There once was a group with Liam and Niall
Vas Happenin’ boys? Vas Happenin’ boys?
They lived with Zayn and their room was vile
Vas Happenin’ boys? Vas Happenin’ boys?
Did you know Harry’s such a slob?
He needs to win X Factor ‘cause he can’t get a job
And, oh, Louis needs a boat
He dresses like he owns one
'Cause he’s got no other clothes
They really need your vote
Vas Happenin’ boys? Vas Happenin’ boys?
(Vas Happenin’ boys?)
Mick Jagger could be Harry’s dad
Vas Happenin’ mum? Vas Happenin’ Mick?
When Liam sings he makes his face look sad
Vas Happenin’ song? Vas Happenin’ sad?
And Zayn’s the master of echoes (echo, echo, echo)
And Niall was raised by leprechauns so he won’t ever grow
And, oh, Louis needs that boat
He dresses like he owns one
And it’s becoming a joke
They really need your vote
Vas Happenin’ boys? Vas Happenin’ boys?
Vas Happenin’ boys? Vas Happenin’ boys?
Vas Happenin’ boys? Vas Happenin’ boys?

don’t reblo-g please. you can quote me, but this is something very personal.
this is me retyping what I’m gonna link to when people ask me why I like kevin. here we go:
I like kevin because I know that he is awful– and let me finish. I know what he’s done. and I’m NOT here to make excuses and say why he wasn’t as bad as he could’ve been. he’s an asshole!! he’s like, really and truly vile. I know that. I fully acknowledge that. I always have.
but the reason I like him is that I want for him to be better.
I’ve been abused and emotionally manipulated amongst other things by people very dear to me, and it’s messed with my head to this day! it’s a big thing in my life that oftentimes makes me miserable and unsure of who I am and who I can trust! and my interest towards him literally stems from a place that just makes me want to root for him and be better than the people that hurt me in the first place. that’s why I post about him like I do.
I project onto him. I think about ways in which he could be better. I take a lot of comfort in it. he’s been my biggest comfort character since literally march of 2015 that’s a lot of time for me to have sat and thought on this. especially with little to no input from many other people until now cuz let’s face it. everyone forgot about him till beach city drift. do you know how exciting it was for me to see him show up again? and do you know how much it hurts me when people tell me I’m a terrible person for clinging onto him? this is literally something I use to deal with my mental health and make me happy on a daily basis.
I don’t really remember when or how he became so important to me, but the fact is that he is now (and like yeah, him being attractive is a nice bonus but still not the root of why I enjoy him as a character)
I get people are uncomfortable with him. I totally get why. it’s justified. if you don’t like it, you can just unfollow me. it’s cool. but just know that this is something very important to me and has been for a long time. just leave me alone about it.
(again, please do-n’t reblog. thanks)

…please be more professional. It’d really help us not to drown in the hatred and childish but dangerous abuse we’re facing daily from the other part, the part that tried to cancel your show.

Actual quote I just had to read from an “Open Letter” a whiney Blarke wrote to Eliza.

We’re abusing them fam. They’re homophobic and vile on a daily basis but WE are abusing THEM by being proud of and loud about our rare queer ship. Sometimes the entitlement of The Straights leaves me speechless.

Review of Beach City Drift, or Guide to Ignore Jerks

This episode is a good continuation of the Stevonnie story arc, and it has a good theme: don’t let jerks make you feel bad.

The episode starts with Steven and Connie hanging out at Greg’s car wash, and Greg has bought a new car (I thought he spent all the money at Le Hotel). Anyway, like the episode of We Need to Talk, Greg introduces the kids to old school music, and like with Drop Beat Dad, the villain of this episode enters the stage to ruin all fun.

We have already seen Kevin in Alone Together, but in this episode we finally see who he really is, aside from being a steretypical creep; he is a scumbag, and the most vile character in the story (sorry Yellow Diamond). Kevin is an arrogant teenager that thinks he is the best, and he is self aware that he is a prick. If you could put his ego in a scale, he would be more egotistical than Lemongrab, but less evil than Cersei Lannister.

This episode highlights Steven’s impulsiveness, and how it affects Stevonnie’s behavior. In this episode Stevonnie is more like one person than two people, and maybe that is what is special about fusions: the fact that when two people are so close and respect each other there is a unity that makes them greater than individuals. Steven’s rage makes Stevonnie split apart, and Connie points out that they should fuse because of them and not because of a mean guy.

At the end of the episode Stevonnie proves to be superior to Kevin, not because of a place in a race, but because they understood that one shouldn’t pay attention to what evil people say. We see in the news religious zealots preach hate, conservative politicians try to make discriminatory laws, terrorists kill hundreds of people, and television producers create trash, but we don’t have to give them importance. When we give them importance they destroy our lives and the lives of the ones we love. When we decide to have healthy fun and help others we are truly alive.

anonymous asked:

💟 The Vile Heart- Specific condition that must be met: Must receive a token of affection under a new moon.

In the halls of the Clipper, Valrún paused. The fur along his shoulders lifted with alarm while his nose twitched with the noxious scent of magic. He never had liked the scent, no matter its form, but this scent was especially horrible. The dog growled as it seemed to close in on him from all sides.

Like a fearling, the magic struck, wrapping dark tendrils around him until he felt he would suffocate. He was allowed only a brief moment to panic before even his heart was isolated under the ferocious attack.


(Every thought in his mind sending him closer and closer to falling over the edge. Examining a broken blade, preparing reports on replacements and costs, but all he could think about was Jim. Jim and the acting lieutenant who took advantage of his nervous-)


(A fist slammed against the wall, trying and failing to focus on his work. The words screeched in his mind. Jim leaving without a word- In their last conversation, James had called him a whore. The sickness in his gut was unbearable. The shame of vile words used to tear down a friend who feared for his life. No better than other mistakes by other people. No better than G-)


(Pushing off the wall, calloused fingers grabbed at a wooden edge, ripping away and sending swords clattering to the ground. He couldn’t be like the lieutenant.)


Yeeesss her’s is my favorite!

I admit that it’s my second favourite (because I have a weakness for focalor). But hers is so beautiful =)


I love her crown alone! It is really a great equip. (Also, all the other comments where fun, too. “You look lame, idiot-king!” made me miss Judar so bad and Hakuei’s sweet and poetic comment about Koumei’s equip melted my heart.)

Judal is at his best when he’s insulting others <3 And I also enjoyed the old men shading each other xD

As for Hakuei comment that was so sweet! I never thought that Koumei’s djiin equip would inspire such a speech and in my opinion it was the most touching comment in the whole omake (and it awoke the Koumei x Hakuei fan in me xD).

“I… I don’t know w-what I’m doing here…”

“Don’t you?” His stare was vile and penetrating; both fire and ice delivered at the point of a thousand needles pricking at her nerves.

“N-no… Of course not. I haven’t… done anything wrong…” Her voice trailed off into a meek lack of confidence in her own words. And her second most pertinent thought was how she wished she was better dressed for his scolding… The first, of course, was whether or not she’d survive it. 

She’d been tending her chores in an old rag that could be better described as a potato sack than a dress when four of Lord Tyran’s hooded-riders held her father at sword point, insisting on her company. Her father – afraid for the life of his eldest – could only watch and pray to absent gods that he wouldn’t lose his beautiful Belarmina the same season he lost his wife…

“Your name.” His voice was as cold as the blood in his veins. The rumors of him being without a beating heart seemed more feasible now that she was close enough to look into his eyes.


“I know what it is, little girl… What does it mean.”

Flushed cheeks announced bruised pride at the casual insult of being called a “little girl”. She was sixteen, for father’s sake! Well past the age of healthy motherhood!  

“It… It means having b-beautiful armor.”

He scoffed. “And why would anyone name such a frail thing as you something as formidable as this?”

Flushed cheeks then turned to (feebly) clenched fists. If she really thought it through, there wasn’t any point in getting mad. But she figured she may as well get her licks in even if they were hardly recognizable as such.

She took a deep breath through her nose then recalled her cool. “My mother named me that because when she was pregnant with me she endured the harshest winter in a hundred years.” Her voice was steady now, and sure. “She said the only thing that kept her and father alive was their love for me. I was their armor against the conditions of a world so cruel.“

He almost looked impressed. …Then he yawned.

Steam may’ve shot from her ears from irritable neurons broiling behind gray-matter but the sight of glistening white fangs tempered her silent tantrum. They were ghastly… but arousing. Also dreadful. Definitely dreadful…

She quelled her unwelcomed rush of hormones by adverting her stare… But quicker than she could take a breath, Lord Tyron was upon her; his face inches from hers. The movement was so quick she never saw him close the distance. Her heart sped up like a rabbit cornered by a hound.

He sniffed the air around her neck and hair… She cringed and closed her eyes. When he circled her, it was like he floated on her aura of fear; his feet never making a sound or shoulders showing a rhythm to his glide. And his hypnotic voice was some impossible mix between a whisper and a scream… Like there were two voices, instead of one. One serenading her nerves, dizzying her inner ear while rounding her form, and one shrieking; ripping into her soul inside her own mind.

“You think you’ve fooled me, little girl? You think I don’t know what your hiding under that…” he ran a finger like a talon from her shoulder down her back to her hip before stopping in front of her, “…that armor.” He didn’t scoff this time. But she didn’t need to see his expression to know he was hosting a smirk.


Yes, you do.” He knew she’d try to deny taking his meaning but he wouldn’t entertain it. “Your mother…” His voice unplugged from her soul and she was finally able to breathe. “Tell me about her.”

“Sh-sh-she… She died… Past winter…”

He was so close the cold from his inhuman corpse stood the hairs on her arms on end when he said, “… Open your eyes.”

She knew better than to not obey. But knowing better and doing were entirely two different things.

Open them or I’ll remove your lids and feed them to my rats.” His breath was like a breeze skimming over the surface of a frozen lake…

 She gathered all her courage and pealed back a lid, preparing to be faced with the demonic stare of Apathy incarnate but instead found room to breathe… Much more than she’d anticipated since Lord Tyron was seated, disinterested, on his throne. … She wondered if he even ever really moved in the first place…

 “Now… Do you truly think I’m concerned with the conditions of her fickle existence meeting an early end?” He gave her a chance to respond but she didn’t offer one. “I want to know about the woman, not the events that occupied her dreary little life. … Try again.”

“Sh-she was kind… C-caring… Sh-she loved nature and she w–”

“Was a witch.”

“N-no… She…”

“No?” His air of disinterest finally found a reason to pay her mind. She wished it hadn’t. He stood up slowly this time, at a human pace, and walked down from his rostrum to loom. “Do you know anything about me, little girl?”

“It..” She wasn’t sure how honest she should be. He honestly didn’t care.

“Go on.”

“It is said… you are an Incubus.”


“That… th-that you are undead; demon spawned. W-with a thirst…”

Hmph…” Him chuckling at the idea chilled her inner organs. “I have… a mighty thirst, indeed…” His sharpened index threatened the delicate flesh of her jaw line while he admired the veins on her neck. “None of which could you provide a proper quenching to…” He lowered his hand and his disinterest set back in like he had an on/off switch for his libido. It irritated her. So did being irritated by it… “Have you also heard that I can,” he sniffed the air, “smell the taint of Terran Magic?” He sneered. “You reek of it.”

“No… n-no, I’m not…”


That shrieking tone inside her mind reattached its hooks to her soul while his cavernous howl shook her to her bones. Her heart nearly stopped from his demand’s intensity… She wished her bladder was the organ that suffered paralysis instead; a stream of warmth trickling down the inside of her thigh.

When he knew she was as resistant as a leaf in the wind, he tempered the demon within and went on.

“You’ve practiced Terran Magic before.”

“O-only as a child!! I w-was just messing about!! I didn’t know–”

He grabbed her chin and invaded her mind through her eyes. She couldn’t breathe while in his clutches. Seconds felt like days. Her rapid heartbeat aroused the surrounding hooded-riders who’d brought her in. She was beginning to understand that nothing was as it seemed within these walls; especially not the things that presided there. It was almost as if his incursion into her mind allowed her the burden of seeing though his eyes, and suddenly the hissing and clicking of the hoodsmen became apparently inhuman. And the walls… They slithered with eyeless serpents and decrepit vermin unlike any the deepest woods gave dwelling to. The only thing that seemed unchanged was Lord Tyron, other than what could’ve been… No… It was just her eyes going dark… Shadows playing tricks…

Before she could decide if what she thought she saw was real, consciousness was stolen from her mind from her lack of breath. Tyron, Lord of the Obsidian Mountains, let her fall like an elk disemboweled by a wolf to his feet. His eyes flared at the truth he found in her words. He realized she really had no idea what she was…

“Put her in a cell,” then he added as an afterthought, “… A filthy one.” The inhuman hoodsmen gathered her up, one limb per rider, and carried her out; thin tentacles escaping their gowns to wrap around her wrists and ankles. “For a villager, she’s lived a much too furnished life…” He almost looked offended by her delicate beauty while unconscious… But he convinced himself she was too infinitesimal for him to care. “Let her rot in wretched wastes. It’s more than a Terran witch deserves.”

If he could turn his penetrating eyes on himself, he might not agree with the lies he’d find in his own words…


Art by –> Wei Feng 


Do you want more? o.0 Go to my Wattpad account and vote for the story. If I get at least 10 votes I’ll write another “chapter”. Also vote for “Akin To Dying” if u want me to continue that storyline. My username is c0rWyn (the “0″ is a zero). The other stories are pretty much just one-and-dones. But if they get enough love, who knows? I might expand on them; turn them into novellas or something. Oh, and also visit EffWordProse.COM for a list of all my short, art-inspired free-writes and other news and rants on me and mine .Thanks for giving a hint of a fuck, tumblrbuds. I appreciate every reblog u can afford. -cc

Few things have been more frequently discussed in the recent months than the rise of Trump. Many commentators have noted the key political and institutional dynamics that gave Trump a path to the nomination (as I did here). Others have noted the ways in which the GOP set itself up for a fall by pandering to the donor class and delegitimizing political institutions (I discussed these here). These are all true. But what sets Trump supporters apart from the people who supported other candidates is their endorsement of vile stereotypes about people of color. Anti-black and -Muslim stereotypes are the strongest predictor of Trump support I was able to find — far more powerful than economic factors.

Name: Fafnir

Alternate Names: Franir, Golden Dragon, Dragon of Greed, Sinlord of Greed (mythika only)

Mythology: Old Norse Mythology

Size: Huge

Environment: In its giant treasure-filled catacombs on Gold Island somewhere in the Abyssal Seas.

In Mythika: While most sinlords are humanoid, the Sinlord of Greed, also known as Fafnir is a gigantic golden dragon of pure beauty but with a heart and soul as vile as any demon. Fafnir’s breath weapon turns his victims into golden statues and with the help of his right-hand minion Alberich (the golden dwarf), which touch turns anything to gold, they created an entire macabre treasure island full of golden statues that were once breathing and living creatures. Fafnir’s aura spreads greed and his entire draconic body is covered with the most beautiful treasures imaginable. Fafnir was once a dwarf, but a curse (or rather a blessing, as he called it himself) turned him into a dragon, it is said that when you kill Fafnir you gain its greedy curse and its draconic appeareance, and indeed the Symbol of Greed can turn the wearer into a golden dragon, but with the same alignment as it had before the transformation and when the symbol is taken off the wearer will return to his normal form. You gain more money after battle with this symbol as well, but to get it you first need to take down Fafnir and Alberich.

Wiki Link:


I’ve acknowledged before I’m horrible with my Ask responses. I apologise for this once again.

I’ve spent most of the last 3 days at the hospital with my Dad and have had lots of time to go through them. Because I didn’t want to get riled up any further I put off answering until tonight. Some are generic and I will respond to those. But some are, as usual, quite vile. And a few carry a different tone…I’ll say…threatening, perhaps.

I keep my SS comments/complaints to a minimum. IMO. I feel my blog offers more than a “constant bashing of Shippers.” I have stated more than once I will not give a platform to abusive Asks.

However, I’m going to break my own rules a bit because the tone against the bullying by SS’s has changed over the last several weeks. It seems someone, or a few someones, have been digging around my SM accts and professional web presence to figure out who I am. I have chosen to stay anonymous on Tumblr and Twitter for many reasons. There are only a couple of people on Tumblr that know who I am on Twitter. That is by choice. As are my reasons for keeping other SM accts to myself, family and real world friends. I hope I didn’t offend any of my Tumblr friends by saying this.

Rambling a bit, but I’m posting these Asks to shed light on a major problem that many of us have talked about in the past but it seems to be a problem again. If I am getting Asks like these with my mild account what are others getting?? How many are getting these that aren’t sharing? I for one would like to know!

Since I’m unsure how tracking within Tumblr works I will be posting/responding to the bad ones by screen capping them just in case.

the boy who blocked his own shot - tłumaczenie

Tytuł i link do oryginału: The boy who blocked his own shot

Autorka: starclipped

Zgoda: No jasne, że jest ;)

Ilość słów:

Banner: józefowa

Opis: Powrót do zdrowia jest długim i ciężkim procesem. Na szczęście Avengersi są chętni do pomocy. Ale odnalezienie siebie nie jest jedynym problemem Bucky’ego. Wkrótce będzie musiał stawić czoła czemuś więcej niż tylko zbieraniu rozbitych kawałków swojego życia.

- Nie wiem czy chcę pomocy – przyznał, ponieważ nie rozumiał dlaczego część niego potrzebuje tego jak wody, podczas gdy druga stara się uniknąć tego jak ognia.Kapitan uśmiechnął się delikatnie.

- Inaczej by cię tutaj nie było.

Planowana data rozpoczęcia publikacji: 25 IX 2016 :)

1. if it makes you less sad, i will die by your hand

2. hope you find out what you are, already know what i am

3. and if it makes you less sad, we’ll start talking again

4. you can tell me how vile i already know that i am

5. i’ll grow old, start acting my age

6. it’ll be a brand new day in a life that you hate

7. a crown of gold, a heart that’s harder than stone

8. and it hurts to hold on, but it’s missed when it’s gone

9. call me a safe bet, i’m betting i’m not

10. i’m glad that you can forgive; only hoping as time goes, you can forget

11. if it makes you less sad, i’ll move out of this state

12. you can keep to yourself, i’ll keep out of your way

13. and if it makes less sad, i’ll take your pictures all down

14. every picture you paint, i will paint myself out

15. it’s cold as a tomb and it’s dark in your room

16. when i sneak to your bed and pour salt in your wounds

17. so call it quits or get a grip

18. you say you wanted a solution, you just wanted to be missed

19. call me a safe bet, i’m betting i’m not

20. you are calm and reposed

21. let our beauty unfold

22. pale white like the skin stretched over your bones

23. spring keeps you ever close, you are second-hand smoke

24. you are fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins

25. holding onto yourself the best you can

26. you are the smell before rain; you are the blood in my veins

When I think of good, old Cobus Volker (Fuck Ubisoft for not giving us more info on anyone) I mentally picture the most chiseled, aesthetically pleasing, attractive person imaginable with wispy, platinum blond hair (something he prides himself on immensely) and with cheekbones and a bone structure sharp enough to cut bitches and diamonds alike despite of him appearing pretty sickly, ghostly and worn from drug-overuse, tobacco overload, working too much, whoring too hard, not sleeping sufficiently and rampant, day-to-day alcoholism, but personality-wise, I see a total abusive, racist piece of turd who’s hardly as beautiful as he seems on the outside (Hoyt gets his green eyes and gaunt face from daddy - the gold chain, only after he butchered the vile sod and collected it as a trophy). On a side note, why I keep drawing him and childhood  \ Hoyt is beyond me at this point. I must be morbidly fascinated, sick or somewhat demented by dysfunctional, troublesome families. Maybe, all of the above. Who knows? | x |

art by @hannisen (thank you<333)

“This is going to be fun. I hope. There’s always a chance that amateurs will spoil things with torture, disfigurement and all that. I’ll do my best to keep you safe from all that ridiculous and unnecessary brutality.”

Cockatrice aka ‘Lord Jester Trace’ aka the literal worst. Character belongs to E.M. Prazeman, author of The Lord Jester’s Legacy series.

I have several problems with book four and this guy is like half of them. My hair kink is gonna get me in trouble one day. But it does make me feel better that the main character is in a similar predicament with regards to Trace, albeit due to a different kink.

As vile a human being as Cockatrice was, and he was barely a human being, Lark felt on a very deep level that they would be excellent partners.
Perhaps even friends.