tagging you because look at their faces

I overheard an argument in the bookstore today.
  • I was looking at Neil Gaiman’s books and on the next shelf over were a bunch of Stephen King novels. A couple was arguing as they made their way towards where I was standing.
  • Girl: What do you mean you don’t like any books?
  • Guy: I’ve just never read anything any good, it’s all been crap.
  • Girl: Are you fucking kidding me, all books are crap? is that what you’re saying?
  • Guy: Yep, all of them. I hate all books ever written.
  • (now they’re standing next to me, in front of the Stephen King books)
  • Girl: Isn’t ‘It’ your favorite movie?
  • Guy: OMG YES, it’s the best movie I’ve...
  • Girl: *hits him in the face with a copy of it* IT WAS A FUCKING BOOK FIRST YOU DOUCHEBAG.
  • Me: *dies laughing*
when I was 17 the first girl I’d ever loved told me if her parents found out about how I looked at her she’d be homeless. 
we cried for 2 days straight, 
and I told about concrete counter tops.
I told her about dark hardwood floors
with at least three knit blankets on every couch.
Our bedroom facing west 
because even though I love the sunrise, 
you look the best in our bed 
covered in nothing 
but the deep purple of sunset.
The library that would smell like our books 
had been there longer than our home had been standing on solid foundation, stone, reliable.
Sweet girl, I know they say not to make homes out of people 
but I don’t want anyone else’s dirty dishes on my counter.
I don’t want to take the trash out for anyone else at 11pm.
You’re the only person I’d race to kill a spider for in the shower.
How could you ever be without a home 
when every time I look at you I’m building ours.
—  anonymous

if your skin problems/conditions are so extreme that essential oils aren’t an option, that’s okay!!!

if your skin problems are so extreme that you can’t use cutesy little products, you use medical-looking ones, that’s okay!!!

if your skin problems are so extreme that trendy face masks don’t do a thing, that’s okay!!!

if your skin problems persistent, extreme, and even annoying, that’s okay and you are beautiful!!!

Back in Uni..
10

From AToTS storyboard. (I don’t know whether this has been posted or not)

I am ruined

I spent more time on his hat than his face tbh and didn’t put a lot of effort in his clothes but here is the thing

I need them to post more selfies so I can draw more 😬😬😬

2

BSD rarepair week - Day 1: “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” - Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind (because Fuku gave no damns about a gun being held to Mori’s head. Chapter 50 feels hit me in the face man)

And of course, Mori is a doctor and can do basic self-treatment. He may be looking for an excuse of some sort, for something…

(Prompt by @buraihas, thank you!!)

i want to like. make a list of not-str8 historical figures bc ppl are tagging that walt whitman post like “omg wait really” & honestly yall deserve better.

Like, you know who wasn’t straight? Charlotte Bronte, who wrote Jane Eyre. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, who wrote Swan Lake. E.M. Forster, who wrote A Passage to India. Marcel Proust. Henry James. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Virginia Woolf. Herman Melville. Michelangelo. Leonardo Da Vinci. Socrates. William fucking Shakespeare.

And these are just (a few of) the ones we known about, because there’s a storied history of coded messages in literature that mean we are often looking gay metaphors in the face and not understanding them. We’re there, we’re out there, and I’m so mad that I didn’t know.

We have a history. We have a legacy. WE’VE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.

I, too, liked to shit on stuff other people liked when I was sixteen because let’s face it teenagers are fabulous assholes but honestly I just wanna look at pretty fanart without people busting into the tag like “I HAVE AN OPINION AND I WANT TO HAVE IT AS LOUDLY AS POSSIBLE” like

Dude

As you grow, you will begin to understand that not everything is black and white, you can enjoy problematic media, even while acknowledging its problema…nia… Yeah okay problemania, without suddenly becoming problematic yourself, because

(1) you are aware of the line between fiction and reality, (2) you no longer care as much about internet peer pressure (and yes, tumblr’s brand of social justice IS a very toxic form of peer pressure), and (3) you are not an idiot.

Of course you don’t watch The Matrix and think that shooting people is okay because they’re trapped inside a computer simulation. Of course things in the real world don’t turn out like in Disney movies. Of course you don’t read Royal Assassin and then start a letter writing campaign demanding to know who Taylor Swift’s catalyst is. Of course you don’t read a gay romance novel littered with yaoi tropes and then think people act that way in real life.

It’s a story, it’s fiction, and it’s important for you to realize that. YES it’s problematic, but goddamn it so is everything. Ender’s Game is a fantastic book written by a guy who thinks homosexuals should be imprisoned on an island somewhere. J R R Tolkien apparently forgot black people exist. Robin Hobb hates fanfiction. Taylor Swift won’t answer any of my letters!

What makes the story toxic or not depends solely on how YOU choose to interact with it. When I rec cap prince to people, I tell them “be warned there are some pretty gnarly things going on in these books, but it has a really entertaining story.” Then– and this is pretty important– I DONT go out and subjugate the nearest brown person, because that is not the part of the story I identified most with.

(Okay, I subjugate Sabra a LITTLE. but she likes it.)

Tumblr wants you to reject imperfect stories the same way it encourages you to reject imperfect people. Stick your head up out of the fog and realize how dangerous that is. How long until they come for whatever makes you happy? How long until they come for you?

Don’t read or watch things you don’t like, or that make you feel uncomfortable. But there’s no reason for you to police others, and no reason for them to police you. Let it go. Go find something that makes you happy and hold onto it.

Also get the hell out of my tag.

anonymous asked:

Alright. Real talk. Where is this boy's modelling career hiding at? He looks fucking flawless in every shoot, how has he not been approached yet. And, to quote John Mayer Liam's 'body is a wonderland'.

Hi,
ohmygod!!!!

You don’t just come in here and talk about Model Liam and John Mayer’s Body is a wonderland and fuck me up, no. But seriously, Calvin Klein has one fucking job????? And it’s not like this is recent, because aside from the emotional ROLLACOASTER these pics have been and like I actually have tags like ‘Where are Liam’s modelling contracts’ so you like, asked for this 

To quote Mayer, “Something about the way the hair falls in your face” fjnfklnlfkf

But Liam’s been serving them model looks since the start

He’s just walkingin trackies and a tee but that poise

CANDID!!!!

Rmr 1Dday, birth of unofficial Model!Liam

jhnfjkfnhkj HE’S ON STAGE

More CANDIDS

I need ta send this Pap a fruit basket for this capture!!!!

Red Carpet

MEANT TO SMOULDER, I MEAN

Us: I’m glad that neo-nazi fuck, Richard Spencer, got punched in the face. Punch nazis.

Some troll: The National Socialist German Worker’s Party hasn’t existed since 1945 so your use of the word nazi makes no sense. Checkmate. Gotcha. #kek

Us: You obviously know what we mean, and you’re just being purposefully ignorant and trying to get a rise out of us or make us look like we have no idea what we’re talking about. And if you’ll also note we use the term “neo-nazis,” just as much, if not more so and tag for both - but it doesn’t matter because YOU. KNOW. WHAT. WE. MEAN.

Someone who completely missed the point: Well ACTUALLY that obvious troll is right, you do use the word “nazi,” as opposed to “neo-nazi” sometimes. You’re coming off like an idiot, maybe you should be more specific with your words here. This is the real issue at hand.

Positive and not so positive headcanons of pre-voltron Lance because I cant think about anything else while walking home:

  • he’s one of those irritating guys who catcalls you on the street but he’ll always help an old person carry their stuff or give them their seat or walk them across the road or smth
  • he smiles back when children or babies look at him and he makes funny faces to make them laugh
  • he always gives to homeless people even if it’s the last money he has
  • when he has a chore to do he complains, a lot, the whole fucking time
    • but he does his best and does a pretty good job
  • he’s ridiculously competitive (fucking canon) and the sorest loser you’ll ever meet.
    • he literally will not speak to you for a week and holds petty grudges (“you thought I forgot about the time you humiliated me at scrabble?” “Lance that was fucking two years ago” “YOU CANT HEAL A BROKEN PRIDE WITH TIME, PIDGE”)
  • he’ll make fun of what you want for christmas but will secretly buy it and hide it in your room
  • he’s very sentimental and everything everyone has given him is stashed in a box hidden in his closet (or under his bed) and he has a scrapbook with all the movie tickets and stubs and stuff
  • he does nice things to his friends but hides it under an insult or a joke or smth
    • like holding the door for them (“I’ll get that, since youre small, you probably cant hold it open”)
    • or staying behind them when walking and watching their back
    • or buying them drinks when he sees them exhausted (“since I’m the awesomest friend in all of friendville, I figured I’d get you this, be grateful peasant”)
    • he will walk on the side nearest to the road while walking on a sidewalk in case an accident happens
  • he gets jealous easily when his friends gets friendly with another person (“hey lance wanna go see this new movie?” “why dont you go ask youR NEW BEST FRIEND???!”)
  • he’s a “I’m the only one who can insult my friend, anyone else will have to deal with me” person
  • harshest critic on cooking food (“ugh, my sister who hasnt even been toilet trained can probably make a better lasagna than you”) hut probably can’t even cook
  • he probably carries a first aid kit at all times because of how many times his siblings get scratches and stuff
  • he’s a shock absorber, whenever theres an argument, he puts all the heat on him (by laughing out loud or pulling a joke) because it’s better if theyre mad at him than at each other (being the 2nd child in the family made him that way)

I’ll add more as boring days go by. I hope this isn’t somehow offensive or anything.

Back to the Past (Hamilton x Reader) 3

Words: 2194

Tags: @ghcstflower @mehrmonga @princessoftrash1234 @theamazingfeministunicorn @caswhatareyoudoingstahp @fanagelbagel @the-founding-fuckboys @batgurl32467 @21phantasticromances @live-to-the-fullest18 @looneylovegoodx @onelastfic @sbobsessions @gonnamurderyou 

A/N: not gonna lie, i’ve been procrastinating on writing this, because i had a brain fart. fyi for all you new writers out there, maybe write an outline before writing something. would really help the process, just saying. besides that, enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4


You nodded at all of them, putting the pen in the pocket of the pants you were given. You saw Hamilton’s face drop, and a small snicker from Mulligan. You stood up, giving all of them a quick glance, finally landing on Hamilton’s face.

“So, how am I going to get back home?” You asked the men. Lafayette looked at the others, then shrugged.

“No idea, miss. Maybe we can create this machine you call a moving paper that you research words on. How you say…?” He asked, waving his hand around.

“A computer. It’s called a computer.” You mumbled. “But you haven’t even created electricity, and the first computer was in the 1900s. So there’s no way that’s going to happen.” Laurens bit his lip.

“Electricity? What is this electricity?” Laurens asked, looking at his friends for help.

“And you said 1900s. Does this mean that the colonies still exist at that time?” Hamilton asked after.

“And why do you speak these strange words, are you trying to confuse us?” Mulligan questioned, crossing his arms.

“I am very of the confused.” Lafayette sat on the stool next to Hamilton’s desk, putting his head in his hands. “These English people are more fusing than the empire.”

“fusing? Don’t you mean confusing?” You helped, and Lafayette nodded. “Guys, I get it, it’s strange to hear about this stuff. Honestly, I want to tell you everything, I do. But I don’t know what could happen. I mean, I told you about a pen, and you guys thought it was witches-“

“That was Hamilton.” Mulligan pointed out, gesturing towards the man. Hamilton looked at you shyly, glancing down at the floor. You smiled at him, then looked back at Mulligan. He winked.

“That’s not the point I was trying to make. You see, even mentioning these things can change the course of the world. I mean, I’ve watched so many films about time traveling…” You trailed off, looking at the perturbed men in front of you.

“Are you talking about something like Gulliver’s Travels?” Hamilton asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the reference. “I want to help you, Miss Y/N. Anything with what you might need, I am here to help you.” He stared at you intensely, his eyes never leaving yours.

The five of you talked like this for a while, trying to come up with the best ideas. Mulligan mentioned a gypsy that he “knew” the other night, but you dropped that idea, not wanting to deal with any type of magic. It just doesn’t seem realistic to you. Laurens had few ideas, one was for you to pretend to be a man while you were staying inside the tent. You denied that idea too, since it might make you fight in a battle you certainly weren’t ready for. Lafayette did not have much to say, sometimes interrupting your chats with random questions. Hamilton paced back and forth across the tent, his hand under his chin and his eyes lost in his head. You admired how hard he was thinking about this.

“How about this, Miss Y/N. You go to a fortune teller, and they may be able to help you find out the answer.” Mulligan pumped his fist in the air, happy his idea was chosen. You sighed, looking at his antics. “Listen, this makes the most sense. Since this is, in fact, a supernatural occurrence, we might need supernatural help. Even if it is a witch.” All the men shuddered at the thought, besides Mulligan. He was grinning widely.

You told them earlier that they did not have to use miss when addressing you, but they seemed to ignore your request, continuing to call you this anyway.

“I have the woman’s address, if you want to write her a letter.” You forgot that they did not have phones, and frowned. Sending a letter would take too long, and you needed help as soon as possible.

“No, we go to her tonight. Miss Y/N needs help as quickly as possible. There’s no time for waiting.” Hamilton replied, reading your mind. He glanced over at you, as if he was asking if this was okay. You nodded, touching his arm. He blushed at the contact, and you let go quickly.

Right, no touching.

“I agree, but we should wait until morning. You four must be exhausted, and it’s been a long day. Especially for you.” You looked at Hamilton. He nodded slowly, turning towards the men.

“Tomorrow morning at four we leave to the witch.”

“Gypsy.” Mulligan corrected, causing a glare from Hamilton. They all began to walk out, but not before glancing over at me.

“Where is Miss Y/N going to rest? She cannot sleep in a man’s tent.” Lafayette said. You shrugged, looking around for a blanket. You saw one hanging up in the corner, and pointed to it.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor, not a big deal.” They all gasped, shaking their heads quickly. They were all speaking at the same time, and it was hard to understand everything that was being tossed back and forth. You barely deciphered what was going on, and watched their ranting to each other:

Lafayette: No lady sleeps on the floor, not even in the middle of a war.

Laurens: She can sleep in our tent, Laf. No one would mess with her if she’s there.

Lafayette: That is the truth, Laurens. Our tent is very safe for females.

Mulligan: The way you said that Laf made you sound quite strange. And creepy.

Hamilton: What are you trying to say? She’ll be just fine in mine! And she met me first, so she’ll be the most comfortable in my tent.

Mulligan: She could sleep in mine.

All (besides Mulligan): NO!

“Okay, guys, okay! I’m standing right here, and you’re ignoring me. Hello?” You tried to speak through their arguing, but they talked over you.

You decided to grab the cover you found in the corner of the room, beginning to make your makeshift bed on the floor. They didn’t notice you creating the mat on the floor, but their arguing grew louder. You tensed up, hoping no one heard what they were talking about exactly. After you took one of the sheets from Hamilton’s bed, you laid on the ground, turning your back to the men.

“Miss Y/N, right you’ll be fine in here, right?” Hamilton said, noticing your figure on the ground. You were soon sound asleep, tired of listening to their talking. Hamilton turned back to the men, smiling. “She’s safe in here with me, friends. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” They all walked out the room, Mulligan grumbling something about Hamilton always getting his way. Hamilton blew out the candles in the tent, making his way to the cot.

He hated leaving you to sleep on the floor, so, while making sure you were sound asleep, he picked you off the floor, placing you on his bed. You mumbled something about cupcakes, he has never heard about cups being made into cake, and he pulled the sheet on top of you, knowing that the nights grew quite cold around here.

He took himself to the floor, laughing softly at the makeshift bed you created. You were very different, different from anyone he has ever met. As Hamilton adjusted to the curve of the ground, he faced you, watching your body lift and fall from the breaths you took. He was interested in learning more about you, more about where you were from. Of course he wanted you to go back to your home safety, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest. He’s only just met you, and he wanted you to stay with him if possible.

He closed his eyes, dreaming of you and him sitting in the tent, talking about nothing and everything.


Hamilton opened his eyes, their gaze immediately landing on the empty cot in front of him. He scrambled off the floor, looking around the room. You were no where to be found. He panicked, mentally slapping himself. He should have slept in front of you, he should have been paying more attention. Hamilton began to shake, scared of what might have happened to you. He heard the tent door rustle, and looked towards it quickly. You walked in, wearing an elegant dress. You smiled at Hamilton, and he sighed in relief, his hand against the left side of his chest.

“Are you all right, Hamilton?”

“Y-Yes, Miss Y/N. I am fine, how are you, did you sleep well?” You nodded, smoothing down the fabric. He was smiling at you, and you wondered why he was so happy. He was scanning your figure, looking at your new outfit.

“I slept fine. You put me on your bed, did you not?” You cringed at your poor attempt of speaking how they did in the 1700s. Hamilton did not seem to notice, but his face reddened.

He was spitting out words fast, making your head hurt. “I, I’m sorry for touching you, Miss Y/N. It is improper, and I should not have-“

“Whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, Ham. It’s fine, I am not warning you not to do it again. I’m, I’m thanking you. Thank you, Alexander, for lending me your bed for the night. I really appreciate your kindness.”

Alexander smiled at you shyly, looking down at the ground. “There is nothing that I would not do to please you, Miss Y/N.” You laughed nervously, playing with your fingers.

“Sorry to interrupt this very intense conversation, but it is four, and we have to leave before rollcall.” Laurens said, peeking his head in. He looked at you, and smiled. “You look beautiful, Miss Y/N!” You giggled.

“Thank you, John. Hercules picked it out for me.” You heard a snorting in the background, and looked at Alexander, a forced smile on his face.

“Of course, it’s Mulligan, it’s always Mulligan.” Another head popped in, his curls pulled back, except for one. You smiled at Lafayette, and he winked at you.

“Hurry up and get ready, mon ami. We have to leave.” You decided to let Alexander get himself together, leaving him in the tent alone. You did not notice the jealous glare when you mentioned Mulligan, or how his eyes stayed on your dress for a little too long. Lafayette and Laurens hid you on the way to the tree where you said that all of you would meet.

Laurens mentioned what type of relationship that you have with Hamilton, and you just shrugged. “Nothing really, we did just meet yesterday. I barely know him.” You replied, causing a snicker from the Irishman leaning on the tree.

“Courting does not take that long, Miss Y/N. By the way he goes after you, you may be engaged within a week.” Mulligan teased. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him.

“I’m not gonna marry a man I’ve just met. It takes time, like maybe a few years?” Lafayette widened his eyes at your response.

“Years? Miss, that’s very strange, I have never heard this before. The longest time I have heard was a few months.” You shrugged your shoulders. Being married in a few weeks? No way, that’s insane. Well, at least it was to you. The strange looks that the three men gave you made you guess that that was a very common occurrence. Hamilton finally came out of his tent, without his revolutionary uniform on. You then noticed all the men were without their uniform, wearing what you suppose was casual wear.

You all followed Mulligan to the woman’s address, the friends laughing and joking along the way. There were few people up this early in the morning, and the ones you saw gave you all strange looks, their gaze mainly focusing on you. You felt like an outsider, covering yourself with the jacket that Laurens gave you. After about a half an hour or so of walking, you walked up to the woman’s house. Mulligan knocked on the front door.

Within seconds, a woman appeared on the other side. She glared at Mulligan, hitting him on the arm. Mulligan cursed, backing up at little from her. She was, very interesting. The ruffles on her sleeves cascaded down to the floor, her dress long and wide. You glanced down at yours, thanking the tailor that he gave you one less attention-grabbing.

“Sir, I told you to never see me again. Why are you on the porch of my home?” She glared at the other men around her, her eyes finally landing on me. “Miss Y/N, I’m sorry that you have to deal with these men, especially him.” She nudged Mulligan.

How did she know your name?

“How did you know her name?” Hamilton asked, standing slightly in front of you. You peeked over his shoulder, glancing at the woman. She laughed, opening her door wider.

“This man did not lie when he said I could help you. Come in.” All the men shared a glance with one another, then entered the home. You hoped that she could help you get back home.


“Babe”- Seth Rollins

Prompt: Seth And Reader can’t stand each other constantly fighting but it’s cause they like each other.

Whenever Seth Rollins would walk towards you backstage or his theme music would start or you just hear his voice you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. From the moment he turned on Dean and Roman and became the most arrogant person backstage, you just wanted to punch him in the face. 

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Wanna Try That Again?

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Words:   622

-The reader isn’t sure of Dean’s feelings. She wants to know-

A/N: If you want to be tagged in anything, send me an ask.

Originally posted by soluscheese

         You glared at him from across the room. He was acting like he hadn’t done anything. Like everything was fine.

           And then he caught the look on your face and turned toward you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked.

           You stomped over to him, in the swarm of women who were trying to get his attention, “Dean Winchester, you are a complete ass!” you yelled, pulling your arm back, prepared to punch him in the face.

           Dean’s hand came up and grabbed your wrist, stopping the blow, “Wanna try that again, Sweetheart?” he asked.

           “I’m done,” you pulled free from his grasp and turned quickly, leaving the bar as fast as you could.

           “Y/N!” Dean called after you as you made your way to your car, “Y/N, what the hell is going on?”

           You pulled your keys out of your hoodie pocket and tried to get your car unlocked. You wanted away from him.

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