yes-yes-u-can

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hey @eightmonkeys , y’know that au where laurens lives??? i can totally dig that :^^)))

neil and andrew’s first kiss is so important

it’s andrew giving in to an impulse he’s been fighting off because he knows deep down kissing neil would not be anything like kissing roland. because he cares about neil and he hates it but he knows that there’s no turning back now

it’s neil figuring out that he really does want this but still unsure if it’s worth the risk

it’s andrew saying ‘tell me no’ and neil not saying anything because he’s kind of in the middle of a crisis and he wants to kiss andrew, he doesn’t want to say ‘no’ but he can’t say ‘yes’ yet either

and it’s andrew pushing neil away even though he doesn’t tell him ‘no’ because he didn’t say ‘yes’ either and he knows that even if he had neil isn’t in any state of mind to be able to give consent

that kiss on the roof is the start of everything and andrew is terrified of falling but he’s really too late to stop it 

Autumn ride together 🍂 Where are they going? 🍁

SLAVIC TIME: SANDWICH
  • Belarusian: сэндвіч (sendvič)
  • Bosnian: sendvič
  • Bulgarian: сандвич (sandvich)
  • Croatian: sendvič
  • Czech: sendvič
  • Macedonian: сендвич (sendvič)
  • Russian: сэндвич (sendvich)
  • Serbian: сендвич (sendvič)
  • Slovak: sendvič
  • Slovenian: sendvič
  • Ukrainian: сендвіч (sendvich)
  • Polish: Well, this is awkward...
  • Czech: Oh, really... No, Polish. DO NOT.
  • Polish: O U O
  • Polish: KANAPKA
  • Rest of family: ... WHAT THE ACTUAL FRICK.

oh my god do not refer to yuuri katsuki as “Jap Yuri.” 

“jap” is a slur.

It was commonly used in WWII-era United States (and probably its English-speaking allies).  Its use went hand-in-hand with the persecution and internment of Japanese-American immigrants AND natural-born citizens as spies, traitors, criminals, etc.  Please look up “japanese internment” if you want to read more.

the proper abbreviation for Japan/Japanese is jpn.

and besides, there’s already a way to differentiate between the two:

yuuri katsuki = yuuri

yuri plisetsky = yurio

tldr: “jap” is a slur so don’t use it for yuuri katsuki or in any other situation if you can’t reclaim it thanks

Never mind all these beautiful historical dramas I want a modern day sit com about the Romantic poets like

  • Byron, Shelley, and Keats are roommates.
  • Byron is constantly a dick and Keats is constantly like “fight me” and Shelley is constantly exasperated. 
  • “I swear to God, George, if you even think about fighting him-”
    “Well he asked me to.” 
    “He’s also five feet tall.” 
  • Felicia Hemans lives across the hall from them and everyone thinks she’s really sweet because she bakes a lot and dresses conservatively but she is constantly lowkey throwing shade at everyone. 
  • Byron hates her because she’s better than him at everything. 
  • Mary Wollstonecraft also lives in their building and owns a lot of t-shirts with feminist slogans on. 
  • Every time she bumps into Shelley in the hallway he asks whether her daughter is coming to visit any time soon. He is much less subtle about it than he thinks he is. 
  • Byron frequently gets into flame wars with people on the internet. 
  • “George it’s 3am why are you still awake?” 
    Someone was talking shit about Pope.”
    “Not again.” 
  • At this point, Keats and Shelley have a script they can run through every time they open the door to a crying person asking why Byron never called them back. 
  • A running joke in which there is a loud noise every time someone says Shelley’s middle name correctly. 
  • Another running joke in which Byron and his sister constantly get mistaken for a couple. 

Things that make me weak in my knees:

- Percival and Theseus. Not just pen pals, not just formidable coworkers exchanging letters from one shore of Atlantic to the other, but friends, in the highest sense of the word - friends forged in War and trenches and rain and blood dripping down necks slick with sweat. The kind of friends you can not see for nine years and when you do it’s like not a day has passed, the kind of friends who hugs you when you’re chocking on homesickness and shushes you like a mother would, and yes, the kind you sometimes slips in a cot with to hold on through the freezing France nights and press closer and closer until it’s just skin and dust-tasting lips and his hands searching yours as he pushes down, young hearts hammering like exploding grenades because I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna i won’t let you die.

- Percival looking all classy and polished, when they’re still off the front and spending evenings bragging around French clubs in their brand-new suits - imagine a younger Graves, still unrefined around the edges, raven-black hair, a lock perpetually falling on his eye, the uniform in pristine order and a modest elegance you just can’t fake - while Theseus is all laughs and curses and songs and perpetually in disarray, from the mop of auburn hair to the collar he never learnt to make. They’re a study in contrast, the Yankee dandy and the Brit oaf. Appearances can be tricky, though. Because actually it’s Theseus the more straight-forward, the brash, combat-minded Gryffindor, made to make plans on a chart and guide man and get into fights and get into beds; and Percival is the pensive Horned Serpent, quiet and observing and still feeling too old for his body, curling up on his cot at the training camp with his pile of books. There’s a lot of books around Percival Graves - Theseus learns it the hard way, finding his bed surrounded with neat stacks of volumes and having to resort to phisically beg him to sneak out and do something, anything Percival - and Magical Criminology of Goblin Organizations, really? Is this even a real subject? 

But the world is enamoured with the dandy and the oaf, and oh, how they like to encourage it. Percival purposefully making his movements languid when lifting his glass of brandy at the bar, putting on cufflinks carved in jade and painting cat-like smiles on his face; Theseus exaggerating his clumsy stumbling and hiding the fierce intelligence of his green-grey eyes behind his bushy beard. 

If only they know their New York dandy is the fusspot mother lamenting I don’t fold my socks the right way.

Would you shut the fuck up, Scamander.

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