Vegas – Cody Christian Imagine

Requested: No. It was just an idea I had after seeing Cody’s photos from his Vegas trip.

Warnings: Feeling insecure

Word Count: 2,307

Author’s Note: I know I’ve already done a Cody x Reader are best friends who have feelings for each other but I couldn’t help myself with this one. Feedback is always appreciated :)

[My Teen Wolf Master List]

“Y/N! I’m home!” Cody yelled as he walked into his best friend’s apartment with his key. 

“Crap,” she mumbled under her breath as she quickly grabbed a protein bar and her pre workout drink in the kitchen. She knew what time Cody was coming back from his birthday bash weekend in Vegas and after seeing the pictures he posted on his Instagram, and the ones he privately sent to her, she was hoping she wouldn’t be home when he got back.

Y/N and Cody had been best friends for years, long before Cody’s career as an actor took off. She never thought she had feelings for him in a romantic kind of way until she saw the pictures from this weekend. Cody celebrated his birthday late with the boys around beautiful women who wore small bikinis that showed off their Greek goddess bodies. She didn’t know how else to explain the sudden jealousy or insecure thoughts she had. She tried to fool herself into thinking that she was just worried another girl would swoop in and steal her best friend, but she knew she was lying to herself.

“There you are,” Cody smiled as soon as he saw Y/N in the kitchen. “I called out for you. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get all my stuff because I’m actually on my way out,” she slung her gym bag over her shoulder and ignored the sad look Cody gave her.

“But I just got home,” Cody’s bottom lip pushed forward. Y/N looked at him and wanted to push that bottom lip back in because she knew she would stay if he kept giving her his puppy eyed look.

Keep reading

now that I’ve driven home and had a few minutes to cool off and collect my thoughts, I feel I should explain myself to the people who have been following me and know who i am so I don’t damage my relationship or reputation more than I probably already have.

there was a post that an autistic person I follow made, where he vented about bigotry against autistic people, and ended with a passive aggressive “…janice”. there was another post that a nonbinary person I follow made where they vented about bigotry against gender nonconforming people, and ended with a passive aggressive “…denise”. I’m not 100% sure which was which but I DEFINITELY remember the posts, as well as the profile pictures of the people who posted them. I don’t remember the urls though, and even if I did remember them I wouldn’t list them in case the people who are now harassing and spamming me in my inbox and activity feeds decided to also hop on their [proverbial] dicks as well as mine because they apparently culturally appropriated those post templates, of ending extended rants about various bigots and ending them with names befitting of middle aged suburban soccermoms, karen.

now, when listing people of this demographic, I used to include white among those adjectives. however, there are black middle aged suburban soccermoms, hispanic middle aged suburban soccermoms, and asian middle aged suburban soccermoms, and pretty much people of every race who have the potential to be this type of person the practice strawmans. obviously not every single middle aged suburban parent of children who participate heavily in after school activities is going to be the type of person to scream at retail workers or starbucks baristas or people who cut off their minivans when they’re driving 15 under the speed limit in the left lane. not every single middle aged suburban person is an undeducated bible thumping bigot with their head shoved up their ass. not every one of them is a problematic piece of shit that stands by the #alllivesmatter crew or trump or whatever the republicans are rallying around this week. not even all of the white ones, and there are some people who fit the trope who are not white. I’ve dealt with many of them during my days at target, but I always stood by including white. until recently.

when I learned it made black people uncomfortable when white people made white jokes, I was of course initially hesitant. “that’s fucking stupid!” I though. “I’m not assuaging white guilt by doing this, I’m just finding it in me to laugh at myself”. and then I read a bit more about the subject and figured it isn’t worth the potential heartache if I fought it because in all honesty it kind of makes sense. my mom’s boyfriend’s son is black (and hispanic), and I had once made a white girl joke to my sister in front of him and mom told me later that both he and her boyfriend were uncomfortable with me saying that. after seeing the post that talked about it, and my… slight breakdown where I may have dramatically overreacted… I decided to try and stop with the white people jokes because I want to unlearn all of the racist shit that my dad, stepmom, aunts, uncles, grandparents, former friends, former acquaintances, and society in general that I possibly could, because racism as a concept digs into my skin and fucks me up.

it used to make me absolutely seethe with rage, and I still get a little steamed by it. in fact I once got in a LOT of trouble with my high school sociology student teacher because I got really shitty with her when she- an anthropology student no less- kept calling one kid in our class by his initial because apparently kudsai is just Too Hard™ to pronounce. one day, an off day where I forgot to take my medicine, she called him that and I yelled at her “he has a name, so use it”. granted I didn’t like the kid. I thought he was annoying; loud, obnoxious, constantly making sex jokes while we were studying freud (and even the fucking holocaust), in the choir and the football team… basically like any other cishet teenage boy. but being annoying is no excuse for a teacher to not take five fucking seconds of her day to learn how to say his name right just because it wasn’t franklin or gregory, two of the other black kids who I went to school with. anyone following me as far back as when annie got remade with quvenzhane wallis as the titular role might have read my thoughts on the matter of pronouncing people’s names right. i’m not saying this to pat myself on the back for not being racist, because WOW was I a rough mess of things back then, but I was never like my dad’s side of the family about race. back when michael brown’s death and ferguson were still talked about, I found myself agreeing with rush limbaugh about some of the things he said, so clearly I haven’t been a perfect angel my whole life.

anyway, back to white people jokes making black people feel uncomfortable. I’ve been trying to make myself agree with that, which as anyone who has the syndrome formerly known as aspergers can probably attest to, is hard as shit to do. possible but hard. like, I’m even now still unlearning some acephobia, transphobia, queerphobia, islamophobia, and even though I know the occasional fleeting thoughts that I think are wrong and bad, they still happen very frequently. same goes with various forms of racism and xenophobia. my dad (and former stepdad’s) influences are probably so deep because of various issues with abandonment and abuse that I’m not gonna discuss here, and they’re both absolutely reeking with white supremacist microaggressions. so I’m definitely trying my hardest.

part of that is why I reacted so negatively when people misinterpreted what I said, put words in my mouth, and straight up told me to kill myself in all of these messages that are still flooding in. another part is because I truly do stand by the things that I meant to say, rather than the things that it appears I’ve said. I really do think that it’s unreasonable to say that it’s racist for people who aren’t black to make posts where we vent about various injustices we face from people who are misinformed and ignorant and straight up smarmy condescending assholes and then end it with a passive aggressive name of some baby boomer fuckwit, peggy. because these baby boomer fuckwits come in many colors (black people are still capable of being racist [against hispanic/asian/etc people, not whites, I need to make that abundantly clear], classist, misogynist, queerphobic, ableist, otherwise bigoted prejudiced assholes), and these names that are heralded as “typically white”, like henry or franklin or gregory or harold or penelope or alice or etc, are not exclusively white names. I’ve seen or met black people with names like this and while it’s definitely not the majority (not even close), and it’s definitely partially due to cultural erasure perpetuated by gentrification, it still exists. so it doesn’t make sense to me why the person who wrote the post that started me on this whole sequence of posts about this topic insisted that it was a ‘white people names’ thing. especially when white people names are more like khaeylieghhe or miakkaylia or annedeeye or some other ridiculous bastardisation of english language in order to make your child feel special and unique and end up growing to be a cookie cutter member of the conservative party that tries to take down affirmative action because they feel like it’s reverse discriminatory or some shit. if it was something like that, making fun of those names that are actually like making jokes at the expense of white people [I think I should apologize in advance because technically this counts as a white people joke even if it’s just an example] would make perfect sense. however I have not only seen posts in this template of ending with baby boomer names being used as tools to express their distaste in queerphobia, ableism, classism, xenophobia, and intolerance of other sorts, but I’ve made them before, and it has had not a god damn bit of racial connotation to it at all unless it’s been specifically a black millennial on tumblr venting specifically about a white people-ism, and to make a post that shits on everybody who uses this template to cope if they’re not black, and causes those kids who use it to cope to ask why not, and then get immediately shit on by assholes who treat them just like people are treating me, who tell them that it doesn’t matter if they’re neurodivergent or gay or trans or whatever because they’re being Big Bad Evil Racists™ by ending their rant posts with names like becky, allison.

I don’t care if you’re black. if you treat queer or disabled kids like shit and call them racist when they’re not being racist, no matter what color your skin is, you’re an asshole. and to act like fucking salem massachusetts when confronted with legitimate criticism of your ill-informed unbridled assault of an angry mama bear to queer and disabled kids, is just DISGUSTING. WEAK. and PATHETIC. and only serves to strengthen my points.

so you know what, go ahead. keep sending me your hate anons. keep sending me the smarmy condescension. I can take it. just stop being fucking assholes to my family. your race isn’t something I have any authority over but I won’t let you use it as a weapon to beat people over the head with just because you get high off of the power you get from the veil of anonymity. false accusations of being a tier 6 skinhead is more palatable than telling us to kill ourselves.

anonymous asked:

When I was trying to force myself to be straight I was like "wow my heart is so resilient, it takes me forever to fall in love" but actually I'm just gay and was never gonna fall in love with those boys? And now I have a girlfriend and I feel like I'm pretty much already falling in love with her and it's such a wonderful feeling. I never thought I could feel this and I'm so happy.

There is something incredibly sincere about that moment when your laying in bed right after your alarm goes off. Your conscious mind is not necessarily back in full control yet.

You are nothing but feelings and thought.

It’s only a few seconds long. Maybe a couple of minutes. And before I allow myself to remember what day it is and what needs to get done. I just lie there and fantasize about what I would like to do instead.

Eventually I get up and trudge back into reality. However every day it feels like I’m betraying myself by getting up.

Maybe one day I won’t.

In which Ashi joins me in having late night existential crisis thoughts and feelings and thinking too much about life, existence, what’ll happen after you die, deep heavy stuff like that.

Because, hahaha, I do believe she would have a existential crisis throughout different lives because of that one time she ceased to exist and her soul remembered and didn’t like it one bit.

Secrets Under The New Moon

The darker night is perfect for a bit of confession. Do you have thoughts weighing you down? Feelings that keep pulling you back under? How about we try a spell.

What you will need:
Black candle
A quiet place outside (can be a balcony or even an open window)

Now say these words as you strike the match and light the candle.

With this there is light in the dark
With love I open my heart
With this just a simple spark
With love right at the start.

After that let out all those things that are bothering you. Let them out into the candle. Let it burn away your words.

When you are done blow out the candle so that the smoke trail goes into the sky(out the window) let it take your secrets into the dark.

late night n feeling low thoughts

working on this album for the last year or two feels like I’ve been very slowly and painfully puking up some abominable mutant toad creature. its fucked up, its unlike anything else out and it scares the shit out of me tbh. sometimes i think its the best thing I’ve ever made and sometimes i think its a fucking turd. its been pushing a boulder straight up a very steep hill for the last 2 years. trying to record and mix my own vocals has been such a nightmare. i hate my own voice and trying to mix ur own voice when u hate it is like trying to make nails on a chalk board sound good. i want to quit and go back to making purely instrumental shit so bad. theres basically no other examples what i want to achieve that its really tough to not have a reference to know if what I’m doing even sounds good. but i guess thats also what makes me feel like i need to do it. I’m glad tho that the response to the video i posted has been mostly positive. that gives me hope. especially cuz that track is probably one of the weaker tracks on the new record. i partially choose that one to drop first cuz at least if it was received poorly i could take solace in that the other tracks are stronger. I’m scared to drop those tho and I’m scared 2 drop the album in case people hate it. i hate that i even care what people think about it  or me or whatever but i do. and social media recently hasn’t been helping. always feel like people hate me or don’t fuck with me for whatever reason. i feel very “uncool” around lots of other artists. always feel like theres this special artist social circle that ill just never be in. i know a lot of it is my own fault cuz of my own social anxieties and shit but it still gnaws at my brain as i (impulsively + against my better judgement) watch people’s instagram story videos or whatever the fuck. 

thats all 4 now, thanks for listening

- MG
more than a superfan – Ruchi Gupta – Medium
I‘m thinking a lot about Georgina Callandar, the first named victim of the recent bombing at Manchester Arena in the UK. I didn’t know her…
By Ruchi Gupta

Been struggling with the Manchester bombings a bit more than I thought I might—feels too close to home. Trying to process why, and this came out. It’s a meditation on fandom and loss, and what happens when our safest spaces are destroyed. I hope it resonates for others but if it doesn’t, I hope it is at least taken in the spirit in which it was intended: love, and sorrow for the losses that were suffered this week.

Deleted some stuff because people are nasty. And I dont need more negativity on top of everything else.
Like yeh, you might sit there and be like “I dont know why she doesnt leave instead of whinge if shits that bad” but you obviously are not in my situation. Nor do you know anything about me, my surroundings, my support network, nothing.
If I could leave, DONT YOU THINK I FUCKING WOULD. The amount of times Ive looked into pathways to leave would shock you. If i could I would do something, Instead of sitting here crying day in and day out.
Beating myself up and literally becoming someone I dont even know anymore.

You literally know nothing about me or my situation, even if you think you do because you read a couple of posts on a blog that I use specifically as an OUTLET TO WHINGE and get out my thoughts feelings and struggles! (like fuck its the whole point of this blog you ninkinpoop)

Im going to stop posting.

I dont need another negative unsupportive aspect in my life, especially if I CAN do something about it.
I dont ask for your judgement. I dont even ask for you to follow me or read my posts.
I simply tap/type out how im feeling so i dont have a mental breakdown.

(Ill more than likely be back once I stop being a sensitive little bitch)

Thoughts/feelings/questions about Flash season 3 finale:

Why Savitar got more swag than regular BA?

Why Savitar got better style than BA?

Why Savitar got me feeling bad for his Ass?

Why couldn’t Barry run H.R to the hospital in the 10 minutes he lay there telling the woman he only knew for 3 days he loves her?

Why didn’t anyone else volunteer as tribute to go into the speed force aside from Barry? I’m looking at you Jay. I mean I love you but you lived your life.

Why Caitlin always shooting down Julian when he wants her at her worse? That’s love.

If she aint Killer Frost or Caitlin than What’s her new name?

What was Savitars plan for Jessie ??

What was the wedding date they decided on??? Is Iris gonna have to call all them guests herself to Cancel?

Did Barry record a studio version of RHTY in preparation for the wedding?

I would be down for a Savitar, Barry, Iris love triangle.
Savyy was straight up bitter.
He could’ve DJ'ed he wedding btw.

Are we finally getting a new and improved star labs?? Please.


Long journey of many

I’m still waiting for pain to dull. “It’s just a journey”, I keep telling myself. Its’s like, being in a car. Traveling, with different moods of music. Some giving you strength along the way. Others sending you into tail spins.
I keep driving, alone. Knowing that days will pass with many stops along the way. Continuing while feeling fatigued at times. Grief, can be a long and lonely process. But remember, everyone of us travel the same road in life. “I am not alone.” This highway has traffic. We will all make it out eventually.