drink hot chocolate with me

2

I tried a new weekly setup and it really helped me to be more structured and productive! Today I had my second exam this semester and it wasn’t that good but I just hope the next three exams will be better! Drinking hot chocolate always helps me to gain some energy :) (which I really need because my next exam is in 3 days!) I hope you’re all having a lovely day! Sending you lots of love!! ✨💛

‘Parks and Recreation’: Leslie Knope Writes Letter to America Following Donald Trump’s Victory

Dear America,

Amidst the confusion, and despair, and disbelief, it was suggested to me by a very close friend of mine (I won’t say her name, to protect her identity) (Ann. It was Ann) that perhaps a few people would enjoy hearing my thoughts on this election. So I sat down at my computer, cleared my head, and opened a document. Then I started crying. So I had some hot chocolate, and my close friend (Ann) rubbed my back for a while, and I got myself together, and sat down. And started crying. Then more Ann comforting me, and more hot chocolate, and back and forth like that for about six hours or so, the chain of hot-chocolate-and-back-rubs only interrupted briefly when I had to run to the store for more hot chocolate packets (“Just give me all of them, all the boxes,” I remember saying, through tears, to a very scared stockroom boy) and now I am ready to go.

When I was in fourth grade, my teacher Mrs. Kolphner taught us a social studies lesson. The seventeen students in our class were introduced to two fictional candidates: a smart if slightly bookish-looking cartoon tortoise named Greenie, and a cool-looking jaguar named Speedy. Rick Dissellio read a speech from Speedy, in which he promised that if elected he would end school early, have extra recess, and provide endless lunches of chocolate pizzandy. (A local Pawnee delicacy at the time — deep fried pizza where the crust was candy bars.) Then I read a speech from Greenie, who promised to go slow and steady, think about the problems of our school, and try her best to solve them in a way that would benefit the most people. Then Mrs. Kolphner had us vote on who should be Class President.

I think you know where this is going.

Except you don’t, because before we voted, Greg Laresque asked if he could nominate a third candidate, and Mrs. Kolphner said “Sure! The essence of democracy is that everyone—” and Greg cut her off and said “I nominate a T. rex named Dr. Farts who wears sunglasses and plays the saxophone, and his plan is to fart as much as possible and eat all the teachers,” and everyone laughed, and before Mrs. Kolphner could blink, Dr. Farts the T. rex had been elected President of Pawnee Elementary School in a 1984 Reagan-esque landslide, with my one vote for Greenie the Tortoise playing the role of “Minnesota.”

After class I was inconsolable. Once all the other kids left, Mrs. Kolphner came over and put her arm around me. She told me I had done a great job advocating for Greenie the Tortoise. Through tears I remember saying, “How good, exactly?” and she said “Very very good,” and I said, “Good enough to—?” and she sighed and went to her desk to get one of the silver stars she gave out to kids who did a good job on something, and as I tearfully added it to my Silver Star Diary she asked me what upset me the most.

“Greenie was the better candidate,” I said. “Greenie should have won.”

She nodded.

“I suppose that was the point of the lesson,” I said.

“Oh no,” she said. “The point of the lesson is: people are unpredictable, and democracy is insane.”

Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except all those other forms that have been tried.” That is perhaps a pithier and better way to get my point across, than that long anecdote about Mrs. Kolphner. Should I just erase all of that and start with this? Whatever. I’m pot-committed now, and is there extra caffeine in that hot chocolate? Because my head feels like a spaceship. The point is: people making their own decisions is, on balance, better than an autocrat making decisions for them. It’s just that sometimes those decisions are bad, or self-defeating, or maddening, and a day where you get dressed up in your best victory pantsuit and spend an ungodly amount of money decorating your house with American flags and custom-made cardboard-cutouts of suffragettes in anticipation of a glass-ceiling-shattering historical milestone ends with you getting (metaphorically) eaten by a giant farting T. rex.

Like most people, I deal with tragedy by processing the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. My denial over the election results was intense. My anger was (in Ron’s words) “significant.” My bargaining was short, but creative — I offered my soul and the souls of all of my friends in exchange for 60,000 more votes in Milwaukee, to any demon who cared to accept. (Tom told me it was a terrible deal, but I didn’t care, in that moment.) My depression I have already mentioned. Which brings us to Acceptance.  And here’s what I stand on that:

No. I do not accept it.

I acknowledge that Donald Trump is the President. I understand, intellectually, that he won the election. But I do not accept that our country has descended into the hatred-swirled slop pile that he lives in. I reject out of hand the notion that we have thrown up our hands and succumbed to racism, xenophobia, misogyny, and crypto-fascism. I do not accept that. I reject that. I fight that. Today, and tomorrow, and every day until the next election, I reject and fight that story. I work hard and I form ideas and I meet and talk to other people who feel like me, and we sit down and drink hot chocolate (I have plenty) and we plan. We plan like mofos. We figure out how to fight back, and do good in this infuriating world that constantly wants to bend toward the bad. And we will be kind to each other, and supportive of each other’s ideas, and we will do literally anything but accept this as our fate.

And let me say something to the young girls who are reading this. Hi, girls. On behalf of the grown-ups of America who care about you and your futures, I am awfully sorry about how miserably we screwed this up. We elected a giant farting T. rex who does not like you, or care about you, or think about you, unless he is scanning your bodies with his creepy T. rex eyes, or trying to physically grab you like a toy his daddy got him (or would have, if his daddy had loved him). (Sorry, that was a low blow.) (Actually, not sorry, I’m pissed, and I’m on a roll, so zip it, super-ego!) Our President-Elect is everything you should abhor, and fear, in a male role model. He has spent his life telling you, and girls and women like you, that your lives are valueless except as sexual objects. He has demeaned you, and belittled you, and put you in a little box to be looked at and not heard. It is your job, and the job of girls and women like you, to bust out.

You are going to run this country, and this world, very soon. So you will not listen to this man, or the 75-year-old, doughy-faced, gray-haired nightmare men like him, when they try to tell you where to stand or how to behave or what you can and cannot do with your own bodies, or what you should or should not think with your own minds. You will not be cowed or discouraged by his stream of retrogressive babble. You won’t have time to be cowed, because you will be too busy working and learning and communing with other girls and women like you, and when the time comes you will effortlessly flick away his miserable, petty misogynistic worldview like a fly on your picnic potato salad.

He is the present, sadly, but he is not the future. You are the future. Your strength is a million times his. Your power is a billion times his. We will acknowledge this result, but we will not accept it. We will overcome it, and we will defeat it.

Now find your team, and get to work.

Love,

Leslie

Killian, the Bail Bonds Assisting Barista

Happy Birthday @emmasfairytale! This isn’t exactly fluffy but it is a coffee shop au so I fulfilled one of those things! Ily angel and I hope you had a great day! ♡

He’s an unarguably good looking man and that pisses her off. A lot.

She hates when skips are good looking. Not because she’s worried she’ll find herself attracted to them; that’s never a problem for her. It bothers her because she knows the type: shitty person, blessed with naturally good looks, uses said good looks to manipulate women into ignoring their horrible personality and accepting their ugly behavior.

Knowing what this man did—beat up his girlfriend and get himself arrested for aggravated assault—she’s entirely certain that his good looks were what convinced the girl to be with him in the first place. With his light green eyes, tousled dark hair, and a nice smile, she can see just how a certain type of woman would fall for his total lack of any other positive attributes.

The longer she sits there, at the two person table in the corner of the coffee shop near her office, listening to this man try to charm his way into her pants, the more frustrated she gets.

She looks around, trying to focus on anything other than the man across from her lest she lose her temper too soon, and realizes how nice the place is. The skip had already been seated with two coffees when she arrived (red flag number 1, ordering for her) so she didn’t have much of a chance to examine the place other than the points of exit. It’s a simply decorated place, nothing too kitschy considering the fact that it’s named The Jolly. There’s a simple, long black board behind the counter displaying the menu, an array of black chairs and tables around the open space, and the only indication of a seafaring theme, a row of nautical mugs displayed across the counter.

A barista with bright blue eyes and a tray of coffee in his right hand passes their table and gives her an assessing look. She shrugs delicately and returns her attention to the idiot across from her.

The guy said he came to this place often so the barista probably just recognized him and wondered why she was here with him. He’ll find out soon enough. 

She’s ready to pull the trigger, her hand resting on the cuffs strapped to her leg beneath her flowing, a line dress, when the same barista walks by, tripping and spilling the entirety of a mug of coffee into the man’s lap.

Chris, the smarmy bastard, jumps out of his seat, toppling his chair over in the process. 

“What the hell, dude?” he shouts, shaking out the leg that received the brunt of the mess. “What the fuck kind of place are they running here that this shit happens?”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the man says, not looking the least bit apologetic.

“You sure as hell should be!” he grunts, no longer as loud but still as forceful. 

“Here,” the barista offers, pulling a towel out of his back pocket.

Emma intercepts it.

“Let me help you,” she says with a coy grin. She gets out of her own seat and kneels next to Chris.

With one hand lightly dabbing his pants, she pulls the cuffs off her leg with the other. Mr. Macho Man is too busy being a smug bastard, grinning wildly to himself about the girl kneeling next to him and helping him dry off, to notice her actions.

“That’s a good loo—”

She cuts him off with the clank of the cuffs around his wrist before he can finish saying what she can only assume to be “that’s a good look for you.” And before he understands what’s happened, she’s got the other wrist trapped behind his back in the cuffs as well.

“Thank you,” she says to the barista standing dumbfounded next to her and ignores the indignant sputtering of the wet man in favor of his awed “No problem, lass.”

She marches the bail jumper out of the coffee shop with as little fanfare as possible. The man’s undeniably an idiot but he seems to have enough sense to realize what’s happening and how unlikely he is to get out of the situation.

It was a fairly easy catch, as far as these situations go and after getting rid of Chris Brown 2.0 she finds herself equal parts grateful and curious of the man who helped her. She heads back to the coffee shop with the intent to thank him. But when she walks in, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Hi,” she greets the pretty, red headed girl, with a name tag reading Ariel, behind the counter, “I’m looking for the man who was working here earlier today.”

She looks confused for a moment then a look of realization dawns on her face.

“You must be talking about Killian! Dark hair, blue eyes?”

“Yes, is he here?”

“He’s gone for the day,” Ariel explains. “He actually wasn’t supposed to work but Ashley called off because her baby was sick so he had to come in.”

“Oh.” She tries not to obviously deflate but she is disappointed she won’t be able to thank him.

“Did you have a problem?” she asks, concerned.

“No. No, I just… he kind of unknowingly helped me out with catching a bail jumper earlier and I just wanted to give him a nice tip.”

“Oh! You’re her!” she exclaims, eyes widening in excitement. “Killian always says it’s improper for the owner to accept tips but I’m sure he’d like to talk to you. Let me go get him. He’s right upstairs!”

The girl doesn’t exactly run around the counter and through the door leading to what she assumes is the stairwell but she doesn’t walk either. And after a few moments of standing there awkwardly, Ariel reappears with who she now knows to be Killian.

“Ah, you’re back. Here to arrest anyone else?” he asks with a smirk and she notices that he as an accent.

“No, I just wanted to thank you for your help… and I was wondering if you did that on purpose.” He raises a brow. “You know, spilling the drink on him.”

“I did,” he says evenly, nodding his head.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why?”

He bares his teeth in what she can only call an unamused grin.

“He’s in here often enough that I know what he’s like. Peevish, rude, a terrible tipper. He went off on one of my baristas the other day when I wasn’t here. Probably would have banned him from the establishment if she didn’t insist on me not doing so. I noticed you looked uncomfortable so I just did the first thing that came to mind to help you out of the situation.”

“Mmm,” she hums, unsurprised at his description of him. “Maybe next time if a guy does something like that, ignore the baristas wishes and make sure he stays gone.”

His eyes widen slightly at her suggestion but otherwise, he doesn’t seem to disagree with her.

“As you wish.” And then after a brief pause, “Do you mind if I ask what he did to end up in cuffs being very nearly pushed out of my establishment?”

“He beat the shit out of his girlfriend and skipped bail.”

“And that would make you a bail bonds person?” he questions tilting his head to the side in a manner entirely too endearing. He got the phrasing right and everything so it’s a little hard for her to resists his charming mannerisms.

“Yup.”

“Terribly sorry if this is too forward, lass, but do bail bonds people enjoy coffee or do they have a different choice of beverage for dates?”

She should tell him she hates coffee and walk out. She already thanked him for his help. But there’s something appealing about him that she can’t quite pin down. Maybe it’s his stupidly good looks, maybe it’s the way he had enough sense to wish to ban an aggressive man from his place of business, or maybe it’s the way he spilt hot coffee down a man’s lap to help a woman that appeared to be in distress, and it could possibly just be his damn good coffee. So instead she surprises herself and doesn’t walk out.

“Most bail bonds people enjoy coffee, myself included, but what this bail bonds person really enjoys is hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?”

“With cinnamon.”

“Aye, of course,” he says, grinning wildly and moving behind the counter.

“If you’re going to make me drink hot chocolate with you, then you’re going to tell me what made you chose the name, The Jolly,” she tells him with a grin she can’t stop from forming on her own face.

“I’m fairly certain I’ll be open to answering any questions you have.“

(( its been a tough couple of weeks, i think we could all use a little break))

Another Sleepless Night (McCree x Reader)

(Ahhh, I need this too much!!! I am a horrible person when it comes to McCree Fluff! And Thank you for helping me come back to the ‘Bad side’ of the tracks because I have been reading some other things so I needed to come back home. Enjoy ^_^ Mod Firefly)

2 Damn days…2 Damn days of barely any sleep and was starting to show it seems so you were hating yourself because usually, you could handle anything but not having him by your side, it made things hard. Stupid Soldier for sending him to Hollywood when it was already a hard time sleeping and seeing how he just got back and was beyond exhausted, you let him sleep as you got out of bed, going to the bathroom to think for a few minutes.

Angela offered to give you sleeping pills but you were a stubborn one, you didn’t want to take pills to sleep, you wanted to sleep to the heat of his chest and the smell of his cigar and whiskey by you. You left the bathroom and he was still snoring, earning a soft chuckle as you go to the living room and turn on a movie to help you feel sleepy. It was some children’s movie about a talking snowman and a woman who can make ice come from her hands, making me think of Mei.

“Darlin?” a voice is heard from behind you as you turn and look at him before biting your lip. He was in just his boxers and had appeared to have just woke up. “Darlin, it’s 3 in the damn mornin’ come back to bed.” He urges as they shake their head. “Sorry, can’t seem to sleep lately, you go back to bed.” you urge as he comes and sits by you before pulling you close. “Insomnia kicking you around again?” He asks as you nod and he smiles, taking your hand in his before kissing it gently. “Wait here darlin.” he warns as he gets up, leaving them alone to watch the children’s movie.

5 minutes pass as Jesse comes in with blankets, some kind of mug that had the most delicious smelling liquid inside of it and what looks like some lotion, making your eyebrows raise slightly. “Here, drink this while it is still hot and give me your feet.” He urges as you are confused before he takes them in his hands, rubbing the lotion on your feet as you drink the most delicious hot chocolate in the world. “Why are you spoiling me?” You ask as he smiles and kisses your knee, causing a blush to appear.

“You call it spoilin’…I call it pamperin’. Besides, this should make up for me leaving so much, hopefully.” He says with a hint of guilt in his eyes but you know that this cowboy has work more pressing than being here for you when you are having a bad day or not able to sleep during the night. “Jes, I understand, you don’t have to do this to make me understand. You have work and so do I.” You smile as he kisses your knees again and smiles his signature smile at you. “I am doing this to help you sleep…I can’t sleep well without you beside me.” He says as you realize that he was staying awake because you could not sleep.

“Did you finish your hot chocolate?” He asks as you nod and he takes the cup before settling in beside you, holding you and that’s when you started to feel sleepy. “Jes, thank you.” You mumble as he smiles and kisses your head. “Shh and sleep, sweetpea. I love you.” He says as he starts to hum something along the lines of a lullaby but before sleep finally took you into its embrace, you managed to make that man smile once more.

“I love you too Jesse…Thank you again.”

*- ^_^ Mod Firefly ^_^ -*

softly blurred

on Ao3

from the @miraculousexchange​ spring exchange for Amaranthis on tumblr (if you have a tumblr let me know!!) 

~technically~ the prompt was any side of the love square and the rain, but i went with all sides because i really love the 5+1 things trope!

also someone please get me to stop procrastinating oh my god i regret a lot

enjoy!


I love the rain.
I love how it softens the outlines of things.
The world becomes softly blurred,
and I feel like I melt right into it.

-Hanamoto Hagumi


i. summer - l’été

 The thick humidity breaks as thunder claps. Gray clouds hide the sun and Marinette stares at the drizzle with a sinking heart, thinking of the walk home in the downpour. Her maman has always told her to always have an umbrella on her. Better to be over prepared than caught in a storm.

Marinette has never been all that good at listening to other people’s advice.

Keep reading

Dear America,

Amidst the confusion, and despair, and disbelief, it was suggested to me by a very close friend of mine (I won’t say her name, to protect her identity) (Ann. It was Ann) that perhaps a few people would enjoy hearing my thoughts on this election. So I sat down at my computer, cleared my head, and opened a document. Then I started crying. So I had some hot chocolate, and my close friend (Ann) rubbed my back for a while, and I got myself together, and sat down. And started crying. Then more Ann comforting me, and more hot chocolate, and back and forth like that for about six hours or so, the chain of hot-chocolate-and-back-rubs only interrupted briefly when I had to run to the store for more hot chocolate packets (“Just give me all of them, all the boxes,” I remember saying, through tears, to a very scared stockroom boy) and now I am ready to go.When I was in fourth grade, my teacher Mrs. Kolphner taught us a social studies lesson. The seventeen students in our class were introduced to two fictional candidates: a smart if slightly bookish-looking cartoon tortoise named Greenie, and a cool-looking jaguar named Speedy. Rick Dissellio read a speech from Speedy, in which he promised that if elected he would end school early, have extra recess, and provide endless lunches of chocolate pizzandy. (A local Pawnee delicacy at the time — deep fried pizza where the crust was candy bars.) Then I read a speech from Greenie, who promised to go slow and steady, think about the problems of our school, and try her best to solve them in a way that would benefit the most people. Then Mrs. Kolphner had us vote on who should be Class President.I think you know where this is going.Except you don’t, because before we voted, Greg Laresque asked if he could nominate a third candidate, and Mrs. Kolphner said “Sure! The essence of democracy is that everyone—” and Greg cut her off and said “I nominate a T. rex named Dr. Farts who wears sunglasses and plays the saxophone, and his plan is to fart as much as possible and eat all the teachers,” and everyone laughed, and before Mrs. Kolphner could blink, Dr. Farts the T. rex had been elected President of Pawnee Elementary School in a 1984 Reagan-esque landslide, with my one vote for Greenie the Tortoise playing the role of “Minnesota.”After class I was inconsolable. Once all the other kids left, Mrs. Kolphner came over and put her arm around me. She told me I had done a great job advocating for Greenie the Tortoise. Through tears I remember saying, “How good, exactly?” and she said “Very very good,” and I said, “Good enough to—?” and she sighed and went to her desk to get one of the silver stars she gave out to kids who did a good job on something, and as I tearfully added it to my Silver Star Diary she asked me what upset me the most.“Greenie was the better candidate,” I said. “Greenie should have won.”She nodded.“I suppose that was the point of the lesson,” I said.“Oh no,” she said. “The point of the lesson is: people are unpredictable, and democracy is insane.”Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except all those other forms that have been tried.” That is perhaps a pithier and better way to get my point across, than that long anecdote about Mrs. Kolphner. Should I just erase all of that and start with this? Whatever. I’m pot-committed now, and is there extra caffeine in that hot chocolate? Because my head feels like a spaceship. The point is: people making their own decisions is, on balance, better than an autocrat making decisions for them. It’s just that sometimes those decisions are bad, or self-defeating, or maddening, and a day where you get dressed up in your best victory pantsuit and spend an ungodly amount of money decorating your house with American flags and custom-made cardboard-cutouts of suffragettes in anticipation of a glass-ceiling-shattering historical milestone ends with you getting (metaphorically) eaten by a giant farting T. rex. Like most people, I deal with tragedy by processing the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. My denial over the election results was intense. My anger was (in Ron’s words) “significant.” My bargaining was short, but creative — I offered my soul and the souls of all of my friends in exchange for 60,000 more votes in Milwaukee, to any demon who cared to accept. (Tom told me it was a terrible deal, but I didn’t care, in that moment.) My depression I have already mentioned. Which brings us to Acceptance.  And here’s what I stand on that:No. I do not accept it.I acknowledge that Donald Trump is the President. I understand, intellectually, that he won the election. But I do not accept that our country has descended into the hatred-swirled slop pile that he lives in. I reject out of hand the notion that we have thrown up our hands and succumbed to racism, xenophobia, misogyny, and crypto-fascism. I do not accept that. I reject that. I fight that. Today, and tomorrow, and every day until the next election, I reject and fight that story. I work hard and I form ideas and I meet and talk to other people who feel like me, and we sit down and drink hot chocolate (I have plenty) and we plan. We plan like mofos. We figure out how to fight back, and do good in this infuriating world that constantly wants to bend toward the bad. And we will be kind to each other, and supportive of each other’s ideas, and we will do literally anything but accept this as our fate.And let me say something to the young girls who are reading this. Hi, girls. On behalf of the grown-ups of America who care about you and your futures, I am awfully sorry about how miserably we screwed this up. We elected a giant farting T. rex who does not like you, or care about you, or think about you, unless he is scanning your bodies with his creepy T. rex eyes, or trying to physically grab you like a toy his daddy got him (or would have, if his daddy had loved him). (Sorry, that was a low blow.) (Actually, not sorry, I’m pissed, and I’m on a roll, so zip it, super-ego!) Our President-Elect is everything you should abhor, and fear, in a male role model. He has spent his life telling you, and girls and women like you, that your lives are valueless except as sexual objects. He has demeaned you, and belittled you, and put you in a little box to be looked at and not heard. It is your job, and the job of girls and women like you, to bust out.You are going to run this country, and this world, very soon. So you will not listen to this man, or the 75-year-old, doughy-faced, gray-haired nightmare men like him, when they try to tell you where to stand or how to behave or what you can and cannot do with your own bodies, or what you should or should not think with your own minds. You will not be cowed or discouraged by his stream of retrogressive babble. You won’t have time to be cowed, because you will be too busy working and learning and communing with other girls and women like you, and when the time comes you will effortlessly flick away his miserable, petty misogynistic worldview like a fly on your picnic potato salad.He is the present, sadly, but he is not the future. You are the future. Your strength is a million times his. Your power is a billion times his. We will acknowledge this result, but we will not accept it. We will overcome it, and we will defeat it.Now find your team, and get to work.

Love,Leslie

‘Parks and Recreation’: Leslie Knope Writes Letter to America Following Donald Trump’s Victory

I hate the fact that after the chamber of secrets, no one wanted to talk to Ginny about what happened to her. This girl was possessed for the better half of nine months and was made to do horrible things and the effects of that year probably haunted her on a daily basis. I can not possibly believe for the life of me that Molly and Arthur Weasley would not do everything in their power to help their daughter recover from the events from her first year. That Fred and George wouldn’t stay up with her some nights drinking hot chocolate and trying to make her feel better. If anything bothered me about Cursed Child it was that JK Rowling made this cannon. 

😊Sick Ex (Grayson x Reader)

Summary: You’re sick and your best friend takes care of you

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my first fic to be posted on here so please be gentle and send requests!

Originally posted by thedolangifs

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anonymous asked:

(I work at a cafe in a food court. We close before the other restaurants. We put a "closed" sign on the counter. This is a nightly occurrence) "Are you closed?" yes. "Is there any way you could make me a hot chocolate?" No. "it's just one drink. Can't you make an exception for me?" NO. You are talking to me while I'm dismantling/cleaning the machine that steams milk. My manager closed my till already. How do you expect me to serve you?

Like most people, I deal with tragedy by processing the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. My denial over the election results was intense. My anger was (in Ron’s words) “significant.” My bargaining was short, but creative — I offered my soul and the souls of all of my friends in exchange for 60,000 more votes in Milwaukee, to any demon who cared to accept. (Tom told me it was a terrible deal, but in that moment I didn’t care.) My depression I have already mentioned. Which brings us to acceptance. And here’s what I stand on that:

No. I do not accept it.

I acknowledge that Donald Trump is the president. I understand, intellectually, that he won the election. But I do not accept that our country has descended into the hatred-swirled slop pile that he lives in. I reject out of hand the notion that we have thrown up our hands and succumbed to racism, xenophobia, misogyny, and crypto-fascism. I do not accept that. I reject that. I fight that. Today, and tomorrow, and every day until the next election, I reject and fight that story.

I work hard and I form ideas and I meet and talk to other people who feel like me, and we sit down and drink hot chocolate (I have plenty) and we plan. We plan like mofos. We figure out how to fight back, and do good in this infuriating world that constantly wants to bend toward the bad. And we will be kind to each other, and supportive of each other’s ideas, and we will do literally anything but accept this as our fate.

And let me say something to the young girls who are reading this. Hi, girls. On behalf of the grown-ups of America who care about you and your futures, I am awfully sorry about how miserably we screwed this up. We elected a giant farting T. rex who does not like you, or care about you, or think about you, unless he is scanning your bodies with his creepy T. rex eyes or trying to physically grab you like a toy his daddy got him (or would have, if his daddy had loved him). (Sorry, that was a low blow.) (Actually, not sorry, I’m pissed, and I’m on a roll, so zip it, superego!)

Our president-elect is everything you should abhor and fear in a male role model. He has spent his life telling you, and girls and women like you, that your lives are valueless except as sexual objects. He has demeaned you, and belittled you, and put you in a little box to be looked at and not heard. It is your job, and the job of girls and women like you, to bust out.

You are going to run this country, and this world, very soon. So you will not listen to this man, or the 75-year-old, doughy-faced, gray-haired nightmare men like him, when they try to tell you where to stand or how to behave or what you can and cannot do with your own bodies, or what you should or should not think with your own minds. You will not be cowed or discouraged by his stream of retrogressive babble. You won’t have time to be cowed, because you will be too busy working and learning and communing with other girls and women like you. And when the time comes, you will effortlessly flick away his miserable, petty, misogynistic worldview like a fly on your picnic potato salad.

He is the present, sadly, but he is not the future. You are the future. Your strength is a million times his. Your power is a billion times his. We will acknowledge this result, but we will not accept it. We will overcome it, and we will defeat it.

Now find your team, and get to work.

– “A Letter to America from Leslie Knope, Regarding Donald Trump” (x)

Work at galaxydollars. Customer today orders a Grande peppermint mocha in drive thru. Complains I got the size wrong and wants a Venti, but takes the Grande because she “has no time”. Comes thru again complaining we gave her hot chocolate. Tries to make me take the original drink, I tell her it’s against store policy for me to take trash, she yells at me about not having room in her car for it, shoves it practically thru the window, doves off with new drink. Comes back into the store, crying to the shift supervisor about how we gave her hot chocolate. I watched the barista put the espresso in. Shift supervisor makes the drink herself, woman is finally pleased, even though it’s the same goddamn drink she got the first two times. First hilariously awful customer I’ve gotten since starting there. I can’t wait to hear about the scathing review she writes.

My Best Mistake

Prompt: Lin x reader, reader nearly hits Tobi with a bike, and invites Lin for coffee

Words: 1021

Author’s Note: I got nothing. This just sort of happened. Enjoy!

It all happened so fast. I had been riding through the park, idly minding my own business and listening to my music, when out of nowhere this little mass of gray and white fluff just appeared in front of me. Without even thinking, I swerved out of the way, going too fast to straighten myself out. In an instant, the bike was pulled out from under me, and I toppled into the grass on the other side of the path I’d been riding on.

Ow.

I started to sit up, rubbing my head and pulling my earbuds out. I couldn’t help but groan in pain as I moved my arm, which was now sore from where I had landed on it.

“Oh my god, Tobi, what the hell!”

I turned my head, remembering the animal I had just fallen to avoid hitting.

“Oh, shit! Are you alright? Please tell me you’re not hurt!”

I rolled my eyes; of course I was hurt. I had just flown a good three feet from a bike.

“I’ll be fine,” I grumbled, getting up.

“Thank god, I’m so sorry. I let her off her leash for one second and she took off.”

“Really, it’s not a big deal, I’m just sore.” I looked down at the dog, Tobi, now reattached to a leash, who was sniffing at my shoes. At least it had been a cute dog that I’d fallen for. I rubbed my head again as I turned around to look at her owner.

His long hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he had one earbud dangling waywardly off his shoulder. He looked familiar; I knew I had seen him before, I just couldn’t remember where.

“Seriously, thank you for not hitting her, but I’m really sorry you fell. Can I make it up to you?”

I shrugged. Why not let the cute guy whose dog I hadn’t hit do something nice for me?

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

He smiled widely at me, like I had just taken a huge weight off his shoulders. If he really felt that badly about my fall, I just might’ve.

“Let me buy you some coffee. There’s this great place not too far that makes the best lattes.”

“Okay, but only if they have hot chocolate. I don’t drink coffee.”

“What do you have against coffee,” he asked, reaching down to pick up my bike for me.

“I don’t like the taste,” I said as I took it from him. He shrugged at me and started to walk off, his dog trailing right beside him. I followed with my bike in hand.

“You don’t drink it for the taste,” he reasoned playfully. “It’s all about the caffeine.”

I smirked and shrugged back at him.

“I have Mountain Dew for that.”

He laughed at that, and I smiled back at him.

“I guess that’s true,” he agreed, looking over at me. “I’m Lin by the way.”

I stopped for a second, examining him again, more thoroughly than I had before. The name, like him, seemed familiar, but I still couldn’t place it. He stopped with me, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“And does Tobi’s savior have a name,” he questioned. “She’ll have to know who to make the gift box out to.”

I snorted and started walking again, watching as he did the same, bouncing a little to make sure he was ahead of me.

“(Y/N). Does Tobi need me to spell it for her so she gets it right?”

“Nah, I think she’ll manage. She’s a very talented dog.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “talented at almost becoming road kill.”

“Hey! She would’ve been really cute road kill!”

We laughed together at this before both going quiet. We were silent until we got to the coffee shop. He took my bike from me and carefully placed it next to the window.

“So, are you also going to buy me a new bike when someone steals that one?”

“We’ll be inside for five minutes tops, no one will steal it.”

I murmured my agreement and followed him into the store. I stood behind him while he ordered, remembering my demand for hot chocolate. After he picked up the drinks, he led me to a table outside, pulling out a chair for me to sit and handing me my cup.

“Thanks, Lin,” I said gratefully, taking a sip of it. He grinned and drank some of his own coffee.

“Good right?”

“Great actually. How’d you find this place?”

“I just happened to find it while walking Tobi one day. Completely by chance, but it was one of the best mistakes of my life.”

“High praise,” I said teasingly. “So while we’re on the subject of mistakes, and Tobi, can I ask you a question?”

“Well, I’m ninety-nine percent sure you just did, but yes, continue.”

I rolled my eyes and took another sip.

“Why do you seem so familiar? I feel like I’ve seen you before somewhere.”

“Well I’m on Broadway.”

“Oh really? Yeah, that makes sense. In what?”

He looked down, suddenly seeming a bit shy.

“Well, I kinda wrote a couple musicals. And I’m currently starring in one of them.”

“Well, very captive audience over here, do tell,” I giggled, gesturing for him to continue.

“Lets see, I did In the Heights a few years ago, and am currently in Hamilton.”

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty cool,” I replied, “I think that-“

Wait. Did he just say… Hamilton?

Something in my brain clicked.

Lin… as in Lin-Manuel Miranda?

I sat there frozen, staring at him with my mouth open. He shifted in his seat, drinking his coffee.

“So… you’ve… heard of it?” He looked at me, and I finally remembered to close my mouth.

“Heard of it. Yeah,” I said stupidly. “I saw Hamilton last night.”

“Really? Because, last night wasn’t really my best. There were a few things that went wrong, and I felt bad that-“

“It was amazing,” I finally responded, cutting him off. He grinned at me, looking happier than he had been all morning.

“Would you like to see it again?”


@fandomsinabookshelf - for being amazing and wonderful, and for the glorious gift that was this prompt

@intoleranttoast - for inspiring tonights writing binge

@elvndrk - mah friend, read this and let me know what you think? <3

@sasstran @piercethemarti

Time to Go - Newt

Your name: submit What is this?


“Y/N,” Thomas called as I sat on the grass, my eyes not leaving what I was staring at. “Y/N, it’s time to go,” he told me.

I bit my bottom lip as it trembled; sobs wanted to escape my body, tears to escape my eyes. I wanted to scream and shout, but not even a single word could come out of my mouth. I just sat and I sat and I stared and I didn’t stop; I couldn’t.

“You can go,” I choked out, finally. My words escaped my mouth quickly before I bit on my lip again so I wouldn’t start sobbing. 

“Thomas, let’s go,” I heard Minho whisper quietly. Nobody moved for a while though. It must’ve been at least a minute until I heard the sound of grass folding under their feet. 


“You know, usually, it’s the man that buys the lady flowers on Valentine’s day,” said Mrs. Chamberson, the florist. I offered her a tight-lipped smile. “I find it lovely that you buy him roses every month too. He’s very lucky to have you, Y/N.”

“No, Mrs. Chamberson, I’m the one lucky to have him,” I corrected, still keeping a smile on my face.

“Do you have any plans today?” She asked innocently. I didn’t know what to say, what I could stay. 

“Not that I know of,” I answered, struggling to keep my voice steady, “Just being together would be enough for the both of us.”


I sighed shakily as a tear fell down my face. My sigh came out a bit more like a gasp, as if I had just been shot. I covered my mouth with my hands, and soon enough, I covered my whole face as sobs racked my body. I put my hand on what I had of him, then another on my raging heart; my ignorant, beating heart.

I let the tears fall from my face as I sobbed as loud as I pleased. I didn’t care about anybody else watching; not at all.

It had only been a few weeks. Just a few weeks since the incident, and each day that passed felt like centuries. Ever since the incident, I had become a completely different person. I was no longer myself, I couldn’t be. I was a ghost of the person that he had come to love. 

I leaned against the gravestone, not being able to look at it any longer, but not being able to bring myself to just leave.

When I put my back against the black marble, I closed my eyes, and for a moment I felt like we were back at our flat sitting by the window, drinking hot chocolate as he held me into his arms. I felt like I could open my eyes, look up and be gazing into his beautiful eyes.

Those eyes… god, they were the reason I’ve been able to live this long.

But instead, when I opened my eyes, I was met by the now-cloudy sky gathering above me. The weather seemed to do that often now; create a grey storm cloud above me. I didn’t mind, not in the least, if anything it made me happy. It was like the sky was mourning his death with me. The sky was all I had left.

It was the only thing that made me feel like I wasn’t alone.


“See,” I began, “Thomas and the others, they don’t get it. They look at us and they see a gross cliché couple and they wonder why we can’t be any different,” I told him, “But I look at us and I see that we don’t care what the norm is and that, no matter how weird we are apart, we make sense together.”


It began to rain, but I didn’t move. I just sat there, losing myself. I didn’t care if I got a cold tomorrow. If anything, it would make sense, and right now, I just needed something to make sense since nothing ever made sense anymore.

“It’s a shame,” I told him, “I wanted to watch the sunset with you today. I wanted to finally catch the moment the sky would change from blue to orange,” I elaborated.

My breathing hitched as I took a deep breath before continuing, “I hope you like the flowers today. I always gave you red roses, I thought that maybe today I could give you something different. I wondered what it was until you reminded me that you loved the smell of lavender…” I struggled to keep my voice steady as I continued, “Because it reminded you of how my hair smelled when we had our first kiss.”

“Nothing makes sense anymore, Newt,” I admitted to him. “Thomas and the others… you know, they don’t understand. They want to, and they try, but they don’t. They can’t understand. You know, you don’t even understand,” I told him.

I paused again, taking another breath. “I found the ring,” I told him, “I… I looked through your drawer the night before last because it was cold and I needed a jumper and I missed you. I missed the feeling of your arms around me, and you joking around with me and making me laugh. I missed it so much the night before last. So, I took that ratty old jumper that you always wore and then I took it out of the drawer… and as it unfolded I saw a little navy blue, velvet box fall to the floor and I opened it…”

“God, Newt,” I whispered, “It was a beautiful ring. So beautiful. I wanted you to know that if you asked, I would have said yes. You know that, right?” I asked the air.

“Anyways, the boys don’t know that I found it, but when I did… I called Teresa, and I felt so… happy. You know why? Because for a split second, I forgot that you were dead,” I chuckled bitterly. “I forgot that you weren’t going to ever ask because you couldn’t. Not anymore.”

“The sound of her voice… I was basically squealing and giggling like a schoolgirl and then she had to remind me that you were dead,” I told him, looking at the patch of dirt beside me. “And then I just started crying and bawling and screaming… I’m pretty sure our neighbours thought I was dying or something,” I joked.

“I miss you, Newt,” I whispered. “You were a man of many miracles,” I said, turning away from him and facing the gravestone again. I traced his name with my index finger and offered him a tight-lipped smile. “So, do me a favour, Newt. Give me one more miracle. Just one, and I swear I will focus on paying you back for the rest of my life,” I told him.

“Just… just come back.”


From a few yards away, behind an apple tree, there stood a blond boy with brown eyes. He peaked out of the tree, just enough so he could see the girl mourning the death of her fiancé-to-be. He felt his heart tighten at the sight of the girl crying as she stood up and walked away.

Once she was far enough, the boy walked to the grave and picked up the bouquet, closing his eyes as he took a whiff of the smell.

God, he loved her.

He stood up, watching the girl walk away for another moment before sighing. He scratched the nape of his neck, put his hands in his pocket before walking the way opposite of her.