visitor question

About that ‘visitor’ in ch126

- definitely someone Soma & Agni knows (when he opened the door and faced the visitor, he said “Oh, it’s you!”)

- probably male (uses men’s speech)

- shorter than Soma

- says “Don’t touch (me) casually” (「気安く触るな」) which sounds like a very Ciel-ish thing to say

- there’s no personal pronoun in the sentence above so we don’t know whether that person is a ‘ore’, ‘watashi’ or ‘boku’-user (this would have been quite useful to identify the visitor, but Yana omitted it, of course ┐(´ー`)┌ )


I first thought the shooter could be real!Ciel (and Soma mistook him for our!Ciel), and while that’s still a very likely possibility, there’s something I find off about it, namely Soma’s reaction. He said “Oh, it’s you!” (「おお、お前か!」) when he met the ‘visitor’ in question. It sounds a bit… reserved especially when you consider that Soma has just expressed in the previous scene how much he likes and cares for Ciel. I’d rather expect him to react like

CIEL, my friend, we were just talking about you!!!! ヽ(*´∀`*)ノ.+゚ ”

rather than “Oh, it’s you! :D”

I’ve read a lot of comments of Japanese fans about this chapter and it seems the majority thinks it’s real!Ciel (and I, too, think that’s still the likeliest possibility), but there were also a few people who had slight doubts like me :/ Guess we have to wait for the next chapter (though I don’t believe Yana will reveal the identity of the visitor so soon. You know, Yana loves to keep us on tenterhooks… xD)


Oh by the way, I’m pretty sure we can exclude Lizzy from the circle of suspects because her way of speaking (very feminine) doesn’t match with that of the visitor’s (very masculine).

anonymous asked:

Do you know anything about the MAR-A-LAGO Act?

The annoying acronym makes it look like a silly grandstanding ploy instead of the serious attempt at holding the President of the United States accountable that it should be, but there should be publicly-available visitor logs for Trump’s resort since he is running the government from there when he is there (and he is there so frequently). By the way, the Trump Administration isn’t even making WHITE HOUSE visitor logs easily accessible.

I can only imagine how egregiously this Administration has already violated the Presidential Records Act.

anonymous asked:

The superfriends at the hospital after Maggie or Alex is brought in emergency due to sex injury.

They had fallen in sync as quickly as they had fallen in love.

Alex always woke up and showered first, whilst her girlfriend would sleep in a little longer and shower as Alex whipped up some gross-ass breakfast that would be waiting for her post-shower. Almost always, that was their little routine.

Except this morning as Maggie poked her head around the shower curtain, a sparkle in her eye and an oh-so-tempting smirk on her face. ‘Room for a little one?’

‘Always,’ Alex grinned as if they did this every day, as if she had done this before, as if she wasn’t completely freaking out and turned on right now, as her naked girlfriend hopped into the tub.

‘God, why is the water so freaking cold?’

‘To wake me up. You can make it hotter if you want.’

‘Oh,’ Maggie murmured, dragging her lips down Alex’s back as her hands skimmed her waist. ‘Don’t you worry, I’m so gonna do both.’


In the space of a millisecond, Alex’s heart had gone from racing to nearly flatlining.

Maggie had slipped, her loss of footing a result of Alex’s amateur and overexcited hands, hands that were too slow to catch her before she fell and hit her head, hard, on the edge of the tub.

The fall freaked her out. The momentary loss of consciousness terrified her and she was quick to bundle Maggie up in warm clothes before getting her in the car and whisking her off to the emergency room.

As Alex had guessed, it was a concussion and definitively knowing so was worth all the knowing looks from hospital staff when Alex who, like Maggie, was still sopping wet, explained that her girlfriend had slipped and fell in the shower.

Thankfully, Maggie was very much lucid and able to go home as soon as the doctor who treated her handed back her papers. ‘This was not how I expected to spend my morning,’ she mused, swinging her legs as she sat on the edge of the exam table. ‘That was your first time, wasn’t it?’

‘Was it that obvious?’

‘You were so excited, you knocked me over.’

‘Please don’t say it like that,’ Alex said, grimacing.

Maggie laughed. ‘It’s fine. Next time, I’ll have to show you how to be more careful on slippery surfaces.’

‘You’re actually giving me a next time?’

‘Yeah. It was fun up until the whole life flashing before my eyes part.’

Alex smiled, relieved that she at least did something right.

‘Excuse me, Miss Sawyer?’

Eager to leave, Maggie reached for her coat as a nurse approached. ‘I can go now, right?’

The nurse shook her head. ‘Not yet. But there’s some visitors in the waiting room for you.’

‘Visitors?’

The same question ran through Alex’s mind too before it clicked. ‘Oh, one of them I’m guessing will be Kara. When I told her I wasn’t coming into work today, I mentioned it was because I was taking you to the hospital. You know her, she’s probably worried.’

‘Or you made it sound worse than it actually was?’

Alex couldn’t help but nod. ‘Yeah, I guess. I was worried though.’ And for the seconds, Maggie was out cold, terrified that she had killed the love of her life having shower sex. ‘Why don’t I go and reassure her whilst you wait here to be discharged?’

‘That works,’ Maggie agreed.

It was, as expected, Kara and, not so expectedly though not overly surprising, Winn that were hanging about the waiting room, the former of which ran towards Alex and engulfed her in a tight hug. ‘Is everything okay? Is Maggie okay?’

Alex pried herself from her sister’s grasp. ‘Everything is absolutely fine; it was just a minor accident and I didn’t mean to worry you guys so much. She’s literally about to leave.’

‘What happened?’ Winn asked, his eyes narrowed at the sight of Alex with her still-wet hair, oversized hoodie and sweatpants.

‘Maggie fell in the shower and hit her head. That’s all, she’s okay, just concussed.’

His look grew more curious and much more knowing. ‘And you’re wet too?’

‘Yes,’ Alex said, slowly, wondering if he was on to her.

Innocently, Kara piped up. ‘Well, she’d have had to turn the shower off and save water.’

Winn chuckled. ‘Oh, I think they were saving water another way.’

Alex snapped. ‘At least I have a sex life.’

‘Sex life–?’ Then it clicked for Kara and her brow furrowed and she fidgeted with her glasses. ‘Oh. You had sex in the–. Oh Rao.’

‘Happy? You’ve corrupted my sister, you idiot.’

‘Corrupted her? She’s an adult.’

‘Who’ll now never want to use my shower.’

‘By that logic I’d imagine she’d want to stay away from your bed, your couch, probably your kitchen counter too?’

Alex’s silence spoke volumes.

‘Damn Danvers. Is anywhere sacred these days with you on the prowl?’

‘Yes Schott,’ came a voice behind him. ‘Your bedroom.’

With a laugh, Alex pushed Winn out of the way to get to her girl. ‘Are you good to go?’

‘As good as I’ll ever be with a concussion, yeah,’ Maggie said, accepting the arm that Alex offered and nestling into her side. ‘Oh and Winn, if we ever find a good reason to invite you to either of ours, I’ll give you a fifty if you manage to find a place that is sacred.’


Send me Sanvers/Supercorp Prompts

.82

For: @babydollvalens21
Characters: Amaro/Reader
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1, 453
Note: Request was for a female reader.


“Why are you acting so weird?”

“Excuse me?” You stammered, shoving your hands in your pocket as you shivered against the cool spring breeze.

Nick shrugged, stopping under a streetlight and eyeing you curiously, “You’ve been quiet all night and tripping over your words. It’s not like you. Normally things are so,” he paused, pursing his lips. “Easy when we hang out.”

Keep reading

Remember I said I’d write this? I wrote this! It’s also available on AO3.


Amy

When Amy Pond was nine years old, her art teacher presented a replica of Vase With 12 Sunflowers to the class, and asked every child to describe how it made them feel.

“Happy,” said most of the pupils, associating sunflowers with summer and sunshine and childhood.

“Sad,” said Mels.

Amy thought about it harder than anyone. “Proud,” she finally said.

“Why?” asked the teacher.

“I don’t know,” said Amy.

“Well,” the teacher said, smiling indulgently, “that’s not much good to anyone, then, is it?”

“Her name is on it,” Rory spoke up.

“Well spotted, Rory,” said the teacher. “But the Amy whose name is on here is a different Amy, who died a long time ago. She must have been a friend of Vincent’s.”

*

Keep reading

vader’s castle looks like a weird combination of a medieval prison, a steampunk rapunzel tower, and a dungeon. i’m sure the effect was intentional.

Republic of İzmir

The long awaited dream became real. The Aegean coast line is separated from Turkey and declared independence. A country was born with its capital as Izmir. After the celebrations that took place for three months, organized by Izmir National Assembly, II. MKA was elected as president of the republic. In order to get into the country, being at least 50% Turkish was essential due to the law. The tourists and visitors were being questioned as ‘‘Do Turks have friends other than but Turks?’’ Any citizens who called the new government as fascist were deported. The world fascist was banned until a second order.


İzmir Cumhuriyeti 

Yıllardır kurulan hayal sonunda gerçek oldu. Ege sahil şeridi Türkiye’den ayrıldı ve özerkliğini ilan etti. Başkenti İzmir olan yeni bir devlet kuruldu. İzmir Millet Meclisi tarafından üç ay boyunca düzenlenen törenlerin ardından II. MKA cumhurbaşkanı oldu. Ülkeye girmek için en az %50 olmak koşuluyla Türk olma zorunluluğu getirildi. Turistik amaçla gelen ziyaretçilere de “Türk’ün Türk’ten başka dostu var mı?” gibi sorular yöneltilmeye başlandı. Yeni devlet sistemini faşist olarak nitelendiren tüm vatandaşlar sınırdışı edildi. Faşist kelimesinin kullanımı da ikinci bir emre kadar yasaklandı.

I think I’ve maybe mentioned once or twice that one of my least favorite parts of going to reenactments is the amount of mansplaining that goes on, because as a woman I clearly haven’t (and couldn’t!) read as widely and extensively as all these gentleman have, and there’s no way I could possibly understand any of what they’re talking about.  (This is part of a larger problem in general with reenactors - on the whole, they’re really bad historical interpreters. They don’t have a good set of canned responses to the ‘dumb questions’ that everyone asks, and they additionally don’t have the good sense to resign themselves to the fact that visitors will ask ‘dumb questions’. They also don’t seem to realize that the ‘dumb questions’ are usually a great way to start a conversation.)

Last year I tried to start a conversation about the Easter Rising with one of the young men after they’d finished a scenario and he proceeded to give me a five minute lecture on causes and effects of same, never bothering to ask why I was asking the question or what interested me about the subject or even what brought me out to the event that day. Conversational things. (Three months abroad visiting all the sites he was talking about and writing papers about them, but who’s counting, really.)

Well, joke’s on him - I found his Tumblr.

It’s so lame, guys.

Fanfiction - My Brother’s Lass (Part Five)

Aaaaand we’re back! Thank you so much for all the lovely words regarding this story. Unfortunately due to RL demands, my updates will be much slower in the comings weeks – probably once a week or maybe even a little bit longer. I hope it’s worth the wait! As always, see you on the other side lovies! <3

Fanfiction list

My Brother’s Lass (Part Five) – Love Unspoken

“You didn’t need to try to amputate your foot just to convince me to forgive you, you know.” Claire said, while examining the needle she had just used to apply some much needed stitches on my skin. “I would have been perfectly pleased with a simpler “I’m sorry, Claire.”

“I’ve always been the big gestures type.” I groaned, as she stretched the tender skin to make sure the wound had stopped oozing blood. “After all, I have plenty of toes available and only the one healer around.”

She snorted with mirth, as she unfolded the linen bandages she was to use to ligate my massacred foot. I was becoming very used to this routine, after my last injury.

“You’re lucky you were wearing your boots - you’d have lost at least a couple of toes without them.”

“How come I dinna feel that lucky just now?” I watched as her skilled hands worked. She had been gentle, careful to hurt me only when strictly necessary, and had talked to me with tenderness throughout the whole gruesome experience, trying to make me forget the pain. She could have seized the opportunity to make me pay for my wrong ways, torturing me relentlessly. She didn’t - and I was grateful, for my heart was sore enough as it was. “I am sorry, Claire.” I added in a hoarse voice; I had done plenty of screaming and cursing in the last hour.

Her eyes searched mine; she looked concerned and tired. She must have found some sincerity reflecting there, for she presented me with a smile.

“Forgiven.” She said softly. Her hand brushed my damp hair away from my forehead, a natural and tender touch that left me reeling. “But maybe in the future you can talk to me instead of going behind my back? Maybe we can promise honesty to each other?”

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, silently nodding in agreement. I would be honest with her alright – except about the most important thing my life. I love ye. I can never live without ye. Ye are forbidden to me.

“Good.” She patted my shin cheerfully. “May I send your brother in?”

“If ye must.” I groaned. Willie had been hovering around like a moor’s spirit, after he had carried me inside the house and into my bedroom, where Claire had swiftly came to attend to me. Eventually worn out from his relentless questions and worried that he might faint, leaving her with two miserable patients – as my brother was fearless as a Viking, but dinna really enjoyed the sight of spurting blood as one – she shooed him outside, with faint reassurances that she would take good care of me all by herself. I supported this notion with all my heart.

That I felt more than a shred of happiness and excitement at the thought of us together, alone and in close proximity, completely ignoring the fact that her soft touch came at the expense of almost chopping off my own foot, seemed only to epitomize the state of mind in which I found myself.

Claire gave me an exasperated look, clearly thinking that a dozen of stitches weren’t really an excuse to behave live a spoilt and whimpering bairn.

“Not really in the mood for visitors?” She questioned, organizing her wee instruments like a general displaying his troops on the eve of battle. “He might bring you some whiskey to dull some of that pain. You look like you could use it.” She enticed.

“Aye.” I sighed. “Let the man in. I might as well thank him for helping me; dying in such circumstances - he saved me from being the laughingstock at my own wake, I reckon.”

****

The next couple of weeks were a strenuous affair – my foot ached like a fiend; throbbing in conformity with that tender place inside me, which seemed to travel between somewhere in my head and somewhere inside my chest. Sometimes I thought I’d drop dead at a moment’s notice - but maybe there is no apoplexy of the soul; and so I was condemned to learn how to live with pain as a constant companion.

I walked for short distances and lengths of time at first; that forced me to be around Claire even more than before, as I wasna able to escape using my usual pretexts.

After I managed to place the visions of her body roused by mine - the secrets of her womanhood revealed to me as gospel - inside a vault somewhere in my head, I was able to talk to her without feeling so utterly overwhelmed. They would still come about, of course, like tears of light during a thunderstorm – sometimes when she laughed and her breath caught in her throat or when she moved in effort and a drop of sweat slid between her breasts – but I was able to enjoy her company and find in her a kindred spirit. She wasna only beautiful, capable and witty; but fearless, brave, quick with her mind and very warm. Claire was a woman - and everything about that spoke to the man I was steadily becoming. I wished to rise above myself for her; to be taken seriously and maybe, at times, to be to her what she was to me.

I helped her with small tasks that made me feel less of an invalid, like carving her a new set of wooden bowls for her herbs and concoctions; and we had long conversations in the shadows of the kitchen or catching the breeze in the courtyard. I even told her about Paris and my foolish duel; I knew deep inside I was trying to make myself look more desirable in her eyes – but did it nonetheless. We truly became friends; I still wished for so much more.

I had her just for me in those glorious days. I could almost pretend we were a married couple, pleasantly sitting together working; our bodies content to share another type of intimacy during the day, different from the one shared in our bedroom at night. Those were the ravings of a man lost from this world; and yet I couldn’t let go.

And so I stood there, in the festivities at Broch Mordha, knowing that my happy interlude was about to end. I could see my brother growing increasingly more anxious the last couple of days, readying himself to propose to Claire. Soon.

People were singing and dancing around the bonfire, a flute filling the air with harmonious notes. I was inclined to remain in a corner, drinking whiskey and hard feelings.

“I’m thinking of going away.” Ian told me unexpectedly, while he was standing there next to me, removed from the dancing circle. “I’ve met a man in Cranesmuir and he told me about a position soldering in France.” He looked at me, the fire reflected in his brown eyes. “I have a mind to take it.”

“Ye do?” I asked him surprised. “I thought ye intended to stay here, farming the land. Helping us in the keeping of Lallybroch. I’d never think ye a fighting man at heart.”

“I’m hardly that.” He smiled tersely. “But I ought to find my place, Jamie. I love ye as a brother and ye ken that well.” Ian stroked my shoulder. He tilted his head, gazing beyond the lively gathering and his face went serious. “But things are calling me away.”

“Are they?” I raised an eyebrow. “So ye’re not running away from my sister?”

“Jenny has nothing to do with it!” Ian hissed, looking around us like I had just revealed him a warlock within Inquisition’s earshot. “Not all of us are as lost as ye are.” He added ruefully. His gaze landed on Claire, smiling and drinking next to Willie on the other side of the fire.

“Aye.” I grunted, following his look. “But that should tell ye that I understand, a brathair.”

I knew his eyes would always seek Jenny, as mine perpetually followed Claire. My sister was bonny that night, her black hair sleek and embellished with a flower from our garden. Claire was splendorous on a gown that revealed just enough of the creamy skin above her breasts, the fire catching the copper and gold of her hair. We were both foolish men, ruled by our hearts.

“I ken all about it.” I added. “That deafening sound, that doesna let ye hear anything else. The loudest sound of all, even than the bodhrán.” I looked at him and gave him a sad smile, as I raised my flask in silent recognition. “Love unspoken”.

****

Once Claire had started dancing with Willie, I turned my back and went to find appropriate ground to lick my wounds, as a battered and old wolf.

I sat on a fallen log in the periphery of the celebration, drinking small sips of whiskey that did very little to quell the fiery monster inside me. I was angry and unrightfully jealous.

A lass that used to live in the village and my sister’s friend, Blair, came and sat next to me. We always got along nicely, as she was a sweet lass and a kind heart. But she was strong and had very little of those conundrums that usually surround women after a certain age – she reminded me of Claire in those traits. When she went to live further away with an aunt, after her father’s passing, we lamented it deeply.

“Are ye alright?” She asked softly. “Ye dinna look like yerself.” And seeing my confused look, she continued. “Ye’re always cheerful and in good spirits. Is something amiss?”

“Aye.” I nodded slightly. “Everything is very much amiss.”

“Och.” She shook her head and a look of concern dawned in her eyes. “Can I be of any service? Help ye in any way?”

I smiled and touched her hand in friendship. “Ye already are. I thank ye.”

I raised my eyes to see Claire standing on the edge of the circle, directly looking at our figures curled together on the log. She had a small frown about her that I had come to recognize as a sign of distress.

“And ye Blair?” I forced myself to look to my current companion, feeling uncertain, my heart thumping inside my chest. “Are ye well, lass?”

“I am.” She grinned like a small devil. “I’m to be married to Thomas Campbell. The poor lad doesna ken what’s coming for him.”

I laughed and touched her cheek, for a moment happy to share some of her joy. My eyes darted to Claire, now slightly tapping her fingers on her thigh as she continued to watch us, without being able to hear what we were talking about.

“Will I be invited then?” I asked, attempting one of my terrible winks.

“Of course.” Blair laughed. “Maybe ye can bring the lass that is looking at us like she wants to hang me in the nearest tree. Are ye two promised?”

I gave her a little smile and brushed away a golden lock, stranding in the wind, placing it behind her ear. I could swear Claire had bitten her bottom lip and turned her gaze blatantly away, after seeing my affectionate gesture.

“She’s not mine to take, Blair.”

“Oh, but she will be.” She winked back, with a much better effect. “Or perhaps she already is – she just has to ken it for herself, aye?”

****

I relinquished any attempt at sleeping once I gave my bed one good look. I knew the events of the night would parade behind my closed eyelids once I relaxed enough to try and reach for the touch of Hypnos. I had no wish to toss around, trying to make sense of things that held no meaning. Even when I found sleep, Claire never left me – and once my barriers were down, I’d see her in all her splendour and would became transfixed by the depth of my loss.

I tried to read, but even Defoe offered me no solace in the adventures of Robinson Crusoé. So eventually I opened my door and went outside my room, uncertain of my destiny but refusing to stand still and let my emotions catch me in their claws.

I ended near the window seat at the end of the hall – a full moon shone in the dark sky, lending a silvery glow to the fields outside and my own gripped fists. I remembered that night under the Northern Lights, the night I had realized the true nature of my feelings for Claire.

Was it possible that I wasn’t indifferent to her? I barely dared to hope as much; but her face had betrayed her once she saw me with the lass - there was the look of a jealous woman, if I ever saw one.

I knew she was there even before I heard her. I was more attuned with her than I ever had been with anyone else; I might even predict her next heartbeat with my own heart’s rhythm. My body answered to her in an uncanny way. I was hers.

“I heard you leaving your room.” She said. I finally looked at her, noticing she was only in her shift, her modesty preserved by a light shawl. I could see her figure outlined by the silvery light and wondered how she would look, bared, lying on the floor bathed only in moonlight. “You seem to be having trouble sleeping lately.” Claire added, coming closer to me. Her hair was loose, curling around her face like a riotous cloud.  “I hear you almost every night, moving and sometimes speaking.”

“Aye.” I looked outside, forcing myself to avoid her blinding sight. Please God, make her go away from me.

“What’s wrong?” She asked softly. My eyes bore into hers and I saw her disquiet there.

I hesitated, searching for some excuse to give. But I was tired, more than I ever had been in my life; and felt very tender. She once asked me for the truth – maybe it was time to let someone share the burden of honesty.

“I think ye know”. I answered in a husky voice and let down the mask I had fought so hard to maintain. I knew my hunger was written there; my desperation; my love.

“Jamie…” She gasped and I knew she too fought to find words then. I had none to give her - so I gave her everything else.

My hands were on her thin waist, as I pulled her closer to me – gently, so I knew she would come of her own free will. She exhaled deeply, our breaths coming together in our closeness. Her hands came up and landed on my shoulders; for a moment I was certain she would push me away.

“Claire.” I almost growled her name, squeezing her tightly against me. “If you don’t want me to kiss ye, ye have to say it.” She licked her lips and held my gaze, but said nothing. “Say it. Say it, damn you!”

I couldn’t tell who moved first – maybe I plunged for her mouth or she meant to silence me – but our lips met. It was a chaste kiss at first, as if we were testing our own resolution.

But I had one kiss to savour her, to show her all she was to me. I had one kiss to possess her – one kiss to pretend she was mine. I deepened our connection, my mouth hungrily exploring hers, as our tongues met in an igniting dance. My hands gripped her waist – I daren’t move them, for I knew I couldn’t stop myself from exploring her whole body if I did – and I meant to show her I would only take what she wanted to give me.

In her kiss I found my grace long forgotten. For a moment I didn’t think of Willie and the aftermath of our reckless moment. As she lightly bit my bottom lip, I thought only I’d die happily in that moment, her in my arms and our lips sealed together. I knew I should be gentler, but I ravished her mouth, until I almost tasted blood.

Eventually we came apart, only to see William glaring at us from across the hall, his blue eyes dark with a cold that left us shivering after each other’s warmth, wrath sitting on his shoulder.

“Ye must be feeling much better these days, brother.”

STARTER CALL
            ↪ @etfuturus 

                              He sends a pointed look in the boy’s ( the very same visitor whose questions he continues to ignore ) direction, pursing his lips. “——Now look what you’ve done,” he says curtly. “You are trampling on my herb garden!

@dnadeoxys liked this post for a starter! NAIZU!

She was just…

Staring off into the distance, the four of her limbs resting atop a hill that overlooked the entirety of the mythical forest she had claimed as her home, figure laid down on the rocky formation that had long since fused with the vegetation. Actually, it had begun to grow the moment her sharp hooves had stepped onto it, life immediately growing and flourishing across the ground…

But…

Not as lively as it normally was…

And in a matter of mere seconds, she can feel the familiar aura floating close to her own, and without looking at her visitor, she will question:

“You sure seem to be keen on pestering me, do you not?”

Occupied - Jimin Ver.

jennifer-jimin asked:
Can I ask for a scenario for when The maknae line and yoongi for when they are really confident of asking their gf out for a date but in the and got rejected because she is not free because of work?

A/N: Taehyung and Jungkook ver. will be written soon ^^ Hope you like it!

Genre: Fluff/ a lil Angst

Word count: 1,309

| Suga Ver. | V Ver. | Jungkook Ver. |


“Y/N!” A high pitch voice called out, “Y/N? Where are you?”

Pissed from being woken, you mumbled some curses before turning your head to see Jimin brightly smiling at you. Instead of jumping to hug him like you usually do, you turned back to the desk and proceed to sleep again, resulting in a frown on his face.

“Y/N, you haven’t seen me for 4 weeks and the only thing you do is sleep?” Jimin questioned, slightly hurt from your actions. Being fully awake now, you sighed and turned back to see his pouting face.

“I’m sorry Jiminie, I’m just really tired from work. But I thought you were coming back tomorrow?” You apologized, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“We were, but we finished early and I thought it would be a great surprise… but clearly not. And why are you sleeping on the desk anyways? Go sleep on the bed!” Jimin demanded, not waiting for your response before picking you up, and placing your small figure under the blankets of your bed.

In your slightly confused and tired state, you just went with Jimin’s suggestion. You mumbled a thank you before drifting off to sleep, as he replied with a soft, “You’re welcome.”

Not long after you were mindlessly woken up by Jimin when he climbed into bed after his shower. His weight shifted the mattress, as he slowly made his way towards you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling closer in a spooning position. You slowly turned to face him, with tired eyes.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Jimin whispered, with a small smile.

“I don’t mind. I want to cuddle.” You mumbled against his shirt as you pulled him closer, “Plus, you smell good after your shower.” He chuckled, brushing back your messy hair.

“Hey, you still awake?” He whispered, you gave him a small nod to answer his question, “Do you want to go on a date tomorrow? I mean, we haven’t been able to since I had my tour.”

You nodded again causing a smile on his face, “Really? Then it’s a date!” He paused, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Now go to sleep. It’s late.”

By that time you’ve already fallen asleep oblivious to the promise you just made to Jimin. To Jimin’s surprise he woke up on an empty bed, you were nowhere in sight. He tired calling your name a few times before realizing you weren’t home. He left the room and headed towards the kitchen to find a note.

“Hey, sleepyhead! There’s some leftovers in the fridge. DO NOT I REPEAT DO NOT TRYING COOKING YOURSELF!! Last time you almost burned the whole apartment down. Please, just don’t. Anyways, love ya ~ At work”

Jimin sighed realizing you had forgotten about your promise the night before. He had the day to rest after coming back from tour, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he should head back to the dorms, since you wouldn’t coming home anytime soon. And that’s exactly what he ended up doing. He headed back towards the dorm to find Namjoon reading something, Yoongi sleeping, Jin cooking, and the rest probably went out.

“Hey.” Jimin greeted them quietly as he entered the dorm. Namjoon looked up from his book confused, “Aren’t you suppose to be spending the day with Y/N?”

“I was suppose to, but she had work and completely forgot about our date so, here I am.” He answered with a sigh as he lazily laid down on the couch.

“This is not going to end well. I mean you and Y/N haven’t seen each other for a long time right?” Namjoon asked, Jimin just nodded, too lazy to talk.

“On your one free day she has work. When she has a free day, you have work. Man this relationship is going downhill.” Namjoon continued, “What are you going to do?”

“What can he do?” Yoongi cut in, walking out of his room looking like he just woke up, “I mean, I experienced the same thing with my girlfriend but I was able to work it out with her. If you really want this to work out then you have to find something that works for both of you. Something that keeps you two together.”

“What did you do Yoongi hyung?” Jimin asked curious, sitting up on the couch to face his wise hyung.

“Well, I sent her one of the songs I was working on. I mean I made it about her anyways so why not have her listen to it?” Yoongi chuckled remembering that night, “It helped her with the stress that overworking had on her, and you should do the same. Just in your own way. A way that shows your love for her.”

Jimin thought about what could do and quickly came up with the perfect plan, “Thanks hyung! I got the perfect idea.”

“Anyone hungry for some food?” Jin announced as he entered the living room with a pot of delicious food. Namjoon and Yoongi quickly sat in front of the pot practically drooling over the smell.

“Jin hyung, I need a favour… can I take that to go?” Jimin smiled, eyes bright with his idea.

It was lunch time, you should be eating lunch but you’re not. Why? Because after the meeting, your boss gave you something to do, and it had to be finished before the lunch hour ended. You looked around the empty meeting room and wondered why on earth you had taken this secretary job.

“Miss Y/L/N?” A voice called, interrupting your thoughts. You turned around to see the receptionist from the main floor, “You have a visitor.”

Before you could question her, a black haired boy appeared behind her with a smile. He bowed with a thank you before she left you two alone.

“Jimin! What are you doing here?” You asked not able to hide your happiness.

“What do you think I’m doing here? It’s lunch time and I-”

“I’m sorry Jimin, I have to finish my work and by the time I do finish we wouldn’t have time to go out.” You explained, with a frown.

“Who said we were going out to eat when we have Jin hyung’s fresh homemade food here!” Jimin announced, holding up two bags, “That way we don’t have to waste time going out. Now you go and finish your work quickly, I’ll go prepare the food. Don’t worry, it’s still warm.”

You nodded as you continued your work. You were able to finish your work much quicker than you thought. You sighed with relief closing the laptop to reveal the cute set Jimin had prepare in front of you. He covered half the table with a pink and blue potca dot cloth, food already evenly split on the two plates in front of each other, and to top everything off, there was a cute flower plant in the middle.

“Jimin… You shouldn’t have.” You whispered softly.

“Why not? You’re my girlfriend and we did make a promise. I wanted to keep the promise. This could be like a mini date!” He cheered, puling you up from your seat to plant a kiss on your forehead before leading you to the other side of the long meeting table. You watch him as he sat in front of you.

“Let’s eat.” He grinned, before digging in.

“Jin is seriously such a great cook.”

“Just so you know… I helped him.” He mumbled.

“Really?” You rose an eyebrow, “Then you should try cooking yourself.”

“Yeah, if I don’t set the kitchen on fire.” He scoffed.

“Please?” You pouted causing him to whine.

“Fine! But you have to help me too.”

“Deal! It’s a date then.” You grin, taking his hand in yours.

“Can’t wait.” He smiled back, squeezing your hand in his, tight.


~Admin Ari (Edited by Luna)

“Of course, one might with some justice claim that the Sphinx was the first philosopher and Oedipus the second. This would also have the merit of making philosophy begin with a woman and continuing with an incestuous parricide. The Sphinx asks her visitors a question, which is also a riddle, and perhaps even a joke: what goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening? If they get the answer wrong, she kills them. Furthermore, when Oedipus guesses the right answer to the riddle—man crawls on all fours as a baby, walks on two legs as an adult and with a cane in old age—the Sphinx commits philosophical suicide by throwing herself to the ground from her high rock.”

- Simon Critchley, The Book of Dead Philosophers

UPDATE: THE PRE-SALE IS ON! 

BIG NEWS, PROFEMINIST READERS!!! 

I am MEGA-PROUD to announce the release of my first E-Book: THE PROFEMINIST GUIDE TO FREQUENTLY ASKED FEMINIST QUESTIONS 

Visitors to this Tumblr know I spend a lot of time answering reader questions - I’m here to help!! To that end I have created a handy resource that you can use for those times when you want a feminist answer for yourself, or to answer curious or challenging friends and family. 

I have created a handbook for 20 of the most commonly asked feminist questions, including:

- What IS feminism? 

- Do feminists hate men? What’s up with misandry?

- Why feminism, not humanism or equalism?

- What’s the difference between sex and gender? What are the “new” genders?

- What is intersectional feminism? What about racism within the feminist movement?

- I’m a guy, can I be feminist?

- What’s rape culture? How can I stop it?

The 20 question / 60 page e-book comes out next Friday May 15, but in honor of Mother’s Day I am kicking off a one-week pre-sale - only $5 instead of $10! (The book download links will be emailed out on the 15th.)

I will share the link to get the eBook tonight at 2am PT so you can get it any time Sunday. UPDATE: THE PRE-SALE IS ON! 

Need a last minute gift or a bonus gift for your feminist mom, or your mom who needs feminism? This Feminist FAQ is the gift that keeps on giving.

Thanks to everyone who supports this blog! 

(BTW the cover above isn’t the final cover. I’m getting a new logo, that image is from The International Day of the Girl.)  

Title: The Gold Motel: Belle’s Session

Summary: Rumbelle AU inspired by the movie Psycho - Norman and Robert discuss Robert’s involvement in the food fight and their relationship with Belle. Belle attends her first therapy session with Dr. Hopper.

Rating: NC-17 (No smut, but rating this for the entire nature of this fic.)

Note: Some of you might know that I couldn’t help but write this chapter after the premier of Bates Motel on Monday. It wasn’t even next on my writing list, but here is it. I loved the way is came out and I hope you do too. I think this is the shortest chapter in the series, but I think it’s also an important chapter. Please feel free to let me know what you think. Happy reading.

Links to the full verse: [ao3 link]

The Gold Motel: Psycho 
The Gold Motel: Relapse
The Gold Motel: Controlled 
The Gold Motel: Fatherhood
The Gold Motel: Soul Mates
The Gold Motel: Closet Skeletons
The Gold Motel: Awake 
The Gold Motel: Broken 
The Gold Motel: Unholy 
The Gold Motel: Lost Boy 
The Gold Motel: Back Home
The Gold Motel: The Truth
The Gold Motel: No Sanity 
The Gold Motel: Asylum
The Gold Motel: Steps Closer 
The Gold Motel: Witten Letters 

Saturday afternoon, Belle is in her bedroom changing Baelee out of her sky blue crocodile pajamas and into the yellow flower dress that Norman adores. She prepares their daughter for another visit to see her father at the hospital.

Baelee, with out warning, kicks the shoes off of her feet and they tumble to the floor.

“You little critter,” Belle coos, tickling her daughter’s tummy. “I see you’re trying to really make me work today.” She picks up the shoes and puts them back on the child’s tiny feet.

Baelee squirms as her mother wrestles with the shoes. She rather not wear the heavy stompers. She can move around quicker without them.

After securing the shoe straps, Belle stands the baby up on the bed to check how she looks in the outfit. “Daddy’s gonna think you’re the prettiest thing.” She kisses the baby girl’s cherub like cheeks. “Even Robert won’t help but notice how adorable you are.” Straightens the gold bow on the Baelee’s head. Then takes a instant to think about their possible future.

With Norman’s decision of coexistence, Robert Gold will be a permanent part of Belle and Baelee’s lives.

“I guess you’ll be calling him pop-pop,” she shrugs, nonchalant. “I don’t know where he came up with that, but it’s cute. Don’t you think?”

The baby girl bounces on the bed as her mother helps to keep her balanced. She loves when Belle talks to her.

“I don’t know where he came up with nugget either,” she tells her daughter. “Nugget… Ha!”

Belle’s ticked every time she hears him call the baby nugget. It’s the most random nickname she’s ever heard.  

“I guess I’ll be his sweetheart and Norman’s dearie. But they both call me my love.” Which, at first, she saw as kinda odd. “I think that makes sense though. Since, you know, they are the same person.”

Baelee reaches for her mother’s hair with both hands.

“No, no, Bae.” She leans back, getting her curls out of the child’s reach. “You can pull daddy’s and pop-pop’s hair. Not mommy’s.”

Baelee reached for her chestnut locks again.

“Oh, goodness, Bae.” She rests the child down on the bed and opens the nightstand drawer, rambling for something to tie her hair back. “You have such a fascination. I guess you get that from your daddy.” She finds a rose hair clip and securely pulls her long threads out of the baby’s reach. “That man will let you do anything to him.” Picks up the baby and stands from the bed. “Come on. Let’s go get your bag ready.”

As they exit the bedroom, the phone starts to ring.

Keep reading