Kit’s walking around a small textile shop looking for cloth for his latest pet-project; animatedly holding a one-sided conversation with the cashier who stands on the opposing side of the shop ringing someone else up. That being said, his attention is thoroughly caught up in the hemming-and-hawing of what color to pick from the shelves for it.
Perhaps—that’s why he doesn’t seem to notice when he’s reaching back to take feel of another fabric while curiously eyeing another that he doesn’t realize that it belongs to someone. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t think twice about excitedly lifting the illegally soft bundle of fabric he’s found and deciding to purchase it before anyone else could possibly sneak off with such an impressive find. In fact, he’s about to do just that! That is. Until he’s begun to turn to get a good look at what he’s found and it moves in his palm. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, does he turn and find that the appealingly soft item belongs to and is quite attached to someone else. Very attached. He is literally holding a stranger up by the back of their shirt and fur. Shit. “OH… OH MY STARS,” he ever-so-carefully puts the other monster back down, hands lifting to cover teeth and pupils uneasily flickering away. “OH MY GOD.”
It has been exactly two months, three weeks, and four days since Barry has started occupational therapy, or, OT, for short. So far he is really improving, slowly, yes, but definitely improving. Though, when Doctor Rice had suggested going back to work, not to do anything, but just to observe, Barry began feeling anxious. It’s not that he is afraid of what people will think…well, actually it kind of is. He hasn’t step foot in the CCPD since the accident, which was…almost a year and a half ago. Surely it would be extremely different than he remembered. Is he even ready for this step?
To his luck, you offered to go with him, knowing you could calm his nervously. Today is one of his bad days; meaning this morning he had two panic attacks and a migraine that comes and goes. You told him he should wear his glasses, to help his migraine. As for the panic attacks, you are on high alert, let’s just say.
He reaches for your hand, tangling his nimble twitching fingers with yours as his black converse scuff up the stone steps. “I’m right here, babe.” you reassure, fixing the collar of his red checkered flannel to lay flat.
With an awkward smile, he continues walking, until he comes face to face with the glass door. He stops, eyebrows furrowing. Maybe he isn’t ready. He turns to you, pecking your cheek. “I-I ne-needed to d-do th…that. At l…least bef-ore we w-went in.” he blushes, pushing his glasses up carefully. You smile up at him, pecking his cheek in return, probably making him even more flustered.
His shaky palm presses against the glass, arm outstretched to hold the door open for you. You drag him in the department, so he doesn’t run back. Your shoes squeak on the white marble and police officers rush past you, making Barry’s grip tighten. Running your thumb against the skin of his hand, your eyes light up, seeing a familiar face. “Barr, it’s Joe!” you beam quietly, pointing across the office.
He perks up instantly, swaying your hand excitedly. Due to some cases, Joe wasn’t able to make some of Barry’s therapy sessions. Before you know it, you’re getting pulled across the room by your boyfriend, who’s mind goes faster than his feet can go. Expectedly, his left foot gets caught on his right, tripping himself and knocking over another guy in the process. Luckily, you let go of his hand beforehand.
Hooking your arm under his bicep, you help him up, lanky limbs flying around, trying to pick up the files, and his glasses, while standing. “I-I’m s-so s…orry!” Barry stutters, sticking his wiggling hand out to the man. With a broad smile, the man accepts the hand, standing up and dusting his Star Wars graphic tee off. “He-here’s th-the f…files. I-…I’m B-Barry.” he grins, holding the shaking folders out.
“Thanks man. It’s no biggie; to be honest, I wasn’t paying attention, so kinda my fault, kinda your fault. Potato, patato. I’m Cisco Ramon, I work in the Meta Human Division. Wait - do you work here?” the man, Cisco says rapidly, brushing his long dark hair behind his ear, grinning as he waits patiently for an answer.
Barry blinks, trying to make sense of all those words; his chest starts to feel tight. He glances back at you, breathing heavily as he tries to calm down. You rub his back soothingly, “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” you introduce, shaking Cisco’s hand, “We’re actually visiting Joe, Barry’s foster dad. Hopefully, um, Barry can get back into the swing of things, eventually.” you nod, peeking at your boyfriend.
Another detective shows up, patting the man’s shoulder, “Cisco, don’t you need to get back to work?” Cisco scoffs, rolling his eyes and waving at the two of you. The blonde detective smiles, “Hey Barry, Joe will be over in a minute, he’s on the phone with Iris.” he shrugs, noticing you standing there, “Oh, hi, so sorry, you probably think I’m rude, I’m Eddie Thwane, Iris’ fiance.” he beams.
You introduce yourself again, nudging your boyfriend playfully. “T-th-anks E-ddie. Al-always good t-to see you. Y-you finally…m-meet my gir-girlfriend!” Barry tugs your waist, putting his chin on your head.
Eddie scratches the blonde scruff framing his mouth, leaning towards you, “Honestly, Iris and I thought he would never leave the house…” he whispers, cupping his hand around his lips. You giggle, peering up at the brunette. Silently, Joe walks up behind Eddie, slapping the back of his head. “Ow…”
Joe rolls his eyes, handing his partner the phone, “Iris.” he says; Eddie nods, waving and pressing the phone to his ear as he walks away. “Y/N! Missed ya, girl.“ he smiles, hugging you from the side. You laugh, pulling away after a minute. “Barr-” his voice drifts under your boyfriend’s.
“Joe!“ he rejoices, throwing his arms around the older man, his flannel riding up his back, showing a sliver of pale skin. Joe chuckles, patting his son’s upper shoulder. “D-doctor Rice s-s-says I…I’m ge-tting better ev-every week a-and, um, Y/N th-thinks I’m almost ready t-to st-start my job!” he beams, practically radiating sunshine. God, he’s like a little boy with his foster father.
Nodding proudly, Joe gazes at the two of you with wide brown eyes that look like melted chocolate. He raises both his fists; you pound one, making a blowing sound when you pull away, while Barry touches his to the man’s, giggling the whole time. The older man snaps his fingers, pointing at Barry. “Tomorrow Iris and Eddie are coming for dinner. I don’t suppose…“ he trails off, glancing at you with his lips puckered.
You salute, grabbing Barry’s soft hand, “We’ll be there!” you confirm, earning a glare from your tall boyfriend. The detective laughs, squeezing your arm for a second before somebody beckons him. “Duty calls.“ you joke, fingering your sky blue sweater.
“B-bye Joe!” Barry grins, pushing his black glasses up his nose before waving. His face crumbles as Joe strolls away, lips turning down in a frown. “C-can we go ho-home n-now? My h-head…“ he groans, pressing two of his shaky fingers to his temple, eyes screwed shut.
You hum, nodding and beginning to slowly walk, guiding him to the double doors. “We’re still going tomorrow.” Barry groans in response.
❝IT’S LIKE THAT NOW, HUH??? YA’LL BE PLAYING WITH MY HEART WITH SMUT BUT I CAN’T DO THAT SHIT, BRUH. I AIN’T GOOD IN SMUT SO I’LL STICK TO… FLUFF. So here’s another fluff for senpai Kara, babyitsfiction, featuring Hobi… in which you’re too busy and he doesn’t give a shit. AND OMG GUYS YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO HER LULLABIES. I LOVE IT. CLICK HERE. ^3^ ►1010 words | scenario, fluff, why omg Kara
The sounds of keyboard typing is merciless on this floor,
the chatters were always minimized and it’s like a death town here—except,
everyone is working and not socializing
because there’s no time for that. That doesn’t exclude you from all of this,
either, in fact, you’re the one leading them all because the deadline is next fucking month and thanks to some idiot
who mixed up the paperwork, everything needs to be redone because your boss
doesn’t take any excuses or pinpoints it to the culprit—it’s all for one and
one for all and at this point, you’re the one feeling like you should jump off
the building before the due date. There’s a calling of your name in the middle
of your reformation of the document but for a second, you think your mind is
just playing tricks on you.
Then there it was again, your colleague’s voice echoing
across the vast hallways until it reached your ears. You pause to peek up from
your seat to meet with her gaze from her cubical, “What?”
“Hobi, line one,” She monotonously calls out before
returning back to her work—great, we’re all zombies here.
You groan and pick up the phone, placing it by your ear
because cellphones are damned in this
place and as much as you didn’t want to talk to him at the moment, you
can’t. You’ve learnt that ever since you’ve gotten together with the man that
when he wants to talk to you, he will
talk to you no matter what even if it means you’re in a meeting, excuse
yourself, get out from it and tell him to talk later—it has to be done. After
many years now, you’ve grown accustom to it so… it was a bit hard to neglect
“You’re not home yet…” Whining, “Why?” Curious.
“Work, OT,” Short and accurate.
He sighs, “But I miss you… you’ve not been home for a week,”
It’s moments like these where your heart swells from the
strain in his voice because you know he’s dead tired but here he is, not taking
his rest but calling you instead. You
hear his voice mumbling about how much he wants to just crash your office and
kidnap you back and you joke about something like why don’t you try and see but he’s not faltering in his words as
you type away, still maintaining your focus—yep, you surprise yourself
sometimes, too—without ignoring the words he’s saying.
“Can I come and pick you up now? You can work at home,” He
suggests and you’ve seemed to space out by moving your fingers swiftly across
the keyboard and he hears that. You don’t even realize that he’s hung up the
moment you hear faded beeps on the other line. You only pull it away and drop
aside the receiver when it’s about ten seconds after you’ve heard it’s not his voice—you could only make up
that either he’s done disturbing you, he doesn’t want to intrude anymore or he
got bored from the lack of response—all in which, you’ve experienced before.
However, what you have not
but have yet to experience is the
fact that suddenly there’s an announcement of your name from the intercom and
everyone stiffens when they hear lobby
because it’s either you’re fired, kicked out or boss just wants to have a chat at the lounge—which can’t end well
Everyone is taking their time to glance at your way,
noticing how you’re clearing up your items from your desk and only gathering
your necessities and shoving them into your bag. You flick the switch off and
sigh, just what have you done wrong this
You walk past your friend, she gives you a pat on the back
and you shake your head, bidding her goodbye because after the talk with your
boss, it’s game over for the day and it’s restart level the next.
When you reach the lobby, your eyes widen at the familiar
figure sitting by the black, diamond-studded sofa. Your feet brings you so far
to walk around it until your eyes widen when you notice it’s holy-crap-Hoseok and your boss laughing,
only noting your presence after two seconds later upon your arrival. Your jaw
is slack and you nearly drop your bag in your hand, blinking at the both of
them as if they’re ghosts and you’re the only one who sees them.
Hoseok immediately wraps his fingers around your wrist,
standing up with you, “I guess we’ll be leaving now,” He states casually and
gives your boss a shake of hands before killing her with that radiant smile of
his, “The both of you are lovely,” She comments and your eyes are about to pop
at the compliment—was it even a compliment?
You weren’t able to ask what’s up or if you’re fired or if
you should even come back for work the next day when Hoseok naturally slides
his arm around your waist and the both of you are out of the building. You’re
still blank, unable to process everything and it feels oddly weird because it’s not every day this
happens. It’s until you get into his car and he straps on his seatbelt, make
sure you do the same and then he’s taking off—back to the apartment.
Then you manage to ask, “W-What just happened back there?”
He chuckles, using one hand to balance the wheel while the
other held onto your hand, taking the spaces between your fingers with his and
then he’s sparing you a grin, “Your boss’s daughter is a major fan—a little fan service,”
It clicked in your mind.
“So you just—“
“It’s funny how much concert tickets and backstage passes
can buy me some time with my favorite person,”
You’re gaping at him but you’re really curious, “How long am I free?”
“The whole week,”
Sometimes you hate to
admit it but… Hoseok does know how
to abuse his rights.
AU where Eren and his family run an antique shop in their little town of Shiganshina and Eren has to man the store after school and on weekends and it’s the most boring thing ever. He hates it, no one his age ever comes in and he’s bored off his rocker (literally, there’s a rocking chair behind the counter that’s probably 3 times his age) and he just sits there, rocking, popping bubble gum, and playing his 3DS or something idk
Until one day, this blonde cutie strolls in and Eren’s thinking ‘is he lost??? what the heck oh man he’s cute’ and and he can overhear the boy mumbling to himself about how interesting some knick knack is or how he has to get his grandpa to come there. Eren eventually gets the courage to ask him if he needs help with anything and the blonde is like 'oh, not really, just looking around. I’m new in town and was taking a little tour by myself and wound up here! I’m Armin Arlert, by the by.’ and he has a little hint of a British accent and Eren has to remember how to breathe because wow his smile and he chokes out his name in response. They shake hands and Eren gets the idea to show Armin around town since his shift is almost over and Armin’s really happy about it. They quickly become friends.
And Armin keeps coming back to the shop because he loves antiques and trinkets and he buys the big atlas covered in dust at the back corner of the shop and Eren is dumbfounded like 'dude you’re actually buying that thing mOM THE ATLAS IS FINALLY SELLING MAKE PIE OR SOMETHING armin you can stay and celebrate too’. They use that atlas to mark all the places they’ll go once they make enough money to get out of the small town, and they do a bunch of cute things like talking walks, sharing ice cream, telling stories in blanket forts even though they’re almost 17, bike riding, building a tree fort out in Armin’s backyard, and just really cute outdoorsy things that totally look like dates, but aren’t to them.
Thematically speaking, most of my criticism of TFA is that it reflects the generational bias of a parent with adult children, who still thinks his judgment is superior to theirs and worries about their making choices he disagrees with. The original trilogy owes a lot of its inspiration and longevity to the fact George Lucas still had the sensibilities of a teenager when he made it, and aimed it unabashedly at a young audience. People who were kids when Star Wars first came out packed the theaters when he made the pre-trilogy – and overwhelmingly brought the next generation with them. Unlike so many films made “for kids”, Star Wars never admonished them from the point of view of a stuffy adult. On the contrary, the OT celebrated the wisdom and idealism of youth: even when Luke disagreed with and ultimately disobeyed his mentors, he was right to trust himself. The conflict with his father was developed from this narrative standpoint.
Compare the values of the Empire – an authoritarian structure that prioritized order, security, and the interest of the “haves” in hanging onto all they had – with the sorts of things a lot of parents antagonize their kids over – financial security, material comfort, and adapting them to an imperfect, unjust world without excessive rebellion – and you’ll see that they’re unmistakably echoing each other. Had Luke joined Vader, he would have had wealth, status, and even something resembling safety, as the Empire’s many guns would have been pointing at his former friends instead of him. But the galaxy would have lost its best chance at toppling a dictatorship. And Luke would have lost his ideals and his freedom. He and Vader clashed over it, spectacularly, but Vader realized in the end that Luke was right – right to expect more from him, and right to expect more from life than the Empire’s crushing social Darwinism could offer. They were able to connect, and then Anakin lived on beyond his death because he followed his son into the light.
In short, the OT showed young people fighting by any means necessary against a society that was driving everyone to cynicism and despair. It showed them blowing up their own government’s most advanced superweapon – twice – because they refused to live in a world where the threat of mass genocide would be used to extort obedience. It showed them attaining an overwhelming victory, going from being wanted criminals (traitors, terrorists, and spies, from the point of view of the Empire) to becoming the heroes and leaders of the New Republic. The aunt and uncle who thought Luke should stay on Tatooine and moisture farm were wrong. The Jedi masters who thought Luke needed to murder his father for the greater good were wrong. His father, who thought he should join the Empire instead of attempting to defeat it … you get the idea. The OT is the story of a bunch of kids who went forth and did all the things that people who were older, more knowledgeable, and more experienced told them they were damn fools for trying. In the process, they saved the galaxy, and it’s implied that they would build something better in the Empire’s stead.
So did they? Well, that’s actually one of the disappointments of the latest Star Wars movie.
This beautiful picture was created by @renrink. The minute she opened commissions I jumped at the chance to request something.
I love mythology and I love Undertale - so this seems the perfect thing to be my first official blog here. :)
I intend to do comics/stories based on my own ideas for the ReaperTale AU,
As a thank you - I wrote a short story ot accompany it I hope you all like it.
Field of Stars
The sun had long gone to bed and the ribbons of colours ruby, pale rose, orange and honey cast in its wake had long since darkened to lilacs, dark blues that merged into the deep dark vacuum of space.
Without the bright light, the stars slowly became visible, white flames against velvet, their faint hissing mingled with the music of the spheres once the planets appeared, but for now he was all alone.
Space was cool to the form; the temperature like shade on a hot summer day and against his bones was pleasant, the moonlight made them glow until he had gone beyond the silver disc out to the fields of stars.
He reached to a satchel at his belt, a glow could be seen from within as he drew out the newly harvested souls of plants and animals – the flames were all sorts of colours and they flared vividly against the dark backdrop.
He cast them far and wide as if they were solar seeds; they left trails against the sky as arched or shoot to their resting place in the firmament. Small, large, bright and faded, they gleamed and glimmered as he walked amongst them making patterns when he felt like it.
He felt her coming, her aura as warm as the sun and turned to meet her a star in his hand. ‘Baby’ stars flowed beneath her feet, newborn souls flocking to the Goddess, like chicks around a mother hen.
Her dress was white with a tint of pale pink so she seemed enrobed in silken petal. In her arms she carried her lantern, its warm light spilling over her making her glow.
She smiled at him. “Good evening Sans. I see you are making new patterns today.”
She walks besides him in the night sky as he pointed out his new patterns including a few that made her laugh, a sweet sound that rivalled the planet songs.
She gathers the fading stars, the embers of souls, so that they could be reborn as bright new souls to begin the cycle of life all over again. Sometimes a star would fall, scattering into tiny pieces that would be reborn on its own.
As dawn approached, it signified a new day and as Sans watched Tori walk away back to earth. He remembered when the tradition began, so long ago.
9x10 "Road Trip" 9x23 "Do You Believe in Miracles" Season 10 "The Year of the Deanmon"
I feel like these moments are kind of telling the whole story. A story of tragedy. A story of decay. A story about a man, who spent all his life thinking he was poison (though he never was - he was poisoned as a small child when too much has been put on his young shoulder and then he was corrupted by the mark and the blade), hating himself, sacrificing himself, being content with dying, because he feared what he might become more than anything else.
And in the end he became just that. Became his shadow, became “his demon”. Became his own worst nightmare. Became someone, he would despise when meeting on the street. Someone, who is so fundamentally different from everything he truly is.
He became the poison he always thought he was. And he ended up liking it. The carefreeness, the carelessness. He doesn’t “want to be fixed”, he doesn’t want to be “cured”, because he “likes the disease”. What others might call sick or disturbing or disastrous, he calls a blessing. He’s made his peace with what he has become (for the time being).
Because why would you want to be cured from a disease, why would you want to be saved from a sickness if that disease, that sickness solves all of your problems? Yes, why would you trade feeling in control and happy (though you are completely out of control and it’s really not the kind of happiness and fulfillment the you truly crave) for pain and guilt, if in your mind you are finally saved.
The answer is easy: It’s love. Not the imaginary one. Not the pretend one. But the real one. The one that fills up the empty space you tried to fill with pills and booze and babes and whatever else. The one that makes you whole.
Ladybug begins to question her feelings towards Chat Noir, just as Chat questions his feelings towards Marinette. Chloe’s birthday masquerade ball unleashes a hoard of problems that Marinette never thought she’d have to deal with, stemming from the loss of her miraculous. Can she help Chat Noir get back Ladybug’s miraculous without exposing herself? Or will this be the end of Ladybug as we know her?
[Lots of MariChat, reasonable amounts of angst, ~hopefully~ a satisfying reveal}
This is the first fic I’ve posted (and written) in five years. Be gentle with me. Check it out on AO3 here or read below!
I am a straight white cis male who lives in the united states and has no idea what the hell feminism is. Please explain it to me objectively. I don't even know if this is how you post on tumblr. I use reddit and 4chan so direct me to the right place for my questions.
To put ot short,
Feminism is the believe that women are equal to men. In the world today, women are seen as lesser and don’t have the same rights as men do.