this was such an early 2000s look and it still confuses me

The Signs As Weird Shit My Grandmother Has Done, Part 2
  • Aries: Has a collection of magnets the covers the whole fridge, including one that says "tits out 2016".
  • Taurus: Refuses to eat cranberry sauce because she says it "still tastes like the can".
  • Gemini: Somehow got the movie Coraline confused with the movie Shrek and bought my brother 3 Shrek DVDs, despite the fact that we don't have a DVD player and my brother asked her bring over the BOOK version of Coraline.
  • Cancer: Refers to her sister as "that crazy woman Lanie".
  • Leo: Tried to set me up with my friend Nicholas when we were in third grade.
  • Virgo: Calls my girlfriend "that little Emily girl", despite her name not being Emily. Her response to this is "she looks like an Emily."
  • Libra: Has a CD of early 2000s hits including "Bring Me To Life" "All Star" "Fergalicious" and "Get Low" that she plays in the car at top volume to embarrass my dad.
  • Scorpio: Stands firmly by her belief that the movie Grease is the greatest movie ever made and makes the whole family watch it on Thanksgiving.
  • Sagittarius: Knows every employee in the Walgreens by her house personally. She brings them chili on holidays.
  • Capricorn: Once, when she was a teenager, threatened to set the movie theater on fire if one more person made her go see Gone With The Wind. She will not watch it, to this day. She's seen it 19 times, or so she says.
  • Aquarius: Asked my dad if she could take my brother, who was 8 or 9 at the time, to go see Mad Max.
  • Pisces: Sets her GPS then refuses to follow the directions because she "knows a shortcut", even if she has no fucking clue where she's going.

What if since meeting your soulmate is the best thing to happen to you, they get teleported to the site of the worst thing that’s happened to you?

or: my take on this AU by @shitty-check-please-aus


Jack skates through the crowd of his teammates who are currently mobbing the small blonde freshman who brought pie of all things into his practice.  He’s kind of intending to ask the kid what the hell he thinks he’s doing feeding these guys before they have to go run drills, anyway.  Like seriously, does he want a rink full of projectile-vomiting jocks?  Cuz that’s an ugly scene that he does not want to explain to the ice crew.  But he’s the captain, and so when guys on his team act like morons, Jack is always the one who has to go apologize on behalf of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team.

He’s more than ready to lay into the new guy, but when the crowd parts, and new guy looks up, he smiles this nervous little smile and says,

“Hi!  I’m Eric -” and then everything goes black.  


Coach Bittle got into the habit of always checking the janitor’s closet on his way out of the building every night.  After what happened to Junior, he ended up just sort of gravitating there.  The first time he’d had the urge to check inside, he’d ignored it and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, imagining a tiny freshman, plopped on a bucket and crying their eyes out.  When the custodian showed up at 5, Coach was already waiting in his truck with a cup of coffee.  Now he just gives in.  Figures that as far as compulsive, guilty urges go, it’s not that bad.  Only takes him another minute out of his way, and now he goes home and sleeps like a baby.

Luckily, depite making it part of his nightly routine for the past few years, nobody’s actually been locked in there.  Well.  Locked in.  There were certainly a few encounters he interrupted.  Those times he was delayed more than a minute having to make uncomfortable phone calls to parents.  

The first and only time that Coach Bittle rescues someone from the janitor’s closet is actually not even during the school year, and he isn’t actually checking for anyone.  He’d just come in to do some paperwork for preseason and spilled coffee on his desk, and when he goes to get the actually absorbent paper towels from the closet, he finds a very large, very confused man in full hockey gear.

“AHHHH!” They both scream and jolt back, Coach stumbling and catching himself on the drinking foundtain, the large hockey man, being not so lucky and still wearing skates, sits in a mop bucket.  His only solace seems to be that it’s currently empty.

“What in the sam hell!?” Coach yells, regaining his footing.  Hockey man flinches and his eyes dart around like a cornered racoon.

“Where am I?” he chokes out.  “What’s - what’s going on?”  He looks up and meets Coach’s eyes.  Coach looks down at hockey man’s jersey.  Samwell Men’s Hockey.  And he is not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, so it takes only a few stunned seconds to realize that this must me Junior’s soulmate.  Why else would one of his teammates have been catapulted down to Georgia?

“You’re in Madison, Georgia, son.  Looks like you just met your soulmate.”

“My - but I - I was at practice?”  Hockey man looks up at him, and from way down there, looking so goddamn confused, he finally looks young enough to be playing with Dicky’s team.

“And now you’re here.  So what does that tell you?”  Coach raises an eyebrow.

“That…I…met my soulmate?”

“Sounds about right.  Also sounds like you probably need to be getting on your way back, don’t it?”

“Um, yes.  That would be.  I should.  Um.  Go.”

“Might want to start with taking off the skates first.”

“Oh, I.  Yes.”  Hockey man awkwardly lifts his legs one by one and scrunches up to untie his laces.  Coach helps him pull the skates off, and then offers a hand up out of the bucket.

“Thank you, sir.”

“No trouble.”

“Jack Zimmermann,” he introduces himself and holds his hand out to shake.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Eric Bittle Senior,” Coach tells him, trying not to feel a little pleased when the boy’s face goes pale in recognition.  “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back where y’all belong.”

“But I - That’s Massachusetts.”

“I know what I said.  Hussle, you’ve got another practice tomorrow mornin’ I bet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then we oughtta hope traffic’s on our side.”


Meanwhile, Bob Zimmermann nearly cuts his ear off shaving when he hears a loud thump followed by a sqeuak behind him.  He turns to find a strange young man in a Samwell Men’s Hockey jersey sprawled across his bathroom floor, clutching a pecan pie to his chest.

“Chrisse!” He yells, razor clattering to the sink.  He manages to catch his towel before it falls, luckily, but his yelling seems to have startled the poor kid even more.  He’s shaking a little as he sets the pie down gently and sits up. The blades of his skates clink against the tile.

“I - Um - Oh dear, I am so sorry!  I don’t - I don’t know what happened!  I was at practice and then - I mean - I’ll just be going.”

“Non!”  Bob rushes to assure the boy it’s fine, but when he steps forward, it startles him all over again.  Clearing his throat, Bob steps back and switches to English.  “I mean, there’s no need to apologize.  I know why you’re here, I just - wasn’t expecting you at this particular moment.”

“You…were expecting me?”

“Well…not you exactly, but…the…concept? of you?  Jack’s soulmate.  We - His mother and I, we knew when he met them, they would show up here.”

“Oh…I…guess that makes sense?”

“I’m sorry we had to meet like this.  I feel terribly underdressed.”  The boy stares at him blankly until Bob cracks a smile.  Then, he breaks out into loud pleals of laughter.  His eyes are a warm brown and crinkle at the corners, his nose scrunches.  He looks like such a happy person.  Maybe happy enough that some of it will rub off on Jack.

Hockey boy stands up and shakes the hand that isn’t holding Bob’s towel up.  “Eric Bittle, pleasure to meet you.”

“Bob Zimmermann, nice to meet you too.”  Another good (although strange, very strange) sign: there isn’t a trace of recognition in the boy’s face at hearing the name “Bob Zimmermann”.  Of course Jack’s soulmate would be the only hockey player alive who had no clue who the fuck his father is.  

Eric hobbles out of the bathroom and sits against the wall in the hallway to take his skates off before making his way downstairs to the kitchen where Bob had said his wife Alicia was probably hanging out.  Sure enough, when he found the (gorgeous.  stunning.  drool-worthy.) kitchen, there was a  tall, blonde woman sitting cross-legged on one of the barstools, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other propping open a book.

“Hello,” he announces himself quietly.  She’s still startled, though not nearly as much as her husband had been.  When she turns and gets a look at him, she puts the coffee down and lets the pages of the book flop freely, unfolding herself from the seat.

“Hello.  You must be…”

“Eric.  Eric Bittle.”

“Right.  And -”

“Jack’s soulmate.  Yes ma’am, it would seem so.”  He smiles timidly, and is most definitely not expecting to be enveloped in a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Zimmermann.”

“Well,” Alicia steps back and puts her hands on her hips, regarding Eric with a motherly smile.  “Can I get you a cup of coffee while we wait for Bob?”


Jack and Coach switch drivers every state.  Coach insists that each time, they take a photo in front of the Welcome sign.  Jack snaps a few pictures on his phone when he’s in the passenger seat.  When it’s his turn to drive, he tries to educate Coach on the finer points of hockey and the top NCAA teams, and Coach in turn tries to explain how the hell football works.


The Zimmermanns put Eric on a plane back to Massachusetts that night with his hockey gear stuffed in a duffel and wearing the least obviously early 2000s clothes they could find in Jack’s old dresser.  

“We wish we could go with you,” Alicia tells him, seeming genuinely sad to be sending him off alone.

“But Jack probably wouldn’t appreciate…intruding.  He likes to keep his life at school seperate from his life back home, you know?”  

“Of course, don’t worry a bit.  It was so nice meeting y’all.”


When the airport shuttle leaves Eric in front of his dorm, he’s exhausted from the trip and starting to stress out about seeing Jack.  His soulmate.  Who he’d barely seen in the first place, only a quick impression of tall and eyes before he’d been wormholed to Montreal.  He thinks he has to be seeing things when he first catches sight of his father’s old blue truck pulled up against the curb.  

He shakes himself and starts for the building, but from behind him, Coach’s voice calls,

“Dicky!  Er- Eric!”  Eric’s head spins a little with how fast he turns around.  Because there’s no way.  His dad hadn’t been able to get away from preseason long enough to drive Eric up to school in the first place.  There’s no way he’s - But the there’s Jack, sliding out of the passenger seat.  Because Coach had driven him.  All the way from Georgia.  Because he’s Eric’s soulmate.  Coach is hand-delivering the love of Eric’s life and he just…cannot with this day anymore.

So he focuses on the one tiny part that he can wrap his travel-weary brain around.  He walks up to Jack, who’s watching him raptly, eyes darting everywhere like he’s trying to make sure he memorizes everything before he disappears again, and says,

“I don’t think we managed to introduce ourselves properly last time.”

Jack laughs.

Strip

(A/N): I honestly love protective steve so much

Request: Can you write a StevexReader story where the reader is at college and has to work as stripper to get the money for it because her parents won’t pay it? And Steve sees her as Tony tracks him there one day to make him lose his virginity. And some guy starts to be rude to her and Steve comes to protect her?

Warnings: none

Tags: @mcuimxgine, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @saradi1018, @holland-toms, @superwholockian309, @fly-f0rever, @capbuckthor


Originally posted by master-of-duct-tape

   “You gotta get some experience Cap,” Tony mutters as he shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his pocket as they pass by the retro Strip Club, one that had ladies dating back to all sorts of times. You had your classic 80′s rocker, the 90′s grunge, the 70′s disco, the 60′s flower child, and Tony’s personaly favorite the 1940′s showgirl. “It’s completely authentic Cap, it’ll be reminiscent!” 

   “I don’t remember any strip clubs back in my day, “ Steve mutters as he nearly throws open the door, the old piece of wood smacking against the equally old brick. With an angry sigh he stuffed his hands into his pants pocket as he trudged into the club, his gaze raking over all the different girls. It was obviously a break of some sort for they had all congregated in the front room, not in their individual blast from the past showrooms. All the girls, some of them the drapper 30′s girls straight to the early 2000′s ones all sat around, either smoking or drinking, maybe chatting with one another. Every pair of eyes land on the two as they walk in and Steve can practically feel them undressing him on the spot. 

   “Hey girls!” Tony calls out boisterously, waving flirtatiously to some of the strippers. “We could a little problem here,” 

   “We’re on lunch break, sorry,” One of the girls gives him a small smile as she takes a drag from her cigar. If Steve guessed right she looked like she belonged to the 70′s era. 

   “Would uh- this convince you otherwise?” Tony waves a wad of cash in the air, watching as the girls followed his hand hungrily. 

   “Hm…” One of the girls rose from her seat, showcasing her rather voluptuous form. “I’m sure I could work on Mr. Tall and Blonde for ya,” She sways her hips as she walks towards the two, stopping just in front of Steve. “He’s pretty cute if I do say so myself,” 

   “Tony-” Steve begins, casting his friend a side glance when he stopped, his eyes catching onto one of the girls lingering in a corner, sitting by herself but still there. The dark of the room almost shadowed them but Steve would recognize that face anywhere. “(Y/N),” Steve sounds just the tiniest bit confused, his brows furrowed as he gazed into the corner. Tony perks up a bit too, his gaze travelling over the girls until they landed on the shadowy figure in the corner. 

   “Well I’ll be damned,” Tony chuckles, stuffing his money away as he made his way towards (Y/N)’s table. “Looks like we got yourselves quite the showgirl,” Tony clicks his tongue as he takes a seat right next to (Y/N), giving them a sort of twisted smile. “How perfect for our very own Captain America,” 

    “Leave me alone Tony,” (Y/N) mutters, folding her arms over her chest as she huffed just a bit. Even in the poor lighting Steve could see how exhausted (Y/N) looked, not even her copious amount of makeup could cover up just how tired she was. 

   “I’ve got money (Y/N) and if you’re working here you obviously need it-” 

   “Tony,’ Steve warns, his tone light for now. 

   “I just want to know why our precious little (Y/N) is out here, working that pert little ass off for money when she doesn’t need it,” (Y/N) bites her lip, blushing just the tiniest bit. “You’re so conservative at the tower, always covering up, damn- I didn’t even know you looked this good,” Tony licks his lips, allowing his gaze to travel up and down (Y/N)’s exposed body. 

   “Tony, that’s enough,” Steve growls, his patience running thin. “(Y/N) must have a good reason for working here, right?’ Steve looks to her, hoping his gaze was sympathetic. (Y/N) looks at Steve with almost shame filled eyes as she nods her head. 

   “I need the money for college, I can’t pay with a regular job but working here is sufficing,” 

   “You know,” Tony leans forward, getting way too close to (Y/N) to Steve’s liking. “If you gave me my own private little show I’m sure I could pay you those college loans for ya,” Tony’s lips brush against (Y/N)’s ear and the flinch, her face taking up an expression of both horror and distaste. 

   “Tony, stop-” (Y/N) whispers, attempting to push away from the man but he remained steadfast, quickly grabbing onto (Y/N) to keep her in place. That was all Steve needed to rip Tony away from (Y/N) and shove him against the wall, his elbow digging into his throat. 

   “When a woman tells you to stop you better fucking stop, got that?” Steve growls, pushing his elbow against Tony’s neck even more. The man coughs and chokes, clawing at Steve’s arm to let him go. Somewhere behind him the girls are all whispering about Steve and Tony and no doubt (Y/N) as well. “Do you understand Stark?” Tony nods weakly, clutching at Steve’s arm fruitlessly. With an angry grunt Steve let Tony fall to the floor, instead turning to (Y/N) to ask if she was okay. 

   “Are you okay?” Steve asks, his tone much lighter than it had been a few seconds ago. (Y/N) nods meekly, pursing her lips as she does. 

   “Wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened to me,” (Y/N) smiles sadly and Steve can nearly feel his heart break. 

   “When do you get off work doll?” The nickname slides from his lips easily, almost unconsciously. (Y/N) smiles just a bit, rubbing at her arms in the chill of the club. 

   “A few minutes actually,” 

   “How bout you get dressed and I can take you out to that cafe you like so much?” (Y/N) smiles even more as she nods, her spirits slowly but surely rising. 

   “I’d love that,” (Y/N) brushes past Steve, stopping by his side to give his cheek one little peck, one that had Steve’s cheeks ablaze and his heart hammering. 

   “Thanks Stevie,” (Y/N) whispers, their lips brushing against his cheek with each word. “I think I owe you your own private show sometime,” Steve’s cheeks flush even more, and he swears his heart presses against his chest with how fast it’s beating. 

   “Let me take you on a few dates first,” Steve smiles sheepishly. (Y/N) only smiles, nodding their head as they do. 

   “Cafe is date number one, bookstore is the second one next week, that okay with you?” Steve nods, a little unbelieving chuckle falling from his lips. 

   “That’s perfectly fine with me,” 

Blue Exorcist timeline

Information gathered from: Chapter 87, 86, 78, 76, 75, 74, 39, 10, a shit ton of theories when what book was written and when what thing was built, the wikia, Wikipedia, my shitty math skills, assuming time periods by staring too long at chapter 86, researching school starts and breaks in Japan, the drama Faust which I reread twice for Blue Exorcist, some more manga chapters and finally two  posts by @duskwitch about the age of the Ba’al!

Also, as duskwitch informed me, there is a poster in chapter 45 stating it’s the year 201X. For the sake of actual dates though, I used 2009 as the present because it’s the year Blue Exorcist got published.

This could be more detailed probably but I’m not gonna search through every panel of the manga now. Maybe next weekend though and then add whatever else I find. It’s a work in progress! Now then, let’s get started:

38.000 BC [first cave drawing]: Creation of the concept of Ba’als; all demons perhaps?
2300 BC [Tower of Babel] to 100 AD [bible]: Ba’als gained defined appearances; some time later first incarnated. Lucifer incarnated and died first after about 10 years.
9th to 10th century: Samael takes up the name of Loki
1000 AD: Amaimon’s first incarnation
Middle Ages: Lucifer convinces his siblings to fight against humanity
12th to 13th century [Order of the Temple]: Samael and some of the Ba’al (two others pictured) gave humans the knowledge on how to fight against demons; Beginning of True Cross Order
18th/19th century: Samael joins the order and takes on the name “Mephisto Pheles”. Assumed years by significant days for the drama Faust: 1772–1775, 1788–1790, 1797–1805, 1825–1831
Start 20th century: Mephisto tries to convince Lucifer to not blow up Earth; establishing of Section 13/Asylum
20th century: birth of Amaimon’s current body with adapting the clones of the 3rd strongest Ba’al
8th August 1982: Shura Birth
1991: Shura gets taken in by Shirou for about one to two years
March 1993: Gehenna itself incarnated/Satan gains an “Ego”; Blue Night; Research facility destroyed; Lucifer goes off on his own
27th December 1993: Rin and Yukio Okumura birth; death of Yuri Egin (which I don’t believe until you show me a body)
2000: Shirou tells Shura to live her life
March 2009: Shirou dies; age 45
1st April 2009: Start of True Cross Academy Arc
Start of summer break 2009: Training Camp Arc
Summer 2009: Kyoto Arc and Terror of Kraken Arc
8th August 2009: Shura turns 27
Autumn 2009: True Cross Festival Arc and Illuminati Arc
Autumn 2009: Exorcist Exam Arc
Winter/November/December 2009: Aomori Arc
December 2009: Lightning and Bon get information about the Ba’al from Mephisto apparently called ”Blue Night Investigation Arc”
27th December 2009: Twins turn 16

Inked (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: After spending the afternoon drawing all over your legs in sharpie, you’re worried a certain supersoldier won’t be a fan of your new tattooed look, but if nothing else, Steve Rogers is a man who’s full of surprises.

Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N- inspired by “Ink my Skin” by the wonderful @fvckingsteverogers (their story is super cute- read it HERE) and by the fact that this is how I actually spent my afternoon today… well the drawing all over myself part anyway ;) (seriously my legs are covered in sharpie and I have work tomorrow.. thank goodness for long pants) Enjoy the fluff!

Warnings: none, I don’t even think I swore in this one!

Words: 2,833

You looked around your apartment and sighed contentedly, it’d been ages since you’d had time to really go through and clean the place, but since Steve had been on mission for the past week you could finally dedicate some time to clearing out your embarrassingly cluttered apartment. It’s not that you couldn’t clean when he was around, but when he had a day, or hell even an afternoon off, all thoughts of cleaning and productivity were thrown out the window. Even if Steve insisted that he didn’t want to distract you from your work, you just couldn’t keep your hands off of him if he was within arm’s reach.

You reached down and pulled up on the black trash bag lying at your feet, tossing it over your shoulder with a grunt, you carried it towards the front door and plopped it down by the other two trash bags that you told yourself you’d take out later. It was rainy and crummy today, and the last thing you wanted to do was run across the parking lot of your building just to throw out the trash. With Steve away you knew it was more than likely that you’d leave it there for a few days- with no one around to impress, your motivation to keep things super tidy waned, to say the least- but at the very least you knew you wanted to take out the trash before Steve got back from his mission, just so he wouldn’t have to do it.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"harry has closet knocked repeatedly and SOFT OUTED HIMSELF TWICE and for you to act like we’re somehow in the wrong for listening to the words coming out of his own mouth is offensive and tone deaf" BUT he also choose to talk about girls ( or have ben do it) and he choose not to fight RS about it and you ignoring it/not accpeting it instead of bringing up 2014 is also wrong. It's his closet and he can do whatever he wants. He dosn't need you being a warrior bringing up 2014 every time he talks.

listen up douchebag it doesn’t matter when harry said it because time doesn’t make it any less true.

you seem to be a little bit confused about how the closet usually operates for celebrities trying to build a career so i’m going to give you a quick refresher with luke evans as a case study.

in the early 2000s he was an out and proud gay man in the theatre scene.

In 2002, when Evans was 23 and starring in the West End production of the Boy George musical Taboo, he was very forthcoming to The Advocate’s Paris Barclay. “People come up to me in pubs, gay pubs mind you, and can’t believe that I’m gay,” Evans said. He continued, telling Barclay that he had no intention of hiding this part of his personal life. (Barclay wrote in the introduction to his interview with Evans that he wanted to talk to Evans about his candor in particular “before Luke Evans becomes a household name here in the States and changes his mind!”) In 2004, when Evans performed in Hardcore, a stage drama about the UK porn industry, he reiterated the message, saying that being out hasn’t affected his career. “I did it for myself,” he told London gay magazine QX. “I didn’t do it for anything else — just my own self worth. I wasn’t happy living a lie as I’d been living a lie for the majority of my life, so performing in Taboo was a good time to come out, and it hasn’t bothered my career at all.”

cut to 2010 - he starts booking big film roles (like clash of the titans and the hobbit) and suddenly he’s back in the closet and talking about his girlfriend. it’s almost like - shocker - despite his previous comments, industry pressure was put on him to pretend he’s straight because there’s still a pretty huge stigma around openly gay leading men.

The 34 year-old Evans, who has had steady work in blockbuster movies in the last three years starting with his film debut in 2010’s Clash of the Titans, has achieved modest success in Hollywood with roles in overblown, big-budget films. Also on his resume are two adventure films, The Three Musketeers and Immortals, as well as the forgettable Edgar Allen Poe horror biopic The Raven; before landing the lead in The Crow, Evans’ biggest breakout was a role in Peter Jackson’s three-part adaptation of The Hobbit. As with many up-and-coming Hollywood actors, Evans’ name has popped up in a few news items linking him to giddy ingénues: take this press release-lite story from 2010 about his budding relationship with fellow Wales native Holly Goodchild (a name that seems to come right out of an Old Hollywood star magazine). This would all seem pretty ordinary if Evans hadn’t publicly come out as gay in two interviews a decade ago.

&

Hiding his sexuality came later, once a Hollywood movie career began. Evans, through publicists, refused to comment on his past statements and tended to avoid pronouns in interviews about his significant others, hoping to adopt three dogs and “share them with someone else” in a 2010 interview with Cosmopolitan. Slowly but surely, Evans has risen in Hollywood at the cost of the openness he so clearly prized when first starting out.

now he’s publicly out again. 

But this week [the article is from 2014], Evans finally responded to a question about his sexuality. He responded to a Women’s Wear Daily interviewer asking him if he was setting a new precedent as an openly gay action star: “It’s good for people to look at me and think this guy is doing his thing and enjoying what he’s doing and successful at it and living his life. And that’s what I’m doing and I’m very happy.” The WWD piece makes a note of the fact that Evans’ publicists attempted to keep his sexuality (which they don’t deny) from coming up in the interview, a condition both reporter and subject ignored. And while it may not have been a full-throated declaration of gay pride, Evans’ tacit acknowledgment of his unique status — in a way, he’s been out for years — signals that things may, slowly, be changing for Evans and for gay public figures.

does that ‘straight’ period in 2010 - 2014 somehow erase him being out the first time or negate his pride regarding his sexuality? no not at all. and it’s assholes like you who make it so hard for people to come out in the first place.

the industry is still an incredibly homophobic place and (straight) sex sells. i’m definitely not a fan of the het promo in rolling stone but are you seriously surprised that’s what his team would choose to lean on in order to try and sell albums particularly given how successful it’s been for his image in the past?

he is in the closet and that’s unlikely to change - at bare minimum - until louis’ free of his stunts. so no, me ‘not accepting it and bringing up 2014′ isn’t wrong it’s RESPECTING HARRY’S OWN COMMENTS REGARDING HIS SEXUALITY.

try educating yourself a little bit on what it’s like to be a queer person in a world that by and large does not value your identity and tells you that you’ll never be enough and that being straight is not only the default but the ideal. 

now imagine being a famous person in that kind of environment and keep your judgmental and patronizing nonsense out of my fucking inbox.

anonymous asked:

So I was re-reading Batgirl and in Batgirl #7, Babs starts to say "Cass" and then she says sorry. Do you know why? It confused me when I read it.

[Batgirl (2000-2006) #7]

“Look, you need to relax, Cass – sorry – Batgirl. Relax.”

So I actually talk about this moment a lot but never particularly in the context you’re asking, so I’ve got to thank you for asking me!

This moment gets talked about a lot because this is the first time in-comic that Cassandra is referred to by any name other than Batgirl since her very first appearance in No Man’s Land, and it’s such a strangely unemphasized moment that most people completely look over it as is.

In the original continuity, there was actually a bit of mystery as to where Cass’ name even came from before later writers (specifically Andersen Gabrych on his later run of the series) would retcon it being her name from David Cain himself. But before that, the answer wasn’t actually in the comics but in the Batman: No Man’s Land novelization written by Greg Rucka.

The novel for NML actually has a lot of details and story elements elaborated on or tweaked from the comics (I argue usually for the better, with a few misses here or there) and one of those is that we get more establishment of Cass and Babs’ relationship outside of the initial handing down the mantle of Batgirl. And it’s in the book that it’s revealed that it is Barbara herself who names Cassandra – naming her after the oracle Cassandra of Greek myth. This is a neat bit of canon that I tend to prefer to the later retcon for Cass’ name (that I’ve talked about before as making absolutely no sense in context) both because it makes a lot of sense in-story, provides more connection between Cass and Babs, and establishes more of an importance of the theme of Oracle with the mantle of Batgirl. I like them being so tightly linked.

But that means that there’s an entire year of comics where Cass has a name that no one uses before right now, this moment, in her own series. Which is more than a little odd, of course.

Which brings us to your question. Why is Barbara seemingly apologizing for calling Cassandra “Cass” and then go back to using Batgirl? Especially at a time in the comic where Cass is not Batgirl and, in fact, is not allowed to put on the suit again until she gets approval from Bruce again a few issues later?

Well, the answer comes back to Cass and Bruce’s comparable dichotomy between their identities in and out of costume, or specifically how Cass is something of the living embodiment of what Bruce (thinks he) wanted for himself at the time: a life where the costume is the only identity.

Cass doesn’t have a social life, she doesn’t have an identity, and given she has been homeless since she was eight and on the run, let alone largely unable to communicate with other people before making her way to Gotham, there really isn’t a Cassandra Cain established yet. Not for the public eye, at least. As far as Cass is concerned, she is only Batgirl. And she’s only Batgirl because allowing herself to have anything beyond that would, in her mind, be regressing to the point of who she was before she was given the mantle. And that person, in Cass’ mind, is a murderer. It’s part of what drives her so much. At least at this point and time.

[Batgirl (2000-2006) #5]

Cain, of course, still has a very shallow understanding of his own daughter, but he’s not entirely wrong here, especially in the early issues of Cass’ story. She hasn’t really allowed herself to grow a life outside of her mantle yet, which is kind of like subconsciously reinforcing that she doesn’t deserve those things that “make life worth living”, Cass only wants to use her own life to save as many other people as possible as a form of redemption.

This is actually something Babs picks up from Cass almost immediately – notably because, in this canon, Babs lived through and dealt with PTSD herself – and from the start was attempting again and again to push Cass toward building more of an identity and life for herself outside of the cowl.

[Batgirl (2000-2006) #10]

It’s actually one of the things that Bruce and Babs fight the most about in Cass’ series – which is saying something because they fight a lot over the best way to handle Cassandra’s situation (not really all that unlike divorced parents, which is an entirely different meta for another time). Because Bruce actually admires Cass and lives somewhat vicariously through her situation, often flat out ignoring the toll the decision to not have a break from Batgirl is visibly taking on Cass throughout the beginning of the series.

[Batgirl (2000-2006) #14]

Of course, something Cass learns throughout the series and what Bruce learns for himself in the aftermath of the story Bruce Wayne: Murderer?/Fugitive is that this isn’t a healthy or sustainable choice, for anyone. And his support of this lifestyle choice for Cass leads to a complete 180 from them both that actually strengthens their relationship over the course of the series to the point that it is far more believable that he becomes a father figure to not only her but several other characters to follow.

But that brings us back to the initial scene in #7 and why Babs is apologizing for calling Cassandra “Cass” – it’s got a lot to do with this.

I don’t think that Cass wants to acknowledge that she’s anyone outside of Batgirl at this point. She doesn’t want to value the person she is behind the mask still which goes toward the symptoms of depression we see her displaying throughout the initial run she has as Batgirl.

Barbara is the person who most argues for the importance of Cassandra over Batgirl, and she begins to do so even more heavily from this point in the story on, but it’s not the time for that argument because Cass is in a really low place in #7 after having her costume taken from her by Bruce. So Barbara caves here some and refers to her as Batgirl over Cassandra.

It’s just one of those little touches that adds to the pivotal moment when we see Cass go from seeing no value in her personal life to being genuinely remorseful and maybe even regretful in the climax issue #25

Just Friends

Anon asked: Taeyong angst with the girl wanting him and him not being aware of it! Thank uuuuuu

You wish you could be more than just friends with Taeyong. But you knew that’s all you were ever going to be.

Can 300% guarantee this is not what you wanted but. here you go…? enjoy…?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

A thing that I have noticed is that a lot of webcomic dont use the art as tool for storytelling, there's so much one can do playing with panel size, form, coloring and perspective to stablish a character or narrator mental state, the mood of the scene and the foreshadowing! I dont usually read manga, but recently I read one that hides tarot card numbers in panels and uses a lot of visual cues to enrich the story, like a particular gesture to indicate that a character is lying or nervous, (1/2)

(2/2) a checkered pattern floor to show that the protagonist is being manipulated or just a well-placed flower (flower language), I never though of this things but now it has made more conscious on how I draw comics and at the hour to read a webcomic it has made me pay attention to panels details and not just the dialogue, to really treat comics as a visual medium. Sorry for the long text and mistakes (learning english!), I just wanted to share thoughts and thank you for all your advices!

Back in ye olde days of late 90s early 2000s, basically no one in webcomics could draw. 

Questionable Content, 2003

Narbonic, 2000. Narbonic got very good very fast, though. 

And any comic with even a competent artist would get a lot of attention just for that. 

Nowadays, actual artists realized that doing a webcomic could build a portfolio and even a brand, and the market with flooded with quality art

Ava’s Demon

Unsounded

And it became the Conventional Wisdom among us Webcomic Reviewers that art “didn’t really matter”. There were tons of beautiful comics with terrible storytelling, after all, and they were a chore

Dresden Codak. Note that the thing we’re supposed to be looking at in panel 2 is the metal ring showing that Kimiko’s arm is a prosthetic, but the camera is pointed at her boobs. 

Whereas webcomics with bad art but good writing were good comics.

Dinosaur Comics sets the floor for artistic quality, but is still really liked

Some of this was a bit of jealousy, too. Most people who write reviews of comics are bad at art, and prefer to think of writing, which is the thing they do, as the Primary Driver Of Quality. Then other reason is 

Understanding Comics

But the actual fact of a comic is that art is writing, and writing is art. They’re too intermixed to think of as separate skills

Dresden Codak has bad art. 

Technically, it’s fine. Hell, technically it’s amazing. If I quit my job and spent 40 hours a week practicing drawing, It would take me years to get to this level. But it’s not functioning. The panels are in a confusing order, and the shot of Kimiko with her back arched way back as if she wanted to make her boobs more prominent in the shot both makes no sense for the scene (compare to the last panel, where she’s leaning forward in a way that makes more sense), and is the wrong type of shot.

The point of that panel is to draw our attention to the symbol on the back of Kimiko’s black crop top thing, but because it’s a medium shot for some reason (so Diaz can draw boobs), there are TWO symbols on her back. The one of the back of her top is center-panel, but there’s a gear symbol peaking out from beneath the top that more literally fits the description of “the one on your back”, especially since we have no reason to think that the silver symbol isn’t part of her shirt. It should’ve been a close up of the symbol! So that we knew which one it was! 

Compare this page in Gunnerkrigg Court. This is technically bad art. I could possibly draw something like this in a day with my current skills. But the deterioration of the drawing quality is good art, because it gives the sense that Annie’s falling apart, which is appropriate to the scene. 

Tom Siddel can draw like a motherfucker when he wants to (also this layout is excellent), but for this scene of Annie taking her makeup off, he doesn’t want to, and that’s an artistic choice. A pretty good one, actually. 

Order of the Stick is one of the simplest comics out there in terms of visual style. This panel isn’t that hard to draw (compared to Unsounded, for instance). But it works.Even if you don’t know anything about OotS, this shot tells you a ton. You understand that these characters have been going through doors at random, and you know that there’s a shitload of doors. Despite it’s simple art style, this panel effectively conveys the scale of the challenge. 

None of this requires gimmickry (and sometimes gimmickry is good). You don’t need to be great at drawing to make a panel like that OotS one. 

And that’s just basic shot composition! There’s also stuff like the tarot card gimmick you mentioned, color palettes, and visual metaphor. 

NSFW

While it’s important to remember films != comics, they can be a good resource for this kind of visual thinking. If I’m filming a scene two people talking, I can “draw” nearly as well as any director, since I have a camera on my phone. The difference between me and a great director (besides budget) is where I point the camera, and what decisions I make.

Anyway, here’s a nice set of panels from Octopus Pie, which are great at getting us into Marigold’s frame of mind in a way a good drawing wouldn’t.

Back from Beyond

Originally posted by baraturtles

Leonardo x Reader

Back from Beyond

Prompt: Hi! I love your stories, they’re so cute! Do you mind writing a Leo x Reader where the reader fangirls about Leo out loud?

Note: Okay, so I kind of took some creative liberty here, and I had an idea and just kinda ran with it, so…hope you like it!

You didn’t know when exactly the shift had happened, but it had. The differences were slight, but they were there. You had grown up your entire life in a dimension where the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were a huge part of pop culture. You lived in New York, so you were never far when they were filming the latest movie, and of course you went to see them.

But one day you woke up and things had changed. Your TMNT mug was blank. Odd. Maybe you had replaced it and this was another mug you forgot about. Yeah, that must be it. And then, when you walked out of your bedroom, Megan Fox was sitting on the couch, her hair in a messy bun and soft pink pajama pants. She looked at you in alarm.

“Oh my God, you’re awake!”

“What do you mean? Why are you in my apartment? Aren’t you supposed to be in Hollywood or…not in my apartment.”

“(Y/N), what do you remember from before?”

“I…I don’t understand what’s happening.” Your heart raced. You were wide-eyed and so, so very confused. You pressed a hand against your forehead.

“I’m calling Donnie.” Megan pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “Sit down.”

“O-okay. Donnie who?”

“Donatello. Your boyfriend’s brother? One of our best friends? Don’t you remember anything?” April asked as the phone rang. You shook your head, thinking. Donatello. The ninja turtle. This wasn’t Megan Fox. No. This was April Freaking O’Neil. She was real. Apparently.

Oh, and one other detail. You were dating one of Donnie’s brothers??? When was this a thing? More importantly, which one was it? Growing up, you had always had a little thing for the leader in blue, but that was nothing you admit until you were sure he was your boyfriend. Maybe it was Raph. Or Mikey. You wouldn’t mind either, to be honest, but you were hoping for Leo.

Was this even real? Holy shit. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe you had too much sugar before going to sleep and now you were mass-hallucinating. My God, this was so surreal. Suddenly you felt dizzy.

“Yeah, Donnie, she’s awake. Just…get here soon, okay? All right. Bye.” April hung up.

“Donnie as in Donatello.” You stated. April nodded slowly. “As in Donnie, Leo, Mikey, and Raph.”

“You remember?”

“Not…exactly…” you stated slowly. “I grew up watching TMNT and…they’re real?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “What’s TMNT?”

“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? There was a cartoon in the 80’s and another in the early 2000’s and then a new one in 2012 and there were a few movies and…I grew up with these characters. And I kinda had a thing for-”

“Got here was fast as we could.” The group of large mutant turtles climbed through the window, Donnie in the lead with his first aid kit and Leo close behind him, followed by Raph and then Mikey. They all looked nervous to say the least. “She should be in bed.” Donnie said. He walked forward and pressed his large green hand against your forehead. “No fever.” He shined a light in your eye. “Slight concussion, though.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Raph crossed his arms. “After taking a hit like that, she’s lucky to be ali-”

“How do you feel?” Leo asked softly. You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

“I-I’m okay, I think. Just a little dizzy and, uh, overwhelmed.” You replied.

“Leo, can we talk for a second?” April asked. Leo’s eyes lingered on you for a few more moments before he nodded. She pulled him aside to talk to him privately.

“Mikey, take her back to bed while I set up.” Donnie instructed. You could barely utter a word before the orange-masked turtle scooped you up in his arms and took you back through the door to your room.

“How you holdin’ up, angelcakes?”

“I’m all right.” You stated quietly. He smiled.

“Good.” He set you in the bed and pulled the covers around you. “We were all worried. You were out for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Few weeks.” Raph spoke up, arms crossed across his huge chest. And though you weren’t trying to eavesdrop, you could still hear Leo and April’s conversation in the other room through the vents.

She doesn’t remember anything, Leo. She had no idea we existed.

What do you mean?”

“In her dream or whatever it was, we were fictional. Maybe that’s just how her brain processed everything while she was out.”

There was a long pause. You heard the blue-clad turtle take a breath. You could practically hear his heart break.

So she doesn’t remember anything?

No.

And then Donnie waved his hand in front of your face to get your attention.

“Do you know your name?”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You replied.

“And your birthday?” he asked. You answered him. “But you don’t…April said you don’t remember us.”

“I do remember you. All of you. I grew up watching cartoons and movies about you, but…I don’t remember anything from this…life I lived.”

“Interesting.” You could see the wheels turning behind the tall turtle’s brown eyes. By now, Leo and April were standing in the doorway. Leo pushed through his brothers to get to you. “Leo, why don’t you…You know.” Donnie motioned towards you. “I have to collect some data and do some research anyway.”

Donnie, Raph, Mikey, and April stepped out for a second, leaving you and Leo alone. His clear blue eyes met yours briefly before flicking away awkwardly.

“I, uh, I’m Leo. Leonardo. I, uh, we were, um…” He looked at you again and glanced away, tears forming. “I’m sorry.”

Leo.” You whispered. You reached out for his hand and took it in both of your own, studying each intricate facet of it. “I…the memories I have of my childhood…It was all about you. I…I watched shows and movies about you and your brothers and…well…you were always my favorite.” Your cheeks flushed again. Your eyes were fixed on his large green hand. “I dressed up as you for Halloween with my friends at least four times.” He chuckled a little. “So I think in some way, I did know. I always did. Just not in the way I should have.”

“So what you’re saying is that in this alternate universe, you were a fangirl? Of me?”

“Yes.” You blushed furiously, refusing to make eye contact with him. “I really was. I used to, uh, read fanfiction…about you…”

A slow smile spread across his lips. He leaned into your ear.

“You don’t need fanfiction anymore.” He whispered. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine. Before he could move, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. His muscular arms gripped you tight, pulling you into his lap. “I love you. I missed you.”

“I…missed you too.”

***

It was a few days later. You were down in the lair, watching as Leo trained. The boys had had a fun time so far helping you readjust and relearn the things you had known. But there was something about this. About watching them fight that just…it felt odd. You tried to rack your brain, but you couldn’t…you couldn’t…you could.

Shredder had kidnapped you. He had used you as bait, and then the boys got there and he hit you and…

It all flooded back. You collapsed, tears running down your cheeks, and moments after your knees hit the floor, Leo was already kneeling in front of you, wiping away the tears.

“What happened? What hurts? Are you okay?” His voice was caring, but the questions came quick. You nodded, tears still flowing.

“I remember.”

“What do you remember?” his heart raced.

“Everything.” You sobbed. Your shaking hands ventured up to his scaly cheeks. “I remember us, Leo. I remember everything.”

His lips pressed a long kiss to your forehead and his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Glad to have you back.”

“Glad to be back.”

anonymous asked:

Do RFA+Saeran reacting to catching their MC dancing by themselves in the mirror while MC thought they were home alone

this would happen to me…guilty. im listening to a early 2000s music playlist right now so all the songs are from that except yoosungs

YOOSUNG:

-the moment he sees you omg

-you thought he had a two hour class at college today

-but no it was only one hour

-”MC, what is this?”

-a FNAF song plays in the background as you drop the hair curler

-”yoosung wyd home”

-he just stands there for a moment slightly confused as he listens to the song

-”OKAY, SO, THIS SONG MAY BE ABOUT DYING IN A FIRE BUT DONT WORRY”

-he questions you for a moment but can’t judge you…you deal with him yelling at LOLOL daily.

ZEN:

-he was supposed to be at a rehearsal

-SUPPOSED

-”If I could escape & recreate a place that’s my own world
& I could be your favourite girl, Perfectly together
Tell me boy now wouldn’t that be sweet?
If I could be sweet, I know I’ve been a real bad girl
I didn’t mean for you to get hurt
We can make it better, Tell me boy wouldn’t that be swee- HEY ZEN!!! DID REHEARSAL END EARLY?? ”

-he had been standing there since the Chorus started

-he looks at you for a moment before smiling

-”you’re so adorable wtf??”

-you just drop to the floor blushing

JAEHEE:

-”FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN, NO ONE ELSE CAN FEEL IT FOR YOU! ONLY YOU CAN LE- hey…how are you, jaehee :)”

-”You still listen to that song also?”

-shes been standing there not that long she had just walked in the house and heard music BLASTING from a speaker

-she just tells you to continue and leaves to put away groceries

JUMIN:

-pays no attention to it

-walks in the bathroom

-slightly scaring you

-”hey, did you run into my dad today?”

-you stand there staring at him

-”yeahhhh.”

707:

-literally just joins you

-thats it

-he knows the song

V:

-i hate to say this

-but he can’t really see you

-so like he just asks you if you are okay and why your music is so loud

SAERAN:

-”what the hell are you doing?”

-questions your sanity

-”are you drunk? its only 11 am?”


I KNOW THESE GOT SHORT NEAR THE END AND SUCK ASS BUT HERE YA GO ;~; IM BAD AT THIS STUFF

Poltergeist AU

Alright So Not sure how to start this but I got Ideas for this AU I wanna share. Logic is the only paranormal being in this. The other three are very much alive. Also I gave Morality and Anx names of my own just bc they are human in this.

Morality - “Roy
Anxiety - “Oliver”

Gonna get long so I’m putting it on a read more.

EDIT: (I didnt know if it was okay to tag you guys but I went ahead and did anyways) @prinxietyhell @whatevermate1234

Keep reading

I have an 8 page research paper due on Tuesday that I haven’t started. At all. And it wouldn’t be a huge deal except I’m getting teeth ripped out tomorrow and I don’t know how that’s going to effect me.

So instead of powering through and trying to get SOMETHING done, I’m over thinking plot potential of Danny Phantom. And the fact that the Greatest Enemy episode was the one that got the closest to the truly dark and sad potential of that world and character.

Like he asks Vlad to to rip him apart because he can’t handle it after everyone’s death. As in he can’t handle fighting evil. AS HIS LIFE FALLS APART HE LITERALLY STILL FEELS GUILTY/RESPONSIBLE FOR KEEPING PEOPLE SAFE AND WANTING TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT HE ASKS TO SEPARATE HIS HUMAN EMOTIONS AND GRIEF FROM HIS POWERS SO SOME PART OF HIM CAN STILL SAVE PEOPLE.

And it freaking backfires. His humanity is the only thing keeping his ghost side moral, (screw that second dream catchers shit episode) and that means that all the ghosts literally have NO MORAL COMPASS??? Or are naturally driven to do harm?? There’s so much possibility there.

Also the fact that Sam is goth in a very early 2000s type of way, indicates that she probably had some sort of inherent interest in death and occult culture is a tie that the show almost completely ignores. (It does show through a bit with the freak show episodes)

The fact that Danny’s parents essentially HALF KILLED HIM should’ve put a very interesting strain on their relationship. The idiot parent trope was a poor choice in my opinion but even so they have showed themselves to be competent enough to create technology that not only works but is deadly. Like there should’ve been some legitimate fear that they would kill him all the way and emotional tension with their relationships and confusion on the parents part.

And this is not even getting into the deeper questions of mortality, death, and the afterlife that the shows almost strictly avoids. Does everyone who dies become a ghost? Do they all have unfinished business? If so can they “pass on” if it gets dealt with? If Vlad or Danny were killed would they just become full ghosts? Do all ghost come into existence in the ghost zone or do they just find it after haunting the normal world?

All in all I really do love Danny phantom but man I yearn/ed for a deeper look at such an amazing and unique concept.

One Call Away - Chris Evans

word count - 2000+ (this one’s a biggy, whoops haha)

warnings - Sad. Fluffy. Sad. 

people - Chris Evans and Reader 

summary - Chris wakes up in the middle of the night to a call he’d least expect, asking for him to be there for her… even though he’s taken.



January 19th 3:00 am

Chris heard buzzing in his dreams, and he swatted at the bee that flew around him, interrupting his dream of being home and playing chess with his mom while somehow fighting Trump in his Captain America uniform. His conscience was getting the best of him these days…

Yet still, he couldn’t get the bee out of his head, it surrounded him and the sound got louder, was there more bees? What was this? Bee-

His brain and mind woke up startling himself from his deep dream state to the buzzing next to his ear. He had fallen asleep with his phone next to his face, must’ve been scrolling through comments and emails for too long… from the darkness and stillness of his apartment in Georgia, it seemed to be still night or early morning. Who would call this early? Picking up the phone, Chris became more so concerned than confused, he hit the green and put his phone up to his ear. He heard her breathing heavily and sniffing very loudly. It was a few seconds before either spoke. Her voice came out as a weak whimper, making his heart twinge with pain. “C-Chris? Are you there?” She sniffled on the other line, whipping her nose with her Kleenex. Throwing it amongst the pile of them that surrounded her. Almost shaping around her like she was on a cloud, far away from her pain that held her in a panic state of mind. But no, she was stuck inside a tear and snot covered ring of tissues.

To be honest, (Y/N) didn’t even remember dialing the phone, or even hitting his number. It only hit her who she had called when he finally spoke through the phone, groggy and concerned. “(YN)? What is it? I’m here. I’m here, sweetheart. What’s… what’s happened?” Letting out a sob she couldn’t hold in any longer, she banged her head against the wall of her rented apartment, trying to get this pain that was stuck in her body. Her bones ached, her heart was gone. She was a skeleton of (YN), trying desperately to find her body.

She sobbed loudly and he held the phone away as he heard a loud bang and some mumbling from her. Okay, what the fuck is going on. “(YN)? Wha-I’m here.” He huffed, sitting up in bed, turning the light on next to him on the bedside table. She cried and cried, but Chris didn’t have the heart to interrupt. She wasn’t being assaulted, which was good. But whatever was going on, she needs his help, or someone’s at least. “I’m sorry to-to call…but.” She stopped, sucking in the escaped air from her rapid breathing. “I just have no one else.” She let out a cry and that was it. Putting her on speakerphone, Chris jumped from his bed and grabbed his two-day old jeans on the ground and a sweatshirt laying on his desk chair. His bedroom walls bounced with the sound of her cries. Slowly, she tried to regain her strength to talk but all that could come out where little cries. Every time she just remembered the messages, and that goddamn voicemail replayed in her mind.

“Hey-hey, (YN)?” Chris brought her back down to reality. He was rushing to get out the door. She finally let out a small voice, and used as the vocal cord strength she could manage, “Yes?”

Grabbing his keys, Chris bolted out the door and started his car. Holding on tightly to her tiny, destroyed voice that came from the phone in his left hand.

“What’s your street address, sweetie? I’m coming, don’t worry.” She told him the number and he started on his way. “I’m not going to hang up, sweetheart. I’m gonna stay on the phone with you until I get there, okay?” He heard an okay that was disguised in between sobs and sniffles.

The ride was silent, just the sound of the occasional sob, a harsh intake of breath or the dirt beneath his tires was heard between the two. (YN) felt embarrassed by the fact her friend had to come see her like this. The fact that she couldn’t hold herself together made her feel weak and not the woman she was raised to be. Her mother was a firm believer in never letting a man see you cry. Holding in the tears until your in private. Her mother was warm and loving, but she had to take on a masculine role to keep her rowdy children in check. (YN) couldn’t blame the woman for having a bulletproof exterior.

Finally arriving at her home, he saw her door was unlocked and ran inside, looking around the large apartment for any sign of her. “(YN)!” He called out. At this point, her tears were dried, and only the pain remained tattooed on her body. She banged on the wall, unable to even give a shout or call. Soon she saw his shoes, and then his face. That beautiful face she could not have. That beautiful face that stared at her in concern. His next words sent her over the edge, making every block she had built for her fort against her feelings for the gorgeous man in front her crumbled down. He took down a stonewall building with those five words, “Baby, tell me what’s wrong?”

Her little chin began to wiggle and he knew she was about to let out whatever was causing her this much pain. He saw her nose was bleeding but he knew that she got those when she was extremely stressed out or in pain. Letting out, what sounded like a cough of grief she let him take her into his strong arms, holding her tight.  “I-I couldn’t think of anyone else to call. I’m sorry!” She screamed out, against her screaming sobs. He just kissed her head and rocked her back and forth letting her scream, letting her cry. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s just you and me.” He kept repeating this, as he rocked her softly back and forth. He’d stroke her hair and feel the curls brush through his fingers and smelled the sweet koi koi oil shampoo she loved so much (he had no idea what that was, but the smell made him weak on his feet).

Chris felt the tears pour down his face with each scream she let out, he couldn’t help it. It was like the pain she felt was transferring into his conscious. Chris and (YN) were both very empathetic people, and they felt other’s sadness and happiness.

It wasn’t something many people had together, that’s what made her special to Chris … and that’s what made Chris even more special to (YN). He saw her phone buzz again and he saw the texts. With one free hand from cradling her tiny, balled up and shaking body, he held her phone close to his eyes. Scrolling through the messages that were popping up on her phone, they just kept pouring in more and more.

(YN)… I’m so sorry. / Call me if you need someone, I know he was important to you loves xoxo / Baby call me I’m concerned! Chris assumed that was (YN)’s boyfriend as he rolled his eyes past the endless I’m concerned texts she got from him. If he was really concerned how come he didn’t come to see her, instead he’s probably just asleep all cozy with no fucking care in the world. Dick.

Chris kept scrolling, still rocking her back and forth when he found the cryptic message from her friend. (YN)… Ryan passed away this morning. They think drug overdose but are not sure. I’m so sorry. Call me if you need someone to talk too. When you’re ready to let’s get started on a statement. - Love Mill. xoxo

“He’s gone! He never said goodbye! Why don’t they say goodbye! I can’t do this, I’m losing my mind! Help me, Chris, please. I’m losing my fucking mind, I can’t think of anything but him, and everything and, his girl-girlfriend! She was dating him…they we’re in love!” He nodded, as she began to have her arms spasm that came along with the anxiety and pain.

 “Her pain. I can’t think- I can’t fucking- IT HURTS! I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS.” Chris could only just hold tighter, bringing her to his chest to try and stop the angry fit her body was going through. He could only hold tight and kiss her head harder once more before he let go and stood up. (YN) looked up, like a wounded doe who had been shot. Not knowing where he was going frightened her even more. Anyone leaving know frightened her. What if she never saw him again?

All Chris did was cross over to her dresser and look around, “Do you have your record player in here?” She nodded and pointed to her blue painted bookcase. There was where the player sat, all closed up. Chris reached down and picked (YN) up as gently as he could and sat her on the bed. (YN) still sat in a ball-like formation but her back was straightened a bit more, letting her head show now from behind her knees. Chris grabbed the three records that laid across the top of the mahogany record player, assuming she played these last.

“Pick the one that makes you feel the best, sweetheart.” (YN) pointed immediately at the bright blue one, embroidered with the one name he knew she loved so much.

Chris set up the record player, and with a little static and a few changes in the volume; she soon heard the voice, one that soothed her soul more than words could say, “Frank.” She whispered, up at Chris. He nodded and held out his hand. “We are going to dance, baby. We are going to dance until you fall asleep or your heart is mended again. Okay? Let’s go.” She shook her head, whipping her tears on her already soaked sleeves, “You have a girlfriend… it’s not right. I-I just… I don’t know why I called you. I needed someone and somehow I picked you.”

Chris glanced at her, a little hurt by her reaction but also surprised. She’d rather spare his girlfriend’s feelings than help her aching heart by dancing with me. “Well, let’s just let the record play, and we can just lay here, on the bed.” (Y/N) pulled her head down, defeated with grief she couldn’t disagree anymore. Whatever Chris would do, she’d be happy with. He picked her up gently and got her tucked under the covers. Chris laid on top, as to not have anything happen or anger either of their partners if they found out about this.

Now it was just them, and Frank. Softly, she glanced lazily up at him, sitting up onto her headboard. closing his eyes. She grabbed his hand gently, and he opened those gorgeous blue eyes quickly, looking down at my sad state. “He’s gone, Chris.” I wept. He could only nod and wipe the fallen tear that escaped down her soaked, puffy flamed cheeks. “Sleep tonight, look up at the stars and smile… he’s there wishing you’d stop crying. You know that, (Y/N). I know you do, in your heart.”

His words were automatic, shocking not only (YN) but Chris as well. (YN) said nothing, but lightly held onto his hand. Loose enough so that he could slip out if he wanted.

But he didn’t. Chris wanted to be here in the morning, to help (Y/N) with the realization of her best friend’s death.

“For what is a man, what has he got, if not himself, then he has naught, to say the things he truly feels… and not the words, of one who kneels…” Chris sang along, closing his eyes softly. Gripping her hand just a little tighter, and wrapping his other arm around her more securely. She shed tears in her sleep, and he wiped them away silently. After a couple of hours outside the warm, inviting comforter, Chris broke down and shrugged off his shoes quickly covering himself in her soft comforter. He laid there, as wide awake as the wolves. He’d be here until she was ready. Not leaving until she told him too. (YN) had enough loss and Chris was never going to leave her side until she wanted him to go. Tonight was all we had. For the first time, we just had each other. That’s all (YN) could have ever wanted. His arms around her, his thumbs wiping the tears that still fell even as Frank and Chris harmonized silently to her as she slept. Her heart hurt, but someone she felt a numbing of love with him holding her. She had no one else, nor did she want anyone else.

That bitingly cold air that nipped at his skin that January morning, she still had Chris. For the first time in her life, she had him there with her. Alone and at her aid. She couldn’t help but feel oddly comforted more by the fact that Chris was here, and no one else, just him and her at last.

That whole day was spent doing a whole lot of nothing. They danced to Frank finally, once Chris coaxed (YN) out of her warm, inviting comforter that still called Chris to climb back in. He knew better, though, and (YN) needed to get up and move around, get her blood flowing again and her mind going back to a better place.

They watched only happy movies but still, they ended in (YN) weeping silently to herself, to which Chris would bring her to his chest and let her pour her grief onto his gray, already tear-stained soaked shirt. Oddly, he felt the need to stay longer when it was time to go.

He… no. No. He had a girlfriend, and besides (YN) was taken… and she was like…24? She was so young…but still, Chris couldn’t deny his heart’s wants and needs.

When it came time for Chris to leave in the evening, he closed her front door softly. Trying not to wake what he thought was an almost comatose (YN).

 Chris felt his heart tied to the door like it was fighting all instinct to leave. He wanted to stay longer, comfort her in a more… loving way. Even as he drove off… Chris wondered whether this was just grieving, pity love. Or was this the feeling inside he’d always carried for her becoming stronger when he was watching her sorrow. That little twinge in his heart he’d always had when she was near when he smelled her hair in the air as she passed. Was this an ache that was his signal to go back?

Was this ache she had to go after him a signal to tell him? To tell him she wishes he held her longer last night. That he kissed her all over, instead of just the top of her head, or was this just an ache for somebody to love her. Someone who could hold her in the moment, and let her breath out the brutally painful grief that sat heavy in her lungs still. She wanted more, but he was always gone before she ever had the chance to summon up the courage.

Just like now; Chris was taken and swept away by a sweet woman. She was taken too, but not by the one she really wanted. (YN) whispered a breathless goodbye to herself. Listening to the record that still played on an endless loop as she saw Chris’s car pull away and take off into the traffic of another hectic Saturday evening, taking her broken, bleeding heart with him.


 Feedback!!!!! It’s always helpful to hear lovelies!

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Nothing Like a Lightswitch: M’s Husband’s 3-Month Coma (Part 2)

A week ago today, we published the first half of an interview with “M”, whose husband was in a 3-month coma back in the early 2000s.

It’s one of the posts I’m proudest of in the history of this blog.

This post is even better.

In this half of the interview, M shares what she wishes writers would and wouldn’t do when writing about comas. About survivors. About the strain on families and purse strings.

M, if you’re reading this, thank you. Thank you again.



Aunt Scripty: What would you tell writers to make sure they get right when describing comas, and their care?

Doctors and nurses do encourage family to talk or read to the patient. Having arguments in the same room is strongly discouraged.

They will kick family out if they deem they not taking care of themselves. Family is asked to leave for a little while on a fairly regular basis so the nurses can do their jobs without family or friends being underfoot. The nurses will also come in regularly while the family is there to do a regular check and change IV bags and such.

I did not actually see the more invasive parts. (Moving the patient to avoid bed sores, dealing with bodily fluids, and for the life of me I cannot remember what they did with solids.)

The family or at least the person who is in charge of making medical decisions will be meeting with the doctors regularly for updates they will also like get called for emergency decisions while not at the hospital.

Those decisions can be many and varied. In my experience it was mostly, we need to do x, and we need your permission to do it.

The main point I would insist on is that there is no miracle, “wake up and they are okay.” It is not quick and it is not pretty.

I seriously cannot think of a single book or movie where their treatment of comas and the recovery has not completely snapped my sense of disbelief. Kill Bill comes immediately to mind as it completely doesn’t work that way.

Whatever put them in the coma doesn’t just disappear when they wake up. If it was a medically induced coma it still doesn’t erase the original reason the doctors decided to put them in the coma.

The doctors really don’t want to put someone in a medically induced coma.

I also want writers to realize that awake and aware are two separate things. Awareness also has several stages. The whole “someone wakes up and begins to talk” thing needs to stop. That control over their body is also a gradual process (of course depending on the time in the coma and why).

Muscle loss is going to be a thing, even if it is a fairly short time. Weight loss will happen no matter what the staff does, partially because of the muscle mass loss. PT (physical therapy)  will likely be needed unless it was a very short time period. OT (occupational therapy) as well.

Nerve damage can happen! Even if that part of the body was not affected by the original cause for the coma. Bed sores are a real thing, it takes lots of repositioning by the nurses and luck to avoid them.

Depending on the length of the coma the patient’s body may have extra holes in it that will need to be closed and heal after their recovery is under way (GI at least). They are likely to need to be fed through said hole for a while, eating is something their body may need to relearn how to do.

If there was brain damage it can take up to two years to heal, if it’s going to. Though after that there is little chance of regaining lost cognitive abilities.

On the other side remember how much this disrupts the lives of family and friends, but also remember that these people have to somehow keep their own lives going enough to do things like pay bills (and possibly cover the bills for the patient) and feed themselves.

A lovely thing for writing is that this gives plenty of opportunity for people to take their stress out on one another or throw blame or form closer bonds.

People close to the person in the coma can get PTSD. Relationships that previously were good and healthy can blow up. Friendships can be lost.

As a side note, brain damage can cause personality changes. This can be huge or it can be things that only someone truly close will notice. For us his body language changed a lot. Which threw me for a loop. The little signs that he was open to help or not were not the same. Signs of frustration were different. The little shifts that use to mean he was interested or disinterested had changed as well.


Aunt Scripty: What were some things that happened that you didn’t expect during his care? What did you expect to have happen that didn’t, or were very different from your expectations?

The major surprise at the time was no one else had any idea of how this could have happened either. That it continued to not make sense to some of the best neurologists in the field. Looking back it make much more sense now, brains are weird and doctors don’t always have the answers we want or need.

At the first hospital they actually had him prone because of the pneumonia. That startled and scared the hell out of me.

I think by the time he was at [MAJOR MEDICAL CENTER]  I didn’t have any expectations, I was already shocked and confused.

Looking back something that does confuse me is that no one ever suggested that I or his parents find someone to talk to mental health wise.

Aunt Scripty: Can you talk a little bit about the financial aspects? This can’t have been cheap.

Writers should also take into consideration (at least in the US) that Neuro ICU is not inexpensive. At the time just the stay in the ICU was over $10k a day and that was early 2000s.

Dealing with the insurance was a headache and a half on top of everything else. And we were lucky, our insurance was very good and did not have an upper cap.

After the first few weeks I had a direct number to call a specific person at the company so I didn’t have to explain the whole situation again and again. We still had to talk regularly.

One of the big things I remember was one of the drugs they wanted to try to control the seizures was new to the market. I remember the time release version came out a few year later. So at the time it was really expensive and the insurance refused to cover it at first but one of the specialists wrote up a detailed reasoning of why that drug in particular was important and it was cleared.

I don’t remember what the deductible or copays were but I paid those and had to pay for the transportation out of pocket but did get refunded eventually for most of that.

The eventual total was mind boggling and terrifying, I received the bills for it while the insurance company was still sorting out its end.

For just the stay in the Neuro ICU the bill was well over a million dollars.

That did not include the stay at the first hospital before he was transferred. It did not include the time once he was out of the ICU. It did not include the physical therapy that took months. It did not include the surgery he had to do to get the feeding tube out. It did not include the occupational therapy. It didn’t include follow up care or his meds, that without he would die. I think the meds would have been over one thousand dollars a month without insurance.

Besides the medical bills, life continued to go on around us. Student loans had to be paid. Even though our landlords were amazing and dropped our rent by an insane amount I still could not afford it.

His credit card bill still had to be paid on top of my own bills. I did not have access to his bank account and his parent refused to sign the paperwork that would give me access to pay for just his bills. Car payments still had to be made.

The constant calls from the hospital disrupted me at work so much and I was spending as much time as I could at the hospital that in the end I ended up quitting.

Again here I was lucky, I could move back in with my parents and had some savings. But factor in the gas and parking and car care for at least 6 months of traveling to the hospital or rehab everyday. Oh and food while at the hospital if I remembered to eat.

I had to fight the insurance to get him the physical and occupational therapy he needed to become functional again. Then continue to fight for his meds to be covered as they were changed many times trying to find the best combination.



So that’s where we stand. And personally, all I can say is holy shit.  

I’ll just be over here in the corner, crying softly and screaming at the American  healthcare system.

Thank you yet again to M for her time, her words, her experiences, and for baring her own burdens as the family of a coma survivor.

I encourage anyone with a similar story to reach out to me on Tumblr, or at auntscripty {at} gmail {dot} com. I would love to hear your story.

Be safe, be well, and I love you all.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

disclaimer

Cinema (Jin x Reader Smut)

Originally posted by beagletae

Pairing: JinxReader
Genre: Romance / Smut
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 4,269

Summary: At a movie premier you meet your ex / good friend, Jin. As complicated as your relationship with him is, it get even more complicated when he convinces you to ditch your date and spend some time with him.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut and it’s the first time I wrote something pass 2000+ pages fanfiction wise. OTL I hope you guys like it, It was fun writing. If you want more smut or fluff, or anything with the bangtan boys my requests are open. Enjoy!

——

You laid in bed and tried to assess what had happened in the span of four hours. The taste of liquor on your tongue was something heavy, and floral. You remembered these martini glasses of lavender colored something. He didn’t drink, but you knew when you saw him there you were gonna have to have a few drinks before the night was over. Your plum lipstick was smudged, probably from when you opened the door and his lips locked onto yours. The taste was like opening an old book you’ve read over and over before. No matter how many times you tried to quit Kim Seokjin, you kept coming back to him. That was a book you knew inside out.

At the beginning of the night, you were at a movie premier one of your clients invited you to. You worked in accounting, but it wasn’t surprising when a celebrity or two asked for your services.  Dressed in a navy knee length cocktail dress, black heels, and a black shawl, a few heads turned. The lights from the reporters stung, but you seemed to keep yourself away from their attention. You kept your face towards the door and made sure not to make any kind of eye contact with anyone on the red carpet outside. As you entered the theater, there was a moderate crowd waiting to see the film. Your client, an athlete in his late twenties, was at your side. He asked you if you wanted something and you asked for popcorn and a box of sour patch kids. His hand wanders to your side and squeezes it for a moment before he goes to the concession stand. You grimaced slightly at his pass, but you couldn’t act surprised. How many people ask the person that handles their finances out to a movie? You watched his stance as he sauntered over. You could tell from the way he carried himself he was overconfident and honestly, it was kind of annoying. You recalled how the conversation went when he asked you to the movie. “You’ll love it, no need for you to act so cold. I always give a good time. “  You begrudgingly accepted. You could always leave early if you felt like it. You looked around at the mild wave of people coming in and before you knew it, it was getting packed. Your client was chatting up a few other men you remember seeing on the sport section of the news, still in line. You sighed and checked your watch. Leaving your date waiting was such a turn off.

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Override

With elements from this + this from @thefandomimagine:

Imagine Chekov getting all nervous and lovey dovey around you because he loves you

Imagine being admitted to the hospital and needing a surgery. But Bones is your doctor and he isn’t going to let you be scared. So he holds your hand as you are put under so you don’t feel alone. Not even for a second.

Originally posted by kylos

Originally posted by missawkwardmarvel

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Truth or Lie (Part Fourteen)

Part One

Part Thirteen

Pairing: Rob Benedict x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mention of sexual references, angst, explicit language

Word Count: 4614

Tagging: @sammyxorae @dont-hate-relate-pls @spnackleholicswainer @robbenedictxreader @totallysupernaturaloneshots @just-antiyou @snow-leopardfetishist @i-voted-crowley @robbenedictandco @paddy1219 @your-not-invisible-to-me @fab-notfat @sdavid09 @thatone67chevyimpala @officalprincessjasmine @baritonechick @ashiewesker @mint-and-pastel-pink @lynn-bane @another-stupid-ape @lamthetwickster @just-a-touch-of-crowley @alexa-ann-winchester @bellastellaluna @lexie-loo-2000 @riversong-sam @fayemenelmir @laffytaffyhumor @hudine @gabriels-trix @samanthasmileys @mora-firestone @capital-eyyyy-ohhh @pepperwoodatnight @fangirl-faye @zymmas @wayward-mirage @tardisdementor @annoyingobsesivechick @the-real-tony-stank @littleangelclarence @shanghai88 @owlluver @i-dont-understand-that-url @ginger-rae1991 @crushing83 @oriona75 @thetricksterstolemyheart @feelmyroarrrr @stilldontknowhoiam @mija-novella @janimoon @bookaddictedhedgehog

Originally posted by janimoon


“You and me. We’re taking a little mini-vacation.

You glanced up from sifting through the organized rows of clothes in your suitcase, a confused expression immediately appearing on your face at his comment. The two of you were midway through Friday at Chicon, and he was talking about going on a vacation in the midst of con season? “Wait, what?”

“After this con, we’ll go somewhere and have some fun. I think we deserve a break,” Rob explained, peering over at you from his relaxed position on your hotel bed, his back pressing into the comfortable depths of the white pillows stacked against the headboard.

“We have to go to a convention in Denver in-”

“Two weeks,” Rob answered for you, giving his arms a confident cross as he watched you pull out your outfit for tomorrow so that you’d be up and ready to go early.

“Between then you have-”

“Nothing,” Rob replied, an amused smile slowly etching across his lips as he received a berating look from you.

You abandoned your suitcase and grabbed your planner, a few of its pages torn and crumpled from you flipping through it so much to add in extra notes. You skimmed over the dates between Chicon and Denvercon to prove him wrong, but there were no markings during that time period.

Once Rob noticed that you had finally realized that he was free for that time, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed in front of where you were standing. “I had you arrange some of my things after Denvercon. I just felt that we should work a little less … play a little more,” he murmured, voice beginning to shake with laughter toward the end of his words.

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help me gather mine

summary: maybe a muggle-born hufflepuff who’s enthusiastic about music becoming friends with a pure-blood slytherin who’s fascinated by muggle culture is a long shot, but dan and phil never really did play by the rules. 

basically it’s dumb teenagers at hogwarts and phil knows all about 90’s-2000’s muggle culture and dan knows none. because of this post

 

-

 

Phil can feel the eyes fixed on his back without turning around. He’s been stared at ever since he made his way into the Great Hall and he’s half expecting something to happen by now – half wishing it would, almost, because he’s becoming suspicious of every bite and uneasy in his seat, unsure if he should expect a prank or a hex or a curse coming his way, and generally very confused at what caused this, because he can’t remember starting any incidents with the Slytherins lately.

And yet, Dan Howell has been staring at him for over thirty minutes now, and it’s beginning to make Phil squirm – and he doesn’t think they ever exchanged words but he’s vaguely aware of who Dan is, a year six Slytherin who specifies in charms and winding up the professors but mostly keeps to himself, and Phil’s seen him hang around Ravenclaws and even Gryffindors before but it’s still Dan Howell, pure-blood and from a family of legacy – and even though it’s been years since the war, even though Phil tends to think the best of people, he still doesn’t know if he trusts pure-blood Slytherins, especially when they’ve been staring at him all morning.

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