that was kind of like a kick in the balls

let me get this straight

Rhysand drugged Feyre and made her dance and be humiliated UtM, but you can understand, forgive, and ship feysand.

Nesta insulted Cassian in a way she knew would hurt and literally kicked him in the balls, but you can understand, forgive and still ship nessian.

Elain and Lucien have spoken like two words to each other, but you ship elucien.

But somehow… Mor and Az, who have shown kindness and caring and consideration for each other, against whom the only really argument is “what have they been doing for 500 years?”… that’s too much. That’s where you draw the line.


***I want to point out that I do ship all of these, to more or less of an extent. I, too, understand and forgive, for the most part. But… sometimes people’s attitudes towards moriel baffle the fuck out of me.

anonymous asked:

au where even is head of the football team and isak head of the cheerleaders and they become the power couple of school

pls!!!!! but before they do, they dont really like each other. both thinks the other one is really selfish and all so they always fight but that…tension is always there….and one day the cheerleaders are practicing out on the field and the football team is fooling around until everyone arrives to play,and someone kicks the ball over to them and even is like “i’ll get it” and he runs up all smug to isak and the others and he’s like “so incredibly sorry to interrupt” smirking and he takes forever to get the ball on purpose and isak is like “can you just hurry up and leave, this is kind of a no-asshole zone” and the others are giggling and even finds the ball and does some juggling with it and then looks at isak like “so why are you here” and isak clenches his jaw but cant say anything and even winks and runs back to the football team and isak just yells a fuck you after him and even gives a thumbs up and grins and then turns the thumbs up to the middle finger … i just really want some haters to lovers fic sldkjf

So here is yet another post about Spanish that I hope you all langblrs will like. I present to you 10 words that exist in Spanish but don’t exist in English.

Knowing and using them in your vocabulary shows how fluent you actually are so hopefully this will help you.

1. Chueco/a: 

This can be roughly be translated as “not straight” BUT NOT IN THE SEXUAL ORIENTATION KIND OF WAY. It literally means not being able to do something in a straight line. 

For example: Not able to draw a straight line? You draw chueco/a. Tried kicking a soccer ball in a straight line but it ended up in the far left side of the court? You kick chueco/a.

2. Empalagado/a: 

This is what happens when you eat too much sugar. 

For example: You know that feeling of nausea and awkward fullness after you have eaten like five cupcakes, two chocolate bars and three bottles of soda? THEN is when you feel empalagado/a.

3. Despistado/a: 

So I Google-translated this word and it came out as “lackadaisical”. I don’t think anyone actually uses that word. SO, it means someone who doesn’t pay attention to anything and daydreams most of the time. It is not a permanent feature tho, you can be despistado/a just during your math class. 

For example: If someone asks you a question and you don’t answer because you were too busy thinking about Zac Efron, then you are despistado/a.

4. Tocayo/a: 

It refers to someone who shares name with you. 

For example: Let’s imagine your name is Hermione and suddenly you meet someone whose name is ALSO Hermione. Voilá! That person is now your tocayo/a.

5. Buen provecho: This is not a word but a phrase. It means something like “have a good meal”, it is kinda close to saying “bon appettit” in French. It is frequently used before you start a meal but also as a sign of respect when you run into someone who is currently eating. Also, it is not a phrase used only for “fancy” situations, it actually works whenever someone is eating. 

For example: If you are eating at a restaurant with a group, you say buen provecho before you start eating, but also let’s imagine you are walking around the city and see your boss eating tacos from a food truck, then you also say buen provecho. Freaking good manners.

6. Desgraciado/a: Oh this is a funny one. You might think, at first sight, that this word refers to someone who is not very graceful. WRONG. If you Google-translate the word, it may drive you to think it means “unfortunate”. ALSO WRONG. This is what you call someone who has been a jerk. Someone who didn’t treat you right. Like honestly, someone you really hate. 

For example: Your boyfriend just dumped you on your birthday? He is a desgraciado. Your group-project colleague disappeared during the whole process and just showed up to put her name on the project? She is a desgraciada. It is such a powerful word, I love it.

7. Llorón/Llorona: It refers to someone who cries A LOT. It doesn’t necessarily mean someone who cries but also someone who is very sensitive and gets sad about a lot of things, especially if those things aren’t really important. 

For example: Your sister just cried because she saw a very cute dog? She is a llorona. Your best friend just got VERY upset because he got a 99/100 on a test? He is a llorón (das me tho).

8. Te quiero: This is probably one of the phrases native Spanish speakers miss the most when they start speaking English. This is what you say to someone (and by someone it means a romantic partner most of the time) when you start getting feelings for them but you don’t love them just yet. If you did love them tho you would say “te amo”.  

For example: You have been dating someone for a while now and you know they are amazing but you are not in the “love” point just yet, then you say te quiero to them. No commitment, you guys.

9. Desvelado/a: It refers to someone that hasn’t slept for a while. 

For example: When you pull an all-nighter and show up to class late, with huge bags under your eyes and basically just feeling like a living-dead, you are desvelado/a.

10. Lampiño/a: It literally refers to someone that doesn’t have facial/body hair. 

For example: If you are trying to grow a beard but just can’t seem to grow any hair on your face you are a lampiño/a. Also, if you do not have to shave your legs at all for the summer because you have been blessed with the lack of body hair, then you are lampiño/a.

Hello guys I’m eggs. Of corse you know but I want to talk about my fnaf art style. Mainly for the sister location characters. In my style ballora is more of a human, baby is a small ass clown that likes to scream, ftfoxy is a rude ass whore, and ftfred is goofy as fuck, I don’t have a style for ennard. But that’s about to change. Here’s the changes I have decided.

Ballora: graceful, pretty, tall, kind, cares for others, loves to dance.

Circus baby: same hair style, different clothing, tall, respectful of others property, and likes to sing.

Ftfred: goofy, cute, lovable, loves to sing, loves cake, and screaming at bon bon is his favorite. Somewhat short.

Ftfoxy: sweet, caring, likes kick ball, dislikes children. Somewhat tall.

Ennard: clown, caring, loves to scream, likes to scare others in a fun and respectful manner, likes to share, loves hugs, and wants every one happy!

This is how its going to be until I change it but I think I’m happy with it for now!
And in the drawing, baby is 7'2 she’s just in the background.

Rin’s the kind of person who, if you were to kick him as hard as you could in the balls, wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. He’s incidentally also the kind of person who would sCREAM IF YOU POKED HIM ON THE SIDE OF HIS GUT.

Originally posted by asuka-chii

im still fuming like the way he touched her i wanted to kick im in the balls like honestly ??? he didn’t deserve even an ounce of the kind of friendship she showed him… women truly perform too much emotional labor for the wrong ass men…im so exhausted from even the concept….anyway he didnt deserve her and he never will good freakin night






// Antoine Griezmann therapy //

(Here’s to all my followers suffering from pain after France’s loss.)

Antoine spent a lot of time pondering during matches. Most of the time he would think about what kind of shot he should go for, or if at the brink of defeat, he wondered if it was even worth running around with a pair of burning lungs from fatigue and trying to kick the ball with his last remnants energy. Other time he thought about you, mainly about what mood you’d be in after the match and what sort of adorable statement you would make that would  make his heart coo out of endearment.

This time he thought about what sort of adjective you’d use to describe him instead of the usual noun hero you’d say. He liked that word. It made him feel a little like superman, something he was always discourage of being because of his frail figure during his childhood. Hero would definitely not be used again, not only did France lose the Euro cup but he couldn’t even make one goal for the team and especially you. Perhaps his luck ran out after that successful match with Germany.

But he wanted to hear that noun hero one more time before accepting his failure.

Antoine felt completely drained out of his own mind that even the simple equation of 2 + 2 made his brain ache a little. The game had lasted incredibly long with Portugal’s stubborn defense, and he felt so much regret that he had ran around for over 100 minutes all to gain nothing but shame for his own home country. He could have hit something out of anger, and should probably be bawling his eyes out but he was simply too jaded to even try to lift his wrists.

His heart thumped a little to see you, half from excitement and half from fear about what you would say to him. Antoine definitely did not and would not stand to see you cry; but that’s exactly what he was met with. You couldn’t help it, just the sheer sadness and exhaustion Antoine was suffering from pained you just to think about. After watching him work so hard and endure in training, this defeat was something he definitely did not deserved. In fact, nobody deserved this sort of failure but that was competition.

“No,” he said, “Don’t cry, please.” a little more softly this time. He walked towards you faster so he could just hold you into his arms. Like how he always did on a Friday night, after you finished watching a sad chick flick. Antoine gently pulled your crying figure onto his chest that probably reeked of sweat, and held you sweetly. You should definitely not be the one crying, instead it should be him spilling the tears. He hated seeing you cry, it tore every part of  his body apart more than any football injury could possibly do.

“Antoine,” you cried, tightly holding onto the back of his wet jersey shirt. “You’re still my hero.” It sort of came out like UYGSBDASHDAISHDIA, complete gibberish but Antoine could have recognized that noun escaping your lips from anywhere because it had a completely different concept to it when you said it. He smiled, despite knowing he had lost something so significant to his own home country. He loved that simple thought of being so important in your life, despite knowing he didn’t even deserve the title of hero anywhere today.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make anything for you.” he sighed, gently stroking the back of your hair as an act of comfort. Just this simple embrace inside corner of the hallway was enough for him to feel better. He shut his eyes, trying to forget about his aching muscles to find peace of the situation. You wanted to reply but you just couldn’t. You didn’t even know it was possible to be this sad. All you could do was listen to the sound of Antoine’s steady heartbeat channeling through your ears and enjoy this overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

“It’s okay, you played and fought so well, and I’m so proud of you.” But if only Antoine could see it the way you saw it. His heart ached a little more at the memory of the fact that he lost. Lost. He Lost. There was just something so goddamn bitter about such a simple, four lettered word. Antoine feared nothing more than losing.

“Hey,” he whispered, kissing your forehead and leaving the imprints of his lips for an incredibly long time before pulling away, “I love you.” That was the only coherent thing going on in his fuzzy brain so he offered it to you in the most genuine and sincere way he could because that was one thing and only thing he was definitely sure of; he was madly and deeply in love with you.

(sorry for the shit quality but i love him too much not to write this.)

Stella + Open ✦ Strangers

The dormitory halls were packed with students of all years. This wasn’t surprising, as it was still the first week to settle in before eventually doing what most Hope’s Peak Academy’s finest students would do; either not going to class to refine their skills or going to class to refine their skills. Many were either hauling their bags towards their dorms, visiting their friends, or exploring the campus for their own reasons. You were doing one of those things, weren’t you?

Among the crowded hall, something hits your shoe and rolls against the wall with a gentle clink. A good thing that you hadn’t kicked it either; it looked like you had just found a glass ball lying on the ground. It was smooth and a strong hue of purple. It sparkled so vibrantly, and when picking it up, it weighed heavily in your hand. To lose such a beautiful piece would be terrifying, you’re sure, so what kind of person would lose this in the first place–

“Excuse me?”

A chilling voice spoke behind you. Turning around to see the stranger didn’t relax you at all but with how suspiciously they were dressed.

“What are you doing?”

You know what we need…?

We seriously need Sawamura to save a game at Nationals. Like not with his pitching but BATTING.

Like since he seems to go all out on batting, but never even touches a ball with a bat once aside from bunting. We NEED some kind of animation or something when they’re tied and nobody has been able to score for like 10 innings. And he goes up to bat after saying something really badass like “I’m not a true baseball player if I can’t bat.”

And obviously no one believes him cuz they know he can’t bat to save his life. Miyuki would probably make a snarky remark, Kuramochi would just kick him, and Kanemaru would yell at him for being too cocky.

He goes up to bat, and the pitcher accidentally throws a meatball that so happens to come in contact with Sawamura’s bat. And since he swings so wildly it barely manages to fly over the fence. And he hits a hoME FREAKIN RUN. Everyone (including himself) hardly believe it, and once he runs the bases the whole team floods out of the dugout to hug him.

While he screams, “YOSH, YOSH, YOSH!”

Sawamura actually was secretly doing weight training and swinging late at night when everyone was asleep for a while. Once Chris tells him, “You need to work on your batting, otherwise you’ll just weigh the team down.” (As blut as always). And so including from running early in the morning and the pitching he does all day he also worked on his batting.

Is everyone ready for a Hiyori appreciation post?! Okay good.

  • Is adorably and admirably committed to her extracurricular interest (e.g. Touno-sama slamming his opponents into the motherfucking GROUND)
  • Has, like the cutest face ever. Seriously, how is this girl single. Yato you know what to do
  • Is the Mom Friend™
  • Has been proven to kick immortal ass when said immortal ass threatens her people.
  • Helps save angsty honey-nut cheerio from becoming a corrupted phantom through the literal Power of Friendship.
  • Is extraordinarily kind, almost too kind. She’s so nice. My baby daughter, please let her be happy.
  • Is a ball of dork and cannot help it; not even a little bit.
  • Goes to sleep a lot, which I find personally relatable.
  • Despite being an ass-kicking cinnamon roll, she is not perfect, which makes her human and that’s even better.
  • I find it worth mentioning that it is her kindness and her selflessness that lead her to stick with Yato and Yukine. She really doesn’t stand to benefit much from it, but she recognizes that they need her–or she at least recognizes that they need something, and she tries to provide whatever that is. She is essential to the story, and to them, by how genuinely good she is, and I think that’s just…..really sweet.
  • There’s a lot more but:
  • In conclusion, Hiyori is wonderful, A+++, and I’ll fight for her. although she could easily do it herself, and it would be terrifying
Fuck FIFA,

I’m sorry but I am still so angry at the fact that the WWC is played on turf. What kind of bullshit? Fuck FIFA cause honestly this is just another kick in the ass to gender equality. The amount of injuries that will come from this tournament will be staggering and that is a fact. The men would never play on turf, it just wouldn’t happen! It’s like every official in FIFA history got together and said, “ You know what let’s use turf, but not for the men, no they’d get hurt, let’s just use it on the women and see what happens!” What kind of fuckery? 

Turf affects EVERYTHING about the game. The way the ball moves, the speed of the ball, and more importantly, THE PLAYERS. Players can’t even slide tackle without having their skin quite literally ripped off. They pull their socks over their knees now, wear compression shorts, and even rub Vaseline on themselves just to do everything they can to prevent the burns. But it is inevitable. 

Not to mention the fact that while Canada has had good weather for the tournament, the artificial grass captures any heat because it is plastic, which means while the weather may be 75 degrees, the grass is 120. That’s a fact, you can look it up if you want. 

AND the only reason FIFA has agreed to never use turf again, is because women players were outraged and even sued FIFA for it. If they hadn’t fought for it, turf would be used for women regularly for all the tournaments to come. And why? Because it’s cheaper, and who wants to spend more money on an underrated women’s tournament. Save the money for the men right?

I may be a HUGE fan of the Men’s world cup too, but this is not about the players themselves, it’s FIFA. I’m sorry football does not need FIFA. Their dictatorship has lasted too long.

Kickball (Peter Parker X Reader)

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man
Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader
Word Count: 1,869
Author’s Note: Takes place sometime when both Peter and the reader are in high school (after Peter becomes Spider-Man though). Gwen just kind of doesn’t exist, or if she does, they’re just friends.

“I hate kickball.” You murmured, your words barely audible as you buried your head in Peter’s chest.

“Me too.” He said comfortingly, rubbing your back before pushing you in front of him. “C’mon, kiddo, you got this.” He smiled encouragingly, flashing you a thumbs up.

“You’re like two months older than me, you can’t call me kiddo!” You argued before turning your attention to the ball.

The over achiever in your gym class rolled the ball towards you and you kicked it with the side of your foot, watching it sail into the air. It landed right in someone’s arms, and you cheered slightly (you didn’t have to run, score!), before turning around to go to the end of the line.

You, somehow (seriously, you had no idea how), tripped over your foot and landed on the dirty gym floor with a dull thud. You heard snickers from some of your classmates and you felt your face flush, cursing your __s/c__ skin.

“You okay, __y/n__?” You heard Peter ask gently and you shook your head.

“Nope. I’m staying here for the rest of eternity.”

Peter chuckled, moving in front of you and sticking out both hands to help you up. You reluctantly took his hands and let him pull you to your feet, walking back to the end of the line as Peter moved into the kicker’s position.

“Knock ‘em dead!” You cheered, and you were thankful for the blush that was already coloring your face when Peter turned to look at you and winked.

Peter then looked back at the ball and kicked it with a great deal of force, right into the chest of the guy who had rolled the ball towards him. He stumbled a little bit, not in serious pain, but a bit of discomfort, and you had to bite your lip to hold back your laughter.

Regardless, the guy caught the ball and Peter was out, moving to the back of the line with you. He was grinning.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, you didn’t have to do that.” You said, shaking your head in mock disbelief (the fond smile on your lips kind of ruined the effect).

He shrugged sheepishly. “I know.”

You glanced away from Peter momentarily (he was your best friend, but he was still stunningly attractive and it was hard to look directly at him sometimes), gazing down at your legs.

It was then that you noticed your tights had a rather large rip right on the left knee.

You groaned, slapping your palm to your forehead. “I hate gym. And kickball. And Mr. Hahn. So, so much.”

Peter frowned, his eyes following the path to your legs. He noticed the rip and his frown deepened, before he hooked a hand behind your neck and pulled you closer, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

“Look on the bright side, there’s only ten minutes left of this class period.” Peter said, obviously trying to cheer you up.

“That is ten minutes too many.” You said, burying your face in his chest again (unbeknownst to you, Peter’s face was a light cherry color now, as well).


Peter looked around the Wal-Mart, awkwardly trying to find tights. He was a teenage boy, how was he supposed to know where they were located?

He stumbled into the woman’s clothing section, and upon realizing that they were not in that area, he moved to the women’s underclothes area. He walked through three rows of lacy bras and tiny, barely there underwear (his face stained a vibrant red the whole time) before he, at last, found the aisle of tights.

And oh god, why were there so many different types?

There were thick ones, thin ones, brightly colored ones, dark ones, patterned ones, plain ones, and that was just the beginning.

Thankfully, Peter knew that the pair you had ripped was a simple, black pair (he only knew that because he stared at your legs when they were wrapped in those tights way more than he, as your best friend, should’ve), or he would’ve spent all day trying to figure out which pair was the most similar to your ruined ones.

He grabbed the ones that he thought were your size off of the rack (as well as something that he knew you had been wanting) and walked over to a checkout counter, waiting patiently in line until it was his turn.

The cashier, a friendly looking old lady, eyed him oddly as he placed both items on the conveyer belt, and Peter ducked his head away from her questioning gaze, digging around in his pocket for his wallet.

“Present for your girlfriend?” The cashier finally asked, a knowing smile on her lips.

Peter blushed as she rung up his purchase, mumbling a “She’s not my girlfriend” before handing her a twenty and a ten dollar bill. The cashier shook her head, handing him his change and putting the tights in a bag.

“Not yet, dear, not yet.” And then she winked at him, shooing him out of the store before he could argue.


The Ghostbusters theme song suddenly started playing from your phone, jolting you out of the episode of Supernatural you were currently watching. You clicked pause on your laptop and picked up your phone, a grin splitting across your face.

To: __y/n__

Hey, you home? I have something for you  (:

From: Peter <3

You texted back immediately.

To: Peter <3

A present??? (and why would I not be home? You’re the only person I ever hang out with :-P )

From: __y/n__

Peter smiled at his phone, rolling his eyes at you. He sent back a quick “See you soon, kiddo” because he knew it would annoy you, before shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing the bag that contained your presents (he had gone back to the store and gotten a little gift bag for the items the next day).

Aunt May’s apartment was only ten minutes away from your parent’s apartment, so Peter was knocking on your door before you had even bothered putting on pants (it was late May and your room was hot, so you were wearing fairly short sleep shorts).

You decided that it wasn’t that big of deal, you and Peter used to go swimming together all the time when you were younger, so you simply closed your laptop and left your room.

You threw open the door, exclaimed “Petie!”, and tackled Peter in a hug before Peter even had time to come in the door.

Peter chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, returning the hug without complaint.

“You know I saw you two days ago, right?” Peter asked, his words muffled by your hair.

“I know.” You answered, before shrugging. “Is it a crime to want to hug my best friend?”

Peter shook his head, pressing a kiss to your hairline and breaking the hug. “Not at all. Now,” Peter shook the bag in front of you, reminding you that it was there. “Presents?”

You nodded excitedly, before your smile drooped. “I feel bad though, I don’t have anything for you.”

“The gift of your friendship is enough for me.” He said, and the grin on his face let you know that it really didn’t matter that you didn’t have a present for him.

“How do I get lucky enough to have you as a best friend?” You questioned, finally taking the offered bag with a soft smile.

He smiled sheepishly, unable to formulate a proper response because of your kind words and distractingly bare legs, and gestured for you to open the bag.

You did as Peter asked, grinning as you pulled out a pair of tights.

“Peter,” You started, shaking your head in disbelief that he had remembered that you had ripped your tights and, even more so than that, actually did something about it. “I love you. So friggin’ much.”

“I love you too.” Peter said and tried to ignore the way his heart flip flopped at your words. Calm down, Peter. He thought, mentally scolding himself. It’s not like she’s never said that to you before.

You looked back in the bag, completely oblivious to Peter’s inner turmoil, and were surprised to see that something else was inside. You put your hand back in and extracted a blue shirt with a cartoon drawing of the vigilante known as Spider-Man.

Peter knew that you were a big fan of what the hero was doing, as were a lot of people in New York, so he knew that you would appreciate the shirt (plus, you didn’t know that he was Spider-Man, and he liked the idea of you wearing a shirt that had him on it, sue him).

“Oh my god, Peter! This is awesome!” You gushed excitedly, throwing it on over your tank top and missing the shy smile that crossed his face. The shirt fit perfectly and you grinned again, and then, without thinking, you leaned forward and tilted your head, gently pressing your lips to Peter’s.

Peter made a sound of surprise in his throat and you started to pull away, but were stopped by Peter’s hands flying to your cheeks, keeping your lips pressed against his as he started to kiss you back.

The kiss was awkward, Peter’s glasses kept almost crashing into your eyes and your nose bumped with his every time one of you moved, but by the time you broke the kiss, you were both grinning.

Peter pushed his glasses up with his index finger and his smile softened before he spoke, a teasing note in his voice. “If that’s the thanks I get for getting you a shirt, I should’ve been buying you all your shirts for years.”

“Petie, you would’ve never been able to afford my addiction to t-shirts. Do you have any idea how many Walking Dead shirts I own?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” You said, shaking your head with a grin, and because you could now, you raised yourself up on your toes and pecked his nose and both corners of his mouth, before finally planting a kiss square on his mouth.

The noise of agreement that spilled out of Peter’s mouth encouraged you, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers through his brown hair and tugging lightly on the strands at the nape of his neck.

Peter groaned and moved his arms to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. That went on for a solid twenty seconds before you finally pulled away, a soft, gentle smile on your lips.

“I love you. And before you ask, no, not platonically.” You murmured, still carding your fingers through his hair.

Peter grinned and kissed your forehead. “I love you too. Also not platonically.”

“You know,” You started, breaking out of the embrace and grabbing his hand before pulling him into your room. “I think I might actually kind of like kickball.”

You had to kiss Peter again to muffle the sound of his ridiculously loud (but extremely adorable) laughter (you couldn’t let your neighbors file a noise complaint, could you?).

End.   <3

The Signs’ Sleep Habits:

Aries: The worst bed-mate if you like space. Out like a light, then they sprawl their whole body so that you are either off the bed or pinned to it by their legs.

Taurus: Actually moves A LOT in their sleep. If there is another person with them they gravitate to them. BLANKET HOGS.

Gemini: Do they sleep? Do they have built-in solar panels to recharge as needed? Who knows! (If they do sleep they talk/mumble a lot.)

Cancer: Curls up into a ball (or similar position) and stays up thinking for quite a while, but overall they get good sleep and don’t like getting up early.

Leo: Either hog all of the blankets and pillows only to kick them off, or very still, regal-looking sleepers.

Virgo: Very routine sleeping patterns. These vary from person to person, but there is some kind of sleep routine.

Libra: Likes to be SUPER comfy. Pretty fidgety while falling asleep, but very peaceful once actually sleeping. Also capable of staying up all night.

Scorpio: Falls asleep on the couch, then wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks. Fairly still sleepers.

Sagittarius: Up every two hours. When they do sleep they move around a lot and take up more space than they need to.

Capricorn: They either don’t/can’t sleep at all, or they totally crash and nothing can wake them up.

Aquarius: Sleep like a like a rock unless plagued by anger, sadness, or nightmares. Then they don’t sleep for weeks.

Pisces: Princesses/Princes of sleepy time. They LOVE sleep. Really. They fall asleep fast and usually have vivid dreams.

Of course, many powerful figures grew up under the harsh guidance of one or more parents. But that disapproval usually lets up after someone achieves genuine, going-down-forever-in-history greatness. For instance, you’d imagine that once George Washington helped found an entire nation and became its first trusted leader, Mary Ball Washington would finally stop bringing up the time he shit his pants in Sunday school in front of all the neighbors. Sadly, this was not the case.

While Washington was out kicking the asses of various opposing nations during his military career, Mary Ball was only really interested in how much money he was going to send back home to her. And this wasn’t a case of a poor kid hitting it big and buying his mom a house – the Washington family was kind of loaded. Mary Ball loved getting that sweet, sweet paper more than she cared about whatever war her son was out fighting. She was like a kid who gets a birthday check in the mail and throws the card away without reading it.

While Washington was fighting in the French and Indian War, his mother sent a letter to him on the front lines. It wasn’t to offer encouragement or to tell him that she was proud of his service to the nation – she simply requested that he send her some butter and a Dutchman. You know, while he was out.

That’s not wartime code for something, by the way. Mary Ball wanted her son, who was busy fighting in a war, to send her 1) groceries, and 2) a living Dutch person to be her indentured servant.

Iconic People Who Had Shockingly Horrifying Childhoods

I’ve had this wip sitting in my files for a while and I figured I might as well post it since I suspect it will remain unfinished (I dunno, I might come back to it).

So have some tiny Agravaine and Gawain being packed off to Camelot to be trained as knights and saying goodbye to their mother. Who is probably giving them advice like ‘Your uncle is a dick.  Trust no one.  Except maybe Kay, he’s okay I guess. He’s less stupid than the rest of them anyway. Also give Merlin a kick in the balls for me’.

It’s warm.

The good kind. The kind that you feel when you fall into blankets after drying yourself off from the frigid ocean water. The warmth of comfort. It covers your skin. Coats your throat. You breathe it in and it doesn’t taste like salt. It doesn’t taste like dirt. Or dust. Or blood. Or trace amounts of a potentially toxic gas.

Jake kicks the soccer ball from between your feet and you’re stunned for a few seconds. Still breathing the fresh air. Still gazing into the sunny park. You feel normal. The good kind of normal. It’s warm.

You rush after Jake and make for a sliding steal. Growing up, you never had room to run around with a soccer ball. You imagine yourself, your younger self, forging something vaguely spherical out of canvas or bedsheets. Attempting to kick it across your roof without it falling off. You were inventive: you would have found a way to make it work.

It’s the first time you’ve thought of your younger self and not internally cringed.

Your steal misses and you end up accidentally tripping Jake. He recovers quickly. He’s done this before. He showed you how to set up the goals with designating sticks. Demonstrated how to dribble the ball between your feet. Laughed when you fell on your ass a few times. Smiled when you had it mastered within half a day.

The ball goes sailing forwards and the two of you chase after it like the most earnest of young puppies, their collars jangling and their mouths excitedly yelping and their internet fame ripe for the filming.

You could go viral in this new world.

Holy shit.

You could truly become the meme you always wanted to be.

Jake kicks the ball out from your reach, again, and you smile.


ARIES:  “You’re like a pedophile without the sex.”

TAURUS: “Don’t fuck with my cooking shows!”

GEMINI: “My sign is get your ass up and help me with this shit.”

CANCER: “You look in her eyes and know she’s seen some shit.”

LEO: “You know who made up that ‘never snitch’ bullshit? People who probably deserved to be snitched on.”

VIRGO: “We are all just in here because we took the wrong turn going to church.”

LIBRA: “I want the kind of job where you could just, chill, you know.”

SCORPIO:  "Just don’t leave a bitch with blue balls.”

SAGITTARIUS: “Love. It’s just chilling, you know? Kicking it with somebody, talking, making mad stupid jokes. And, like, not even wanting to go to sleep, ‘cause then you might be without ‘em for a minute. And you don’t want that.”

CAPRICORN: “My name is POUSSEY. Accent a droite, bitch.”

AQUARIUS: “Did it ever occur to you that we don’t wanna get in touch with our feelings? That actually feeling our feelings might make it impossible to survive in here?”

PISCES: “I don’t need to talk about how I need a drink, I need a reason not to drink.”

we know jungkook love tease jimin but he also so gentle to jimin, I noticed in some their interaction vid, like when they’re doing 160502 melon greeting when jimin talking..

*JK making kind of weird face while look at jm but stop right away when jm finished he’s talk and immediately answer his question*

JM : We really don’t want to let it go, but this time again we worked really hard for this album, right?
Jk : ne~ (in really soft tone while looking at jimin) u almost cant hear it if u didnt use headset

like when they’re on china event(?) he tease jimin when jimin about to start playing a game like kicking a ball (?) idk what the games name and when jm pointing his finger to jk to stop, jk immediately stop while nodding his head with smiley face, like he didnt wants jm mad at him >.<

or when jk holding jimin chair when jimin trying putting stocking in tae face like he didnt wants jm to falls T^T

sadly I cant gif it rn >.<

sorry for the bad eng >.<