Freddie Lounds is a terrible, terrible person and I love her
Have you seen him cook? It’s an entire performance.
food porn. hand porn. organs of viciously murdered people porn.
*faints*
(Source: bericdondarrion)
i hate old people who whine about the new generation as if texting hasn’t helped anyone, as if a selfie is really as bad as like idk…reagan
All I have to say about this is …. look, they gave us Reagan. I don’t actually give a shit what Boomers/self promoting dickwad Gen Xers think of the youths these days.
Shake It
Metro Station
I’d take you home if you don’t leave me at the front door.
Mary it’s your favorite band
I maintain that Metro Station were what people who don’t know about Fall Out Boy think Fall Out Boy is.
I still can’t hear about this band without remembering someone in bandom saying it was funnier if he was talking about a kitten throughout the whole album.
And then I cry and my tears are the motts.
Bjorn Lothbrok appreciation post
Oh my gob he is the most angry little kitten ever. So presh.
“<3__________________________<3”
#LOOKS LIKE TWINS WHERE ONE IS WATCHING THE OTHER GET READY TO GO TO A PARTY #A PARTY TO WHICH THE LATTER IS TAKING A DATE #A DATE THAT IS NOT THE FORMER TWIN #~QUIET UNSPOKEN JEALOUSY~ (via rrrowr)
OMG RO, do not tease me with Peter twincest and then not deliver. I NEED DETAILS OKAY.
OH IF YOU INSIST. Let’s say that the top twin is Adam (as that is the actual name of the character we’re looking at) and the bottom gif is Peter. They really have this whole Biblical thing going on with the names, don’t they?
Peter is as we expect him to be and as we’ve come to know him — fairly self interested but capable of pretending he isn’t — but Adam loves him anyway. Can hardly avoid it with the way Peter draws people in with his smooth charm. It’s an affect that Adam can take on too, when it suits him. It used to be a thing they did together — wooing, seducing, manipulating in tandem. Adam had only faltered when he realized where his affections truly were.
“Where are you going tonight?” Adam asks.
“As if you don’t know. There’s a banquet at Town Hall and the Hales need to make a showing,” Peter replies as he slides a pair of gel slicked fingers through his hair. “Naturally, I should be the one to go.”
Adam watches as Peter washes his hands — watches as Peter arranges his bow tie and tugs his jacket tighter around his waist. It’s been a while since Peter last wore this particular suit, and he’s grown since then. When Peter neatly slides the buttons into place, the jacket fits snugly but not too, folding easily around the firm muscle of his back. Peter straightens out the lapels as he turns to Adam, giving him a look that invites an opinion.
“You should shave,” Adam suggests. Peter’s facial hair is a thin shadow against his skin, sliding all the way down to the sharp cut of his collar.
“And look like a baby? That’s sure to draw in the ladies,” Peter drawls, rolling his eyes as he turns away. “You’ve lost your touch.”
Adam looks down and admits to himself that Peter is probably right about that. If he still had the same allure as he once did — if he’d continued right alongside his brother, maybe Peter wouldn’t be leaving at all tonight.
YES GOOD.
And it’s not as if Adam waits up for him or anything, he hasn’t slipped into that kind of well of self-pity.
But when Peter comes home looking a little looser at the edges, not drunk but obviously not entirely sober either, Adam gets sidetracked again. He watches Peter pull at his tie until it’s a thin cord draped over his neck, a few open buttons showing the dip between his collar bones and inches of smooth skin.
“How was it?” he asks, as much to jolt himself out of the dangerous staring he’s doing as it is out of real curiosity.
Peter shrugs are he pulls the jacket off and slips it over a chair. “The usual forced family togetherness mixed with lackluster conversation with strangers,” he says, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. His hair’s a little less perfect than when he left, a few strands catching the light, a curl falling onto his forehead.
Adam tells himself it’s not relief that’s expanding like warm foam inside his chest. Just like it’s not lust that’s guiding his eyes across the tendons of Peter’s forearms. “Pity. Maybe next time there’ll be something to catch your eye.”
Peter cuts him a glance. “Talia asked after you. I explained you were busy brooding. She’s expecting both of us for lunch next week, if you can drag yourself out of your slump for a few hours.”
He drops himself with a careless kind of grace into the armchair across from Adam, and it’s a struggle to keep his gaze. Peter’s always had a dangerous kind of awareness, like a reflex held at bay by only the smallest twitch.
Adam wonders what he sees in the not-quite mirror of his face, all those subtle differences people are always so keen to point out, to latch onto and hold up like bricks in a dividing wall.
Not for anything like the first time, Adam wants to tear the wall and all the space around it down, just dust and tatters and trampled conformity before he finally, finally gets the one thing he genuinely wants.
Instead he sits, stews in the unfairness of it, and thinks how much longer.
“Why do you still go?” Adam asks, gesturing broadly. “To the parties and the banquets and the functions… You don’t think we’re too old for that now?”
“Is that why you stopped?” Peter parrots, sounding remarkably as if he’s been wondering at Adam’s reasons. “We haven’t even hit thirty yet. We’re in our prime! We should be going out together, enjoying ourselves. Drinking, eating, fucking, falling in—” Peter’s tirade abruptly halts as he grimace. “Okay maybe not that last one.”
“I could be okay with that last one,” Adam dares to say — a soft confession as he looks at Peter.
Peter sucks at his teeth and looks around him for the decanter of whiskey they keep near the lounge chairs. He pinches two glasses from the lower shelving, and after pouring two healthy servings, offers one to Adam.
“To drinking, eating, fucking, and falling in love, then,” Peter says, tilting his glass toward Adam for a toast. “Go out with me next time.”
FYI, I hate everyone in this bar right now.
(Source: laney-cakes)
+
=
AW YEAH
And here I thought Sterek yam shipping was cracky.
God bless, fandom, god bless.
my sexual orientation is “fucking lazy” and so is my gender identity
#today i am presenting as naked and with dirty hair #my pronouns are meh and eh #my primary political feelings are no go away
I say “genderqueer,” but my actual gender identity is “oh shit, I’m supposed to know this? I didn’t study.”
Got asked to make this rebloggable.
The LJ link and the other website link.
*shakes in a corner*
DON’T JUDGE ME FOR TRYING TO SURVIVE THAT BULLSHIT.
Very attractive hands
on the weekends, isaac is part of a historical reenactment club
jcf, people, tag your porn.
His neck, I swear.
Andy sneaks in and goes for this kiss at Absolute Radio
WHAT
I just. I have so many feels rn.
(Source: youeatadvillikeitscandy)
AU: Isaac and Jackson make a sex tape.
Ugggh, I need to go fling myself into a volcano or shoot myself into the sun.
Offered in New York City Friday - Saturday nights 12AM-4AM. If you or a friend need a safe ride, please call! Save this number and spread the word! What a wonderful organization
This sounds like a really great resource!
Hi five, zipcar.
About Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
