#Why are you making people GO TO THE THEATER

[fluentmoviequoter]

Rich for a Night

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!detective!reader

Summary: To catch a thief targeting wealthy couples, you go undercover with your husband Deacon.

Warnings: fluff, Deacon & r are held at gunpoint, a Bugatti gets wrecked :(

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (1x19 "Source")

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you lament. “The robberies always occur after big events, dinners, charity galas, but there’s no other connection.”

“Catering company?” your desk neighbor suggests.

“Different for every event. No one worker has been at every event. Planners have alibis, there’s no similarity in looks or where victims live, even banks. The only lead we have is wealthy couples getting robbed, sometimes at gunpoint, after an event.”

You drop your head into your hands as you reconsider the entire case. You’ve looked through every guest list, and everyone has alibied out, even though only a few couples overlapped and attended every event. They got robbed, too, as it turns out. The first two robberies had a connection: they both banked at the same place, but after that, the connection disappeared.

“It has to be someone near the events,” you murmur. “Maybe it’s someone who has access to Los Angeles socialite calendars and is just hanging around the events and picking people at random.”

Your phone rings, and you sigh before you answer, “Detective Kay.”

“Detective, there’s been a murder,” the caller says.

“Let me get you someone in homicide.”

“No, this is related to your burglary case. Or at least that’s what the homicide detective thinks. It looks like a robbery gone wrong.”

“What’s the address?” you ask as you pick up your cell phone and keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

On the drive into the hills, you add this new twist to your thoughts on the case. You agree that this location, the schedule, and everything about the setting of the crime match your investigation. The murder is either a progression or a mistake. Maybe the burglar was interrupted, or the victim tried to stop him. Before you can create too many theories, you arrive at the scene and flash your badge to enter the house.

“What have we got?” you ask the homicide detective surveying the scene.

“Forensics is going over everything now, but it doesn’t look like anything was taken. Single gunshot to the chest was our cause of death.”

“Nothing was taken?” you repeat. “Then why do you think this is related to the thefts?”

“Because of that,” he answers, squatting as he points under the makeup vanity. “A bag filled with jewelry pushed just out of reach. Almost like a dying woman was trying to protect herself and her home.”

“What else did you find?”

“Not much. Seems like this happened pretty quickly. Alarm was disabled at eleven-oh-five p.m.”

“After the murder mystery theater on the yacht,” you add. “Date night gold for the rich.”

“Hence, why we think this is your case, not ours. They’ll try to recover the bullet during the autopsy and run ballistics.”

“Until then, it’s mine to decipher. Thanks, detective.”

“Could I make one suggestion?” he inquires as he removes his gloves. You nod, and he says, “This seems like the perfect opportunity for a UC. Even if you don’t come face-to-face with the burglar, you get to know a bit more about the victims.”

“Even more if you go undercover yourself,” your partner adds as she walks into the house. “Progression or accident?” she asks, pointing to the victim.

“I can’t go undercover,” you argue.

“Why not? You get to play dress up. Plus, you’ve got a tactically trained and incredibly attractive husband you could take with you. No one would question your right to be there with Deac’s old money vibe and your, well, everything.”

You look around the scene, a luxury environment as an outward acknowledgement of all the victim worked for, or as it may be, didn’t work for, and decide it truly is your best option.

“I need a Rolex.”

Browsing the rows of the evidence locker with a small box in your hand, you wonder why so many rich people get arrested. So far, you’ve gathered a Rolex Daytona worth at least $100,000 and three pairs of sunglasses from Cartier, Ray Ban, and Dolce and Gabbana.

“Perfect,” you whisper as you find an envelope with a Tiffany ring and a pure obsidian band.

With these accessories and the dresses your contact who works with the UC division is procuring for you, you do not doubt that you will fit in. You still need a car, but you know just the people to ask about that.

“I need to check these out, Ally,” you request as you slide the evidence onto a desk. “For case 9212024.”

“No problem,” she answers as she begins logging case numbers and photos into her computer. “Who’s the ring for?”

“My husband.”

“I pity the criminals you’re after.”

“At least they’ll get a nice view while we put the cuffs on.”

“What are you doing here?” Rocker asks as you enter SWAT HQ.

“Lovely to see you too, Donovan,” you reply with a smile. “Do you greet your wife like that?”

Rocker shrugs and hugs you quickly before he directs you to where 20 Squad is reviewing warrants.

“Sergeant Kay,” you call as you enter.

“Oh, hi!” Street greets.

“This is a surprise,” Deacon says as he moves around Street to hug you.

“I have something for you,” you begin. You pull the obsidian ring from your pocket and lift the Cartier aviators from your side. “A proposal.”

“Is this a married couple thing or am I just confused?” Street whispers.

“You don’t want me to answer that, playboy,” Luca replies, slapping his back.

“Why?” Deacon questions, smiling even as he narrows his eyes at you.

“It’s just a date,” you promise.

“To do what?”

“I’m still working the string of burglaries targeting rich couples. We’ve got tiny leads that add to enough of a clue that I want to go undercover at the next big event to try to find something. I have to work faster because a woman was killed during a robbery last night.”

“Why not take someone more familiar with the case?”

“Do it, Deac,” Street whispers. “Just for the watch.”

“What watch?” Deacon asks.

You lift your hand to show the Rolex Daytona hanging loosely around your wrist. “There’s a look to people like this. I’ve got everything except a date right now, and you’re the best option for more reasons than I can list, Deac. If you can’t, I get it.”

“No, I want to,” he states, taking the sunglasses from your hand and sliding them onto his face. “Let’s catch a burglar.”

“Oh, that’s just not fair,” Street complains.

“Street,” you call. “I need something from you and Luca too.”

“Alright,” you announce after you secure your earrings. “We just moved here from New York, have our accounts set up, moved into a newly renovated house in the hills and are scoping out the local charities because we’re budding philanthropists.”

“And luring a thief,” Deacon adds as he gently tugs the strap of your dress to straighten your neckline.

“Mostly that.”

“I’m following your lead tonight, detective.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Your ride is here,” Street says on the other side of your door. “And you’re welcome, but don’t get used to it. Luca and I may be brilliant, but we’re not get a free Bugatti loaner every week brilliant.”

“I never said it had to be a Bugatti,” you whisper to Deacon.

“I can hear you, ya know,” Street calls. “You are wearing a wire. So, keep it PG, Deac.”

Deacon smiles as he leans toward the tiny microphone hidden in the seam of your dress strap and answers, “10-4, good buddy.”

Street groans, and you gently push Deacon’s shoulders to straighten his tie. He looks good, though you expected no less.

“Let’s be rich for a night.”

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Napier,” the chauffeur greets as he opens your door. “Beautiful car. It's number 17,” he adds as he hands Deacon the card to pick up the car after the event. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” Deacon answers, nodding as he shakes the man’s hand and passes a $50.

You wait on the curb as Deacon rounds the back of the Bugatti and wraps his arm around your waist.

“If he scratches that car, Street will kill me,” you say through your smile.

“Good thing it’s not Street’s car,” Deacon replies. “Let’s go, Mrs. Napier.”

You smile while you loop your arm around Deacon’s bicep and follow him into the concert hall. Innumerable couples are finding their seats and milling around the open area of the hall as they discuss charities, recent events, and bank account balances. With Deacon, you have no concern about looking out of place, and your confidence is assured when three different women look over at him. One of which looks away from her husband to do so.

“Good evening,” a woman greets, smiling as she approaches you. “My name is Andrea Campbell and I’m hosting this evening’s event. Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I don’t recall meeting you.”

“No, ma’am, you haven’t,” Deacon says, carefully extracting his arm from your hold as he offers to shake her hand. “I’m Dan Napier and this is my wife. We just moved here from upstate New York and wanted to see the charities of Los Angeles.”

“Oh, how wonderful! Mrs. Napier, I am an advocate for women in philanthropy, so if you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact me. I truly hope you enjoy this evening’s show and the presentation.”

“Thank you,” you offer before Andrea is called away. Once she’s out of earshot, you stifle a laugh and whisper, “I’m surprised she even saw me.”

“Mrs. Napier, is it?” a man asks, allowing as he pauses directly at your side, out of Deacon’s reach. “My associate Andrea mentioned that you were here. I believe you recently opened an account at my branch of United Banks. Hopefully you can spare some time soon so I can show you around LA.”

He walks away before you or Deacon can speak, and you’re left to watch him and wonder why he chose to acknowledge you.

“Think he’s a suspect?” Deacon murmurs into your ear as you turn toward him.

“No,” you answer, moving your professionally styled hair as you shake your head. “Just a man with a roving eye. We have no evidence that our guy goes after women any more than men.”

“But he killed the woman last night.”

“The husband called it in, though. He was in the house when it happened. Said they were both tied up and she managed to get free and went into the bedroom to confront the thief. He’s scared, he doesn’t like being watched. Nothing like that guy.”

Deacon nods and pulls you close, smiling before he kisses you quickly. You slide your hand into his and follow him to your seat.

During the concert, nothing of note occurs. Even after it ends, you’re welcomed to Los Angeles by several couples, but no one sticks out as a possible suspect. So, disappointed and back at square one, you exit the concert hall and stand at Deacon’s side as he asks the chauffeur to fetch the car.

Just as the Bugatti pulls up, the man who parked your loaner car moves behind Deacon and presses a gun against the small of his back.

“Get in the car, Mr. Napier. I’d hate to shoot through your wife’s pretty dress,” he demands quietly. “Now.”

Deacon moves his hands slightly to show the man that he’s unarmed and mumbles, “Okay, okay.”

“In the car, Mrs. Napier,” he demands, jerking his head toward the passenger door.

You nod quickly, wearing faux fear on your face as you get in the front seat. Deacon sits in the driver’s seat beside you as the armed man slides in behind him.

“Nice car,” he applauds. “Now drive to your house. Either one of you moves for a phone… if you even adjust the air vent, I will shoot you both.”

You don’t think he will, not somewhere as noticeable and closed-in as the car, but you nod and pretend to swallow a sob as Deacon pulls the Bugatti out of the short driveway.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the man begins as Hondo speaks into your earpiece to alert you that he’s behind you in an unmarked car. “We’re going to go into your house, you’re going to turn off the alarm and get out of my way, and I’m going to take whatever I want. Understood?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Deacon replies.

The man presses the gun against your temple and yells, “Understood?!”

“Yes,” Deacon answers quickly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as his hands remain firmly at 10 and 2. “Understood.”

“I trust you, Dan,” you whisper as his left hand shifts slightly. “And everything you’d want people to do.”

“Shut up!” the man demands, lowering his gun slightly as he looks between you and Deacon.

“I trust you, Daniel,” you repeat softly, hoping your wire picks it up.

“I hope you don’t regret that,” Hondo answers in your ear. “Turn one light too early if you mean it, Deac.”

Deacon’s jaw clenches as he approaches the last light before your turn.

“This way is faster,” he tells the thief as he hits the blinker but doesn’t move.

Hondo’s engine revs as he increases his speed, steering his car to the right to perform a PIT manoeuvre.  When his front bumper collides with the side of the Bugatti, Deacon releases the wheel and turns toward you. He grabs the man’s forearm and hits it against the passenger seat as you retrieve your service weapon from your ankle holster. The car slides to a stop against the curb, and the man drops his gun, then begins crying as you level your aim at him.

“You’re under arrest,” you tell him, panting as you try to catch your breath and lower your heart rate.

“Who are you?” the man whimpers as Deacon holds his arm between the front seats.

“Detective Kay, LAPD,” you answer. “This is Sergeant Kay. And the man about to pull you out onto the pavement is Sergeant Hondo. LAPD SWAT.”

“Wait,” he interrupts, sniffling. “You’re actually married?”

Hondo rips the door open before you can answer and grabs the back of the man’s shirt collar to haul him out of the car. He looks through the open back door to check on you and Deacon, then clicks his tongue.

“Luca and Street are not going to be happy.”

You tip your head back against the headrest and groan.

“Congratulations, Detective Kay,” Deacon says.

He smiles as you turn in the seat to face him.

“I love you,” you tell him softly. “Even more without the expensive jewelry.”

“But I look good in the sunglasses, right?”

You laugh and nod but point out, “We didn’t need them for a concert at night, though.”

Deacon laughs with you, and as the approaching police lights reflect around you, you know your life is richer with Deacon than with any material belongings you could ever borrow or earn.

[puma-riki]

No One Noticed....

Synopsis: You've never seemed to make friends well. Sure, you had people you knew and were well acquainted with, but no one ever seemed to get closer to you or want to. You think that no one notices you and you'll continue the rest of your college years alone like all the years before. Except Ni-ki notices just about everything you do.

Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor (or attempts at), slight angst, smau + written parts

Warnings: none

Characters: Enhypen (all), Eunchae (lesserafim), Keeho, Soul, (P1Harmony)

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

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Masterlist | Previous | Next

03. Existential dread + written

[name]:

Each day seemed to blend together. Every morning was the same—you'd get up, go to your classes, have no social interactions at all, and then come back to your apartment that your parents were working hard to pay for, just for you.

You felt guilty. Your parents were so proud of you for getting into the college you worked your ass off to attend. They shared their excitement for you to start your own little life with school and all the new people you'd meet, people you could bring over during holidays. They'd imagined the friends you'd make filling their table, sharing stories on how you guys had met and cheerfully sharing the same adoration for you as they did.

You would be sad to share the news that you'd be coming home for break empty-handed, for the second year. You don't know why it'd seemed too hard for you to connect with people. It's not like you've never talked to a person before. you had been in plenty of extracurriculars in high school, one of which was theater. You were good at what you did—organizing, tech work, always making sure the show ran smoothly. People appreciated you, right? You were in the group pictures, but never fully. Cropped out, a half-figure on the edge of the frame, while everyone else beamed in front of the camera. You never got invited to the after-parties. You never even knew they happened until you saw the Instagram posts the next morning. It hurt, but after a while, you got used to it. You showed up, did your part, and slipped out quietly, unnoticed, as if your presence didn't really matter. And now, college wasn't much different.

Enough depressing talk of the past. At least in college, no one expected you to have a social life. Everyone was busy, and being alone was almost normal. But even knowing that didn’t make it feel any less lonely.

You huffed as you pushed your key into your apartment's lock and turned it. Upon Entry, you were embraced by the warmth of your heater and the orange hue of the small lamps scattered about your place. You kicked your door shut and toed off your shoes, then made a beeline for your bedroom.

Your room had the same feel as the rest of your apartment. A small lamp shone down on your desk next to the door, scattered with half-finished homework. A stained-glass lamp glowing softly on your dresser, adjacent to your bed. Your bed was right next to the window that overlooked the city street. You sat your half-drunk boba on your nightstand next to yet, you guessed it, another lamp. You sat on your bed and looked out the window and watched all the people walk by, blissfully unaware of an admirer from above.

The city lights flickered to life outside your window, reflecting against the glass as the sky deepened from pink to blue. It was beautiful, but distant, like everything else. You sat by the window, staring at the people below, moving with purpose, with company.

You watched the streets below. Some people were rushing off by themselves, some were linked in arms with each other and chatting, others stood idly against walls or walked in and out of shops.

Couples linked arms, friends chatted, even strangers seemed more connected to the world than you were. Your eyes caught on a guy wiping down tables outside a nearby restaurant. He looked up as a girl walked out, her uniform and jacket marking the end of her shift. He opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, but hesitated. She walked right past him, not even sparing him a glance. His face fell just slightly before he turned back to his task, scrubbing the table with renewed intensity.

You stared, feeling a tug of recognition. Was he disappointed in her, or in himself? You wondered if you'd ever been the girl, completely unaware of someone’s desire for connection, too wrapped up in your own world to notice.

Probably not.

You tore your gaze from the window and pulled your phone from your pocket. A reminder came up on your phone.

Ni-ki biology tutoring session @ 3 tmrw !!

Right, that was tomorrow.

You've been in the tutoring program for a while now. Strangely, Ni-ki was the only one person who signed up for sessions with you this semester. usually, you have a session every other day.

It felt strange seeing his name on your screen, knowing you’d never actually tutored him before. Sure, you’d seen him plenty of times in class—he sat right behind you in biology, close enough that you could hear him tapping his pen against the desk during long lectures. But beyond the occasional brush of elbows when passing each other or mumbled exchanges, you hadn’t really spoken to him.

There had been a few moments, though. Little things, like the time you almost bumped into him while walking through the classroom door. You had both been moving at the same time, awkwardly shuffling in that way where neither of you knew who should go first. You’d blurted out, “Sorry!” and glanced up at him. He had met your eyes for barely a second before replying, "You're fine," in a tone that felt neutral—neither cold nor warm—and that had been the end of it.

He never made an effort to continue the interaction. He didn't ask how you were, or even give a polite smile. It was just... transactional, like you were two bodies moving through the same space but living in different worlds.

You wondered if he even remembered. Maybe to him, you were just another face in a crowded class, nothing more than the girl who sat in front of him. But now he’d signed up for tutoring, and you’d be sitting face-to-face, forced to acknowledge each other beyond the occasional shared oxygen in the lecture hall.

You were curious, but not hopeful. It would likely be just like every other connection you’d tried to make—brief, functional, and shallow. He’d come for help, you’d give him what he needed, and that would be that. No new conversations, no shared inside jokes or study sessions spilling into friendly coffee chats. Just another person passing through your life, barely noticing you.

But at least with Ni-ki, you had a chance to speak again, to break the silence that lingered between you every time he shifted in his seat behind you.

The reminder blinked off your phone as the screen dimmed. you dropped your phone onto your stomach and laid back on your bed. its softness makes you feel weightless.

The ceiling looked exactly how it had the day before. The lamps glowed softly, casting a warm light that didn’t reach the cold emptiness inside you. You closed your eyes, feeling the loneliness settle in your chest like a weight you’d carried for far too long.

No one noticed.

[bunnybead123]

I Love How Orion Pax is in Transformers One

I really like Transformers.

And I also really like Optimus Prime, and how cool and reliable he is most of the time. He's the kind of guy that would help me reach my full potential and then play it off that I always had the touch deep down. Like this is the kind of Robot that could take on an entire army of other giant robots and win single handedly. Even as Orion Pax in most, he's still got that strong sense of justice and that intrinsic belief that all beings deserve to live, and gosh, he's just the best.

So imagine my initial apprehension when I see the first Transformers One trailer and the Orion Pax shown is one that is brash and impulsive who constantly drags people into his messy hair brained plans for his own ego and glory. I was genuinely worried that I was going to dislike him because of that, like, I couldn't imagine this weird frat bro becoming, well, the Optimus Prime.

Well.

I just got back from the theaters and my God, my love for transformers has been cemented even harder than before, and at the very center of it is the movie's version of Orion Pax.

He's so silly and weird and kind of stupid, but like, an endearing kind of stupid that makes you want to be stupidly hopeful for a better future too. And he's so goddamn fucking selfless during the whole movie, every weird thing he does is because he wants to help the other cybertronians, especially his best friend, D-16, who he loves so much and is the complete opposite of in many ways.

His rebellious streak is also handled really well too, like how he takes zero bullshit from any of the corrupt higher ups of Cybertron, but it's light-hearted because he's young and naive and still believes in the best that his species could offer. His very first scene is to try and look up information on the matrix of leadership because he's trying to do everything in his power to help with the energon deficiency. Even his idea to get into the race is to first let D-16 see the race up close and to also raise awareness that the cogless cybertronians were also worthy of respect as well.

It's interesting to note that Orion Pax never tries to make the situation ever about himself, and that he's constantly trying to support others to change into their best selves. In fact the only times he ever tries to get the spotlight onto himself, is when he screws up and other people are at risk for his actions. He always defaults to saying that everything is his fault and that's why I feel like all of his failures didn't feel as emotionally grating because it was actually nice that he was always willing to take responsibility for his actions and their subsequent consequences. It makes a really good contrast with Megatron in the end, as the deception was too blinded by revenge and hatred to see the true extent of his actions.

He's a good bean and I totally understand why he was chosen for leadership in the end.

[class-of-classic-blog]

CLASS OF CLASSICS HEADCANONS:

•Badwolf is a theater kid. He single-handedly performed musicals in his room at 2 AM ( Phantom of the Opera and Hamilton are his favorite)

• Dark Fairy loves to go to the parties( how did she get invited? A little help on the inside) although Ever after parties are a lot less wild then the fae ones.

• Candy Witch had the same problem as Ginger. No one trusted her food which is a shame because she loves baking and she would spend hours making sure that sweets were beautifully decorated because she thought that if they looked good people may actually want to try them. ( they didn't). Well, more for villains.

• Goldilockes is hoplessly romantic. She dreams of her mr. just right and it cost her a several heartbreakes.

• Red had developed a strange love toward the fire wepons.

•Snow White and Evil Queen are toxic ex-s. They have hooked up a lot of times but they claim that it "means nothing" and they do it because "the other one doesn't like it so to spite them" ( they are constantly lying to each other and their close friends sense what's going on but doesn't say anything).

•Snow White had a very manipulative mother who didn't show her much affection (only in public for a show), so she promised herself that she would always make sure that her daughter knew that she was loved. She would never be like her own mother…

•Cinderella likes hobbies for "old ladies" like knitting, embroidery, and gardening. To be specific she likes growing her own vegetables and loves getting her hands dirty despite being criticized for "not acting like a proper princess". She's very proud of her own hard work.

•Cinderella was also very scared of her destiny and what her destined prince would be like. She didn't have anyone to tell her fears to because her friends wouldn't understand so she just kept them inside.

•Pied Piper and Chesire Cat are partners in crime. Two very chaotic aro-ace beasties. You would think that the Chesire is the mischievous one who always gets poor Piper in trouble, but no. Dude can control living being with his music and there are some assholes at school that are getting on his last nerves.

•Alice Wonderland is always looking for adventure. Full of energy. Very energetic. Okay, too much energy. Girl is hyperactive from 5 AM to 1 AM. Also, guess who has ADHD?

•Odette and Odile are dating. Odile brother, the next Rothbart, is helping them cover it up. Why? Because all characters in the story agree that their fairytale sucks. Despite their roles, they are a beastie trio.

•There are two Charmings that were disowned by their own families after discovering their destiny: Damian ( beast) and David ( good king).

[leprosycock]

what’s really cool and awesome and normal is how in spite of artists’ best efforts to offer art to the general public, to people who don’t have art education and aren’t immersed in a particular sect of any given genre or culture, putting their work in low-cost or free galleries or airports or the sides of buildings or in parks or in malls or in outdoor shopping squares or in any public area where their projects can be viewed, people still reject the notion of art as a whole because they consider it entirely secondary to everything valuable in a person’s life. you can’t tell someone you’re an art major without seeing that inherent condescension or repulsion or confusion crossing someone’s face if they haven’t bothered to engage with art on a personal level before. it’s always considered an afterthought and never anything vital to the world we all live in and how art exists in genuinely and literally every single fucking facet of our lives. if you tell someone you understand art and can engage with it on a professional level, you’re considered pretentious and self-aggrandizing/obsessed and stuck-up and snotty and impossible to talk to. if you look down on extremely milquetoast and uninteresting and surface-level pieces of art, like very bad generic music with poor and uninspired poetry or extremely literal portraiture or ai art, you’re a gatekeeper and, again, pretentious and snotty. you are not permitted to engage with your passions outside of fellow artists because the “my kid/little sibling/niece/nephew/a five year old could do that” mindset is so pervasive and unless something is extremely easy to swallow and exceedingly literal, people will not accept it as Real Art because they refuse to understand its history, context, the artist’s technical skill and education, and WHY it exists. this also definitely pivots to subject matter and how only certain kinds are permitted and allowed by many, many others. sure, you as a self-obsessed millennial woman can engage with a coffee table book full of Powerful Feminist Quotes about how your ex-boyfriend wouldn’t go see “it ends with us” with you in theaters and your grandpa made a joke about periods once, but if you’re forced to engage with abstraction or an artist who happens to say a slur or the amount of precision and planning and dedication and adoration that goes into performing 4d design that discusses subject matter that YOU don’t like, you’ll shrivel like a fucking leaf and retreat back to what makes you comfortable. i hate it i hate anti-art and i hate being stuck in anti-art worlds

[hazellevessque]

Are you serious they are making this an actual movie you have to get tickets to and go to the theater to watch instead of just putting it on Netflix? Are you joking? I don’t know why but that’s hilarious to me

[miodiodavinci]

i saw that you used to hint at oc stuff on twitter (don't ask me why im digging im looking for zola stuff lmao) why don't you post more about them?

i am simply terrified that if i post oc things online someone will steal the concept and run with it faster and better than i ever could have and then i will be devastated forever and ever

more seriously i have very little to show for any of my oc things (adhd brain making life difficult as per usual awawawawawa) and every time i've shared oc things in the past i've ended up never following up on it and it makes me feel bad and guilty so i've just convinced myself i will Never talk about my ocs until i have something substantial i can put out there

[trans-estinien]

i love being autistic cause sometimes i get a glimpse into how regular people perceive things and its like. what the fuck. what the fuck is that? you live like this? and its normal?? i think YOURE the weird one actually. im fine. thanks though.

[pebblezone]

I think she would collect the minions McDonald’s toys

[dickggansey]

getting really annoyed by my friend thinking she's more mature than me bc she goes to the gym and studies and works so that means she "has her life together" and straight up told me she's "doing better than me" like she's right but she didn't have to say it

[sagechan]

my "I'm with the boomers on this one" gripe is that, when I go to the movie theater, famously a place that is supposed to be. dark. I should not be blinded by a 9-year-old playing Kim Kardashian Nail Salon on maximum fucking brightness right next to me. it's so awkward cuz that's not your chuld and you don't want to speak to/parent someone else's kid, but god the way i wanted to scream (at the parent, not the child) to at least turn down the brightness if the kid absolutely cannot get through a 2 hour movie without NEEDING to be on a phone. if you know your child can't go 5 minutes without whipping out the equivalent of looking into the fucking Sun, then don't bring them to the movie theater! which is a public place! where other people are trying to exist and enjoy a movie! and if you know your kid will be bored or disinterested by the fucking. Planet of the Apes movie. and will be on their phone the whole time. THEN WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THEM TO THAT MOVIE ANYWAY. WHERE I AM TRYING. TO SEE.

[daz4i]

love my social worker he's so sweet and i love my mentor/guide/one day i'll find a fitting english word for what her role is too. last time i met the former he said they talked abt the thing i'm starting this thursday and said "while it feels like these circumstances may be impossible for you, logically speaking you shouldn't succeed there, yet both of us are certain you will" which is very nice but also AAAAAAAAAAAAA

[moesartblog]

I’m gonna rant in the tags and then delete this but People on this site are starting once again to put WAY too much faith in the electoral college system

[theriverdalereviewer]

seeing the discourse around whether oppenheimer should have represented japanese/indigenous americans and I just wanna say I think they can feel however they want about this film

[abowlofpetuniasandawhale]

once again asking that men in shared spaces remember they are in shared spaces and consider the other people in those spaces (which are shared)

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.