that's what i live for tbh

I think it’s time we appreciated friends for what it really is: a sitcom about a lesbian couple, the lovely gay couple who live across the hall from them, their quirky pansexual best friend and the token heterosexual douche

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👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

Inquisitors + prosthetic arm

Now when we know that the Inquisitor is losing their arm no matter what at the end of Trespasser DLC, I really like to thing about different prosthesis for each one, based on the race, like:

  • Trevelyans having their forearm made of silverite lined with drakeskin leather, with family crests carved on the back of their hand. It looks like a ceremonial armor, decorated with ornaments in fashion of choice, but also full of hidden weapons.
  • Cadashes new arm is literally a weapon on a whole new level. It’s all bare gears and machinery, with detachable hand they can change for a blade or hammer, all made from steel and refined lyrium.
  • Adaars’ prosthesis are the simplest, but practical and elegant. Dragonbone core covered in layers of dragon hide painted black, branded with gold.
  • Lavellans is the most terrifying. It’s all twisted, living wood - be it ironbark, sylvanwood or dragonthorn, that’s personal preference. Matching the skin, it looks almost like naked muscles. Their hand can shaped with claws and even bloom once a year

Also, if they are mage, the Inquisitor’s arm can glow (especially Lavellans’ becasue tbh something has to keep that wood intact, right?)

That’s How a Moment Lasts Forever - Post-BatB Oneshot

“Grandfather?”

“Mmm?”

“Why do you keep so many tea sets?”

The old man chuckled, leaning back in his armchair as he watched his littlest grandchild.  While her two older siblings had chosen to play outside in the snow, she stared at his bookcase, which, instead of being filled with books, was lined with teapots and teacups made of wood, porcelain, and china.

“Well, you know your father’s a potter; he gives me the ones that no one wants.”

“But do you even use them?” the girl asked.  “They’ve got chips and cracks in them.  They wouldn’t make good tea.”

“You are definitely your mother’s daughter,” the old man replied.  “I suppose…I keep them because they deserve a home, a place to belong.”

The girl raised her eyebrows.  “You make it sound like they’re alive.”

“Well…” The old man’s voice took on a spooky tone.  “Sometimes they talk to me at night.”

The girl laughed. “No they don’t!”

“No, they don’t,” he agreed, laughing in return.  “But can’t an old man have his hobbies?  I like antiques!  I’m a collector, always have been!  You see that?” He pointed at a tiny, intricately decorated box on the mantel above the fireplace.  “It plays a lullaby if you open it. The king’s grandfather made that for me when I was a boy.”

“Really?” The tea sets were momentarily forgotten as the little girl ran over to the mantel and seized the box in her hands.  

“Careful!” The man raised a gnarled hand, but there was no need; the girl set the box down with the utmost care.  She lifted open the box, revealing a tiny, incredibly detailed replica of a rose.  The rest of the inside was gold and cornflower blue, with a castle painted on the inside of the lid.  She located the winding handle on the side, and with a nod from her grandfather, wound it up and let it play.

At once, a little melody, strong but sweet, began to emit from the box, causing the rose to rotate slowly in place.  The girl sat, entranced by the box, while the man closed his eyes and hummed along.

“You won’t find a box like that anywhere else,” he finally said.  “That’s why it’s special.”

The girl waited until the last notes faded away, then looked up at her grandfather to ask him a question.  But what she saw startled her into concern rather than curiosity.

“You’re crying, Grandfather!”  She rushed forward, drawing out her handkerchief to wipe his tears away.  The song was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t a song that should be cried over!

“Ah, well…” He smiled and let her wipe away his tears.  “You are very kind.  My mother used to sing that song for me.”  He didn’t need to say the rest.  

“Oh,” the girl whispered.  “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” the old man reassured her, smiling.  “Besides, I let that old box play every day, and you don’t see me crying all the time, do you?”

“No,” the girl answered, grinning.  “You’re very cheerful.”

“Well that’s good,” he exclaimed.  “I’m glad I didn’t grow up to be an old grump like my father did.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes; she admiring the music box, and he gazing at the tea sets in the bookcase that he kept so well polished that the imperfections shone in the light.

“Do you want to know the real reasons behind the tea sets?” he asked suddenly, waking the girl from her short-lived reverie.  “Why I look after them like I do?  You have to promise not to laugh or walk away.”

The little one shrugged, but sidled up to her grandfather’s armchair.  “Okay.  Tell me.”

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“I promise.” Her eyes gazed up at him, wide and trusting.

“It’s because I used to be one myself.”

The girl sat there, eyes wide, lips parted slightly in surprise.  She wanted to ask if it was a joke, but the old man looked completely serious.  And she was just at that age where she was learning to take care of herself, but still young enough to believe in fairy stories, if they were spun the right way.

“How?”

The old man’s lips curled into a real, genuine smile, one that only children would understand.  “Magic.”

“What happened?” the girl’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Well…sit back a little, and I’ll tell you,” the man replied.  “I was your age when this story took place.  It started with a spoiled prince, an old enchantress, and a young farm girl who saved us all…”


“You used to work at the castle?” the girl said after he had finished his tale.

“Well, it was mostly my mother; she was the head housekeeper.  I followed in the steps of my father, became a potter, and when I had your father, I taught him as well.  Hopefully your older siblings will carry on the family business for me.”

“I bet they will.”  The girl slumped in her chair.  But soon she straightened up again.  “Was the queen really an inventor?”

“Best in the world,” he replied.  “She’s the reason why you have a fountain behind your house for laundry.”

“Is the Enchantress still alive?”

“I have no idea. Probably.”

“Were the musicians really world-famous?”

“Of course they were.  Why would they lie?”

“Maybe to gain favor with the prince.”

“No, they’ve been in the paper before.  I have clippings, if you’re really that skeptical.”

“Wow…” For a moment she was lost in her own daydreams of what it would be like living with famous people.  But then another thought stole her mind away.  “Could Plumette really fly? Like a bird?”

“Even after the curse she could float for a while, if she wanted to.”

“And Lumiere?”

“What do you want me to say about him?  The man was an eccentric old codger right up until the day he…”  The man paused for a moment, lost in the past.  “Until he died.”

The girl pondered the word in silence, while the other sat in his armchair, thinking of times and thoughts that his granddaughter would never understand, no matter how much she listened, or how much she learned.  She would never learn to appreciate time as he had, especially now, after all these years.  And he was the last one, the one given the most time to contemplate what had happened.  Everyone else had already passed on.  

Sometimes, they would come to him in his dreams, as young as he remembered them that day: newly human and full of happiness.  Lumiere would ask him how old age was treating him, Chapeau would clap him on the back and comment on his family, his mother would wrap her arms around him and tell him how proud she was of him.  How proud they all were of him.

But Cogsworth always told him the time, how time was running out.  Tick-tock, there’s not much time left.  And though he always asked what Cogsworth meant, the old majordomo never explained himself, only kept repeating the same thing over and over again.  Even now, Cogsworth was still as incessant as a real clock.

And yet…though he had time well-spent…it never seemed like enough.  Well, not until now, as his youngest grandchild sat next to him, visions of magic and curses dancing in her head, the very age he was when the curse was cast.  Filled with the wonder of a story that would die with him.

“I have a special task for you, little one,” he murmured, and the girl’s eyes lit up.

“What is it?” she asked.  “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t forget the story I’ve told you today.  Not a single word of it.  Write it down somewhere, make it a book.  And tell your grandchildren.  And have them tell theirs.”

“All right,” the child said.  “Is it that important?”

“I don’t want anyone to forget them,” he continued.  “They taught me a lesson; I am sure they will teach others too.  You’ve probably been told that nothing lasts forever, haven’t you?”

“That’s right,” she said.  “Mother told me that.”

“Well…this story only happened in a moment, out of all the time in the world.  And when I die, the days I’ve lived will disappear.  But now that I’ve told you, you can tell other people, and those people can tell other people, and the story will last longer than any of us.”

He wasn’t much of a storyteller at this age, but he could do this much for his family.  He didn’t live his whole life just to die without people really knowing what happened all those years ago.  It wasn’t just some curse; lessons were learned, and love was restored to the castle.  

“Okay.  I promise I’ll do it.  And my children will do it too.”  

Chip smiled and closed his eyes.  He could picture them now, in the castle, carrying out their duties, royalty and service alike.  Some would call them ordinary, but to him they were the most important people in the world.  They didn’t deserve to be fleeting.  They deserved to live on.  Through story, through song, through legend.

That’s how a moment lasts forever…when our song lives on.

If you wanna love Comic Negan and TV Show Negan, do it.

If you think the show is ruining him and hate TV show Negan, that’s fine.

If you have never read any of the comics, it’s okay.

And if daddy kink helps you get your rocks off, than by all means, call Negan Daddy.

We all celebrate Negan in our own ways.

Stop policing a fictional character. If you don’t like someone’s portrayal make your own.

Wet

Summary: These pranks are getting pretty out of hand… Enough said.

Pairing: Warren x Reader

Warnings: It might be intense fluff, it might be light smut… Who knows? Swearing, as always.

A/N: Currently super pissed off at tumblr right now. I had like 3 stories I was going to publish today and they all got deleted, so that was fun. If you guys have any alternatives to tumblr drafts could you message me bc I’m legit so lost… 😱 Sorry that this is super late. You guys should request for sure because this writer’s block is killing me. 😭 😭 

Originally posted by snarling-through-our-smiles


“Shit!” You gasped as you felt the icy water soak through your clothes. In an instant, you felt another balloon explode against you, drenching you once more. “What the fuck?”

You wiped the water from your eyes, shivering against the wind. You had just come out of the mansion with Jubilee, heading to the pond for a nice, relaxing lunch with Jean, Scott, and Kurt. Instead, the moment you stepped outside, you were attacked. 

“Nice!” 

You looked up to find Warren and Peter, perched in a tree with a bucket of water balloons. They hi-fived before Warren swooped down and Peter skidded to a stop at your left side with a cool gust of wind. 

Keep reading

Horror Prompts
  • They tell you it was coyotes that ate the neighbor’s dog, but you know the truth. Coyotes don’t come this far into town and the past three weeks have been silent, the howling stopped long before the dog went missing.
  • There are crows outside your window. Your mother had told you about the crows, warned you that they feast on the eyes of prophets. You wonder if they have finally come for you.
  • You come home from work and put your keys on the table, you look around and realize that your furniture has been moved. You can hear someone, or something, rummaging in the kitchen.
  • Towns like these are special, the mechanic tells you, a large smile on her face. Once you’re here, you never want to leave.
  • The church around the corner is following you. The end is near, the sign says. You can hear hymns echoing in your ears.
  • Everything is born from the flames. Do not burn the evidence—it will grow forth thrice fold. You cannot trust fire.
  • There is a swamp witch who lives down the street, your brother dares you to ring her doorbell.
  • You stop by a river on your way to your grandmother’s house. You take off your shoes and stick your feet into the water, something brushes against your skin. When you move to pull yourself out, it digs its nails into your flesh. You open your mouth to scream.
  • There’s an abandoned Walmart three blocks from your house. Sometimes you can hear screaming when you bike past.
  • Sometimes, when it rains, you can hear the red cracked earth of the bush laughing with delight. There is a woman banging on your door, begging to be let in. You do not move, she knew the price of the bush. Whenever you go outside, the rain has washed away her cries.
  • It has not rained in years, the reservoir dried up three days ago. A woman comes to your house, her mouth stained red, and asks for a drink.
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okay so I had this red riding hood AU idea for otayuri in my head since I saw this jacked that I drew for Beka here…. I’m sure someone already did this but I don’t care…. I just had to do this okay?! qwq //sobs

I made some really plain ref sheets here with a few quick fun facts about both under the cut are some Ideas for this AU


the general story… I don’t really have much but this is what I have so far?!  ideas are always welcome btw ;3c

They meet at a convenience store late at night. Yura had to get some groceries for his grandpa (bread and vodka lol) idk why he needs something from the convenience store so late but who cares tbh?! this is an AU live with it lmao and the next store is far away from their home. He meets Beka in the store and, Beka the gentleman he is, offers Yura a ride on his bike home….. thats what I’ve got so far :’3

a bit more info of the big bad wolf called Beka: okay at first he is NOT a werewolf… just wanted to make that clear haha  the first thing you have to know is that he have to transform into a full wolf once a month (no it don’t have to be full moon), if he don’t transform in this time period he unwillingly transforms into his full wolf form and go berserk. (he loses the ability to think clearly and is aggressive af) He can transform into three different forms. First is the human form so he don’t frighten normal humans with his presence and can peaceful live among them. This form is still stronger than an average Human tho. Second is half wolf as you can see in the ref. I had an idea for this form but its too complex so I won’t use it (I’m too lazy to write that down okay?! don’t judge me) and the last form is full wolf I just can say that this is his original form it’s the strongest and he is taller than a normal wolf. 

to yura I just can say: he’s…. yura… the brat we all love and adore haha no for real he wears red a lot, more than canon yura, he’s a student or maybe he’s still an figure skater… I didn’t really decided what he is doing for a living also for now it isn’t really important for the AU?!


sorry there are like 100 grammar mistakes… English isn’t my first language :’D

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“Above all else, every human dies at some point. That’s why life is even more beautiful. That’s why the first thought I had once I got my memory back was to live each day as if it were my last. If today is my last day, this will be my final memory of the person I love. So I’d better live hard and love. That’s what I told myself.”

tvN Goblin – END

  • Namjoon: *walks into the kitchen*
  • Jungkook: so do you want a cock sucking cowboy, sex on my face, anus burner, leg spreader, or ass?
  • Namjoon: *shakes his head in shame* be a leader they said, live in the dorms they said...
  • Jungkook: No hyung, they're just drink names! I was gonna make Jimin hyung a drink!
  • Jimin: that's not what you said last night ;)
Other ways TRR could have ended
  • rmb that diamond scene where that reporter noticed that the Beaumont family is poor? Maybe that could have reached the news (especially since i did not buy that scene) making the Beaumont family too controversial for Liam to pick without the queen trynna interject or something
  • Or maybe that money scene (that i also did not buy) comes back to haunt us? Maybe the brothers Beaumont are shady af (like drugs or something lol) and that reaches the news, and maybe cliff hanger then so that Liam isnt picking the snake in the green dress
  • Savannah comes back and calls the Prince her baby daddy
  • Maybe the traitor should have been revealed & cliff hanger on that  (looks like the queen was in on it tbh)
  • The prince picks MC, and they live happily ever after
  • The prince picks MC, who slips out the backdoor before anyone notices and runs away with Hana or Drake
  • The horse finally runs MC over and kills her
One of the main reasons this blog exists, and why I've gone so far in outting myself is simply because i am attempting to break drug user stereotypes and help people feel more comfortable with their lives. I never expected for this blog to become so popular worldwide, but now that you all have chosen to make it so, i just want you all to know I'm thankful to every fuckin one of you for supporting my crazy ass and i sincerely hope that my unorthodox methods are actually helping some of you besides just providing you with entertainment or someone to fantasize about or make fun of. We live in a fucked up judgemental society and it sucks,but you know what? idgaf about anyone's judgements towards me and never have and this blog is proof and I'm hoping that by putting my life on display like this inspires some of you to live the kind of life that YOU want without giving a shit what anyone thinks too. Im not doing this for praise or anything like that, tbh i only started the original methed up samurai blog as a place to dump my drug pics, but then i saw an opportunity to use this blog to fulfill a need that i see in society. So if you are thankful to me, please, show me your gratitude by freeing yourself from worrying about the opinions of others and start living in a way that's true to yourselves the same way Ive been incriminating the fuck outta myself here to show you that i have been. As long as you ain't hurting anyone and no matter how different or bizarre you might think it is. That is the best way you can EVER repay me.

Originally posted by methed-up-samurai-is-a-ghost

| DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL |

Dark Night of the Soul (feat. David Lynch) - Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse | Parallel Corners - The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble | Nightmare - Artie Shaw | Harlem Nocturne - The Viscounts | Black Coffee - Peggy Lee | Adaptation of the Koto Song - The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble | L.A. Noire Main Theme - Andrew Hale | Taxi Driver Theme - Bernard Herrmann | Au Bar Du Petit Bac - Miles Davis | M Squad Theme - Countie Basie | Naked City - Raymond Scott | In a Sentimental Mood - Duke Ellington & John Coltrane | So What - Miles Davis | (I Always Kill) The Things I Love - The Real Tuesday Weld feat. Claudia Bruken | Torched Song - The Real Tuesday Weld feat. Claudia Bruken | Minor 9th - Andrew Hale | Red Dawn - Black Chamber | Sophisticated Lady - Duke Ellington | Jeep’s Blues - Duke Ellington | Teleology - Black Chamber | Put the Blame on Mame - Anita Kert Ellis

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I reached a follower milestone not too long ago, so here’s a chibi crew thanking you guys!

Thank you! o(*^▽^*)o

lee daehwi as your soulmate

imagine having daehwi as ur soulmate where u have the date u meet written on ur wrist

(as requested!)

  • ur soulmate clue isnt really visible for awhile just bc ure like. a tiny kid for the first majority of ur life lol
  • for awhile u just have a smudge of ink on ur wrist so,,, u dont rlly have a choice but to let it be
  • ANYWAYS
  • once u start to get older, the markings on ur wrist start to become more and more clear

Keep reading

Corey La Barrie as a boyfriend would be like:

- mOCKING HIM CONSTANTLY

- “I cant understand Australian sorry.” “Shut the fuck up.”

- Him always taking off-guard pics of you

- “Booty’s looking good today.” 

- The fucking “You up?” texts even tho u live in the same house/neighborhood

- Him constantly commenting on your instas and being like, “Thats my babyyyyy”

- Always being pranked by him 

- tbh I’d love to see what Corey’s like when he’s genuinely sleepy and wanting some cuddles

- Wearing his clothes a lot

- Constant comments on ur ass tbh

- Legit you, him, and Kian would become the three musketeers 

- “I fucking love you.” “I love you more.”

- tbh stop me if this is weird but I can imagine him being lowkey into leaving hickeys but like, on weird places like ur hip of some shit

anonymous asked:

So given your tags on that photo post is Alfredo going to show up in your writing now? (please say yes i love new boy)

The Fake’s have a shiny new sharpshooter and no one is safe. The LSPD find out about him in the worst possible way, a hailstorm of coverfire from an angle no known member of the FAHC could have managed. Even without the unprecedented display of skill just about every active crew-member is running around on ground level anyway, moving with the utmost faith in their unseen sentry as they sweep down the road. They’re calling out to one another, laughing and joking and audibly teasing their eyes in the sky, as distressingly jovial as always while officers are forced to duck for cover. The sniper is good, better than good, clips three cops in mere moments and leaves the rest scrambling to retreat, all the while avoiding the erratic movements of the crew as they breeze all too easily through their escape. This is bad.

Unseen and unnamed the LSPD have just about nothing to go on when they try to build a file on the new member, don’t even have a name let alone a description beyond a blurry silhouette photographed in a window before the sniper disappeared. There’s some chatter in the city, new guy’s skills are already making waves, but even the police informants don’t have much to go on yet. Apparently he was a gun for hire, a contract the Fake AH Crew decided to keep on indefinitely after they saw him work. People say when he gets his sights on someone they go down, no question. So the LSPD are probably right to worry, probably justified in their harried rush to build a file, though the temporary label they’ve adopted in lieu of an official title is questionable at best. It originated from one officer’s account, the dubious memory of what must have been a misheard comment, a mangled codename, but for now The Sauce is the closest thing they’ve got.

anonymous asked:

Am I the only one that's more excited for Donald in The lion king than for Beyoncé?? I mean, she's great and all, but Donald is Simba!!! He is perfect for the role and he is a great singer! And he really deserves the attention that will come from a movie as big as this

Uh…what? I was out of town this weekend and wasn’t online much. I completely missed the news about the live-action Lion King!

I’m pretty excited about this whole cast, tbh. There are a lot of great actors up there. And Jon Favreau will be directing, which is good news too.

Thanks for bringing this to my attention, friend! :)