wishi was actually there

I was designing a simple website for a client who wanted to rent out their villa in the South of France. There were lots of gorgeous pictures of the scenery in the South of France, so I decided to pick some colors from the photographs - a blue, green and pink. The client liked the idea but said:

Client: I like the colors but they are a bit bright, can you tone them down a bit.

Me: Sure, so you would like them a bit paler?

Client: Yes.

I looked on the color wheel and chose a tint of each color - so they same color spectrum of each color, just a bit paler as requested.

Client: No, I don’t like that! It’s too wishy-washy.

Me: Ok, it’s actually a pastel now, it’s a paler version of each color as requested.

Client: No, I didn’t want you to change the colors, just make them lighter.

Me: Well, if you make a color lighter, it becomes a different color.

Client: Well, I asked for the same color, just a bit lighter. What is difficult to understand about that?

Me: Ok, so you want it to look EXACTLY like the original color, just… lighter.

Client: Yes! Exactly! Now you’ve got it.

That was the moment I realized this was not going to be an easy job.

Mindfulness is safe for people who disassociate

So there’s a post flying around about mindfulness being bad for people who disassociate.

And I just wanna say: NO. 

Not saying this person is wrong when it comes to them, personally. Their doctor may have told them this, or their doctor may feel that they should not practice mindfulness because SOME mindfulness practices CAN lead to disassociating. As someone who disassociates, I absolutely can say that most mindfulness practices are PERFECTLY SAFE.


This post floating around is dangerous because people who could USE DBT are going to see it and decide to avoid that instead, when some mindfulness exercises would actually be beneficial.

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I cant believe I went from hating Lust for Life to loving like the whole album? Jesus christ im wishy washy. But it’s actually pretty good. TBH nothing is as iconic as Video Games but the album has some good ones (In My Feelings, Heroine, God Bless America, Love, Coachella, Summer Bummer, Beautiful People Beautiful Problems are my faves).

ballastmcgee  asked:

How about the true OTP of Ballast x Xin

oh my gOD

  • Why I like them
    - they deserve each other
    - they have the same kind of drawling sarcasm
    - they do smug power couple moves to one-up markus on his dates
    *strut in arm-in-arm* ballast: oh markus ;) i didn’t see you there ;) guuuUUUuurl ;) *..babe did i do it right?*
    markus: *internal screaming*
  • Why I don’t
    xin doesn’t seem like much of a relationships guy tbh
  • Favorite episode (scene if movie)
  • Favorite season/movie
  • Favorite line
    their speech is so different, a conversation between them would be hilarious. it would also take literally forever because they both have that slow. delberate. pace. filled with conveluted sentences or hyperboles or ambiguous half-statements…
  • Favorite outfit
    these two would look like the most Extra assholes in the entire goddamn country; cowboy Chic and temple god. they think they look amazing together
  • OTP
  • Brotp
  • Head Canon
    they meet when ballast just.. shows up one day in the ban camp. no one knows how he found it, and xin sits him down to try and question him. but they’re both talented enough at deflection that it eventually just dissolves into talking a wine mom bitching session
    (the truth is that ballast got lost, but he won’t admit it under pain of death)
  • Unpopular opinion
    this pairing has actual potential
  • A wish
    i wish they actually had interacted in canon (they haven’t right?)
  • An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen
    don’t let markus know
  • 5 words to best describe them
    awful, Extra, stubborn, showy, long-winded
  • My nickname for them
    how about nicknames for each other
    xin would be absolutely awful
    ballast: hey sugar ;)
    xin: hello…ah..
    *looks around*
    xin: gun

send me a character

anonymous asked:

Can you do a rec for super smutty sterek fics? Whatever tropes/kinks are fine

Well, I already have a Stiles gangbang rec list, along with a Sterek omegaverse rec list (which is pretty sex heavy).

On tumblr, wtfzurtopic writes some really good smut, but be warned that some of their fics include underage. Here’s their sterek tag. They also write a lot of hobrien – which of course means that if you ever go to a con and meet Hoech or Dylan, you’ll never be able to look them in the eye. (Here’s their hobrien tag.)

I’m probably forgetting a bunch, but here goes (they’re kind of bottom!Stiles heavy):

All’s Fair in Orgasms and War by bleep0bleep | 63k | Explicit


The one in which (almost) everyone is a porn star, and Derek just wants to curl up with his fluffy blanket and watch the Hallmark channel, but work and falling in love gets in the way. 

Five Days of Dickings by drunktuesdays, mklutz, and the_ragnarok | 18k | Explicit | Note: Stiles has sex with a lot of other characters

Five Dickings in Five Days was the (hopefully interim) title he’d seen on the contract. More like five days of dickings. Whatever, Stiles was into it. The money is great; the fucking is also great. It’s a win-win way to pay for college

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll | 9k | Explicit

“You’ve got a hickey on the back of your neck!” A Neckz ‘n Throats story.

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'Grey's Anatomy': Jessica Capshaw Dissects Arizona's Romance With Eliza | EW

After her trip to the pokey, Arizona will return to a Grey Sloan in turmoil as new doctor, and potential love interest, Eliza Minnick faces a rough first day at the hospital.

Eliza (Marika Dominczyk) was brought in to essentially replace Richard (James Pickens Jr.) as the head of the intern program, which did not sit well with many of the doctors, who seemed poised to strike over her arrival. That makes things especially difficult for Arizona (Jessica Capshaw), who is in the really early stages of a flirtation with the new doc. Where will Arizona land in all of this? Capshaw weighs in:

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: What can you tease for Eliza and Arizona’s budding relationship?
JESSICA CAPSHAW: There’s something that I really, really love about a quasi or demi-forbidden relationship, and we have the makings of that. Arizona is in a tricky position, because here comes the first woman in a while that makes her feel a certain way, feel flirted with and excited and feel flirty back, but also sort of pisses her off. All that stuff is made of a great TV or movie relationship, where you see them bickering but in a way that’s flirty and sexy as opposed to aggressive or mean. She has that, but at the same time, she feels a bit fettered by the fact that Richard is her wingman; that’s her friend. I think she knows that Eliza hasn’t come in to get rid of Richard, but she’s obviously upsetting the apple cart by illuminating the ways that Richard might be coming up short as the interns’ teacher. It’s conflicting for her to feel the way she does about Eliza and be excited about it. It’s not like she loves her, so she’d give up everything for her; it’s just the promise of something and the beginning of something. It’s hard for her to figure out whether or not she should allow herself to have this minute of flirty fun or if she should just completely say, “No, I’m sorry. You’re here to displace my friend, and I can’t have anything to do with you.”

Where does Arizona fall when everyone’s trying to make Eliza’s first official day at the hospital a living hell?
In the beginning, she falls with the, “Get out of my way!” Eliza tries to get into her OR, and she’s like, “Not at all, not a chance, not even close, you’re not going to be a part of this.” In the beginning, she certainly tries — I don’t know how wholeheartedly she tries — to get her to back off. She tries to stay true and loyal to Richard and to make Eliza feel as unwelcome as possible.

With the hospital divided, are we looking at a potential strike?
I don’t think we’re looking at a strike — well, maybe a strike on certain friendships, but not a full-blown hospital strike. Once it’s revealed where people lie in all of it, there’s definitely some relationships that hang in the balance. It’s the question we all ask ourselves in our own personal lives: If you have to ask if someone is for you or against you, it’s usually not for you. You have to pick which side of the line to be on sometimes. It’s less gray here, pun intended, because you’re either for Eliza coming in and displacing Richard, or you’re for Richard staying and Eliza going. That’s the problem, and obviously, it complicates a lot of relationships.

How do you think this relationship will be different from her one from Callie (Sara Ramirez)? How do you think Arizona is different going into it?
I thought about that a lot. I think the thing that’s really interesting and different, and creates a different starting point for Eliza and Arizona, is that when Callie and Arizona met, Callie wasn’t even actually completely knowing that she was interested in being in a relationship like that. I don’t think she was fully formed yet. There were those early scenes where Callie goes to ask Arizona out again, and Arizona is like, “No, you know what, I’m so sorry, you’re new to all of this. You’re feeling like this is exciting, and yay, but I want to be with someone who’s really ready for this.” That would be what Eliza is. I think there’s no question about Eliza’s sexuality. Eliza is a fully formed, ready-to-go woman who has a career, a life, an understanding of who she is, so she decides she wants to go after Arizona, and it’s very clear; there’s no wishy-washiness. It’s very self-actualized. I think there’s something kind of different and exciting about that, because they’re starting from a point that there’s no deficit, there’s no wishy-washiness. “You, I like you.” There’s something kind of freeing about that and exciting in a way that is fresh and new for Arizona, or Arizona on the show.

We got a bit of info on Arizona’s daughter being on the other side of the country, but will we hear a little more about what’s going on with Callie and Sofia in upcoming episodes?
You know what, I have no idea. I could sneak into the writers’ bungalow and install a listening device, and maybe I’d know more. Where I think that I’ve landed — and I don’t know if this would be backed up, but it probably would by Shonda [Rhimes] and the writers — I know that I chose to stay in the place that feels the yummiest and the most comfortable, which is thinking and imagining that there is this whole life happening in New York that includes Callie, Penny, and Sofia, and that it is robust, lovely, and supportive. So everything that Arizona is doing doesn’t feel compromised or conflicting because it’s all just love, love, love, and support. They’re just separated by geography now, not by a choice to not be together.

#Pisces Daily Horoscope 7/19

Seeing both sides of an issue or argument has always been one of your strong points. You’re naturally compassionate and intuitive. But right now, you might be seeing each side too clearly. And instead of balancing you out, this perception is actually destabilizing you. This wishy-washy position isn’t very comfortable. In the end, you may decide you needed those filters after all – you know, the ones that help you keep the world somewhat manageable and understandable.

Non-Muslim Magical Character nicknamed Djinn, “African-like“ Regions and Coding

Anonymous asked:

Hi! So, I have a character in my fantasy story whose name is Djinn. It was a nickname given to him by his mother, because he has fire magic and as I understand it djinn are meant to be beings of fire. The characters are from the semi-middle eastern sort of part of the world, but I’m trying to create my own cultures rather than just picking an existing one and renaming it. They think of djinn in sort of the same way we’d think of creatures from Greek mythology. The characters aren’t Muslim, but would using Djinn as a name for a magic character still be disrespectful?

Also, while I’m here, there’s also a character named Indigo from the sort-of-Africa region. Do you think I should rename him to something based on an African name? There’s a character from the same region named L'anora, which I made up, since the cultures are sort of made up as well.

I’m sorry if any of this is a problem, please ignore it if it is! I know Muslim/magic questions are banned but I wasn’t sure if this counted since the characters in question aren’t Muslim or Muslim-based.

Think of creating a goddess of beauty and calling her Aphrodite and making her from a sort-of Greek world but denying any ties to Greek mythology. It’s erasure. If you’re going to have a creature from pre-Islamic Arabia and Islamic mythology you can’t ignore their history. 

The djinn doesn’t have to be Muslim, but my issue here isn’t with the magic, its more with using Middle Eastern culture but not giving us proper representation. Again with the coding and the hinting but we just can’t get solid representation.

-Mod Yasmin

Regarding the African Character.

Reminder: Africa is a large, culturally-diverse continent. Your sort-of-African (Rather, African-coded) region should not be treated like a homogenized country.

So saying “African name” doesn’t give me much.

I don’t see a problem with the name Indigo for an African character.  Not all Africans do or would have a necessarily “African” name, due to things like colonialism, assimilation, personal tradition and oh, preference. (for example, my father was born and raised in Nigeria most his life; his name origins are Greek.)

Still, pick a specific region you’re basing these characters from, please.

I’m with Yasmin. While I do not mind coding, do not encourage being wishy-washy with representation. If you’re gonna code, actually code, and be abundantly clear this is say, a fantasy world Nigeria. Do not half do it and definitely don’t give us a “Somewhere is kinda-Africa” thing.

Ways to Code Regions (African or otherwise):

  • Skin Tones 
  • Facial features
  • Hair texture and styles
  • Culture and customs
  • Religions
  • Languages
  • Politics
  • Landscapes/vegetation
  • Landmarks
  • Animals

We’re not interested in stereotypical, flat depictions either:

If any of the latter three links are surprising to you, or any writer, as in the media’s stereotypes are all that you’ve ingested and internalized of Africa, you need to do a lot more research on Africa as a whole in addition to its countries before you even begin writing about our people.

-Mod Colette

The thing about creating a continent analogue is you have to create a continent analogue. Not a biome analogue, or a country analogue, or a region analogue, but a continent analogue. If you have an Africa analogue, it had better be big, diverse, and multicultural to reflect the entirety of the continent.

While this isn’t Africa, you can take a look at Avatar: The Last Airbender for an idea of what’s involved for simply creating a continent analogue. The cultures within there are primarily East and Southeast Asian, with a dash of central Asian and the North American Arctic. While it’s not necessarily the entirety of Asia, it feels big and diverse enough you can believe it’s Asia, and that there are places that better reflect other countries in Asia not heavily explored in the show.

If you’re going for “African”, like Colette said, you have to make Africa. Are you looking for jungles? Savanna? Desert? Scrub? Swamp? You name it, Africa’s got it. So pick what region you want, why you want it, and make sure it makes sense with the general geography.

Africa was diverse enough that it created multiple human ancestors while also allowing branching from early ancestors to create our closest genetic cousins. You have to account for that in worldbuilding. It isn’t just one place, but many, and deserves to be treated as such.

-Mod Lesya

I’ve been asked to do monthly fic rec posts by some people and since I quite liked that idea, this is my Sterek Fic Rec List #1.
If you want to see more of my recommendations, visit my fic rec page or my bookmarks!

It’s Called A Heart Boner by RemainNameless 

In which everyone and everything ever in the history of the world is trying to ruin Derek’s life before he can finish his master’s, especially his evil twin sister, his weird ability to start relationships on accident, his best friend’s obsession with his sex life, people with dimples, his subsequent inability to end relationships, manipulative sorority queens, and oh yeah, that stupid drunk ass freshman he keeps running into.

Permanent Fixture by linksofmemories

Derek is Scott’s older brother. Stiles is Scott’s best friend. Derek is falling in love with Stiles. This is a bit of a problem.

Fingertips, Like Memories by secondstar

Stiles wakes up to an empty bed. It isn’t until he gets to school that he realizes something is wrong. Derek is missing, and no one seems remember him except for Stiles.

the thread is ripping (series) by thepsychicclam

Stiles is 27 now, with a master’s degree and a career and a house and a serious boyfriend and a life in San Francisco that doesn’t include Derek. But then Stiles unexpectedly shows back up in Beacon Hills, and Derek would recognize that scent anywhere.

Derek Hale: Werewolf Cop (series) by the_deep_magic

Stiles is yanked up to his feet so fast that his world spins and his shoulder aches and he’s a second from screaming police brutality! when he gets a good look at the cop’s face.

Holy shit. Stiles was just tackled to the ground by a fucking underwear model with a badge.

Stiles’s Story Time by trilliath

Where Stiles is a librarian who is in charge of the kids’ reading hour and such. And Derek is 6-year-old Scott’s adoptive dad. And Stiles has his own take on Stories and Scott loves wolves and Derek tries not to admit that he likes the way Stiles’s face (ass) looks in those glasses (jeans).

Broken Cookie, Shattered Glass by clawstoagunfight

After Stiles’ best friend moves out of the apartment the two of them have shared for the last five years and into his own in a different city with his fiancee, Stiles is in desperate need of a new roommate. After a dinner with the Hale family, Stiles finally has a new roommate. The only problem is that he seems to hate Stiles’ guts.

Worth The Wait To Give You My Heart by secondstar

All of Derek’s memories surrounding his birthday were of his family, of their deaths. After leaving Beacon Hills, he thought the past was behind him; until he and Stiles began exchanging SnapChats.

Pack Up; Don’t Stray by the_deep_magic

Werewolves are an enslaved underclass, collared and tagged by human masters. Detective Stilinksi’s on duty the night they bring in an untagged stray.

Tit for Tat by fauvistfly

Derek is a professor, and Stiles is his TA. They mostly work well together, but Derek still prefers pen and paper while Stiles embraces modern technology. When Stiles realizes this preference extends even to spank bank material, he decides it’s his job to show him the wonders of online porn. Derek rises to the challenge and counters with his favorite erotica. Who will win? (hint: everyone)

Part Of My Melody by hayesgeneration

Derek is a professional classical musician who has found himself lost without a muse, without goal and without even a hint of spark. He’s almost settled nearly contently (if not slightly unwillingly) on having to live his life as a recluse, when his sister finally grows tired of his antics, giving him a Christmas ultimatum.

but monsters are always hungry, darling by Rena

“I just…I just want someone to fuck me,” he blurts out, flailing his hands around. “I mean, like, really fuck me. Not any of this wishy-washy stuff, but someone with strength and stamina who’ll actually, honestly, fuck me, hold me down and fuck me so hard I can still feel it the next day.”

“So, essentially, you want a werewolf,” Lydia deduces.

“Where would I even find a werewolf willing to fuck a human?” Stiles demurs. Werewolves mostly keep to themselves. Stiles doesn’t blame them.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Lydia levels him with a hard look. “You find them where you find everyone you can purchase the fulfillment of your every sexual fantasy. Find a damn hooker.”

In Fashion by stilinskisparkles

“Yeah, for a tyrannical stylist and his helpless dupe, we’re doing just fine.”

if i built you in miniature by keskasi

Derek quietly loves Christmas and is not afraid to wear the sweaters to show it. He hosts a children’s TV show about science and history, builds model trains, and is painfully awkward. Stiles works in a Hallmark-type store that sells Christmas decorations and model train pieces, and might have an unhealthy appreciation for sweaters. Of course he was going to fall for Derek. Of course he was.

The Chemistry Between Us by coffeeinallcaps

Meeting Derek Hale wasn’t special, or frightening, or any of the other things everyone had made it out to be. It was, actually, pretty much the opposite. Stiles didn’t even realize the guy was Derek Hale until the moment had passed. Derek: the most infamous student at Beacon Hills University. Stiles: the freshman who falls for him anyway. Awkward encounters, concerned friends, and lots of not-so-casual sex ensue.

white noise (WIP) by raisesomehale

The doctor tells him, “Your… condition, might take a while longer to evaluate.”

Condition. Like this is something temporary, like this is something they can fix.

Also check out youshinebrighter21’s, captain-snark’s and heroderekhale’s tumblr fic tags because they are amazing & Saucefactory has the best plot ideas for AUs and stuff!

023. 5SOS Preferences: Trying


People always commented that you and Luke fit one another like a pair of skinny jeans because people who wore skinny jean knew not every pair worked on every set of legs. It was a lot like being Goldilocks in the home of three bears when shopping for the perfect pair of tight denim pants. You had to go through those that were too tight, too short, and even too elastic in order to find the right one.

You and Luke did fit well with one another and that was why it felt so off balance to be driving home with uncomfortable silence strong between you. The Foo Fighters were on the radio, but Luke wasn’t quietly singing along or drumming on the steering wheel as per usual. There were a few dozen thoughts running through your mind, but your gums weren’t flapping the way they usually did when you left a family dinner or any sort of social event. Luke liked how chatty you were since he could often be shy and needed a little coaxing and comfort in order to join a conversation. Times like right now, when you were as quiet as stone, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Did you see how many leftovers my mom sent us home with?” Finally, Luke spoke over Dave Grohl’s growl, looking at you through his sunglasses as the sun was setting over the coast. He managed to couch up a laugh, throwing his gaze in the mirror for a moment at the stack Ziploc containers he had belted in the backseat, in the spot where the baby seat he had bought two years ago used to sit, empty and collecting dust. “I think she thinks we don’t eat.” He carried on, hoping you would pick up quickly so he didn’t have to sit there feeling like an idiot with his piss poor attempts at fixing the atmosphere. “Or potatoes. Maybe she thinks we just really like potatoes….” He mumbled away, turning up the volume in defeat. He fixed his stare back on the white line ahead, wondering what you were thinking, worried his guess was right. After all, you two were connected and he had been thinking the same thing all throughout supper.

Luke had clocked the drive from his parent’s to your home at  eighteen minutes, twenty five if the traffic was heavy, but tonight, he felt like he had been driving for hours. He sighed once he had pulled into the driveway, his stomach pushing out for a moment from the strong heave. After shutting off the car, he took out the keys and threw them between his knees along with his hands.

“Whoa. Wait.” He reached over with one and loosely drew his fingers down your arm. You had unstrapped the seatbelt from over your chest, crinkling your loose fitted jumper, and were reaching down to gather your bicolour top handle bag.  “Say it, come on.” He didn’t want you to stomp into the house feeling angry still. Inside was supposed to be a getaway, a home away from the rest of the world, and Luke didn’t want you to carry your outside rage into it. You two had spent enough time sulking in the confines of your generous home about this. “It’s just me.” He looked around, checking the front yard and then the backseat, only seeing fresh cut grass and his mother’s leftovers. You two had already been facing this issue for together for a long while. You knew you could talk to him if nobody else about it. His hand wrapped around your wrist, soothingly running his thumb over the vein that ran through to your palm, his own way of letting you know that he was right there as you were staring at the front of your bag as it sat between your feet still.

“Three babies in three years?” After exhaling deeply, fighting with yourself to not be as upset as you were, you sighed loudly with disbelief evident in your voice. “Three babies in three years!? She is a machine.” Your sister-in-law, Jack’s wife, had announced that they were expecting their third child even though she had only just given birth to your niece, Isobel, ten months ago, and your nephew, Jace, a year before that. “In three years, we’ve had zero. Where is our God-damn celebration?” You said out of spite that you had just been invited to another one of her baby showers.

In three years of actively trying to start a family, you and Luke had had absolutely no success. He had gone to the doctor’s to have himself checked, but they assured him that he was fine. So, you went to have yourself examined, but they also gave you a clean bill of health and said that you were in perfect working condition. You followed your ovulation calendar as if it was the Bible, you two tangled one another up in confusing positions that people swore up and down helped them get pregnant, you drank teas and devoured spices that were supposed to promote fertility, and you had even tried in vitro, but nothing was taking. It felt like a cold slap in the face that your sister-in-law could just look at her husband and be knocked up. There had been one time when you were so sure that you were pregnant that you could practically taste morning sickness in your mouth for days, so you took a test after missing your period for a month. The two pink lines assured you it was negative, but due to wanting a baby like junkie wanted their next fix, you went to the doctor with Luke only for the physician and his assistant nurse to apologetically promise you that you were, in fact, still not with child. Sometimes you felt as if you were being punished for being a terror of a baby for your own parents years ago. When you and Luke began dating, the topic of children came up as casually as what your favorite colours are, everybody just expected you two to raise your very one family Von Trapp.  You felt like a disappointment as a wife, unable to turn him into a father. In a rush, you slid one hand over your face and pushed your healthy hair back as if it was also pissing you off.

From your side, Luke pushed his lips inward and forced his dimples up. He was giving you his most hopeless smile, “I’m frustrated, too.” He shared, squeezing your hand to be assuring. Of course, he was happy for his brother as well, both of them, and loved his niece and nephews, but he wanted to be more than the fun musical uncle. He had been longing for a brood all his own, but he didn’t talk in length about his wish as he didn’t want to upset you more than the truth of the matter already did. “All we can do is keep trying.” He reminded you as he often had to, reaching your clutched hand up and holding your taut knuckles to his lips, rolling them over his plump pink pout.

“It just feels really hopeless.” Throwing your head back, hair pushed to the seat, you looked right at him and admitted, negativity taking on the best of you and winning for a moment.

“We could try in vitro again.” Luke was more than willing. He always thought you would make such a terrific mother, the two large dogs currently waiting in the kitchen proof of that, and he took on all the blame as to why you weren’t. He wondered if, maybe, despite what the doctors told him, which his sperm count was low or if he just wasn’t doing something properly. Luke lifted up his free hand, still holding yours tightly in his other over your lap, and played with your hair. You hadn’t said so in a while, but he knew you once found that to be of comfort.

“Maybe.” More than hopeless, you just felt exhausted by the whole thing. You wanted to not think about babies for a while, a break from the disappointment, but it seemed to plague your mind without your consent every day.

“What do the people on that infertility forum say?” With sincere curiosity, he asked.

Sighing, you shrugged as if you didn’t have an answer since the one you did have wasn’t very helpful to either of you. You always wished that the doctor had given you a clearer diagnosis than simply ‘unexplained fertility problems’.

“They say it could be a weight thing, but I’m neither over or under.” You rattled off. “And they’ve said environment can be a cause, but we haven’t been on the road for about seven months so I doubt this all Australia’s fault.” In practically every country and every city you two went to, you tried, but nothing ever came up positive. “They all say artificial insemination is the best route to go.” They weren’t experts, just anonymous strangers who offered you empathy when you really needed it.

Luke nodded along to your words like they were a ballad at a concert, but he allowed the silence to come in and take both you in like a blanket pressed over flames. He could tell you still needed to cool down. He leaned in and kissed you the way he did when you were younger, when you two had just met and he would practically bounce on his knees in the elevator in anticipation to kiss you. His lips buzzed over yours, pulling yours in and he allowed a loud ‘smack’ noise to boom once he pulled away.

“We’re going to be okay. It’s going to happen when it’s supposed to.” Luke wasn’t usually so wishy-washy. He had accepted that he may never actually get to be a father, but he tried to look on the bright side for your sake. His mother had been the one to remind him, almost on loop, that everything happened for a reason and there was a reason you two hadn’t had a child yet, so he tried to remind himself that now in hope that he would one day believe it to be true.


A child of five who had just been dragged out of K-Mart after a stage 5 temper tantrum, Michael had literally stormed and stomped his way back onto the tour bus. Everything was his fault, but he was still blaming the world for what was happening. He was the reason the band hadn’t hit the road for Melbourne yet, he was the one who had instigated you two starting a family of your own, and now he was why you two couldn’t have a baby. He had insisted the band leave an hour later since you two had a doctor’s appointment that couldn’t be missed as it had been scheduled for a month. He had been the one who was carried away in the moment, sliding himself in and out of you from behind, licked in sweat, and whispered what he had been keeping to himself: “I want a baby” followed by a breathy, “Make me a father”, and now he was the one who had been labeled, you were absolutely fine, and he was sterile.

Michael had never imagined himself in this position before. He had heard it was Earth shattering for women to find out they couldn’t bear children, but he never even considered he would be in a similar spot. He hadn’t been expecting to feel so full of rage, veins pumping up his arms and through his neck, his eyes shot with furious venom. He was breathing in through his nose as he charged in a straight line for the back room. He wanted to sit down, but he kept pacing in front of the vacant black couch, his fists curled as he sucked in his cheeks.

“Hi.” You bustled in after him, acknowledging the other three guys on the bus with a swift nod while swallowing the information you were also trying to digest.

Sitting next to Mike in the doctor’s office, he was holding your hand over the arm of your uncomfortable chair. You both just assumed that he would give you the blow. You were the one with the utereus after all. Michael’s thumb had been stroking your fingers tenderly, but they stopped abruptly when Dr. Koehn announced that it was actually Michael who was the defective one. Suddenly, you were the one holding his hand, but Michael pulled away, instantly sulking internally.

“Hon, sit down.” Closing the door with your back, you advised, watching him move two steps forward just to turn around and stalk in the other direction. The cab ride to the bus depot had been more than uncomfortable. He refused to look at you, his hands between his legs, knees shaking as classic punk music blared in his ears from his headphones. Usually, you would be upset that he was listening to his music when it was just the two of you, but you were understanding in this circumstance.

“Don’t – don’t.” Sharply, Michael said through clenched teeth, his eyes also closed as he kept pacing. He held up his hand, heaving an exhale strong enough to adjust the sails of boats in the ocean. “I just want to be alone.” Clearer than the water in the Evian bottle you had left behind in the back of the cab, he made himself.

You wanted to help, you wanted to be comforting, but you knew that it was best to just give him what he wanted right now. Eventually, he would come around and talk about. Slowly, you turned around to go back out, check if your bags were loaded into the underside of the bus, but the door opened as you faced it and Ashton revealed himself, his trademark grin slapped on his face like a bumper sticker.

“Hey guys, you okay?” He was the self-appointed eldest brother of the foursome, so when he felt the strong breeze of choler Mikey brought in with him, he didn’t think twice about trying to defuse whatever bomb had been set in his friend’s life.

You parted your lips to tell Ashton now wasn’t a good time, your eyes already wide and pleading, but the drummer snuck in and shut the door behind him, not realizing his feet were right on top of a landmine.

“What’s going on?” Absentmindedly, Ashton pressed while sliding his hands into the pocket of his jeans for comfort.

“I think Mike just needs a minute.” You held up one finger, reaching forward to pantomime leaving the small back room, but Ashton gladly ignored you. He loved you like a little sister, but he always thought he could handle every situation despite the obvious facts that he could not.

“Talk to me, Mikey. I’ve never seen you this upset.”

Seething, Michael actually hissed through his teeth. He had stopped pacing a minute ago, but he had his plaid covered arms folded over his chest and was still harshly gnawing at his gums, bringing his cheeks inward thinly. His nostrils were still flaring and you were sure that if you reached out to touch him, you would burn your fingers.

“Calm down, man.” Ashton continued and, almost out of reflex, brought your shoulders to your ears and tightly shut your eyes. He had just uttered two very destructive words, tossing the hand grenade joyously into the air, and not even attempting to take cover.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!” Michael whipped around, his eyes squinting in order to deliver his deepest glare towards Ashton. If they could shoot lasers, there would have been a hole burning through the drummer’s temple right then and there. You could tell, from the corner of your eyes, that Ashton was stunned. In all his years of knowing and touring with Michael, he hadn’t ever had the kid directly shout at him. They had all argued and fought, but they kept it to a dull roar at most. In most cases, they just gave each other a break for a bit when they were really livid. “You don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“Then tell me.” Swallowing nervously, Ashton tried. He wanted to keep a level head though he knew he was in a little over his own.

“I can’t do the one fucking thing I’m supposed to be able to do!” Michael shouted, his eyes burning a shade of rose you had never seen fill his young eyes before. Tears were in their corners, you only noticed now, but his lips were warbling as he shot out one arm to point to you. You could tell he was fighting what he was feeling, but it was obvious that he was losing the battle. “I can’t fucking give my wife a baby. The one thing, the one thing that I, as a man, should be able to do and I can’t!” He was thinking of all his idiot friends in high school who had knocked up girls at parties by mistake and how he had actually been trying with you, reading parenting books, focusing on both your heartbeats and rhythms, and he couldn’t make it happen. It didn’t matter if he filled you from toe to brain with his fluid, you would never be able to be pregnant with his child. He would never have his own flesh and blood on the planet.

He felt like a complete failure as a man and as a husband. He wanted to make  his mark on the planet, he wanted to leave a legacy and that included a small little person made up of some of him and some of you, but he couldn’t. It was beyond his control. He had promised you a family in his proposal and every so often, he would whisper fantasies of taking trips up to Snapper Rock with you and your little ones or showing them the whole world, and now that blowing up in smoke. He felt like he should just leave you, allow you the chance for what you wanted, but he was too angry to try and think straight.

Michael broke down the way he would have if you and Ashton weren’t there, how he knew he needed to, and stepped back to drop onto the cushions of the couch. He let his arms hang down between his knees, head following suit as he closed his eyes. It wasn’t much use, tears fell freely, slipping down to the toes of his black shoes and burning down his cheeks like rubber tires on paved cement.

“Just give us a little bit.” You whispered extra softly to Ashton, patting his back, and moved over to your husband. Ashton looked absolutely heartbroken for his friend as he sluggishly left the room, closing it loudly behind him.

You curled your knees up onto the couch, tucking your bare feet behind you, and wrapped one arm around Michael in order to bring him closer to you, guiding his head against your chest and running your hand behind his head as he cried.


“I don’t…I don’t understand.” Ashton had been trying to wrap his head around what the agent, stuffed into her charcoal suit on the other side of the creaky metal desk, had just said. The turning wheels in his brain were almost visible, but he just couldn’t make it clear to himself. “We are perfect candidates.” He pronounced, adjusting himself to be sitting on the edge of the seat, holding the end of the chair’s arms as he eyed your folder on her desk and then nodded at her. He had made sure that the application was without flaw, having gone over every blank space and question multiple times before answering. He had had the house cleaned by professionals and then went around it himself when the agency sent someone for a home inspection. He had prepared himself tirelessly for all three interviews. Where could you two have possibly slipped up?

It couldn’t have been money. He was financially set due to a lucrative music and business career. You two were three months away from your fifth wedding anniversary so it couldn’t have been due to a lack of commitment. He had retired from his party hard lifestyle years ago, right around your first wedding anniversary, so there was no dirt to find and he knew your record was clean. It wasn’t as if you two were old either, you were still both considered youthful in your ages, you met the standard for age to start a family.

“We’re medically fine, our references are great,” He began to list out loud instead of inside his head. You squeezed his hand in an effort to silence him. This woman had control over whether or not you two could be adoptive parents, which you two had been talking about since before he slid the massive rock over your fourth finger, and you didn’t want Ashton’s impulses to blow it. “We didn’t lie about anything. How could we be rejected?”

“I’m sorry,” Insincerely, just out of habit, she responded with her eyes locked to her computer’s screen and her fingers already banging out an email to a different client. “This just happens sometimes.”

This just happens sometimes. She might as well have told the two of you that you were the world’s worst humans to ever roam the earth. You sucked in your stomach, catching your breath for a moment, while Ashton reached to lock his hand in yours. You could feel his top shaking, ready to hit the ceiling. He wanted to give a child a privileged life full of opportunities and love. Ashton always seemed to be so full of love to give and you knew, confidently, that any child that came into your family would be so adored by him.

“What? Are you just not a fan or something?” He snarled, his eyes thin as a whisper as he mentally imagined her being blown to pieces and covering her cramped office with her own miserable guts. You two had heard horror stories of agents just being judgmental and selective, simply overworked and tired. Ashton felt, right now, that you two were living in one of those tales. He blurted out his question again, rephrasing it, but the agent was still stunned. Her glasses reached the bottom of her nose as she stared at him, fingers paused over the home base of her keyboard. “Angelina gets a UNICEF soccer team, but not Australian punk rock drummer Ashton Irwin, keep those kiddies away him!” His mind was blank, he was just throwing out words out of the bitter disappointment that was fresh and boiling inside of him.

“Ashton – “ You tried to butt in, but he stood up with your hand in his, looking down to help you up from your seat. Even full of wrath, he kept his word of always being good to you, treating you like royalty.

“You’re going to regret it. Every time a child on your list dies of famine or is forced into slavery or disappears, I hope you think of me and my wife, and I hope you remember that you personally robbed that child of the chance of having a beautiful life. One day, we are going to adopt and we are going to be the best God damn parents in the world.” He was spewing it out, his fingers growing tighter and tighter around yours before he began to lead you from his office. You knew he meant every single word. He wanted to be a father more than he had ever wanted success for 5 Seconds of Summer. “Let’s go, love.” He grabbed the handle of the door and whipped it open. “This is on your conscience.” One finger pointed right at the woman, Ashton left her with one last remark.

The truth was, it was also now weighing on his heart and mind. He was inhaling fire and exhaling smoke as you two took the elevator to the parking lot, holding hands the entire ride. It wasn’t until he opened up the passenger side door of his car for you that he let go of his grip on you. He slammed his door shut and loudly pushed the start ignition. Ashton’s flushed hands grabbed the wheel, sliding down its leather slowly as he felt his head begin to ache, a stress migraine on its way.

“Why weren’t we good enough?” He bit his bottom lip back, rolling it towards his tongue, and asked you so softly that you didn’t realize what he said at first. His eyes were full of disappointment as he stared into the empty cup holder between you two. He brought his puppy-like gaze up to you though and took your hand tightly in his again. He instantly wished he hadn’t flipped out on the woman. He knew it probably only made things worse, but Ashton was tenacious and you were determined. You were confident that one day you two would have the child out there that was wishing for you two as much you two were wishing for them.


“Babe?” The door creaked first, Calum’s voice whispering cautiously into the bedroom you two shared. You had the covers pulled to your chin as he crept into the dim room, the only light coming through from the small space between curtains. “Hey…” He said quietly as he knelt over the bed, creeping closer and running one hand over your forehead and then down through your hair. “How are you feeling?” He checked, but by the way you just curled up tighter under the white comforter, Calum knew the answer. He laid down beside you in his jeans and Henley, laying an arm over you and finding your fist through feeling the covers, holding his over yours and keeping you tight. He was hurting as you were, but he was trying to be strong for your benefit. You couldn’t both be lying in bed miserable. Besides, you were the one in physical pain. You were the one who had to do the actual literal losing. “I have to go to the studio in a bit.” He spoke quietly, his face right behind your mess of tangled hair. “Are you going to be okay here? Do you want to come?” His mother had volunteered to come over and look after you, but he wasn’t going to give you that option until you had declined his others. “I tried to get out of it, but I have to go.” You had learned quickly when you met Calum that many things in his life were just beyond his control. However, you had wished this, right now, was something you both had full say over. “Come on, talk to me…” He hugged you tighter, just for a moment, pushing his chin onto your shoulder and snuggling his knees behind yours.  “You know you can talk to me.”

After a full minute of silence, you began to cry again, face wrinkled up and eyes stinging from being so emotional for almost a full twelve hours.

“I hate my body!” You whined out. Calum had heard plenty of girls say that before, but he knew this wasn’t a complaint about cellulite, wrinkles, or any one out of shape or underdeveloped body part. “Why didn’t it work?” You had been let down by your own machine and you wanted to punish yourself as much as you wanted to feel better.

So many women got to leave the fourth floor of the hospital with a wrapped up newborn against their chests, reaching out for them as they smiled lovingly down at them like a bundle of heaven and you had to leave in a wheel chair with lower abdominal pains, breast discomfort, and a sense of emptiness so strong that it made you wonder if you had ever actually been pregnant.

Four months gone. You had felt the growth of the little life you and Calum made while vacationing in Oahu with a group of friends. Your second trimester had just begun, your belly finally growing an outward curve, and at sixteen weeks, you were coming in to find out whether you two could expect a girl or a boy. You knew that secretly Calum wanted a son even though he went on and on about how happy he would be with another lady around the house.

When the heartbeat couldn’t be detected, you tried not to panic. Calum’s eyes were glued to the monitor, his smile still evident, as he held one of your hands between both of his with excitement. Neither of you were expecting the news that your baby wasn’t there, that your body had housed a funeral without your knowledge. You were out of the first semester, your risk should have dropped substantially, you two had finally told everyone in your life, even notified the public through an announcement over the microphone at his last concert in Somerset.

“I don’t know, baby.” Quietly, a peep, Calum sighed into your shoulder and peeled back the covers just enough to see your skin, kissing down on your overheating shoulder. “I wish I could make things better.” He admitted to you, hoping that you knew how much he meant it. He let his other hand go to your hair, running his fingers through your wild hair. He didn’t even realize, but he started to sing in a whisper into your ear, a tender lullaby meant to lull you into sleep. You may have been lying in bed for hours, but he knew you weren’t getting any rest. He rocked you against him, singing as gently as he could, as you two lied there feeling more hopeless than you had known possible. 

Freely, you sobbed, ugly and loud, releasing just how angry and heartbroken you were as he kept his song sweet and low and urged himself to bring you a little bit of peace. 

“It’s not fair.” You choked out. “It’s not fair…" 

"I know. I’m sad, too…” He interrupted himself to confess into your ear, his breath warm and clearly as broken as you felt.

(( ᵈᶤᵉˢ ᶰᵃᵗᵃˡᶤˢ ᶠᵉˡᶤˣ ˢᶤᵗ ))

- May your birthday be happy.

Happy birthday, asshole.” Touka spoke as she grinned widely before breaking into a laugh. “You know I don’t mean that- but really. Happy birthday, Ken.” Walking over with her ‘manager’s special’ cup of coffee, she placed a peck upon his head and placed the coffee beside him before walking back to the chemex she had brought in from the store as well as the best beans they had. Sure, she had broken into his house that he shared with an ex-CCG agent that could very possibly kill her in a second, not to mention the special class kids that had her at quinque point in a moment’s notice- but all was generally alright. The kids had recognized her and luckily didn’t mind her intruding. In fact- they had showed her right to his room. In exchange for some special coffee that their parents didn’t want them to have of course.

{{ @xhaisexkenxipede }}

Use of language in the marriage proposal and the reply

So, I didn’t know if I’d ever become articulate enough about this to put in my two cents of overanalysis, but apparently I’ve recovered sufficiently from the CS to write something for my fellow fangirls to toss around.  No promises of great eloquence.  I don’t think I’m quite that well recovered yet.

I’ve analyzed Mr. Carson’s language use in the proposal.  What Mrs. Hughes says is important as well, but he’s the one sticking his neck out.  His language is very firm and unmistakable.  He’s a bit nervous, yes, but the three lines I obsess over the most make it really clear.  Here goes nothing.

Hughes: …you don’t want to be stuck with me.

Carson: But that’s the point.

Hughes: What is?

Carson: I do want to be stuck with you.

He doesn’t say, “I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you” or “I would like being stuck with you."  He says ”I do want to be stuck with you.“  "Want” is more active and forceful than those other options.  And he emphasizes and gives “want” more strength, while also indicating that his feelings are the complete opposite of what she thinks (that he doesn’t want to be stuck with her), with the single word “do."  It’s not to say that if he had said "I wouldn’t mind” or “I would like” it would have been wrong somehow, but he’s taking a firmer stance than that.

Keep reading


Every Friday we’ll present you our favorite fics. Please submit your favorites for next week. We’ll be waiting!


but monsters are always hungry, darling // ✭✭✭✭✭
AU NC-17 Words: 7,070 (1/1)

“I just…I just want someone to fuck me,” he blurts out, flailing his hands around. “I mean, like, really fuck me. Not any of this wishy-washy stuff, but someone with strength and stamina who’ll actually, honestly, fuck me, hold me down and fuck me so hard I can still feel it the next day.”

“So, essentially, you want a werewolf,” Lydia deduces.

“Where would I even find a werewolf willing to fuck a human?” Stiles demurs. Werewolves mostly keep to themselves. Stiles doesn’t blame them.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Lydia levels him with a hard look. “You find them where you find everyone you can purchase the fulfillment of your every sexual fantasy. Find a damn hooker.”

In Fashion // ✭✭✭✭✭ - NEW

AU NC-17 Words: 10,570 (1/1)

“Yeah, for a tyrannical stylist and his helpless dupe, we’re doing just fine.”

Pretty Much Normal// ✭✭✭✭✭
PG-13 Words: 29,331 (1/1)

"I can’t believe you’ve only been back four days and already need my help,” Stiles says as he sweeps into the loft. “No, wait, scratch that. I totally believe it.”

(Or, five times Derek and Stiles shared a room because of a supernatural threat, and one time there was no threat at all.)

Riding the Lightning// ✭✭✭✭✭ 
AU NC-17 Words: 23,704 (1/1)

Stiles finds himself on the doorstep to his home in Beacon Hills, not remembering how he got here or why he’s barefoot. As it turns out, he was abducted a couple of weeks earlier from a college party and bears the same marks on his body as victims of a serial killer his dad just can’t seem to get a hold of. So there he is, with no memories of what happened, the last couple of weeks like a blank line in his mind and knowing all too well that he’s the best shot they have at catching this guy. As a key witness and in acute, assumed danger, he finds himself under surveillance 24/7 and more often than not, his dad’s best Deputy: Derek Hale, is sitting at his kitchen table.

the broken radio is playing suicide // ✭✭✭✭✭
AU NC-17 Words: 73,415 (4/4)

Stiles only wishes they could actually be safe. They haven’t been for nine months now.

Sterek Fic Recs #25

Friends Don’t Let Friends Drunk Dial - 1,849 - Teen - Fluff 

No Hale fire

But no one said anything about sisters.

Wherein Derek drunk dials Stiles, Stiles didn’t know ANYONE was that interested in his moles and Laura can’t stop laughing.

But Monsters Are Always Hungry, Darling - 7,070 - Explicit - Porn with Plot 

Hooker!Derek, AU: Werewolves Known

“I just…I just want someone to fuck me,” he blurts out, flailing his hands around. “I mean, like, really fuck me. Not any of this wishy-washy stuff, but someone with strength and stamina who’ll actually, honestly, fuck me, hold me down and fuck me so hard I can still feel it the next day.”

“So, essentially, you want a werewolf,” Lydia deduces.

“Where would I even find a werewolf willing to fuck a human?” Stiles demurs. Werewolves mostly keep to themselves. Stiles doesn’t blame them.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Lydia levels him with a hard look. “You find them where you find everyone you can purchase the fulfillment of your every sexual fantasy. Find a damn hooker.”

Last Year’s Predictions Didn’t Come Out Quite As Expected - 8,526 - Mature - Feels 

Established relationship, Pack feels 

A year ago if someone had told Stiles he’d be going to prom with Erica Reyes and that Derek Hale would be lounging on his bed watching him dither over outfits, gaze ranging from amusement to lust filled every other minute Stiles would have punched them in the face. Or maybe tossed holy water on them.

Break the Ice - 11,847 - Mature - Feels 

Stiles gets hit by a spell that makes him extra super duper cold. He needs constant heat to survive until someone finds a cure.

Calm, Assertive - 4,414 - Teen - Fluff 

Stiles tries to stealth-obedience train the werewolves. It goes about as well as can be expected.

I Behold You - 6,006 - Explicit - Angst 

Pining!Derek and Pining!Stiles

Prompt: After being rejected for the eleventy-seventh time, Stiles, feeling utterly hopeless, asks Derek for the bite. He figures if it worked for Scott and Erica it could work for him. Derek shows him that he’s perfect as is and that everyone else is just blind.

Our Lives Are Changing Lanes - 47,537 - Explicit - Angst 

Deputy!Stiles, Dad!Derek, AU: Werewolves Known 

There’s a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn’t really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line.Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude’s got kids hanging all over him; one’s on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There’s a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he’s got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles’ mouth drops open.

"How many of those kids did you kidnap?” he asks before he can wrangle his brain into submission.

The man gives him a look that says what the fuck is wrong with you and snaps, “You think I’d subject myself to this on purpose?”

“Oooh,” says one of the kids hanging off his arm. “I’m telling Mom.”

A Slight Distraction 5,544 - Teen - Fluff 

Pining!Derek and Pining!Stiles, AU: No Hale Fire

Derek’s parents pick up a hitchhiker. Laura is completely horrible. Everything turns out better than expected.

Everything’s Made to Be Broken - 7,228 - Mature - Angst 


Everybody gets a name, inscribed in a color over the left side of their chest. It seems like a good system, guaranteeing that there will be someone who loves you, who you will get to love in return for years to come. The only problem is that that’s not actually how it always works out.

Hello, Heartbreaker - 18,472 - Explicit - Angst 

A/B/O Dynamics, Omega!Stiles, Pining!Stiels 

It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.

Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone’s a werewolf, and everyone’s alive.)

Check out my full Reclist here :) 

anonymous asked:

"Conservative" Paul Ryan says he won't defund planned parenthood. Tell me again how he isn't a wishy-washy republican that will cave into whatever democrats want

Did you really just say that? Because what? 

It’s convenient that you ask this question without any context whatsoever, luckily I like to do this thing called research.

Paul Ryan did not say that he wouldn’t defund planned parenthood. In fact he was quite firm in his comments that he didn’t believe Planned Parenthood should be getting tax payer funding at all. 

What he DID say was this: 

“I don’t think Planned Parenthood should get a red cent from the taxpayer. I’ve always believed that, even before these disgusting videos came out,” Ryan said. “But I believe we need to do our oversight. We’re just beginning to start a committee to investigate Planned Parenthood. That’s important. So the special committee on Planned Parenthood, I think, should be in the driver’s seat overseeing this process.”

Bash asked, “Will you defund Planned Parenthood?”

“This is what I mean when I say being an effective opposition party. I think being an effective opposition party means being honest with people upfront about what it is we can and cannot achieve,” he said.

“But we also have to push issues where we can push issues, we have to speak truth to power,” he added. “We have a president that isn’t willing to listen, that isn’t going to sign lots of our bills into law, we have a Senate that has a very difficult process when it comes to actually getting bills voted on, so knowing that we have those constraints, we have to operate within those constraints.”

Yeah, totally sounds like a “wishy-washy republican that will cave into whatever democrats want”…

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Actually it sounds like Paul Ryan being the pragmatic, honest man that he has always been. Saying “Hey I want it defunded as much as you do, but I’m going to be honest and not promise what can’t be done. We have a President that’s never going to sign that bill, we don’t have the votes to overturn his veto, so we’ll do what we can by having a committee investigate them and see what we can realistic actually accomplish.”