abbie dumb


The 100 + heights

I’ve been thinking about FAHC again lately and got thinking about Immortal FAHC in particular and like…. I love those headcanons about how old everyone in the crew is, and how Ryan is always presented as the oldest/one of the oldest, like he was around to see the actual Ides of March and all that, but then I got thinking what if he was actually the youngest of the crew?? Like obviously he doesn’t look it, but then, none of them look their age. Gavin is going on 600 and he doesn’t look a day over 25. And the whole crew is like that - they’ve got decades upon decades under their belts, they’ve died more times than they care to count (Michael jokes that he’s probably died so much that he actually can’t count that high). And Ryan realizes this and just…. plays along.

Listen, he’s always enjoyed history, both in school and just in his own reading, and it’s almost ridiculously easy to get them to believe that he’s over 1,000 years old. Jeremy is half-convinced that Ryan is actually closer to 2,000 years old for the longest time.

and then one day, somehow, they get talking about the first time they all died - because, while the years and the deaths might fade together after a while, you can never, ever, forget that first time - and Geoff is going on and on about how fucking awful it is to get trampled to death in a fucking stampede oh my god guys you have no idea - and Jack cuts him off and asks Ryan, and everyone is half-expecting to hear that he got crucified by the Romans or something, but instead what comes out is “oh, I got stabbed by this prick with a switchblade -” “SWITCHBLADE????¿¿?” “yeah, it was the 40s, everyone had a switchblade” “WHAT??¿?????!!¿?!?”

and that’s how the crew finds out that Ryan is only like 80-some years old and honestly that’s ridiculous, Jeremy thought that he’d been the youngest for ages, and he’s at least passed a century now, oh my god Ryan, are you serious?????

they tease him about it for the next 50 years, at LEAST


@deathmeowtal  🎩: draw a character in fancy wear

I did both because I honestly couldn’t decide. Abby looks A+++ in a suit so that was an easy decision, but demon Pickles was kinda hard and, in the end, I decided he was sewn into the damn thing. Just given a shirt and jacket with an open back and someone honestly sewed him into it. Because wings aren’t fun for anyone.

Used reference for both, just random Pinterest searches. Honestly, if you search “women in suits” and “men’s fashion” you’ll find em.  

Someone got this picture of me leaving pride last Saturday and honestly???? Mood. 

father, i have sinned,
for i have loved a woman without fear,
loved her with all the fire of hell
burning inside me;
i loved a woman with open palms,
open legs,
rolling hips,
and no apology.

father, i have sinned,
for i have shunned your churches
and scorned your priests,
i have disgraced adam and eve
with my poisonous apple;
sweeter than your manna
and freer than your garden,
my own personal genesis.

father, i have sinned,
but you will not find me on my knees,
you will find me on my feet,
you will find my hand in hers;
i have loved her with defiance,
i have screamed from lips
that drip with love and lust:
i worship at her altar.

father, i have sinned,
and i do not ask forgiveness.

—  the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you | a.e.m.

Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer for Esquire

Do they consider Broad City a show for men? “Are you dumb?” says Glazer bluntly. “It’s….bizarre to view television, film, or anything as one or the other,” says Jacobson with slightly more tact. They spend several minutes on the absurdity of a status quo where the “straight white guy” perspective is the default entertainment for all Americans, and a “show starring a black guy is for black people, a show about women is for women, and a show about black women is for black women.”

Legacy!verse fic:

Title: The Idiot Bat And His Lady
Rating: R
Pairing: Terry/Abby

Summary: Terry McGinnis and Abigail Queen fall in love, fall to pieces, and put themselves back together.

Notes: This fic takes place in ash818‘s Legacy!verse, which you should ALL be reading. Seriously, run don’t walk. Also, I am going to hell for writing this, you’re all welcome.


In Abby’s mind there’s a clear point where it starts, and that’s the night Terry rescues her from HIVE agents and she kisses him.

It’s mostly a spur of the moment, utter terror meets utter relief, kind of a thing. Terry carries her half way up the outside of a building, because that’s apparently what happens when you get rescued by the Bat, and sets her down on a balcony and wraps her up in his cloak (again, something that happens when you get rescued by the Bat) and they wait for reinforcements, because he’s been shot.

Abby keeps her hands pressed to his wound, huddles at his chest, and he holds onto her tight, sort of absently petting her hair.

“S’gonna be okay,” he tells her, thickly, and Abby is so, so scared that he’ll die and is in floods of grateful, frightened, exhausted tears, so she has to kiss him. She has to.

She kisses all over his bruised, bloody face and then his mouth – just a little, just a couple of times – and then it sort of… lingers, longer than it should. If Terry had been less woozy from effort and blood loss he’d have stopped it quicker; if Abby had been less frightened for him, less hopped up on adrenalin from her escape, she’d never have done it to begin with. She’s twenty five, for god’s sake – not that doe-eyed twelve year old with the dorky crush on her brother’s deeply-age-inappropriate best friend.

But just for a second there’s a little teetering over a very particular line between them, and in that second the line goes blurry and by the time they stop it’s… a little more sideways than it was before.

Keep reading


War isn’t coming to Sleepy Hollow; it’s been here all along.

Ghostbusters and Objectification

Okay, I want to talk about Kevin from Ghostbusters. He’s the blond bombshell, the dumb blond, the insanely attractive, tightly clad secretary. Where he came from, why he’s there, why he’s the way he is, what he wants out of the world—none of that makes it to the screen. He’s basically window-dressing with no real purpose other than to have someone of his gender on the screen.

In fact, he really has no purpose or reason to be there at all except for:

1)   A prop for jokes

2)   Eye candy

3)   Damsel in distress

It is such a blatant wink-wink, nudge-nudge to the roles women have played in film for so damn long. (The only more blatant thing they could have done was kill him so the ladies had extra angst.) Even the ways in which the Ghostbusters themselves interact with Kevin is a really interesting interpretation of this phenomenon.

Abby- She gets to be completely annoyed and even angry over his incompetence, yet almost paternalistically resigned to it.

Erin- She lusts after him.

Holtzmann- She pretty much sees Kevin as a really adorable puppy she can’t believe they get to keep around the lab.  

Patty comes in after he is already hired, but manages to treat him the most human of all of them. Though she does embody the “We have to save our Kevin” role a bit. Heroic rescue and all that.

What’s interesting about this is also the differences that sneak in. While Abby is annoyed by Kevin’s ineptitude, instead of seeing him as typical of all men—‘they’re just not cut out for anything more complex’—she actually sees him as an individual. It’s Kevin who is dumb, not All Men. And Erin’s flirting and lusting is not simply a given reaction to Kevin or any man showing skin. We see it as skeevy, particularly as repeatedly pointed out by Abby and others. (“This is a law suit waiting to happen.”) But not just from a “the PC police say this is wrong” POV, but from an ethical standpoint. We laugh at Erin’s lust, but also are made uncomfortable by it.

And the thing that I can’t escape is how the pure flip of putting a man in a woman’s stereotypical role doesn’t really work. I mean, it’s genius at drawing our attention to how women have been treated for so long, but the fact is, we as an audience are really incapable of completely objectifying men. Even when everything in the role is about turning him into a one-dimensional trope, our brains can’t see him as anything less than an individual, a human, a subject. We have been trained from birth to see (white, straight) men as fully realized individuals. So in this film, he never fully becomes a caricature or an object or representative of his entire sex. We aren’t equipped to take that leap. While at the same time, female characters, even when they ARE given agency and their own story, are still easily dehumanized. It’s muscle memory. And if you want evidence of that, the hatred of the very idea of this movie, the disgusting hate Leslie Jones has suffered on twitter, and the True Fan Boy Tears that have flooded the internet should be more than enough.

anonymous asked:

#27 #32 and #70 with Tony dinozzo of NCIS??? Love your blog ❤

Originally posted by hayesxconner

#27. “I love you, you asshole.” / #32. “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.” / #70. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

You ran a hand over your hair, avoiding Abby’s gaze, “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend,” you groaned, “Like, I’m actually so freaking dumb.”

Abby grinned, “I think it’s cute that you like Tony. You guys would make a great couple.”

You forced a thin-lipped smile, “Thanks for not calling me crazy.”

“Why are we not calling you crazy?”

You jumped, whirling around to see Tony standing behind you, flashing a signature smirk. “H-how long have you been standing there?” you stammered out, feeling your cheeks flush bright pink.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Is there something you didn’t want me to overhear?”

You could just imagine Abby waggling her eyebrows at you. It was now or never. Steeling yourself, you stood on your tiptoes, tugging Tony down by his tie into a kiss. “I love you, you asshole.

Prompts List

Okay so I completely headcanon Erin as bi, but come along for the ride with me a second here:

Erase all that mooning over Kevin. Forget Phil. Now imagine that Erin Gilbert is as gay as the earth is round, she’s just infuriatingly straight-passing and hated that in college (Abby used to laugh at all the times men would back away from her red and stuttering when she turned them down in varying degrees of shameless: “i don’t do men” “I’m gay as fuck” “are you a woman? No? Than no.”) but honestly once she got to Columbia she buttoned herself up and kind of… took advantage of it? it was as simple in her eyes as keeping her dating life private, dressing a little more uptight and feminine, and taking platonic male dates to fundraisers once and awhile. Anything to “fit in”, feel “normal” enough to vie for that coveted tenure. She’d grit her teeth and bare it. It was just who she was.

But then the Ghostbusters happened. She starts living with these three women she trusts more than anyone else, one of them her childhood best friend, another pinging her gaydar so hard on first meeting that her heart almost blew right out of her chest… and then there’s Patty, who amazingly and hilariously feels no shame at sharing every dirty detail of the dates she goes on.

Erin starts “regressing” ecstatically back to her true form. She’s herself again, and damnit, the plaid comes back out (she’s never been beyond enjoying a good cliche) and she gets a little more carefree in her reactions to Holtz’s giddy flirting. But she doesn’t flirt back. Not yet.

She’s never had such a golden opportunity to prank someone…. never hidden her sexuality for such a fun reason before. She blushes and giggles and slaps the engineers arm but plays the part of the flustered straight girl.

Meanwhile Holtz is cornering Abby and asking something like “does Erin seem…. different to you? Did you know she likes Tegan and Sara?”
(Abby plays dumb because she can’t believe this girl’s gaydar is so bad and that her best friend is being so evil).

And Patty: “Patty baby, am I crazy or is Erin up to something?” (Patty has no idea either, so she helps Holtzmann not a bit).

Until one day, Holtz comes sleepily stumbling down the stairs on laundry day, in a plaid pajama pants and t shirt combo Erin hasn’t seen before. The T-shirt reads “say hey if you’re gay”

Erin leans against the kitchen counter, grins wide and shamelessly, eyes raking up and down Jillian Holtzmann’s form until the blonde gets visibly antsy. Flustered. Almost anxious.

And then Erin Gilbert nods at her and says suave and low as anything, “hey.”