this was on the day they shot the country house video

A good friend of mine was diagnosed with liver cancer when we were in high school. She was 16. Some time later, upon hearing that a surgery had not gone as well as hoped, I sat down with my guitar and wrote her a song. A few other good friends of hers strung together some photographs to make a music video and we sent it to her to watch from her hospital bed. When those same friends gathered together less than two years later to sing the song at her funeral, the dissonance was jarring. This was meant to be a work song, to see her through the hard days when the task of healing was tiring. It was not supposed to be a funeral hymn.

In June of 2015, we as a band decided that our LGBTQ community deserved a new song for Pride Week. This was days after the Supreme Court ruled that state-level bans on same-sex marriages were in violation of the Constitution of the United States, and it felt like the whole country was celebrating.

But as we began to write, I couldn’t help but think that although we had won this particular battle, the hatred and fear ailing our nation seemed as malignant as ever.

I knew this because people were still dying.

At least 21 transgender women were murdered in 2015. A disproportionate percent of our country’s homeless youth were (and are) LGBTQ adolescents, forced to reckon with the impossible task of staying healthy and safe without a home or proper health care.

We knew that if we were to make a song that truly spoke to the American LGBTQ community in 2015, it would need to address both victory and violence.

With “I Know a Place,” we chose to imagine a place where none of us would need to be afraid. In honor of Pride and the rich LGBTQ history of turning bars and ballrooms into safe havens, the space we imagined was a dance club:

I can tell when you get nervous
You think being yourself means being unworthy
And it’s hard to love with a heart that’s hurting
But if you want to go out dancing
I know a place
I know a place we can go
Where everyone’s gonna lay down their weapons

At the time, we intended the dance club to serve as a metaphor. Then, on June 12th, 2016, a gunman walked into Latin Night at Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, Florida — a queer space, a brown space, a safe space — and shot 49 people to death.

“I Know a Place” was never supposed to be a funeral hymn. It was meant to be a work song, like Yoko Ono’s full-page ad in the New York Times that proclaimed, “War Is Over!” in December of 1969, at the height of the Vietnam War. We wrote our song to be the voice in your head that tells you to celebrate peace during wartime, because our battle is only just beginning, and one day our war really will be over.

It was also meant to serve as encouragement for our community to remain vulnerable and kind and hopeful in the face of violence. We cannot build a better world without first imagining what that world might look like, and by creating that space inside ourselves first.

After the Pulse shooting, the Los Angeles Gay Men’s Chorus led a crowd of two thousand people outside City Hall in song:

We are a gentle, angry people
And we are singing
Singing for our lives

We sang with a unified voice that cried out, “We do not accept that this is what our world will look like.” And that night, people all over the country went out dancing — not just because it was Pride Weekend, but because they felt it important not to give in to fear in the face of hate.

People came together in dive bars, bedrooms, and places of worship to celebrate and to grieve, to love and protect one another, and this gentle resilience was nothing less than radical resistance.

Today, in this post-Trump America, many of us feel badly bruised. We, as a band, understand this. We believe it is a mistake to see this incoming Administration as anything other than a threat to the livelihood of our brothers and sisters; the LGBTQ+ community, the Muslim ummah, women, POC’s, indigenous Americans, undocumented people, the working class, and beyond. At the same time, we believe it is a mistake to say that a man whose best assets are hate and fear truly represents America. We say this because America has always been an idea, a utopian concept of a multiethnic, multicultural democratic republic, and therefore its home lies in the imagination, not in the House or the Senate or in a Trump Tower. In the bridge of the song, we implore:

They will try to make you unhappy; don’t let them
They will try to tell you you’re not free; don’t listen
I know a place where you don’t need protection
Even if it’s only in my imagination

Let us push ourselves to imagine a peaceful America where no one has to live in fear. Let us continue to build spaces with our humble means that reflect the America of which we dream. Let us keep up the fight.

Let us keep singing for our lives.

ー Katie Gavin, MUNA

Things People Have Said in my APUSH Class

- Who put the map on the back of The Declaration of Independence?

- People marrying for money seems to be a recurring theme in this class.

- I bought this Donald Trump shirt as a joke because I’m moving to New Zealand and I can watch the failure from outside the country, but I had to donate money to his campaign and it ended up costing me about $60.

- Is Pocahontas real?

- John Francis Fitzgerald is Edmund Fitzgerald’s grandpa.

- You know it, you love it, you smell it on the way to Chicago, that’s right kids, Gary, Indiana.

- Did Abraham Lincoln get shot because he revealed the location of The Book of Secrets?

- One time I saw Nicholas Cage at a parade and now we’re friends.

- The musket is a terrible weapon, Mel Gibson is a liar, and The Patriot is not a good movie.

- What do you mean New York City is on an Island?

- Someone on Tumblr sent me anon hate because I called Thomas Jefferson bae in the tags. (side note: I sent that person anon hate about Jefferson)

- Maybe Aaron Burr can shoot me instead so I don’t have to take the final.

- Can John D. Rockefeller pay for the textbook I may or may not have lost?

- Teacher: (describing an affair without saying they were fucking) They were getting to know each other in the biblical sense.

Student: What religion were they practicing?

Teacher: Baptist.

- Student: Why isn’t Lincoln on any paper money?

Teacher: He’s traditionally on the five…

- The Americans won the Revolution because they hid in the woods… like squirrels…

- Mrs. Lincoln was a female dog.

- Folks, watching the John Green videos is not enough.

- When you graduate high school you will not remember anything from The Missouri Compromise. What you will remember is “Ma, Ma, Where’s my Pa, Gone to the White House, Ha, Ha, Ha.”

- Here are the three presidents I would fight, in order: Woodrow Wilson, Thomas Jefferson, and James Buchanan.

- And Hamilton was so pleased with himself that his bonds plan was being used yet again, so he rose from the dead, wrote a musical, and won a grammy

- If you’re..uh… sensitive.. leave now. *pulls out a copy of The Jungle*

- Student #1: He’s the richest man in the world! He sleeps on a bed of gold!

Student #2: Carson, are you telling me you don’t sleep on a bed of gold?

- Everyone from the Democratic Party wanted this nomination. Even William Jennings Bryan wanted it, and he’s dead.

- And then part of the tape was (air quotes) “ accidently” erased. *teacher aggresivley shakes his head*

- You will need to acquire, either by theft or by asking, a credit card to pay for the AP exam

- I just read an essay that compared the New Deal to Wilson’s actions during the Civil War. And it was one paragraph. Good luck on the AP everyone.

- Teacher: The AP is in 5 days. It’s time to panic.

Student: I thought it was time to panic 15 days ago.

Teacher: Some people didn’t get the message. Now it’s really time to panic.

- So is there like… a meal included in the $90 exam?

First Time.

Requests are open.

Summary: Yours and Shawn’s daughter Lydia gets her first period and you’re not there to help her.

You and Shawn had four kids together, three boys Noah, Elijah and Carter and eventually the two of you got the little baby girl that you had wanted from the start, Lydia Mary Mendes. She was beautiful. Tan skin just like you, Brown eyes from Shawn and you both knew that Lydia was going to be a heartthrob.

However, you also knew that the day would come where Lydia would experience something that every girl went through, you just didn’t expect that you would be in a completely different country doing a summer-ball performance. You knew that if it happened and you weren’t here she would hopefully handle it just fine, Lydia has her head screwed on straight and she’s a smart girl.

That night Lydia found out that she had started her period and her feelings were quickly split into two parts. The first part of her was relieved that she had gotten her period at home and not at a friends’ house or out in public. The other part of her was mad because you weren’t here to help her, and you promised her that you would be here when it happened.

Lydia quickly grabbed her phone and tried to call you. She called you three times, but you didn’t answer. She ran up to your ensuite and rustled through the draws and cupboard under the sink, but to no avail, she couldn’t find your pads anywhere. You had taken all of your pads to California with you because you knew you were due sometime that week and you had to be prepared. It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t know she was going to start her period the exact week you weren’t there.

Lydia had seen enough videos on YouTube to know that if she didn’t get a pad soon, she would begin to leak and if anything, remotely embarrassing happens to Lydia she wants to crawl into a ball and let the ground swallow her whole. Tears soon rose to her eyes and she began to tap her foot on the tiled ground. She knew she had to tell Shawn.

She slowly made her way down stairs to see Shawn with Carter. Carter was talking to Shawn about watercolour paints and the effects that they can have on the artwork. Carter was a phenomenal artist, you and Shawn had no idea where the talent came from because neither of you had no talent in the art department, disregarding singing and acting of course.

“Dad,” Lydia’s voice came out small.

Shawn turned around to see Lydia with her hands behind her back, tears staining her face and her feet shuffling. He could tell that something was wrong, he stood up immediately walking over to her. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He placed a hand on her back.

“Can I talk to you quickly?” She asked, her eyes meeting her brother’s briefly, “Alone.”

“Yeah, sure” The two of them made their ways up the stairs and into Lydia’s bedroom, the fairy lights hadn’t changed since she was born, “What’s going on?” Shawn asked again, determined to find out what has brought his daughter to tears.

“I um- I’ve” Lydia’s eyes darting around her room, too scared to let the words leave her mouth, “I started my period and I uh- don’t know where mom keeps everything” Her voice nasally from crying.

“That’s what’s wrong?” Shawn asked, not phased at all, “Baby, that’s nothing to worry about. Did you check my bathroom?” Shawn asked her.

“Yeah,” Even with Shawn’s chill reaction Lydia still felt as if she had something to be ashamed of.

“Okay, you and I will leave Carter here and we can go pick some stuff up, okay?” Shawn asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Lydia nodded. Shawn laughed, bringing her into a tight hug like he would for you whenever you were sad or embarrassed about anything. It was one of his favourite things to do, hug you. You had a calming effect on Shawn and he was hoping he could have the same effect on his daughter right now because you weren’t here. In that moment Lydia knew that she had one of the best dads ever, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

A/N - Hope you like it, I’m trying to lengthen up my writings a little bit. I’m a sucker for some Dad!Shawn. Requests are open, so hit me up, guys.


Rating:  PG
Author: @kateyes224
Category:  MSR
Summary:  Something I didn’t think I was capable of.  Complete and utter MSR fluff.  The equivalent of Shipper cotton candy.  Or maybe lemon meringue?
A/N:  For an anon who asked me the following, and got me to thinking…Is Scully romantic in nature? We all know she’d die for Mulder but what trivial things does she do for romance?

They don’t sext.  

Never have, never will.  If either of them groped for a justification for this dearth of visual piquancy in their relationship, both would demur that at any given point during the past twenty-five years, any and all of their phone lines, land, cellular, or satellite, and all of their internet connections and servers, had likely been bugged.  

And as any conspiracy nut will tell you, being surveilled tends to put a damper on displays of affection, both public and private.  

Mulder had managed to quell his seemingly voracious sexual appetite early on, monasticized by her sudden, austere presence in his basement office and in his life.  After their few first years together, he appeared to be quite willing to forego the pleasures his magazines and videos had previously sated.  If he recognized that he was sexually unfulfilled, he chalked it up as a win in light of the fact that he was being intellectually nourished as never before.  

Intercourse, he figured, could wait, at least until she was good and ready.  

Besides, Scully had always had a rather demure, dignified sort of sexiness about her.  She wasn’t often wanton.  She wasn’t a screamer.  

She most certainly didn’t sext.

So the first time it happened, when she was going on hour 43 of a two-day on-call stint, Mulder figured she must have accidentally snapped a photo of some indiscriminate countertop somewhere in the hospital.  A pale formica or porcelain surface speckled with smudges left behind by some errant janitor.  But the following text message had him scratching his head:

Guess correctly and you get a prize.

Scully said nothing about it when she came home the following morning and crawled into bed at oh-dark-thirty.  Mulder figured it must have been a mistake, an accidental butt shot, perhaps.  She’d butt-dialed him before.  An incidental photo wasn’t that far-fetched.  He curled himself around her and fell back asleep, forgetting the whole thing.

A few weeks went by, and April slipped quietly into May.  The sun finally decided to come out after a long, hard winter, and spring exploded in Virginia in earnest, giving Mulder ample opportunity to clear and refertilize the garden boxes behind the house.  

One sunny Sunday afternoon found the two of them kneeling side by side in the garden palming delicate, bright green seedlings that would yield squash and corn and cherry tomatoes by the hundreds into the loamy earth.

Mulder glanced over and offhandedly remarked that she’d forgotten to wear the wide-brim hat that shielded not only her face but the slim bones of her shoulders from the sun.  Her skin was flushed pink and dusted with cinnamon freckles he knew for a fact hadn’t been there when she’d crawled out of bed that morning. She’d rolled her eyes and muttered something about a bottle of aloe vera he could make use of, later, if need be.

And, indeed, he’d concentrated on mapping each and every new freckle that had appeared that night, kissing his way over and across her body and putting that eidetic memory to good use.  

Memorizing her has by far been the most generous and worthy exercise of this talent.

When next his cell phone buzzed, it was just after ten in the morning the very next day.  This time, the photo that accompanied the text was a bit more clear, but the message itself still hazy and difficult to read.  

I’ll understand if you don’t recognize these.  They’re new.

The image is, yet again, the same paleish pink backdrop and the focus is distractedly blurred of the splotches that mar whatever surface she’s photographed.  

Mulder scratches his head, confused.  

When he texts her back with, Do you need me to pick something up at the store?, she immediately responds with, No, just tell me where these are.  If you’re right, you’ll get something extra special tonight.

Mulder studies the image for hours.  He brings up maps of the United States and the world, hoping he’ll recognize the spots for cities or countries or UFO sightings.  He brings up images of the stars, charts of constellations and ancient maritime navigational methods.  Nothing matches.

He’s settled onto the couch with a beer to watch the ball game and wait for her to come home when it hits him.  He can remember three of the seven spots he’d seen from a moment years before, when he’d wrapped himself around her and nestled his nose into her hair and murmured words into the pulse point behind her ear.  He’d made a study of that precious few inches of skin, her neck and her jawline and her ear lobe, and knew for certain that there was a beauty mark hiding just under the line of her lower mandible.

He grabs his phone and texts back, his thumbs typing away at a speed he didn’t know he was capable of.  

Your neck, just under your left ear.  I’ve kissed that spot enough times to know it by heart.

A few seconds for her to respond, but when his phone buzzes, he smiles at her message back.  It’s just an emoji, the smiley face one with heart eyes.  

That night, after dinner, she climbs on top of him on the couch and kisses him breathless, riding him until he’s sure he won’t be able to walk right for days.

It becomes a favorite game they play, on the nights and early mornings when she’s working past the point of exhaustion and he’s missing her so badly it physically pains him.  

She’ll text him a picture of some cluster of freckles or a lone beauty mark somewhere on her body, and he’ll rack his brain to remember precisely where it is.

Sometimes it takes him a few guesses, especially during those summer months when her skin seems to tan the remembered landmarks into oblivion as the freckles join forces in dense clusters on her shoulders and chest.  

By the time winter rolls around, it only takes him seconds to respond to the cryptic pictures she sends him.  

He saves them all, and to this day he can pull them up on his phone and recite from memory where each one is on her body.


Summary: Based on this anon request-

do you think you could do a request on a character that has teleportation powers for some reason? like they were just born w them and the team/nick fury literally can’t find her until they set bucky on her, ensuing a cute lil relationship between them?? thank you if you can!!

Bucky x reader, FLUFFA LIL BIT ANGSTY, Word count: 3,636

TW: Bucky sneaks into your apartment through your window

A/N: Sorry this request took so long, anon! I tweaked it a little so the reader wasn’t exactly born with powers- it made the story flow a little better I think. I really like how this turned out though–I hope you do too!!!

Your name: submit What is this?

“Dammit, Natasha! Stop lying! Stuff keeps going missing off my desk and my hunch is that Fury has you stealing it, isn’t that right Nick?” said Steve, clearly irritated with the situation.

“I swear I’m not taking your shit Rogers. Just because you can’t keep track of your stuff doesn’t mean I took it. I highly doubt Nick has anything to do with it either,” hissed Natasha.

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The Contest-Part 17

To celebrate Supernatural’s 15th season, the producers have decided to hold a contest to cast an unknown in a recurring role as Sam’s rumored love interest.  They are doing open casting calls all over the country.  Your best friend Nikki wants to go and she drags you along.

A/N: My inspiration for Nikki is the one and only red, @oriona75.  So I am actually telling two stories here, Jared and Readers, and Sam and Gemini’s.  It flips back and forth, so try and keep up! :)

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Best friend Nikki(OC) Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, PA Emily (OC) Cliff, Other Supernatural cast and crew

Master List

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Jared, Jensen and I flew back to Vancouver the night before shooting resumed for the second half of the season.  I was still reeling from my conversation with Nikki.  

She had texted me while we were in the airport.  

I’m back.  I’m at Misha’s.  Come find me.

As soon as the three of us got in we tossed our stuff in Jared’s apartment and headed over to Misha’s.  I knocked on the door impatiently.  When Nikki opened it, I launched myself at her.  “What the hell Nikki!  Are you trying to kill me?”

“Believe me, we are just as surprised as you.” She assured me.

“I am still trying to wrap my head around the idea of an even smaller version of you.” Jensen said as he gave her a hug.

When Misha came out of the kitchen I grinned at him.  “The idea of a person who is half you and half Nikki terrifies me frankly.”

“I hope it’s a redhead.” Misha said.

“Does your Mom know?” I asked Nikki.

“She is over the goddamn moon! It was all I could do to stop her from coming out here immediately.” Nik said with a groan.

“Oh before I forget, Y/N, I got an email from Andrew Dabb.  He and Bob want to meet with you at 1 PM tomorrow.” 

“Maybe they are going to finally tell me how Gemini exits in a blaze of glory?” I joked.

“Probably saving Sam’s sorry ass!” Jensen commented as Jared punched him.

“Hey, I’m Sam-fucking Winchester! I don’t need saving!” Jared said indignantly.

I smiled sadly at Nikki.  “I guess it’s the beginning of the end.”

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Originally posted by wonhontology

If you were to ask Kihyun about Changkyun, he would tell you that the boy was his best friend. They were really close in their youth; they were closer to each other than anyone else. They were sweet, and caring, but troublesome. They spent their time in school pranking other students and teachers, going unsuspected, and in their homes they’d play video games until their mothers told the other it was time to go home.

Their world was so small. Their back gardens were as big as countries. They’d play with wooden swords in the back garden, or perhaps in Changkyun’s tree house, pretending and imagining from the depths of their imagination. Sometimes they’d stay there, hiding, watching the stars from the window and placing wishes upon those that shot across the sky.

But everything has an expiration date, and for the two of them, it was at the moment Changkyun’s father accepted a job offer in Boston. Changkyun had protested, cried and rebelled. But nothing would change his fate. He was moving to America, and no amount of begging would let him stay.

Kihyun remembers Changkyun’s final night in Korea. They lay in the treehouse, looking up at the stars, trying to hold back the tears they both had riding in their eyes.

“This time tomorrow I’ll be in my new home, lying in my bed. But it’s not home, because you’re not there.”

And then, by morning, he was gone. Kihyun had been so angry, so upset. Not at Changkyun, no; he was never angry at Changkyun. He was angry at the world. Because he didn’t just lose Changkyun that day. He lost his world. His world stretched around the globe and he was aware of reality. Things aren’t all good in this world, some things are bad, and pain is inevitable.

But he’s much older now, and Changkyun was his childhood. Now, he stands on university grounds, he can proudly say that he studies his passion and loves his new friends that he’s surrounded by. Changkyun is almost a distant memory, until the moment he steps back into Kihyun’s life.

It’s like reality hasn’t quite caught up to Kihyun.

Changkyun looks so much different.

His walk is effortless, what once was clumsy steps was strides of confidence. Everything about his body was built and strong, nothing like the memory Kihyun had of the boy that was so small he looked as though the could be broken with a single hit.

Stunning came to mind, and beautiful. Kihyun couldn’t get his head around the complexities of Changkyun’s eyes, or how a checked shirt could look so good.

The years had certainly been very kind to his friend.

“Changkyun!” He burst, unable to control himself. He ignored the confused stares that people gave him. He ignored the erratic thump in his chest. He ignored the way he was feeling for someone he had lost so long ago.

Changkyun paused, and for one horrible moment, Kihyun feared Changkyun wouldn’t know who he was.

“Kihyun, is that you?”

And the rest was history.

YOUR HEART WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AFTER READING THIS!! "I walked up the stairs along with my daughter Nour in the poorly lit corridor. I entered the room shyly and in broken Arabic greeted all the sisters in the room. A family in this Syrian village had invited me for dinner and I looked forward to such invites. Not only because I finally got to eat well-prepared food but also because I met new sisters in such gatherings. Some of these sisters and their stories in this war-ravaged country astonished me, and some ingrained themselves in me, forever changing me. After we had eaten, a sister brought in a frail man and gently sat him against the cushions on the wall. I was struck by the noor emanating from the sister’s face. I stared at her in wonderment of why her face lit like a bright light. The brother had a white beard humbling resting on his face and the softness of his face resembled that of a child. She fed him soup, and he barely moving, swallowed slowly. I assumed that this must be her frail father she is taking care of, though he looked too young to be her father. When I got home, I couldn’t forget the sister and the brother. Coincidently, I found myself at her house few weeks later as we were passing through the village. I noticed the brother again in her house. “Umm Muhammad, who is he, the one you take care of?” “He is my husband. He wasn’t always like that. In the 80’s my husband was part of Muslim Brotherhood, he was an active da’ee and a hafidh al Qu’ran. When Bashar’s father released his relentless force against the Muslims in Hama, my husband was arrested. I was left with three young children. For nearly a decade, I had no idea if he was alive or dead. She continued. "One day, he was home. Just like that. But he had been tortured severely, he was beaten ruthlessly, electrocuted, and made to endure all sorts of psychological torture during his time in detention. Even though a year after his release, I was blessed with a son- his health started deteriorating every year. And today, he has lost all normal function. He doesn’t remember his children, he doesn’t speak at all, and he can barely comprehend anything around him. So I feed, bathe and take care of him as a child” I couldn’t believe how much this sister had borne. A decade without a husband, and now have lost her home, her wealth and are refugees on the border of the country. Though her husband is now finally with her, he is not her companion in the loss and pain this war has brought her family. He can’t help her or their children nor even comfort her. “SubhanAllaah, sister, how did you manage all these years?” “I chose Quran, the words of Allaah to accompany me. I read Quran every single day, each day increasing in the amount I read. I found a teacher to teach me tajweed. And subhanAllah by the time my husband was released, I had memorised the whole Quraan and had raised our three children in his absence” She got up to head for the kitchen and prepare the afternoon meal. I heard her reciting Quraan the entire time. She brought a tray of rice and soup. After we ate, I asked her more questions about her life. “My 16 year old was shaheed few months ago. The son that was born after my husband’s release” She said this with a smile and you could not find misery in any corner of her eyes. “Would you like to see what happened to him? They caught it on video” She pulled a laptop and searched his name on YouTube. She showed me the picture she took of him on the day he went out for the protest. In the video a young masked man is seen dragging an injured man on the street. But as soon as he brings the man to safety, he is shot and falls flat on the pavement. Her son was killed saving another. As this mother watched the video of her son getting shot, she did not wince, nor tear up. Rather she smiled, as if watching the moment she was given an award. “Does your husband understand that his son is now killed?” “No, he has no understanding. I buried my son and sat in his grave and asked Allaah to remove all grief in my heart and He did.” This is why this mother’s face endeared me to her. Her patience, her tawakkul in Allaah, her love for the Quraan and her struggle and sacrifice in the path of Allah was inspiring. “There is one time though, my husband does speak” “Oh, when is that?” “I recite all day, reviewing a juz or two a day. No matter where in the house, I am reciting- if I make a mistake, he speaks up and corrects it.” I felt hair on my arms stand up in amazement of their faith. These are the sisters in war that we do not hear of. We hear of misery and pain but we rarely hear of the sisters who are backbone of resistance, who are an inspiration not just to other women but to the men in their path." - Aasiya Victoria Walling
Shame/Less 4/7

A/N: No, I don’t normally post everything at once like this, normally I’d be posting a part a day or so, but I’m going to use this to attempt to make a new masterlist for myself, so you guys get it all at once. 

“Hey… can I come in?”

           You jumped at the sultry voice outside your door, dragged out of your self-pitying reverie.

           “Ah… Omega? Miss?”

           “I have a name,” you spat.

           “I know, but you haven’t told me, doll.” You could almost hear the smirk in the Alpha’s words.

           “What do you want?”

           “To see if you’re okay.”

           You sighed. “I guess you can come in… since you asked.”

           The door creaked open and Bucky the Alpha came in, looking surprisingly timid, holding a plastic bag from the grocery store in one hand. For the first time, you got a good long look at him, and were unable to stop yourself from staring. Now you could concentrate on that jawline, the scruff on his face and neck, the long brown hair, neat and clean now, and those unique, gorgeous eyes. He was wearing tight jeans and a red henley with the left sleeve rolled up, revealing an arm made of metal.

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Juicy Christmas

One shot. Juice/reader. Fluffy comedy. Probably not my best. But enjoy. I pictured my mom and grandma’s accents. And how loud my family can be around the holidays. 😁

Noche Buena/Christmas eve. It’s typical for the Christmas celebration start on this night. Some exchange presents this night. It’s literal translation is Good Night.

Mi Hija (Me eeha) is Spanish for my daughter. It’s usually shortened to Mija (Pronounced “Meeha”

Jugo (hoogo) is the Spanish word for juice. Yes like the drink.

Coquito (Co-kee-toe) is Puerto rican coconut spiced rum eggnog.

Spanglish is a when we mix English and Spanish into the same sentences and speech.

Abuela (ah-boo-ella) is Spanish for Grandmother.

It had been almost a year now that you had been dating Juan “Juice” Ortiz and it had been an amazing wild ride. He was smart. Sweet. Sexy. And he was crazy about you. You had become super close to him and his friends in the MC. They treated you like their sister and protected you with their lives. Juice treated you like his queen. You had tons of things in common. You both loved computers and gadgets. You both played video games. You both were Puerto Rican although you actually were fluent and he understood a bit but couldn’t speak it. It drove him wild with desire when he heard you speak Spanish on the phone. Phone calls to your family usually led to him lifting you over his shoulder and taking you to bed right then and there. All in all everything was a fairy tale. There was only one thing you were stalling about. Meeting your family. You loved your family with all your heart. But you knew they were a bit much to some people. Well. To most non Hispanics. But the date was coming and you were trying to avoid thinking about it.

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title: one step at a time

rating: t

pairing: Cana Alberona/Kagura Mikazuchi 

summary: prevention is preferable to cure - Cana knows all about prevention, but she doesn’t know a damn thing about cures (she’s learning, though, one stepnightmaredream at a time).

note 1: @rivendell101 and I decided to do a bit of a fic swap.  Post-nightmare cuddles (ish) and we’d assign each other the ships.  I’ve never actually written for these two, either as a pairing or as people in fics, so this was a fun challenge! Hope I did it some justice.

note 2: I abuse italics, what else is new?

Cana doesn’t deal with nightmares.

She’s read the all the articles, with their big words and solemn stock photos, and listens to her guild-mates when they talk about what they did the night before when they woke up in tears (went to a friends house, exercised until they dropped dead in exhaustion, read a book, cuddled up to their lover, watched stupid videos online), and if there’s one thing she’s learned through all this, it’s that people are good at recovering from this shit but ask anyone and they can never tell you how to prevent them.  

Cana’s surefire nightmare-stopper is not one she’ll ever recommend to anyone because it’s not healthy, but she vividly remembers losing any fucks to give about that somewhere between her first beer ever and watching Gildartz take Lisanna and Natsu out for ice cream way back when.  The wine that has slowly become a part of her bloodstream lulls her to a sleep so deep that even if she does have a bad dream, it doesn’t register.  On bad nights (the anniversaries of mom’s death, Tenrou, the Dragon Festival, and her birth, in that order) she takes out her insurance policy - overpriced bourbon she spends all year saving up for - and knocks back a couple shots, just to be sure.  It’s a tried and true method that’s worked for years and she’s not inclined to change it anytime soon.

Some nights, Cana wishes she did learn to deal with this shit properly because she doesn’t have a damn clue what to do when Kagura has them.  In her defense, though, Kagura doesn’t do nightmares conventionally; there’s never any screaming or jerking awake or tears or falling off the bed or vomiting or whatever the hell else nightmares culminate in.  Cana can deal with that (she thinks, anyway).  Kagura just tenses so violently in her sleep that sometimes Cana is afraid that she’ll sustain muscle damage if she doesn’t relax.  

Cana learns quickly that Kagura doesn’t like to talk after waking up, which is something she’s content to maintain because she has no idea how to approach this shit.  Are you okay? seems too impersonal, and is there anything I can do? reads like a line out of one of those support pamphlets that doctors always stock their counters with.

Around the time she starts to suspect that her nightmares have to do with fire, because Kagura will kick off her sheets and strip out of her clothes after no matter how cold the room is, Cana starts leaving the window open.  It isn’t a magical button that ends Kagura’s nightmares, but it’s one of those (healthy) preventative measures that helps her rest easier.  Kagura never vocalizes her thanks but she does curl up to Cana more often.

There are underlying rules to the nightmare process: don’t talk about it in the morning, don’t ask what it was about, don’t coddle or coo.  They’re set up for both of their comforts because God knows Cana can’t deal with emotional discussion like this in a helpful capacity.  Kagura has as many demons in her closet as Cana has beer bottles under her kitchen sink (demons take on different shapes and sizes), and if her nightmares involve them then Cana is more than glad to take a step back.  If she can’t handle her own shit then she’s on no position to try and help others deal with theirs.

On nights when Kagura’s nightmares are objectively bad in a way that has her groping around for Archenemy to run her fingers over the worn out patches on the sheath (physical proof that she’s won every battle she’s ever fought and that she’ll continue to do so), Cana breaks the rules (fuck the rules and fuck her inability to talk about her feelings).  She’s not a psychiatrist, she can’t talk her fears to death, but she’s a girlfriend and the least she can do is hug her.

It’s not coddling, per se, so the rules aren’t exactly broken, but the general sentiment is still violated.  In accordance to rule number one, they won’t discuss the nightmare or the infraction when they wake up, so Cana pulls Kagura close and runs her hands through her hair, watching it spill through her fingers like black ink.  Her chest gets all fluttery and warm (just like when she knocks back the bourbon, but without the liver damage that’s building) when she spots the furrow between her brows smoothen out as her hands drift to her shoulders and knead away the pain as best she can.  Even when her fingers throb in response to the pressure she’s applying, she doesn’t stop because a little ache on her end is worth it if Kagura can get a few hours of peace.  

Kagura responds in her own way, with soft sighs and a tight grip around Cana’s waist, and to anyone else it might come off as nothing but to Cana it’s more than enough.  They don’t need to spill their secrets over green tea and kiss their wounds all better (one day they will, but until then this silent trust is perfect).    

Their back and forth is more forth than anything, but they’re Cana and Kagura, two of the roughest, toughest mages in the country who’ve built their empire around their ability to hide behind a guard, and if it takes a decade for them to chip their shields away (it’s already starting - Cana forgets her bourbon on her mom’s anniversary and Kagura is starting to become a little softer around the edges at night), Cana is willing to wait.

Good things come to those who wait, after all.

(Two years down the line, Kagura will turn to her in the middle of the night and mumble out ‘Simon’ before clamming up again.

Cana will exhale softly and smile.

They’re getting somewhere.)

House aesthetics
  • Griffindor: Summer. Day hikes. Song lyrics you wrote in permanent marker on your shoes during a road trip. Shots of Fireball whiskey. The sound of a late night basketball game in a driveway. Talking your friends into getting season passes to a theme park with you and going as many times as you can. Tickets to the warped tour. An epic pub crawl. Unfinished books and Facebook rants. Tried to start a fight club (as a joke but not really). A fridge light spilling out into a dark kitchen. Your friend dared you to jump off a neighbor's roof into their pool and you did it. Ring toss and shooting games on the boardwalk. Warm vanilla chai. Fallout boy. Video game controllers at 130am. Weapon of choice - nerf gun. The warm feeling of power and excitement when lighting something on fire. Clapping someone on the back. You used to make up all the super complicated secret handshakes that your friends used. Athletic wear. Drawing dragons in hyperrealistic detail and doodling anime. Joining a crossfit gym. Racking up speeding tickets. Running off your mouth and inadvertently hurting someone before you realize what you're doing.
  • Ravenclaw: Winter. Going to the bookstore. Scrawling your favourite quote on every card and letter before you sign your name. Vodka in a teacup. The sound of rain hitting a windowpane and rolling thunder. Flying out to a new country and staying in a super luxe hotel. Tickets to the philharmonic. A Shakespeare performance in the park. Your unfinished novel and subsequent blog complaints about the problems with said novel. Tried to start an online book club (which is still going). A collection of candles in mason jars lighting a living room. A Griffindor dared you to play a piano song in the middle of the night and you "did" - you just let your nails clack on the keys. Boggle on a sunlit kitchen table. Loose leaf earl grey with lemon. Cello recordings to read to. Knitting needles working. Weapon of choice - isolation. The thrill of getting every jeopardy question right before the contestant. Awkwardly waving. You used to use an old wwii code to send secret messages. Black tie. Drawing mazes of geometric shapes and experimenting with pointillism. Going for a run early while listening to an audiobook. Trying to balance friends and work and life and you and the world and somehow feeling like you've failed in spite of looking successful.
  • Hufflepuff: Spring. Baking cupcakes. Lettering original poetry on canvas with a fine marker to give to your mom. Chaucer's Mead. The sound of sand being shaken out of a blanket. Renting a beach house for a week to relax with friends. Tickets to Hamilton. A new exhibit at the zoo. Unfinished chores and pinning new recipes. Tried to start a YouTube channel (has one video set to private). Like 18 strands of fairy lights tacked up near the ceiling. A Griffindor dared you to propose to a stranger and you said no because that's awkward for both you and the stranger. Constructing a scavenger hunt for you and your friends. Green tea with mint or peach. Mumford and sons on vinyl. Organizing books (for the 800th time). Weapon of choice - kindness. The electric feeling of spotting constellations for the first time. A firm handshake. You used to find the perfect hiding places for secret clubs. Warm jumpers. Painting murals of seascapes in your living room. Taking walks through the park with your dog. Excessively watching food network. Being unsure and hypercritical of yourself but knowing exactly what to do for others in any situation.
  • Slytherin: Fall. Reading through the night. Scribbling fiction in messy green ink in a journal. Half drunk glasses of Bourbon in odd places. The sound of boots tossed onto a hardwood floor. Holing up in an old mansion for the weekend. Tickets to coachella. A special screening of a Hitchcock double feature. Unfinished Netflix movies and making 8tracks playlists. Tried to start a band (was successful enough to make it to iTunes; broke up because life happened). The soft glow of a heat lamp for your pet but also the harsh blue light from reading on your phone. A Griffindor dared you to vandalize property and you refused because you don't see a point for needless destruction. Monopoly - and it gets INTENSE. Darjeeling. The base turned up in your car for Lana del Rey. Rubix cubes being solved. Weapon of choice - honesty. The satisfying feeling of saying the perfect thing at exactly the right time. A strong hug. You used to pass secret notes in class and never get caught. Elaborate af Halloween costumes. Working with charcoal on thick paper or creating optical illusions with sidewalk chalk. Walking around a uni town in the middle of the night. Cigarettes and too many drinks and antiques and family history. Standing up for what is right and saying what you think every time - even if it hurts.
A (somewhat) Relaxing Day

For this year’s fic/art exchange: a headcanon for @artemai-draws
Her request: a headcanon with Danny and Tucker being happy

It was Saturday morning in Amity Park and that could only mean one thing for the halfa and the tech-geek: relaxing day.

Usually Sam was with them as well, but she had been dragged to an out-of-town event by her parents - which left the two boys alone to enjoy their well-deserved rest. The new tradition started shortly after ghost-hunting and school started to over-drain the trio, leaving maybe two seconds for relaxing if they weren’t particularly busy; the teenagers foresaw that they wouldn’t be able to go on like that for long and decided that henceforth, all Saturdays would be for relaxation and chilling-out only - only breaking the pattern when absolutely necessary or unavoidable. No ghost-fighting; no homework; no studying; no embarrassing family activities; no worries.


Tucker showed up at Danny’s door with a backpack full of their favorite video-games and consoles and half their weight in junk food in his arms. The geek grinned mischievously over the mountain of greasy food at his friend. “Who’s ready for fun, fast-food, and far-too-violent video games?”
Danny Fenton stepped aside to let Tucker into the unusually silent house, satisfied with his work. “Parents left for an out-of-town convention, Jazz is in the library studying, and the Fenton Portal has been temporarily shut down. Everything two teenage boys could ever require for a “chillaxing” day has been placed in my bedroom.“ The halfa listed as he closed the door behind his friend. His eyes glowed a mischievous green. “Last one to my room cleans the mess afterwards!” He claimed before going ghost and flying at top speed to his room, eliciting an indignant “hey!” from Tucker.

The fun had officially begun.

The next few hours went by in a vicious cycle consisting of “eat, play, chill”. Eat, play, chill. Eat, play, chill. Repeat until you have a pair of teenagers with stomachache, red eyes from the screen light, and no energy or motivation to do anything, choosing to look at the ceiling and talk instead.
“I can’t feel my stomach or my legs or my thumbs, dude.” Tucker groaned. A rumble from his stomach protested that statement. “Actually…never mind that - pass me the fries.” Danny reached for their (tenth? eleventh?) package of fries and handed it to his friend, who sighed contently. “Nothing says "relax” quite like unhealthy food and video games full of mindless violence.“
"Agreed.” Danny said, hands folded back and cradling his head. “Especially when there are no ghost-weapons hitting me.” He laughed, his hand absently reaching to touch that specific spot on his head where the BOO-merang had hit him several times.
“Or bullies.”
“Or Vlad.”
“Or ghosts.”
“Or my parents.”

Silence ruled for a second. Danny’s thoughts wondered to his crush out of town. “Hey, do you think Sam’s having as much fun as us right now?”

Sam was not having fun.

As little kids dressed in expensive clothes ran past her and their mothers in tea dresses continued to gossip, the Goth’s scowl deepened. She could be in Danny’s place kicking his and Tucker’s asses in Doom - but nooooo, her mother had decided to drag her to a country club for a barbecue. A barbecue! She was an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian for goodness’ sake! If Tucker’s smell made her uneasy, then the sight of the burger patties and hot-dogs made her sick to her stomach.

Sam Manson growled. At least Danny and Tucker must be very miserable without her.

“TAKE THAT!” Tucker yelled in victory as he massacred the other player.
Danny joined in as he killed another one. “HECK YEAH!”
The screen lit up with the bright ending of the game: “YOU’VE MASSACRED ALL YOUR ENEMIES! YOU WIN!” Laughing and high-fiving each other, Danny and Tucker celebrated with their own awkward victory dances. “Fenton and Foley: the best gaming duo since the dawn of video games!” Danny hollered, pumping his hands in the air.

Coming down from their victorious feeling, the two friends settled down on the beanbag and the edge of the bed again, letting go of the grease-and-fat stained controls in exchange for more junk food. Suddenly a blue wisp of mist snaked out of Danny Fenton’s mouth immediately accompanied by a crash and screams from down the street. Both boys tilted their heads back in a groan.

“Bro, you said the portal was closed.” Tucker pointed out, spreading his arms to articulate his discontentment.
“It was closed. Fenton technology isn’t exactly the most reliable in existence.” Danny shot back, equally annoyed.
“We can…ignore the ghost until it gets bored and goes away?” The techno-geek suggested. More intense screams from the civilians of Amity Park. A silent agreement and a plan. Tucker sighed in defeat. “I’ll go get the thermos.”
“I’ll go see who or what decided to interrupt our only day-off this time.” Danny Fenton stated before going ghost and summoning the pair of light rings. A flash of light and the hero Danny Phantom stood determined in the hazardous room. “Meet you downstairs.”

Nodding, the two boys prepared to fight.

A very accurate way to describe the way Tucker Foley and Danny Fenton/Phantom felt when fighting the ecto-pusses: robotic.

A couple of ecto-blasts thrown at the ghosts, a witty banter or other, getting thrown into some buildings, trapping the ghosts in the thermos, people booing or cheering Phantom as he left the scene flying with Tucker hastily following him on foot on the ground. You can sense something is off when fights with supernatural beings are about as normal as missing the bus to school. The uplifting yet lazy mood from that morning - two friends determined to do nothing except lay back and relax - had vanished like Danny’s ghost sense, leaving behind a pair of tired teenagers who’d seen too much - just enough to be numbed.

Danny and Tucker met again in Danny’s room and collapsed on their previous spots - Danny changing back into Danny Fenton and Tucker falling face-first on the bean-bag. Tucker looked up and fixed his glasses, eyeing the discarded package of fries hungrily before propping himself up on his elbows, grabbing the package, and fishing out the few remaining fries. “Welp, at least we still have some fries left.” Tucker said, smiling wistfully and trying to lift their spirits. Pun intended. He handed some to Danny, who reached out a tired hand to receive the salty fries.
Despite the situation, Danny gave his friend a tired smile and popped one of the fries in his mouth. “Thank God for fries then.”

The halfa and the techno-geek laughed.

Oumasai Headcanons

Oumasai headcanons cause I’m a weeb !!
When did they realize they were interested in each other?
The first day of class Ouma instantly became interested in Saihara and flirted constantly but Saihara being Saihara never noticed up until later on and began to develop feelings for Ouma as well
Who confessed, how?
Ouma confessed by just blurting out “I love you Saihara-chan!” And grabbing him into a hug and Saihara accepted his feelings and hugged back
Describe their first date.
Ouma and Saihara go to laser tag and eat pizza and just enjoy each other’s company, both of them loving every second of it (bonus. When Saihara gets shot in a game Ouma dramatically cries and hugs him while Saihara just stands there like “why am I going out with this dork”
Describe their first kiss.
Since Ouma is popular with women he and Saihara were walking down the hallway when a girl came up to them and began talking to Ouma about meeting her outside after school and Saihara being the pure bean he is got jealous and just kissed Ouma right in front of her and coldly left off with “we’re dating”
Describe their first time having sex
It all started as a movie date but Ouma unmindfully started palming Saihara through his pants and until Saihara started making noise Ouma hadn’t noticed. As soon as Saihara starts making noises Ouma stops and Saihara just gets kinda mad and starts giving Ouma hickeys and you can imagine what that led to
Who cooks? Describe their cooking.
Saihara👏🏾cooks👏🏾 he enjoys making Ouma sweet things (including American sweets as well) and they just sit together and eat and cuddle
What do they like most about each other?
Ouma loves Saihara’s voice he finds it calming like a melody and its hand down his favorite thing (he also loves his hands, his hair, his torso, his eyes, he loves everything about his detective bf) and Saihara loves Ouma’s positivity although he does joke a lot and it does get tiring Saihara loves the can do attitude of his short boyfriend
What do they like least about each other?
Ouma adores everything about Saihara except the fact that all his attention isn’t directed to him, Ouma loves attention from his lover so he despises it when Saihara doesn’t pay attention to him. Saihara dislikes Ouma’s lying the most of all, it confuses him and makes him frustrated.
What is the most common cause of conflict between them?
Probably Ouma’s attention problem, he constantly tries to keep his attention and Saihara could just look at a girl and Ouma would go into a jealous fit of rage (which he usually gets over in like 5 minutes but it’s still troublesome)
What is their sexual dynamic like?
It often starts out rough especially when Ouma initiates it but usually ends up in them softly riding out their orgasms and just lovingly taking every second of each other in
How do they express their love?
Ouma constantly compliments Saihara and takes his hat off claiming he looks cute without it and he always finds windows of opportunity to compliment Saihara. Saihara likes holding Ouma’s hand and when he feels like it laying down soft kisses before Ouma moves his hands away to do something else
What is each partner’s favorite kinda date?
Ouma loves group dates so he can show off he and Saihara’s relationship while Saihara prefers private simple dates like going to the park or having dinner at home
What do they do together on a day in?
Saihara likes to do cross word puzzles and play board games with Ouma seeing it cute the way he plays while Ouma likes playing video games and watching tv in his boyfriends arms
Who do they talk to when they want to complain about their partner, or when they have a relationship problem?
Ouma hands down goes to Yumeno to rant but Yumeno usually just leads the conversation to her and Tenko’s relationship which is usually going dandy. Saihara goes to Rantaro to just talk even though he usually gives bad advice (once he suggested Saihara doesn’t touch Ouma for two days which would send Ouma and Saihara actually insane)
How do they spend their weekends?
Going shopping is always at the top of their list, they like choosing clothing for each other and seeing who looks good in what
What kind of couples vacations do they prefer?
Ouma loves beach trips while Saihara likes going some where up north like a ski lodge
What is each person’s type? Does their partner meet this, or are they an atypical match for them?
Ouma’s type is certainly pretty boys who don’t say much which is exactly what Saihara meets. Saihara likes some one who is a bit more daring than him and willing to do more, Ouma meets this category
How do they compliment one another?
Saihara rolls with the usual “you look nice” while Ouma showers him in compliments and nice comments
What physical do they like most about each other?
Saihara loves Ouma’s skin, it’s really soft and nice when they cuddle. Ouma LOVES Saihara's👏🏾 hands👏🏾 he loves rubbing them against his face and intertwining them together
Assuming they moved in together whom asked whom?
Saihara asked Ouma and Ouma of course said yes in a heart beat afterwards hugging Saihara and giving off a fake cry that holds actual happiness
Should they marry, who proposes?
While Saihara isn’t completely sure Ouma would love to be married to Saihara so people could know he was officially his, Saihara would definitely propose and Ouma would just cry and yell yes over and over again (it’d be the cutest shit you’d ever seen)
Describe the wedding
Theme is traditional white and they invite all their class mates to the special day, Tenko walks Ouma down the isle and their kiss is gorgeous
Where do they live? Describe their home.
They live in western Japan in a quiet part of the country where they live in a house with a pretty lake in the backyard
Do they have pets?
No, neither of them see the appeal while they have each other (maybe they have a fish or an amphibian)
Assuming they have children what’s their parenting like?
Ouma is totally the parent that gives the kid everything they want while Saihara tries to put his foot down but usually has to have Rantaro (the fun uncle) do it
I hope these weren’t too ooc and I hope you all enjoyed!! If possible leave other dr ships to make headcanons for^^

Author Note: So I have never written a Riverdale fanfic before, and when I reblogged this post of prompts earlier tonight @beautifullyflawed25 made this request for ArchieRonnie. I hope you all enjoy!

“I’m coming home.” She’d said it to him the night before in the video chat. Since then he replayed that moment over and over, what did it mean, what did she want?

Archie pushed back from his desk, looking around the trailer that was the office of Andrews and Son. He looked out the window at the home development they were working on. His crew building houses for the new Blossom Falls community on the old Thornhill property.

Why was she coming back?

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Location! Location! Location!

Picture it: Austin, 2016. 

The setting is deep in the “backyard” of a ranch location out in the motherfucking nowhere land of the hill country. It’s about as Texas as you can imagine. Prickly plants. Cows. Confederate flags. Dudes with guns. Dirt roads. Bad cell reception. Terrible studded designer jeans bought at the dollar store. This “backyard” is a 20 minute van drive from basecamp, which is at the main house next door. Walkies barely reach. Cellphones are in and out. The quickest way through was in a land rover through a very dangerous path through the woods. 

The set itself is a beautiful dreamy little pond buried in clay cliffs decorated with cedar trees. The sun creates a golden glow at certain points in the day. Perfect for the camera. The rest of us, however… 

At first, no bathrooms except back at basecamp (20 minutes from set) (they later got portas delievered).Food on the set, like crafty, was difficult because the fields near the pond were infested with bees. Like, actually infested. Not an understatement. Figuring out where to eat lunch everyday was a misery. If an emergency happened, we were in the middle of nowhere. Basecamp could barely hear us and there were only two vans making trips so if you didn’t get on the van, it could be 40 minutes until you’re back on set. Not only that, the neighbors were weird about the road the worktrucks were parked on and one guy got in our faces with a video camera threatening us. 

As a result, this beautiful set cost us a LOT of shots. Like a LOT. 

One more example. Dallas, 2016. The set is in a beautiful floor to ceiling plate glass 6th floor high rise, overpriced apartment in uptown. Full cinematic views of downtown Dallas. Tenants of the building did not want us there. The building restricted our abilities to get equipment in quickly by eliminating the elevators we could use and the entrances we could use. Loading was too steep for the trucks so they had to park in an alley nearby. We had constant supervision and constant complaints, including yet another guy threatening us (this time physically). We couldn’t talk normally in the halls, we couldn’t park near the building, and we had to lay down layout board on carpets designed for high density traffic and heavy loads. Again lost a lot of time and shots didn’t work. 

When we plan production, we spend a lot of time on blocking and the script and what camera to use and lighting and casting. We discuss costume design and what crew to bring in. But we often skip one of the most important parts of the filmmaking process: seriously weighing the pros and cons of our locations.  On indie films, our budgets are limited and we try to have producers or directors do the jobs of production managers and location managers. This is not good. Directors & producers should not be in charge of locations.



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anonymous asked:

Hey! Could I please get some dad headcanons for the guys of over watch pls? Thank you for your time!


  • This man is SHOOK when he becomes a daddy
  • He never ever thought that kids would be possible and now that one was here, it meant so much to him
  • He cried during the birth, he cried at their first words, their first steps, their first everything
  • He’s just so happy that he gets to experience fatherhood
  • Is that overly supportive dad, like not in the bad way but sometimes their kid is like ‘chill dad’


  • Like Genji, he kind of is at awe that he has made a child
  • He’s a man of few words but he is always there to show his kid just how proud he is of them
  • He tries his best not to be overbearing, but he subscribes to the whole father knows best field
  • His s/o helps chill that out
  • He is the master of insightful one-liners/idioms, despite their kid wishing they would just tell them straight


  • He shows off his kid to EVERYONE. Like pictures, videos, recordings, you name it
  • He is all about the skin on skin contact to build relationships, like when the child was born mom had to fight to get skin time with the kid
  • He is all about teaching them his craft although he uses dummy bombs with them, he can’t blow his kid up now can he?
  • He is the one that will tell your teenager’s friends the most embarrassing stories because he thinks they’re just the cutest ever


  • He played ALL the music for the baby when they were still in the womb, a lot of his own music mixed with classical and soothing rhythms
  • He is known for just dancing around with their kids, from the time they’re infants until they’re grown
  • He is their loudest fan no matter what, like even if they are the worst player he’ll cheer how hard you’re trying
  • He is infinitely positive and optimistic, like whenever they’re down they know dad can pick them back up with no issue
  • He has made a mixtape for every year of their life and cries whenever he plays it back


  • This man is more than happy to sit up with the baby, crooning soft, adoring country songs
  • He wears the serape as a sling/wrap, and often just walks around base with the kid, smiling and talking
  • He quits smoking the DAY he find out his s/o is pregnant, only having one last one at the father’s baby shower
  • He is the perfect horsey, plopping his hat on the kid’s head and bucking and moving until his knees or back finally demand he stop
  • He is the king of camping, like he will just take the kids, his s/o and pile into a car, drive to the middle of nowhere and camp all weekend just so they keep that familial bond

Reaper/Gabriel Reyes

  • This man coos and baby talks with the best of them, cradling his baby and calling them every sweet pet name you could imagine
  • He is at every PTA event, parent-teacher conference, sports game making sure teachers know who he is and what he expects
  • He love playing tough, but he’s completely playful. Don’t try and push your luck too far tho, he can be quite the hardass
  • Has cooked every birthday cake they ever had, refusing to go storebought
  • He has threatened every significant other that has ever had the gall to enter the house, like shining his shot guns or turning into smoke or eyes turning red


  • This man sobbed when he held his child for the first time, they were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his entire life
  • He is so encouraging but his voice has startled you at several a sports game
  • He is honest to a fault, like his kid’s learn the value of an honest opinion but don’t always learn that it isn’t always the best
  • This man has built up the greatest moral compass in his kids, like they do what’s right because it’s right and that’s it
  • He is the best storyteller in the entire world


  • On super fussy nights, he places the baby on his stomach and is able to get them to sleep no matter what
  • Can you say tea party and princess dad? Like he practices proper etiquette, one finger up, big floppy hat and the works
  • He steals little tiaras and rings and other jewelry for their kid, dress up quite a luxurious affair
  • He added a safety sidecar onto his bike, like bars and an airbag and all types of safety belts
  • Trusts his kids endlessly, but if they come home crying from a date he may disappear for a few hours to ‘take care of some business’

Soldier: 76/ Jack Morrison

  • He is that helicopter dad, always checking in to make sure his kids are okay. Like literally, he worries
  • He tries to play strict but he can’t, like really it pains this man to say no to his children
  • He has taught his children all those military phrases; pop smoke, stay frosty, rack time, etc
  • The kids can NOT leave the house without breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day and his kids have not ONCE made it out of the house without the meal
  • His kids are in the scouts. He is the scout leader. They are the strongest, cohesive scouting troop that has ever been seen
Tailored - [NCT] Boyfie!Jaehyun

[A/N] If you asked me who has my heart, my answer would be Jaehyun, my casper, my 97-liner, my milky-white prince who has pretty hands, tall af and an amazing voice. I love him so much.

Originally posted by oh-prankster

A sharp intake of air shot through your lungs like you’ve been resuscitated to life.

Your stinging eyes wouldn’t greet the sun just yet so you were left palming your desk, searching for your phone to check the time.



Bringing yourself up in your seat, your hand flew to the back of your neck, lulling your head back to ease the cramps. You were left sleeping on your desk doing the pleatings for the new costume for the boys. Exhaustion must have overpowered you to sleep in the most unnatural pose.

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I needed Philkas fluff so I wrote some for myself 👏🏼😤 and I’ve decided to share the wealth

• Philip hates the cold. Like, really hates it. He tries to stay out of it as much as possible and wears thick jackets when he can’t avoid it. So one day when he’s slept over at Lukas’s after a midnight booty call and Lukas has to do some chores on the farm, he offers to go with.
“Can I borrow a jacket?” He asks, already sniffling from the cold air coming in from the open window.
“Ah, yeah,” Lukas nods, rummaging through his closet for his warmest one. He pulls it out: a denim jacket with a thick wool lining.
“Thanks.” Philip shrugs it on and cuddles up in it. It fits him around the middle just fine, but the sleeves reach almost to his fingertips. He rolls them up to his wrists and looks up at Lukas. “We going?”
Lukas nods, fighting a blush. We almost wishes that Philip would have just kept the sleeves as they were. The term “boyfriend shirt” flashes across his mind briefly, and he can’t help blushing now. When Philip asks about it, he blames it on the cold.
• The first time Lukas meets Philip’s mom, it’s an accident.
She’s standing outside the Caldwell-Torrence house smoking a cigarette. She’s been making slow but steady progress in rehab, and the court has granted her a visit with Philip. Of course Gabe and Helen had wanted to supervise, so she’d come out to the country for him.
Lukas was not informed of this. He guesses that Philip had only recently found this out too, which is why he hadn’t told him. He came over to ask if Philip wanted to go for a ride, which was just sort of an excuse to drive out onto the woods and make out a little. Maybe talk about their lives and share a bottle of whiskey.
He startles when he sees the slight woman wavering on the porch like she’d be blown over by the wind at any moment. And, because she bears little resemblance to Philip himself, Lukas figures she must be some guest of his foster parents’. He walks up the steps and gives her a polite nod, rapping sharply on the door. As he bounces on his toes, eager to be invited in from the cold, the small woman wanders over to him and flashes a warm smile.
“Hi,” Lukas says, eyes flicking back to the door for a moment.
“Hi.” she parrots, finishing her cigarette and stamping it out under her boot. “You must be one of my son’s friends, right?”
Lukas’s eyes widen. “Your so - you mean, you’re Philip’s…”
She extends her hand. “Mother, yes. Nice to meet you…?”
“Lukas.” He responds, pulling his hand from inside of his pocket to meet hers. Then he remembers that Philip said he’d told his mother about him and continues stuttering. “I’m his - well, uh, I guess you know. I was just coming over to see him, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Yes, Gabe and Helen wanted it to be a surprise. I just slipped out for a quick smoke while Helen called out for pizza.” She tucks her sweater more tightly about her, and Lukas softens at the fact that she seems to be as affected by the cold as Philip is.
Speak of the devil; the door finally swings open and there he is, floppy-haired and bright-eyed as he looks out in alarm at the sight of his mother and his boyfriend seeming to be having a casual chat on his doorstep.
“Mom,” he says, shutting the door behind him and joining the two. “Hey. This is, uh, Lukas.” He jerks his chin onwards the taller boy, who reaches out to rub his arm for warmth.
“Yeah, we just met.” She grins, leaning in towards her son and giving him a gentle elbow nudge. “I like this one.”
He looks from his mother up to his boyfriend and allows himself a shy smile.
“I do too.”
• Sometimes Philip brings his camera with him when he and Lukas hang out. He’s always taking pictures when Lukas least expects it, and won’t show him no matter how much Lukas pesters him to. One time, when Philip is downstairs getting them drinks, Lukas decides to feel around underneath Philip’s bed. Every guy hides his porn and stuff under there, right? Lukas is just curious…
He stumbles upon a shoebox. Bingo. He slides it out and tugs it up onto his lap, carefully unfolding the flaps to reveal…
“Envelopes?” Lukas frowns, turning them over to see that they’re pictures developed from their local drugstore. He opens the first one, not even knowing what to expect. Nature? Bike tricks? But why would he need to hide those away?
The first picture he finds is one of himself - leaning against his bike with his helmet tucked under his arm. He’s looking off into the tree line, seeming to be laughing at something Philip had said.
He’s never seen a picture of himself like that - not stiffly smiling for the camera or posed at all - just enjoying the moment and being captured within it.
The next one was shot from a bit closer up. He was looking straight at the lens, though didn’t seem to know he was being photographed. Checking again, he sees that he was actually looking a bit above the lens at the photographer. He remembers this day. He and Philip were sitting on the dock eating lunch, their feet idly splashing in the water. He’d looked up in the middle of a story about how this kid in his class had hurled during the pregnancy video in health class last year and there was Philip with his camera. He snapped a quick shot and darted away from Lukas when he’d tried to grab at him, ending up pushing him in the lake with Philip yelping and holding his camera high above his head as his legs were submerged in icy water. They’d gone back to Lukas’s house after that, Philip calling him an asshole as Lukas tried to make up for it by lending him dry sweatpants and warming up his feet with his own.
Lukas begins quickly flicking through the rest of the envelope and they’re all pictures of him. At the farm. At the station. On the bus. One of him during class with a cocked eyebrow and a raised middle finger that makes him laugh.
Philip comes back, propping the door open with his hip. He shifts the coke cans and bag of potato chips to one arm as he uses the other to shut the door. Lukas tries and fails to hide what he’s looking at, but Philip’s cheeks tinge pink and Lukas knows he’s been caught.
“What are you doing!?” Philip yelps, scrambling to set aside the snacks on his way to snatch the pictures from Lukas. Lukas smirks, pulling Philip down on top of him when he gets close enough. Philip begins to protest until Lukas’s arms snake around his waist, roping him in for a long, slow kiss. Philip defeatedly bunches his fists into Lukas’s T-shirt, enjoying the feeling for now until he gets the chance to chew him out for snooping.
It won’t do any good in deterring him, though. Because even as they kiss, Lukas is sneaking a picture Philip took smiling next to Lukas’s sleeping face into his inner jacket pocket.
• For some reason Philip gets really flustered whenever Lukas randomly picks him wildflowers on their walks, so on their first anniversary, Lukas buys him a bouquet of roses.
He’s never seen Philip smile so wide.
• Oh yeah, they go on walks. Usually deep in the forest, where they can hold hands and spill their guts to each other, quietly treading on leaves and pine needles.
• Lukas gets sick in the middle of flu season. He’s basically bedridden, unable to eat solid foods due to his sore throat and huddled up with a pack of tissues that make the tip of his nose red and raw. He texts Philip that he won’t be able to hang out today and flops back onto his pillow, falling asleep almost instantly.
He wakes up to a bed clean of old tissues and a box of new lotion ones, wondering vaguely in his sleep-hazed mind what small woodland creature had come in and done this. Said small creature appears in the form of his boyfriend, carrying a bowl of hot soup and smiling softly.
“Good. You’re awake. You should eat this.” He squats next to the bed and blows on a spoonful gently, raising it to Lukas’s lips. He takes it into his mouth tentatively and is pleased to find that it is clam chowder, his favorite. He eagerly finishes the bowl with Philip’s help and blows his nose a few dozen times before becoming sleepy again. Philip pats his head and tells him to rest, that he’ll be back in the morning. As he kisses Lukas’s forehead goodnight, he swears he hears a half-asleep Lukas mumble,
“I love you.”
• Philip seems to be using up more money than necessary for lunch every day. When questioned, he definitely doesn’t tell Gabe that he and Lukas are stockpiling for a trip to the city.
He and Helen find out after minimal detective work, saying nothing when he says he’ll be spending the night at a friend’s house the next weekend.