.....that-sounded-wrong

So the end of the watchtower is disturbing in many ways,

and sure Minkowski sounds aaaah hmmmm *wrong* and mr Cutter is creepy as always but HOLY SHIT WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE OTHERS???LOVELACE? THEM WAR PRISONERS????????? and assuming she’s the only person smart and evil enough to do something to Hera… IS MIRANDA FUCKING P R Y C E ON BOARD OF THE HEPHAESTUS RIGHT NOW????????!?! Y'ALL ??!?

  • Hoseok: i'm cold
  • Yoongi: here, have my jacket
  • Jimin: hey, i'm cold too
  • Jungkook: what? [taking off jacket] i told you to bring more layers but of course you didn't listen and now [piling scarves on Jimin] now look, i've got to make sure you don't FREEZE to death and [taking somebody else's hat] how long have you been cold you should've said something sooner,
The Boxer

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 10k

Prompt:

“You’re supposed to be in the hospital gown, it’s why we laid it out for you,” Y/N stated, pointing the pen in her hand at the white gown by his feet.

“I’m not wearing that paper shit,” Harry grumbled, “and I’m perfectly fine to leave.”

“That cut says otherwise,” Y/N says.

Harry watches as she sets down the clipboard and turns on the sink to wash her hands, she’s cute. She’s nothing like the kind Harry would go for. His usual prey would be at the bar, lonely, maybe going through a breakup, but he knew for sure that by the end of the night she would be in his bed. Y/N on the other hand looked like too pure for him, and he hated that look.

From his experience Harry had learned that girls like Y/N believed that they were too good for a guy like him. Girls like Y/N, with an innocent smile, soft skin, and soft voices, tended to only use him for one thing, to make their parents upset. Harry had seen it time and time again, it was only a matter of weeks before the girl would crush his heart and move on to someone better.

“I don’t feel anything,” Harry stated.

Harry had grown numb to just about everything. He couldn’t feel the punches thrown at him, he couldn’t feel his emotions, it all just seemed gone to him. He didn’t mind though, no emotions meant he couldn’t get hurt, and no pain meant he was unstoppable.

or

Boxer Harry Styles highers, incredibly perky Y/N as his on-call nurse.


“I hate the graveyard shift,” Y/N stated, slumping into the chair.

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Mutually Assured Dating

‘You were singing really loudly in the shower when I broke into your apartment but then i heard you slip and crash and oh god i should probably check on you in case i get done for murder instead of just robbery’ AU


It took all of fourteen seconds for Derek to realize he was in the wrong apartment.

First, he noticed the very large and scuffed up sneakers and boots ditched haphazardly kind of near the door but half into the living room. Cora was meticulous about her shoes and kept them neatly arranged in a shoe rack right next to the door. The only time they touched the floor was when her feet were in them.

Second, the stuff. There was so much stuff everywhere; clothes thrown over the back of the couch, dishes across the coffee table and all over the kitchen counters, books on every surface, a gaming console dragging wires across the floor and surrounded by games, in cases and out of them. Cora was an unintentional minimalist, in that she threw out anything she didn’t need and lacked a single sentimental bone in her body. Derek and Laura regularly made trips to wherever she lived to save family keepsakes and memories from her ruthless cleaning sprees.

Then he noticed the manly warble coming from somewhere deeper in the apartment, and Cora’s favorite topic of rant floated lazily to the forefront of his mind.

—but my neighbor, oh my god this guy! I’m going to kill him if I ever see him in the hall! His bathroom shares a wall with my bedroom and he sings in the shower, every shower, at all hours. Literally all hours, like 4am, and he only sings Christmas carols at 4am. I’ve had Jingle Bells stuck in my head for a week! 

Shoes, stuff, singing.

This was not Cora’s apartment.

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Whipped Cream (Jungkook smut)

Originally posted by nnochu


Description: Jungkook is your roommate. Among other things, his habit for baking shirtless made it… ‘difficult’ to live with him.

Themes: Smut, baker, collage, roommate au

This fic contains: Smut, adult content, food play, arguing, drinking, mentions of threesomes, swearing

Characters: Jungkook x You, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung

words: 7.5k

For this fic I used inspirations of food play and the roommate au from two anons <3

A/N: I refused to come back from my hiatus until I had something for my lovely and patient followers <3 (also, I was keen to come back so i’ll edit this and fix mistakes later)

@chanyeolingss, @jn-jngkk, @sugaspen <3


It wasn’t necessarily the pile of dishes or the trail of clothes that seemed to almost constantly hover around Jungkook like he was some annoying ass Avatar or something that got you so mad. It wasn’t the thick fragrance of his cologne or body wash that drifted through the open plan of your shared apartment every morning, or the smell of his musky sweat when he returned home from his evening jog, or from when he emerges from his room- having clearly just having a ‘fucking mind blowing’ wank. It wasn’t the soft melodies, or exciting electronic beats that flooded from his open window and into yours, nor his big and copious amounts of jackets and coats that made it nearly impossible to get your own fucking clothes from the rack next to the front door. Your frequent burning irritation had nothing to do with his presence, with the evidence of his existence in your apartment and life; it was with the man behind it all. It was with him. With fucking Jeon Jungkook. Ok, and maybe it was also for his fucking annoying baking habits. Did he really need to bring that shit home? Didn’t he get sick of it at work?

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Today I had to translate “I am burdened with unnecessary feelings” (estoy cargado con sentimientos innecesarios) and I misspelled cargado so it came out cagado

Somehow estoy cagado con sentimientos sounds both very wrong and so so right in Spanish… it’s like I missed the good ending and went to the true ending

anonymous asked:

What if Stiles and Derek's first kiss is post-nogitsune? Would he feel like a thief? Would he mourn the body that Derek never held? Would each brush of fingertips or kiss to his temple be a betrayal? They'd probably talk about the scars too. Derek would understand-- to an extent. But he grew up not without his history on his skin so he'll never understand how it feels to have that ripped away.

Their lips brush and Stiles turns away a second later, breaths shallow, hands twitching against the folds of Derek’s shirt. There’s warm breath on his cheek, the ghost of beard still so close and all Stiles can think is that he wants this. He wants this. And…

It’s wrong.

Those fingers, twitching against Derek’s shirt, smooth and uncalloused. The scar that used to live above his third knuckle just a burn-hot memory in his mind.

Everything still feels off in his body, out of balance, and he remembers the way Derek used to look at him. All tension and frustration in ways he couldn’t start to make sense of. And now Derek’s lips are in reach, a short turn away, and he’s murmuring out “Stiles…?” and all Stiles can think is…

“Do you want me?”

He can feel the stall in Derek’s thoughts like a physical reaction, and he wonders if there was a subtle tell or if… if he’d just felt it, inside, the confusion a flicker of chaos in Derek’s chest. Can he do that? Feel chaos? The Nogitsune drank it in and Stiles…

“Stiles,” Derek breathes again, a quirk of amusement in his tone. Thumbs smooth down his hips and Stiles fights the urge to rise into the contact. “Thought I’d just answered that question.”

And Stiles could leave it at that, asked and answered. Except…

There should be a scar on his hip, long and thin, from a fence he’d scaled once and dropped down five times faster. Derek should be feeling that right now, that piece of Stiles’ history, that stupid ten year old adventure laid out across his skin. But the skin’s smooth. Blank slate.

He shivers, gripping tighter into Derek’s shirt.

“No, I––” He can’t think of how to explain it. The thoughts are a choked feeling in his throat, a twist in his gut. Something like guilt and fear and he doesn’t even know what answer he wants when he leans back enough to find Derek’s eyes and say: “Since when? Did you… I mean, before…”

He’s not sure Derek knows what he means, but there’s a hint of flush under that dark beard suddenly, and Stiles gets a little bit lost in the contrast.

“Last summer.”

“Last––?” It pulls Stiles back, his eyes startling up. That was… most of a year, that was before…

A sick lurch sets him falling back out of Derek’s grip. Too-smooth fingers (uncalloused) slip too easy from Derek’s chest. His sneaker-covered feet might as well be walking over glass and he’s being dramatic except that he’s really not. Because if Derek wanted him last summer…

“That wasn’t me.” It sounds wrong as he says it, stupid, because… he was there that summer. He remembers every moment spent with Derek, researching the Alphas, searching for hints of Boyd and Erica. Charged smirks and snark and quiet moments that felt more comfortable than they should. He remembers the moments before summer too, when the thought of Derek made his heart pound and his body thrum in a way that could have only meant fear, except it hadn’t only been fear. He’d been scared of the Alpha too, and the hunters, and that coil of electric heat only sparked through his gut for Derek. He remembers that, like he remembers the scars that aren’t there anymore, and he can’t help running his too-soft fingertips over the smooth flesh of his knuckle as he breathes out, faint and lost, “…Was that me?”

There’s a too long pause while the question burns back into his throat, buzzing through his limbs like a current until he realizes he’s shaking from them. Was that him? Helping Derek track the Alpha pack? Helping Scott learn to control his wolf? Sitting by his mom’s hospital bed, watching her lose the long war to her illness, pieces of her flaking away like old scars, like a whole identity, like––

A warm hand closes over his, large and gentle, grounding.

“It was you,” Derek says, simply. Like there’s no question, like nothing’s changed. Like Stiles hasn’t changed. 

But that’s wrong. He’s not the same person he was before the Nogitsune, and he’s not talking in the experiences change you, huh kind of way. He’d had scars before. He’d had… a whole life written on his skin. And then he’d crawled out from inside his possessed body’s throat, spawned out like some alien parasite or… clone and––

“My body died, back there.” Four months past, and he still can’t wrap his head around it. That he’d watched himself bitten and impaled, spasm and cracking and shatter to dust.

The scarred body. His real body.

And he was left in… this.

Long fingers uncurl, stretching out slow. Thin, pale digits fitting strangely perfect between Derek’s, and Stiles can only wonder what it would have looked like before.

“…What if I’m not real?” He watches Derek’s fingers twitch, barely perceptible, tightening like they’re fighting to hold onto him. And Derek’s lost enough in his life, too much. It’s a dick move to say this, to take anything else away from him, but… “What if the guy you wanted last summer… what if he died inside the Nogitsune, and I’m just––”

No.”

The sureness of it has Stiles’ throat clenching. He tilts his head, challenging. Finds Derek’s eyes again.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Which is just… it’s stupid how that makes Stiles’ heart jump. Flutter around like it’s fighting to leap the distance between them and plaster itself all up against Derek’s stupid, muscled, secretly sweet as hell chest.

Which… yeah, that’s nearly a gross enough visual to stomp his fondness boner in the bud. He sets his jaw.

“Did you know I used to have a scar on––”

“Your right hand? Just above the third knuckle, a burn.”

Stiles’ argument stalls out. He blinks, finger shifting to rub over the space, but Derek’s is already there, soothing the phantom mark over his skin.

“I… was eleven.” Because silence has never been safe for him. Because noise distracts from the too-easy pleasure rippling up his arm. “First time I tried cooking dinner for me and dad. Mac and cheese, it… didn’t go great.” He wets his lips. Looks away “Or… the other me did, I don’t––”

You did.” And Derek still sounds so damn sure. Stiles wants to believe him. He parts his lips, can’t. Because––

“Stiles, I’ve never had scars on my skin. I… can’t relate to what it’s like to lose them. But the things that have happened to me… they’re not any less real because I can’t see them. Every bullet, cut, punch I’ve taken…” He might sense the wince forming on Stiles’ face, and shakes his head, shrugging that off like it’s not important. But that’s an argument for another day. “Every scar life gave you… they’re still there. You’re still carrying them, inside you.” He flits his eyes down Stiles’ frame, then away, finger soothing over the ghost burn. “There are plenty no one would have ever seen anyway. But they made you. Who you are, and who you are…” He shakes his head, looks back to meet Stiles’ eyes squarely. “You recognized me when I was a teenager. That’s the same person who recognized me in the preserve.” Stiles feels his face heat because… even knowing Derek’s a werewolf now, he’d never put together that Derek would have heard his fangirl moment to Scott after Derek had walked away.

Before he can speak up, though, Derek’s going on. “You tracked me to Mexico. Faced down the Calaveras to save me. That’s the same person who stared down the Argents, drove a Jeep into a kanima, who hit an Alpha with a wooden baseball bat––”

“Two Alphas,” Stiles cuts in, because props, ok? “Two, that were…” His free hand mimes squishing, and Derek’s lips twitch.

“Two,” he agrees, and Stiles can’t not smile back. Just for a second –– fond, helpless –– then he’s ducking his head. Derek sighs, catches his chin. Guides it up until their gazes lock again.

“That was you,” he says, so firmly Stiles can’t help believing this time. “Was the man who clawed his way out of his own possession. Followed Scott’s howl back to the real world. And whatever happened to your body, whatever… magic gave you a new one, Stiles came out with it. Your scars are still there, just…” His fingers trail to Stiles’ chest, and something thumps out eagerly to meet them.

“Inside,” Stiles breathes, and the way Derek’s eyes warm makes him shiver with a proud ripple of pleasure.

“Inside,” Derek echoes. Runs a thumb light along Stiles’ lip. “You could have come out of the Nogitsune looking like anything. Wouldn’t change who you are.”

And damn, Stiles has fallen for a goddamn poet in a grumpy wolf’s body. …But then, Stiles is pretty sure he’d known that already.

His fingers go up, curl gently into Derek’s shirt.

“But… you like this body,” he prompts, and Derek gives an exasperated huff, pulling him in.

“I like this body,” he confirms, and it doesn’t feel wrong to hear that.

When Derek kisses him this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away.

BRACELET

Imagine starts at 55 seconds.

And thank you so much for 1000+ notes!


“You guys having fun?”

The thousands of cheers from around the sold out stadium echoes through the cool night, every single one directed towards Justin. It’s kind of crazy to think about it - that people literally spend hundreds of dollars just to see him from what probably is a shitty seat at the back of an arena, but at the same time its flattering, and by now I bet his rather used to it.

“I don’t know if you guys heard me, Are you guys having fun tonight?!” He repeats into the mic, fiddling with the gold chain bracelet around his hand.

Once again the stadium filled with screams and cheers from the beliebers, this time twice as loud. I watch as Justin let his eyes drift over to the side of the arena, and decides to yell “Top row, you guys having up there?!” And they continue to cheer.

Then the other side, “What about this side, you guys having fun up there?!”

A small smile fell onto his face as he leans back and removes the gum from his mouth muttering, “Alright, as long as were having fun. Just livin’ the moment.”

Then continues to move forward and lightly strum the first notes to Cold Water. A second later his hand moves back to his mouth, placing the gum he removed earlier back inside. I can’t help but roll my eyes at my boyfriends indecisiveness. Once more he continues to strum the guitar before for the third time, removing his hand and looking down onto the chain.

“This damn bracelet is annoying.”

Suddenly moving his wrist towards the guitar and using his bracelet to tap the strings while saying, “You see all this noise, I don’t like that noise. It sounds wrong. I’m not diggin’ it.”

I can’t help but smile. Its so cute when he just speaks his mind, and I can tell the crowd feels the same since I do notice a few people chuckling up the front.

Turning towards the wings of the stage, where Scooter, I and the backstage crew are all standing, he jokingly adds, “See Y/N this is your fault - Giving me this bracelet.”

After fumbling around with it for a while trying to remove it, he grumbles “Stupid bitch.” Under his breath, causing not only me but the crowd to laugh. “One second guys.” He announces.

While still attempting to take off the bracelet I bought him for our 3 year anniversary, he decides to make a witty joke, beginning it with, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

The crowd actually responded with a whole lot of “Why’s?” And justin immediately respondes with “He wanted to get to the other side.”

A small smile cracks his lips as the crowd chuckles at his terrible joke and even chose to acknowledge how dumb it was by adding, “That was stupid.” then adds “but it was funny.”

Finally giving up, his head shoots up to look around the crowd asking “Does someone wanna come help me get this off my wrist?”

Girls from the crowd shoot up and cheer immediately with there hands in the air. As for Justin who is still sitting and waiting for someone come to his rescue. Scooter waists no time in suddenly beginning to push on my back, motioning me forward.

“What?”

“Go help him.” He demands with a smirk.

“What?!” My eyes trail down my body, instinctively cringing at my purpose sweatpants and staff hoodie I chose to wear. I looked terrible. “Nah-ah. No way.”

“Who cares about what your wearing, go help him!” He chuckles.

“I care! Plus I don’t wanna just walk out on stage! That’s scary.” I pout but scooter shows no remorse.

“Just go!” He puts his arms on my shoulders and pushes me out onto the stage. This time, I can’t turn back because by the way every one in the crowd has heightened there screams, they’ve definitely seen me.

I sigh and mentally note ‘there no turning back now’ before jogging forward over to the seat Justin was seated on by the edge. Justin’s eyes trail around the stage, looking for the reason the screams in the crowd have increased, and once seeing me making my way over, smiles and extends a hand for me to grab.

I don’t hesitate to reach for his gesture and quickly dash over to remove this bracelet as fast as I can so I can get off the stage as soon as possible. At first, Justin is no help at all. Instead, he begins rubbing my arm and trying to get me to sit and stay next to him. “Justin, stop fidgeting.” I laugh.

Justin shrugs his shoulders as if not having any idea what I was talking about before settling and begins cooperating with the process. This bracelet is so damn stubborn! But after some pull and tug, Justin says, “Pull it from this side.”

“Yeah, and you unclip it from over there.”

The crowd aw’s in affection at our teamwork.

As we work together and finally get the bracelet removed, I jump up in achievement and grab a hold of the bracelet myself. As I’m about to make my way back off stage, Justin grabs my arm and pulls me back pouting. “Stay.”

I chuckle nervously and take a glance at the screaming crowd in anticipation, finally turning back to Justin to shake my head.

“Oh c'mon!” He encourages, grabbing my hip and pulling me towards him. I fall onto the seat beside him, my back pressed against his side while his arm rest around my waist. “Have a little fun. I’ll sing you a nice sooong.” He coo’s as if I was a child. “give you a little kiiiss. We can cuddllle.”

“Shut up.” I chuckle to which Justin smiles.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Meanwhile, the crowd has hit the fan, their cheers going wild in a frenzy of excitement. Justin places his arm around my shoulders while using his hand to hold the right notes on the guitar neck. His other hand strumming lightly at the body.

After commenting about how terribly the guitar is tuned, he finally begins singing Cold water in a soft, melodic tone.

“Everybody gets high sometimes you know…What else can we do when were feelin’ low? - C'mon sing it with me baby!”

I chuckle at his enthusiasm and decide to not ruin the song and just keep my mouth shut, but frozen with a smile.

“So I wanna lay with you told I’m old!” He sang, causing my to furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“Baby you sang it wrong.” I whispered into his side.

Still strumming the guitar, he looks over at me “Really? I did? Well then how does it go?”

“It goes, ’What else can we do when were feelin’ low? So take a deep breath and let it go -…” I quickly sing as Justin smirks.

I hadn’t realised that justin had actually moved the mic towards me, causing my voice to echo throughout the entire arena, the crowd cheering like crazy in the background while Justin smirked menacingly.

“Hey!” I pouted. “You stuffed the lyrics on purpose!”

“How’d you know?” He chuckled sarcastically. “Well, since you started it you gotta finish. C'mon baby lets go!”

so you’re taking a philosophy class... now what?

Philosophy is intimidating. You probably think of Pluto and Socrates, and while they are a part of philosophy, there is so much more to it. The subject is foreign and hard for many, but once you get the hang of it, it can easily become one of your favorite classes. Here’s some tips to make these classes a bit easier:

What the flippidy-doo-da even is philosophy???

Philosophy is the study of why. Ethics, morality, reasoning, all fall under philosophy. There’s a bunch of sub-topics in philosophy, like hedonism (what determines what is good for us?), relativism (why do we have different morals from someone else?), morality (what is the difference between right and wrong?), and more!

What makes a philosophy class different from any other class?

In philosophy there is no right or wrong answer. Everything is relative, subjective, and opinionated. The answer is never “yes” or “no”. Philosophy is essentially a lot of questions, but not many answers.

What can I expect in a philosophy class?

Socratic. Seminars. They are everywhere in philosophy classes. These are very similar to debates in the sense that its a group/the whole class talking about a subject, but you’re not trying to persuade anyone or change anyone’s mind, you’re simply talking about it. In college, philosophy classes tend to be smaller (under 40 people) for this reason. But don’t let the idea of a Socratic seminar scare you away from taking a philosophy class. They aren’t that bad. Why? Because there is no right or wrong answer. You don’t have to worry about saying something wrong or sounding stupid because literally you can’t say anything wrong. And if the idea of talking to other stresses you out, just remember that your fellow class mates are in the same exact position as you are. 

What can I do to *succeed* in a philosophy class?

Know your argument. Typically in philosophy there are three “arguments” (similar to a debate…ish). The for, the against, and the somewhere in the middle. On all of my philosophy tests, all of the questions are the same. exact. thing. Here’s an example from my last philosophy exam:

What is Hedonism?

What is an argument for Hedonism?

What is an argument against Hedonism?

What is your opinion on Hedonism?

You need to know of both sides of an argument, but other than that, there’s no memorization. It’s all explaining and why. You’ll learn very quickly how do BS a paragraph.

Also, Crash Course - Philosophy will become your best friend in the world.

Types of people who would especially love philosophy classes:

- Like writing, debates, and is opinionated

- ENTJ, ESTP, ISFP, ENTP, INFJ, INTP

- Aquarius, Leo, Gemini, Sagittarius, Pisces


@samsstudygram , The So You’re Taking Series - Philosophy