and all of you have made it a better experience for me somehow

Ok but you know what trope I love and don’t get NEARLY enough of?

Accidental sex

“Anything you can do I can do better INCLUDING THAT” sex

“You played a prank on me and now I’m going to play one on you except oops this accidentally got hot” sex

“You made an inaccurate assumption about *insert sexual or sexuality misnomer here* and I’m going to teach you the truth” sex

“You think you’re so smart so I’m going to teach you a lesson” sex

“Do you think I look good/hot/provocative in this? Wait is this turning you on???” sex

“You don’t know what *insert kink here* is and I’m really bad at explaining things and now we’re doing it oops” sex

“I bet I can dance/move/act like that and I don’t even have to be a dancer/stripper/actor/whatever wait are you turned on?” sex

“I lost a bet to you and the circumstances were supposed to be a joke but I took them seriously” sex

“You were joking about something and I took you seriously” sex

“You seem to think that __ won’t feel good and I intend to prove you wrong” sex

“You’re intentionally getting under my skin so I threaten to spank you/playfully spank you and now you look like you just got banged against a wall” sex

“I didn’t know you were a sub and when I called you a good boy/girl you almost cried” sex

“I didn’t know you were a dom and when I called you Sir/Ma'am you almost jumped me” sex

“Playing a prank on our freinds to make them think we’re a couple and now we’re in bed together” sex

“I’m fixing you *insert appliance/furniture/house thing hee* for you and now I’m sweaty and half naked and you’re drooling” sex

“I noticed the way you were watching me eat this popsicle so I purposely started making it an inuendo and now we’re both hot and bothered” sex

“Haha that thing they do in movies/porn/online is so corny like no way that’s actually hot haha oops it is” sex

“Freinds can totally watch porn together and nothing can happen…. no they can’t” sex

“I showed you *insert sexual thing here* as a joke but you’re actually turned on” sex

“You found my sex toys and I teasingly offered to demonstrate them welp here we are” sex

“I started pretending to dirty talk to you an hour ago and it stopped being pretending 58 minutes ago” sex

“All I’m saying is that I’ve been told I’m a good lay, wanna find out?” sex

“You said you don’t like __ but I bet the people you were with just don’t know how to do it, I, however, have experience and bet I could make you like it” sex

“We platonically slept together last night because of circumstances and we both woke up horny” sex

“This started as a tickle fight and it isn’t tickling anymore” sex

“We’re just bros being bros and doing something 100% platonic but somehow we’re turning eachother on because of not-so-burried feelings for eachother and we can’t make it stop” sex

Accidental sex ok?

A year ago today I found out Carrie Fisher had died while I was returning Christmas gifts at Zara. Two women, both in their 40s, had been talking about it in that hushed, fake sad voice I use at wakes for people I don’t really know. “It’s so sad, so out of the blue.” At first, I thought they were talking about the heart attack she had had, 2 days before Christmas. By Christmas Day, everybody was reporting that she was doing much better. On Christmas morning, my little brother gave me her newest book, The Princess Diarist, and told me he was happy she hadn’t died. I kept praying anyways, even if it was silly, because I felt useless otherwise.

Two days later, in a Zara, one of those 40 something year old ladies said something that made my breath hitch and my hands sweat. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but something about her being too young. It was the way they said it. I knew. “Did Carrie Fisher die?” I asked, no tact. They looked at each other, worried. I can only imagine what I looked and sounded like. Panicked, deranged, helpless. My eyes wide, my lips shaking, my face sweaty. “Yes,” one of them said cautiously, and I, as the story goes, broke down.

Okay but what the hell leads a 21 year old girl to break down sobbing over the death of a 60 year old woman she never met in the middle of a Zara?

Watching Star Wars for the first time is a religious experience, to put it mildly. Star Wars is sacred, and my dad let me know that. I was watching something important, something big, something loved by millions, but that in this moment would feel like it was just for me. Star Wars awakens something in you, something beautiful and hopeful and wonderful.

And Princess Leia? Well, she was everything to me.

I stared in complete amazement. I won’t pretend there wasn’t something a little gay going on. Millions of men have talked about Princess Leia being one of their very first crushes, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t true for me. She’s beautiful. But more important than that, was everything else I saw, everything every other little girl who watched Star Wars for the first time saw. Princess Leia was bold, she was strong, she was “Someone has to save our skins. Into the garbage chute, fly boy,” she was quick witted, she was regal, she was passionate, she was compassionate, she was everything and anything I could ever hope to be. I loved her, and she was my hero.

Then, I grew up. I still loved Star Wars, I’ll always love Star Wars. But Princess Leia was suddenly unattainable. I could never be her, could never come close. The wonder I had was faded, and a little dusty, the way it gets when you’ve lost too much of your childhood. Star Wars still is and will always be magic to me, and Princess Leia is and always will be my hero, but I stopped kidding myself that I could ever be her.

Then, I got to know Carrie Fisher.

Carrie Fisher was Princess Leia, but she was also so much fucking more. Carrie Fisher was a writer, just like me. She could somehow make my sides hurt from laughing and at the same time like my heart pang with sorrow. Her writing was as funny as it was vulnerable. Her writing was everything. Carrie Fisher was big, and she refused to make herself smaller. She was mentally ill, she was bipolar, and she was not only open about it, she was unapologetic. I looked to her as I dealt with my OCD and anxiety, and felt emboldened and sure in myself, even in the messiness.

Carrie Fisher didn’t give a fuck what anybody thought, but she loved “for miles and miles.” Carrie Fisher was an addict, and she let the whole world in, unafraid to be honest. Carrie Fisher wore too much glitter, and she sent threatening cow tongues to producers who sexually assaulted women. Carrie Fisher had “a big mouth.” Carrie Fisher was herself, so completely, and what she was was loud, bold, caring, messy, beautiful, honest, mentally ill, a survivor. She was everything, even more so than Leia, because she was real. She was a woman who had dealt with the best of the world and the worst of it, and let us all watch. She wasn’t just what I wanted to be as a woman, she was what I was. In all women is that messiness, that rawness, that boldness. We live in a world that wants us to squash that down, to be quiet and submissive. Carrie never was, and I loved her for it. She was not this unattainable goal; she was everything I had in me, and everything I wanted to unleash.

She makes me feel okay to cry when I need to cry, no matter where or who is watching. She empowers me to get angry when I need to get angry, to tell people who deserve to fuck off to fuck off. She inspires me love myself, flaws and all, rough edges just another part of the art.

So when Carrie Fisher died, I broke down in a Zara. I cried on and off for what felt like weeks. I cried more days than I can count thinking about her this year. And maybe it’s silly. I’ve never met the woman, for God’s sake. But Carrie taught me to feel what I feel, with my whole heart in it. And goddamnit, I miss her, and I think about her. I wonder what she would say right now about the Trump administration, about Harvey Weinstein and all the other scum bags who’ve been outed in Hollywood. I wonder what else she would have said, would have done, that would have inspired me. I wonder what fucking emojis she would have tweeted. I wonder how many jokes would have made me laugh.

I miss her. I’ve missed her everyday for a year. I doubt I’ll ever stop missing her. But more importantly, I’ll never stop thanking her, and I’ll never forget what she’s taught me.

Public School Is A Goddamn Disater, Part 2: The Lovecraftian Madness of Machismo

Part 1 here, AKA: the Mantisocalypse (you don;t have to read it to understand this one, but you should anyway)

Content Warnings: Mental Illness, Attempted Murder, Sexual Content, Stalking, Abuse, Animal Abuse Mention, Emetophobia, US Public Education, Military Industrial Complex.  I’ve been told this is my most disturbing story, even if it’s hilarious, so mind your health.  All the names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent and Not-So-Innocent.

This is the story of Recruiting Sergeant Scott VS. The Lacrosse Jocks VS. Yours truly.

To understand this story, you must understand the dystopian hellscape that is US Public High School- I went to the NICE high school in town, with the AP curriculum and new building, where the the kids were generally too obsessed with getting into the ivy league to do anything worse than occasionally smoke on the roof.  Not even weed, just regular cigs.  During their off-periods, so they’d have time to febreeze their clothes and arrive to their next class early.  You know, the most boring fucking kids ever.

AND STILL, we were subjected to the various scourges of US public ed, namely-

-on-campus police officers and regular “what to do in case of a columbine event” drill.  We had Officer Munoz, who was a wonderful Latina Woman with the good sense to focus her efforts on getting kids away from abusive parents rather than persecuting brown kids, but we were VERY lucky on that front.  Still, having someone walking around with a gun and technically the authority to kill you, and having to hide in the science cabinets three times a year fucks you up.  Remember Officer Munoz though, She is Important.

- A weird, cult-like, frankly masturbatory attitude regarding athletic achievement.  The arts and sciences were stuck doing bake sales for supplies while the gym got re-done two years after the school opened.  This was tempered in an odd way at my school in that literally all the sports teams unequivocally sucked, with the exception of 

1.Marching Band, which went to nationals twice in the first two years the school was open 

2.Knowledge Bowl, where kevin and I took the team to 3rd in state in our first year, and only lost because Kevin had an asthma attack so we decided to let the other teams fight over the ‘lesser’ medals 

3.Lacrosse, which didn’t actually didn’t GO anywhere, but was a “real” sport and beat our ‘rival’ school, so the team got to be Big Men On Campus, and get away with all kinds of nonsense like eating in class when everyone else was forbidden or skipping tests for ‘practice’.  The three worst offenders were Dustin, Jack and “Rattlesnake Pete”, all of whom were budding neo-nazis and thus signed up for German.  With our Jewish teacher.  Remember them too.

-On-campus military recruiters.  As in, people who are legally allowed to exaggerate, manipulate and actually lie to minors to convince them to join the armed forces.  Ours was Sergeant Scott, and as much of a skeevy rat as he was I honestly felt bad for him, because remember, academic magnet high school so he had three kinds of kids to work with:

  • Kids who made the physical standards for the armed forces and were all about honoring their country via physical labor, but were dumb as shit and couldn’t pass the written exam.
  • Kids who could pass the written exam and were totally ready to bully some people in the third world, but couldn’t do a pull up if you covered the gym floor in cobras.
  • Kids who passed the physical and mental portions but were uniformly rabidly anti-military industrial complex, to the point where 35 of them crammed into his cubicle in the office he shared with Officer Munoz and Janitor Wendy, so they could hold a sit-in protest of the Iraq war and chant “Impeach Bush” and “War is Murder” at him  Someone chucked red paint on him, because they’re furious immature teenagers.  It was his first day.

Poor bastard.  Remember Him as well.

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Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.

But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.

Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.

Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.

He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One.  He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)

He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible. 

Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.

He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgiveness
Pay off every witness

When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.

*******

It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.

I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with at best a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?

There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth.  The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.

(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)

The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.

The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy.  Specifically, it was the lines

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.

(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)

In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs?  He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.

At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it. 

⇁ plums & melons | 01

Originally posted by trash-for-bangtan

pairing⇁Jimin x Reader

genre⇁smut, slight humor, drama || brother’s best friend!au 

warnings⇁public indecency, dirty talk, a lot of teasing, jimin’s porn preferences, and boobs

word count⇁6.3k

The long time running game between you and your brother’s best friend started when you noticed his fascination with boobs—yours specifically. It was never supposed to amount to more than harmless flirting and lingering glances, but now, one year later, Jimin was ready to change that.

alternatively: Jimin and you play a game. the loser is fucked. metaphorically. literally. all the above??

01 || 02 

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anonymous asked:

So like it's pretty cool how humans figured out how to bake. Like we made edible chemistry, we like mixed all of theese reactions together to make a delicious cake. Imagine an alien seeing this for the first time.

Oh my goodness!! My first prompt! Thank you!

Hruk’ib didn’t understand why everyone was so concerned about the humans. For the most part, they were polite and friendly, they followed the orders of their superiors, and they didn’t hesitate when it came to tossing protocol out the airlock in dire times. Hruk’ib respected them and had known from Day One that these members of their crew were not just allies but assets.

So it was that when Hruk’ib smelled strange smells coming from the food preparation bay, he wasn’t too upset; a couple of the humans - Konani and Frederik - loved to work with food and did so regularly. Still, curiosity drove him to enter the bay, and it was when he entered, the doors’ hydraulics hissing open and then closed, that he sensed the excess heat.

FIRE!

He froze where he stood, every instinct of his species urging him to flee yet conflicting with the ingrained training of the fleet to make sure his crewmates were safe and away and not near fire! He couldn’t see it, there was no smoke, but he felt it – hot enough to reduce flesh to nothing more than charred ashes.

“Oh, hey, Hruk’ib!”

Hruk’ib’s head snapped around to find the two humans hovering around one of the many stovetops. In his peripherals, however (and it was a miracle in the first place that he noticed at all), he spotted the most unholy mess: white dust coating a prep table, glob-like splatters of what looked like sticky excrement in bowls and dripping onto the tabletop, and at least four or five of what looked like some kind of metal mesh trays on various nearby counters. The trays bore small, round objects that appeared solid and gave off a most enticing scent.

Then his eyes drifted back to the humans who stood uncertainly. Konani had heavy, cloth gloves on her hands and held a long, thin tray. Her brown eyes flicked from him to Frederik beside her and back again. “Um, this batch has to cool but if you want a cookie, there are some fresh ones, uh, everywhere.” She gestured with her elbow to the counters.

The humans were calm. Why were they calm in the face of fire? They weren’t that stupid. They were determinedly foolhardy at times, especially when ethanol was involved, but even humans got worried when fire threatened.

Hruk’ib forced himself to take a deep breath. The heat rushed down his throat and into his lungs – no ash, no smoke, just heat. It was a different heat, similar to when they passed too close to a star and the very ship felt like an… an oven.

The oven was not designed to give off this much heat!

“What is it that you are doing?” he asked, trying to calm down.

Konani busied herself with the…cookies, leaving Frederik to explain. “Ve are baking,” he said. “Ve asked Yensen to tveak ze oven settings because zey vere too low for baking cookies.”

“We asked permission first,” Konani added. “Captain K’alo said we could but only if we did it to one. We made a notice and everything so other crew won’t accidentally set fire to their food.”

Frederik stepped out of the way and Hruk’ib spotted the massive note tacked to the wall above the stove in question. The bright red sign was impossible to miss and the white letters were clear in both Earth’s English, as well as Hruk’ib’s native language of Jubri.

Hruk’ib nodded his head in the humans’ agreement signal. “Very well. I was afraid you had set the room on fire. We usually do not encounter this kind of heat outside of the engine cores,” he explained.

“Ah,” said Konani. “That makes sense.”

“Ve apologise for startling you, Hruk’ib,” Frederik added, pressing his palms together.

Hruk’ib smiled at the human displaying the sign for formal apology among his species. He lifted his left hand, palm turning inward and then upward to accept it, and Frederik smiled in turn.

With her hands still full, Konani simply inclined her head to him, also apologising.

“What is baking?” Hruk’ib asked.

“In a word, chemistry.” Shedding the gloves, Konani faced him fully, leaning against the counter. “It’s different from cooking because the ingredients in baking react to the heat and, if you get the recipe right, work together to create something else. It’s not like we’re roasting meat where we have to cook it to eat it safely. You can eat an unbaked cookie without much threat.”

“Alzough, zere are many people who zink you can get salmonella - zat is food poisoning - from eating ze dough because of ze raw eggs,” Frederik put in.

“Oh,” said Hruk’ib. “Then, you are conducting a chemical experiment.”

“In essence, yes. Want one?” Konani held a mesh tray out to him.

Now Hruk’ib drifted forward, purposefully ignoring the mess, and bee-lined for the tantalising aroma wafting from these strange, dark-brown discs.

“They’re a friend’s recipe,” Konani explained. “She made sure I had enough cocoa powder to last me ten solar cycles, though I’m not sure I’ll use it all.”

Hruk’ib chuckled, sensing the humour, and picked up a cookie. It was still warm between his appendages. It was solid yet somehow soft, almost moist… He flicked his tongue out, sampling, and was rewarded with a burst of flavour. He took a bite. Barely hard on the outside, it was luxuriously soft on the inside. He had never eaten one of these things in his entire life and yet something about eating it and the smell of it reminded him of home, of blankets and coziness and something that was better than camaraderie: family.

Science. This rapturous product was one of science. May the humans and their ingenuity never die out.

Hruk’ib licked his fingers before turning to the two humans who watched him with mixed expressions of humour and curiosity. “May I have another, please?” he asked.

Konani grinned while Frederik laughed.

“Of course!” she answered while Frederik continued to chortle. “But it is a universally acknowledged truth that a glass of cold milk always accompanies the eating of cookies.”

Hruk’ib took the glass Frederik gave him, interchangeably eating and drinking. Milk and cookies, together: a universally acknowledged truth, indeed.

Get Out.

Originally posted by tess453

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: Deciding to stay in for a date, Peter and the Reader are faced with annoying and embarrassing comments from the whole team, who are unaware of their relationship.

Word Count: 2,428

Warnings: language, fluff, annoying avengers (??), embarrassed!Peter, embarrassed!Reader, cuteness, LOTR trilogy. (Let me know if I missed any)

A/N: Alright homies, I apologize it has taken me so long to upload something. I’ve been reaally stressed. So hopefully this is okay? For the anon that requested this, I hope you like it. I’d love some feedback, as always. Enjoy reading!


Dark, gray clouds blocked any source of light from shining through the big, thick glass windows surrounding every inch of the building.

The entire tower was filled with a solemn mood that spread into every corner and room.

Most of the team dreaded days like these, since it put a damper on their mood, (especially Steve).

You, however, cherished days like these the most.

It’s where you find your peace and inner self, no matter how depressing that may sound.

It helps you relax and release any stresses that corrupt your thoughts.

But the best reason of all is that you don’t have to leave the house, even if you had a date with Peter tonight.

However, thinking that idea through, you realized something.

The whole team would be here.

With Peter and you.

During your date.

Well, fuck.

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Homestuck Beach Headcanons

John: hot sand hot sand hot sand *makes it to the water* cold water cold water cold water (this goes on for like an hour before he settles finally). Brought one of those fake shark fins and straps it to the top of his head. He fools no one. Brought approximately 53 kites and loses All of them because Dave said “hey I bet your kites can’t hold up against your windy thing”. He was right. Tells Karkat that the ocean speaks to ppl through conch shells, he holds one up to his ear, nods, “sorry Karkat, the ocean says you’re an idiot”. Karkat is horrified and John is dying trying to keep a straight face.

Dave: has a SBAHJ swimsuit and a SBAHJ surfboard. Challenges Jade to a surf-off. “Are you sure, Dave? I’ve had a lot of practice and it’s not as easy as it looks! I’ve got it, Dave reassures her. How difficult can it be. She warned u, bro. She warned u about the surf. He does not get back in the water. Fills a bucket with crabs of various shapes and sizes throughout the day, at the end he calls Karkat over to where he’s standing by the waters edge. Hey. Hey Karkat. Look what I found. He pours the crabs out at Karkat’s feet. Karkat looks unsettled. Dave. Where did you even find all these crabs Dave. They’re your children Karkat. I did this for you.

Jade: spends the whole day in the water and also she is a surf goddess did I mention that? Doesn’t put any sunscreen in and everyone is concerned but she barely even tans. After getting out of the water she does the Wet Doggo Shake™ Jade can u pls just warn us before u do that pls you’re getting us all soaking wet. Smells suspiciously like wet dog but everyone is too polite to point it out. Helps Dave collect his crabs bc she has an uncanny knack for finding them (she’s sniffing them out with her doggy nose but doesn’t tell Dave bc she wants to show off).

Rose: builds sand castles with Kanaya bc Kanaya is deadass terrified of the ocean. They surpass sandcastle tbh it’s more like a sand palace. Rose found a bunch of nice purpley shells to decorate with and also some rocks that look suspiciously arcane and vaguely powerful. High tide somehow wipes out the group’s chairs but doesn’t touch the sandcastle. Hm. Chastises Dave for building dicks out of the sand. Is there something you’d like to tell us, Dave? *Dave sweating* what’s a penis I don’t even know anyone named Karkat. Rose smiles innocently. Of course not. Throughout the day, Rose brings water for Kanaya to drink and also to dump on her so she can regulate her body temperature. Since she’s a cold-blood her body temp is lower so she overheats v easily.

Kanaya: is deadass terrified of the ocean. Does the detail work on the castle she and Rose are making, carves out little stairs and turrets and makes flags out of spare ribbon she keeps in her bag. It’s beautiful. She cries at the end of the day when they have to leave it even though they’ve taken lots of pictures. . Karkat comes up to her with a conch shell and holds it out to Kanaya, “john told me the ocean said I was an idiot Kanaya what is it saying I can’t hear anything” She takes the conch shell and listens. Mmhm. Yes. Oh My. “What did it say???” It Was Really Quite Rude, I Shouldn’t Repeat It. Karkat is about to cry. Kanaya and Rose secretly fist bump.

Karkat: oh boy this has really been A Day for him. He’s nervous around the ocean already but apparently it thinks he’s an idiot??? He loves the crabs they remind him of his lusus, it was slightly horrifying that Dave put a bunch of them in a bucket for obvious reasons. Wants to be buried in the sand, Jake helps him dig a big hole and he and Dave and Dirk all work together to make it big enough and fill it in afterwards. Dave writes “im gay” underneath Karkat’s head poking out and Karkat yells at him for taking pictures. Sollux falls asleep on his towel and Karkat writes “beefucker” on his forehead.

Terezi: before they got there everyone told Terezi not to lick the sand. Guess what she did. Also, accidentally popped the beach ball with her teeth because she was licking it. There’s a theme here can u find it. Is in the water a lot because Vriska is desperately trying to regulate her body temperature and has v little energy to say mean things which everyone is grateful for. To make her feel better, Terezi engages in wildly uncreative insults that Vriska can easily latch onto without having to put much energy in. “Hey Terezi is the water cold?” I don’t know john, is your FACE cold? “Terezi that doesn’t even make any sense”, your face doesn’t make any sense! She cackles as if this is some High Brow Humor every single time.

Jake: has an irrational fear of seagulls, they keep coming for his food and that makes him nervous because the monsters on his island were one thing but this? This sly and wily creature? Dirk is like,,,buddy,,,it’s just a seagull? It’s just a bird? “They’re eating my fries, Dirk, I won’t stand for it!” Jake has a little ukulele that he knows like five songs on, he sits outside by the boardwalk and just strums it sometimes after dark. One night, two little kids come by and give him 6 dollars in crumpled singles for his playing and he started crying he was so touched.

Jane: is having the TIME of her life, and is also the Mom friend. She’s simultaneously kicking ass at beach volleyball and reminding everyone to put on their sunscreen and reapply every two hours please! She’s also having a good time experimenting with cooking seafood some nights, though once she made the mistake of bringing in crab and Karkat did Not take it well. It took an hour to calm him down. Jane felt awful and made it up to him by buying him a nice hoodie w a happy crab on it. Bought a cute little blue boogie board and hangs out with Jade and Roxy in the water, she’s not very good at it but she likes swimming around a little.

Dirk: he’s that one friend that goes way too hard in casual games tbh. Like, they’re just playing a friendly game of volleyball Dirk can you please stop spiking it every five seconds. The grind never stops, Roxy, don’t hate the player hate the grind. Jane looked at him w so much disappointment in her eyes after he said it that he felt the force of her stare physically and had to take a step back. Tries to show Jake that seagulls aren’t scary by feeding them, but they start attacking him for his fries which does not help prove his point at all.

Roxy: “the babe” Lalonde has been ready for a beach trip her entire life. She is checking out the lifeguards, she’s checking out the other gals and dudes strolling about the beach, she’s got her best friends with her, what more could she want??? She buys a cutesy pink surfboard and Dave makes fun of her for it and she smiles sweetly. Oh sorry Dave? I forgot you were so good at surfing?? No one knows how or when Roxy learned to hang ten but THERE SHE GOES. She finds a lot of pretty shells and rocks and sand dollars and is just enthusiastic about everything tbh. She brightens everyone’s mood always.

Calliope: cherubs can’t float so Roxy’s overprotective ass won’t let her near the water unless someone is with her and making sure she’s safe. This is Fine with calliope bc that means that she’s never alone and therefore she’s never lonely and really that’s all she’s ever wanted so!! She’s v content to watch Jade and Roxy surf, she will sit w Jane sometimes when she isn’t in the water. She also likes digging for sand crabs with Karkat bc she likes their little legs. She wants to dig deep enough to find a lobster and no one has the heart to tell her that’s not how it works.

Sollux: this idiot. This boy. My sweet sweet son. Makes the horrible mistake of falling asleep on his towel. He was underneath the big umbrella when he started, but as the sun moves and he’s not putting on more sunscreen?? John, Dave, and Karkat take it upon themselves to not only write “beefucker” on his forehead, but also draw dicks on his whole body in sunscreen so he burns (trolls turn a darker shade of their blood color) and ends up with these pale gray dicks surrounded by a horrible dark, mustardy burn.

brighter than fire (m)

Summary: There’s quite possibly nothing you hate more than Min Yoongi and his stupid, stupid face—and the stupid, stupid way he makes you feel.
Pairing: Yoongi | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut, Camp Counselor AU
Word Count: 11,371
Author’s Note: What better way to celebrate the summer than to mix Min Yoongi and camp counseling? Also, this is my first time getting to write really sarcastic Yoongi and I was really living. And to @minsvga – hEY thanks for encouraging sarcastic Yoongi in the first place, and lots of sinning; this is all your fault. 

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As soon as you step off the bus at the top of the mountain, surrounded by trees and forest and the fresh smell of pine, miles and miles away from your family and the troubles of everyday life—there is without a doubt in your mind that you’re reached your home. The sun is bright, hitting your eyes as soon as you depart from the vehicle, which only serves as a benchmark for what the next few weeks would consist of. And for the most part, you cannot wait to bask in the freedom and the responsibility and the adventure of resuming your counselor position at Camp Bulletproof for the fourth year in a row.

There’s an endearing aspect of being a regular at Camp Bulletproof, one that comes with smiles and waves exchanged with counselors who share the same experience as you, ones you’ve known for many years and have a friendship that can transcend the fact that you all didn’t see each other a lot more than you actually saw each other but that doesn’t stop any of you from spending hours on end supplying backstories for stories or sharing tales from school. It’s a gesture that is done very willingly given that some of these people have plagued your childhood and some of your most fond memories. For the most part, you can’t wait until after hours so the counselors could all have some time to catch up.

For the most part.

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Little Witch (Part 1)

Pairings: It’ll be a Peter x reader

word count: 1730

Requested:  Hey can you write one where the avengers go to recruit a girl they heard about? She lives in the deep woods and uses magic. When they find her they weren’t expecting someone so young since she’s only like 14-15. They start having second thoughts but she shows them that she can handle herself. She also wants revenge cause hydra killed her family trying to get to her.

A/N: I made the reader a little older and i hope it’s not a problem. I really liked the request and i have a big idea how to continue this. I hope you like it and if so let me know in order to post a Part 2 and maybe more ;) Enjoy (and sorry for the mistakes)

Originally posted by merlinemryspendragon


It was Saturday and everyone in the Avenger tower was finally able to relax. The whole week represented a lot of missions, hours of training and a serious lack of sleep. Today had to be their day off. Nat was trying to find an interesting film on the TV but for now with no luck. Steve was in his room immersed in his thought for the present again. Tony, as always, was doing something in his laboratory with Bruce but this time they weren’t eager to make a progress so fast, so they were mostly telling each other jokes rather than work. Clint and Vision, unusually, were cooking whatever they could think of while Peter, Wanda and Thor were ready to become tasters. Everything was going fine until a familiar and detestable sound reached their ears.

“Good morning, Avengers.”, said Colson, “How are you in this sunny and beautiful day?”

“Oh, hey Son of Col! We are perfect.”, Thor answered with a bright smile on his face.

Now everyone was in the living room looking at the man in a black suit showing on the huge TV.

“If you have to tell us something good then go on, if not…better fuck yourself.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you too, Romanoff.”, the man looked with a smile at the red-head and then turned again to the whole gang, “Okay, I will go to the main part. Three days ago something extraordinary happened in woods north of Minnesota.”, bellow him appeared some photos, “As you see, some of the trees are burnt but definitely not from a fire, and this one.”, a photo showing something like spikes coming from the ground became in view.

“What the hell is this?”, Peter exclaimed, “How is that even possible?”

“That’s what you have to find out.”

“What?! No!”, Tony said angrily. “No! Not going to happen! We have a day off, Colson!”

“I know you do, but it’s important. Given the fact it’s like 7km away from a Hydra base, it may be someone used for an experiment. And we need only three or four of you to go and check.”, the man announced.

“I’m in!”, Wanda said with no hesitations.

“Count me, too”, Clint raised his hand to show that he’s ready.

“And me.”

“Peter, you are not going.”, Tony declared.

“Why not? We only have to check what’s going on, that’s all.”

“He is right Tony, and I will go, too.”, Steve stated and the four of them received the needed information.

“I’m sick of Mr. Stark treating me like a kid.”, Peter breathed out as he and the other three avengers were getting in the helicopter.

“But you are a kid, Pete.”, Steve sat down and put his belt on. The others followed his actions and soon they were high above the ground.

“That’s not what I mean. I may be a kid as I am that young but I can look after myself. I can do things just like you guys. I want and I can become a hero. It seems he…he doesn’t want me to be one.”

“You know that’s not true.”, Wanda tried to calm the boy down, “He is just afraid. You and either I are new in all of this, but he, Steve and Clint are deep in this dangerous world and know what it costs to be a hero.”

“Wanda is right, boy. I share Stark’s thoughts but not completely. If you want to be a hero, you must know that you risk the lives of your beloved ones – family, friends, girlfriends… We all have experienced the feeling of losing someone; we just don’t want you to go through this at that young age.”, Clint said while checking his arrows.

“But don’t worry, we’ll be beside your back.”, Steve patted Peter’s shoulder and till the end of the flight nobody spoke.

Two hours later the group was finally at the mentioned place. There was no place for the helicopter to land so the heroes had to get down with the help of a rope.

“So…which direction should we go?”, Clint questioned as he, the last one, got on the hard ground.

“North.”, Steve looked at his compass to make sure he was right and then led the gang towards the destination.

“Why would somebody stay so deep In the woods?”, Peter decided to break the silence.

“I don’t think they are just staying there, Pete.”

“They are hiding.”, Wanda respond back.

“Why do you think so?”

“Colson said that there is a Hydra base in the distance…I think whoever managed to escape, is now terrified and…and angry.”

“How can you be so sure? Hydra probably sent out somebody to see if he can cooperate and serve them.”, the way Steve retorted back showed he had no good feeling towards the organization.

“Because I can feel it!”

“What do you mean?”, Peter was so confused given the fact he was new and didn’t have much information about the Hydra thing and Wanda’s powers.

“Sometimes I can either get in your head or memories, or feel your emotions.”

Steve was about to say something back as his anger has somehow unlocked but Clint was the one to stop them from a fight.

“Guys! We have a work to do and right now it’s in front of us.”, Hawkeye showed the previously seen spikes, which were like 10 meters away from them, “Can you solve your problems when we are back in the base, and I am away from your childish behavior?”

Wanda and Steve looked a little ashamed while Peter was still standing there with a stupid expression on his face while trying to figure the things out. While going to the strange and kind of a scary place the gang saw some burnt trees, others had a burnt hand mark on them, others were still up but their leaves were dry. As they were becoming closer a change in the temperature was felt.

“It wasn’t that hot minutes before. I’m sweating in this costume and now my body is itching like crazy.”, Parker announced as he began scratching.

“It’s coming from the inside.”

The spikes coming from the ground were making something like a dome. The sharp sides were touching at the top, while at the bottom they were forming a circle. This ‘structure’ was definitely made for some sort of protection.

“Maybe the person is inside this thing.”

“I will try to break it. Step back.”, Wanda commanded and then, using her magic, she broke one of the spikes. As she did so, another one grew but not upwards. Instead the spike with its sharp side directed at her body was about to kill her if it wasn’t Steve to save her.  They both fell on the ground while the others two tried to save themselves from the other deadly formations that suddenly appeared from the ground.  

“What the hell was that?!”, Clint exclaimed as he tried to catch his breath.

“I don’t know but we better find a way to…”, Peter was interrupted from Wanda’s scream to watch out. But his spider senses had already informed him about a danger. He jumped and used his webs to get on a high tree.  From up there he managed to notice the small aperture.

“I can get there and I will. Don’t try to stop me, we are losing time. When I get there you will attack and try to ruin this shield. Got it?”, the young boy notified the others through his micro earphone, “Let’s have some fun.”, Peter put his mask on and jumped from the tree. He landed just a meter away from the wanted place but as soon as his foots touched the spikes others began appearing. With his fastness he got in the hole seconds before getting seriously injured.

Although he has done it before, this time Peter made his superhero landing on his ass.

“Shit, that hurts.”, he cursed out but as soon as he did he was thrown against the strong wall made from the spikes.

“Tell me who the hell you are or I’ll kill you.”, a sweet, yet dry voice reached his ears. He looked up and saw a girl around his age standing defensive opposite him with a rage written on her face.

“I’m Pet-, shit! No, I’m Spiderman and I-”, but the boy was interrupted by being sent to the ‘wall’ again.

“You are lying! If Hydra is sending you, which I am sure about, you are gonna die in agony. They’ll finally see what I am capable of! That’s what they want, isn’t it?”, the girl screamed and clenched fists. Peter, who was thrown again, managed to see what she was doing and how she was capable of whisking him wherever she wanted. The guy soon realized she was a witch just like Wanda.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. We are here to help you”, as soon as those words were spoken, the girl was ready to make that boy shut up by repeating her previous actions but Peter was faster. He sent webs towards her hands, sticking them on one of the spikes. She tried to escape but with in vain. Peter used this opportunity to scan the girl. She was his height, with a (y/h/t) (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c) now full with anger. Her clothes were dirty and scattered, her face slightly sunken maybe due to the lack of food.  

Suddenly the whole structure was hit and a part of it ruined down. The girl used this as an opportunity to go away and this time she managed. She began running but the boy shoot web at her and stopped her. The witch fell on the ground and looked at the four people standing meters away.

“I’ll kill you!”, she screamed and sent a stone towards the group. Wanda was the one to create a shield with her magic and protect her friends. The girl’s eyes widen as she saw that somebody had powers just as her.

“Stop attacking us and just listen!”, Wanda spoken calmly.

“We are here to help you, don’t need to be afraid.”, a man with a soft voice gave his hand to help her stand. The girl looked up and was met by a dirty blonde hair and kind blue eyes.

“C-captain America?”

Part 2 

Little Tumblr Things I Love

a non-comprehensive list of things that happen on tumblr that always tickle me:

  • when you get a nice anonymous message, reply to it, and then OTHER PEOPLE LIKE THE POST. like… other people just like this compliment and my gratitude!!! does this mean they agree with the compliment? do they want to re-read this? why?? IDK but i love it.
  • when it is clear that someone has a tag for your writing– you go to read the tags and they mention you!! by name!! and its like… they know who you are. They have a tag! like they might want to find all your stuff later!!
  • when it is clear someone has just GONE THROUGH YOUR BLOG and either liked or reblogged a shitton of stuff all in a row. they liked your blog long enough to stay on it for a while!
  • when someone follows you and you pop over to see their blog and they have NONE OF THE SAME INTERESTS (at least on their blog) like… they are a hannibal blog and you don’t post ANY hannibal but they are following you anyway! that’s always p freaking awesome. 
  • when people you haven’t had the chance to chat with still reply with nice comments on your posts or ask you things when you post ask games like… i am so shy about doing that but NICE PEOPLE JUST DO IT! AND ITS AWESOME!
  • when people reblog your post and add @s for their friends. like direct recommendation to their friends. thats awesome. 
  • when you assume people are only following for the fic (or art or meta; for me I assume fic) but then you write a personal post about how you have been in the hospital or are sick and you feel bad for being personal on your blog but then PEOPLE ARE NICE ABOUT THAT TOO and reply or like the post and stuff. that’s pretty cool when you think about it. 

look there are more, i’m sure, and obviously there are the big ones like “straight up send nice messages” and “reblog with long, rambling, nice tags” but these are the smaller things that always make me smile and so just… if you have done any one of these: THANK YOU SO MUCH. You have made my tumblr experience better and I hope I have somehow done the same for you. 

Yuri on Ice interview translation - PASH! 2017/05 (p24-25)

I am pleased to bring you the very first interview with director Sayo Yamamoto!!! You don’t know how much I’ve been waiting for this… This one is pretty general because of course she has never been interviewed before so they are asking her the basics, but it’s very interesting to finally hear things from her perspective too, since she’s the one who started it all. More interviews with her will be appearing in other magazines in the near future, I’m looking forward to those ones too.

Also, I believe a bright future is to be expected for Yuri on Ice, since she seems to have lots of plans…!! (I was shivering typing out the translation, lol)

Translation is under the cut.

***If you wish to share this translation please do it by reblogging or posting a link to it***

***Re-translating into other languages is ok but please mention that this post is the source***


Interview (first appearance in media!)
The world of “Yuri on Ice” that director Yamamoto wanted to create
With 8 notebooks full of notes in one hand, director Sayo Yamamoto has answered our interview for the first time. We have asked her how this new animation that no one had ever seen before was born.

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Masterpost of Cryptic Shit from The Adventure Zone

Because damn Griffin’s given us a lot of mysteries to work with. (Excerpts from the show under the cut.)

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The Older Man *smut*- Thomas Shelby

Request// Can you do a imagine of Tommy where the reader is younger than him? @yomairagotpb

Request// Would you consider doing a Tommy Shelby imagine where the reader is quite a bit younger than Tommy and a family friend that helps with the business killing. The reader doesn’t date or anything until Tommy finally professes his feelings and takes her virginity A bit rough Dirty smut pretty please

*You asked for smut and I’m about to hella deliver. Cover your eyes if you can’t handle dirty words! In all honesty, it’s my best attempt after a week of contemplation. Someone please teach me the secret to writing good smut!! I’m going to try to put out at least one more work before Friday because I’m getting my wisdom teeth taken out and no one would want to read anything I right then haha. xoxox*

Masterlist


Same time every week. Like clockwork. Tommy knew to have your pay ready and on his desk by noon every Wednesday so you could pick it up before going to the market. This had been ‘the usual’ for years, and it seemed you had fooled Thomas into even enjoying your momentary visits. Of course, all the men in the shop had if he were to be honest. There was only one notion that had kept him from lashing out passively in a jealous pique or even pursuing you further when he realized just how enamored he’d become with you: you were younger buy some extent, nearby 10 years.

It didn’t help that your family was one of very little the Shelbys could call friends because if a rendezvous were to come about, all secrets would come to light in the eyes of your mother and father. In truth, your position in the company was no longer what it used to be, though they didn’t need to know that. Your father had served in the war, and while he would never be able to walk again, you thanked the Lord everyday that he even came home, consumed at the time on how his older age than most boys he fought with would not excuse him from enemy fire. Your mother had worked in a factory while your dad was away, but to make ends meet, you took up a position at Shelby Company Ltd. the woman you knew as you own aunt Polly had offered you while her nephews were on the battlefront. When the war had ended and the boys had come home, you were sure you would be unemployed. In truth it had been a surprise to all how useful and imperative you became. The only catch was that you duties became more than just helping keep the books like when you were 14. Tommy had gotten you in on exporting malt whiskey to the United States and even ending a couple of the sad lives of those who fucked over the Peaky Blinders. Not that you would say so, but you liked to think of yourself as the first ‘peaky boy.’ Now you were a lone wolf, only ever stopping in when you were called and for your pay as well as weekly updates.

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The Wake of War

[AO3]

So.” Stiles drops back against the side of the Jeep, elbows braced and spine sinking slow against the dusty blue metal. Derek’s hovering a few feet away, at the edge of the lot, not quite ready to vanish into the night but not prepared to join with the rest of the group, either.

He needs their voices, maybe, to block out the ones in his head.

“Looks like I saved your ass again,” Stiles is saying, flashing him a crooked grin. He looks warm and bright like the rest of them, a glow of victory dancing around him that can’t quite seep into Derek’s bones. “What’s the count, now? ‘Cause I think I’m getting pretty close to earning a victory ride in that sweet new Camaro.”

Derek’s lips twitch, a snort slipping out.

“I seem to recall saving you last time.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this. At best, that was a tie.” Stiles looks so smug Derek can’t bring himself to argue, and maybe that’s the reason Stiles’ grin falls. His eyes go soft, flitting over Derek’s frame.

“I’m glad you’re ok, man. …I mean, as nice as it would have been to have my very own, hot guy lawn ornament––”

“Why did I look at her?”

He doesn’t mean to say it; flinches at his own words. His hands are too-tight fists he stretches straight with an effort, and when he looks at Stiles again the bright expression’s gone, replaced by tension and an edge of a grimace he’s trying to fight down.

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physics doesn’t have to suck: how to enjoy and do well in your required physics classes

As someone who doesn’t intend to take a physics class ever again, I was relieved when I walked out of my second semester physics final. That said, physics doesn’t have to suck or drag your average down. 

(1) How to enjoy physics: Adjust your attitude. Physics is so cool if you actually think about it. Your attitude will dictate your experience. (2) But physics is so hard: Change the way you study and don’t give up. I did better in university physics than in high school. The content was way more difficult but it was my studying methods that made the difference.

This post is split into 3 parts: Introductory physics (very basic physics, that unit of physics you had to do in a lower level science class), high school physics (physics from an algebra-based perspective), and university physics (calculus-based physics and labs). (Obviously these overlap a lot but I needed to organize this somehow)

INFO IS UNDER THE CUT B/C THIS POST IS RIDICULOUSLY LONG

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#pining!draco #parseltongue #quidditch

Prompts: @yxxn-g1
Author: @queenofthyme

There may have been fourteen players on the field but Draco only had eyes for one. Fast, lean, focused, Potter was like a bullet the way he shot across the Quidditch pitch. The other seeker didn’t stand a chance. 

“No wonder you didn’t want me to come,” Blaise said from beside Draco, breaking him from his trance.

It was true – he didn’t want Blaise to come. Some of the eighth years had set up their own Quidditch club. Draco wasn’t a part of it, of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wake up ridiculously early every morning so he could watch them, well, Potter, play.

Draco, of course – he had the worst luck, made the mistake of stepping on that creaking floorboard by Blaise’s bed – he usually avoided it but the early starts had started to make his brain a little foggy.

Blaise hadn’t been too happy at being awoken before the sun itself, but the more Draco pushed for him to go back to sleep, the more curious he had become. In the end, he insisted Draco take him with him.

Draco forced his eyes to land on another player before replying. "What do you mean by that?“

Blaise snorted. "Come on, Draco, it’s pretty obvious why you’re here.”

Draco kept his face straight ahead, avoiding Blaise’s knowing eyes. “I enjoy Quidditch.”

“Maybe you enjoy it a little too much.”

Draco averted his eyes as Potter flew into his line of vision. That was hardly his fault. He turned to Blaise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Blaise smirked. “I think you know exactly what I mean.” Blaise jerked his head out to the field. “Heads up, lover boy.”

Draco turned back to find Potter hurtling towards them, the snitch at the edge of the pitch where they sat in the stands. With his Quidditch robes flying behind him and a fierce determination in his eyes, Potter looked like a dream. In fact, Draco had had this very dream, maybe with a few minor adjustments to the rest of Potter’s clothing. (What clothing?)

Potter’s hand closed around the snitch – close enough that Draco could have leaned forward and snatched it up himself – and a low hissing sound escaped his mouth. Draco felt the sound in his entire body.

Potter twisted his broom with ease, avoiding impact with the stand, and flew back to his team, his hand raised high, showing off his win.

Draco slumped back – he had somehow found himself at the very tip of his seat, leaning into the pitch. His heart pounded against his chest, as if it wished to escape.

“What was that?” Blaise asked.

Draco waved a hand dismissively, focusing on calming his heartbeat. “It’s parseltongue. Potter use to – does speak it.”

“That’s not what I –“ Blaise paused. His voice grew mocking. “Oh no.”

Draco looked over to Blaise, alarmed. “What?”

Blaise smiled – it stretched over his face slowly. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t!” Draco crossed his legs nervously. He immediately regretted it when Blaise’s eyes were drawn to the action, widening at the implication.

“You did!” Blaise clapped his hands together. He was enjoying this. “You pervert! Potter’s snake tongue has got you all hot and bothered.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Draco insisted. “Why would – “ Draco spotted Potter flying back up to the stand and his voice faltered. The snitch was nowhere to be seen.

Blaise leaned into Draco to whisper: “Better keep your legs crossed.”

Draco blushed. “I AM NOT HA - Potter!” Draco yelled as Potter approached. “Good catch.” Great form. Amazing body.

Potter dismounted his broom, considerably less gracefully then he flew. “Thanks, Malfoy” he said, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you were - I mean, did you want to play? Is that why you’re here? Because I can – “

“I’m fine,” Draco interrupted. He didn’t fancy making a fool of himself.

“Draco prefers to watch,” Blaise added. Draco shot him a murderous look. Blaise. Was. Dead.

Luckily, Potter didn’t catch on to the meaning. He shuffled on the spot. “Oh, okay then. If you change your mind, let – “

“Why do you - when you - why do you do that?” Draco blurted out before Potter could leave.

Potter tilted his head, staring at Draco intently with puckered eyebrows, confusion clear on his face.

“He means why do you speaks parseltongue when you catch the snitch,” Blaise translated.

Potter’s face relaxed; he laughed sheepishly. “You heard that? It’s just something that happens when I’m not concentrating on what I’m saying.” Potter paused to think about it. “You know, when I’m reacting instinctively.”

“Reacting instinctively hmm?” Blaise repeated, his whole face alight. “That must happen quite a bit huh, Potter?” Blaise said with a painfully obvious wink, nudging Draco as he did.

“Yeah, actually, it’s – “ Blaise’s implication must have hit Potter a second too late. He fumbled over his words. “What are you - Oh I didn’t mean - that’s not - I mean, you don’t need to - um.” Potter closed his mouth firmly, a blush creeping over his cheeks. Draco could see the cogs in Potter’s mind working overtime, trying to find an escape. Draco felt quite the same way. Blaise was worse than dead.

“I should get back to the team,” Potter said, after a telling pause, mounting his broom.

“Bye, Potter,” Blaise said sweetly. “Draco looks forward to the opportunity to hear your parseltongue once more.”

Potter hissed again, low and breathy. Draco didn’t require a translation to know Potter was swearing.

“He means during Quidditch,” Draco quickly covered up, crossing his legs tighter and internally vowing to destroy Blaise for the most mortifying experience of his life.

“No I – “

Draco clapped a hand over Blaise’s mouth before he could ruin Draco’s day further. Draco tried to smile at Potter, his face burning.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Potter said, his face just as aflame as Draco’s. “Our next Quidditch meet,” he explained when Draco remained silent.

Draco nodded a little too enthusiastically once he understood Potter’s meaning, already anticipating the next time he might hear Potter make that hissing sound again. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Potter.”

more like this l @queenofthyme

Here’s the thing.

I am a transgender man (see photo of my mug for context).

I love all trans people and I love non binary people. But lately some of my trans spaces (both on the web and irl) that are mainly non binary have started to feel a little hostile.

I want to make something perfectly clear before I continue - I love and respect non binary people, I think their genders are valid and I am in no way suggesting they are any less important that myself or any other binary trans person. I also need you to understand that this isn’t meant to be a post calling out non binary people at all, it is just me talking about my personal experiences in the hope that it can get people to be a little more considerate sometimes?

In university spaces, it seems that there is a growing population of non binary people that tends to dominate trans groups. Which is good in lots of ways, especially since it shows how this generation has become much more relaxed and aware that gender is a construct and fluidity is key. However, amongst people I know there is a lot of ‘ew gross men’, or 'ew gross trans men that are masculine’, while at the same time being predominantly DFAB populations.

Now trust me, I very much understand the dislike a lot of dfab trans people have of men. A lot of us are survivors and I think that does play a big part in how we feel about the gender overall. Not to mention it is not uncommon for men to be, for lack of a better word- wankers. However, I don’t think people consider trans men when we are talking about this.

Making a comment like 'ew men are so fucking gross’ to a room of trans people means that to a trans man you are saying one of two things - 1) you are gross, or 2) you aren’t gross because you’re not a Real Man, and you are excluded from this statement because you are and always will be, partly a woman. Even now I feel uncomfortable 'complaining’ about this. I have to remind myself that just as suggesting that a trans woman is somehow different to other women would be considered incredibly offensive, so is it for trans men.

I didn’t realise how much this stuff affected me until it did. Constantly being around people that talk about, how body hair on men is gross, masculinity is by default toxic, making jokes about my masculinity being toxic when I excitedly tell people that I’ve started going to the gym and its making me feel better about my body. No, it’s not funny. It’s MY dysphoria I’m trying to ease. I as a trans person want to feel supported and loved when I do things that have a chance of making me feel good about my body.

It hit me like a brick wall when I realised how much it had affected me. I was with my partner, and was trying to have sex, but I just broke down. I felt so incredibly disgusted with my body and myself. So much hair, so masculine. The noises I made, gross. The way I touched him, creepy. I couldn’t get out of my head the idea that later in life he would talk to people about how gross and unshaven I was, just like I had heard friends describe ex boyfriends so many times before.

I felt cheated because these were the changes I WANTED my body to make. But now they felt ruined. Spoiled.
It was after that realisation that I decided I had to get out. I stopped going to some of student socials and instead started attending a group for older trans people. It was so refreshing to meet other trans men for once (just because I rarely meet them at uni, and it was nice to talk to someone similar.) It was awesome to be around people who weren’t shitty about trans people being stealth (as I remember I once was.)

There are some important things to take away from all of this:

1) Telling trans boys and men that they are disgusting for wanting to be like men will only destroy self esteem and feed into the toxic environment that a lot of cis boys grow up in.

2) Non binary people are extremely valid and awesome, but also must accept they have a responsibility to cultivate a supportive and friendly atmosphere in spaces where they are dominant (I put this in here for university spaces especially)

3) Laughing at a trans man/woman for being excessively masc/fem presenting if you are a dfab nb person who mainly presents as fem or androgynous is facetious and not respecting that they may have to present that way to stay safe, (especially in the case of trans women that may be more 'obviously trans’) and that despite suffering prejudice in many ways, the one thing you are not realistically facing is street violence and such because you inevitably are not going to be clocked as trans. (which yes, does NOT make your transness invalid but we have to respect the different struggles people in our community face.)

4) Someone being stealth does not mean they are adhering to 'toxic gender roles’. It means they are either 1) trying to be safe or 2) surprise surprise they want to live their life as the gender they identify with. Trans people are not less legitimately trans because you think they are 'acting cis’.

5) Being a binary trans person does not give you privilege over nb people. Like seriously, trans women are literally the most likely to be murdered. Don’t be a dick. Erasure is a problem yes but it’s not the same. I read names out at the TDOR vigil and pretty much all of them were trans women of colour. Respect that. Help the community. This isn’t about scoring points over who has it the shittiest.

6) The idea that the only good kinda of trans men are 'soft sensitive kinda trans masc guys that don’t have surgeries and shave all their body hair’ is shitty and offensive (tho that kind of trans man is totally valid, that not what i mean). Its shitty because one you’re sexualising them either as more childlike or more feminine (both is rude, former is creepy), but its perpetuating the idea that trans men aren’t really men and the best ones are the ones that YOU think still kinda look suitably enough like women.

splinter (m)

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: angst, non-explicit smut / college au

» word count: 6,518

» description: Perhaps in their last moments together, the pieces won’t seem so broken. That maybe even with their jaded hearts they can salvage some replica of what it all once was. 

» note: there are mentions of cheating in this story

People love to talk about the ‘what ifs.’

What if they had just kept going, what if they had chosen a different path, what if things had just gone the way they had so desperately wanted them to? Humans torture themselves with these thoughts, all while urgently grappling at the threads of their memories that led to the fork in the road where things went awry. They ponder them tirelessly, wondering if they could’ve done something different, only to realize in the end that it didn’t matter because what was done was done. It was that simple, yet again, people still loved to talk, ponder, and torture themselves with the possibility of what if — However, in your personal experience, there was something much worse.

There was a sub-group of sorts to the what-ifs, called the ‘almosts.’ Almosts are burning flames of misery because they tease you by getting so heartbreakingly close to what you wanted. They were in your reach, resting on the tip of your tongue, only to dissipate before you could swallow it down and make it yours.

So yeah, you weren’t a fan of the-almosts. But what you were even less keen on was being in the same room as your almost, the thread of memories making the air thick as it wrapped its way around your throat.

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“My Neighbor’s A Jerk” Part 8

Summary: Modern-Day (AU) There’s this mutual feeling between you and your neighbor, called hate. And since your first meet you both commence that feeling with a burning passion. You don’t know the reason behind his hate and you know for damn sure that he will never tell you. But what happens on the first day of your job, when you find out that you even work together? Maybe you will learn to co-operate?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5018

Warnings: the usual jerk!Bucky is back, new character (yes it’s a warning), drinking and that’s it 

Author’s Note: hey long time no see lol so here’s the longest chapter so far of MNAJ, i hope you guys enjoy i had to literally push myself to finish it so please please please leave a FEEDBACK if you’re gonna read it!!

i will be altering the tag list and deleting those who don’t care to leave feedback sorry, but i can’t waste my time on tagging a hundred people when some of you don’t even care to write back simple as that :/

“My Neighbor’s A Jerk” Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

(gif isn’t mine)

You immediately straighten your back, eyes and ears alert like a deer caught in headlights. You look back and forth between Steve and Bucky, unable to move or speak.

“Uh – me? Why?” you squeak out. Bucky simply shrugs, closing the door but stands outside for you. You glance at Steve once before getting up from your chair.

“I have this under control, go.” Steve says, nodding his head in the direction of the exit.

You give him a tight lipped smile and rub your palms on your skirt before moving. Outside, Bucky tells you that he’s asked to accompany you, too as you start walking towards the elevator. Once you walk inside, he presses the number to Stark’s floor.

Once again, the confined space of the elevator suffocates you. You’re vividly reminded of the day when Bucky had pulled you inside the same elevator, protecting you from getting your ass fired. But why is this happening again? Why did Stark call you two? Has by any chance Bucky told him? Even after telling you so many times that he won’t?

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