A Slytherin/Hufflepuff friendship would include...
• Standing up for each other no matter what
• “Mess with them, mess with me.“
• Sitting on each other’s tables in the Great Hall
• At first you received some strange looks, but now everyone is used to it
• Swapping ties sometimes to confuse people
• Hanging out in the dungeons
• Hanging out in the kitchens
• Knowing all the passwords for your common rooms
• Occasionally telling the wrong password for a joke, and watching as they get locked out of your common room
• "Need some help there?”
• SO MUCH SMIRKING
• Being the closest of friends ever
• Having people be so jealous of you both
• Being literal friend goals
• Teaching each other the fundamentals of being in your respective houses
• "You’re like a cinnamon roll, how in Merlin’s name.“
• "And you.. well you’re… I mean, you’re nice too… sometimes… when you want to be…”
• Bickering now and then
• But only because you love each other
• Missing each other so much when you’re in lessons
• Watching the clock and willing time to go faster
• "I thought I’d never see you again!“
• "You saw me like an hour ago.”
• Being like iconic duos on tv shows
• You’re so different but compliment each other so well
• Having other friends in your own houses
• But preferring each other’s company to anyone else’s
• Getting each other’s opinions before doing literally a n y t h i n g
• Just always being there for one another
• No matter what
• Through the good times and bad
• Because you’re the best of friends
• Singing dramatic duets in your common rooms, to the amusement of others
• Always laughing
• Or smiling
• Whenever one of you is feeling down, the other knows exactly how to make things better
• Whether that be a long talk, food or cuddles
• Being the most important person in each other’s lives
• Meeting at King Cross Station every year
• Sitting with each other on the Hogwarts Express, though people sometimes stare
• Teaching first years the importance of inter-house friendships
• And showing that Slytherins and Hufflepuffs can be friends
• Because despite their differences
• Ultimately they’re better together
In most of the Wi-Fi-enabled world, thumb drives are already a throwback; the latest Apple
laptops don’t even come with a way to plug them in. But in the insular
and rogue state of North Korea, USB drives have become a symbol of
Human rights groups based in
South Korea, the United States and elsewhere load the flash drives with
hours of foreign films like Titanic and TV shows like Friends,
along with South Korean dramas and religious texts. Then they smuggle
them north using drones, helium balloons or a secretive underground
network of smugglers.
The hope is that
thousands, if not millions, of North Koreans will get their hands on
foreign media on a scale so large it could someday undermine the same
regime that’s trying to brainwash them.
But in Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, a land where people often turn to the black market
to make money, watching a foreign film or reading an independent
newspaper could bring terrible consequences.
aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation;
pairing: min yoongi x reader •
genre/warnings: mentions of death,
slight angst, mentions or mature themes, fluff •
words: 10,495 → summary:
Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself
to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising
‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking,
who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living… •
note. inspired by the novella ‘The
Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the main character’s past occupation
get to know me meme:
[1/10] favourite tv shows
→ supernatural (2005 - ) “Once I rose above the noise and confusion. Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high.”
OH OH OH PLEASE TELL US A BOARDING SCHOOL STORY PRETTY PLEASE
so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!
spoiler alert: yes they can? THEY ALWAYS CAN.
200 years of american high school and teenagers still think that there is a cap limit on kids in detention and that you can leave after 15 minutes if the teacher doesn’t show up.
anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”
she didn’t say scab because she’s not from the 1920s and we aren’t newsies, though this story would be way more interesting if we were
what she said was “YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!”
except not yolo because it was 2009 and drake hadn’t been invented yet except as a dear sweet boy in a wheelchair.
we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.
I’M NOT ASHAMED, but in that way where like i kind of AM ashamed so i’m really aggressively NOT ashamed?
so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”
“hell no,” i said. “YOLO. they can’t punish all of us.”
elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.
WHAT KIND OF BAGELS?
off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.”
of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE.
but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.
at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.
all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE,“ and elle said, "did you hear that?”
‘that’ was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU’RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.
our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”
i held my breath.
i should add here that i seemed to be operating on like a scooby-doo level of logic where basically i thought that she was somehow NOT ALLOWED to investigate?
like, if she can’t see me, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that she could prove i’m in here, right?
she’ll just poke her head in and be like oH GOSH NO KIDS HERE and leave!!
you can see the flaw in my logic.
mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”
there’s no WAY she guesses i’m in the closet!!!
“mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet.”
NO YOU DON’T
I AM SCHRÖDINGER’S SENIOR
there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.
i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.
i said, “where’s ginna?”
YOU KNOW WHERE GINNA WAS.
“um,” said elle, “she’s in the—”
i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:
what have i done?
this was a mistake.
i regret a series of decisions that i have made.
is there a way out of this?
are those oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
why are there oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
mollyhall, you HAVE a food cupboard, what good is a food cupboard if you don’t—
she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.
ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”
We’re in the generation where we feel like we need to be doing something at all times. We’re obsessed with productivity, and it makes everyone incredibly anxious. I always feel like I’m not doing enough and I’m always hard on myself. Yesterday, I was in the car with Cole Sprouse, and I was saying how I get home and I don’t do anything. I just go to sleep and I feel so useless, and he was like, ‘You’re the lead in a TV show, you’re working 15-hour days, your show is about to air, you need to chill. You’re 22 years old, you just got out of college, you’re right where you need to be.
Varric is “gives you a sip of his beer when you’re 14, includes too many embarrassing anecdotes in the ‘Birds and the Bees’ talk, helps you get into R-Rated movies” Dad.
Solas is, “Unwanted impromptu hikes and camping trips, lets you paint your own room but won’t help paint over it when you decide you hate it two weeks later, ’Let’s talk this out in the yurt’” Dad.
Dorian is “up at 3 AM passive aggressively reading in the living room with a glass of wine when you arrive four hours past your curfew, watches cheesy terrible tv shows with you, gets WAY INTO your science fair project” Dad.
Blackwall is “really bad at gift giving but you know he’s trying very hard, carved your baby cradle by hand himself, tried to teach you to fish but stopped when ‘cleaning’ the fish made you cry and throw up” Dad.
Iron Bull is “Yells REALLY LOUDLY at the TV during both football and cooking shows, scares the shit out of your date while being perfectly friendly, won’t let you out the door in the morning without breakfast ‘At least take this protein bar!’” Dad.