the life and times of tiffany

Weights & Measures Pt 1 [M]

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 5k+

Triggers: swearing, drinking, sex

A/N: This fic is inspired by the song Weights and Measures by Dry the River. It’s v depressing so be warned if you decided to listen to it. 

Originally posted by ew-jiminnie

“I was prepared to love you and never expect anything of you
And there’s no patron saint of silent restraint
Baby there ain’t no sword in our lake
Just a funeral wake”

-Dry the River

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

Two Years Before

Your boss had been riding your ass for months, but when he walked into your office and demanded you get some sleep you weren’t about to argue with him. Scrambling, you packed up your desk for the day and ran out the door for the night. You didn’t to take the risk that this was all a big joke and you were the butt of it.  You can’t remember the last time you were home before dark and the cool early evening breeze felt like a welcome home present.

It had been a few weeks since you and Jinyoung, your fiance, had been able to actually sit and eat a meal together. He used to always leave a plate for you in the fridge and a sweet note telling you that he loved you, but that had changed in the past few months. You were now used to coming home to a dark apartment. Jinyoung would already be fast asleep when you padded into the bedroom. Most of your meals consisted of microwaved dinners or rice. After Jinyoung stormed into the kitchen one night while you were cooking yourself dinner, you didn’t want to risk another fight.

Stopping by his favorite noodle shop, you hoped that tonight you would be able to close the ever growing distance between the two of you. It had been months since the last time you had sex. It’s not like you didn’t try, but any time you would initiate it, he would shut you down, saying he was too tired or that he wasn’t in the mood. You missed the way he would say your name and look at you like you were the most beautiful creature on the planet. But every time he looked at you now, it was like he was looking at nothing. The light had gone from his eyes, and you wanted it back so badly.

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Little Blue Box - Extended Imagine

{Based on this Imagine}

“Find something you like?” Your heart nearly stops as you look up to see him looking you straight in the eyes. 

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Undeniable Heat Chapter 21: Questions

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1350 Words

Story Summary: You’ve just gotten a job as one of the makeup artists on the set of Supernatural. Nervous on the first day, you become completely awkward, winning the affection of the divorced Jensen Ackles. You try to fight your desire for him, but he thwarts you at every turn. Will you be able you separate work and play, or will you let Jensen win?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

You felt fuzzy. As if you had downed a full bottle of whiskey, or taken a handful of sleeping pills. Your mouth seemed full of cotton, and your head pounded. All of this was easy to take stock of in the first ten seconds since you had woken, especially the confining feeling around your middle. Trying to wrack your brain for what had happened, it came back to you in a rush. Brad had showed up, attacking you when you hadn’t followed through with his plans. You vaguely remembered Jensen showing up, then nothing else.

You could hear the beeping of machines, and the quiet murmuring of people in the room with you. Your body felt tired, and weak, but you worked hard to open your eyes. You needed to see who was in the room with you. At first all you accomplished was a fluttering, the effort almost more than you could handle. Finally, after what seemed like forever, you were staring at the stark white hospital ceiling. Trying to take a deep breath, you gasped at the sharp pain, wanting to cry as it radiated through you.

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Summary: You’re Dean and Sam’s little sister, after Dean escapes purgatory he finds that Sam and his little sister are not longer together until one day they get a call.

A/N: Hello! This my first story here on tumblr so I’m really anxious to post this! There’s probably spelling mistakes so my apologies and the crappy title. I plan on writing more so some feedback is great. The end is a little rushed but I hope it isn’t too bad!

Warnings: Some language and violence.

Word Count: 2,446

Flashbacks are in italics

Sam waited anxiously outside of the cabin’s door. His palms were sweaty and his knees felt weak. What was he going to tell Dean that him and Y/N were no longer together? That he let their baby sister go off on her own in this cruel world. Sam took one final breath before entering the cabin. Within a split second Sam felt his head hit the floor then sprayed with Holy Water and…borax.
“Dean! I’m not a demon or leviathan!” But with that statement didn’t stop his brother from taking Sam’s hand and slicing it. “Or a shapeshifter.” Sam sighed and sat up but was taken aback when Dean started to do all three things to himself. The  brothers stared at each other, smiled and embraced each other in a tight hug. The hug was long lasted when Dean noticed a certain somebody wasn’t there. Dean let go of Sam and took a double take of the room.
“Sammy. Where’s Y/N?”
Sam’s jaw clenched. “Well…Y/N and I, we went our own ways.”
“What do you mean you went your own ways?” Dean let out a sarcastic chuckle. “She’s 17 years old Sam! Do you really think it’s a smart idea to let her off? By herself?!”
“Dean, things weren’t exactly easy once you had disappeared!”
“What happened Sam? Have you even tried to look for her or even text her?”
“Of course I did Dean! I called and called and was always sent to voicemail. She was smart enough to turn off her GPS on her phone. ” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. “She wanted to hunt but I wanted to settle down. I hit a dog an-”
“You hit a dog and you two go your separate ways?” Dean snapped.
“Let me finish! I wanted to settle down, there was this girl and Y/N still wanted to hunt. I followed through on a few cases she may have been at but the trail has been dead for a month or two. We had an argument and she just vanished in the night.”
Dean sat down on the couch, throwing his head back. His mind was racing with a million thoughts. The trail was dead that could only lead to two things, either you were dead or, you had given up hunting. “We’re finding her. Let’s go.” Dean glared at Sam, grabbing the keys to the Impala off the end table.


“Y/N!” Tiffany yelled. “Jeez girl, you walk so damn fast I can hardly keep up!”
Y/N smiled at her friend. “Sorry Tiff, I just want to go home.”
“Go home? Uh hello! The homecoming football game is tonight and you’re coming! I can come over to your place and we can get ready then!”
“N-No! Not my place..” you said almost too quickly for Tiffany’s liking. Truth is you didn’t even have a house, you lived in a motel room and earned her keep by working the receptionist table. “I’ll just meet you at yours sometime later, okay?”
“Right..and try to dress cute or something instead of those flannels. Eric is coming over with Mark, and we all know who has a crush on you.” Tiffany winked and walked to her car.
You sighed and shook your head. Honestly, you would rather just stay at home all night, scarf down a cheeseburger and sleep. You walked towards the motel, which she was lucky enough for a short walk from the school. “I don’t have anything else to wear but flannels..” You talked to herself kicking a rock in front of her, “I have t shirts to wear under and I only have these pair of black converse..” You rambled on as she unlocked the door to her motel room after that she threw her backpack down. You jumped on your bed, pulling out your phone. Just then Y'Ns  world came crashing down, Dean’s contact name plastered on the phone screen. Your heart dropped to her stomach and you instantly felt sick. 5 new text messages and a voicemail. You threw down her phone and jumped off her bed. Yeah, you were definitely going to need go out tonight.


You threw down the keys to the Impala, glaring at your brother Sam. “What the hell do you mean you want to give up hunting?!” You glared at Sam.
“Y/N, c'mon, we all wanted out of this life and with Dean gone it isn’t the same as it once was.” The last thing Sam wanted was for you to be upset or angry at him, with Dean not being around he saw how stubborn and hurt you were and Sam knew how much you missed Dean.
“If Dean was here he would be punching you in the face and talking some sense into you. Sam it’s not like we can leave this life y'know.”
“Y/N, I know that. It’s just we have a chance here. I can work and you can go back to school.”
“No, WE don’t have a chance! YOU do! Not me, I don’t want to go back to school. You just want to stop because of that stupid vet girl you met, is that it Sam?’ You crossed your arms, staring daggers into Sam.
"It’s not all of that. You’re still young and you have a chance here Y/N. Won’t you please think about it?’ Sam pleaded.
"Yeah, whatever, I’ll think about it.” And with that you slammed the bathroom door.
The next morning Sam woke up, you were gone without a trace left and Sam knew you had thought about it.


You knocked on Tiffany’s door shifting yourself on one foot to another. You had decided to go with a gray t shirt which was well fitted around your curves with a red flannel tied around your waist with your best looking skinny jeans, and by best you meant they only had one hole in them. You had even decided to put on some mascara. Finally what felt after eternity Eric opened the door, smiling when he saw you. Even everyone around the school knew that Eric has the biggest crush on Y/N.

“Hey Y/N. We were just ready head out, here I’ll walk you to my car. Tiff should be out in a second.”

You nodded and politely smiled at Eric. Sure he was cute but, you knew if you got close tragedy would happen, just like everything else in your life. Just on cue Tiffany and Mark came out.

“Wow look at you Y/N. You actually look somewhat decent for once.” Tiffany smirked which earned a small chuckle from Mark.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah whatever, let’s go.” And with that the four of you got into Eric’s car and headed towards the school.

You had lost track of time by gazing out the window and thinking about Dean. How did he even come back? Was he okay? Was it really even Dean or some sick prank. No, that wouldn’t make sense, it was his number. Maybe it was just Sam. You were at constant war with yourself by thinking of ideas. You were snapped out of thoughts when Eric’s voice broke the silence in the car. “Guys my brakes aren’t working..” He said, applying more pressure to the brake. Instant fear took over your body. You knew what this could be.

“Okay try and slow down.” You turned your body to him.

“I don’t think he should do that.” Mark said and then laughed.

“Uh Mark, what’s wrong with your eyes.” Tiffany tried to back away from Mark in her seat.

You snapped your head around to see the eyes of a demon staring back at you. “Why hello Y/N.” The demon smirked before taking off a knife and slitting Eric’s neck. You and Tiffany screamed at the sight, you knew this day would come but not quick and not now. The car swerved out of control and slammed into a tree, causing you to blackout.

You came to your senses when you heard Tiffany scream and the demon standing over her.

“NO!” You screamed when the demon bent down and snapped her neck. You tried to lift yourself up but, couldn’t, a good chance your shoulder was dislocated. “Come on love, time to go.” The demon smirked before knocking you out and throwing you over his shoulder.


Dean leaned back on the couch, popping the cap to his beer bottle open. The brothers were sitting in the cabin, watching an old ‘50’s show on the TV. Dean’s phone started to vibrate on the table, an  unknown number appearing on it. “Who is that?” Sam watched Dean picked up the phone and put it on speaker.

“Hello?’ Dean said, turning the phone to the speaker was up.

"S-S-Sam…Dean..I-I-I need y-your help…come quick…” Your beaten down voice echoed through the phone.

Dean’s eyes widened when he heard you voice. “Y/N! Where are you what’s wrong!?”

“He killed all my friends Dean…They’re dead…I-I don’t kn-.”

“Ah ah! Isn’t the littlest Winchester something else eh? With her beautiful looks and her charming personality! Who wouldn’t want a piece of that?” The demon’s voice came through the phone with a slight chuckle. “Turned on her GPS, better come find her before I get all my way with her~.” Then the demon hung up.

Sam and Dean looked at each other before getting up off the couch and running out the door.

“Sam! Where is it? Where is he holding her!” Dean started the Impala before slamming on the gas.

“Somewhere in Nashville, Tennessee. I-uh, the address isn’t appearing but on google maps it appears to be an old abandoned warehouse.” Sam said, his heart beating a mile a minute. His baby sister was in danger, being attacked by a demon.  What if you were barely living?  "Dean, can’t you drive any faster?“ Dean knew Sam was anxious but, he glared at him. "I’m trying Sammy!”

Finally from what seemed like forever the brothers stopped at the building and quickly scrambled out. “Wait Sammy, what if there’s more than one?” Dean grabbed his brothers arm.

“Dean, whatever is happening to her! It’s my fault! Let’s go!” Sam shook off his brothers arm and slammed open the warehouse doors. There you were sitting, tied a chair, head hanged low. “Y/N!” Sam screamed, running up in front of you before getting hit in the back of his head.  "Sammy!“ Dean’s eyes widened once he saw his two siblings unconscious, his heart pummeling. "Ah the eldest Winchester, let’s make this easy shall we.” The demon appeared, holding up your head with a knife to your neck, “Come on in and sit.” The demon smirked. Dean sat down in the chair, never loosing eye contact with the demon. The demon dropped your head once Dean sat down. Your unconscious form almost looked lifeless. Sam groaned, holding his head. “Ah! Winchester number 2 is finally awake. Sit down Sam, we can do this peacefully.”

Sam turned and looked at Dean, who slowly nodded for Sam to listen to the demon. Sam sighed and plopped down on the chair beside Dean.  "You know, this little one is a fighter. She can put up quite a fight and stays pretty loyal to her brothers, unwilling to give up your location, anything to keep her dear brothers safe.“ He laughed.

"What did you do to her?” Dean barked, anger boiled up in his stomach.

“Oh just the classic torture. Some cuts and bruises. Oh! Did her a good favor by popping her shoulder back into place! Just as new!” He smirked and turned to you once a groan came out of your body. You lifted up your head and your eyes widened once you saw Sam and Dean. You were speechless at the sight of Dean, your big brother was really there. A tear streamed down your face, “Dean..I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know what to do. I wanted to see you.” You started sobbing. “Y-you shouldn’t have came he’s planning on killing you two.” Your eyes glistened. The demon smirked once again. “Aw Y/N! Spoiling my big plans! Now shall we start the fun?” The demon threw Sam and Dean against the wall, holding them up against it. “Shall we work youngest to oldest.” The demon walked over to Y/N, running his hand through her hair.

“Wait! I’ll make a deal with you! Take me!” Sam yelled, “I’ll do anything! Don’t hurt her!” The demon laughed. “I’ll pass upon that one. Why not take all three Winchester’s out at a time?” He craned his head to look at the brothers. “Hell, I’ll be famous.”

“N-Not famous enough.” You said, getting up out of the chair. You moved your knife up, taking a swing at the demon but he moved, faster taking the knife out of your hand and twisted your arm, a loud snapping sound following after. You screamed in pain but refused to give up. Your brothers were there, you needed them safe. It was the least you could do for them.

“Y/N! NO!” Dean yelled once the demon was over you and then it all happened to fast, the brothers worst nightmare coming true. It was one clean stab and there you were, lying there with the blood seeping out of your wound. “NO!” Dean yelled, struggling to get free from the grip.

The demon turned and faced the brothers, “Well one down, two to go.” He chuckled.

You laid there, feeling the blood slowly seep out your body. You weren’t hit in a vital spot but, you had to lay there, try at least. Try to lay lifeless. You heard the demon step away from your body and move to your brothers. Once you knew you stood up and got behind the demon before plunging the blade you kept hidden in your belt, in it’s body. The electricity crackled and Sam and Dean fell off the way. You fell with the demon’s body, feeling the amount of your energy deplete. Your brothers ran over to you, feeling Dean pick you up. “Don’t you ever leave us again! Don’t you ever!” He yelled but then softened up, stroking your hair. “I’m so sorry baby girl. I am..” Dean smiled down at you.

“Dean, I-I’m fine. Just a little w-w-wounded.” You looked up at your brother. “I’ve missed you Dean-o.” You turned your head to Sam, “And I’ve missed you too. I am so sorry for everything. I was selfish a-and I love you guys.” You smiled.

“Quit talking squirt, we’re going to get you all patched up and we can talk about this.” Sam kissed your forehead.

You smiled in Dean’s arm. “I’m never leaving you guys again.”

Creepypasta #1123: Pac Man Fever

Length: Medium

This happened in 1995, but I still remember it clearly. I was 24 years old, hard at work on a novel about love and loss and redemption, and working third shift at a convenience store just off the college campus to make ends meet. My manager, Todd, was a dick; my girlfriend, Sage, was probably cheating on me; and the stray cat I’d taken in, Kurtd, liked to crawl into my closet and piss on my Doc Martens.

The night I’m talking about here was in October, and it was chilly and clear and I remember the moon was big. If we’d had text messaging back then I’d have texted Sage something poetic about a big orange moon (something about ‘kurious oranj’ because you couldn’t go wrong making a Mark E Smith reference) but back then we just kept that shit to ourselves and everybody was just as happy. I’d covered up my uniform shirt with my old reliable blue and orange flannel shirt, the way I did every night, and Todd the Dickhead would have thrown a shit fit if he’d seen it.

When this all went down I was actually feeling pretty good about myself, because I’d just made a little coin on a shady deal. It was a Friday night and a party at the Sig Chi house had run out of booze. So around 2 in the morning, a couple of Sig Chi bros came in and tried to buy a 30 pack.

We were absolutely not supposed to sell beer after 1 AM, I said. It would be a real risk for me to take, I emphasized. I cleared my throat. Looked around and pointedly saw nobody in the store. “A real risk, dudes, a real risk,” I added. 

Two of the three guys turned around to leave. The third guy, a handsome fellow wearing beer stained Abercrombie khakis and a violent green polo with a little alligator emblem on it, said in a low, raspy whisper, “And what would a risk like that be worth to you?”

So ten minutes later I was at the back entrance, out of camera range, handing them a 30 pack of Natty Lite and counting my money. I walked back into the store and saw a dude standing there playing our Pac-Man game.

Now what you may or may not know is that 80′s nostalgia among college kids goes back to, well, the 80′s. By the mid 90′s, 80′s nostalgia was in full fabulous swing and every bar on or near campus had an 80′s night or two every month, and every frat house and off-campus frat apartment had several 80′s parties every semester. The owner of the convenience store where I worked, a big Falstaffian goofball named Peter, partly as a nod to the college kids and partly because he was a lovable dork himself, bought and refurbished an old Pac-Man arcade game and set it up in the corner near the entrance.

Now the kid who’d come in to play it while I was hornswoggling the frat boys out back looked like he’d just come from the ultimate nostalgia splooge-fest. Dude could have just stumbled in from the big Shermer High School Winter Wonderland Carnival. He was wearing a clean, crisp jean jacket with the word Disappearer airbrushed in neon pink and green letters on the back. He had big spiky blond Club Kid hair. This guy was skinny–we’re talking “Lives on vodka tonics and Bolivian Marching Powder” skinny–and had the sleeves of his jean jacket pushed up to reveal jelly bracelets up and down his right arm. White Guess jeans were stretched tight across a round, muscular ass that I’m sure Sage would have gone wild for, and the jeans were rolled up to show he wore his white Gucci loafers sockless.

This boy, The Disappearer, was really into his Pac Man too. He was bobbing his head and swaying his hips and gobbling up ghosts. It was pretty fun to watch at first. Almost on cue, the local radio station started playing Duran Duran’s “Girls on Film” and I jokingly said, “Hey dude, did you call in a request?”

No response. Not a talker. Fine with me! I sat my ass down on some egg crates I kept behind the counter (Todd kvetched about it but fuck him) and started scribbling in my notebook. This time of night I didn’t do much cleaning and there weren’t many customers, so if he wanted to stand there and feed quarters into an old arcade game that was fine by me.

Except I was actually kind of cranky he hadn’t answered me. Who did this shit think he was? Just because I work in a convenience store he thinks he can just blow me off? A Depeche Mode song came on the radio, Strangelove, and in addition to giving the game some body English I noticed he was kind of shaking his ass to the song. I decided to try being friendly again. 

“Must be 80′s night somewhere around here, huh?”

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Netflix has announced season 5 of Arrested Development will premiere in 2018:

The Bluths are back. Again!!! Netflix today announced series creator Mitchell Hurwitz and the entire series regular cast, including: Jason Bateman, Michael Cera, Jeffrey Tambor, Jessica Walter, Will Arnett, Tony Hale, Portia de Rossi, David Cross and Alia Shawkat will return for a fifth season to premiere exclusively for Netflix members worldwide in 2018.

“In talks with Netflix we all felt that stories about a narcissistic, erratically behaving family in the building business – and their desperate abuses of power – are really underrepresented on TV these days,” said series creator Mitchell Hurwitz. He added, “I am so grateful to them and to 20th TV for making this dream of mine come true in bringing  the Bluths, George Sr., Lucille and the kids;  Michael, Ivanka, Don Jr., Eric, George-Michael, and who am I forgetting, oh Tiffany.  Did I say Tiffany? — back to the glorious stream of life.”    

“Arrested Development brings us structures, outerwear and choreography like no other comedy in history,” mused Netflix chief content officer Ted Sarandos, leafing through photos of the banana stand, never nudes and Chicken Dances. “Season Four marked the first foray by Netflix into original comedy programming and this time, the Bluths will collectively be spending more quality time with their millions of fans around the world”

"Arrested Development remains one of the iconic franchises we, Ron and Brian are asked about most,” commented Fox Television Group Chairmen and CEOs Dana Walden and Gary Newman. “It’s a testament to the brilliance of Mitch’s creation, the passion of his audience, and the love his cast holds in their hearts for his writing and characters that we have been able to ‘get the band back together ’ not once but twice since the Emmy-winning original run. Get ready, America. The Bluths are coming back.”

“I love working with Mitch. He is a genius and the rarest of original thinkers. He brings a richness to the characters and the storylines that makes the series memorably fun,” said executive producer Brian Grazer.

“Whew! I can finally answer the question… Hell yes! Warming up my uncredited narrator vocal chords. Now the only thing I will have to be coy about is all the craziness the Bluths are going to face this season,” said executive producer Ron Howard.

Arrested Development centers around Michael Bluth (Jason Bateman) and his eccentric family comprised of his son George Michael (Michael Cera), his father George Bluth Sr. (Jeffrey Tambor), his mother Lucille (Jessica Walter), his brothers George Oscar Bluth II (Will Arnett), Buster Bluth (Tony Hale) and sister Lindsay Funke (Portia de Rossi), and Lindsay’s husband Tobias (David Cross) and their daughter Maeby (Alia Shawkat).

Mitchell Hurwitz, Brian Grazer, Ron Howard, Jim Vallely and Richie Rosenstock are executive producers on Arrested Development, and it is produced by Imagine TV and 20th Century Fox Television for Netflix. Arrested Development has garnered accolades from the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences (Emmy®), AFI, the Golden Globes, Producer’s Guild Awards, Screen Actor’s Guild, the Television Critics Association and the Writer’s Guild, among others.

Just venting more abt the disconnect between what terfs think being trans is like and what its actually like:

“Bullying/assault based on effeminate behavior is just redirected homophobia!!!”

Ok then why did the boys (and girls) harassing and sometimes assaulting me throughout school make especial note/observation about the fact that I “acted/walked/etc like a girl”?

“You faced bullying as a GNC male sweaty : ))) transphobia isnt real. i know that, as a gay cis women. haha reblog, syster, i felt that burn from here : ) )”

The key bit there is “gender non-conforming”. Almost like….. Being bullied for rejecting the gender assigned to me….. Almost like…. Being rejected for behaving/existing in a way that contradicts gender. If only it had a better name. One that actually described it…. Like…. Transphobia.

“But we’re trying to abolish gender! We’re actually working FOR your goals as well, you just don’t know it!! If only you stupid genderist mogais actually had critical thinking haha!! well once we abolish gender by making snarky thinkpiece articles about not shaving our legs, and shooting down other marginalized people trying to tell us about their experiences by constantly referencing some of THE most oppressed people in the world (ie, women forced into sex-trafficking or who have experienced genital mutilation), while doing absolutely shit all to help them at the same time, and only actually bringing them UP in the first place in order to downplay the marginalization and oppression of transwomen, particularly nonwhite, non-American, poor trans women, you’ll have to thank us!! Because you’ll be free of gender haha!”

Oh boy that’s great. Except it solves absolutely none of my issues whatsofucking ever because even the completely hypothetical and largely unrealistic concept of “abolishing gender” does shit all about the massive amount of bodily/sex/sex-trait dysphoria I suffer and have suffered from since, uh, like, 4. Same for every other dysphoric trans person, which is, uh, most of us.

“I’m so sorry the medical system is capitalizing off of your dysphoria like this. If only there were… Other solutions available.”

You’re right. I am being capitalized off, as is pretty much fucking everyone else on this hellish shitplanet. Are you going to take on and abolish the privatization of the medical system or maybe capitalism itself, too, or is this just another “I’m bringing this up so I can look smart and fit as many critiques of society into my praxis as possible while arguing with people, without actually EVER bringing them up on their own outside of the context of using them as conversational tools to make myself look good” things? Seems like the latter, but, y'know, what does a dumb genderist know?

By the by, what are those other options? Are you going to try to talk me out of my dysphoria? Because I tried doing that for the first 17 years of my life, and it kinda just made everything worse and sorta fucked me up/delayed my development as a human being.

When that doesn’t work, what are you going to do? Are you, perchance, maybe, just going to go full-circle with your hypocritical bullshit and start giving conversion-therapy to dysphoric trans kids to try to brainwash it out of us? Maybe I’m reaching here, but “other options” sounds a tiny bit sinister to a deeply dysphoric gal who’s dysphoria is rooted heavily in her own body and not some bullshit societal standards, like y'all seem to always think.

“Always arguing and trying to force your opinions on womyn/lesbians. What typical male behavior. Male socialization is never, ever admitting you’re wrong in an argument while women are forced to walk away frustrated.”

Oh, you mean like how you constantly hardline when your ideology is challenged, purposefully and spitefully misgender any trans women who has the godawful, stubborn gall to disagree with you, and keeping bringing up and rebranding the same tired, twisted bullshit to justify your transphobia even after it’s disproven, over and over again? Like that? God I’m sorry wanting basic respect/the correct pronouns is so horrible and aggressive of me. Wanting Terfs to stop running off at the mouth about issues surrounding trans women they have no knowledge or understanding of is just,,,, god, guys, I guess they beat me. The terfs one. We can all go home now folks.

“Well, regardless, womyn are still oppressed for their biology/reproductive role in a way that a dumb male tranny male like you could just,,, never understand.”

OH, you mean like reproductive organs? Like, uh, the uterus, or maybe the ovaries and endometrial system? The kinda ovaries I have? The kind of ovaries I possess inside of my stupid fleshbody as an intersex trans women? THOSE ovaries? I want to outright make a reference to the “the poison for Kusko” line here but this is dragging on long enough.

“Ok!! But!! Unlike crippled sex slaves from X third-world country I just now googled to have a leg up in this argument, you were never OPPRESSED for having those organs so uhm, checkmate. Also, I guess now I’m going to have to carefully avoid gendered terms when referring to you and address you in tones of thinly veiled pity because regarding you, an intersex person, as anything other than a negative exception, an aberration, and a mistake of nature would compromise my hard-line position of sex being a rigid, immutable, unchanging, and entirely binarized system where everyone has one exact experience in life or another!! It’s gonna get, like! Really bad! To the point where I’m being an ableist piece of shit and basically insinuating you have less worth as a human being than most other people, because you lack a reproductive role!! Haha. Its not hypocritical of me at all though just so you know!”

Well, Tiffany Rose Anne Terf Bangs, I guess you aren’t experiencing too much maiming or oppression yourself, right now, if you have time and inclination to be an asshole on a blogging website.

“How DARE you make light of-”

Hold up. Freeze-frame. I’m arguing more, like the evil, violent male I am.

How come, uh? How come, whenever you bring up the plight of abused/circumcised/sex-trafficked, non-white women? How come it is that you almost ALWAYS bring them up EXCLUSIVELY in the context of using them as a source of leverage in petty discourse with “genderists” on tumblr? I see maybe, like 1 post freely and independently discussing the plight of non-white, non-western, heavily-oppressed women for every 8 I see using them as a rhetorical tool to outdo trans women trying to tell you that we, y'know, oftentimes get shit on too.

That’s just kind of funny to me. Kind of odd.

Mind you, I don’t pretend to be some incredibly intelligent, educated, massively intersectional feminist praxis godhead. I’m white as hell and first-world and most of the time, just far enough above the poverty line to pay for the essentials.

I have privileges many people don’t.

But at least I have the common DECENCY to let my arguments stand or fall on their own legs.

At least I just make my own fucking points without dragging in marginalized groups I otherwise demonstrate that I give absolutely no shits about in order to one-up other people.

At least I don’t hide my spite for “genderists”, particularly camab women, behind really thin veils of feminism I really only preach when it’s convenient to tearing those same fucking people down.

I’ve got my privileges and I mostly only focus on my own issues, or issues relevant to people like me in areas where I can reach, because that’s about all my pathetic, poor, mentally ill ass can handle, but at least I don’t fucking pretend to care about suffering people when it’s really, really, really obvious I only see them as a discourse foot-stool to stand a little taller and look a little better on.

If you actually gave a SHIT about the people you’re bringing up, I sort of doubt you’d have a blog devoted to whinging about trans people on Tumblr. You might, at the very least, have a blog devoted to actually discussing those peoples’ issues and ways to help them, and invest your time there instead.

But what the hell do I know?

Not much, probably. I don’t pretend like my praxis and beliefs are the end-be-all, unlike some.

There’s a lot more I want to shriek and shake tree branches and rant and run in circles about, but I think this individual post is big enough, and I need to sleep.


“I started having this dream after being part of the entertainment industry. I felt more free and independent, I thought about many things, about how I’m turning 30 soon and it’s time to grow up….If I were still a group member, I would not have been able to achieve what I have today. I would be lying if I said it hasn’t been hard but I’ve learned to manage better as time goes….I am a very focused person and I pay 100% attention to whenever I am doing something. …I have an on/off switch, I can switch my mindset and psyche around very quickly….I became a singer and started a business because I have a passion for them, so it never crossed my mind to give up either of them. I felt so guilty towards her at that time.  Being the elderly sister, I should have shown the strong and reliable side of me…I wasn’t a good role model. There are no secrets between us, we’re like family…Honestly, it’s hard to find someone whom you can trust…in the entertainment industry….Having a sister in the same industry…is a blessing. I feel like I’ve grown a fair bit from juggling so many roles. I’ve gained more wisdom as the years go in life…” - Jessica Jung

Love Affair Part 9

Beginning Love Affair Part 1

Warning: Cussing. Smut, smut, and…more smut

Love Affair Part 9

Chapter 17

It’s been fifteen days now. Fifteen days of this stupid godforsaken couples therapy. A therapy I’m for to go to all because Danny wants to save our marriage. I don’t know why he’s even doing it. It’s not like he’s in love with me or even close to loving me. Hell, he’s been messing around with some girl name Tiffany.

Sometimes I think it’s because he’s worry I’ll make him pay alimony. I already told him if he’s worry I’m going to take his money or anything of his, it won’t happened. I just want him to sign the papers so I can move on with my life. But he insistence that money isn’t the case. He wants to save what we have. Every time he says that I throw up in my mouth a bit.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” Therapist said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Don’t you have anything you want to add?”

“Yeah, this is bullshit and I’ll like to go home now.” I said, so bluntly. I swear, Negan is rubbing off of him with his zero fucks given attitude. The therapist and Danny both let out a sigh. “Look, I know I’m suppose to express my feelings and say what’s been bothering me. But I already told you everything about my feelings and what’s bothering me. And none of this talking is going to change my mind. And nothing you or Danny says is going to change my mind. I want a divorce, plain and simple.”

“Like always.” Danny said, looking away from me as he shook his head. “I’m the only one trying to make things work between us.”

“Seriously?” I said, looking over at him as he looked at me. “Were you trying to make it work when you were sticking your dick into someone that wasn’t your wife?” The Therapist was about to say something when I turn to him. “Zip it Mr. You want me to talk and now I’m talking.” He nodded his head as I turn back to Danny. “You had every chance to make this work when you made promises to make things up to me. All you had to do was show up to when we made plans. Did you?”

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anonymous asked:

Hi, this question is for Chucky & Tiffany! What would your future life look like if you went through a downward spiral of meth and cocaine? I'm talking a loooot of drugs, and possibly back-alley plastic surgery. I wanna see what that would look like. I'm having a hard time picturing it in my feeble human mind. Thanks in advance, appreciate it, papa bless.

Chucky: Don’t do drugs, kids. Good god those things are horrific. Is that supposed to be me?!

Tiffany: Do my eyebrows look like that?! Are they that uneven?!



Hollowness - Jung Soojung

Can you imagine Krystal having a Hades storyline? Where she’s been lonely in Underworld/Hell for so long; and then she sees a beautiful girl living her life and Krystal wants to get to know her, so Krystal kidnaps her to be her future wife …

Yes, I did. And I’m all in for this. I changed a bit the plot, but I really hope you like it!

Originally posted by teyuns

The room was deadly quiet as always, even the fire crackling in the fireplace was mute. Soojung liked that for some reason, just watching the muted sinuous flames move from her spot at the foot of the king size bed. Her back against the once old dark wooden headboard, she was used to spend her free time there in that anodyne silence, trying to catch a breath that she knew it was gone forever. If she looked over her shoulder, she could see a figure lying over the bed.

The whole bed was made of some material similar to ivory. A dark ivory layer which covered the whole furniture down to the floor. Wood turned into black ivory, simple objects too. Even the figure of the woman lying there, as if she was asleep, was covered with ivory.

Soojung got used to hang out there, in the silent that the immense magic power set long time ago.

Keep reading

Percy had not one, not two, but 5 best men at his wedding. When he was confronted with the question of who should safeguard the ring till the wedding date, he went to Nico. Grover would eat it, Frank would be honoured but would guard it 24/7 and not pay attention to anything else, Jason would drop it somewhere flying across the country, and Leo would probably melt it for some parts in his workshop.

He went over to Nico - and - Will’s a week before the ceremony and handed it to Nico over coffee. The look on Nico’s face was surreal, and even that’s an understatement. He promised to guard it with his life and immediately went and kept it in a safe place.

Percy was not one to buy a ring though. Although he visited various jewellers from the local shop down the road all the way to Tiffany’s in Times Square, he finally decided to ask for help from the best person he knew. He took inspiration from all these shops, asked Sally, Piper, Rachel, and Hazel for help (Thaila wasn’t really a wedding-ring-jewellery type person), and even Athena, before finalising a design. Then he went to Leo’s workshop where, even with Leo’s speed, dedication and perfection, they took nearly 2 weeks to finish the ring.

It was a simple Platinum ring with a celestial bronze engraving on the inside with the words “My Wise Girl” and the date they first met. (precious metals and stones courtesy of Miss Hazel Levesque). On the outer surface was a single Sapphire, and inside the sapphire was a tiny owl holding a trident.

It was perfect.

(I would be forever grateful if someone could draw this. Drawing and art has never been a strength of mine)

One of my favourite things about Discworld women is the variety of approaches to sex/romance they represent and the general idea that all of them are okay.

There are of course your typical (only better) monogamous het romances like with Sybil, Adora, Magrat, Angua etc.

But there are also, let’s say, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg. The former is definitely aro/ace (Susan Sto Helit is arguably too) while the latter just enjoys sex. And it’s okay, they both are. Flashback with young Esme and Ridcully is kinda very cute, but Esme decided against marriage and we are given to understand she is happy with her life (as far as Esme can be happy). There’s no reason to feel pity for her or some shit like that. And there are lots of jokes about Nanny Ogg’s sex life, but none of them comes across as slut-shaming, no one really judges her or thinks she is somehow worth less as a person because she had active and non-monogamous sex life.

And then there are these not quite romances like with Tiffany and Roland or Susan and Imp, which are far more realistic than the notion of finding your true love in the first person that happens to catch your attention, and it’s okay too: you may fancy someone, you can spend some time together, but sometimes that’s all.

In the world mostly dominated by the narrative of “they’ve met, fell in love and lived happily ever after” and women being reduced to their love lives all of this is so refreshing and important.

Ye got that little bitty bit inside o’ you that holds on, right? The bitty bit that watches the rest o’ ye. ’Tis the First Sight and Second Thoughts ye have, and ’tis a wee gift an’ a big curse to ye. You see and hear what others canna, the world opens up its secrets to ye, but ye’re always like the person at the party with the wee drink in the corner who canna join in. There’s a little bitty bit inside ye that willna melt and flow.
—  The Wee Free Men, Terry Pratchett
“Mundanes Are Weird” (part 2)

“You weren’t kidding about all that training you did in your last school.” You smiled at Alec, impressed by his skills in P.E. “You’ve reflexes like a Jedi.”
“Like a what?” Alec frowned, confused.
“Ignore her, she’s a nerd. It’s a Star Wars thing.” Jason smiled, crutching along on Alec’s other side as you made your way to your next class.
“You know, I have a friend who keeps making Star Wars references, I think you’d like him.” Alec smiled. He had both his and Jason’s bag on his back, having insisted on carrying it. “What’s our next class?”
You thought for a second, then smiled. “English, we’re studying Yeats at the moment. Have you done any of his work before?”
“No, who is he?” Alec asked, following you as you turned into a classroom and went to a seat at the back, him taking the one beside you and Jason taking the one beside him.
“He’s an Irish poet, our teacher’s Irish.” You explained. “He’s actually really interesting, because not everything about him has been done before.”
“I see. And then after this, we’ve break?” He asked.
You nodded, digging in your school bag for your book. “Yeah, you gonna eat with your sister?” You smiled at him, putting your book down on the desk.
“I’m not sure, she’s very friendly, I’ve no doubt she’s managed to make a lot of friends already. Would you mind if I ate with you and Jason?” He looked down at the desk, clearly a little shy.
“Not at all.” You smiled. “I’d be glad to have you, I’m very nosy so I’m going to enjoy having the time to interrogate you.”
He smiled and laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Perhaps I’ve made the wrong decision.” He teased.
“Oh, you definitely have.” Jason laughed.
“Alright class, take out the homework!” Your teacher called, standing up at the whiteboard.

“So Jace, what school did you move from?” The girl he’d been sitting with in maths, Georgia, was basically glued to his side as she guided him to his last class before break.
“It was called The Institute.” He smiled, looking down at her. “Hey, Georgia, I don’t want to come across the wrong way, but I heard about some people getting attacked, but it seemed very hush-hush. What’s going on?”
She laughed. “Why? You scared?” She teased, taking the excuse to wrap her arms around him. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Jace laughed and gently detangled her from him. “Not for myself, my siblings moved school with me and I just wanna be sure my little sister is gonna be okay.”
“Well there hasn’t been anything serious, they were all back in school within a few days.” Georgia paused, thinking. “And the police have put protection all around the place, so there’s nothing for you to worry about, she’ll be fine.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly.
“That’s a relief.” Jace smiled. “I guess I might take the over-protective big brother role a little too seriously.” He laughed gently as Georgia led him into a classroom, guiding him to two seats around the middle of the room.
“Not at all.” She argued as they both sat down. “I bet she’s actually glad to have you, even if she maybe won’t admit it.” She laughed.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckled, stretching out his legs under the desk. “What class is this again?”
“You’ve asked me at least four times Jace!” Georgia smacked his arm. “It’s history!”

Clary was still happily chatting to the guy she’d been sitting next to in maths. He really reminded her of Simon, and had even offered to help her catch up with her work, because she had said she was a tad behind.
“Hey, Robert,” Clary began suddenly, in a lull in the conversation, “Wasn’t there something in the news about a girl getting attacked?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine as long as you don’t go behind the school.” He smiled reassuringly at her.
“Was that where the attack happened?” Clary frowned, because she’d heard it had happened in the corridors, during class.
“No, but it’s where the drinkers and the smokers all hang out, and we’re pretty sure the attacker followed the girls from there, because they were all known for their bad habits.” Robert sighed. “None of them were able to remember what happened either, which is why the police are having such struggles finding the attacker. But all this is very depressing, you don’t need to worry.” He sat down a few rows in front of Jace and Georgia, Clary sitting next to him.
“Yeah, it’s not exactly a cheerful conversation topic.” Clary agreed with a laugh, “Though I’m glad to hear that as long as I stay away from behind the school, I should be fine.”
“Yeah, just stick with me, I’ll protect you with my mathlete skills.” Robert laughed.
“I feel so safe.” She grinned, taking out her books. This school used the same textbooks as her old school, so she had all of them already, because after everything that happened, she never quite got around to throwing them out.

Meanwhile, Izzy was having a great time, talking about clothes and fashion with the other girls. She was really the only one in the Institute with an appreciation of the finer clothes in life, so she never got a chance to talk about it with others. Eventually, though, she managed to steer the conversation the way she wanted it to go, which was towards the vampire attacks.
“So, I have to ask, is there a curfew or something?” She gave the girls a charming smile.
“No, why would there be?” Tiffany asked, frowning.
“There were attacks or something, weren’t there?” She asked, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. “I don’t really wanna be staying in every night.”
“Nah, they were all during the day, so there wouldn’t be any point in having a curfew.” Tiffany smiled. “Don’t worry, your nightlife is still on the table.”
“That’s a relief.” Izzy smiled. “What’s the deal with those attacks anyway? I haven’t heard much about them.”
“There’s not much to hear really,” Alexandra admitted, “these girls were attacked, lost enough blood that they were unconscious when they were found, taken to hospital, but then they were fine. All but one are back in school now, and the one who isn’t was only attacked the day before yesterday, and all of them have been kept in hospital for at least two days to check for infection.”
“Infection?” Isabelle queried, frowning again.
“Yeah, they were bitten.” Tanya frowned. “It’s freaking weird if you ask me, some psycho running around, biting people. That’s why there’s police all over the place.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely not normal.” Alexandra said, running a hand through her hair.
“Girls!” Their teacher snapped. “If you would like to teach the lesson, by all means, come on up here. Otherwise, please stay quiet!”
All four of them burst into little fits of giggles, but managed to keep them under control, mostly.

Simon was in the same class as Izzy, talking to the friends he’d made in science class. He found out much the same information about the attacks as all the others had, although he had one difference. Everything he heard, he texted on to Raphael, hoping that he might be able to offer some advice. Unfortunately, Raphael was still asleep, or so Simon assumed, and was not replying.
Resigning himself to the idea that he might have to wait until Raphael got up for his breakfast of cow blood, Simon put his phone back in his pocket.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Simon,” Scott began, “Why did you move school?”
Simon chewed his lip, then looked at Scott, trying to look a tad embarrassed. “I’m in a band, and because of our gigs, I kept missing school and didn’t do my homework, so eventually, I was so far behind I had to repeat a year, so I moved.” He gave a slight smile.
Scott laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Are you still with the band?”
“Uh… yeah.” Simon admitted, “But it’s more relaxed this year, namely because my mom said if I want to stay in the band, I have to keep my grades up too.”
“Well, it’s certainly doable.” Scott encouraged. “At the start of this year, I was told if I failed one more test, I’d be kicked off the lacrosse team, and I’m the captain. But now, I’m even in one or two AP classes.”
“Wow, how’d you manage that?” Simon was in awe of this boy, though his vampire sense was telling him he might be more than just a boy.
“I didn’t sleep much.” He laughed, then quickly quieted as the teacher shot them a glare. “We’d better shut up before we get detention.”
“Good plan.” Simon whispered back, starting to take notes.


The Life of Christine Paolilla & The Clear Lake Massacre

Christine Paolilla was born in Long Island, New York on March 31, 1986 to Lori, a stay-at-home mom, and Charles Paolilla, a construction worker. When she was 2 years old, her father died from a construction site accident, followed by her grandfather and great-grandmother passing away as well. Following the death of her father, her mother started abusing drugs. At age five, Christine was diagnosed with a hair-loss condition called Alopecia. “She would wake up in the morning and there would be clumps of hair all over her pillow, patches here, patches there,” her mother, Lori Paolilla, said. This condition affected her eyes as well, so she lost her eyebrows and eyelashes. As a result of the hair loss, Paolilla was forced to wear wigs. She also had poor vision and wore thick glasses. Paolilla was frequently ridiculed and bullied by her classmates for her appearance, which affected her self-confidence. When her mother finally lost custody of Christine when she was only six years old, she was sent to live with her grandparents. 

Christine eventually reunited with her mother who had apparently overcome her drug addiction and remarried. The family then moved to Clear Lake City, Texas, a suburb of Houston. Christine enrolled at Clear Lake High School where she had a hard time making friends until two popular students,
Rachael Koloroutis and Tiffany Rowell befriended her and helped improve her appearance and fit in with the other students. In 2003, Paolilla was voted “Miss Irresistible” by her school’s student body. 

Rachael Koloroutis (left) and Tiffany Rowell (right)

Before & After she met Rachael and Tiffany

That same year that she was elected “Miss Irresistible” she began a relationship with 21-year-old Christopher Lee Snider. Her mother and stepfather disapproved of Snider, as did Rachael and Tiffany because of his frequent drug use and various arrests. Lori Paolilla later recalled that Snider isolated her daughter from her friends and family and indicated that the relationship was abusive and dysfunctional. After a fight with her boyfriend, Christine spent the night on the front lawn of his family’s home and threatened to kill his family. They also began using heavy drugs during their rocky relationship. Concerned with their relationship, Rachael and Tiffany visited Christine to try to convince her that Christopher was a bad guy. Instead of feeling a bit upset by this, Christine became very angry that her best friends did not approve of her boyfriend and it didn’t help that Christopher took it pretty offensively as well.

Photograph of Christine’s boyfriend, Christopher

The Murder

On July 18, 2003, four teens were found shot multiple times at point-blank range in a home in the placid Clear Lake neighborhood. Two of the victims were Christine’s friends, Rachael and Tiffany, who had recently graduated and were sharing the home together. Rachael answered the door for Christine, who she thought was a good friend. To her surprise, Christine was dressed in all black and was holding a gun and her boyfriend Christopher was standing right behind her. Christine immediately began shooting at Rachael who began running for her life. Behind her was Tiffany who had been sitting on the couch with her boyfriend. Christine ordered Christopher to shoot Tiffany and the boyfriend which he obliged. Rachael was crawling at this point, trying to get away when Christine walked up to her and took the final fatal blows to Rachael’s head with the gun. Before she died, Rachael looked up at Christine and said, “why are you doing this?


More than three years passed with no leads when an anonymous tip came in detailing the full murder, blaming Christine and Christopher. After receiving an anonymous tip, police arrested Christine inside a San Antonio, Texas hotel room. She was living with her then-husband Justin Rott; the two were heroin addicts who had not left the hotel room in eight months.

Christine with her husband, Justin

Photograph of the hotel room where Christine and her husband were staying

Christine blamed the murders on Christopher, saying that it was his idea. That was debunked when Christine’s husband was interrogated and confessed that he knew exactly what happened on that day and the information matched the evidence. Once Christopher found out that he was in trouble, he committed suicide. 


On October 13, 2008, Christine Paolilla was convicted of four counts of capital murder. Because she was a juvenile offender at the time of the killings, she was spared the death penalty. The following day, she was sentenced to life in prison. She is currently incarcerated at the Mountain View Unit in Gatesville, Texas and will be eligible for parole in 2046.