eye cues

How I imagine Draco's coming out
  • Draco: Mother, Father, I'm gay. I don't care if you don't like it, this is my life and--
  • Narcissa: Draco, we've known you were gay since you were 11.
  • Lucius: The only truly shocking thing about this is that it's taken you so long to tell us.
  • Draco: --I won't be stopped from--what? I don't--But... how?
  • Lucius: Draco, you sent us letters every day about how devastatingly perfect Potter was for five years.
  • Draco: WHAT? I did NOT!
  • Narcissa: You most certainly did, dear. Let me go get the boxes. We saved them all.

they’re all sweaty and gross after training but they still find the time to be cute

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo

[I didn’t want to make this too lengthy since it’s 1:00 am in the morning. I can’t be bothered to make a detailed analysis for Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo although I really wanted to express my admiration for it because I loved every bit of it.]

I have seen hype for this drama EVERYWHERE but as usual, I’ve never bothered to check it out. Now that I’ve started watching it (and already on the latest episode!), I can say that it’s such it’s exactly my type. How and why? I’ve never been much of a K-drama person, having W as the only drama I genuinely liked. I am extremely picky, if you haven’t noticed(cue the eye roll) Plus, this is a story between a weightlifter and a swimmer — that is not exactly appealing to me. But you see, the drama makes you feel so light-hearted but at the same time it doesn’t feel like the show slacks on the production and story just so it wouldn’t be too complex. It’s laidback without pushing it too much, so it shows you not just Kim Bok Joo and her budding relationship with Jung Joon Hyung, but also different depths of the characters that revolve in the story. As a matter of fact, it even shows you the side of the supposed rival, Si Ho, instead of making her look like a bad person without a reason just so the main couple’s relationship would stand out.
Each of the character’s personalities feel so realistic. The fact that they made characters like Jung Joon Hyung, struggling with PTSD, Song Si Ho, struggling with depression and eating disorders, and even the main character Kim Bok Joo sufferimg from the feeling of emptiness and hesitation may seem like a small thing to others but a very big thing to me. Although we belong in a completely different situation, them being athletes and me being the complete opposite, I experience the same problems, often feel like I have no idea what to do with my life, and have an eating disorder myself. Trying to overcome that is no easy job. Not only that, but it’s nice to see that real-life athletes get a representation of what they feel and how they may not seem as strong as they physically look. On the other hand, I also applaud Seon Ok and Nan Hee for being such strong women and for having great pride for their weightlifting skill. Although at times they may seem ashamed of it, they never gave up on it just because people told them weightlifting wasn’t for women. (I would also like to include how genuine their friendship felt like!)

All darker themes aside, as I’ve mentioned, it’s a drama you don’t have to think much about. The chemistry between Bok Joo and Joon Hyung, played by Lee Sung Kyung and Nam Joo Hyuk respectively, will draw you in. It’s so natural and absolutely adorable. It’s cute and quirky without being too cheesy or pretentious. If you’d sum it up, their relationship is basically just these two college kids having casual banters, petty arguments, and crazy antics here and there with their friends and fellow college students. It’s like falling in love with your best friend, like the “I feel safe and carefree with you that’s why I like you” kind of way.

It’s definitely a recommend for everyone, especially for youths because I know you’ll be glad to have a show understand your struggles somehow, but at the same time make you stay up all night wriggling and screeching your butts off. It shows you both the beauty and the reality of youth. Can’t wait for episode 14!


Red Room here we come - I taunt him.
He merely raises an eyebrow and directs me to continue. I make quick work of the green stripe and by some fluke, manage to knock in the final orange stripe.
— Name your pocket - Christian murmurs, and it’s as if he’s talking about something else, something dark and rude.
— Top left-hand. - I take aim over the black, hit it, but miss. It skirts wide. Damn.
Christian smiles a wicked grin as he leans over the table and makes short work of the two remaining solids. I am practically panting, watching him, his lithe body stretching over the table. He stands and chalks his cue, his eyes burning into me.
— If I win …
Oh yes?
— I am going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table.
Holy shit. Every single muscle south of my navel clenches hard.
— Top right, - he murmurs, pointing to the black, and bends to take the shot.

Friendly Reminder that Shuuichi Saihara:
  1. Didn’t have confidence in his detective skills(when he was actually really good)
  2. The girl(and love interest) who gave him confidence was first murderer
  3. Worse, her trap was based on his presumption
  4. And he himself had to choose her as blackened 
  5. She died brutally, right in front of his eyes
  6. Cue Clair de Lune. Lie down, Try not to cry, Cry a lot.
  7. Technically he was the only person who could actually lead class trial. 
  8. This game’s rival is the chessmaster who won’t stop lying for god’s sake-aka one of the DR characters with most interesting depth and gayness insanity.
  9. Skip several chapters to 4th trial, where he had to fight majority of group, especially his big brother mentor(who gave him courage to face the truth) to prove that the most innocent person was the killer
  10. Others blamed him, but what else he could do? After all, he’s the detective, who solves murder. Plus, if they couldn’t find the killer, everyone dies.
  11. Next chapter, either his big brother mentor or jerkass rival(who is gay for him) is victim-thus begins the most difficult, longest trial.
  12. Harukawa, the only person who did help Shuuichi during trial. This time he has to play Panic Talk Action against her-twice.
  13. Yes. The blackened was him. Again Shuuichi had to choose the person who believed in him as murderer(At least he died peacefully).
  14. Adding cherry on top: he was looking forward to join killing game(!)
  15. Everything-his talent, character, personality, relationship-is fiction. A lie.
  16. Cue despair. What else can you do when everything was just mere lie?
  17. No, he didn’t deny hope without reason. Dangan Ronpa could continue for 53 seasons because viewers wanted story where hope always won. He won’t allow killing game(where their true feelings are ignored) to continue anymore!
  18. He willingly choose punishment, aka death, to stop this endless fight between hope and despair
  19. Fortunately(?) he survived, with two other people. But wait, so was everything just fiction? The only truth they can be sure is that they’re alive.
  20. They will live in order to find truth. After all, the memories during killing game was not fiction.

…anyone crying now? It’s okay. After all, crying is natural response to pain.

Petition to hug Shuutan and protect this precious cinnamon roll with extra cinnamon sprinkled aka our fav detective emo boy at all cost 2K17

in memoriam [ichigo/rukia]

whipped this up on skype right quick into a speedwrite for @sequencefairy :) 261 words, no capitalization. i needed to write some ichiruki.


ichigo likes literature. symbolism, the deeper introspection, it makes the gears turn in his head and his fingers continue flipping pages. there’s an empty sort of feeling under his ribs and fingertips whenever he finally closes the cover and winds up turning it over so the author portrait doesn’t stare at him as he sleeps.

a consideration he’s kept tucked close like dog eared pages is writing a novel of his own life. it’s boring for the most part and maybe people would enjoy his deadpan recounts of the time his father ate too much fish and stunk up the bathroom for a week but then he crumples up that draft with a roll of his eyes.

cue rukia, entering stage right in all black and violet eyes cutting him deeper than paper cuts ever will. now he wants to weave yarns about the pages describing how much he hates the kicks she delivers to her gut and loves the twirl of her hakama when she turns and looks at him over her shoulder.

he’ll never write it. he’s teenage angst, brash and bruised knuckles. he doesn’t do pretty words about pretty girls but he does stare into her eyes with a longing born of lovers separated by time and her own is reflected back in her pupils.

besides, ichigo hates endings. as she disappears behind the supernatural sliding doors toward the seireitei, scarred and singed by blades and wrong fate, his heart and fingertips cry out for her touch that sings ‘to be continued’ instead of a crushing ‘PERFECT END’.


Originally posted by apgujeon

Group: BTS

Pairing: Volleyball player!Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Volleyball AU, suggestive themes

Word Count: 167

Author: Admin Violet

“Ow! Babe, that hurts.” Jungkook winces in pain as you ice his sprained foot.

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if you weren’t being so zealous,” you spit venom at your overly competitive boyfriend, your tone juxtaposing with the delicacy and care you use to hold Jungkook’s foot.

“What happened anyway?” You prop his injured foot on the coffee table and sat down next to him so that you could tender to the wounds on Jungkook’s face. He flinches again as you dab disinfectant on the scratches on his cheek. “We were at match point and I was just in the zone.”

Cue eye-roll. “That’s what you say for every volleyball-related injury you get.” You place a bandage on his cheek.

“It’s true though!” Your boyfriend put his arms up in defense.

“Jeon Jungkook, I will unscrew that ice bag and put the ice down your pants.”

“I never thought you were into ice play, babe,” he chuckled and you playfully punched his shoulder.

anonymous asked:

This is going to sound awfully snobbish and arrogant. But I am struggling so much with the concept of narrowing my thesis. I'm writing a PhD and want to write about something meaningful (cue eye rolls...I know) but I keep on being told to narrow, narrow, narrow. I know this is very good advice, but it often feels like my topic is becoming uselessly niche and generally not very interesting or important. Have you experienced this feeling before? How do you get past this!?

So, I’m really mad because I wrote like a six-paragraph response to this and then acidentally hit the ‘back’ button. Fuck Tumblr for not saving drafts automatically. Fuck me for not doing it manually. Anyway I’m going to try to remember everything I just wrote: 

This doesn’t sound arrogant to me, but it does sound a little naïve. Now, bear with me while I talk about bees for a minute. (Yes, you read that right. Bees.) Bees are small. Some people are scared of them and some shitty people kill them, but most just don’t think about them very often. But without bees pollination wouldn’t happen, plants would die, animals that eat plants would die, and animals that eat animals that eat plants would die. Basically, without bees we’d be pretty much fucked. The same is true of academia. If you want to say anything meaningful, you have to know the minutiae first. You want to have big majestic bears, you can’t kill off the bees. Everybody who starts working on a thesis or dissertation wants to say something grand and meaningful, but those romantic notions will wear off pretty much as soon as you sit down to actually do the work and realize how many little things you need to know just to be qualified to attempt that. Academia is not the place for romance. It’s a place to be realistic. What kind of argument can you make convincingly in about 20,000 words? 

Here’s the other thing: Believe it or not, the ‘niche’ research is often what ends up being the most valuable. I mean, thank God Marcus Nordlund wrote 95 pages on the economy of candles in the early modern indoor playhouse so I didn’t have to in order to talk about darkness in The Duchess of Malfi. Thank God Charles S. Forker understands the Renaissance legal system in Naples so I didn’t have to learn Latin to edit one scene of The Devil’s Law-Case. You get the idea. All scholars have different specialties, and what might not seem particularly interesting to one may up being vitally important to another. ‘Niche’ is not a bad thing. Writing something ‘niche’ actually enables you to to make a sharp, pointed, and thoroughly researched argument instead of trying shoehorn a huge philosophical statement into a graduate thesis. At best it’s going to come out feeling cramped, at worst woefully incomplete, and either way two weeks before your deadline you will want to die. Trust me. I’ve made that mistake too many times to tell it any other way.

Here’s what I’d suggest: Start with one of those big ideas you’re passionate about. Feminism, atheism, colonialism, whatever. Start there and start reading primary/secondary material. (Pro-tip: Start with the most recent criticism and use their bibliographies to follow the breadcrumbs back to the origins.) As you do this reading, look for themes or trends or specific details of the argument that intrigue you. For instance: My dissertation started with the huge unwieldy topic of n/Nature in King Lear. Eight months later I’m using a very specific strain of Aristotelian ethics to explore the question of culpability for three of Shakespeare’s tragic villains. Narrow? Hell yes. But because the argument is so narrow it actually enables me to say, “Shakespeare was really the only early modern playwright (besides Chapman, sort of) who eschewed the absolute moral binary in favor of weighing characters’ actions against intent, agency, and other mitigating/aggravating factors. This matters because it’s the same legal framework we still use today, which makes it much easier to understand the plays and supports their continued relevance.“ That’s a big statement. But I can back it up because my research has been both exhaustive and specific. Have I had to read a lot of really dense philosophy and theology and jurisprudence dating back several thousand years? Yes. Has all of it been fun? Absolutely fucking not. But all of that ‘niche’ work has enabled me to present what I feel is a meaningful interpretation of Shakespeare’s tragic villains, which is something I care a whole lot about. This is a really long of way of saying: Start with the big idea and find a little idea inside the big idea. That’s how you stay excited without biting off more than you can chew. 

Make it about the bees. When you have a professorship and twelve research assistants you can worry about bears.

How Republicans made me fall in love with Hilary Clinton (an essay which will probably end up being far too long)

A year and a half ago, or somewhere thereabouts, Hilary Clinton released a video announcing her candidacy. I rolled my eyes. I didn’t really know enough about her to have a strong opinion, but I’d only really heard negative things. I learned some more about her and discovered, that yes, I disagree with many of her policies, and she’s done a lot of things I don’t like. Cue more eye-rolls.

Then Donald Trump tweeted that disgusting comment about her not being able to satisfy her husband. I watched thousands agree. I could not believe anyone (let alone a candidate for president) would publicly blame a woman for her husband’s infidelity. I imagined the disgusting crap she must have faced in the nineties, and saw her on the other side of it; strong and making her family work.  I decided I may disagree with her, but I sure as hell respected her as a person. 

Then a myriad of scandals came out. By this point, I was more than aware of what Trump and his supporters were, and tread with gentle and skeptical steps, taking it all with a grain of salt because I had already seen the way the opposition treated her candidacy. 

I decided out of everyone, I probably liked Sanders the best, politically. Madeline Albright, amongst others, implied that women must vote for Clinton because she’s a woman, and that made me made too. But I continued to watch people throw Clinton down and watch her get up again. I continued to watch everything she did be twisted as too strong or too weak, too “unlikable”, while her male counterparts were praised for the same things. I watched her be slammed by Republicans for things like gleefully talking about her baby granddaughter, for dancing, and for laughing. And time and time again, I watched her brush it off, and continue to do everything she could to keep working towards her goals for the country. There were still things about her political career that I did not like, but I decided I definitely liked her as a person.

It became apparent though, as others dropped out of the race, that she was the only one who would stand up for minorities, and families, immigrants, and refugees. Okay, so maybe sh’es the best option politically too. 

We learned more about her scandals. A few things came out that I did not and still do not condone, and that was disappointing. Everything else was just human negligence (for which she apologized) and falsehoods, by which she was held captive, long after they were proved false. I watched her undergo an ELEVEN hour hearing, and come out clean, and then I watched Republican candidates and most of the public continue to rebuke her for criminal activity of which she was found innocent. 

So she had done some very not great things I didn’t support, that caused and to some degree causes me not to trust her, but it was clear to me by this point that she was being treated unfairly, and that people had painted a picture of a callous, uncaring woman, that did not fit her at all. Of all the candidates left, she would still get my vote if I’d had one. 

Then more of Trump’s scandals started coming out and they never stopped. Scandal after scandal, which the media and public paid attention to for about a week a piece and then forgot about. Then the Access Hollywood tape came out, and the Howard Stern clips, and still, he had overwhelming support. at this point, I began to feel, as many women did, genuinely terrified. How could this man say those things and still have the support, the defense and condonement even, of millions? And how was Clinton still somehow being put on the same level as him? At this, I stopped caring entirely about the fact that I didn’t trust Clinton when it came to documents and financial transparency, because I couldn’t even trust Trump to be alone with Billy Bush, or myself, or a little girl. And that tipped the scale to the floor for me. 

I then saw Clinton bare through questions and comments all women know too well. I saw her as prepared as she could be, give full, policy-filled, diplomatic answers in  response to a man who had clearly barely even read his own notes,  and then I read as polls and news sites declared  him a winner, because of that one thing he said, or because he wasn’t as bad as they expected him to be. 

From then on, that was all I saw; Trump doing immensely horrible things, and Clinton being held to his level for a tiny fraction of his actions. He’d scream derogatory insults, she’d raise her voice slightly in a passionate speech; 

“Both of them have terrible temperaments!”

He openly admitted to not paying his taxes, and she was blamed for not stopping him.

“Trump wants more war crimes!” “Emails”

“Trump scammed customers with a fake university” “Emails!”

“Trumps being sued for sexual assault” “Emails!”

And while he continued to do and say outrageous things, and she continued to be dragged through the mud, she went on fighting for everything she believes in. She was treated in a way that no male candidate with her same record would ever be treated,  and she just kept fighting for what she believes was good, and right, and fair.

This election came down to a KKK-endorsed, money-losing, sexual predator, who has openly said he does not respect women, who has confirmably discriminated against people based on their race on multiple occasions, who wants to ban entire religions from a country founded on religious-freedom… and an experienced, intelligent woman who’s spent thirty years working to improve the lives of children, and minorities. And it wasn’t even obvious who the winner would be.

This brings me to today. I was filled with anxiety all morning, desperate for a woman, with whom I disagree on many things, to win the presidency she deserved. To win power over a country she would fight for, and over people she would fight for - all people. Tonight I am sobbing, because this woman should be the new president. This woman is who should be representing America. This woman who is a master of every skill needed for the job, lost to a man who has none of the skills needed for the job. I’m crying for the country, and what Trump will do to those unlike him, and I’m crying for Hilary Clinton, because this was supposed to be hers, and I’m crying for the millions of kids who still don’t know that a woman can be president. 

I’m too tired and sad to reread this or fill it with links to sources, so I’m going to bed, and feel free to ask me about any of this in the morning. I hate this. Goodnight. 

Christian smiles a wicked grin as he leans over the table and makes short work of the two remaining solids. I am practically panting, watching him, his lithe body stretching over the table. He stands and chalks his cue, his eyes burning into me. “If I win…” Oh yes? “I am going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table.” Holy shit. Every single muscle south of my navel clenches hard.


gallagher girls classified week: day 1 - favorite banter exchange

“I don’t think there are a lot of snipers at thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic.”
“Yes,” Abby countered, “because obviously a plane is never on the ground, like it is…say…now.”
“Oh, please.” Townsend shrugged off her worries. “If they know she’s on this plane, they’ll simply shoot the whole thing down.”
“Oh,” Bex and I said at the same time. 
Even after the plane took off, they kept debating security perimeters and protocols. I’m pretty sure they argued for forty-five minutes about where the best place for cappuccino was near the Colosseum.