but he still says it

Girls / Girls / Boys

Word count: 3.8K

[A/N] Four months since my last update but I can assure you that I am alive and well


Dan Howell could proudly say that he had never missed a school Football game.

From the moment he’d entered the school freshman year, he’d started going to the football games on Friday nights, sitting in that same spot on the bleachers with some of his friends each time. It wasn’t so much school spirit that kept him there, it was more about the incredible sights. By which he meant the cheerleaders, of course. Watching pretty girls dance around in short skirts all night, what more could a pubescent boy want?

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anonymous asked:

this isnt fair to the ppl who are trending #jungkookisnowlegal bc we are just genuinely happy that we can LEGALLY date him. (i mean obviously we probably wont date him but who doesnt love hope, like when u match the ideal type of ur bias) do you know how weird some of us feel for having a "crush" on someone whos 17 when we are like old enough to have kids and a family and a house??? i was all for not writing mature fics about him untill he was 18, and now hes 18 and i STILL cant say anything????

It took me so long to answer this because I was so distraught by where to start… I just… 

Originally posted by jimentos

-Admin Kim 

There are people on this website who learn about Bernie Sanders’ intention of going on with the drone program and still have the nerve to say that he’s “still the best option”. The lack of compassion and empathy is amazing. 

6

Festival scene.

Shinjiro suddenly grabs Ken’s hand. Then he tries to leave but Ken is still holding on. Ken says something about how his hand is ~warm~. 

Then Shinji pawns Ken off to Sakuya/Kotone because it’s too embarrassing for him. 

Later Akihiko and Shinji get into an argument over something… I’m not sure. Regardless, Aki fails to catch a goldfish at the imaginary goldfish-catching game, and Shinji one-ups him and gives the prize to Ken. 

Then there’s fireworks.

3

Angels were a complex race. They were powerful. Extremely powerful. And some of them had been on the Earth since nearly the beginning of time. They had watched as history passed bye, every moment of every day.

However, they still weren’t nearly as complex as the humans.

It had been Cas’ very specific job, actually, to watch the humans. And yet he still had a small, dare I say pathetic understanding of them. Sure, he knew how they worked. What they were made of. The technical side of what made the apes go- but the important stuff, like the feelings, and the emotions and the cultures? He was completely ignorant.

But he wanted to learn. He wanted to be more like them. He wanted to understand. And there was only one way to do that.

“Y/N?” He breathed, flying silently into the room behind you. You screamed, unaware of the sudden new presence in the room.

You had been in the kitchen, peacefully minding your own business, and making dinner when out of nowhere, there was a voice behind you. You swung the knife in your hand around reflexively. 

Castiel stepped back calmly, and as soon as you realized it was him you let your arm drop to your side, other hand clutching your chest, taking in deep breaths.

“Did I scare you?” Cas wondered, and you laughed.

“Did you scare me? You nearly gave me a heart attack! What did I tell you about knocking?”

“To always do it.” He said matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t just done the exact opposite of that. you sighed, nodding.

Yes, Cas. Always.” You said.

“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely, and you smiled softly, knowing he truly did feel bad.

“That’s alright, Cassie, just try not to do it again yeah?” You said reassuringly, turning back to continue your cooking.

You stopped though, just before picking up the next potato, and spun back around.

“But why are you here?” You asked, and Castiel straightened himself up a little.

“Right,” He said. “I want to learn what it means to be human.” He said purposefully.

You giggled, which confused Cas. Was that not a valid desire?

“You and me both, buddy. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” You said, and Castiel squinted in thought, tilting his head to the side in concentration.

Where could he start? The idea of human meaning and selfness in the universe was a vast and complex concept, one he knew little about himself, (Which was evidently why he was trying to ask) so what should he say?

Well, he should start with the basics, should he not? exhibits of love and affection. The acts that both tie humans together as a race and what creates them. 

“Why do humans have sex?” He asked bluntly, and you choked, coughing loudly, leaning on the counter. 

“What?” You asked nervously, trying with all your might to hide your blush. 

“I know why humans participate in the act of coitus, for survival and reproduction, but Dean has told me that copulating is much more than that. That it can be based on much deeper emotional connections.” Castiel stated, and you damned the heavens. Literally. Nobody bothered to give him the sex talk up there? Damn Dean too, while you’re at it. He couldn’t have been a bit more descriptive so that you wouldn’t have to be having this terribly uncomfortable conversation about the birds and the bees with the man that you had been crushing on for over a year now? Damn him. 

You took a deep breath, composing yourself. “Well…” You started off shakily, “A lot of people have sex for a lot of reasons…” You mumbled. “Some, like Dean said, because of emotional bonds. Others for… pleasure.” You coughed awkwardly. Castiel seemed oblivious to your discomfort, though.

“Some people do it for both. Some people don’t even like having sex at all.” You stated, and he nodded, brow furrowed in deep concentration. 

“But um, it’s mostly just something some people do when they really love each other. That’s how I’ve always done it, at least. Every bodies different.” You said finally. Castiel nodded, as if processing the information. 

“Is copulation the only way to show ones attraction to another?” He asked, and you giggled. 

“No of course not. Although it is one good way, theres plenty of others. Like… You could do something that wasn’t sexual. Like write them a letter telling them how much you care about them… Or sing them a song… But I guess if we’re staying with the theme of sex then… You could always just… Kiss them…” You breathed, voice trailing off. 

You didn’t know when or how it happened, but you were now mere centimeters away from Castiel’s lips, and you could feel his breath on your face, and see his deep, azure eyes were boring holes into your skin. 

He glanced into your eyes, and you could feel him snaking his arms around your torso, and just before his lips reached yours, he whispered, 
“So if I were to convey to someone how much I’m attracted to them, I would do…” And he punctured his sentence with a kiss. 

His lips were soft and smooth, and he was remarkably skilled for someone who knew nothing about sex. He brought one hand to your cheek, and wrapped the other around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer. 

And you ran your hands up his chest which was astonishingly toned, and around his neck and through his impossibly soft hair, and then-

“that?” He finished finally, pulling away from you breathlessly. You took a moment to adjust, breathing heavily, lips pink and plump, most likely looking both euphoric and disheveled.

“Yes,” you finally uttered. “You could do something like that.”

You opened your eyes finally, to see Castiel smiling softly down at you, his lips similar to yours and his hair sticking up at add angles, altogether looking extremely sexy. 

“Maybe you could teach me a bit more about these human traditions? This time a bit more… in depth?”

Yes. You could definitely do that. 


Requested By: stuckyplsyespls

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jamsrodriguez Look I’m watching what you’re saying and tf you can’t say he’s not racist and say he didn’t know what he was doing I don’t give a fuck if he apologised he still did what he did. If you’re now saying he didn’t mean to do it, then you’re defending his actions and it wouldn’t even matter if he apologised or not. Just cause he’s a real play don’t mean the world will end when someone talks shit about his racist actions smh start walking

anonymous asked:

Tbh, I was confused by kanye's speech cuz it was all over the place. I get some of the points he was saying, but I still don't fully understand it all.

ok let’s go over it (under the cut: my explanation of kanye’s speech wow i have too much time on my hands someone give me a hobby)

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anonymous asked:

Do you think Juuzou wrote anything on the piece of paper he threw as a paper airplane? Shinohara told him to write something, and he usually always does what Shinohara says.

Hmm probably not. He doesn’t necessarily do everything that Shinohara tells him, although I think by that point in the story, he tries to do things that Shinohara says are important. Still, Juuzou has no real concept of death and doesn’t really have many material things (as far as we’re aware). He only really cares about his quinque, and I don’t think he gives any thought to what will happen if he dies, nor do I think he cares who his things go to. So writing a will is really just, I would think, a strange activity to him. I think he folded up the paper and made it an airplane because they whole thing was too absurd (in his mind) to really engage with. 

We see a strong counterpoint in Takizawa, who is so overwhelmed by the thought of his death that he can’t write a will. He does, but then he splashes over it with ink, begging god or the universe or whoever is listening not to let him die. Of course, he doesn’t, his fate is worse than death. But the anguish he feels is that of a person who recognizes that they have a great deal to lose. Juuzou doesn’t perceive his life that way, and therefore, I think his paper remains blank, or perhaps with a few scribbles on it. 

Ultimately, canon doesn’t offer an answer for this question. So I think what mattered more was not his words, but his actions. Folding the paper into an airplane and throwing it of a building was the perfect symbolism for how he felt about the whole thing: apathetic, with a side of whimsy, which was his entire MO until after he lost Shinohara. 

  • soul-residues
Play

I’m re-doing a few poems that I read before. I didn’t pronounce Nikos’ name correctly in those earlier recordings either. I still don’t say it the way he does but I’m a little better. Here is his poem.

somewhere
beyond islands and continents
beyond seas and oceans
beyond space and time
there is the land
of different choices
of untold things
of hidden desires
and we can only
dream of it

original poetry by soul-residues Thank you Nikos for letting me read your poetry. I think I did better this time. 

Daredevil Preference: How He Looks at You

Matt: While he couldn’t “look” at you he have you his undivided attention no matter what. If he was reading and you started to say something he would immediately still his hands and face your direction. 

 Wesley: He looked at you like you were a piece of art, wondering how something so beautiful and complex could ever exist. He looked at you with adoration, warmth, and made you feel like the most important thing in the universe. 

 Anatoly: Every time he looked at you it felt like he was trying to memorize every detail about you. His eyes would follow your every curve, he looked at you like you were the world.

Vladimir: He looked at you like he was a predator and you were prey. He made you feel wanted, safe, and undeniably thrilled.

anonymous asked:

things you said over the phone + zarry (no angst pls)

things you said over the phone

“There were more tonight.”

Harry hears Zayn laugh softly on the other end of the phone. He should probably get up, shower away the sweat and adrenaline from the show, but he’s quite comfortable here lying off the end of the bed and not moving. His head feels a bit dreamy, which is probably because he’s dehydrated and is basically hanging upside down.

“I think a lot of the fans still really miss you,” he continues when Zayn doesn’t say anything.

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tw: voyeurism/peeping, sexual harassment




I caught my grandfather peeping in my bedroom window today while I was fully nude after taking a shower. I’m so angry and so tired. Full disclosure, 4 years ago when I was 18 my grandfather came to my room one night and asked me to participate in sexual acts with him. I told him no, and he told me he would come to my room every night and knock on my door and hope that I would change my mind. He still does come to my room door every night to say good night, and I know he’s not just saying good night. I know because a few months ago after my family found out about my relationship with Jonathan, he came into my room to tell me how my dead mom and dead grandmother would be ashamed of me for having a sexual relationship with the man I love. And I confronted him, for the first time really, about the things he said that night, “and they wouldn’t be disgusted with you?” He told me what he’s told me before, that I didn’t understand his intentions that night. He said he was just trying to find out if I was sexually active. He said he was sorry, and asked me if I wanted him to stop coming to say good night to me, because he knows the real reason why he comes to bedroom door every night. And as hard as he’s tried to make me and others believe I’m mistaken/crazy/lying, there’s no way to misconstrue what he wanted. And it’s not just what he asked me that night, before and since then, he’s told me things like how the arch of my foot and me wearing gym shorts give him “a tingle.” He’s told me on multiple occasions that he would date me if I had been his age. He has also taken specific measures to cover for himself. The night he asked me to have sex with him, he wrote a poem in two parts and left part one on my bed. When I went to give it back to him, he brought me back to my room, closed the door and read the second part, which was on another sheet of paper, in which he asked me to have sex or participate in sexual acts with him. Since the incident he has denied the existence of the second part of the poem. He has kept the first part, which was less salacious albeit still creepy, and claimed he could send it in to be published at any good, Christian family magazine. He says he only asked me those questions because he suspected me of being sexually active, and the only way for him to find out was to see if I would have sex with him. He disgusts me. I don’t even want him to look at me. But I have to live with him because I have no where else to go right now.

I’ve suspected him of peeping in my window for a long time. At first I tried to tell myself I was being paranoid bc I’ve been peeped on before by a neighbor when I lived at my parents house. But I began to notice that I only heard these noises outside the bedroom window right next to my bed, and I only heard them when I was just finished showering. Today, after my shower I got distracted by my phone and was lying in bed still naked. I heard noises outside my window, and I covered myself with a blanket. Then I waited at least 15 minutes, bc if someone was out there I didn’t want to get up and expose myself. After a while of not hearing any noises outside, I got up and walked across the room to change. I was looking in the mirror when I heard the noises again, so I quickly threw on a dress that was lying nearby and exited my room. The room outside mine has a large window that gives a view of the sliding door to the back porch that is right outside my window, and I watched my grandfather try to quietly re-enter the house from the back porch. I know that’s not actually catching him peeping, but I know that’s what he was doing. It was 11 at night. There’s nothing on our back porch, and he didn’t even turn on the light out there. There was no reason for him to be out there except to watch me. 

I’m so fucking tired of this. I have tried to get over this stuff for a long time, but he doesn’t even give a shit how this effects me. He doesn’t even try to stop himself. I fucking hate him. I’m tired of this always happening, every where I go. I’m tired of being watched, harassed, and assaulted constantly. I’m tired of not being able to trust anyone. I’m tired of always being so conscious of my body and my surroundings and the eyes on me, but I can’t stop. I can’t let my guard down. I’m never safe. I feel so disgusted and disgusting. There are no safe places, and I’m just tired of everything. 


This lovely lady here is Shinki’s mother ovo Camilla is a real sweetheart,a wonderful strong mama and protects what’s dear to her. (Is a cinnamon roll but actually could kill you. ) Before her son of course she was the forest guardian. She also worked on the fields and helped out at many other places. Nature lover,cheerful lady. 

I was thinking a lot like “ Should I show her,should I not? “ XD But I couldn’t resist,she’s too cute to me. Shinki remembers her like that,how she looked the last time when he saw her,before her death when he was around 10. Or I would say disappearance since Shinki still wants to believe that she’ll return as she promised.

Art,Camilla belongs to me © dreamer-rena-universe / yunie-kitsune

anonymous asked:

Your relationship didnt change AT ALL when you went from "slut walks are empowering" to anti-pornography? Really? I find that hard to beleive. Does this mean he still watches porn then?

I didn’t say it didn’t change, I said it didn’t affect my relationship, since I took “affect” to mean “impacted negatively.” Neither one of us watches porn, why the hell would I marry someone who did something I find morally repugnant?

He stands there for a moment. Then, taking a step backward, he raises his long thin finger so it’s pointing directly at my heart.

“You, Joyce—” he says, finger still pointing. "You. You. You.” His whole body is quaking, and his eyes stare out at me as if he were beholding a sight of unspeakable horror.

“The problem with you, Joyce, is… you—love—the—world.”

“Yes,” I say, smiling. “Yes, I do love the world. And I’ve raised three children who love the world, too.”

“I knew you would amount to this,” he says. “Nothing.” He, the man who told me that if there was anything he knew at all, it was that I would be a true writer no matter what. Nobody, ever, could take that away from me, he told me once. Never forget that, he said. Let no one ever tell you what to say. Trust nothing but your own strong voice.

“I want to say good-bye to you, Jerry,” I say.

“I don’t hear well,” he says.

joyce maynard’s at home in the world is just utterly transfixing, and this scene is everything. this image has stuck in my head for years and i don’t really have words for how inspiring joyce is. she’s a phoenix i love her