Idk about everyone else but I really enjoyed the chapters this week! (Okay fine, admittedly RoE was a little bland but for me personally the Sloan diamond scene was worth it.)

But I mean I thought The Sophomore special was super funny?? And It Lives in the Woods is already blowing me away??? AND HERO MC IS AN ALIEN???? What a week.

Do you ever think you are special to someone but then you see this person acting the same with everybody else and you are just kinda “oh, ok. i never thought I was special”

i missed this year’s witchsona week (which was in january), but then i thought: why do i need a special occasion to draw myself as a grimy, feral mountain forest witch who studies sleep, hibernation and death of all things, living creatures and (seemingly) inanimate objects

When I first looked into your eyes I thought I had seen something special in them; Love, hate, maybe even some passion…
But I was mistaken; your eyes, they tricked me. I thought I saw fire, but really they were just dead; Dead eyes that longed to be alive.
—  lilbubble 

I want to explain to you all why I’m so upset about this, and why I’m an “anti” shipper. When I was 14 I read my first fanfiction about a teen and an adult dating. At the time, I had no idea it was a bad thing. Nothing in the stories I was reading depicted this relationship as unhealthy or a ‘bad’ thing. I’m sure the authors would all say they ‘didn’t condone’ it in real life, but but honestly it all looked fine to me in what I saw and read and consumed, so I didn’t really understand what was not to ‘condone’.

I started reading more fanfiction than regular books, I was in that embarrasing phase of fandom (that I wish I could forget), and lots of them depicted minor/adult relationships. Being a young teen I thought of myself of course as one of those ‘mature for my age’ teenagers. I thought I was more ‘adult’ and that adults would see me as an adult.

So when I was 16, and a 28 year old man complimented me, flirted with me, and paid attention to me on the site I used to frequent, I did not question it. All the fanfiction I read had already instilled in me the belief that this was normal, healthy, and had potential. It made me believe I really was ‘mature for my age’ when I really wasn’t any more mature than any other 16 year old kid. I thought I was special.

I learned I wasn’t, thank God, before it was too late, (and not because I wised up) but it took another five years for me to realize he came for me because I was young, naive, and easily manipulated. I was an easy target, and made all the easier because so much of what i consumed said this would have been a normal, healthy relationship (and only 2 years later I was escaping an abusive relationship that I had for a while believed to be healthy and normal too, again because of media and fanfiction). And of course well before I hit his age I realized how silly I had been to think of myself as ‘practically an adult’ when I was 16, to think I was ‘more mature’ than my peers.

It was fanfiction that told me this was healthy and normal. It was fanfiction that helped paint a target on my back for a REAL predator. When we say we are uncomfortable with/against your shipping an adult who is well into maturity with a minor who is definitely not mature (and there is NO SUCH THING as ‘mature for your age’) it is because we have either experienced this personally, or we have the common sense to understand why this might hurt someone else, why it might cause someone to become a victim down the road.

tsu-doh-nimh  asked:

I'm not having a good day (bad day with chronic condition, well meaning people who are no help, and I have to work to eat uuuuuugh) do you have any little happy things that's cheered you up lately or snippets of stories you could share?

Obito returns to consciousness in a damp concrete cell, the only light filtering in from a hand-sized rectangle high up in each wall. Given that his last clear memory is of heading to the chapel so he could oversee the remainder of the wedding preparations, this is probably not good.

“Oh, god damn it,” he growls, levering himself up off the bare ground. He’s entirely unarmed, stripped of every last knife he was carrying this morning. The cell is barely six feet wide in either direction, entirely empty except for him, with a high ceiling and a metal door that has a curious gap at the bottom. Too narrow to even fit his arm through, he judges, and turns his attention to studying the rest of it.

No obvious handle, hinges on the outside, massive deadbolt shut fast. There’s a tightly shut panel in the center that’s probably some kind of window, but it has no visible way of opening, either.

Yeah, Obito’s not getting out that way without some Semtex at the very least.

“Ah, there are the dulcet tones I was missing!” a viciously cheerful voice says, echoing strangely. Obito tracks it to the opening under the door. It sounds like there’s a hallway between them, and he’s willing to bet just about anything that Kisame is in a very similar cell. “Morning, Tobi!”

“Beast,” Obito answers, pitching his voice to carry. “Am I the only one with fancy digs, or are you living the high life too?”

“Concrete, concrete, and more concrete?” That’s Sasori, dry as dust. Quieter, too, and not just because he’s quiet in general. Further away, Obito thinks. “Yes, it’s riveting.”

Obito snorts. “And here I thought I was special,” he laments.

From the opening in the right wall, Nagato makes a quiet sound of amusement and then orders, “Akatsuki, sound off.”

“Angel here,” comes from Obito’s left, and Konan sounds the particular flavor of blandly amused that means heads are going to explode as soon as she’s within grabbing distance of her sniper rifle again.

“Tobi here,” Obito adds, crouching to run his fingers along the seams of the door. Better to check futilely than not and miss something obvious.

“Puppeteer present,” Sasori murmurs.

“Beast here. So who’s got a plan to get us out and bust some heads?”

From even further away than Sasori, Kakuzu huffs, “Zombie here. Beast, shut your trap for a minute.”

Before Kisame can retort, Deidara puts in, “Bomber here,” from further on Obito’s left.

On the heels of that comes Hidan’s sharp, “Priest here.” Further still, and Obito frowns a little, trying to picture the layout in his mind.

“Gardener, too,” Zetsu adds with a distinct groan, just as distant as Hidan. “Fuck, what did they hit us with?”

“Gardener?” Nagato asks sharply, and Obito feels the same flicker of alarm. Zetsu has a weird constitution, and drugs don’t always affect him the way they’re supposed to. It’s one of the reasons they only go to Orochimaru for medical care—the man might be an underground doctor, but he’s a genius, and more than able to handle the complications. If they’re stuck in a bunch of cells, though, help is probably going to be a long time in coming.

“Fine, Pein,” Zetsu answers, though. “Just feels like a hangover. I’ll be operational in a few minutes.”

Deidara makes a sound of clear distress. “For all the good it will do us, un,” he complains. “The bastards took everything I had on me! Even my hair pins. I liked those ones, un.”

That’s—that’s also very much not good. Deidara’s good at disguising explosives, but people don’t know that. They look at Akatsuki’s youngest member and see a bubbly blond with a fondness for explosions, and overlook the genius behind those explosions. Everyone who’s learned better is dead, so the fact that someone had the forethought to take everything is…unsettling.

“How about you, Tobi?” Hidan calls. “I’ve see you pull knives out of some fucking impossible places. Got anything handy shoved somewhere unmentionable?”

“Fuck off, Priest,” Obito retorts. He finally gives up on the door, finding nothing, and turns to give the rest of the cell the same treatment, though he does pause briefly to mourn his lost weapons. “And no, I don’t. They took everything of mine, too. Fuck, those were my favorite trench knives. I even had my best Khyber knife on me. Assholes.”

Kisame grunts. “So let me get this straight. Someone drugged us and kidnapped us. We’re locked in a couple of tiny cells with no fucking way out, no weapons, and no idea who took us. Fucking fuck.”

“And,” Obito adds pointedly, dragging his fingers alone the smooth wall in the vain hope that there’s a secret entrance somewhere, “I didn’t survive getting shot at in the backwoods of Kusa and finish that goddamn mission on time just to get locked in a fucking concrete box and miss my own wedding. I’m supposed to be getting married in, uh…” Well, he has no clue, actually. He left the house at a quarter to six, unable to sleep any longer, and his last memory is of heading for his favorite café to get some coffee on the way to the chapel. There’s no way to guess what time it is. If they got a strong enough dose of drugs, Obito might have already missed the entire damn wedding, and the thought makes the edges of his vision go crimson with fury.

“Seven hours,” Konan says unexpectedly. Obito blinks, glancing up at the opening in the wall between their cells, and wonders if Konan’s powers of mind-reading have somehow extended to clairvoyance. As if hearing the thought—it will always freak Obito out that she can do that—she makes a quiet sound of amusement and says, “It’s just after seven now. They left me my watch.”

There’s a moment of collective offended silence on eight parts, and then Kakuzu demands, “What the hell? They took my shoelaces!”

Hey guys, this is GRACE (dearmyjimin), your resident Jungkook and Jimin stan. My blog has just hit it’s first-year anniversary and I wanted to start a series of yearly follow forever posts that serve as both a personal compilation of some fav graphics of my own (so that I can track how much I’ve grown as a designer), as well as to thank everyone who has helped me in one way or another. Each and every creation was made possible because of all the support I received. I wish to thank those who follow and support me, my lovely mutuals and friends who encourage me and all the blogs I follow for decorating my dash with amazing content. I am proud to be an ARMY and to stan 7 Kings who are the sources of inspiration behind my creations ♡

my mutuals - bolded
♡ - personal message under the cut

# - F

@97x95  | @acaracahehe ♡ | @aishjimin | @apgujeon | @artofennun | @ask-bts-stuff | @ask-joonie | @bangtannoonas@bang-tan | @baobwi@beui | @beuits@bloominflowers@booptae | @bwibelle | @bwink ♡@bwipsul | @bwiyomi | @chimcheroo | @chimchams | @chimchins | @chimilkeu | @comeherejimin | @cowjimin | @cyyphr | @deartaetae | @exolutelyx​ ♡ | @fhawn | @forjimin

G - L 

@gotjhope​ | @hobuing​ | @hohbi​ | @hoseokxx| @inkcassette​ | @jeongguk​ | @jeonheart @jeonify​ | @jeonity ♡​ | @jeonsshi@jiminrolls@jimiyoong​ ♡ | @jinthebunny | @jjilljj​​ | @jjks​​ | @jpgtae​ | @junghope​ |  | @j-helpless​ | @j-cypher​ ♡ |  @kimdaily​ ♡ | @ktaebwi​ ♡ | @kthish​ ♡ | @kths​ | @kkumri​ | @kookiebuff

M - R

@nerdjoonie​ | @nikkmonoxyls​ | @noranb​ | @maengion​ | @mangaetteok​ | @maja-sinika​ | @meitiandokaixin​ ♡ | @mewchim​ ♡ | @minblush​ ♡​ | @minpuffs​ | @mintsugakookies| @mintear​ | @park-jimizzle​ ♡​ | @pawjimin​​

S - Z 

@seonmuriya | @sosjimin ♡ | @sunbaejin | @sunshine-hobi | @sevenkookiejars |  @sweaterpawsjimin | @taeguk | @taebokkii | @taenekiii | @taevisual | @thumino | @tttaehyung | @wonkkyun | @yeoongi | @yoohnseok | @yoonem | @yoongles | @yoonseok | @yoongsins ♡ | @yoonmin@war-of-hormoan@wonpei | @vmiin

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“Millennials were told that they were special, that they could be anything if they tried hard enough.”

Who were you that you were told that? Where did you grow up that you got that “just for trying” trophy everyone is speaking about? What was it like, thinking you could exceed? I lost faith in jobs in 2008 when my family lost everything. I have been working since I was 12. I never thought I was special because for every talent I had there was someone better than me. The average number of colleges applied to in my high school was 11. The average acceptance rate was 3 to 7. We knew we weren’t going to get our reach school. We knew we weren’t good enough. My friends died because of that. For every person i know who had it easy I know forty who are struggling. Who can’t afford an education or health insurance or who has to choose between feeding their family and their future. None of us ever got a trophy. And if we did it didn’t make us think we were good for trying, it made us aware we didn’t try hard enough for the real thing.

Who were you that you were never called stupid or bossy or loud or weird. Who was told that you could succeed being who you were when the rest of us had nothing. My last name meant I couldn’t be a CEO. Hispanic genes. Who were you that you never got tripped up by your sexuality, never had something denied you because of your gender. Never told to get back into the kitchen, never told that trans people are just sick. I’m just asking.

It would have been nice to have that kind of a life.

Shy Boy

Anon: Got7’s Mark smut but with him being shy so “reader” take the lead and in the end he is not as shy as he looks something like that pleaseeee.

Author: Admin M

Character(s): Mark (Got7)/Reader

Word Count: 718

Summary: Mark becomes nervous when I walk out in his present.

“Oh absolutely.” He smiles and kisses me again. “But let’s not tell my brothers.” He smiles and we both laugh.

I chuckle as I look at him. He rubs the back of his neck. I was up to him slowly.

“Oppa?” He looked up at me. “Do you not like it?” I look down at my red lingerie nervously.

Keep reading

I’m not going to be that girl. I’m not going to continuously fall in love with all of the stupid things he says and the insane lies he tells me. I’m not going to be dumb enough to believe that I’m special to him; not when every single sign says otherwise.
Let him enjoy the other girls. I am not one of those girls.
I was crazy enough to let him make me believe that he was different.
—  💜 - I’ll never do that again
Fuck Me - Dean

@saxxxology is such a fucking enabler. Happy birthday, bitch. Enjoy your series. This chapter’s for me and my fellow Dean whores.

Fun fact: both boys are their season 3 ages.

Another fun fact: I fucking hate titles so much.  All the credit to Saxxy for helping me pick a title.

Fandom: Supernatural & Harry Potter
Pairing: DADA Teacher!Dean x Student!Reader
Words: 3,671
Summary: A seventh year Hufflepuff finally decides to confess to her crush. He just happens to be her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), a teacher and student fucking (please don’t actually fuck your teachers/students, guys. Let me have my problematic kink, but don’t actually do it)
Other Parts: Sam - Dickchat

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McHanzo #45 from the drabble meme for @unlimitedpoptarts​ - “Tell me a secret.”

“Hey, Hanzo?”


Jesse rolls over to face him, the thin sheet that covers them dragging down across his hips, and Hanzo leans over to trail his fingers across the bare skin that’s exposed there, just because he can. Jesse shivers, but says resolutely, “Tell me a secret.”

Hanzo considers him, half his mind on the question and the other half on the possibility of luring Jesse into another round. He doesn’t think it would take much convincing.

“What kind of secret?”

Jesse rolls his eyes. “The secret kind.”

“I do not have any secrets,” Hanzo says with a smirk.

“Well if that ain’t the biggest load’a crap I ever heard.” Jesse nudges him onto his back, running a hand across the planes of Hanzo’s stomach. “C’mon, tell me. Just one.”

Hanzo thinks about it, distracted by the path of Jesse’s hand up his chest. “Hmm…you remember when we first met?”

“‘Course I do. You said that your first impression of Overwatch left much to be desired. And then you demanded to ‘see what I could do.’” They both laugh, and Jesse continues, “And just so you know, I never asked to be your welcomin’ committee.”

“You were not the first person I met on base.”

At Jesse’s confused look, Hanzo adds, “The first person I encountered was Hana.”

“No kiddin’? And here I always thought I was special.”

“You are,” Hanzo says softly, honest words that roll off his tongue more easily than they once would have. Jesse’s eyes light up, and he steals a kiss before Hanzo can continue, a kiss that turns into two, and three, and four. Hanzo finally pushes him back, laughing. “Do you want your secret or not?”

Jesse seems to be weighing his decision against the prospect of more kisses. Hanzo pushes him further away.

“Alright alright, I’m gettin’. So you met Hana first?”

“Yes, and you know how she is. She took one look at me and said, ‘You’re the brother, right?’ I was preparing myself for a lecture of some sort. What I got instead was a promise.”

“A promise?”

Hanzo nods. “That she had heard what some of the others said about me before I arrived, and that she would ‘have my back’ as long as I had theirs. I thought she was crazy.”

Jesse laughs. “Well, she kinda is. Good kinda crazy.”

“As most of us are, I would wager,” Hanzo says, smiling. He settles his head on Jesse’s chest, relaxing into his arms.

“And then you met me, and probably regretted agreeing to that, huh?”

“No. I met you, and you told me that you were ‘the friendly neighborhood cowboy, manning the front lines.’”

Jesse shifts beneath him, and Hanzo knows that he’s thinking, trying to find the connection. It doesn’t take him long, and when he does, he wraps his arms around Hanzo even tighter.

“You wanted to see what I could do, so you could have my back.”

“And as you know, I quickly became quite fond of what I saw.” Hanzo tilts his head and presses a kiss to Jesse’s chest. “But I may never have asked you if I had not spoken to Hana first.”

“I already owe that girl my life and now I gotta owe her my love life too? You’re killin’ me, darlin’.”

“Well, you did ask for a secret.”

Jesse huffs a laugh and says, “I was hopin’ for some kinda secret fantasy!” Hanzo laughs until he can’t breathe, clutching onto Jesse for dear life.