stuff that makes me giggle

u know all i can think of is when the hobbit movies were first coming out and I saw them in theaters and as soon as Thorin Oakenshield walked into Bilbo Baggin’s fucking hobbit hole I was trash for that ship

trevor-philips-incorp  asked:

Trevors lil notepad kills me 😂📝

IT KILLS ME TOO! I especially love when he is writing stuff down outside of Michael’s house. It makes me giggle at the thought of what he could POSSIBLY be writing about.

You knew it was gonna happen. As soon as we got the shot of Lexa waking up from a nightmare, I just couldn’t resist…. @killthegiant feel free to make it worse

It’s the middle of the night when Lexa opens her eyes, and she immediately realizes that there is something wrong. It’s nowhere near dawn yet, it should be all dark and quiet, instead there is a glowing light coming from her window, and muffled sounds she can’t identify. She gets up from the bed and slowly makes her way to her window. When she looks outside, her mouth falls open. Polis is burning. The light she saw when she woke up is the fire flaring everywhere, the sounds she heard are the screams of her people being slaughtered in the streets. She is frozen with shock and dread, watching the city and the people she vowed to protect dying before her eyes, when suddenly she hears something else, something much more terrifying than a scream. A chant, repeated over and over again.

“Nou Heda noumou.” Commander no longer… 

Dread in her heart, she cautiously walks away from her window, opens the door and exits her room. Her two guards are there as usual. Except that there is nothing usual about it. Nothing normal in the way their empty vitreous eyes stare up at her from the ground, dead. Lexa walks past them and slowly moves down the hallway. The chanting resonates in her ears, louder and louder as she approaches the throne room. Then she arrives in front of the closed doors, and before realizing what she’s doing she walks inside. The sight is nothing short of horrifying. The Nightbloods–her Nightbloods–are there. Their tiny bodies sagged on the floor, their blood spilling everywhere on the cold marble. Aden’s blonde hair now black with the blood from a head injury Lexa can’t see. Her eyes fill with tears as she walks among the bodies of the dead children she watched grow up, the children she took care of and learned to love. Innocent…. She’s in the middle of the room when she finally looks up. Titus lies bleeding and cold at the bottom of the stairs that lead to her throne, his face still contorted in an expression of pain. Whether physical or emotional-for failing to protect the children–Lexa doesn’t know. And then Lexa sees her. Sitting on Heda’s throne, on her throne. Ontari. The Natblida from the Ice Nation. Covered in the blood of her novitiates, smiling proudly, a hand caressing the wooden armrest of the throne, as if it was her right to sit there. All around her stand the twelve Ambassadors, relentless in their chanting. ”Nou Heda noumou.

Lexa wants to kill all of them, wants to rip them apart with her bare hands, but she can’t move. Her muscles don’t work, she is frozen there on spot. Then Ontari’s smile widens and she just says “For you…”

Lexa’s legs move on their own accord, she has no power over them, and they make her turn around. And when she sees her, Lexa’s heart stops in her chest. Clarke. Kneeling in front of her, held down by an Azgeda warrior. Lexa wants to run to her, wants to free her and take her away from this horror, but she can’t move once again. She can’t even beg for Clarke’s life, her voice is gone. Her petrified body is shaken by tremors when she sees another warrior drawing his sword and resting the blade on Clarke’s neck. Ontari’s words reach her ears and hurt more than a death by a thousand cuts.

“This time you get to watch…”

Anguish and despair gnaw at her as the warrior lifts his sword. Lexa wants to move, to shield Clarke, but she can’t. She wants to scream, to tell them to take her head and not Clarke’s, but she can’t. She wants to cry and tell Clarke how much she loves her, but she can’t. She desperately keeps trying to fight the invisible force holding her still, when suddenly Clarke looks up at her. She stares at her with a look of utter betrayal in her misty eyes and then, with a broken voice, she shatters Lexa’s heart forever.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

Lexa’s face twists with a silent scream as the sword cuts Clarke’s down.

And that’s when Lexa finally wakes up, her heart in her throat. A concerned Clarke looking at her, asking her what’s wrong. Alive. Yes… it was only a nightmare.

Because I Like You: A Chris Evans x Reader One-Shot

They didn’t often happen. If you were being honest, they were almost a treat. Because while you loved them, he hated them. But whenever Chris would come home from a production shoot or promotion tour, he’d use any excuse to spend time with you. Even agreeing to take a simple, long bubble bath.

And so here you two were, your back pressed against his chest. His head rested against the tile behind the tub. One of his hands held a beer bottle, and the other drew patterns slowly across your arms. You cradled your bottle in your hands, next to your chest. You turned your head, pressing your face into his neck.

He chuckled lightly, “Your hair’s tickling me.”

“Now you know how your beard feels to me.” You smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his jawline. He laughed again, taking a drink out of his bottle.

“You know you like it, babe.”

“I know I do. I just wanted to tell you that it tickled me.” You reached out a hand, pushing around the bubbles. Chris pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

Reaching up and tugging a strand of hair, he murmured, “Why do you like these so much?”

You smiled, looking down into the bubbles. Your voiced dropped its volume, as if you were sharing a secret. “‘Cause they’re close to you.” Chris hummed his approval. You felt him shift slightly, and you listened as his bottle clinked softly onto the ground tile.

“Funny,” he murmured, and you could feel his smile as his mouth moved to your shoulder. “'Cause that’s why I like them too.” You shifted forward before Chris could put his arms around you, slushing some of the water out of the tub. Your jaw dropped into a smile.

“So you do like them. I knew it!” You gestured at your boyfriend with the bottle in your hand, “I knew it!”

Chris’ cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, yeah.. Now c'mere.” He reached an arm out to you, trying to pull you back. You moved farther away from his reach.

You smirked at Chris, “Not until you admit it.” You sunk back into the suds as if to prove your point.

“Baby, come on.” He pouted, arms crossing his chest.

You set your beer on the closed toilet seat beside the tub. Then, you mimicked his motions. “Baby, come on.” He rolled his eyes, a small grin on his face. You pressed your back against the other end of the tub, flinching at the cold meeting your warm back.

Chris raised an eyebrow, smirking, “Cold? You can come right here,” he patted his chest for emphasis, “and warm up.” You stuck up your chin, sinking more into the water and stretching out your legs. Your feet brushed against the top of Chris’ thighs and you felt a sense of power when you watched him shudder.

“Oh no, I’m quite alright here.” To prove your point, you took your bottle back into your hands, taking another sip. Chris snorted, taking up his drink again.

“Alright then.” He tilted his bottle up, not breaking eye contact. He licked his lips after, moving his arm to the outside of the tub. His bottle clicked as he tapped a beat against the plastic. Chris smirked, his blue eyes alit with mischief. You clenched your jaw, grinning at him. “Something wrong, sweetheart?” He smirked.

“I hate you, Evans.” You muttered. Chris wiggled his eyebrows at you, moving to the middle of the tub, before wrapping a hand around your ankle. You squealed as he pulled you quickly towards him. His hand moved up your leg, resting on your back.

“I don’t think you hate me that much.” He smiled, moving closer to your face. You cradled your drink to your chest, shrugging a bit. “And you were right. I like these baths.” He tugged at another strand of hair that had fallen. You opened your mouth, but Chris quickly pressed a kiss to your lips before you could get out an 'I told you so.’ He pulled back, lips ghosting over your own. “But you should know that the only reason I like them, is because I like you.”

“You like me?” You grinned.

Chris chuckled, rolling his eyes, “God, you can’t take a compliment.”

“Not when it’s not the truth.”

“Fine, I like these baths, because I love you, darling.” He gave up. You smiled at him, leaning forward.

“And I love you, Christopher.” You pressed a light kiss to his lips. You smiled as Chris smiled himself into the kiss.

After that night, you never had a problem in convincing Chris to ease into a bath filled with lavender scented bubbles with you.

anonymous asked:

Can you lay some Shance on me? I just had a fight with my sister and am feeling frustrated and sad. Your stuff normally puts a smile on my face and makes me giggle. Fluffy or smutty shance headcanons (or whatever), please?

I hope this helps some Nonny. It’s…a weird kind of fluff? Maybe? 

To help deal with being so far away from home, his family, and his friends Lance likes to draw. He doesn’t think he’s that great at it but it’s something he’s always liked to do in when he had time to himself and he’s got a lot of that all of a sudden. And lots of things to draw. Aliens, new planets, the lions, his team…once he finds some supplies deep in the castle it’s on. In short order he’s got sketches of landscapes and strange plants and ships and weapons piled up on his desk. Doodles of different people they meet, as best as he can remember them after the fact, and a ton of his team. Pidge is his second favorite subject because they provide endless facial expression material to practice. 

But Shiro is his favorite. He gets to be an expert at putting the strong lines of Shiro’s jaw to paper, catching just the way his eyes widen before he laughs, the curve of his lips when he’s fighting a smile, the size and shape of the scar on his face. The width of his shoulders and the shape of his back is something he has a particular amount of fun with.

He pays very close attention to the scars on Shiro’s body when he draws them. It takes time and work, real concentration to get it right because Shiro rarely lets any of them see any skin, so when he does he has to drink it all in. There’s a lot of ‘not quite’ right and he’s not even sure why he cares so much about getting something Shiro seems to find so embarrassing perfect but he sits up some nights working on it. It’s just…important, because it’s Shiro and everything about Shiro is important. 

He entertains the thought of asking Shiro to pose for him but that makes his stomach flip and heat rush to his face. He’s pretty sure he’d spend the entire time stuttering and blushing and getting nothing at all done. So he works on it alone, sometimes sticking the almost right sketches on his wall. And then pulling them down because god help him if anyone finds out he’s drawing shirtless or pantless Shiro and putting them on his wall, holy shit. 


A Bilbo Fanfic

Based on an imaginer found here

Every hobbit in the Shire could feel the storm coming that night, so it wasn’t unusual that we all shut up early for the evening, practically tasting the rain in the air.

The first rumble thunder sounded as Bilbo and I seated for dinner.

“Be the largest we have had in a while, I think.”  Bilbo says, staring out the window, the flash of lightning distant still.

“We need the rain at least.”  I placed his dinner in front of him and sat next to him.

He nods mutely and starts to tuck away at his meal, both of us enjoying a comfortable silence as we ate, the storm steadily rolling closer.

Keep reading

My dash is dead

Please like or reblog this post if you post any of the following and I will check out your blog!
DC, marvel, image, etc (comic related stuff in general)
Harry Potter
Queer positive posts in general
Stuff that’ll make me giggle
Cute or ‘kawaii’ shit (that type of aesthetic? I hate using kawaii unless I’m being ironic but I love that particular aesthetic…)
Baking and cooking!
Pretty drawings
Hair dye stuff

This picture makes me giggle mainly due to the stuff happening in the background. Retasu’s all nervous about swimming, Kei-kun is holding Quiche back, so he won’t interrupt our main 3 and Tart’s just staring at Minto and Zakuro’s fluffy-huggy time X3.

you know what I love? the line “here’s an itemized list of 30 years of disagreements” cuz I just? where did this list come from? did Hamilton spend several sleepless nights thinking back over the years and writing it down? did he keep a record of every time they disagreed? did he keep a record for every person he argued with?