meeting aa

One of the things I love most about Dhurke is how we are introduced to him.

Our first impression of him is this:

A big hulk of a man who is super intimidating and dangerous and will probably cut down anyone in his path. 

…And then we meet him.

And he is just the biggest dork ever and not intimidating at all I love it so much. 

my ideal season 8 is like frank fucks off for good, debs and neil are doing good, lips going to his aa meetings and he’s decided he’s gonna try and go back to school, fiona’s renting that place she bought and is well off, and carl’s in military school. the show loses focus on the rest of the gallaghers and centers completely around ian getting his own place and working as an emt. he’s got his shit together but he’s seriously stressed out worrying about how mickey’s doing. he starts going through the motions of mick at the start of season 4, he’s sulking and thinking about him constantly and even though he knows he shouldn’t necessarily want to be in mexico with mickey, he definitely regrets leaving him at the border. the shameless writers find some convoluted way to put them back into contact with each other. mickey tells ian off for all the times he broke his heart. ian helps mickey get his shit together, too. they somehow find the perfect domestic bliss they’ve always wanted and then shameless ends and we don’t have to watch them suffer anymore.

AA meets AvAc!

I really like the idea of AA!Steve being rlly indulgent towards AvAc!Tony, letting him ramble on about his ideas and just listening to+showing genuine interest in him… and AvAc!Tony is so thrilled at the idea of a Steve who’s like, openly sweet and nice to him that he kind of latches onto him

meanwhile AvAc!Steve is both jealous and realizing that he should maybe be nicer to his crush lol

(AA!Tony is just kinda chill about the situation. He trusts his Steve. :> )



NOT. ALL. HOLTZBERT. SHIPPERS. SHIP. THEM. BECAUSE. THEY’RE. BOTH. SKINNY. AND. WHITE. ALL OF THE GHOSTBUSTERS SHIPS ARE BEAUTIFUL AND VALID. I SIMPLY FAVOR HOLTZBERT BECAUSE a) I’M TRASH FOR KRISTEN WIIG & b) THERE’S SO MUCH EVIDENCE IN THE MOVIE THAT CAN BACK THIS SPECIFIC SHIP: •'come here often?’ •bow tie •'Rhythm of the Night’ dance •Holtz almost killing Erin but also saved her life •First pick/Swiss Army knife/‘no woman should walk around unarmed’ •Erin’s face when Holtzmann is explaining her creations. •'I have some questions’/WINK •Holtzmann’s face whenever Erin speaks •Arm squeeze •'sometimes you need the swiss army’ •post-apocalypse hug •'I’d talk to you at an AA meeting’ BONUS: •'you carry a lot of tension in your shoulders’ •'100% jazzed to meet you’ •Jealous Holtzmann •'your big ideas’/TICKLES •Abby and Erin breaking it down- Holtz going from 'Go Abby’ to 'Go Erin’ whilst Erin is shaking her butt •Patty: 'Holtzy tell her not to do this’ during the portal scene. WHY COULDN’T PATTY TELL HER NOT TO JUMP IN THE PORTAL? WHY’D SHE TELL HOLTZ TO CONVINCE ERIN OTHERWISE. •Holtz: 'yes and we’re dating’ (Erin’s denial, Abby’s confirmation) MAYBE THOSE OF YOU THAT DON’T SHIP HOLTZBERT JUST DON’T SEE IT BUT I THINK EVERYTHING I LISTED ABOVE IS PRETTY CLEAR AND VERY IMPORTANT IN WHY HOLTZBERT IS MY SHIP OF CHOICE. IT IS PRETTY OBVIOUS! SO PLEASE STOP MAKING IT ABOUT RACE AND SIZE. DON’T MAKE ME FEEL BAD WHEN I HAVE NO REASON TO. AGAIN, ALL GB SHIPS ARE BEAUTIFUL AND VALID. STOP MAKING IT DIFFICULT FOR SOME OF US TO ENJOY WHAT WE CHOOSE. I GET IT! YOU FIND SOME HOLTZBERT SHIPPERS ANNOYING. I FIND TRUMP SUPPORTERS ANNOYING. ONE OF THOSE THINGS IS MORE OF A PROBLEM THAN THE OTHER. LET US ALL JUST LOVE THIS MOVIE AND IT’S CHARACTERS AND BE COOL WITH ONE ANOTHER. IT AIN’T ABOUT RACE. IT AIN’T ABOUT SIZE. ITS ABOUT LOVE! SINCERELY, A FRUSTRATED, THICK PUERTO RICAN THAT LOOOOVES GHOSTBUSTERS AND LOOOOVES HOLTZBERT.

Originally posted by ihaveafeelingitsmichigan

Sibling rivalry

[[ @ectoholtzmann is a friggin genius. That is all.]]

It was no secret that Erin Gilbert didn’t get along well with her parents. A lesser known fact, however, was that she had a pretty okay bond with her younger sister Emily. For a long time, the smaller redhead had been the only one to believe Erin, even if Erin forbade her sister from telling her parents as much. Erin may have had her own parents hate her, but she tended to look out for her little sister, making Emily Gilbert the family favourite in every way.

After her parents learned of what happened in New York, and how their eldest daughter was now hunting ghosts for a living, they had none-too-kindly uninvited her from Thanksgiving dinner. Not wanting to pass up on a chance to see her sister before the holidays, however, Emily had taken it upon herself to visit Erin in New York, a week before she was set to go back to Michigan, promising Erin to make a case to have her visit for Christmas.

“Be glad you’re excused from this shindig, Ez.” Her sister had argued, the dread visible in her eyes. “You know how uncle Ted can get.”

The two had been catching up at Erin’s desk on the second floor, laughing and chatting only to be interrupted by a blonde engineer walking in on them. “Oh, Holtzmann.” Erin beamed at her, waving her over. “Have you met Emily yet?”

A moment of appreciation for how Trixie openly spoke about her AA meetings to Tom, who was the first person she hid her alcoholism from.

 A moment of appreciation for how she acknowledged that her AA meetings have made her a better person and how she’s no longer ashamed to talk about her alcoholism.

A moment of appreciation for how much Trixie has grown from a scared young girl into a strong and confident woman. 

I've Been To A Mental Hospital and They Really Aren't Depicted Well in Horror

By Byron Kastilahn

Hi, I didn’t know how to start this. So I thought it would be appropriate to start out the way you do at a Cancer or AA meeting. It’s just in my case this will be about depression. More like suicide.

Okay, here goes.

Hello, my name is Brendon and I used to suffer from depression. My doctor said it was a moderate depression, but I found that very unlikely when I wanted to kill myself almost every day. The only reason it passed as that was because I said I knew people would miss me if I died. Well duh, I knew they would. It’s just that wasn’t a good enough motivation for me going on in this world.

Reasons for being depressed? Well, our world is kind of a garbage can. It kind of stinks. Being that we’re trying to get rid of the negative feelings I’m not gonna sulk. I’m not all about that anymore. Some might say my depression was brought upon by my early exposure to horror movies and games.

I disagree.

Those things brighten my day. What doesn’t brighten my day is the hick in my sophomore year class telling his friends that he really wants to shoot the gay kid in school. Sorry, no bad language.

So, hopefully I got the whole depression thing across because I’m going to tell you about the time I was in the looney bin… in sophomore year.

It was February, I think. It’s been a few years. 2012. I was issued to a hospital after I told my parents that I didn’t feel safe about myself. I immediately wanted to leave right when I got there though. People were friendly, nothing bad there. It’s just that I had to stay for a week. I missed a choir concert being there. I missed homework and projects being there. The thing that made me hate that place was because it was making my most hated place worse to go back to.

Now, this won’t be all sobs and moans. There is something else. The thing that was there. The thing that made that place worse than school. The thing is that place wasn’t normal.

I should probably explain a few more things before I get into that though.

I met some people there. Interesting people. Sad ones too. But not insane.

Like the ten year old. A ten year old who actually threatened to kill himself. We’ll get to him soon.

A girl who was pretty hyperactive. Obviously had ADHD.

A girl who didn’t talk much. Pretty typical.

The heavy girl. Always sad about her looks and weight.

And the Christian girl. That was all I knew about her other than she had previous experiences with seizures, but calling her seizure girl seems like something an asshole would write.

Speaking of which, I will be naming them by their traits. I’d rather not give away anyone’s name in these texts even if I somehow remembered them after three years.

The names don’t stick but the place sure did. The girls don’t even matter too much in this story I’m telling you. It’s that boy.

The reason I took so long to write something like this is because I never knew what I wanted to write about. At the time I was writing shitty My Little Pony fanfiction. I wanted to be a writer for so long and only recently did I learn…

… I’m sighing right now mind you…

… you’ve gotta put in that personal flair.

So here goes. Here’s the point of this whole thing. I’m gonna tell you my story.

Like I said, it was the ten year old. He started all of this. I was in bed on my second night there. Really my first day as I got there when it was night.

I was trying to sleep, desperately trying, but failing as I could hear the kid whispering. Talking to someone.

I try not to talk to people much. I think that asking someone about the weird thing they do is rude even if they might not find it that way. Hell, they might want to share the experience with me. I just never know. I’ve never known all my life.

So, that night actually passed with nothing much other than me falling asleep to the careless whispers of a suicidal ten year old.

The next morning I ate some pretty good breakfast. Weird thing about those places that I also found out from another friend who went to one is that the food is actually good.

They didn’t give that whole, “They’re insane. Who cares about ‘em?” shtick.

They really did care for us. They really were nice to us. They really wanted to save us. I wish I’d realized that sooner. Once, when my parents came to visit I told one of the counselors that I’d rather kill myself than be there.

I had a lot of fucked up thoughts. Like, “They’re forcing me not to kill myself. I hate them!” or, “Mercy kills by friends should be legal,” and even, “People should have the right to harm themselves.”

All thoughts I don’t believe in now, but you know that saying about how you’ll look back at your teenage years and wish they burned out of existence? I- I don’t actually feel that way very much. I kept them locked in. “Forgot” about them. And here they are.

How I wish I treated those people the way they treated me. No, it wasn’t the people’s fault for the horror I experienced. It was that place and that boy.

He approached me first about it, the whispering.

“You wanna see them?” he asked.

I kind of chuckled, “Who?”

He just smiled and asked, “You know that camera we got?”

I nodded. We all were able to share a video camera with each other to record whatever we wanted. Sometimes they’d let us film the bugs outside. Sometimes someone would film us playing in gym off to the side.

He said, “Keep the camera with you when we go to bed. I wanna show you something.”

I was a bit freaked out by this. Funny thing is I liked it. I like weird people, then and even now. I’ve dated some girls because they’re weird. The one I have now is that way too and I don’t see us breaking up anytime soon.

Or ever.

So I did. I kept that camera all the way till bedtime thanks to an excuse about a coping technique or something. I never remember conversations except for the ones with that kid.

I told him I had it and he said to turn it on. He gave me a warning first.

He said, “Don’t look yet. I need to tell you something. Whatever you see can’t hurt you.”

I snorted and laid the camera on the bed.

He placed his hand on the camera and said, “Please. I’m showing you this because I can’t bear anyone not believing me anymore.”

I responded with snide, “What are you expecting me to see, kid?”

Jesus, and I thought I was the nicest guy back then.

He said back, “Look, this is gonna be one of those, ‘you won’t believe it till you see it,’ things.”

And I was too dumb and pretentious to realize how freaking old this kid sounded.

“Just grab the camera and trust me,” was the last thing he said before I picked it up and slapped it to my face.

The camera had a night vision mode which seemed to be a thing they weren’t intending to have. Just happened to be on a camera that a doctor wanted to quickly snag for a little project here. A lil’ play time.

So it was green. There was a lot of green.

Whoopty Doo, I thought.

I know my face showed it too because the kid told me to turn around. I made a slight grunt as I flipped around in bed to suddenly be stopped in my tracks, or my hand and knees in this case. There was something there. Something I didn’t wanna believe. I couldn’t. It’s the feeling every horror writer has evoked throughout history. The Fantastic, so they call it. In a corner that I could see with both eyes, my right on the green colored screen and my left on the darkness in front of me, laid a shelf for our clothes and books we had taken here. That’s what I saw with my left eye.

In the screen was a pair of small white dots. For a second it seemed as if two orbs were just floating in the middle of the screen like a reticule. Then I noticed more things. A shape around the dots. A form that looked human, but broken.

Missing hair. Ripped clothes. Scarred skin.

I sat there motionless, wordless.

Then the kid said into my ear, “He won’t hurt you.”

I was so focused on this that his whisper didn’t even spook me.

It was morning. I didn’t even realize it until one of the nurses told me to come to breakfast. The kid wasn’t in my room. I wondered if that whole thing was just some screwed up nightmare. We all got breakfast and some of the girls said I looked awful. Like I hadn’t slept. I about had it. I needed to ask the kid if that really happened. I was able to get a spot across from him.

I asked, “You have any weird dreams last night?”

He was serious this time. Not really the, “Now you know what the problem is. Now we’ve gotta exterminate it,” kind of serious. More like the, “Thank you God, someone sees it too,” kind of serious.

He said, “Thank you.”

I got hit by something suddenly.

There’s two kinds of sad people in the world. There’s the ones who get hurt emotionally. Who think everything’s wrong with the world and don’t want to live in it anymore. Then there’s the physically depressed. The ones who have a hard life. Who wore their bones every day and got shit on for it. These two just had a lil’ meetup.

I like helping people. Often times it ends up just hurting me, but I still do it anyways.

“Whaddya need man?” I asked him.

“Just…” he paused, “… believe me. Make me feel like I’m not crazy. Experience it with me.”

This moment with him was the first step to changing me. Another was meeting my current girlfriend, now fiance. I felt for people back then, but I was a cynical asshole. I only felt for the pure. He sort of broadened my horizons.

So, that night we managed to keep the camera again.

For the last time.

“Alright, where do I point it?” I asked him.

He pointed at the side of my bed. That didn’t make me comfortable, not one bit. I never really asked him what these were, but never really stopped in that moment to take the opportunity.

I just turned, turned, turned.

And there it was. Another person, disheveled, ruined, almost burned looking. Unlike last time I about jumped out of bed. It was staring at me with it’s hands on my bed like a dog begging for a treat.

I did ask this, “Can you talk to it?”

He said, “Yeah. It’s speaking to me right now.”

I just barely noticed that the thing’s lips were moving. What I didn’t notice at all was the worry in the kid’s voice until he called my name.

“Brendon. The door.”

I looked at him and he was pointing at the door out to the hallway that a light cast on as well as on a portion of the floor in our room. There was nothing there and I knew what to do. It’s just something made me not want to in that moment. It wasn’t the fear I felt with the thing next to my bed. This was dread. This was evil. This was wrong. I slowly motioned the camera towards the door. Slower than to the thing by my bed. It came into view as just a black mass. Like the camera was being messed up. Not showing whatever was there. Then it was a form. A human. A tall, thin, male body with something on it’s face. It was a crudely drawn smiley face on a piece of paper somehow attached. The ink was smeared and the paper was crumpled. Then there was what was in it’s hand. A knife. No mistaking it. Big and pointy.

Then it stepped forward.

We screamed, screamed, screamed in horror. I threw the camera to the ground and ran into the corner. The kid was with me too and we just panicked until the lights suddenly turned on. It was the nurses. They grabbed us and calmed us. It didn’t take me too long to stop panicking, but the kid wouldn’t stop screaming.

He screamed, screamed, screamed.

And dreamed, dreamed, dreamed.

And leaved, leaved, leaved.

My misery, ree, ree.

Sorry about that. Got a little emotional there. We never talked to each other again even while sleeping in the same room. We went four days with complete silence. Trying to avoid each other.

I was never on his team in gym. I sat far away from him during lunch. Even doctors and nurses got a bit concerned if we hadn’t been so normal while away from each other.

There was only one moment when he actually said something to me. It was when I was leaving. The Christian girl and I were being sent home, so they let us say our goodbyes to everyone else. I wanted to let it go. At least have one moment where it’s not awkward. Be polite at least.

I said goodbye to him.

And he said, “He is the bringer of sleep. He will relieve. Make you free from insanity.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything to him because this isn’t a scary story. This isn’t me dying in the end on my last word in this biography. This is me overcoming. It may sound cheesy that this is more uplifting than haunting, but this is just venting.

This is me saying that there is hope. That the bad things are something you can’t see, far off in other places. This is me saying-


Author’s Note: If you’ve gotten this far then you’ve read one of the most personal stories I’ve written. It may actually look familiar to some. This was posted around a year ago on nosleep, but if it’s not familiar then that’s fine. I posted it here because Tumblr’s become kind of my thing now and I wanted to share it with you all.

Depression’s been a big part of my life. Maybe not as bad as other people have had it, but the point of this story and the post itself isn’t about my depression. The point is that I hope you’re all doing good and you’re wanted in this world.

I love existing in a society that glorifies alcohol abuse in college to the point that even though I objectively abuse alcohol currently, I can be in complete denial of this fact until years post-grad when I inevitably ruin the last of my relationships and have to actually confront my issues in the form of government-mandated AA meetings. your first instinctive response to this post might be “emma, you shouldn’t make light of alcoholism in the form of strange meta posts that are a little too real to be funny” but society made light of it first

This is Halloween

[[In which @ectoholtzmann & I can have our characters live like Jack & Sally if we want]]

“Hey, Holtz?” Erin hesitantly knocked on the door to the lab, where the blonde engineer was - as usual - completely emerged in another one of her projects. Not for the first time that day, Erin wondered if she had even taken a single break at all already. Every time she came up to check on Holtz, the woman was hard at work, and it wouldn’t surprise the physicist one bit to learn she was running on sheer force of will alone.

“I was just wondering…” She continued, fingers fidgeting at her sides. “Did you have a Halloween costume idea yet? Because… I don’t know… I thought it could be fun to… Maybe do something together? With the Ghostbusters?”