it came on and my mind went

Only Us (Part Nine)

Pairing: Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Reader

Summary:  What happens when the reader saves Spiderman…while he’s saving you? (things have changed but fuck it I’m still using this summary cuz idk)

Word Count: 1791

Warning(s): Swearing

Additional Notes: If you would like to be tagged for every part of this series let me know by commenting or something else idk. ALSO I’M SO SORRY

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

Sobs racked through me as I sat on my bed tissues surrounding me. My mind went though all the things that I had told him. My parents, my job, all of my feelings for Peter—or him. Tears ran down my face. How could he do that? A knock came at the window and I looked toward it seeing Peter outside in his spiderman suit.

“Y/N please.” He begged. I stood up walking toward the window. “Just listen to me—” I reached up drawing the blinds over them. “Y/N…” I heard him trail off. More sobs racked through me as I dropped on my pillow. More knocks came from the window. I swallowed leaning over starting my stereo butting on “Fuck you” by Cee Lo Green. I turned it loud, louder than normal. I closed my eyes as I continued to cry feeling sick. There was yelling outside my room and a pounding came from my door.

“What?!” I yelled.

“Where the fuck is my money Y/N.” My mom yelled.

“I don’t have any of your money!” I yelled back.

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This is my new mustang. His tag number was 5118, he’s a six year old gelding, and he’s around 15 hands tall. He’s a liver chestnut with a beautiful little streak of a stripe down his face, white feet, and the head of a dinosaur.

It happened exactly the way I worried it wouldn’t but knew it would. My group and I (TIP trainer, my sister, me) went into the second gelding pen. I already had a few good looking horses in mind from the first, and then I see this face. We basically locked eyes and -confetti jazz hands- he came to investigate, and followed our group around, and gently nibbled my fingers. It was perfect.

Why the Harry Potter fandom is important

Last night after walking down Regent Street and marvelling at the Christmas lights and how very much I love London(which happens anytime I walk around central London), I sat waiting in Leicester Sq. Me and my Hufflepuff fellow @andyouknowitis were off to see the midnight showing of ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’. 

After a little while, the scarves began to emerge. A girl sat down next to me wearing a Slytherin scarf. Later replaced by a girl in a Ravenclaw scarf. Two Gryffindors came up to me and went ‘Would you mind taking a picture of us? We saw you and thought ‘She’s wearing a Hufflepuff scarf, we’ll ask her’. Me and the two girls got chatting about fandom and the excitement for the movie and they wandered off. I sat back down and then two girls in robes walked by and grinned at me. 

A guy dressed as Newt walked by and jokingly cursed a group of people, more friends in scarves began to appear, wands came out, hugs were had. The cinema was crowded, full of posters and people squealing over them. In the very long queue for food, one guy found out how long the adverts were and I asked whether he was a Ravenclaw, turned out he was. 

Eventually we all found our seats, shuffling around in the dark trying to place drinks and popcorn, balancing the IMAX glasses and jostling for space. The lights dimmed, the Warner Bros logo appeared on screen and we all cheered. Here we were, one big nerdy family in the middle of the night about to experience new wizarding world material. 

The movie was brilliant, we all laughed a lot, we cheered and clapped and gasped. We marvelled at the beauty on screen and were so very aware of how much we just really bloody love magic. 

It’s been nine years since the last book came out, back when most of us were in our teens and  early twenties. And yet he we still are, smiling at the people in scarves and laughing in a movie theatre, nearly ten years on. Older and adulter but still very much in love with this fandom. 

After the movie, we wandered off to House of Minalima, a place in Soho run by the people behind the art of Harry Potter. We got to talk to them and look at all the amazing things surrounded us. The creaky, wobbly old house imbued with magic whilst the drunken Muggles cavorted outside. It felt like the Leaky Cauldron, hidden away in London at 3am. We chatted to Potterheads, it’s London, you don’t talk to random people but with this, how could you not? 

The world has been a bit rubbish of late, it’s terrifying and scary and a lot of unkind people seem to be winning. But we still have Harry Potter, we still have kindness and joy and excitement  and magic. We need that, we revel in it and thankfully this fandom ain’t going anywhere. In ten years time I’d still like to be grinning at people in fandom scarves like we’re part of a secret society. We got this Potterheads, we ain’t going nowhere. 

This is kind of a rant so there’s no need for anyone to read it but I feel like this is an open and accepting place so i hope you guys don’t mind. I feel like I have been white washing myself from the moment I became self aware, my entire life I went by Gj because it sounded less ethnic than my actual name. It helped me blend in and was easier for everyone around me. Then the internet age came and almost immediately I embraced the name Benji and went with it, for no reason other than it sounded white and easy to pronounce. I’ve gone by Benji now for almost five years on the internet. It’s tiresome, it’s not true to myself and I feel like for a long time now I’ve just been shunning and hiding my ethnicity to make others comfortable. I’m tired of it, so I’m going to start going by my real name everywhere, and drop the act of trying to sound white and blend in, my real name is Gerardo Jose Figueroa, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

day 1: i cried so hard my mom woke up every hour to make sure i was still breathing; she told me it was like i was a newborn in his crib for the very first time.
day 2: i went to school and cried in the counselors office.
day 3: i believed we were okay and our love was cured, i think my mind was playing a sick joke on me.
day 4: i told you i’d wait for you, you replied with “i don’t want you to wait”
day 5: i came across a picture of you on tumblr. It lit my throat on fire so i tried lighting your letters over the fire… it was to hard.
day 6: happy one month: you loved me so much you couldn’t even make it a month with me
sincerely - the love you don’t deserve.
day 7: you left me broken into pieces on the bathroom floor, someone is picking up your dirty work, something you’ve never been able to do even before.
day 8: your voice still echoes in the wind and although your touch never got the chance to bruise my skin, your voice overpowered my soul. i’m no longer bleeding on the bathroom floor though i am in the room where you once called me yours.
day 9: im finally laughing with someone new and my smile is bigger and brighter than ever.
day 10: the doubt makes my spine feel less like a vertebrae and more like a giant icicle (you never loved me)
day 11: Since when was heartbreak so fucking beautiful to you? Since when was lying fun? Since when was i not enough for you?
There is nothing pretty about losing feelings in my knuckles after squeezing my hands so tight to keep from texting you
day 12: i was never able to squeeze them tight enough; i never would have imagined that it would be so easy for you to let go.
day 13: i no longer think about you constantly, my heart no longer beats for you, my mom no longer checks to see if i’m alive. I’m moving on like i said i would
day 14: i smoked weed with a girl in the front seat of her car and she asked questions i couldn’t get myself to even answer
day 15: i found out you had finally replaced me and it flicked at my bruises i gave myself but somehow i still didn’t break.
day 16: i still find excuses to text you; you still find reasons to ignore them.
day 17: what color are your eyes? what does your smile look like? what does your voice sound like? who are you now?
day 18: i was worth it. i was so fucking worse it. You don’t deserve the love i had to offer. Fuck you i was worth it
day 19: sometimes all i feel in my chest is my heart trying to escape from its cage it’s being held in; i think it’s tired of all the tears i’ve shed because of you
day 20: i was finally able to sleep right; your voice no longer keeps me awake late at night. You no longer overpower my brain.
day 21: someone told me it took 21 days to break a habit. It has been 21 days since you decided to leave me for her. Within them 21 days, i’ve realized you never deserved me, i was worth it and that life is so much better without you. i’ve realized i don’t need you to be alive.
—  21 days without you
Censorship came from some of my own comrades because I was treating such ‘unnatural’ themes as homosexuality. Anarchism was already enough misunderstood, and anarchists considered depraved; it was inadvisable to add to the misconceptions by taking up perverted sex-forms, they argued. Believing in freedom of opinion, even if it went against me, I minded the censors in my own ranks as little as I did those in the enemy’s camp. In fact, censorship from my comrades had the same effect on me as police persecution; it made me surer of myself, more determined to plead for every victim, be it one of social wrong or of moral prejudice.
The men and women who used to come to see me after my lectures on homosexuality, and who confided to me their anguish and their isolation, were often of finer grain than those who had cast them out. Most of them had reached an adequate understanding of their differentiation only after years of struggle to stifle what they had considered a disease and a shameful affliction. One young woman confessed to me that in the twenty-five years of her life she had never known a day when the nearness of a man…. did not make her ill…. She could not face marriage, and she dared not confide in her fiance or friends. She had never met anyone, she told me, who suffered from a similar affliction, nor had she ever read books dealing with the subject. My lecture had set her free; I had given her back her self-respect.
This woman was only one of the many who sought me out. Their pitiful stories made the social ostracism of the invert seem more dreadful than I had ever realized before. To me anarchism was not a mere theory for a distant future; it was a living influence to free us from inhibitions, internal no less than external, and from the destructive barriers that separate man from man.
—  Emma Goldman, Living My Life
One is verra much like the other....

I stole your line @boyneriver, sorrynotsorry

ETA: The gifs have magically transformed into photos! Thanks for the heads-up!

So I has minding my own business, watching some oldie but definitely goodie interviews, when I came across this treasure.

It instantly rang about 25 different bells, so I went and rewatched that glorious Q&A we got oh so recently, and well…

Do the math yourselves, ladies. JS


                                                  So many y e a r s before them.
                I’m so glad you had the courage to tell me how their fate had changed.
                                        Yes. They will be together for many years.

My first sexaul encounter was when I was about 12. I went to my mates house after school and was playing in his room when his younger sister came into the room and started playing with us. After a short time the conversation turned to if you show me yous I’ll show you mine. The three of us got naked and I was so surprised that she had hair and I didn’t because she was younger than me mind you this is the fist naked girl I had seen. My mate said that they do this all the time so I just went along for the ride. She got us to lay on the floor and she rub,licked and sucked our dicks. She then got on the floor and got me to put my cock into her pussy I was so nervous it just slid in her. Her brother and I took turns in fucking her. At one point she was on top of me and her brother was licking her pussy and sucking my dick. I was like OMG but it was so good I just went with it. After that I had lots of sleep overs at my mates house. We also use to sneak in and watch his mum and dad fuck well not sneaking in because hey would leave the door open. His mum was always waking around the house top less. I must admit I had a awesome 6 months till we moved away

Customers rock story.

Ive worked at a gas station in a college town for over 2 years. At least three times a week I would have this old man come in to drop off cans. We would talk, tell jokes, he always read poems, some a little sad, but most were hilarious. I dont think he had any family near by and just wanted someone to talk to.
I had the day off yesterday and came to work today to find this music box.
I asked my coworker about it and he said who it was from; “He said he was moving away and he wanted you to have something because you were always kind to him.”

I’m no one special. Just a cashier at a crap gas station who didnt mind talking with people. Yet he went out of his way to give me this gift when he didnt have to. So, yeah, sometimes customers suck. Then again, sometimes they really, really surprise you and make the job worth it.

do you know what i think is just swell? that colin morgan made a decision as an actor that every time leo charges it should feel like a sexual experience. he came up with that in his mind. in his filthy mind. no one can convince me it wasn’t his idea. he went up to the producers and was like “hey i think leo should make sex faces every time he charges” and they were like “yes! do it!” i love it. i love him. i want to shake his hand.

I think my real frustration with the Rory/Logan arc was that I so easily could’ve believed it. It would’ve only taken a line or two of dialogue. 

I liked what Dan and Matt said about Rory being Logan’s salvation and I think that lines up with what we saw in the series. And it’s very easy for me to believe that after the proposal Logan went back to the “dynastic plan” because in his mind, his reason not to just rejected him. 

What I have trouble with is the idea that once “his salvation” came back into his life he wasn’t going to fight for it anymore. This is why I needed an exchange about the proposal, maybe confirmation that Rory was the one who sought their “Vegas” arrangement–something to clearly indicate why Logan was holding back, why he was still going along with the “dynastic plan”. If Rory told to him that she still wouldn’t commit to him, that she didn’t want him, I would understand why he wouldn’t fight to be with her. 

I just…needed to see it/needed to be told. Because with what we got I’m very unclear about why it was happening the way it was. 

The Seven Deadly Sins – Part 6

Originally posted by jeongguk

Characters: Reader x Jungkook

Word Count: 10.5k

Genre/Warnings: Angst, (Very) Mild violence, Sexual assault.

Series: 1. Lust2. Gluttony |   3. Greed (1) |   4. Greed (2) |   5. Sloth | 6. Wrath | 7. Envy

A/N: Despite how much I would love for more people to read my work, if you stan Jungkook don’t read this! I feel so guilty you guys, but once the idea came to mind I went with it. I hope you like it, please feel free to message me or leave something in my ask box telling me how you felt about it. Thank you for reading! The series is almost over! 

Description: Seven men helped shape you into who you are. Some lovers, some friends, some enemies, all of them left a long lasting mark on your life, for better or for worse.


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Aulë and Yavanna (cause they kind of perplex me like they’re that couple you know who have been married for decades but you d o n ‘ t k n o w w h y)

I picture Yavanna as taller/bigger than her husband  }:) 

So I paused during Steve and French’s desperate internet search for proof of OA’s story, and…

This came up when they searched “anesthesiologist pilot.” First item found: “Airplane Amnesia, the voice recorder often found in the black…” Below that, it says “A new novel by Maegen Sacco about the perils of a plane crew caught in the Bermuda Triangle with no memory of how they got there. Will they remember who they are, and…”

From this, my mind immediately went to the possibility of the other 4 losing their memories while travelling to another dimension. Especially interesting, considering that Hap’s plan (before OA shot him down) was to take her to an island somewhere and set up a clinic. Could that be his plan, now, with the others, either in this dimension or another one? 

UPDATE: this is what actually comes up when you google it:

Aaaand when I searched the supposed book’s supposed author’s name, I first found some stuff about an actress and some other person involved in film, but quickly came upon this Reddit thread…

…where it turns out someone had already discovered all of this. So, full disclosure, I’m not that clever. Ah, well. tl;dr for the bit of the thread I read: the author’s name is also on the For Sale sign outside the Johnsons’ house, AND is the name of a PA who worked on the show. The folks on the thread don’t think it’s particularly relevant, though, because they can use crew names without as many legal hurdles as they’d otherwise have.

Finally, though, to end this post on a less useless note: the fact that that book does not, in fact, exist means that this was a purposeful plant. Someone’s gonna lose their memory, and my bet is on it being one, if not all, of the basement gang.

800 meters into my 3k my spike came untied. In past years I would’ve (and have) let something like this get to my head and ruin my race. But today I didn’t let my triple-knotted shoe coming untied so early in a race take control of me. “Mind over matter” I told myself, and then I went on to PR in a race that I’ve never been successful in. Cheers to a new chapter and to being stronger both mentally and physically

Forgive & Forget (Yoongi)

Request from @well-all-float-on-alright: “I was wondering if you would write a Drabble for Yoongi with #61 and #2.”

AN: hello! I wasn’t sure if you wanted an angsty or fluffy ending, so I just went along with whatever came to my mind. I hope this is alright for you :)

Warning: Language

2. “You’ve only heard his side of the story. You never asked for mine.”
61. “Remember when you used to care?”

•·.··.·• •·.··.·•

You sighed as you scrolled through the day old messages from your boyfriend Yoongi, full of bitter and hateful words, words you wished you would never see or hear from him again. You already regretted your choices, but you weren’t sure if Yoongi had regretted his own. You desperately wanted to talk to him, but you knew he wouldn’t bother listening to you, not what after he saw yesterday - or rather what he thought he saw.

You hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, and you didn’t plan to do so anytime soon. You just wanted to stay curled underneath the vanilla scented blankets and hide away from the world and your emotions.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t carry out your plans due to your doorbell ringing repeatedly, the shrilling sound piercing through your eardrums. You were hoping whoever was at the door would leave after a minute with no response, but they obviously weren’t going to let up as they also started to knock harshly on your front door.

You softly groaned as you rolled out of bed, leaving the sheets scattered as you walked towards the front door, slowly opening it with your eyes half-lidded.

“We need to talk.” Your eyes jolted open at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, and you almost didn’t want to look up at him. A faint voice in the back of your mind urged you to shut the door and let it be done with, but Yoongi already pushed past you and shut the door, purposefully avoiding any contact with your hand.

“Leave,” You mumbled, keeping your gaze down towards the hardwood floor.

“Y/N, you have been putting this off for too long. I’m sick and tired of it,” He said, raising his voice slightly.

“Maybe I’ve been putting it off because you’re believing a lie and you won’t even bother to listen to me!” You snapped, raising your head to face him.

“Jaebum already told me everything I need to know.”

“You’ve only heard his side of the story. You never asked for mine.”

“How can I even trust that you’re telling the truth?” He yelled as he clenched his fists.

“Min fucking Yoongi! I cannot believe you’d take Jaebum’s’ word for something rather than your own girlfriend! You’re ridiculous!”

“Jaebum is my close friend! Why would he ever lie to me? Why should I believe you?”

At that point, your throat was sore and your eyes were stinging, but something kept pushing you forward. Maybe it was your own stubbornness, or maybe it was pure anger, but whatever it was, you knew you’ve had enough of this.

“Because I love you!” You screamed, all of the tears you held in this entire time spilling out like a waterfall. You both knew this was the most you’ve ever cried in front of anyone.

You were completely broken, and you had nobody left that could piece you back together. Not your family, not your friends, and definitely not Yoongi. He was the one who tore you apart, so how could he manage to fix you if he only knew how to destroy?

“Remember when you used to care?” You choked out, hopelessly trying to stop the tears from coming out, but you just couldn’t stop. “When you used to care about me? About us?”

“Y/N…” Yoongi said softly, attempting to reach out to you, but you quickly slapped his hand away and shoved him out of your apartment, slamming your front door so hard you swear you could feel the ground shake beneath you. You sank to your knees and rested your forehead against the white wood of the door, your hands slowly sliding down and to the sides of your body. At that moment, you knew what was broken couldn’t be put back together, and you knew it was time to forgive and forget about the Min Yoongi you thought you used to know.

•·.··.·• •·.··.·•

Thank you for your request! I hope this is okay.

Dyanne Scholvin, 1943-2017

Yesterday I offered a remembrance of my mom at the memorial service we had for her and my grandmother. I spoke extemporaneously, but it went something like this. (Yeah, it’s kinda long by tumblr standards, so it’s under a jump. Sorry if that doesn’t work on your platform.) 

(And please don’t reblog. Thanks.)

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