i've watched this movie so many times and just now realized this

anonymous asked:

What do you do when art block hits you?


So I’m going to preface this with this is how I combat my own lack of motivation. People are different than me. What works for me might not work for you. Sorry it got lengthy. I guess I had a lot to say about it. For that reason I’m putting it under a cut.
Also because I wanted to draw froggits.

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I want more fics where Stiles is unaffected by Derek’s hotness. Like, real people interact with attractive ppl every day without making a fool of themselves or drooling or doing stupid things. Instead of Stiles being dumb, unable to talk, or immediately falling in love with Derek, I want him to look at Derek, think “wow that guy’s hot,” and then immediately go “that dude is out of my league so moving on.” So, Stiles just treats Derek like he does everyone else.

Derek is really really into Stiles. So, he does everything he can to impress Stiles. He wears tight jeans, tank tops, works out with Scott and Danny in front of him, and takes off his shirt and walks around him front of him. Except…nothing works. Derek never has trouble getting people he wants. He knows he’s hot, and so he works that. Except it’s not working on Stiles.

And Derek is really really confused. Whenever he takes off his shirt or wears his best ass-hugging jeans, Stiles notices, sure. But so does Allison, who’s basically married to Scott, and Lydia, who Derek has overheard screwing Jackson too many times to count for the past couple years. Kira blushes, and Erica - well, Erica may be engaged to Boyd, but she never misses an opportunity to put her hands all over Derek’s sweaty abs and pecs. Danny always fucks him with his eyes, and Parrish stares a little too long, his cheeks a little too pink, and Derek thinks maybe he should hook up with Parrish again just to appease his bruised ego. Because Stiles looks, but then he stops looking because apparently it doesn’t impress him.

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sunday, 3am

“Gently,” she stressed.

Sitting on the sink-counter, she looked washed-out in the harsh fluorescent light of their bathroom, a little spatter of blood staining the shoulder of her light blue scrubs, her skin a wintery kind of pale and her freckles fading as though they’d been one of God’s afterthoughts. Her braid rested tattered and ripped down her spine, long red strands falling in front of the bruises on her cheek, and as he carded her hair back behind her ear, she flinched involuntarily, her shaky hands stilling on her lap, her breath hitching.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, the bag of ice in his hand hovering before her, his brain buzzing in the overtired way he used to feel accustomed to. If his circadian rhythms were reliable, then he and his body estimated that three in the morning, maybe half past, had come and gone. A long time ago, she’d told him that keeping lights on from the nighttime hours of ten-to-ten harmed the brain’s ability to produce melatonin, but he figured that light would be the least of their worries tonight.

Softly, she met his gaze, then looked back down at her lap.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing at the word. “I’m just…I’m still a little shaken up.”

He nodded, then gingerly brought the ice to her cheek, and though she recoiled at first, luckily she eased against his touch, let out a deep, exhausted breath.

“Is there any bleeding?” she asked, her voice muffled by the ice.

“None at all,” he said.

She swallowed, said, “The nurse there seemed like she was doing a great job of cleaning it.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re not concussed?” he asked as he leaned against the sink, the house around them so still and silent that it made the winter beyond them feel heavier and thicker than it already was. 

Looking up at him, she delicately pressed her lips together, said, “Had the nurse check. No headache or dizziness. I’m fine, Mulder.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. 

Though she avoided late shifts and preferred not to work on Saturdays, she’d been on a Saturday evening to Sunday morning emergency room shift, eight pm to eight pm, but a one am call let him know that a drunk patient, a punch to the face, and some police involvement meant that she would be coming home early. The last time he, in her words, went caveman left them both embarrassed and uncomfortable, but now, he wished he could’ve been there, could’ve watched over her and had her back so that some drunkard would’ve never decked her behind a modesty curtain, wouldn’t have had a chance to let her head thud against a sterile linoleum floor before punching her again. Though he wanted to think of this protectiveness as more than an ancient biological imperative, though he wished he didn’t find himself at fault for something so clearly irrelevant to his existence, he still brought Duane Barry and Phillip Padgett and all of the other men who had wronged her to mind, wondered once more if he could’ve done more. While at the Bureau, he could’ve argued that he was her partner, that it was of the utmost importance for them to watch each other’s backs, but now, he could hardly merit the wish.

And had he been there, he probably would’ve been decked too, only he would’ve cried about it instead of stoically driving home afterward like she did. Sometimes, he figured, the universe chose to punch the ones who could take it, not the ones who couldn’t.

“You’re never working a night shift again,” he said, hoping to elicit a laugh or at least a pained smile; thankfully, she reached toward him, wrapped her fingers in his open hand, kept her eyes down but let him know that she was present and receptive anyway. 

“I sure hope not,” she said, “but if they ever want me to, I’m sure that citing this incident will make them change their minds.”

Softly, he laughed, and though he figured it would hurt her to smile, the purplish and red smears of bruises on her cheeks keeping her from moving her face too much, she still quirked her lip, the movement minute but visible. 

“Did you have any Advil before you got home?” he asked.

“I had one before I left the hospital.” 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

She sucked her lips in again, met his gaze, so he nodded in understanding. He figured neither or them would be getting much sleep tonight.

“Well,” he said, his voice turning theatrical, “I can offer some warm milk-”

“No hot liquids,” she said quickly. “Have to keep the swelling down.”

“Okay,” he said, off-put. There went his ideas for chamomile tea and maybe a warm bath in order to calm her down. “Then, cold water.”


He squeezed her hand.

“What are you looking for, then?” he asked. “My mind goes numb after midnight.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “A movie, something mindless. Just until we feel we could fall asleep.”

So she shed her blood-smeared scrubs and opted for pajamas and thick socks; while she migrated to the couch, held the ice against her more bluish cheek, he rifled through their bookshelf, found Sleepless in Seattle and liked the irony it provided, so he popped the tape in, the lights off in their living room, the fish tank fluorescent and bubbling in the background, the winter winds shifting the shutters on their fixer-upper farmhouse. He sat on her less-bruised side, and as she spread a shared blanket over their laps, he fast-forwarded coming attractions of many years ago, her two hands wrapping around his free one. While the movie began, he tuned Meg Ryan out and kept his eyes on her instead, tried to survey her body for telltale signs of stress. 

She’d told him long ago that she felt anxiety not in her mind but in her limbs, in her joints; while her thoughts told her to push forward, her body cringed and faded, her demise coming not from her will but from her physical breakdown, so he’d tried to be a constant for her, had kept track of her hours and made sure that, even when she seemed so determined to finish just one more stack of paperwork, she would go home for a good night’s rest instead. From those many times, he knew what to look for: raised shoulders, shaky hands, huffed breaths, glasses pushed up far more often than one would expect. However, tonight shifted that response because her breakdown had come from a patient, not from herself, so while she took shallow breaths during the movie, he traced his thumb against the back of her hand, let her lean into him with her face angled so that his shoulder and her bruises never quite made contact. As four am ticked past, he realized that he’d never watched this movie in full, but because he’d distracted himself during the first half of the film, he hadn’t a clue where the plot went.

“Scully?” he whispered, almost wincing at how his voice interrupted the special, rural silence around them. 

When she didn’t shift, he craned his neck, and though he should’ve been able to tell through her long, languid breaths against his chest, he only noticed that she’d fallen asleep when he looked down and saw her closed eyes. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off, and with deft, gentle motions, he managed to lift her up without waking her - after all, she could sleep anywhere, from passenger’s seats of cheap rental cars to bleach-ridden motel beds to his old leather couch back before he’d been able to offer her a bed instead - and carried her upstairs though his aging joints protested with each step. 

Thankful that he’d left the bed unmade after she’d called, he managed to slip her beneath the overturned sheets on his side of the bed, tucked her in before he climbed in on the other still-made side. Out here, the nights were dark save for the endless lines of unobstructed stars in the sky, so he kept their bedroom’s blinds up, soft light falling over her bruising face, the rise and fall of her chest shifting the duvet while she slept. Her pillow smelled like that lavender shampoo she liked, and though the stuffing was too thick for him, he found that he could still relax into it, their respective alarm clocks off for now, her bedside book-stack dwindling as his seemed only to grow larger, her reading glasses askew and the closet door left open in a way that would’ve scared him as a child. 

And he presented himself with two lonely options: either he could work out hundreds of different scenarios that left her unscathed and him some kind of half-assed hero, or he could watch her soft breaths until their cadence lulled him to sleep. For once, he picked the second option and drifted off before morning began to creep through the windows.

anonymous asked:

emotional-ish prompt: I've got a few weeks sober and a couple weeks in the program. I like how you write newly sober alex. Could you maybe write maggie going to an open meeting with her. or just like generally just alex doing pretty well in recovery and maggie being her usual supportive self? Thanks!

Alex still hates the whole meeting thing.

She doesn’t talk on the way, and she doesn’t talk there, and she doesn’t say much on the way back, either.

But every single day – sometimes twice a day, those days when J’onn practically forces her downstairs to one of the agent meetings because Jeremiah, because Eliza, because Kara got hurt, because Maggie got hurt, because Winn got hurt, because James got hurt, because J’onn himself got hurt – she makes herself go.

Every single day, sometimes twice a day, Kara drops her off. And every single day, sometimes twice a day, Kara picks her up.

And every single day, sometimes twice a day, Maggie’s waiting there with Kara after.

It becomes a routine.

“How was it?” Kara will ask.

“I want a drink,” is all Alex will say, and Kara will pale as she holds her hand, but Maggie will grin softly, sadly, knowingly.

“You gonna have one, Danvers?” she’ll ask, and Kara will always be awestruck at how gentle, at how loving, at how adoring, the steel-edged detective’s voice gets around Alex.

And that’s where the response varies, and that’s where sister and girlfriend can gauge how Alex is doing.

On the nights that are going to be full of raging and full of misdirected anger and full of begging, she’ll start by answering Maggie with a, “why not, it’s all I’ve been doing for the past few years anyway,” and Kara and Maggie will exchange a soft glance and Kara will take one side and Maggie will take the other and they’ll take her home and they’ll listen and they’ll validate and they’ll hold her when she breaks and they’ll soothe her while she drifts into restless sleep.

On the nights that are going to be full of Kara going home alone because Alex is going to fuck Maggie senseless, is going to fuck Maggie hard, is going to fuck Maggie rough, is going to fill Maggie up with her fingers, fill her own lips with Maggie’s wetness so she doesn’t fill them with bourbon, she’ll start by answering Maggie with a, “not if I can have you instead,” and Maggie will gulp and blush and lick her lips and Kara will groan and adjust her glasses and speed away muttering about some emergency or other.

And on the nights that are going to be full of soft touches and easy laughter and old musicals and prank calling Winn as he’s out on a date with Lyra, she’ll start by answering Maggie with a, “no. No, I’m not. You can be proud of me now,” and Maggie will kiss her softly and Kara will blush and Alex will swoon and they’ll debate which movie to start the evening with the entire way home.

She doesn’t slip up, even though she wants to.

She doesn’t give in, even though she’s burning for it.

She doesn’t let go, except when she’s in Maggie’s arms and nothing can hurt her.

“You know I’m proud of you, Ally,” Maggie whispers one night, a few weeks into Alex’s sobriety, a couple weeks into her program; a couple weeks into what makes DEO training seem easy in retrospect.

“For making you cum five times in as many minutes?” Alex counters, her voice thick with sex and her own orgasms, thick with love and her own release.

Maggie chuckles and splutters, and decides not to point out – not right now, anyway – that Alex is the only woman who’s ever made her splutter. “I didn’t – it wasn’t five min – “

“It kinda was, Sawyer.”

“You timing me, Danvers?”

“I mean – “

“Alex. Seriously. I’m proud of you.”

Alex sighs and turns – Maggie had been holding her, had been kissing the nape of her neck, but she wants to see her eyes, now, wants to watch her face, now – and waits for Maggie to elaborate.

“You’re so gorgeous, Alex,” she whispers, and Alex’s entire being melts. “I…” She strokes Alex’s hair and she kisses her nose and she surprises herself to realize she’s almost crying. “You know, everyone thinks you’re tough because you scare the shit out of Winn and can defeat a team of hit men with a pool stick, and they think you’re strong because you single-handedly blew up an entire Cadmus facility and all that. And they’re right. But you… to me? Those aren’t the reasons you’re strong, Alex. Not the only ones, anyway.”

Alex nearly chokes on her own breath and her eyes widen and her pulse quickens.

“What are the reasons? To you?” she asks, and Maggie hasn’t heard her voice this small since Jeremiah, since ‘babe ride or die includes AA meetings, okay, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere, you’re perfect, it’s okay.’

Maggie kisses her nose and she kisses her eyes and she stares at her like she’s never seen anything quite as beautiful, because she hasn’t.

“You didn’t have a drink today. And you didn’t have one yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that. And you’re not going to have one tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that. But you know what, Alex? If you did? You’d just fight harder, because that’s how strong you are, and you’d get back here all over again. Because you’re that powerful. Because you let Kara take care of you. Because you let me take care of you, and J’onn and James and Winn. Those things are the strong ones, Alex. Not just you being what everyone else needs. You letting people be what you need. That’s… you’re amazing, Alex. You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you, I… I’m so proud to be yours.”

Alex blinks out tears and quirks out a soft grin and kisses Maggie’s still slightly swollen lips gently.

“Mine, huh?”

“It’s called being cherished, get used to it, Danvers.”

anonymous asked:

Hey there! So, something recently made me disappointed with some fans of mysme. I've seen some fans who attempt to change the settings (mostly to Japan or America). I once met someone who full on gave them English "nicknames" because she didn't want to attempt to pronounce or use their proper names. I don't know if I'm overreacting or anything, but it bothered me. So, can you do random HCs to honour Korean culture? Like going on vacation somewhere in Korea, or celebrating a 100 days anniversary?

A/N: why do people do that wtf?? I mean i know we somewhat change the culture when we write certain requests pertaining to how an mc looks because sometimes the culture doesn’t really look kindly on the appearance but as someone who isn’t korean, i can’t get into the mentality to reject a request like that or anything, ya know?? Because it can be harmful and hurt someone (i keep it in the back of my mind what the actual view is so i dont just…. disregard it, but i do feel terrible for not addressing it) but i’d never completely REJECT the culture and change their names or anything because just what the fuck ~Admin 404


I’m sorry it’s so short omfg

               -Okay y'all, I’m pretty sure Zen knows traditional dances and our MC has to beg him for DAYS to teach them one. Any of them. Buchaechum (fan dance), Nabichum (butterfly dance), even Ilmu (line dance). Any of them. All of them. Just- JUST TEACH MC ZEN, DO IT

               -LOTUS LANTERN FESTIVAL IN HONOUR OF BUDDAHS BIRTHDAY! It’s a celebration that everyone in the group makes time for! Seeing all of the gorgeous lights and lanterns is enough to put everyone in such a good mood! The group makes it into a slight competition- who can bring MC the prettiest lantern? Winner gets a kiss on the cheek from MC! yeees mc, yes

               -Jumin has THE MOST BEAUTIFUL terraced garden you’ve ever seen in your life. He invites you over to help him with it every now and then. It relaxes him and hopes that it could do the same for you! The two of you could spend hours sitting by the lotus pond, drinking some sort of imported and expensive tea this rich guy has to have, talking about anything and everything plus helLO YOU’D GET TO SEE JUMIN IN SWEATPANTS

               -Jaehee. In. Hanbok. Think about this for a little bit. Colourful, beautiful, and just- what else can I saY???? JAEHEE IN HANBOK

               -YOOSUNG LOVES CELEBRATING HIS VERY FIRST 100 DAYS ANNIVERSARY he might not have a ton of money to spoil you like he’d like to, but he does get really creative and goes hardcore. Takes the knowledge he’s gained from all of the clubs he’s been in and makes you a ton of gifts! Coffee, cards, dinner, he makes it all just for you! He does it every 100 days though so he has to get more and more creative about it and sometimes has to go to the rest of the RFA for some ideas (MATCHING SHIRTS AND HE’S EVEN BOUGHT YOU A COUPLE’S RING BECAUSE HE WANTS TO SHOW PEOPLE HE HAS A S/O THAT HE LOVES VERY MUCH)

               -Remember when Jumin called Yoosung’s mother and he was so mad he promised to slap him with Kimchi? Ya know how Kimchi is a symbol for Korea and is considered strong? Well he definitely gave Jumin a hard slap if that counts; MC has it on video and all you can hear is the *smack* and Saeyoung laughing in the background

               -You and Saeran have had a few drinking contests, and Saeyoung cannot believe how many bottles of soju the two of you can go through?? How are you both still breathing?? It’s even worse when you add Zen into the mix, it’s as if doesn’t work on any of you. Yoosung gets one shot and he’s out for the rest of the night

               -Jaehee and MC plan a hike at least ONCE a month because the poor girl needs fresh AIR and it’s good for the both of you, y'all get out there and earn those pajeons (fritters) and dong dong ju (rice wine) at the top of that mountain!

               -You and Yoosung have to drag Saeyoung out of the house sometimes, but the three of you end up at an internet cafe more often than you’d like to admit. One time though, there was one person in LOLOL who kept killing all three of you, and the anger just kept rising- which meant the voices kept rising as well. The person on the other side of you all kept trying to stifle a laugh each time. In the Rage of Saeyoung™, he almost flipped the table until he realized the one beating you all was Saeran on the other side


               - You also can’t tell me that Jumin hasn’t tried to dance along to a few every now and then; MC has a picture they keep to themselves in remembrance

               -You and V watch the movie Shiri almost religiously?? When the two of you have movie marathon dates, it’s played at least once (“IT’S A CLASSIC, MC. CLASSIC”)

               -It’s hard to go on any dates with Saeran, but you did get him hooked on a few different K-drama’s and he reminds you constantly that he HATES YOU because of it. Don’t you DARE watch an episode without him because the boy can hold a grudge

               -K A R A O K E!!! All of you. Almost every weekend. Competitions. Somehow Saeyoung tends to win them except that one time you convinced Jumin to participate and WOW okay

athruluna  asked:

i absolutely love your meta about pennywise in the sewers when he's first talking to georgie i was thinking the exact same thing! do you have any opinions on the scene when he asks billy if he's not real enough for him and what that means for penny's character? i've read the book and watched the movie sooo many times im just constantly in awe of other people's' takes on it and yours always seems to hit the nail right on the head. 🙌

Okay so it’s been ages since I read the book and I’m not sure if it has an analogue to that scene from the movie but my take in the film was this:

This might be the first time anyone has ever managed to fight through Pennywise’s illusions?  The way it reacts to this kid saying none of this is real is ridiculously over the top, and why even bother specifically targeting these children when it knows they want to harm it?  It could just seek out other kids.  Oblivious ones like Georgie.  But no.  It focuses all its effort and attention on The Losers.  This might be the first time anyone has ever been able to fight back even somewhat successfully, and Pennywise does not like that at all.  It’s angry about it.  It wants them to suffer.  Hell, when Bill said that, Pennywise was about a second from nomming down on Eddie, but it immediately stopped because HOW DARE YOU.

I think Pennywise takes genuine pride in the things it does.  It thinks it’s funny.  It thinks it’s clever and creative and it probably hasn’t ever heard anything but its own feedback since it showed up on Earth an eternity ago.  And now its food source is insulting its work?  This mortal human child?  Where does this little brat get the nerve?  He can’t even transform into anything!  He couldn’t stop his brother from getting eaten!  The ingrate!  What does Bill know about ART?!

So some of the response there, yeah, I see it as genuine offense and hurt.

But of course the most important thing to keep in mind about Pennywise is that it’s a monster metaphor for the struggles in the kids’ actual lives.  Those struggles being abusers and bullies.  And at its core, that’s what Pennywise is: a bully.  And the thing about bullies is that inside, they’re always cowards.

This is why Pennywise ends up reciting Bill’s poem under its breath toward the end of the movie when it’s losing.  The poem is something Bill recited to try and overcome his stutter (which, as with most things in the story, is a metaphor for fear).  By the end, Bill’s overcome his fear but Pennywise has realized it’s losing and actually getting hurt, and that’s why it says the poem.  The Eater of Worlds, the unstoppable force that’s reigned over Derry from the beginning of time, is the frightened child, flailing around like a confused boggart and whispering mantras to try and save itself.  It doesn’t have the strength of conviction in its beliefs and its power that The Losers do.  Bullies don’t have that security.

To tie this back into the “real enough” scene, part of what the clown is expressing in that moment is fear.  After all, its power depends on other people being scared of it.  Here’s a kid who not only isn’t scared himself, but is managing to persuade a friend to see through Pennywise’s illusions as well.  This may be the first time Pennywise sees the kids as an actual threat.  It’s scared, so it blusters to cover that up.  And in true bully form, it goes for the lowest blow it can think up: “It was real enough for Georgie.”

anonymous asked:

Ty so much for answering my ask! I was hoping to get some advice, I've read some of your posts but Idk if maybe I missed some. I'm 24, living with my parents and siblings. I have stayed around trying to help my then dysfunctional family emotionally and later as I got older economically as well. However I'm now ready to have my own little space which I've never had, but I'm scared because I would more than likely be living paycheck to paycheck once I do that. So any tips would be so great!

First of all, I am so excited for you! Deciding to move out is such a huge and exciting step. You don’t deserve unnecessary stress in your life, and having your own place is one of the best parts of “Adult life”.

Living Alone Tips

1. PKW. Phone, keys, wallet. Every time you go anywhere. Check twice. The worst part of living on your own is having to rely on yourself to never forget to lock yourself out or leave your wallet at a sandwich shop in a mall. Make absolutely sure you have duplicates of your keys (I would get a couple made) and give one to a friend who lives nearby who you can count on. I also like to keep an extra set inside the apartment itself in a secure place, just in case. Your landlord can let you in during office hours, but giving a key to a trustworthy friend helps you 24/7.

2. Cleaning routine. You don’t have to sit down at a writing desk and draft this out, but spend a few minutes coming up with a basic cleaning regime for you to follow. It’s definitely easier to do a little each day, but if that doesn’t work for your schedule set aside at least an hour and a half during your time off to get your apartment spotless. I don’t know about you, but whenever I deep clean my apartment I feel like I’m living in a hotel for a day, and I absolutely love it.

3. Make a “moving” shopping list. This is everything you will need (minus food) for your first week at your new place. First aid kit, cleaning supplies, tape, cat food, etc. Your first week moving into your new place will be stressful enough, you don’t want to be halfway through setting up your living room and realize that you forgot to buy trash bags.

4. Secure yourself. I’m not the most agile or fast person in the world, and I do live in a mid-sized city that has a good deal of crime. The apartment complex I live in is very safe, but I still like to double lock my front door at night. It might be smart to keep some pepper spray or a baseball bat somewhere in your apartment, just in case.

5. Stay social. Even the most anti-social person gets lonely. Make sure to hang out with your friends, not just your co-workers, your actual friends. Get out off your apartment every few days and go see a movie, get a cup of coffee, go people watching at the park, etc. It’s easy to get depressed if you’re living alone and doing the same things the same way every day- allow yourself to mix it up.

6. Meal prep. It can be stressful and seem useless to cook complicated or “fancy” meals when you’re living on your own. Plan your meals for the week and make a list before going shopping. Get yourself enough food to make a variety of dinners that will only take you fifteen minutes. If you do want to go crazy and make steak and mashed potatoes for yourself, make enough for two meals. Also, nobody is going to think poorly of you for stocking your fridge with a couple frozen dinners.

7. Customer service. Living alone means that you are going to be doing a lot of talking to customer service representatives. Get comfortable talking to people over the phone. Tell the rep what you need as quickly as you can, and try to be polite because customer service at a phone center is a garbage job that doesn’t pay well. On the flip side, don’t be afraid to ask for a manager if you’re upset or unhappy with your service. Take their survey at the end of your phone call, tell them how unhappy you are. It’s someone’s shitty job to look at all those surveys, no complaint goes unheard. Companies with great phone service: Verizon, Apple, Amazon. Companies with awful phone service: USPS (literally the worst), electric companies, health insurance companies.

8. Guest space. This is not required, but it’s a good idea to have some sort of space for a friend to stay the night. A friend of mine had a bad breakup, showed up at my apartment with ten minute’s notice, and then fell asleep on my couch after an hour of crying. It as 7:30! Whatever, she needed it. Keep an extra blanket and pillow in your closet, I like to keep travel sized shampoos and conditioners in my bathroom cabinet on the off chance a guest wants to use my shower. I got these at a hotel for free, but they’re available at CVS and other pharmacies.

9. Toilet paper. Don’t let yourself run out of toilet paper! I like to buy more when I notice I only have one roll left. The same deal goes for paper towels.

10. Enjoy. Living on your own is simoltaneously exciting and exhausting, but an all around must-have experience. Enjoy the freedom to forget to make the bed, to decorate your bathroom however you want, to have ice cream for dinner, to watch reruns of Friends and cry when Rachel decides to move to France. Make sure to give yourself lots of space to move at your own pace, but please remember to eat three meals a day and to go to the doctor’s for a checkup at least once a year!

Additional Resources

1. Apartment hunting 101: My definitive (and very long) post about all things apartment hunting.

2. First apartment advice: There are so many things that need to happen before you can actually “move in” to your new home. This post will help you get started!

3. Budgeting on minimum wage: My post on supporting yourself while working for next to nothing. It can be done!

4. Savings: My thoughts on how much $$ you should have saved up before moving.

Hope this helps!

how-i-met-your-mulder  asked:

Blanket? :)

you wake to the sound of a door closing, and your first thought is well, that’s symbolic.

you’re in his apartment, on his couch, and still wearing your pantyhose; at some point in conversation, you must’ve fallen asleep, and he must’ve spread that patterned blanket of his over you, pulled it up on your shoulders in the way he knows you like. the last time you woke like this, he was sitting alongside you, the rented starship troopers tape - his idea, of course - left unwound in the vcr, your last memories being those from twenty minutes into the movie; the time before that, you’d been awake since four in the morning because, of course, he’d called you and claimed he needed your expertise in regard to a pressing matter even though you know he just wanted to hear your voice, so that evening, while you wore lacy lingerie beneath your work-clothes, you conked out long before he could realize you’d made an effort. though you knew going into this that it would be a marriage, not a courtship, you wish that you at least felt some discomfort toward him, that you would keep your makeup on all night and sneak away to reapply it, that you would cover up in front of him so that you still held some air of mystery. with daniel waterston, you were elusive, the other woman, the young and malleable mind, the woman of the future; with mulder, you’re the partner who falls asleep on his couch. though you scoff yourself for thinking that, insist that what you have now is far more real than anything you ever had with daniel was, you still wish you accented your femininity more often. you wish you still knew how to be romantic.

but instead, you fall asleep on his couch, and now, you can hear the sink running, so you figure he’s in the bathroom. last week, he told you that the valve must not be working because the faucet leaks, but after the case with the luckiest man on earth, he figures he should hire someone to fix it. soon enough, you’ll have to teach him how to use a wrench.

you check your watch; the night’s still young, and you don’t plan on going home, so you’re going to bed in one of two ways: naked or clothed, sexed or unsexed. regardlessly, you won’t be spending the rest of the evening on his couch, so you shrug out of the blanket, messily fold it onto the edge of the cushions, crack your sleepy joints as you stand. though the thought of exercise, be it walking up a flight of stairs or exerting yourself in other ways, makes your muscles tense, you count the days anyway. four, five…ten. it’s been ten days since you last had sex with him, not even for lack of trying. though he wanted to stay over, and though you wanted to spend time with him, journal articles and crows in vermont took momentary precedence, so it’s been ten whole days. before you can think the course of actions through, you pull off your blazer, shimmy out of your skirt. though the easygoing pace of what you have with mulder is comfortable, you’ll be damned if you ever go more than ten days without him again, so you pull off your shirt, your brassiere, abandon your pantyhose on the floor. when the door to the bathroom reopens, you pick up the blanket once more, wrap it around yourself, push your clothes off to the corner of the room, sit back down where he left you.

“hey,” he says as he reenters the living room, as he sees your open eyes. “did you have a nice nap?”

“yeah,” you say, flustered; suddenly, you’re cold, and the chill brings your bare skin to a heady alertness. with the blanket covering your shoulders and the tops of your thighs, you appear not to have moved since he left.

“do you need me to drive you home?” he asks kindly, goodheartedly, as though ten days is nothing, as though he doesn’t feel deprived. 

“no,” you say. “i’d like to stay.”

“okay,” he says, then offers a hand to help you up, a hand you don’t take. furrowing his brow, he asks, “is everything alright?”

“yes, of course,” you say preemptively. 

then, you stand alone, take the blanket up with you, but before he can turn away, before he heads to bed, you let the blanket pool at your feet, the living room lamplight casting you in a warm glow, your piquant body open for him, your eyes demanding something between war and worship.

as he rightfully should, he gapes.

For @vaporofficial and @puckerupmikey camp counselor!5sos blurb night here’s some camp couselor!calum

“Do we have everything?” You asked, slightly out of breath from spending the last hour running around came like a chicken with its head cut off. Everyone was engaged in a scavenger hunt, even the counselors like yourself. With a prize of pizza from the Domino’s in the nearest town after weeks of terrible camp food, everyone wanted to win.

“Let’s see.” Julie, your most organized camper and therefore the one you’d entrusted with the list of items you had to find stepped in. She pulled the list from her pocket and began rattling off items. “Acorn.”

“Check.” Another camper Molly answered. This one had been easy, you’d simply had to spend a few moments crawling around on the ground near the oak trees.

“Stamp with the American flag on it.”

“Check.” This was from Abby, who had supplied the stamp, ripping it off a letter she had received from home a few days ago

“A selfie with Call-me-Beth.”

“Julie,” You warned in your best counselor voice as she poked fun at the camp director. Beth was nice but pushing sixty and attempting to maintain her cool by dying her hair bright red, wearing shorts too short for a woman her age, and insisting that the campers call her by her first name, earning her the call-me-Beth nick name. Pretty much all of the campers knew it, as did all of the counselors, and whenever it started to die down someone would inevitably bring it back.


“Check.” Chloe said, attempting to bring you back to topic. She waved the Polaroid around.

“Issue of Tiger Beat.”

“Check.” Natalie replied, waving it around like a flag. This had been easy enough. In a cabin full of eleven year old girls, teen magazines were in surplus.

“An ingredient in a s’more.”

“Check.” Jenna looked sheepish as she held the bag of marshmallows she’d smuggled into the cabin. Not that it would count against you. Scavenger hunts were kind of Machiavellian, the ends justified the means. It didn’t matter how you got something, or why you already had it if that was the case, all that mattered was that you got everything on the list.

“Something red.”

“Check.” Lindsay held up her red T-shirt as she spoke.

“A picture with a counselor that is not your own.”

“Check.” Britney held up the Polaroid the girls had taken with your best friend and fellow counselor Candace. Your campers had pretty much forced her into taking the picture and even though it had come out terribly, the girls hadn’t wanted to waste time taking another. Candace wasn’t ready at all, her eyes closed and mouth open, and arms and legs and heads were cut off in the rest of the picture, but it didn’t matter.  

“A feather.”

“Check.” Destiny replied, twirling it around in her fingers. As a good counselor you probably should have been able to identify what bird it had come from, but you couldn’t and had told them it was from a robin to stop their questions.


“Check.” Chelsea held up the tube of MAC Ruby Woo that you had reluctantly handed over.

“The only thing left is a band shirt.”

Everyone was silent and you knew that they were all racking their brains, trying to remember what they packed and if they had the item or not. You didn’t have to think long. Counselors were required to wear a uniform, T-shirts with the camp logo on them, so you hadn’t brought any other shirts. Of course you had a few at home from concerts you’d been to, and you were kicking yourself for not bringing one along now.

“No one?” You asked. Although you knew their silence was an answer, you still had to try.  

The girls all shook their heads. You found it hard to believe that out of ten 11 year old girls, not one of them had a One Direction T-shirt with them. But you supposed if they didn’t want them to get ruined or dirty it kind of made sense. Camp wasn’t necessarily the cleanest place.

“So now the question is where do we find one?” You bit you lip, waiting for a response. You certainly knew where you could find one, but it would involve breaking about five camp rules and as counselor you didn’t want to be the one to suggest it. But it someone else did…

“Calum’s always wearing them.” Chloe said. “Maybe he’d let us borrow one?”

You smiled. She’d pretty much nailed what you were thinking, and now you didn’t have to be the one who came up with the devious plan. Calum was a counselor like yourself, but the boy’s camp and the girl’s camp were kept strictly separated. The campers only met up for activities like arts and crafts and swimming, and their cabins were separated by thick trees.

Calum had been a counselor for three years, like yourself. Even though you didn’t see much of him, you knew that he was pretty rules optional. First was the band shirt thing. He blatantly ignored the staff uniform, wearing band shirts instead. Call-me-Beth had scolded him about it several times his first year, but he had pretty much ignored her and continued wearing whatever he wanted and by now she’d given up the fight. The rules about no food in the cabins (which you were pretty liberal about yourself) and 10 pm lights out also went ignored. You knew that every boy who came to camp wanted to be in Calum’s cabin. You’d never had the chance to ask him about it, but the rumor going around camp was the he almost hadn’t been able to return as a counselor this year because toward the tail end of last summer he and a couple other male counselors had snuck down to the main road and hitchhiked to town.

You always speculated that if that rumor was true, the reason why he’d been allowed to return was because he had many good qualities, so many that it outweighed all the trouble he caused. He was amazing with the kids, they always knew they could go to him if they were feeling homesick or having another problem. You’d been shocked when he told you that he only had one sister, and she was older than him. He acted like he had loads of younger siblings that he’d helped raise. He would make a great father one day. He was nice, and one of the funniest people you had ever met. And, not to mention, he was incredibly attractive and insanely charming. Which was why you’d had a teeny crush on him ever since you first met.

“So you’re suggesting we sneak through the woods to the boy’s camp?” Abby asked. You said a silent thank you to her, again so you didn’t have to suggest the crazy plan.

“Yeah.” Chloe turned to you. “Y/N what do you think?” She was biting her lip nervously and you knew she was nervous you were going to veto the idea. Your campers had realized that you were kind of a stickler for the rules (aside from the food in the cabin thing, but you wouldn’t want to subsist just on what the mess hall provided either) but all of the rules went out the window when it came to scavenger hunts. You’d tried to explain the Machiavelli thing to them, but it pretty much went over their heads.  

“It might work.” Your campers cheered at your approval. “But we better get going. The sun’s going down and I’m not walking through those woods in the dark.”

There was a narrow dirt path weaving through the woods, and you stuck to that as you made your way toward the boy’s camp. You glanced behind you every so often to make sure all of your campers were still following you like ducks following their mother, since they were being unusually quiet. You figured that they were scared of getting caught, and they were also probably listening for the bell that signaled that the scavenger hunt had been won and everyone had to return to the mess hall.

Finally, you saw a clearing up ahead and knew you were getting close. As you drew closer, you realized that something was off. The camp was totally empty: no boys running around wrestling, sitting around the campfire or sharing scary stories. Something another counselor had told you earlier in the week came rushing back to you and you swore under your breath. “The boys are on a nature hike tonight. They’re spending the night up in the mountains. Calum’s not even here.” The girls crowded behind you, peering over your shoulders and seeing for themselves that the camp was empty.

“Even better.” Molly said.

You looked around to see the other girls nodding in agreement. “Why?”

“You know which cabin is Calum’s right? Just sneak in and grab the shirt. Calum won’t even know.” Natalie explained.

“Just bring it back after we win and no one will know you took it.” Jenna finished.

You hesitated. Breaking and entering was a little farther than you’d wanted to go, but looking around at your campers and seeing the hopeful look they all had in their eyes, you couldn’t say no. “Alright. You guys will be keeping watch right?” Ten heads bobbed in response to your question. “Okay. If you see anyone coming do that lame owl call we learned in Nature Studies.I’ll be back in less than ten minutes, hopefully with the shirt, and we’ll walk back together.” Your campers saluted you, letting you know that your message was heard.

You saluted back, then stepped into the clearing. Your half expected some booby trap to go off like in an Indiana Jones movie or something, but nothing happened. Feeling better now that you knew you weren’t going to be crushed by a giant boulder, you quickly made your way toward Calum’s cabin, 4B, glancing around for any boy who may have dodged the camping trip and was still around. You turned the knob uncertainly. All of the cabins had had locks on their doors at one point, but about 90% of them didn’t work anymore. It would be just your luck for Calum’s door to have one that was still functional.

Luck was in your favor for once and the door opened easily. You pushed open the door, immediately being hit by the smell of sweat, dirty socks and wet clothes. You wrinkled your nose, wondering how boys could live like this, and entered the cabin, letting the door close behind you. You made a beeline for the counselor’s bed, the only single bed in the room full of bunks. You quickly rummaged through the clothes in the cubby near the bed, wanting to get in and out as quickly as possible. You frowned as you double checked, not finding a band shirt. All you could find were jeans and T-shirts, either plan or bearing the name of a college or some sports team. You sighed as you glanced at the pile of dirty clothes near the foot of the bed. You’d been hoping to avoid this, but it was the only other option. He’d probably worn off of his band shirts earlier in the week and they needed to be washed. You made quick work of the pile, but still came up empty.

You were on your hands and knees, digging through the pile again when a voice came from above you. “What are you doing here?”

Your gaze drifted up the long legs to the defined abs and broad shoulders, finally stopping on Calum’s brown eyes, which were fixated on you. He didn’t look mad, you realized, something that worked in your favor. More confused. “I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be on a nature hike?” You fired back, also wondering why your campers hadn’t alerted you to the fact that he was coming.

A few seconds too late you remembered that Calum had always been kind of work duties optional as well as rules optional. Though there was no doubt that he loved his campers, it wasn’t unlike him to pawn them off on someone else for the afternoon and spend the day at the lake. “I just wasn’t feeling it. I was out on the back porch when I heard something rustling around in here. I thought you were a raccoon or something.” That explained why you hadn’t received a signal. The back porch was opposite where you’d left your campers standing. Calum smiled. “But I think I know why you’re here.”

“You do?” You asked, springing to your feet as you realized the awkward position you were in. You were still about a head shorter than Calum.

“Yeah. The scavenger hunt?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Michael found Call-me-Beth’s activity list and the list of stuff for the scavenger hunt. He warned me to hide my band shirts.”

That piqued your interest. “So they’re around here somewhere?”

“Yeah.” Calum smiled. You watched as he reached into his pillowcase and pulled out a white Green Day tank. “What’s it worth to you?” He unfolded it and waved it in front of you like a matador waving a flag in front of a bull.

“Two fifty and a stick of gum?” You offered. If he wanted something tangible that was pretty much all you could offer right now.

He shook his head. “Not good enough.”

You thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all of the negotiation techniques you’d seen on Shark Tank. “What do you want?” You tried.

“A kiss.” He said simply.

Your heart skipped a beat. “From me?” You asked, finding it hard to believe.

“Yeah.” Calum shrugged. “I’ve always kinda thought you were pretty. Liked how good you were with the kids. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while and I figure now’s as good a time as any.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t fantasized about Calum a couple times too. “I’ve always kinda felt the same way about you.” You admitted. “So…” You let the sentence trail as you wrapped your arms around Calum’s neck and pressed your lips to his.

He smelled like sunscreen, pine needles and bug spray, smells you’d always associated with camp. His skin was warm from being under the summer sun, and his lips were soft as he worked them against yours. The kiss ended much too soon, Calum smiling widely as he pulled away. “Can you sneak out tonight? Meet me by the lake?” He took your hand in his.

You nodded, still a little breathless from the kiss. You’d never sneaked out before, but Calum seemed worth the risk.

He held the shirt out to you. “You definitely earned this.” He said, letting you know that he felt the same way about the kiss that you did.

You took it, feeling incredibly satisfied. “Thank you.” You weren’t sure if you were thanking him for the kiss or the shirt, probably both.

Calum smirked. “Thank you.”

Your cheeks went red at his suggestive gaze.

“Your campers might spontaneously combust if you keep them waiting them any longer.” Calum told you, tilting his head toward the door.

“Right.” Your cheeks flared as you realized that you’d essentially forgotten your girls. “I’ll see you tonight? By the lake?” You asked, heading for the door. Now that Calum had mentioned it you realized that it had been way longer than ten minutes. Your campers were probably worrying.

“Tonight by the lake.” Calum confirmed. “Just after lights out.” He held the door open for you as you exited.

“Just after lights out.” You repeated, pushing yourself up to your tiptoes for another quick kiss. When you broke apart, the first thing you saw were your campers, doing a terrible job of hiding in the woods and giggling when they saw you and Calum. Seeing them reminded you of your original purpose you had for coming here and you bounded down the steps of the cabin, running back to your girls, waving the shirt in front of you.

As you rejoined them and they all began peppering you with questions about Calum, you thought that you might be leaving camp this summer with more than just mosquito bites and poison oak, you might be leaving with a boyfriend.

The Incredibles Sentence Meme
  • "Every super hero has a secret identity. I don't know a single one who doesn't."
  • "Who wants the pressure of being super all the time?"
  • "Superladies, they're always trying to tell you their secret identity. Think it'll strengthen the relationship or something."
  • "No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. Sometimes I just want it to stay saved, you know?"
  • "Sometimes I think I'd just like the simple life, you know? Relax and raise a family."
  • "Settle down? Are you kidding? I'm at the top of my game."
  • "Girls, come on. Leave the saving of the world to the men? I don't think so."
  • "I'm your number one fan!"
  • "You always say be true to yourself but you never say which part to be true to."
  • "This is because I don't have powers, isn't it? Not every super hero has powers, you know. You can be super without them."
  • "When you asked if I was doing anything later, I didn't realize you'd forgotten. I thought it was playful banter."
  • "You didn't save my life! You ruined my death!"
  • "It is time for their secret identity to become their only identity."
  • "Coincidence? I think not!"
  • "The last thing you need is temptation."
  • "Dad always said our powers were nothing to be ashamed of."
  • "I said shut up, you little insect!"
  • "What do you know about normal? What does anyone in this family know about normal?"
  • "Look, what if we actually did what our wives think we're doing?"
  • "I performed a public service! You act like that's a bad thing!"
  • "They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity but if someone is exceptional...."
  • "We appreciate what you did in the old days, but those days are over."
  • "Let me guess. It got smart enough to wonder why it had to take orders?"
  • "I've got to warn you, its a learning robot. Every moment you fight it increases its knowledge of how to beat you."
  • "He's attracted to power, so am I. Its a weakness we share."
  • "My God, you've gotten fat."
  • "Supermodels, nothing super about them. Spoiled, stupid little stick figures with pouty lips who think only about themselves."
  • "I used to design for gods."
  • "I never look back, darling. It distracts from the now."
  • "No capes!"
  • "Would you care for more mimosa?"
  • "I learned an important lesson. You can't count on anyone, especially your heroes."
  • "Now you respect me, because I'm a threat. That's the way it works."
  • "You sly dog! You got me monologuing!"
  • "Luck favors the prepared."
  • "I let this happen, you know. The new sports care, the getting in shape, the blond hair, the lies."
  • "I was right to idolize you."
  • "I wish my parents played Mozart because half the time I don't know what anyone's talking about."
  • "We're dead! We're dead! We survived but we're dead!"
  • "You'll get over it. I seem to recall you prefer to 'work alone'."
  • "I knew you couldn't do it. Even when you have nothing to lose, you're weak."
  • "You want to go toward the people that tried to kill us?"
  • "Remember the bad guys on those shows you used to watch on Saturday morning? Well these guys are not like those guys. They won't exercise restraint because you're children. They will kill you if they get the chance. Do not give them that chance."
  • "Doubt is a luxury we can't afford anymore."
  • "Don't think and don't worry. If the time comes, you'll know what to do. It's in your blood."
  • "Next time you gamble, bet your own life."
  • "Why are you here? How can you possibly bring me lower? What more can you take away from me?"
  • "How could I betray the perfect woman?"
  • "You gotta admit this is cool! Just like a movie!"
  • "You mean you killed off real heroes so that you could pretend to be one?"
  • "When everyone's super, no one will be."
  • "You are my greatest adventure. And I almost missed it."
  • "Honey, where is my super suit?"
  • "Greater good? I am your wife! I'm the greatest good you are ever gonna get!"
  • "I can't lose you again! I can't. Not again. I'm not...strong enough."
  • "You took away my future I'm simply returning the favor."
  • "That was totally wicked!"

anonymous asked:

Hey, this blog is everything I've been looking for! Now for the question: How much truth is there to the "drill sergeant", "authority equals asskicking" and "a father to his men" tropes? And while we're at it, do you think you could do a masterpost on common military tropes in fiction? :o

I love exposing terrible tropes, so this question is everything I’ve been looking for! However, I don’t want this post to be TOO long, so I’ll go ahead and do one trope at a time (and don’t worry – I will definitely be putting up a master post of tropes eventually).

Disclaimer: I did basic training in Fort Jackson, which is stereotypically an “easy” basic training, though I’d beg to differ. If anyone has personal experience with another unit, please feel free to add your experience!

Trope: Drill Sergeant Nasty
Let me start off with what a drill sergeant is.

Drill sergeants are typically E-5 to E-7, although E-6 is that preferred sweet spot. Drill sergeants basically replace platoon sergeants as far as unit structure goes, and in a basic training battalion there is still the first sergeant, commander, etc. The only people who wear these little hats

which are called campaign covers, are the drill sergeants themselves. You will often interact with people who are not drill sergeants and who won’t be wearing these hats. Males wear the flat one, females wear the one with one side pinned up. They come like that; it’s not a personal stylistic choice.

Now I can’t say whether it varies, but from my experience, drill sergeants are three to a platoon. Your platoon will most likely be about forty to sixty soldiers. Two of your drill sergeants will be either E-5 or E-6 and be your platoon sergeants, and your last drill sergeant will be an E-6 or E-7 as your platoon leader. Lately, the army has had female drill sergeants in high demand, and as far as I know they’re making a special effort to enlist at least one female drill sergeant per battalion.

Attention: you ONLY address drill sergeants AS “drill sergeant.” Not sergeant, not sir/ma’am. Drill sergeant. That’s it.

Drill sergeants train you and instruct you, make sure you get fed, make sure you get sleep, and basically babysit you while you’re in basic. They march you around, teach in classrooms, give you tests, and show you how to do new exercises, obstacles, or techniques. They know how to get in the mud and do the shit they’re making you do; don’t you worry. Drill sergeants also regularly get a day off because they regularly have to do 24 hour duty to watch over the soldiers, and occasionally some of them get to go home at the end of the day. Remember that drill sergeants didn’t enter the army to be drill sergeants; it’s an assignment you can volunteer for and then be chosen for after completing extensive training. Drill sergeants have their own lives and their own jobs outside of basic training, and after a couple years they’ll go back to the regular army to do their regular job. 

Now…how do drill sergeants actually act?

Pretty much everything you have seen in the movies about drill sergeants is patently false, at least as far as modern army is concerned. (say, 2009 and up) There’s been heavy pushing from up high to make drill sergeants less problematic because of how frequent sexual assault and other complaints are in the military. You’re not going to be hearing a drill sergeant say “listen up, ladies!” anymore, not even to a bunch of people who are in fact ladies. My drill sergeants stomped that shit outta the recruits real quick when I went through basic. “They aren’t women; they’re soldiers.” In other words, if someone is writing a modern day drill sergeant calling his male soldiers “ladies” and says “that’s just how they are,” they’re full of shit.

The constant name calling – maggot, shitstain, worm – is uncommon now as well. Typically we’re called “warriors,” (as we’re not soldiers until we get through basic training) and you’d be surprised how much loathing and disappointment a drill sergeant can seep into the word “warrior.” That’s not to say it doesn’t happen, (because it does; make no mistake) but drill sergeants are not supposed to harass or bully their soldiers. I know a drill sergeant who was told off for calling us “crackheads” once, although my favorite drill sergeant’s favorite insult was “dodos,” and he was clear to use that one.

Drill sergeants actually ask you on day one to write up a little profile about yourself. Now this sounds silly, but it serves a real purpose, and they do REALLY want you to add your background. I recall my drill sergeant explaining to us that at one point he was yelling at a soldier a little too close and he raised his hand (to point, not hit) and she started having a panic attack, and it turned out that she’d been a victim of domestic abuse and the yelling, proximity, and the raised hand had triggered her. He said had she put that in her profile, he would’ve handled her way differently.

Of course, the army can only make so many accommodations. If you literally cannot stand being yelled at at all in any capacity, then the military is not for you. You’re expected to be able to stand up to a good dishing of abuse.

My drill sergeants did usually know when the time came to be the hard ass drill sergeant they were supposed to be and when to pull someone aside and ask what was going on, especially when they got to know the soldier. A shitbag who’s always causing trouble might not get the same sympathies, but if a person is usually a pretty good soldier and they’re just not on their game, our drill sergeant would look into it and make sure things were okay. At the end of the day they are supposed to break you and make you stronger, but they also realize that we’re human, and if you’re TOO broken then you’re useless. 

Oh…don’t…apologize to your drill sergeant. I was a smart ass and said “I beg your pardon” to apologize and I actually got away with that sometimes, but if you say any variation of “i’m sorry” or “i apologize” you’ll probably get chewed out.

Drill sergeants also CANNOT TOUCH RECRUITS. Unless it is to help them, instruct them, save their lives, or save the lives of others. No punching, no kicking, no smacking, no grabbing. That goes double for the soldiers. You do NOT want to face the repercussions of putting a hand on your drill sergeant.

Finally: “drop and give me twenty.”

Mhmmmmmm nobody says this ever. Easiest tell-tale sign you know nothing about drill sergeants.

Things a drill sergeant will say if they’re about to punish you with push-ups, in order:

“Half-right, face!” - If you told a whole platoon to get down and do push-ups, they’d be getting all in each other’s way. Think about how a formation looks; there’d be legs everywhere. This positions them so that they have more room.

“Front leaning rest position, move!” - the position in which you execute the push up is called “front leaning rest.” I’ll be doing an entire post on the push-up at a later time; don’t you worry.

“In cadence!” - the punished soldiers repeat this command. It means that they’ll be expected to count the number of push-ups they perform, and they better do it LOUDLY. “Exercise!” At that command, in unison and following the pace of the cadence, everyone begins to push.

Sometimes if it’s just one or two soldiers, a drill sergeant will just be so aghast at your failure that they’ll just say “get down/get pushing.” You’re expected to get down and start pushing until the drill sergeant tells you to stop, but typically you won’t be down for more than five, MAYBE ten minutes. I’m fairly sure they aren’t allowed to keep you pushing for longer than that, although if they reach their time limit and still want to punish you they may move onto other exercises. Drill sergeants aren’t allowed to just decide to punish you for no reason, but they aren’t above nit picking your appearance and your posture and such.

This post is almost four pages long at this point and I could probably still go on, but I’m sure you’ll learn plenty more when I eventually put up my basic training post, which I’m already working on. Please feel free to send me any other questions you have in the mean time, and I hope I at least covered some ground to get you started!

Im always down for opal au! I probably could’ve done this with garnet/rupphire, but im pearlmethyst trash so…. Pearl and Ame spend a day apart for Steven. 

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words fall through me

On being tongue-tied and slowly, finally letting go. On letting the words fall out.

She thought he was going to say it that night. His heart is in his chest, the Dark One is banished, they have perhaps a day villian-free, and they’re breathless and twisted in his bedsheets as she pushes his jacket off his shoulders, trails kisses down the column of his throat until her lips stop to linger over his heart (bless him and his v-necked shirts). He’s staring at her with this faraway look, like he’s seeing through her and into her, and he opens his mouth-

“Emma, I—”

She waits, leaves an open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, satisfied at the way his breath hitches.

“I—” He tries again, and she presses her lips to his softly in a gesture that she hopes lets the it’s okay sink into his skin.

“I… missed you.”

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smolraph  asked:

#52, danke

52 → “Things you said with my lips on your neck.”

I’m also gonna include @jlmdemon ‘s prompt: Raphael needing to feed because he’s too busy working and forgets to so Simon lets him drink his blood even tho it’s not as good as mundane blood

It was usually Simon who forgot to feed.

He didn’t do it on purpose – not always. He was just so busy with everything else, like trying to watch Jurassic Park and Star Wars at the same time or balancing playing the guitar and reading Batman comics, that he simply didn’t even think about feeding until Raphael shoved a glass of blood in his hands.

The older vampire would find it endearing if it wasn’t endangering Simon’s life.

Raphael, on the other hand, hadn’t forgotten to feed in over fifty years. Sure, he didn’t need to do it as much as the other vampires and he could get by with way less too, but every few days he always remembered to make himself a glass and sip it while he worked.

But that was before his mother passed away.

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anonymous asked:

#13 pairing of choice!

Nighttime and early mornings have always been Jack’s favorite times of the day; it’s quiet, peaceful, still. When he always feels like the world is speeding past him and leaving him in it’s wake, it always makes him feel more centered, more anchored, to see the stars shining and the world standing still. Providence’s light pollution isn’t terrible per se, but it’s been harder for Jack to enjoy time on the roof stargazing since he can’t make out all of the constellations that he’s been teaching himself of. 

Samwell is further into the woods than it it closer to the city, and the light pollution is very minimal. Jack loves Samwell for many reasons, so far the happiest he has been has been when he was a wellie. He found himself, a team, a family, and very recently, a boyfriend. He came into Samwell terrified, and graduated just as terrified to leave it. Whenever he comes back he breathes easier and walks lighter. Bitty has been having a substantially rough time for the past week working on one of his projects for his film design class, and even though when they skyped he kept telling Jack he was fine, Jack could see the worry in his eyes and how tightly he would grip Señor Bun to his chest when talking about his work so far. 

The drive up to Samwell is short, only forty-five minutes up the I-95. The stereo is softly crooning out a Jack Johnson song from his Rusted Roots Pandora Radio station that Bitty taught him to make. It’s calm, it’s exciting. Jack hasn’t told anyone he’s coming up, not even Eric. He and Bitty have a shared Netflix account and Jack has been secretly watching the movies (90% of them are rom-coms) Bitty has placed in the queue and has taken some notes on romance. Surprise visits to your significant other seems to always be a winner. So here he is, fifteen minutes out from seeing his boy, a grin stretching from ear to ear, watching the stars becoming brighter the closer he gets to his sun.

Jack can see Bitty’s room light from where he’s parked on the street, he’s probably vlogging about how he should be doing his project whilst he’s waiting for a stress-pie to bake. God, Jack loves this boy. Hands in his pockets he walks up to the Haus and goes to retrieve the spare key from under the Haus Sweet Haus doormat. Quietly turning the lock and sneaking in through the foyer to the stairwell Jack observes the Haus. There are belongings scattered around that must be left from the frogs and the taddies, he definitely know who the stuffed shark belongs to. The Haus smells like maple crusted apple pie and Jack tries to contain his smile, this ridiculous boy, this ridiculously sweet boy, bakes Jack’s favorite pie when he isn’t even around. It warms his heart to see that he still has a presence in the Haus, that Bitty still thinks of him when they aren’t talking.

He walks up the stairs and glances at his, now Chowder’s door. He’s tempted to crack a peek to see if it still looks the same, but after a moment of consideration he realizes that he will probably wake Chow up and ruin the surprise for Bitty. He pivots to Bitty’s door and turns the knob as gingerly as possible, he can see Bitty has his headphones in while he does something on his laptop. Jack drops his bag next to the bed and plops down next to an unsuspecting Bitty, who startles out an, “Oh my goodness!”

Upon realizing who the intruder is Bitty’s eyes widen along with his smile as he let’s out an even more excited, “Oh my goodness! Jack!”

Jack just chuckles and pulls his boy into his arms. The whole day he’s been waiting for this and now that he has it he feels so blindingly happy. His cheeks are starting to cramp up from how much he’s been smiling lately.

“Hi, Bits.”

“Don’t you ‘Hi,Bits’ me, Mr. Zimmermann! What in the Lord’s name are you doing here?”

Jack bashfully shrugs, “Wanted to see you..”. He can feel the blush creeping up his neck, “I know you’ve been feeling stressed and I wanted to help. Can’t hold you through a screen though.”

Bitty sucks in breath, “Oh, Jack. What did I do to deserve you, honestly.”

“Loved me before I loved me? I don’t know, Bits. I ask that question myself all the time.”

Bitty releases a sigh, and pulls Jack’s face to his. A wistful smile and heavy lids take to his face as he strokes Jack’s cheeks and gently pushes his stray hairs out of his face.

“Kiss me.”

And Jack does. 

If stargazing is relaxing, being able to hold a star is exhilarating.

Mistakes, part 7. (Neymar imagine)

His p.o.v

If i ever thought i had felt pain before, i was wrong. Nothing hurts as much as remembering how it is to kiss her, to touch her and to hold her, and not being able to do it again. Hell it even felt amazing when she called me ‘babe’, even though i know she didn’t mean to call me that. You’d think that her kissing me would make me happy, but i feel miserable. I realize it’s because i know she regrets it. No matter how much she wants me, she won’t give in to me, and that hurts. She feels like a drug. You can’t give a heroine addict who is recovering 10% of what he usually would get, because you know his desire for more will slowly kill him.
I just put Davi in bed, and hugged him a little longer knowing he’s the reason she is still in my life. I need to get her back, i think when i get into my own bed. I need to win her back, and make her mine again, and i will do anything to make it happen. I drift off into a sleep, with dreams about her.

She was the last thing i thought of when i fell asleep, and the first thing i thought about when i woke up. I’m in way too deep. I watch as Davi eats his cereal, and go in instagram. I’m pleasantly surpised when i see pictures of her and Davi ice skating yesterday. I rub my temples and try to think of an excuse to go to her. Instead i text her, but as soon as i press send i regret it.

Her p.o.v

I got sick the moment i stepped into my house. It’s been almost 3 years since i was ill, and it feels like hell. I blow my nose in a kleenex and pull my blanket back to cover me. It’s 57 degrees in my house and i’m still cold. I sneeze and feel my eyes water. This has got to be the worst day ever. I wonder what my friends would think if they saw me like this. They’re used to my perfect make up face, and my prefect outfits and hair. When i think about it like this, i  realize that i don’t really have any real friends. In the show business everyone pretends to be your friend, and you feel like you’re really popular. But at times like these you realize how lonely you are. My only real friend was Neymar, but now i don’t even have him. I could call David or Oscar but they are somewhere far away from me, and busy with their own lives. I get startled when i hear some weird sounds from the kitchen. Is there a robber in my house? I stand up cautiously, with the blanket wrapped around me and go take a look. I freeze when i feel wetness down at my feet, and i see how there’s water coming out of the dishwasher. The washing machines are in the basement of my apartment building, so the dishwasher is literally the only thing that would ruin my house if it broke down. And it did.
'OH GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK!’ I yell throwing away my blanket. Now i have to call someone to fix this mess and who knows how long it may take? When i pick up my phone to call someone i see that i have a text. Somehow i just know it’s him. I open it.

We need to talk.

I sigh and delete the message.
'No we don’t.’ I say aloud, before calling a plumber. 
About 4 hours later i’m checking in to a hotel, close to my house. The plumber said it would take at least three days to fix my dishwasher and fix the water damage. The people who lived below me came to yell at me and were suprised when they saw a famous person had been living above them. Irritared i give my credit card to the guy at the lobby, and he takes it cautiously. 
'How many nights?’ He asks, and i sigh.
'I have no idea, at least a week.’ Now that people know where i live i have to find a new house, on top of my new movie being filmed and all the problems with Neymar i feel like exploding. I feel like killing him for bringing me all this trouble. 
'Alright, if you don’t check out i’ll keep your room reserved for you.’ He smiles at me and nod.
'You’ve got room 203, which has a nice view on the skyline of London. It’s on the 6th floor, the last room on the right.’ I thank him, and walk towards the elevator with the guy who carries my bags and my two trolleys. I take one from him, and by the time i arrive in my room i’m sweating and puffing. I organize my clothes in the closet, and put my toiletries in the bathroom. After that i’m exhausted, so after i take a shower i collapse on the kingsized bed. I get a text from my agency, telling me that everything had to be stopped at the set today because i cancelled last. Which m minute. Which means i have no choice than to go tomorrow. I groan and set my alarm before drifting off into a restless sleep.

I don’t know how late it is when i hear someone banging on the door. I think it’s a dream, and turn around pulling my covers with me. But the banging continues, and i stand up, irritated and mad. I’m ready to slap the person who’s responsible for disturbing my sleep. But when i open the door, confusion takes over and i forget how to speak. Neymar is standing in front of my door, yelling at the guy who helped me with my bags earlier. 
'Sir if you harass people i’ll have to call the police.’ He says, holding his hands up, but Neymar has stopped screaming and looks at me now.
'What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’ I snap, and his face looks angry again. 
'Is everything ok miss?’ The younger boy asks. He looks a little pale and intimidated by Neymar but i nod and he leaves.
Neymar rudely walks into my room, and i wonder why he’s here.

'Are you gonna answer me or what?’ I ask, crossing my arms. He looks around, and turns around to me.
'YOU’RE STAYING AT A FUCKING HOTEL?!’ He yells, and i flinch.
'My dishwasher.. it-’ I start. 'I KNOW!’ He disrupts me and i’m honestly a little scared of him. 
'Do you know how i had to find out you were spotted in town at 2 fucking am?! I read it on twitter! I had to go to your appartment to find out what happened!’ I shake my head in confusion.
'Why were you looking for me?’ I ask, my voice sounds small and i see how he relaxes a little.
'I’ve been calling you all day, you left me no choice!’ He says, throwing his hands in the air. 
'I was too busy moving all my stuff. You can’t expect me to come running to you everytime you need me.’ I snap.
'And i’m ill, so i didn’t have the energy to talk to you.’ I add. His expression softens.
'You’re ill? How are you now?’ I sigh, and walk over to the bed to sit down. I’m wearing nothing but my underwear and  robe so i pull it down to cover my legs a little.  
'Not exactly great. Considering you just barged into my room.’ I say, looking up to him. He’s wearing jeans, and a tight white shirt and it looks amazing on him. He kneels in front of me. 
'Why didn’t you come to me meu amor? You could stay with us till your house is fixed.’  He says, and something inside of me snaps when he does. The fact that he acts like nothing happened, and we’re besties. Like i’m his puppy, who does everything he asks from me. I stand up, pushing him away and he stands up too.
'Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!’ I yell at him, placing my fingers on his chest and pushing him away. He’s startled by my sudden mood swing.
'We broke up Neymar! We aren’t together anymore, and it’s all because of you! Because you couldn’t stay faithfull to me! You ruined everything we had, all because of her and you don’t even care about her!’ I dramatically grab my head. All my anger, my confusion and sadness comes together in one big ball of frustration and i’m glad it happens now. I’m not even finished yet.
'Because of you i had to move out in the middle of shooting a movie after months of hearing no, everytime i went to a casting! Because of you, everytime i see Davi i get reminded of what could have happened! We could’ve been happy!’ My eyes start to water, and i don’t care.
'How could you do this to me?’ I ask, and my voice cracks. Great..
'I loved- love you so much. I would have done everything for you! I would have moved to Brazil just to be closer to you, but you ruined it.’ I finish, with a sob, and Neymar’s hurt look satisfies me in the weirdest way possible.
'I’m sorry i ruined everything.’ He says, and i see the tears in his eyes.
'You gave up everything for me and i threw it away. I just want to ask you for one more chance baby. I miss you so much.’ His voice cracks too, and we’re a mess. 
'I don’t know why i didn’t realize this before but you are the red string in my life that keeps everything together. You were my first girlfriends Davi liked, and i’m so stupid for not seeing it before. Please give me one more chance.’ He says, getting down on his knee for me. He takes my hand, and i get the crazy idea he’s going to propose to me but that can’t happen. He wouldn’t do that. That’s crazy even for him. He can’t do that. I thought.. Because Neymar reaches for something in his pocket, and when he opens the little velvet black box, i feel all the blood drain from my face.

Hey Little Girl, Pt. 3

Hey guys, this is the last part for now. I’ve been working on another section, but I’m having a bit of a thing about it at the moment, and I’m unsure of whether or not I’ll be able to fix it enough for it to see the light of day. Sigh.

In any case, I hope you like this one. Poor bumbly Finn.

It’s like a game he’s been playing all day as he sits at his desk and slogs through the paperwork. Where is Rae? Every half an hour he scans through the security cameras to see if he can find her black store t-shirt among the masses milling though the store. Oh, there she is, standing with her arms crossed as she studies a mannequin thoughtfully. Yep, spotted her, crouching down in the DVDs showing a customer something.

But this time, when he spies her behind the counter, his blood starts to boil and he lets out a strangled noise. Because fucking Sean has his hands all over her. She’s got her head thrown back and her eyes closed as he gropes at her shoulders and her upper back. The video is black and white and grainy, but he can practically hear the sensual moans she’s making as Sean touches her. Fuck that.

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I am so sick of people on tumblr acting like a bunch of hypocrites. I’ve had this rant inside me for a LONG time, but some of the reaction on tumblr to Age of Ultron has finally brought it out of me.

A few years back they are bowing at the feet of Joss Whedon worshipping everything he does and how great a feminist he is and now they suddenly turn on him and are calling him anti-feminist and being completely vicious and nasty.

Wow, way to go tumblr.

Leave the poor guy alone. I’d like to see YOU make an Avengers movie. You act like it is so easy, but if you knew anything at all about the film industry you’d know how difficult it is to get a movie made at all, let alone a movie where you are given an enormous cast and expected to give each character a story arc, continue the story from previous films, lead into future films, introduce three new heroes and a new villain, all in less than three hours. Not to mention this movie is for the biggest company in the world with studio executives requiring certain things from you and billions of fans to please.

What you need to realize about Joss Whedon, and really anyone in the entertainment industry, is that he is human. Personally I think that Age of Ultron was a great film, but that doesn’t mean everything about it was perfect. There were things I thought could have been better, but that is how I feel about nearly every movie I watch. These movies are made by humans and humans are not perfect. You are all so quick to vilify someone just because his movie didn’t meet your exact expectations. And why does it have to be so black and white? One second he is a god among humans and the next he is the devil? Just because someone does one thing you don’t agree with, it doesn’t automatically make him satan. Why can’t you view someone as a complex human being for once, without automatically vilifying them because of one thing they do? I’ve seen this happen on tumblr so many times where they worship someone and then suddenly turn on them. Lay off these people already. Not everyone is going to do all things you agree with, and that is ok. You can disagree with someone’s creative choices and still have respect for them as an artist.

And stop being offended over every single thing. This movie is NOT anti-feminist. Never once are Black Widow or Scarlet Witch or any of the other female characters treated like less than their male counterparts. They’re considered just as complex and expected to contribute to the team just as much as the males are. If you seriously think this movie is anti-feminist you need to go back a few years and try watching superhero movies from then. Try watching Mary Jane from Spider-Man and then come and tell me again that this movie is anti-feminist.

You can like Age of Ultron, you can dislike Age of Ultron, I don’t care. But if you are one of those hypocrites who suddenly decides to turn on Joss Whedon then shame on you. If you disagree with his creative choices that is fine, but there are more respectful ways to go about expressing that.

*catches breath* Whew. End rant.

Changing Winds [Part 1]

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