and you can tell that by putting the light on so like

Today’s highlights in my ongoing project to read through and transcribe the letters of Rachel (a wealthy Victorian girl at boarding school on the East Coast in the 1890s) include…

  • Rachel’s cousin Will and his Yale roommate Allen both have the measles. Rachel shows limited sympathy (”Poor boy!”), before immediately mocking them and calling them “childish” for getting a disease only little kids get.
  • Rachel and her roommate “B” (It stands for Bertha!) attempted to steal a sign (what sort idk) from a fair they went to but found they “were carefully guarded”. She wishes Will could have been there to help.
  • Will has a crush on a girl named Jenny, who Rachel knows, and is constantly asking Rachel if Jenny has mentioned him.
  • “B” often sits next to Rachel as she writes and suggests things to add to the letter or just generally distracts her.
  • Will and Jack, who are brothers, don’t write to each other. They write to Rachel and tell her to write to the other and pass on a message for them. Rachel keeps asking why they do this, but goes along with it anyways.
  • Rachel always explains why there are ink blots or areas of sloppy writing in her letters. Explanations so far include such classics as: the dinner bell just rang, it’s after lights-out and I’m writing this in the dark, “B” is shaking my arm, “B” is kissing me, this pen is broken, the postman is almost here, and there was a bee.
  • For her 18th birthday Rachel received: a new Kodak camera, eighteen white rosebuds, silver manicure scissors, a pair of shell side combs, a silver pencil, and a vase of pink roses. However her favorite present was from her father who wrote to say she could just buy her own present and he would pay for it.
  • Rachel is always mentioning the pictures she takes with her Kodak. I wish I knew what happened to them. 
  • In addition to Calvé, Marlowe and Sothern, Rachel has now also gone to see performances by Ellen Terry, Henry Irving, John Philip Sousa, Ignacy Jan Paderewski (playing the piano, not governing Poland), and freaking Sarah Bernhardt! 
  • Rachel likes to put question marks in the middle of sentences to denote sarcasm; i.e. “I am very ? sorry for you.” and “Men were not excluded and we had the pleasure ? of meeting several.”
  • Your 1890s slang word of the day: “squelch” (verb) - to be lectured or punished for something. Example: “I expect to be squelched unmercifully by mama and papa.”  Can also be used as a noun as in: “This term we have had nothing but squelches.”

Aries: you’re faking happiness, again. With that big smile that I don’t believe in, even when you smile you want to cry. Don’t lie to me, I can hear it in your voice when you’re sad. You may fake your happiness but you’re unhappy in general because you keep trying to please everyone even when you say you don’t care what anyone thinks anymore.

Taurus: you’re forgetting to take care of yourself, you’re forgetting to stop and smell the flowers. You’re forgetting yourself because there are millions of other people who need help, but hey. Save the world: start with yourself.

Gemini: stop trying to please everyone and then go along with their plans like someone blinded you. You have your own opinions, plans. Use your voice, live. Communicate with everyone and show them what you’re good at because love, you’re burning out.

Cancer: the stars shine for you again, you’re in such a contradict with yourself and your mind. You’re stuck in a spiderweb, speaking words of dust and cobwebs. I’m afraid I can’t save you, the spider’s dead. Save yourself because last time I looked in your eyes and I lost everything, I lost everything.

Leo: call that friend you’ve been forgetting, they’re missing you. People need you more than you realize. People miss you when you don’t talk to them just like you miss them. Don’t put yourself down love.

Virgo: I always forget the coldness of your hands but I swear that when I touch you my fingers split open with pain. Something so painful is yet so beautiful. And I always dreamed of fairtytales until I saw your face and was reminded that they’re not real. They’re not real; but you’re pretty damn close.

Libra: the jewelry around your neck doesn’t make me wander me from your fake smile and glossy eyes. You’re strong, but you’ve been over this path of glass one too many times and the shards always make you bleed. I know familiarity is important for you but why don’t you try the path with warm sand instead? You keep making yourself bleed.

Scorpio: you won’t find yourself or your confidence when you keep hiding your face under the lid of your hoodie darling. You’re beautiful, dare to be brave, open. Shock them all with your contagious smile. They don’t need to understand, happiness is not understandable. It’s beautiful, like you. Be your unpredictable self.

Sagittarius: the moon slips ink down your throat and you keep choking on the lies you tell to keep yourself save. I have an adventure for you and it starts at the top of your personality and ends and your lifeline: seek your heartbeat, find your faith.

Capricorn: for the last time, you’re more important than you think you are. You’re worth more than they’ll ever know. There’s not much to say, the seas are spotted red and your eyes always end up getting lost in it at the end of the night. It’s alright because for the thousandth time, there’s someone by your side.

Aquarius: the unfamiliarity of the sunset that lights fires in your heart may be a welcome surprise but your hands are still cold and winter is about to make things a whole lot more chilly. Find a home, you’re save when you’re there.

Pisces: you’re making mistakes I don’t understand but I am not the one to judge for I don’t know the things in your head. And I will try my best and say I do the best that I can but I can’t defend your actions, you’re too special to go down for this.

okay but can we talk about the fact that the scene keith chose for “not relating to people” was a scene between him and lance from season 1??????

you can tell he is trying so hard to connect to lance at that moment and bond with him. and keith still thinks about this moment, even months later. trying to connect with lance means so much to keith. like imagine how frustrated he must be, feeling like he can’t connect with him. 

this really shines some light on the bedroom scene.  his vlog really shows how much pressure he is putting on himself to connect with lance. the “leave the math to pidge” comment is so awkward but keith was really trying with that line. like after lance left the room i wouldn’t be surprised if keith just sat on his bed for a while, analyzing how that went and how it could have gone better. he’s trying so goddamn hard omg.

Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes

by Stephen King
(reprinted in Sylvia K. Burack, ed. The Writer’s Handbook. Boston, MA: Writer, Inc., 1988: 3-9)

I. The First Introduction

THAT’S RIGHT. I know it sounds like an ad for some sleazy writers’ school, but I really am going to tell you everything you need to pursue a successful and financially rewarding career writing fiction, and I really am going to do it in ten minutes, which is exactly how long it took me to learn.  It will actually take you twenty minutes or so to read this essay, however, because I have to tell you a story, and then I have to write a second introduction.  But these, I argue, should not count in the ten minutes.



II. The Story, or, How Stephen King Learned to Write

When I was a sophomore in high school, I did a sophomoric thing which got me in a pot of fairly hot water, as sophomoric didoes often do.  I wrote and published a small satiric newspaper called The Village Vomit.  In this little paper I lampooned a number of teachers at Lisbon (Maine) High School, where I was under instruction.  These were not very gentle lampoons; they ranged from the scatological to the downright cruel

Eventually, a copy of this little newspaper found its way into the hands of a faculty member, and since I had been unwise enough to put my name on it (a fault, some critics argue, of which I have still not been entirely cured), I was brought into the office. The sophisticated satirist had by that time reverted to what he really was: a fourteen-year-old kid who was shaking in his boots and wondering if he was going to get a suspension … what we called “a three-day vacation” in those dim days of 1964.

I wasn’t suspended. I was forced to make a number of apologies - they were warranted, but they still tasted like dog-dirt in my mouth - and spent a week in detention hall. And the guidance counselor arranged what he no doubt thought of as a more constructive channel for my talents. This was a job - contingent upon the editor’s approval - writing sports for the Lisbon Enterprise, a twelve-page weekly of the sort with which any small-town resident will be familiar. This editor was the man who taught me everything I know about writing in ten minutes. His name was John Gould - not the famed New England humorist or the novelist who wrote The Greenleaf Fires, but a relative of both, I believe.

He told me he needed a sports writer and we could “try each other out” if I wanted.

I told him I knew more about advanced algebra than I did sports.

Gould nodded and said, “You’ll learn.”

I said I would at least try to learn. Gould gave me a huge roll of yellow paper and promised me a wage of 1/2¢ per word. The first two pieces I wrote had to do with a high school basketball game in which a member of my school team broke the Lisbon High scoring record. One of these pieces was straight reportage. The second was a feature article.

I brought them to Gould the day after the game, so he’d have them for the paper, which came out Fridays. He read the straight piece, made two minor corrections, and spiked it. Then he started in on the feature piece with a large black pen and taught me all I ever needed to know about my craft. I wish I still had the piece - it deserves to be framed, editorial corrections and all - but I can remember pretty well how it looked when he had finished with it. Here’s an example:

(note: this is before the edit marks indicated on King’s original copy)

Last night, in the well-loved gymnasium of Lisbon High School, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom, known as “Bullet” Bob for both his size and accuracy, scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his knight-like quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon thinclads since 1953….

(after edit marks)

Last night, in the Lisbon High School gymnasium, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon’s basketball team since 1953….

When Gould finished marking up my copy in the manner I have indicated above, he looked up and must have seen something on my face. I think he must have thought it was horror, but it was not: it was revelation.

“I only took out the bad parts, you know,” he said. “Most of it’s pretty good.”

“I know,” I said, meaning both things: yes, most of it was good, and yes, he had only taken out the bad parts. “I won’t do it again.”

“If that’s true,” he said, “you’ll never have to work again. You can do this for a living.” Then he threw back his head and laughed.

And he was right; I am doing this for a living, and as long as I can keep on, I don’t expect ever to have to work again.



III. The Second Introduction

All of what follows has been said before. If you are interested enough in writing to be a purchaser of this magazine, you will have either heard or read all (or almost all) of it before. Thousands of writing courses are taught across the United States each year; seminars are convened; guest lecturers talk, then answer questions, then drink as many gin and tonics as their expense-fees will allow, and it all boils down to what follows.

I am going to tell you these things again because often people will only listen - really listen - to someone who makes a lot of money doing the thing he’s talking about. This is sad but true. And I told you the story above not to make myself sound like a character out of a Horatio Alger novel but to make a point: I saw, I listened, and I learned. Until that day in John Gould’s little office, I had been writing first drafts of stories which might run 2,500 words. The second drafts were apt to run 3,300 words. Following that day, my 2,500-word first drafts became 2,200-word second drafts. And two years after that, I sold the first one.

So here it is, with all the bark stripped off. It’ll take ten minutes to read, and you can apply it right away…if you listen.



IV. Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully

1.  BE TALENTED
This, of course, is the killer.  What is talent?  I can hear someone shouting, and here we are, ready to get into a discussion right up there with “what is the meaning of life?” for weighty pronouncements and total uselessness.  For the purposes of the beginning writer, talent may as well be defined as eventual success - publication and money.  If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn’t bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.

Now some of you are really hollering.  Some of you are calling me one crass money-fixated creep.  And some of you are calling me bad names.  Are you calling Harold Robbins talented?  someone in one of the Great English Departments of America is screeching.  V.C. Andrews?  Theodore Dreiser?  Or what about you, you dyslexic moron?

Nonsense.  Worse than nonsense, off the subject.  We’re not talking about good or bad here.  I’m interested in telling you how to get your stuff published, not in critical judgments of who’s good or bad.  As a rule the critical judgments come after the check’s been spent, anyway.  I have my own opinions, but most times I keep them to myself.  People who are published steadily and are paid for what they are writing may be either saints or trollops, but they are clearly reaching a great many someones who want what they have.  Ergo, they are communicating.  Ergo, they are talented.  The biggest part of writing successfully is being talented, and in the context of marketing, the only bad writer is one who doesn’t get paid.  If you’re not talented, you won’t succeed.  And if you’re not succeeding, you should know when to quit.

When is that?  I don’t know.  It’s different for each writer.  Not after six rejection slips, certainly, nor after sixty.  But after six hundred?  Maybe.  After six thousand?  My friend, after six thousand pinks, it’s time you tried painting or computer programming.

Further, almost every aspiring writer knows when he is getting warmer - you start getting little jotted notes on your rejection slips, or personal letters…maybe a commiserating phone call.  It’s lonely out there in the cold, but there are encouraging voices…unless there is nothing in your words which warrants encouragement.  I think you owe it to yourself to skip as much of the self-illusion as possible.  If your eyes are open, you’ll know which way to go…or when to turn back.

2.  BE NEAT
Type.  Double-space.  Use a nice heavy white paper, never that erasable onion-skin stuff.  If you’ve marked up your manuscript a lot, do another draft.

3.  BE SELF-CRITICAL
If you haven’t marked up your manuscript a lot, you did a lazy job.  Only God gets things right the first time.  Don’t be a slob.

4.  REMOVE EVERY EXTRANEOUS WORD
You want to get up on a soapbox and preach?  Fine.  Get one and try your local park.  You want to write for money?  Get to the point.  And if you remove all the excess garbage and discover you can’t find the point, tear up what you wrote and start all over again…or try something new.

5.  NEVER LOOK AT A REFERENCE BOOK WHILE DOING A FIRST DRAFT You want to write a story?  Fine.  Put away your dictionary, your encyclopedias, your World Almanac, and your thesaurus.  Better yet, throw your thesaurus into the wastebasket.  The only things creepier than a thesaurus are those little paperbacks college students too lazy to read the assigned novels buy around exam time.  Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word.  There are no exceptions to this rule.  You think you might have misspelled a word?  O.K., so here is your choice: either look it up in the dictionary, thereby making sure you have it right - and breaking your train of thought and the writer’s trance in the bargain - or just spell it phonetically and correct it later.  Why not?  Did you think it was going to go somewhere?  And if you need to know the largest city in Brazil and you find you don’t have it in your head, why not write in Miami, or Cleveland?  You can check it…but laterWhen you sit down to write, write.  Don’t do anything else except go to the bathroom, and only do that if it absolutely cannot be put off.

6.  KNOW THE MARKETS
Only a dimwit would send a story about giant vampire bats surrounding a high school to McCall’s.  Only a dimwit would send a tender story about a mother and daughter making up their differences on Christmas Eve to Playboy…but people do it all the time.  I’m not exaggerating; I have seen such stories in the slush piles of the actual magazines.  If you write a good story, why send it out in an ignorant fashion?  Would you send your kid out in a snowstorm dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tank top?  If you like science fiction, read the magazines.  If you want to write confession stories, read the magazines.  And so on.  It isn’t just a matter of knowing what’s right for the present story; you can begin to catch on, after awhile, to overall rhythms, editorial likes and dislikes, a magazine’s entire slant.  Sometimes your reading can influence the next story, and create a sale.

7.  WRITE TO ENTERTAIN
Does this mean you can’t write “serious fiction”?  It does not.  Somewhere along the line pernicious critics have invested the American reading and writing public with the idea that entertaining fiction and serious ideas do not overlap.  This would have surprised Charles Dickens, not to mention Jane Austen, John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, Bernard Malamud, and hundreds of others.  But your serious ideas must always serve your story, not the other way around.  I repeat: if you want to preach, get a soapbox.

8.  ASK YOURSELF FREQUENTLY, AM I HAVING FUN?”
The answer needn’t always be yes.  But if it’s always no, it’s time for a new project or a new career.

9.  HOW TO EVALUATE CRITICISM
Show your piece to a number of people - ten, let us say.  Listen carefully to what they tell you.  Smile and nod a lot.  Then review what was said very carefully.  If your critics are all telling you the same thing about some facet of your story - a plot twist that doesn’t work, a character who rings false, stilted narrative, or half a dozen other possibles - change that facet.  It doesn’t matter if you really liked that twist of that character; if a lot of people are telling you something is wrong with you piece, it is.  If seven or eight of them are hitting on that same thing, I’d still suggest changing it.  But if everyone - or even most everyone - is criticizing something different, you can safely disregard what all of them say.

10.  OBSERVE ALL RULES FOR PROPER SUBMISSION
Return postage, self-addressed envelope, all of that.

11.  AN AGENT?  FORGET IT.  FOR NOW
Agents get 10% of monies earned by their clients.  10% of nothing is nothing.  Agents also have to pay the rent.  Beginning writers do not contribute to that or any other necessity of life.  Flog your stories around yourself.  If you’ve done a novel, send around query letters to publishers, one by one, and follow up with sample chapters and/or the manuscript complete.  And remember Stephen King’s First Rule of Writers and Agents, learned by bitter personal experience: You don’t need one until you’re making enough for someone to steal…and if you’re making that much, you’ll be able to take your pick of good agents.

12.  IF IT’S BAD, KILL IT
When it comes to people, mercy killing is against the law.  When it comes to fiction, it is the law.



That’s everything you need to know.  And if you listened, you can write everything and anything you want.  Now I believe I will wish you a pleasant day and sign off.

My ten minutes are up.

We're Already Married

So, I am supposed to be working on a chapter of a story and an angsty oneshot. But this fluffy drabble had to be written. It just had to.
——–


               “Draco, we need to talk.” Lucius told his son firmly as he and Narcissa walked into the room.

                “Mhm. Go ahead.” Came the little three-year-old’s distracted voice.

                Lucius rolled his eyes before stepping behind his son and peering down. “What in heaven’s name is that?”

                That had Narcissa circling the table and looking at her son’s face. His tongue was peeking out of his lips, eyes were narrowed in concentration while brows were furrowed and he seemed to be drawing something on a spare piece of parchment. She blinked uncertainly at the pure disaster of scribbles that were everywhere. If it wasn’t supposed to be a ball of rubbish, she honestly had no idea what her son was attempting to draw.

                “It’s Dobby. Can’t you tell?” Draco looked up with a wobbly lip and sad eyes as he pointed across the room to the house elf. As if the thought of it not looking like Dobby was a disaster.

                Lucius looked over for the first time and noted that the elf was in an odd pose with an apple balancing on his forehead.

                At his arched brows, Dobby hurried to explain. “Master Draco asked Dobby to be his muse.”

                “Is that so?” Lucius drawled with a heavy sigh. “Draco, you can’t order Dobby to play with you.”

                “Why not?”  

                Patience was not Lucius’ strong suit. He looked to the ceiling briefly before shaking his head. “We will have this conversation at a later date. There are more important things to discuss.”

                Draco hummed a little before looking up with wide eyes. “Am I in twouble? If so, Dobby did it.”

                A soft surprised noise emitted from the elf and Narcissa couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “No, you aren’t in trouble and don’t blame Dobby for things he didn’t do.”

                “Sowwy.” Draco apologized as he looked down at his hands.

                “Sorry.” Lucius corrected. For some reason, pronouncing R’s were hard for his son.

                Draco’s brows were pinched in confusion. “That’s what I said.”

                “No, you said—” Lucius paused as he decided to let it go. “Nevermind. What I have been trying to tell you is that we have come to discuss a pureblood tradition with you.”

                That had Draco’s expression souring. “No thanks.”

                Narcissa covered her mouth as she tried muffling her laughter. Salazar, she loved her son.

                “Draco.” The hard tone of his voice had his son straightening up and giving him a serious look. Finally.

                “When you come of age, you will be drawn into a marriage contract. This is something that most purebloods do and it is a standing tradition of the Malfoy family.” Lucius shot is wife a look when she crossed her arms. He knew that she didn’t agree and wanted Draco to find his own spouse but that wasn’t the plan.

                “I’m alweady mawried.” Draco interrupted excitedly!

                Lucius blinked rapidly. “You want to run that by me again?”

                “Hawwy asked me to mawwy him today! I said I would if he let me have his pudding. He did!”

                “And who pray tell is Hawwy?” Lucius shuddered at the pronunciation.

                “Hawwy is my best fwriend. He has pwetty eyes and he said I do too! We are mawried.”

                Narcissa smirked at her husband. “You hear that? He’s already married. Looks like that marriage contract is moot.”

                “Narcissa, you can’t possibly—”

                She stood up rapidly, holding out her hand for her son to take. “I can and I will. You want to explain to your son why he can’t marry his best friend? Because if so, you can deal with the aftermath.”

                Draco looked between them rapidly. “But…” His eyes filled with tears. “We alweady mawried.” The sniffle he released had Lucius closing his eyes. “Tomorrow’s the anni- anniver-” He scrunched up his nose as he looked to Narcissa for help.

                “Anniversary?” She offered picking him up and holding him close.

                Draco nodded rapidly as he wiped his eyes. “Yes. I want to give him a gift.”

                Narcissa smiled softly. “How about we go see if we can have one of the house elves cook him something. What kind of desserts does he like?”

                “Tweacle tawrt.”

                Lucius watched his wife and son walk out of the room with a shake of his head. He looked over and noticed that Dobby was still in the same awful pose. “Cease that at once.”

                When the elf let out a noise of relief, Lucius rolled his eyes. “What are the chances that I’ll get my way in the end?”

                He knew that Dobby couldn’t lie to him, so he was interested in hearing the response.

                The *pop* of the elf’s departure was heard and it had Lucius putting his face in his hands. “That’s what I was afraid of.”


Keep reading

LIBRA: Occasionally you have to fake it until you make it. I know that this is a cliche you’ve heard many times before, but have you ever actually tried it? Cliches don’t become ‘cliche’ unless a lot of people believe in what they’re implying. Feel free to test this, even if it’s just for a day or two. Pretend that you’re in the right career, pretend that you haven’t been sad at all for the last few weeks, pretend that you’re powerful and comfortable and know exactly who you are. Sometimes a little confidence, even if it begins as a front, is the final piece to the puzzle.

SCORPIO: You’ve had chains wrapped around your ankles for so long now that you hardly ever notice their weight anymore. Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful that you’ve found a way to cope with the things that try to drag you down. But it seems like you’ve become so complacent in this state of being that you’ve given up on escape. Like you’re an audience member to your own existence. But you aren’t, even though life comes at you so viciously sometimes. You are in charge of your body, and in charge of what you do with it. Now use it.

SAGITTARIUS: There’s always something about the early days of autumn that make you feel as though anything is possible, and this year you should take advantage of that. Now is not the time to play it safe or rein in your grand ideas: now is the time to give them life. You’ve become an expert at putting things on hold for circumstances that are outside of your control and putting an end to that is overdue. The world isn’t always going to give you a green light to move on, sometimes you have to build it yourself. Sometimes you just have to go for it.

CAPRICORN: The world is already cruel enough without adding your own self-doubt into the mix. I think it’s time that you start being kinder to yourself. You’ve been through so much, after all; nobody is expecting you to be perfect or be immune to making mistakes. Take some time to reward yourself for the positive things you’ve accomplished. Buy that coffee, watch that movie, put your feet up and relax. You are so good at making the people around you feel content, apply that talent to your own life.

AQUARIUS: There’s been so much in front of you lately, both positive and negative, that you’ve been letting everything behind you fade into the background. And while moving forward is necessary in order to survive, the things you’ve already experienced are learned lessons that you shouldn’t forget so easily. Do you remember the last thing you cried over? Do you remember why it made you so sad? Now, put that feeling in a bubble and don’t let yourself make the same choices that led you to that feeling. Your past matters, but it will never own you. There’s a difference.

PISCES: Life can be pretty overwhelming sometimes, can’t it? You aren’t overreacting if lately you’ve felt as though the planet has been taking a toll on you. Just remember, it’s good that you’re busy and that you’re involved with what’s going on around you. There was a time when a past version of yourself wouldn’t have dared to lay their heart out as boldly as you do now, and your progress is cause for celebration. Take everything one day at a time, if it’s getting to be too much. Breathe. Take breaks when needed. Persevere.

ARIES: Everything in your life feels like a big quilt of sorts, every event and person and memory connected to another by a few threads and some time. Lately you’ve found yourself wondering about what the significance of all of that is. But maybe the meaning isn’t within the connections themselves, but in the person that’s tied them all together. You have created a vast network of friends and feelings and you’ve brought positivity and good vibes to every link in this chain of relationships. These interconnected moments all call your heart home. Embrace their warmth.

TAURUS: So, you’re still attached to a lot of things that you thought you’d be disconnected from by now. There are still regrets and past lovers and half finished letters stuffed underneath your mattress and you’ve accepted that this is how it is. You’ve grown resigned to the fact that some things are impossible to move on from. But I’m here to tell you that nothing can keep you in its grasp unless part of you is letting it. If you own a pair of scissors, why aren’t you using them to cut the strings that are tied around you? What possible reason is there to keep suffering?

GEMINI: It’s easy to look in a mirror and point out the parts of yourself that make building relationships difficult. You find yourself constantly having to relearn how to touch people without hurting them or yourself in the process. It isn’t your fault that you’ve tried to give affection to people that are unworthy of it, it’s their fault for fooling you into thinking they deserved what you were providing. Just because this hasn’t been working out for you lately, doesn’t mean that it won’t ever. You are lovable even when nobody is loving you.

CANCER: Enjoying your accomplishments without thinking about the people that should be there celebrating with you is something that you still struggle with from time to time. It’s okay to be sad that there are certain moments you’ll never be able to share with those that would’ve understood your happiness; it isn’t fair that you’ve had to mourn so many missed opportunities. But don’t let what’s absent diminish your successes or make you feel as though you aren’t allowed to be proud of yourself. You’re thriving despite all of that negative space and it’s beautiful.

LEO: Nothing comes as a surprise to you anymore, but despite that you still find yourself stuck with unrealistic expectations at the end of the day. Either you know that you deserve better and you don’t want to admit it, or you’ve become so comfortable with being disappointed that you’re scared of being anything but. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. Maybe you know what you want and you know that you shouldn’t want it so you’re self-sabotaging any chance you’re given at obtaining happiness. I think that something inside of you knows the answers to these maybe’s. Let it out.

VIRGO: Self-preservation is an art form you’ve become incredibly dedicated to depicting. If your heart were a gallery, there’d be sculptures of brick walls lurking around every corner and self portraits donned with armor cluttering up the walls. There’s nothing wrong with putting yourself first, in fact I would encourage you to always do so. But be careful; there’s a fine line between prioritizing yourself over others and knowingly hurting others in the quest to better yourself. You have to find a balance between the two.

OCTOBER HOROSCOPES by Caitlin Conlon

waking up the wolf inside

[here’s the full story, thanks for reading!]

-

Derek Hale is two hours late. At each passing minute, Stiles feels angrier and the only reason he hasn’t left is because Derek needs to come home at some point and when he does, Stiles is going to yell at him so hard he’s going to give him this interview just to send Stiles away.

Stiles can be pretty annoying when he wants to, that’s how he gets most of his job done.

Derek Hale though, he’s been fucking infuriating. For starters he lives in the middle of nowhere, Stiles got lost twice before he found someone who actually knew where Derek’s freaking cabin is. And there’s also the fact that he’s a nobody - Stiles’ only picture of him is from his High School graduation, like, fifteen years ago.

And that’s the most fascinating thing – not many people know about him but the ones who do can’t stop praising his work. The guy is an angel, but instead of protecting people he protects wolves. According to Scott’s boss – who’s like, the one person who has seen Derek in person and can attest he’s real – Derek has a vet degree, doesn’t like people and built his own cabin in the woods. To live amongst the wolves.

Stiles needs to interview this guy. At first because he got curious about a thirty-one year old guy living alone and now it’s about pride. He doesn’t just spend two hours outside someone’s house, especially when it’s snowing.

“Come on.” He groans. It’s freaking Alaska. Angel or not – Derek Hale is also a huge dick.

Stiles is beginning to think about breaking into the guy’s house (he can’t feel his toes) when he hears a car and a minute later a battered truck is parking next to Stiles’ rental car.

The man who steps out looks nothing like the High School picture Stiles found. For starters he look like a mountain man with a beard that does nothing but make him look hotter, the jeans doesn’t leave much to imagination either when it comes to his ass and the huge winter coat only accentuates his broad shoulders.

Stiles swallows. “Hey!” He yells, watching as Derek opens the back door. “Derek Hale?” He can’t hide his groan when Derek barely spares him a glance. “Hey, it’s freaking freezing here, you know?”

Derek lets out a groan of his own as he lifts something in his arms and steps away from the car. “I know.” He walks towards the house and as he gets closer, Stiles notices Derek is carrying a wolf. “Now, help me out here, yeah?”

Stiles doesn’t even think twice before dropping his bag and stepping closer. “What can I do?”

“Grab the key,” Derek instructs, “it’s in my back pocket.”

Later, Stiles will want to hide his face in embarrassment but now he can only think about the poor wolf whining in Derek’s arms as he touches Derek’s ass to find the key to open Derek’s house.

Once inside, Derek deposits the wolf on the floor, wrapping him further with blankets and asks Stiles to light up the fire as he goes around the house collecting things. “Is he going to be okay?” Stiles asks as Derek kneels in front of the wolf and runs a soothing hand over his head.

“Hopefully.” Derek answers. “And it’s a girl.” He tells Stiles. “She’s in labor.”

What.” Stiles squeaks. “Really? But –”

“In the kitchen,” Derek interrupts him, “get some hot water, and close the fucking door.”

Stiles blinks, watches as Derek tells her everything is going to be okay. She’s obviously uncomfortable, but stops squirming when Derek smiles and runs his hands over her belly.

Water.” Derek growls.

“Right.” Stiles gets on his feet. He so didn’t sign up for this.


“So,” he collapses on the floor, “does this happen a lot?”

Derek collapses next to him, eyes on the mother wolf and her six pups. “Is this part of your interview?”

Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes. “No, this is just me trying not to freak out.” He turns to look at Derek – his eyes are green, he realizes, and beautiful, he adds mentally.

“No, this doesn’t happen often.” Derek answers, finally. “Thankfully.”

Stiles nods and smiles when Derek turn to him. “You’re amazing.” He blurts out and Derek blinks, surprised. “Anyway,” Stiles shakes his head, tries to pretend the butterflies in his stomach are just from the adrenaline rush, “we’ll have to postpone the interview, but I think that’s justifiable.” He gets up, looks at his hands and realizes they are covered in blood. Ew. “Uh, can I use your bathroom before I go?”

“Go?” Derek asks, standing up too.

“I’m gonna get a hotel in town.” The nearest town is two hours away, but what can you do? He glances at the sleeping wolves. It’s not like this was Derek’s fault. “I think.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Derek says, bluntly. Stiles snorts – yeah, Derek really doesn’t have a way with people. “I have a spare bedroom.”

Stiles smiles. “Thank you.” He says. “I don’t really like driving in the snow.”

“Who does.” Derek says, asks maybe. Stiles still doesn’t know him, but as he follows Derek up the stairs, he realizes he really wants to.

Keep reading

seven signs

Summary: Bucky feels like he’s falling in love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none - pure fluff!

Word Count: 2.1k [yikes, sorry]

A/N: Here’s my submission for the ever lovely Gen’s @bucky-plums-barnes 8k celebration - congrats again, sweetheart! My prompt was: “You know I only have eyes for you.” - hope you all enjoy :) || masterlist


Originally posted by minmiin1d


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msdistress said: I saw that civilized werewolves being super competitive when it comes to other packs, and now I can only imagine an AU where (adult) Stiles and Scott are renting a house together, and Derek moves in the same area. And while the McCall pack and the entire Hale pack (Talia, Laura, etc.) are on civilized terms, Scott and Derek just can’t help themselves. And maybe a part of the showing off is actually a way to impress (court) Stiles, as in “My lawn ornaments are much nicer than his!”

So this is kind of that, but kind of not? This is pretty silly :) Happy Halloween!


“You’re not dead,” Stiles says as Scott bangs open the door and shucks off his shoes in the next movement. They hit the wall and then bounce into an ungainly pile in the middle of the hallway that Liam will no doubt trip over when he gets home.

“Nope,” Scott says. He looks confused by that part.

“So… That’s good?” Stiles has pumpkin guts all over his hands, but offers Scott a fist bump anyway.

Scott follows Stiles back into the kitchen and then plops down across from Stiles’s half-finished jack-o-lanterns at the counter. He’s a couple weeks early, but Halloween has to be taken seriously. These are practice pumpkins.

Scott says, “It was weird. I think they’re all models. They force-fed me pie.”

Stiles arches a skeptical eyebrow.

“I mean, the pie was great,” Scott says, face screwed up. “I think they were happy I ate the whole thing?”

Werewolf metabolism, Stiles thinks sourly. He’s getting to that age where he has to watch his beer and pizza intake. It sucks. He says, “I’ll make them brownies,” and then apparently it becomes a thing.

*

Stiles doesn’t know if the Hale pack are actually all models, but they’re definitely taking the supernaturally hot thing to a whole other level.

Scott’s betas are reasonably attractive, sure, but Liam’s the size of a cave troll and Mason’s on this whole hippie-chic kick that makes him look like a train hobo.

Stiles holds out the plate of brownies and tries not to stare at Erica’s boobs. Boyd has the bulging chest of a roman gladiator and Stiles could cut his hands on Isaac’s cheekbones, it’s insane.

Stiles says, “Nice to meet you guys,” and Erica’s lip curls up and her hands hover around the plastic-wrapped plate like it’s made of poison and-or possibly oatmeal. He waggles the plate back and forth. “Promise they’re wolfsbane free.”

And then Jackson fucking Whittmore comes swanning down the staircase and Stiles says, “You’ve got to be shitting me. Jackson?”

“Stilinski,” Jackson says with a scowl.

“Lydia told us you got eaten by a giant lizard.”

Jackson scowls harder. “Fuck off.”

Stiles would like to say that the addition of Jackson makes the pack less appealing, but despite having the personality of a canned ham, Jackson still looks like he was carved out of marble. Balls.

And then someone says, “Do I smell chocolate?” from behind Stiles and he definitely does not jump three feet into the air, but it’s a close call.

He flinches and spins around and says, “Fuck my life.”

The hottest mountain man Stiles has ever seen is frowning at him and Stiles wants to bury his entire body in his beard. He wants to weasel his way under that soft-looking Henley and lick his collarbones. Stiles is ninety-nine percent sure this is Alpha Derek Hale, even though Scott had failed to prepare him for the way Derek’s eyes are eating Stiles’s soul.

Stiles wordlessly holds out the plate of brownies.

Derek takes them with a resigned silence. No one else is saying anything either, and the back of Stiles’s neck is starting to prickle with unease. Are they going to eat him now? They’d moved into town so Liam and Mason could go to the local college, expecting some kind of resistance, territorial posturing, possible brawl for dominance, but Scott had been tirelessly optimistic—even more so since the pie eating thing.

Stiles slinks around Derek, hands up. He says, “I’ll just, uh… leave now,” and backs down the sidewalk so he can see any kind of attack coming. He’s got a taser in his back pocket and he’s not afraid to use it.

The Hale pack all watch him with narrow, calculating eyes and Jackson gives him the finger.

Stiles thinks that if this is the way they react to brownies, he’s going to bake them a motherfucking cake.

Keep reading

A Little Description of The Signs

Aries: you’re faking happiness, again. With that big smile that I don’t believe in, even when you smile you want to cry. Don’t lie to me, I can hear it in your voice when you’re sad. You may fake your happiness but you’re unhappy in general because you keep trying to please everyone even when you say you don’t care what anyone thinks anymore.

Taurus: you’re forgetting to take care of yourself, you’re forgetting to stop and smell the flowers. You’re forgetting yourself because there are millions of other people who need help, but hey. Save the world: start with yourself.

Gemini: stop trying to please everyone and then go along with their plans like someone blinded you. You have your own opinions, plans. Use your voice, live. Communicate with everyone and show them what you’re good at because love, you’re burning out.

Keep reading

bleusarcelle  asked:

Oh oh oh oh!!!! For the prompt. How about a Klance video call where Lance is telling Keith all of their shows and Keith is like quiet but with a smile enjoying Lance's RAMBLING and they have a soft moment of.... Hey you are missed, u know that right? Kdksksksksikss idk.

HOLY SHIT YES. Yes i love this. Thank you Bleu for this premium suggestion


Keith’s fingers hover over the call button. He’s been doing this now every night for a week. Why is he nervous? Why can’t he summon the courage to just hit the damn button?

Just call him. Just call him. Just call him! 

He reprimands himself. His hands tremble and he sits down on his bed. 

What if he’s mad at me? What if they’ve moved on? Maybe it’s better if I stay quiet…

Keith sighs and goes to put his communicator anyway in his pocket. Just like he always does. The ship around him is silent. It’s always silent. His room is cold. 

In his gloved hands, his finger slips and his communicator screen lights up.

“Shit! Shitshitshitshit…” He grapples with the device, but before he can hang up, the ringing has stopped. A chipper voice rings out and he’s staring into familiar eyes.

“Keith?!” Lance answers. His eyes search Keith’s face and his surroundings. “Are you ok? Do you need…?”

“What? No, no, I’m fine, Lance. I’m ok.” Keith shushes. He can’t help the small smile that pulls on the corner of his lips. “I’m fine.”

“Oh thank god.” Lance sighs and rolls back on his bed. He closes his eyes. His heart still thunders in his chest. 

“You that worried about me?”

“More like I’m comfortable and didn’t want to go on a mission right now.” Lance smirks and chuckles quietly. Keith rolls his eyes. 

“So why’d you call anyway?”

This question trips Keith up. He hopes that Lance can’t see the blush that rises to his cheeks. That he doesn’t notice the way he fidgets with his hood. 

“Uh, I guess I just wanted to check in and see…” His voice trembles.

“Did you miss me?” Lance grins.

“No!” Keith snaps. Lance laughs.

“I… I dunno… I just….”

Lance hears the uncertainty in his voice. He watches Keith’s eyebrows crinkle together in frustration. Lance’s smile falters and his expression falls into one of gentle concern.

“Do you want me to tell you what the team’s been up to?” He offers. 

Keith sighs. He’s grateful for the change of subject and nods.

“Well we’ve made contact with the rebels and have been working together on some stuff. And oh my god, Keith, Keith you will not believe…” Lance sits up and excitedly talks to his communicator. 

“Keith, I swear to god, One of their captains is a dog!”

“Wait what?”

“I’m serious! One of their captains, she’s really cool by the way, she’s a straight up dog that walks around on two legs and talks and and… did you ever see Disney’s Robin Hood with the foxes?”

Keith blinks. Lance is going a mile a minute and it’s hard to keep up.

“Uh yeah?”

“It’s exactly like that! She looks like a character from that movie and everyone else is totally fine with it and isn’t even mentioning it, all the while I am freaking out because there is a race of goddamn space dogs.”

Keith laughs. A familiar warmth flickers in his chest.

“Oh! Oh! Sorry I totally forgot! We found Matt! Well Pidge did, but that’s besides the point…”

“Whoa what? You found…?”

“Yeah Pidge found her brother! He was with the rebels and she tracked him down! And now he hangs out with us and Pidge is just so happy. And Hunk has someone new to talk about nerdy stuff with. He seems cool, even if a bit delusional. He definitely has a thing for Allura and, oh man, that poor boy does not stand a chance.”

“Wow that’s … I can’t believe…” Keith sighs.

“Have you seen our shows?!” Lance beams into the camera. Again Keith is caught off guard. It takes him a moment to interpret what Lance just asked him.

“Oh!” His expression melts into a teasing smirk. “Oh… Oh I know about them. You’re quite the actor, Lance.”

“What can I say? I’m a natural.” Lance brushes his hair back and shoots a finger gun straight towards Keith.

“But they’re so much fun, dude. Like I just get such a rush from all the cheering you know? Like it’s been really amazing to inspire people and talk to fans directly. And the coalition is stronger than ever! 

Shiro’s been such a good sport about all this. Like I can tell he’s uncomfortable? But he really throws himself into it, and the fans all love him. Well of course they would, he’s Shiro. Oh! And you should see the way little girls all run up to Allura afterwards. She uses your name in the script, but these kids aren’t fooled.”

Lance continues to rant about their antics. About how they rehearse, and Lance had a fair bit of input to his choreography. About how it all ended with them actually fighting a monster in an arena, and Allura doing the sweetest backwards flip kick Lance has ever seen.

A lump forms in Keith’s throat.

“I think I needed a different outfit for my rope routine. The armour was a bit clunky, and you know… I should really give the fans what they want.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry I missed it. You’ll have to give me a private show sometime.” Keith smiles.

Lance looks at him in shock. A blush rushes to his ears and his mouth opens into a wild smile.

“Did you just…?!”

“Oh my god!” Keith yanks his hood over his face. He’s just realised what he may have implied.

“I didn’t mean…! God, Lance! Not like that!” He shouts, but he can’t help the giggles that burst from his chest. He can hear Lance’s laughter matching his own.

“Can you get me a cool Blade of Marmara outfit to do it in?” Lance chuckles. He sighs as he catches his breath.

“I don’t think I can just take one.”

“Shame. I really like them.” Lance chews his lip. “You look really cool.” 

Keith ignores the way that makes the ache in his chest throb. He shakes his head and tries to hide how flustered he feels with a laugh.

“It uh… it sounds like you guys are going really well.”

“Yeah.” Lance sighs. He brushes his hand through his hair. “We’re uh… we’re doing good stuff, but…”

A heavy silence falls between them. Lance feels the words on the tip of his tongue. He knows what he wants to say, but is suddenly embarrassed to say them. His relationship with Keith is precarious and he worries that his next word might send them over the edge. He swallows.

“But I really wish you were there.” His voice is hushed. He averts his eyes from the communicator. 

“We miss you Keith. I know you’re doing important work, and I know that you’re helping us by helping the blades, but we just…” He stammers. “I…I just…”

He accidentally meets Keith’s eyes. The reality that Keith is on the other side of the galaxy hits him like a crashing wave. 

“I’ll never replace you. We’re a team.” His breath shudders.

“Lance, I…”

“Please come home.” Lance presses his eyes closed. “We all worry. And Red asks about you and, and…” His fingers grip at his jacket. “Don’t stay gone forever. … okay?”

 Keith sighs. His eyes begin to sting and he can feel his resolve crumbling. He briefly thinks about where the pods on his current ship are located before he pushes it out of his mind. 

No. He can’t run back now. Not yet. 

“I’ll be back.”

“Stay safe,”

“I will.” Keith nods solemnly.

Lance hangs up the call and stares down at his communicator. His hands fist into his sheets and his mouth twists into a scowl.

“You’re lying.” 

What’s Mine

An Alpha!Bucky One Shot

Character Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Female Omega!Reader

Word Count: 3,511

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! Oral (female receiving), face sitting, fingering, sexual penetration, A/B/O dynamics, knotting during a heat, dirty talk, language, a NSFW gif, some mild violence, hostage situation, angst and fluff. Whew.

A/N: I like Loki… I just needed a villian. 

You stole from me.

So, I stole from you.

Time is ticking.

Her clock stops at midnight.

Bucky let the cell phone drop from his hands. He heard the screen shatter when it hit the pavement. He looked down at the glass shards that scattered across his boots. They blurred in his vision.

Rage warmed his blood as fear chilled his bones.

His Omega.

The feral howl that ripped from his chest echoed through the morning fog surrounding the cabin.


Keep reading

⇁ tessellate | 01

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

sequel to nudes, not flowers with more angst and more filth

pairing⇁Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook

genre⇁smut, slight angst || fuckboi!au

warnings⇁public indecency, cumplay, exhibitionism, rough sex, dom/sub undertones, dom!junghope, jealousy, mentions of infidelity, sex in front of a mirror, oh n light daddy kink 

word count⇁15k

“ Triangles are my favorite shape
Three points where two lines meet.” (tessellate)

Triangles are supposed to be the strongest and most stable of all geometric shapes. You wonder how true this statement is if applied to real life situations. The way you see it: triangles aren’t a reliable structure for relationships, especially if the parties you’re involved with find commitment to be a foreign concept. 

or : a fuckboy’s guide to polyamory 

start | 01

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i'm starting to feel a lil bad tho. dan expressed that he doesn't want sympathy and that he doesn't want to be defined by it. i feel like some fans aren't necessarily respecting that (not you btw I'm talking generally). we should still treat him as we did before the video and realize that he's still dan, he can still laugh and have fun and that we shouldn't let this change how we see him and his content, past and present. he wants ppl to be aware of his depression without it defining him.

i agree with this. the worst thing is when you tell people about your mental illness and then their attitude towards you completely changes. people with depression or any other mental illness do not need to be treated like delicate flowers who require heaps of praise and validation just for existing and breathing lmao. i think the best thing about dan’s decision to share his story is how much he has already helped others dealing with similar issues by reminding them they’re not alone and the power of treatment and putting effort into recovery. it makes perfect sense to me for people to want to share their own stories and to thank dan for helping them, to express the gratitude and the emotions they felt in seeing him be so courageous and vulnerable. but i think there’s a difference between those statements of gratitude and respect and pride and admiration and support, and statements that coddle him and demand his audience change the way they treat him or speak about him in light of his coming forward with this. 

you said it yourself, anon, but i’ll repeat it: dan is the same person he always was. we just know more about him now. his sense of humor is the same as it always was. he is self-deprecating and sarcastic and sometimes a little arrogant. he is insecure in certain ways but astonishingly confident in others. he fucks up sometimes and at other times he does great things and helps so many people through his actions. in short, he is complex and multifaceted and he is all of those things, to use his own words, in spite of this thing holding him back. he’s gone out of his way to describe the steps he’s taken not to let depression define him and it’s on everyone watching him to do the same for him. so when i see posts that are talking about how no one should ever make a joke about him again, no one should ever criticize him again, i just roll my eyes a little. depressed people dont need to be tiptoed around and treated like they’re made of glass. dan’s decision to share his story definitely should not significantly alter how you view him or talk about him or treat him and i hope people can keep that in mind as things move forward (though i expect it will take some time for everyone’s emotions to settle.) 

 🎃    HALLOWEEN   SENTENCE    PROMPTS  !

  • ​❝ happy halloween!
  • ❝ are you going to go to this halloween part with me tonight?
  • ❝ it’s halloween, so everyone is going to be dressed up. ❞
  • ​❝ is that your idea of a costume?
  • ❝ i thought we agreed to stay in and have a horror movie marathon. ❞
  • ❝ i went to the store and bought all new halloween decorations. ❞
  • ​❝ are you going to help me put up these halloween lights?
  • ​❝ it’s halloween and we are spending it by going to a haunted house. ❞
  • ​❝ i have plans halloween night, unlike you. ❞
  • ​❝ we can always go to the pumpkin patch instead. ❞
  • ​❝ are you going to help me carve these pumpkins or not?
  • ​❝ aww, where’s your halloween spirit?
  • ​❝ look, i carved this pumpkin all by myself, what do you think?
  • ​❝ wanna go out with me for halloween?
  • ​❝ come on, halloween’s not so bad. it’s actually fun. ❞
  • ​❝ okay, i’ve got the best ghost story, wanna hear?
  • ​❝ let’s go trick-or-treating!
  • ❝ are you going to take me trick or treating this year again?
  • ​❝ come on, we have to go buy costumes for this party. ❞
  • ​❝ it’s going to be cold on halloween, are you sure you want to wear that?
  • ​❝ you are literally the same thing every year for halloween. ❞
  • ​❝ please, enough with the pumpkin spice. ❞
  • ​❝ how about a pumpkin spice latte?
  • ❝ please, never use fake blood for a halloween prank. ❞
  • ❝ oh no, please, tell me this isn’t another one of your ideas for a halloween prank. ❞
  • ❝ you think you can scare me?
  • ❝ remember to always check your candy!
  • ❝ where is all the candy i just bought?
  • ❝ we are not going to a cemetery just because it may or may not be haunted. ❞
  • ❝ i’m not going in a graveyard, are you crazy?
  • ❝ i’m going to dress up as the grim reaper because i feel like death. ❞
  • ❝ trick or treat. ❞
  • ❝ want to trade out some of our candy?
  • ❝ we should do a halloween game, like truth or dare ‘cept it’s trick or treat?
  • ❝ what school has a halloween dance party?
  • ❝ what are you going as for halloween this year?
  • ❝ are we really going to carve all these pumpkins?
  • ❝ you know, that was the best halloween party ever. ❞
  • ❝ i’m going to a halloween party and you’re not invited. ❞
  • ❝ you should totally come with me for this halloween thing tonight. ❞
  • ❝ we can stay up late and watch scary movies. ❞
  • ❝ i wanna make sure that my jack-o-lantern is the best!
  • ❝ let’s see who can carve there pumpkins the fastest!
  • ❝ i can’t believe they put some of these costumes on the racks. ❞
  • ❝ what’s the point in decorating your house for just one night?
  • ❝ i’ve got a spooky story for you, if you want to hear. ❞
  • ❝ do we have to go to this haunted trail?
  • ❝ that haunted trail/house sucked, i want my money back. ❞
  • ❝ i didn’t see you at the halloween festival earlier. ❞
  • ❝ i have to take my ______ trick or treating, or else i would. ❞
  • ❝ are you going to the halloween thing they are having today?
  • ❝ do you really think the dead are roaming free among us on halloween night?
  • ❝ halloween is my favorite holiday, so i’m going with or without you. ❞
  • ❝ you want to help me set up this halloween party?
  • ❝ this is going to be the best halloween of all time. ❞
  • ❝ i’m just saying, let loose and have some fun for a change. ❞
  • ❝ we should just make our own costumes. ❞
  • ❝ we’re definitely getting matching costumes.  ❞
  • ❝ i entered are names for this costume contest, one of us will definitely win. ❞
  • ❝ i do not want to be in a costume contest. ❞
  • ❝ wait, what? you don’t want to do anything at all on halloween night?
  • ❝ well, it’s over. now we have to wait all the way until next year. ❞

justallthedalish  asked:

I just read your Momo post and while i generally agree about it she's not really a common body type. And I say that for one reason. Her boobs are way to big for someone that skinny and athletic. Woman that naturally thin and muscular generally won't have much because since the fat get burned off (also cause hers are disproportionately large) And even then to be able to do the large amounts of fighting she does she'd need a high impact sports bra. Add that and the costume is better and realistic

i think the problem here is that i used only anime screen shots, which hirokoshi did not draw himself, bc i was making more of an emotional point than one specifically about her body and outward appearance

in the wiki it says this about her power and use of fat cells

“Momo’s body breaks down fat at a molecular level, which will then be re-used as material for her to shape into objects with her Quirk.[2] Because of this, considerable ingestion of food is necessary for the Quirk to be effective. This means she would likely become extremely under weight if used too much.“

momo has the quirk equivalent of an extremely high metabolism

so she must keep eating and constantly keep up her weight to properly use her quirk, and to not accidentally become underweight through overuse of her quirk

now check out this manga panel straight from the hands of horikoshi

SHE IS THICK

SHE HAS BELLY ROLLS, THICK THIGHS, THICK ARMS

you can tell that in the original art her boobs actually look PERF for her body type.

still the biggest in the class but they look naturally big

not like outrageous anime big haha

even in the anime character refs her boobs look perf for her body imo

a lot of the problem comes in how they are animated but thats on the production company, not on horikoshi

im guessing changes were made simply bc it was cheaper/easier to animate this way

HERE’S SOME MORE MANGA PICS SO EVERYONE CAN SEE HOW PERF MOMO’S TATAS FIT HER BOD THO

and about her not having a sports bra

“Her hero costume consists of a simple red skin-tight outfit that exposes most of the center of her torso, arms and legs, with a large light gold belt so she can more freely use her Quirk.”

any more fabric would limit what her quirk can produce
and as my buddy @arr-jim-lad just pointed out to me this is probably a big reason as to why she did poorly during the tournament
she could only use what she could make from her arms since they were all required to wear their gym uniform so no one has an unfair advantage

omg also when i said it was a super common body type i didnt mean “athletic bod + big boobs”

i meant its super common for lots of teens to go from flat chested child to big boobed child so fast they have no idea what to do about it, and they can be completely unaware of the change for a while. according to her wiki she’s 15 so its not only possible but entirely probable her character is just unaware of how her hero costume looks beyond “this is the most functional outfit”

i mean if it were made only for sex appeal why would horikoshi put a book of references on the back

“The Yaoyorictionary: This equipment is made of lexicon compiling all the constructs and materials that comes to Momo’s mind. It also has magnets attached to the cover and inside pages so that it doesn’t open or fall.”

damn what a sexy book

its not mentioned much in the anime but if you look up these characters on their wiki it describes in great detail the purposes behind their costumes

its not at all just aesthetics, everything about their designs has a very unique function to greater utilize their quirks!!

((imo uraraka’s is especially interesting!! really you should check it out!!))

AND THIS IS WHY I APPRECIATE HORIKOSHI

NOTHING IS THERE FOR NOTHING

EVERYTHING HAS A GREATER MEANING AND PURPOSE AND ITS FANTASTIC 

yes he didnt have to make a teenager w large breasts w a quirk that used her skin.

but i love that he did

bc he found a way to do it and make it natural and completely unsexualized

despite what the angries on tumblr would have you believe, there is absolutely no instances of momo being sexualized over her body or outfit by anyone other than mineta, and even then most characters act like he doesnt exist (except the blessed frog and lovely jiro who usually beat him for it)

AND AS SOMEONE WHO WAS A TEEN W LARGE BOOBS WHO HAS RARELY SEEN THIS TYPE OF CHARACTER IN ANYTHING WITHOUT BEING HORRIBLY SEXUALIZED YOU BETTER BELIEVE I ADORE MOMO AND HER PRACTICALITY AND REALISTIC BEHAVIOR ♡♡♡

Xefros Tritoh is a Page of Time. also, class roleplay is real.

I’m still too sick to record for the Joey video, so while I don’t have the time to make a full-scale analysis post on everything about Xefros right now (theres a lot) I figured I’d make two crucial things about reading his character clear:

A) Xefros’ unhealthy relationship with Dammek is the latest example yet of unhealthy Class Roleplay dynamics. If anyone remembers, I speculated weeks ago, before the game dropped, that Xefros’ relationship to the role of Butlering might well turn out to be both unhealthy for him and reflective of Classpect behavior.

As it turns out, I seem to have been correct. Specifically, Xefros is roleplaying a Knight through his unwilling assignment of the role of the Butler.

B) Xefros is a Page of Time.

Let’s explore them in order, considerably more briskly than with the Joey post. There’s more to say about Xefros, obviously, but unfortunately, I just don’t have the….

Time.  Something I have in common with Xefros, fittingly enough.

Keep reading

Neighbour AU

There are three certainties in life: death, taxes, and Laurent’s neighbours having a loud argument every weekend. Laurent does not pay an exorbitant amount of rent just so that he can be woken up at three in the morning every Saturday because Jokaste is angry at Damen again. It’s bad enough that he knows their names without having ever introduced himself.

And of course, the fights are always followed by even louder make-up sex, as if he needs a weekly reminder that he himself isn’t getting any.

Tonight, it seems, Damen has been locked out of his apartment.

Keep reading

Mafia!BTS Reaction: You Know Their Secret (Hyung Line)

Anonymous asked: Do you take reaction requests?? If so could u do a bts reaction where theyre in the mafia and try to keep it a secret from you but youve known for while and they just found out that you’ve known? tysm!!

A/N: I do take requests! I went kinda overboard, so I’m just gonna do the hyung line for now. Maknae line soon to come!

–SEOKJIN–

You had just taken a big bite out of Jin’s latest dish. It was delicious and flavorful as always, but maybe a little too much. You coughed, hitting your chest with one hand as Jin panicked, rushing to bring you some water. After downing a whole glass, you breathed a sigh of relief. So did Jin.

“I’m so sorry, honey! For a second I thought I’d killed you.”

Still recovering, you weren’t thinking as your next words tumbled out of your mouth.

“You’re a professional killer, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

A long, heavy silence fell over you both realized what you had just said. Horror twisted in your gut. Crap. How could you cover this up?

“What did you just say?” Jin asked, voice low with something very, very dangerous.

There was a long moment where you both stood there, unmoving and unblinking, just staring at one another. Then the panic settled in. Your breathing became quicker, your eyes wide. He knew. He knew you knew. This was bad. He was angry. This was bad.

Jin took a step forward, features softening as he approached you slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal.

“Darling, calm down. It’s—“

Thoughts still hazy, you turned on your heel and made a break for the door, running as fast as you possibly could.

Jin was faster.

You barely made it out of the kitchen when you felt his hand circle around your arm in a vice grip. In the next instant, he slammed you against the nearest wall with terrifying strength you had always known he possessed. You winced, screwing your eyes shut as you looked down. You couldn’t look at him—you were afraid of what you would see.

Gentle but firm, his other hand gripped your chin and made you look into his eyes. They were soft and gentle, the same as they had always been. You felt yourself relax, just a little bit, at that.  

“I think,” he finally said, “you and I need to have a little talk.”

–NAMJOON–

You were home alone, so you decided to take a long, much deserved bath. Eyes closed, you sighed as you soaked in the steaming water. Then, you heard it. A loud bang and a crash from outside the door. Namjoon wasn’t supposed to be home until very late that night, which could only mean it was a break in.

Your eyes snapped open and you practically flew out of the tub, heart hammering in your chest as you thought of your options. You knew Namjoon kept a gun in every room. It was how you discovered his real occupation some time ago.

As quickly as you could, you removed the bathmat at the base of the tub and felt around for a loose tile. Sure enough, you search was fruitful. You grabbed the weapon and slowly backed away. You didn’t want to use it, or even threaten anyone with it, so you stayed put, hoping the intruder wouldn’t come into the washroom. No such luck. Soon enough, the knob jiggled for a moment before the door was pushed open. With shaky hands you put the gun up.

“D-don’t move! I’m not a-afraid to use this!”

“Shit, baby, what the fuck?

Namjoon stood before you, hands up in surrender and eyes wide with shock as he stared at you in utter disbelief.  You could have cried at the sight of your boyfriend. Shaking, you lowered the weapon. Then, enraged, you lifted it again.

“You! You scared me half to death! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Namjoon gaped.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Why do you have a gun?!”

“You’re in the mob and you’re asking about your own gun?!”

You froze, realizing your mistake. Namjoon stared at you, wide eyed. Then, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slouched in defeat, almost as if he’d been expecting this. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had.  

“Ok, before we have this conversation,” he said, voice exasperated, “could you please put the gun down? And maybe put some clothes on?”

You looked down at yourself and blushed, placing the gun back on the floor and running past him into the bedroom.

“If you like,” he said, voice amused and suggestive, “we could save the clothes and the conversation for later…”  

–YOONGI–

Yoongi was still sleeping when you decided to slip out of bed and make breakfast for the both of you. You were flipping pancakes in the kitchen when you heard the unmistakable sound of a knock on the door. You nearly jumped out of your skin, dropping one of the pancakes in the process. Cursing, you turned the stove off and marched to the door.

When you opened it, you were surprised to find two men you had never seen before standing in front of you.

You immediately stiffened, thinking about Yoongi’s job. Did they know him? Were these friends or enemies? Were they dangerous? Were you about to get kidnapped? You were so going to kill Yoongi if you got kidnapped because of him.

You fixed the two men with an unamused glare.

“May I help you?”

The men looked almost as surprised to see you as you were to see them. They shifted uncomfortably, looking at one another.

“Uh. Is Suga home?”

‘Suga’ was Yoongi, you knew. You also knew it was a name only his friends knew him by, if the papers you found in his office were anything to go by. Still, you didn’t trust these guys yet.

“Who are you?”

They looked at each other.

“Uh. I’m V and that’s Jimin. We’re—“

“His underlings. Yeah, I know.” You sighed, relieved when you recognized their names. “Sorry, but Suga’s—“

“Awake now.”

You jumped when you felt the heat of another body pressed against your back. Yoongi was standing there, still shirtless, using an arm to lean against the doorframe as he fixed the two visitors with a glare.

“Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“But—“

Without saying another word, Yoongi grabbed the door and shut it in their faces. He sighed, still pressed right up against your back. You squirmed, trying to step away from him, but started when you felt both of his hands firmly grasp each of your arms. He pressed further into you, leaning in until you felt his breath on the back of your neck.

You shivered—out of fear or something else, you weren’t sure.

“How long,” he said, his low voice practically a whisper as he spoke into your ear, “have you known about this?”

–HOSEOK–

You and Hoseok were getting some shopping done when you passed by a department store, one of the very upscale and intimidating ones that you dared not enter by yourself. So, naturally, Hoseok decided to drag you inside.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but obliged nonetheless. He was so happy, after all. While inside, you found yourself surprised as something caught your eye. It was a beautiful silver watch. You leaned over the glass case displaying it, admiring the piece. You had always wanted one of these high-end accessories, but you could never possibly afford it.

“Like what you see, babe?”

You jumped, having almost forgot you were here with your boyfriend. Smiling, you nodded, but shrugged it off with a small, disappointed sigh.

“Yeah, but when in a million years could I ever afford something like this?”

Hoseok blinked, staring at you for a moment in thought before he spoke again, smile ever-present.

“I’ll buy it for you.”

You raised your eyebrows. Of course, you knew Hoseok could afford this sort of thing. He was a mobster after all, and a pretty damn successful one, from what you gathered. But still, he didn’t need to know that you knew. So, you shook your head.

“If I can’t afford it, then you can’t either.”

“Yes, I can,” he replied, persistent.

“No, you can’t.” You glared at him. “I don’t want it that bad, Hoseok.”

“Sure you do.”

“No.”

“Babe it’s ok, I’ll buy—“

“If I want this watch,” you snapped, irritation taking over you, “then I want it with good, honest money. Not—“ you gasped, cutting yourself off once you realized what you said.

“Not what, babe?”

Everything around you seemed to stop—the bustling department store seemed empty, the lights seemed dimmer. All you could focus on was Hoseok, his eyes darkening while the smile remained on his face. You had a feeling you weren’t the first person to be on the receiving end of such a look. Your sweet, loving boyfriend was replaced with someone else.

He was terrifying.

Still smiling, Hoseok leaned forward until your faces were centimeters apart.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his sweet voice laced with venom, “is there something you’d like to tell me?”