Mar 4
Cringe, I'm angry (just watched the news)
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from Poland
seen from Malaysia
seen from Kyrgyzstan
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Netherlands
seen from Austria
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
Cringe, I'm angry (just watched the news)
”byler wasnt queerbait!”
so this?
this wasnt queerbait?
ten years of buildup?
ten years of stringing us along,
giving us hints that maybe, just maybe,
we’d finally get something meant for us,
but i guess someone always gets
the short end
of the stick.
I have a lot to say but for now all I'll say is that Liam was the world's punching bag for 14 years, and for most of that time, he handled it, at least outwardly, with more grace and composure than most anyone could. The fact that people couldn't see that he was being eaten alive—figuratively, literally, by something (or many things)—has made me angry for years. He wasn't well. It was so obvious. I wish people could have had compassion for him.
he's two apples tall 🍎🍎
source
I was vibing on Tumblr doing my usual shit and was in the cripple punk tag as I am sometimes and I saw a bunch of people talking about "transabled" people in the tag.
As a trans and disabled person. Fuck you.
You do not want this. You do not want to be in pain in every second of your life and if you think you do you've clearly got some problems.
Get out of our community
Torrid
Navigation Actors Masterlist
My Wattpad📖
Buy Me a Coffee!☕
Want to be added to my taglist? Just a few clicks away! -> Taglist Form
Pairings; Jensen Ackles x wife!reader
Genre/warnings; domestic, angst, dark humor, humor, language, rage, frustration, vent fic, emotional exhaustion, comfort, ranting, mild threats, sarcasm
Summary: After the kind of day that makes saints swear, Y/N comes home furious — and Jensen learns that asking “what’s wrong, baby?” might be his dumbest move all week.
A/N: I've had a DAY. So you're gonna stress with me while I scream into my pillow and cry my eyeballs out.
709 words
The house was quiet. The kind of quiet that only exists after bedtime — when the kids are down, toys are picked up, and peace finally settles over the chaos.
Jensen was halfway through rinsing a glass when the front door slammed. Not closed. slammed.
He froze, hand hovering over the sink. That wasn’t a normal door close. That was the sound of someone holding it together with sheer willpower.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he called cautiously, drying his hands on a towel. “How’d it go at the doctor’s?”
You didn’t answer. Just stood in the entryway, coat half off, eyes sharp enough to cut through the dark.
He smiled softly, trying to play it safe. “You uh… you look—”
“Don’t.”
“Okay. Not saying a thing.”
You set your keys down with precision. Controlled fury. The kind that made Jensen’s brain whisper, run.
But he didn’t. Because he’s Jensen.
“Everything okay?” he asked, voice gentle.
You looked at him like he’d just asked if the sun rises in the west. “Am I okay?” You threw your arms out, pacing the tile. “I’ve been gone all day, Jensen. I made that appointment TWO MONTHS AGO — to get a full allergy panel, because, shocker, I’d like to know what’s trying to kill me! Appointment’s at 1:20. I see the doctor at 2:20. And you know what he tells me?”
Jensen blinked. “...I mean, kinda feeling like I don’t anymore—”
“THEY DIDN’T ORDER THE TEST!”
He straightened, eyes wide. “Wait—what?”
“Didn’t order it. Didn’t even order it. So they send me to the hospital. I spend four hours there, starving, dehydrated, nearly feral, and guess what—THEY can’t order it either!”
“Uh—”
“I’m not done!” You threw your bag on the table with a thud. “Then, Dr. Braincell looks at the scars on my arms after I told him they were from getting sunburnt and goes, and I quote, ‘It’s cancer or you’re allergic to the sun.’ What kind of degree do you need to be that stupid, Jensen? I’m sitting there starving, unmedicated, wondering if I’m dying or turning into a shiny Pokémon!”
He bit his lip, trying not to laugh. “A shiny Pokémon?”
You glared. “Do not laugh at me, Ackles.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t dare,” he said quickly, hands up in surrender, but there was that stupid little smirk threatening to crack through.
“INSANE!” You pointed at him, eyes wild. “I haven’t eaten since eight this morning! I went to CVS after all that, and they didn’t have my meds either because apparently changing it doesn’t actually change it. I had to go there, in person, fix my phone number because for some reason it was linked to my dads phone and they DID have my meds but it told my dad and not me, pay sixteen bucks, get my meds — only to find out they gave me Zyrtec. Ninety. Days. Of. Zyrtec. I don’t need allergy meds; I need a wake-up call!”
Jensen opened his mouth, very carefully. “So… what you’re saying is we’re… canceling the beach trip?”
Your eyes snapped to him.
He immediately realized his mistake. “Kidding! Kidding, baby. I’m kidding. Please don’t—”
“You think this is funny?”
“I think you’re gorgeous when you’re mad?”
“Jensen.”
He put his hands up, backing away an inch. “Okay, okay. Wrong time for charm. Copy that. You want me to call the doctor? I’ll call him. I’ll call his boss. I’ll drive to his office right now and explain basic testing procedures to his face—”
“You won’t even find his office before I find his house,” you grumbled, dropping onto the couch.
He studied you for a moment — the exhaustion in your shoulders, the way your hand rubbed at your temple. “You done, sweetheart?” he asked softly.
You glared. “Does it sound like I’m done?”
He hesitated, thinking, then offered with absolute sincerity, “…You want me to Google if you can be allergic to the sun?”
Your purse flew before your brain even registered it. It hit him square in the face with a whump and the satisfying jingle of keys.
He stumbled back, blinking, towel still in one hand, dignity left somewhere on the floor.
You just stood there, breathing hard, lips pressed together.
Jensen blinked once. Twice. Then quietly muttered,
“...fair.”
Taglist -> @globetrotter28 @adrienneleclerc @multiversefanfics @smoothdogsgirl @yoyok-era @deansbbyx @eagerlycyberchaos @star-yawnznn @mar-munteanu06 @barnes70stark @madelinessss @kittenlittle24 @whispersofautumnfog @swimmingglittertimemachine @dragonfly92 @enchantedtomeetcoffee @alyackles @notmewoah
everytime someone calls Shane the teams mom an angel loses its wings. if you even care
After reading the comments under Ona's farewell post, I wouldn't be surprised if she never opens sm again.
I like women's football because they behave like human beings. The exact same reason why I can't stand men's football.
They play against their partners in the most important games of their lives and have the decency to comfort each other after the final whistle.
They can lose a final and be proud of the silver medal because they know what it takes to get there.
And with this kind of behaviour, fans are turning women's football into the worst version of men's football. If you don't have anything nice to say, shut up.
I've seen my favourite players leave the club of my life (it's not Barça or other "big" team). I've seen them play for our biggest rivals and snatch trophies away from the club I've supported my whole life. And you know what? I'm fucking proud of them. Who better to take a medal from my team than the player who has grown up alongside us? It hurts. Of course it does. But being a horrible person and saying those things to a player only makes you a monster.
I truly hope Ona has the time of her life and plays better than ever next season, whatever team she joins. Even if it is fucking Arsenal. Because she is an incredible player and she deserves it.
