no no no stop guise what are you doing

Something horrible is happening on youtube

I’m going to preface this post with a content warning. This post is about child abuse. The video I’m going to link includes actually video footage of child abuse. It is one of the most upsetting videos I have ever watched. My post includes in depth descriptions of child abuse. 

This morning I watched a Youtube video discussing and highlighting what is happening on another Youtube channel. If you have the stomach for it, I’d suggest watching the video because Phillip DeFranco does a much better job of summarizing the situation than I can. 

For those of you who can’t watch, I’ll give you a very brief rundown. 

The Youtube channel DaddyOfFive is a combination family vlog and prank channel. In a recent video, the parents pull a prank where they pour invisible ink on one of the kid’s floors and then make him think that they believe he poured ink all over the floor. They scream and swear at this little boy, shouting things like “What the fuck did you do?” while the boy cries and cowers, looking genuinely terrified. Even the best child actors could not pull off looking as genuinely devastated as this child does. 

As DeFranco highlights in his video, although all the children are pranked, it seems that this one child (Cody) takes the brunt of the cruelty. In many videos he is seen being hit, kicked, pushed, and pinned down by his older siblings. In one video his father pushes him face first into a book case. In one video Cody begs his family to stop, saying that he’s tired of this. In another video his parents scream at him and tell him he’s the only one in the family who can’t “take a joke”. 

In response to some of the flak they have been getting, the parents uploaded a video about “Blocking All The Haters”. They goad the children into saying on camera that they aren’t being abused. Now keep in mind, the kids have been told that all the “Cool stuff” they have been getting is because of the Youtube channel. They know that if the pranks stop, the cool stuff goes away. Most of the children chime in that they are not being abused. Cody hardly says anything. The oldest boy says, “At least you aren’t beating us”. 

What is happening to Cody is child abuse. It is emotional, psychological and physical abuse. It is torture. And the worst part of it all is that it is monetized. The parents are being paid by advertisers to abuse this child under the guise of “It’s just a prank, bro”. 

So what can we do?

First of all, we can report the videos on DaddyOfFive’s channel for containing depictions of child abuse. If you decide to help by doing this, please be sure to flag the specific instances of abuse such as Cody being pushed or the parents screaming vulgarities at the children. 

Second of all, we can let the companies advertising on this channel know that we won’t be buying anything from a company that sponsors videos of child abuse. 

Finally, if anyone knows this family in person, they can make a report to CPS. Now the family is claiming that they’ve already been investigated and “cleared” by CPS, but that’s not how this works. Repeated reports mean repeated investigations. You do not give up and look the other way when a child is being abused just because CPS failed to act the first time. When my neighbors were abusing their children, I had to call CPS every week for over a month before something was done. Don’t give up.

The Question.

Title: “The Question”
Fandom:
The 100
Pairing:
Kabby
Genre: Angst/Smut
Words: 5788 
AO3: HERE!

(A/N: Here it is, y’all! My take on Kane and Abby’s first time together; alternately: “Needs More Feels”. Many, many hugs to you guys for cheering me on so wonderfully, I seriously would not have finished without you. Extra love to @fandammit for keeping my love affair with run-ons in check and also being a spectacular cheerleeder; alongside @aelliots who dealt, as she always does, with my many “I swear to god this word exists!” moments. Hope it was worth the wait! ♥♥♥)

— 

She almost lets herself walk away.

After sending her daughter into the hazy distance of a seemingly impossible future, she’s found herself fallen into orbit around him; the chaos of questions about their situation that are waiting to be answered suddenly evaporating in lieu of just one. But unlike the others - will Roan survive? How might their bodies endure the radiation? - she doesn’t have the words for this one, only knows that his name fits into the inquiry somehow. So, she stays by his side, watching, waiting, puzzling together how to ask the question that stirs in her bones but won’t yet dare speak itself into existence.

She follows him to his quarters - that is, what can only be called his for the evening, as Indra has graciously offered up her room in the Trikru embassy to the Skaikru Ambassador until the tower elevator is repaired and a proper suite arranged. She finds, then, that the question was decidedly not whether she would be unwelcome there. She waits for any of her steps alongside him to feel intrusive as they make their way up the stairs, down the narrow, dim hallway, and ultimately into the rustic intimacy of a room built for little more than sleeping and strategizing.

They don’t.

Indra has never taken the time to decorate its greying wooden walls. The small desk under the boarded-up window is completely bare, save for a single lantern which Marcus immediately works at lighting.  The bed itself is simple wrought iron, and nearly buried beneath the only extravagance the warrior has allowed herself: a veritable mountain of thick furs layered as blankets.

It strikes her suddenly that Indra made no inquiry into where she would be sleeping. Perhaps she’d assumed that she’d join Octavia in the common quarters on the first floor. It makes sense. Right now, however, following the busy chaos of restoring order in a broken and angry city where everyone is a possible enemy, she allows herself the indulgence of a closed door, a darkened room, and him.

Her orbit begins to take literal shape as she takes a seat at the desk, him at the edge of the bed. They’re quiet for a moment, and it takes him by surprise when she suddenly laughs darkly that, right this second, it marks the first time in too long that there was nothing that direly needed them to take action.

There’s a moment, then, where she feels the question almost come into clarity, holding each other’s gaze in a way that makes her wonder if he feels the question, too. She can see it, fleeting and timid, in his deep brown eyes as they appear to search every line in her expression for an answer. Her skin alights with warmth, and the words begin to take shape–

He stands, tries to peer beyond her through the openings in the window, says he’s supposed to meet the other ambassadors at a courtyard on the edge of the city first thing tomorrow. He wonders if he can see it from here. She swallows back what had begun to form, and instead - asks him if he’s nervous.

“It’s historic,” he explains, still searching out the window. “The first meeting of the thirteen clans.”

“Is that a yes?”

He smiles down at her.

“It’s not a no.”

He touches her, then. It’s casual - she’s not sure he even realizes he’s done it - but with a graze of his fingertips, he brushes her bangs behind her ear. She feels her face flush.

“Are you?”

She huffs a laugh.

“I might be.”

From that point forward, she tells herself she’s content to let the orbit dictate her movement as they spend hours of the evening dancing around each other: her cross-legged on the bed while he paces the floor and outwardly takes stock of what Skaikru has to offer in the Coalition; him leaning against the desk, patiently listening while she gesticulates wildly in front of him about the differences between theirs and the Grounders’ ideas of what constitutes an antiseptic. It’s a familiar choreography, and she feels a deep relief at being able to so easily settle into it after everything. More than satisfied, however, she tells herself that she should be grateful that this vibrant, comfortably challenging discourse between them is one constant she hasn’t yet lost.

But the question remains.

It bubbles forth when she reaches for his arm, allowing herself to give it a consoling squeeze as he slips into self-doubt. It spikes, almost violently, to the front of her mind when he takes that hand and kisses it before sighing and returning to his frantic pacing.

The feel of his lips against her fingers gives her two of the words: “can we?

She’s heard these words in her mind before.

Keep reading

Little Boyf Riends: The Long Walk

The members of Jeremy’s drama club can barely take care of themselves let alone children. One of the SQUIP’s main objectives was protective his host and that meant not leaving him alone with those hormonal driven idiots. He was now guiding the child down the sidewalk to his house under the guise of his mother.
“Mommy, why can’t I touch you?”
“Because mommy is somewhere else right now, I’m just a hologram.”
“Oh, like Synergy from Jem?” Looking up the reference the SQUIP felt some disdain towards the comparison.
“Yes, like Synergy.”
“Cool! But why didn’t we bring Michelle with us?”
‘Michael is not my objective.’
“Because her parents were already there.”
“Oh.” There was a silence until they reached a no walk light that had started flashing but instead of stopping Jeremy kept walking.
“Jeremy, what are you doing? Stop!” The boy kept on walking as the SQUIP noticed a speeding car coming in forcing the SQUIP to shock the boy hard enough to launch him just out of the car’s path onto the sidewalk.
“Jeremy, what were you thinking you could have been killed. How many times​ have you been told you can’t just walk without looking? Do you wanna get hurt?” The SQUIP was about to go further in his rant when he saw the little boy’s eyes began to tear up.
‘Fuck.’
“I…I’m sorry…” Jeremy broke out into sobbing as the SQUIP tried processing what to do.

anonymous asked:

"Is that my shirt?" BurrLaf?

When Lafayette heard that Aaron had fallen ill, the first instinct he had was to make hot chocolate for him. 

Alex had made fun of him for it, saying that people don’t drink hot chocolate when they’re sick. He should bring Aaron tea. Or orange juice. But Lafayette just waved the advice aside, not really trusting Alex when it comes to caring for people or making them feel better. Alex isn’t patient enough for things like that.

Besides, Aaron is Lafayette’s boyfriend, he knows what he likes.

Even before they started dating, Lafayette noticed how Aaron would always eat some kind of chocolate at lunch, whether it was a Hershey bar or some other form. And Lafayette had seen the bag of Hershey kisses in the man’s room whenever he went over under the guise of needing to study.

So he’s pretty sure he knows what he’s doing as he walks over to Aaron’s dorm holding a thermos of freshly made hot chocolate. He just hopes Aaron is awake. He hadn’t technically called to make sure it was okay to stop by. But Aaron is always happy to see him.

“Aaron!” Lafayette calls out as he knocks on the door, making sure to keep the hot chocolate steady. “It’s me, I brought you something! A surprise!” He knocks a few more times when no one answers, leaning in the press his ear against the door. “Are you all right in there?” 

He’s considering going to find an RA when he hears movement on the other side, and then he’s leaning back, a smile already on his face before he even sees Aaron standing there looking tired and slightly confused. 

“Gil?” He croaks out, voice hoarse.

Lafayette immediately wants to swoop down and wrap Aaron up in a hug, but he refrains, remembering that Aaron is not always a big fan of affection, and probably especially so when he is feeling under the weather.

“I have brought you something to make you feel better,” Lafayette says, holding out the thermos. “Hot chocolate!”

Aaron actually lets out a soft moan at that, and he reaches out to take it, fingers curling around the thermos. “Thank you. That’s…very thoughtful.” He sounds surprised, as if Lafayette is not always thinking of him.

“Anything for you!” Lafayette exclaims, meaning every word. He slides in beside Aaron and shuts the door, already making his way over to the bed to sit down, figuring Aaron won’t mind. “Alex did not believe me, that you would like it, but I knew.”

“Well, Alexander will take any opportunity to argue,” Aaron mutters, coughing into his hand before taking a sip from the thermos, humming as he does. “This is good.”

Lafayette beams at him. “I am glad you like it. Are you feeling better now?”

Aaron laughs at that, the sound crackly and rough, but it makes Lafayette’s stomach flutter all the same. Aaron has such a nice laugh. “I wish it worked that fast,” Aaron says, taking another sip. “But it’s helping.” His eyes move to Lafayette briefly before flicking away. “You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.”

“Where else would I go?”

Aaron blinks at him a few times, seeming unable to answer, but eventually he just shrugs and smiles into the thermos, eyes still on Lafayette’s. Then he’s moving over to the mattress, sitting down next to him.

And Lafayette takes the time to inspect Aaron, taking in the bags under his eyes and the slowness to his movements that isn’t usually there. He really is feeling sickly. Lafayette wishes he could take it all away. But then Lafayette’s eyes move down to Aaron’s clothing, and he feels his heart leap.

“Is that my shirt?” He asks, smiling, but Aaron chokes on the hot chocolate, spluttering as he turns to Lafayette. “It looks very good on you!”

“I-it’s not, I mean, I…it’s mine!” Aaron says all of this quickly, and Lafayette watches him in confusion. He picks at the shirt which is hanging off him, the sleeves slipping down to cover his hands. “This is mine,” he says firmly, not looking at Lafayette.

Lafayette stares, taking in the familiar navy blue sweater he has worn multiple times. That is definitely his. “It is yours,” Lafayette repeats slowly, wanting to laugh when Aaron nods frantically. “From when, little Burr? Back when you were six feet tall before you shrunk?”

Aaron opens his mouth but then snaps it back shut before ducking his head, realizing his mistake. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I am not,” Lafayette tells him softly, reaching out to run his hand down Aaron’s back. “As I said, it looks very good on you. I think I like you in my clothes. Perhaps you should wear them all the time.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up at that, and he turns his head to look at Lafayette. “I think I might look a little ridiculous if I wore them all the time.”

Lafayette just shrugs, disagreeing completely. But he humors Aaron and lets him drink the hot chocolate in silence, keeping his hand on Aaron’s back and rubbing small circles against the fabric of the sweater. 

Eventually Aaron finishes, and he licks his lips as he puts the thermos down on his desk, and Lafayette is tempted to lean over and kiss him, to taste the chocolate lingering on his tongue, but then Aaron sneezes, and Lafayette just smiles at him, pressing his lips to his forehead instead.

“Do you have any medicine to take?” He asks, frowning when Aaron shakes his head. “I will go buy you some!” He’s not even standing all the way before Aaron is tugging him back down, looking hesitant for some reason.

“I’m just tired,” he assures Lafayette. “I should sleep. Can you…will you stay?”

Lafayette reaches for Aaron’s hand, squeezing it with both of his. “Of course I will stay. You do not even have to ask!”

Aaron rolls his eyes at that, shifting on the mattress so he’s lying down on his back. “Well how would you know I want you to stay if I don’t ask?” he grumbles, but he smiles when Lafayette moves to lay beside him.

“I just assume that you always want me to stay,” Lafayette says, wrapping his arms around Aaron and moving him so he is pressed against Lafayette’s chest. “Because I always want to stay with you.”

“Cheesy,” Aaron murmurs, but the word gets lost in his yawn, and he scoots closer to Lafayette, eyes already fluttering shut. “Why’re you so nice to me?”

“Because I care for you.”

Aaron only hums at that, but Lafayette peers down to see him smiling, so he chuckles and starts to rub at Aaron’s back again. They are quiet for awhile, just listening to each other breathe, but then Aaron shifts to look up at Lafayette. 

“I’m sorry I stole your shirt.”

“Do not apologize. I told you, I like you in it.”

“I just…” Aaron pauses, brows furrowed, but then he continues. “I wasn’t sure if it was weird. We haven’t…we haven’t been dating that long. And I should have asked, or-”

Lafayette shushes him, trailing a finger over his lips. “Stop worrying so much,” he whispers. “You may wear it any time. Keep it. I will take one of your shirts and wear it so we are even. Then you will see how nice it is.”

Aaron snorts, moving one of his hands to squeeze at Lafayette’s biceps. “I doubt you would fit into one of my shirts.”

“I accept that challenge.”

Aaron laughs, but then the noise is cut off by another cough, and Lafayette holds him tightly until it stops. Then Aaron sighs, pressing his face to Lafayette’s shoulder as he curls against him.

“Thank you, Gil,” he murmurs a few minutes later, his breath tickling Lafayette’s collarbone. 

Lafayette is about to tell him he has nothing to thank him for, but Aaron’s breathing is steady and slow, and Lafayette smiles, angling his face to press another kiss to Aaron’s forehead.

And he stays, more than happy to hold Aaron until he wakes. 

mumfordistheword  asked:

10 Lams, please! (or you can stick it in your Alex in Albany series if you're still doing that)

10-“Teach me how to play?”

Late October 1776

A month ago, Hamilton had drilled his company in this courtyard. Dressed smartly in his artillery uniform and cocked hat, he was certainly unrecognizable from that state now, coatless with his shirt slovenly half-tucked.  He could pass for a drunkard or a vagabond street boy.

It was effective.

Even if the locals in the Manhattan recognized him as the student, soldier and writer he’d been before the British invasion, he’d darkened his hair with ash before leaving the inn.  Unrecognizable.  Most of the locals left in the city were firmly Loyalist anyway- the sort of people that had stopped associating with Hamilton after his first flurry of pamphlets.

Most of the locals…

Keep reading

Kono walks into the office, the scent of something warm and fruity wafting behind her and immediately getting his attention. He breathes in the enticing aroma and follows her into the break room, spotting the source of the smell in her hands.

“Hey boss, want one?” she asks when she spots him, opening up the box and holding it out to him. He peers into the box to see scones neatly lined up with a little container of jelly beside them, “They’re wild berry scones.”

He takes one from the box and bites into it, letting out an indecent sounding moan when the flavors hit his tongue. Kono laughs at him when he takes another bite, savoring the naturally sweet flavors.

“Where did you get these?” he asks around a mouthful and Kono hands him a second scone.

“They’re from my friend Danny. He owns a bakery downtown. I give his daughter surfing lessons and he likes to pay me in pastries,” she explains, taking a bite of her own confection.

“I think I’m in love with him,” he tells her, popping the last of the scone into his mouth and already spreading jelly on his second one.


“I need to make a quick stop, do you mind?” Kono asks as they’re strapping their surfboards to the rack on her car. Since it’s their first full weekend off in months, the three of them decided to go surfing together to blow off steam. Chin had begged off about an hour ago, citing that he was getting too old to stay out on the water so long, but Steve wouldn’t mind hanging out with Kono a little longer before she drops him off at his empty house.

Kono’s quick stop turns out to be dropping off some old rashguards at her friend’s bakery. He follows her into the small shop, taking in the display full of treats, the decorated cakes set just behind the counter and finally the man serving guests at the register.

“Danny, howzit brah?” Kono asks, leaning over the counter to give him a hug, “I brought Grace some of my old rashguards for her to try on.”

“Thanks, you can go put them in the back,” he tells her, motioning to the doorway behind him.

“Oh, this is my boss, Steve,” she tells Danny and then skips behind the counter and out of sight.

“So you’re Steve,” Danny says, getting his attention just as he gives him a complete once over.

“And you’re Danny,” he returns the favor, taking in his compact body, the broad shoulders hidden underneath the chef’s jacket, the intensely blue eyes. Danny smirks when he meets his gaze and he can feel the slightest blush starting at getting caught checking Danny out.

“I’ve heard you like my scones,” Danny teases and he has a moment to panic over just how much Kono told him when she returns from the back room, a muffin in each hand.

“Ready to go?” she asks, handing a muffin over to him and giving Danny a hug goodbye, saying she’ll meet Grace for their lesson tomorrow. Danny tells her goodbye and when they’re halfway out the door he calls out “Bye Steve,” and he can hear the smile in Danny’s voice.


He stops into the bakery a few days later under the guise of buying himself more scones. The bakery’s empty when he walks in but Danny comes out from the back room as soon as he hears the bell above the door chime.

“I was wondering if you were gonna come back,” he says, leaning on the counter and smiling up at him, “What can I do for ya?”

“Uh scones,” he manages to force out, suddenly tongue-tied under Danny’s attention.

“Scones?” Danny asks, his eyebrows raising in question and he nods his confirmation, “I’m all sold out of scones but if you wanna come in the back I was just about to make another batch.” He agrees and follows Danny, trying not to notice how well his jeans fit him.


Somehow, it becomes routine for him to stop into the bakery and watch Danny while he’s working. Sometimes, when she’s there, he and Grace will help decorate some of the simpler treats but mostly the two of them just talk as he watches Danny decorate. Their banter quickly turns to flirtation and now it’s become just as much of an addiction talking to Danny as it is watching the muscles in Danny’s forearms as he uses a piping bag or admiring the way his shirt bunches and pulls around his biceps when he kneads the dough.

“Are you even listening to me?” Danny gets his attention, pointing a chocolate covered finger in his face and distracting him from admiring Danny’s look of concentration as he decorates. His expression turns from exasperated to affectionate when he realizes what Steve was doing and suddenly he can’t take the flirting anymore. He grabs Danny’s hand before he can move it, hearing his gasp when he closes his mouth around the still pointed finger and licks off the chocolate with deliberate, slow swipes of his tongue. When he looks up he sees Danny’s pupils blown wide as he watches his mouth and he runs his tongue across the pad of Danny’s finger once more before he pulls it away.

“God, you’re gonna kill me doing that,” Danny says, breathless, just before he drops his piping bag and Steve barely has time to register Danny moving before he’s on him, kissing him like he’s starving for it. He stands, backing Danny up until they run into the walk-in freezer and he can press Danny against it, sliding his leg in between Danny’s and eliminating any space between them. When Danny opens up to him, he tastes like chocolate and berries, and it’s absolute perfection.

Okay I’ve been wanting to post this a few times over the past few weeks, but stopped myself. But here goes:

My Christian Tumblr fam:

YOU DO NOT OWE ANONS A THING.

One more time in case you didn’t get me:

YOU DO NOT OWE ANONS A THING.

Not a kind response, not a harsh response, not an explanation, nothing.

YOUR BLOG IS YOUR BLOG. What you post on it is your prerogative.

Anons do not get to call you out, give you unsolicited spiritual advice, say you’re complaining too much about your problems, tear you down under the guise of “uplifting” you, etc.

The people who get to convict you in that way are IN YOUR REAL LIFE, and/or the fellow online brothers sisters in Christ who, you know, TALK TO YOU, CARE ABOUT YOU, WON’T HIDE FROM YOU.

I’m sick of seeing this. If they can’t come out from behind those glasses and talk to you off anon, AND if they are not your friends, they DO NOT have the privilege of speaking into your life. Case closed.

I am a very sympathetic, warm, open, compassion person, but don’t you think for one second I’m gonna put any stock into what a cowardly stranger on THE INTERNET is gonna think or say. I mean it. You look far enough back in my blog you may see a negative anon or two, but even then I’ve just posted it with no response. Either that or I’ve deleted it. You know why?

Because no constructive criticism about who I am as a person is going to come from someone who will not make themselves known to you, who sees what I post on a WEBSITE about my thoughts, feelings and emotions as opposed to, you know, the REST of my personhood.

They KNOW they are on anon because they either DON’T know you well enough to criticise you as they are in an OPEN manner, or they do NOT want their words traced back to them. Don’t fall for it, there is no love of Jesus involved there, or at the very best it is a gross expression of it. And I’ll say it again: COWARDLY, and how dare they act like the wonderful name of our Lord is behind them.

I’m sick of seeing my online brothers and sisters stress themselves out over dignifying cowardly strangers’s opinions and analyses of what they post on THE INTERNET (which we all know is such a wooooooonderrrrrrful barometer for one’s relationship with the Lord. ughhhhhhh)

Repeat:

ANONYMOUS STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET ARE NOT SPIRITUAL GUIDANCE

THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING CALLED OUT ON THE INTERNET LIES WITH THOSE THAT HAVE SHOWN THAT THEY CARE ABOUT YOU

YOUR BLOG IS YOUR BLOG

And if we talk and such an anon is really bothering you, HIT ME UP cos I WILL GET BEHIND YOU.

Enough of this BS Internet pandering to you strangers who don’t care. We’re each Jesus’s and you don’t get to talk to us like any part of us of our content is yours to tailor. Keep it coming to my friends, if you will, anons. They gonna catch that “support” from me and hopefully you gonna catch that “delete”!

It’s canon that Scott either unintentionally or intentionally reads Stiles’ chemosignals, right? Stiles’ particular smell must be like an old friend to him by now.

So, um, what about him gradually really getting into Stiles’ scent? (Maybe it starts out as a comfort thing. Maybe it’s actually the opposite, him being attracted to danger. Either way, even faint traces of Stiles have his body reacting strongly.) 

He really likes it when Stiles hasn’t showered for a couple days, which is NOT something he would have said 3 years ago. He borrows Stiles’ plaid button-ups under the guise of being cold. He hangs out on Stiles’ bed while waiting for him to bring food from the Commons, nuzzling into his pillow and his sheets. He can pinpoint the exact last time Stiles made close friends with his hand and rather than be repulsed, he finds himself chubbing up in his jeans.

He doesn’t get it at first, that this is what he’s doing, or what his reactions signify, but when he figures it out he does not stop.

“Dude, are you… sniffing my neck?” Stiles says one day as they’re sitting on Scott’s bed, half-watching netflix on the laptop between them. It’s the first break either of them has had in a week.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Scott replies.

“I’ve been studying for four and a half days straight and I haven’t gone remotely close to water.”

“Yeah,” Scott says. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles says with a wide-eyed blink and a hand placed on Scott’s arm that sets Scott’s blood racing even faster. “This is a new development.”

“One that you’re happy about,” Scott points out, because yep, Stiles’ scent has shifted subtly, and the undertones are overwhelmingly positive – warmer, sweeter.

Yeah, I am,” Stiles agrees. He drags Scott closer again and tips his head up so Scott can scent his clavicle. He practically whines when Scott presses an open-mouthed kiss at his pulse point. 

“I might not ever shower again,” Stiles moans an indeterminate amount of time and kissing later.

Scott wrinkles his nose. “Let’s not be too hasty.”

Crayons - Arya x Gendry

(The soulmate AU where you don’t see color until you meet your soulmate that no one asked for, and yet everyone is getting anyways. I needed to take a break from reading, so I decided to write something. It was going to be depressing, but then I decided against it. So here’s some utter fluff. Also you get to learn what it’s like to work in a kitchen and restaurant, yay.)


“I’m going out for a smoke.” Gendry doesn’t wait for Hot Pie, the nickname of his fellow line cook, to reply before tearing his apron off and slipping out back of the restaurant. It’s not like it’s lunch or dinner rush or anything, just the middle of the day where business is slow enough to keep them bored with just enough customers to keep them from having any fun. Those are the times that drive Gendry a little bit bonkers, especially with Hot Pie jabbering nonstop about whatever crosses his mind.


It’s not much better outside, what with the sun beating down on him, letting him know just how nice it is outside and how shitty it is inside, but it’s still cooler with the wind. The kitchen gets so hot during summer that it’s no wonder no one in the back of the house suffers from heatstroke. Maybe they build up some sort of tolerance. He could probably live in a desert at this point and think it was spring.

Fishing a nearly empty pack of camel blues out of his pocket, Gendry leans against the wall. The bucket that they all sit on is gone, probably taken by one of their managers that think it’ll inspire their staff to not lounge around so much. He doesn’t care. Standing on his feet for twelve hours a day has become no problem to him at this point. With a slightly bent cigarette tucked in between his teeth, he flicks the lighter until the cigarette is lit and then inhales lightly, closing his eyes and finally relaxing.

He didn’t smoke before working in a restaurant. He’s not sure that anyone in a restaurant is a smoker until a few months in, when they realize that the only time they can get a bit of fresh air and take a breather is when they’re inhaling nicotine and chemical-lased tobacco. Non-smoking employees are a bit of an oddity, looked on by the smokers as innocent and strange.

They all talk about quitting – Gendry talks about it twice as much as anyone – but no one ever does. Eight hours into being smoke free and they’re jonesing again, hands near shaking, lips twitching into uncomfortable grins, eyes looking anywhere but at other people smoking. What a joke.

“Smoking kills, you know,” a voice suddenly says to his left.

Gendry startles, the cigarette nearly dropping out of his mouth, but catches it just in time with his fingers. When he looks over, all he sees is a girl. She’s short (then again, everyone is short compared to him), hair cut in a boy’s cut like she took scissors to it herself out of frustration, but it’s her sharp eyes that catch his attention, an eyebrow raised just so, like she’s used to people listening to her.

He takes another hit of it. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

“No, I’m pretty sure it just kills you, stupid.” She eyes him carefully, taking in his outfit, and then jerks a figure towards the building he’s leaning against. “This place any good?”

“Depends on who’s cooking.”

“Well, hopefully not you, seeing as how you’re outside puffing like a train,” she replies, almost primly. It’s not prim though – it’s anything but that – but it’s like she can’t seem to help herself. He tries to look at her a little better without actually staring at her. Even though she’s wearing just jeans and a t-shirt, he can tell they aren’t from any Wal-Mart or anything like that. No, those scruffy clothes are all designer.

Gendry drops the cigarette butt onto the ground and smashes it with his foot. “I’m the best cook we’ve got.” Maybe not exactly the truth, but he’s good at what he does. Chef says that he might get promoted soon. The raise would be nice.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself,” the girl says. He gives her a lazy grin. She rolls her eyes and then walks around the building.

Shaking his head, Gendry turns around to go back inside and freezes immediately when he goes to open the red door. He blinks a few times, even closes his eyes hard for a few seconds, but when he opens them again, the door is red as can be. He doesn’t know how he knows the color is red – deep, vibrant, and violent, with a few white scratches on it – but the back door to the restaurant is red.

It’s the first time Gendry has ever seen color before and it’s then that he knows that he is utterly and completely fucked.

*

Keep reading

  • *The boys cooking*
  • Stan: *texts Wendy the whole time*
  • Kenny: *flirts with everyone and pulls out ingredients for lasagna*
  • Kyle: STOP TOUCHING MY ASS, KENNY! WE'RE MAKING A CAKE WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STAN STOP TEXTING YOUR GIRLFRIEND, THIS IS GROUP BONDING. *turns to Cartman to yell at him, but stops in surprise*
  • Cartman: *Is behaving himself and actually making a cake* Shut the fuck up, yew guise or yew won't get any of my awesome cake~

anonymous asked:

Imagine when the team gets Matt back. Lance: "Dude how do you get away with so many memes when you're friends with Mr. 'stop-it-with-the-memes-u-guise' Shirogane over there??" Matt: *blinks in surprise, suddenly overtaken by uncontrollable ugly laughter* Shiro: "matt you say anything and i'll uppercut you bACK INTO THE GALRA EMPIRE I S2G"

matt: i’m s-sorry, what was that [giggles] mr. navy seal w-with [laughing] over 300 confirmed kills?

shiro: listen i have access to the entire arsenal of voltron and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent

lance, softly: oh my god

Dear Entrepreneurs:  Please Stop Shooting Yourselves in the Foot.

I was going to start this post with a few links to recent events, but frankly there are so many it is dizzying to do so.  So, I am going to presume if you are reading my blog you are at least a little familiar with what is going on at Uber, including today’s resignation of board member David Bonderman.

Sadly, I see this stuff in startups all the time – unprofessional, juvenile actions and communications initiated by the senior leadership or founders and justified under the guise of ‘we like an edgy culture’ or ‘we were just being funny’ or something like that.

To all of you I’d like to suggest something:  Grow up.

Here’s the thing.  All your stakeholders want you to win.  Your investors provided capital (often with limited control) because of a belief in you and what you are trying to do.  Your employees choose to come to work for you every day, over other things they could be doing, presumably because they also believe in that mission.  

And you know what is true about your mission?  It is really, really hard to actually accomplish it.  You are constantly trying to do the impossible, to create products and services that haven’t existed before.  You face ridiculous timelines, incredible competitive pressure, difficult decisions that don’t have consensus, challenges with hiring and retaining your people, and of course the looming pressure of continuing to raise capital to lengthen your runway, all in the service of this mission that you deeply believe in.

With all the challenges you face, why do you need to self-inflict more?

Entrepreneurs I have worked with who have found themselves on the wrong side of these issues usually defend themselves with either the ‘culture’ argument or the ‘its my personality’ argument (and of course those two are deeply intertwined.)  

To that I ask, is it worth risking your mission?  Wouldn’t it be better to understand that these sorts of behaviors do more harm than good?  Can’t you create a great culture without resorting to frat bro humor?  Don’t all these recent events indicate that perhaps these actions are simply not worth the downside?

I’ve written about culture before, but to summarize, culture is about actions and it almost always is created (whether they understand they are doing so or not) by the founders.   If you want my advice, you should build the culture that will best serve your mission – one of integrity, excellence, performance, and delivery of the dream.  Anything that diminishes this is shooting yourself in the foot.

Isn’t what you are doing hard enough already?

Painful Barbara Gordon Headcannon. WARNING: Feels to come

Babs has no complete memory of what happened between after she was shot to waking up in the hospital. She remembers Joker’s voice, Jim being taken, a bright lights. That’s it. (Shock kicking in and all that.) She doesn’t know that the pictures Joker forced Jim to look at ever existed. The only ones who know are Jim, Bruce, and the Joker. After that night, Batman and Jim swore to protect Barbara from the truth, not letting her ever know of what more Joker did to her that night.

In my little world, (and this may possibly become a fic. I dunno) shortly after the announcement of the Commissioner’s daughter engagement to the Prince of Gotham’s oldest son, which makes big headlines, Jim gets an envelope with one of those pictures inside. He burns it, but the next day, another comes. Each day more come. Finally, right before the wedding, he gets one with a note. “If you don’t tell her, Jimbo, I will!” This sends Jim into a panic and he consults Batman on the situation. Batman agrees to try to intercept the possible letter to her, but he warns Jim that he might not be able to stop it. The only way to make sure is to have someone who knows to look for it without being suspicious.
Jim knows what he has to do. In order to protect his daughter, he calls Dick to have lunch under the guise of a normal “you hurt her I’ll kill you” talk. He informs him of the pictures and to look out for them.

But when he gets home, Babs is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at one of the picture blankly. Angry at Bruce, Jim, and especially Joker, she shuts everyone out, including Dick when she finds out that he was ready to hide it from her as well.

I think about things too much, guys.

Anxiety and Retirement

I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about Yuuri’s feelings towards retirement. Last night my TL was filled with worried fans, alongside those excited about the defacto proposal. And seeing that, compiled with the preview for episode 10 have built up quite a bit of emotion in me. So, I’m just going to spill my opinions here. This is just how I view the situation. It’s my thoughts on how it might be handled. It could very well go in a different direction, but I’ve found my thoughts different from some of the others I’ve seen tackling this issue. I thought it a good idea to add in another viewpoint to the mess.

One of the things I really want to address is Yuuri’s anxiety. It’s something very real in the series, brought up by Yuuko early on, and seen affecting Yuuri in many ways. From his failures after the GPF last year due to his inabilities to cope with losing and Vicchan’s death to the explosion in episode 7 and so much more. I feel like the moments his anxiety is obviously explored are very clear to the fandom. I’ve seen a lot of people with anxiety expressing how clear a portrayal of the disorder Yuuri is. As a sufferer myself, I have to agree.

And that brings me to something. I feel like there are parts of Yuuri’s anxiety that are maybe downplayed, or less noticed, that greatly affect some of the recent moments we’ve had. And that is Negative Thinking. Yuuri is a clear case of this. He says it himself.

Yuuri got into the GPX, yes, but it was essentially on a technicality. The only reason he was granted invite over Michele was due to the fact he had a Silver in China. That’s it. And that… that can’t feel good. That is not something to be proud of. That’s a feeling of failure because, really, do I deserve this chance now? You can see it in his desperate search for comfort after the medal ceremony. It’s a funny scene, dead-eye Yuuri running around hugging people, Yurio running away, but it’s also so, so sad to me. Yuuri is looking for something he can’t find. Release from his anxiety.

Release he finds in Victor’s arms. From that first hug before Eros until now, Victor has been the one there to abate Yuuri’s anxiety when it flares up. He’s made it this far and built so much confidence, but that’s the problem with anxiety. You can build and build and build, and then that one things comes in and tears it all down in a moment. The next time you rebuild, you have a pattern, a blue print, and it’s easier, but that doesn’t negate the fact that for those moments you feel hopeless and lost all over again.

And that’s, in my opinion, where Yuuri was as he stood outside on the street in episode 9. His thoughts during the skate, about Victor understanding, about not wanting to make Victor’s work look like it was for naught, all nagging in his mind and being consumed by a cloud of anxiety over the ‘I don’t actually deserve this. I’m not even as good as I was last year, when I got in and wanted to skate on the same ice as Victor, and I have him by me and I’m still this useless.’

So, he feels he’s done and over with, he can’t move up. He just keeps falling. He wants that gold, but either way it’s it. He’s done with because, look at him, he’s failing even now. He’ll let Victor go, because obviously he’s wasted on him, no matter how much Yuuri wants to keep him. It’s selfish.

And Yurio comes and literally kicks him out of it. And tells Yuuri to buck up. Something he’s heard before. He’s heard that he shouldn’t be this upset before. He’s heard don’t retire – from Mooroka, from Minami – and he shakes back to life a little.

But then, then he goes home. And there is Victor. Those arms he was so desperately searching for. Waiting, open, rushing for him. And he flings himself into those arms. And immediately Victor tells Yuuri he was thinking about him, how he can be a better coach to him, what he can do for him. And Yuuri wants that, but didn’t he also just make a choice? To retire and let Victor go? That’s the best course of action, isn’t it? But for a moment, he’s selfish, and please god, at least until I make it official I gave up, stay with me. Take care of me, because you do it in so much more than skating, and I need that. Because once he says he’s done, will Victor go? Back to Russia? Done and gone? He’s just here to coach me through GPF, isn’t he?

But then Victor says those words. Those few words Yuuri so desperately needed to hear. I want to stay with you, forever. I don’t want to leave. Don’t stop, keep going, so I can stay with you. It sounds like a proposal, I hear what you are saying behind the guise of skating, and I get it. I truly do, Yuuri.

And those tears in his eyes. They could be for many reasons, because he was so sure about it all ending and he’s changed his mind, he’d gotten confidence back, or because he’s shook by finally, finally feeling affirmed that Victor is his. He’s not seducing the playboy anymore, he’s caught him, fully, entirely. Or it could be because he’s scared that he’ll say he still wants to stop and maybe Victor’s mind will change. Because that’s what anxiety is. A monster haunting you and stopping you from processing that things can be good and okay.

And in the next episode there will be a talk of some sort. And we see that church and those soft looks and I can only hope, that in those moments, maybe they have both grown enough to admit to wanting to stay by each other, never leaving, without the idea of skating. Because then, either way, they will grow stronger. Yuuri will be able to skate, without the anxiety that if he doesn’t do well enough, this will be it with Victor. That his love, in regards to his love, it is truly about him now, not just the skate. About YUURI, the one on the ice, not the ice itself.

So all this, all these muddled feelings, mixed with the possibility of a second season existing, this makes me think it’s not the end for Yuuri. That he will fight down that monster and keep going. Because as much as he seems okay with winning and ending, I know that fire in his expression when Minami told him to keep going, I know those haunted thoughts that stop me and make me okay with stopping even if I don’t want to, and I see them in Yuuri. I don’t think he truly is okay with ending his career here. Could he and be fine? Yes. But is the desire there, deep down, to keep going and reach further heights and surprise the world and Victor more also burning in him? I certainly think so.

[one-shot] unsolicited

Title: unsolicited

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: sexual references

Genre: kinda crack kinda fluff

Pairing/s: eventually phan

Characters: danisnotonfire, AmazingPhil, crabstickz, Tyler Oakley, Shane Dawson, Connor Franta, Caspar Lee

Summary: The five times boys came onto Dan, and the one time Dan came onto a boy.

A/N: I’m so sorry for my absence! With Phandom Big Bang and university and my role as a student leader and joining the Music Club, I really do not have the time to write as much as I used to :( But I’m back and hopefully I have not lost the swing of things. Here we go~

Keep reading

Bts reaction to you having a Anxiety attack.

~Request~ 

Taehyung: You guys were making your way too his car, you guys had just came out of your work place. You start reflecting on all that happened, you just quite your job. The reality starts to haunt you , you start questioning wether you are going to be able to live well. Your mind starts exploding with questions, tae pats your head ruffly “are you going to get in?”. You get in the car and look out the window, he grabs a hold of your hands and tells you everything is going to be alright. His comforting leads you to uncontrollable tears, you turn to the window and let your bangs hide your face in an attempt to hide your tears. He looks at you but says nothing for a little bit , you preferred that he didn’t. He drives up too your apartment and wraps you in a hug “EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT, OKAY”he says practically yelling in your face, with a unconfident smile. You stop crying for a quick second but then end up crying harder , he leads you too your house and sits beside you on your couch. You put your head on his laps and he starts petting your hair back until you fall asleep. 

 “EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT, OKAY” 

 Jin: Everything seemed to be going wrong today, you woke up and noticed you forgot to send in a final project. You cut your finger while cooking and couldn’t find any of your shit. Your car was being stupid so you had to take a bus too Jins house. A burning feeling echoed through your stomach. “Not, now” you kept on telling yourself. You search through your bag to  get the keys to his house , after 3 minutes of ripping everything apart in this 5 inch deep bag you knock on the door. You started to get antsy and your mind was all over the place, usually you would be able to calm yourself  down a little better but it just was  not happening. Jin opens the door up and gives you a large smile, “I thought you weren’t going to come” he says dragging you inside. You tried to giggle but you just couldn’t. “Why didn’t you just use your keys, you better not have lost it again” Jin says in a joking way. It was like a second until you started to cry, the tears wouldn’t stop.”OMO, what wrong. What happened?” jin says startled. “I lost everything -I-I-I-Im-sor-sor-RY” you say barely pronouncing your words.Jin pushes back some of your hair then pulls you forward into a hug,”You never cry, yet you cry over something so small”  you look down at the ground. 

He nudges your head up “Keep your head up” he says smiling   

 JImin:  You were on the phone with him about an hour ago when you suddenly said you had to leave. Truth is you were about to cry , there was no exact reason to it , nobody did anything to you. It was just that you were thinking to much and caused yourself another anxiety attack. You here door bell ring and go to answer the door in a large hoody to hide your eyes. Jimin storms in your house “Why did you hang up like that!! I was worried that something happened”. You clear your voice “Nothing” you say looking down at the floor trying desperately to calm down. “why is your voice so shaky” he says reaching for your hoodie, you take a couple steps back and he follows. He stops “are you crying? whats wrong?” “its nothing Jimin, really…Im used to it, it happens ” you say tears dropping rapidly, he leans against your table and looks at you. “Does it happen often” his voice gets quitter. You nod your head, he walks towards you and takes off your hoodie and holds your face. “Im always here for you ,so don’t cry alone” he hugs you and kisses your for-head.

 Suga: “You know you don’t have to put on such a tough image” he says to you, you dont look up. He grabs a hold of your hand and rubs his thumb against your index finger. The sound of sneakers on a basketball court fills your ears , Suga leans his head on the top of yours, “talk to me about it” he says. You take a deep breath and let out a sigh, you lean your head back up and wipe the tears off your face . You turn too look at him “I don’t know what it is , he lets out a giggle. “You look really ugly when you cry ..Hopie is worse though” , you start to laugh at the image.


 Jhope:Family drama , that was all that was happening in your life. You were caught staring at the wall too long, “Whats wrong , is it your mom?” J hope says interrupting your view of the dull white wall. You started to get anxious, you start cracking your fingers, you let out a sigh “I’ll get over it soon enough”. He nods his head and looks down at his phone, your thoughts start fighting in your head. You thought about getting up and walking to the washroom but that was too easy , your breath starts getting staggered. The tears rush out and you try not to make a noise. You see Hoseoks head shoot up. 

“Whats wrong, is it that bad??” you shake your head and start to stand up , to go to the washroom. Hoseok rushes to your side and hugs you  his arms wrapped around your head . He leans your head on his shoulder, he does not say anything and just hugs you. After crying for a solid 5 minutes, he starts talking to you. 

“It may be hard , but things have to get better” he says eyes a little wet. 

Jungkook: You were walking down the street when you notice all the people watching you, today was not the day. You couldn’t take any stares and definitely not the criticism , you tug on Jungkooks shirt “Can we go home”. He looks back at you and smiles “Sure”, he holds your hand and leads they way. You still felt the pressure of the stares and it was ruining you , you look down and the tears started to drop. You experienced this so many times ,so you new how to make it less obvious. Before you new it Jungkook pulled your arm whipping you around , so that you were facing him. His hands clenched your hand tighter , “Whats wrong, what happened… We will go home, so don’t cry”. He bent his legs so that you were looking down at him and he was looking up at you. “Y/N, you don’t cry a lot so it must really be bothering you. Im sorry”, you shake your head. “Im sorry, sometimes I just freak out and I don’t know how to stop it” he squeezes your hand and continues walking,faster this time.You guys get to the house and he sits you down across from him, “tell me exactly whats wrong”. He sat there and listened to you, with full attention. 

Rapmonster: You and Namjoon were having a really deep talk, about past events in your guises life. When it came to your turn to speak , you couldn’t contain the tears. The past traumas hit you like a truck and all you could do is cry. “Oh fuck, are you aiight” namjoon says grabbing a hold of your hand. You cry harder and louder ,”I-Im okay”  you barely get out. you hear a loud sigh and feel namjoons head lean on your for-head , “Its okay, its in the past” he says. 

“Sometimes ,it feels like it never stopped” you say 

“but Im here now” he says smiling, you let out a giggle. “But look at the state Im in” you say. 

“Its all my fault” he yells, and starts acting a fool to make you feel better.


~Nelly

I would pay actual real life money to a person who could write a script to stop bots from following you on social media. The porn bots have stopped but I’ve gotten about 15 “health and wellness” bots that I suspect are actually doing the same thing the porn bots are, just under the guise of something innocuous. On twitter, the Russian bots are actually pretty obvious, but there’s no way to stop them from following you and spamming. With effective bot protection measures we may not even be in the disgusting political situation we are now.

But no, social media companies prefer your profile be as open and public as possible for data gathering and advertising. This system, where you have to block a bot rather than preemptively stopping it, makes it easier for bots to do what they need to do, whether that’s link you to a fake, sketchy porn site that wants your credit card information, or allowing Russian bots to spread facist propaganda.

I am a lesbian. I do not care about men. Men have nothing to offer to me. I have trauma involving men. I can’t bring myself to trust more than a handful of men. Men as a whole have absolutely no appeal to me in any way at all.

So maybe stop trying to make myself and other lesbians care about men? I don’t care what guise you try to put it under. Stop. Trying. To. Make. Me. Care. About. Men.

Last photo op story!
Ok so me and my friend Joe (who happens to look a little like Jared) met Jared last year and he was super nice, high fived us, hugged us etc etc. Well this year me and Joe were totally unprepared, lots of people were saying we weren’t allowed to pose etc etc, I actually got changed for the op in the Que. We weren’t even expecting our picture to be taken so soon. We literally got to the front and Joe had this idea where I’d stand in the middle and push the two of them apart whilst they were ‘fighting’ so yeah we’re ready for someone to be like Noooo you can’t, however Jared remembered us from last year! He said hello, Joe explained what we wanted to do and Jared was like Yes! Amazing, got straight into character and got super close to me, I wasn’t exactly prepared to suddenly be feeling Jared’s chest, so the expression on my face is a cross of me 'acting’ like 'omg guise stop fighting’ and 'omg Jared is so firm, don’t react’. After it was taken I was like 'oh my god I’m so sorry for touching your chest,’ (It genuinely wasn’t intentional, I didn’t realise he’d get so damn close), but he just laughed and said its cool we’re friends now and gave me a huge Jared hug. After collecting the picture I was obviously thrilled, it’s fucking amazing! It looks like a stupid sitcom or something which I love!

When I went to go for the auto, I got him to sign a quiz book me and my mum and sister had written and produced, I explained that to him and said I was thinking of maybe selling it with his autograph (and permission) for charity, maybe the AKF campaign and he smiled and just simply said, 'what I’d like you to do, when you get home is, look up some local mental health charities, if you sell it, donate the money to one of them.’ I was like, 'yes that’s an amazing idea thank you,’ he smiled and gave me a high five. So now I’ve got to think of a way of auctioning this book for charity, if anyone has any ideas, let me know! (:

I’m going to make an attempt to answer a lot of accusations that have been flying around fellow Markiplites.

“This is just about that stupid NSFW fanart that wasn’t NSFW! You’re being tag police!!” 

Please read Thekimmeh’s post before jumping to that conclusion, I promise you that is not the focus of this argument.

“You’re just attacking Shuploc!”

Okay first, let’s unpack that statement. Have Kim, Haley, I or any other “popular” blog ever attacked someone for no reason? Why would we single out one blog just to torture them? What reason could any of us have to disapprove of her actions other than what we have stated?

To answer this question: Actually, while Kim’s comment was fiery (and okay, maybe a bit zealous, but months of silence will do that to a person. I know, I watched it happen over months and months.) it was not untrue. Shuploc traces all of her “realistic” work and has been attempting to sell them on various sites, specifically Etsy and Redbubble. Kim cited her sources, she has given proof, and she’s not the only one who’s caught on to Shuploc’s “art style”. Most of the fanartists are aware of this, and many other Markiplites are too. This is a morally wrong action to take as an artist. It shows she has no wish to actually gain any credibility of her own and would rather trace and scam to get notes and attention.

“But she’s been getting hate/death threats!!” 

Really? All I see are people opening their eyes to her tracing her work. If anyone has seen any actual hate being sent her way, feel free to link it. I’d be happy to rescind this statement if any credible source can be given.

“Well what would you want her to do? Stop making art?”

Of course not, I’d never want any artist to stop making art. If this was a dream world, I’d prefer her to apologize for not being upfront with her followers, and add a disclaimer to any tracing she does in the future that it is, in fact, a tracing and not an original work. Credit the original sources. Also maybe, just maybe, take down the shop that sells tracings under the guise of original work.

“Well she’s my friend, I don’t care what you think!”

Are you? Are you really the kind of friend that would let someone do this kind of thing to themselves and to others? You’re this willing to be manipulated and lied to? Take a step back, if you are so inclined and look at the facts. Blindly accepting someone’s word while proof looks you right between the eyes isn’t being a friend, that’s being a fan. An over-idolizing and unhealthy fan at that.

Thanks for reading, guys. I hope you all have a great night.

-Wilford