ALWAYS PEOPLE

It’s so annoying that there are generic looking skinny white people who are able to pull off a perfect cosplay of almost any female character.  And I think that speaks volumes about how we treat female characters in our society. 

anonymous asked:

MikoRei! IzuTotsu! Sarumi! All the couples lives in the same building but Mikoto and surprisingly Reisi aren't good cookers so they are always at IzuTotsu's place. IzuTotsu adores Mikoto and all but need their space so they take vacations and MikoRei is at Sarumi's place. Saruhiko is NOT happy ok? Oh, and let's say Awashima hears that and gives them a lot of anko. I would like Silvers and Greens scenarios like a little extra. Thanks in advance, I know this ask is pretty stupid :(

It’s not a stupid ask at all anon, I think it’s kinda cute ^^ So we have the whole cast living in one big apartment building, Fushimi and Yata are the young new lovebirds who have just moved in and are very cute and in love half the time and bickering like five year olds the rest of the time. Munakata is naturally very excited to welcome their new neighbors and probably tries to bake a nice casserole or something except he’s actually terrible at cooking (he tries to follow every recipe perfectly but then gets bogged down in attempting to get the flavors just right and in making sure all the meals are perfectly balanced. Mikoto doesn’t give a shit and orders them takeout half the time). Munakata also takes an immediate shine to Fushimi, which Yata finds sort of suspicious except then he can’t say anything because he thinks Munakata’s boyfriend Mikoto is totally amazing. The peacemaker between them are the neighbors on the other side of their room, Kusanagi and Totsuka. Mikoto and Munakata normally spend a lot of time at Kusanagi and Totsuka’s apartment because Kusanagi can mix drinks like no one’s business and Totsuka’s an inventive but surprisingly good cook. Kusanagi and Totsuka are also childhood friends on Mikoto’s so they don’t complain that much about having to host him for dinner so often (though Kusanagi’s not a big fan of Munakata and they occasionally passive aggressive each other over passing the dinner rolls while Totsuka smiles widely at them both and Mikoto pretends he doesn’t see anything).

Totsuka and Kusanagi have been pretty overworked lately so they end up deciding to take a nice honeymoon together, except Kusanagi’s slightly worried that if they do this Mikoto will starve. Munakata assures them that he is perfectly capable of providing food for himself and Suoh, thank you. One half-burned down kitchen later he’s knocking on the door to the Sarumi apartment, all smiles and sparkles as he asks a very perplexed Yata if he would be interested in hosting a little dinner party. Fushimi hears that Yata’s invited Munakata and Mikoto over and he is not pleased, he doesn’t like interacting with people, he finds Mikoto intimidating and he thinks Munakata’s kinda creepy. Yata’s like ‘I didn’t really have much of a choice, with the way that bastard kept smiling at me!’ Fushimi tries to make Yata go next door to tell Munakata that the dinner party is off, Yata refuses because that’s embarrassing and anyway he kinda wants Mikoto-san to eat with them. They’re loud enough that they wake the neighbor above them, Awashima, who shows up at their door and shoves a plate of anko at Fushimi and tells him that it will make a lovely dish for the dinner party. Maybe nearby happy polyamorous neighbors the Silvers are passing by when they hear this and Neko’s all ‘did someone say dinner?’ which is how they score an invitation to the party Yata and Fushimi didn’t realize they were having. Kuroh’s fully committed to bringing a nice dish to the party as a proper guest should, Munakata hears and isn’t willing to look boorish himself so he commits to making his own dish to bring (even though this whole thing started because he wanted to have someone make him and Mikoto food in the first place). In the end the rumor spreads throughout the apartment building and Fushimi and Yata end up hosting this giant housewarming party, much to Fushimi’s dismay because this place is full of people and they’re being nice to me and what the hell am I supposed to do now.

The only ones who don’t get invited are the weird guys living in the basement level apartment, some old dude in priest cosplay who’s rumored to be related to the landlord and who’s living there with his slightly creepy handicapped son, as well as a strange purple man and a bratty kid. They also have a parrot even though pets are against the rules. Team Basement is very put out at not being invited to the party and Hisui tries to send in this random white-haired kid who lives on the third floor to infiltrate the party and steal Kuroh’s amazing quiche dish. On the way white-haired kid runs into a returning-from-vacation Totsuka and accidentally spills ketchup on Totsuka’s nice white shirt before making a run for it, mayhem ensues as everyone else tries to figure out who ruined Totsuka’s best shirt.

Until a year ago, Rupert Giles had never liked ice arenas. He had been to a handful of Buffy’s friends’ birthday parties inside the Sunnydale Ice Rink, and he always found it noticeably uncomfortable. The metal seats were far too cold and hard, but the alternative to sitting on them for the duration of the festivities was to put on skates himself and join Buffy on the ice. He had tried that once, and he still had the scar on his knee to prove it.

Over the last twelve years, Rupert’s opinion on countless things had drastically changed. There were major shifts, such as his thoughts on the Watcher’s Council and what he believed his position should be in Buffy’s life, but there were also smaller and somehow more unexpected things. Now, going to the skating rink to watch Buffy compete was something to look forward to.

The judges announced that Buffy had placed third, and Rupert didn’t think he could feel prouder. She was one of the youngest girls in the division. He beamed at her from the stands, clapping with one hand clutched around the bouquet of blue orchids and white roses he brought, the color scheme matching the costume Buffy bought just for this day. She waved at him as she skated to the table where the judges sat, and he waved back, thinking about where he’d take her to eat. Perhaps Friendly’s? That place was horrendously loud and constantly overcrowded, but Buffy always enjoyed their oversized Sundays.

Buffy left the ice, going to the locker room to change and collect her things. After a few minutes of announcements and awards that Rupert feigned interest in, he stepped outside to wait for Buffy by the back entrance, a routine they did to avoid the noise and clutter of the main door where most parents met their children after events. He walked along the sidewalk, excited to see the joy on Buffy’s face about her victory, when he ran into the last person he expected to see; Quentin Travers. Rupert suppressed the anxiety and frustration he felt. He had enough practice hiding things from the Council. He was in a compromising position- at Buffy’s figure skating meet, bringing her flowers as a father would- but he had talked himself and Buffy out of difficult spots before.

“Mister Giles.” Travers greeted formally, nodding his head.

“Hello mister Travers, I wasn’t aware that we-” Rupert began, but was cut off by Travers’s hand signaling for him to stop.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long. It has come to the Council’s attention that this environment isn’t conducive to miss Summers’s training, so we have decided that she will be relocated.”

Rupert took a short breath and raised his eyebrows, now struggling to retain composure.

“…Relocated?” That didn’t necessarily mean what Rupert feared. They could be moving Buffy and himself back to England. That wasn’t ideal, he could imagine how Buffy would cry when she learned that she would have to move away from Willow and Xander, but they would adjust. Together, they could be happy in England.

“Miss Summers has already been picked up, she’s on her wait to the airport. You will be contacted if your services as guardian become needed again, although to be quite frank…” He kept speaking, but Rupert could no longer understand. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the man’s tone. It was casual, as if he was discussing the grammatical structure of an ancient demonology book. This was Buffy. She was important. She was critical. She wasn’t an asset to the council, she was a person. She was his daughter.

It wasn’t until Travers had walked back to his car that what he said fully reached Rupert. He dropped the flowers on the sidewalk.

Buffy had been taken away.

Buffy had been taken away from him.

He had to follow her. He could intercept them at the airport. No, no, the Council had their own plane, he knew that. But he could fly to England himself and find her somehow. He could, he could…

She must be so scared. She must be so alone.

Nobody there would congratulate her, tell her how proud they are of her placing third.

Nobody would tell her that they love her.

Nobody would love her there.

Rupert felt sick in the pit of his stomach. They couldn’t do this to him. They couldn’t do this to her.

It had been twenty three days since Rupert had last seen Buffy. The twenty three longest days of his life.

Joyce had cried when Rupert visited her house to tell her what had happened. She demanded contact information for the Watcher that Buffy was staying with, and Rupert’s voice nearly shook when he told her that he didn’t have access to that. He hadn’t the slightest clue who was taking care of Buffy, and not a moment passed that he didn’t think about that.

When Rupert told Willow, she didn’t seem to understand. She was a bright girl, and maybe that was the problem. She had become accustomed to fixing the problems in her life. Some problems, unfortunately, didn’t offer solutions.

Rupert couldn’t remember what he did with his time before Buffy. For twenty three days, he had come home from work and the hours stretched on endlessly in front of him. There were no practices or appointments that he needed to drive to, no late night grocery runs because Buffy simply must have Poptarts, and no seemingly endless conversation about Whitney Houston.

There was no life in his apartment anymore. Memories, but no life.

Rupert sat in Buffy’s bedroom. He did that for hours after that earth shattering day at the Sunnydale Rink, and now it had become a habit. Everything in the small room screamed so loudly of the different aspects of Buffy’s personality. He remembered her eleventh birthday, when they decided it was time to transition her room to something more adult than the princess theme it had. Buffy ran around the furniture store so quickly, Rupert nearly lost her more than once. She had been so excited.

The apartment was oppressively silent, so when Rupert’s phone rang, he jumped. It was probably Joyce. She called every so often, wondering if there was any news about Buffy. There never was.

“Giles residence.” Rupert answered, out of habit. He could have simply said ‘Rupert Giles,’ considering he was the only one living at this number.

Mister Giles.” The angry voice of Quentin Travers spat on the other end of the line. Rupert suddenly felt his blood go cold. Had something happened to Buffy? Would they even tell him if it did? “You are a complete disappointment to the Watcher’s Council. You have failed to train a slayer. Instead, you raised a daughter. It is clear that miss Summers will never be called, and we refuse to waste our resources on her or on you. You are hereby dismissed from the Watcher’s Council, and miss Summers will be returning to California tomorrow at seven thirty in the morning. Do not expect to hear from this Council again.”

The line beeped, dead.

Rupert hadn’t smiled so widely in what felt like forever. What had Buffy done to anger the council so? He felt pride welling up in his chest. She was such a brilliant young woman. She had always been able to do anything she set her mind to, he should have known that she would find a way home.

And she had found a way come. She was coming home. Buffy was coming home.

The memory of the last time Buffy fell asleep on him was vivid in Rupert’s mind. She was nine years old, and they were watching a VHS tape of The Little Mermaid that she begged for in line at the grocery store. She fell asleep halfway through the movie, resting on his lap. Sleeping on the couch always left him with a kink in his neck, but he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up.

Rupert assumed that would be the final time that he would be used as Buffy’s pillow. He was very glad to be mistaken. The two of them were lying on her bed. His arm was around her and she was fast asleep on his chest. She was smiling. He missed her smile terribly. He missed everything about her. But now she was safe in his arms, home, and happy.

Buffy’s blonde hair was splayed over her face, and Rupert gently pushed it aside. She stirred, but didn’t wake.

“I love you.” He whispered. He said that phrase more in the last twenty four hours than he normally did in any given month with Buffy. He knew that she wouldn’t have heard it once while she was away, but he couldn’t pretend that was the only reason.

Rupert never knew that he could love a person so much until the Council gave him Buffy, and he didn’t know real loss until they took her away from him. He was a smart man. He knew that he couldn’t tell what the future held, especially if Buffy was called. Even so, he vowed to himself that he would never let something like that happen to her again.

Countdown to 2017

So 2016 is almost over finally. And 2016 hasn’t been the best year but at least we had Niall and Niall certainly made it a lot better. I think for him personally, 2016 was definitely a good year. So what better way to close off this year with a tribute to Niall. From the 6th on, I’ll start with the countdown to 2017 in the form of a Niall Alphabet (so 26 days). I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to do this and if anyone wants to join then please feel free to do so, and definitely feel free to do it in your own way (with fics, graphics, edits, gifs- idk) The more love for Niall we can show together, the better this year will end!! He really deserves it.

anonymous asked:

Sometimes I get so passionate and defensive when I talk about Sam Winchester to the point that people remind me that "He's just a fictional character." Which yes, is very true and I am aware of that. But when you connect so much with a character, when that character inspires you, motivates you, makes you think about things differently, teaches you life lessons... How can you not be defensive and passionate? I don't even know where to begin with how much Sam has taught me and how I relate to him.

Well-said, Anon! Absolutely agreed! And a lot of these things we get passionate about have much larger and just as messy real-world implications. It’s more fun, and much less threatening, to approach those issues some of us face or have faced in our own lives and tackle them through fictional characters. 

Yes, all this stuff is fiction. Every novel, every movie, every poem, every piece of fanfiction of every ilk–they’re not real. But fiction stems from and mirrors life, and that’s what makes talking about it so interesting and meaningful. ♥

there’s no way for me to try and talk about my life without at least a day of stressing about trying to talk about my life

So I started talking to this new girl, and I finally got to the whole “so you know I’m poly, right?” conversation. And so far she seems cool with it. But I just wished it was easier to explain to new people my dynamic with Ash. I never know if people understand what I mean when I say we’re basically like old suburban gay dads who’ve been married for like ever and have no interest in having sex but share a chill, yet complicated life together and support each other in our other/romantic relationships. Like that’s the most direct and easiest explanation, but I know it’s extra.

jesus h christ, is it physically impossible for a dude to just be like “oops, my mistake” when they’re BLATANTLY GODDAMN INCORRECT and you correct them (which I always do politely and probably too gently bc I’m nice, dammit)

like they will totally ignore that they even MADE an error and just….. act like it never happened!!! which can lead to some very confusing conversations and me feeling like I am the one who somehow made a mistake or misunderstood

which I absolutely did not, goddammit

protip: quit it

Look I know they’re a sign of uninhibited consumerism and generally regarded as a petty display of opulence by largely middle class Americans but can I just say?

Christmas lights make me really, really happy.

I was tagged by the lovely @antivann!!! Ty bb!

Rules: list ten favorite characters from ten different fandoms and then tag ten people.

1. Fenris - Dragon Age 2
2. Katsuki Yuri - Yuri!!! On Ice
3. Lottie - Animal Crossing
4. Clarice Starling - Silence of the Lambs 
5. Solas - Dragon Age: Inquisition
6. Bones - Star Trek
7. Dylas - Rune Factory 4
8. Garrus - Mass Effect 2
9. Solaire - Dark Souls
10. Witch Princess - Harvest Moon

I tag; @jawsandbones @moviejunkie66 @havvke @br00dy-elf @foxnonny @dankou @graciessocksdrawer @oddlykia @templar-rutherford @cayllou

sherilapologist  asked:

💌

send me a 💌 and i’ll tell you something i associate with you

Rainy days, Mexican hot chocolate, and Sunflowers

the whole fandom debate on not drawing/writing about non-christian characters celebrating christmas is kind of weird and interesting to me, especially since i come from a family/religion/culture that doesn’t celebrate christmas?

i mean, i can’t speak for jewish people obviously, since i’m not jewish myself. so that probably has something to do with how my family and i view the holiday but. i dunno. we like christmas? we like seeing other people do it? we like the sentiment in a way? we don’t have a tree, we don’t exchange presents, and we don’t do any of the other trappings of christmas. and we don’t appreciate people who try and enforce it on us in a bad way. 

but. otherwise. we like seeing people doing things that make them happy? and i guess if i really had to describe it, it’s kind of similar to how white people go to a place like india and ~participate~ in the ~cultural events~ there, then go home to write a fond, yet condescendingly indulgent op-ed for the new york times abt how quaint the whole thing is, but bless their hearts, at least they have something to get excited about in that backwards, dark-ages country of theirs. so lets just let the white christians have this one, and we can go back to criticizing them for after the new years. 

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