What would Kamui and Katsura do if their s/o is throwing a tantrum at them?? I love your work <3
He just watches you with a big smile on his lips. It’s funny to him especially because it’s something he doesn’t see everyday. In a way, he’s more focused on your behaviour than the actual reason WHY you’re acting that way
however he is not a man of patience and Kamui really doesn’t see why he’d have to take in your tantrum for longer than a few minutes. If you start to annoy him he’ll either leave or if you won’t allow him that, press his hand on your mouth to shut you up
He has his own pace and if your reason for your anger fit is something related to his character or his way of living, don’t expect him to take you serious. He’ll wave you off with a cute smile and say “alriiight, I understaaand!” And do the exact same thing again next day
But if it’s something serious, maybe related to his pirate business or your safety/comfort Kamui does try to better himself. You simply have to remind him every few days otherwise he’ll forget
Once the problem is settled, he takes you into his arms and pecks your cheek. “Have you calmed down now? It was funny but don’t be like that too often or you’ll end up like my old man.”
He listens. Katsura takes it very seriously (especially if it’s about him) but once you get too lengthy HE’ll throw a tantrum back
“Oh, my dvds bother you?! Well, what about your manga eh?! They’re everywhere !! You never place them in the shelves !!”
This goes back and forth for as long as you two find something to say about the other. You two drag this out and once you get caught up in the heat of the moment and say something that could be taking personally Eli punches both of you
You two calm down after that rubbing your swollen cheeks. Katsura starts sulking and leaves the room to sort himself. He comes back a few hours later so you two can talk about things again (yes this giant drama will happen for the smallest reasons)
Afterwards the two of you watch your favorite tv drama and cuddle up under a blanket or kotatsu
it’s not about that i know how to do laundry. it’s that when i was four i knew how to fold clothes; small hands working alongside my mother, while my older brother sat and played with his toys. it’s that i know what kind of detergent works but my father guesses. it’s that in my freshman year of college i had a line of boys who needed me to show them how to use the machine. it’s that the first door they knocked on belonged to me. it’s that they expected me to know.
it’s not that i know how to cook. it’s that the biggest christmas present i got was a little plastic kitchenette i never used except to climb on. it’s that my brother used it more, his hands ghosting over pink buttons and yellow dials. it’s that when my work needs cake for a birthday, they turn to me. i get it from costco. i don’t even like cooking. a boy burns popcorn in the dorm microwave and laughs. a week later, i do the same thing, and he snorts at me, “just crossed you off my wife list.” it’s that i had heard something like this so many times before that i laughed, too.
it’s not that i don’t love being feminine. it’s that i came home with bruises from trying to be a trick rider on my bike and heard the word “tomboy,” felt my little mouth say, “but i’m not a boy, i’m a girl”. it’s that they laughed. it’s that until i was sitting in my pretty dress and smiling with a big pretty smile and blinking my big pretty eyes, i wasn’t given back the title “girl”. it’s that until i wore makeup and styled my hair i was bullied; it’s that when i don’t wear makeup i’m a slob, that my mental health diagnosis hangs on the hook of being dressed up. it’s that my therapist sees me returning to bright red lipstick and tells me i am looking happier and i have to explain that i am more sad than i have ever been. it’s that i dress myself in as many layers as i can every time i ride a train because it’s better to be laughed at than harassed.
it’s not that i know how to clean, it’s that my brother’s chores were outside where i wanted to be, and mine were inside. it’s that i would have weeded the garden better than he did if they had just let me. it’s that i am put in charge of fixing other’s messes, expected to comply without complaint.
it’s not that i can’t open the jar. it’s that you ask my brother first every time. it’s that i am pushed into docile positions, trained to believe that my body when it’s strong and healthy is ugly, trained into being less, weaker. it’s that the jar is also science, is also engineering, is also every job, every opportunity. it’s that you laugh faster when he tells a joke, that you take him seriously but wave off me, that when he raises his voice he’s assertive but when i do i’m hysterical. the jar is getting into a car with a stranger as a driver and wondering if this is our last ride. the jar is knowing that if something happens to us, it’s our fault.
it’s that i’m weak and i don’t know if it’s because i just am or i was trained to be. it’s that we need to sit pretty with our pretty smiles and our pretty words trapped pretty and silent in our throats, our hands restless but pretty when idle, our bodies vessels for nothing but a future white dress. it’s that we are taught someone else needs to open the jar for us.
here’s the secret: run metal lids under hot water, they’ll expand faster than the glass they’re around. here’s the secret: when you keep us under hot water, we do more than boil. we expand over our edges. and we learn how to open our mouths, our claws, our screams hanging in kites over cities. just give me a chance. give me a chance when i am four when i am seven when i am twenty-three. i promise i can be amazing. give me the jar. i’ll show you something.
Early astronomers faced an obstacle: their technology. These great minds only had access to telescopes that revealed celestial bodies shining in visible light. Later, with the development of new detectors, scientists opened their eyes to other types of light like radio waves and X-rays. They realized cosmic objects look very different when viewed in these additional wavelengths. Pulsars — rapidly spinning stellar corpses that appear to pulse at us — are a perfect example.
The first pulsar was observed 50 years ago on August 6, 1967, using radio waves, but since then we have studied them in nearly all wavelengths of light, including X-rays and gamma rays.
Most pulsars form when a star — between 8 and 20 times the mass of our sun — runs out of fuel and its core collapses into a super dense and compact object: a neutron star.
These neutron stars are about the size of a city and can rotate slowly or quite quickly, spinning anywhere from once every few hours to hundreds of times per second. As they whirl, they emit beams of light that appear to blink at us from space.
One day five decades ago, a graduate student at the University of Cambridge, England, named Jocelyn Bell was poring over the data from her radio telescope - 120 meters of paper recordings.
Image Credit: Sumit Sijher
She noticed some unusual markings, which she called “scruff,” indicating a mysterious object (simulated above) that flashed without fail every 1.33730 seconds. This was the very first pulsar discovered, known today as PSR B1919+21.
Best Known Pulsar
Before long, we realized pulsars were far more complicated than first meets the eye — they produce many kinds of light, not only radio waves. Take our galaxy’s Crab Nebula, just 6,500 light years away and somewhat of a local celebrity. It formed after a supernova explosion, which crushed the parent star’s core into a neutron star.
The resulting pulsar, nestled inside the nebula that resulted from the supernova explosion, is among the most well-studied objects in our cosmos. It’s pictured above in X-ray light, but it shines across almost the entire electromagnetic spectrum, from radio waves to gamma rays.
Located in the Tarantula Nebula 163,000 light-years away, PSR J0540-6919 gleams nearly 20 times brighter in gamma-rays than the pulsar embedded in the Crab Nebula.
Dual Personality Pulsar
No two pulsars are exactly alike, and in 2013 an especially fast-spinning one had an identity crisis. A fleet of orbiting X-ray telescopes, including our Swift and Chandra observatories, caught IGR J18245-2452 as it alternated between generating X-rays and radio waves.
Scientists suspect these radical changes could be due to the rise and fall of gas streaming onto the pulsar from its companion star.
This just goes to show that pulsars are easily influenced by their surroundings. That same year, our Fermi Gamma Ray Space Telescopeuncovered another pulsar, PSR J1023+0038, in the act of a major transformation — also under the influence of its nearby companion star.
The radio beacon disappeared and the pulsar brightened fivefold in gamma rays, as if someone had flipped a switch to increase the energy of the system.
its been awhile since ive done a giveaway and thats mostly because i dont really have anything to giveaway haha
BUT since im a music photographer i thought id give away 4 prints!
heres a list of artists/bands ive photographed: Gerard Way, MSI, Rise Against, Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce the Veil, Biffy Clyro, PVRIS, All Time Low, The 1975, Placebo, White Lies, The Used, Breaking Benjamin, Chantal Claret, The Amity Affliction, Taking Back Sunday, PALE WAVES, A Day To Remember, AX7, Of Mice & Men, and many more!
(here’s just an example of some of my photos - i have many more to choose from)
anyway, you know how it works! reblog and follow to enter (no giveaway blogs!), winner will be chosen on dec 25! open worldwide!
once ive contacted you as the winner you can let me know who you want prints of and ill show you which photos i have and you can choose 4 :)
Incredible Aerial Photography of The Earth’s Beaches
Photography duo Salty Wings are a pair of professional drone and aerial photographers comprised of Jampal and Michael Goetze. In their latest collaborative project, the pair has featured amazing views of numerous beaches that take shots of the tumbling waves of aquamarine blue colliding beaches and rocky cliffs.
you want to paint the underside of your coffin with glow in the dark stars so you’ve got something to look at. when you were in mass last sunday god spoke to you directly and asked you to please stop it. you’ve been trying to stop it.
she’s wearing a red dress that hugs her waist so tight that you picture your hands searching for your sanity somewhere in the folds of that body. between thighs like that. is this objectifying her? you worry to yourself, smashing lipstick on.
your head already hurts, and there’s a girl who is puking in the corner. you ask her if she needs anything, and she tells you she likes your dress, and you say thank you do you need water, and she says, it’s okay i’m going to die here, and you say, okay let me bring you water. so you bring her water, even though the other girls look nasty at you when you cut the line. it’s not for me, you try to explain, weakly, over bass that is breaking your eardrums. nobody likes a hero. the girl is surprised you’re back. she spits up daintily, almost neatly, and drinks the water in a single chug. she tells you to go back to partying, so you do, because she tells you to.
where the hell is your friend. it’s not like she promised she’d stay next to you but here you are and here she isn’t, which is either rude for both of you or just the average way of things.
nervous hands bring you back to the bar where at least you can linger and pout and think about god, and his hands, and the sun coming up tomorrow on the bones of your body. where if you keep your eyes down and don’t look up you won’t remember that all places of worship are churches and here you are, nursing a vodka tonic you finished five minutes ago, praying about hell while women cagedance not more than six yards from where you sit.
a man in a suit - an honest-to-god suit - comes up to you. the cloth is powder blue. he asks if you want a drink. you don’t. you say yes because your mother taught you not to turn down free things. he orders you something you don’t like and you lean across the bar and tell the bartender nicely that unless he wants you to die you will be drinking a shot of fireball and nothing else, thank you. the bartender says, i don’t want you to die.
you don’t say, okay, but, what if someone would finally let me die. that’s dark. that’s something you stow for your friend who has a good enough sense of humor.
you smile at the man, take the shot, wave at him, ask him to come dance, melt away into the crowd with that ability you learned somewhere in high school. now you’re alone again and can’t go back to the bar because the man will be looking. you remember you’ve got a phone finally.
you ask your friend where she is. she doesn’t reply coherently, but you like the addition of the cat emoji.
some terrible part of you slips into your skin now, the ache of wanting out. so you go out.
and there’s the girl in the red dress.
you feel yourself choke like a car engine and it’s gosh dang embarrassing.
she’s laughing, blowing smoke up at the building. a man is standing next to her, but she makes eye contact with you. you ask her if she’s willing to bum you one. you’ve never smoked in your life and you’re terrified of them like guns. she nods and slips you a clover. you don’t let your hands shake in the glow of the lighter, only after, only when she smiles at you and asks you how you’re doing.
how am i doing? i’m very lonely and i think god abandoned me and it feels like a train wreck inside me. i feel myself reversing. my headlights are going out. tomorrow already hurts.
instead you shrug and say something inconsequential. you say, that’s a nice dress. even manage to keep how hard your heart is pounding out of it.
isn’t it? asks the man. you now remember he’s here. you have the urge to smoke suddenly. inhale deeply.
sorry to bother you, you say, just got too loud in there.
she nods, looking at you, mouth in a pretty smile. not bothering, she says, it’s okay. want to go back in with me?
her outstretched hand is soft and cold. you drop the clover. once inside she shouts over the music to you about how men are creeps. her lip touches your ear while she speaks. her hand doesn’t leave yours. she pulls you to the dance floor. your heart feels like a carousel.
she dances. your throat is dry. she takes your other hand and makes you dance with her, a silly little twisting thing. your palms are sweaty and she is laughing. she leans in to speak with you, pressing up against your body. there is lightning shooting out over your skin. she smells like roses. her hair seems soft.
she’s whispering something and for a second, the sound of corroding stops in your brain. like the train finally derailed and now it’s dead and can leave you out of it. like stuff gets quiet even though you’re drunk in public on a friday night.
so this is worship, then, you think.
you say, sorry, and she says ? for what? and you can’t speak.
Summary: Newt sets his rules straight and claims what’s rightfully his.
A/N: Short, filler imagine. Life’s been throwing a lot at me, hope y’all understand.
“So you’re telling me that she’s the only girl here in the middle of sixty or so boys?” Thomas was baffled. He frowned. “Isn’t that kind of hard for her? Y’know…”
“I guess,” Newt shrugged. “I hope not.”
Thomas gave him a confused look, to which Newt sighed.
“I make it quite clear to the others that if they do anything of the slightest that makes her feel comfortable, I’ll have their heads,” Newt spoke of it like it was the most normal thing ever.
“She seems to be really important to you.” Thomas muttered, eyeing his moonshine.
“She’s my life,” Newt said almost immediately. ”I’d fight off whatever buggin’ touches her if that’s what it bloody takes to keep her alive.”
As if on cue, you take a seat beside Newt, waving shyly at Thomas.
“Hi, Thomas,” you smile at him, wrapping your arms around Newt.
“Hi, Y/N.” he smiled.
“How’s the Glade so far? Has Gally gotten to you yet?” you teased.
“Nah.” he looked down, uncertain of what he should say. “I sure hope he doesn’t.”
You laughed. “Gally may be intimidating, but he’s a teddy bear inside.”
Newt spoke up. “That’s only when he’s around you, love.” and you were reminded of the subtle but constant conflict between Gally and your boyfriend.
“He’ll come around.” you replied, leaning on Newt’s shoulder.
“You tired?” Newt looked at you.
“I know you are,” you smiled, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “You should stop fussing over the Glade too much.”
“I’ll stop when the shanks get their klunk together.” Newt huffed, turning to Thomas. “I’ll take this one to bed before things get crazy.”
You pouted. “Oh, please. Minho hasn’t even started yet!”
“You are not going to watch Minho get drunk, Y/N.” Newt stood up and pulled you up with him.
“I’ll say good night to Minnie, at least.” you pleaded, to which Newt nodded and sat back beside Thomas.
“Minho’s the closest thing Y/N has to a brother,” Newt explained. “He’s good for her. He likes to have fun with her but he also knows when it isn’t bloody safe anymore. He takes care of her when I’m not around.”
Thomas nodded. “I can tell why you all like her so much.”
Newt chuckled. “Well, off I go. If I don’t go to her now, she’ll never leave his side.”
Newt turned his back to Thomas and was about to limp away when Thomas spoke up.
“Take care of her, okay? Don’t break her heart.”
Newt smiled sadly at him “If anything, she could break my heart by simply smiling.”