running-lights

the best parts of the raven boys (featuring me crying)

- adam and ronan literally dragging each other on moving dollys behind the bmw like what nerds

- “if it had a social security number, ronan had fought with it”

- noah told them like 400 times that he was dead why was this news

- ronan being so extra about picking fights with declan. school? sure. monmouth? hell yea. nino’s parking lot? let’s fuckin go!!!

- the first thing blue ever sees ronan do is run into the light hanging above the booth at nino’s #clumsygay™

- ronan’s number on the nino’s bathroom stall door (honestly what the fuck)

- president cell phone

- gansey describing his friends as “the sulky one” and “the smudgy one”

- take a shot every time blue or adam call gansey condescending 

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tbh my aesthetic is ben fankhauser aggressively playing the air guitar

ok I just watched the Death Note netflix trailer and I ???? what is going on here? why do we have Light running from the cops and hanging off of a ferris wheel??

netflix does know that a solid 90% of Death Note is just a team of law enforcement sitting in a hotel room speaking in extended, often absurd, logical assumptions, right?

Try Me

Request from anon for a Jax x Reader where the reader is Unser’s daughter, and Hale keeps flirting with her so she asks Jax to pretend to be her boyfriend to get him to back off. Enjoy the smut ;)

A/N - I’ve done this a little differently to my other fake boyfriend/girlfriend imagines, as I don’t want to seem repetitive :)

Originally posted by journeyslegend

“You don’t even know me. Get to know me, I promise I’ll change your mind.” You’re glad your back is turned as you roll your eyes in annoyance, not sure how long you’re going to be able to keep up the nice girl attitude for.

Turning to face the determined officer, you smile apologetically, your following answer the same as it always is. “Thanks for the offer again David, but I’m not sure things would work between us.”

“Why? Why do you always say that?” he asks, frustration heavy in his tone, his hand on your car door to stop you from leaving. “Is it because of the MC?”

“No-” You open your mouth to start denying his claims, trying to think of another reason not to go out with a dude that you just don’t find yourself attracted to, when you come up with the perfect solution. “Actually, yes. You’re completely right.”

“Listen, I know you’re close with them, but they’re bad people, (Y/N). You could do so much better.” Here he goes again, you think. Same speech as always. He doesn’t even know SAMCRO like you do, nobody does.

“Thanks for the lecture, David, but Jax asked me to be his girlfriend a couple weeks ago, and I said yes.” The pure horror on his face has you biting your lip to contain your smirk. “See you around.”

Walking into the clubhouse, you scan the room swiftly, not spotting the man you’re hoping to see. “He around, Sack?”

“In the apartments.” he responds, walking into the kitchen with a pair of rubber gloves and a plunger. You grimace, knowing Piney’s probably blocked the bog again. Shaking your head, you walk towards Jax’s residence, knocking on the closed door.

“Room service.” you call sarcastically, your voice sickly sweet. The door opens within a few seconds, Jax’s eyebrow raised, his lips turned up into a grin.

“Lucky me, though you’re slightly overdressed for the kind of ‘room service’ I’m used to.” he says, opening the door to let you in. “Wasn’t expecting to see you till’ later on.”

“I know, but I need to talk to you about a little favour so I thought I’d grace you with my wonderful company.” you tease, plonking yourself down on Jax’s bed. Shutting the door, he sits on a box in front of you, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket.

“You can just admit you missed me, babe.” He takes a drag, your eyes capturing the way his cheeks hollow as he inhales the smoke, the action stopping your train of thought. “What do you need me for this time, Princess?“

“Are you ever going to drop that nickname? You’ve called it me for years.” He grins cheekily, the smoke parting from his pink lips as he shakes his head at you, knowing deep down you love the endearment. “Anyway-”

A knock on Jax’s door stops you, the two of you turning to see Chibs’. “Sorry to interrupt. Cops are here.”

“Could they be any further up our asses?” Jax spits rhetorically, discarding his cigarette in an ashtray on his cabinet before standing up. You follow him as he leaves the room, Chibs leading the way as the three of you head out to the front. All you’re thinking is please don’t be Hale.

You curse silently as you see the man himself standing against his police car, Jax tensing up as he sets eyes on the deputy. “You’re here so much I’m starting to think you wanna patch in.”

Hale just scowls, his eyes shifting to you as you move from behind Jax, stepping to take position between the Scot and the VP. He watches you for a moment, and you know Jax catches it as you see him look at you questioningly, a pleading look on your face as you hope he just follows your lead.

“We got a call about a guy on a motorcycle running a red light a few blocks from here.” You sigh in disbelief, having a sneaking suspicion that his visit is more out of spite than anything else. “Just here to check your plates.”

“Jesus, how bad did you piss off my dad to go from murders to speeding tickets?” you sass, folding your arms across your chest. Chibs chokes down his chuckle from next to you, taking a drag from his cig to keep down his humour.

“I’m here because it’s my job, (Y/N), to make Charming a safer place for our citizens.” You roll your eyes, nodding slowly. “Something bothering you?”

“Woah, I thought you were here for us, not for the chief’s daughter. Check your plates and you can be on your way.” Jax states protectively, not liking the way Hale is speaking to you. The officer glares in response, his hand moving to rest on the handcuffs on his belt.

“I wonder how the chief would feel if he knew what you were up to with his daughter.” Hale snaps, his whole entity dripping with jealousy. You swallow nervously, trying to hide the anxiety from your face.

Chibs laughs loudly this time, a laugh so loud with amusement that you can’t help but smile. “Jackie, you naughty boy.”

You share a look with your ‘boyfriend’, him smirking, a cocky grin spreading across his face. You let out the breath you’ve been holding in, Jax’s reaction of enjoyment rather than horror making you feel confident in your lie.

“Oh, I get it now. You’ve got a soft spot for my girl here, and you’re pissed she chose me over you.” Jax says, rolling his tongue over his lower lip smugly. “Not that you were even an option.”

“You watch your mouth, Teller.” Hale warns, his eye twitching as he steps up to Jax, the tension heavy between the two men.

“Or what?” Jax challenges, anger radiating off him in waves.

“We got a problem here, boys?” The voice of your dad cuts through the ever brewing argument, him smiling at you loving before turning his attention back to the two amped up males. “Hale, you’re not stationed to be here.“

You, Chibs and Jax watch on as Hale turns into a flushed mess, having no decent excuse for ever coming to TM in the first place - though you all know why he did.

“Thanks, dad.” You hug your father as you speak, him squeezing you tightly before leaving you to it.

“So, something you need to tell me?” Jax asks as you sit on the bench outside, embarrassment crawling up your body. “Wasn’t aware I was taken, darlin’.”

He nudges you playfully, your hands covering your face as you groan. “He’s been pestering me for weeks, figured you were the best deterrent.”

“Thanks.” Jax deadpans, a small smirk on his face as he passes you the cig, you taking a drag as you think about what to say. “Glad I could be of service, I guess.”

“Thanks for going along with it. Guess I owe you one.” You tap off the ash and pass the stick back, biting your lip anxiously. “How about I do you a favor?”

“Sweetheart, no offence but the kind of favours I’d like to have you do for me aren’t exactly innocent.” You cough, his reply completely unexpected, your core tingling involuntarily.

“Try me.” you tease, your gaze flickering to his lips for just a second, your hand coming to rest on his thigh, fingertips inching upwards.

Next thing you know, the two of you are locked at the lips, thankful that the clubhouse is empty, the others off on runs and whatever else. “How long have we got?”

“Half hour, tops.” Jax mumbles, connecting his lips back to yours, his tongue in your mouth eliciting a moan from you. “I don’t see us lasting that long to be honest, darlin’.”

You squeal as you feel yourself being lifted, the pool table becoming your seat as Jax places you on top. You rip at his flannel, the buttons scattering all over the room. Your fingers explore up and down his chiseled chest as he begins to nibble and suck at your neck, your eyes closing in pleasure as he works his way down.

“Please, Jax…” you pant, your underwear positively soaked as his tongue slips over your exposed skin. He practically growls at your pleading, him ripping himself from you as he expertly undoes his jeans, the fabric pooling at his ankles, his boxers joining the denim.

Your eyes widen as his cock stands before you, you pressing your thighs together subconsciously as the ache grows stronger. “Like what you see, Princess?”

“Don’t get too smug, Jackson, gotta see if you can fuck me well enough, first.“ His hands pull at your shorts, you lifting your ass to help assist as he rids the material from your legs. Once he’s discarded the fabric somewhere across the room, he connects his lips back to yours, lifting and squeezing your ass as he moves to you to the edge of the table.

You barely feel him move your underwear to the side before he sinks into you, a gasp leaving your lips as he nuzzles into your neck, his teeth biting at your skin as he fills you up.

You dig your nails into his biceps as he moves out of you, slamming back in deeply. He pulls back, loving the expressions you make as he fucks you so well, the little moans and gasps leaving your lips making him want to explode there and then.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to feel you around me, (Y/N).” You place your hands behind you to steady yourself, your pussy feeling even wetter as he talks to you. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“I’m so close, already. Fuck, just like that.” you whine as he hits all the right places, his strokes alternating in speed, but never lacking in power.

You rub your clit, clenching your pussy as you come, your mouth open yet nothing comes out. “That’s it, come for me, baby. Good girl.”

Jax grips the back of your neck as he speeds up his thrusts, his gaze locked on yours as he gets closer and closer to climaxing. You’re practically on fire as you feel another orgasm creeping up on you, the pure hunger in Jax’s eyes making you more sensitive than ever.

“Who knew you could take cock so well.” he whispers as he drills into you, a high pitched moan slipping from your lips. “Imagine if someone walked in right now, saw what a dirty slut you are, so desperate for me.”

His degrading words push you over the edge, a loud curse leaving you as stars fill your vision, Jax continuing to slam into you as he rides you through your high. “You gonna take my come, hm? Gonna let me fill you up like the good girl you are?”

“Yes, fuck, please Jax.” you plead desperately, your nails clawing down his stomach as he places hos forehead against your own, his eyes clenching shut as he let’s go.

He kisses you roughly as he comes inside of you, his hips gently rocking as his hot spurts shoot inside of you, your teeth sucking at his bottom lip.

He pulls out of you slowly, his juices and your own dripping from your satisfied pussy, your body feeling empty without his shaft inside of you.

Jax buckles up his pants, grabbing your shorts before lifting you up as if you weigh nothing. He carries you down the hall, just in time in fact as voices begin to fill the clubhouse.

Reaching his room, he places you down on the bed, his body crawling over yours as he moves a piece of hair from your face. “I’ve gotta go for a vote, but when I get back, we’re gonna see how sexy you look on your hands and knees.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving you shaken and hungry for more.

A/N - It’s been a whileeeeeee since I wrote some smut, but I’m so glad with how this turned out!!!! Hope you guys likeddddddd xxxx

My rules of running (based on my experience)

1) eat at least 2 hours before running. If it’s something light and carby, it can be less but at least 45 minutes

2) stop drinking water 50-60 minutes before running. It causes cramps

3) 3+ liters of water daily

4) sleep is your BEST friend. Sleep is as/more important than the work you’re doing. You will stay where you are or get worse if you don’t sleep enough, it is the body’s opportunity to rebuild what you broke down during running/training

5) always eat *enough (*= however much until you feel full and satisfied. Try to stick to whole foods and fruit&veggies, but the world won’t end when you eat something processed. Treat yourself often, you deserve it girl!). Also note that your fitness is what’s inside of you and not entirely aesthetic

6) don’t spend too much energy on nutrition. The best athletes have a general guideline of what to eat during training, but you should never restrict yourself if you’re training at a high volume. Or even if you’re not. Just eat freely you’ll feel better while running, guaranteed

7) enjoy every single run. There will be times where you can’t pound the pavement due to injury or something else so never take any run for granted

8) trial of miles, miles of trials. There will be a daily grind that isn’t always glamorous but it’ll always be there and there’s comfort in that

9) workouts are the place to get better. In order to get better, you need to push your body into discomfort. Be honest about what that means to you

10) LEAVE YOUR NEGATIVITY AT THE DOOR. Being negative is a choice, no matter what. Don’t choose it!!!!!

11) trust that process. You’re doing everything you do for a reason. Trust that it WILL get you where you want to go.

12) shitting in the woods is okay and even encouraged!!!

sadinasaphrite  asked:

I understand you have a long list of these questions, but figured I'd get in line. I want to adopt a retired greyhound racer. What health problems do you see with them? I've also heard they are especially sensitive to anesthesia due to their low body fat. Do you have a protocol you find is particularly safe for them? The rescues have too many conflicting answers. One even claims they never should be put under anesthesia ever, even for dentals, because they "just die!" Which is ridiculous.

Anonymous said: Is it ok to request another breed? If so, greyhounds? Possibly rescue racing hounds if that specification has any problems that pet raised greyhounds dont

and

Anonymous said: Hello! I was wondering if you could (or have already done) a post about greyhounds? Specifically racing-quality ones? I read something earlier that claimed they were a lot healthier than most dogs and I’m wondering if that’s true. Thanks!

and

Anonymous said: Hey there! I noticed you said recently you’d like to see more ex-racing greyhounds as pets - I’m seriously considering adopting one in the future and I was wondering what health issues you see in them? I’ve heard that they can get painful corns on their feet and that you need to be careful about their temperature, but is there anything else you see that a future adopter should be watching for? Question tax: came for the the vet stories, stayed for the refreshingly sensible advice :)

Oh vetlings, I have a lot to say about Greyhounds.

I adore these dogs, and am glad to work with them, but don’t specifically condone organised greyhound racing. Most of these dogs like to run, I would have no problem with them running around a track casually for fun, but once prize-money is involved it becomes too tempting to push limits, to cheat, to cut corners, to overbreed, and this leads to poor welfare outcomes for too many dogs.

Please note the disclaimer that these posts are about the breed from a veterinary viewpoint as seen in clinical practice, i.e. the problems we are faced with. It’s not the be-all and end-all of the breed and is not to make a judgement about whether the breed is right for you. If you are asking for an opinion about these animals in a veterinary setting, that is what you will get. It’s not going to be all sunshine and cupcakes, and is not intended as a personal insult against your favorite breed. This is general advice for what is common, often with a scientific consensus but sometimes based on personal experiences, and is not a guarantee of what your dog is going to encounter in their life.

Also please note that this will be a Long Post.

Originally posted by thegypsycob

General conditions of Greyhounds

Whatever their history all greyhounds have a few things in common. Most of them struggle to sit, they tend to either stand or lie down. Their pain tolerance is interesting, walking in with a broken bone but screaming at a tiny needle prick. They like to feel someone touching their head. There are also a few conditions common to them, regardless of their lifestyle or upbringing. They are one of the very few breeds that I think it’s not an exaggeration to say you benefit from seeing a vet with experience in this breed. We have a lot to get through, so I’ll try to keep the basics fairly short.

Bloat, (Gastric Dilatation Volvulus) is more common in the big males, but can occur in any greyhound due to their deep chest. Delicate, picky eaters seem less at risk.

Greyhounds are generally very athletic, but they can and do develop Dilated Cardiomyopathy. While they have generally reached a reasonable age before developing this condition,

Pannus can affect any greyhound, and this chronic eye condition is generally made worse by UV light exposure. Once diagnosed it’s not too hard to control with medication but it is a long term condition. This is the most likely reason you would see a greyhound wearing doggy sunglasses or ‘Doggles’.

Greyhounds can also get Progressive Retinal Atrophy, which may manifest as ‘night blindness’ first, though this seems to be less common lately.

Greyhounds, perhaps surprisingly for all the raw food they seem to get when racing, have generally poor Dental Health. Despite being big dogs that are generally pretty tolerant, most of them don’t like to chew. They’re delicate chewers and won’t necessarily gnaw a bone.

Speaking of bones, these dogs get Osteosarcoma (Bone cancer) fairly readily. This cancer has a biphasic age pattern. Basically it usually occurs in dogs around 2 years of age, and dogs around 8-10 years of age. It’s all kinds of bad, every time and there’s not much else to say about it, other than the life expectancy is short. I’ve talked about it previously.

Of purely cosmetic concern, greyhounds also commonly develop pattern baldness. Typically the affected areas are the thighs and ventral neck, and there are a few possible reasons for this. It might be genetic, it might be nutritional or stress related, or it might be due to blood vessel compression under due to large muscle groups underneath the skin. This generally bothers the owners more than the dog.

Greyhounds often have thin skin, and while this doesn’t necessarily bother the dogs most of the time it certainly bothers me as the surgeon! Some of these poor dogs will seem to tear themselves open with any little scrape, so be careful of the suture materials you choose. They are prone to pressure sores with poor bandage care too.

And associated with their thin skin, some of these dogs develop “Happy Tail,” which is basically a chronic injury on the tail tip which wont heal because the blessed dog insists on wagging it against solid objects all the time, despite the pain and injury. They can’t help it. They’re too happy, hence the name of the wound. This takes creative bandaging or the occasional partial amputation to fix.

Originally posted by emiliotheexplorer

Conditions associated with Racing

Most greyhounds are reared for the race track and it’s not until later that they’re identified as being 'unsuitable’ for the track. Some greyhounds will be 'retired’ early, before they ever get to run, but many will be retired either with injuries or because they just don’t win. Greyhounds that have been retired due to injury are not necessarily lame, they may have healed well enough to do normal dog activities, just not enough to win races.

Track leg is probably the most common 'racetrack injury’ we see. It’s basically a swelling on the inside of the tibia below the knee, caused by the greyhound continually hitting its hind leg with a front leg as it runs around the track in the same direction all the time. They’re usually not painful, and generally go away when the greyhound is not restricted to always running in a very large circle.

Corns are hard thickenings in the bottom on a footpad, either secondary to trauma, foreign objects (grit) or papilomas. They start out small but grow with time, and are painful. It’s like having a stone in your shoe all the time and many greyhounds will become footsore because of it. Affected greyhounds are often reluctant to walk on harder surfaces, and anti-inflammatories doesn’t seem to make much difference. We treat them by paring them out and waiting patiently.

Grit in foot pads can cause corns, and can cause similar lameness to corns, but will show up on Xrays if you use high enough detail. These are fragments of sand or other foreign objects that have become embedded in the foot pads while running. Greyhounds are particularly lame with this injury and often don’t respond fully to anti-inflammatories. They need surgery to remove these pieces of grit, and the surgery can result in corns.

A Fractured hock, carpus or metacarpal/metatarsal might be a racing career ending injury, but not necessarily a life ending one. Depending on the extent of the fracture the greyhound may have no lameness with a walk or light run, or may end up with a completely fused joint. Generally these dogs are only retired to pet homes if they can still get themselves around pain free.

A Split Webbing is an injury to the web of skin between toes. When this skin tears it’s nearly impossible to get it to heal if both layers are torn, so the recommended technique is to split it all the way to the base of the toes and remove the webbing. This doesn’t seem to bother the dogs at all, and prevents it from re-tearing over and over again as it heals.

Maxillary Fractures are a rare injury of long-nosed dogs who are also klutzes and trip over, slamming their nose into a fence or the ground. This upwards force can fracture the upper jaw, just in front of the canine teeth. These fractures may be non displaced, causing little more than a blood nose and needing pain relief and soft food for a few weeks, or they may be loose and need wiring. They are fairly uncommon overall, but it seems to be greyhounds that get them most.

Associated with racing greyhound husbandry, Neospora infection from raw, infected beef consumption (and similar Toxoplasma from kangaroo or sheep) is more common in greyhounds due to their high prevalence of raw meat being fed. It may present as anything from back pain to blindness, and you can lose whole litters to these parasites.

There are a number of odd Assorted Sports therapy things that greyhounds might be subjected to, from particular lineaments being used, ultrasound therapy, chiropractic treatment or 'seeing the muscle men’, some of the 'treatments’ racing greyhounds are exposed to seem more like hope and witchcraft than medicine. These dogs may also have been supplemented with all sorts of things during their racing days, including iron and B12 as the most common supplements. You don’t necessarily know what a dog has or hasn’t been given in its racing days, but most will be little consequence, if any, after a few months.

Racing greyhounds are also known for a few particular metabolic weirdnesses. Exercise associated heart conditions, exercise associated epilepsy, water diabetes (like a temporary diabetes insipidus), rhabdomyolysis and acidosis are the most well known.

Anaesthesia

Now, this is an interesting difference. Greyhounds are a bit different when it comes to anaesthetics. Most vet students will easily recall that barbituate anaesthetics aren’t recommended in sighthounds due to their proportionally low body fat (and very young or very fat dogs for the same reasons), but greyhounds also seem to have a different liver metabolism that makes handling this class of drugs more difficult. Fortunately there are many other options these days.

The whole 'they die under anaesthesia’ thing is…sort of true. If you put them under anaesthetic when they’re under 24 hours off the race track then they tend to…well… die. But when these dog’s have been at rest for at least 24 hours there doesn’t seem to be a particular increase risk of death specifically.

These dogs are prone to both hypothermia and hyperthermia under anaesthetic, and in life in general.

They are prone to rapid wake ups from anaesthesia, which is not fun when you have a 30kg dog thrashing about and freaking out. For this reason higher premed doses seem to help if you’re using an alfaxalone protocol, medetomedine/butorphanol works well for sedation and we usually use xylazine/ketamine/atropine for orthopaedics. I will not be posting dose rates on this blog, but rest assured greyhounds are perfectly able to have an anaesthetic. They’ve got to get their dental disease treated somehow!

Compared to other breeds

Generally greyhounds are considered pretty healthy. They’re not free of problems, but their common problems are different to common problems in other breeds. Greyhounds have one of the lowest incidences of hip dysplasia in purebred dogs,  and rarely develop the same common structural issues we see in other breeds.

Their blood results are often a little different. A greyhound in racing condition will have a higher PCV, and a pet greyhound may keep this in their retired life. They often have a lower platelet count,  by around 20-25% or so, and may have a relatively low T4. A low T4 can be normal for a greyhound, and hypothyroidism shouldn’t be diagnosed without a TSH level.

They are, in general a little more prone to being clingy or developing separation anxiety. This is generally because most of these dogs are raised in big groups in a kennel situation, and may not get to be truly 'alone’ until they’re in a pet home. Some dogs just need a few weeks of being spoiled with TLC to adjust, some dogs need some pharmaceutical assistance for a while. Some dogs only really relax if they have a companion, but it depends on the individual.

So that is the greyhound breed from a veterinary viewpoint in a nutshell. Some of these points are brief because I only want to give you an overview, but I do recommend vet students spend some time in a greyhound practice, even if you don’t want to work with them or the racing industry, because the musculoskeletal exam of a greyhound is so much more thorough and I understood hocks and carpi much better in greyhounds than I ever did in horses.

Phew, that took a while to write. If you would like to support Dr Ferox’s writing time you can via Patreon for as little as $1 a month!

“You don’t know me, Nurse!” Dex yells, turning and slamming the door on his way out.

Nursey sinks down into his chair, hands shaking with the adrenaline rush that always comes after a blowout with Dex. He grabs his headphones, tugs his sweatshirt on, and laces up his running shoes. He’s feeling like he could run six or seven today, after a fight like that, but he doesn’t want to overdo it, so he’ll stick to his usual three.

He refuses to allow himself to think for the first mile, focusing on his breath and the sound of his feet against the pavement. It’s warmer than it should be, this time of year, but the air is still cold enough to feel that bit of chill in his lungs.

By the second mile he’s working through the argument in his head, parsing through everything leading up to it and trying to figure out what started it. He can’t figure it out, or maybe he just doesn’t remember. Whatever started it, Dex had surely ended it. You don’t know me, Nurse. A lie if Nursey’s ever heard one. He knows Dex.

I know Dex, he’s repeating through the third mile. He doesn’t know why he’s so hung up on it, except that it’s total fucking bullshit. I know Dex. I know him. I do. Fuck him for thinking I don’t. Fuck him.

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alphaandhismate  asked:

Hey Rachel got a question for ya. Do you think Stiles would feel inadequate compared to all the buff sexy werewolves and push himself​ to the breaking point trying to look like he belongs? Cause I have this headcanon where he decides to work out to make himself look like he belongs beside the wolves but it doesn't work out to well and he winds up doing more harm than good. Which upsets Derek when he finds out (because he loves the idiot but he won't admit it)

Aw I can absolutely see this. Stiles, already prone to insecurity and the feeling of not being good enough, slowly being worn down by that itching knowledge in his skull of being that he’s not as strong as any of his friends, not as attractive as any of his friends, and sure as hell not as useful as any of them, right? Sure, he’s smart. He knows that. But what the hell use is that in battle? He can’t dive in front of a bullet to keep the others from hurting, can’t stand beside the others and fight at anything close to their level.

And no matter how much he smirks at enemies’ jibes and plays off as enjoying being the group’s token human (”means I get to leave all the heavy lifting to you guys, right?”) it’s a feeling that would keep building up over time, pushing at the back of his skull every time the pack insists he be left behind on a certain mission, that he should stay where he’s safe, or gets offhandedly told he’ll just slow the others down. Every time they go running out in the preserve and he gets to sit behind and watch the car. Every time he goes out with the group and finds himself wondering what he looks like in everyone else’s eyes: this circle of beautiful beyond belief, supernaturally perfect people and then… him.

He couldn’t share his worries with the others –– Scott would get that worried look in his eyes and insist Stiles is perfect the way he is. Lydia might not share the same speed and strength as the others but she’s always been supernaturally beautiful, and she’s got her own banshee tricks to help out in a fight. So he keeps it inside, bottles it up… and he starts to push himself. Stays after school lifting weights until his limbs are wrecked from it, goes out running until his legs are shaking under him. Thinking one more lift, one more mile, one step closer to belonging.

And it starts working, too. He’s able to keep up with the pack sometimes, on their more casual runs. He’s gaining muscle, losing any last hints of baby fat. But there are hollowed shadows under his eyes too and he’s not eating enough, probably, but that’s fine. It’s fine when he wrestles with Liam and ends up with a purpled bruise blooming out across his ribs from a too-hard tackle. It’s fine that he can’t really sleep anymore because his muscles are always burning. It’s fine because he’s started looking at pictures of the group after pack events and almost seeing a group of people who fit together, not a handful of perfect people around a lanky, awkward him. Who the hell wouldn’t sacrifice a little comfort and the ability to lift his arms above his head for that?

.-

Derek’s the one who notices first, because of course he is. Drops in through the bedroom window one night like the supernatural stalking creeper he used to be, and finds Stiles collapsed to an exhausted heap against the side of his bed. Too tired and too sore to have stripped off his sweat-stained shirt or make it the extra step to lay down on it. He forces a smile when he spots Derek, but it’s more pained than it should be. Wavers at the edges. Derek ignores his opening jibe, doesn’t comment on the way Stiles tries to push himself up on unsteady palms and falters, a spasm of motion that starts and dies just as fast. Just moves silent, sits down next to him on the floor at the foot of the bed. There’s a world of words in his silence, a disapproving air Stiles can feel deep in his bones, and he finds himself saying “I’m fine,” low and head ducked, like it’s a lie.

It’s not a lie. But it’s not exactly true either, is it?

Derek’s eyes are on Stiles’ face now, flicking down his damp shirt, over his faintly trembling limbs, and it’s like he’s seeing too much suddenly, seeing through walls Stiles is too tired to pull up. People aren’t supposed to see him at this point in the day; they’re supposed to see him in the morning when he has the energy to grin and bounce and keep up with the rest of them like it’s effortless. They’re not supposed to see the tired bruises under his eyes or the way he shakes from hours of trying to hold himself at a werewolf’s level.

He wets his lips, a flash of frustration burning bitter through him.

“Look, I’m not strong like you guys.” It’s not news. It’s been a constant refrain for the past two years of his life, ever since Scott was bit and turned into a superhero sports star girl magnet and left Stiles standing awkwardly in his dust. Stiles couldn’t ask for the bite, Scott wouldn’t understand. And he doesn’t think he wants it either, not really. He doesn’t want the claws or the anchors or the pulls to the moon. He just wants to be able to keep up with them. Wants to not be the funny one in a group of supermodels. Doesn’t want to be the weak one in a group of heroes. Doesn’t want to be the one holding them back.

He bites over a frustrated sound, frowns at Derek’s faintly pinched brows, manages to lift one bone-dead arm and snaps out even more harshly: “I’m not… hot.”

It’s not the whole issue, it barely touches the issue, but it’s too much already and he scowls after he says it, daring Derek to snort or mock him or roll his eyes and agree, obviously, but that searching look only seems to sink deeper and Derek murmurs, “You’re wrong.”

Which is just… it’s worse than laughing. Because Stiles could handle people dismissing him, mocking him. He’s used to that. What he can’t take is Derek fucking Hale feeling so goddamned bad about his patheticness that he’s reduced to lying to try and comfort him.

“Oh, right, sure. I’m hot. You guys are all freaking Greek gods with all the muscle and the… faces.” He snorts, falling back against an overworked spine that protests the pressure. “You can’t even talk. You’ve always been the hottest person ever. You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be the one no one ever wants.”

Derek’s eyes flick down Stiles again, reassessing, and Stiles winces over the realization that Derek’s trying to find something, anything likable on his wiry frame.

Don’t––” He starts, because he physically cannot handle that, but Derek’s saying “You’re wrong,” again, and it’s soft and warm in a way that doesn’t sound like pity.

But Stiles doesn’t let himself feel it. The “oh yeah?” he shoots back is sure and challenging, almost smug in its confidence because maybe he’s not beautiful beyond all reason like the man next to him, maybe he’s not strong and desirable and wanted but at least he’s smart enough to realize that.

Derek lets out a growl of frustration and turns where he’s sitting, crowds in close with palms pressed to either side of Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles is on the edge of rolling his eyes because does Derek seriously think he can intimidate Stiles into changing his mind about himself, but then “you’re wrong” falls out a third time, a too-warm growl of a whisper, and Derek closes the space between their lips.

Stiles loses his conviction in the contact.

Derek’s hands move over him while they kiss, dragging soothing tips and scolding pinches over his wrecked muscles in ways that leave him groaning, touches sinking you’re beautiful and you’re wanted under his skin in ways the best words probably never could. Hands trail down to play across Stiles’ fingers, silently praising the cleverness of them. Beard-rough lips drift up to kiss across his temple and a warmth of admiration seems to melt into him with each press. And Stiles can barely move, arms aching protest as he lifts them to thread into Derek’s hair, body quivering in ways that shift between exhaustion and want.

When Derek finally leans back Stiles whimpers, wanting more but too worn down to chase him. But Derek’s watching him from inches away in the dark room, and there’s no reflected flaws in those dark eyes now. Just you’re beautiful, you’re wanted. You’re important

Stiles runs light thumbs down Derek’s beard, lets out a light laugh he barely recognizes.

“Guess I believe you,”

(And from now on, on nights when the pack goes out running, Stiles and Derek find a more interesting way to occupy themselves by the cars.)

11:28 pm Bus Rides

(gif not mine!)

“Can I…hold your hand for the rest of the ride?”

Summary: When all you wanted for Zach was happiness.

Pairing: Zach Dempsey x Reader

Warning: Light Fluff

HEY GUYS! this is my first ever fic/imagine so I hope you like it! :) 

11:28 p.m. Bus Rides

 I get on the bus out of breath, merely from sprinting to the stop with weak legs and a heavy bag. I was stunned that there was still a bus going around the city at this time. Regularly, my brother picks me up from work, but today he had to work late too.

 My eyes wander to the vacant seat beside this boy who had his head down. He was wearing a black sweater that matched his natural hair. As I was about to sit down, his lonely eyes look into mine. Zach Dempsey.


Keep reading

Crestholm Channels headcanon
  • Ignis thinks up a new recipe for a mushroom that only grows down there, but the boys remind him what kind of organic matter it feeds on and he rips that paper off his notebook
  • claustrophobic prompto gets anxious, he ends up holding someone’s hand until they’re outta there
  • their pocket lights run out of battery and they start stumbling around blindly until their eyes adjust to the darkness, when they leave they find they’ve acquired a fifth team member (daemon of you choice) lmao
  • Gladio touches a slimy thing and freaks out, turns out this big guy flailing around can nail a perfect falsetto
  • some part of the sewers have open utility holes where the group can catch glimpses of Insomnia above, they march forward with determination to someday make it to the grounds above
  • Prompto slips while climbing down a ladder and falls in one of the chocobro’s hands princess style
  • there’s a constant staccato of yelling whenever a bug touches Noctis or Prompto, Ignis only yelled once when a big wet rat fell off the ceiling pipes on his head
  • the boys come out smelly from the sewers and no hotel/caravan will let them spend the night, they end up bathing in a river

Uber driver calls out Uber CEO to his face in leaked video

  • For Uber, the last few months have been a time they’d probably like to forget.
  • Between allegations of sexism within its ranks, the #DeleteUber and immigration ban situation and a self-driving car running multiple red lights, Uber can’t seem to escape bad press.
  • Now, a leaked video obtained by Bloomberg shows CEO Travis Kalanick vehemently arguing with an Uber driver over how much he pays the fleet.
  • The driver, Fawzi Kamel, who’s been driving for Uber since 2011, tells Kalanick, “I lost $97,000 because of you. I’m bankrupt because of you.”
  • Kalanick fires back, “Some people don’t like to take responsibility for their own shit. They blame everything in their life on somebody else.”
  • After the ride, Kamel gave Kalanick a one-star rating, Bloomberg reported. Read more (2/28/17 6:15 PM)

follow @the-future-now

normality-dreamer  asked:

A guy I grew up with asked me "how can you have int'l women's day if gender is a social construct?" I was upset by the question mostly because I was embarrassed of how I didn't know how to reply. Maybe it's a stupid question, but clearly there's a genuine lack of understanding on my end and I'm so bummed about that because I thought I understood sex v gender v ?? Help!

while created by society, social constructs are still very real & have real influence over our daily lives. money, marriage, beauty even stop lights are all social constructs but I’m pretty sure you can’t just run a red light and use “it’s just a social construct!” as your defense. yes gender is socially constructed, it still plays a role in how we are treated & perceived by the world around us.

Play aqui do blog Aloha 🌸

Ahzee – Go Gyal

Alesso - I Wanna Know ft. Nico & Vinz

Alok - Me and You 

Bastille - Good Grief

Calvin Harris - My Way

Clean Bandit - Tears ft. Louisa Johnson

David Guetta ft. Zara Larsson - This One’s For You

Drake - One Dance

Flume - Say It feat. Tove Lo

Galantis & Hook N Sling - Love On Me

Jonas Blue - Fast Car ft. Dakota

Kygo - Carry Me ft. Julia Michaels

MC 2K - Falei Nada

MC Charles e MC Davi - Viva la Vida

MC Davi - O Verão Esta Chegando

MC Davi e MC Kapela - Tô Solteiro

MC Dede - Pow Pow Tey Tey 2

MC G15 - Deu Onda

MC Huguinho - Resenha Em Casa

MC Kekel - Namorar Pra Quê?

MC Kekel - Partiu

MC Kevinho - Olha a Explosão

MC Leléto e MC Maromba - Automaticamente

MC Livinho e MC Lustosa - Pros Malas

MC MM - Social, Narga e Piscina

MC Menor da VG e MC Davi - Fogo na Inveja 2

MC Rodolfinho - Qualquer Paixão Me Diverte

Major Lazer - Run Up

Major Lazer – Light it Up

Martin Garrix - Sun Is Never Going Down

MØ - Drum

Neiked ft. Dyo - Sexual

Remady & Manu-L - L.I.F.E.

Slushii - So Long (feat. Madi)

The Chainsmokers - Setting Fires

A Little Elriel Fluff

I kinda did a thing because @throne-of-omg-the-feels absolutely killed me with this post and I couldn’t stop myself… (might have gone off on a tangent but I hope you all enjoy it)

Azriel had always had trouble sleeping, especially in the pitch black of the night. It surprised most people, that a shadowsinger like him should have so much trouble in the dark. But the dark… the dark reminded him too much of the cage of his childhood. It reminded of cold rags on the floor, of constant, gnawing hunger and the agony of freshly burned hands.

Even five centuries of freedom hadn’t completely purged him of that little spark of irrational fear, that fear of the dark. It was for this reason he always kept his curtains open the tiniest bit, so that the gentle light of the stars filtered through. Enough of a reminder that he didn’t destroy his bedroom every time he ripped himself out of a nightmare. (For Azriel could walk in darkness and shadow, could dance in it, could listen to its song… but sleep, sleep was another type of vulnerability entirely. Sleep was dangerous.)

Still, even this small precaution wasn’t enough for Azriel to let his guard down and let someone sleep next to him. Oh, he’d had lovers over the centuries - sometimes even ones that stayed for longer than one night. But he’d never laid beside them. (For so long he’d hoped, dreamed, that one day Mor might be the first by his side - glorious, free Mor. But she’d since told him that this dream was impossible… and so he had let it go, in little bits until the last vestiges of it had faded into a beloved memory.)

And then there was Elain. Unexpected and utterly beautiful in every way. She came into his life, into his heart, slowly until one day it hit him, what this feeling that had grown inside his chest was. And she was like him. Different. Different in a way the others couldn’t understand. The seer and the shadowsinger. What a pair they would make. And by the Cauldron, he’d longed to be a part of that pair, a half of a whole… to be something to Elain Archeron that he never been to anyone else before. He longed for her body lying next to him in the cursed dark, quiet and at peace. But he didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, that kind of companionship. Certainly not from someone as wholly good as Elain.

So he hadn’t dared hope that she might pick him, not after Mor and not when she already had Lucien Vanserra for a mate.

And yet she had. She’d picked him over her Cauldren-chosen mate.

And Azriel, damn him, couldn’t refuse her. Not when she looked at him like he mattered.

The second their lips met for the first time, the shadows retreated from him completely for the first time in centuries. They stayed away all night, when he learned her body so thoroughly with his. (She was so heartbreakingly lovely, delicate in a way that was uncommon among their kind… but despite appearances she was not weak. Never weak. Too often did people forget the kind of strength it took to stay kind in a cruel world. And she was a curious creature too, as eager to learn him as he was to learn her. Azriel also quickly found that her shyness did not extend to the bedroom, not with him - Mother above, she would truly be the death of him, one of these days… but he would would only be too happy to go.)

And when they were finally sated, and Elain slid into his side, draping her naked body over his, he did not find it in him to move away. To his eternal surprise, he drifted off into peaceful sleep.

His sleep remained completely undisturbed, to the point that when he finally opened his eyes, he was utterly disoriented. He sat up slightly in the pre-dawn light, running a hand through his ruffled hair and catalogued his surroundings with a shocking lack of panic.

He was home and-

“Elain,” he murmured softly, voice gruff with sleep, as he spotted her lying in his bed with him. Unharmed by his night terrors. Still so devastatingly perfect.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, the bare skin of her back aglow in the light of the slowly rising sun.

Azriel moved closer to her without hesitation, curling his naked body around hers and using a hand to pull her firmly into him, her back curved perfectly into his chest. She sighed contently against him, still fast asleep, and Azriel found himself pressing light kisses to the apple of her cheek, peppering them down and down until his face was hidden in the crook of her neck. His hands roamed freely over her sides with no real intent, simply touching her to revel in the feel of actually having her here with him.

He pressed another soft kiss under her chin, to her throat, her shoulder. Again and again and again, until his mind was filled with nothing but Elain, Elain, Elain.

Azriel immediately felt it when Elain finally awoke in his arms, despite the fact that she kept her eyes firmly closed. A small smile played at her lips, as if she couldn’t quite suppress her happiness.

He kissed her cheek again, lingering there as he spoke. “I’m afraid aren’t quite stealthy enough to fool me just yet,” he whispered, grinning when she sighed with faux disappointment.

Elain blinked her eyes open then, turning her head slightly so she could gaze up at him. Her gaze was soft with sleep, sparkling with quiet, gentle mischief. “I didn’t want to risk you stopping,” she told him, reaching up to trail light fingers down his jawline.

Azriel kissed her behind her ear in response, still grinning like a fool. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t. But he couldn’t let go of it, of her, either. So he would stay with her, for as long as Elain found him worthy. He would stay for her.

His wing curled in around them then, cocooning them gently until their world narrowed down to this beautiful moment. “Then I won’t stop,” he said.

And he didn’t. He didn’t.

Cool things from seeing the Great Comet live (in no particular order)

SPOILER WARNING!!
Also this is based off my personal experience, so it may be different for others!

—–

-walking through the theatre onto the stage
-old Russian war songs like ‘katyusha’ being played over the speakers before the show and during intermission
-the air raid sirens to tell people the show’s starting
-In the opera how Natasha being in 'a state of intoxication’ involves her seeing Andrey being killed by enemy soldiers
-LUCAS STEELE’S HIGH NOTES
-Dolokhov’s boot strap things that go up his legs
-THE ENSEMBLE
-Balaga being so utterly chaotic
-Anatole’s narcissism
-The whole theatre having a blast during the abduction while violently shaking their egg shakers
-the dumplings
-pages of war and peace being flung at you
-Dolokhov spitting all over Anatole’s face during Preparations
-the costume design
-Anatole flirting with audience members
-Anatole holding the 'WOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHH’ in the abduction for like thirty seconds
-Anatole being drunk basically the entire show
-Anatole
-Hélène’s look of terror when the elopement fails
-MARYA D.
-prince bolkonsky greeting Natasha in his undergarments
-Paul Pinto as the servant during the private and intimate life of the house
-prince bolkonsky hitting his powdered wig and powder flies out
-the opera singers
-Everyone wearing golden bear heads while dancing (I believe during the ball)
-every single one of marya’s entrances
-HÉLÈNE.
-Dolokhov skipping along the stage while screaming at Anatole
-Hélène and Dolokhov getting touchy feely right in front of Pierre
-Pierre basically just being in His study the entire show
-The whole cast running around the entire theatre, including up in the mezzanine
-“TIME FOR CHURCH”
-did i ever mention anatole
-Denee’s childlike innocence as natasha
-Andrey appearing in Natasha’s memories and she always reaches for him as he runs away
-The strobe lights during the duel
-Pierre standing completely still to let Dolokhov shoot at him
-Pierre hunching over before realizing he wasn’t hit
-The costume/prop design during the duel
-some ensemble members being paired with partners of the same sex while dancing
-Natasha poisoning herself with the super electric part of Pierre and Anatole
-Anatole’s green coat (not purple anymore) during the abduction
-Anatole not letting Natasha leave during the ball and they end up kissing
-The audience needing to pass Anatole’s love letter to natasha
-SONYA.
-Sonya taking Natasha’s letter out of her sleeping hand before reading it
-Anatole striking poses when he enters during the opera
-the guy who plays the announcer at the opera/the guy who gives Pierre Marya’s letter is so good
-“what…. whaT…. wHAt…. WHA T?!”
-THE BAND/ORCHESTRA
-the moments that rely on audience participation
-people with eggshakers accidentally moving during a quiet song (myself included)
-Natasha and Sonya’s reactions to the opera
-Pierre basically saying “fuck you” to Napoleon