none of these make sense really

Easter whispers too well. I hate having to strain to hear what she says. Josh whispers loudly but in that nasty wet way where none of the words even make sense because it’s just sloppy spit noises. I really need subtitles/closed captioning for the feeds.

More Humans are Weird

Because this hash tag is SO FUN and thought-provoking. 

GENDER: 
No one can keep up with humans and gender. There are no easy signs to tell who is what, not clothing, not body morphology, not how they paint themselves or their grooming or vestigal hair. The humans themselves argue about how many genders there are. Eventually they quit trying and refer to all humans as ‘they’. Most humans are fine with that, even compliment them on their support (?) and progressive views (??). A few humans are offended, but are shouted down by their other humans. The other beings of the galaxy officially give up. 

SEX: 
Some humans want to have sex all the time. Others barely can stand to be touched at all, even casually. Some will have sex with their own gender, which does not produce offspring and is confusing to many. Some will have sex only with certain people, some will have sex with anyone. SOME will have sex with other species, occasionally challenging their own safety and everyone else’s. None of this is considered strange. Anyone saying it is strange is again shouted down and shamed into silence. The other beings of the galaxy officially give up. 

CATS: 
Humans adopt small predators as pets and kiss their “widdle faces” and giggle over their clawed toes (???) and fuss and are thrilled when the predators sleep with them (isn’t that UNSAFE? IT IS FULL OF POINTY BITS) and often sport scratches and bite marks inflicted when the animal was ‘playing’. 
“When were these ‘cats’ domesticated?”
“Oh, we never really domesticated them. We just let them move into the house with us. Aren’t they CUUUUUTE? Come here, baby.” -kissy noises-
The other beings of the galaxy again give up. 

RELIGION: 
Wars fought. Millions - probably billions, through history - killed. Crew members huffy with each other. Various holidays celebrated, none of which make sense, some of them celebrating events that are physically impossible and could not have happened. All for something that can’t be proved. 
The other beings of the galaxy would think this was all an elaborate prank if it wasn’t for the body count. 

GERMS: 
Humans get INFECTED and act as if it is a personal affront, and cuss about it. They confine themselves to quarters so they don’t infect the rest of the crew - very kind, in that respect - and otherwise wrap themselves in bedding and bitch about it for three days while doing their work by remote - “It’s fine, just a cold.” followed by horrifying noises they call ‘coughing’ and ‘sneezing’ -  and HOW. HOW DO THEY EVEN. 
The other beings of the galaxy, for whom infection is always life-threatening, boggle from a safe distance. With respirators on. 

ALPHA PREDATOR…? 
They come from a death planet, these naked apes with no armor, no fangs, no speed. They have the ability to conquer the galaxy, if they only agreed with each other long enough that it was their goal. Instead they poke their noses into other death worlds, ‘exploring’, they call it, adopting horrifying creatures and making friends with other predatory beings, brewing poisonous beverages from whatever they can scrounge, which they then drink for fun. The rest of the galaxy is relieved. If humans had an attention span, they would truly be in trouble. 

No one wants to know what a ‘shark’ is. Humans seem to be afraid of them, and if it frightens the humans, the rest of the galaxy is, to a being, terrified. 

Zircon isn’t getting the credit she deserves. It must take a really good lawyer to get saddled with an impossible case and still push to win the case anyway.

She manages to lead to a possible conclusion under credible circumstances.

She got this information from actually listening to her client, and realized none of it made sense. Knowing what we know now, it doesn’t make sense, and Zircon realized it was the reason why the Diamonds chose for a trial instead of instantly shattering Steven..

Better yet, when those circumstances led to suspected high treason from her boss/leader/judge/RULER, Zircon straights up accuses instinctively. 

She was immediately poofed for her heat of the moment action, but that takes a lot of guts for her to even think of doing it.

Zircon is a beast in the courtroom. I can’t wait to see her again.

I don’t think people understand why we’re collectively angry about the way joseph’s route went. Honestly, it would have been nice for an actual christian whose an authority of the church to come to grips with his sexuality and decide that yeah that’s ok and that he can still be a christian regardless. 

Also, none of the twists make sense narrative wise. Up to this point, we’ve been lead to believe that Mary is not only a neglectful drunk but is also a cheater (while not physically cheating flirting with anyone is still considered a form of cheating my dudes). So, why would you paint her as the victim in the end. 

This trope has been played here and back and it’s not only boring, but it makes no sense for the character to be this way. You can say “Oh you’re taking this too personally”, well damn right I am and here’s why:

1) The way Mary was initially depicted reminded me quite a bit of my mother. Someone who cheats on her marriage without any regards to how her family might feel and seems to be very distant and emotionally cold to them. Do you know how rare it is to see a woman like that depicted in a negative light. Call it me projecting my anger, but I was looking forward to a woman like this getting her comeuppance when women actually being abusive and manipulative is so often glossed over and they so often get away with it. I wanted this to be a thing for once

2) I’m so tired of seeing the “wow you thought this person was actually nice lol we’ll show you. That’s what you get for trusting people” trope played to death. This twist came out of left field. It’s also majorly ooc for a guy we seen had been absolutely adoring and caring of his family and patient with his wife. 

3) This is fairly damaging to people like me who grew up in a conservative household with a mostly religious family who were of course kind of homophobic. I thought it would be nice to see representation of a religious man whose lgbt and still decides that he can be lgbt and still be religious. Do you realize how impactful that would have been.

But no instead of a positive narrative about a kind and cool youth minister whose coming to grips with years of internalized homophobia and learning to slowly accept himself and work through realizing that yeah his family is not perfect and he needs to go after what’s best for him and his kids we got whatever this was. But yeah sure judge us for flipping our shit over this crappy twist and all the implications it holds.

“Platonic” Bed-sharing: A Snowbaz Fic

In which there is much Snowbaz fluff. 

Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Rainbow Rowell!


“Snow. No”

“Snow yes!”

Simon Snow is a complete nitwit. Baz thought.

The two boys were at a standoff. Baz always knew that Simon was plagued with nightmares. Some nights the sound of the curly-haired angel of a boy would keep him up until faint streaks of sunlight drifted through their bedroom door. He had never gone off in his sleep though. This was certainly new.

“Please Baz! My spine is too fucking boney to sleep on the ground. Do you want me to be miserable all night?” He was pleading now, his blue eyes wide, accentuating his freckles.

He was standing there in their chamber looking like an innocent child in a too-tall body. He was hugging a spare blankets and a pillow to his chest. His lanky, skinny limbs looked even skinnier in his baggy Watford pajamas. All his scone eating hadn’t done anything to increase his weight. Must be the pressure of seventh year getting to him.

“As a matter of fact, yes I do want that.” Yes, get bruises all over your perfect back you idiot. That’s what you get for being so attractive.

“If you don’t share your bed I’ll make sure you’re miserable all night too!”

It was a measly threat to Baz. He was already miserable enough every night to have the Mage’s Heir tormenting him through his presence every day and night. He rolled his eyes and smoothed out a single wrinkle in his bedsheets.

“Don’t ignore me! It’s just for one night. I won’t even touch you, I promise.”

Baz fluffed up his pillow. He could physically feel Simon’s glares.

“Come on man! S’not my fault Watford doesn’t have any spare beds lying around!” There was an intoxicating electric tingle to the air. Simon was getting too worked up about this. “If I have to sleep on the ground because of you I will go off on your bed and we’ll both be cold and sore from sleeping on the fucking stone floor.”

That was certainly a threat Simon could get away with doing, despite the anathema. Damn him. Baz thought.

“Okay. Fucking fine!” It came out more harshly than Baz intended.

Simon took a step back, the threads of his magic retreating immediately. It was certainly frightening how closely tied Simon’s magic was to his emotions.

“Thanks. I promise. This is just for tonight. I’ll build a spare bed myself if it means I don’t have to sleep with you.”

Baz snorted. Simon. Building something. Now that would be something. He sighed in annoyance as he realized sharing a bed with Simon would make it extremely difficult to sneak of to drink tonight.

“I’m going to change into my nightclothes. Make yourself at home, Snow.” He said sarcasm dripping from his voice like water from a leaky faucet.

Simon nodded. He looked exhausted.

Baz went to change his clothes in the bathroom. He stared at his own grey eyes in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and if he had more blood in him, he would probably would look flushed. He felt a surge of nervousness and anticipation.

Sharing a bed with Simon Snow. Simon fucking Snow. How on bloody earth am I supposed to not kiss the moles on his neck if he is bloody next to me?

This would certainly be a long night.

Emerging from the bathroom, Baz saw Simon fixing up a sheet to work as a divider in the middle of their already small twin bed.

“What the fuck are you doing Snow?” Baz asked incredulously.

“I thought it’d be more comfortable if there was a like… physical barrier between us.”

“Whatever floats your boat you nitwit.”

Baz carefully folded his Watford sweater, placing it in a drawer, and hung up his trousers. Then he stood by his bed, eyeing a reclining Simon.

“I promise I won’t bite or go off on you tonight Baz. And don’t even think about doing anything to me. Anathema, remember.”

Baz rolled his eyes and climbed into bed. He laid on his side, facing away from the boy he wanted to kiss ever since they met. Simon had already turned out the light. It was just the two of them now. Lying side by side. Lit by moonlight.

This would be incredibly romantic if were an entirely different pair of boys. And both gay.  Baz thought.

He heard Simon sigh. He could feel heat radiating of him in waves. He was so hot. Baz didn’t understand why Simon even bothered to use a blanket. He was already a walking furnace. In more ways than one. Baz swallowed, bit his tongue and did his best to repress the urge to turn and kiss the living hell out of Simon.

Moments passed in silence. Simon’s breath faded into a rhythm. But it wasn’t how he sounded when he was sleeping. More like he was relaxed.

Baz was not relaxed. It felt like every atom of his undead existence was on edge. He was going to have to spend at least eight hours lying like this with the boy he loved and wanted most lying next to him. This was all a terrible mistake.

A gentle touch and a whispered “Baz!” made his entire body flinch. The hand immediately retreated and Baz immediately wished it back.

“Blimey Snow! What the fuck do you want?” He turned to look at the boy.

It was a mistake.

Simon looked ethereal. His eyes were soft and tired. His bronze hair was silver and shone under the starlight. His lips. Crowley his lips looked devourable.

Baz swore he felt his vampire heart have a seizure in his chest. He was tingling all over. This was a mistake. He should just go stalk the Watford grounds and sleep under a tree or some shit. Even a cold Autumn night spent outside would be better than this infernal torture.

“Baz. Why are we like this?”

“Like what, idiot?” Baz spat a bit.

The bead of saliva landed on Snow’s pillow. Baz wished it had landed on Simon’s face. Then he wished he hadn’t thought that.

“Why do we hate each other?”

Baz sighed in exasperation. But some force he wasn’t entirely in control of made him turn completely onto his side and face Snow full-on.

“I don’t know! Maybe my parents hate your adopted father because he stole all that was good from our family?” Baz’s words raised in volume. 

He was getting annoyed.

Annoyed that Simon looked so calm. Annoyed that they could kiss right that moment Annoyed they weren’t kissing. Annoyed that it was even a possibility in his mind. He wanted to glare at Simon. But he was so tired. And thirsty.

This was a mistake.

Simon was silent for a moment. He seemed to be studying the wall behind Baz. Then he was studying Baz’s face and time seemed to stop.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot, Baz. None of this stupid rivalry makes any sense!”

“Welcome to the real world.”

“Sure. But right now. I’m scared.” Simon’s voice was getting soft and small.

He was so small and pale and delicate in that moment. Baz felt an insuppressible need to protect him. It made his heart feel like it could burst out of his chest and fly away.

“Scared?” Baz found his voice was getting softer now too.

Why. Why? He needed more control than this. Everything that was expect from him wasn’t what he really wanted. He had to stop his feelings. But he couldn’t. He had made a terrible mistake.

“I’m scared of the Humdrum. Of losing the people I care about. Penny. The Mage. Agatha. You.”

Baz coughed in suprise. Not a sarcastic cough. A genuine “what-the-fuckity-fuck” cough.

“I’m scared of sleeping tonight because I don’t want to wake up and find that I’ve destroyed everything I love.” Simon looked almost like he was going to cry.

“Are you afraid you’ll go off again tonight?” Baz asked.

Simon nodded ashamedly. Baz didn’t really feel concerned that Simon could hurt him. He felt concerned that Simon was sad. They laid there in silence, staring at each other.

Then, then, Simon took the sheet that was separating them, cast it aside, and flung his arms around Baz. Baz was too shocked to react for a moment. He couldn’t exactly fathom how this moment was real. Slowly, he wrapped an arm back around him.

“S-simon?” He managed.

“Sorry.” He muttered into Baz’s shirt. “I think I just needed a hug.”

“You want a hug from your mortal enemy in a bed?”

Baz could feel Simon sigh in response. Then he drew back but not that far back.

“I don’t know.”

“Alright.”

They stared at each other. Baz knew his eyes probably looked as wide as Simon’s did. What did this all mean? What was Simon trying to accomplish through this? Did he know how Baz felt and was trying to manipulate him?

Manipulation or not, whatever Simon was doing was working.

Simon’s hand encircled his and he froze.

Physically and mentally, he froze.

Baz had so many questions. So many demands to make.

Why did Simon care about him?

Why on earth did Simon think hugging the boy who had only made him miserable would accomplish anything?

Why were they holding hands in a bed?

What the fuck was happening?

Why were they not kissing?

They should kiss.

He wanted Simon to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Simon.

“Simon?” He whispered.

“Kiss me.” Simon whispered back.

And he did.

Bookmarks: DIY

A simple tutorial on how to make your very own bookmarks.

Materials:

  • Photoshop
  • Laser Printer Paper (preferably 28lb, but 24lb is also fine)
  • Pretty Poster Board or Scrapbooking Paper
  • Glue Stick
  • Scissors & Paper Trimmer
  • Laminator (if you don’t have one, you can buy one at WalMart for $20. They’re SUPER useful to have, especially if you make artsy stuff a lot.)
  • Bookmark Tassels (Optional)
  • 1/8 Inch Hole Punch (Optional)

Step One

First, determine the size of bookmarks you want to make. (Mine are typically 2″ x 6.5″.) When you’ve decided on a size that you like, create a new canvas in Photoshop with those dimensions, and make sure it is set to AT LEAST 300 DPI.

Step Two

Draw your bookmark design! Make sure all of your important stuff doesn’t get too close to your edges because you want to leave a tiiiiiny bit of room for error just in case you mess up when you cut them out.

Step Three

After your bookmark design(s) is done, create another new Photoshop canvas that is 8.5″ x 11″ and set to the same DPI as your bookmarks.

Drag and drop as many of your book mark designs as you can onto your new 8.5 x 11 canvas. Don’t put them very close together, though, as you want to leave enough room to comfortably cut them out later.

Step Four

Assuming you don’t have a laser printer, we’re gonna take a little trip to Staples/Office Depot/Office Max!

Save that canvas with all your bookmarks on it as a JPEG and put it on a flash drive. Grab a small stack of your own paper and put it in a folder (make sure you have a way to show the printer what type of paper it is. You may just wanna bring the whole pack with you, because I know some stores want to make sure you’re giving them laser printer paper to print on, as other paper types will mess up their machines)

Note: I’m not sure about Office Depot/Office Max, but I KNOW Staples will only charge around $0.50 per page to print your image out if you bring your own paper! ♥

Take the flash drive and your paper with you to your nearest office supply store.

Ask the printer there to print out however many copies you want. If you’re very particular about the size of the bookmarks, make sure to tell them to not have it set to “Fit to Size” and instead let it print at 100%.

Step Five

Once your bookmark copies are printed, it’s time to cut them out!

The best way to do this is to use a paper trimmer. You can get a cheap one from WalMart or Michaels for about $5. They’re SUPER useful to have and make cutting straight edges a million times easier.

The reason you want to cut them out before you glue them your poster board/decorative paper is because you want to be able to fit as many bookmarks as you can onto the posters so that you don’t waste any.

Step Six

Time to glue them to your poster(s)/scrap book paper!

I try to buy really unique posterboard that catches the eye and matches the colour schemes of my bookmarks. I usually end up getting metallic colours or holographic poster/paper because that’s what I personally like. I would advise staying away from anything that has textures, though, since you’re going to laminate these later.

Make sure you’re gluing your bookmarks to the BACK of the poster board.

Also, make sure you coat all edges and corners, as you don’t want anything to curl up. A good tip I find is lining any of your bookmark edges up to the edges of the poster board. That way it’s just one or two less edge(s) you have to cut off.


Step Seven

Time to cut out the bookmarks again!

Get as close to the bookmark’s edge as you can so you don’t leave any white poster board backing hanging off the edge. If you have to, it’s totally fine to cut off a millimeter of your bookmark design just to make sure you have a clean trim.


Step Eight

Laminate! Since I already have some Mettaton bookmarks laminated, I’ll use them for this example.

Make sure that when you slip your bookmarks into the lamination sheet, they have a decent amount of space between them. If they get too close, the lamination might not seal all of the way around each bookmark.

Step Nine

Once you get all of your bookmarks laminated, we once again have to cut them out.

It’s very important to leave about a third of a centimeter of lamination on the edge of your bookmarks. If you cut right along the edge of the bookmark, the lamination will eventually peal off, and we don’t want that. We want to keep it nice and sealed.

Be sure to trim the corners a little bit, since they can be kinda sharp and poke you pretty bad.

Step Ten

This part is completely optional, but I love to take an 1/8 inch hole punch and punch a little hole in the top of the bookmark and add a little tassel decoration.

You can find these tassels online from China on Ebay or Aliexpress for pretty cheap. The prices are all about the same no matter who you buy from, so I can’t really give a specific vendor who has the best prices. (Note: pretty obvious, but if you buy them within the US, you’re gonna pay a lot more.)

Bonus Info:

If none of my instructions have made any sense, this video does a wonderful job of explaining the process of bookmark making for artist alleys and whatnot.

Tips For Writing Time Travel:  An Illustrated Guide.

@jjpivotz asked:

“What is a good way that I could write time travelling without it being cliche?”

Ooh, I love questions like this!  They’re so much fun, and on a somewhat self-indulgent level, they really get me thinking on the tropes themselves.

So without further ado, here are my personal thoughts on writing about time travel:

1.  Embrace the fact that it’s not gonna make total sense.

This goes for a lot of creative fiction.  When I was writing my urban fantasy novel, for example, I used a lot of traditional mythological figures whose duties and depictions (i.e. one humanoid being reaping the dead despite the fact that over a hundred thousand people die a day, billion-year-old entities who still look and behave like teenagers, figures from religions whose world views wildly conflict interacting with each other, etc.) weren’t compatible with what we currently know about the laws of physics.  

And the sooner I resolved not to even attempt to explain it, the sooner my novel improved.  

The wonderful thing about fiction is that it doesn’t have to imitate reality as we know it;  the laws of the physical universe need not apply.  And as long as the characters in your universe accept that, so will the reader.  

I’ve had around twenty beta readers look at my book, and not one of them has poked holes in my casual disregard for the conventionally accepted rules of physical reality.  The suspension of disbelief is an amazing thing.

As for how to best apply this to time travel, take Back to the Future, for example. This is one of the best time travel series ever made, but if you really look at what’s going on, you’ll come to find that none of it really makes any sense at all.

First of all, Marty McFly is a popular high school student whose best friend is an eccentric nuclear physicist.  Conventional wisdom (and just about every fiction writing book or advice blog I’ve ever read) would dictate that this is a pretty heavy plot-point and warrants some explanation.  But the narrative never questions it, and as such neither does the vast majority of its audience.  

It is in this exact manner that Back to the Future handles its heaviest of all plotpoints, the act of time travel, which is the main driving force behind its entire plot.  

How does it explain Doc Brown’s ability to time travel?  Well, he invented the Flux Capacitor, of course.  What is a Flux Capacitor, you ask?  How does it work, exactly?  Well, fucked if I know.  All I know is that the narrative treats it like it’s a real thing, and by default, so do I.    

The same could be said for the magically changing family portrait, the fact that the characters can’t interact with their past or future selves without universal destruction, flying cars, and the fact that the McFlys’ future children inexplicably look exactly like them.  None of it makes any sense.  And it’s fucking magical.

Another of my favorite examples of this is pre-Moffat Doctor Who.  The science is campy, occasionally straight-up ridiculous, and unabashedly nonsensical, yet paves the way for some truly great and thought provoking storylines and commentary.  

Bottom line is, I don’t know how to time travel.  I’m guessing you don’t either, otherwise you probably wouldn’t be asking me for advice on how to write it.  Accept it.  Embrace it.  Don’t be bashful about it – trust me, time travelers are probably a minority in your readership, so they won’t judge you.

So as to what would be a good means of writing time travel, the short answer is:  any way you want.  For obvious reasons, I’d stay away from old cars, police boxes, and phone booths, but with the power of the suspension of disbelief, virtually nothing is off the table:  a pair of magic sneakers, a refrigerator, a closet, a treehouse -oh, crap, that one’s been done before.  But you get the picture.  You can be as creative as you want to be about it.  Don’t be afraid to step outside the police box, so to speak.  

Trust in the magic of the suspension of disbelief, and don’t overthink things.  Your story and readers will thank you.

As for how to avoid other cliches, that brings me to my next point: 

2.  Look at the tried and true tropes of time traveling.  Now subvert them.

This might just be me and my adoration of irony talking, but since you specifically asked how to avoid cliche I’m going to indulge myself here.

Do the exact opposite of what people expect from narratives about time travel.  You know the old trope:  the protagonist steps on a bug, and comes back to the present to find the world being ruled by gorillas.  

I’m not telling you not to include drastic consequences for time travel, because there would probably be quite a few (at least if you believe in the chaos theory, which states every action has a universal reaction.)  

But you could toy around with the idea that fate isn’t something that can ultimately be altered at all, and that all the protagonist accomplishes is solidifying (or even triggering) a pre-existing outcome.   

My knee-jerk suggestion, as someone who takes fiendish glee in incorporating humor into my writing, would be to make the protagonist have some Forrest Gump-type encounters that unwittingly trigger huge, history-defining event, but it can also be significantly more tragic than that:  maybe the protagonist goes back in time to save his father from a hit-and-run car accident, for example, and then accidentally kills him.  Or perhaps he realizes that his father was a bad man (beat his mother, planned on killing someone, etc.) and makes a moral decision to kill him (which is also a great way to ask philosophical questions.  More on that later.)  

I don’t know what kind of time travel your writing or what your style of writing is, but these are things I’d personally just love to play around with.    

Or maybe time travel does change things, but it’s not even close to what the protagonist expected:  maybe his words of wisdom to his newly married mother about true love and the meaning of life and whatnot unexpectedly lead her to realize that she’s deeply unhappy in her current marriage, and he returns to the present to find her divorced (lesbian stepmom optional.)  

Maybe absolutely nothing at all changes, but he realizes that he’s responsible for some famous Mandela Effect, like the Bearenstein/Bearenstain discrepancy.  

Bottom line is, don’t be afraid to do the unexpected.  But conversely, don’t be afraid to use tried and true tropes, either:  regardless of how overdone they may seem to be, they can almost always be rejuvenated when interjected with a thought-provoking plot.

Which brings me to my final point:

3.  Make sure it has something to say.

Science fiction, especially the speculative variety, tends to be best when it begins by asking a question, for which it will later provide an answer.  Take, for example, Planet of the Apes.  The pervasive question of the movie is whether or not humanity is inherently self-destructive, which it ultimately answers with its famed final plot twist that humanity has long since destroyed itself.  

Rod Serling (who was incidentally responsible for the original Planet of the Apes, by the way) did this remarkably well:  almost every episode of the Twilight Zone packed a massive philosophical punch due to the fact that they followed this simplistic formula.  The episode would begin with the presentation of a question, big or small (frequently by the charismatic Serling himself) and by the end of the episode, that question would be answered. 

I’m not going to go in to detail here, as it would spoil the magic of uncovering the plot twists for the first time, but Serling used his speculation to tackle the narrow-mindedness of beauty standards in Eye of the Beholder, the dangers of fascism in Obsolete Man, the communist paranoia of the time period with the Monsters are Due on Maple Street, and countless more.  

I would recommend watching the original Twilight Zone for almost anyone looking to write speculative fiction such as time travel. 

Even if your work isn’t compatible with this specific formula of Question => Debate => Answer (which some work isn’t) it will still need to have some kind of underlying statement to it, or no matter how clever the science fiction is or how original the time travel is, it will fall flat.  

This is why Twilight Zone, Planet of the Apes, Back to the Future, and (pre-Moffat, as I always feel inclined to stress – he does literally the opposite of almost everything I recommend here) Doctor Who still remain widely enjoyed today, despite the fact that many of their tropes have been used many, many times since they original aired.

So for time travel, remember that it is a means, not an end.  You could write the most cliched type of time travel story imaginable, and your audience will still feel fulfilled by it if your message is heartfelt, thought-provoking, and/or poignant.

Maybe you want to use time travel to make a statement about your belief in the existence of fate, or lack thereof.  In this case, using the Sterling Approach, you would have your story begin with the question of whether or not humans can alter or change destiny, allow the narrative/characters to argue the question back and forth for a while, and then ultimately disclose what you believe the answer to be.

Or maybe you want to use time travel to explore or subvert the treachery of history and how it is taught, and show how the true narrative can be explored, purposefully or otherwise, by the victors.  

Maybe you want to show that there’s no clear answer, or maybe no answer at all, a la the cheerful nihilism of Douglas Adams novels.

Either way, figure out what you want your message to be long before you put pen to paper, and then use time travel, like any other creative trope, as a means to an end to answer it.  Your story will thank you for it.

(I hope this helps!)

man i’ve spent so much time involved in discourse nonsense on here that like. none of it surprises me. like when aphobes say shit like “the split attraction model is inherently homophobic” or “headcanoning a character as ace is homophobic” or “telling minors that asexuality exists sexualizes them somehow and is evil and wrong and also homophobic somehow” i’m just like “yeah yeah heard it all before our existence is somehow homophobic mmmkay moving on”

so its always kind of a trip to see people who aren’t as involved with the discourse respond to these arguments because the reaction is almost always “yo what the fuck are you talking about that doesn’t make any sense” because it really truly doesn’t.

it’s kinda nice in a way, i guess, to have a little more confirmation of just how out-of-touch and blatantly wrong aphobes are with every argument the make. because you really have to sift through a lot of bullshit and redefining key terms in order to even begin to make sense of what the aphobes are spewing out.

so yeah. friendly reminder that aphobes’ arguments are illogical and nonsensical and just do not work outside of their own incredibly narrow worldview

2

OK - so I’ve been thinking about that press conference at the end of “Spider-Man: Homecoming.”

OSTENSIBLY it was planned to announce Spider-Man as the newest member of the Avengers (or what’s left of the Avengers – Tony Stark trying to staff them up…). But the more I watch this, the more I’m not buying that.   At ALL.    

Was the press conference simply another bit of Stark “arrogance”? Because that’s not how you plan or carry out a press conference, especially one that you’d be able to carefully plan in advance, such as announcing the hiring or appointment of someone. WOULD Tony have just sprung a press conference on poor Peter, surprising him at the Compound with just moments to prepare? DID they intend to hustle Peter right onto the stage in front of a roomful of media, with his secret identity on display to all?   Would they have given him a chance to suit up as Spider-Man first??

And most of all – no, you DON’T just spring a surprise press conference on your major participant, your “announcee.” ESPECIALLY if it’s a kid, because kids can go off-script very easily and your press conference spirals out of control. You meet with that person, carefully coordinate every last detail, run through possible questions the media might ask and rehearse the answers. If your star player is young and inexperienced, as Peter is, you would probably even work with him to actually script his answers, give him a “cheat sheet” to consult if you think he’ll freeze in front of the cameras. But even IF you were just going to announce him and he’d just stand there, masked and not taking any questions – you still need to tell him well ahead of time, so he’s prepared.                                                                                                     

And what IF they’d put him in front of cameras and announced his identity? That makes even less sense. “The Spider-Man” has already been making the local news in Queens – which is actually the NYC media market, the largest in the world – so you can bet reporters are already trying to find out who he is. That would end up being the major question asked at the press conference, whether they brought out Peter masked or not. it would turn up the media heat immeasurably on Peter, a 15-year-old kid that Tony has heretofore been protecting. And IF he appears unmasked - would Tony REALLY have done that, leaving Aunt May to find out on television and Peter later to face his livid aunt?  

It makes no sense. None of it. Even if Tony hadn’t thought all that through, Pepper, who’s in charge of it, would have.  

So the ONLY thing that makes complete sense is that that’s NOT what they intended to do at all. That Tony KNEW Peter would do exactly what he did: make the mature choice and turn down the Avenger job, realizing he still had some growing-up to do. Do you REALLY think Happy has carried that engagement ring around with him since 2008?  (I mean, it’s nice to think that, but really. It’s Happy.)

No – that press conference was assembled for Tony’s engagement announcement all along.

He worked it all out with Happy.  The only one slightly surprised was Pepper (but not really…).  And it WAS just one final test for Peter that Tony KNEW he would pass.

(P.S. Tony doesn’t look all that surprised or disappointed when Peter says he’ll pass on the Avengers membership. He’s acting, for the kid’s sake. HE KNEW. Pepper doesn’t really look all the surprised at the ring, either.  She’s thrilled and over-the-moon happy, but not particularly surprised. She pretty much knew, too.)

I just came up with this idea - what if during their travels after S2 has ended, at some point they find this little Galra girl in among a group of refugees.

Little girl, all purple and fluffy still because she’s just a kid, doesn’t do or say much other than stare at the Paladins, and clutch at her dolly, which… looks suspiciously like it’s supposed to be one of them, but there are a number of things wrong with it.

For one thing, its skin, mainly the face, is purple. Like a Galra. 

For another thing, it looks incredibly beaten up, and ripped in places.

After a while, the cute factor wears off a bit and the incessant staring without anything being said just gets ‘kind of creepy’, as one of them puts it. As well as ‘how do we know she’s not been doing that to that doll on purpose? She’d come from whatever classified as a ‘normal’ Galran household, not involved in the war at all, so she’d probably been fed what everyone else had who didn’t know the truth - that Voltron were the bad guys in this.

Except… at some point they find out that what really happened was that her parents had been one of those kind of people who looked at things, and realised that none of this makes sense, who saw through the obfuscations. They were probably even accountants. Or involved in the bureaucracy and red tape in general.

But the long and short of it is that this little girl hadn’t been staring because she blames these people for everything that’s gone wrong, but because her parents had kept telling her ever since the rumours had first surfaced, that Voltron would make everything right again. Voltron would save them.

And when they were found out - caught for saying treasonous things - they told her where to run, and that Voltron would save her.

The little dolly isn’t torn because she hates Voltron, but because it’s been through so much with her. And it’s purple because how was she to know what race the Paladins were? Her parents were her heroes, so she made it (or had it made for her) based on what she thought a ‘hero’ should be.

(Extra fun points for the dolly having red highlights because the Red Paladin was the one to sucker punch Zarkon in his base, and when they see it, they - especially Lance - they’re like, ‘Is that meant to be you? Did word get around this fast?’ and Keith’s just. ‘But I’m not even purple.’ 

Afterwards, though, he’s just touched and honoured.)

Wouldn’t it be something if this show lasted 6+ years and the writers explored all of our favorite ships. Like season 1 would be Bughead and this journalistic fairytale would burn and then flicker out like a well lit flame, but still a flame can’t last forever.

Then season 2 could be Beronica and they would go on all these fantastic dates and learn so many things about themselves that these two best friends never would have thought possible. They will refine what girl power means. And this too will end. But these girls won’t be shattered by it. No, it will have fused in them a bond so strong that together or not, cannot be broken.

Season 3 or 4 would be Barchie. Betty and Archie finally coming to terms with their feelings for each other, exploring a child’s dream of love and letting it consume them. And when it ends, it won’t be because it didn’t work out, because it did, effortlessly. But because there is a greater story to be told and greater love to come. I think a little Juronica could take place during this time too ;) a little wild and crazy fun for those two is definitely in the mix.

The season after this would be Jarchie. These two best friends admitting to themselves that this is something they have to try. It’s worth the risk, it’s worth the flame burning out. It’s worth all of it because after everything in their past, nothing else makes sense anymore. These two will fight for each other and let the chips fall where they may. And if it ends, it ends. And they’ll journey on as they always do.

And when the show comes to a close, in its final season, it won’t really matter who ends up with who. Or if none of them end up with each other. What matters will be the connection forged between these four friends and the way every moment shaped who they are and who they will become.

There will be boundaries broken, moments forever cherished, memories never forgotten and four lives fully lived. I’m here for these kids and their stories, their incomparable mark on this crazy world in this tiny town called…Riverdale.

Irate - 4

(Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3)

Summary:

Y/N’s curious, clumsy, and has a knack for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time. Bucky’s a hot-headed prick with a dark past and communication issues. Both are paired for training, and neither party is all too thrilled.

Word count: 1383


There are three things you’re sure you’re afraid of: heights, needles, and blood. Seeing Bucky surrounded by the two of the three is enough to make your stomach churn.

He’s lying on a bed in the same infirmary where you’d woken up less than a week ago. His eyes are closed, and there’s blood crusted over his face and his chest. There’s an IV in his arm too, attached to a bag of blood. As if that isn’t bad enough already, your eyes drift over to the scarlet stained bandage on his chest. You almost throw up.

“He’s in stable condition now, but he's…” The doctor trails off, looking at Steve and Sam. A look of understanding dawns on Steve’s face, and instantly his features frown in deeper concern. Even Sam has his eyebrows pulled together in worry. In fact, you’re probably the only one in the room, amongst the nurses, doctors, and Sam and Steve, who doesn’t understand what’s so bad. Stable condition is good, right? That means he’ll live?

“He should wake up within the hour.” The doctor hands a list of prescriptions to Steve: some antibiotics to prevent infection and a bunch of painkillers, and then all the medical professionals file out of the room.

“Can we talk, Steve?” Sam’s giving Steve a pointed look, and you have a feeling it’s got something to do with what the doctor had mentioned earlier. Steve nods stiffly, and the two shuffle out of the room, leaving you alone.

You’re not quite sure what compels you to sit beside Bucky, but you take a seat and watch him look like he’s not agitated for once in his life. His eyes are closed, and if you focus hard enough, you can almost ignore the blood and see the lines on his face because of his permanent scowling.

Your gaze moves down to his metal arm. You’d never really paid much notice to it before, and you realize it’s because he’d always had it covered with a glove and long sleeve t-shirt. The metal appendage itself doesn’t shock you – Steve had mentioned that Bucky is a war veteran, and prosthetic limbs aren’t unheard of. What does make your stomach jolt is the jagged, angry scar at his shoulder, where metal meets skin. It looks as if someone had jammed the arm in place and let it heal.

Without realizing you’re holding your breath, you reach out to touch the scar. Your finger brushes over the cool metal, then the raised, angry red line, warm to touch. Seeing him like this adds a layer of vulnerability to Bucky, and you wonder what other secrets he’s hiding. Does he–

“What are you doing! Не трогай меня!”

You jump, then panic, trying to pull back your hand, but his metal hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly you have to blink back tears. You can feel a bruise forming and Bucky trashing on the bed is, screaming in Russian, so clearly in pain, isn’t making the situation any better.

“Bucky,” you say, putting your other hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to calm him down. “Bucky, you’re okay.” Your throat tightens– what are you supposed to say? You don’t understand why he’s so hysterical and you don’t know what to do and your wrist hurts and your eyes burn and–

The pain starts at your chest, mirroring the location of wound on Bucky’s. It feels like someone’s sticking a knife in your body and then slowly turning it, and it hurts so bad you can barely breathe. Then it spreads through your entire body until even the tips of your fingers are feeling at least a dull throb. You don’t understand what’s happening, but you just barely register Bucky’s grip loosen from your wrist. He slumps back against the bed, eyes wide, breathing heavy, and looks at you.

“What are you doing?” It’s quieter this time, and he means it as a genuine question. He’s looking at you so intensely, eyes boring into you before his breathing begins to calm and his eyes start shutting against his will. “How are you doing that?”

Only when your own vision is hazy and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open do you realize what’s happening, and the last thought before your eyes shut and you feel your body crashing towards the ground is about how pathetic your abilities are.


“Your body absorbed the neurotransmitters.”

You groan, putting your head in your hands. “So I’m basically a giant painkiller?”

Tony Stark, who you’d had the pleasure of being acquainted with ten minutes ago, had managed to increase your already budding headache a two-fold.

“Not quite.” He moves his finger around a tablet on his hand, projecting a holographic image in front of you. “Pain killers work by blocking protein receptors on the nerve cell, so you don’t feel the pain.” He points to what you can only guess is a nerve cell. “You, on the other hand, absorb these things, chemical messengers. That’s why you feel the pain and our old pal, Bucky, doesn’t.”

He keeps talking at you, but you’re not really paying attention. This is your special ability. This? The ability to absorb pain to the point where it leaves you temporarily incapacitated? How useful will that ever be? None of it makes sense anyway. How is it even possible to be able to absorb these– these neurotransmitters?

It’s been a week since the incident in the infirmary, where Steve and Sam had found you knocked out on the floor with a deep purple bruise on your wrist. After a multitude of questions about what happened and why they’d heard Bucky screaming all of a sudden, they’d sent you to rest. Since then, you’ve been in frequent meetings with Director Fury, and Steve even made some time to sit down and talk to you about everything that’s going on.

Wanda, as you’ve learned, can alter reality and move things with her mind. Her brother could move at the speed of sound. Your abilities, well, they pale in comparison. Steve’s told you not to worry too much about it, and subsequently sent you to meet the renowned Tony Stark (who’d almost had a heart attack when he realized you don’t know who he is). And Tony? He isn’t making any of this easier to grasp.

“Can you release them too?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, bringing your legs up and tucking them under you on the couch.

There’s a prick on your arm and you yelp, and then Tony grabs your hand. You gape at him as your arm stings from the needle prick, but Tony barely acknowledges your pain. “That’s a no. FRIDAY, mark that down.” Then he turns back to you. “Is it voluntary?”

“Is what voluntary?”

“Become a pain magnet. Can you choose when to turn it on?”

You’re about to answer when Bucky saunters into the lab, and you do a double take at the fact that he looks– well – completely fine. His shirt is off, and where you’re expecting an unhealed gunshot wound is just scarred flesh, similar to the scaring on his shoulder, as if he healed at four times the rate of a regular human being.

“Great. Okay, so I’m like, a human ShamWow, and you’re immortal. Cool. Totally normal,” you ramble. How many weirder things can you see in a day?

Bucky looks unamused. “Get up, you’re late for training,” he sounds as annoyed and disinterested as ever,  

You open your mouth, but Tony cuts you off. “Would you look at that, we’re closed for the day! FRIDAY, book Tin Can an appointment between my office hours of never and never.”

You giggle, but the glare Bucky gives you shuts you up immediately. He strides over to you and reaches out to grab your wrist, then stops. You see him swallow and follow his gaze down to your bruised wrist. He hesitates, then looks at you so intensely you have to look away.

“You have five minutes to get up, get changed, and meet me in the training room.” He finishes with one last glare towards you, a look of pure contempt at Tony, then walks out of the room.

Bucky Barnes is an enigma. And also a total drama queen.


Не трогай меня = Don’t touch me 


tags below cut

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For @stephanieebrown in celebration of her beautiful new hair and my 200 followers.  Prompt was ‘timkon’


The Gotham air is cool on his face and Tim Drake feels like he’s dreaming.

Bruce is yelling something in his ear (stop please don’t do it) and he distractedly reaches up and tugs the comm out, lets it fall to the rooftop beneath his feet.

Tim can hear the whine of the drones as they rocket towards him, and it bothers him a lot less than it should.  They’ll be on him in a minute.  Maybe a minute, maybe less.

It doesn’t matter.

The thought strikes him so suddenly that he frowns, pauses.  

Of course it matters.  This is a sacrifice.  He’s seventeen for God’s sake.  He’s seventeen and he has college and Steph and the Titans and-

And it still doesn’t matter.  None of this is right, it all feels so wrong, and it’s only now that he’s about to die that he really notices.  It feels like a dream, it feels like it doesn’t matter because…

Because it’s not real?  

No, that’s not quite right.

Because he’s not real.

That doesn’t make any sense, and yet instinct tells him it’s the correct answer.  

But how can Tim not be real?  He’s Timothy Jackson Drake (real name buried, forgotten as best as possible) and he was Batman’s partner for a little less than a year as Red Robin.  He’s a genius, a hacker, a prodigy, and he’s going to take a break from being a hero to go to college.  He exists, just ask Steph or Jason or Cassie.  

And yet, there’s a small, cynical voice in him that just thinks, Wrong, wrong wrong.

Only now it really doesn’t matter because the drones are on him.  

Tim twirls his bo staff.  He hopes that he can maybe take some of them out before they get him, before it all ends.

(He doesn’t really bother to think about the ending.  It doesn’t matter it it hurts or if it’s quick or if there’s a bright white light or absolutely nothing.)

Everything seems to slow down.

Something’s hurtling towards him, past the drones.  Some of the drones are exploding, but not all of them, and the ones that are still active shoot.  Every single shot carefully aimed to take Tim down.  

The blur that’s made it past the drones crashes into Tim, arms are wrapping around him, there’s a familiar scent of leather and hay and home, someone is yelling, “Robin!”

Instinct takes over, like this is something he’s done a hundred times before.  He pulls his arms and legs in, making himself as small as possible.  Somehow he knows that he doesn’t have to worry about the body wrapped around him, he doesn’t have to be afraid that all the drones are firing on this person instead.  It will be okay.

The warm blast from a chain of explosions hits his face, and Tim knows it’s okay to look up.

The boy who’s holding him is achingly familiar, even though Tim’s never seen him before in his life.  He looks kind of like Superboy, but his hair is shorter, his face less angular.  His eyes aren’t as angry.

Besides, Superboy is gone.

The wreckage of the drones burns around them, and this beautiful boy lets out an agonized sigh, even as he smiles. “You stupid self-sacrificing bastard.”

And the words make Tim’s heart pound, make him realize there’s a warm happy glow in his stomach.

This is real.  This matters.

“I don’t remember you,” Tim says.  Because he knows this boy, somehow, some way.  Of that he’s sure.   

There’s a flicker of hurt in the boy’s eyes, and something in Tim flinches at the idea that he has hurt him.  But the look is gone in an instant, replaced by relief and a wild, uncontainable joy.

“That’s okay,” the boy says.  He smiles at Tim and it’s like the world has dropped out from under his feet.  “I’m Kon.”

“Clone boy,” Tim says.  He has no idea what the words mean or why they come out of his mouth so easily.  All he knows is that it feels like something has come loose in his chest, that he can breathe again, and it feels like he hasn’t been breathing in a very long time.

Kon’s hands are still on Tim’s shoulders and he looks like the sun has come out after years and years of rain.  “I’ve been looking for you a long time.”

This is real.

This matters.

anonymous asked:

Request! How would the RFA react to an MC that looks delicate innocent and all that, but then shES A TOTAL MEMESTER *dabs* AND SWEARS LIKE A SAILOR 24/7

lololol this is so me except I’m neither delicate nor innocent looking I’m just abnormally quiet but look I will swear just to put emphasis on other swear words ok

also pretend that in the chats, MC acts ‘normally’ I guess, since she wanted to make a good impression. But now that she’s gotten more comfortable with the RFA, it’s time to let loose. 

also also sorry not sorry for my cringey memeing

also also also (really sorry) I think swearing like a sailor and knowing good insults are part of the same package so…tah

-Sevensity


Yoosung:

  • AW BABY
  • at first, he thinks you’re an actual angel
  • you’re sweet, and pure, and so incredibly precious, you’re probably the most gent-
  • “Ay it’s my bitch- I mean boy, Yoosung!”
  • Did she…did she just call me her bitch?
  • not that he really minds though whoops 
  • This boy is s hOOK
  • When he grew up, he was the kid that thought “heck” was a terrible word
  • and now the love of his life just said the big ‘b’ word/?//???
  • MC the boy will cry actually he’s kinda scared that his mom is going to jump out from beneath a table holding a bible
  • Without realizing it, he’ll cover your mouth with his hand to ‘prevent’ you from saying any other bad words
  • then he realizes what he’s done and just sort of goes ah I hate myself
  • proceeds to curl up into a ball of solid misery
  • you: ಠ_ಠ
  • telling him memes just freaks him the fuck out because who is this person????
  • Yoosung hates surprises tbh
  • He calms down a bit once you revert to your chat room self, but this is only to lessen the blow, and you’ll gradually release your own beast all in due time
  • he’s fine with memes, not fine with swearing
  • but seriously when you guys live together he has a heart attack every time you stub your toe because you just yell profanities at the top of your lungs
  • “HOLY JESUS SWEET MOTHERFUCKER ” 
  • “o h  f O R THE LOVE OF SATAN’S FIERY BALLSACK10/10 for creativity
  • your neighbors are like uhm is she ok I don’t think she’s ok
  • meanwhile Yoosung is sobbing on the floor
  • ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


Zen:

  • Actually with Zen, it’s a little while before you openly started to swear and meme-out in front of him, since you are a bit afraid of his fans’ reactions
  • But at some point, Zen is acting with a really shitty excuse of a human being
  • This guy has some sort of god-complex (also he wears khaki pants and keeps screaming about death and ruling the world) which just makes you want him in his pretty face
  • As they wrap up a scene, he begins to complain about everything that went ‘wrong’, and proceeds to storm away after his tantrum
  • He shoves people out of the way, and Zen tugs you to the side before the shit kid can touch you
  • But you can’t keep your cool, and just-
  • “Woah excUSE me, fucking douche canoe coming through.”
  • You feel Zen’s fingers just freeze around your arm
  • Did those words really come out of your sweet little mouth? 
  • Starts to wonder how else your mouth can amaze him *wink wonk* jfc this kinky piece of shit is too much for me
  • Basically after that incident, you don’t hold back anymore
  • Although Zen doesn’t get used to it for a while after-all your words and appearance are so completely different, he secretly loves it when you swear
  • Especially when you mention body parts 
  • Specifically when you mention his body parts
  • He thinks he could handle any other surprise you throw at him
  • You prove him wrong during an RFA get-together one day, where you all go to visit Jaehee’s cafe together since she just began to sell new things I like to believe they have their happy endings no matter what route you choose see sometimes I can be optimistic
  • You buy one of the fresh baguettes, eye it for a moment, then your tongue darts out and-
  • “Babe, just what are you doing?” you hear Zen’s concerned voice
  • Everyone is looking at you
  • Meekly, you reply “I lik the bred.”
  • Seven doubles up in laughter, since he’s basically the only one who gets it this nerd
  • Zen thinks you’re ill
  • You have to explain to him that it’s from a meme, and horror dawns on his face
  • “I’m dating a female version of Seven.”
  • But it’s fine, he loves you anyways, and insists you teach him about the world of memes so he can try to understand your references
  • Though it’s like teaching the average mom how to use a computer
  • No matter how many times you explain, he just doesn’t get it

Jaehee:

  • Ok first off lemme just say rip Baehee
  • When she sees you for the first time, she is glad to see how sweet you look; your tender smile and innocent eyes wash away her stress and fatigue
  • That is, until you promptly grab her hand and say, “Damn, I’ve really hooked myself one bitchin’ fine-ass lady.”
  • Excuse me w h a t???????
  • Jaehee is physically unable to process what you just said
  • MC is that really you?!?!?!
  • “Jumin can really be a such dickhead sometimes. I’ve always wanted to say that to you,” you continue, scratching your head.
  • good job MC you just done gone and b r o k e the bae
  • How can someone so innocent-looking have such a foul vocabulary?
  • She thought the swearing was shocking enough
  • But boy was she not prepared for the memes
  • As soon as you two spot Seven, you just proceed to dab the fuck out and narrowly miss hitting Jaehee square in the face with your hand
  • oh no, she thinks
  • Seven reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few HB chips
  • seems like Dat Boi stashed a bag in big suit
  • “Bröther may i have some öats?” you say
  • on nO, she thinks again
  • “Sorry bröther, I’ve already begun eating the öats.”
  • “I have very few öats bröther, I must procure yours.”
  • Oh NO JUST WHAT DID I SIGN UP FOR??
  • Jaehee promptly collapses from the shock and let’s just say that it takes a while for her to recover 
  • She has you limit your swearing to when you’re alone together, if at all possible
  • But she cannot hold back your occasional meme streams while working at the coffee shop

Jumin:

  • When Jumin first hears you swearing, a puzzled look flashes across his face, but there’s no grand reaction
  • He just accepts it as part of who you are, and thinks it’s an interesting part of ‘commoner language’
  • There’s a business meeting with some dudes whom you despise, mostly because of their lewd comments directed towards you, which Jumin merely brushes away
  • You walk up to your babe during a break
  • “That guy is an absolute fucking asshole, it’s a pity that you have to do business with such an obnoxious smelly ballsack.”
  • “Um princess he’s still here.”
  • said obnoxious smelly ballsack is fuming, starts cussing right back at you
  • You summon up all your hate for him and hiss “Cash me outside, howbow dah?”
  • Everyone in the room: ?????????
  • “MC what language was that just now?”
  • “The language of memes.”
  • *asks Seven what this language is*
  • "Can you please teach me how to speak it?”
  • Jumin’s very first meme, hear me out, is not about his gayness
  • It’s the heavy breathing cat
  • and oh my god does he spam it
  • So much that Zen just basically stops taking part in any chat that involves Jumin
  • The Memeing Ways Part 2: How to Keep a Meme Relevant by Saeyoung Choi
  • and actually, surprisingly enough, Jumin also becomes a memer
  • also becomes a meme himself


Seven:

  • Apart from the mutual memeing in the chats, Seven considered you to be more of a demure, down-to-fuck earth kind of girl, and this idea was only strengthened when he saw your sweet looking face
  • As soon as you spot the tomato in the crowd at the RFA party, you dart over to his side and say
  • “Well just fucking bend me over sideways and fuck me twice there are so many people?!”
  • Seven blinks at you
  • A slow grin spreads across his face as he realizes o h he’s been deceived
  • *pretends to be shot in the chest*
  • “Hmmmmmm watcha saayyy,” you sing, slowly backing away
  • Seven is gonna die he loves you so much???? like what she’s also into memes????
  • Adores your cussing, and y’all nerds start to make up your own insults, even if they really don’t make any sense to other people
  • His personal favorites are “white crayola” and “factory edition Vanderwood″
  • You guys order your very own none pizza with left beef, but it tastes to bad
  • #firstworldproblems
  • You start making memes of each other
  • MEMES ALL DAY EVERY DAY
  • NEED I REALLY SAY MORE? ? ???

So my freshman year in high school, I had a history teacher who I’ll just call Mr J. Basically he was really tall and intimidating, but had an amazing sense of dry humor and would constantly make the whole class laugh, but none of us ever saw him smile. He would also do things no other teacher would ever do. One class period, we had just finished making posters for a project, and we had to put our materials away. He was collecting the scissors from some students that used them, and when he lifted one pair, he gazed accross the room at a board for sticking stuff onto with thumbtacks. He then looked back at the class and said “do you think I can hit it?” We then watched, slightly confused, as he opened up the scissors and threw them accross the room like a throwing knife as the handle hit and bounced off the tack board. Without skipping a beat, he then picked up another pair of scissors and tried again, the handle once again bouncing off. Once the class finished laughing at what just happened, he then continued teaching as if it never happened.

Shut Up  (Julian x Reader) Imagines - Fluff/Jealousy


Imagine:

You and Barry were just geeking out in the forensics lab, and Julian can’t help but get a little jealous…

*~*~*~*~*

“That’s so cool!”

“I know, right?!”

“And then, the part where he spelled out Francis –”

“That was gory, but so funny…!

Julian heaved a heavy sigh. For the past hour, the meta-human expert has been listening to you and his helpless half-wit of a partner Allen gushing over the latest Marvel movie, Deadpool, and it was honestly driving him insane.

I mean, really… Julian scowled as he watched you fawn over his lab mate. Is it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet?

Not that he minded hearing your voice.

God, no.

He loved listening to you. You were always so sweet, angelic - an infectiously happy person that somehow made him smile.

It was Allen’s yammering that he couldn’t stand. He just found his partner’s voice so…

Obnoxious.

Though, truth be told, he didn’t like how you went to the movies with Allen over the weekend either.

Just the thought of it made his blood boil.

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Teaching Starters

A sentence meme where my muse is showing yours how to do something or vise versa. Some are particular or specific, while others may be left to interpretation.

Teaching:

You shouldn’t wear yourself out so quickly… breaks are fine too.
Be sure to water the plants carefully, they’re more delicate than they seem.
Getting injured isn’t going to help anybody, don’t overdo your training.
See, tying a tie is actually easier than you think…
The thing about cooking is, as long as you stick to the recipe there isn’t much that can go wrong.
Only point a weapon when you intend to kill.
Jumping headfirst won’t be an advantage in a fight. You’ve gotta be defensive… a thinker.
A garden requires patient labor and attention. You can almost say it’s a labor of love.
Music expresses what can’t be put into words. Tune into your feelings first.
Calm down. A little hard to do that task when your hands are clamming up, isn’t it?
Look you don’t drown, I’m holding you up alright? Try floating.
The brush strokes are too wide. Keep your hand more controlled.
Knitting isn’t so hard once you learn the basics.
Keep your emotions in check. That fear of something going wrong- your hesitation. Discard it.
You have great potential but your abilities should be kept in control first.
You look like you’re getting tired. Should we conclude this for now?
Fishing isn’t just about catching fish… it’s also a form of meditation.
To dance you need to have rhythm. Watch your feet now.
As long as you’re doing your best, that’s what matters. Let’s try again.
Just do what I do. Watch me carefully…
Now this part is tricky, but you can perfect it with practice. In time, it’ll almost feel natural.
You need to be more careful, that was reckless!
This isn’t a race. You will learn it within time and with patience, I promise.
You won’t make progress if all you’re trying to do is impress others.
If your art makes people happy, that’s really what matters.
I’ll guide you through it. Give me your hand…
Being stubborn is cute and all but it won’t help you here.
I don’t always have all the answers. Sometimes, you need to find them on your own.

Being Taught:

This is boring.
This is taking too long, how long am I supposed to go at it? Years?
My work isn’t as good as yours…
I’m getting tired…
I’m not that tired…
This is too hard.
I don’t have much of a green thumb though…
But it always burns!
I’m trying but I feel like this isn’t going anywhere.
Can you show me how to do this?
Okay, d-don’t let go of me though…
I can’t, I’ll sink like a rock.
I want to get stronger. Will this really help me?
My drawings suck.
I can’t do this if you’re just gonna be staring at me.
This is confusing! None of this is making sense!
I did it! I finally did it!
Bet you’re impressed by my progress, huh?
But I’m singing the notes… where am I going wrong?
What do you mean you need to ‘believe’ what I’m doing?
It should be fine as long as I’m stronger than them, right?
You said you would take it easy one me…
But I’m doing everything you say…
Doesn’t it scare you?
How does this taste?
But we’ve been at this like ALL DAY…
I’ve made a lot of progress… thanks to you.
All you do is point out what I’m doing wrong.
As long as you’re here to show me, I don’t think it’s all that bad.
Well? Do I pass?

And I know that my poetry usually makes no sense, it’s a thing called love that compels us to keep reading. Would you care to know why my favorite color is red? I used to have a friend named Kevin and it was his favorite color. He was the flamboyant and most colorful of us in the group. Popular with the ladies and loyal to his friends. I was the one in the backseat laughing to their thoughts when I really had none of my own. Maybe that’s why I enjoy writing so much. Maybe that’s why I love the color red. He painted his room red once, I remember things changing right around then. The drugs were getting a little heavier even with his teenage youth, the drugs will rip right through you. Painkillers will kill your emotions, you don’t want to feel a thing. I can relate to Kevin, I fucking love painkillers too. I shut myself off from everyone, but occasionally I enjoy the company. I’m awkward and my thoughts are kinda dim, so I always liked being around him. Are you familiar with the literary term foil? A foil is a character who contrasts with another character in order to highlight particular qualities of the other character. I feel like he was like that for me. I always saw myself as a little too blue, I wanted to be something worth loving, I wanted to be a little more like him, I want to kiss life into everything, I wanted to live, I wanted to be more than a shadow of a group of peers that did drugs and listened to melancholy and nostalgic techno after school hours. I don’t know how he’s doing or what he’s up to. The last thing I heard was he’s into needles now. Rumors plague this tiny town, we were raised from imperfections and we grew up to taste cigarettes that numb our gums. He had the kind of laugh that made you want to be his friend. It’s funny though, none of my friends initially liked me. Until they got to know me, empty and hollow, a sponge– the one who listened to the problems, never really any of my own. I get lost in my thoughts, I know. My poetry is scattered, I know. I don’t convey structure or rhymes, I don’t hide in between the rules. My words are more scribbles than they are truly masterpieces. Would you like to know why I write? I used to know someone that said the shoreline was like a bed and naps were always possible– she waited there everyday for inspiration. She would tell me the tiny stories inside of her head that had nowhere to go, it’s funny. I never really listened to her, I just enjoyed the company of love and to be loved. Love, what is it? When I wrote my first poem for her, I didn’t know where it came from or why I wanted to write it. I just knew that I had to write it. It had to be done. I had to read it to her. Let me tell you, if your first poem was a love poem, it was probably the most cringe thing you’ve ever created. Ever. Period. But still, I loved it. It was bad, but it had feelings. You always miss the feeling more than you do the person and that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever had to realize. It really shouldn’t be, but it is. You never really understand your mistakes until it’s just you. You only want them back when you’re alone. It’s been so long, I don’t keep track of the days anymore. Hell, she’s married now. I shouldn’t be writing this. She’s going to read it anyway. It doesn’t matter at this point. I guess she left poetry inside of these palms for good measure, she loved attention. A lot of it. The more, the better. Maybe I stopped paying attention. Maybe I got too comfortable. Maybe that’s why I love writing poetry, in a way it just means that I still love her. Lost kids who didn’t know how to love, another foil. You know, I never really liked to read books until I met her. She had a smile made from your doggy eared books, you know, your favorite line you always had to reread or quote during a conversation. She had the kind of laugh that made you want to get in on the joke even though you were the one telling it. I loved that laugh almost as much as I loved Kevin’s. I don’t talk to these two anymore, I don’t remember much about the memories, only the feelings that they left. You can’t find loyalty amongst pill users, they always use. Trust me, I know. I’ve been swearing off painkillers for months. You won’t find a love like that again because every relationship is unique in its own way. You can’t recreate the old flames with your new ones. You need to move on. I haven’t really lived life. Maybe you’re just like me. Maybe you’re stuck at a job that you don’t like and maybe life just doesn’t make much sense. So you blackhole more drugs to ease the disaster that is you. Nothing hurts, you just don’t want to remember anything that might hurt– right? It really shouldn’t be, but it is. I listen to music more often than I converse with people. Music influences my soul in a way that people cannot. I just turned 24, but I’m still a little confused about who I am. Does any 24 year old have their shit figured out? Do you ever feel like your dreams and aspirations are slowly dying? I’ve always felt like an old man. I’m boring and I don’t dance too much, the only thing good about me is my writing. It’s the only thing I’m half decent at, but I hate that too. I don’t answer anonymous questions anymore because I feel like my thoughts aren’t good enough. How can I help you if I can’t even help myself? Red rose petal poetry pressed onto the stove kind of writing– it really shouldn’t hurt, but it does. I’ll always miss the days when things were simpler. I didn’t care as much. I didn’t smoke as much. I didn’t think as much. It was just simple. No hard facts, just some stupid kids getting high behind a dark house and running into ghosts in every room. No broken hearts, just some teenagers who wanted to figure love out with a knife in hand waiting to hug each other. I’ll pry the knife real slow and we’ll call it love kind of love, ain’t it love? I love you doesn’t even sound right anymore, so I’ll say nothing. I miss my old friends, but we’ve changed so much– I wonder if they’ll even recognize me. My life is insignificant and minuscule, but we must all seek to find our purpose, to bring meaning to the clutter, and to add more fire to the chaos that is life. I don’t want to die angry, I want to die with a smile. You don’t get to do anything twice, you don’t get to correct your mistakes– so make enough for your self-reflection drunk nights. You don’t get to unlove people, so pick the right ones to fall in love with– don’t worry, you won’t need to remember all of their names, just the feelings. You don’t get to unfriend people, they’ll always be a part of you. A part of who you are. A part of who you will come to be. I keep slipping into the darkest parts of my mind and call it a life. I’ve been reading this book and it told me to dig deep. Why do I write? Why do I enjoy the burn of love? Over a few thousand poems, but 99.9 percent are indeed about love. Why do you want this kind of life? Well, darling– These words are as much yours as they are mine.
—  zero point one

just out of curiosity but like i’m not the only one that hates the random mics in spring awakening obc, right?

after ep 4 and the ‘best of islam’ clip, skam is still only showin the negative with islam im lmao what does julie think this is gonna teach her non-muslim/white audience??? that sana shouldn’t feel angry and superstitious abt people?? that if she stops looking for hate then she wont find it?? as if when she stops lookin for racism its just gonna randomly stop for her. idek??? whats goin on here??? this muslim rep is horrendous and im sayin this as a non-muslim but as someone who follows another religion.

skam this season has shown muslims to be angry, paranoid, cold, lonely, sad, out of place. they made sana feel the worst kinds of misery, feel extremely isolated to the point where they villianized her twice, first with the insta account and then emailing willhell, just bc she ‘wouldn’t open up.’

im not sayin muslims cant feel any of these emotions or go through terrible times, but this is a show supposed to entertain, educate and relate to a teenage audience, an audience which is already filled with misconceptions abt islam.

as faiza once said in one of her posts, there needs to be a balance, a balance between the good and the bad. show sana feeling lonely and isolated and frustrated and angry and in pain. but also show her overcome that. let sana speak, let sana’s friends speak, let them all talk about what’s been happening, not throw it under the rug and go “pheww well.. offscreen they all made up now onto the next plot!” like… you seriously put that much pain onto sana for us to just… never get to see a conversation between her and the girls??? and listen, idec if this conversation comes this week or next. it is wayyy too late and unrealistic. idc if everything is tied up nicely by the end, none of us will ever forget the bitterness we felt throughout the whole journey with the only reprive being small happy moments that still didn’t make sense in the first place bc its lack of continuity.

lastly, what i wanted to say before i really trailed off: we saw sana in the ‘best of islam’ clip weeks back. the way sana spoke abt believing in Allah and how much peace and stability praying brings to her was basically the purest, most important clip of the season tbh. that’s what religion is, that’s what islam is and that’s what islam brings into sana’s life.

its absolutely normal and healthy for sana to question certain things in islam, to question things that she’s not too sure about. but to show someone as strong in her faith as sana is, to show her absolutely miserable and for islam to be the reason why all these shitty things are happening… to throw all these obstacles at her which in turn makes the audience feel like “ugh this islam is turnin out to not be bringin anythin good into sana’s life, yousef was right, all it brings is hate and conflict and sana can solve all this if she just speaks up!” is a horrible msg. this season literally shows more abt how islam is 'restricting’ sana and making her 'cold and condescending’ oh and let’s not forget… a 'bitch.’ ….

its as if islam is what’s bringing all this pain onto sana when it was mainly other people’s ignorance, racism and intolerance. as if islam isnt what’s giving sana true peace when she prays, gives her guidelines to follow that makes her remember to be a good person, makes her feel like she means something bc of her relationship with her faith. there’s just no balance this season, none at all. religion is not inherently a bad thing which only causes you pain bc trust me if islam only brought sana heartache and pain, i dont think she would still want to be a practicing muslim. but that’s the thing: islam isnt at fault for bringing her all this pain but that’s exactly the opposite and toxic point the audience comes to.

almost everybody has something within their religion that may conflict with their values and/or lifestyle. but religion is ultimately abt your own relationship and connection to g-d. and in sana’s case, islam is shown to be… not great for her bc she’s struggling (bc sure its not her environment thats makin her suffer most. sure jan)

lol anyways this is mainly unedited im just pissed. what a shame this season has turned out to be.