force my self

dating advice: the “captain america” rule

Context: I grew up in a family of nerds, and superheroes were always a really big part of my childhood. Captain America was a favorite, and he kind of became my family’s standard for good behavior and just generally being a Nice Person. (If one of the kids started a fight they’d get hit with, “What would Captain America think of how you’re acting?”, stuff like that.)

So when I got to high school and started dating, my mom told me something that sounds funny but in retrospect actually turned out to be really good advice:

“Date someone who treats you the way Captain America would. Never settle for less.” 

And this has actually helped me so much in my dating life, through high school and into my adult years, because even if it’s a little silly, it’s been really helpful to have that standard in the back of my mind when I’m first going into a relationship. 

Would Captain America ignore my calls? Would Captain America forget my birthday? Would Captain America get mad at me for cancelling a date because a family emergency came up? If the answer is no, then I know that the person I’m currently dating does not meet my standards, and that I need to break things off before they get too serious.

And your standard absolutely does not have to be Captain America, specifically. It can be any person, male or female, real or fictional, who is known for being respectful and considerate. It can even be an imaginary “soulmate” that you make up yourself. The point is to have a specific idea of how you expect to be treated by your romantic partners, and to refuse to compromise or settle for less. (Just make sure you’re holding yourself to the same standards – you can’t expect to date superheroes if you’re going to treat your partners the way a supervillain would.) This is a really good way to keep yourself from falling into bad relationships where you aren’t treated with the respect and care you deserve.

TL;DR: You deserve to date people who are respectful and considerate of you. You deserve a Captain America. Don’t settle for less. 

2

- Ukrainian/Polish Proverb

I’m very disapointed that the fandom haven’t already made this joke yet and that I needed to do it myself.

But here you have it, a very chilled Eclipsa. Uh, by the way, this may be considered spoiler-ish? so yeah, watch out for that….
But if you’re reading this then you’re probably already seen the spoiler, so… whoops?

10

just doodles bc of time and energy but heres my take on mikans execution!

i imagined if i wanted to keep it as close to the original as possible, id keep the giant arm, hospital room and mikan being in the sky but i decided to have it her going from the sky to land rather than the other way round. also she falls off the arm rather than gets on it

shipped-goldstandard  asked:

for the soulmate au #18 for maybe pbj?? :D

I need you to know that I sat here for a long-ass time trying to make this angsty just to spite you :P But alas, this prompt is too adorable and I admit defeat. 


18. The one where whenever you get a song stuck in your head, it’s because your soulmate is singing it.


I can feel your halo, halo, halo…

Jack rolls onto his stomach and shoves his face down into the pillow with a groan as the music fades away. Maybe it’s finally over and he can get some sleep.

Remember those walls I built? Well baby they’re tumbling down.

“Crisse,” Jack mutters. Blearily, he lifts his head and checks the clock. “Ridiculous.” He rolls off the bed, his feet landing with a dull thud, and trudges over to the bathroom where he can hear the shower running.

The door’s unlocked of course, and really Jack should just say something, but he’s tired and keyed up all at once and his body is sore from their last game, so he’s feeling grumpy enough to yank the shower curtain back and snap, “Kenny! Stop singing, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Jesus!” Kent jumps and smacks his elbow on the tiles. “Ow, what the fuck Zimms? I—wait, shit. I wasn’t.”

Jack lets go of the curtain and scrubs at his face. It’s too early in the morning for this. “Quit fucking around, Kenny. I’m tired.”

“Jack, I’m not,” Kent insists, clearly exasperated—and serious, because he never uses Jack’s real name unless it’s important. “I thought that was you.”

Shit. “You—you hear it too?” Jack asks, eyes going wide. The song is still buzzing faintly in the back of his brain, its insistent rhythm battering against Jack’s concentration.

“Uh, duh. Fuck. What the fuck?” Kent shuts off the shower and shakes his head like a dog, splattering water all over Jack’s face, because he’s an asshole. He’s supposed to be Jack’s asshole. So why has this stupid ‘halo, halo’ song been playing on repeat for the past half hour?

Kent steps out of the shower and snags a towel to dry off his hair better, ignoring the way he’s dripping water all over the floor that seeps into Jack’s socks. Jack sighs and peels them off, dropping them in the corner with Kent’s clothes. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath to combat the anxiety flaring in the base of his gut.

“What—what’s happening?” he whispers, grabbing at Kent’s hand wildly, willing the touch to stabilize him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kent soothes, running his thumb over the bones of Jack’s wrist and stepping closer, tilting his face up to look Jack in the eye. He almost seems calm, but his voice is quivering just a little and Jack realizes Kent is scared too. It’s not something he thinks about often, that Kent can be afraid. “We’re—we’ll figure it out, okay? I’ve got an idea.”

Jack nods and swallows thickly.

Kent squeezes Jack’s hand and says, “Go sit in the other room okay? I wanna try something.”

“Um, okay.” Jack dutifully wanders back into the bedroom and sits down on his bed, staring at his hands and wishing they’d stop shaking. Suddenly, the halo, halo song stutters and fades to be replaced with—oh, of course.

I got my hands up, they’re playing my song—

“I hear you!” Jack shouts, scrambling off the bed and bolting into the bathroom. “I can—I still hear you.”

He’s grinning and so is Kent, once Jack skids into the room and gathers him up in a crushing hug, the momentum carrying them against the wall. Kent laughs and presses his forehead hard into Jack’s shoulder. Now that Kent’s not singing anymore, the other song fades back in as persistent as ever—though at this point it’s kind of grown on him.

“So,” Kent muffles into Jack’s shoulder, “we’re still soulmates.”

Jack drops Kent back to the ground and pulls him back in by the hips. “Yeah.”

“But—there’s some third person out there…who we can hear too?” Kent quirks his lips to the side in thought.

Jack hums and says, “Seems like it. What should we do?”

Kent shrugs, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck and tugging him down into a quick kiss. “Dunno,” he says, “guess we just wait until we find him.”

Five years later

Jack stomps back into the Haus with a pinched expression. He had to pull his headphones out halfway through his run because his soulmate was in the mood for Beyoncé—again—and trying to listen to his own music with something else prattling in the background has always been torturous. In fact, he’s starting to feel a headache coming on just from the strain.

So it hasn’t been the best morning, but it smells like Bittle is baking in the kitchen again which is nice. Jack hadn’t gotten along with Bittle terribly well the first few months, but the frog has definitely grown on him—which might’ve had something to do with Kent telling him to ‘stop being such a fucking dick, Zimms.’ But, anyway. The point is that it’s been good, having Bittle around more.

Jack wanders into the kitchen to say hello, and finds Bittle bopping around to something on his iPod and—

Baby I can see your halo, you know you’re my saving grace.

—singing along.

Jack freezes and narrowly avoids crashing into the kitchen table, bracing his hands bodily against the edge. His heart pounds, breath hitching in sudden realization—is Bittle?—he must be—but maybe it’s just—

Jack forces himself to take a deep breath. There’s only one way to find out.

“Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through,” Jack sings softly, nearly humming the words under his breath. Bittle’s entire body jerks and then stills. “And just a sweet old song keeps Georgia on my mind.”

Bittle turns slowly, brown eyes wide and shining with disbelief, a hand up to his mouth. “Jack?” he whispers, the name rich and warm on his tongue.

Jack’s entire body shivers. Slowly, watching with a detached awe as his hands shake, he reaches for his phone and dials.

Kent answers on the second ring. “Zimms—I heard—did you—?”

Jack smiles shyly and Bittle gives a little wave. “Yeah, Kenny. I found him.”

Jenny

I think working on commissions has really messed me up in more ways then one. I have been feeling sick, tired and just unable to draw in general. So I’m taking this week off from commissions and I forced my self to draw this doodle of Jenny, I figured if I could draw some thing then it might help me get my motivation back

I drew Jenny a bit more shapely then I wanted but I like how this came out in the end.

sooO i saw a “imagine how your fav character would look after staying awake for 48hrs” post and i was like HAHA i bet anders does that constantly at the clinic… helping refugees with a smile on his face…even though he is so tired he is almost passing out…. my poor heart cannot take it

You know that 
time I accidentally
kicked you in my 
sleep or elbowed 
you in the rib and
I couldn’t stop saying
sorry,

Or that time you 
bruised my knee 
and split my lip 
because we were
both so damn 
clumsy?


Maybe we were
always just a mess
of apologies.

—  A letter to myself: (I have always been apologizing for the mess).