one day i will be able to make coloring look good

UPDATED TRUMP DOCTOR LETTER

To Whom It May Concern:

A lot of people have expressed a desire for an update on President Donald J. Trump’s health since his inauguration. I have been the personal physician of President Donald J. Trump since 1980 and I am here to say that Mr. Trump’s health is absolutely better than ever.

Since being sworn in, Donald Trump has lost 50 pounds and gained 17 inches of height. He’s the longest president who has ever lived. His livers are both functioning flawlessly. His blood sets an all-time record for the state of New York for “most” and his blood pressure was rated “excellent” by seven different Fox News Twitter polls. He doesn’t even have one cholesterol.

I can say this unequivocally: Donald Trump has the most bones. Scientists estimate that he now has around 900 bones in his body and more are being discovered every day. Some of those bones have never been seen before. They allow him to be really good at presidential things like signing executive orders and making love nightly to his wife who wants him to.

Mr. Trump’s test results have been astonishingly excellent. He actually has a blood type we’ve never seen before: “All.” It’s both the universal donor and universal recipient, and sprinkling it on your penis makes your penis bigger. Mr. Trump’s blood is gorgeous. It has a rich color that’s hard to describe, but if I had to put it into words, I might call it “red.”

President Donald Trump has no family history of cancer, diabetes, or death. The president’s family members are immortal beings that walk the earth without end, craving the sweet release of death that will never come unless they make a deal with a cool witch. Donald Trump will never die, he will just keep growing vertically forever until he lives in space. It’s really astonishing.

His physical strength is extraordinary. He can lift as much as a mother whose child is trapped under a car, but he’s more attractive than that mother and he hasn’t let himself go like she has. Have you seen the way she dresses lately? The hypothetical mother in this simile is a total chunk. 4 at best. As the famous doctor Hippocrates once said, “Would not hit.”

Since the Inauguration, Mr. Trump has kept an extremely active lifestyle. He starts every morning by walking straight up into the sky and then walking down again. He also visits me regularly for checkups. Mr. Trump doesn’t let me touch him because of gay, so I just eyeball it and give him a once over. I can usually tell just by looking how much blood is in him that day or which liver has taken the lead, so it’s not a super intensive process.

Mr. Trump is not only the healthiest president that has ever served, but also the most handsome. I usually want to kiss President Trump when I see him, but I would never break the doctor-patient trust, so instead I kiss the portrait of him I drew on my little note pad. There have been no presidents that even come close to President Trump in terms of overall health and hotness. Franklin Pierce was pretty hot, but his body wasn’t great. James Garfield was more cute than hot. President Trump is the total package. I know this because of my stethoscope.

Just to give a little more background on me, I’ve been a doctor for years. I got into medicine the same way a lot of doctors do: I once took an unmarked pill that I found under a toilet in a public restroom, and the next thing I knew, I was blacked out doing surgery on a man on a Benihana table with the big knives they got over there. I flipped this guy’s appendix right into my hat. And that’s when I caught the bug, for surgery and for tetanus!

Now, I want to address some of the slanderous things that have been said about me. It’s just like these coastal elites to say I’m not qualified as a physician. They think you need fancy things, like a diploma from Harvard Med School or a diploma from a med school or a GED or a car or medicine or clean hands. You don’t need those to be a doctor! All you need is the right attitude and a good sense of humor and to be Jewish and a blank death certificate just in case!

This is America. We’re not “fancy” here. You’re supposed to be able to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and put a bunch of clamps in a guy and see what tubes you can clamp up without making him sleep forever. My grandfather was a blue-collar worker, and so was my father. I am a red-collar worker because my collar is always covered in spurting blood. I may not know art or science or what a “lung” is, but I do know that I love America and am a lung-doctor!

Because of my love of America and Donald Trump, it is an honor to be his physician. Donald Trump could teach us all a thing or two about health. Not only is he the healthiest human ever, but also the healthiest dog, house and Faberge Egg. I wish him luck as he continues on his endless journey.

Love,

“Doctor” Harold N. Bornstein, M.D. (Mostly Doctor)

Lipstick

(Also posted on AO3)

Draco found the tube under his bed. He knew it was the lipstick Pansy had lost and had been bitching about for days to anyone within earshot. He also knew that she had owl ordered a new one although, that wasn’t why he didn’t give it back.

He waited until everyone was in the great hall for dinner, spell locking the bathroom door behind him before he even dared to take the lipstick from his pocket. He opened it carefully, setting the outer tube on the ceramic counter with a soft click that seemed to fill the empty room. He twisted the tube and the deep red lipstick rose, feeling accusing just by being exposed to the air, in his hands, alone in this room.

A single faint tremor went through his hand. If his friends, if his family ever found out- He couldn’t bear the thought. But it was just curiosity, nothing more. Once he had done it, he would just leave the lipstick in the common room somewhere and be done with it. It was just once.

Draco bit his bottom lip thoughtfully and then lean forward. He hastily dried his lip with his thumb and then carefully traced his bottom lip, leaving pale red in its wake. He blinked, his heart rate picking up as he carefully went over his lip until the color was as deep and rich as the lipstick itself. He was a little too hasty on his upper lip and had to use some tissue to clean up the line until it was perfect.

He pressed his lips together and let them go. It was like looking at someone else. He had never paid much attention to his lips before except in passing.  They had a nice shape and the lipstick made them seem fuller and bigger. Draco leaned back from the mirror, shivering when he took in all of himself. The red was so stark against his pale skin, stark and bold. His cheeks were flushing with excitement and nerves.

He liked it. He liked everything about it.

Keep reading

The 2 Elements of an ORIGINAL STORY IDEA

If you’ve been doing this writing thing for more than one day, you’ve likely experienced the following worry: 

“What if my story idea ISN’T ORIGINAL?”

And if my experience is any indication, things spiraled downwards from there: “What if it’s cliche? What if there’s nothing new here?! It IS cliche. It ISN’T original. I’m a failure! ALL MY WRITING NEEDS TO BURN!”

Calm yourself. There’s a way to make sure that your story concept is unique.  

First, what IS a story concept? It’s the initial idea that made you want to write the thing. It’s the “What If” question that starts everything off. Later, it will be the promise that hooks the reader or audience, and makes them want to experience the story. 

So for example: What if Cinderella was a cyborg? What if a rat wanted to be a french chef? What if a fish had to venture across the ocean to find his son who’s captive in a dentist’s office aquarium?   

All great concepts. All of which seem to be comprised of two elements: something that we already know about, a set up that establishes expectations, and then something contrasting and surprising, which creates irony or surprise.  
So the first element of a successful story concept is FAMILIARITY. 

Establishing expectations? Something we already know about? Familiarity?! That sounds like the definition of UNorginal. 

Hear me out. 

What do readers do when foraging for a new novel at the bookstore? Certain readers gravitate to certain shelves. Some go to mysteries, some to crime, a whole lot to romance, and the rest to the other genres that are too numerous to list.

 Why is this? Because genres give them a pretty good idea about what they’re going to get. Readers already know the conventions of the genre. They’ve already put in the work of learning, accepting, and enjoying these conventions. 

Genres give both reader and writer something to go on right away. For the reader, genres are expectations for story events, setting, character, and more, which are automatically enjoyable to them. For a writer, it’s a set of expectations which can be flipped to create something remarkable and unique.  

It’s like telling a joke. Without a setup, there can’t be a punchline. 

The genres are the setup, the individual twist the author puts on that genre is the punchline. Or in other words, readers truly do want the same thing –only different.  

To illustrate this, let’s take a look at one of the most successful stories of all time.

With space ships, interplanetary travel, sentient robots, and aliens running amok, Star Wars LOOKS to be the kind of story that requires the audience to expend lots of mental energy to comprehend and believe. At first glance, it seems that imaginations are going to have to stretch a great deal, and there won’t be anything familiar to ground us – this SEEMS like an uncomfortably new, unwelcoming world. But I doubt if anyone has ever felt uncomfortable or unwelcome while watching Star Wars. And the reason for this can be summed up with one ellipsis-ended sentence:

Suddenly, all is clear. This isn’t the hard-to-imagine future, this is the PAST. We’re not being asked to imagine and believe a totally new world; we’re being taken to the realm of “far, far away”, a place we’ve known since childhood. Isn’t “a long time ago” just another way of saying “once upon a time”? Yes, it is, so we know where we are now. We are in a fairy tale, a myth.  

The familiarity of fairy tales sets us at ease and sets our expectations in place. Expectations which Star Wars meets with flying colors: A farmboy who must become a knight. A princess imploring for aide. A mystical wise-old-man mentor. Sword fights between good and evil. A magic that operates like religion. A dark lord and a dark side. Star Wars was built upon something we already know, something timeless, something we’ve always enjoyed. 

And once those well-known expectations were set, Star Wars was free to add the unexpected and create one of those most memorable story worlds ever.
Think of a story you love, and you’ll probably be able to identify the something-already-known aspect of it.  

How about Harry Potter? 

When we hear “boarding school”, mental images and probabilities are instantly conjured in our minds. We picture classrooms, dormitories, a campus with very old buildings, kids in uniforms, a giant place for meals, living through a schoolyear with a bunch of kids your age, etc. Even if we don’t know much about boarding school, we all know what regular school is like (even us homeschoolers over here *waves*) and our expectations for that are nearly identical from person to person.  

So what does this prove?

It proves that one half of your story’s concept must be grounded in something we already know, and know well. These are the expectations you are going to establish for your reader, before the second element of your concept upends everything and creates something wholly unique. 

You need FAMILIARITY. You need to ground your concept in something WELL-KNOWN. Only then will you be able to create something ORIGINAL. 

Where can familiarity be found?  

1. Genre Conventions 

2. Occupations 

3. Well-known stories  

The possibilities are not limited to these categories, of course. Familiar subjects can be found within many other areas. However, Familiar elements seem to share certain qualities … 

Provides a rough timeline

⦁ Conjures imagery

⦁ Sets expectations for events, characters, opposition, etc

⦁ Has natural potential for conflict 

⦁ Serves as a goal-oriented backdrop for the plot

To see how this works, let’s look at Harry Potter again: 

Familiarity: Going to boarding school. (An occupation)

Timeline: A school year (which Voldy always lets Harry complete before trying to kill him again, bless him.)

Story Expectations: When we hear “school”, we know what we’re going to get.

Imagery: Boarding school conjures tons of possibilities. 

Conflict Potential: It’s a thousand kids living in one castle with a handful of adults – there’s going to be conflict. 

Goal-Oriented: School is inherently goal directed. You want to graduate. And in the case of boarding school, you want to win the house cup. 

But of course, this familiar environment is only HALF of the concept for Harry Potter. The other half, of course, is WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY. Which brings us to the 2nd element of a successful story concept, which will be the subject of the next post.

The Kendall Jenner x Pepsi Ad Made Me Want To Vomit

Before you do anything else watch this if you haven’t seen it already: 

Did you watch it? I hard a hard time making it through the entire spot myself without a few grimaces, “wtf were they thinking” faces and a “i can’t believe this shit” to a coworker. 

Let’s look at a few scenes to examine why this isn’t just the worst ad of all time but an ad that is insensitive, offensive and completely thoughtless. 

1.) Co-opting a movement 

Love

Join the conversation

Peace

These are all very nice sentiments and shit we should strive for every single day but they aren’t the typical signs you see at real protests. The protests where people are putting their safety in danger because they’re afraid they might walk outside with a hoody on and get shot, or that their family won’t be able to return to America if they board a plane to see their family in their native country are the images of protest people actually experience. The protestors certainly not as happy as the perfectly casted multi-racial group of actors walking down this very well lit street with no menacing or threatening police officers present any step of the way. Hell, they even found time to place pretty people to eat next to the protests while it was happening. The police aren’t in riot gear, apparently seeing no threat from this massive group of protesters singing and dancing their way towards them. 

Now look, I work in advertising for big brands™.  I know major corporations are risk averse and don’t want to alienate potential consumers who don’t share in what should be non-controversial views like equality and freedom of expression. But they are. But that’s why no one has ever asked a corporation to make a fucking resistance commercial. If you aren’t going to be on the ground with organizers and protesters, or helping to pay legal funds for those wrongly incarcerated or even at the very fucking least, providing food and beverages to people who are taking hours at a time out to speak out on something they believe in, then don’t use a movement for your own commercial gain. 

2- Tropes, (Un)intentional Racism, More Tropes 

All black people are good for in commercials are for hip hoppity dancing, tattoos, giving dap and staring lustfully at white women. 

All the people of color in this ad are mostly used to check boxes provide accent color to what is an otherwise whitewashed scene. 

This is an especially embarrassing lack of effort in representation when one considers the context in which the subjects are being portrayed. 

3- Our White Savior 

Ohhhh boy what in the actual fuck?!!?!

Another white woman swoops in to save the day. I wish Pepsi had Melania Trump’s number so that I can get past a few of the issues currently concerning me. 

I would’ve had a problem with this closing scene if it was from just about anyone but we’ll get to the actual ending in a bit. The fact that it’s a fucking Kardashian Jenner – the physical embodiment of wealth, entitlement and privilege in America – shifts this ad from just terrible advertising toward the realm of parody, absurdity and offensiveness. 

Do you remember the protests in Baton Rouge after Alton Sterling was gunned down by police officers? 

This is the lasting image of those protests. Ieshia Evans is walking up to a group of white police officers dressed like they’re ready to confront ground troops in Northern Iraq, and able at a moment’s notice to gun her down. 

The ending of this thing is even more absurd. Once Jenner hands the very peaceful policeman the can of Pepsi, the crowd goes crazy, like they were all Tyrone Biggums and it was time for the free crack giveaway. 

If I knew all I had to do to avoid being shot by the police while black was carry a Pepsi around with me, I would’ve been doing it this entire time. 

Red

I am FINALLY done with this. Hope you guys enjoy it, please let me know if you do, your comments are very much appreciated. Lots of love, B xx

Originally posted by hotsauceharry

Red.

It’s all he can see when he looks at you. It’s the color that paints your lips and it’s the only thing he’s been able to think about all night long.

When he picked you up earlier tonight, on your way to a dinner with a group of friends, his eyes had zoomed in on your lips the second you opened the car door to greet him - while you stepped inside and leaned in to say hello, placing a chaste and pert kiss on his cheek, his eyes followed your lips as you came closer.

“What color is that? Crimson? Bright red?” Is what he thinks, the shades of it swirling in his mind. He doesn’t know and he’s tempted to ask you but to do that was to show he’s been paying more attention to you than he’s got the right to and maybe it’d give you the wrong impression - he’s not interested in your lipstick but more on the way the color makes your lips look full and incredibly inviting.

Biting onto his bottom lip after greeting you quickly, his eyes fleet to his rear view mirror, spotting the patch of skin close to his jaw where you had placed your kiss - a lipstick mark remains, the shape of your lips stamped onto his skin in a bright shade of red.

The sight gave him goose bumps and he couldn’t explain why, but when you leaned forward on his front seat, the visor pulled down so you could look in the mirror and make sure your lipstick was not smudged, Harry felt his stomach sink - images of you on your knees, eyes hazy and lips swollen while you suck on his cock with greedy, swollen and red painted lips, leaving a stain on his length, invaded his mind without his permission and he feels his cock twitch in his pants, heat rising underneath his skin.

Keep reading

Auction AU Part 2


Here’s the first part  ! I recommend you read it before this part, or else it won’t make much sense.

Sorry this took like, ten million years. Thanks to everyone who messaged me and said they liked the first part, it always made my day <3 

————

    The relief only lasted so long once he realized that yes, no more old-leopard-print lady (thank god), but still there’s a date with someone. A stranger.

    Jack’s barely held decent conversations with his teammates, how would a date with a stranger work?

    It wouldn’t. No way.

   Feeling like he’d just survived a brutal game, Jack took a few seconds to gather himself. He wiped the condensation from his forehead (he really hoped no one had noticed), slowed his breathing, let his jaw unclench. Once his fingers became steady enough he fixed the cuffs of his uncomfortably hot suit.

   “Fuck it,” He shucked the jacket off entirely. It felt good until he lifted his arms- “Ugh.”

   Pit stains.

   For a moment he struggled with what to do: If I wear the jacket I’m uncomfortable and sweating more, but if I don’t people can see the sweat and thats embarrassing and-

   “Jack!” Someone from management tapped his shoulder, “This way, the kid is waiting on stage right.” She gave him a brief once-over, “Put on the jacket.”

    With a somewhat relieved nod, he slipped the jacket back on and wished for a calmer heart-beat.

     The wish didn’t come true, of course. It rarely did.

    They approached the stairs leading off the stage.

    This kid must like you. They bid on you. They spent money for a date-thing-whatever with you. Just smile. Act like a normal-

   “Hi!”

   -person.

   “Uh, hi.”

Keep reading

Sometime in the future...

…when Dex realizes he’s not poor anymore.

“can we get a headboard, too?”

Dex hated that voice. It was a voice he hadn’t heard come out of his mouth in a long time, since before him and Nursey got married, before they graduated, before he started seeing a therapist. It was a voice that said, ’a no would break me’ underneath the real words of his question.

It was how he used to ask for hugs, and how he asked, three months into their fuck-buddy relationship, for Nusey to please stay the night, just once, nobody ever stays.

Nursey gave him a long, appraising look, but Dex knew he wouldn’t ask why, all of a sudden, Dex sounded so unsure of himself. Just like Dex knew, eventually, he’d tell Nursey why something so silly as a headboard was so important to him.

He gave a small smile instead, kissed Dex’s cheek, and said, “That’s chill.”

They got out of their truck, a purchase that Nursey made without Dex because he knew his husband could never justify the price to himself, even though they could afford it a hundred times over. Between Dex’s NHL salary and Nursey and Lardo’s line of children’s books, there wasn’t really anything they couldn’t afford.

Which is why Dex hated how small and broken his voice sounded when he asked if they could buy a headboard.

With the new contract Dex signed, finally featuring a no trade clause, they decided to buy a house. Nursey went all out; he spent weeks touring places, picking out furniture, and giving Dex the silent treatment (apparently ‘whatever you want’ isn’t the right answer). The only thing left was a new mattress.

They saved it specifically for a week when Dex didn’t have any scheduling conflicts. He tried to tell Nursey that it was fine, he could go ahead and buy one without Dex there, but he refused, insisting that a mattress was an individual experience, both of them had to agree.

They both knew that, in the end, Dex wouldn’t have an opinion. A bed was a bed to him, and any bed was better than no bed. It felt nice to have a full day with his husband, though.

They stood in front of a huge mattress store, and for some reason, Dex felt uncertain. There was something about this, buying a bed, that made everything real to him. He was an adult. He was well off financially. And he was about to walk into a store hand in hand with his husband. And he was happy.

He wasn’t the angry kid from Maine, anymore.

A saleswoman nearly a foot shorter than the couple (call me Cici!) dragged them all over the store, practically pushing them down on mattresses and asking about their firmness. She asked about hteir opinon on memory foam versus tempurpedic, about fabrics and springs and coils and all sorts of questions Nursey has answers for that Dex can’t make heads or tails of.

He zones out a bit, but jumps back into the conversation when the topic of temperature comes up (so, are you two warm blooded or do you use a lot of blankets at night?). He had no idea that they made some mattresses cooler than others, but yes they wanted to try those out, because his husband is a furnace and the three stupid cats Nursey snuck home were like little fuzzy ovens.

So, they go to the other side of the store and try out hybrids (of what, Dex really couldn’t say). Without even trying it out, Nursey pointed at one of the set-ups and declared, “it’s going to be this one.” Dex had to admit that it was pretty comfortable. He didn’t feel like he was sinking into the mattress, which was nice.

Nursey clamored on top, cuddling into Dex’s side with a smug grin. “Told you it was this one.”

Still grinning, Nursey asked Cici, “Can you show us some headboard options?”

There was an entire room of them. Bed frames and headboards and footboards. Big quilted ones that Dex thought would go great in his baby sister’s princess room, studded leather ones, wrought iron frames that looked a little too bondage for Dex’s comfort.

Dex wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but  Cici told them quietly that she would give them a few minutes to look around, even though she had been attached at to their side for the hour they had been in the store.

They wandered around, looking at all the choices. Dex knew he held Nursey’s hand a little too hard, but Nursey didn’t say anything. He let Dex take the lead, inputting his opinion but never tryng to influence Dex, never pushing him to talk about it.

They made two circuits of the room before stopping (for the second time) in front of a simple padded headboard. It wasn’t anything fancy, just smooth, cream colored fabric. Dex ran a finger over the display. It was softer than it looked.

“I don’t understand headboards. Or footboards. They’re totally pointless.”

In the past, that may have been an invitation for Nursey to chirp Dex, to ask what the hell they were doing buying one if Dex thought it was pointless. But after so many years together, Nursey knew Dex needed to talk it out, not have a conversation.

“Did you know that before I went to Samwell, I never slept in a real bed?”

“I didn’t, babe.”

Dex never took his eyes off the headboard. “For a while I had a matress thrown on the floor in me and Adam’s room, but then I gave it to Hannah and I started sleeping on some sleeping bags on the floor. I told myself it was like camping. Even when I imagined my house, I never imagined a having a real bed. What’s the piont of buying something that’s totally pointless? It’s just a waste of money.”

Nursey ran a warm hand up and down Dex’s back. Dex rarely talked about his childhood. It was one of the only things they still faught about sometimes: Nursey taking their money for granted and Dex not being able to accept that he can spend money when he wants to.

“But we can buy this. We can buy something that’s totally pointless, just because I want it.”

It wouldn’t match the room, even a little bit. The whole house was stark greys and bright whites, accents of bright colors. The cream fabric would stick out like a sore thumb. It was meant for a softer house. There was something about it that Dex like, though. He couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, but he loved it.

“What do you think?”

Nursey didn’t bother to look away from Dex when he answered. “I think it’s great, babe. It’ll look good in the bedroom.”

Dex gave him a hard look. “really.”

“Okay, no. but if you like it, then I couldn’t care less.”

And just like that,they bought it. And later that night, in their brand new bed, in their house (their house, not a house they were renting), Dex slept better than he could ever remember sleeping.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴀʙʏ sᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ!


      PREGNANCY -

❝ We’re going to be parents! ❞
❝ Did you feel him/her/them kick!? ❞
❝ Do you want to feel the baby? ❞
❝ I’m pregnant…and it’s yours. ❞
❝ Do you think I’ll make a good mother/father? ❞
❝ What are you hoping for? ❞
❝ I feel so nauseous today… ❞
❝ What should we name him/her/them? ❞
❝ How many diapers do you think we’ll need? ❞
❝ You’re crying over a puppy? ❞
❝ Is just strawberry okay? They didn’t have strawberries and cream. ❞
❝ I’ve read this book four times I’m basically an expert by now. ❞
❝ Boy or girl? ❞
❝ Wait, do we have everything on this list I found? ❞
❝ Can you put the crib together? I’m so tired. ❞
❝ This kid can come out anytime it’s ready. ❞      
❝ You’re glowing. ❞
❝ How far along are you? ❞
❝ Please don’t freak out…but I’m pregnant. I SAID DON’T FREAK OUT. ❞
❝ Hospital. Now! ❞
❝ I think that was a contraction… ❞
❝ The due date’s not until next week! ❞

     NEW BABY -

❝ S/He’s your kid before five in the morning. ❞
❝ We need to go on a diaper run again. ❞
❝ We’re out of formula–where’s the other can!? ❞
❝ Ugh, s/he spit up on my good shirt! ❞
❝ S/he won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do. ❞        
❝ Please take him/her, I’m going to go crazy with the screaming. ❞
❝ Is it even possible for a baby to scream so much!? ❞
❝ Should they be breathing like that? ❞
❝ I need to go check on the baby. ❞    
❝ If you never put him/her down you’ll spoil him/her. ❞
❝ Daddy/Mommy’s little girl/boy! ❞
❝ Good morning, little spawn of Satan! ❞
❝ Shhh, they’re finally asleep.  ❞    
❝ Dammit, I just got them to sleep! ❞
❝ Be careful, s/he’s a hair puller…. ❞
❝ Where’s the pacifier!? ❞
❝ I can’t find his/her blanket, please help me. ❞    
❝ I’ve been up since four this morning, it’s your turn. ❞
❝ I found you and the baby sleeping in the recliner at six am and it was so precious. ❞
❝ Stroller, diaper bag, playpen, blanket, bottles, what else do we need before we go to your parents? ❞
❝ A babysitter!? Are you insane!? ❞    
❝ You’re going to spoil them. ❞    
❝ We can’t go out with the baby, that’s just asking for trouble. ❞
❝ Baby’s awake… ❞
❝ S/he’s so precious…. ❞
❝ This is our son/daughter…. ❞
❝ We make damn beautiful babies. ❞
❝ Look at his/her little feet… ❞
❝ S/he has your eyes. ❞
❝ Do not dress him/her in that! ❞    
❝ Be careful with him/her! ❞
❝ Did you remember to pack his/her toy? ❞
❝ His/her first tooth came in today. Already bit me.❞
❝ Did you hear that? That was a cough.❞           

        CHILDREN -

❝ The kids won’t stop fighting. ❞
❝ We should have another. ❞
❝ Stop giving them dessert before dinner! ❞
❝ You’re going to spoil them rotten… ❞
❝ You need to learn not to fall for the puppy dog eyes.  ❞
❝ I just love them so much!? ❞    
❝ How are we going to break the news to them that they’re getting a brother/sister? ❞
❝ Their screaming woke the baby… ❞    
❝ I’m a horrible mother/father… ❞
❝ How can you make the baby hush and I can’t? ❞
❝ Was that a word!? ❞
❝ His/her first word better not be a damn cuss word! ❞    
❝ You look exhausted. ❞
❝ First steps! First steps! ❞
❝ Watch, s/he can roll over now! ❞
❝ I don’t want anyone else watching our baby/children. ❞    
❝ They totally wanted to build the pillow fort, not me. ❞
❝ Can you manage dropping them off? ❞
❝ Damn terrible twos, right? ❞
❝ How did they outgrow their clothes so fast!? ❞   
❝ I think we make damn good parents. ❞
❝ Why are both you and the baby crying? ❞
❝ Here, I’ll watch him/her, you go relax. ❞
❝ I haven’t been able to put her/him down all morning/day/night. ❞    
❝ S/he doesn’t want me, s/he wants you! ❞
❝ S/he just ran into the coffee table, don’t worry. ❞
❝ Stop fighting with me in front of the kid/s! ❞
❝ We shouldn’t have dressed the twins in matching outfits… ❞    
❝ Can I hold him/her? ❞
❝ S/he has separation anxiety because you never put them down! ❞
❝ My mother always hoped my kids would end up like me…I’m so sorry. ❞
❝ I wouldn’t let them do ____, so they started crying. ❞  
❝ Oh, s/he’s just a little angel! ❞
❝ Hello, little one! ❞
❝ I can babysit if you’d like. ❞
❝ Guess who broke your favorite ____. ❞  
❝ Finally got him/her/them to sleep. ❞
❝ It’s your turn to put him/her/them to bed. ❞
❝ I hate bath time. ❞
❝ Can you help me with the kids for five goddamn minutes!? ❞
 
❝ I think ____ is jealous of the baby. ❞
❝ ___ just hit ___, can you do something!? ❞
❝ Is locking kids in the basement against the law!? ❞
❝ They’re cute when they’re quiet. ❞
❝ Maybe taking them to the park will let out all their energy. ❞
❝ _____ colored on the walls today… ❞
❝ Look at the mess they made again… ❞      
                     

It'll Last Longer (Bucky Barnes x Reader) One-Shot

It’ll Last Longer: After being gifted a Polaroid camera, Bucky becomes infatuated with taking pictures. Reader finds out that Bucky likes to take pictures of her, leading them to discovering Bucky’s camera kink.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minor kink shaming. Minior humiliation. Come play. Camera kink. Extremely NSFW!



When Steve brought Bucky to the tower for the first time, you were curious about him. He was a bit reclusive. When you held out your hand for him to shake, he stared at it as if it were some kind of deadly insect. The man hardly looked at you more than twice after that. Steve assured you that Bucky did like you, it was just going to take some time for him to get used to being around females.

“He hasn’t seen a dame that wasn’t running for their life since back in the day,” he explained.

You understood completely, figuring if you just gave the poor guy some distance, he’d come around at some point. It was only the first day, so it was no big deal. You made sure to give him a smile each time you saw him and even exchanged good mornings at breakfast. It took a while, but he began coming out of his shell bit by bit.

However, nine months into his stay at the tower, Bucky still wasn’t ready to go on missions yet.

There were days when he was stuck at the tower by himself with absolutely nothing to do. He watched movies on Netflix, worked out in the magnificent gym, and even tried drawing like Steve did. But the boredom was becoming unbearable. That’s when Steve took it upon himself to get his best friend a hobby.

“What is this?” Bucky asks, curiously fiddling with the device in his hands.

“It’s a camera. Y/N used to have one growing up, so I figured you’d like it.”

Steve took the camera from his friend’s hands and turned it towards him. After a bright flash, the mechanical sound of the picture printing made Bucky’s eyes widen with shock. They watched as the small Polaroid picture ejected from the camera.

“Holy shit!” he gawked as he stared down at the camera.

“Language, Buck.” Steve laughed and tossed the camera back to him.


The camera became Bucky’s new obsession.

He began snapping pictures of small things at first. He got ones of the birds as they flew over the roof of the tower, he got some of Steve as he polished his shield in the armory, and he even managed to get some of Tony’s suits in his lab.

As time went on, and he came out of his shell bit by bit, he began taking pictures of the team (with their permission of course.).

Everyone had gotten used to the small mechanical sounds of his Polaroid camera. He had a small collection of his team mates covering the walls of his room.

The ones of Sam consisted of the man doing everyday things like playing video games or singing along to Marvin Gaye. His favorite was the one he snapped of him wearing his wings right before a mission. His back was turned, the lighting casting a shadow over the mechanical wings, making it look like it belonged in some action movie poster.

The ones of Nat were mostly of her outside. He thought the sun made her hair look fiery and complimented her skin perfectly. He got some of her lounging by the pool as she read a book. Some were of her doing yoga on one of the mats by a large window in the gym. His favorite was the one he took a couple weeks ago; she and Steve were at the park and he managed to catch a photo of them kissing secretively. Bucky still smiles every time he sees it.

The ones of Clint consist of the archer doing the dorkiest things. There were far too many ones of him aiming one of his arrows at one of the team members, making silly faces behind their backs. There was some of him playing guitar hero dramatically and even one of him trying to balance a vast amount of graham crackers on his forehead; that one was Bucky’s personal favorite.

The ones he got of Wanda, usually Vision was there with her, and so he just combined the two of theirs into one section in his room. Most of their pictures consisted of them cooking in the kitchen (Vision finally learned how to properly make paprika!) with the two covered in flour and laughing. There was some of Vision by himself, putting together the many puzzles he owned or helping Tony in the lab. The ones of Wanda consisted of the woman sculpting clay with her powers (which became a hobby of her own.) and covered in various colors of paint from head to toe.

Somehow, he was able to get some selfies from Thor when he came down from Asgard. He got some of the demi god placing his hammer on Steve’s shield with Steve struggling underneath it. His favorite was the one he got of him calling Heimdall to open the portal.

The ones of Tony were almost always from afar. He still wasn’t comfortable with the man just yet, but that didn’t stop him from snapping a few pics of him as he tinkered away in his garage. And he has one of the men secretly playing the grand piano in his basement. He made sure to hide that one.

Out of all the pictures he had in his room, he found that the ones of you took up the most space. And for a totally valid reason. Bucky would take it to the grave if he had to.

He was a little bit obsessed with you. Just a little bit.

Some of the pictures of you consisted of you working out. He found you the most beautiful when you simply weren’t trying to be. Your eyebrows were drawn together in focus, your hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, and you were completely unaware of your natural beauty. The other half were of you in your combat suit before a mission. There was something about your pre-mission aura that made you look amazing. You were standing next to Steve during a mission briefing, your eyes were focused on the paper in front of you. There were some of you doing your make up in the mirror of your bedroom, your hair in rollers as you applied a coat of mascara that you really didn’t need.

On top of all that, Bucky Barnes had a secret that nobody knew. He had an entire separate collection of Polaroids of you hidden in a small box underneath his bed and they were for his own eyes only. Steve had been the only one to notice that majority of the pictures Bucky took of you were ones in which you were wearing less clothing than usual. He nearly had a heart attack when the blond brought it up one day. But being the pure, wholesome soul Steve was, Bucky was able to argue that the pictures were taken in the summertime.

In the hidden box, there were various photos.

Some were of you in the swimming pool, wearing your bikini. The first picture was your breasts, he didn’t even bother to get your face into the shot. It was the first day of summer and it was your day off. The next picture was taken seconds later, but the shot was of your ass as you reached for the beer Nat was handing you. The material of the bottoms hugged around your curves amazingly, how could he not snap a picture?

The third photo was the main source of Bucky’s masturbating material, as it was a photo of you lying on one of the lounge chairs. The position Bucky was in gave him a perfect view of your clothed crotch. Your feet were planted on the chair, giving him the opportunity to snap the picture and slip it into his back pocket.

There was a second group of pictures from the one time the power went out during a thunderstorm, causing everything to shut down, even the water. Luckily for him, you were in the middle of a shower and had to step out into the common room wearing only a towel. He just HAD to get a picture of that. There were only two: One of you sitting on one of the stools. He purposely chose to sit on the couch to get a view of your slightly open legs, but alas, you crossed them as soon as he sat. The second one was of you crossing your arms over your chest, unknowingly causing your breasts to push up.

The third stack was taken during a Halloween party that Tony was throwing. You decided to come dressed up a Little Red Riding Hood, wearing a rather revealing corset and skirt that showed off your legs. The entire night, Bucky stealthily followed you around, snapping picture after picture of you. There were some that he was able to get up your skirt as you re crossed your legs or bent over. He got some of your breasts as you leaned over the pool table and some of your mouth as you bit into one of the candy apples Wanda made. Steve couldn’t figure out why Bucky was grinning like an idiot as he walked back to his room after the party. To sum it up, Bucky had a very good time in his room that night.

There was the downside of it all, though.

Bucky was taking inappropriate pictures of you without your permission. When it all came down to it, he was technically a peeping tom. It was wrong, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop, not matter how perverted it was. It was almost like an addiction. He longed to finally get a picture of you completely exposed and vulnerable. It was his biggest fantasy.

But honestly, he would be terrified if you somehow ever found out about his little perverted game.


Tony was perhaps the dumbest smart person you’ve ever known.

One of the greatest minds in the twenty first century, somehow managed to ‘accidentally’ cause a malfunction in one of his suits, causing it to explode in his workshop. The same workshop that was right next to the giant air conditioning unit, causing the entire tower’s air conditioning to go out in the middle of July.

You were in the common area, trying to read one of your beloved Harry Potter books, despite the scorching heat coming from outside. You tried to go swimming, but that only made it worse, hence the sun was still directly beaming on you. Giving up, you toweled off and plopped onto the couch, flipping through your book.

After a while of flipping through the book, you got the sudden feeling of someone watching you. It was probably nothing, as you were the only person on the floor. You focused back on the words of your book, scanning the paragraph for the place you left off.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it never went away. In fact, it only got stronger. Glancing up from your book, you caught the sight of Bucky Barnes watching you intently from the small kitchen area. The way he was positioned, the average person wouldn’t have been able to spot him, but you had grown used to his stealth.

Setting your book down, you gave him a smile. How long had he been there? Bucky was a pretty cool guy from your encounters, but this was creeping you out a bit. He blinked a few times, before pretending to do something. Unsure of how else to handle the situation, you went back to your book, ignoring the intense gaze from the kitchen.

After finishing your book, you closed it and rolled onto your back. The bikini top you wore tightened around your chest, but you couldn’t find yourself to care the slightest bit. You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You really, really, missed the air conditioning.

For the second time that day, you felt the feeling of being watched creep its way into your mind. The sound of footsteps alerted you that you weren’t alone in the living room any more.

“Why don’t you take a picture, Barnes?” you tease, smirking. “It’ll last longer.”

Turning your head to the side, you caught the sight of Bucky peering down at you from behind the couch. In his hand was the small Polaroid camera you’d seen quite a bit. Trailing your eyes down his body, you noticed how handsome he was. Those darn super soldiers…

“I already have some of you,” his voice is soft, yet reluctant. Each one of his words were chosen carefully, you could sense it. “You’re just…very photogenic. I can’t help but admire.”

You’ve been called a lot of things by past boyfriends and lovers. Hot, sexy, etc.; but there was something about being called photogenic by Bucky that made your heart flutter and a blush break out on your cheeks. You sat up, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Photogenic?” you ask. He nods, eyes trailing down your body. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.” It was meant as a joke, but you both knew it was the truth.

“If it’s alright with you,” he says, holding the camera up for you to see. “Can I….take some pictures of you?”

The question catches you off guard.

You knew he took some snaps of you now and then, but he was technically asking you for a photoshoot now. You knew he wouldn’t post them or anything – he barely could operate the remote for the TV.

“Alright,” you say, standing and walking over to him. 

“Where do you want me?”


It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

You were in the pool, floating around on Clint’s little duck floaty as Bucky snapped picture after picture of you. It was almost as if you were some A-list celebrity. You felt like Marilyn Monroe without the extra craziness that came along with it. It was flattering, to say the least.

“Is this okay?” you asked him as you took a sip from your beer.

“It’s perfect,” he says, snapping another picture. “You look gorgeous.”

He looked like a kid at Christmas. Maybe he was just excited that someone had took an interest in his hobby? He always got that way when Steve asked him about his pictures.

After a couple of hours, you began to grow tired. The beaming sun on your body mixed with your hands turning wrinkly were draining you and Bucky had run out of film. He had used an entire roll; scattered all around him from his lap and onto the concrete were pictures of you.

“You said you had more of those,” you mention, peering up at him. He hums a yes while taking a sip of his own beer. You can’t help but stare at his jawline. Man, you could cut diamonds on that thing. “Can you show me?” His eyes light up at your words.

“Anything for you, doll.” He grins, setting the beer down and helping you out of the pool.

You’d always wanted to see this so called collection that Steve talked about. He said that Bucky had a whole wall dedicated

to it. You had to see this for yourself.

Bucky’s room wasn’t as dark and gloomy as you thought it would be. In fact, it was pretty well decorated.

The first thing you caught was the Polaroid’s, which covered an entire wall. You gaped, standing in front of it. There were pictures of everyone doing all sorts of things.

You saw one taken on Sam’s birthday; Clint had smashed some cake into his face. You saw another taken of Peter, who was dangling upside down on a web, grinning at the camera. You giggled when you saw one of Nat as she was angrily swatting at the camera, her face covered in a facial mask. There was even one of Vision giving the camera a thumbs up as he stirred whatever he was cooking.

But the one that caught your eye the most was a peculiar one on his desk. If you hadn’t of glanced there, you wouldn’t have noticed it in the first place. Moving the random book that covered half of it, you held it up so that you could get a better look.

And you weren’t sure if you should’ve done that.

It was a Polaroid of you a couple months back. You had spilled a glass of soda on your white sleeping shirt during movie night and your nipples were almost visible through the material.

Thinking back to that night, you remembered that there wasn’t anyone else in the kitchen with you either. How did he even get that pi-

Before you could react, Bucky snatched the Polaroid from your hand and held it behind his back defensively.

“What…how did….why?” you stuttered. If he’d taken one picture like this, there surely must’ve been more, right? He was far too skilled when it came to it.

Bucky stared down at the floor shamefully.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he says quietly. You frown.

“Find out what?” You ask, glancing back at the photos. “That you’re taking perverted pictures of me?”

“That’s not what this is, I swear!” he cried. “I like you, Y/N. A lot, actually. I didn’t know how to approach you. I’m not used to being around…women.”

“But Nat…”

“Nat’s well….she’s Nat,” he says with a nervous chuckle. One that he immediately stops when he sees your eyes grow colder. “She’s not really a traditional dame, if you catch my drift. She’s like one of the guys.”

You had no idea what to say. You were frustrated, not because you were embarrassed, but because somehow, deep in that dirty little mind of yours, you found this to be the sweetest thing. But you couldn’t figure out if it was because it was Bucky, or because it was the situation. You were utterly confused.

You stood in front of Bucky, holding the picture in your hands. 


“This has got to be the creepiest…” you began. His face fell into a frown. “….cutest thing anyone has ever done for me, Bucky.” You placed the picture back into his hand and placed a small kiss on his lips.

“What do you say we take some more? Maybe without all these clothes on?”

His eyes nearly shot out of his head at how wide they were. You watched his face as you reached behind your back and slowly undid the bikini top and dropped it onto the floor. His mouth fell open at the sight of your bare chest. You licked your lips before crashing them onto his. His hands felt their way to your hips, hooking underneath the bottoms of your bikini and tugging them down your thighs forcefully. Once he rid them from you, he gave your behind a playful swat. You moaned into his mouth. He pulled away, staring down at you with darkened eyes. This was far better than any picture he could’ve taken.

“C’mere,” he says, gently pushing you back onto the bed. He picked your legs and spread them wide, setting both your feet on the bed. You felt so exposed and it was the hottest thing you’ve experienced so far. You rested your hands on your stomach as you patiently waited for Bucky. The sound of clicking was the only thing audible as he replaced the film in his camera.

“Okay, doll,” his Brooklyn accent now, and it sent a wave of arousal to your core.

You picked your head up and peer up at him. He held the camera in his hands, but his eyes were glued between your legs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the comforter, just imagine how it must’ve looked to Bucky.

He cleared his throat before looking back into your eyes. “Can you spread your legs for me?” he asks.

You can’t help but giggle at how chivalrous he was even when he was horny. You nod, spreading your legs farther apart, giving him a full view of your pussy. You could hear his breath stutter, he cursed under his breath.

“Like this?” you ask innocently, sliding your hand down your body until your fingers are resting on your lips, spreading them apart. Bucky lets out a small groan at the sight and nods.

“That’s perfect, angel.” He says, looking into the camera and pressing the little red button on the side. You watched as the picture slipped out of the camera and onto Bucky’s hand. Setting it on the dresser, he turned back to you with a grin.

“You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he says, leaning down and pecking your lips. “Can you try something else for me?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, darling.” You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but you couldn’t help it. You were being showered with affection and compliments, you were lost in Bucky at the moment. 


Bucky held the camera with his flesh hand and brought his metal one to your mouth. His fingers brushed your bottom lip, running along the pink flesh. “Can you get these nice and wet for me, sweetie?” you groan at the nickname and take two of his fingers into your mouth, lapping them up with your tongue.

Bucky watched you as you did, licking his lips hungrily. Pulling them out, he leaned forward and pecked your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Leaning back between your legs, he slowly ran his fingers along the slit of your core, making sure your lips were spread. He placed the camera between your legs and pressed red the button again.

“Fuck,” you whispered. His metal fingers were cold, but you didn’t mind. They felt amazing.

You began grinding your hips into them, eager for some kind of friction. Bucky smiled down at you, one that showed nothing but pure admiration.

“You want my fingers, honey? Is that it?” he asks. You nod furiously.

“Please, Bucky.” Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he inserted his first finger into you. But it wasn’t nearly enough. You needed more.

Placing the camera back between your legs, he added another finger; earning a moan from you. Clicking the red button, you let out another moan as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. You grabbed onto his arms, spreading your legs even wider.

“Oh my god,” you whimper. His fingers began creating an obscene sound as they entered you over and over again. It was so damn filthy, but you fucking loved it.

Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his fingers from your dripping core, making you whine.

“We’re not done yet, doll,” he says. He placed the camera on the bed and slowly pulled the black boxers he wore down. You watched as they traveled down his toned thighs until they were nothing more than a heap of material on the floor.

He gripped his member in his flesh hand and slowly began pumping himself as he stared down at you. That’s when you got the brightest idea. Reaching beside you, you grabbed the camera and aimed it at Bucky and pressed the little red button. You turned the camera towards you and held the Polaroid in your fingers. You couldn’t see his face, but you could had a perfect view of his cock, leaking precum onto his hand. Smiling innocently, you placed the picture on the dresser.

“Y/N,” he smiled. “Did you just….?”

You reached forward and pulled him on top of you. You threaded your fingers in his hair and crashed his mouth onto yours. He let out a moan into the kiss, licking inside your mouth with his tongue. He tasted so damn good, just like you knew he would.

Your legs found themselves wrapped around his waist and you could feel him sliding across your heat. You reached down between the two of you and gripped his member, guiding it to your entrance.

“Not so fast, sugar,” he teased, reaching for the camera. He leaned back, aiming the camera between your bodies. He gripped himself once again and slid the head of his cock against your dripping hole. You threw your head back, letting out a cry of pleasure. You ached for him, yet he tortured you. It wasn’t fair.

The sound of the camera snapping pulled you back to reality.

“Bucky,” you hissed. “Enough already. Just fuck me!” He chuckled with amusement.

He slowly pressed the head inside of you, stretching your walls farther than they’ve ever been. It hurt, but it was amazing. His head fell onto your shoulder and he let out a shaky breath. He pulled out all the way and peered down between the two of you. The sight of his cock covered in your juices nearly made you orgasm right then.

Without telling you, he slammed his hips into yours, making you scream out in both pain and pleasure. His thrusts were brutal, causing the bed to slam against the wall. You wrapped your arms around him. His mouth found its way to your shoulder, biting gently onto the flesh. He felt so fucking good, you felt like you could cry.

Shifting his weight onto his knees, Bucky pulled your legs over his waist and began thrusting harder into your abused hole. Your head fell back onto the bed, you could feel your clit rubbing against his abdomen in such delicious way.

It was all too much for you. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your body was trembling with pleasure. Bucky’s hands began kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples softly. He let out a loud groan as he felt the head of his cock hit your cervix. The sound of your skin hitting his filled the room, along with your screams.

“Bucky,” you cried. "I’m gonna come!”

He let out a shaky laugh, amused at how much you loved this, before grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. He gently sucked on your neck, nibbling into the delicate flesh.

You let out a scream as your orgasm ripped through your body. You dragged your nails down Bucky’s back, making him let out a gasp. His thrusts are becoming sloppy, you can feel him trembling against your body, but you’re too out of it to even care. You just came your brains out.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He growled into your ear. “Im gonna come.”

You gently pushed him away from you, he let out a whine. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you force him to stand. You kneel in front of him, opening your mouth for him.

Taking the hint, he grabbed the camera and aimed it at you, while pumping himself curiously with his metal hand.

He’s chanting your name over and over, thrusting into his fist and its the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You can’t wait to taste him.

FUCK Y/N!” He shouts, his orgasm ripping through him.

You lean closer as he coats ribbon after ribbon of come onto your mouth and breasts. It was a lot, far more than any of the few guys you’ve been with could produce. He tasted sweeter than them, too. You licked your lips, gathering some of it with your tongue.

You looked up at Bucky innocently, smiling at him.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N.” he breathes. He lifted the camera and aimed it at you. With a nod, you smile seductively as he clicked the little red button.

Tossing the camera onto the bed, he helped you up from the floor and set you on his bed. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he ran to the bathroom. You could hear the faint sound of a faucet running. He made his way back to you, a small washcloth in hand and a sheepish smile on his lips.

He gently wiped your face, making sure nothing was left, before making his way to your chest.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking the silence. Your eyes met his.

“Yes, Bucky?” The corners of his mouth twitched at the sound of his name coming from your mouth.

I love you.” You can’t fight the grin that spreads on your face.

“I know,” you say, placing a kiss on his lips. “I love you, too.

- Fin!

Suga Daddy: Part 7

Suga Daddy: Part 7

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Words: 9.6k

Genre: Smut, angst, dirty talk, dom!Yoongi

There is another gif in the story that describes the moment I was portraying. Ignore Namjoon’s name on it, lol. Anyway, enjoy :) 

Parts:  one | two | three | four | five | six 

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lavender hues (m)

fantasy au (reposted)

pairing: jimin | reader
genre: angst and fluff
word count: 13.094
warnings: sexual content 
author’s note: previously named ‘if these wings could fly’ in my old blog. I’m just reposting it with a new name. :)


Beauty. If someone asked you to define it, your mouth would probably go dry and your heart would flutter yearningly, freezing as the words turn heavy in your mind and dissolve in the tip of your tongue.

Beauty is short-lived but ubiquitous, a transparent but shimmering liquid running in rivulets through hidden alleyways and veiled landscapes that the eyes don’t notice unless they look twice. Beauty is found in the unexpected, in the withheld words of the timid poets, in longing stares and authentic, carefree laughs. Beauty is found in what the eyes can see, in what the ears can hear, in the deep reverie of the colorful minds and in the dreams held close to the heart.

Beauty is fleeting and you’re unable to grasp it. All your life you’ve chased it, extended your hands towards it, longed to touch it with your fingertips. But your steps are slow and your hands are ungifted, and you can only imagine what it would be like to create beauty, to have the hands of those that are able to reflect love and joy and pain in books and paintings.

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Yuri on Ice interview translation - Animage 2017/01 (p20-23)

I was going to post this last week but gave priority to the BD stuff. This will be the final interview from the booklet that came with January Animage! There’s still an interview with Kenji Miyamoto left untranslated, but it will be taken care of by @whiteboxgems​ whenever she has time! I’ll reblog it when it’s around.

This is actually 2 interviews, I’m posting them together because they were one after the other and (main reason) because the second one is very short.
A few notes below to better understand the interviews.

The first one is with Yuuichirou Hayashi, the one who created the ending (ED = ending by the way) footage. I have the feeling someone previously posted translations of the captions under the ED screenshots, but I don’t remember where and I’m pretty sure it was just the captions and not the interview parts, so here you have it complete. This one is pretty interesting because he explains in detail how they created the ED, and has some extra information on cut scenes etc. Definitely a must read in my opinion!

The second one is a short interview with Kayoko Ishikawa, the one who did the costume designs. Here you might think: didn’t Chacott design the costumes? I’ll explain. It’s more or less like with Mitsurou Kubo and Tadashi Hiramatsu: Kubo created the original designs for the characters, from scratch, and Hiramatsu transformed them into designs specifically created for animation, therefore with simpler lines, detailed expression sheets and so on. Likewise, Chacott did the original designs for the costumes, from scratch, based on the indications by Yamamoto and Kubo, and then the anime’s costume designer simplified and modified them so that they would be suitable to be animated. (Before actually animating them there’s a further step: the anime’s color designer is going to decide the exact colors, shadows and highlights included, that will be used inside the anime. I translated an interview with the color designer Izumi Hirose some time ago)

I usually don’t add pictures but this time I felt that it would be better to add them as an immediate reference. However, they are just for reference and are not meant to be visually stunning, so please bear with the quality because I just took photos of the magazine with my phone and quickly edited them.

Translation under the cut! (kind of image-heavy)

***If you wish to share this translation please do it by reblogging or posting a link to it***

***Re-translating into other languages is ok but please mention that this post is the source***

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“Don’t bother,” he replies grimly, “I said I wasn’t interested in this. If we fucked, sorry for leading you on, if we didn’t, I don’t know why you’d want to be associated with me anyways.” And Harry wants this conversation to end right there, now that he’s said his piece, so he looks back towards Y/N and says, “These are organic grapes, no?”

The girl gets the hint, leaving with a huff and Y/N tuts her tongue at him.

“You’re so mean, Harry! What if she really liked you?”

Harry shakes his head, “She liked my cock not me.” He says apathetically, and Y/N’s face turns towards sheepish like it always does when the mere mention of his escapades comes to head (which it doesn’t often, but he knows Y/N has ears and she hears things), “‘sides, she was rude to you. I don’t like that.” He straightens out, “Did you take your medicine?”

or

Harry doesn’t really like people, but he likes Y/N

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

okay J, now that the writers queerbaited the fuck outta us, it's time for you to work your magic and give us a longer version of the "belated valentine's day prom". PLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSSSSEEEEEE

A continuation of this – http://queergirlwriting.tumblr.com/post/157525909609/man-i-would-fucking-love-to-get-a-scene-where-kara

She calls it a pet peeve. But it’s not.

It’s a trauma.

She calls it a pet peeve. But it’s not.

It’s a need.

It’s a need because she was fourteen and high school was amazing because Eliza held her hand and Eliza snuck her dad’s cigarettes down from the house and they crawled into the bathroom of the basement and giggled, their lips so close – Eliza’s lips looking so soft – as they blew the smoke out of the small vent so Eliza’s parents wouldn’t catch them.

But it wasn’t the smoke that Eliza’s parents caught.

It was the card.

The card, the card, the card.

The fucking valentine’s day card.

The betrayal that ended everything.

Because her father called her downstairs with the phone still in his hand and her father smacked her across the face with the back of that hand and her father gave her ten minutes to pack her things and to get out of his house and to never come back because she is filthy and she is ungrateful and she is selfish and she is wrong, and her mother cried but her mother didn’t stop him, and her face stung and her heart stung worse and her hands trembled but her face stayed dry because she would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her break for being who she is.

She calls it a pet peeve. Needing to be heard.

Because Eliza didn’t hear her. Her father didn’t hear her. None of her exes had ever heard her.

She calls it a pet peeve because no one has ever loved her enough to let her call it trauma.

Until Alex Danvers, that is.

Because she leaves Alex a card: she leaves Alex a card, and Alex will not give it to her parents. She gives Alex a card, and Alex will do nothing but love her back.

Or she hopes.

She’s probably stupid for hoping. But she hopes anyway.

James and J’onn help her with the set-up, and Winn whips together the dress at the last minute before running off on his own valentine’s excursion. James kisses her cheek before he leaves, as 8 o’clock approaches, and J’onn puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Alex cares for you, Maggie. Just as you are. Let her hold you up when you need it. You deserve that. You do. I promise.”

She gulps and she nods and J’onn squeezes her shoulder.

“He’s right, Maggie,” James tells her before giving the room one last glance. “It looks beautiful. And so do you.”

Maggie grimaces a smile at them, and they understand that she’s too nervous to speak, that she’s too terrified to move. They smile at her before they leave, and she hangs onto the hope that these people, these beautiful people, will still love her after tonight.

She doesn’t know how long she waits for Alex, because she can’t think. She can’t do anything but try to swallow her panic, surrounded by red helium balloons and candlelight and all the things that reminded her of the bruise her father left on her face and the welts he left on her heart.

She can’t do anything but try to focus on Alex, Alex, Alex. On hoping that Alex will be different.

This is a relationship, Alex had insisted. And it’s that statement, Alex fighting for her, for them, that is keeping Maggie holding on.

“Wow, you’re breathtaking,” she says when Alex walks in, because god, god, god, she is.

“Maggie, what is all this?”

Alex’s voice trembles slightly as she asks, and somehow, that warms the protective steel around Maggie’s heart. She smiles slightly, her voice softer now.

“It’s your belated Valentine’s Day prom.” She reaches for the corsage and sends James a silent thank you for running to the florist and picking up exactly what Maggie had described.

“May I?” she asks, and her body tingles with relief as her fingertips touch Alex’s wrist.

Alex exhales hard, exhales shakily, and steps around Maggie, and the back of the dress – god, thank you, Winn Schott – takes Maggie’s breath away. Again.

“I’m sorry. So sorry. I was too busy nursing my own wounds, and I forgot to look at the gorgeous woman in front of me and consider her feelings. You deserved all of this, as a girl. The pomp and the fuss. And you deserve an amazing romance with a woman who is absolutely crazy about you.”

She tilts her head and she stares up at Alex, because Alex is perfection, and Alex’s hands are warm in hers, and Alex makes the color red on Valentine’s Day a little less terrible, a little less traumatic.

But Alex is shaking her head and Alex is reaching her fingers up to run them through Maggie’s hair, to stroke her cheeks, to fuss with her blazer’s collar.

Maggie’s heart sinks and she starts panicking, she starts hyperventilating, but then Alex is talking, and Maggie wants to cry for an entirely different reason.

“Maggie, I… you deserve this. The pomp and the fuss. An amazing romance with a woman who is absolutely crazy about you. And I’m absolutely crazy about you. And that… that means… Maggie, that means you don’t have to make it all about me, all the time. I love that you… I love that you thought about me, I love that you did all this, but Maggie, you…”

She stops and she stares down at Maggie’s wet eyes for a long moment, and there’s nothing but unguarded love in her eyes, and no one has ever existed but the two of them.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong. Maggie, I… I heard you. I heard everything you said. And because I heard you, I… I don’t want you to just shove all that back down to make everything about me. Again. You did it while I was coming out, and I get it, and you’re so sweet, Maggie, but I don’t… I don’t want you putting yourself second for me, not anymore. I don’t want you burying your pain, your… trauma, Maggie, you were a child, that was traumatic, I… I want you, Maggie.”

She brings her fingers to a lips and kisses them, one by one, slowly, deliberately, all while keeping her eyes locked in Maggie’s, before she continues.

“All of you. And this is beautiful, this is amazing, but Maggie, I want you to feel able to just… to vent, and to scream, and to lose your cool, to cry. With me. Because I want you, Maggie, I care about you, not… not just what you can do for me. You letting me in, you letting me care for you, letting me comfort you? That’s the greatest gift you could ever give me, Maggie. You… you letting me love you.”

Alex stumbles to a halt and Maggie’s breath hitches as they both realize what Alex said, as they both lose themselves in each other’s eyes, in each other’s hands, in each other’s hearts.

“Danvers, you – Alex, I – “

Alex shakes her head with closed eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I want you to know that you’re cared for. That you’re safe. That you’re allowed to put yourself first, that I want you to put yourself first. That you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. That you’re perfect. That I l…”

She stares down at Maggie’s wide eyes and she licks her lips and she is Alex Danvers, dammit, so she dives.

“That I love you. Maggie Sawyer. All of you. And I just want you to let me love you, let me care for you, let me be here for you. Let me love you.”

Maggie takes one breath, and then another, and then one word escapes her lips.

The only word that matters in the entire multiverse.

Alex.”

And her hands are on the small of Alex’s bare back and Alex’s hands are tangling in her hair, cupping her face, her thumbs swiping across her cheeks, and Alex’s lips are soft and Alex’s lips are healing and Alex’s lips are heaven, and she’s never cried while she kissed anyone, she’s never cried in front of anyone without running out the door before the first tear could fall, but she’s crying now, and Alex is catching her tears with her thumbs and kissing them away with her lips, but Maggie doesn’t want Alex’s lips on her cheeks, her eyes – she does, she does, but later, later, because there will be a later, because Alex went to the dance with her, Alex didn’t give her note to her parents, Alex came to the dance with her and Alex is kissing her and Alex is holding her and Alex, Alex, Alex  – Maggie just wants, right now, Alex’s lips on her own, and she shifts, and Alex knows, because Alex knows her, and Maggie’s lips are parting and Alex is slipping her tongue in her mouth gently, gently, lovingly, and Maggie sighs into their kiss and Alex echoes it and their breathe, their heartbeats, their bodies, are indistinguishable as their bodies sway to music and to swaying lights and to the rhythm of their perfect kiss.

“I love you back, Alex Danvers,” Maggie’s whispering into her lips, and the tears dripping salt onto her lips are suddenly not only her own, and she pulls back, because Alex Danvers crying is heartbreaking, and Alex Danvers crying is beautiful.

Their chests are both heaving slightly and their lips are swollen and their bodies are flush against each other and their bodies are intertwined and their eyes refuse to leave each others.

“May I have this dance?” Alex asks her breathlessly, and Maggie smiles helplessly, because she knows her life will never be the same.

Because she knows that Alex means it when she says she loves her, and god, god, god does it feel good to be loved – and to love – like this.

YOI Fan Rec Friday

Hi! Thank you for all your requests this week! If you don’t see your rec, it means that it will be on next week’s list!

Rec’d by @theoneandonlyzoe and @streganicha:
Traslations on Ice series by Jenrose, Gen-Explicit, 101k (WIP)
The series begins with Victor’s point of view through the show, but then quickly moves into a post-season 1 continuation from several points of view.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Yu-topia Gentleman’s Club by Aradellia (CurtusPatronus), Teen, 45k (WIP)
Victor hadn’t exactly wanted the end of his long training day to finish at the bottom of a glass alongside his friend Chris, however he hadn’t expected Chris to drag him to a strip club, of all places. Of course, he also hadn’t expected to be introduced to one of the most alluring and blinding dancers he had ever seen in his life.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
You Set My Heart on Fire by whelvenwings, Teen, 34k 
Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone sees any marks on their soulmate’s skin appear on their own body; it starts with the first marks, drawn on by the midwife at birth. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a soulmate who replies, but Yuuri does, and he knows that he should feel fortunate - however, when he’s trying to make a living as a small-time painter, and his soulmate is the famous artist, Viktor Nikiforov… well, it seems slightly less than fortunate.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
heartbeat by shizuoh, Mature, 9.2k (WIP)
the warm bodies au where zombie viktor falls for human yuuri

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @xxxbladeangelxxx :
I Saw Your Reflection in the Waters of my Heart by Saingirl101, Explicit, 26k (WIP)
“I know it can be a lot to take in.” Viktor said with amusement clear in his voice.
“I don’t understand.” Yuuri said quaking slightly under Viktor’s gaze and warm hands, “Why would you ever want to meet someone like me?” He looked down. “I’m nothing special.”
Viktor’s brows pinched together as he let out a breath as if in disbelief, his head tilted slightly so the light of the moon reflected in his horns. “I have never thought of you as anything but extraordinary, Yuuri.”

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
wires by mizbritishnyxian, Gen, 5.7k (WIP)
Viktor doesn’t go to Japan. He has a season off, mourns for a love he never had, and wonders if continuing is even worth it anymore. Maybe, somehow, he’ll find the one he’d fallen for. And maybe, somehow, he’ll be able to convince himself that they’re in love with him.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Can You Hear My Heartbeat? by HQ_Wingster, Teen, 67k (WIP)
Whether it’s the tremolo of a note ringing out in the distance or a splendid duet between two individuals, music had a way of bringing people together. Music had a way of tearing things apart. Music had a way to express an open heart. Music had a way of gutting a life until everything bled.For one individual, music was his world. For music, it reunited a part of the world that he thought he had lost.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @bookfreaksworld :
Seventh Heaven (The Lion and the Eagle) by NinjaMatty, Mature, 70k (WIP) **Graphic depictions of violence 
The war is over. Katsuki Yuuri just wants to go home and forget about it all. But his heroics brought him the unwanted attention of the Emperor of his nation. As a thanks for his bravery, he is gifted an Omega barbarian. He tries to be positive about it, but the present ends up being a poisoned gift indeed. Is keeping Viktor worth the trouble?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Senescence by Katyaton, Teen, 9k (WIP)
Life hadn’t been fair to either Viktor or Yuuri - A chance accident after the Sochi Grand Prix was all it took to irrevocably change both of their lives for good. However, when an innovative technology emerges that promises life after death, it seems they may have the chance to make everything right, despite the distance and years that have kept them apart.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
And we’ll keep moving, me & you by Natsumi, Mature, 3.8k (WIP)
Saint Petersburg is cold, Victor is busy, and Yuuri worries. Until he doesn’t anymore.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
we were together; i forget the rest by TrumpetGeek, Teen, 2k (WIP)
It’s in the moments between sleeping and waking, when he becomes conscious of Yuuri in his bed and in his arms -soft moments just before sunrise when he can hold out his hand and admire the way the gold creates shadows on his skin.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
I’m Right Here by merigold, Gen, 8.7k
Yuuri’s sick. Viktor’s more than a little charmed at the chance to take care of him.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Fondue by BastetCG, elenathea, Mature, 55k (WIP)
Male dancers are not supposed to dance en pointe. Yuuri knows that. Everyone knows that. But he can’t help but want to. He wants to be graceful and beautiful and float across the stage. And if he can find the confidence to explain that to Viktor, Viktor might just be able to help.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Forgotten Memories by Otakugirl1228, Teen, 12k (WIP)
In this world there are such things as soulmates, a persons one true love. You will know when you meet them the clock on your wrist will stop at zero, and your entire world will fill with color for the first time. But what if your soulmate didn’t have either of these things happen to them? 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The Katsuki Floating Bicycle Shop by turtleduck, Gen, 1.2k
Victor likes Yuuri’s family’s cute little bicycle shop. He likes the view, the colors, and the fresh air. But mostly he likes Yuuri. Up on the floating island that is the shop, he finds the two of them stuck in their own little world.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @saltprincevictor:
Tenebrae by unexpectedtrash, Explicit, 5.9k (WIP) CW: Religious content
Viktor is on his way to ordination. Yuuri is a novice Jesuit, devoted to music and to his order. They love God with all their heart, all their strength, and with all their mind

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Open up and See by rabidgopher, Not Rated, 2.9k (WIP)
In which Victor is in love with a stranger on the internet, and barely knows the boy who runs that rival bookstore.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Forged by Fire by Judchen, Teen, 4.2k (WIP)
Duelling is a form of art reserved only for nobility. With the help of Viktor, Yuuri plans to change that.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
An Honest Accident by undermyumbreon, Gen, 3.2k
After Yuuri completes his Short Program in a figure skating competition, he finds that he didn’t exactly finish it perfectly. Victor tries to comfort Yuuri and help him work through the embarrassment.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Unintentionally Yours by articas_ursula, Teen, 8.8k (WIP)
Yuri foolishly barges in right before Yuuri’s heat starts; Victor attacks him, thinking Yuri wants to steal his mate; Yuuri nearly kills Victor for harming “their pup”; Yuri just wants his skates back. We will proceed from there.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @saltprincevictor:
Without fear, without metaphor by reginar, Teen, 6k (WIP)
Yuuri was never one to use more words than necessary. Underutilized it, even, his family and friends would remark. Still, there was a certain relief that came with easy communication. Then he started wanting to use words for more. He even ran his mouth quite a few times in the past months, much to his embarrassment. And he quietly admitted to himself that it came with the sudden barrage of Victor Nikiforov into what he expected to be peaceful life and probable retirement in his hometown.  

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
The love behind a mask by Porkcutletkitty, Explicit, 5.3k (WIP)
Yuuri could still remember everything about the mysterious skater, who’s true identity was hidden behind immaculate masks. He remembered how kind and caring the man was and how it felt as if time itself would stop and stare when the man held him in his embrace. He also remembers how that world crumbled into dust when the mysterious man disappeared without so much as a kiss goodbye. It seemed that all traces of the man were gone from existence and yet four simple words brought Yuuri’s world into shambles.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
hailing frequencies by carnivores, Explicit, 5.3k (WIP)
In which Yuuri goes to Starfleet Academy, falls in love, stops a war, meets his soulmate, becomes a Communications Officer, and gets engaged. But not necessarily in that order. Also, Phichit seduces a Vulcan. Because of course he does.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @yuurioniceismylife :
Stay the Night by Shadow_sensei, Mature, 6.3k 
Yuuri Katsuki spends a week sleeping at an old hotel in St. Petersburg, expecting nothing more than a comfortable bed and a clean bathroom. Instead, he makes a mysterious encounter with a man he can neither see nor hear, who can only communicate with him by writing in the dust, and whose identity is only divulged to Yuuri within his dreams.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Changing Shapes by stardropdream, Explicit, 14k
Yuuri thinks about kissing Victor again and starting over from square one. But Yuuri knows that Victor’s stamina isn’t as robust as Yuuri’s own, and he doesn’t quite feel bold enough to make demands while in Victor’s bed. But now that Yuuri is getting semi-regular sex, he finds that he really can’t stop thinking about it most of the time. 

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @exile-wrath and @umadosedefanta:
That Old Time Religion by Tawabids, Teen, 57k **Graphic depictions of violence
Yuuri is pretty sure that when an impossible stranger turns up and tells you he’s the god of victory, it doesn’t matter how good-looking he is. The moment he asks you to abandon your mortal life and come back to his mountain kingdom with him, you turn around and walk away.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @ainiyuku:
For you, Falling by LiaoftheDawn, Gen, 5.4k
Yuuri’s uneventful evening took a sudden and unexpected twist after his friend and crush Victor Nikiforov came throwing pebbles at his window, eyes sparkling, smile bright with the promise of a surprise. “Surprising Yuuri is my thing after all, right?”

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
An Autobiographical Account of the Gross Misfortune of a Japanese Economics Student by NotTheTomato, Teen, 6.4k
In which Yuuri has a Flair for the Dramatic™, there is sexually-charged academic debate, and cravats flutter in the rain - defying physics, but looking amazing.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
A Dog is for Life by teamJNPR, Explicit, 6k (WIP)
Never quite over Vicchan’s death, Yuuri has avoided getting a new dog. So when Phichit coerces him into dog-sitting for famous chef Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri is reluctant.But now Phichit’s made a promise, and Yuuri can’t back out now.(Victor, on the other hand, is ecstatic to find his new dog-sitter is this cute)

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
One Hour Photo by youaremarvelous, Teen, 8k (WIP)
It takes an hour to develop photos, but it’ll probably take longer for something to develop between Viktor and the oblivious but cute cashier boy.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
blood is thicker than by icanhinatashouyoutheworld, Teen, 11k (WIP)
“You might be Yuri’s biological parent, Mr. Nikiforov. But I’m his father. If Yuri wants to go with you, that’s one thing,” Yuuri Katsuki’s voice flows quiet and dangerous into the room “but if he doesn’t, don’t think that you’re taking my child away from home,”

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous and @i-am-here-with-stupid:
Signs of Love by dia_dove, Explicit, 122k
After being discovered by his peers as an omega, Yuuri runs from the world of figure skating. It’s only to see his friend skate that he returns to the rink one more time. When he runs into skater and alpha Viktor Nikiforov, his body reacts in a way that neither he nor Viktor expect.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Drive by proantagonist, Explicit, 12k (WIP)
A story in which two sets of best friends road trip across America together.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Ways in Which Yuuri Tries to Play Off a Love Confession by fuxked, Gen, 3.5k (WIP)
A collection of ways in which yuuri tries to play off accidentally confessing his love to Viktor in various settings.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @theneverendingpurplesky:
(Don’t) Ring the Wedding Bells by cuttlemefish, Explicit, 31k (WIP)
As (loosely) inspired by real life, this is the wedding reception AU (you didn’t ask for, but will get) in which Yuuri Katsuki catches the bride’s bouquet and (shortly after) gets smashed at a wedding reception, then dirty dances with his best friend, (sort of) seduces a (hot) platinum-haired trust-fund baby named Viktor, and ends up being hounded for his identity (by said trust-fund baby and his friends and family) on social media.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
we are lost, but we are not gone by persephoneggsy, Mature, 26k (WIP)
The Dollhouse deals in fantasy, but Victor Nikiforov just needs one night. At least, until he finds himself wanting more. And it’s all because of Eros, the beautiful Active that’s consumed his every thought.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @mariellis1d:
Grinkov by waldorph, Teen, 5.3k **Major character death
The 2022 Olympics were Yurio’s to lose.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Blackbird by sixpences, Mature, 102k **Graphic depictions of violence
The year is 1942, and Europe is at war. Captain Victor Nikiforov, an intelligence operative for the NKVD, has been trapped in Berlin by the German invasion of the USSR. Posing as a Nazi industrialist, his days are spent charming information out of Axis diplomats to try and keep the Red Army fighting another day. Yuuri Katsuki, a foreign-educated bureaucrat in the Japanese Embassy, has secrets of his own concealed beneath his unremarkable demeanour. When he uncovers Victor’s real identity, it will alter the course of both of their lives forever.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by anonymous:
Never Look Away by gabapple, mamodewberry, Mature, 108k (WIP)
Everything Viktor knows and loves is tangled up in the world of competitive skating- a world that, for him, is quickly coming to an end. Standing at the precipice of the inevitable, he must decide how his tale unfolds: should he retire into quiet obscurity? Allow himself to be eaten alive by the younger, more vicious competition?

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @glass-o-lemonade:
Forever Love by shadhahvar, Gen, 5.9k **Major character death
After a long and happy married life with each other, Yuuri and Victor have raised a daughter together, seen her married, and witnessed the birth of their first grandchild. When illness takes Victor away from Yuuri too soon (ever would be too soon), Yuuri is left to work through grief and make the most of his life until he sees Victor again.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @roseus-jaeger:
You have a Brother!? by RoseusJaeger, Teen, 3.6k
Katsuki Yuuri thought his date with Victor to the park would be peaceful until a very familiar-looking man decides to crash it.In addition, Victor gets hospitalized and Yuuri finds himself grateful this stranger showed up in their lives.

✧·゚: *✧·゚:* *:·゚✧*:·゚✧

Rec’d by @infinitely-skybound:
On Matters of the Heart by infinite_imagination, Teen, 15k (WIP)
In a world where magic is rare and soulmarks even rarer, Yuuri, the youngest prince of Hasetsu, has somehow managed to be born with both. His name means strength and courage, but he doubts he is enough to become worthy of his soulmate, or if he even wants them.


Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

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How to Annotate Literature

Many times language and literature classes require students to annotate the books that are given to them, but in many cases tips and advice on how to do so is lacking. I will be sharing my personal strategy for efficient and successful annotating that will not only help your understanding of the text but also gain the love of your teachers!

The tips have been divided into 5 components, each with their own explanation.

Sticky Tabs are Your Best Friend

I don’t know how I would manage to annotate without my sticky tabs. They help me organize and navigate the book before the reading, remind me what to look for while i’m going through the text and help me find whatever I may need once I get to further analysis for the class. 

Create a key for your tabs, personally I use five colors each having a few specific purposes based on where I place them in the book. Most stickies are accompanied by a specific note that will remind me of what I wanted to point out, these stick out of the right margin. 

  • Pink- Anything to do with characters, be it development or certain traits to remember. It can also be used for when you have questions about character related aspects of the text.
  • Orange- Refers to setting, in plays it is also applicable for stage directions.
  • Yellow- Is used for literary devices and use of language (tone, diction, patterns) and syntax, if there is a particular word the author used or a structure you want to take note of, this is the color to use. 
  • Green- Applicable to any important plot events, notable scenes or things that you think will be significant later in the story.
  • Blue- Themes and context of said ideas, anything to do with time, place and space in which the text takes place. It can also relate to how your context (a student reading a book for a literature course) impacts your perception of the text.

These are the things teachers usually look out for and it is certainly useful in any kind of further task! 

The top and bottom margins can be used to divide the book in to sections, such as chapters or scenes, mark the most important pages and to also highlight text to text connections. These colors you can pick yourself!

I do not recommend having more than 5 sticky tabs per page, otherwise it gets too crowded and they lose their purpose! (but you will still need to buy aaa lloootttt)

This is my key for the book I am currently annotating, Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw. 

Don’t Overdo it With the Highlighter

Find one color highlighter that you like the most and use it to mark explicit words or phrases that catch your attention, you can also use them in correlation with you sticky tabs! 

I prefer to use a yellow highlighter because it seems to bleed the least, and I usually use it in relation to the the yellow and blue tabs because those are the ones that relate to the most detailed and minute parts of the text. Once again you can find your own preference! But don’t overdo it, otherwise, like the tabs, the highlighter will lose its function to highlight important points. 

This is an example of how much highlighting I usually do. For non-fictional texts or parts of a book (like in the introduction you see here) I reserved highlighter for dates and names. 

Have a Conversation With the Author

This is one of the first tips that my high school teacher gave me and it’s really one of the most important ones to remember. And I know, it may sound kinda silly, but I find that it really helps me in developing my ideas and remembering exactly how I felt about a certain aspect of part of the text. 

Whether the text is fiction of non fiction, anything in between, you can always do these few things

  • Ask questions- As if you were going to get an answer, ask questions, write them down and write down as many as you want. Writing things down helps people remember so then it is more likely that in a class discussion you will be able to recall your queries or wonders. 
  • If you don’t like something, or you’re surprised by something, write it down! Use exclamation marks, use words that you would use in a regular conversation. I always write ‘WOW!!’ or ‘OMG’ when i’m especially impressed, and having such vocal- well written vocally- emotions will bring you closer to the subject of the text. 
  • Talk to the characters as well, if you are questioning a character’s actions ask them and provide an explanation as to why you speculate they may have acted a certain way. Not only does that further contribute to your involvement (also making things more entertaining) but it also deepens your thought!

What i’m trying to say is write down anything that comes to mind, your first response is your true response, and it is a valuable addition to your notes! And if you want to write a whole essay in between the lines… Actually, i’ll come back to that later! 

Pens, not Pencils 

I used to make notes completely in pencil but my approach changed when I realized that overtime the pencil would rub off and get illegible. I think it was because I used my book so much, but having switched to pen I realized that it helps me in quite a few other things as well. 

The good thing about pen is that you can’t erase it and let’s say you started writing down a note, scan down the page and realize what you are taking a note of is completely wrong. That’s ok! That’s actually really good! Don’t scribble out what you just wrote down, but instead continue and explain why you may have thought a certain way and what your understanding is now. That relates really closely to the previous note. 

Evidently pen also appears darker on the page, then there’s no possibility of it ever disappearing. It also won’t smudge or bleed as long as it’s ballpoint! That’s a good thing when drawing arrows between lines, underlining in addition to your highlights and circling/boxing whatever you deem necessary.

Time, Effort and Commitment

It’s clear that this post took me a while to make, and it took me a while to develop this system with all of the things that I have considered. So it must be self evident that using this type of annotation won’t be quick. It might get tiring at some times, and for me it really does, but at the end I find that it always pays off! You have to stay committed to this technique, you have to put in the same amount of effort for every page, which means you need time. So here are a few final general tips I will leave you with.

  • Don’t procrastinate! As goes for any task, and this one more than any, don’t waste time getting to it! I advice you check how many pages you have in total and make sure that you do a certain amount per day (usually 5-10 pages a day is good!)
  • If you go off on massive tangents in the side bars, make sure that you don’t get too distracted by them because they will take up a lot of your time. But one now and then may be good! Be sure to mark it for later reference!
  • Play mind games with yourself. This one is actually pretty interesting but it personally gets me a long way. If you have 20 pages left, don’t look at it as 20 pages but instead as 4 times 5, then the amount will seem a lot more manageable! It’s a kind of self encouragement!
  • That can also be said by looking now and then at how far your bookmark has moved through the book and giving yourself a pat on the back for all of you hard work!

That’s all I have for now! If you have any further questions for advice or explanation please message me and I will be more than happy to help! And I hope that this helps some people out too! (I’m counting this as 21/100 days of productivity as all I did today was related to annotating.)

Teacher || Min Yoongi

Originally posted by relationshipwithbts

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff


“Sangwoo, can you come here for a second?” The boy looked up from where he was drawing in the back of the class and locked eyes with you. He was sat alone in the corner, away from the other kids and it broke your heart to see him like this. Sangwoo was usually active with the other kids and used to always participate in class, but lately he had been pulling away from everyone.

The boy cleaned up the items he had been using and he slowly got up from where he was sitting. The sluggish movements of the six year old worried you and a frown came across you face. His eyes seemed to be locked on the ground as he walked towards you, not wanting to make eye contact. The action seemed to be his way of hiding from you and you sighed, slowly crouching down to his height.

“Sangwoo, do you have something you want to tell teacher about?” You asked. You hoped the words would be enough encouragement for the boy to speak but the words he said weren’t the ones you had been looking for. You became even more worried as you heard the words that left his mouth and you wondered if something was going on at home.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” Sangwoo questioned. His tone made your heart clench and you quickly shook your head, cancelling all fears of his. He seemed to calm down a little bit at the fact that he wasn’t in trouble.

Keep reading

Kiwi: Part One

A little impromptu mini-series based in Jamaica during the writing/recording of Harry’s new album. Enjoy. xo



The music in the bar was pounding as the sounds of the Caribbean flowed through the humid air. It was a small establishment, one that could probably only accommodate for two hundred people at most. It definitely wasn’t a tourist place; most of those were on the other side of the island with the copious amounts of resorts and hotels that offered travellers sanctuary.

Harry wasn’t there to vacation, though. He was there to write and record his new album.

The bar, “Pipo’s Shack”, was about a ten minute walk from the recording studio that Harry had been working in for the past little bit. It had been a productive couple of days; he’d spent the first night there having a few beers and getting to know his team better. After all, they were going to be working together until this thing was done, so they might as well be comfortable with one another. They all got along splendidly, and the handful of songs they’d managed to bang out so far were promising, but not quite right yet. After a couple of days of straight work, Harry decided that he needed a night off to himself.

Keep reading

Jaws - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky accidentally punches you in the face during a training session, which somehow leads to your first kiss and the promise of a date.

Warnings: Kissing.

Words: 1 328

A/N: Very boring drabble that is kinda similar to Lift in terms of the layout. Tell me what you think and please request!

TAKING REQUESTS

Originally posted by you-didnt-see-that-cuming


She ducked under his punch, getting back up just as quickly and trying to elbow his chest. He grabbed hold of her joint and pushed her back. As she came rushing back in for a straight punch to his face, his metal hand flew right to her jaw.

She staggered back before falling to her knees. Her hair fell in front of her face and a few strands stuck to her glistening forehead, a long groan escaping her.

“Oh fuck, Y/N. I’m so sorry!” Bucky panicked, surprised as he thought she would have been able to see through his techniques as always and dodged his incoming attack.

He rushed to her side and knelt beside her, wrapping his arm around her back and using his free hand to remove the hair from her face. She whined in pain, trying to force a smile to not make him feel so bad but not being able to. “Okay, that one hurts… I’m not gonna lie.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He carefully tilted her head to get better lightning on her jaw which was red, bruising and already swollen. “Fuck. That’s bad.”

“I don’t know if it’s anything serious, but I can taste blood?” She looked up at him. “Maybe that’s just normal. Also, my left ear is ringing, or it might be my entire head actually, I can’t tell the difference right now.”

Bucky kept repeatedly mumbling curses as he softly placed his bionic hand over the bruise. She winced in pain at first but the cooling of the metal was better than not having it there at all.

“Remind me to wear a hockey helmet for our next training session or something…” She began to push herself up from the floor. Bucky tried to help her by continuing to hold his arm around her back, which turned out to be very helpful.

“Woah!” He exclaimed as she almost fell forward, his grip of her tightening and keeping her on her feet. “You okay?”

“I just got punched in the face with a hand that’s literally made out of metal. Pardon me if I’m a little dizzy.” She chuckled, her voice strained from the pain radiating up her jaw and numbing the area around it. She turned to face Bucky, her hand carefully touching the swollen bump. “Does it look bad?”

Yeah.

“No.” He lied. “It looks alright.”

“Liar.” She could see straight through him, of course. She always could. “Oh man, and Tony’s birthday party is this weekend.”

“That’s five days away.” Bucky tried to remain hopeful.

She looked over at him, her eyes hooded and her eyebrows raised high, circulating the area where he had punched her. “By the sheer agony I’m in right now, I can tell this isn’t going to go away in five days.”

“I’m sorry…” He pleaded and she dropped her sarcastic attitude, feeling bad for the poor guy.

“I know you are. It’s okay. I’ve had worse. Remember when I got shot in the damn hand in Serbia? When I had to drive the car to the hospital with that hand, the gear lever nearly went through the bullet hole.”

He chuckled after seeing her smile at the brutal recall of a mission two years prior.

“Or when you went two weeks in pain because you thought your body was “healing slowly”, when in reality you had a completely broken arm?” He remembered and she nodded, quietly chuckling before suddenly closing her eyes, grabbing his hand. She pulled it towards her jaw and held it still over, leaning into it whilst still not looking.

Bucky watched in admiration as she dozed off for a few seconds in the comfort of his touch.

“Alright. I’m gonna call this a day. It’s getting late, I think. You must have punched my sense of time out of me.” She smiled and broke loose from him, heading for the gym door slowly.

“Maybe sleeping isn’t that good of an idea? You could have a concussion!” He warned, worried about her health truthfully.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself.” She joked, making it seem as if giving her a concussion had been something Bucky had strived for. He wanted to oblige and take her to Bruce, or anyone else that might be awake at two in the morning and have the skill to properly help her. “So goodnight, or good morning, or whatever.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the gym, feeling more guilty than ever.


He was sat at the kitchen table, eating the scrambled eggs which surprisingly enough, Vision had cooked. Steve sat across Bucky, Peter beside Steve, and Tony and Natasha on both short ends when Y/N came sulking down.

“Good morning- Jesus Christ.” Steve gasped as he got a look of her. “What happened to your face?”

The entire left side of her jaw was covered in a rich, purple bruise. As she smiled, she clearly did so more on the right side than the other. “Why don’t you ask Mr. I-Have-A-Metal-Arm?” She said, pointing to a Bucky.

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky repeated and she tried to smile wider but winced, letting it fall back.

“I know, Buck. Heard you the first, hundred, times.” She attempted to reassure him although it had little effect. “You better buy me something amazing to cover this up tho.”

“I don’t think anything can cover that up. That’s brutal.” Natasha said, her nose scrunching up in slight disgust at the vicious color of Y/N’s jaw.

“Thanks.” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes, and taking a seat by the table. Vision left the stove and came to her aid with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “And an honest thank you to you, Vis.”

“You want some ice for that?” Tony tried to help as Y/N grabbed the chilled glass of orange juice in front of her and held it against her jaw. She shook her head subtly and shut her tired eyes, propping her elbows on the table and leaning her head against her free hand.

“I’m good.” She said and pulled herself together, opening her eyes widely to wake up and taking a sip of the orange juice already by her mouth. “I’ll avoid training sessions with Bucky for awhile though.”

“I’m s-”

“Cut it. I’m alive, aren’t I? Still breathing. Heart’s still pumping.” She said and shoved a fork full of bacon in her mouth. The breakfast carried on, following up with an overly large glass of chocolate milk on Y/N’s part. They all chatted, bickering as usual, before everyone retreated to their own corner of the Tower  to continue their days separately.

As Y/N made it to her room, there were two knocks on the door. She didn’t have to guess who it was. She knew it was Bucky and she knew he would try to apologize once more.

She pulled the door open and barely had time to confirm it was him before a pair of soft lips crashed upon hers. She staggered backwards and Bucky broke loose, eyes blown wide. “Let me take you out to dinner, as an apology for punching you.”

“And you had to kiss me to ask me out!?” She questioned, out of breath. Bucky shrugged.“

“No, I just wanted to.” He said like it was the most normal thing in the world to walk around kissing.

“Well damn…” She closed the space again and savored another kiss, sighing in relief. She tried to not cause herself too much pain, letting him do most of the moving.

“I’m-”

“Don’t you dare say that word one more time or I swear to god I’ll punch your jaw.” She threatened and he chuckled, lips hovering in front of hers.

“It wouldn’t leave as much as a scratch.” His lips curled around hers, tasting the sweetness lingering to them.

“You’re so cocky, you know that? It’s tiring.”