soccer in the mud

alluroa  asked:

i would literally give up my firstborn child for another genderswap au bcos jane potter is so hot im deadt

Jane, flirting, tells him his hair looks like a carrot fucked a fire hydrant.

“Charming.” Liam says.

“This is the part where you say something back and we verbally spar.” She responds, leaning with one muddy soccer boot up against the side of the library. McGonagall would have a fit. He puts his hands in his pockets and pretends to look at the street.

“Not today it isn’t.”

“C’mon,” she grins, ducking her head so her hair falls forward. “You’re making me feel bad. You’ve got to say something back otherwise it’s like bullying.”

“What do you mean ‘like’ bullying.”

“Please. If it was real bullying I would have your lunch money.”

“I don’t bring lunch money.”

“Good thing I’m not bullying you then.” She says, cheerfully, and he laughs. It appears halfway through this conversation he got bored with pretending to look at the road and has started actively staring at her again. He turns back.

“Your hair looks like you shoved a fork into a toaster.” He says, and she laughs now.

“’Knew you’d give in. Now we’re both bullying each other.”

He looks back at her. “I thought you said it wasn’t bullying.”

She smirks, soccer uniform covered in mud from making unnecessary slides across the pitch every time she makes a goal, which is often enough that he can see grass burn bleeding on her knees. He’s going to ask if she needs a bandage, and then she quirks her eyebrow at him, and he cannot for the life of him remember his name.

“Evans, you are aware I can see you ogling my legs.” Liam’s head snaps back to the street.

“I wasn’t ogling.”

“You bloody were.”

“I don’t ogle.”

“Fine. Staring. Gazing. Gawking, if you will.”

“I won’t.”

“Liam Evans, staring at my legs in front of everybody”

“There is no one else here.“

“You were ogling.” She pushes off the wall, arms folded and still smirking, advancing on him. “Perfectly understandable really, they are, dare I say it, the best legs this side of London.”

He scoffs, looking at the sky and not at her. “You’re so full of it.”

“I can’t help having great legs any more than you can help having hair that looks like a red traffic light threw up on Amy Adams.”

“Whose Amy Adams?” he feigns ignorance.

“I know you know who fucking Amy Adams is.”

He swings back on his heels. “Hmm, can’t say I do, but you had better watch your potty mouth or I’m going to report you to McGonagall.” He’s looking at her again. God goddammit.

“Minnie loves me.” She’s almost right next to him now, a good head shorter, bag over her shoulder, knees still bleeding. Her glasses are cracked in the left corner.

“She won’t once I tell her how you’ve been bullying me.” He says, and she smiles. The wind blows slightly, and God, she’s fucking pretty. His fingers itch to touch her jawline, the base of her throat, her cheekbone. There is always too much space between them.

“You know the library closes at six.” She breathes, looking at him, “and my practice ends at six-thirty.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He lies, ridiculously.

“I mean,” her breath hitches, “You wait the extra half hour to see me.”

He wants to do something dumb, like kiss her or kiss her again, but she’s far too clever and pretty and he would have no idea where to put his hands.  The world is impossibly still. His heart is thudding loud enough she must be able to hear it.

A car screeches into the street and reels up next to them, almost clipping the curb. “Potter!” Sarah Black sticks her head out the window and yells to be heard over the radio, “if you get mud on my seats again I’ll punch you in the tit!” Spotting Liam, she nods and takes a drag on her cigarette, “Evans. You’re here again.”

“Well spotted.” He croaks, trying to act normal and doing a bad job. Potter’s arm brushes against his on the way to the car and he shudders.

“Wanna lift?” Sarah asks, and he shakes his head. Jane stares at him through the passenger window, and he stares back. The only reason he comes to the library is to kill time before her practice ends. He would wait in the rain if he had to.

“Amy Adams was in Enchanted.” He blurts out, and Potter grins. He’s so far gone it’s embarrassing. He would do anything to make her look like that.  

Black gives him a weird look. “Don’t take too many drugs on school grounds, Evans, Minnie doesn’t like you nearly as much as she likes me.” She peels away, almost taking out a letterbox in the process, and he starts walking home, thinking about how she has practice tomorrow, and the grass burns on her knees, and the way her breath hitches when she stands to close to him.

The streetlamps go on, and in the harsh light she roars into his head, laughing, covered in mud, a dream girl unbelievably rooted in reality.

February: The fall starts easy. I took baby aspirin, and a rusty spoon to my head, and smoked the stale weed my brother left in a broken vase before he left for college. Night comes fast, and tells the creation story. I ignore her this time. I don’t give a fuck about how I was made anymore tell me how I fall apart.

March: Nobody can ever find the raw spot on their leg until they start itching. I remember 6th grade when the mosquito bit my calf. Larvae and laps on the soccer field in early spring. He is oozing into my shoes with the mud.

April: My mother buried my rusty spoon, and took my brown hands. the clothesline was dripping carbonated orange soda sun, the wind was soft, the mice were sleeping warm beneath the floorboards; she spread my tarot on the floor with the forever broken and gnarled thumb she stuck in a blender when she was 5. That spring I walked home alone some nights, the heatwaves followed me like the labored breath of drunk men who don’t take no for an answer, I turned over The Devil and someone dropped a wine glass next door, she gasped, white eyes, the mice began to scrape and scream, the heatwave killed their children like it split my shoulders open and ate the youth inside.

May: The month of falling out of trees, junior high was gonna shipwreck any day now. There is a fast food place where the milkshakes taste like cough syrup and the skater kids cheat death on 3 feet of concrete stairs. There is a crack in the sidewalk in front of it, and he kick flips on it to break the back of the mother who left him at 13, he breeds violence between his fraying vans and then something in his ankle snaps, my oxygen goes tar black. He bleeds, he. Makes this sound. Like a dog when you step on its foot. I want to hold him, put a butterfly on his cheek, give him a band aid, something, God, something. He looks like he’s in pain. I want to. I don’t know. Help.

I walk away trembling and put my head between my knees behind a dumpster full of shitty milkshakes.

June: The neighbors fuck like rabbits while I’m trying to cry to joy division. I pray for a lightning strike. This type of poetry is for pretty girls, anyway.

July: my birthday flies into the glass of my bedroom window and breaks its neck. mom said the only things you can grow in summer that won’t die are grapefruit and hair, and I made a garden, I cut my chest open for Demeter each full moon. These locks were watered with gulf stream sea spray. I fed them bludgeoned daydreams. I threw my head against church doors trying to send Jesus some red flowers for his funeral, or maybe his birthday, doesn’t really matter, we celebrate both.

August: I got kicked out of high school knocking myself out on my desk. People carved hearts into the enamel, I carved my heart out of my chest and turned it in for my midterm. I slam dunked my skull into the bleachers on game day, and when the bleachers fell, into my history textbook, and when the book was mushy with blood, into the track field. I’m grinning ugly, dancing to the 80’s synth in an empty gym after homecoming, with a nosebleed dripping love songs down my yellow teeth, like words on old gravestones: here lies a moontoothed lover who will never rest in peace, every night she claws her grave and hears the call of western waves.

September: I’m high on concussion flavored car races in a stolen low rider, bluebirds fly in circles around my head after we crash, I wrote a song on a 5 dollar bill called blunt force trauma and it is about skater boys with broken noses, snarls of shaggy Jew fro his friends make fun of, and hands. that graze los angeles highways while he rides asphalt waves, slam his locker, and give the finger to the education system he keeps tripping over like untied shoelaces. he pricks those hands sewing together the lackluster parties private school kids throw. he puts his dewy rose bud lips to the jack daniels bottle, and kicks the drum kit over, gives it mouth to mouth, pump his fists into someone’s chest, gives it a pulse again. hands big enough to steal grapefruit with, the size of my swollen heart. I didn’t know it could get that big but he bumped into me, buzzing like a light saber, sky walking out of the grocery store with a grapefruit. with my heart.

October: do you have a girl do you? have a lover? Jupiter is orbiting around whatever this emotion is called, the rollercoaster one. when you look at me. We spend Halloween turning into werewolves at the library, you were moshing in the kids section, bleaching your hair in punk rock, I was banging my bruised and knuckleheaded love poems into a paperback copy of Romeo and Juliet, brushing my hair with broken glass. That was the first day the blood on our hands was not our own, she shushed us and we laughed. High on Shakespeare and Jupiter gas, we dug our fangs into the dewy decimal system. You ask me my name, I tell you, you smile. We had matching bruises and I floated home.

November: You make me. Feel. You make me feel like I can speak to snakes. You make me feel like my hips have a purpose besides balancing bins of laundry, and bowls of fruit. You make 17 stop feeling like a suicide note no one will read. you make me banshee scream and lick like fire against young pines, when you. dance. when you. kiss her, let her ride your double dutch hips, and your skateboard. She is a new coin, tangy on his numb tongue, and he tucks her in his pocket, his lucky penny. I’m the bubblegum he scrapes off his sneakers and throws into a storm drain.

December: I still cower into my pillow and smile a crooked smile, and go red at the cheeks, you. You put the red in my cheeks. I’m here, I’m exploding, why can’t you see me? Just put the bottle down, take your hand from your eyes, I won’t ask you what happened to your face, or how you got that scar, I will just like you and like you. we can buy angels wings in Hollywood, make an apartment out of crumpled homework pages at the bottoms of our dirty backpacks, we can drop out of high school, I will like you and dissect your sadness like frogs in freshman biology I am used to the rotting smell in your ribcage, I reek of it too. I will like you. until I know how to love you.

January: I switch schools, I cut my hair, bleach what little is left. It makes my mother unhappy, she thinks my spirit world is severing ties, she thinks my planets are discordant. I ask somebody back home about him, she says he dropped out and started working on cars.

I come down. Softly.

February (again, again, again): He was born to a rabbi and a beauty queen. I was born to a chemist, and a witch. Ammonia, bleach. Don’t mix them unless you want someone to die. Blood, adolescence, summer saltwater. Don’t mix them unless you want to make somebody wish they were dead.

—  2. a crush. and nothing more.

Sisterly support

“Judy… None of these shoes fit my feet. My dumb rabbits feet are too small and flat..!”

Easy, Sally. We’ll find the right fit for you.”


“No buts. If we don’t find the right fit, I’ll make you a pair. Don’t you worry. You’ll fit right into ballet class.”

“You really think so..?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Sally Hopps only ever told Judy about her dream of becoming a ballerina, a profession usually reserved for tall and lean mammals such as deer, gazelles and cheetahs. It’s something far more of a ‘girly’ dream than what others would guess Sallys dream to be. She’s a rough-housing, soccer playing, mud wrestling kind of bunny. Sally is afraid all her friends, most of them boys, would abandon her if she pursued something as girly as ballet.

Judy still supports her little sisters’ dream, even from the big city.

Sally is yet to tell her parents and start ballet class. 

“With a beard or without, with breasts or without, in flannel or in skirts, I am female and I will never let anything or anyone try and take that away from me again.”

Submission by @questiontransition

28 years old, Maine

When I was little, I did all the gender expected things that little girls are “supposed” to do like wear dresses and try on my mom’s make up, but I was also really active and climbed trees, played with my brothers in the mud, and played soccer. I was always wanting to pretend to be the boy when I would play with my friends, and I eventually fell out of my love of feminine things to instead embrace everything more masculine. I liked how the girls around me would accept it when I was pretending to be a boy and I felt like that made me feel more real.

When I was in middle school, I realized I was attracted to my female friends the way my male friends were attracted to them, and I started to feel really out of place. I hit puberty and I hated the way my body changed, I despised my period as any sane girl would. I had cut my waist length hair up to my ears and it didn’t take very long to start getting homophobic slurs thrown my way and people avoiding being my friend. While I found a girlfriend in high school who loved me for who I was, she was only just starting to settle into her sexuality and so she was shy about public affection or really being proud of telling people we were together.

I felt very isolated and I had started to really experience what I would later know was dysphoria, especially the larger my breasts grew and the more men started to give me attention. I was 15 when I had to do a research paper for my AP Psychology class based on any topic I wanted. I had wanted to do something related to the LGBT community and it was then that I decided to do research on the T part of that acronym and really try and figure out what it was about. As I looked up information on Gender Identity Disorder, as it was then called, and read personal stories, I started to see myself in more of them. Maybe not the knowledge of from birth, but certainly the desire to be a man, the discomfort in my gender role, the hatred of my female body. I was certain this was who I was.

I’ve been in therapy since I was a kid due to childhood abuse from my father and a traumatic divorce between my parents, so I started to discuss these thoughts with my therapist. Even over a decade ago, she was ready to tell me that I absolutely was trans from everything that I was telling her, and that the childhood wishes didn't really have to be a part of it - my current clear body dysphoria coupled with my constant desires to be a man were solid enough for her. As I was just a kid and I did not want to come out about it to my parents, I didn’t pursue any adolescent transition. My girlfriend and close friends were the only ones I came out to and I started to use he/him pronouns to see how it felt.

I was 19 when I moved away from my home in the mid atlantic to New England. Being so far away from home, I started to change my pronouns with people I introduced myself with, and started to introduce myself by a masculine name. I hadn’t taken hormones, but trans awareness was starting to slowly come into the public, so people were understanding. I ordered a binder and a packer. I tried to deepen my voice. I watched YouTube videos and read advice blogs telling me to study other guys, to talk with a deeper voice, to walk like a guy, to take up more space, to change the inflection of my words, to be more aggressive, to play more sports and stop doing all the “girly shit” I was more fond of like sewing and baking. I came out to my family - my mother didn’t care, my father was expectedly an asshole, but my aunt said something that would always stick with me; “Oh, I knew you had to be trans - you never liked make up or gossip or any of the stuff normal girls like. I knew you had to be a boy.”

By the time I reached my early 20s, I had decided I wanted to pursue transition. Through help from the Tumblr trans community, I found a doctor who only needed inform consent rather than multiple letters from therapists because I thought easier meant they were more accepting, that there was less “gatekeeping.” I got on hormones within a month of my 25th birthday. Two years later, I was able to get chest surgery. I changed my name. I changed my gender marker. I had thousands of followers watching my transition, pushing me along the way, congratulating every “brave” step I took, telling me how incredible I was, how handsome I was, how perfect I was. Sure I got the occasional hatred from bigoted jerks looking to get a rise out of me, but I was seen as a hero to so many more.

My girlfriend from high school ended up becoming my wife, we decided to start a family. It was around that time that I had started to really question what it meant to be a man or a woman. I couldn’t get her pregnant because I didn’t have the right reproductive organs - if I was a man, that should have been something I could do. My dysphoria worsened and I started to feel depressed. I had no one in the lesbian community to talk about our pregnancy journey with, no same sex couples to really connect to, and opposite sex couples wouldn’t have understood my needs. I started to realize that my sense of self was not actually that of a man, that I would never be a straight man, and my brain couldn’t wrap around it because of years of exposure to the constant rhetoric that trans men are men, men don’t all have penises, men are men if they feel it. 

The idea of trans without dysphoria had led me to the “truscum” community, which eventually led me to the radfem and gender critical communities. I had been taught to despise these people by the trans community on and off Tumblr, but I had started to see how many opinions we had that overlapped, and the concerns of gender I’d had since my wife got pregnant actually addressed. These ideas were so much more real, so much more factually backed, and not relying on feelings or senses of self. I started to realize my desire to be a man may have been my fear of being a butch lesbian, that internalized misogyny and homophobia could have been the cause for all of the feelings I’d had.

It’s only been a few months in which I’ve finally really accepted the idea of detransitioning. I stopped taking T about 3 weeks ago, my wife and I have had long talks about the idea of my socially detransitioning as well as medically. What it might mean, how it might effect us, what her parents will say, what my parents will say, how our friends will react. My mother knows and is fully supportive. I haven’t told most of my friends, too afraid of how they might react right now. I’m easing my way in, wetting my feet, trying to slowly remind myself what being a woman really means and trying not to regret the steps I took to survive in a time when I didn’t know any better. 

With a beard or without, with breasts or without, in flannel or in skirts, I am female and I will never let anything or anyone try and take that away from me again.

Looks like... -(으)ㄴ가 보다 and -나 보다

This post is sort of a continuation from the previous post on 것 같다. There, we learned that 것 같다 can be used to say that something seems like something else. It can be used to speculate about or give an uncertain opinion on something in the past, present, or future. Today, we will look at a similar structure.

-(으)ㄴ가보다 and -나 보다 both mean the same thing; the form is simply different depending on what it they are attached to. This grammar means “looks like” or “seems like” and is used when the speaker has observed something that leads them to make whatever conclusion they have drawn. This is different from 것 같다 in that 것 같다 does not necessarily require the speaker to have observed something to use as the basis of their statement. Let’s learn how to use them.

-(으)ㄴ가 보다

-(으)ㄴ가 보다 can be used with descriptive verbs only in the present tense and with both descriptive and action verbs in the future tense. For the present tense, simply attach -은가 보다 to verb roots ending with consonants and -ㄴ가 보다 to roots ending with vowels. For the future tense, apply the future tense -(으)ㄹ 것이다 to the verb root and then add -(으)ㄴ가 보다 to that. It will come out looking like -(으)ㄹ 것인가 보다 or, to shorten it up, -(으)ㄹ 건가 보다.


  • 아연 씨는 보통은 고기를 잘 먹는데 오늘은 거의 안 먹네요. 배가 아픈가 봐요. (Ayeon usually loves meat [eats meat well] but today she’s hardly eating. It looks like she has a stomachache.
  • 정원 씨는 시험을 치르는 데 3시간 다 필요했는데 호찬 씨는 1시간 안에 문제를 다 푼 데다가 점수가 잘 나왔어요. 머리가 엄청 좋은가 봐요. (Jeongwon needed the full three hours for the test, but Hochan finished within an hour and got a good score. It looks like he’s really smart [It looks like his head is really good].)


  • 유정 씨는 오래 전부터 언젠가 미국여행 가겠다고 노래 불렀어요*. 요즘 돈을 많이 모으고 영어를 열심히 공부하고 있는 걸 보니 드디어 갈 건가 봐요. (Yujeong has been saying for a long time that she will travel to the US eventually. Seeing how she’s saving money and studying English hard, it looks like she will finally go.)
  • 일기예보를 듣고 보니 내일도 정말 무더울 건가 봐요. (Listening to the weather report, it looks like tomorrow will be really muggy too.)

*노래를 부르다— While this usually means “to sing (a song),” it is also used as an expression meaning that someone says something over and over.

-나 보다

-나 보다 is used for action verbs in the past and present tense, AND for descriptive verbs in the past tense. It can not be used with the future tense.


  • 학교 축구장은 진흙밭이 다 됐네요. 비가 많이 왔나 봐요. (The school soccer field turned into a mud pit. It looks like it rained a lot.)
  • 아이들이 선생님의 퍼즐을 잘 못 풀었어요. 너무 어려웠나 봐요. (The children couldn’t solve the teacher’s puzzle. It looks like it was too difficult.)


  • 동생의 방에서 코 고는 소리가 들려요. 낮잠을 자고 있나 봐요. (The sound of snoring is coming from my younger brother’s room. It looks like he’s napping.)
  • 요리법을 읽고 보니 이거 만드는 데 40분이나 걸리나 봐요. 우리 시간이 있어요? (Looking at the recipe, it looks like it takes about 40 minutes to make this. Do we have time?)

Happy studying~

High School Athletic Mark and Reader

okay where to start

Mark was star soccer player at your high school which meant it got noticed more

you were the high school swim team captain and your sport was the second best

which meant that being second best didn’t mean you didn’t get noticed as much as mark

god you wanted to hate mark he got all the attention but you couldn’t he was to nice

he was always kind to you since you both shared classes together and both were in sports for the school

 but also you didn’t want to like him considering almost every girl wanted to date him

so you tried to ignore him as much as possible and you noticed it would hurt him

but you couldn’t have cared less considering state was coming up soon

sadly one day something happened at practice that had the whole school talking

what it was, was that you had down a dive of the top diving block wrong causing

you to facture your right shoulder making you not able to swim at state breaking

your heart. when mark caught wind of what happened he rushed over to the

trainer slamming open the door scaring the shit out of you and the trainer

mark was covered in sweat from soccer practice mud decorating his flawless

face. panic was written on his face and everything else was going on his brain

when the trainer left he took his place next to you and grabbed your good hand.

“  I’m tried of you running from me. are you going to be okay?” he asked me

“Yeah.” I whispered gently. “well you be able to swim at state?”

“why do you care? you don’t even come to the meets.” “I should care about the

girl I have a crush on, and I also do got to the meets you just don’t pay attention.

I mean your gorgeous when you swim it makes me calm.” he said kissing your

good hand. “Ive got to go finish practice pleas be more careful

after that you too were the hot new couple at school after that day because of

just how well you guys hit off. you were glad he liked you

admin fallen

sorry if it kinda seems rushed I’m exhausted mentally and physically but I still hope yall like it and it has errors sorry  

Thanksgiving, part 3

Part 1

Part 2

@anyone-anything-canbetrayanyone @lilyharvord @spookysamos @mareshmallow @chelsthebookworm @chaoslaborantin @runexandra @mom2reesie @delilahronnelle @red-queen-united

“This is not soccer,” Cal groans from his back in the mud puddle that marks the goal he just failed to protect. Tramy uses his stomach to push himself up. Cal gasps and flips onto hands and knees.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:


Nico was starting to lose his patience. Lily and Adrien were behind him, confused and scared. 

“That little boy should not have a doll in his hands or a crown on his head!” the soccer mom in front of him shouted. “And that little girl shouldn’t be coated in mud and scrapes. It’s not right, and it’s a bad influence on the other kids. You need to take those things away from him and clean that little gir-”

“They’re not your kids, so you need to back the fuck off,” he hissed. She looked scandalized and offended, but Nico was done. He was tired of these stupid standards and people thinking they could tell him how to live or how to raise his daughter. And even though Adrien wasn’t his son, he cared for the little boy just as much. 

He stepped closer to the woman, anger and disgust clear in his voice. “If my son wants to let his sister do his hair or play dolls with her, he can. If my daughter wants to roll in the mud and play soccer with her brother she can. My kids can do whatever the fuck they want, and people like you don’t get to tell me or them otherwise.” He turned to Adrien and Lily, ushering them away. “Let’s go home, guys. We can keep playing there.” 

Lily slid her hand into Adrien’s as they walked back to the car. “I think the crown looks cool,” she said. 

Adrien smiled. “I think you still look like a princess even with mud on your face.”

Nico sighed and gave them apologetic smiles as he strapped them into the car. “I’m sorry about that, kids.” 

anonymous asked:

Imagine an au where alchemy is there on Voltron Earth and Lance did the Thing™ when he was young (maybe to bring Loraine back?? :3c). He got an automail, gave up on alchemy (tried to) and pursued being a space pilot and than next is what happened in the show.... Imagine him feeling like 7th wheel but also feeling reluctant to use alchemy cause it killed Loraine again but also geeking over new material and it's science cause he still an alchemist by heart

Lance tells people he lost his arm in an accident. 

Climbing accident. Childhood accident. 

(It’s only partial truth. But Lance rejected the concept of truth as a kindness or something to value a long time ago. Truth is not his friend– Truth is honest, and honesty is rarely a kind or merciful thing.)

It’s fine, really, he tells them. He barely remembers it, between the pain and his age and the meds afterward. And he got a cool automail arm out of it that’s twice as strong and sturdy. Not as neat as Shiro’s but… not bad. 

(”I killed my sister.” The truth claws at his throat on sleepless nights, compelling him to discard his dollface and reveal the monster, the sinner, beneath. “And then I killed her again.”)

Lance comes from a family of alchemists– Not by profession or trade, but by natural ability and luck. His mother can fix holes in the roof with a piece of chalk and ten minutes grace. His grandfather can coax stones into little statues at the drop of a hat, for the amusement of the children of the house. His cousin can make sparks fly like fireworks every time she snaps her fingers together, thanks to the little stick-and-poke array tattoo on her palm she got in tenth grade, much to her parents’ woe. 

Oh no, not him, he responds when they ask. Never him. Alchemy seemed boring as a child. He was much more interested in soccer and t.v. and mud.

(Loraine was the best of all of them. She drew clumsy arrays onto her wrists and arms with permanent marker, and then refined, delicate ones as she got older. She could change stone and wrap metal. Freeze water with a touch and then bring it to the boil seconds later. A genius. She taught him everything he could ever want to know, decorating him with arrays when he was a toddler until their mother screamed at her to go wash him before he hurt himself accidentally transmuting something.)

People always accepted–do accept– this as truth. It’s just Lance, after all. Clumsy, bumbling Lance, who can’t keep his head on straight for more than two minutes. The idea of him applying himself to the concentrated, methodical work of alchemy training as a young child is such a laughable idea, he almost tricks himself into thinking the same. 

It’s a pretty lie, all tied up in ribbon and paper. Merciful to them, but mostly to himself. 

(He was taught what sins of alchemy are unforgivable before he could even fully understand them, lectured to him and his sister in their Grandmother’s croaking voice on cold winter nights. Not a pretty lesson to hear, to have drilled into your head over and over, but a necessary one.

…He never was very good at listening, anyways.)

Pidge is the only one on the team who can perform any alchemy. Mostly small transmutations, to fix broken equipment or repair frayed wires. Whenever she huffs and complains about wishing she’d read more books on the subject, how useful it would be out here, in the war, Hunk looks to Lance, and then bites his tongue. He may disapprove, but he’ll keep Lance’s secret until the day he dies, and for that much Lance is thankful.

(It took him two years after she died to figure out how, to stash the materials in the back shed under a tarp and learn to draw the circle. The risk inherent was assumed, and he was willing. Lance was thirteen and reckless and world-weary. His mother needed her baby back, his sisters their littlest member, his cousin her best friend. And he needed Loraine’s smile, one last time. If it killed him, it was a gladly given price.)

Sometimes it’s more than tempting, when they get divvied up into groups for missions and no one knows quite what to do with Lance. Good sniper, fast talker. Slow on the upkeep, mediocre pilot, too noisy, too silly. Fucking terrible at close combat.

These are truths, he doesn’t deny them.

But occasionally he can’t help himself, and forces old Galran ship construction texts through the translator, memorizes the elements both familiar and foreign, and does what he was born to do. Equivalent exchange and transmutation circles, and all the possibilities, stored away in the mental vault of things he’ll never let loose.

They’ll call for him when he falls behind on missions, and he’ll tear his eyes away from ship walls and chase after. He knows he can tear the place apart from the inside out with only a few presses of his hands, but he won’t. He can never go back, and this is the closest thing he has to atonement for his crimes.

(It seems almost fitting, that Truth would take his left arm. 

He’s no idiot, he knows it’s the hand that let go first, that let them fall and caused her death to begin with. The fact that it’s the price he paid to bring her back–to kill her all over again–is justified irony. 

Lance was prepared to give both body and soul for her. Instead, he lost what ruined him to begin with, in exchange for a long-haired, dead eyed creature of sour breath and creaking limbs, with none of his sister’s warmth or life.

They didn’t even bury it. Lance had stood in his oversized shirt, empty sleeve flapping in the wind, as Mavis burned the monster he had made of the person they both loved the most. Her lips were tight and she wouldn’t look at him, and he knew truth in shame.)

“What are you?” They ask him now and again, on those far away, newly liberated alien planets, and he shrugs.

Something the Truth swallowed whole, chewed up, and spat out again, half-dead and very much broken. Even that didn’t want to keep me.

“Just a leftover.” He says, and that is not quite a lie, either.

(No Truth is not a kind master. It rules from high above, and breaks the backs of anyone who dares to claim it as their own. 

Lance has seen Truth, and he knows what it is– The Truth is, he should have died when he was eleven, and he let his sister die in his place.)

The real lie is saying he survived. There was never anything left, after that.

Moi Moi Sauna ♪
Takahiro Mizushima
Moi Moi Sauna ♪

Moi Moi Sauna ♪ English Translation

「モイ! みなさん知ってましたか?

“Moi! Everyone, did you know? The word sauna comes from Finland!”

甘いもの好き 世界選手権好き

I love both sweets and world championships,


But I love saunas even more.

大切な文化 それだけじゃ

It’s just an important cultural thing.


It feels like something is missing…


That’s why I’ll introduce something to you ♪

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(うー!)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Uuu—!)

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(ワンッ)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Ruff!)

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(うー!)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Uuu—!)

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(ワンワンッ)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Ruff! Ruff!)

電気・薪・スモーク 種類はこんな感じです

Electricity, firewood, and smoke is what these look like,

可動式のサウナや  バスやボートについてるタイプもあります

Along with mobile saunas, there are also ones on buses and boats!


“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” ♪


The mind and body are sparkling☆


It’s not far from entering the sauna,


Something important is missing,


It becomes such a sensation!

大切な決断は会議室じゃなく  サウナで決まるんです!

Important decisions aren’t made in meetings, but rather in the sauna!

スススス Su・o・mi!


ぱぱぱんぱぱぱん ヴァスタでやさしく

Pa-pa-pan, pa-pa-pan, freshly and gently,

ぱぱぱんぱぱぱん からだをたたくと

Pa-pa-pan, pa-pa-pan, striking the body,


Your mind relaxes! (Fuu~)


Your skin is also smooth! (Yay!)

こんなに幸せ モイモイサウナ♪ (モイ!)

So happy, Moi Moi Sauna♪ (Moi!)

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(うー!)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Uuu—!)

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(ワンッ)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Ruff!)





“Ah, we’re together with Hanatamago! Isn’t she cute? Su-san thought so too. There were so many cool names to choose from! Like…’Special Attack! Bomb Bastard!’”*

ビールやサイダーを飲んで   色んな話をします

Drinking beer and cider, I’ll get pretty talkative!

ストーブの中で  マッカラあぶるのも楽しみです

I’m looking forward to roasting some makkara on the stove!



火照ったら クールダウン  して休みましょう

If your face is too flushed, let it cool down and rest a bit,

うっかりしていると… おひゃぁぁぁあぁ!Kuuma!

If you’re a little careless…ohyaaaaaa!! It’s hot!!

ぱしゃーんぱしゃーん 湖入ったり

Splashing, splashing, jumping into a lake,

ごろーんごろーん 雪に転がったり

Rolling, rolling, you can roll around in the snow!


In the midst of nature, (uwaah~)


It promotes blood circulation!? (Yay!)

こんなに楽しい モイモイサウナ♪

So fun, Moi Moi Sauna♪


”My motto is that one should enjoy anything ☆彡 There are a lot of world champions from my house. You can play the air guitar, pick mountain cranberries, throw rubber boots, and have snowball fights. Also, you can play soccer in the mud, or throw cell phones, or carry wives too… Next to Estonia, he’ll probably nab his way up higher. Speaking of Estonia, I can buy some of my favorite sweets at his house♪” 


白夜とか 極夜とか オーロラなんかも

Midnight suns, polar nights, and auroras,


Please come see them!

スススス Su・o・mi!


ぱぱぱんぱぱぱん ヴァスタでやさしく

Pa-pa-pan, pa-pa-pan, freshly and gently,

ぱぱぱんカラダ たたき合いましょう

Pa-pa-pan, let’s all strike our bodies,


Your mind relaxes! (Fuu~)


Your skin is also smooth! (Yay!)

こんなに幸せ モイモイサウナ♪ (モイ!)

So happy, Moi Moi Sauna♪ (Moi!)

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(うー!)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Uuu—!)

モモモーイ モイモイ モイモイモイ(モイモイ!)

Mo-mo-moi, mo-mo-moi, moi moi moi! (Moi moi!)

*Finland wanted to initially name Hanatamago that…

The Best Boyfriend Ever ft Kai

I got really sick the other week and this is the result. Enjoy! :)

On most days, Jongin was a calm driver. He could handle it when people cut him off, when they honked at him, or even when they were being blatantly incompetent. Those days were always days his girlfriend of seven months sat beside him in the passenger’s seat, swearing at other drivers like a true sailor. Her anger was cute enough to diffuse his.

But this evening, he wanted to run over all this traffic just so he could get to Sunhee’s place and unleash his anger.

He wasn’t even sure at whom he was angry with. They had attended a dinner with two other friends the other night, and it had been a disaster. Her friend turned out to be one of his exes, and the friend’s fucking date…

God, three days later and Jongin still wanted to punch the guy’s face.

At the parking lot to Sunhee’s apartment, Jongin pulled out his phone one last time.

Kim Jongin: Hey, you free to talk?

☼Sunheeeee☼: Not really..We can talk on our date next week

Jongin remembered receiving that text and not knowing what to say

Kim Jongin: Can I Skype you tomorrow at least?

Six hours later and no reply. This wasn’t like her at all. She should’ve been home hours ago and seen his text.

When he passed by her car on his way to the entrance of her building, his dread grew. He didn’t want to think she was deliberately ignoring her, but there was no helping it after what that fucking guy said at dinner.

“I heard a lot about you, Kim Jongin. You’ve been popular with the ladies since high school, am I right? All these years and not a single girl has been able to hold you for more than, what? Two months?”

Then that little piece of shit dared to glance over at Sunhee.

“Six months is pretty incredible and, if I do say so myself, slightly unbelievable for a man formidable as yourself.”

Jongin remembered growling something along the lines of “seven months, fuckface” but he was saved by Sunhee’s laugh and witty joke. When he had looked over, she looked as welcoming as ever but she refused to make eye contact with him for the rest of the night.

Since then, Jongin had the sick feeling that she was doing her best to avoid him.

Keep reading

[Notice] Official Fancafe Level-Up Announcement

This is the person in charge of the B.A.P fanclub.
These are the details regarding leveling up on the official fan cafe.
If you change your nickname to one that goes against the regulations you will be demoted without notice.

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  • 1) Unify your post titles to [B.A.P 공식팬카페 등업신청합니다.]
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If being returned, (your post) will be moved to the Level-up Return Bulletin Board.
Please re-apply/re-submit following the correct formats after checking the reasons for being returned.

3. Nickname Regulation Information :

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(You’ll be able to view these questions once you click ‘글쓰기’)

  • *Unify the post title to [B.A.P 공식팬카페 등업신청합니다.] (Bold, font color, size no format)
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1. Write your name/Daum ID/nickname/age/location

2. Write the B.A.P member’s name, date of birth, and blood type in age order.[ex) OOO / YY.MM.DD / O]

3. Write the first solo concert name and date.

4. From episode 8 of ‘TA-DAH! IT’S B.A.P,’  what were the separate roles (of the members) in the self produced music video Secret Love?

5. In episode 2 of Killing Camp, how were the gray and white teams divided for the mud flat soccer(list the names of members by the groups they were divided into) and which team won?

6. From B.A.P’s 1st single album ‘WARRIOR’, list the jacket pictures in order.

7. Write an encouraging message to the B.A.P members at least 3 lines long. (Prohibiting the use of vowel&consonant, (pressing the) enter key, special characters, and spacing between words)

trans cr; woojung&nicole @ baptrans ; take out with full credit

anonymous asked:

Sakamaki/mukami boys watching g there s/o in class and then start sexually fantasing. Like she becomes another person. Like a kinky teacher or what ever else idk. The though makes me laugh. You're great btw. I love you so much and your blog 💙💙

((I am not entirely sure what you are asking for, but I guess what sexual fantasy they would have of their lover in class when they are bored? XD And thank you, love you too dear anon-chan~))

Shu - A mature teacher giving him a lesson on a subject he is failing, giving him a foot job as well and seeing how long he can keep his composure.

Reiji - Him being a teacher who has to discipline his student, perhaps spanking her with the ruler.

Ayato - A young, hot as fuck teacher wearing a tight skirt and revealing shirt who basically makes him stay after class to give him… lessons on the human body.

Laito - A cute school girl who has been a little too naughty and needs her senpai to punish her… in class… where everyone can see…

Kanato - A girl in a cute frilly apron; just bring out that bun in the oven.

Subaru - An empty classroom and she has been teasing him a bit too much earlier with those faint caress and dirty murmurs in his ear, making him break his pencil. He takes her against the desk roughly, taking his sexual frustration on her as she claws his back and screams out his name.

Kino - She shoves him into a bathroom stall after he couldn’t resist a sip of her blood, murmuring out how she wants to taste him too, tugging down his pants.

Ruki - Him being a teacher who has to discipline his student harshly, binding her up with the class tape, gaging her with her panties, and spanking her with his ruler.

Yuma - She is dirty from playing soccer in the mud outside and she needs her big bear to clean her in the shower. Too bad she is going to get dirty again.

Kou - She wears a sexy cat costume for halloween, purrs in his ear that she would like a private shoot with him, and mewls in pleasure as he takes her in a closest where anyone can hear outside.

Azusa - She murmurs some sweet words and promises of pleasurable pain in his ear, undressing him slowly in an empty classroom and pressing the blade to his skin as he lies on the cold tiles on the classroom floor.

Just the Three of Us

Title: Just the Three of Us

Author: Peg

Rating: K

Prompt: based off this one here. Jack runs into you, leading to reader and Hotch meeting.

Warning: thunderstorm, little kid gets kinda hurt

Word count: 859

Notes: All of the Hotch fluff!! It was nice to write something different. I kinda want to write a part two but I don’t know??

Multishot: maybe. Message me here on my blog if you want a part two!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you write about daddy!cal with his baby boys and baby girl? Btw I'm in love with your blog babes <3

thanks, babes xx :-)

it’d be the family’s first big trip since your little girl’s birth four years ago so you could only imagine the children’s reactions as you and daddy!calum let them know you’d be vacationing together at disneyland - which led your seven-year-old twin boys, who’d already returned from football (soccer) practice covered in mud and sweat, to streak around your home whilst screaming at the top of their lungs “TO INFINITY AND BEYOND” while your daughter giggled uncontrollably and squealed about meeting princesses and how she wanted to where her dress and tiara when she got to go - so getting them to even try to go to bed later that night would be enough of a struggle; though, the day of your little holiday - with your daughter all dressed up in her green ballgown and plastic tiara and your sons deciding to dress the parts of phineas and ferb - calum didn’t seem nearly as stressed about the money as he thought he would, actually wandering the park with his little girl who wanted nothing more than to get a picture taken of her kissing her daddy on the cheek in front of the castle when it was glowing at night - but mostly to meet all of the princesses and princes, and hopefully snag a peck on the cheek from aladdin like you told her - but there was also the little adventures with his twin boys talking excitedly about cars and toy story and, oh god, had you seen their chubby cheek, toothless grins when they met baymax then you’re heart would’ve fucking melted - which was another reason you were grateful to snap a pic while you got the chance. but even after a day of rollercoasters and balloons, fried foods and magic beneath the hot sun, calum didn’t mind it one bit when his daughter curled up to his side - his arm practically cradling her - and his sons latched onto his torso and treated him as though he was a human body pillow atop the hotel bed - each of their eyes heavy with sleep and bodies fatigued - with you lying a mere inch or two away. in fact, he liked those moments most. 

@ evil soccer moms

remember when stephen said he would literally rather take a picture of his dick and balls and have it roll around on the internet instead of pictures of his daughter and family.