travel buzz


“How many nipples does she have?” I asked as I saw her loping around on bad legs. “2, just like us Lob,” replied our guide. With every question I had, our guide Petch’s Thai smile grew wider and correspondingly, my curiosity grew more unhinged. I felt I had many questions about elephants and so ignored the sharp elbow to the side from my wife and asked away. “You ask many questions, Lob.”

About an hour north of Chiang Mai is The Elephant Nature Park. You can almost hear the Jurassic Park theme play as you enter the leafy jungle road. Tall, green and lush trees trap the humidity at a low level, and even though I’m in an air-conditioned van, I sweat. For a city boy like myself, it’s rare to see an animal that is not a dog or cat. So when I first saw elephants on the road the on my way to the park I was floored. Big, hulking yet effective in their strides, I saw about half a dozen elephants saddled with wooden boxes carrying two people on their backs and a guide. I was amazed as to how animals of such power, and from what I’ve heard intelligence, can be trusted with three souls on their backs.

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You and I are examples of how synonyms
are not always interchangeable

You and I are soft.
You are soft like a favorite pair of jeans, worn threadbare over the years. The vague threat of a tear is present at the knees, but they’re intact for now; perfect.
I am soft like rot, the flesh of a fruit giving way under the lightest touch. The evidence of things forgotten, stems of dead flowers left too long in murky water.

You and I are proof of how what is said
is less important than how it is said

You and I are tragedies.
You are a tragedy in that you are exposed to this world, innocence and purity so much like the throat of a rabbit exposed to the wolves. It is tragic that you will someday die and leave the world that much darker for your absence.
I am a tragedy of the traditional sort, a walking disaster barely fit to bear the title of human. Something to pity, something to loathe, something to consider an example - the embodiment of a cautionary tale.

You and I are the difference between doing what is right
and doing what needs to be done

We are like liquor, you and I.
You go down soft and smooth, vintage wine in crystal glasses. The pleasant buzz that travels along your nerves and sets everything afloat, brain foggy but filled with nothing but satisfaction. 
I’m more like cheap vodka, bottom-shelf poison useful for nothing more than forgetting the day, hangover starting the moment it touches your lips. There is no god at the bottom of this bottle. There never will be.


Celebrate Flag Day with this NASA image of the stars and stripes on the moon. Learn about the extraordinary group of Apollo mission photos recently added to our photography collection.

The photos are currently on view through March 12, 2017 in From the Collection: 1960–1969.

[Untitled photograph from the Apollo 11 mission. July 1969. The Museum of Modern Art, New York]

Fright Night (Part one)

Alrighty, as promised here’s part one of the Halloween Special. I was right in thinking it was going to be in two parts, as this first half is nearly 5,000 words alone eheh. I hope you all enjoy this horror themed one shot! However, it’s rather light in this part, things actually get much more dark and exciting in the sequel that I’m purposely holding off on posting until Halloween ;) for now enjoy a protective puppy Jacob. Oh, and a special appearance of Evie, Henry, Arno and Élise! 

Warnings: Sexual Harassment, anxiety, an extremely protective British biscuit

Words: 4,843

((Jacob Frye x Fem!Reader)) 

Summary: You make plans to go through a haunted house attraction with Jacob and friends to celebrate Halloween, but it seems fate has other plans as a harmless joke becomes all too real. 

Part two here

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One Red Thread

Title: One Red Thread (Part 1 of Red String of Fate Series)

Read Part 2 - The Promise here

Pairing: Reader x Dean

Word Count: 3.373

Theme song: One Red Thread by Blind Pilot, I’ll Be Seeing You by Etta James

Request: Ur r an amazing writer! I had an idea for an imagine about dean and the reader were dating and then something happened on a hunt to make her loose her memory but unlike other requests she doesn’t get it back and Dean realizes that she has to start a new life so he lets her go out into the world. But quite a while passes and the reader is about to get married to some dude and then on her wedding day she remembers everything and leaves the other guy to find dean still in her wedding dress. Thanks!

A/N: Thank you so much! I loved writing this one–it got a little longer than some of my others but I have plans for this! :)


Your name: submit What is this?


It began with a promise.

Your free hand was tangled with Dean’s as you sat at the table in the center of the library, both of you reading about, of all things, dragons.

“You sure that’s what we’re hunting?” you asked, running your thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.

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Red - Chapter 18 - Cruel Disguise

Art by the amazing starscythe <3

What if Robin Hood hadn’t been able to save his wife when she caught a deadly disease while carrying his child? What if the Evil Queen had summoned him instead of the Huntsman to hunt down Snow White?

Outlaw Queen / AU Enchanted Forest / Angst, Drama, Romance / Rated M

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8| 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 Chapter 18

I’m so sorry for taking so long to update! My life is absolutely crazy right now. 

A very special thank you to @thisisamadhouse and @onhowtobecrazy who read this through for me and told me it was not awful. Thank you darlings! This is not beta-ed, so sorry in advance. 


Regina did not know what had woken her. 

She was used to waking up suddenly, gasping for air, soaked in sweat with her heart beating erratically, and sometimes even screaming out, due to the more than usual nightmares that haunted her. 

But this time, her eyes did not snap open and her senses did not hit her all at once. 

One moment Regina was enwrapped in peaceful slumber, buzzing energy travelled about her body, and her heart, for once, was at ease. She moved a little, and slowly became more and more aware of the fact that what she was laying upon was not her mattress. Her mattress did not breathe, or snore

Regina took a deep breath – taking in the scent of pinewood and sweat that was strangely familiar – and eased herself more into the warm, delicious embrace of whatever was holding her. She hummed in agreement to the arm that held her a little tighter around the waist when she moved. It felt quite good, she felt well rested and safe, which was something she had not felt for a very long time. 

The vibrant energy made her want to sleep the morning away there, even though she was now conscious that she was on top of somebody and that both of them were stark naked.


Fic Submission: You're my favourite hello and my hardest goodbye

Written by: stydiaandthejeep

Prompt: can you write an au where lydia lives across the hall from stiles and hides in his house to avoid one night stands and it eventually leads to them dating and stuff :)

Author’s Note: So, this is soo long, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I could’ve written it any shorter. Also, it’s my first time writing Stiles POV. I hope you like it anon who requested and also everyone else, I worked a bit on it.

Ly all, enjoy.

From stydia-xo: I’m so sorry this took so long to get up but thank you as always for submitting and sharing. I went through and proofread and I hope everyone enjoys this story :) 

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Omg, I'm in my twenties.

This year, I turned 24 – and with it came a startling realization.

Oh my god. I’m 24. What the hell?!

Now I know that sounds stupid. “You’re only 24,” my colleagues tell me - in fact, somebody said this to me today. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you!” my older friends preach (if you reckon you’re one of these older friends, I’m sorry for calling you old and appreciate your endless wisdom. You look extra dashing today).

And yeah, I suppose I still am quite young. I haven’t had to start using Just For Men quite yet. Sure, I’m just getting started with things like my career and other adulty stuff that I’m too scared to even write because they’re so daunting. Because if I write words like rent or mortgage or bills, then that makes them true. It makes them applicable to me.

But at the same time, a tiny (and by tiny I mean huuuuuuuge) part of me is screaming that everything just needs to slow down. Because how am I 24 already? How have I not achieved THIS LIFE GOAL yet, and not accomplished THIS DREAM by now? How am I not the person I wanted to be? How are so many of my Facebook friends doing better than me? Look, they’ve just bought their first house. And how nice, he’s moving to America. And her job probably pays her a shit-ton of money. When you’ve got people like Zara Larsson making millions at 18, and you’ve got young people making entrepreneurs out of themselves through social media, it can be crippling to realize that you’ve done none of these things. As though it’s expected of you. As though that’s the norm.

It all gets a bit much sometimes. You realize that the months are blurring into years and that today you’re 24, but one day you will be 30, then one day you’ll be 40, and then it might just be too late to do all the stuff you always wanted to do. We all give ourselves a sort of itinerary for life, don’t we? We’re in the age of the bucket list. When the future is one enormous, foggy tunnel that you’re racing towards and you can’t stop, it’s all you can do to stop yourself from diving into bed with a multipack of Reese’s peanut buttercups and hiding away from the world with your favourite memes. Because let’s face it, we’ve all got ‘em (quite fond of the latest Kermit craze, tbh).

Stop. Breathe. Just freakin’ calm down and stop overthinking for a second, alright? Have a cup of tea and pet something fluffy. Sometimes I literally just grab my half-pug and bury my face in his abundance of rolls and instantly feel better.

My problem is that I’m quite self-critical. And if there’s one thing that my boyfriends asks me all the time, it’s this: why do I keep comparing myself?

And he’s right. I do constantly measure my own life up against that of other people. Mostly in terms of career success. I sometimes look at other authors, others who have literary agents or who have even been published by my age, and I wonder – how come they’ve managed to do that, but I haven’t?

The thing is, we’re living in an age of instant gratification. Our internet is faster than ever. You can take a picture, upload it to Instagram, and rake in the likes in just a few seconds. Everything is happening now, and as a result our attention spans have taken a real hit. Hell, my attention has wandered several times just writing this blog post. Oh, let me just check Facebook real quick…

So it just makes sense that we’ve accidentally conditioned ourselves to expect the same from life. From our long-term goals and aspirations. They need to happen right now, and then we need to tell everyone about it.

No. No more. Social media can be great. I couldn’t live without it now. But it’s also toxic. We poison ourselves into thinking we need to be something, when all we really need to be is happy. Happy and in the moment. And what makes me happy? Well, Tom makes me happier than anything. So does our dog, Buzz. And travelling. And going out. And reading. And writing. And good food.

And I get to do those things a lot. On a weekly basis. Daily, for some of them. I get to go to work and come home to cwtches (Welsh word for cuddle, which I will use unsparingly… you would do well to integrate it into your own vocabulary) from my amazing boyfriend and our sausagey little pupper. We have travelled to, and will be travelling to, some amazing places and I don’t think we’ll ever tire of it. We’ll always be jetting off to somewhere in search of adventures. We have some amazing friends, and we go out pretty much every weekend. I get to read books I love and write books I love whenever I want.

And don’t get me started on the food. I will hoover up anything and everything you set before me (I have been known to eat dog biscuits, but that was completely an accident and I probably need a whole other blog post just to explain myself).

Those are the things that make me happy right now (okay, so maybe not dog biscuits). Within instant reach. My real life instant gratification. Not the faux kind that comes from a little red bubble on Instagram telling you how many likes you’ve had. Or the artificial validation you get when you boast about something on Facebook. Because that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m surrounded by people and things that I love.

As for the other things? The long-term stuff? They will come. Keep hacking away at things in your own time, and things will start to happen. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Life isn’t a race. JK Rowling was in her thirties before her first book was published – and look where she is now. Maybe instead of reading about people’s successes, read about their failures. Normalise it. Accept it. Know that failure isn’t actually real – it’s only an internal measure of yourself. It’s fictional.

So if you’re like me and you’re in your 20’s, feeling like you should have amounted to something by now, please stop. You’re doing just fine. Go at your own pace. Stop comparing yourself to others, because it’s dangerous. It rots your mind. It makes you lose sight of what’s important. Make a list of the things that give you that real life gratification and focus on them. Because they’re what matter the most.

And next time those slimy thoughts start creeping their way back in, come read this blog post. I’ll be here, probably experiencing exactly the same thing.