in other words it flopped

but since it’s canon(?) that keith and lance have rooms right next to each other: keith coming in with absolutely no warning and without a word flopping down and curling up into a little ball to nap on lance’s bed bc he doesn’t get nightmares as often in lance’s room

or lance hearing him waking from one and gently knocking on his door to be with him, rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind because the distraction helps

mini sleepovers and not meaning to fall asleep but falling asleep anyway in each other’s rooms??? keith poking fun at lance’s sleep mumbling and lance teasing keith about his light snoring??? being caught in the morning on the same bed sharing the same blanket??? it doesn’t mean anything they claim (it does tho)

“Can’t Sleep”

A crack SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

“Why are you still up?”

Simon froze.  He’d assumed Baz would be asleep by now.

“Studying,” he mumbled, “in the library.”

           Baz didn’t say anything more, so Simon tiptoed across the room and into the bathroom to get ready for bed.  His head was swimming with essay nonsense.  He hadn’t expected Penny to keep him there that long.  And anyway, he’d figured Baz would still be who-knows-where and wouldn’t be in the room to see him come in.

           A few minutes later Simon emerged from the bathroom and flopped onto his bed.  Baz seemed to be asleep, or at least he didn’t say anything.  Simon crawled under the covers and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.  He didn’t seem to be able to close his eyes.  Or he could, but not properly.  They didn’t stay closed.  His mind was still too awake.  He turned over and tried to get comfortable, forced his eyes shut.  Quiet thoughts, he chanted in his head, sleepy thoughts.  But everything he thought of turned to words, and all the words were strung together like something out of a very surreal dictionary.  He flopped onto his other side.  The words prattled on like strings of code.

           Finally, he simply sat up in bed.  This wasn’t working.  He bunched up his pillow in his lap and leaned on it.  His head hung forward, curls falling in front of his eyes. It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired, he was exhausted.  Any position would have been comfortable right now.  But his brain wasn’t having it.

           “What are you doing?”

           Simon jumped at Baz’s curious voice.

           “Just can’t sleep.”  He waited for Baz to retort with something along the lines of well neither can I with all the racket you’re making.  But the scathing reply didn’t come.

           Instead, Baz sat up, too.  

           “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

           Okay, this is weird.

           “I can’t turn my brain off.”

           “That’s new, normally you can’t turn your brain on.

           There it was.

           “Sorry,” Baz muttered, “I don’t know why I said that.”

           “You must be tired.  I was expecting an insult much earlier.”  

           Then Baz did something Simon wasn’t expecting: he smiled.  It was hard to see, but it was there.

           He had a nice smile, when it was genuine. Soft and shy.  It made Simon smile, too.

           “It’s also kind of cold in here,” he added.

           “Three guesses why.”

           Simon shrugged unapologetically.  He had left the window open again.  He always left the window open.  It was closed now, thanks to Baz no doubt, but their room hadn’t had a chance to warm up yet.

           “Just go back to sleep,” Simon told him.  “I’ll be fine.”

           Baz was quiet for a minute.  A long minute.  It wouldn’t have felt so long if the air hadn’t been charged with something unsaid.  It made Simon curious, because he felt sure that he had nothing to say.  

           So what did Baz want to say?

           “You alright?” Simon asked.

           Baz thought for a second longer, then pulled back a corner of his covers and glanced shyly up at Simon.

           “What?” Simon stammered.

           “You said you were cold.” Baz was so quiet he was almost unintelligible.

           What the heck was going on?  Simon hated Baz and Baz hated Simon.  That had always been their relationship.  Maybe it wasn’t one that Simon enjoyed or got much validation from, but that was just them. And what’s more, Baz was undoubtedly the meaner of the two of them, never hesitating to hit Simon exactly where he knew it would hurt the most.

           So why in the world was Baz being nice to him?

           It’s some sort of trick.

           Shut up, Simon told himself.

           He stood.  He moved forward.

           And before he knew it, he was curled up under Baz’s covers, drowning in a warm, heady smell like Christmas.  Cedar trees and citrus.  

           Instantly his head was full of nothing but that smell, like he was drifting through a cloud of it.

           His eyes closed involuntarily, and now they stayed closed.

           “Baz?” he murmured sleepily.


           “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

           There was a pause.

           And then he felt Baz take him in his arms and draw him close.  “Me neither.”

           “Let’s stop then.”

           “We can’t.”

           “Why not?”

           Baz didn’t say anything.

           “We don’t have to fight,” Simon sighed, burying his face in the hollow of Baz’s neck.  “We could just…”

           “Just what?” Baz’s voice came from above Simon’s ears, from somewhere in his curls.


           In the last second before Simon drifted off, he felt Baz’s throat hum as he answered.


On the Constitution

The tl;dr preface to this is that I posted some stuff that made pew pew people very upset. I, like literally all of you, don’t have all the answers to this very unique situation in which we’re the only country that has this easy access to guns and this many shootings, along with people trying to say those two are unrelated.

Originally posted by lifetimetv

This is not an anti-gun blog, I post about law school and the lawyering profession. So in that spirit, I would like to talk about the Constitution in light of the MANY misguided comments made.

You see, the Constitution is great and all that, but also, it kinda isn’t. This is coming from an actual lawyer who swore to protect it. Yeah, I will. But it doesn’t mean I think it’s perfect. Neither were the Founding Fathers. The Founding Fathers were 30, 40-something white dudes basically opening a start-up. And they had to put stuff down. I don’t think they were any smarter or more moral than lots of legal minds we have today. And they definitely were not psychics who could see the future and account for everything. I’m sure they had fun, though.

Originally posted by independent-chapstick

What makes the Constitution and Constitutional Law so interesting is how the judicial system forces itself to work within it, because yes, you need SOME rules or it’d be CHAOS. It comes down to interpretation.

It’s kind of like this - we have a set of rules in a kindergarten class. And one of them says:

Be Nice to Your Friends.

Solid rule. Now, it does NOT technically say, you can’t take your classmate Billy’s toy. You’re not friends with Billy. You don’t even like the dude. You hate him. He sucks. But then you took his toy, and awesome, there is nothing in the class rules that says you can’t take stuff from classmates. If you really want to get philosophical, you may question whether taking a mind-numbing toy that does no good for childhood development away from a dumb kid who has too many toys anyway would necessary be in violation of “be nice.”

Originally posted by mydearleonardo

But we all know, this rule will be and should be INTERPRETED to mean many more things: 1) being “nice” includes not taking things that don’t belong to you; and 2) “Friends” extends to classmates in your class, because if we interpreted it as only your friends, that’s just really bad public policy. How do you define “friend”? How would you prove or disprove it? And do we really want kids being shitty to each other for no reason?

The easier thing to do here is to interpret the rule in a way that applies to this situation, which is what SCOTUS most often does. But at some point if you get too many fights about it, you can just make a new rule that says No Taking Things That Don’t Belong To You. No big deal.

Originally posted by heckyeahreactiongifs

So there have been amendments to the Constitution, and many of these amendments, and mixtures thereof, have been used/interpreted to mean a bunch of things. We’ve used it to allow for both shitty and not-shitty things throughout the years. Public sentiment and politics play a large role on this. Plessy v. Ferguson allowed segregation, and Brown v. Board of Education disallowed it. Flippity flop. In other words, it’s not the Constitution and its amendments, but how we decide to interpret it as a country. This definitely had me sort of rolling my eyes in class, because you can see what sort of creative arguments the justices had to make to justify interpreting certain decisions that way. And this is why we have dissents - very long ones - from SCOTUS justices. SCOTUS justices, who (for the most part, ehem) are extremely qualified legal minds, disagree with one another.

Originally posted by profeminist

Also, amendments get repealed. And I mean…they’re called amendments. The 18th amendment banned drinking and the 21st un-did it. Also, the original frame of the Constitution restricted Congress from limiting importation of SLAVES. We had to get amendments in place to abolish slavery.

Calling the rights given by the Constitution as “God-given” is laughable at best. The Founding Fathers were not deities. They probably never thought we would have transgender people or automatic rifles. For a start-up doc, the Constitution was pretty lacking - for one thing, it didn’t even define who was eligible to vote. So states only allowed white males with property to vote.

Originally posted by plumkat

So no, I don’t really care for the 2nd Amendment. I know what this means. I don’t think it’s as important a right as the right to be able to walk around, go to country music concerts, send your kids to school, go out to a night club, etc. without the fear that someone might come and shoot semi-automatic rifles at me/my loved ones. It’s not the guns, right, it’s the people. It’s the people who are crazy/evil, except in America it’s shockingly easy for them to get a semi-automatic rifle vs. in another country.

The people who are upset/annoyed with me about this, I get it, but don’t think of the Constitution/any amendment as this immovable, holy thing. It’s not. It’s a set of rules, and rules change.

The supply run

Let the challenge times continue :) this is for @ravengirl94 and her 1,500 follower celebration ( which she totally deserves btw) My dialogue prompt is bolded :) Also this flips between the reader and Dean’s P.O.V’s - never written a fic in this style before so have tried to make the change in P.O.V as clear as possible if only for my own benefit!

Word count: 1,970

Characters: Dean Winchester x wife reader, Sam Winchester, the obligatory douche-y monster 

Warnings: kidnapping, injury to reader, little bit of swearing

It had been a quiet few days for the Winchesters.
Sam had used the time to continue with re-organising the extensive collection of lore stored in the Men of Letters bunker. Dean had given baby a full tune up and clean. And Y/N? After first sorting out piles of laundry and cleaning out the fridge and all of their duffels, she had a supply run to make.

Stepping into the garage, Y/N found the elder brother going through the impala’s trunk and the impressive arsenal kept stashed away. Not wanting to make him jump in the one place Dean felt he could truly let his guard down, you let out a soft sigh and groan as you walk over to him.
“Hey handsome. I’m making a run into town – want anything?”
Putting the gun he had just emptied of bullets down to the side, Dean reached for Y/N and pulled her into the gap between his legs as he leaned against the car’s trunk.
“If you’re going near the ammo shop we could do with a couple more boxes of shotgun shells. That ghost on the last hunt near enough cleaned us out of our whole stash.”
“On the list. Anything else?”
Dean chuckled as he brushed aside a lock of your hair to whisper in your ear “Don’t forget the pie.”
“Hey” you replied, “Sam is the one who forgets the pie, not me.”
“Then how come you never bring any home?” Dean shoots back, pulling you up with him as he stands and stretches.
“Because Winchester, I bring home the stuff needed to make pie” you smirked up at him.
“And that is why I married you” Dean said as he kissed your temple. “That truck over there is all good to go. I fixed the engine up a couple of weeks back.”
“Keys are in there?” Y/N asked. Dean nodded, and you quickly bounce up onto your tip toes to plant 2 kisses, one to Dean’s lips and another on his cheek. “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone”. 

Keep reading

Hades and Persephone

“I’ve been in love with you the first time I’ve saw you.”

My voice cracked, I was never good at this kind of thing. I sat across from Candice and clutched her hands. Her perfect, smooth hands that still smelled of her favorite vanilla lotion. Her nails were angel white and perfectly curved, fingers interlaced and perfectly still…

Thanks to the silk rope tying together her wrists.

Keep reading

So I read all of Carry On in a day and then wrote this (set before SnowBaz goes canon and also I modified the situation because I am an author fuck off)

Baz POV:

I haven’t slept in weeks. Well, one week, 6 days, and 21 hours to be exact. I can usually just suck it up, but I think the mental exhaustion might be catching up to me as well. It’s been one week, 6 days, and 17 hours of being around Snow again, but I still don’t quite feel grounded. Pun not intended. You know, because of the whole stuck-in-a-coffin thing and all. The only thing that kept me sane in there was the thought of him, that cheeky, insufferable, obnoxious, moronic, god-awfully handsome Chosen One. 

I still don’t feel safe.

It’s midnight, and he’s long since fell asleep. I switch the side I’m laying on for the 47th time so that I’m facing him. His bronze hair is spiralling all over his pillow and covering the top half of his face, so that I can only see his drooping mouth. How peaceful. He hasn’t had a nightmare tonight yet. I, on the other hand, seem to be living one. Every single night, for the past almost-14 days, I’ve been here, just a foot or so away from him, as he sleeps and I suffer. I wish I could kiss him - right there, next to his lip. That mole seems to mock me every night I stare at it. His hair too, it just looks so soft. If I just reached out a hand, I could touch him…

Before I can think about what I’m doing, my arm is outstretched, my fingers just millimeters away from his curls, and tears are beginning to pour down the side of my face. 

“Simon…I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this…” I’m whispering, barely making a sound; the pads of my fingers are grazing his bangs. His nose twitches ever-so-slightly. “I’m just so fucking lost…” I gently curl his hair around my pointer finger, but still he doesn’t stir. “How can you be what’s keeping me sane and making me lose my mind at the exact same time?” My voice cracks a bit. His hair is silky-smooth. 

Suddenly, he flips over on his side. My arm is still outstretched, crossing over the gap between our beds. For a moment I think he’s awake, that he was listening and is angry with me. Then I think that he’s so disgusted, he doesn’t even have a furious remark to throw at me. 

I wait.

He stays still.

I let out a breath.

And then, he swivels his legs over the far side of his bed and stands up. I snatch my hand back so quickly I get carpet burn from the blanket. Simultaneously, I shut my eyelids so tight I think I’ll surely squash my eyeballs underneath them. Two footsteps. A slight grunt. The sound of furniture being dragged on the floor. For just a split-second, I dare to flick one eyelid open to see what he’s doing - and I see that he’s moved his bed over and closed the gap. Forgetting myself in shock, I open my other eye and furrow my brow. Without a single word, he flops back onto the plush feather mattress and faces me, eyes open, wearing a look I don’t recognize.

Then, just as if none of that ever happened, he closes his eyes.

And pulls me into him, burrowing my face in his chest and resting the chin I’ve spent years memorizing on top of my head. 

For a moment, I wonder if he just wants to feel taller than me. That is, of course, the one moment I had before losing all capability of coherent thought.

I sleep soundly that night.


FiKi Day Five: Alternate Universe: Foxy Dwarves

This silly little universe is co-created with linane-art.  :)  And yes, there may be more little ficlets in the future!


Kíli knew, of course, that his brother had to practice his alternate form daily.  Everyone did, in the early days, and even a lot of the adults chose to spend an hour or so as foxes each day.  But it felt-


They’d been together their whole lives.  And now, just because he was younger, Kíli had finally been left behind.  He wouldn’t find out what his fox looked like for another five years, at best – Fíli had changed earlier than most, which meant it could be even longer before Kíli would be able to run the forest with Fíli and their mother.

Kíli sighed and curled up on his bed, feeling terribly lonely for the first time in his life.  

He felt his ears droop and didn’t even try to stop them, stubbornly ignoring all of Thorin’s warnings about letting his fox features give him away.  Today, if his ears wanted to pout and his tail wanted to curve in tight, he was going to let them.  

Kíli closed his eyes tight and tried not to think about what it must feel like to run through the forest on four feet, following the scent of small prey, warm despite the snow thanks to thick, luxurious fur.

Something warm pushed under his hand.

Kíli opened his eyes and looked down.  

Fíli blinked up at him.  

Everyone had known Fíli would be a beautiful fox – while red was the most common color outside the line of Durin, which tended to silvers and blacks, Fíli had been born with pale red-blond ears and a tail in the same color, tipped by white.  But he really was gorgeous and unusual, the ruff around his shoulders thicker than the rest of his fur, and his eyes the same blue as his dwarf counterpart.  

Kíli’d seen him, of course; he’d been there for the first change, seen the shock and pain in his brother’s eyes – wanted to help but had to stand back as Fíli’s body reshaped itself into his Other for the first time.  But Fíli’d been immediately whisked away, and now, several weeks later, was the first time Kíli had seen him so close.

“What do you want?” he grumped.

Fíli made a soft noise in his throat and pushed at his hand again, making it slide down his nose a bit.

“You could just turn into a dwarf and we could have a normal conversation.”

Fíli nipped his thumb.


If a fox could roll his eyes, Fíli did; then he repeated the motion of lifting Kíli’s hand with his nose and sliding it gently down his muzzle.

Kíli sighed and gently stroked his fingers along the pointed nose, over his brother’s head, scratching behind his ear in the secret place Fíli loved in dwarf form, too.  He was…soft.  Softer, Kíli thought, than mother’s black fox form, more silky.  

It figured Fíli would not only change early, but be beautiful, unusual, and pet-able as well.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off running in the woods and doing fox things while I sit here staring at the wall?” Kíli asked moodily.  

The fox’s mouth opened in a little grin, and Fíli wiggled up over Kíli’s crossed knees to plop into his lap.  

Kíli bit his lip.  “This is cruel,” he muttered.  “You know I can’t change too.”

Fíli could have changed back into a dwarf – of course he could, one form didn’t rule the other – but instead he pushed up and bumped his head against Kíli’s chin.

The fox couldn’t talk.  Dwarves who changed tried on a fairly regular basis to explain how the fox form’s mind worked – how you were yourself and yet different, but it never made sense to anyone who hadn’t yet found his fox.  Fíli’d tried, the first night, but it came out sounding like riddles.

And yet-

Another bump, a soft noise, almost a bark but not quite, and those blue eyes were looking at him with the same concern they always did.  

“…Are you trying to baby me?  While you’re a fox?”

Fíli grinned – there was no other word for it – and flopped playfully onto his back, feet in the air.  His right front foot was snowy white and the others blond.  

“You’re not my pet, Fíli.”

Fíli wagged his tail.

“And you can’t just make everything better by acting like one.”

Fíli thumped him in the chin with one paw.  

“I’m still pissed I can’t change yet.”

Fíli lifted his head and gently took Kíli’s hand in his sharp new teeth-then bit down.


Fili looked unrepentant.   In fact, he looked pleased, and how Kíli could read his brother’s expression on that pointy face he had no idea – but he could and, despite himself, he laughed.

“Okay, FINE.  I’ll scratch your belly and let you distract me this once, but never again.”  Gently, with something that felt a bit like awe, he rested his hand on the narrow expanse of Fíli’s chest – so much more delicate than his square, muscular brother was in his dwarf form.  Carefully, he dug in his fingers in a light scratch.

Fíli’s eyes fell half shut and, to Kíli’s extreme amusement, his left back leg started to wiggle a bit.

“Your leg never did that as a dwarf,” he teased, and Fíli’s eyes narrowed at him.

Of course, Kíli had never, ah, scratched his brother’s chest before, but that didn’t mean he’d never petted Fíli.  Family members always helped with the maintenance of ears and tail.  When they were small, Kíli had considered Fíli’s tail his personal property.  Whenever they were somewhere crowded, their mother would order him to stay close to his brother – and what better way to stay close than to grab his fluffy blond tail and hold on, despite his 12 year old brother’s loud protests?

(That he’d also been known to hug Fíli’s tail in his sleep was something Kíli both vehemently denied and swore Fíli to silence about.)

“Oh, and when I do get my fox form-”  Fíli opened his eyes and yipped, looking up at Kíli’s own Durin-dark ears, “-you’re going to pay for that bite.”

Fíli didn’t look particularly frightened.

Mixers, Directioners, 5SOSFam, Selenators, and Harmonizers confession by anonymous

“Mixers, Directioners, the 5SOSfam, Selenators and tons of other fandoms have all had their differences at one point or another but what we can all agree on is that Harmonizers are the worst fandom ever! They bully and threaten other fandoms all the time and use the word ‘flop’ like it’s the only one they know. It’s such as shame though because 5H actually seems alright.”

My personal reasons why I support Luhan in his desire to leave EXO, and why he is different compared to WYF in my eyes

So, twitter is an emotional war zone, but compared to Kris’ departure, it’s less hectic and emotionally wired. However, people piss me off (more than usual; i am always pissed). Today, it’s the people who are saying, “For all you who called Kris a traitor then, you have no right to say this or that about Luhan!” or “IF YOU CALLED KRIS A TRAITOR, WHAT NOW”.

As I sat in my modest living room eating, I wondered: “WHY AM I NOT MAD AT LUHAN FOR LEAVING LIKE I WAS ANGRY AT KRIS” and it took a while, but I eventually got it.

  • He left AFTER TLP
  • He left when there was no promos to do(like WYF & Overdose)
  • He left BEFORE promos for an album (Exo’s comeback)
  • The members seemed to be AWARE of his decision (Yixing’s response; their understanding; everyone understands that he has been sick)

My point being is that he was considerate to the people he knew would be affected, and that, to me is respect. NO SHADE.

Now, on the argument about Kris and yadda yadda me not having the right to say i support you luhan blah blah blaaah, here’s the thing:

  • Kris disappeared on Exo multiple times
  • His leaving seemed orchestrated
  • Kris left DURING pormotions
  • He left A WEEK before TLP, which caused people to become burdened by his actions; redoing dance, lighting, audio, etc etc
  • His reason was also concerning his health, BUT LETS BE HONEST, NO. His priority reason was $$$.
  • The members were obviously shocked (Sehun’s ?)
  • It was SO CLEAR that his tactic for making an exit was to make as much ruckus and suprise as he could in order to gain sympathy for HIM and to GAIN ATTENTION for him and his future new career.

In other words, Kris flopped like a fish in order to create as much splash and splatter as he could–AND I KNOW A LOT OF PEOPLE DISAGREE / WILL DISAGREE WITH ME.

You can hail WYF all you want, you can defend him, his actions, his motives, his shade, whatever. This is my point in explaining why I am NOT angry at Luhan for leaving, that I see him as a better and more mature individual than the last one who left. I consider Luhan to be considerate and that leaving SM is TRULY for his best benefit (health wise) and that he is not doing this for $$$ gain.

Should I even note that SM sucks because that’s a given