where am i supposed to put the spaces

yondadudonta  asked:


Their meeting was a little less meet-cute and a little more,,, meet-ugly sort of thing.

Mainly because they both read the situation very badly and ended up trying to kill one another. Completely accidentally, but.


And really, can you blame Tony? Their ship does crash-land in the middle of a crowded highway, and barely manages to avoid civilians. Then they pop out, and they’re armed to the teeth, looking pretty threatening and…well… alien.

People end up calling (what’s left of) the Avengers- which happens, at the time, to be Tony and Tony alone.

Except the Guardians crashed in Florida; when Tony got the call he was in New Orleans at a science convention, and the suit was still in New York.

But he went anyway. Suit or no suit, he had to try. He was the only line of defence now, after… everything.

So, armed with a sophisticated watch-gauntlet and a gun he always kept tucked in his jacket pocket, he takes the jet and leaves to try and stop them from potentially, y’know, annihilating the world or whatever.

Except things don’t really happen like that, in the end.

“Listen, what are the chances you’re gonna do as I say when I order you to drop your weapons and leave?” tony asks wearily, as he holds the gun at the biggest guy’s weirdly patterned face and the gauntlet at the woman holding the largest gun he’s ever seen in his life. He doesn’t even bat an eyelid toward the talking walking raccoon or… the tree…thing.

Just another day in the life, at this point.

Although it would be kinda embarrassing if he ends up getting murdered by the raccoon. What the damn hell would they put on his grave? Here lies Tony Stark- saved New York, but unable to protect himself from the dangers of the Mighty Raccoon?

As soon as he’d spoken, about 13 different weapons were pointed in his face. Which hardly made sense, considering there were five of them and they all only had two hands. But whatever.

“How’s about we ask you the same? Except more forcefully, considering we got all the guns,” the raccoon said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck would I go then, what with me being a human being who lives here? Just fling myself into the void of space? And yes, tempting as that might sound, I’ve been there done that. Not as appealing as I would have thought, to be honest.” 

The five stared at him in confusion for a moment, before what looked to be the only actual human stepped forward, head cocked. His eyes were bright and beard scruffy- Tony thought it suited him.

Tony also thought he should probably focus on the task at hand, and his ever-growing chances of imminent death, rather than how pretty his opponent was.

“You’re just a human, huh?” Hot Scruffy Man asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow, and then pointed the gun at him when he took another step. “What gave it away? The fact that I have the same composition and structure as every other human on the planet? The fact I look just like you, who is also a human?”

“Half human,”

“What was the other half, pure asshole?”

“Actually… kinda, yeah.” The Hot Scruffy Man paused, and then shrugged. “Daddy issues.”

Tony had a brief moment to wonder what the fuck he was doing before an involuntary snort of laughter had escaped out of him. “Yeah- rode that train before, buddy- still doesn’t explain why you’re on the planet I protect, waving your guns around at innocent people and causing millions of dollars worth in property damage.”

The team in front of him paused, and then the man looked back at the green lady, who just shrugged and put down her gun. “We were told there was an imminent threat to your planet. We were in the neighbourhood, so we thought we’d come save you.”

Tony stared at them, contemplating. “Where are your sources from?”

“The fine NovaCorps,” Massive Bulked Alien Dude spoke up.

Tony squinted, running a hand across his forehead. “Am I… supposed to know what that means?”

“Fancy space police,” Raccoon told him.

“You seen any apocalyptic aliens round here lately?” Hot scruffy Man asked him again, slightly confused now. 

Tony just sighed. “Nope. And if there were, I would handle them. You can go back…wherever you came from, guys, it’s fine, Earth is fine-“

“You? You’re gonna protect the Earth? With your fancy little handgun and hand-firey thing?” The Raccoon laughed, and Tony scowled.

Luckily, because he had been counting the seconds in his head since he’d called it, he knew he was about to do something really badass, and it wiped the scowl off his face, replacing it with a little smile as he stared at the stupid talking Raccoon. 

“No,” he said, shrugging as he heard the familiar whirring sound of metal moving at hundreds of miles an hour up ahead of him.

The aliens looked up, one of them pointing their gun at the source of noise, like it would do anything. But in the space of a few seconds, it had already reached its intended target, slowing down just enough to not vaporise his body and wrapping around him, every piece fitting in a way that made Tony want to give himself a round of applause.

“I’m gonna protect Earth with this,” he said, raising his two repulsors and loading them right in the Raccoon’s little face.

There was complete silence for a second, before Hot Scruffy Man made a noise that should really, for the sake of Tony’s sanity, be kept in the bedroom. “That was literally the coolest and most attractive thing I have ever seen ever. In my life.”

Tony couldn’t help himself; he smirked and cocked his head Hot scruffy Man. “Sweetie, I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re gonna have to keep it in your pants until we can sort this out.”

Green Lady sighed, and walked forward to smack Hot Scruffy Man around the back of the head. “You know what we talked about, Peter- no flirting with potential targets. It’s in bad form.”

“This guy certainly hasn’t got a bad form,” Hot Scruffy Man- Peter- nodded over to Tony and smirked.

Green Lady sighed, and then turned to Tony. “Listen. You want to protect your planet. We want to protect your planet. How about rather than pointing our weapons at one another, we try and… you know, do what we set out to do?”

Instantly, the smile slide off Tony’s face, not that any of them could tell behind the faceplate. “I work alone. Sorry. You’re gonna have to l-“

And that was when the world sort of exploded around them.

Without even thinking about it, Tony shot forward and wrapped his arms around the two closest to him- the Green Lady and Peter- rolling them to the ground and hoping that the rest of his team, especially the more flammable ones, were okay. Green Lady yelled at the sudden-ness of his approach, but Peter just sighed. “Here we go,” he muttered into Tony’s shoulder.

Tony was inclined to agree, there.

Half-way through the battle, Peter AKA Starlord AKA Galaxy’s Number One Asshole asked him out.

Tony looked at him for a good four seconds before he got tackled to the ground by… (Dracula? Dracker? He was having to learn the names on the go, and his mind was currently on other, more explosion-based things) the Massive Bulked Alien Dude.

“THAT IS VERY UNPROFFESSIONAL, PETER!” He yelled, before looking down at Tony. “Are you well? I thought you may have been hit with a paralytic beam of some sort.”

Tony nodded, and then sat up. “No paralytic. Just your team-mate.”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude nodded wisely. “He does tend to have that affect on people.”

“What? Endangering their goddamn lives on the field?”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude paused, and then shrugged as he rolled off Tony. “I was going to say rendering people speechless with his idiocy, but that too.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m actually clever, Tony, I promise! Boyfriend material, right here!” Peter yelled across the battlefield, looking over to them and grinning as he shot an alien in the back of the head without even looking.

“You’re a god damn alien!” tony yelled back exasperatedly, trying to keep the smile off his face as he jumped high into the air and then landed on an unfortunate opponent.

“Yeah- think of all the new tricks I must know, then,” Peter countered, winking as he dived behind a car and then threw what must have been a fancy bomb over the bonnet.

Tony’s mind briefly short-circuited at that (Holy mother of God) astute observation- but he quickly regrouped and fired a repulsor at an alien attempting to sneak up behind Rocket. “I’m gonna need a few examples before I agree to anything, sweetie,” he replied.

Peter laughed and opened his mouth, but then the Tree hit him over the head. “Ow!” he complained, looking betrayed.

“I have enough issues dealing with one distracted team-member whilst in the middle of a battle, I will not be dealing with two! Cut the flirting out!” Gamora yelled, as Tony watched her utterly destroy two different aliens at once.

“She thinks we should be ‘professionals’ and ‘focus on the mission’ when we’re in battle,” Peter said grumpily, wiping a cut across his face and then shrugging. “I respectfully disagree.”

Tony had to cut the conversation short again in order to swoop up and laser his way into the main hull of the ship that loomed barely even twenty meters over the battlefield, but he still had the team in the comm that FRIDAY had patched him into. “So what about Monday? You sticking around until then?” He asked.

Rocket swore at them down the line, but Peter just laughed. “For you, baby, of course I am.”

“Good. I’ve got a meeting with… let’s call him an ex. Be nice to have an excuse to blow him off.”

Peter whistled, “Oooh, want me to sweep you off your feet and declare battle with him for hurting you? I’m always up for it.”

“Much as I would like to see that, he’s kind of peak physical perfection. Plus I’d rather just make out with you,” Tony admitted.

“That’s fair. I want to make out with me too.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yep- welcome to the Guardians- we’re all assholes here. You’ll fit right in,” Peter told him.

“I am GROOT!” Came a rumbling voice that Tony could hear even off the comms, and he looked down in time to watch the tree grab Peter around the wait and haul him, flinging him up in to the sky with a yell.

It was a perfect throw, to be fair to Groot. Peter’s momentum cut out just as he was level with Tony, who grabbed his shoulders and lifted his faceplate, just for a second, in time for Peter to plant one on his mouth with a grin and a raised eyebrow, before he began falling again, right into Groot’s waiting arms.

Through the comm, Gamora just sighed. “Idiots. All of you.”

royal au snippet

this is for @mediawhorefics because yesterday was her birthday and I know she’s v excited for this fic to be done

“I can’t accept this, Harry. I really can’t.”

Harry sinks into the cushions of his living room couch and tucks his bare feet underneath him. “It’s honestly no trouble.”

“Harry, you sent me a pass to the National Flower Mart. You’re telling me that we can just walk in and buy whatever flowers we want, at a discount? I can’t take this and I certainly can’t pass it on to Lottie.”

“Then fine, don’t use it. But you needed help, and I had a way to get you what you needed. It didn’t cost me anything. I just thought it’d be nice to do something nice for you.”

He hears Louis sigh on the other end of the line, and he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He means it: if Louis doesn’t want to use the card, that’s fine. But he really wants him to.

“It’s really no trouble. And you said that she really wants those flowers. Why not make it happen?”

Louis doesn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to tell her it’s from me,” Harry continues. “If that’s what you’re worried about. Just tell her it’s the perks of a famous football brother.”

“I just… I don’t know how to repay you. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to. You can just hang out with me. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

“That sounds an awful lot like a bribe.”

Harry laughs and unwinds his legs from beneath himself. He plants his feet on the ground and makes his way over to the window. He can see the afternoon traffic leading to Portobello Market, the tourists stopping to admire the various doors of Notting Hill and posing for photos.

“Let’s do dinner. Please. I promise it’s not a bribe.”

“Alright, if you insist, Harold.” Louis’ tone is fond. “Where are we meeting? I suppose you have a driver, so there’s no much of a worry about what’s convenient for you.”

Harry scratches his nose. Does he want to invite Louis over here, to his space, his flat that he so carefully put together?

Yes. He does.

“I was, er, thinking that you could come here. I’m a pretty good cook. I know that makes me sound like an arse but, I am. And it’ll cause less scandal that way, the prince and a footie player. You know?”

For a long moment, Louis doesn’t say anything, and Harry rests his forehead against the cool glass of the door that leaves to the balcony outside and prays that the floor swallows him up.

“Alright, Curly. But only if you let me bring wine and dessert.”

“Dessert? Do footballers eat dessert? Also, I’m not curly.”

“Afraid you are, mate. Until you chop those locks, you’ll always be Curly to me. What did the Daily Mail call them recently? Shoulder-skimming shocker, I think it was. Christ, their headlines could use some work, couldn’t they? And yes, we eat dessert.”

“You read the articles about me?”

“Not just you, Harold. Sometimes I read the ones about me too.”

Harry doesn’t want to start thinking about how the Daily Mail is a crock of shit and how Louis surely knows this, because that is a conversation that could go on all day, so he switches topics.

“So is that a yes? I’m in Notting Hill, I can send you the address. There’s only paid parking, I’ll send a car if you need—”

“Harry,” Louis cuts in. “Footballer, remember? I think I can afford the parking fee. And yes, it’s a yes. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Harry says, and when Louis hangs up a moment later, he falls back on the couch and wonders what the fuck he’s going to cook for Louis Tomlinson.

anonymous asked:

Ohhh, I'm already dying for more of the NotByChoice verse... Would you mind writing what happens next? (And if it holds any weight, personally I think Mace and Obi being v close friends with some interesting chemistry would be more fun to read than established MaceObi, but it's totally up to you and this faceless anon, for one, will be ecstatic to read the next installation either way ;) )

With a scream that seemed to rattle invisible dust out of ceiling, Obi-Wan threw another sparring droid at the wall, sweat and blood rolling down his body beneath his tunic. The beige fabric was darkened by both moisture’s, the red peeking out vividly against the paleness.

Faintly, Obi-Wan was aware of Mace, Yoda, Ahsoka and Anakin in the room as he continued his onslaught against the droids, releasing rage into the Force as he did while they observed him. He wondered what he looked like and shame joined his anger, making him even more lethal as he moved through every saber motion, every pull of the Force his instinct demanded.

And then he had nothing left.

He slid to his knees, sabers extinguishing as Anakin turned off the droids.

A careful hand squeezed his shoulder before Mace knelt down in front of him, offering him a bottle of water. “Better?” The Korun murmured.

“Calmer at least.” Obi-Wan rasped out before taking several sips of the water, leaning into the hand. He looked up as Yoda came closer to him, the old master resting his claws against Obi-Wan’s forehead for a few moments before nodding. “Calmer.” He agreed before sighing. “Healing you now require.”

“I can handle that.” Mace offered calmly, helping Obi-Wan up as Anakin came over to them, the blond surveying the destroyed droids. “I can fix these, I’m sure. Perhaps get them a bit quicker on the defense if this is how we’re going to work your rage out Obi-Wan.” He offered confidently.

“That would be…appreciated Anakin. I’d rather not destroy them every time this…happens.” Obi-Wan leaned on Mace, feeling the other slip an arm around his waist to keep him upright. “Force I’m exhausted now. Is this how Sith’s always feel? I hope we can find some karking answers.” Obi-Wan sighed tiredly.

“Overusing the Force you are, working out the rage that is not natural to you. Straining your body you are.” Yoda crawled into his chair and then got it to hover up as Ahsoka handed Obi-Wan a clean towel.

Obi-Wan sent her a small smile that she nervously returned before he started to wipe his face slowly as he leaned into Mace side. “So I have to find a way to return to normal is what you’re saying, and soon. Any luck with Dooku and Ventress?”

“None so far.” Mace sighed, pulling the other closer to him.

“Great…so the black library is still our best chance then.” Obi-Wan grumbled. “If we can find it.”

“Difficult to find the black library is. Hopeful we are to locate it though.” Yoda offered as they started walking, heading out of the shielded sparring room while Anakin and Ahsoka settled to repair and improve the sparring droids.

Mace kept his grip around Obi-Wan’s waist. “If only it wasn’t located on a moving comet…”

“Well at least Darth Oolaga got his wish about the difficulty in locating it, building it on a karking moving comet that forever moved through space, its orbiting motions lost to history so no one is really sure where and when its suppose to pass next.” Obi-Wan offered sarcastically before sighing. “I am so tired of being angry.” He sulked.

Mace squeezed his hand on Obi-Wan’s waist and the redhead struggled against another emotions he could usually put a lid on.

He took a deep breath through his nose. “Just…please get me to my quarters so I can clean up.” He sighed.

“Of course Obi-Wan.” Mace murmured.

Quietly the trio passed through the halls, Jedi who passed them bowing quickly while glancing at Obi-Wan before hurrying away.

“…Does everyone know?”

“Yes. It was easier to be upfront about the situation. Especially you’re unwillingness to be like this. And our search for the cure. The educational and the exploration corps are both at our disposal, the latter has a holo copy of the letters on your forehead. I believe both are working closely to try and locate the library.” Mace sighed and Obi-Wan nodded mutely.

“Cure you we will. Get your state of mind and emotion back. Leave you like this the Jedi will NOT.” Yoda offered firmly.

It got a smile out of the copper haired man for a few moments. “Thank you master Yoda. That brings me some comfort in this…pit of darkness I’m in.” He sighed.

“Make tea I will, heal Obi-Wan you shall.” Yoda grunted once they were in the younger Jedi’s quarters. The Korun silently took the other to the couch to do as told, carefully helping him out of his tunic to get to the injury. Obi-Wan hissed a bit as dried blood had glued the fabric to the wound before relaxing when it was gone, watching Mace.

“You did well, considering you’ve been at the droids for five hours before you got injured.” He murmured while resting his hand above the slice on the others chest.

“Thank you…but don’t praise me. I hate this. I hate how I am. I…and I know I shouldn’t be hating anything.” Obi-Wan looked away.

“…You’re still you. You’re back in control of your emotions for now. Like Yoda said, we won’t leave you like this Obi-Wan. You are one of our most promising members.” Mace looked up and then leaned in a bit, Obi-Wan’s breath stuttering in his chest.

“More tea you need to buy Obi-Wan.” Yoda called out from the kitchen, effectively breaking the moment.

Mace sat back and cleared his throat. “Ah. You…you should go take a trip in the fresher, clean up, get new clothes on.”

“I…yes.” Obi-Wan stood quickly, taking the soiled tunic with him with a nod to Mace before he headed to the fresher, taking a deep breath as he went. ‘Karking hell…’

In the livingroom, Mace dropped his face into his hands. ‘Great…just great Mace…’

“Move to quickly, you should not. Especially now.” Yoda cackled.

“…Please stop that. And stop teasing. This is difficult enough when he’s not Fallen.”

Yoda continued to cackle.

My Home

Author: kpopthrasher

Characters: Bambam x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Request by Anon

Word Count: 566

“Bam, where do you think we should put this!?” You yelled out to Bambam who was putting things away in another room. You had just moved into a house together and there was tons of unpacking to do. Luckily, Yugyeom and Youngjae had come over the other day to help move the furniture. 

As you continued unpacking, you came across your favorite baby picture of Bambam. “Aww, look at this” you called, walking towards the bedroom where he was. He stood in the closet hanging up all of his different suits and jackets. “Y/N where do you think I should put all my shoes?” He asked, looking around. “Bambam what are you.. Where is my stuff supposed go??” You asked. There was only a small space left in the large walk in closet. You didn’t even remember him bringing this many clothes. 

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darktonystark  asked:

hey u nerd bagel dont discriminate against left handed people (i put my drink on the left side at movies)(fight me)

picture this: you walk inside the movie theatre, ‘I’m so happy I’m gonna watch spiderman homecoming for the fourth time’ you think to yourself and when you get to your assigned seat there’s no space for you to place your drink bc the person at your right has put their drink in their left side while they have an empty cupholder to their right and the person on your left put their drink where it’s supposed to go ‘how on earth am I supposed to enjoy my popcorn if I have to hold my drink the whole time?’ you suffer throughout the movie and don’t enjoy it as the movie rightfully deserved to be enjoyed (+if you’re one of those people who buys nachos (why tho) you suffer even more!!) and not enjoying that movie as it deserves to be enjoyed should be a crime punished with 57 hours of listening to a child screaming bc he wants to fucking watch tv or something

lets talk about whatever you want :))

Jack Johnson - Cuddly

Request:  hey! i know you recently wrote a jack johnson imagine but i was wondering if you could please write one in which y/n and jack have a frienship but they hug a lot, tell each other ‘i love you’ and kiss each other but not on the lips (skinny love kinda thing) until one day the finally become a couple?


When your best friend is literally a star, you have to get used to fame yourself. Because there is no chance you can hide your friendship from the fans.

Johnson and I had been best friends since second grade. I was new at school, afraid of everyone, but he sat next to me at lunch and since then, we were inseparable. It was a bit hard when he and Gilinsky got famous, because I rarely could see him, but our bond was way stronger than that.

“There is my favorite girl!” he shouted from far away. I laughed at him and run towards him not giving a single fuck that we were in the damn mall. I jumped onto him and he took me into his arms.

“I missed you so much, J!” I happily sang as he finally put me down.

“I missed you too,” he said kissing my cheek. We often were mistaken to be a couple, since we behaved like one, while we were just very close friends.

I would lie if I said I wouldn’t date him, because he was the most amazing guy I had ever known, and I knew he would take good care of me, but thought he would never think of me like that.

Fans always thought that we were together, however we always denied this. Yes, we hugged a lot and it was a common thing to kiss the other’s cheek, but it was just us, being cute and being close friends.

Now he was finally at home for an entire month and we had a lot of time to spend together. I couldn’t be happier.

We went shopping quickly, and then we crushed at his place with Gilinsky and Nash.

“Guys, where am I supposed to sit?” I asked raising my eyebrows at them. There was no space on the couch, since they made themselves so comfortable.

“Come here,” Johnson said pulling me onto his lap.

“Get a room guys,” Nash commented starting the movie we decided to watch.

“Shut up, Grier,” Johnson groaned.

I made myself comfortable sitting on Johnson’s lap and it made me feel a bit nervous. Was I too heavy? Was it uncomfortable to him? Is he going to feel his leg after this? Questions like these were in my mind, when my thought was cut off by his hands. He put them around my waist and pulled me to his chest, so I was almost completely lying on him.

“Tell me when it gets too uncomfortable,” I quietly said glancing up at him.

“Don’t worry about it. It won’t get uncomfortable,” he said tightening his grip around my waist.

I could feel his scent from this close and I was distracted from the movie by his hands caressing my waist from time to time. Sometimes I had to take deep breaths to calm myself, and I just hoped no one noticed my excitement. At first I thought he was just being his cute self, but after a bit, things got more… heated.

I went out to the kitchen to get something to drink, and I was just casually pouring the soda out to a glass, when I felt two familiar hands on my waist.

“I can tell you don’t like the movie,” he murmured into my ears.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, I just got so distracted by his actions that I lost focus and I just didn’t understand it anymore.

“It’s okay,” I said shrugging. He hugged me from behind and then kissed me on the cheek, then went to the fridge. He was oddly cuddly, and I wasn’t really sure why it was. I was used to him hugging me, or kissing my cheek, but he was now a bit more… intimate. Not like I minded it, I was just curious why he was like that.

“Want to go out a bit? I don’t like it either,” he asked nodding towards the backyard.

“Sure,” I said nodding.

We walked outside, it was still warm, and the light breeze felt so good on my skin. I heard him closing the door, and I expected him to just come next to me, maybe he just wanted to talk a bit, but suddenly he just grabbed my waist, pulled me to him and kissed me. Jack kissed me in his backyard all of a sudden.

I was taken a back at first, and didn’t really realize what was happening, until he pulled away. Mostly because I didn’t do anything and I guess he thought he did something wrong.

“Oh my God, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have, I just… I do-“ he started, but then I made him shut up by kissing him hard.

He hugged me tightly and I put my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. I had been waiting for this moment since I knew what kissing meant. I always wondered how it felt to kiss Jack, even when I didn’t really realized how I felt towards him. And I have to tell you, it was amazing. Our lips moved in total sync and he was so gentle but passionate at the same time. His soft lips worked perfectly against mines and I just wanted this moment to end.

But he slowly pulled away with our foreheads still touching.

“So,” I started when I was able to speak, “this is why you have been all cuddly today?” I asked smiling at him.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist,” he admitted. “But this second kiss was a bit surprising. I thought you would be mad at me at first.”

“I was just too surprised. But I’m happy you did it.”

“You are?” he asked with bright eyes.

“Yeah,” I said nodding.

“I wanted to do it for a long time. I don’t know why this day was different, I just couldn’t hide it anymore,” he exclaimed nervously, while we were still hugging.

“You should have did it earlier. My reaction would have been the same tho.” I said laughing. He shook his head smiling.

“Then I don’t want to waste even more time. What about a real date tonight?” he asked looking excited.

“Jack, it’s almost ten, and what would we say to the guys?” I asked furrowing my eyebrows.

“The truth! And I don’t care what time it is, I want to take you out right now!” he stated grinning at me. I just laughed at his enthusiasm. But I was willing to do whatever he wanted to do after this. So I finally nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go on a date.”


n. touch or stroke gently in a loving manner

Originally posted by taevhyung

Your touch gives me more than just butterflies. 

pairing: taehyung | reader
words: 1.9k
genre: fluff
summary: from the way his fingers danced with yours, to the way his thumb pressed circles on your palm, you thought that all this was nothing but a friendly gesture.
a/n: i should be writing not worthy but i’ve been so stressed i want some floof out here

Okay, you get that being known for the ‘fucking adorable midget’ among your group of friends would maybe land you a probability of having more attention and maybe some tender loving care but nope because 5 minutes into a crowded market streets or an uncivilized frat party, your eyes could even barely stay in vision when all you could see – fuck you can’t even see anything.

Sure, being short had its perks and everything, but when all your friends are massive giants who would remind you every single time of your ‘adorable height’, messing your hair that took a perfect hour to do and the classic immature teasing, it did no justice in trying to hold back the rolling of your eyes and a flick behind their heads.

It isn’t the easiest for such a mousy person to scatter around strangers that tower over you and lets be honest here, it was terrifying drowning in an ocean of people. Not that you were complaining or whining about how small you were, but it really defies a lot of things you could do.

But then he slips his hand in yours so well, practiced till perfection and memorized the familiarity of your skin and fingers and you were a goner. Well this is probably one of the reasons you made it out alive in crowds.

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*puts giant fucking thing of eggs on counter* “have fun!” *leaves room* WHAT THE FUCK
I’m gonna have to fucking clear out the damn fridge, split up the eggs into separate fucking cartons and tHEN DO THE SHIT I WAS ABOUT TO DO BEFORE SHE GOT HOME IM SO FUCKING ANGRY AND FRUSTRATED IM ABOUT TO CRY

Ali or Aria?

The following theory is kind of long, but I promise it’s worth a read.
It might be a little redundant since I’ve included a few things that people have already pointed out before, but I wanted to mention them because I think it’s relevant in trying to piece everything together.

In S03:E19, Aria is seen holding a book titled “The Collection of Mystery Classics”

I rarely look into the different books that appears on this show because there’s a LOT of literary references thrown in by the writers. But this particular book caught my attention for some reason…

We know that Alison’s alter ego, ‘Vivian Darkbloom’ was a pen name for the author of Lolita, whose name actually happens to be Vladimir Nabokov. We also learn that it is an anagram, which simply means we can rearrange the letters of Vladimir Nabokov and form the name ‘Vivian Darkbloom’. Neat, right? Apparently this was, and is still, very common in the world of literature.

Now back to my point…the reason I found this book interesting (The Collection of Mystery Classics) is that it consist of a lot of short stories. Which reminds me of how similar it is to “Ali’s” diary (the decoy version that the girls have been studying and that Ezra stole from them).

So I did a little google search and found out the author of this book goes by Edmund Crispin. This name is also a pseudonym (basically a pen name an author uses instead of his real name). BUT HERE’S WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING… Edmund Crispin’s real name is *drumroll please*

Bruce Montgomery.


Yeah. Um. WHAT? Could this just be a coincidence?

Now I’m not sure how to tie this all together into a theory, because I’m left wondering how to interpret this into something that might give us answers…But based on the last episode (Free Fall), I’m starting to question Ezra’s involvement with Ali…

I think this whole “I’m writing a story about Alison” is a cop-out for Ezra’s true motives. Honestly, they could have known each other, sure, but I don’t believe they were romantically involved. After seeing Spencer space out multiple times due to her drug abuse, I’m starting to think that she only imagined it because she wanted to believe it. Or at least try and make sense of it.

Now why am I rambling on about this?

Hear me out. I honestly never even pegged Alison as a writer. Sure she owned a Journal (multiple apparently) that were supposed to help Spencer put the pieces together when she disappeared (remember the flashback where she talks to Spencer about it after leaving church? Btw, I’m with everyone who believes Spencer helped Ali disappear, or is responsible one way or another)

But Ali trying to pursue writing as a career? next joke please! This girl was so high-maintenance that she barely had time to care for anyone other than herself. (I’m referring to Ali before she disappeared, I’m one of those believers that hopes she has matured a bit after being on her own for a while) Also, when did she even have time to write? From attending multiple parties,hanging out with her friends, and hooking up with just about every guy from Rosewood, did she even have time to pick up a pen? (Unless she was giving her number to a guy, oop)

Now Aria on the other hand would be a better fit for someone who’s into writing and would appreciate Ezra’s input. It kind of makes you wonder if she is Uber A… I know that the writers have denied this as a theory. But the only way I think this could work is if she did have a split personality. I honestly believe she has a dark side…Maybe Ezra found out about this recently? I just feel like if Aria didn’t orchestrate this decoy by herself, that she’s actually the one who owns the journal. Maybe it’s supposed to mimic Edmund Crispin’s book? If she is, she’s literally a genius for covering her tracks and remaining unsuspected by the girls…heck, even by us!

With that being said, this makes more sense to why Ezra’s behaving the way he is recently (I’m not condoning his actions, I’m just trying to understand why he’s being all manipulative and sketchy). By alienating her away from the girls, he’s protecting her from being revealed. (Of course, he really could just be a manipulative creep).

But this would also mean that the story we saw him writing in Free Fall may not be about Alison (assuming I’m right, and that they never really had a history) Rather, I feel like he uses Alison’s name to conceal his true inspiration - Aria. Almost like a pseudonym? Do you see what I’m getting at with the reference to the book Aria is reading? Could this be the writers using this as inspiration to develop Aria’s character? Or even to build on the ‘Ezria’ storyline. Maybe he has to lie to Aria so her other personality doesn’t find out?

Back to why I believe Ezra’s story is about Aria is because it’s focused on a girl who’s good at lying. I feel like Alison loved to create drama and be the center of attention, but she doesn’t strike me as much of a liar. In fact, I think her brutal honesty is what got her into the situation and mess she’s in. Ali’s fascinated by secrets and uses them to her advantage… And these secrets are NOT lies, they’re true events. We’ve seen multiple examples of this… Her blackmailing Byron for cheating…blackmailing Spencer for hooking up with Ian, etc.

But Aria on the other hand, has been called out numerous times for being the best liar. Do you guys remember Emily saying “how did it become so easy for you to lie?” Or something along the lines of that… It was during the scene where they asked Emily to meet at Spencer’s house for an intervention because she was seeing Paige during the time they all suspected her of being A.

There was also a scene during the father-daughter dance when Mona asked the girls who’s the best liar of the group and they all pointed at Aria. Hmm…

Seriously.. Reread Ezra’s story below and keep in mind about what I just said.

Doesn’t it sound more like Aria? Their first meeting together at the Hollis Bar and Grill… she lied about her age. She told Ezra that everything is ok despite just losing one of her ‘best friend’… I’ve also read somewhere that Aria means ‘Air’ in Italian, and ‘Lioness’ in Hebrew. The show mentions air and oxygen a lot, leading me to believe it holds some significance. It just seems like a reoccurring theme that we should take note of since Ezra also wrote “lying was her oxygen” in his story. And the whole “Leave the lamb alone, Go for the lion” note from ‘A’ could definitely be a clue.

I’ve been trying to rule out the possibility of Aria having a dissociative identity disorder (split personalities), but there’s tons of evidence on tumblr that supports this theory and I’m having trouble believing otherwise now just based on everything I’ve pointed out so far.

For example, multiple blogs took notice on how Aria spells her name on the ghost train:

The way she writes ‘A’ at the end is different. Could this be an indication or even evidence that I could be right, and that the journal containing all these short stories is hers, and that the altered pages may just be her using a different style of writing in each entry? Different personality = different penmanship? Hmm…

If this theory is true, then perhaps Ezra’s protecting her, and maybe even himself….given that her split personality is a really…really..dark character. This could also explain his creepiness and trying to spy on the girls in order to make sure they do not suspect Aria of anything. Spencer is getting closer to figuring out the truth, but in order to protect Aria, Ezra needs to take her down and stop Spencer from looking. We know he’s not ‘A’ and that he’s done a sloppy job at whatever he’s doing. (Looking through Hanna’s purse, keeping the lair hidden from the girls).

I mean, this is the only explanation I can come up with that would make sense if Ezra truly loves Aria. And even just the Ezria storyline in general. I guess there’s hope? I find their love to be genuine. I can see how it could be interpreted as toxic and unhealthy though… But remember, this is based on fictional characters. And everyone’s interpretation of Ezra and Aria’s relationship is subjective.

I have no idea if I’m onto something…or if I’m way off?

Let me know what you guys think? If you have anything to add to this theory please give credit to this post and send me the link to your theory! I would love to read your thoughts on this :)



Part 2: http://hushhush-littleliars.tumblr.com/post/77785655159/ali-or-aria-pt-2

BTS Gang (Part 6 /final?)

I apologise for any mistakes OTL

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

warnings: adult language, violence

“Don’t you dare to do something to her!!” He yelled while he looked shocked at the screen of the computer that Taehyung was putting down on a table.

A voice calling it’s father was heard from the black laptop.

I slowly moved closer to look at the screen.

“DAD!!” a girl cried, tied on a chair with injuries all over her body.

All of a sudden the picture went black and Taehyung closed it.

“Hurry up or you won’t see here anymore.”

Is that the professor they were searching for from the beginning? and where they thought that I was his daughter, as they have kidnapped me?

“TALK!” Yoongi yelled and pierced his knife deeper into his skin.

“What do you want to know?!” the professor said under heavy breaths.

“The password”

“What password???”

Taehyung pulled the black USB stick out of his jacket. “To this”

“Where did you got his from!?” the man was shocked.

“Oh with some help” he said and looked at me.

“You- you are” Mr. Son was almost unable to talk as Yoongi was holding the knife even closer to him.

“Yoongi let him finish” Taehyung said while putting the stick back in his pocket.

“you are working…for… Namjoon?” Mr. son said out of breath.

Taehyung smirked and squat down to be on his eye level. “Does it matter to whom we belong to? Now tell us what the fucking password is”

“NEVER!” the professor yelled and Yoongi was back with his knife on his throat.

“Spit it out or your sweet daughter won’t be alive in any minute!” Yoongi growled.

“It’s transit umbra, lux permanet. Please don’t do anything to her!”

“Y/N take a note of it” Taehyung said.

I quickly tore out a piece of paper off a book and searched for a pen to write with.

“I-I forgot what he said” I stuttered.

transit umbra, lux permanet!” Mr. Son repeated.

“Thank you very much for your help, professor” Taehyung smiled and grabbed my wrist to leave the room.

As the door closed a scream was heard from inside.

“We can leave” Yoongi said as he came out, his hands were covered in red blood.

I was shocked again, brainlessly following them to wherever they were going now.

The halls were deserted.

We arrived at the suite we where before.

I was watching them quickly packing everything together.

“Did you  get the password?” Namjoon asked as he came back with the others.

“Sure, Y/N got it” Taehyung answered.

Namjoon made his way to me.

I was still holding the piece of paper in my right fist.

“Good job, Y/N. I guess I can say that you are a great agent” he smiled and moved his hand to stroke my hair.

Suddenly another hand slapped Namjoon’s aways.

“Don’t you dare to touch her!” Jimin said, his face was red from the anger that has filled his body.

Namjoon chuckled. “Calm down I won’t steal your bitch away”

“She is noT A BITCH!” Jimin formed his hands into fists.

“Oh my bad, I meant HOE!”

Jimin jumped at him and punched him in the face.

Namjoon pushed him away and slammed him against a wall to kick him.

Yoongi and Jungkook were amused at their fight scene while Seokjin shook his head, sighing.

“STOP IT!!” I yelled and tried to get Jimin off of Namjoon that was now punching him on the ground.

“Jimin, please!!” I said and dragged him away from him.

The older one stood up and whipped the blood off of his lower lip.

“Nice punch” he said and went to pack his bag again.

“Y/N You should change so we can leave” Taehyung said and gave me some new cloths.

I did as he told me and changed in the bathroom.

“Taehyung, what are you?”  I asked as I finished.

“What do you mean?” He giggled.

“Who are you working for? What is on the USB stick?”

“Do you need to know?” he looked away to pack his gadgets.

“YES? Since I’m kind of involved in your whole shit”

He looked up at me. “We are all a gang and I belong to them like you do now”

“No one asked for my approval if I want to stay!” I said angrily.

“No one asked, and now we are here”

“What do you mean?”

He ignored my question and took out the stick. “In here are really important formulas that can get us lots of money”

“So money is the reason why you kill people?”

“Y/N stop blabbering and move your ass here!” Yoongi called me over to him and Hoseok.

“What” I crossed my arms.

“Put this into your bra” Hoseok said and gave me a little item that looked like the thing I gave Namjoon at the casino.

“What is that?” I asked and looked at it.

“A sensor, we all have one. If we get lost, then the others can see where we are” he explained.

“No thank you” I said and handed it back to him. “That’s why we couldn’t escape from you”

“That’s for your own saftly”

“I don’t care!”

“Y/N put it in or I will! I’m sick of you bitching around!” Yoongi growled.

“You know what I’m sick of!?” I yelled.

“Y/N just do it” Jimin said and gave it back to me.

I looked angrily at him but then put it in my cloths.

“Ok guys we can leave” Namjoon said and grabbed his bags.


The voice was coming from outside the room.

“Fucking shit” Namjoon cursed and made a hand move to us that we should go to a room.

“We are going to jump out of here” he explained and opened the window.

“What??” I looked shocked down on the busy street filled people and cars.


“I’ll go first” Jungkook said all calm.

Jungkook stood on the edge of the window frame and took a deep breath before he jumped.

He landed saftly and acted all normal in the crowd.

All of them jumped, only Jimin and me were left.

“No I can’t” I started crying.

“Y/N come on we need to leave!” Jimin said and grabbed my wrist.

I shook my head.

The police was starting to hit the door.

“Shit.” Jimin said and breathed out. “You trust me right?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Good, then trust me now.” He said and grabbed my waist and pulled me close to him.

He let himself fall and me with him.

I tried my best not to scream to not get any attention of the people.

But that was for nothing since, we landed on a table of a bistro.

“Sorry mister!” Jimin said as we ran off.

Someone was calling for the police as we crossed the street.

“Where are the others?” I asked as we ran.

“You will see!”

My legs already hurt form the long run.

A black van was suddenly appearing in front of us.

Taehyung opened the door and we jumped in.

“They are in” he said to Seokjin who was driving and he stepped on the gas.

Namjoon was sitting next to him looking on a map.

“Where are we going now?” I asked out.

“To a nice place called home” Hoseok said, who was leaning against his seat.

“He means the office of our boss, to get the money” Jungkook chuckled.

“Nice but I really want to leave now” I said.

No one said anything until we arrived at a huge building.

We all got out of the van and entered it.

Namjoon knocked at a door and a man opened it.

“He is ready to see you” he said and let us in.

The room was filled with computers, weapons and other gadgets.

“Ah~ BTS you are back” a man said as he cleaned his sunglasses.

“Boss we got the stick with the password” Namjoon said and handed it to him.

The man put his sunglasses on and looked closer at the item.

“Good, really good” he smiled.

I looked around and spotted a door were ‘exit’ was written on it.

I made a little more space to them, so I could move to the door.

They were looking at a computer as they stuck in the USB.

I took the chance and quickly run to the door to leave.

“Fuck you!” I yelled as I run out.

I took the sensor out of my bra and threw it away.

“Shit where am I supposed to go now?” I said to myself as I was standing in front of two doors.

I quickly opened the right one and ended up in the same room as I was before.

“That was cute Y/N” Namjoon said sitting in a chair.

Jungkook grabbed me and dragged me to the others.

“Now you won’t pull it out that easy” Hoseok said as he put the sensor on my chest and pushed it deep into my skin till it started bleeding.

“STOP IT!” I cried.

He put a plaster on it.

I sobbed and landed with my knees and hands on the floor as Jungkook let go of me.

“Now welcome to BTS!” the boss said and I looked up at him with swollen eyes.

“Also you did a nice job there, I’m glad to have a new female member in our group” he said and put the usb in a black box.

“I don’t want to be in a fucking gang!” I yelled as I stood up.

He just sighed. “We had to choose between killing you or to let you join the gang and we choosed this way because we don’t want to kill such a sweet young lady” he smiled and left with a hand motion.


“Yoongi kill me” I said and run to him.

“What?” he looked amused at me.

“Come on kill me! Take out our gun! Shoot me!!”

“Y/N calm down!” Jimin said and pulled me away from Yoongi.

“I want to be death!!” I cried.  “Kill me Jimin!“

“Sshh” he pulled me tighter to him and stroked my hair to calm me down.

“I think we should go and rest” Namjoon said after a while and they all left.

Jimin leaded me into a room and told me to sleep a little.

“I don’t want to sleep” I said angrily. “How am I going to sleep knowing that m life is over?”

“Just try ok? I’ll stay here with you” he smiled.

“Taehyung said that no one asked to be in this gang, what does that mean?”

“We all are here for a reason” he explained “I lost my family and this is the only family I have now”

“I’m sorry” I said and looked at the ceiling “I also lost mine”

“I’m sorry” he said and leaned his head on the bed while sitting on the floor.

“We are all the same” Jimin said. “That’s why we can’t leave” he closed his eyes.



“Why are you so nice to me?”

“Haven’t I told you that I like you?”

“Yes you did” I giggled.

“So? Isn’t that reason enough?” he giggled with me.

I learned more about them now.

I guess I should accept my destiny.

Or not?

Post-CoHF Alec headcanon

So I have this headcanon about when Alec moves in with Magnus.

  • It’s gradually and he just starts to have more an more shit over at Magnus’
  • At some point one of them is just like ‘you know itreally wouldn’t make a difference if you/I would move in here’ and they just stare at each other for a while
  • Alec just shrugs and is like ‘might as well do that’
  • (Besides, the institute doesn’t feel like home anymore. Too much has changed.)
  • It takes some time until Alec can move all his stuff over because 'there is no space in the wardrobe, what the bloody hell Magnus?? Where am I supposed to put my clothes?’
  • When the others realize what’s going on they offer to help him carry stuff.
  • But when he gets everything organized he’s missing sweaters
  • And at first he’s suspecting Magnus threw them out and they have a fight. Magnus swears he had nothing to do with it but Alec doesn’t believe him although he eventually let’s it slide
  • It’s not until he finds Jace passed out in the library wearing one of his sweaters that he realized what actually happened.
  • The general excuse is that they needed something of his for comfort in case he was not there himself.
  • Izzy’s got two, one of which 'would have been Simon’s’
  • Clary get’s to keep her’s because she told Alec that 'this way she could always pretend to be him in case Jace needed his parabatei, which, let’s be honest, is every five minutes’ 
  • They keep sending Alec pictures of them in their sweaters with a pillow that wears Izzy’s spare sweater. 
  • (The pillow has a frowning face drawn onto it)
  • When Magnus finds out he thinks it’s hilarious.
writing while sad

I am a major fan of your writing, I wanted to say that your books have helped me a lot. I have been avidly reading them and they have helped with some things going on in my life. I have Fibromyalgia, High Functioning Autism, Bipolar and anxiety. I go to college but had to drop out of this term because it was way too hard for me to handle but I plan on returning next term to continue my degree to become a special ed teacher. Your books have been helping me get through the worst of the pain and the depression I have been having. I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia about a month ago and ever since then things have gotten hard for me. So, when I feel alone I go to your books. They help me stay away from the worst of my depression. For some reason, Jace’s quirkyness and his funny disposition and attitude get me out of that funk. Thank you so much for giving us this awesome book series because it’s been a blessing in these hard times.
Also, I am a writer as well and I keep starting to write a book then I just stop and go to another, never finishing it. Do you have advise for someone like me? Like, for writing?

I just wanted to thank you Cassandra Clare. I’ve been suffering depression for nearly two years. Not that long, but painful for me. I have experienced alienation, loneliness and self-harm.
But when I read the Mortal Instruments, I feel like I’m part of the story and that I’m not alone. I have suddenly felt a part of something. I’ve stopped self-harming. Now, I feel like I’m getting better. I may still be depressed, and I may suffer this for the rest of my life I fear, but whenever I have felt at my worst, I read the Mortal Instruments. It has saved my life in ways you cannot imagine.
I no longer feel like I’m alone. I no longer feel ugly. I feel part of something much bigger than myself.
So, I want to thank you for saving my life. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic but I owe you so much. If you could find time to possibly message me back and give me advice on writing, I would be even more in your debt.

One year ago my house was destroyed. I lived in a hotel for about two months. During those two months I was bullied. I was stressed, depressed, and even questioned myself why I put up with people constantly kicking me while I was down. When I read the first page of The City Of Bones I was so intrigued. It was like you pulled me in closer and closer I finished all the books in the second week of September. I fell in love with the characters especially Jace and Clary. The characters in the book have showed me too fight for what i want and never give up, and braveness is key. I'am currently reading Clockwork Angel which by the way is drawing me in more and more. I want to thank you for writing these books because they really have changed my outlook on life and books. The only thing I ask is that you please, please give me writing advice as you can see I’m not the best writer but one day i hope to be an author like you.

I’m writing you from Italy, so sorry if my english isn’t great.
You can think that I’m a happy teenager with a perfect life, who loves your books. But of all this, just one thing is true ; that I love your books.
I’m not a happy teenager, I’m self-defeating and tried suicide. I hoped to die , but I am again here, alive.
I thank you so much, because your books distracted me from the blade , and the desire of my blood flow from my wounds.
You are a very good writer, you wrote a perfect urban fantasy, not based only on vampires and werewolves. And your story has a plot! After i failed my suicide attempt, I thought that the only way to escape from the idea of doing it again was to follow my dream of writing a fantasy book. But I am stopped sometimes by sadness. Can you give some advice, to write this story and realize my dream?

After struggling through years of bleakness and depression, I found your books and they helped me incredibly, especially Clary and Jace. (If you want to write more about them there’d be a lot of excited people. No pressure.) How much they changed, how much they loved each other. How Clary was a real person with flaws and I was reminded that even flawed and imperfect people can save the world. And she was a girl. It broke my heart and put it back together. It made me want to write fantasy books of my own, but that’s where I have a problem. I don’t know if you’ve experienced depression or sadness but it’s paralyzing. I feel like I can work or write anything because I’m stuck in this quicksand of misery, and the only thing that would come out on the page would be misery, and there would be no joy like the joy I felt when Clary and Jace kissed in the greenhouse (tell me that happens in the TV show? Please?) I want to write about love but I don’t know how when I can’t even love myself. Any advice?

I took the identifying names off these because they’re so personal and about such sensitive material. But I think they speak to the fears of many artists, both those experienced and those just starting out. We write from our own hearts and own emotion — what do we do when those hearts and emotions feel broken? How do we write when we feel crushed by hopelessness, when terrible sadness douses the light of our inspiration?

I’ve been struggling with this a lot lately since I’m writing two books and also feeling overwhelmed by anger, sadness, despair and disappointment. Sometimes it feels so bleak and overwhelming that I am filled with fear, because I feel disconnected from my ability to write about people who are happy when I am not, and because it puts me in a position where sometimes I hate my own characters (mostly not the ones I’m writing about, but it’s still a frightening space to be in when I know I have to love them all, even the villains.)

I suppose for me the advantage is that I’ve been here before in the past. I had probably a year of depression around when City of Bones came out, and I had to write City of Ashes and City of Glass. 

What I found was that it didn’t help me to sit down and think “I need to write even though I am miserable. I will force myself.” What did help me was to sit down and think “I am miserable. How do I sort through that misery using my writing as a tool?” 

Someone once said, “Sure, writing is easy: you just sit at a typewriter and open your veins.” Which makes it sound horrifically painful. But if you think of it as opening yourself up to let the toxins out, it can help. You write your grief and anger and fear and loss and disappointment. You use those emotions in yourself, which are so strong they feel controlling, to fuel your writing. 

We make art out of our influences, but also out of what we’re feeling. For me it’s helped to not think of those emotions as ugly. They’re human. I give those conflicts, despairs, griefs, and disappointments to characters, and through the characters I’m able to disperse some of that weight from myself. Jem hitting Will in the face is my anger, Alec’s frustration with Magnus my frustration, Isabelle’s grief over Max my grief, Tessa’s pain my pain. 

Try to switch off the part of your brain that says you should be ashamed for being unhappy. Sadness isn’t weakness, or petulance. Grief can have immense power. Try to think of yourself as full of that power. You have the capacity to feel strongly. Many people don’t. Think this is a source of my strength and power. Think I will put my feelings of sadness and despair into words and I will have created art. 

In no way am I saying I know how to solve depression. I wish I did. But that is a different issue. I am only speaking to the issue of what it means to be an artist while you’re unhappy, and how not to keep that unhappiness from preventing you from writing. I can only promise it’s something I struggle with too, but in the past I’ve managed to make it not just empower me, but also produce some of the work I’m most proud of, like the epilogue of Clockwork Princess. Try to think I am in the dark now, but I will use this power I have, to dream up new worlds and new people, to create a light so bright that not only can I see by it, but other people can, too

And the best of luck and good wishes to you all. I look forward to reading your words. :)

a trend i’ve noticed

One thing that annoys me about boy positivity blogs, is their constant need to guilt trip the community they adhere to. And I’m not saying all of them do it, but a lot of them. And what I mean by that is the mods constant “Hey, we can have our positivity, but girls matter more” or “We can have our positivity, but we’ve gotta make sure boys positivity isn’t overrunning girls positivity” or “boy positivity is nice, but make sure your respect girls all the time”…

And I’m not saying that respecting girls is wrong, or respecting girls positivity for that matter is wrong either. But here’s the thing. I rarely, if ever see disrespect for girls in boys positivity communities, or in mlm communities. It’s all about “yeah boys need their positivity, but don’t speak over women” and like, I just don’t see where people are getting that from.

If anything, it’s the other way around. I can’t count how many times people have redirected our posts and tried to veer them toward women’s positivity and wlw positivity, and while I have nothing against wlw and girls positivity, our posts are not meant for that. Furthermore, I feel that there is some type of internalized hatred or misandry for men, even in their so called “positive spaces”. I repeat again, I have yet to see blatant and popula rdisrespect in the boys positive/mlm community toward women.  Because if that was the case, I wouldn’t be co-running a boys-positive blog given that I am a woman (same with the other mod) and I wouldn’t put myself in a community where I felt misogynistic attitudes toward me.  And in the boys positive community I don’t.

And again, I feel that the boys positive/mlm community is really missing the point. Here some blogs are, trying to make commotion of an issue that is simply not happening, but ignoring all the hatred that is coming to your supposed safe spaces by almost all of tumblr and not only do you let it happen, but you support it.

Furthermore, it’s just guilt tripping and internalized hatred toward males that is very prominent through the boy positive/mlm community. If you are posting male positivity, but every seconds trying to put your made audience in their place by telling them stuff like ‘women can do no wrong’ or ‘let’s not outshine girl positivity’, while indirectly reinforcing the idea that men, no matter if they are suffering , don’t deserve positivity nearly as much as women do, then that isn’t really positivity nor is it uplifting your target audience.

It’s literally turning on them, and guilt tripping them for just wanting to be happy and wanting positivity. And I hate that. I’ve had to go to so many positivity tags and see them turn on their male audience in favor of the tumblr attitudes toward males and it’s just upsetting and I think extremely misleading if you’re claiming to be male positive.

Again, there are problems the male positive community faces. One huge problem is the fact that many of our posts are hijacked in favor of girl positive posts, but instead of talking about that, many of these blogs actually cater to that behavior, and guilt trip their target audience for being upset. And again, another issue is this misandry and male hatred very prevalent through male positive (and especially mlm) blogs and I think that needs to stop.

Female positivity  is good. WLW positivity is awesome.

But so is male and mlm positive, and like women/ wlm positivity is for women, male positivity and mlm positive is for men, and men shouldn’t be guilt tripped to think otherwise or feel bad about themselves bcs these mods can’t keep their hatred for men out of their positivity post.


“Shademag is a product of our friendship and aspiration to inspire youth like us. It’s all about creative positivity and inclusion. We are shining a light on artists of color and all the cool, amazing people we meet everyday.”

Meet the powerhouse duo behind SHADE MAG in this exclusive interview with creators Apryl Fuentes & Azha Luckman.

Photos by Jazmin Jones

Keep reading

Frankly, if they are reading this…

Fuck it. It’s fiction. Deal. 

“Maks. Where are we going?”

“You did good tonight. I am very proud." 

"Why, thank you,” she leaned over the center console, gave his cheek a kiss. “But that still doesn’t tell me where we’re going.”

He chuckled. 

“C'mon, Maksy,” she cajoled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Tell me." 

"Are you trying to seduce me, or get me to talk?” he asked, smiling. 

“Ehhhh - a little bit of both,” she answered, running her nose down his neck. He was always doing it her, she supposed, turnabout was fair play. 

“Well, Miss Davis,” he pulled into a space, put the car in park. “I’d ask you to do your worst…but we’re here." 

She looked out the window, intrigued. 

He kissed her nose, pulling open his door. He went around to open hers.

She stepped out of the car, looked around. The area looked unfamiliar to her, but as L.A. wasn’t her hometown, a lot of the places that Maks took her to were. 

"Where are we?”

He smiled, amused at her endless curiosity. “I wanted to show you something." 


He secured the car, began walking with her. “Dance is just one way of expressing love of one’s culture. With the Latin dances, you see it especially. The history of dance, the culture of it - it’s almost as interesting to me as the act of doing it." 

They rounded a corner, Meryl seeming to hang on his every word. 

He continued. "I became a Latin dance champion, and I’d like to think I deserved it. But I think what set me apart from some other ballroom dancers is that I respect where the dance came from. I respect it’s origins, and it's metamorphosis from what it was then to what it is now. On this show, it’s great that I can do whatever I can to further my craft - but, some of the elements, the foundations of a style gets lost. The subtlety of particular dances gets lost for ratings, or what looks good on tv. That’s what happened with our salsa tonight - it was a salsa, but it was filled with tricks and things that aren’t necessarily true to its original art form. But here,” he stopped as they reached their destination. “they will.”

They had stopped at what appeared to be a bar. Maks opened the door…and they stepped into a new world. 

It was hot, and dark. The music blasted out of the speakers, and it was a happy, festive rhythm. There was a smattering of tables, a small bar. 

And a dance floor. 

The place was full, but not packed. People were scattered around, small groups sitting at the tables, but the majority on the floor. 

She stood still, awed by the movement. 

This was not the salsa that Maks taught her - oh no. This was better, hotter. The women weren’t dirty whores, like Maks had wanted her character to be - they were confident women completely in tune with their sexuality. The men twisted and turned them, showcasing their remarkable skill. 

Meryl didn’t see one flip. 

She was awestruck.

“This,” he whispered in her ear, “this is salsa." 


He began to lead her onto the floor, and Meryl protested. “Maks! i can’t dance salsa here - they’d laugh me out this place! I can’t -”

“believe that you show so little trust in me,” he interrupted. “You know I do do this for a living, yes?" 

"But-what if people - ”

“Recognize us? They won’t. Val, Tony, & I have come here plenty of times, and we’ve never had a problem. C'mon, I want to show you how salsa is really done." 

Her protests died on her lips as a fresh question came into her mind. 

"Have you ever brought any of your partners here?" 

"From the show? No." 

"From…” she paused. She didn’t want him to think she was some jealous harpy, but…the question had to be asked. “…anywhere else?" 

She’s frickin adorable, he thought. 

"No, honey. You’re the first woman I brought here. I thought you would like it." 

She looked up at him, incredibly happy, and a bit embarrassed, that she was so transparent. 

She looked towards the floor. 

He pulled her towards him, hands cupping her face.

"C'mon, baby,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Dance with me." 

She nodded - yes, yes, yes. 

She was, quite simply, having the time of her life. 

She shouldn’t have worried that her salsa skills weren’t up to par. Like usual, Maks made her completely comfortable. With the show, it was a bit strange for her - to dance for the simple sake of dancing. The people around her weren’t competing for some silly trophy - they were dancing for the simple joy of it. 

She loved it. 

True to his word, no one bothered them. There were no cameras around, no photographers in hiding waiting for that one shot. 

They were in a crowded club, with plenty of people, and yet they were in complete privacy. 

At first, she was shy to dance - from what she saw, a lot of the people here could be on the show, they were so good. But as she began to dance, she began to lose that fear. Maks had a way of making her feel like the place was empty, and they were the only two there. They danced closer than ever, Maks sometimes kissing her nose before he turned her, ending some dips with a scorching kiss. 

They were just like everyone else. 

She found that she liked this style of salsa better than the routine that they had performed earlier that evening. While this style was faster, with more complicated turns - it also brought out that confident femme fatale that he had wanted to showcase earlier in the evening. 

Meryl found herself almost preening for him, taking cues from the other women there. He had a way of making her feel like she was the only woman in the world, the only one that mattered. He made her feel sexy, and confident, and powerful. In this journey with him, she had found herself able to entrust the innermost parts of herself without fear. 

He made her feel weightless. 

She loved him so much.

It was approaching two in the morning when they finally left. She felt like she was high, she was so happy. Her body was exhausted, but inside, she felt like she could run a marathon. 

Love was miraculous. 

They were laughing as they made their way back to his car. She needed to get this out, needed him to know. 


She leaned against his car, looked up at him. 


“I need to -,” All of a sudden flustered, she did what came naturally. 

She jumped up into his arms, and kissed him. 

He trapped her against the car as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She wanted this to kiss to say something - wanted him to know her feelings without the words. She wanted to tell him that he made her feel beautiful. That every moment spent in his company was a gift. That he was one of the most inspirational people she had ever met, that he inspired her. That he made her feel confident, and sexy. That she never wanted to sleep without him again. 

She wanted this kiss to say that. 

And thousands of other things. 

When they finally came up for air, they were both gasping. 

“What,” he panted. “What was that for? Tell me, so I can do it again for the rest of my life.”

She smiled, looked deep into his eyes. 

She wanted to see his reaction in there first. 

“I just…,” Come on, Davis, she admonished herself. “I love you." 

The smile he gave her lit up her entire universe. 


She looked at his lips, then back up to his eyes. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. 

He kissed her, laughing against her lips. She knew she probably should be insulted, but his giddiness was contagious. 

“You think me falling in love with you is funny?” she asked, smiling. 

“No, no, no,” he admonished her, pecked her lips. “It’s just,” he closed his eyes, breathed her in. “You said it. You actually fucking said it." 

He opened his eyes, the look on his face breaking her heart. "You mean it?" 

She nodded, her heart near to bursting with emotion. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she knew. She wasn’t supposed to do the show and find the man that lit her up inside. She wasn’t supposed to fall so hard for a man that she essentially just met. 

Fuck it. She always was a rule breaker. 

"Say it again,” he demanded. 

She laughed, feeling glorious.“I love you." 

"Now take me home, so I can show you…" 


Ooo is finally COMPLETE! Come visit this Adventure Time theme town at 5400-4653-3937. The dream address has changed to 5400-4948-5707

I’ve put months and months of work into this town, trying to make it as loyal to the show as possible. I started this back in March of 2014 and have been working ever since to give you an idea.

I did have to take artistic liberties in some areas to make it work within Animal Crossing’s limitations but hopefully even the most fanatic Adventure Time fans will be impressed!

I am always open to critique on how I can improve this to mirror the show so please don’t be afraid to send in some helpful suggestions on what I can do to make this town truly MATHEMATICAL! Please keep in mind, however, that I do not have any more pattern space available for display directly in the town.

Questions of course are welcomed too! Don’t get who a specific villager is supposed to represent in the show? Ask! Don’t understand why I placed an item where it was put or how it relates to the show? Ask!

And finally, please share your dreams of Ooo! I’ll be keeping eyes on the tag #adventuresinooo to see what kinds of adventures you guys get into while visiting.


i fucked up trying to put my name in the kim kardashian game so now there’s just a blank space where my name’s supposed to be every time someone talks to me so i’m just considering it part of my brand

i am a pause

a thought

a breath

i am everything that ever has been or will be