#bank holidays

[ceevee5]

More bank holidays means more iron. St George’s Day (23 Apr). Trafalgar Day (21 Oct). Make Remembrance Sunday into a long weekend. A bank holiday if Charles goes into remission.

[yorkshire-rockchick]

Went to Tesco to grab some stuff for dinner. Due to it being a bank holiday and Tesco being shut on Sunday everybody is in there panic buying and getting in my way. It was not fun

[stellajones-blog]

Has everyone else had a lovely time on this Easter Bank Holiday Monday?

[lavendervirgos]

Let's just cuddle naked and if it slips in, it slips in

[taxationplanning]

Full List of Bank Holidays in November 2024

Bank Holidays in November 2024Full List Of Bank HolidaysYou May Also LikeGet Free Updates[Join WhatsApp Group] Bank Holidays in November 2024 The Reserve Bank of India (RBI) has released list of bank holidays in November 2024. There are total 12 holidays in the month across different states. So, please check the list before you make any plan related to visiting the bank branch. Full List Of…

[shrawfrog]

Bank Holiday Worries

Morning from yet another mediocre day in Clifton as far as the weather is concerned, thinking of getting my legs out in an ill advised display of pasty white mixed with pre varicose bulges, to be realised as a temperatural error by mid afternoon when I will be far enough away from home to make things inconvenient. It also struck me today that as the Wordle train clatters along, the number of 5…

[kc22invesmentsblog]

The Origin and Significance of Bank Holidays: Safeguarding Stability in Times of Crisis

Written by Delvin In times of financial turmoil, one term that emerges as a savior for the banking system is the “bank holiday.” This concept, born out of necessity during the depths of the Great Depression in the United States, has since become a crucial tool in maintaining economic stability during periods of uncertainty. The Great Depression of the 1930s was a catastrophic economic downturn…

[hattersarts]

hang the stars for me.

[la7ma-mafrooma]

Tumblr is showing me pro-Ukrainian blazed/sponsored posts but rejected someone's blazing one of my pro-Palestinian posts about Motaz Azaiza's being censored on social media. Tumblr is actively silencing the voices of Palestinians and has blood on its hands just like META, TikTok, and Twitter.

Stop the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

💙❤️Happy Holidays!❤️💙

[randlemartin]

they're bitching about you behind your back.

[thevvitchbitch]

[sciderman]

just a smoochie

[raineandsky]

#119

tw: wasps

The hero turns their attention to the supervillain on the end of row with drooped shoulders and tired eyes. “And you,” they snap shortly, “what’s your superpower?”

The villain sitting next to the supervillain snorts into her hand. The supervillain frowns playfully. “Do I need one?”

“I’m not a big pattern finder, but every one of you felons has had one so far.” The hero taps their pen near the bottom of their paper, where the supervillain knows their name inevitably sits in perfect black print. “What is it?”

“Does people management count as a power?”

If the hero’s expression turned any more sour it’d be unbearable. “Your real superpower, [Supervillain].”

The way the supervillain’s lips curl upward is an answer in itself. 

“You’re all here for a long time,” the hero says with a scowl, raising their voice for the other villains further down the line before turning their hard gaze back to the supervillain. “All the time in the world for you to tell me.”

-

A long time, in a hero’s book, is probably several lifetimes. For a villain, it’s a few well-spent hours. 

The villains blast a hole in the wall and escape into the night with whoops of laughter. The supervillain helps everyone clamber over the rubble, leader that they are, and is carefully guiding the last of their associates through the debris when a voice rings out from behind them to ruin the fun.

“Stop!” the hero calls, as if the villains have ever been good at listening.

Ah—that little twerp from earlier, with the tired face and the scrawling list of superpowers. The supervillain pushes the villain over the last of the rubble before turning to face their new nemesis.

They hold their hands up in surrender, their head cocked to the side. “Or what?”

The hero pulls something the supervillain can’t see from their belt as they take their stride pulls them closer. “Or I might get you in prison long enough to find out what your deal is.”

They step into a swing like it’s a waltz. The supervillain sweeps out of reach like their partner in the tune.

Just enough time to make sure everyone gets away. That’s all they need.

The hero moves in for another strike and the supervillain just about ducks their arm. The air slices over their head, and they finally realise that the hero’s weapon of choice is a blade.

“I don’t have a deal,” the supervillain says easily. “You must know that by now.”

The hero darts back from a swinging punch. “You do have a deal, because you have a superpower and you won’t tell me what it is!”

The supervillain lurches for the hero, like the melee will take their mind off the dangerous ideas they’re barrelling towards. The hero pulls to the side, just, their knife already poised to retaliate. The supervillain barely has the time to avoid them, and the consequence finds itself in a burning crimson gash across their arm.

“I have nothing to tell you,” they snap, careful to keep the distance between themself and the blade twisting in the hero’s hand. “Is it so hard to believe some of us are normal?”

“Considering all you scumbags do nothing but brag about how powerful you are—” Another swipe, another near miss from the supervillain’s face “—yes.”

The supervillain falls forward into another swing, but the hero hops aside like it’s nothing. The supervillain’s spent the last three hours escaping. The hero’s probably spent them sleeping. As much as they’d never admit it, the supervillain’s at a disadvantage.

They glance over their shoulder to the hole in the wall. One of the villains is lingering outside, watching with wide eyes and restless feet. The supervillain tries to make some gesture at him to leave, and he seems to take the hint as he turns on his heel and runs.

More time to make up for. As if they need to waste any more of it.

Looking away was a mistake realised too late. The hero leaps for them in that half second, and their blade scrapes a deep, jagged gash into the supervillain’s chest.

The sudden flash of pain makes the supervillain stagger. Another hero appears on the corner, and the supervillain knows this is over if they don’t do something now.

The supervillain swings their hands in a roundabout motion, their expression stony with concentration. The hero stops the other hero as she gets close, their eyes trained on the supervillain curiously.

The supervillain’s hands clap together. The hero flinches. Nothing happens.

Then, from the hole in the wall, comes a single wasp.

The hero’s gaze flits between the supervillain and the random insect hovering next to them. The supervillain’s finger flicks out to point to them, and the wasp starts flitting towards them. 

The other hero steps back like this is horrifying. The hero raises an eyebrow. “Is… Is this your superpower?”

“I control wasps,” the supervillain says tightly, like the words are refusing to come out. They kind of are, because they never wanted to admit this. “But only one at a time.”

The wasp gets too close. The hero swats at it and its beeline is disrupted, thrown downward slightly by the force. It goes too low, and the hero shoves a foot out to crush it beneath their shoe.

There’s silence for a moment. The hero looks down at their own foot like they’re surprised by their own actions. “How the hell do you get to the top of villainy with a power like that?”

The supervillain grins, like that’ll hide the horrifying pain of having to reveal their power at all. “People management.”

And the confusion of their superpower, it seems, is their saving grace—the supervillain disappears into the evening with two heroes staring down at the splat of the insect on the ground in front of them.

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the dreams that are @hedwig221b & @dear-massacre 🥰

Another week, another li'l excerpt from my current Sterek FWB AU WIP: you don't see me. Derek and Stiles are besties since college and roommates, and Derek is 'straight'.

-

"Don't try to swallow," Stiles says. "It can be... a lot, your first time. Especially for a straight guy."

Derek frowns. “I told you, I don't mind –“

A quick, high laugh from Stiles' smiling, pink mouth effectively cuts Derek off, and he abruptly yanks the supporting hand out from under his head to clamp firm fingers around Derek's bicep.

“Dude,” he monotones, "just trust me on this.”

Derek allows himself a beat to click his tongue irritably, but concession comes soon enough, in the form of a long, heaving sigh.

“Fine,” he grouses. “Just let me know when you’re close, then.”

"Sure, yeah, fine." Stiles' agreement comes out just a little bit breathless, and he squirms against the sheets as Derek knees his way in between his easily parting legs. "Shit. Okay. This... this is actually happening. Just – take it slow, all right? And be careful with your teeth, for the love of god."

The hot skin of the outside of Derek's thigh brushes, presses up against the soft skin on the inside of Stiles', and Stiles responds with an instant intake of breath, the grip he has on his own dick through his underwear tightening for a moment.

Derek feels like he's blinking through thick, sickly sweet syrup as he tears his gaze away and up to Stiles' face.

"Feel free to smack me around the head if I'm too terrible," he jokes.

Stiles rolls his eyes. The intensity of the gesture is undermined, slightly, by the bright flush that covers the entire expanse of his high cheekbones.

"Obviously I'm not going to smack you, Derek," he says.

Derek huffs. "I just mean, don't suffer on account of my ego, is all."

“I really don’t think I see any suffering on the cards here." Stiles pauses, head tilting to the side as he tucks one finger beneath the waistband of his boxers. "At least, not on my side, anyway."

"We should stop stalling," Derek rationalises. "This is already far too much talking for a decent blowjob."

Stiles scoffs, another finger slipping in to join the first. But still, they simply linger in that one place, making no move to push the item down, tug it away. Still, he just lies there, with the hard line of his dick obscenely visible through the indecently thin layer of fabric.

“Maybe I’m nervous,” he says.

Derek lifts an eyebrow. “You’re nervous?”

“Shut up,” Stiles says, a shaky laugh, a deep breath, and then his boxers are hurriedly pulled down to meet the bunched-up fabric of his sweatpants, his dick springing out to bounce against his taut stomach. “Okay. Fuck. Let’s do this.”

A snort escapes Derek at the severity in Stiles’ voice, the pinch of a frown creasing between his eyebrows. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep another burst of laughter from pushing its way out of him when Stiles’ mouth tugs even further down, almost comically downturned, at this barest hint of amusement.

Silently, Derek lowers himself, dropping his shoulders and his gaze until he can settle properly in between Stiles’ inched apart thighs. He takes in the length of Stiles’ erection, stiff and leaking a little at the tip, and he feels a hot simmer churn in his stomach, a vibrant current running underneath his skin.

Nerves, obviously. Simple, inevitable – nerves.

Enough words have passed between them now; too many words, just like he said before. And it’s without another syllable passing through his lips that he gets himself comfortable, reaches out to curl fingers at the base of Stiles’ dick to hold it firm and ready, and leans forward until he can wrap his mouth around the tip.

-

No pressure tags! @aurevell @crownofstardustandbone @lucky-bishop @renmackree @thotpuppy