#AHHH I LOVE IT!!!

[kitkatwinchester]

WHAT AN OPENING!!

Oh Season 4 is gonna be a RIDE, let's f*cking GO!

Hi!

I know, I know, it's been a bit again, 'cause I got caught up in what I thought was gonna be some awesome writing inspiration, and then my word document remained as blank as ever. XD

THAT SAID!

WE BAAAACK, and Season 4 is coming in STRONG, dude.

First of all, Stydia is literally the best, I love them so much. Every time they're doing things together, the sassy affection they have for each other is just amazing, and the brainpower between the two of them makes anything possible.

That said, no freaking clue how this new hunter lady that keeps popping up (that is apparently Chris's mother, if the "mijo" from several episodes ago really means anything) managed to get Derek all the way to Mexico, and how our pack managed to follow him to Mexico, with $50,000 no less, is an even crazier mystery, but I'm sure it'll all get explained, and I kind of don't care because of how bad*ss that whole thing was.

Like, this show is stellar at pulling you in to a new season right away, and this is certainly no exception.

AND THE WAY THEY INTRODUCED THE NEW PACK LIKE!

"Not smart to come alone."

And then everything in Stiles's face just shifts to utter bad*ss confidence with:

"What makes you think we came alone?"

And then they show MALIA and KIRA with their little colored eyes, AND put them in the NEW INTRO (!!!! I am such a sucker for intros that change every season and I totally blame Supernatural lol), which TOTALLY makes them OFFICIALLY part of the pack and I am SOOO down for that!!

AND THEN!!!

"You brought a wolf into my home?"

And the way Lydia just looks over at Stiles with that bad*ss smirk like "you wanna tell her, or should I?" to give us:

"We brought an Alpha."

AND THEN FREAKING SCOTT IN THE CORNER WITH HIS ALPHA EYES AND I JUST--

Bruh I don't even NEED context. This scene is AWESOME.

As far as plans go, Lydia, I don't know if this is your worst, 'cause this seems like a PRETTY FREAKING BAD*SS PLAN to me!!! <3 <3 <3

I LOVE OUR PACK!!!

WHAT AN OPENING!

WHAT A WAY TO INTRODUCE THE NEW SEASON AND THE NEW PACK MEMBERS AND THE NEW DYNAMICS!!

I AM SO HERE FOR IT!!

Season 4, Episode 1.

Let's gooooooo.

(THAT WAS JUST SO FREAKING PERFECT I CANNOT!! <3 <3 <3 <3)

Update: Having now re-watched that scene five times, I can officially say that this is the best opening to a season (and maybe to an episode, tbh) this show has had so far. I can also officially say that the Season 4 intro is my favorite so far (although the Season 3b intro is a very close second).

Update Part 2: Sorry not sorry, but while Scira is still second only to Stydia, that dance scene is already making me ship Malira. And I know that's not gonna go anywhere, and I'm okay with that, but holy f*ck did Malia and Kira have IMMEDIATE on-screen chemistry omg.

Update Part 3 (next update I'll just make a new post lol): Okay so maybe she has no actual biological relation to Chris, because she called Lydia "mija" and Lydia definitely has no relation to them, so...

[inkskinned]

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

[pebblume]

boss caught me doodling chilchuck at work today and started teasing me about drawing my bOYFRIEND ARGKSJFKD KILL ME. anywho here’s chilshi visiting the cafe i work at

[happyheidi]

[sealsdaily]

SELKIE ART BY RYOKO KUI. NOT A DRILL

[haveihitanerve]

Okay so wait you guys all know that thing that teachers or parents do were they forget that they don't have to speak in like a baby voice all the time and accidentally interact with grown adults in the same manner they do with a child right? Okay so imagine that- but with Batman and the Justice League

Like-

Hal and Barry are arguing and suddenly Batman goes, “boys, thats not very nice is it?” in like a kid voice

Or Oliver is complaining about getting patched up after a fight and Batman chides, “You take the hit you gotta take the stitch baby,” 

Or Clark is mumbling something and Bats goes, “Speak up sweetheart, lets use our speech properly yeah?”

Or Diana accidentally punches a man in the face when hes already down. Batman tsks, “Come on darling, what did we talk about? One hit only.”

Or Oliver is leaving for a mission and Dinah kisses him goodbye and then he walks away, only for Batman to go, “Say bye bye!” 

AGDJFDYSGUKSRHGBDF

Just please imagine their faces for me.

And Batman grimaces lightly afterwards every time and just leaves and the League is flabbergasted

[squarecloud73]

*I worship you Tumblr please don’t remove it

“Glad to have you back.”

舊地重遊

[catharsistine]

The scene in the Barbie trailer when Barbie is skating around with Ken and asks "Why is everyone staring at me?"

THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE AN ADOLESCENT GIRL.

Living in Barbieland (childhood girlhood) but then suddenly you're all grown up in the real world subject to scrutiny and sexualisation (the guy slapping Barbie's ass) and feeling like existing is a crime?

Being forced by adult men into a box (which leads to the not like other girls syndrome) and exploring the 'real world' (being forced to grow up too quickly) while fighting the realisation that maybe the world sucks and being a woman is so difficult while hoping with all your heart that it's not always going to be this way.

Losing touch with the very things that made you happy because they're considered immature and girly? (The group of teens that said they hadn't played with Barbies since they were five.)

Older women telling you that you have to learn the truth about the world and that you can never have your old life back (Kate Mckinnon's Barbie) despite it being the only thing you yearn for, but also older women being a bright spot and support (the old woman on the bench) in the endless slough of life.

And this is just the trailer!!! I'm so excited for this movie I can't breathe, Greta Gerwig the woman that you are 😭

[coveredinsun]

when you’re watching fellowship of the ring with your friends it is 100% vital to point to the screen when the balrog shows up and say “in the books this is when legolas starts screaming”

[shotmrmiller]

i love Simon in all shapes but there's just something so fucking delicious about him getting fuller because of the way you feed him.

he's not military no more, he's hung that beret up.

no more MRE's and whatever else.

Just home cooked food that'll put a meat on his bones.

He ain't gonna starve no more. Simon comes home to a warm meal that'll fill his belly and he better ask for seconds, otherwise you'll be thinking he didn't like what you made him.

You like the extra pounds he's put on! He's gained happy relationship weight, and you love how his tummy presses into you as he gets between your thighs.

His hard body is turning soft and you love every inch of it.

The way to his heart is through his stomach and even if you make cookies that you messed the recipe up on by adding salt instead of sugar, he's eating it.

Like a good husband should.

[grzybjek]

And I hope that all of the fake memories I’ve created with you in my head, will someday become real for both of us.

[izanallu]

I’m back with more Pressure >:)

more specifically, Painter

I finally found him in game on a lockerless run and read his file a few days ago with my friends and

Bro.

i

wanna

grab him

so bad

and get him out of there.

PLEASE

[gojonanami]

gojo standing up like an old man in yuta’s body is my favorite thing ever

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[punnifullife]

Happier days

[moyazaika]

tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.

he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—

“the whole world knows you did it!”

“are you ashamed of yourself?”

“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”

that gets his attention.

“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”

a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”

he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.

“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”

cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.

“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”

he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”

when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.

-

the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—

“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”

“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”

he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.

it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.

and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.

a man’s got needs, y’know?

he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.

he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for how hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.

in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.

he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y’know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!

you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡

he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.

the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.

yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.

there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...

and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!

so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—

so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—

so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?

your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.

he makes sure of that, personally.

-

“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”

the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?

“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.

shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”

“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”

“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.

“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?“

you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—

“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”

extra; what if darling was a prosecutor instead?