who ya mad at

i think one of the reasons that i like cal so much is that he has ambitions and goals and dreams outside of mare

also im laughing @ ya’ll kpop fans who are mad at jaden smith wanting to release a kpop song. like just say kpop is for koreans already and leave it at that bc these lame ass excuses of jaden not being trained enough (which is a fucking lie you dingbats he’s been trained vocally for years, can dance, and has acted since he was like 5) are not cutting it. stop trying to make up extra ass reasons for you to be mad when we all know why you really mad.

I’m more than happy to be your scapegoat and target of anger because I don’t care I literally can’t take this seriously but if I’m not the only one who thinks that way, as evident by the asks likes and reblogs….who are ya mad at? Anyone who doesn’t think like you? It’s a tv comedy.

anonymous asked:

I've been feeling extremely anxious and depressed lately, I've been constantly getting bullied as the "weird kid, as well as the loner". This has resulted in me starting to self harm myself.... Can you please do something with murdoc and 2d cheering me up and getting angry that people having been bulling, as well as getting upset over the self harm and kisses the scars, and fluff like that? Sorry if this is too specific, thank you so much for what you do, your stories always cheer me up. Love ya

(I’m so sorry, love. Your skin is too beautiful to have scars. If you ever need to come vent or just need a friend, please message me. I’ll be here for you. I’m here whenever you need me. Btw I’ll gladly take names so I can go fight whoever hurt my baby!)




~ You were in the bathroom when 2D found you. You were sitting with your back against the bathtub. There was blood from fresh wounds running down your arm. 2D immediately grabbed your arm and grabbed a cloth to clean the blood. He stayed quiet as you flinched at the slight pain of your cuts being cleaned. You couldn’t look up at his face, he knew why. “Ya shoulda come ta me.” He whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a shaky breath. “I know…” 2D’s next action shocked you. He leaned down and individually kissed each cut. 2D sighed, “I hope dos punks like hospi’al food.” You had started to cry again. He looked up at you and wiped away your tears with his shirt. “Who mad’ ya do dis?” You sniffled and wiped your nose. “There’s several of them.” 

~ 2D growled and your head shot up. You’ve never heard him do anything like that before. “No one’s gonna hur’ ma baby ‘n get away wit it.” You looked a bit concerned, “Thank you, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” 2D smiled and said, “Mudz has got frien’s ev’ywhere. He’ll get one a dem ta kick dere ass.” 2D pulled you into a long hug. You cried into his shoulder as he held you. “Don’ let dem ge’ into ya head, love. Ya so perfec’. I couldn’ imagine a life wit out ya. I love ya.” 2D hugged you tighter and you buried your face in his neck. “I love you too…”


~ You had just woken up when you noticed Murdoc laying awake next to you. “You were talking in your sleep again.” He said without looking at you. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. “What was I saying?” “You were talking about them.” Murdoc growled. You suddenly felt your blood go cold. “Oh…” He sat up and looked at you. “I thought we agreed that you would tell me if those fuckers continued messing with you?” You avoided eye contact. Your arm started to itch under your sleeve. You had fresh scars that were acting up because you were feeling nervous. You scratched your arm as you spoke, “I thought they would stop. When they didn’t I just felt too scared to tell you anything.” 

~ Murdoc looked down at your arm. You looked down too and realized that blood was coming through the shirt. He grabbed your arm and pushed up your sleeve. You quickly looked away as he said, “Oh, love…” Your eyes filled with tears. “I’m going to kill those shitheads.” Murdoc snarled. He went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and got to work on your arm. “I’ll take care of them, babe. You don’t need to worry anymore.” As he wrapped up your arm, he took a second to admire it. “You’re flawless.” He lightly kissed your arm before wrapping it up. Murdoc pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “For every scar they put on your arm, I’ll give them ten more.” He kissed the top of your head and held on to you tightly. He was already planning his revenge when he felt your tears against his shoulder. “Shhhh. Rest, love. This nightmare will be over when you wake up.”

anonymous asked:

Got any dancing demons in your world, Dagwood?

“Oh, you mean that guy? Well… eh… even around here we only know half the story at best. We don’t know what happened, exactly, but we know it ain’t pretty… so we, uh, treat that whole thing with a certain amount of respect… ”

“… Besides, ya never know who might be listenin’… or who might get mad… so can we talk about somethin’ else, maybe?”


Started writing this months ago back when I was out of commission by a sudden cold for the better part of a week. Must have been really feverish because I don’t remember writing most of this at all.

Danny debated knocking a third time as he waited outside Valerie’s door. Further down the hall, a dog was barking in a neighboring apartment while someone screamed at it to shut up. The yelling and barking went back and forth like an argument. 

The door made the sound of moving chains and heavy bolts. Valerie answered in her Nasty Burger uniform and Danny stood awkwardly in the hallway as neither of them could find anything to say.

“Uh…hi,” Danny tried lamely. 

“Hey,” Valerie said tentatively. “Thanks for coming.”

Oh hey wow they were officially having a conversation and no harsh words or ecto-bolts were being exchanged look at that they are such adults. 

Keep reading

Watch on imjaebeomtrash.tumblr.com

Youngjae being the cute lil sunshine he is ^-^

Fifty Pounds Chapter 2

Fifty Pounds

A/N: Yes, I made up a band for this chapter. I am most definitely not sorry. Let me know what you guys think! I’m having WAY too much fun with this fic.

 Chapter 2

It had been an unnaturally long day. Finn had woken up in the morning to find that the artist who’d bought the rights to his latest song had turned it from a slow, acoustic ballad into a dance hall nightmare, drowning out the poignant lyrics and chords with a generic dub step beat. He really shouldn’t have cared- he’d already gotten paid for it, really, and that was to be expected, but he’d been so proud of that particular piece, and ever since they’d moved him up from sound engineer to producer he hadn’t had as much time to work on his pet projects. Then, he’d toiled for hours arranging a new piece for one of his label’s indie artists, going back and forth with the sound engineer who’d taken his old job, Hard Amy. It had all been well and good until her laptop died, taking the last hour of mixing with it. Finn had to lock himself in the break room to collect himself before he could step out to try recovering what was lost. Then Chop, good ol’ Chop, darling fucking Chop, had given him a ring and reminded him that he’d unwisely agreed to accompany him to the new cabaret club that night, where Finn was currently enjoying being laughed at by a bevy of half-naked women and being told that the woman he’d been about to drop fifty pounds to see was actually tone-deaf.

“Wha-?” Finn said. “But…the posters say all the performances are live! No recordings! That’s half the appeal!”

Chloe’s eyes and voice are flat. “Yeah, and they’re true.”

“Then how–”

“Another performer. She sings, I look pretty on stage and flap my gums a bunch.” Chloe mimed crooning into a microphone exaggeratedly, her mouth opening wide for a silent belt. She cut off the display abruptly, crossing her arms and looking him up and down quickly.“S'not exactly rocket science. Look, I know you’re disappointed. You can keep your money, this is pathetic enough as it is.”

She turned to move back behind her curtain.

“Who’s your voice then?” Finn asked, before she could disappear.

“Go away,” was her response. Behind him, Stacey the Peacock giggled maliciously. Finn wondered how he ever could have found that girl attractive; he’d never seen anyone take such transparent pleasure in someone else’s misfortune. 

“Look, I’ve made a fool out of myself enough comin’ down here,” Finn said. “And I swear on my life, I won’t go spreadin’ rumors about you not being able to sing or nothing. You go on bein’ Aphrodite.” The name seemed silly and trite now that it was revealed to be nothing but a stage identity, Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, of course given to the most beautiful girl of the troupe. “But you know as well as I that not everyone can sing like your…your friend can, and she should know about an opportunity if there is one, right?”

He wasn’t used to saying so many words. His place was behind a laptop or a turntable making other things make sounds. At the end of his declaration, his head felt a little light from the effort.

But it had been worth it. After a second, a small voice responded through the curtain.

“Her name’s Rae.”

“Ray as in Raymond?” Finn said, startled. That voice had been so distinctly feminine, though, how could a bloke hit notes that high-

“As in Rachel.” She mumbled something else, probably an insult to his intelligence. 

Finn waited a moment for her to elaborate, but when several seconds passed with no further comment, he stepped back on his heels.

“Thanks so much…er…Chloe,” he said. Then he turned to Samira, who was no doubt hanging back to show him out. “Sorry for the trouble, Samira,” he said, “but could you maybe introduce me to this Rae person?”

Samira scrunched her face in annoyance. “What do I look like, an errand girl? Only did it the first time cuz it seemed funny, to be honest, and my break ends in five minutes-”

Finn sighed, then pulled out the fifty pound note he’d intended for Aphrodite. It was a hell of a lot of money, and maybe tomorrow, he’d regret dropping it. But he’d parted with it already in his mind, so that made giving it to Samira that much easier.

“Yeah, well, now I’m paying you. You can help me out, yeah?”

Samira looked down at the note, then back up at Finn, and then with a curl of her lips, plucked the fifty pounds out of his hand and tucked it into her bra.

“C'mon, then,” she said, sweeping in front of him and leading the way.


Rae stretched backwards on her piano bench, sighing with satisfaction as each vertebrae popped dully. She hadn’t been able to watch the show, but Archie had told her that the crowd had been especially fun tonight. “Almost took a flower to the eye!” He’d said, far more excited at the prospect of being blinded by a carnation than he had any right to be. And Chloe, of course, had been an absolute vision. Izzy had trussed her up in this new gown that looked like it’d been made from stardust, and she’d never thought her biffle had ever been more deserving of her stagename. It was no wonder, Rae thought a bit enviously, that Chlo would have fans. Fans who would pay fifty fucking pounds just to see her up close! Who had money like that? They weren’t on stinking Broadway; they were literally just a group of misfit ex-theatre dorks in a dead-end town providing entertainment. And this fan had been a looker too, not a fifty year old businessman looking for a beautiful sugar baby like they were used to! He’d seen Rae standing there and looked away, probably wondering what a minger like her was doing in the company of so many lovely ladies.

Her fingers ran over the keys pensively, playing out a chord. She was glad, though, that it was Chloe out there singing and not her. She didn’t want to see the looks on the patron’s faces when they saw that their next performer wasn’t some little, curvy bird in a bedazzled bra, but a huge, ugly cow. They’d demand their money back.

Outside her door, she could hear voices. One sounded a bit like Samira. She liked Samira a lot- she was one of the youngest girls at the theatre, and had been part of the acts for the first two weeks until juggling show rehearsals and her schoolwork at the nearby Uni became too much for her and she’d had to drop down to being a server. It was a royal shame, too; Rae had put together a cover of a Sia song just for her, and Samira’d only been able to perform it twice. 

There was another voice, mostly unfamiliar, accompanying Samira’s. A male voice. That was odd; she knew all the guys at the Theatre pretty well, at least by sound. And Samira wouldn’t dare bring one of her beaus to the practice room; if Kester caught her trying to sneak a quick romp on the Baby Grand, she’d be out on her rump.

A knock sounded on the door. Rae jumped in her seat, then stammered out a “Yeah?”

“Hiya, Rae,” Samira said, sticking her head through. “Listen, ah, I’ve got someone who wants to meet ya. Don’t be mad, he gave me fifty quid to bring him, and you know I’m a little behind on the rent this month-”

Someone wanted to meet her? Bollocks. 

“No worries, love. Bring ‘im in, I guess.”

Samira opened the door a bit wider and revealed the last person she’d expected- the bloke from the dressing rooms, the one who’d been mooning over Chloe. God, was he fit. Black leather jacket over a red t-shirt, dark wash jeans and well-kept converse draped over a body sent in straight from the gods. True, all the male back-up dancers at the Grand were gorgeous, but they existed on another plane of good-looking reserved for models and actors and Rae could hardly find them attractive (her loins took one glimpse and decided it was a wasted effort.) But this guy was just barely ordinary enough to get her heart jumping. She’d never known how to talk to fit boys. Except for Archie, but as he wasn’t exactly gynephilic, he didn’t really count.

Why was a guy like him wanting to meet a girl like her, anyway?

“This is Finn,” Samira introduced briefly. “I’ve got to run, I’m at the bar next and I’m running late. Bye!”

She ran off, her sequined dress tinkling as she went, and Rae realized in alarm and horror that she was now alone with this…Finn. She winced as the door clicked shut behind them.

“What can I help you with?” Rae said, as professionally as she could manage.

Finn had the grace to look a little nervous, biting down on his lip and turning away before looking back at her again. 

“I was just talkin’ to Chloe…erm, Aphrodite, I mean, and she told me you’re the one who does the singin’.”

Rae narrowed her eyes mistrustfully. “Yah, I do,” she said shortly, waiting for him to continue. 

“Well,” he finally managed to meet her eye, “Then, Samira was tellin’ me how it’s you who picks the set list for the performances here, you work out how the covers work and all, and…” He paused, took a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re…you’re really fucking good.”

The color is rising to her cheeks before she can stop it. So, he was coming to compliment her?

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking down.

“It’s the truth,” Finn muttered. “But anyway, I was thinking that with a sound like yours, you should go pro. I’m a producer at WhisperDome-” Rae gasped, that was where the fucking Pigeon Racers had started their career- “and I was wonderin’ if, maybe, you’d ever considered a music career? Something bigger than a little club in Stamford?”

The card he held up in his hands verified him as legit. Unless this Finn had a nasty habit of printing off glossy business cards with the label’s logo and his name on it for shits and giggles, at least.

The ecstasy and hope sprung up in her like a sprout and then died almost as quickly as it came. Stars don’t weigh sixteen and a half stone, she reminded herself. Stars have got to look nice and sound nice. Either this guy was here to make fun of her, or he’d been mistaken about her looks and thought she’d be prettier.

“You’re takin’ the piss.”

“I’m not!” Finn said, exasperatedly. “Look, if I was takin’ the piss, I wouldn’t have spent all that money tryna meet you, right? Why would I be taking the piss?”

“Cuz I know how these record labels work,” Rae shot back, “and they’re looking for the 'whole package.’” She swung around in her seat to face the piano again. “And obviously, I’m not that. Plenty of good looking girls with decent sound who could make it big just under this roof, so it don’t make sense for you to be here right now." She said the last bit softly, but there was nothing in her tone suggesting she was fishing for compliments. She wasn’t trying to get him to tell her she was wrong; she was speaking truths. If Britney Spears was fat, she’d be singing in her dressing gown in a mumu, not on stages across the world.

"Some places care lots about having real…specific aesthetics, yeah,” Finn countered, choosing his words with obvious effort, “but we’re not one of them. You can arrange music, and you could sing the sodding phone book and I’d sit here and listen. I dunno why you’re in this place, to be honest. Not even getting to take credit for your own sound.” He paused at the same time that her eyelashes lowered bashfully. “I’m not promising anythin’, you might start up as back up or somethin’, but I could help ya get your foot in the door.”

So basically he’s saying that I’m talented so they would take me on despite the fact that I’m a blob. Sounding good might distract from the fact that I don’t look good.

But he also thinks I’m talented. I mean, I know I’m talented. But this is different!

Like, we’re talkin’ professional level! 

“You ever meet Barney Mayfield?” She tried changing the subject, running her fingers idly over a few of the keys. 

“Yeah,” Finn said, cracking a bit of a smile. “Was probably the best day of my life, actually. Pigeon Racers was solid back in the day.”

Rae’s mouth dropped. “I was only jokin’! You’ve actually met him?”  When Finn nodded, she held up her hands in jealousy. “Well? What’s he like?”

 "Brilliant, but he talked like he was stoned all the time.“ He paused, then bit his bottom lip in a way that was just slightly too distracting. "I mean, well, he probably was stoned all the time, but…” He trailed off with a shallow shrug. 

The fact that she thought Finn was deluded didn’t stop her from gaping at him in awe.

“How’d you get to meet him?”

“Early days at the company. They’d just been picked up by a bigger label, so they was sayin’ their good-byes, and I happened to be there, scuttling around gettin’ everyone coffee." 

"Holy…holy fuck.” Rae’s hands grasped into the piano as if to keep herself grounded. “That’s awesome.” Almost as if she couldn’t help herself, she continued. “You meet anyone else?”


Then Finn recounted the story of how he’d met Liam Gallagher of Oasis, and Rae nearly had a conniption because Liam Gallagher had been the god of her teenage years. She’d been to a concert in Knebworth when she was sixteen and practically passed out in the middle of the mosh pit when Liam Gallagher had stepped a little close to the edge of the stage. She told Finn as much- “I think I got a bit of his sweat on my face, wiped it off with a napkin and nearly put it up for sale”- and Finn laughed so loudly that she started to laugh too, and soon they were both bowled over, nearly wheezing with laughter. At some point, he’d taken a seat next to her at the edge of the piano seat, close enough to feel intimate but with enough space between them not to feel inappropriate.

“He as much of an arsehole in person?” Rae managed, still grinning.

Finn shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I heard he was comin’, so I wore a Man City kit to make sure he’d like me.”

“It work?”

“I got a nod out of him,” Finn said, closing his eyes as if to relish the memory of Liam Gallagher acknowledging his existence.

 There was suddenly something so loose and easy about their conversation. She cared about music almost to the point of pathology; music was what brought her up when she was down, what she was good at, and she knew almost too much about it. But so did Finn. He asked her what her favorite kind was, and she’d responded of course with “the good kind,” leading to a discussion of whether mainstream pop could ever fit this category. (Rae thought no, though there was no denying their catchiness, while Finn seemed inclined to think that there were a few gems among the rough.) They both agreed that boy bands were the worst things to happen in the history of sound, though Rae admitted to having a One Direction song on her MP3 player (“Chlo really loves it, okay!”)

She’d never met a fit boy who actually wanted to talk to her as anything other than a means to an end (and the end was usually Chloe.) Granted, he wanted something from her- her voice- but she’d already refused him that and he’d still hung about to chat. That meant something, right? That he was actually enjoying her company? Rae had plenty of friends, sure, but most of them were ladies and the lads were either allergic to seafood or treated her like one of their own. 

Eventually, their conversation came to a lull, and she turned to find that Finn was looking intently at her, a small, unreadable smile on his lips. After a second, he dredged his eyes away to glance at his watch.

“It’s two'o clock in the morning,” he said dumbly. 

“Jesus.” They’d managed to kill two whole hours. 

He really ought to stop smiling at her like that. It was doing things to her gut.

“Well, Rae,” he said, standing up from the piano chair, “It was lovely to meet ya. I should…” He yawned loudly, “I should head home.”

“Oh,” Rae muttered, with a wide smile. Was that it, then? “So, you get your fifty pound’s worth?” She said cheekily.

His eyes twinkled, and a look that could only be described as mischievous crossed his face.

“No, no I don’t think I did, actually,” he said seriously. When her smile dropped, his recovered. “I’m thinking I’m gonna need a few more exclusive meetings with Rae Earl before I get my money’s worth.”

It took her a second to fully comprehend what he was saying he wants to see you again, you knob and in the time it took for her face to transition between dejection and delight, he’d started to lose confidence, playing with his hands like he didn’t know what to do with him. 


Oi, is he asking me out? 

Finn was scrawling something on the back of his business card, then handed it to her. “That’s my cell phone number. Give me a ring, yeah?”

She looked down at the digits in her hand, her heart thumping in her chest. “Yeah. Course.”

“Right. Cheers. It was lovely meetin’ ya, Rae.”

“You too.”

One more warm smile, and he was out the door. Rae waited a few moments to make sure he wouldn’t burst back in before slumping backwards in her seat, hitting a few errant keys on the way.

“What the actual fuck.”

natarisaru  asked:

The fact that tons of people cry about the Romance languages (Latin,Spanish, Italian, French, etc..) being transphobic simply because they have mostly gendered nouns is ridiculous. It's bad enough they call learning a new language "cultural appropriation" and call any discussion about biology "cissexist", pretty soon, they'll be calling anyone who speaks those languages (whether a person who learned it or who's from that country) a "transphobe". It's madness, I tell ya, pure madness.