never younger

absolutehush  asked:

I saw your tweet about starting to watch enterprise, but I don't know how to use Twitter so i figured I'd ask on Tumblr- where would you recommend starting? I watched some enterprise when I was younger and never really got into it, but i rly want to learn more about the trekverse

don’t watch it! enterprise is famously bad, and i’m only watching the pilot episode for work purposes. it sucks!! however, i would highly recommend star trek’s original series, and DS9. (TNG is also good, but it’s not to my tastes.) u can basically watch TOS eps at random from “best of” lists, but DS9 should be watched sequentially.

anyone else kinda terrified you’ll never be able to hold a job in the future because of your mental illness

anonymous asked:

What's your take on the world ending for the Greek Gods? Or when they cease to be relevant to mankind, and what happens to them? Would Athena, Aphrodite and Artemis take the streets and march for Pride? Would Demeter be the manager at a zoo?

Time passes. The world changes. Temples fall. People now speak their names as if they are fairytales.

The gods are dead.

~

Apollo’s chariot lies broken and forgotten in the ruins of a city no one knows the name of anymore. He watches the sun crawl across the sky of its own volition, without him to push it forward.

“Do you miss it?” Artemis asks him, appearing by his side.  They stand at the top of a sparkling glass building, almost the same as ever. She walks among the mortals more than he does, she always has, and She’s dressed like one of them. Tight clothes and half her head shaved, sparkling gems curling up the delicate shell of her ear. She looks like one of the teenagers that fill his concert stadiums.

He thinks of the way his chariot threatened to escape his grasp every morning, the oppressive heat of the sun beating down on him, the burns and the undercurrent of fear that one day he would lose his grip on the reins and plunge the world into darkness.

Apollo leans his head on his sister’s shoulder. The sun rises slower without him, but it rises just the same. “No. Not really.”

~

Hephaestus’s workshop has evolved with the times – from a volcano base to a modern lab, but always a workshop bursting with creation. The cyclopes are still his best assistants.

Aphrodite steps over discarded parts and expertly walks around frantic cyclopes carrying bubbling concoctions. Her dark hair is swept up in a bun and she wears chunky glasses and a blood red pantsuit that almost hides the fact she’s the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. “I have a client, try not to blow up the house. Again.”

“Yes dear,” he says, but doesn’t looks away from his soldering. She hadn’t expected him too. His prosthetics are off and on the floor besides him, and he’s seated on a too-tall chair to compensate for the loss of height.

She reaches out and carefully touches the corner of his eye. Crow’s feet have started to work their way onto his face. They’re getting old. “It’s the couple that’s fighting because he wants kids and she doesn’t want to carry any kids but doesn’t want to say that. It would probably be easier if I just told them to adopt and threw them out the window.”

“Yes dear,” he repeats, sparks flying. A few land on her, but she doesn’t burn. Of course.

She moves her hand up and pushes it through his hair and resists the urge to pull him from his work and abandon her own so they can make out on his worktable. “I love you.”

Aphrodite turns to leave, but Hephaestus grabs her wrist and pulls her back. He holds up a single copper lily, the edges of the petals still glowing with heat it had taken to shape them. He carefully slides the stem into her hair so it sits at the base of her bun. He grazes her bottom lip with his thumb as he pulls his hand back to his side. “Yes dear.”

~

Demeter rages.

She makes imprudent deals to control an earth that no longer falls under her domain, and she enacts her revenge against the mortals in whatever way she can. They have forgotten her, forgotten the earth, and in their ignorance they seek to destroy it.

She shakes the bedrock and splits it open, but still they do not learn, and as the temperature of the earth rises so does her temper.

The sea is not hers to command, her power is of earth and of earth alone, and even now she gave more than could afford to lose to keep her grasp on it. But these mortals do not learn.

Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to the crumbling remains of Olympus and makes an even worse one.

Typhoons and hurricanes whip across the land. If they seek to destroy her, she will simply destroy them first.

~

Hera sits on a pure white couch in an elegant mansion, smiling for the journalist seated across from her.

“What do you think is the most influential decision you ever made?” he asks, “If you could pinpoint the success of your business to one moment, what would it be?”

She tilts her head as the light of the camera flashes. “Why, divorcing my husband, of course.”

“Would that be your advice to young women hoping to be as successful as you?” he asks, “To not get married?”

Hera thinks of thousands of years by Zeus’s side, and how little it got her. She thinks of Hestia’s men, and Artemis’s women, of Hephaestus’s love for Aphrodite, of the way Hades softened the sharpest of Persephone’s edges.

She says, “Do not get married to someone who makes you less than you are. If you are not a better person for being together than apart, then do not be together. It’s as simple as that.”

Simple, but not easy.

Leaving Zeus was the hardest thing she’s ever done.

~

Persephone isn’t forced to spend half the year on the mortal earth anymore. She goes when she pleases, which isn’t often.

Sometimes she’ll sit by Artemis’s side while she brings a new life into the world and holds the warm, wriggly child first. She visits hospitals and makes the flowers bloom out of season, and spends long hours sitting under the sun and feeling it’s warmth touch her face.

Hades left his realm rarely before, and even more rarely now. More people are being born than ever, meaning more people are dying than ever. Their realm is massive, comprising of all the dead of several millennia. Hades and Hecate spend their days as always – desperately trying to expand the realm so that they don’t all have to live on top of each other.

“Have you heard?” she asks one day, seated on his desk and leaning across it so he can’t work on the latest draft for another level of their realm. “The gods are dead.”

He gives up on attempting to tug it out from underneath her. “Are they? That’s odd, none of them are here.”

Persephone doesn’t bother to hide her smile. They haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe they never will. But when death comes for them, as death does for all, it will be to Hades and Persephone’s door they are brought. Hades himself will usher Gaia and Amphitrite into the underworld, when the time comes.

That time is not today.

“Darling, I really do need to work on this,” he ineffectually tugs on the map again.

She pushes him back into the chair, climbing on top of him and pressing their foreheads together. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” he agrees, and obligingly moves his head so Persephone can nibble at his neck. He manages a whole thirty seconds before going, “I mean, I really do, Hecate said if I didn’t have a plan by the time she leaves for the mortal realm tomorrow, I’ll either have to wait until she gets back or do it by myself, and I’d really prefer to do neither–”

Persephone kisses him to shut him up, twisting and pushing them through the realm so they land on their bed. “I’ll help you finish it later. Focus on me now.”

Hades doesn’t answer, but he does flip them so he’s above her and reaches below her skirt, so she’ll take that as agreement.

~

Hestia sits around a bonfire, watching a group of teenagers get drunk and dance around the flames. They’ll never be younger than right now, never feel as much love for each other as they do right now.

She is besides an old man who warms his hands from the fire coming from an abandoned trash can.

She lies on a bed as a girl lights two dozen candles around it as a surprise for when her lover gets home.

She watches a young man make dinner for his boyfriend for the first time and burn the chicken on both sides. They eat it together anyway.

She sits on the kitchen counter when a sister takes out a pie from the oven, made special for her little brother’s birthday.

She is there when a father ticks the thermostat up high in freezing dawn of morning so it will be warm by the time his wife and children awaken.

Most people don’t have hearths anymore. But there is warmth, and love, and for Hestia that is enough.

~

As their names fade from existence, as his name is called less and less on the battlefields of mortal men, the more Ares sleeps.

He falls asleep in too tall trees and on park benches. He sleeps in seedy motel rooms and naps in every one of Athena’s libraries. He sleeps curled up on a chair in Aphrodite’s office, and on the floors of a lot of veteran resource centers. As fast as he can tell, that’s the most they help any veteran.

Still, his favorite place to sleep is the underworld.

He goes knocking on Orpheus’s door, who is always willing to play for him. “Hades is here,” Eurydice says, “Would you like to me to go get him?”

He shakes his head, “Persephone is home. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eurydice and Orpheus share the same look of faint disapproval, but neither of the say anything, for which he is grateful.

He lies in the soft grass of the garden Persephone made, and lets Orpheus’s playing lull him to sleep.

Later, he’s woken by strong arms picking him up and holding him against a familiar chest. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know who’s holding him. “I can go,” he yawns, his actions at odds with his words as he pulls himself even closer the warmth coming off the king of the underworld.

“No,” Hades says. “Stay.”

Ares lets out a content sigh as Hades presses his lips to his forehead, and he’s not great about touch, about people laying their hands on him and getting in his space. But Hades has always felt safe, felt like home.

He stays.

~

The gods are dead.

Long live the gods.


gods and monster series, part xiv

read more of the gods and monsters series here

You keep messaging someone you really like, and ask to see their face. They send a picture of you. It’s from when you were younger. You never gave them access to your photos, and have never posted about this image.

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young black sails  — jack rackham

And calico disappears. And my father’s business, that he inherited from his father, and his father’s father, begins to wither and die. And my father suffers the compound shame of financial failure seen through the eyes of his son, and descended into drink. I’d sit beside him as a boy at the Sunday service as he shouted at the pastor, at the altar - at anyone who would listen, really - at the injustice of it all. […] So, I set to work, determined to rebuild what had been taken away. I was thirteen years old, but I was determined. Until a man arrived at my door, claiming to hold debts belonging to my father, debts accumulated as my father drank, debts he claimed that now belonged to me, debts I could not possibly hope to repay. Debts over which this man would have seen me imprisoned. Imprisoned in a place where the debts would have been discharged only through hard labour, hard labour and no wages. Working at - wait for it - the production of textiles.

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PAGE 10

I should really rename this comic “Keith’s suffering” because I just feel like I’ve been taunting him for the past few pages.

Also are you guys ready for it to get…. REALLY GLITTERY? BECAUSE I DON’T THINK YOU ARE. 

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Previous Page

First Page

Some thoughts on the Shallura Plot thread in this comic under the cut.

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brighter than fire (m)

Summary: There’s quite possibly nothing you hate more than Min Yoongi and his stupid, stupid face—and the stupid, stupid way he makes you feel.
Pairing: Yoongi | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut, Camp Counselor AU
Word Count: 11,371
Author’s Note: What better way to celebrate the summer than to mix Min Yoongi and camp counseling? Also, this is my first time getting to write really sarcastic Yoongi and I was really living. And to @minsvga – hEY thanks for encouraging sarcastic Yoongi in the first place, and lots of sinning; this is all your fault. 

.

As soon as you step off the bus at the top of the mountain, surrounded by trees and forest and the fresh smell of pine, miles and miles away from your family and the troubles of everyday life—there is without a doubt in your mind that you’re reached your home. The sun is bright, hitting your eyes as soon as you depart from the vehicle, which only serves as a benchmark for what the next few weeks would consist of. And for the most part, you cannot wait to bask in the freedom and the responsibility and the adventure of resuming your counselor position at Camp Bulletproof for the fourth year in a row.

There’s an endearing aspect of being a regular at Camp Bulletproof, one that comes with smiles and waves exchanged with counselors who share the same experience as you, ones you’ve known for many years and have a friendship that can transcend the fact that you all didn’t see each other a lot more than you actually saw each other but that doesn’t stop any of you from spending hours on end supplying backstories for stories or sharing tales from school. It’s a gesture that is done very willingly given that some of these people have plagued your childhood and some of your most fond memories. For the most part, you can’t wait until after hours so the counselors could all have some time to catch up.

For the most part.

Keep reading

2

That first night… in the Shrieking Shack.



I never get tired of reading in fics Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs first time in the Shrieking Shack with Remus. If they end up making a Marauders film, they better include that part.

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How the fuck is she so pretty???

pride month moodboards

↪ canon lgbt characters [trini kwan]

Break a Little - Part One

Summary: You’re an Alpha Female, and that means your entire life you’ve been an outcast, an abomination. It’s been so long you don’t remember what it is like not to feel raw, angry and hurt. You’re aggressive, a little wild, and don’t play well with others. So when your only friend’s brother Dean calls and says Sam is missing, you are hesitant to work with him. After all, you have always been alone.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Characters: Alpha!Reader, Beta!Sam, ??!Dean

Pairings: Alpha!Reader x ??!Dean

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: language, fighting, self hate, a/b/o dynamics, no smut yet but there will be some eventually ;)

A/N: This is my first A/B/O fic and I would like it to be a small series. 

You sit at the bar, consumed in your own little world. The whiskey you sip on is just fuel, fuel for how much you hate everything, hate what you are, who you are, how you hate the world around you.

It’s after a hunt, and just like every single damn time the violence has you on edge, running on adrenaline and nothing can fix it, nothing ever will. But the hunts themselves are good for you, they help focus that rage that is always there.

“Hey gorgeous,” some asshole sits beside you, and you wind him first, a fucking alpha.

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Knights of the Round Table Official Tier List

God Tier:

  • Sir Ywain the Bastard: BFFs with a lion who may or may not have been able to talk. Very strong and ambitious without giving in to greed. Lost his sanity for a bit but sheer willpower brought it back, and mopped 0 seconds about it, went straight back to decimating ass in the name of justice and to save many numerous dames (honestly, if there was a dame in danger, this guy and his lion pal popped up immediately). Batman if his motif was the lion and also if Albert was a lion. Notable Feat: One of his adventures had him disenchant a cursed maiden who had been turned into a dragon by kissing her three times. That’s right, folks, Sir Ywain smooched dragon girls for reals and you’ll never achieve the heights of his glory.
  • Sir Percival the Grail Knight: Exceedingly powerful yet never once lorded his immense strength over anyone, and in fact, his impossibly humble nature actually had him act in ways to make others around him seem cooler, even though he was extremely capable. Clad in only a silk dress, Percival once threw a fully armored and armed knight over a castle wall, and this other time, clad in only shitty tin “armor” he made from pots, dddddestroyed an Evil Knight Of Certain Renown and stole his armor. The armor of pots happened because a merchant pulled a fast one over him (he traded his extremely expensive silk and gold-weave dress for a cart of junk), and then defended the man that fucked him over when the town was about to lynch him. Notable Feat: Defeated Sir Lancelot of the Lake (yes, that Lancelot) in fair and single combat, and kept disarming him instead of injuring him. Even then, he kept claiming “oh no, he won, I was just lucky, I am pretty sure he had the advantage” so as to not sully the hero’s name. Oh, yeah, and, you know, he fucking achieved the Holy Grail.
  • Sir Gawain: Dayman, Fighter of the Nightman, Champion of the Sun, You Are A Master of Karate, And Friendship For Everyone. Good man, very strong, was kind of a dumbass, but that adds to the charm. He’s the kind muscleman that spots for your scrawny ass in the gym your first time and tells you how to do the exercises properly. Most likely to become a good friend in the long term. Notable Feat: His whole fucking life, man. The code of chivalry didn’t actually apply to peasantry, as in, knights were not required to protect peasants at all, yet Gawain was known as the Defender of the Poor. What a fucking stud. 

Galahad Tier:

  • Sir Galahad of Twilight: Galahad gets his own tier because he’s like some sort of Mary Sue that came outta nowhere in late transcriptions of Arthurian Mythos and sort of just was the best at everything ever in any context, which is funny because his father, Sir Lancelot, was more or less the same but actually likable (as in, Lancelot was not part of the original Old Welsh scriptures, and was basically really cool but also had a lot of flaws to his badassery, whereas Galahad is kinda just perfect). However, his divine protection does not allow me to put him at the bottom, for forces that dwarf my comprehension keep moving him up here. Notable Feat: Being a self-insert OC that got accepted in the canon.

Chivalrous Tier:

  • Sir Lancelot of the Lake: Goku, but lecherous. Notable Feat: Goku, but lecherous.
  • Sir Bedivere of the Perfect Sinews: The world’s first slot machine. Went on a ridiculous numbers of adventures in the early game, some of them even with Arthur’s dog, Cavall, and despite having only one arm, m dude was basically a Dynasty Warriors character. Openly practiced witchcraft, which almost got him hanged a couple of times, if it hadn’t been for Arthur’s interference and testimonies to his legitimately good character. Notable Feat: With Cavall the Dog, went on an adventure to kill an Evil Magical Boar and steal its comb, before hitting the boar so hard it fell right into the ocean and drowned, because Bedivere Don’t Fuck Around.
  • Sir Bors the Younger: Never on schedule, but always on time. Sir Bors wasn’t a superhuman like some of his peers, but his strong point was his virtue and how hard he adhered to the Code of Chivalry, which is more that can be said for a lot of knights, even in higher tiers. A hot young maiden once told him “FUCK WITH ME OR I WILL KILL MYSELF” but he refuse because he wouldn’t break his Vow of Celibacy. The girl, of course, turned out to be a DEMON that tried to trick him. Then, another time, his brother, Sir Lionel, was getting whipped by a notched whip by an assailant while a young girl was being kidnapped by a rogue knight. Notable Feat: He chose to save the young girl over his brother. His brother was Kinda Pissed, so he came back to murder Bors for abandoning him, and Bors didn’t defend himself, saying “yeah I understand why you are angry, honestly”. God himself saves Bors by striking down Lionel with a pillar of fire. Bors then went to be one of the three knights to achieve the Holy Grail (the other two being Percival and Galahad)
  • Sir Tristan (Or “Tristram” for you historians): Not only was Mister Sadman a capable fighter, Tristan also played instruments and sang, and he was said have a very beautiful voice. The beauty behind Tristan is that he went through multiple trials and tribulations that tested his worth as a person and as a Knight truly (as in, someone who pursues the path of chivalry) rather than his martial might. Notable Feat: Accidentally consumes a love potion with Iseult, who was on her way to marry someone, and he still held onto his reigns as a knight without betraying either chivalry or her love too much.

Manure Tier:

  • King Arthur: cuck. Notable Feat: His knights all went on way more exciting adventures than him and his peak is when he gets shanked by his illegitimate son and shanks him back and then spends like fourteen hours bitching at Bedivere for him to go drop his sword in a lake.

“Alright kiddo,” Percy started, adjusting his sister’s weight in his free arm as he pulled riptide from his pocket. His eyes never leaving the ominous moving shadows that started to form around them. “I need you to hang on tight. We’re going to be ok, but if you promise not to tell Mom or Annabeth whats about to happen, I’ll buy you the best ice cream in all of New Rome.”

“Strawberry,” the three year old responded immediately, eyes darting around warily. “And I want triple scoop, like the, like the kind that you get.”

“Deal.”

I had a dream the other night, and it involved Percy babysitting his sister and on their walk to central park, some baddies pop out of no where. Percy could take them out, no problem. But after a certain talk and a promise that he wouldn’t get his sister involved in any dangerous demigod shenanigans, Percy is more worried about the kid tattling on him to both his mom and his girlfriend. And if being an older sister has taught me anything, bribing with sweets works 9000% of the time.

I think my role is to shut up and listen. A lot of white people should shut up and listen. They really don’t know what the African-American experience truly is. When you have people getting shot in their cars for no reason and being put in fucking jail cells and it’s for profit, we have a serious problem, and the first thing you need to do is get educated. Don’t try to do this, like, ‘Blue lives matter.’ Don’t try to do the 'All lives matter.’ Just shut up and listen to the experience. And then move forward after that.
—  Billie Joe Armstrong, Rolling Stone Magazine