the-trot-line

Tantrum

Hi!! I just adore your work and the way you write!! In your own time would you mind writing a Spencer Reid/OC where Spencer is in the bullpen and just LOSES it. I mean out of this world angry (I would like to leave the prompt a little open for you, so I can see the awesomeness of your imagination (which is completely awesome in my opinion)). And the OC is the only one who can calm him down and everyone is just likthe baby just threw his first fit and they’re all just dumbfounded and at a loss…

Oh my gosh, thank you so much for the compliment!  Heh, I can do this!  I don’t know how long it will be, but I hope you enjoy it.  Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!


You felt it coming.  You felt it on the plane, you felt it in the air, and you felt when you landed.

The line his life was approaching was coming.

When you had walked into the bullpen for your first day of work, you had been incredibly nervous.  Your eyes were dodgy, your palms were clammy, and your knees were clacking whenever you went to stand.

And it made everyone very hesitant to trust you.

What they didn’t understand was that it wasn’t the job that made you nervous.

It was being in such close proximity to your family.

You hadn’t spoken to your family in over 7 years.  Ever since you had decided to pursue a career in some sort of law enforcement and had broken off your engagement to the prestigious Dunkenheim clan, your mother had disowned you from the family, stating that “the Y/L/N’s conduct themselves with much more dignity than that of a mere adult.”

You still don’t know what she meant by “mere adult.”

So when you went off to school and your trust fund was cashed out, you took on loan after loan to keep yourself afloat, got a job waitressing and nannying on the weekends, and ended up taking a job with the BAU, who had made a name for themselves after the infamous catch of a man by the name of Foyet.

And when an unsub started tackling the upper echelon of the area, your heart began to race.

Not because you thought your family was in danger…

…but because you knew the team would have to deal with them.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, beckoning you to the hallway.

“Yes boss?” you respond, trotting his way as lines of people with whom you’d grown up with file into the station.

“Your family is on their way, I figured you would want to know they are safe,” he says.

“What makes you think that?” you ask.

And with that, you turn your back on your boss and help Spencer and Derek shuffle everyone into the station.

“What is that smell?” one of them asks.

“Is there any water that isn’t tap?” someone else bites.

“Is that Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear someone whisper.

Sighing as you pinch the bridge of your nose, you feel a hand come down onto your back as it begins to rub lightly.

“It’s gonna be alright, I’ll see if I can keep them-”

“Y/N?”

Feeling your eyes fly open as Spencer feels your muscles under his hand tense, you slowly turn your gaze as your mother, no worse for wear, comes into view along with your father, your sister, her husband, and her four children.

“There’s my beautiful daughter,” your father says, holding out his arm for you.

But all you do is step backwards.

You hear the room go silent as everyone in your parent’s circle of friends turns their eyes towards your reaction.

“Come on, Y/N…” your mother mutters between clenched teeth, “don’t embarrass us.”

But all you do is stare.

“Y/L/N?” Rossi calls as you turn your head.

“Coming!” you ring out, turning your back on your family and walking away.

As the team begins their ascent up to the office, you shuffle from foot to foot as everyone tries to keep their eyes on anything else but you.

But the anger radiating from Spencer was enough to keep anyone from being less than obvious.

Closing your eyes as you take a deep breath, you hear the elevator doors open as you start for your desk, keeping your head down as you try to blink back your tears.

“Y/N?” your sister asks.

Huffing as she approaches you, you analyze her gait, her petite frame getting closer to you as you shake your head.

Despite the last child almost killing here, she was pregnant.

“I guess a ‘congrats’ is in order,” you sigh.

“Yeah,” she smiles lightly, rubbing her lightly protruding stomach, “yeah, we’re real excited.”

But all you did was nod.

“Y/N…you really need to talk to them,” she urges.

“Sis…don’t,” you say, holding up your hand.

“Look, I never had the fights with them that you did-”

“No,” you spin around, your voice raising, “you didn’t.  Because you were exactly what they wanted in a daughter.  You were the pageant queen, the petite little red head with the cute facial freckles and the big broad smile.  The head turner.  The one who is content with popping out children until it kills her-”

“That is enough!” you hear your father roar, his body striding towards yours as he grabs your arm, thrusting you into a wall.

“Just because you don’t want to lose weight and take care of yourself or know your place in this family doesn’t mean you get to demean your sister for it!” he yells, slamming you into the wall.

“Hey!” Hotch yells, grabbing your father as you close your eyes, slinking around the corner and taking off running as Hotch berates your father in the background.

Maybe your father’s show of “affection” would show your sister why you had left and never looked back.

Feeling your jaw begin to tremble, you bring your hand to your eyes, sighing heavily as you feel a hand lightly descend upon your shoulder.

And then?  The elevator doors dinged.

You knew who it was.

“Y/N?” Hotch asks.

Taking a deep breath as you turn around, Spencer finds his way behind you as he glares at his boss, your eyes slowly panning over, reddened from crying and tired from the exhaustion as your dead stare settles onto his.

“They have something they want to say,” he says as he steps off to the side, revealing your father and your mother, holding presents.

You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday.

“So…um…”

As your father clears his throat, he walks over and hands the little present to you, your hands outstretched to receive it as he leans over and kisses your forehead.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Your mother just walked over and chucked the present onto your desk.

Looking down at the bright wrapping paper, the corners neatly folded and the bow hand-tied, you slowly look up at him with a furrowed brow as Morgan steps in.

“Your daughter was integral in saving your life, the least you could do is smile at her,” he bites.

As you begin to open the bow, you watch as your mother tugs on your father’s arm, forcefully turning him and heading for the elevators.

You knew it was too good to be true.

Ripping the paper open before they can get to the elevator doors, desperate to prove your point to your entire team, you feel the tears streak down your face as your father’s present bares two DVD’s, one of them a home-based Zumba class and the other a biased documentary on the effects of food in our bodies.

You didn’t even attempt to hold the tears back this time.

You heard someone behind you forcefully unwrapping the paper of the present on the desk behind you as Hotch’s eyes widen, the DVD’s falling from your hand as you hear something being thrown at the wall.

You looked over and saw a make-up kit, its contents splattered all over the wall and the floor.

“That is enough!” Spencer roars, striding towards your parents as you sink to the floor.

“Your daughter is one of the finest agents to ever step foot through these doors!” he yells as he thrusts his finger into your father’s face, “And to stride into her life after years of not speaking only in an attempt to get her to be something that you want her to be is absolutely ridiculous!”

“She pursued us!” your mother raises her voice.

“To save your life!” Spencer roars back.

“We never asked for that,” your father mumbles as your mother grasps onto his arm.

“Then maybe she should have left you all to DIE!” Spencer shrieks, taking a step towards them as everyone’s jaw goes slack.

“Just because your other daughter is petite and smiling, doesn’t mean she’s happy.  And just because she’s pregnant even though the last child almost killed her doesn’t mean she wants it.  And just because Y/N doesn’t want to lose weight to fit a certain stereotype with your family or waste her time with face-paint doesn’t mean she isn’t beautiful!  Your daughter is wild, and free, and independent, and intelligent and selfless and courageous…to a fault.  She’s taken bullets for both myself, J.J., AND Morgan, she’s given herself up for our boss’s son when he was kidnapped, she’s opened her doors to us at 3 am when none of us can sleep, and she’s one of the kindest, wisest people I’ve ever come across!”

Even you didn’t realize you were standing to your feet at this point.

“She-…she’s been shot?” your father asks breathlessly.

“Do you even care at this point!?” Spencer shrieks, his voice hoarse as his arms flail.

“That woman,” he says as he points to you, “…that beautiful, incredible, humorous woman…right over there…”

Watching him look over at you as his trembling finger remains outstretched, you slowly stride over to him as you wrap your small hand around it, slowly walking over to him as you lower his trembling arm against his shaking body.

“This woman…” he says, his voice settling as his arm slips around you, your face craning up to him as you smile lightly.

“…is the anchor of this team.  And if it wasn’t for your daughter, we would all be dead,” he finishes.

Kneading his tense muscles under your touch, you feel everyone’s eyes on you as your stare locks with Spencer’s your lips puckering as you walk him through several breathing techniques to get him to settle down.

You were familiar with this side of Spencer.

Just…not in public.

“Ssshhh…” you coo, his body relaxing into yours as your hands continue to massage him, his heart-rate evening out as you lean in and lightly kiss Spencer’s shoulder.

“You alright?” you mutter.

And you felt Spencer nod into the top of your head.

“Son?” your father asks, stepping forward, “Are you dating out daughter?”

“No,” he whispers as he shakes his head, “No…but if I ever do…”

Feeling him let go of you as he takes a step towards your father, the two of them standing toe to toe as you hold your breath, you feel your body grow taut as you watch Spencer’s lips part to speak.

“…I’ll make sure to ask Rossi if it’s alright.  After all, he’s been more of a father to her than you will ever be.”

And with that, Spencer turns on his heels and returns to his desk, with everyone in the bullpen standing agape as their eyes trail after him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” your mother coos, shooting you a death stare as your father’s red-faced glare follows after Spencer, “they aren’t worth it.”

“Yes,” you pipe up, your voice strong as you turn, watching your parents step into the elevator.

“Yes, they are,” you say as you watch the doors close on them, their noses in the air as their haughty attitudes follow them out the door.

Turning on your heels as you make your way for Spencer, you put your hand on his shoulder as you force him to sit down, scooting a chair up under him as you make him lean back, his head resting on your stomach as your fingers begin to massage his scalp, his lips parting for a delicious moan before slowly working your way down his face.

“Breeeeeeathe…” you coach, watching the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest.

“Holy…shit…” Morgan says, letting out the breath he was holding as J.J. slowly pans her open mouth towards him.

“What the hell just happened?” she breathlessly asks.

“I’ll tell you what just happened,” Hotch murmurs as he comes to stand in between the two of them.

“Our little toddler just threw his first tantrum,” Rossi jokes, wiggling his eyebrows as you shake your head.

You knew how the team perceived Spencer, being the youngest of them all.

But Spencer, in some respects, was more of a man then the ones on the team.

And?…that was a secret meant only for the two of you.

Question

So i went to my friends jumping lesson yesterday. 

Her lesson was weirdly short tho???

We drove an HOUR to the barn. Showed up at 5:20, the lesson was scheduled for 5:30. Started ridding about 5:35. She warmed up on the flat, jump a cross rail a few times, then did a line of trot poles a cross rail and a small vertical twice. She rode the first line well but the had a long distance due to the vertical being too close to the cross. Fixed it and second time was PERFECT. then her trainer was like “ok that was good lets call it a day.” It was 6:30. that meant her lesson was barley a half an hour. She pays $40 for what is supposed to be an hour lesson.

Her trainer explained that because she jumped the line so well, they should end on it because it was only going to get worse after that. 

i get that but the lessons r supposed to be an hour and my friend has a big show in a few weeks, and she can only ride once a week. Should she be upset? her last 2 lessons were only about 45 minutes as well. 

Wherever He Goes

If Harvey had a dollar for every time a victim or witness had uttered the words, “It all happened so fast”, or some variation thereof, during his time working as a prosecutor he’d have, well, he’d have enough dollars to dine out at his favourite expensive restaurant every night for a month. Or so it felt, anyway. It was a cliché, and Harvey hated clichés. Even if they were true. And he couldn’t deny the truth of this one, when he found himself the witness and Mike the victim. Not that Mike had gone down without a fight.


Idiot, Harvey thought, for about the hundredth time, as the events of the afternoon played on a loop behind his eyes. Reliving the moment over and over again in his head as his mind constantly spiralled back there. One minute Mike was standing on the sidewalk, looking down at Harvey still sitting in the town car Mike had just got out of. The next he was sprawled out on the pavement over half a block away. Only in Harvey’s anxiety-induced visions, Mike didn’t always get up again. Yeah, Harvey had a feeling he was going to be waking up in a cold sweat thinking about all the worst case scenarios for a while. Damn that kid.

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Texts, a fanfic

Sonic gets some late night (and misspelled) texts from Amy Rose while she is having the night out. I imagined this at the point in time where Sonic was slowly starting to realize he may have feelings for the girl.


12:43am

It was just a typical easy night for Sonic. The sleeping blue hedgehog was sprawled out in his bed with limbs tossed in all directions. His mouth was loosely open with heavy subconscious breaths passing through his lips. If propped open any further, a deep gurgling snore would likely be heard. But amongst the dreams of pummeling a certain egg-shaped nemesis, Sonic’s peaceful rest was abruptly interrupted by the obnoxious buzzing of his vibrating phone.

His eyes shot open at the sudden distress but quickly clenched back shut once he realized the state he was in. His eyes remained clamped as he made a sluggish attempt to locate his phone without his sense of sight. A few tries and he finally made it. Once in his hands, his mind – no matter how tired and shaken up it was from the sudden awakening – knew exactly where to place his thumb to accept the call.

“erhmm.” Sonic accidentally grunted. “Hello?” It was one of the groggiest greetings he’d likely ever given.

“SONIC!” A shout came from the other end so loud that Sonic immediately tossed the hand that held the phone away from his ear.

“Chaos…” He mumbled. “You don’t have to yell.” He said more to himself as he brought the phone back toward his face, keeping it now at a safe distance.

But the one on the other end must have heard Sonic’s statement. “Oh? OHH! I’m so sorry!! Are you sleeping?”

“Well I was…Amy?” He questioned as he was now able to recognize the caller.

“Ye-yeah!” Though less than before, she was still shouting. “I’m out at Club Rouge with her and Knuckles. I was– we were wondering if you wanted to come out. But nevermindnevermindnevermind, I didn’t mean to wake you up if you are sleeping.”

There was a short and slightly awkward pause and Sonic realized she was probably waiting for him to say something. His eyes had only cracked open at this point but his face radiated a purely blank expression, illuminated only by the backlight of his phone. “…..Well?”

“Well sorry to wake you!” Amy sounded a little ‘out of it’ already but nothing too bad. Not like Sonic really cared at this point. He only had one thing on his mind and that was getting back to sleep. “Bye Amy.” He concluded with more of a slight upbeat as to not completely shut her out.

“Bye Sonic! Don’t let the bed bugs bite!” She cheered from the other end. Sonic hung up the phone and rolled over, dragging the sheet that was draped over his shoulder closer inward.

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Inexorable, Chapter 1

Rating: somewhere between T and not-explicit M
Word Count:
6,870 words
Prompt:
From ritasama​ - Single mother Mikasa meets Levi, a rich successful businessman.
A long author note/apology: So. Um. When I hit 100 followers a few months ago, I offered to write five fics for five people. Koi No Yokan was the first, and then I just… didn’t. For months I couldn’t wrap my head around this story, then I got bummed out about it, then I ignored it, then I realized I owed this and I had to do it. Honestly, I feel fucking terrible about it and I apologize, because I promised this and didn’t come through for a long, long time. I’m still writing, but I’ve got 3.25 out of 5 chapters written and I’ve been hammering away at it, so I’m hoping to be all done soon. I’m aiming to post a chapter every week or so, but I can’t promise I’ll stick to that schedule. That having been said, I hope you enjoy this!


There is a baby by the new secretary’s desk.

Levi Ackerman cannot remember the last time he saw a baby in person. His boss keeps showing him pictures of his ever-growing brood — an unruly-looking mob of blond children with wild bespectacled eyes — but he has thankfully managed to avoid having to encounter the brats in real life. The same cannot be said for the occupant of the playpen five feet in front of him, who is currently sucking her thumb and sleeping peacefully.

For now, Levi thinks. Soon she’ll be screaming and shitting and doing whatever else it is that babies do.

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A Bloody Change (vampire, NSFW, rape, futa, female only)

<b> You are a futa vampire mare whom can turn other mares into vampires by using your marecock on every single one of your victim’s holes and then biting her marehood and right above her heart.  It is late at night; however, you manage to spot Sky Line trotting in the everfree forest and decide that you should turn her into a vampire.

“We go to the supermarket every night, get a sandwich, and trot home to learn lines. Sometimes we phone each other and say: ‘How’s it going? Really badly? Me too. Do you want to come over and practise?
I’m terribly fond of Karen - we’re good pals. I’ve learnt how to make her laugh during filming. I can say a word in a silly voice, and she’ll go. Karen can do it to me to. It’s that old Smith-Gillan banter - it’s become quite famous on set.”

- Matt Smith

5

“Well, firstly, I think what’s remarkable about us as a group, and I would pay tribute to the group on this, is that there hasn’t been any fallings out, there hasn’t been any fist fights, and there hasn’t even been really, really strong words. And there’s a lot of blokes in there. A company of men, with egos, not falling out is kind of cool. I’ve not known it, I’ve not known it for this long. I’ve never done a job for this long. But the fact that we’ve all kept our heads and tried to act as a group and tried to be sensitive– I think it would be different if there was four of us. If there was four of you, there’s nowhere to hide. You just have to get on with the other three people. But because there’s a lot more than that, you can just go there one day, and there, it’s a bit more evenly spread out. So we’ve really held together as a group very, very well. And like anything else, like any other working relationship, it’s about finding your place within it, finding when it’s your turn, finding out when it’s not your turn. And I’m amazed how well it’s happened, I really am. It’s one of the things I’m proudest of, actually. And I think it’s one of the things we’ll all be proudest of in ten years, is that we all maintained quite a good working relationship, and pretty friendly, really. I think the hard thing is don’t make the drama school mistake of, first two weeks: “You’re my best friend, I love you, I love you!” And then Christmas comes: “Ah, bitch.” Because if you go in too strong, it will all go to shit. But we’re all feeling each other out. Not literally, that would be wrong. But as a group, finding out just where we all slot in. And it’s amazing– I’m not trotting out any party line here, we’re all getting on fine, which is about as good as you could hope for after a year and a half. And we’re still going out for meals, still going out for drinks, still being round each other’s houses without wanting to kill each other, which is no mean feat.”

Martin Freeman on the Hobbit cast

SOMEONE ON THE INTERNET trotted out that line about agnostics being wishy-washy (“just scum” is the phrase this person used) and I was in the mood to reply. And I’m gonna share my reply with Tumblr because if you follow me on social media there’s a chance you might be interested to know something about where I come from and what I believe.

So here’s what I wrote:

It depends what kind of ‘agnostic’ you’re talking about. Over the past decade-odd, I’ve transitioned from being religious, to a religiously-inclined agnostic then gradually to an atheistic one, but my agnosticism has always been what some people would call capital-A agnosticism: I don’t and can’t know the truth of the existence and nature of God, and neither can you. You can (and should) do your best to draw reasonable conclusions based on evidence, but there must always be that caveat: the limitations of human knowledge, plus the imperfection of human perception.

In my experience this sort of dedicated agnosticism is a much more difficult 'belief’ to live with than religion or atheism. It’s easy to believe in SOMETHING; it’s much easier on the mind to have it believe in SOMETHING, so you know who you are and what you 'stand for’. Plus you feel like part of a club. Whereas agnosticism — for an intelligent, engaged person — is a constant challenge. Every moral choice, every philosophical problem must be tackled uniquely; there’s no fundamental belief to fall back on when you’re too tired or busy to think. In a way you could define agnosticism simply as the absence of dogma. Dogma is easy, including atheist dogma, or any kind of political dogma.

Personally, having been raised Christian and really intellectually dedicated to Christianity for so much of my life, pulling that rug out from under myself was not an easy thing to do; in fact it was extremely distressing and certainly contributed to the years of depression I suffered in my twenties. I’m proud of myself for following where my intellect led me — towards agnosticism — even though it was painful. It would have been easy to retreat back into religion and live the rest of my life as an intellectual with a massive blind spot (you know the type); it would have been just as easy to create a new narrative for myself as a big-brained natural atheist who’d been oppressed by religion since birth, and join the angry internet atheist club, replacing one belief-based support group with another.

I’m not feeble or wishy-washy. Rebuilding my identity and figuring out what I think is true — and out of what is true, what is important — has been a long and difficult process, and a more-or-less solitary one: no churches, no clubs, no in-groups for me. But in the end I reckon it’s made me a far better person. Once I accepted that much of my knowledge and understanding had in fact been the lack thereof, I became less arrogant; I became more curious about and understanding of other people’s beliefs and ideas; I became a better listener and learner. I became agnostic not just about the existence of God but about EVERYTHING, and from there I was better able to learn how to identify truth. I used to think I understood everything, now I think I understand almost nothing, but the understanding I do possess is stronger and better.

And spiritually, I am slowly learning how to fill that void inside me — the one all humans have — with things pleasant, worthwhile, healthy and helpful — anything but dogma. And I appreciate better than ever the myriad void-fillers we human beings have invented for ourselves over the millennia, and I appreciate that all these religions and cultures and communities are so much bigger and more important than something as petty as whether a person believes in God or not.

“I don’t know what’s true” is a terrifying belief to live with, especially if it suddenly supplants “I’m right about everything” as your daily philosophy. It has taken me years to rebuild my formerly boundless self-confidence to the point where I can say, “Almost certain is good enough,” and dedicate myself to any sort of idea or purpose. I joined the Greens this year; I enthusiastically promoted democracy this year (remember that comic?) — none of that, nothing worthwhile would have emerged from my personality if I hadn’t started with agnosticism.

tl;dr: Go fuck yourself.

Oh and if you meant the kind of agnostic where 'agnostic’ just means, “Who knows; who cares?” — well, I guess you won’t have many interesting conversations with someone like that, but at least they’re relatively harmless. I wish I’d been raised by someone like that. So go fuck yourself anyway.

acheaptrickandacheesyoneline  asked:

"Or do you want me to write Oliver and Tony’s showdown from It Runs in the Family?" YES YES I DO I WANT OLIVER MEETING UNCLE STEVE AND AUNT NATASHA AND "COUSIN BUCKY" AND CLINT AND YES PLEASE *grabby hands*

Oliver took a deep breath as he stepped out of his room at the Stark Mansion.  Tonight was the engagement party that Felicity’s parents were throwing for Felicity and himself.  And he was nervous.  Not just because he knew that Tony must have invited all of his Avengers friends, all of Felicity’s honorary uncles, and tonight would be a never-ending string of people threatening him with all kinds of injuries if he hurt Felicity.

But … this was his introduction into Felicity’s world, both as Oliver Queen and as the Green Arrow.  And what if all of these people looked at him and judged that not only wasn’t he good enough for Felicity, he wasn’t good enough to be the Green Arrow?  Any one of these people tonight could make his life very difficult … 

To his surprise, there was no answer when he knocked on Felicity’s door.  He jumped when J.A.R.V.I.S. said, in an apologetic tone, “Miss Stark is already downstairs, Mr. Queen.”  

“Oh.  Um, thanks,” he said, unsure if he would ever not feel silly talking to thin air.  He’d have to get over that, though, since Felicity had her own version of J.A.R.V.I.S. in her apartment and was bound to install it in their future home.  

Their home.  Oliver found himself smiling just at the thought.  He was going to live with Felicity.  She had his engagement ring on her finger, and hopefully in no more than six months, she would have his wedding ring, too.  And he’d have a ring on his finger, too.

When he reached the foot of the stairs, he saw Felicity standing with her parents.  All three of them were talking at the same time, one of the friendly arguments they had all the time that Oliver didn’t really understand.  But that was okay.  Just as long as he could stand by Felicity’s side and hold her hand and see her win the fight, as usual.  

“There you are,” he said, walking up to her and kissing her cheek.  

“Oliver!” Felicity exclaimed with a wide smile.  She grabbed his hand and pulled him close to her.  “Hi.  You look so handsome.”  Her free hand stroked the lapel of his suit and she looked up at him through her eyelashes.  

“You are gonna kill me,” he said with a smile, taking in her sparkling eyes and shiny curls, to go with the long blue gown she was wearing.  “You look beautiful, and now you’re giving me the come-hither look with your parents right here?”  

Her smile softened.  “Just trying to make you think of something other than your nerves.  You know everyone’s going to love you, so you shouldn’t be nervous.”  

“They’ll love me once they’re done threatening me,” Oliver told her, pulling her close to him.  

Felicity’s lips pursed and she sighed.  “You’re right.  All my uncles are going to trot out that old line.  ‘If you hurt her, you’re gonna wish you were never born’, etc. etc.”  She tilted her head to one side, then looked at him and smiled brightly.  “But my aunts won’t do that.”

“Oh, they won’t?” he asked, dropping her hand and wrapping his arm around her.

“Yep.  Because they know there wouldn’t be anything left of you after I finished taking care of you, if you hurt me.  Which you won’t, so there’s nothing to worry about, like I said.”  

Oliver buried his face against her neck, his shoulders shaking with laughter.  God, he loved her.  

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One night in Paris I saw Marianne Faithfull sitting in the corner of a bar. I am a self-confessed groupie - I have never dated a man who was not a lead singer. To me, Marianne Faithfull is the holy grail of Groupiedom. So of course in a drunken haze (it was Fashion Week) I barreled over to her and just straight up asked her how she got over Mick Jagger. Because how, HOW, do you get over Mick Jagger?!! She said, ‘Dahhhling, you can’t believe the lyrics.’ I don’t really know what this means. So I asked my mum instead (about heart-break, not Mick Jagger (I wish)) and she told me:

‘Nobody goes through life without having their heart broken and one day you’ll wake up and it will be okay.’

My mother is amazing. She’s like a weird oracle. If she wasn’t happy living in England baking cakes and listening to the radio she would be in charge of a Witches’ Coven. Other things she has said (bear in mind, these were in response to the same situation) include both ‘out of sight, out of mind’ and ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ She also said (and this made me do a little puke in my mouth), ‘the best way to get over one man is to get under another.’ I don’t think she intended for me to go on a massive bone rampage but I certainly upheld my end of that bargain several times, so for that gem of information, mother, I thank you from the bottom of my broken heart.

There are upsides to despair. You can wear a blanket instead of a coat and your friends won’t judge you. You can smoke indoors because nobody will have the heart to tell an inconsolable girl that a smoking ban has been in place for eight years. And you find out that people are very nice and they care about you even if the person you care about most doesn’t. When somebody makes you laugh when you’re sad, that’s the most enjoyable laugh you’ll ever experience. On a positive day during an outdoor and legal cigarette break I told a friend that I was fine and trotted out the line ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ To which she replied, deadpan, ‘that’s not true, that which doesn’t kill you makes you wanna die.’

The nicest thing I heard during the worst time in my life was this: ‘you have to suffer heartbreak so you know what to tell your daughter when she has her heart broken.’ I’m Alexa Chung and one day I’m going to have a daughter and I’m going to know what to say to her. I’m going to say:

'Nobody goes through life without having their heart broken and one day you’ll wake up and it will be okay.’

I can’t fucking wait for that day to come.

—  Alexa Chung on heartbreak
On a positive day during an outdoor and legal cigarette break I told a friend that I was fine and trotted out the line ‘what doesn’t kill you make you stronger.’ To which she replied, deadpan, ‘that’s not true, that which doesn’t kill you makes you wanna die.’
—  It; Alexa Chung.

beeftony  asked:

I'm a big fan of tonight's strip because you can see part of Joyce's worldview change in just three panels. Up until now she's trotted out the whole "love the sinner hate the sin" line when it comes to homosexuality, which was enabled by Ethan, who wanted back in the closet anyway. But when her best friend is involved she just can't see it that way, and I love how you've consistently portrayed her as someone who follows the spirit of Christianity rather than just what she's been told.

just wait until you see the posts from folks who are upset that Joyce stopped trotting out that line

probably only on here, ‘cuz that trash is not for my website

anonymous asked:

inter-departmental sports competition au for klaine and they're both super competitive but it turns out they're both terrible :D

hihihi

“You’re going to eat my dust, Anderson.”

“You wish. Get ready to admire my backside, Hummel.”

Blaine trots to the starting line, and Kurt has to remind himself how to swallow and breathe at the same time.

He does love that backside.

But he loves beating Blaine even more.

Sam and Puck look at each other over their heads, and barely manage to keep their laughter in check.

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