i will never get this paper finished

Nice Girls Finish Last | Chapter 4

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Summary: Everybody talks about nice guys but what about nice girls? What happens after Natalie gets rejected by a guy she likes? 


A/N: IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO FINISH THIS. I had the storyboard planned out a while ago but was never proud of what I wrote so I always deleted. THIS IS A LONG CHAPTER BTW. LIKE REALLYYYYY LONG. I really really hope you guys enjoy this chapter !! Please do give me feedback !!

Word Count: 1326


After giving Noah my number, I realized that I was late to my next class. I grabbed my bag with disheveled papers and rushed to my next lecture. When I entered the room, I quietly chose a random seat and plopped myself down. I took my gudetama (gotta love that egg man) pencil pouch and shuffled through my stationery items to find a pen and some paper. My hand flew across the paper with my black pen, writing down every single information that could be useful to me in the future for exams. The lecture in economics 101 happened to end a few minutes earlier than usual today. Since there was no rush, I organized my papers properly instead of stuffing it into my tattered, leather backpack. As I was putting the last few papers in its proper section in my binder, I heard my phone vibrate on the table. I took a look to find a message from Noah. I didn’t realize it but my lips started to form into a smile. I unlocked my phone and opened my messages. 

“Are u down for lunch at the poke place next to campus???”

My fingers hovered above the keyboard for a bit before I started typing yes on my phone. I sent the message off and immediately got a smiley face from him. I stood up and pushed my chair in. As soon as I got out of the classroom, I slowly started walking towards the poke shop with a little bounce in my feet. I continued to walk there until I noticed a familiar figure from afar. I stopped and stared for a little. Mark was laughing happily and being friendly to another girl as if he didn’t reject me yesterday. I felt a pang in my heart. I know I didn’t have the right to feel this way but my heart couldn’t help it.

I moved along and acted like I didn’t notice him. The last few steps to the poke shop was a lot slower and happened to lost its bounce. When I arrived at the poke shop, Noah’s smile and dimples greeted me as I walked in. I gave him a bright smile back, that disappeared as soon as I sat down.

“Did your order yet?” I asked. He shooked his head with a pout on his face.

“I was hungry but I wanted to wait for you,” he replied. Guilt slowly crept on me.

“I’m sorry for not coming faster,” I said sadly and topped it with a frown. “You’re probably really hungry.” He shooked his head like a little child, causing his black hair to fly in different directions.

“Ahh, its okay,” he reassured. We finally ordered our bowls and went back to our seats as we waited for our names to be called.

“Are you okay? You looked kinda sad when you walked in,” Noah said. I realized I had a frown the whole time and quickly covered it up with a plastic smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine” I replied. Noah shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. He stood up from his chair causing it to make a horrible screeching noise. He walked over and grabbed my wrist. He got our bowls at the pickup area and guided me to his black Lexus. Noah opened the passenger seat for me and waited for me to get in. I was confused but I didn’t question it. He closed the door and quickly walked over to the driver’s side. He got in and started the engine.

“Where are we going?” I asked him.

“On a little adventure,” Noah said as he winked at me (Jihoon? Is dat you??). His car backed out of the parking lot and went down the highway. There wasn’t much traffic so we drove down the road smoothly. He turned on the radio and we sang along to the songs we knew, despite sounding like dying whales (me in the car lol). We drove for awhile and after 2 hours, there were no signs of civilization.

“I know self-defense so don’t try anything funny,” I said. Noah pouted and playfully looked hurt.

“Do you take me as a fuckboy or something?” he chuckled. I laughed along with him and said nothing, remembering my first impression. As we continued to drive, I noticed bright lights from afar. As we got closer, I realized it was from the Ferris wheel and the nightstands. My eyes widened at the sight as excitement fills me.

“Are we going to a fair?” I asked excitedly. Noah nodded and an “mhm” could be heard from him. I rolled down the window and poked my head out to get a better view. I got back in and opened the roof of his car as I poked my head out. My dark brown hair billowed with the wind as I threw my hands up and screamed. It relieved all of the stress I had from university and life in general. I sat in my seat again, now with a smile on my face, and closed the roof to stop cold air from sneaking in. We sat in silence for the next few minutes until we got there.

As soon as Noah parked his car, I busted out the door and immediately sprinted towards the food stands.

“Natalie, wait up!” I heard Noah shouted from afar but that didn’t stop me. Nothing gets in between this girl and her food. I stopped at the hot dog stand and bought myself one. Noah was now behind me, panting from chasing me. I heard him chuckling at the sight of me eating a hot dog. I turned around and glared the boy down. It only made him laugh harder. I frowned at the fact that I wasn’t scary to him and continued eating my hot dog that was drowned in condiments. Noah finally ordered his hot dog and inhaled it the moment he got it. I watched in awe as he ordered another one. 

After exploring the food stands and eating everything they had to offer, we wandered towards the game section. As we were walking, I noticed a cute, light blue whale plush and paused. Noah stopped as well after realizing I wasn’t beside him anymore. He looked in the same direction I was and started laughing when he saw what I was looking at. He walked up to the stand and paid to play. He missed all four of his baseballs and pouted when he reached for a ball to find that he ran out. It was my turn to laugh. Noah bought another set of baseballs to try to redeem himself. On the second shot, he made it into the basket and threw his fist in the air.

“Your welcome,” he said while winking at me. I rolled my eyes as I chuckled silently. The vendor took the plushie off the hook and handed it to me. It was soft and fluffy to the touch. I looked at it for awhile and looked up at Noah then back down at the whale.

“He kinda reminds of you,” I blurted out. Noah smirked.

“Is it because it’s as cute as me?” he said proudly while whipping his nonexistent weave.

“Hmmm, no, it looks just as ugly as you,” I teased as I stuck my tongue out at him and skipped away, giggling. Before I could get away, Noah grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me towards him. We were now barely an inch apart. I could feel his warm breath on my forehead and his heart beating against mine. He used his finger to gently lift my head to face him. I stared into his chocolatey brown eyes as he stared into mine. His eyes shifted to my lips then back to my eyes. He tilted his head and started leaning in. I slowly closed my eyes to embrace what was coming next.

How VICE media’s new platform Broadly STOLE my Caramel Curves project!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Broadly is supposed to be a station that VICE created to empower women. Broadly was allegedly created for women, by women and about women. They proudly boast about how they are feminists and are bringing women together. Don’t let this camouflage fool you like it fooled me. Broadly is a vulture. A soul sucking parasite that can only survive by leaching every ounce of original content from it’s host.
I am a victim that Broadly chose as a host and extracted it’s ideas and original content from. A few months ago I shared with a friend that I wanted to turn my photo project about the Caramel Curves into a doc. This friend started working for Broadly, pitched my idea and in May they asked me if I would make a short doc about the Caramel Curves for them. They explained that it would be a celebration of my photographs and that I would have creative control over almost everything. We discussed my role as the co director over and over again. At a meeting with some of the Caramel Curves, Broadly assured them that I was co directing this project. The leader of the Curves told Broadly that the only reason why she was going to let Broadly make a documentary about the group was because she trusted me. She also told them that If I was not directing the film her and the gang were out. VICE promised me and the Curves that we would be shown the footage that was shot, weigh in on the editing, and approve of the final cut before the piece was published.
I pushed for a crew from New Orleans but Broadly insisted on sending me a crew that was already VICE staff. After all they were facilitating the budget, so I agreed. After sending me a crew from New York City and a camera man from hell we spent a few days shooting this project. The conditions were incredibly stressful. It was a daunting task to get the dp to listen to anything that I told him. He refused all direction regarding his camera work, but was happy to have me direct the Curves.
I should have trusted my gut and been more assertive but since one of the people that I was working with was a friend that I’ve known for over 5 years I decided to just roll with the punches. At one point my lovely subjects - smart and amazing Caramel Curves became very suspicious of VICE and Broadly and wouldn’t sign release forms. They also wanted a guarantee that they could have copies of the footage for their personal use. The crew and I discussed this obstacle and the camera man from hell came up with an idea. He callously said, verbatim “I just got back from Ghana where we were shooting a doc about boxing. You should just do what I did when I was there - just lie to them and tell them they are going to get what ever it is that they want. I mean, we are never going to see these people again.” I was absolutely appalled. That pretty much set the mood of the entire shoot. I felt pitted between my subjects who I much respect and the dubious Broadly crew.
The Curves came out of the shoot unenthusiastic. They didn’t send their release forms to VICE. My “friend” at VICE put pressure on me to get them. I told her that we wanted to see the footage. She kept stalling… She would apologize and tell me it was coming. The pay check also never showed up, same story. I sent the releases, trusting my friend", and also VICE as a normal law abiding media outlet, to finish the project according to our contract. I was paid when they received the releases, but was never sent the dailies. No rough cuts, no outlines, no paper edits. Then, an email with a link to a rough cut, and a second email a day later saying sorry the piece is online! I was never able to show the Curves the edit, nor give my input. For this, and many other reasons, the piece is shallow. It kind of sucks compared to the real story of the Caramel Curves, which is beautiful. None of us in New Orleans are happy about the process at all. Vice doesn’t mind if we are deceived exploited and disposed then of.
Last week Broadly launched their awful site and kicked it off with my Caramel Curves project. This is a project that I have spent 2 years working on. That friend that I was telling you about earlier, well she took most of the credit, and her little minions that got sent down from New York with her got whatever credit was left over.
I complained to Hannah Gregg. She left me a voicemail and a text that apologised for what had been done and basically said that she knew they fucked up, but it was too late to do anything about it. I posted this story on my instagram and Tracie Morrissey, the creator of Broadly left me a few comments. She told me that I didn’t actually do anything for them and that I should be ashamed of myself for trying to claim this project as mine.
VICE didn’t know what to do with creative women so they made a ghetto for them called Broadly. Please spread the word that VICE and Broadly are vultures and will do anything they can to steal original content from independent artists. Don’t let them take advantage of you or anyone that you know.

3

3/12/17

this week was better than the last; still anxious about all the exams and deadlines that are coming up, but i am not feeling like i’m on the verge of dying. spring day by bts has been on replay all week and probably the song that’s getting me through my papers and such!! was able to finish this spread feeling a little more hopeful and happy. 

ps: also my embarrassing mistake of finding the wrongs lyrics to you never walk alone by bts OTL

my instagram: (x)

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 


    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”


    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

Stress Relief (M)

video credits: sweaterpawsjimin

gif created by: Admin Smuttyfairy

Summary: When it’s been awhile since you’ve paid a visit to Mr. CEO Kim Taehyung’s office for help in his relief of stress. c;

Genre: saaa-mutttttt

Keywords: rough sex, dirty talk, begging, teasing, orgasm denial(ish)??, spanking c:

Word Count: 4028

Written by: Admin Smuttyfairy

A/N: I tried :D…anyway, I started on this last summer and completely forgot about it until I was scrolling through my google doc files. I started working on it again so here’s the finished product (again, i tried :D)!

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A Lesson in Love (The Confrontation)

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: 3,036

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, this one is for Matt, the most fabulous resident I know, and all the other amazing residents who might be reading this.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - thank you for everything, always

Originally posted by sebjpeg

You sit in silence, nibbling on your bottom lip and tapping your foot against the carpeted floor. You’ve taken your fair share of difficult classes throughout the years, but nothing compares to the discomfort that comes with someone reading something that you’ve written. It’s as if all of your thoughts have been placed under a microscope, leaving every single imperfection out in the open for anyone to see. After taking this writing class, you have a newfound respect for all the authors who are willing to put their work out there.

“I must admit, I was a little apprehensive when you said that you were planning to scrap your initial idea and start afresh,” T’Challa says, carefully lowering your laptop onto the coffee table. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin in his hand.

“And?”

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Take It or Leave It

Hi!!!

This is something new I’m trying where the reader is a Lawyer for Tony Stark but after the Avengers get back together after the Accords Ross is still coming after them. Tony Stark wants the reader to get Ross off their backs but what happens when Ross decides to play a little dirty? 

Originally posted by mcudailybr

“What is this, Tony?” Steve looked from the sheets in his hand.

“It’s a resume.” Steve stared at the man. “Y/N L/N, she’s my go to lawyer. When I met her she had only just started at her firm. She had just finished a case and was handing it in to Hayden Hughes, the Managing Partner at the firm, when I was in his office. Instead of taking me to a senior partner to sign with, he told me to sign with the girl. I’ve never regretted it.” 

Steve looked back at the paper. “So you trust her.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Listen, Rogers, if there’s anyone you can get you out of your predicament, shall we say, it’s her. Her record runs on a strictly win-only basis.” 

“She’s worth a shot, Steve. I may have only met her for twenty minutes once before when she was getting Tony to sign something but she’s a good kid. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone keep him in line as well as she did apart from Pepper.” Bruce looked up from his StarkPad to affirm Tony’s praise of the lawyer. 

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” 

Natasha spoke up from her quiet conversation with Clint. “You’re only proving his point, Stark. Besides, this L/N lady can’t be that bad; she’s from the best law firm in New York, Hughes and Wood, which means she came from Harvard, the best law university in the country. She’s used to working cases which have high stakes so she knows discretion is key.”

“What’s the worst that she can do? We’re already wanted fugitives.” Wanda quipped in her thick accent. 

“Call her, Stark. Let’s see what she can do.” 

“No need, Mr Rogers, Mr Stark already called.” You waltzed out the elevator bags scattering your body. “But more importantly, I brought the Chinese.”

“We’ve already eaten.” Steve turned to look at you front on.

You laughed. “Oh that would be a good joke if takeout menus weren’t scattered across the coffee table, members of your team weren’t holding the aforementioned menus, half the people didn’t perk up at the thought of food and I didn’t get all of your favourites.” 

“How would you know our favourites? You have never met us.” Wanda queried. Her distrust for you was clear on her face and through her body language.

“Then how can I do this, Miss Maximoff?” You plopped most of the bags on the floor apart from the food. “Crispy Shredded Beef for Mr Stark, Chicken Chow Mein for Dr Banner, Sweet and Sour Chicken Balls for Captain Rogers, Szechuan Spare Ribs for Miss Romanoff, King Prawn Chop Suey for Mr Barton, Honey Pork for Mr Odinson, House Special Foo Yung for Miss Maximoff, Special Crispy Noodles for Mr Vision, Singapore Mixed Meat Chow Mein for King T’Challa, Stir Fried Mushrooms in Black Bean Sauce for Mr Lang, Shrimp Chow Mein for Colonel Rhodes, Beef Shanghai Style for Mr Wilson, Chicken Singapore Noodles for Mr Parker, and finally Crispy Chicken Fillet and Roast Duck Fried Rice for Sergeant Barnes.” You finished as you placed the final tub on the table. 

“Oh that’s it. She’s my favourite lawyer.” Clint fist pumped the air dramatically. 

You raised an expectant eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you miss the memo? I wasn’t done. I also got Prawn Crackers, Prawn Toast, Crispy Seaweed, Spring Rolls, Crispy Wontons, Salt and Pepper King Prawns, Honey Roast Spare Ribs, Yung Chow Fried Rice, Fried Dumplings, Deep Fried Crab Claws, Aromatic Crispy Duck and finally Fortune Cookies for a bit of fun.” 

“I think I’m in love.” Scott whispered, staring at you.

Ignoring the blubbering man, you pulled out a gift bag from the collection around your feet. “Sorry I couldn’t make your birthday Mr Stark, you know I had court the next day and you can’t arrive in court under influence.” 

“Sure thing, Bunny, no worries.” The man smirked as the nickname came out again. Apparently when you were working or thinking your nose scrunched up and Tony had made it his job to entitle you with a nickname because of it; he thought of Bunny to be a sufficient name. Either way, everybody was watching with rapt attention as Tony removed the black tissue paper from the top of the bag and pulled out the box inside. Tony’s face lit up at the sight, prompting the question. 

“What did Lawyer Lady get ya, Tin Man?” Sam asked expectantly, like a petulant child. 

Thankfully Vision saved him from his despair. “It appears to be a Glen Garioch 46 Year Old 1958 Whiskey, average pricing around $2,777.” 

Low whistles ran throughout the men of the room. 

“Vis! You don’t tell people the price of gifts!” Wanda gave an exclamatory hiss in said man’s direction causing him to frown in thought.

“Damn, L/N. That’s good whiskey.” Sam addressed you but his eyes were still on the bottle. 

“If you play your cards right, Mr Wilson, you might get gifts like that too.” 

He shot you a flirty smirk. “I’ll play you any cards you want if it gets you around here more often.” 

“I’m surrounded by people like Mr Stark, and more, all day, Mr Wilson, you’re going to have to do better than that.” You pouted slightly at the man, fully enjoying the little exchange. 

“I like her. I’ve been telling you for a long time, Birdbrain, you’ve got to up your game.” James permitted himself to join the conversation. 

“Damn, and here I was thinking the only person you like was you boyfriend: The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan.” 

“Didn’t you get anything for yourself, Miss L/N?” Peter asked you as he leant forward to get his noodles. 

“I got the Szechuan Spare Ribs. They’re the best thing on the menu.” You replied with a nod towards Natasha. 

“Amen to that, sestra!” She raised her beer to you and it reminded you of the other bag. 

You pulled out the beer that you had brought with you, alongside the Chinese. “Vy khotite drugogo?” You held out a bottle for her. 

“Ty govorish’ po-russki?” She looked surprised as she took the bottle. 

You nodded. “My parents were quite pushy and strict when I was younger. They made sure I knew as many languages as I could so I would be well prepared for life.” You took a can opener from your bag; you were starting to feel like Mary Poppins. Carefully popping the cap off your bottle, you offered the opener to Natasha and she gratefully accepted. 

“It’ll be fun to have another Russian speaker in the mix.” James stirred his food quietly before taking a bite. 

“The Three Musketeers.” Clint raised his bottle to us jokingly. 

“Any other talents we should know about, Sweetcheeks?” Sam wiggled his eyebrows and you simply gave him an unimpressed look. 

“Alongside Russian and English, I also speak French, German, Portuguese, Spanish, Latin, Italian, and Mandarin. Fluently. Mum made me do Ballet and Gymnastics whilst my Dad made me do martial arts whilst growing up. And I had to learn the piano at school.” You listed them off with an impressive air of nonchalance. 

“You have the skill set to join the Avengers.” Scott announced dramatically whilst chewing on his mushrooms. 

“And you clearly didn’t read the resume.” You quickly rebutted, taking a swig of your beer.

“What’s making you say that?” 

“Honestly, Mr Lang, it’s obvious.” You shook your head to yourself. “The only people who have read my resume in this room is Mr Stark about 9 years ago; Miss Romanoff, Mr Barton and Sergeant Barnes all have read it because they wanted to assess my threat level to themselves individually and the team, hence why they have been carrying most of the conversation as they are trying to evaluate me; Mr Vision will have read my resume due to the fact that he has never seen or interacted with a lawyer before; and finally Captain Rogers will have read my resume as he doesn’t trust me in the slightest right now, his feet are angled ever so slightly towards me showing interest, he hasn’t spoken at all to me apart from a defensive lie at the beginning and now he’s contemplating on how to talk to Tony about me after I’m gone without causing conflict. Tell me I’m wrong.” No one said anything. You stood up from your seat and gathered your bags. “Mr Stark, I presume I’m in the usual room?” 

Tony let out a tired sigh. “Yeah, Bunny. Please just call me Tony for the millionth time.”

“Of course, Tony.” The pair of you shared knowing smiles as you picked the bags up and disappeared down the hallway.

A Sorry Situation

Request: an angsty oneshot with Yoongi. like he had a super bad day cause he couldn’t finish a song or smtg and u just wanted to talk to him and give him some food because he’s been hours locked in his studio and he lashes out at you. But super fluffy at the end?

AN - I changed the original request a little bit, I hope it’s okay ~
The idea of Yoongi actually lashing out at anyone is so heartbreaking though… I hope you enjoy -Kaitlin


Genre: Angst | Fluff
Members: Yoongi x Reader
Word count: 2,894


Masterlist

Originally posted by mn-yg

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actual useful study tips

i’m going to keep this short-ish and shitty and un-proofread because i only have like 6 followers but it’s finals week and i keep seeing these awful study tips everywhere that are like “drink water” and “don’t get distracted on the internet” and other unrealistic stuff like that, so here is a REALISTIC students guide to pulling ur semester together, written by a truly apathetic student still clinging onto the deans list (me). enjoy and share as u wish

Originally posted by get-meowtta-here

1. make study plans with a distant acquaintance who you think is cooler than you. do you want their first impression of you to be 20 minutes late, saying “oops i just realized i haven’t taken notes all semester?” no u want to impress them! knowing a complete strangers opinion of you is on the line, you can use this to find the strength to make a great looking study guide, or actually add to the google doc instead of just reading what everyone else wrote. bonus points if you make plans to meet at 10am. 

2. fuck the “stay focused” app. if you are anything like me you know it takes about 15 minutes max to download a new browser and you’re back to doing the same exact thing you were before, but on firefox instead of google chrome. plus, we all have cell phones, so blocking tumblr on my computer just means i have to look at smaller pictures. WHAT U HAVE TO DO is find a person you trust, preferably your parents or someone in another state/country who you can’t hound in-person and who WILL. NOT. CRACK. u give them your login information for your social media apps (i do this every finals week with Facebook and tumblr for at least a day or 2 or before my hardest exam) and you have them change your password. it’s life changing. 

3. look at gifs of hermione granger and rory gilmore. literally role play as them, dress like them if you have to. they just have it so together!! how!! 

4. before you leave your dorm ASK YOURSELF “do i reaaaallyyy need my computer?” and if you don’t need it to study, don’t bring it with you. don’t bring your phone either unless you need music. i am an international relations/art history major and the answer for me personally is “no” 99.9% of the time because all my exams are based off readings/in class notes. the next step is to go to the library, or wherever you study, and bring nothing but good old fashioned papers with you.

4b. if you have readings to do print them out. i kill about 8 trees per semester by printing off hundreds of pieces of paper and while environmentally i feel sort of guilty about it, it’s the actual only way i can read anything without my eyes glazing over, or ending up on style.com looking at Diors F/W 2002 collection. plus you can ~highlight~ and annotate better.

5. white noise is your best friend. rainymood.com and white noise generator are 1000x better than the most mellow spotify playlist, imo, or at least work really well in the background. (personally i don’t like studying to music with vocals because the words distract me but if white noise isn’t enough u can do sigur ros or instrumental music) however, when it’s the early morning hours and you feel like you’re about to crash show tunes can and will keep you going. i recommend “you can’t stop the beat” from hairspray and anything from mamma mia.  

6. if possible, make friends with someone who has a car. burger king can make or break you at 2am. 

7. TREAT YASELF. i never eat healthy during finals week and i don’t trust people who do. but if you actually get up early to study you deserve the largest dunking donuts or most expensive latte. and if you are up at 3am, yes you not only can but should get 3 different chip bags from the vending machine. (i swear crunching helps me stay awake anyways)

8. nothing is a better break than a walk outside. this is not an opinion this is a fact. even if you just go stand outside and take 10 deep breaths. or lay in grass for 2 minutes. and if it’s a nice sunset go let yourself watch it. 

9. do not “dress for success,” wear the most comfortable clothes that you own (but not pajama pants or ur fucked. ANYWHERE is a bed when u r wearing pajama pants, in personal experience). also, something to get your hair away from your face/eyes (like a bandana or something stretchy though not a hard headband) is a GAME CHANGER

10. you would be surprised how not-rude people are if you mass-email your class with questions or in need of assistance. whether you need to borrow the book or missed a day (or 5) of notes, throwing an email into the wind usually won’t fail you!! *bonus tip: offer to bake cookies or buy food for who ever helps you. it will make u seem cute/friendly/thankful/desperate and they will NEVER actually ask u to follow through. i once got like 5 days of missed notes AND a girl lent me her flash cards by doing this.*

11. do your bibliography as you research!! there is officially no worse feeling than finally finishing a paper at 3:47am and then realizing you have to add in your citations and make your works cited. save yourself.

12. don’t go out less, but go home earlier. instead of skipping a party or movie night or general get together with friends completely, go from 11pm-1am. it gives you the literal entire day to still study, if you get back at 1am you can drink a gallon of water and watch a 22 minute episode of something, be asleep at 1:30am and still wake up at like 9:30 the next day to keep working. those are the best hours of any party anyways and you don’t have to miss out on the memories just for some shitty number grade. 

13. if you decide to take a napping break, do it on a couch or futon with all the lights on, not in your bed. you get ur horizontal time in but it’s much more difficult to actually sleep for an entire night in this position, so you don’t have to worry about accidentally not waking up.

14. if you get really stressed look up facts about how big the universe is and how small and short lived and tiny humans are in comparison. or a ted talk about how grades can’t measure intelligence, or about how all humans are meant to be artists. OR watch an episode of BBC planet earth. this always comforts me for some reason.

i am struggling to come up with more, so there’s my realistic study guide for all my fellow students out there. enjoy finals, and remember!! 2 years after graduation employers consider it “juvenile” to include your GPA on your resume :) 

Jimin is totally that boyfriend that will just go and plop down into Jungkook’s lap when he wants attention. It doesn’t matter when, where, or if Jungkook’s busy or not; if Jimin wants attention, he gets attention. And God knows he’d be bratty when he wasn’t satisfied.

Jungkook could be in the middle of writing a paper for one of his college courses and Jimin will just walk up to him, pull his chair out from the desk, and straddle him with his arms linked behind his head. 

“I need attention.”

And because he’s used to it by now and he could never say no to Jimin, Jungkook only sighs and pulls him tighter against his chest before reaching around him to finish his paper.  

There are times that it’s a bit inconvenient. Take Jungkook’s weekly game nights with the guys for instance. 

 Every Friday night at 8:30pm on the dot, Jungkook plays Overwatch with Taehyung, Yugyeom, and Bambam until 3am. Normally, Jimin will have gotten as much of Jungkook’s attention as possible beforehand so his boyfriend could play in peace. This time, however, Jungkook sat on the couch in nothing but sweatpants and a headset, barking orders into the mic like a military sergeant. The sight alone made Jimin want to jump him right there. 

But because Jimin is a thoughtful and considerate boyfriend, he settles for climbing into his lap and hugging him like a koala. Jungkook just opens his arms and loops them around Jimin to continue playing, pressing a kiss to his shoulder in a quick act of affection. 

After about fifteen minutes of Jungkook basically ignoring him, Jimin decides it’s time to be a little more assertive

He’d start pressing kisses against Jungkook’s neck, slowly working his way down his shoulder and back up until he could nip at his ear, tugging on the piercings playfully. Jungkook, still fixated on the game, only shivers and groans deep in his chest, low enough that the mic doesn’t pick it up but loud enough that Jimin can hear it. And because he’s a little shit, Jimin waits until Jungkook’s halfway through a game to drag his nails down his back, just hard enough to leave soft, red marks, but not enough to hurt him.

“Babe.” Jungkook would grit out, almost painfully, as he kept his eyes on the screen, attempting to ignore the small chuckle and warm breath fanning against his neck.

He’d squeeze Jimin closer to him, as much as he could whilst paying attention to the game and the voices screeching in his ear, and lean down to kiss his neck gently before moving away again.

Jimin, still not satisfied with the reaction, would grin mischievously and kiss Jungkook’s cheek softly, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry, baby. Am I distracting you?”

“No, no. You aren’t distracting me.” Jungkook’s voice would tremble slightly, feeling Jimin rake his fingers across his abs lightly. 

It would seem like Jimin had gotten tired of waiting for the attention and just decided to enjoy being with Jungkook, but no. 

Jimin waits until Jungkook is completely immersed in his game before draping his arms across his shoulders and kissing the corner of his mouth, just light enough that it isn’t a real kiss, but enough to get Jungkook wanting more. He’d lean towards Jimin, subconsciously seeking the pressure of lips on his skin, and he’d find the pressure against his jaw, fluttering around until it presses to his Adam’s apple. The touch has Jungkook freezing in his spot, unsure as to what would happen next.

And Jimin, the cheeky fucker, goes back to kissing along Jungkook’s shoulder to lure him back into a sense of false safety. Once Jungkook relaxed again, Jimin would lean down and sink his teeth into Jungkook’s shoulder, leaving imprints and most likely a light bruise. The sudden bite startles Jungkook and he jumps, and for a split second he forgets that the mic is still on, and he lets out the most gutteral growl that it sends tingles down Jimin’s spine.

Jungkook can’t take it anymore and just pulls Jimin into the messiest, most intense kiss they’d had in a while, nearly all tongue and teeth. Jungkook’s got a hand buried in Jimin’s hair as the other wraps around his waist, the controller tossed haphazardly to the side so he can grip Jimin properly. Jimin’s got a both hands tangled in Jungkook’s hair, tugging and scratching against his scalp when he feels a nip against his lips. 

When they pull back, Jungkook can hear his friends shouting in the background for him to pay attention but can’t bring himself to care when he sees Jimin’s kiss-swollen lips and the dazed, sated look in his eyes. 

“Can I play now?” Jungkook would smirk, fingers gripping Jimin’s thighs teasingly, “Or do you need more attention?”

 He’d feel Jimin hum, tilting his head in mock-thought before leaning in to kiss him one more time, tongues curling against each other softly before Jungkook sucked Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth. It would end a moment later, three soft pecks following until Jimin leaned back with a content smile.

“Yeah, you can play now.”

Jimin most definitely falls asleep on his lap, head tucked into Jungkook’s neck, whining softly whenever Jungkook jostles him too much. And at 3:15am, when he’d finished playing, Jungkook would pull Jimin up with him and carry him back to the bedroom, letting him curl as far into his chest as Jimin pleased. 

so i made this post because even the laziest people in existence still have to study ha ha these are just some things i’ve been doing for my revision!

1. you don’t need to rewrite notes to memorise them

i know tons of people say that rewriting notes is a form of memory retention but honestly!!! i don’t have the energy/patience for that ha! for me, the best method to memorise things (especially content-heavy chapters/subjects) would be to record yourself talking. i don’t think this is especially catered to auditory learners, because i know for a fact that i’m not an auditory learner but this still works especially well for me so!!

 i usually open up the voice recorder app and talk as if i’m teaching someone! i’d recommend you use a guidebook as reference and not the actual textbooks. guidebooks are more vague, so when you’re speaking about a particular point, you can sort of expand on the point given in the guidebook from your knowledge of the subject! this really helps for revision because you’re basically forced to remember things. you don’t necessarily need to replay your recordings. to me, the “recording” bit of this method is psychological, it makes me feel like i’m actually memorising and not just talking to myself haha.

this recording method is honestly one of the most helpful things i’ve ever started doing and i can do a more in-depth post on it if anyone asks haha

2. use different highlighters for different sections

i know literally everyone has been told this tip in their lifetime but honestly!!! it’s EXTREMELY helpful, especially if you want to do timelines for history! use different colours for things like dates, people, treaties, etc! 
okay but one thing about this tip that’s sort of different from others is that when you highlight dates, highlight the entire event and not just the date! so for example, instead of highlighting “28 June 1919″, highlight “The Treaty of Versailles was signed on 28 June 1919.” that way, you know the WHOLE event and the date and you’ll be more likely to remember both! 

i learnt this the hard way - i used to highlight dates by themselves (maybe i was just totally dumb) and i could NEVER remember what happened on the dates lmao 

3. the internet is there for you

it’s a bad habit of mine, but being a very last-minute person, i ALWAYS have doubts even the night before exams. since it’s too late to actually contact anyone, i usually have to rely on the internet. the internet has a myriad of wonderful wonderful resources that are so incredibly useful! 

some youtube channels that have helped me are khanacademy (literally anything), mathbff (math), keith hughes (history), j brierly (literature) 

i also recommend watching documentaries (for history/social studies) because even though it’s a more in-depth version of what you have to learn, it’ll help you understand everything better + make your essay stand out :) 

4. find a suitable study space

a good study space is probably the first thing you should ensure if you want to get anything done at all. i usually never study at home, simply because i’m always distracted by trivial things such as “i’m hungry, i’m gonna get food” or “i’m so tired i’m going to sleep for five minutes”. 

when i started studying outside (usually at starbucks/the library), my productivity level increased so much it blew my mind a little. even though it’s a bit troublesome because you may not be completely sure what materials to bring, you’ll still get a lot done trust me on this lmao

5. always, always plan what you want to do

i find it really taxing to plan out my entire day down to the hour, so i usually just set a certain number of things i want to complete for that day, and just let things naturally flow from there.

for example, i write the things i want to do on my calendar (finish a set of math papers, read a chapter of lit, etc.) and then i just get everything done on that day w/o planning the exact time i’m going to do it! it makes things less stressful in my opinion :)

i’ve tried planning things by hour but it usually never works out so i just stopped doing it and honestly it’s not necessary! what’s important about planning is just knowing what you need to do and then getting it done. 

6. handwrite your notes whenever you can

writing your notes by hand triggers your memory more effectively than typing them out. even though i’m tempted to type out notes since i’m the laziest person in existence, i still try (most of the time) to write notes because at the end of the day, you’ll be more proud of your handwritten notes than your boring typed out ones :)

7. study with people who usually do well

this is a rather…shady….method of learning but honestly!!! when you know how the top students function, you can learn from them as well! 

i’ve discovered that top students usually perform so well because they review their content regularly, unlike people like me who wait three days before the exam to start cramming everything into my brain.

keep some pictures of your notes or some flashcards with you, so that when you have pockets of time (eg. waiting for a friend, waiting for the bus, etc), you can whip them out and start reviewing :) 

these people also act as tutors, so you can clarify your doubts with them and it’ll be less awkward as compared to asking an actual teacher. i know i prefer asking classmates than teachers hahaha.


OKAY i hope this helped :-) please also reblog/like this if you’re a studyblr, i’m new to the community and i wanna follow more people!! 

I was thinking about how sea salt that you boil in to crystals yourself is so much more potent….and I was writing about maple wine, so it all got me thinking about maple syrup/maple sugar. In some ways, maple sugar and sea salt are perfect opposites – what appears to be clear, pure water, boiled unrecognizable, emerging crystalline, the only difference salty or sweet. And making maple syrup/sugar is a PROCESS: gathering buckets of sap from around the woods, stumbling over snow banks and bushes to bring it to the sugar shack, boiling the sap and constantly feeding the fire for hours and days, going through more wood than you could imagine and watching a gradient of amber spread through the pans, darkening in to rich sweet syrup. If you want to make sugar, you take it boil it even more, evaporating the last of the water in it, the last memory of how it used to flow in a forests’ veins. It takes some 40-80 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, more to make sugar. And making syrup with someone gets real…for a time, you’re popping in and out to go collect the rest of the buckets, but after a while it’s just you and them in a small, maple steam filled shed, usually drinking something homemade and of questionable alcohol content, talking through the day and the night. Or by yourself, with your thoughts and your wishes and your ghosts, though I’ve never done this for long, just fractions of an hour, unlike friends who have spent days there boiling away heart break or trying to get their head and pans level. 

If you need something strong to protect you, you can’t do much better than homemade sea salt. But if you need to barter something, to trade for something big and important and true, I wonder if a homemade maple sugar candy might get you what you’re looking for. 

I imagine you bring it to the edge of the forest. Or more likely, that corner of the dining hall where no matter what hour of the day someone is drinking coffee and almost done a paper they never seem to finish. All the right words… “if it would please you,” what you seek, and their reply, “and in exchange?” So you make your offer: the blood of a forest’s platoon impervious to their wounds, a fire tended, a confession you would never have made otherwise, a week of your life. They are delighted, to get so much for what now seems like so little, and greedily they reach towards you, ready to take what you have promised, and before their hands, or not exactly hands anymore, can find you – you place it on the table. A small maple sugar candy. You’ve pressed it in to a maple leaf mold because hell, if you’re gonna do this you may as well do it right. The air freezes for a second, and you feel your blood still as you wonder if you have misjudged…and then you feel it begin to thaw, the sap to run again. It smiles at you. It doesn’t mind clever, and fortunately for you, it’s a fan of sweet.

[x]

I fucking remember
Looking at twitter on my phone, holding it under my desk at the call center so my boss could pretend he couldn’t tell i was using my phone on the call floor
And seeing these hit my timeline
And being really confused
And then realizing
And then feeling like the whole world had just ground to a halt

Had a long drive with the family today and put on the Audiobook of “The Wee Free Men” for my 5yo and 7yo, had kinda expected them to mostly ignore it in favor of bickering.

But they listened to it with rapt attention. Luke, my oldest, picked up on the MC being only two years older than him. And she was a hero and very cool. And she was smart like him.

And unprompted he told me how amazed he was that listening to this book that he could see it all in his head, that he’d never been able to do it before. And he was worried we wouldn’t finish the book before we got home, and he made me promise that we could listen to more when we got home. And he made me promise to get him a paper copy so he could read it.

That made my heart so full of happiness that it’s overflowing with tears. I’m so excited at the prospect of sharing Terry Pratchett’s legacy with my kids. Terry’s writing taught me more about life, humans, and just… everything than I can even reasonably articulate. I’m a vastly better person for his influence on my life than I would have otherwise been. I really hope that he has the same impact on my kids that he had on me.

I’m still not over Gravity Falls, and I probably never will be. Get ready for an essay, friends.

Before “Take Back the Falls” aired I was a little afraid my interest in Gravity Falls would die out. Sure, it was my favorite show by about thirty orders of magnitude. Sure, I’d gotten into it in a way I’d never gotten into a tv show before. That didn’t count as insurance. I’d fallen in and out of love with stories—especially shows, which aren’t really my thing—before. But you know what? I don’t think I’m ever going to stop loving Gravity Falls, because every time I think about watching any given episode, I feel the same sort of pang I get when I read Thorin’s last line in The Hobbit or hear the opening notes of “When You Wish Upon a Star”—because every time I try to pick Gravity Falls apart, I’m more wowed by what Hirsch and his team managed to do.

I just—okay, let’s look at something really simple, something which, in a lesser show, would have been really cool, but still only that; cool. In episode 1, “Tourist Trapped,” we’re presented with an unspoken question. Well, all right, we’re presented with a couple dozen unspoken questions, but I’m only going to focus on one. Dipper finds a journal in the woods. He opens the front cover and sees the words “Property of…,” with the space underneath for the name ripped out. Who is the author of the journal? We don’t know. Cue giant mystery number one. Fast forward to the end of “Not What He Seems.” A mysterious figure steps out of the portal. The kids ask who it is. Stan’s reply: “The Author of the Journals—my brother.”

So there you are. It took almost three years, thirty-one episodes, and a whole bunch of hints and clues, but we finally, finally got the answer to one of the first and certainly one of the biggest questions of the show.

Except … not really.

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Stress Reliever

Originally posted by solo-harry

Imagine: You’re having a really stressful day and Harry helps you relax *wink wink*

Word count: 892 (short and sweet)

Warnings: smut (nothing too wild, still hot though)

A/N: Just fucking LOOK at this gif god he’s fucking beautiful. okay okay on to the imagine. Masterlist

You were having the must stressful week of your life. You were in the last year of college, and the work load never seemed to slow down. This week specifically, everything was piling up. Today, you took a huge test in one of your harder classes and you have no idea if you passed or failed. You feared it was the latter, even though you stayed up all night last night studying. On top of all that you had a three papers due Monday, so you would have no time to relax this weekend.

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I was thinking about how sea salt that you boil in to crystals yourself is so much more potent….and I was writing about maple wine, so it all got me thinking about maple syrup/maple sugar. In some ways, maple sugar and sea salt are perfect opposites – what appears to be clear, pure water, boiled unrecognizable, emerging crystalline, the only difference salty or sweet. And making maple syrup/sugar is a PROCESS: gathering buckets of sap from around the woods, stumbling over snow banks and bushes to bring it to the sugar shack, boiling the sap and constantly feeding the fire for hours and days, going through more wood than you could imagine and watching a gradient of amber spread through the pans, darkening in to rich sweet syrup. If you want to make sugar, you take it and boil it even more, evaporating the last of the water in it, the last memory of how it used to flow in a forests’ veins. It takes some 40-80 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, more to make sugar. And making syrup with someone gets real…for a time, you’re popping in and out to go collect the rest of the buckets, but after a while it’s just you and them in a small, maple steam filled shed, usually drinking something homemade and of questionable alcohol content, talking through the day and the night. Or by yourself, with your thoughts and your wishes and your ghosts, though I’ve never done this for long, just fractions of an hour, unlike friends who have spent days there boiling away heart break or trying to get their head and pans level. 

If you need something strong to protect you, you can’t do much better than homemade sea salt. But if you need to barter something, to trade for something big and important and true, I wonder if a homemade maple sugar candy might get you what you’re looking for. 

I imagine you bring it to the edge of the forest. Or more likely, that corner of the dining hall where no matter what hour of the day someone is drinking coffee and almost done a paper they never seem to finish. All the right words… “if it would please you,” what you seek, and their reply, “and in exchange?” So you make your offer: the blood of a forest’s platoon impervious to their wounds, a fire tended, a confession you would never have made otherwise, a week of your life. They are delighted, to get so much for what now seems like so little, and greedily they reach towards you, ready to take what you have promised, and before their hands, or not exactly hands anymore, can find you – you place it on the table. A small maple sugar candy. You’ve pressed it in to a maple leaf mold because hell, if you’re gonna do this you may as well do it right. The air freezes for a second, and you feel your blood still as you wonder if you have misjudged…and then you feel it begin to thaw, the sap to run again. It smiles at you. It doesn’t mind clever, and fortunately for you, it’s a fan of sweet.

[x]

1776 is such a good musical like??

it’s got its inaccuracies, that’s inevitable with anything historically based esp when you’re taking creative license and trying to fit things into two and a half hours, and there’s a distinct lack of women, but still

the actor who plays Rutledge can s i n g oh my gosh, everyone in this musical can sing really well

the way John and Abigail play off one another and her tone when she says “pins” and they’re the same height just kind of staring each other down and John just kinda “yep okay I’ll get your pins bby” they’re so in love

He Plays The Violin is pure innuendo and I didn’t understand a bit of it the first time?? and several rewatches later I appreciate it fully bless

Mama, Look Sharp makes me c r y and maybe it’s not the saddest song in a musical but it’s up there I will fight someone on this

on the subject of fighting someone I’m always up to fight our boy TJeffs but the scene where he’s sitting in the dark trying to write and keeps throwing two and three-word drafts over his shoulder and then a week later he hasn’t left his room, hasn’t shaved, the floor is covered in papers…….. relatable

kegs of saltpeter tied neat with blue ribbon

“John I’m not even speaking to you”
“It’s too late for that damMIT THERES WORK TO BE DONE”

the way Thompson reads the last dispatch, and his voice is shaking, and he finally gets it under control only for his hands to shake and you can see the paper crinkling in his grip

the ever-classic “it’s a revolution, dammit! we’re going to have to offend SOMEBODY”

GWash is great even tho he never makes an appearance, “I have been in expectation of receiving a reply on the subject of my last fifteen dispatches” that’s how you eloquently drag someone for not texting you back

possibly more to follow as the movie finishes but I’m keeping up tradition by watching this again on the Fourth as I have done for years

Escape {MYG}

Part 1 | Part 2

Description: You’re Min Yoongi’s professor. Min Yoongi doesn’t seem to care about that.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2,593

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Author: Admin Xiufairy

Just being a teacher was hard, but being his teacher was harder. He was Min Yoongi, a boy in his last year of college with you as his music professor. This kid had a passion, you’d give him that, despite the age gap not being that big.

The day he walked in with his hair dyed mint green, you knew it was over for you. He liked rap, more than the average rapper really did, and not only that, but he was good at it. Good was probably an understatement, you’d say he was one of the best rappers you’d ever heard, celebrity or not.

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3

You Tease - Bucky Barnes x Reader SMUT

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Summary/Request: Hey hey, I’m sure you already have Sexual Tension all planned out, but could you do an X Reader with the same kinda situation they’re in now but reader is sending Bucky suggestive texts throughout class and distracting him, and maybe smut after?

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: Sexual comments, Smut & Idk jealousy ?

A/N: this is my first smut I hope you guys like it LOL also thank you to the individual who was kind enough to leave me my first request ! Highly appreciated!
ALSO HIS NAME IN YOUR PHONE IS PAPI CHULO I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF FROM CHANGING IT BYE

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Paired up - Yoongi (suga)

Originally posted by holdmettightbts

Group: BTS
Member: Suga
Type: Smut
warnings: sexual content!

A/N: so i had this dirty dream about yoongi and i feel so blessed omg i decided to share it with you guys!! 


Group assignments are a pain in the ass. Everybody knows that and everybody hates them. However, you thought it would get a little more bearable now you’ve been paired up with the hot, mint haired guy in your class. You didn’t really know what he was like though, he never really said much and was mostly napping during class so you didn’t get the chance to get to know him very well. You thought he didn’t talk alot because he was shy and didn’t like to be in the spotlight, but boy were you wrong.

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