pure grits

Patty Jenkins Fires Back at James Cameron Over ‘Wonder Woman’ Criticism

In an interview published Thursday by The Guardian, Cameron said Hollywood’s “self-congratulatory back-patting” over “’Wonder Woman’ has been so misguided.”

He continued: “She’s an objectified icon, and it’s just male Hollywood doing the same old thing! I’m not saying I didn’t like the movie but, to me, it’s a step backwards.”

Cameron, who has featured strong women in leading roles, then praised his Sarah Connor character from “Terminator 2.” He said Connor “was not a beauty icon. She was wrong, she was troubled, she was a terrible mother, and she earned the respect of the audience through pure grit.”

hey guys if you’re having a bad day then let me offer some solutions, fake sugar pine style

• autumn hates having her nails painted. they’re always bitten down to the nub anyway so she never found it useful to paint them.

• cib, however is not having that. he’s always one of the last to leave the warehouse with autumn (besides steve but that man doesn’t Sleep) and he’s been taking note of how sad she seems when she thinks no one is paying attention.

• cib is always paying attention.

• it’s futile sneaking up on autumn, so he just slides himself in front of her station one night, knocking over her notes and barely missing her laptop.

• autumn’s signature eyebrow is already raised before cib can even wiggle the small black bottle in front of her. she shakes her head. he shakes the bottle.

• ‘it’ll make you feel better,’ he signs clumsily, and she huffs, a signature autumn laugh.

• ‘i’m not upset,’ she signs back, but cib isn’t having that. and autumn is kind of too tired to fight back. she’s always too tired. so she doesn’t argue when cib plops the pen out of her hand and gets to prepping.

• and autumn’s never really been taken care of so tenderly before. cib is very gentle with her hands, and it’s dry against calloused, but it’s warm all the same.

• all of his attention is on her hands, and autumn can’t help but feel the heat of cib’s hands reach the pit of her stomach. she lets herself smile, and it’s not forced. it’s the most natural one she’s felt in a while.

• cib sees it spread out of the corner of his eye, but he lets autumn have the moment to herself.

Until I Turn to Dust

(A/N) I can’t believe it took me until my last fic to include Declan and Matthew smh
It’s been so much fun writing for pynch week this year!!!! The prompts were fun and it was cool to see what everyone else’s takes on them were as well~
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING, COMMENTING, AND PROVIDING SUCH AMAZING SUPPORT IN GENERAL I CAN’T THANK YOU ALL ENOUGH <3 You gave me the motivation I needed to actually sort of stay on schedule xD;;

I really hope you enjoy the final fic, and thank you so much again!! :’)

P.S. The Script song I used for the quote and the title of this chapter is very pynch in my opinion, please check it out!!


I fell for you and I never got up

I stay here forever ‘til I turn to dust

Just take every minute make it last for life

24/7 baby 3-6-5.

-“The Energy Never Dies” by The Script


Every moment of his waking life, and often his sleeping one too, Ronan feels like he has accidentally stumbled upon happiness.

He never thought he would meet someone like Gansey, who sticks with him even through all of Ronan’s worst hours, who was and always will be the friend that Ronan has needed more than anything. He never thought he would meet someone like Blue, who challenges him every day for being an asshole by also being an asshole, something he didn’t realize he loves as much as he does until she came into his life. He never thought he would start to get along with Declan, that he would actually maybe look forward to the times when all three Lynch brothers can be together.

And most of all, he never would’ve thought in a million years that he would meet someone like Adam Parrish. Someone who is so bright and sarcastic, someone who was given the shittiest hand in the entire world and through pure grit and determination got himself to someplace better. Someone who can and dares to fight back with Ronan but then can also pick him out of the dust and remains of his worst fears and give him something to hold onto. He’s been in love with Adam for two whole years, and not once during that entire time did he think he would ever get to kiss him. That Adam would kiss him back. That Adam goddamn Parrish would say yes when he asked him out.

But he did.

It hits Ronan especially hard in the early hours of the morning, when he’s watching Adam sleep peacefully beside him, that he is so incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon this kind of pure and relentless happiness. Just earlier, Adam had let Ronan leave kisses all over his body, especially his hands, and he’d blown Ronan so hard that minutes after he could still see nothing but stars and Adam Adam Adam. Ronan learned that Adam looks gorgeous with sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead and with that tiny little smile that Adam saves just for him. Ronan also learned that Adam is extremely ticklish on his ribcage, something that he plans to take full advantage of in the future.

He feels blessed every moment that Adam Parrish has let him be this close to him, for allowing him to love him and to be loved in return. Ronan is closer to Adam than anyone else has been before, he’s pretty sure, and it blows his mind.

It’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

When he wakes up that Sunday morning, Adam is practically sprawled on top of Ronan—not an unusual occurrence, considering that Adam’s mattress is the smallest thing in the entire universe—and Ronan has never felt so content and happy. There’s drool drying on his shoulder where Adam’s head lolls and one of his knobby knees is digging uncomfortably into Ronan’s thigh, but he never wants to move again. Adam smells like his pine-scented aftershave and oil and his warmth against Ronan is perfect enough to make him think he died and went to heaven.

Because this would be his heaven – getting to lie in bed with Adam for all of eternity, drawing his fingers gently through his incredibly silky hair and admiring his beautiful hands.

There is no place he would rather be so he refuses to get up, even though he knows Declan and Matthew will be here soon for church and that he actually needs to put a suit on. Instead he entertains himself by counting the freckles on Adam’s shoulder blades. He keeps losing track and having to start over again, but he’s at ninety-three when someone knocks concisely on the door, rousing Adam.

It’s obviously Declan, so Ronan stubbornly remains in bed as he calls out, “It’s open!”

Declan walks in, scans the room for a moment, and then swears and puts a hand over his eyes. “Jesus, you didn’t warn me you were indecent!”

“I’m always indecent,” Ronan snorts as a very sleepy Adam rolls off him and nearly onto the floor in an attempt to get up. “Relax, it’s not like we’re naked.”

A blessing that only occurred because Adam had predicted last night that they would not be able to wake up and get dressed before Ronan’s brothers appeared. Ronan loves how right Adam is about these things.

“What time is it?” Adam asks between a loud yawn that gives Ronan an amazing view of his teeth and bruised lips.

For this first time in his entire life, Ronan kind of wants to skip church.

“Nine – Ronan should’ve been ready ten minutes ago,” Declan says irritably, hands on his hips.

“We’re above the church, it’ll literally take us ten seconds to get down there,” Ronan argues as he pulls himself off of Adam’s mattress and pokes around the room in search of his dress pants. He knows he brought them to Adam’s place last night, but he lost track of them in the heat of the moment.

“And yet we’re still going to be late!” Declan snaps.  

Ronan ignores him and, finally finding his pants, starts to get dressed. Matthew, ever the ball of sunshine and never one to be deterred by his older brothers’ bickering, dashes into the apartment and nearly tackles Adam to the floor in what must be a spine-crushing hug. “Adam, my man! Are you joining us today?”

“No, I have some homework to catch up on,” Adam says as he awkwardly pats Matthew’s head. The idea of church has always been a little bit uncomfortable for Adam, Ronan knows, but he’s pretty sure he’s the only one who picks up on the uncertainty in his tone. “Say hi to Ms. Bertha for me, though.”

Ronan snorts loudly. “Ms. Bertha! Everything’s always about Ms. Bertha.”

He doesn’t actually have anything against the old lady; she’s been kind to Adam, like secretly leaving food on his doorstep or bringing him clothes she convinces him no one else will take, methods that Ronan greatly approves of. It’s just that every time he talks to her now she asks him things like: “How is Adam today?” or “Are you treating Adam well, Ronan? That boy deserves the world.” And while Ronan agrees, it’s fucking annoying; he hates having to talk about his feelings for Adam, especially to other people. It’s embarrassing.

Adam, knowing all of this, just smirks at him. His bedhead and the still sleepy look in his eyes makes Ronan want to pounce him. “You jealous, Lynch?”

“No, why? Should I be? Didn’t know you were into old hags, Parrish.”

Adam throws a pillow at him, making Ronan snicker. Declan scoffs loudly and taps the expensive watch on his wrist impatiently. “As riveting as this old married couple bickering is, we’re late, Ronan!”

“Christ, calm the fuck down will you?” Ronan snaps back, irritably tugging his tie on. “I’m ready, I’m ready – it only took me like two minutes!”

“And yet you can still never bother to be on time!” Declan rolls his eyes before grabbing Matthew and pulling him out the door. “Come on then!”

Ronan’s about to follow, complaining all the way of course, when Adam suddenly grabs his shoulder. “Wait.”

“Can’t get enough of me, Parrish?” Ronan teases, leaning into Adam and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Adam rolls his eyes, but doesn’t gift Ronan with the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, he just starts fixing his tie, his long fingers making deft work of the shimmery fabric. “You’ve been going to church every week of your life and you still can’t tie your tie properly.”

“It’s a fashion statement,” Ronan retorts, deciding to be annoying by attempting to kiss Adam while he straightens his tie.

“You’re a menace,” Adam says, making Ronan cackle. But suddenly Adam is pulling him forward by his tie, leaving a firm kiss on his lips. Ronan stares at him in wonder, his knees starting to wobble at the suggestive smirk on Adam’s face. “You’re much more attractive when your tie is on straight, though.”

“…Why do you always do this when I have to leave, Parrish?” Ronan groans, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Adam’s hair as he kisses him desperately.

“You only ever dress up when you’re going to church – what else am I supposed to do?” Adam teases, but Ronan is about two seconds from deciding to wear a tie for the rest of his life.

He’s about to say this out loud, but Declan’s annoying voice hollers up the stairs, “Ronan! We’re missing the service!”

Ronan growls and kisses Adam one more time before retreating reluctantly. “My suit will still be on afterwards, Parrish,” he says as he pounds down the stairs.

When he looks back up, Adam is leaning on the handrail, grinning at him. His hair is a mess and he’s wearing nothing but one of Ronan’s tanks and his boxers and for the millionth time Ronan is almost drawn back upstairs. “I look forward to it, Lynch.”

Declan pulls him away before he can say anything more, and Adam’s words replaying over and over again in his head is the only thing that keeps him from growling at him for it. Matthew sidles up beside him as they walk into the church, quietly sitting down in a pew near the back, and whispers, “You two are cute.”

Ronan blushes, but he can’t respond to that either because the service has already begun.

The three brothers fall into silence; going to church is the only time the three of them are still and quiet around each other instead of yelling and roughhousing. Ronan tries his best to pay attention to the sermon, but more often than not he finds his mind trailing back to Adam. He wonders what he’s doing right now, if his eyebrows are furrowed in that cute little expression of concentration he has, or what his hands look like working right now…

Every time, he has to forcibly derail his thoughts before they become too graphic for the inside of a church.

When the sermon is over and the space becomes open for confession, Ronan gets in line behind Declan, like he always does. As he’s waiting in line, he thinks about how different of a place he’s in now. He’s spent most of his life hating himself for who he is, either because of his dreams or because of his sexual orientation, and now he has a boyfriend, one that he loves openly and with his entire being. Declan, Matthew, and some nice old ladies (including Ms. Bertha) that are friends of the family know about Adam and don’t shun them for it. It’s amazing to him. He’s in love with another man and no one has struck him down yet.

But he still hasn’t said it out loud. He’s introduced Adam as his boyfriend to a select few people, but he’s never said those three little words, or told anyone else in words how much he loves Adam. Though part of it is because he’s extremely bad at talking about his feelings, he wonders now if part of him had always been afraid that something terrible would happen if he said it out loud. If it would somehow ruin his happiness instead of expanding it.

He thinks of Adam’s sleepy little smile and wonders if it’s time to stop being silent.

He makes up his mind right as Declan comes out of the confession box and pats him on the shoulder. The touch could mean anything, and probably means behave yourself, but Ronan likes to think of it as encouragement.

Ronan shuffles into the confession box and sits down. He can see nothing but the grated window and it makes it easier to pretend he’s alone, even though he can hear the minister breathing on the other end. He takes a deep breath, rubs his hands over his buzzed scalp. Father Arnold is always patient with him, more patient than Ronan thinks anyone in his entire life has ever been with him, and best of all doesn’t push him to talk. They’ve had many confessions where they just sit in silence, Ronan either struggling or disinterested in saying anything. As he takes his time finding his words, he knows that Father Arnold knows it’s him. He always seems to know, even though it’s supposed to be anonymous. To be fair though, Ronan is probably the only person who has sat here for years, fighting with himself to say out loud what he hadn’t even let himself think until recently.

His second secret. The one he’s kept so locked up that for a long time he’d even kept it from himself.

Except, it’s no longer a secret: he’s told himself, and maybe even more terrifying he’s showed Adam. He showed him his deepest darkest secret, and by showing Adam he’d also shown Declan, Gansey, Blue, Matthew, Henry, and those old ladies.

And now, for the first time in a long time, Ronan has something to say.

“Father, I have sinned,” Ronan eventually murmurs, though it still takes him a while to force the words out. He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists at his sides as he continues, “But it doesn’t feel like I’ve sinned.”

Father Arnold doesn’t even sound surprised as he says, “And what is it that you did?”

This part is even harder to admit. Ronan has never uttered it aloud, not even to Adam. He doesn’t know how to form the words in his mouth. He has kept this secret for so long that it’s hard to tell, even though he wants to.

“I kissed Adam Parrish,” he finally blurts out, and he feels free, elated, terrified. Something tight in his chest throbs and releases and suddenly he’s free falling, open and unrestricted but with absolutely no idea where he’s going to land. “You know, the guy who’s renting the room upstairs? I kissed him and asked him out and he said yes. And Father, it’s the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me.”

Realizing belatedly that he shouldn’t have used that particular curse in confession, he mumbles, “Sorry.”

Father Arnold is silent for a long time, silent for so long that the wide open space inside Ronan starts to close up again and suddenly he’s purely afraid that he fucked up. That Father Arnold will break his code and go out and tell the bigots at the church and they’ll be shunned and mocked. Adam could lose his apartment and God Ronan hasn’t thought this through at all…

“Being in love is not a sin, Ronan,” Father Arnold finally says, and the use of his name almost surprises Ronan more than the actual words. “Love is compassion, and compassion is what makes this world our Lord has created great. Compassion is what makes connections, brings you fulfillment, and improves the lives of yourself and those around you. You hold so much compassion within you Ronan that I’m sure it must be hard for you contain it, but it is never a sin. You have found someone that means the world to you, and that is okay, even if he is another boy. You will help each other and grow together, and I sincerely believe that that is a good thing. The Lord is happy as long as you are happy.”

Ronan has no idea what to say to that, his heart is pounding so hard he isn’t sure he can say anything at all, but before he can figure it out Father Arnold continues, “Are you happy, Ronan?”

“Yes, Father,” Ronan replies immediately, his fingers loosening their tight grip on his pants. “Adam makes me so happy that I don’t know how to handle it sometimes.”

“Then you are where you are meant to be, my child,” Father Arnold says, and Ronan can hear the smile in his voice.

He swallows thickly. “Thank you, Father.”

And then he practically runs out of the confession box because he needs to move, to expel the sudden elated energy that explodes inside of him. He ignores Matthew’s surprised expression as he runs out of the church, feeling wild and hyper. He wants to laugh, he wants to cry, he wants to roll on the grass and set the world on fire because he feels so alive. Everything is going his way for once and he feels like he doesn’t have to hide who he is or be afraid.

He’s never felt so light and free in his entire life.

Declan is standing outside waiting for them when Ronan crashes out of the church like a crazy person, and he jumps a little as he looks up from his phone. “Ronan, what the hell—?”

But Ronan ignores him too and pounds up the steps back to Adam’s apartment, not even bothering to knock as he barges his way in. Adam is sitting exactly where he imagined he would be, huddled over his desk, his eyebrows furrowed as his brain works out what appears to be a complicated calculus problem.

He looks up as Ronan enters, not even surprised. The soft smile on his face makes Ronan’s heart soar even higher. “Hey, you. How did it go?”

Ronan doesn’t bother to reply, he doesn’t think he can express the flurry of emotions in his chest, so he just runs over and scoops Adam up in his arms, holding him as tightly as he can and swirling him around in a circle. Adam lets out a surprised yelp, looking frazzled as he grips onto Ronan for dear life. When Ronan sets him back down on the ground, he frowns and presses the back of his hand to Ronan’s forehead, like he’s worried he has a fever. “Are you feeling alright?”

And Ronan laughs, because really, what a question.

“I’ve never felt better in my goddamn life,” Ronan says, and he leans in to kiss Adam breathlessly, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you, Adam.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud, and it feels like a giant weight is lifted from his back. He feels like he could run a marathon, swim across an entire ocean, pull at least ten things out of his dreams at once. Seeing the startled look on Adam’s face, though, he hurries to add, “I don’t expect you to say it back or anything, I just…I just needed you to know.”

For a moment Adam just blinks at him, but then he’s smiling a shy smile and Ronan can’t help but lean in and kiss him again. When they part, Adam draws a finger down Ronan’s jaw and whispers, “I think that’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me.”

This piece of knowledge makes Ronan angry and sad and everything in between, but instead of indulging these emotions he just kisses Adam’s good ear and whispers back, “Then I’ll say it as often as you need to hear it. You deserve to hear it all the goddamn time, Adam.”

“Oh God, please don’t say it that often, I don’t think I can handle that,” Adam laughs shakily, and he’s blushing as Ronan presses another kiss to his lips. That’s fine – he won’t be able to say it that often either, if he’s being realistic. He’ll just throw it in when Adam needs the reminder.

Or when he’s least expecting it. That blush is doing wonders to Ronan’s heart.

“Hey, Matthew’s done – are you two lovebirds ready to go to lunch, or—?” Declan says, walking into the room right as Ronan had parted his lips so Adam could sneak his tongue into his mouth. “Jesus Christ!!”

“Declan, please, we’re above a church,” Adam says, and Ronan drops his head down onto his shoulder as he dissolves into laughter.

Declan opens his mouth and closes it again about three or four times before throwing his arms up into the air and stalking back out of the apartment. Ronan chuckles and hugs Adam’s waist, swaying gently as he kisses his neck. “You know, we could go for lunch, or we could do something else, taking full advantage of my suit…”

“Hm, I’m actually pretty hungry though,” Adam says and to Ronan’s utter dismay steps away from him and walks to his desk, stuffing his wallet and keys into his pockets and heading out the door. Ronan’s still gaping at him when he turns around to face him again, raising an eyebrow. “You coming?”

“Never mind, Parrish, I take it back!” he shouts, but he obviously doesn’t mean it as he runs to Adam, leaving one last kiss on his lips before they walk down to Declan’s Volvo, hand in hand.

 –

A couple of weeks later they’re at the Barns, lazing around in the faint afternoon sunlight that lingers on the living room couch. Ronan is lying on his front, shirtless, and Adam is huddled next to him, absentmindedly tracing his tattoo with his calloused fingers. They’d been talking about meaningless things before and now are perfectly content to sit in silence, just appreciating the other’s warmth and presence. It’s a rare moment when Adam is fully caught up on work and school and Ronan wants to take complete advantage of it.

“Hey, you know?” Adam says quietly after a while. Ronan turns his head to the side to stare at him questioningly. But Adam just shakes his head and laughs to himself, pulling a hand through his sweaty hair. Ronan watches the action with way too much attention and interest. “Shit, that was the stupidest way to start this.”

Ronan is even more confused than before. “Just spit it out, Parrish.”

“I love you,” Adam blurts; his direct gaze on Ronan when he says it nearly shatters him. “I mean it – I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m with you, Ronan.”

“…Adam,” Ronan chokes, and for a horrifying moment he’s worried he’s going to start crying. He never could’ve guessed how intensely happy hearing Adam say that to him would make him, and he’s thus unprepared to deal with it. It hits him like a tidal wave and warms his entire body, leaving him shaking, ecstatic, and so very alive.

He tackles Adam, pressing down onto him as he hugs him as tightly as he can at this awkward angle. Adam laughs and wraps one arm around Ronan’s shoulders while using the other hand to caress the back of his head, his fingers automatically rubbing through the fuzz on top of Ronan’s head. “Ronan…!”  

“I love you too,” Ronan gasps, high from the way Adam had said his first name as he nuzzles into Adam’s neck. “God, I love you so fucking much.”

Adam laughs again, cutely embarrassed like he is every other time Ronan says it, and it just makes him love him more. “Careful, God might strike you down for saying that.”  

But Ronan knows God is chill with it, and that just seems to make today that much brighter. 

i just can’t deny a good prompt

based on this post right here because oh my god

In art, winged, humanoid creatures were often romanticized, being depicted as angelic, ethereal beings, which was all well and good, right up until one didn’t make the quota.

Glanni, for one, loathed his wings; those shriveled, papery nuisances hanging from between his shoulder blades had never brought him joy, because it wasn’t as if they would ever warrant any happy feelings. They were ugly, plain and simple, and undeniably a mistake of nature.

Some time ago, Glanni had tried to rid himself of them. Using nothing but a switchblade and pure grit, he’d hacked away at the base of his wings, but found that they were firmly in place. Though he pressed on all the same, the pain became too blinding, too overpowering to continue, and he’d been left shaking on his bedroom floor, waiting to regain the strength to perhaps make a second attempt.

After that particular incident, he had stood in front of his mirror, back facing the glass so as to measure the damage he had done. Frustratingly enough, it was very little, the only apparent effects being the blood caking his skin along with multiple tears in the wrong parts due to bad aim. It was then that Glanni gave up on ever tearing them out, resorting to keeping them permanently tucked away until further notice. It hurt to have them crushed into him by his catsuit’s force, but there was nothing else he was willing to do.

He must’ve not been thinking when he unzipped the fabric despite Ithro standing directly with him. Glanni could only assume he was so distracted by the anticipation of relieving his wings of the constant weight pressed against them that he never stopped to wonder whether or not it was a good idea. Before he knew any better, he heard Ithro’s sharp inhale behind him, sending him in a frenzy to cover back up again before anything else happened.

“Who told you you could look?” Glanni spat venomously, turning around to face the other man as he furiously redid his zipper. His face was painted an indignant red, a side effect from holding back tears. It’d been a long time since he’d snapped at Ithro like this without reason, and it had also been a long time since he had felt this vulnerable.

“Glanni, what-” Ithro stammered, struggling to understand the sudden hostility whilst also trying to process what he was seeing.

“Shut up!” Glanni clapped his hands onto his ears, something he tended to do when he was overwhelmed and didn’t want to listen anymore. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid crying. His body was stiff as he stood, back hunched and knees pressed together.

Ithro didn’t try to speak again just then, instead approaching him in a cautious manner, being sure that his kind intentions were clear by holding his hands up in a submissive stance. Glanni eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t back away, encouraging Ithro to keep going.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, and put his hands on either of Glanni’s shoulders, which tensed briefly before relaxing once more. Ithro listened to his ragged breathing, rubbing his shoulders with the palms of his hands to get him in a calm state.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” Glanni choked out, clutching the fabric of Ithro’s shirt with trembling fingers. “I never wanted this to happen, and I- and I’m so sorry if I misled you or something because I didn’t mean to.”

“Misled me?”

Yes. I never told you, and I never meant to.”

“And I never meant to scare you so much to make you think that this isn’t all alright.” Ithro stepped back a bit in spite of Glanni’s protesting hands and made gesture directed towards his suit. “Why don’t you get comfortable?”

Glanni seemed to think for a minute, glassy eyes looking to nothing in particular, then he gave a watery smile. “I guess I might as well,” he said, uncharacteristic shyness creeping into his tone as he undid his zipper, allowing the material to fall and his unloved wings to stretch out properly.

They were more than Ithro could have ever prepared for. Though they were damaged horrendously, there were still hints within their structure that they could have grown into something tremendous, but several removal attempts left them battered at best. He still thought them to be beautiful, as they were a part of someone who was everything that word held and then some.

“I don’t know what you were so afraid of,” Ithro murmured in wonder, grazing his fingertips along his wing’s outline, being careful not to go over any sensitive piece if he could avoid it. “These are amazing, but what happened to them?”

Temporarily lost in the soothing sensation of his wings getting touched in a delicate fashion for the first time, Glanni took awhile to respond. Now that he could tell he wasn’t going to get screamed at, hurt, or abandoned, he didn’t feel like discussing such things anymore.

“I didn’t want them.” He was reluctant to speak, letting himself be led to his mattress and onto Ithro’s lap where he continued to fondle those hated appendages. As much as Glanni wished them to be gone, it was nice to have them caressed that way. “I hate them. They’re awful.”

“That’s just not true,” Ithro countered quietly, adjusting his position to accommodate Glanni’s weight sinking into him as he loosened his muscles. “You might hate them, but they’re not awful.”

“Are you saying that you don’t?”

“Why would I? I love everything about you, these too.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Glanni groaned.

“I’m not, you just don’t understand yet, and I’ll help you.”

“You aren’t going to give up,” and while Glanni tried to make it sound like a for certain statement, his inquiring tone outed his anxiety.

“Not a chance.”

Grovel for Forgiveness

A/N: A request from @gnarlytricksbro where the reader has hidden her life before the BAU from the team and refuses to share her past with them, tells Garcia not to snoop, but they do and she goes off on them. @coveofmemories

                                                           —–

No one knew of her reason for coming to the Bureau. And she wanted to keep it that way. It’s not like it was this big secret, but she didn’t feel like bringing it up out of nowhere. If it came up, it came up, and if it didn’t, then she didn’t want people snooping around to find out the answer.

Y/N’s history was fraught with trauma, but through it all she’d made it into the Bureau. Through pure grit and determination, she managed to defy all odds and obtain the job she’d always wanted. Now six months into her work with the Bureau, she would consider herself close with her teammates. The only problem was, that as a profiler, people consciously or unconsciously wanted to know everything about a person so they could figure them out. Y/N would constantly field questions about where she came from before moving to DC, but she’d give them just enough of an answer to get them to let it go.

“Come on, Y/N,” Garcia whined. “I feel like we love you and know you, but we don’t really know you, you know?” 

“What’s to know?!” she exclaimed. All that mattered was that she was a good person, she did her job well, she loved her friends with all her heart. What did it matter if they knew what happened in her past? “Garcia, all you need to know is that I love you all.”

With that, she left for the day. She’d been trying to get a doctor’s appointment for months now, so when she finally got one, she asked Hotch if she could leave early. As she walked into the elevator, Garcia sighed. “I just feel like we don’t really know her. Like, what if she’s a spy?”

“Just because I basically used to be a spy doesn’t mean that Y/N is,” Emily laughed. It would be highly unlikely for two members of the BAU to be former spies. “Although it is curious.”

“Right?!” Garcia said excitedly. “It’s just weird. We know absolutely nothing about her life before. Only who she is now.”

“I mean that’s really all that matters right?” Spencer asked. “We don’t care what happened in Emily’s former life, so why should Y/N’s case be any different. I would just leave it alone.”

As Morgan, Rossi, Garcia, JJ and Emily made their way to Garcia’s office, Spencer backed out. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this. She obviously wants to keep something private, so I’m not going to search into her background if she doesn’t want us to.”

“I respect that,” Emily said. “But something is gnawing at me, so I guess we’re going to try and figure out what she’s hiding.”

While Spencer returned to his desk to do paperwork and Hotch worked in his office, the rest of the team went to Garcia’s office. “Should we really be doing this?” JJ asked.

Garcia typed away on the keyboard, booting up her systems as they debated whether or not to look her up. Morgan and Garcia were especially interested in what Y/N was hiding. “As curious as I am, I don’t think I can do this,” JJ said, walking out of the room.

“Okay, here we go,” Garcia said, typing Y/N’s name into the search engine. The first things to pop up related to her work with he Bureau, getting accepted at such a young age, her degrees from Harvard and Cornell; she was extremely accomplished. But as she dug deeper, Garcia feared they found what she was hiding. “Oh my god.”

“What is it babygirl?”

Her eyes started to tear as she read from the article she found. “Y/F/N Y/L/N, age 10, and younger sister, Michelle, were found cowering in her closet after a masked intruder broke into the family home, stabbing both parents to death. Sources say the young girls were too afraid to come out of the closet for three days until a neighbor came in to check on the family. There are no suspects at this time.”

“Fuck…” Emily said. “That was barely more than a decade ago.” Y/N was only 21 years old. A little younger than Spencer was when he joined the Bureau - the youngest to date.

“That’s probably why she wanted to join the Bureau,” Morgan sighed, suddenly feeling the guilt over looking through her personal life. “She’s probably hoping to track down the monster who killed her parents.”

“We can’t forget we saw this, can we?” Garcia asked. She’d said not to, Spencer and JJ said they couldn’t do it, Hotch probably would’ve yelled at them, but they’d done it anyway and now they knew something they really shouldn’t.

“No, I don’t think we can.”

                                                          —–

The next day, Morgan, Garcia, Emily and Rossi felt the weight of their guilt. Hotch had no clue, and Spencer and JJ didn’t ask what the four had found. 

“Hello,” Y/N said as she walked into the Bureau that morning. “We have a case yet?”

“I think so,” Spencer replied, “Hotch is in his office right now.” For profilers, the four offenders were not good at hiding what they knew. None of them would make eye contact with her.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why is everyone being so quiet?”

“N-No reason,” Garcia said. Rossi, Emily and Morgan rolled their eyes. It was always Garcia that blew it. “Just t-tired.”

“For profilers, you guys really suck at this,” she said. “What is it?”

“It’s just…” Morgan started wanting to take some of the blame off of Garcia. After all, she wasn’t the only one to look into Y/N’s past. “We found something out about you.”

A look of recognition flashed across her eyes before she burst. “You what?!” she screamed. “You looked into my past? What the hell is the matter with you? I told you not to!” The heat rose to her face as Spencer and JJ said nothing and Hotch walked back into the room.

“Told them not to do what? What’s going on here?” he asked, upon seeing Y/N so angry and hurt. 

“They looked into my past!” she screamed. “I told them not to and they did it anyway!”

Emily spoke up, trying to calm her down. “We just had a feeling.”

“What kind of feeling? What the fuck does my background have to do with anything?” she screamed, her eyes brimming with tears. “Fantastic. Well now you know.”

“We don’t,” Spencer said quietly, pointing between him and JJ.

“So it was the four of you?”

They all nodded their heads guiltily. “Y/N,” Rossi said, “We’re sorry.”

“Cool,” she said hotly, “Well considering four of you know, the rest of you might as well. I was 10 and my sister, Michelle, was 5 when someone came into my home and stabbed my parents to death. To this day, he’s still out there. Now you know my big secret! How would you like it if I dug into your days with Interpol, Em? Or Rossi how about your ex-wives, will I find something interesting there? What about Morgan? You want someone digging into your past? Or you Garcia? Hotch, as long as I’m not needed immediately, I’ll meet you on the jet, because if I stay here, I’m going to say something I’m going to regret.”

“We’ll see you on the jet in an hour,” he said quietly as she rushed passed him, her eyes overflowing with tears. “You looked into her past?”

“Reid and JJ didn’t,” Garcia said. “The rest of us did. We just thought she was hiding something, maybe something that could’ve hurt us or the Bureau or something.”

Hotch sighed as he sat down at the table. “I should really suspend the four of you for doing what you did, but we have a case. When we get on the jet though, you all need to apologize and grovel for forgiveness.”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said, as his eyes fluttered closed, “I don’t think I would forgive us.”

“You better hope she does.”

anonymous asked:

why do you hate meritocracy?

“If wealth was the inevitable result of hard work and enterprise, every woman in Africa would be a millionaire”

I read that quote a while ago and every since then the idea of meritocracy really started to irk me. Meritocracy - in its highly American form - where people believe that they get where they are in life because of their ability and own merit and hard work is just…not reality. Many people who LOVE meritocracy are usually privileged white people living in a first world country who think the reason they’re so great and successful is because of purely their own grit and hard work. Except the world doesn’t actually work like that? This type of meritocracy denies the existence of privilege and circumstance and pure luck instead of realising that those parameters have a far greater effect on one’s chance of success than hard work alone.

Yeah idk living in a country with extremely hardworking people who are constantly downtrodden by history, the current system and social problems and then fetishising the success of a very tiny few people who somehow manage to succeed allows more privileged people to ignore the oppressive systems that they’re part of upholding. Like if a township kid gets a full scholarship to university everyone will use that kid as a perfect example of how hard work pays off and that every other child who lives in a township and doesn’t have a functioning school or safe living conditions - simply isn’t working hard enough and therefore their position in life is simply their own fault. It’s the type of thinking that blames poor people for being poor - something I simply cannot in any good conscious agree with.

In the definition of meritocracy where “the person most suited/qualified for the position gets the job” then it makes sense, but that can also lead to the whole other level of fuckery where people start to think that affirmative action is reverse racism/sexism (lol).

Simply put - the world, on all scales, is not equal or egalitarian enough for true meritocracy to become a reality anytime soon. 

I’m not trying to say that hard work isn’t important or that it won’t get you anywhere, but for hard work to be valued you need the right opportunity or the right timing or the right luck.

I hope this explains it. 

xx Munira

To Be A Winchester

Pairing: Sam & Dean x Reader (Little Sister), Jody, Claire, Alex

Word Count: 2955

Warnings: Mention of death, mention of cancer, loss of parents

A/N: Here’s to compensate for being a bit absent lately! I’m thinking of making this a long series but only if it gets enough love. Hope y’all like it <3

Originally posted by spnfans

Three years ago, you lost your mother to cancer. And with her being the bearer of bad news, she used her last dying breaths to tell you that your father, wasn’t your father. That you were conceived in some gross bathroom in the back of some bar in Oklahoma. Thankfully, she got a name by the time she pulled her skirt back down.

His name was John Winchester.

Keep reading

If you guys want to know what it’s like having a learning disability then you can look at Naruto, he is an amazing metaphor for having one Learning disability but if you guys want to know what it’s like to have multiple learning disabilities then Rock Lee is an amazing metaphor. His Constant struggle to not fall behind let alone move forward is the realist thing. The fact that he has to live with his handy caps and that they never go away or lessen over time. How he self admittedly has to work 2 times 3 times 4 times harder then his peers and that everyone else knows it too. He gets though all of this shit by pure will power and grit. He learns how to make the best out of what he has and he makes his goals obtainable. As a person who’s grown up with multiple learning disabilities and ADHD and dyslexia I wish I would’ve paid more attention to Lee as a kid. Lee is so important because wail he isn’t well off he makes himself into something amazing and unlike anybody else. I’m glad at almost 18 years old I’m finally able to appreciate Lee. I’m glad I see a bit of Rock Lee in myself because I’m damn proud to be a loser with no natural born talent. I’m proud to be like Rock Lee; someone who becomes great through hard work.

a midnight snack

it twinges at a few of yoongi’s heartstrings to see jimin try so hard, to push himself above and beyond his limits to become what the company wants him to be.

and it’s not that everyone else doesn’t try as hard either. far from it, each and every member works so very hard to better themselves, to do their best to be everything that their fans deserve to see. all of them always try to be at the top of their game, if not for themselves, then especially for their fans.

but for every ounce of effort any given member throws in, jimin, without question, commits three, five times as much.

Keep reading

Three episode reviews: Battery and Days

This season, there are two anime about sports and both of them are kinda under the radar. In case you’re wondering, here’s a little double feature mini review, based on the first three episodes of each show.


Days

Sport: Soccer. Yay! Finally a sport I, European chick, am familiar with.

Well, I say soccer, but it’s mostly about running.

What it’s about: Tsukushi is a loser who randomly gets invited to a soccer match by genius player Kazama. He decides to join the school team and GIT GUD on pure grit alone.

First impression: Days has the absolute WORST opening episode I’ve ever seen in a sports anime. It was so bland and formulaic that I have been reduced to ranting at people about it. The episode felt super flat. It gives ZERO motivation for Tsukushi to do the things he does. And there’s certainly no reason given for Kazama to be that into him. It was so boring I had to click away halfway through to do something else before getting back to it. You can tell me that all of this is explained properly in the manga, but in that case it’s not a very good adaptation.

Second impression: Well, I have a three episode rule and it gets better. Quite a bit better, in fact, and after three episodes I’m kinda into it. The show has a wonky and completely random sense of humour, which I appreciate. Kazama is a gift. I like the variety in characterisation of the players and how some of them are regular teenage asshats. Tsukiuhi has to endure some pretty heavy verbal abuse which is probably meant to build up his character, but is also painfully brutal in making me relive some of my worst teenage nightmares.

While Kazama is a gift, he’s also a little shit.

Favourite dude: Half of the cast is super hot, while the other is really weirdly drawn? But Kazama is, hands down, the best character. He is very cute and he has that cocky rebel thing going, with a whiff of genius ennui thrown in. To top it off, he’s also channeling the ‘fabulous beautiful character who’s very aware of his beauty’ vibe (see also: Kise, Oikawa). I already adore the hell out of him. He rocks that Bruce Lee jumpsuit, man.

Gayness? This show is almost meta-gay. Like it knows sports anime is supposed to be very straight and also very gay. It’s become self aware. There’s a lot of shots of Kazama looking longingly at Tsukushi and the both of them are immediately ready to lay down their lives to defend each other. And then there’s the scenes in which Kazama professes his love for boobs. It’s a pansexual show.

Extra time: This show feels like it’s trying to push all the buttons. Like, trying real hard. It has the random sex talk for the male viewers, the bishis for the female viewers and people just straight up tripping over air for the younger audience. It’s all a bit too formulaic, but it’s much better than the first episode makes it appear.

Yay or nay? Let’s be honest, Days is not nearly as good as something like Haikyuu, but it’s still worth a watch. I’m interested in where it’s gonna go, storywise.


Battery

Sport: Baseball. Not, as the title may lead you to believe, some kind of blood sport.

No, I don’t know anyone called Haru, why do you ask?

What it’s about: Harada is 13 and already a famous pitcher with ’genius complex’, where he doesn’t feel like he belongs. He moves to a different region, finds a really good catcher and joins a new team, all while dealing with whatever it is that makes him such an angry little shit (my money is on puberty).

First impression: This show is so pretty and melancholy! The pace is very slow, with a lot of focus on family members and feelings and shit. If you want a reference: it’s like a baseball version of Free, in terms of storytelling (and also themes).

Second impression: I really like how much they focus on the support system of these kids: the grandfather, the deeply worried moms. Battery is very emotional and it’s really more of a drama about people playing sports than it is a traditional 'sports anime’. The team members don’t even come into view until episode three. There are no attempts at humour, childish or otherwise. If I have to label it, it’s a show about teenage rebellion. Harada is obviously dealing with some shit and he has that bored sounding voice to back it up (same voice actor as Tsukki!).

Did I mention the pretty?

Favourite dude: Nagakura. While Harada is definitely 'the cute one’, Nagakura is just such a gorgeous personality. He’s a genuinely wonderful person and I support that.

Gayness? This is a middle school show, so the relationship overtones are mercifully low key. I’m not getting a lot of gay, really, mostly good old fashioned blossoming friendship.

Extra time: I’m actually rather impressed that they chose a middle school setting, cause those are pretty rare. It certainly gives a different perspective and probably explains the focus on family. Most sports anime start with full teenagers that are already pre-fucked up by both puberty *and* whatever happened to them in middle school. This one shows you exactly how that goes.

Yay or nay? I really like it. A lot. I have no idea where this show is going but it’s pretty much sucked me in. I just hope no one dies.

2

Parks and Recreation begins airing its final season on NBC January 13, 2015.  Over the past seven years, we have grown to love and care deeply about these amazingly crafted characters.  We laughed when Ron explained how the government functions to a 4th grade girl, rooted for Leslie to take down the pesky Greg Pikitis, had fun treatin’ ourselves with Donna and Tom, and cried tears of joy when Ben finally dropped down on one knee to propose to Leslie.  This graphic is a swan song dedicated to one of the greatest television comedies of all time.  We will miss you greatly Parks and Rec. However, in the meantime, check out some of these resources that we think your favorite characters would read or watch.

Leslie Knope

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

Promises to Keep: On Life and Politics by Joe Biden

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

The West Wing

Ben Wyatt

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

The Boy Who Loved Batman: A Memoir: The True Story of How a Comics-Obsessed Kid Conquered Hollywood to Bring the Dark Knight to the Silver Screen by Michael Uslan

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

Twin Peaks

Ron Swanson

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

American Whiskey, Bourbon, & Rye: A Guide to the Nation’s Favorite Spirit by Clay Risen

The Bridge on the River Kwai

Band of Brothers

April Ludgate

Geek Love by Katherine Dunn

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach

Battle Royale

Dog Whisperer

Ann Perkins

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

Pure Grit: How American World War II Nurses Survived Battle and Prison Camp in the Pacific by Mary Cronk Farrell

Fed Up

Getting On

Tom Haverford

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Empire State of Mind: How Jay-Z Went From Street Corner to Corner Office by Zack O'Malley Greenburg

The Wolf of Wall Street

Keeping Up With the Kardashians

Donna Meagle

Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James

Next Generation Real Estate: New Rules for Smarter Home Buying and Faster Selling by Brendon DeSimone

Twilight

Scandal

Andy Dwyer

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

The Secrets of the FBI by Ronald Kessler

The Expendables

Reno 911

Chris Traeger

The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick

Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall

Food, Inc

Man Vs. Wild

 

anonymous asked:

Prompt: ballet master and former star Gold. Up and coming prima ballerina Belle

Rolled a 6 on this one which means: 30 minutes to write!

 (EEK- WAIT I HAVE NO IDEA ANYTHING ABOUT BALLET)


There was a girl in his studio.

No, not a girl, a woman, he amended, watching her from the shadows of the hallway.

It was nearly midnight, the rest of the school long since closed. Gold often worked late, preferring the stillness of Storybrooke Arts and Sciences High School in the evening. He only taught one semester every few years, that old deal he had made with Principal Regina Mills still haunting him.

He moved to tell her it was time to leave. He didn’t like the idea of someone in his space at the best of times, and the school wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods. Before he could call out, before he could cross the threshold, the woman’s head snapped up. Her arms went over her head, and her toes went en pointe as if strings had pulled her into position.

Gol stilled. There was no music playing in the quiet night, just the noise of the streets outside trickling in through the windows. The lights were dim, but he could see her clearly from the streetlamp shining in from outside. She stayed perfectly motionless, like a figure in music box.

She was petite, rare for a ballet dancer but not unheard of. He had been one of the shortest in his company, and it had only been on pure skill and grit that he had managed to secure the leading roles opposite the tall, willowy prima ballerinas the choreographer preferred.

The woman suddenly shuffled to the left, four quick steps, the blocks in her slippers clunking across the hard surface. Gold winced, the sound reminding him of bloody toes and cracked nails. The ballerina did not seem to mind. Her eyes were closed, face serene as she her arms reached out to her invisible partner.

He watched her solo, taking note of the muscle control, the rhythm of her breath, the stillness of her core and the serene, peaceful face. To be honest, he was paying rather too much attention to the face. He scolded himself as he began to wonder what color her eyes were.

As if she had heard him, she fell into a curtsey, blue eyes glittering up at him in amusement as she peered at him from under her lashes. “So, Mr. Gold,” she said, her voice rich with an Australian accent. “What did you think?”

He stepped inside the room, his cane making the same thudding noises as her pointe slippers. Her eyes did not go directly to his cane like most dancers did, those looks of pity and nervous apprehension galled him more than anything.

“Passable,” he said, which was high praise as any ballet dancer would agree. “You are?”

“Belle,” the woman said, holding out her hand. He took it in his own, pressing it lightly before releasing it. “I’m the new ballet instructor.”

Gold nodded. “Regina mentioned she had found a replacement for Mary Margaret,” he said. “I didn’t realize you had started.”

“Tomorrow’s my first day,” Belle said, with a nervous laugh. “I talked the janitor into letting me in to set up, but,” she gestured helplessly to the dark studio, “I couldn’t pass up a chance to test out the space first.”

Gold’s lips twisted into a knowing smile. “We do have cd players here,” he said, pointing over to the electronic equipment on the far side of the room.

She laughed. “I’m afraid I got carried away in the moment,” she confessed.

He could make out their reflections in the large mirror that took up the hallway side wall. They were a similar height, and he let himself wish Belle had been around when he was in his prime. He may very well have enjoyed a dance with her.

She caught his eyes in the mirror. As if she had known what he was thinking, she reached out a hand to him. He chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down at his injured leg. “I’m afraid I don’t dance anymore,” he said softly. “Doctor’s orders.”

Belle’s hand remained outstretched. “Just stand still then,” she suggested. “Let me lead.”

He opened his mouth, growing annoyed but before he spit some scathing reply out, her hand rested lightly on his cane head over his own left hand. Moving slowly as if not to spook him, she lowered, one leg raising up behind her in a graceful arc.

His body responded. His free hand gripped her forearm, and taking small but deliberate steps that would not pain his injury, he guided her into a spin, their eyes locked.

They danced for a quarter of an hour before the janitor found them, grumbling about artist types and asking them to get a move on already so he could lock up for the night.

Before she could escape into the night, he asked her if she might like a ride back to her hotel.

Instead, he woke up in the morning with a ballerina in his bed and a smile on his face.

It would remain there for the entire semester.

He had finally found his partner.