i realize i posted almost the whole article but i really loved this

Open Letter to the Clique from Mark

Dear Skeleton Clique,

We are slipping.

Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun use their many talents to send a message of hope and community to those who feel hopeless and alone. The band’s mission is for this message to reach those who struggle (usually with depression, since this is the struggle they (specifically Tyler) understand best), in hopes that it will also help the listener overcome the obstacles they share. They do send other messages, but this is the most immediate and by far the most important.

When a fan base selflessly rallies around this kind of mission and message for the sake of helping others to stay alive, it’s unspeakably beautiful and actually lifesaving. When that same fan base selfishly rearranges its priorities to put fan-status ahead of the mission, it’s unspeakably ugly and detrimental to everything it stood for to begin with. It isolates the message from those who genuinely need it most. It’s an ego-driven, life-threatening mentality.

If there wasn’t so much at stake, I wouldn’t care enough to write a single word about this. The reality, however, is that a truly lifesaving message is getting heavy pushback from many who claim to believe and live out these truths – all in the name of self-glorification. When that happens, we withhold goodness from so many people. Again, we withhold aid from those who need it, and I refuse to just sit here and watch that happen.

I’m not just assuming this negativity and selfishness exists, but rather watching it unfold firsthand. Furthermore, I’m not just assuming that people could really benefit from the message. How many times have you read “Your music saved my life” in the comments? Has it saved yours? Would you want it kept from you?

Let’s take a look at some (paraphrased) attitudes we constantly see:

1) “I’ve been a fan since [album title/year]”
I completely understand why somebody would be proud to have watched a band grow from the beginning. In that case, there would be few who could claim to have seen what you’ve seen, and that’s special in and of itself.

However, it’s not meant to be a trophy for you to shove in anybody’s face. The most likely reason somebody would do this is so that others might acknowledge and validate some high-level of fandom that they possess. Instead of seeking this approval for no good reason, acknowledge your fandom to yourself and move on. Validate your fandom by being a fan. Support the band and its mission.

Honestly, you’d be hard-pressed to find more than one legitimate instance in which you should bring up how long you’ve been a fan. The only one I can think of (and it’s rare as hell) is if somebody asked you directly, but even then, just tell them and move on. Somebody was a fan before you, and there’s likely a band you’ll love that – through no fault of your own – you haven’t even discovered yet.

Boasting the number of years you’ve served in the clique doesn’t drive any of your points home. Not a one. Instead, it divides us, which is foundationally against the message and mission of the band to come together and stay alive.

2) “I hate that they’re getting famous.”
If that’s the case, you simply don’t love or support this band. Let me clarify.

There are only two cases (that I am aware of) in which it makes ANY sense to be upset about your favorite band getting famous: 1) They did so by way of “selling out.” In other words, they sacrificed their mission and message and abandoned what they once stood for as a means to an end (but even in this case, you’d be more upset about the means (selling out) than the end (fame)). 2) Their concert tickets are now much more expensive, which makes it more difficult for you to see them live. In these two cases, absolutely be mad.

The reality you need to accept is that if you love this band, it should bring you unspeakable joy when fame allows their message to reach more people. Otherwise, you’re pushing back against the mission of the band, likely because you just don’t want to share, which brings me to my next point…

3) “This is my band.”
I believe the “this is my band” mentality is responsible for a lot of the issues I’m discussing. When you link your personal identity so heavily with something that is fundamentally meant to be shared, you will inevitably forfeit your identity to the public when it actually becomes shared. You will lose yourself entirely.

4) “I hate how people call themselves fans but they only know Stressed Out/Tear in my Heart/House of Gold/Car Radio.”
Show me even one person who claims to be a Twenty One Pilots fan while simultaneously admitting to only knowing one or a handful of song(s). Seriously, if you see somebody do both at the same time, comment it below. Let’s see how many actually exist.

In other words, those who are upset about self-proclaimed fans only knowing one song likely have no way of proving that the person actually only knows the one song. Rather, they assume the worst of a stranger based solely on whichever song they listed as their favorite. If it’s a radio hit, they often call out the poor soul who simply said they like Stressed Out. Even if they do admit to only knowing the one song, in most (if not all) cases, it’s paired with something like, “…but I love this band,” suggesting they expect to dig further into the discography based off of how much they love what little they’ve heard.

The truth is that these songs are powerful enough for one of them alone to move somebody. If you’re not willing to accept that truth because you feel somebody isn’t doing the entire catalog justice, you don’t even understand these songs, let alone support the mission they drive. No matter how ideal it would be for someone to know the whole catalog, no matter how cohesive and intentional each album is as a whole, that can’t possibly diminish the fact that each song can speak volumes by itself. It’s no crime for somebody to recognize that. In fact, it strengthens this community and allows it to grow.

5) “It’s ‘Twenty One Pilots,’ not ’21p’ or ‘TOP'”
I actually agree that we should spell out the band’s name. They requested that we do so out of respect. However, we need to realize something.

Those who abbreviate the band name are almost never doing so to diminish what Twenty One Pilots is. Abbreviating is common with band names, and people are usually just being people. If you’re seeking to invite the person to understand the spelling-out of the band name, do so kindly and in a way that fosters community. This is usually the route the clique takes, and I’m grateful for that. This is just a friendly reminder.

Again, this is no time to take people’s innocent ignorance personally (see point 3). There is never a need to prove how much you know just for proof’s sake.That divides the fan base and pushes back against the band’s mission and message.

EDIT: Since this article was posted, Twenty One Pilots has released official merchandise with their band name abbreviated in nearly every way imaginable (2NTY ØNE PLTS, TØP, etc), which I have to imagine was their decision. Do what you will and remain inviting.

6) “Vessel is not their first album”
Again, those who suggest Vessel is the band’s first album almost never do so just to get under your skin. Don’t let it anger you. Instead, realize that it actually makes a lot of sense for someone to believe Vessel is their first album considering the difference between independent releases and label releases (some of their work isn’t actually allowed by law to be sold commercially or publicly). Be welcoming and kind. Nurture the clique. Let it grow.

7) “Twenty One Pilots is not indie/rock/pop/rap/whatever.”
The lines separating genres have become so blurred at this point that it’s almost pointless to even try to assign one to a band anymore. There’s no reason to get upset if you think Twenty One Pilots has been misrepresented by genre. That being said, by all means have a discussion about what you think it might be. But don’t get upset. That just doesn’t make any sense.

For the record, they’re self-declared as “Schizoid-Pop” and I have no idea what that’s even supposed to mean. Discuss.

Being a part of the skeleton clique should make you feel proud. We are the foot soldiers in places the band can’t reach alone. By spreading this message, you help the band help others, and that’s all they want. That, and to see the clique grow.

If somebody flat-out disrespects the mission and message of Twenty One Pilots, by all means fight back. Don’t be rude, just be real. Defend the truth with more truth.

In that same vein, spreading this message is crucial. Let it through. Do not keep it for yourself. This band is not yours, it’s ours. Not everyone in the clique is guilty of this selfish mentality. In fact, I’d say the vast majority is still on track. However, I say again, we are slipping. Let’s find our footing.

Stay alive, friends. |-/

ladyknighttime  asked:

As a newer follower, what is A Highlander's Tail?

Oh boy. I’m guessing that means you also don’t know PDOC about Fifty Shades of Plaid and The Devil’s Sporran either then.

Hello, welcome to the crack that is going to be my literary career, this post will be your guide.

Hunger Pangs you likely know about but here’s the origin post where @jeneelestrange straight up altered the career path of my life.

I’ll keep Public Displays of Confection short, but basically I came up with the pun and liked it so much I decided to turn it into a w/w romance about two bakers who fall in love while competing in a wedding cake contest. It’s so sweet it might actually give you diabetes. (Small humorous extract)

A Highlander’s Tail started because @thestarfishdancer is a horrible enabler and I couldn’t help from shitposting in response. Somehow I ended up being convinced I should write a thing called A Highlander’s Tail. The vague plot outline I have so far features a Scottish werewolf who becomes a retainer for a young English woman who is brought to Scotland after marrying her much older (also English) husband. (A common trope in awful American written Scottish romances.) As with most old Scottish houses however, there’s rumors abound of ghosties and goblins and things that go bump in the night. Which is absurd of course. They howl. 

Cailean Glenn—our resident werewolf, does his best to make her feel welcome in his own gruff way, but when her marriage starts to flounder and she starts straying farther and farther from home as a means of distraction, he realizes the secret of the (fictional) town of Braedhuin may be at risk of exposure. 

There’s all sorts of shenanigans and romantic guff, as well as fun little absurdities like were-sheep who herd themselves and win national prizes. As per @deliriumsetin‘s wishes Cailean’s best friend is a plucky Irishman, Ruaidhrí, who seems to own an Irish setter who is often conspicuous by his absence. The setter is a downright friendly fellow though.

The Devil’s Sporran is a lighthearted contemporary romance spurred on after an article denouncing romance literature as basically sin, used the hilarious phrase “Shirtless Satan” to describe men in kilts. Some people wanted it to be the actual Devil, but for now he’s just an ordinary good looking man with a smile that can make you think very bad things.

The main focus is on Kate, an American who is the maid of honor to her college bff’s wedding to be held in Scotland where both her and her beau are from. As the maid of honor she gets introduced to all kinds of quaint traditions she’s never before encountered which you don’t really have to deal with in America. Like trying to find a real silver sixpence, taking the bride out around the town on her Taking Out, the whole kerfuffle with trying to find matching dresses for three vastly different shaped women, and realizing at the last minute she’s expected to pick out a tea set for the bride despite being a coffee drinker her whole life, and what the fuck is the difference between Wedgwood and Denby.
And then there’s the groom’s best man Donnie…she feels someone should have warned her about him:

“What are you doing in here?” Kate demanded, scrabbling to cover herself with the ugly tartan shawl despite being fully dressed.

“I was next door,” Donnie informed her, eyes darting over the length of her, “looking at scabbards. Are you all right? You sounded upset.”

“I’m fine!” She protested, but even to her own ears it sounded shrill. Her shoulders slumped, defeated. “I can’t get out of this stupid dress. There’s too many buttons and the assistant has apparently run away and I can’t breathe.”

Donnie chuckled easily and the sound went curling straight down to Kate’s bare toes, hidden under the length of her skirt. It was offensive how charming this particular Scotsman could be, especially given how effortless he made it seem. She was almost certain she’d have hated anyone else for it.

“She’s helping a bride,” he informed her, “I heard crying so you’re on you’re own for a while. Let me?”

The question was so unexpected and softly spoken it threw her off guard, and Kate found herself compelled to turn as he stepped further into the changing room, pulling the curtain closed behind him. She’d half expected to be manhandled by rough hands, surprised when he began freeing her from the confines of the bodice with the utmost of gentleness.

“There now,” Donnie intoned soothingly as the dress began to slip away from her shoulders. “All better.”

“Thank you,” Kate murmured, drawing in shuddering breath, the ghost of his fingertips still hot against her spine.

“You look lovely, by the way, very,” he smiled tightly, catching her eye in the mirror, “honorable.

Kate snorted, and moved to hold the bodice in place against her chest, aware that a good portion of her naked back was now exposed to him. “I’m supposed to look like the bride. Some tradition about keeping the Devil away.”

“Hmm,“ Donnie hummed, the silk of her skirt trailing through his fingers as he leant in, smile broadening into a roguish grin over her shoulder. “Tell me, Kate, do you think it’s working?”

It’s even got fanart already, cutesy of @songofsunset:

Fifty Shades of Plaid started out again as a humorous shitpost when I was being salty over how Scottish history is often romanticized to make us look like tragic heroes, rather than the victims of class oppression, and cultural warfare. 

It’s since turned into a serious novel which follows the standard Scottish romance style but is actually a visceral denouncement of the whole trope of Scottish romances written by outsiders with little to no regard for our heritage beyond “men in kilts look good” (a lighthearted sample).

It’s the story about a wealthy weaver and his daughter acquiring land in Scotland, after buying out a weaving town, intending to produce the cloth for much lower wages, and selling it at a far more expensive price on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh after it became fashionable to wear again in 1822 after King George IV felt like playing dress up, despite the kilt having been banned for actual Scottish people to wear for almost four decades for being considered an act of treason. Hence the title, fifty shades of plaid.

The main characters at present are called Elizabeth and Alasdair, and it will likely be years before I am done writing this. But it’ll get there, one day.

I also have various other writing projects going on, but these were the ones inspired by tumblr. I am hoping to churn one out each year, though in what order I don’t quite know.

And that my doves, is why I have no fucking time on my hands lmao.

beginner’s guide to horror movies

Okay, so you’ve seen a few scary movies and enjoyed them, and now you’re looking to expand your horror prowess. Maybe you’ve been reading/listening to a lot of creepypasta, and you feel like you’re ready to take the plunge. Or maybe you just have a feeling that you’d like horror, but have no idea where to start. 

I’ve been a huge fan of all things creepy and scary for years. I was just reading an article called, “Horror Gems You Haven’t Seen Yet” and realized that I actually had seen almost every film on the list, so I guess that makes me an expert. So, my new baby horror fans, allow me to introduce you to the genre.

Keep reading

Imagine Chris finding out you wrote his favorite love story.

A/N: Part 2 is here, yo! :) You can find the previous parts here: (Unexpected Reader - Part 1) I’m really liking where this is going, do you? ❤️

After Chris returned with your second vanilla latte, and his first green tea- he wasn’t a coffee person unless his schedule needed him to be- the both of you chatted at your corner table in Starbucks. The way you talked to each other, it was like two old friends rather than a fan with her celebrity crush. You’d started the conversation incredibly nervous; you’d had to hide your clammy palms under your butt in fear that he’d reach over and give your hand another pat or gentle squeeze. But the more you talked to Chris, the calmer you became about the whole situation. You didn’t know what it was about him that normalized him despite his celebrity status and deadly good looks, but for a second- you could almost forget that you were talking to Chris Evans.

Believe it or not, Chris was everything you’d imagined he’d be, and more- if that was even possible. The way you’d portrayed him in your stories was- as far as you could see- a hundred and ten percent accurate. The man was sweet, kind, funny, intelligent, and real. Chris was real, he was real with his questions, his comments, and his interest in what you had to say. You were so lost in the conversation- in his darling blue eyes- that you forgot to take some notes so you could write a piece based around this once in a lifetime meeting, though you doubt you needed anything to remind you of this interaction. You were pretty sure this was something you were going to remember on your deathbed, which was surely moments away if he continued to smile at you the way he was.

Now the realistic side of you reminded you not to fall too hard for, or get too attached to the man you clearly had no chance with; you had to know that Chris was just talking to you to pass time in a boring airport. But the hopelessly romantic and imaginative side of you said otherwise; Chris wasn’t the kind of guy who would approach a girl unless he was genuinely interested, be it romantically, or platonically. You may not have known him personally, but you knew he wasn’t the kind of guy who would lead people on, or use people. You’d watched enough interviews, read enough articles and fan encounters, and written enough fan fiction to know that he was a genuinely nice guy who was worth befriending and loving if you were ever lucky enough to acquire those chances. Perhaps you didn’t have a chance at being his girlfriend like you’d always dreamed of, but maybe- just maybe, you had a chance at being his friend.

“So tell me, Y/N.” He began and smiled when he saw how much more relaxed you were with him now than you were at the start of the conversation. Your hands had dried and returned to thrum the tabletop quietly as you waited for him to finish his sentence. “What made you want to pursue screen writing?”

“Would you believe me if I said you?” You quizzed with a small smile, which grew wider when you saw him smile. You started explaining when you saw his facials prompt a continuation, “I um- I’ve always loved writing, ever since I was kid. I liked making up stories, imagining all the different lives I could live and all the different jobs I could do. It was a good escape from my mundane life,” you admitted with pursed lips. “But uh- I never really thought about turning it into a career until I started writing fan fiction about you on Tumblr.”

“How do you mean?”

“I wrote as an escape,” you said and he nodded, acknowledging what you’d told him earlier “I took myself into a different world where I could have the perfect life with the perfect guy so I could feel better. Writing was like a safe haven, a place where nothing bad could get to me. It made me happy and I realized…” You trailed off, licking your dry lips. “There must be a lot of people like me out there who needed someone else to be, someone wonderful to be with. I just- there had to be someone out there who needed a safe haven too.”

“So you started posting on Tumblr,” he finished for you and you nodded.

“I started out pretty slow, I had a few likes here and there. Um- It took a while for me to build a fan base, but eventually- I had a reasonable number of readers who supported all my pieces. A lot of them thanked me for writing something that took their mind off a bad day. Some thanked me for making them smile and-” You felt your eyes welled with tears of joy; you were still touched every time you talked about your interactions with your readers. “And some would tell me that my stories gave them a reason to hold out for a love as strong as the ones I wrote about.”

Chris smiled as he listened to you answer his question in great detail with an indescribable amount of pride and passion. He felt his heart flutter as he unknowingly starting falling for you. You were a lot like the protagonist in one of his favorite love stories, which was surprisingly a Chris Evans mini series written by a fan on Tumblr. He’d found the link lodged away in his Twitter mentions, a simple sentence “you deserve a love as strong as this” caught his attention and invited him into the world of fan fiction. He spent a whole day reading the entire series and wishing he’d the life that Chris Evans had, wishing he had the girl that Chris Evans had. He was still yet to ask if you’d heard about the series, perhaps you could help him find out who wrote it because he’d love to meet and talk to the talented and obviously lovely author who surely based the second person protagonist around herself. Maybe she was the one, maybe they could get together and try to work towards the life she wrote about.

“What I thought was a hobby changed people’s lives for the better,” you continued and he nodded, smiling. “So how can I not make that into a career? How can I waste my ability to inspire and touch people through my words? To make them realize that they deserve something great? I don’t know, I’m rambling a little.” You chuckled nervously and he shook his head. “I just feel like if I can change one life, my time on this earth has been worthwhile.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiled. “Like- that’s just-” He found himself at a lost for words as he watched you intently. He chuckled softly with a shake of his head, “you’re- you’re kind of amazing, Y/N.” You felt your cheeks flush as you bit back your growing smile. “That is- that’s an amazing answer to such a simple question. But before I say anything else, I don’t think I have anything to do with your decision. I’m just one of the pieces, y'know? I mean- it sounds to me like you would’ve done something amazing with your talent even if you weren’t a fan of mine. I was just lucky enough to be the one you wrote about, I had nothing to do with any of it.”

“Well that’s not entirely true,” you chuckled. “I wouldn’t have pursued anything if I weren’t a fan of yours.” You told him and he narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Yes, I would’ve wrote about someone else but- your success story is kind of what made me push myself into studying screenwriting. In all your interviews, you talked about pushing yourself into what scares you. Like working with Marvel and going to New York to pursue your acting career- those stories are what inspired me to pursue my own, I would’ve never if it weren’t for you.”

He smiled, unsure of what to say except, “I’m glad I could help. You’re very talented from what I could see over your shoulder,” he said then chuckled when you did. “Would you mind letting me read something else of yours? I promise I won’t judge,” he told you when you looked hesitant. “Unless you’re one of those kinky smut writers,” he teased. “‘Cause then maybe there’ll be a little judgement.”

“Hey, some of my best friends are kinky smut writers.”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Well, I don’t mean any disrespect to them. I’m just- stunned they can come up with what they come up with. Perhaps I should take a few tips, turn my vanilla based life into something more swirly.” He joked and you laughed, covering your mouth when you realized you were attracting attention.

“Like you need any tips on how to get things done in the bedroom,” you said then blushed when he smiled. “Fine,” you opened your laptop screen and turned it towards him after opening your most successful piece; your mini-series. “It’s um- It’s a mini-series, so it’s fairly long.” You explained and Chris’ heart skipped a beat; his eyes quickly scanned what was in front of him so he could determine if you were the girl he was looking for. “You don’t have to read it all, you can just-”

“Holy crap,” his eyes stopped at one of the many sentences he’d read a thousand times. “Drunk minds speak for a sober heart,” he mumbled to himself then looked up at you. Your eyes narrowed in confusion when you saw the way he was looking at you. Was that- adoration? You were about to question him when he smiled and breathed, “it’s you.”

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @xoxomioxoxo @imaginesofdreams @ateliefloresdaprimavera @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @caitsymichelle13 @michellekeehlmello @letterstomyself21 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @sammyrenae68 @brobrobreja @elizabeth-matsuoka @thegirlwiththeimpala @camerica96 @all-of-the-above11 @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @siofrataylor @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @imaginary-world-of-mine @wanderingkat77 @grantward3 @rileyloves5 @chrsmom302 @buckys-shield @mylittlefandomfanfictions @breezykpop @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @hayleesteashoppe @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @louisespecter @castellandiangelo @ccrossfire @assxmblesstuff @edward-lover18 @princessesnaddy @1d-niallerbieberforever @dxbrevgrey @bellastellaluna @christopher-or-steven @brokenwingsxix @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut (Inbox me if you’d like to be added to the tag list)

Part 3A

emeralb224  asked:

Could you do how Genji, Hanzo and Jesse will react if they learnt their s/o is pregnant.

SO, my headcanons for Genji are that he doesn’t quite have the equipment for baby-making (I’ll make a headcanon post for him at some point) but, instead of writing young!Genji or pre-cyborg!Genji, I came up a different idea that I really ended up liking. I hope you enjoy it too!



  • His s/o’s pregnancy has been a plan for a while
  • The two of them took months of decision making and sperm donor research to lead up to this moment
  • At one point they’d considered Hanzo, since he was Genji’s blood, but that idea was shot down almost immediately when realized that it would entail Genji’s brother’s dick juice in the s/o’s actual body
  • Which was like
  • Nah, we’re good here moving on
  • Hanzo’s dick juice will be in his own s/o’s body after this set of headcanons is done anyway
  • Eventually the perfect anonymous sperm donor was decided and the plan was a go
  • S/o still wanted to surprise him though, so they went to Angela after the correct amount of time they had to wait for the sperm to settle without him
  • And it had settled indeed
  • Two, to be specific
  • They flipped their shit when they found out the whole twins piece
  • Because that was hella unexpected
  • They get a congratulations from Angela then jet their pregnant ass outta there because they need to set up some sort of surprise to tell Genji
  • God only knows why they went to Hanzo for ideas
  • Of course they didn’t tell him that they were pregnant with twins, just that they were pregnant
  • More congratulations, then Hanzo tries to help them with an idea
  • He comes up with a surprise dinner (because, despite being a cyborg, Genji still loves food) of some sort and hiding a note in their empty wine glass (because obviously they can’t drink now)
  • This is actually an amazing idea, thanks Hanzo
  • So that’s exactly what they do
  • It does not go as planned though
  • As soon as Genji walks in, he knows something’s up
  • And when he sees your glass empty and his full, he gets it
  • He forgets anything about the dinner and runs over to his s/o, picking them up and spinning them around
  • Then he sets them down and holds their belly
  • “It’s there?”
  • “They’re both there”
  • That’s when he really flips his shit
  • He cries
  • He hugs them so goddamned tight and murmurs about how happy he is and how much he loves them and how much he’ll love both of their babies too
  • He tries to go into Dad-To-Be Supreme research mode
  • But his s/o tells him to calm his shit for at least an hour so they can eat because goddammit Genji I spent three hours setting this up


  • This baby wasn’t exactly planned
  • I mean children were an option for the future but mainly for the future
  • S/o went to Angela because they thought they’d gotten some sort of bug that was still around after a couple weeks
  • When they heard they were pregnant, they were worried as all hell
  • It was future plan, not a plan currently
  • Hanzo had just left on a month-long mission a couple days ago
  • They actually start crying in Angela’s office
  • Angela comforts them; practically everyone knew about their decision to wait on children
  • Apparently the condom had broke or something
  • Cue month of baby-planning terror
  • At some point, they even consider running away and having the baby alone, just to save themselves from telling Hanzo
  • Then the man of the hour gets back from his mission early
  • S/o’s baby bump is just showing up but it’s noticeable enough
  • Not to mention the amount of baby magazines and books and the various articles on raising a baby alone on their computer
  • They’d even had a bag packed
  • They’re crying, partially because they don’t have to tell him now and partially because they don’t know what he’ll think of it
  • Hanzo definitely wasn’t upset; he was just majorly confused as to why they’d think he wouldn’t want to father his own child
  • He goes and hugs them and rocks them lightly back and forth until they calm down enough for him to question them
  • After telling him the situation and their worries, he laughs a bit and hugs them again
  • He’s also teary-eyed because he gets to be a papa
  • Would hold back the waterworks though because his s/o needs him right now
  • He tells them to go unpack that bag while he gets the computer and uses it for some useful information, like what’s the best crib to purchase and what music should they play around their baby as it develops


  • Whether it’s planned or not, Jesse’s a happy boy
  • All his s/o does to tell him is takes him shopping, then pays close attention to baby stores and constantly asks him opinions on the which teething toy is better or what the baby’s first outfit should be
  • It takes him a few minutes of utter confusion until he pieces it together
  • He starts hooting and hollering and dancing around in the store
  • One of the workers are about to kick him out until he explains that he just found out he’s a dad
  • The worker’s whole attitude changes and they show them the best baby stuff instead
  • Baby shopping spree
  • A green onesie for the baby’s first outfit
  • Lots of money spent on all clothing, from skirts to shorts to dresses to polos, because their baby will be allowed to wear whatever it wants
  • Jesse demands to theme the bedroom like a Western
  • He builds all the baby furniture and paints the entire room with little to no help
  • The walls are blue with white fluffy clouds
  • He also builds a rocking horse
  • He also buys the baby their first cowboy hat and their first stuffed animal, which is a plush horse
  • While both him and his s/o are buying the baby stuff, he buys various things for his s/o specifically as well
  • He pampers the hell out of his s/o
  • The man’s hella excited
  • The Shimada brothers are both godfathers and Pharah’s the godmother
The Foxhole Court, Chapter 11 – Orange Sportsball Gets The Fuck Real

In which the Foxes play their first match of the season, I have questions about American college sports, my Percy Jackson obsession has a brief cameo, and I’m sadly less excited about Actual Sportsball Games than I should be.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

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hazylucozade  asked:

Hey idk if you are still looking for prompts because I scrolled pretty far back, but if so, how about "that's the dumbest shit I've ever heard let's do it" or ”it’s a long story that involves a lot of blood, a couple squirrels, and one hell of a headache” for any of the foxes? Thanks, I love love love your writing and I've really enjoyed looking through your blog!

I’m always accepting prompts! And thank you so much for the lovely compliments! I hope you enjoy! This is basically a shitpost in fic form. It’s a crack fic. I’m not even sorry. Also you probably need to suspend a lot of disbelief for this; just roll with it

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard; let’s do it”

Neil is still trying to get the hang of his new phone. Nicky had insisted that he upgrade to this century and had practically dragged Neil to the mall to purchase an iPhone. The rest of the Foxes were more than happy about the change, some money even exchanging hands, but there’s so much going on with his phone now. Before, all Neil had to worry about were text messages and phone calls, but now there’s a bunch of apps that Nicky keeps trying to teach him. He thinks he’s starting to get a handle on Snapchat thanks to the daily snaps from Allison. At the very least, he’s no longer confused by the way they disappear after opening them. And Instagram seems easy enough, so Neil tries to keep track of that so he can see Renee’s posts from around the world.

Neil can admit that the ESPN app is great. It’s set up to send him notifications for Exy news and score updates. It’s that app that is currently dinging at Neil as he makes his way across campus. The trade deadline is coming up for the National Exy League, and Neil’s been trying to keep up and follow the changes. After Neil reads the latest update, the striker tries to see the current NCAA standings, but his new phone isn’t cooperating. He bats at the screen a few times, but when it finally switches over to NCAA Exy, it’s the news page. Neil lets out a frustrated noise and is about to just give up when a headline catches his eye.

Neil scrolls through and reads the article the whole way back to Fox Tower. He still has his phone out and the page open as he unlocks the door to his dorm. The room is full of people, but Neil has learnt to be unsurprised by that. Nicky and Aaron are in the beanbags, a video game of some sort blaring on the television. Kevin is sprawled out on the couch with his laptop in his lap while Andrew is perched on his desk by the window.

“Hey, Neil,” Nicky greets, not taking his eyes off the game he’s playing. “How was class?”

“Did you guys know someone tried to steal the University of Texas’ mascot last night? Not the costume; the actual longhorn.”

“How unoriginal,” Nicky says. “That’s like the oldest prank in the book. I mean everyone’s—”

Nicky cuts off as he finally draws his eyes away and meets Neil’s, his face contorting into a mix of guilt and regret. The backliner opens his mouth again, but whatever rambling remedy was on the tip of his tongue, he swallows it down and snaps his lips shut. When no one else in the room has anything to add, Neil resigns himself to his desk. He can feel Andrew’s eyes boring into his cheek, but the striker focuses on outlining his upcoming essay until practice.

The news story gets forgotten, blurred away by drills and bickering freshmen and a scrimmage. But it’s still nestled a place in the back of Neil’s mind, niggling in the periphery of his thoughts persistently. By the time he’s changing out after practice, it’s made its way back to the forefront.

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Allistics... Ugh

I’m gonna raise a topic again that I may have done in the past, even if it was just a brief text post, but I really need to get my thoughts out. Okay, so the topic is basically, well… Neurotypicals. We autistic individuals have it hard, we always have. Whether its being bullied for being ‘different’, being lost in translation with our own family/friends, being shamed for stimming and told to ‘stop fidgeting’ or the infamous ‘quiet hands’ bull-crap. Those are just the tip of the iceberg. We’re often treated as outcasts just because of our disorders. Or, you get the other side of that coin where some people just come up with the ‘oh we’re all a little bit autistic…’ *Looks at camera like on The Office*.

NT’s often try and assume they know what we’re thinking or feeling, when in truth, they have no idea and they will never begin to comprehend what our worlds are like unless they’ve lived them. That really bothers me. My mother does it, even my therapist does it. I know they mean well, but I’m telling you that they have no idea how I tick. They can read as many books, blogs, articles and other material on autism and still not even scratch the surface of what I, an autistic individual experience on a day to day basis. That’s why I believe in self advocacy, but the problem there, at least for me, is my severe social anxiety. I would absolutely love to stand up for myself and backtalk a few snarky remarks NT people have hit me with over the years, but I just stand and blink like I don’t speak English.

That brings me to another thing Allistics tend to do a lot to me… maybe most of you can relate to this, but I’m not overly good at emotion and showing it on my face. I’ll laugh if I find something funny on TV or if I’m infodumping about a special interest, I’ll light up like a Christmas tree, sure. It tends to be in groups of people that my brain just goes into sort of a ‘life support system only’ mode and I’m unable to show much emotion. That never means I’m unhappy though, unless I feel that way, which I don’t normally feel anything in those situations… More times than I can count now, I’ll be sitting, minding my own business…not smiling…and somebody (as of late it’s been almost weekly at the same place I go to with the same person) will come up and tell me to smile or smile them self and point to their own face. It’s like… Well excuse me for living, pal… I didn’t realize it was customary to have a stupid smile plastered on my face just for your enjoyment. Of course I’d love to say something, but I’m so terrified to talk to people out of the blue that I just force myself to smile until they move on. I hate it! Honestly, there should be shirts or badges one can wear that state Just because I’m not smiling, does not give you the right to assume I’m upset. I’d love to just stand on a table one day in among a group of all the people who have done that to me and say “It’s just my face! I’m perfectly contented! Move on!”

Another bothersome thing is the fact that those I and I’m sure you all too, choose to tell or inform that you are autistic, some will just turn and say ‘but you don’t look autistic’ or ‘I would have never guessed it of you…you must be very high functioning!’ *exasperated groan…* I cannot tell you how many times that has happened to me and I feel like saying Well please tell me then… what exactly does an autistic person look like? and then nail them for that! Honestly, Social anxiety robs me of so much I could just retort with.  I have tons to say in my defense or in the defense of autistic persons as a whole, but either no one wants to listen, or I’m unable to get my mouth to work.

Anyway, in conclusion, Allistics suck… Autistic people have it rough and you all have my respect for holding your own, if you do…and even if you’re unable to stand up for yourself like I am, you’re just as strong. Remember, just because you don’t feel you have a voice, you always do. Whether that’s through the keyboard, speaking apps and etc. This is my way of getting my voice out there. It may go on empty ears, but at least I’m giving it a shot. I could go on about this stuff forever so I’ll just leave it at this. Thanks for reading.

Embarrassment - Part 1

Fandom: Marvel’s Avengers

Summary: A drunken game of truth or dare reveals what Y/N didn’t want anyone to know. She’d been perfectly and contentedly miserable before her slip up, but the confrontation over her little secret, which she avoids at all costs, quickly catches up.

Words: 1,243

Paring/Characters: SteveRogersxReader, the whole Avengers squad 

Warning: Consumption of alcohol, drunken reader. Sort of an AU, if we’re getting technical here, with Pietro being alive and all. Maybe a curse word?

Author’s Note: The memory/flashback is in italics. I have to say that as a whole, with the other parts, this piece is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. If people are into it, I’ll post the rest… It might take some coaxing…


In hindsight playing truth or dare was a mistake, but not the royal screw up. Getting drunk was the horrible cherry on top.

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I’m Sorry For Coining the Phrase “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” | Nathan Rabin

When I coined the term “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” in an essay about the movie “Elizabethtown” in 2007, I never could have imagined how that phrase would explode. Describing the film’s adorably daffy love interest played by Kirsten Dunst, I defined the MPDG as a fantasy figure who “exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures.”

That day in 2007, I remember watching “Elizabethtown” and being distracted by the preposterousness of its heroine, Claire. Dunst’s psychotically bubbly stewardess seemed to belong in some magical, otherworldly realm — hence the “pixie” — offering up her phone number to strangers and drawing whimsical maps to help her man find his way. And as Dunst cavorted across the screen, I thought also of Natalie Portman in “Garden State,” a similarly carefree nymphet who is the accessory to Zach Braff’s character development. It’s an archetype, I realized, that taps into a particular male fantasy: of being saved from depression and ennui by a fantasy woman who sweeps in like a glittery breeze to save you from yourself, then disappears once her work is done.

When I hit “publish” on that piece, the first entry in a column I called “My Year of Flops,” I was pretty proud of myself. I felt as if I had tapped into something that had been a part of our culture for a long time and given it a catchy, descriptive name — a name with what Malcolm Gladwell might call “stickiness.”

But I should clarify a few things here. The trope of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a fundamentally sexist one, since it makes women seem less like autonomous, independent entities than appealing props to help mopey, sad white men self-actualize. Within that context, the phrase was useful precisely because, while still fairly flexible, it also benefited from a certain specificity. Claire was an unusually pure example of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl — a fancifully if thinly conceived flibbertigibbet who has no reason to exist except to cheer up one miserable guy.

The response to my review was pretty positive but relatively sleepy. The A.V. Club was a whole lot smaller back then and the phrase didn’t really gain traction until a year later, when my colleague Tasha Robinson proposed doing a list of Manic Pixie Dream Girls for the “Inventory” feature of our site. The list, published in 2008, was titled “16 films featuring Manic Pixie Dream Girls,” and featured, along with Dunst and Portman, Diane Keaton in “Annie Hall” and Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

I remember thinking, even back then, that a whole list of Manic Pixie Dream Girls might be stretching the conceit too far. The archetype of the free-spirited life-lover who cheers up a male sad-sack had existed in the culture for ages. But by giving an idea a name and a fuzzy definition, you apparently also give it power. And in my case, that power spun out of control.

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baron| to the rescue | corbin


I plan to do !Demon Finn, Cesaro, !Alpha Roman Reigns, TJ Perkins and Seth Rollins too but not necessarily in that order. I’m writing by whichever guy strikes my fancy / inspires muse for a spin on this little plot bunny of mine.


You are a new Smackdown Diva ( and an Omega shifter ) and you’ve managed to capture the attention of Bray Wyatt. During your match with Becky Lynch, Bray and his family come down and Randy (another Alpha male) realizes just what you are and the fact that you’re unclaimed. He decides to insert himself into things but Baron Corbin comes down and attacks Bray ( because he thinks Bray is the only one interested, he doesn’t know about Randy’s intentions) and winds up carrying you out of the front area and backstage. 


Okay, so lots of biting, Randy is a major asshole in this, ie he grabs reader and starts to walk towards the backstage area with her, there’s some titty and ass grabbing, there’s A/O dynamics in play ( I tried, sorry if I failed at it guise, I’m really just going off the scant articles and things I’ve read on Omegaverse online.) and Baron is protective but he’s also kind of a dick about it too. Oh and Becky is still 1000 percent done with people’s shit so she nails Orton in the lower back / kidney region with a chair, but anyway.. prepare yourself because this one was my twistiest one yet?

ALSO, blurring reality ( production stuffs) with kayfabe ( characters / story lines are how that character is for the most part, outside of readerchan’s friendship with Becky, which the two keep secret while they’re feuding) if that makes sense?


1788+ words


@fan-fiction-galore @adriennegabriella @writergrrrl29 @wweismyguiltypleasure  @emmarablack ( hope it’s okay I tagged ya because lots of people do in Baron posts I’ve noticed on my dash) @imnoaingeal@allgirlswrestlingclub @captainyoutube @helluvawriter ( because Baron was one of your 3 choices) @flawlessglamazon ( because like one or two others you voted for all of them ) @laigy2213 @abysslooker and everybody who loves Lone Wolf aka Wolf Daddy Baron Corbin… or attempts at A/O verse fics and stuff.

Again, I tried to pull off the whole Alpha/Omega dynamic but I’m afraid I didn’t.

Originally posted by thearchitectwwe

My match had literally just ended and the referee had just raised my hand for the victory when the lights flickered and then went out and Bray Wyatt’s theme hit. “The fuck does this jackoff want?” I grumbled. According to the show’s script, he wasn’t supposed to even be on tonight.

It hit me then, it was just me and my opponent in the ring. I’m not necessarily afraid of Bray, per se… But he’s not somebody I want to have an encounter in a dark alley with either. My hand raised slowly, dragging through my sweaty hair and I took a few deep breaths.

Becky was stirring in the corner and when she realized what was happening, brown eyes widened in complete fear. I turned to her and nodded for the chair and a kendo stick and she hissed back, “Are ya crazy, lass? Have ya gone bloody mental?”

“Nope. Just not going to stand here and give the bastard the upper hand, either. If he sees us cowering in fear, Becky…” I trailed off. The problem with her handing me anything was that we had to do it in a way that stayed true to our personas.

Becks is a face… And me? I’m a heel.

We’re best friends off screen but we’re locked in a feud almost as bitter as the one she was in with Alexa not so long ago onscreen. I was in deep thought mode when Becky stood and grabbed the chair, giving me a warning look.

When she swung it, I ducked and grabbed it quickly. She ‘fell’, selling a minor injury for the crowd but really, both of us were just seeing how long Bray would sit there in that fucking chair, rocking back and forth, giving that creepy and soulless look as he watched the fight.

He wasn’t moving and he’d been there almost 3 and a half minutes.

The refs weren’t sure what was going on either, I know one of them was using his earpiece to communicate with backstage, to find out why the hell Bray was even out at the ring when he didn’t have a match or a promo tonight.

“Boss says keep this all going while he tries to figure out what’s up.” the ref whispered as he leaned down, trying to give the count for the submission Becky had thrown me into after we exchanged a hit or two with the kendo stick in the ring now.

okay, you got a kendo stick and a chair, ___. you’re one vicious bitch when you get to play with toys. You can do this… you have to do this because apparently Shane and Daniel are gonna sit back on their god damn thumbs and watch things unfold… Or someone royally fucked the script for the night… Bray is no reason to be freaking out, he’s just like any other bully… he’s just like your daddy… My mind was basically using anything it could to keep me from being thrown straight back into a childhood I frankly didn’t want to remember, a father who terrified me so much that sometimes I still flinch if something triggers a memory of him.

“He can’t be fockin serious. Does ‘e not know dis is not good? Dat lately dere’s something wrong wid Bray? How ‘e’s always poppin up nearby ya?” Becky was livid and freaking out for me as we carried on with our impromptu brawl.

When the refs got it ‘broken up’, I was on the verge of snapping because by then, Bray had stood, he was pacing the ring, he was watching me, he was yelling these things that made no actual sense and that were very unsettling. I grabbed the kendo stick and I was just about to swing when it happened and the lights at the top of the ramp began to flash red and blue as Baron Corbin’s theme hit and Baron ran down, nailing Bray with a football style tackle that I’ve never seen him use in an actual wrestling ring. They started to fight, fists were flying and so were swears and growls and during it all, I wanted to leave, I should’ve left, Becky tried to make me leave but my feet were… They were rooted to one spot.

can’t leave… Baron is out here… why he’s out here, got no fucking clue but.. he’s the only Alpha you’ve ever met that you would willingly give yourself to, gotta make sure these dipshits don’t gang up on him… I thought to myself as I did finally move a little, closer to the action, a kendo stick at the ready. 

And then I saw Randy and Luke and a newly returned Erick Rowan making their way down to ringside. My heart was pounding and my adrenaline was rushing and during all of this, I dropped my damn kendo stick…And I groaned inwardly, picking up a chair. Randy’s eyes locked on mine and I can’t explain it, it’s this… Predatory and primal look..

He hauled me up over his shoulders roughly and laughed as he muttered to himself, “Unclaimed Omega… Interesting. We’ll fix that, ___. See, Bray, he wanted me to take you backstage, wait for him… But now that I know this, seriously considering saying fuck what he wants and going for what I want… Because sweetheart, your scent is fucking intoxicating.” and I managed to punch hard enough Randy’s lower back that he stooped for just a minute. “Put me  down you son of a bitch. How about instead of drinkin that magical fuckin Koolaid Bray gives you assholes, you drink some bleach or cyanide? Huh?” as my heart started to race faster… Not once had I considered Randy being the bigger threat and in that moment, I thought I was definitely and epically fucked.

“Nope, can’t do that.” Randy replied, his voice smooth and calm as he stood me on my own feet and held me against him, his lips dangerously close to my neck, locking eyes with Baron. “Lose somethin that you think belongs to ya, Corbin?” the words were said with that cold and calculating smirk that Orton gives when he thinks he has the upper hand.

Clearly, he wasn’t counting on Becky, who despite it being completely against kayfabe, had remained out at the ring. Or the chair she nailed him in the kidneys with that allowed Randy to let me go as he dropped.

And he couldn’t nail her back because he knew he’d have gotten fined or suspended.. What he’d done to me was the most you could actually get away with on live PG rated television as far as I knew. I used the upswing to my advantage and I didn’t think, I just picked up that chair and I nailed Bray with it the second he gathered himself and came at me. “Stay down, bitch!” I growled angrily as I was about to raise the chair and swing it again only to be lifted over broad and tattooed shoulders and carried up the ramp and into the back.

“That was supposed to be me saving your ass.” Baron chuckled as his eyes roamed slowly over my body and he bit his lip, leaning in closer. I raised a brow, an unamused smirk on my face as I told him in the bluntest way possible, “I wasn’t aware I needed saving.”

“Oh you have no idea what you need, kitten.” Baron’s voice was deep and seductive with enough gravel in it tonight that the result was my panties being uncomfortably soaked… Not that it didn’t happen all the time around him, of course.

It’s kind of hard for him not to have that affect on me when he’s the only Alpha around who’s ever caught my attention and held it for more than a five minute span. …. or when he’s the only Alpha I want to be knotted by… my mind finished.

My lip quivered as his finger trailed across it and I whimpered involuntarily when his hands gripped my hips and he pulled me close, that damned smirk on his face. “But I think we both know what you want, kitten.”

But I had to be stubborn, so when he started to lean down so he could kiss me, I put my hand firmly in the center of his chest. I fought like hell for at least three seconds before I gave in because hey, it’s Baron and I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that he was totally used to girls dropping their panties for him in like negative two seconds and hell yes, I was going to be different; I was going to be stubborn.

But as his lips met mine in a gentle yet bruising kiss, that hand in the center of his chest to keep him at bay? It clutched at the leather vest he wore. The swearing and the grouchy grumbling I’d been doing? Turned into a series of whimpers and moans as his tongue slid past my lips and dominated mine for control of the kiss. When his hand left my hip and crept up my shirt, squeezing my breast over the satin of my favorite bra, I groaned and rubbed against him, my hand tangling in his sweaty hair, tugging, biting at his lip almost. I was aching.

“Unclaimed Omega my ass. You’re mine, kitten.” Baron mumbled against my lips as he slid me up his body and muttered calmly, “Wanna get out of here?”

“More than you know.” I answered, shuddering in pleasure when Baron rutted against my soaked core, hissing at the wave of pleasurable pain as it washed over me. “That way I can thank you properly.”

His eyes met mine and flashed golden for a split second as he picked up on exactly what I meant. “Now this.. This I can’t wait to hear, kitten.” his rough stubble left burn on my neck as his lips ventured down, teeth latching on, sucking a huge mark into my neck. “If it involves you being a claimed Omega..” he started, breathing heavily as he rutted against my thigh again, moaning into my mouth as he finished, “then you read my mind kitten. Because there’s no fucking way Orton is gonna try to take my mate.”

“Your mate, huh?” I asked, my tongue slowly trailing over his lower lip, rubbing against him, aching for him to just take me somewhere and fuck me until I couldn’t move. I craved him, it was the worst I’d ever craved something before.

“I didn’t stutter, kitten.” Baron’s hand gripped my ass as he nipped at my lower lip and I whimpered against his lips, nipping at his in return. “Can’t have you parading around back here unclaimed. Especially with your scent…”

It was a rare thing for me, but I turned at least four shades of red under the lustful intent gaze he gave me as I got even wetter and had to clench my thighs together even tighter at just the thought of what was coming later. “ Funny, that’s what Orton said.” I was stirring the pot a little. Baron growled against my neck, “Fuck that fucking cunt Orton. You are supposed to be mine. I want you for myself.” and I giggled softly. “Relax, Baron.. I would rather die than be with that… Asshat.”

There’s only one Alpha for me and his name is Baron Corbin. Sorry, not sorry, Orton.

Avenging Angel: Part 8

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 1682

Warnings: None

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4 Part 5Part 6 – Part 7

“This one, or this one?” Braxton asked, holding up two ties.

“You can pull both of them off,” you replied distractedly, scrolling through an old article about one of your father’s old partners.

Braxton tossed the ties onto the dresser and came to sit next to you on the bed, kissing your cheek. “What’re you reading?”

“An article on Charles Haverton. He worked with my dad a while ago. This article was posted a month before they broke up.”

“And you’re trying to find out why they called it quits?” Braxton guessed correctly. “Find anything?”

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Escape; pt. 6

Reader x Jungkook // (???)!AU // 5681 words

Summary: Everyone has a number over their heads that says how useful they are to society from 0-100. You have a number ‘4’. You leave the city for some peace but you meet your cocky neighbor who seems to get on your nerves.

Genre: Fluff?

Y/L/N refers to your last name/family name

A/N: Sorry for the wait guys! but yeah haha. I’m sorry if this chapter seems a little slow paced and messy ): but it’ll be worth it… I think

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6.5 // Part 7


There’s no place he’d rather be right now. The girl that seemed to understand him the most was wrapped up in his arms, laughing with him and he felt like for the first time in a long time, everything was right where it’s supposed to be. In fact, he was so happy that he didn’t seem to notice the pair of eyes that were watching the both of you from afar.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Jung Hoseok,” Mr. Jeon says as he leans back in his chair and rests his feet on his desk.

“Sir,” Hoseok says as he bows.

“Had enough of being posted at that side town?”

“Yes, sir. I think I’ve served enough time there.”

“What makes you think I’ll have you back at headquarters after that failure with Y/N 2 years ago?”

“Well… you’re working on figuring out diadem aren’t you?”

“What do you know about diadem?”

After Hoseok broke things of with you, he told Mr. Jeon that he had failed in getting any information out of you. To be perfectly honest, you had absolutely no idea about the inner workings of Y/N Logistics and this whole operation was a bust anyway. Hoseok knew though that if he stayed in the city, he’d bound to run into you so, he lied to Mr. Jeon, saying that you had an inkling of Hoseok’s true intentions and Mr. Jeon then decided to banish him to one of the side offices in a nearby town.

Although it was a small town, Hoseok enjoyed his time there. It gave him time to heal and to forget about you. Every month, Hoseok took a trip back to the city to visit his parents and catch up with old friends. He’d kind of forgotten all about you and your family with time. He had pushed the incident so far back into his mind that it was almost as if you never existed but the universe…. The universe just loved to torture him.

It was a relatively hot day in the city and Hoseok decided to get himself a smoothie to cool down. As he picked up his drink he spotted a young brown haired male sitting in the corner of the shop. Kim Taehyung. 2 years ago, Hoseok had taken it upon himself to befriend Taehyung by frequenting his favourite shops and attending coding conventions (even if he had zero knowledge about coding) just so he could grow closer to him. At the time, he was an essential piece to the puzzle because Hoseok had heard murmurings that Taehyung would be the one who was in charge of the safety of all high security level information at Y/N Logistics.


“Hoseok? Buddy, where have you been?” Taehyung looks absolutely shocked but he quickly recovers. He stands up and pulls Hoseok in for a quick hug.

“Ahh, my job sent me to a remote town so I’ve kind of been off the grid for a while.” Hoseok answers with a slight smile.

“It’s been almost 2 years, no? Since I last saw you.”

“Just about I guess… How have you been?”

“Argh, I had the worst day yesterday. I used to work on this project called diadem and—“ Taehyung pauses for a while and he furrows his eyebrows worriedly. “a-and it’s just a mess… but whatever seeing an old friend like you almost outweighs that whole situation.” He continues with a smile.

Taehyung continues talking about his current job and how he’s been in general but Hoseok had zoned out the moment he heard diadem.


“My dad you know he has a slight obsession with our family code. Diadem. Each letter in the word stands for something and… I’m boring you aren’t I?” You said as you looked at your feet.

To tell you the truth, Hoseok hadn’t really been paying attention to all that you were saying. Here at the lookout point, you looked absolutely gorgeous as your skin bathed in the moonlight. He didn’t want to hear about your family because it reminded him of how getting closer to you was supposed to be a job. He wanted to think that in this moment, it was just you and him and nothing else.

“No, no… I’m listening. Family code. Diadem. But… Y/N let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about you. Talk about your dreams… like where do you see yourself in 2 years?”

“I see myself… with you.” You reply sheepishly.

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Proud Dad: Con Crashing

Sebastian Stan x Reader

Read the first piece in the “Proud Dad” series 

I’m looking for anyone willing to make a cover graphic for this series! please let me know if you’re interested!

Summary: Sebastian is attending press conferences and conventions. You can tell he’s tired and grumpy so you bring your 3 year old daughter to surprise him.

- This is really long, jsyk


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The Problem Finale: Thoughts on Sherlock “The Final Problem”

This is probably going to get long, but I don’t really want to split it into two posts, so just brace yourselves.

I’m planning to cover the following:

1) What TFP Got Right (in my opinion)
2) What TFP Got Wrong (also imo)
3) About Johnlock
4) Some personal thoughts on #3 and the series as a whole

You won’t find wank or hate in this post. Quite the opposite. And I’m hoping it will be accessible and interesting regardless of your opinions on Item 3.  

I’ll do my best to respond to any asks, but I am headed into a writing deadline of my own and need to switch my attention to that for the next several weeks, so I might be a little slow on replying. Please feel free to get in touch, though. Would love to hear from you.

So here we go…under the cut:

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There are a Million Coffee Shop AUs but What’s Just One More?

Summary: Dan likes lattes almost as much as the cute boy with tattoos who sits across the cafe
Word Count: 1588
Author’s Note: written for iwouldshowyoutheworld. i finally wrote a coffee shop au. (so sorry for the confusion i had over who this fic was for, i completely got jumbled today.)

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vanderrbilt  asked:

RACHEL hi i want h/l "like ships in the night" please :) thankies!

ooh okay so i’m trying to think out of the box here, because i immediately thought of, like, a pirate au, which isn’t super creative for a fic title about ships. so, what about a famous/not famous au. 

louis is…. let’s see, i’m tired of actors and singers, let’s go with… louis is the next jon stewart. he has a comedy news program where he basically yells for an hour every night about every goddamn thing going wrong in this country. he’s hilarious, of course, but he’s also sharp as a blade and has a brilliant mind for politics, and he can tear people apart with a tilt of his head. he has guests on his show and while he always gives them a chance to be good, if they step over a line and say something he disagrees with, he eviscerates them. he becomes, quite literally, the voice of a generation too cynical to trust the actual news media. 

his private life has always been a bit of a mystery. he has to be seen as impartial, a middle voice with no issues that affect him more than others. he’s not married, his fans do know that much, and he’s got a few famous friendships that seem to be legit (like niall horan, pro golfer and children’s book author, and liam payne, music mogul). however, despite the number of sneaky pictures fans take of him while he’s out at restaurants, seeing shows or movies, at concerts, whatever, they can’t quite suss him out. 

which means, of course, that while louis is very much out in his personal life, in his professional life he’s tightly, tightly closeted. 

but that’s okay. he tells himself that being the ~voice of a generation is worth a thousand times more than being able to take his boyfriends on dates outside of his apartment. if someone is with him, then surely they know how important his work is (but, of course, the reason he’s a serial dater is because no one actually does understand, and they all tend to slip away about a month in, claiming they “just can’t do it anymore.” that his job takes over his life. that they can’t handle only having him a couple of hours a week while his job gets him the rest of his waking hours and some of his sleeping ones too). 

so louis’ show is more popular than ever, and he has a triangle tattooed on his ankle but no one ever sees it under his desk. he’s decided maybe eternal bachelorhood might be the best thing for him. 

and then the show hires a new writer, some broad-shouldered, holes-in-his-jeans, PhD in politics, silk scarf in his hair and five dollar t-shirt, five minutes to finish a sentence but it’s worth it to hear the whole thing, absolute fucking angel named harry styles. 

harry’s first day in the writing room is like a firestorm. he’s there before anyone else, five national newspapers spread out in front of him, and he has a list of eight major news stories that have happened that louis has yet to cover. he also wrote out a script already that not only includes all eight topics, but ties them all together in a way that shows who people should really be angry at (the government. it’s always the government). harry’s passionate and whip-smart and when someone says “isn’t that a bit risky?” he just grins and says “yeah, it is.” 

he and louis click immediately, in a challenging, headstrong, debating-for-so-long-louis-loses-his-voice sort of way. louis’ head writer, grimmy, can’t tell if they hate each other or if they’re wildly in love. the rest of the staff, when they see harry pitch a suggestion and louis’ eyes light up and he leans forward to interrogate why, just sit back and watch the fireworks like spectators at a tennis match, back and forth and back again. harry and louis are the first people into the offices in the morning and the last ones to leave, and then grimmy isn’t wondering if his best writer and his showrunner hate each other anymore, because they so clearly love each other that it’s almost embarrassing to watch. 

at one point, louis takes a moment and realizes he hasn’t dated anyone in six months, but he’s happier than he’s ever been. he spends three nights a week sleeping on the pull-out couch in his office, but he wakes up to harry sipping coffee and flipping through the Times so it’s not too bad. he’s in love with harry and he’s pretty sure harry loves him back but it goes unspoken, in coffee deliveries and “here’s an article i think you’d like” and little brushes of their knees under the writing table. harry finds a tiny rainbow teddy bear and puts louis’ sunglasses on it, and it’s louis’ favorite new thing. 

soon, though, it all goes to hell (because it has to). a topic comes up with one of louis’ guests, maybe some homophobic Senator who came onto the show knowing exactly how louis can turn the tides and make you look like an idiot, so he’s immediately on the attack. he prods at louis for the whole interview until, finally, louis snaps and gives him the reaction he was looking for. he yells for a good two minutes straight, and then when he leans back, relishing the wideness of the Senator’s eyes, he hears the silence in the studio hit him like a brick. 

oh, shit. he just came out to a hundred people in the audience. 

and a homophobic Senator. 


there’s no time for damage control. they can edit that bit out of the show before it airs, but greg is saying that it’s already trending on twitter and, hell, there’s even a video. the Senator is escorted away, smiling smugly at the chaos he’s caused, and louis stammers his way through the rest of the show. the audience is rapt, waiting for him to acknowledge it. 

so he does. he sees the teleprompter showing his closing lines for the night, but he ignores them, and instead goes ad lib. “so,” he laughs shakily, and the audience seems to soften a little. “that probably wasn’t what you were expecting tonight, was it?” he tells them he’s so grateful for their support, confirms that, yes, he is gay, and that if he didn’t talk about it it was for the good of his career. he tells them that he’s scared, a little, about what this means, now that everyone knows, but he’s excited, too. 

“i’m ready to be me,” he says, and then, like a thousand shows before, looks into the camera and says, “thank you for joining me, and good night.” 

the staff offices are weirdly quiet, though everyone’s bustling around in the usual post-show rush. louis sits in the writer’s room and watches it all happen, pretending he can’t see everyone watching him right back. 

“hey,” says a voice next to him, and louis almost laughs. of course they sent harry. “nick says we can either cut it and address it tomorrow night, so we have time to plan, or we can run it tonight and deal with the fallout tomorrow. up to you.” 

louis doesn’t hesitate. “run it,” he says, then grins up at harry. “dinner?” 

louis doesn’t usually watch the show when it airs, too busy thinking about the next night, but he does this time. he covers his face but he can’t block out the words, “i’m ready to be me,” and he doesn’t know if he’s ever been more genuine on camera. 

“i can’t believe i did that,” he whispers. 

from next to him, harry says “i can. you’re the bravest person i know.” 

the next night, louis is business as usual, starting the show with a story about the ukraine. the only difference is a little rainbow bear on the corner of his desk among the rest of his knick-knacks, his sunglasses perched on the bear’s nose, and a guy watching from just offstage, grinning so hard louis can see his dimples from here. 

(when they start sending out wedding invitations, they send one to the now disgraced ex-Senator, with a heartfelt note on the back thanking him for being such a terrible person that louis had to come out on camera just to shut him up. they also attach a copy of GQ, and they’ve bookmarked the 12-page spread about harry and louis, the writing dream team behind the country’s favorite show.) 

Sweet Slumber [Oneshot]

Pairing : Victuri / Victori / Vikturi (?? yall omg) [Yuri!!! on ICE]
Genre : Friendship(?), Fluff, Romance, Humor
Rating : G
Words : 2,445

A/n: i wrote a victuri fic in 3 hours i am both terrified and satisfied. Like i literally havent been writing fanfics in a YEAR and then all of a sudden, a few days before my national exams start, BAM here i am with the gay. Either way, idk if my followers here even know this account exist anymore, so i’ll reblog this to my main account! Enjoy! (i miss saying this omg)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I know this seems weird but you seem to post gifs of Krysten Ritter quite often and also use them in context of abuse so I was wondering if there is a specific backround of this like a movie she was in or her personal story? :)

Yes! She plays the protagonist in the Netflix/Marvel series Jessica Jones. 

(I’m wayyy to attached to her character and that show, so this will probably be a long rant of a post, and might just be stream-of-consciousness because I’m too emotional about it to structure my thoughts well.)

Media Portrayals of Abuse Previous to Jessica Jones

Previous to that show, I was constantly really frustrated with the inaccurate portrayals of survivors. Every time they were either Permanently Damaged Victim™ or their trauma was literally their entire personality or they were the Perfect Victim™ who never did anything wrong in their life and everyone believes them, or they’re the Confident Badass Woman with a Tragic Backstory™ whose recovery was literally just leaving the relationship and suddenly they’re Empowered.  

Abusers are always portrayed as just blatantly physically abusive– all black eyes and misogynist slurs and yelling. It’s always obvious and once people find out he’s abusive, everyone hates him and it’s just a matter of catching him, no one takes his side, no one is convinced by him, no one else is abused by him, he never uses manipulation techniques– only blatant threats, etc. 

Rape is always depicted either on screen where the audience can sexualize it, which is absolutely horrifying, or it’s alluded to and implied but never shown/stated directly so it can be ambiguous, which allows people to sympathize with the rapist because they don’t see the reality of how cruel they are and they can compartmentalize. Both are very problematic. 

Just, so many portrayals are just full of inaccuracies constantly that feed into cultural misconceptions about abuse and the effects of trauma and the process of recovery that make it much, much harder for survivors to identify abuse and to be believed and to have others understand what they’re experiencing. 

Another thing I hate in most media is the huge emphasis on Forgiveness™ and Moving On™ for survivors and for the Tragic Past™ and the Redemption Arc™ for abusers. Every time, writers always want to show recovery as a process wherein the survivor is able to truly understand why the abuser became the monster they are and then forgive them and that show of selflessness inspires the abuser to truly change and become a healthy person after all. Which is straight up dangerous! 

That idea is not recovery, that idea is literally what keeps many survivors in abusive relationships. Survivors often start out excusing all the abusive behaviors because of their abusers’ past and because they think if they pour enough encouragement and love and resources into someone that they have potential to be a good person. 

However, my recovery– or at least starting the process of recovery– was defined by the moment when I stopped forgiving and stopped excusing what was done to me and realizing that I can’t save people and that some people genuinely are irredeemable. They’re just awful and dangerous and don’t respect me at all. And I owe them absolutely nothing. My recovery began the moment I could be angry. Being pissed off about having been violated was the healthiest thing I had experienced in years when I was able to once I first got out. 

It had gotten to the point where inaccurate portrayals of abuse and trauma were straight up triggering to me and I couldn’t handle them at all. It made me feel even more isolated, because non-survivors only ever saw these portrayals and so how everyone culturally learned to interact with me and understand me as a survivor was in these ways that made me feel deeply uncomfortable and unsafe. 

Why Jessica Jones is Different

I straight up love Jessica Jones. 

Originally I had zero interest in it because I confess to never really being a Marvel fan and not being into superheroes in general. But I read an article on Cracked called “5 Ways Jessica Jones Perfectly Portrays Being Stalked” (though the title has since changed).  In it, the writer describes parallels between Jessica Jones and her own abuse history and I was amazed that a show was apparently sidestepping all these pitfalls. 

Then I saw this scene posted on tumblr: 

Kilgrave: “We used to do a lot more than just touch hands.”

Jessica: “Yeah. It’s called rape.”

Kilgrave: “What? Which part of staying in five-star hotels, eating at all the best places, doing whatever the hell you wanted, is rape?”

Jessica: “The part where I didn’t want to do any of it! Not only did you physically rape me, but you violated every cell in my body and every thought in my goddamn head.”

Kilgrave: “That is not what I was trying to do.”

Jessica: “It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do. You raped me again and again and again—”

—Jessica Jones 1×08 “AKA WWJD?”

And God, I could literally imagine that conversation taking place between me and my rapist. 

So I googled it to make sure that Kilgrave doesn’t get away with everything (because I’m still fucked up over Breaking Bad because of that shit) and then decided to watch it for myself. 

And Holy Shit. They did everything right. The show begins a year after she got out of the relationship and she’s not magically fixed. She has PTSD and is an alcoholic and is struggling with depression. She wears the same pair of jeans for like two months straight and barely showers or cleans ever. But she’s not broken, either, she’s capable and funny and strong and smart. She solves problems. She tries to help people. But she’s not a perfect survivor either– she fucks up, she does selfish things, she’s problematic, she hurts people. But she doesn’t just become an abuser like some ‘cycle of abuse’ thing– she owns up to it and struggles with self loathing and tries to do better or make it up to someone after she fucks up. They just consistently made her a whole, well rounded person and a survivor at the same time. I’ve literally never seen that before or since. 

And not just Jessica Jones, either. Every single protagonist is a trauma survivor. Trish Walker is a survivor of childhood abuse perpetrated by her mother, and is faced with a physically abusive partner later on in the show. Luke Cage and Malcolm are both abused by Kilgrave. Hope is sexually abused by Kilgrave and is suicidal. Wendy was abused by Hogarth (portrayal of abuse in f/f relationships!). 

And they deal with trauma in different ways. One of the things I love about the friendship between Jessica and Malcolm is that they both react to boundary violation in totally opposite ways. 

Jessica reacts by just making way too many boundaries and making those boundaries ridiculously harsh– she tries to self isolate by being shitty to everyone she loves, she is rude to strangers to get them to stay away from her, she doesn’t trust anybody ever. 

Malcolm reacts by just not establishing any boundaries ever, which ends up with him getting drawn into dangerous and distressing situations that he should have never been involved with and getting drawn into relationships with people who aren’t treating him well. 

By the end of the show, their distinct recovery arcs bring them to the same place in opposite directions. Jessica establishes healthy boundaries by allowing herself to be vulnerable and telling Trish that she loves her. Malcolm establishes healthy boundaries by confronting Jessica about how she’s treated him and basically holding her accountable and being like look, this is shitty, do fucking better or I’m gone. And that was so, so important. 

The show also shows such a wide variety of abuse and of abusers. There are so many situations that I’ve lived through. There are so many lines in the show that I have literally said, or that my abuser has literally said. 

It’s just an amazingly powerful show to me and has the best survivor representation I’ve ever seen. It’s almost symbolic to me at this point, like a talisman of recovery and of supporting other survivors. 

That’s why I use gifs and images of Krysten Ritter as Jessica Jones everywhere when I’m talking about abuse. :) 

Thank you for asking!