“These rules, the sign language and grammar of the Game, constitute a kind of highly developed secret language drawing upon several sciences and arts, but especially mathematics and music (and/or musicology), and capable of expressing and establishing interrelationships between the content and conclusions of nearly all scholarly disciplines. The Glass Bead Game is thus a mode of playing with the total contents and values of our culture; it plays with them as, say, in the great age of the arts a painter might have played with the colors on his palette. All the insights, noble thoughts, and works of art that the human race has produced in its creative eras, all that subsequent periods of scholarly study have reduced to concepts and converted into intellectual property – on all this immense body of intellectual values the Glass Bead Game player plays like the organist on an organ. And this organ has attained an almost unimaginable perfection; its manuals and pedals range over the entire intellectual cosmos; its stops are almost beyond number. Theoretically this instrument is capable of reproducing in the Game the entire intellectual content of the universe.”
-The Glass Bead Game: A General Introduction to its History for the Layman, The Glass Bead Game, Hermann Hesse
someone that is too perfect to your first lead, yet the writers often make them in delusional fantasy, that most of the time make audiences fall hard until audiences realize that those second leads would not get the girl.
Notable ones: Chilbong (Reply 1994), Junghwan (Reply 1988), Gong Taekwang (School 2015), Choi Youngdo (The Heirs), Yoon Jihoo (Boys Over Flowers), Oh Jaewon (Flower Boy Next Door), Kim Shin Hyuk (She Was Pretty), Kim Yoon Sung (Moonlight Drawn by the Clouds), …
This company makes nude bras that can perfectly match your skin tone!
A lingerie brand
can match its bras perfectly to your specific skin tone using its own patented color-matching technology.
Here’s how it works: Using the TruNude app, customers take a selfie which generates a personal color code. They then enter the code, along with their measurements, in the app. The customer can alternatively choose from a set of swatches that, according to the brand’s site, “contains the most popular color matches from our prototyping process and contains a range of over and under tones.”
Founder Danai Pointer started TruNude, because she was looking for products that match her skin tone. The idea arose after “a discouraging bridesmaid experience.
The problem is real and it is too rude to be true today. But unfortunately it is! Almost every woman of color hates underwear shopping and feels neglected by the way things are. Because mass production does not consider minorities!
Companies have gotten away with the beige ‘nude’ standard.
Economically it’s easier to produce one color.
But society is changing, we’re diversifying, and our range of skin tones should be reflected in staple, everyday attire.
I found the lack of Superbowl fics kind of shocking so I decided to throw one out there! Hope you guys like it!!
“There is no way your Pigeons can beat my Patriots!” Steve’s confident and teasing voice rang loud over the hustle of the rest of the team as you all prepped for tonight’s game.
“Pigeons?! Did you just call the FALCONS the BEST team in the entire NFL, named after the BEST superhero in the world, the PIGEONS?!” This argument had been going on non-stop since the teams who would be playing in the Superbowl had been announced. Steve and his Patriots vs. Sam and his Falcons. Honestly at this point the rest of you guys were ready for the Superbowl to be over so the two overgrown children would just calm down.
“Guys!” You walked right in between the feuding friends, one hand on either chest as you pushed them apart, “If you aren’t going ti help us prep for the party then you’re going to be uninvited!”
“Sorry (Y/N),” the two mumbled in unison as you started walking away, swearing you smelt smoke in the kitchen where you had just seen Thor sneak into.
“She only stopped us because she knew you’d be embarrassed when you realized your pigeon’s are going to get crushed tonight,” Steve’s sly smirk only grew as Sam spluttered in indignation.
“She stopped us because she knows you’re going to be crying when your Patriots get their ass handed to them!”
“Oh yeah? How confident are you Sam? Confident enough to make a little wager?”
“Steve, we already made a wager. Whoever loses has to take all the missions with Tony for a month. Or did your old man brain forget? Because you know who else is old right? The Patriots.”
Steve’s steady glare didn’t phase Sam as he walked over to the table where Bucky was peacefully eating a bowl of Lucky Charms.
“I meant another wager. Whoever’s team win gets to finally ask (Y/N) on a date.” Bucky chocked a little on his cereal as his best friend’s proposal. He was about to object when but it was already too late.
“Oh you are so on!” The two men shook hands, leaving Bucky staring wide-eyed at the place where his two friends had just placed a bet on who got to ask out their ‘secret’ crush of over a year. Well. This was going to be a Superbowl to remember.
“You having a good time?” (Y/N) plopped down in between Steve and Sam as the halftime show was coming to an end. Both men were so tense they looked like they were in a meeting with Fury about how they had personally set the world on fire, rather than watching a game with their favorite team in it.
“Sure,” the two guys mumbled with furrowed brows, giving each other side glares.
“Well cheer up guys! Neither team is doing too bad! It’s still anyone’s game!” With this bit of motivation (Y/N) gave each of their knees an encouraging squeeze, before Bucky started calling her over to help him fix the refreshment table.
“She is so mine,” Sam crossed his arms just a little bit tighter.
“In your dreams pigeon boy!”
“WE WON! WE WON!” Tony jumped up in down screaming in excitement.
“Tony you didn’t even pick a team to root for!” (Y/N) laughed as Tony threw his arm around her and ‘shh’d the laughing woman.
“I am rooting for whoever wins! AND WE DID IT!” Tony started screaming again as he made hi way (unsteadily) back to the bar.
(Y/N) stood laughing before she saw Sam and Steve still quabbling in the corner.
“Hey guys! What’s going on over here?”
“Nothing!” They both snapped in agitation.
“Whoa guys!” Bucky came up to the group and gave his two guy friends a warning look. “Let’s all just watch our tones yeah?”
:Stay out of this Buck!” Sam snapped. “Me and Steve can handle this.”
“Apparently you can’t,” (Y/N) folded her arms and took on a stern tone. “You two have been acting like toddlers for weeks now and then tonight are throwing full blown tantrums! What is wrong with you two?”
“NOTHING!” The two men shouted once again.
(Y/N) was taken aback by her two friends acting so rudely and tears started to gather in her eyes. “Okay then. Have fun then.”
Bucky’s eyes were on fire as he growled as the two men in front of him as (Y/N) walked away in defeat. “Fix. This. Now.”
Steve and Sam gulped and nodded their heads like two very scolded children.
“(Y/N)?” Steve was wringing his hands and shuffling his feet as he walked up to the women looking defeated as she cleaned up the refreshment table. .
“What?” She refused to look at the two men who were being supervised by a still steaming Bucky.
“We’re sorry,” Sam sighed. He took a step towards (Y/N) so she looked up into his eyes. “Truly we are very sorry. There is nothing we wanted less than to hurt you.”
“Fine, I forgive you,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and reached out to envelope the two guys in a big bear hug. “But honestly what was going on with you guys? It’s just a game.”
“We made a bet.” Steve grabbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes once again.
“Yeah about Tony? Its not that bad is it?” (Y/N) chuckled but the two guys were still looking extremely uncomfortable.
‘Umm. No.” Sam looked away, but met eyes with Bucky who still had his arms crossed tensely across his chest. “It was about you actually.”
“We had a bet that whoever’s team won would get to ask you out. Like on a date.” Steve’s blue eyes finally met your own.
“We made a bet-” Sam started again before getting cut off.
“Yeah. I know what he just said Sam.”
“We’re so sorry! We both just really liked you and we didn’t know how to decide who got to ask you out!” Steve started frantically trying to explain himself.
“You!” (Y/N) pointed to Bucky who was still hovering in the background. “Did you know about this?”
“Well I-” Bucky started backing away but (Y/N)’s tone stopped him in his tracks.
“You did didn’t you! Why didn’t you stop them?!”
“You see I-”
“You are so in trouble!” Steve and Sam looked at each other in confusion as all of (Y/N)’s anger shifted from them to the metal armed man currently being stared down.
“Babe I tried I sweat!” Bucky pleaded.
“You could have tried harder! Your best friends just made a bet to see who got to ask out your girlfriend!”
“Girlfriend?!” Steve and Sam both shouted.
“Yeahh…“ The couple turned to look at their friends with sheepish grins.
“What the heck Buck! Your team isn’t even playing!’ Sam shouted with his arms waving around in the air.
“Yeah well who needs to root for a stupid team when you’ve already won the prize?’ Bucky gave you a kiss as (Y/N) aw’d.
“Fine you’re forgiven,” (Y/N) hugged Bucky and settled her head on his chest.
“Um no he’s not!” Sam chimed in, interrupting Bucky and (Y/N0′s special moment. “And neither are you!”
“Yeah.” Steve crossed his arms as he stared the couple down. “You guys have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Well at we won.”
Sorry this is not the best. It’s kind of rushed because.. well… the Superbowl is on! Hope you guys enjoyed it though! Requests for fics and preferences are OPEN. NO SHIPS.
Can I Send a requests for a scenario with Yoongi Where He Never believes that would Fall in Love with someone at First sight but then He Meets you , a solo Idol who just made her debut and has a Beautiful,unique and powerfull Voice ? 😍 (+the way He would ask you out?)
i was really sad, i lost the initial draft of this after i was done due to a misclick, sorry if it seems a bit rushed. ;;
word count : 544 ship : yoongi x reader - unedited
“Great work today, Y/N. Please go get a drink of water.”
Clutching the microphone, you dropped your arm to the side heavily. You gulped down another breath hastily, eyes shut as you listened to the silence. The air was still warm from your voice, slowly getting chilly from the lack of noise. Finally, the recording was finished. The only sound that echoed among the stage was the sound of shuffling from moving reporters, press members, and cameramen.
Except for one.
You glance up. Black hair. Small. He was among the crowd, holding his ground as the officials weaved themselves pass him. He was locked in place, staring at the ground. You could catch a glimpse of the white of his eyes as you found him, but they quickly dove towards the ground. His hands were shoved into his pockets.
Searching for more eye contact, you keep your eyes on him. With another shy peek at you, he turns with the wave and out the seating area. Although curious about the man, your throat was scratchy and parched. Wanting to clench your thirst, you turn on the ball of your feet and head backstage.
The cool air kissed your lips as you stepped outside. Although it was March, the weather was still chill—the temperature you feel around the holidays. Holding your coat closer, you fantasize about the heat on in the car waiting for you. Perhaps a coffee would be nice to pick up before getting back to your dorm. Automatically, your shoes pick up the pace, inching closer and closer to the black car waiting to take you on your next adventure.
“Excuse me, wait…” a voice called from behind, mixed in the soft breeze carrying frost. You could hear gentle crunching in the snow.
Black hair, again.
“Hi,” you exhaled, crossing your arms and facing him. He was smaller than you thought, meeting a little bit over your own height. “Do you need something?” He shifted at your comment, unable to find a coherent response quickly.
“Oh… I just wanted to say you did an amazing job on stage today,” he said. “I really thought you did well. I hope to hear you sing more often?” You coyly tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, breaking your eye contact with him. “Thanks,” you murmured. “Really, thank you.”
“There’s a lot more I want to say… But I know you have places to be—” You suddenly swipe a permanent marker from your inside pocket of your coat, snatching his wrist, shoving the sleeve up. Scribbling your number, the marker cap lodged between your lips, “You can text me all that you want to say,” you said. He cooed at your flirtatious words. “You really are my type.”
After the ink seeped into his skin, he offered his hand. “Min Yoongi,” he grinned shyly. You take his offer without a second thought, gripping him tightly. His hands were strong, still warm even out in the elements. “Pleasure to meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/N.”
“Pleasure is all mine,” he bows, bringing your chilled knuckles to his lips, planting a soft kiss.
This guy is fucking amazing ok. @yuurivoice is an independent Yuuri Katsuki RP blog that does amazing voice overs that in my opinion, sound much more like Yuuri Katsuki than his official dub actor, Josh Grelle.
This guy is a kind, sweet, precious cinnamon roll who churns out the best voice overs EVER. Ranging from angst, to fluff, to nsfw that makes me need to bathe in holy water (JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THAT BLIND FOLD ONE THO). Check him out, follow him. He needs more validation. Seriously.
Ps. Mystic Messenger fans; I don’t play it, but his Yoosung sounds adorable
I’ve talked with an extremely wide range of people over the years, including a lot of out-and-proud racists. A few weeks ago, I had the displeasure of witnessing the coldest, most hateful words of my life.
For context, I was working a detail as security hired by the venue at a small comic convention (not to be confused with the convention’s own security). I was walking the convention floor, being visible and enjoying being paid overtime to attend a comic convention. I stopped to chat with various vendors, let them know I was there, checking if they had concerns and being cordial.
One vendor, with a kind of generic stuff booth, was a bit dubious about the amount of security. I said, as a way of justifying the need for security, that a few years ago, a furry convention had been subject to a poison gas attack that put a large number of people in the hospital. He asked if it killed anybody. I said no, but it could have. He said that it was a shame that nobody died and I turned and walked away, because there’s nothing you can say on the clock in response to that.
I’ve had people say to my face that they don’t believe in anti-furry sentiment. I’m not saying that furries are The Most Disadvantaged™ or something, but for fucks sake, don’t try to tell me that vicious, violent anti-furry sentiment doesn’t exist.
Your back was currently against the cool gym wall. Eggsy’s arms were parallel with your temples as his palms were up against the wall as well. You moaned softly as he kissed down your neck. You rolled your head back a bit while biting your lip. As he inched his lips toward your chest, you gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. You guided his lips up to your own.
“Eggsy,” Merlin’s voice rang over the comm, “Galahad needs to see you.”
You sighed while laying your forehead against Eggsy’s forehead. He huffed with a bit of irritation. Through his eyes, you could see the apology. You giggled.
“Go. We’ll finish this later,” you whispered in his ear.
He grinned wickedly before pecking your cheek. He quickly left the room leaving you to finish training.
You peppered Eggsy’s face with kisses. Your mouth moved across his jawline and toward his ear. You nibbled gently on the lobe before kissing the same spot. Meanwhile, Eggsy was focusing, once again, on your neck. Your fingers traced through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as they did. Eggsy lifted his head with a pleasured sigh as you did. His warm hands began to travel down your back as he pulled you closer. Grinning as you danced with your lips, you began to waddle toward the bed. You giggled as Eggsy managed to drop you onto the soft covers.
A knock sounded at your bedroom door.
“Y/C/N, it’s Galahad.”
You rolled your eyes as Eggsy groaned. You sat up as Eggsy grabbed the shirt he had discarded. A little annoyed, you went and opened the door.
“Yes Galahad?” you asked.
“Arthur wants us to follow up on your lead immediately.”
Sighing, you nodded. “Alright. I’ll suit up and meet you in the hangar.”
You closed the door and turned to Eggsy. He had already finished dressing himself. This time you apologized with your eyes.
Eggsy’s warm hands rubbed from your waist to your hips. You pulled his hair slightly with one hand while the other held the side of the couch. You rolled your hips, creating friction that caused the both of you to moan in delight. You dipped lower, crashing your lips together. The hand that had been holding the couch moved down to his bare chest.
“Finally,” he whispered softly in your ear.
On cue, Merlin walked into the room while glancing at his watch. He seemed oblivious to the situation.
“What?” you both snapped.
“You’re needed,” he finished before heading out of the room.
Sighing, you grabbed Eggsy’s hand and helped him stand up. He was frowning at the spot Merlin had stood. Moments later, Galahad entered the room.
“I don’t suppose you two could move any faster?”
Groaning, you pulled your boyfriend from the room. You were both getting tired of being interrupted. However, you both knew your jobs were serious.
Merlin and Galahad walked ahead of you and Eggsy. You were worn out, to say the least. The mission was entirely exhausting. At the moment, the four of you were headed to be debriefed. You held back a yipe as you felt yourself being pulled by the waist. You soon realized, after seeing Eggsy, that he had pulled you into a closet. He was smirking devilishly. You raised a brow.
“What do ya say, love? One last attempt?”
“Well,” you thought aloud playfully, “I’ve never been in a closet…”
You winked, being up for the challenge. Fervently, you kissed Eggsy as he did the same, before crashing your lips together.
Down the hall a bit, Galahad was smirking while Merlin was looking at his tablet. He sighed and glanced toward the agent.
“Shall we grab them again?”
Harry’s smirk widened. “No. They’ve earned this one.”
The Black Templars have continued in the style of their first High Marshal, preferring close combat over ranged warfare. This is further emphasised by the fanaticism of Black Templars Initiates, whose righteous anger makes them impulsive and headstrong.
Saxon was down, Sabine had the Darksaber in one hand and Ezra’s blade in the other. Her family was looking at her proudly for once.
And then the blaster report rang out over the ice and echoed off the trees.
Sabine looked down, the lower half of her plastron had a needle-point glowing hole in it.
Her breath hitched and she felt cold for an entirely different reason than the weather. She couldn’t draw a breath in… it felt like a piece of paper crumpling inside her chest as her left lung collapsed.
Ursa fired over Sabine’s not even a second after the first shot and Saxon grunted in terminal pain.
Sabine’s legs could no longer support her weight and the voices of Kanan, Ezra, and Tristan calling after her. She tried to formulate a response and reached out to them as she fell.
Darkness swept over her as she watched Kanan’s boots get closer…
“White chocolate mocha.” You told the barista, handing her your money.
She took your money. “Name?”
You walked across the little shop and set at the bar facing the window, setting your laptop down. The little bell above the door rang and you looked over. It was Spiderman! Well, the guy who plays him anyways, Tom Holland. And that guy he always he had with him. “White chocolate mocha for Y/N?” The barista called.
“Her name’s Y/N, mate.” You heard the friend tell Tom. You grabbed your cup and went back to your computer. The only people in the small New York City coffee shop was you, Tom and the boy you now know as Harrison (thanks to a quick google search.) I can’t talk to her. She’s too pretty. She looks too smart for me. But damn it, I’m in love. He thought as he watched you open Google Docs.
Tom approached you as you typed furiously, finishing your short story for your Fiction-Writing class. “Um, Y/N? Sorry, I know it’s creepy I know your name.”
You finished the sentence you were writing and looked up. “Yes? And I know your name, too. Tom.”
“Can I sit here?” He asked, his face was flushed. You nodded. “So. What are you writing?”
You closed your laptop, embarrassed. “Just my short story for my Fiction-Writing class. It’s due in a few hours.”
“So, um, can I, um, maybe get your number?” He asked looking down at his coffee. You’re fucking this up Tom. She could be the one, He thought to himself.
You smiled. “Sure.” You pulled a piece of notebook paper out of your bag and tore a corner off, then started to write. Holy shit! She’s giving me her number. And Haz said she was out of my league, He thought.
“TOM! Let’s go we are going to be late!” Harrison yelled as he ran up and dragged Tom away from you.
Tom’s coffee spilled on the floor and then he yelled, “HAZ! Stop!” But it was too late. Tom was shoved into a taxi. You were so close to going on a date with Tom Holland. So. Close. Well, all you could do know was finish your cheesy love story.
It had been an hour of you sitting, typing, and staring out the window. Only a hand full of people had revolved in and out. The door slammed open and you jerked your head up. It was him. It was Tom. “You’re still here! Yes!” He leaned out the door. “She’s still here Haz!”
You laughed at his excitement. “Yup. Still here!” You yelled back.
He walked over to you and sat down. “So, can I still get your number?”
You handed him the piece notebook paper. “That’s it. You’re actually going to text right? You aren’t like those other guys who get a number and then ignore it?” He shook his head. “Good. I would hate to think that Spiderman doesn’t text.”
Your phone buzzed. It was Tom. You wanna go get something to eat? I swear I’ll ditch Harrison. You laughed and texted him back. Harrison (or Haz,as you call him,) can come. But he can’t take you away again.
“He’s a horrible wingman. I’m ditching him. Let’s go?” You nodded and packed up your things. Then you followed the greatest guy you’ve ever met out into the busy crowds of NYC.