in a some sort of future gone back

he likes to read

(this wants with all its heart to be a multichapter fic but i need instant gratification sooo)

He likes to read.

He likes to read and Kent likes him, and he really doesn’t know what to do about this fact.

Kent ran into him – well, ran past him, really – on a morning jog, in a usually deserted area of the community park where trees have been planted and are carefully watered to give the appearance of a verdant, lush grove in the middle of sunny, dusty Nevada. He was standing against a tree and reading, and when Kent jogged back to ask what he was doing, the man laughed and pointed to his book. Walden.

Kent’s never read it. The man shrugs. “It’s about a man who gave up his whole life to go live in the woods,” he says. “I used to go to Walden Pond and re-read it once a summer. But now I’m here and, well… this is as close to the woods as I can get.”

His name is James. He’s a high school English teacher. He shakes Kent’s sweaty hand and asks his name, what he does for a living.

Kent blinks at him hard. “You…” he starts. He was about to say, you don’t know?

“Me? You do me?” James cracks a smile. “Is that a pick-up line?”

His smile is sunny, and Kent breaks a little bit inside. He finds himself quickly enough to say, “Would it work?”

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Three Days is not Long Enough to Deal with this Crap

Listen, don’t judge me, it was a dumb thought. It wouldn’t leave me alone. It’s 1 freaking 15 in the morning. I want sleep. This stupid thing wouldn’t leave me alone. So I’m flinging it at you all. Good night.

Otherwise known as the birth of another AU, I have no idea what to call it, but I’ll think of something probably.

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anonymous asked:

1/2 I really wonder where Dean and Cas's plot/arc is leading for the finale. I don't like to speculate but i do wonder. We usually do get *something*, some kind of progression or moment to satisfy us like last season's car scene in the finale. The season had been leading up to something like that, and now i wonder what this season will give us? I'm leaning towards them having some sort of really candid moment that clears the air for good as far as their place with each other.

2/2 Like, Cas might still have his own personal “where do i belong, heaven or earth?’ "am i a human or an angel?” stuff, and that will extend the overall destiel arc another season, but i do believe we’re headed towards something this season that clears up all the “cas why do you keep leaving?” “dean what do you really and truly think of me?” etc. Even if it’s not huge, just something that settles some things between them.

Hi there! And yeah, speculating about a finale in detail is difficult… especially when we are at the beginning of some major arcs, and Dabb’s storytelling style is more about looking back to the past than foreshadowing the future, so there’s not even the sort of demand for resolution we had in s11.

The MAIN arcs of the season have been everyone’s individual emotional growth, rather than the evolution of a Big Bad. Yes, we have “big bad” things overlaying the entire season with the BMoL and Lucifer and now the nephilim, but the only consistently written arcs have been the emotional and subtextual growth each character has gone through. Everything else is essentially window dressing for that growth.

And yeah, I think we’re going to see Dean trying to get through to Cas again, and he’s going to have to use bigger words than he has before. I don’t know if anything can truly clear the air “for good” yet, but Dean’s gonna need something bigger than “I need you,” because right now, Cas (whether under his own free will or not) believes he’s acting in Dean’s best interest. He’s doing what “needs to be done.”

“I need you” ain’t gonna cut it this time.

Dean needs to get across the point that he doesn’t need Cas to fix everything, that Cas isn’t just a useful tool to bring out when the world breaks. He needs to make it clear that what Ambriel told him in 11.10 (written by Dabb):

Ambriel: I mean, we have a lot in common. Our names rhyme, that’s a big one. I look good in a trench coat too, and we’re both expendable.
Castiel: Excuse me?
Ambriel: Well, that’s why we’re here, right? I’m a number cruncher and you-you like I said, I’ve heard the stories. You help. But Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes. So if the Darkness is still alive and she’s pissed and she kills us, no big loss. So sure, maybe we’re not super important, but we do the job. I think there’s nobility in that.

and what Amara enforced:

Castiel: You think I’m afraid to die?
Amara: I know you are, you reek of fear and self loathing. Oh, scary. She’s right you know, you are expendable and weak. And why God took a special interest in you, I’ll never understand. My brother always did have horrible taste in men.


HE IS NOT EXPENDABLE AND WEAK, and yet that was what drove him to offer himself up as a vessel to Lucifer.

That’s the mistake he’s been atoning for ever since. And THAT’S the underlying issue that Dean needs to address in order to get through to him now.

He’s not a Winchester because of what he can do for them, but because of who he is. That they don’t keep him around because he’s useful, but because HE IS CAS and he’s family and they love him too.

(but gosh it would be nice if he stopped trying to throw himself on grenades for them left and right… )

you miss him || luke hemmings

When the doorbell rang, you knew who it was.

Luke had texted you and let you know he was sending Ashton over to collect some of his belongings.

So you were expecting the blonde with hazel eyes at the door.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Hi Ash, come on in. Most of his stuff is in the second bedroom.” You explain.

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hammyhammy24  asked:

Hi!! Can I have one where the 11th doctor has been bash fully in love with the reader (his companion) and one day she is on the verge of death. She falls unconscious and he confesses his love. Then she wakes up and knows that she loves him just as much :D BTW YOURE BRILLIANT xx

Awwwww, thanks. >///< I’m glad you think so. :3 Dang, I made this one really long. I hope you enjoy! :D


“We’re almost there, Y/N!” The Doctor looked back to see if you were okay. You keep holding his hand no matter what and continue running though your legs felt they were on fire. The Doctor and you were running—as usual—from a crowd of soldiers that were out for your heads. The two of you had exploited some gruesome secrets that were detrimental to their reputation and were just trying to get back safely to the TARDIS.

You had thoroughly enjoyed your adventures with the Doctor. Ever since he swept you away from your normal life on Earth you’d yearn the adventures the Doctor took you on. You’d had your fair share of close calls, but nevertheless they were all memories you’d always keep. You’d also grown quite fond of the Doctor. Seeing that the two of you had been traveling together for awhile now, it was no surprise the two of you had shared a close bond.

Often times the Doctor would comfort you whenever you had close calls or something scared you senseless. He’d also hold your hand when guiding you around strange new cities and planets, acting as tour guide and tell you everything about anything. You’d hoped it would never end.

Then everything went wrong.

Right as you got sights of the exit, everything seemed to slow down. A loud explosion came from your right and you turned you head to see the wall that was once there crumbling apart. Debris was flying your way and you cried out “Doctor!” as your hand slipped from his, getting farther and farther away from him.

By the time he turned, it was too late. The explosion launched you towards the opposite wall and hurled the Doctor a few feet in the direction he was running. He struggled to get to his feet and half-walked half-crawled to the debris you were buried under.

Your head was pounding and was hurting beyond belief. You felt a thick liquid trickle down past your ear and knew that you were bleeding. When you shifted not even an inch, a sharp pain shot in your sides and on your whole right side from the neck to your fingertips. Whenever you tried to breathe, only dust was inhaled and you could feel it practically coat your lungs. Every time you inhaled, you coughed erratically and then felt the pain rush back to you.

You heard something disturbing the debris, but only barely. You finally opened your eyes and a light was starting to sneak its way into your trash-coffin.

“Y/N!" A voice called out, but it was very muffled, almost completely mute.

"Can you hear me?" You blinked and noticed all the debris was cleared from your face. The Doctor was hurtling pieces of wood and other materials everywhere away from you, trying to dig you out. "Y/N!” You looked over to your right, and was practically heartbroken by the Doctor’s face. “I’m going to get you out of here." He slipped his arm in the crooks of your knees and then around your back, getting ready to pick you up. When he barely moved you, you screamed. Your whole body felt it was on fire and shattered into a million pieces. "I’m sorry, Y/N! But I have to get you out of here!" He lifted you from the ground and you tried your hardest not to scream.

"We’re almost there!" Was the last three words you heard before your head laid limply over the Doctor’s arm and your vision blacked out…


In your dreams—well, you hoped they were dreams—you kept hearing the Doctor’s voice. Over and over, all he said was:

          “I’ll save you, Y/N! You can’t die! I won’t allow it!”

Once you woke up, you looked down and realized you were in a hospital bed with white sheets, a white blanket, and a white gown. You lifted up your hand and was horrified at what came with it. Your whole right arm was wrinkled and charred. You knew it was severely burned. It didn’t hurt, though. Was it supposed to?

That’s when you noticed the Doctor sitting in a chair that was pulled up beside your bed with his head in his hands. By the wet spots on his pants, it looked like he’d been crying. “Doctor!” You greeted cheerfully, but he didn’t look up. “Doctor?” You tried again, and received the same result. "DOCTOR!" You screamed as loud as you could, but couldn’t muster a single acknowledgment out of him. “Doctor, why aren’t you listening?” You felt that you yourself were going to cry.

When you looked back forward, you noticed something… different. It wasn’t anything you could see, it was just something in your gut that was tugging at you. Your feet wanted to touch the floors, but you knew that wasn’t going to happen; you were in a hospital bed for a reason.

Then you reached for the remote that would move the bed. Your hand moved right through it. A sound of utter surprise escaped your lips. You hand just went through the remote. You tried again, hoping it was your stress playing mind games, but to no avail. Frustrated, you tried millions of times, only to have your hand slip through every time.

Am I… dead? You think this was the only explanation. The Doctor was crying, not looking at you, and your hand passed through that stupid remote like a ghost. I’m dead! You throw your hands in the air and sigh. As you did so, you noticed that your arms still lay on the bed. Maybe I can— You could. You stood up, and then saw your own body laying still on the sheets of white, with tubes coming from your mouth and arms.

You were breathing—So I’m not dead?—and your vitals were stable. Something about this whole scene horrified you, nevertheless; and it had something to do with the charred skin on your arm. Some of the (h/c) hair on your right side was singed off, and even some of the side of your face was slightly burnt, not as much as your arm, though. You looked horrible.

There was movement in the corner of your eye, and you turned. The Doctor’s hands rested on his knees, and he sat forward. The tears had dried from his face, but his eyes were still slightly red. “Oh, Doctor…” You shook your head, and stood by him. Though you were convinced that he couldn’t feel your presence, but you placed your hand on his shoulder anyways.

"Y/N…” He muttered weakly. “I-I don’t know what to say. ‘Sorry’ can’t make up for what I’ve done right now, but it’s the only thing I can do right now.” He paused as if he were letting it sink in. “You’re probably thinking: ‘Can’t you just travel to when I recover?’ You’re right; I could—but I’d be abandoning you, not doing my job of protecting you.” His fists clenched on the fabric of his pants. “I’d never do that because— Because—” His knuckles were white-tight, and you squeezed his shoulder.

“Go on…" His grip loosened and you wondered if he heard you.

"Because I love you, Y/N.” He reached for your blackened right hand. If you had a heart in this “spirit form,” you were sure that it’d be jumping right now. “I-I really do. I know deep inside I’m not supposed to—you’ll grow old, and I’ll just have to live past you, it’s the old Time Lord Curse. Despite that, I still love you, I won’t deny that. I wish I could tell this to your face." 

Well… You think with a grin.

"Ever since you joined me in the TARDIS, I’ve always admired your thirst for adventure, your curiosity, and your companionship. It’s helped me realize what a wonderful woman you are, and you deserve someone you can live and die with. If I can’t have your love, then your friendship is the closest I can have. I won’t treat you differently once you come back, Y/N, don’t worry. I just want to make sure you’re always safe and happy, like I always have…”

With that the Doctor let go of your hand and sat back, staring at your peaceful looking face, then rested his head in his hand that was propped up on the arm of the chair. You stayed standing next to him, processing all he had just confessed, and smiled. You knew what you were going to do when you woke up.

Over the next couple days, you wandered out of your room and around the hospital. You noticed that it was different from hospitals you’d been to before. In fact, you could say it was more advanced than the one’s you’d been before. The hospital beds weren’t attached to the ground, they were floating, something you failed to notice back in your own room. Also, you revisited rooms after one day or so and there were new patients that replaced some of the old ones.

Once you returned to your own body, a wonderful sight met you; your arm was healed. Well, you could still tell it was burned, but the charring was gone, the skin was smoother, and it looked like you got a minor burn. There must have been some sort of procedure or something that caused your arm to heal like this. This hospital must’ve been in the future. The Doctor took you here instead of any old hospital so you could heal almost fully.

Suddenly, you felt a tug at your gut, and looked over at your body. Your arm was ever so slightly moving. Catching the hint, you hop up on the bed and lay in the same position as your real body and close your eyes with a smile.


When your eyes shot open, you felt that you were in your real body and gasped at the tube in your mouth. “Y/N!” The Doctor exclaimed and called for a real doctor to come and help.

Soon the tubes were all out and you were finally able to move. The Doctor stood by your bed and smiled. Before he could get a word out, you pull him by the collar of his jacket and plant a kiss on his lips. After you two separate you smile widely and the first words to come out of your mouth are: “I love you too, Doctor.”

It should go without saying, but don’t repost. Just reblog it. I’d be very disappointed and mad that my work was uncredited.

Future: Bucky Barnes imagine

Bucky Barnes was slowly growing accustomed to life in this generation. He was trying to model into the normal man. He was not an avenger, not yet. But his best friend still dragged him along to missions, in hopes of making Bucky see the good in him.

To him, you were his lifeline, the sense of normality. Even back in the 40’s Bucky never believed he would be one to fall in love. But with you it was different. He needed you. You made him feel normal. It was like he was never a brainwashed assassin. He wasn’t a super soilder with you. He was just Bucky.

The relationship between the both of you was something so strong but yet undefined. There was no label to put, it was just Bucky and you, inlove. It took so much to break down all his walls, but surely you did, everyday being with him.

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Heartbreak is a funny thing.

I don’t mean literally laugh out loud funny. I mean funny like, this is so fucked up, why do I feel this way, funny.

Initially, when it happens, you feel panicked. Like, what am I going to do now? Your entire way of life just changed in that one second. Two words. We’re done. Changed the entire course of your life. Does that sort of blow anybody else’s mind? Two words and all the plans you made over however long you were together are gone in an instant. That safety blanket you once had of a person always being there when you needed them and your plans that reassured you that you had some sort of future going for you, all of it’s gone. 

You spend the next day or two or three or weeks or months crying. Maybe having some happy moments with friends or family in between, but never truly smiling. Never truly laughing. You move back in with your mother because you could never afford a place of your own with the minimum wage that you make while going to school. While you’re going to school full time you don’t have enough hours in the day to work full time to make the ends meet. So you wake up every morning wondering if your body hurts because the couch, that you’re forced to share with your dog in your mother’s living room, is uncomfortable, or because you’re so depressed that your muscles ache and scream at you to get up and do something to get out of cycle of waking up, drinking coffee, never eating, feeling sorry for yourself, and watching Harry Potter movies all day. 

One day you wake up and you feel good. Not one hundred percent, but you’re better than yesterday. You drink your coffee, eat some bacon, and skip the wallowing in self pity and watching Harry Potter. You put tennis shoes on and go for a run with your dog. Fresh air caresses your face for the first time in days.  It’s going great until three song’s into the album, a sad song that reminds you of him comes on. It breaks your stride, breaks your concentration, and stops your run completely. You quickly walk the rest of the way home while hyperventilating, yet trying not to look like the crazy person walking down the street crying. You pull your hat further down and are thankful you have mirrored sunglasses that don’t allow people to see you breaking down. But that hat you’re wearing isn’t yours. It’s his. You feel disgusted by the fact that you feel comforted by the piece of your old routine that has slipped in to your morning. 

Today is not the day. Today is not the day you will be yourself again. But today you got better. Even if it was only for a few hours. The glimpse of normality should give you hope. But for now, you will go back to your couch and movies. For now you will feel sorry for yourself and cry. 

And for now, just for now, thats ok.  

Flash: Cisco/Reader

Cisco Ramon one shot where Barry and Caitlin not so subtext keeps putting them in awkward situations to get the reader and Cisco together but because they’re cute dorks they think they have no chance with one another

Could I request an imagine Cisco x reader where they meet for the first time? And Cisco is really nervous :) Thank you :)

(Hope you like it!)

Author: Queen of Geeks

Munching on freshly popped popcorn, I watched as the opening credits of a film came up on my laptop. Work was slow at STAR labs giving me time to watch a film. Every bit of paperwork I completed was under different paperweights to prevent them from flying away whenever Barry ran in. After throwing a bag of popcorn into the microwave for a few minutes, I leaned back in my chair.

“What’re you watching?” Barry asked making my jump. I paused my film and turned around to see Barry watching the film over my shoulder.

“Back to the Future. Have you seen Cisco?” I asked him. “I wanted to watch this with him.”

“Oh really?” Barry asked raising his eyebrows. I playfully punched his arm. “I’ll go find him. He’s probably around here somewhere.”

“Thanks.” I smiled as he ran off. Thankfully, my paperweights prevented the papers from flying around.

I pressed play and leaned back in my chair with my bowl of popcorn. There were taps of heels on the floor as Caitlin came in. She walked over and looked over my shoulder.

“Cisco really likes this movie.”

“Barry’s gone to find him. Popcorn?” I offered her the bowl and she took a few pieces. She took some of the papers from under the paperweights before walking away. As she did, I heard her say hi to Cisco. Pausing the film, I turned my chair and smiled.

“Hey, I was wondering where you were.” I smiled at him.

“I was just sorting some stuff out. Barry told me you were watching ‘Back to the Future’!”

“Yeah, I was going to ask if you wanted to watch it with me.” I told him. Cisco grabbed a chair and wheeled it closer to my desk. The two of us sat next to each other as we began watching the film. Silently, I passed the bowl of popcorn over.

“Thanks,” Cisco said taking a few pieces.

As the film played, I realised that nobody else came into the room. There were footsteps, but then they receded as they came closer. Once the first film was over, Cisco stretched his arms up. Our popcorn bowl was empty except for a few kernels that didn’t pop.

“I’m going to pop some more.” I stood up with bowl in my hands.

“I’ll do it,” Cisco told me.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, sure.” Cisco smiled and took the bowl from me. He walked out and went to pop a new bag. As I dug around in my bag for a new DVD, I heard Caitlin come in.

“Hey,” I said looking up at her. “Where’ve you been?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I just wondering where you were. Do you have the paperwork for me?”

“I was thinking you can work on it tomorrow. You can watch movies with Cisco.”

“I can do those today.” I told her. Caitlin smiled at me.

“Have fun.” She told me before walking out. I put a new DVD in and waited for Cisco. He came in with the bowl a few minutes after Caitlin left. He took his seat next to me and passed me the bowl.

“Is it bad that I have both the second and third ‘Back of the Future’ in my bag?” I asked with a laugh.

“Really? That’s awesome!” Cisco said. “Wait, don’t we have paperwork?”

“Caitlin said we can hold it off.” I explained.

“Sweet,” Cisco leaned back in his chair and I pressed play. The two us relaxed in our chairs as we munched on the popcorn.

Leaning back, I watched Cisco’s face. There was a smile on his face like usual and I couldn’t help but smile back. He was leaning back and looked relaxed which was nice. Usually, Cisco was leaning forwards reading things off his computer screen. Now was the time he seemed relaxed.

“Cisco, I have a question.” I said. Cisco leaned forwards and pressed pause.

“What’s up?”

“Uh, I was thinking that you and I could go out and get something to eat. Like an actual date. Rather than just watching movies.”

“I actually really like watching movies with you.”

“Oh.” I was at a loss for words but grinned. “Then, then maybe we can go out and watch movies together.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

you miss him\\a.i.

When the doorbell rang, you knew who it was.

Ashton had texted you and let you know he was sending Michael over to collect some of his belongings.

So you were expecting the blonde with hazel eyes at the door.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Hi Mikey, come on in. Most of his stuff is in the second bedroom.” You explain.

“He’s got a pretty specific list of what he’s looking for…” Mikey starts.

You shrug, “He should have come himself then.”

Mikey sighed, but he headed to the second bedroom, “Can I ask what happened?” He said, noting you were walking behind him. He disappeared into the room, and you followed and sat in a chair you’d had in there before you’d moved all of Ashton’s stuff in there.

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A Year Gone By; Tymas, 1968

Considering the school year that he’d had before, things were going pretty well in the first half of Tyler’s seventh year. By all means his mental health was still not anywhere near where it should be, but he was trying his best to see some sort of future in his life to make it worth living. His N.E.W.T-level Herbology class had certainly helped with that, giving him an idea that maybe that’s what he would be doing once he left school. Thomas had also been a huge help. A few months back they had begun dating, and it opened up a whole different side of Tyler he barely knew was there - a side that could maybe be happy. 

As it started to get colder, his mental health had begun to dip a little bit again as he knew what was coming. In the beginning of December would be the anniversary of his mother’s death, and he was scared about what he might do because of it. The week leading up to it, he had barely gotten any sleep and had started missing a few classes here and there as he took time to himself to attempt to cope. He felt like he’d bothered Thomas too much with it, and without Andromeda at school is was hard to handle himself. Most of his time for the week had been spent alone. 

Once the day actually came, Tyler had been up the whole night. He hadn’t cried, just sat in his bed with the curtains draped around him and all of the worst thoughts swimming through his head. It was his fault that she wasn’t there, so why did he deserve to be alive and here and even the slightest bit happy? When the morning came, he was still seated in his bed with the curtains around him and his knees up to his chest, staring at the yellow fabric surrounding the bed. 


It’s already been 28 minutes. If she doesn’t come back in the next 2 minutes he’s going home. By himself. Fuck her. How dare she disrespect his car on top of everything else? That’s unforgiveable. He’s not going to text her. Fuck it. What the hell was she even thinking, doing that skanky shit with Damo. She wasn’t thinking, obviously. You know what? It’s probably better that she doesn’t come back. Seriously. He’s kidding himself thinking he’s got any sort of a future with her. Even if Anita doesn’t put the fear of God into her, a girl who does shit like that’s not a keeper. She’s probably somewhere behind those bushes over there sucking off some random dude right this second, while he sits here waiting for her like the stupid dumb fuck he is. There’s probably a queue. ‘FREE BLOWJOBS! ROLL UP, ROLL UP! GET 'EM WHILE THEY’RE HOT!’  32 and a half minutes. She’s probably dumped Brutus somewhere and jumped in a taxi and gone straight to the airport. She’s the type to do something impulsive like that. The type his mother always warned him about. Impetuous. A loose cannon. The type to give blowjobs to dudes she’s only met 5 minutes earlier. Or pick up strange men in wine bars.  

She’s back. She’s back. She’s back. She’s back. She’s back.


I am trying to do some of my own comic work when I got an epiphany of sorts: there is not enough love for Scout in Tumblr.

What is Scout you say?

The great comic by Timothy Truman

This is dystopic future where about everything has gone to Hell in a handbasket but former army ranger, an apache Emmanuel Santanna, whose callsign/codename is SCOUT is not having any non-sense.

Besides the Scout there was the later book called Scout War Shaman

It was exactly what the doctor ordered:Smart full throttle bad-assery. With added bonus of second series back-up piece, Monday the Eliminator

Yeah the mullet is/was part of the eighties experience. 


Apparently this isn’t the first time this particular thief has been tracked, and apparently Kafei’s just-follow-him-or-whatever approach was easier to thwart than he could have hoped.  First Kafei loses sight of him.  Then he’s following the direction the thief should have gone in, probably.  Then the landscape is getting weirder and weirder and there’s no thief at all and it’s gone from a chase to just being lost, and all Kafei wants to do is find his way back to Clock Town.

He ends up finding his way to a castle, instead.

Most of his…interactions with other people are interactions with…people in Clock Town and…they all know his father is the mayor and they sort of…treat him with some degree of respect (even though he’s going to be living on his own in the near future as his own, significantly poorer and less esteemed person)….and…how do you…other people…when that isn’t there as a sort of…… safety net……

…!!! and that’s just the twenty-four-year-old’s worries, fuck, people are going to see a little ten/eleven/twelve/??? year old kid.  You don’t give little kids directions and send them on their way, you sort of.  Pen them up with other little kids and look around for their parents.  Right?  This isn’t an overreaction, he’s really justified in worrying about being penned up with a pack of children????

It takes a while to convince himself to walk over the drawbridge, and when he does he flinches at the sight of every guard, certain someone’s going to swoop down on him and carry him to a schoolyard like a vengeful eagle.  My mom…….. comes the start of an emergency excuse, in his tangled thoughts.  His mom what?  Better work on that.  He’s wearing his Keaton mask, at least; it’s a childish sort of mask, to be sure, but the enigmatic, foxy face probably commands more respect than… he looked at his new reflection once, he doesn’t want to think about it.  

Is this what happens when you get really really hungry??  If it’s this bad now, how much worse is it gonna get????  When do you start, you know, dying because you didn’t eat enough?  Cursed lap of luxury!

Directions.  Ask someone for directions.  Get back to Clock Town, find the mask, get back to Anju.  He is drawn to Azra because she’s eating an apple and he wants it.  “Hi, do you know the way to Clock Town,” he tries, walking over and planting himself in front of her, nervous but stubbornly assertive.

A Touch of Si

I was asked to further elaborate on Si and inner awareness, but frankly… I haven’t the faintest idea how to articulate that and if that is all you use to determine whether or not you are Si, you are getting caught up in minuscule details. I know how my body responds to foods it dislikes and I avoid them. I know how it feels when it is sick and if it feels differently than the last time I was sick with this, I notice that.

Today, I am caught up in a wave of Si, because I randomly plucked Wives & Daughters off my DVD shelf and stuck it in the machine. Si started unconsciously churning the moment the opening credits unfolded… reminding me of the very first time I saw this film. It was mid-afternoon, in the autumn, and it played on BBC America. I ran across it by accident one afternoon while eating lunch. A flash of a costume drama caught my attention, and for the next four days I sat enraptured, watching the story unfold. I remember everything about that room, where the television was, the furniture, even though that room is completely different and no longer even a living room now (my parents move things around… a lot). I remember after the last episode, I had a strong feeling it was over, but a faint hope it wasn’t, so I checked the next afternoon at the same time just in case… and something else was on. I ran to Amazon and bought the set, and waited in great anticipation, excited to watch it a second time. I remember unwrapping the package, and thinking how beautiful the cover was.

The same happens whenever I watch Lorna Doone… suddenly, I flash back into the past to that period in my life where everything revolved around that film for months, and snippets of online conversations shift through my mind, down to discussions over the Celtic pattern on the rug. It seems impossible that I could remember these things, but I do. The object itself triggers them! It reminds me of the people connected to it, that I talked about it with, the details of it.

So, when Si is ascribed to “living in the past,” in a sense it is that way for me – but not in a way you might think. Rather, entertainment flashes me back, and for a moment I smile as I sort through my memories and experiences in my head, and then I am back in the present, and hoping to find another something to love as much as I love that first object. In a sense, I think Si and Ne are greedy things… storing away happy sensations and experiences and in constant search for more. Briefly comparing new things to the older ones, and if they measure up nicely, well, then! I am very happy indeed!

Recently, someone remarked to me that if Si ever has a bad experience, it is determined not to relive it, or give it a second chance… and I think that is quite true. To draw it back to entertainment, I remember being traumatized by several films in my childhood. My impression of them was an intense reaction of some kind, of horror or dread or sadness, and I have never gone back to re-watch them. It is entirely possible that as an adult, I would not have such a violent reaction to them, but the fact is, my Si remembers the earlier experiences, and fears it will be the same – so it protects me by saying, “Nope.”

But a pleasant experience, once had, causes Si to be open to any similar experiences in the future. It’s the idea of, “Oh, now I have a sensory framework for this, and some experience in it, and I found out that I’m really not uncomfortable when trying this sort of thing out!” so yeah, I’ll try that.

Here you are, darling! I chose Harry, because let’s be honest, who doesn’t love Daddy Harry?! ;) Enjoy! xx

“How about something like, Penelope? We could call her our little lucky Penny,” Harry chuckled, dipping his roller brush back into the pan of pale pink paint sitting in the middle of the floor. He glanced over his shoulder at you, a smirk in place on his smooth pink lips. His dimples prominent on his cheeks as he laughed to himself. “Or, how about Rose, or Daisy? Something that says how sweet she’ll be.” You smiled, watching as he pushed the paint coated brush up and down, and back and forth across the final wall of the nursery. He’d insisted on doing all the painting himself, refusing to let you lift even a finger around the house these days. For fear of “injuring baby” as Harry liked to put it. He’d also become adamant these days on at least having a few potential names picked out. It seemed all conversation revolved around the tiny bundle of joy kept safe inside your growing belly. At night, Harry talked about schooling, and going the all natural route when it came to any and all baby supplies. He mentioned birthday parties, and arrangements for taking both you and your future baby girl on tour with him. During the day he discussed baby names, and hard wiring some sort of baby monitor into the house. He’d gone into full blown Dad mode the second the test came out positive. Not that you could complain about any of it. Harry was an incredible husband, and you had no doubts he’d be an even more amazing Father. He turned back to you, crossing the room to where you sat in the wooden rocking chair. “You’re being awfully quiet, love. Everything alright?” Harry asked, concern steadily bubbling in his voice. “Oh, yeah yeah. I’m fine, babe,” you assured, reaching a hand out to push back the mess of curls falling into his face as he knelt in front of you, “just thinking is all.” He glanced down at your belly, placing his large hands protectively over the top of your own as you cradled your bump. A gesture he’d done since day one. An act so simple, yet so full of love and pride. He’d told you once, during one of your late night discussions when neither of you could sleep, that being a Dad was all he’d ever wanted to be. And that not even touring the world, and living his rockstar dream would compare to this feeling. You’d never seen a more sincere smile on his face than the one he’d worn when speaking those words, nor could the look in his emerald eyes be labeled as anything other than pure joy. Rubbing his thumbs soothingly along the back of your knuckles, he spoke softly, “you’ll be an amazing Mum y'know.” You peered back at him, seeing the same look of love in his eyes that he’d had on the day you both said “I do” as tears began to pool in your own eyes. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed, leaning up to place a kiss sweetly to your forehead before lowering his head to do the same to your stomach, “and I love you, my angel.”


Here is Kate Utpon because… y'know… America guys!  Fuck King George am I right?  I just threw every bit of tea I have into the bathtub.  That shit is ruined now!  What I am saying is that unless you’re some sort of Nazi or like a Barbary Pirate you should like and reblog this post.  For America.  Cause I mean, look, Kate has a flag.  An American Flag.  Now, I know a lot of you aren’t Americans but… the Nazi thing.  I mean, if we hadn’t been there that would have gone very differently.  Now I’m not saying if you don’t reblog this that someone will go back in time and Hitler wins, what I am saying is why on Earth would you even take that risk?  Why would you toy with the future of the planet like that?  Also, look at her, right?  Because I love America today I want to fuck Kate Upton.