what is that letter

I think Connor’s actions in Sincerely Me represent how the person writing the letter sees him acting? Kinda like how what he says is what each person is writing in the letter.

So he says something really out of place, Jared
Something sorta soft, Evan.

So then like his actions too, like how he kinda ‘punches a lil hard’ on Evan’s shoulder are also because of the person writing and how they see him?

I’m not sure if this is the best way to explain this. Someone help.


(Hopefully this uploads properly. please see below for important announcement)

Sorry about the mess! My comp broke so i cant properly scan or link bc mobile sucks. There are tags for each part on my blog tho. Sorry! Eventually these pages WILL be properly uploaded but idk how long that’ll be. I can fix the links when i can get to the library, but fixing the uploads could take time.

Im also gonna transcribe the pages because i have cannot hand-letter very well.

Frisk (thinking): What?

Sans: heh, sorry. got carried away. but really, in two years you never wondered what i did before i was a sentry? never questioned my weird physics books?

Frisk: You mean it’s NOT light reading before bed?

Sans: pretty sure i said sarcasm wasnt funny. anyway. i used to DO stuff with that.

the garrison | arthur shelby/nurse!reader

@yjrevolution wanted arthur and his nurse and i wanted arthur to be goshdang happy so here is what i made

You double checked the letter one last time, comparing the scrawl on the page to the careful lettering on the side of the building. You knew it was the right place. You’d already checked and double checked, and triple checked. But just one last time.

Pushing through the doors you realised it was even warmer than it was outside, even with the fires pouring out onto the street. The close air of the pub met against your skin and made it prickle. It was louder in here too, another feat, given the banging and ringing from the furnaces. You made your way over to the bar, scowling at men as they knocked shoulders with you.

“Hey! ‘Scuse me?”

“I’ll be with you in a minute”

You sighed, leaning your forearms on the bar, clasping the letter between your hands. The atmosphere in here was making your head spin and you flicked your eyes around.

“Sorry, it’s busy tonight”

“I noticed. I’m looking for someone – Arthur Shelby? He mentioned this place and I-“

“What do you want with Arthur?”

Keep reading

Letters to Bucky (Part 11)

What?! Two updates in one day! Yes! If you’re missing any updates, catch up HERE!
Hang on lovelies, because this one was rough. Thank you for the love/comments/ likes/reblogs/ comments, you all are the best!

“Move.” Tony wove his way through the group of people in the lobby of the medical center. “Move!” he snapped louder, and the crowd started parting to make way.

“What can I do for you, sir?” the bored looking receptionist asked.

“Just directions to the elevator.” he said quickly. “I need to be up on the eighth floor right now.”

“I’m sorry sir, no one is allowed past the third floor without an appointment. Do you have an appointment, sir?” she didn’t look up once as she recited what she had doubtless said hundreds of times before.

“Are you serious? Do you know who I am?” Tony whipped off his sunglasses, and she glanced up then.

“Handsome and stressed?’ she shrugged. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t need a fucking appointment!” he yelled. “You call Dr Persson and tell him that Tony fucking Stark is standing downstairs NOW!”

“Shouting isn’t going to get you anywhere, sir, now if you would please repeat your name-”

“Oh my god, what in the actual–”

“Tony!” he stopped talking when someone called his name across the lobby. “Tony Stark!”

“Wow, someone in this backwards country actually–”

“Maybe you don’t insult the Germans, huh?” Steve silenced him with a firm handshake and a quick comment. “Captain Steven Rogers.”

“Steve. Wow.” Tony looked away for a second to collect himself, to swallow back the emotion suddenly clogging throat, then met his gaze again. “Good to meet you, Captain. Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You and me both.” Steve led him across the room to the elevators, pushing the button for the eighth floor. “I had kind of assumed I’d meet you at the wedding or something but–”

“Are you getting married?’ Tony asked, hardly caring, but trying for polite.

“I meant yours and Bucky’s wedding.” Steve said, and Tony snapped his head around so fast his neck audibly popped. “And I was completely joking.” Steve added, holding his hands up.

“It’s fine.” Tony took a deep breath. “It’s..fine. So he is…”

“Not doing great.” Steve finished. “But you will understand more when you see him.”

Silence fell in the elevator, until it slid to a smooth stop and the doors opened. Steve went first, and Tony followed quickly, down a long hallway, several medical personnel and down another short corridor until they stood in front of large observation windows, staring at the form on the bed.

“Bucky.” Tony’s voice cracked, and he covered his mouth with his hand. “What the fuck. What in the actual fuck is going on? Why is he strapped down? He’s not a fucking animal, he needs medical attention! Where the hell is–”

“Tony.” Steve said quietly, and pointed, as two doctors carefully uncovered his left arm.

“Oh Jesus. No no no.” Tony shook his head, staring at the absolute mess that was Bucky’s left arm. “What-what–” he stopped talking since he couldn’t do much more than swear, and crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation from the big blond soldier.

“I found him in an abandoned hospital, about a hundred and ten miles west of the farthest place the unit and I Had searched. Not more than a four hour drive as the crow flies, but we just never made it that far. Not in that terrain. It would have taken us weeks to cover all that ground, searching the way we were.”

“Not blaming you.” Tony said, barely audible. “Not even close.”

“Thank you. Because I’ve been beating myself up for days. Ever since I found him. Kicking myself for not pushing the unit harder to find him.” Steve cleared his throat. “He was sedated, handcuffed and strapped to a medical table. He was unconscious the entire time, until the plane arrived to get him out of there. Then he woke up and went to move and his arm- that, that piece of metal.” Steve was breathing harder. “He went to move his left arm, and it’s not all the way, um attached?- so he went to move, and I saw all those cords and wires jerk like..like nerves. And he just…screamed.” Steve rested his forehead against the glass. “Tony, I’ve never heard a man scream like that. His head was all bandaged up, there’s so many stitches under his hair, I don’t understand what they were–

“The metal arm is wired into his brain.” Tony explained dully, not able to take his eyes off the still-as-death soldier lying in the other room.” “His mind thinks it’s his real arm. Thinks the wires are nerves. And it’s nearly severed from his body. But it’s not, so all those  wire nerves are just open and exposed and telling his mind how badly it hurts.”

“Good Christ.” Steve ran a hand over his face. “What the hell were they doing?”

“Exactly what we’re doing, just not as well.” he answered. “The super serum you injected yourself with has a robotic counterpart, which I have been working on. There were rumours that the Russians were working on the same thing and obviously–” he motioned to where Bucky lay so still. “They haven’t perfected it. Looks like they abandoned him half way through, just gave up and left him.”

“So what, they performed brain surgery on him? In some dirty hospital? And then just didn’t attach the arm all the way? I can’t imagine how much pain he’s in.”

“No.” Tony said quietly. “Neither one of us can.”

“I had to knock him out.” Steve confessed. “He was screaming, and I just…clocked him. Took him out with one punch. Wrapped the arm as close as I could to his chest and strapped him into the plane to get him home. They are pumping him full of sedatives all day to keep him still until they figure out how to help him. They seem to think they can’t just disconnect the arm, and they certainly can’t leave it there.”

“One punch?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised and Steve flexed his right hand.

“Before the super serum it might have taken two or three, but not anymore.”

“Side effects?”

“I don’t sleep a whole lot.” Steve said, still not taking his eyes off Bucky. “Ive become a lot more cautious, a lot more aware of my strength I suppose. I put a fifty pound punching bag through a wall when I was just warming up. Ran ten miles on the treadmill at the research facility in about thirty minutes. Maybe a little less, I’m not actually sure. Oh, and I’m actually two inches taller now. I used to be a flat six foot, now I’m six foot two and a little more.”

“Impressive.” Tony looked him over quickly. “So what, you juiced off and took off running across the desert?”

“Basically. I had to stay at the facility for a week, then they flew me back to base and I went looking for him. Not needing to stop to sleep a lot or even really rest made a difference.” he finally turned to look at Tony. “So you’re designing the robotics on our end? Is that why you are here? To try and fix this?”

“I’m here because it’s Bucky lying in that bed. I didn’t have any idea about the arm. But now that I’m here you can damn well count on it that I will be fixing that shit.”

They fell silent again, watching Bucky lying between all those machines.

“Do you love him?” Steve suddenly asked, but Tony didn’t answer, striding away down the hall, yelling for someone to find him Dr. Persson.
“Mr. Stark, I understand you were–”

“So, a soldier gets rescued and has a metal arm grafted onto his body like some sort of Frankenstein experiment  and you didn’t think to call me?” Tony asked, pushing everything on the Doctors desk to the floor with a long sweep of his arms. He hefted a large suitcase onto the desk and opened it with a flourish.

“Well, we didn’t think–”

“That what? I wouldn’t want to see exactly how far along our Russian friends were with the same technology I’ve been working on?” Tony’s voice rose and the Doctor flinched.

“We were just going to–”

“Try to fix it yourselves? Leave that soldier sedated to the point of comatose and strapped down to a bed until he–he–” Tony took a deep breath, not even able to say the word. “You should have called me. You should be glad Captain Rogers called me. Kudos on the super serum by the way. Captain Rogers is the very definition of a successful super soldier and you should be proud of yourselves. Doesn’t mean I’m not still furious, but I will admit to being impressed.”

“Um, thank you?” the doctor said hesitantly, eyeing the pieces Tony was laying out on his desk. “Is that– did you bring an arm with you? Is this your prototype?’ his voice rose in excitement.

“I didn’t bring it with me, I had no reason to, considering you and your team had left me in the dark about this situation. However I had it sent over from New York, and you should be damn glad it got here so soon, because now we can fix this. Now we can fix him.”

“What do you need from me?”

“I need this desk, your lab, and for you to stay the absolute living fuck out of my way.”

To Bucky
–I’m going to hurt you today and I’m so sorry for that. I have to remove the piece of shit they tried to graft onto you. Each wire I snip is going to hurt you, and when it’s all done I’m going to sit in my room and cry into my whiskey because I can’t handle this. But I am going to save you Bucky. I will. I promise.

To: Bucky
– the arm is off, but the ends of the wires are still exposed. Short of cutting your skull open again and tracing each wire, I can’t just rip them out.
–your whole body spasmed every time I touched the wires, and it almost killed me. It nearly killed Steve. He’s a good guy, you were right. Do you know he volunteered for the super soldier program just so he could go out and find you?
-he’s my hero. You both are.
–I’m so sorry for hurting you soldier
To: Bucky
–I had to watch today as they opened your head up. They could pinpoint where the nerves are spliced with the wires, or something. I don’t really understand it all to be honest. I’m not really paying attention to be honest. All I can think about is seeing you open your eyes. My favorite shade of blue. I can’t wait to see them again.
– the doctors are scared to death of me. I think they think I will pay to have them killed if they mess this up. Little do they know all I’d have to do is look at Steve and he would rip them apart.
–we are rooting for you soldier. Please wake up.
To: Bucky
–I attached your new arm today, the one I designed. They pumped you full of that serum they gave Steve to speed the healing, and I grafted the arm right into your shoulder. It’s a clean fit, a good fit. The serum will pump your strength so you hardly even notice the difference in arms.
–this sounds awful to say, but when we tested it, but probing at the impulse switches implanted in your mind, it worked beautifully. Fingers twitched, arm flexed. It worked, Bucky. But I know underneath all that sedation you are still feeling some of this. When you wake up, you will be sore for weeks.
–I am so sorry for that. Sorry for my part in hurting you.
–please wake up from this.

To: Bucky
–I cut your hair today. Gave you a shave. You will need a shower when you wake up, but at least I can see that sexy jaw line again. The scars on your shoulder and collarbone are brutal, but I like them. Because you will survive this. And the scars will remind us of all you made it through. And I’ll try some mouth to scar therapy when you wake up. It worked so well on me, it’s bound to work on you as well.
–wake up soldier. I’m tired of never getting a reply to these letters. I haven’t left your bedside yet, and I’m not going to.
To: Bucky
–Okay, I might have lied in my last letter. I have to be gone for a few hours, dealing with the research team and doctors and trying to figure out what to do with this program from here. But I will be right back.
–i’m leaving a notepad by your bed so if you decide to be an asshole and wake up while i’m gone, you can leave me a note.
–it’s been a long three weeks, soldier, but I’m ready to talk to you again. It’s time to wake up. Please wake up.
–please write me back

The word was shaky, barely legible, barely more than chicken scratch on the notepad.

But when Tony had come back to the room, late that night, the notepad had been lying in Bucky’s lap, a pen dangling from limp fingers, and Tony dropped his head into his hands and finally let himself cry.


@burningarbiterheart @mexicantonystank @chrys-1029 @pretendo-ser-feliz-sonriendo @phanananh @bethy-sue @oooxallusionaryxsirenxooo @soldiersmarvel @freefalling2714 @harmonialcollisions @ninacloverfield @creationfail @twistedsuperwholock @sopherfly @schoolforgiftedyoungsters5 @frihan85 @teddycaca @pictures-for-wonders @i-dont-wanna-take-it-slow @turtledisc @krimzenrayne @buckyssthighs @feelingsinwinter @celiamesam @tangodancer91 @yoshifics @riceycloveed @my-terrible-life @rospergs @black-hood-17 @fallenpoetry @madieorally @sithl0rdv4der @old-fashionedlikethat @shutinbaby @forworks @triniannie82 @mariesbookblog @yumathings @wearegeth @theycallmeskizze @curious-and-persistent @wrenchirps @izzirebels @creepylolai @purgatoryandme @yozoraarashi @thewinter-kitten @thatoneshykid13 @striving-artist @notbirdsbutstars @smilesupbeauty @arishokoth @buckys-soldier @cami-chats @bluefooteddickies @capt-lexi-stark88 @greyfairie @rowansus @emilkalolxd @nonolemog @endlesslyfinite @bethy1975 @tisfan @justjessica131 @musicianriska @totallynotcaptainamerica @schalabi422 @ethiopulchra @icecreaminthevoid @jellykitkins @innocenterza @salimahbicharara-comun @ohgreatblackbunny @anicae @forever-linette @sharkcougarhawksnakescorpion @berserkhamster @remarkable-young-corner @jordansophia15 @charactersadvocatechimata

For you, for me, for Bones.

This is it guys.

We are hours away from Bones last episode. The only constant in many of our lives.

I’m not writing a “Thank you” letter, because I’ve already done that, what I’m writing is kinda like… a pain management guide.

Many of us (like myself) see our entire lives on this show, and can’t think on how life is going to be after tonight. If that’s the case hear me out:

- We are a family, we’ll still be a family. If you’re feeling lost and disoriented, you can come to me or to any of us, boneheads.

- If you feel like Bones was what kept you calm, you can talk to me or to any of us.

- If you feel depressed and without course, you can talk to me or to any of us.

- If you feel anything else you can talk to me or to any of us. 

We are a family.

Many of the boneheads used Bones as an escape for the last years, so it’s normal to suffer with this “loss”. It’s okay, we won’t judge, we understand… I understand.

“Inertia demands that you keep going” and we’ll be here, helpping each other to move on.

Now, together, let’s appreciate the last few hours of this last Bones day, and let us all remember how thankful each one of us is to this show and cast.

I, personally, owe my life to this show. And right now I’m doing the impossible to keep myself up. Oh Bones, Thank you. You’ll forever be loved and remembered.

anonymous asked:

“You can’t die. Please don’t die.” -- Saizo :'(

I got a little carried away with this even though I haven’t done his route yet, so I hope this is right… because if not, well, shit. I’m kind of shooting in the dark right now since I know nothing about his backstory besides what I pick up on during event stories.

He sends love letters to death in the form of a body count. Saizo mind as well have been death’s apprentice, reeking of death and bathing in blood that wasn’t his. It was never his. And this time, it shouldn’t be different, except he doesn’t want to send this one off yet. No, he wanted to keep this one for himself, as if he really could own anything at all leading the life he did. Times like this was a reminder that he couldn’t.

Saizo never had any problems with death until now. Death was necessary, inescapable, concluding, and there were no if’s and but’s about it, which he always liked; but it couldn’t have her. It wouldn’t have had her either, if she wasn’t so damned intent on staying with him. She had to stay with him, she had to be the little lady under the cherry tree, she had to fall in love with him, and he’s angry that she had done so. 

Stained in her blood, he tries to hold a wound across her chest from bleeding out despite it being the size of a kitchen knife; his better judgement didn’t want to tell him that it would be useless with a wound that size and that deep. Her blood surged almost rhythmically out of the wound as a means to mock him, and he’s never been so desperate with sputtering breaths while he presses against her chest. It was hard enough to snap a rib, but he didn’t care. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him, not to her

It was revolting, the way his hands could only sink deeper into the wound instead of closing it, the way blood sickeningly pooled at his hands, the way her body made repulsing sounds as she convulsed before him. He couldn’t allow himself to breathe as if he was the one with a gaping hole in his chest. At this point in time, he wasn’t sure if the one making those gargled noises was him or her, but the winner rings clear when she begins spitting out blood.

“No, no, no.” She spit out her pleas the same way she was spitting out blood, pooling from her mouth and sinking down to the ground. Her cries were a desperate prayer for mercy, and he finds himself echoing her sentiments in whispers. 

This couldn’t be it for her. 

“You can’t die. Please don’t die.” He pleads with her as if she could actually decide that for herself, like her body was’t shutting down part by part while he said those very words. As if she could stop it. “Saizo…” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard his little lady sound so dejected, thrown so far away from herself that she wasn’t going to find herself again. But because fate loves to be cruel, those are the words she leaves him with as her body goes rigid and her eyes no longer search for him. Saizo couldn’t stop the tears pricking the corner of his eyes, nor can he stop himself from hugging the corpse he has in his arms so tight that he shakes. 

She was nothing but memories from then on.

Dear Niña

I thoroughly enjoyed your letter. You’re definitely an original and that’s extremely charming.
I couldn’t have put a face to it but I definitely remember the hand kissing moment. I’m glad our brief moment had a positive impact on you. The hopes that they leave behind something besides an illegible signature. I’m quite sure that if I was again in my twenties we would indeed get along well together. As you say, resonance is evident.
Texas is not on my schedule this year but perhaps sometime before they start pushing me around in a wheelchair we can have that meal together.
You are obviously bright, witty and engaging. *The good fortune your future will bring is already secured.

Much Love

*Does sound like a fortune cookey, doesn’t it?




It would be cool if you sent just the “Thank you” clip in your native tongue, if you prefer English, BUT ALSO NO PRESSURE! 

Whatever you feel in your heart :)

How to Participate: Send along a video clip (30s or so) discussing what Hannibal means to you! You can also send a scan of a letter or text that we can show as an image!!!! Please also send a separate clip of you saying “Thank you!” (in your native tongue!!!) that we can show at the end of the video!!! Send us the name you’d like included if you want that to be shown!

Language: We are a worldwide fandom, please use whatever language you are most comfortable with!!! If you wanted to include a translation we could show so the cast/crew can understand, that would be awesome!!!!

Email: Email submissions to WhatHannibalMeans@gmail.com by April 1st!

Questions: Message this blog, @tyskerrie or @the-winnowing-wind <3 See longer post here: https://whathannibalmeans.tumblr.com/post/157909103628/whathannibalmeans-video-project

Originally posted by cthonical

anonymous asked:

Your "advice" really sucks tbh. "You can't do anything other than (things that will make the situation worse)" wtf kinda advice is that.

If you don’t like my advice go read one of the million other gender blogs out there. I’m not a miracle maker and I don’t know everything. I’m not giving you advice to make a situation worse.

I’m going to assume this is about the sibling question. This is also probably the anon who asked the advice. I cannot make your sibling listen to you. If you cannot approach them, annunciate what is wrong via a letter or words then I would advise going to parents or mediate something between you and a therapist.

That’s what I would do.



170329 [From. JinJin] “♡JinJin’s Letter♡ #9 400 days!!! +1 hour, 22 minutes Haha”

oh no!!! ㅠㅠ It’s past 12 ㅠㅠ
It’s somehow been 400 days ♡♡♡
since ASTRO and AROHA have been together!!!
Yoohoooooong~~ Haha
Time goes by really fast, right~? Haha
A lot of extremely happy episodes and so many memories come to my mind when it comes to A!RO!HA!💜 !!
That just means we’re together so it’s nice and!! it’s even nicer that we can continue being together!!
Seriously~ I’ve always thought so but I think I’m a really happy person~ Haha. Because I can be with nice AROHAs even just thinking!!💜
You’re always expressing yourselves through your letters, fancafe posts, on SNS etc. and
I thought about
how we should repay that gratitude and!!! what we can do is..
Reading each and every one of your letters!!
Listening to you!!
Preparing well so that we can promote healthily and working harder to show you our good sides!!
Wouldn’t this be a way that we can repay you!! Haha
We’re gonna be coming back soon with a 4th album so hope you’ll wait, haha. Because ASTRO always gains strength thinking of AROHAs!! If you’re all exhausted and having a hard time then it’s hard on us too. So!! I hope that we’ll only have positive thoughts and that we’ll walk only on a flowery path~ Hahaha 💜
ASTRO and AROHA, let’s see each other often till the end of time💜
Thank you so much for congratulating us on our 400th day and~ let’s love each other so that 400 days can turn into 40 billion~💜 Bye Haha

Translated by @99pmh | Please take out with full credits!

Many do not discover prayer until they are on a sickbed. And those who have all of their lives piously participated in the public prayer of the Church, discover during illness that they have sadly neglected the treasures of private or interior prayer. St. Gregory Nazianzen, a great man of prayer even when his health was good, exclaimed during his last illness: “The time is swift, the struggle is great, and my sickness severe, reducing me nearly to immovability. What then is left but to pray to God?” (Letters).

During illness, prayer is capable of revealing true and lasting treasures, “for if you have bodily strength, the inroads of disease stop any joy you may have had from that source…because anything that belongs to this world is liable to damage and is unable to give us a lasting pleasure. But piety and the virtues of the soul are just the opposite because their joy abides forever….If you pour out continued and fervent prayers, no man can spoil you of their fruit, for this fruit is rooted in the heavens and protected from all destruction because it is beyond mortal reach” (St. John Chrysostom, On the Statues).

Rules: Using only one band, answer the following questions. Then, tag ten people.
Tagged by @dgalerab. thank youuuu

Band: The Bird and The Bee

What’s your gender? Witch
Describe yourself: Ray Gun
How do you feel?: What’s in the Middle
If you could go anywhere: Love Letter to Japan
Favorite mode of transportation: Meteor
If your life was a TV show: Lifespan of a Fly 
Relationship status: Fucking Boyfriend
Greatest fear: Birds and the Bees

tagging: @lovemelikesunday, @risquetendencies, @ihavenoideahonestly, @lesetoilesfous, @kilzom, @beechichichi

note to self: you’re, what, 21, so why make the little things seem like a big deal? so you’ve graduated for some time now without so much as a plan for the Next Big Thing To Do; so you’re still scared of taking the next step in your career because, surprise, you have such incredibly low esteem; so you’re still single–so what? you’ve got to stop sweating the small things. you’re in your transitory phase. you have to get used to things changing, people leaving. here the universe will just keep hurling random stuff at you at breakneck speed to see which ones become permanent fixtures in your life. at 21 nothing is permanent. stop compartmentalizing your life into hours, into days, into months, into years! stop thinking the little decisions you make become lifetime liabilities! who even thinks like that? the road is long and far ahead of you. so too bad you’re broke now. too bad you’re still unsure of what to do. too bad you haven’t found the person you want to fall in love with yet. but you know what, it’s going to be all right, OK? even when you’re so overbearingly, obnoxiously cautious about the minor things (which, by the way, you really have to do something about, because you’re starting to alienate people, all right?) something’s going to find its way through the cracks in your defenses and change your life. nothing you can do about it. something’s going to happen for you, kid. i promise you something’s going to happen for you.