i got to shake hands with them

Ok so, the director of the Jojo anime, Naokatsu Tsuda, did a Q&A at anime boston and he had a lot of very cool things to talk about! I also got to ask him a question, get a photo with him, and shake his hand so that was pretty exciting.

It was interesting to hear that Araki had approached them when they started part 4 to ask them to add in the foreshadowing scenes with Kira, because when he was writing it he didn’t know who the main villain would be, and if he had known, this is how he would have wanted it to have been.

He said the color schemes for the characters were based off the medicos palettes because those are Araki approved, and that they wanted to add in those color changes because 1) no other anime does that and 2) he felt like everyone reading it had different visions of the colors and wanted to include that feeling it in.

His favorite openings were the first one and Great Days, and he talked about how usually directors don’t get a say in the openings but he got to choose the style of music and the feel for the openings. He also mentioned he couldn’t legally say which songs he wished he could have used for the endings but he had a lot.

Usually, animes come out before games, so the VA’s from the anime carry over to the game, however since All Star Battle was out before the anime, what they did was they allowed those VA’s re-audition for their rolls, however since game voices are recorded alone, and anime is recorded together in a group, they cast VA’s based on how well the teams meshed together, which was why some VA’s were chosen differently for the anime. They wanted to have a team that sounded good all together.

He also said the first opening included all the Jojos because he wanted to promise the fans that he would animate them all. He really wants to do all the parts, and said it really helps if we show the companies like Warner that we have an interested in them by doing things like writing in! So please let them know you want more Jojo!! He asked us all to please send comments in!

Anyway, my own question was which part he would be most excited to animate and he said part 8. And then facetiously asked how we all knew part 8 if it wasn’t officially translated which we all nervously laughed at. I mentioned I owned ultra jumps and that iggy keychain that came with one of them and he said he had that too.

Quotes from Harry Styles’ Interview

Writing for his album

“I started the album end of Feb last year for about three weeks and then had to stop for about 5 months when I went to do a movie. I came back to it in July and finished writing it in December. For a while before all I thought about it was stressing about what it was going to be. It gave me a chance to completely step away from it for a bit and have a real break. By the end of the movie, because we were swimming so much I just wanted to write songs…I think we wrote about 70 songs - we did 50 songs and ideas in Jamaica and that’s including like little ideas. Well full songs, I say there are 30 songs probably. One of the songs on the album, I wrote a few years ago.”

On his album

“I was with the guys who I was writing it with and we just wanted to make what we wanted to listen to and that has been the most fun part for me about making the whole album. In the least weird way possible, it’s my favourite album to listen to at the moment… I hope we did a good job but I really like the album so I hope people like it. I think if you put out something that you don’t stand behind and really love, then if it doesn’t go well then you could regret not doing what you wanted to do. Whereas if nothing happens with it, I love it you know so I think that’s what you should do. I think that’s been my favourite part to the overall thing is listening to the album and making all the changes – it has been fun to watch over it all.”

Writing in Jamaica

“I just wanted to not be somewhere that I’d get distracted. It was 360 of writing, you’d go home for dinner, write at the house then go back to the studio. I liked being away from everything and doing it like that.”

About his debut single

“It’s a bit weird, I feel like I’ve been hibernating for so long now and you hear it in the safety of the studio and now it’s time to give birth … it’s the song (debut single) I’m most proud of writing.”

About making it on his own

“I’ve been hibernating trying to get it all ready, that’s been fun, but I like this bit as well. I think it’s gonna be fun, it’s gonna be good. It’s not like I’m travelling on my own now, I have a band and everything and they’re amazing.”

Ed Sheeran

“I played him (Sheeran) a few songs after the album was finished. He didn’t say that he didn’t like any, but he did like one song that isn’t on the album. So I did have a bit of a minute of like hmmm no but…”

On Adele

“I’ve spoken to her a little bit, she knows one of the guys that I wrote it with (his music) a lot. But I don’t think so much advice, I just like how she does stuff. I think she leads by example, she’s the biggest, she’s amazing, she’s the best so she should be the biggest. The thing with her is she’s a different thing, she’s just good at it, I like how she does everything, it looks very nice. For my 21st she gave me one of her albums 21 and said, ‘I did some pretty cool stuff when I was 21, good luck’ and I was like, 'geez’.”

On Dating

“I haven’t dated in a long time really because I went away to do the movie then did the album so I haven’t in a while. I have a couple of candles left still though. 

Whether dating when famous is hard

“I don’t know, maybe. I feel like with all of the stuff how people date now, with all online stuff, I feel like you can do that (Google) with anyone really if you’re looking at someone’s profile before seeing them. It’s kinda the same… No, I used to (research dates), then I said I’m not going to do that anymore, it’s impossible to go in without a perception of someone and you’ve never met them and I started feeling like that was wrong and weird. I think I snore, and also I quite like routine, so I don’t know if I’m ­incredibly spontaneous.”

Cutting his hair for Dunkirk

“I felt very naked for a while. I was like yeah, I’ve gotta shave my hair off. It wasn’t a hard decision, it got made into a wig.”

Why he rarely tweets

“I don’t like saying something for the sake of it.”

Life at home and work

“The first time I went home not wearing trainers, I was in a pair of boots. Someone said, ‘What the bloody hell are they?’ I like to separate working and being at home with family.”

Staying grounded

“It’s easier in the way that I like to separate stuff from working and being at home with family and stuff. When you separate it it’s easier to see it for what it is. When you let it become everything and that’s your whole life, then it’s easy to get a bit lost in it. I’m lucky, I have amazing friends and my family’s amazing so I think they make it easier to keep the separation between the two which makes it easier for me.”

Being nervous about playing his music to others

“I think it’s nerve-racking in that I’ve only played it to like 10 people in a room. I try and not be there if I’m playing it…”

His mother and step-father’s reactions to the album

“I played the album to them the first time and there’s one song that’s got a vocal effect on it, the whole album finished then my stepdad said: ‘I’ve one question, where did you get the duck from, how did you get a duck in the studio?’ I was like: ‘That was me, thanks’. My Mum liked it which was handy. She cried a couple of times which was good, I think that was good.”

Musical Influences

“I think it’s hard to not have influencers from what you grew up listening on. I think everyone reacts differently to different types of music. I had a good range between my mum and dad… my dad listened to Fleetwood, The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd and Queen. My mum was like Norah Jones and Savage Garden. There are a lot of melodies there.”

Being starstruck by other celebrities

“I remember the first time we went to an awards show in the US, we met Will Smith. It was a brief meeting – he was nice and very tall.”

Addressing the rumour about getting a sheep placenta facial

“No I’ve never had a sheep placenta facial.”

Rumours about Hobama

“I’m not allowed to talk about that.”

Rumour on taking his dates on helicopter rides

“No I’ve never done that,” Harry says, with Grimmy responding: “Not even with Barack?”

“No,“ Harry says. “It was his helicopter, haha.”

Talking about Chris Martin

“He’s lovely isn’t he? He is good at telling you to take care of yourself. I think he makes sure you are alright and is very zen. I think he is a pretty wonderful man.”

On Ronnie Wood

“Big fan, I love Ronnie Wood – I think I met him at a dinner party a few years ago and went to a couple of Stones shows…I think he is the nicest.”

Interviewing Paul McCartney for his Another Man issue

“It was amazing – his voice sounds like a song.”

Loving scented candles

“I mean I think everyone loves scented candles. But I usually take one from home if I’m travelling.”

About sprouts being the new kale

“I went two days ago. I got some spinach, eggs, OJ, milk, turkey and some brussels sprouts. Hmm what else did I buy…oh some Crème Eggs. I like putting sprouts in a curry and I like sauteing them. I think they are going to be the new kale. I met [someone] and I asked her what she did and she said ‘I’m the PR lady for Kale’ and I was like ‘good job then.”

Talking about his four nipples

“Still got them, managed to keep them. Maybe I just hide them in limited edition albums, like golden tickets. I’ll hold onto them.”

Best trait

“Best trait I don’t know, it’s weird to pick your best, shall we go with the nipples thing.”

On where not to ask him for a selfie

“I think in toilets is the weirdest one. It’s happened a couple of times… When someone tries to shake your hand right after having a wee, ‘I might wash my hands first’.”

About Liam’s son and being a potential godfather

“I spoke to Liam and he’s loving it. He said it’s going really well and everyone’s great. So I’m very happy for him. I think it’s a roll of the dice, there are a lot of people Liam has in mind. I’m not going to add any extra pressure. If it came my way I would be honoured.”

ok but kara thinking “i can’t do this” and shaking her head at alex, and alex putting her hand on the glass “you got this” and kara trying again with this newfound determination?? the two of them looking directly at each other and kara finding all of this strength inside her bc alex is in this ship and alex believes in her and alex thinks she can do this so she definitely can, and then the ship is stopped and kara slumps against the window and both of their hands are reaching toward each other without them even thinking about it, and i’m so glad the writers remembered what the heart of this show is

it gets easier to talk about but it also gets harder to talk about. i have to unfold things carefully, but the map shows better. here’s the first time i got hit by a parent, here’s the first time i got hit by a partner. they’re around the corner from each other, mirror images or hands holding or two sides of a blade. the look on people’s faces always is the same when they find out. like the words hurt them in the pit of their stomach. i feel bad when it does that; i know what it’s like to be suckerpunched. often i comfort people right after: oh, no, it’s okay, i’m okay now, it’s fine, i’m all in one piece, i got out, i’m a resilience child, i learned kindness, i found inner peace, i meditate twice a day, i do yoga and drink kale shakes and eat as if nobody ever made my teeth bleed. some of these are lies, but that is fine too, because it’s better that people don’t know an ugly truth.

sometimes i forget who in the room knows. i laugh about what happened like a punchline (get it) and people stare at me with mouths open like moons. oh my god, did that really happen to you? i don’t know. sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, out on a distant planet. sometimes it feels like it never happened at all. sometimes it feels like it’s still happening. how can you laugh at that? and is that true? how do i say “because if i don’t laugh it’s serious” because of course it’s true. for proof: raise your hand a fraction too smooth. watch the shadow pass over my face. watch me curl away. watch me change. like a chameleon girl, i shift my shape. someone who doesn’t know laughs. you’re certainly jumpy. the girl at the table who helped me cover the bruise stares at me, watching my chest, trying to figure out if i’m panicking. he’s confused when quiet are you okay questions touch my skin - only those who know, only those who are watching.

and i smile, because it’s easier to talk about but it’s harder to admit it still effects me. memories should be left in the kingdom of dreams. sometimes i feel like i should be done with it already. i stare at a picture of cartoons that says if you don’t know these, you didn’t have a childhood. i know all but two of them. some of them i watched after it happened. i really liked scooby doo. in the end, the mask comes off and the bad guy is revealed and he goes to jail. in real life, i wait for someone to come take his mask off. it just makes him mean. the blue lights of the law never show up on the green of our lawn. i had a pretty good childhood, i think. it made me interesting, at least. i picked blueberries.

i laugh about it a lot. talk about how it’s funny that if you got abused there’s just, like, a second round of partner abuse, sitting out there, waiting for you. that you’re the most likely to pick an abuser from the crowd - or worse, like beauty and the beast, watch yourself become her. see your rotten hands and think of your father. isn’t that funny! that i can take a hit and i’d rather take a lifetime of them than be the one doing the giving just once. i talk about how you walk in the eclipse of it. that it confuses you when the sun comes out. that when you find someone who won’t hurt you, you still walk on eggshells, waiting for them to hurt you. i say it through a smile, because if you bend yourself the right way, your life looks more like comedy-drama than just plain tragedy. i watch fantastic beasts and where to find them and when the abused child turns out to be beyond saving, i hear myself laugh in a bark. or it was a sob. i can’t tell. it doesn’t matter. in my world, children like me learned about magic early, and how our own actions can turn a man from a gentle person into a savage beast. 

okay, i say, smiling, maybe if you put it that way, yeah, i was abused and it wasn’t funny. but come on. think of the puns! you could say my life was really a hit! now don’t be upset. it’s funny. it’s funny. it’s funny.

Good Girls Go Bad

Set in the 40’s. Y/N was your stereotypical girl next door, growing up in the apartment right across the hall from James Buchanan Barnes. She had always been the shy, reserved girl; she was the complete opposite of the enigmatic ladies man. Despite their proximity, she was sure that he didn’t even know she existed. What happens when they run into one another during a night out on the town? Is just one night all it really takes? 

Word Count: 3,408

Warnings: swearing, smut


Originally posted by evanstansource


You sighed, adjusting your dress as you gazed into the mirror. Even though it was still rather conservative, you couldn’t help but notice that it was more revealing than you were used to. The neckline plunged rather low, the collar fastened with a bow that drew attention to your cleavage. The waist was cinched, showing off your figure. Paired with the red heels that your friends had chosen for you, you were looking like a regular bombshell. Your friends had insisted that you go out with them tonight. You had turned them down too many times. They said that now, of all days, you had to accompany them. The newest army recruits would be shipping out tomorrow, and it was sure to be a lively night.

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Mile High Club

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, blowjobs

Word Count: 785

Prompt: The reader finds a quick way to calm Dean down during a flight.

Beta: @impala-dreamer

Originally posted by wellcometothedarkside

“Dean, you need to calm down. You’re freakin’ everyone out here,” Sam grumbled, punching his brother’s shoulder. “It’s a plane, not the Titanic.”

“Planes can crash,” Dean countered. “The Titanic sunk, it’s possible that this metal thing could just blow up any second.”

A woman in front of Dean turned around, shooting him a glare as she tried to comfort her young son who was now about as freaked out as Dean. “Planes are built to fly. They always check them before they go up,” she stated matter-of-factly. The second she turned her back, Dean was mocking her. This time you punched his arm.

The plane hit a bit of turbulence in the air, and you grit your teeth when Dean’s nails sunk into your arm. “Release the death grip, my arm’s gonna fall off.” He sighed, unleashing your arm. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can get you some water.” You suggested, having had enough of Dean’s panic.

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A Lesson in Love (Confessions)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,178

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, this is not the end of story.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - The messages you sent me after editing this part let me know that I had successfully tugged on all of the right heartstrings, so thank you for that.

Originally posted by ditchthevillian

Whenever an uncomplicated task arises, people say it’s as easy to accomplish as breathing. The adage always made perfect sense to you whenever you heard it. Breathing is second nature. It can be done without having to think twice and, sometimes, it feels like certain tasks are the same way.

Today, that’s not the case. Standing here across from Bucky for the first time in weeks, you find that breathing is anything but easy. The air was knocked out of your lungs as soon as you stumbled upon the note he wrote on the canvas and you haven’t yet recovered. You have to keep reminding yourself to breathe, just breathe. But it’s hard. How are you supposed to remember to inhale and exhale in a moment like this?

“Are you going to say something?” You press, once the silence of the room becomes too unbearable. Your fingers curl tightly around the canvas as you wait for Bucky to speak. “Anything?”

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Worth

Canon ‘verse Dean and Cas talking about feelings

read it here on AO3!

“Cas, I just - I don’t think we can do this,” Dean says.

And Cas, sitting beside him in shotgun, tastes loss in his mouth. He stares straight ahead.

He’s been waiting for this, if he’s honest with himself. It was too good to be true. He and Dean have been - things have been different between them, recently. They’ve been saying more, showing more. It’s been filling a part of Cas that he hadn’t even understood was aching and empty, until suddenly it wasn’t.

But now…

“It’s - you know, we got jobs to do,” Dean says. Outside, the night rolls past. They’re driving home to the bunker, shopping bags in the back. The trip was domestic, even sweet; but at the check-outs, Cas saw Dean’s face. He’d known that something was shifting. He’d known that there was trouble to come.

“Jobs?” he manages.

“Yeah, Cas, jobs. We got the world to save. Half the time we’re throwing ourselves under the bus so it won’t drive off the cliff, and that’s good, because the bus won’t crash, but…” He pauses; Cas says nothing. “But - God, Cas, it’s so much harder to throw yourself under the bus when you got someone out there who makes you think you shouldn’t have to.”

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a love spell, or something like it

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

This doesn’t make any sense.

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

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

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anonymous asked:

Yo a prompt here they meet in a pair one night like pastelxpunk punk!Phil being out with some mates and Dan with some uni buds and Dan wears like skirts and stuff and get this that night he's wearing fishnets so when they get to Phil's apartment later Phil just rips them apart bc Dan's been subtly teasing him all night long and they like do it on the kitchen counter thanks

Phil was annoyed, and horny. Lately it seemed like those were his main emotions, but right then, he didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to think about the fact that that extremely attractive guy across the bar kept winking at him.

Or maybe he wasn’t looking at him so suggestively. Maybe Phil was delirious, but really, he didn’t care. He wanted that boy riding him, he wanted him desperate and screaming and he wasn’t getting any closer to that on the other side of the room.

“Phil?” His friend Chris laughed, waving his hand in front of Phil’s face. “You’re spacing out again.”

Phil turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows, licking his lip ring. It was somewhat new, and he couldn’t stop messing with it.

“Was I?” He asked, huffing.

“Uh, yeah. You were.” Chris took a swig of his drink, Phil had forgotten what it was because his own brain had been muddled by the alcohol, and set the glass back down on the counter. “Are you gonna fuck him or what?”

“I don’t even know him,” Phil muttered, rolling his eyes and slowly taking a sip of his own drink.

“So?” Chris smirked. “That’ll just make it better. He keeps looking at you.” He nodded in the boy’s direction and Phil whirled around, catching his eye.

Surprisingly, he didn’t look away. The man kept his gaze, smirking gently and looking him over, before slowly looking away. Chris slammed his glass down on the counter.

“That was a fucking invitation if I’ve ever seen one,” he grumbled.

Phil considered it; what he wouldn’t do to get his hands on that guy. He was wearing a flowy yellow shirt that showed his stomach, and a very revealing skirt, as well as goddamn fishnets. Fuck.

The boy went back to talking to his friends, glancing over every now and then.

Chris held out a small glass; a shot; and grinned. Phil must have missed him ordering it while looking at the guy. “Take this, fucker, and go over there or I will.”

Phil rolled his eyes, tossing it back and setting down the glass. “Wish me luck,” he muttered, clearing his throat and scrunching his nose. “Fuck, that’s strong.”

He stepped down from the stool, straightening his leather jacket and cracking his neck; and he walked over to the boy, who was still talking to two friends.

He cleared his throat when he reached them, and the guy looked over, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Phil asked, rather loudly so as to be heard over the loud music in the bar.

“Dan,” the boy said back, leaning forward, nodding. “You?”

“Phil,” Phil replied, grinning. “And I just came over here to tell you that if you look at me like that one more time, I can’t promise I’ll control myself.”

Dan raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “And what does that mean?” He asked slowly. Phil shrugged.

“If you want bruises all over you by tomorrow, I suggest you try and find out,” he answered, his voice low, and turned around, walking back to Chris.

“How’d it go?” He asked, tilting his head. Phil smirked.

“You’ll see,” he said calmly, taking another sip of his drink.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Dan walked over to them, swaying slightly. He leaned on Phil, resting his head on his shoulder and pouting.

“I’ve been here all night, and I haven’t found anyone to take me home yet,” he whined, looking up at him with wide eyes. He hopped up on Phil’s lap, and Phil sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yeah, okay, we’re going to my place,” he growled, grabbing tightly to Dan’s waist and making him squeak. “Chris, get a ride.”

Chris just shrugged. “Yeah yeah. Have fun, you two. Be safe, use condoms.” Phil smacked him over the head, and Dan giggled.

So that’s how Phil found himself swaying up to his apartment door, a giggly Dan clinging to him like a monkey. A tipsy monkey.

Phil slammed him against the door, attaching his lips to Dan’s. His tongue slipped into Dan’s mouth when Dan’s lips parted, and Dan moaned into the kiss, smiling.

Phil’s hands were everywhere once the door was unlocked, roaming Dan’s body almost desperately. They only made it to the kitchen counter before Phil was pulling his shirt off over his head roughly, doing the same to his own.

He worked at Dan’s throat, his hands searching blindly for the zipper of his skirt. Dan whimpered, leading his hands to it, and Phil got it off in a matter of seconds.

Then came the tricky part; the fishnets. Phil growled, shaking his head and tearing them apart completely, tossing them aside to get to the part he really cared about.

Dan gasped sharply, clinging to Phil’s shoulders. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “I would normally be mad, but fuck that was hot. Christ.” He tugged at Phil’s belt, pulling it off and fumbling with his zipper.

Phil chuckled, letting Dan work, his breath brushing over his ear. He pulled off Dan’s panties, groaning when Dan automatically grinded against him.

“Fuck me,” Phil breathed, his voice heavy. “Oh Christ, fuck me Phil.”

Phil hummed, chuckling and digging his nails into Dan’s thighs, pushing him back on the counter. “I was planning on it.”

Phil muttered a ‘be right back’ and hurried off to get lube and a condom, in only his boxers, and when he got back Dan was already stretching himself with two fingers inside himself. He looked up, grinning and letting out a soft whine.

“I’d rather it was you,” he said softly, throwing his head back, and Phil was done being nice.

He climbed on top of the counter, pulling Dan’s hand away from himself and straddling him, tugging his boxers down. He kissed him, hotly and open mouthed, and Dan whined into his mouth.

In only a matter of seconds Phil was ready and pushing against Dan’s entrance, making him gasp and throw his head back.

“Fuck,” he breathed as Phil pushed in, moaning softly and biting his lip. “Fuck, more.”

Phil moved slightly, shifting their position and pulling Dan’s hips up so he could get a better angle. He bottomed out, thrusting slowly and watching Dan’s face. Dan was practically desperate, pushing himself back on Phil’s cock and whining.

Phil couldn’t help it; he wrapped his hand around Dan’s throat, pinning him down. “Want more? Huh?” He growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Dan’s eyes widened and he nodded slightly, a high pitched whimper leaving his lips. “Yes, please,” he said weakly.

Phil rolled his hips, fucking into him at a faster but still teasing rhythm.

Dan moaned loudly, his eyes falling shut, and Phil sped up. He couldn’t help it, Dan looked so fucking good like that, desperate, being used. Soon he was pounding into him without mercy, and Dan was letting out incredibly sexy noises.

Phil wrapped his hand around Dan’s cock, jerking him off in time with his thrusts, and Dan was gone. He practically screamed, letting go on his stomach, his cock twitching.

Phil groaned, leaning over to kiss at Dan’s neck, feeling himself get close as well. Dan’s weak whimper, his voice breaking, is what sent him over the edge.

Phil got down from the counter, breathing heavily, discarding the condom and running his fingers through his sweaty hair.

He leaned over Dan, looking down at the exhausted and fucked out boy. Dan frowned.

“I’m guessing you’re gonna ask me to leave now, huh…?” He asked, sounding a little sad. Phil smiled, and shook his head.

“Actually, I was gonna ask if you wanted to stay the night. And if you liked Chinese food.”

Vive el Momento (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Requested: No, but @illuminateshawn and I live for drunk, festival Mendes in that red shirt from Amsterdam.

Word count: 4,947

“Can I have three large beers, thanks” I smiled, handing the girl in front of me my money. The sun was burning into my back, heating up my entire body slowly.

“I just love this weather” my friend Julia said. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back to fully enjoy the warm rays of sun burning in her face.

“Me too” I agreed, looking around the festival filled with drunk people having fun everywhere.

To me, this was what summer was all about; heat, friends, music and beers. Actually, going to festivals was my happy place, I loved the whole idea of just letting go and enjoy yourself as much as possible; meeting new people and staying up until the early hours when the sun rose again.

“Girl, don’t look now but that guy… he’s looking again” Julia laughed, taking of her black sunglasses.

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anonymous asked:

53 andreil for the prompt thingy???

53: “Darling, stop.” 

They’re in the chilly fluorescent produce section, Neil steering the cart and Andrew catching it whenever he finds chocolate-covered berries or cartons of blended sugary juice to add to the pile. Neil’s got his old jersey conspicuously clashing with their new team’s red sweats, a dark bandana twisted up in his hair. It’s almost closing, and everything feels a bit cool and loose like no one’s really supposed to be awake.

When Neil’s busy bagging carrots Andrew gets his arms folded over the handle of the shopping cart, this stupid black t-shirt all stretched out at the neck, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, mouth flat. Neil’s sort of fond of Andrew wearing his glasses in public, and he finds himself walking backwards in front of the cart as it’s pushed, openly watching him. Andrew picks the pace up just enough to bump heavily into his shins.

Neil smiles, looping his fingers through his end of the cart so they each have a side, rolling lopsidedly towards the opening of an aisle.

“Stop making things difficult.”

“Let me drive the cart.”

Andrew regards him, fair eyebrows raised. “You’re a control freak.”

Neil laughs, startled. “You let three people total drive your car. You wouldn’t even let Sir or King in our bed for the first three months we had them. You bartered for my secrets when we met, Andrew. ”

“And?” Andrew asks, examining a box of cake mix.

“I don’t think you should be talking about controlling personalities.”

Andrew ignores him, tossing the box in the cart and pushing it back towards Neil. “Go get your diet plan shit.”

Neil makes a face. “It’s our diet plan.”

“I am not willfully drinking skimmed milk.” Andrew crosses to the bags of jumbo marshmallows and Neil pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll put it in your hot chocolate.”

“You’ll die,” Andrew says simply.

Neil jostles the cart into Andrew’s side, and he drops the marshmallows back on the shelf, unimpressed. “Meet me at the front in five. I’m getting actual food to sustain actual people.”

Andrew shrugs and turns to wander out of the aisle, dragging the cart the wrong way behind him.

Neil coughs so he doesn’t laugh, senselessly thrilled. He jogs back towards the meat section, threading through coolers and displays until he finds the turkey bacon and lean chicken breasts that they live on. He’s frowning at an especially lifeless beige cut of fish when he’s wrenched around by the arm.

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the blue notebooks

time travel au

pairing: jimin | reader
genre: fluff, angst
word count: 8.575
warnings: none
author’s note: this story will have a sequel since there is much, much more I want to tell, but I wanted to keep it under 10k and I figured this part worked well as a standalone. please enjoy :)


You meet Park Jimin after a particularly rough landing.

You wish time traveling was as easy as the books like to describe, or as beautifully romantic as the movies depict. It is a concept that’s been overly embroidered with advantages that do not exist — and even if normal humans see it as a fortuitous skill, one they long to have, they rarely realize that having a normal life is out of the question for your kind. Even so, there is no point in wishing for something that won’t happen in this lifetime, not with the time traveling genes burning strong within your veins.

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It’s You That I Hold Onto (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Originally posted by sweetly87

✩ prompt: a lovely anon message a few posts back :) includes a jelly reader and an overprotective thunderbird

✩ word count: a fair amount idk man

✩ warnings: so sweet u could possibly get a toothache :(

It’s You That I Hold Onto

It’s a typical Saturday evening in the Goldstein residence (plus a few), Queenie and Jacob waltzing to sleepy crackling records, dappled golden mid-winter light on the wallpaper, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. 

Everything seems perfect to Y/N as she makes her way to the living room, her brilliant crimson skirt swishing rather gracefully about her waist, her hair (for once!) cooperating falling over her shoulders smoothly.

Queenie smiles at her, elegantly breaking away from Jacob to switch which record is playing, new music erupting from the golden phonograph.

“Would ya’ care to dance?” Jacob asks, giving her a rather sloppy grin and holding out his hand.

Y/N nods gleefully, enjoying the time with one of her best friends as the stout man spins her about the room, Queenie clapping to the music.

Newt’s eyes flick to the duo dancing gleefully through the living room, his gaze caught on the pretty woman in his arms. How that skirt shows off her hips-

He looks away immediately, blushing and mentally kicking himself for being “an absolute bloody creep.”

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anonymous asked:

Au where petunia is a witch and lily is a muggle?

When the letter arrives, Lily is almost as excited as Petunia. She writes Albus Dumbledore to ask if she can go to, and if she cries a little when the answer comes back no she doesn’t tell anyone. Lily waves from the train platform, writes diligently, and listens with excitement whenever her big sister deigns to share stories of magic.

Petunia gets Sorted Slytherin, where she falls into a mutually-venemous friendship with Severus Snape, who she had considered dirty and poor when he was skulking around Lily in their little neighborhood, lighting leaves on fire like a baby arsonist, but who now seems like the best ally in a pool of ugly little fish.

The blood-purists are their normal asshole selves, which Petunia responds to with busybody eavesdropping, cruel gossip, and manipulative emotional bullying. Severus calls her mudblood in their fifth year (it’s not the first time) and joins the Death Eaters. Tuney calls him a greasy git of a wanker and they still have lunch away from prying eyes now and then.

When the war comes, Petunia does not fight in it. She marries a Hufflepuff boy named Vincent Dunsley who spends their entire first date telling her about his junior position in the Ministry and his planned thirty-six bureaucratic steps to the top of the food chain. Vincent has no problem with Muggleborns, or at least not ones who behave as properly as Petunia.

Lily does fight. She’s been reading the Daily Prophet for years as she sits through history class dreaming of brooms and punching bullies on the playground. At seventeen, she writes Albus Dumbledore again. When he still writes back no, she packs a bag and shows up on the Order’s doorstep.

Alice Longbottom gives her a place to stay, some spare robes, and teaches her how to fly– Lily hopes, wrapped in a warm blanket while they sip cocoa and discuss action plans, that if she’d gone to Hogwarts she’d have been good enough to get Sorted Hufflepuff. Frank beams at his wife in the dim yellow light.

Of the Marauders, Lily meets Sirius first– shaggy hair and strong bones, he’s a tall glass of water and he’s anxiously watching a skinny, scarred boy sleep on the sofa. They’re an hour off a mission and Remus crashed as soon as they got back to headquarters. The first thing Sirius Black, troublemaker and risktaker, says to her is “Shh! You walk like an elephant.”

She’d snap back, but Remus does look that worn down, curled on the cushions.

Peter and James are in the kitchen, shoveling sandwiches down their gullets that are the size of their heads. James staggers to his feet when she comes in. “Hi. Uh, new recruit?”

“Something like that.”

James shoves his hair out of his eyes with one hand and thrusts the other one out in her direction. “James Potter,” he says. “Beauxbatons? I don’t think I ever saw you at Hogwarts.”

She grins. “Lily Evans,” she says. “Cokeworth. And I’d shake your hand, but you’ve got mustard on it.”

Lily defies the Dark Lord and his forces three times, with James’s wand at her back, with Remus’s and Sirius’s and Peter’s. They tell her about Hogwarts and its secrets, and she brings them Muggle candy bars and the boxes of X-Men comic books from under her bed. No one gets chocolate smudges on her pages, under threat of James’s disappointed-in-you face, which he’s been practicing.

Severus Snape hears about a Muggle Evans on the warfront. “Petunia’s not a Muggle,” he snaps when Dolohov mocks him for it, but Crabbe cradles his broken arm and keeps talking– about green eyes, red hair like a war banner– and Severus’s stomach sinks low in his gut, cold and aching.

Severus Snape overhears a prophecy and he tells it to his Lord. Lily Evans Potter is the mother of a halfblood boy with a mess of dark hair. Lily is in Augusta Longbottom’s living room, playing peekaboo with Harry and Neville, because Alice and Frank are already in St. Mungo’s, because she does not know that she is soon to be not a soldier but a fugitive. Her child has no scars, yet.

On Halloween night 1981, Tom Riddle goes to the Godric’s Hollow home that Peter Pettigrew betrayed. He kills James in the front room, wand in hand. He kills Lily in the nursery, after giving her a chance to step aside. He tries to kill Harry, but he fails.

Harry goes to his closest living relatives– his aunt Petunia, uncle Vincent, and cousin Dudley. He sleeps in a little room just off the kitchen, which he thinks used to be a broom closet. They hate the attention he brings when he’s dragged behind his aunt at the grocery store, so they leave Harry home when they go to Diagon Alley, Ministry potlucks, or the evening shows that Dudley fusses through, fists full of pumpkin pasties.

Harry knows how to wash dishes by hand, how to cook bacon without burning it (most mornings), and how to capture the spiders in the broom closet and escort them carefully outside. For his birthday Dudley gets a toy broom. For his, Harry gets an Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card because Dudley already has fifteen and didn’t want that one. Petunia likes to peer over the hedge into the yard of Mrs. Figg, the squib who lives next door, and snigger about how she has to do her laundry without magic.

When Harry is ten years old, his Hogwarts letter comes in the mail and the Dunsleys are surprised. “I wasn’t sure,” Petunia sniffs. “I mean, with my sister’s blood in you and everything, anything could have happened.”

4

The Haikyuu stage play got me obsessed with Datekou again, man I really wanna watch the whole thing ;v; Anyway here’s a doodledump of the iron children, they need more appreciation

Context under the read-more:

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You know? I didn’t realize until my sister read the books that Wymack must’ve carried Neil up to his apartment.

Do not imagine Wymack, his face a thundercloud, opening the passenger door and easing Neil out with the gentlest hands, the duffel slung over his shoulder and Neil’s face tucked into the crook of his neck.

Even passed out, Neil is hissing in pain and trying to curl in on himself for protection.

Do not imagine Wymack whispering reassurances in his gruff voice: “it’s ok Neil, it’s just me, it’s Wymack, you’re safe, you’re with me, I got you.”

He doesn’t know if it’s helping, but Neil quiets down and lets him carry him inside.

Do not imagine how small Neil must look, like a broken child, in Wymack’s arms, those same arms that have pulled his Foxes together and held them steady over and over, and will continue to do so as long as they need him.

Wymack’s heart is shaking with barely restrained fury but his hands are careful as he lays Neil out on his couch, cradling the back of his head as he sets him down.

perspective

this is for @ivory-leigh with special thanks to @onemuseleft for her help with the idea

i super didn’t mean to write this tonight but the idea was SO GOOD and i’ve really been jonesing to write

In the weeks following what they’re calling The Battle of New York, Bruce settles into the Tower with an incredible ease.

The floor Tony designed for him is shockingly well-suited to his tastes and needs considering how Tony likes to claim he’s not a team-player. Bruce suspects each floor is equally well-designed and perhaps that’s why they’re all able to slip into a routine so quickly.

It feels like something missing has slotted into place and Bruce can tell just by looking at the others’ faintly bewildered expressions when they look around at the space they share that they feel the same.

Still, Bruce never looks toward Harlem.

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boys of summer

”You know body positivity?” Magnus asks, drumming his fingers against his thigh.

”Isn’t it like, the celebration of all kinds of bodies?” Mahdi says with a mouth full of waffles.

“You want us to celebrate your body?” Isak smirks, leaning back on his chair.

“You’ve got great arms, Mags,” Jonas nods.

“Aww, thanks bro, you too,” Magnus reaches out his hand to squeeze Jonas’s arm. “No but what I mean is, I see Vilde look at these body positivity accounts on insta, right. These chicks posing in their underwear and shit, you know the stuff?”

“I’ve been over accounts of chicks in their underwear for a while now,” Isak sucks in an exaggerated breath. “But do continue.”

“So, I see her look at these pics, right, and from the way she talks about them, I get the feeling that she wants to try it out but is too afraid to do it, you know?”

“You mean post a body positivity pic?” Jonas asks, receiving a nod from Magnus. “It does take a lot of guts to put your body out there for everyone to criticize.”

“Yeah man, especially for chicks, they get so much hate online,” Mahdi chimes in.

“Yeah, I can see that, so I wanna do something to encourage her, to show her that I support her, which got me thinking, maybe I should do it first?”

“Ojjj, are you leaking your nudes,” Isak cocks his head.

“I was thinking of, I don’t know, posting a shirtless pic or something. Do you think that’d be weird?”

“Why would it be weird to want to support the person you love?” Isak asks, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes gone.

“Yeah bro, nothing wrong with that. Think how many shirtless pics that guy William probably takes per day just to support his ego.”

“You heard the man,” Jonas says. “Just do it, straight up.”

“Thanks dudes,” Magnus beams, taking off his shirt. “So, who’s gonna take the pic?”

“You wanna take the pic now? At school? The fuck?”

“I just told you? I wanna show my girl that I support her as soon as possible.”

“Jesus Mags,” Isak shakes his head and holds out his hand. “Give me your phone and strike a pose.”

“Wait, I’ve got a better idea,” Jonas grins and abruptly springs up from his chair before clapping his hands. “Mahdi, finish your waffle, boys, take off your shirts, it’s summer, we’re taking a pic.”

“We are?” Magnus cups his cheeks in excitement. “How should we stand?”

“Isak can be in the back row since he’s got the ugliest face,” Mahdi shoots.

“For your information, I’ve got the best legs so I’m gonna show them off in the front row,” Isak says, throwing his leg on the table.

“But wait, Isak, before we take the pic,” Magnus says, eyes widening, “can you get Even to come here?”

“Get your own fucking boyfriend.”