#can't believe i was having mental breakdowns because of you . when youre LAME . youre a LOSER . no one will EVER LOVE YOU . LOSER . IDIOT

[stump-not-found]

Sorry if this has already been answered, but does Ford celebrate his birthday? I know its pretty hard to keep track of time when its ... nonlinear in the multiverse but I feel like Bill would know. And to ford every once and a while Bill demands his attention and he comes back to the pyramid to the wildest (worst) surprise party. The cake is human skin, candles are those really long wisdom teeth. Ford hates it.

i'll call out that a main plot point of chapter 4 is the fact bill gets ford presents on his b-day so yah its a regular thing, but they celebrate the day after his b-day

first birthday together bill probably does the skin cake thing but ford just rolls his eyes and sighs . bill almost fucking shoots himself after that response

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡midnight whispers♡¸.•*

pairing: college!peter parker x college!Muslim!reader

summary: reader is peter's partner living across the world── literally, and this is what it's like to date him.

warnings: mentions of guilt tripping, 'if one more thing gets thrown at me I will have a breakdown', patience testing, spiraling mental health, fear of parents, lame sex jokes, slight angst, mostly fluff tho.

note: no gender specific pronouns used!! this oc is very personal 🌚 BUT I tried to make them as relatable as possible for everyone <3 enjoy!!

gifs are not mine I couldn't choose a Peter to think of while writing this 👩‍🦯

Catching a breath seemed impossible today with the amount of housework your mom seemed to have piled up for you, it was one task after the other and you couldn't even sit down for a break.

Your arm was sore from the amount of scrubbing and wiping you've done, your back is sore from how long you've been standing around the house and kitchen, and you were in dire need for a shower. And a well deserved nap.

By the time you were done, it was already 10pm and you were starting to get anxious, it's 2pm in New York, which meant that Peter is on his way home from college. You usually text him to make sure he got home safely but only call him when it's past 6pm for him, that's when he usually finishes patrol and starts doing his homework.

Your directly younger sibling was the only one that knew about Peter being your boyfriend, but they didn't know the things you knew about him. Like the fact that he's spider-man, or that he's a year or so older than you.

You took a minute to sit and hold your phone in the kitchen where you were supposed to grab a cup of water, instead you scrolled through your phone and texted Peter if he's made it home yet.

As soon as you pressed send, your mom walked in and your heart accelerated, without taking your eyes off of her your fingers worked from memory to hide your conversation with Peter and press into another with your best friend, who also happen to be somewhere in New York.

You texted them a quick hello as your mom raised a suspicious eyebrow, you only hummed in question and when she shook her head, you dropped yours, knowing that if you pretended any longer she will catch on to you.

Having a boyfriend was one of the biggest 'no-no's you could ever have from your parents. They always warned you about talking to strangers online but that created the best friendships you've ever had. You no longer connect with the kids from your college and not having friends have made you lonely── and not the good kind fo lonely. Having an online social life was the only escape you could have from your reality.

"Can I see your phone?" your mom asked, demanded actually, but she managed to mask it up as a request. "Why?" you asked, a slight whimper in your tone and you curse yourself. She will definitely be taking it now. "Just because, hand it over."

You knew that arguing will get you nowhere, and she might take it for longer than just a few hours, so with a silent sigh you pass her the phone after locking it, and she hides a smirk before walking out.

Privacy wasn't a thing anymore, you believe, every time you do the tiniest of things it has to mean you've done a scandal that will bring shame to the rest of your family, when truly it's just a skipped video or a text from a friend. You've grown scared to talk about certain topics with your non-Muslim friends in fear your parents (more likely your mom) to see those conversations and come up with her own wild assumption that you can't really defend yourself against because she's already made up her mind about you.

And it's so upsetting because you get to see your friends or these random people in your day-to-day life, and you get to hear about the amazing relationship that they have with their parent and it makes you so sad knowing that you can't have that. That you won't ever have that because sharing the simplest of details from your life with her will lead to a lecture and an argument and a long road of guilt trip that you're not ready to go down on, so you just keep your mouth shut and smile. It's how things are, it's how they always will be.

By midnight, you ask for your phone back from your dad. He's the only one who remotely listens to you and treats you like an adult; unlike your mom who's still thinks of you as a 16 years old child. "I have an online lecture at 10 tomorrow morning, you both will be at work, how am I supposed to attend?" was your excuse, and you weren't exactly lying.

Your dad sent you an exaggerated look tied to a tired sigh before disappearing into his room and coming back out a few minutes later with your phone in hand. He handed it over but kept a grip on it when you grabbed it, "you're a grown person, you know what's right and what's wrong, so please don't do anything stupid."

You simply nodded, unable to meet his eyes as you shuffled back to the room you share with your siblings. It was moments like these did you fear that you'd feel regret for dating Peter. He was and always will be the only genuine decision you've made that made you truly happy, and as awful as it sounds, some time he was the only reason why you'd get out of bed everyday. He might not know it, but Peter was a huge part of your life.

And you prayed whenever you could that you could have him one day, that you could hold him in your arms and get to call him yours, because he was the only thing keeping you together when things seem so out of control that you just want to crawl under a rock and disappear.

Peter was your salvation, he was your sweet getaway and he understood you like no other. Because even though he knew this thing between the two of you is not going to last forever, he's grown to love you regardless, and he wasn't afraid nor shy when he told you.

You were on the phone with him that day, you'd stayed on the phone with him all night and even as you slept, which was a huge risk seeing as your parents could've easily walked in on you in the phone with him, but when you woke up and found him still there, awake and admiring you through the screen, a volcano of butterflies erupted in your stomach and goosebumps rose on your skin.

His wonderful 'I love you' was so random you thought he was joking, but he repeated it again and again, with more force behind it every time, as if he's forcing you to believe him. But you were already in love with him too, and as much as it terrified you and told you to stop and run, you didn't. You said it back with just as much emotions, but you cried as soon as you hung up.

You cannot choice him over your religion, so it was only a matter of time before you two separated, and the idea of the amount of pain you'll have to go through clenched your heart unbearably, and you'd spend hours of the night crying, and your pillow has become your best friend as it heard your cries and witnessed your heartbreak before it actually happened.

The longer you're with him the painful this will be, and you knew that, but you still couldn't bring yourself to stay away from him because you knew, no one will ever come close to him. No one will ever compare.

It wasn't until 3am did you call Peter, the clock had just rolled around 7pm for him and you were certain he was home. Your phone rang, over and over again until it didn't, you didn't dare make a sound until you've heard Peter shuffle on the other end.

"Pete?"

At the sound of your voice, the boy let out an agonizing moan and then there was a grunt, heavy breathing and some more groans.

You pursed your lips, "Peter I swear if you're jerking off right now-"

Peter's camera opened, and it showed him on his bed with a gushing wound across his chest. The gasp that escaped you was unannounced, and you slammed a hand against your mouth to keep quiet. Your whole family was asleep, the last thing you need right now is someone waking up to you chatting with Peter.

"What happened? What the hell happened?" you hiss. He was still in his spider suit and you assume he just got home. Peter winces as he slips off his suit slowly, trying not to disturb his wound any more and not cause himself any kind of extra pain. "Just a bad run in with a gang, nothing I couldn't handle." he groans again and you're left to wonder if he's right.

"how deep is that? It looks deep. But you're still bleeding red which is good. I think you should head to a hospital Peter, please."

He shakes his head, "Too many questions, I'm just gonna stitch myself up."

You stare at him unbelievably, "Your organs could have been impacted, dumbass. You can't stitch yourself up with potential internal bleeding! Please go to the hospital or something, please? You could die!" your urgency for him to react or do something didn't affect him, and it pissed you off.

"Or I'll just call Gwen, she'll know what to do."

You clench your jaw at her mention, "she's not a doctor, Parker."

You never held anything against Gwen. Except for the fact that she's your boyfriend's ex and that she knows he's spider-man and that she gets to see him and touch him and be with him while you can't.

"She knows some medical stuff, it's better than nothing, right?"

You want him safe, so you mutter out a response and let him call her, then he came back to your call and laid back on his bed. The phone was set up against his desk and you had a clear view of his body.

He looks tired, sweat beads across his body and his hair a mess, he keeps grimacing every time he breathes too deeply and his hands had turned to fists holding onto his sheets.

You wished there was a way you could help him, he seemed to be in so much pain and you could cry at how desperate you were to help him. It was moments like these you wished you were there with him, holding his hand and brushing out his hair, doing whatever you could to make his pain better.

But then the door knocked, and Gwen walked in and she gasped, the she got to work. He keeps talking to her, following her instructions, and she keeps cursing him for his recklessness, then she says something that renders you silent.

"What would y/n think of you like this?"

Peter scoffs, "they're right there," he points at the phone across from them and Gwen only now notices, "they told me to go to the hospital but I called you instead. I was gonna stitch myself up."

"thank God you didn't."

Thirty minutes later, and he was all stitched and cleaned up thanks to Gwen, she leaves him to get dressed and make him some soup to help him heal faster and he sits on his desk, his head resting on the wood as he keeps his eyes on you.

It was dark in your room, he can make out the outline of your head hiding beneath the blanket, he can make out the placement of your eyes, nose and lips and it causes a tiresome smile to spread across his lips. "You're beautiful." he states.

You roll your eyes, "You can barely see me."

"I don't need to see you to tell you you're pretty."

Your heart warms, and you can feel yourself heat up under his gaze. He never fails to make you flutter and flustered, just listening to him talk gets you through the worst of moods and it doesn't matter what time it is, you will stay up for days if it meant you can have a few minutes long conversation at the end of it all.

"how was your day?" you ask, prompting him to start talking. Peter likes to rant, and you've always been a good listener, you'd sit back and hear him go on for hours about his classes or this new tech he's trying out for his suit, or the criminals he's come across that day or whatever sassy comebacks he's made. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's something to get your mind off of your day.

He seems to notice your dimmed mood though, because he shakes his head and lays it on his arm. He looks seconds away from passing out. "I always talk about my day first, you should tell me about yours this time, please?"

He sounds so pretty saying please. "I didn't have the best of days to be honest, I worked a lot, didn't eat until midnight I think, mom took my phone a few hours ago but I have a lecture in..." you trail off to look at the time on the corner of your screen, "seven hours so dad gave it back."

Peter furrows his eyebrows, an adorable crease forms between them and a soft frown on his lips. "Seven hours? What time is it?"

"three in the morning." you knew you were about to get yelled at, but you didn't care.

"Three?! y/n, baby, go to sleep. You need it if you want to stay awake through your lecture."

"I want to talk to you though, we haven't talked properly in a while." you whine and he purses his lips just as Gwen walks into his room with a bowl of warm soup. He thanks her and she instructs him to drink his soup before leaving, something about catching up on work or something. You didn't really pay attention.

"I'll make you a deal, alright? You go to sleep right now, and I promise to call you first as soon as I can tomorrow, yeah?"

"but you have four lectures tomorrow." it was a suitable argument and Peter rolls his eyes. "I don't care! I promise I'll call you, just please get some rest? You need it."

There's no getting out of this one, because you knew if you continue whining against his wishes he'll hang up the phone a d you're going to spend the rest of your night going through your instagram explore page, so you groaned and got comfortable on your bed, head still hiding underneath the blankets to keep your ears warm from the cold AC.

"will you sleep on the phone with me?" you're not the one to suggest this usually, and it's the only thing Peter needs to know that you've had a really rough day. Your voice was small, scared you might be rejected, but he only beams up at you. "Happily, just let me finish this soup so Gwen doesn't murder me."

When your life spirals out of control, or when you feel overwhelmed, you know Peter was there. Even if he's not here physically, he's always with you. And no matter what happens, you know you could always falls back on him and he'll hold you up, because that's what you do for each other. You're each other's escape, each other's joy and happy dreams, even if you don't last forever.

These midnight whispers are more than enough for you to feel loved and wanted, and you didn't want to feel that by anyone if it wasn't Peter.

[caticornsrreal]

Fighting Dragons with You

After twelve years, I'm finally telling the internet why I love Taylor Swift🖤 

Hello, internet using world. I’d like to introduce myself to the few people who followed me. Hi! My name is Christa and I am a Taylor Swift fan with every fiber of my being. Full disclosure, this is a short novel so now is your chance to make an exit, but I hope you stay.

Taylor and my ridiculously furry cat, Lyle

(affectionately nicknamed “rent-free”), are the only two beings made of flesh and bone who have been consistent in my life for the last 12 years. With a close second being my son, Gauge, who just turned 10. I won’t get into the details (in this post) as to why that is, but let’s just say there were a lot of ups and downs growing up.

The last 12 years have been an evolution for Taylor,

and subsequently, for me. At (dare I say it) 

38 years old, I’ve found that a lot of things happen in a decade. Like, A LOT. Now, I don’t feel 38. I guess I owe that to humor, singing, dancing, sarcasm, and launching a successful career that didn’t exist 15 years ago —something that has made me always push harder to set new goals and stay humble. But one thing I didn’t do over these last 12 years that I deeply regret was starting a fan page for Taylor. I mean, ESPECIALLY since I’m a professional travel blogger who makes her full time living from digital content!

There’s been a lot of momentum over the last 12 years

—demands which left me with little to no free time. But I can’t blame my absence from the Swiftie family entirely on that. In fact, I’d have to say, I blame much of it on fear.

Fear,

of being misunderstood, fear of judgment or writing something lame. I’ve had over 2,000 articles published online and in print as well as countless social posts, but the thought of Taylor seeing something I wrote and thinking it’s totally weird (or cough, too long for the internet), well let’s just say I’d be less afraid of walking into a burning building.

Fear,

of being called a fake because the financial demands as a single mom left me little money to spend on myself or Taylor merchandise, much less tickets to a show. I’ve always placed my son’s needs before mine.

Fear,

that I was too old to be a Taylor Swift fan. I mean, I was 26 when she hit the music scene and she was what, 16? I’ve been afraid. Afraid I would be rejected by other Swifties who really are the only people who understand this love we have for her  —which is basically like being rejected by your own people. Also, it’s super weird to be following teens/young adults on social, much less engaging with them.

Fear.

Along with my fear, a perfect storm of entrepreneurial demands, single motherhood, failed relationships (one of which was a marriage), and family matters have served as a constant reminder that my dream of ever meeting Taylor takes residence on another planet. An actual trip to Mars seemed more attainable. 

I feel like there is a whole demographic of women, “Swiftie Moms” who echo my story,

having watched Taylor grow into the strong beautiful woman she's become. Women my age who love her from behind the wheel of their SUV, on the way to drop their kids off to school, on the way back from a milk run, in the dark hours of the mornings when they’re dancing in the kitchen with a full on hair bun singing into a coffee spoon. Unnoticed fans who haven’t had the time to dive head first into the Swiftie Universe. But here I am. After all the fear and all the years...

So, why?

This is a hard one to answer. I guess you can say that after many years of challenges, judgment from others, and doing the complete opposite of what logic and reason said I should  —divorce, single motherhood, a second degree in my late twenties... risking it all to start a blog (which by the way in 2013 wasn’t even considered a side job much less a career), I kind of got to a point where I became

fearless.

I had to be. I had this tiny living, breathing human being who was counting on me at the very least, to give him a life a notch above the shit show I had growing up. Not to mention parenting —which is basically wandless wizardry pulled directly from the asses of parents. It demands that your mini human grows up to be a better human than you.

Yeah, unpack that.

Take all your collective shit, figure it out, and then teach your mini to do it better —to BE better than you at love, kindness, respect for others (especially boys respecting girls), integrity, money, and to be fearless. All while giving them the comfort of knowing that you, mom, have it all figured out... even when that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Top that with the pressures of working in the public eye

—which, while on a microscopic level compared to a full-on celebrity such as Taylor, is still very much a juggling act with none of the entourage to lighten the workload. Add to it the demands of working with national brands, and the unwavering ability for other bloggers to tear you down at any opportunity, or even worse, try to get close to you so they can raid your success like a Black Friday sale.

I found myself at the peak of my blogging career

but I was consumed by fear, AGAIN! Fear of shady AF bloggers and publicists, and so much to lose. And fear that now, thousands of people would have an opinion of me formed by jealous bloggers, and they didn’t even know who I really was. 

That’s when letting go of toxic people in my life became essential

—when, no matter who they were, or how I was tied to them, I had to realize that surrounding myself with the ones who lifted me took precedence over the ones who dragged me down. 

After all that..... I learned to give zero f***s about what people thought, or what they said behind my back. 

And I had to start caring about what made my heart happy, what made my family and friends smile, and what inspired me to do better. BE BETTER. Be the example of fearless, with the hope that I was lucky enough to stay that way. But I'm a vulnerable human made of heart and soul and sometimes people can still take the best from me.

I had to be fearless.

In August of 2017 when "Look What You Made Me Do” blessed my ears for the first time, I felt it pierce my skin and course through my veins. And to the very bones of this young 38-year-old Swiftie mom, I was shook AF! I sang, I danced and I drowned out the haters in the blogging world. She had a very clear message,

She had zero f***s to give, Taylor broke the internet.

After watching the seemingly endless myriad of shade thrown at Taylor over the years, my heart erupted with happiness as her flawless first single from Reputation revealed one BADASS BITCH. And with every music video release of her new era, she became a mythical Goddess with bullshit evaporating superpowers. Like, I legit think she’s an actual unicorn. After all, she does ride a caticorn named Olivia.

She got harder, she got smarter in the nick of time

One single post on my Facebook page praising her new era and new single she brought with it attracted a slew of hate speech, white people bashing, claims of Taylor ripping off Beyonce... I couldn’t believe the things I was reading from fellow bloggers. I even had a GLOBAL BRAND threaten my business relationship in their ambassador program because I stood up for Taylor and spoke out about the hate speech which was placed on my own personal Facebook page. But I stood by my words.

Fearless.

Over the following months into early 2018, and to the tune of, “This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things”, I, along with a slew of about 20 other bloggers, ended up taking down said global brand’s publicist who was using his budget and power to demean and sexually harass female bloggers (which would later reveal that blacklisting me was more about not buying into that bullshit rather than my voice on hate speech).

Zero f***s given to those haters.

Mythical Goddess with bullshit evaporating superpowers level officially achieved for Taylor, and even for me. Although I wouldn’t call myself a Goddess. That's all Tay. 🖤

She found love through the noise

And so did I. In November of 2017, I had approached the year anniversary of the greatest love I'd ever known. My last stop. And as the tracks played on, my heart was full. We both found happiness through a seemingly endless sea of anguish.

Taylor is truly doing better than she ever was, and so am I.

Her resilience up against the media and the demands of the industry are perfectly fearless. And her decision to keep her beautifully growing relationship with Joe private is wise. I’ve spent the last year at home, which has been incredible. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what’s most important to me, what has shaped me into the mom, partner and entrepreneur that I am, and it all comes back to Taylor. That’s why it’s time for me to be fearless again and officially join the Swiftie universe.

I’ve spent 12 years fighting dragons with Taylor

and growing a canyon of respect and adoration for her charm, wit, business savvy, musical talent, feminism, compassion, tenacity, love for animals, and of course her lovely, lovely, words. I’ve raised my son from birth with her. There isn't a single day that is spent where Taylor doesn't exist in our lives. For 12 years straight.

That’s a long time to love someone who has no idea you exist.

I play her music videos and YouTube uploads just so I can feel like she’s with us. And so my son knows that she’s one of the finest examples of a human being in his lifetime. I use Taylor’s kindness to teach my son how to be considerate and give back to others while sharing her fearless story with him so she can be a positive role model in his life. Taylor has essentially been part of our family all along. 

My son Gauge has a running joke that Taylor is the only person that can make me cry

(which happens more than I'm willing to admit). And it’s not because I’m weak, or on the verge of a mental breakdown (although I challenge you to try parenting, you might argue that), it’s because I truly love her like a best friend. When I see her happy it makes me happy, when I feel her sadness, it makes me sad. It’s visceral.

I don't believe the human connection is meant to be one-sided.

I feel in my heart, as weird as this may sound, that we will meet Taylor one day, even against all odds. Existing in the same lifetime as Taylor without at least trying to meet her doesn't feel right. I won't look at my son and teach him to let fear and doubt win, or that defying the odds is an impossible task.

Over the years I’ve been a spectator to her outreach to fans. She’s invited them to sessions in her homes, sent them gifts, invited them backstage, surprised them in their homes, made hospital visits, and Lord knows what else she has up her sleeve. And it’s all been done with pure excitement and love for her Swifties. With each outreach she extends, tears of joy are shed for fellow Swifties, and a ray of hope inspires me.

So, I’m starting a personal blog

which tells a very personal story of all the dragons I’ve fought with Taylor over the years. From living in a car at 15 years old to getting invited to LA premieres for Walt Disney and Marvel films. And I'll have no apologies for the truths that will be told (but will change names for privacy). It will be very personal and some of it won’t be pretty. Because life isn’t always pretty.

Taylor is releasing another album this year... we hope,

and she’ll be on yet another tour in 2020. After 12 years I’m finally ready for it. I’ve given my son everything he could possibly want or need. I’ve bought him a beautiful home in Northern Georgia. He’s been able to travel the world and do things most adults haven’t even done. And I owe much of that to Taylor for giving me the strength to take major risks, the courage to face my demons, the balls to cut people out of my life who were toxic and the self-confidence to defy the odds and do things my way.

2019 is our year to show @taylorswift how much we love her.

I’ll let the universe do the rest. Till then, I’ll be fighting dragons with her as I always have and writing my journal for her and anyone else who wants to read the memoirs of an OG Swiftie mom who keeps it real AF, full-on hair bun and all.