but shit i don't even know what i was trying to say

''surprising'' facts about the signs
  • aries: reaaaaalllly fucking sensitive. that's maybe why they can get angry pretty fast, because they just take shit too personal sometimes, and they can't deal with it. BUT OTHER THAN THAT, they're actually fucking adorable and smol little beans who just crave love.
  • taurus: very care-free and they do not care about a single shitt. they're very hard-working though and they try to get shit done, but they are also very lazy, which isn't really surprising.. they are also very quick to anger, just like aries.
  • gemini: gemini isn't THAT two-faced like people think. they're just moody. they can get easily annoyed and that's why their mood can change pretty fast.
  • cancer: they're pretty obsessed with themselves and they can be really fucking cocky. they secretly like to make others suffer and make them feel shitty. they do it very slowly and careful though, so people won't notice it.
  • leo: really insecure, but never shows their insecure side bc they still want to shine in the spotlight, without people noticing their flaws, if they even have them because most leo's are flawless af.
  • virgo: they tend to worry a lot, still they don't really care about shit. i know that it sounds weird, but it's true! well, at least for the virgo's i know in real life. they tend to worry a lot about their work and school stuff, but they don't really do anything for it, but they also don't really care. however, they always seem to make everything perfect.
  • libra: they are reallllyyyyyy insecure in their relationships. they're usually a pro at relationships, but they are really insecure about it and they often don't know how to deal with them, or what to do with them.
  • scorpio: they are perfectionists. i don't really know if it's surprising, but they are perfectionists. i mean, they are very ambitious and that isn't a surprising fact, but just like virgo, they want everything to be perfect.
  • sagittarius: they are soft little beaaans. don't hurt them please. they seem really tough and strong, but they're realy sensitive. NEVER SHOWS IT THOUGH. you will never know when they're sad or anything, they always want to stay positive and happy, so they do.
  • capricorn: they seem to be emotionless and insensitive, but that's just because they want to be like that. they don't want all these feelings and emotions. but everyone has them, so they do too, but they try to hide it with sarcasm and sometimes even with anger.
  • aquarius: they have LOTS and LOTS of emotions floating in their head and heart and they just don't know what to do with it, so they just let their emotions destroy them, without saying a word. i don't know if it is a surprising fact, but i think it is.
  • pisces: isn't that innocent than most people think they are. they have a weapon which is called, baby face. they have this innocent little face that makes you think that they're all niceee and sweeeet buT NO. they're really good at backstabbing.
I still don't know if he ever got his coffee.

I’m not 100% sure this even belongs here and I’ve posted this story elsewhere so some of you might have read it already.

Some background: I work in a rather specialized area of Forensics. Officially I’m employed by Police Scotland but they tend to let other law enforcement agencies, universities, etc borrow us from time to time. A lot of the time it’s for consulting work or guest lecturing but sometimes we’re sent to teach training courses.

About 18 months ago I was asked to lecture at a training course for some of the CID higher-ups in an English Police force. It was the first time I’d done anything like it and I was crapping myself.

I met with the conveners and other officials for dinner the night before my first day, and after dinner and drinks, I was dropped back at my hotel.

So to set the scene; it’s about 10pm, I’m all dressed up in my evening wear and I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel lounge. The place is dead, it’s just me and the barman so I’ve taken off my heels and am unraveling my hair having just ordered a hot chocolate. The barman asks if I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. Yes, of course I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. No I don’t mind waiting while you run to the kitchen.

So I’m sit there trying to trick my phone into connecting to the hotels WiFi when Angry Man walks in.

He stomped into the room and slammed his fist down on the bar about 3 ft from me and barked out one word:

“COFFEE”

I didn’t know it but apparently that attempt at communication was aimed at me; a fact I learned a moment later when Angry Man moved right up next to me, bent over me so his face was practically in mine and barked out again;

“COFFEE”.

In an attempt to get away from the screaming coffee man I slipped off the bar stool, putting it between the two of us. Extremely confused and more than a little terrified, it didn’t immediately occur to me that he thought I worked there, hell it wasn’t even registering that he wanted a coffee. He was just repeating it the same way a toddler does when they learn a new word but don’t entirely know what it means.

I’m going to blame the confusion, fear and tiredness for my completely moronic response, which was to parrot the word back at him.

Me: “Coffee?”

Angry Man: “COFFEE”

Then he slammed his fist down on the bar again. This time I noticed that he was actually throwing down money.

My brain suddenly came back online.

Me: “Oh. Eh, the barman should be back in a sec. H-”

Angry Man: “Get me a coffee. Now.”

Ooooh four new words. Progress.

Me: “I’m sorry, mate, I don’t work here.”

Angry man (shouting now) “You fucking lazy liar!! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Yes, actually, but I’ll be keeping that to myself.

Angry Man: “Get off your fucking phone and get me a shitting coffee”

Me: “I really don’t-”

Cue rant about me being the only person in the lounge so of course I must work there and I was just being lazy and did I take him for an idiot. All while I’m slowly backing away from the bar so he can’t pin me between it and the bar stools. Then he throws in this:

Angry Man: “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have any idea how important I am?”

I never got to find out how important this guy thought he was. Instead Angry Man’s Friend came wandering in.

He took one look at me; pretty much cornered by Angry Man who is now screaming about how he’ll make sure I never work again while I’m trying to calmly tell him to back off and he tries to intervene.

He took Angry Man by the shoulders and moved him back away from me while asking him what was going on.

Angry Man: “This stupid little whore is refusing to serve me”

Me: “I really don’t work here”

Angry Man’s Friend: “She doesn’t work here. Let’s just all try to calm down”

There was a few moments of Angry Man’s Friend trying to calm Angry Man while he ranted about getting me fired until two barman arrived, one of them with my hot chocolate. The presence of the three men distracted Angry Man enough for me to grab my shoes and escape with my chocolatey goodness.

As I left I could hear him demanding to speak to a manager.

The next day, after being introduced to a lecture theater full of high ranking CID Officers, I stood and walked to the podium only to be greeted by one guy in the audience laughing hysterically.

I just sort of froze trying to figure out the joke. Did I have food on my face? Was my shirt on inside out?

A quick check confirmed that, no. I’d managed to adult that morning.

A few other people began to chuckle as this guy struggled to get a hold of himself. As he regained control he pointed to his left.

Where a very red looking Angry Man was sitting.

I think it was the sheer relief that he wasn’t actually laughing at me that caused me to open my mouth and say to Angry Man;

“Oh did you get your coffee in the end?”

He walked out and I didn’t see him for the rest of the course.

  • what she says: I'm okay
  • what she means: Can I say my shit? Can I say my shit? I've got lots of shit to say. I've got lots of shit to say. I can't fit my hand inside a Pringle can, I have a huge amount of trouble fitting my hand inside of a Pringle can. I can get my hand like four inches into the can but then I have to tilt the can into my mouth but then a bunch of crumbs have accumulated at the bottom of the can so they all go spilling onto my face. What I'm trying to say is the diameter of Pringle cans is way too small. I'll say it again. The diameter of Pringle cans is way too small. Two radiuses of a Pringle can is way too small. If you feel me, put your hands up, Come on! If you feel me, put your hands up! Look at all these hands that are way too big to fit inside of a Pringle can! Your hands are too big to fit inside a Pringle can, your hands are too big to fit inside a Pringle can. You think you can, I know you can't, you think you can. Pringles! Listen to the people, I am sure ninety percent of the complaint letters you get are about the width of your cans?! Just... make them wider?! I've overdone the Pringles thing, sorry. I want to have a daughter. I want to have a daughter so I can finally have someone around the house who can fit their hands in the Pringle can. Yes, I'm still on the Pringle cans thing! Yeah! I'll move on, alright? But that is priority número uno. I don't go to the gym because I'm self-conscious about my body but I'm self-conscious about my body cause I don't go to the gym. Irony can be so painful. That's a Catch-22. Let's do this! I went to Chipotle, I went to Chipotle, got myself a chicken burrito. I went down the line and I got all these ingredients and at the end of the line the guy tried to wrap the burrito but half of the shit inside the burrito spilled out. He still wrapped it. I was like, dude you should have warned me! You're a burrito expert, you should have told me halfway through: "Hey, man. You might be reaching maximum burrito capacity here" Do you fucking think I want a messy burrito? No one wants a messy burrito! The whole appeal of the burrito is that all of the ingredients are contained within the confines of the tortilla. I wouldn't have gotten half of the shit if I knew it wasn't gonna fit in the burrito! Alright? Look I wouldn't have got the lettuce if I knew it wouldn't fit! I wouldn't have got the cheese if I knew it wouldn't fit! I wouldn't have got the peppers if I knew it wouldn't fit! I wouldn't have got half of it! Like, I'm okay with small mistakes, if you've got no more chicken I'll take pork. But I'll blow my dad before I eat a burrito with a fork. I wouldn't have got the lettuce if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the cheese if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the peppers if I knew they wouldn't fit. Man, I wouldn't have got half of it, like half of it, like, half of it, like, half of it, like half of it right now,I think it's time I think it's time, I think that we break this down. I can sit here and pretend like my biggest problems are pringle cans, and burritos. The truth is, my biggest problem's you. I want to please you but I want to stay true to myself. I want to give you the night out that you deserve but I want to say what I think and not care what you think about it. Part of me loves you, part of me hates you, part of me needs you, part of me fears you. And I don't think that I can handle this right now, handle this right now. I don't think that I can handle this right now. I don't think that I can handle this right now, I don't think that I can handle this right now, I don't think that I can handle this right now. Look at them, they're just staring at me like, "come and watch the skinny kid with a steadily declining mental health and laugh as he attempts to give you what he cannot give himself." I don't think that I can handle this right now, I don't think that I can handle this right now. They don't even know the half of this right now, they don't even know the half of it. But I know I'm not a doctor, I'm a pussy, I put on a silly show so I should probably just shut up and do my job so here I go. I wouldn't have got the lettuce if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the cheese if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the peppers if I knew they wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got half. You can tell them anything if you just make it funny, make it rhyme and if they still don't understand you then you run it one more time. I don't think that I can handle this right now (Haa!) I don't think that I can handle this right now (Hoo!) If you think that I can handle this right now (Haa!) Right now (Haa!) Now, handle this right, handle this right, handle this right now.Thank you, good night! I hope you're happy.
Tower of Dawn

     So I think it’s time this fandom had a sit-down and talked some things out. Today’s topic: ableism. Before all of y’all start jumping on me and dismissing me and trying to say I have no right to talk about this, let me tell you a bit about myself.

     I was born with spina bifida. For those of you that don’t know that is, it’s when a baby’s spinal chord and nerves don’t develop properly. I had my first surgery to help this condition when I was eight days old. The excess amount of scar tissue in my lower back had begun to wrap around my spinal chord, which for obvious reasons is dangerous. I had the same surgery when I was four years old, and that’s when my life changed forever. I’d been able to walk before using a leg brace, but due to a mistake by the surgeon, my left leg was left paralyzed. I was a normal (and I hate using the word normal here, normal is an absolutely useless construct of society, but for lack of a better word at the moment, bear with me) kid, mobile and able to move around as I pleased, and then I couldn’t. I’ve been using a wheelchair since then. I’m not telling you guys this because I want pity. I don’t. I’ve accepted it as part of my life, and I love myself just the way I am. This little explanation is here so you guys can understand exactly where I’m coming from when you read the rest of this post. So with all this in mind, here goes my not-so-little rant.

     DISCLAIMER: I will be calling people out in this post and tagging them because I am done. 1000%, completely fucking done with this fandom. And if this causes a shitstorm, fuck it, because this needs to be said and this fandom needs to learn to stop being hypocritical pieces of crap.

     I love these books. I love Sarah’s writing in general,  and I would read literally anything she wrote. These books, Aelin’s story, Feyre’s story, are so important to me. I don’t have words to describe how much they mean to me. I love talking about them and healthy and constructive conversations about them. And some of the jokes that have been made  by the fandom are some of favorites. I’ve made some of them myself. I’ll joke alongside all of you about wingspans and gold nightgowns for as long as you want.

     I want to make something perfectly clear: this rant is in no way a reflection of my thoughts about her books. This post is exclusively about the fandom’s disgusting behavior.

     So let’s start with this post that I saw earlier.



     Disability is not kinky.

     For those of you that can’t understand that, let me repeat it.

     Disability is not kinky.

     DISABILITY. IS. NOT. KINKY.

     This whole post is horrifyingly ableist. And before you guys start claiming that “I have disabled relatives, I can’t be ableist!” (@rowan-stole-my-heart, I’m looking at you. Remember that conversation last year? Nice to know you’re still disgusting), that’s like saying “I have African-American friends, therefore I can’t be racist!”, which is such an inherently flawed line of arguing that it would require a whole other post to address, so I’ll just say don’t try it. I can’t even begin to fathom the mental process all of these people went through to think that this was even remotely acceptable in any way, shape, or form, so let me break this down and explain to you why this isn’t.

     This, my horrifyingly inconsiderate friends, is a form of fetishism. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, fetishism is the pathological displacement of erotic interest and satisfaction to a fetish. Now that you know what that is, let’s move on.

     This whole fandom has been complaining about a lack of diversity in Sarah’s books since I joined the fandom. Diversity doesn’t just mean POC, which is exactly what this fandom conveniently forgets. Diversity includes POC, people with mental illness, people with physical disability, LGBT+ people, and so much more. And when Sarah finally adds someone who embodies a slice of that diversity, you all have the gall to reduce his situation to sex jokes. All I can say is how dare you. How dare you reduce someone’s life and reality to a kink, to something to be made fun of, to something that spices up your dash and makes it NSFW just because you wanted to make fun of a book cover you probably weren’t satisfied with. In doing so you are insulting the thousands upon thousands of people that are in the same situation. You’re reducing them – reducing me – to a fantasy that you can use and then dismiss the next moment, without regard for anyone’s feelings. Do you have any idea how difficult of a topic sex is for people with disabilities? We are laughed at for wanting sex. Our anxiety when it comes to that is ten times that of any able-bodied person, simply because we don’t fit into the box that society wants to shove everyone into. And you’re making it that much worse because you have the audacity to think the fact that someone can’t move their legs is funny.

     It hurts. Reading that post hurt like hell. Because in your eyes – in society’s eyes – people like me aren’t human. We’re just something to ride, right? Yeah, I didn’t miss that little gem of a comment, @readinglikewildfire.

     And because I know this is coming, no, Chaol isn’t just a character.

     But you know what, I get it. It’s just sex, right? A small joke made, no harm done.

     Wrong.

     You’re perpetuating yet another harmful concept cooked up by a disgustingly ableist society. Sorry, but your privilege and utter ignorance are showing. I will concede a bit and agree that we can treat fiction for what it is – something that isn’t real – up to a certain point. But you guys just crossed a line. For those of you saying that you feel guilty for laughing, you absolutely fucking should, because this shit isn’t funny.

     The fact is if that post had been making fun of race or mental illness, then the fandom would have ripped these people to shreds and they would have been reported many, many times over. But it’s not, and instead I can count on my fingers the number of people that stood up to say this was wrong, because it’s just another wheelchair joke, right? Who cares? To those that did, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, especially @throne-of-omg-the-feels and @midnight-wonder.​ It’s nice to know there’s still some hope for humanity left. And to @nerdperson524, I agree with you. People do need a laugh, even those that live their lives stuck in chairs. But that post? It’s downright offensive.

     So that’s it. I’m done blowing things out of proportion, as some of you will say. If you think I should have approached you privately and messaged you about this instead of publicly calling you out, then maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t have PUBLICLY insulted mocked degraded an entire subset of the human population. And maybe that makes me a bad person. It certainly means I’m not being the bigger person. And I could honestly care less. I am tired. So sick and tired of constantly being the bigger person, of just staying quiet when I see things like this because what’s the use? The entire world is filled with this shit and it’s not like I can fight every time I see this kind of injustice. Nothing’s going to change, no matter what I do. But this? This is where I draw the line. Congratulations.


@crochanblackbeak @feysandsmut @the-bookish-soul @rowan-buzzard-whitethorn @abraxoswyvernnn @carrion-princess

some fox hcs bc i’m sick and it’s all i’ve been thinking about:

  • when they have movie nights, allison and matt have a competition to see who can catch more popcorn in their mouths. allison always wins so matt just throws popcorn at her without even letting her catch it
  • they all go team grocery shopping after finding out neil has never had at least 50% of the junk food they all grew up on
  • renee takes up crocheting and makes them all fox print patterned socks. they wear them every movie night(even andrew)
  • nicky gets homesick sometimes and when he does he makes a lot of the traditional dishes his mom would and the foxes eat all of it even though they literally saw nicky chopping raw jalapenos earlier
  • allison and dan are real housewives fanatics and they will kill a man to get to the tv. kevin still has the scars on his arm from where allison nearly clawed his arm off for trying to change the tv
  • the foxes do charity dog washing at a nearby pet shelter and neil literally almost gets smothered by the biggest dog there and that’s when the foxes find out neil is the biggest dog magnet
  • nicky makes the mistake of teaching andrew to bake and he never leaves the kitchen. but the tower always smells like vanilla so that’s a bonus
  • neil cannot cook for shit and i’m standing by this until i die. he tried making cup noodles in the dorm microwave and matt came back to a small fire and a calm neil just watching the fire blaze
  • neil twists his ankle falling down some stairs and matt uses this as an excuse to bridal carry him everywhere
  • “do i even weigh anything to you?”  “no, it’s like holding a couple of grapes.”
  • allison and neil take exactly 5 hours every saturday to go shopping, get facials, gossip. allison has video proof of neil sitting on a lounge chair with his whole face covered in a cucumber face mask, sipping lemon water, and getting his nails done. he looks right into her camera and in the most deadpan voice says “ah yes, the bourgeoisie.” the video ends with allison snickering and dropping her phone 
  • whenever anyone is late to practice they have to go on a run with neil and every time they fall behind is a lap they have to do at the next practice. no one is late again after kevin comes back from a run and passes the fuck out
  • the foxes went to disney world once and lost andrew. they don’t speak of it ever again. 
  • matt when asked by some sexist reporter why he listens to what the girls tell him to do: dan’s my girlfriend, renee could kill me, and allison has enough dirt on me to ruin my life until i die. also i respect them more than your crusty ass so that’s there as well. next question?
  • (matt isn’t allowed to do press duty for the next week after that)
  • kevin, five drinks in and nearing tipsy: if renee ever became a villian we’d all be screwed
  • the rest of the foxes except for renee and andrew: AMEN
  • casual cheek kisses are a thing among the foxes but no one kisses neil around andrew unless they want to lose a toe
  • it isn’t a question if whether or not a drunk kevin has acidentally called andrew “aaron”, it’s whether or not kevin actually made it out alive
  • nicky matt, and neil all have a shared exasperation for White People Food
  • neil and renee have been banned from nearly evershopping center within 50 miles of palmetto bc they wouldn’t stop throwing the knives to test how sharp they were
  • aaron and andrew play pokemon against each other(even tho andrew is more partial to acnl) and andrew manages to beat aaron’s entire team with just a jigglypuff and no one knows how he did it
  • once neil got really drunk and before he went to bed he kissed everyone’s foreheads(aaron left right after neil kissed renee’s) like his mom used to do to him before she went to sleep and it left everyone in shock
You wanna know what I find real cute?

I find it reeeeaaal cute that all of these aphobic exclusionists (especially the ones that aren’t actually ace themselves, pfsshh) like to spout that, “If you are Ace and are ‘Actually Lgbt+’ then we’re not talking about you, hon. You are Lgbt+ but only for your same gender attraction/non assigned by birth gender identity. The lack of sexual attraction isn’t a true orientation worth protecting. It’s a TMI modifier, you’ll see in time, you experience no real discrimination for being ace. Only for your real Lgbt+ identity! ”, thinking it’s a flawless, righteous thing to say to the “actual Lgbt+” people who are Asexual that they claim to care about and want to protect.

Honestly, not only does that type of answer sound condescending and doesn’t make any of their aphobia hurt less but do you know what it sounds like to me? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT SOUND LIKE TO ME, A DEMI-PANROMANTIC ASEXUAL WOC?!

IT SOUNDS LIKE WHEN WHITE FEMINISTS WHO IGNORE INTERSECTIONALITY SAY, “WE’RE ALL WOMEN AT THE END OF THE DAY AND OPPRESSED HARDER FOR BEING WOMAN SO TO TRULY FIGHT FOR FEMINISM YOU HAVE TO PUT YOUR WOMANHOOD BEFORE YOUR ETHNICITY AND LEAVE RACE OUT OF IT”, AND JUST LIKE WHEN BLACK MEN WHO CONTRIBUTE TO MISOGYNOIR SAY, WE’RE ALL BLACK AT THE END OF THE DAY AND OPPRESSED HARDER FOR BEING BLACK SO TO TRULY FIGHT FOR BLACK EQUALITY, YOU HAVE TO LEAVE YOUR GENDER AND YOUR FEMINISM AT THE DOOR.” THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK THE WHOLE, “YOUR LBGT+ IDENTITY AND ASEXUAL IDENTITY ARE/HAVE TO BE EXPRESSED SEPARATE(LY)” ARGUMENT SOUNDS LIKE TO ME!

And I’m about to tell you why arguments like that are ignorant and harmful and full of shit, if you’re one not smart enough to put two and two together.

I AM A BLACK WOMAN, A WOMAN WHO IS BLACK. IF I GO INTO A FEMINIST EQUALITY SPACE, MY BLACKNESS DOESN’T DISAPPEAR. IF I GO INTO A BLACK EQUALITY SPACE, MY WOMAN-NESS DOESN’T VANISH. I’M NEVER ONE AND THEN THE OTHER, I’M BOTH AT THE SAME TIME AND THAT’S NEVER GONNA CHANGE OR NOT AFFECT HOW I’M TREATED BY SOCIETY!

Similarly…

I AM PANROMANTIC AND ASEXUAL, AN ASEXUAL WHO IS PANROMANTIC. WHEN I’M FIGHTING FOR LGBT+ ACCEPTANCE AND VISIBILITY, MY ASEXUALITY DOESN’T DISAPPEAR. WHEN I’M FIGHTING FOR ASEXUAL ACCEPTANCE AND VISIBILITY, MY PANROMANTIC-NESS DOESN’T VANISH. I’M NEVER ONE AND THEN THE OTHER, I’M BOTH AT THE SAME TIME AND THAT’S NEVER GONNA CHANGE OR NOT AFFECT HOW I’M TREATED BY SOCIETY!

Holy shit!!! Why is that so hard for so many people to get??? Oh wait, I know why. IT’S BECAUSE QUITE A FEW OF THESE APHOBES AND EXCLUSIONIST ARE NEITHER WOC NOR “REAL LGBT+” ASEXUALS. THEY DON’T HAVE EXPERIENCES BEING TOLD SHIT THAT’S BASICALLY EQUIVALENT TO, “NEGLECT AND LEAVE HALF OF YOUR IDENTITY AT HOME, YOUR EXISTENCE COMPLICATES THINGS AND MAKES PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE”. THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO EXIST AS EITHER. HOWEVER, THEY STILL THINK THEY HAVE THE RIGHT TO IGNORE INTERSECTIONALITY AND TO SPEAK DOWN TO PEOPLE WHO ARE BOTH WOC AND ASEXUAL, LIKE ME, TO MAINTAIN AND ENFORCE THEIR OWN VIEWS AND IDEAS OF WHAT THE LGBT+ COMMUNITY LOOKS LIKES AND INCLUDES.

Damn ain’t that some shit, huh? In other news, I can’t wait for my point of view to be ignored and to be dismissed as just another “Angry Black Woman™” for bringing to light of how aphobes and exclusionists treat Asexual WOC like trash, regardless of their romantic orientation or gender identity. (Seriously, don’t even get me started on the amount of non-black exclusionists I’ve seen pull the, “Headcanonning Black female characters as Asexual desexualizes/oversexualizes them!!1!” card. They aren’t Black and they don’t know shit about the inner workings of Black politics or how misogynoir affects how Black women are view in relation to sexuality but they still act like they understand all and are helping, get the fuck out of here). So yeah, sorry not sorry for this long ass post but at first I was just tilted and now I’m hot about it. Aphobes and exclusionists are so fucking ignorant and counterproductive. Yikes.

I was at a con recently. And while looking at some of the art, I made a comment to a guy who had a collection of cat avengers prints that he was missing the best avenger. So he goes, ‘oh and who is that’ and I just kinda look sideways at him and say 'hawkeye, the only one you don’t have’. To wich he of course smirks and says 'is he really the best or is it just cause of jeremy renner?’

First of all… Jeremy Renner is a gorgeous human being and he is more than enough reason for Hawkeye to be awesome, so why the hell you got that smug look on your face like I’m just some random ass fangirl who don’t know shit about comics. I was fuckin dressed like Captain Marvel, 100% comic accurate costume thank you very much.

So my dad starts laughing cause he can see I got my 'fight me’ face on. And I proceed to list each and every reason why I have loved Hawkeye since waaaaay before the movies and why he gets even better with new movies and comics.

NUMBER ONE, he is the only fully human Avenger in every single story line.

To which of course I get 'well what about Black Widow’ well sir you must not know your comics very well because in the Earth-616 universe she has the Red Room version of the super soldier serum which gives her enhanced physical abilities as well as a very long lifespan.

Then comes the 'well Scott Lang is human’ well yeah but he’s got a mother FuCkiNG SUPER SUIT. What does Hawkeye have? Spandex or leather, not quite the same thing. And you take away that super suit, is Scott still a super hero? No he is in jail for being a thief. You take away Hawkeye ’ super sui… oh wait that’s right HE DON’T GOT ONE.

'But what about Black Panther he is human right?’ Do you know anything about comics dude? The dude eats a magical plant and is gifted his powers by the Wakandan Panther God and has enhanced speed, strength, agility, healing, reflexes, stamina, etc. NOT FULLY HUMAN he also is proclaimed King of the Dead and is granted the power and knowledge of past Black Panthers and gains the ability to control the dead… so awesome but still not human.

Hawkeye is 100% human 100% of the time (except a very brief moment when he borrowed pym particles just to help out on a mission) and still manages to keep up with super humans, gods and guys with fancy super suits.

NUMBER TWO, he is deaf, canononically.

'Well Daredevil is blind’ his accident enhanced his other senses… and not an Avenger… so your argument is not even relevant.

NUMBER THREE, he shoots a bow, usually a recurve, in battle with people that have magic and laser guns and other shit and he can shoot it with out even looking!

'But he has trick arrows’ wich are guaranteed to be weighted terribly and that weight changes depending on which arrow it is. So he not only has to compensate for the strange weight but he has to do it on the fly in the heat of battle for each individual arrow. Not to mention when he shoots multiple at once.

And come on, have you ever tried to shoot a bow and arrow, it’s not easy. It takes a lot of practice patients and skill. Especially to get as good as him.

NUMBER FOUR, I mean have you read the guys backstory? If you looked up tragic backstory in the dictionary, you would see a picture of Clint Barton. He was orphaned after his abusive father got into a car accident that killed his mother as well. Was sent to a children’s home, ran away to the circus, was trained by Swordsman and Trickshot who were not the best mentors, was betrayed and abandoned by Swordsman and his brother and left for dead, ended up severely injuring his brother, had to leave Trickshot, when he tried to do the hero thing he was mistaken for a criminal, was manipulated into trying to kill Iron Man, kept falling in love with women who didn’t love him back, left the Avengers at one point believing he was unwanted, was passed over because he was not super human, watched his brother die, was forced to leave the Avengers, had a bounty put on his right arm, lost former mentor Trickshot to cancer, split with his wife then watched her die saving him, sacrificed himself and came back, was almost assasinated, went to prison so the rest of his team could go free, was shot and conducted a suicide mission that saved the planet but killed him, lost his memory, was vanished into nothingness, doubted he was himself or even alive, faked his death, and that’s just the short list.

NUMBER FIVE, he ran the West Coast branch of the Avengers, as well as other treams.

NUMBER SIX, he took on the mantle of Captain America for a short time.

NUMBER SEVEN, Caw Caw Mother Fucker.

So yeah, suffice to say that I left the guy speechless surounded by his friends who were nodding along and adding in their own bits of info and laughing hysterically at him. I turned to walk away after that mic drop and heard him mumble, 'well I guess I’m making a cat hawkeye’

i have too many feelings about michelle jones so here have headcanons and peter x michelle

this was obnoxiously long because i have no control so lots of stuff is under the cut and it became very fic-like at the end there, whoops. parts ONE (this one!), two, three, four, five, six.

  • so michelle moved with her family to new york when she started high school
  • and mj was actually pretty sad to leave her friends back in chicago because it had taken a long time to make those friends and she always feels awkward around new people
  • so she isn’t very happy about The Move
  • she comes from a loving family
  • like, she gets kissed every night before she goes to bed, her parents read her bedtime stories until she was ten, she used to wear matching outfits with her mother, family movie nights were every friday
  • her parents were really good to her for the most part and just loved and supported her
  • they’re also pretty smart and since mj has pretty much always been inspired by them so intelligence and the acquisition of knowledge is really important to her
  • hence reading and academic decathlon, but she’s also into math and science too because she’s very driven and doesn’t have that many friends in new york so what else is she gonna do?
  • and her parents are an interracial couple and they’ve encountered a lot of hate and mj was always so sad when she walked out with her mother and people would give them weird looks
  • so she’s tried to end hate whenever she can and fights to give a voice to those who are silenced
  • but now cue mj going to high school in new york
  • she joins academic decathlon ofc because who do you think she is she lives for this shit
  • and then! there is this little shithead on the team PETER PARKER
  • like who the fuck does this kid think he is
  • answering all these questions, acting like he’s sooo smart just because he happens to know a lot of facts and is really good at physics and speaks spanish really well and also happens to be really dorky and adorable and okay maybe he’s kind of attractive too and maybe mj starts throwing herself more into academic decathlon and possible CONSIDERS joining band but that’s ONLY BECAUSE PETER IS A SHITHEAD AND SHE NEEDS TO SHOW HIM HE ISN’T THE ONLY TALENTED ONE OKAY
  • anyway

Keep reading

i. domesticity

I drink milk every day because my doctor says I need it to grow. Kind of like I need this calcium rush in order to make my bones stronger so I stop cracking them so easily. Preventing them from ever reverting to the weak, knobbly knees of last summer when a boy I had a crush on. Had a crush on, crushed me. Like a pulp. Into grains. Like a spoon grinding up soggy cereal swimming at the bottom of a bowl. I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering I didn’t drink 3 glasses today, and run to the refrigerator in my socks and chug it straight from the gallon, barbaric and yearning like a schoolgirl hitching her skirt up too high, and picture the white flowing through my veins. Softening me. Rounding me out. Giving me curves. I get a brain freeze instead and pray I’ll stop crying over spills and that I can sleep with this cold lurching in my stomach.

ii. vicinity

Maybe one day my hair will stop being so limp in the heat, but I don’t think that kind of thing can be anticipated, so I just have to wait. Girls like me live in the back of an un-air-conditioned convenience store, ratty sweatpants, tight tank tops, and crawl out with week-old receipts bursting from their pockets. Like glued ribcage kind of girls, like elastic hair tie, red marks around the wrist kind of girls. The cashier doesn’t mind when I snag a magazine from the rack and browse through it without paying because no matter how hard I try, I end up looking pre-pubescent anyway. And they let things slide. For a girl like me, at least. I’m saying, lopsided bun, wide eyes, a mouthful of crooked teeth, stars pulling them into their places, I was always too scared to get braces. The cover has some headline about how to enlarge your breasts naturally, which I think might be useful, and another about how to communicate effectively with others without saying hurtful things, which makes me laugh. I flip to the back to check my horoscope and eat that prophetic, adolescent shit catered to the teenage soul up like Eucharist laid under the tongue. Swallow down a spoonful of March’s: “Prepare to face some stress this month, but that’s okay! You’ll be able to get through it and find time to relax.” I want to rip out the page and shove it into my bra, like keeping these soft, meaningless words close to my chest will make them seep into my heart and change me. Stop making me think so much, fill my brain up with Arizona tea and static instead. But I’m cheap, and I shove the magazine back. I think my chest will stay flat forever.

iii. mobilization

I seek healing. Mending. I’m fingernails deep, sitting in the back of a subway at 3 a.m., pressing crescent moons into the leather seat, trying to dig up salvation. You can’t find that here, you can’t find that in the cracks between the tiles, you can’t find comfort in the ground up cigarette butt stamped into the floor. I’m wishing against this fogged up glass I could say anything, anything that would make sense for once, so someone could help me. Like please, my mind is bending in backwards, like please, I don’t think this underdeveloped chest can take any more of this resentment or it’s going to explode through my ribcage, out of my flesh, like please, I don’t want to hurt anymore. And it’s not my fault that I launch myself around like I’m in some sick little competition, pretending I don’t care, like I’m having the time of my life. Of course I’m not, of course I’m not, I don’t think having your hands shake and your brain go fuzzy whenever you think a little too much is fun, something to be documented for the world to see. I guess I’m different from other people that way, I’d rather people think I’m having a good time than actually have one without anyone knowing. I wish I knew how to sew, so I could stitch up my fibrillating heart, no matter how sloppy and crooked, but the needle jabs my finger as the subway lurches left, and I bleed, I bleed, I bleed.

iv. unearthliness

My mom told me not to walk naked in front of the altar. Disrespectful, she called it, and even though I agree, sometimes I test my divinity and emerge from the bathroom, the steam from the shower wafting off smoke like the incense in its pot. Young god, skin tinted green from fake gold. Young god, empty stomach, fruit scooped out of its rind, leaving me seedless. This hatred has roots, and I don’t know whether I want to dig out my insides with my hands or fill myself up until I’m close to bursting. I let people think the scratches on my knees are from a night of alcohol and a boy tugging my hair. Of course, it’s that and not child worship on a scratchy rug, not begging for forgiveness, not praying for glamour and glory, not hoping for. Of course it’s not hoping for something better.

—  this pain lasts in every location
Writing Tips - YOI Edition

I decided to start my little series of writing tips with a Yuri On Ice specific post because that’s the fandom I’m most familiar with. While I’ll make examples from the anime, keep in mind that most of these things can be taken in a more general way and applied to other fandoms as well.

These are only tips and if you don’t follow them that’s perfectly fine, your fanfiction is valid.


LANGUAGES:

Different characters speak different languages with each other, and implementing that in your fic can make it feel more realistic. That doesn’t mean that you have to include a full dialogue in a language other than the one of your fic (although a few words thrown here and there like terms of endearment are always good, and even a couple of full sentences are fine, just remember to translate them in the notes), but there are ways to show this even if you don’t do that. Simply have your POV character hear a dialogue and not understanding it, and asking about it later (or just wondering about it in their head). Another small thing is to not have the POV character be surprised by this (unless for very specific reasons): they’re used to being in international environments and to hearing different languages being spoken by other skaters, so it’s usually not a big deal to them.

Another tip is to understand what being bilingual (or tri- or multilingual) means. We don’t randomly start mixing two languages. The only instance where I’ve had that happen to me is when for some reason a word in one of the language I speak has to be in my sentence, then it might happen that I actually keep talking in that language. 

Example:

Gli ho detto che è bravo nel multitasking, and like-”

As you can see, the “and like” is some of those things we’re used to saying to connect sentences (like “you know” and other stuff), so it’s something easy to slip into if we’ve just said a word in English. You also see I stopped the sentence there because that’s what I feel happens, you don’t go on speaking in a different language for ten minutes, you usually notice right away and stop yourself.

That’s a very specific example of course, but what will mostly happen in your fic is that a character will switch back and forth effortlessly.

Examples: 

Yuuri is talking to Victor in English, then his mom brings them homemade katsudon and Yuuri thanks her and holds a short conversation with her in Japanese. Then he goes back to speaking to Victor.

Yuri and Otabek are speaking on skype in Russian. Otabek’s sister enters his room and asks him in Kazakh to help her with her homework, and he tells her (in Kazakh) that he’ll be right there, then he proceeds to explain Yuri what happened in Russian and they say goodbye and hang up.

Yuri and Victor are talking at the rink in Russian, then Yuuri skates towards him, and both Yuri and Victor switch to English to include Yuuri in the conversation.


Who speaks what language:

Generally speaking, all skaters interact in English.

Victor, Yuri, Mila, Georgi, Yakov, Lilia, Nikolai all speak Russian among each other. They might use English around other people if they don’t want to be rude to them, but in general they’ll have a tendency to keep speaking in Russian to each other, no matter how fluent in English they are.

Victor speaks fluent French as well as Russian and English, so it’s safe to believe that he and Chris speak French when they communicate.

Looking at the Japanese side of things, Yuuri, Yuuko (probably her husband too), Minako and Mari all speak fluent English, contrary to Yuuri’s parents who don’t appear to speak it at all. The triplets are 6 years old so they most definitely only speak Japanese. I headcanon that Minami doesn’t really speak a good English since he doesn’t appear to have competed much or at all outside of Japan, but I don’t think we have enough info about him so do what you want with him.

Otabek’s first language is Kazakh. It uses the same alphabet as Russian but it’s a different thing, but Kazakhs generally learn Russian and Otabek is definitely fluent in it. He’s also lived in the US and in Canada so he’s fluent in English as well. When he interacts with Yuri you should keep in mind that they’re speaking Russian.

Of course, when writing post-canon, it’s entirely possible and even very likely that the couples (or even friends, for example Yuuri and Phichit probably learned a little of Thai and Japanese respectively) pick up each other’s languages. Victor will learn Japanese, Yuuri will learn Russian, Emil will learn Italian. I headcanon that in some couples only one of them will learn the other’s language (for example I don’t think it’d be very useful for Yuri to learn more than a little basic Kazakh), but that’s absolutely up to you.

Another thing I personally like to do in my fanfics whenever there’s characters with different nationalities is to remind the reader that everyone has different accents. You don’t have to point it out in every sentence, but even just doing it once in your whole fic will make it feel, once again, more realistic. Another accent fun fact: at the beginning it’s hard to understand an accent you’ve never heard before, but it gets easier the more you keep hearing it. Try to think of ways to show that in your fanfic if that’s something you want to do.


NICKNAMES: 

Another important aspect in YOI is the use of nicknames, like Yurio or Katsudon. The thing is, not everyone uses them, and not in every context. If you want to use them in a fic and be true to canon, learn who uses them and why.

Yurio 

is a nickname given by Mari to Yuri P. to avoid confusion between him and her brother Yuuri. Yuuri, Victor and Yuuri’s family and friends are the only ones using it. Yuri hates it. He wouldn’t use it for himself, so avoid using it in your fic unless:

  • the characters I mentioned above are talking to him
  • one of the characters above is also the POV character (especially if it’s first person)
  • Yuri himself is complaining about it

Especially avoid using it when:

  • it’s Yuri’s POV
  • it’s the POV of someone close to Yuri or who knew Yuri before canon (like his grandpa, Yakov, Mila, etc)
  • it’s Otabek’s POV. He’s his friend (or more) and he would use his given name (unless for some reason he wanted to annoy him - which he probably would at some point lol)

Yura/Yurochka 

I don’t feel educated enough to talk about this myself, I could only say what I saw in the anime but you should definitely read this post because it’s well done and explains who would call Yuri Yura or Yurochka.

Katsudon

Only Yuri calls Yuuri Katsudon (sometimes he switches it for pig). Victor called Yuuri little piglet or something at the beginning of canon, but definitely doesn’t do it later on.

(Beka)

This is not canon yet, but it’s a really widespread nickname for Otabek within the fandom, that only Yuri (or Otabek’s family) uses.


In general, I think nicknames rub off on the people we talk to. So for example, when I write Otayuri I sometimes have Otabek think of Yuuri as “Katsudon”. Why? Because at least at the beginning he would only hear Yuri talk about him, and Yuri would refer to him with that nickname. He would probably not call Yuuri like that directly in a dialogue, but that’s all just speculation. I just added this bit because I think it’s one of the many ways to both build someone’s characterization and show instead of telling the kind of relationship two characters have.


Other writing tips: (coming soon!)

general pt.1 | general pt.2 | plot | dialogues | characterization

Don't worry, I've already rolled another character

Here’s the situation : In this game, our Paladin was basically given a character to play. The player isn’t much for pre-made characters and has a tendency to make more flashy and roleplay-centric characters and the Paladin (which he said ‘Sure I’ll take it’) has the personality of paste. Former soldier, not very bright, likes to hit things really hard, but otherwise is a very bland character due to the way he was designed. The player has been trying desperately to get him killed but keeps rolling extremely well in fights and damage, and the DM knows it. Now, at level 8, he’s staring up at an Adult Red Dragon who is demanding tribute.

DM : (as dragon) You enter my domain, expect passage, and yet you bring nothing of value to lay at my feet as tribute? Your insolence will cost you your lives!

Paladin : I have something. I’ve brought it far from the seas of Peralon, where we sailed in search of riches. Riches we found. Food, wine, gold, items of magical nature. Valuables even I have never seen before, and I’ve marched on many lands and fought on the soils of many kingdoms.

Dragon : And what is this tribute? This rarity you speak of? Is it gold? Is it weaponry? Magic stones? Show me.

Paladin : It’s far more rare than any of those. You can find gold and weaponry and magical stones in abundance. But to find one of these…. It is a purely one of a kind thing. (OOC) And I drop trow, squat, and leave a dump on the ground.

The resulting fight saw the Paladin crit the dragon 5 times, with good damage rolls and lots of divine smites. The dm couldn’t seem to roll well for the dragon and missed a lot of attacks, but eventually hit him with the fire breath and barbecued him. One other party member had joined him but the rest held back out of fear. To be fair this beast was way out of our league. Both characters died. The other players offered the paladin’s armor and sword and boots as tribute. The dragon accepted and let them through. The DM then informed us that the dragon only had 27 hit points left.

His new character is a charlatan Illusionist wizard who runs cons and has managed to get the city watch on our asses in three cities. But it’s been amazing to see him work in the RP. Dude should have been an actor.

anonymous asked:

PROMPT: D & P somehow get into a debate over who is kinkier in bed. Phil says something like 'Just because you have 5 vibrators doesn't make you more kinky. And yes. I know you have them. I hear the buzzing at two am bc I'm a heavy sleeper but you don't know how to be quiet' then cue rough sex

Warning!! Smut: Top! Phil, daddy kink, degradation, dirty talk, vocal Dan, bantz, dom! Phil, coming untouched (twice), coming in pants (once), etc.


~Thinking about it, Dan was almost positive him and Phil had rarely ever had a proper, real argument. It was usually about silly things when they did; anime, editing, memes, etc. Then when they did have an actual fight, it always resulted in them both crying and saying sorry. This time it was different, this wasn’t a real argument, this was leading into territory that hadn’t ever really gone too before.

~Dan and Phil had been joking around, sat in their lounge talking mindlessly about something, tossing back and forth a small bouncy ball they found and laughing. Dan was a lousy throw, missed, and hit Phil in the eye. To which, Phil replied with, “Kinky.”

~Dan snorted slightly and shrugged. “Nah kinky would be if I had called you daddy and threw it at you acting like a pissed off toddler.” He said pointedly, catching the ball and throwing it back. “I guess you’re right. I guess you aren’t as kinky as me then.” He said mostly to joke, throwing the ball back before seeing Dan raise an eyebrow.

~Dan gave him a questioning look, shaking his head before throwing the ball back to him. “Yeah I highly doubt that you’re kinkier than me, Lester.” He challenged, to which Phil smirked in response. “Just because you have like five vibrators doesn’t mean you’re kinkier than me.”

~Dan felt his ears turn red, looking away and blushing, not commenting back. “Yes I know you have them. I’m no idiot, I can hear the buzzing at like two AM. Or at least I would be able too if you knew how to stay quiet.” He chuckled softly, seeing Dan turn even more red.

~Dan finally looked up, shrugging. “I’ve always been vocal. I just figured you’d be asleep by then..” He trailed off, looking away again and blushing once more. “Dan, I’ve been your best friend for years and you still don’t know I’m never asleep at 2 am?” Phil laughed softly.

~Dan shrugged again, trying to brush it all off and play it cool. “I’m still kinkier than you fuck off.” He attempted to change the subject. “I don’t believe that for a second. Just because you moan like  bitch in heat doesn’t mean you’re kinky, or good in bed.” He smirked.

~Dan gave him an offended look, glaring a bit. “Shut up!” He threw a pillow at him from the couch. “Im plenty good in bed, and far kinkier than you could even dream of being.” He said, to which Phil instant denied. “Yeah no. I would ask for proof, but I don’t feel like being disappointed.” He teased, knowing Dan would get more riled up the more he went on like this.

~Phil chuckled deeply when Dan didn’t reply. “I guess I’m right. Dan Howell isn’t kinkier than me, and he’s shit in bed.” He declared, mostly to himself, seeing Dan’s face turn red from a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I’m great in bed. Maybe you’re the one who sucks in bed, that’s why you’re harping on me so much.” He accused, seeing Phil raise an eyebrow at him.

~Phil brushed off the accusation, leaning back on the couch and putting his hands behind his head. “Sorry, I don’t get affected by very wrong accusations like you.” He hummed. “Are you saying yours against me was false then?” Dan smirked. “No I still think you suck in bed.” Phil laughed, looking over at him with that damn smirk still plastered on his face.

~Dan huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at him. “And what makes you think you’re so damn good in bed?” He asked. “Mhm?”

~Phil laughed, giving him a small shrug and closing his eyes. “I’d bet money I could make you cum untouched before i was even close.” He said casually. “Hell, I’d bet money I could have you begging me for it within 10 minutes.”

~Dan chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah right. You couldn’t get into my pants even if you took me to dinner and a movie first.” He snorted.

~Phil looked over at him once more, pushing his hair off his face and sitting up, chuckling deeply. “You say that because you know it’s true. You know easily I could have you begging for my cock, whimpering and whining for me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk the next day.”

~Dan swallowed visibly at his words, trying to push them away and shaking his head. “Oh whatever.” He denied. “Don’t lie to yourself Danny. I know damn well you want me. All those cries of my name and daddy over and over again in the middle of the night. You always sound so pretty, almost like you’re purposely putting on a show knowing I’m awake. I bet you look even better.”

~Dan was blushing furiously again, shaking his head but not speaking. “Awe..” Phil smirked, moving a hand on Dan’s thigh and squeezing gently. “Getting all worked up, Dan?” He cooed, leaning over and biting his earlobe gently. “Thinking about how nicely I’d stretch you open, how much better it’d be than all your toys, having me fucking into you, holding you down and marking up your neck and chest, making you my property?” He hummed.

~Dan didn’t even try to shake his head in denial, letting a small whimper pass his lips as Phil spoke. He felt himself being pushed back, Phil crawling between his legs in a swift motion and ghosting his lips over Dan’s neck. “You’d like that wouldn’t you baby? My thick cock ruining your pretty hole, teeth sinking into your neck and leaving dark bruises, my cum filling you up nicely..” He started placing small kisses down Dan’s neck.

~Phil moved down the side of his neck, kissing gently, occasionally taking the smooth skin between his teeth and nipping quickly. Dan was squirming under him, quickly becoming a mess. “Fuck..Phil..” Dan whimpered out, hands gripping the older male’s shirt tightly. “What baby boy?” Phil smirked gently.

~Dan whimpered loudly, his head thrown back as Phil bit down roughly and sucked a few proper marks against his throat. “Fuck me!” He cried out without thinking, gasping when Phil’s lips detached from his beck and moved to his mouth.

~Phil kissed him for a while, his hands moving under his shirt and rubbing circles into his hip bones. Dan was whimpering into his mouth, kissing back messily as he wiggled under him. “Please Phil.” He whined when Phil pulled back from the kiss, watching the older male tug off his shirt quickly. Dan did the same, looking at him with desperate eyes.

~Phil chuckled and leaned back down, feeling Dan’s hands fumbling with his belt, the metal clinking and Dan’s moaning the only sound in the room. Dan’s hands moved back, his arms around Phil and his nails dragging down his back once Phil started grinding into him, hips rutting together roughly.

~Dan was coming undone too soon, he felt like a horny teenager all over again as Phil’s hips rolled into his own, the friction of his jeans and boxers against the head of his cock almost enough to send him over the edge already, just needing a little more. He moaned loudly, feeling Phil nip his bottom lip and tug it back, attacking his mouth again for another heated kiss.

~Phil moved his hand down quickly, starting to palm Dan through his jeans firmly. Dan was getting louder, his moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls and drowning out all other sound. He cried out, starting to cum hard, blushing a deep red as he did.

~Phil chuckled softly, smirking. “I guess I was wrong..” He hummed. “About..?” Dan panted slightly, feeling Phil’s hips still pressing into his own. “You are good in bed. So far.” He smirked, his lips reattaching to Dan’s quickly, his hips still rolling into his.

~Dan didn’t take long to get hard again, Phil having some surreal effect on his libido he had never seen before, not that he was complaining. He felt Phil’s fingers hook under his jeans, tugging them down with force until they were on the ground.

~Phil did the same, slowly stripping with him until there was a pile on the ground of all their clothes. Phil reached down, wrapping his hand around the younger male’s cock and starting to stroke slowly, his thumb rubbing over the tip and over his slit repeatedly, Dan bucking his hips up in response each time, desperate for the touch.

~Dan wasn’t quiet, he never was, but in the sexual aspect he was a vocal guy. He liked to moan, he liked to put on a show for whoever was fucking him, and Phil would be lying if he said it wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life. “Should we go to the bed?” Dan asked between kissing, whining and pouting when he felt Phil’s hand pull away from his aching cock.

~Phil gripped his ass, pulling him into his lap and lifting him up with surprising ease, carrying him to the bedroom with his lips attached to his neck. Dan felt his back hit the bed, Phil between his legs again and his hand fumbling to the side for his top drawer, finding the small blue bottle of lube and handing it to Phil.

~Phil chuckled, popping the cap and pouring a thick layer over three of his fingers, moving his hand between Dan’s legs and circling his rim. Dan shivered, his thighs shaking in anticipation before letting out a loud, strained moan when Phil slipped two fingers into him with ease.

~Phil worked his fingers in and out of the whimpering, writhing man under him, curling them slowly to try and find his spot. He smirked, hearing Dan cry out, his back arching off the mattress once he found it. He added a third digit, scissoring his fingers slowly for a moment before deciding he was stretched enough, spending a few moments rubbing against Dan’s prostate.

~Dan was whining at the top of his lungs, breathless, covered in a thin layer of sweat and his hair curling against his forehead as he was worked open. Phil was in awe, drinking in the sight and sound of Dan. “You sound so good baby..such a slut for me already.” He breathed, pulling his fingers out slowly.

~Dan whimpered, his legs wrapping around Phil’s hips and trying to pull him closer. Phil chuckled, smacking his thigh as a warning. “Don’t be a greedy slut or I’ll leave you here with a vibrator in as punishment. I could get off on my own, come back later when I’, ready to use your hole for my pleasure, just leave you hear unable to cum with a toy against your spot for a few hours.” He threatened, watching Dan shake his head.

~Phil chuckled softly, smirking. “That’s what I thought baby..” he said, stroking over himself and coating his length with the leftover lube, moaning lowly. He positioned at his entrance, pushing in his tip before pulling out, smirking when Dan whined and started clenching around nothing, his head thrashing back in frustration. “Beg.” Phil smirked.

~Dan pouted, looking up at him and whining loudly, no longer caring. “Please daddy just fuck me! I’ve been so good, I’ve been such a good slut for you. Please just fuck me, use me, ruin me, make me yours.” He begged, gasping and arching his back when he felt Phil push in suddenly.

~Dan’s whole body shook, feeling more full than ever, his hands grasping at nothing for something, anything to grip as Phil started to fuck him quickly, barely giving him time to adjust. It hurt, but in all the best ays. The burning, Phil hitting his prostate dead on over and over again as if he had done this a thousand times, his nails digging into Dan;s hips as he gripped them for leverage. Dan was in bliss, tears in the corner of his eyes from the intense pleasure.

~Phil was breathless, thrusting harder and harder into Dan, their hips slamming together each time he pushed back in. Dan was unbelievably tight, warm, swallowing his cock perfectly, screaming his name. He felt Dan move up, his arms around him again and his nails dragging down his back probably hard enough to draw blood.

~Phil groaned loudly, trying to keep quiet and enjoy the beautiful noises pouring from Dan’s swollen and pink parted lips. “God fucking dammit..” Phil muttered, leaning down and resting his forehead against Dan’s as he thrusted hard. “You’re so good baby..so good for me. Taking my cock like you were made too, all these pretty moans and curses all for me.”

~Dan nodded, rocking his hips into him as he was slammed into over and over again. “All for you daddy fuck!” He was almost screaming, unable to stay quiet for more than a moment, the build of his orgasm tightening in his stomach. Only a few short moments later he was coming again, white ribbons along both of their chests, loud shouts of Phil’s name and various obscenities pouring from his mouth at high enough volume he was sure everyone on their floor could hear him, but he didn’t care.

~Phil started breathing heavy, Dan tightening around him as he came for the second time that night, the feeling sending him over the edge. His thrusts became less rhythmic as he grew closer, Dan clenching tightly around him until he came himself, deep inside the younger male, gasping and groaning, his hips moving erratically as he rode out his orgasm.

~Phil collapsed onto him, rolling over and pulling out, hearing Dan whimper quietly as his cum dripped out of him slightly. Dan moved over to lean on him, looking at him and smiling a little. “Wanna nap and then we’ll talk about this?” He offered, seeing Phil nod before they both passed out. 



A/N: Can I just with the fact that I still always listen to Often by The Weeknd whenever I write lmao. This is 2.3 k, so t’s seriously official, I can’t write a short hc. 

anonymous asked:

Loving the text messages!! Keep up the good work! Also if you don't mind could you describe darks and antis personalities according to you?

Absolutely!!! Beware though, I’m about to wax poetic because I LOVE these two characters. I’m sorry that this post is so long but I’m NOT putting it under a cut because I worked on this for over a fucking hour instead of writing my history paper and I want at least one person to actually read it. :P

I’m gonna go a little in depth with what I believe is their canon personalities according to my interpretation and then how I incorporate those interpretations into Texts From Dark And Anti. Some of you may be surprised to find that I actually heavily take their canonical personalities into account when I make my edits; it’s not all just dick jokes and memes for the sake of notes. Texts From Dark And Anti is my love letter to these two characters, and I’ve gone to great lengths to portray them in the best way possible.

But enough babbling. Let’s start with Dark.

CANON PERSONALITY: Master Manipulator and Sexual Predator

Originally posted by markimemey

Per Mark, Dark is a master manipulator. He’s a snake in the grass, ready to tell you anything and everything you need to hear in order to get what he wants from you.

I’d argue that this often works for him. Obviously he’s a very good actor if he’s able to mimic Mark perfectly in the “Chocolate” ending, so that makes me think that he’s able to assume whatever personality and/or extend whatever favors he needs to to trick his victims into abiding by him.

But it’s also worth mentioning that Dark’s biggest weakness (arguably) is his jealousy. As Mark said, Dark’s extremely jealous of Mark, and he wants everything that Mark has: wealth, fame, success, and devoted fans. I’d be willing to believe that that last thing is what rubs Dark wrong the most.

Evidence? Mark’s fans are exactly what he goes after. Wanna know what’s freakier? IT FUCKING WORKED.

Mark took all of his fans out on a date. All of us adored him for it. Dark got jealous of this, so he infiltrated the date and tried to get us to support him instead. And when Tyler Mark showed up to fight him, Dark didn’t kill him himself. He manipulated us into doing it for him.

And what brings this home is that Dark has had the longest lasting potential out of anything to come out of this video. All of the other memes and references have lost their luster by now, but the resurgence of Dark-related fan art, ask/rp blogs, edits, and memes are still going strong. Dark infiltrated our date and convinced us to love him and worship him the same way that we do Mark, and we fucking fell for it.

So why does he do this? Is it just because he’s a jealous prick? Partially, but I think that, canonically, there’s more to it. I think it’s because he thrives on his ability to hold power over people, which is comparable to–get ready for it–sexual predators.

Dark exhibits a lot of the traits we normally attribute to these criminals. He’s attractive, charismatic, extremely manipulative, and sadistic. He says things like, “I can give you anything,” and, “If it’s dinner you want, I can provide.” Provide is an interesting word choice here, because that’s what society has dictated the man in a relationship should do. He even acts seductive: arching his neck, eye-fucking the camera, and he even blows us a kiss (see below). But the way that he grabs and shakes us periodically throughout his mental breakdown betrays his inner sadism and anger issues, also common among sexual predators. I absolutely think that based on Dark’s behavior and what we know about him, he’s totally down to fuck anyone and everyone in order to get what he wants–consensual or otherwise. And I definitely think he’ll enjoy it.

Originally posted by mirrorthehorse

I wouldn’t necessarily say that Dark is a nymphomaniac. As an otherworldly being, it’s entirely possible he doesn’t even have a sex drive. But sexual predators don’t usually rape their victims just to get their dicks wet. Usually, it’s a power issue; they want to feel like they have mastery over something, and that they are dominant and in control. Given Dark’s obsession with taking all of Mark’s glory away from him, coupled with his violent mood swings and sadism, I would say that sexual assault is probably just one of the many ways he appeases his insatiable appetite for power and manipulation. And I’d even bet that it’s one of his go-to’s.

In Texts From Dark And Anti, I normally portray Dark as a bitter old demon who doesn’t understand memes and doesn’t want to put up with anybody’s shit. But I didn’t just do this for fun; I did it because I could see Dark being jaded in real life. Off-camera, when he’s not trying to seduce us into adoring him over Mark, I could see him being sick of being overlooked. He’s old, even by Mark’s channel’s standards, and up until “A Date With Markiplier”, he wasn’t mainstream in the fandom at all–not fun for someone who craves the adoration of others. So he’d definitely be off-put by Anti’s much younger, more erratic personality, and in a bad mood he’d bitch at him for it. But in a good mood, he’d use it to his advantage to get whatever he wants–sex, souls, and anything else his blackened heart desires, both for the reward and the thrill of not having to do it himself.

Now let’s talk about Anti.

CANON PERSONALITY: Chaotic Psychopath

Originally posted by treblegirl

Jack has been near-silent on his personal interpretation of Anti (although he’s stated that he definitely has a personal canon that he refuses to share, the little fucker), so all of this is going to come from speculation and what we see onscreen.

While Dark chose to make his debut in one long, continuous, elegant appearance, Anti showed up randomly throughout the month of October, with no prelude and no explanation as to why he was there. Also in contrast to Dark’s smooth, charismatic personality, Anti is visibly unstable, jittery, and psychotic. Both he and Dark exhibit bloodlust, but Anti doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t hold back any of his sociopathic tendencies, going so far as to murder his host on camera for the world to see.

We don’t exactly know what Anti’s agenda is, but that’s just it: I don’t think he has one. At least, not one beyond the psychotic urge to kill as much and as many people as he can. Even in “Say Goodbye”, all he does is laugh at/condemn the viewer for not warning Jack and saving him. The other times he was on camera in October, he was glitchy, with several different appearances (fangs, gauges, blood, etc.) and contorted, unsettling body movements, making me think that Anti is a supernatural being that thrives on chaos and bloodshed.

But  Anti doesn’t just want to cause havoc–he wants to cause havoc and get the credit he deserves for it. That’s why he showed up so much on camera without Jack noticing; he was there for us, not him. Then he made a big deal about us not telling Jack what was going on, condemning us for our failure to make his existence well-known. Then he crashed Jack’s panel at PAX, angry at us for “forgetting” him. He’s not trying to garner our support like Dark is; if anything, he wants us to be terrified of him.

Originally posted by redthereaper07

But personally, if I had to choose between being locked in a room with Dark and being locked in a room with Anti, I’d choose Anti in a heartbeat. Because even though Anti is more obviously psychotic, at least I’d know I would be killed quickly–unlike Dark, who would torture and manipulate me verbally, physically, and possibly even sexually for an indeterminate amount of time. This is Anti’s downfall, I think; Dark disguises his true nature with seduction and charisma, but because Anti’s so unpredictable and surface-level, he identifies himself as a very obvious threat, ironically making him a little easier to understand.

Thus, my interpretation of him in Texts From Dark And Anti reflects this (albeit in a more comedic way). Anti loves memes and silly trends because he wants to stick out in a way that’ll gain recognition. He’s more up-to-date with Internet trends and slang because he’s much younger than Dark–but that also means that he’s more gullible, and a lot of simple things go over his head. Basically all of his emotions are double that of Dark’s, and he makes no efforts to disguise them. He’s also much more privvy to senseless murder than Dark. This speaks highly of his psychotic tendencies and general disregard for any order or secrets he could be bothering to keep. What you see of Anti is what you get: an easily-excitable, always-ready-to-fuck-shit-up killing machine.

Originally posted by markired

So…yeah. That’s pretty much my piece. Told you it’d be long. X’D

But tysm for asking!! And if any of you bothered reading this far, PLEASE reblog or leave a reply with your thoughts on my interpretation of these two characters and how you characterize them personally. I’m super crazy interested in the lore around these two (or lack thereof), which is why I created Texts From Dark And Anti in the first place. ^_^

I still don't know if he ever got his coffee

I’m not 100% sure this even belongs here and I’ve posted this story elsewhere so some of you might have read it already.

Some background: I work in a rather specialised area of Forensics. Officially I’m employed by Police Scotland but they tend to let other law enforcement agencies, universities, etc borrow us from time to time. A lot of the time it’s for consulting work or guest lecturing but sometimes we’re sent to teach training courses.

About 18 months ago I was asked to lecture at a training course for some of the CID higher-ups in an English Police force. It was the first time I’d done anything like it and I was crapping myself.

I met with the conveners and other officials for dinner the night before my first day, and after dinner and drinks, I was dropped back at my hotel.

So to set the scene; it’s about 10pm, I’m all dressed up in my evening wear and I’m sitting at the bar in the hotel lounge. The place is dead, it’s just me and the barman so I’ve taken off my heels and am unraveling my hair having just ordered a hot chocolate. The barman asks if I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. Yes, of course I want mini marshmallows on my hot chocolate. No I don’t mind waiting while you run to the kitchen.

So I’m sit there trying to trick my phone into connecting to the hotels WiFi when Angry Man walks in.

He stomped into the room and slammed his fist down on the bar about 3 ft from me and barked out one word:

“COFFEE”

I didn’t know it but apparently that attempt at communication was aimed at me; a fact I learned a moment later when Angry Man moved right up next to me, bent over me so his face was practically in mine and barked out again;

“COFFEE”.

In an attempt to get away from the screaming coffee man I slipped off the bar stool, putting it between the two of us. Extremely confused and more than a little terrified, it didn’t immediately occur to me that he thought I worked there, hell it wasn’t even registering that he wanted a coffee. He was just repeating it the same way a toddler does when they learn a new word but don’t entirely know what it means.

I’m going to blame the confusion, fear and tiredness for my completely moronic response, which was to parrot the word back at him.

Me: “Coffee?”

Angry Man: “COFFEE”

Then he slammed his fist down on the bar again. This time I noticed that he was actually throwing down money.

My brain suddenly came back online.

Me: “Oh. Eh, the barman should be back in a sec. H-”

Angry Man: “Get me a coffee. Now.”

Ooooh four new words. Progress.

Me: “I’m sorry, mate, I don’t work here.”

Angry man (shouting now) “You fucking lazy liar!! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Yes, actually, but I’ll be keeping that to myself.

Angry Man: “Get off your fucking phone and get me a shitting coffee”

Me: “I really don’t-”

Cue rant about me being the only person in the lounge so of course I must work there and I was just being lazy and did I take him for an idiot. All while I’m slowly backing away from the bar so he can’t pin me between it and the bar stools. Then he throws in this:

Angry Man: “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have any idea how important I am?”

I never got to find out how important this guy thought he was. Instead Angry Man’s Friend came wandering in.

He took one look at me; pretty much cornered by Angry Man who is now screaming about how he’ll make sure I never work again while I’m trying to calmly tell him to back off and he tries to intervene.

He took Angry Man by the shoulders and moved him back away from me while asking him what was going on.

Angry Man: “This stupid little whore is refusing to serve me”

Me: “I really don’t work here”

Angry Man’s Friend: “She doesn’t work here. Let’s just all try to calm down”

There was a few moments of Angry Man’s Friend trying to calm Angry Man while he ranted about getting me fired until two barman arrived, one of them with my hot chocolate. The presence of the three men distracted Angry Man enough for me to grab my shoes and escape with my chocolatey goodness.

As I left I could hear him demanding to speak to a manager.

The next day, after being introduced to a lecture theatre full of high ranking CID Officers, I stood and walked to the podium only to be greeted by one guy in the audience laughing hysterically.

I just sort of froze trying to figure out the joke. Did I have food on my face? Was my shirt on inside out?

A quick check confirmed that, no. I’d managed to adult that morning.

A few other people began to chuckle as this guy struggled to get a hold of himself. As he regained control he pointed to his left.

Where a very red looking Angry Man was sitting.

I think it was the sheer relief that he wasn’t actually laughing at me that caused me to open my mouth and say to Angry Man;

“Oh did you get your coffee in the end?”

He walked out and I didn’t see him for the rest of the course.

0n-y0ur-left  asked:

The "Don't tell anyone you saw me crying" AU sounds super promising!

The best part of Steve’s day is, generally when he gets to go eat lunch in the abandoned teacher’s office on the third floor. It’s quiet up there, and it’s not so dusty now that one of the custodians noticed him hanging out there and comes around to clean it up every so often. So, all in all, not a bad place to quietly eat his lunch, do some homework, and maybe get a bit of drawing done, if he’s up to it.

Except today, apparently.

After the bell rings and fifth period starts, Steve makes his way up to the abandoned teacher’s lounge. He’s got a cheese sandwich, apple slices and a can of Diet Sprite that he’s excited to eat, and a drawing of one of his classmates — a guy who probably doesn’t even know Steve exists, let alone would want Steve drawing him, but that’s the one good thing about being invisible — that he’s excited to finish up. But when he gets to his abandoned teacher’s office, he hears someone…

Well, he hears someone crying.

Still, it’s his abandoned teacher’s office — he doesn’t have much else to take ownership of at this school, so he’ll take what he can get — so he enters anyway.

“What the hell?” Bucky Barnes says, furiously wiping off his face with the sleeve of his henley.

“Oh, uh,” Steve says, clutching the sketchbook that has an in-progress drawing of Bucky Freaking Barnes in it tight.

“Come to laugh at me?” Bucky asks with a rueful chuckle.

“What? No,” Steve says, maybe a little fiercer than he should.

“Then what?” Bucky asks.

“I eat lunch here every day,” Steve says, straightening up. He may only be five foot four and weigh the same as a wet dachshund, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be intimidating!

He does wish that his beanie would quit sliding down his head and hiding his eyebrows. Having visible eyebrows would probably help the intimidating factor.

“You eat… here?” Bucky asks, looking around the dim room like he’s really seeing it for the first time. He grimaces.

Steve pushes his beanie back. “You’re here crying!” Steve argues.

“Yeah, but I’ve only been here a couple times. You’re here every day.”

Steve scoffs. “Are you trying to contest who of the two of us is less pathetic, because that’s probably a pretty easy fight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky asks, voice getting louder.

“You have everything — friends, football, popularity. I just want to eat my cheese sandwich and listen to my iPod during lunchtime without having to confront crying jocks.”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then his face screws up. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he says, starting to cry again.

“Oh jeez,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and taking a few steps across the room, closer to the desk Bucky is sitting at. “Don’t… Cry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t… it’s not your fault,” Bucky says, burying his face in his hands.

Steve drops his backpack and kneels down, digging through it. After about forty seconds, he emerges victorious with a half-used pack of tissues. “Here,” he says, handing them out to Bucky.

Bucky looks up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Really?” he asks. Steve nods. Bucky reaches out and takes the tissues from him. “Thanks,” he says, pulling one free from the package and loudly blowing his nose.

“No problem,” Steve says, trying not to be grossed out, though he can’t help but cringe a little when Bucky looks back up with a line of snot dripping out of his nose. “You oughta…” he says, gesturing to his nose.

“Shit,” Bucky says, wiping his nose again.

“Then again, if you’re sporting snot, I’m sure the rest of the school will follow,” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I’m not… It’s not like that.”

“That’s not what it looks from the outside,” Steve says, quiet.

Bucky gives him a little half-smile. “I’m just gonna tell you this because I feel like this abandoned teacher’s lounge is a safe, trustworthy space, okay? And because I feel like you won’t blab to a bunch of people, but everyone fuckin’ hates me.”

“Really?” Steve asks, deadpan.

Bucky nods. “It’s… Well, they may not think they hate me, but they do.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s because you’re too beautiful. If you do, I may scream,” Steve says and is rewarded when Bucky laughs.

“You’re spitfire,” he says. “Anyhow, I’m gay, and they’d fuckin’ hate me if they knew.”

There’s a long pause.

“You’re gay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods, mouth flattening. “It feels real weird to say it out loud,” he admits.

Steve’s mouth drops. “I’m the first person you’ve told?” he asks, surprised.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t got anyone to tell. My old man’s a homophobic asswipe who’d kick my ass if he knew, and it’s not like I’m gonna tell the guys on the football team that I like guys. They’d take turns kickin’ my ass and leave me a bloody lump on the field.”

Swallowing hard, Steve takes a seat close to Bucky’s. “That’s… a lot,” he says.

“I know,” Bucky says. “Which is why I feel justified to stay in this abandoned teacher’s lounge and cry for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a long pause.

“Can I eat my sandwich while you do so?”

Bucky snorts. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s live it up. Cheese sandwiches and tears, quite the couple.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” he says, pulling his sandwich from his backpack and splitting it in half. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky says, grabbing the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

— —

“Hey,” Bucky says as the bell for sixth period rings.

“Yeah?” Steve says, packing his stuff up.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow? Maybe without the crying?”

Steve smiles. “Sure,” he says.

— —

In a week, Bucky is letting Steve draw him.

In a month, Steve is letting Bucky kiss him.

In a year, they walk around their college campus hand-in-hand.

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

anonymous asked:

what about when the realize how brutal humans can be? like we don't always go for the physical attacks sometimes we attack them mentally with verbal attacks...

Hmm…that will most definitely happen.

Hope you enjoy this little blurb.

Also, some stronger language will be used here, just so ya’ know. And mention of alcohol abuse and suicide. If you are sensitive of that, don’t read it. It’s not directly said, but it is implied.


The tight bonds that held Xylion tentacles behind his back were really starting to hurt. Not only that, but the gloves he used to stop his mucus from affecting anything were still on, making it almost impossible for him to wriggle out. He was peeved, to say the least.

Captain Zellnor was next to him, his long face hung. His red eyes were closed, almost as if he was sleeping. Well, seeing that he had been injected with a sleep inducer, it made sense. Xylion, however, was wide awake, forced to sit in an uncomfortable silence next to his unconscious boss.

The rest of the crew was somewhere on the ship, tied up as well. At least, so the pirate guarding him said.

He was of the Roachon species. He had mandibles and antennae, and six arms. The species was known for it’s ability to survive many different physical attacks from anything. Not to mention they had extremely powerful weapons too. Their species loved to steal. Instead of making their own, they’d much rather steal ships and weapons, and then improve them. No one wanted to be captured by them. They were practically invincible.

Xylion looked up at the pirate, trying to see if there was anyway to escape. The Roachonian didn’t look particularly weak, so there was no way for him to overpower him. Of course, even if he could overpower him, he was still tied up, and the powerhouse Captain was passed out, unable to help.

He hung his head, sadness filling him. There was no way he’d be able to get free. He was screwed. Xylion sighed.

The only thing he could think of was his family, and how sad they’d be when they saw he was no longer amongst the living. How they’d cry. What if they even got depressed? Or was that merely a human thing? He had no idea.

Xylion felt his eyes begin to burn. He knew what this meant. He was going to start leaking mucus out of his eyes.

Wonderful.

Before he could begin to curse his retched fate, the sound of a radio turning on was heard. Xylion looked up at see the Roachonian holding one up. He put the radio up to his head. “What? Is sometin’ goin’ on?”

The sound of muffled screaming was heard. The Roachonian scowled before turning towards Xylion. “What are ye’ doin’? I know it sometin’!”

Xylion shook his head. “I swear, I am not doing anything, sir. I am tied up, and about to be covered in mucus because I’m so nervous.”

The Roachonian grimaced. “Gross.”

“No kidding.”

Suddenly, the door was thrown open. Human Fredrick stood there, a gun in his hand and blood pouring out of multiple wounds. The Roachonian pointed his gun at him and fired, hitting him in the shoulder. Human Fredrick backed up.

Xylion watched as Human Fredrick was shot in the chest, and went flying against the wall. He cried out, trying to break his bonds, but to no avail.

But before the pirate could shoot human Fredrick again, the sound of a voice came booming all around them. “If you dare shoot that gun once more, than you will die.”

The pirate stopped, his gun still pointed at Human Fredrick’s limp body. Xylion looked around, trying to pinpoint Human Mason, but he was not in the room.

“Who are ya’? Where are ya’?” The pirate cried out, backing up slightly.

“Look at you, a weak, insolent insect. How dare you come aboard this ship and think you and your gang of roaches can take us down?”

The pirate pointed his gun up to Xylion. “Shut up or I’ll shoot him!”

“If you shoot him, then we will be forced to shoot you dead.”

Xylion watched as hundred of little red dots seemed to appear all over the pirate’s body. His eyes widened and his grip on the gun loosened.

“You- you can’t stop us! We gone find ya’ and kill ya’!”

“As if a creature that doesn’t even belong in the asshole of hell can take our ship? You must have a superiority complex, you fuck-head.”

Whatever hell was, Xylion didn’t want to know. It sounded bad if a Roachonian couldn’t belong there.

The pirate’s gun began to slip out of it’s grip. “You can’t stop us! We are the future! We gone find ya’, kid.”

“Shit, man!” Human Isaac was no speaking. “This little cockroach thinks he can get us by just shooting us? I mean, Fred is down there with him!”

The pirate let out a sick laugh. “That fool? I took care of ‘I’m wit mah gun!”

Xylion heard the sound of a gun cocking. He looked behind the pirate to see Human Fredrick with his gun pointed at the pirate. Blood was oozing out of all his wounds. His chest, arms, torso, forehead, and his left leg was covered in the crimson liquid. Not to mention that his left eye was swollen shut. Xylion felt sick just looking at him. Human Fredrick let out a sick chuckle. “We don’t go down easy, bitch.”

The pirate backed up, his dark, beady eyes wider than plates. That’s when a sick grin spread over his face. “I’m invincible! Ya’ can’t kill whah can’t be killed!”

Human Fredrick looked up, baring his teeth. Xylion saw the red blood in his mouth too. How was he standing? “So maybe we can’t kill you, but we can break you.”

“And what is that suppose ta mean?”

Xylion was confused also, but then he heard Human Jenny speaking. “Do you have any family members?”

The pirate scowled. “What do tha-”

“Imagine if they saw you doing this? Would they approve of you killing innocent people just so you could get a spaceship you clearly don’t need?”

“I-”

“Imagine your mother, seeing you standing over Freddie, dead and covered in blood. You did this to him. You did. You killed him, and your mother will no longer see you as a son. She will see you as a murderer. A murderer who kills for fun just so he can have more things that he so obviously doesn’t need. How does that feel, huh? Or your father, even! The boy he helped grow and teach is a murderer! He kills people all because he wants a new spaceship. How would that affect him? Maybe the taste of wine would help drown it out.”

“But-”

“Or what about your spouse? The person you love more than anyone else? How would they feel seeing the person they made a promise with to stay with forever standing above the broken corpse of something that once was living, but now no longer breathes, no longer moves unless moved by an outside force? How could they still love you, knowing you pulled the trigger that ended that being’s life?”

“No-”

“Or, or, what about a child? A son, maybe. He aspires to be you, be like his father, but now- now, he hears his father kills people just so that he could have another vehicle to drive in. He killed an innocent human just because he wanted to take their ship. Or maybe you have a daughter. She hears about the blood oozing from the creature’s wounds, wounds you inflicted upon him! You sent this being to their death, their eternal rest, and now she can only imagine you with a sick twisted grin on your face as you hold the gun to their head and end their life!”

“Wait-”

“What about your siblings? You brother, ready to see you once more, only to hear that you ended up killing a man. A man who had a family, maybe even children. You ended his life without knowing a damn thing about him, and all because you wanted an upgrade? Or what about your sister? All she can see is her brother, someone she grew up with, now coated with blood. The phantom smell haunts her, and she feels like she can hear the cries of the dying man as you pulled the trigger. It haunts her for the rest of her days, even though they aren’t as long anymore.”

“You-”

“And your grandparents! Your grandmother quaking in fear whenever she hears you name! All she can remember is that her adorable grandson she took care of while your parents were out of town. She’d watch you run around, chasing the pet and cuddling it once you caught it. And your grandfather, who first taught you how to shoot a gun will regret it for the rest of his days. He will end up dying with the knowledge he helped teach you how to end someone’s life.”

The pirate suddenly fell to his knees, his dark eyes blank. The gun fell out of his hands. Human Fredrick fell to his knees as well, but he took this as the chance to grab the gun.

Xylion was in shock over what he just heard. How could Human Jenny say such things?

“I- I surrender. Just please, stop!” The pirate said, throwing his body on the floor. “I beg of you! Please! No more!”

Xylion was amazed. They got the pirate to surrender just by saying those things. Human Fredrick suddenly stood up, strapping the guns to his back. He walked towards Captain Zellnor and Xylion and began to cut the bonds.

“Human Fredrick-”

“I’ll be fine for now, Xylion.” Human Fredrick said, his voice raspy. “I still have some adrenaline running through me.”

Whatever adrenaline was, Xylion made sure to note how powerful it was and what it did to humans. He’d have to find more of it.

When Xylion went out to check everything else, he saw the other Roachonians on the ground, either crying or just unmoving. They were broken.

He felt a wave of fear settle within him. If the humans could do this with just speaking, what more could they do?

How easily could they break him if they needed to?


Well. That was a doozy.

I feel like I got carried away with what Jenny said…did I?

Oh well.

I hope you liked that! I had to think of a scenario to write. Originally I was going to do a fight that Xylion tried to break up, but I feel this turned out much better.

If you have anything else you want me to write, don’t hesitate to ask! If it is within my writing capability, then I will do it! If it isn’t, then I apologize.

kogumasden  asked:

First, lemme say that I love your art <3 I'm not talking shit, I do like it, seriously. Mind if I ask you for any tips for learning how to draw dragons, specially heads? I've been trying to learn those bastards, and I thought that looking at real lizards would be helpful, but a dragon skull and a lizard skull don't quite match if you know what I mean. Thank you in advance!

Yeah definitely! The good thing about dragons is they’re complete fantasy, so you can push the anatomy pretty far and draw your inspiration from practically anywhere. Reptiles, birds, bats, mammals. 

BUT it’s easier to create your own believable anatomy when you’re comfortable and familiar with drawing anatomy for other animals. A strong understanding of anatomy will carry you a long way. Being able to mentally conceptualize your design in 3D helps too.

I really enjoy looking at dinosaurs for dragon facial inspiration. Bats and birds are great for wings and musculature but I don’t have time to get into that.

Dragons are fun because you can design such unusual and striking silhouettes for them.

The best thing about dragons is you can draw them as alien or as terran as you want. Take your inspiration from anywhere, go wild! There’s absolutely no set form to stick to.

Am I the only one that doesn’t care at all that Mon El said that he loved Kara before Sanvers have said it? Like the relationship between Kara and Mon El is messy and lacks development, so I’m not surprised that he said that he loved her so quickly. In all honesty he may not even truly love her, she’s just the first person he’s truly been attached to and not a hook up, which he was doing on Daxam. 

BUT Sanvers has been developed and I’m just waiting for that special moment that they actually say it. Not some type of “I’m saying this cause I don’t want to lose you bullshit,” but they say it cause it’s true. Cause they truly can’t live without one another and love each other, ride or die. When they do say it, it will be impactful and not easily forgotten like Mon El’s confession.