#ohmygodwhatthefuck

[currentfications]

Halloween Special | 👻

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Pairing: Bada Lee x ghost!reader(?)*

Warning: Ghost, fluff, mention of death?

Synopsis: Bada found a suspiciously cheap rental

AN: Halloween!! I am HYPED ^_^ Hope y’all like this one, it is a little odd but I just wanted to write some brainless fluff for Halloween >////<

*I know the tag says Bada Lee x reader but I figure it’ll be a little weird to insinuate that the reader is dead… so I’ve settled with vagueness (no y/n or you used in this fic) in hopes that I’m not making things too weird 0.0 sorry if it just made this fic harder to read :(

Bada had an inkling that the deal was too good to be true when she rented the apartment, located dead-smack in the city, at such a low price.

Nevertheless, she was still scared shitless when she saw the ghostly apparition behind her the first morning she moved in.

“Ohmygodwhatthefuck,” her words blurred into one as she flung her toothbrush at the mirror, choking on the foamy toothpaste as she stumbled backwards.

The ghost caught her before she would’ve cracked her melon at the handle, gingerly placing her down to the cold tile.

Hovering over Bada’s body, frozen in fear, the phantom crouched down to meet the dancer at eye level.

You okay there? Her voice echoey, sending chills down Bada’s spine. She snapped her jaw shut, nodding dumbly, eyes still bulging in fear.

“I-” Bada opened her mouth to try to form a sentence, but her thoughts escaped her mind as soon as she hung. What to even say to a poltergeist? She settled on more gawking.

Sorry, just wanted to welcome you to the place. The ghost wasn’t particularly scary looking, not especially with the apologetic look and puppy dog eyes. Guess I’m your new housemate!

Said new housemate took a while for Bada to get used to. She initially thought about moving out, but the non-refundable deposit and rising rent didn’t really provide much of an alternative option. She thought about getting an exorcist too, but figure that will probably be rude considering that she was there first, after all.

After the initial fright though, Bada quickly realised the perk of having such housemate around. Especially during summer, haunting at the rental really keeps the place cool and the electricity bill low. That one time when she locked herself out, ghostly housemate quickly came to her rescue.

The phantom really lived up to her name, as Bada haven’t really seen her since the initial encounter - except occasionally out the corner of her eyes.

An air of unease that hung over the air every time Bada gets home seemed to indicate that the other tenant have only recently left the room to prevent giving her a fright.

“Hey,” Bada called out timidly, a few months into the tenancy. “Are you there?” She had begun to wonder if this was all a figment of her imagination. It wasn’t.

The linen closet creaked open and a girl peeked out from behind the door. Hi?

Bada took a deep breath to compose herself before waving the poltergeist over with a small smile (technically, with her peaceful nature, Bada wasn’t sure if she can even be classified as one - more along the line of Casper the ghost if anything). After coexisting for these few months, Bada is starting to feel a little rude for not have gotten to know her housemate all these time.

The friendly spirit kept her distance even after the introduction - she can occasionally be seen sitting by the window sill right around twilight or found stargazing on the balcony - but she almost excuse herself (vanish) whenever Bada enters the room, reluctant to make her feel uneasy.

So when Bada came home to blaring music one night, she decided to creep up to the source of noise. She found the door to her spare room (she mostly uses it as a dance room) slightly agape and peeked a glance into it.

She found her housemate vibing to some early 2010’s pop music, tapping her feet (?) as she swayed to the tune. Even though it’s not like ghost can even get sweaty, she has pulled her hair up into a messy bun, eyes shut as she joyfully danced her heart out.

Bada couldn’t hold back a chuckle escaping her lips, her hands flying to her mouth as soon as it does. The ghost snapped around, flustered, let out a shriek that slammed the door shut and a few books off the bookshelf. A crackling static sound was heard before the music was stopped.

“I’m so sorry!” Bada shouted through the door apologetically, realising that she had spooked the spook. “I was just curious about what you’ve been doing.”

More silence followed as the tall girl leaned on the door frame, waiting for a response.

No, I suppose it’s fair. A scare for a scare - we’re even now.

The door opened, and Bada found the poltergeist (now officially one after the door slamming and object throwing) curled up on the floor, face buried in her hands.

“Awwh don’t be embarrassed, you’re not too bad,” the dancer comforted, squatting down to the spirit. She remained curled up and did not budge once. “Your basics is actually pretty solid, want me to teach you?”

That made the sulking spirit look up, eyes glistening. Really?

Bada couldn’t help but notice that the girl is really cute - her gleaming and excited doe eyes made her forgot that she’s a ghost for a moment, reaching out to fix her fringe back into place. Her eerily icy skin snapped that reminder back into the dancer.

“Yeah-” scolding herself for having a split second of immoral thoughts on the undead, Bada quickly stood up and turned to the speaker. “I do teach dance for a living after all, and you’ve been an exceptional housemate.”

The ghost took her hand, a smile growing on her face. Thank you. I guess you can teach dead dogs new tricks after all. The warm twinkle in her eyes was payment enough for Bada’s dance masterclass.

Over the next few weeks, the girls have gotten closer over the dancing classes. Sightings are now more often around the house.

Bada has noticed that her food is always at the right temperature, her morning coffee never scorching her anymore. Her laundry is never rained on, even when she run late from work. One time she rushed home, remembering that she’d left the hair straightener on, only to find the electricity turned off and the iron back in her drawer.

“Thanks,” the overworked choreographer cooed in relief, “I was worried I’d burn the house down.”

Wouldn’t want to be cremated twice. Her dark humour gave Bada a good laugh as she ran back out the door to attend her workshops.

On her way home from work, the dancer stopped by a local florist to pick up a simple white rose bouquet, a token of thank-you for her housemate.

From that point onwards things escalated. Bada would bring home books to replenish the ghost’s bookshelves, making sure she have sufficient reading materials to lounge by the windowsill. The poltergeist is in charge of clearing out trash when the choreographer is on her away trips. Soon little tidbits and souvenirs joined the books and bouquets collection, and Bada would return home to cooked meals and warmed baths (or iced baths, if she’s had a particularly strenuous workout on her schedule).

Then the ghost stopped hiding, and Bada would wake up to cooked breakfast and a lounging phantom, rocking on the chair she’d bought on a whim (Bada thought it would be funny to have a cliched rocking chair in a haunted house, to which the spirit agreed - she even asked for some yarn and knitting needles to occupy her time, Bada received plenty of beanies and sweaters in return).

Soon it became a norm for the duo to comfortably coexist in the cozy haunted space for two.

“I’m gonna run late tonight,” Bada shouted, to nowhere in particular, knowing that she’ll hear her anyways. An echo from the kitchen confirmed that the message was received.

Bada later found a birthday cupcake in her lunchbox. Smiling, she gently peeled back the wrapper of the red velvet cake, taking a bite into the scrumptious dessert.

“Ooo who’s that from?” Tatter teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at their team leader. “How come we haven’t heard anything about anyone packing your lunchbox?”

“She’s not just anyone-” Bada blurted out, stopping herself in the track when she realised her Freudian slip, “-just my housemate is all.”

Sharing a knowing look, Tatter and Lusher decided let their team leader simmer in her own thoughts.

The alcohol involved in the birthday party later on, however, probably does not help with thought formation.

Team BEBE had to hoist their very intoxicated birthday girl home that night. Sowoen especially regretted in feeding the much taller dancer too much alcohol.

While the group was fumbling to find the keys off Bada, the front door creaked open.

“Oh god Bada this is so unsafe, how’d you haven’t gotten robbed is beyond me,” Tatter half scolded as they dropped her onto the couch. “And why is your lights still on? How much do you pay in electricity bills a month?” Her rambling questions was cut short by Lusher jabbing her on the side.

“You must be-”

Housemate. Thanks for bringing her back safely.

The spirit managed to present herself passingly as a regular human, smiling warmly and offering tea to the late visitors. Even though they couldn’t really put a finger on what was making them feel so strongly unsettled, the group trusted their gut feelings and politely declined the offer. Tatter and Lusher in particular assumed that it was simply a case of jealous and/or possessive girlfriend.

Once the group was sent off, the phantom floated back to a flushed red Bada, offering some water.

“C-can you get me some iced towel?” The dancer asked meekly. The ghost simply pressed her icy palm onto her cheeks, cooling her down instantaneously. “Ahh that’s much better than a towel, no dripping water.”

I can make dripping ceiling happen if that’s what you want.

Bada chuckled, leaning onto her personal ice pack. “Please don’t do that, I think we have a routine inspection next week.”

You mean you have a routine inspection next week, the spirit giggled, it’s not like they can evict me.

“And you’re gonna let someone else move into our home?” The dancer slurred, darting her gaze up to the phantom.

Maybe she’s drunk, but she swear she saw a rosy tint forming on the ghost’s cheeks. You mean your house.

“I mean our-” Bada sat up, pulling her housemate closer, “our home.”

You’re drunk. An invincible force pulled the dancer back into the couch, the spirit’s hands still placed on her cheeks. Get some rest.

Bada wanted to argue but a haunting siren song lulled her into a slumber. It was a soothing melody that sounded foreign but yet felt so natural to her. She managed to wrap her arms around the cold body to cool off her intoxication before sleep claimed her.

She woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast and fresh coffee. Groaning, she opened her eyes to a glass of water and two aspirins floating in front of her.

Hung over?

Bada hummed and nodded at the question, wincing at the splitting headache as she does.

I’m lucky to be somber and sober.

Laughing softly as to not cause another jolt of pain, the dancer sat up, regretting the heavy drinking from the night before. “Hey,” she motioned with her eyes close. Feeling the palpable change in atmospheric pressure next to her, a smile curled her lips upwards. “Now that I, too, am sober-” she paused to reach around, continuing when she found her personal poltergeist, pulling her forward, “- I meant what I said last night. I’m lucky to have you.”

Pressing a soft kiss on the girl in her arms, she let the soft words fall from her lips. “Our home.”

[floopthecooper]

Part Two (2) of our new soap opera is here!

now with more ohmygodwhattheFUCK than ever before!

@coolcoolglasses are absolutely not cackling in the corner as we write these, where did you get such a ridiculous idea

...okay maybe we are.

[cupcakesmoothie]

Fontaine Act 4 liveblog/analysis - SPOILERS AHEAD

I'm not even done yet but oh my god I need to talk about this.

Ok first off, Act 3 SUCKED, but Act 4. Wow. Wow. Oh my god. Ohmygodwhatthefuck. Confirmation of Neuvillette being the Hydro Dragon, which was obvious. HINTING at Furina not being an Archon, I am shocked they are taking this route and if they actually confirm it, I NEEEEEEEEEEEED to know who the actual Archon is BECAUSE IT AIN'T NEUVILETTE. (Neuvillette and Furina father and daughter vibes btw. Insane.)

They put 3 of the hottest people in a room together. I can already SEE the ships.

But no, what I wanna talk about, why I made this post.

CHILDE.

He's BARELY in this. We get to see him in the Traveler's dreams (Which FEEDS my Chilumi soul btw), but other than that we HAVE NOT SEEN HIM YET.

BUT THEY KEEP MENTIONING HIM.

Arlecchino is using him as an excuse, and people know this. He's sort of a side mission right now. Not a priority. In fact, the person who cares the most about his whereabouts right now might be the Traveler.

I am. SO SCARED. For his life right now. I got SPOILED (just a little) too because I wanted to see if there were any cutscenes in this quest (I record the Chinese dubs because I feel like people rarely do)

I KNOW he is in this. He's not going to hide forever. I'm just so worried I'd regret he'd ever shown up

[kaylinity69]

Sis, you were already cute, but that combined with your mad skillz is making me turbo-lesbian like ohmygodwhatthefuck? O_O;

:D practice makes perfect! I cam have mad skillz too babe ♡

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

I just finished Steven Universe and ohmygodwhatthefuck

I was like “aw a cute little slice of life show about a half alien boy with superpowers goin on adventures with his aunts”

and then it was like “oh actually this tiny human child inherited an intergalactic civil war from his mom, who actually faked her death and took on a new name and face (5750 years ago!!!!) and never told anyone except Pearl. and this little 14 year old is probably the last hope that anyone has of maybe, possibly, if we’re luckier than anyone has ever been, to end the civil war and save his ENTIRE SPECIES AND PLANET FROM EXTINCTION”

this poor baby T.T

[vmpfrnk]

ohmygodwhatthefuck

[gurugirl]

Oh

My

God

OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCK?

Holy shit - I'm done. Wow. He's not real.

[ixalit]

So... I reached 400 followers today! (Ohmygodwhatthefuckwhy)

I thought I’d have more time to write something to celebrate and thank you all, but instead have this excerpt from a multi chapter story I’m working on 🥰 it’s a shrunkyclunks AU very loosely based on the movie You’ve Got Mail. The idea for the plot is from @jro616, and I’m not sure when it’ll be done, but it’s one of the things I’m working on!

(all unbeta’d, rough draft, yadda yadda. Just wanted to post something for the milestone)

***

“Try to keep it steady, Barnes. One smooth movement.”

“That’s what I’m—fuck—tryin’ to do,” Bucky grounds out, harsher than needed, but really, he’s surprised it took this long. He’s been at it for twenty minutes, pushing and pulling and lifting, all while trying to keep his balance. His shoulder aches—his whole body aches—and he just wants to finish this last set so he can go home and rest.

Veronica folds her arms and sighs heavily, leaning against the wall. “I know it’s hard, but you’re never gonna get stronger if we don’t keep increasing the difficulty.”

“I know, I know.”

“Physical therapy isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to make things easier,” Veronica says, and Bucky rolls his eyes. She’s full of one-liners, and that particular one features frequently.

He gathers his strength, inhales deeply, and tries his best to smooth out the movement. Tightly grasping the band and keeping his shoulders pulled back, he breathes out and slowly straightens his elbows.

When his fists are at his hips and his muscles are screaming against the light resistance, he looks up and meets Veronica’s gaze in the mirror. “Better?”

She lifts an eyebrow, says “Huh. Much,” and if Bucky didn’t know better, he’d say she sounds impressed. “Okay, you’re done with exercises. I won’t torture you today—”

“Bit late for that, Doc.”

“Punk,” she smiles, “Don’t get too excited, though. You still have to stretch.”

Bucky gives a dismissive wave of his hand, “Stretching’s a cakewalk compared to those hellish exercises.” He carefully lays down on the mat and starts going through his chest sequence.

In the seven months since his discharge (honorable, thank you very much) and surgery, he’s been coming here twice every week, trying to learn how to work a shiny new metal arm. Even though it’s the latest model, it’s been harder than he anticipated. Whenever the full arm is attached, the weight pulls at the seams where metal meets skin, and the anchors deep in his lat and trap ache angrily with every movement. Even the muscles that aren’t directly connected get knotted and sore, his back and right side cramping whenever he needs to stand for long stretches.

Sometimes Bucky wishes he’d just chosen to be an amputee. He wouldn’t be able to open jars, but at least he would be free of the constant stress on his body.

Through it all, Veronica’s been a godsend. She’s probably the only person he actually says more than two words to in person on a regular basis and isn’t that just depressing? He’s twenty-eight years old. He should be… doing whatever twenty-eight year olds normally do. Going out. Having fun. Not adhering to the same minute-by-minute routine every single day just to avoid flashbacks to a war he’d never wanted to fight.

“Got any plans this weekend?” Veronica asks from her perch on a yoga ball.

“Oh, y’know, errands. And work. Those websites aren’t gonna maintain themselves.” Bucky pulls his arm across his chest, squeezing his eyes against the pulling in his shoulder blade. “What about you? Got your eye on any hot new clubs?”

Veronica snorts inelegantly as she tears open a protein bar, “You know I only go to those to meet chicks. But, now that you mention it… You’ve seen those posters, right?”

“The ones for the Supers? Uh, yeah, ‘course I have. Pretty hard to miss ‘em.” Honestly, he’d be happy to never see one of those goddamn posters again. They’re everywhere these days, covering every lamp post, bus stop, and building like ivy, overlapping each other and all shouting about the same thing.

“Well,” she says, taking a bite, “my friend works for them and told me they’re going to do something in the park this weekend. I think it’s some sort of fundraiser. Food, merch signing… could be fun.”

He grimaces. Sure, that might sound fun to her, but all Bucky hears is crowds, loud noises, and press; three things he actively avoids. “Yeah. No thanks. Maybe next time.”

“Suit yourself,” Veronica shrugs, “But the invite’s always open if you change your mind.” She stands up and sticks a hand down to Bucky. “Okay, next client’s here. Get your butt outta here before I rope you into her session.”

Bucky grasps her hand with his flesh one, and she pulls him up. “Thanks, Doc. See you next week.”

[gyubby99]

I was like "dead mermaids? Dee's sister must be ba-- OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCK"

The Prophecy of Immortal Fire: 3

@gyubby99

Part 1:

Ella walked through the halls, Loreley right next to her as Isaac and Emily struggled to keep up.

"Mama what's going on?" Isaac asked as he held on tight to his little sisters hand.

"Isaac, baby, I want you to go find auntie eve," Ella stated as she stopped to look at the five year old.

"But mama, I can help!" He exclaimed with a smile.

"Yes. You can help by going to Eve's room and telling her that something bad has happened, okay?" Ella asked gently.

Isaac sighed and nodded before taking hold of his sister's arm once again and running to Eve's room.

"Okay, Loreley what do you think is happening?" Ella asked as she and loreley began to walk again to the throne room.

"I'm not sure. People have been popping up everywhere, people who are already dead, who have gotten their dues. I've tried contacting my parents. It's summer so my mother should be up here but I haven't been able to find her or my father," loreley explained as she tugged on her hair. Her very normal hair. "And my powers are gone. Usually when that happens it means I've been cursed, or my parents died. But if my father is dead.. then there's no one controlling the underworld...... and that's a humongous issue," Loreley stated.

"Okay..... gather everyone.... I know Alruna is up in Norway, but I need you to send for her-"

"Shes already here... they all are.... even dead sirens and mermaids started popping up. Deena is..... she's been really quiet..... something unusual for her," Loreley explained.

Ella walked into the throne room, all her friends and associates waiting for her.

"Ella!" Mia exclaimed as she walked toward her sister, only to be caught off guard by her wife's hair. "Loreley what- what happened?" She asked.

"I.. dont know," Loreley replied as she ran her fingers across the raven colored locks.

"Okay does anyone have any information for me?" Ella asked.

"Letters have been sent from different kingdoms experiencing the same thing," Alruna spoke. "One of my old friends.... he doesn't know what's going on and right now everyone is just really scared," Alruna stated.

"Are these people appearing as... undead?" Ella asked.

"No," Deena spoke before standing up. "They appear as they did when living... as if they've been given a second chance at life...." Deena explained.

"Have they posed any threats?" Mia asked.

"Only if there were threats in life. They remember everything up until the moment they died," Deena muttered.

"How do you know?" Elias asked from the throne next to Ella's.

"...... I had a sister who died long ago..... and shes come back," Deena explained. "As is the man who destroyed her life," she finished as her eyes got darker, seemingly in rage.

"But that means-"

"That my husband is back," a voice came from the entrance to the room. "As is my son,"

"Queen Carolyn?" Ella asked as she looked at the blonde saddened woman in suprise.

"Apparently," Carolyn stated before curtseying. "I never thought I'd see the day where my best friend's daughter ruled..... and such a wonderful ruler she's turned out to be," Carolyn stated with a small smile.

"If you're back then..." Elias trailed off.

"Alistar...." ella whispered.

"My son is being held captive," Carolyn stated.

"By his guilt?" Loreley asked, sarcastically.

"No.... by King John," Carolyn replied.

[softboywriting]

In Sickness And In Health | Shawn Mendes

Summary: New relationships are great, it’s all romance and grand gestures of love and affection. But eventually that honeymoon phase of a relationship ends and you enter a deeper level of love for a person in ways you least expect. Including when they get sick on you and you don't even freak out. [Non au] [getting sick?]

Word Count: 1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

You would do anything for Shawn. Three years, three solid years with maybe no more than an accumulated four months of time apart really takes a relationship both professionally and personally, to another level. After a year into working for Shawn's crew as a stage hand and assistant, the two of you started dating. It was funny how it happened. The two of you had gone out without the rest of the team several times before someone actually had to point out that it looked like you were going on dates. It was then the two of you sat down and had a real discussion about what you were to each other. That discussion lead to deciding to pursue things beyond just being friends and entering a relationship that was just like a dream.

Three years and you thought you had seen it all with Shawn. The goofiness, the anxiety, the love, the accolades and the stress. You've seen him at his best, absolutely glowing, and you've seen him at his worst, wanting to call it quits in every aspect of his life. The two of you have been together so long now you are entering the end of the ‘honeymoon phase’ and becoming accustomed to each other in ways you never thought you would be comfortable sharing with someone. It's now, after the following events, that you know you truly love him.

It's a Friday night and Shawn has just gotten off stage for an outfit change. You're in the alcove under the stage where he will strip off his vest and sleeveless button up and change into his black tank top. You've done this a hundred times at least. It should go off without a hitch. It should.

"Pass me the towel." Shawn says as he tosses his soaked shirt aside.

You grab the towel off a nearby drum case and as you turn around, he just...throws up. All down your shirt. You freeze, disgusted and alarmed. It's horrible. The worst possible thing you could imagine. "Ohmygodwhatthefuck?!"

"I'm so sorry." Shawn blurts, stumbling back a bit. "Ohmygod I'm so so sorry."

"I-I..." You're just stunned silent as disgusting sick runs down the front of you. You can't move, can't speak, can't even process what the hell just happened.  

"Honey, hold on," Shawn turns and yells for one of the crew to come help.

"You have to go back out there." You mutter, looking at him and he looks at you like you're crazy. The yuck on your shirt didn’t matter. The show mattered, Shawn mattered. "Are you okay? Are you okay to go on stage?"

"I'm fine. Let me just-"

"Go, rinse your mouth and go."

"I can't just go back and leave you like this! I just puked on you!"

You close your eyes and try not to breathe too deep. "Shawn. Leave me. I can take care of it. The band can only stall for so long."

Nick, one of the stage crew shows up and looks at the two of you, really taking in the scene before him. "Holy shit. What the f-"

"Shawn go!"

Shawn grabs a bottle of water and walks back out on stage. You can hear him briefly apologizing and chalking it up to technical difficulties. Smooth.

"Nick, can you please get me a shirt from the merch tables and a pair of sweatpants." You force yourself to remain calm, to not think too hard about the substance on your shirt.

"Y-yeah." Nick turns and jogs off.

Fifteen minutes later and you are cleaned up, your clothes are in a trashcan backstage and the alcove has been wiped up with disinfectant wipes. Honestly you feel like you should be more disgusted by the whole situation but after the initial shock of it happening, you are more concerned about Shawn. Why had he puked? Why didn't he say he felt bad? Why was he pushing himself so hard if he knew he felt ill?

The second Shawn runs off stage, pulling out his in-ears and taking off the power box from his belt, you're there. He looks around for only a second before he sees you heading toward him in the dark backstage makeshift hallway.

"I'm so so sorry." He grabs your shoulders. "I have no idea what happened. One second I was fine and the next I just lost it and...oh God I'm so sorry."

"Shawn, it's fine." You shake your head. "Shit happens, I'm washable. The real question is are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I feel fine. I think I was overheated. The arena is really hot tonight and I don't think I was drinking enough." He lifts your shirt away from your chest a bit as he realizes it's not the one you were wearing earlier. "You had to change everything?"

"Yeah." You look down at the rose tee shirt and the tour date sweatpants. "I tossed my other clothes." You laugh softly. "I can't say I've ever experienced something like that and I had college friends who drank excessively at parties."

Shawn groans. "I feel so horrible."

You lay your hand on his cheek and he's clammy from sweating. "Don't. I'm sure you'll get sick on me again at some point, it's part of life. We've been together for three years, I'm surprised you haven't been sick like this before now."

"I'm not sick though."

"You know what I mean."

"You're really not mad at me?"

"No." You chuckle. "I'm not mad and I don't hate you, and I don't love you any less."

He looks visibly relieved. "You're sure? Because I understand if you don't wanna like keep dating me because-"

"Because you puked on me?" You laugh and he puts his hands on his hips. "Shawn, we've been through a lot worse than just some heat exhaustion. You've had to clean up far worse then some puke on my behalf. Remember the incident a few months ago? In the tour bus?"

"Yeah but that was just blood from your nose."

"And this was just the contents of your stomach. I'm in it with you for the long run bud. I'd take a bullet for you. Don't you know that?"

He gathers you in his arms and kisses the top of your head. He's sweaty and gross but you don't care, and you wrap your arms around his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too, Shawn." You squeeze him tighter. "I love you too."

End

--------

Thank you so much for reading! Please Reblog and share :) -A

*****Disclaimer: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[amazinglylesbian-blog]

me: *finds old tumblr*

me: jesus christ what the fuck

[ask-coolkid-dave-strider-blog]

[Throws a dildo at save]

[Dave fucking shrieks once he realised what got thrown at him. He kicks it as far as possible.]

OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCK-

[Troll: 19/20]

[figgyblossom]

OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCK??????????????????????

I'm watching Gone Girl for the first time (never read the book). I'm about 50 minutes from the end and GODDAM???? This movie is wild af??? Like I had a general idea of what it was abt, but honestly never knew or payed attention to much. Like WOW. I am, as they say, on the edge of my seat

[stargate365]

[SG-1] 4.02: The Other Side

Poor Jack, he looks so tired and ready to go home. And he only just got in

The Fifth? In 90 mins? Jfc?

“I’m here two hours early, when did you get here?” “I never left.”

Oh dear... People have been jumping in?

Poor Sam. Why does she look guilty? It’s not her fault the crazy aliens died.

Again?? These lot are persistant. Like, really persistant!

This guy is skirting around a ton of questions here.

That was the most suspivious “please semd help” I have ever seen.

Daniel, please don’t fall for this bullshit.

Hmm... is this guy being weird bc Teal’c is Jaffa, or bc he’s black? 

“Is he?” *hisses* Jfc, that sounded so... off. 

Is it just me, or do these guys in stasis and the facility look... well.. the same. Please tell me these guys aren’t fucking nazis.

Mind controlled drones? Kinda cool, but the longterm consequences is ridiculous.

Jack knows what Heavy Water is? Yay Jack!

Daniel seems to be poking at a sore point - but the thing is Daniel has a point.

“Their whole world is in flames, and we’re offering them Gasoline. How is that helping?” “We are, in fact, offering Water.”

Okay, what is Jack’s problem??

Poor Danny, everybody seems to be against him rn.

Dammit Sam, listen to what Daniel is saying. There’s always two sides!!

Jesus, this guy is such a dickhead. I do not like Alar one bit!!

And now Jack is starting to understand these people aren’t all rainbows and butterflies.

Yes Jack, Daniel has a Question™

Oh no you didn’t. You did not jyst call Teal’c “the Jaffa”

What the fuck do you mean “not like us”??

“Go ask questions. Lots of questions.”

Holy shit. Jack just apoligized.

“He is concealing something.” “What?” “I am unsure. He is concealing it.”

Did she just say the words “genetic puritiy”??

#screamingintothevoid #ohmygodwhatthefuck?

Ugh. I hate being right. These guys are totally Space Nazi’s. I hate Nazi’s. (So does Wasif! Rember SGO!)

Jfc, even the Goau’ld just want to kill and enslave you all. It’s nothing personal.

Daniel figured it out. And told Jack. Time to change plans.

Sam figured it out too. Smart girl.

*hisses* This episode does a good job at turning my stomach.

Whoo! Go team! Holy shit, Danny’s feeling grumpy today, he just pulled a gun on somebody.

“Close the Iris.”

That sublte thwp after they close the iris is strangely satisfying.

[queensidecheckmate]

13 fantastically evil ways to make your evil self feel better after a particularly grueling day of ohmygodwhatthefuck

13. Go on an evil walk.

12. Throw a rock...at anything. Preferably throwing it at something not alive would be best.

11. Laugh evilly at passers by. Trust me on this one. It makes you feel great.

10. Take an evil nap. Keep those evil juices flowing fresh yo

9. Make fun of babies. Not that babies have any concept whatsoever about what you're doing but it's pretty evil. Just don't get too personal. They're just children for Pete's sake!

8. Have an evil cocktail. Full of evil, chalk full of evil flavor.

7. Give someone wrong directions.

6. Take over a small world country. That always boosts the ego.

5. Be good to your mother. (Serving suggestion)

4. Listen to some very evil music to bring yourself back to that evil place you belong.

3. Know your limitations but never own them.

2. Always know other's weaknesses

1. Be nice, noone likes a bloody hoe bag douche machine.

[provokingdrama]

Finally got started on the painting. On the left is my preliminary sketch. #art #workinprogress #wip #sketch #art #artwork #pencildrawing #preliminarysketch #penandink #painting #fineart #outsiderart #surrealism #darkart #darksurrealism #darkartists #portraits #faces #creepy #ohmygodwhatthefuck #acrylicart #painting #instaart #instartist #artistoninstagram #artistsontumblr #creepyart #weird #horrorart #macabreart #artistontwitter https://www.instagram.com/p/B_Ax_hTpPcZ/?igshid=f7kv1a1nzrm5