invite them up

when ur hanging out in ur apartment u’ve got some candles lit ur feeling good u’ve had 8 glasses of wine then down in the street u hear two beautiful boys skateboarding or doing flips or something so u invite them up and they say where’s the bed and they ask if they can sit on the bed and u tell them sure but the sheets are expensive japanese linen and they tell u they’re not even soft:

inktail  asked:

I've got a soft spot for Steve recovering pieces of his past. Imagine some great grand cousins on the Rogers side contacting Steve, showing him pictures of his father, to see if that's really who they think it is?

Tony had told him not to go, because it’s the twenty-first century, Cap.  Anyone can seem like they’re honest.  It’s a scam. Don’t go.

Steve had gone.  

(Natasha had handed him a manila folder without a word and Steve hadn’t needed it, was going to go anyway, because he’d known the man was honest, he didn’t need Natasha’s background-check-ancestry.com-spy-skills to prove it.)   

They met in a café, small and out of the way.  The man was reserved, with an average build, but he had a wry quirk to his mouth, the same square to his jaw.  

His name was Joseph (call me Joe) and they muscled through stilted small talk for several minutes before Joe caved (Steve never said he was always the brave one).

“I brought –I thought you might like to see these.  It’s why I tried to contact you in the first place.” Joe produced an envelope with a handful of black and white pictures in them, edges worn but lovingly kept.  “I think we’re…” Joe paused.  “…cousins.” 

Steve sifted through them carefully: a man in a military uniform with a serious set to his mouth, sporting the jaw that Steve and Joe seemed to have inherited; the same man and a woman smiling, the man in his uniform and a slight woman –a slight –Steve’s mother- in a white dress.   

“That – that’s my mother.”  Steve set the third picture down carefully. “Where did you get these?”

The ghost of a smile was hovering on Joe’s lips.  “My mother.  Her grandmother had a brother that died young, in the First World War.  I didn’t think much of it until I saw-“

“-The Smithsonian.”

“Yeah.” Joe smiled.  “I just thought,” he motioned to his face, “there’s some similarities and what they had on your family, it wasn’t much, but it looked like the woman in the wedding pictures.”  He shrugged. “I thought it’d be worth a shot.” 

Steve smiled.  “I’m glad you did.  I didn’t realize I had any family.  It was always Ma and me, and then…just me.”

Something shifted in Joe’s face that Steve recognized as what Sam called his Stubborn Ass Resolve face.  

“Look, I know you probably have plans or invitations, but my wife and I host Thanksgiving every year.  We always have room for more family.”

Steve sipped his coffee in an effort to distract from the itch in his eyes and be sure his voice would hold. 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’d like that.”

3

Crisis - S2 E21

mkes  asked:

How about more with Steve's long lost cousin? Do we get to see him actually go to Thanksgiving dinner at Joe's house?

Steve wasn’t sure what to expect. Joe was quiet and calm. Like you when you’re not raising hell. Sam had said after he first met Joe. But he didn’t know his wife and children or other relatives.

“I’m prepping them.” Joe said. “Don’t worr–oh, oh -aww.” Joe was more of a Yankees fan, but they watched the Giants together when they could.  Even when Steve was overseas.

“That should’ve been a flag.” Steve agreed. He’d found a bar that was playing the game. He had one more day before he was due back in New York and he figured he’d spend it enjoying himself.

“Yeah. -And before you ask, just bring yourself. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah, I’m back tomorrow.”

“Enjoy the rest of your super hush-hush trip.”

**

So here he was, standing just inside the door of Joe’s home with about a dozen relatives staring at him and trying not to.

It was a little blue-eyed, curly-haired girl (Joe’s youngest, he thought) that broke the tension, doubt curving her tiny mouth: “You gotta lot less wrinkles ‘n I thought.”

After that, it was a rush of introductions and laughter (and food, they had an incredible spread).  Later on, with Joe’s youngest (Sarah, he was delighted to discover) dozing in his lap, they looked through photo albums, catching him up on the family he’d missed.

Cecelia, Joe’s wife, held up her phone. “And all the photos I took today I’m going to add in, too, you know. You need to be in these albums too, Steve.”

Steve smiled, and felt full in a way that didn’t have anything to do with the five servings he’d had.

a concept: raven gets her own show about her surviving in becca’s lab and the only people who are with her are luna (bc sea mechanic duh), miller, (you need a guard) jackson (doctor), and monty (her best friend/engineer/minty shall rise) bc why not. and then they ride out the radiation and they shows up again and everyone is amazed and she’s finally happy and loved and these characters who deserve better are loved and all is good. 

audreycritter  asked:

I'm on mobile, and I don't know if this is where you usually take prompts, but I'll request Tim and Bruce. Bonus points if it includes the line, "One of us is going to have to sleep eventually."

This is officially my favourite thing I have ever written. Thank you so much for the prompt :D

They’re at a stalemate, have been for days now. All because Bruce had dared to suggest Tim stop drinking coffee and get some sleep. A reasonable suggestion, Alfred had assured him, since Tim is, after all, only fourteen years old and much too dependant on caffeine to keep him going than anyone should be. Unfortunately, Tim hadn’t seen it that way.

No. Tim had slowly lowered his newly-filled coffee cup from his lips and stared at him until Bruce had shifted uncomfortably. Then he had smiled sweetly and asked mildly, “Are you going to take your own advice?”

And that’s where Bruce went wrong, Alfred was quick to point out six hours later when he came down to invite them up for breakfast. Because he should have just said yes, poured his own coffee down the sink and gone to catch a few hours sleep between his thousand-thread-count sheets. But he didn’t. Because Bruce is a grown adult dammit. And more than that; Bruce is the goddamn Batman. He couldn’t just give in to the sass of a teenager, even if that teenager is a sleep-deprived, more-caffeine-than-blood Robin. 

His second mistake had been saying something of that effect to Tim, who had rolled his eyes and taken another gulp of coffee before stating that he wouldn’t stop drinking coffee, nor would he sleep, until Bruce did so as well.

So here they are.

Three days later.

And Bruce is beginning to regret his entire life.

(“Nothing new there,” the painfully Jason-like voice in his head snorts.

Bruce reminds himself hallucinations are normal after forty-eight to seventy-two hours with no sleep.)

“One of us is going to have to sleep eventually,” Bruce sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, looking sidelong at Tim’s equally mussed locks.

Tim takes a pointed sip of his lukewarm coffee. “I vote you.“ 

From somewhere in the depths of the Cave, Alfred sighs and mutters something about stubborn fools. Followed a moment later by a louder rumination about good role models. Bruce chooses to chalk that one up to auditory hallucinations; Alfred generally prefers to give useful yet sarcastic advice to his face.

"Don’t you have school?” he wonders in Tim’s direction, sure the boy had vanished form the cave for several hours each day but not entirely sure that’s where he’d gone. “Don’t your teachers ever question why you look so exhausted?”

The teen glances up from the case files he’s poring over to give Bruce a flat stare - he wears the expression so often Bruce is beginning to think it’s just his resting face. (You know, if he ever rested.) “Yes. And I tell them it’s because the hours I should be spent sleeping are spent running across Gotham’s rooftops in tights,” he deadpans.

Bruce blinks.

Tim blinks.

Alfred sighs. Bruce knows it’s definitely real this time because he’s suddenly standing behind them with a tray “More coffee, sirs?” he offers drily. “Or have you seen sense yet?”

Tim takes a mug and sniffs it warily, nose crinkling in disgust before he hastily sets it back on the tray. “That isn’t coffee, Alfred, it’s decaf.” He sounds so outraged that Bruce laughs. It may or may not be a touch hysterical.

“I’ll have you know, Master Timothy, that you’ve been drinking decaf for the last two days.”

“Hah!” Bruce points a mocking finger at his young partner. “Alfred wins.”

“I wasn’t aware I was even playing,” Alfred comments over Tim’s indignant, “You’ve been drinking it too!”

That makes Bruce pause, his sleep-deprived mind working over the facts of the Case of the Decaf Coffee. He frowns into his near-empty mug as realisation washes over him. “We both lost,” he tells the unfaithful liquid. It ripples ambiguously.

“I’ll just get a blanket then,” Alfred is saying, “Perhaps a pillow as well…”

And when Bruce looks up, blinking sluggishly, several minutes have passed and Tim is fast asleep, as though the very suggestion that his bloodstream had no caffeine in it was enough to knock him out, head cushioned on his folded arms, an errant sticky note stuck to his ear. Bruce reaches out to poke him just to be sure he isn’t foxing, but his hand doesn’t quite make it, flopping onto the table and brushing Tim’s fingers with his own. Then his eyes slide shut and he too is asleep.

(They find out several hours later - at a more reasonable hour of the morning - that not only did Alfred win, he cheated. The last mugs of coffee were laced with a mild sedative. Bruce can’t even bring himself to be more than a little irritated because at least Tim finally slept.)

Patater Week (Feb 6) Get Together

you know how i said i wasn’t doing this

apparently i am a liar.

(all the week’s fics will go onto ao3)

They literally slam into each other at a roller rink.

It’s a You Can Play benefit thing for kids. Kent’s too busy watching to make sure he doesn’t run over one of the mini-tots that he completely misses the giant headed in his direction. And you would think, wouldn’t you, that a guy whose career involved balancing on knives on ice would take a check on skates as well as he did in an ice rink, but nope. Kent hits Alexei Mashkov head-on and sends them both into a pile on the ground.

The icing on the cake is Kent’s arm clotheslining a six-year-old on the way down.

So now he and Tater are both sitting on the side of the roller skating rink, holding matching cold packs to their faces while a small child stuffs tissues up his nose to stop the bleeding.

“I’mb gonna tell everybody at school that Kent Parsob hit by face!” the kid tells Kent happily, oblivious to his dad’s efforts to keep him from talking and thereby snorting blood everywhere.

Kent gives him a weak thumbs up. At his side, Alexei makes a noise that might actually be a giggle.

“You so cute with kids,” Alexei says.

Damn language barriers, Kent thinks. “You mean I’m good with kids. And I’m not that great. They just like me because I’m ridiculous.”

“You are very ridiculous,” Alexie agrees. “But I’m choose right word, ‘cute.’ You are cute being with kids.”

Kent thinks the head-on collision must have knocked something loose in both their heads. He twists sideways and gapes, the effect of which is probably lost due to the ice pack covering half his face. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

Keep reading

Why Sherlock Remembers George Clooney
  • *Sherlock is lying on Molly's sofa, while she's in her kitchen making tea. He emerges from his mind palace just as Molly's phone, which is on the coffee table, rings. Sitting up, he glances at it and sees her phone wallpaper. She arrives with the tea and ignores the call.*
  • Sherlock: *casually* Caroline's setting you up again?
  • Molly: *unsurprised* Yeah. I'm still traumatised from my last date with one of her so-called friends. *shudders*
  • Sherlock: *sips from his mug* I thought you were into that Hiddleston actor and that Cumberbatch actor?
  • Molly: *stunned for a second* Yeah. *turns to him* You remember that?
  • Sherlock: *ignores her question* So who's the new man on your phone wallpaper? I never pegged you as someone that's into much older men. And who's the woman?
  • Molly: *giggles* Oh, that's George Clooney. I've had a crush on him since 'ER'. *sees his blank expression* That was an American medical drama series. Anyway, he's also a director, screenwriter, activist, and humanitarian. And the woman he's with is Amal Alamuddin––well, Clooney now, since they just got married. She's a barrister that specialises in international law and human rights.
  • Sherlock: *mumbles* My brother might know her.
  • Molly: *excitedly* Really?! Do you think Mycroft could let me meet them?
  • Sherlock: *annoyed* For God's sake, Molly. You're not a teenager anymore.
  • Molly: What? *pouting* I just want to meet them and tell him how much I loved him in 'ER'. I'm not going to steal him from her.
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* Let me guess... he's one of the reasons you decided to become a doctor?
  • Molly: *laughs* Well, not really. You know I've always wanted to be a doctor. But, for a time, I wanted to be a paediatrician because of George Clooney's character.
  • Sherlock: *gives her a small smile* Barts should be immensely grateful that you changed your mind.
  • Molly: They are. And their gratitude comes in the form of promotions and pay raises, which is really nice.
  • Sherlock: *clears his throat* Mycroft is also thankful. Probably.
  • Molly: So are your parents. Your mum knitted me a scarf for the first Christmas you were away dismantling Moriarty's network. And she's always inviting me to spend a weekend at their cottage.
  • Sherlock: *raises an eyebrow* Really? What about Mycroft? How has my brother expressed his gratitude for everything you've done for me and my family?
  • Molly: *shrugs*
  • Sherlock: *gasps in shock* What?! Not even a half-hearted 'thank you'?
  • Molly: Well...
  • Sherlock: *sits back, furious on her behalf* I don't even know why I'm surprised. But I can't believe that that pompous arse didn't even bother to thank you!
  • Molly: *rolls her eyes* Says the man who never thanked me until I told him to and who brought me out to solve cases with him when his best friend was mad at him.
  • Sherlock: You said you had a lovely day!
  • Molly: I did!
  • Sherlock: And our crime-solving day WAS always my way of saying thank you. John being angry with me was just a coincidence. *crosses his arms* At least I did something to thank you properly.
  • Molly: *smiles* And I appreciate it, Sherlock.
  • Sherlock: *uncrosses his arms* *stands up and takes his phone out of his pocket* I'm going to yell at him until he—
  • Molly: *sighs* He gave me updates while you were away!
  • Sherlock: *sits back down* But he never—
  • Molly: You weren't supposed to know. Anyway, he offered me anything in exchange for my help. But I only asked for updates. It wasn't even a regular thing. Just... when he noticed I'd been worrying too much about you or when something significant happened.
  • Sherlock: *puts his phone back in his pocket* Like when I got injured.
  • Molly: Well, yeah. He didn't tell me about Serbia or that you were coming back though.
  • Sherlock: Oh. *after a brief silence* Well, he was probably busy with my return.
  • Molly: I get that. Plus our reunion in the locker room wouldn't have been as... pleasant as it was if I'd known you were coming back.
  • Sherlock: *chuckles* Yeah, the look on your face screamed 'pleasant'.
  • Molly: *blushes* Shut up! *rolls her eyes and smirks at him*
  • Sherlock: *smirks back*
4

[distant sound of Okuyasu crying out of jealousy]

one of my favorite simon headcanons is his lil pudgy belly, like we know that at the beginning of the school year he’s all skinny and drawn out but a year or two after watford, baz has been taking damn good care of his boy, and you can’t eat all those scones without a price. and maybe he’s a lil self conscious bc come on, baz is built af, that’s not even a question, and baz will just poke him in his squishy tummy and kiss it and tell him how beautiful he is and how stupid it is to think that a few extra pounds could make him any less beautiful. simon will blush because yeah, maybe he’s gained a few pounds (or a lot of pounds) and maybe he’s not as fit as he could be and maybe he doesn’t look like a cover model and maybe has a muffin top when he wears skinny jeans and in tight t-shirts u can see his lil tummy pooch but baz still loves him and that’s what counts, right? jeez I just have so many feelings

anonymous asked:

Can I possibly have the UT, UF, and SF skelebros reacting to their S/O's seemingly best friend flirting with them and trying to seduce them away?

UT!Sans:

Sans has noticed the flirting, but he’s a pretty chill dude.  And not only that, but he trusts you.  He’s not going to give your best friend a Bad Time, or even ask how you feel about them or point out the flirting.  Instead, he’s going to shrug it off (and maybe make a couple of puns about them needing something to quench their thirst), but overall, he’s not going to do anything differently.  You chose him; you’re not going anywhere.  And if you happen to decide you want your best friend, well… whatever makes you happy.  

UT!Papyrus:

Papyrus is completely oblivious to most of the flirting.  He just thinks your best friend is super friendly, and that makes him like them, too!  He ends up inviting them to hang out with the both of you all the time–and they even get to tag along on your dates.  If you happen to point out to him that you suspect your best friend may have feelings for you, he won’t be phased in the slightest.  

“OF COURSE THEY DO!  YOU’RE VERY GREAT, AND QUITE THE CATCH!  I WOULD BE MORE SURPRISED IF THEY DIDN’T!”  

He’s not bothered in the slightest.  Like Sans, Papyrus doesn’t worry about you leaving him.  After all, you’re in a CAGE OF PASSION AND MADLY IN LOVE, so why would you choose anyone else?  Of course, if you decide that you’d rather be with your best friend, Papyrus will be heart-broken, but understand.  He’ll even insist on being friends.  

He just wants you to be happy.

UF!Sans:

Red’s not letting this fly.  

He’s going to be all over you whenever you’re bestie’s around, to the point where the PDA becomes a bit much.  You’re going to be in his lap, and he’s going to make DAMN SURE that it’s clear who you belong to.  This means that his love bites are going to start being more and more visible; you used to be able to hide them beneath your shirt, but now, they’re clearly on the side of your neck.

It’s annoying because dammit you have to go to work, but Sans is too irritated to care.  He points out the flirting to you, and if you wave it off as absurd, he’ll just get annoyed and confront your friend directly.

“listen pal… i know what you’re doin’ here.  ya really think that’s gonna work?  y/n chose me.  they’re mine.  and i don’t take kindly to ya disrepectin’ that.  but whatever.  if ya keep testin’ me, well…”  

He leans in, his eyesockets becoming dark.

i ’ m   g o n n a   h a v e   a   g r e a t   t i m e.”  

UF!Papyrus:

“NO!  THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!  THIS BEHAVIOR WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!”

At even the slightest hint that your bestie has feelings for you–or, at the very least, would like to bang you–Edge is foot-stomping furious.  He does NOT share, and every time they touch you, even if it’s casual, he’s quick to stomp over and separate the two of you.  There was a time when your bestie had their arm around you, and he grabbed their wrist and physically removed their arm.  Nope.  Not happening.  

Even if you insist that your friendship has always been like that–that it’s nothing to worry about–Papyrus is going to scowl, pout, and fight with you.  He has no qualms about calling your best friend out, and if the behavior doesn’t change, or if you push Edge too hard, he’s going to give you an ultimatum and make you choose.

SF!Sans:

Blackberry barely even wants you talking to any other human–or monster (even Papyrus).  He wants to be the center of your world, but he was GRACIOUS ENOUGH to allow you to remain friends with this so-called bestie (even though he didn’t understand because “I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND, HUMAN!”).  

And now, he can see that was a mistake.

Your best friend is OBVIOUSLY IN LOVE WITH YOU.  
(Of course Sans thinks that anyone that is polite to you in public is also MADLY IN LOVE WITH YOU, so you’re likely to brush aside his conjecture as foolish jealousy.)

Sans is going to demand you wear a collar, and if you deny that request, it’s going to be an argument that ends up with Sans kicking you out of his house, but later apologizing… if apologizing counts as stopping by your house with burritos and pretending nothing happened.  He’ll end up confronting your friend by threatening their life, likely holding a sharpened bone to their neck with Papyrus looming behind your bestie with a lazy grin to really drive the threat home.

SF!Papyrus:

Papyrus pretends not to notice for the longest time.

It’s true that he’s the jealous type, and with his low self-esteem, he assumes that you’d be happier with your best friend.  After all, you’ve known them longer, and you’ve spent a lot more time with them, so why wouldn’t you be?  He’s quite perceptive, and he watches the two of you, seeing how you act toward the flirting, to judge if you’re aware or into it at all.  

He acts laid-back and nonchalant about the whole thing, but the moment you’re alone, he’s all over you.  His love bites are a bit rougher, his grip bruising, like he’s trying to hold onto you as long as he can.  He doesn’t bring up his insecurities unless he’s drunk or you end up in a fight, and in both cases, his words are sharp and biting. 

(”i bet you wouldn’t act this way if it was them, huh?  you come home smellin’ like them every night, and it drives me fuckin’ insane, darlin’.  do you have any idea what you’re doin’ to me?”)

You’re going to have to have a long talk–with both him and your friend.

people like to make fun of izaya because he wasn’t invited to shinra and celty’s hot pot party, but i can’t do it. i empathize with him. i never get invited to parties lol.

my entire life has been a hot pot party for one.

Rouge Week Day 1:


Rouge tugs her hair in annoyance, glancing at the list of things that still had to be done before their guests arrived. It was going to be hours before anything was remotely ready and she still had to track down Roger and Ace to make sure that they were presentable. Not to mention making sure that Ace’s friend was neat enough to pass inspection.

“You look stressed already,” Shakky states.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Rouge states grabbing one of the pans from underneath the stove and checking that the cake was doing well. “When did you get here?”

“When I did,” Rayleigh answers tying on the spare apron with a frown. He snatched one of the recipes from her hand. “How much food are we making, woman?”

“Roger’s company is coming, at least the upper ranks, including yourself,” Rouge points out. “My friends from the law firm and hopefully my parents. Not to mention Oden promised to stop by if he had a chance.”

Rayleigh shakes his head, reaching into the cupboards to find what he needed, “May I say that the fact that Oden is coming to the house of a man widely believed to have murdered a rival in the middle of an election campaign is probably a poor choice.”

Rouge snorts, sprinkling salt into the water as she waited for it to boil, “Well, you would think it accurate. He looks like a killer.”

They both pause as Roger shouts and runs past the door to the kitchen with Ace hanging from his neck and Sabo holding tight to his waist, the sliding glass door slamming open before something splashed into the pool.

“A monster,” Rayleigh agrees deadpan. “What do you mean, hopefully your parents? I thought they said that they were coming?”

“They still haven’t forgiven me for my, in their eyes, hasty marriage to Roger.”

“We dated for years,” Roger groans splashing back into the kitchen with a child under each arm. “We did and I asked your dad for permission to marry you. I literally did everything to be polite to them!”

“You did,” Rouge laughs raising an eyebrow. “What happened here?”

“We got him with itching powder!” Sabo says brightly, hanging upside down. “Ace got it down his shirt and I got it down his pants!”

Rayleigh sighs dropping his head into his hands, “Shanks!”

“I just got here!” Shanks shouts back, struggling to get his shoes off with one arm, almost falling before Benn caught him. “Thanks. Where’s my baby brother?”

“Shanks!” Ace shouts wiggling as he tried to escape and hug him. “We got Dad!”

“I heard, you little firecracker,” Shanks says sweeping Ace from Roger’s arm and spinning him around with a grin. “Thanks for inviting us to dinner, Rouge.”

Rouge smiles kissing his cheek, “I’m glad you could make it, Shanks. What are you doing here so early?”

“I told him that if he wanted to play with Ace before the party started that we had to arrive before the time on the invitation,” Benn answers hanging both of their coats up. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think he would insist on being this early.”

“But you said that if we came on time that Ace would be too busy to play!” Shanks says pouting at Benn. “Look at this face!”

Rouge rolls her eyes, knowing that Ace is pouting up at Benn as she dumps the rice into the pot with a sigh. She glances over to where Rayleigh was frowning at the recipe as he chopped the carrots, grumbling to himself about lines and perfect julianning.

“Come on brats,” Roger states sighing, “We better go shower and get dressed before your mom comes after us with a pan again.”

“Roger, don’t scare them!” Rouge shouts after him as the three of them scurry upstairs. “I was only aiming for you!” She frowns when at Shanks, draped over the table and laughing. “And you, go borrow a shirt while we throw yours in the dryer. It’s bad enough that you’re going to be a  mess.”

“I have him covered,” Benn says grabbing Shanks by the arm. “Excuse us for a few moments.”

Shakky rolls her eyes, “You do know that no matter how nice we look, your parents have already decided not to like us.”

“I know,” Rouge sighs pulling the meat from the second oven. “But I just want them to come for dinner this once. They’re my parents and they didn’t even come to my wedding.”

“Probably for the best, Roger’s vow’s were basically an ode to how amazing you are,” Rayleigh says grinning.

“And he adds to them for an anniversary,” Rouge admits softly.

“He’s hopeless,” Rayleigh sighs.

Rouge smiles back at him, happy to have her family with her. She didn’t even realize that she didn’t care about her parent’s arrival until she finally checked the phone after the party to find their message saying that they couldn’t make it. She deletes the message with a sigh, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Darling?” Roger asks suddenly closer than before, hand lifting her face to see what was wrong.

“My parents cancelled again,” Rouge admits softly.

“Well that’s their fault. We had an amazing party without their grumpy old fashioned ideas and they should be apologizing, not us,” Roger says softly. “And all the rest of your family was there. They had fun didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” Rouge says smiling. “Our family had fun tonight, didn’t it?”

“Now, are you going to help me put the boys to sleep? I think Shanks slipped them another slice of cake and they’re bouncing off the walls.”

Rouge laughs, “Let’s go!”


She had a family and if her parents didn’t want to be part of it, than she had enough to make up the difference.

Suddenly Jay Z is an Anti-Semite

At risk of provoking the oversensitive divas on Tumblr, I’m posting this so people can see just how ridiculous the charge of anti-Semitism has become. This is probably the hardest I’ve eye-rolled all year. Jay Z raps the following:

“You wanna know what’s more important than throwin’ away money at a strip club? Credit/You ever wonder why Jewish people own all the property in America? This how they did it”

How is this not anything more than high praise from one successful person to other successful people? He’s basically saying that Jewish businessmen and real estate tycoons understood the importance of credit and now own a lot of property in the US. Had he said this about Trump, Rockefeller, or the Hiltons, would it qualify as hatred toward these men and/or their families? Very likely not. Truth is, you can’t say anything about Jews without the charge rearing its ugly head. Apparently you can’t even praise their business savvy without someone hurling that accusation. 

I invite them to keep it up because it will only delegitimize the charge. I really do think that today’s privileged, first world Jews don’t comprehend real anti-Semitism. The majority of them never experienced any discrimination or prejudice; they’ve never been victims of an actual hate crime. And thank goodness! No one is calling for you to have such experiences. Today’s minorities, especially Blacks, are experiencing too much of it in the US today. The last thing Humanists want is more discrimination and prejudice.

Someone can disagree with some aspect of their culture and suddenly they’re an anti-Semite. We should be able to criticize ideas without taking it personally. You are not your beliefs. You are not your ideas. You can be wrong. I get the defensive mechanism of creating a word to shield from mere criticism, but now it’s apparently been deployed to shield from praise. Actual anti-Semitism still happens on America soil, but this simply isn’t it.

Inevitably, someone will come along saying that this is subtle anti-Semitism, ingrained in American culture. Sure! And calling out White privilege is ingrained hatred against Whites. The minute we say anything about White washing, we hate Whites. The second we talk about how White people commit crimes and sometimes get off easy, we are revealing our hatred for Whites. There’s nothing subtle or implicit about what Jay Z said; there’s nothing subtle or implicit about me not seeing how this qualifies as anti-Semitism. The point is that it simply doesn’t and Jews on Twitter need to move on. The Jews on Tumblr who read this need to move on without comment because there’s no argument to be won here. 

Credit is important! As an accountant, liabilities are integral on a balance sheet. The aim for any individual looking to be successful is to manage their own finances in the same way a business would. People need assets, liabilities and equity. For an individual, credit is a liability. Some credit is, of course, much better than others. A credit card with a 19.8% APR is less preferable than a 15-year mortgage. A mortgage is essentially an annuity that presents an opportunity to get most of one’s money back should one resale their home, for example. Student loans are another way in which credit is utilized for sake of increasing one’s prospects. Jewish Americans know this! They’ve used it to their advantage. Of course, Jay Z’s lyric may oversimplify “how they did it,” but credit played a key role. This is simply not an example of anti-Semitism. 

I had a hard time choosing between Wael from Algeria 🇩🇿 and Yassine from Morocco 🇲🇦

Wael is the one holding the phone. He got the perfect body to match with his good looks. While Yassine has this sexy Saharan eyes and lips. Both guys are good looking and fit, I ended up inviting them both in my flat. 😉

These North African Arabs are the real deal.

Hail Arab studs from Maghreb!! 🇲🇦 🇩🇿 🇹🇳

💯% Prime Arab Beef 🤤👌🏻☑️
💯% Muscle God 😍💪🏻☑️
💯% Muscle Hunk 😛🙌🏻☑️

Not This Again

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader where she’s new to the team (I picked after Emily left in season 7, so she and Blake are new to the team in season 8). Spencer and Hotch are the only two that are warm to her, while the others still haven’t dealt with Emily leaving yet. One day, when the reader saves JJ, things start to turn around. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8

                                                              —–

Well, this was fun. This again? Who could’ve possibly thought that working for the FBI could feel the same as high school did? You’d known Spencer on and off for nearly your entire life, so when you decided to apply for a job with the BAU, you contacted him to see if he could put in a good word. Shortly after you called, you started Skyping, and by the time you’d been accepted to the team, you’d started seeing each other. Nothing serious, but you were together.

Agent Hotchner knew up front what was going on between the two of you. “I do need to warn you Agent Y/L/N. I’m sure Spencer has told you at least some of what has gone on regarding an Agent Emily Prentiss?”

“Yes, sir, I’m aware.”

“Well, the rest of the team is having a very difficult time with the fact that Agent Prentiss chose to leave after seemingly coming back from the dead. It may take them a while to warm up to, and Dr. Alex Blake, who’s also joining the team.” He glanced backward and your eyes followed his path. Behind you at the door was Agent Blake. You shook her hand and said that at least you’d have each other to get through these first few months with the BAU. 

“Thank you both,” Hotch said. “I look forward to working with you and I swear, if you give them time, the rest of the team will welcome you as family in no time.”

That had been nearly three months ago. They’d warmed up to Blake a tiny bit, probably because despite being new to the team she was a seasoned professional in the field. You however, were completely new to this line of work, which meant that they had to teach you here and there. 

It seriously was high school all over again. You were one of those lucky teenagers, the ones that had a couple of people (in this case Spencer, Blake and Hotch) to turn to, but the other agents, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi and Penelope Garcia still had their issues, though the attempted to mask them with smiles. For all their skills in the field, their masks did nothing, and you were tempted to call them out for it. The problem with that was that no one was outright rude, so you’d seem like the bitch for calling them out. 

“Spence, you’ve got to talk to them,” you said one day after work. Once again, everyone had been invited to go out to dinner, but both yourself and Alex found out through Hotch and Spencer, you hadn’t actually been personally invited. “I really feel like you and I could be something. Something real, but not when so many of your friends are so standoffish with me just because I happen to be filling in Emily’s position. It’s not like I acted like I replaced her!” You slapped your hands to the sides of your legs you were so angry. 

Spencer pulled you into him and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “I know, Y/N. I’ll talk to them again. I promise, I’m not going to let the first woman I’ve ever loved get driven away because my friends are being babies.”

“You love me?” you asked, smiling for the first time that night.

“I do.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes and whispered into his ear. “I love you, too. See you later.”

                                                             —–

After Spencer left, you pulled out your phone and texted Alex. 

Y/N: You didn’t go either, did you?”

B: Not tonight. I’m still feeling less than welcome, but I think they’re coming around. It’s just taking longer than I thought. 

Y/N: I get missing their friend. I can tell this team is close and losing her once to “death” and then having her choose to go has to be hard, but neither you nor I act as if we’ve replaced her. It’s feeling a little bit high school, and I’m getting frustrated.

B: Me too. It’s especially understandable considering you and Spencer. You love him, don’t you?

Y/N: I do. 

B: Then I think you might get the in with the group before I do.

Y/N: If I do, I promise I’ll turn them to your side. <3

Blake was considerably older than you. She could’ve been your mother if she’d had you at a young age, so she took it all in stride, having faith that sooner or later the team would warm up to you both. You however were over it. Considering you’d left high school less than 10 years ago, the experiences were still on your mind, and your current circumstances were too reminiscent of the ones of old. 

Before you went to bed, you texted Spencer good night, hoping that the next morning at work might be a little better.

                                                            —–

Spencer glanced back up from his phone. It was barely 9 PM and Y/N was already off to bed. She must’ve really been frustrated because she was a night owl in every sense of the phrase; she never went to bed early. The entire night thus far had been fine, but Y/N and Blake had never been mentioned, and Spencer was starting to boil inside. “Okay, I have to ask,” he said, placing his phone in his pocket and his hands on the table. “What is your, your, your and your problem with Y/N? And Blake for that matter?” He glared between his four friends, unbelieving of the fact that he was talking to them in this manner; he never expected it.

“Spence,” JJ started. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We invited them.”

Hotch spoke up. “I told Blake actually. And Spencer told Y/N.”

The four of them looked down sheepishly as if they didn’t see what they were doing until this moment and were finding it hard to backtrack. If Spencer hadn’t have met Y/N, he might not have had the courage to say what he was about to, but she’d given him confidence he knew he needed. “I understand that you are all having a difficult time with Emily gone and I get it, I am too. I miss her. But if you haven’t noticed, I’m in love with Y/N and I would like to be able to share that with my friends, but I can’t seem to do that because four of you are holding a high school grudge, which is frankly pretty said considering the fact that all of us are a minimum of 20 years past that point. Also, I just have to say, that if Emily knew how you were treating Y/N and Blake, she’d probably yell at you too.”

In a huff, he stood up, said sorry to Hotch, left money on the table for his food, and left, leaving his friends sitting at the table swallowing their tongues. They’d fucked up - and they knew it.

                                                           —–

The next morning was filled with tension, between you and everyone, Spencer, and JJ, Rossi, Garcia and Morgan, and Hotch and no one, because once he got in the office, everything else didn’t matter. “We have a case,” he said, passing the bullpen quickly and heading toward the conference room. You all followed suit, forgetting whatever went on the night before to focus on the case.

But your unsub took days to flush out. Finally, you’d found him, and it was time to go after the bastard. You were going in full force, with vests, back-up from the local PD, and a number of your own carrying machine guns. “Ready?”

Spencer followed Derek, Rossi followed Blake and Hotch and you were tailing JJ. Everyone’s attempt at quiet footsteps sounded like earthquakes inside the nearly empty warehouse, but you had ears like a hawk and when you heard a step, you saw someone pointing a gun straight at JJ’s head. “Move!” you screamed. You jumped up so that your back was facing one of the unsub’s henchman, and were knocked down as the bullet hit into your vest at the back. 

As you fell to the floor, Spencer pulled you to safety behind a stack of boxes as the rest of the team took out five men, none of which were the unsub himself. He was finally taken down by Hotch on the roof of the building. “Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer asked shakily.

“Yea,” you choked out. “Back hurts, but the vest got it. I’m good.” The minute the shooting stopped, JJ came to your place behind the boxes. 

She knelt at your side, her eyes glazed over with tears. “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m fine, Jennifer.” She didn’t really feel like this was the time or the place, but something changed behind her eyes. When you looked around, the same could be said for the rest of the team too.

                                                          —–

After ensuring that the unsub was handcuffed and in the back of the squad car, the rest of the team turned their attention back toward you. JJ approached you, a sheepish smile creeping across her face as she finally met your gaze head on. “Y/N, I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting since you got here. It’s been childish to say the very least.”

“It has been,” you smiled. “But I forgive you. I get the difficulty in moving on, but all I want to do is get along with the people I work with every day. You okay by the way?”

“Am I okay,” she laughed softly. “Yea, I’m fine. Thanks to you. Based on where you got hit and the fact that you jumped, I’m assuming that would’ve hit my head.”

“It would’ve,” Spencer said, his voice full of hostility.

You turned to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t you hold a grudge too,” you said. “Or I’ll have to kill you.”

Spencer shrugged and said he was sorry as the Morgan and Rossi came up to see you. “We’re sorry too,” Rossi said. “Can you forgive us?”

“Yea, I think I can,” you said. “However, I’m thinking an unknowing pie to the face might be in order.”

Morgan and JJ looked at each other and chuckled. “Wait,” Morgan said, “so are you telling us that one day you are going to come in and pie me in the face?”

“Yup,” you said, emphasizing the P at the end of the word, “And I’m not gonna tell you when.” 

On the outside you smiled, glad to have this crap behind you; you weren’t going to ask them to grovel no matter how much these past few months had bothered you. That wasn’t the type of person you were. Maybe now you could move forward. In your mind however, you were trying to plan out who you were going to pie and when. It seemed only fair, right?

Thursday 8.06.17 at 9.25pm

Translation by myself (and Google Translate)
Chat : “Olafia clinic” (Sana, Chris, Eva, Vilde, Noora)

~~~

Chris: How many people will come to your party Eva?

Eva: Really?
Eva: THE PARTY IS HAPPENING???

Chris: I’m not kidding

Eva: Awesome
Eva: Now I’m really fucking happy

Sana: Same here

Chris: But how many?

Eva: I want to celebrate with just you ❤️

Chris: Stop being such a nerd

Eva: ahahah
Eva: Ok. Who should we invite?

Vilde: Can we please invite the balloon guys?
Vilde: It would be really good for Magnus and me

Eva: Are you still working it out? With the trust tests and all?

Vilde: I guess. It’s still in progress. I think that if Magnus could meet Elias f2f and see with his own eyes that there is nothing, it would be good

Eva: But isn’t it bad taste to invite them when they beat up Isak?
Eva: I don’t want more drama to happen

Vilde: They didn’t beat up Isak

Sana: How do you know that?

Vilde: I saw it
Vilde: He was drunk and hit Mikael, because Even and Mikael were talking. Jealous much? Yes I think so

Eva: I forgot you know all the gossips

Vilde: 😄😄😄

Chris: Whattevah
Chris: Do you think it’s ok sana? Or do you still have this *no I don’t party with my brother* rule

Sana: Lol
Sana: Good for me

Chris: Okay now the guest list starts to look like something
Chris: More info coming

3

I need someone like you to lighten the load