what the hell are you doing here

YOOO

hey ya’ll, thanks for the kind messages about our intros, comments, and random shit before and after each chapter!! i’m lovin’ the support, hell yeah. and don’t worry, we ain’t getting rid of that shit. that’s what we do. anyone else don’t like, TOOOOOUGH SKITTLES, TASTE MY RAAAAINBOW. 

anyways :D … here’s a few things:

1. unmei 3 and youchi 4 is coming. wait for it, wait for it. srsly ya’ll, wait for it. if i get another msg concerning those two-

but for how long?

bitch, until i say so

until you see it :’D what? 

2. i’m getting slammed with retranslation requests over and over, rip inbox. HERE’S THE THING. any languages other than spanish CAN RETRANSLATE WHENEVER, WHATEVER, HOWEVER so long as you credit this group and keep our credit pages that’s in the beginning of each chapter. don’t msg me. don’t ask me. don’t stalk me. you can arrange with other groups in your language with who does what. i dun care. i ain’t about that life anymore. ya’ll better credit us tho’ (i’ll whomp yo ass. kidding, i can’t fight worth of shit. i can run though, ayeee. try running, i’ll catch up to you).

SPANISH GROUPS NEED TO CONTACT ME FIRST AND GET MY PERMISSION. 

omg why? you got something against spanish people?

hahahahaha. no. what? no. calm down. it’s because our joint team, @qvfamma, already got dibs on all bboy omegaverse stories as well as others. so ya’ll better ask me first. 

4. kuruboku extras are also coming………….. sometime this week. i plan on releasing all of them in one go. bam. like BAM. YA’LL CAN WAIT. IT’S OKAY. I BELIEVE IN YOU.

5. next tanko we’re going to work on is junjou shounen, but we plan on finishing up bboy omegaverse vol 4 before then.

OK THAT’S IT. BYE FOR NOW :D

Suga / Min Yoongi as Your Boyfriend

Requested by: Anon

List of Groups / Artists / K-Drama Characters I Write For: Here

Masterlist: Here

Contents of Blog / What I Write: Here

To Do List: Here

A/N: *exhales a long sigh* Wow I need a boyfriend.

Originally posted by jeonsshi


  • “swag” 
  • @ him: Shut up Infires // *throws pillow at you*
  • “Don’t hate me, just ‘cause you ain’t me”
  • @ him: What the hell, Min Yoongi, why do you have prettier looking legs than me? // Him: What can I say? I’m blessed.
  • “Rapping isn’t the only thing my mouth’s good at”
  • Blatantly checking you out
  • Endless amount of photos in your phone… of him of course
  • “Here are a million picks to stare at when I’m not around and you miss me”

Keep reading

Becka’s Birthday Challenge

Hey guys! Since my birthday is coming up I decided to do a birthday challenge! Yay me! Lol So I’ve decided to do a challenge where each of you that participate will pick 2 things! First a quote, and then a place! There are some Angsty, Smutty, Dark, or possibly fluffy quotes in here! Please request a first choice and a backup in case they fill up then I will come up with more! I will limit 2 people per quote and place! If they fill up I will add more quotes and places!

Quotes:

  1. “I didn’t do it! Wasn’t me! Never happened!”
  2. “What am I going to do?! I don’t want to lose him!”
  3. “He’s gone…”
  4. “I am so screwed…”
  5. “How the hell am I supposed to fit in that?”
  6. “Ready or not, here I come!”
  7. “What the hell did you do?!”
  8. “You’re under arrest for public indecency!!”
  9. “You have 24 hours.”
  10. “Son of a bitch!”
  11. “Why are you holding a bloody knife?”
  12. “Oooh sounds kinky.”
  13. “No way in hell am I doing that?!”
  14. “Hi, I’m (Insert name) and I’m addicted to killing!”

Places:

  1. Bar
  2. Asylum
  3. Abandoned Building
  4. Basement
  5. Dark woods
  6. Park
  7. Dark Alley
  8. Bedroom
  9. Hospital
  10. Police Station
  11. Amusement Park
  12. Attic
  13. Cabin
  14. Rooftop

Rules for Challenge:

  1. You must be following me!
  2. Send a request through an ASK ONLY with your quote and place and a backup just in case! (I WILL NOT ACCEPT reblogs or messages with your quotes and places.)
  3. To participate you MUST pick a quote AND a place.
  4. You can write any genre you want! Fluff, Smut, Angst, etc. Just please put a warning on the story when you post because some people don’t like certain genres!
  5. Please NO SHIPS or OCs! Reader Insert only!
  6. SPN Characters AND actors only! No other fandoms please!
  7. Deadline for entering this challenge is March 13 which is two weeks from today!
  8. Please keep the story between 500-5000 words. If it’s longer than 1000 please use the Keep Reading feature on it!
  9. Tag me @beckawinchester when you post your story!
  10. Also use #BeckasBirthdayChallenge in your first 5 tags. This is important because Tumblr has had problems with the tagging people lately and I want this as a backup in case tags aren’t working!
  11. Due date for your fic will be May 16th as that is my birthday! So you have over 2 months to turn it in! You are welcome to turn it in before the date! If for any reason you need an extension on the post date we will work something else but 2 months should be plenty of time!

If you have any questions about the rules or challenge feel free to message me! :-)

Tagging People: @boredoutofmymindwriting @jensen-jarpad @frickfracklesackles @impalaimagining @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @plaidstiel-wormstache @abbirae99 @sis-tafics @atc74 @avasmommy224 @bringmesomepie56 @kas-not-cas @luci-in-trenchcoats @scarygoodfanfics @sleepywinchester @spn-and-daddy-issues @ellen-reincarnated1967 @neversatisfiedgirl @yellowtheremarvelfan @riversong-sam @chelsea072498 @wayward-mirage @ruby-loves-supernatural @dancingalone21 

anonymous asked:

Hey what about an imagine where the reader has hypothetically killed Dark's host and he's trying to make their life hell? It would be fun to read what Dark would do. Also in case you haven't noticed, I love fighting powerful creatures and most likely losing with only my wits and a gun.

I could tell. Quite the masochist, aren’t you? Or a daredevil. Then again, what’s the difference.


You had thought it was over the moment you pulled the trigger and the body crumpled to the ground with a strangely sickening thud. The near-deafening ringing in your ears had stopped once the bullet pierced skin and a strange black liquid seeped from the wound. You gagged and covered your mouth; even if you had to get rid of him, the thought of having killed something did not sit well in your mind, or your stomach for that matter.

Your nerves were frayed, but at least the nightmare was over. It took several days (so you thought; you weren’t keeping track) before you could finally rest a little easier, having convinced yourself that it was a necessary task. Whoever the body belonged to must’ve been long gone if Dark had resided there as long as you originally thought he had. You never could figure him out.

You had finally caught up on your sleep debt, your anxiety finally quieted. You carried on with your days as usual, trying to push Dark far from your damaged mind. Sometimes, things were still weird. You woke up some mornings with things in your home shattered; a sound like branches screeching against a window woke you up some nights; sometimes people in the crowd would stare at you and you could just feel their burning gazes drilling holes into you.

That was when the messages began to appear on your bedside table.

“Don’t forget.”

“You’ve made a dire mistake.”

“We WILL be together.”

At some point, your pet went missing. You couldn’t find them for a week, and when you did, they seemed scared, shaking and thin from undernourishment, as though they had been lost for months rather than a week.

Your phone would ring, and messages with nothing but static would be left behind.

One night, you woke up to the sound of glass shattering, and you grabbed a knife you had started keeping by your bedside before going to investigate. Your windows had been shattered. What looked to be like large stones stained with blood lay on the floor amidst the broken shards. This would cost you a fortune to fix, and there were no leads for the police to follow.

That was the last straw, and you moved across the country. This did not help, though. The same series of events happened. You had lost your ability to sleep soundly again long ago, and dark circles colored your eyes and your mind was cloudy from exhaustion. You made at least three more moves before it happened.

He appeared again, in new flesh.

You thought you were hallucinating at first, a side effect of your insomnia. But when he placed his hand on your cheek, you felt the strange absence of heat, but it was definitely solid, real. Your blood turned to ice and you were more aware than you had been in months, like someone had dumped ice buckets on you repeatedly.

Your fear had you paralyzed as you heard his voice, clear and concise through the sudden high-pitched droning filling your eardrums, consuming your senses.

Miss me?

|PSA.|

I’m gonna give a blunt sort of PSA because I think people need to hear it. If, for whatever reason, if you and I have a falling out, I want you to know that that is all it is. I may have friends who still write with you, fine – though I reserve the right to not write with them if they do – but please know I will not go around trying to sabotage your writing relationships with other people, even my friends. Here’s the reason why: I don’t care. I don’t care what characters you write or who you write them with. And, quite frankly, I don’t care enough about you to try to take away all your partners. The RP community is a big place. You go do you and leave me the hell alone and we’ll be good. If that makes me an asshole, fine. But get off your goddamned vain high horse and stop claiming to someone who might be a mutual between us that I intentionally drive away all your partners. I don’t. Chances are that you do that all on your own. I’ve stopped interacting with you for a reason: we don’t mesh. I don’t want you in my life. So why in the hell would I keep talking about you? [hint: I wouldn’t.] So please move on and let the fuck go.

A memory that makes them feel angry

“I saw him” Aimee mumbled after the kids left for school.

Gene set the dishes on the counter with a loud clatter “have you forgotten what he did to us? To me?”

She could see he was fighting to keep his anger under control. She paused the game she had started “I’m sorry I” she licked her lips suddenly nervous. She wrung her hands together as she brought her gaze up to meet his.

“You’re sorry” he scoffed. It was one of the few times in their years of being together his anger was directed at her.

“I didn’t know what else to do” she cried taking the steps to bring to his side “he came to the house. The kids were upstairs playing.”

“He came to the house?” Gene repeated his voice a low grumble “why the hell did he come here? How did he know where to find us?”

“I don’t know” Aimee cried “maybe my father told him. I wouldn’t tell him. You know I wouldn’t.” She jumped when Gene’s fist crashed down on the counter rattling the dishes.

Looking up his face contrite “I’m not angry at you” he said moving around the counter “I’m angry at the situation. I want you to be safe. My family to be safe. That guy knowing where we live doesn’t feel safe. I thought he was still in prison.”

She shook her head allowing him to draw her close. Leaning into him she let herself relax in his arms “he’s out on parole.”

Gene muttered an expletive he seldom used “I’ll inform our security team. I don’t want that guy showing up at our home unannounced again. I’ll get a restraining order against him if I have to.” He squeezed her tight “I’ll protect you. Whatever the cost.”

That was one of the few times Aimee had seen Gene lose his temper. Not that she could blame him. She was just as angry as he was at Wallace’s early release. Even now all these years later her anger of the injustice of it all tightened her chest making her pulse race. All she could hope for was that Wallace was long gone with the passage of time.

Aimee Vera was made by @legendofsim

Sacre Coeur, chapter 2

You can find chapter one here.



The wait is hell.

John’s tightly-contained panic would propel him out of the well if his numb hands could only grip the rope. Shaking like a poplar leaf, the cold in his body is a dull throb.

“S’good to shiver,” he reasons. “Shivering is heat. Not shivering’s dead.”

Dangling in the water from the shirt-sling, arms tightly hugging his chest in a poor facsimile of Sherlock, John tries to distract himself. What is he doing out there? He imagines Sherlock running barefoot and shirtless across the moor under a crescent moon, wet curls flying. Never could resist a touch of the dramatic. He can picture him mentally constructing a hundred potential rescue operations in an instant, irritably brushing his hand aside to scatter them, letting only the most plausible one remain.

“Alright, be brilliant, Sherlock. But hurry it up.”

The well feels like it’s shrinking in around him, the sensation of being buried alive making his breath come rapid and shallow. He tries not to think of how much deeper the water might be if the child’s bones had not helped him hold back the flow. They couldn’t save you, but you saved me. 

Twice he’s nudged the knots of his shirt-sling up the rope. Sherlock’s been gone much too long and he can’t help but imagine horrific explanations for his delay: he’s been captured and needs John to rescue him; he’s secretly joined forces with Moriarty and they’re watching his demise on camera; The Woman has him at gunpoint. John shakes himself, muttering, “Stop it, stop it now.”

“John! John, I’m here!” Sherlock suddenly leans over the side of the well, his voice bouncing around the walls as he lowers a bulky bundle from another rope. He came back. Tears spring to John’s eyes and his throat constricts so much he can’t yell back. Come on, keep it together.

“I’ve made a makeshift sling,” he calls down. “Can you get in? Can you hold on?”

The heavy jumble of rope hits the water with a slap and begins to sink. Though he tries to unravel it, John’s hands are too stiff, his limbs too sluggish to make sense of it. Sherlock sees and quickly shimmies back down the rope, splashing into the water next to him. He utters a small gasp as the cold hits him anew.

John clings to his shirt-sling and watches with quiet admiration as Sherlock loosens a slip knot and unfurls the ropes, knotted and crossed to create a kind of harness. He deftly guides John into it, treading and dunking to get the right ropes under and around his legs, chest and arms.

Awkwardly floating in his bulky harness, John wonders if the rope is really going to hold his weight. Sherlock gives a final decisive tug on a knot. He speaks slowly, deliberately, as if John’s already-inferior mind cannot comprehend speech in his frozen, half-drowned state.

“I’m going to climb out now and pull you up, John. I’ll just be right outside the well.” John wonders if Sherlock can deduce how afraid he’s been, even in the darkness. He worries now about how his friend could possibly lug him all the way up the well shaft single-handedly. Sherlock grips his shoulder reassuringly. “There’s a young beech tree nearby I can use for leverage.” John nods weakly while Sherlock climbs up and away. Course he can. Bloody mind reader.

Before the panic can seize him again, John feels a tug. The ropes tighten and he marvels as they snug against his back, around his legs and shoulders, dispersing his weight evenly, if uncomfortably. It’s brilliant. Three tugs and he’s cleared the water, dripping and bumping lightly against the rough stones. He wishes he could help, but all he can do is cling to the rope and watch as the opening of the well creeps closer. Glancing below, the dark water slips away from him. Free, nearly free. He wonders with a little jolt what could be waiting for them outside the well. His eyelids feel leaden, his thoughts sluggish. Must stay awake long enough to ask Sherlock what he knows.

He can hear Sherlock’s voice reassuring him from outside. The air is getting fresher and it rouses him a little.

“John, remember when we used to play Rock, Paper, Scissor?“

John snorts. "We always tied. You said the variables were too… predictable…or something. Added bloody dynamite and earthquake.” John knows what he’s doing – trying to keep him talking. He appreciates it.

“Variations increase random outcomes, which is the point of the game.” John can hear the laughter in Sherlock’s voice. He’s also panting with the exertion. “My eldest brother used to play it with me when I was small, let me make up all kinds of variables. He was a chemist, too. Added ‘Catalyst’ that combined elements – using two hands. Fire and Scissor made molten metal, which of course beat Rock.“

"I get to add Well,” John calls up. “Beaten by Rope or Bone or…Detective. Not sure how you’d signal that one.” Fog swirls in his mind, he frowns. “Wait, did you just say eldest brother?”

Sherlock doesn’t answer. He’s so close to the opening that John could reach out and touch the topmost edge. His whole body aches for it. The bumps stop and the rope shakes a bit. Likely being tied off. Dangling and shivering, he’s suddenly very aware of the open air beneath him, the long fall into the freezing water below should he bungle getting out of the ropes.

Sherlock’s face appears at the edge, pale and breathless, and reaches down to him. With a grip like iron, he pulls John out over the well’s mossy lip onto the grass. Taking his weight, Sherlock half-drags him away from the well. John’s legs have no strength and buckle beneath him. He collapses against Sherlock in a pile of sodden rope.

“Jesus bloody christ,” John gasps as relief floods through him. Sherlock drops beside him panting, but only rests a moment, springing up to untangle the rope from John’s limbs. It’s dark, but the rustling shapes around them tell John forest. He stares up at the starry sky with reverence, feeling as if he’s just been exhumed. After several moments of fussing over him, Sherlock’s voice breaks through the fog settling heavily in John’s mind.

 “—proper response to hypothermia is to remove all of your wet clothing before wrapping you warmly. It’s dark, but I hope you won’t feel it an invasion of privacy if I–”

 “S’fine, Sherlock.” He can’t help but chuckle. “I don’t mind.”

This is all clinical, survival, John tells himself firmly as Sherlock’s hands fly over his skin, deftly removing his ruined shoes and socks, peeling off his sodden jumper, jeans and pants. The air is cold on his skin and he shivers violently, but he’s quickly wrapped in something heavy and warm. It’s surprisingly silky against his skin.

“Where’d you find blankets?” he asks thickly, incredulous. Sherlock is wrapping his dry suit jacket around John’s feet.

 “John, your currently compromised state is the only excuse for your lack of observation. This is not a blanket.”

John plucks at it, smells wool-and-Sherlock. “Your coat,” he smiles, shivering. “Ta.”

Sherlock gives him a lopsided grin, then, seemingly satisfied with his makeshift cocoon, sits closely behind him, wrapping his long limbs around John for maximum contact. Sherlock drops his chin to John’s shoulder wearily, his voice rumbling in his ear. “Just rest now, I’ll do what I can to keep you warm.” Sherlock sounds exhausted as the adrenaline of his rescue ebbs away.

Though he is aching with cold, the sheer ridiculousness of the moment hits him: sitting in Sherlock’s arms, naked in his precious Belstaff, alive. A wave of giddiness washes over him. He giggles, then clears his throat, trying to sound serious.

“Sherlock, if I’m dying of hypothermia, aren’t you s’posed to be starkers in the coat with me?” Sherlock’s arms twitch. John wonders if it’s possible to feel someone blush.

“Don’t be dramatic, John. While your condition is clearly serious, you are still able to follow basic instructions and respond to conversation. You are not in fact dying, though it would be unwise for you to move very much lest the cold blood in your extremities flow too quickly through your heart or other organs. Cardiac arrest is a possibility. The well water was roughly 45 degrees, making it less likely.” John grins sleepily at his logistical ramble, obviously a cover for a strong emotion. “Additionally, your first responder information is sorely outdated. Studies have found that skin-to-skin contact is not as effective in increasing body temperature during hypothermic shock as when the victim is encouraged to shiver to a normal internal temperature in warm, dry conditions. I’m a poor replacement for a hot water bottle, but I’ll do my best.”

“Mm, no, feels nice.” He chuckles wearily. “Thanks. For, y’know. Everything. It was brilliant, your rescue.” He heaves a weary sigh and sinks into him, shivering, reveling in the warmth of the cocoon. Now that he’s on solid ground, he can actually say the words. “You got there just in time. Few minutes more and the water would’ve been over my head.”

Sherlock ducks his head against the upturned collar of the coat and doesn’t respond, just tightens his grip on him, as if he could squeeze away the cold that’s sunk deep into John’s bones. Minutes slide by in silence and as weariness slips over him, John marvels at the simplest things: fresh wind pushing at his face; the sound of trees rustling all around them; the sensation of Sherlock’s breath against his neck. He shivers and shivers.

They sit in silence and John begins to nod off when he feels damp warmth on his neck. He thinks about this for a long, fuzzy moment then realizes with a sharp breath that Sherlock is crying, snuffling into his hair. John’s stomach twists painfully. What is he whispering? The words are just at the edge of his comprehension as he slides into sleep.

“Please, John. Please come back.”

“M’right here, Sherlock,” he mutters frowning, confused.

Slipping into darkness, John is vaguely aware that Sherlock’s lightly rocking him back and forth.

Fight it, John.” His whisper is fierce and choked. “Come back to me.”



Tagging those who liked/shared chapter one. Sorry for the nasty cliffhanger!

@clace-morgenstern-herondale71 @brilliantorinsane @tqosaw @tagnent @theseobsessions @is-that-a-designer @getwaterdamage @sherlockisnolongeravailable @min2chin

Wanna tell the writers they fucked up big time on Supergirl?

for real tho you can contact the SG writers here and tell them what you’re thinking of the show, but don’t send hate or they will probably close it, send them genuine reasons for disliking the direction the show is taking and hopefully they’ll do something about it.

Happy 18th birthday to the baddest Pisces woman I know @astrollusion ! ❤️ Go wish her a happy birthday and make sure to follow her because she’s intelligent, hilarious and sassy as hell! I love you so much girl, I hope you enjoy your day and I know there will be many blessings and opportunities to come your way in life. I know you’ll grow into one fine young woman and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you. I’ll always be here for you if anything and you’ll definitely have my support. Especially if you create that YouTube channel girl… I’ll join the Astrology YouTube community if you do too LMFAO! 😂 Anywayssss, happy birthday once again and enjoy it Queen! 👭

Viktor’s Final Goodbye to Figure Skating: Two Yuris and Two World Records

Alternatively titled: English Major With Nothing Better To Do With Her Life Overanalyzes Things (finals??? haha what are those)

Now, for the sake of sparing you time because this meta is going to get long as hell, here’s the gist right now: I’m thinking 1. Yuuri’s going to take Viktor’s World Record in the Free Skate and 2. Viktor’s never going to go back to competitive skating again. 

Now, am I right about this? Who the fuck knows! Is that going to stop me from writing a god damn essay about it? No. No it is not. So. Let’s begin:

Okay, so I know people have talked about it before (a lot), but the OP is the crowning jewel of both this show and my theory, so bear with me. 

One of the most interesting things about the OP is that, despite being sung by one singer, it’s generally agreed that the different parts of the OP are “sung” by different characters. The OP starts off with someone talking about how they’re “tired of feeling” like they’re “never enough,” and Yuuri’s shown on screen. Then, Viktor shows up on screen and the lyrics are about encouraging someone to believe in themselves. That is, Viktor encouraging Yuuri to believe in himself. Basically, the main idea here is that skater on screen = who’s singing the current lyrics.

SO THEN:

Yuri shows up! And Yuuri’s on screen with him! And the lines are “Don’t stop us now, the moment of truth, we were born to make history.”

There are two singers in this part! In fact, go listen to the song right now and you’ll notice that there are literally two singers in this part (a background vocalist joins in on this line). So the “we” is Yuri and Yuuri, and they’re both singing about how they’re going to “make history” during “the moment of truth” (aka the Grand Prix Finals). 

Well, guess who just made history by blasting Viktor Nikiforov’s SP record out of the water?

Keep reading

*picture falls from Max’s bag. Chloe sees it*
C: “ Wait, Max, a picture fell from–uh?! …Thanks, Max, nice shot!”
M: “ What…?”
C: “ I didn’t know you took a picture of me at the pool… I look hella sexy, here!”
M: “ …Shit! Chloe, give it back!”
C: “ Hahaha, no way! …Did you want to keep it for yourself?! You’re such a perv-nerd!”
M: “ STOP IT, CHLOE, GIVE IT BACK! ”
C: “ I could, but I want something in return… ”
M: “ What the hell do you want?! ”
C: “ I’ll give it to you and forget about it… but you have to kiss me. ”
M: “ God, not again! ”

*apologizes for unnecessary scenario*

4

IN LIGHT OF WHAT HAPPENED RECENTLY WITH AMY IN THE STREAM CHAT

IF YOU THINK IT’S OK TO TELL AMY TO GO KILL HERSELF OR THAT SHE SHOULD DIE BECAUSE HER DATING MARK IS “RUINING YOUR SHIP” THEN YOU ARE NO LONGER A VALUED PART OF THIS COMMUNITY

IF YOU THINK IT’S OK TO TYPE IN CHAT SAYING THAT THEY SHOULD RAPE AMY OR THAT THEY SHOULD FUCK AMY ON CAMERA OR THAT MARK AND HER SHOULD MAKE BABIES ON STREAM THEN YOU ARE NO LONGER A VALUED PART OF THIS COMMUNITY 

IF YOU WERE ANY PART OF WHAT HAPPENED IN CHAT THEN YOU ARE NO LONGER A VALUED PART OF THIS COMMUNITY

WE DO NOT NEED YOU NOR DO WE WANT YOU

LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK

IF YOU TRULY LOVED MARK THEN YOU WOULD BE HAPPY ABOUT HIS CURRENT RELATIONSHIPS AND YOU WOULD RESPECT HIM AND EVERYONE HE LOVES

YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE, AND YOU NEVER WILL

 I HOPE YOUR ACTIONS BURN INTO YOU UNTIL YOU FINALLY REGRET ACTING THAT WAY.

YALL ARE GOING TO HELL FOR THAT

PLEASE NEVER LET ANYTHING LIKE THAT HAPPEN AGAIN

IT’S CHRISTMAS FOR GOD SAKE, AND THAT WAS ON A CHARITY STREAM

AND FOR ALL OF YOU THAT DON’T THINK THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED OR THAT IS WASN’T AS BIG OF DEAL AS PEOPLE ARE MAKING IT OUT TO BE,

IT DID HAPPEN, AND IT WAS FUCKING TERRIBLE, I WAS THERE WATCHING THE CHAT AS IT FUCKING HAPPENED, IT WAS AS BAD AS PEOPLE ARE MAKING IT , YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TYPE OF SHIT THEY WERE SAYING IN CHAT

not taking off my hijab today. i’m never going to let the ugliest, most vile, hateful scum of the earth think they’ve won.

didn’t take my hijab off after 9/11 and i sure as hell am not going to start now.

but i’m here for my muslim sisters that feel the need to. i’m here for you and i love you and you’re absolutely in the right to do what makes you feel safe.

Allah is with you.

4

Save him. Don’t think anyone else is going to save him, because there isn’t anyone. It’s up to you. Save him. But I do think you’re going to need a little bit of help with that, because you’re not exactly good with people, so here’s a few things you need to know about the man we both love. And more importantly, what you’re going to need to do to save him. John Watson never accepts help. Not from anyone, not ever. But here’s the thing - he never refuses it. So, here’s what you are going to do. You can’t save John, because he won’t let you. He won’t allow himself to be saved. The only way to save John is to make him save you. Go to hell, Sherlock. Go right into hell and make it look like you mean it.

  • Victor: I'm going to be your coach and make you win GPF, Yuuri!
  • Victor, internally: *SCREAMING* OHHHH MYYY GODDD IM HERE HES HERE IM SO HAPPY LOOK AT HIS FACE ALL SHOCKED WHAT AN ADORABLE I BET HES SO HAPPY TO SEE ME AGAIN TOO AAAAA I CANT BELIEVE I DID THIS
  • Victor: We need to build trust in our relationship
  • Victor, internally: *SCREECHES* FFFUK DID I JUST DO THAT I JUST DID THAT WAIT WHY IS HE RUNNING AWAY I THOUGHT HE WAS GAME FOR THIS?? ? WHATEVER FUCK IT IM JUST GLAD IM HERE
  • Victor: You're doing Eros
  • Victor, internally: because you're sure as hell not agape mmhm uh-uh
So You Want to Fight:

You are furious about last night, and I understand. So am I. You want to fight back against this fascist tangerine and the party that buoyed him to the highest office in the land. But you don’t know how.

I do. I am an attorney, licensed by the State of Nebraska. Here are a FEW ways you can start the fight.

1. Get involved with your local politics. Find the leaders in your area who oppose the vitriolic slime mold. Ask them how you can help their causes. Find charities and nonprofits that support what you believe. Give to them, either financially or with your time.

2. Stay on top of Administrative Agencies. Did you know that in order to make a regulation, it has to be opened for public comment? This is true at both the federal and state level. Flood them. Make it administrative hell for them to do anything.

3. Write your Congressmen and Congresswomen. Let them know what you think about upcoming bills and policies. Propose legislation (the more researched and drafted the better). Do this at the state and federal level.

4. Keep an eye on the Supreme Court(s). It is possible for attorneys admitted to practice before the various Supreme Court to submit amicus curiae briefs (legal arguments in support of a position even when they are not a party to the case). If you feel passionately, you can hire attorneys to write these briefs, or even write one to have an attorney submit (they will probably want to revise them, and that is a good thing. Let them. They know things about citation and argument styles that the courts prefer).

5. STAY DETERMINED. Do not let this fire in you die. Do not give into despair. Refuse the darkness and remain constant.

Last, but not least, work to change the hearts of those around you. Erode his support base by making the world kinder, by making the world realize that the foreign Other is neither as foreign or as other as they think. I can’t tell you how best to do that. Compassion, love, righteous indignation, zeal, whatever works best for you, and you feel will make the people around you understand and revise their opinions and feelings.

How Do People NOT Multiship?

Seriously I don’t get it. Just looking at Voltron for example here, you’ve got

-Klance, your hate ship, that red and blue, the gay losers who pretend to hate each other but would be very upset if something happened to the other
–Sheith, with all its history and possibilities for angst and comfort
-Kidge, your dumb conspiracy theorists who have no idea what they’re doing in a relationship but they’re trying their best
-Heith, your cinnamon roll lovers
-Kallura, your space power couple and also the way to spite people just for fun
-Shance, your sweet little angel falling for space daddy and it could be unrequited if you like to suffer and I mean Lance called Shiro his fucking hero like can you not
-Pidgance, Punk and Hance, your friends to lovers ships
-Allurance, for crush nerds and could again be unrequited if you’re masochistic
-Shidge, with their adorable and lame support that makes me cry
-Shunk, which is just an even purer cinnamon roll ship
-Shallura, for all your space parent needs
-Pallura, because lesbians are beautiful
-Hallura, the team mom ship
-Shatt, more angst opportunities and the best name

And then there’s your poly ships

-Shklance, where Shiro’s the only sane one and keeping them alive
-Klunk, Kidgance and both at the same time, the purest of friends to lovers poly ships
-Shallurance, which is perfect for Lance angst if you like people feeling like an add on and less important when really they’re just as loved
-Shalluridge, which I can’t even describe how great it is
- Shalluratt, which I don’t actually ship but I get it

Then again maybe is just me I join a fandom and I either ship everything or don’t even ship the Canon there is no in between for me.