you're soaking in it

It’s raining in Hollywood and a soaking wet, off-brand Chewbacca just tried to get me to take a picture with him in front of Madam Tussaud’s, and yet amidst the chaos of bumbling tourists and soggy cartoon characters, Carrie Fisher’s star is wreathed in fresh flowers and positively covered in glitter, just the way she would have wanted it.

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It’s exciting that George Martin is still writing the books, you know. That we don’t know what’s gonna happen. That’s very exciting for the audience, for the people making it, for the actors. It does affect what you’re doing in that you can’t really play the endgame because you don’t really know what it is.

Little Battleborn Things #923

When your bullet sponge runs away from your healing, leaving you frantically running away from a very angry demonic tag team.

*another tragic submission from the terrified Battleborn baconator137. 

Timehop shattered me today. Usually it’s okay. Melancholy for the past, but still good. Today was not. Today hit me like a brick wall.

I’ve been talking to the most amazing guy for years now. We met on Omegle.
The year I graduated high school(2011!), a really big tumblr trend was to go on Omegle under the “tumblr” tag and try to find your friends/followers. It was hysterical. It was fun. I was on there so much it started leaking into my real life. My friend and I would have sleepovers and stay up until crazy hours, on Omegle just finding people to talk to. Obviously the cute ones would get more attention, and we’d have to skip a dick or 10(yes literal dicks), and on the rare occasion we’d get a guy’s number and text for 48 hours and then never again.
But one night, it was different. If I remember right, we were dicking around with stuffed animals. We’d hold them on screen and try to get people to interact with them without seeing what we looked like. Accents, whatever. And if they gave us the time of day we revealed our faces after a while. So we connect with this random babe. And he’s got the bluest eyes. And this swoopy brown hair. Squarish jawline. And he says he’s from England and we’re swooning because we’re American and foreign accents are delicious. He’s not talking though, just typing. We eventually show our faces. My friend gets bored and says we should skip him but I don’t want to. He’s so cute and the way he won’t speak is making him a mystery I’m dying to hear. I get his Skype so we can move on and promise to talk to him later. This guy is cute and all but we’ve only just met and I’m hosting a sleepover and my friend is bored. A bit later, I get a Skype message. I let the guy know we’re still on Omegle. What’s he still doing up? It’s like 6am there. He’s nuts. But he wants to Skype me. But I can’t. My friend is there. I can’t just take over the computer. Eventually my friend gets tired. So I close Omegle and Skype the England Boy. I’m begging him to say “love” in the accent I know he has. But he won’t do it. I’m 18 years old and teenage romance novels are my weakness and romcoms are everything and the way Gerard Butler calls his leading lady “love” is all I need in my life. My friend is falling asleep on the couch and I’m busy falling for the biggest fall of my life. We’re Skyping for four hours. He barely speaks. And then gloriously he says to me, “goodnight love,” and I’m dying from head to toe, it’s beautiful and this cute guy said it in his cute accent and even if he didn’t mean it, if he only said it because I begged and persuaded it out of him, it’s still got me in a puddle of emotions. It’s perfect. He’s great. I’ve got him on Skype. I can call him up whenever I want.
That was how it started. It was everything to me. I stayed up Skyping him when I should have been sleeping. I stayed on Skype with him for 6 hours 6 days a week. It was the summer before I went to college. He meant everything to me. He made me laugh. Die laughing. He was adorable and funny and charming and immature and sarcastic in all the right ways. He’s terrified of spiders. Sometimes, he sleep walks. He hates pineapple. He’s got a lesbian sister. More siblings. He’s never owned a car. He doesn’t have a license to drive. He’s getting a 7k inheritance when he turns 21. His dad’s an accountant. He had a brother who passed away. His girlfriend appears to be a massive uncaring bitch. He can do better. Dealing with my feelings and his girlfriend was a rough patch. She’d infuriate me so badly some nights. He’d Skype me from her house. It’s okay, she’s asleep. Why are you talking to me? You should be sleeping next to her. You can’t sleep? That happened more than once.
When he broke up with her I was so happy for him. So proud of him. He didn’t have to date me. Distance. Yuck. But now he could find someone to treat and be treated better. He never really did.
He’d watch American Football. Something I’m not sure he’d ever even thought about before me. He’d say he’d seen a Vikings game. Why would you watch that? We’re terrible. Football sucks.
He Skyped me through the single semester I went through college. He made a tumblr because I used it so much. We had matching links at one point. He Skyped me when I came home from college. I got a job, a good job but I still had time for him. I moved in with friends downtown. I got a new, good job. I was meeting people. I was partying. I was hooking up with people because I had all these feelings for a guy halfway across the world that were becoming hard to deal with outside our computer screen Skype world. It was easier to crash into guys who didn’t really care about me and wouldn’t notice I wasn’t exactly there for them emotionally 100%, even if I pretend or felt like it for fleeting moments in time. It had been three years since we first met. I started fading. I was working 40 hours a week. I hated my job. Loving him and not being with him was suddenly becoming painful. Not talking about it because it was painful and a useless conversation was even more painful. It wasn’t easy to accept anymore. It wasn’t easy to know that everyone around me wasn’t him. That no one could amount to him. That I could harbour so much feeling for a guy I’d never met. Would maybe never meet. These feelings were suffocating. I was drowning in something I couldn’t have. Couldn’t even touch. He was mad at me for becoming more and more unavailable. I tried to explain it. He was killing me. He couldn’t understand. He still wouldn’t.
We Snapchatted. Barely. I found a boy at home who wanted to hook up and also be a friend. Eventually it crashed into a million fucking pieces, but it helped me. At least, I thought it did. I tried so hard to make it work. If I couldn’t have England Boy, maybe this guy would date me. Maybe I’d finally be worthy of “girlfriend.” Well, I wasn’t. I lost the extended fling, and the guy halfway across the world was hurt that I was distant. Because he couldn’t understand. Because I couldn’t understand.

Now we never talk. I don’t remember the last time we had a video chat. Over 6 months ago? He’s back with his girlfriend who never cared enough. He’s got a life and he’s ignoring me.

It’s August 11th, 2015, and four years ago today, I met you. And our relationship killed me.

Guys there is something so beautiful about being alive like I just ran through the sprinklers with my friends and laughed like a maniac and felt more electrified than I have in months and I’m still soaked and my hair will be a nightmare tomorrow when I get up at the asscrack of dawn and what I’m trying to say is that you can’t keep waiting for the best days of your life; you just have to love the best moments more than anything and you’ll be okay

oh in case it wasn’t clear: every other time comics has changed the person who has a super hero name from a dude to a lady and made it clear everyone involved is Not Trans

that was also based in and helps perpetuate transmisogyny

ev

‘ry

sin

gle

time

i know it’s very much business as usual for comics and that’s a real big problem

sorry not sorry captain marvel she-hulk spider-woman fans