do not speak to me of this thing don't even look at me

malteser22  asked:

#24 'Don't look at me like that!' please :) xxx

24. Don’t look at me like that

aka THE SOPPY BIRTHDAY FIC RJS DESERVES

Robert wakes up slowly. There are gentle fingers sifting through his hair and familiar lips peppering kisses up the back of his neck. Aaron is a warm weight all along his back. He turns his head to smile into the pillow. He’s never moving.

“Happy birthday, husband,” Aaron murmurs, breath stirring the hair behind Robert’s ear. It makes him shiver.

God. Thirty five. He’s bloody ancient. 

Robert’s never really been bothered about birthdays. Not much point when no one else cared. But they matter to Aaron and that means they matter to him now. Besides, Robert’s never been one to complain about being adored.

Aaron shifts until he’s propped up on an elbow and Robert rolls on to his back with a sigh, stretching. It never gets old, seeing Aaron first thing in the morning. Seeing him still soft and open and so wonderfully, perfectly Robert’s. He’s so lucky.

Some of what he’s feeling must show on his face because Aaron’s eyes go warm and he leans down for a kiss. Soft and sweet, a wet little suck of Robert’s bottom lip.

“So what’s the plan?” Robert asks, when Aaron’s pulled back it’s clear that’s all he’s getting for now. “Party over the road or into town with Adam and Vic?”

Aaron raises en eyebrow. “Am I really that predictable?” he asks. “Maybe there is no plan, maybe this is your lot.”

Robert grins, lifts the duvet to peer down at Aaron’s naked body teasing. “I could probably make do,” he says.

“You could probably fuck off,” Aaron says primly but he’s smiling ruefully, teeth in his bottom lip.

“Now is that anyway to treat the love of your life on his birthday?”

That gets him an eye roll and Aaron’s leg slung across Robert’s thigh.

“Maybe the love of my life should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Aaron suggests, as though his hand isn’t already on its way to cup Robert’s balls, fingers teasing at the skin behind them. 

“Never,” he says. And if he’s already a little breathless, well, Aaron doesn’t call him on it. It is his birthday after all. 

It takes Aaron exactly sixteen minutes to get him off. Two fingers crooked just right and Robert’s dick down his throat. Robert spends most of that time working his jaw silently at the ceiling, one hand in the sheets and the other gripping Aaron’s shoulder for dear life. He shouts when he comes and Aaron doesn’t even call him on that either. It really is good to be the birthday boy.

Aaron kisses him after. He tastes of Robert and damn if that isn’t always far sexier than it should be, but he twitches away when Robert reaches for him properly. “We, ah. Should probably head downstairs,” he says. “Liv’s probably about ready to kill me.”

Robert feels his face go slack, “Liv’s here?” He’s already out of bed. There’s a t shirt on the floor, that’ll do. She wasn’t meant to be back ‘til the weekend, Robert was supposed to be making to drive to collect her so she didn’t spend all her student loan on train fare.

Aaron politely refrains from laughing. “Course she is, it’s your birthday.”

No one can prove that Robert runs down the staircase. At least he doesn’t insist on constantly sliding down the bannister like it’s a bloody helter skelter. Like some people.

Robert stutters to a stop in the kitchen doorway. Because it’s not just Liv at the table, jumper held over her nose to hide a grin, it’s bloody everyone. Not even just Vic or Diane, Charity is there. And Noah and Marlon and a couple of Dingles he only ever speaks to at Christmas dinner. They’re all there, dotted around the kitchen in between a mass of balloons and drinking Robert’s expensive coffee. 

They’re also all looking at him like they know exactly what he was just doing but Robert’s too stunned to feel any shame. Isn’t great at that at the best of times.

He turns to Aaron helplessly.

Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that! It wasn’t my idea.”

Liv gets up for a hug. “He knew about it though,” she says, pulling a face. “So gross.”

Which makes everyone laugh and winds up with Liv in a head lock under Aaron’s arm for most of a quite rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

Robert tucks into his cake in shock, accepts hugs from all the ladies in the room, doesn’t even pull a face when Chas slaps a party hat on him. He can’t believe they came here for him.

He tells Aaron as much later, when they’re clearing away sticky plates and ferrying glasses to the sink for Liv.

Aaron knocks his knuckles to Robert’s chest as he passes. “S’what family’s for innit?”

Robert catches his sleeve, tugs him back in for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says.

“Thank Liv, I just paid for the cake.”

“No,” Robert says, lets his voice go soft like it only ever does for Aaron. And Liv and Vic, if he’s feeling soppy. “Thank you for all of it. For everything. For,” he shrugs, at a loss. “For this life.”

Aaron’s smile is tender, like something inside him hurts. “Robert, we love you okay? I love you. You don’t have to say thank you for that.”

Robert nods. “Must be getting sentimental in my old age.”

He gets another kiss for that.

All in all, it’s shaping up to be good day.

on the new Iron Fist series

So after binge watching a ton of Marvel’s new Iron Fist series, I went onto tumblr, wondering what the fandom was up to now, what with all these new gifs and stuff to make. ‘Maybe I would find some fan art or something’ I thought innocently to myself,

BUT BOY WAS I WRONG

instead, I was greeted with SO MUCH DISCOURSE on how Iron Fist ‘needs a chinese-american actor’ or ‘has terrible dialogue and is slow’.

the best part is when I found out that some of y’all are trying to get this show boycotted like ‘????’

Now as a Chinese-speaking Asian female, living in Asia, with an Asian background and a good know-how of Chinese history, as well as a decent knowledge of comic books, (although I confess I got into the animated series first) I’m here to end the discussion before y’all get your full rage on and start fighting fans of the show like it’s Lord of the Flies up in here

So keep reading if you want to be educated or if you just want to fight me before you know what you’re even talking about

“THE SHOW INSULTS CHINESE CULTURE”

Uhhhh…no? I’ve seen a few episodes and I mean so far there isn’t really anything that screams ‘insult’ or even offensive in the slightest. Besides maybe the fact that they take the beliefs and twist them a little bit but honestly even that ain’t that bad as to what I’ve seen elsewhere.

I’ve read the boycott post and let me say that yea, they dressed him with an eye for Asian elements, but maybe that’s because it’s supposed to be resembling Asian clothing? I mean how is that offensive? Is it the part that it looks Asian? Or that you simply feel that white people that direct these shows should not be using Asian stuff for entertainment? Because I hate to break it to you but it’s still not offensive. Even the dragon tattoo is totally fine because it’s supposed to resemble Asian elements yea but also have y’all read the comics? Because he punched through a dragon and basically took it’s heart. So I mean a dragon tattoo kinda matches the theme.

I mean in the first episode they speak almost flawless Chinese for Pete’s sake! Hell, I was surprised that they even had it in them to have a non-Google translated line. Sure the accent was a little overdoing it cuz not even I have that thick a Chinese accent but I’ll excuse it since he was apparently learning and speaking 15 years. (I speak it maybe a few times a day for like the last 14 years or so only)

So no, the show doesn’t really insult Chinese culture, sure they might be ignorant, but you must understand that after generations of stereotypes and misconceptions that that can’t just go away with one show

“Danny Rand should be played by an Asian guy/be a Chinese-American”

I can’t even begin to tell you my frustration about this.

Y’all do know this show is based on the comics right?

You know, the one with the white guy.

I know Marvel is infamous for not including enough representation in their shows but seriously? This is like the Harry Potter thing all over again with Hermione being black, it’s not that we don’t want representation or anything, but it’s the fact that this hero that us comic fans have come to already love has been replaced. Or at least it feels like it. Like when a movie is made from a book and people go crazy because character XYZ suddenly has different traits or isn’t quite what was described as compared to the book.

Frankly, it sucks.

So even though yes, Marvel should have more Asians in their shows, don’t expect them to completely give the main character a makeover, even if the makeover was supposed to provide representation. And honestly? I don’t want them to change him because I really freaking love Iron Fist, just as he is.

“This show just villainizes Asians”

So you tell me that my race is being made villains because Marvel decided that most of their Asians on their shows are evil ninjas (aka the Hand) and at most there are like 3 sorta good Asians. Oh and I’m sorry, you want more Asian men that are good guys? You want a balance of Asian heroes?

Well I guess that would be kind of hard to fit into the story since, oh, I don’t know, everything happens in the USA?

If you want more Asian characters well then look no further because you do have them. Daisy Johnson from Agents of Shield? What about her extremely brave mom? Or maybe Colleen in Iron Fist? Everyone seems to be blatantly ignoring her badassery and only seeing the part where she’s a sorta love interest.

Facts are, there are Asian characters, you’re really just looking hard enough. I agree wholeheartedly when you say that more Asian men need to be in the Marvel universe that aren’t part of the bad guy team but you gotta say that they are still awesome.

Does anyone even remember the Japanese ninja yakuza guy from Daredevil? Dude got set on fire and STILL came back to kick ass. That’s a plus in my book because even though he’s considered bad, he’s been proven to be cunning, smart, and overall awesome.

“The show has terrible stunts/acting/dialogue/fight scenes”

From here on out it’s mostly just me trying to explain why the directors and writers of the show made decisions in the show to make it what it is, so let’s dive right into it.

  • STUNTS

Actually the stunts weren’t half-bad. If you’ve seen other shows or movies that are heavily reliant on stunts and action, and compare it to this show, they really aren’t that much different. Sure it might seem a little unbelievable sometimes like they’re breaking physics or something, but he already has a glowing fist. I think we’ve crossed the line of believable long ago.

  • ACTING

I have nothing to say about this except that go and take some acting or drama classes before coming and criticizing these awesome men and women who did indeed try their best

  • DIALOGUE

Now I get the dialogue might be a little weird at times and what not, but you must understand that this show was partially written with the Defenders series in mind. So almost everything that was said in the show is meant to lead to something more. Thus, you must take it as a bigger picture. Sorta like how everyone said that Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them wasn’t as good as they thought it would be, that movie was also meant to lead on to a bigger story so you might want to excuse the weird speech and cryptic lines at times.

  • FIGHT SCENES & ACTION

Okay seriously people, please read the comics. Danny Rand is supposed to be an accidental hero, one that doesn’t want to fight unless he really has zero choice in the matter. So yea, the fight scenes won’t be that interesting, but only because the character in question is more interested in ending the fight than anything.

~

So there you have it, my whole slightly angry info-dump on Iron Fist and Marvel’s representation problem in general. If you want to correct me or scold me even then by all means message me or shoot me an ask. But just keep in mind that Marvel can’t make all your problems go away in one show, and please for the love of all that is good read the comics before coming to rant okay?

anonymous asked:

If the art was that good people would see it anyway. Without the artist needing to reblog it 100 times

I see you’re stemming from liv’s @larvesta own answer about this and I’m not gonna lie, I’m really hesitant about saying anything on the matter bc i don’t do this kind of thing but I realise people actually think this way so here’s a proper answer. 

It doesn’t work that way. I should know, I should really know. People here on Tumblr get lucky often and you wouldn’t think that, especially if you don’t create content yourself. Things just don’t become popular all of a sudden, most of the time it needs to get reblogged by the right person and add the balance between having good content yourself as well as an ongoing status as a creator. Not to mention how you go about treating your followers, your personality and how you act here. And you’ll tell me; “But people with good art have so many notes! It must be because they’re good! See, you don’t need to reblog it so many times!”

I hope you know what it feels like to be an artist here because I do. I especially do. I have talked, reblogged, supported, and have met so many, too many artists here, some insanely obscure. Some whose work looks like it took so many hours and has very little over 50 notes; my work included. And I can tell you now that I can personally handpick and tell you that some of the work I’m most proud of and have took many hours on are not over 200 notes. I’m not saying I’m frustrated by that, because some of us are reassured in our skill but let me tell you that every time I think of a fellow artist out there who releases amazing art and earns very little notes who looks at their note count and wonders if they are good enough, my heart breaks. And there’s young artists who are still getting by, who are not as good yet but took the same amount of effort and time, they deserve to be cheered on. 

Because people think artists here are machines, capable of creating content without regards to who actually appreciates it. No one is like that, artists are fragile just like everyone else and people really forget that. They really do. 

People don’t just see the art out of nowhere, do you understand the huge amount in this platform? There’s millions of work everywhere, you need to be supported to be seen, you need to withstand the thousands of others around you and you might have to create something that’s away from the norm to stand out, you might have to take hours of your time. You don’t know unless you really indulge yourself this platform, you don’t know unless you yourself do work for more than four hours, no breaks and absolutely tired, and look at your note count to see a disheartening number. You have no idea, you really don’t.

And don’t guilt them, please. I could reblog my art so many times, but sometimes the thougt of ‘maybe it gets annoying’ always bears in my mind, artists are made to feel like it’s okay that they’re not being appreciated. I’m proud of those who reblog their art because they know they deserve better, and guess what? They do.  

There’s a difference between good content and popular content, popular content aimed towards a specific audience that you know will like and reblog that. Good content is a dangerous hit and miss. I really appreciate people who do art for things that are not popular, because sometimes they really do have to rely solely on their skills. I say it’s a dangerous hit and miss because you know it might not have that specific audience, but you still take the effort and time into it anyway. Imagine that; knowing something is popular but going for the alternative anyway; taking time, taking effort, putting your all into it. That’s absolutely insane, man. Imagine knowing you can put that time and effort into something popular that might attract way more notes, but still doing something else for the sake of that something else. 

Also there’s the matter of timezones, in which there’s a worldly concept that everyone is in different times and not everyone is here at the same time to see the same content. I don’t want to explain this; please at least understand the concept of time. 

Artists reblog their work because they want others to see it, to appreciate it. Because sometimes it’s the only way others can. Reblogging their own work is an artist’s way of supporting themselves and you think I’m going to let you let them think that that’s a bad thing? That they’re not allowed to do that? Go home, buddy. 

I don’t have anything against anyone, I just wrote this realising that people actually think this is actually how it works and even then, I don’t have anything against you, maybe you’re just misinformed, some just don’t know enough about this to really understand. 

So here it is buds: support artists supporting themselves. It’s as simple as that. 

there’s something about even’s little nod in this scene 

because even knows. he’s not oblivious, he notices the way isak reacts to his presence, to him. he’s been noticing him for weeks, weeks before they first met. he saw the way isak was when he came over to his place the previous week, he saw the look in his eyes, the light in his eyes, he saw the way he smiled and laughed, he noticed the changes in his voice. he probably memorized his facial expressions and the things he said last friday. kept replaying them in his mind every single day, in class, before going to bed, when he was with other people 

earlier in that episode, when he came to give isak his snapback, in a matter of seconds, he understood that isak hadn’t told his friends he had gone to his place, he understood that he didn’t want them to know. because he sees and understands. he remembered the cardamom on the cheese toasties five weeks later, how they were sitting on the floor of his room as they ate them, he remembered isak saying he had a drop of water in his throat, he remembered isak talking about parallel universes. because he pays such close attention to isak and the way he looks and moves and speaks and all the things he says

do you think that even, who saw this boy on the first day of school, who was probably looking forward to seeing him even when it was just at school, in public, in rooms and hallways with other students, would not notice how isak was acting? notice the way he’s been looking at him the moment he showed up at his place for the pregame? the way he starred at him when he kissed sonja and looked at him straight in the eyes? how tensed he was as he told him about sonja and how they’d been together for years? the intonation of his voice as he said his okay’s (been together since we were 15. okay. can’t dump her. okay). do you think that even who’s been desperately trying to spend time alone with this boy he was falling for would not notice the smile that spread all over isak’s face when he realized that even was messing with him, the smile he was trying to stop it, in vain? do you think he would not sense his attraction to him? the vulnerability?

of course even notices. and since he came to see isak in his kitchen, he’s only been kidding, pretending not to be serious. but with that little nod, he grows more serious. with that little nod, it’s like he’s saying i see you, i see it, i’ve seen you for a while. it’s reassuring. it’s okay. it’s understanding. i know, isak. i know. me too

Mi Amor

 Daveed Diggs x Latina!Reader

Requested by anon: Hi. It’s the anon who asked about the Latina reader here. I was wondering if you’d do like where Daveed and the reader are really good friends but Lin knows she has a crush on him and he’s teasing her about it but daveed overhears them mention him and doesn’t understand them cause they’re talking in Spanish. He asked her about it or something and then fluff or smut! I don’t know…. Your other fics are amazing so I know this one will be to die for no matter what! Gracias!! ❤❤

Words: 3,675

Warnings: Swearing and SMUTTT. A LOT OF IT idk what else you want from me ahahaha

A/N: This was SO FUN to write but Idk I’m sorry if this was so bad lol I THINK I’VE OFFICIALLY MADE THE SINNERS CLUB LOLOL OKOKOK

Keep reading

3

Alright, HERE we go! Awhile ago I had an idea for a MP100/Voltron crossover, and after mentioning it to @x-i-l-verify​ and loooots of brainstorming later, we have…*gestures vaguely* this. These are more or less screenshot redraws just to kind of get across who is who. :) More info, reasonings and musings under the cut, because well…it got long…

Keep reading

I feel like tsukishima and yamaguchi are both terrible at communicating in different ways. I know tsukishima is one that’s usually considered bad at communicating (and I can totally see how) but please consider that yamaguchi…

  • has yet to share his internal turmoil about not being a starter with anyone
  • went off the team to an outside, rather unaffiliated adult for help instead of to his upperclassmen or teachers
  • shares more about tsukishima than he does about himself and subconsciously uses tsukishima as a social shield
  • clams up after losing to seijoh
  • held off on talking to tsukishima about real ass things that bothered him until his emotions boiled over and he ended up just screaming his emotions to his best friend in the middle of the night in a rather public place
  • (and as it turns out, tsukishima actually had no problems accepting yamaguchi’s words and heard him out with minimal resistance so all of yamaguchi’s internal reasons for not speaking up sooner just kind of flew out the window)
  • will 100% say nothing is wrong when everything is going to shit
  • has never ever verbalized his emotions in any serious context to any of his teammates
  • won’t talk to his best friend about Important Things™ sometimes because he’s afraid it’ll annoy him enough and he’ll presumably stop being friends with him despite not having any evidence supporting that theory
  • is super competitive but rarely shows it
  • is the kind of guy that you look back and realize you know very little about personally
  • is the kind of guy who blows up at people for not knowing things he didn’t actually communicate or suddenly bursts with boiled-over frustration and leaves you going “um where did that come from?”
  • apologizes the next day and insists you forget about it and that he’s just fine and nothing is wrong haha dw about it
  • has really only cracked jokes with tsukishima and (very recently) hinata
  • tends to dance around topics or questions that he doesn’t want to answer
  • sucks at communicating despite being so bubbly and talkative

Don’t get me wrong, tsukishima has his own issues with communication to be sure, but they’re different. Tsukishima simply refuses to communicate on important things 90% of the time, especially if the issue really bothers him because that’s getting into emotions and that’s not what he’s here for. He’s embarrassed and a bit awkward about sharing so he cages off instead, and he doesn’t do well with approaching people who don’t approach him first. But on the flip side, he seems to own his lack of skill better and has less hang ups about it. At the very least he doesn’t seem bothered when people don’t know much about him because no duh, how could they understand him or his feelings if he doesn’t share? That’s tsukishima’s take on it and he’s got it on the nose there. Also, when directly confronted or when he actually decides to open up by himself, tsukishima’s words are very honest and blunt and they invite little room for misunderstandings. 

Yamaguchi’s communication problems stem from a different place. He’s a great communicator… to an extent. Whereas tsukishima’s hang up is just that he’s a very private person who feels uncomfortable opening up, yamaguchi’s stems from the fact that he wants to but is simultaneously too embarrassed or afraid to. He’d like to both communicate how he’s feeling and keep his cards close to his chest, and since he can’t actually have it both ways his emotions end up being turned into some sort of ticking time bomb. He holds anything he feels is too important to share at bay until that’s no longer an option and he blows up at someone or something very suddenly. Like he kinda wants people to know about things but my god he doesn’t want to have to tell them. And even when he is opening up he’ll often stall or dance around the issue a bit. Yamaguchi is a good talker and he’s more of an extrovert than tsukishima, but that doesn’t make him a master communicator by any stretch of the imagination. 

Klance Fic Recs, AU Settings I

Okay so I might end up making multiple parts for AU settings. This one contains mostly occupational/hobby/setting AU stuff. So unless an AU fic prominently featured a certain element, it’ll go on another list. So there are some College AUs, 2 Soulmate AUs, and maybe a few others. 

SPORTS

Olympians
house on fire by ilgaksu
When Lance McClain is eighteen, he qualifies for the Olympics.

When he’s nineteen, he meets Keith.

Correlation does not mean cause, until it totally does.

your love is bright as ever by aknightley (gymnast!Keith, swimmer!Lance)
A brief interlude in the future of the Olympic AU, Christmas with Keith and Lance and their cats.

“This always looks easier in those made for television movies,” Keith tells Blue, who rolls over and out of his lap, chasing her own bits of tinsel.

In It To Win It by Lucy_Claire
One of two things was happening right now, either Lance was having a heart attack on of the biggest day of his life, or he had just laid eyes on his Soulmate.
_______

Competitive swimmer Lance McClain feels his Timer counting down right when he’s about to jump in the water and finish up his race. He’s faced with two choices in this moment: Continue the race and miss meeting his Soulmate at their fateful time or abandon his life’s work for someone he never met.Lance makes his choice and has to suffer the consequence of never getting back what he missed out on. Or does he?

Swimmers
Ocean Eyes by spacezuko
Lance himself doesn’t even believe in his own abilities. He is drowning in his own pool of desire to be everything that he claims he is. Everything that he wants to be. Keith wonders if he’s broken Lance because he doesn’t say a word, his eyes filled with something opaque that Keith can’t quite pinpoint the meaning of. Lance’s eyes are a deep blue. Not the typical morning sky blue, but the kind of ocean blue one wants to drown in.

With legs like these by Queerswimming
In which Lance finds out that there’s a pool in the castle and challenges Keith to a race.

Lance did NOT think this through. Because not a single thing in this universe could’ve prepare him for the sight of Keith in nothing but a red pair of swimming trunks.

Keith has one arm bend behind his head and stretches it with the other. His back arches beautifully, presenting Lance a perfect view of his well-defined torso. At least the last thing Lance sees right before he dies are those ripped abs.

Football
Mistakes were made by Lynn1998
Lance can’t stand the captain of the football team…so why is he having sex with him?
Part 1 of skinny band nerd takes it up the ass from the beefcake football captain series

Ice Skating/Hockey
On Thin Ice (WIP) by Minadora
Once upon a time, two Canadian nerds decided to start a figure skating au about their two space sons and their wonderful misfit friends. Ten pages of headcanons later we finally put electronic pen to electronic paper and created this monstrosity.

This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets forcibly enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to “work on his footwork”. There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater.Enjoy the ride because it’s only just started.

Kiss My Ice (WIP) by delictor
Lance hasn’t skated in a year since the accident that cost him the Olympics. Keith can’t skate for shit but that doesn’t stop him from catching Lance’s attention, even when he can’t so much as stand up after falling on the ice.

‘When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream.’

“Soon as we’re off this ice you’re dead.” Keith’s threat is an empty one and he knows Lance can tell by the way he laughs at it.
“Serious question though, do you not know who I am?” Lance questions.
“Should I?”
“No, I guess not.” Lance shrugs. “I’m gonna twirl you, okay?”
“No, no don't—wait!” Keith cries out as he’s suddenly viewing the entire arena and his legs go rigid before colliding into Lance’s chest, his chest rising and falling with laughter, hands gripping Keith’s upper arms gently. “Put me back on land.”
“Technically, we are on land.”
“We’re on frozen water, get me off it.”

Quidditch (Non Hogwarts AU)
The Marks We Make (WIP) by wittyy_name
Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he’ll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don’t say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It’s not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can’t bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he’s resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he’ll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He’s just an art student who’s struggling to find his place in the world. There’s so much he hasn’t been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can’t do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

Surfers (mostly surfer!Lance)
Should I Stand Up on Fear (And Tell You How I Feel?) by Lulatic
“So, it’s really a good thing that Lance got distracted before he dragged you out there with him,” Hunk chuckled. “I guess flirting became more important than your guys’ rivalry.’

Keith blushed again, looking away with a huff. “Yeah, whatever. He’ll probably be distracted long enough that I can go back to the Castle before he decides I need some surfing lessons.”

Pidge laughed, that kind of cheeky giggle that made Keith and Hunk look over at them with wide eyes. Pidge raised a single eyebrow at Keith, grinning mischievously. “Oh, but you won’t be going back to the Castle any time soon, now will you? Not when Lance is out there, soaking wet, wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks.”

Pride Tide by lemoninagin
He’d stared up, watched the differing patches of sunlight play the most stunning array of colored patterns across Keith’s pale face as he grinned mischievously over him. Time slowed, his own breathing became laboured and caught in his throat.

“You can teach me, right?” Keith had asked in a shyer voice than usual, brushing the tangled mess of his windswept hair away from his eyes and cocking his head towards the boards.

Save his smile by Queerswimming
Keith wants to protect Lance’s smile and finds his answer at the beach. Starring an awkward Keith, Surfer Lance and Hunk playing a giant ice berg.

Lance caresses the wood gently. His eyes turn soft as he speaks. “My big brother taught me how to build a board.” He laughs softly. “I always messed it up though. I wasn’t patient enough to do it right.“ He taps on the wood and looks at Keith with a sad smile that knocks the breath out of Keith lungs.

“Who would have thought that I would build a surf board in space though.”

He laughs at that but Keith can tell that Lance is faking it. He always can.

Roller Derby
Like Devo by surveycorpsjean
As rival jammers, they’re rough, skating around the rink, giving bruises, bloody noses, broken ribs and snapped fingers-

But when the cops show up, Keith grabs his hand and yanks Lance into the storm drain.

And thats how they start dating.

Streetracing
Purple Lamborghini by warschach
“I need you to focus on this race. No more hate flirting with Keith as much as I enjoy it. I like winning more.”

He scoffed, “I don’t flirt.”

“Then stop saying you’re going to teach him how to ride.”

“I was talking about driving. Duh,” Lance countered with an attitude mastered purely by Valley girls and entitled customers.

“Yea, Lance it doesn’t come off like that at all. It sounds like you’re gonna fuck him.”

“I’m not.”

ARTISTS (also including Musicians and Modeling)

Photographer
Pretty Boy by MilkTeaMiku (photographer!Keith)
A pretty Spanish boy shoves a bouquet of flowers under his nose and tells him to stop and smell the roses, so Keith does.

Roommates by manamune (photographer!Lance, artist!Keith)
(13:24) Lance: Thank you!! Love you, Keith!!!

(13:55) Keith: I’m screenshotting that for the next time you deny it.

Sight for Sore Eyes by writewild
Photographer!Lance’s deadline for the magazine he works on the side for is coming up really soon, and has to search last-minute photo opportunities soon. One boy catches his eye.

Riptide by songsofthespring (photographer!keith, surfer!Lance)
Keith fumbles with the camera around his neck and lines up a shot. The boy coasting down a wave, one hand kissing the water. Keith zooms in as far as his lens will allow him. Droplets frame the boy’s brown skin and cling to his hair and chest. His eyes, little pinpricks of light from this distance, are nevertheless still recognizably as bright as the ocean itself. It looks like he could be dancing when he rides a wave; every part of his lanky frame seems to merge with the board and the ocean beneath him.

He’s beautiful.

Foreign Scenes (WIP) by bwyn
Lance has been dreaming of travelling since the first time he heard stories from his family as a child. Now, having finally the time and money to do it, he goes on a trip to Europe to see some of the most culturally rich cities on the continent. Except he keeps bumping into the same guy over and over again, in random cities, doing stupid shit, and ultimately dragging Lance into his trouble, too.

Basically an AU in which Lance and Keith become impromptu travel buddies and get into trouble.

Artist
7 Days to Fall For You by saiikavon (artist!Keith, ballerina!Lance)

Keith is an art student who mostly keeps to himself, taking note of the beauty in life but keeping his distance from it. This includes the beautiful dancer he sees across the street from his apartment…until a week-long art project pushes him to change that.

(For Klance Secret Santa 2016)

And Now You’re Mine (WIP) by Samyx914 (some artist!Keith)
“No, really. I’ve been thinking about that movie since I got up and that’s the only copy they have and I want it.”

“But, I was faster.”

“But, I want to watch it.” The stranger laughs.

“Well, you could always come home with me to watch it.” He says with a wink.

“Okay.” The stranger’s eyes widen. What the fuck, Keith? No. You don’t go home with strangers… Anymore. 

In which Keith wants to watch a movie, so he goes to find it at Walmart. When there’s only one copy left and someone else picks it up first, his only option is to go home with a stranger. Keith didn’t count on this stranger being so easy to fall for.

Visions by becca2793
"It’s funny, because as a tattoo artist he makes art that lasts pretty much forever – as far as the person who has it is concerned – but a street artist…their art lasts maybe a couple of days.”

Keith comes in for a tattoo; Lance immediately falls in love. With his art. His love for Keith comes later.

Take the Easel Way Out by svensationalist
Oh no, he’s hot, Lance thinks while he’s dying.

(Pidge elbows Lance sharply a little while later. “You’re not dying, dumbass,” they whisper. “Pay attention, the pose started.”)

***

Written for klanceweek day 1, “Red/Blue”. Art class AU where Lance can’t focus because one of the new life drawing models is too attractive.

Cute as Fcuk by anonymouschupacabra
Even though he had never seen the hot guy before in the year that he’d been going to college, it was like the dam had broken, because Lance saw him everywhere. From the sculpture rooms, to the library, to the cafeteria, the guy was everywhere Lance was, and it only made it that much harder to ignore the hot buzzing he felt inside every time he saw him.

Dancers
7 Days to Fall For You by saiikavon (ballerina!Lance) see above ^

i bet you look good on the dance floor by xShieru
“So like in 'Step Up’?”
Allura shrugs. “Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it’s just like in 'Step Up’.”
The smile that she sends Shiro’s way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn’t believe in dance camps

.-

Lance McClain’s dancing career begins and ends with Keith.

Keith just wants to find out what Lance’s deal is.

you raise me up by rhapsodyinpink
“What, you don’t think I look like Patrick Swayze?”

Keith snickers. “Absolutely not. You are Jennifer Grey in this situation.”

“That’s a fair point. Nobody puts me in a corner,” replies Lance, nodding seriously, before his expression turns mischievous.

“So then…are you saying you want to call me Baby?”

Keith flushes red, but stands his ground as he leans in closer. “Are you saying you want me to?”

Shut Up and Dance With Me (WIP) by wittyy_name
Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith.

Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.

With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals… or they might crash and burn.

Musicians
That Would Be Alright by icedsonder
And call it spur of the moment, his exacerbated pining over past few months, or even his own alcohol impaired judgment, but Keith let his inhibitions take a backseat as he took a step forward and pressed his forehead against Lance’s to sing his next lines.

“I know I’ll fall in love with you, baby”

Musically Insane by myparadisepalace
It had only taken Lance three days after becoming the blue paladin to realize there were no instruments in the castle. And even if there were, Lance figured they’d be too obscure and strange for him to be able to play.

PROFESSIONS (i.e. cops, doctors, EMTs, waiters)

Soldiers/Assassins/Spies
Counting in Code by DLanaDHZ
There was no one better in the field. The Voltron Force was efficient and deadly, and they took no new recruits. They were hand-picked, and though they didn’t always get along, they were family. Under the stress of a mission, the team counted each other as a way to calm down and focus. But Keith couldn’t count, because counting meant he knew where everyone was, and right now all he had was a pair of bloody dog tags in place of his partner.

blink if you want me by xShieru
He wakes up to Pidge’s face hovering above him. “You gotta stop running into him like this.”
“Dude, he fucking shot me.”
“I know. We saw.”

-

A hitmen AU wherein two thirsty assholes fall for each other and then jeopardize their respective missions because of it.

Retail/Food (waiters/cashiers/clerks)
Melt With You by dumpsterdiva
If you ask Keith what summer means to him, he’ll say shitty weather, a bag of quarters, sticky blue raspberry kisses, and not-quite-midnight sandwiches.

Summer job AU at the pier feat. Keith as a shaved ice slave and Lance as an aquarium camp counselor.

You Dropped a Bomb by quartetship
Lance loved his job.

OR: The Klance LUSH au

Tollbooth Operator
Drive Me Crazy by battleshidge
Keith stared blankly at the tollbooth operator for a moment before trying to stifle a groan. Somehow, he always managed to get the booth with the flirtatious attendant, a lanky brown-haired man with clear blue eyes and a confident grin. It didn’t matter that he changed what lane he went through—at least three times a week on his way home from work, Keith was forced to suffer through the horrendous flirts that this man tossed his way.

Taxi Driver
Finish What You Started by battleshidge
“You were right,” Keith breathed, looking up at Lance with a fire in his eyes. “I did start this,” he lifted his chin, pressing a soft kiss to Lance’s jaw. And another. And another. Lance thought it was torture—sweet, sweet torture. And then that challenge sparked in Keith’s eyes again as he asked, tone low and resonant, “Are you going to finish it?”

Pizza Delivery
You Stole a Pizza My Heart by KaSaPe
Keith just wanted a pizza. The cute delivery boy with the weird grin and stupid flirting (?) had other plans.

Or: Keith just doesn’t get Lance’s flirting. At all.

Lifeguards
six foot dive (WIP) by shizuoh
“I’m bisexual,” Lance says.

Keith furrows his eyebrows. “Good… for you?”

“I’d like to buy you a drink,” he starts, and grins, “and then get sexual.”

Keith shoves him into the water.

(or: lance and his family go to california for a two-month vacation. cue hot lifeguard keith gyeong-kogane.)

Lessons by amycoolz and SylviaW1991
Keith has been nothing but a thorn in Lance’s side since the mullet-haired ass first walked into the classroom. But when he decides to get himself shoved into the deep end and, wow, can’t even swim, Lance has to save his pretty self and then Pidge volunteers him to teach Keith how to swim. Great. Just great.

Nurse
Racing Heartbeats and Hospital Bedsheets by screwtodayimsleeping (nurse!Keith)
Me: Hunk
Me: Buddy
Me: emergency!!!!
HunkyBae: what’s up, lance? Are they not letting you out of the hospital yet?
Me: HUNK
Me: the male nurse that took my blood was probably the sexiest person i’ve ever seen
Me: and im literally wearing two sheets as an outfit

BUSINESSES (e.g. Coffeeshop, flower shop, animal shelter)

Office
eyes wide to you with wonder by aknightley
Keith doesn’t dislike his job, but he definitely dislikes Lance. Probably. Maybe.

“Coran thinks you’ll bang at the Christmas party but I think that’s giving you guys way too much credit,” Pidge says thoughtfully. “Hunk is a romantic. He thinks Lance is gonna ask you out any day now. I think he’s got a week or so before he owes me like a hundred bucks.”

“Pidge, what the fuck?” Keith says, flustered. He nudges them again with his foot, this time slightly harder. They scowl at him, swatting him away. “Why would you bet on me and Lance?”
Part 1 of Office AU

Flower Shop
i’ll gift you the stars by Kyoshu_Koi
Flowers and stars. At least they were giving him things he liked.

Cactus by PinkHitman
When Keith moves from the desert in the middle of ass backwards nowhere, to plop in the middle of the big city, he doesn’t expect to instantly grow fond of the tall, endearing, jerk across the street. But it’s hard not to see roses when said person works in a flower shop.

Arcade
got game by warschach
Lance hates his job until the one day he doesn’t.

Bakery
you’re so sweet; will you be mine?  by jojotext
A new bakery pops up right across the street from Lance’s bakery.

In which Lance is an idiot, Keith is an asshole, and Pidge is the next Dr. Phil.

Coffeeshop
nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts and thebrotherswinchester
Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

SOCIAL MEDIA (Tumblr AU, bloggers, Youtubers, gamers)

Youtubers
you had me at merlot by DJAlien
“Oh my God,” Lance says as he covers his face. Keith’s tinny voice blares from his laptop speakers: “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta.” See, this joke might have been funny if someone charismatic and charming had said it, but Keith’s flat voice and even flatter expression effectively kidnaps, tortures, and then decapitates any chance of it being remotely humorous.

Keith accidentally starts a YouTube channel. Lance, of course, refuses to be left out. It goes about as well as you’d expect. (Ft. copious amounts of wine and a truly shameless number of references to MyDrunkKitchen, DailyGrace, and general pop culture)

The Boyfriend Tag by theoddpacolypse
Keith and Lance are famous YouTubers, along with the rest of their friends, and though they consider each other “rivals” in some ways, they are actually incredibly close. So close that they are actually dating in secret and constantly dropping hints to their fans, whom desperately want them together.
Part 1 of What Happens on Youtube series

Gamers
Next Level (WIP) by battleshidge
“Dammit, Blue, don’t die on us yet! We only just started!”

Red’s voice snapped in his ears, and Lance cursed under his breath. He tried to backpedal quickly, but being flat on his back with the enemy looming above made for certain movement limitations. On top of that, he was already injured, and he could see the red patch spreading across his thigh. He could really use some of Hunk’s portable healing pods, that was for sure. And that, Lance observed, was a very nasty looking knife that was about to plunge straight through his chest.

Well, shit.

Effect: +100% Love, -100% Logic (WIP) by manamune
In the real world, Lance is barely making it by in his senior year. He’s failing most of his classes and is only one more fuck up away from being kicked off the swim team.

In the virtual reality game Voltron, Lance lives an entirely different life as the internationally-known Blue, an archer with impeccable aim. He’s filthy rich, has a trillion friends, and is a part of the most feared guild in the game.There’s just one problem: he’s madly in love one of his guildmates, Red.

Things begin to go downhill when a kid who acts suspiciously similar to Red transfers to Lance’s school.

Bloggers
a recipe for two by battleshidge
He wondered, briefly, what the look on Lance’s face would be if he actually did say yes.

It’s Mutual (Follow Back Already) by JessicaMDawn
At twenty-four, Keith decides to figure out what this 'tumblr’ thing is. It’s confusing at first, but Keith learns to have fun with it with help from a few new friends. AKA Keith’s adventures on tumblr.

anonymous asked:

Can i request the RFA+ minor duo going Victoria secret shopping with MC? And don't stress yourself too much over Requests love~ take all the time you need :)

~Oooooh, yes. LOL! Thank you so much for the request and thank you for the kind words. I appreciate it so much! 


◉ Yoosung 

  • He’s a stuttering and fumbling mess the entire time 
  • Doesn’t have the courage to touch anything 
  • Feels extremely awkward seeing all the other customers grabbing items, and thinks he should try to avert his gaze 
  • He TRIES to keep his eyes on the floor
  • Every time he looks around he is imagining you in the outfits 
    • “Yoosung, what do you think of this?” you hold up lingerie with pink frills 
  • He almost has a heart attack 
  • So many images in his mind 
    • “IT’S P-PERFECT”
    • Shh, you don’t have to yell” you laugh 
  • He can’t control the volume of his voice 
  • Talking to himself in his head, telling himself to clam down
  • He liked the area where theres beauty products and lotions/perfumes 
    • “Oh, this smells nice MC! Want me to get it for you?” 

◉ Jumin 

  • He’s rather un-phased
  • To be honest, he finds lingerie rather unnecessary
    • “Are you sure you want to buy this? I’m just going to be taking it off of you…”
    • “I’m not just here for lingerie, Jumin. I need new bras and panties as well,” you shake your head 
  • He’s very opinionated 
    • “That looks cheap.” “I don’t like that color.” 
  • He’s not doing it to be an ass, he’s just used to speaking his mind 
  • Wants you to look good, and tells you to get whatever you want
    • “Sweat pants?”
    • “They have really comfy ones…” you say shyly 
    • “You’re so cute,” he adds them to your basket 

◉ Zen 

  • He’s screaming internally 
    • YAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!
  • He’s READY for this 
  • At first he thinks you’re going to stick to the normal bra and panty sets
  • Maybe you’ll be adventurous and go for some lace 
  • But you hold up a lingerie set with cut outs and strings and bow and-
  • He almost has a nose bleed 
    • “B-Babe! Careful! Another guy might see!!!” 
  • He grabs it from your hands 
    • “There are only girls around right now, relax!” 
  • He wants to pay for it and drag you home as fast as possible 
  • He’s spacing out
  • Imagining coming home to you in the lingerie, you’re in the kitchen cooking for him 
    • ~~~Welcome home, Zenny!~~~
    • “ZEN!” 
  • His daydream is interrupted by your nudging his ribs 
    • “Let’s go, I paid already,” you laugh 
  • Gladly 

◉ Jaehee 

  • Finally!
  • She needed some new underwear as well 
  • You guys spend over an hour looking at everything 
  • And stocking up on your favorite lotions 
  • Jaehee has some extremely pretty bras 
  • You guys even got matching ones! 
  • She is sorting everything in your basket out when she pulls up a black silk nighty 
    • “Wh-What’s this?!” 
    • “Darn it! I…snuck it in. I was going to surprise you tonight…”
  • Her cheeks turned bright red 
    • “Oh! O-Okay!” 
  • She fumbled around to put everything on the counter 
  • Inside, she couldn’t help but be excited to see you wearing that later that night 

◉ Saeyoung 

  • He’s making jokes to cover his embarrassment 
    • “Do you think this would look good on me?” he hold up a bra to his chest 
    • “Can you be serious once in your life?” 
  • You both laugh 
  • He’s surprisingly good at telling you his opinion on what he wants to see you in ?
    • He’s actually picking things that are a little more risqué than you had ever thought he would be in to 
      • “What? I am a guy, after all…”
    • Asks if he can come into the changing room with you 
      • “No!”
      • “It was only a joke, calm down,” he pokes your cheek and waits patiently while you try a few items on 
    • Super giddy when you finally pay and head home 
      • “So if you are dressing up tonight…does that mean I can, too?”
      •  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

    ◉ V

    • Of course he is super calm about it 
    • Doesn’t like the perfume section though
    • The smells are too overwhelming for him 
    • He wishes he could help pick things out, but he can barely make out the colors of the fabrics 
    • He tries nonetheless 
    • Just smiling the whole time 
    • Choosing things by feel 
      • “This silk is nice, don’t you think? This would feel nice on you…”
    • He does get a blush on his cheeks every now and then and you’re glad he can’t see your staring as you hold back a giggle 
    • A couple times he ended up showing an item to a mannequin 
      • “…Do you not like it?” 
      • “V!…I’m over here…” -_-;;;

    ◉ Saeran 

    • No way!
      • You’re not dragging me into that damn store!!!!”
        • [2 hours later]
    • He stand with his arms crossed, grumbling in the store 
    • Silent as ever as you look through all of the items 
      • “Stop pouting and help me choose!”
      • “No.”
    • The only thing getting him through this is the promise of ice cream and pretzels from the food court 
    • He keeps scowling in response to your random laughs 
    • He doesn’t know, but his cheeks have been slightly pink since you walked in 
    • Eyes went wide when you picked up a particular black and pink lingerie set 
    • But he immediately looked away and pretended to not be interested 
    • Breathed a sigh of relief when you finally paid and started to head out 
      • “Ya know, you could have helped me out a bit more with choosing things back there…”
      • “Why do you need me anyway? You could have picked anything in there and it would look good on you”
    • You squeezed his hand at his response and he realized what he said 
      • “Oh, shut up,” he could feel you smiling at him, “come on. I’m starving. You said I get food.” 

    anonymous asked:

    I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

    I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

    When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

    When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

    I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

    Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

    “I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

    Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

    What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

    They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

    So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

    My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

    They did this test every few months for a few years.

    But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

    I was 15 when that started.

    I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

    I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

    He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

    The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

    So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

    Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

    In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

    I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

    He laughed.

    Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

    My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

    See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

    But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

    A few years later I had the other one done too.

    My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

    But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

    And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

    If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

    I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

    So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

    I’m a feminist because...

    I’m a feminist because everyone should be.

    Growing up, my parents would always tell me to be properly dressed around my brothers. Never mind that they were walking around in short boxer briefs, it was me who had to be presentable. I was the girl, after all.

    In school, I was always taught that the way I dressed affected a boy’s education. I was taught that the slight peek of my shoulder was enough to get me sent to the head office. It was much too distracting, because after all, a boy’s education had to be more important than a girl’s. At least, that was what they were teaching me.

    This is why I’m a feminist.

    I’m a feminist because it is 2017, and when I talk about how unfair it is that a professional athlete gets to walk away from the accusation of raping a girl without a single ding to their career, I’m some sort of radical that needs to calm down. Because that poor girl’s life will never be the same, but said athlete’s career is perfectly intact.

    I’m a feminist because my aunt says things like, “Oh, those feminists, they just need to shave their armpits and get over it.” Because somehow the grooming of my body hair has everything to do with the rights I’m fighting for.

    I’m a feminist because people still think you must have a vagina to be considered a woman.

    I’m a feminist because I am 20 years old, and when I tell people I’m not sure I want to have kids, they look at me like I just defied all womankind.

    I’m a feminist because when mothers choose to work rather than stay at home with their children, they aren’t doing “enough.”

    I’m a feminist because when fathers choose to stay at home with their children rather than work, they somehow aren’t as “manly.”

    I’m a feminist because parents still won’t let their sons play with Barbies.

    I’m a feminist because young boys are taught that crying is bad. Showing emotion is bad, better to bottle it up and never feel. If you cry, you’re a girl, and no one wants to be a girl.

    I’m a feminist because when my family talks about the Women’s March that happened yesterday, they say things like, “What’s protesting going to change?” and “They’re honestly just wasting their time. Nobody’s going to listen to them.” Never mind that the country we are living in found its freedom through protesting—No Taxation Without Representation. But I suppose that’s okay. It was men protesting then.

    I’m a feminist because when my aunt saw a picture of a man marching with women yesterday, she snorted and said, “What’s he doing there? Doesn’t he have something better to do?” Her seven year old son was sitting next to her.

    I’m a feminist because a highly qualified politician lost the presidential election to a less than mediocre businessman who based his campaign on misogyny, racism, bigotry, and slander. Because this country would rather see an over privileged, racist, homophobic, white man, whose years of experience sums up to zero, in office rather than a woman whose qualifications are more than his will ever be. Because I somehow have to have years of experience before I can even get my first job, but Donald Trump can get sworn into office without a single day of political experience.

    I’m a feminist because the President of the United States speaks vilely of women and all minorities, and I’m the terrible one for disliking him.

    I’m a feminist because I get made fun of for being a feminist.

    I’m a feminist because I want the next generation of girls to live in a better world than mine.

    I’m a feminist for these reasons and so many others.

    I’m a feminist because everyone should be.

    Linguistics in DGM

    So I know I’ve seen it said somewhere that the exorcists would probably speak multiple languages (and by extension so would… pretty much everyone in the Order tbh).

    I imagine it’s a bit of a headache if you’re a newcomer. The Order doesn’t really seem to think too much about its members unless they’re super important, after all, so I doubt they’d provide much by way of lessons.

    So you get to the European headquarters and you’re just immediately bombarded with hundreds of languages. One man is shouting at another in German. A woman walks by, greeting you in Greek. And maybe you speak Spanish, but you’re not from Spain; you just transferred over from the North American branch and you can’t decide if the man speaking to you is using idioms from other languages or if that’s just slang in Spain or, hell, if it’s a slang term exclusive to the Order itself because the Order is just a huge blend of languages swirling together, so that could happen.

    Please give me Lenalee speaking German or Russian—you know, one of those languages perceived as intimidating. Really, she’s being perfectly friendly, but you don’t understand what’s being said. Trust me, there’s nothing more intimidating than your German-speaking relative bellowing how pretty you are in German and you not understanding (although I highly doubt Lenalee’s going to be bellowing in German).

    Please give me Allen trying to fluster some poor schmuck in a game so he just switches languages and starts speaking one of the Latin languages like Italian and it works because of course it does. It’s Allen for crying out loud. When that boy wants to charm you, he is going to charm you—even if it’s in another language.

    And you can generally tell how long someone has been at the Order by how many languages they speak or even how garbled their accent is from picking up so many other different accents.

    But wait, what about the Clan? Do we think about them? There’s literally thousands of years of memory stored there, guys. You can bet they speak lots of languages.

    Sitting in on a dinner with the family might be fun; they might start speaking some ancient languages completely unknown to the world. Or maybe Bondomu starts shouting in an obscure, old dialect of Japanese.

    Tyki answers in the same dialect and then looks confused because he most certainly doesn’t even know Japanese in the first place but Wisely just tells him that yes, that is a thing now.

    But sometimes, sometimes when things get really serious, Adam will start speaking Hebrew and everyone will get very, very quiet, because that’s the language of the original scripture—Adam is speaking of the past, and their hearts ache when they think of what happened to them, what the Innocence did.

    anonymous asked:

    So, I'm really curious as to what kind of "Awkward Romantic Crap" Keith did during the first three weeks of dating Lance when they were "boyfriends-who-don't-know-how-to-be-boyfriends" XDD Could you maybe give some examples?

    I could, but, really, isn’t stuff like that sometimes best left to the imagination? ;) … Right, who am I kidding? I’m a bit sleepy, so my apologies — I’m gonna just give ya one example of Keith being an awkward turtle of a person :)


    Awkward Romantic Crap, The First

    Keith adores Lance a stupid amount. He spent several months contemplating (between the denying and the repressing because feelings why?) the many ways he would kiss that loudmouth into silence, give him all the reasons as to why he was wanted and valuable, not allowing him the chance to doubt himself ever again, but now they were boyfriends and Keith … He just couldn’t find the words.

    So he tried with this one romantic gesture — he tried to get Lance flowers. 

    Lance had no allergies (Keith sacrificed his dignity to ask Hunk), the flowers were normal and totally not flesh-eating (Keith gave up a little more pride to ask Coran for where to get a bouquet), and flowers were a thing couples did (according to Shiro, and by this point Keith sort of wanted to live inside Red and never face the team again).

    So the reason why this became Awkward Romantic Crap is because Keith just could not find the right time to give them to Lance. 

    There had to be some kind of special boyfriend-sense he was lacking because it never felt right to just suddenly give Lance flowers. And he really didn’t want to do it in front of the others, and his private time with Lance was hard to come by and most of it they spent feeling out their relationship and having some truly humiliating (albeit necessary) talks about boundaries or whatever.

    They bouquet stayed in his room for a week, the special space blooms starting to droop. 

    Until Lance came into his room, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepishly asking if they could have a date-night on the observation deck couch … And going mute halfway through his question when he saw the flowers.

    Silence for a few seconds. Then, “Uh, who’s brought you flowers? Wait, was it that chick with the Elvis hair? Keith, Keith did you bond with another mullet? Are you … Okay, I mean, no, I’m being dumb. You can get flowers from admirers, it’s fine. Just … you could have mentioned it? Do we have to talk about this kind of stuff too? Or am I being, like, possessive if I ask you to tell me? Oh god, am I a controlling boyfriend —”

    Keith shut him up with a kiss (maybe this made his heart speed up in the most awesome ways, but that didn’t negate the strategic value for getting a word in when Lance was full-ramble.) And then, trying to keep the blush down and failing, he said quickly, “They’re for you. They were … I got them, a week back, and I just … I couldn’t figure out when to give them to you?”

    “A week — were you hiding them whenever we were hanging out in here?”

    Keith didn’t answer except to turn even redder.

    Lance wasn’t a silly jackass all of the time (though Keith actually found that silly jackass behaviour kind of fun and/or sweet because he was doomed), so he didn’t mock Keith at all — he just smiled and said, “Uh, you can give them to me now, if you want?”

    Instantly, Keith reached over to the vase, pulling the flowers out, a few navy blue petals falling as he all but thrust them into Lance’s chest, the stems dripping water. “These are for you.”

    “And what’s the occasion?” Lance asked, pink blossoming along his cheeks, down his neck.

    “Just … just that I … I’m good with us. Now. And … happy. Because of you. So, thanks. For your existence.”

    Lance’s face was doing a thing — Keith couldn’t tell if he was fighting back laughter or tears, but then two arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing him into a soft yet lingering kiss. Satin petals brushed against Keith’s face as Lance still gripped the bouquet tightly.

    When they both pulled away, Lance was grinning and Keith didn’t feel so awkward anymore. 

    Except when his boyfriend started speaking again … “Dude, would you have just let my flowers die before you grew a spine and gave them to their rightful owner? For shame, Red, for shame.” He dragged the bouquet into the limited space between them. “Look at my precious babies! Did you change the water? You’re supposed to change the water, Keith, you can’t just —”

    Keith crushed the flowers between their chests in order to gain access to that irritating (delicious) mouth. Lance wailed about his flowers even as their lips met again. Keith let Lance go long enough to get the flowers some fresh water, watching him carefully tend to the blooms that were still intact.

    And then Keith dragged him in for more kisses — he was always better with actions than words. Except flower-giving, apparently. But Keith had learned that he could do that kind of romantic crap, at least once. Better luck next time — he’d give them to Lance in front of everyone, come hell or high water, damn it.

    (And maybe, at some point in the future, Keith finds a few dark blue flowers pressed between the pages of an old Altean book Allura had given Lance for his birthday. 

    Keith will blush again, cringe at the memory, and then kiss his boyfriend stupid when he walks through his bedroom door because he truly adores Lance a stupid amount, and Lance always appreciates his awkwardness, sees his efforts as the most sincere gestures of love, and Keith can’t help but see any mockery that did come his way as endearing. 

    So doomed.)


    I am off to bed, and oh so tired, but hopefully this drabble makes some kind of sense. Hope you found it both awkward and enjoyable! ;D *hugs* Many thanks for asking!

    The Dinner Party

    just a random idea that came to me in a fever dream earlier this week. rated E for explicit smutty smut smut. enjoy!


    “You want me to do what?”

    Peeta frowned at her foot, wielding the nail polish brush threateningly. “First, I want you to hold still.” Katniss wriggled her toes defiantly but then obliged, hardly daring to breathe when he swiped the coral nail polish onto her big toe in nice, even strokes. It looked perfect, of course. He could always paint better than she could, even nails.

    “Seriously, though. You want me to go to a dinner party with you?” she asked. He glanced up at her with a crooked smile before he started painting her next toenail.

    “You make it sound like I’ve asked you to strip naked and run around the block or something,” he said, focusing on her toes. She snorted, then clamped her lips shut when he shot her a warning look. Snorting made her foot jiggle, apparently. “It’s just a dinner party. Delly asked everyone to bring a guest–someone, and I quote, ‘interesting.’ So I’m asking you.”

    Katniss stared at the top of his head, his blond curls falling across his forehead as he worked. “But I don’t really know her. And what a weird stipulation,” she said with a laugh.

    Peeta shrugged. “Delly likes her theme parties,” he muttered, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he delicately painted her pinky toe. Satisfied with his work, he shot her a triumphant smile. “And you’re the most interesting person I know.”

    She rolled her eyes. “Says the guy who paints nails better than any girl I know.”

    He gave her a look of mock offense. “Are you questioning my masculinity? You know how I feel about rigid gender roles.” Then he held up his hand, palm flat, fingers spread. “And who’s got a steadier hand than me?” She kicked playfully at his hand, and he made a noise of protest, grabbing her ankle to place her foot down on the coffee table. “Don’t mess up my hard work.”

    Katniss slumped down into the couch, chewing on her lip. “You know I don’t like people. How am I supposed to be interesting around a bunch of strangers?”

    Screwing the nail polish bottle shut, Peeta sat back on his hands. “Just think of it as a challenge. See how often you can work into the conversation that dry wit and razor-sharp sarcasm of yours without them realizing you’re insulting them.”

    “Do you want people to hate me?” she asked wryly, folding her arms over her chest. He grinned.

    “Delly said interesting. She didn’t say anything about likable.” He laughed when she flipped him off, then pushed off the floor to stand up. “I should head home. But I swear, if you just be yourself, people will love you.” She didn’t think it was that simple. Peeta never had to worry about getting people to like him; it just came naturally to him. But she didn’t argue the point, letting him pull her up from the couch. With cotton balls stuffed between her toes, she wobbled after him to the front door. Grabbing his jacket from the coat rack, he turned to her. “So you’ll come?”

    Keep reading

    anonymous asked:

    pleeeeease tell me there's a story about nate and aj? ❤️❤️❤️

    WELL ANONS (from this fic):

    Andrew Joseph Minyard doesn’t know a thing about Nathaniel Wesninski until he’s sent to kill him.

    That’s perhaps more unusual than one would suspect, knowing Andrew. His general disinterest is well known, but he has a personal stake in knowing the movers and shakers of the magical families on the East Coast.

    Know your enemies, and all that. Andrew didn’t used to have those, until he met Kevin Day and finally picked a side that wasn’t himself and his best interests. Now he kills people for righteousness, or what the fuck ever.

    “The Wesninskis have a new leader,” Wymack tells them, hands folded on his desk like this is very serious news. “It’s Nathan’s kid, apparently. He’s cleaned house. Or it might be more accurate to say that he wiped the old circle off of the map entirely.”

    Like he always does, Kevin goes pale at the mention of one of those families. Wymack flicks him a glance before continuing, “It’s not immediately clear where he stands on the old family alliances, but it makes sense for us to move now while he’s unsettled.”

    Andrew can see where this is going already. “I didn’t realise we were killing off children now.”

    Wymack shoots him a level look. “He’s twenty-two. Barely younger than you.”

    “Well, I suppose that’s alright then,” Andrew replies agreeably. “When do I leave?”

    “Hold on. Didn’t he kill his own father?” Nicky cuts in. “Shouldn’t that require a little more investigation than ‘when do I leave’?”

    Dan waves a hand. “He’s a mage. Killer or not, he won’t be able to protect himself against non-magical weapons.”

    “Don’t worry Nicky. I don’t like to be too well prepared,” Andrew says. It’s not meant to be soothing.

    That’s how he ends up crawling through an upper-storey window of the Wesninski mansion, cursing mages and rusted locks. The house is probably warded - Andrew couldn’t say. To him it’s just like breaking into any other house.

    What he does notice is the complete emptiness of the building. While mages don’t often have non-magical defence - and Andrew would be a lot less successful if they invested in some attack dogs, or even burglar alarms - they do generally at least have people. But every room he passes - soundlessly, of course - has its door flung wide open to display its total emptiness.

    Every instinct he has is screaming. For a moment, he wonders if Wesninski has cleared out of the house entirely. But, despite the limited information for this trip, Andrew knows Wymack wouldn’t send him on a wild goose chase. The mage is here.

    He creeps down the stairs, sticking close to the wall. It’s a broad staircase, gaudy even in the near-darkness. Apparently the elder Wesninski had more money than taste.

    The lounge is no more elegant, and still empty of people. Beyond it, though, light falls from the doorway. Andrew creeps towards it, palming one of his knives.

    Apparently, all his quiet was wasted. The person through the door is waiting for him - and this, having met Nathan, is definitely his son.

    Twenty-two he may be, but Wesninski looks like a kid. With his fair falling into his face as he slouches against the kitchen island, he looks nothing like someone who could have killed Nathan and the entire rest of his circle in one fell swoop. Any tracery of magic in him isn’t detectable to Andrew though - for all he knows, the air could be singing with it.

    The only giveaway that this man isn’t as normal as Andrew is the curling tattoo emerging over the collar of his t-shirt. It’s a mage-mark, and it’s large. Even Kevin, the most powerful of the Foxes in terms of sheer strength, doesn’t have one that extends so far across his skin.

    “You’re AJ Minyard,” Wesninski says. He looks excited about that. Andrew didn’t realise he was a groupie. It’s the danger of being a contract killer - being known by your signature. Andrew is Andrew, except when he’s AJ and earning his keep in blood.

    “Usually, your kind is throwing spells by now,” he replies blandly. Not that it ever helps them.

    “That would be a waste of time, though. Wouldn’t it?” Wesninski says. “You’re immune.”

    Well then. “You’re smarter than you look,” Andrew informs him. 

    “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you’re so successful,” Wesninski shrugs. “I need to send a message to Kevin.”

    Wesninski isn’t following the script. Andrew glances at his watch - usually they’d have gotten past the initial failed attempt to blast Andrew off of the face of the earth with magic and moved onto either running - unusual, mages didn’t like to run - or begging. “Do I look like a messenger to you?”

    That earns a thin smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that demeaning?”

    “If you think I’m here for that, then you’re confused,” Andrew says. 

    Wesninski throws his arms wide. “Well, go ahead then. You know I can’t fight you. And it’s not like I can run.”

    Fuck’s sake, Andrew didn’t come here for a conversation. Still, though - he throws a glance at Wesninski’s legs. “Too lazy for it?”

    “Not exactly. I know you probably don’t care for magical theory, so the short explanation is that right now I can’t leave this house. Hence wanting to speak with Kevin. The best I could do is hide in a closet, and I can’t imagine that would deter you.”

    “As sob-stories go, you might want to try ‘but I have children and a wife’,” Andrew advises. 

    “As if that would help me.” Wesninski rolls his eyes. “That’s fine. I wasn’t expecting you to help me for free. I’ll give you something you want in exchange.”

    Andrew really should have just killed him instead of saying a word. Corpses are so much less trouble. He raises an eyebrow to signal that his patience is wearing thin.

    “If you want a chance at getting anywhere near Riko Moriyama, you’ll help me,” Wesninski says.

    That’s an interesting offer. “What makes you think I care about that?”

    “Do you think it isn’t common knowledge in the upper circles about what happened between him and Kevin?” Wesninski says. “Plus you’ve been working your way through all the high blood families over the last year. I figured a Moriyama must be right up there on your wish list. Particularly that one.”

    He isn’t wrong. “I’m not here to make a deal with you.”

    “Are you sure about that?” That smile again. It’s really a wonder someone so irritating hasn’t been killed already. “I have access to the Moriyamas now, whether they like it or not. I think you’d like to make use of that. Better move fast, though - you aren’t the only one who wants to kill me.”

    Riko would already be dead if he were easier to get to. And Nathaniel now has his father’s seat on the council, even if he killed for it - succession is muddy  and ugly amongst mages at the best of times. He’d hardly be the first to do it that way. 

    He’s right. Andrew could use that. Getting into Castle Evermore is difficult, and Nathaniel has a free pass through the front gates. If he could smuggle Andrew inside…if he were willing to do so…

    “What’s in it for you?” Andrew asks.

    “What, you mean besides you not murdering me tonight and me getting out of this fucking house?” So sardonic. “I don’t like the Moriyamas any more than you do, Wesninski blood or no. I don’t care if I die, as long as Riko goes first.”

    It seems their interests all line up. Andrew can deal with Riko at last, and might even get a shot at the other Moriyamas in the process. He smiles a little bit, feeling his face cracking.

    “Well, Nathaniel. Looks like you might be useful to me after all.”

    Wesninski makes a face. “I go by ‘Nate’.”

    “I really don’t care,” Andrew tells him. “I would say ‘wait here’, but I suppose that’s irrelevant, isn’t it? I’ll come to you.”

    The with a message or a knife is unspoken but clearly implied. Nathaniel - Nate - smiles thinly.

    “Better hurry,” he says. “Offer ends if I’m dead.”

    beatrice-babe  asked:

    I'm working on an assignment about how we could modify the way we teach Shakespeare so students understand it. In combing through JSTOR (our lord and savior) I found two articles both discussing how damned difficult it is to teach Shakespeare. Each is titled 'Teaching Shakespeare'. One is from 1942. The other is from 1893. It is 2017, and we still don't know how the fuck to teach this shit so people get it. Academic struggles all day every day and literally nothing has changed

    University was a dream come true for me. I had amazing lecturers and the class had a three-pronged approach:

    1. Explain the historical context of the play, how it was originally performed and how it was received

    2. View different modern adaptations (at least 2-3, sometimes more, and ideally look at some from other cultures and in other languages) and compare and contrast how they interpret the same text

    3. Encourage students to interpret the text in their own way. Wanna make A Midsummer Night’s Dream about two lesbians, Lysander and Hermia, running away from a homophobic society? Go for it. Now explain why you chose to do that and how you would stage it.

    We would have lectures that were theory-based, interrupted by the professor playing some clips from different adaptations. Later in the week we would meet in a theatre space and work with the text physically, vocally, and have an open and honest discussion about what we were studying. We got through one play every two weeks over a 12 week period and came out with a solid understanding of each one. Extraordinary stuff.

    Now, compare this approach, which is interesting, engaging and relevant to the modern era and our own experiences, to how it’s traditionally taught in high school.

    You sit.

    In a room.

    You read the play.

    You’re stuck with it for weeks and weeks.

    You have no fucking clue what’s being said or why you should care. 

    Your teacher then asks you to write an essay on a topic that will have some ludicrously long title that you barely understand.

    You go away hating Shakespeare and viewing it as horrible and boring. 

    And you completely miss what the text is about and what it can be about.

    The thing that was really powerful at uni, and what we should endeavour to bring to teenage students, was looking at other people’s adaptations. Reading Shakespeare as a 15 year old, or indeed at any age, can be a struggle. It feels like you’re reading gobbledegook. How the hell are you supposed to understand Elizabethan slang? How are you supposed to engage with the story if you keep reaching for a dictionary every 2 seconds? But that’s where skilled actors and directors come into it, because these guys do the work for you. For example, The Globe theatre is a massive draw for tourists around the world. They perform plays in the original language in a way that is hugely accessible and entertaining for all people, no matter their background. They use voice, action and gesture to make sure you understand. It’s an old maxim that Shakespeare is meant to be seen and not heard, and it’s true, so let your students watch the professionals act it out. Let them watch two or three! Maybe more! And once they start to grasp the text, aided by historical context, get them up and get them speaking and performing. And if someone’s shy and doesn’t want to perform? That’s totally fine! They’re now the director, and they can come up with ideas that others will put into practice. 

    Get people talking. Start arguments. Shakespeare’s plays will say something different to each different person. What is it about this text that you latch onto? Which adaptation did you like best? How do you think it should come to life? And when you assigns essays and assessments, let them write and argue about what they are passionate about. I fucking hate those essay prompts that box you in and allow no room to put forward your own feelings, which make you talk about the theme of forgiveness or whatever when you think fuck you, this play wasn’t about forgiveness at all, it was about (x).

    Even with the little stuff, there’s no point just saying “so the definition of iambic pentameter is…” and moving on, you should be up there with your hand on your heart, making them tap along to their own heartbeats, ba-DUM, ba-DUM, ba-DUM, Two HOUSE-holds BOTH a-LIKE in DIG-ni-TY - great! You feel it, don’t you? You feel those 10 beats in your heart, and now what happens when you recite a line that’s slightly irregular? Sometimes you’ll get a weird line that’s 9, 11 or 12 syllables where everything else is 10, sometimes you’ll get the stressed syllable in a different place than it should be, and you can feel that as you’re reciting - it’s as if your heart suddenly started beating faster or skipped a beat, and you have to listen to it and ask - why did Shakespeare want me to stress that? Why did this character suddenly falter and slip out of rhythm? Same with things like assonance, alliteration, repetition, juxtaposition and all those others words that make students’ eyeballs melt out of their heads. Don’t just make them memorise an arbitrary list of definitions, show them what they can do.

    For example: repetition in Much Ado About Nothing. Beatrice and Benedick will often choose a word or an idea and then hit it back and forth like a shuttlecock until one of them drops it. But it’s the repetition of the word heart that is most striking, and the image of Beatrice’s heart in particular. Beatrice has a “merry heart,” she has a “wild heart,” Margaret jokes she should lay Carduus Benedictus to “your heart,” Benedick declares he wants to “live in thy heart.” The word crops up close to forty times throughout the play, associated with love, happiness, sexual ardour - nice things, in other words. In the confession scene we see:

    BEATRICE: I was about to protest I loved you.

    BENEDICK: And do it, with all thy heart.

    BEATRICE: I love you with so much of my heart none is left to protest. 

    And then, all of a sudden, just a few lines later, Shakespeare pulls the fucking rug out from under us. Remember all that nice heart imagery? Throw it out the window, and listen to what Beatrice has to say about Claudio, the scumbag who disgraced and almost killed her innocent cousin: I would eat his heart in the marketplace.

    HOOOLY SHIT DUDE

    Do you see that? One word, one image, one idea and suddenly it’s like the the roof has caved in. Claudio said he loved her cousin, and then he nearly killed her. And Beatrice, with her loving, merry heart, the heart that Benedick wishes to live in, says I would eat his heart. If hurting women is what Claudio intends to do with his love and his heart, then by God she will fucking pull it out of his chest and eat it where everyone can see so they know what should happen to men like him. 

    Feel it, listen to it, live it. Those definitions will seem abstract and alien when you read them on the page - who cares if a few words start with the same letter? What does it matter if he repeats a couple of words? But you have to get into the text and really hear and see, viscerally, what these techniques are capable of. They should make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

    Historical context is another issue I won’t go too far into, but suffice to say that it’s something that deserves far more attention than it gets. Apart from anything else, it’s interesting! People got up to crazy stuff in Shakespeare’s time, we should know about the world the Bard lived in.

    I apologise for ranting, but yes. Shakespeare is often taught in an inadequate or inappropriate way, and for the sanity of high school students everywhere we should endeavour to teach teachers how Shakespeare should be taught.

    BTS CHAT: Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin prepare to confess to Y/N but they are shocked to run into each other in her backyard at night.
    • Namjoon crouches in the bush outside Y/N's window.
    • NAMJOON: (Deep breath) I can do this.
    • SUGA: Do what?
    • Suga pops out over Namjoon's shoulder.
    • NAMJOON: AHH!
    • Suga covers Namjoon's mouth.
    • SUGA: Will you shut up? Unless of course you want to alert the whole neighborhood that you're crouching in a girl's backyard at 12 am.
    • NAMJOON: What are you doing here?
    • SUGA: I saw you leave the house with your guitar, so I followed you.
    • NAMJOON: Well go back home.
    • SUGA: Not until you tell me what your plan is.
    • NAMJOON: What plan?
    • SUGA: Your plan to impress Y/N.
    • NAMJOON: I'll tell you after it works.
    • SUGA: (Shrugs) Fine, then I guess you I won't tell you mine.
    • ...
    • NAMJOON: Wait, what?
    • Suga opens up a bag and inside are chocolate, flowers and a mini speaker.
    • NAMJOON: What the hell man? Are you serious?
    • SUGA: Yup.
    • Suga walks out into the open and presses play on the song; First Love. Suga holds the speaker above his head and flowers in the other hand.
    • JIN: What the hell is going on here?!
    • Jin walks into the backyard with a picnic basket and a gigantic teddy bear.
    • Namjoon comes out of the bushes.
    • NAMJOON: Are you serious? Is following me just thing you guys do now?
    • SUGA: Well by the looks of it, it's that and liking the same girl.
    • JIN: You guys like Y/N?
    • NAMJOON: Yeah. Pretty much.
    • SUGA: No, I just like to take late night strolls into people's backyards. And sometimes, I like to buy myself roses.
    • JIN: AHHH!
    • NAMJOON: (Concerned) What is it?
    • JIN: Oh, just my back hurts from when you stabbed me!
    • SUGA: Was that supposed to be funny? Cuz it wasn't.
    • JIN: You'll know when I'm being funny Yoongi.
    • SUGA: Will I?
    • JIN: Both of you leave now!
    • NAMJOON: No way! I got here first!
    • SUGA: Actually, I got here first. Y/N brought me to her house before she even met you two.
    • JIN: Well I was born first.
    • SUGA: Speaking of that, I don't think Y/N would be into a 'mature' man.
    • JIN: Good thing I'm not mature then!
    • NAMJOON: I don't think that worked the way you wanted it to.
    • JIN: Shut up and leave. I didn't cook all this food for Y/N for you guys to ruin things.
    • SUGA: Fine. Leave the food here and I'll make sure Y/N and I don't let it go to waste.
    • JIN: Sometimes I really don't like you.
    • NAMJOON: I learnt how to play the guitar for her. Do you know how hard it is to strum with no pick?!
    • JIMIN: SHHH!
    • Namjoon, Jin and Suga look up at Y/N's window to see Jimin shirtless and poking his head out.
    • JIMIN: You guys are so loud. Y/N is trying to sleep.
    • SUGA: What the fuck?!

    anonymous asked:

    Yes, Dee, you really should be working. Bet your horses and their owners miss you when you spend all day on here. Why don't you be a regular fan & stop spreading lies & conspiracy theories about Sam & Cait. Wonder what the uni would think of Professor McD's wife being such an obsessed out of touch with reality fanatic. And it would really be embarrassing for K to know that her mother is considered an Outlander tinhatter. Light shipping with no conspiracy theories spread is the way to go, Dee.

    Awww, anon, am I spending too much time on Tumblr for your tastes? Debunking too many of your sacred, but not very well supported opinions? Sorry about that- but what I choose to do with the publicly available information that is available to me is my prerogative, as also is how I spend my free time. That’s the time when I am not working. My tag line is a bit of humour, anon, not to be taken seriously. All the work gets done and then some, anon, never worry about that!
    And speaking of publicly available information, I see that you have also availed yourself of some and done some poking about as to me and my family. No problem as far as I am concerned, or my family either. It is, after all, publicly available information and you are quite welcome to it. But you leave me at something of a social disadvantage, anon, in that you presume to address me on a first name basis- but, as you have chosen to remain anonymous-I don’t yet have your name to reciprocate properly with our first name basis communications. Oh, well, I suppose there is nothing for it but to just go on addressing you as “anon” until you see fit to introduce yourself.
    But I suppose I should now get down to answering your questions. Since you have troubled yourself to learn so much about me it’s the least I can do to reciprocate your interest!

    First, my clients are all quite aware of my blog, and of its direction. In fact we often laugh about the absurdities of social media, and the proclivities of certain of its users to take it upon themselves to tell others how they should think. ( that’s a polite way to say “NSTer, anon)

    And then there is my husband, who as you point out, anon, is indeed a professor. He was a little miffed to learn about your interest in him, anon, but only because your research seems to have failed to turn up, and refer to him by, his actual job title. He is actually a Distinguished Professor- which means he holds an endowed chair, anon, which means he is a very important part of his department, he teaches the advanced courses, sits on important committees, oh, and he also has tenure. Which means that it doesn’t really matter to him, or to his uni, what sort of things his wife might choose to do with her spare time. Even if that thing is to be an “obsessed out of touch with reality fanatic” lol! He is also well aware of my blog, and it’s content. In fact we both get a really good laugh together most mornings when he shares with me the latest political news a la Trump and friends, and I fill him in on the latest fandom happenings (that’s also a polite way to say “NSTer happenings, anon)

    And then there is my lovely daughter, anon. I am so glad you didn’t leave her out of this as I am always happy to talk about her- that’s what parents love to do! She’s also well aware of my blog, and it’s content as well, anon. In fact she was the one who got me started in Tumblr. She ran a fandom blog in another fandom for several years and is also well aware of ships and shipping- and how the term "tinhatter” is applied to any ship that an individual disagrees with (which is a polite way of saying “NSTer”, anon)

    So now that the pleasantries are sorted, anon, let’s get down to your real reason for writing. The conspiracy thing. You advocate “light shipping” for me, but there is no such thing. Not in the dictionary, not in the Urban Dictionary, and not even on Google. It doesn’t exist as a word, or a concept. It is only a “thing” in the minds of certain bloggers. The truth is, anon, you either ship it or you don’t. No heavy or light to it.
    And as to any “conspiracies” that is also a thing that comes with the territory in this fandom. The position of both sides requires there to be a “conspiracy” for their position to exist. The Sam Cait ship requires the “official” narrative of Sam and other girls to be a put on. And the Samzie ship requires the whole of the matter between Sam and Cait, as displayed by them their own selves, to be a put on. Either way someone is doing a put on, anon, it’s just a difference of opinion as to who.

    When I add it up I get sam and Cait, as do my family and friends. Others get a different answer. So be it. Live and let live, and it is all public information after all. It’s not illegal, or even immoral to form opinions about it. Or to print those opinions or discussions.

    And that brings me to your last point, anon. The implication that I am putting my family at risk by looking at publicly available information, and printing my opinions about it. Or that I am doing something wrong that I, or they, would not want known about.
    It’s obvious that is not the case. If I was doing wrong, and if you were actually someone with the power to do something about that, then we would be having this communication via letterhead, and not via an anonymous submission to my Tumblr blog.

    And maybe you should ask yourself what it is that you are really saying when you resort to threats to try to silence the words what you claim to be nothing more than an “obsessed, out of touch with reality fanatic”. If I was truly just a “tinhatter” shouldn’t it be easy to simply ignore me the same way that everyone ignores the homeless guy who stands on the busy intersection preaching loudly, every day, about the end of he world which according to him is directly upon us?
    Instead you take the time out of your life to research my family and compose implicit threats- and no one likes to waste time. That tells me that my words are not meaningless. That tells me that my words are believable- and that they are believable enough to cause a threat to your worldview. And that you had no facts at hand, or even a good argument to make to refute them. No reason to need me silenced otherwise that I can see. There really isn’t a higher compliment

    So thanks, anon, for taking the time out of your day so send me such a gracious compliment. My family and I send you our regards. Sorry we can’t thank you personally at this time since you are still anonymous, but perhaps in time you will feel comfortable introducing yourself. Or maybe not, since your choice to remain anonymous rather confirms the view that revealing your true identity would also be a reveal that you are in fact nobody whose opinion actually matters- or you would be using your real name and revealing that your opinion DOES matter after all. But this all is making even my eyes roll, anon, so take care of yourself, anon, whoever you are!
    Until then- Cheers!

    anonymous asked:

    Prompt #4 for the ask thing

    4. “I’m not drunk, I s-swear.”

    “No, mom, I’m just staying at Nico’s”, Will grins and winks at Nico. Nico thinks it’s pretty impressive if they can pull this off. “It’s late already, and it’s not like I have school tomorrow or anything.”

    Nico hears Will’s mother’s voice through the line but doesn’t listen to what she’s saying. Instead he focuses on his boyfriend’s neck, so well at hand from where he’s lying next to Will on the bed. He presses a soft, lingering kiss by the pulse point and feels Will run a hand through his hair. I’m going to miss this.

    “Mom - no, listen. I need to leave for college in a week. Who knows when I’m going to see him again.”

    That’s - not actually entirely true. Not that Will’s mother needs to know that they’re planning on visiting each other most every weekend. Nico throws an arm across Will’s chest and plays with the hem of his shirt. He’s not particularly looking forward to the four hour drive from New York to Boston every other weekend, but if it means he can spend time with Will he’ll do it over and over again.

    Will sighs to the phone, and Nico peppers his kisses down to the barely exposed collar bone. “I know, mom. I’m gonna miss you, too. But Nico’s my -” Nico can see how Will swallows, can feel the hold around his shoulders tightening, “he’s my best friend.”

    Again, not entirely true, but this Nico can live with. His own parents wouldn’t be too happy about him dating a boy, either, so he can understand where Will comes from. Besides, this way they can sleep in the same room, in the same bed, and no one has to go down the hall to the guest room.

    Nico nuzzles to Will’s neck and presses his body closer to Will’s. Their legs tangle together as he listens to Mrs Solace go on and on about something he can’t quite hear. She’s probably trying to guilt trip Will into going home for the night, like she has tried so many times before. Sometimes Nico wonders if she likes Nico at all.

    “I’ll be home every night for the rest of the week, mom.”

    That makes Nico look up at Will, who shoots him an apologetic look and mouths sorry as his mother keeps talking. Nico knows they have no other choice. That doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

    Without saying anything, Nico shimmers down the bed until he can press his face to the small sliver of skin peeking from under the hem of Will’s shirt. He breathes in deeply before starting to leave teasing kisses all over, and grins when he feels Will’s muscles tense under his lips.

    “Yes, I promise”, Will says, and his voice is a little strained as he lifts a hand to bury it in Nico’s hair again. Nico pushes the shirt up to expose more skin and uses his teeth to nip around Will’s navel. “H-how about this. We can all go to Grandma’s for dinner tomorrow. Just please, let me spent some time tonight with Nico - oh.”

    Will’s voice cuts into a barely there sigh when Nico dips his tongue to the navel and quickly moves on to suck a mark next to it. Will grips Nico’s hair tightly in his fist, and Nico can hear Mrs Solace asking something. 

    “No! No, mom, I’m not drunk, I s-swear.” He doesn’t sound very convincing anymore, but Nico can’t really blame him. If Will was running his hands up Nico’s sides like this when Nico’s trying to speak to his mother, he wouldn’t sound very convincing, either. 

    Nico moves his lips lower, towards Will’s hip bone, and one of his thumbs flicks quickly over a nipple.

    “You know what, mom, we can have this conversation tomorrow. Sleep well. Good night.” Will disconnects the call and drops his phone to the mattress unguardedly. “You’re a real devil, aren’t you, di Angelo?”

    Nico grins before nipping at the skin by the waistline of Will’s pants. “Well, if you’re going to abandon me for the rest of the week I thought we could have a head start. Too bad your mother was hogging you all to herself.”

    Will looks a little disgusted when he gives Nico a pointed look. “Please don’t mention my mother when your mouth is inches away from my dick.”

    With a laugh, Nico climbs up on top of Will and leans in to kiss him, slow and meaningful. “Noted”, he mutters against Will’s lips and feels him smile. “Anything else?”

    “Just shut up and kiss me again.”