#i hate youuuu

[phykoha]

Can i stop getting fake claiming videos in my recommended now, thanks

[kadextra]

all my homies hate the code monster

[captain-orphic-al]

IJAG is an amazing fic. Everyone should give it a read, even if you don't normally read x reader fics. Go for the writing itself.

[I would hand the multiverse to him on a silver platter-]

IJAG is by - @htsan

[chocolatmieux]

weirdo. ugly. and my pretty pretty princess + nalins

[nebulacritter]

fuck this guy for cucking mario

[vanweezer]

i literally need to i NEEEEED TO know the fall out boy songs kendall sung for his btr audition i NEED TO KNOW. it mustve been like 2007-9. literally any fall out boy song from then or even earlier WHATEVER. what song did he SING. I NEED TO KNOW. I SWEAR TO GOD KENDALL

[bankaizen]

tumblr quit fucking changing shit

[eldrbraus]

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN LILIA CLUB SSR MID FEB?????????????????????????????????????????

WAS IT NOT ENOUGH WITH THE SSR DORM AND THE SR EVENT CARDS IN JPTWST

fuck.

[preetrambles]

ghar is 78112278002200 times better than schl

ya ya whatever

[kkeomchiz]

i love minho's voice

[gayforbagels]

Tumblr's mobile UI is a disgrace. It's in shambles. I hope it was worth it. I'm livid

[rivereddies]

thoughts on sushi flavored vape juice?

get out of my walls. stop putting these cursed thoughts in my head

[32rabbitteeth]

This one’s the most infuriating ad.

[wispscribbles]

I love your ghost design. I wanna squeeze him :⁠^⁠)

If no hug then why hug-shaped???

[sp0o0kylights]

Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him. 

They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down. 

His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror. 

This is his golden ticket. 

The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before. 

He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.

 Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.

No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now? 

He's fucked. 

He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.) 

 Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB. 

If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.

Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it. 

"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin. 

Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)

"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters." 

Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss. 

"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!" 

Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough. 

"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.

Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks.  "Looking forward to it." 

Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling. 

Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him. 

Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face? 

The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.

Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth. 

("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that." 

Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!” 

Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!" 

"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness." 

Eddie flipped him off.) 

One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.

No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later. 

Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!

[yestrday]

Imagine a yandere! rival so fucking obsessed with you.

They claim to hate your guts, that you should fuck off and die. Every moment that you're in the same room as them they sneer at you and hurl ridicule and insults your way. And when you're out of the scene... well, they're relatively normal until someone mentions your name and a trigger seems to flip. They rant on and on and on about your stupid face and annoying voice and whatever whatever...

And then you have the audacity to smirk at him and say, "What? Obsessed with me, are you?"

It makes their blood fucking boil!

You're— ha! Them? Obsessed??? Fuck no! They'd sooner shoot their own foot than even think of you! See, this is why you're so fuckin insufferable! You think the whole world revolves around you and only you. Do you think you've even qualified a place in their thoughts?! Crazy bitch. You don't even respond to them, just leaning back and enjoying the numerous slanders shooting off their mouth at top speed. You make them crazy, with the way you just look at them like they're a speck of nothing. They're not nothing, god dammit!

Then they see you, hanging off the arm of a man. Didn't you hate their guts? (How does he know that of course he knows thatwhywouldn'the it's obvioussss you're not a great fuckin actor like you think you are) It's a grand party, everyone's in dresses with high slits and decked out in suits and ties like it's the Great Gatsby. You pass him by with your latest amour, and the only glance you give him is with a haughty smirk.

The champagne flute they're holding is shattered in their clenched hand. The nearby people gasp and scurry away when they see the blank look in their eyes.

So that's how you're gonna fuckin play, huh?

"You. Are. A. Bitch," they hiss, cornering you in the grand suite just 20 floors from the party. Their outfit is splattered in blood, their eyes are swirling from hate and sin and greed, and their lips are curled in an ugly snarl. "You think you can just waltz into the party and give any idiot your time of day?"

You yawn— the nerve of you!— and cross your legs on the plush velvet couch. It's the same as your past encounters, you are casual while your rival has steam out of his ears. "Since when did you care about the people I affiliate myself with? Thought I... didn't deserve a place in your thoughts."

"You don't." They slam their hands on either side of you and lean in till they're glaring directly into your eyes. "You don't deserve shit." You hum, raising a finger to their cheek and swiping away a speck of blood.

"Really now?" You smile at them coquettishly and press down on their lips with a bloody finger. "So why're you obsessed with me then, darling?"

They bite down on your finger. Hard. Drawing out blood till it mixes with that bastard's.

"Fuck if I know, bitch."