i am not fancy

I relate to basically, every character in shadowhunters, because they are all Extra™.
I mean we have,
• Jace “I will backflip over every fucking thing just because” Herondale/Lightwood
• Alec “my first kiss with the love of my kife will be in the middle of MY wedding in front of MY entire family and the goddamn clave” Lightwood
• Magnus “I am not dramatic but I do sometimes match my chair to my clothes and dance the night away while drinking a fancy ass cocktail” Bane
• Maia “I am so petty about Climon I will make out with Jace, just because” Roberts
• Simon “actually admitting I am not straight? What is that? Lemme eye fuck both Jace and Raphael at every given chance” Lewis

Mental Illness in the Horror Genre

Something that pissed me off the other day.

Talking to a guy who knows my parents but doesn’t know me very well, and he tells me that his friend (indeed, a very nice and talented actor) recently put out a horror movie. And I’m interested until I hear the words “So it’s about this guy with OCD…” and at that point my mom and I give each other a sidelong glance.

I say, “I don’t know, because I have OCD and it’s a pretty serious thing for me.”

To which he follows up, “Oh, you don’t have it like this guy! You’re totally functional!”

Okay, dude. Yes, I am standing before you in a fancy club, dressed nice, and looking relatively balanced. But you do not know me. You do not know OCD.

You do not know that I have been non-functional, and that in order to maintain my current balance of sanity, I take daily medication and see a weekly therapist, and I still have downward spirals and panic attacks.

OCD can add to a story, for sure. The Aviator is a great example–albeit, it was on the voyeuristic side, kind of “check out what a weirdo this guy really is”, but his condition was portrayed in a realistic and *sympathetic* manner, because it focused so hard on his anxiety and entrapment.

I don’t need a horror movie about my disorder for a couple reasons.
1. I already live the horror movie that is OCD.
2. Just like people with psychosis, schizophrenia/schizotypal disorders, dissociative identity disorders, and any other number of mental disorder that makes us act in unusual and yes, sometimes frightening ways, I don’t need it to be the hinge for your horror flick, a handy device that makes more people like you scared and misunderstanding of people like me.
3. And for people with the above disorders who may not be diagnosed, they don’t need to be told that they are dangerous monsters and cause them to avoid treatment out of fear. (This goes double for people who experience paranoia or delusions as part of their symptoms.)

This post ended up way longer than I meant, but really, truly, hear me out creators:

MENTAL ILLNESS IS A TRAIT AMONG AN INFINITE VARIETY OF PEOPLE. IT IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW, AND IT IS DEFINITELY A POOR PLOT DEVICE FOR THE HORROR GENRE. YOU CAN DO BETTER.

If people will be named after colors, I’ll call you purple. The kind of purple that melts in the sky when the sun is about to set and take a rest for awhile. The type of purple that makes my heart jumps a little and lits up the excitement in my eyes.

If people will be named after flowers, you’ll be my rose, no matter how painful your thorns. I’ll embrace you with my arms open wide and cage you in a warm tight hug. Even if it makes me bleed red that’ll surely tear my heart apart.

If people will be named after seasons, I’ll choose Summer among all of those four. You’ll be the sun that kisses my skin, and made my day goes lighter along the way. You’ll make me love the ocean more, and dance to groovy songs. You are the season which will never get tired of warming my heart when Winter tried to cool it with its cold breeze and snowy hands.

If people will be named after places, I’ll call you home. Not Paris, nor New York. You are the place that will always make my heart aches when I’m away—because I’ll surely miss you the moment we took our separate ways. You are the shelter that protects my heart, the one I will always run to no matter what I’m feeling. Happy, angry, sad, jolly, grateful or in love. Because you always understand and know the real me. You’ve seen me— on my ups and downs, and still accepts me— for who I am. I’ll name you after a place that doesn’t have a fancy name, yet will always be the one that will tell me that it’s okay to feel. That it’s okay to be me.

You will always remain in my heart no matter where I go.

And because people have identities, and so are things.

But you and your name will always be my favorite.

—  ma.c.a // Maybe I should Call You Mine

pieplease  asked:

hey so my tags are kinda crazy on your posts but i just realized, im actually familiar with your work (by which i mean i would sell limbs for it holy fuck) and i was just really behind on stalking your art tag. so.. you are hella lovely and i hope u have a good day! -andy

good morning, it’s me: Bad Cat

to the people who inspire me: have a thoughtful lafayette

@halpdevon @exadorlion @midnigtartist @raythrill @galactibun


hope there aren’t too many people in one post :’)))))

edit: i almost forgot a very important artist! @birdloaf okay, NOW there are too many people in one post 😅
Restaurant issues
  • Mom: Okay so, your aunt and your cousins are coming tonight, to have dinner at that fancy restaurant. I don't want to look bad infront of them because of your "Hamilton issues".
  • Me:
  • Me: okay.
  • Me: *at the restaurant*
  • Aunt: *talks to my parents*
  • Me: *sees if anyone is looking*
  • Me:
  • Me: *takes a glass with water*
  • Me: Raise a glass to freedom! Something they can never take away-
  • Mom: What was that?
  • Me: Nothing.
  • Me: *whispers* No matter what they tell you...

yondadudonta  asked:

TALK STARKQUILL TO ME I NEED

Their meeting was a little less meet-cute and a little more,,, meet-ugly sort of thing.


Mainly because they both read the situation very badly and ended up trying to kill one another. Completely accidentally, but.

Still.

And really, can you blame Tony? Their ship does crash-land in the middle of a crowded highway, and barely manages to avoid civilians. Then they pop out, and they’re armed to the teeth, looking pretty threatening and…well… alien.

People end up calling (what’s left of) the Avengers- which happens, at the time, to be Tony and Tony alone.

Except the Guardians crashed in Florida; when Tony got the call he was in New Orleans at a science convention, and the suit was still in New York.

But he went anyway. Suit or no suit, he had to try. He was the only line of defence now, after… everything.

So, armed with a sophisticated watch-gauntlet and a gun he always kept tucked in his jacket pocket, he takes the jet and leaves to try and stop them from potentially, y’know, annihilating the world or whatever.


Except things don’t really happen like that, in the end.


“Listen, what are the chances you’re gonna do as I say when I order you to drop your weapons and leave?” tony asks wearily, as he holds the gun at the biggest guy’s weirdly patterned face and the gauntlet at the woman holding the largest gun he’s ever seen in his life. He doesn’t even bat an eyelid toward the talking walking raccoon or… the tree…thing.

Just another day in the life, at this point.

Although it would be kinda embarrassing if he ends up getting murdered by the raccoon. What the damn hell would they put on his grave? Here lies Tony Stark- saved New York, but unable to protect himself from the dangers of the Mighty Raccoon?

As soon as he’d spoken, about 13 different weapons were pointed in his face. Which hardly made sense, considering there were five of them and they all only had two hands. But whatever.

“How’s about we ask you the same? Except more forcefully, considering we got all the guns,” the raccoon said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck would I go then, what with me being a human being who lives here? Just fling myself into the void of space? And yes, tempting as that might sound, I’ve been there done that. Not as appealing as I would have thought, to be honest.” 

The five stared at him in confusion for a moment, before what looked to be the only actual human stepped forward, head cocked. His eyes were bright and beard scruffy- Tony thought it suited him.

Tony also thought he should probably focus on the task at hand, and his ever-growing chances of imminent death, rather than how pretty his opponent was.

“You’re just a human, huh?” Hot Scruffy Man asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow, and then pointed the gun at him when he took another step. “What gave it away? The fact that I have the same composition and structure as every other human on the planet? The fact I look just like you, who is also a human?”

“Half human,”

“What was the other half, pure asshole?”

“Actually… kinda, yeah.” The Hot Scruffy Man paused, and then shrugged. “Daddy issues.”

Tony had a brief moment to wonder what the fuck he was doing before an involuntary snort of laughter had escaped out of him. “Yeah- rode that train before, buddy- still doesn’t explain why you’re on the planet I protect, waving your guns around at innocent people and causing millions of dollars worth in property damage.”

The team in front of him paused, and then the man looked back at the green lady, who just shrugged and put down her gun. “We were told there was an imminent threat to your planet. We were in the neighbourhood, so we thought we’d come save you.”

Tony stared at them, contemplating. “Where are your sources from?”

“The fine NovaCorps,” Massive Bulked Alien Dude spoke up.

Tony squinted, running a hand across his forehead. “Am I… supposed to know what that means?”

“Fancy space police,” Raccoon told him.

“You seen any apocalyptic aliens round here lately?” Hot scruffy Man asked him again, slightly confused now. 

Tony just sighed. “Nope. And if there were, I would handle them. You can go back…wherever you came from, guys, it’s fine, Earth is fine-“

“You? You’re gonna protect the Earth? With your fancy little handgun and hand-firey thing?” The Raccoon laughed, and Tony scowled.

Luckily, because he had been counting the seconds in his head since he’d called it, he knew he was about to do something really badass, and it wiped the scowl off his face, replacing it with a little smile as he stared at the stupid talking Raccoon. 

“No,” he said, shrugging as he heard the familiar whirring sound of metal moving at hundreds of miles an hour up ahead of him.

The aliens looked up, one of them pointing their gun at the source of noise, like it would do anything. But in the space of a few seconds, it had already reached its intended target, slowing down just enough to not vaporise his body and wrapping around him, every piece fitting in a way that made Tony want to give himself a round of applause.


“I’m gonna protect Earth with this,” he said, raising his two repulsors and loading them right in the Raccoon’s little face.


There was complete silence for a second, before Hot Scruffy Man made a noise that should really, for the sake of Tony’s sanity, be kept in the bedroom. “That was literally the coolest and most attractive thing I have ever seen ever. In my life.”

Tony couldn’t help himself; he smirked and cocked his head Hot scruffy Man. “Sweetie, I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re gonna have to keep it in your pants until we can sort this out.”

Green Lady sighed, and walked forward to smack Hot Scruffy Man around the back of the head. “You know what we talked about, Peter- no flirting with potential targets. It’s in bad form.”

“This guy certainly hasn’t got a bad form,” Hot Scruffy Man- Peter- nodded over to Tony and smirked.

Green Lady sighed, and then turned to Tony. “Listen. You want to protect your planet. We want to protect your planet. How about rather than pointing our weapons at one another, we try and… you know, do what we set out to do?”

Instantly, the smile slide off Tony’s face, not that any of them could tell behind the faceplate. “I work alone. Sorry. You’re gonna have to l-“


And that was when the world sort of exploded around them.


Without even thinking about it, Tony shot forward and wrapped his arms around the two closest to him- the Green Lady and Peter- rolling them to the ground and hoping that the rest of his team, especially the more flammable ones, were okay. Green Lady yelled at the sudden-ness of his approach, but Peter just sighed. “Here we go,” he muttered into Tony’s shoulder.

Tony was inclined to agree, there.




Half-way through the battle, Peter AKA Starlord AKA Galaxy’s Number One Asshole asked him out.

Tony looked at him for a good four seconds before he got tackled to the ground by… (Dracula? Dracker? He was having to learn the names on the go, and his mind was currently on other, more explosion-based things) the Massive Bulked Alien Dude.

“THAT IS VERY UNPROFFESSIONAL, PETER!” He yelled, before looking down at Tony. “Are you well? I thought you may have been hit with a paralytic beam of some sort.”

Tony nodded, and then sat up. “No paralytic. Just your team-mate.”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude nodded wisely. “He does tend to have that affect on people.”

“What? Endangering their goddamn lives on the field?”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude paused, and then shrugged as he rolled off Tony. “I was going to say rendering people speechless with his idiocy, but that too.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m actually clever, Tony, I promise! Boyfriend material, right here!” Peter yelled across the battlefield, looking over to them and grinning as he shot an alien in the back of the head without even looking.

“You’re a god damn alien!” tony yelled back exasperatedly, trying to keep the smile off his face as he jumped high into the air and then landed on an unfortunate opponent.

“Yeah- think of all the new tricks I must know, then,” Peter countered, winking as he dived behind a car and then threw what must have been a fancy bomb over the bonnet.

Tony’s mind briefly short-circuited at that (Holy mother of God) astute observation- but he quickly regrouped and fired a repulsor at an alien attempting to sneak up behind Rocket. “I’m gonna need a few examples before I agree to anything, sweetie,” he replied.

Peter laughed and opened his mouth, but then the Tree hit him over the head. “Ow!” he complained, looking betrayed.

“I have enough issues dealing with one distracted team-member whilst in the middle of a battle, I will not be dealing with two! Cut the flirting out!” Gamora yelled, as Tony watched her utterly destroy two different aliens at once.

“She thinks we should be ‘professionals’ and ‘focus on the mission’ when we’re in battle,” Peter said grumpily, wiping a cut across his face and then shrugging. “I respectfully disagree.”

Tony had to cut the conversation short again in order to swoop up and laser his way into the main hull of the ship that loomed barely even twenty meters over the battlefield, but he still had the team in the comm that FRIDAY had patched him into. “So what about Monday? You sticking around until then?” He asked.

Rocket swore at them down the line, but Peter just laughed. “For you, baby, of course I am.”

“Good. I’ve got a meeting with… let’s call him an ex. Be nice to have an excuse to blow him off.”

Peter whistled, “Oooh, want me to sweep you off your feet and declare battle with him for hurting you? I’m always up for it.”

“Much as I would like to see that, he’s kind of peak physical perfection. Plus I’d rather just make out with you,” Tony admitted.

“That’s fair. I want to make out with me too.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yep- welcome to the Guardians- we’re all assholes here. You’ll fit right in,” Peter told him.

“I am GROOT!” Came a rumbling voice that Tony could hear even off the comms, and he looked down in time to watch the tree grab Peter around the wait and haul him, flinging him up in to the sky with a yell.

It was a perfect throw, to be fair to Groot. Peter’s momentum cut out just as he was level with Tony, who grabbed his shoulders and lifted his faceplate, just for a second, in time for Peter to plant one on his mouth with a grin and a raised eyebrow, before he began falling again, right into Groot’s waiting arms.


Through the comm, Gamora just sighed. “Idiots. All of you.”

4

Not really happy with the drawings but yeah…
I am trying my best although it’s sometimes hard to come up with a good idea!

Disconnected - Chapter Twenty-Eight

Read on tumblr.

“The thing is, Clarissa, you broke a pretty legally binding contract when you hit publish on that fake article.” Her eyes widened and, with a slight ripple of pleasure in my chest, I realised I was witnessing as she was being metaphorically backed into a corner. I couldn’t fight back my growing grin, putting all her previous smarmy, smug looks to shame. “Didn’t you read the small print? Rookie mistake, that. Let me break it down for you.”

OK SO

pretty painting huh?

BUT

and not just one but look

 

at

this

 

HOW AM

I SUPPOSED

TO

DO THIS

but seriously

Looking at you sir lawrence alma-tadema

nope, are YOU kidding me

and it

just

doesn’t stop

 

I am

honestly so sorry but

classical degree done good

for sure