Can we talk about Thor speaking like a goddamn Asgardian scholar because that shit was frickin' amazing
  • Valkyrie: We need another ship, that will tear mine to pieces
  • Thor: She's right. We need one that can withstand the geodetic strain from the singularities.
  • Thor: Whaddya say, uncharted metagalactic travel through a volatile cosmic gateway?

i’m left wondering tho .. why was this, in dan’s stated opinion, one of the best videos they’ve uploaded to dapg? bc phil made even more non-straight comments than usual? bc casual banter over gummy sweets? maybe the opportunity to mention some Smart Topics like intersectional feminism? to throw out a multisyllabic and edgy phrase like “statistical improbability” and get everyone hYped?  what about it stood out to dan so much that he considers it to be some of their ~best work~ i Need To Know!!

Whoever you are and whatever you’re doing, I want you to carve out some time for yourself to see Call Me By Your Name.

You may have heard talk about how it is a feast for the senses. You may have heard its praises sung for being the most beautiful, slowly-unspooling, joy-and-pain-filled story of falling in love and discovering oneself in recent memory.

If you’ve heard those things, you’ve heard right. It will hollow you out and make you smile and cry and feel some multisyllabic German word I don’t know that means nostalgia and delight and discovery and heartbreak and first-most-painful-and-uncertain love.

Here’s a film that reminds us that cinema is truly an art form.

Go see it wherever and however you can. (Only don’t pirate it, because this is also a film that we should all be giving our money to as proof that artwork like this should be financed and created all the time.)

A seguro, le llevan preso

author’s note: mi escritura española? mierda. verbalizado es que yo se. lo siento. si te hablas espanol y quieres criticar mi espanol, estas bien pero tener en mente, no hablo en me dia a dia vida nunca mas y lo estoy intentando.

join my writing challenge here

author’s note part two: title roughly translates to ‘to be safe, he must be taken prisoner’ this series will heavily feature a main character who on occasion struggles with English and life as the guardian of an Autistic child. I am basing the actions of the Autistic child off of my autistic nephew, please keep in mind that all Autistic children present differently and they’re all equally valid. I’ve never read a fic from the pov of the guardian of a differently abled child but I’m here to fill the niche I suppose. and Tony Stark.

English translations are/will be at the end of the sentence in parenthesis

word count: 1.4k

you ask for enemies to lovers and i give you the first part of a series 

warnings for this part: swearing? maybe? i don’t think there is even any swearing.

warnings for the series: eventual sexy times, foul language, alcohol usage, conflict, i will add more here as the need arises

part two

The doorbell rang and the door upstairs slammed at the same time, undeniably in some plot of the universe to tear your patient disposition right from the core of your being.

Take a deep breath. Not today, universe. Not today.

Alright. Dame poder. (Give me power)

You pulled the wooden door open to reveal exactly who you were expecting. Tony Stark and Maria Hill.

You’d read through the files explaining the goal of the mission. You’d heard Fury and Hill talk you through every facet of the plan. It was still a little hard to wrap your mind around the fact that this was how you were going to be spending the next few- er how you were going to be spending as much time as it takes to clean up the mess. Hopefully not longer than a few weeks, but ‘months’ and ‘year’ had been tossed in the ring after you’d already agreed.

Tony Stark’s name was synonymous with a lack of self control before he became Iron Man. And after he became Iron Man. In all actuality, he had a public image fraught with adultery, drug use, and things that would make the general public think twice about who exactly they let their children idolize. Parents who didn’t let their kids read Harry Potter definitely didn’t allow posters of the Avengers in their kid’s room.

It took a few years and the near dissolution of the Avengers but Fury had decided that Tony’s public image needed a hard reset. That’s where you came in. You were the only safe house left on their roster that had a child in the house and their aim was to make Stark look like the quintessential family man no matter what it took.

Up until now, the poor souls assigned to Stark’s PR team had been leaking tidbits about Stark’s transition out of the limelight as him “growing up and moving in with his longterm girlfriend”. You weren’t actually his girlfriend, in fact you’d never met the man up until this point, but the public didn’t need to know that. All they needed to know was that Tony Stark was a responsible man who could be trusted to continue to do his job as he always had.

Why anyone took the bait and accepted that Stark would move out of his well equipped compound just to move into a house in the middle of nowhere, you didn’t quite understand. But it was the situation and you were being paid to make any public appearances seem as believable as possible and to essentially babysit him when not in public. Bottom line, Tony was moving in, and today was the lucky day.

“Right on time!” you broke into a smile at the sight of Maria. You’d known her for a few years, the two of you weren’t incredibly close but you’d shared a few bottles of wine and that had to count for something.

“As promised.” Hill responded, mirroring your smile. Tony didn’t seem to be keyed into the conversation just yet, seemingly more interested in passively looking around the parts of your house that he could see from his porch step vantage point until you invited them in.

“I really can’t. I have to get back to work. The drive here took longer than expected and I’ve got a meeting this afternoon. We have to catch up soon, though. Tell the boy that I will get a smile out of him eventually.” You nodded and thanked her for making the trip.

Stark seemed a little as if he was trying to dissect your accent. It was slight, but it was there and clear to anyone not used to being around people who didn’t speak English as a first language. Softened consonants here and plosives lost between vowels. T’s a little more distinct and longer multisyllabic words were slowed just a bit to cater to how they would be pronounced in your native tongue.

“Alright.” you turned to Tony with a slight pep in your step. “Ready for the grand tour?” you were expecting a response of some kind but all you really got was a dispirited glare from the man. He was clearly jazzed to be there.

You gave him an excuse in your head; he had been coerced into being there. Not that his punishment for being a PR disaster was particularly harsh.

“Let’s get into it then.” you beckoned him inside and shut the door after him. He readjusted his suitcase behind him and shifted under the weight of his backpack. “Where are my manners? Let’s get you to your room first so you can drop all that stuff and we can get on with the tour. Sound good?” you smiled at him again, hoping for some sort of reciprocation.

No such luck. You lead him through the living room and down the hall. “Here’s your room. Second door on the left. I changed out the lock so you have the only key to the room; it’s on the dresser.” you walked into the room to allow to Tony to pull his bag in. “Your bathroom is attached and there are extra sheets in the linen closet in the hallway. You’re welcome to roam the house as much as you please but I would ask you extend the same courtesy that we are extending you and not enter anyone else’s bedroom without permission.” you made a point of taking a large step back into the hallway to show that you weren’t in his room anymore.

“Please feel free to make yourself at home as this is going to be your home for the foreseeable future. We-”

“It’s not my home.” he interrupted.

“¿Perdóname?” you were caught off guard to say the least.

“I have a home already. Says my name on it in bright shining letters. This isn’t my home. This is a guest bedroom of a house of a woman I don’t know. I didn’t ask to be here and quite honestly if we could keep this as professional as possible, that’d be great. I don’t know what Hill and Fury told you about me, but I don’t want to be here.” he spoke with a firm authoritative tone.

You were stunned. Never in all your time of acting as a safehouse for those who need it had you ever had someone treat you so unkindly for offering them a place in your home. Offering them a place in your heart.

“Okay Mr. Stark. Maria and Nick told me a lot about you that I elected to ignore as you should get the opportunity to forge your own path here. I thought you’d want to make your own first impression. If you’d rather be professional, I’ll lay down the rules right now and we can be done.”

He nodded slightly as you crossed your arms in front of your stomach.

“First off, don’t ever interrupt me. You are a guest in my home and I won’t allow it. Secondly, dinner is at 7pm everyday. That’s when I serve dinner, you don’t have to be there, but I would expect you’d like to eat. Next, the young boy upstairs is named Francisco. He’ll probably ask you to call him Frankie if you speaks to you at all. He is Autistic. If I catch you so much as breathe the wrong way around him, I will have you removed from my home, no questions asked.” you pulled a piece of paper out of your pocket and a pen off the dresser while you spoke.

“This is my phone number as a professional courtesy. I work weekdays from nine to four and Frankie goes to school. He has swim practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays and therapy on Mondays and Fridays. There is a calendar on the fridge that will tell you all of this but I doubt you care much for family calendars. Curfew house wide is 9pm. No one is to open the front or back door after 9. If you’re out after that, you can sleep on the porch. Frankie depends on a strict schedule and your intrusion on our life isn’t going to change that.” you stated plainly and thrust the paper and pen into his hands and turned to leave.

“A mal nudo, mal cuño. Dinner. 7.” you posited as you walked away, quietly relishing the stunned look on Tony’s face. (The way it’s always been used in my life would be translated to something similar to fight fire with fire but not *that* verbatim, you get me?)

White Christmas feat. The AAA Girls (RPDR Fic exchange challenge) - Mistress

Requested by @collidinggalaxiesofstars hai friend! *waves*
Plot suggested by Remeney

Summary: During an imaginary AAA Girls Australia tour, the gals happen to be Down Under over December 24th. Alaska and Willam pine for the snowy Christmases of their youths, and Courtney comes up with a solution to cheer up her American friends.

Authors Note: hi i live in southern arizona and we get snow like… one week a year and that snow melts by the afternoon so I’m working with a knowledge of snow exclusively from movies and my East Coast/Canadian friends. TW for one destigmatized use of ‘queer’

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Like old times

A/N: written for day 1 of @fuckyeahdwightcaroline’s carolight fanfic week! This is a missing moment set between episodes 6 and 7 of season 3. WARNING: cavity inducing fluff, call ur dentist. *throws candy floss into the air*
Enjoy, friends! xo


Two thoroughbred horses trotted side by side in the warm August sun. One of the rider’s, Caroline, babbled excitedly about how Clowance, she swore it, had said her name upon her visit to Nampara yesterday.
Dwight knew, given that Clowance was scarce 9 months old, that it was quite impossible that she had managed to say a word as multisyllabic as ‘Caroline’, but he would not spoil his wife’s childlike excitement. He thought she looked especially beautiful today, wearing a purple cloak he had never seen before.

He wore an old black waistcoat and his favourite grey coat. They both suited him well, of course, but Caroline would much prefer to see him in some of the more fashionable pieces she had recently bought. Although, so long as he wore anything besides that blue naval uniform, he could very well be in his breeches for all she could care.
She pulled on the reins until her horse came to a halt, an idea forming in her head. “My dear, do you see the sand dunes just over there?” She pointed straight ahead. “Shall we race, like old times?”

He smiled at her. “Why not?”

She returned his smile. “On my count. One… two…,” she spurred her horse. “Three!”
She giggled competitively as she sped across the meadow.

“Damn it!” Dwight determinedly spurred his horse and chased his cheating wife; managing to catch up with her just before they reached their agreed finish line.

“You’re an accomplished rider, my dear.” She had to admit she was quite impressed with his ability to match her pace, especially given he was not yet fully recovered, in body or spirit.

“Am I not a man of many talents?”

“The use of which would not be possible, were it not for I,” she teased him in fond remembrance. “I believe.”
They beamed at each other. It may have been two years since that exchange on the beach but the passing of time had not lessened the butterflies that fluttered violently within their stomachs.

She glanced sideways at him before dismounting her horse and stumbling down the sand dunes. His cheeks were noticeably fuller and only a few marks from the sores remained on his neck. “My prescription of fresh air and oranges appears to be working wonders,” she commented, satisfied with the improvement.

He approached her with a warm smile on his face - that familiar smile which fully reached his eyes again - and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You forget your other antidote: kisses without end,” he murmured, pecking his lips repeatedly. “I daresay it has been as valuable as its predecessors.”

“As you say, Dr. Enys. Kisses are the cure for everything!” She linked arms with him and began their traditional peaceful Sunday walk, while the majority of the county attended church. She pointed towards the rocky features on the other side of the beach. “Demelza tells me of The Holy Well. It is found in a hollow between the rocks over there and,” she paused for dramatic effect. “It is said that any wish one makes there is destined to come true. Shall we go wander?” She smiled up at him and tugged him along girlishly.

He quickly, but carefully, blocked her way and placed a finger under her chin and lifted it up until her lips brushed against his. He grinned and looked into her eyes, which were somehow bluer than the clear sky above them. “If you wish so, my love. But I’ve no need. I have all that I wish for right here.”

coffeeshop au

“You have a front,” someone said in his ear.

It was true, Wirt reflected to himself. He did put up a front. Though Halloween had long passed, still he covered up his true face with a mask of calm collection, just as still waters on the surface of a lake could hold deep turbulence within them. But a mask is a flimsy disguise, and anyway, it wasn’t as though he’d even worn a real mask for his Halloween costume–imagine if he’d gotten stuck in the Unknown while wearing a plastic superhero mask or something. Would it have stayed on? Maybe he’d have gotten lucky and the mask would have been knocked aside as he fell in the water, just as his metaphorical mask had been.

“Front,” said the voice impatiently.

“Oh, right,” he said, dropping his wet cloth and scrambling to hit his mic button. “Sorry, sorry, I’ve got it.” Wirt wadded up the cloth into a ball and tossed it in the sanitizer bucket, almost slipping on the puddle it made as he skidded to the register.

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For instance, Dad had a very unique yawn. He didn’t just plain old “I’m tired” yawn. Dad’s yawns were multisyllabic and he made the most of every one. Dad’s yawn had flourish. The sound was something like “aaaaa yeeee haaaaw haaaaaw.” It had volume. It was an announcement. The big bear part of Dad, standing tall, head back, arms outstretched to the world, announced that his day was complete. It was time for rest. His yawns were celebratory. As if to say, “Another day well done.”

- Jennifer Grant, Good Stuff: A Reminiscence of My Father, Cary Grant

anonymous asked:

Agreed! Fool's gold would imply that liam led zayn on at some point, which he did not. Howdo you feel about where do broken hearts go being liam's heartfelt apology to zayn after the bad religion days??

Nonny, I need to break something to you. The so-called “bad religion” period is a myth. It never happened! Zayn didn’t pine unrequitedly. LIAM ALWAYS LOVED ZAYN BACK. 

cold hard facts under the cut.

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If you're using syllable structured form in poetry....
newyearsjay answered your question: I get confused with syllables…is the word neon one or two?

I would say two

elibird replied to your post: I get confused with syllables…is the word neon one or two?

2 in my book. Knee-on.

That’s what I thought, but the first and third syllable counters I tried indicated one. I guess with poetry, you can play hard and fast with the specifics of syllables to make the phrase work.

So I’m trying out creating some Tanka poetry. It’s a five line Japanese form in which the syllables you use in each line works like this; 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. I had the bare bones of a poem sitting in my drafts page for over a year, and decided to restructure it into Tanka when I couldn’t get to sleep last night.

“Neon” is a strange one, because if you think of the sounds of a word starting and ending with the opening and closing of the mouth, then neon would just be one syllable. If you say it faster than you would usually say it, it feels like just one syllable, but in regularly speed it feels like it should be two.

So how do y'all feel about multies?
  • So how do y'all feel about multies? Personally, I like them. I use them and they offer a more creative challenge to your writing, especially when starting out. I find them easy when staying simple, but once you add more syllables to rhyme to like 4 or 6, well, I sometimes find myself stuck in a rut after that. Then once you use certain rhyme schemes like a..."ABBACC" rhyme scheme, you get a kinda good feel about yourself. For the record, I've never done that.
Our fandom...

…our fandom is an intelligent fandom!  No matter how much we may squee like tiny girls, we are smart.  Smarty-smart smart.  This is one of the very first things that struck me - in the most brilliant of ways - when I first got here.

This shows so much in the fanfiction we read and write.  I have been so impressed by so many authors who write fic that is conceptually complex and often multisyllabic.  Authors who know words like “alevolus” (plural “alveoli,” heh) and “susurration” and don’t shy away from little nods (or paragraph-long nods!) to quantum mechanics or the finer subtleties of alien (or human) biology.  And so on.

Our beloved authors are also really, really creative and I have been floored by the many ways this is expressed.

I know this is a rather general post, but I really wanted to express my love for everyone who dares to write and post anything!  Because I, for one, am quite proud of all of you!  (Oh, yes, I am an educator - does it show? :P)

You are fantastic!