there was only three right

anonymous asked:

“I want to get married. Right now.” W yama-chan please.

Secret Relationship⎢Always Accepting

“Let’s get married.”

And, that’s how your day began. You had spent the night over your boyfriend’s house and planned to head home in the afternoon, only to hear those three words come from his mouth right before you even opened the door. Ryosuke had always been a little hot-blooded, giving small thought before taking action, but this was taking it to a whole other level.

Keep reading

  • Ravenclaw: There's going to be snow!
  • Sytherin: Yup, enough to bury small animals.
  • Ravenclaw: Why must you be like this?
  • Slytherin: Why are you so excited about it?
  • Ravenclaw: Because now I can sit in front of the fireplace and read books.
  • Slytherin: You do that anyway.
  • Ravenclaw: Yeah, but now there's aesthetic.

You watch the man write the words. “Female. 20. Uncontaminated.” Those are your selling points, your ticket to survival. And only two of the three are right.

5

That one time Asami low-key confesses to Korra because you could cut the tension with a knife. Bolin thinks he’s helping.

taken from when the thing happens” by weiweipon

what if medusa was a real woman. i mean: what if the woman with snakes in her hair was once a tiny girl with beautiful braids in her black hair.

what if the stories came from her smooth hands. when she was six she could make pottery that looked like flowers blooming in your palms. could carefully create replicas of any plant she saw.

and medusa was smart. ran from home, tucked up her hair so it looked short, made herself into a little boy. besides, they liked pretty boys. medusa at school with top grades, sending her unknowable stares at the other men. because the whole time she’s learning the planes of their faces, the way they look while they’re thinking, the slight twist of their hand that meant they were lying. 

medusa going home to sketch every little figure. comes to school in the morning with her hands caked in pottery clay. medusa learns. scrubs dirt on her face to mimic their planes. tilts her head the right way when she’s thinking. doesn’t twist her hand when she’s lying.

in her back yard, a little garden grows. statues of ceramic boys only three feet tall. at first, she can’t quite get the faces right. men are not the same as plants. there is something weird about the proportions she uses. medusa frowns.

she starts making animals instead for a bit, annoyed and disheartened. she’d always just been naturally good at it, and the fact she couldn’t just make something felt as if she’d lost her gift.

she makes cats and dogs and her neighbor’s birds and keeps going.

the snake wasn’t her favorite. he just wouldn’t leave her alone, so she gave up and let him sleep on her in the cold nights. besides, he was a small garden snake, couldn’t even bite her hard, just wanted a place of warmth. she let him rest on the angles of her shoulders, right near her neck, even if he sometimes forgot and held her too hard. that was okay. when she was little, she forgot too, sometimes, and shattered the slim walls of her pottery. the snake had a lot of growing up to do.

she loved no one. not because she was cold-hearted. just because it wasn’t something she wanted. she was busy with her artwork.

she chose an apprenticeship under a master craftsman. his sculptures made her breath stop. she was careful in the workshop, kept her things simple, kept her mouth shut. he called her stupid often. she would duck her head. sometimes she would make mistakes on purpose. all the while he only made sculptures of men. said there was no beauty in women. often made savage remarks about those they saw in the market.

and all the while, she watched him. she watched him and she went home and sketched. this is how his hands were when he made a vine. this is how they were when shaping a nose.

and her back yard garden would grow. little boys became her master, over and over and over, until she could get his jaw right. ceramic became sculpture.

he was who took her to athena’s temple. who shouted at her about how beautiful the statues were against her own. every week he’d come back and shame her. asked how the women there were smarter than the man she was supposed to be. medusa ducked her head and grit her teeth.

in her back yard, she made them. she made every god and goddess she’d seen in the city. her favorite was athena. she ached over her features. had spent so long in the world of men, was blinded by the beauty of women.

it was a black night. and medusa thought her master had left the temple before her. she loosened all the bindings that kept her from breathing. took her hair out. worshiped in peace. placed on athena’s alter a small and beautiful thing. the goddess, head tilted, thinking.

when he found medusa, what made him angry was not her small frame. it was the statute. a delicate thing. much better than the ones he had ever made.

he took it and snapped it in half. threw it deep in the temple’s well to rot. pulled her by her hair. demanded to know where it had come from.

medusa, angry, tired of hiding, tired of late nights and being a boy and pretending: medusa, athena-mad, spat on him. “I did it,” her voice is strong and full of hatred, “A woman made something better than a man could.”

He meant to kill her. To bash her head into the temple steps, claim it was an accident - or better yet, the spite of a god made flesh.

when he grabs her hair, the goddess bites back. athena, patron of creators, patron of the arts, patron of girls and those who are smart - she turns medusa’s hair into snakes. 

it is a quick little thing, darts out and draws blood, almost falls from her hair as a result. she catches the creature and runs, runs until she feels numb.

and what if - while her master is making up a story about poseidon and athena’s rage, explaining medusa’s back yard full of frozen men as being evidence of her evilness - what if medusa finds friends in blind women. and they teach her how to feel what she is seeing. how to use her hands with her eyes closed to make maps of whatever she holds. she starts with plants again. her snake is big now, and has babies. she moves on to their little wiggling forms, amused when they make tiny rings around her fingers. she does not live in a cave. she dresses as a man again, goes to market, sells her roses and vines and beautiful (simple) things. buys herself and the women a nice house out beyond all the noise of it. fills their garden with frozen men.

when the men come to kill her - because now her name is known, it is whispered, sticks in the throat - they don’t find her. they find a tall man who tells them: look in the mountains. when they don’t come back, it’s no fault of medusa’s. frankly, she thinks they should have brought more supplies than their swords into the deep woods. she’s not cruel. when they leave, she makes a statue of them, as her version of a memorial.

but one man is not like the others. he finds her with her hair down, humming, dancing around a marble stone. her snakes are warming in the sun.

medusa? he asks her. it’s a name she hasn’t heard in a long while.

she is tired of being hunted. she just wants to make art. she waits for the sword point. but he hesitates. looks at her full in her face.

strikes a bargain. if she makes him a head for his shield, he will tell the others that she is good and dead. and he will sell her art to better patrons when he could - although he suggests at least hiding the signature she has with maybe a little less snake-like scrawl - he would make her name known.

but medusa knows men. knows they will chomp down on a horror story faster than that of the artist. she is already permanent. she says: no, here’s what happens.

after many months, he has his shield. she wouldn’t let him leave with the first nine hundred versions, always found something wrong with them. he grows fond of her in this time, agrees to her terms. even he can’t really look at the shield head-on. she has captured a scream, a rage, too much. it is so utterly human and at once not that it makes his skin crawl.

where medusa’s blood drops, serpents sprawl. or at least, that’s the code she uses. when he finds little girls who can make art, he sends them to her. 

medusa does not expect to be known for the school that she starts. she is a women artist in a time of men, and her name is already dead to them. but i know medusa. i know her. she is known for her work.

after all, who can speak about medusa without mentioning how she froze the world?

things every jew can relate to

1. not keeping any trash cans in your house because they’re not kosher
2. only being able to read right to left
3. having the last name kleinbergowitzman
4. being terrible at driving
5. when you’re in a crowd and someone calls your name and you turn your head and your large birdlike jewish nose takes out the three people to your right
6. only being able to spend money in multiples of 18 (makes splitting the check really hard)
7. getting really sick of only ingesting matzah and the blood of christian children
8. stealing money from gentiles and sensibly investing it while laughing jewishly
9. when your yarmulke won’t cover your horns
10. walking by a church and instantly catching on fire

cassiebones  asked:

How many girls do you think Alex accidentally flirted with before she realized she was gay? Like she was SO flirting with Maggie before she realized but like how often do you think that happened and she just thought she was being nice or whatever? Fucking oblivious gay nerd.

She’s six and the girl’s brothers had left her all alone in the sand as they dashed into the ocean, yelping and shoving and splashing each other as they barrel deeper into the water.

The girl looks lonely and the girl looks listless, and Alex knows the feeling.

“You don’t like the ocean?” she asks without preamble, because six year old social code permits so much more direct communication than older codes will.

The girl turns to her and sighs. Her face is pretty, even when it’s sad, and Alex bites the inside of her cheek. “I’ll just slow my brothers down,” she says, and Alex holds out an open hand.

“You won’t slow me down.”

They take each wave together, the girl never letting go of Alex’s hand, and Alex never wanting her to.

Eliza, watching from their balcony overlooking the beach, is proud that her shy little Alexandra is finally making a friend.

She’s ten and the pretty girl from homeroom has the best science fair poster in the whole lunchroom.

Except for Alex’s, of course, but Alex doesn’t mention that when she tells her that it looks great, and how did she get such clear images of a monthly progression of sunspots from a homemade pinhole camera?

Alex thinks the girl blushes, but it must be because she’s shy, or maybe she doesn’t like talking in such a crowded, bustling space. Or it’s Alex’s imagination.

Either way, she decides that the best course of action is to keep complimenting the girl, because she deserves it, and if Alex’s life as a professional ten year old nerd is any indication, the girl can use all the compliments she can get.

She’s fourteen, and her newest surf instructor is eighteen, and Alex has never been nervous before classes before, but she almost throws up each time, now, because what if she messes up, and what if her instructor decides that Alex has only been accelerated to an advanced class by luck, and she demotes her back down to surfing with the other fourteen year olds, and – 

“Nice job, Danvers!” she calls, and Alex nearly spills off her board at the way her heart leaps, at the way she says her name.

When her boyfriend picks her up after class – her instructor’s boyfriend, not Alex’s, because who would ever want to date her, anyway? – Alex stands a little bit straighter, gets her instructor to laugh a little bit louder.

“Make sure he takes you somewhere nice: you only deserve the best places, you know?” she tells her, and she thinks she’s smooth, thinks she’s putting the college boy in his place, even though she’s not quite sure why she wants to.

She’s sixteen and Vicky Donahue is always on her mind. And that’s okay – they’re best friends, and best friends are supposed to always be on each other’s minds, right? – and Vicky is nice to Kara and Vicky smells so damn good and Alex wants to be just like her and she usually loves school but god the days before the nights she gets to sleep over at Vicky’s are horribly, horribly long.

Because Vicky’s mother keeps offering to set up an air mattress in Vicky’s room, and Alex keeps telling her, “It’s alright, Mrs. Donahue, you don’t have to go out of your way, I don’t mind the tight space, honest.” Because it is a tight space, sharing Vicky’s bed, but it means that Vicky’s body is close to hers, and best friends snuggle all the time, right?

And friends play dress up, too, even in high school, right, and when Vicky goes through her parents’ closets and tosses her top off without thinking to try on something new, Alex gulps extra hard and she blushes like she’s Kara and she stammers but she obeys when Vicky tells her to come zip her up, and she nearly kisses the back of her neck because friends are affectionate with each other, right, and she’s sincere when she tells her that she’s beautiful, that she’s the prettiest girl in the whole school, the whole town, and Vicky gives her something of a strange look, and she turns her back to Alex before she changes again.

She’s nineteen and she doesn’t have much use for English class, but that girl who sits across from her makes great drawings in her notebook and Alex has to tell her, right, because who doesn’t want to be complimented?

“Hey – I really like your uh… art.”

The girl giggles. “They’re just doodles.”

“No, but they’re really good! You’re really good.”

The girl shrugs, her eyes lingering on Alex’s face a beat too long. But not long enough.

She starts doodling for Alex, nudging her and edging her notebook toward her, sometimes ripping out the sketches and gifting them to a spluttering Alex. She keeps every one of them and she takes them out during long days in the lab, and she chews on the inside of her cheek, and she fantasizes about what the girl’s boyfriend probably likes to do to her in bed, because some of the doodles are a bit sexual, so it’s only natural for the mind to wander, right?

She’s twenty-three and she’s partying way too hard, because college was too easy and grad school is easy but what’s not easy is Eliza’s voice in the back of her head, is the constant guilt of having gone off to Stanford without Kara, is the constant confusion and loneliness because she can get everything else right, but not dating, not men, and Eliza is starting to ask uncomfortable questions.

She goes home with men with clumsy hands and overeager tongues, but she dances with women with scintillating touches and vodka on their breath. She smiles and sometimes, she winks, and sometimes, she puts her hands on hips that aren’t hers, and sometimes, her blood rushes through her veins so fast she can barely breathe because her body will go home with a guy, but her mind will stay here on the dance floor.

She’s twenty-seven and it’s been too long, and that’s okay, because the DEO keeps her busy, the DEO keeps her focused. The DEO saved her life.

But she’s twenty-seven and Lucy Lane walks in and Kara isn’t wrong about how nice she smells and how smart she is and how date-able she is, but she’s the enemy because of who her father is and she’s the enemy because of who her ex-boyfriend-sort-of-still-boyfriend is and she’s the enemy because she almost sends Alex and J’onn off to Cadmus, but suddenly she’s not the enemy because she rescues them and fights for them and she throws everything on the line for them and Alex thinks of that thing she felt during her interrogation, correcting Lucy from calling her Alexandra, Lucy’s piercing eyes when she called out that Alex was lying, Lucy’s uncomfortable shifting when what’s his face was going on yet another xenophobic rant, and Alex can’t think about any of this now because now, she’s on the run, and sure, she’ll always have Lucy to thank for that, but later, later, later.

She’s twenty-eight and it’s her crime scene, dammit, not some arrogant detective’s with gorgeous eyes and gorgeous hair and a confident smirk and god, god, god, how is she that smart, how is anyone that sharp?

She’s twenty-eight and it’s innocent, it’s pool, they’re friends, and of course she’s not jealous when she says she’s got a hot date, because sure, whatever woman has a hot date with Maggie Sawyer is probably the luckiest woman in the world, but Alex is just excited to finally meet someone that can go toe-to-toe with her, that can challenge her, that can change her. And if her stomach flips a little bit when she saunters off in those jeans and that tank top to that date, it’s just because she’d hoped maybe they could go for a drink, because it’s been so long since Alex has had a friend outside of work.

She’s twenty-eight and she’s up all night, because she’s twenty-eight and she’s falling in love. In gay love. Lesbian love. 

God, god, god, how has she not seen it before?

She’s falling in love with a woman, and memories are exploding out of her like water bursting out of a dam, and she’s terrified and she’s confused and she’s never felt more… herself.

And Maggie Sawyer is the reason why.

5

Looks like staying up too late to draw bakushimanari comics that make sense only to me is becoming an ill advised habit

anonymous asked:

will you use your powers as mystical shitposting dreamworks infiltration to give lance and hunk the character development they Deserve

ANON, I GLADLY WILL.

*cracks my knuckles* first of all:

  • Lance totally knows what a fucking hypothesis is. What the hell. My eight-year-old little sister knows what that is. “In English” my ass.
  • Hunk is literally… an engineer… How can they not remember this, they only gave Hunk like Three Defining Character Details. MMMMMM.
  • I’m only halfway through episode 7 right now but let me just say: Lance and Hunk would totally explore the space mall together. Because you know what you do when you go to the mall? YOU FUCK AROUND WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND.
  • If any of the Paladins would have an invested interest in learning Altean it would probably be Hunk since he’s the… idk… team engineer and therefore in charge of maintaining the Lions (that’s of course assuming Dreamworks ever gives him the chance lol!!!!!!!!!!!!)

And uuuuuurgh okay sidenote: I’m so mad that Dreamworks kept!!!!! Boosting Pidge’s smartness!! By making my BOYS look like idiots in comparison!!!! Like. Oh my GOD. Yes, I’m so proud of Pidge, and I’m glad that Dreamworks is giving her the genius credit she deserves. But they don’t have to do it at the EXPENSE of their CHARACTERS OF COLOR.

Like here is an alternative to all of those scenes that I just came up with while my ass is flying out of my seat with a fever:

  • Pidge goes on one of her techy tangents. She uses those big ol’ words that are seven syllables long. There’s a moment of silence as everyone stares at her, sweat-dropping.
  • “Okay, so…” Lance says, staring up at the ceiling as he taps his chin in thought. “Are you saying that you’ve like, made a program that tries to predict how much Galra activity there’ll be in an area based on how many showed up to kick our butts?”
  • Pidge blinks, thinks about it for a second, and then nods. “Yeah, pretty much.”

It’s not. Hard! Do you see how easy it is to tweak a scene so a character ISN’T put down, but instead boosted alongside another? Think about all those Fucky scenes!! Pidge, or Coran, or someone starts going on a technological tangent. Instead of making a pointless quip about food, Hunk adds to the idea! He contributes his own knowledge to the conversation!! 

Maybe for a second, Pidge and Hunk get caught up techno babbling to each other!! They’re having fun!! Shiro steps in, almost a little sheepishly. “Uh, guys,” he says, “what exactly are you saying?” Pidge and Hunk turn to him and try to explain, but they’re so excited that they babble over each other, and their conversation becomes even harder to follow. Shiro and Keith stand there, a little intimidated.

And then Lance steps in to translate. Maybe he doesn’t understand the precise mechanics of what they’re saying, but he can still help. You’d think that, after spending MONTHS with Hunk and Pidge, Lance would pick up a little of SOMETHING. Maybe he can’t recite a Wikipedia page about dark matter, but Lance can translate what his friends are saying into Layman’s terms. 

Do you see how helpful that would be for an audience? They get a complex concept explained to them by a down-to-earth, fan-favorite character who won’t be condescending and who will probably turn that boring scientific idea into something funny and easy to understand!! Plus, you know Lance! He could turn some Big Ass Complicated Probably Fake Invention™ into something that can be summarized in five words or less. “It makes the bad guys go boom” or “Oh, so this’ll stall their engines long enough for us to escape?” or even “So you need us to distract them while you set up some sorta microwave that’ll override their sensors. Got it!”

But instead we get… this. Ugh.

Sunny Shades and Popped Color Curtains - Recolors

I have recolored the curtain sets that came with the toddler patch in @wildlyminiaturesandwich‘s neutral and unnatural sandwich colors (55 swatches total). Each curtain has a left and right version.

There are three files, and you only need either the separate recolors or the merged files. The Sunny Shades are the tied back ones, and the Popped Color Curtains are the other set.

Download:

Sunny Shades
Popped Color Curtains
Merged

Enjoy!

Amy trying to convince herself her marriage is ok 

Amy thinking she’s pregnant and freaking out (Jonah freaking out too)

Amy confessing to Jonah that she always thought she’d want another child but not with (her husband)

Amy finally confronting her husband about the fact she’s not happy

10

ezra & kanan vs darth vader in the siege of lothal

All these memes and impatience for Hiveswap to come out and. Like, yeah I get it, it has been a long-ass time, but at the same time. We’ve seen the progress? From when the kickstarter happened, to the first 3D views of what was going on, the whole TheOddGentlemen Fiasco, then the switch to 2D, the first teaser, now this. Even if it has been lightly delayed, it’s not like this is “LUL IT WILL NEVER COME OUT” or anything like that.

Be impatient with you want but like, why treat a game like shit for things like this, that were entirely out of the team’s control? First with the first programming team being a fraud, then having to make a team from scratch, then switching gears, and now just making sure the game is actually GOOD.

It’s like one of those “You can only choose two”, and right now the three options are “It comes out”, “It comes out soon” and “It’s good”. You can’t have quality immediately, and I’m honestly happy we’re even /getting it/ given what development hell it has gone through.

Fly Me Home Grayson

Prompt: one shot of Mar'i Grayson and reader being best friends and reader is a technical genius that help her fight crime.

AN: This was a lot of fun to write. The reader and Mar’i are about 16 or so.

Words: 430


          “You know, most people would have run screaming away the first time you let an energy ball fly from your hand, or shot lasers out of your eyes. But me? What do I do? I go “cool”, and attach myself to you.”

          Mar’i just grins. “Regretting that choice, are we?”

          You scoff, “No, I’m just recognizing the fact that I am not normal, and most likely should have my head examined.”

          “You love me.” She teases.

          You roll your eyes, despite the fact that you know she can’t see it “You’re my best friend, I have to love you. The whole hacking ‘Gotham’s traffic light system, and then disabling private security systems’, that is just a wonderful bonus that comes along with me.”

          She doesn’t answer right away, and you listen to several grunts and screams as she kicks butt. You wait a brief moment and she says, “I’m back. And don’t even pretend like that’s for me. We both know that you get a thrill from hacking every system you can get your hands on and not getting caught.”

          You shrug. “Well a girl can only hack the Pentagon so many times without getting caught before it gets boring. At least helping you stop crime and racing against a clock is somewhat fun.”

          “Somewhat?”

          You grin. “Okay totally fun. Especially the part where we’re keeping it from every adult we know.”

          Mar’i just laughs. “My parents would blow a gasket. Forget the fact that my dad had been in the superhero business for eight years by the time he hit my age, or the fact that my mother had helped lead a coup. No, they want me to be normal.”

          You scoff. “Normal is overrated. That being said, we are going to have to find some new digs. This abandoned house is not cutting it anymore. The roof is starting to leak, and I’m worried about my babies.”

          “You and your computers. Anyways I talked to my uncle Jason and he’s going to set us up with something better.”

          “This is the same uncle that you’ve only met like three times and kills people right?”

          “That’s the one.”

          You nod. “Cool. You almost done?”

          “What do you have a curfew now?”

          “The rents are flying back from Milan. They’ll start to assume I’m doing something I shouldn’t if I’m not there to greet them.”

          “To be fair, they’d be right.”  

          “Yes, but they don’t need to know that. So get your second generation, half alien butt back here and fly me home, Grayson.”

          She just laughs, “On my way.”

I’m Okay: A Theo Raeken Imagine

Request from Anon: Can you do a Theo fic where they are just super in love like super in love and then the reader gets hurt and he thinks she dies for a second but she’s ok

So, I really liked writing this one, so thank you for requesting it even though it did take so long, which I am really sorry about. I know the gif has Tracey in it, but it was appropriate for the imagine. Hope you guys like it x

It was no secret that you and Theo Raeken were in love. 

Which is exactly why it broke his heart when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, wires coming out of you left, right and centre. 

Keeping you alive. 

You had been hurt by one of the Dread Doctors as their way of punishing Theo for getting distracted.

For falling in love. 

Theo’s touch was electric. It was an addiction that you craved, every time his fingers brushed your skin. 

After sex, you would shiver as he drew patterns on your bare hip, or moved his hands up and down your body, starting at your thighs and working his way up your neck to cup your cheek before devouring your mouth with his own. 

You craved each other’s kisses. It didn’t matter where they were placed. You enjoyed the growl you earned from him when you took his earlobe into your mouth, pulling it between your teeth. He was always quick to respond by pinning you down by your wrists, placing gentle kisses on your neck that quickly escalated into hot, open-mouthed bites as his nose trailed up the column of your throat. 

It was moments like this that you two lived for. 

The machines keeping you alive continued to beep.

Theo had always enjoyed listening to your heartbeat, he just didn’t enjoy it when it could mean your death. 

It made him realise how truly lost he would be without you. 

“Come on, Y/N. You gotta wake up.”

You saw Theo walking down the corridor of Beacon Hills High School and your heart stopped. You’d been dating for over a year now, and you still couldn’t quite believe that he was your boyfriend. 

You couldn’t quite believe that he loved you.

You couldn’t stop yourself as you ran at him, jumping into his arms and nuzzling your face into his neck. Inhaling his intoxicating scent, you indulged in the bliss it provided you as he placed a kiss on the top of your hair. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You know you only saw me like three hours ago, right?”

“I remember. You were climbing out of my window.”

You moved your head back to face him, giggling slightly as his nose brushed yours. 

That reminds me,” he said as he gripped the back of your neck. 

He kissed you passionately as you responded with just as much as force, running your hands up his chest. You smiled as you felt his tongue at your bottom lip, eagerly granting him access. 

When you pulled apart, Theo continued to press kisses over your face playfully, not caring who was watching. 

It was moments like this you two lived for. 

The machine started going wild, and Theo felt himself become close to tears when nurses rushed in. 

He couldn’t watch you die. He just couldn’t. 

After what seemed like hours, the machine returned to its regular rhythm, the nurses leaving Theo alone with you once again, seemingly satisfied. 

He sat back down, holding his head in his hands. 

“Theo? Theo, what’s going on?”

He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, a sigh of relief escaping him as he saw that you were awake. He moved closer to you, brushing the hair back from your head in a soothing manner. 

“Hey, it’s okay Y/N. You’re in the hospital. I’m right here. How’re you feeling?”

You tried to laugh. 

“Pretty crap.”

He smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“I thought I was going to lose you. Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”

You smiled as you embraced the concept of Theo being worried about you. 

“I’m okay.”

Attention all Liam stans

I’ve been noticing that Liam stans are in one of the worst situations they’ve ever been in and almost worse than other stans in the fandom specifically because there is such a massive divide.
We are conflicted with the stunts and his promo and so many fucky things going on but I just have a request.

Pick a side.

There’s really only three options for us to believe right now 👇🏻

1. he’s agreeing to all of this and is OK with manipulating us and making us feel terrible and closeting himself and is pretty much being a terrible person.

2. it’s all true and he is with that hoe bag cheryl and again isn’t the Liam we know and he’s just being a dick cause that’s who he is.

3. none of this is his fault and he’s doing the best he can and he’s been closeted for seven years and is just trying to make a solo career with the massive limitations he’s been given and he deserves all our support cause he’s the victim.

IF YOU FALL IN THE FIRST TWO OPTIONS PLEASE JUST LEAVE. it’s ok. Your feelings are valid but for those who believe, like I do, that Liam is suffering then right now HE IS BEING ACTIVELY BOYCOTTED AND ITS NOT OK.

If you don’t like Liam anymore then do something else. Go find another fandom or a different boy to stan. Don’t focus your energy on bringing him down.

we need to band together and support Liam if we believe the 3rd option.
We just do.
Cause essentially he’s truely the victim and it sucks seeing all the stunts. It does and I hate it but seeing Liam not doing well on the charts because of bitter Harry, Zayn, and now Liam stans just breaks my heart.

Be a lover.
Give love.
Choose love.