which is still older than me

i was at target earlier and i decided to wear short sleeves without a jacket because i was hot which is a big deal for me because i’m so self conscious about my self harm scars and this little girl who couldn’t have been older than 4 was running down the aisle i was in and accidentally ran into me and she fell so i helped her up and she saw my scars and she said “what happened ?” and i didn’t really know what to say so i was just frozen and her mom comes up to me and apologized for her daughter and I said it was totally fine and then the little girl said “mommy look she has the same ouchies that you have” and the mother just looked up at me shocked and i put both my arms behind my back and i was literally about to cry and she showed me her arms and i saw her faded scars and that’s when i lost it, i was bawling and i dropped my arms to my side and she looked at them and she pulled me into a hug and just cried together … i honestly needed this because i’ve been in a really dark place mentally and i’ve shut everybody out and this just reassured me that i wasn’t alone and that i was going to get better

ilysmbam  asked:

what made you realize that Mark was The One?😌💞💓

believe it or not, i didn’t have a bias in got7 until the if you do era! & it was jackson at the time. i’ve been with them since their debut back in 2014. but the more i got to know mark and started paying more attention to him the more i found myself drawn towards his personality. like obviously he’s gorgeous. he’s called the visual for a reason but i was more drawn to his personality rather than his looks.

I like how quiet his is but is still so caring towards his members, family & friends. It just shows that you don’t need words to show someone you love them.
He’s the oldest out of the members but he doesn’t use that authority as an advantage which i find very endearing because in most asian countries, age differences are a big deal. (I know bc I have a friend that’s a day older than me and I still have to call them ate/kuya).
He also gets along so well with the other members. Like I can tell that he makes the effort to meet up with the members that don’t live in the dorm anymore. for example that one time where jackson came back to korea after being in china for a long time, mark said on his vlive that he met up with him or the fact that he visits youngjae at least once a week to see coco and that he also visits bambam now that he’s moved out. I like the fact that he puts in effort into these things.
AND WHEN HE’S WITH HIS NIECES OMG DON’T EVEN.

let’s be real, i could write a book to express how much and why i love mark tuan. lol but to answer your question, it was during fly era that i finally gave in and started my undying and unrequited love for mark tuan yien.

anonymous asked:

I get that Millennials aren't perfect or absolved of the issues that Boomers have, but shouldn't Boomers tale the brunt of the blame seeing as they are the ones with all the powers in government right now and make up most of the work force? And if there are issues in the Millennial generation, well, who raised us?

Look, I’ve got a long-standing beef with Millennial v. Boomer discourse that I could spend a few hours on, but lemme try to sum it up briefly. 

Many of the modern economic problems that affect many Millennials that are often blamed on Baby Boomers (unemployment/underemployment, soaring costs of education, loan debt, comparative lack of opportunities, poverty, etc. etc.) started well before our generation came of age. Most of these same economic issues fucked up Generation X before us, but because they were a smaller generation, people didn’t hear about it as much. And most of these problems grew directly from right-wing political and economic policies that began in the Reagan presidency in the 1980s, before the Boomers were in political ascendancy. (Yes, there were a few young Boomers in Reagan’s administration, but the leading neocons/neoliberals, using the actual meaning of the term, not the tumblr left’s version of it, who led the move rightward were older.) Boomers, by virtue of their age, enjoyed the unique benefits of the post-War (1945-1980) economy and many managed to escape the worst effects of the Reagan Era cuts, but not all did equally (see below.) And many of them, personally, are total clueless assholes about how unique their experience was. I have Boomer parents born in the early 50s, so like I know.  But one of the biggest problems I have with Millennial/Boomer discourse is that it de-politicizes and de-contextualizes important social/political/economic shifts that were the direct result of Republican policies. It reduces it all to just a generational conflict in which one selfish group of people just didn’t want to share their toys with their kids. And even if you accept the idea that one generation can personally screw over another via political means, the idea that Boomers would target their own children specifically is particularly odd. Though I’ll also point out that the “who raised us” issue is more complex, as the Boomer generation ends in 1964, and quite a lot of people born in the 90s who could still be considered Millennials, have parents born after that. 

As for the idea that Boomers make up the majority of the workforce, actually Millennials are now the largest segment of the workforce, slightly ahead of Gen X, with Boomers well behind. The oldest boomers are 71 now, and the youngest are 53. A lot of the oldest ones have retired and the younger ones are on their way there. X  As for having “all the powers in government” that’s a pretty hard thing to quantify. Trump and many of his key advisers are Boomers, but there are a number of GenX and Millennials too. Which is why I get annoyed at the idea that Millennials are somehow innately more compassionate and kind than older generations, because not really. Millennials overall are more democratic/left leaning than older voters, but Trump still won among white millennials.  Many baby boomers, too, were very liberal in their youth, and became more conservative with age, especially the white ones. It’s a pretty common thing to happen. It’s not as if that fate is going to magically spare our generation, so most of this discourse is not going to age well.

Which brings me to the other issue, that you can legitimately talk about Millennials and Baby Boomers as distinct groups with similar characteristics and experiences. Most of this discourse is highly race and class based but people don’t seem to acknowledge that. It’s focused around the experiences of middle to upper class white boomers and their kids, who presumably don’t have it as easy. And in many cases, this is probably true. Though if you’ve read any financial news in the last few years, they’ve been talking a lot about the huge amount of “wealth transfer” that has started from well-off Boomers to their kids. But for many other Boomers, this wealth never materialized. Plenty of people never had access to it thanks to their race or immigrant status. So the idea that one generation “owns everything” or needs to “take the blame” blurs the fact that within any generation there are huge differences in wealth and access to power.

Basically millennial/boomer discourse is ahistorical, apolitical, and focused on the experiences and expectations of middle class white kids, and that’s why I’m not here for it.

The Anti-Myth Masterpost

Out of sheer boredom and frustration, I’ve compiled a list of dumb things antis say and some facts to contradict them. Though I don’t think antis actually pay attention, they just vomit nonsense and never stick around for a rebuttal, here goes nothing anyway. Because I am tired of seeing good, pure people being harassed and sent death threats by these crazies. So here we go.

Anti-Myth: Otayuri is pedophilia.

Fact: Pedophilia is legally defined as attraction to or sex with a minor under the age of 13

Anti-Myth: Yurio is still a minor.

Fact: Yurio is now 16, the legal age of consent in Russia. He and whatever partner he chooses, as long as his partner is over the age of 16, is within their legal right. 

Anti-Myth: 16 year olds brains are not developed enough to comprehend sex.

Fact: A 16 year old can understand sex. Hell, even a 15 year old can. Teens at 15 or 16 hop into bed with older teens all the time–even I did. It’s actually normal. Plus, 16 is a far more common legal age of consent in the developed world anyway, this is not some perverted law by Russia and Kazakhstan, it’s actually very very normal. Even in Canada, 16 is the legal age of consent. If you’re American, respect your own laws, but we’re talking about A. fiction, and B. another country.

Anti-Myth: Otabek is too old for Yurio.

Fact: Otabek is literally 2.5 years older than Yurio. They’d literally be a junior and senior in high school, which happens all the time. It did with me, it did with countless others, and none of us were being abused. Plus, Otabek is not technically an adult, he’s still a teen himself. Same with JJ, if that is your ship. 

Anti-Myth: Shippers are disgusting because they are forcing Yurio into a sexual relationship and don’t respect their friendship.

Fact: Dude, if you want to see them as platonic friends, go ahead, no one is stopping you. Secondly, I’ve never met a shipper who doesn’t enjoy their friendship as being the stable building block of their relationship. For you, the relationship stops there. For us, we go on to see them as starting a romance after they’re ready. It’s all about the friendship, we just add to it.

Anti-Myth: Shippers like to sexualize 15 year olds. 

Fact: Well, maybe a few do. I mean, that’s what happens in big fandoms, you get some bad apples, especially if they come from countries themselves where the consenting age is 14 or something. But many, many shippers do not. They usually ‘sexualize’ Yurio when he’s a little older, or like to imagine him a little older when he starts becoming intimate. Plus it’s not just us, the creators and animators of the show have been sexing up Yurio for months now in official art, and with WTTM flashing his nipples and abs–I mean, don’t blame us.

Anti-Myth: Otayuri conditions children to think pedophilia is normal.

Fact: First of all, no it doesn’t. Yet again, pedophilia is any relationship where one is over the consenting age, and the other is under the age of 13. Which is not happening here. It may give them the impression that 16/18 is normal, and yeah it is, especially in many developed countries. If you have a problem with that, take it up with them, not us. This really should not be a hard concept. Also it’s FICTION. Do people jump into bed with their siblings after watching Game Of Thrones? No, because they’re not idiots. Not everything is based on American laws. This is an anime, written by a Japanese woman, made in Japan, and a lot of anime sexualizes young teens. No otaku I know of are hoping into bed with kids because of anime, unless they were already pedophiles. It doesn’t develop with a goddamn cartoon.

Anti-Myth: I’m uncomfortable with this ship because when I was younger I was abused by–

Fact: Okay, stop right there. I will try and explain this the best way I can. Whatever happened to you in your past is tragic and I do sympathize (one of my cousins was abused when she was younger so I know the horrors of dealing with that), but I’m sorry, it has nothing to do with shipping two teenagers. You’re imagining abuse, despite nothing canonically abusive happening. Otabek would never hurt Yurio. He’s no pervert. See, Americans who prey on 15 and 16 year olds do so because they KNOW it’s illegal. That’s why they do it. But if you’re from a country where, once again, the legal age of consent is 16, there is no abusive mindset. It’s normal behavior. There is no perversion or predatory behavior, because it’s not illegal. I do understand you being uncomfortable and it bringing up memories for you, but the reality of the situation is there is no actual abuse, and you really must try and understand that. This is literally like saying I can’t post pics of dogs because you were bit once, and that I’m condoning you being bit or something. It’s not true, nor is it fair to me, I just like dogs. But I do hope you find peace in your life.


All this being said, I will admit I use to be an anti myself. For about ten minutes, until I realized all this stuff and I knew I was being silly. And hey, there is a good chance Otayuri could become canon after everything we’ve seen, so it’s a good idea to be prepared for that by trying to understand these points I’ve made. It’s not too late to see things differently and to be a decent human being.

Can I ask why everyone thinks that Azula is Zuko’s little sister?

Because unless it was stated somewhere that Azula is 14 in the show, I’m kind of leaning towards her being older than Zuko. And I do actually have a few reasons for thinking this. 

1. It was stated by Ozai in the episode Zuko Alone that Azula was named after her grandfather Azulon

And usually, it is the first born child that is named after a grandparent or parent. And if Zuko was the first born why wouldn’t he be named Azulon? (And I know some of you are thinking, uh duh, because Ozai hated Zuko) But Zuko would have been a newborn baby, there was no way for Ozai to know he would dislike Zuko and thus save the name for his second child. That doesn’t make sense.

2. Now, this might seem off point but stay with me here. So you guys remember Tom-Tom? 

Yeah, Mai’s little brother. We know that he is 2 years old, and then later in the show, it is said that Mai is fifteen years older than her brother. Making Mai 17. And I just always assumed that Azula would be around her friend’s age. She is the same size and looks no younger than Mai. 

Of course, that is more my opinion than fact, but I still feel that Azula would be close to Mai’s age. And she can’t be sixteen because we all know that Zuko is sixteen, so unless they are twins, that can’t be. 

And we do in fact know that Zuko is sixteen because even though that was never said outright, when Zuko confronted his father he said “My father, who challenged me a thirteen-year-old boy, to an Agni Kai,”

 And in the first season, while yelling at Zhao, Zuko says, “I’ve been searching for the Avatar for three years now,” 

Proving to us that Zuko is sixteen. Meaning that if Azula is older she would have to be at least 17 if not older. 

3. Now, this is more my opinion again. But throughout the whole show Azula refers to Zuko as ‘Zuzu’, and I feel like that is something an older sibling would do rather than a younger. 

Of course, we’re talking about Azula here. So really she is probably doing this just to get under Zuko’s skin, and to make him feel inferior because we all know she is a huge manipulator. 

4. Okay, now this is the one that always had me thinking that Azula was the older sibling. So like I said before we know Zuko was 13 when his father burned and banished him. 

This is what Zuko looked like at thirteen. And he does look a lot younger. You can tell this was years ago. 

Now, look at Azula in the crowd watching. 

She looks almost the exact same. Zuko is clearly younger in this flashback, but Azula looks fully grown, and that was three years ago

And as a kid watching the show, that proved to me that she was the older sibling. And up until recently I still thought that. But now I am seeing all these posts about Azula being a 14yo. Which, is of course freakin awesome, because that means she was that cunning and evil at just 14

But it took away a lot of the aspects of her that made me really fear Azula as a character. 

As an older sibling myself, I found it really cruel and scary that Azula would hunt down and try to kill her little brother. (It is horrible whether she is younger or older) but it hit me harder thinking that she was going after a younger sibling rather than an older. 

If you are an older sibling than you know even if you don’t get along with your younger sibs, you still feel protective and want them to strive. And so the fact that Azula was always so cruel towards Zuko made her seem more evil to me. 

She also always knew how to manipulate and push Zuko’s buttons. And I always felt that for Zuko that would be a scary and uncomfortable thing to deal with. And if Azula is older, then there would be that want to impress her in some ways, and feeling less than her in other ways. Making him even easier to manipulate. 

And that was a main part of why I found Azula so evil. Because she should have felt protective towards her brother, but to her, everything was just striving towards power, it showed that she really didn’t have a lot of humanity in her. And I think that point was shown in her breakdown. 

And not only did this make Azula seem even crueler as a character to me. But it made Zuko’s choices more clear as well. 

If Azula is older, Zuko would still want to impress her. Just like he strived to impress his father. Maybe he didn’t want her love. But he would want her respect. And as a younger sibling, I can see him trying to also achieve this. He would feel that he had more to prove. 

And to me, this showed even more character in Zuko when he did leave everything behind. Because he knew that he would be leaving his sister and father behind (not that he cared about their love at this point) but I think that must have been a terrifying thing to do on his part. Because now he will be on the opposite side again. And even if Zuko didn’t think he would be facing his father again, I bet you he knew he would be facing his manipulative sister again.

And it would have been much easier for him to just leave it be, or to even just go hide somewhere where he wouldn’t be found. Because facing Azula again and again would be hard, especially when she knew right where to hit him to make it really hurt.   

And that is why the last Agni Kai felt like the final step for Zuko in redeeming himself. (At least for me) Because he was standing up to someone that must have been scary for him to face, he was putting it to an end, and it a way saying ‘I don’t need to bow down or be scared of you’, because at this point Azula probably didn’t seem as scary to Zuko as she had always seemed while growing up. 

So Azula being the the older sibling not only made her seem eviler, in my opinion, it made Zuko seem even braver. 

So unless proven otherwise, I think I’ll stick to my headcanons.

Age is but a Number, Love is Infinite

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,775

Warnings: age difference(nothing underage the reader is 21), language, implied sexy times

Request: Hey it’s ok if you don’t wanna do this but I was wondering if you could write a fic where Dean is his current age and the one reader just turned 20 but like her and Dean have known each other for a long time and have been together for a while and other people always say stuff about their relationship but they’re still just really happy together, maybe w/ a bit of smut?

A/N: I changed a few things like I said I would but overall I think I got what you wanted!! Shout out to @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid for being an awesome beta!! I hope you all like it and feedback is always appreciated!!! :D

Originally posted by frozen-delight

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it’s really sucks that a lot of discussions about respecting older fans in fandom has turned into white women saying they should have the freedom to go back to being able to perpetuate racist and toxic shit without consequence, but we really need to recognise the older women of colour (especially Black women, holy shit, especially Black women they were holding the line long before the rest us of and have been doing so much good work) who have been in fandom for 10-20+ years and have guided these discussions surrounding race in fan spaces.  (i wasn’t an active participant back then as i was now, so i’m not going to claim their legacy as my own but i am speaking as long-time woc in fandom)

older fans of colour - who were predominantly Black women, with a few non-black women of colour, and maybe what few white allies they had - started conversations about race and representation in media a long damn time ago. what tumblr does today is simply continue it. everyone who’s ever talked about racism in fandom discourse needs to recognise the foundations on which they’re building on. 

and i’m not saying that the conversations on tumblr are unimportant, or that the conversations back then were non-problematic, but it is still the labour and legacy of fans of colour that created that small part of fandom history, who used tooth and nail to carve out a space for themselves. 

conversations about racism in fandom and media are not new. conversations about how poc in media are erased, sidelined, brutalised, neglected, how poc in fandom are silenced and attacked, conversations about whitewashing and misogynoir in fandom - none of this is new. they’ve just been comparably difficult to find and spread before, because on previous platforms these discussions wouldn’t spread to different fandoms and communities as easily. they were not popular or easy discussions to have, white fans were not happy to be made aware of how their own behaviours were racist. and so a lot of it was ignored or silenced, if not ending in personal attacks, social ostracisation and flame wars. 

while civil conversations exited, they never gained the same amount of traction due to the limits of how blogging mediums worked at the time. these issues flared and died, but you can bet that they’ve been around for as long as fandom itself has.

we’re able to talk about the mistreatment, racism, misgynoir, anti-semitism and whitewashing etc, etc, in fandom today because we’re carrying on old conversation instead of building from scratch.

i’m hitting 30 in a couple of years time, at which point i’ll have been in fandom for 15 years. i’m critical to tumblr’s cries for ideological purity, but in general i’m not opposed to the direction fandom is heading in, if it means that it becomes more inclusive for more younger marginalised fans. but for the first handful of years of that time, i was ignorant and racist as shit, i had very little awareness of my own internalised prejudices, and i perpetuated a lot of shitty opinions. but i looked to fans of colour who were older than me for guidance and read their discussions about fandom politics and prejudices, i decided to learn and i am honestly so goddamn grateful that they existed.

there’s been a slow paradigm shift over the years. it’s still not great how much white fandom still focus on white men and idolise white women over poc, but people are talking about it more. which means that those discussions have gained tract and white fans are forced to be more and more aware of the racism they perpetuate. i’m not always comfortable with how tumblr goes about it, i generally dislike most of the Discourse, but it’s still more awareness than what it was when fandom was on LJ.

and the sole reason we have that is because older fans carried on those conversations and refused to let these issues die out. so if you’re still saying shit like “if you’re 30+ why are you still in fandom”: they’re here because they built this fucking place

"lighten up no one died"

Notice how before he says that David looks kinda angry or at least annoyed. And as soon as he says it he realizes it and starts to apologize before Jack cuts him off.
So why would he get so upset then? Well what if- and here me out here -what if Sarah isn’t the oldest Jacobs child.
In the stage version of newsies Sarah is never mentioned, but we all assume she still exists. So what if there’s a fourth Jacobs child older than the rest that was also never mentioned by David or Les. Their older brother.
What if they had an older brother who was a trolley worker. He went on strike with the union, which was something David really admired. Except at one rally things got violent, and he was killed. David and Les had to go to work to make up for both their father and their brothers lost income. Which would explain why both of them had to go. And would also explain why David was that hesitant to strike with the newsies. His brother died therefore he’s cautious, but he still wants to do right by him. It would also explain why David was so upset and regretful when and after saying “lighten up no one died”. Jack shouldn’t be that upset because Crutchie is still alive. Jack didn’t lose him. The circumstances alone upset David and everything just keeps reminding him of his brother, so he lashes out. He and Les never mention it because it’s too painful for them
This is a total shit post conspiracy theory but wouldn’t it be so much more emotional if they had a brother?? Like davids development and involvement in the strike. His motives would be completely different and a lot deeper and ahhhh

touhou ages that Fuck Me Up

  • cirno is at least 60. what is that. she’s a child
  • reisen is older than my mom. bunnies reach maturity at like 6 months old and if we assume reisen joined the army right at maturity, immediately before the lunar war started, that still makes her at least FIFTY
  • speaking of which tewi’s older than reisen by a lot. like, a LOT.
  • mokou is older than everyone in the myouren temple yet somehow has even LESS shit together
  • say marisa was 12 in eosd. that would make her… 25 today. marisa is a goddamn millennial.
  • again, let’s say sanae was in middle school in mof, like 13 or 14. today she’d be in her early 20s. if you assume she was in high school, that would make her like 26 what the  f uck
  • benben and yatsuhashi are. two. two years old. TWO
Random Prompts

- “You eat kitkats like a monster, honestly I don’t think I can love you anymore.”
“At least I know how to cough into my elbow like a civilized being.”

- “Do you ever realize that we act like an old married couple sometimes?”
“We are an old married couple…”

- “Do you know how to cook anything besides ramen?”
“Totally.”
“What?”
“Um… microwave popcorn.”

- “You are so weak when it comes to spicy food.”
“No I’m not.”
“Name 1 spice you enjoy.”
“Pepper counts, right?”

- “I would do anything to prove my love for you.”
“Drink that entire bottle of hot sauce then.” “I don’t love you that much.”

- “Dude, you cry over everything.” “No I don’t.”
“You cried when a fly you called your ‘friend’ flew out of the window, you left open.” “Listen, I just felt really close to Fred.”
“IT WAS A FLY.”

- “Why do we have a dog? We didn’t have a dog before I left.”
“Yeah, well, get with the times. Things change. Ugh, you’re just another old guy who doesn’t wanna accept that the world is changing.”
“1, You’re older than me. 2, You still haven’t told me why we now have a dog.”

- “Hey, do you love me a lot?“ “Of course!” “Enough to give me your garlic bread?” “F**k no.”
BTS Fic Recommendations

 There seems to be a weird divide in this fandom between reader x member and member x member stories, but I’m just here in the middle like “all Bangtan smut is good smut!” A good story is a good story and good writing is good writing. Some of these have no smut at all and some are so filthy that I can’t believe I’m recommending them, but, you know, BTS ruined my life and I have no shame anymore. 

I’ve probably read hundreds of BTS stories by now and these are the ones that I go back to over and over. I tried to pick only one per author, but all of these authors are amazing and you should go check out their whole masterlists. These are the authors that I personally fangirl over and stand in awe of. None of these are particularly similar to mine (eg. they are way better) and none of them are particular similar to each other. These are the fics that, for whatever reason, I couldn’t forget about after I read them.

Warning: Some of these are very explicit, so use caution. Anything marked with an M is definitely NSFW. 

Hope you enjoy!

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vigorretribution  asked:

Excuse me but what is "child grooming"???

I get this question alot so let’s break it down.

Trigger warnings for discussions of abuse and pedophilia below!

According to the NSPCC, child grooming is defined as “when someone builds an emotional connection with a child to gain their trust for the purposes of sexual abuse, sexual exploitation or trafficking.” (x) This differs from traditional cases of child abuse/molestation in that the abuser (and in most cases even the victim!) maintain they are participating in a consensual relationship. This is because the much older groomer preys upon their younger person’s inexperience to convince them what they’re doing is okay, and this manipulation is what leads to victims being unaware of their own abuse until it’s too late.

Child grooming can take place over the course of weeks, months, or even years, and can target anyone from children to teens. Child grooming occurs in stages, as explained here by forensic psychiatrist Dr. Michael Welner. The basic structure goes as such:

  • finding a child that both suit your needs and needs something in return
  • filling that child’s need/earning the child’s trust/making the child idolize you
  • isolating the child from their friends/family 
  • sexualizing the “relationship”
  • blackmailing/maintaining control of the child (”they wont understand what we have” “if you love me you will only hang around me”)

If you will notice, the sexual nature of child grooming doesn’t come into play until after the victim has formed a relationship with their abuser. That, in my opinion, is the most despicable part of this tactic. Child groomers dont just want sex with children, they want complete control over someone much less experienced then they are. They want to groom and shape their victim into not just a sexual object, but also an unquestionably obedient “partner” that will put up with their abuses far into the future. Child groomers will tell their victims they are different from other people their age, more mature. They will isolate their victims from outside sources of support, making their victim rely solely upon their care and approval. 

In short, they will attempt to own them.

Child grooming is an extremely harmful, yet tragically ignored form of abuse. This is especially prevalent in cases involving teenagers- a demographic so desperate to feel mature they will trip into relationships with people twice their age to prove their level of maturity.  People tend to overlook these instances of child grooming because “if they’ve already gone through puberty it’s not pedophilia!!!1!!”, but what these people fail to realize is that even though most teens are sexually matured in the physical sense, their brains are still undergoing the transition between child and adulthood. Teens are probably the biggest targets of child grooming for this reason exactly: they look older than a child, but they can still be manipulated like one. Believe me, child groomers know this, and they use it to their advantage every day. 

On a personal note, I met my abuser just weeks after my 18th birthday. Legally, I was an adult. Physically, I was matured. But when it came to relationships and intimacy I was completely inexperienced- which made it oh so easy for my (old enough to be my father *shudders*) groomer to swoop in and completely brainwash me into thinking our relationship was okay. This is why i’m angered when people argue that “age gap” relationships are fine as long as everyone is above the legal age of consent. News flash: everyone matures at their own pace, and relationships between teens and fully-grown adults will never be okay.

I repeat: whether you be an 8-year-old or an 18-year-old, any sort of non-platonic relationship with someone old enough to be your parent is harmful

Even if it isn’t immediately sexual. Even if they tell you they love you. Even if they say they’ll “wait till you’re legal”. Romantic relationships between adolescents and adults are founded on an imbalance of power, plain and simple. So please, learn the signs of child grooming to help protect yourselves and the young people in your life. 


(Sidebar: I know I’m a fandom blog and this post can easily be attributed to ships so I just want to clarify I am not talking about relationships between people who are like… 17 and 20. Teens and adolescents should be free to explore intimacy with other people of their same age/ experience levels. When I say “adult” I’m referring to anyone with a significant lead on years/ experience i.e a 45 year old and a 17 year old.)

Somehow I feel like this post is incomplete, but I can’t think of what I could write. If I think of something else, I’ll add reblog and add to it. Hi everyone! So the story is I received an ask from a high school junior who was stuck with a teacher for her Latin elective who champions self-learning and has apparently been teaching extraneous content. The asker wanted to know how to get good grades for Latin when they’ve lost their passion, so I thought that I would make a post about Dealing with Bad Teachers. 


DEALING WITH THE TEACHER

Firstly, self-learning is important and the teacher has good intentions for you. But it’s something that develops over time, and isn’t usually enforced for entire course loads. It is should be a legal requirement that the teacher teaches you the core syllabus set by your state/government, so politely and privately (via email or otherwise) request her to follow it, emphasising that you feel a lack of support (“it’s me not you”). If she refuses to change her teaching method, take it up (again privately) with the faculty head teacher. Of course, you need to actually collate the syllabus points which have not been covered so that you can present your case. 

STUDYING FOR A SUBJECT WHERE YOU HAVE A BAD TEACHER

  • If you can’t do anything about the teacher, unfortunately you’re going to have to put in extra work to stay on top of things

  • Get a support network of friends, and maybe even students in the other class can help; ask them to send you resources that the other Latin teacher is supplying so that you can self-study. 

  • Get your friends to give you feedback and help you study. 

  • Find textbooks, and schedule a chapter a week or however many you need to cover all the content by the end of the term when you have exams. A textbook teaches just as well, or even better than a bad teacher (though it’s not anywhere close to a good teacher unfortunately). 

STUDYING A SUBJECT YOU AREN’T INTERESTED IN

As for learning something that you’re really uninterested in, this is something I had to face every year whilst studying English. I hated English since I was more a maths/science student, but I still forced myself to study, and just do it for the marks.

I hated the idea of getting low marks for the subject more than actually doing the subject, so like the pottery story, I would just write essay after essay, story after story, until I improved. I had an older cousin that I would send my work to, and she would give me feedback so I could improve the story. And you know what? At the end of all that, I actually didn’t find English so bad, because I raised my English marks to a Band 6 (which is the highest band in Australian HSC), and I felt proud of the work that I did. Usually, you only start liking what you’re good at. There’s this really nice quote that I found that sums it up:

When you work hard at something you become good at it.
When you become good at something you enjoy doing it more.
When you enjoy doing something, there is a good chance you will become passionate about it. (source)

LEARNING A LANGUAGE

As for learning a language specifically, you need to try to become interested in the language that you’re studying. For me, I really liked studying Japanese because I liked reading manga, and Korean because I like listening to Kpop. So why do you want to learn Latin? It’s difficult for a dead language, but find something that interests you; I’ll recommend word origins! That’s the most interesting thing about Latin imo :)

Try working through the vocab and grammar systematically. Learn 1 new grammar structure everyday, and make flashcards with the words you need to know for the exam. There are plenty of tips around studyblr for individual languages :)


MY WEEKLY STUDY TIPS

WHAT I WISH I’D KNOWN BEFORE UNIVERSITY STUDY TIPS SERIES

SEE ALSO

GOT fic:

Title: dawn comes sure as winter
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Jon x Daenerys 
Summary:  here is only her and him, and the endless, dreaming night. [The night after 7x06, Daenerys and Jon find each other].

++++

He awakens in the pale dawn light, feeling Daenerys stir at his side. The ship is quiet but for the soft pitch and rock of the cradling sea, and it seems the crew are mostly slumbering – few footsteps, no voices. Only the breath of the dragon queen, and his own, in his cabin, and the ever present wash of the oceans beyond them.

If he hadn’t felt the heat of her bare skin before he’d opened his eyes – gods but she runs hot as wildfire – he might assume he’d dreamed her visit the night before. The ache in his chest, the rasping cough, the exhaustion set deep in his creaking bones – all slipping away the moment there came a tap on his door, and Daenerys, looking in on him, cautious and shy.

Keep reading

charming-langst  asked:

I NEED more of your mafia au in my life. So please continue, I'll make it worthwhile. *slides you Shiny Ninetails Pokémon card and a pack of Trident two layer gum*

Okay everyone, I would just like to say that yes, there will be a Part 4 because I still have some scenes in mind. But the fact that you take time to send me asks about the MafiaAU: Lance Salazar really made my day as well as when some of you commented on the post itself. And thanks to those who liked it and special thanks to those who shared it!

Also @charming-langst​….how did you guessed that I like nine tails? *narrowing my eyes at you* are you spying on me? Joke! But really, it was such a coincidence that you guessed my favorite!


At the age of eight, Lance’s studies about their world started. His childhood became limited ever since he showed his intelligence level once during the family’s recreational activities. Honestly, Lance thought that they were just playing a simple board game. His father explained to him the rules and for little Lance back then, it was fairly easy. He beat his father five times in a row. It was after a few years passed when Lance discovered that his father was a genius chess player (Vongola Decimo always called his father for a game or two) and strategist.

At the age of twelve, Lance sneaked into the meeting room of his father due to a dare from one of his siblings. He didn’t manage to get inside the room though for a certain man caught his attention. Maybe the man was near his fifties but his features still showed that he was one of those types that could easily get the attention of others. Later on, he discovered that the name of the man was “Reborn” and that he was the most trusted adviser of Vongola Decimo. The guy was also known as the number one hitman in the Mafia world. Maybe this Reborn person saw something in him for the next day Decimo himself visited Lance personally. They chatted for a bit and play some board game called “Games of the Generals”. Lance managed to win 2 out of 3.

Lance was a natural charmer. He could melt anyone’s heart (hearts that were not frozen cold) and he knew this himself. Sometimes he used it to his advantage whenever he was kidnapped. But if things got worst then there was a reason why he was trained how to use the gun.

He was no stranger to blood. Once or twice he passed through their interrogation rooms and the sight of bloodied and dismembered bodies became a norm for him. Lance made his first interrogation at 15 when he and his youngest sister got kidnapped. A few exchanged of gun shots here and there, and Lance managed to turn the tables around. The hunter became the hunted, a phrase said from a number of his favourite movies.

Lance was labelled as “Young Demon” that day.

Just because he was used to the sight and smell of murder didn’t mean that he wanted to live his whole life like this. Lance has dreams of his own. He has dreams that he wanted to reach with his own hands.

Hands of Lance and not the hands of Salazar’s.

Lance knew that the Vongola Decimo favoured him from the rest of the children of their allies. Though he never knew the reason why, Lance used this to his advantage. He listed all the reasons why he wanted to get out, why he wanted to be freed. Of course all of his reasonings were weak, Lance knew this and the Vongola knew this. But still, Decimo talked to that Reborn person and after a few hours of waiting, they escorted Lance back to the Salazar’s mansion and talked about the future with the Salazar Don.

At the age of 16, Lance was no longer a member of the dark world. He was just an ordinary civilian.

Yeah, right.

Everyone knows you could never escape the underworld, especially if you were born inside it.

The deal made was consisted of: one, Lance would stay in the vacation house given to him by Decimo himself and located in Cuba. Two, some Salazar’s men would check up on him personally every other week. Three, he was not allowed to invite any civilian (even though Lance was technically considered as civilian also) in his house. Four, he was obligated to meet or talk to the family in important events which was birthdays and Christmas.

So all in all it was like he had just taken a temporary vacation away from the Mafia.

And it was a good thing he only cut the Mafia ties but not his ties as a blood relative.

Because Lance loved his family with all his heart, never question him about this.


Pidge was beyond irritated right now. Who would have thought that Lance was a Salazar? That Salazar. It was like suddenly all the pieces clicked together into their own proper places. She thought Lance was born in a family of soldiers or just used to play strategic games during his teenage years.

She never freaking expected that Lance was born inside the Mafia.

It was lunch time and everyone was eating together. When Pidge said everyone she did meant everyone. Lance just gave his servants one look and they all settled themselves with the rest of team Voltron on the dining area after they put down all the foods and drinks.

The table was a bit similar to the one they used in the castle. It was long and elliptical in shape, she was used seeing Allura to be on what the Paladins had dubbed as the head part of the table so seeing Lance in that position was very unusual for Pidge. Lance kept cooing like a baby when he saw the foods and drinks on the table, at least some things hadn’t changed. Pidge didn’t really know if she knew Lance that deep despite being stuck together in space for five years.

“Wow! Esmeralda, your cooking is the best! No offence, Hunk.” Lance added the last sentence as an afterthought when he took a bite of what he called ropa vieja.

“None taken, Lance. This taste really good.”

Esmeralda, Pidge assumed it was the woman sitting across from her, smiled when she heard the praises of the rest of the Paladins and the obvious delight of the two Alteans when they started to eat also.

“Thank you. We really missed your presence here, Young Master.”

“Ah…I’ll say stop calling me ‘Young Master’ but…”

“But we will just keep doing it because someone needs to remind you what is your real position.” It was the head butler named Alejandro who spoke before cleaning his lips using the napkin and Pidge was reminded of those movies where people try to learn proper table manners in just one night. Good thing Lance didn’t care about proper etiquette inside his own house.

“Give me a break, Alejandro. I’m already 24 years old! I’m not that young boy anymore!”

“And yet you are still that young boy who almost gave Master Halberd a heart attack when he saw you waving a gun.” One of the maids named Juliana commented as she poured Allura’s cup with apple juice.

“That was one time! And it was Falcata’s fault for leaving her gun on her study table.” Pidge could not believe it, Lance was pouting because his servants were ganging up on him. She could not consider this as sharing embarrassing stories because imagining little Lance waving a gun with the safety either on or off was not a really good picture in her mind right now.

“Come to think of it, isn’t it because of that that Master Khanda started teaching Young Master Lance how to hold a gun?” Marcelo looked up at the ceiling as if it could verify his words.

“Emphasize the word hold. Mistress Flyssa threw a fit when she saw her older brother teaching Young Master Lance how to shoot.” Benita snickered when she refreshed the memory of her twin brother.

“And because of that, Master Halberd was forced to step in and declared that Young Master Lance will only be allowed to shoot a gun when he reached the age of thirteen.”

“Hey, you are just two years older than me, Learco! Why are you calling me ‘Young Master’ too?! And why are you guys sharing my childhood stories to my friends?!” Lance started hitting the table with his right hand like a petulant child as he focused his gaze on the left side of the table where his butlers and maids were seated.

“Because it’s fun~” Sylvia sang as she waved her fork around.

“And two years is still two years. Which means that you are technically my ‘Young Master’.” Learco grinned but ducked under the table on the last second when Lance threw his glass towards him.

“I can’t believe this,” Lance held his chest in a show of mock hurt, “betrayed by my second family. After five years and this is the welcome that I get? I should have fired all of you before I got blasted in space by a sentient lion.”

“We really missed you, Young Master Lance.” Pidge heard the oldest human male in the room and she saw that the man was giving Lance a fatherly smile which their Blue Paladin returned with an equally soft smile.

“See? Only Grandpa Eterio lives up to his name!”

“Eh, that is because Grandpa Eterio likes to baby you, Young Master.

“That’s it.”

Learco yelped when Lance took hold of the knife beside his plate and jumped towards him. The rest of the maids and butlers just continued eating and coaxed the Voltron team to do the same while Learco was running for his dear life because Lance has long legs and the stamina to run a five kilometer marathon.

If this was the people that Lance considered as his second family then Pidge thought that she must ready herself in meeting the main family.

No wonder Lance asked them to bring their bayards.

Langst Mini Fic: The Second Family

Previous / Next

Mafia AU: Lance Salazar (OCs mini guide) 

Eldritch Monstrosities

@grey2510 made the mistake of tagging me with a vague request for thoughts on Eldritch Monstrosities right after the episode aired.  I have too many thoughts.  My friends have been putting up with me begging, whining, and pleading for some form of Eldritch monster for months — and not just the Eldritch Bunker, as much as I enjoy that headcanon.

One of the problems that SPN has is reduction of scope.  Everyone likes to comment on this in the form of “demons used to be so scary and now…”  One of the basic tenants of the show is that humans are the real monsters; therefore all monsters are human, on some level or another.  This is great for themes, but there’s a certain point where clinging to that tenant starts to mess with the sense of scope/scale to the universe and the overall tone of the show.

We’ve gotten to the point where even God and his Sister are people, and that’s a problem for a show that relies upon escalation in its Big Bad mytharcs.  You can’t go bigger than the being that created everything and the being that was there before even him.

Originally posted by hellsbells91

Unless you go back further.

One of the basic formula for creation myths is “in the beginning there was Chaos; and then there was a division between opposites.”  Light and dark, fire and ice, earth and sky, yin and yang.  Sometimes the gods create the division, and sometimes it’s just there before the gods are.

The Empty is our Chaos.  It’s the answer to the riddle of “what came before eternity?”

Back up, what the heck do you mean when you say Eldritch Monstrosity?

The definition of eldritch is something eerie, weird, spooky, otherworldly; (also “oblong” in certain dictionaries).  There are theories that tie the origin of the word back to the Fae Folk and Faerieland.  Where most people know it from is H.P. Lovecraft, though I am not going to delve into him.

When it’s used in a fictional setting, it’s shorthand for something otherworldly, but more than that it’s something that we can’t properly understand.  It’s beyond the scope of human reality, something so big and so powerful and so far above the world that we can’t even begin to get a hold on it.

I also need to expand my definition a little bit here; because of the genre we’re operating in, creature and being does not just mean humanoid, or tentacle god-thing, or morphic smoke or goo.  It’s also buildings and locations (see The House of Leaves, The Haunting of Hill House, and Demonreach in The Dresden Files for good examples of location and building entities).

For characters, look at beings like Discworld’s Death; Dream and the other Endless from Sandman; Tom Bombadil from The Lord of the Rings; any of Lovecraft’s Elder Gods; or creatures like the Pale Man from Pan’s Labyrinth.  In Supernatural, Death has been our key example for years, and he’s really the best example for scope.

Death: “You have an inflated sense of your own importance.  To a thing like me, a thing like you, well.  Think how you’d feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky.  This is one little planet, in one tiny solar system, in a galaxy that’s barely out of its diapers.  I’m old, Dean, very old.  So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you.”  

Dean: “How old are you?”  

Death: “As old as God.  Maybe even older, neither of us can remember any more.  Life, death, chicken, egg; regardless, at the end I’ll reap Him too.”

Amara is a similar creature, though we get to see less of her Otherness because of how season 11 is constructed and out of sheer necessity.  It’s fairly easy to anthropomorphize Death (we’ve been doing it for centuries), but a being that’s essence is Nothingness has to be seriously scaled down for human characters to interact with it.  Amara was also trying to understand Creation, which isn’t something Death wanted to do.  Still, there are scenes like human!Amara talking to mirror!Amara that make me jump up and down and point frantically at Sandman and Dream’s gem analogy: that this massive Being’s existence in our realm, what we perceive as Dream (or Amara) in physical form, is basically the light reflecting off of one facet of a jewel.  It’s only part of the whole; only a partial perspective and view of the deeper reality.

And now we have the creature from the Empty, something older than God, or the Darkness.  A location with a personality who really wants to sleep.

Originally posted by crispychrissy

Okay but why should I care?

Outside of the fact that the Empty being a creature reintroduces scope to the universe?  There are older things out there than God, Monster, or Man and they’re awake.  This is why I also frequently clamor for the show to re-do the Fae Folk; again, Supernatural has sacrificed scope for theme over the years.  The monsters are all people, so the only way to get real monsters back is to go full on Eldritch.

But that’s not why they’re important.  Eldritch Beings, as far as SPN is concerned, are mirrors.

When we’re talking in terms of writing and storytelling, eldritch creatures reflect the characters and world around them.  If it’s a location, the set is designed, lit, and decorated so that it reflects someone or something; if it’s a character, they mirror themes or arcs.

This is why @floralmotif and I lovingly call two of the recurring sets Eldritch Monstrosities (the Bunker and one particular Diner).  The Bunker has internal illogical inconsistencies, and the diner has showed up at least from s4 to s12; most of the time the sets are identical, but the ways that they are altered/redecorated/relit act as emotional mirrors for the characters present, to an even greater extent than normal sets.  (This kind of mirroring does not happen in the ‘Hell’ set, ever, or Bobby’s house, or any of the other handful of recurring sets we visit).  It’s an extension of how the show naturally uses set design (like the ever-popular beer signs), they just spill over into this category because at some point their use/reuse passed the realm of logic and went full “okay how the hell does this even work in-universe.”

Originally posted by tributeofasgard

Amara was a mirror for Dean; a being consumed by rage because of loss, fighting to reconcile disparate parts of themself into one cohesive whole, who was searching for emotional completion (in all the wrong places).

Jack fully qualifies as an Eldritch Monstrosity, both in power scope and in how he functions in the story.  He’s the ultimate mirror right now; whenever he’s with a character he ends up reflecting their emotions, and he’s also mirroring a bunch of individual arcs all at once.  His powers and true nature are outside of everyone’s understanding right now; only the fact that he’s limited (and adorable) keeps him from appearing ridiculously terrifying.

And now, again, we have the Empty.  We have a being/location that automatically qualifies as an Eldritch Monstrosity by its nature (the anthropomorphic personification of the Void wants to have a nap), that is reflecting and mirroring the emotions of a character.  Only this time it’s explicit: the Empty is an actual dark pit of despair, beating Cas over the head with his failures and fears and all the reasons he blames himself; telling him to give in to the darkness, to sleep, to stop fighting.  It’s the physical manifestation of his depression.

I don’t know if the Empty will return: I hope it will, in some form or fashion.  I hope there are other things out there in the dark.  I really really hope my other crazy theory is right, and that Amara, Death, Billie, and the Empty are all aspects of the same Dark Being.  But for now, it’s served its purpose.  We’ve gained another layer of scope, which is crucial for a soft reboot like s13 is, and the Anthropomorphic Personification of Cas’ depression tried to beat him into submission and failed.

Two Halves Of A Whole

Requested by Anonymous 

Word Count: 4,264

Warnings: More plot than usual, more fluff than usual (neither of which you should get used to), a beautiful oxymoron of emotional smut, if there is such a thing. 

Please message me and let me know what you think. I deviated from my norm per request but still need your delicious feedback anyway before I get unsightly worry lines in my forehead, I’m far too young for them. Happy sinning! 

Dinner had been the worst kind of awkward - something that should have been happy but wasn’t. The boys were shells of their former selves, and the air was weighted with the knowledge of it. John was humorless and looked ten years older than he had before he left. Tommy was stoically absent in words and tightly reserved in actions. Arthur was the only one with any kind of fire in him, artificially fueled by the whiskey he’d been drunk off of long before the boys had stepped foot off the train in Birmingham.

It should have felt better to glance to the opposite end of the table and see Tommy, his chair no longer achingly empty. But you were discovering that there wasn’t much difference, his presence painful in its own way. The two of you had barely spoken, and there had been chances to, plenty ever since you two had desperately shoved your way to each other in the crowded train station.

Tommy’s crushing hug as people milled around you had been a false impression of what else he had to offer, taciturn and distant since the moment he’d let you go. Not anger, but an indifference - his arctic gaze blank when he managed to look at you at all.

“Just go on up love, I’ll finish these,” Polly muttered to you after dinner, the two of you scrubbing dishes and speaking in hushed tones, the house mostly quiet except for Tommy’s occasional footsteps on the floor above your heads.

“What if he found someone else?” you whispered, ignoring her and continuing your scrubbing. Polly was the only person you’d told your worst fear to. “What if he doesn’t love me anymore? Do you think that’s it?”

“Right, now you’ve lost it. Go,” Polly ordered, snatching the dishtowel from you. “Not even war could tear you two apart and you know it. Go on!”

“Fine,” you griped, dragging your feet as you headed upstairs. You had pictured it all very differently - you had been excited. Now you felt nothing but childish and avoidant, wanting to run into Ada’s room instead of your own, even though the man you’d loved since you were fifteen was finally back in it.

The pain of Tommy leaving had been unreal, your other half missing from a bed that grew colder each night he was gone. The two of you never stopped writing  - your collection of Tommy’s letters filled two whole spaces underneath loose floorboards in the room you shared. But reading them had eventually made you feel more helpless than ever, each one laced with a resigned pain as his heart grew heavier with each passing day. And now that heart stood in front of you, Tommy slowly poking at the fire in your bedroom with a hand in his trouser pocket.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you felt loud and piercing, and when Tommy turned to look at you you thought he might be annoyed, your entrance breaking his peace. But if he was disturbed he didn’t show it, barely registering you before turning back around.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you watched him. He looked taller somehow, manlier and domineering in a stance you barely recognized as something that belonged to him. The top-half of a scar peeked out from his undershirt, the red twisted skin warping on his shoulder each time he turned the fire.

Without thinking you walked to him and touched the skin lightly, tracing its shape, the edges looking like torn paper. The feeling of Tommy’s skin under your fingers was surreal, and your heartbeat felt loud.

“I remember when you - and Freddie - wrote me about this,” you murmured, “I thought it would be lower.”

Tommy continued to roll the fire, his voice blank. “Spend a lot of time picturing it, did you?”

“No,” you shrugged sadly, “couldn’t help it, I suppose.”

Automatically, like you used to, you arched up on your toes to kiss the back of his neck on the last knot of his spine your height could reach. Tommy’s shoulders briefly relaxed, his skin warm over the slacking muscles. But then they were tense again, stiff under your lips until he shifted his weight away from you, ending your kiss in such a way that made you feel like your chest had cracked.

“I have to go,” Tommy said, hanging the fire poker before walking towards his jacket. Dread crawled over your skin as you watched his back retreat, his eyes having yet to meet yours.

“O-Oh,” you stammered, feeling silly and unwanted; your face grew hot in the heavy pause between the two of you. “Have I done something?”

“No,” he answered you, breathy and dismissive. “I just have things to do.”

“Tommy,” you said quietly, watching him lace his shoes. “It’s late, and I thought you’d want to - I don’t know,” you shook your head in exasperation. “It’s been four years, Tommy.”

Intently focused on his coat, Tommy had nothing to say as he shrugged the black wool onto his newly-broadened shoulders.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice fractured and small.

Tommy winced, the only sign of life he had to give. Finally looking at you he sighed, scanning your face. Words unsaid rippled across his sculpted features and parted his lips until he thought better of it, the words catching in his throat and staying there. You caught the briefest flash of life in his eyes, a foggy window into heartache and torment. But then it was gone, his expression set as he pressed his lips against your hair quickly.

“I’ll be back later,” he turned and put his cap on, walking towards the door and unraveling you as he went.

“Is there someone else? In France?” you sputtered impulsively when Tommy had the door open halfway, tears beading in your lashes. “Tell me.”

Tommy sighed but didn’t turn, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no one else.”

“Then what is it then?” Your voice was growing loud in desperation, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “Is it me?”

“No,” Tommy’s voice was heavy, strained. “I have to go.”

A sob fell apart in your chest as the door shut, Tommy taking the little warmth and hope you had as he left. The bed bounced as you dropped onto the mattress, the coldness of its deafening emptiness burning through your dress and into your skin. Heartsore and tired, you put your face in your hands and cried.

******

Warmth enveloped you, soft and homey as you lay in bed. Eyelids fluttering, you drifted through the beautiful purgatory of being in between sleep and wakefulness. The air was cold as you breathed it in, smelling like the crisp, dry sweetness of coming snow as it briefly dredged your thoughts from slumber to visit the night.

As you rolled over and back into dreamland, the spicy smell of skin and whiskey filled your nose and you sighed in longing.

The brief pang of pain - one you had grown accustomed to - reminded you of what dreams felt like. Curling into the memories of Tommy’s warmth under the sheets, you found him there and slid your arms around his neck, ignoring the giggling French dolls in your mind that tried to beckon you towards nightmares instead.

Listening to Tommy whisper your name like a siren’s song, over and over, distant and far away, you groaned with content as you leaned back into the pillows. Somewhere in your conscious mind you knew Tommy - or a version of Tommy - had come home. Whether he still loved your or not was an issue for reality in the morning. The Tommy who was here now, drinking in your skin and whispering to you with whiskey lips was the Tommy that both your memories and your dreams knew well, and it was the one you chose.

But the Tommy of your dreams began to feel oddly real, his kisses hot across your collarbones as he twirled strands of your hair around his fingers and pulled at them gently. The taste of whiskey drew you one step closer to the land of the living, Tommy’s tongue warm with it as he finally pressed his lips to yours, kissing you and groaning with a deepness that shook your bones awake.

Without thinking you kissed him back, grateful for any scraps of love he could painfully tear from himself to give you. No matter how much you wanted to question, to speak, you didn’t dare break the trance of Tommy moving over you, pushing your nightgown up to your ribs while you traced the planes of his bare chest. Although the taut bands of muscle over his frame were new, he still felt like home and you hoped you did too.

Kissing him was easy, a seamless dance that you had gone too long without - although neither of you had forgotten a step. Running your hands over him, you reacquainted yourself with the new feelings of his knotted scar and the short velvet hair on his head. The thin skin below his ear was still soft on your lips, the growl it produced was still hungry. You felt each knot of his spine, trailing a finger up and down their ridges.

Tommy returned his lips to your neck and you opened your eyes, feeling him nudge your knees apart with one of his to settle his hips between your legs. The candle had been blown out, the bedroom nothing but moonlight-colored shapes. As wakefulness began to clear your mind, Tommy’s kisses stopped feeling like love and began feeling like desperation, your body Tommy’s idea of a solution to a problem he hadn’t been able to solve with whiskey and fighting.

Failing to hide your emotion, you inhaled shakily and Tommy immediately halted, your chest rattling with the thickness of uninvited tears. Tommy inched back up to you and pressed his forehead to yours, swiping the moisture from your cheeks with his thumbs and shushing you gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling like it was your first time all over again, vulnerability laced into every bit of you as you shook your head until Tommy held it still. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“Don’t be,” Tommy whispered, rubbing circles into your temples before he laid in the crook of your neck. You felt his eyes scrunch shut against your skin.

“If there’s somebody else-”

“It’s not somebody fuckin’ else,” Tommy snapped. Cold air rushed into the space between you as Tommy pushed up and away from you, sitting back on his heels, hands on his thighs. He muttered to himself before wrenching his eyes shut again, bowing his head with a voice edged with exasperation. “It’s me, alright? It’s fucking me. Fuck.”

A hurt you hadn’t felt in a few weeks took hold of you and sunk in, your soul weighted with the same heaviness was planted when Tommy’s letters had begun to get bleaker. The hasty scrawls of ink on the scraps of foraged paper had seeped with an unsoothable pain, but now it was here before you, the grief dark as it bled from him.

The calm that only realization could bring came over you as you watched twelve steady rises and falls of Tommy’s shoulders, thinking he looked as lovely as you had ever found him. Sitting up, you brought the sheet with you and settled on your knees before him, your face even with the top of his drooping head. The faint moonlight shone on what remained of his longer locks, making their glossy darkness pallid and flat.

“You can tell me, Tommy.”

“There’s nobody fucking else-”

“Not that - I believe you,” you interrupted him as gently as you could, reaching up to touch his chiseled cheek. “You can tell me anything Tommy. That hasn’t changed. Has it?”

Tommy laid his hand over yours, pressing it harder into his pale skin. He looked at you with a set jaw. “I’ve changed. Things have changed.”

“I know,” you said softly, the two of you observing each other for a few moments as a carriage passed outside, hooves clopping heavily in the empty night.

Sweeping a lock of dark hair from his forehead, you smiled and felt the dried tear stains split dryly on your cheeks. “Do you think that scares me, Thomas?”

“I’ve done things,” he said simply, not answering your question. He didn’t look at you as he rubbed your cheekbone, following the path of his thumb with sad eyes. “And I’ve seen things. Alright? It won’t be the same.”

“Do you love me any less?”

“No,” he whispered, voice strained with emotion as he squeezed your hand for emphasis. “That will never change.”

“And I don’t love you any less, Thomas Shelby. You don’t scare me.” Craning your neck to silence his protests with a kiss, you murmured against the softness of his lips, “I don’t need you to be the same - we don’t need it to be the same. I love you, and all the demons you brought back with you, too.”

Tommy’s forehead pressed against yours as he shut his eyes and sighed heavily, your noses brushing. Pulling you close, he clutched you to him with a need that kept you silent, his hair tickled your shoulder as he settled into the crook of your neck. Stiffening slightly in surprise before sliding your arms over his shoulders, you let him lean on you and trailed your fingers over the freckled skin of his back, exhaling emptiness so you could fill your lungs with him.

Time passed, the paleness of the moon lightening your bedroom as it rose higher in the black sky. Tommy held you tightly, a silent statue even as his eyes wet the dip of your collarbone, the drops pooling there as you brushed the top of his head slowly. Knowing he didn’t want words, you said nothing as you played with different locks of hair and gazed out the window at the black spread of rooftops.

The rhythmic coexistence between the two of you began to lull you to sleep, your breathing matched. Tommy’s hand tracing your spine was mesmeric, grazing your skin slowly as you leaned on each other.

Tommy straightened when he felt you start to flirt with sleep, your wakefulness willingly returning when he pressed his lips to yours softly. Feeling him move your legs around his waist felt as natural as it ever had, the muscle memory eager to be remembered.

Whispering your name whenever he got the chance, Tommy held you tight and ran his hands wherever they could reach, as if he was finally realizing he was home, and you were real. You finally felt like you weren’t kissing someone who was lost, the movements of Tommy’s lips against yours were not empty of life, no longer a barren forest.

The rough callouses of his hands scraped you in a way that made your back arch and your breaths grow heavy, Tommy suddenly insatiable in his need for your skin, swearing as he gripped you everywhere he could.

By the time your hips had begun to roll into each other’s you were hot with wetness and hunger, gasping wispily as Tommy sucked at your neck and murmured to you, sliding a hand under your nightgown to trace one nipple and then the other. Fingers curled into his muscles, you held him tight as you felt his cock harden against you, the dry friction of his boxers on your lingerie the most pleasure either of you had had in years.

By the time Tommy tossed you backwards onto the pillows your clothing had made piles on the floor, Tommy’s boxers lying dangerously close to the dying but still capable fire. His skin was stark in the moonlight as he crawled over your body, eyes shut as he savored the taste of your skin, sheened with sweat.

But his lips were all you wanted to taste, and you clawed for him until his face was near yours again. Kissing him fervidly, you traced Tommy’s cheekbones and held his head to yours as your tongue danced gracefully with his. When he pulled away and held himself over you in silence a single strand of fear brushed you, taunting.

“What is it?” you breathed, your hands trailing down his hardened biceps.

Gazing at you half-lidded, Tommy eased down onto his forearms after a few moments and shook his head. “I’ve missed you, love.”

Tommy moved lower to run his tongue over your nipples, your chest hitching shallowly and then deeply when he slipped a finger into the hot wetness between your legs, running up and down with a tantalizing slowness.

“Have you missed me?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Tommy hummed in approval, moving down your body until he could watch himself work, leaving love bites on your inner thighs while he pushed his finger inside of you, his smirk devious and familiar as it crept across his face when you arched into him.

Your skin was peppered with marks by the time your impatience had grabbed hold, and it felt ethereal to finally beg, “Fuck me, Tommy.”

“Mm,” Tommy considered, kissing your hipbone softly and smelling your skin. “Not yet. I have some indulging to do.”

And indulge he did, taking his time on you as he graced all the spots that had fallen to neglect in his absence. He easily found the patch of skin below your hip that made every nerve swear, he hadn’t forgotten that dragging his lips along the ribs below your breasts made your toes curl; his hand softly rubbed circles onto your clit all the while. By the time his mouth was back on your inner thigh he had your hips pinned to the bed to stop their wriggling.

Obliging at long last, Tommy’s lips were silk on your pussy as he kissed you, the lightness of his brushes against you as eager with enthusiasm as they were gentle with reverence. Spreading your legs with his elbows, he held them open and steadily flicked your clit with his tongue, watching you with glinting eyes that were onyx with pupils.

Trying to contain yourself was a useless act, and you didn’t care if you woke up all of Small Heath, crying out as Tommy’s tongue inside of you made your hips arch from the bed. Sliding his hands beneath you to grip your ass, he refused to let you twist away and rose with your hips, holding you to his mouth.

Writhing with only your upper back against the mattress, your hips danced helplessly and Tommy easily followed, sucking at your clit and humming in appreciation until the vibration made you start to whine.

Shivers of pleasure lit your skin on fire and you bunched the sheets in your fists, his tongue ruthless against your increasingly sensitive clit. Easing you back down onto the mattress, he replaced his tongue with his fingers, rubbing skillful circles onto your clit softly.

“How long has it been, love?”

Heavy breathing was your only answer, no space for words between the increasing speed of your gasps, your muscles tightening around him.

“Too long, that’s right,” he smirked, hastening the pace of his fingers on your nerves. “Cum for me.”

If you had the breath you could have laughed at how good it felt, your body rippling as your world fuzzed around the edges. Tommy curved his fingers into your g-spot and stroked, the sight of you toppling over the edge making him voracious, his nails sinking into your thigh.

“Look at me,” he ordered, hoarse with desire.

Chin on your chest, you barely succeeded in keeping your eyes on his while you came onto him, your brows knitting deeply as your mouth fell open. Tommy watched you with a mix of unending adoration and unrefined lust, cooing to you as he coaxed out the last wisps of orgasm that had been waiting for him to do so for far too long.

Tommy finally dragged his eyes reluctantly from yours and exhaled sharply as he watched your pussy spasm around his soaked fingers. Leaning back against the pillows, you let the stars fade from your vision and waited for him, jerking slightly in sensitivity as he kissed up your wetness.

The taste of you on his tongue was something you’d missed, and you drank it in as he returned to you, your head rising from the pillow to meet him. Tommy caught you, cradling you close as he nipped at your lips, reaching down to slide his fingers in and out of you until you were whimpering again.

“My turn?” you asked, jutting your bottom lip out before biting it.

Tommy watched you darkly and growled, spinning your vision as he quickly took you up in his arms and lifted you off the bed to set you on your knees.

Smile spreading voraciously, you waited patiently for Tommy to straighten and step closer to you, your mouth falling open in unashamed wantonness at the sight of him.

Pulling at his legs hungrily you brought his cock to your mouth, teasing him as you ran your lips up and down the side of its length, staring up at him with doe eyes.

“I thought about this very often, you know,” you murmured into his skin, running over him.

“Is that so?” Tommy mocked mildly, watching you and twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. “Such a vivid imagination you have, dirty girl.”

Assenting with a hum, you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock until he groaned, gathering your hair in his hand. You savored him as he had savored you, relishing in every one of his shivers and low moans as you took the length of his cock into your throat over and over.

“Fuck,” Tommy swore, watching you work your mouth and your hands over him, his grip tightening in your hair as he began to push your head himself. “Just like that, love.”

With eyes to the ceiling, Tommy groaned deeply as he moved your mouth onto his cock roughly, the feeling of it making your pussy throb. You couldn’t help but touch your clit, whining around his length as you felt your own wetness. Tommy brought his attention back to you in a lustful haze, a devilish open-mouthed smirk on his face as he watched you.

Reflexive tears rolled onto your cheeks but you barely felt them, small prices to pay for the feeling of Tommy’s cock down your throat. You hummed in pleasure, your spine electric as you touched your clit, the taste of Tommy on your tongue. Just when your jaw began to stiffen did his breathing grow heavy, no traces of icy blue in his eyes as he grew closer to release.

But then he pulled you from him, allowing you a few gulps of air before bending down to kiss you deeply, his hands large on your face and words of love warm on his lips as he pulled you to stand.

Warmth spread through you as you threw your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms to wrap yourself around him, Tommy brought you both back to bed and held you in his lap, kissing you hard and breathing you in, insatiable.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you bit at Tommy’s neck as you sat on him and reached down to palm his cock, wet with your mouth’s work. A groan you realized was yours shook your chest as you felt the hard length of him in your hand, Tommy’s breath growing ragged again as you stroked him.

Tommy pulled you from his neck gently by your hair, grasping your head in his hands as he kissed you fervently, your moving lips inseparable by a pulling gravity. Pushing Tommy’s cock against your dripping entrance, you rubbed it against you until he moaned hotly into your mouth.

With a roll of his hips Tommy was suddenly inside you, hissing through his teeth as you moaned his name against his parting lips. Absence had tightened your pussy and you burned deliciously as Tommy took his time working his way in and out of you, each inch gained leaving you more breathless than the last. Tommy never stopped kissing you, his hands broad on your back as he eased you onto him completely, hushing your whimpers as you stretched for the size of him.

Stroking you strongly, Tommy rested his forehead on yours as he held you close, picking up his pace as he felt you relax around him, the long lost waves of pleasure rolling through your muscles. His words were hot in your ear and his cock was thick in your pussy as he fucked you until your eyes rolled and your nails left half-moons in his shoulders.

Soon the two of you were close, set to cum together with sweat-dewed skin and panting breath. Tommy’s gaze was searing and warm and home all at the same time, and you had no desire to look away.

While Tommy was gone every action had been an effort, every movement taking conscious thought to complete when your heart was miles away, in danger and alone. But thought was no longer privy to the world you two were now in, nothing but moans and aphorisms of love breaking the silence of night. Worries and horrors would never find you here, and Tommy was able to move without fear at long last, his hands never leaving your skin as he finally came home.

anonymous asked:

Hey hope this isn't too intrusive but can I ask what you did to invest in yourself? I have joined the local gym and actively trying to attend events where the type of people I want to meet/ be like attend, (I know you get a weekly facial and personal trainer) but what else did you do to improve to the person you are at now

  • I pursued financial stability, a change in finances will make your transformation easier
  • Pursued fitness, travel,spirituality and health
  • I try to surround myself in an area or create a lifestyle where I am continuously around the key things I enjoy the most. 
  • Embraced beauty & self-care. I’m uber feminine. I like to stay too busy getting my feet scrubbed or doing something that makes me feel sexy and luscious than joining in some online mob. My mentor encourages getting a weekly massage if you’re a young professional. I’ll get a massage then get my nails done. I notice many women in the developing world who ain’t as wealthy as we, make it a habit to go their local salon or spa often or take advantage of their natural resources. Only in the West to do we celebrate being too busy to take care of ourselves or practice relaxation. We wait until we go on holiday to do those things.

  • I learned how to do my makeup beautifully with guidance from professionals & YouTube. I still learn & I’m part of a Facebook group where we all share our looks :)

  • I enrolled in daunting and relentlessly deep courses, read research papers & books in a variety of fields

  • “Hung around people older than me, took notes” - Eazy E

  • As of recently, I became less wiling to disperse myself to others. Sometimes you gotta leave folks in the water, they’re not worth your time

  • My life is not easy, trust me I have issues right now, but my life is simple, smooth & tranquil cause that’s how I make it.

  • I’m resourceful which is the only way to be about shit, nobody goes into the desert with no water. When facing new territory, stack up! I save & stock up on resources,websites,podcasts. People hate using google though. it’s sad because the internet is a muhfuckin’ goldmine.
Winter: Endless Days

Part of “Tell me of an Eternity” { Autumn | Winter | Spring | Summer }


  • Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader
  • Genre: Angst, Immortal!Yoongi
  • Words: 12K
  • Description: Sometimes the most fleeting of moments are the ones that go on to last for an eternity.

Originally posted by kimseaokjin


You had heard about the immortal from a very young age.

They were one of the two kinds of people that existed in the world, living through their endless days as if it were no different from that of the mortal.

Born with an IQ lower than most children your age–a slow learner they had said- you had the benefit of doing something other mortal beings typically did not have the opportunity to do. And despite your mother’s insistence that you would grow up fine, your father was overly worried about you falling behind later in life if you didn’t get a head start or “special tutoring” as he had put it, which is how you ended up meeting a man named Min Yoongi when you were just 6 years old.  

At such an early stage in your life, you couldn’t see what was so special about the man, why your father had gone out of his way to strike a deal with this young professor of basically every subject under the sun, but you soon realized that his wide range of specialized knowledge was besides the point.

“He’s an immortal,” Your brother Seokjin had whisper in realization, while your parents were discussing the matter in the kitchen one night.

“What’s an enordal? You inquire, gripping on to the hem of his pants as he eavesdropped on their conversation.

“It’s immortal, you dummy, and they’re the people who never die.” He explains with a roll of his eyes.

“What’s die?”

He sighs heavily, shaking his head in defeat. “Ugh, I give up.”

Min Yoongi was a man who looked to be in his twenties, but was probably around five hundred years old in actuality. He stood at the entrance of the door, with his hair that was the deepest shade of ebony and age-less skin almost luminous against his dark colored clothes. You watched, head tilted in curiosity, as your parents greeted him at the front door, staring at the handsomely youthful man from the staircase of your house with furrowed brows and pouty lips.

Keep reading

There’s No Need to be Jealous Klaus

        Request: Hii can you do a Klaus imagine where the reader is hanging out with kol & Klaus gets jealous

Characters: Reader, Kol, Klaus, and Elijah

Warnings: Jealous and angry Klaus, insecurity, etc.           

You were currently in the Mikaelson mansion. You were sat on the couch flipping through a magazine when Kol flopped down beside you.

“I’m bored!” he exclaimed.

“What would you like me to do about it?” you inquired, continuing to casually flip through the magazine.

“Provide some entertainment so I don’t eat you out of boredom?”

“We both know that if you did eat me, you would end up back in your coffin and you’d still be bored so that isn’t even close to a solution,” I stated looking up at him calmly.

“You spend too much time with Nik and Elijah,” Kol huffed.

“Well, I am dating Nik and he trusts Elijah with me.”

“Can we please go to The Grill or something?” kol whined.

“Why do you need me to go?”

“Because I consider you to be a friend, and if I leave you home alone Nik will have my head.”

“Alright, we can go. Come along then,” you conceded and the two of you walked to The Grill. Once you entered, you two sat at the bar. Kol ordered something you didn’t know the name of and you just ordered a milkshake.

“This is much better,” Kol commented sipping his drink.

“You are such a child,” you chuckled.

“I am like over a thousand years older than you,” Kol pointed out.

“And you are still a child,” you teased taking a sip of your milkshake when it arrived.

“Says the girl dating Niklaus.”

“Which is how I know that you are a child, and so is Nik.”

“Fair enough.”

“Exactly,” you chuckled.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kol asked.

“Of course you can.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…why are you with my brother?”

“Not two hours alone and you’re already trying to steal my Y/N brother,” Klaus growled as he walked up behind Kol.

“Nik, calm down. He’s not flirting with me,” you tried to soothe your angry boyfriend.

“You’re taking his side?” Klaus challenged.

“I’m not taking sides Klaus, I’m just trying to..”

“Trying to tell me that you like my brother better, I get it,” Klaus snapped before speeding away.

“We should probably go and find him before he goes on a rampage,” kol sighed paying the bartender and leading you to find Klaus. You two tried the mansion first and walked inside to see Klaus throwing things around.

“Nik! Nik stop!” you yelled trying to go stand in front of him, but Kol grabbed you and held you back. This just made Nik angrier.

“LET Y/N GO!” Klaus demanded, his hybrid face showing.

“Calm down and I will. You could hurt our lovely Y/N,” Kol countered.

“I WOULD NEVER!”

“Not intentionally, but accidents happen and you would never forgive yourself and you’d leave to protect them and then you’d just be angry all the time and…”

“Enough, both of you!” Elijah ordered speeding into the room.

“STAY OUT OF IT ELIJAH!” Klaus ordered.

“Stay out of what? What’s even going on?”

“Kol is trying to steal Y/N from me,” Klaus spat.

“What on earth are you on about?” Elijah questioned.

“They were acting all chummy with each other and then Kol asked Y/N why they are dating me!”

“Kol?” Elijah demanded turning to Kol.

“I wasn’t flirting! I was asking more out of curiousity because they are such opposites and I wanted to be sure that they are actually in love because they’re so happy together and I don’t want either of them to get hurt!”

“You…you weren’t trying to..” Klaus sputtered, his face returning to normal.

“Even if he was, I would never…I love you Nik,” you said. Nik smiled and sped to stand in front of you.

“You love me?”

“Of course I do,” you admitted.

“I love you to, my love,” Klaus spoke softly before pulling you into a warm hug.

“I think I might go and vomit now,” Kol fake gagged.

“Shut up Kol,” you and Klaus spoke at the same time.

A/N: I hope you guys like it!!!!