why don't my edits ever look the way i imagined they would

ckihyun  asked:

36 + Hoshi <3 please please I've been craving some hoshi !!!

words: 1,014

pairing: hoshi x reader.

genre: fluff with a twist, implied smut

summary: “I wish I could hate you”

↪ a/n: this is what happens when you binge watch Grey’s Anatomy and remember how great the show used to be.

Originally posted by visual-17

Your apartment was wrecked, your favorite house plant overturned from when your back was pushed up against the wall the night before. The smell of sex and Chinese food filled your senses when you came to, the beer bottles scattered around and your kitchen island covered with various clothing.

“Hosh,” you nipped his neck in order to wake him, his naked body covering yours as if you were preparing to duck in cover, his arm tightly wrapped around your waist as if you were to disappear from his sight.

“Baby please,” he whispered back as he gripped and played with one of your breast, causing you to squeal and causing his eyes to widen with excitement; no matter how many times he touched you he was still amazed at the affect he continued to have on you.

You pulled out of his embrace and grabbed the closest clothing near you, a bath robe, and made your way to find the rest of your clothes.  

“Do I really have to leave?” he responded as he watched you pull up your baby blue thong and a loose pair of sweats, your face covered in a white tank top while he admired your body glistening in the sunlight, he couldn’t help but run his fingers through his midnight black hair ruffled with memories of the night before,he loved where he was, your apartment floor would hurt his back but right now, watching you make your way around fascinated him, he never saw someone as ethereal as you were in this moment.

You chuckled as he whined to convince you to come back to him, his pleas for morning sex was like a little kid begging for a candy bar at the candy store, you couldn’t help but admire your work, his neck attacked with blooming roses, a souvenir from the escapades of love making, a token of your memory latched to his gorgeous tan skin. You didn’t look any better; your thighs sore from the talent of his tongue and tender areas around your chest to your neck filled with nips and tucks, if you thought you had done a great job sucking a hickey on him, he made a masterpiece.

“I told you I had a very important internship to start, believe me I don’t want to leave our sex infested bubble but we need to work Hosh,” you explained as you made your way back to the shirtless man; you smiled when he gripped your hips and pulled you close giving you one last kiss before he saw his way out.

“I’ll see you later!”

You just didn’t realize how soon you would see the man you were so sure that you knew.

You nearly dropped your coffee cup when you saw him talking to your boss, why was he here? You wanted to scream, this wasn’t at all what you meant when you shuffled him out of your apartment with a peck and watching his ass as he walked away and out the complex.

Dr. Kwon Soonyoung was officially trying to get you fired from your internship, he was an award winning brain surgeon in his field but when it came to life outside the operating room his brain doesn’t seem to function properly.

It really wasn’t your fault though, really.

It wasn’t like he intentionally walked into the same bar you were drowning your stress in and talked to you or led you back to the bar rest room and fucked you in the stall, he never told you what his job was and you never asked; all you knew is that he came back to escape some family drama and you were starting an internship at a local hospital.

That meeting at the bar turned into a full on friendship, dates were turned into study sessions and study sessions turned into anatomy lessons in many different places, moans and whines and whimpers becoming background noise to every single thing the two of you did.

You didn’t expect him to be your superior, you also didn’t expect him to be married, to the pediatric doctor you aspired to be, most of all? You were surprised how much you still loved him, despite the living hell you were currently in.

“Hoshi’s married?!” your best friend and fellow intern, Hansol exclaimed a look of disgust now covered his face, his eyebrows raised as if he were plotting his superiors demise.

“His wife is also working here, she’s hideous and from New York and when I say hideous I mean she’s the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life” you mumbled as you slipped on your scrubs, the 48 hour internship still ongoing and you were preparing yourself for the night shift.

“Can I speak with you?” you felt goosebumps graze your skin when his lips made contact with your ear, you were doing your very best to avoid him at all costs, Dr. Kim was furious when he discovered his employees were bringing outside life into his hospital and you wanted to keep your job, you loved this job, this was all you knew.

“There’s nothing to talk about Soonyoung,” he winced at his name being used when he was being given the cold, deserving shoulder for he was used to you nearly in tears of ecstasy and moaning out in an airy voice when he continued to fuck you. You were addressing him like he was one of your charges, your tone scolding the grown man for his infidelity, your voice telling him to leave you the fuck alone, your voice completely showing him your defeat.  

“You happen to be married and you never mentioned anything about that and I feel like a fool and I really wish I could hate you”

You grabbed the medicine you were told to receive and made your way out of the supply room, leaving behind a man with so much baggage, one you didn’t think you couldn’t not love.

If only you stayed just a little bit longer to hear him mumble how he was separated from her and that he discovered her fucking his best friend, another surgeon, Seokmin, someone he considered family.

anonymous asked:

happy to hear that you had a good time at your concert! if you don't mind, i came up with a request v///v i think it's a little angsty ?? sometimes i get worried for josh since he's a professional drummer, he'll wear himself out and pass out during a show. can you write something where josh practices nonstop and its painfully obvious that he's tired but ignores everyone's rants? during the show, he just drops to the ground unconscious. you & tyler are worried sick when he doesn't breathe well!

thank u so much! i had tons of fun at my concert! sorry this took so long, i didnt like my first draft so i did a lot of revising and editing, but now it’s where i want it to be!! enjoy xx. 


“Jesus Josh,” Jenna says, as you and her walk across the stage, “I got tired just watching you drum.”

She pats him on the back as she goes by, subtly wiping the sweat off on her jeans when he’s not looking, before walking into Tyler’s open arms.  

They all collectively laugh as you walk gingerly up to Josh with a bottle of water.  He smiles gratefully at you, accepting the water and immediately chugging it.  You hear the plastic crinkle as he squeezes the bottle in an attempt to drink it faster.  You’re surprised at how sweaty he is during just soundcheck.  His tank top is soaked through the back and you could see beads running down his temple.

“Thanks baby,” he says with a gasp after finishing the whole 13 ounce bottle in one gulp.  

You make sure to smile and tell him how good he sounded before expressing your concern.  

“Hey, are you feeling okay?”

He immediately nods.  “Yeah, I’m great, why?”

You watch as he continues to breathe heavily, like he just can’t seem to catch his breath.  

“You’ve been hittin’ it pretty hard these last few days, I just get worried—“

“Is that a drumming pun?” he asks, “ ‘hittin’ it pretty hard’?”  

You scowl at him, annoyed that he was trying to divert the attention away from himself, “Josh, I’m serious, you’ve been practicing like… nonstop lately.  I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine baby,” he says, smiling at you, “but it’s cute that you’re all worried.”

You didn’t think it was very “cute”.  Especially once you notice how shaky Josh’s legs are as he stands up.  He wobbles a little at first, and even has to grab onto the edge of his drums for balance.  You watch warily, and open your mouth to make a comment before you’re interrupted by Michael coming on stage, telling the boys they have a radio interview to do.  

Josh kisses you quickly on the lips.  

“I’m fine, please don’t worry,” he says.

You nod hesitantly, “Just make sure you get something to eat before the show, okay?”

He winks at you and nods, walking towards Michael, with Tyler trailing behind.  

“Is he okay?” Jenna asks, joining you as you make your way off the stage.  

“I think so,” you sigh, “just exhausted.  He’s been practicing constantly lately.  He skipped breakfast this morning to come play.  It’s just odd…” you let your voice trail off.  “I noticed he was a little shaky, just now.  It freaked me out a bit.”

Jenna runs her hands through her hair, before reassuring you, “I’m sure he’s fine.  I’ll have Ty make sure he eats before they head out tonight.”

You nod gratefully at Jenna, feeling stupid for being so concerned.  But something about the way he’d been acting lately was off, and you could tell.  You tried to ignore it, you weren’t Josh’s mother, you weren’t in any place to tell him what to do.  On the other hand, you weren’t sure what you’d do if anything ever happened to him.  

The worst part of being on tour is all the waiting around.  Normally, Jenna and you would wander around the venue, checking things out and chatting with the crew.  But today you were both too anxious for Tyler and Josh to be done with their interview, so you find some folding chairs to sit in and just wait.  

About forty minutes later, they find you both.  

“Productive day I see,” Tyler teases as he bends over Jenna and kisses the top of her hair.  She puts her phone away and smiles up at him.

“Hey baby,” Josh coos, doing the same to you.  You close your eyes briefly and grin smugly at his soft face.

“How’d the interview go?” you ask as he pulls another folding chair up beside you.  

“It was fine, same ole’ stuff.”

“Same ole’ stuff?” Tyler says in disbelief at Josh.  “Were we in the same interview?”

Josh chuckles.

“That guy was a nut job! I wish you guys could’ve heard some of the questions he was asking us—“

Tyler goes on to joke about the interview for the next few minutes, until it’s time for them to get all dressed up and ready for the show.  You’re laughing so hard at Tyler’s commentary that you completely forget to ask Josh if he’d eaten anything yet…

You and Jenna watch the show from side stage tonight, the best spot in your opinion.  

You swear the crowd gets louder and louder each night.  Or maybe your ears just get more sensitive.  Either way, as soon as the boys step on stage, Jenna’s story about some elbow pads she bought Tyler, is drowned out by screams.  

After the first song, you notice Josh already grabbing his sweat towel, however it’s not the moisture on his skin that begins to worry you, it’s the way he’s squeezing his eyes open and shut repeatedly, almost like he’s having a hard time concentrating.  

You watch him carefully for a moment.  But the show continues and you try to ease up a bit.  

But there’s something wrong.  Josh’s beat is slightly off during a song.  You watch as Tyler throws you a glance, but they both continue.

“Did you hear that?” you ask Jenna, immediately paranoid.

“What?” she yells so you can hear.

You pierce your lips but decide it’s not worth explaining over the noise.  

At the end of the song, you notice Tyler walking over to Josh.  You watch carefully, trying to read his lips, but it’s impossible once the lights go dark.  He pats him on the back and they chat for a second, before Tyler throws you another quick look.  You try to make eye contact, so that he knows you’re paying attention.  But instead, he just goes back to center stage and continues the show.  

The knot in your stomach only grows bigger when the platform comes out for Josh’s drums.  You bite your lip as you watch Josh drag himself off stage and near the barricade.  You peak your head around the curtain, so that you can watch.  

You practically hold your breath as he balances himself, the crowd holding his hand until he’s able to sit comfortably on his seat and play on top of them.  His back flexes, the muscles tensing and relaxing in various spots as he pounds on his drum.  The crowd is going nuts, grabbing at his ankles and screaming for him.  

You feel infinitely better once his feet are on the solid ground.  

“Your boy did good,” Jenna smiles at you.  You finally peel your eyes off from Josh to respond to her, causing you to miss the way he’s blinking awkwardly again as he walks unsteadily back on stage.  

What you don’t miss is the collective, simultaneous gasp that echoes throughout the arena.  One that makes your head whip around lethally, eyes searching desperately.  You see Tyler shedding the bass from around his neck, and you’re horrified to see that Josh isn’t perched on his stool, where he’s supposed to be.

You don’t hesitate to sprint on stage, even though crowds and attention scares you.  

“Josh!” you cry out, and it’s weird because you can hear yourself shouting his name, and you can hear Jenna calling for help.  The room that was once filled with screams and music, is now hauntingly quiet.  

You gulp hard once you’re kneeling beside Josh.  He’s collapsed on the floor, just shy of his seat, laying face up, eyes closed.

You cup your hands around his head, the skin burning hot.  Tyler quickly unscrews a bottle of water and begins pouring it generously on Josh’s bare skin.  

“Ty, why isn’t he waking up—“ you ask, your voice shaky and scared.

“Jenna’s calling for help, he’s gonna be okay,” Tyler says.  

You feel so useless, just kneeling there, staring at his unconscious body… waiting…

You almost cry out in relief when you see his eyes flutter beneath you.

“Thank goodness,” you exhale sharply, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards your lips to kiss his knuckles.  

Josh looks up at you then Tyler, his face twisted in confusion.  

“What happened—“ he’s asking, just as Jenna’s running on stage followed by a group of crew members.  

“You passed out,” Tyler says, his voice wavering too.  

A couple of medics lean down next to Josh.  They start shining lights in his eyes and getting cool packs to place on his skin.  You can feel your hands trembling as you cling to his.  When you feel him give a reassuring squeeze, you look up to see him staring at you, his eyes filled with fear.  You squeeze back, stroking his skin with your thumb, as if to say ‘I’m not going anywhere’.

As it turns out, Josh’s pulse had gotten dangerously low.  After a few minutes, he had been able to walk shakily with the support of Michael and Tyler, but was further examined backstage.  You sat nearby, listening to everything the medics said.  

“Should he go to an ER?” Tyler asked, he too refused to leave Josh’s side.  

“I think it was just exhaustion,” the medic answers as he unwrap another cool pack.  “Gotta be careful, when you exercise like that, in this heat, that you eat and drink enough…”

You bite your lip, knowing damn well that Josh hadn’t eaten much of anything today.  But you don’t say anything out loud.  Not yet.  

Once everyone’s cleared out, and Josh is instructed to rest, and drink lots of fluids, you make your way back closer to him.

“You gotta be careful, man—“ Tyler says.  “That was seriously scary.”

Josh just nods as he stares down at the floor.  

You narrow your eyes at him, picking up on the fact that something was wrong.  

“Tyler,” you say under your breath, “can you give us a sec?”

Tyler gives Josh one more concerned look before nodding and walking away.

“Babe,” you whisper, gripping his shoulder as you walk up to him, “talk to me, what’s wrong?”

He just shakes his head, refusing to look up.  


“I can’t do it—“ he says, his voice sounding blubbery and full of agony.  

“Do what?” you ask softly.

“I’m not good enough—“ his shoulder slouch even more, his head hanging low.  You can hear the crack in his voice.

“Josh, what are you talking about?” you whisper.

“I was practicing so much because all I want is to be good enough… but I can’t even do that right—“ he chokes out and your heart breaks on impulse.  

You immediately start shaking your head, and turn so that you’re facing him.  

“Josh— no… no, no, no.  You’re good enough, you have to believe me.”

You lift his head up with your finger delicately, making him look at you.  His eyes are red-rimmed and glossy, with deep bags outlining them.  

“I don’t want to let Tyler down— or the fans.  Or you.  I want to be good enough-“ his voice cracks at the last word.  

“You’re so talented, Josh.  And you work so hard everyday— Why wouldn’t you think you’re good enough?”

He tilts his head back and starts wiping some of the tears that have fallen off from his face.  

“I don’t know… I’ve just been really struggling with that lately— always worried I’m gonna be awful.  I thought if I practiced hard enough, I would be okay.”

“Josh, that’s your anxiety talking, it’s not real.”

He nods slowly.

“You have to take care of yourself baby.  That was so scary tonight—“ it was your turn to start crying.  “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, so that can’t happen, okay?”

You can hear the tears surfacing in your voice.  Josh must’ve heard it too, because he looks up empathetically at you and opens his arms.  

You straddle his lap awkwardly and wrap your arms around his neck in a giant hug.  You can still feel how shaky his hands are as they caress your back soothingly.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after you sniffle again into his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, I’m gonna do better.  I’ll make sure I take care of myself.”

“I just love you so much,” you whisper into his neck.

“I love you too,”  he says back, his hot breath hitting your skin.  

Just then, you’re interrupted by a strange, distant sound.  Like someone chanting.  It’s muffled and the words are unclear, but you pull back and give Josh a funny look.

“Guys,” Tyler calls from down the hall.  He pokes his head around the corner, “You gotta come hear this.”

You get up, helping Josh to his feet and follow Tyler down the hall.  He leads you closer and closer to the stage entrance, and you can hear the chanting becoming more clear.

We love Josh.  We love Josh.  We love Josh.

A portion of the crowd had stuck around, despite the abrupt ending, and had started this chant.  

You watch as Josh’s face perks into a small smile.

He pulls you closer into his side, and you wrap your arms around his middle listening as the chanting continued.

“I told you you were good enough,” you say.

anonymous asked:

I don't think John was reading the bible. For one, the book's too thin. It would be difficult to cram the entire bible into such a thin book even with small print. Only the new testament might fit in there, which would exclude Leviticus rightaway (although some of Paul's groanworthy stuff on homosexuality would still be in there.) The cover looks kinda soft and bendy too. Not something you'd expect with a bible edition. And John's facial expression is more contemplative than repressed, I'd say.

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlockedGoing off John reading the bible (I’m not sure it is but it’s probable), do you think John is slightly religious? We know one of his ‘dying’ thoughts was a prayer (“Please, God, let me live”), he was married in a church by a Vicar, and he seemed keen to have Rosie christened/baptised which is not a common practice these days. I sometimes wonder if, as well as all his other issues, John has grown up with something like ‘Catholic guilt’ that might have helped repress his homosexuality?

(referencing this post)

I’m not sure if you’re the same Nonny, but I’ll put these together because of the content is similar and I would answer them both similarily anyway :)

First of all, I’ve actually answered a similar question to this in the past here, so you can read all that and come back, since I will be referencing it in this ask.

First part of this ask: Thank you for the heads up, Nonny! I also have never believed it was a Bible (I’m not even sure where this idea started from… aside from it’s Christmas…). I did a brightening of a screencap (forgive the low quality, my digital version of ASiB is not that amazing):

And as I said in that past post linked above, I do not think that is the Bible at all: too many words:

Even extravagant Catholic / Christian Bibles are simply “Holy Bible” and a graphical depiction of the cross:

I grew up non-practicing Roman Catholic (I went to Catholic school from Gr. 3 to 13, family is Roman Catholic, attended church when we were younger), and we never ever had extravagantly-covered Bibles in our religious ed. classes, though I have seen soft-covered Bible books (my Sunday school class from WAAAAAAAAAYYYYY back had them). And you are right, the book is too thin to be the Bible. I’m more apt to think that he’s starting a novel; can’t make out the title though, thought half-heartedly because I think he was more worried about Sherlock. Or a medical text, or – wild thought – A Christmas Story by Dickens maybe? Sure it’s none of those, but there’s some additional thoughts for y'all.

Second part of this ask: Is John religious? You know, I think it’s in the same way many people are in his age bracket: non-practicing / skeptical, but hopes there is a higher power out there. I would imagine his family was, possibly why he is semi-closeted and has a strained relationship with his sister, and why he still holds onto some of the practices of the church (getting married in a church; christening; the need for god parents for his child), though there is the possibility that it was Mary who insisted on such things though.

But I do believe he has some religious upbringing, possibly a very conservative one, and as such has a lot of internalized struggles with his own sexuality (I think he KNOWS he’s bi, but he has such a desire to “fit in” that he will conform to what society and his upbringing deems as “normal”). He saw what his sister’s sexuality had possibly done to his family, and probably decided since he “had a choice” (I know that’s not the right wording, but humour me here) decided it was best to “play straight” until he could leave home. (Sorry, I know my wording is possibly offensive, but I don’t know how else to describe my thought process here)

This is all just my personal opinion, and I’m not crapping on religious beliefs. But John did grow up in the Thatcher-era, and if his family also supported Thatcher’s ideals, that could have been a rough home life for him.

I’ve talked about John’s possible struggles in his past here and here, both discussion pieces very interesting, especially the second link. 

Oshea Jackson Jr - iTunes Q&A
  • Question: What's your favorite song?
  • O'shea: The Perfect Beat by Afrika Bambatta
  • Q: What's the scariest movie you've ever seen?
  • O'shea: I don't get scared by movies, really. But I'm easily disturbed. When I first saw 'Hills Have Eyes', I couldn't get some images out of my head. Still actually
  • Q: What's your favorite movie starring your dad?
  • O'shea: All about the benjamins. Super Suuuuper underrated
  • Q: What's your favorite Ice Cube song?
  • O'shea: Natural Born Killaz
  • Q: Whe do you think you'll finish screenwriting at USC?
  • O'shea: When I feel like my writing is missing something. I'll know it's time to sharpen back up and get to my cinematic roots.
  • Q: When can we expect music from you?
  • O'shea: Ingratiate I would love to do music. I still snap over instruments to myself. But they might typecast ya mans if I put certain type record. For now I'm focused on my craft as an actor but my older brother and I have started a producing team.
  • Q: Why haven't you used your snap?
  • O'shea: Everytime I'm on any social media I'm just thinking. "Why am I not on instagram?"
  • Q: What is your favorite part in SOC?
  • O'shea: Smashing Bryan Turners office. We've all wanted to break things with a bat before.
  • Q: What do you like to do in your free time?
  • O'shea: Crush my enemies. Not really. But I'm a real Nerd and I am completely unapologetic. When I gotta unwind it's video game time.
  • Q: Why didn’t you release the video for ‘Ain’t No Place’? Was it because of being typecast?
  • O'shea: Yes. With the movie having buzz around the Academy I didn't want any possibility of the song affecting the film. And I didn't want it to look like I'm Ice Cube part 2 out here. lol.
  • Q: Were you nervous about trying out for the movie?
  • O'shea: I was extremely nervous. I had to audition for two years and when you've never been through the process. You don't know what could've made you or boke you during that little time you had auditioning. If I didn't take the role. The world woulda killed me. If I didn't win the role. The world woulda killed me. And I was it was as movie. The world woulda killed me. At the end of the day, nothing was gonna sop me from immortalizing my dad in film. A lot of people ain't want me to get the part. Be he did and that's all I needed.
  • Q: Celeb crush?
  • O'shea: She's taken already. Don't wanna start waves.
  • Q: Did you practice some of the songs with your father or did you learn on your own?
  • O'shea: The performance and studio scenes in SOC are me in my element. What I'm used to doing. So when I was there it's like, wait y'all want me to rap my DAD's songs? I BEEN DOIN THIS.
  • Q: Were any of the scenes hard to do?
  • O'shea: More cowbell #SNLjoke
  • Q: Actors you look up to?
  • O'shea: Denzel and Leo
  • Q: Did you re-record some of Cube's verses or lip sync?
  • O'shea: We recorded the whole album, fam
  • Q: Marvel or DC?
  • O'shea: If you gotta ask. Somethin must be wrong.
  • Q: Do you like your fathers older movies?
  • O'shea: of course. People don't appreciate what a great film Players Club is.
  • Q: Do you ever feel pressure to surpass all that your father has accomplished?
  • O'shea: I've felt it since I was in the 5th grade. (The pressure) it doesn't come from him. All of it comes from me because I don't want to feed into the narrative of talent skips a generation or the whole "was born on 3rd base, and thought he hit a triple." Aspect. I'm so appreciative of my blessings and the only way to ensure my own legacy is to perfect my craft.
  • Q: Worst movie you've ever seen?
  • O'shea: Movie 43
  • Q: Best compliment you've ever heard?
  • O'shea: When I hear that I inspire someone. Being a celebrity is cute and all but it's smoke and mirrors. I understand that this all can be taken away in an instant. FAME is a jellyfish. Yeah it's beautiful but don't you dare get wrapped up in it. So while I do have a platform, the best thing i can do is to encourage or inspire. If not i'm just being selfish.
  • Q: Are you going to see Kobe play his very last game?
  • O'shea: Yeah I'll be the guy crying uncontrollably being escorted by security
  • Q: Would you take a role in a Tyler Perry movie?
  • O'shea: Is it about a single parent overcoming obstacles while still maintaining their strong christian values?
  • Q: What artist would we be surprised you listen to?
  • O'shea: I love Imagine Dragons and F.U.N.
  • Q: How was it growing up as ice cubes son?
  • O'shea: It has it's perks of course. But kind of annoying until you grow up lol. I have to put people through so many trials in order for you to be considered my friend. You don't know people's motives. My friend Tanner was my very first friend EVER. Met in kindergarten. Just said 'hey I'm Shea lets be friends.' After that.....Everyone else know me as ice cubes son. But my friends. Call me Shea. And it's 5 of them. You just grow up thinking different being ice cubes son.
  • Q: Would you want your kids to follow in your footsteps?
  • O'shea: If it was their choice by all means. My parents allowed us to find our own paths. But give everything your best effort because if you don't, then why are you doing it?
  • Q: What advice would you give your younger self?
  • O'shea: learn how to dunk
  • Q: Fave Rappers?
  • O'shea: Dwayne Michael Carter and Sean Anderson
  • Q: Which Ice Cube verse is your fave?
  • O'shea: "G-d damn I'm glad y'all set it off....."
  • Q: What's your fave app?
  • O'shea: ESPN Radio
  • Q: Will you answer me on day? :(
  • O'shea: "Maybe one Day..." - Drake
  • Q: Do you like Justin Biebers new album?
  • O'shea: I would be lying if I said Justin Bieber didn't have a few tracks on that thang
  • Q: Do you think education is necessary?
  • O'shea: I definitely feel that education is important. But I also feel the mind will not process information it feels it doesn't need. Find what interests you and educate.
  • Q: Growing up, what was the biggest problem you faced?
  • O'shea: Keepin the snakes out the grass.
  • Q: What type of films would you develop as a screenwriter? Is there certain topics that you're passionate about?
  • O'shea: I'm into smart comedies. And movies that don't give a lot away so you're not in the theater tryna guess things before they happen. You kinda just take the films scene by scene like life. If I could write a modern day Big Lebowski, I would be happy as an accomplished writer.
  • Q: Your thoughts about ride along 2?
  • O'shea: needs more me
  • Q: Any difference between before SOC and after?
  • O'shea: I'm a lot meaner and nicer at the same time
  • Q: Any tv shows you want to be part of?
  • O'shea: I would love to be apart of Better Call Saul
  • Q: Favorite place to relax?
  • O'shea: In a woman's presence. #CasonovaAnswer
  • Q: Rihanna or Beyonce?
  • O'shea: Beyoncé whole personality reminds me of my mom. I've never been attracted to her because I see too much of my mom.
  • Q: If you could have a superpower, what would it be?
  • O'shea: For everything to go my way at that moment.
  • Q: Favorite hip hop song of all time?
  • O'shea: Y.O.U. by Redman/Methodman
  • Q: Do you like Hockey? What's your favorite team?
  • Q: Do you know how to cook?
  • O'Shea: Only if the BasedGod is okay with it
  • Q: New or Old School?
  • O'shea: 90's. It had more Ice Cube and Dr Dre.
  • Q: Favorite historical figure?
  • O'shea: Mark Twain
  • Q: Dream starting 5 for NBA Basketball?
  • O'shea: Magic Johnson, Kobe Bryant, James Worthy, Kareem-Abdul Jabbar and Shaq
  • Q: What's your favorite word to say?
  • O'shea: It's a cuss word.
  • Q: Star Wars or Harry Potter?
  • O'shea: This can't be a real question.
  • Q: How many Yeezys you got?
  • O'shea: 3. 2 Nikes first editions
  • Q: Would SOC be better if Jason had Eazy with him?
  • O'shea: The fact that he didn't have Eazy is why I would've nominated him
  • Q: If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?
  • O'shea: I'd make everyone more understanding. We'd be fine.
  • Q: Was wondering if you'd like both (Harry Potter/Star Wars)?
  • O'shea: Definitely like both. But give me the force over Magic. #RIPSeverus
  • Q: If you could speak another language what would it be?
  • O'shea: German and Spanish
  • Q: Are you worried that people will only ever see you as your dad's son and not you as yourself?
  • O'shea: Of course. But then I look at people like Kobe, Steph Curry, The Rock...they took their family legacy to new heights. That's my goal.
  • Q: Do you have any tattoo's? if so what do they mean?
  • O'shea: the Roman numeral for 24. XXiV. And before the Kobe talk starts. 24 has always been my number. It's my birthday. 2/24. It just always feels so complete. And my life changed at 24. It's only right
  • Q: Boyz n the hood or Barber Shop?
  • O'shea: Boyz n the hood had a message.
  • Q: Why learn Spanish and German?
  • O'shea: both are used in a vast variate of regions. May come in handy if ever abroad
  • Q: Do you still workout?
  • O'shea: Yeah dude. Still am. But decisions were made and now I'm makin work. #BooHoo
  • Q: What motivates you?
  • O'shea: My family.
  • Q: How are you handling all this attention you're getting?
  • O'shea: in my room ignoring most of it
  • Q: What is the most like you, chocolate or gummy bears?
  • O'shea: Hardest thing I ever had to do
  • Q: Fave Dragon Ball Z Character?
  • O'shea: Kakarot
  • Q: What do you fear most?
  • O'shea: Not being happy is my biggest fear
  • Q: Any advice for aspiring actors?
  • O'shea: Ask yourself why did you start acting. If it's to be famous. You will lose.
  • Q: Favorite disney movie?
  • O'shea: Lion King
  • Q: Do you find it hard to trust people?
  • O'shea: my whole life I couldn't trust anyone.
  • Q: Favorite cartoon to watch growing up?
  • O'shea: Dragon Ball Z or Ed Edd n Eddy
  • Q: How did you deal with people that were only your friend because of your dad?
  • O'shea: I don't deal with them. Bad energy.
  • Q: If you were an animal what would you be?
  • O'shea: Orca. Biggest and strongest in the ocean. And I'm a genius!? In pods running from 12-30 of the homies deep!?
  • Q: What's your type of woman?
  • O'shea: Sexy kind.
  • Q: Number one pick up line?
  • O'shea: You know how much a polar bear weighs? Enough to break the ice. O'shea Jackson, nice to meet you.
  • Q: Do you like apples?
  • O'shea: I got her number....
  • Q: Advice you would give to aspiring actors?
  • O'shea: Be an actor first. And a star 3rd.
  • And the last question, deserves it's own post...That's all folks.

ok so I couldn’t resist i went digging around the winggrower blog because hey it’s tuesday, I came off on-call earlier today so i got nothing else to do but dnd later

And like… it’s a clusterfuck. i mean not that I expected to be anything else due to the nature of the beast we’re talking about here but even then it’s… it’s bad. Like even internally it’s not logically consistent.

Let us imagine for one wild moment that you could actually grow wings. Let us ignore the comprehensive changes in bone structure, muscle structure, breathing apparatus and anything else for the thing. Let us ignore that wings are hands. Functional, active-flight wings in vertebrates as present on this planet come from hands. Four limbs is the baseline, with possible successive loss of limbs like snake got, but this planet has to the best of my knowledge not seen a six-limber vertebrate in… ever. 

ok so let us ignore all that and focus on this quote

Your wingspan is directly proportional to your weight an height. The less you weigh and the taller you are, the shorter your wings will be.

Why would your wings we shorter if you’re tall. I’m asking a serious question. If two people weight 60kg and one of them is 1,50m and one is 1,70m, why would that matter you’d still have to life 60kg. Wingshape in birds (and these people are always talking about birds. feathers are omnipresent) is determined by the ‘function’ of the wing. Birds that do a lot high speed active flight have wings in different shapes than birds that do a lot of soaring or gliding. Birds that have to maneuver in small spaces need differently shaped wings than those that act primarily in open spaces, you get my drift? 

Example: barn swallows weight roundabout 20g and have a wingspan of about 33cm. They’re about 13cm long if you ignore the tail. European robins weight about 17g, are also about 13cm long and have a wingspan of about 21cm. We’re talking about birds that essentially the same size but one of them has 10cm more wing than the other because the lifestyles differ and that’s what determines wingshape. Robins live in hedges and tend to not mouth south in the winter. Barn swallows do travel south, hunt in flight and nest in much more open areas. 

And then they delve into fullgrown p-shifting and ‘adaptions as described in Maximum Ride novels’ and uhhh. UHHHH. Look. Flight is the signle most expensive way to move about bar none. Nothing else is energy intensiv like that. Birds are flight optimated like nobody’s business. The more they fly and the longer, the more intense the adaption (see: hollow bones in swallows not so much in penguins). They have entirely different lung structures because flight needs oxygen as fuck. Their kidneys work differently. their metabolism is incredibly fast for the most part. Their bone structure over all is different. That bigass breast bone exists for the sole reason of attaching wings to it because getting the necessary liftoff requires hella strength which also reminds me that you can’t just stich another set of limbs onto your shoulder blades and hope for the best. Your entire body is the wrong damn shape for flying starting with bones and going all the way to aerodynamics. Humans have shit aerodynamics our shoulders alone would create so much disturbances and drag because there’s no nice flowy curve from your head to your shoulders nooo there’s a neck and then a relatively hard cut and then your shoulders. Much like in hydrodynamics, that’s bad. That’s drag. That’s energy going to waste right there and let’s not even talk about legs and centers of gravity and how mass is distributed in humans vs birds. 

Like even if we ignore the impossibility of growing new body parts to begin with, this is nonsense and worst of all, it’s nonsense by people who don’t even know how birds work. Like we’re missing out on some basic damn research there. 

Listen if one of you, my beloved readership, wants to write birdpeople in some fashion, please take into account how flight works. Or go with ‘magic’. but not this. please. For the love of plaguemum. 

Worth the Wait

things get a little heated between you and your boyfriend for the first time aka nathan stops and gets embarrassed

request that took me 5ever (sorry anon)

word count: 1,890

Taking things slow was a typical thing for you. Often you wouldn’t jump into anything too quickly; you liked taking your time, getting comfortable and adjusting as needed. You never wanted things to be too fast. That was until you met Nathan.

The two of you had been dating for about two months, the first part of your relationship being the normal “we’re not together, just going on dates” phase. It wasn’t maybe until week three when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. For someone who took things very slow, the wait for the relationship to be actually official felt agonizing. It was a new strange sensation for you, but even after the first date you were wondering when he’d ask.

Nathan was different than anything else you’d ever experienced in your life, you wanted to jump in right away, to keep developing your partnership. However, if you had to be honest you did have some doubts about Nathan. Not any in regards to how you felt about him, but it seemed as though maybe he didn’t feel the same way. Sure, the two of you spent an abnormally large amount of time together, which you didn’t mind, but things hadn’t really picked up between you two physically yet. You of course didn’t need physical affirmation from Nathan to know he cared about you, but it sure wouldn’t be terrible. The problem was you felt so invested and ready to quickly jump in that Nathan’s small step back made you harbor skepticism.

All of your friends constantly asked if you and him had “sealed the deal” yet and as annoying as it was, you kept wondering when it would be time. You had only had sex with one person before, and it took you forever to get comfortable enough to them to really be intimate on that level. With Nathan you knew right away that you deeply trusted him to let him see you so vulnerable. In any other case, when you were your normal take things slow kind of girl two months would be too soon to you. People had always teased you about it, but some of the worst decisions someone can make are when they’re rash, unsure and hasty.

Here you were however, thinking about the best way to get things between you and Nathan started physically. He had been over to your apartment plenty of times in the past two months, but tonight was the first time you finally got to go to his. You found this once again a bit annoying with how slow this was all going. You wanted Nathan and you wanted him tonight. Going through your closet for what had to be the hundredth time you still were unable to pick anything worthy enough to wear. You and Nathan would be watching a movie; you figured it would be a little suspicious if you showed up in some sort of skintight dress. Sighing, you decided to opt for the usual top and jeans. You guessed that you would just have to do more with less.

Taking a final glance of yourself in the mirror of your bedroom, you deem yourself appropriate for the occasion and go to the kitchen to grab the keys of the counter.

“Tonight’s the night.” You say to your roommate sitting at kitchen bar.

She looks at you for a moment, “Really? For you and Nathan?” You nod your head and she laughs a bit, “Sure, okay.” You take a step back, offended at her words.


She sighs, “Nothing. I just feel like if it was going to happen, it would have happened already.” You roll your eyes at her. What could she possibly know about your relationship with Nathan that gives her the right to say that?

“Well you’re wrong, because it is going to happen. Tonight!” You take one last look at her, annoyed and head for the door, keys in hand.

If there was one thing that bothered you more than anything, it was how people were constantly trying to control your life and the order things happened in it. All of your friends had a say about your new relationship with Nathan, but tonight it was time for you to fully be in control.

“Do you want any more popcorn babe?” Nathan asks shaking the bowl in his hand. “I’m fine,” you reply, eyes straightforward.

You had been at Nathan’s place for over an hour and there was absolutely no progress towards your main goal of the night. Every time you’d remotely try anything Nathan’s face would grow panicked and make some sort of excuse that he had to check on something in the kitchen, his room, or wherever. Your doubts were only beginning to grow. How could he not want you as much as you wanted him?

“Is everything okay? You’ve been kind of quiet tonight. Do I still smell too much like chlorine? I know it bothers you sometimes.” Any other day you would have laughed at the comment. When you went on your first date with Nathan all you had said was ‘is that chlorine?’ Any other day you would think how cute he was for worrying about something he couldn’t stop. No matter how many showers he took, he would always smell like chlorine.

“No it’s not that.” You look down at your lap and begin fiddling with your hands, a habit you had picked up for when your nerves kicked in. “Then what is it?” Nathan counters.

You didn’t want to be that girl, but it was bothering you so much you knew there was no way you couldn’t be. “Are your all for this relationship?” It was clear he was stunned by your words considering the initial look on his face. His eyes widened, “Of course I am!” You watched his face change from shock to hurt in seconds, suddenly wanting to take back even remotely saying anything.

Nevertheless you continue, “It just doesn’t seem like it. Everything is moving slowly and it just feels like your holding back.”

“I’m not holding back!” Nathan says raising his voice a bit causing you to immediately roll your eyes. “Oh reall-”

Before you can finish, Nathan interrupts your words by placing his lips on yours. Although there’s a bit of a surprise on your part on how forward he was being you soon copy his actions of movement. Both of your mouths move together as you desperately try to convey your thankfulness for this moment, for being there with him. His lips are addictive and you both find yourself connecting and reconnecting ever so often for a bit of air.

Your hands move to his hair, tugging at it a bit. He lets out a groan against your lips and you feel yourself heat up at the noise. The atmosphere felt electric, this was what you had been wanting. To feel the closest to Nathan that two people can be. Moving your hands to his shoulder you pull him down on the couch so you can lay on your back with Nathan hovering above of you. He follows your move, never disconnecting your lips, but leaves a huge gap between your bodies. The space separating the two of you was a little awkward, but as you felt Nathan begin to kiss your neck and leave dark marks behind, you decided to let it go.

The way he was sucking and nipping at every inch of your neck had you letting out a quiet moan, not being able to hold back. You placed your hands on his forearms and began to rub them, soon becoming confident enough to move your hands to the top of Nathan’s jeans, wanting to feel him.

Just as your hand found the button and zipper, you felt Nathan disconnect from your lips, quickly jumping up from the couch and walking around the room with a pained look on his face.

You felt like you were about to break into tears. Was it that bad? Did he really not want you? Flashbacks begin to play in your mind of your last boyfriend cheating on you for not giving him what he wanted. For not being good enough.

The thought of Nathan not wanting you was enough to break your heart completely. When you were with him, you couldn’t imagine your life without him by your side. It was impossible.

Figures, you thought, this is what I get for jumping in too fast. Stupid, stupid little girl.

You feel as though you have to say something. You needed to know what was going on in his head.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask quietly, afraid of the response.

He stops his self-thought and turns to you with a panicked look on his face, “No it wasn’t you, it was me. I don’t know why I did that.” It was clear he was trying to make you feel better, but the comment only made you feel worse.

“Am I really that horrible?” You ask, still on the brim of tears spilling everywhere.

“No, you’re not! I actually have really strong feelings for you, in fact I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way about anyone ever.”

“Then what is it?”

He looks away for a moment as if he’s embarrassed, “I don’t want to hurt you?” You blink at him twice as if to communicate that you’re not following. “What do you mean?”

He turns at least four different shade of red and bites his lip, “I’m just huge and you’re so small, I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you or something.”  

You can’t help but feel all your worry wash away. Your doubts of him not being as engaged as you were suddenly become a thing of the past. “Nathan… You’re not going to do anything to me. I’m not a china doll.”

He sits on the couch beside you, “You are to me and I’d never forgive myself if something happened because of me. I’m nearly 230 pounds, if I would have laid down directly on top of you I probably would have broken your pelvis.” You bite your tongue having to stop yourself from making an inappropriate comment and place your hand on the back of his head, “Please just trust me that everything will be okay.”

He sighs and looks down at his hands before looking up to give you a heartfelt smile, “I really care about you.” You feel yourself break out a smile and connect to your lips to his quickly. “I really care about you too Adrian.”

“I’m sorry for taking this whole thing too slow, I just need a little time before I’m ready to trust myself with you, because you really have no idea how much I want to-“ he cuts himself off and blushes, “sorry.”

Smiling at him, you grab onto his hand and stroke his thumb with yours.

You had been complaining about how often in your life people would try to control you with the pace you took things, and here you were doing the exact same thing to Nathan. All you had wanted was someone to be patient with you and the way you did things. Nathan deserved that and more.

“No need to say sorry. You’re worth the wait.”

anonymous asked:

ever since Hey yah i haven't been !!!! about rock band au. Imagine Jaebum with a ridiculous collection of leather jackets AND piercings (including snake bites!)! like guitarist/vocals jb, drummer jackson, bassist/vocals jy, second guitarist yugyeom and keyboardist bb. And then idk music festivals where GOT5 meets the rising electro duo (Mk & yj) and Jb despises electronic music but damn if that vocalist voice isn't heaven. & he's hot & cute & has no patience for his bs so jb falls SO hard. IDK

My darling anon,

ARE YOU TRYING TO RUIN ME WITH THIS IDEA??? I love this concept so much!! Honestly, I want to write this so badly now, but I already have so many WIPs and a deadline of the end of the month for three of them… but I think I’m going to need to make this happen some day because the idea is just too much to resist!

Because, just think, Jaebum’s an attractive guy and he’s the front man for a rock band, so he has no probably getting dates (or not-dates) whenever he wants them, and rejection isn’t really something he has to deal with often. So when he tries to hit on Youngjae and gets turned down hard, it throws him for a loop, and the casual interest inspired by his voice and his appearance gets stronger, until he finds himself showing up at clubs when electro groups are performing just with the hopes of finding Youngjae again, because he probably doesn’t even have a name to go off of! I mean, I have this idea in my head of their first meeting now and just…

“You have a good voice for someone who makes fake music.”

The vocalist freezes where he’s bent over his electronics case, and Jaebum takes a moment to appreciate the view. Gaze switching to the guy’s face when he straightens and turns, Jaebum is almost a little surprised that the constant smile the other man had worn on the stage is nowhere to be seen. 

“What do you mean by that?” The soft tones from his performance are missing as well, replaced by something harder, and the little rasp in the words peaks Jaebum’s interest.

Shifting his weight to his other foot, Jaebum leans closer, lips tugging with a smirk. “I said you have a nice voice. You should try doing real music.”

The other man’s gaze drops to Jaebum’s feet, and Jaebum almost thinks he’s flustered the guy with his compliment, until his eyes lift, dragging over Jaebum’s form with a purse of his lips under raised eyebrows, and Jaebum isn’t prepared for the naked distaste on the man’s face when their gazes meet again. “Real music. Like what? Tired rock songs with the same three chords and lyrics about some girl who broke your heart?”

Sharp, and almost too loud for how close they’re standing, the hostility in the guy’s voice is palpable, and Jaebum falls back a step instinctively. “I don’t write about heartbreak.”

It’s not a very good comeback as far as arguments go, and he knows it even before the other vocalist grimaces and rolls his eyes. “Then songs about all the girls that want you and all the awesome sex you have, whatever.”

Jaebum can feel his eyes narrowing, and his piercings catch as drags his teeth over his lip. The guy’s eyes flicker from his, dropping to his mouth, and it prompts Jaebum to step forward again, recovering from his initial shock at the other’s hostility and finding his own burst of antagonism. “You seem to have a preoccupation with my love life.”

That catches the other guy off guard, and the irritation on his face is replaced by a look of wide-eyed shock, mouth gaping. For a brief moment, Jaebum feels a rush of victory, but then the guy abruptly bursts into laughter, and Jaeum’s hostile irritation lasts about as long as it takes for him to register the curve of the guy’s eyes, and the bright tone of his laugh, and the aggressive annoyance quickly changes to an aggressive desire to taste chapped, grinning lips.

“Come get a drink with me.”

The guy’s laughter fades out, and he blinks at Jaebum, lips still twitching at the corners. “What?”

“You obviously don’t know anything about me, so come get a drink with me.” Jaebum’s gaze drops from the last remnants of the vocalist’s smile to trail over his frame. “We can get to know each other better.”

A snort of laughter pulls his attention back to the guy’s face, and he finds his eyebrows raised, lips curved in a smile again, but one that does nothing to hide the distaste in his gaze. “As tempting of an offer… I’m not interested.”

Blinking, Jaebum takes a moment to process the words. “What?”

“I would rather eat cucumbers than get to know you better.” The way the guy’s says the word makes his hatred for the food clear, and Jaebum suddenly finds himself at a loss. Dumbfounded by the harshest rejection he’s ever faced in his life, he watches blankly as the guy grabs his case, slinging it over his shoulder and then turns back to Jaebum with one of the most proper bows Jaebum has ever seen. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.”

He doesn’t give Jaebum a chance to protest before he’s shoving his way out of the alcove, and Jaebum stands there, frozen, until his bandmates find him.

anonymous asked:

Could you do a jack Howard imagine I don't know what lol (don't know if your taking requests still)

**Im always taking request my love** 

“I’m not doing this anymore! The bedding is fine the way it is!” Jack was getting frustrated because He’d accidentally turned it pink when he put some of my red underwear in with the white wash “So what if it’s pink! Half the stuff in our room is pink thanks to you!” He tried to leave the room but I wasn’t having it
“Jack get back here! It’s fine, we can just get new ones, chill out what is up with you!” it was only bedding at the end of the day, things turn pink in the wash all the time, not like I hadn’t done it to enough of his shirts.
“I’m going to my study to chill out and edit” he huffed 
“Not until you tell me whats going on with you, you’ve been really angry lately and I feel like it my fault.” I stressed the word ‘my’ because that always got him talking to me 
“We have been trying for a baby for months and nothing had happened, somethings got to be wrong and it’s going to be me, now leave it Y/N I’m going to edit my video, i’ll make dinner later. just leave me for now please" 
So I did, I left him for 3 hours to calm down and edit his video, it was true we had been trying for a few months and every time i took a test it came back negative, Jack felt like this would make us feel like a real and true family. To have a little bundle of joy in our lives, what he forgets is the endless nights up, midnight feeding, 3am nappy changes and so on. But it is was we both want. 
I sat in our room looking at old photos and reminiscing about when we first met and when I was a little girl playing with my dolly and looking at some of Jack’s photos when he had braces, he was such a geek, but he was my geek. 
I had a special box to show Jack when he had calmed down. 
There was a subtle knock at the door “Can I come in now?” he said sheepishly 
"Has Hulk calmed down now?” I giggled 
“Yes he has, I’m sorry I’m just worried about me not being able to, well, y’know" 
And without saying a word I handed him a box 
"what’s this?”
“Just open it” a huge grin had formed on my face, he placed the box on the floor and I joined him kneeling next to the box, He looked in at pick up a pair of tiny baby booties and a little onsie
“And you have these because?” He looked very puzzled and so I pointed to the box again, and there was a scan of our soon to be baby 
“We’re having a baby” I cried 
“what! Why didn’t you tell me!!” He hugged me so tight I thought he might block my breathing!
“Because I wanted to plan this little box, as a thank you for being the most important person in my life and for giving me a little person to look after” i smiled and kissed him hard 
“I love you so much, this is going to be the most loved child ever! And I thought little Jack didn’t work! Super sperm!"he tickled me and kissed my stomach "Here come my little man!” He chuckled 
“Or little girl” I said raising my eyebrows 
“Our little princess, who will look just as beautiful as her mother” He smiled and I melted in his happiness.
Everything was just perfect

crankyandbitter  asked:

NEVER EVER STOP WRITING OR I WILL FIND YOU!!!!!!! Okay, as far as a prompt: how about Jenny and Joe prodding Crane to confess his feelings about Abbie after she goes into the tree, especially when Crane sees Joenny all affectionate and handsy with each other? :)

12 Days of Ichabbie Christmas - Day 3: Confessions Pt. 1

Weeks. They had been pouring over Washington’s Bible, Grace Dixon’s journal, apocryphal texts, ancient manuscripts and forgotten lore for weeks - all to find and save Abbie. He hadn’t gone back to her home - their home - he couldn’t; not without her. He lived in the Archives now, if you could call what he was doing living.

Every day, Jenny and Joe would come. They’d bring him food and force him to eat but there was no taste anymore. There was no point in eating, no point in doing much of anything other than finding a way to free her. He could feel the way that Jenny and Joe looked at him when they thought he wasn’t watching. They looked at him with a mixture of pity and fear. He watched them too, though he doubted they noticed.

He saw the way that Jenny leaned into Joe whenever she fretted over whether or not Abbie had survived. He noticed the small and tender kisses Joe would place on her temple as he pulled her in close. He’d even seen them in a passionate embrace as he went to enter his base of operations but was wise and courteous enough to turn silently on his heels and leave the Archives for a time. Ichabod was glad that Joe had taken his advice and admitted his feelings to Jenny. He was truly happy for them. He was just also terribly bitter and broken that he couldn’t enjoy the same affections with his Lieutenant.

“Let’s call it a night fellas.” Jenny stretched and closed the voluminous edition of ancient Norse runes and their meanings as she stood to put it away. They’d been at it for seven hours straight at least. She was tired; she figured Joe was as well. Mostly though, she wanted to give Crane a break. He’d been going non-stop; she was worried that he would crash before they made any actual headway.

“Might I remind you Miss Jenny, as Benjamin Franklin once said to me: “You may delay, but time will not.”” He rose up out of his chair, his finger hoisted up in true Ichabod fashion. “The longer we leave your sister in the underworld, the less likely that we will be able to bring her back.”

“Not for nothing Crane,” Joe shrugged his shoulders into his coat as he walked over to Ichabod, “and don’t take this the wrong way, but how do we know that’s even where she is? How do we know she’s even still…”

“Are you questioning whether the Lieutenant still lives? After all you know of her and her fire - her fight, you doubt her resilience?”

Joe raised his hands in surrender, backing away from the simmering rage he could feel emitting from his friend. He felt Jenny’s hand press gently in the middle of his back as she slid next to him in support. With her free hand, she grabbed Ichabod’s still raised hand and looked him deep in the eye.

“We don’t doubt that Abbie can do anything. We also don’t doubt that it’s your love for her that will not only save her, but save you too.”

Those words silenced him instantly. Had he been so obvious with his affections for his partner?

“I don’t need saving. She does. And of course I care, very deeply for your sister, however…”

“Cut the shit, Crane.” Jenny tightened her grip on his hand making it harder for him to pull away from her. “Just admit it! Admit that you love my sister. Admit that you’re in love with her.”

“I can’t…” Ichabod’s response was a soft and broken whisper.

“Why not man? You told me to ‘talk to Jenny’. I did and look what came of it.” Joe was exasperated. He knew Crane loved Abbie. Hell, anyone with a brain and eyeballs could tell he loved her. He just didn’t understand why Crane wouldn’t admit it to himself. “Why can’t you just say it out loud?”

“Because if I do, if I admit that I am completely in love with her and have been from nearly the very moment we met, than I not only admit to being a cad and a scoundrel, I admit that this is entirely my fault!”

Ichabod’s booming baritone bounced off of the tomes that lined the shelves of the archives. He pulled free of Jenny’s grip and turned his back to them so that they wouldn’t see the raw pain that the truth made him feel.

“Had I simply been honest and plain with her, all of this could have been avoided. Abbie would be here with us now instead of trapped in some hell that I shudder to even imagine.”

Jenny ignored Ichabod’s grief and stood angrily in front of him.

“First of all, Abbie didn’t go into that damned tree because of or for you. She did it because she thought she owed me something when she didn’t because she’s a stubborn pain in my ass!” Jenny jabbed her finger into Crane’s chest repeatedly as she allowed her tears to fall as openly as his. “Me asking her not to do it didn’t stop her. You begging her not to do it didn’t stop her. Do you really think telling her you loved her would have changed her decision?”

Ichabod looked into Jenny’s eyes. They were so much like her sisters. They shared the same fire and intensity; a trait he’d come to admire in both Mills sisters. She was right, of course. He was being selfish and thick-minded because of his own pain. Nothing anyone said or did would have stopped Grace Abigail Mills once she set her mind to something.

“You should have told her you loved her a long time ago Crane, but not because it would have stopped her from sacrificing herself. She would have done that anyway. You should have told her because she would have gone into that tree knowing how you felt - knowing the depths of your devotion to her. She deserved at least that.”

Jenny and Ichabod both broke down then, holding onto each other as if the other were Abbie. Ichabod cried shamelessly into Jenny’s hair. They were tears of grief - of course - but they were also tears of relief and hope. Saying the words out loud had lifted a tremendous weight off of his shoulders and with that burden lifted, he no longer felt like the way to finding Abbie was shut to him. If anything, confessing his feelings made his path ever clearer.

“You are right, Miss Jenny. She deserved and still deserves exactly that.” They broke apart, both smiling at feeling a sense of calm and resolution wash over them. “Between her fighter spirit and our love for her, we will bring her back to us.”

“Does this mean that you’ll finally tell her how you feel once we have her back?” Joe had given them their moment together but had joined them now, giving Ichabod a brotherly punch on the shoulder.

“Indeed, Master Corbin. I will not only tell her the depths of my love for her; I will spend the rest of my waking days showing her and proving to her how loved she is.”

Blue-sky thinking

Sometimes, I think it has to be more than just coincidence that my building is practically indistinguishable from the county prison. The first time I saw it all those years ago, back when I was a lowly intern with a five year plan, I thought it must be one of those concrete monstrosities left over from the ‘60s, when Communist chic was all the rage and minimalism was in with miniskirts. Nowadays, I’m not so sure. 

No, I am sure. This is how it happened. Some bloke way up the foodchain in management – some guy named John or David, some guy with oily brown hair and a trophy wife and a nuclear family and a pedigree dog and an illegal nanny-cum-mistress – had a serious brainwave of design during a spontaneous session of corporate blue-sky thinking. He was sitting at his desk, one of those overwrought and over-designed glass ones with metal legs and curves in all the wrong places - you know the ones, where your whole office is all desk and no practicality. Yes, he was just sitting there, looking over important things like Annual Budgetary Reports and Capital Gains and saucy emails from his illegal nanny-cum-mistress when the idea came to him, like manna from Heaven. 

This building, whether we like it or not; it’s a goddamn prison. It always has been. Ever since they hung that sign out the front, the one that says Napoleon Insurance in some generic Serif font next to a hideously stylised cartoon of an even more generic Colonial era admiral, this building has been a ball and chain around all of our feet. Every day, we trudge through those glass double doors under that omniscient sign, its goofy cartoon eyes watching us unrelentingly like the fucking Eye of Sauron - are you eating at your desk? I’m afraid we have a no food policy, you’ll have to finish it up later. No, I don’t care if you’re medically excused: do you want to pay to have the carpets cleaned? - and we don’t leave again until the requisite eight hours of community service have gone by and we’ve had enough of dealing with the dregs of humanity for the day. We eat lunch at our desks under the watchful Eye of Sauron, risking life and limb, because if we left to buy a sandwich, we probably wouldn’t come back.

The man at his overwrought desk would have steepled his fingers under his chin as he met the eye of the pudgy man two floors his junior, and told him about his plans. Make the place a prison, he’d have said. Make the fuckers think they can’t leave. And the pudgy man would have swallowed, eyes darting around a room full of desk, thinking am I one of them? Can I leave? Am I a prisoner too? before beaming and shaking the first guy’s hand, then taking the plans straight to the Architectural department, leaving Guy #1 to bask in his own glory at the comfort of his enormous fucking desk.

He probably got a promotion. Fuck him.

It goes like this: every day, the same slew of people, gushing through the doors like sewage from a burst pipe, stinking and reeking of ineptitude like they’ve smoked it all morning and it’s clung to their clothes, and we have to try and clear up their shit as best we can. People crying because they built their house on a sinkhole and their floors caved in. People ranting because they left the gate unlocked and someone stole their grandma. I don’t think we offer insurance policies on brains, but if we did, I don’t reckon the premiums would be too high for the people we see in here.

I used to want to be something. I used to think I’d travel the world, write a novel, fall in love with a bearded male model and fuck him self-awarely on bourgeois futons all over Europe, smoking clove cigarettes and arguing caustically about philosophy before making pretentious love for hours. That was before I realised that cigarettes didn’t agree with me and I didn’t want to sleep with men, self-awarely or otherwise. You can’t fuck women on futons across Europe. It’s too much like the plot of an indie film. It’s too close to the edge. I never wanted to be close to the edge; only as far from the centre as I could get, somewhere without a picket fence and not surrounded by retirement homes.

I live in the suburbs now, but I fucked a girl on my futon in Swindon last year. We fell off. You can’t win them all.

The chairs in the waiting area, where we let our esteemed clients sit for a few hours in the hope that they’ll fester and drop off like gangrenous limbs, are all steel and straight lines. They’re so perfectly aligned that they remind me a little of soldiers at roll call, standing to attention and readying for battle. There’s always a battle to follow, although it’s usually between me and a white middle class, middle-aged woman called Linda, who wants to know why we won’t insure her toaster, and there’s not usually any bloodshed in these wars, as much as I wish there could be. They’re parallel, those chairs, lined up in four rows of eleven and nailed to the floor. The prime number in each row annoys me sometimes, but there are forty-four chairs in total and that’s divisible by four, so I’ll take what I can get. You have to in this place. 

I came here for the first time when I was eighteen, so it’s been ten years. I still remember the first time I darkened these doors. My mother wanted advice on renewing her car insurance, and we ended up sitting for half an hour with a guy called Barry, just chewing the fat. Barry wore a big red tie, like a tongue, and only had hair above his temples; thin little wisps like light brown cirrus clouds, only greasy and lank. When he turned around in his swivel chair to fetch a file from the cabinet behind him, I could see the rolls of his neck escaping his pinstripe shirt collar. It was all shiny, like lard melting in a pan, and I shuddered. I wondered why Barry didn’t seem to give a shit. I wondered how he could turn up to work every day with his cheap suit and his tongue-tie and his big fat neck, and just not give half a fuck about how he presented himself to the world.

Barry works on the sixth floor now, and I haven’t washed my hair in four days. There’s no point. Barry’s worked here for fifteen years and we serve the scourge of humanity every day, and Barry wanted to be a teacher once. But still, he’s on the sixth floor. In fifteen years, he’s moved up five floors. That’s three years per floor. If he keeps it up, he’ll be right at the pearly gates themselves by the time he’s ready to retire. I bet he’s excited.

We have a joke here – and it’s not a very funny joke, but everything becomes hysterical when you’ve spent all day clicking pens and pushing paper – that the floor you work on is directly linked to your salary. You work on the sixth floor, you get six figures. You work on the fifth, you get five figures. You work on the fourth, you get four, and so on. The joke, of course, is that most of us work on the first floor.

It’s funny, right?

I’ve worked on the first floor for five years. I’d probably be more pissed off about it if I had a mortgage, but I don’t. I don’t really have anything. Nothing I couldn’t live without, anyway. And nothing insurable. Fuck that. I’d rather lose everything I have than be forced to file a claim with people like me. Although even our lives are insurable these days, aren’t they? Slap a figure on an existence, measure it by the girth of its wallet and the fatness of its payslip, and that’s what it’s worth. That’s what other people get if it fucks up.

When I die, my mum’s going to get a mangy cat and a huge funeral bill. That’s the way it should be. Who knows what I’ll get when she goes? Some crockery, perhaps. Maybe her wedding china.

I don’t want to think about that.

There was a time when I would have thought about things like that – big things, things that stretch the threads of your imagination and stitch them to other things like a big patchwork tapestry of intangible things – but not any more. Sometimes, I think about whether or not I should move my stationery pot to the other side of my desk, so it’s not in the way of the keyboard. Sometimes, I think about whether I should walk to the other side of the communal office and get a Go Ahead bar from the vending machine, just for the hell of it. And sometimes, I think about whether or not I should go and visit Barry on the sixth floor, just for old time’s sake, and jump right out of his fucking window. But usually, it’s just the stationery pot and the vending machine.

I still remember all the big thoughts I’ve had, though. Sometimes, I think you don’t ever really meet people; just facets of them, and you never know any more than what they want to get across. That was one of mine. Copyright Me: My Diary, edition 1. One of the great philosophies of our time. And war is just big men with big guns and lots of shrapnel. That’s another one of mine. A regular Nietzsche, teenage me. Only more optimistic. Not that that’s hard.

I could leave, couldn’t I? Any day now, I could hand in my resignation, tip over my desk and scream a big fuck you to Debbie at the desk in front of me, who always scratches the back of her neck until it’s red and then acts irritated because it hurts. To Mick on the third floor, who’s technically my boss but has at least six bosses himself, and he gives Christmas cards to every single one of them. Even to Barry, just for being so high up when his ties are still so awful and he has even less hair than he did that first time I met him. Mostly, I think I want to scream a big fuck you to the guy at that first corporate blue-sky thinking meeting, the guy who made this building a prison and forgot to put the bars on the windows, so we can still see what we’re missing in the outside world as we sit here in our discount office wear and tap through our carpal tunnel on company issued keyboards.

But I won’t leave. I won’t. I won’t travel the world, won’t write a novel or fuck girls on futons across Europe, because leaving is too close to the edge. I’ve never been one for the precipice. Too scared of heights; not just of falling, but of looking down and feeling small, or perhaps feeling too big; staring down at the people below, like ants building castles.

No, I won’t leave. I’ll come in again tomorrow, look up at that great big sign with the jovial cartoon admiral, the words Napoleon Insurance, and I’ll talk to someone called John Smith, who wants to know why we won’t pay for him to get the carpets of his house replaced because he built his house on a floodplain and it rained a lot in January, and then I’ll eat my lunch at my desk while the Eye of Sauron roams, and I won’t even think about leaving, not once, and then I’ll ask Barry what he thinks I should do about John Smith, and I’ll do it, and I’ll go home. And I’ll come in the next day, and I still won’t leave, and John Smith might get his carpets replaced, or he might not, and Barry will still have a neck like lard, and Debbie will still pick her skin until it bleeds, and I will still look at that sign and rue it, fucking rue it, and I’ll stay. Chained to my desk by the need to pay my rent and not fail, because choosing to stay is better than failing to leave. Choosing to stand still in purgatory is better than jumping and ending up in Hell.

Napoleon Insurance: It’s a price and a promise. That’s the slogan. That’s the truth.

How’s that for blue-sky thinking?

Sunlight, firelight, starlight

Adrien knows he shouldn’t do it. Adrien knows that there will be consequences to this action and Adrien knows this is probably a bad idea but Adrien is not here on this rooftop, Chat is, and Chat is tired of staring up at the girl who hung the moon and wishing, and every fiber of his being is telling him to leave that behind and take the chance to do something with someone who is with him, on his level. 

So he does.

Read on Ao3

Words: 2782, Language: English

  • Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
  • Rating: Teen and Up 
  • Warning: None
  • Categories: M/F
  • Relationships: Ladynoir (specifically Marichat)

The result of me being marichat trash at 4 am, and thinking “Oh boy I’ve never written a kiss before I should try to do that.”

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look I just want Kent Parson to have a happily ever after too, okay?

Kent gets the wedding invitation in the mail and immediately calls Jack.

“You’re getting married?” he practically shouts into the phone.

“Yeah, we’re engaged,” Jack answers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Things were kinda hectic,” Jack says. “Besides, the media knows, it was all over the news. I didn’t think I had to call you personally and tell you again.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Kent says. “Y’know because I’ve been a little busy in the playoffs.” 

Jack lets out a chuckle. “You are coming right?”

“Sure. Unless it falls on my cup day then I think I’ll pass,” Kent answers with a smirk.

“Getting cocky are we now,” Bittle says. Kent’s not surprised that he’s probably on speaker phone.

“You know it, Bits.” 

There’s a knock on his door. “Hey, guys, congrats, really. I gotta go though, we’ll talk later?” he asks, getting up from the couch.

“Thanks, Kenny.”

Kent hangs up the phone and opens his door to see Jonesy, his teammate. Jonesy’s probably his best friend on the team, he’s goofy and fun, but always intense when it comes to hockey. 

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high school musical iii sentence meme
  • "This is the last time to get it right."
  • "Right now I can hardly breathe."
  • "This is the last time to get it right."
  • "Push harder!"
  • "I'm saving for a new fuel pump."
  • "Mmhm. Save faster."
  • "I want one of everything."
  • "What, are we celebrating or something?"
  • "Your room is way cool."
  • "You were in my room?"
  • "We should hang out tonight, man!"
  • "You're the second girl I've ever had up here."
  • "This place is so cool."
  • "Did I just say that?"
  • "I'm proud of you."
  • "It's a thousand one hundred and fifty-three miles from here."
  • "I wish it would all just stop. At least just slow down."
  • "I wish this moment was ours to own it and that it would never leave."
  • "Where you are is where I should be too."
  • "I'm looking at you and my heart loves the view."
  • "Right now there's you and me."
  • "Tomorrow can wait."
  • "Is this a pirate's wheel?"
  • "Oh! Very cute."
  • "Don't break him."
  • "She's so sweet."
  • "What are you? I mean, who are you?"
  • "I noticed on the board that you're in need of a personal assistant."
  • "How do you know my schedule?"
  • "One packet of sweetener?"
  • "If you own any orange, get rid of it."
  • "Don't be the last to pick up your tickets."
  • "Whats the lunch special in the cafeteria today?"
  • "I was thinking I'd select something modest."
  • "I'm moving into the library."
  • "We've got a yearbook to edit."
  • "This is our last chance to do something together."
  • "Oh, yipee."
  • "It's about all of you."
  • "Genius."
  • "I'm already packed."
  • "They got my letter?"
  • "Nice, guys. That's pretty funny. So, who's the big comedian?"
  • "Hoops all the way."
  • "I'm going to be the President of the United States of America."
  • "Golly gee, how adorable."
  • "What do I want? Gosh, I wouldn't know where to begin."
  • "How can you think of food at a time like this?"
  • "He seemed surprised to me."
  • "Imagine having everything we've ever dreamed."
  • "A part for me?"
  • "Sound exciting?"
  • "With you we can win."
  • "Don't you want it all?"
  • "I want it all."
  • "They're gonna love me!"
  • "When Broadway knows your name, you know that you're a star!"
  • "She wants you on the show."
  • "We want it all."
  • "We're twins. They have to take us both."
  • "I don't know. Just do it."
  • "I need you right away. Look up."
  • "This has two weeks detention written all over it."
  • "Which one do you think I should wear?"
  • "I've never been asked to a prom. But this kind of sounds like an invitation."
  • "I've never been to a dance. Much less a prom."
  • "Take my hand"
  • "Keep your eyes locked on my eyes."
  • "Won't you promise me, we'll keep dancing where ever we go next."
  • "Can I have this dance?"
  • "Together or not our dance won't stop."
  • "What we have is worth fighting for."
  • "You know I believe that we were meant to be."
  • "So does that mean yes?"
  • "Where's our clothes?"
  • "Yearbook opportunity!"
  • "You think I'd be spending all of my time up there if it wasn't for you?"
  • "Why is that so hard to admit?"
  • "I still have decisions to make too."
  • "I interrupted something, didn't I?"
  • "Speaking of homework."
  • "Be careful, they're still hot."
  • "Hey, what's right is right."
  • "If that's what you call an invitation, you'll be dancing with yourself."
  • "I'm asking you to prom."
  • "I'm sorry, I can't hear you. It's so loud in here."
  • "Will you please be my date to the senior prom?"
  • "Guess now it's official."
  • "I don't think we have the choice."
  • "It's gonna be a night to remember."
  • "Hey, you've been in there for an hour."
  • "Stop doing that!"
  • "The difference being, I can actually carry a tune."
  • "Want to go to lunch sometime?"
  • "Your mom must be so proud."
  • "You can't get rid of me that easily."
  • "This better be good."
  • "I've got a lot things I have to do."
  • "Whatever happens, I know I've got you."
  • "I'll pick you up eight."
  • "All I wanna do is be with you."
  • "Nothing can break us apart."
  • "There's nothing we can't do."
  • "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."
  • "The boys are back."
  • "I just want my future to be my future."
  • "For the record, I was a much better super hero than you."
  • "Gonna wake up the neighborhood."
  • "No one can stop us now."
  • "That's not what I wanted to hear."
  • "Why? So I can whoop your butt again?"
  • "You should be celebrating, not keeping a secret."
  • "Your future is calling loud and clear."
  • "Maybe I'll stay here next year."
  • "I mean, I get it that he's your first crush but..."
  • "There will be other guys."
  • "Not everything has to change."
  • "We've already proved it works."
  • "I realized I haven't offered my congratulations."
  • "I don't know what you're talking about."
  • "You really didn't know?"
  • "The only thing that could possibly be holding her back would be you."
  • "Special delivery! Margarita pizza, just the way you like it."
  • "What's a picnic without chocolate covered strawberries?"
  • "Is that what you were trying to tell me?"
  • "You gotta go. It's the right thing to do."
  • "Nothing is gonna slow down."
  • "You don't have to say anything else."
  • "I'm a lot better at goodbyes than you."
  • "I guess I should have known better."
  • "Just walk away and don't look back."
  • "It my heart breaks it's gonna hurt so bad."
  • "I don't think I'll survive a goodbye again."
  • "Let's rise to the occasion."
  • "There's nothing to tell."
  • "Just trust your heart."
  • "I want my own thing so bad I'm gonna scream."
  • "I'm gonna fight to find myself."
  • "It's like nothing works without you."
  • "I know I'm not supposed to be here."
  • "You seem very comfortable up there."
  • "You're easier to dance with than her."
  • "I just showed my mom the tux."
  • "We need to talk."
  • "It's taken me two weeks to be away from you."
  • "I don't think I can do it. I think I've run out of good byes."
  • "She's not coming back."
  • "Everybody knows you don't bring the girl with you after high school."
  • "And hey, look, I am right there with you."
  • "I don't believe this."
  • "What is it with you and trees?"
  • "You look handsome."
  • "Take my hand. I'll take the lead."
  • "You know I'll catch you through it all."
  • "My heart is where ever you are."
  • "What are you? Some sort of muppet gangster?"
  • "Ew! That is so gross."
  • "High school wasn't meant to last forever."
  • "Aww! Cute pants!"
  • "Oh go for it. Save the day. Whoopee."
  • "That's my dress!"
  • "But you were so loyal, so sweet."
  • "You should try it sometime."
  • "Surprise!"
  • "You did it. You graduated."
  • "I choose the person who inspires my heart. "
  • "I picked a school that's exactly 32.7 miles away from you."
  • "I never thought I'd hear my dad say that."
  • "We really are all in this together."
  • "Who says we have to let it go?"

I heard the door close. I listened to the taxi drive away. Then there was just silence. Unbearable, painful silence. And I was alone. Again.

2 months later

And you haven’t heard from him AT ALL?”, your friend, and colleague, asked you.

Nope. I talked to his mum a week after. She asked what happened, because he wouldn’t talk to her about it and he wasn’t the same. I told her we broke up, because I couldn’t handle his life and she understood, but said she was sorry. And that’s the last I heard. Everything else I know from the media, which is not necessarily the truth.”



Nothing. I just can’t believe he just went back to his job and everyday-life. I mean, your break-up was pretty messy, for both of you. I’d have thought he’d do more about it, that’s all.”

I think I was pretty clear there was no way back for us, and he probably just accepted that.”

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diossabexxx-deactivated20140729  asked:

Why do you always trace photos? I'm so upset tbh. Why don't you ever show us original photos? I'm also an artist so I can't believe what you are doing. Your almost arts aren't original. There are just traced photos.

you are an artist and acts like this? now i can’t believe you,seriously.

  1. I learn by tracing, it’s how teachers teached me and it’s how it is. i tried to do original stuff only but i was the same for 5 years,no progress. then teachers told me. You hand will memorize the curves, your eye will memorize the light/shadow. I need to learn the realistic way how to draw things to develop my own stylized style. half my blog is traced photos, half my blog is original art. can you tell them apart? I’m learning. I’m 19 year old, i have big dreams, i’m learning.
  2. I could literally point at every other artist’s works that i’ve seen the reference photo of, but why would I? hell, after all,they drawed it themselves and it looked great! they learned by real reference
  3. Do you know manips? Just two or more photos putted together, edited to look somehow. yep,that’s it. is someone complaining about manips? manippers(can i say it like this?) are artists too. they have the work with finding pictures, with playing with the light, creating the illusion of something real. and we love it!
  4. The main thing- in the end, you have visuals of our most favourite couple being in situations we can’t see them in. and that’s it? We fill our fandom with visuals for people to get inspired, for people to use for their fics, to help people imagine it in real life. That’s the crime?
  5. I really wish people stopped looking for problems everywhere. does this bother you so much, does this attack you, does this change something in your real life? i don’t think so. this is literally me just doing nothing and sharing it because people want to. they don’t care how we do these things, they want to see these things. and we give it to them. everyone is happy and then there are people like you
  6. little break from reading for thinking about something nice or funny and smile a bit :) now the last thing:

i’m just a stranger for you who does things one way, other than you, but I do have dreams and i see my progression and i’m not going to give up on something just because someone comes into my inbox, calling themselves an artist and yelling at another artist? artists stick together, artists know how good it feels to create something, to see their final work. artists never goes to others and complain and insult them for something that makes them feel good.
when you draw it doesn’t mean you’re an artist. when you sing doesn’t mean you’re an singer. you have to understand it, you have to do it with passion, you have to do it for your happiness, nothing else.
so now you’re rather being jelaous (even if i don’t know why should you) or you’re being really not respectful to the fact that someone does it differently than you, or you called yourself and artist to have more weight in your word, but guess what, i don’t care who the hell you are, if you’re not nice, then bye

and by the way, it’s 3am here, i’m hungry and i have millions of mosquitos in my room, you being upset is not my problem :)

On a Cruise Ship

Imagine you’re a cleaning guy on a cruise ship. It’s your first day at work, an unbelievable experience. You’ve always been so passionate about cleaning. Who would’ve ever thought that you’d one day be working on the biggest, most bad-ass cruise ships in the world when you first picked up that mop to clean up some mess in your school.

‘Clean everything from here, all the way up to the front deck. And don’t forget the pool! That’s your daily routine, all clear?’ Of course everything is clear! Wow! All the way from here to the front deck? Isn’t that the area where all the famous celebrities hang out? Is that Franky at the ice cream bar? I bet I can get ice cream for free every day from now on! Give me my stuff, I’ll start cleaning right away!

Twisting and turning while you clean the ship. What an amazing experience. Week after week you get to say hi to Marylin Monroe, Frank Sinatra and Ray Charles chilling by the pool. How many people in this world would’ve killed to be THIS close to those people, and I mean, free ice cream everyday! Traveling all over the world with the most famous people by your side and still getting paid big time! Cleaners on cruise ships get paid the most! Isn’t that anyone’s big dream? You will never get tired of this job!

Yet, after 3 months of doing the same routine over and over again, you start to loose the fun you once had in doing your job. After all this time Frank Sinatra turned out to be just a normal human being, Ray Charles doesn’t even look you in the eyes anymore and Marilyn Monroe is a bitch. You’re absolutely done with ice cream, since you’ve tried every combination of every flavour possible. Now that you come to think of it, how’s the family doing? You haven’t spoken to them in months, and you actually start to miss them, which doesn’t really encourage you to do your job. Why do I have to do the same routine over and over again? I mean, I still enjoy cleaning, it’s my biggest passion. There’s just something… Damn, it’s just not really how it used to be.

What am I trying to say with this? I’ll just get straight to it. Everything, as soon as it becomes a routine, loses it’s fun. It’s something that I’ve kinda been dealing with over the past couple weeks. Producing film is the thing I absolutely love to do the most, but sometimes the weekly routine of uploading videos on the same day at the same time causes my fun to fade away. I just feel I’m not enjoying the production process as much as I used to. I feel guilty saying it like this because I know how many people would love to stand in my place, but working on a cruise ship also doesn’t seem so wrong in the first place does it? I just have these exciting things and ideas I would love to create but I just can’t get to it because of, well, the fact I have to edit the next Filmy Friday, fix some left over business or have a meeting.

Now comes the part where I ask you about your opinion. I don’t want to let you down, absolutely not, but just out of curiousity, how much would you bother seeing a slight change in the schedule, or a period of less videos so I can get everything back on track again? Create the stuff I want to create, not losing my passion because of a schedule, time pressure and deadlines.

This might be something I shouldn’t be asking you about, but decide for my own. Yet, please let me know your absolute honest opinion, I would very much appreciate it.