nineteen thirties

I love how Jack’s like “I must teach you the ways of Canada” in this extra, but what I love more is Bitty’s hair

I know that hair. That’s my hair. Normally his hair looks much more controlled than mine ever does but I know that hat thing. I recognised it instantly. So here’s some info about Bitty in beanies based on my experience

  1. Those little sticky-out bits? They’re the best part about wearing hats because you can put them on when your hair’s a mess and all that’s left are these cute lil curls sticking in various directions and implying that the hair underneath is all just nice pale-face-and-red-lipstick vintage curls instead of a Literal Disaster
  2. BUT
  3. Going inside is to be avoided at all costs. You have to take your hat off when you go inside. So at this stage I’d like to introduce you to Nineteen Thirties Hat Hair. The cute curls sticking out? Those are the only parts that won’t be flat against his head. He’ll look like an idiot. Jack will find it hilarious
  4. Now, in theory the fix for hat hair is to ruffle your hair a bit, and Bitty’s hair (unlike mine) might be able to put up with such treatment. But if there’s one universal rule about curls its that you do not touch them. You can’t make curls neater. You shower in the morning, put whatever product you use in, and then hope it stays nice for the rest of the day because every touch, light breeze, sudden movement will only speed the transition from curly to fluffy. The shorter your hair, the more this is true
  5. And the entire point of this post is for you to consider the two possible outcomes for a truly curly-haired Bitty wearing a hat:

The 1930s hat hair:

Very flat, then suddenly wild. A lot less pretty in real life.

Or, the mad scientist look:

And now I desperately want to see Bitty with either of these hairstyles


Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, fluff (omg I wrote fluff for once???)

Word Count: 1,311 words of pure fluff

Seven days, nineteen hours, thirty four seconds. That’s when you’ll meet them.

Your soulmate.

Seven days, nineteen hours, twenty eight seconds of pure terror and hell, but happiness and excitement. Your eyes kept on flickering over to the bright red numbers over your bed that had appeared on the night of your thirteenth birthday party. Teenage girls who didn’t know much about the whole ordeal of a soulmate and random numbers appearing on your bedroom wall means there was a lot of screaming. Most of it from your friends who were more excited about the fact in nine years, twenty three hours and fifty five minutes is when you’ll be meeting your beloved one.

It seemed surreal. The years had gone so quickly, in a blink of the eye as you could say. The feeling in the pit of your stomach was strange, but the feeling of relief, the feeling of excitement never left as you grew up.

It never occurred to you that in fact the day was only a week away. Nine years had passed so quick. Maybe too quick. Why were you so nervous? It’s just your soulmate…just the person who you’re fated too since the moment you were born, nothing major.

“Hobi, will you stop pacing? I’m going to become cross eyed at this rate.”

Sorry Chim, but- it’s six days away. Six!”

“You’re going to be fine! The person you’re going to meet is supposed to love you and care for you Hobi. You don’t need to be this tense,” Jimin tried to comfort his friend. Hoseok had been a nervous wreck for a month, the entire situation scaring him but exciting him also.

“D-Do I get a present for them?” Hoseok began.


“What do I even get them? I don’t know if it’s a male or a female!”

“Hobi, calm do-”

“What if…what if I get them something, an-and they don’t like it!? What if- what if they don’t like me Jimin?”

“Oh my god, you drama queen! You’re fated to them! Hoseok, they’re going to love you, I know it. They’re your soulmate, of course they’ll love you.” Jimin avoided the mention of glitches, he didn’t need to panic him out even more, but there was no way a ray of sunshine like Hoseok would get or even be a glitch. Fate wouldn’t be that mean…

“Look, if it helps you feel any better, Yoongs and I are total opposites yeah? We still get along, fate made it that way. Your soulmate, doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl, I know they’ll be the one for you. I can feel it Hobi. You’re so loveable, so happy, like the sun on Earth, if they don’t love you there is seriously something wrong with them.”

“Thanks Chim, you’re the best,” Hoseok sighed and hugged the shorter one. Jimin’s words comforted him a bit, but the worry was still there. He just wanted those six days to pass quickly so he could meet you, whoever you were.

The day was finally here. The fact that you were going to meet your soulmate hadn’t sunk in at all. How did the week go so fast? How did the years go so quick? How and where the hell were you going to see them…

You sat up in bed and looked over at your clock. 4:41 AM. Damn, it was way too early to be awake right now, but you weren’t able to go back to sleep. Looking up at the red numbers above your bed sent you into more of a panic and nervous wreck than you already were.

One hour and seventeen minutes.

That’s when you’ll be meeting them. Your soulmate.

Hoseok was probably more of a mess than you (but you didn’t know that). He resulted to pacing again. His eyes hurt but that’s only because he stayed awake most of the night, the fact he was going to meet the one person he was fated to had made butterflies grow in his stomach. Hoseok glanced up at the red numbers.

The countdown was on and it made his stomach churn, but a smile appeared on his face. The day he was waiting for since he was twelve, was finally here and nothing could take that away from him. Nothing was able to make this day a total disaster for him because he was going to meet you. Finally, after all these years, he’s going to meet the one person who will keep him happy, stand by his side no matter what. He was going to meet someone who was going to love him unconditionally.

Coffee. That’s what you really needed. Your eyes were threatening to close and you were too lazy to make yourself some warm breakfast this early in the morning. You washed up, grabbed your purse and your phone, putting on a jacket because it was a little chilly, and you headed out to the nearest coffee shop.

You took your time, taking a small stroll through the park as the sun came up calmed you down just that little bit. You smiled, everything looked so beautiful as the pinkish orange sunlight hit the grass, the flowers, the trees, illuminating everything so it had a tinge. You smiled. Even though the cold wind was nipping at your nose and your ears, the rays of the sun and the thought of meeting the one kept you warm.

You decided to head to the coffee shop that you usually attend before work or when you’re too lazy to make breakfast, much like today.

You ordered yourself a hot chocolate because of the cold weather. When it was ready, you took the cup into your hand, instant warmth flooding throughout your body. A notification from your phone made you turn it on as you started heading towards the door to leave.

Hoseok walked into the small coffee shop, it looked like it was the only thing open that early in the morning, it looked comfy, somewhere he could clear his thoughts before he met his soulmate. What Hoseok didn’t expect was to have spewing hot chocolate spilt on his jacket and shirt the second he walked in.

“O-Oh my gosh! I-I’m so sor-” your words caught up in your throat when you looked up to see who you had accidentally bumped into. Shock overtakes both your body and Hoseok’s.

“I-It’s you…” Hoseok whispered. His eyes were wide, he had never seen anyone as beautiful as you before in his life. The overwhelming feeling of finally seeing you, after waiting all these years made him feel all giddy inside.

You and Hoseok both felt something pressing against your wrists lightly, causing you to look down and observe what was going on. His name was being carved onto your delicate skin in black writing, almost like calligraphy. The date, the time, and his name were all there.

“Jung Hoseok,” you whispered. Hoseok’s insides felt warm the moment his name left your lips. He couldn’t help but smile at it. Smile at you.

“You-” your eyes drifted up to take a better look at his face, he was beautiful, handsome, absolutely perfect. “Just- wow. Th-This feels, unreal…”

“C-Can I, can I touch you?” Hoseok asks gently, the burning of the hot chocolate having left his mind at this point All he could see was you. All he wanted to hold, to cuddle, to kiss, to love, was you.


Not even a second passed before Hoseok’s hands were cupping your cheek, but they were cold which made you flinch just a little. “Cold,” you pouted.

That pout made Hoseok grin wider if possible. He was going to cherish you until he died, he wouldn’t let you go, he’d love you. He was going to give you his all, he promised himself that.

a/n: ahh hapPY HOSEOK DAY!! this sunshine boy deserves everything istg omg. i hope he’s having an amazing day and i hope he enjoys the concert that is on tonight!

@notbravebychoicemakes the worst decisions ever???


He’s fifteen and it’s the middle of the night in a thunderstorm and he’s staring at Sherry Squires’ face as they both hold their breath and wait for another boom so the sound will cover up when he clambers through her window. He’s fifteen and Sherry’s room smells like flowers and nail polish and her parents’ dog won’t stop howling. He’s fifteen and Sherry is telling him someday we’re gonna get out of here. He’s sixteen and Sherry stops sitting by him in school. He’s seventeen and Sherry has a boyfriend and it isn’t him. He’s eighteen and Sherry’s bloody hair is in his hands and he can feel pieces moving where they shouldn’t when he tries to lift her head. He’s nineteen. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Sherry isn’t. Sherry never will be.

He’s coming up on fifty and his life is just one long cycle of girl after girl after girl. Hair in his hands. Blood in the air. Blunt force trauma to the skull. To answer your question, Becky, no, he never said that to Sherry. Sherry said it to him.

“You keep her fuckin’ name outta yer mouth, little girl.” Southern and sour and stinging just like he learned it, just like when Sherry was still alive, just like WHAT’D YOU SAY T’ ME, BOY? NOTHIN’, GRANNY, NOTHIN’! “You don’t know shit about her.”


Master thief from nineteen short stories and thirty-six novels by French author Maurice Leblanc.

Lupin first got his start when he stole jewelry from his mother’s employers to pay for her ailing health and soon discovered he had a talent for thievery. 

He was known for his mastery of disguise, expert psychoanalysis and love of women. On several occasions, he fought against the detective Sherlock Holmes. He also had two children, neither of which knew he existed at all.

He was famously depicted wearing a top hat, cloak and a monocle.

preCURSEr || Jenna and Alaric

Twenty-eight hours, nineteen minutes, thirty-six… thirty-five

Those were the seconds ticking away until Alaric married the love of his life. His lips pulled into a thin smile as he pictured her face, walking down the isle in her white dress, agreeing to marry him despite all the crazy shit that had happened in their lives. Elena, Bonnie and Caroline stood to the side, holding their bouquets, and when she arrived, Alaric would take her by the hand, kiss her fingers, and then move to life her veil.

Alaric Saltzman woke with a jerk from his place on the couch. His stomach twisted when he noticed both Matt and Tyler staring at him, concealing their laughter at him almost falling off the couch. He hadn’t said anything, though, had he? He hadn’t said HER name? Nobody would think twice if he whispered Jo’s name in his sleep, especially not the day before their wedding. But to whisper…

He finished rolling off the couch, knowing it was time for him to start getting ready for the night’s dinner. It wasn’t supposed to be anything big. Just a couple of the guys going to the Grille for a couple drinks. Something to celebrate. Tonight wasn’t SUPPOSED to be anything.

Twelve shots of bourbon and several beers later, Alaric was stumbling out of the Grille and making his way down the street. They’d taken his keys long ago, and several people offered to drive him home, but Ric needed some time alone. His accelerated metabolism would burn through the alcohol within a few hours and by morning he’d be ready to get married.

By morning he would be ready.

Alaric weaved his way down one sidewalk after another until he found himself staring up at a house he hadn’t lived in in who knew how long. YEARS. Many years. His brain was a little too fuzzy to think of an adequate reason why this might be a bad idea. It was just saying goodbye, right? Letting go. Moving on from what could have been.

Sixteen hours, thirty-two minutes, forty-five… forty-four…

Ric knocked firmly on Jenna’s door.


Peter Schjeldahl reviews a new exhibit featuring the radical art of the nineteen-thirties:

Early sections of the show dramatize a gravitational force field of revolutionary agitation and sentiment. Later ones evince broken ranks and faltering hopes.

Above: Bernarda Bryson Shahn’s “The Lovestonite” plays on a split in the Communist Party. Courtesy Belverd and Marian Needles Collection

When it happens at a party and
you are supposed to smile and
you have a beer in each hand,
the inside of your conversation
partner’s mouth will grow until
you are trapped inside of it.
You will shrink until you are
shaking inside of it.

You will not be able to open
your eyes. You will not be able
to convince yourself that you
are still alive.

There is something without a
name crawling under your skirt,
and it bites; your teeth will tell
you to run. Or, that is to say,
the canopy will come down even
if you have spent your fifteen
years or nineteen years or thirty
seven years hammering it into
the earth. That is to say, the
earth will never be dry. That is
to say, the sky is always trying
to flood us.

The water is always trying to
become us.

You will be denied the space
in your body when the air in
the room goes without
warning you. It will all be
empty and something will fill
your ears.

Here, the sky opens up:
at a house party on a Saturday
night. In the middle of the woods.
On the back of the one who 
carries it. In the mouth of the
corpse. At the bottom of your

You are not hearing
what you think you are

You have not become
what the thing around
your ankles scratches
into your skin.

—  “on nights when you fear you have become the burden, and the music does not settle right.” by Emma Bleker