sits here laughing

The power keeps going out and I’m sitting here laughing and watching my neighbors networks go down and come back up.

Too many people think UPS is just a postal service.

you may think you’re dramatic, but you will never be more dramatic than my boyfriend who just drove the 10 minutes from his place to mine while we were having an argument just to come in, get the tote of winter clothes out from under my bed, grab my earmuffs out of it, and put them on so i could see him not listening to me, then immediately leave after he felt his point was made



Is Wyoming Gay Or Europen? (From Legally Blonde The Musical )

anonymous asked:

I keep seeing all the antis asking why tumblr is suggesting karamel blogs to them and I'm just sitting here laughing, thinking "It's because you talk about it so much!!! Of course tumblr thinks you're obsessed with it and would want to follow other blogs talking about karamel." 😂😂

 I have nothing else to add to this  👏 👏 👏 👏 👏

Apparently they uploaded another trailer (incl. Izzy, Luke and THIS KISS!!!) but then they deleted it??? I am just sitting here… laughing. This promotion team…. istg. 🙈



Also, can we please all whine again because of the lighting? Just when I thought it might look a bit better when watching the teaser. 

Bates Motel series finale: Kerry Ehrin pens farewell to the show

And so goodbye…

There’s a beautiful monologue at the end of The Glass Menagerie where Tom, a young man with a crippled sister and an abusive mother, has left home because his mother is unwilling to change and he cannot help his sister in that environment. So he leaves and tries to live his life: He travels all over trying to forget his sister, trying to put her out of his mind…

“Laura, Laura, I tried so hard to leave you behind me but I am more faithful than I intended to be. I reach for a cigarette. I cross a street. I run to the movies or to a bar. I buy a drink. I speak to the nearest stranger. Anything that will blow your candles out. For nowadays the world is lit by lightning. Blow out your candles, Laura. And so goodbye.”

This is basically how I feel about Bates Motel. About the fictional inhabitants of White Pine Bay. About my Norma and Norman. I have no idea how I will escape them living in my head and in my heart. They are going to haunt me.

As the finale circles back to the pilot, I find myself circling back to the beginning of this whole journey. I remember walking to Carlton Cuse’s office on the Disney lot, wondering what in the hell I was doing working on a show about killing people. But I was excited to work with Carlton, of whom I had heard such good things, and it was a challenging opportunity but wholly new territory for me. I was scared. And I remember thinking about Norma and Norman and trying to get inside them as I walked up to that first day of work. I had some version of their hearts beating in me, even though I knew nothing about them yet. But I felt the presence of them, and there they were, already looking after me.

Writers are crazy.

Carlton and I went to work, and I soon found we were both on the same page, wanting to tell a real story of a real mother and son who loved each other but couldn’t overcome their own past and issues, valiantly though they would try. A love story told with humor and heart and heartache. (And may I take this moment to thank Carlton Cuse, my partner and dear friend, for everything he has given and that I have learned from him. Carlton, I loved creating this world with you.) Being with Norma and Norman on that journey, I fell in love with them. I spent the next six years with them. Like, full time, intimately, spent it with them. I know them as well as I know any real people in my life, and much better than some. I know what they would do or feel in any situation. I know them like the back of my hand. How do you say goodbye to people you know like the back of your hand?

Looking back, Norma was the most exciting character I have ever had a hand in bringing to life, made even more exciting by Vera Farmiga’s mind-blowing performance. Norma was a kind of every woman. She wanted love. She wanted to have value. She wanted to be left alone by men who didn’t treat her with the respect she deserved. She never wanted to lose her son who was this miracle human — and miraculously, a man — who loved her unconditionally. Who needed her as much as she needed him, who would never leave her. That need to not be abandoned was her weakness but also part of her vulnerable beauty and her ability to be so present with him. She appreciated him. She appreciated the love they shared because she had not experienced a lot of love in her life.

Norma was damaged, but she never wallowed in it. She rarely felt sorry for herself. She always put one foot in front of the other and kept going. She kicked ass when she had to. She kept trying to find happiness, find peace, take care of her son. Have value in a world that did not value her. And she did find it. And although it was cut short by her death, she did get to find her heart’s desire in her lifetime, which is something you cannot say for everyone, even some people who live to be 90.

I realize now that Norma was a conduit wherein I could quietly express my own insecurities and chart my own growth; as a writer and a showrunner, but mostly as a human being. So much of what I was experiencing taking on a job I had never done before wound up subconsciously threading itself into Norma’s story: a woman who didn’t know what she was doing taking on a new life, finding out it wasn’t what she expected, taking it by the balls regardless and giving it her all, come hell or high water. When Norma died, it felt like the Phoenix: like my old self was gone and a new, stronger and more confident self had emerged.

Like I said, writers are crazy.

Norman, also, has been one of the loves of my life and a joy to help create. Crazy Norman with his loving heart and his fragile brain. Never was there so much joy in any psycho, homicidal maniac. The happiness and true contentment he felt in his mother’s love always just melted me like a pat of butter on a hot pancake. Writing the scenes where he and Norma were in co-dependent bliss was true happiness for me. (I think the longing I have for connection, forged at an early age, will never be completely quelled. Being able to live inside Norma and Norman, when they were together and happy. was always a beautiful dream.)

I also loved Norman’s idiosyncrasies. His “oopsy daisy’s” and his “well I reckons.” (Freddie reveled in those and contributed most of them.) I loved Norman when his eyes were big like a puppy and his pupils would get all dilated, and I loved Norman when he was pissy and strident and really thought he had put someone in their place (but really hadn’t actually done it so very well: “The great thing about taxidermy is it goes with everything”). I loved Norman when he was happy and affectionate, and I loved Norman when he was lost and sad and I wanted to save him.

I always wanted to save him. And Norma. I always wanted to save them.

I loved Dylan with his wounded heart and his clarity and his selflessness. His beautiful love for his family that never really totally gave him back the love he deserved. He strove to see the truth in the dark. Even though it hurt him. Even though it knocked him down. He kept getting up. He kept going forward. He is a hero of truth in my opinion. And he is the success story of Bates because he dared to look at the truth, full on in the face. And that’s why he survived along with Emma — Emma the old soul, the truth-seeker, the beating and true heart under all the madness of the world she was in. Emma, the last person who should have outlived everyone else. And yet she did.

Getting to spend these years with Alex Romero was another joy. Watching him go from completely guarded tough guy to the most vulnerable open heart in the universe was an amazing experience. Being able to write a scene with him and Norma was always so exciting and fun because they always pressed all of each other’s buttons. Their hearts were trying, very, very carefully, to get out in the sun. And they finally did, for a short time.

It’s hard to say goodbye. But goodbye must be said to all the inhabitants of crazy White Pine Bay! The broken and heartbreaking Caleb who could never escape himself. The one man Comedia del Arte that is Chick Hogan. The sacrificial lamb, Bradley Martin. The enigmatic Miss Watson. The totally f—ed up Shelby. The hilariously evil Abernathy. The tragically fabulous Bob Paris. The only woman who could fill the Sheriff shoes left by Romero, Jane Greene.

I hear the clock ticking. Time is moving forward. Things have their time on this earth.

Time to wrap this up. And yet I can’t. I feel like Norman and Norma are sitting here with me, laughing as I try to. At the illusion that I can.

“Blow out your candles, Laura…”

Thank you for going on this ride with me. For being by my side. For never leaving me alone. There’s a bonfire burning in my heart and always will be.

Good luck blowing that f—er out, my friends.

And so, goodbye.

“The last time I was at my house”

“Side by side”

“Love how Tucker Gates framed this amazing shot. Damn I’m going to miss working with these old cars. The actors aren’t bad either.”

“On the set acting out Dylan’s blocking. Vera says I should get this Photoshopped so it looks like a portrait of me on the wall — haha.”

“Chilling in the living room with Freddie and J Paul, our on-set costumer and a lovely human being. Freddie’s okay too.”

“Backstage as Donna fixes dead Norma’s hair”

“Goodbye little kitchen”

“From Norma’s kitchen. A wish for you all.”

“Last day in the house”

“No comment. Just tears.”

“The last night the set existed before it disappeared like Brigadoon into the mist”

“The universe is a Fata Morgana. Life is a dream.”

“Watching this on the monitor and crying while Max kills it in all respects.”

“Tucker Gates, I will miss breathing down your neck at the monitor, haha. Thank you for your artistry, my friend.”

“My angels”

“What to do in between killing your brother and playing dead at the dining table.”

“An amazing day in the woods”

“Me and the Psycho”

“There’s a time for departure even when there’s no certain place to go.” —Tennessee Williams

Co Workers (Part Twenty-Five)

A/N: Oh my gosh you guys. This was so emotional for me to write. I know that it’s super short, but I think you guys will like it. I can’t believe it’s over! This was my first ever series and I never imagined it going on for 25 parts. You all are the best, and I think you’ll enjoy the next series I have planned as well.

Pairing: Misha x Reader

Warnings: None, unless fluff makes you emotional

Word Count: 714


(tags are below the cut)

Originally posted by sanguepopular

One year ago, you were getting ready to move to LA. You had plans of acting in a few commercials, and settling down with your high school sweetheart. Never ever in a million years did you think that you would be sitting here at this table, laughing and drinking with the cast of your favorite tv show. You never thought you’d get to meet them, let alone be married to one of them.

And never in a million years did you think that a small roll in a laundry detergent commercial would bring you here.

Eight months later

“Misha! Babe, come here!” you screamed from the bathroom as you sat on the edge of the tub.

“What’s wrong?!” He shouted as he rushed in, panicked.

You stood up and held up the pregnancy test you just took that displayed two very bright pink lines in the small window.

“Is-is that positive?” he asked you.

You brought your hand up to cover your mouth and nodded as tears welled up in your eyes. Eight months. You’d been trying for eight long months after you were in the clear from your doctor. The pain from the pregnancy loss made each negative pregnancy test that much more painful. But this, this positive was what you’d been waiting for.

Misha had the biggest and brightest grin on his face you’d seen in a long time as he rushed forward and brought you in for one of the tightest hugs, and one of the most affectionate kisses he’d ever given you.


The smell of coffee and bacon woke you up from your deep sleep and you rolled over, lying there for a minute as your eyes adjusted to the sunlit bedroom. You climbed out of bed and made your way into the kitchen, watching in the doorway for a minute as Misha flipped pancakes onto a plate for your daughter Annie. You smiled as she giggled, begging her daddy to do it again.

It was an early Monday morning, and today was her first day of preschool. Your presence in the doorway would have went unnoticed, but you groaned as the little boy in your belly pushed his bottom up as far as he could into your rib cage. Your husband and daughter both looked up at you.

“You kay momma?” Annie asked you

You straightened your uncomfortable face as best you could and nodded- “I’m fine baby, your brother’s just runnin out of room.”

You went to the table and sat down next to your daughter and helped her cut up her pancakes as Misha served you a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon before coming around and giving you a kiss.

“Okay Annie, so grammy’s gonna pick you up after school alright?” you reminded her. You and Misha would be headed to the hospital this afternoon to be induced.

“Kay momma, then I’m gonna come see bubby?” she looked up at you with hopeful eyes, she was over the moon excited to be a big sister.

“Well...ow!-” you were cut off by the sharp pain of a contraction. You looked over at Misha, giving him a look that said it was time to go. You called your mom as Misha finished getting Annie ready for her first day.

The minute your mom arrived, you and Misha were out the door. You’d felt terrible about not being able to bring Annie to her first day of school, she’d been so excited about it. Not to mention how much worse the pregnancy hormones were making you feel.

Hours later, you laid sleepily in the hospital bed as you watched Misha hold his newborn son, Dylan. After a much needed nap you allowed your mother and Annie to come up to the hospital. Annie squealed with excitement when you let her hold her baby brother for the first time.

It was the perfect picture. Your daughter sitting in your lap while you helped her hold your newborn, and Misha there, sitting on the side of the hospital bed, smiling at the three of you. This may not have been the life you imagined when you and Misha started dating all those years ago, but it was definitely the life you wouldn’t trade for anything.

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Co Workers (Part Twenty-Four)

A/N: Ok so I’ll be saving part 25 for Saturday. Since I have a problem with posting on the weekends for some reason. But you have no reason to worry anymore, it’s all gonna be okay <3

Pairing: Misha x Reader

Warnings: Breif smut, some language (smut related

Word Count: 1.5k


Originally posted by superwhoolockk

The truth was, he didn’t think he things were going to be alright either. There weren’t words he could use to describe the way he felt; and seeing you so broken and torn down added onto his pain.

You wrapped your arms around him the best you could while both of you just laid there, holding each other. Trying to forget.

Things did get easier. For you anyway.

As your body healed and as time passed, you felt that you could let go. The pain was still there, you would always be sad over losing your son. There was no way to describe how it felt.

Your mom and sister had stayed in Vancouver with you for a few weeks to help you out and to keep you company.

Misha had left nearly two weeks ago, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

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anonymous asked:

Harry knowing you aren't a morning person and being extra sweet when waking you up. Although he finds it so adorable when you whine when he tries to wake you up, burying yourself into his chest immediately. He chuckles and indulges you just for a few more minutes, rubbing your back and trailing his fingers through your hair with the occasional kiss to the top of your head. "Sleepy girl... c'mon let me see yeh.."

This is personally offensive to me, because I’m not a morning person. I’m actually sitting here trying not to laugh cause wow, this is painful.

“No,” you mumble while burying your face in the pillow, and by now it’s more of a tantrum for a tantrum’s sake, cause he’s being so damn cheerful about it all – in the softest way, but it’s like he knows that he’s going to get you to wake up, and how annoying is that? And you can feel him chuckling silently to himself cause the bed is shaking a bit and maybe he pulls your hair back from your cheek and neck and he reaches his finger in just underneath your jaw, on the side of your neck, and tickles. 

“C’mon, time to–”

And then he leans back when you thrash a bit because you said no, but he’s laughing, and then he throws his arm around you to kind of wrestle you into submission and he’s leaning his head against yours and his voice is kinda muffled cause his face is squished. “Please, please, please,” he moans through his laughter. “Wake up, pet.”

(Side note, there’s a 50/50 chance this would work on some days and not on others with me. It’s your life and limb to risk.)

Truth or Dare

Castiel x Reader

Word Count: 1440

Warnings: swearing, mention of fears, fluff.

**Slightly predictable, fluffy cuteness. Enjoy.

(Not my GIF)

It was so peaceful without the brothers in the bunker. They left on a djinn hunt a few states over, which you decided to sit out on. It had been almost three months since you were able to think without Sam bothering you about some research he found or Dean asking you to go on a food run.


It was beautiful.

You pulled your mug of tea to your chest and sighed. The television was off, the lights dimmed. You had no urge to watch a movie or read a book. You could do that when the boys were there. Sitting in complete silence was something you could rarely do ever.

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Safe Haven AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: My Safe Haven is not 100% the same as the Nicholas Sparks one. I changed a few things. I took out the dead wife as a friend because that just kinda didn’t make sense to me in this. Just a heads up.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Steve had taught you to help paddle the canoe, and soon you were on your way. Gliding across the water, under the warm sun and pretty scenery of the water and woods around you. Steve smirks at you, as you continue to struggle with the paddling, he was mainly keeping the boat on track, you felt nervous, yet somehow comfortable with him, even though this was clearly a date.

“It’s so beautiful here.” You smile looking around.

“This is my favorite place to be.” Steve smiles at you as the two of you rest your paddles in your laps, the boat slowing down.

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