much that i went back and started to read the old run

100 Dialogue Prompts: Part 4

It’s amazing to see how much we can create together, my amigos. Here’s part 4.

  1. “Look, I might be evil but even I have standards.”
  2. “Do your parents know you’re dating Death?” “No, I promised we wouldn’t get back together after he broke up with me the first time.”
  3. “Wait why am I naked and covered in cheese?”
  4. “Good god, that cake is fuckin stale and dry mate!!” “Just like how you are recently? Gee, thanks.”
  5. "There is always time for a high-five.”
  6. “Karen, what would ever posses you to find me here.”
  7. “Oh my god, put that man down! Come on, let’s go get you some REAL food.”
  8. “A demonic sugar glider?”
  9. “People always say they never thought they would be here but I absolutely did.”
  10. “And I thought I was a bit weird. But you! You are insane!”
  11. “So your hair knows kung-fu? Ha, that’s nothing! MY hair knows HAIR-ATE!” (You know, as in karate) (This used to be an insider between me and a friend…)
  12. “One day, darling, you and I are going to conquer the Universe not just our world.”
  13. “Did you seriously think they wouldn’t notice when their humans went missing?!”
  14. “Well, maybe next time you should consider that not everyone wants to be woken up at four in the morning by a- what IS that, anyway?!”
  15. “Now, how exactly did your foot get stuck in the barrel?”
  16. “I hope you realize what you’re doing. This forest never ends, you know that, right?”
  17. “You can’t just kill someone and then make it all better by saying sorry!”
  18. “Why the fuck is my cat levitating?!” “He said he wanted to feel what flying was”
  19. “You’re trying to tell me you killed three men…with a microphone?”
  20. “Hang on, are you a John Wick fan?”
  21. “IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING!” “And?” “ I have a strict no murder rule until eight. Call me then.”
  22. “I did realize you were going to be naked the whole time”
  23. “Ok, I understand you like animals, but you can’t just bring a tiger into the apparent without asking!”
  24. “I…I didn’t want you to find out like this. I’m so sorry.”
  25. “OH MY GOD CATHERINE! I JUST SAW A NARWHAL! I’M TELLING YOU, I SAW A FREAKIN’ WHALE UNICORN!”
  26. “I gotta go, I left my toaster in the oven!
  27. "Why is there a gaggle of fancy buisness men on my front lawn?”
  28. “Can you please stop referring to me as ____! That’s not my name!” “Then what is?” “I don’t know!”
  29. *Sarcastic* “Yeah, sure. I won’t at all mind being your footslave.” “Oh, goody! I knew you’d agree!” “Wait, what?”
  30. “When are you going to give up on this whole ‘evil’ thing?” “When it stops being so much fun!”
  31. “You didnt say to KILL the man!” “WELL I DIDNT SAY NOT TOO”
  32. “Mum, Dad… I’m gay.” “That’s nice, honey, but now is not the right time!”
  33. “Take a look at your soul and consider your life choices! Oh wait, that’s right! You don’t fucking have a soul!” “Oh, god, just go drown in a bathtub of syrup why don’t ya?”
  34. “I kindly ask you to please quit making your heart stop. It’s creeping me out!” “So… Y-You were sleeping in a coffin” “Yeah I’m used to it” “Are you a vampire or what?! How can someone get used to sleep in a coffin?” “No I’m used to sleep I never said that I’m used to sleep in a freaking coffin!”
  35. “Darling I love you, more than I can ever express in words…. But please stop teaching chickens necromancy.”
  36. “I wanted to know why you stole souls, not your melodramatic backstory…”
  37. “I really wish that old white man would stop rubbing his nipples at me”
  38. “You know it is written: Do not summon Satan, right ?”
  39. “Look around, what is this?” “My room?” “No, this is pathetic.”
  40. “I’ve been a professor for 20 years, and yet still my greatest secret hasn’t been revealed–I can’t read.”
  41. “Our souls don’t belong in these 'human’ bodies, every one of us is implanted here from another galaxy, and this has been the case for a thousand years. No one knows what 'actual humans’ are like without us inhabiting them.”
  42. “Did you just create a portal in time and space to pull another version of yourself into this world so I have to deal with another annoying idiot?” “No but thanks for the idea.”
  43. “You’re bleeding?!” “Nah, I’m frolicing in a field of flowers - yes I’m bleeding!”
  44. “Let me get this straight. I tell you that I make a decent omelette and you somehow equate that to qualification for piloting a spaceship?”
  45. “It’s the weekend! Let’s hit the town! See a concert, redo our wardrobes, get high, start a crime ring, I don’t know.”
  46. “Keep running, you’ve only got 4HP!”
  47. “This is clearly your first time. Stop screaming already, you’ll wake the neighbors!”
  48. “Has anyone seen the outdoors?” “What the fuck is an outdoors?”
  49. “Why do I feel like this again, I thought we were done with this?”
  50. “Look, as much as I like to hang out with you, I’ve gotta go and save the earth. Toodles!”
  51. “Have you seen?… oh shit”
  52. “Two questions: one, how many matches do you have, and two, where do you keep your socks?”
  53. “Because fuck surveys, that’s why!”
  54. “Stop yelling out the window or the koalas will rip your face off!”
  55. “I guess when I heard 'Night of Debauchery’… I didn’t picture muffins on your pajamas.”
  56. “Honey, you can’t keep throwing people to the pit of pain and despair just because they don’t like choc mint ice cream.”
  57. “Oh, no honey, put that back…”
  58. “It’s going to be too late, you know. It’s always too late.”
  59. “Hey, so, uh… I’m in trouble…” “What did you do this time?” “I got stranded in Wales….. again…”
  60. “OK, but… how do we get the dog out of a hole in space in time exactly?”
  61. “Aren’t people supposed to grow instead of shrink ?”
  62. “Wait. You’re aroused?” “Why would that surprise you?” “It does on account of you being covered in blood. Wipe that smile off your face. You look like a cat in heat.”
  63. "I pay your taxes”
  64. “No, ____. We did not raise our hamster like this.”
  65. “You can’t run from your own shadow(s), what makes you think you can run from theirs?”
  66. “You adopted… a dog?” “Mate, that’s not a dog.”
  67. “And at this moment, he decided to punch himself in the face.” “Narrator, listen, I know you’ve been with me my whole life, but you’re a huge jerk.”
  68. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a portal BEFORE we ended up here?”
  69. “Is that…the Mona Lisa.” “…Yes…” “What did I say to you about stealing priceless artifacts!?” “…That I had to take you with me next time.” “Exactly!”
  70. “Yes, I agree, magic is pretty cool. But did you really have to use it for THIS?”
  71. “Despite the fact that was epic, you’re still suspended”
  72. “Chill, dad it’s not what you think it is!” “Well it looks like you’re making out with the demon your grandma banished to cellar…WHY IS HE IN YOUR ROOM?”
  73. “If you truly love me you’ll let me-OH FUCKING HELL DID YOU JUST STAB ME!?”
  74. “Spoon”
  75. “What began as a conflict over the transfer of consciousness from flesh to machines escalated into a war which has decimated a Million worlds.The ___ and the ___ have all but exhausted the the resources of a galaxy in their struggle for domination. Both sides, now crippled beyond repair, the remnants of their armies continue to battle on ravaged planets, their hatred fueled by over four thousand years of total war. This is a fight to the death. For each side, the only acceptable outcome is…“
  76. ”… I’m going back to bed. You brought it here, you can deal with the mammoth yourself.“
  77. "Is the food supposed to be moving?”
  78. “You mean to tell me that in the two minutes I was gone,  you bombed a minor country,  got married to a stripper,  and assassinated a world leader?!”
  79. “Is that a unicorn???? EATING MY BEEF JERKY?!”
  80. “Do I get to dream about you again tonight?”
  81. “Well now I have to change clothes AGAIN!”
  82. “All of this was because of a… OF A PLUSHIE?!” “Well…Yeah?” “Great, how are we going to get out of jail now?!”
  83. “So…you gonna tell me why my brother is upside down and why you’re wearing my purple thong?”
  84. “Did you really have to burn down another Cracker Barrel?”
  85. “Sir, that’s impossible, you can’t do that.” “IS THAT A FUCKING CHALLENGE?!?!”
  86. “We need to invade Portugal.” “…Sure, why not?”
  87. “Did you divide by zero?! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL US ALL”
  88. “Stand down, Milady, this is a matter between gentlemen with mustaches.”
  89. “Next time you get arrested I am NOT paying your bail” “That’s a lie and you know it.” “….”
  90. “I thought you were dead.” “So did I”
  91. “John dont flush the dog down the toilet”
  92. “What did I say again about resurrecting dictators??”
  93. “Cucumbers are NOT pets… what do you mean, you ate him??”
  94. “Are you and God seriously fighting right now? And what happened to Satan?”
  95. “Are ferrets supposed to be blue??”
  96. “I’m the protagonist? Well I guess that explains why I look like about a thousand other people.”
  97. “Why do I do this to myself?”
  98. “Stop eating your tortilla chips with ketchup. It’s unattractive.”
  99. “How do you eat an entire cheese wheel in one sitting?”
  100. “Why are God and Satan moving in with us?”

Let’s make one more ‘100 Dialogue Prompts’ list together. Leave a comment with your prompt below. Don’t forget the double quotes “”. And as always, only one prompt per amigo! Also, here is your random Dutch word of the day: pindakaas

anonymous asked:

hey would you ever do a "what if harry potter had been a girl" story? or a trans girl? i don't know how much gender would change things except other people's perceptions but...

Hermione went to the library, when Harry first confided in her. Whatever the faculty, the administration, or the Ministry believed or didn’t believe, the Hogwarts library gave the children what they needed and always would.

Hermione came back with books and books on gender in wizarding history, on the spells and words wizards had used for centuries or decades or mere years, and she and Harry bent their heads together and figured out what words Harry felt best told her story. From her hometown library, after that first summer, Hermione brought back memoirs and brightly-colored pamphlets that Harry read through instead of finishing her Potions homework.

When Harry looked in the Mirror of Erised, she still saw her mother, her father, all her gathered, lost kin. The specter of her father gathered up her hands in his. Her mother pushed back the long dark hair Petunia had always made her cut short and she called her beautiful.

When she looked into it again, after Devil’s Snare and winged keys, giant chess and Ron lying prone on the floor, Hermione wringing her eleven year old hands in the potion riddle room– When Harry looked into the Mirror again, she saw herself, just herself. The girl in the mirror winked and smiled and slipped the Stone in Harry’s pocket. No matter what other wishes and want laid on her narrow shoulders, at the end of the day the thing Harry wanted most was to help. Harry brushed one hand over the lump of rock in her robe pocket, and then brushed her other over her mess of hair, which was feet shorter than the girl in the mirror’s.

She woke up in the hospital wing, bedside table piled high with candy.

Once Harry and Hermione had sussed out between them what the words were for what was going on here, they had explained it to Ron. Harry didn’t come out to anyone else until partway through second year, though, at the height of the Heir of Slytherin nonsense.

She was fed up, then. She just wanted to be left alone, and this wouldn’t help with that, but they were all already staring. Keeping this to herself felt like a vice around her chest. Hogwarts was supposed to be better.

After, Ron came almost to blows with anyone who goggled or sniffed or rolled their eyes. Seamas learned to swallow his tongue. Draco Malfoy didn’t. Hermione wrote up an explanatory note about appropriate pronouns in her best penmanship and then copied it with flicks of her wand. With Harry’s embarrassed permission, she gave it to every professor Harry had or would ever have.

Colin Creevey stopped her in the Great Hall with a tug on her sleeve. She turned, shoulders rising, and the kid said in his piping voice, “You’re still my hero.”

That was better than it could have been, but she wasn’t sure she liked the “still.”

Peeves, though he was nasty about everything else–ickle firsties and orphan girls–got it immediately. For all six years of her Hogwarts tenure, he dropped water balloons on the heads of anyone who misgendered her. Professor Binns never quite figured it out, but he didn’t know any student’s name. Nearly Headless Nick gallantly and somewhat awkwardly called her lady and tried to hold open doors for her, despite the fact that he couldn’t open them.

Snape called Harry “Mr. Potter” for all seven years that he was in Harry’s life. Around year three, Ron stopped counting the detentions he got for his increasingly sarcastic responses to this.

The whispers about the Heir of Slytherin grew louder and louder, keeping pace with “Uh, I thought it was the Boy Who Lived?” Fred and George Weasley took it upon themselves to walk Harry to and from class when they could, talking loudly enough to drown everything out.

Then Hermione got Petrified and the Heir whispers stopped abruptly. Harry, if she hadn’t been busy with Ron trading off reading their assigned textbooks aloud to Hermione in the infirmary, might have felt gratified that the whole school knew how much this bushy-haired kid meant to her. Alright, so they thought she might murder Muggleborns with a mysterious monster, or sic a snake on her opponent in a dueling club? But they knew she wouldn’t hurt Hermione for anything.

In the Chamber, she met Tom Riddle. He was supposed to be her mirror, though she didn’t quite know that yet. He was supposed to be her shadow, the chain around her ankle, the other half (or another eighth) of her story and his soul.

Ginny had been trying to speak for months– to tell someone, to open the diary and the bag under her bed full of chicken-blood-stained robes and to thrust them into the light. But Percy had shushed her, all his assumptions orbiting his own importance to her story. The teachers had patted her on the head. She had been frightened, eleven years old with Tom whispering in her ear, guiding her hands.

Harry had been trying to speak for years– to explain to someone the way she did not feel like Dudley, like Vernon, like the boys in the locker room at school. Hermione had listened. Hermione had given her books and books of people who felt like her. Ron had listened, and taught her wizard’s chess, and kicked Draco in the shins.

But here Harry was, standing alone– a red-haired lump at her feet, dark robes sodden with moldy water. Hermione was frozen. Ron was trapped behind a rock fall and Tom was pacing, gloating, glowing. Ginny was breathing. Ginny had to be breathing. Harry was going to save her. She had to, because no one had listened to the kid, not even Harry.

The phoenix tears left no scars on Harry’s arm. Riddle, the Chamber, the life going out of her, everything that had happened in that long year– none of it left scars on Ginny, or at least none that anyone could see.

When Harry got back to 4 Privet Drive that summer, she suffered through Aunt Petunia’s annual hair cut and then she curled up with Hedwig and wrote a letter. She wrote about the Muggle candies she missed when at Hogwarts, and how her cousin thought she was weird for being excited about summer homework. She asked Ginny how she was.

Ginny wrote back after a long week. She didn’t answer the question, but she wrote about helping Dad on the car, about the apple harvest coming, and Fred and George playing pranks on the ghoul in the attic.

Keep Reading

Keep reading

Did you ever have a genuine psychic/medium experience?

Although many readings can be attributed to cold readings or sheer coincidence sometimes it’s uncanny how accurate psychics/mediums can be. Here’s a collection of supposedly genuine experiences from threads. If you have an experience feel free to tag me @sixpenceee!

by reddit user Jinuxxx

I never believe in palm /card readings. I don’t actually believe in it nowadays. BUT when I was in 9th grade, my friend took me with her to a fortune teller so she can have her future read. Surprisingly she mentioned about her love dilemma, a blonde guy and dark haired guy. She was completely convinced about her reading powers while I was meh… We’re teenagers, it’s natural we’ll find ourselves in situations like this. And then she predicted the scores she’ll get at the exams when you finish high school (in our country there are some mandatory subjects for the exams, thus multiple numbers) she guessed that right. If I think really hard about probabilities and stuff I can find a logic explanation to that as well. 

by reddit user GoobyBear22

About 5 years ago I saw a psychic that a family friend had told me was the real deal. I went in skeptical and came out a believer.

She used tarot cards and knew things that could have been lucky guesses, like that I had just bought a house and was renovating it, but she also knew specific things that no one else could have known.

The most amazing part of the whole thing was that she knew that I had some complications with my hormones and had a surgery in the past that would make getting pregnant very difficult, but she told me Despite all this, I would have a baby later in life. Toward the end of the reading she hands me the tarot cards and tells me to shuffle them. Then tells me to ask three questions in my mind one at a time. I decided to really test her authenticity so the first question I decided to ask was am I going to have children, and halfway through laying the five cards down, she stops and looks at me and scolds me saying “I already told you that you were going to have one child!” hah this is when I knew.

by reddit user wobblerss

This was before I was born. My mom had a neighbor who was a grandpa who could see the future. He told my mom that my sister would be really sick when she became a preteen and not to worry because she’d be okay. When my sister was a preteen she was diagnosed with cancer and after a year and a half she was perfectly fine. My mom was pregnant with me when she met him again and he told her that I would be a c-section baby. My mom already knew this and said she had scheduled the c-section already since I was breach but he was adamant that she would have me on a certain day and that the c-section wouldn’t go on the planned day. I was born on the exact day he predicted.

Nothing too crazy but the fact that he knew that my sister would be sick and would be okay is crazy to me. He also didn’t want any money and approached my mom and asked if he could do a reading for her.

Keep reading

I have some opinions/thoughts that I’d really love to get off my chest even if other people think I’m completely wrong.

Gaston did not deserve to die, Gaston was hardly a bad person, Gaston was basically forced into being the villian of this story.

[I’m referring to the 2017 remake of BATB rather than the original animation.]

Let’s point out some difference between the 1991 Gaston and 2017 Gaston
-2017 Gaston was not a misogynist
-did not abuse Lefou
-even verbally
-Like for fucksakes, the friendship between Lefou and Gaston was so genuine. I’m frequently seeing these things around Gafou is an abusive ship, buts it’s really not? He tells Lefou ‘thank you’ says ‘you’re the best Lefou’ sincerely asks ‘how has no woman snatched you up?’, messes around with Lefou like buds (wrestling bite marks, picking him up to demonstrate strength, gets on the table and dances with him), let’s Lefou calm him down and boop his nose, and not once does he insult or hurt even when it seemed like he would (after Lefou wrapped his arms around him, or when he couldn’t spell his name, when he said ‘who needs her when you’ve got us’, etc). They’re sincerely good, close friends, but don’t worry I’m not ignoring all the shitty things Gaston did to Lefou I will get to that in a second.
-I said he’s not a misogynist, right? Cause that’s important. Big step away from the OG.
-Doesn’t insult Belle for reading
-Instead he feigns interest in the book because he knows it’s her interest
-even brings her flowers, whataguy
-Has manners (“excuse me, please let me through” going through the crowd, didn’t push everyone out of his way)
-Goes to her rescue when the town’s people are being mean (sure this is because he wanted to be the hero to seduce her, but seriously he was one of the few people who didn’t harass or bully Belle for being different)
-Doesn’t call Maurice crazy and instead offers his help to soothe the men (again, seduction, but seriously he’s still being polite and helping the underdog unlike the OG)

I’ll probably think of more things to add to this Gaston-wasnt-an-asshole list but I think this basically gets the point across that, well, Gaston wasn’t an asshole. He was immensely vain, yes, but that doesn’t mean he was a bad person.
Cus ya know who else started out incredibly vain but still managed to be the fucking prince in this story?
Yep, the Beast/Adam of course.

Time to do some comparing of the prince and the villian because spoiler alert, they basically parallel each other.

I’ll begin this part with Belle’s comment of, “No one can change THAT much, Gaston”
Ahem

LITERALLY SHUT THE FUCK UP ARE YOU SERIOUS
This line pissed me off immensely, because that’s literally Adam’s entire character arc, changing himself completely, literally and figuratively.

Like I’m sorry you wanna do a repeat of the song “Something there” aka the song where the lyrics are basically “he was an asshole brute who I hated but now he’s c h a n g e d”
Literally so pissed off at that all.

But as I was saying, Gaston basically mirrors Adam’s arc, meaning to say they’re practically the same character things going on but sorta reversed.

Like okay
-Upon first meeting Belle, the Beast locks her father then her in a tower and is a huge dick but then they bond over books and he gives her flowers and he’s nice to her.
-Upon first interacting with Belle, Gaston is nice to her, gives her flowers, tries to bond over books, but then he’s a huge dick and locks her father and then her in a cart.

Do you see what I did there? Literally the same actions, but backwards.

Let’s do some more comparing.
-They both have terrible, terrible tempers.
But you know what? The Beasts is definitely a lot worse than Gaston’s.

Let’s review how both Gaston and Adam dealt with Belle’s dinner rejection
-Beast: literally motherfucking demands she has dinner with him, bangs his paws on the door, scrEAMS at her, and then announces she can starve if she won’t eat with him
-Gaston: [not direct quotes, can’t remember exact words but basically what he says] “oh, busy?” nope “okay, then some other time?” boom that’s that. Yeah he still is persistent on winning her over even after this rejection but the man handled it a lot better then Adam (and he brought flowers for her dinner table).

I’m about to move on from Adam and start talking about how Gaston treated Lefou in a sec, but I would just really really really like to put some emphasis on the fact that both Adam and Gaston were incredibly narcissistic men. The amount of self pride and conceded they have is in the beginning is completely parallel and it leads to both of their unfortunate fates. The point in this, is Gaston is not a bad guy just because he loves himself a bit much, just as the Beast was not a bad guy for loving himself too much. Like, the way Adam turns down Agatha for being ugly seems exactly like something Gaston would do, so why does the movie end with Gaston dying while the Beast learns his lesson and gets his happily ever after?
Because, the OG Gaston was truly an asshole who deserved to die and this 2017 remake of course had to stay true to the story. Even though this Gaston really wasn’t a true villian and didn’t deserve to die – rather he deserves a redemption arc just as Adam was given – he died anyway because that’s how the story goes.

Anyway, I’ll get on with this and bring back Lefou.

Some of you have probably been reading this while thinking “But Marley [das my name], Gaston was a shitty person, he wasn’t a good friend to Lefou at all because he manipulated him, let him get punched in the face, didn’t protect him at all, and threatened to lock him up. Plus, he was only into Belle because she’s pretty.”

Alright alright alright: Lefou.
He’s an exceedingly important character as he gives us insight to Gaston’s character.
Two crucial things he reveals about Gaston … .

-Gaston has anger issues. My father has anger issues, and so do I, and we both are on meds for it. Let me say, having anger management problems and getting angry are very different things. It’s just like he having anxiety and getting nervous are very different things. I think most of you can probably relate or understand anxiety more then anger issues, so just put yourself in Gaston’s shoes with that in mind. Anyway, back to Lefou. He shows us that Gaston has anger issues when he rushes to Gaston’s aid by saying “deep breathes” and then “think about the war”. He tells us that Gaston has coping mechanisms for when he gets like this. Does it matter if Gaston has anger problems? Does it make him less of a dick? Like, seriously Marley, does this information really make up for any of the things he did? Yes, yes it does matter. It’s like when you/someone your love is having an anxiety attack, or when you fall into a depressive episode, or when a loved one acts out of PTSD [which Gaston could totally completely have], or when someone with schizophrenia or delusions starts having episodes, it’s basically exactly like whenever anyone’s mental illness starts to act up. You don’t feel like yourself and you don’t so things you would normally​ do. This is definitely the case for Gaston; he acts out of character when he gets angry like this. And that’s my second point that Lefou proves in this movie.

-Gaston is not being himself when he starts doing all that terrible shit that leads him to his demise. Lefou makes it fairly obvious that that is not how Gaston usually acts. He does this in numerous ways which I will quickly try to summarize and go through:
1) Questions Gaston. Obviously if Gaston often tied up old men to trees or in general left people to die, Lefou would have just went with it instead of going “are you sure?”
2) doesn’t immediately lie to save Gaston’s ass. Again, if Gaston frequently had Lefou lie for him, then it would have came to Lefou like second nature and he wouldn’t have hesitated.
3) Once more, questioning Gaston. The scene I’m about to refer to is when Gaston locks Belle and her father in the carriage. Lefou grabs Gaston’s arm and goes to question him again, but before he can Gaston threatens to lock him up as well. Dick move on Gastons end, no? But this isn’t something he would normally do or say to Lefou, for if it was Lefou wouldn’t have bothered speaking up because he would have known what Gaston’s reaction would be. Instead, Lefou is used to being able to talk sense into Gaston and reason with him (refer back to nose boop scene).
4) Running to Gaston’s side for protection during the fight [castle scene]. Lefou is probably used to having Gaston protect him during fights (war time) and obviously didn’t expect Gaston to throw him to the enemy. Like, yous guys heard him shriek Gaston’s name before the piano fell on him, right? He was obviously expecting Gaston to rescue him. Even after he’s trapped under the piano, he still reaches and calls out for Gaston. The way Gaston is acting is not the Gaston he knows.
5?) “I was on Gaston’s side, but we are so in a bad place right now” [however he says it you know the line I’m referring to]. Aight I think this is the one line that really captures the point I’m trying to make. Lefou has switched sides because Gaston is being a major douchebag and Lefou’s not having it. Lefou doesn’t put up with being treated like shit [MrsPotts saying he deserves better and Lefou agreeing]. So o b v i o u s l y Lefou is not used to Gaston being so cruel and angry. If Gaston treated Lefou like this all the time, then Lefou wouldn’t be by his side [because he left his side once he started acting like this]. Lefou knows how he should be treated, and how he’s being treated is not what he’s used to.
You dig what I’m saying? I’m kinda rushing through these points because I’m getting tired of this.

*deep breathe* Alright, last point, as I mentioned above, ‘Gaston only wanted Belle because she was beautiful’ Alright alright alright I’m not even going to talk about the Gaston in this point, I’m just going to talk about the huge flaw that is Beauty and the Beast.

Adam is turned into the Beast because he needs to learn to not judge people by how they look, he needs to learn that it’s what’s on the inside that matters.
Right.
So why is Belle the one that learns this lesson?
Adam falls in love with a gorgeous girl, meanwhile Belle falls in love with a hideous monster who turns into a nice dude on the inside.
Belle is the character who learned to not judge a book by its cover [cover being a monsterous beast but inside he is a gorgeous prince].
As soon as Belle walked into the castle, all the furniture was like “yooooo she could be the one, master hit her up” and instantly Adam’s like “well I need a girl to fall in love with to break my curse and she cute yeah let’s do it”. Like of course there’s more to our then this, but what I’m trying to say is Adam had already planned to try to charm Belle before he knew what kind of person he was because he was desperate to break the curse.
So he and everyone in the castle just saw her and was like “she was a girl, he was a boy, can I make it anymore obvious?”
So anyway anyway anyway, Gaston was only interested in Belle because she was beautiful and he wanted a wife, but Beast was only interested in Belle because she was beautiful and could break the spell. See the parallels again? Like, Beast later fell in love with Belle for who she was and she made him a better person, Gaston could have totally done the same thing.
And okay, there’s no proof Beast cared that Belle was beautiful or not, but yo, Disney definitely should have made Belle ugly af so when Adam met her the snob in him would have been “ew she’s ugly, next” and then Lumiere and Mrs. Potts woulda been like “boi Imma whoop yo ass if you don’t give that girl a try, I don’t care how fucked up her teeth are smfh” and then Adam would have learned the lesson that the enchantress was trying to school him about in the first place [this applies to the 1991 animated film, not directly at the 2017 btw]

Well I was trying to keep this professional and moreso eloquently written but you can tell I’m coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine gotta gotta be down because I want it all

Okay okay okay
Okay okay
Okay

I believe we’re nearing the end. I believe I’ve said all I needed to say made all the points I could [honestly definitely not because I’m constantly thinking about this and arguing with no one in my head, I have a lot to say and later I’ll be making toast and be like “anD ONE MORE THING”]

I’m very upset Gaston died because he wasn’t a terrible enough character to deserve death.

So Dear Disney, either make Gaston more of a shitty person, or bring him back to life. I’ll be waiting for an apology letter until this is done.

Of course I’m kidding.

I just have such a love and passion for Gaston and I’m truly sick of hearing people tell me that Gafou is an abusive ship and Gaston is a villian.

And if you refuse to see that Gaston wasn’t a bad guy but still believe that Adam is such a prince than you’re insanely hypocritical.

People just see what they want to see.

Also I’m terribly sorry for making this so diddly damn long, I honestly have no idea how to do the cutoff “Show more” thing, I’m on mobile. So sorry if you’re trying to rapidly scroll past all of this and it’s taking forever.

But honestly fuck you don’t scroll past my argument.

And also if you legit read all this then motherfucking congratulations to you. Like I don’t even want to read all of this shit to edit it.

Thanks for the attention. Marley OUTT
Wolfstar Raising Harry AU Headcanons

* Toddler Harry with his little leather jacket just like Sirius’s
* Sirius, in dog form, carrying toddler Harry all around the house on his back
* Because Sirius and Remus don’t want to act like they’re replacing Harry’s parents, he grows up using “my Moony” and “my Pads” the way most people say “my mum and dad”.
* When Harry was little, he was scared of thunderstorms. He’d run and hide under Remus’s oversized sweater, wrapping his arms around Remus and shaking.
* Sirius always made pancakes in crazy shapes- a snitch, a broomstick, a dragon, a castle- and sometimes in different colors with food dye.
* Little Harry not understanding why his Moony had to lock himself in the basement for the night once a month
* At night, Remus would read Harry bedtime stories, both the Tales of Beedle the Bard and the Grimm Brothers stories, because that’s what Lily would have wanted.
* Harry jumping up and down with excitement when Sirius and Remus decide he’s old enough for a real broomstick
* When they went out shopping, Harry would hold both his guardians’ hands and jump in the air and swing between them for a second every couple steps
* When Remus and Sirius were busy, Andromeda would babysit. Harry loved playing with his older “cousin”, Tonks.
* After a very eventful trip to the park during which they discovered Harry was a parselmouth, they bought him a pet snake, which he named Sherman. At first, Remus wasn’t very happy about it (he didn’t much like snakes), but then he noticed that Harry’s room stayed cleaner than it normally did. When asked, Harry revealed that Sherman had started refusing to play with him until he did his tidying. After that, Remus was rather fond of the creature.
* Ignoring protests from Sirius, Remus bought Harry a few academic books (Elementary Transfiguration, Defense for Dummies, A Simplified History of Magic, etc.) a full year before he got his Hogwarts letter.
* Harry always writing his name as Harry L. B. Potter (for Lupin-Black), because he wanted to acknowledge them as his parents without giving up his connection to Lily and James
* Sirius tearing up when he and Remus put Harry on the Hogwarts Express for the first time
* The Weasley twins showing Harry the map, thinking he’ll be astounded, but he just goes, “Oh, my dads made that!”
* Harry was warned about Snape by both Remus and Sirius (albeit in very different ways) ahead of time, so he studied his Potions book diligently over the summer and answered all Snape’s questions correctly with an infuriating smirk on his face.
* The Mirror of Erised still shows Harry’s parents, but Remus and Sirius are there too, because he can’t imagine life without them.
* The first time Harry jinxes Malfoy at school (for making extremely offensive comments about half-humans), he gets a Howler the next morning that yells only “NICE ONE, SON” in Sirius’s voice.
* Sirius thinks it’s hilarious that people think Harry is the heir of Slytherin in 2nd year. “Sherman wants to know why he doesn’t have his own secret chamber too!”
* When Remus teaches in 3rd year, Harry is thrilled. He proudly announces, “That’s my Moony,” when Remus takes his seat at the staff table. In the evenings, he hangs out in the DADA classroom to do his homework, often accompanied by Ron and Hermione.
* Harry showing up to class late and Remus, trying to look stern but still smiling a little, says, “I’m sorry, Harry, but I’m going to have to give you a detention,” to which Harry grins and responds, “Yes, /sir/,” because he spends most evenings with his Moony anyway, and Remus never docks points or schedules the detentions to interfere with Quidditch. Occasionally, someone tries to complain to McGonagall about Harry being shown favoritism, but she just shrugs and says, “He’s serving detention, isn’t he?”
* Harry casts his Patronus by thinking about the first time Remus took the Wolfsbane Potion and could stay home on the full moon.
* After the mud-throwing incident in Hogsmeade, Harry runs up to the DADA classroom to tell Remus all about it, and they both laugh, and Remus says, “That’s my boy, haunting the Shrieking Shack just like his Moony.”
* Harry constantly sending Remus messages like, “How can I accomplish this thing without technically breaking any school rules” and Remus almost always has an answer.
* Sirius dying of laughter as a very aggravated Harry recounts, via the two-way mirrors, his attempts to secure a date for the Yule Ball
* Sirius and Remus arriving in a panic less than five minutes after Barty Crouch Jr was unmasked, with Sirius actually looking close to tears. They resolutely refuse to leave, no matter what Madam Pomfrey says, though they consent to be silent. Harry falls asleep holding both their hands.
* Harry trying to sneak into Order meetings under the Invisibility Cloak, so Remus and Sirius get in the habit of Summoning his glasses before they start to check if he’s in the room. Harry, with his father’s cleverness, retaliates by teaching himself how to make things Unsummonable.
* When Harry tells them that he has to go on a mission for Dumbledore, Sirius snorts and says, “You don’t really think we’re letting you go off on your own, do you? We’re coming.”
* The last time Harry sees Remus and Sirius before going to sacrifice himself, they’re fighting back-to-back against a pair of Death Eaters. Harry whispers, “I love you. Don’t die,” before turning away.

Let’s talk for a bit, because I’ve known about this for a while and I think now’s a good time to explain how I feel about using music not originally written for OC’s. This might be a lengthy read, because it’s personal. This vid was one of the first to use Tokyovania as Ink Sans’ theme.

I absolutely love when music can be associated with a character. I think it’s magical when a track makes you think of something you love or enjoy, and I love seeing messages or comments that I track I wrote would fit someone’s OC, because it feels special. Originally, this video was meant to be a tribute, with my track as the proposed theme, and I didn’t worry about it. After all, I didn’t write Tokyovania for Ink Sans, I wrote it for personal reasons, and I was sure most would understand that.

After a few months, it started to catch on for some reason that this indeed was written for him. A few other tribute vids were posted, and my name was nowhere to been seen as the artist of the track. On some videos, the name was also changed to Inklovania. The “Tokyo” was just erased, on a song containing the melody of “Tokyo Teddy Bear”, an incredibly special track I adored in 2014-2015. 

Back then I was in high school. It was me against the world, and I had two friends. Things became rough around September in 2015, and I’ll keep the events hidden because they’re not something I need a reminder of. By December I was alone, and I had nowhere to turn but to music. I walled myself off and focused on composing, and being quietly alone all the time eventually led to the idea of Undertronic.

It was around this time that I decided to compose a remix of Tokyo Teddy Bear, as it’s a song I associate with wishing I could be anywhere else when things aren’t great. Seeing as I was also remixing Undertale at the time, I thought I’d combine it with another track, as a particular character was also in the same situation as I was, in terms of emotion.

In short, it was a special little remix to me and it would stay that way until Ink Sans became involved. Like I mentioned, I love when others use my music for OC’s, but I started to realize there was something wrong when I was accused of stealing this theme from Ink Sans, that it solely belonged to him, that I didn’t write it and I was a terrible person.

And the list goes on and was almost constant. To many, I’ve been disregarded as the artist of the track because “It doesn’t matter who wrote it,” and nothing hurts more to a musical artist than having a personal song be taken, even accidentally, from you and it suddenly becomes something else. The meaning behind the song no longer matters, and no matter what I do, this song will always be known as his theme. 

It feels like a inconceivable back-stab knowing that literally millions believe this is his theme. I don’t even want to know how many would believe I stole the track from an OC, as if an actual artist doesn’t exist and the track magically created itself. Months went by, then a year went by, and I was very bitter about this track and the accusations I kept receiving. Finally I decided to write a response, and this response was “Tokyovania Control.”

I wrote in the description that I didn’t like the old Tokyovania. This is only partially true. I loved it for what it represented to me, I hated it for how I was being treated because of it.

If you may have noticed, I included new lyrics for Tokyovania Control. It was a slightly hidden, but direct message to how I felt, and it started at 0:53. Breakdown of the meaning is in the brackets.

How’d I get this feeling?  [How’d it come to this?]
I am running from this beauty,  [I am running from Tokyovania.]
Misunderstood or  [It’s been misunderstood what the track is about.]
Whom it’s made for?  [Who was the track made for? Even I’m not sure now.]
There’s no purpose,  [The song has lost its original meaning.]
Words are worthless.  [Explaining/arguing won’t do anything.]
Well, it’s still charming.  [I still adore the track though. It was special to me.]
I’d say “Sorry.”  [Sorry, it was my mistake to let harsh words harm me.]
“My mistake to let it harm me.”
“Pardon my writing.”  [Pardon my music, I’m sorry I got in your way, I should be thankful that this track is loved right? Indeed I am selfish for believing my name should be next to Tokyovania.]
Though it hurts, it still sounds special taken from me,
“Heh, oh well.”  [Though it hurts, Tokyovania still sounds special taken from me. There’s nothing I can do now, so oh well.]

It was hidden well, and I didn’t expect anyone to catch on. And I was right, no one figured out why these lyrics were added or what they meant.

So no, I still don’t mind when a track I write is used for an OC’s theme. I only mind when I become non-existent as the producer, because “Who cares who wrote it, just enjoy the music.” I also mind when I am repeatedly told my work doesn’t belong to me, and I’m a horrible person for stealing a theme that belongs to an OC.

It’s one of the reasons I tend to include signature melodies in my music now. I don’t want to be forgotten or disassociated with my work. I don’t want to be told I don’t deserve to be the artist. Is it annoying? To some it is, but it’s a hell of a lot better than going through another Tokyovania situation. Having a track recognized by millions as an OC’s theme scares me much more than having someone simply steal the track, and nothing is worse to a musician than being repeatedly told my work doesn’t belong to me anymore, it belongs to an OC, and I’m scum for thinking otherwise.

I suppose what I’m trying to say, is be careful when you decide to pick songs to represent OC’s or AU’s. You may think no harm will be done, but it’s impossible to tell if something will take off. I don’t think this has ever been discussed before. I haven’t seen any musicians write about this, or share their thoughts. But I am friends with many of the Undertale remixers, and it’s sad to see that this has also been happening to one of my best friends Kamex with his “Your Best Friend” remix:

His music is gorgeous. He’s so kind & doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. If the remix is titled “Undertale Remix”, that does not mean it is an AU Remix. It is a remix for Undertale. But because this theme was used in an AU theme compilation video, the track apparently belongs to Underfresh. Again, no artist apparently exists and track magically created itself. Even worse, he feels he needs to prove it, so far as to say he has the project files if he needs to show it. To some, he’s not even respected as the producer. If you understand how I feel with Tokyovania, you can imagine how he feels as well.

Even Inktale’s creator recognizes Tokyovania as a theme for Ink, though it’s probably accidental.

Which makes me feel even more guilty, because I hate bringing people down. And knowing this wasn’t written for the AU will probably be a disappointing let-down.

So that’s about it, I thought I might as well share my thoughts, now that it’s almost been a year since this has been going on.

On another note, I’ve been working on something for Dusttale and Outertale. The Dusttale track will probably be the next vid, I dunno.

[Edit: I took a look to see if there were any comments marked as held for review, and the first one I find is-]

[The word choice gets more colorful in there.]

Jake Peralta: Stepdad!AU

So this was going to be an actual fic, but, alas, any sort of narrative wouldn’t come, so instead allow me to offer a series of (not at all canon-timeline compliant) headcanons about Amy Santiago’s tiny daughter taking Jake in as part of the family:

  • When Amy starts at the Nine-Nine, she is Very Adamant that Jake will never meet Maya, largely because a) He’s the worst, and b) Maya doesn’t need to see her mother curse out a fellow employee, but mostly c) He’s The Worst.
  • Except she only lasts twelve days, at which point Captain McGinley calls her in on her day off because he’s finally realized that his new detective has started and he wants to meet her, even though they have met four (4) times and he’s assigned two cases to her and Jake
    • It’s supposed to be a short meeting and she promises a very teary-eyed Maya that she’ll be real quick, but she needs to go in without Maya because McGinley looks like he might yell for some reason, Amy can just tell, and Sarge isn’t here and Amy barely knows anyone else and Jake offers, basically
    • Maya is just v. v. teary when Amy blows her a quick kiss before entering McGinley’s office
    • The meeting lasts exactly forty-seven minutes
    • Amy expects A Disaster when she gets out, or at the very least a very stressed-out Jake trying to pass her daughter off on someone else
    • But instead Maya is sitting in Jake’s lap with two of his superhero figurines gripped between her sweaty little hands, patiently telling a story while Jake writes on a piece of paper next to her
    • “And then there’s a dragon,” Maya says breathlessly, and Jake nods along patiently
    • “Fire-breathing or bearded?” he offers, and Maya really considers it for a moment before deciding on bearded. “Got it, I’ve jotted that down.”
    • “I thought no one was allowed to touch your dolls?” Amy asks when she gets to them, and she’s a little stressed out about this whole situation because Jake is suddenly, like, a kind person? Who’s been watching her daughter for forty-seven minutes and counting?
    • “Uh, obviously this is Red Metal Man and Mr. Star, okay.”
    • It’s not. It’s Iron Man and Captain America, and Amy can tell because she’s not totally out of the loop of the cultural zeitgeit, okay, and she sometimes pays attention to movie posters and has very definitely seen at least two of the superhero movies
    • “Plus I believe I said no Santiagos, and that was back before I knew there was a cool Santiago in the clan.”
    • Maya, meanwhile, has grabbed a pen off of Jake’s desk and is now leaning precariously over said desk and drawing on some of the large blank spaces Jake had left on the paper
    • And Amy realizes that Jake was writing down Maya’s story but made sure there was room so she could draw
    • Jake grins at her sheepishly, braces Maya with one hand on her back to make sure she doesn’t slip, and says, “It’s her vision, and she’s, like, a really good storyteller.”
    • Amy swoons, but in a low-key, subtle way. Probably.
    • Anyway, but Jake is also The Worst, so it doesn’t matter

Keep reading

Body Language (One Shot)

A/N: This was a request from @ihavetwobuckystomyname a very long time ago, and I’m super sorry that this took so long to write, hun! I hope you enjoy it! There’s a song that goes to this as well and it’s right here if you wanna listen!

Body Language - Reader and Bucky have been in a relationship for a while, and she’s ready to take the relationship to the next level. But Reader has a small problem: she’s deaf. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Deaf Reader 

Warnings: Smut. Language. Slight mentions of past neglect. Bucky being adorable. NSFW!

Keep reading

Monkey

Once upon a time, my dear friend Palak @stylishmuser had a dream. She told me that dream and then, within the same day, this video happened. I’m here to put that dream into words. Please enjoy.

Also, @stylesunchained…I dared. I’m sorry.

————————————————————————————————

Harry was waiting patiently for someone on the other end of the phone to answer his call. He had called exactly when he always did; 6:30 on the dot in London, which was half an hour before his daughter went to bed. The nightly ritual had been the same for the past two weeks; he would call before bedtime, talk to his little girl as soon as she had her pajamas on, say goodnight before you tucked her in, and then call back after she was asleep and talk to you until his eyes started to droop. It wasn’t ideal - he would have much rather been home with the two of you - but it was better than nothing.

The familiar and sweet sound of your voice finally echoed in his ears and he saw your face pop up on the tiny screen.

“Hey you,” you smiled, “How are you?”

“Tired,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes a bit to keep them focused, “Lots of meetings and interviews today. Is she still up?”

“Of course. I’ve just had her run and brush her teeth; she should be out soon, she knows what time it is.”

Another few minutes went by as you and Harry talked about what had been going on, but you knew Harry was getting antsy to talk to someone else. As much as he loved conversations with you, he only had a limited time with his daughter before she fell asleep.

“(Y/D/N)!” you called, turning your head, “Daddy’s on the phone and he’s waiting for you!”

It was only a few seconds before the thumping of tiny feet could be heard running down the hallway. A moment later, Harry saw the wild hair of his three-year-old appear in frame and he chuckled.

“Hi, monkey,” he said, waving.

“Hi daddy!”

“I miss you. How are you?”

“I’m good. I went to Nana’s today and Auntie Gem was there!”

Harry grinned. “Was she? That sounds like fun. Did she let you play salon with her hair again?”

His daughter nodded, excitedly. That was one thing Harry was so thankful for; a sister who didn’t care if her niece wanted to poke, prod, braid or twist her hair within an inch of its life. Gemma was always game for a little ‘toddler spa day’.

“Daddy, guess how many more days!!”

“Hmm,” Harry thought, “I don’t know. Tell me.”

She held up both hands, folding two fingers down.

“Only this many! An’ then you’ll be home, daddy!”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you write something about soulmates. Like Betty having an abusive boyfriend and all the bruises and cuts show up on Jughead. And there is soulmates in the world so it's not unusual, but Jughead keeps getting injuries from Betty and starts writing on his arm to her and she rights back to him and can you continue this please thank you.

I lovveee these soulmate aus!
****

“Dude what the hell is that?”

Jughead looked up, confused by the sharp and disgruntled tone of his red headed best friend.

“What’s what?” He raised a confused brow, his eyes scanning his surroundings, searching for something off.

Archie reached for him, pulling Jugheads tanned arm up and into the air, shoving his wrist into his face

“This! Dude if your dad is beating on you again, you can tell me. You know you’re always welcome back at my place, my dad…”

Archie’s voice faded away as Jughead stared at the dark purple and blue bruises littering his arm, fingerprints left nasty circle shapes and some were faded and yellow, they’d clearly been there for a long time. How was that possible? There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed them and he couldn’t remember banging into someone , not to mention he was absolutely positive no one had left those marks on his body, it really wasn’t possible, unless..

“They’re not mine” he whispered, more to himself than anything, his eyes still glued to his arm.

“What are you talking about? Of course they’re yours, bruises don’t just show up, I mean it’s not like.. oh…” Archie trailed off finally understanding

It was Jugheads soulmate.

In life when you’re looking for the one you’re meant to be with, pieces of them become pieces of you. It happens suddenly but there’s no way to know when you’ll meet them. It had happened with Archie last year one day the football player came to school, his lips bright red and clearly made up, Jughead had nearly wet himself, he had laughed so hard as the boy desperately wiped at his mouth, smearing lipstick down his arm.

“It’s my soulmate! Clearly she likes wearing stupid ass lipstick”

Two days later he had met Veronica Lodge at the Riverdale mall, pearls on her neck and deep purple lipstick on her lips plus the addition of two thick black smudges under her eyes, eerily similar to the eye chalk Archie wore to football practice everyday.They had been inseparable ever since.

He watched in amazement as another bruise formed right before his eyes, a deep red welt, similar to the belt lashings he used to get when his father was an alcoholic. It didn’t hurt Jughead physically but the ache in his chest at his “soulmate” having to go through this, made him feel positively violent. Picking his bag up and walking out Archie’s front door, he gripped the bruises on his arm, willing them to stop, wishing he could make them stop for her, she didn’t deserve this, no one did. It was dark by the time he got to the trailer park, his mood volatile and nasty, his father was working on some bike in the front yard and he waved at his son. Jughead stormed past the older man and locked himself in his room, ripping the jeans from his body he stood in the mirror observing his body, sure enough he was covered in the painless bruises.

His eyes filled with tears and he was surprised when he couldn’t hold them back, he hadn’t cried since he was eight years old and his mother left. The door to his bedroom opened slowly and his father stepped in, eyes going wide at his sons bruised body before understanding took over, F.P jones sat on the edge of the bed and held his son as he cried helplessly.

“There’s nothing I can do.” He sniffled
“I can’t help her, I don’t even know her but I can feel her dad” he looked at the bruises once again, his fists clenching “I want to kill whoever did this.” He whispered.

F.P nodded
“I know you do, but right now you can only do so much. So do what you do best.” He rose from the bed, walking over to Jughead desk and handing him a pen

“Write”

With that he shot his son a knowing smile and slowly closed the door.

Jughead lifted the pen too his arm and took a deep breath.
***

Betty threw herself on her bed, her body aching from the beating she had just taken. She had tried to break up with Chuck again, she had tried so many times but each time it had ended exactly the same, Betty laying bloody on the floor begging for the angry boys forgiveness.

She rested her face on the soft silk pillowcase and bit her tongue, she had learned not to cry out, never let anyone see the bruises, be quiet Betty Cooper. Be perfect.

She couldn’t do it anymore, she was tired, so damn tired of being perfect. She wanted to go away, to sleep, sleep forever.

She reached into her nightstand and pulled out the tube of concealer, lifting the soft white sweater , fully prepared to cover up the bruises she knew would be visible in cheerleading practice tommorow, what she didn’t expect to see was the messy scrawl scribbled across her bruises

“You’re so much stronger than they are. You’re stronger than all of that white noise. You’re going to be okay, don’t let go. JJ”

Tears pricked her eyes. Her soulmate. She had one. she had gone so long believing she would never have one, destined to be passed around with the other mate less teenagers. She gripped her arm to her chest and let her tears fall freely, he was there and he could feel her, feel her pain. She wasn’t alone anymore.

Grabbing the purple gel pen off of her desk, she began writing back.

***

Jughead stared tirelessly at his arm, he didn’t even know if she was getting his messages, this could all be pointless, suddenly though, his arms were filled with distinctly feminine cursive in sparkly ink.

“Thank you JJ, it’s nice to meet my soulmate . Im sorry it had to be under such horrible circumstances. I’m Betty Cooper”

Betty Cooper? He knew that name, had heard Archie mention it a few times, but from where? He didn’t have time to think about that, ripping up his sleeve even higher he began writing again.

“It’s good to meet you in any way, although I do wish it wasn’t like this as well. Are you okay?”

He smiled when the reply was almost instant

“I’m okay, much better now that I know you’re here.”

They spent all night writing back and forth, Jugheads heart felt lighter that morning at school, and it was a fairly noticeable difference.
Archie of course made a huge deal out of it and Jughead found himself rolling his eyes at lunch when the football player went on about how awesome double dates would be from now on.

“Speaking of going out, i promised Ronnie, I’d meet her at central point park for that concert tonight, shes bringing her friend who’s going through a shitty breakup, i figured you could come along be like a fourth wheel. I promise you can write to your soulmate alllll night if you want.” Archie teased.

Jughead rolled his eyes, reluctantly agreeing.

***

Betty was sore that morning but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face, her soulmate was amazing, he loved writing and reading and they shared similar tastes in movies and he made her laugh like no one else.

“So you’ll come?” Veronica asked, snapping Betty out of her thoughts and pulling her gaze away from the faded words on her arms

“Hmm? Yeah sure, of course.” She answered,dazed.

“Alright love bird, we’re gonna enjoy ourselves tonight at the concert. Maybe you can find some lyrics to write to lover boy” Veronica smiled lovingly at her best friend, excited to see the blonde looking genuinely happy for the first time in ages.

“Maybe” Betty grinned.

***
That night came by fast and Betty took one last look at the words she had just written JJ

“Gotta go Romeo, talk to you later?”

She smiled when the familiar handwriting appeared

“You got it Juliet.”

Betty and Veronica stepped from the car, Betty’s hand tucked in Veronica’s as they navigated the grassy area

“Ronnie! We don’t have to run, I’m sure we wont miss him, that bright red hair is kind of hard not to spot.” She giggled.

Veronica waved her eyebrows suggestively
“I happen to like redheads.”

Betty laughed
“I know, I was there when you started dating Chery Blossom last year.” Betty rolled her eyes

“I don’t discriminate. Love is love and all that” she grinned.

“Speaking of love.”

Both the girls whipped around at the familiar voice and Veronica instantly ran into her boyfriends arms

“Archiekins!”

Archie laughed squeezing his girlfriend,

“Jughead this is Veronica’s best friend, Betty Cooper meet Jughead Jones.”

Jughead nearly dropped the novel he had gripped in his hands as he looked at the beautiful blonde with the bright green eyes and matching blue bruise on her chin, she was even more beautiful than he could have imagined, the very definition of a masterpiece.

“JJ” she whispered, her eyes scanning his and landing on his arms. She was smiling nervously, her fingers fidgeting as she slowly stood in place.

Jughead couldn’t keep the grin off of his face
“ hey there Juliet” he whispered, pulling his sleeves up as she gently rested her fingers on his inkstained arms.

She let out a breathy giggle and before he knew it she was falling into his arms, his own strong arms coming to wrap around her body, covering her and protecting her, now that he found her he was never letting her go.

She looked into his eyes and let the tears fall from hers

“I’ve been waiting for you Jughead Jones.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss to her lips
“You have no idea Betty Cooper”

True Colors

Named after the song by the Weeknd bc I am trash. Thank you to @caspercassiecas for being my beta. This is my first fic on this account, and my ask box is always open for requests. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3606

Warnings: Smut, fluff, disgusting dude at a bar, reader has a dragon tattoo, sex related humor at the end.


“Y/N!” You heard Lin shout, and you sighed heavily, still holding the coffee that the man had sent you to get. You looked around for him, noticing that he was on the other side of the stage. The stage where the company was practicing.

You groaned, sprinting across the stage, ducking and spinning around dancing people. You somehow managed to get across without spilling the coffee, handing it to Lin and smiling before you heard your name called again.

“Y/N! Come meet Diggs! He was sick yesterday, so you didn’t get to meet him!” You heard Christopher shout, and you groaned again, sighing heavily. You looked over, trying to find where Christopher was standing.

“You guys are lucky I do sports.” You muttered, Lin cackling and patting your shoulder.

“Yes, we are. You’ve got a busy second day ahead of you, kid.” Lin laughed, and you groaned, running back across the stage, doing a slide on your knees between a dancer’s legs and ending up at Christopher’s feet, scrambling up.

“Sorry, I learned yesterday that if I time it right, I can get across the stage without being hit.” You explained, brushing yourself off before smiling widely at Christopher and the tall man beside him.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Daveed Diggs, Daveed Diggs, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N is our new intern since Jessica quit the other day.” Christopher introduced them, and you smiled warmly, shaking Daveed’s hand. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Phillipa calling out for you.

“Y/N!”

You made an apologetic face, wincing.

“Sorry, it was lovely meeting you, Diggs. I’ll catch you later.” You waved, weaving between the dancers once more, yelping when one grabbed your hand, spinning and dipping you. You went along with it, doing a couple dance steps with him before he let you go and you ran off to find Phillipa.


You were backstage, delivering Leslie a tea before he had to go on. You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes as you knocked on Leslie’s dressing room door. You heard a muffled ‘come in’ and opened the door, absently tugging on your hair with your free hand. You poked your head in carefully.

“Hey, Leslie, they didn’t have chai, so I had to get you vanilla, I hope you don’t mind. If it’s an issue, I can run down to the corner store really quick.” You greeted, voice rough from how much you’d spoken that day. The three men in the room turned to you, all smiling. Anthony stood, opening the door for you fully. Daveed waved and smirked from his spot on the couch. Leslie was leaning on his vanity, smiling widely at you.

“It’s no issue, thank you, Y/N. Have you met Diggs? He was out sick yesterday when you were here.”

“Yessir, I have met Diggs. Though I’ve been bouncing around all damn day so I haven’t had a chance to properly speak to him.” You laughed, handing Leslie the tea and smiling at Anthony, who appeared to be struggling with his collar, which wouldn’t stay down.

“Anthony, do you need some help?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head slightly. He looked up and smiled brilliantly.

“Yes, please, actually. I can’t get it to stay down.”

You clicked your tongue, muttering under your breath as you reached a hand to your side, pulling a safety pin out of your jeans. You carefully stuck it in the fabric of Anthony’s coat, pinning it down.

“Alright. Anyone else need anything while I’m in here?” You asked, eyeing Daveed out of the corner of your eye. You noticed his eyes on your legs, moving around your body. He caught your eyes and you raised a brow.

“Coffee would be nice.” Daveed murmured, and you nodded.

“Any specifics on how to make it?”

“I like mine how Lin takes it.”

“Lin takes any kind of coffee I give him.” You snorted, tugging at your hair again as you left the room, sighing heavily.


The Next Day

You were helping one of the dancers through a run, copying his movements effortlessly.

“Y/N! Need you!” You heard Daveed call, and gave the dancer a sad look, jogging off to Daveed’s dressing room, knocking on the door and waiting for the signal to come in. You jumped as Lin opened the door, putting a hand over your heart.

“Jesus! Lin, you almost put me in cardiac arrest.” You scolded, furrowing your brows as you slipped in.

“Sorry, Y/N. I was just leaving.” He laughed, waving as he shut the door. You turned your head, spotting Daveed by his vanity. Your mouth ran dry. He was in a tight black t-shirt, one that outlined every single one of his muscles, and a pair of jeans that fit just right on his hipbones. You forced your eyes to his face, smiling.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with the Lafayette bun. I can’t seem to get it right today.”

“Uh, yeah, s-sure.” You stuttered, blushing bright red. You mentally cursed yourself, walking over and carefully pulling his hair up, forming it into the bun.

“You’re blushing. Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” He practically purred, and you flicked your eyes up to look at him in the mirror, still putting the hair tie around his hair.

“Yeah. Just a little warm in here.” You lied effortlessly, finishing the bun and smiling at him in the mirror.

“Need anything else?”

“The cast is going out tonight, Lin wanted me to see if you’d come. He had to run to set before he could ask himself.”

“He could’ve shot me a text. But yeah, I’ll come.” You murmured, pulling a pocket notebook out of your jeans and scribbling down your number, tearing it out and setting it on his vanity.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t have my number. Text me the location and dress code tonight, please.” You murmured, walking out of his dressing room.


You almost fell out of the shower trying to grab your phone in time to answer the incoming call. You stood, dripping on the floor, pressing the phone against your wet cheek.

Hey, it’s Daveed. I’ll come pick you up. Tell me your address and wear somethin’ nice, aight?” He greeted, and you made a humming sound.

“Will do. Uh, I live in the Deerfold Apartments on eleventh, number 112. I’ll have to buzz you in.” You answered, running a hand through your still soapy hair.

You sound out of breath. You feeling alright?

“I was in the shower when you called. Almost fell trying to answer.” You laughed, listening to his own warm laugh radiate through her speakers.

Alright, I’ll let you finish your shower. See you in about 30 minutes.” He said, and you hummed. The call ended. Or so you thought.

You put your phone down, stepping back in your shower. You went back to your singing, belting out the lyrics to old rock songs at the top of her lungs, running conditioner through your hair. You quickly washed your body and shaved, turning off your shower. You grabbed the towel you kept by, sighing at the puddle of water on the floor.

“Dear god that’s so much water.” You said to yourself, drying off quickly before putting the towel on the floor to soak up the water.

You pulled your hair into another towel, twisting it up and whistling as you stepped on the other towel, singing once again. You picked up your hairbrush and phone, starting on Lemonade, Beyonce’s new album. You picked up the towel and your dirty clothes, walking out to your bedroom, singing at the top of your lungs.

You can taste the dishonesty,
it’s all over your breath,
” You sang, tossing your phone on the bed. You continued singing, putting your dirty clothes and both towels in your hamper. You quickly brushed out your hair, accidentally tripping over a pile of clothes and letting out a loud string of curses. You heard quiet laughter, popping up and trying to find the source of the sound. You scrambled to your phone, finding that you were still in a call with Daveed.

“Diggs! Why didn’t you hang up?!” You exclaimed, turning bright red.

I heard you singing and wanted to stick around to see if you’d sing a song from the show.” You heard his familiar voice crackled through the phone.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned, knowing you’d never live this down.


You buzzed Daveed in, walking back to your bedroom and stepping into your dress, pulling it up. You struggled with the zipper, getting it up about halfway before you heard a knock on your door. You sighed, walking over to your door and opening it. You gave Daveed a slightly awkward smile.

“Can you zip me up, please? I can’t seem to get it.” You asked, and he laughed, nodding his head. You turned, holding in a shiver as his warm hands ran up your spine, zipping the dress. You felt his fingers lingering, brushing along the dragon tattoo at the base of your neck.

“Nice ink. Do you like dragons?”

“No, I hate them.” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and stepping into a pair of heels, grabbing your jacket and purse.

“Alright, let’s motor.” You smiled, spinning your keys around your finger. He nodded, stepping aside to let you out. You locked your apartment, linking your elbow with his and letting him escort you.


You laughed at the story Lin was telling the people at the table, sipping your wine. Daveed was digging into his steak, being quieter than usual. Anthony was on your other side, casually sipping his wine as well.

“Hey, D, you doing okay?” You asked, voice quiet. You glanced over at him, raising a brow. He smiled, nodding.

“I just can’t cut this damn steak.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and sipping your wine again. The waiter walked over, setting down a wine glass and a note in front of you. You raised your eyebrows. You glanced at the table, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you spoke.

“Oh, I didn’t order this, sir.” You said, smiling up at the waiter.

“It’s from the gentleman in the blue shirt at the bar.” The waiter smiled, and you nodded, looking at the glass of wine and flicking your eyes up to the guy at the bar, who smirked and waved at you. You opened the note, reading it and suppressing a disgusted face. You pulled your notebook and pen out of your bag, scribbling down a note back and chugging the wine. You handed the note and empty glass to the waiter, smiling.

“Tell him he has awful taste in wine, but thanks anyway.” You requested, and the waiter read your note and laughed, nodding his head.

“Yes, ma’am. You have a strong voice in your writing.” He commented, and you smirked.

“I’m aware. Thank you very much.”

You sipped your previous glass of wine, looking over at a call of your name.

“So, Y/N, what did blue shirt guy say in his note?” Lin asked, and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I should’ve known better than to think that would’ve gotten past you. I thought it would be a nice note, but it was vulgar as all hell.” You muttered, shaking your head and glaring at the note.

“What did you say back?” Renee laughed, and you shrugged, smirking.

“I said that he was a pussy for saying it in a note with wine instead of to my face, and if he really expected that to work or get him laid, then he was more idiotic than I thought at first glance.” You answered Lin, who snorted loudly, cackling.

“Wait, lemme see his note! Y/N, you gotta show me!”

“Lin, read it out to us!” Oak laughed, and Y/N giggled, passing the note to Lin. He cleared his throat, getting out his most dramatic voice.

Hey, I really like your dress. I think I’d like it better on my floor, though. I like your lips as well, and I sure would love to see them wrapped around my 11-inch cock, come take charge of me, honey, I can show you a good boy,” Lin read, and you listened to the table burst out into loud laughter. Anthony gave you a sympathetic look, and Daveed swallowed his piece of steak before speaking to her.

“Are you even into being the dominator, Y/N? I get a more vanilla vibe from you.”

You raised your brows at him, laughing softly.

“And I think that’s my cue, sorry, guys, I have to wake up early and run around all day tomorrow.” You spoke, avoiding the question as you slipped on your coat, digging your wallet out of your purse and handing Lin $20 dollars, paying for your food. You waved as you walked out, blowing a kiss at them.


You stretched up, grabbing a pack of powder creamer from the cabinet, dancing to the singing you heard from the stage. You stirred it into the cup of coffee that sat in front of you, singing along softly. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you felt a pair of hands on your hips.

“Did I scare you away last night, baby?” Daveed whispered in your ear, and you shivered.

“N-no, Daveed.” You replied, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“You gonna answer my question, baby girl?”

You had to forcibly suppress a moan, subconsciously grinding your ass against his crotch. He laughed quietly, pressing a small kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You released a shaky breath.

“I don’t like to dominate, I like being dominated.” You muttered, and he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise and draw a moan out of you.

“Can’t fuck you here, baby girl.” He murmured, and you whimpered.

“I’ll swing by your place later.” He murmured, and you nodded desperately, grinding against him once more before he pulled away, smirking at you as he walked away, leaving you panting and blushing at the counter.


You buzzed Daveed in, practically bouncing as you walked off to your bathroom, checking your appearance one more time, perfecting everything. You heard him knock, walking cautiously over to your door and opening it, stepping aside to let Daveed in.

“You can take your shoes off by the door, and, uh, hang your jacket on the free hook.” You greeted, blushing bright red.

“You’re cute when you blush, baby. If at any point you want me to stop, say ‘red’ okay?”

“Got it. Red. Okay.” You murmured, nodding. You blushed impossibly brighter when he grabbed your hips again, tugging you against his chest. He crashed his lips down onto yours and you moaned into his mouth, circling your arms around his neck and grinding yourself against him.

“Fuck, Daveed, bedroom.” You managed when you broke free, pointing to your bedroom door. He nodded, grabbing the undersides of your thighs and picking you up, walking toward your bedroom, leaving kisses on your neck. He tossed you on your bed, tugging his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He smirked at you.

“Take off your clothes and hold out your wrists, baby.”

You were quick to comply, pulling your clothes off in record time and holding out your wrists for him. You moaned a little when you saw he’d finished taking off his clothes while you were distracted with yours. He pulled his belt tight around your wrists.

You moaned when he trailed a hand down, running a finger along your slit. You tossed your head back, bucking your hips up when he pushed two fingers into you, curling them just right and rubbing your walls. Your mind went blank, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he thrust them in and out of you. He ducked his head down, sucking at your clit, drawing a damn near scream from you. You were impossibly close. Though, to be fair, you’d been close since he’d kissed you.

“Please, sir, please, let me,” You babbled, mindlessly begging.

“Can you take three, baby?”

“Yes, sir, please,” You moaned, arching your back up sharply when he pushed another finger into you, keeping you right on the edge. You started begging again, whimpering when he held your hips down with one of his hands, stopping you from moving.

“Cum.” He ordered, and you practically screamed his name as you obeyed, back arching, fingers reaching out in your bonds, mind going completely blank. Before you had time to recover completely, he was inside of you, hitting your g-spot immediately.

“Daveed!” You moaned, dragging out the syllables in his name. He wrapped a hand around your throat, biting hard into your shoulder as he pounded into you. You felt his other hand gripping your hip so hard that you knew you’d have his fingerprints branded onto you for weeks. You moaned again when he bit hard on your breast, then moved his hand and bit into your neck again.

“You’re mine now, baby girl, no one else can fuck you like this.” He growled into your ear.

“Yes, sir, yours.” You moaned back, gasping for breath as he slowed down, almost sobbing.

“Say it, baby. Who’s are you?”

“Yours, sir! Please!” You moaned, trying to buck up and get him to go faster again.

“Who’s?”

“Yours, Daveed! Fuck, please!” You sobbed, then felt him unbuckle the belt around your wrists, then start up again. You threw your head back once more, raking your nails up his back. You knew there would be marks the next morning from your nails, and that made you moan more, scratching up his back again, then burying your hands in his hair, pulling. He groaned, nodding his head.

“Good girl, Y/N, fuck. Cum for me, baby girl.” He groaned out, and you let your orgasm take over again, seeing stars. You felt him bite hard into your shoulder, possibly drawing blood, as he came. All the muscles in your body went slack, and you winced at the oversensitivity as he pulled out of you, taking the condom off and tying it, tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, smiling at you.

“Where’s your bathroom, baby, we need to clean you up.” He asked, voice soft. You groaned, lifting your arm and pointing to a door, sighing when he picked you up. He walked into your bathroom, making a pleased noise at the sight of your bathtub, setting you down on the counter and running you a bath.

“I’m tired, Daveed.” You muttered, whining as he picked you up again, sitting in the bath with you between his legs, leaning against his chest.

“I know, baby, let’s just get you cleaned up and then I can take you to bed, okay?”

“Mm, okay.” You murmured, letting him wash you off. You let your eyes slip shut as he shampooed and conditioned your hair, washing your body gently. You felt him moving around as he cleaned himself, then as he pulled the plug to drain the water. You felt him leave the tub, drying himself off, before picking you up and drying you off, carrying you to your bedroom. You sighed, tossing the towel around you into the hamper in your room before he laid you both down, pulling the blanket up to you and wrapping his arms around you.


“Hey, Y/N, what’s with the turtleneck? It’s super fuckin hot in here.” Anthony called, and you spun around, smiling at him.

“That is subjective, Ant. I think it’s really cold, actually.” You lied, shrugging. He raised an eyebrow.

“Or you got laid last night.”

You didn’t respond, the color draining out of your face.

“Holy shit! Guys! Y/N got dicked down!” Anthony shouted, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning.

“Yes, I did. Is there a reason why my sex life is so exciting to you, Ant?” You sighed, putting a hand on the hip that wasn’t bruised all to hell and glaring at him.

“Lemme see what the guy did, Y/N, I know you have a tank top under that damn turtleneck,” Anthony said, and you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Lin! Make Anthony go away!” You shouted, Lin looking over and laughing at the two of them.

“Do you even remember the guy’s name? Did you get his number? Are you gonna hit him up? I saw you walking weird earlier but I thought you just pulled a muscle, was he that good?” Anthony shot off, and you groaned, sighing.

“Hi, baby. He bothering you?” Daveed asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and gently pecking you.

“Holy shit.” You heard Lin say, then heard Anthony and Oak burst out in laughter.

“Jesus Christ, we knew you liked her! Lemme see what he did to you, you gotta show me now!” Ant cackled, and you made a grumbling noise, looking up at Daveed for permission. He gave a single nod, and you sighed, tugging your turtleneck off and allowing them to see the plethora of bruises on you. Including the scabbed over bite on your shoulder, claiming marks.

“Jesus Christ, Diggs, you don’t hold back.”

“He would’ve but I didn’t tell him to. Is your curiosity sated?” You snapped, glaring. Anthony and Oak held up their hands in mock surrender.

“Well, now we won’t have to ask why you’re walking funny.”

“Shut up.”

‘Parks and Recreation’: Leslie Knope Writes Letter to America Following Donald Trump’s Victory

Dear America,

Amidst the confusion, and despair, and disbelief, it was suggested to me by a very close friend of mine (I won’t say her name, to protect her identity) (Ann. It was Ann) that perhaps a few people would enjoy hearing my thoughts on this election. So I sat down at my computer, cleared my head, and opened a document. Then I started crying. So I had some hot chocolate, and my close friend (Ann) rubbed my back for a while, and I got myself together, and sat down. And started crying. Then more Ann comforting me, and more hot chocolate, and back and forth like that for about six hours or so, the chain of hot-chocolate-and-back-rubs only interrupted briefly when I had to run to the store for more hot chocolate packets (“Just give me all of them, all the boxes,” I remember saying, through tears, to a very scared stockroom boy) and now I am ready to go.

When I was in fourth grade, my teacher Mrs. Kolphner taught us a social studies lesson. The seventeen students in our class were introduced to two fictional candidates: a smart if slightly bookish-looking cartoon tortoise named Greenie, and a cool-looking jaguar named Speedy. Rick Dissellio read a speech from Speedy, in which he promised that if elected he would end school early, have extra recess, and provide endless lunches of chocolate pizzandy. (A local Pawnee delicacy at the time — deep fried pizza where the crust was candy bars.) Then I read a speech from Greenie, who promised to go slow and steady, think about the problems of our school, and try her best to solve them in a way that would benefit the most people. Then Mrs. Kolphner had us vote on who should be Class President.

I think you know where this is going.

Except you don’t, because before we voted, Greg Laresque asked if he could nominate a third candidate, and Mrs. Kolphner said “Sure! The essence of democracy is that everyone—” and Greg cut her off and said “I nominate a T. rex named Dr. Farts who wears sunglasses and plays the saxophone, and his plan is to fart as much as possible and eat all the teachers,” and everyone laughed, and before Mrs. Kolphner could blink, Dr. Farts the T. rex had been elected President of Pawnee Elementary School in a 1984 Reagan-esque landslide, with my one vote for Greenie the Tortoise playing the role of “Minnesota.”

After class I was inconsolable. Once all the other kids left, Mrs. Kolphner came over and put her arm around me. She told me I had done a great job advocating for Greenie the Tortoise. Through tears I remember saying, “How good, exactly?” and she said “Very very good,” and I said, “Good enough to—?” and she sighed and went to her desk to get one of the silver stars she gave out to kids who did a good job on something, and as I tearfully added it to my Silver Star Diary she asked me what upset me the most.

“Greenie was the better candidate,” I said. “Greenie should have won.”

She nodded.

“I suppose that was the point of the lesson,” I said.

“Oh no,” she said. “The point of the lesson is: people are unpredictable, and democracy is insane.”

Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except all those other forms that have been tried.” That is perhaps a pithier and better way to get my point across, than that long anecdote about Mrs. Kolphner. Should I just erase all of that and start with this? Whatever. I’m pot-committed now, and is there extra caffeine in that hot chocolate? Because my head feels like a spaceship. The point is: people making their own decisions is, on balance, better than an autocrat making decisions for them. It’s just that sometimes those decisions are bad, or self-defeating, or maddening, and a day where you get dressed up in your best victory pantsuit and spend an ungodly amount of money decorating your house with American flags and custom-made cardboard-cutouts of suffragettes in anticipation of a glass-ceiling-shattering historical milestone ends with you getting (metaphorically) eaten by a giant farting T. rex.

Like most people, I deal with tragedy by processing the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. My denial over the election results was intense. My anger was (in Ron’s words) “significant.” My bargaining was short, but creative — I offered my soul and the souls of all of my friends in exchange for 60,000 more votes in Milwaukee, to any demon who cared to accept. (Tom told me it was a terrible deal, but I didn’t care, in that moment.) My depression I have already mentioned. Which brings us to Acceptance.  And here’s what I stand on that:

No. I do not accept it.

I acknowledge that Donald Trump is the President. I understand, intellectually, that he won the election. But I do not accept that our country has descended into the hatred-swirled slop pile that he lives in. I reject out of hand the notion that we have thrown up our hands and succumbed to racism, xenophobia, misogyny, and crypto-fascism. I do not accept that. I reject that. I fight that. Today, and tomorrow, and every day until the next election, I reject and fight that story. I work hard and I form ideas and I meet and talk to other people who feel like me, and we sit down and drink hot chocolate (I have plenty) and we plan. We plan like mofos. We figure out how to fight back, and do good in this infuriating world that constantly wants to bend toward the bad. And we will be kind to each other, and supportive of each other’s ideas, and we will do literally anything but accept this as our fate.

And let me say something to the young girls who are reading this. Hi, girls. On behalf of the grown-ups of America who care about you and your futures, I am awfully sorry about how miserably we screwed this up. We elected a giant farting T. rex who does not like you, or care about you, or think about you, unless he is scanning your bodies with his creepy T. rex eyes, or trying to physically grab you like a toy his daddy got him (or would have, if his daddy had loved him). (Sorry, that was a low blow.) (Actually, not sorry, I’m pissed, and I’m on a roll, so zip it, super-ego!) Our President-Elect is everything you should abhor, and fear, in a male role model. He has spent his life telling you, and girls and women like you, that your lives are valueless except as sexual objects. He has demeaned you, and belittled you, and put you in a little box to be looked at and not heard. It is your job, and the job of girls and women like you, to bust out.

You are going to run this country, and this world, very soon. So you will not listen to this man, or the 75-year-old, doughy-faced, gray-haired nightmare men like him, when they try to tell you where to stand or how to behave or what you can and cannot do with your own bodies, or what you should or should not think with your own minds. You will not be cowed or discouraged by his stream of retrogressive babble. You won’t have time to be cowed, because you will be too busy working and learning and communing with other girls and women like you, and when the time comes you will effortlessly flick away his miserable, petty misogynistic worldview like a fly on your picnic potato salad.

He is the present, sadly, but he is not the future. You are the future. Your strength is a million times his. Your power is a billion times his. We will acknowledge this result, but we will not accept it. We will overcome it, and we will defeat it.

Now find your team, and get to work.

Love,

Leslie

How Mary Morstan destroyed the moral centre of BBC Sherlock

So let me just start by saying that no one wants two-dimensional, black-and-white characters. Flawed people are normal, believable, more interesting, more relatable. That’s all fine. What the first two series of Sherlock gave us was:

1. Sherlock Holmes: A self-appointed detective, occasional (mostly past, seemingly) drug user who solves crimes as a puzzle to keep his overactive mind occupied. Rude to people, a trait born more out of impatience to get on with saving lives without being hampered by other people’s relative slowness, and possible also because he falls somewhere on the autism spectrum and struggles with social skills. Tries to believe that he is cold, emotionless, but the opposite is palpably true: his facial reaction when Moriarty destroys the old woman in The Great Game. This line: “This hospital’s full of people dying, Doctor. Why don’t you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?” (Read: wasting time wringing our hands won’t save this person’s life.) This exchange:

John: Charming. Well done. 
Sherlock: Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder? (Read: He attempts to be kind, successful or otherwise.

Sherlock’s face when he sees John wearing the bomb jacket in The Great Game. Sherlock admitting his fear in The Hound of the Baskervilles. Sherlock showing compassion by rescuing Irene in A Scandal in Belgravia. Sherlock’s tear as he was saying goodbye to John in The Reichenbach Fall. These two series are full of evidence that Sherlock absolutely does care about people, so much so that his brother reminds him to be wary of sentiment as though it’s an old refrain, routinely repeated. And the final touch: “I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.” That’s it in a nutshell: Sherlock is no angel – but he is indubitably on their side. He solves crimes. He stops criminals from their actions. He saves lives. He is, despite his surface rudeness, a good person.

2. John Watson: An ex-army captain and doctor with an appetite for adrenaline, an inability to settle into civilian life, post-traumatic shock nightmares, and a dangerous violent streak. A man with a “strong moral centre” who waits until he believes it absolutely necessary to kill, then does it cleanly, quickly, humanely when he thinks he must. John is such an interesting mix. In one way of looking at it, there’s a lot more dark in him than there is in Sherlock. Something obviously went wrong in his family, too, as not one of his immediate family attended his wedding. There’s some resentment there, some thirst to prove his worth – and a corresponding hyper-willingness to assume that people doubt it, that people place blame on him, that they find him wanting in some way. Trust issues, indeed.

And yet he’s the one who’s mindful of when Sherlock is stepping on toes and hurting feelings, the first to pull him into line, to make sure he doesn’t go too far. They’re such a good team this way: John came back from the war with a hand tremor that made it impossible for him to practise medicine and a psychosomatic limp and blasted-up shoulder that made it impossible for him to be the “war hero” Sherlock describes him as during their first cab ride. They fit each other perfectly: Sherlock gives John a safe outlet to let out his demons and channel them into being a hero again, cures him of his impediments almost just by believing him unshakably, always, without one shred of doubt, no matter what his sharp-edged humour might suggest, even giving him back the ability to practise medicine again, and in turn John provides Sherlock with equanimity: someone to come home to, eat with, be normal with, someone who will save him from going too far either verbally or into the deeps to search out a criminal there, who will follow him down and shoot the criminals off his back. They save each other. They do good work: they’re good people.

And then series 3 gave us Mary. Mary the former secret agent gone rogue, Mary who kills for the highest bidder (confirmed in The Six Thatchers), Mary who scales a building pregnant to intimidate or kill a man who is blackmailing her. Mary who shoots a friend in the heart rather than accept his help and request his secrecy, or his help in breaking the truth to John. Mary the pathological liar, who layers lie upon lie upon lie, and feels that she should never have to apologise for anything, including all of these lies. Mary, who got snippy and resentful over John’s “months of silence” after she tried to murder his best friend, as though he had no right to his anger. Mary, who denied John the right to have a say in naming his own child after she put him through all of that. Mary, who would rather drug her friend and abandon her family rather than accept help. Mary, who abandoned her team without confirming that they were beyond rescue and started a new life with a marriage and a baby and not a second thought for the people she’d left behind. Mary, who never for a second left her profession, keeping her guns and her outfits and her secret info stashed in random walls in Norway, her vast collection of wigs and offensive accents.

This might have worked if the show had seen her arc through as the villain she clearly was. Mary was decidedly NOT on the “side of the angels”. Mary was not saving lives. Mary was taking them. Mary was a person whose life choices, past and present, clearly put her on the other side from Sherlock and John – two flawed, yet ultimately good men who do good work. Mary’s work was, in a word, bad. She was the opposite, really: an inherently bad person with a cute façade, who could giggle and make little jokes (that frequently had a sting buried within), who could roll up her pants instead of just getting them hemmed, who could tease and banter, but as soon as the pressure came back on, her real self came out again. The old habits came back: drug a friend, shoot them in the heart, run away without looking back, kill anyone who gets in your way. The fact is that the show did NOT see this arc through. The writers tried to spoon-feed us the façade, and it didn’t work, because the truth was so very visible: Mary was not a good person, and trying to pretend that she was is either completely unbelievable, or else destroys the entire point of who Sherlock and John are, in their essence. To have them take Mary on board without question, without her actual redemption by having felt or demonstrated remorse of any kind at any point for any of the very many terrible things she did, does not work! This is tantamount to Sherlock and John teaming up with Moriarty! Even if they’d needed information from Moriarty or something, it would have been a necessarily temporary arrangement, because they are not on the same team and never have been!

So, tl;dr version: we want characters who are nuanced, who have grey area, who are three-dimensional: but not characters who betray their own moral code by associating themselves willingly with someone they would normally oppose with all of their combined might. Writing their acceptance of Mary Morstan destroyed their moral centre. In a way, it made them no better than she was, and we know from the first two series that this just isn’t who Sherlock and John are. They’re good people. Mary wasn’t.

anonymous asked:

I don't know why ur actin up for attention. You're okay as a writer, but there are much better ones in the fandom who have far less recognition

You see. It all started when father returned from the war. He had never been an affectionate man, as much as I can recall. But after the war, the small nods and brief glances from him that I had grown to look forward to had disappeared.

He was quick to anger and quicker to drink. Sometimes I’d awaken in the middle of the night to find him standing in the middle of the quiet farm, bathed in moonlight and despondent. His eyes would be fixated on the moon and stars, unblinking.

“Papa,” I’d call to him, “you’re scaring me…”

Of course, he didn’t respond. He never did. Somehow, his silence instilled more fear than his anger. The eerie quiet when I wished so badly to know what he was imagining.

The chores on the farm soon fell on my shoulders, as my mother came down with a chest cold that never seemed to go away. Some days were worse than others for her. I remember running to fetch the doctor in the middle of the night when she couldn’t keep from coughing. Walking through the old wooden thresh hold he greeted my father, who sat unblinking once again in his rocker with the usual bottle of liquor in his calloused hand. The light from the candles flickered, showing glimpses of his eyes which were wide with madness.

Seeing now the state he was in, the doctor simply tipped his cap and tended to my ailing mother. And soon after that, the talk around town began. Not so quiet whispers accompanied by piercing eyes when I made my way into town to fetch mothers tonic or liquor for papa.

My trips became less and less frequent. Not only because I couldn’t handle the gossip, but it seemed papa would do something drastic every time I left. One day I found him in the coop snapping the necks of the chickens inside, feathers flying everywhere as the few remaining tried to escape his grasp.

“Papa! No!” I screamed for him to stop.

He dropped to his knees with shaking hands. It was the first time he had spoken to me in what seemed like years. His voice was more hoarse than I remembered.

“I’m…sorry,” he spoke through tears.

Heavy with the shame of what he had done, he dragged himself off as I took care of the mess and contemplated how we would get our eggs now. I didn’t see papa again until that night. He came stumbling inside near dawn, crashing around our old farm house in his usual drunken stuper and calling for my grandmother, who had passed some time ago.

Why am I seeking attention? Who knows…but reading this message I think back to those chickens and their snapped necks. Who can say why, but perhaps I am jealous of them a bit. For at least, even in a brief moment before their deaths, they felt my fathers touch. Something I never had.

“Much better writers with far less recognition?” I chuckled and inched closer to you.

When the fandom approached me, asking me to hand-choose which followers went to which blogs I was shocked, but proudly took on the task. Just as I had taken on the burden of my families farm, I would also carry out this task to the best of my ability.

I moved my lips closer to your ear, letting them ghost over the skin as my fingers delicately tucked your hair to the side. My warm breath was seeping into your pores as you waited for me to respond.

“I know,” I whispered so softly, “now unfollow me, bitch.”

Shit I Pulled In High School

So my friend and I got talking about the good old days and it hit me that I’ve probably got some mildly entertaining tales from my teenage years ( which only ended four years ago I can’t believe I made it to 23 )

So here’s a few of the shenanigans Hot Mess High School Me got into ~

( I went to a weird school that threw grades 7 -12 together in the same buildings so this is at the same school the whole time just not divided into middle school and high school )


7th Grade

- Made the art teacher gasp because I knew a surprising amount about Medieval art styles ( I’m obsessed with history and the Medieval era is just such a hot mess of a time)

- Got scolded in Math class for reading , learned to read more stealthily

- Memorized the coded language from ’ Vladimir Todd ’ , a popular teen book series about a sarcastic teenage vampire who just wants to be normal, and used it to write notes in class


Eventually this resulted in my getting sent to the counselor because the teacher suspected me of being a cult leader

I ran with that assumption and to this day the school still thinks I founded the cult of Vladimirism , a cult devoted to the protection and support of rebellious teen outcasts , queer kids , and unfairly treated main characters ( we’re a small cult but we are very nice and membership is free , we spread love and rebellion , our mascot is a baby bat )

- Started a week long debate on sexism in history class with my teacher , which resulted in him actually awarding the most fervent arguers a free soda

Turned out it was just a scam of his to see how many of us were actually morally upstanding , and which ones were rooted deep in the patriarchal bullshit .

I got a soda AND a candy bar because I kicked off the debate by asking

“ We talk a lot about oppressed groups but we haven’t talked about women yet, do you think women aren’t oppressed?”

Which got a sexist boy in back to go “ Women don’t count ”

And I snapped back “ Women can count higher than YOU”


8th Grade

- Caused an ethical , moral, and spiritual debate in my Seminary class over abortion that ended with three girls declaring themselves Athiests


- Accused my Seminary Teacher of racism and sexism for his assumption that God is white and male

- Got kicked out of Seminary for arguing with the teacher about God hating gay people , and instead of going back in after ten minutes I just left and went to my friend’s house

- Called out my chemistry teacher for overlooking the accomplishments of women in the scientific fields


- Accidentally became a student librarian because I spent so much time there and I memorized the book keeping system

- Was officially the most well-read student and got an award for checking out over thirty books in a month

9th Grade

- Got suspended because a teacher heard me singing P!nk’s “ Fun House ” and thought the lyric ’ burn this sucker down’ was a threat of arson so I got to meet the Sheriff ( who incidentally was the father of one of my classmates and who still invited me to his daughter’s birthday party the next week ) and even though Sheriff Brooks was intimidating I cry REALLY easily so I got off with a warning despite me never remotely intending to burn my school down

I got suspended for a week but it was actually fine , and the Sheriff was super chill to me after that


- Was extra enough to get voted Most Dramatic in the yearbook

Was it because I frequently flopped down on the floor to nap if I was tired?

Or was it my complete overreaction to anything unexpected?

Maybe it was my scathing remarks to everything

’ Do you want to be study buddies’

’ Brittany, why would I want to study with someone with can’t spell their name right ’


Or my dramatic reactions to anything even slightly inconvient

’ THE HEAVENS ARE DISPLEASED WITH YOU MERE MORTALS, THEY WEEP AT YOUR FAILURES “

’ It’s just raining calm down ’

’ dude I’m more concerned about the fact she referred to US as mortals but not her? ’


’ Aw man , the cafeteria is out of pudding cups ’

” THE FIRST PLAGUE BEGINS , WE WERE WARNED OF THIS IN THE PROPHECY “

” What? What prophecy? “

10th Grade

- Got caught writing fan fiction in class but didn’t get in trouble because my teacher was a hardcore Harry Potter fan and he just wanted to read the story
( it was a Weasley Twins Deathly Hallows AU and I’ll post it on ao3 if you wantttt)

- Skipped school like six times to watch Inuyasha with my friend Melanie ( I faked being sick and just went to her house instead of going home)


- Became the school’s top badass because I stealthily orchestrated the expulsion of every kid who bullied me or my siblings and never got caught

( hey Ashley Bassett if you’re reading this I snitched on you , and I don’t regret it )

11th Grade
- Planned a prank that scared my U.S.Marine drama coach so much he almost called in reinforcements

I got my whole Drama class to fake a murder scene in the auditorium because Tony ( our coach) said we didn’t act dead convincingly .

So we faked a Sweeney Todd worthy slaughter fest , making it appear as though thirty teens were brutally murdered .

It was GLORIOUS. My friend Indi runs out into the hall , knowing Tony is just entering the building , and he first thing Tony sees is an apparently mortally wounded kid running toward him, gasping out last words.

’ They…got …us …They got all of us….run….SAVE YOURSELF ”

And then Indi collapses right there , looking for all the world like he’s dead , and poor Tony just panics and burst into the auditorium , flips the lights on, and screams

We listen to him freak out for a minute, but as he pulls out his phone to call the cops , Indi sneaks up behind him and taps his shoulder and goes “ Was that convincing enough, Tony? ”

Tony about fainted

12th Grade

- Snuck the name Sasuke Uchiha into every assignment


- Turned Naruto Running into a thing at my school


- Caused an existential crisis for my English teacher by suggesting that everything we experience could be fictional and we could be fictional characters unaware we don’t exist , and that death is simply someone finishing our book , but there’s no way to probe or disprove this theory because this reality (?) is all we know


- secretly wrote cryptic riddles in my school books for the next student to find


- The words ’ Bankai’, ’ Hollow’ and ’ soul reaper’ got banned in class because teachers thought it was a cult thing and none of us discouraged that thought

A temp I barely knew was actively trying to get me fired behind my back.

This happened a while ago but decided to post today as she rang a member of the office and used the threat of unfair dismissal claim if she wasn’t given a good reference. Not sure if it belongs in here or not.

TL:DR An office temp I’d spoken to a handful of times conspires to have me fired without my knowledge. It’s a very long story so be warned it’s a bit of a vent.

So, we had a temp covering maternity leave that turned out to be a bit of a nutjob. She was EA to Deputy CEO and seemed to think this gave her some sort of status. We’ll call her the temp. I’d spoken to her twice maybe three and was incredibly nice; I make it my business to be nice to everyone. What she didn’t know is that from about a week after she started I knew she was sending daily complaints (all unfounded and untrue) to my manager about me. My manager and I get on socially and professionally and he was dumbfounded by her doing this. I still have no idea, why she did it to me either and until today I’d put her out of my mind.

We are talking 3 or 4 complaints a day and asking for stuff to be taken further and why wasn’t I getting warned/reprimanded, whatever?

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Sterek A-Z Challenge: one word prompts

Week 15: O - Oops

The bell over the coffee shop door announced Derek’s arrival with a merry jingle a little after 11 in the evening. Derek shuffled the strap of his messenger bag higher on his shoulder and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket.

The shop was almost empty at that hour. Only a few students writing their first papers of the new term and a couple of regular night owls were scattered through the shop. His usual seat in the far corner, where he could sit with his back against the wall and keep watch, was open.

Derek dropped his bag on the small table and shrugged his jacket off to drape over the back of his claimed seat. The young woman at the register was new, which could be potentially problematic. Derek didn’t recognize her, but she smiled cheerfully when he approached.

“What can I get you?” she chirped. Her heartbeat fluttered nervously as her scent sweetened with clear want. Definitely problematic.

Derek paused a moment. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He wasn’t sure his drink had a name.

“Oh, well, we have different speciality coffees and teas,” the barista said and gestured to the menu board behind her. “If you want something-”

“I got this!” Stiles slid out of the back room, arms flailing to keep his balance. “Yo,” he said, greeting Derek with a lazy salute, and Derek snorted. His roommate was ridiculous. “Super awesome Stilinski special as dark as your soul, coming right up.”

“Right,” Derek said, gravitating down the bar towards Stiles. “No cinnamon this time.”

“Sure thing.” Stiles flipped a large paper cup into the air and fumbled to catch it, which made Derek chuckle.

When Stiles called him earlier that year, it had been a bit of a shock. Derek had been living in a cabin upstate that he and Laura had bought years ago. He had finally achieved vengeance for his family when he ripped out Kate’s throat and burned her body deep in the woods, but Beacon Hills wasn’t home anymore, so he hadn’t gone back. Now he wished he had.

At first, Derek hadn’t been sure the small voice on the other end of the phone had actually been Stiles, and not something trying to lure him back to Beacon Hills because the Stiles on the other end of the line had been quiet, almost hesitant, and unsure. As if Stiles hadn’t believed he deserved Derek’s help. Definitely not at all the hyperactive, chatterbox he had left behind. They both carried heavy scars, but that was fine.

Before Derek knew it, he had a new roommate and was driving across the country to pick Stiles up the day he got his diploma. Stiles hadn’t been home since, and the Sheriff was worried.

The barista asked Derek what the drink was so she could ring it up as Stiles ducked out of sight to retrieve milk out of the fridge below the counter.

“I don’t know,” Derek said again. “Something chocolate?”

Derek always had the same drink whenever he came in, but he didn’t know what it was because Stiles had never told him. It probably didn’t have a name. The first time he picked Stiles up, Stiles had whipped something up and shoved it into his hands.

Stiles’ head popped back up over the espresso bar. The steamer hissed to life, and Stiles laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. It’s on me,” he said and winked at Derek.

Derek hadn’t paid for a drink yet.

The drink Stiles handed off to Derek smelled overly sweet and chocolatey, and was piled so high with whipped cream drizzled with chocolate and caramel that the topping threatened to spill over. He wasn’t sure how Stiles knew about his sweet tooth, but he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Here ya go, big guy,” Stiles said and grinned. “Extra sweet and fluffy. Just like you.”

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lost control (m)

Originally posted by rapdaegu

pairing: kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings: semi-crack, smut, sub! jin
words: 8,872
summary: you’ve always wondered what it would feel like to take control in the bedroom for once and Seokjin’s more than happy to let you do as you please…

a/n: I don’t even know what this is lmao. A mixture of comedy and smut, so I have fun !! Oh, and if you see the word mommy somewhere, don’t be alarmed, there is no kink of that name in this house !!!! Ooo and also, my anniversary has just past—I started this tumblr with a Seokjin fic so it’s only fair I write one to celebrate ONE whole year!! Love you guys, thank you so much for reading!!

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Humans Are Weird - Prosthetics

So, I’ve just binged on a bunch of “Humans are Weird”/”Space Australia” posts and I’ve absolutely fallen in love with the ideas and the concepts, and I figured I’d toss my hat into the ring with something I haven’t seen much (if any) of - Humans with physical disabilities. I’m of the thought that some aliens are like starfish, and can just regrow their limbs after a period of time if lost, and other aliens will retire their crippled to more ‘homely duties’ with assistance by other aliens, or that some aliens will be rid of their crippled in search of a physically strong race.

—–

Zan’via had dealt with humans on their travels before, having even crewed on a few ships with small teams of humans on a few missions. And they could say that they were impressed: while a lot of the stories they had heard were true, there were many more things that he had not heard of but had seen that had left him thoroughly surprised and, in some cases, even somewhat scared.

They never expected to encounter anything like this.

To be fair, all the captain had asked of Zan’via to do was to go retrieve the ship’s head of security (a human that all of the crew referred to as ‘Chief’) for a pre-landing brief. And the Chief’s door was open upon reaching his berthing, so Zan’via didn’t feel the need to knock.

Finding the human with only their underclothes on wasn’t what shocked Zan’via. Seeing half of the human’s left leg on the desk across the room was.

“Christ mate, you should’ve knocked.” The human said with a breath of relief, having been caught by surprise by Zan’via.

“I apologise, Chief, I forgot that your species has reservations about being seen in a state of undress.” Zan’via responded, their eyes still fixed on the limb still resting on the desk top. The human noted this and sighed, reaching over to grab the leg and get it ready to attach onto his body.

“So, what’s up?” ‘Chief’ asked nonchalantly as he undid a few clips on the metal plate just below his knee and started lining up the connectors on the prosthetic limb with the plate.

“The captain has requested your presence on the bridge… what are you doing with your limb?”

“Just putting my leg on for the day.”

“I was not aware that your species had removable limbs…”

“Oh, we don’t. This is a replacement for the one I lost a number of years back.”

“But it looks artificial. I remember reading that humans can survive a number of injuries and heal back remarkably well.” To this, Chief laughed.

“Mate, there’s a difference between recovering from a few broken ribs and a large penetrating wound, and having your leg completely severed from just below the knee. Our bones can reform from breaks and fractures, our skin can seal back up, and some of our organs can and will grow back if we lose parts of them, but we cannot regenerate a large part of our body after an injury like that. And after decades of leaving people crippled after an accident or a defect leaves a person without an arm, or a leg, or a hand, we developed technology that allowed those people to regain their lost ability.” Chief finished clipping his leg on and rotated his ankle around to test functionality. “At first it was just to help people walk and move around, but as time went on, our prosthetic technology advanced to the point where we can replace entire organs without any loss in functionality. Hell, some of the replacement parts we’ve made can even exceed what the human body can do naturally.”

“But why?” Zan’via was still having trouble comprehending exactly why humans would want to do such a thing. Chief shook his head and stood up, beginning to put on the rest of his duty uniform.

“Because we believe that everyone should have the best quality of life, regardless of their circumstances. Just because you don’t have an arm doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to write or fly. Just because you don’t have a leg doesn’t mean you can’t run or jump or dance. Some people lose their limbs in accidents and find life afterwards hard because they can’t do things they once did beforehand. Others are born missing limbs, and never get the chance to do things ‘normal’ people can do. If we can provide a chance for them to live life like the rest of us, then why not?”

“I think I understand… somewhat.” Zan’via’s eyes then locked back onto the now-covered leg, then back up to the Chief’s face. The human could see what his companion wanted to ask next.

“Vee-Bee-Ess-Ess gone wrong, about six years ago. I slipped off a walkway on a Torian cargo vessle and my leg caught between a support beam and a storage container. Combat Medics had to sever my leg to free me. I was in hospital for a couple of months for healing and installation of the neural interface that allows me to move my leg the way I do, then another seven months in rehabilitation to learn how to walk again.” Chief then lifted his leg and rotated his ankle, then set it down and jumped and twisted around. Zan’via watched and just from observing, they could not see any major signs that the human was any different from any normal human. “Now I’m good as new, and have been kicking ass since.”

“I can see.” Zan’via backed up and let the chief pass them through the doorway as the pair made their way to the bridge. “Does it hurt?”

“The pain never really goes away, to be honest. Sometimes it feels like I’ve still got my old leg there, even when the new one isn’t attached. ‘Phantom Limb Syndrome’, they call it. But I manage, I’ve done so for six years so far.” The human then looked to Zan’via, and they could see the glint of determination in the human’s eyes. “If keeping my job and doing what I love meant that I had to have all my limbs fully replaced, then I’d do so in a heartbeat. Nothing can stop a human from a goal, nothing but death.”

Zan’via stood in place as the human continued on towards the bridge, dwelling over what the human had told them. The next chance they got, they would write it down into the ‘notes’ section of the manual in regards to humans.

Vee-Bee-Ess-Ess = VBSS = Visit, Board, Search and Seizure

Do Kyungsoo//Denouement

Originally posted by smileysoo

Summary: The world is black and white to everyone. At least, until they reach 18, and realise who their soulmate is or meet them for the first time - and then colour will burst into their life, one shade at a time. You’ve been desperate to graduate high school and move away, but you can’t run from fate. - ft. big brother Yixing 
Scenario: Soulmate!au 
Word Count: 5,977

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