yes i edited out the writing(

yknow what. it’s in the am hours. ive had at least 2 alcoholic beverages tonighit. and i have decided that once im out of tech school im gonna get a degree in ye olde literature just so i can write a groundbreaking paper about how cu chulainn (the actual myth one not the anime one) is a fucking trans icon. my guy is incredibly trans. lets just take a good look at the facts here folks

-these stories were written down by monks with an obviously christian agenda they edited the story to adhere to, in some parts more obviously so than others. considering the roman catholic hatred of trans people at the time, it would not be unreasonable to assume that if cu chulainn was in fact trans in the originals that were being written down said monks would attempt to cover that up by making him cis.

-dude changed his name which is a very trans™ thing 2 do obviously

-the whole thing with the curse and how he was the only one ready to throw the fuck down while all the other men were in bed with the pains of birth like this is such a classic example of using gendered language in magic shenanigans to ur advantage

-often described as being small & beardless “this is supposed to show he’s young” but is it really??? it’s not uncommon for masculine women to be mistaken for young men and him being both notably small and unable to grow a beard is brought up several times in text. either way it’s not like being young and being trans are mutually exclusive. really makes you think.

-alright here’s the big kicker that really says Cu Chulainn Is Trans 2 me in big shiny letters: he had to prove himself as Really Being That Tough over & over again to a frankly ridiculous degree. multiple times (at least 2 in the tain bo cuailnge that i can remember rn) there’s some enemy fuck who knows god damn well the one in front of them is cu mother fucking chulainn who has been absolutely obliterating his enemies by the hundreds but the moment they see him & notice he’s beardless (again, this is usually interpreted as meaning he’s young but that doesn’t necessarily have to be the case) they’re like “nah I’m not fighting that get me a real enemy” and cu has to put on a fake beard to convince them he really is A Big Tough Dude Who Can Kick Your Ass. another time in the tain cu used his sick sword skills to make a fool of someone who was mocking him and the fucking idiot didn’t stop even after cu literally shaved the guys head clear & cut off his clothes with a sword. there’s one story (called bricriu’s feast) of a competition where cu easily beat everyone by a wide margin in everything they compete in but none of the other contestants wanted to accept the result so they kept bringing in other judges trying to get someone other than cu to be declared winner. 

there’s this really weird refusal of people in the ulster cycle to accept that cu chulainn is as good at things as he is (specifically things considered masculine like fighting) and idk about all yall but that really fucking screams good old fashioned transphobia to me lads. like trans folks are still dealing with this shit in modern day with athletes not being allowed to compete with their own fucking gender bc it ~wouldnt be fair~ or other such nonsense. this fuck shit with ppl absolutely refusing to acknowledge cu as possibly being good at Man Things is incredibly Trans Relatable™.

-ALSO i just remembered this but there’s also at least one and i’m pretty sure more than one time where cu talks to people who are like “yea we’re trying to hunt down cu chulainn” and they don’t realise he is in fact that very same cu chulainn or are even remotely suspicious of him which would make a lot more sense if they mistook him for a woman

in conclusion: hes trans

2

☆️Aesthetic Meme☆ [6/7 AU]

Stucky Coffeeshop AU where Buck is a vet (obsessed with black coffee and his bike) that runs into Steve at Steve’s favorite coffee shop to sit and think and draw between his classes. Buck says he only keeps going back to the place because the coffee is good but we all know different.
Write-O-Ween Prompts: Unusual and Rare Words Edition

As practice for the famous NANOWRIMO, a prompts list of unusual and rare words! I’ll try writing them: will you?

  1. Uncanny: strange or mysterious, especially in an unsettling way
  2. Chimerical: merely imaginary; fanciful
  3. Susurrus: a whispering or rustling sound
  4. Aubade: a song greeting the dawn
  5. Ephemeral: lasting a very short time
  6. Sempiternal: everlasting; eternal
  7. Euphonious: pleasing; sweet in sound
  8. Billet-doux: a love letter
  9. Pluviophile: any organism that thrives in conditions of heavy rainfall; one who loves rain, a rain-lover
  10. Redamancy: act of loving in return
  11. Lachesism: the desire to be struck by disaster; to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire
  12. Rubatosis: the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat
  13. Nodus Tollens: the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore
  14. Opia: the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable
  15. Monachopsis: the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place
  16. Énouement: the bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self
  17. Skulduggery: devious behavior
  18. Tatterdemalion: raggedly dressed person; looking disreputable or decayed
  19. Athazagoraphobia: the feeling of being forgotten, ignored, or replaced
  20. Oblivion: the state of being completely forgotten or unknown; connotes feelings of isolation and aloofness, which lead to the annihilation or extinction of the self metaphorically
  21. Abditory:  a hiding, safe place to disappear 
  22. Hiraeth: the homesickness for a home you can never return to; a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
  23. Fernweh: the ache for distant places; the craving for travel
  24. Sonder: the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own
  25. Kenopsia: the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet
  26. Kuebiko: a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence
  27. Quiddity: the essence or inherent nature of a person or thing / an eccentricity; an odd feature / a trifle; a nicety or quibble
  28. Wayfarer: a traveler, especially on foot
  29. Nepenthe: a medicine for sorrow; a place, person or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering
  30. Gloaming: defined as twilight and dusk; the day’s end, the glittery, transient echo when time and nature meet
  31. Eunoia: literally meaning “beautiful thinking” / FREE SPACE
Caffeine Challenge 10 June 2017

The ship cuts an elegant path through the asteroid field until, abruptly, an asteroid cuts an elegant path through it.

This is unusual for two reasons, Lorena thinks absently: 1) the actual density of asteroids in an asteroid field is much, much smaller than your average person thinks, and 2) asteroids don’t generally do “elegant”. Outside the ship, when they’re hurtling through the void at hundreds of thousands of miles per hour and still managing to look like they’re doing it slowly and majestically, yes. Inside the ship, no. But the fact of the thing can’t be denied: an unidentified asteroid has just shown up in the middle of the ship. The scanner says it’s still in the ship, too, sitting in an unused cargo hold.

Lorena gets up from her desk chair, shuts off the scanner, and starts to put on her space suit. This is too weird to be ignored, and plus, if the asteroid had really cut through the ship like that, there’s going to be issues. Of course, there are safety measures in place in case of leaks, but a hole that big opened straight onto the vacuum of space is bound to cause some issues. Luckily, the scanner wasn’t showing any loss of life, so that shouldn’t be a problem. At least, not yet.

Spacesuit on, Lorena grabs her tool box and heads for the air lock nearest the crash site. Strange, too, she thinks, that she didn’t feel anything when the asteroid hit. She’d have thought she’d feel a jolt when the ship took the force of a crash that big.

She’s getting weird looks as she walks through the ship in her space suit. This part of the ship, the only people she’s passing are maintenance people and engineers like herself, and they all know that there isn’t any external maintenance scheduled, and that if there was, she wouldn’t be the one doing it. Ah well. Let them look. She considers grabbing a maintenance person for backup, but decides against it. Better to figure out what the problem is before asking someone to solve it.

When she reaches the air lock, Lorena puts her helmet on and clips her tether to the ring inside, then presses the button to open the external doors. The air lock is closed, thank God. Sometimes people like to leave the air locks inside the ship open for convenience, but someone must have put safety before convenience for once. She makes a mental note to find that person when she finishes here; they may have saved the lives of the entire ship.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. The air lock doors open.

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Pink Floyd

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

A/N: I’M BACK… and so soon as well. Enjoy, beautiful (yes, I’m talking to you).

Request:  Hi honey ! <3 I was wondering if you could write an imagine, where Jughead always sees a little girl in Pop’s, she eats ice cream or drink milkshakes after school, and she is really talkatvive, annoys him a lot, but she reminds him so much of Jellybean so he never was mean to her, only in playful way, and when he find out, that she has a cute older sister at his age (reader) he likes her even more ? ^^

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: None

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PSA: Hey Freelancers! Do you have your business license?

So as y’all know I got a new job, and during the setup for payroll etc etc for this company that I’m freelancing for, I learned that many places require freelancers to have small business licenses. The specifics would vary based on your area/country, but just a heads up because I know there are a tonne of freelancers here that may not know this!

Please see clarification edit, here:
http://kamidoodles.tumblr.com/post/158457601865/psa-hey-freelancers-do-you-have-your-business

You also – at least for the US – may need to file for something known as a DBA: “doing business as” if you use any moniker that doesn’t include your legal name (like I do).

And yes, there are fees for these things, unfortunately! But you can also incur fines if you don’t have these things (especially during tax season), so do your research!

This post is a very California, US centric post, since that is where I am based, but I encourage everyone to check out whether or not you need a license to freelance! This includes art, writing, editing and so on.

Pass it on!

Kind of an epiphany I had in the emotional wake of T.AZ 68, bear with me.

Art that resonates and MEANS something is not the work of a moment. Sometimes, yes, impromptu moments of creative genius add to the overall masterpiece (Justin McElroy in T.AZ 66, for instance), but nobody sits down and creates their opus in one go, with no editing or review necessary. Griffin McElroy didn’t go into the Balance arc with self-admitted little experience in fiction writing and pound it all out in one go. He took time, and effort, and hours and hours of planning, and given the interactive nature of the medium, it took the inclusion of the rest of the Family McElroy to really give the story the heart and zing it needed. But it didn’t happen at once. It didn’t become something that makes devoted listeners weep in public and almost get hit by cars in one or two sessions. It took time. It took real time.

This is not a profound epiphany, but as a writer who struggles with creative perfectionism and procrastination and has for over a decade, this is something I, a “smart kid” growing up who got good grades effortlessly and didn’t pursue anything I wasn’t good at the first time I tried it, am still learning. I was incredulous, when Griffin said this was his first foray into fiction. I was almost outraged. Keeping in mind this is my first encounter with McElroy work, I was floored by the fact that a person who hadn’t done it before was already much better than me at the fiction game. And it’s a familiar train of thought that only leads down: so many people are so much better at this than me. I have nothing good to offer narratively. Everything I write is trite garbage. I wasted my years and money and time on a degree I can’t use for something I thought I was good at, but I’m not.

And, like, pardon my French, but

Fuck that shit.

The creative process is a PROCESS, implying steps and time and effort and metamorphosis. Eggs don’t drop from the chicken-womb and hatch as fully-formed chickens, they have to grow, and develop, and that’s just before they hatch. After hatching is a whole ‘nuther mother and this metaphor is getting away from me, but the bottom line is: art takes time. Art takes effort. Art takes metamorphosis, progressing from one stage to another in the piece’s growth as well as your own. Coming from someone with the gorgeous anxiety/depression cocktail I have, with student debt and a job unrelated to my field and living at home at 25, this is an important message to all artists: it’s okay to take it easy on yourself. It’s okay to create garbage. It’s okay to not be satisfied, and to try again, but it is NOT okay to stop. It isn’t okay to hang your head and decide your voice doesn’t matter. It IS NOT OKAY to stifle your artistic growth because you don’t think you’re good enough or worth it, or that because you didn’t get it right the first time, you aren’t good at it. This is as much an open letter to myself as it is to you. I am absolutely my harshest critic, and I am not fair to myself, and I haven’t let myself make the mistakes I need to make in order to grow. I’ve been afraid. I’ve been frustrated. I’ve been ambivalent.

I want to make the kind of art that gives people goosebumps and makes them cry. I want to make art that resonates, that sticks with people in the darkest times. I want to make a living thing, something that breathes and grows. And in order to do that, I have to put in the work. I have to make the effort. I have to stop being so hard on myself, and let nature take its course until I am the most beautiful creatively-fulfilled tasty chicken I never thought I could be.

So thanks, Griffin McElroy and co. Thanks JK Rowling, and Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko, and Bill Watterson, and Hiro Mashima, and Walt Disney Studios, and Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, and Hayao Miyazaki, and Rebecca Sugar, and hordes of other creative-types who have inspired me and continue to inspire.  Thanks so much for making stuff that makes me cry and want to be a better person as well as a better artist.

Thanks

don’t ask me to say that i don’t love you

The flaw in “Force Yourself To Write” and “Don’t Force Yourself To Write” Advice

Y’all these guides are becoming more and more frequent wth

Alright so many writing posts here on Tumblr usually have contradictions that can make anyone’s head spin honestly. So let me tell you about something I realized today.

I have a fic that I’ve been working on and off on the past year. Like July marks exactly a year since the idea came to life. Now for a fanfic, it’s really long. About 10k words a chapter (my choice so boohoo for me really).

Now then, with Tumblr, I read the “Don’t Force Yourself to Write or else it’ll be nasty and you won’t be able to unstuck yourself later and it won’t be good” advice. And I believed in that, because I was iffy about the “Never Stop Writing!! Even as you’re giving birth or performing heart surgery!!!!”

Originally posted by okyanusunintihari

That was like kicking myself in the metaphorical balls (or elbowing anywho)

I conditioned my mind into thinking that that was a valid excuse not to write. I hid my laziness behind that “advice” and I barely touched that piece (which I hold dear to my heart) for an entire year.

Now today as I was filming some vlogs, I forced myself to write for “content”. I thought, eh I can write a few scenes, sort some things out and edit a bit.

And I realized that, even if I force myself to write, I’m still closer to finishing this than I was before? Like Chapter 2 remained barely touched until today, now I have 2 little scenes left to complete and it’s done. And honestly? Maybe tomorrow I’ll see that it’s terribly written, but I rather work with some foundations for a scene that starting from scratch.

And I’m pissed at myself that I followed that rule to the T.

Yes, don’t force yourself to write when you’re not feeling it, but don’t use it as an excuse just because you’re lazy or you’re trying to hide a mental block. Write a paragraph, or a sentence, and see where it goes from there. If you feel a flow, go ahead, if you don’t, don’t sweat it.

Stop making Tumblr advice make you feel guilty for doing things your way, and don’t let it control your life or transform your hobbies to hard labor.

Wedding Dress

Summary: Usually missions as a Kingsman Agent didn’t involve wedding dresses.

Word Count: 1k

Warning: Not edited(yet!) Swearing, but then again, it’s Eggsy

Note: As of this day, October 12th, 2017 I have 199 followers. I really do want to say thank you to everyone who decided to follow this stupid ass person. I do apologize for this being a Kingsman imagine after 4 days of not writing. 

Eggsy x reader


“Is everything set and ready to go?” You asked nervously, trying not to rub stress out too much. “Yes, only thing missing is..” She went down the list on the clipboard as you checked yourself in the mirror. “Crap.” You heard her mutter.

“Crap?” You turned around worried about what could possibly go wrong on the day you’re marrying the love of your life. Roxy was furiously shaking her head towards the door and making an x with her arms. When she noticed you looking at her, she gave you a nervous smile and a thumbs up.

You walked over to see what she was on about and there stood the groom. He looked at you up and down taking in how beautiful you were in your wedding dress and was left speechless.

“Eggsy, what are you doing here, two hours before I’m actually supposed to see you?” You crossed your arms and waited for an excuse to come out Eggsy’s mouth and tried to hold back the smile creeping on your face.

“Love, you look absolutely beautiful.” You smiled and look downwards. Even when you were marrying him soon, he could still make you blush. You remembered what you were going to ask and crossed your arms looking back at Eggsy.

“What happened?” You asked. Eggsy had a habit of doing certain things when he was nervous or was planning something dangerous, they were all small things only a person who was close to him would notice.

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Prescription Sleep Meds for Fibro/CFS?

Doctor appointment next week.  Flexeril doesn’t work and Marijuana gives me anxiety.  (And I’m in Oregon so I don’t need a script for it anyway.)

And PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD ONLY REPLY WITH ACTUAL PRESCRIPTION MEDS. 


Don’t make this another, how do I keep my glasses clean without getting up post, where 1/3 of the people basically responded “get up and go to the sink.”

I WILL sit and mock you with Admin E. 

Thank you!

Admin J

(I think I’m just going to edit this with what does and doesn’t work for me as things are suggested rather than try to comment individually.  Also so I can just pull up this one post if I forget to write all this down before I go in.  I’m freakin’ wiped out. )

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ok, so real quick, just a few things: this is my own personal opinion and about my own preferences. We all like different things. So if you like k/l, great! I fully support that. And there are definitely plenty of people who are multishippers and love both k/l and s/k or ship s/k/l. But I mean, the short answer is…you won’t find any k/l on this blog. (I’m also using a screenshot of your ask so this doesn’t appear when you search k/l, because I feel that wouldn’t be fair to fans)

anyway, long answer: 

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March 31, 1997 - 20 years ago Dylan began his journal

<<-VoDkA->>
3-31-97
Life existence

EL THOUGHTZO’S

AH yes, this is me writing… just writing, nobody technically did anything, just i felt like throwing out my thoughts - this is a wierd time, wierd life, wierd existence. As i sit here (partially drunk w. a screwdriver) i think a lot. Think… Think… that’s all my life is, just shitloads of thinking… all the time… my mind never stops… music runs 24/7 (xpt for sleep), just songs i hear, not necessarily good or bad, & thinking… about the asshole [edited] in Gym class, how he worries me, about driving, & my family, about friends & doings with them, about girls i kno (mainly [edited] & [edited]), how i kno i can never have them, yet i can still dream… I do shit to supposedly ‘cleanse’ myself in a spiritual, moral sort of way (deleting the 'limits’ on my comp, not getting drunk for periods of time, trying not to ridicule/make fun of people ([edited]) at school, yet it does nothing to help my life - moraly. My existence is shit. To me - how i feel that i am in eternal suffering. in infinite directions in infinite realities - yet these [Dylan scribble] realities are fake- artificial, induced by thought, how everything connects, yet it’s all so far apart…. & i sit & think… Science is the way to find solutions to everything, right? I still think that, yet i see different views of shit now like the mind - yet if the mind is viewed scientifically… HMM I dwell in the past… thinking of good & bad movies

a lot on the past though… ive always had a thing for the past - how it reacts to the present & the future - or rather vice versa. I wonder how/when i got so fucked up… my mind, existence, problem - when Dylan Benet Klebold got covered up by this entity containing Dylan’s body… as i see the people at school - some good, some bad - I see how different i am (aren’t we all you’ll say) yet i’m on such a greater scale of difference (as far as I kno, or guess) I see jocks having fun, friends, woman, LIVEZ
[two drawn arrows pointing down to the text below]
or rather shallow existences compared to mine (maybe). Like ignorance = bliss - they don’t know this world (how I do in my mind or in reality, or in this existence) yet we each are lacking something that the other possesses – i lack the true human nature that Dylan owned, & they lack the overdeveloped mind/ imagination/ knowledge tool I don’t sit in here thinking of suicide gives me hope, that i’ll be in my place wherever I go after this life. that ill finally not be at war w. myself, the world, the universe - my mind, body, everywhere, everything at PEACE… me- my soul (existence). & the rotine - is still monotonous, go to school, be scared & nervous, somewhat hoping that people can accept me… that i can accept them… the NIN song Piggy is good for thought writing… The lost Highway sounds like a movie about me… im gonna write later, bye - <<-VoDkA->>

anonymous asked:

I was wondering if you could write a little something about George sneaking out if his room to sleep with you because you have to stay in Ginny's room but he doesn't wake up in time to leave so he gets caught in the morning. I just think it would be so cute

YES OF COURSE :D sorry this is so late and thank you for being patient with me. work has been insane and i’ve been editing/writing my book and my fanfic and i’m also applying for other jobs which is just insanity bUT I NEED MY ONE SHOTS so here we go :)

Originally posted by my-harry-potter-generation

george weasley x reader
_______________________________________________________________________

   “G’night,” you called out to everyone still in the cozy, dimly lit family room of the Burrow. Ginny was a step in front of you on the stairs, and she did the same.
   “See you in the morning, dears,” Mrs. Weasley smiled sweetly, though her eyes were masked with exhaustion. The smell of the freshly baked lemon meringue pie was still wafting throughout the house. The fire was faintly crackling in the background and you heard the wind howl outside. You felt an arm around your shoulders and smiled to yourself. “’Night, mum,” George called.
   “G’night, darlings,” Mrs. Weasley called again as she began to fold away the kitchen towels. You, Ginny, George, and Fred headed up the stairs, leaving Harry and Ron near the fireplace, playing an intensifying game of exploding snap.
   You were finally near your rooms and you heard an obnoxious sort of yawn. “G’night, Y/N, Gin,” Fred said and clumsily fell into you. Another yawn, and an eye roll form Ginny. “See you!”
   Ginny slowly raised a hand to both of her brothers and waltzed into her room, gesturing for you to take your time getting ready for sleep. You turned back towards George who looked like he wanted to do anything else but head to bed. “Tired, love?”
   “Yes,” he admited, albeit it begrudgingly. “But I hate not being able to spend the night with you.”
   You laughed and placed a hand on his arm. “I know. But your mum, and mine, would probably kill us both before we even had a chance to explain ourselves.” You brought your hand to his cheek. “Morning will come quickly, I promise.”
   He sighed and nodded at you. “You do know how difficult it is for me to leave you and walk into my room right now, right?”
   “Just as difficult for me, dear,” you replied, and stood up on your tiptoes to press your lips lightly to his. He wrapped his arms around you quite tightly, and you knew he didn’t want to let go. Neither did you. But eventually, albeit sadly, you both did. “See you in the morning.”
   “In the morning, my love,” he said before kissing your forehead. He ran his fingers through your hair once more before heading towards his bedroom, and flashed a sleepy smile at you before you rounded the corner and waltzed into Ginny’s.

A few hours later
   
You were awoken by a small noise at what must’ve been the middle of the night, because it was still black outside. Groggily, you yawned and tried to fixate your eyes on anything in the darkness. You heard a bump, and then, “Ouch! Damnit, Ginny and her freaking Quidditch stuff,”
   “George?” you whispered as you felt a body slide into the bed next to you.
   He placed a kiss on your cheek. “Hiya, darling.” You could practically feel the smirk he was giving you.
   “Merlin’s beard…what are you doing in here? Your mum is going to kill you, she’s actually going to kill you dead.” You asked quite seriously, but you were grinning from ear to ear. George obviously sensed it, because he laughed and poked you in the side. You squirmed next to him.
   “I just couldn’t bear to lie down without you any longer.”
   You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. “You do realize your sister is in here, yes? Sound asleep across the other end,”
   George shrugged. “There’s nine of us in this family; this isn’t the first and certainly won’t be the last time I’ll have shared a room with her,” he told you.
   “If we get caught–”
   He pressed his finger to your lips. “Shh–just for a little while, I’ll leave before the sun comes up–can we just…can I just lie with you a moment?”
   You could feel your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest and couldn’t help but let your body relax in his arms. You felt him relax, too. “Of course.” You easily fit right into the crevices of his body, your head nuzzled into his shoulder and legs entangled together. You pulled the blanket around you both and closed your eyes again.

Morning
   
Your eyes opened with a flutter, and you took in the ray of sunshine flooding in through Ginny’s open window. You were about to get up and stretch when you felt a body move slightly next to you. You froze and turned over, whispering George’s name quickly and as loudly as you possibly could without awakening Ginny.
   “George, George! For Merlin’s sake, wake up, would you? It’s morning!”
   “What?” he asked with a sleepy voice and tired eyes. He yawned and pulled you closer to him. “Just five more minutes and then we’ll get ready for class,”
   You rolled you eyes and shook him again. “We’re not at school, you loon! We’re in your house, where your parents are sitting just right downstairs drinking their morning tea!” This clearly got his attention. He shot up, eyes bloodshot and hair askew. He jumped up out of bed, kissed you sweetly and quickly, and made his way to the door as quietly and as stealthily as he could. You closed your eyes once again when you heard, “George? What’re you doing in Ginny’s room?” Oh, dear god.
   “Oh, uh…” you heard George stammer. Damnit, George, think of something, quickly! “I woke up and went to see if Y/N was up, too, but she–she isn’t, yet, so I’m going to let her sleep longer,”
   Mrs. Weasley was silent for a moment, obviously pondering this response of his, when she finally said, “Alright–well, that was sweet of you–d’you want some tea or would you like to wait for–”
   “Georgie,” you heard Fred and your heart nearly stopped. “How’d it go? Did you frighten Y/N when you snuck into bed with–” he stopped abruptly and had obviously come face to face with his twin and Mrs. Weasley.
   You heard a bit of fumbling, a little laughter and a scoff, and then you heard Mrs. Weasley say, a bit loudly, “You better run, boy!” Then there was a bit of the pattering of feet down the stairs, and silence.
   Your heart was racing but you kept your eyes shut, hoping Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t waltz into Ginny’s room, as well. You heard footsteps make their way up the steps again and you braced yourself, eyes shut tight.
   But it was just George. “No worries, you’re in the clear, told her ‘twas all me–I may be getting a beating, though–” he told you breathlessly and kissed you once more. “Totally worth it, by the way,” he winked and slipped out of the room again, Mrs. Weasley chasing him around the Burrow.
   Across the room, Ginny moved slightly in her bed. How she was sleeping through all of this was beyond you. She opened her eyes and stretched. “Morning, Y/N,” she said brightly and smiled. “I miss anything?”
   You thought about mentioning George sneaking in, lying in bed with you, not leaving soon enough and being caught because Fred had to open his big mouth. But you figured the chasing throughout the house would explain itself, so instead, you settled for, “Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a normal morning at the Burrow,”
   You swore in the distance you heard a faint, “George Weasley, get back here!” and a maniacal laugh.

HAHAH i hope you liked this! this was super fun to write. i loved it, and i hope you do, too. :) HAPPY ONESHOT, EVERYBODY

You know those fandom friend chats that go in a direction you didn’t anticipate? Here’s how one that inspired my silly edits of these photos actually sort of went:

  • Someone: Ben’s eyes! You know they are begging for eyeliner!
  • Everyone Else: Ashoidflskhehikgtlkkkkk [screaming continues]
  • Another Someone: Did you see the pic with Martin’s purple eyes? He needs eyeliner too!
  • Everyone Else: dead dead dead [more screaming by all]
  • Someone Else: Wait. What if those purple-lined eyes are because John Watson was a mage? Magic au!!!
  • Everyone Else: OMGOMGOMGOMG YES! [so very much screaming]
  • Yet Another Someone: So Sherlock does magic too!! But no robes… THEY’RE IN SUITS!
  • Everyone Else: SUIT PORN AND EYELINER AND A MAGIC AU GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! [people literally gasping out loud]
  • Me: Hmmmm. I could make an edit of this. [evil laughing]

Annnnnnndddddd, that’s how these happened 

Sorry not sorry. I love this fandom and the friends I’ve made here! @missmuffin221 @loveinthemindpalace @consultingpacha @morgendaemmerung89 @simpleanddestructivechemistry @221booksinthetardis @mylastvow @my-sun-my-baelish @love-in-mind-palace

2 in the Afternoon-Auston Matthews

Anonymous: Oh my god can you do another Auston Matthews smut?? Maybe where his gf is from Toronto and comes to visit him in Arizona over the summer after being apart for like a month or something?? 

Here you go! Hopefully you like it, I enjoyed writing it. I’ve been watching the Penguins game while editing it, so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. 

Requested: Yes | No

Word Count: 2790

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, mentioned start of phone sex, slight dirty talk if you squint.

——————————– 

“It’s about who you miss at 2 in the afternoon when you’re busy, not at 2 in the morning when you’re lonely.”

Growing up a hockey fan in Toronto was hard. My dad constantly cursing out the tv when there was a bad play or when the Leafs lost. It was like the city was losing hope and going into a downward spiral. Seats were empty, the team was tired.

It wasn’t until 2016 when the Leafs won the first draft spot in the lottery, with the idea that we would finally have found hope in the top draft prospect, Auston Matthews. After having drafted Mitchell Marner in 2015 and William Nylander in 2014, two other hockey hopefuls, we’d finally be getting a third, creating the ideal trifecta young players. Sure there was still great players currently, but we’ve been stuck in such a rut, and these guys are our hope.

Keep reading

Hey, Scully! Look at this.”