not too sure where this comes from

anonymous asked:

Hey. Just a question. I know it'll be weird 'cause I'm an anon coming up to you with this but I'm telling you, I tried telling this to people I personally know and they kinda don't believe? (If that's the right word) Is dreaming of becoming a theater actor too big for a broke girl who dropped out of college because she couldn't afford to continue her studies? Is it impossible because my talents are mediocre? I knew I wanted that when I was 12 but I wasn't so sure until I saw Hamilton. Help.

It’s definitely not impossible or too big of a dream. It doesn’t matter where you come from. You can make it a reality. No matter how hard it may be or how impossible it seems, just know you’ll get there. I’m rooting for you. :)

WHAT ARE THE SIGNS MADE OF?

Aries:
The PASSION of a five year old that really wants to steal a cookie out of the cookie jar.
The CHARISMA of a potato. A charismatic potato.
The INTENSITY of an earthquake, rocking your world and your house since before years were a thing.

Taurus:
The STUBBORNNESS of a child that refuses to eat their broccoli and will cry until their parents let them leave the dinner table.
The COMPLEXITY of doing algebra problems without a calculator.
THE DEPENDABLENESS of that one friend who always tries their best to not let you or anyone else down.

Gemini:
The IMPLUSIVENESS of a middle schooler’s first kiss.
The FLEXIBILITY of a professional gymnast, constantly flipping and turning 360 degrees at a time.
The TALKATIVENESS of a child who just learned how to talk. You want to ignore them, but you can’t because they’re just so gosh darn cute. 

Cancer:
The CARE a teenager has towards their new phone for the first week of owning it.
The PASSIVENESS of someone who is always unaware of their surroundings, but for some reason always knows what’s happening around them.
The GENTLENESS of a shiny glass cup, one mistake and they can be broken right before your eyes.

Leo:
The DRAMATICNESS of an episode of pretty much every teen drama that has been on the air for way too long.
The EGO of celebrities, always inflated and is constantly validated by others, either negatively or positively.
The GENEROSITY of a teacher that decides to give the class another day to work on a tough homework assignment. 

Virgo:
The PERFECTION of opening a new book and smelling that new book smell.
The INDEPENDENCE of a tall and beautiful flower blooming in field full of dull grass and dirt.
The CRITICALNESS of a Gordon Ramsay that spends his life roasting people on twitter.

Libra:
The CHARISMA that Aries wishes they could have and 34 shades of more charisma on top of that. Loads of charisma.
The INDECISIVENESS of someone who really wants to text someone that they like, but doesn’t want to come across as desperate.
The PEACEFULNESS of feeling that everything is okay in life and being able to finally get a good night’s sleep.

Scorpio:
The EVILNESS of a villain that just wants to be understood in this complicated world.
The PARANOIA of someone that’s been hurt way too many times in another life and just came out the womb guarded.
The WIT of someone who just mastered the art of sarcasm and refuses to talk any other way.

Sagittarius:
The CURIOSITY of a child wanting to know where babies come from and will not stop until they get answer.
The HONESTY of a mom that always wants to make sure that her children look as good as she does when leaving the house.
The INTERESTINGNESS of that one strange toy from 5 years ago that you found while cleaning your room the other day.

Capricorn:
The AMBITION of a grandmother making food for her starving grandchildren on a Sunday afternoon.
The MATURITY of an adult who finally understands the concept of adulting and is pretty gosh darn good job at it.
The INTELLIGENCE of Einstein, but it may not always be used. Trust me though, it’s there. 

Aquarius:
The STRANGENESS of your cousin that everyone thought was going to be successful, but is now a professional hipster.
The REBELLIOUSNESS of a suburban teen who just discovered rap music times one hundred.
The DETACHEDNESS of someone who has not been able to find someone that they can fully trust yet.

Pisces:
The CREATIVITY of doubt and security dancing together in a flame of inspiration.
The INTUITIVENESS of a good friend that always knows when you’re upset and how to cheer you up.
The COMPASSION of sweet child who just wants to make sure that everyone around them is happy.

anonymous asked:

So like it's pretty cool how humans figured out how to bake. Like we made edible chemistry, we like mixed all of theese reactions together to make a delicious cake. Imagine an alien seeing this for the first time.

Oh my goodness!! My first prompt! Thank you!

Hruk’ib didn’t understand why everyone was so concerned about the humans. For the most part, they were polite and friendly, they followed the orders of their superiors, and they didn’t hesitate when it came to tossing protocol out the airlock in dire times. Hruk’ib respected them and had known from Day One that these members of their crew were not just allies but assets.

So it was that when Hruk’ib smelled strange smells coming from the food preparation bay, he wasn’t too upset; a couple of the humans - Konani and Frederik - loved to work with food and did so regularly. Still, curiosity drove him to enter the bay, and it was when he entered, the doors’ hydraulics hissing open and then closed, that he sensed the excess heat.

FIRE!

He froze where he stood, every instinct of his species urging him to flee yet conflicting with the ingrained training of the fleet to make sure his crewmates were safe and away and not near fire! He couldn’t see it, there was no smoke, but he felt it – hot enough to reduce flesh to nothing more than charred ashes.

“Oh, hey, Hruk’ib!”

Hruk’ib’s head snapped around to find the two humans hovering around one of the many stovetops. In his peripherals, however (and it was a miracle in the first place that he noticed at all), he spotted the most unholy mess: white dust coating a prep table, glob-like splatters of what looked like sticky excrement in bowls and dripping onto the tabletop, and at least four or five of what looked like some kind of metal mesh trays on various nearby counters. The trays bore small, round objects that appeared solid and gave off a most enticing scent.

Then his eyes drifted back to the humans who stood uncertainly. Konani had heavy, cloth gloves on her hands and held a long, thin tray. Her brown eyes flicked from him to Frederik beside her and back again. “Um, this batch has to cool but if you want a cookie, there are some fresh ones, uh, everywhere.” She gestured with her elbow to the counters.

The humans were calm. Why were they calm in the face of fire? They weren’t that stupid. They were determinedly foolhardy at times, especially when ethanol was involved, but even humans got worried when fire threatened.

Hruk’ib forced himself to take a deep breath. The heat rushed down his throat and into his lungs – no ash, no smoke, just heat. It was a different heat, similar to when they passed too close to a star and the very ship felt like an… an oven.

The oven was not designed to give off this much heat!

“What is it that you are doing?” he asked, trying to calm down.

Konani busied herself with the…cookies, leaving Frederik to explain. “Ve are baking,” he said. “Ve asked Yensen to tveak ze oven settings because zey vere too low for baking cookies.”

“We asked permission first,” Konani added. “Captain K’alo said we could but only if we did it to one. We made a notice and everything so other crew won’t accidentally set fire to their food.”

Frederik stepped out of the way and Hruk’ib spotted the massive note tacked to the wall above the stove in question. The bright red sign was impossible to miss and the white letters were clear in both Earth’s English, as well as Hruk’ib’s native language of Jubri.

Hruk’ib nodded his head in the humans’ agreement signal. “Very well. I was afraid you had set the room on fire. We usually do not encounter this kind of heat outside of the engine cores,” he explained.

“Ah,” said Konani. “That makes sense.”

“Ve apologise for startling you, Hruk’ib,” Frederik added, pressing his palms together.

Hruk’ib smiled at the human displaying the sign for formal apology among his species. He lifted his left hand, palm turning inward and then upward to accept it, and Frederik smiled in turn.

With her hands still full, Konani simply inclined her head to him, also apologising.

“What is baking?” Hruk’ib asked.

“In a word, chemistry.” Shedding the gloves, Konani faced him fully, leaning against the counter. “It’s different from cooking because the ingredients in baking react to the heat and, if you get the recipe right, work together to create something else. It’s not like we’re roasting meat where we have to cook it to eat it safely. You can eat an unbaked cookie without much threat.”

“Alzough, zere are many people who zink you can get salmonella - zat is food poisoning - from eating ze dough because of ze raw eggs,” Frederik put in.

“Oh,” said Hruk’ib. “Then, you are conducting a chemical experiment.”

“In essence, yes. Want one?” Konani held a mesh tray out to him.

Now Hruk’ib drifted forward, purposefully ignoring the mess, and bee-lined for the tantalising aroma wafting from these strange, dark-brown discs.

“They’re a friend’s recipe,” Konani explained. “She made sure I had enough cocoa powder to last me ten solar cycles, though I’m not sure I’ll use it all.”

Hruk’ib chuckled, sensing the humour, and picked up a cookie. It was still warm between his appendages. It was solid yet somehow soft, almost moist… He flicked his tongue out, sampling, and was rewarded with a burst of flavour. He took a bite. Barely hard on the outside, it was luxuriously soft on the inside. He had never eaten one of these things in his entire life and yet something about eating it and the smell of it reminded him of home, of blankets and coziness and something that was better than camaraderie: family.

Science. This rapturous product was one of science. May the humans and their ingenuity never die out.

Hruk’ib licked his fingers before turning to the two humans who watched him with mixed expressions of humour and curiosity. “May I have another, please?” he asked.

Konani grinned while Frederik laughed.

“Of course!” she answered while Frederik continued to chortle. “But it is a universally acknowledged truth that a glass of cold milk always accompanies the eating of cookies.”

Hruk’ib took the glass Frederik gave him, interchangeably eating and drinking. Milk and cookies, together: a universally acknowledged truth, indeed.

Here's the thing about shows like Sense8...

It’s not mainstream. It’s not cookie cutter. Strong female leads. Compassionate male leads. Heroic poc leads. Multiple healthy lgbt relationships. Cultures around the world being respected and celebrated. Without a doubt, we should see these things regularly in media, but we don’t. And that’s why Sense8 was set up to fail.

It was exploring stories most shows wouldn’t dare touch. Those of us here on tumblr see the need for that. We crave that. But Amy from down the street doesn’t like change. Greg from work likes detective shows. Diane from church is telling everyone to boycott that show because it’s from the devil. And those are just the people who heard of the show… It doesn’t get promotion ads during The Walking Dead. It doesn’t come on directly after Grey’s Anatomy. It doesn’t even come on a channel so that people might accidentally switch over and be captivated by its beauty.

The burden of promotion fell on Netflix. They want to claim it was too expensive. That there weren’t enough viewers to offset the cost of production. And I’m sure that’s true, but whose fault was that?

I learned about Sense8 through friends from here, where a show like Sense8 is accepted and even celebrated. Unless I actively sought out information about the show, I didn’t see anything about it on any other social media sites. I’ve seen people talk about Stranger Things, OitNB, Making a Murder, etc. all over the place, but silence when it came to Sense8.

When I think about why, the answer is pretty clear: Netflix didn’t bother to promote their own show. I don’t have cable, which means I spend a decent amount of time on Netflix, but I never saw Sense8 on the main screen. It wasn’t in my suggestions even though it is very much in line with my “type” of show. It didn’t pop up in the new arrivals sections. Hell, after I started watching it, I would often have to dig for it in my recently watched section. Even when it was the last show I watched, it would get booted to the end of the line.

Netflix took a show with the odds stacked against it from the get go and did absolutely nothing to promote it. With this type of show, word of mouth is key. It has to be promoted enough not just to pique interest but to demand viewership. They needed to shove that show down everyone’s throats the way they do with OitNB or Stranger Things or even shows that aren’t even their own like Riverdale. But they didn’t.

This is on Netflix. They failed to help a beautiful and captivating and thought-provoking show thrive. They gave up on it when it deserved so much more. And I will be bitter about it for the rest of my life.

I don’t know when, why or where did your love for me go but I do know one thing for sure - it is gone.

And I’m not going to beg you to find it and come back to me.
You can go too.
You already have.
But now I’m letting you go from my heart too.
And my love for you?
It hasn’t turned into hate or resentment. Not even regret.
It’s just up in the sky like a dead star.
Our love is officially dead.
But it’s past is shining like it should.

—  creatingnikki 
Kisses {Harry Styles Smut}

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N
RATING: R lol
WORD COUNT: 10k y’all!!!
REQUESTED: nope !

this is my longest one shot, it took up like 20 pages on microsoft word lmfao !! anyways it took me a bit longer than usual bc i went through a slight block (rip) but it is finished and i’m quite proud of it!! feedback is much appreciated, it rly motivates me!! ok that’s it i hope u enjoy :-)

~*~ 

Keep reading

Your senior year roommate calls herself Clarity. She’s very small and rumpled and distant, and she goes for long walks in the forest south of campus when she’s frustrated. You aren’t friends, but you coexist peacefully. It’s enough.

The creature on your co-owned Walmart futon isn’t Clarity.

It looks like her. Enough to fool a casual observer, certainly. Enough to fool someone who hasn’t been soldering sterling silver for six hours. But you have, and the truth of silver lingers, and the Thing That Looks Like Clarity is sprouting delicate flowers from the skin of its bare shoulders.

It’s sitting cross-legged and perfectly, terribly still, tracking your eyes as you take all this in. When you sigh and set down your backpack, it says, “Hello, smith. There didn’t seem to be any sense in pretending.”

“Jeweler,” you say, and, “I go by Florence, these days. What should I call you?”

It blinks, languid and slow. “I’m not here to usurp. I’m a… placeholder.”

“It’s still confusing as shit, my guy.”

It considers this at length. Finally, with the air of one who has just solved a great puzzle, it says “Claire. We will know, the two of us.”

“Works for me. Nice meeting you, Claire.”

And that seems to be all there is to say. Your roommate’s been stolen by the Fair Folk, you’re living with a changeling, and there’s not much you can do about either of these things. You scroll through Instagram until it gets tired of watching you and wanders out into the hallway.

So that’s Claire.

Keep reading

6

so hey guys i’m doing a giveaway!! because i’m not really that interested in haikyuu!! anymore and i’d rather these go to good homes where people can u know. enjoy them. also i don’t have the boxes for a lot of them because they either got thrown away or i lost them in the hellpit of my house or i left them because too big for luggage, though the buttons that aren’t the bigger lev button i just found on ebay so i’m not sure where those come from. basically the moral of the story is keep ur merch boxes my friends.

so there’s no point in me selling them. so i’m giving them away! 

i’ll just. u know. throw everybody’s name in a randomizer and pick two winners. woohoo.

1st prize winner gets to pick 3 figures, one mini figure, two straps, a choice of the oikawa squishable thing whose name i cant remember or the kenma plush pin, and 4 buttons!

2nd prize winner gets everything else!

i have some rules too! be sure to read them before entering the giveaway.

1. u have to reblog to be officially be entered in the giveaway. however, if u have reblogged, u can also like for an extra entry. reblogging a lot will not get u more entries. u can only have 2 entries so dont be greedy and try to get more!
2. u dont have to follow if u want to enter the giveaway but if u want to i guess go for it? i dont post much hq anymore lmao
3. no giveaway blogs!
4. please get back to me if u are the winners within a week or i will pick a new winner.
5. uhh just be nice play fair and we’ll be all good i guess?
6. also ill cover shipping costs so dw about that this is about getting free stuff not paying for shipping and handling

i’ll pick the winners of this giveaway on april fools day because i am a fool for losing my boxes so have fun? hooray

dex has red hair

i have red hair too, which is pretty awesome. and also horrible, sometimes, because being ginger affects so much more than the just the pigment of your hair. so anyways here are some facts about dex and his hair bc i can relate:

  • he’s so pale
    • he’s so pale
    • even when he kind of manages to get a little darker after a sunburn fades, he’s still paler than everyone else’s normal skin tone
  • he does not tan. ever.
    • yeah sure, he may work on a lobster boat all summer, but buddy, i promise you, he’s not gonna come out of it looking nice and bronze
      • (why do people write fics where he comes back from the summer with a killer tan??? no bro, he probably just looks like a lobster. it sucks)
    • his skin just slowly gets pinker until he has a terrible sunburn, and then sometimes if he’s lucky it will turn out a little tanner when it fades
    • he probably uses at least spf 50, lbr here
      • actually, nah probably higher than that if we’re being honest
      • and he has to apply it like every hour
    • ugh and oh my god, he probably gets splotchy sunburns!!!
      • SPLOTCHY SUNBURNS ARE THE WORST
      • basically you think you’ve put sunscreen everywhere and spread it evenly but NOPE
      • random blotches of your skin will just be bright red while the rest is ridiculously pale and you look like you have some sort of disease-ridden rash
      • it has probably happened on his face and it’s the saddest thing
  • he has freckles for dayssssss (especially after the summer because they come back in full force during that season)
    • freckles everywhere
    • in the most random places
    • some are on his lips and on the back of his knees and his elbows and just very odd places
    • its a never ending cycle of freckles fading while new freckles form
    • he kind of gets a tan through his freckles??? 
      • bc he has so many and as they fade they kind of blotch together and make him look tan, but when you look really close you’re just like, oh, those are just tiny dots bunched together, not the actual pigmentation of your skin
    • he has. SO MANY. freckles on his shoulders
      • if you are of the male specimen, you probably go out shirtless in the summertime, and the sun hits you really hard on your shoulders, and thus, so. many. freckles. there.
      • (this is literally the most prominent place of freckles for redhead boys. please ask my brother and all of my cousins)
  • “does the carpet match the drapes?” ;)
    • why do people ask this
    • he gets this all the time, and it’s not just from people hitting on him
      • PEOPLE JUST GENUINELY WANT TO KNOW FOR SOME REASON???
    • and it’s super awkward
    • especially when they don’t match. bc um. a lot of times they don’t. just so you know.
    • “haha, firecrotch, huh?”
      • will wouldn’t find this funny even if it were accurate
  • back to the sunburn thing, it’s nice in the winter when he doesn’t get fried!! JUST KIDDING BC BLUSHING IS A THING
    • yeah anytime he gets remotely embarrassed or flustered, his face is the color of a tomato okay
    • even if he’s not actually uncomfortable, it still happens
      • “dex, nice shirt, man.” ➝ red face
      • “dude, nice assist!”➝ red face
      • *accidentally bumps into someone* ➝ red face
    • anytime nursey says anything ever, his face is red. i promise you this. i know this to be true
  • HE NEVER WEARS RED
    • or pink or orange, for that matter
    • (but i mean he goes to samwell so the red thing is kind of hard)
    • he unintentionally gravitates towards green and blue clothing bc his mom probably accidentally instilled in him that they compliment his hair as a child
      • this is so real. this is the realest, most relatable thing
    • going to samwell was probably super weird bc he had to start buying spirit wear and stuff and when he did, he realized he didn’t own any other red clothing
  • people always make irish jokes or assume he is irish, especially around st. patricks day
    • dex has no idea if he is irish
  • people always ask if another redhead they know is related to him
    • no
  • he has heard every “ginger” joke under the sun
    • no one has ever actually bullied him for it
    • but everyone makes the same jokes
    • will basically mouths the words as people say them bc he knows them so well at this point
    • he’s not actually bothered or offended, it’s just like… dude. he’s heard this before. you’re not being original
      • it’s very boring and a little irritating
    • but if he gets annoyed or doesn’t laugh people think he is a bad sport, so!!! he laughs them off even though he’s very disinterested and wants to tell them to maybe get some new material so they can actually say something remotely humorous next time
    • and he totally knows its not a big deal at all, bc some people have to deal with racist or homophobic jokes, and this doesn’t remotely compare. it’s just… very eye-roll inducing.
  • he gets horrible bruises for the stupidest shit, and sometimes just randomly and he’s not sure where they came from, bc ya gotta love that sensitive skin!!
  • oh and back to the ginger jokes thing, someone always makes a comment about that redhead temper!!
    • which is kind of unfortunate, bc dex kind of does have some temper issues
    • those jokes do not make him less angry either
      • (dex, seriously man. just chill for a sec)

wow this got really long and i could go on forever and ever but yeah basically this is the gist of it. also i’m aware some of this can apply to lots of people but anyways hooray for redheads!!

4

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Kara had solar flared twice in the space of as many weeks. Sure, her powers always came back, and yes, today, she was completely fine, but J'onn and Alex were worried.
“Kara, you’re just going to burn yourself out again. Take the weekend to recharge. J'onn has Supergirl under control, James has offered to help out too,” Alex said, ushering Kara out of the DEO.

Kara groaned. She knew where Alex was coming from, but it was 8AM on a Saturday, and the most strenuous thing Kara had done the previous day, was staying up until 9PM texting Lena. Speaking of Lena, Kara figured her friend could probably use a relaxing day out of National City too. So she sent off a text.

Lena, of course, was at L-Corp, meaning Kara had to use the key Lena had given her for emergencies. She let herself into the apartment, much to Lena’s exasperation, and packed a bag of casual clothes.

She made her way to L-Corp, greeting Kerry and Monica at the front desk and Johnathon the security point on her way through the front doors.

Lena was packing up her paperwork when Kara let herself into Lena’s office. She dumped the bag on the couch and grinned cheekily at Lena, who had her arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“You know that key is for emergencies only…?”

“This was an emergency. You’re working on my weekend off. Lena, I never get the weekend off…” Kara huffed.

Lena smirked, “Ah yes, the busy schedule of an investigative journalist… News waits for no one, right?”

Kara rolled her eyes, “You should be thanking me. Get dressed. We’re going to the beach.”


||  Next.>>

What it's like to be an INTJ

- Constantly watching one (or more) person and tracking their movements so you know their pattern. Like a high school teacher; watching how they move around the room to determine if/when they will come to you, paying attention to who they call on, etc.

- Wanting to be touched, but wrenching away when a stranger barely touches you. Then feeling where they touched you and how it felt for hours. You want a hug from someone (they have to be really close to you) but not sure if you’re able to handle being touched again yet.

- Being lonely but being surrounded by dozens of people.

- Wondering why other people can’t have the same intellect level as you.

- Those moments where you have 0 common sense. All of it just goes out the window. (You’re never too sure when it’s going to come back.)

- Looking for the most efficient route in a scenario, and zig-zagging until you get there. Namely in a crowd of people.

- Having a deep, dark aesthetic. (People call you emo, but you’re not. Or maybe you are. Who knows.)

- Devoting all of your time to one sole thing, learning all you can about it, until you’re forced to move on.

- Hating jobs that force you to do mindless work for hours upon end. It’s better if you’re actually doing something, not being a zombie.

zimbits au wherein a run in with the lax bros leads to a run in with jack

Eric’s walking down the street, latte in one hand and phone in the other, only a very little bit lost on his spontaneous scenic detour to the library. He’s halfway through composing a tweet when several air-horns blast in his direction at once.

He swears, jumps about a mile out of his skin, and drops both his coffee and his phone.

The coffee, sadly, goes up before it comes down, and manages to splash all over his front before spilling across his shoes too. He quickly retrieves his phone from the pavement before it’s similarly attacked by the travelling coffee, and checks it over for damage. He sighs out when he sees it’s only a little scratched on the side of the case, and presses a palm to his chest to try and calm the furious beating of his heart.

He looks over to the house across the way, out of which several, men—actually, boys, Eric’s going to call them after that stunt—are laughing at him, and high-fiving each other. Eric flushes and screws his lips together, telling himself not to cry in front of them, not to give them the satisfaction.

“Hey! Dickfaces!”

Eric looks behind him to see a moustached man flipping the bird to the boys in the house across the street.

“Fuck off to your basement of inadequacy and wine coolers, you absolute shitfuckers.”

The boys don’t take his advice, but rather, blast their air-horns again which causes Eric to hunch up his shoulders.

“Hey, brah, you alright?” The man walks up to Eric and looks him over. “Shit, dude. They got you good.”

Eric sighs out, trying to keep his composure. “It’s alright. Thanks for telling them off.”

“Fucking LAX bros. I live for telling them off. Come on inside and I’ll help you clean up.”

Keep reading

What The Signs Are Made Of?

Aries:
The PASSION of a five year old that really wants to steal a cookie out of the cookie jar.
The CHARISMA of a potato. A charismatic potato.
The INTENSITY of an earthquake, rocking your world and your house since before years were a thing.

Taurus:
The STUBBORNNESS of a child that refuses to eat their broccoli and will cry until their parents let them leave the dinner table.
The COMPLEXITY of doing algebra problems without a calculator.
THE DEPENDABLENESS of that one friend who always tries their best to not let you or anyone else down.

Keep reading

Voltron Frozen!AU

Consider:

-Ice Queen Allura

-Her younger (and lonely) brother, Lance

-Coran, the faithful royal advisor and caretaker 

-The charming Prince Lotor of the Galra Kingdom

-Ice boy Keith and his reindeer, Red

-Hunk loves warm hugs don’t fight me on this

-Lance ofc falls for Lotor bc Lotor is nice and sweet and makes him feel worthwhile (like a lot of Lancelot hcs)

-Then he has to deal with Keith, who talks to his reindeer and is rude (and possibly a little crazy wt the boulder thing)

-KEITH HAVING A LOVING AND SUPPORTIVE FAMILY

-Hunk is ready to melt for Lance and also this sunshine boy needs some sun

-Fuck yeah Lance punches Lotor in the face

-L a n g s t

-White haired! Altean Lance bc that happens too in this story

-N then theres Shiro with the white streak

-where did it come from?

-another snow wielder?

-who knows

-find out in the sequel

EDIT: For those asking about Pidge, I’m not really sure but I think she/they would come in like Shiro-after the original plot. Feel free to add your own ideas if you’d like

Cure (intro)

Bucky Barnes x reader 

Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, memory loss, recuperating, fluff, angst and obviously, eventually: smut. 

Summary: Bucky comes back from a mission, not remembering who he is or who anyone else is. He doesn’t remember Steve, Natasha or the woman he loves. She does immediately catch his eye, though. He thinks she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he’s not afraid to say it in front of people he doesn’t know anyway. What does he have to lose? As far as he knows, he has nothing. On top of being somewhere he doesn’t remember ever being and being stared at by people who seem to know him, but he doesn’t know in return, he hears a voice in his own head. Because, of course, he must be insane. 

A/N: Here we are! The sequel series to Remedy :) I was gonna go somewhere else with this, but it kinda hit me out of nowhere and I thought this could be as sweet and cute as it could be heartbreaking and funny at the same time. Get ready for some awkward situations (and boners), people! 

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

There’s a woman standing in front of me. She looks sad, scared; but still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. She says ‘Bucky’, and I can’t help but think that I’ve heard that before, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t know where I am, but I feel no threat, not from the man in the blue combat-suit next to me, not from the red head that’s next to him, holding his hand and looking equally sad as the woman before me. Not even from the man with the glasses and a doctor’s coat on my left. They all look at me as if they know me, and.. like me? They look nice enough, I guess. But I can’t help but stare at the woman standing only a feet away from me, tears in her eyes. She looks so sad.

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roteli  asked:

You mentioned in a post that fiction ≠ reality, but to kids it's not, fiction shapes how they see the world. Fiction is supposed to show them what's right and what's wrong. Adults who support adult/minor relationships make it had for children to distinguish that line if they haven't dealt with discourse (in the actual sense of the word) on serious subjects before. I can't make you stop shipping adult/minor ships, but I hope you consider what you're posting and the consequences that they have.

Is it fiction that shapes their perception or context?

I will agree that what we see in the media can influence us to some extent; a tragic movie can bring us to tears, just like a drama can educate us on matters across the globe, and propaganda has been used - even in modern day - to try and change the opinions of the masses to suit a greater power.

That being said, those things all rely on context: our tears spring from empathy, the education relies on a desire to be educated, and propaganda usually is on the back of a society willing to believe or being fed specific information from other sources. It’s like in children’s shows. We see Bart Simpson being strangled by his father, or Keith name-calling Lance, but children usually know these things are completely wrong.

They know not to imitate ‘Tom and Jerry’, because they have parents and teachers there to say: “it is wrong to hurt someone else”. They get time-outs on the naughty step, or a spanking in certain cultures, or just a long lecture … they usually have some trusted figure there to discipline and/or explain, so that everything they watch is through that same filter of understanding.

It’s why we need to supervise the media our children consume.

I think you are right: if this is the only discourse a child sees, it can have detrimental affects, but - massive ‘but’ here - where are the parents/guardians? Why are strangers on the Internet meant to parent the children of other people, whom they have not agreed to legally raise?

See, when we grew up, this was a constant discussion. We were taught basics of reproduction as soon as we asked questions. We were taught about ‘naughty places’ and ‘private places’. We were taught never to let an adult touch there. These discussions evolved over time, so - as a young teenager - we were taught about statutory rape, that even if we ‘want’ it that it’s still wrong, and so forth and so forth … 

We need to put the responsibility for raising a child on the parents.

Tumblr is 18+ on the app, 13+ on the website, I believe? While AO3 allows all content and explicitly states this, while having a tagging and rating system for you to make an informed choice about what you see. This means we have to lay responsibility upon the parents for not supervising or limiting the Internet activity of the child, instead of trying to infringe upon the rights of adults and remove their safe spaces to produce/consume art as they wish.

It’s basically a case of there being safe spaces for children, too, where they can discuss/consume art freely without coming across such materials, but that falls upon the parent to make sure that they are on the right websites … example, if I do not like porn then I avoid porn sites. If I don’t want to see shipping, I don’t go onto Tumblr or AO3.

What I’m advocating is personal responsibility. 

We need parents/guardians to stop the children from seeing these things, or for them (and schools) to provide a context to what they see … if a child knows that it’s fiction, just like child abuse in ‘The Simpsons’ or glorified violence in ‘Tom and Jerry’ is just fiction, they won’t normalise it and seek to emulate it. The answer isn’t to ban or censor such cartoons; no one would ever say ‘ban cartoons’, because they’re a part of life, but I think providing context to cartoons is absolutely key to these things.

One last example … 

I was around eight when “South Park” first came out; we watched it religiously as children, even with videos cassettes of it, because parents assumed that it was safe as all cartoons were for kids (that was their mistake and their fault as parents, because - like with shipping - the content isn’t the problem, but that it’s made accessible by parents unwilling to supervise their own children). 

In our case, we had massive context for what we saw (luckily, our parents were good on that score, which is part of why I always advocate teaching children, especially if you aren’t willing to supervise them). We never copied the bad language (some people I know today never swear; even I say ‘shoot’ or ‘darn’ as a general rule). No one I know copied the violence (I don’t have a single friend from that group who ever tried to kick a baby, for example). 

It was just entertainment. We laughed and enjoyed it, but we never copied it or held it up to a standard of normality … it was just a cartoon; we knew that, because our parents taught us that, as well as teaching us the behaviour in such cartoons was inappropriate in real life. This is why education is key.

If a child has parents that accidentally let them see Keith/Shiro, they should at least have the education and context to know that behaviour is inappropriate and should not be copied … it’s not up to shippers to stop creating such works, because the places we’re in are designed for adults or for all age-groups with explicit rules allowing such art. Now, if I went onto a children’s forum and posted such things -? Bad. On Tumblr -? Not so bad.

Sorry for the long essay back. 

We just need to realise that art/fanfiction isn’t the problem; the problem comes from parents/guardians not contextualising what children see, or preventing them from seeing it in the first place. We also need more safe spaces just for children, both moderated and supervised by responsible adults, so they have places to go that - well - aren’t Tumblr or AO3.  

Of Ships

Ignacio enters the Pixie’s Kitten. It’s a very fine establishment, with plenty of people wearing very strategically placed bits of silk, as well as some rowdy dudes enjoying the libations and sights.
Ignacio: Hola, I am seeking for men and women to fly my ship.
Everyone looks up at this bombastic entrance and several people raise an eyebrow.
A scantily clad women, presumably of the evening, takes Ignacio’s arm.
“Well, I’m sure we can find someone who can… pilot.”
Ignacio: So long as they are good with the helm and accepting of gold, I do not care.
Madam: “Well, are you looking for a… bosun, or a cabin boy?”
Ignacio: Preferably a bosun, por favor.
Ignacio is not quite so familiar with sailing terms in Common.
The woman pats Ignacio’s arm and walks off, sighing to herself.
“The good looking ones always plow the other row…”
Ignacio: Plow rows? I’m looking for sailors.
Madam: “No no, I understand. We’ll find someone.”
The woman walks into a back room and is gone for some time, before coming back with a guy that might have been carved from a tree. He looks Ignacio up and down.
This burly fellow is shirtless and looks like his skin is half oil.
Ignacio: Ehh… He does not look like a sailor.
He’s not wearing the uniform.
Señor, do you have a sailor’s outfit?
Madam: “I think I could find one somewhere.”
Ignacio: I’m not convinced. Can you provide me a more authentic sailor? Perhaps someone who owns a belaying pin?
The man grins.
“I have one of those, too. Not sure where it is, though. You want to help me find it?”
Ignacio: I suppose. Do you mind long stays in the sky?
Faregal: “I do need to be paid overtime.”
Ignacio: Do you have any experience at the helm?
Faregal: “Helm and belowdecks, too.”
Ignacio: Excelente.
Ignacio turns to the madam.
Ignacio: I would like to bring this one with me.
The madam blinks.
Madam: “We don’t typically do long jobs.”
Ignacio: I will be keeping him. I’ll pay him well. I desperately need a helmsman for my long voyages in the sky.
I don’t normally hire prostitutes as sailors, but I think this one can do the job. What is your name, señor?
Faregal: “How mu- wait, an actual sailor?”
Ignacio: Did I stutter?
The buff dude looks confused for a few moments before nodding.
Faregal: “Right. Of course. A ‘sailor’. Sure. What are your rates?”
Ignacio: Two gold per day.
Consistent work.
The buff prostitute blinks.
Faregal: “Two g-”
Turns to the madam.
Faregal: “I quit, you’ve been lovely, thanks, bye.”
Ignacio: Bien. I have one more place to visit before you see the ship. Hasta luego, señora.
The madam stares after this high roller.
Ignacio walks out of the brothel with the prostitute in tow, What is your name?
“Faregal.”
Ignacio: Bien Faregal. I need you to perform any and all services asked of you, even if they seen unorthodox.
Faregal looks at Ignacio.
Faregal: “Yeah… for two gold a day, you can whip me bloody.”
Ignacio: Oh, and you will never discuss your pay with your crew mates.
Ignacio unfolds his sword and holds it to Faregal’s throat, “Understand?”
“Woah! Woah! I understand!”
Ignacio: Muy bien.
Ignacio folds his sword.
Ignacio: Where can we find a good hunter in this city?

Jamaica

This is a lil something I wrote because I watched BTA and it ruined me…special thanks to @sing-me-a-song-harry for helping me edit and sort it out!! Hope you all like it!! xx B

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The sunlight was blinding, the humidity making your skin sticky and already making your hair nearly unmanageable as you made your way off the tarmac. You squinted and pulled down your shades, your eyes darting everywhere until they landed on a curly head of hair about ten yards from you. Harry was bent over his cell phone, lips rolled into his mouth and a pair of black RayBans holding his hair back from his eyes. He looked as delicious as ever, and you swallowed as you admired the slight tan he’d acquired over the past couple of weeks. Harry had always held a soft spot in your heart; with his killer smile and charming personality, you often wanted nothing more than to get on your knees for him. That sort of thinking wasn’t appropriate though, especially since the pair of you had always been just friends, nothing more. You cleared your throat.
“Harry!” You called and his head popped up, a warm smile on his lips.
”‘Lo, love! ’Ve missed ya, glad yeh decided t'come down.“ His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing sweetly to your cheek, and you bit your lip as the scent of him flooded your senses. You loved the way he smelled. “Shall we?” Harry reached for your bags, leaving one arm draped casually over your shoulder.
“How’ve you been, H? How’s the writing?” Harry’s dimples deepened, and his eyes sparkled happily. He was well-rested for once, with no dark circles under his clear green eyes, and you smiled up at him as he began to ramble on about his album. Harry talked the entire way to the house he shared with his writing partners, his voice light and hands moving animatedly as he drove. The house itself was gorgeous, and when Harry showed you to your temporary room, you couldn’t help the snort that came from your lips.
“What happened to living modestly hidden in Jamaica?” A shrug and a half smile was his response as he set your bags down. He suddenly seemed close, very close, and his eyes had a new, unreadable look in them.
“’M glad yeh came, love, really. ’S been too long.” Harry gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear and out of your face, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Your tummy flipped when you watched his eyes dart quickly to your lips. If only he would just lean a little closer…..
“Harry? Y/N?” The pair of you jumped at Jeff’s voice calling through the house, your cheeks heating as Harry scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeh, um…get unpacked and settled, yeah? I think everyone wants t'go out t'night, yeh should go.” Harry turned to leave, his shoulders a little tense, and you frowned.
“Are you not going?” His head turned to look at you over his shoulder and he offered a small smile.
“Yeh know me, love; partying isn’t m'thing, is it?” Then he was out the door, leaving you to mull over going out or not.
Two hours later, everyone but you and Harry filed out of the house, taking all of the loud noise and talking with them. Harry’d taken to sitting by the dining table, a guitar in his hands and a glass of wine sitting in front of him as he strummed quietly.
“Mind if I join you?” His eyes flew to you, his lips curling into a smile. A large hand tunneled through his hair as he looked you over, taking in your pajama shorts and loose tank top. You could’ve sworn a flash of desire sparked in his eyes.
“Not at all. Wine?” He was already pouring you half a glass, sliding it over to you as you took the seat next to him. Thanking him with a nod, you took a sip, your gaze moving to the large windows to admire the view of the beach and beautiful sea beyond it.
“How’s everythin’ in your world? How’s..what’s his name?” You didn’t miss the way his lip curled down in distaste at the mention of your last fling.
“Wouldn’t know. I ended it just after you left…prick was sleeping with two other girls.” A grunt left Harry’s lips as he propped his guitar against the table, his hand coming to rest on your thigh.
“I’m sorry, love. Yeh too good fo’ him anyways.” You shrugged, draining the wine from your glass and setting it back on the table.
“I sure know how to pick them, eh?” A humorless laugh left your lips and Harry frowned, shaking his head.
“’S'alright, pet, he was the one with the problem, not you.” You rolled your head back, still hyper aware of Harry’s warm palm on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your bare skin.
“Where are all the good ones, H? The creeps and arseholes are always the ones I attract. Where are all the men like you?” Harry’s brows rose a little, a ball tightening in his stomach. All he’d wanted to do since you’d gotten off the plane was kiss you until your lips were swollen, and now here you were, asking him where men like him were hiding. He shifted a little closer to you, hand tightening on your thigh.
“Men like me?” The words were quiet, unfocused as Harry watched your throat move as you swallowed.
“You know, men who…are real. Who aren’t afraid to let you know what they want. Men who are loyal, good guys. Where do all of you hide out?” Now you were so close to each other that you could feel his warm breath puffing over your cheek. Harry’s tongue swept along his bottom lip, and you longed to kiss him. His fingers edged under the hem of your shorts, goosebumps raising on your skin.
“’M certainly not hidin’, angel.” A crooked smirk tugged at his lips and then Harry leaned in, his pink lips covering yours. You gasped, and it was enough of a space for his tongue to edge out, sweeping along your top lip as if to ask permission. You eagerly gave him more room to work, your hands going to fist in his white t-shirt as his tongue met yours, tentatively brushing over it. When the first tiny whimper bubbled from your throat, Harry pulled back, his forehead pressing against yours.
“D'yeh wan’ this?” Always so good, that was Harry. So, so good all the time. In response, you stood and leaned over him, taking his jaw in your hands and kissing him hotly. A surprised grunt rumbled through him as his hands grasped your hips, pushing you back as he stood. Your backside met the wall, and you moaned as Harry’s hands began to wander. His fingers worked to push your shirt up and over your head, revealing your tummy and chest to him. He tossed your shirt to the floor and his hands moved to cup your breasts over your bra.
“Harry,” you managed, hips bucking into his, moaning again once you felt the hard length of him pressing against your lower body.
“Yeh wet fo’ me? Hm, angel?” Your bra straps were tugged down your arms, and the clasp was undone before your bra joined your tank top on the floor.
“Yes, yes, I’m so wet.” It was true; your panties had been ruined since his hand first landed on your thigh. A growl left Harry’s lips at your words, his dark eyes dropping to your breasts.
“Jesus, pet. S'pretty.” His tongue lapped over one of your nipples, and you let out a garbled moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he wrapped his lips around your breast. Harry’s hips rutted into yours, desperate for any amount of pressure on his aching cock. Your hand slipped down to slide into his loose shorts, easily finding his cock. He groaned against your skin when you circled your hand around his thick length, enjoying the heavy weight of him. Harry worked to yank down your shorts and panties, lips moving heatedly over your exposed skin.
“Christ, darling, feels s'good.” His breath puffed against your collarbones as he thrusted his hips with each stroke of your hand, moaning each time you thumbed the tip of him. Your free hand went to pull down his shorts, thankful for the fact that he tended to go commando, and your mouth watered at the sight of his fully hard cock. It was flushed and pretty, little pearls of precum already beading on his head. “S'nough, pet,” Harry said darkly, one arm going to brace the wall beside your head and the other moving to grasp your thigh to wrap your leg around his hip. “Yeh ready?” He asked as your fingers twisted in the thin material of his shirt. You nodded as Harry mouthed along your jawline and crowded against you, one hand moving to guide himself into you.
“Big!” You gasped, reveling in the burning stretch that came as he buried himself to the hilt. A low, rumbling groan spread through Harry’s chest, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around him. His lips closed around your earlobe and he began to thrust, hips rutting into yours with smooth, measured strokes. You were so tight and warm around him, taking every inch of him gladly, and Harry was seeing stars by the time a curl of pleasure began to ball in his stomach.
“Yeh feel amazin’, pet…knew yeh would, wanted this fo’ so long.” His neck veins strained as he threw his head back, his words turning into long moans as your walls clenched around him. His thick cock brushed every nerve in you, goading you quickly to your orgasm as his lips lowered to your neck. Harry nibbled at your damp skin, tongue soothing the sting of his bite as you mewled loudly.
“Please, Harry!” You cried, hand slipping up to tug at his hair. Harry growled at the feeling, hips shifting to pound into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the otherwise quiet house, and you thanked whoever was watching out for you for sending your friends out of the house for the night.
“Can yeh feel me all up in yeh?” Harry’s hand circled your wrist and led it to rest on your lower belly, where he pressed it down until you could feel the tip of him brushing your walls. A loud moan ripped through you. Filthy. He was absolutely filthy with you, and you couldn’t help the garbled half-sentences that fell from your lips as his fingers went to circle your clit.
“Close! So close, baby, please.” Your voice was strangled as you fought for a decent breath, your throat dry from crying out. Harry’s lips covered yours, swallowing your moans and shouts as he moved faster, his cock beginning to twitch inside of you. The kiss was just as filthy as his words, sloppy and wet, all tongue meeting tongue and lips smacking against lips. Your hands fisted tighter in his shirt and hair as you barreled towards your orgasm, back arching.
“Yeh gonna cum fo’ me? Gonna b'good, pet?” Harry’s tongue licked down your throat and you screwed your eyes shut as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good, please, please, Harry. I’m so close,” you cried, head rolling back against the wall. Harry grunted in response, the vein that wrapped along the underside of him pulsing with pleasure as he neared his edge.
“Cum,” he puffed against your breast, “cum fo’ me. C'mon, angel, give it t'me.” Your mouth parted in a silent moan as your orgasm broke over you, white flooding your vision. Harry was quick to follow, spurting hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep inside of you. Sweat coated the both of you, and the Jamaican air wasn’t helping, almost suffocatingly hot as you fought for breaths. Harry’s head rested against your collarbones, his softening length still nestled inside of you. You pressed short kisses to his hairline, trembling still, and Harry huffed out a laugh.
“Well tha’s one way t’ welcome yeh.” You let out a shaky laugh as he withdrew, hands coming to cup your cheeks. “’Ve wanted yeh fo’ s'long, love.” A sweet, chaste kiss was pressed to your mouth and you smiled sleepily at him, running a hand through his messy hair.
“Now you’ve got me.” You replied. Harry’s response was a wicked, promising smirk that made heat coil in your belly again.
“C'mon, pet, there’s a king-sized bed with silk sheets that I need t’ see yeh writhing against.” And writhe you did.

Amren is Manon

Okay, so I just finished reading both series and I was already speculating what Amren was when I read that SJM had told one of her readers already and they had freaked out. This means that we must already know what sort of creature Amren is without needing much more explanation. I also read that SJM confirmed that ACOTAR and TOG are in the same megaverse, so their separate dimensions can hypothetically be reached through, say, a wyrdgate. 

Therefore, after careful deliberation and mulling over each character, all still fresh in my mind I have come to the conclusion that the best bet for what Amren’s true form is…. Manon.

Keep in mind, this would be Manon thousands of years after the war with Erawan in which she fell through a wyrdgate into the ACOTAR world as the cauldron was creating it. She was then trapped there and ensnared into a Fae body and went berserk, doing enough wrong to get her sent to The Prison. When she escaped, she knew that by now, Dorian and all her friends were probably long dead but never lost hope of returning to her realm. 

There are a couple different points to back up my theory: 

1. The blood drinking (emphasized by her particular love for goat blood which is what she and the Thirteen hunted and ate while in the Ferian Gap) 

2. Her disinterest in other people, especially advances from men as (hopefully) she is still harboring her love for Dorian perhaps and not wanting to bother with the fae of this realm when her heart belongs in another dimension 

3. She can read the Book of Breathings, written in a long forgotten language that everyone had forgotten. However, perhaps with everything in the war, Manon learned to read Wyrdmarks, as it was necessary for winning, and never quite forgot how to decipher it. Though after thousands of years she needed to brush up a bit before being able to read and translate the book. Or it could just be the dialect of Erilea that she has forgotten over the millenniums and must now remember how she had talked, and how she had read, feeling more and more sorry for Elide as she struggled to remember the way words were spelled and how the letters looked because she hadn’t realized how difficult it was to not be able to read.

4. Her automatic softness towards Feyre after she opened up about what happened with her family and what Tamlin had done to her, reminding Amren of a girl, thousands of years ago in another dimension who had also been abused and treated wrongly. So she gave Feyre the amulet to help her without even knowing her more than twenty-four hours. She just couldn’t help herself, there was so much Elide in that thin, Tamlin-wrecked girl that arrived at the House of Wind.

5. The fae body she is trapped in is the exact opposite from Manon’s, “several inches shorter than me [Feyre], her chin-length black hair glossy and straight, her skin tan and smooth and her face - pretty, bordering on plain - was bored’. This is in direct contrast to Manon, who has long, white hair, and a pale complexion, also quoted by Dorian that ‘he’d never seen anyone so beautiful’. Not to mention the eyes, Amren’s silver eyes battling with Manon’s deep gold. Whatever spell trapped her in that body, made her the opposite of what she once was, forcing her to hate this cage not only for the Fae exterior but the lie is portrayed over her once revered beauty. 

6. She joins a court that can fly so that she might once again feel the wind in her hair after so many years under a mountain in the dark. Also reminding her of her Thirteen, cleaved apart before darkness could claim them and away from her Abraxos who is left without a rider for the remainder of his life. But if I go too much into this one I’m gonna cry.

7. The jewelry ties into it somehow, probably. I’m thinking that she went through the wyrdgate using either The Amulet of Orynth or the Eye of Elena and it somehow got lost in transit. She had idly mentioned she was looking for a rare piece of jewelry once to Dorian and he has been buying the rarest pieces he can find for her ever since, knowing it is to somehow help her return. 

I’m not 100% sure where the powers came from, perhaps simply appearing in this realm or coming with the body, maybe gifted to her from Dorian, or honed from millennia in The Prison. Or any other twist SJM wants to play. 

TL/DR Amren is Manon trapped in another dimension, in another body, apart from everyone she loves and has been trying to get back to for the past five thousand years +