net 5


Trump taps billionaire investor Carl Icahn to advise him on slashing regulations

  • Trump named 80-year-old investor Carl Icahn as a “special adviser on regulatory reform.”
  • Icahn is a conservative business magnate with an estimated net worth of $16.5 billion.
  • The job basically boils down to smashing decades of business regulations opposed by conservatives.
  • Both Trump and Icahn believe they’re a key drag on the economy is a burdensome regulatory sector. Read more

Trump creates a cabinet position for Kellyanne Conway

  • Trump announced Thursday that he created a position for his campaign manager and top surrogate Kellyanne Conway.
  • He’s named her counselor to the president. In the role, Conway will help advise and craft Trump’s message, according to a press release.
  • Conway was in the mix to become Trump’s press secretary but declined the role. Read more
she’s a mystery (and i love her) // m.c.

a/n: this is in a different format than i normally write in, but i do hope you enjoy it! written on a whim after looking at some quotes about writing :-)

masterlist | other michael works

She sits at the corner table in the back, typing away mercilessly at her laptop with a cup of coffee and a muffin sat next to her. The muffin has been picked at, nothing but the bottom half and some crumbs left. She always ate like that; the top and left the bottom. He never understood why. He never really understood much about her. She was a mystery, locked behind many doors of secrets and whispers and stories that she’s never finished but they still mean as much to her as any other. She’s a mystery, and he loves her for it. 

She’s chewing on her bottom lip as her eyes flicker from the keyboard to the screen. He wants to know what she’s writing. There’s a gleam in her eyes that tells him it’s something important, but then again everything she writes is important. Everything she writes has a meaning woven into the letters individually, wrapped into a word with a bow. 

She’s mesmerizing. Michael was warned not to fall in love with a writer, and now he knew why. She tears apart everything, ripping it at its soul to assess its core, smiling when she finally figures it out. Everything she does is light, even when she writes about the boy who stands behind the counter wondering when his life will really begin. She speaks with confidence even when it’s fake. Her trails of kisses that lead from his neck to his stomach are laced with stories just like everything she does. She remembers all of their arguments, all the words he said to her stay locked in her brain, waiting to be used against him one day. She never would do that though. She loves him too much, and sometimes he wishes she didn’t. 

She’s a writer. She can create worlds and bend them at her will. She makes these perfectly crafted characters that have backgrounds she finds herself falling in love with. Michael can never be that; he’s the boy behind the counter. He’s the one admiring her while she writes a story about someone in another world that she desperately wants to visit. 

He loves her, though. 

The best part is when they’re laying in bed together, and she tells him about what goes on in her brain. Even when she’s not writing, she’s a writer. She uses words that he doesn’t know (so he googles them afterwards to find out the meaning), she speaks in a language that sounds familiar but he just can’t place his finger on it. He wants to know all that she knows, wants to absorb her knowledge and her love and her everything. She’s his whole world; the sky, the sun, the stars, the warmth that crawls over his skin in the morning and kisses him with passion and love. She is everything that he’s ever asked for, and he can’t believe he got so lucky. 

She would never admit to it, but she’s written him down in all of her stories. In the warm sun that bears down on the protagonist. In the road that leads the characters to safety. In the happy ending that presents itself in all of her stories—unfinished or not. Just as she is everything to Michael, Michael is everything to her. 

Michael sits down in front of her and smiles. Their relationship is built on this; Sunday mornings at the café, sitting in silence as she writes, admiring all her features. They then go out for lunch, and Michael insists on going home afterwards so they can cuddle on the couch (which may or may not end up in Michael on top of her with his hands on her waist and his lips on her neck). Michael doesn’t mind the way their relationship is set up. He doesn’t mind that she’s a writer and therefore remembers everything and writes down all of her dreams. He doesn’t mind that she tries to keep it a secret that she writes about him. 

He doesn’t mind because, well, he loves her. And falling in love with a writer means you fall in love with the twists and turns of their mind, and their love that runs deep through the spines of their writings. 

Not Ticklish

Originally posted by hansolence

Pairing: Reader x Vernon

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 866

A/N: Hello! I actually wrote another scenario, wow. Look at me, I’m a writer now lol. Anyway, I hope this is going to be as good as the last one and a bunch (yes, a whole bunch) of upcoming ones. I’m thinking of writing a bigger story eventually~ Big thanks to @hansolmates for proofreading <3

“Alright,” you sighed. You draped your handbag over your shoulder and made your way to the door, “I hate to leave but you’ve got to get ready for your flight.”

Your boyfriend stood right behind you, pouting like a five-year-old, “But, it’s not even close to six!” He firmly wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you like a teddy bear.

You loved it when he gave you back hugs. Your tendency to be overly serious would always vanish at his touch. Of course, this time it did just as well. You automatically placed your hands over his and shut your eyes, taking in every moment. The fact that’d you’d be missing him was overstated.

“Stay,” he mumbled into your back, pressing his forehead against it. Not letting go of your waist, he placed his jaw in the crook of your neck, his lips gently brushing against your skin. You immediately flinched and let out a giggle, leaving him a little confused.

Vernon was the most ticklish person you’d ever met, besides yourself. And somehow, after all of this time that you two spent together, he didn’t know that you were just as ticklish, maybe even more.

“Y/N,” he started, tilting his head slightly. You noticed that a sneaky grin had spread across his face and you bit your lip, realizing what you had just unwillingly revealed to him. “Are you by any chance ticklish?”

“NO!” you flinched, trying harder to escape his grasp. But he held on, grinning all the while.

“I am not ticklish at all, Vernon. Not even a little bit, okay? You’re the ticklish one.” You kept rambling on about how you were absolutely not ticklish, repeating the word over and over again. You’d hoped your endless blabbering would distract him in any way and loosen his hold on you.

“Okay.” He said, finally letting go and took a step back. You turned to face him. With a suspiciously nervous smile on your lips, you waited for any kind of reaction.

His dark caramel eyes were glued to yours, a faint glint of mischief gleaming in them. He raised his brows playfully and that’s when you realized what he had in mind.

“Vernon,” you croaked raising your hands in surrender, “Don’t.”

And before you could turn and run in any direction, he swooped you off your feet. Something resembling a shriek escaped your mouth as he hung your small figure over his shoulder. You were more concerned about him losing his balance than the tickle attacks that you knew were coming any moment. But he held on quite firmly, chuckling at the incoherent curse words that you kept mumbling in-between screams and giggles.

“Not ticklish, Y/N?” He laughed, barely keeping his balance as you started wiggling out of his grasp.

“No!” you yelped, laughing and clutching onto the back of his shirt.

Your denial wasn’t getting you anywhere good and that’s when his hands moved up your waist. You absolutely hated being tickled. You were actually terrified of it because it never just made you laugh; it made you cry.

Your shrieks and laughs filled the room. His fingers surprisingly gently ran up and down your back and waist. How his balance wasn’t yet faltered was a mystery to you. And just as that thought popped into your head, the back of his knees found the edge of the bed.

He fell back on the unmade mess of sheets, with you still in his arms. Once another scream left your mouth he froze, propping himself up quickly. Gaping at you with wide eyes he asked, “Are you hurt?!”

You buried your face in your hands, not looking up at him until his alertness faded. The moment his grasp on you loosened you shot up, “Ha!”

The words oh shit formed on his lips as you propped yourself on your knees and draped your arms around his neck.

“I’m… sorry?” he bit his lip, smiling innocently.

“Too late,” you grinned and dropped your weight onto him. You ran your fingers all over his body, ignoring the exact same shrieks, that he made you utter just a couple of seconds ago, come from him.

“Are you not ticklish, Vernon?” you laughed as you placed little kisses on his neck as well. Your hair ends brushing against his flushed cheeks.

“Not…at…all!” he interjected between his loud giggling and twitching. You kept on tickling him, knowing you’d eventually break through his stubborn protests.

In less than a second, he raised his hands in surrender, laughing with each word “Fine! Fine! You win! You win, Y/N! Just please stop!”

You abruptly stopped, a satisfied grin lining your lips. “I’ll miss you,” you cooed breathlessly and lowered your face so it was just an inch from his.

His expression relaxed into a sweet, warmer one, “I’ll miss you too,” he replied as he cupped your cheeks.

He gave you a quick peck on your lips before dropping his full weight down on the mattress, “But, let’s never tickle each other again.”

“Hey, you started it,” you complained and plopped down next to him. Wrapping your arm around his torso, you eventually agreed, “but yes. No tickle fights…Ever.”


In bringing this collection to a close, I decided to take it back to the start.

You can also find this fic here:


The first time she kissed him, he tasted like butterbeer and something distinctly James. The combination made her head swim, her heart pound, and her body crave him, his mouth, his body, his skin against hers.

It was a crisp October afternoon, the first Hogsmeade weekend of their seventh year, and Lily had finally said yes, enthusiastically yes, to James’ Hogsmeade proposal. He’d been stunned at first, thought she was having him on, made worse by the fact that instead of answering his desperate enquiry of “Are you serious?!” she’d said, “No, but your brother is,” winked at the tall, wavy haired man next to him, and walked off. She never could resist a Sirius joke. Neither, she knew, could Sirius, and his barking laughter followed her down the corridor. James, unwilling to leave things on such unsure footing, chased her down the corridor and took her hand. “You’re actually saying yes?” He’d said, the words quiet and deep and fast, his eyes searching her face and when Lily broke into a smile he looked like he’d been stunned. “Yes, James. I’m actually saying yes.”

He’d dragged her down to Hogsmeade as soon as they’d finished breakfast that morning, though ‘finished’ is perhaps not quite the right word. James had practically inhaled an entire bowl of porridge, his knee bouncing incessantly under the table, and Lily had barely had time to grab a few pieces of toast before his hand was in hers and he was hauling her away from the table.

She was shouting indignantly and shoving bites of toast into her mouth as he pulled her into the brisk morning air, but his hand was warm in hers and the electricity shooting through her veins kept her from protesting too fiercely against the disruption of her breakfast. Instead, she gripped his hand more firmly in her own, bumped her hip against his playfully - “You better feed me today, Potter, or you’re dead.” His eyes were sparkling with amusement when he smiled back at her, “On my honour, Evans.”

When they got to the gates, James had stopped them, moving to stand in front of her, his eyes moving over her face, and Lily’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at him because he was just too damn beautiful to be real and how had she never realised it before? She wanted to grab him right there and kiss him, but they hadn’t even had their date yet and she knew how long he’d been waiting for this, so she ran her tongue along the back of her teeth and bit the corner of her lip in an attempt to control herself. But he was still looking at her like that, like she was everything, the only thing in the world, and the air was crackling with so much electricity that she could taste it on her tongue when she pulled in a deep breath. He blinked and smiled an embarrassed smile before reaching up and taking his scarf from around his neck. “Here,” he said, grinning at her, “You look cold.”

His fingers burned trails across her skin as he tied the scarf securely around her, and she swallowed the desperate reply that was bubbling up in her, opting to thank him quietly instead. It was the exact opposite of everything she normally would have done and she knew James had noticed because he’d cocked an amused eyebrow at her as they began walking again, but she couldn’t trust her mouth because it was begging her to either taste every centimetre of his skin or tell him how she thought she might actually, desperately, be falling in love with him and neither of those were options while they were making their way to the high street on their first official date.

The morning was a whirlwind of sound and colour - they went into all her favourite shops, he detailed everything he’d ever planned for all those rejected dates, her cheeks flushed with a bit more than the cold when she told him that she was glad he’d finally earned her attention. She tried to remember all the details, commit it all to memory, because she knew this was something she’d want to remember, that it was one of those rare moments you realise, as it’s happening, that you need to set it down, to carve it into your memory, because this moment, this day is going to be one that changes the rest of your life. But no matter how hard she tried to step back, to catalogue the details, she couldn’t. He was overwhelming, he was, and she couldn’t focus on anything but the rush in her stomach that was slowly burning a hole through her when she looked at him.

They ducked into The Three Broomsticks for lunch, he cracked jokes and she tossed chips at his head. They drank bottles of butterbeer and she pretended not to notice the stunned look on his face when she brushed her foot against his calf under the table. His eyes welled up when he talked about his parents, she took his hand and talked about her sister, they talked about the future. It was easy to talk to him and they talked about everything.

They fought, of course, over who would pay the bill when it came and, though James won, she grumbled about it while they waited for Rosmerta to return with his change. James pocketed a handful of coins as he stood, laughing as Lily said, “I can pay for myself, James, bloody hell,” and took her hand. They walked out of the pub and the cold air was a shock after the warm, smoky air of the pub. “You can pay next time,” James said, grinning down at her and Lily cocked her eyebrow, “Who said there’s going to be a next time?”

He stopped in the middle of the high street, turning to face her and raising his eyebrows - he studied her before he smirked and moved his hands to her hips. “Now Evans,” he said, his fingers brushing along the hem of her jumper, “I know you don’t mean that.”

The retort was on the tip of her tongue, but, recognising the opportunity, she grinned instead. “No, I don’t,” and she reached up, wound her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, and pulled his mouth to hers.

She would, over time, run her tongue along all the lines of his skin, tracing him, finding every sensitive part of his body and memorising it and the way it felt against her lips, the way the salt and spice of his skin lingered on her tongue. But now, right now, with his mouth on hers, his fingers sliding along the exposed skin at her waist, all she could think was more. She needed him, every part of him, and she knew then that she would never, ever get enough.

She didn’t care that people were probably gawking at them, that they could see just how desperately she was pressing her body against his. The taste of him was driving her mad and she shouldn’t be held responsible for any acts of public indecency she might be in the process of committing. She bit down lightly on his bottom lip, smiling at the groan that escaped him, before he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes were shining with want and mischief and she could tell just how much effort it was taking for him to control himself. It mirrored, but probably didn’t quite match, the restraint she was exercising over herself.

“You can’t be doing that to me in public, Evans. We’re supposed to be setting an example. What kind of Heads are we?” Lily grinned and pressed her hips against his, “Maybe we should go back up to the castle then, if you’re going to be such a stickler for the rules.”

He smiled so broadly she thought his face might crack with the effort and she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her when he was looking at her like that, grinning stupidly at her in the middle of the high street like he’d just won the bloody lottery. She knew how he felt though, her lips were still tingling, her skin still humming, and she completely understood, now, what it felt like to have your entire body come alive, burst into flame, when you’re with someone. She craved it, never wanted it to end - James had ignited a fire in her gut that she hoped, no, knew, would never burn out.

She stepped away from him, grabbed his hand firmly in her own, and turned towards the castle.


2016-17 Goals Game 56/82 (vs Winnipeg Jets)

Goal 1: Kane (passes Tony Amante for sole possession of 6th on the all time Blackhawks list, and he becomes the team’s leading US-born goal scorer, scoring his 269th career goal)
Goal 2: Anisimov
Goal 3: Keith
Goal 4: Hossa (Short-handed/Empty Net - his 519th goal passes Dale Hawerchuck for sole posession of 36th on the all time NHL career goals list, and with his 20th goal of the season he becomes the 26th player in NHL history with 15 seasons with at least 20 goals)
Goal 5: Panarin (Empty Net)
Bonus Gif 1: Crow makes an AMAZING stop on Perrault
Bonus Gif 2: Seabrook plays backup goalie, helping Crow save a goal.
Bonus Gif 3: Crow makes an AMAZING stop through traffic

The Stages of How I Became A Shipper

1. I love this movie/book/manga/anime/cartoon/etc…!

2. I think so-so and so-so would be a great couple!

3. OMG, there are fanworks of the couple I want!

4. Fanfiction and fanart!

5.! Tame fics though. T rated because I would never read M or NC-17!

6. AO3! My standards have lowered. Bring on the NC-17 and NSFW ANY TIME!

7. Tumblr tag of my ship.

8. Joining in on ship related happenings.

9. Obsession growing.

10. Already writing my own NC-17 content of my ship!


12. I’m going to hell.

key to my heart (don’t you dare lose it) // l.h.

WC: 764
// mountains crumble, he gets dragged into the sea, and all because of you.

His favorite thing about the ocean was how the water met with edge of the world. The colors of the sunset blended with the clear water, and somehow he knew everything would be okay eventually. The light would dim, the edges morphed into one—like you and him—and the world sighed. The waves would quietly crash onto the sand, they would wrap their hands around his ankles while whispering that they were going to mend his heart. He felt at peace. Then you would come into his view, your hair would dance into the wind, the shine in your eyes would reflect off the sun, and the waves were no longer peaceful. They grabbed him with great force, dragging him to the unfaithful seas. No longer whispering sweetly, they would taunt him. Times up, they would sneer. It’s time to wake up.

He should have known that it wouldn’t last. Everything comes to an end; a piece of cake, a tv program, a fiery love that turns to ice cold bitterness. The worst thing about it, about the whole summer, was your endless disagreement that you would survive the year. You didn’t believe—you didn’t have faith—that the three month relationship would last beyond that. It was great what you had; you didn’t think that you felt any happier than when you were with him. But seasons change, the leaves fall off the trees, and love always drowns. He was falling in love with you, so he would fight off the choking hold the waves had on him. He would punch and kick and scream—all for you. He wasn’t going to let your love die.

But you were.

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golden-state-mind  asked:

Please tell us some info about the solutions project! I think it's a wonderful proposition and I so wish more people knew about it!! I truly think that team's got something amazing and I just wish more people would support it and fund it to put it into action because I think it could truly change the world. :) is about accelerating the inevitable transition away from fossil fuels to abundant and Clean Renewable energy. We have worked with Stanford Professor Mark Jacobson to create plans to take every state in the USA and every country in the world to 100% clean energy by 2050. Wind, Water And Sun, no nukes and no burning anything for our energy. It is a grand scale plan that will create a net gain of 3.5 million jobs in the USA alone promising more jobs than will be lost by making this transition. More that that it shows us the way to a world where we are not fighting wars over our energy interests, we are not sending 250k people a year in the US to early deaths because of fossil fuel pollution, we are not poisoning our food, water and air by using extreme energy extraction, and we are saving our people trillions of dollars in energy cost by simply harvesting what is falling down all around us in sunlight and moving all around us in wind and water. Best of all we get to put all the money we are wasting on energy wars and health care for pollution and paying for extraction and putting that money into our schools and communities. TBy making this inevitable transition we are creating a more just world for us to live in. I urge you to check it. Its a beautiful elegant plan built mostly by the graduate students at Stanford over the course of the last six years.