this has been glorious

imagine jim secretly learning spock’s first name. he almost drives nyota mad in the process because he can’t get his tongue around the syllables at all. eventually he’s able to pronounce it and oh so casually drops it into conversation with spock (on the bridge, of course, because lord knows jim loves an audience). spock says nothing to acknowledge that he’s even noticed, and only those working near his station would see that his face is bright green for at least an hour afterwards.

4

Emma, Regina, Red and Belle from OUAT in Disney style

I get excited when I manage to catch the likeness! That’s the easy part - it takes way longer to draw all the princess hair, ho boy.

8

Happy 42nd birthday, Zach Braff!
April 6, 1975

Being old enough to have watched the L word in real time, I thought I had heard and seen it all in the world lezzie pop culture. I was wrong. So wrong. This absolute fucking treasure and glorious piece of art has been flying under my radar for years! I encourage you all to check it out. It is magnificent! True art I tell you!

Follow the vimeo link below and experience the hilarity of:

Lesbian National Parks and Services: A Force of Nature

by Shawna Dempsey and Lorri Millan, Canadian performance artists.

Lesbian National Parks and Services: A Force of Nature follows the intrepid Lesbian Rangers as they patrol, educate, and illustrate lesbian survival skills. This documentary about the Force archly parodies the so-called objectivity of educational films, while playfully recasting the wilds from a lesbian perspective, calling into question prevalent notions of nature and normalcy. Scenes from tours-of-duty in the Arctic, Banff, Australia and Manitoba are interwoven with interviews, in a style reminiscent of National Film Board documentaries of the 1960s. From Junior Ranger boot camp to the perils of a deep-sea rescue, this valiant team roves the world, asking, “What is natural?” while serving and servicing the lesbian wilds.

https://vimeo.com/132492078

thanks @geologick for spreading the good word! 

10

Choosing the person you want to share your life with is one of the most important decisions any of us makes. Ever. Because when it’s wrong, it turns your life to grey. And sometimes, sometimes you don’t even notice until you wake up one morning, and realize years have gone by. We both know about that one, Alex. Your friendship has brought glorious technicolor to my life. It’s been there in the darkest of times, and I am the luckiest person alive for that gift. I hope I didn’t take it for granted. I think maybe I did, because sometimes you don’t see that the best thing that’s ever happened to you is sitting there, right under your nose. But that’s fine too. It really is. Because I’ve realized that no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, or who you’re with…

Did Furuta call Matsuri a“Homo” like a fifth-grader throwing a tantrum

because Matsuri had hit him while he was making an escape?

Omg seriously fruit-chan? 😂 😂

Matsuri’s reaction: 

His face reads “That asshole”. Lmao I just can’t. 😂😂


2) Meanwhile. Ishida is a next-tier genius.
Hide’s “xロ” aka ‘No mouth’ speech bubble in his infamous comeback scene:

fuses in so well with Ishi’s knack of pooping foreshadowing hints everywhere. Because Hide is speaking to Urie here… And who do we know of that is associated with having “No mouth/xロ ”? 

Yeap. Kuki sexy hunklord Urie. 

Like Urie literally encapsulates “xロ” with tape crossed over his lips on the Cover of Vol 10. 


3) Another fluid transition by the God himself Ishida-san is when Marude called Hide ‘Mr Terrorist’… 

It corresponds with the other famous terrorist scene by the um, none other than Urie again lol. 

We also have the other little terrorist in the making. AKA Saiko Yonebayashi my queen wife daughter bestfriend all-round precious potato. 

(I’m hoping this terrorist casual name-dropping doesn’t put me on the FBI watchlist OMG if u’re spying on this I’m talking about a fictional manga just a heads up, nothing for u to investigate here) 

Uh yea, where was I? Oh right. The tiny cutie who instigated & gave Urie the little push (Saiko kinda had to pull some karate body-flip moves on him) to encourage Urie to take the course of action he had covertly wanted all along :) This is where he begins to slowly shed his ‘no-mouth’ syndrome. And where ‘no-mouth’ kinda intersects with terrorism here. 

Likewise, Saiko my glorious little potato has always been thought of to be associated with Scarecrow by loads of people. Ya know, with the gaming symbols & all. Many great Scarecrow/Saiko metas & theories out there. Like IShida has planned everything and converged these different elements beautifully. 

I’m so excited by the potential badass team if* & when Urie & Saiko team up with Hide. I can’t contain my excitement!!

P.S. So Hide has literally been hide-ing all this time. (lol ok not original but come on XD) 

i hate you, (but of course) i love you

pairing: jeon jungkook | reader
genre:
exes au / fluff with a dash of angst
warnings:
alcohol mention & cursing
word count:
10,049
description:
waking up hungover is bad enough, but considering jungkook’s record of drunken mishaps, his worst (and best) experience is being handcuffed to his ex, Y/N.
author’s note: let me just say a huge thank you to @tendershepherd for reading this over and always encouraging my endless amount of jungkook ideas that i’m slowly starting to write <3

Originally posted by sooyoungspark


With light filtering between the half-drawn blinds, Jungkook’s brain has already begun the process in waking him from glorious slumber. Summer time has always been a blessing and curse because with far too much freedom in those three months without homework or group projects, he’s left with nothing but to indulge in random festivities with his friends that only leave him hungover or even more exhausted than his body can keep up with. And yet, the moment his body is sure it’s awake, he feels a pounding from the confines of his skull. This telltale sign is more than enough to tell him what he did, though the moment he tries to turn over, there’s a tug of tension at his wrist. Sirens are ringing in his head, and it isn’t just from his brain enacting revenge for last night’s stupidity. Worst of all, from the warmth of soft flesh beside him, he’s certain that he’s not the only one in the bed.

Fuckfuckfuck, he repeats like his own personal mantra. It offers no comfort, of course, but he slowly eases himself into turning toward his partner. The words still echo in his mind as he does so.

His head is still pounding, but his own breath catches halfway past his lips as soon as he realizes who’s in his bed—Y/N.

From the tufts of hair peeking out of his light blue comforter, the unruly locks that never seemed to obey even when you tried your best to tame it, to the way you snuggled deep into the plush comfort of the mattress. He used to swear you only loved him for that damn thing, and yet that was exactly two months ago. He still knows Y/N better than anyone who’s slept in this bed with him—the number itself is still pretty small—he just can’t help the panic that seems to cross his mind.

Did we…?

Keep reading

8

Choosing the person that you want to share your life with is one of the most important decisions any of us makes. Ever. Because when it’s wrong, it turns your life to grey. And sometimes, sometimes you don’t even notice until you wake up one morning, and realize years have gone by. We both know about that one, Alex. Your friendship has brought glorious technicolor to my life. It’s been there even in the darkest of times, and I am the luckiest person alive for that gift. I hope I didn’t take it for granted. I think maybe I did, because sometimes you don’t see that the best thing that’s ever happened to you is sitting there, right under your nose. But that’s fine too. It really is. Because I’ve realized that no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, or who you’re with, I will always, honestly, truly, completely, love you.

                                                                                                                 -Love, Rosie.

She wakes, and she’s not startled to find herself in a strange bed.  There’s no moment of sleep-bleared confusion, no profound moment where the events of the night before come flooding back in some vivid rush; this isn’t one of Varric’s stories, after all.  She simply wakes, and breathes, and he is there beside her; and it’s hard to imagine that it hasn’t always been this way.

He looks like a stranger, dappled by the warm dawn light that spills across the bed, but there’s little surprise in that, either.  She lies beside him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he dozes peacefully, and for the moment he’s not Commander Cullen, but something softer, something untouched.  His face, slack in sleep, looks impossibly young, a time-travel glimpse into some part of his life before, before the weight of duty etched lines into his brow and carved hollow circles beneath his eyes.  His hair has been mussed into a glorious halo of bedhead overnight, separated into a mess of golden ringlets that spill across the pillow, and she smiles as she reaches out to gently run her fingers through one of the curls. This man truly is a stranger, so different from the carefully ordered Commander that she knows by day.

For a moment, she’s afraid to even breathe, reluctant to risk waking him.  When he wakes, whatever magic the dawn light weaves will be broken, and he will become Commander Cullen again.

She likes Commander Cullen immensely … but Maker, she loves this man.  This man who, somewhere halfway to the bed, sent some piece of armor or another crashing to the floor and let the weight of the world slip unnoticed with it, sliding gently from his shoulders to pool like fallen velvet on the rug.  She loves this Cullen, fiercely and beyond all reason, this man who held her through the night with such unabashed wonder, such quiet and profound joy, that it was easy to forget that he’d ever been anything else but this, soft and new.

She can hear activity begin to stir beyond the broken ceiling, and she knows she should get out of bed, begin the task of dressing and preparing for her day.  Slip out before she’s seen, out of some wistful desire to keep this theirs for another day or two more before Skyhold’s prodigious rumor mill inevitably gets hold of it.

But Maker, a moment like this feels too rare and precious to step away from.  A gift she somehow can’t believe that she’s been given, in simply seeing him soft-eyed and smiling in his sleep.

She stays.  And when he wakes, there’s no moment of confusion, no alarm at finding someone in his bed.  There’s simply the crook of a sleepy smile as he turns his face into the pillow, a single amber eye peeking out from the tangle of his curls, a soft murmur of greeting.

She stays, and reaches for his hand, carefully threading her fingers with his; an anchor, as he drifts through this gentle liminal space, back to himself.  

She stays, until he is her Commander again.

8

Alex, your friendship has brought glorious technicolor to my life, it’s been there even in the darkest of times and I am the luckiest person alive for that gift. I hope I didn’t take it for granted, I think maybe I did. Because sometimes you don’t see that the best thing that’s ever happened to you is sitting there, right under your nose. But it’s fine, too. Because I’ve realized that no matter where you are or what you’re doing or who you’re with I will always, honestly, truly, completely love you.

Anton Walbrook, on stage in the early 1930s.