only thing i could come up with

dragonfishdreams  asked:

I have heard it said that 'the fox knows many small things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.' Thoughts on this saying?

What I catch from this is that the hedgehog takes only one straight reliable road, whereas the fox takes multiple roads. Looking at this as an attack and defence situation; the fox has many methods of attack, and the hedgehog has one form of defence, but that single form of defence could block all of the fox’s multiple attacks. Relating it to real life, you can bring up “Jack of all trades, master of none”. You are good at multiple things but not a master at any of them, whereas someone else comes along and they are a master of one thing, but not really good at anything else. Personally, I’m not sure which side I stand on yet but that’s my take on it. I could be looking too deep into it, or the true meaning just flew over my head 😂.

More Tairen than Tame

Written for Steggy Week 2017, Day 2: AU or Crossover

Okay, this week I’ve been re-reading a kind of ridiculous (and tbqh kinnnnnnda problematic) high-fantasy romance series by C.L. Wilson called the Tairen Soul series. So while wracking my brain to come up with a new AU or crossover for our favorite battle-couple, this world is kind of the only thing that kept sticking (though if I could figure out how to explain Peggy as both a Slayer and still serving the SSR—omg with Phillips as her Watcher?!— I totally would get that written for today.)
So! This high-fantasy AU takes place in Eloran, and steals heavily from the world C.L. Wilson created. There’s soulmates! And magical races! Steve is at least part-Elvish and Peggy’s full-blooded Fey. The original series has this whole race of fierce cat-dragons called tairen (that are like, kin to the Fey), though they won’t actually show up in this particular fic. And you’re really gonna have to suspend your disbelief that “Steve” and “Peggy” are names you would find in such a genre…


Summary: Margaret ven'Carter of the Fey has lived her life shunned by her people for centuries, cast out of her homeland for not following the path of the shei'dalin, the women healers of her race. Now known simply as Peggy, she is a solitary creature, keeping to herself to protect those around her, not to mention her very soul. That is, until Steve Rogers, her impossible truemate, the other half of her soul, stumbles into her campsite and her world changes in a flash of fire and ice.


Margaret ven’Carter watched from the treeline as the man inspected her camp. She’d drawn an invisibility and redirection weave around it before she’d set off to fish nearby Lake Dorian for her breakfast, but somehow this man had broken through. He appeared strong, with broad shoulders and a trim waist clad in a simple tunic, his well-muscled legs encased in simple leather leggings. A fighter of some kind, for he had a shield strapped to his back. But if he were some scout, he was a long way from his regiment, with an overflowing rucksack to show for it. No short distance runner would carry such a heavy pack.

So he was alone then. She’d yet to see his face, hidden by a cowl. But he was straight-backed and moved with the ease and sureness of youth. And now he was examining her things, bent over the pan she’d left by the fire to prepare her food. Her anger sparked to the surface, and she had to clench her hands tightly to keep herself from sending a powerful blast of Air to force this man from her campsite. She wanted to learn how he’d slipped past her defenses, first. Patience was not her strong suit, but she would try to wait him out.

That was her plan, but then the man turned to the small pack that held Peggy’s most valuable possession in this world. She could no longer stand it, and launched herself out of the cover of the trees and onto his back. She left her blades sheathed, but wove a quick spell of Air and Earth to propel herself with more force and move the ground beneath the intruder’s feet so he fell to his knees. He gave a cry of surprise but recovered quickly, rolling onto his back and away from her as he called magic of his own to force her hands from the straps holding his shield. They were each back on their feet in an instant, crouched low to the ground, ready to crash together again, when Peggy met his eyes for the first time.

It was like being doused in ice and fire at the same moment. Suddenly all the barriers she’d constructed around and within her mind slammed open and a blindingly bright light flashed before her eyes. Peggy fell to her knees and across from her, the man did the same. As quickly as it began, the light receded, but as it did, Peggy felt a new presence within her mind. She could sense the consciousness of the man in front of her in a way that she had never sensed another being before. His name was Steve. Understanding stole her breath. “Shei’tan,” she whispered.

He raised his bright blue eyes to her gaze and they flashed as he answered, “Shei’tani,” before they rolled back into his head and he passed out.

Read the rest of Chapter 1 at AO3.

anonymous asked:

I came out to my mom in accident. We were arguing about something and she brought it up and the rainbow come pourin out my mouth. She, being an avid christian woman, did the only right thing and told me i could not be gay and that there was obviously a demon inside me. Long story short though, she totally lives her life as if it doesn't exist and continues to cringe and scoff and rage at anything lgbt related. Its fun.

ughhhhhh once again fuck the fake ass evangelicals

Respect Her "No"

As a 19 year old girl, I was shy and meek and very bad at standing up for myself. I worked at a Denny’s with a lot of creepy and rude customers, and one day a regular customer came in and he asked to borrow my pen. I was the only hostess on duty at the time, and the host stand only had one pen, which I very much needed almost constantly. We usually had more pens but servers would often lose theirs and come raid the host station for replacements. This particular pen was very excellent and I guarded the thing with my life… you all know the kind of pen I’m talking about, super ergonomic design and never runs out of ink and writes on any surface. This pen wasn’t going anywhere, not if I could help it.


Well anyway I told the customer, “oh I’m sorry, I’ve only got the one pen right now and I need it”. He said “don’t worry I’ll give it back when I’m done” and just took it. Well I sucked at standing up for myself and they drilled all that ‘customer is always right’ nonsense into our brains pretty well so I just resigned myself to having to track down another pen. (Not an easy task in that restaurant, there was some kind of black hole for pens there.)


Well another customer, a woman in her 40’s, saw the whole thing go down. After the guy had seated himself, the woman pulled a pen out of her purse, I thought she was just going to give it to me but she actually walked over to the guy, snagged my pen out of his hand, and smacked her pen down on the table and said very audibly “Respect her no.” And then she brought me my pen back. I was so touched by this simple gesture of coming to my defense that I paid for her lunch myself. The whole thing took less than 3 minutes but it honestly taught me so much, it taught me the importance of standing your ground, defending other women, and not letting men get away with ignoring your No. If a man can’t even respect a no on something as simple as borrowing a pen, how could he be trusted to respect you on even bigger issues? Anyway I just think about that incident a lot, the importance of standing your ground and not letting men feel entitled to take whatever they want. Bless that woman, I hope she is having a really excellent life.

what really fucked my up about 13 reasons why was alex.

in the ambulance scene, when they say it was a 17 years old boy with a gunshot in the head, i thought it was clay, i thought it was justin, i thought it was bryce… but alex never occurred to me

and yet, he gave all the signs. the way that he talked about jessica being the only good thing in his life, the pool, the fact that he didn’t care about being beaten, that relationship with his father, he said he had no plans for the future, he wouldn’t mind to give all the truth away, the guilt…

it was all there. and yet, i didn’t see it. 

the show is about suicide. the show is about how we should be able to identify its signs. i was angry because none could see what hannah was going through and how they didn’t see it coming. and yet, i didn’t see it coming neither.

this fucks me up really hard.

the-queen-sees-all  asked:

I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?

The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.

Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.

“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”

“Harry,” he said.

“How’d you get that scar?” she said.

“Car accident.”

“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”

Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”

She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”

-

Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.

“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”

“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”

“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”

“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”

“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”

“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”

“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”

-

Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.

He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.

She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.

Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I wanted to know.”

“I’m still sorry.”

-

The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.

“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”

“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.

As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)

Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”

“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.

“But what if I do?”

“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”

“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”

“See how dedicated I am to you.”

She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”

She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”

Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”

Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.

-

(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.

The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.

“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”

“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.

Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)

-

On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”

The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”

“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”

“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”

“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”

“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.

-

When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.

-

Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.

In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.

The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.

-

In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.

The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.

Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.

Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.

He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.

When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.

But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.

Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.

Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.

Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.

“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.

For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.

“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”

“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.

He dropped the Stone.

-

When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.

He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”

He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”

He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”

“You’re not real,” Harry said.

“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”

“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.

She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.

Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”

“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”

“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.

“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”

-

After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.

“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”

Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”

“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.

“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.

“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.

My baby boy Takashi Shirogane (*´◡`) I’ll draw the others soon | Redbubble 
(Keith, Hunk)

I never pranked my parents again after the incident.

by reddit user Eigengraulogy

I was 11 years old when it happened.

As a kid, I knew that something wasn’t quite right with the events that unfolded at the time. Even though it was never brought up again under any circumstances by either one of my parents, it’s something that always stuck with me. I can’t say it’s a memory that I tried to suppress seeing as it was always there at the back of my mind, bothering me like an itch that wouldn’t go away unless properly scratched.

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I decided to take screenshots of “war of hormone” and post it here but while I was taking the screenshots I noticed something and decided to take screenshots of “it” instead..

So after these three screenshots I noticed something..

We all know how this kid’s tongue is always out but the thing is…he only did it few times during the dance practice while Jiminie here was doing it literally every five seconds…

…..

The only explanation I could come up with is that Jimin perhaps suffer from a disease called “I can’t keep my tongue inside of my mouth bc rude is my middle name”..

1 like/reblog = 1 pray 

Some Strings Attached

Ugh so there was a post going around that I’ve now long since misplaced but it was like “I just saw you go upstairs with someone else and I know we’re only fuck buddies but I’m gonna go punch them in the face” and I was HERE FOR IT. If somebody remembers the post, link me. In the meantime, have some Sterek getting together fluff.

“Just tell Derek you want to date him,” Scott says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Stiles bugs his eyes and flails his hands in wordless frustration, because the correct response to this patently ludicrous advice eludes him. He had come for sympathy, not pie-in-the-sky delusions. “Scott. Bro,” he finally gasps. “How could you even suggest that in good faith? No way! Bad plan!” He slashes his arms in a demonstrative X. “The only reason we’re even hooking up is that I made it super clear I was down to fuck, no strings attached! I’m not ruining a good thing by announcing to Derek Hale that I’m 85% in love with him.”

“Why?” Scott genuinely seems confused, the sweet summer child. After falling into a happy triad with Allison and Isaac after their first semester at UCLA, he doesn’t really understand the definition of “unrequited.”

Stiles turns his attention to a hanging thread on his t-shirt, sourly tugging it loose. “He’s out of my league. I mean, with the baseball, and the smarts, and the sarcasm, and those eyes…” he breaks off with a sigh. The last thing he needs to do is remind himself of how gone he is on Derek. “Just, he’s popular. Dictionary definition of too cool for school. And the three people he actually deigns to hang out with here are all just as cool and good looking as he is. Do I need to remind you I’m not? I’m a gawky, nerdy Sophomore. I’m lucky to even be his fuck-buddy.”

Scott makes a face, incredulous. “I dunno, he must like you well enough if he’s still sleeping with you after all this time. What’s it been, six months? And you guys hang out, too, you’re always telling me about how easy it is to chat with him after you bone. So it’s not just sex.”

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, but it’s not…”


“… a real relationship,” Derek says into the phone, hearing full well the heavy dejection in his voice. So sue him; the admission is more than a little depressing. “He just wants to be fuck buddies.”

“How do you know?” Laura asks reasonably. “Maybe this Stiles person would be interested in dating you, too. No offence, but you’re not great at reading people. I mean, he’s interested in chilling with you even after you hook up, and clearly he enjoys the physical aspect. Did he actually ever say he wasn’t looking for more?”

Derek heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see over the phone. “Yep. About two minutes after the first time we slept together he said, ‘no strings attached, obviously.’ So, you know, pretty safe bet that it’s no strings attached.”

“Oh,” Laura says. For once she doesn’t have a snappy comeback.

“Oh,” Derek agrees. Dejectedly.

She gives him a sympathetic little hum, and then asks, “and he’ll definitely be at the sorority barbecue?”

“Yeah.” Stiles and his broad shoulders and his long fingers are definitely going to be at the party.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” his sister says softly. “If you really like him, and he’s just looking to get laid…”

Derek groans. Not go, and give up a chance to hook up with Stiles? Smart, maybe, but not something he’s capable of doing.

The problem is, he’s liked Stiles forever. Or at least since he first saw him, laughing uproariously and running around with his friends with an actually broom between his legs, playing “Quidditch.” Derek would have been way too embarrassed to do something like that on the front lawn, but Stiles made it seem like the most effortlessly awesome thing a person could get up to.

No, compared to Stiles, Derek is practically a social recluse, an awkward jock with only about three people who he gets along with at all. Stiles definitely doesn’t want to get saddled with a boyfriend like him. He’s lucky they’re even hooking up after all this time.

“Derek, I mean it,” Laura says. “Look out for yourself for once.”

“I know, I know,” Derek grumbles. “But it’s not my fault he’s…”

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{PART 27} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As death enters the room to claim a soul; so does life. Who shall live and who shall die - as you begin to wonder…is this really the end?

“And as he looked upon her face amidst the madness, he saw everything he held close depart his world; while she slipped into the next”

|| Warning: This chapter contains mentions of blood and some scenes that readers may find upsetting ||

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

{Part 1} // {Part 26} {Part 27} {Part 28}

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This is it. This is Kara’s absolute worst nightmare coming true. This is Kara Danvers and Supergirl—the mild mannered reporter and the last true Daughter of Krypton—stripped down to their barest selves, leaving in their stead Kara Zor-El: an orphan, a refugee, a scared child far from home. Staring at that tank for two seconds, seeing Alex’s body floating listlessly—lifelessly—is that little girl coming face-to-face with her greatest fear.

Alex, who Kara loves more than anyone in the universe—more than her last living blood relation in the galaxy, more than her boyfriend, more than anyone—has given up so much for Kara. Alex sacrificed everything, has gone above and beyond what should have been asked of a child when an alien invaded her home and was forced to call her “sister”. There is only one last thing that Alex could give to Kara and that is her life and in this moment, Kara sees that become a reality.

I can only imagine, as a being that has fire in her eyes and ice in her lungs, that she had never felt more powerless than she did in those two seconds.

Because Kara doesn’t just see Alex dying; she sees Krypton exploding all over again. She’s trying to remember the last time that she hugged Alex, just like when she is alone and staring at stars that are not her own, Kara tries to remember the last time she hugged her mother before the universe stole her away from her. Kara stares at Alex and all she sees is her world ending. All. Over. Again.

Those two seconds probably felt like a lifetime to Kara—like lying in the abyss of the Phantom Zone, the dark and cold of space pressing in on her, threatening to consume her.

I love and respect that this was an important Sanvers episode and of Kara and Maggie coming together in their love for Alex, but let’s not downplay the significance of this moment for Kara.

Ace Keith Headcanons
  • He didn’t know it back then. He didn’t care about it. Ignored all his classmates who were passing around lewd magazines and just continued browsing why on earth pluto was no longer a planet. The injustice! 
  • When his classmates at the Garrison asked him if he ever had a girlfriend 
    “Never had one.” 
    “A boyfriend then?” 
    “Nope. None of that either.”
    “But why?”
    “I was not aware it was a requirement, Charles.”
    Others thought he was a snob and a bit snarky after that.
  • At night he just read books. Sometimes he drew things like spaceships and alien warships. He loved outer space and he was going to be an ace pilot and be the youngest pilot to go on a mission. His roommate gave up inviting him to parties to meet possible mates. “Have fun.” “You too.”
  • When he wanted to be alone, he snuck up to the rooftop just so he could trace the constellations and get more inspiration for his drawings. He liked the quiet and the natural light the moon gave him to see what he was drawing on his skethpad.
    “What are you doing in a place like this at this hour, cadet?”
    Keith looked up to see the one and only Garrison Golden Boy.
    “I could say the same for you, Sir.” He got back to drawing.
    Shiro sat beside him and just watched him draw in silence. 
  • It became a thing. Shiro finding Keith on the rooftop, reading or drawing. They usually didn’t even talk, until Shiro broke their usual silence.
    “How come you’re always up here? Why are you not with your friends? It’s not everyday you get to be in the city and have fun.”
    Keith shrugged. “Hmm. Not really my type of fun or thing.”
    “Huh. Interesting.”
  • They became friends after that. Their feet dangling on the rooftop as Shiro would tell Keith a joke or something that happened to him in class. Keith didn’t draw all the time, he’d have the sketchpad on his lap and just laugh and tell Shiro things too.
  • Their conversation led to talking about crushes one time, because that topic was always interesting.
    “Had my first crush back in elementary,” Shiro laughed. “A bit silly to be honest. Then she liked me back and we became a couple.”
    “Wow. That’s so… young.” Keith chuckled.
    “How about you? Who was your first crush?”
    Keith furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve never had one.”
    “What?” Shiro asked, a bit scandalized at the revelation. “No way!”
    “I just haven’t seen anyone that way, I guess. If it happens, then it happens. But to be honest, I don’t think anyone will even like me since I’m not into that or see anyone like that.” Keith forced a fake cough. 
    Shiro was silent for a while and then he smiled. “Keith, do you know the word for that?”
    “The word for what?” Keith looked confused.
    “The word for what I think you are,” Shiro smiled fondly. “It’s asexual. Or ace for short. It’s basically someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction.”
    Keith blinked. “Oh.” Then he smiled. “I like that. Ace. What a nice word.”
    “It is. You’re literally an Ace Pilot.” Shiro laughed.
    “Oh, shut up.” Keith nudged Shiro playfully, causing his skethpad to fall.
  • The next few months they were on the rooftop, Keith started the talk.
    “I think I have my first crush now.”
    “Oh really? Who is it?” Shiro raised an eyebrow, curious.
    “It’s basically someone you admire, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    Keith nodded. “Okay, I’m sure it’s a crush then.”
    “Keith! Who is it? Oh my god. Don’t kill me this way, man. I must know!”
    Keith laughed. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you’ll know one day, Shiro.”
    Shiro sat back, thinking that was probably enough of an answer. “Okay, so you have this crush on someone now. What do you want to do?”
    “I might want to hold his hand one day. If he’d let me.”
    Shiro smiled at his friend. “I hope you get to hold that boy’s hand, Keith.”
  • A few months later, Keith asked Shiro if he could hold his hand.

thexenobiologist  asked:

Your recent post about touch tanks reminded me of something I've always wondered: why do the sharks and rays in them actively seek out contact? They don't just seem to coincidentally bump into hands or only go after food, so what makes them want to get touched?

For years, I’ve thought, if I had a research grant, this would be what I would study. The behavior of sharks and rays in touchpools. 

Where I was proctoring them, we were taught we could never say that the sharks and rays ‘liked’ the interaction. All the species in the tank were eusocial species by nature - cownose rays live in large schools, and the smaller reef sharks are often found in fairly high concentrations in the wild and go as far as to sleep in piles in the mangrove roots. So, the messaging we were taught was that the rays and sharks didn’t find soft contact with human hands inherently negative because they were used to casual social contact from conspecifics (in contrast to like, solitary pelagic sharks who only get touched by food, mates, or things trying to eat them). As far as messaging went, I liked that way of doing it, because it wasn’t anthropomorphic and it allowed us to do some education about the natural behaviors of our animals while we explained. 

Except for that part where, as a behaviorist who ended up spending a lot of time at that touch tank (it was the only one I could work for a period of time when I had an injury I couldn’t get wet) that really obviously wasn’t the whole story. I started noticing the same animals coming to the front repeatedly, and slowing down and rising up under certain hands (generally still, flat, calm, mid-way down the water) while they’d dive deeper under others (generally children’s hands, ones moving a lot, or those that were hovering just out of the water). I watched rays rostrum-bump hands that they’d slowed down under but that hadn’t reached down to pet them, and I watched other rays specifically circle back to a couple of hands multiple times - sometimes to the point of circling back as soon as they were out of reach. There was obviously something going on in terms of preferences and decision making with the fish and the hands they chose to interact with, but no amount of casual observation and anecdotes does a scientifically valid hypothesis make. 

Point is, I don’t think we know. I personally believe that in really well designed tanks like the one I worked, where they had a huge amount of non-touch area and depth and current and natural habitat to spend time in, that there was definitely some preference for interaction with hands that behaved a certain type of way. I can’t tell you why and I’ll probably never have the money/time to take over an entire touch tank and quantify that hypothesis, though. 

anonymous asked:

Forgive me if you've been asked this already but at what moment do you think Clarke fell in love with Lexa, or realized she was in love with her? I believe Eliza had trouble answering this at a con (I think she said it was before the bow though) so I'm wondering what you think.

Mmm that’s hard to say, and honestly, that’s kinda what I love about it. Because you can’t always exactly pinpoint the moment you fall in love with someone, right? Maybe it’s a feeling that grows gradually but unstoppable, maybe it’s like a wave hitting you at once, it varies. And that’s how I think it was for Clarke.

The way I see it, it was sudden for her at first and then everything slowed down and it naturally developed. It wasn’t love yet in the beginning, but there was definitely a realization that she had feelings for Lexa. Just look at her face after storming out of Lexa’s tent in 2x14. 

Why else would she looked so bothered? If she had just been upset about their argument she would have had an angry face. Instead she looks like she’s literally trying to physically restrain her feelings, whatever they may be. She takes that deep, shaky breath in an attempt to collect herself because, what the hell just happened inside that tent? Did Lexa really just confess she has feelings for me? And why does it affect me so much? What am I feeling? This is what I think is going through her mind. And then of course we have the confirmation of this, when she gladly replies to Lexa’s kiss. Even after she rejects her, there is no indication of that being a definitive rejection. There is no feeling of “I’m sorry, but I don’t reciprocate.” Clarke is not ready for a relationship, and it’s right that she was honest with Lexa, but she rejects her in literally the softest way possible, AND leaves the door open for the future. Not yet. That means she already sees herself considering a relationship with Lexa in the future, after healing, when she’s finally ready. And look at how tender and somewhat tamely longing her gaze is even after she rejected Lexa.

She is definitely aware of her feelings for Lexa here. But then the betrayal happens and ah, they take 46 steps back.

Now, of course, Lexa’s betrayal causes Clarke to close herself off. Clarke is angry at Lexa, she’s angry at herself, she’s in pain, every other feeling pales in comparison. And obviously, so much of Clarke’s suffering is tied to what Lexa did, so it’s definitely not a surprise that romance is out of the question when they first meet again. Clarke’s pain is consuming her, she is definitely not thinking about whatever she and Lexa had. And yet…

This isn’t a romantic moment by any means. But we’re talking about Clarke realizing she loves Lexa, and I don’t think we can’t gloss over this moment. When I say that I don’t romanticize this scene, it’s because this is not a cute moment. This isn’t a “oh my God, she loves her!” moment, this moment is sad. It’s painful, it’s heartbreaking, but it’s so damn important. Clarke can’t kill Lexa here. How much easier would it be for her to shut her heart out entirely, to blame Lexa for everything and just kill her without feeling anything? I bet in that moment, a part of Clarke wants that. But Clarke feels, and she feels for Lexa. She has these feelings and they won’t go away, not even when she’s at her lowest. So yeah, not a romantic moment, but definitely essential to understand Clarke’s complicated feelings for Lexa.

After the bow, Clarke is a little more trusting towards Lexa, but she’s definitely still closed off, she’s not ready to expose her heart yet. And we get to the “I’m doing it for my people” episode, 3x04. Right from the very beginning, Clarke spends the entire episode trying to find a way to keep Lexa safe, to protect her. But every single time she voices her concerns to Lexa or hell, even Titus, her preoccupation feels far more personal than political. She’s worried, she’s agitated, she even seems angry that Lexa won’t listen to her and step away from the duel. It’s a crescendo of apprehension and frustration and anxiousness as every single one of Clarke’s attempts fails, crescendo that culminates in an emotional explosion.

The second gif is particularly telling. Titus interrupts them, the moment is gone and Clarke finds herself having to face what just happened. Look at her face, at how she looks away from Lexa and sucks a breath through her teeth. She’s restraining her feelings, but she’s a little too late this time. And it’s not only Lexa who is shaken by Clarke’s emotional outburst, it’s Clarke herself too. She doesn’t catch herself in time and now she can’t pretend with herself that those feelings aren’t there. I think this is when the true first “shift” after the betrayal happens. Clarke wants to keep Lexa at arm’s length but Lexa might very well die that same day and, despite any resolution she had, the thought terrifies Clarke. And she’s so scared that she’s never going to see Lexa again that…

I could write an essay on all the emotions Clarke experiences before and throughout and at the end of Lexa’s duel, but the gist of it is that during this tense moment, with Lexa’s life on the line, she can’t bring herself to hide her feelings. It’s all there, on her face. 

Only when things settle down she is able to collect herself again. Lexa comes visit her that night and we see Clarke pull her walls up again. “I was just doing what was right for my people.” BUT! Even if Clarke is not ready to open up her heart again, that scene is infused with intimacy. Even Clarke’s “rejection” is filled with emotion.

Clarke is the opposite of cold here. The way I see it, she is pulling away because she’s realizing she’s close to giving in, but she’s not yet ready for that. It’s so clear that here Lexa is talking about what happened at Mount Weather too, this is another quiet apology that Clarke obviously recognizes. If she went with her feelings, Clarke would have to admit that she does understand Lexa, that in her heart maybe she’s already forgiven her. But in that moment it’s too overwhelming, so she looks away and avoids the conversation, avoids Lexa’s gaze, avoids having to focus on her feelings.

She literally keeps having to look away because things get too intense but at the same time there’s a tenderness in her eyes that she can’t hide. And once Lexa is gone and she can breathe… bam

All the feelings she restrained, everything she tried to hide merely minutes ago hits her full force. I said I think Clarke’s love for Lexa developed gradually, naturally, but if I had to pick a specific moment and say that’s when Clarke realized she’s in love with Lexa, it would be this one.

By the time we get to 3x06, I do believe Clarke knows and has accepted she is in love with Lexa, but she’s still struggling to admit it out loud, especially to Lexa. That episode happens roughly 7-10 days after the events of Hakeldama, and when we see Clarke and Lexa again, they are closer than ever. There is a sense of intimacy, of almost domesticity between them. They are comfortable with each other’s presence. There’s not really a reason for them being in the same room in that scene: Lexa fell asleep while reading and Clarke is drawing (there are other sheets in her folder, which makes me think she was drawing other things before focusing on Lexa). They don’t have to talk or interact, they simply are together.

When Lexa wakes up from the nightmare, Clarke doesn’t hesitate to jump next to her and comfort her, with soothing touches and calming, reassuring words. And then we get to the moment Lexa notices the drawing. A lot has been said about Lexa’s face, but instead look at Clarke’s.

This is the exact opposite of what I was talking about in 3x04. Lexa sees the drawing and is taken aback. That she doesn’t know whether she should hope for anything is another story, but the look she gives Clarke is very telling. And Clarke doesn’t avoid it. Yes, her first instinct is to play it off as something meaningless. “Uh, that’s not- it’s not finished yet.” But then Lexa looks at her, confused, surprised, a tiny bit hopeful, and Clarke meets her gaze and they just stare at each other. Look at that little pause she does before lifting her eyes. That’s when she chooses not to hide. As I said, I think that here Clarke has come to terms with her feelings for Lexa, but here for the first time, she doesn’t hide them from Lexa. Her look is just as telling as Lexa’s. They aren’t saying a word and this is one of their most honest, important conversations. Clarke is silent, but her eyes are speaking, her untold feelings are there, and maybe letting Lexa know isn’t so unfathomable anymore. Maybe, maybe Clarke this is the closest Clarke has been to being ready.

So this is what i think. The way I see it, it’s tricky and complicated and simply beautiful.

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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And then all of a sudden you find that all your broken pieces start coming back together. This fits here and that goes there, and little by little you start to build back up. You can breathe again, and remember when that felt like it’ll be the last thing you ever do? Look at you now. And even if it only took one person to be the reason for the storm in your eyes, you finally realize that another could be the reason why you never give up…

I guess it really all does happen for a reason, the good and the bad.

—  c.f. // “I told you better was coming”
2

“I used to get really frustrated by the child-star stigma that I would get when I spoke to journalists, and I think it’s because I lived this very sheltered life, where I’d have a chauffeur come and pick me up to take me to the studios. I’d only see this very specific group of people who I was doing these films with. I’d get back in my car and go home and do the same thing the next day. It was really only once Harry Potter ended and I went to university that it hit me how unusual a position I was in, how different my life could have been.”

anonymous asked:

Imagine: small time YouTuber doing a video about learning how to ice skate. Keeps falling, asks the only person on the rink who looks like he knows what he's doing. Post a video afterwards and wonders why it blows up. Finding out it was olympic gold medalist Yuuri Katsuki. Cue flashbacks of funny things that were said: "Wow you're really good! You could be an olympian!"-"i could be" etc.

omg yes! And can you imagine Viktor coming to pick Yuuri up and the youtuber being like ‘oh wow that’s your husband? Is he as good a skater as you’ and Yuuri justs looks right into the camera and goes ‘no’ and winks