i just wanted to do the subjects

anonymous asked:

Hi mister I just wanted your view of a quote I once heard "the weakest women say I can't do anything for my self I need someone to do it for me I give up I don't want to the women in the middle say I can do it myself I'm a strong independent woman and refuses to get help but the strongest women know they can do it themselves it's just a lot more fun when someone else dose it" I can't remember where I heard it but it seems to be at least kind of true for Me at least

This is a subject thats close to my heart.

…and it’s also one that when I speak upon, would make some of the old guard BDSM Dom’s quite upset

Anyone can bark out an order or be tyrannical in their doings with people that they believe are beneath them. But the fact of the matter is that the submissive is not weak at all… I would even venture to argue that she is the strongest of the couple.

To hand over your control and power to someone and kneel to them willingly takes the most strength of all.

This is why you often hear me say that your submission is a gift and not his right or privilege.

The most superior strength is not in ones muscles.

The voice deserving of respect does not have to be the loudest.

The one who is truly in control, is often the one who is looking up.

[Please do not repost]

A small Emil just passing through.

I’m going to be offline until later on Saturday, because I want to focus on studying for a while, as well as get some stuff done outside, so I won’t be on the computer much in general. 

[Length of break subject to change if my sister decides she needs a babysitter and/or if my weekend plans pan out.]

anonymous asked:

Hi, so, figured I'd be more descriptive, lol. Do you know any good fic recs that are several chapters long, well-written, are dark, and focus on what the Winter Soldier went through at the hands of HYDRA? I'm looking for angst, with a bit of hurt/comfort thrown in. Really I'm just a masochist, and want my freaking heart ripped out, stomped on, then given hope only to be squished again. Happy endings are awesome, but not needed. Also looking 4 a complete fic or something that's updated regularly

Absolutely! Come join me in Suffering

Chyetirye by SkyisGray

Even the strongest personalities, when subjected to great physical, emotional, and sexual abuses, can splinter, or dissociate.

Bucky Barnes lives a nightmare after falling from a train and being recovered by Hydra. His mind deals with the trauma by splintering into the soldier, the prisoner, the patriot, and the assassin.

Years later, they team up to save Steve Rogers.

How They Make You a Weapon - the comic by monicawoe (also read the fic itself, both are wonderful)

written for the prompt
“Lovingly detailed dark!fic about the process by which Hydra turned Bucky into the Winter Soldier.”

there must have been a moment where we could have said no bymagdaliny 

he Soldier remembers this: he wakes up in the snow.

anonymous asked:

Today I feel proud because I didn't go to a class I really didn't want to go to, despite how much my mother kept insisting. The teacher is an exhausting prick and, to be honest, I learnt this subject better on my own, but my mother still goes on and on about how I should go, "make sure I don't miss anything". Ugh. I'm glad I didn't give up today, as usually I do, just so she'd stop

You gotta do what’s good for you.

simsomedia  asked:

Day 4: Kickass Hero/Heroine | Okay, I'm sure Zdina would kick my ass for calling them a hero or heroine, so I'm not calling them a hero or heroine but I'm just saying they are super kickass. Now I'm going to leave out the same side door I came in before Zdina gets word of this and attempts to kick my behind. Their heels look like they hurt.

HAHAHA this is SO funny to me. I guess they are kickass. The hero part is subjective, right? :) I wanted to do one of those cute “Zdina replies” with them saying something cocky. Maybe that’s how I’ll start replying to all my Zdina-centered asks from now on. I need to break into their repertoire of emotions and let you know EXACTLY how they would feel about you saying that ♥ Thank you for thinking of us :D

Okay so. This has been weighing on me and I just want to say this.

As a white person, I say this. The rest of you white people, just SHUT UP. I don’t care if you’re the nicest person on the planet. It’s not about you. You don’t get to cry about poc’s being done with our ( and yeah, I’m using it as a collective whole ) shit. Because guess what. We ( white people ) lump them into categories and claim we don’t do it. We do. We don’t think about what it does until someone does it to us. Shut up; drink your well deserved medicine and stop being an asshole.

Shut up. Support your poc writers on your dash. Stop being an asshole because someone called you out on your shit.

Poc writers, if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask because I will try to help you move mountains if need be.

Always,
Puff.

i hate when straight women w short haircuts come into my salon and start joking about having a lesbian haircut/requesting short hair that “doesn’t make them look like a lesbian LOL”

today a straight woman sat down and showed me the picture of the haircut she wanted and she was like “i showed this picture to my husband and he was like ‘wow are you gonna get a girlfriend now’ haha. i love him he’s so ridiculous”

i never know what to say. it feels weird, because i know they say these things to me under the assumption that i’m straight. i don’t know how i’m supposed to respond. “oh don’t worry, you definitely don’t look like a lesbian!” or “omg don’t worry i won’t give you a LESBIAN looking haircut haha”

i can’t just out myself and play along. i do everything in my power to prevent outing myself to any of my clients.

and it feels like some cruel joke is being played on me, like this is straight humor that women laugh about behind our backs. i mean i know it is. it’s just weird being a part of it. i don’t know how to ask straight women to stop joking about butch lesbian haircuts while they’re in my chair. i don’t know what to do when straight women laugh about looking like a lesbian, i don’t really know how to take that, like if it’s a joke at the expense women like me or just harmless commentary. i don’t know what to say, and i can’t bring myself to laugh along with them.

it’s not a subject i want to talk about. i know that makes me sensitive, but i’ve been through a lot of very traumatic experiences because i’m gay. it’s humiliating to perform a service for straight women who seem to think there’s something funny about people daring to think they might be gay

The night starts with a big, spicy Philly cheese steak. It’s about 6pm. I’ve been wanting to try the cheese steak from this corny, 50’s retro place for a long time. I gobble down the big greasy bowl of meat, hot sauce, and cheese, then head to the coffee shop for my weekly draw group. A little after I get home, about 10pm, a stomach ache comes on. “Damn, guess spicy foods are out.” I’ve been getting stomach aches every time I have spicy Thai or hot wings. I google search about spice pain- possible stomach ulcer? “I guess I have been stressed lately, but no more than usual I don’t think…” File under “Will investigate further later.“ According to the comments on this health website, a glass of milk will help. Gulp one down, go to bed.

Wrestle to sleep for about an hour. Realize the ache is just over the required pain threshold to keep you from sleeping. Do some work on my comic, more tired, but stomach worse. Will play batman until I fall asleep. I feel like I’m just running in circles… How many times have I failed this mission? Batman, batman, stomach now hurts too bad to enjoy an active task like video games. Deliriously tired. Would be great to sleep through the rest of this abdominal temper tantrum. Try the old “hot shower will make you sleep” trick. Take some Pepto-Bismol, and some generic acetaminophen. Out of the shower, hurts to walk around now, and to lie down. Guess I’ll have to wait it out with my eyes open. Call and leave my Doc a message, maybe will get a spot in there tomorrow. Need to get that ulcer discovered… Time to enjoy a passive task like watching TV. Breaking Bad feels like the right mixture of funny and painful, just like me and my burning spice belly. Damn, I can’t even enjoy that part where during Hank’s interrogation of that meth head, Wendy, she accuses Hank of trying to buy sexual services from her on behalf of an underage “football player” (a misunderstanding involving Walter Jr. from a few episodes before). Oh hell. Time to look up what time emergency medical clinics open. Guess I’ll have to pay out of pocket since I can’t wait for my Doc tomorrow.  It’s about 4am now. Earliest clinic opens at 8. Now hungry again, but can’t eat what with all the pain. One hour down. Man, this is really starting to hurt. Can I really wait 3 more hours? Sitting is starting to hurt as much as lying and standing. And I’m still not enjoying TV. Okay, I’ve come to a decision…. 

“Hey, Kayla, my stomach still hurts, I’m thinking about driving to the ER, do you wanna come?” “Oh! Ya, sure. What time is it?” “It’s 5:30”. I  call the hospital “Hey, I’ve had a pretty bad stomach ache all night, I’m thinking of coming by.” Operator: *long pause* “Haha, well, okay! We’re open all night, so just come on in.” 

Driving with a stomach ache is not so bad, because you’re already hunched over. Wish Kayla could drive, but she doesn’t really know how, probably would have a panic attack and would definitely crash. Interesting that they have ER parking, I wonder how many ER patients drive themselves here… All bodily positions hurt my insides now, signing in to this place sucks. Give Kayla half the paperwork to fill out, glad she’s here, or this would be really boring. Man, they sure take a long time for someone trying to get into an empty emergency room… Signing in with a nurse, she ask me my height and I say “ ‘5’’8”, but I notice she puts down “ ‘5’’7”… They want to look at my pee, they always want to see my pee. I pee, no blood, so whatever that tells them means I’m getting an ultrasound first. Then a young nurse named Ken, a cool Asian dude with screws through both ears, squirts so much morphine into my IV that I lean back and audibly say “oh my god.” I feel it ripple like a shock wave from my arm down to the ends of my body. My belly is feeling alright now. 

The ultrasound technician tells me that babies are the least common thing she uses ultrasounds for. My joke has fallen flat. Back in the room, the doctor and his manila folder tell me “Good news! No gallstones, there are kidney stones inside your kidneys, but since they are inside, you shouldn’t be feeling the pain from those.” “Wait, does that mean I have to pee those stones out at some poin–” It is not discussed again. Seeing that neither organ has the appropriate stones, Doc would “rather not expose me to more radiation than necessary” and is working on discharging me. But, “I won’t leave here without a diagnosis.” 

In I go to the CT scan tube. That hot squish of contrast dye spreading through my veins. “Okay, we’re moving you into a room upstairs.” Says a hippy technician. Upstairs in my sweet and swanky single with couch, a person I’m pretty sure is just a businessman disguised in medical scrubs types on a computer. He takes down my answers to what seem like pre-surgery questions. “Do you have anybody specific on file in the event you are medically unable to yield consent  for yourself?” This, combined fact that they won’t feed me, makes me wonder what it is I’m going into surgery for. I saw this same thing about a year and a half ago with the whole brain debacle, but that’s a story for another time. Several medical people dip in, sprinkle breadcrumbs of information; it’s like a game show challenge that combines a scavenger hunt with a jigsaw puzzle. You have to gather the pieces of information from their hiding places, then assemble them in the correct order to reveal an answer. A tech comes in and spoils the game, “You seem to have a lot of questions, so I just want to make sure, you know you have appendicitis right? We’re about to take it out.” “Thank god,” I think. “It’s not the spicy foods. Spicy foods are still in.” Downstairs, in pre-op, I complain to my plain-clothes surgeon about how analog tests like pressing on my stomach are remarkably inaccurate, since a doctor’s subjective interpretation of my poor description of say, “the pain is slightly higher” can rule out appendicitis, the same appendicitis that a machine might spot an hour later. I tell him that I almost got sent home. My surgeon tells me he’s been doing analogue tests for 30 years, and not to worry about it. I start to tell him how “my deadpan reaction to pain also causes a lot of people to misdiagnose me, that a lot of people laugh when I describe how I’m in pai–”, but he walks away in the middle to get dressed for surgery. The operating room has big TVs and lights, it looks like a set, and I consider the possibility of fake hospitals as the anesthesia takes the wheel.

In the recovery area, the nurse tells me how big, inflamed appendixes can be agitated by spicy foods, foods high in fat, and dense foods like heavy cheese. I see an image of a spotlit cheese steak appear in a black void. Nurse feeds me ice chips and tells me she craves ice chips when she’s dehydrated. I suggest that she only craves ice chips because she works in a hospital, that ice chips are too unsatisfying a thing to crave at random, and that most people would just crave water. She agrees. Back upstairs in my room, it is now 8pm, and it has been 26 hours since I’ve eaten. I’ve been hydrated only through IV’s. The driest mouth and the clearest pee. Because the lingering anesthetic can cause nausea and vomiting, they will only give me jello. I go nuts on the jello. They continue to give me every jello I ask for, one at a time, like a test. Way past where I though the cutoff point would be, the nurse tells me “That’s it! There’s no more jello! You ate all the jello on this floor.” You’re damn right I did, you’re damn right….

Witchcraft Authors to Avoid

None. And I’ll tell you why.

I know, I know. I’m a horrible person. How could I possibly agree with all of these horrible authors? But here’s the thing: You don’t have to–and shouldn’t–agree with an author 100% just because you read them. 

Instead of telling beginner witches not to read books or presses, I think we should tell them to read A LOT of source material instead, and read with a critical eye. Here are some things to look out for:

Pay attention to when it was published. Yes, I know Scott Cunningham’s info is old and not often followed anymore. And in ten years, my information will be outdated, and so will yours. Witchcraft trends change. Yarrow and rue used to be very popular beginner plants, because they are commonly found in many areas of North America. Nowadays, it’s more popular to use kitchen spices such as cinnamon and rosemary, and therefore these two herbs became outdated and are no longer used for what they were originally used for. This is something to keep in mind when reading a book from 1988.

(As a side note, different witches use different techniques and materials. I use bloodstone to connect with ancestors; I’ve never seen any other death witch do that. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, it means I do things differently.)

Whenever you read a work, read critiques on it as well. Triumph of the Moon is well-written, and has a lot of acclaim! But it also has a lot of backlash–cultures the author glossed over, historical inaccuracies, biased claims, and the like. Read up on these critiques, even summaries. Hell, the amazon comments section and wikipedia articles even have some necessary critiques. I know tumblr can be an echo-chamber sometimes, but when you’re studying witchcraft, you shouldn’t remain in an echo-chamber. Read other sources. You’ll decide which one to agree with. 

Research the author. How you approach the work depends on how trustworthy the author is. If people have problems with them–if they’re historically inaccurate, or disregard other cultures–keep that in mind while you read. You don’t have to completely avoid an author just because they’re inconsiderate about some things, especially if that work is historically significant. I know Gerald Gardner was iffy at best, but I still recommend reading Witchcraft Today if you’re studying Wicca, because that book was a HUGE influence on modern day.

Don’t avoid a press entirely. I see a lot of people shitting on Llewellyn Worldwide. If you don’t know, that’s one of the biggest Pagan/Witchcraft publishing presses in the world, and they’ve been around for a long time. For those who aren’t familiar with how publishing works, there are two things to know about presses. (1) It is not the press’s job to fact-check people for inaccuracies; it’s the author’s. Especially in big presses, editors and curators are there to make sure the book is readable and sells. That’s it. (2) Presses often like to change their footprint. This means that they like to publish things that haven’t been published before, or, if their last book got shit on by the community, they’ll want to find an author who’s better. Hence, the quality of authorship varies in a press. So there’s no need to flat-out avoid presses.

Read with an open mind. These books are here for us to learn. They’re even here for us to learn what NOT to do, or what we don’t want as a witch. You should be disagreeing. You should be questioning. You should be asking other peoples’ opinions on the subject. Because at the end of the day, your craft is your own, and you want to make it as uniquely “you” as possible. 

To clarify, I’m not here to disregard anyone’s opinions of certain works. It is my opinion that people should form their own opinions of works, and learn from them. Especially beginners.

Thanks for your time. Have a good one ♡^▽^♡

Not So Picture Perfect || Kian Lawley Imagine (Requested)

“Literally all I want to do is go home. I really don’t want to be here,” I told Callie as I worked on the gym elliptical.

“What, why? You love the gym. What’s wrong?”

“Kian flies out with Jc and Dom today for the second half of the tour and won’t be back for 3 weeks.”

“Okay, I know you love him, but it’s only 3 ½ weeks. They will fly by, especially with Maya’s birthday party and Ricky’s “I Hit One Million” Bash.”

Even though I hate to admit it, she was right. It’s just 3 lousy weeks and with the technology we have today, it will be like he never left. 

“Fuck, you’re right. Did you know I hate that about you?”

“Yeah and I love you too, beyotch. Call me later, okay?”

“Alright, bye.”

I finished my 90 minute workout and headed home to see Kian for the last few hours. I grabbed my gym bag and unlocked the door to see Kian’s suitcases against the wall. I let out a sigh and called out to him.

“I’ll be there in a sec!” he yelled back. When he came into my view, I saw that he was on the phone.

“Yeah, Dude. I’ll be there in about an hour. Okay. Bye”

I gave him a confused look,”I thought your flight was at 10 tonight.”

“It was, but there was a screw up with the airline and our flight is 4:40 now.” I looked at the clock behind him and it read 1:27 pm.

“So that means you have to leave now,” I said defeated.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Baby.”

“No it’s fine, it’s not your fault. Did you need me to drive you?”

“I don’t need you to, but I definitely want you to,” he said as he embraced me. 

I helped him load his bags into the car and hopped in. I couldn’t help but think that i wouldn’t have moments like this for 3 fucking weeks. I hated it, but Kian loves his fans and would do anything for them. I would never stand between that.

After what seemed like the shortest ride in history, we pulled up to his terminal. Jc and Dom were already out there waiting for us and I helped unload Kian’s things. We stood there for what felt like forever, just holding each other.

“Ugh, ew! Come on already, Vitaly’s inside!” JC whined beside us. Kian and I decided to gross him out even more and started tongue battling each other.

“God! Didn’t you guys do enough of that before he left?!” asked Dom.

“We actually didn’t,” I said to Kian, looking kind of amused. 

“Well this is going to be one uncomfortable flight,” he joked.

“Speaking of flight, we gotta catch ours!” JC said.

“Fuuuck, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know, but I’ll be back soon, okay.”

“Okay, have fun.”

“I will, I’ll call you when we land,” he said running into the airport.

“I’ll be waiting,” I said to myself.

When I arrived back to our place I was finally able to take a well needed shower. When I was done, I ordered food off of Postmates and caught up on ‘Are You The One?’ I really hated being here without Kian, but I had to remind myself that I did it during the first half and was (somewhat) fine.

My phone started to ring and I got excited when I saw that it was Kian calling.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Baby. How are you?”

“Lonely. How was the flight?”

“Pretty good. Some kid threw up though, which made Dom almost throw up.”

“Ew, but kinda awesome, haha.” Our conversation didn’t last long due to the fact that he had a long day tomorrow and it was late where he was.

I decided that it was time for me to go to bed as well and try to not be so bleh.

The next few days were getting easier and easier. Almost two weeks have already passed and Maya’s birthday party was a great distraction. I hear from Kian every night and every night I miss him more. Tonight is Ricky’s bash and I’m really excited. I took me like 4 hours to get ready, but I was almost done. I was applying the last bit of makeup when my phone buzzed. 

I heard Callie come in and we naturally had to capture this moment. 

That night was complete blast. I can’t stress how proud I am of Ricky T for reaching over one million youtube subscribers. Callie and I finally got back to my place and I was about to take a shower when my phone started to ring.

“Hey, I saw your Snap. You look beautiful, how was the party?”

“It was really fun, but tiring. How’s the tour going?”

“It’s good! The fans are amazing, the closer I get to coming home, the more anxious I get to be with you.”

“*Sigh* I can’t wait for you to come back.”

“I know me either, but I’ll let you get some rest and I’ll do the same. Sweet dreams, Babe.”

“You too, Kian. Good night.”

The next few days were quite boring, but Kian comes home in a little over a week and I’m so happy! I had been trying to reach him for the last few hours now, but he wasn’t picking up. I finally gave up on him and tried calling JC, but it was too loud to hold a conversation. My last resort was Vitaly who evidently was asleep and didn’t know anything.

I realized that this was the first night Kian hadn’t called me and I got a sort of uneasy feeling in my stomach. I quickly shook it off and decided to go to bed. 

It was about 7:15 am when I was woken up by the constant vibration of my phone. After about 2 solid minutes, I groggily turn over and check what it is. I see that it is a bunch of Twitter notifications and I decided to open them. I see an assload of pictures of Jc with some random girl wither ass out, but that’s when I see it.

“What the fuck?” I say to myself as I read the tweets. I feel my heart drop as I see my boyfriend cradling another girl’s ass. I immediately decide to call him and of course it goes straight to voicemail. 

Over the course of the next 9 days, I didn’t leave the house. Ricky and Callie came over to keep me company, but I just wanted to be alone. Kian tried calling every 5 minutes, except when he was on stage, but I ignored all of them. Even the rest of the boys were trying to contact me, but I only talked to Vitally since he wasn’t there that night. He tried to get me to talk about it, but knowing that he would relay it all to Kian, I just changed the subject. 

So many people were talking about what happened, even Kian’s ex Andrea. All I could do at this point is cry and look at old photos of Kian and I. 

Kian comes back tomorrow and I had to make a hasty decision. I was in the middle of my thoughts when my phone vibrated over and over again. I thought I shut that fucker off. I go look at it and I see it is the man of the hour once again.

I can’t help but smile a little bit as I cry even harder now. Is it worth letting go? Is it worth staying? Then he said it. 

Those words made my decision so much easier.

Teacher (M)

Plot: Maybe asking your Korean teacher for help wasn’t such a bad idea. Good grades weren’t the only thing you were going to achieve from that.

Pairing: Teacher! Jung Hoseok x Student! reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oral (receiving), Moaning denial, just full-on hardcore Jung Hoseok the sexy beast

Note: This is probably the first time I’m actually posting smut. It took me quite a while to write, considering it was very long, and I need to be in a certain mood for it. Thank you to my friend for giving me this idea. Please forgive me if there are any errors, english isn’t my first language. 3657 Words

P.S. You are 19 in this, and Hoseok is 25. I do not support all that underage sex stuff. Everything here is legal (wrong – please don’t fuck your teacher no matter how hot he is – but legal).

Korean Literature was probably your least favorite subject. You hated just everything about it – well – excluding the teacher. He always greeted you with a smile, asked you if you wanted help. You were the only foreigner in the class, after all. He gave you so much special attention, and you wouldn’t mind it at all. Unfortunately, that didn’t change your view on the subject. No matter how hard you tried, you always got a low grade.

“Okay students, remember we have a test on the new poem this Friday,” His voice echoed through your ears, breaking you out of your trance.

There was a solemn look on your face, while you stared out the window. Your eyes stayed on the uniformed kids flooding out of the school gates, while your nail dug under the staple holding your latest spelling test together.

5 out of 10. It was better than the last one.

No matter how bad it got, you always had this urge to try. You always wanted to keep studying for a higher score, but you just never seemed to understand everything that was thrown at you. It was like everything registered into your brain, but it never stayed – it disappeared, unlike your determination to do well.

As your eyes flickered over to the teacher, a nervous feeling settled in your chest. You now stayed after school for that exact reason. A few days ago, Hoseok had offered to help tutor you for an hour everyday until the test. It had been at least a week since he started, and you could safely say that you were getting better.

“Are you ready to start?” 

“Yeah.”

Keep reading

10

I’m just your problem x skyhooks 

Sorry I don’t treat you like a goddess,
Is that what you want me to do?
Sorry I don’t treat you like you’re perfect,
Like all your little loyal subjects do.
Sorry I’m not made of sugar,
Am I not sweet enough for you?


Marceline being sweet for her princess.

Clueless (M)

A one-shot based on a request from @angustdissin. Hope you like it!

Moodboard

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Roommate! Jungkook, slightly dom! Jungkook, smut and fluff

Word count: 7,469 words

~•~•~•~

You were greeted with the sound of the TV blaring from the living room when you opened the front door of your house. Although he couldn’t see or hear you, it didn’t stop you from letting out a small sigh accompanied with a smile to yourself as you untied your sneakers and put them away neatly on the shoe rack. The thick white socks you wore made your steps quiet.

As you padded into the house, you weren’t surprised to find your roommate sprawled on the floor with his back leaning against the lower half of the couch and his long legs stretched carelessly under the coffee table. He was staring at the show playing on his laptop on the table but you weren’t sure if he was really paying attention to it. At first you opened your mouth to check if he needed a call back to Earth, then you saw the gaggle of men and women sprinting across the screen and gasped.

“JUNGKOOK! How could you?!”

Keep reading

he likes to read

(this wants with all its heart to be a multichapter fic but i need instant gratification sooo)


He likes to read.

He likes to read and Kent likes him, and he really doesn’t know what to do about this fact.

Kent ran into him – well, ran past him, really – on a morning jog, in a usually deserted area of the community park where trees have been planted and are carefully watered to give the appearance of a verdant, lush grove in the middle of sunny, dusty Nevada. He was standing against a tree and reading, and when Kent jogged back to ask what he was doing, the man laughed and pointed to his book. Walden.

Kent’s never read it. The man shrugs. “It’s about a man who gave up his whole life to go live in the woods,” he says. “I used to go to Walden Pond and re-read it once a summer. But now I’m here and, well… this is as close to the woods as I can get.”

His name is James. He’s a high school English teacher. He shakes Kent’s sweaty hand and asks his name, what he does for a living.

Kent blinks at him hard. “You…” he starts. He was about to say, you don’t know?

“Me? You do me?” James cracks a smile. “Is that a pick-up line?”

His smile is sunny, and Kent breaks a little bit inside. He finds himself quickly enough to say, “Would it work?”

Keep reading

physics doesn’t have to suck: how to enjoy and do well in your required physics classes

As someone who doesn’t intend to take a physics class ever again, I was relieved when I walked out of my second semester physics final. That said, physics doesn’t have to suck or drag your average down. 

(1) How to enjoy physics: Adjust your attitude. Physics is so cool if you actually think about it. Your attitude will dictate your experience. (2) But physics is so hard: Change the way you study and don’t give up. I did better in university physics than in high school. The content was way more difficult but it was my studying methods that made the difference.

This post is split into 3 parts: Introductory physics (very basic physics, that unit of physics you had to do in a lower level science class), high school physics (physics from an algebra-based perspective), and university physics (calculus-based physics and labs). (Obviously these overlap a lot but I needed to organize this somehow)

INFO IS UNDER THE CUT B/C THIS POST IS RIDICULOUSLY LONG

Keep reading

“She should cut her nails” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary : The men of the Justice League tease Batman about the scratches on his back, and the love bites on his chest…Bruce is not amused.

Just a silly fic cause why not. Wrote it in literally fifteen minutes because I was bored, and didn’t proofread (as usual really) so it’s quite meh, hope you’ll still like it though :

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

I wrote some sort of part two to this, it’s here if you’re interested : “Bruce…sucks !”

__________________________________________________

Bruce could feel their gaze on his back. He knew they were smiling like idiots behind him, and he heard them giggle a few times, like goddamned teenagers.

He finally turned around to face his fellow Justice League members, that had been staring at him for the past hour. They were in the men shower room of the headquarter, and the fact that they were all half-dressed made them look even more ridiculous, with their idiotic smile on their faces.

Hell, even J’onn was snickering with them ! Bruce would expect from Clark, Oliver, Barry and maybe Arthur to laugh like nitwits, but J’onn ? He thought he was better than this.

And yet, here he was, grinning at the Batman like a moron.

-What ?

Bruce asked a bit coldly, even though he already knew what was going on.

Clark answered, a sly smile on his stupid handsome face :

-We were just wondering…When did you got those scratches on your back ? Like, which villain inflicted you such terrible wounds ?

Bruce rolled his eyes. By now, Barry and Oliver couldn’t hold their laughter, though the look the Bat gave them stopped them cold in their track. Damn that man could be intimidating, even for them…Bruce, glaring at them, went on :

-Are you guys fifteen ?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

writing prompt (if u want) : andrew and neil met before while neil was someone else and broke andrew's heart by leaving/vanishing/faking death/idfk and then neil just shows up like no ?? u are like chris or some name and u r dead what is going on and how dare u

so we’re going to pretend im not the shittiest person ever and didn’t take like a week to write this 2000 word thing but anyways hope u like it :)

—————————————————————————————–

The shock of the exy racquet crashing into Neil’s stomach was secondary to the shock that came from seeing Andrew Spear again.  While his lungs screamed for air, his brain screamed for an escape.  To run.  And never stop running again.

The edges of his vision turned as black as the shirt Andrew wore the first time they’d met those few years ago.  It had been a startlingly warm day, aided by the fact that Nathaniel and his mother had just migrated south again from Montreal.  California was everything and nothing that Nathaniel, no, Chris, had expected.  It was hot, and there was the smell of salt in the air from the Pacific Ocean – that Chris had known would be there.  He hadn’t counted on people being so open.  Maybe that’s why he was so drawn to Andrew, a spot of darkness against the ever sunny sky.  Andrew had never been an easy read.

The first time Andrew spoke to him, it was because he had gotten into a fight with a teacher.  Neil had left the classroom at the end of the day with his head down, hugging his books close to his body.  He didn’t know how long he’d stay here, but the fact that his mother had let him attend school was a good sign that they’d be in California for a while.  Still it wasn’t a good idea to make friends or have ties here.  Nobody should remember his face.

“You know,” Neil had heard him say as he passed a tree on the edge of the school’s property, “For someone who’s trying to keep a low profile you sure do love to get in a fight.”

He turned and came face to face with the blonde.  Andrew hadn’t mastered the look of complete apathy yet and his eyes revealed the tiny spark of interest Neil had put there.

“For someone who’s barely four feet tall you sure do love antagonizing people,” Neil responded.

Keep reading

Please respect Mark Sheppard at conventions

To everyone attending Phoenix con, if you get the chance to ask Mark a question during one of his panels please DO NOT ASK HIM why he left the show or why Crowley was killed off. We don’t know the circumstances behind Mark’s departure from Supernatural and it may be a sensitive subject for him, so please refrain from asking him about it at conventions. Please just thank him for doing an outstanding job playing Crowley for so many years and then move on and ask him about something else. I know everyone wants to know why Mark left the show, but we should be trying to make Mark’s remaining creation conventions as much fun as possible for him, so please try not to ask personal questions about him leaving the show.

I Am Not Peggy

Pairing/Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Peggy Carter (mentioned)

Warnings: Nothing much, swearing, violence, angst

Summary: You are Captain America’s girlfriend and you find that you will always be compared to a certain piece of Steve’s past.
Word Count:
1562
A/N: This was really bad and Steve’s a bit of a dick tbh but I can see where they’re both coming from… this is dedicated to my favourite, the steve to my bucky @sickplanets <3 I am open to do a part two!!!

Originally posted by from-wizards-to-soldiers

Originally posted by ibidyouallaveryfondfarewell

Keep reading