still hate her even now

i ship klema brotp

i just want ema skye and klavier gavin to be 

  • buddies
  • friends
  • bros
  • gals
  • homies
  • amigos
  • nintendo
  • pizza
  • complaining abt each other
  • talking about boyfriends
  • light hearted teasing each other
  • unoffensive burnfests
  • yo mama
  • listening to music in the office with speakers up all the way
  • confidants
  • the person b that complains about winston and gaspen paine to the other’s person a that throws snackoos at the paynes when they aren’t looking
  • buddy convincing the other buddy to coordinate with her boyfriend for a social event
  • “lets get drunk because our boyfriends are going back to their country for the time being and they have jobs and we have jobs”
  • practical jokes
  • practical jokes on miles edgeworth on the entire prosecutor’s office 
  • house keys
  • water your plants while you’re on tour/investigating cases in khura’in?
  • i just 

i just



It honestly bugs me that the fandom that shall not be named is complaining so much about Season 5 just because “Olicity” aren’t together, and yet Oliver/Felicity continue to share so many scenes together in their individual storylines. Laurel and Oliver fans were happy just to have them on screen together, and yet we were the ones who had to lose our favourite character? And again. This push to have “OTA” be the core of the show… they’re finally the only three that ever get mentioned, they’re finally at the center of the focus, and every description that comes out mentions only those three, and these “OTA” and “Olicity” fans are still complaining that the writers are ignoring them? It just continues to remind me that these writers invested in the wrong fandom — the fandom that will never be happy no matter what is given to them, and the fandom that drags the show even when they are getting what they asked for after five god damn seasons. Meanwhile, whether we complained about Olicity or not, we could tolerate it with Laurel Lance as Black Canary. We could deal with Lauriver being friends and only friends. We could have stuck with the show for the length of the series had they just kept Laurel there. But now the show is stuck with viewers who will be given everything they’ve ever wanted, and still go, “but we still want this to happen and it’s not good enough until it does.” It’s just been eating at me at lately how the LL fandom endured Season 4 and were still content up until they killed her off. We sat through Felicity getting twenty-minutes of screentime an episode, Donna Smoak being in every other episode, Oliver and Felicity being in a relationship for fifteen episodes, Laurel not getting a storyline after bringing Sara back, and we would have gladly powered through under this treatment because Laurel was still alive, and yet Olicity fans think Season 5 is treating their couple and their fandom poorly because they’re not back together? It pisses me off. 

Just friends~Jungkook Part 1

Yahhh PART ONE! omg I don’t know how to feel about this :’) 

prologue, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7


-1k words

~Something is wrong with your best friend and you don’t understand what.~

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

(gif is not mine credit to owner) 

After a week of not hearing from Jungkook he dropped off at home.

I was in bed, contemplating life and death.
When I heard keys in the door lock, I knew it was him right away. He was the only one that had keys to my flat. What was he doing here? I hadn’t seen him in 3 weeks.
I got out of bed and got to the living room where he was waiting for me with his adorable smile. I came up to him and asked bluntly:

“Where have you been?”

“Oh my god you sound like my mum.”

“I haven’t seen you for a long time, I was starting to forget what you looked like, not that that is a bad thing.” I said with a smirk.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t miss this work of art.” he answered while pointing at himself.

I laughed at his quirkiness, and was happy that he seemed in good enough shape to make jokes.

“So are we ever going to eat this pizza or are you going to stand there for ever.”

“I forgot how bossy you were.”

“Shut up.”

We both sat down on the couch and started to eat the pizza. While spending time with my best friend I realised how much you had missed his sense of humour and his goofy self. We were watching a movie and kept making silly comments about how bad the acting was. From time to time I took a glance at him just to admire his pretty face, and hoped that he wouldn’t catch me staring.
It was good times.

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Ad Hominem

The sight of so much pure white for the first time in three-fourths of a century is enough to give him pause, an involuntary impulse flipping the trigger deep with in his memory unit. Memories flood him unbidden, memories of unholy crucifixion at the hands of a humanoid machine, of the Tower that rose from the earth, a burning flare of mental anguish that ate away at him every step he took closer to the death he so craved, memories of a castle in the sky, its white walls hiding secrets that damned them all, memories of a sword, gleaming, brilliant white, jammed to the hilt in his chest as he couldn’t even let out a scream of pain, just a strained gurgle.

It’s near unnoticeable, but…

He tremors. His bare hands shake over the neatly folded clothing, his pulse rate climbing with each beat of his artificial heart, which was less romantic of a notion as a “heart” and more of a glorified pump system.

Calm down…He shakes his head and grasps his right wrist with his left hand, holding it steady. It’s okay.

Taking a long swallow, he manages to finally touch the garments, ghosting his fingers over the Resistance handy work.

They truly had done so much for him, first by allowing himself and 2B to remain with them even after revealing that YoRHa and what little they had to fight for was all a fabrication to keep them placated, and then by doing this…

They owed the Resistance their lives. Truly, without them, they would have long perished alone in the grand scheme of things.

His fingers massaged the embroidery of the garment as he carefully dressed. They had managed to capture it down to the slightest detail, even down to the slight curvature in the stitching. He expected no less from an android, but he mostly reserved this kind of skill for practical purposes, such as repairing a tent or patching the frayed fabric of someone’s work pants. According to the records, humans wore these kinds of garments only once and wearing them now, he could see why.

He hadn’t worn his YoRHa uniform for quite some time, the very thought sending him into a panic he couldn’t calm despite the soothing words from 2B or his Pod. Sometimes, he would simply bore his eyes into the crumbling concrete walls of their room, lost in memories of anguish and anger.

But this uniform was different. Instead of the stoic black of the YoRHa, he was clad head to toe in the soft, creamy white of marriage. He flexed his fingers, testing the new leather of the gloves. They fit well, almost as well as he remembers his own, which are buried in the deepest part of a box he keeps underneath his bed.

He’s not shaking anymore, he notices as he ties the blindfold over his eyes. He’s forgotten how it used to feel, having abandoned that practice with her years ago, but the symbolism of this moment doesn’t belong to them; it belongs to cultures long since dead and forgotten, relics of the past they deemed worth reviving. At the very least, they wanted something that was uniquely theirs and theirs alone.


She studies the flowers and knows that the voice of a chipper and chatty Operator will soon follow as it is dragged, kicking and screaming, from her memories.

It’s painful, to think about 6O and YoRHa even so long into the past they were. Despite her programming, she still has moments where she believed that 6O was calling her for another one-sided chat, only to remember her death in graphic detail.

The stems of the flowers have been bound together with repurposed cables, the blossoms carefully arranged in the bouquet of hydrangeas, lilies and other flowers scavenged from the hillsides. The voluminous flowers weren’t her idea or to her taste, but 9S had liked them. As a compromise between them saw the inclusion of scattered Lunar Tears, a gift from the rolling shop himself.

He also supplied the veil that currently rests atop her head, a light fabric she didn’t know the name of flowing past her shoulders and down her back. She wasn’t sure why she needed to cover her face — the meaning of this tradition was lost on her — but Emil seemed to have a well of old world knowledge he could dig into despite the fractures in his memories.

She stood, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Old yet new collided to create a dress that made a strange amalgamation of sadness, fury and joy rise in her. Following the pattern of YoRHa standard dresses, this fit well against her body, feeling as natural to wear as a second skin. However, unlike the YoRHa issued clothing, these were white with soft gold embroidery; clearly, these were not made for war, but as the universal sign for surrender, for peace.

In her fingers, she clutched her visor, this too white and gold. It was non-functional, more for aesthetics and private symbolism than anything. This was the last piece holding them back and once this was done, they would leave YoRHa behind and begin again.

The thought of the future, a future with Nines, spurred her to action. She gently brushed the veil to the side and tied the blindfold over her eyes.


He was blind to their presence, but he knew exactly who they were just based off of the sounds they made. The Resistance took up much of the space with their mismatched voices rising above each other as they spoke, filling the empty space with their chatter. He picks out the excited tone of 4S, his fellow Scanner. He’s recording the entire process to study later on, focusing on each new experience for about a second before whipping around to record something else. But one voice in particular stood out, her voice clearly hesitant and unsure if she should even be here due to her history with the pair.

A2…so she had decided to accept the invitation after all… He was both happy and a bit nervous that she had decided to come. They’ve tried to mend the best they could, but even now, a part of him still hates her, still wants to hunt her down.

9S shifts from foot to foot out of nervous habit, anxiety building in him for an unknown reason and his Pod notices right away.

“Pulse rate palpitations detected in unit 9S,” it never really did lose that unsettling monotone, never quite finding the emotional range that the androids possessed. “Perhaps you should breathe.”

His laugh comes out shaky and quiet, tinkling like shards of broken glass in a dryer. He doesn’t know why the sudden outburst happens, but it does in high-stress moments like this and he can’t stop it. He’s glad that they’re too busy talking to hear or notice his brief moment of madness because he doesn’t want to explain the unexplainable processes in his addled brain.

“I’ll remember that,” he says quietly to his Pod, wishing that he could actually seeher instead of a dark silhouette against the white of the blindfold. But he doesn’t want to look yet, lest he catch a glimpse of 2B before the proper time.

They’ve been separated for more than makes him comfortable and it’s eating at him. In the normal span of a day, he’s never more than shouting distance away from her, most times closely clutching her hand in his.

Maybe he’s clingy. Maybe they both are.

The voices fall silent one by one, a sort of reverent and hushed awe hanging in the air where noise once was. He turns his head before remembering that he can’t see what they do, but now he can hear her footsteps against the concrete.

The urge to look is strong. He wants to see her, to feel what they feel and he wonders if she has the same thoughts about seeing him.

She’s unsure in her steps but follows the path led by her Pod. Sometimes, she sways to the right but a simple correction given by her support and she is centered again.

He’s waiting for her just thirty steps ahead, standing off to the left, probably in the same anxious throes as herself. They’re blind, the moment when they meet will be the first time they see each other and cast away the blindfolds forever. It’s a form of symbolic closure, something only they will understand and therefore the perfect inclusion to this ceremony.

Perhaps it’s only a symbol and they never will escape these memoirs of their past. Perhaps closure is something they don’t deserve. Perhaps they don’t deserve love or happiness or each other.

But…she’s reached him now and stands across from him, her hands tightening around the flowers. Carefully, she reaches up with one hand and mimics the gesture of his silhouette, removing the fabric from around her eyes.

They deserve this, and in that moment when their eyes finally meet, they deserve each other.


It’s a celebratory occasion, and A2 has never been much for celebration. It unnerves her, sets her teeth on edge.

She’s not even sure she should be here, basking in their happiness, their joy, because she knows she’s always holding them back. She’s that dark spot on their white clothing, a stain too stubborn to be scrubbed away. She’s the personification of their nightmares, the ones she knows they have, the ones where she is the murderer of his only reason for living. 2B and herself have already come to terms with the fact that 9S will never fully accept her existence, so when she received the invitation she was wondering if it was a mistake or a shill.

Still, she had dragged herself here, reconsidering it halfway through her journey.

The white-clad pair seemed frozen in place as they finally got to look at each other, eyes roaming over their partner. The lovestruck idiots…if they ever thought they were being discreet, they seriously had some problems.

Her Pod takes the flowers from her, floating with the bouquet obscuring much of the light grey rectangle.

A2 is lost in the whole process, this ceremony having been dragged out of obscurity and altered slightly to more fit an android couple. Certain things changed.

They didn’t need to eat so why would they create a…“cake” was it? Most of these old partnering ceremonies included worship to some sort of God, a thing they didn’t believe in. Anemone tried her best to fill in the blanks but they all knew that something was missing from this moment. It felt incomplete and thus something they, the androids, couldn’t fully adopt.

Perhaps in a few years, as this practice became more common among the lovebirds, they would discover what was missing.

The strange thing was, 9S and 2B didn’t seem to care. Perhaps that what was missing. A2 couldn’t understand the point of this process, but for some reason it mattered so much to them. And, she guessed, maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter if she or anyone in the Resistance understood. At the end, it was about them and what stupid shit they wanted.

Huh, maybe that was the point.

9S trembled as he took 2B’s hands, slowly interlocking their fingers together. They promised each other eternity, something as androids they could easily give to each other (but she chose to not point that out), promised each other faith and honesty. It was the sentimental bullcrap that she had to put up with when she was quasi-traveling with them, but she never commented on it outside of sitting on the outskirts of camp whenever they were being, ehem, overly affectionate. She supposed they deserved it; however, and it never really bothered her outside of leaving a strong feeling of pain in her chest.

The more she watched them, the more that idea was cemented: the idea that they deserved some peace and to be these lovestruck fools who didn’t have to murder each other for the sake of a false mission with no goal other than morale. For the greater good, their torment mattering nothing to their creators. They all deserved a moment to be obnoxious with their happiness.

Applause startled her out of her thoughts and, hurriedly, she brought her hands together, hoping no one noticed her late start.


Anemone was perhaps the only person she felt comfortable around, considering their history together and the cool-headed demeanor of the Resistance leader. “I don’t really get this whole celebration.“ A2 muttered to the darker-skinned android as they leaned against the wall.

“They don’t either,” Anemone chuckled softly as her eyes trailed over to the white pair as they swayed awkwardly to soft music Emil played over his speaker. When A2 had approached him, he seemed excited about the whole thing (of course his face didn’t show it but his voice dripped with energy) and zoomed off to…somewhere before she could prod further.

A2 raised an eyebrow, following her gaze. “So what’s the point?” 9S seemed to be muttering something into 2B’s ear, which left her face unreadable as she nodded stiffly. “I know we don’t have to live by structure anymore but…”

Anemone ran her nails down the back of her opposite arm. She was lost in her processes, mulling over her words carefully before parting her lips and saying softly, “it may well be the last time these two experience anything.” When A2 visibly recoiled, Anemone continued, “I forgot you’ve been disconnected from the Resistance server for a while. But…they offered to be the test subjects for the Gestalt process.”

A2 bit the inside of her cheek at the mere mention of the selfsame project that single-handedly ended the human race. “…you guys are really trying that, huh?” She shook her head. “I can’t say I can see it working.”

Anemone’s voice was laced with passion. “There’s been success in smaller, less complex subjects. We’ve exhausted those trials and it’s only natural that we advance to the next step.” She applauded with the group as the song came to an end, 9S and 2B unfurling from their tight embrace. “They’ve decided they would help us take that step, but they wanted to take it together.”

“And you’re just gonna let them?

“I can tell you; I tried to convince them otherwise. Nothing I could say could sway them.”

The two were joined on the floor by others who wanted to join in the “dancing” or whatever they wanted to call it. “So…what’s going to happen to them?”

Anemone sighed, running a hand through her bangs. “In all honesty, I have no idea. We’re tampering with a Black Box. We’ve had success with deactivated models, but…” She trailed off. Clearly, she was just as hesitant as A2 but more set in her conviction. “We have to try.”

“Last time I checked, there’s no more ‘have to.’” A2 crossed her arms and shifted on her feet.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“It’s a stupid choice.”

Anemone smiled. “But we have the freedom to make those stupid choices, don’t we?”


He lay to her right, running his thumb over her hand as he studied the sensation one last time. Muscle fibers and circuitry rested underneath the surface of soft artificial skin, her carbonate skeleton dense and reinforced yet flexible. Yet it felt absolutely natural to him.

Would…would that change in a human body? Would it no longer feel the same? Would he never be comforted by her touch, but rather disgusted by the sensation so alien? Doubt swirled in his mind, leaving him with a pit deep in his heart.

Fear. It was crawling it’s way up again, threatening to derail everything they had worked for and promised each other. Their eternity was in this moment and…he was so unsure if life would be awaiting him at the end…

Her voice was low in volume, soft in pitch and gentle in tone, but she was demanding he look at her.

“Nines.” He slowly lifts his head to meet her eyes. She takes his other hand, trailing her fingers along.

Her voice is…minuscule when she says, “I’m scared too.”

In that moment, he knows he’s been selfish. He’s been so trapped in his own fear, his own reservations, his own thoughts that he hasn’t even considered hers.

It’s always been like that: she doesn’t voice her suffering so he simply doesn’t think it exists. Even when they were caught in the dance of life, death and duty, he never once thought of her and her needs because she was 2B and she didn’t need anything.

But she’s just as broken and naked as he is, pieces of herself cut off and tossed into the void. She can never be whole, never be without the fear of waking up with him not by her side, never be safe without a weapon nearby, never be herself again because there never was a “self” to tear out. They had to create those on their own, formulating love and purpose where there should be none after the losses they incurred.

And yet, here she was, holding his hands and preparing for the unknown with him.

He grasped her hands a little tighter, so afraid of letting go. “I…I love you.”

She smiled softly, and, with great reluctance, pulled their hands apart. “I love you too, Nines.”

“Are you ready?” Jackass asked, her eyes on the Black Boxes, dense cubes of compressed matter and energy and the closest thing to an android heart.

The two nodded and felt the wave of a forced shutdown overtake them. Before he fell asleep, 9S could hear Jackass mutter to herself a reaffirmation: “it’s for science. It’s what they want.”

So it seemed they weren’t the only ones with hesi—

[Unit 9S Black Box signal offline.]

[Unit 2B Black Box signal offline.]

[Death confirmed]

can i just say how much the revival has made me grateful for season 7. like, asp was going to have rory get pregnant at 22, which would have honestly been the most heartbreaking ending i could think of for rory- a major part of her characterization is that she didn’t want to end up like lorelai, yes she loves lorelai, yes she respects lorelai and appreciated all the sacrifices lorelai made for her, but she didn’t want the life lorelai had. lorelai is exactly where she’s supposed to be- in stars hollow, with the inn, with luke- but rory wanted more. rory wanted to be christiane amanpour, she wanted to travel, see the world, do things, which was a major part of her turning down logan’s proposal because she wanted a ‘wide open future’. how the hell would she have gotten that with a baby? that’s the  worst thing- like, you will become your parents whether you like it or not. and logan, too- he becomes mitchum, lives out his huntzberger preordained life, the life he desperately didn’t want, without even being told he has a child. at least in the revival rory is 32, she’s done stuff, she’s lived, but geez, that’s still a crappy ending for the girl who wanted to be christiane amanpour.

I can’t say this hard enough because I am so angry







While Completely Accepting how Unlikely this Scenario is

What if Chloe’s still alive at the end of episode five? What if it’s Rachel’s funeral? Chloe gets shot in the bathroom and is still in the hospital recovering after intensive surgery which is why she can’t attend Rachel’s funeral, which is why her parents go in her stead. Why Max goes in her stead.

And Max is all torn up because after all that, Chloe is still alive. Hates her even more now for being in the bathroom and not doing anything to stop the bullet. Rachel’s still dead, but Jefferson got arrested and the tornado isn’t going to happen. She’s torn up most of all, because after that week in hell she didn’t know that things would’ve worked themselves out if she had left well enough alone. Chloe might hate her now, but at least she’s ALIVE so there’s time to repair the damage between them. There’s still time to fix things.

Warren goes for Max. Kate goes for Max, but also in solidarity to the girl who didn’t survive Jefferson’s encounter. Victoria goes out of a grudging, maybe guilty, respect.

The funeral is over and Max is standing on the cliff alone. Everything worked out. There’s all the time in the world to fix things, so she doesn’t need to manipulate it. Looking at the sunset, it can almost be like yesterday didn’t happen. The whole past week never happened, and Max can put it in her past. She can move forward.

Most of all? Looking into an Arcadia Bay, basking in the golden hour, that isn’t shadowed by hell and a hurricane? Max thinks that Life is Strange.


Elesh Norn Sprite!

antognized  asked:

(right now i just need to talk about this to someone who loves Harley/Ivy, i mean no ill will, its just no one else seems to talk about it) one thing that i see forgotten a lot is that Ivy was confirmed as being in love with Harley since near the end of the Gotham City Sirens run. its brought up in a cruel way, but Harley questions Ivy's reason for staying with her; asking "Is it because you love me?" and Ivy actually reacts to it. granted, Harley punches Ivy a second later, but still. thoughts?

This is true, Ivy is confirmed as loving Harley and well it sort of just goes down hill from there. In the last issues of the Gotham City Sirens run (which is being reprinted for anyone who wants it) Harley confronts Ivy about her feelings because in essence she was tired of being used by people. She stood up to Joker, so she stood up to the other person that had showed her love through the years and really the only other person that had every done that was Ivy, and maybe Selina.

Honestly the only thing that I can figure is that Harley was overwhelmed, afraid, or just down right pissed. She obviously suffered from a version of Stockholm syndrome and she was harshly abused over the years by someone she really truly believed loved her. So when she asks Ivy if she loves her she gets angry about the reaction that Ivy has. Because she doesn’t really admit it, just sort of looks down and tries to ignore the subject.

Now rightfully so I think Harley gets angry because more than likely she has been taught to read body language while she studied to be a psychiatrist. So she knows damn well that Ivy is trying to avoid the topic while at the same time confirming that she loves her. But Harl just got out of literally the most toxic relationship of her life and doesn’t want to start another one. So she gets scared, punches Ivy in the face and runs.

Then Ivy says that she hates Harley, that she should give up her humanity because it has never done her any good and that she wouldn’t be able to feel and that would be better. Even though Ivy now “hates Harley” she still helps her break out of prison and build a life for herself. Both of these women were very badly abused and have very obvious trust issues when it comes to relationships.

So to conclude this rather long little thing I am sure no one actually wanted on their dash this early. Harley does react violently to Ivy’s sort of confession because I firmly believe that she didn’t want Ivy to be in love with her. She didn’t want for all of t his to start over again. She knows very well that she falls for people too easily, she knows that she trusts too easily, and she knows that Ivy is dangerous and very volatile. Harley then does what she thinks is the best thing and punches Ivy in the face because she knows that it will make her hate her. Thus ending the cycle of the two’s dance between abusive relationships. I don’t think Harley was trying to be cruel, I think she was trying to save herself and Ivy by doing what she knew would make her lose her best friend. All because she was afraid to actually be loved.


favorite trait: devotion to her friends

Twelve Breads to Woo Them, Part 3

by @alliswell21

Day 3: Star

Rated T for some cuss words… that Peeta can’t hold them back when he gets annoyed.

Pairing: Everlark of course.

In Panem AU, where Everlark discover Yuletide.

Unbetaed. My very bad… Mistakes are exclusively mine.


“Ouch! Easy there, you butcher,” Peeta chuckles painfully while I dab ointment on the angry red welt on his back, just an inch shy of his spine. luckily, thats the worse one. 

“Hush! You’re breaking my concentration.” I chide and pretend to scowl at him when he turns his face just enough to smirk at me. I can’t hold back the smile that breaks free once his head turns facing forward. 

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