supernatural-who-lock:

shadows-of-a-fallen-angel:

fully-baked:

This nigga just copped a super Mario star he invincible af nah but forreal tho somebody explain this

Metallic silver coating, does rainbow effect thing when passing lights

thank you car side of tumblr

supernatural-who-lock:

shadows-of-a-fallen-angel:

fully-baked:

This nigga just copped a super Mario star he invincible af
 nah but forreal tho somebody explain this

Metallic silver coating, does rainbow effect thing when passing lights

thank you car side of tumblr

mentallyfuckingonedirection:

ruinedchildhood:



IM CRYING

monobeartheater:

electric-inhale:

the-maple-meme:

hetalianbae:

tom-sits-like-a-whore:

benot-may:

bluesigma:

piikopoko:

you were either a winx 

image

or a w.i.t.c.h

image

this makes me feel old.

I was totally a spy

image

i was aLL THREE

was this the old superwholock? 

THIS IS THE OLD SUPERWHOLOCK

All three heck yes!

the old superwholock? Nah these shows all have examples of POC and well written diverse woman who do not rely on men to build their character

buttkeyk:

aleatoryw:

justsomecrazydreamer:

Glamour finally speaking my language

FICS BEFORE DICKS

One time I showed this guy my fanfiction and he said it was great

buttkeyk:

aleatoryw:

justsomecrazydreamer:

Glamour finally speaking my language

FICS BEFORE DICKS

One time I showed this guy my fanfiction and he said it was great

justlookatthosesausages:

mindyourhelm:

wild-hearts-run:

awomanontheverge:

kanyewesticle:

a page in my sisters diary

More like a page out of Regina’s diary.

^that comment.



#HIJACKED BY THE OUAT FANDOM

justlookatthosesausages:

mindyourhelm:

wild-hearts-run:

awomanontheverge:

kanyewesticle:

a page in my sisters diary

More like a page out of Regina’s diary.

^that comment.

#HIJACKED BY THE OUAT FANDOM

femalefrontedbandsconfessions:


10367
10337 I can’t speak for everyone, so when I personally make my ‘reasons why I love Symphonic Metal’ I don’t intend to imply that everyone does or should too. I make the confessions for other people who love the genre to enjoy. I hope it doesn’t come off as ‘LOVE SYMPHONIC METAL OR ELSE!!!’ Everyone has different tastes after all. I also make so many Symphonic Metal admiration confessions because I like to focus on appreciating the things I love rather than on hating bands/genres I don’t care for. But again, that’s just me personally.

femalefrontedbandsconfessions:

10367

10337 I can’t speak for everyone, so when I personally make my ‘reasons why I love Symphonic Metal’ I don’t intend to imply that everyone does or should too. I make the confessions for other people who love the genre to enjoy. I hope it doesn’t come off as ‘LOVE SYMPHONIC METAL OR ELSE!!!’ Everyone has different tastes after all. I also make so many Symphonic Metal admiration confessions because I like to focus on appreciating the things I love rather than on hating bands/genres I don’t care for. But again, that’s just me personally.

fruitshipping-queen:

One of the things I HATE the most about Harmonix, Sirenix, Bloomix and Mythix.

There is no individuality.

They are all wearing the same outfit with different colours and a few minor differences. Sure I liked the designs of them but it didn’t suit some of them. For example: Sirenix and Bloomix…

Reblog if your parents have ever:

madam-squishy:

- pointed out acne
- treated you like a little slave (you get them EVERYTHING)
- made fun of people who you idolize
- made you feel like an outcast
- ever called you a mistake or worthless
- forced you to go to a place where you weren’t comfortable
- made jokes about your weight
- made you cry
- made you break down
- made you feel like you were all alone
If so I’m going to send each and everyone of you a message!

hey you

yeah you

you wanna plot? ask me something? you wanna talk? tell me how your day was? tell me how much of a bitch your sibling is? tell me how much you love fried oreos?

well you go right ahead because my ask is open and i’m always here to listen

The White Discord 6

This chapter and probably the next will be all flashback.

It was a stormy night. Each drop colder than the next.

The former princess huddled herself against the wall of her cave…her home. Azula had tried to make herself a fire; she’d lit it up at least thrice only to have the wind smother it once more. So she’d given up and simply sat there listening to the rain thrash against the side of the cave.

Aside from the cold Azula enjoyed the storms. They were noise in the overpowering silence. On some days—if the rain was too chilling—she’d exit her cave and talk to the drops as they fell or respond to the thunder as if it were actually talking to her in some foreign tongue.

But on nights like these, she’d simply sit within the cave and watch the lighting spark the skyline. Azula was particularly fond of the lighting. It was familiar. It was empowering.

And on most stormy nights, she’d go out and bend it.

The one thing that attached her to her civil self…or what was left of it.

After a while Azula couldn’t resist any longer. She was tired of sitting around, so she got up to go bend the lightning which coaxed so loudly to her. She readied herself as a bolt came her way. She drew it towards herself, letting the sparks dance dangerously close to her body. Seconds felt like exhilarating minutes as the electricity pulsed through her, passing by in slow motion. She then released it back into the sky when the power-induced euphoria faded.

And like any euphoria…there came a crash, a dysphoria.

For Azula it was rather unexpected. Until that moment she’d never been harmed by one of the storms.

Just after her moment of short-lived glory, the storm intensified. The rain falling so thick and dense that it bought a sort of soreness to her skin.

Azula headed back for the safety of her cave, the wind whistling viciously in her ear creating for a tremendous and annoying sound. Between the wind and the rain, Azula could barely hear herself think…had she any thoughts.

She could barely keep herself upright against the wind, much less actually make any forward progress. The trees weren’t doing much better either.

If those two elements alone didn’t do her any distress, it was the thunder. It was all too loud, louder than usual. And it always set Azula off.

A childhood fear.

The princess was fine with thunder when it was the aftermath of her stellar bending. And she could tolerate it when it wasn’t ground-shakingly loud.

This however was absolutely terrifying with no human-made noise to muffle the true volume or buildings to absorbed the sound waves. The sort of openness of the forest only perked the sound up as it echoed off the trees.

Cupping her hands over her ears—muscles straining at the absurd amount of effort she was putting into the task—she broke into an all-out run.

Naturally she found a large pile of debris—mostly large rocks and fallen trees—blocking the entrance.

She let out a rather loud cry—one that was consumed by storm.

Azula had no shelter now. Her stomach began twisting into knots. She lurched forward into another messy sprint.

Maybe she could outrun it. Outrun the noise. Outrun the storm…

***

Cheng busied himself with his nightly chores. The young man was doing his best to prepare his parents for the day he’d move out. Such preparations included digging out a well closer to the small house so that they—in old age—would not have to venture out far to get water.

Another task was to finish cleaning out the old tool shed. This task was-self assigned.

This was the task he’d get working on…the well would have to wait until morning. He’d be able to see it better then anyways.

He was working in the shed, filling up makeshift boxes with junk he’d sell at the market, when it started to storm. The rain was relentless and the wind merciless against the wooden walls.

He could practically feel the small structure shaking as the wind whistled between the cracks and the rain leaked through the roof.

Cheng ignored it and continued with his work. He had a fair amount to go before he’d be ready to journey to the market and he was determined to knock this one off his to do list.

It was minutes in when the boy’s mother had his father call for him. The man’s voice boomed over the thunder shouting warnings of the severity of the storm. Insisting that he drop what he was doing and come inside now.

He feigned an inability to hear.

“Don’t be a fool, boy!” His father called out. “Get in the house ‘fore the shed takes off on ya!”

Cheng considered keeping up the act and pressing on with the task, but his father’s tone had him thinking second thoughts. Reluctantly he cast the box aside and headed for his house. Easier said than done; the house was actually a fair deal of space away from the shed.

His family certainly wasn’t poor to say the least. They owned a fair deal of property.

Cheng struggled against the wind. He considered calling out for some assistance from his father—but his pride held him back. He was 18. What kind of man cries to his father at any sign of conflict. He’d push through.

Out of the corner of his eye Cheng saw the shed pry from its fixture.

At this point Cheng was ready to drop his man-pride and start shrieking for his dad. He had opened his mouth when something…one else caught his attention.

There was a girl running near the jungle’s edge. She was a slim girl in both height and weight. Despite her small build, she seemed to be faring better against the storm than he. Even so, she was radiating fear. She didn’t think she was going to make it.

This gave Cheng a sort of boost. He started in her direction, determined to catch up with her before she decided that she wasn’t welcomed on the property.

When he finally reached the girl, her eyes went wide—and with a wild gleam. She made motion to dart the other way. But Cheng pulled her closer to him. “Where are you going? It’s insane out here, you should come inside with me.”

She tried to shove out of his grasp, but he held firmly. He didn’t quite understand her resistance. “Please, let me help you.”

She didn’t speak.

Not even a sound.

Just heavy, erratic breathing.

She finally stopped struggling and let him lead her inside.

“Who is that?” Cheng’s mother asked as the two—dripping wet—entered the foyer.

“I don’t know, she just kind of came out of the jungle.” Cheng answered as he hugged her close to him. She was shivering, he could feel her heartbeat—just as fast as her breathing.

“Who are you?” Him mother looked to the girl. “Are you alright?”

And still she didn’t speak.

Cheng’s mother turned to his father. “Heavens…the girl must be freezing. Thomas, get the girl something to eat…and a blanket or two, and something dry and without tares to wear.” She paused. “And sit her by the fire so she can warm up.”

Thomas nodded. “I guess we’re all lucky that you chose tonight to be stubborn as a donkey-weasel. Now get yerself by the fire too.”

Cheng mirrored his father’s nod and lead the girl to the fireplace.

“What were you doing out there?” Cheng tried again once they were situated on the floor; him in a crisscross position and her in his lap leaning against his shoulder.

Again, she had no answer for him. No answer but soft muffled tears. He hugged her tighter, a foreign need to protect her kicking in. He pushed aside the disheveled bangs clinging to her head, all the while wondering to himself what in God’s name had happened to her. “It’ll be alright. You have us now.”

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