I split my time between Northwest, Washington and Los Angeles. While I’m shooting on SPN, I live in Washington and my kids are in school here in Washington now so we are trying to make this more of our home base, but we still spend about three months out of the year in LA. Which, yknow, is still great. I like this setup that we have right now. I’m not gonna pick a favorite because that’s not nice, but I like Washington better. I like this balance of having something that’s not in the big city be the home base, but being able to spend a reasonably significant amount of time in the big city and culture-factory that Los Angeles is. I really like this town of - we’re in a place called Bellingham, which got a population of 82 thousand and it’s really accessible and beautiful, it’s right on the water. I’m looking out the window right now at islands and a cargo ship going by. It’s just really- I can show it to you. That’s the view up here. It’s pretty awesome, so that’s great. But it’s nice to be able to go back into LA and be with some real heavy hitters that are making the culture that the rest of the world consumes. So I like to have my toes in both ponds. [x]
”There’s a hundred-thousand streets in this city. You don’t need to know the route. You give me a time and a place, I give you a five minute window. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. Do you understand?”
Mabel Hampton was a famous African-American lesbian activist.
She was a dancer in New York City in the 1920s, where she starred in all-black productions during the Harlem Renaissance. Mabel Hampton was in a romantic relationship with Lillian Foster, for 46 years until Foster’s death.
On a meager income, she managed to make many financial contributions to many gay and lesbian organizations.
Hampton collected memorabilia, letters, and other records documenting her history, providing a window into the lives of black women and lesbians during the Harlem Renaissance. She left a legacy of invaluable archival materials to the Lesbian Herstory Archives. She also marched in the first National Gay and Lesbian March on Washington. Then in 1984, she spoke before thousands of onlookers at New York City Lesbian and Gay Pride Parade, where, she is quoted as saying, “I, Mabel Hampton, have been a lesbian all my life, for 82 years, and I am proud of myself and my people. I would like all my people to be free in this country and all over the world, my gay people and my black people.”
And just to be sure that we’re all on the same page: there are no bright yellow school busses in Baltimore City. The police shut down public transportation and filled the streets with an army in riot gear. Thousands of teens on those same streets, trying to get home. How many were scared to make eye contact for fear of being the next Freddie Gray? How many were pissed-off enough to break a window or set a fire?
okay so this is a tumblr-exclusive ficlet for the kids who came with me when i had to jump ship on my old blog and move to this one.
like in 12″ by 8″, Kara and Lena have been canon through s1 in this story. i’m sure this prompt has been done a thousand times, but i promised fluff, and i’ve always wanted to do plotless fluff on this prompt lmao.
it’s mostly just little snippets.
night is alive around them, neon lights flickering in city windows and creating
the illusion that they are surrounded by quiet fireflies. Kara stares at the pod, J’onn’s hand on her shoulder, the cold air hovering
like a lookout, watching over them. There is a moment – an infinite moment that
is somehow also far too short – where anything could be in the pod, anyone. Her mother. Her father. Her best friend from school when she was young. A complete and total stranger who shares her culture and history, and has come to
lessen the ever-aching weight on her spine. She wants to stay frozen in that world of possibility forever, where nothing
ever must be real or unreal ever again. But she can’t, so she uses her super-speed to rip off the band-aid, and tears
the pod open in a fraction of a second. The faster the less painful. She looks down, bracing herself the renewed loss of all the people it turns out
not to be. Oh.
“… He was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by tetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.
Harry hurried forward into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the previous year, finally pausing beside a large cupboard that seemed to have had acid thrown at its blistered surface. He opened one of the cupboard’s creaking doors: It had already been used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long since died; its skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the Half-Blood Princes book behind the cage and slammed the door. He paused for a moment, his heart thumping horribly, gazing around at all the clutter… . Would he be able to find this spot again amidst all this junk? Seizing the chipped bust of an ugly old warlock from on top of a nearby crate, he stood it on top of the cupboard where the book was now hidden, perched a dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara on the statues head to make it more distinctive…”
Louis and Harry, best friends since before either of them can remember, broke up four years ago. Louis has achieved his dreams of becoming the next big thing while Harry has stayed back, dedicating himself to his studies. Both are content to forget what they had together, until a tragedy brings them right back into each other’s lives.
A-list actor Harry Styles and award-winning musician Louis Tomlinson have an acquaintances-with-benefits relationship, so whenever their busy professional lives happen to land them in the same city, they meet up. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. And that’s all it is. Until it isn’t.
They share earbuds for the rest of their time waiting to board— Bitty’s never been so grateful for his portable charger before. With some time and effort, he takes a page or so of notes on his Food Science reading, but he’s not actually convinced he’s absorbed any of it. His mind is too busy screaming because in a matter of minutes, Jack Zimmermann had met him, come out to him, listened to Beyonce with him, and asked him to come to a hockey game Saturday night. Bitty will be hard put to get any sleep on the flight if this keeps up.
He must have dozed off at some point, because Bitty knows he was just jotting down a couple more notes, but the next thing he knows, his notebook has slid off his lap onto the floor and Jack is tapping his shoulder. “Bitty? It’s almost time to board.”
“Oh, is it?” Bitty says once he’s had a chance to look around at his surroundings a bit more. The people on their flight seem to be the only ones left in the airport, spread out in the chairs or sprawled on the ground to take a nap. “I must have drifted off, sorry.”
And there’s that smile again, considerably wider and brighter than any he’s ever seen from Jack on TV. “It’s okay. But we’re boarding soon, so you might want to pack your things up?”
“What seat do you have?”
Bitty digs his boarding pass out of his backpack. “23C.”
“Oh,” Jack says, looking a bit put out. “I’m in business class.”
“You’d have to be to have enough room to stretch your legs out, now, wouldn’t you?” Bitty jokes, but he understands Jack’s tiny pout, which, by the way, is adorable— moving on. “Not all of us are over six feet tall.”
“No, I guess you aren’t.” Jack frowns for a moment as he thinks, then says, “Wait here” before getting up and going to the desk where the flight attendants are standing, looking as equally bored and tired as their passengers.
Bitty sincerely hopes he isn’t changing his seat to economy. He knows from his teammates (particularly Holster) that for most hockey players, himself excluded, cramming one’s legs into an economy seat is just not feasible for any flight longer than an hour or two. As much as he’d like to be able to sit by Jack during the flight, Jack has a game tomorrow. Surely he should know that’s a bad idea.
He packs up his things anyway, since there are only ten or so minutes until boarding, and watches as Jack discusses something with the flight attendant talking to him. They’re too far away for Bitty to hear a word they’re saying, but he sees the flight attendant nod and Jack smile. He comes back with a piece of paper in hand and offers it to Bitty.
“This is a boarding pass.”
“With my name on it, and it says business class.”
Jack nods again.
“Jack Zimmermann, I hope you are not saying that you paid to upgrade my seat to business class. I can’t pay you back!”
“I asked them to transfer my frequent flier miles to your account,” Jack says. “There were enough for a free upgrade. Didn’t cost a cent.”
“I am flabbergasted.”
“Oh.” There it is again, the sad eyes that remind Bitty of a puppy and break his heart simultaneously. “I can take it back if you—”
“No, no, I wasn’t saying that,” Bitty says hurriedly. “But… it’s kind of a lot, isn’t it?”
“No, I always fly business class,” Jack says matter-of-factly. “I didn’t have a use for that upgrade anyway. And I wanted to keep talking to you.”
Good lord. Jack is blushing again and Bitty really is not sure he can handle it. What on earth is he supposed to say to that?
“Well, thank you very much, but I hope you don’t regret it,” Bitty’s mouth says of its own will. “I can get very chatty, which I don’t think is desirable for red-eye flights.”
Then he curses himself. That was definitely not the expression of gratitude he wanted to say.
“That’s okay,” Jack says. “I like hearing you talk.”
“You are going to be the death of me if you keep saying things like that, Mr. Zimmermann.”
“I fully intend to.”
The flight attendant calls for first class to board, and then business class and it’s time for them to go. Bitty holds out his new boarding pass to the flight attendant, who smiles at him and Jack and says “Enjoy the flight.”
“We will,” Jack says, and Bitty can’t keep himself from smiling.
Friends with Benefits!au | College!au ; 3.4k words of cringe worthy fluff.
“I’ll give you a thousand.”
“A thousand and one.”
His eyes were the shade of
deep brown with specks of honey gold that you could easily get lost into,
beneath the bright stripes of city lights splayed over the bed through the window. And those beautiful dark hues were currently looking
at you, sending your heart soaring into your throat, making you feel warmer
underneath tangled sheets.
“What?” You bit your bottom
lip, chuckling from the giddiness but never shying away from his gaze.
He lips curved into the
most radiant smile, the sun didn’t even come close in comparison. A set of
pearly white teeth blinded your sight as he returned your amused look.
“You know, from this
distance you look kinda sorta pretty.” He offhandedly insulted.
“There’s a hundred-thousand streets in this city. You don’t need to know the route. You give me a time and a place, I give you a five minute window. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. Do you understand?”
Imagine it’s you who Sandor takes away from Kings Landing during the Battle of Blackwater Bay
Word count: 1,377
You had always known there was more to Sandor Clegane than
he would show. Sure, he was rough around the edges a little. He drank and
cursed and didn’t even try to show that he gave a shit about nobility and
titles. But he was nice to you and Lady Sansa, he truly seemed to care about
what happened to you. But it wasn’t until the night of the battle…the Battle of
Blackwater Bay when he came back to the castle, to take you away, that you
realized how much he actually cared about you…not just about what happened. His
hands were rough as they grabbed at your arms, shook you a little as if that
would help you make a decision faster, and the wine on his breath told you he
was not exactly sober.
Do you know what’s something Taylor’s done in her songwriting that I really enjoy and would like to see more of?
Bookending songs. Ending songs with the same lyric she started with.
‘You said the way my blue eyes shined put those Georgia stars to shame that night, I said that’s a lie’
‘Drew looks at me I fake a smile so he won’t see’
'We were both young when I first saw you’
'Take a deep breath as you walk through the doors’
'Loving him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street’
You could even argue I Almost Do despite the changing lyric. 'I bet this time of night you’re still up, I bet you’re tired from a long hard week, I bet you’re sitting in your chair by the window looking out at the city and I bet/hope sometimes you wonder bout me’
It’s modern day and the farm is cold,
oh how it is frigid even while Persephone’s mother
hums over the hearth, the heart of the home.
It is summer time,
but Persephone can only dream of the
cold city bones and gazing upon the tiny humans
from the bed shared with her Hades.
You would think she would get used to this,
but oh no, never ever, the distance is to much,
half of her is always with him
and when she is with her mother,
oh oh oh, she is torn in two, lost in the daydreams
and waiting to sneak a call to her dark lover.
She lingers by the window,
thinking she can glimpse those tall giants,
the skyscrapers that humans have built,
daring to ascend in ways Olympus never had.
Her Hades rules there, a giant among CEOs
making bank, giving her the world he promised.
Persephone is his Queen,
but here on her mother’s farm,
she is but a daughter,
forever beloved, forever smothered,
thousands of years later.
I can’t believe it’s Yugyeom birthday already! Of course I had to write a special birthday smut for him. I hope all of you like it! :D (Especially all of you patient noona fans ;) ;) ;)
You and Yugyeom decide to wait until his birthday to take things to the next
level, and for his birthday, you plan a special trip to Las Vegas.
a long day, you came home and saw your boyfriend’s car parked outside of your
house. Yugyeom didn’t live with you, but he had a key to your apartment. You
ran to your door, excited to see him. You quickly unlocked the door and looked
around for him. When you saw him sitting on the couch, watching TV, you scurried
and sat in his lap so you were facing him. You wrapped your arms around his
neck, and he quickly turned off the TV.
Dex knows something’s wrong when he gets a full week into summer break without hearing from Derek Nurse even once. Not a drunken text, not a stray emoji in the group chat, nothing.
It shouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t care. Except that it’s unusual for Nursey not to go out of his way to keep up with his teammates, not to go out of his way to poke at Dex in particular, and so Dex is…
Well, “worried” is too strong of a word. It’s only been a week. Nursey is probably just off gallivanting around Europe with all of his rich Andover friends and hasn’t had a sober moment to spare a single thought to the SMH or to his fellow d-man.
There’s a hundred-thousand streets in this city. You don’t need to know the route. You give me a time and a place, I give you a five minute window. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. Do you understand?