Thank you all so much for reading Check, Please and following this story throughout the years. Thank you for connecting with the characters and believing in the world that I cobbled together. I’m forever thankful that you guys care about Bitty, Jack, Samwell hockey, pies, dibs, the Haus, and all of the crazy things this comic encompasses. You’re all fantastic.
It may be irrational but pi plays an important role in the everyday work of scientists at NASA.
What Is Pi ?
Pi is the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter. It is also an irrational number, meaning its decimal representation never ends and it never repeats. Pi has been calculated to more than one trillion digits,
Why March 14?
March 14 marks the yearly celebration of the mathematical constant pi.
More than just a number for mathematicians, pi has all sorts of
applications in the real world, including on our missions. And as a holiday that encourages more
than a little creativity – whether it’s making pi-themed pies or
reciting from memory as many of the never-ending decimals of pi as
possible (the record is 70,030 digits).
While 3.14 is often a precise enough approximation,
hence the celebration occurring on March 14, or 3/14 (when written in standard U.S. month/day format), the first known celebration occurred in 1988, and in
2009, the U.S. House of Representatives passed a resolution designating
March 14 as Pi Day and encouraging teachers and students to celebrate
the day with activities that teach students about pi.
5 Ways We Use Pi at NASA
Below are some ways scientists and engineers used pi.
Keeping Spacecraft Chugging Along
Propulsion engineers use pi to determine the volume and surface area of propellant tanks. It’s how they size tanks and determine liquid propellant volume to keep spacecraft going and making new discoveries.
Getting New Perspectives on Saturn
A technique called pi transfer uses the gravity of Titan’s moon, Titan, to alter the orbit of the Cassini spacecraft so it can obtain different perspectives of the ringed planet.
Learning the Composition of Asteroids
Using pi and the asteroid’s mass, scientists can calculate the density of an asteroid and learn what it’s made of–ice, iron, rock, etc.
knowing the circumference, diameter and surface area of a crater can tell scientists a lot about the asteroid or meteor that may have carved it out.
Determining the Size of Exoplanets
Exoplanets are planets that orbit suns other than our own and scientists use pi to search for them. The first step is determining how much the light curve of a planet’s sun dims when a suspected planets passes in front of it.
Things I have learned by joining the local Methodist Church’s coffee & knitting circle (where I am the only person under 60 years old):
How to double knit very, very quickly
Mrs. Jonson on the third pew won’t mind her own business, bless her heart. And she buys her pies pre-made for all the church functions.
Ways that women cheated the system in 1950s Texas to get into college and start careers. Including a memorable “He told me I wouldn’t last a week, but then 6 years later, I had to let him go because his production was way down.” *drinks sip of coffee*
We Might Be Conservative But Gosh Darn That Trump Bless His Heart He Doesn’t Know Anything About God Or Texas
And On That Note, God And Texas Are The Only Good Things Left In The World. Erin Write That Down.
How to rescue a dropped stitch and make it look like it never happened
Public schools and inclusive, desegregated education will single-handedly save the world
Sharing recipes is a sacred bonding and community-building tradition that rivals the greatest political negotiations and land deals in history
“It’s better that you prefer girls honey, the Boyfriend Curse doesn’t apply to your girlfriend and a lovin’ god’ll keep on a-lovin. You better make that girl a sweater.’”
(Boyfriend Curse = knit a sweater for a boy and he’ll leave you when you finish it)
Mrs. Barbara’s husband cheated in ‘76, resulting in a divorce. She thought it was the end of the world because her youth had already passed, but now she’s an engineer and married to a kind, good man who she met when she went back to college in ‘79.
“The only things you can trust in are God, your good sense, and the wisdom of those older women you grew up admiring. The rest is crap.”
When I moved in, he insisted on funding all of my research. Except, you know, ever since The Incident, all my work's been theoretical. It's not actually that expensive. I've started just spending all the extra on fruit pies, just to see if he was keeping track. He isn't. There are a lot of unused rooms in this building, and at least three of them are stacked floor to ceiling with fruit pies. He hasn't said a word.
It turned out Pepper and I both speak French. Tony doesn't. Now, whenever he walks in, we just start whispering in French and giggling. Half the time we're just exchanging recipes. He pretends not to be eavesdropping, but the other day I caught him asking JARVIS what 'des oeufs' meant.
I bought this big bag of little plastic flies, right? And whenever he's not paying attention, I throw them into his drink. Half the time he doesn't even notice and just drinks the damn things, but the other half? He starts checking all the house filtration systems, the exterminators, the works. He can't figure out where all these flies are coming from. He's fumigated three times in the last month.
I attempted to provide assistance with a project, but Stark assured me that it was 'very technical', and that I would not understand the intricacies. I can see why he would think so, as I am a mere Prince of Asgard, taught such basic engineering when I was a child and his ancestors could not yet walk. It has been five weeks, and he still has not corrected the misaligned condenser coil causing the problem.
I don't know what Howard taught that kid, but he seems to be under the impression that homosexuality was invented in 2000. He keeps leaving magazines and pictures lying around like the sight of two men holding hands is going to give me a heart attack. I don't have the heart to tell him about the Greeks.
So how are things in Avengers Tower?
How are things? I have no idea. I really don't. There's some kind of insect infestation in the vents and I think a spy is trying to seduce my girlfriend into moving to France. I tried to prank Captain America with gay porn, but him and Thor just started trying to reverse-engineer workout routines. The other day I went into one of the spare rooms, and I found some kind of one-armed sex hobo sitting on a throne of empty fruit pie boxes. I just walked out and closed the door. I don't even wanna know.
Hello, my friends! 2016 is finally dead and gee whiz, am I happy about that! It’s been a difficult year of transition and change for everyone worldwide, which is an understatement alone, but I want to thank you all for surviving it with me!
These last four months of creating content (Zoidberg Voice: Hooray! I’m useful!) and interacting with all of you guy’s has really helped and inspired me, especially through my own personal recent struggles, and it means the world to me that we all bring each other so much mutual joy.
In no particular order, I want to send my love to some friends and mutuals I’ve made! And also blogs I adore, even if we’ve never spoken. You are all wonderful and I appreciate what you do!
not to be dramatic but one of the reasons why I love zayn so much (and, I think, one of the reasons why his fans can resonate so deeply with him and have such a strong emotional connection with him) is how unbelievably grounded and calm and relaxed he comes across in print articles, in videos, and in person. like, here’s a guy who, as that es article said, has spent the entire part of his adult life in this intensive bubble kind of thing while he tries to get on with his life and do the things that he loves, and yet he is still just zayn from bradford who’s goddamn proud of making his own pies from scratch and who will offer an interviewer a cigarette and who wanders down the street carrying his skateboard and who unashamedly loves the minions and gets upset about the gummy bears. sure he’s a guy who’s worth like god only knows how many millions and millions who has houses across the world and who’s broken music records and launched a line with versace and all of this stuff, but at the end of it all, he’s just zayn and I need to stop now before I start crying with how much I love this goofy kid wow
Summary: “Harry’s a player. All he does is chat everyone up. And guys like him are just–so ugh. He’s got that arrogant, self-assured smirk plastered to his face all the time. Always smug and stupid, like he could get anyone he lays his eyes on. All he does is make me mad and laugh all the time like he knows something that I don’t. That is so annoying.”
“But that’s just Harry,” Niall shrugged at Louis. “He doesn’t even try to flirt or anything. He’s just naturally charming, but that doesn’t mean he’s a player nor that he’s trying to get into everyone’s pants. He’s just friendly. And he likes you. He doesn’t usually fall for people, but he fell for you.”
“Oh, should I feel special then?” Louis asked, snorting and rolling his eyes.
or Harry’s a frat boy who is head over heels for Louis and Louis wants nothing to do with him.
Summary: American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).
Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.
A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?
Summary: Harry, 20. Less Than 1 Mile Away, Active 1 minute ago. I think when it comes down to it, I’m just looking for someone supportive. That’s all I really need in life. I know this is an app, but we can find people in all the most obscure places ☺ -H.S
or hot, hipster Harry from Tinder is nothing like Louis expected.
Summary: It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.
Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.
Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.
He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.
Summary: Few can handle Louis Tomlinson on the dance floor, much less match him in skill and fervor. Louis has obviously met his soul mate; he just never expected him to be wearing a red snapback and to chew gum like an entitled Mercedes owner.
Summary: There’s a boy right in the middle of the crowd and he’s dancing, head thrown back with laughter. When he finally straightens back up, his fringe falls right into his eyes and his slender body is pressed up against others in the crowd. When he moves, it’s more graceful than anything Harry has ever witnessed in his entire life.
Around him are nearly a dozen other guys and they all look like they want to ravage him. Harry doesn’t really blame them.
When the boy turns slightly, his dark blue eyes meet Harry’s and his mouth pulls up in the corner, twisting into an inviting smirk.
Harry is just an average twenty year old frat boy and he meets eighteen year old Louis at a party. It ends with Louis fucking him while wearing his snapback and that’s something that Harry can definitely get behind.
Summary: “I hate frats,” Louis repeats for what feels like the millionth time.
“Yes, I’ve heard, once or twice or every day for the past three years,” Liam says. His careful tone reminds Louis of how his mom always sounds when one of his siblings is on the brink of a tantrum.
Louis glances speculatively at Liam’s frat brothers, who are still huddled together and chatting, with the exception of the one who’s looking in Louis’ direction. Maybe Louis shouldn’t rule out a tantrum. While making a scene wouldn’t actually free him from fraternity nonsense in the future, it would at least be entertaining.
AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.
In a world where every dating site swears by their algorithms and databases to find the most accurate match with a high percentage of compatibility, a new site is giving them all a run for their money. Missmatched.com promises no data or algorithm, just a few people that *know* how to find your best match based on their instincts and their vibes.
Emma Swan is hired to investigate if there’s a fraud involved with the site’s claim of not using any type of statistics. That path leads her right into the hands of Missmatched.com founder, Killian Jones, who promises her that he’ll prove he’s worth his salt by finding Emma her perfect match without any data or algorithms involved.
Sometimes she hated her job. Maybe hate was a strong word, but somedays, Emma Swan wished that she would have picked something else. Something simple, easy, boring. Ordinary. Something that was the embodiment of everything she lacked while growing up. Like an actuary, or a financial clerk, or even a data processor.
But no, she had to live on the edge and choose to be a PI, because after a stint with the law and coming out of it almost unscathed, risk was the way to go. After all, the only one who showed any interest Emma’s life had been the bounty hunter who had tracked her down two states. Following in her footsteps and choosing a life with a certain amount of danger seemed like a natural choice. Which wasn’t a bad thing, per se. No one was waiting at home with baited breath for her to come back.
Dean and Cas might rather forget the traumatic events that brought them into the public eye, but with the help of their friends and family they’ve turned a terrifying experience into a resource of hope and help to others. In the process, they’ve attracted a little bit of attention from an ambitious TV producer who, after discovering Dean’s fear of flying and the fact that Dean and Cas are planning their upcoming wedding, thinks the best present for Dean, Cas, and all of their friends is to send them on a truly incredible honeymoon. Oh, and a lot of airplanes.
By some miracle, Dean Winchester has been selected for the latest season of Project Runway. Now, he just has to prove that being a mechanic/self-taught designer from Kansas doesn’t mean he has no talent or taste. Oh, and he has to tolerate the presence of the stuck-up Castiel Novak. Not to mention the loads of drama he must deal with. Can he survive the show, and, against all odds, win?
“Hi, and welcome to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy: celebrity edition. Where instead of the Fab Five, who are all experts in their fields, you have me, Dean Winchester, a bisexual hockey player who is slightly above average at these things.” “Today’s victim is Castiel Novak: world renowned entymologist specializing in honey bees. His latest research publication is receiving all kinds of awards so he’s going to have a little celebration tonight. That’s where I’m here to help.”
In which Supernatural is a reality show, Dean Winchester is a closeted reality star hounded by tabloids, and the author gets a little meta. Or: The one where Dean starts to suspect he’s a terrible boyfriend, and Cas disagrees.
II. fics from our Pretend Boyfriends tag with fake performance vibe that is so popular with reality TV fics
1. The impostor syndrome is real (google it!) and can be quite crippling if you allow it to be. My first year in graduate school was rough. I was a bio major that took a handful of psych courses (and surprisingly, no neurobiology courses). This means that when I started the neuroscience intro course at NYU I was fascinated but clueless, which was evident in my first neuro grade. All of this resulted in me feeling like I wasn’t “good enough” to be studying neuroscience at NYU and that somehow they/I had made a mistake. Luckily, many of my friends were quick to point out that I was being ridiculous and laughed it off. That, coupled with the Dean’s support, made me snap out of my doubt and insecurity and take on a more proactive approach towards my education. This included tutoring, but hey, it worked! 1 year later I was cracking jokes with the Dean about my first year freak-outs LOL.
2. You do not need to know everything. As a graduate student, whose job is to be trained as a scientist, you are expected to do not only a lot of reading, but also a lot of learning. During my first two years, I took all sorts of neuroscience courses and remember wondering how I was going to remember it all. Newsflash: you don’t. Your learning experience is not confined to those two years of formal coursework- it stretches throughout your entire PhD and continues even beyond that. In my experience, I found that many of the concepts that I had trouble understanding re-appeared throughout my PhD. Sometimes through talks, other times through journal clubs, and other times by doing literature searches. A beautiful thing about science and learning is that all the knowledge builds on top of each other, and even though it may not seem like it to you, you are retaining this information. Also, important information will likely be repeated throughout your PhD, thereby facilitating your retention of the material. Just remember, you are being trained on how to think, and you will learn many things along the way.
3. Be thankful of constructive criticism and use it as an opportunity to grow. This one was hard. Receiving feedback (especially criticism) is difficult in general, but I find that it’s even harder when you’re in academia. I mean, you become invested in a project and/or research topic, and sometimes you’re wrong or don’t know what to do with a certain piece of data. Or you need an extra control. Or somebody doesn’t understand the clinical relevance of your project. Or like me, you have a thesis project that integrates multiple disciplines and is hard to think about because the findings are counterintuitive. Bottom line is: at some point you will receive criticism that either A) you haven’t thought about B) you don’t agree with or C) you don’t understand. One of the many things that my PhD mentor taught me is to be grateful when somebody outside the lab (or your field) makes a constructive comment about your work. As she put it, this is indicative that they are thinking critically about your project, which they do NOT have to do. Lesson learned: when someone gives you constructive criticism, listen, and kindly thank them for their feedback because they are helping you think about your work in a different way.
4. Build and maintain a network. Talk to people!This includes graduate students, postdocs, professors, collaborators, bloggers and many other people you meet at conferences, etc… I know, small talk is sometimes awkward and uncomfortable, but be thankful that you all have a common denominator: an interest and passion for science! Use that to your advantage. Networking is essential for a number of reasons. First, it’s a great way to meet other academics that you have things in common with and may even result in collaboration. Second, you can use their experiences and advice to help your own academic training and development. Third, if you maintain that network, you get to see what kinds of things they go on to do. For me, this is incredibly inspiring and helps to keep me motivated despite whatever I may hear about the pains and perils of science.
5. Patience is a virtue and good things come to those who wait. In science, things usually take longer that you think they will. While this may not be a surprise to fellow PhDs and other scientists, a lot of incoming graduate students don’t realize this and end up feeling disappointed when they don’t get that grant they applied for on the first round, their data is not ready for publication and/or their paper gets rejected multiple times (thus lengthening the time it takes to publish). Therefore, think of your PhD as a marathon, not a sprint.
6. Write your papers as your experiments go along. Once you have a hypothesis and a preliminary approach, start drafting the paper. I know, it sounds crazy given that you don’t have any data yet, but it will help you have a clear rationale and organize the methods. For example, start off with a preliminary title and abstract, make a bullet list of points you want to cover in the introduction, insert the methods section and make a list of preliminary results (and how you would interpret them). This will help you start thinking about what your story could be and what it would look like. Also start building an EndNote library containing the references you know you already need or think might need.
7. Make it a habit to read regularly. You’d be surprised at how easy (and fun) it can be. Follow neuroscience blogs, twitter accounts, attend a journal club, create a Scizzle, use Google scholar, friend people on ResearchGate, etc… Do whatever works, but try to read new papers every week. You can even have journals that you check every week/every month/etc… I, for example, look at J Neuro and NPP every week, Biological Psychiatry/Nature Neuroscience when there’s a new issue and such.
8. Know your talk well. Once you have your committee’s approval to write/defend, start creating your talk. Normally, this will be a merger of previous committee meeting presentations or any other presentations you have given. Your goal is to tell your PhD story through your data in a clear and concise way. This means that it is up to you to fill in the knowledge gaps, ensure a smooth and logical transition from slide to slide, and connect the dots regarding the meaning of your work for the audience. Needless to say, this is much easier when you know exactly where each slide is and what slide is coming next. As one of my committee members said, this takes the stress out of being “surprised” by your own data and allows you to be more personable, as your personality is more likely to come through.
9. Find a committee that is critical, yet supportive. Keep in mind that your thesis committee holds your fate in their hands. Thus, don’t make this decision lightly! Ideally, you want these people to be “fans”, meaning that they think you are bright, capable and are actually interested in helping you develop as a scientist. Try to schedule individual meetings with potential members BEFORE asking them to be a part of your committee. Tell them about your ideas and potential projects, see how they respond. Are they genuinely interested? Do they have good questions? Do your interests overlap with their research line? Furthermore, ask around! It is likely that someone else in your program (from upper years) has them in their committee. Find this person and ask what they’re like.
10. Strive to become not only a better scientist, but also a better person :) As a former PhD student, I know that it feels like everything revolves around your PI, your project, all the work you have to do, etc… Although I personally believe that in order to do this job you need to lose yourself to it (to a certain extent), this doesn’t mean that you have to let yourself go and be consumed by it. The world is bigger than just academia, and you also need to grow as a person (and not just as a scientist). Find time to cultivate other interests, make new friends, rediscover yourself as you go along the PhD track. Your mental health will thank you for it.
Disclaimer: All PhDs are not created equal. The points made above reflect my own personal PhD experience. I’ve always said that two people can even be in the same lab and same year and still have radically different experiences. Regardless, I hope everyone can find something that is useful to them :)
Imagine your favorite character is out on a leisurely walk. On the way a tiny old house slowly comes into view and just as they were about to walk past the home the door caught their gaze; it hung wide open as if inviting them in. Curiosity got the better of them and they peered in to see a cozy living room full of thick cushioned couches and recliners. Despite the well condition and overall warm atmosphere, the lack of pictures or personal items indicated that no one lived there, or at least not for an extended period of time.
The doorway matched the house in small size making it a tight fit to get in. The little living room lead into a similarly sized dining room, and it seemed the only thing that wasn’t small was the table. They couldn’t believe what met their eyes. Every inch of the table was taken up by multiple large dishes of food. There was roast, turkey, ham, casserole, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing and pies. It was as if all the holiday meals had been combined and set out on a single table. How in the world could someone make that much food and not even be in the house? It couldn’t be for a large family dinner either, there were too few chairs.
They had just walked in on a dream.
It couldn’t hurt to try some. A scoop of mashed potatoes would not be noticed from the hefty bowl they sat in. So they took a plate from the counter -figuring they would just clean it afterwards and put it back- and glanced around for any hint of other people but still found none. With the coast clear they plopped a decent scoopful of potatoes onto their plate, after all there was no such thing as bad mashed potatoes. Even so these managed perfection. The consistency was not too thin or thick, the texture wasn’t too gritty or pasty, and they were far from bland. With mashed potatoes this promising, and the rich sent the other dishes gave off, the whole table was bound to be food heaven.
Oh they really shouldn’t. There was too much work put into this feast to have someone come along uninvited and dig in. No, that was incredibly rude, not to mention it would leave evidence of breaking and entering. Although they didn’t break in; the door wasn’t even closed, much less locked. Honestly who leaves their door hanging wide open and expects everything, especially magnificent food, to be untouched? If not them flies or animals would have gotten into the food and what a shame that would have been.
They took a large portion of everything, their plate barely able to carry it all. Now to see how well their stomach would fare. They sat down in one of the wooden chairs and started with the roast first before alternating with the others. Everything exceed their expectations. Food in such a modest little home was worthy at the dinning table of a royal family.
With food that good they tried to savor it and make it last, but the intense flavors spiked their hunger and they ended up stuffing their face and swallowing barely chewed bites. Their stomach soon filled up, creating strain for their waistband. By the end of the plate their pants dug into their sides as the button struggled to keep fastened. Relenting to their gluttony and comfort they undid the button and zipper, allowing their belly to surge forward.
They should have stopped then but instead they gathered another plateful. Half way done and each bite became more difficult to swallow, but enamored by the taste they forced the rest of it down, rubbing their belly during the last few bites. Their belly bulged out further than they knew it could, having pushed up their shirt during its expansion. It was incredibly taut too; there was no way they could fit anymore food without bursting like a balloon filled with too much air.
They would have remained leaned back in the chair but the recliner in the living room seemed so much more comfortable now with a huge meal weighing them down, so they heaved themself up from the chair and waddled into the living room, taking precautions as to not upset their stomach. They sank into the recliner and leaned back.
They had eaten themself into a food coma, that along with the warmth of the house eased them into sleep. After dozing for a few hours they found their stomach to be much less uncomfortably full, although not without some squishy fat taking the food’s place. At least now they could button their pants, even if their soft flesh protruded over the waistband more than previously.
They should head home, people were probably wondering where they were, and if they hadn’t been found by now they surely would be if they stayed any longer. But just as they were about to leave they caught a glimpse of the dining room. No longer did a feast take up the table, rather breakfast did. No, they really should head home. Though an extended break would be nice, they needed some more time to indulge themself, besides no one left evidence that they were angry about the food being eaten as they had left more out in the open the same way. Not to mention it had been a while since they enjoyed a breakfast worthy of being called breakfast.
They sat themself at the table again with a clean plate. The table was an all day breakfast restaurant, with pancakes, french toast, waffles, bacon, sausages, eggs, hash browns, grits, biscuits, and gravy. Like last time they couldn’t help but have some of everything, piling food onto their plate until it could hold no more. With an empty stomach growling for food they dug in, this time not even trying to savor the flavor. It took less time this go around for their waistband to become unbearable, and they undid their pants with a sigh as their belly fell into their lap, jiggling as it did so. They went for seconds, filling their stomach into throbbing tightness. Once more they leaned back and massaged their engorged gut.
The recliner was put into use for another time and they quickly fell asleep under the aid of a stomach filled to the brim with warm food. They woke, vaguely aware that their situation wasn’t a dream as they sat leaned back in the recliner. They were in the same cozy little house with extra pudge around their torso. This time fastening their pants their belly spilled over the waistband and peeked out from a tight shirt. If they weren’t chubby before they certainly were now.
Being constantly full of food and sleeping was such a relieving change of pace from the normal day to day routine. Their worries had been sent off and replaced with an abundance of food, what could be better?
Like they expected the table was stacked with mass amounts of food, different from the last time, but no less appetizing. They sat down in their usual chair, but as their abdomen compressed and their belly was forced outwards their pants gave in and the button snapped off, letting their soft gut loose to flood forwards. They didn’t give it much thought other than reckoning that buttoning their pants would be one less thing to worry about.
They piled a portion of everything onto their plate and quickly downed it, finding it didn’t fill them up as much as a whole plateful would normally. After stuffing themself repetitively their stomach must have expanded and was now expecting and craving that same amount of food. A second plate gone and their belly was well rounded, bloated with food and padded with fat, yet as full as it was, it wasn’t uncomfortably full; they could manage to gorge themself on one more plates worth. Gorge themself they did. They groaned and rubbed their belly as they forced down the last bits from the third plate. Somehow even just a spoonful was too much. Their skin was stretched and pulled tight over their stomach; it was a wonder they didn’t rupture.
They struggled to get up from the chair without puking and placed a hand underneath their distended belly as they slowly made their way to the recliner. Their stomach ached terribly but they were soon taken over by a food coma and slept it off. The ache they slept off but definitely not the weight. They woke up to love handles spilling over their waistband and a large soft belly having cascaded into and overtaken their lap, their belly button long gone. Even permanently unbuttoned their pants antagonized them, suffocating their thighs like sausages despite being ripped at the seams. Their shirt could now only serve as a crop top, a skin tight crop top at that.
Perhaps they should head home before they ended up completely indecent. But upon reaching the exit they found that their abdomen had grown wider than the doorway. It had been a tight fit in. It seemed there was no way out, as there was no back door and windows were out of the question.
Being stuck there wasn’t too bad though, far from bad really. Unlimited food, no responsibilities, invite a few friends over and it would be a utopia. A utopia where everyone would be fat and happy.
Imagine: Peter can’t stop flirting with you, in front of Hook.
Warning: extreme leaves of sass
“Well, thank you?”
“Can I keep you?
“N-no!” You had only been on Neverland for five minutes and Peter has already managed to make you feel small and strange. Not that it took much, it was easy for others to make you feel insecure and when you did you became defensive and sassy. Most girls would think it was a cute attempt at flirting but you knew better. You knew no one would ever think that you were attractive. Although you looked confident your Captain could see your change in mood and stepped in.
“Pan, my crew and I are done here we just need permission off the island.” You smile glad that Hook diverted Peter’s attention away from you.
“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”
“Cute, but no.” you couldn’t help the words that flowed from your mouth. For a second you were afraid Peter would get mad at you. Or at least until you saw him smile.
“Fuck me if I’m wrong, but do you want to kiss me?” You could hear Killian beside you groan, probably feeling extremely awkward and just wanting to leave. For a second you panicked you couldn’t say yes or no. But what else was there to say, unless.
“Maybe, I always keep my options open.”
“There is definitely something wrong with my bed.” You look between Peter and Killian trying to understand what is even going on. Peter is smirking waiting for a response, and Hook is rubbing his eyes with his hand clearly annoyed.
“Are you seriously just going to stand there until I ask what it is?” He continued staring at you.
“Just get it over with, I want to get out of here,” Killian has lost his patients with Peter and hopefully not you.
“Fine, what is wrong with your bed?”
“You’re not in it.”
“You are impossible Peter.”
“Did you buy your pants on sale because at my house they would be 100% off.” Okay now he has gone beyond making you uncomfortable. You were getting mad.
“Screw you, Peter.”
“That is a terrible idea, let’s do it.” All of your brilliant comebacks flew out the window.
“Why? I am sure I could make you very happy.” That stupid smug smirk. It’s infuriating.
“How, are you leaving?” There was that comeback. Where the heck did it go a second ago.
“You won’t get rid of me that easy.”
“You must be the Pied Piper then.”
“Why is that, love?”
“Because you are a massive douchebag and I want to punch you in the face.” Not as clever as you could have been but still it got your point across.
“What is it like to be the most beautiful girl in the world?”
“What is it like being the biggest liar in the world?” He could at least try to be believable.
“Stop being shy go on and ask me out. You know you want to.”
“Okay. Go out.”
“Ouch that hurts.
“I hope it hurt as much as when you crawled out of hell, bloody demon.” He paused and simply looked at your face. You would think he was thinking of a comeback except he seemed to be studying you. When he looked back into your eyes you were certain he had you memorized.
“You are perfect. Where have you been all my life?”
“Hiding from you.” you smirk hoping you won this stupid little argument. But Peter continues to act as cocky as ever.
“What are you doing this Friday night?” You pause taken aback by the fact that he is actually asking you out. For a split second you almost consider his offer before you come up with a brilliant comeback.
“Not you.” Simple sweet and ego destroying. “Are you two done? I honestly want to go home now, so can we just leave?” Hook tapped his foot in annoyance.
Introverted Feeling (Fi): Pi has a strong moral code that serves as a basis for many of his decisions and ultimately cannot be broken through logical reasoning or pragmatism. Pi’s natural ability to see into others’ emotions and place himself in their shoes makes him unable to kill the tiger (Richard Parker) and causes him sorry once he looks into the eyes of the first fish he kills.
Extraverted Intuition (Ne): Young Pi easily accepts and absorbs any new teaching he can find, resulting in him becoming Hindu, Muslim, and Catholic even into his older life, because to him having multiple seemingly contradictory beliefs don’t impede upon one another or overwhelm him, but instead enhance his understanding of the world. He is very spiritual, believing that God is watching over him at all times, such as believing Vishnu came in the form of a fish to save him and Richard Parker. Pi is also able to make creative use of any unsavory situation he finds himself in–changing his name to Pi by remembering every number in pi, utilizing the resources he has on the boat, and translating him and his loved ones in a symbolic story in which he is the tiger and his mother is the orangutan, so the disbelieving reporters will leave him alone.
Introverted Sensing (Si): Pi tells the writer that he can choose to believe what is true and what’s not, because all that matters is that Pi remember every event happening the way he tells it. When the two reporters visit him in the hospital and call out logical inconsistencies within his story (“bananas don’t float”) Pi refuses to change or alter any detail because that’s simply how he remembers the events.
Extraverted Thinking (Te): Pi shows himself capable of taking charge once he begins to work with Richard Parker, first attempting to show dominance then trying to train him, understanding that they need to work together to survive. He almost immediately begins utilizing resources for his survival (i.e. building a raft). His father tries to show Pi the “way of the world” to stop Pi from treating animals like humans by forcing him to watch Richard Parker mauling a goat; Pi still chooses to follow his Fi values that animals have souls and should be treated as they do throughout his entire journey and subsequent adult life.
ALRIGHT, so I’ve been meaning to write this one for a while but I have accepted that it not going to happen in full-fic format. So, here, the old “this isn’t a fic but oh wait it’s turned into a bit of a fic” format (a petals classic):
So, the key of a CP HP AU is that, in general, you have to get everyone in the same House because that’s how the quidditch teams work. And a quick glance (I haven’t read them bc I try not to read aus im going to write for fear of transference) tells me that others have done Hufflepuff and Gryffindor but if you know anything about me, you know there is nothing I love more than dismantling the last vestiges of anti-Slytherin prejudice that still lingers in everyone’s subconscious. (*cough* Untamed *cough*)
Basically, I’m going to put everyone into Slytherin. Cuz I can. So here you go, you have:
Jack Zimmermann, son of Bad Bob Zimmermann, a quidditch legend. He played Beater for the Montrose Magpies and is known for creating and coining the term “Scoring Beater” due to his skill at using his beater’s bat not only to control the bludger, but to hit the quaffle through the posts at incredible distances. It starts out as a trick play but turned into a legitimate scoring strategy. Most importantly for our story, Bob Zimmermann was the Captain of the team for his final two years of Hogwarts, won the House Cup for 4/6 years he was on the team, and is generally regarded as one of the finest flyers ever to come out of Gryfindor.
Yes, Gryffindor. Bad Bob Zimmermann was a Gryffindor. In fact, all of the Zimmermanns in the history of Magic have been Gryffindors.
Until Jack Zimmermann. Already dealing with the pressure of dominating in quidditch little leagues, Jack Zimmermann came to Hogwarts and then in a moment that didn’t quite seem real, the Sorting Hat was put onto his head and screamed SLYTHERIN before it had even finished it’s downward descent. The Gryffinders started clapping before they realized what had happened. The Slytherins didn’t start clapping because they assumed there was some mistake. Some claimed that the Hat must just be a bit tired (it was the end of the alphabet after all) and it made a mistake. It is said that this might be the only time Headmaster McGonagall broke her calm exterior during a Sorting Ceremony and tried to put the hat back on a student’s head.
But, eventually (when the Hat just turned and huffed at McGonagall and the Slytherins finally started cheering), there was nothing left for Jack Zimmermann to do but walk over to the Slytherin side of the Great Hall and plop next to B. Knight, already wondering how on earth he was going to explain this to his parents. Even his mother, who was a Muggle, knew enough about Hogwarts to know that Slytherins were the worst.
Of course, in the weeks/months/years that follow, Jack Zimmermann realizes that he is, in fact, a Slytherin. Goal-oriented? Ambitious? He is all of those things. And, actually, he is a lot of things from the other Houses as well because, really, what person can be reduced to just three or four traits and isn’t it a bit ridiculous that eleven year olds are just sorted into Houses and then basically conditioned to view themselves in a certain light throughout their formative years and–
awkwardpuppydunbar said:Hi could you do a Michael Scoffield imagine where the female reader was sent to Fox River for killing the presidents son but she was framed like Lincoln. And Michael is just really drawn to her and let’s her in on his face plan and one day they’re talking privately maybe during PI and she says “why are you helping me?” And he just kisses her before saying “does that answer your question” with a whole lot of fluff please and thank you xxx Love your writing btw
A/n: So glad you requested a Michael Scofield fic! Gotta love him! Anyway enjoy… *Swearing in this fic*
I have got framed for murder. But can you guess who they picked to frame for me “killing”? The president. Out of all the people in the world they chose the highest person in charge to get murdered.
At first I thought it was a prank, but soon as the hand cuffs got put on my wrist and I could truly feel how heavy and tight they were I knew this was real. I don’t know why I was chosen to be framed nor do I think I will ever know, but I am. I guess I am not alone as this guy called “Lincoln” was sentenced for the killing too. I have never met the guy before but somehow they managed to think that we were involved together.
Even-though I was put in jail for taking part in helping with the murder and was put down for life in prison, it’s still my life gone. If I was framed then I don’t have any trouble believing Lincoln was too. I feel sorry for the guy. I get to live in jail, but he will die.
Now, I could be grateful and say at least I am alive and well but I am alive and well in a fucking male prison. One female vs hundreds of horny male prisoners. How exciting.
Like almost everyday I sat a bench in the yard and began to read (your favourite book). It helps me escape for awhile. It’s been my routine to wake up, brush teeth, eat breakfast, get pushed into the yard and read.
Since I got here there’s been one guy who’s been watching me, making sure no one got close. I don’t think he realised I guessed it. Whenever a guy attempts to get close he will casually walk by and grab the guys hand, moving him into a corner; trying to act like they’re mates.
A filthy finger appeared on top of my book, forcing it to fall onto the table so I could pay attention to the man in front of me.
-”Morning princess” T-bag licked his lips, giving a cheeky wink which I did not appreciate.
I ignored him, picking back up my book and reading from where I was rudely interrupted. This time he grabbed it out of my hand. In a tempt to get it back he moved it further away. I rolled my eyes, knowing he was enjoying every second of this.
-”What a sweet girl like you sitting all alone?”
I stood up, grabbing my book and began to walk away- “Getting away from a filthy fuck boy like you”
Before I could get remotely far away from him he grabbed my arm, turning me towards him forcefully; as he was doing so he managed to grab my neck- “You might want to treat a man with respect” he spat.
Michael grabbed T-bag’s shoulder, knocking him on the ground before standing over him- “I would run to you pack if I was you” Without a kick or a scream T-bag left.
My neck didn’t hurt, but I couldn’t remove my hand from it. I must of held on long enough to worry Michael because he came by my side to examine it.
-”Thank you” I slightly whispered, still in complete shock.
“Don’t sweat it”
That was 2 months ago, but I still think about it over and over. I mean, he could of left me… But he didn’t. Instead he let me in and is prepared to ruin his plan just for me.
I placed a paint brush down on a tray and walked beside Michael who was currently plastering- “Hey” I said, oddly shy.
He looked at me confused, all while still doing his work- “Sorry?”
I cleared my throat- “What?” I asked, worried.
He repeated what I said with shaking in his voice on purpose- “Hey” He chuckles and I’m left standing there smiling. I hit his arm hard- “Ouch”
-”Why are you helping me?” I straight out asked. No warning, no slur; just straight out there- “I mean, you didn’t have to. There’s way better people you could of added into your plan who are amazing and talented at this stuff; not to mention-”
I was cut off by his lips hitting mine. It was almost orgasmic. He pulled away, one hand around my waist as he lets his other hand fall loosely with the brush in the hand- “Does that answer your question?” I let out a giggle, kissing him while my hand ran across his jawline, down to his chest.
-”I dunno, maybe you should exaggerate a bit more?”