okay nothing you can say is going to change my mind

shibolet3  asked:

Wait what con artist from 2014

I’d like to title this story “Swing And A Miss

Okay, so my high school had this program where seniors could leave school like a month and a half early and opt out of exams if they took on internships around the neighborhood, but not everyone wanted to/was eligible to do it. Back in like 2013, they had like 15 bored seniors stuck in the school, so the administration brought in this Professional Life Coach, left him in alone in a room with them for two hours to talk to them about like, self-esteem or some shit. All the kids were pulled out of their classes for this*, and later told the administration that they loved him, they really enjoyed the talk.

So, about a year later, we have a new principal. He’s supposed to set up an assembly for all the 11th and 12th graders, but he doesn’t know what to do. One of his coworkers mentions that there was a life coach that was a huge hit with the kids that didn’t do community study last year, so maybe he’d also be great for a larger audience. The principal basically thinks “okay, what the hell” and calls up and hires Jason C. Jean to come talk to the kids.

Now, it’s like, 10:30, maybe 11:00 in the morning, and two entire grades are getting shepherded to the main gymnasium, and no one wants to God damn be there. We ain’t got time for self esteem talks. We want to sleep. And this guy, watching us all drag our feet in and collapse into the bleachers was just like…offensively peppy. There’s a couple faculty members sitting behind him, the woman who suggested he be hired for this, the vice principals for the grades- but the principal himself kept getting calls so he was in and out the whole time.

Now, Mr. Jean was like…the chill “Just call me by my first name dude” history professor at college times 30. He was trying so fucking hard. I’m referring to him as ‘Mr. Jean’ in this story just to be disrespectful. So anyway, we all get in there, and he tells us right off the bat “You guys are totally allowed to be on your phones and laptops during this! I get it! It’s no problem, like really, I insist!” so while the faculty members are exchanging smiles that read ‘how do we kill that while respecting him’, all the kids are immediately pulling out their electronics and he’s starts his speech.

Now, again, I really wanna reiterate that he told us we could be on our phones- because when the news articles started coming out about this, I remember all these angry, annoying comments from old people like “Why the hell were the students on their phones in the first place! So disrespectful! These damn millennials and their social media!” like, they were completely ignoring the entire story and just focusing in on kids using the internet, and it Really Super Pissed Me Off, so. Again, we had permission for this (which also ended up being Mr. Jean’s fatal mistake).

So, he starts off this speech fairly normally, like ‘hi, I’m Jason, I’m a professional life coach and I wanna teach you kids about how to be The Best You!’ and like people were tuning him out and listening to varying degrees. Some kids (like myself) were kinda dozing off, and everyone was on twitter or facebook.

His approach to a self esteem speech seemed to be ‘let me tell you my entire life story for hours’ and like, at first I was like “I’m not really hearing this, I’m half dreaming right now” but the more I started making myself pay attention the more…bizarre and rambling his story got.

So like, for instance, he told us he drank a lot in high school. Like, a lot. But he didn’t use that as a ‘don’t drink or party too hard’ lesson, instead he was like “I was fourteen so I always called my parents to pick me up, and they weren’t mad because they knew it meant I could trust them. So remember, always tell your parents when you’re drinking!” and then it kinda got to a point where it sounded like he was encouraging partying and drinking and the like to the group of underage kids.

And then, he told us how he used to play baseball all the time when he was a kid, and at 16 reached a crossroads in his life where the Phillies wanted to draft him or he could go play football for Penn State. And he said he went with Penn State but later lost the scholarship for some reason and we’re like…really.

There was absolutely nothing coherent about anything he was saying- nothing that tied anything together, made a point, seemed like it had anything to do with an assembly on self esteem. He told us at one point he was making upwards of 7 million a year. He told us one time before college he was homeless. He told us he used to own a construction company and built his own branch of nightclubs himself, that he and his friend then ran. He told us he fought a shark and came out with no scars. He told us that he had less money now, because after surviving a work related accident- direct quote- “I fell almost 30 feet and I broke in half” - he decided to leave that industry and spend more time with his family.

So, yeah, I was pretty positive this was bullshit, but there were clearly kids in the room that were falling for it. But then he said something like…he and his friend got bored one day and started jarring up their own pasta sauce, and made a deal with wegmans or some store like that to start selling it, and now he has a pasta sauce empire. Like he spent 15 fucking minutes on this. The way he kept saying ‘pasta sauce’ was so annoying I was about to claw my ears out. But anyway, two girls in my grade wanted to find out what brand he was talking about, so they googled his name.

And then quietly gasped.

And then furiously started typing into their phones.

And remember- everyone, even though they were paying attention- was on twitter and facebook. All the sudden I see heads flying up and wide eyes and people whispering to each other. Mr. Jean doesn’t seem to notice the change and keeps rambling on, but I know something happened so I google him too and-

Okay so basically he’s 1) been arrested, 2) filed for bankruptcy like three times and 3) has been hailed as a ‘Swinger Guru’ by playboy.

EVERYONES SILENTLY FLIPPING OUT.

So by now, this is a fucking game- he still doesn’t notice anything wrong amongst the kids, so we’re all silently texting each other to fill each other in. Pulling up receipts. But still playing the part of politely intrigued audience members. The school faculty have no fucking idea what’s going on, until one of the students texts her mom, who happens to be the woman that convinced the principal to hire this guy. We see her check her phone, go wide-eyed, and she runs out of the fucking room presumably to either find the principal or hide in terror.

So Mr. Jean had been talking to random people intermittently throughout this speech, but we reach the ‘questions’ part of it. Everyone seems to silently agree that instead of just asking him anything outright, we should just see how good of a liar he was. So they’d be asking him stuff like ‘how much money did you make with ____ company’ and he’d give a ridiculously high number as people were sending each other reports of him filing for bankruptcy during that time. Or they asked him about his construction business which he said was great, and while he was talking about how great it was we were all reading his arrest report, from when a woman hired him to build her house, and he took her money and then like…just didn’t build anything. Wild. Someone asked him about his family and he’s extolling Christian virtues while we’re all on the website for his annual Swing Fest. People would ask him how he got certain jobs and he was making promises to hook kids up in interviews and shit. Everyone was loosing their God damn minds online and just barely holding it together in person. This man was so beyond full of shit- like, he was a God awful life coach but his dedication to lying was inspirational.

We eventually get to leave and everyone is yelling and cracking up and freaking out, all running to our classes to tell the teachers and the underclassmen everything, and the teachers are freaking out, alternating between horrified confusion and laughing hysterically. Before the school day even ended, someone had called a bunch of news stations. The principal was freaking out and denying he had anything to do with it, before calling some students to his office to see what exactly the kids had searched up on the guy…Because apparently teenagers can perform better background checks than school officials. It was all anyone could talk about for weeks.

A couple months after this, for my theater class’ showcase, I wrote and directed a skit called ‘Mason B. Mean’. It was a huge hit. The principal was in the audience. I’ve never seen a grown man look so dead inside. I made sure I was out of the room before he came up to congratulate the cast and everything. The next day, my theater teacher told me his only comment about the skit was a quiet, long-suffering “Why.” 😂😂

Annnnnnnnd that’s the time a Swinger Entrepreneur rambled on about pasta sauce and money in front of teenagers who knew how to use google for almost two hours.  

http://www.philly.com/philly/news/breaking/Montco_principal_apologizes_for_having_swinger_entrepreneur_speak_to_kids.html

How to Read Energy and What to Expect

As many of you know, one service I offer on this blog are energy readings. I have gotten a lot of inquiries on how I do these readings, so I would like to inform you on my methods as well give you tips on how to do them yourself. Please note that I am not an expert nor do I have the final say on how to do energy readings properly, this is just my experience. 

Understanding Energy
The way I understand energy is as the force that inhabits everything at one point or another. Everything has an energy signature, down to the smallest grain of sand. However, the energy of living things is a bit different. There have been many names given to this energy but it is most often known as one’s life force. The hardest part of an energy reading is picking up on one’s particular energy among the trillions of energy sources swirling around at any given moment, but I will tell you how I do this.


How to Read Someone’s Energy

My method for reading energy is going to be different from everyone else’s. Your method for reading energy will be different from everyone else’s. Everyone has their own techniques for reading energy, but here are a few of mine.

  1. Sit in a comfortable location with at least part of you pressed firmly against the ground. 
  2. If you are reading for someone irl, have them sit near you. Physical contact often helps if both of you are comfortable with that. 
  3. If you are reading for someone not physically present, it can help to have a piece of them “sit” in front of you. I ask for names and blog urls when I do my readings so that I have an energy signature to focus on but you really can use anything or nothing at all, whatever helps you get a lock on the other person’s energy. 
  4. Sit in front of the person or blog and close your eyes. A bit of meditation before you try to tap into their energy is a good idea.
  5. Feel the energy of the earth under you and feel out this individual’s energy as it appears, a piece of the earth just like you.
  6. Grab onto this energy. Snatch it from the earth just briefly. Images, smells, tastes, sounds, colors, and feelings should come to you as you feel their energy. Keep a mental note of what you experience and write it down once you return.
  7. What you have experienced while feeling someone’s energy is their energy reading. It may be a bit of a jumbled mess, but that’s okay. Everyone’s energy is different but there may also be some overlap, which is also okay.

You can give someone their energy reading in many forms. I give mine as a paragraph with everything I saw, yours may be only a line or two. Everyone experiences different things when reading energy and having shorter readings isn’t a bad thing. You may even pick up on more or less energy from each individual. Its totally okay if some readings are long and others very short. 


So…. What if your energy reading doesn’t resonate with me, like, at all?

There could be a great number of reasons your reading went screwy. As I said before, energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it simply changes shape. This being said, it could be a number of factors.

  1. I am picking up not on your energy, but the energy of someone very close to you. If you have been in contact with them recently, pieces of your energy sometimes clings to them. 
  2. It could also be that I am reading into the energy of one of your past lives, something you won’t necessarily resonate with or remember.
  3. It could also be that the reading was accurate but maybe some part of it was hard to hear, or some repressed memory. This is not the fault of the reader, in the long run it is up to the client to interpret the reading. 
  4. It could also be external factors in my own life clouding my ability to pick up on your energy. My cat knocks over a vase in another room and not thinking I write that in as your energy because I was so lost in the moment.
  5. It could also be you’re my last in a long line of energy readings and I am exhausted and hurriedly trying to get through your reading without paying attention to detail. 
  6. It could be any number of things, all acting upon one another. Keep an open mind. 

Whatever the reason for your energy reading not being accurate, it is best to just be polite and move on. No good will come of harassing a reader, especially if they are offering a free service. 


I just did an energy reading and I’m exhausted!

Yup, that’s a real thing and totally normal. Energy readings can be draining, especially for beginners, as you expend some of your energy when you tap into the earth and go out in search of other energies. This is especially draining at first if you have not yet learned how to shield your energy when searching in the energy field and subsequently some of it may be leeched out. Here are some self care tips to help you regenerate faster.

  1. Time yourself. I like to light a stick of incense before I start my readings. Once it is completely burned out, I stop no matter what I’m doing and go drink some water and just do something I enjoy for 30 minutes or so before returning to readings. 
  2. Eat or drink something sugary or high in carbohydrates while you read to return energy lost. I like to munch on sweet cherries while I read.
  3. Learn to shield yourself from energy drain. I imagine my energy dressed in a suit of impenetrable armor before I search out someone’s energy. Your shield can come in any manor of form, find one that feels right to you and keeps the pesky energy leech out. 
  4. Take little breaks in between readings, even just a minute or two to catch your breath. 
  5. Use crystals to return your energy. I like to take some moon-charged amethyst and hold it in my palm during breaks, feeling its energy flow into me. 
  6. Practice self care. Shower, change your clothes, put on some lotion or makeup… Anything like that will help replenish energy.
  7. Take a nap! I have a bad habit of doing energy readings as soon as I wake up and then I’m dead for the rest of the day. Napping helps immensely. 
  8. Know your limits. You probably won’t be able to do 20 energy readings your first day. Pacing is so important.
  9. If you are doing energy readings online, be prepared to use the block button. Some people are going to be rude, but that is their problem not yours.
  10. Have fun! If energy readings become stressful take a break. If someone is waiting on you for their energy reading, they will understand if it comes a little late. If not, fuck ‘em. You don’t owe anything to people who don’t care about your well being as a reader. 

There are a great many things you can do to recharge after an energy reading, but these are just a few of my favorites. Everyone is different, and respecting that is key. 

Remember actually enjoying yourself is key. Good luck with your energy readings!

Skyline

Warnings: None

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Thank you to all those who followed me and read my first fic!  I’m thinking of doing a part two to this one, so if you like it, let me know!

Your fire escape had always been your favourite part of your apartment.  Situated outside your bedroom window, you had spent countless hours of your life lounging on the metal steps, reading a book or catching up on some homework.  Last summer, you had wound a string of fairy lights around the rails, which were coated in shiny dark paint.  Your landlady had protested at first but, after you proved that they weren’t endangering the use of the fire escape in any way, she had let you keep them.  The small victory had brought a smile to your face, and now your escape was even cozier than before, and was still just as cozy a year later.  This year’s summer brought scorching heat and clear nights, and you spent most of your free time out on your escape, trying to catch a breeze.

You sat on your fire escape now, wearing a lightweight hoodie and pajama shorts, doodling in a journal.  School was out for the week and tomorrow didn’t require a six am wake up call, leaving you free to stay up late and admire the Queens skyline at night.  It was nights like these that you loved the most; nights that seemed like they were pulled straight from a movie scene, with stars that glimmered like flames, a full moon bigger than you had ever seen before, and the sounds of the city mixing in with the quiet melodies that drifted out of the speakers propped up on your window sill.  You would be content for the rest of your life if you could keep moments like these forever.

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This morning I was thinking about the LGBT+ community I know vs the LGBT+ community now, and something dawned on me. The LGBT+ community doesn’t respect its predecessors. Gay culture has changed drastically over the last 10 years, and I’m okay with us moving forward naturally with what people within the community naturally want - I’m not okay with us shitting on the past, erasing the past, degrading the past, as we do so.

The LGBT+ flag is topical so I’m going to start there. During the aids crisis, we never gave up. People were faced with something that was killing them on a biological level, and they said “Fuck you”. People had “going away” parties after being diagnosed where they would go out and drink and drink and drink, not going home for days, they would kill themselves because they didn’t want to let aids have the last say - they said “Fuck you, I control my life, I control when I die”. Other people, even some of the first to be diagnosed while they were still giving out numbers with each new diagnosis, are still alive today - they said “Fuck you, I’m going to take everything I can and do everything I can, you are not taking me, bitch”. We added a black line for those people. And now people think that those struggles don’t deserve that colour any more, that instead of using the pride flags they already have for the intersection of race and LGBT+ issues, they can appropriate all of those deaths.

Punks and rockers in the 70s and 80s stood by gay people, we shared our fashion sense and our flare for the dramatic, bright hair colours and clothes that stood out. Punks and rockers got beaten up for being presumed gay. The leather and spikes in the metal community were popularized because gay artists in that community wore those things on stage - it came from gay culture. And now those very bands and communities have to constantly remind people that they’re left-leaning, that they’re for gay rights, that they’re against systems of power - because somewhere down the line someone decided that gay culture was now flower crowns and unicorns, and that the other subcultures have been against us all along.

Drag queens and leather and revealing clothes are constantly pictured online with captions saying that they’re inappropriate at Pride. Fucking Pride - a protest, a party, a celebration of all of the wild and wonderful aspects that we incorporated into our culture when we said “We’re outside of the norm and so are you, so lets rock it together”. They were our body guards, they took the brunt of the insults and violence while those who were afraid hung back and looked “normal”. They are our history. They are the communities we stood with because we all understood what it was like to be ostracized and judged, and we accepted each other, and we became stronger together. Pride is a protest and a party in one, it’s not a safe space, it was never supposed to be - and if you’re okay with a woman wearing nothing but a lacy thong and marching at a Free The Nipple protest with “Slut” on her chest in permanent marker, as I see so many of the people who decry Pride outfits celebrating, it’s a giant fucking double standard to not be okay with revealing outfits at Pride. If you’re okay with someone dressed as a slutty unicorn at a Slut Walk, then why aren’t you okay with leather short shorts and a leash at Pride?

And alcohol!? People complaining about the alcohol in the gay community are so utterly unaware of our history. Gay bars were our first real “Safe Spaces”, Harvey Milk and other incredible gay activists rose to popularity partially because of their incredible personalities, their parties, their fun and kind nature, how they welcomed people in and offered them drinks and fun and friendship with no question. Our history is full to the brim with proof that being fun and exciting and rebellious was what drew people to us.

And the one that grinds my gears the most is slurs - is how everyone is so quick to be offended by words. That’s not what the gay community has ever stood for. The film “Pride” said it best when it said that when we’re called a name, we take it and we run with it. The “Pits and Perverts” concert happened because the newspapers called us perverts and we said “That’s catchy”. You can’t take away people’s power by giving that word all of the power and then saying that only bad people can use it, only people that hate you can use it - because now the word means “I hate you, I have power over you, you disgust me” - you take their power by making the word meaningless, by taking the word and going “ours now”. That was one of the staples of the LGBT+ community, a motto that we all lived by. But now people talk about how those words have “always been used to oppress us”, as if that never happened.

Y'all act like you want the world to think that LGBT+ people are pastel coloured, young, innocent, harmless angels - we’re rebels, we bring the fun, we bring the energy, we fight to the death and we’ve won over and over and over again; we wear our hair big and bright, we wear our labels on our chest, not because we want to ~normalize~ and ~raise awareness~ but because we’re daring the world to fucking try it, because we’re saying to the homophobes “I’m not scared of you” and we’re taking their power and their words. This modern LGBT+ community isn’t doing that, it’s screaming “Think of the children!” like the conservatives of old, it’s insisting that we’re quaint, middle class, and “just like you”, instead of “Fuck you we don’t have to conform”. It’s becoming what we fought, it’s turning on its own members, past and present, for engaging in parts of our culture and our history.

~ Vape

Everything Has Changed (Part Two)

Summary: In which everything changes when you discover Bucky’s true feelings for you in a very unconventional manner.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,800

Part One

Originally posted by there-and-always-back-again

The sound of something steadily beeping in your ear brings you back to the surface of consciousness. You wade through the murky waters of your mind, trying to keep your cool when the simple task of opening your eyes turns into a losing battle.

Why can’t you open your eyes? Why does your body feel so heavy?

You grow more frantic as your body fails to follow through on any of the commands you direct at it. It’s not until you realize that something is restraining your arms that an overwhelming tidal wave of memories wash over your body and send you back underwater.

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Scratching the Itch

Square Filled- Friends to lovers

Rating- Explicit

Tags- Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader, smut,

Word Count- 2300ish

A/N: For @spnabobingo. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


Hunting’s a total blast until you hit your heat. In between each cycle, you only know how much fun it is to catch a case, to get on the road and feel the rumble of Dean’s car beneath you, all open windows and loud music. The fights are always rough, but in the way that makes you feel strong, in a way that makes your muscles ache with anticipation just to think about it. And of course, there’s the feeling of knowing that you saved someone, that you stopped one small little evil and left the world a little better for it.

But then your heat hits, and you remember. Hunting is not ideal for an Omega.

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“I want to talk to you about something,” Even says and Isak’s stomach literally falls out of his ass. Thing is, there’s a reason for this. Because the last time Even had used that specific phrase, he had just been accepted into a film school. In London. And Isak had just been accepted into a biomedical research position in Oslo. Of course, it all worked out in the end because they are Isak and Even and they’re like, fated, or some shit that Even always says in the nighttime hours, but damn was that a rough couple of months.

So like, the phrase causes a brief flash of panic.

Isak glances at the table– which probably should have been his first clue that something was up. Even had made all of his favorite foods for dinner. And he knew he spotted strawberry shortcake in the kitchen, so Even had gone for the big guns in buttering Isak up.

He swallows the bite of chicken and takes a swig of red wine (because he is now one classy motherfucker.) “Okay?”

Even taps his fingers on the table and then reaches up to take his own sip of wine, but puts it back down just as quickly. “Okay. Okay here we go.”

But Even says nothing right after that, so Isak has all the time in the world to fucking lose his mind.

“Even,” Isak hedges, “Baby. You’re freaking me out. Like a lot.”

“I know.” Even shakes himself, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how you’re going to take it and this is like- a life changing conversation so I’m trying to be articulate and get it right on the first try.”

Isak runs a hand through his hair, “Well, are you divorcing me?” 

Even shoots him the most deadpan look in the world, so Isak lets a little smile tug on the corner of his lips, “Okay good. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Even freezes and opens his mouth and Isak raises his eyebrows, “That was a joke. Even, if you’re pregnant I need to have a serious discussion with someone about the laws of biology.”

Even throws a wadded up napkin, “I’m not fucking pregnant, you shit.” He plays with the collar of his white cuffed shit (Another! fucking! red! flag! because when the hell have they ever dressed up for each other?), “But like- it has to do with that.”

“Just come out and say it,” Please god, say it before Isak has an aneurysm, “Whatever it is, do it.”

So he does.

Even takes a deep breath and says, “I want to talk about adopting a kid.”

Isak blinks.

There is a bit of ringing in his ears, so he doesn’t quite hear the way Even scoots his chair back and slides to his knees right in front of Isak’s chair, “Baby?”

Me baby?” Isak says dumbly, “You want a baby. Like a real baby.”

“Yeah,” Even’s voice is level, controlled. “Yeah, I really do, Isak. And it doesn’t have to be now. But I want to talk about it with you.”

“With me,” he repeats dumbly, “You want a kid with me? Why? Oh my god, Even, I’m a mess. I’ve been going commando for the past week because I ran out of boxers and I’m too lazy to do laundry!”

That damn grin at the corner of Even’s mouth nearly does him in. The quick kiss Even presses to his lips does, “You are the only person I would ever want a kid with.”

Isak grabs his wine glass and chugs it, “A kid. Like you and me adopting a kid and taking care of it and raising it until it’s 18. Changing diapers and… going to school performances and… rocking it when it gets sick.”

Even nods softly, “And taking family vacations to the beach…. teaching him or her all about movies… and you can teach them about parallel universes and other science stuff.”

“Holy shit, Even…. you want a kid. With me.”

“I do.”

Isak thinks about it, like a home movie where the actors haven’t quite all been chosen. He sees himself and Even, and a little human with flashes of blonde hair and hears baby giggles and-

He sees Even folded into a tiny little bed with a children’s book on his lap and a nameless, faceless, child (their child) in his lap. And Even is grinning and reading to them in funny voices. Then he sees himself behind a kid, directing them on how to look in a telescope.

He sees so much.

“This is a big thing,” Isak says, “A really, really big thing. Are you sure you want to?”

“The only thing I have ever been sure of in my life is you, Isak. I want to do this with you.”

“Okay,” Isak breathes, “Fuck. Let’s adopt a kid.”

youtube

I was informed that @ohnips was super transphobic and racist on her twitch stream on 8/8/17. I was sent this video by one of my kind followers. You can find out more on ohnips from my #ohnips tag. If google does not answer a question you have related to gender, feel free to ask. 

My transcription is under the cut with the most interesting quotes in bold.

Please reblog this and let trans people and allies know what this woman believes in. 

***ALSO DO NOT SEND DEATH THREATS YOU ANIMALS***

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Summer Camp

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4800

Prompt: 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Not helping me with the table or being a dick to me the last month?” Y/N snaps, grabbing a fist full of his shirt.

Harry presses his lips in a line, he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. Y/N didn’t seem like the type to swear and she looked cute when she got mad. Her nose would flare in anger and she would let out an annoyed sigh. Her hand moved from his shirt to his arm and she gripped it tightly (and Harry felt like maybe, just maybe, it was supposed to hurt him).

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” Harry chuckles.

“And you’re cute when you’re not a fucking asshole,” Y/N retorts.

Harry laughs, his grip on her tighten slightly as he lets out a huge and loud laugh, “oi! What was that for?” he asks when he feels a sting on his arm.

“For being mean to me the last month, what did I do?” Y/N asks.

“Yeh did nothing,” Harry says, and he feels Y/N’s hand smack his arm again, “okay-fuck, you’re strong for such a little thing,” he grumbles, “I heard you talking about me to the rest, laughing, saying you would never date me-oi! That’s the last one you get, next one, I leave you here and you can hop all the way up the path on your own.”

or 

Harry works at a summer camp where he really hates kids and people, but Y/N is an exception.


Harry hated people.

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AMERICAN GODS SENTENCE STARTERS

episode four - git gone

  • ❝ d’ya mind ?
  • ❝ best drinks have self defining names. you order a manhattan, god knows what you’re gonna get, but you order a gin and tonic, a jack and coke, it’s not just a name. it’s a command. ❞
  • ❝ how long you’ve been working here for
  • ❝ ooh, that’s bad luck. ❞
  • ❝ don’t do it. ❞
  • ❝ i was waiting for you. ❞
  • ❝ why’d you help me ?
  • ❝ you’re really not very good at this; i saw you coming a mile off. ❞
  • ❝ are you trying to recruit me ?
  • ❝ you could be a world class thief. ❞
  • ❝ you look like you could get anything you want just by asking for it. ❞
  • ❝ what d’ya say, huh
  • ❝ hang on a minute. i’m sorry. ❞
  • ❝ i owe you one. i feel beholden. ❞
  • ❝ let me buy you a drink. ❞
  • ❝ let’s go somewhere. ❞
  • ❝ so you are a thief. ❞
  • ❝ the weak spot, see ––– all you need is one. and it’s usually people’s attention. ❞
  • ❝ show me. ❞
  • ❝ oh, god. ten years, and [ … ] has NEVER looked at me like that. ❞
  • ❝ there’s a lesson in there somewhere. ❞
  • ❝ my grandma always had cats. she said that they could see ghosts when we can’t, and warn you of thieves. ❞
  • ❝ do you ever worry about what will happen if you keep stealing
  • ❝ do you believe in the afterlife
  • ❝ all i know is there’s more than i know. ❞
  • ❝ yeah, i think that might sound wiser than it is. ❞
  • ❝ when you die, you rot. it’s a fixed system. physics doesn’t take sundays off. ❞
  • ❝ my parents believed in everything. father, son, holy ghost, spirit filled and full of the light of god. they taught me all of it, chapter and verse. ❞
  • ❝ i went to bed every night in a world full of magic where anything was possible. ❞
  • ❝ it’s like everything that made the world anything more than what it is is just –– stories. like snake oil. but worse, because snakes are real. ❞
  • ❝ i wanted to get that magic back so bad, but one day i just accepted the fact that i couldn’t, because life is just not that interesting. ❞
  • ❝ don’t look at me like that. ❞
  • ❝ the fun is just getting started. ❞
  • ❝ i could teach you to fight. ❞
  • ❝ hey, you want coffee ?
  • ❝ are we pregnant ?
  • ❝ what i’m about to say may sound irrational to you, but i have all sorts of rational reasons for saying it, and doing it. ❞
  • ❝ say it, and we’ll talk about whether or not you should do it. ❞
  • ❝ are we … discussing this, or are you telling ?
  • ❝ there’s some wiggle room. ❞
  • ❝ are you unhappy ? because i’m happy, okay, you make me happy. ❞
  • ❝ yes, i see that you’re happy. from this side of it. the wrong side of it. and i think maybe i resent not being happy. not resent you, just … resent. ❞
  • ❝ do you still love me
  • ❝ we are like a history book. we’re established fact. we don’t change. ❞
  • ❝ i represent FAILURE to you
  • ❝ i can take it. if you’re on the other side. i can make it if you can. can you wait for me
  • ❝ just glad that i could be here to help you, you know
  • ❝ hey, don’t stay here alone tonight. ❞
  • ❝ why did you say that ?
  • ❝ come on, [ , say what you mean. ❞
  • ❝ last night was a one time thing. you were there. and thank you, but we’re not doing this. we did this. and now it’s done. ❞
  • ❝ you don’t love him. not the way he loves you. ❞
  • ❝ is that all this was ? just fun
  • ❝ are you saying no
  • ❝ i lived my life, good and bad. definitely not light as a feather. ❞
  • ❝ in life, you believed in nothing, so you will go to nothing. you will be done. ❞
  • ❝ there is nowhere else for you to be. ❞
  • ❝ tears have fallen for you. ❞
  • ❝ do i get a say in this ?
  • ❝ death is not a debate. ❞
  • ❝ how many do you think have come before you, all with promises and threads and offers of gold, glory, love ? who are you to misguide me from my duty
  • ❝ you are but a man, not even one i should remember. ❞
  • ❝ i’m gonna come in now. i’m gonna come in now, okay
  • ❝ is this a haunting ? are you haunting me ?
  • ❝ does [ … ] know
  • ❝ i’m a vulgar woman. anger and grief have just really made me vulgar. ❞
  • ❝ god, you know, i should thank you. it’s so much easier grieving someone when you’re glad they’re dead. ❞
  • ❝ oh, fuck your feelings. ❞
  • ❝ everybody has feelings, everybody cares about what they feel. i don’t care about what you feel. i care about what you think. what do you think about what you did ?
  • ❝ what was your big lie, [ … ] ?
  • ❝ i love [ … ] … loved [ … ]. love [ … ]. i love [ … ]. (s)he’s the light of my life. ❞
  • ❝ you, i remember. ❞
  • ❝ there is nothing i can do to lighten your heavy heart. ❞
  • ❝ your heavy heart sank you like a stone, right back where you last left off. ❞
  • ❝ was it love ?
  • ❝ love will always have you at a disadvantage. ❞
  • ❝ many is the man who would take any version of his lost love rather than leave his love lost. ❞
  • ❝ (s)he/they will say thank you to whichever god has sent you back to him/her/them. ❞

One more from this long list of prompts, completely unprompted.

Number Eighty-Five: “They got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”


“Der, we got another one!”

Derek sighed, put down his fork, and glared up at the doorway where Stiles was about to appear with the mail. It was bad enough the mailman rang the doorbell in the middle of breakfast, but for another damn proposal? They should’ve just pretended they weren’t home.

“It’s from the McMullen pack in…Montana, that’s a new one,” Stiles announced as he shuffled back into the kitchen in his boxers, a large box in his hands. “And look, they got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”

Derek rolled his eyes and went back to his eggs. “Just throw it away.”

Stiles made no moves to throw it away. He set it down on the corner of the table between their plates, and Derek had to grab his coffee mug before it spilled.

“You’re not even going to open it?” He drummed his fingers on top of it excitedly. Stiles loved opening packages. “What if it’s something cool?”

“It’s never something cool.”

“That’s a lie. The last one was great.” He still looked thrilled over the badly cross-stitched Den, Sweet Den hanging over the toilet. Derek glared.

“As soon as I get Lydia here to clear out the ash, I’m taking it down and it’s going in the garbage.”

Stiles finally gave up and sat back down to his meal, leaving the box right where it was. “I can’t believe you would insult Marjorie’s hard work like that. You know she’s a powerful alpha from a powerful pack.”

The accompanying proposal letter had stated as much, a number of times.

Derek pointedly moved the box to the floor. “A powerful alpha, but not a skilled cross-stitcher.”

“Big words from the guy who buys new jeans every other week because he can’t fix a tiny tear.”

“I can, I just don’t want to. It looks tacky.” And unlike Stiles, who spent all of his college years learning to sew his clothes back together to save money, Derek could afford to buy new ones.

That, and the entire town was still kind of waiting for him to be hauled off in cuffs for murder, and wearing tattered and worn out clothes tended to make them whisper about that poor sheriff’s boy, he deserves someone nicer. They always learned shortly after that Derek was the nicer of the two when that poor sheriff’s boy turned around and cussed them out until Derek dragged him away.

Stiles scoffed. “Throwing away unopened gifts is tacky!”

“Sending proposals to an engaged man is tacky.”

“Can you really blame them for trying? I’d be all over that if I wasn’t already.” Stiles ran a hand up Derek’s thigh to punctuate his point, while taking a casual sip of his coffee as if he were doing nothing of the sort.

“I can and I will. And at the very least, we’re sending it back.”

Stiles pouted, brushing Derek’s thigh with his thumb like it would change his mind. “But what if it’s a new frying pan? We’ve been needing one of those.”

“I’ll buy you a new frying pan. We’re sending it back.”

“We might as well get something out of all this harassment.”

“How about the satisfaction of saying no to every single one?” That was enough for Derek, but apparently not for Stiles, who blinked at him imploringly. Combined with his rumpled bedhead, it almost worked.

“But I can’t make breakfast in satisfaction.”

Derek leaned over to give him a compensatory kiss. “You can barely make breakfast in a frying pan.”

Stiles’ hand dropped from his thigh and he narrowed his eyes.

“Wow, okay, see if I ever make you breakfast ever again.” Derek grinned, but that just egged him on. “Actually no, I’m going to make you shitty breakfasts all the time! In the proposal pan!”

“We don’t know it’s a pan, and we’re not keeping it even if it is.”

“Oh come on! We deserve gifts after all this bullshit.” He gestured with his fork to their life in general, which also included the large hole in the drywall from a cursed statuette an angry pack had sent last month after Derek politely returned their proposal.

Derek refused to give in. He was not going to play nice in response to insult after insult.

“Stiles, why the hell would I want to keep gifts from packs I’ve never met who are trying to bribe me away from my fiance?”

Stiles pressed his lips together to try not to smile, but he failed. The whole being engaged thing was still new, they were both still a little giddy about it.

“We should send wedding invitations to all of them,” he said gleefully, and there was his petty streak. He’d been taking all these formal proposals surprisingly well and in good humor considering they were all trying to lure Derek into bringing Hale prestige to their packs.

“No. Then they’ll just send bigger gifts to try to change my mind.”

Stiles smirked. “And I‘m going to keep all of them.”

Derek rolled his eyes but gave Stiles the kiss he was puckering up for.

Tantalizing: 07

Originally posted by jikookfantasy

Tantalizing: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08
Ship: Jungkook | Reader
Description: Back in high school, you were nothing more than a nerd Jungkook wanted to deflower, to get a good fuck from. When he sees you at the club, though, things have changed drastically, and his dominance starts to teeter on the edge.
Warning: Dom!Jungkook, Intercourse, Oral, Blowjob, Hair Pulling, Tons of Fucking Angst, Masturbating, Exhibitionism, Overstimulation, Slight Degrading Names?
Word Count: 6,631

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Secrets (trans!peter)


For @chase-is-not-crash

PART TWO

********************

“Crap crap crap crap crap.”

Peter, in full Spider Man costume, dropped onto a roof and ducked behind an AC unit, holding his right arm tight to his chest.

It hurt, oh man it hurt and he could hardly draw a breath between the pain and his binder was too tight today and honestly he thought he might pass out if he couldn’t get laying down somewhere safe. But on this side of the city he was minimum twenty minutes of swinging, and close to an hour taxi ride from the safety of Aunt Mays apartment.

Too far.

He dropped his head back against the AC unit and tried to suck in a deep breath, tried not to scream when everything seized up. His arm, his chest…this was a horrible day.

And he was late for his injection, which made everything worse. He was supposed to take it last night, and had passed out exhausted before he remembered and then had ran out the door late to school and now here he was several hours later.

“What’s up, Spidey?” A deep voice startled him, but not as much as the red and black masked face that poked around the corner. “I’m sensing a damsel in distress.”

“Go away, Deadpool.” Peter flinched behind his mask at the ‘damsel’ comment. “I’m fine.”

Liar!” Deadpool crowed and moved to kneel in front of him. “Who knew our friendly neighborhood Spider Man lied like a fat kid stealing cake?”

“Please.” Peter bit out. “Please. Leave.”

“Hey.” Deadpool’s voice dropped, softened. “You’re not alright, alright? Plus you’re like twelve, and I just can’t leave a twelve year old superhero alone and hurting on the roof somewhere. Where’s your dad?”

“Who–”

“The Iron Giant.” Deadpool said impatiently. “I heard he looks out for you.”

“Don’t want him to know.” Peter was starting to feel a little lightheaded, lack of oxygen and the pain radiating up his arm making him dizzy. “And I’m not twelve.”

“Well you certainly aren’t eighteen.” Deadpool looked around, then seemed to come to a decision. “Well, I live close by, want to come to my place? We can get you patched up and–”

No!” Peter blurted. “I mean, no. No thank you.”

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Sweet Creature (M)

*I have no words*

Request: Can I get a Sub Jungkook smut where their on the couch and he cums in his pants while the reader is grinding on him on his lap and dirty talks to him in his ear??? Thanks☺️☺️☺️

Word Count: 6.9k words (heh heh)

Let me ruin you goddammit


Let’s get one thing straight. You never claimed to be a good person, never did charity work, never been the perfect daughter for your parents. And you sure as hell wasn’t someone’s little girlfriend.

You did what you want, who you wanted and slipped out of their sheets before they murmur good morning in your ear. You were a ‘no strings attached’ girl, making sure that you would never become someone’s puppet. Of course, you weren’t immune to the disease called ‘love’, your innocent high school days plagued with your naive mindset of finding the ‘one’. It still haunts you, one of the reasons your night doesn’t end with a shot of whisky and half a pack of beer. The only person who was willing to put up with you was your best friend, Jungkook.

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Dirty Dancing

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Hoseok (J-Hope)

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 5,242

Summary:  It’s the summer and all you want to be doing is hanging out with your friends. Your parents have other ideas and when you end up at a resort in the middle of the mountains, the only bright thing in sight is the dance instructor, Hoseok. If only said dance instructor didn’t seem to completely hate you.

Originally posted by jimins-bunss

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(s)he

This is that fic I was talking about the other day, the one I wasn’t sure I wanted to post. I ended up writing TWO similar but distinct fics (different POV, different ending) based on the premise of this fic because I just kept tinkering with it, so this is the second version. The first one… idk, maybe I’ll toss it or maybe I’ll post it later for the curious among you.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sterek high school AU, G, 1.7k words

Stiles thinks Scott is joking at first, mostly because he’s laughing so hard he can barely get the words out. “There’s a guy backstage asking for you by name. He’s got flowers.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and goes back to wiping the lipstick off his mouth. After four performances, he can get in and out of the dress and the wig in no time flat. He can even walk in heels without too much wobbling. But the lipstick? Bane of his existence. It still takes him a good five minutes of careful wiping and rubbing with petroleum jelly, and even then his mouth always has this odd orangish-coral tinge by the time he goes home for the night. By that point he’s usually too frustrated by the whole thing to even begin to bother with cleaning off the mascara.

Thank god this is closing night, and in a minute they can all go out for tacos and Stiles can set to work forgetting about lipstick for the rest of forever.

Scott’s still hovering at the door, anticipatory. “I think he likes you. Like, like-likes.”

“Ha ha,” Stiles says flatly. He tilts his head to the left and then to the right in front of the mirror, angling his face up into the lights. “Do you think I got it all?”

Scott gives him a careless glance. “Yeah, sure. Looks fine. But no, seriously, the girl who sells the tickets told me he’s shown up to every single performance.”

Scott isn’t joking. He’s laughing at Stiles (and okay, if their positions were reversed, Stiles would totally be laughing at Scott, too), but he isn’t joking. Fuck. Not even Stiles’ dad has come to every performance. 

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crumbling- h.s imagine

You let out a sigh as you glanced at the clock hung up on the wall. Joanne, your marriage counselor stared at you with sympathy in her eyes. She reached out from across the table in between the two of you and placed her hand on top of yours, “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m afraid our time is up.”

You looked down at your hands and shook your head. You let out a mumbled, “Thank you for your time” before you grabbed your purse and left her office. Joanne stared after you and let out a sigh herself. “Katy, grab my 1:00 appointment, please.” She called out to her assistant.

As you waited for your destination on the elevator, you pulled out your phone hoping to see something from Harry. When you were greeted with nothing, you pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes tightly. As you sat in your car, you pulled out your phone once more and dialed a number you’ve been familiar with for the past couple of weeks.  “Hey Jake. Yeah, I’m fine. I think I’ll grab the papers today.”

Harry let out a curse as he saw the bedroom light was still on when he pulled up in the driveway. He was hoping you were asleep so he didn’t have to listen to you complaining about how he should’ve been there today. Harry tried to be there today, really he did. But he had to approve his album cover, he needed to put some last minute touches on some songs; he was a busy man today. Harry ran his hands through his hair as he debated whether or not he should pick up some flowers, just to soften the blow. He shook his head. He had to face the consequences that were yet to come.  

One word that you would use to describe your marriage with Harry was crumbling. It was amazing the first few years. Harry made you feel loved and made sure you were cherished. You made sure you showed Harry nothing but continuos support and just as much love. When the band split up, it was hard for Harry. One Direction was like his baby, it made him the man he is today. You remember how upset Harry was once the news broke to the fans. You remember Harry telling you that this changed everything. You remained positive for him. You told him things were going to be okay and that this was just a bump in the road. You made sure you told him that his fans were forever and they’ll love him no matter what he decides.

When Harry decided to audition for a movie role, you were nothing but excited for him. You made sure he was well rested before his audition and you made sure you helped him read his lines. When he got the role, you were dying of happiness. When he had to leave to film, you, being the supportive wife you were,  travelled alongside him. You dropped everything just to see your husband pursuing a new passion of his.

When Harry decided to go to Jamaica to focus solely on his debut album, you agreed. You told him that if he felt this was the right decision then this was the right decision.

You tried being the supportive wife. You tried lifting Harry’s spirits when your own was down. You tried reaming positive and just being what Harry needed during these crucial times in his life.

But you couldn’t say the same was being done for you. There were times when Harry wasn’t there for you for special events in your life like going back home to see your family or being your date for your sister’s wedding. There were times where you had doubts in your marriage and you tried. You tried so badly to remain optimistic. You tried telling yourself that he was busy with his album, you tried telling yourself that he was filming a movie and that he couldn’t drop everything. You tried putting your emotions aside in hopes of Harry never finding out how sad you were.

But you can only bottle up something so much that it just explodes.

Harry wiped his face before he leaned back on the couch. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs before he asked, “Are you asking for a divorce?”

You quickly looked up. “No! Never! I would never ask for a divorce.” You made your way over to Harry and sat down on his lap. You stared into his beautiful eyes that held nothing but sadness and tears. You gently whispered, “Something just needs to change.”

After that, the two of you decided it was best to seek a marriage counselor. It was definitely a hard choice to make but the two of you decided that it was best to talk out whatever problems there were then really letting things escalate. And going to couples therapy was great at first. The two of you felt like with time, things might actually turn around.

Until Harry started missing sessions. It was always one excuse after another. You tried to be forgiving and you tried to make it seem ok that he was missing the meetings but your heart broke more and more each time he skipped. It sucked being in that office yourself. You hated the feeling of your therapist staring at you with sympathy. You hated being asked why did you think Harry decided to bail. You hated every single minute of being there and feeling like you were alone. You hated that you were the one that put all the effort into this marriage. You hated that you had to remain brave. You hated crying alone. You hated the thought of Harry no longer loving you. You hated every single minute of it.

You were staring at your reflection in your sanity mirror in your shared bedroom with Harry. You noticed all the bags under your eyes and how puffy they were with how much you cried tonight. You wondered, “How did I get here? How could something that once was so beautiful crumble into something so tragic?” As you were pondering your thoughts, in the reflection you saw the bedroom door open. Harry had an ashamed look on his face.

He closed the door behind him before he turned to you. “Y/N, love, I’m so sorry.” You continued to stare at Harry. You bit on your bottom lip as you drowned at the pathetic excuse he was coming up with. Your eyes glanced at your wedding ring that was sitting in a little jewelry dish next to you. You let out a little scoff at how ironic it seemed to you. Isn’t that ring supposed to represent happiness? Yet all you felt was despair.

Hesitatingly. Harry walked closer to you. He tried to decipher what was going in that beautiful mind of yours. “Love?”

Slowly, you turned around in your seat. Your eyes were staring at Harry’s shoes, afraid that if you looked up into his eyes that the words would never fall out of your mouth. “I want a divorce.” You whispered.

You said it so quietly and so gently that you were sure Harry didn’t hear you. But the gasp that fell out of his lips proved otherwise. Harry bent down so that he was looking up at you. He placed his hands on top of yours. “Love, no.”

You shook your head as you closed your eyes, trying so badly to not let out a sob. Harry’s eyes started to fill with tears of his own. “Y/N! Please! I’ll change! I’ll go to the meetings! We can go every fucking day! Please!”

You let out a shaky sigh as tears began to cascade down your cheeks. Where was this when you needed to hear it the most? You finally looked into Harry’s eyes and completely lost it. You hated yourself for the hurt you saw in his eyes. “I’m not happy anymore, Harry.”

Hearing you say that felt like a direct bullet to Harry’s heart. He winced as if he was in actual pain. Hearing you say that meant he was a failure of a husband. He shook his head quickly, as if he was trying to get the thought out of his head. “You’re just upset with me and I get it. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t mean it.”

You tried to defend your decision before Harry got up. He ran his hands through his hair. “We just need to sleep it off. You’re hurt, I’m hurt. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom, alright? We just need to sleep it off” Harry tried convincing himself. He bent down once more and placed a soft kiss on your lips before he walked out of your room.

You stared at the door before you wrapped your arms around yourself and let out the sob that was trying to read its way out.

That night was the quietest the house has ever been. Both you and Harry were laying in separate beds, wondering how your marriage got to this, while tears fled your eyes. Harry wanted to do nothing but hold you and to convince you that this was just another rough patch and that you guys were going to get through this. You wanted Harry to come to his senses when you said that you weren’t happy. You wanted him to realize that you’ve been trying for a very long time and that you couldn’t take it anymore.

The next morning, Harry walked downstairs and into the kitchen. You were sitting at the dining room table, a cup of tea in your hands. He noticed instantly how red your eyes were the puffiness of your cheeks. You looked up at Harry before you walked over to your purse that was on the counter. Harry was watching your every move intently, afraid to make a sound.

You pulled out the divorce papers before you looked up at Harry. You placed the papers down on the table before you walked past him and went back into your room. With shaky hands, Harry picked up the papers. He let out a sob and fell to the floor.

You were filing for a divorce.


out of everything i’ve written recently, i actually really enjoyed writing this! it’s been in my drafts for the longest time and i’m glad im finally sharing it! let me know what you guys thought!

you can find all my writing here

Ten years, too late

Bucky x Reader

Summary:“You can’t stop me from seeing my own daughter.” + “You lost the right to see her when you walked out of our lives ten years ago.”

Word Count: 2271

Warnings: angst, death (mention only)

A/N: so, this is my submission for ( @bladebarnes ) Blade’s 2k writing challenge, just gonna leave this here, before i go on my break!
i really don’t know how this messed up idea came to my mind, but i hope it’s something new bc i wanted to save this prompt from being a total cliche so, yeah :) also, I made a little change in the second sentence, hope you don’t mind

Main Masterlist

(*gif is not mine!)

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Min Yoongi, Library Services

Author: @kpopfanfictrash as part of Bangtan University - a series of ongoing one shots with @eradikeats-writes

Creative Content Contributors: @daegusoftboys  (her moodboards for the series are perfection)

Pairing: Reader / Yoongi

Rating: NC-17 (Explicit Sex, Light Voyeurism) 

Word Count: 7,364

Summary: When you accept the the offered research position at Bangtan University, you are well aware of your partner’s prestige. The only problem is - so is he.

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