Prompt: You and Roman have been an item for a while. You plan a surprise party for his birthday. Dean helps you and Roman sees you spending time with him and gets jealous, thinking you are cheating. Just as he is about to confront you he walks in on his surprise. Followed by smut about you being his and only his. Anon. I added Daddy!Kink to this. It’s pretty damn smutty.
I caught the last day of the William Eggelston show at the David Zwirner Gallery on 20th Street in NYC. These are the largest Eggleston prints made, measuring 45 x 65 3/8 inches, and they hold up well at the larger size. (though making them big seems to be less about Eggleston aesthetics and more about Zwirner economics.)
The majority of the 40 prints on display had not been previously exhibited, though they were taken more than 30 years ago as part of his ongoing series The Democratic Forest.
I took the above images of Eggleston’s framed prints with my cellphone. I tried to faithfully reproduce the originals, but you really need to stand in front of them for the full effect. Readers of this Tumblr know my view of Eggleston and his contribution to American art and photography. Eggleston himself is a man of few words. So, in that spirit, I’ll leave it there. Enjoy.
“So what, you’re my cousins or something?” You asked, annoyed with the situation.
“Actually they’re your brothers.” Bobby said bluntly.
let out a scoff, “Right. My dad doesn’t have any other kids. I begged
him for siblings when I was younger and his response was always the
“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, meet your brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester.” Bobby stated.
You looked at the men, hoping one of them would just shout out they were joking, but they didn’t. “Where my dad?” You asked, “He can tell us what the hell is going on.”
All the men’s faces dropped at your words, instantly making your heart sink; this couldn’t be good. “Where’s my dad?” You said again. When none of the men moved to say anything you started to panic. You walked to the room he usually slept in when you stayed there but he wasn’t there, the fear began to rise as you ran to the room you stayed in but he wasn’t there either. “He went to get stuff right? He forgot the marshmallows for the hot chocolate and he’s running to get them like last year, right? Right?”
“Y/N.” Sam said softly, sadness beginning to wash over him as he realized this was his sister in front of him and he was going to have to tell her that their father was dead. “Listen to me.” Sam reached out to touch your arm but you recoiled.
“Don’t touch me! I don’t know who you are.” You told him in a panicked voice. “Where is my dad?”
“He’s dead.” Dean stated flatly.
“Dean.” Sam said through his teeth.
“Wha-what?” You said confused, there was no way your father was dead.
“John Winchester is dead. He died about 5 months ago.” Dean told you.
“But, how?” You asked in a defeated tone as tears began to flow down your face.
“Heart attack.” Bobby replied, entering the conversation. He flashed a look at the boys but you didn’t notice, you were too distracted by the fact your father was dead to notice.
“Hey, Y/N, I know this is hard but before we go into more detail do you have a picture or anything with John? Just so we can be sure you are who you say you are? We have a picture we can show you to. I just wanna be sure.” Sam said gently.
You nodded your head and grabbed your cellphone from your pocket. Opening it up you went to the photo gallery and found the most recent picture you had of you and John; it was taken over the summer during your fishing trip he surprised you with. You handed it over to Sam who in turn gave you a picture Dean had taken out of his wallet. “It’s from when we were kids, but it still counts.” Sam said with a small smile.
You wiped the tears from your eyes, “That’s my dad.” You said as you looked at the picture.
“And that’s ours too.” Sam told you as he looked at your phone.
“It was from the fishing trip we took here in July. He said work was going to be getting crazy and that he might not see me for a while so we spent a week here during my summer break.” You replied as more tears began to flow, “Guess he didn’t mean for it to be forever.”
Sam reached over and pulled you into a hug, this time you let him comfort you. Dean hadn’t moved a muscle since Sam had handed him your phone with the picture of John and you on it. He was in shock.
He had a sister.
Not only that, he had a sister who lived a normal life.
A sister who lived a normal life that her dad gave her.
Dean couldn’t help the anger that was rising in him, he put your phone down and went into one of the bedrooms, slamming the door.
“What’s wrong with him?” You asked as you pulled away slightly from Sam who let out a huff.
“It’s gonna take a while for Dean to come around, just give him some time.”
Note: Okay so, i hope you guys like this!! Just saying… i’ve have never been to a comic con, so i don’t know exactly what it look like. And Benedict don’t have twitter, but here he has. Part 2 coming soon!!! :)
The big building in which the convention was being held was right in front of your eyes, making you smile largely. It was your first time at Comic Con, not as a fan going to a panel, but as one of the cast members presenting the panel.
Everything was so surreal.
If someone’d told you two years ago that you’d be a part of the cast of Sherlock BBC, you’d call the crazy. Fortunately, that’s exactly what happened. And now you were about to enter the building with the other actors to get ready for your panel.
Besides all the magic of the usual stands, today the panels would be Sherlock, Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries and some new Marvel-related trailers. But besides the nervousness creeping up on your belly, there was also the nervousness on you poor fangirl heart. Just the idea of being in the same environment as the Supernatural cast made you crazy, not mentioning your eternal crush on Jensen Ackles. And today, you’d have a chance to meet him.
“(Y/N), is this nervousness?” Martin, who played John Watson in Sherlock, asked laughing as he saw your trembling hands.
“No…” You answered, defensive, making him raise an eyebrow. “Maybe… It’s my first time! I have the right to be nervous.”
“You definitely do, (Y/N). Stop messing with her, Martin.” Amanda, his wife who also played Mary on the show, said hugging you from the side, since you were still in the car. Amanda and Louise (Molly) had been your best friends since you’d entered the series, but there wasn’t anyone in the car you didn’t consider a friend, which was a relief.
The car finally parked, but soon some people from production started guiding you through the corridors to take you to the dressing room. Benedict, Louise and Andrew, who played Moriarty, were in the other car, that’s why they hadn’t arrived yet. The hallways where the dressing rooms were located were obviously restricted to the production and the artists, and until you arrived in front of a door with “Sherlock" written with big black letters, you could see a few of the actors from The Vampire Diaries, but no sign of the Supernatural cast.
“Ah, you’re here!” Mark, the producer of the series and also the actor who played Mycroft, said as he rose from his seat and rushed to hug the cast. He, Una - who played Mrs. Hudson and was practically a big mother to the whole cast - and Rupert - Inspector Lestrade - were already waiting on the room.
“(Y/N), Amanda, come here darlings!” Una said tapping the empty space beside her on the couch, making you sit on her right side and Amanda on her left. You talked and laughed for some time, the photographer on the room taking pictures of everyone until Benedict, Andrew, Louise and Moffat arrived.
“Okay, everyone! The Vampire Diaries’ panel has just begun, at one thirty the Supernatural one begins, and then at three you’re on. After that there’ll be an autograph session with all the casts of the three series here today, so until then who’s not in an interview is free to do anything they want.” Moffat said making everyone nod cheerfully. They’d all ben to a Comic Con before, but the energy the place carried made even a non “Comic Con Virgin” as yourself feel the nervousness of a beginner. “Speaking of interviews, Mark, Benedict, Martin and (Y/N), come with me.”
You rose from the couch with the butterflies in your stomach that had accompanied you all the way here, and left the dressing room with them, not missing Amanda and Louise’s thumbs up for you on your way out. Benedict wrapped his arm around your shoulders while you walked through the hallways behind Moffat. If you were having such fun merely with the production and the artists, imagine what it’d be like outside…
You stopped in front of a door with the name of the magazine you’d be having the interview with, and Moffat knocked and soon heard a “come in” from inside. But as soon as you took one step forward with Benedict still holding you sideways, your gaze was diverted to the left side of the corridor. Was that… Misha?!
You obviously couldn’t tell, since Ben pulled you inside the room parting from you so he could shake hands with the two interviewers, and you did the same. “We’re so glad to have you here! Sit, please.” one of them indicated to the chairs.
This was the first of many interviews you had to make on the day. You were always nervous at the beginning, but all of them ended up to be real fun. The questions were basically about what to expect of the new season of Sherlock, about Mabel - your character - and Sherlock’s relationship, and a few personal questions.
“Where’re we headed now?” you asked to Louise excitedly, since you’d parted from Benedict and Martin a while ago.
“We have thirty minutes until our panel! So for the time being I don’t think we have to be anywhere.” she answered making your heart skip a beat, it was almost time, you could barely contain your excitement.
And then, something clicked on your head.
If there was thirty minutes left until your panel, that that meant the Supernatural one must end now, and maybe you could get a glimpse of the cast before you were on stage! You couldn’t find anyone from their cast the whole afternoon, the only sign of them being the guy at the corridor that looked a lot like Misha. You kept wandering through the corridors, and Louise took a picture with you to post on Twitter with the caption “Molly HATES the competition. I love her, though <3”, making you laugh since you were basically cast as a romantic pairing for Sherlock himself.
“We’re up in five minutes. Shall we?” Louise asked, but ended up going ahead as you parted ways to drink some water. So many interviews had left you with a dry throat.
You were distracted with your cellphone, RTing Louise’s picture and posting a picture you, Benedict and Martin had taken this morning.
You wished you were paying attention.
Actually, no… You didn’t.
“What the-“ you exclaimed when you felt your body hit something, and a cold liquid splash all over your shirt.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” And when you heard that voice, you looked at the person holding an empty glass in front of you.
Jensen. Fucking. Ackles. He was right in front of you, looking at you with a guilty expression without knowing what to do exactly.
“It… It’s fine.” You said still in shock from seeing him, and holy shit was he even more handsome in person, if that was even possible.
But it wasn’t until you felt the water drip inside your bra that you finally looked down to see the damage. Your shirt was completely soaked. Your white shirt.
White and transparent.
Now the shape of your breasts and your navy blue bra were completely visible. “I am so sorry, I really am!” He apologised again, looking at your shirt, which left you slightly uncomfortable. But it soon faded away. He was Jensen Ackles, after all.
“I gotta go. My panel…”
“Starts now, I know, I’m so sorry… Here, um, take my shirt. You can’t go onstage like this.” He said, handing you the grey shirt he was wearing over a batman T-shirt.
He knew who you were. He knew.
“(Y/N) I’m so glad I found you! You have to come with me right now!” An event organiser appeared beside you, already pulling you away.
“Thanks!” You screamed over your shoulder, seeing him smile and yell back another apology and a “good luck” from afar.
You couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“Now here’s the cast of Sherlock!” Someone announced and you were on the stage at the sound of cheers and applause. You smiled warmly at all those people waving at you, feeling your heart race. You waved back, sitting between Benedict and Martin. You were wearing ragged jeans, a pair of black ankle boots and now Jensen’s dark grey shirt.
It had his smell. Holy fuck.
Breathe, (Y/N), breathe.
Moffat started talking about the series and the new season, and the cast eventually commented here and there, especially Benedict and Mark. Then the subject changed to your character, and they gave you the word.
“Well… I guess I was quite nervous at the beginning, since Mabel isn’t originally on the books, and I was really scared that everyone would hate me.” You said a bit nervous
“Yes, Mark and I were also a bit uncertain about her at first.” Moffat added, making Mark agree. “To cast or not to cast a Mabel.”
“Thank god you did…” you played with a smile, earning cheers from the crowd. “But as I was saying, I think a lot of people expected - or expects - Mabel to be similar to Irene, since she’s her younger sister. But the only thing they share is their intelligence, because they’re completely different as to their personalities.” You explained, and so it went for about an hour. Making jokes, laughing and talking about the series and your personal life. You noticed some fans pointing at Jensen’s shirt, making you swallow hard and pretend you didn’t see it at all. They’d obviously notice it. The Spn cast had literally just left the stage.
“And that’s it for today! That you for being here, see you next time!” Moffat said, you waved at the crowd and left.
Your first time definitely couldn’t have been better.
“You were great, (Y/N)!” Amanda said - or yelled - hugging you along with the rest of the cast, who also screamed in approval and joined you on a group hug.
“Awn, you’re the best!” You said with a muffled voice from being crushed by several bodies, and all of them repeated your “Awn”. They finally let you go, and just then you realised that, in a chair not too far - with a perfect view of the stage - Jensen sat observing the scene with a crooked smile.
Your eyes locked and you retributed the smile, but another organiser interrupted the exchange once again, pulling him and the Sherlock cast to opposite directions.
Time for the autographs.
There was a big room with autograph tables for the three series, so it could be more practical for the fans who’d attend all three tables. They were organised each in one of the corners of the room, displayed in a sort of triangle, The Vampire Diaries and Sherlock’s tables on the base and the Supernatural one at the top.
When you arrived, the fans’ screaming intensified, and you could see thousands of people waving at you. You could only smile and wave back. The other casts were already sitting at their respective tables, and when you came in, the session begun.
“(Y/N), I love you so, so much.” A fan came closer to you with swollen eyes, shaking and handing you a picture to autograph.
“Hey, there’s no need to cry! I love you too.” You answered with a smile, and she mimicked your action, making your heart melt. That was the most gratifying part of your work, for sure.
A few more people came by tour table, complimenting you and making you smile even more each time. But you couldn’t help but advert your gaze at the Supernatural table every now and then. Even though your eyes wouldn’t leave Jensen, all of the people seated at that table were your idols, and you were absolutely stunned by how many fans were going by your table with tears in their eyes.
“Can we take a picture?” “Benedict! Martin!” “I love you so much!”
There were so many voices speaking you got a little lost sometimes with all the fuss. You looked back at the Supernatural table and saw Jensen looking straight at you. He smiled and waved, making you do the same. This was a dream.
“(Y/N), you’re so wonderful!” A fan who was about 14 years old said, and you saw Benedict, who was beside you, smile as he heard the compliment. “And you and Benedict have to be together. You’re so perfect for each other!” You and Benedict laughed and he kissed your cheek, making the fan swoon, but he didn’t say anything, leaving you to answer.
“Well, he’s married, sweetie. But Sherlock can definitely have Mabel, I really hope they end up together.” You answered with a smile, seeing the girl next to the 14 year-old divert her gaze to you.
“No, Jensen and her are perfect for each other!”
“WHAT?” You asked a bit shocked.
“You’ve never seen the montages and edits of the both of you? The whole Sherlock and the Supernatural fandom ship you two! And those of them who don’t will start to after today.” You opened your mouth in surprise, but looked at her with confusion after that last sentence, and she soon explained. “You’re wearing his shirt!” You felt your cheeks heat, and for some reason you didn’t explain why exactly you were wearing Jensen’s shirt. You smiled awkwardly, and saw Benedict, Louise and Amanda - who were actually paying attention - laugh at your face. “Anyways, can we take a picture?”
After an extremely tiring afternoon, but a wonderful one nonetheless, you arrived exhausted at home, but not even the sleepiness you felt kept you from running towards your computer to look at the tag #jen(y/n) in all of the existent social networks. After that fan, many others started freaking out when they saw you with his shirt, and didn’t stop asking if you two were together…
When the autograph session ended, everything happened so fast that you didn’t even have the chance to give his shirt back. Not that it bothered you, because despite taking a shower and putting comfortable underwear, his shirt was already back on your body. It had his smell, and despite it being technically wrong, it was your pyjama for the night. But you couldn’t care less, he was you idol and there was nothing wrong with a fan sleeping with a shirt she’d gotten, right? Right.
You were looking at some posts about you on Tumblr when one called your attention. It was a picture of him looking at one side with heart eyes, and the next picture was of you with the same expression looking at the other side. Like you two were looking at each other.
The caption said: “I managed to take a picture right when they were looking at each other! They’re so perfect, oh my god! I watched both they panels, and in the Supernatural one, Jensen was still with his shirt, and then right after at the Sherlock panel, (Y/N) was already wearing it. At the autograph session, I asked them if they were together and he just laughed and didn’t answer, a little embarrassed. When I asked her it was the same thing, and when I asked about the shirt she just said ‘He’s wonderful’ and didn’t say anything else. Is it just me or does anyone else feel like they’re one step from going public? I think our dreams are about to come true #jen(y/n) shippers.”
Your heart skipped a beat when you read what he had said about you, and after this post, you found others always saying that non of you’d answered anything about supposed relationship, but that whenever anyone asked him about the shirt he’d always say “doesn’t she look beautiful with it?”
Okay, you hadn’t answered the questions because you liked the supposition and didn’t want to deny something you wished were true. But what about him? Why didn’t he say anything?
You went to your mirror and took a particularly blurry picture of you wearing the shirt with your phone’s flash and gathered the courage.
You could be doing something really stupid, but you’d never know if you didn’t try.
“Just got home with something from my favourite series… #fangirling” You posted it on Twitter with the picture that didn’t reveal anything apart from your blurry face and the shirt.
Your heart was in your hands and you threw your phone on the bed, afraid to see what was going to happen and going to the kitchen to eat something. Minutes later, when you got your phone back, it had numerous notifications indicating a tweet from Jensen.
“Just got a new fan ;) #hellyeah”
You couldn’t avoid the smile spreading on your face, but it was soon replaced by a frown when a notification arrived indicating a Tweet from Benedict.
You laughed, soon posting a “Benedick”. And you went to sleep with the biggest smile on your face.
So can we talk about the dinosaur artwork in each Steam Powered Giraffe album?! They’re one of my favorite things about owning the actual physical albums. I’m not just collecting Steam Powered Giraffe CDs… I’m collecting dinosaurs! This makes me happy ^_^
These pics were taken on my cellphone though, so they don’t do the artwork justice. But trust me. Awesomeness.
Notes: Another random piece from Seirui’s delinquent au. All characters and the general universe belong to Seirui.
“So, I get it, we’re not in the best position right now. Your helicopter crashed, my motorcycle is missing, all the nearest cars we could’ve stolen are pieces of junk that I refuse to get in, there isn’t even a bicycle or scooter around, and to top it all off, we’re in an area where my cellphone has no service!”
“Calm down, yoi.”
Ace sighed. “I’m perfectly calm. I’m just a little…irritated. Yeah, irritated. Why were there fireworks in a toy factory? Who does that?”
Marco shrugged and then took a quick glance around to make sure that the police hadn’t caught up to them yet. After their joint arson mission had gone sour because of the fireworks mishap, they’d taken cover in the nearby slums.
Originally, Ace had been planning on calling for a ride, but, as his phone kept reminding him, he had no signal.
“Not even one bar,” Ace muttered, checking his phone for the umpteenth time. “If Sabo ever catches wind of this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“We at least finished the mission,” Marco said placatingly. Then he sighed as well. “They’re going to have my head for crashing that helicopter, yoi.”
“It wasn’t your fault. The thing was broken, anyway. You’re one of the best pilots out there; you wouldn’t just crash one of those things on accident like some amateur.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Approaching sirens made both young men slide farther into the shadows offered by the nearby buildings and they waited with bated breath while the police passed them by.
“Seriously, I’m switching carriers after this,” Ace said. Marco rolled his eyes.
“You said that the last time something like this happened, yoi.”
Ace subsided, but continued glaring darkly at his phone. Meanwhile, Marco looked to the sky. After a second, he grinned.
“What is it?”
Ace followed Marco’s gaze and his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in disbelief as a carrier pigeon dropped from the sky. Marco expertly caught it and pulled out the note it carried.
“Help’s on the way,” he said simply, putting the note into his pocket and sending the bird back into the air.
“Is that what you were doing earlier?” Ace asked slowly. “Writing a message for your…your…carrier bird?”
“It’s a pigeon,” Marco corrected stiffly. “A carrier pigeon.”
“Lame,” Ace coughed. “Oh, sorry. Something in my throat.”
“That wasn’t subtle at all, yoi.”
“Like a carrier bird is any better!”
“It got the job done when your phone couldn’t.”
“At least my phone isn’t outdated!”
“’Outdated’ just got our asses out of trouble.”
“…You win this round, Marco.”
Writer’s note: longer than I planned, but it worked out. Again, all credit to Seirui.
He had heard a lot of men screaming in his life. But nothing, nothing could have prepared for this. He had done all the research, mentally prepped to hold your hand and to wipe your sweat, but as he watched you shriek and thrash on the cot, he was completely stunned. He held your hand throughout and gently wiped your face every now and then, mumbling reassuring words to you as his heart ached watching you suffer through the labour.
The silence was blissful and peaceful now in the hospital room. Your husband had propped you against a stack of pillows, and he was cradling Katsumi in his arms. The dark eyes glowed with a proud, delicate tenderness you’ve never seen before, and you smile despite the fatigue.
“What is it?” He asked, looking up at you worriedly. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes.” You sip water again through your straw. The cool liquid felt good against the burning pain that throbbed between your legs. You had insisted turning the morphine down as much as possible, despite Soryu wanting you to be comfortable, and you grimaced as you leaned back against the pillows. Your husband scooted closer to you and held the infant out to you. Soryu gave a tender smile.
“She’s perfect, ________. Thank you.”
As you held the newborn in your arms, teasing at her round red face with your fingertip, motherly warmth blots out the memory of pain. Your husband patted your head lightly, still clearly rattled from watching the horrific hours of labour.
“I don’t think I want to see you like that ever again.” Soryu muttered, putting an arm around your shoulder. “I promised to protect you at any cost…” He kissed your temple. “But this seems even worse than anything I could protect you from.”
*Katsumi – Victorious Beauty
It was a rare sight to see the cool and collected Eisuke be so horrified. You had pleaded with him to stay with you as you went through labour, but he was absolutely no comfort as he sat beside your cot, staring at you in fear and sorrow as you screamed. Throughout the torturous hours, Eisuke watched you with regretful eyes, wondering if having this child was a good idea after all. You cried and clung to him, struggling in a battle he had no power in.
Your husband pulled a chair over to sit beside your cot and the metal dragged against the tile with an accidental scrape.
“Eisuke!” You scolded in the softest voice possible and gently cooed at your son. “Now he won’t stop crying!”
“Sorry.” He grumbled, a twinge of envy in his gut as he watched you fawn over his son. You tried to hold back a yawn as you twiddled your fingers against your son’s cheek, trying to distract him. “Are you tired, _______?” He sighed. “I’ll hold him.”
Carefully, you ease your son into his father’s arms. Adjusting Eisuke’s awkward, nervous arms into position, you lean back against the pillows and watch with tender fondness in your chest.
Eisuke stared down at his son’s face, and the newborn stared curiously up at his father.
“You sure caused your mom a lot of pain.” He poked Hiroshi’s nose lightly, and the tiny boy seemed to pout, wiggling his miniscule hands at him. Eisuke let the boy grab his finger and cling to him. A faint smile curved his lips. “So, are you going to apologize to mom?” He shook his hand a little and the infant gurgled.
“He’s amazing, ________.” Eisuke flashed a proud grin at you. “Thank you for him.”
You smile as your husband lean over and nuzzle his face against your gently, pressing a light kiss to your cheek.
“I will never let anything hurt the two of you.”
*Hiroshi – Prosperous
So, perhaps, watching you suffer at that woman’s hands was not the worst Ota had to go through. He sat at your side, trying to comfort you and distract you as you writhed on the cot. Between the worry and false smiles, he felt a hard twist of guilt. He was the one who had wanted this child, and watching you cry, the cost you had to pay for the choice seemed too achingly painful to be worth. Ota tried to stay positive, ignoring the way you pulled on his arm and hand, encouraging you every minute of the way.
You watched from the cot, cradling your daughter as he pulled the small square of canvas out of the duffle bag sitting in the corner of your room. Rubbing blue paint onto his hand, he pressed the first handprint onto the white. Quickly washing his hands in the sink, he brought the red paint over to you.
Smiling, you pass the soft bundle of your daughter into his arms. Ota snuggles her against his chest possessively. He kisses your cheek as you press your red handprint onto the canvas beside your husband’s. You clean off your hand with the wet paper towels Ota gave you, and gazed lovingly up at your husband.
“Now it’s your turn, mini-Koro.” He cooed down at his daughter, who blinked squinted eyes with a bout of confusion but easy-going amusement. “Open your hand, yeah, just like that! Good job, mini-Koro! You’re such a natural artist!” Ota puts a smear of purple paint onto his daughter’s hand and adds the tiny purple handprint onto the canvas. He wipes her clean and tilts her ever so slightly to see the finished product. “How does it look, Ayaka?”
The newborn gave a tiny gurgle and smiled.
“I think it looks great too, don’t you agree, mommy-Koro?”
He kisses your cheek again.
“Thank you so much for her. I love you, _________.”
*Ayaka – Colourful flower
He paced outside the room, unable to sit still, wringing his hands. Ever since the miscarriage two years ago, you had trouble conceiving another child. When you finally did, the pregnancy was difficult and torturous, ranging from terrible sickness to bleeding and chronic discomfort that strained you to the bone. It was a painful nine months for him to watch you suffer, and now… They had wheeled you away for surgery due to prolonged labour. Cold fear gripped him as he tried to distract himself, walking up and down the hospital corridors, glancing up at the lights over the door every few steps.
Baba was pressed against the glass, trying to get as close to the little blue bundle as possible. Amongst the other infants, the bright red face of the newborn stuck out. His son wiggled and waved the little wristband around in the air.
He was so perfect.
Unnamable emotions swelled up in Baba’s heart, knowing he would give everything he had to this tiny boy in the room without a second thought. This was his son.
“Mr Baba.” He turned at the voice and a white robed man was smiling warmly at him. “Your wife is awake. We can’t bring your son over to her yet for his health precautions, but I do encourage you to take a few photos to show her.” He pointed Baba in the right direction before congratulating him again and leaving.
Baba sat beside you on the cot, holding out his cellphone so you could browse through the pictures he had taken of your son. His other arm was wrapped around your shoulder, clutching you close to him in his relief that you were alright.
“I just went to see him.” He said proudly. “I’ll take you over when you rest up, alright, my lady?” He kissed your temple. “Thank you so much, ________.”
“He’s going to be great, being your son and all.” You whisper up at him with shining eyes.
“I just want him to be safe and strong.” Baba murmured tenderly against your ear. “And he will be. I will give anything I have to protect him.”
*Hisashi – Long lived
He was well prepared, perfectly steady as he allowed you to abuse his hand in your pain. Throughout the process, he murmured reassuring words for you and dabbed at your face with a damp towel. It was a heart-wrenching experience for him, watching you struggle through the pain for the child both of you had been so blessed to keep after the incident.
“Scared you’re going to drop Tamotsu?” You teased your husband lightly as he refused to hold your son for the Nth time.
“Of course not.” He raised his arm to his nose and sniffed his sleeve again. “I don’t know, I cleaned the shirt like four times and scrubbed and all that. I think I still smell like smoke.”
You give an amused sigh.
“All I can smell is laundry soap and raw skin, Mamo. It’s fine. He’ll be alright.”
He sat down on the edge of the cot and put an arm around you, looking down at the tiny newborn in your arms.
“It sounds really dumb, but thank you, sweetheart.” He pressed his cheek against your head. Pride and joy wove through his heart into a swirl of pure bliss in the presence of his family. “It was hard work on your side.”
“Yeah.” You respond absentmindedly, stroking Tamotsu’s face with a finger. “It was hard.”
Mamoru reached out to touch his son on the cheek, and the boy turned his head to him.
Sports Reporter Riley Matthews whole world is turned upside down when Shortstop Lucas Friar signs with the Yankees, can she keep the secrets she’s held onto for the last thirteen years, can he keep the secrets he’s held onto?
Lucas looked over at Riley as she slept, the morning was
just starting but his phone was already buzzing with messages that he had to be
at the stadium two hours earlier than planned. He knew it would be about the
Reese situation, probably a reminder that they as an organization had no
comment, not to talk to the press about it, and ignore what they would be told.
He didn’t want to deal with any of that, all he wanted to
do was stay here, holding Riley and letting her go through whatever emotions
He gently brushed the hair away from her eyes, “Hey
Riley, honey, I need to go.”
“Go Go doesn’t talk much, but somehow she gets her point across. And that girl loves moving fast. Not only that, GoGo knows every shortcut there is in the city! It’s like she has a map on her brain! Plus, she is not scared of ANYTHING.”
~from Hiro Hamada’s Journal
This is a lot of firsts for me. Because it’s the very first convention I’ve attended and this is my first “official” cosplay.
Most of these photos were taken by the end of the day so all the haggard-ness and tiredness was showing. BUT I had soooo much fun!! *whispers* Hello, cornepu. XD
Yes, I had Baymax with me. XD It was Christmas gift. <3 <3 And see the little keychain? It’s adoraaaable! I was also able to buy this super cute cellphone charm with a Chibidashi on it. >w< (If any of you guys want to see photos of my “haul”, just tell me!)
I have come to realize how I got more and more broke because of all the cute things I want to buy AUGH. ANYWAY… Hope to have more adventures in the future!
OH OH and click on the photos for random captions. TEEHEE.
Costume thrifting and haggling, hair and makeup, and photos by betsyselanoican
this pic was taken when i was in 7th grade (before cellphones). my buddy & i (girl #2) were invited to an all-girls sleepover party. i thought it’d be a great idea if all 7 girls worked their magic on us…so that we could blend in. after an hour or so… they “to wong foo’d” us. the night didn’t end there… being dressed in drag took the party to a whole new level - we played truth or dare & spin the bottle until 5/6 in the morning… to quote katy perry, “i kissed lots of girls and i liked it.” so… why am i sharing this with you?
because prince died today. you see… we were singing & dancing to prince that night. it was so much fun… it was so beautiful. every time i hear his music… i think back to that night. his music… and who he was… changed my life. he really helped me get out of my comfort zone early on in life… and for that… i’ve been rewarded handsomely. there a lot of things we don’t do b/c we’re scared people might judge us. the fear of rejection… is what kills beautiful memories/experiences… it kills growth… it prevents us from going places we know we should be going… if it weren’t for prince… this moment… and so many others like it… would not have existed. who knows… i’d probably be a closed-minded jerk. this is for you… thank you prince. i love you ~rob p.s. here are some quotes i found on the web: “Prince is the father of so many styles. A true creative genius. A musical mastermind. One of the greatest performers of all time.” - Blake Anderson “Prince would FUNK the shit out of you, body your favorite guitarist, dress like a chick with his buttcheeks OUT, and steal your girl.” - Blake Anderson
To my new *super fun* coworker- I’ve been “working” retail in one form or another since I was 7 years old. I know customer service and I know how to make people happy and how to make them buy whatever I put in front of them. Just because I just started working at your location does not mean you have to (literally) hold my hand through talking to a customer. (Yes literally, she “guided” my hands like the pottery scene in ‘Ghost’ while I was typing.)
All that being said, I do have anxiety issues and I’ve only been with this company for two months and this store for a week. We only have one working computer and you somehow seem to hog up the register and do absolutely nothing at the same time. Because of your sloth-like behavior we form a line and I get nervous. When I get nervous my voice gets higher and even though I feel good and in control, my voice betrays me. I do not need you to stop me while I’m talking to a customer and point it out to me. You aren’t “doing me a favor”, you’re embarrassing me in front of a customer and making my voice even higher because you mentioned it.
Because you were “helping” me, I reported all your wrong doings to the Boss. All of your personal phone calls from the business phone have been logged and timed, everytime you’ve taken a call on your cellphone while on the clock has been noted, telling people their mail over the phone (actually illegal), everything. Good thing you hate this job so much because the Boss was f**king pissed.
An Open Letter to What Were the Mystic Messenger Petitioners...
Just a post to explain what goes on behind a permaban situation from a companies point of view.
Hopefully this can help explain things for some people. If you have more questions, my ask is always open. I could be opening myself up for a world of hurt here but everything else I’ve made until now has been ignored anyway so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
First of all I’d like to thank the original poster of the petition for taking it down. She explained on Instagram also, but since in the Terms of Agreement it states Cheritz can take action for abuse, they obviously had every right to, and a petition directly against the terms of service she’s agreed to does leave her liable for her actions.
Being one of the users who did report it back when it was still “Lift the ban” I can take the educated guess that the counter petition is also an action that was taken by suggestion per Change.org. They suggested a counter petition to those who did report.
The following is based off my knowledge of social cellphone games from my experiences working at similar companies. I am not working for Cheritz and I do not claim to be making this post for them. This is just the method of which I know would be followed in my experience.
Those of you who were wrongfully banned, contact Cheritz via the help tab in game. The banning process in a small gaming company is a largely human resource based, mistakes are bound to happen. (If they did this by machine, I need to find and offer that engineer a big fat paycheck to come to my company.)
Some major points:
Your account has not been deleted. Cheritz needs a way of identifying you specifically. That is your account *most likely the email you used to sign up*. They can’t use your phone because those are commodities that can be sold to other potential users. They have basically told their system: hey this specific person *insert email* isn’t allowed access to the game anymore! And the system has a list of those emails or User IDs stored in a little bad boys and girls corner. If this is email based, using another email shall allow you to start all over from scratch if you’re insanely desperate and swear never to cheat again. I wouldn’t recommend sending in a request for data transfers or anything, even if that was a feasible thing, you’d basically be telling the system to put you back into the little bad boys and girls corner. You’ve lost access to that data if you’ve abused the game, you’re gonna have to let it go and start from new.
Why can’t they just switch from a permaban to a softban? Well first of all: they’ve probably only developed the system for a permaban. Softbans take more work and more maintenance. You have to set it so it will allow access after x amount of days or hours and then you have to continue to monitor the user to see if there is future abuse. Overall softbans are a pain honestly. Permaban: Someone manually had to go through or had to make a program to detect the time travel abuse ect. Then a human has to confirm it. Then add your account to a ban list. Then it’s over. Softban: same process but then the system will give you access back later. Then the system has to continue checking the same user again. If there is abuse, again the human confirmation. Then they’d have to have a separate list for permaban. Even if now would be the most convenient time to make this kind of move, I think it’s pretty obvious how much more they’d be losing in time for customer service and confirmation of these.
But I’m a busy person who doesn’t have time to read all these chats all the time. Do it when you have time. Games are this funny thing, they’re made to make you work to gain things. This is not something that is unique to MM. In RPGs you learn the system and how to fight. MM’s system is the challenge of do I sacrifice sleep because I have to have my 100% completion? Or should I sacrifice a little cash because I want 100% completion? You don’t have to have 100% to get the good ending. I’ve had things in the 30s and I’ve still gotten the good ending. Being a student is no excuse. Being a working class citizen is no excuse. If you DEMAND 100% then you sacrifice for 100%. To use other otome games for example, even free to play models give you the option of premium or regular stories at certain breaks in the game. If you think the story you get when you pay and the story you get when you work to build up your in game items stats is the same, you are sadly mistaken. Those who pay end up with a “better” story. They wouldn’t bother making the options otherwise.
I would add more but this post is a monster already. Anyone else interested in specific questions, I’d be happy to assist more from my ask. These were just some of the major complaints I saw as I was reading through.
I don’t think the original poster of the petition had any I’ll intentions with her post, I know a permaban out of nowhere does seem harsh but I’m pretty sure having the time to search and confirm the users played a huge factor in when it finally got implemented. Feedback on things like these help me when I’m producing and localizing games like this so I’m more than willing to hear everyone’s opinion. I hope this helps some users understand why it was a permaban and why it came quick and out of nowhere.
HENRY ROLLINS: I GOT AN HONORARY DEGREE, WHICH IS HILARIOUS
Last year, I was given the Ray Bradbury Creativity Award by Woodbury University in Burbank. I went, accepted the award from the university’s president, addressed faculty and staff, and shook a lot of hands.
As I was about to leave, the president asked if I would deliver the commencement address to the graduating class of 2015. I said yes.
Weeks before graduation day, May 10, I started preparing. I tried to imagine what it would be like to go out into the adult world today with a degree — an interesting proposition, and potentially a disappointing one.
I recently got a letter from a young man with a degree who works at a popular grocery chain. It’s not what he trained for. He’s frustrated, but beyond that, he’s scared.
As I started drafting the speech, I wondered what a college graduate might think was going to happen and what they were prepared for after leaving campus and entering a highly competitive working world.
I thought about what a commitment a college degree must be. You’re putting thousands of dollars, years of work and a lot of expectation into an extremely uncertain environment. I tried to find something I had committed to in my life with that much risk and couldn’t find anything close.
To take a shot at college — to not only believe in yourself but to believe that there will be economic stability and employment opportunities waiting for you — is to really put a lot on the line. Blocking out the “you’ll never make it” whispers that must assail some students takes courage.
I went to high school to get it over with, never once considering what I would do when I hit the real world. For the last 30-plus years, my life has been a prolonged ricochet, bouncing from one thing to another — moving, but not always with a great deal of calculation. This has made for some interesting-to-awful situations. So far, the former has edged out the latter.
As a younger person, the concept of “a career” was alien to me. It seemed to go with banker or sales executive, those paths you might take in hopes of a comfortable, event-free life. It was like setting the A and Z in your life and then spending the rest of your time walking from one to the other, with almost every step choreographed.
I see now that a lot can happen along the way and that a plan isn’t the worst thing to have. It’s not for me, but I am unable to put it down as I used to. I feel quite the opposite at this point. I think it takes a lot of integrity to define your future and go for it.
Suddenly, it was the night before graduation day. I went over my short speech again and again. Too hopey changey? Too “back in my day, we…” for people who never knew a world without cellphones?
But I liked what I had written and decided to stick with it.
The next day I was up at 0600 hrs. to be on campus at 0745 hrs. As I approached the university, there were cops, road cones and what looked like music-festival traffic. It took me a moment to realize that it was for the event. All my preshow adrenaline kicked in.
I was taken to a holding area where I met Woodbury’s new president, David P. Dauwalder, as well as professors from different departments. After that, I went into the room where the caps and gowns were and suited up.
Soon I was in line behind the president, walking to the stage. I looked out and saw all the students and, beyond them, a sea of parents and others. I immediately went into production mode. What kind of mics, where are the monitors, where is that buzz coming from, are we under a flight path?
The president opened the proceedings and brought the first of three students to the stage to speak. One of them, a girl who had come from Sri Lanka to attend, barely looked at her notes as she spoke about the dream she’d had since she was young to get a great education, and how she had come here to do it. She was fantastic. If the future is full of people like her, things are going to be great.
Minutes later I was up there speechifying. The university asked for seven to 12 minutes, so I kept it brief. The note that ran through the 1,300 or so words was that this is the century that determines all the others that follow, and young, innovative, curious people like them will be the ones who shape it. I said that I hoped they would solve problems, not accept them, and that they would always see their progress in the progress of others.
After I finished, I was given an honorary degree, which is hilarious considering what an appalling student I was. Then the best part of the whole thing started, and it was quite a lesson. The graduates were called to the stage, got their certificates, took a photo with the president and exited. More than 400 students of an incredibly wide ethnic demographic passed by me and I got a read on the future.
The world outside of America is getting smart and doing it quickly. These young people are decisively and ambitiously grabbing the moment and will absolutely be defining the future. Meanwhile, we are having cave-drawing arguments about two men getting married and heaping layers of fear-based ignorance on the good work of scientists, as we pull back into the comfort of our brutal past.
In a few hours, I got a clear picture of where things are headed. Stay exceptional!
Notes/Warnings: Thank you to everyone for all the support- I really appreciate the encouragement. No real warnings here, same stuff as before. Some mild gore, language, and other Avengers. Also, I think I may have one or two more chapters after this, but I doubt any more than that.
It had been only three days since the attack of Loki, and the invasion. Time had seemed to move slowly, almost at a crawl. The city was obviously devastated, though they were slowly rebuilding. Sophie had started to write off Tony mentioning that they might need her again, figuring that they had taken care of themselves. That was until she got off work one day, and her cellphone rang. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID, arching an eyebrow. “Tony Stark? How the hell does it say that? He is /definitely/ not in my phone contacts.” She said. Then figuring she had nothing else to lose, she pushed the button and pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello, Sophie Brannon speaking,” There was no way he was calling just for fun, and she was right about that.