looking at peoples hands

i can’t understand ppl who hate rats. “their tails are creepy!! there’s no fur on them!!!” ??? you don’t have fur on most of your creepy ass body either. “THEY HAVE LITTLE PEOPLE HANDS” YOU HAVE LITTLE PEOPLE HANDS TOO, stop hating. you’re weak. look at their sweet faces. they just want to love u.

2

“…whoa, Keiji, I don’t think I’ve seen you this mad since Kuroo teased you about the Valentine’s telegram I sent you!”

Relatedly, HOLY GOD, look at this. They made a marker showing exactly where they sat for the photo, so you can re-create it.

When people dig this shit up in 3,000 years, they are deadass going to believe we worshiped the Beatles as deities. And I’m not even sure they’ll be wrong.

Archaeologist 1: Metal buttprints?! What in the HELL?

Archaeologist 2: Ah yes. From the Bug Cult. Intended for ritual purposes.

9

I saw this lovely comic by Max, and I thought I should add a little something of my own.

They get gold rings, eventually.

You know when people shake your hands and they don’t look you in the eye? That’s a faux pass…I’d say [look me in the eye] for at least 12 seconds, if you could, hold it.
—  Harry Styles on what not to do when someone meets him
The Club (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Smut with a dash of fluff.
Word count: 3.6k 

Part one: Kitchen Counter, Part two: Laundry Room.

» Song: Love In This Club part II

Summary: ”Or we can just do it here.“ He hummed, his fingers immediately latching onto his belt and working as quickly as ever to get it loose. “Jeon Jungkook,” You quietly scolded with a laugh, placing a hand over his and looked around. “People can see you.” Once you looked back down at him, he shook his head slowly, “It doesn’t matter, baby,” He reasoned, his tongue flickering over his lips. “Everyone’s wasted, I promise. I just…I want you so bad.” 


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The first time I tried to come out to someone I was ten years old and in primary school.
I told a person who was supposed to be one of my best friends. She listened.
The next day when I came to school she had told the twins; my other friends and they all laughed at me and avoided me for days on end. I knew there was something wrong with me then, see!?? So I told them I was just joking and of course I didn’t like girls that way, I’M NOT GAY!
The next time I tried, I told my cousin, my other best friend. She didn’t say a lot about it and just kind of changed the subject. The next time I saw her she asked me if I was being serious with a screwed up look on her face that hit me in the gut like disgust. I felt so sick, am I sick?! There is something so wrong with me. I told her no, of course I wasn’t, I’M NOT GAY, NO REALLY, DEFINITELY!
I started high school desperately trying to be cool, to be normal, to just fit in, why couldn’t I be like all of them? Every now and then someone in the halls would call me a fucking lesbian. It took me right back to those laughs that I heard when I was ten. I was still friends with the same girls who’s laugher haunted me and one night I slept over at their house. They had a brother who was a couple of years older and I thought I might have had a crush on him. It was juvenile wishful thinking. I ended up in his room with the door closed, in the darkness putting his dick in my mouth. After that I asked if I could go home because I was homesick - but I was just sick, I didn’t like anything about him or his dick. I felt so empty and so alone knowing that I was not normal, I was not like any of them. I sat in the bathtub with the door locked at 1am brushing my teeth and trying to erase the stain of what happened.
I came to school on Monday, and people were looking at me. They were talking behind hands and snickering. Someone had told someone and then someone told everyone and they all knew. My mind flew out the second story window in math as a girl passed me a note telling me I was gross and a fucking slut. If anything I thought it would shut them all up? Isn’t that what normal girls do, they like boys and they don’t leave their balls blue?! I had no idea what in the fuck I was supposed to do.
I drifted away from them all, I’d still see them in the halls but we hardly ever talked anymore. I found out that there were certain boys that stayed seperate from the jocks, and their flocks, so I started hanging out with them. They didn’t really care about much of anything and for once I felt a tiny bit of what I thought was belonging. Of course I engaged in ridiculous dating charades where I was one of their girlfriends. We’d occasionally kiss and hold hands and that was it, and I thought it might finally look like I fit. But I still heard it, from time to time “HEY DYKE, ARE YOU A LEMON OR A LIME?” I’d just put my head down and hide. I’d hide behind my boyfriend who was sweet and kind and dopey and gentle, even though most days he kind of drove me mental.
One day there was a new guy at school, I saw him before roll call in the hall and thought he looked cool. Later that day in science, he was sitting opposite me, and I smiled, he smiled back. We’re still friends and it’s about fourteen years down the track - how did we get to that? Well…
The next time I came out it was to him, and he told me he was the same as me. Of course I chose to come out under the label of bisexuality, because I still thought guys were kind of cute and it provided me with a shield of a certain safety and half normality. He didn’t flinch or cringe or look at me with hate, he just said he was the same, and my shame started to deflate a little. I started to breathe full breaths for the first time in so long, and I started to believe maybe I wasn’t so fucking wrong.
The next time I tried to come out to somebody I was sixteen and it was my mother. I’d spent years in torture and isolation trying to figure myself out, who I really was, what it was all about. I told her I was bi and she was quiet for a while. After I prompted her for a response she said “but how do you know?” with a condescending smile. She told me I was young, and that I hadn’t even slept with anyone so how could I possibly know what I am?? Rage is the only thing I could feel at that stage, HOW COULD I KNOW WHAT I AM? The same way you knew you weren’t what I am, that’s how. I’ve spent years hating myself for being this way, and this is the stupidity I’m faced with now? Like I had just flippantly decided that I would announce something I wasn’t even sure of? I was floored, and thus thereafter the topic was purposefully ignored. The silence said all I needed to know, this was something I just wasn’t supposed to show, it’s just one of those things that was a no go. Certain people could be trusted with my secret, the thing that people didn’t seem to want to see, but I had to be very careful about who that would be.
So I shut it down and compartmentalised my difference and tried to survive. Three years went by before I opened that door again, to a trusted friend. I never intended to tell her, but she asked me in a way that seemed so tender, there were no teeth waiting to bite me, and even though it frightened me I told her. She didn’t even care, she was just curious, maybe she was questioning things in herself like some of us do. That was the first time I really knew that I wasn’t my shame and I wasn’t my pain and I wasn’t some thing to be hidden away. I decided then to be more open. To live authentically and do what felt right for me. But I still remained private about it unless asked explicitly - then I would answer as honestly as I knew how, because truthfully I’m still figuring all of it out. I’ve learned so much about diversity and gender and sexual identity and sometimes I find the right words that seem to fit, and other times the pressure of a label exhausts me and I get sick of it.
Sick of trying to classify myself under certain banners, sick of people asking things without any thought of manners.
I know on the grand spectrum of things I am not at all like them, I fall somewhere else along the Kinsey scale. Maybe that means in a way I fail the people like me, because I can’t cement things or write it in concrete and sign it to make it complete. Or that sometimes I still find myself in certain situations where I’m being discreet, holding my candour for fear of ramifications and slander. Maybe I’m not full of pride, maybe because for so long all I could do was hide. This makes me feel so guilty, I should be proud of who I am unapologetically! Not just for me but for the sake of visibility, so that maybe more people can see - we aren’t wrong, we don’t have any agenda other than to be able to be! Just to be; to live with an open vulnerability and tranquility and to be able to do it safely!! I’m sorry, that I could not join in on the pride but maybe you’ll know why; it’s hard to celebrate something that for most of your life you’ve had to justify to people, to justify to yourself, for most of your life you’ve carefully withheld.
— 

“Internalised Homophobia - Where Is My Pride?”

Pride month is such a wonderful thing and I know it is over now but it inspired me to share this. It’s intensely personal, not very well written and lengthy, but I wanted to be able to share some of my experiences regarding this topic. In no way do I speak for the whole LGBT+ community in this post and it’s simply a personal journey that I wrote out for catharsis. 

4

POIROT IS LIKE A KISS

Gryffindor is laughing loudly and not caring who hears you. It’s two AM truth or dare and giggling furiously. It’s complimenting someone’s hair and smiling when they smile. It’s climbing trees with your significant other. It’s standing up to your childhood bully. Gryffindor is being an adrenaline junkie who’s trying to do what’s right.

Ravenclaw is having existential crises at four AM and throwing things at each other. It’s having a small, interwoven group of friends. It’s having inside jokes that no one can understand. It’s wanting to see inside the soul of your significant other. It’s drinking tea and looking at art. Ravenclaw is being a person who expresses creativity and pours their soul into what they love.

Hufflepuff is giggling with friends in the middle of the night. It’s baking cakes and tossing flour at each other. It’s making flower crowns with your significant other. It’s the feeling you get when you compliment someone. It’s baked bread and sunshine flowing through the windows. Hufflepuff is being fiercely protective and loving until it hurts.

Slytherin is having story sessions at three AM in the morning. It’s willing to kill for the people you love. It’s looking at the stars and holding hands. It’s cuddling with your significant other and playing with their hair. It’s complimenting people and feeling your heart bloom when they smile. It’s putting up strong walls because you care so much. It’s an ambitious dream. Slytherin is being a constantly judged mastermind who loves too deeply.

anonymous asked:

what's the best, most iconic johnlock quote?

Well I will approach this in two ways. ACD Canon quotes and BBC Sherlock quotes.

ACD Canon : 

  • “It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it.” 
  • “You have a grand gift for silence, Watson. It makes you quite invaluable as a companion.” 
  • “I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of daily life.” 
  • “You’re not hurt, Watson? For God’s sake, say that you are not hurt!“ It was worth a wound – it was worth many wounds – to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.” 
  • “I have never loved, Watson, but if I did and if the woman I loved had met such an end, I might act even as our lawless lion-hunter has done. Who knows?” – The Devil’s Foot. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?” – The Three Garridebs.
  • “The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar. He was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and I had become one of them…..I was a whetstone for his mind. I stimulated him. ”
  • “I am lost without my Boswell.”
  • “…If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city…. ”


BBC Sherlock:

  • “You’ve got a boyfriend then? Which is fine by the way.” “I know it’s fine.”
  • “I am happy to play the fool. For you.”
  • “You, it’s always you John Watson. You keep me right.”
  • “I don’t mind.” “Anytime.”
  • “I’m glad no one saw that.” “What?” “You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.”
  • “Take my hand.” “Now people will definitely talk.”
  • “You look sad, when you think he can’t see you.”
  • “I have a date” “that’s what I was suggesting”
  • “It(Sherlock Watson) could work.”
  • “Dinner?” “Starving.”
  • “You are a great boyfriend. Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man…Don’t make me compete with Sherlock Holmes.”
  • “I’m his doctor.” “And only a fool argues with his doctor”
  • “The stuff you wanted to say but never did. Say it now” “No. I can't”
  • “There’s something I’ve always wanted to say but never have”
  • “You being all mysterious with your–cheekbones. And turning your coat collar up so you look cool.”
  • “I’d be lost without my blogger.”
  • “I was so alone. And I owe you so much.”
  • “But look how you care about John Watson. Your damsel in distress.”


There are many. But I have a tendency to forget quotes when someone asks for it. Feel free to add more.

Okay, so what if

Okay, so I know that Black Hat has already seen Flug eat, but what if before, Flug was the kind of masked dude who could somehow eat really fast in the moments that people weren’t looking. Like, he’d have a pizza in his hand and in the moment BH glances away and looks back half the pizza would be gone but Flug’s bag is still on his head. Thus BH just keeps watching Flug, trying to figure out what the heck is going on but for the longest time he is just not able to catch him because he blinks or zones out and misses his chance. And Flug is just doing business as normal, eating hot pockets in two bites. He seems the type too tho, a skinny nerd who puts away a ton of junk food without gaining a single pound, and Black Hat is just obsessed because he can’t figure it out, and he’s like “there’s no way that’s a human under there”

anonymous asked:

I will build you a fucking shrine if you write peter coming out as a bi to tony and tony being like, "hell yeah me too"!!!!!! (I'll probably cry happy tears too)

Okay. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.


He could do this. He could do this. It was all going to be fine. He could do this. 


Fuck. How the hell was anyone supposed to do this?


He checked his watch for the fifteenth time that minute. Tony was currently 12 seconds late. But he was always late, so this was fine. It didn’t mean anything. He was just caught up again. Which was normal. 


Unless he’s found out and now hates me and is going to take the suit away and yell at me and never speak to me ever ever again-


“God, Peter, pull yourself together,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair and then clasping it into a fist in his lap. It was all going to be okay. It was. He just needed to keep breathing.


Fuck. Why was he even here? Why had he called Tony in the first place? Take an hour of your day please, Mr Stark, I need to tell you something that I’ve only just found out myself and is probably something you don’t care about at all anyway-

This was stupid. He should have just waited until it could come up in casual conversation, not….whatever this was. Pulling Tony out of his busy day in order to tell him this stupid thing was…well, it was stupid! 

God, his hands were shaking.


What if Tony reacted badly? What if he got angry? What if…

what if he never wanted anything to do with Peter again?


It happened. He knew it happened. He’d heard all the horror stories. Kids, kicked out of homes by parents who had loved them unconditionally before. Put on the streets because they loved the wrong people.

Not that Tony would ever do that. Peter was scared, but he wasn’t stupid. For starters, Peter didn’t even live with Tony anyway. 
Well. He hung out with Tony in his workshop after school more often than not, and occasionally slept there if Aunt May was doing the nightshift, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t deal without it. He’d been fine before Tony came along.

But that wouldn’t even happen. He was making this out to be bigger than it was. Tony was cool. Tony would be fine. And even if he didn’t like it, he knew that New York still needed Peter on side, so he probably wouldn’t take the suit back, or kick him out. 

Probably.


Suddenly, there was a four-beat knock on the door, and Peter practically flew off the couch in his living room from the surprise.

Okay. Okay. Showtime. 

It was going to be fine.

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I’m a slut for single parent AUs so please imagine:

Yuuri’s daughter is The Cutest Three Year Old Ever and people are literally constantly telling Yuuri this. Yuuri legit thinks it’s because his daughter is So Darn Cute (And really, she is) and doesn’t even notice people squinting feverishly at his hands looking for a wedding ring. He doesn’t know why so many people offer to help him with his groceries, but he thinks it might be because they feel bad for him.

He coaches kid classes at an ice skating rink. His daughter has known how to skate practically since she could walk. They like to go to free skates on the weekends because it gets them out of the house and in among people and Phichit has actually put up a white board in Yuuri’s house that says “It has been ____ days since my last adult interaction” and updates it daily just to shame Yuuri into talking to people who have actually graduated grade school.

It’s one of these weekends that, for some reason only God himself is privy to, Viktor Nikiforov is skating at this rink.

“Oh my God,” Yuuri says, stock still against the boards, clutching his daughter’s hand. 

“Ow, Papa,” she says mildly. She takes after Mari, somehow. A lot of people think she’s Mari’s daughter when they see them together. The world could be coming down around her ears and she would just look around and say this is no fun. 

“Oh my God,” Yuuri says again when Viktor Nikiforov starts skating towards them

“Your daughter is so cute!” says Viktor Nikiforov as he approaches, waving and smiling. Yuuri is dying. Every atom of Yuuri’s being is screaming. “Does she know how to skate?”

“No,” Yuuri says. “No she does not.”

“Can I give her a lesson?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “Yes, she would love that.” 

And that is how my father left me to be kidnapped by Viktor Nikiforov at age three, Hana Katsuki’s future blog post on this subject will read. But it’s all good because Viktor didn’t want to kidnap me, he just wanted to marry my dad. Which he did, two years later. Don’t ask me about the ceremony because all I remember is falling asleep on a pile of coats at the reception.