you order this shit

down the line i’m screaming

His phone was ringing. Jeff pushed the button to accept and held the phone to his ear, waiting.

“Swoops?” Kent was clearly still at Bad Bob Zimmermann’s ceremony, Jeff could hear it in the background. He’d honestly been a mess lately, and it wasn’t just hockey. He’d been quiet and even more private than normal.

“Yeah, man,” Jeff said. “What’s up?” He had a game to start in a few minutes.

“I messed up,” Kent said, his words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to, it just – you weren’t watching the ceremony, were you?”

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@YOI Fandom:

RESPECT YOUR ARTISTS AND WRITERS

THEY ARE NOT YOUR SERVANTS THAT YOU CAN BARK ORDERS AT AND SHIT ON WHEN THEY’RE NOT MAKING CONTENT THAT FIT YOUR STANDARDS. WE MAKE STUFF FOR OURSELVES AND OUR OWN ENJOYMENT. IF YOU DONT LIKE THE THINGS WE MAKE, MAKE YOUR GODDAMN OWN CONTENT!!

ARTISTS AND WRITERS ARE HUMAN BEINGS AND SHOULD BE TREATED AS SUCH!!!! 

how to stick your plans

by a horrible procrastinator

scheduling:

  • keep things realistic. you may think you can read 200 pages of jane eyre in one night, and honestly, you could…but you won’t unless that essay that’s 30% of your grade is due, you know, tomorrow.
    • you know your habits better than anyone. try to work around what you know you’re going to do. can you read about 25 pages without getting totally bored/sidetracked? well, make yourself do that. it’s only 25 pages, right?
  • try to accomplish one thing every day. don’t ever let your day slip away from you without doing anything. even if that “one accomplishment” is making a stupid text post on tumblr or revising your notes or washing your sheets…just be productive!
    • this is especially important for those of you with mental illness! having a “zero day” can really plummet your mood or set you in an unproductive rut.
    • if you really feel like you need a day to just chill out, napping can count as your accomplishment
  • don’t push studying off! you’ve probably heard this one a million times, but seriously. don’t. you’re not going to retain 10 weeks worth of information with one study session…okay, maybe you can, but do you really want to?
    • the best, low-effort way of remembering information is to, at first, review it often. right after you learn the material, review it a couple times during the week. maybe re-write your notes that weekend. then, the next week, visit one or two times, just glazing over parts you don’t really remember well. then, maybe once every two weeks, etc…by the time you get to finals, you’ll be familiar with all the information! trust me, it works.
  • organize your to-do’s. personally, i make a huge to-do list for the entire week. then, i delegate different ‘levels’ of urgency to it (see below.) you can do this however you want, but i do it this way to help me visualize how lazy i can be and not pay for it…
    • i tend to organize it by these ‘categories’ / ‘urgent levels’
      • is there a quiz on the material due soon
      • how likely is there to be a pop quiz
      • what’s my grade in the class like / how badly do i need that ‘a’
      • does the homework/assignment need to be turned in
      • etc

actually doing it:

  • studyspo helps. okay, i know this is kind of obvious considering i’m a studyblr, but… you see that notebook you just bought? isn’t it fucking adorable? don’t you want to make some sweet, sweet note-love to it? you know you do.
    • don’t spend too much time setting up your work space or browsing tumblr. seriously. you know when you’re overstepping.
  • have some nice playlists. preferably with music you already know! if you don’t know the song already, chances are it’s just going to become a distraction.
    • 8tracks is a great site for this! you can make your own mixes or take a listen to one of the many, many study / chill playlists available. again, take a listen to the track on your way to class or whatever before actually trying to study with it on.
    • instrumentals + classical + video game music are the standard
  • get organized. messy = stressy. seriously. organize your desk, organize your notes. even if it’s not really your style, at least try to keep things ‘in your personal order.’ try to pretend you have your shit together. you will be so much more productive & confident if you feel in control of your situation.
    • if you’re a perfectionist, you may want to disregard this. really. you don’t want to put ‘tidiness’ above productivity.
    • taking pictures of your awesome, super-nice work space is awesome motivation. give that illusion of productivity. become tumblr famous.
    • if you can afford it, matching stationary and cute shit like that is super awesome feeling. it makes studying aesthetically satisfying.
  • take care of yourself. brush your teeth, put on that nice-smelling lotion, drink water. eating healthy foods, getting some exercise, all that good shit people tell you to do…it really is important. it’s kind of hard to focus or remain motivated if you’re miserably bloated & haven’t showered in 3 days.
    • especially for my neurod or mentally ill followers!

i fucked up

  • repeat after me: IT’S OKAY. IT’S OKAY. we all fuck up. you’re allowed to fuck up. sometimes assignments don’t get done, sometimes we don’t do as well on tests as we’d like. it’s okay. you’re okay.
  • recovery. alright, so, now that we’ve accepted that we’re human beans who sometimes grow upside-down…
    • cuddle in a blanket, and write down what you think you did wrong. did you not study enough? do you need to go to your professors office hours? write down your ideas.
    • let your failure motivate you! you hit your lowest point, alright? now you can focus on doing better, even if it’s just a few points difference.
    • you can do some things wrong. you don’t need to get an A every single time. did you understand 50% of the material? well, that’s halfway there!
    • you’re not going to be perfect at everything. we all have growing pains.

well, that’s all i have to say. keep growing towards the sun, kids.

7

So this was The Worst sexual pick up line (is this even a pick up line? idk idk idk) I know. I hope i didn’t sprung you too much with it, it was a very tough one to work with. Oh, and just in case you were planning on using this: fucking DON’T. Unless your kink is getting roundhoused in the fucking face.

BTS as Roommates

Jin:

  • ”hey, Third Guy From The Left, pass the remote”
  • cleans up after you, cooks for you, nags a lot; he’s basically your second mom
  • your friends coming over to hit on him
  • which he’s totally down with; “I’m worldwide handsome, what do you expect?”
  • your parents wishing you two would get together
  • you two cuddle sometimes and it’s fine, it’s nothing romantic. just two friends chilling in each others arms,, move along ppl, nothing to see here
  • you’re his taste tester
  • so he often makes you stand by while he cooks, so he can spoon boiling hot sauce from the pot into your mouth to ask if he needs more salt
  • buys you BTS merch
  • “I better be your ultimate bias” “look at me, I’m everyone’s bias and bias wrecker” “the real visual of BTS taehyung better back off”

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Suga:

  • you joke that he’s basically a ghost
  • he’s usually not there, since he’s at the studio or doing promotions, concerts, etc. and when he is there, he’s sleeping
  • whenever he’s there and actually awake you’re like “who are you? I didn’t know you lived here” “shut up and tell me what there is to eat in this house. are there any lamb skewers?”
  • like I said, he’s mostly not there but when he is, he wants to spend some time hanging with you. the boys are fine but he’s so Tired of their antics that time with you is like a breath of fresh air
  • you don’t do much, just watch tv and order take out but it suites you both just fine. he usually shit talks other celebs during that time, so you know all the inside gossip
  • “wait, he’s cheating on her with the model??” you gasp
  • “yeah, I caught them fucking backstage”
  • “well, damn :( he was my bias”

Originally posted by sugastoungetechonawlogy

J-Hope:

  • so f*cking loud omg u wonder why you still live with him
  • he’s energetic and loud (I can’t stress the loud part) for the most part, even waking you up with pans banging or singing in your ear
  • insists on “roommate bonding time” which is just an excuse to go out, get drunk & bring back f*ck buddies
  • has the LOUDEST sex
  • and walls are thin
  • but he apologizes w pizza so,, there’s perks to that
  • walks around half naked
  • flirts w your hot friends/family members but always asks you if it’s okay to make a serious move on any of them. he doesn’t want to cross any lines that would leave tension between you two
  • keeps trynna hook you up with one of the boys “except Joonie he’s gross” “he’s exactly like you” “exactly”
  • always texts & snaps you, sometimes about roommate stuff (”did I leave the stove on?” “which brand of popcorn should I pick up?” “did I leave my keys in the apartment?”) and sometimes just to chat
  • he likes to send you updates about BTS
  • he facetimed you at the BBMAS and does so just in general, so you get to see what idol life is really like … lots of sitting backstage, tired but running on adreneline, being hungry, etc

Originally posted by btsarekings

Rap Monster:

  • your place is the hangout spot. the guys always come over whether it’s to chill or hold house parties where you’re like “let’s not get twisted and ruin the furniture” but uh,, let’s just say you two aren’t getting your deposits back
  • refuses to let the guys even hit on you; “you’re too good for them. I’d rather hook you up with someone better. do you like Jackson? wait, nvm he’s worse than us”
  • totally cool w you bringing back one night stands
  • hell, he slips you protection too if you need it
  • is also very aware of you when you’re both out, that no one tries to slip you something or take advantage of you
  • takes you home if you’re too drunk
  • nurses you as you throw up but gives you hell for it the next day
  • he’s basically more like your chill cousin than a roommate

Originally posted by snowmons

Jimin: 

  • proTECT PROTECT Protect at ALL Costs
  • he denies this but he loves having you dote on him
  • it’s a nice feeling, to come back after a long day to your food, a warm home and just chill on the couch with you
  • he feels comfortable around you, talking about his worries or about his day
  • turns into Big Brother mode if you’re going to a party or if you start dating. no guy/gal even sets foot into that apartment unless they’re 100% Jimin approved
  • you’re both protective of each other, like siblings, so living together is a joy

Originally posted by bwipsul

V: 

  • super touchy,, everyone thinks you’re dating but nah man it’s just friends kissing friends, how’s that not normal?
  • will crawl into your bed quite often
  • brings home food
  • insists on late night “adventures” to the convenience store, where you just buy junk food and movies on sale
  • jungkook practically lives there
  • you keep “joking” that he needs to pay rent but it’s not a joke anymore like seriously u use up all our hot water give us money
  • he loves having ppl over, not just jungkook lol, but your friends and his other friends,, your place is usually busy and always a warm environment
  • buys you matching “friendship” outfits and bracelets that legit are just friendship stuff, no dating
  • he tells you about his crushes (even before jungkook but don’t tell him)
  • and you two stay up some nights, stalking yours and his crushes, on their social media accounts, having panic attacks when you accidentally like shit from 38 weeks ago

Originally posted by bwipsul

Jungkook:

  • watching anime 25/8
  • offering him protection when jimin stays over; “but we’re just friends” “yeah right sure. just hmu if you need them”
  • it took him a whole year to warm up to you though
  • he was so awkward and shy, often keeping his distance
  • he walked in on you pooping once and it took two months for him to walk back into the apartment (he’d been sleeping on jin’s couch lol)
  • now he farts around you
  • you two rank the fart based on sound, funniness and smell
  • *choking* *tearing up* “good one (y/n) that’s a solid 11/10″
  • will blush himself to death if you bring home someone
  • doesn’t really bring anyone over himself. he’s too uncomfortable w the fact that you’re there to try anything.
  • doing childish shit like pranks and eating each others sweets
  • “kook did u eat my green sweets?”
  • jk, with green tongue: “no, how could u accuse me??”

Originally posted by nnochu

We finally get to see Lotor’s Face and

it’s a dorito 

it’s a fuckng dorito

yaoi sempai triangle faced fuck

just gw2 senior things
  • when hero points were called skill points
  • when maps didn’t show you whether you were above or below something
  • when you had to like buy books or some shit in order to train your skills
  • when falling to your death broke your armor
  • when your armor being broken meant it didn’t work at all
  • when you had to PAY to repair your armor
  • when dyes were only unlocked per character
  • when daily tasks were super generalized (along the lines of “kill 10 different monsters today”) and as such much easier to do no matter where you were
bad | 01

 He was the cliché bad boy. He was the guy you couldn’t stand. He was the handsome, hot kid who made girls go weak in the knees. He was a brat. You had never liked him one bit, but you had also never gotten involved with anything concerning him. Until one day, when you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Originally posted by thesoshisone

MEMBER: jeon jungkook x reader

GENRE: romance, smutish, fluff

WORDS: 2 506

WARNINGS: badboy!jungkook, cussing, mature

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07coming soon

A/N: if people like this, I’ll make another part. it won’t be a long series, though. this will probably be cliché af. but please, pretty pretty pretty please tell me what you think. THANKS.

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Ah love, What a useless waste of time. 

Wider [EruRi]

I think this tweet is hilarious, so uh, I wrote this. 

Levi dislikes going to the dentist, except… well, guess who his dentist is this time. Rather cavity inducing fluff. As always, it’s on Ao3.



Levi hated the dentist’s.  


He hated doctor’s appointments with the same ferocity, for that matter.  It wasn’t a phobia, per say; he wasn’t afraid of needles or pain.  It was that strange hands prodding at his body made his skin crawl and the overly clean scent of latex and disinfectant reminded him of the germs squirming, unseen, across the counters.  Foreign hands, foreign germs, all over his body, leaving marks he couldn’t see and had to scrub away blindly.

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When they’ve got him in the interrogation room every officer seems to have the same question; was it worth it? With all that happened, with how it turned out, the years of drunken revelry, the constant media attention, the heists, the hubris, the way it ended in a bloodbath the likes of which Los Santos has never seen. This is your legacy Ramsey, was it worth it?

They ask like his answer means anything, ask like they even care what he thinks, ask like they don’t think he feels anything at all. They ask like it wasn’t his plans that brought him here. Like it wasn’t his plans the led to six body bags and a single pair of handcuffs, a room full of tactless officers and a kingpin with no one left to call crew. They ask like can’t help themselves from asking.

Was it worth it?



There’s never a serious discussion, no big heart to heart, but there’s no escaping the fact that the Fake’s all know they are dying in slow motion. More or less signed their own death certificate’s years ago, living on stolen time, and sooner or later they’ll find themselves in the ground.

They took Los Santos by storm and defended it with their lives. With each others lives. Have sacrificed themselves and the ones they love to a city that takes no prisoners. They fought hard for their crown, and kept on fighting every single day to succeed, to profit, to reaffirm themselves as the city’s biggest bads. They knew that they would only be unstoppable until they aren’t. Until the day they fall, and eventually they must fall.  

Even after all the years of action, all the blood, sweat and tears they’ve poured into this empire, everyone knows there is no such thing as retirement for the Fake AH Crew; for all they’ve already trained their own successors the frontrunners of the reigning crew in Los Santos will never be allowed to simply step down and move aside when their time is over. Between old enemies and constant rivals, members of law enforcement and anyone simply looking to boost their own reputation, there are countless numbers who would hunt them to the ends of the earth. Everyone knows, one way or another, the FAHC is going out bloody.

And by god, did they go out bloody.



The Fake’s die halfway through the afternoon on a Tuesday. What a fucking inconsequential day right? They were owed a Friday at the very least, were meant to go out past midnight, meant to go out in a blaze of glory. They were meant to go out all together. They weren’t meant to go out at all.  

The wheels fell off weeks before, a series of questionable jobs and public fights, a level of disorder totally out of line with the crew’s trademark cohesion. Rumour has it they were rife with in-fighting. Rumour has it after all this time the cracks were finally showing. Its easy, afterwards, to read into the events that came before, to manufacture clues, to swear the writing was on the wall for anyone to see. In reality no one saw it coming. In reality the whole damn city was taken by surprise.

Maybe they bit off more than they could chew, maybe they were distracted, out of sync, or maybe it was just the inevitable finally catching up with them but in the end the Fake’s wind up in a firefight they aren’t winning. After endless years of near misses and close calls, of lucky runs and brilliant timing, after thousands of impossible victories, the FAHC finally lost.

To lose like this, picked off one by one, powerless to save themselves, to save each other, must have been their worst nightmare. With every body on the ground those left only grew more furious, more reckless, lose whatever feeble grasp on self-preservation they ever had, throwing away any possibility of retreat in favour of retribution. It wasn’t enough.

In the end the only one left breathing on either side is Ramsey. The scene finally gone still, silent, the echoes of screams and gunfire fading away into a shivery stunned kind of shock. They say Ramsey’d fallen to his knees amongst the grime, iconic suit near indistinguishable under all the dirt and ash, the blood of men and women who thought they’d live forever. He kneels there in silence while sirens grow ever louder, makes no move to flee, doesn’t even look up from bodies as cars scream to a stop around him.

The messed up thing, the really fucked up part? They say Ramsey was laughing by the time the police got there. Say he stood and brushed himself off, surrounded by the bodies of those he claimed family, drenched sickly red while his empire lay in ruins, and laughed. And god doesn’t that confirm what everyone’s always thought, doesn’t that just prove he always was a monster. Never cared for anyone, for anything, not really. People used to say the one thing Geoff loved was his crew but it seems Ramsey’s cold-blooded ruthlessness won out in the end.



In the fallout of a travesty, of a victory, of an unexpected bloodbath, in a stark grey room faced with a distressingly apathetic villain, in circumstances none could have predicted, all the detectives seem capable of asking is if it was worth it in the end. They ask and ask and Ramsey’s answer never changes, his cold smirk never fades, so calm and unconcerned they catch him glancing at the clock, as though he’s bored. As though even now he’s got somewhere better to be. And still, full of horrified disbelief, they have to ask.

Was it worth it? Yes. Was it worth it? Always. Knowing what you know now, knowing how it ends, how they all go down for you, would you do it all again? Every damn time. Surely you have regrets, you had to know one day it would end like this.  

Oh baby, who says it’s over?



It comes together as a joke more than anything, the cumulation of too many late nights followed by too many bad movies. Their last job was tense, a heist with months of preparations and so much on the line, and while they’ve certainly celebrated their victory like royalty they didn’t come away unscathed. The injuries, numerous though mostly minor, serve to once again remind them all how lucky they’ve been so far. How most don’t make it nearly this many years without tragedy, couldn’t be in the game this long, let alone running the game this long without signing up for devastation. How losing a member, to outright death or crippling injury, is without a doubt only a matter of time at this point. How such a loss will be so much worse in this ridiculously close-knit crew than any they’d experienced before.

Sobering thoughts, combined with the difficulties of winding down after endless weeks of  stress eventually leads to the discussion they never have, the question of what else they could be doing with their lives, what choices brought them here, what they would do if they could just step out, sign off, retire. It’s not that they’re bored of this life they’ve built – how could they be when the world is their oyster – but there’s no denying the fact that after all this time terrorising Los Santos doesn’t quite thrill them like it used to.

If you’d asked any of them ten, five, hell even two years ago they’d have scoffed at the idea of ever retiring, would have sworn up and down that they wanted to go down in flames, to end with a bang, and at the time they meant it. At the time it was true. It still is, in a way, they’ll probably always see something dreadfully appealing in going out on top, but with every passing year it’s harder and harder to look at a room full of people they love and consider playing a role in their deaths. Every time they get hurt it takes a little longer to heal, the old aches and pains are becoming more prominent, and their ever growing patchwork of scars have started looking less badge of honour than they do morbid countdown. Obviously they’ve still got it, still in their prime enough to keep their crown, but between age and gratuitous injury, time is creeping up on them all.

The Fake’s used to joke about the end, said whoever lasted longest won, got to make off with the fortunes, live like a king, but that reality isn’t quite so funny anymore. The idea of surviving, of being left behind with nothing but cold hard cash and heyday memories is enough to make them physically ill. So maybe retiring doesn’t seem quite so unappealing anymore.

Maybe a passing comment way too late at night, after far too much mixing of alcohol and pain meds, in the spirit of some dumb con movie they’d all been heckling, was enough to plant an idea. A ridiculous, unrealistic, completely unattainable idea, but still an idea nonetheless. They’re all a bit hung up on it, still joking, still assuring one another that they aren’t serious, but still bringing it up all the same, running through all the possibilities.

It would take far more than simply disappearing; they have too much wealth and notoriety, have far too many enemies, the world is simply too easy a place to comb through these days. People, at least the vast majority of people, would have to be convinced not to come looking. Convinced there was nothing to look for, nothing to track, would have to think the absent members of the Fake AH Crew were in the one place no one could ever reach them.

There are ways, of course, to feign death. For those with the right contacts, with endless money and enough resources, there are ways to trick the body into something close enough to pass, at least for a time. But even then it’s not so simple; there must be witnesses, there must be evidence, crook and cop alike must be sure. Of course with a public death comes increased risk- it wouldn’t do to go so far in their act that appearances became reality, to go to such lengths to imitate death only to wind up that way regardless. Somehow, someone’s going to have to play guardian, prevent anyone’s corpse from catching a stray bullet to the brain, or jerking back to life too late with guts already laid out on an autopsy table. Someone has to be ready to whisk them all away, and who do any of them trust more than the man they’ve been following all these years. The boss they’d die for. The boss they will die for.

They don’t talk about it, because no one wants to admit it might be happening, no one wants to burst the bubble, to invite reality to rush in and crush the unbelievable thought that the Fake’s might get a happy ending, but at some point they stop laughing. At some point they each quietly start getting all their ducks in a row, using their free time to organise their affairs.

No one questions the way Geoff and Jack have started having day-long meetings with the support crew in-between jobs, the way Lindsay’s spending far more of her time recruiting than ever before, the way Gavin’s taking calls at all hours of the day, rarely in english, clearly haggling over something. They don’t wonder why all their money is getting moved around, why Ryan and Michael are busy collecting all outstanding debts while Jeremy and Ray are plotting the layout of the police station, the morgue.

It’s all happening on the down low, all behind business as usual, but eventually, after nearly a year of quiet organisation, they are just about ready to disappear. All that’s left is the bang, the flashy smoke and mirrors, the hook to stop anyone coming after them, anyone even thinking to track them down. One final step, one last decision to make, a choice they must commit to as one or not at all. All they’ve got left to do is die.



Over the years the Fake AH Crew has grown exponentially but the original elements have never drifted apart, never gone looking for something else or turned on one another. The crew has flourished, become a full blown empire, but nothing can touch the unity of the innermost members, as strong now as it have ever been. For all their loyal familiarity was mocked back in the day, for all their closeness was seen as a weakness, after all these years it seems only death itself will seperate them now. If they had the chance to evade their own mortality one last time, to get out, to be free, would they make the leap?



The Fake’s die halfway through the afternoon on a Tuesday. Pattillo, the Vagabond, Mogar and the Golden Boy, Little J and Brownman, but not the boss. Well not on paper anyway – any who knew them must know Ramsey’d never recover from the loss. Any who didn’t just know the LSPD took seven bodies away that day and none of them ever came back. It’s not a stretch to assume Ramsey’s survival was a rumour. To believe it wishful thinking, to say he died at the scene or died at the station, delayed injury or the cops cleaning up the last loose thread of the group who’d made their lives living hell for years.

There’s paperwork out there, somewhere, claiming a different story. A report that barely makes a lick of sense, the sworn record that a kingpin arrived in chains and left with corpses, slipped out of his cell like he was never there, without a hint as to how he got free. He disappeared like smoke, not a trace left behind, and none of the seven alive or dead ever resurfaced. The story is embarrassing, inexplicable, and it reflects badly enough on the LSPD that it is quickly buried.

Even if it hadn’t been there are few who would believe it. Few who could believe for even a moment that Ramsey could walk free and not be with the last of his crew, that he would let another run his empire, run his city, if he was in any way capable of preventing it. No, however it went down Ramsey did not survive. It’s fitting, really. No one can live forever and the OG Fake’s were certainty pushing their luck, had been pushing it for years; a crew that close should go out together.



The Fall of the Fake AH Crew isn’t much of a fall, in the end. The seemingly inevitable power vacuum one would expect following the death of the group who’d been running the city for endless years never comes. It shouldn’t be possible but even after the most devastating loss imaginable the the FAHC isn’t toppled from their throne. They restructure almost overnight; many of the oldest, original members of the support crew bow out, disappear on the wind without a trace, but there are more than enough left behind to fill their shoes. It’s almost perfect, almost unbelievable, some of support shuffling into the spotlight while still more unknown faces are revealed to boost their ranks. Their ability to keep their enemies at bay during the turmoil is impressive enough, but it’s the absence of internal conflicts that is truely boggling; there are no betrayals or executions, no public power plays or jealous feuds, somehow the city’s most scrutinised gang managed to completely restructure after the loss of not just their leader but all their key members without a single hitch. Almost like they were ready, like it was planned.



If the Fake’s had the chance to stay together, to start over somewhere else, stop waiting for the day one of them inevitably doesn’t make it home, but in return they had to step away from the action, give up everything they’d built, hand if off to legacy and fade out into legend, would it be worth it?

Apparently, yes. For all of them, from the moment the possibility arises, throughout every conversation, every debate and consideration, with everything they will lose, with everything they stand to gain, every goddamn time without fail, yes.



Somewhere out there, worlds away from Los Santos, a man sits on a private beach. He isn’t armed with anything more than a beer, there are no weapons, he simply sits upon the sand enjoying the breeze. There’s a woman to his right, sunbathing, a man to his left doing the same; golden tans make their startling number of scars stand out in stark relief but the heat of the sun does wonders for stubborn pains. At the shoreline old friends are knocking shoulders, bumping each other nearer and nearer to the water, not quite rough-housing like little boys but they’re getting close, voices rising on the wind.

The single house behind them is huge and noisy, full of music and chatter, full of monsters and overgrown children, the most loyal humans the man has ever had the honour of knowing. In a brief moment of silence sound from the television drifts down to the beach, an American news anchor reporting the latest infraction of some criminal organisation in a far away city; the house cheers and kicks back into a merry roar. Down by the water there is a betrayal, a splash and screeching protest as one winds up in the waves against his will. Safe on the sand, without a trouble in the world, the man laughs.

Say Yes to Distress (Rafael Barba x Reader)

@ohbelieveyoume
@xemopeachx I finally got it up!
SHOUT OUT TO @mrsrafaelbarba FOR PROOFREADING THIS!! *insert gospel hands*


“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! We’re gonna be late if you don’t speed up!”

How interesting it was for you to make such a statement, given that Rafael could only go as fast as your tugging from ahead allowed him. At least, it would have been interesting, had you not roused the man from his sleep in such an abrupt manner. Rafael Barba was a very busy man and one who had learned long ago to appreciate what downtime he had to the best of his ability. So if there ever was an opportunity to sleep in, he would sleep like a rock after capping a night out on the town with some hard liquor. And he was quite grateful to share such a trait with you. Curled up, your back to his chest, being the big spoon to your little spoon underneath the comforting shield of the duvet with the familiar sounds of the bustling city below your apartment playing in the background – that was how he liked his Saturday mornings.

Not being woken up to your cold hands smooshing his cheek after he failed to respond to your whispers or even shaking him. And certainly not getting marched out of bed, into the shower for only five minutes, a quick breakfast of Eggo waffles (weekends were usually the only time he could even get breakfast!), and out the door to the rowdy streets of New York. He much preferred this sound to be on the other side of the window, rather than up in his ears. However, the honking of car horns and rattle of construction and shouting of commuters was almost drowned out, if not for you taking up the most of his attention with your incessant command: “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” You’d been saying it since he’d lumbered out of bed. And he’d been asking why since the Eggo waffles.

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So many nazi tears on that one post i made

I’m sorry that you don’t have an official membership to the nazi party, or whatever you people are calling yourself this days so you think you’re not technically one of them. But if you hold their ideology, defend their actions, sympathize with them, make excuses for them in fiction or real life, you my dear are a nazi. 

It’s 2017, Trump is president. His entire cabinet is filled with members of the neo nazi and the kkk. Two organizations with shared ideology who are dedicated to inflicting all kinds of violence upon people who are not white, straight and cis. 

It doesn’t matter if its fiction, if you identify, defend and support nazis, then you are a nazi and my enemy. 

Cardiovascular Palpitations Pt. 2 (ft. Jeongguk) [M]

Originally posted by nnochu

→ fluff, smut, angst, really fuckign fluffy smut 10k
→ friends with benefits au, doctors au ft Taehyung
part 1 | part 2 | story talk

Yay! This was super cute but I’m seriously so glad its over lol I didn’t edit so its not my best work but it’s officially the longest thing I’ve ever written so I hope you like it! Let me know what you think, and I’ll be uploading a story talk and drabbles about this au soon! 

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Perks of the job: these past few weeks, I’ve seen so many people (all ages, all genders) reading their crisp new edition of The Handmaid’s Tale, curled up in their Starbucks armchair—It MAKES ME SUPER PROUD. You go, Gideon, you continue watching good tv shows and subsequently buying good books and learning about life and social justice through solid literary dystopias.