but even reading it makes me throw up a little in my mouth

I still don't know if he ever got his coffee.

I’m not 100% sure this even belongs here and I’ve posted this story elsewhere so some of you might have read it already.

Some background: I work in a rather specialized area of Forensics. Officially I’m employed by Police Scotland but they tend to let other law enforcement agencies, universities, etc borrow us from time to time. A lot of the time it’s for consulting work or guest lecturing but sometimes we’re sent to teach training courses.

About 18 months ago I was asked to lecture at a training course for some of the CID higher-ups in an English Police force. It was the first time I’d done anything like it and I was crapping myself.

I met with the conveners and other officials for dinner the night before my first day, and after dinner and drinks, I was dropped back at my hotel.

So to set the scene; it’s about 10pm, I’m all dressed up in my evening wear and I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel lounge. The place is dead, it’s just me and the barman so I’ve taken off my heels and am unraveling my hair having just ordered a hot chocolate. The barman asks if I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. Yes, of course I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. No I don’t mind waiting while you run to the kitchen.

So I’m sit there trying to trick my phone into connecting to the hotels WiFi when Angry Man walks in.

He stomped into the room and slammed his fist down on the bar about 3 ft from me and barked out one word:

“COFFEE”

I didn’t know it but apparently that attempt at communication was aimed at me; a fact I learned a moment later when Angry Man moved right up next to me, bent over me so his face was practically in mine and barked out again;

“COFFEE”.

In an attempt to get away from the screaming coffee man I slipped off the bar stool, putting it between the two of us. Extremely confused and more than a little terrified, it didn’t immediately occur to me that he thought I worked there, hell it wasn’t even registering that he wanted a coffee. He was just repeating it the same way a toddler does when they learn a new word but don’t entirely know what it means.

I’m going to blame the confusion, fear and tiredness for my completely moronic response, which was to parrot the word back at him.

Me: “Coffee?”

Angry Man: “COFFEE”

Then he slammed his fist down on the bar again. This time I noticed that he was actually throwing down money.

My brain suddenly came back online.

Me: “Oh. Eh, the barman should be back in a sec. H-”

Angry Man: “Get me a coffee. Now.”

Ooooh four new words. Progress.

Me: “I’m sorry, mate, I don’t work here.”

Angry man (shouting now) “You fucking lazy liar!! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Yes, actually, but I’ll be keeping that to myself.

Angry Man: “Get off your fucking phone and get me a shitting coffee”

Me: “I really don’t-”

Cue rant about me being the only person in the lounge so of course I must work there and I was just being lazy and did I take him for an idiot. All while I’m slowly backing away from the bar so he can’t pin me between it and the bar stools. Then he throws in this:

Angry Man: “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have any idea how important I am?”

I never got to find out how important this guy thought he was. Instead Angry Man’s Friend came wandering in.

He took one look at me; pretty much cornered by Angry Man who is now screaming about how he’ll make sure I never work again while I’m trying to calmly tell him to back off and he tries to intervene.

He took Angry Man by the shoulders and moved him back away from me while asking him what was going on.

Angry Man: “This stupid little whore is refusing to serve me”

Me: “I really don’t work here”

Angry Man’s Friend: “She doesn’t work here. Let’s just all try to calm down”

There was a few moments of Angry Man’s Friend trying to calm Angry Man while he ranted about getting me fired until two barman arrived, one of them with my hot chocolate. The presence of the three men distracted Angry Man enough for me to grab my shoes and escape with my chocolatey goodness.

As I left I could hear him demanding to speak to a manager.

The next day, after being introduced to a lecture theater full of high ranking CID Officers, I stood and walked to the podium only to be greeted by one guy in the audience laughing hysterically.

I just sort of froze trying to figure out the joke. Did I have food on my face? Was my shirt on inside out?

A quick check confirmed that, no. I’d managed to adult that morning.

A few other people began to chuckle as this guy struggled to get a hold of himself. As he regained control he pointed to his left.

Where a very red looking Angry Man was sitting.

I think it was the sheer relief that he wasn’t actually laughing at me that caused me to open my mouth and say to Angry Man;

“Oh did you get your coffee in the end?”

He walked out and I didn’t see him for the rest of the course.

🌿 Using Weed in Witchcraft 🌿

I’ve noticed there’s not a lot of posts on how to incorporate weed into witchcraft! I’ve had a few fellow stoner witchlings ask for a post as well and I feel comfortable making this post because I’m a certified botanist. I’m sorry if it’s a little unorganized, I got high to write it.🔥🌿 Please, only read this if you’re okay with the topic of drug use and remember to smoke responsibly, make sure you research specific strains! Also, I’m sorry this is long af.

Where Do I Even Begin?
I use cannabis as a way to induce a state of relaxation and meditation. For me, it helps me clear my head and focus my intention. Let’s start with the different strains of weed and which kind of witchcraft they support the best.

Indica tends to be sedative, and gives a body high. This type of marijuana will provide a very relaxing and strong body high that is helpful in treating general anxiety, body pain, and sleeping disorders. As a spoonie this is what I most often smoke to ease pain and nausea, just as a heads up to other people looking for relief. The most popular Indica strains currently include Kush, Northern Lights, and White Widow. My recommendation is Purple Kush or Northern Lights. This is great for self-love spells, protection, divination, healing, and stress-reducing spells or rituals.

Sativa -dominant marijuana strains tend to have a more grassy type odor to the buds providing an uplifting, energetic and “cerebral” high that is best suited for daytime smoking. A sativa high is one filled with creativity and energy as being high on sativa can spark new ideas and creations. This is great for glamour spells, love spells, hexes, curses, and other high energy spells. 

But honestly, just do whatever makes you feel good and makes you happy, your well-being and comfort should be the most important thing in your practice. Please smoke responsibly 

That’s Cool But What Else?
You can definitely mix certain herbs and flowers with your weed! Just pop a couple petals or buds in your grinder with your weed. Please, be careful that you don’t smoke something toxic and do your research. Some flowers are toxic to humans and a few are deadly. Below you’ll find a list of things you can smoke and their properties and why you cannot smoke because sometimes it’s hard to find information online. Note: Please, don’t smoke any of the below if you are nursing or pregnant. 

  • Yarrow is a mild stimulant and has anti-inflammatory properties, it’s great for soothing pain in the lungs and throat. It can cause allergic reactions.Courage, Love, Enlightenment 
  • Blue Lotus use as a sleep aid, as a natural anti-anxiety remedy, and as a stress reliever. Blue Lotus contains nuciferan (a natural anti-spasmodic) along with aporphine, which will give you feelings of calming euphoria. It is important you smoke only the petals. Lunar, Protection, Divination, Prosperity
  • Wormwood can also be used as a light anaesthetic. It is commonly used to give relief to menstrual cramps and muscle pains. It is also being used as a remedy for common cold, tapeworm, headaches, and nausea. It’s also used as an aphrodisiac, this is not for extended or frequent use. It can cause allergic reactions. Psychic Powers, Protection, Love, Calling Spirits
  • Lavender can be use as a sleep aid, as a natural anti-anxiety remedy, and a stress reliever. Sleep, Happiness, Peace, Cleansing, Protection, Love.
  • St. John’s Wart in very small portions. I’d rather you didn’t do it at all but it’s technically legal so I’m listing it St. John’s Wort may be a natural herb but it does have quite a few side effects. Before you start using it, consult your doctor first if you are taking medications that can negatively interact with St. John’s Wort. It can effect how well certain medications work including birth control, mood-stabilizers, and anti-depressants. On the other hand, St. John’s Wart is a mood-stablizier, so if you’re not on any medications and feel a little anxious smoking some could indeed help. The most common side effects are dizziness, nausea, digestive problems, tiredness, dry mouth, and sun sensitivity. Health, Protection, Strength, Love, Divination.
  • Rose petals, white sage leaves, rosemary, wormwood, mint leaves, marshmallow root, catnip, meadowsweet, and passionflower. I know there’s more I’m missing but these are the one’s I suggest!
  • Please don’t smoke(if it’s in bold it’s really bad): Yew, Sandal Wood, Mistletoe, Periwinkle, Dogbane, Orange/Lemon Peels, and Dragon’s Blood. Those are the major one’s people tend to ask about.

Fun Witchy Things To Do With Pot:

  • I like to blow smoke rings and use them as casting circles for cleansing energy. When they break apart and the smoke starts to blanket the room I know it’s absorbing all the negative energy from my home!
  • If you use a bubbler you can read the bottom like tea leaves! It’s a bit of hoot.
  • Incorporate the weed strains name into your magick! When I’m working with Freyja I often smoke Northern Lights because in Norse Mythology they represented the valkyries. And who doesn’t want to be bad ass? I smoke Purple Haze to bring in positive energy. Be creative! You know your practice the best. 💜
  • Incorporate the pipe into your practice. On Samhain, I smoke out of apples because it makes me feel extra witchy and closer to Hel. Also, you can carve sigils or names into an apple! You can use color correspondences or whatever floats your little balloon. 
  • Ashes!! Don’t throw away your ashes! Use them in binding spells, protection spells, or black salt. But if you’re a gardener plants love the ashes! Mix it in with plant food or just sprinkle some on top of them once a week! ( I personally swear by this, eggshells, coffee beans, and lavender salt.)
  • Cleanse your pipe, it’s the least you can do for all it does for you. I like to leave mine out under the full moon to cleanse and just smoke an apple instead with carved intentions to cleanse my home. (I use weed for everything, I’m sorry.)
  • Charge your water if you’re using bubbler, bong, vape, etc. Moon water is totally awesome in this situation and so is rose water! I personally love using rose water but please don’t use store bought rose water. It’s often simmered water and essential oils. You can make your own rose water by putting some petals (dried or fresh) into a saucepan and let it simmer, do not let it boil, when the petals lose their color it’s done. Press the remaining amount of rose from the petals with paper towels into the water!
  • When you inhale the smoke, visualize that you’re bringing in the good energy and all the properties of your bowl, let the smoke absorb all your negative energy and release it! I like to have an incense or candle going if I’m breathing out the bad. 😅
  • Charge your weed with crystals. Every time I get a new batch of weed I put a piece of rose quartz in with it and let it cleanse my weed of any negative energies it might have collected from previous owners.
  • Blow smoke out of your face like a dragon??? 

I hope this is helpful in some way! If I’m missing anything please let me know! 💖🌿💨  

Ableism almost killed Stephen Hawking in the 80′s.

This is a casual reminder that Stephen Hawking was almost allowed to die due to ableism.

Stephen got so sick because the advance of his ALS made his larynx weak and it wasn’t doing the job of keeping spit and food out of his lungs when he swallowed. In the 80′s, he contracted aspiration pneumonia while at CERN. He got rushed to a hospital where he was placed in a medically induced coma and breathed via a ventilator. Doctors urged Jane (wife) to pull the plug because “he’s too far gone”. 

Think about it: Doctors put Stephen into a position where he couldn’t answer for himself, tried to tell his wife that he was too far gone and tried to tell her she should pull the plug as an act of mercy. 

I doubt that would have been said if Stephen wasn’t so visibly disabled by his ALS. It’s funny how people in the medical field tend to be so quick to give up on a patient if they already have a visible disability when they are brought in, but will throw all the medicine and machines they’ve got at somebody who isn’t visibly disabled. I don’t think doctors even realize they have this bias.

Thankfully, Jane stood up to the doctor. She said no, declared that Stephen must live and had him returned to Cambridge. She knew her husband better than the doctors. She saved his life.

Stephen had a tracheostomy done, which prevented him from speaking, and he spent some time on a ventilator while he recovered from the pneumonia. He initially communicated via a letter board by raising his eyebrows when the right letter was chosen. Then he went on to get the computer that gave him his famous voice. 

A little aside– Stephen has the option to get a new, more “human” sounding voice, and he refuses because he’s grown quite attached to the “robot” voice he’s so well-known for. He sees that as his voice now and identifies with it. (”Even though it gives me an American accent,” he once joked.)

Later, he had a laryngectomy because his larynx was causing a lot of trouble with swallowing food. Getting rid of it increased his quality of life. As far as I know he’s still swallowing just fine and eats and drinks by mouth with help from his assistants. A video of Stephen talking about the tracheostomy and laryngectomy can be found here. (No surgery images, but he describes medical tests and talks about the problems with eating.)

He communicates nonverbally with his caregivers using just facial gestures. One of them said Stephen can just look at him a certain way and he’ll know whether he’s saying he needs attention or everything’s fine. I read somewhere that Stephen grinds his teeth to express disapproval. (Yo, behavior is communication!) He communicates with more than his AAC device, it’s just a matter of learning to read him like his caregivers do.


‘No quality of life,’ the doctors said in the 80′s.


(Sarcasm) 

I guess this is ‘no quality of life’.

(/sarcasm)

[Stephen giving lectures at a university.]

[With the cast of The Big Bang Theory.]

[Experiencing zero gravity.]

[Looking sharp at the BAFTA’s!]

[In his office at Cambridge University, doing what he loves– trying to find the real theory of everything.]

(Sarcasm) 

Oh yes, his quality of life is just awful, isn’t it? 

(/sarcasm)


The only person allowed to determine Stephen Hawking’s quality of life is Stephen Hawking himself. And guess what? His life is great right now!

He almost wasn’t here. Ableism nearly ended his life in the 80′s.

Thankfully, he’s still around to sass people and keep us curious about the universe.

Here’s a documentary where Stephen tells his own story in his own words. CC’s are available for those with hearing or audio processing issues.

* * * WARNING: Video has flashing lights that may upset seizures or migraines.
* * * TRIGGERS: Dramatized hospital scenes, food consumption and alcohol consumption.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hi8jMRMsEJo (not my video)

Btw the girl in the thumbnail is goofing off with him by making that face.

From the Other Side of the Signing Table

“I don’t know what to say to you,” the girl said. “Um, thanks, I guess.”

“Thanks is good,” I replied.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the scuffle of a Sharpie on a page.

We were in the same boat, the girl and I — both at a book festival, both at the end of a long day full of people, both in a signing line that had been going on for an hour already. There was only one big difference between us: she was on one side of the table, and I was on the other. Sometimes that difference seems to matter more than others.

Before I was published, I read a lot of accounts of what it was like to have your work out there, but I never read anything about what it was like to have yourself out there. I suppose I never really thought about it, to tell you the truth. I thought you wrote a book and hopefully people liked it and if I thought about book tours at all, I figured they involved standing on a stage for a bit before disappearing into a rental car. The truth, however, is that now — ten years and fifteen novels in to my career — most of my hours in front of people are spent in a signing line. Forty minutes on a stage or behind a table for a panel, and then two or three hours meeting a few hundred strangers. I had no idea what it would be like.

This is what it’s like.


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Closet Softie

Or, How Bucky Barnes Nearly Ruined His Tough-Guy Rep

(On AO3)


The trail mix was gone. 

The nice, expensive trail mix, with twelve kinds of nuts and the big sunflower seeds and dried fruits, the kind Tony only rarely left sitting on the common floors for everyone to get at, was gone. 

Clint had been looking forward to that stuff all morning

All the way through a hellish morning “jog” with Steve, all through Nat handing him his ass on the training mats, all through firing the same batch of misweighted arrows over and over so Tony could take scans and fix the design, he’d been thinking, when this is done I get to go upstairs and hang out on the couch and watch Dog Cops and eat the good trail mix, guilt-free. 

And it was gone.

Clint was gonna shoot somebody.

Just as soon as he figured out who’d taken the trail mix.


kingofmemes posted:

yesterday i saw a sad duck in the park who kept getting picked on by the other ducks so today i brought some trail mix and we had a nice lunch together. also i think he might be the duck who pooped on sam last week. if so, he is officially my new best friend. 

Posted at 3:29 PM, 24379 notes

(Read More Below)


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I don’t even know. I was taking a walk today and this idea popped into my head. I swear I’m still writing the bookstore AU, too. Also, *pops confetti*, I hit 2k followers today! Who ARE all you guys? Anyway, this fluff/ridiculousness is for you. ~1.6k words, rated G. Sterek, of course.

now also on AO3

The whole thing starts with Stiles really, really craving a meatball sub from the place across the street.

“God, someone shut him up,” Erica groans. They’re all kind of at their breaking point by now; they’ve been camped out in this meeting room all day, brainstorming. “He’s been talking about the same goddamn sandwich for seven and a half minutes now, and it’s making me hungry.”

“If only our ad campaign were about sandwiches, Stilinski would have it in the bag and we could all go home,” Isaac sighs.

From across the table, Derek rises abruptly to his feet and storms out. (Or maybe it’s just that Stiles always interprets everything Derek does as stormy. With those eyebrows, it’s hard not to.)

Stiles assumes he’s just gotten so fed up with them all that it’s either storm out or kill someone, and he’s just grateful Derek chose Door Number 1. It’s a good day not to get killed by Derek Hale.

Only, fifteen minutes later he comes back in. With a paper bag from the deli.

As soon as he gets within grabbing distance, Stiles practically collapses across the table in his haste to reach for it. “Oh my god, is that what I think it is?”

Derek holds it up over his head. “Who says this is for you? Maybe all your talk inspired me to go get a meatball sub of my own.”

“Oh, please. Like anyone with your abs eats meatball subs.” Stiles leaps to his feet on his swivel chair—because screw safety, Derek will catch him if he starts to topple over—and snatches the bag out of Derek’s grip. Derek doesn’t fight him for it very hard.

“Why don’t I get a meatball sub?” Erica whines, thumping her head down on her notebook. “Doesn’t anyone love me?”

Derek shrugs and takes his seat again. “You didn’t ask.”

“You just like Stilinski better,” she grumbles, and Derek just shrugs again.

Meanwhile, Stiles rips into the bag and takes a huge bite out of the gloriousness that is this sandwich. He can’t help throwing in a few theatrical moans just to taunt Erica, and she suitably rewards him with a glare of death across the table.

“Mmm,” Stiles says. “Derek, I love you so much, dude. Marry me.”

Instead of the grumpy eyebrows he expects, Derek meets his eye, leans back smugly in his chair, and says, “Okay.”

Keep reading

Slight Changes || Park Jimin

Originally posted by lonastic

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Angst/Fluff


“You can’t be serious Y/N, it wasn’t even my fault.” You ignored Jimin’s voice as you stormed away from him and walked into the kitchen. The only thing you wanted to do right now was get away from him, but it seemed that no matter how far you got from him he would just appear right behind you again.

“Yes, Jimin, I am serious. What would make you think otherwise?” Your tone was bitter, anger flooding through you and exiting in the form of words. There was no other way for you to release it so you just had to deal with trying your best to stay calm and not completely flip out on your boyfriend. Jimin sighed loudly before speaking again, causing you to turn around and look at him.

“She was just a fan, fan’s get close. It’s not my fault.” He argued. You rolled your eyes, feeling more anger rise at the fact that he was trying to defend himself over this. The picture had been all over twitter and it seemed that ARMY’s were going crazy over it. They had been tweeting it at you, waiting for some kind of reaction, but you held back until the moment he got home and you could confront him about it.

“It’s your fault that you didn’t try to ask her to move, and it’s your fault that you didn’t mention me, you know, your girlfriend.” You said.

“God you always get like this.” Jimin’s tone surprised you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback by his words. There wasn’t anything about it that was very different, just a slight undertone of frustration that you weren’t used to. Jimin was always calm with you, even now while you were practically yelling at you he was keeping his normal tone.

“What do you mean I always get like this?” You asked.

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anonymous asked:

andreil pda around the foxes pleaseee my soul needs it

my marvelous anon, i am here to grant thine request, with a small side of accidental lowkey renison. enjoy <3. also on AO3.


He did it. He actually did it. After months of constant warnings and threats, Wymack finally followed through.

Neil can do nothing but stare at the flyer in his hand, mildly in fear and majorly in shock. A mere thirty seconds prior, Wymack had stormed out of his office brandishing this piece of paper like both a white flag and a declaration of war. He had paused just inside the lounge, making sure to gather everyone’s attention, before striding over to Neil and shoving the flyer in his face.

“This is for last weekend,” Wymack had said. “I already—don’t give me that look, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. I already signed you up. It starts at 8:00 AM on Saturday, and unless you want your ass glued to the bench for the rest of the season, I suggest you be there.” He had then turned back around and disappeared into the hallway, leaving a room full of confused and curious Foxes in his wake.

A full minute passes before chaos breaks out and everyone starts moving at once. Various forms of “What the hell?” can be heard from all corners of the room. Neil blinks as the flyer is yanked out of his hand. He looks up to see Andrew, his eyes scanning the paper. Andrew looks up at him, and Neil’s heart nearly explodes because this look on his face, it looks like the honest-to-god beginnings of a smile. And sure, it’s at Neil’s expense, but he would embarrass the fuck out of himself at every turn if this was his reward. Andrew moves to hand the paper back to Neil.

“Okay, seriously,” Kevin huffs out with impatience as he pushes through his teammates. He snags the flyer away from Andrew who couldn’t be bothered to stop him. Kevin reads aloud, “The Annual Hilton Head Island Marathon…a MARATHON? Really, Neil?! Is this a joke?”

“I don’t know, Kevin,” says Andrew, his voice taking on the persona of a kindergarten teacher. “Did it look like a joke to you?”

Kevin’s only response is to scowl and shove the flyer into Neil’s chest. “This better not affect your performance at our game on Friday. You don’t get to take it easy just because you have to run 26.2 miles the next day.”

By the time Kevin has stormed out of the building, the rest of the Foxes have commenced their team wide freak out.

“Seriously?! He actually came through on that threat?” Dan is caught halfway between being genuinely worried and dying of laughter.

“Neil…bro…what the fuck…” Matt says from somewhere on his left, placing a consoling hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Neil. We have to be there. I have to witness this historic moment. You finally get to put your insane running habits into practice,” Allison is rambling from across the room.

“Wait, what was Wymack talking about ‘last weekend’? What did you do?” Asks Nicky, unaccustomed to being out of the loop.

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Inspired by THIS POST about gay Disney Princesses. 


When the old beggar comes to the door, Addy knows better than to let her in. She doesn’t look at the rose or the woman too long; she shuts the door.

Some will call her arrogant or selfish, but what is she to do? No guards, parents in the capital (not, here, not here), and the knowledge that she is the damsel in all those fairy tales weighs heavily on her mind. Oh, little princess, far from home and alone, so alone.

The Enchantress (for they do not call her witch) makes sure that she stays that way.

Alone except for her wilting rose.

(She did not want it, would not take it, so she was bound to it. Such is the way of Princesses.)

———————————-

Addy used to have frightful bursts of temper. Her face would turn red, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, mouth screwed into an upside down kidney bean. Anything could set her off; a too tight corset, a walk ended too quickly, another toy sword taken away. She’d wail and scream, kick her feet and punch the air, tear and rend anything within arm’s reach.

The first time she has a fit in her new form, it’s after Mrs. Potts reads the King and Queen’s decision on her…condition. She’s to stay here, on the outskirts of their kingdom, until a Prince comes to release her from her spell. Alone until a different sort of bond is forced on her, until she is made to change from princess to beast to bride.

Addy know why they refuse to save her. It’s because she’s always been too big, too strong, too ill-tempered, too–

In her rage, Addy upends the tea tray, forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.

She is reminded when fine china falls to the hard ground, when it rattles, when it shatters, when it screams.

“No!” Addy falls to her knees next to her dishes– no, her friends and frantically rights them, apologies tumbling from her lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Temper,” Mrs. Potts murmurs, more out of reflex than anything, looking obviously terrified. She hops from her side to her base, better able to control her new body than any other castle resident. Her lid is sitting askew and her eyes are wide (so wide) as they dart from one cup to another. “Daniel? Daniel!”

Addy cuts herself on broken porcelain and flinches. She–she’d killed him, she’d been so thoughtless, how could she? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

“I’m okay,” a little voice says. “I’m okay, Mom!”

 Addy sobs as she locates him under the silver platter, on his side, trapped. She throws the platter too hard, lodging it in the wall, and takes Daniel in her paws.  

“It’s okay, Princess Addy,” Daniel chirps at her. He’s a little older than her, just a few years, and he’s always trying to be strong. His eyes are wide (too wide), but he offers her a tremulous smile. “I’m okay.”

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. Potts says and her china clinks as she hops forward. 

Addy’s eyes lock on the horrible, huge chip in his rim. 

I did that.

She’s across the room before being aware of setting Daniel down, of standing, of leaping away.

“Princess,” Mrs. Potts says from her low, low position on the floor. “What–”

“Don’t call me that,” Addy grits out. Her huge body leans heavily against the door, making it groan, as she desperately tries to wrap her paw around the handle. She can’t stop looking at the chip, the proof of harm, the proof that something much worse can happen so easily. “Don’t call me– I’m not–I’m not the Princess. I’m the Beast.”

The door crashes open and she disappears.

————————————————

It’s weeks before the servants realize that she’s never going to answer to her name again. She no longer sleeps in her princess bed or attempts to wear her princess clothes. She wears pants scavenged from the servants’ quarters, tunics from her father’s closet, ties her mane back with twine instead of ornaments.

“Addy!” they call. “Princess Addy!”

The Beast doesn’t even know who that is.

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a love spell, or something like it

inspired by a post sara reblogged (this one, specifically) and the resulting conversation about different love spells, where she suggested i write the fic. i said no, go away, it’s late. then i stayed up and wrote the fic.

This doesn’t make any sense.

Though they’d never admit it—Dean especially would never admit it—they’re practically witches themselves at this point. Sam isn’t deluded enough to think otherwise. He has a fair share of spells up his sleeve that he knows by heart by now, a few more he’s working on remembering, and some he still struggles with the incantation, but at the end of the day they frequently speak Latin and throw herbs into flames, so, logically, they’re witches, or close enough to it.

And it’s because of this (and his own unfortunate experience that no one must ever speak of again, thanks) that Sam knows a love spell when he sees one.

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“Jack,” Bitty whines, throwing his head back. “I am so tired. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Come on, Bits. You’re almost there,” Jack says encouragingly.

“But I’m so sleepy,” Bitty complains. “My arms are heavy. My fning—ah!” Bitty huffs. “My fingers hurt. Listen, I’m slurrin’ all my words.”

“Look at me.”

Bitty spins the desk chair to look at Jack, and pouts.

“You do look tired.” Jack gazes at him, eyes narrowing.

So tired,” Bitty professes. “I’ll finish up tomorrow.”

Jack sighs. “That essay is due at nine am.”

Bitty bites his lip. He’s well aware of that. “Sleep though, Jack. Sleep.”

“You hate waking up early,” Jack points out with a raised eyebrow.

“Once every now and then is fine.” Bitty tries to say it with conviction.

Jack puts his bookmark in his paperback. “How long until you’re finished?” Jack asks. “Referenced and proof-read finished, not first draft finished,” he adds before Bitty can reply.

Bitty shuts his mouth against his automatic response of twenty minutes.

“Uh… Maybe an hour?”

Jack checks the time on his watch, which he’d placed on the bedside table earlier.

“Alright.” Jack stands up and stretches, then gestures for Bitty to come over to him.

“Thank god,” Bitty mutters under his breath, saving his document and shutting the laptop without powering down.

He drags his body over to Jack’s and falls into him. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and presses his face into Jack’s chest, breathing deeply. He loves how Jack smells. Like soap, and his deodorant, and a little bit of sweat.

Jack’s hands crawl up Bitty’s back, under his shirt, and he rocks Bitty gently side-to-side. Bitty swears he could fall asleep just like this.

Then Jack’s hands start to wander; down to Bitty’s ass, slipping under the elastic of his track pants. Bitty shivers as Jack’s nails scratch the skin, and when he leans back to ask Jack what he’s doing, Jack kisses him.

Normally, when Jack initiates, it’s soft—he appreciates a slow build up. Tonight is different. Jack pushes against Bitty immediately, leaning into him and over him so that Bitty’s body curves back harshly, and Jack seems even taller than normal.

Jack kisses and kisses, his lips moving and sucking on Bitty’s with fervour. Bitty matches him, suddenly wide-awake, and his hands move to bury themselves in Jack’s hair as he attempts to meld his lips to Bitty’s.

“Oh my god. Jack,” Bitty pants and Jack moves on, kissing harshly down his jawline. Bitty’s lips feel swollen and tender when he bites down on one.

Jack pulls back and smiles down, flushed, eyes alight. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Bitty confesses breathlessly, still reeling from the enthusiasm and spontaneity.

“Awake?” Jack asks.

Bitty nods frantically. “Oh yeah. Definitely. Yes.”

“Good.” Jack steps back from Bitty, and grabs his shoulders to turn him around. He leans in close, chest pressing against Bitty’s shoulders, and puts his lips against Bitty’s ear. “Now, go finish your essay.”

Jack shoves a speechless Bitty back toward the desk.

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OVERCOME (M)

Originally posted by jeonify


GENRE: noona&youngerboy, smut

BACKGROUND: Jungkook’s first time had left him traumatized of having sex ever again. It had gone so far to the point that a rumor had even spread about him not being able to get hard-ons. You then decide to step in and prove the rumor wrong. What was supposed to be a simple test of theory leads to a night that you weren’t going to forget for the rest of your life.

AUTHORS NOTE: Omg I haven’t written something in so long. I’m so sorry this took me quite a while. This actually started as a drabble but I kind of got too into it and finished it into a full blown story. I’ll be working on the remaining requests sent to me before, soon I promise you guys, I’m just trying to come up with ideas! But I do hope you enjoy this, tell me what you think. 

Jeon, as forever, is a sinful little shit. 

If there are any errors, I am sorry about those! I did proof read but I know I still missed some. 


Your pen hangs off of your lips, fingers tapping lightly against the glass table as you study the boy in front of you. He has his face buried between the pages of his Physics book, eyes scanning through each paragraph in close precision, oblvious of your scrutiny. You slowly turn your logistics book shut, choosing to ignore your studies as the conversation you had with your brother during last night’s party flashes through your mind.

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“Don’t bother,” he replies grimly, “I said I wasn’t interested in this. If we fucked, sorry for leading you on, if we didn’t, I don’t know why you’d want to be associated with me anyways.” And Harry wants this conversation to end right there, now that he’s said his piece, so he looks back towards Y/N and says, “These are organic grapes, no?”

The girl gets the hint, leaving with a huff and Y/N tuts her tongue at him.

“You’re so mean, Harry! What if she really liked you?”

Harry shakes his head, “She liked my cock not me.” He says apathetically, and Y/N’s face turns towards sheepish like it always does when the mere mention of his escapades comes to head (which it doesn’t often, but he knows Y/N has ears and she hears things), “‘sides, she was rude to you. I don’t like that.” He straightens out, “Did you take your medicine?”

or

Harry doesn’t really like people, but he likes Y/N

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His || Jungkook || 0.17

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13| 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 |

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confession time, here’s what i got

Summary: In which Otabek and Yuri pine for each other a lot, and manage to drag other people into their own problems. (otayuri week day 1! prompt: confessions, otayuri, side pairings viktuuri and saramila, word count: 4095)


Otabek figures out that he loves Yuri when he is twenty-one.

It’s during Yuri’s nineteenth birthday, too. His plane lands exactly at midnight, and he’s rushing to get his baggage as quick as he can to meet his best friend. He sees him the moment he claims baggage – it isn’t hard to miss his long hair or his leopard jacket – and he stretches his arms out as Yuri bolts over to him.

In the next minute, he has him in his arms, and he hears a cheerful, “Beka!” in his ears, and, oh, he realizes. He is in love.

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Kiwi: Part One

A little impromptu mini-series based in Jamaica during the writing/recording of Harry’s new album. Enjoy. xo



The music in the bar was pounding as the sounds of the Caribbean flowed through the humid air. It was a small establishment, one that could probably only accommodate for two hundred people at most. It definitely wasn’t a tourist place; most of those were on the other side of the island with the copious amounts of resorts and hotels that offered travellers sanctuary.

Harry wasn’t there to vacation, though. He was there to write and record his new album.

The bar, “Pipo’s Shack”, was about a ten minute walk from the recording studio that Harry had been working in for the past little bit. It had been a productive couple of days; he’d spent the first night there having a few beers and getting to know his team better. After all, they were going to be working together until this thing was done, so they might as well be comfortable with one another. They all got along splendidly, and the handful of songs they’d managed to bang out so far were promising, but not quite right yet. After a couple of days of straight work, Harry decided that he needed a night off to himself.

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Former Employment

Summary: Professor Stilinski is definitely not expecting to see his favorite porn star among the students of his Human Sexuality class.

Notes: Inspired by this ask. I don’t do power imbalance, so nothing happens until Derek is out of Stiles’ class. Also, while there are mentions of porn, there is no actual smut in this. Sorry. (On AO3)

@nogitsunelichen and @cobrilee – this is probably not what you had in mind, but I wrote it!


When Stiles pushes open the doors to the lecture hall, it’s completely empty. He blinks down at his watch in surprise, and realizes he made the walk across campus faster than he realized. There’s always an adjustment period at the beginning of every semester, where he figures out where his classrooms are and how long it’ll take to get there.

Well, he might as well utilize this time, then. He sits at the desk at the front of the room, and gets back to writing his proposal for a class on the influence of society on gender.

He gradually hears students come in as he works, but he keeps focused, because he knows he has at least another ten minutes before class starts.

But when he hears a student ask, “Hey, are you the professor?” he has to look up, and he begins to wish he’d done it a lot sooner.

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