you wish you were my fruit

I’ll Be Good - Part 1

Masterlist  -  Series Masterlist  -  Part 2

Summary: You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Soldier on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op.

Warnings: swearing (honestly shocked I haven’t sworn already), mild violence

Word count: 1700 (is it lucky that my first post is 1700 even?!)

Author’s Note: I have had a spectacularly awful day and have decided that I might as well let my b.barnes tumblr go down with the ship. So I’m posting my first ever attempt at a fic. I have written 3 parts and stared at them with trepidation for a week. Pt 3 is my fav., so I’ll post at least that much unless you all tell me there are enough self-indulgent non-writers out there and I need to stop now.

Tags: is this a joke? why the hell do I even have a tags section? I can’t believe I’m doing this…
@marvelatmytrash because you’re a lovely human being an Imma need your encouragement (or to gently put me out of my misery)
@thedragonblood because you once posted for your followers to tag you and I’m sorry, be careful what you wish for.

Here goes…

This was a pretty simple mission. The interrogation last week had been fruitful and the small team were now en route to the drop off site. It was an illegal weapons trade, their goal was to stop it and capture the leaders. They had the most adept team available and it should have been simple – Clint was pilot and as usual the tactical eyes in the field. Bucky and Nat would take out the security, clearing a path for Steve to apprehend the organizers. Routine.

They landed in a heavily wooded area a mile from the site of the deal. The four of them left the jet and started making their way in when a long-range shot skimmed a nearby tree. As the team ducked for cover, Natasha examined the fresh wound on her left arm just inches above a very similar scar she had obtained a few years earlier. “Shit,” she mumbled thinking If that was Y/N, that was a warning shot, and Y/N won’t be so generous with the rest of my team.

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Today is the first day of Spring, which means it’s Ostara!! 🌸💐🌷🐰✨

We all know that Easter marks the day that Christ was resurrected and joined His Father in Heaven. Im sure most of us have wondered why eggs and bunnies are relevant to Jesus dying on the cross, and lucky for you I’m going to tell you what it has to do with Jesus and Easter.


Ostara, ( oh-STAR-uh) which is also called Lady Day, is a Pagan celebration of Spring! It happens every year on the Spring equinox, which is usually March 21 but this year it happens to be today!

Eostra is the Saxon goddess of spring and fertility, and when Christian missionaries were converting Pagans, they found out that Ostara and the resurrection of Christ happened around the same time. The christians adapted the word “Easter” and some of the Pagan traditions, like….

The Easter bunny! Bunnies are a symbol of fertility; Eostra could almost always been seen with a rabbit, which are known for reproducing. The same concept applies to baby chicks, who break out of shells all wet and wobbly, but are adorable fluff balls a few hours later. Animals are sacred to goddesses of Spring and were often honored around the Spring Equinox.

Eggs are also a symbol of fertility, and it’s believed that if one eats a hard boiled egg just before sunrise on Ostara, you will be healthy and fruitful for the following year! Traditionally eggs would also be decorated and given as gifts, as wishings in abundance in food and prosperity. As Pagan traditions, beliefs, life and culture were shunned and assimilated, the practice was transformed into hiding eggs for young children.

So there ya have it, yet another celebration poached by a religion who wished they were as cool are the Pagans 😉 🐸☕️

Happy Ostara my loves!!! May Eostra bless you with happiness, wealth, and love! So mote it be! ✨🌸🐰🌷🌈💐🌻☀️🥚🎀✨

anonymous asked:

The last fic you posted with Percy and Vax fucked me up! It was so good and was everything I didn't know I needed. Loved it! I now want to know what each of the other characters experiences would be like. <3

Thank you, anon! <3  I’ve actually been thinking about that this weekend. Very short versions …

Scanlan’s imagined his own death in many ways, but catching a stray illness in a no-name town is not one of those ways. But the fever sets in one morning, and never goes away. 

When he sees Vax at his bedside, he assumes it’s a hallucination. “Imagine me,” he tells the apparition, “Scanlan Shorthalt, savior of the entirety of fucking Exandria, dying in a shithole town like … what the hell is the name of this town, anyway?”

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12| Pas De Deux

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Ballet au, Romance, Angst
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 3686

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In the night, you dreamt you were one of the swans circling the Prince and Odette. You could hear the music, feel the heat of the lights on you. You felt beautiful, like you were truly a swan-lady, destined to be trapped in this moonlit lake for all eternity, who danced each night in the swirling mist, showing her despair. And as dawn came, your sisters and you would be forced into the reeds, and be returned as full swans, waiting for night once more.

You spun, feeling white netting swish on your legs. It was not so bad, for the night was long and free, but then you saw who all of you circled.

The brown haired prince stood, staring with protective, loving hazel eyes at a beautiful, green eyed Odette as she hurried to him. He lifted her high above him, and they stared deeply at each other, the love, the despair they shared between them so potently strong. Your imagination made it breathtakingly beautiful, which brought you to the point of pain as you followed your sisters, readying to turn into real swans. The sun was on the horizon. But the two stayed, proclaiming their love to each other once more.

And then, as the music reached its climax, as the evil Rothbart’s magic commanded her to turn, they kissed. One agonizing, heart-wrenchingly beautiful kiss. And you, the last swan to leave, stopped in your transformation, a sudden pain in your chest as you watched him lift her high once again. And she looked as if she were flying, as if she were free.

It all faded to darkness, but the ache in your chest stayed as you wished, prayed you were her. Wanting nothing more. You lay suspended in the outskirts of consciousness for a moment, blinking back strange tears.

“Morning (Name)!”

Finally awaking, you opened your eyes. “Morning Yuna.” You were glad to see that you hadn’t woken up too late, as everyone else had just started to get up as well.

“So?” Yuna demanded, an excited smile on her face, her frizzy auburn hair slipping out of her ponytail.

You frowned, slipping out of bed and going to your trunk. Your muscles were very stiff. “So what?”

She rolled her eyes, kneeling down next to you. “So what happened last night?” She almost squealed, bringing us to the attention of the whole dorm. “What did Jimin want with you?”

“He took me to Doctor Hill.” You told her. “I have a concussion.”

She frowned. “What? When did that happen?”

You tugged your towel and clothes out. “When Jiwoo fell, she knocked into me and Eungkwan. I’m pretty shaky on the memory, but I must’ve bashed my head on the floor.”

“Oh my God.” She said, a hand to her mouth. “I totally forgot you and Eungkwan were doing it as well. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You reassured her, standing up. “Did I miss anything in Pas de Deux?”

She shook her head and giggled. “We were all too rowdy so Mrs Shin started playing Christmas Carols. We had a choir session.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Christmas Carols?”

She giggled and shrugged. “We’re dancers, not singers – they were the only ones in our repertoire.”

You laughed as you shook your head, then headed for the shower room.

The hot water did a lot to loosen up your muscles, and you relaxed back against the walls, letting the last remnants of that dream fall away. It had been ridiculous anyway. At least, your emotions had been. You began to focus back on your dance. Today, after breakfast, you would show it to Madame Choi. Thankfully you hadn’t forgotten the movements, despite the memory loss your concussion seemed to have given you. And so you recounted all of them, hearing the music in your head. Hopefully she would like it. You’d tried to make it as unobtrusive as possible to the rest of the class. But what if she didn’t like the idea of changing her own choreography? And you weren’t a choreographer in any aspect. The only thing you knew was that the way you’d danced yesterday felt…right.

“(Name)?” Came Yuna’s anxious shout from the front of the shower room.

“Yeah?” You called back.

“You should probably hurry up, Madam Choi is waiting.”

Crap! “Coming!” You told her. Shutting off the shower and hopping out, you quickly got into your tights and leo.

When you got back, everyone else was already lined up in front of their beds with army discipline. Madame Choi stood beside yours, which was unmade with your clothes hanging out of your trunk. “Late again, Miss (Surname)?”

“Sorry ma'am.” You said, standing awkwardly in front of her with your towel and toilet bag.

She pursed her lips and looked you up and down, taking in your leotard. “I am told you are not to take any ballet classes today, Miss (Surname).”

You felt like groaning. You’d thought maybe Doctor Hill would forget to tell your teachers and you would be able to dance anyway. “Ma'am, I’m fine.” You said. “I can dance.”

She put her fists on her hips. “Miss (Surname) put your normal clothes back on. You will not be dancing today.”


“I said no!” She roared. Suddenly, her large, angular face became a bright red. “Just as much as I don’t want this either, you will not be dancing!”

You had the common sense to not say anything else. She stared at you for a moment. You thought her eyes might burst, the way the veins were popping out. Eventually, her nostrils flared, she spun on her heels and marched out of the room, with a final yell of.  "Now go to breakfast!“ The door slammed shut.

There was only a second of silence.

"Well that’s just great.” Minjee drawled. “You’re bad enough as it is and now you can’t even rehearse.”

You sighed. “Shut up, Minjee.” You knelt down to your trunk and yanked out some clothes.

“Why should I?” She snapped, coming towards you. “You’ve managed to let our entire class down.”

You stood back up. The girls from Master Kang’s class were all trying to hide their pleasure. Madame Choi’s class had just lost their soloist . The victory was theirs. “It wasn’t exactly my fault that I got a concussion, Minjee.”

“Oh please, you were faking that to get with Park Jimin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you really that thick, Minjee?” You pulled on your track pants and Gwangju High hoodie over your leo and tights.

“Madame Choi will just cut the solo.” Seohyun shrugged.

You tried not to show how much that idea pained you, though storming out the door probably wasn’t the best way of hiding it.

Your fists clenched as you walked down the corridor. That could not happen! She could not cut your solo! Not when you had so much to show now.

“(Name)!” Yuna and Hyeun were jogging to catch up with you.

You sighed. You were being selfish. Cutting the solo would be what was best for your class. And, after all, it was a class dance, not a (Name)-needs-to-prove-herself-to-Park-Jimin-to-heal-her-hurt-pride dance.

“(Name).” Began Hyeun, trying for a sympathetic voice. “Your solo was great and all, but we seriously need to rehearse properly and.” She looked at you hesitantly, her face caught in that weak too-bad smile. “Well, even if you did get to rehearse, you weren’t exactly, you know, very good?”

You shut your eyes for a moment, pressing your lips together. She didn’t know about what you’d come up with last night.

“Not to say you don’t have, like, talent.” Hyeun went on.

“Hyeun.” You said tiredly. “Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

She gave a nervous smile. “‘kay.”

The three of you went down to the dining hall in merciful silence and sat down at your table. Outside, grey clouds shrouded the sky. You glumly began eating your fruit salad and yoghurt. You deeply wished Jiwoo was here. She may have thought that your solo should be cut, but at least you’d be able to talk about something else. You could tell her about what you’d come up with last night. Even now, Minjee and Hyeun were filling the boys in on how you couldn’t rehearse. “Oh my God!” Jongsoo groaned, rolling his head in his hands. “We’re already struggling to get it nailed!”

“Yeah.” Kihyun nodded. “And Master Kang’s class is completely ready, costumes and everything.”

“We get costumes?” Hyeun repeated, perking up considerably.

You caught a movement in the corner of your eye, and turned to see Jimin and Taeyeon sitting back with Jung Dawon and her friends. Taeyeon was picking her nail, and Jimin seemed to be deep in conversation with Dawon, nodding seriously. Even though you knew better, he seemed so much older than seventeen. The boys in your year back in Gwangju hadn’t seemed so…focussed. You remembered what he’d said about standards yesterday, you guessed that those had gotten him to where he was today. And when he taught, you had to admit he was as good as any other teacher here. He was dedicated, even when he had an audition for the American Ballet and he was just a student.

You sighed, returning your gaze to your own table. It was clear that underneath all your irritation, you still had that strange curiosity about him.

By the time you reached the studio, the whole class was grumbling. You sat down desolately in a corner and waited for Madam Choi to arrive. Yuna and Hyeun came and sat next to you, but there wasn’t much to talk about. Other people stood around stretching, giving you snide side looks.

Minjee was going on about how maybe she could do the solo. You knew that wouldn’t happen though. Madame Choi had made that solo for you, exactly to your strengths. Besides, it had been difficult for you to learn. The class choreography would be easier to change, it was mostly the beginning and the entrances, not the actual moves. Still, it would be difficult.

You picked at a thread in your old trackpants, watching with envy as Yuna and Hyeun tied up their pointe shoes. The worst thing was that you were totally fine. Your headache only emerged occasionally, and you’d managed to eat breakfast without any declinations from your stomach. To stop you from dancing was just silly! Except, you remembered, Doctor Hill probably wanted as few people dancing at this school as possible. Perhaps half the school was off with 'serious’ injuries diagnosed by him.

“Good Morning class!” Madame Choi entered. You quickly stood up, curtsying with everyone else.

“Good Morning Madame Choi.” Your class chorused.

She clapped her hands. “It’s Thursday, you have three rehearsals after this, four if you are lucky. No barre for the rest of the week, one would hope you’ve all learnt to balance without it by now. Positions for the beginning if you please! And one two three.” She turned to cue Mister Ghim.

Everyone looked at you as they went to their positions 'offstage’. You stood there dopily in the middle of the studio. Mister Ghim was already playing the introduction. God, it sounded even better on a live piano. The moves you’d created last night came automatically to your mind, but you shoved them back.

“Stop.” Madame Choi’s firm voice rang out.

“Why are you still here Miss (Surname)? If you can’t dance you may as well leave then.” She said, voice tuning bitter. “Clearly there’s no point of you being here if you can’t even rehearse.”

You nodded and went over to your bag. You felt Madame Choi’s eyes on you. “Begin in a line.” She shook her head wearily. “We’ll start over again. Mister Ghim, music please.” Mister Ghim nodded and dolefully began playing the piece, you’d laid all your feelings and passion in last night. It no longer sounded happy.

You solemnly went to the door as the rest of your class lined up. You knew they were all glaring at you.

“A straight line!” Madame Choi snapped harshly. You shut the door behind you, the noise immediately stopping. The corridor was quiet, though through each door came the muted sound of a piano or a teacher yelling. You turned and walked slowly to the stairs. What would you do now? The only non-practical class you had today was Ballet History in fifth period.

You ended up in the library. You’d discovered it last weekend, on Jiwoo’s tour. It was hidden away down a narrow corridor at the back of the ground floor’s west wing. You’d only managed to go in a few times, with all that had been happening.

It was designed as a private library, with two high-backed chairs and a couch tilted to face a large fireplace. Moulded into the mantle were ballerinas, frozen in leaps and pirouettes, re-enacting the flames that now crackled inside the hearth. It seemed as though it was one of the few fireplaces in the academy that hadn’t been boarded up. You were glad it hadn’t, it was too beautiful.

The library walls were lined with dark cherry wood bookcases, reaching right from the floor to the high ceiling. Like in every room, a chandelier hung from the rafters, the electric lights dimmed slightly. Large rectangular cherry wood tables were placed in two columns coming from the big Northern window.

You smiled to the one librarian, Mrs Bell, who sat at her usual writing desk by the door. The laptop she used for cataloguing looked very out of place. She smiled back. You were pretty much convinced you were one of her only visitors.

Right now, that was certainly true. With everyone at classes, the couches and tables were all empty. You had the place to yourself. You dumped your books on the table closest to the window and sat down. Ignoring the large folder with study instructions, you put your head on your hands, pressing your knuckles into your forehead. You’d hated Madame Choi’s reaction. You knew you could hardly have helped the concussion, but maybe if you’d reported it sooner, Doctor Hill would have pulled you out of classes when it had been bad, and you would only have missed one tech class, but that didn’t matter. You hadn’t, and now your class had to start all over again. You bit your lip as your fist clenched. You needed to calm down, you couldn’t do anything about it now. You wearily sat up again.

Your Calculus textbook stared ominously up at you. Normally, you would have shoved it away and tried doing some Science or English, but your mind needed numbing, and Calc had a way of doing that.

You worked for hours, happily for once, getting lost in a world of limits and infinitesimals, where everything had a neat, logical answer in the end. The complete opposite from everything you’d found at Amour.

Life at Gwangju High had been a lot simpler, that was for sure. You would get up, have breakfast, go to school, hang out with the other intellects from your year, chat easily about normal, teenage stuff, like guys and grades. You were a nerd, after all and you’d go to class and either get thoroughly bored, confused or breeze through with a mild interest, depending on the subject. Then you would leave with your mom in her battered Honda and go to Mrs Harcourt’s class.

And that was when life actually began. The girls had gradually come to accept you, though the five of them had been the Gwangju Ballerinas since they were little, and you got along as Mrs Harcourt taught you how to dance. She hadn’t been in a world-renowned ballet company or anything, but she had so much knowledge of posture and balance and, most importantly for you at the beginning, a great understanding of the link between music and movement.

You had gone en pointe just six months after you’d begun ballet. You Mom reluctantly bought you your first pair of pointe shoes for your fourteenth birthday. They’d cost her a great amount of Won’s. A amonut she’d rather spent on clothes and books for you. But you’d saved up and bought every pair yourself since then.

You snapped back, realising you’d gotten totally off the graph you were meant to be working on. You glanced at the grandfather clock at the high celling. It’s face was painted with a scene from Giselle, and Giselle’s arm was the hour hand, her leg the minute hand, it was slightly creepy that her limbs could do full rotations like that, but you liked the creativity.

Right now, it was nearing one, with Giselle’s leg in a not too unbelievable Grande Battement. You cleared up your books, satisfied that you had almost two months worth of calculus to send back to your 'tutor’ at the correspondence school. Rain beat against the large window. You looked out briefly at the vast grounds of Amour de le Beauté.

Beyond the courtyard, well manicured lawns led down to the Vigernon Church, where services were apparently still held for the School and the town a couple of miles down the road. To the Eastern side there was a walled garden that you had yet to explore, and to the West was the edge of a national forest. You had come a long way since the back room of Mrs Harcourt’s house. A long way, but had you capacity to go any further? You turned away from the window and left the warm, safe library with a wave to Mrs Bell. You ran upstairs to drop off your books at your room, then joined the throng of students on the second floor heading down to lunch.

Once you’d gotten your plate, you  found your classmates sitting around your table, their eyes tired and faces grim. You hesitantly sat down at your usual place. Minjee sat up when she saw you. “You have dumped us in the biggest shit possible.” She said, glaring at you.

You rolled your eyes wearily. You time with Mister Calculus had made your over-emotional mind clearer, and you now defended yourself. “I couldn’t help but get a concussion, so don’t blame me, Minjee. I’m not getting any pleasure out of not taking class and I would be right in there dancing with you if I could possibly.” You cocked your head, raising an eyebrow. “Although, you seemed equally unhappy about me having the solo, so you of all people can hardly complain.”

Minjee huffed, standing up with her plate in hand. Her dark eyes set on you nastily. “Don’t fucking mess with me.” She snarled.

“Only as much as you annoy me.” You spoke calmly. She shoved back her chair and stormed over to another table. Seohyun silently got up and followed.

“Jeez (Name).” Yuna muttered. You turned, frowning.

“What?” You asked.

“We’re all tired.” Jongsoo said. “You didn’t have to be so harsh.”

“What the hell?” You exclaimed. “Since when was sticking up for yourself such a crime?”

Yuna sighed. “Madam Choi gave us a really hard time. You stressed her out majorly.”

“Yeah.” Kihyun agreed. “We got all the flack for what you did.”

You stared at him incredulously, then stood up abruptly. “It’s pathetic that you blame me.” You frowned, looking to Yuna and Hyeun. “You guys didn’t this morning. Why now?”

“(Name), we didn’t realise how hard it would be. You could have fought harder to rehearse with us.”

“What? I already did you see the look on Madam Choi’s face?” You demanded.

Kwangsik finally spoke up. “I did, and you really couldn’t have done anything.” He said looking at you.

You nodded.

“And by the way the cheo was hard, but of course we’ll manage anyway.” You gave him a small smile of thanks. He’d hardly spoken since Jiwoo’s fall.

Hyeun seemed a little irritated that he’d given that away. Like it was a game. “You still could have tried.” She said. “It was horrible. Madame Chou was onto us about everything. She even gave Jongsoo a detention and she wouldn’t let us have a break or anything. She went physco at Minjee because she missed the new entrance. It was easier with you there.” She said. “All we had to do was make you look pretty.”

You stared at her. Even the others realized she’d said exactly what they’d wanted to avoid.

“Oh my God! You’re using me as a scapegoat because you’re having to work hard now!” You put a hand to your head, unable to quite believe it. “You don’t even understand that, that’s how you get places! You don’t even bother to have standards! You just want to cruise along and bask in the glory of other people’s work!” You let out a bark of laughter, picking up your plate. “I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you to blame. Tough luck.”

You spun on your heel and walked away. You knew your argument had made a lot of heads turn, but you couldn’t be bothered worrying about your reputation. You were sick of it all, so, so sick of it. You saw Eungkwan on the way out and brusquely told him not to bother coming to Pas de Deux today.

Then you stalked out of the dining hall, feeling utterly lost. Most people hadn’t finished lunch yet, and so the entrance hall was empty. You walked slowly up the stairs. You didn’t know what to think. Or what to do.

“(Name)!” The owner of the voice didn’t register with you at first.

You frowned, turning to face back down the stairs. Jung Dawon was hurrying up to you, dressed in a black and white skirted leotard. When she reached you she gave you a once over look and said. “What’s your next class?”

“Ballet History.” You replied automatically.

“Good.” She grinned and grabbed your hand. “That’s skippable.

anonymous asked:

You've made your disdain for onions abundantly clear, but what are your thoughts on celery?

Funny you should ask! I was just thinking about this. In the days before the dawn of humankind, the vice admiral of the Great Light looked out upon the Earth and smiled. So pleased was he by the creation of the Great Light that he sent out an invitation to all the vegetation on the Earth to a great feast he was to hold in his castle. He spent the next two weeks preparing, and on the day of the feast, all the vegetation showed up: cucumbers, plums, mint leaf, artichokes—all of them. There was a jovial air in the castle, and everyone enjoyed themselves talking, laughing, dancing, and feasting on the original food of the Earth (kestwa, malador, sweet disti, laffa, etc.). As they finished eating, the vice admiral raised his hands for silence. “My friends!” he said. “We have such a perfect existence, that I have decided to bestow upon you a great gift!” A murmur arose.”Today I give you the gift of flavor!” The murmur grew to a general roar of confusion, as no one knew what this meant. “This is a new concept, I know, but I will show you what I mean. Let us start with my good friend Pineapple!” And so the mighty pineapple stood and strode proudly up to the vice admiral. The vice admiral looked at him and said, “My dear Pineapple! Thank you for being you. I now give you…flavor!” There was a frisson as a smell and sensation rushed through the air: the original sensation of the flavor of pineapple. The attendants were overcome, and instantly started leaping from their chairs, unable to contain themselves and excited to claim their own flavor. The vice admiral laughed and raised his hands again, “One at a time, one at a time! I promise I will get to each and every one of you!”

And good as his word, so he did! He delivered sweet flavors to the mango, the strawberry, and the banana; fresh, crisp flavors to the apple, the cucumber, and the proud, proud carrot; earth flavors to the potato, the beet, and the radish; and even pestilential flavors to the durian fruit and the onion, who were somehow pleased by this. He continued on, giving a flavor to each and every vegetable and fruit and gourd and root, ending finally with the avocado, to which he gave the flavor “vague”. And at the end he said, “And so, my dear friends, I thank you for coming, and wish you a wondrous and beautiful future filled with fun and flavor!” And the vegetation cheered and thanked him, with tears in their eyes, pits, and kernels, and they all went back to their homes.

Now, what flavor did the celery get, you may ask? Perhaps I can answer this question by telling you what the celery was up to during the great feast at the vice admiral’s castle.

To put it bluntly, the celery was asleep. It was up all night worrying about what it was going to wear the next day (hint: the vegetation didn’t wear clothing, it not having been invented yet) that it didn’t sleep a wink, and when the time to leave came, the celery was sound asleep in the middle of its floor. And there it remained until late that night when all the other vegetation was returning. When the vice admiral realized the celery hadn’t attended, he was so hurt and shut up his castle forever, returning to the future whence he came, and taking with him the secret of flavor, which he gave to a character in a Futurama episode, who later shared it with Bender.

So, as for what flavor the celery got? None. It got no flavor. At all. As a result, it is less flavorful than plain water—even less flavorful than the vaguely flavored avocado which can win fans through hypnosis only.

So, to answer your question, what are my thoughts on celery? It is food. It is plain food. If I had to eat it to keep myself alive, I wouldn’t mind, because all it has is a texture. And strings. No idea why they decided to add strings to celery, but that’s not my business. It’s been observed and scientifically tested that you can feed celery to a sleeping human and they won’t notice. The celery’s favorite color is clear. If you give a stalk of celery to a cat it just confuses them. They asked a million American football fans what they preferred—a football game that ends in a tie or celery—and they went with ties in football because they were “more definitive”. Celery is used as a vehicle for peanut butter and crab salad because it’s considered impolite to eat either substance with one’s hands in public, and because with a spoon, it’s impossible to ensure party goers don’t double dip. The great thing about using celery for this purpose is that it has absolutely no flavor, so it’s the same as just eating peanut butter or crab salad—just with added strings to remind you that life is unfair. (Seriously, think about any other food on the planet where you’d say, “Damn! I want to put either peanut butter or crab salad on that! Doesn’t matter which, since this food goes with either peanut butter or crab salad equally well!”)

Now don’t take this to mean that I hate celery. How could I? How could any? They had to stop giving it to babies because babies exposed to celery in the first couple months didn’t realize they were eating anything, and had trouble thereafter recognizing what food was, and how eating worked. If celery were a person and you asked me to date it, I’d say, “I have no opinion”—and I’m married! I mean if it’s there, I guess I’ll take it, because boy howdy, do I love getting strings of stuff stuck in my teeth. How satisfying! It’s like, “Hey, girl! You want to feel like you came out of the bathroom after flossing but left some of that floss stuck in your teeth?” Sign me up for some of that!

But I guess the best thing about its lack of flavor is it doesn’t shove it in your face, you know? It’s an extremely subtle complete lack of flavor. It’s like if someone goes to an award show wearing a folded over bed sheet, but arrives in an unopened cardboard box, so you don’t even see the sheet—or the person. So you’ve got to hand it to celery for that. Like, good on celery for not being all showy about its total absence of flavor.

So those are some of my thoughts on celery. I have others, but this isn’t really the time or place to discuss them. Thank you for your query, and please have a wonderful day on my behalf.


Cassata Siciliana

Perché ho scelto te? Non lo so. Mi piaceva la tua risata da bambina, la tua pelle di sale che si copriva con il corallo delle tue lentiggini, i tuoi fianchi morbidi come caldo muschio, il modo come ascoltavi, come guardavi, i silenzi che avevi, i capelli ondulati in cui si imbrigliavano i miei sogni, la trama della tua vita fatta di dolori e desideri, il profumo che davi ai miei giorni, i tuoi occhi che riempivano le mie notti, il modo come ti eccitavi, il modo come mi eccitavi per poi spegnerci, sazi, stanchi, felici. Forse conoscevo dieci cento mille cassate tutte diverse da te, piene di provocante frutta candita, di golosa ricotta di peccaminosi granelli di cioccolata o di feticista pistacchio; cassate ricche, povere, estrose, fantasiose, normali, ma tra tutte per caso, per necessità per bisogno io ho scelto te. Vedendoti ho avuto subito la percezione che tu eri quella definitiva, la prima e l’ultima, l’alfa e l’omega, che non avevo più bisogno di cercare, di sognarti, di desiderarti, di inseguirti su i web, nei bar caotici o nelle strade vuote, tu eri, semplicemente, finalmente, assolutamente, tu eri ! non c’era più bisogno di inventarti, di aspettarti, di scriverti: tu eri! tra migliaia di stelle o di fiori o di cassate, tu eri la mia cassata, l’unica, quella che copriva e faceva perdere valore a tutte le altre. Tu eri quanto mi mancava, quanto volevo e pretendevo, il coraggio, l’incoscienza, la libertà. Cosi ti ho mangiata subito golosamente, lentamente in ogni luogo ed istante. Letti disfatti, cuscini per terra, coperte in aria, abbiamo lasciato tracce evidenti del nostro passaggio ed ancora ogni notte cerco la tua mano, ogni mattino cerchi il mio abbraccio, ogni momento il mio cuore è una bussola che mi indica sempre dove sei, dove cercarti, come arrivare al tuo cuore. Forse ci sono cento mille diecimila cassate e qualcuna più buona di te e qualche altra più ricca di te, ma io, guidato dalla certezza che eri tu la mia indelebile felicità, ho scelto te.

Why did I choose you? I do not know. I liked your laugh as a little girl, your salt skin covered with the coral of your freckles, your soft hips like warm musk, the way you listened, the silence you had, your wavy hair where my dreams remain tangled, the plot of your life made of sorrows and desires, the scent that you gave to my days, your eyes filling my nights, the way you were excited, the way you excited me and then how we turned off our passion, tired, happy. Perhaps I knew ten hundred, thousand Cassate all different from you, full of provocative candied fruit, delicious ricotta of sinful chocolate grains or pistachio fetish; rich, poor, frivolous, imaginative, normal, but by chance, by need, I chose you. Seeing you I immediately had the perception that you were the definitive one, the first and the last, that I no longer needed to look for, to dream of, to wish you, to chase you on the web, in some chaotic bars, or in the empty streets, you were, just, finally, absolutely, you were! There was no need to invent, to wait for, to write to you: you were! Between thousands of stars or flowers or cassata, you were my cassata, the only one, covering it and losing value to all the others. You were what I lacked, as I wanted and pretended, you were the courage, unconsciousness, freedom. So I’ve eaten you immediately, gently, slowly everywhere and instantly. Unleashed beds, pillows on the ground, covered in the air, we left clear traces of our passage and every night I look for your hand every morning look for my hug, every moment my heart is a compass that always tells where you are where look for you, how to get to your heart. Perhaps there are a hundred, thousand of Cassate some better than you and some other richer than you, but I, guided by the certainty that you were my indelible happiness, and I chose you.

God’s Plan   By: Y. Black

Wow, I can’t believe it. You here. Look at you so beautiful. I been so anxious just to see your face. Damn look that’s my nose on ya face. “Damn it feels good to have you.” Cole said it best. These tears of joy one day you’ll have the pleasure to know. It’s crazy to know half you is exactly me. All these emotions, I’m beside myself. Look at the queen that birth you. She’s amazing and she’s going to love you unconditionally. She did so well. She’s so strong I hope you get that part of her traits. I never fathomed I’d be a dad, a surely to not be blessed with a beautiful woman like your mom to create a life with. And look at you head full of hair. Lungs blaring throughout the maternity ward. I guess you wanted the world to be sure of your arrival. Trust me baby for you there are no rivals. I just wish I was around to be your idol.
It would kill me to know I can’t raise you. Daddy won’t be there to bathe you. Show how much of a joy you are to see. Can’t admire your beauty as you sleep. Can’t stop looking at you all I see is me. Then I’m rushed with all thoughts of what won’t be. I won’t be there for your first words, or watch you stumble after your first steps. I had plans on teaching you to ride a bike, daddy daughter date nights. I poised to put my pride aside for you. There wouldn’t have been no doubts, you’d know daddy loves you. My entire reason for being would have be altered. But I’ve been robbed, no you’ve been robbed. Better yet we’ve been robbed.
They stole me from you my little angel. I had no clue I would only be allowed to be a spectator of your amazement. I hate this for us. It’s crazy, because I was out already spoiling you. See you had your momma craving Popeyes biscuits, a Chic-Fil-A samich, and to top it off her hood ass wanted an Arizona. I was on the home stretch, just needed to make it to the corner store and head home. Straight to the back, the lemon tea was awaiting me. I grabbed a fruit punch for me since I couldn’t resist.  AS I turned back I heard the familiar click clack. A nigga had Shareef hemmed up, meanwhile I’m on stuck in the back. “Who else in this store? Why the fuck you keep looking in the back?” Shit, I’m just tryna make it to you mommy, and I’m caught up in the middle of an armed robbery.  My heart was in my throat. Scared to breathe for fear a nigga might choke.
Then I heard it, ears ringing. Slight stinging. Looked down like damn nigga shot the fruit punch out my hand. Shit had my whole T-shirt red. But it didn’t explain why a nigga was feeling light in the head. All I could think about was you. How gorgeous you are. How you were already my everything. Then it hit me, my baby girl was going to have to live a life without me. I kind of felt like I was incessantly drowning. But I, looking at you from the other side you’re everything sweet pea. Just wish I was there to show you what you mean to me.

See you then

As you came back,
You were so different.
I just wanted to save
What once was mine.

And although my chrysanthemum
With its pink petals was more like the lucky clover,
The jonquils grew faster this spring
I knew the words “I cant stay” will sting.

Our own civil war,
That you brought home.
It was nothing I ever wished to get
The only thing I longed for was still far away.

Are this summer still
The beautiful bees deep asleep?
Are they gone with our memories?
They should know the gerberas are crying.

Our fall was an eternity to early here.
My efforts weren’t worth all that
The fruits of my work aren’t there.
You earned, my darling, that heartsease, indeed.

I hope winter will remind the lost part of you.
The last warning, now there’s four.
I still hope naively you’d come to me
But there’s no you, just a cold soldier.

The snowdrops never came back.
It was a lot easier to leave me behind.
Than to find yourself again.
You turned everything grey, even me.

The war seemed to change me more anyway.
But it didn’t stop me from having this gillyflower for you.
The black roses, dd they make you cry?
My sweetheart, the red tulips are gone, too.

My love, you came back to me in the end, so please, don’t cry.
That’s too late for violet hyacinths.
But when I’m gone, exhausted lids falling, promise me
You’ll pick only the summer flowers leaving my winter alone.

I suddenly remember our big blue ocean,
One of the last shared moments.
There was aster in my hair and a sunflower in your hand.
I fall asleep with the memory just like with a love song.
Because I can’t help falling in love with you for the last time, Dean.

See you then, love.

I wrote this for my german class a few months but i finally decided to translate it and was at the edge of crying when doing this

*nervous laughter* if you see any outstanding points you’ll have to know that i never read past the moment when Dean has to sing louder than the ECG so Cas concentrates on his voice

Aand now the meaning of the flowers and all that

Chrysanthemum - Devotion, “I belong to you”

clover - hope, luck

jonquil - disappointed love

bees - hard work, order, fertility,(eventually love)

gerberas - “You make the(/my) world beautiful”

fall - difficult time

heartsease - “You break my heart”

winter - ending, death

snowdrops - purity, innocence

gillyflower - expecting, eternal memory, burning gratitude

black roses - death (a Little obvious though)

red tulips - perfect love

violet hyacinths - “I’m sorry”

summer - maturity

ocean - infinity, passion, changeability

aster - optimism, luck

sunflower - blind love, passion

if you find a better meaning let me know because i took them from different cultures and they may not fit correctly

See you then

15| Pas De Deux

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Ballet au, Romance, Angst
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 3578

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Friday passed quickly. Your dorm mates were excruciatingly quiet in the morning. They whispered amongst each other, looking from you to Minjee. Minjee, who was making her bed at the other end of the room, kept shooting you death glares. Last night had ended so abruptly, with Madame Hyejin walking in like that. Minjee’s comment about your age and experience had been left hanging, and you’d never gotten back at her since she’d slapped you. She didn’t have the upper hand, but, neither did you.

You tugged a pair of jeans and a sweater out of your trunk. Patience was a little difficult to have when the entire dorm was wondering if the two of you were about to burst and start arguing again. It didn’t help that you’d landed her with a punishment either. Still, if she hadn’t left a great red mark on your face then Madame Hyejin wouldn’t have been so harsh.

Speaking of the devil, Madame Hyejin appeared and started the usual dorm inspection, walking up and down ensuring everyone was tidy. When she was finished, she cleared her throat. “Miss (Surname) and Miss Gwan I have decided you will both be joining my conditioning class every morning for all of next week. You will also report to the kitchen staff after class on Monday. The rest of you, have a good day.”

Minjee looked at you sneeringly, and then strutted down the dorm room, flanked by Seohyun and Hyeun.

You rolled your eyes as she shoved past you. Conditioning and washing up, weren’t too bad.

The other girls left silently, though as soon as they got out the door they began whispering excitedly again.

Reaching the dining hall, another dilemma hit you. There was no way you could sit with anyone from your class. They were already sitting around the usual table. Seohyun was excitedly telling everyone what had happened last night, no doubt accentuating Minjee’s slap. Only Yuna and Kwangsik didn’t look amused. You certainly couldn’t sit there. You swallowed and went into the food line. What were you going to do? It was probably too obvious if you walked out to the toilets with a bowl of musli and a glass of apple juice…

“(Name)! Morning!” You turned around to face a grinning Dawon.

“Morning.” You looked at the bouncing pixie in front of you. Your mind suddenly taken away from depression. “Nice leo, by the way.” You nodded acknowledging at her. It was black and bright pink lycra with a matching skirt and fingerless gloves. She finished the ensemble off with black tights, and a pair of bright pink pointe shoes hung from her hands.

She grinned, and turned around to Seokjin, who stood behind her in the usually black and white uniform. “See, (Name) likes it!”

He sighed affectionately down at her. “Don’t blame me if I drop you with that damned slippery lycra.”

“Aww, you wouldn’t.” She curled her arms around his waist.

He gave her a peck on the lips. “Never, my little fairy.”

You blushed as they shared what was really quite an intimate moment. You wished you could have what Dawon and Seokjin had. She seemed like the happiest girl in the world as she stared up into his eyes.

“So, (Name).” Dawon said eventually, as you were serving yourself some fruit salad. “How are things?”

Your entire class against you, punishment from Madame Hyejin this afternoon and not being allowed to dance. “Bearable.”

She raised a dissatisfied eyebrow at you. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed. “Gwan Minjee and I had a bit of an argument last night.”

“That would explain why all your little friends are giggling right now.” She glared over at them. “Seriously, has that Kihyun guy’s voice even broken yet? He looks like, five.”

“What happened?” Seokjin asked, curiously.

“(Name)’s managed to piss off the bitch-establishment of the first years.”

He grinned at you. “Good job. It took Dawon at least three weeks to really stir them up.”

“Hey!” She exclaimed. “It didn’t take that long! Remember the scrunchie war on the first week?”

He laughed. “True, but that wasn’t single-handed.”

She made a face, then grabbed your wrist. “Come on, let’s go eat!”

You looked towards the table she was heading for. All their friends sat there, talking to, crap. No.

“I’ll see you later.” You said, trying to detach yourself from her hand.

“Nu-uh, you are so not becoming a social hermit!” She kept pulling along.

“Dawon.” She stopped as your voice became desperate and turned to face you. “What about Taeyeon? And…”

“Jimin?” She predicted. “(Name), I promise I won’t let Taeyeon scratch you and I will ensure that Jimin’s not too grumpy. ‘Kay?”

You grudgingly let her tug you along the rest of the way.

When reaching the table, you kept your eyes down, but you couldn’t help but see Jimin tense up, looking darkly at Dawon.

You nervously sat down. Kim Taehyung was on your left, Dawon on your right.

“Well if it isn’t little Miss (Name)!” Taehyung exclaimed. “Long time no see!”

You smiled at his warm welcoming. “Hey.”

“Why is she here?” Taeyeon snapped, looking you up and down distastefully with her long lashed eyes.

“Taeyeon.” Jimin muttered quietly.

“She’s our new addition.” Dawon said happily.

“She’s a first year.”

You felt like sinking into a hole. Taeyeon’s scrutiny was frightening.

“But she’s the same age as us.” Dawon folded her arms. Across the table, Jimin didn’t look surprised – he had the same irritated expression on his face. You guessed Madame Hyejin had already told him. You wondered what he thought of it. Maybe that you were even worse because you couldn’t dance at your own age level. You could hardly get angry about that – not when you thought it yourself.

“Wait, you’re seventeen?” Namjoon asked surprised.

You nodded hesitantly.

Namjoon smiled. “Ahh, that explains a lot. I did wonder how a first year could be all wise looking like you. How’d you end up down in the duckling class?”

“I started late.” You shrugged. “Thirteen.”

“Wow! You must be pretty damn good then, since you getting into Amour.” Hoesok exclaimed. “Most of these guys have had to work since they were tiny just to get to this level. Four years though?” He looked extremely fascinated. “You must be a natural. I mean, Taeyeon, didn’t you start when you were three to get in here?”

“And with those private classes from Andre Blanc.” Dawon added.

Taeyeon’s nostrils flared as she glared at them. Then she turned her face to you, a malicious smile suddenly spreading across her face. “So (Name), did you enjoy spying on me and Chim yesterday?”

Oh God. Your gaze slipped to Jimin. Your eyes locked. Something channelled through your body. He was asking the same thing. Why had you been watching him? Why had you run away from him? Not talked to him? But there was something more in his eyes than just questions of privacy, there was curiosity. Like he wanted to know what you’d thought. Like he already knew why you’d been looking. Building your confidence, you raised your eyebrows and tore away from his gaze, looking back to Taeyeon. The surges of adrenalin still powered through your chest, making it hard to think reasonably.

“I could say the same for you.” You knew you were entering dangerous territory, but you kept going. “I’m surprised; I thought you were too cool to watch a mere first year. May I ask why?”

She glared at you. Very dangerous territory. “Your arabesque sucked.” She snapped. “And your pirouette was totally off.”

“Taeyeon.” Dawon warned, but you just smiled at her.

“And thirty-two fouettes really don’t fit in Moonlight Sonata.” You said back as politely as possible.

She raised her eyebrows, tightening her lips. “You’re just jealous because you’re not even close to dancing like I can.”

You shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I still think Moonlight Sonata has its own rules for choreography. Beethoven didn’t write it just so people could show off.”

Yoongi, who had been sitting and observing silently, let out a roar of laughter. “You are a lioness (Name)!”

You glanced at Jimin. He was looking down at his plate, trying to hide a grin. You didn’t particularly like getting a laugh at someone else’s expense, but well.

Taeyeon looked away irritated.

Dawon wisely decided to change the subject. “So I’ve heard about the guest list for the review.”

Jungkook shot forward to look at her. “Who?” He demanded excited.

Dawon grinned. “So far I think it’s the US Ballet Academy and those cute little ones from the Ballet Club in Wrystone.”

“Wait.” You said. “The US Ballet Academy’s coming?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“The reviews not just between classes, you know.” Jungkook spoke up, leaning back in his chair. “We invite them to show them how damn good we are.”

“Will anyone from the US company be coming?” Taeyeon inquired, distracted.

“The director of the Academy’s coming.” Dawon nodded. “He has serious connections.”

“Which is why we’re all blacklisted to get into the US company.” Yoongi mumbled. “They detest us.”

Taeyeon snorted. “I’m not, and neither is Chim.” She turned to him. “This is so perfect – they won’t even need to bother with an audition after they see us on Sunday.”

Jimin didn’t seem remotely excited. He just nodded, absentmindedly tracing the rim of his orange juice glass with his finger.

“Who else?” Jungkook pried.

Dawon thought for a second. “I think a few classes from JYP Ballet are coming too.”

“Bastards.” Yoongi muttered. For your benefit, he added. “Even worse than the damn US Academy is JYP. They’re always going on about how their contemporary is so much better than ours.”

You frowned. “So what? I didn’t think Amour even cared about modern.”

“We don’t.” Seokjin said. “But they still think it makes them better than us.”

“We should care.” Taeyeon muttered. “The US Ballet’s repertoire is half contemporary.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s good.” Dawon defended. “Some of their moves are just grotesque.”

“Anyway, JYP is pretty much our devout enemy.” Dawon said looking at you. “Even though some of the guys are dreamy hot.”

“Aw, thanks.” Seokjin scoffed, but he was grinning.

She fluttered her eyelashes. “Mm, you know you’re better.”

“Guys.” Hoseok chastised, looking sternly at his sister. “Not at the table.”

Dawon sniggered, still wrapped up in Seokjin’s arms. “And not doing it during warm ups?”

Jungkook and Taehyung looked horrified. “Or during the dress rehearsal for the Snowflake scene last year!” Taehyung sharply added

Jungkook folded his muscular arms. “Well I had no idea the King and the Angel made out at the end of the first act.”

You almost choked on your juice. “On stage?”

“Oh yes.” Taehyung wiggled his eyebrow. “Right as the curtain went down, there they were, bang centre stage kissing like – ”

Dawon reached over you to thwack him on the head. “Shut it, Tae, we don’t want (Name) getting the wrong idea.”

Taehyung laughed and turned to you. “Ah, who’s to say that (Name) doesn’t have secrets of her own. By the way, who’s your partner at the moment?”

“Dahn Eungkwan” You told him, biting your lip.

“That second year?” Dawon asked. “I don’t know. He’s kind of yummy, in a cold sort of way.”

“You might as well have some fun – Pas de Deux’s all about the closeness, you know.” Seokjin teased and wound his arm around Dawon’s waist.

Through the corner of your eye, you thought you saw Jimin’s finger halt on the rim of his glass. His hand was rigid, but then maybe you just wanted to see that.

You turned back to Seokjin. “I don’t think it’s possible with Eungkwan, he’s a little. Well, he has amazing technique.”

The finger relaxed, continuing on its course around the glass.

Seokjin, guffawed. “Yeah, you seriously need a new partner. Now, who’s available.”

Taeyeon abruptly stood up. “We should get to class.”

Dawon glanced at her phone clock. “Oh crap, yeah we should.”

You looked around. Most of the dining hall had emptied. Your normal table was cleared.

You said goodbye to your new found friends and headed for the library. Despite the tension with Jimin and Taeyeon, you felt warmth blossoming through you. You liked Dawon and Seokjin, who had told you to call him Jin. Taehyung and Hoseok was very friendly and they really seemed nice, not to mention bright and bubbly. Jungkook, Namjoon and Yoongi was more the reserved types, but soon enough they had warmed up, and began talking to you too.

You spent the rest of the day in the library. You sat at your usual table, writing out the choreography notes as Madame Choi had instructed. You glanced at the clock. Nine-Twenty. Your class would have found out by now about your new solo. You seriously doubted they would be happy with yet another change in the choreography. Your logical defence about your concussion was only valid because you hadn’t purposefully changed anything. Now they would know that you had deliberately gone to Madame Choi and asked her to use your new solo. Maybe it wasn’t the best for the class, okay honestly, it certainly wasn’t. But if Madame Choi thought it was possible, then surely there was some hope in it?

Walking into the dining hall took a lot of mental effort. You knew Madame Hyejin would be on your tail if you missed yet another meal – You’d missed dinner to go and see Madame Choi yesterday – But you didn’t want to know your class’s reaction.

Minjee and her friends sat around the usual table, leaning in and talking. When they saw you, though, they went quiet, staring at you with deadly glares. The confident part of you almost felt like laughing – they looked like sheep’s, all doing exactly the same thing in an attempt to seem oppressive. But the much larger, freaked out part of you shuddered. Things didn’t look good.

You went and sat with Dawon again. Jimin and Taeyeon weren’t there, but Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok managed to take your mind off the stares burning into your back with a series of ridiculous jokes and stories.

However lunch passed too quickly, and soon you were at the door to Ballet History. You couldn’t ditch again – You still weren’t a rebel, despite building a new reputation for bitch fights. You pushed open the door. Thankfully there wasn’t any teacher there yet, and everyone was sitting on their desks, chattering.

As soon as you walked in, everyone went quiet. They just stared at you.

So that was their game.

You pushed your hair over one shoulder and dumped your books on a desk at the back. Kwangsik was sitting at the desk next to you. He didn’t stare like everyone else – He just looked down at his books miserably. You swallowed. To have so many eyes on you, all threatening, angry, despising. It crushed you, too heavy to bear. Despite asking for yet another change in choreography, you didn’t deserve this. You let your hair be a curtain, trying to block out their penetrating gazes. It was horrible. Why couldn’t you stare back? Why couldn’t you be confident? You had been confident last night, against Minjee, and even an hour ago, in the dining hall, but this was your whole class. People who you’d never talked to. People who hardly knew you and yet they hated you. Tears prickled at the back of your eyes.

Strength. You had strength. You were going to be okay. They couldn’t hurt you like this. They couldn’t be upset before they really judged how good or bad your dance was. You knew they were angry. The thoughts Minjee had planted in their heads had been confirmed – You had just ruined the review. On purpose, no doubt.

As if.

Yes, yes this was bad, but you were going to be okay. You just had to breathe. Breathe and be patient. Wait until the whole dance were put together. Then let them judge. Then and only then.

But the silence was deafening. The thoughts directed at you, loud and obnoxious.

The door swung open. “Afternoon class.” Master Woo’s voice boomed.

The stares were over. They all slid off their desks and on the chairs. You knew that not all of them had been staring – Yuna had been politely looking out the window, but a lot of them had been. Time passed very slowly, but at least none of them had a chance to look at you, as Master Woo slowly began his lecture about the history of Pointe Shoes.

Perhaps it would have been interesting if he’d been more interested himself. Ballerinas had originally danced in high heel. The promiscuous Marie Taglioni – promiscuous because she came on stage in a calf length, sleeveless dress – had heavily darned her ballet slippers and performed an entire ballet on the tips of her toes. The Italians created more supporting shoes in secret, leaving the Russian dancers far behind.

But then Master Woo started going into the finer details of pointe shoe evolution, and it was impossible to make that interesting. The transition from newspaper to leather toe boxes couldn’t take your attention away from your class.

In front of you, Minjee and Seohyun sat passing notes. Seohyun suddenly burst into laughter, her eyes flicking back to you for just a second.

You had to breathe. You had to stay calm.

1…2…3 You started counting in you head.

The rain was heavier than ever as you made your way down the silent corridors to the studio. You’d skipped out on dinner. You knew it would draw unnecessary attention to you especially Madame Hyejins. You knew that Dawon would wonder where you were. You knew your class would notice and would think that they’d gotten to you. They hadn’t, at least, you kept telling yourself that.

You’d stayed sitting numbly in the library until it was time to get to your rehearsal. You had felt so out of yourself. As if their stares had taken away the assurance you’d had with yourself, and now you thought of that confident (Name) as a different person. You plugged in your iPod and scrolled down your playlist.

Clair de Lune.

Your chest ached for it. The sweet notes began playing in your mind.

Calm, familiar. You shut your eyes and pressed play. You had to hear it. Just once.

You sat down on the floor, reaching forward to hold your feet, breathing in and out slowly, letting the strain and the worries drain off you. Only a few of the lights were on, creating the dim, dreamy world of dusk. As you leant into the stretch, your gaze looked into the darkness. The memory of the notes wove into a glorious picture.

There he stood, his hands cupped, his chest rising and falling. Jimin. He stood there, as if he were your guardian angel. And as the music began to move, so did he, moving round the room so agile and fast, strong and sure. He circled you, joining with the notes, enveloping you in his and their warmth, taking you away from the stress and the pain. You felt protected. As if this familiarity would lead you through anything, the music escalated. Yes, yes he was familiar. The way he moved, the same steps you would take, the same expression.

“Ah, Clair de Lune.” Came a voice.

You snapped out of it. Madame Choi stood at the door, dressed in her usual black long sleeved leotard and skirt. You hurriedly stood up and curtsied, then switched off the music.

“A good piece. Quite lyrical.” She nodded in thought, and then walked in. “How is your concussion, Miss (Surname)?”

“Gone.” You said, pushing your thoughts from before completely away.

“There are a few changes I want to make after seeing the class today.” Madame Choi said.

You nodded.

“Good, now let’s begin.” She clapped her hands and went to stand where the audience would be.

You then immersed yourself in the exact thing that had caused all of today’s strife.

Madame Choi had changed several things, and she changed even more as she watched you rehearse. The technique you needed was becoming engrained, and you knew you were improving.

Like last night, you worked for hours. The rain was a constant companion to the piano, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. “Remember those extensions!” Madame Choi called as you went through the finishing bars. “And show the change! Good!”

The music ended and you stood up straight again, waiting for Madame Choi’s notes. But she was looking away distastefully. “I don’t doubt that you can pull this off, Miss (Surname), but we must both understand that it is a class competition.” She looked at you. “What I mean to say is that if we lose, don’t take it upon yourself.”

You nodded, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to help questioning.

Madame Choi sighed. “It’s very good. I don’t believe we can get any further without the rest of the class. Tomorrow you will be able to dance legally, as it were?”

“Yes Ma'am.”

“Good.” She said. “At least one of my students is ready.”

Just want to let you all know I’m not hating on JYP, but this is just a part of the plot.

WEIGHT LOSS TIP #1: Try to train your tastebuds to get used to not having sweet things but, if you have to, go for a natural sweetener with a low glycemic impact/load like stevia -  preferably the leaf itself or, if that isn't available, go for one with the least amount of processing

Fact: The less you eat sweets and refined foods, the less you want them. Your tastes slowly adjust to enjoying other foods more. Flavors of healthier foods are enhanced and that becomes what you actually prefer. Sweet foods start to taste too rich, and pasta, bread, prepackaged food, and foods low in nutrients will start to taste bland or have a chemical taste (ever accidentally get soap in your mouth? Then you’ll know the feeling.). You’ll actually prefer the rich flavors of brown rice pasta tossed with chicken, fresh spinach, olive oil, fresh garlic, and sun dried tomatoes. Suddenly a creative salad becomes something you didn’t know you were missing and wish you tried ages ago.

ANYWAY, back to the sweeteners, I’ve tried savory oatmeal recipes, which can be good, but I prefer my oatmeal or smoothies sweet. You may be able to avoid adding sweeteners by adding plenty of fruit or bumping up the flavor with vanilla extract and cinnamon or drinking unsweetened chai or peppermint tea, but sometimes you need a little something extra. If so, go for something like stevia. The leaves themselves are the optimal choice, but if that isn’t available, go for stevia with the least amount of processing that you can get your hands on. While foods like honey and agave nectar may be good and even healthy to an extent, you may want to avoid these and other sweeteners if you’re trying to lose weight. Sugar of any variety, artificial sweeteners, alcohol, white bread, anything with white flour like pasta and cake, and even white rice puts a glycemic load on the body. Here’s what a glycemic load (a glycemic impact that isn’t balanced with foods lower on the index) can do:

- cause a blood sugar spike…

- which the body overcompensates for…

- leading to a slump later

- automatically increases appetite 

- stimulates hormone levels in the brain which cause cravings. In turn, the next time around the brain craves even more to get the same effect and so on, creating something resembling an addiction. Did you know you can go through withdrawal symptoms when you cut sugar from your diet? It just leads to needing more sugar.

- the fat produced from sugar and simple carbohydrates tends to collect in the abdominal region more than anywhere else in the body

ARTIFICIAL SWEETENERS SUCH AS ASPARTAME HAVE THAT SAME EFFECT, so sugar-free candy, cakes, or diet soda are equally as bad if not more so. 

I have personally found that I don’t have any of that with low glycemic load natural sweeteners like stevia. In fact, my body feels satisfied that it got what it wanted, so I’m not constantly raiding the fridge or store, looking for things to satisfy my craving for something sweet and constantly eating until I finally just give in anyway or binge until I can’t eat any more yet still haven’t attained satisfaction.

* A couple of disclaimers:

- natural sweeteners such as stevia and erythritol can have side effects, so use in moderation 

- using sweeteners of any kind will inhibit efforts to train your taste buds to enjoy a greater variety of flavorful, unsweetened foods

Unless you’re eliminating sugar from your diet because of health problems such as diabetes and cancer, completely cutting out sugar may not be reasonable, possible, or even desirable. Based on the suggestions, you have to find what works for you.

part three of my Strangebatch fluff by sobeautifullyobsessed

part one

part two  

regretfully, he inquired, “Your time here is growing short, I take it?”

Teyla sighed heavily, reminded of the difficult task that lay ahead for her.  “No talk or thought of that tonight, Doctor.  Tonight I long for the tranquility of a quiet garden and the companionship of a kind man.”  To her credit, she sounded light of heart.

“Then I will see you have exactly what you wish, my dear.”  Surprising himself, he raised her hand and kissed her knuckles, then looked out upon the water, wondering if she would consider that little act too forward—or perhaps wish that he might be moved to more.

Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder, humming contentedly.  Some unknown nightbird called out from the grove of fruit trees on the far side of the still pool; its sweet song was soon taken up by another. In such a setting, Stephen found it easy to imagine they were mates, their pleasant trilling the joyful greetings exchanged as they came together after being parted for too long.  That he was indulging in such uncharacteristically soft musings perplexed him, like a language long forgotten from disuse—until he considered the light of the moon, the garden’s perfume, and the gentle woman leaning against him. 

“Your moon is quite enchanting, isn’t it,” she pondered, and he realized she was likely picking up on his emotions without even meaning to; second nature to her surely, but a marvel still to him.  “But she pales in comparison to the moons of Hadeeth.”

“Moons?” he asked, giving her the encouragement to tell him more; he could not read feelings nearly as well as was her wont, but the trace of longing in Teyla’s voice spoke well enough that she was feeling at least a little homesick

.“Moons,” she repeated, raising her head to look at him directly, eyes wide with delight, “Anya, the eldest, wise and steadfast in her orbit, ruler of the tides.  Enya, middle child, ever brightest of the three, mistress of all nocturnal creatures; she speeds apace or lags behind as her stubborn nature dictates.”  Her voice had fallen into a storyteller’s captivating rhythm; Stephen could picture a circle of Hadeethan children at her feet, listening raptly as she shared with them the folklore of her people.  “And Nonya, wayward youngest of the three, ever eager to appear before the sun has fully set, and last to leave the sky each dawn.” Teyla lowered her eyes shyly as she added, “Nonya is thought the patroness of lovers and their secret trysts.”

Stephen chuckled softly, charmed by both her tale, and the bashfulness that had overtaken her at the mention of lovers’ assignations.  “That’s far more exotic and appealing than some of earth’s legends about the moon; there’s one ridiculous one that maintains the moon is made of cheese.”

“You can’t be serious,” she laughed, “Who would believe such an outlandish idea!”  With narrowed eyes, Teyla studied his face, searching for any sign that he was teasing her, “Oh—but surely you jest?”

“I swear it’s true, Teyla—though I like the poetry of your moons far more than the foolishness of mine.”

That brought a pretty smile to her face, lighting her dark eyes with mirth.  Stephen wondered if she even realized that she was flirting with him; it had been the furthest thing from his mind when he’d invited her for an evening stroll through the National Botanical Gardens of Kathmandu.

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anonymous asked:

Adjacent stands at the farmer’s market AU with Klaroline trying to out do each other please :) Love your fan fics btw

Hello, lovely anon, Sorry it took me so long to come up with this… But I hope you enjoy this… :)


Caroline Forbes was the bane of his existence, a thorn in his side, a pain in his bloody arse and the one who would always have his heart. Klaus Mikaelson grunted angrily when he saw her already set with her stall ready. She was absolutely stunning in her sunshine yellow top and blue jeans with her hair bundled messily on top her head. A few golden tresses kissed her cheeks. He felt a bit jealous of those tresses.

For years growing up in the same neighborhood with adjacent family farms they had, had this silent competition between them.

Even as kids they always did stuff to outdo each other. When she would ride her bike he would also bring out his own and a silent race that who would go faster would ensue between them.

When Thomas had first kissed her in eighth grade he had ended up sleeping with some random girl from his art class the same day.

When he had worked his arse off to get A grade in the Essay contest she had participated in both Essay and debate competitions and had gotten an A++ in the essay and a first prize in the debate. Then had bragged about it the neighborhood lunch.

When she had decided she would take Maths major in high school he had went onto take Advanced Math classes even though he hated Math more than anything else and had ended up failing it miserably.

When time had come for them to choose a college they had both decided that they wouldn’t go to one. They would rather stay home and run the family farm. For him at the time, four years ago, it had been about showing her that he could also do the right thing by his family but he had later realized that it had actually been the right decision.

And even though their fathers were bosom friends, Klaus and Caroline never saw eye to eye.

He wasn’t late rather Miss Always On Time was freaking early. He knew she had shown up early at the Farmer’s Market so she could out-sell him like last season. This season would be his. They even competed at the Farmer’s Market that who would sell more vegetables and fruits.

Hee would at no cost let Forbes win. He set the crates he had been holding, down and she sauntered over to his side.

“Always so tardy. You know early bird catches the first worm, they teach that in middle school.” her tone haughty as she crossed her arms over her chest with a smug smile.

“I’m not late. You came early Forbes. Always so over efficient. I’m not here to catch worms by the way.” he replied and winked at her.

Then opened the folded table and Caroline swiftly moved away to avoid being hit by its edge. She hated the way he addressed her like she was a pesky kid. Too bad he had lousy manners and was well endowed in looks only with his translucent blue eyes and those dimples in a ruggedly handsome face. Dimples which her friend Sally said made a woman’s knickers wetter than monsoon rain.

She hated that she had always felt that Sally was right but she would rather drown herself in acid than admit it. Shoving back that annoying flicker of attraction for him she bit out, “You moron. You could’ve hurt me with that.”

“But I didn’t. Did I?” he asked and tried his damndest to ignore her scent which was a little floral and a little tangy today. It was something different everytime and it always left him turned on

“Nice. Real mature of you. Anyway this year like the last two years I’m gonna win.”

“You only won the last two times because you got your pet Tyler to help you. He and his group of frat boys bought stuff from you just so you couldn’t lose to me. But he isn’t here this season. I heard you two broke up.” Klaus answered with a self-satisfied smile of his own. Upon hearing about her break up Klaus had felt so happy. He hated Tyler so much, that buffoon didn’t deserve her.

“Could you be anymore insensitive and say that with a bigger smile.”

“I really could but I don’t have time to discuss your love life.”

“At least I have a love life.” she sneered.

Klaus placed a sheet over the table and looked back at her. Those loose tresses fluttered over face with the light breeze. He had the urge to pull her closer and taste those pink lips. His desires always in a turmoil when close to her.

Two ladies approached him and asked about apples. He set a few fruit baskets on the table and replied, “And I have customers.”

The women began flirting with him. It irritated the heck out of Caroline. She left in a huff and went to her own stall that was set adjacent to his.


By midday Caroline had already sold a variety of fruits but she saw Klaus was outselling her. For the third time he had blocked one of her customers. She sat the water bottle down she had been drinking from and stormed to his side.

“You cheat. Stop stealing my customers.”

“I am not stealing them.”

“You were.”

“I wasn’t.”


“Bill. Look they are fighting again. I think I angered God when I wished I wanted us to be family. I wanted our kids to fall in love and marry and instead they became enemies.” Mikael sighed as he saw Klaus block the tomato Caroline threw at him.

“Oooh. That’s my girl. Your son needs a good rap on his ears. He is wasting precious time he needs to ask her out already. You know I bet this is the year it finally happens.” Bill responded and chuckled when he saw Klaus threw a large lettuce leaf at her.

“You must be turning blind. Look they are still fighting.” Mikael observed.

“Maybe they need a bit of a nudge.” Caroline’s father Bill rubbed his chin.


“You swine. You immoral asshole. How dare you tell that customer that my tomatoes are tasteless and overpriced.” the fight had now accelerated. They had begun luring customers from each other by telling them how the other was selling low quality stuff.

“My tomatoes are fresh, juicy and delicious.” she yelled through barely controlled fury as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Klaus gave her a very suggestive once over and smirked.

“I wouldn’t know. I never sampled them.”

Fire flashed in her gaze angering her even more.

“You’re disgusting.”

“What did I say?”

“You know fairly well what you meant to say. My tomatoes are fine in fact it’s your …. your carrot that’s flabby and shrivelled.” Caroline smiled haughtily. An attractive woman who was lurking around Klaus’s stall making moony eyes at him earlier gave him a wide berth and left in a rush.

“Wait a second. My carrot..”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Come on. We were ten at the time and the water of the pond was freezing.”

“Really? Is that the story you are going with?” Caroline chuckled.

“Yes. Because that’s what happ..”

Just then Caroline’s cell phone rang. She gestured at Klaus to hold on and stepped aside to take the call.

“Daddy. Where are you? I thought you were coming here today?” she asked her father on the phone.

“Sweets. I was going to but we have a huge problem.”

“What? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Do you have chest pain?” concerned she immediately asked about her father’s health.

“Oh no. Nothing like that. I am healthy as a horse. Our truck the one that was carrying the produce to the city market got into an accident. Thankfully the driver is okay but we lost all of it. And we’ve taken the advance from them. You would really have to sell all of the stuff at the market because we need money to refund them.”

“Oh god. But thank god the driver is fine. What about the money we had in the bank?”

“Ahh.” Bill had forgotten that his daughter might ask about their savings. He hadn’t thought this through he cursed himself. Then quickly improvised. “I had to loan it to a friend.”

“Okay Daddy. You take care of yourself. I’ll do my best.” she replied and gave out a sigh. She rubbed her forehead feeling tired all at once. Caroline was anxious now. How will they come up with so much money? Unless she sold everything she won’t be able to make enough. She walked back to her stall worried and stressed.

Klaus saw her walk back. Caroline Forbes never walked away from a fight especially one with him so when she didn’t come to him directly to finish off where she had left he was a bit surprised. She seemed sad and lost in thought. The sassy smile on her face was now replaced with distress and he didn’t like it.

He went to her. “Is everything okay?”

She jolted out of her troubled thoughts, “Uh. Yeah. Everything is fine.”

“Caroline you don’t look fine.”

She gave him a blank stare, “Klaus I am fine.” she tried to walk around him to pick up a new crate but he blocked her path.

“What’s wrong? And do not say everything is fine. I’m not stupid I can see it isn’t.”

When she just looked away he spat, “Do you hate me that much that you won’t even share what’s bothering you? Our fathers are best friends. We are neighbors. I’m not…”

“I don’t hate you, Klaus. I’m just a little upset. I’ll be fine in a bit. ”

“No you do hate me. You would rather ask Rebekah to help you with sixth grade art class but not me even though I was better than her. You would take Jesse your ex-boyfriend’s help with fixing your bike, who by the way cheated on you in eighth grade but not me. You would ask Tyler to help you find a new car but you won’t ask me even though my friend happens to deal in cars.” It always gutted him when she would go to freaking everybody with her problems and not come to him. True they both were extremely competitive towards each other but he had always respected her, heck she was the only one for him. So it tormented him when she never looked at him they way he was always looking at her.

She looked at him. Some unrecognized emotion swirling in his beautiful eyes. She swallowed once and then replied, “Our produce truck got into an accident. We have to sell all of this,” she gestured towards the crates, “Or we won’t be able to refund the people at the city market.”

Klaus went over to his stall and started bringing his vegetables and fruits on her’s.

“Klaus what are you doing?” she asked going after him.

“You are going to sell all of this and give them the money back. Mikaelsons won’t be selling this season.”

“But I can’t take this. This is yours.”

He put down a basket and faced her, “You said you didn’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Then this is all yours.” then he pushed his table and placed it right next to hers turning it into one large stall.

“Wait. Stop.” Caroline went to stand in front of him.

“Even if you don’t sell. There are still many other vegetable stalls.”

“Yeah but people know Mikaelsons and Forbes are the only two farms with the best quality. If I take my stall out they’ll only buy it from you.”

Caroline was profoundly touched by his gesture.“Why are you doing this?” she asked. They were standing very close now. His eyes fixed on hers.

“Answer this first. Why didn’t you ever come to me when you needed help? We might have been rivals but we were friends too.” her scent was teasing him. He tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t know.” she couldn’t look away.

“Why?” he persisted and leaned closer.

“I didn’t want you to think that I was weak. I just… it didn’t matter what others thought about me but it mattered… it matters what you think.”

“You know what I think when I look at you.”

She shook her head and he proceeded, “I think that Caroline Forbes is the strongest, most beautiful and annoyingly perfect woman I could ever know. I think if she didn’t hate me and wanted me I would spend an eternity loving her like no other. And I think I am an idiot for telling how I feel about you like this but I have to before someone else comes into your life and I have to suffer through it.”

Klaus waited for her to break his heart. He knew he would never be so lucky as to have her as his own.

She moved even closer. Their noses brushed lightly, “But you pushed me off of a swing when we were four.”

“Haven’t you heard he pulls her pigtails because he has a crush on her.” he lightly tugged her strands.

She laughed, “You would have been my first kiss if I hadn’t seen that bitch Genevieve kiss you. I got angry and kissed this other guy.”

“Thomas. And I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. And then when I heard you and Thomas were an item I slept with this random chick…”

“Amanda.” Caroline supplied.

“Wow.” they both laughed. Klaus then grabbed her face and kissed her laughing mouth. She wound her arms around his neck. Pulling back he rested his forehead on hers. “So you were jealous of Amanda?”


“Why?” he needed her to say it.

“Because she stole you from me. Even though we weren’t together. Even though we were supposed to be just friends you were more to me. You were supposed to be my first.”

“I may not have been your first Caroline. But I intend to be your last. However long it takes.” he kissed her again.


Bill and Mikael saw their children embracing. Then they began selling the fruit and vegetables items together. Klaus then pulled her closer, whispered something in her ear and kissed her again. She smacked him and said something about patience since there were people around them.

“So should we tell them that the produce truck is fine and it was your surprisingly successful idea so you could fix them up together.” Mikael asked.

“No. I think we should wait until they get married. It would be a great story for their wedding day.” Bill remarked and his friend shook his head.



Dreams are Not Wishes - DK

Title: Dreams are Not Wishes

Member: DK

Genre: Fluffy fluff 

Summary: In times of self-doubt, a few wise, comforting words to push your back will be enough to remind you, “Keep chasing your dreams!” You just did not expect to hear those words from a busy guy like DK though.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes [!!]: 

  • A short reminder to everyone to keep working hard towards our dreams (yepp, our).  
  • Funny, I actually had an angst idea for DK, but I changed it to a fluffier one because I don’t want him to cry. XDD
  • I am not sure if they do, but I wrote this under the assumption that they have a “dorm ajumma” helping them weekly.
  • Yeheyy for the 1.3k word feat. ;D
  • I am suddenly tagging @saythename17scenarios for all the support she has given to us co-writers. THANK YOU SO MUCH! :D 

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Birthday Cake - Lay

Group: EXO
Member: Lay
Type: fluffy smut 
Warning: sexual content, slight daddykink

requested by the lovely birthday girl @welcome-to-my-exciting-life

Happy birthday! and sorry for posting it later today, i had to sleep on it haha


A bright light almost blinded you when you opened your eyes to wake up. It was very sunny outside and the UV rays that shone through your window threw an agreeable warmth on your face. You rolled over to kiss your boyfriend goodmorning, but a pout appeared on your face when you noticed his presence was replaced with a little note laying on his pillow. You unfolded it and tried to read what it said, your eyes still sleepy and having to get used to the daylight.

‘My dearest, most beautiful and adorable sweetheart,

Today is your 22nd birthday! I wish i could’ve been there when you woke up, kiss your nose and take you into my arms to whisper ‘happy birthday, baobei’ in your ear, but i had practice really early today and you were sleeping so soundly i couldn’t bare to wake you, not even to kiss you and wish you a happy birthday. BUT don’t think i’d leave it at that! I left a little surprise for you downstairs and i’ll make sure to bother you with texts every second i can when you’re at work. Happy birthday my sweet baobei, i love you so much!

Your always loving boyfriend,

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anonymous asked:

"Maybe I'm just crazy" Annaleen? 💓💓💓💓💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖💖💗💗💗💗

What We’re Owed

Pairing: Annaleen

Word Count: 1078

A/N; Sorry this was so late, I hope you enjoy it! 

“Maybe I’m just crazy,” Eileen sighed, stirring her cup of coffee with her spoon as she watched the cream meld with the black liquid, “but shouldn’t children be grateful for their parents bringing them into the world? I could have just as easily gotten rid of the brat, and how does she repay the hell she put me through? Following her heart? What kind of bullshit did that stupid old man fill her head with.”

“I don’t know,” Anna sighed. Eileen’s eye twitched at the annoying sound, fighting the urge to throw the steaming coffee on her friend’s face. Ha, friend. She had been spending too much time with the damn ball of sunshine and teddy bares. Both things that Eileen thought were far too overrated and unnecessary, much like the woman she was comparing them too. “I think Wendy knows what she owes me for taking her in. She’s always leaving me these adorable presents and sweet notes. She’s not my favourite for nothing.”

“And when was the last time you saw Wendy?” Eileen asked, voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness.

“Hmm,” Anna said, leaning back in her chair as she thought. The afternoon sun made her pale blonde hair glint, tip of her ponytail falling over her shoulder, purple icing smudged on her lip from her half eaten cupcake. “A week or two ago, I think? She made dinner for me the night I had that big presentation due!”

“Anna that was two and a half months ago,” Eileen said flatly, rolling her eyes at Anna’s shocked expression. “And didn’t she put lemon in the chicken? You know, the only fruit you’re allergic to?”

“Oh, she didn’t mean to! And the hives went down right away,” Anna smiled. Eileen wished Wendy had shoved an entire lemon down Anna’s throat instead of just spiking the chicken. She had to admit though, the kid could be ruthless when she wanted to be, which was better than her own wasted potential of a child. 

Regardless, they were spending far too much time not talking about Eileen. 

“Can you believe that Erza would rather be a teacher than follow my lead as a lawyer? All that genetic material wasted by that damn conscious of hers,” Eileen’s lip curled at the thought. Why would she ever lower herself to help others? If anything, they should be begging to help her. Just like Erza should, seeing as she failed her original purpose of keeping her father under Eileen’s control. While he was a stupid and cruel man, he had been hers, and Eileen would rather see the thing dead than lose control of what belonged to her. 

“Makarov has always been a strong believer in those things,” Anna admitted. Her nose scrunched like a kitten when she tried to pick all the pink sprinkles off the remaining half of her cupcake. Eileen hated kittens. Ironically, Anna hated pink. Weren’t they such a lovely pair. Eileen scoffed at her own thoughts before speaking. 

“I can’t believe she fell into the one fucking orphanage that won’t sell to Alvarez after the incident at the Tower,” Eileen sighed, stirring her coffee more violently as irritation built under her skin. “I told him mixing ages would lead to those vermin getting ideas but noo, Zeref refuses to listen to counsel as always.”

Legal council,” Anna reminded her, popping the rest of her cupcake into her mouth. Eileen felt her lip curl in a sneer at the emphasis Anna put on the word.

“I have known the man for almost a decade,” Eileen spat.

“And I have known him since he was a child.” Anna said, “helping him search through the orphanages for his lost brother only a few months old when Zeref was already ten or twelve. Or do you think I would take in five children of my own will?”

“Seeing as how you abandoned your actual blood niece I suppose not,” Eileen said dryly, conceding to Anna’s hard glare. Eileen much preferred when the cold steel entered her boring brown eyes than the usual vacant joy. “How long was it until you dropped Natsu off with Igneel anyway?”

“I had him for a few years, but you know boys, so gross and icky as they grow up.” Anna said. Zeref had been very displeased with Anna at giving away his thirteen year-old brother, which meant Eileen had enjoyed the few months of bliss where Anna wasn’t able to do no wrong. Nothing felt better than watching others fail.

“You finally have an empty nest now,” Eileen hummed. Natsu had gone off with Igneel, Gajeel to Metallicana, Sting and Rogue to those disgusting saps  Weisslogia and Skiadrum, and finally Wendy had moved in with Grandine. It was exhausting keeping track on these useless children, but Eileen liked to make sure she knew everything about everyone that interacted with her daughter. 

“Not quite yet,” Anna said, wagging her finger at Eileen. Eileen wanted to break it, but focused on her breathing instead.

“Wendy has moved in with Grandine now that her tours are over in wherever this stupid country is fighting against.” Eileen said sharply. 

“What?” Anna asked, hurt clouding her eyes as she looked at her empty plate. 

“For two and a half months,” Eileen said snidely, a pleasant feeling growing in her chest as she watched Anna finally understand what had happened. Served her right for being so damn naive. “And now what you see what I mean about children being so fucking ungrateful? Look at all we do for them, and this is how they repay us! Leading their own lives as if they don’t owe us those lives.”

Eileen swung her hand out in agitation, spilling the coffee across the table. She sighed standing up and grabbing her case. She was due in court in an hour and half, some stupid reporter putting their nose where it shouldn’t be and trying to ‘expose’ Alvarez production. As if they were any match for Eileen’s tongue. “C’mon,” she said, not looking at the still pouting Anna, “let’s go see if we can convince that little brat how good you were to her.”

Eileen snarled when Anna beamed up at her, grumbling but not shaking Anna off as she slung her arm around Eileen’s elbow. Satisfaction curled in her chest, easing her need to kick something when she saw the waitress hurry to their table with a rag and step in a puddle of the liquid.

Cure || LRH

Originally posted by queenmichaels

Abstract: Luke Hemmings becomes known as your typical rich kid who gets away with everything until [Y/N] learns that he’s more than just his money when she starts to fall with him, acting on her feelings when drunk. 

Word Count: 4622 words

Request part 2

“Did you hear about the new kid in town?” Your friend, [Y/F/N], snorted at her own remark as you laughed with her.

“What new kid?” You asked in confusion as you both calmed down from her earlier remark.

“Luke something, I think.” She said as she bit into her sandwich causing a chunk of egg salad to spill onto her tie, “fuck.”

“No, I haven’t heard about this kid but clearly everyone else has.” You laughed as you watched her struggle to clean the mess on her tie.

“Well I’m just gonna have to smell like egg for the rest of the day.” She groaned as you laughed, offering her a few of your napkins which she gladly took.

“What’s so special about this Luke kid?” You asked trying to get her back on track.

“Apparently he’s psycho.” She beamed excitedly as you gave a very confused look not really seeing the correlation between his supposed crazy her happiness.

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At the beginning of Romeo and Juliet, Romeo’s sex life is as barren as Frank Herbert’s Dune (though judging by how the play ends, it really doesn’t get that much better once he meets Juliet). As he laments this fact, his motor-mouthed friend Mercutio shares this timeless bit of wisdom:

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar tree
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.
O Romeo, that she were! Oh, that she were
An open arse, and thou a poperin pear

(Emphasis ours)

Mercutio is talking about a medlar fruit, which was colloquially referred to as an “open arse,” for reasons that can never be adequately explained. However, there is no such thing as a poperin pear – it’s another old-timey play on words. Separate “poperin” into its three syllables and you get an Elizabethan penis euphemism – “pop ‘er in.”

Yep. Mercutio is saying, “What you need, my friend, is a chick who does anal.”

7 Filthy Jokes You Didn’t Notice in Shakespeare

20 Questions

Rules: answer the 20 questions and tag 20 amazing followers you’d like to get to know better.
I was tagged by @petesdungarees (thank you!) 

Name: If you want to know just message me (I don’t want people who know me irl to find me, sorry
Nicknames: I don’t really have any
Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius 

Height: 5'2" :(
Orientation: bi/pan

Ethnicity: Greek

Favorite fruit: Peach and watermelon

Favorite season: Winter (I would say Autumn but it’s not a thing here, it’s either uncomfortably warm or Not So Warm that’s it)

Favorite book series: The 39 Clues were my whole life when I was a kid, as well as the Gone Series? I wish I’d read PJO though

Favorite flower: Jasmine, roses and carnations

Favorite scent: Coffee and late spring afternoons

Favorite colour: Green

Coffee, tea or cocoa: Tea

Average sleep hours: 7 (4-5 when I have school)

Cat or dog person: Both

Favorite fictional characters: Garnet, Edilio Escobar, Dekka Talent, Sana Bakkoush, Dizzee Kipling, Buck Vu and Aristotle Mendoza (also Saladin Cahill,, the cat)

Number of blankets you sleep with: ?? Who sleeps with… multiple blankets… what

Dream trip: I’d love to visit my friend in Peru and go to places in Oregon with them one day

Blog created: A year and a month ago

Number of followers: lmao no 

I’m tagging @pizzamypotamus @dragonanimagus @therealbrandazzle @sadolesccent @blaine-r @pipetables @finallythebest @kingofthefailwhales @dad-dun @lhassinu @happyhappyphan @lovelylilaclester @imanerdokay @windows-eightfold @fiendxfyre @leoenjolras @fuckinggayassrock @aberrati0n (only if you want to of course)

5SOS Preference~ Exes

I’m not putting actual names for this. E/N means exes’ name. These are all going to be his exes, not yours. Some will be longer than others.



You’ve hated Luke’s ex ever since you could remember. During junior year, you were close friends with her. You told her about your crush on Luke, and she betrayed you. She went and hooked up with him, leading to a relationship. That was last year, though. You and Luke were together now, so that’s all that mattered to you. Luke was out with the guys, so you and your best friend decided to go clubbing tonight. You dressed in your best clubbing attire, and headed out to the bar, ready to party. You got there and your friend headed off to find boys, with a wink. You chuckled and went to get a drink and sit down. You weren’t planning on dancing with anyone, besides your friend, considering you were in a committed relationship with Luke. You’d have to wait until she was done picking up guys. The bartender handed you your drink and you went to sit at an empty table. You sat there for a few moments until you felt someones presence. You looked up to see her standing there. E/N. You rolled your eyes and focused your sight on anything but her. She grabbed your drink from your hand and held it behind her. “What do you want?” you scoffed, pulling your hair out of your eyes. She narrowed her eyes at you. “You may have Luke now, but he’ll come back wanting more. You’re just the rebound girl.” she said with a dry chuckle. “Excuse me?” you said standing up. “You may wanna say that a little louder.” you said, putting your hand on your hip. “I said-” she began, but you cut her off by punching her in the mouth. She stumbled backwards and grabbed her jaw. “What the fuck?” she yells over the music. Nearby people had caught attention and began gathering around. She regained herself and charged at you, dragging you to the ground. She sent a punch to your cheek and you groaned. You were done with this shit.You could beat her to death and you knew it. You flipped over so you were on top and threw punches at her face. She struggled to avoid them but failed miserably. You stopped punching when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You looked up to see Luke and the other boys standing around you two. This was probably such a sight to see. Your hair all knotted, dress almost backwards, and straddling E/N. Your eyes widened as Luke pulled you off of her, and helped E/N up. She brushed herself off and you covered your laughs at what you did to her face. She looked like a tomato. “Your bitchy girlfriend fucking charged at me!” she shouted. The crowds had all wandered off, and your friend appeared next to you. “Wh-” she began, but stopped when she saw E/N. She laughed and covered her mouth. She put her hand up to high five you, and you smirked, high fiving her. E/N screamed in frustration and stomped away. You looked up at Luke innocently and he grabbed your hand, dragging you from the club. He didn’t say anything, just led you to the car silently. Once you were both in his car, he looked over at you and began laughing hysterically. You raised an eyebrow. You thought he would be pissed, but here he was laughing. “You can fight, Y/N” he said through laughs. “It was kinda hot,” he said, starting the car and heading towards his flat, where you assumed you were staying the night.


You were at a party with Cal, celebrating 5 Seconds of Summer’s first album. It was being held at a fancy hall, which meant fancy clothes. You wore a white flowy dress that went to mid thigh, with silver sandals. Calum had on a tux, which he complained about the whole ride there. You found it quite amusing listening to him complain about dressing up. You were currently heading up to the beverage table, getting some fruit punch, considering you weren’t much of an alcohol drinker. You sat your glass down, and reached for the punch spoon. You gathered some fruit punch, and poured it into your cup with a small grin tugging at your lips. You were happy to be here celebrating one of your boyfriend’s biggest achievements of his career yet. You turned to put it back. When you turned to pick up your cup you sighed to see Calum’s ex, E/N holding your cup. You sighed. “You scared me,” you said with a chuckle, trying to be nice. You didn’t want to start anything here. “Can i have my cup?” you ask, extending your arm. She rolls her eyes. “You wish,” she says, taking a sip of your drink. “What the hell.” you say, giving her a death glare. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she began. You grinned, accepting her apology. You turned to get another cup but she grabbed your arm. “Let me,” she said. You smiled in appreciation, but gasped when you felt the cold liquid being poured all over your dress. Tears instantly sprung to your eyes. You were embarrassed, pissed, and sad all at the same time. You breathed in and out slowly to try and contain your anger without blowing up on her. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident!” she said with a fake pout. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and shut your eyes tightly. “Go away, E/N,” you said. “Not here.” you said again. She sighed. “No, Y/N. Here is the perfect place. Calum can see how weak you are.” she said. You turned and began to head for the exit, but ran right into someone’s chest. You looked up to see Calum looking down at you. “What happened?” he asked, seeing the punch on your dress. The dress was ruined and Calum had spent so much money buying it for you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before moving past him to leave the building. You didn’t want to break down in front of everyone.


It was around Christmas time, so you were out shopping, trying to find gifts for all of your friends. You had two shopping bags hanging off of your left arm, your phone clutched in the other. You were scrolling through the note you made, which had all the names of people you needed to buy for on it. You still needed to buy something for your best friend, so you walked into Forever 21, and began browsing through the racks of clothes. You browsed for a few minutes, before you felt someone’s eyes burning into the back of your head. You looked up, and turned around slowly, to see Ashton’s ex girlfriend staring back at you. You had never spoken to her, but you had seen photos of her before. You smiled at her, but she only gave you death glares in return. You turned around, wondering who stuck a pole up her ass, and continued looking for something for your friend. You snapped your head up when someone spoke your name. She was standing there, smiling at you, looking far more friendly than before. You grinned. “Can I help you?” you said cheerfully. She smiled and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, “Actually, yes,” she said. You nodded, telling her to continue. “You can stay out of me and Ashton’s relationship. All you are is the homewrecker who ruined everything we had.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at what she said. She looked at you angrily. “Why are you laughing?” she shouted, causing the other women standing nearby in the store to look over at the two of you in curiousity. “It’s just-” you said, but stopped to laugh again, “You and Ashton don’t have a relationship. Whatever you ‘had’ is long gone.” You said sassily. She scoffed and put her hand on her hip, trying to intimidate you. “Oh well. You’re always going to be a fat whore.” she said, walking out of the store. You stood there, confused as to what just happened. 


Michael had been distant lately, and it had been getting you down. He ditched a couple dates you two had planned, but he apologized profusely, and you caved. He also hasn’t been as cuddly as he usually is, which confuses you. He usually loves cuddles, and watching movies together. Your mind was filled with jumbled up thoughts. You were confused. You decided to go out to treat yourself to a personal day alone, to think and ease your mind. You just finished eating lunch at one of your favorite restaurants that you and Michael often came to, and asked the waiter for the bill. He had been flirting with you the whole time, and you politely ignored his efforts. You quickly finished your meal and left twenty dollars on the table, desperate to get out of the restaurant. You had felt like someone’s gaze had been on you the entire time, and it wasn’t just the waiter trying to get your number. You pulled into the driveway of you and Michael’s apartment and your eyes widened when you saw a familiar car parked in your drive. Mike’s evil ex, E/N. She was always trying to destroy your relationship and get back with him. It was obvious he was only with her at the time for sex, so you had no clue why she was so hung up on him. You quickly scrambled out of your car and inside the front door, to see Michael looking at something on her phone with his eyebrows furrowed together. She looked up when you entered and smirked devishly, as Michael’s eyes remained lingering on the phone screen in concentration. He looked up to you with an angry expression on his face and stormed toward you. “What the hell is this?” he spat, as he turned her pink, jeweled phone case around toward you. On the screen, was a photo of you sitting at the table and smiling up at the waiter. To anyone who was not there, it looked like you were flirting with him, but you were only trying to let him down easily with a smile. You wracked your brain for an explanation to the photo and came up with nothing except for, “It’s not what it looks like.” You had a worried expression in your face, yet you were still completely sincere and honest. Michael rolled his eyes and reached behind you to the coat rack. He grabbed his jacket and shrugged it over his shoulders. “That’s what they all say.” he mumbled. “Come on, E/N.” He said, before he stepped behind you and out into the cold air. You let a tear fall down your cheek as E/N shuffled past you with a smirk plastered on her face.