this is going to give me a shitstorm if it spreads but

Reggie x Reader: The Best Woman (Epilogue)



ALSO, this story is heavily influenced by the movie, “Love, Rosie” in fact I will be using THE WHOLE WEDDING SPEECH in this chapter.

Plot: The one where everything that mattered remained unsaid.

Originally posted by flyngdream

You had no idea.

You had no idea that you would break Reggie in two when you took those tablets. 

You had no idea he would fall on his knees and would not move for seven hours when he received the call that you’re body was found floating and lifeless in the beach that held nothing but precious untainted memories he cherished. 

You had no idea that everything will turn grey and dull in his world because if he was the Technicolor then you were the sun; colors didn’t matter without the sun. Nothing mattered without the sun.

You had no idea that it would take him three days to eat something and not throw it up hours later as he remembered the red flags he missed in your conversation, six days to stop having reoccurring nightmare of your crying and pale face begging him for help, and three weeks before he would utter another word and that his first word would be your name. 

That he would spend five hours just staring at your final resting place and begging God to turn back time so he can change everything, so that he can kiss you in front of that shitty reception and tell you to stay, so he can dance with you one last time – just a second longer – to a never-ending song, so that he won’t have to lose you and to finally tell you he loved you.

Has loved you for a while now.

He just didn’t know it – realized it a few hours too late.

You had no idea that he would mourn for the rest of his life for the loss he suffered when he lost you; the one constant thing in his life.

You had no idea that even when aged caught up to him and he was frail and weak, he was still walking up to the hill where your grave lies, placing fresh flowers of different kinds – because he may not remember much anymore but he knows you never had a favorite one – on the vase and cleaning up the headstone, repeating the same routine he did every week ever since he lost the love of his life.

You had no idea he loved you too.

Because if you did, this story would be very different and Reggie wouldn’t have to lose the girl who was supposed to find a happier ending with him.

But you didn’t because the two of you weren’t good with words and both of you kept what matters most a secret.

So, Reggie couldn’t do anything but live the rest of his life, counting the days for the ‘another life’ to arrive where he can finally see you again. Where he can finally see your smile and brush your hair away from your face and pick you up just to piss you off.

When that time arrives he swore to himself he will do the right thing and love you the right way. He will be reckless and tell you he loves you, have loved you in that life and in this. He will kiss you and hug you and then kiss you again, planning to keep you safe from the world forever.

And of course, in another life with another ending, he can finally ask you out to prom.

Zach woke up with a start, sweating and breathless as his alarm clock screamed at him.

5:00, it was time for his morning run but he doubts he’d have enough energy for his route after that dream of his.

What the hell was that?

Zach took his running shorts and a random shirt before picking up his gym bag, where his extra outfit and other random school necessities resided, before throwing it to the backseat of his car and jogging along his usual route.

Zach couldn’t help but get confused by his dream. He saw himself and you, only older and different and… sadder. He couldn’t remember everything but he knew you were there and so was he yet somehow you weren’t yourselves – not really.

He didn’t remember much but he knew it was a nightmare.

He knew it didn’t end well and that was what’s fucking him up the most. As he ran and ran, finally turning back around to the direction of his house he could barely remember anything from his dream except the party, your sad stares, the heaviness in his heart, and the word prom.

Why does that word keep repeating in his mind like a broken machine?

Was it because prom was coming up? And the pressure and competition to become prom king and to win the championship was getting to him?

It never bothered him before he wondered what was so different now.

After he showered and got dressed he took his keys and turned on the ignition in his machine. Glancing at his phone to see a text from Justin about practice later this afternoon.

He smirked, already hearing the complaints and screams of their coach when he realized Zach was gonna ditch practice (again) to hang out with you. Justin’s already jealous enough that Zach prefers the to hang out with the ‘other best friend’, as Justin likes to call you since he still can’t accept that he is the side hoe, and this will only add fuel to the flame. Zach couldn’t give two fucks though, the both of you have been planning this since last month and it will take an apocalypse for him to miss it.

He carefully parked and went out of his car to knock on your door. He can hear your voice and your mother’s screams inside before the door opened wide, with your smiling face.

“Well, good morning to you, cupcake, aren’t you just a sight to behold,” he laughed, looking at your unruly hair and breathlessness. “Morning, Mrs. (Y/L/N)! You look lovely today.”

“Morning darling, still a charmer I see,” your mom screamed from the living room.

“Come on, Zachary, stop flirting with my mom.” You joked as you crossed your arms with his, his immediately and unconsciously tightening up to slightly trap yours in it. He laughed loudly as he took your bag from your shoulders.

“You still up for this weekend?” he wiggled his eyebrows knowing it would make you laugh.

“Wouldn’t dare miss it, Zachy.”

Zach opened the door for you, carefully placing your bag beside his at the back before taking his place in the driver seat. As you took the long road to your school, as always, Zach couldn’t help but let his mind wander to his dream.
Everything in it seemed so old yet so familiar that he was almost convinced it was real. He shook his head silently, why were you so sad?

‘ … me out to prom’
‘… prom.’

“What?” Zach gave you a glance to see your confused yet amused face. “You’re muttering like a madman in there, care to share?”

“Nothing,” he tried to play it off. “Just a weird dream I had.”

“Ooooh,” you leaned up to him, getting ready for another one of his weird and ‘symbolic’ visions. “What is it this time?”

Zach chuckled, giving you another small once over, eyes stopping at your eyes and in a split-second he swore it was replaced by the tired, sad eyes he had in his dreams making his heart stop. He blinked furiously and then you were you again. “Couldn’t remember much, to be honest,” he lied, too afraid of what he saw and what it could possibly mean.

You rolled your eyes, knowing all too well when he is lying. “Bet it was a wet dream.”

“Was not!” he defended too quickly making you laugh.

“Whatever, crazy.” That was what Zach loved about you; even after being best friends your whole lives you still didn’t feel entitled to know everything about him.

‘ .. prom.’

He cursed silently. “So, are you going to prom, next week?” Zach tried to give it a shot, hoping the voice will stop.

He clearly caught you off guard when your eyes widened and you shook your head, hooking some strand of hair behind your ears – a nervous habit. “Nah, not my thing.” You scoffed, and Zach knew you were lying. 

He always does. 

“Plus, I wouldn’t let anybody give me more shit for not having any date. Walker would have a field day.”

“… me out to prom.”

“I could be your date.” What?


Zach was flabbergasted, not expecting that to come out of his mouth. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind to be your date because well were friends, right?” Zach tried to defend himself and get himself out of this shitstorm he accidentally created. “And I bet you would look really pretty when you’re done up – NOT that you’re not pretty now but like, okay you’re beautiful—“

“Wait, I’m what?” You asked, confused as your best friend reddened more and more.


“NO! I mean, yes! But I don’t mean it in a romantic way. Not that I would mind being in a relationship with you because well, you are really beautiful and smart and like perfect and we have been friends for a long time now and –“

‘ … prom’

“Zachary Shan-Yung Dempsey, are you confessing to me right now?”


Zach quickly stepped on the break, making the two of you lurch forward and it was so silent that you could literally hear your breathes in the car.

Zach visibly groaned. “Please tell me I didn’t just say that.”

The silence was your answer.

“Please tell me I just didn’t ruin everything.”

“You didn’t,” you quickly reassured him and he felt a thorn on his heart being removed. “You just saved me from confessing to you in the first place so, to be really honest with you, you just made everything better.”

Zach looked at you so quick you could’ve sworn his neck snapped a bit.

“And yes, I would like to go to prom with you,” you continued and as he was about to speak you placed a finger in his mouth.

“On one condition,”

“Please don’t tell me we’re gonna go as friends.”

You laughed and so did he. “Quite the opposite, I’ve always dreamed of going to prom with my first boyfriend.”

Zach smirked. 

“Well, you could’ve waited till I asked you to be my girlfriend first but –“

“If I may remind you it took you 15 years to just confess to me and I would like to speed this shit up.”

Zachary couldn’t help the blush spreading throughout his face but he smirked it away, not wanting to lose this teasing game.“Oooh, are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Don’t make me change my mind, you ass–”

Zach leaned in even further, took your chin with his thumb and pointer finger before giving you a kiss. “I guess being your boyfriend is pretty cool too.”

“You’re damn right it is.”
You mumbled against the lips, nothing tasted as sweet.

Zach laughed, choosing not to let go of your hands as he resumed his driving.

“If only I knew risking a car accident was the only way you’d confess to me I could’ve done it earlier,” you mumbled, laughing a bit by how this day turned out.

“Yeah, yeah let it go,” Zach mumbled, still embarrassed by how his mentally well-planned romantic confession went to hell.

The two of you laughed, unaware that yours was a love story that was written in the stars by two star-crossed lovers that fought life, death, destiny – and any other forces of nature to get the happy ending they both deserved.


“Hmm?” Zach gave you a glance after parking his car, kissing the back of your hands to give the message that he was listening..

“Can you promise me we will not fuck it up?”

“We will,” Zach contradicted causing your brows to furrow. “We will fuck it up a lot – more me than you, to be honest but that’s okay because I can promise you that I will not give up.” You held your breathe afraid of destroying this moment.

“We will keep fucking up and fixing it and that’s what we’ll do that for the rest of our lives, okay?”

You could cry at how mature Zach looked in that moment – at how serious and how genuine and how long term he saw this relationship that you have been dreaming about ever since you discovered love in the form of a boorish and loud seven year old boy in the park.

“Promise me we won’t give up.”
Zach took took your face in his hands, making you look at him.

You smiled, gifting his lips with a small peck, hoping it was enough to tell him how much you loved him.

You were never good with words, anyway.

“Will do, my love.”

Pepperony Week Day Five: Post-Civil War

Pepper had a list hidden away in a secret folder on her computer.  The title was a series of random letters and numbers achieved by closing her eyes and hitting eleven random keys.  Any hacker or burglar would write it off as junk and move on, or so she hoped.  Every couple of days she’d go into the folder and open the single file inside.

Reasons Why I Should Permanently Break Up With Tony

1: He’s completely unreliable.  He can’t shake bad habits and he can’t keep promises.

2: He’s full of himself.  Even when he’s saving people there’s this stink of arrogance like he thinks he’s owed something for it.

3: He hogs the bedsheets at night.

4: His idea of date night is making a Pepper sized suit and racing around the world.

5: David, the deputy director of R&D, is clearly interested in me and is a really sweet guy I’d be lucky to have.

6: He’s never going to stop being Ironman, which means he’s never going to stop risking his life, which means I’ll always have to fear for his life when he’s on missions.  

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Breakfast Special

Summary: Reader reminisces on their first meeting with Negan and everything that happened after that as Negan makes breakfast for a special occasion.

Pairing: Negan x Male Reader

Words: 3003

Warnings: nsfw, swearing, implied smut, slight violence, mentions of blood

Author’s Note: this is for Ash’s third round of Negan writing challenges but it is my first fic being published onto this site. i’m completely comfortable with male on male but I usually do roleplay, not fanfic writing so I hope it’s at least somewhat enjoyable to you!! I ended it where there could be a part two so let me know if you want that, I may write it anyway; I’m not sure. Part two would be mostly smut based, just a warning. ;) let me know what you think and if anyone is interested in being a beta for future fics, please message me because I really need one!! big thank you to @swinging-with-negan and @fuck-yeah-lets-do-negan-ff for keeping me on my shit so I could get this done and huge thanks to @pan-and-proud-writes for beta reading this and helping me out with my mistakes!! Enjoy! :)

Playlist: musical inspiration for writing this fic & good songs for you to listen to while reading it ;)
Gangsta - Kehlani
Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran
Don’t Leave - Snakehips & MØ

Tags: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @negans-network @jdms-network @neganscorner

You wake up just as the sun starts to shine through the curtains, a small groan leaving your lips as you stretch across the bed, noticing the absence of your husband as your hand moves across the empty sheets next to you. Suddenly, your hand hits a rough piece of paper and you pick it up, a grin spreading across your face as you read the sprawled-out words that looked like they were written quickly. Come eat with me. Not many people knew how kind the man could be; he preferred it that way so he could have more power. You didn’t mind either way; you had seen him at his best and at his worst and you still stuck by him. Standing from the bed slowly, you slipped on the pair of bright neon pink boxers that Simon had brought back from a run as a joke but had happened to be the most comfortable pair of boxers you owned. Grabbing a plain white t-shirt from the floor, you slipped it over your head and pushed your hands through your hair, smoothing it down slightly. As soon as you exited the bedroom, the aroma of eggs and bacon filled your nostrils and you practically ran down the steps and into the kitchen, almost bumping into the man you called your husband. His laughed echoed through the room and he wrapped his arms around your waist, a grin pulling at his lips; the same grin that made you fall for him to begin with. “Well good morning to you too, peaches.” He teased, knowing how much you despised that nickname, even though it had begun to grow on you. “Good morning, Negan.” You greeted him quietly, pressing a small kiss to his lips before pulling back and wrapping your arms around his neck.

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Remedy (12)

Bucky x reader

Bucky’s POV.

Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, angst, fluffy, smutty, surgery, a very protective Bucky who knows exactly how to be sweet and careful.


Next part is nice and steamy and even more fluffy, promise :)

Originally posted by enochianess

If anyone were to ask me: ‘what’s the one thing you want most in your life?’, I wouldn’t even have to think twice about my answer. Because the one thing I want, is for Y/N to be okay and happy. Second to that is, that I want her to be happy with me. And for now, she is; but today I woke up with a determination to make her happier.

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apparently sausage party is out today and not only has it already made over $3 million it’s generally got about a 70/100 on various review sites and I wanna give a heads up to anyone thinking about going to see it. I read the script and it is exactly what has been produced. If you read the script you already know how garbage this movie is, but if you haven’t (don’t), here’s a few key points for you:

-all of the food items are racist stereotypes. all of them. the movie opens up with a song specifically pointing out these stereotypes. half of the “jokes” in the movie are based on these stereotypes.

-the other half of the jokes are sexual. not even in a clever or nuanced way, more like middle school level “lol sex” type jokes.

-every other word is fuck I s2g

-there’s literally a point in the movie/script where the only females in the movie are abused so badly by another character that the script doctor literally had to go in and be like “woah hey maybe tone down that violence towards women there friend”

-the above mentioned character is actually the movies Mexican stereotype (a container of guac) who literally says out of his mouth that his whole thing is abusing women. that’s it. that’s his whole character.

-the food has sex. and not just for 30 seconds. for like 5 whole minutes. it’s graphic. a whole montage of disgusting food orgy.

-there’s also a lot of body horror, gore, and vore(? if it’s food being eaten does that count? I’m putting it on the list anyway bc it’s still pretty fucked up) and when I say gore I don’t just mean the food. human beings are also graphically murdered in this movie.

-there’s a rape scene. also beastiality. it’s the same scene. the main villain rapes a rat. (and it gets worse from there somehow)

-the whole thing is a thinly veiled commentary on the “futility” of religion and any people who are religious or believing of God are spineless sheeple living in ignorance.

I could honestly make a point for every minute of this movie, but I think this is more than enough to convince anyone thinking of going to see the movie otherwise. one last comment I would like to make is that I noticed a lot of the people actively supporting the movie are white men, and I believe that’s why it’s getting relatively good reviews. but don’t be misled, the movie is shit.

so if yall could please spread this around so people know what the fuck is up and hopefully don’t waste their time and money on this fucking shitstorm of a movie that would be gr8 👌

tl;dr dont go see sausage party. trust me, you don’t want to see this movie. it’s disgusting (more so than Seth Rogans other movies)

Don’t Craft, Come out

Summary: After receiving the silver play button for DanAndPhilCRAFTS, Dan starts to feel bad that people are subscribing to a channel they will never post on. He makes a deal with Phil that if for some reason the channel reaches 1 million subscribers they will make a very special video.

word count: 1075

warnings: swearing

A/N: Not sure if I love or hate this title. Idk what to categorize this fic. I guess it mostly angst, but not even that. Idk. Don’t mind me just rambling.

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Finding Home

Author: Emma

Characters:Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings:Mild Violence

Author’s Note: This is the first part in a series I’m working on. I’m feeling wildly self conscious lately about my writing so if this fic doesn’t get much activity I’ll probably just scrap it. Also, this was just a quick intro but there will be a whole bunch or fluff, smut, and angst in later chapters. Let me know what y'all think?

Originally posted by morefelton

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anonymous asked:

Can I ask you for some awesome SIM meta about what inverted!Tony's characterization means about normal!Tony? Meta that completely ignores Taylor's interview bs? *begs*

IDK there’s not much I have to say about this? D: Also I’m not super interested in opening myself up to the shitstorm that is blogging about modern comics especially something like SiM…

I mean, one thing I noticed before that made me laugh was the narration box in Mighty Avengers about inverted Tony:

which basically confirms that non-inverted Tony lives his life DRENCHED in guilt. Which delights me (hey I’m Catholic what can I say).

Uuuummm… I mean, SiM just shows Tony is a good guy? You know. Normally. I also think it shows he’s SUPER BAD at being a bad guy. Just based off stuff like how he treats Happy’s kid and whatnot.

Also he’s canonically bisexual because “inverted morality” doesn’t mean “suddenly bi” and yet:

^Tony’s boning dudes. In his bed. Also ladies but ALSO DUDES.

So you know nice. Score. More evidence for bi!Tony. 

Uuummmm what else. Sorry terrible meta but like I said not a ton I really have to say on this… uh SiM Tony is just like. I mean, he’s almost like drunk Tony, ie uninhibited and guilt free. Oh, and SUPER willing to indulge his massive control fucking fetish without checking it like I’m sure Tony always is. Like with the Extremis app tHING, we see SiM Tony basically going all Emperor Stark on the world. All those plans and skills and, let’s be honest, DESIRES to just FUCKING FIX EVERYTHING, EVERYONE SIT DOWN, SHUT UP, I’M GOING TO FIX YOU, is in regular!Tony’s head all the time. He just doesn’t ACT on that SCREAMING NEED TO FIX EVERYTHING (whether you want him to or not) because, you know. Morals and free will and all that. A lot of Tony’s lowest points canonically have been him giving into that screaming voice to assert control and FIX, even when it was unwanted: Armor Wars, the Cap & IM ‘98 annual, Civil War, Hickmanvengers, &c. And, funnily enough, those were the EXACT TIMES that brought him into conflict with Steve, AKA 99-times-out-of-100 Marvel universe’s go-to “this is the correct morality, guys” guy. AKA “no stop people have free will” guy.

SIM!Tony is just as smart as regular!Tony, but a lot less willing to give any shits about people’s free will/free choice. And SIM!Tony and regular!Tony obviously both share pathological needs to control everything, and pathological fears of just… letting things GO.

Man, AA must be fucking hell for Tony. Prayer of Serenity? Fuck that shit. It’s incredible that regular!Tony actually manages to live like that/live by that. Or at least try. I guess SIM!Tony actually goes to show exactly how MUCH of a good person regular!Tony is. Because SIM!Tony didn’t invert Tony’s a.) intellect, b.) compulsions/control issues, c.) basic desires. What SIM did was reverse MORALITY. Clearly Tony’s morality is what keeps him from doing… exactly what he does in SIM. Except normal!Tony would have done something like ACTUALLY given away Extremis for free. To the whole world. And then fired up the dyson sphere and strapped himself in and kept any aliens ever from hurting earth ever again. Because this is the shit that Tony fantasizes about at night, but won’t let himself do, because free will and all that shit. People gotta make their own choices, blah blah blah, ALRIGHT STEVE I GET IT I WON’T FIX THE WORLD DAMN IT. So yeah, inverted Tony let him actually do those things. And did them for selfish reasons like spreading chaos, making slaves, and making money, because, again: evil.

Okay so there I think that’s a. Kinda worthwhile meta? Little bit??? D: I got there eventually? Hahaa anyway yeah sorry that’s about all I can think to say on this.

….canonically bisexual, people. CANONICALLY. okay i’m out.

Correcting Bad Husbandry:

Okay fishblr. Not gonna lie, this subject really pisses me off frustrates me. So I’m going to skip the censoring here because I’m no longer able to stay calm while discussing this after reading some of the comments and posts on the subject that have been going on in light of the recent discussion.

If you CANNOT speak to the owners of poorly treated fish in a way that caters to the owner’s feelings, you have no business whatsoever addressing the subject.

It. Does. NOT. MATTER what you think about the fish’s owner, or how you feel, or how you think you’re coming off, or how you think that person should handle the things you say. It doesn’t matter even REMOTELY.

What matters is how the owner of that fish responds to you.

I don’t care if you think they need to be responsible and learn how to deal with the real world. I don’t care if they’re being childish and ridiculous. Maybe they are super young. Maybe they have mood disorders or something that gives them a legitimate excuse to be touchy about things and deal with people poorly. Maybe they’re just an idiot.

But you know what?

THAT DOES NOT MATTER. You still have no excuse to be anything but exceptionally gentle and kind and polite with those people.

WHY? Because THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD THAT CAN HELP THAT FISH IS THEIR OWNER.  You are talking to them over the INTERNET. So that means your only sway over them is in talking to them and convincing them of your side. Nothing more.

And it doesn’t matter if you are actually being rude or if they just perceive your words as being rude. NO ONE listens to someone that is rude to them, who makes them feel attacked, or, yes, PUBLICLY HUMILIATED.

These people might know better. But more often than not, they don’t. They think they are doing the right thing. They genuinely care about their fish and are doing exactly what whatever random petstore employee told them to do because that’s the best they know. If you politely, gently correct them they might respond positively.

BUT, if you are not polite, they will almost certainly get angry and defensive. They will feel attacked. And their followers, anyone else who doesn’t know better and believes all those fish keeping myths, will come to defend them.

And do you know what that accomplishes? Your husbandry information gets spread, but rather than coming off as a helpful, knowledgeable, and responsible pet owner, you come off as some pretentious ASSHOLE on the internet telling other people what to do. So everyone ignores and discounts your information and the fish stays in its shitty bowl. The fish keeping myths get confirmed in their minds by the massive amount of support they get from the people defending them, rather than dispelled by your post as you intended.


We as a whole, all of fishblr, need to get rid of this. Toss your pride aside. If you are going to try to be an animal advocate, you need to do everything you can for the best of the animal. Which includes sucking it up and catering to the feelings of another human being who is doing wrong by their animals.

If you continue to ignore this, and treat neglected fish’s owners however the hell you want, you are an ASSHOLE. You are actively hurting that fish. You are putting your pride and your beliefs before the needs of the animal. Because yes, all those bettas need space and filters and heaters, but they also need YOU to NOT BE AN ASSHOLE to their OWNERS so that their OWNERS, who have the ACTUAL PHYSICAL CAPACITY to make the necessary changes, can give them all those other things that they need.

This shouldn’t have to be said so many times. But if the need keeps presenting itself, I’ll be that person. I’ll bitch and nag and never post anything again but angry posts if I have to. Because I genuinely care about animals, much more than my pride. So I’ll give up any good standing I have in this community if it means getting it though the heads of those still too stubborn and prideful to do what they need to to actually make a difference in the lives of the animals they want to help.

Polychromatic Cognisance (johnkat)

Set in the Jockat AU verse.

It started with Nepeta waving a pamphlet under your nose for the school’s fundraising carnival. It somehow ended with a god blasted kissing booth. A god blasted kissing booth with you in it.

You don’t remember, exactly, what happened for shit to get so thoroughly stirred into this fuckery, but goddamn if your life isn’t the saggiest sphincter dribbling a sad, pungent trail of bad choices all around.

Dave holds a tube under your nose. Or rather, he sort of flourishes it in your face and nearly lodges it up your left nostril. “Chapstick,” he says. “You’re going to need it.”

You make a face at it. “If that is the same stick of erect vaseline I’ve seen you slather all over your cock pocket then thanks, but no thanks. I’ve seen you deep throat that thing with abandon.”

“Not the time to worry about second hand kisses here, casanova,” he uses the chapstick to gesture at a crowd of people, predominantly female, crowded behind the red rope and brandishing freshly purchased tickets in your general direction. “These ladies are buying hard sugar and you’re a shapely hunk of rock candy, so pucker up those bad boys and get dealin’.”



“How did my life come to this?”

“When you grew out of smol angry gnome and advanced right into strangely attractive emo orc, not to mention captain of the varsity team. Beauty is pain, man.” 

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Caryl is going to happen

Or not.

So how about we all stop complaining, spreading negativity and getting upset everytime new spoiler is up. At least let’s wait and see ep befeore startinf shitstorms.
I know it is all fu***d up, but what we’re gonna do about it? Writers won’t hear us in any way, like they always do.
So we all need to relax. Caryl is something real and it is visible in the NR and MMB eyes everytime they share screen. And this won’t be  spoiled by bad writing, because emotions that they portray are so strong that almost palpable. If they want to keep story like it is now, by giving us teeny tiny bits of something three times a season, let’s be happy for those treasured moments, that are even more cherished that way. Because they could instead give us nothing. But now,  every bit they’re giving us, every single scene they have reassures me that Cary is fine. And since Carol and Daryl are alive, the ship is not and won’t be sunk.

And the whole Tobin issue… Well when I feel bitter about him being distraction/boyfriend/sex partner/whatever for Carol, I just watch Carol and Daryl moments. And when Daryl looks at her like that:

Or when I see this:

or this:

I forget all about that boring gummy bear-faced Tobin. I’m sure Carol does too.

anonymous asked:

im having pretty bad doubts rn do you have any advice?

(this isn’t about you, but i’m just going to address a couple of things real quick.) i’m just going to answer this once, because i’ve had a few people message me about why they’re doubting, etc, etc. and i don’t really want to stress other people out so i’m not going to publish those. you can feel free to rant to me and i’ll read it. or you can message me off-anon and we can always have a conversation about it. i promise i’m really not intimidating and i’ve got lots and lots of bad jokes to cheer you up if need be.

i’m gonna put this under a read more so you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to because it’s long and this is going to be the last time i talk about douis tonight, because i think there’s been enough stress caused and i don’t really want to make things worse for anyone ):

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Fic: We Can Dance if We Want To (We’ve Got All Your Life and Mine)

Kabby Week - Day 7

Anything Goes

Fandom: The 100

Pairings: Kabby, Linctavia (because I will have Lincoln alive in my fic if I want to, damn it!), Javen, bit of Bellarke, bit of Briller, mention of Monty/Harper (I don’t know that ship name.)

Word Count: 2949

(A/N: So here is the long promised Arkadia party fic. Or well, half of it. I had hoped to have it all done by the end of Kabby week, but there’s still a little bit to be done in some sections. You’ll understand what I mean by sections when you read it. There are a couple of pairings here, and unfortunately this one’s a bit Kabby-light, but I promise there will be a lot more of them when I post the rest of this. Okay, that’s it, have fun!)


Raven was holding her ground. She wouldn’t give an inch. Jasper and Monty flanked her on both sides. They were ready to go down swinging, if that’s what it took.

“Seriously?” One of their opponents raised an eyebrow.

“Raven…” The other began in a slightly resigned, worried tone.

“Look,” Raven regarded Abby and Kane stood in front of her. Abby looked concerned about the whole idea, Kane looked… Well, Kane actually looked intrigued. “This was a formality, you know. We’re totally going to do it anyway.”

“Yup!” Jasper piped up behind her.

“People need something to feel good about, have fun. Even if it’s just for one night.” Monty stood slightly behind herself and Jasper. As if he thought if the Chancellors started shouting he had better chances of escape.

“And you think a party is the way to go?” Kane asked. He sounded an odd mix of dubious yet encouraging. Raven could imagine him currently arguing with himself, like ‘Chancellor Kane’ vs ‘nice-guy Marcus.’

“Everything down here has been one shitstorm after another. Abby, Clarke’s totally for this.” That was a lie, she hadn’t run the idea by Clarke yet. But Raven would tell Nate, and the two of them could convince Bellamy, who in turn would have no problem convincing Clarke. Since the ALIE thing, they lived in each other’s pockets now. Anyway, she’d said the magic words. If Clarke thought it would be fun, her mother would be loathe stand in the way of that. After everything.

Raven watched as Abby looked up to Kane and was kind of mesmerised by the short silent conversation that took place. Kane’s eyes flicked to the bandages on his wrists, so quickly most would’ve never caught it. But Abby did because she was Abby, and Raven did because she was staring intently. Kane had a small frown on his face, then minutely shook his head, as if to clear it.

Then he smiled at Abby, eyebrows raised (though she would deny it, the phrase excited puppy rolled around Raven’s head, as she was sure it did Abby’s) and she rolled her eyes, suppressing her own smile then, as she looked at Kane adoringly. Ugh, they were disgusting.

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anonymous asked:

Have you ever thought about Model AU, with Enjolras as a designer, ex model who didn't like how the industry treated not conventional models and diferent body types so he starts to design all kind of high couture fashion from Bahorel to trans Jehan, and almost all of les amis are kinda new models except from grantaire who never believed he had the body or face to be one (but still know poses and damn he has attitude) and turned into an agent, but Enjolras doesn't care and he design for r too and


Enjolras had liked the business right when he entered it. Most people here were pretty open, probably because the business thrived on those who were creative, openminded and weren’t scared to think differently. It was a welcoming place, or so he’d thought.

Of course it had been naïve to believe that an industry built in beauty standards would welcome all sorts. You had to fit their carefully crafted little sack of mindless beauties that didn’t ask questions, and as a new model that was a slap in the face to most people. Some decided to go with it, others didn’t. Enjolras didn’t.

Enjolras rebelled loudly. Enjolras screamed himself hoarse, yelling at the photographers, at the models, at the designers, at the sky, at anyone who would or wouldn’t listen, and most people wouldn’t. He was furious, seething, that no one would design for those who didn’t fit the norm. They had a responsibility and none of the people cared. It was all about making money to them.

So he did what any sane, well-reflected, righteous saint of justice would do. He invested every penny he had ever saved up in starting his own label. In the beginning things were slow. Then everything went to shit and he almost closed. He’d thought it an accident when he got his first private order. He hadn’t loved it in the beginning. He didn’t want to do special-orders for a living, he wanted to make a label that would change the way people saw fashion. He wanted to make clothes that would fit the people who usually had to scour a million shops to find something remotely pretty to dress their perfectly imperfect bodies in.

But he’d done it. He’d made the dress, he’d put so much work into making it perfect. And then it hit Tumblr. And then it hit Buzzfeed. And then it hit basically any major news media, and the shitstorm begun.
Good thing Enjolras thrived in chaos, because if he hadn’t he would have burned himself out in mere days. His friends were worried, but then again, his friends were pretty amazing, so of course they worried.
He had Courfeyrac, one of his friends from the business, one of the models who’d kept talking about the problems although it wasn’t popular. With Courfeyrac’s sunshine smile and winning personality people didn’t really sanction him for making a row for very long. He was a good ally. He had Combeferre, who besides being a model, also managed the economics parts of this for ham. He’d even come up with the name. Les Amis de l’ABC, a wordplay on the French word abaissés, but also the fact that they were just the beginning.

He had Grantaire, who he fought with close to constantly, ever the devil’s advocate, but also a brilliant photographer. Grantaire supported him, but he didn’t support the cause, not in the way you’d think. He did a lot of other photographer-work for labels less socially conscious than Enjolras, and he often preached that maybe Enjolras should make another line, one of the more boring, standard lines, so other people might see their work and want to own it too. Enjolras refused. Grantaire was being annoying, and more often than not they ended up yelling at each other when Enjolras joined a photoshoot because of some off-hand comment Grantaire had made.

The shoot with Bahorel went well-enough. He was close to fitting the standard. Not close enough that a lot of other labels wanted him, but close enough that Grantaire didn’t have much to criticize. Besides they were friends. Enjolras had never really figured out if they were anything beyond that, a fact which annoyed him immensely but that he could never mention to anyone, lest they insinuated that he was a gossip, and he most certain wasn’t. It had nothing to do with that.

Then the shoot with Jehan hit. Another good friend of Grantaire’s, who obviously wasn’t hurt by the comment Grantaire made, as they all knew that Grantaire adored Jehan to bits. None the less, Enjolras took the bait, as he always did, and another screaming match ensued.

“Do you honestly think that this will make the homogenous masses that control our market see all of us any differently?! Do you think they’ll change their minds, Enjolras, because if you do you must be one of the stupidest guys I have ever laid my eyes upon!” Grantaire yelled after about 15 minutes of fighting in which he had baited Enjolras enough to make the leader snap and call him bigoted. One of the only things that could really get Grantaire going.

The leader snorted loudly, pushing his golden locks away from his forehead and stared at the photographer angrily. “I don’t care what they think, Grantaire! I care that people like Jehan can find the clothes they need, can dress in whatever they want, and can do that without feeling like freaks! Like they have something to be ashamed of! Like they need to change themselves to fit some stupid ideals of conformity - why don’t you?”

Inky curls ripped through the air when Grantaire spun around, and Enjolras momentarily lost his breath, the way the long hair that was usually caught in a pony-tail, loosened while he was working and now by his anger. “You know what, Enjolras, I’m so done with your shit, if you’re going to do nothing but criticize me, I’m fucking quitting. You’re welcome, by the way, who the fuck do you think spread your stupid shit on Tumblr, huh?” he hissed, and Enjolras felt his face go slack in shock as the artist stomped away angrily. 

Jehan’s head turned to follow his steps, being shaken slowly. Enjolras almost crumbled under the reproachful glance he was sent and bit his lip. “Is he very angry?”

Jehan’s eyeroll was answer enough. “You’re an idiot. You’re a talented idiot, but you’re an idiot.”

Enjolras tugged thinkingly on a stray lock of his blonde hair, walking over to Jehan and making some small changes to the dress before looking up at his friend. “Should I go after him?”

“Well duh.”

A sigh. “Am I that bad?”

“You know how he feels about you.”


“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dumb as a light-post. I thought you’d… fuck. Just go and say you’re sorry.”

And then Enjolras sprinted off, not even saying goodbye, as his heart was racing and his brain finally, after two years, got all the pieces to fit. And how wonderfully they fit.

anonymous asked:

I just want to thank you for stepping up about this. You are handling this like any adult should, owning up to their actions and trying to move forward. I'm the one going through the old WhaChows and cataloging the abuse so I have heard some of the things you've spoken about. Thank you for trying to make things right in any way you could even after all these years. As a third party, it strengthens my respect I have for you, despite the things you did, since you are coming out now and trying.

I’ll literally be 28 in a week. I was living at home, an 18 year old right out of highschool, when I joined fb20xl. 10 long years ago. And I made friends, I got popular, I rode the waves. I bought into the hype, and I sat in Psy’s lap and showered him in adoration like a lap dog because, as fellow ex-fb20xl member Meta put it: “Psy was good to me”.

He was good to a lot of us guys. But we weren’t women, so though he groomed us, it was for different reasons. Honestly, Psy’s never done a single thing to act against me. I have a fanbase BECAUSE of Psy. I roomed with him at Otakon 2005, I was given money, I called him every Easter for years. And though I hazed myself out of his group and drifted into obscurity, I had left on good terms with Psy. There was absolutely no reason for me to look back or speak up.

….Except there IS a reason to speak up. I made excuses. I watched him torment women, use them as objects, tear down their psyches. Some of them were girls who I later pursued for some kind of relationship, but I think many have said it perfectly, Psy breaks women down until they believe that they are trash.

I would sit on the phone with one of the women who he had used, an AMAZING artist named Mausy, as she cried and cried for MONTHS over this guy, needing to talk her out of self-harm due to her guilt and sorrow over breaking up with Psy. And I still was friends with him, by his side through shitstorm after shitstorm.

And I even joined in on certain attacks. I remember tumblr user smellstine and how she was at odds with damned near EVERYONE in Psy’s group back then. The flamewars that started, how heated and angry I was over something I wasn’t even a part of. But I remember Psy perving on her, talking about wanting to hook up with her at a con, how awkward it was for those at the con to see Psy meander about and attempt to drag this poor girl into the sack with him.

I remember how mad, furious, and angry I was when Sunshine faked her death online just to get away. But looking back, though it was kind of tactless it did help her get away from Psy for good.

And though the age gap between us was vastly different when compared with Psy, I am perfectly guilty of oversexualizing and making inappropriate comments to some of the girls, even YOUNGER girls, that were involved with Psy. One in particular that I was called out on by smellstine I have gone to personally to make amends.

It might have been almost 10 years ago but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize. I’ve been seeking out a LOT of people from that time period to try and patch things up, bring about positive closure.

But that’s the difference between myself and Psy. Someone calls my name and accuses me of something, I go and I accept the consequences of my actions. I was young. I was stupid. I was in an environment where thanks to Psy’s grooming, I thought that what I was doing was funny, cute, acceptable. But Psy or No Psy, it was all on me, and I will work to make things right.

But if someone calls PSY out, well then he makes empty threats about taking legal action and he calls his withering masses to gather around him as a shield, like a horde of locusts drawn on the light coming off their falsh prophet. He cries out to people within the fandoms he frequents and tries to get actual successful people to back him up based on whatever drivel Psy can feed them.

There’s two sides to every story, yes, but guess what. Psy is giving people his ONE side, not the 20+ sides that have come to light over the last few days.

As I said when I began this rant, I’ll be 28 in a week. My father was 28 when I was born, my mother 25. My wife is 24. Somewhere down the line, I am GOING to have children. And god willing that I have a daughter, I want her to look back and see that I could admit I was wrong. That I spread the word, BECAUSE it was difficult to do so, in order to make sure that people like Psyguy who prey on young girls get outed. I want to make sure that more women don’t suffer like the women I know have suffered. 

I’m not a hero for speaking up. But I AM trying to make amends by doing the right thing. I had information to add, ways to validate these women, and a way to try and help give back. This isn’t about “slandering Psy”, this is about these brave women who went through hell and who are trying to finally break the silence after SO long. Some of them suffered more than others, but their stories are what need to be heard regardless of the severity. 

As I’ve said, all the evidence is there in the testimonies, the old comics, the Wha-Chows, in-between the lines of the last 10+ years. Pieces of a story that is quickly piecing together to form a much bigger picture, a painting illustrating years of abuse, pedophilia, heartbreak and hopefully now…..healing.