#interesting too that she apparently has enough photos of Michael on her phone for an album | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roonil-wazlib-at-221b · 5 years

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Don’t You Believe Me?

Request: Could you write a klaus imagine where it’s a couple years post-canon. the reader has been pining for him for ages but swallows it cus they don’t believe he returns their feelings. when he tells them that he loves them they’re just like “lmao sure” cus all of their friends and partners have left them and no one has ever loved them enough to stay so they don’t believe him. They aren’t like sad about it either, just resigned and making light of it to deal with how much it hurts to not be wanted.

Pairing: Klaus x Reader (Oneshot)

“He’s probably lying, though,” you mutter to yourself, chewing on your thumbnail as you pace around your small room, bare feet sinking into Emily’s plush carpet with every step. Your phone is in your hand, screen glowing as it displays the nine-word text that’s causing you so much anxiety. When the screen dims, you tap it again. You just need to look at the text in order to get a feel for it.

“What does he have to gain from lying to you?” your roommate, Emily, asks from where she’s laying on her stomach on her bed. Her hair is curled perfectly and her clothes are fashionable and look cute. You don’t know how she does it. You always look terrible no matter how hard you try and your hair can’t hold a curl to save your life. It’s especially impressive considering how just yesterday she’d been bawling her eyes out.

“He could humiliate me!” you exclaim, your voice loud. Someone in the hall down yells to shut up, which in turn makes other people yell at them, until everyone’s yelling and then it lapses into stony, brooding silence. You hiss, “He could be saying it to stand me up or something!”

“Y/N, we’re not in middle school anymore,” Emily responds. “Trust me, no one’s going to be putting in this much effort in order to stand you up.”

“I don’t know,” you say, your phone screen dimming once more. You tap the screen and accidentally on the new message, which means now Charles will be able to see that you’ve opened up the text. “Shit!” You drop your phone like a hot potato. The offending text glares up at you: You know, you’re actually rly cute. Wanna meet up?

“Haven’t you guys been talking for, like, weeks?” Emily asks, blowing a large bubble and sending her friend a SnapChat. “Yeah, trust me, guys like that lose interest after three days on average.” She should know; she did an actual study on the habits of boys and girls when talking to people on instant messaging, and if the male isn’t interested he apparently gives up after three days. You guess she hadn’t studied how many guys cheat on their girlfriends or she wouldn’t have started dating her boyfriend, but she hardly looks worse for the wear.

“What about the outliers?” you ask miserably. Charles is active on Instagram right now, which means he’s probably waiting for your response. He’s seen that you’ve seen it. He might be getting annoyed that you’re taking too long. He might be laughing with his friends about how they’re guessing you’re freaking out.

“The most extreme outlier was a week, Y/N,” Emily says not-so-patiently. She’s normally pretty good at handling you when you’re like this, but recently she found out her boyfriend’s been cheating on her, and she had to pull an allnighter last night to study for her Calculus quiz. Now she’s plotting her revenge on the cheating Michael. “Trust me. Nobody even finds that all that entertaining, anyway. You’re not going to get stood up.”

Your phone screen hasn’t even turned off before you decide, “No, I’m canceling it. Nope. Nope. I’m blocking him.”

“Y/N!” Emily jerks her head up to look at you, brown eyes widening with horror, but you’ve already done it. Her voice is surprisingly shrill when she exclaims againn, “Y/N!”

“Shut up!” somebody yells again, followed by multiple people shushing them.

“Oh, jeez,” you say, your hands shaking as you shove your phone in your pocket. “Nope, nope, nope. Did not like that.”

“You’re pathetic,” Emily sighs, shaking her head. “He was cute. He seemed sweet. You’re just being crazy.”

“I’m sorry, are you standing up for boys in general now?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips. “Last time I checked, your boyfriend’s a douche.”

“First of all, no, I wasn’t talking about all boys, just Charles. He seemed nice. Second of all,” Emily glares at you, “low blow, dude.”

“Sorry,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “I’m just… not good at this.”

“You just need to get over him,” Emily says, standing up. She puts a perfectly manicured hand on your arm and crinkles her brow at you. “Trust me. Pining over Klaus for eternity isn’t going to make you feel any better. Rebound dudes are the absolute best to date, because everything they do feels so crazy amazing!” She’s already got her rebound dude from Michael picked out.

“I know,” you insist, folding your arms. “I’m getting over him. It’s just… I had a bad feeling about Charles,” you invent wildly.

Emily crosses her arms and raises one skeptical eyebrow. “Mmm-hmm, sure.”

“What about you?” you ask, sitting down heavily on your bed and wiping your phone screen on your jean pants. “What are you thinking for Michael?”

“Honestly, I was thinking about cutting three inches off my hair and posting a selfie with the caption ‘Not gonna miss those three inches, Mike’.” Emily flips her hair over her shoulder and sends another photo to a friend. “What do you think?”

You laugh. “That sounds really funny. I’ll be the first to like it.”

“Honestly, now I think about it, why’d I stay with a guy that barely hits four inches?” she muses, tapping her chin with her pointer finger.

“I believe I asked you that when you started dating him,” you mutter. “And you responded that he was sweet.”

“Character is out,” Emily decides. “The length of the dick is all that matters now, as long as he’s not a total asshole and, like, a wifebeater.”

“As you do,” you nod.

It was the whole ‘your boyfriend’s a douche’ comment, you’re sure of it.

Emily has moved out of the room you shared together.

It’s not like you weren’t expecting it, either; since when has anyone ever wanted anything to do with you? Your own parents abandoned you and when you tried to track them down, they had another little girl and were not interested in talking to you. The rare times you’ve gotten a boyfriend he’d dumped you quickly, unable to handle your fears of abandonment.

Even the goddamn cat you adopted from the shelter ran away.

So no. You’re the opposite of a magnet. Nobody ever wants to be with you. They don’t even want to be in the same room as you.

Your phone buzzes. It’s Klaus Hargreeves, your oldest friend, and you’re trying to calculate how long it’ll be until he leaves you too. Everyone else has. It’s only a matter of time.

Klaus: Hey, Y/N, wanna come over? I’ve got a surprise for you!

Honestly, you’re surprised he’s texted you. He hasn’t in the last three days, which frankly isn’t very unusual for him, but your anxieties are in overdrive and have been since coming home and seeing the ‘Goodbye’ note on the door.

‘Y/N, I’m going to be living with some other friends for the rest of the semester.’

Translation: I’m finally ditching you for my better friends.

‘No hard feelings, right?’

Translation: I’m trying to be as polite as possible, don’t get mad at me for ditching you, you loser.

‘I’ll still see you around!’

Translation: But only in passing; don’t try to talk to me in public.

‘—Emily’

Translation: You were super fucking annoying. Thank God I’m out.

Within seconds, you text Klaus back, saying, What time? And what sort of surprise?

You good to come over like rn?

You don’t have any other classes for the rest of the day, and though you have an essay to write, you can do it when you come home later or tomorrow.

Yeah, sure, I’m on my way, you text back and slip on a pair of shoes before hurrying out the door. On the bright side, you won’t be able to get into any loud conversations and get yelled at anymore. You’re pretty sure the rest of the hall hates you and Emily for occasionally shrieking the most.

Come to my bedroom when you get here ;), Klaus sends you, and you have to stifle a grin. Maybe his teasing is what made you fall for him initially, and the way he’s so carefree. It hurts a little bit, though, whenever he makes a joke about being with you. You know you’re not even an option, but still.

Like Emily had said. You need to get over Klaus. Maybe you should have told him you had to write the essay, but…

It’s too late now for that. Plus, Klaus may get annoyed if you cancel plans with him and not want to hang out with you later on.

The Umbrella Academy mansion is quiet when you push open the doors. Grace must be cleaning elsewhere, and Pogo must be doing… whatever Pogo does when he’s not taking care of the kids. You barely even notice your extravagant surroundings anymore; far too used to them after visiting Klaus whenever you’re worried he’s OD’d on drugs or whenever he’s a little less high and wants to hang out.

Nothing’s changed when you see Klaus’s room. Well, things have definitely changed; there are balloons around the doorway like he’s celebrating something, but that’s just Klaus fashion. For all you know, he could be celebrating something—maybe this is his anniversary of getting addicted to drugs or something like that. Something like that would kill you a little bit to see happen, as it would kill all his siblings, but Klaus is just like that.

And you really do love him.

You push open the door cautiously, half-expecting him to throw something at you as a prank, but all that greets you is Klaus standing in the middle of his room, exclaiming happily upon seeing you.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You can’t respond. You have to take it all in for a second.

For one thing, his curtains aren’t drawn for once to keep the sun from hurting his hangover headache. For another thing, he’s shaved and cut his hair a little bit. The last thing that really stands out to you is that he’s wearing color. In all your life, you’ve never seen Klaus wear any color apart from that pink feather boa, but he’s wearing a tie-dye tank top and loose green cargo pants.

You laugh a little hesitantly, stepping into the room and looking around. He’s certainly seemed to embrace the color; confetti’s everywhere. “What’s going on, Klaus?”

“I’m sober,” he beams, holding up his arms. “Ta-da!”

You’re speechless.

“I know it’s taken me a long time,” he continues, “and I’m really glad you’ve helped me through all the years. But I’m sober and I’m planning on staying sober for the rest of my life. Ben’s helping me realize that I can’t just drink away my problems, you know?”

“Are you serious?” you manage to squeak out.

Klaus nods.

You squeal and launch yourself across the room, latching onto Klaus like a koala. “Klaus, I cannot believe it! Why didn’t you tell me you were getting sober?”

“I didn’t wanna let you down if I couldn’t,” he mutters, squeezing you so tightly you can’t breathe for a second. “And I was planning something.”

“What?” You pull away from him, already regretting the hug because it just made you love being in his arms more. Spending time with somebody probably isn’t the best way to get over them.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, but I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to until I was sober.” Klaus sits down on his bed, pulling you down with him, and looks in your eyes seriously. It’s unnerving. You’ve never really seen Klaus serious. “Y/N…” He swallows. “Please don’t say anything until I’m done, okay? I just need to get something off my chest.”

You nod. Oh God, is he going to tell me he’s murdered someone? Can you honestly keep a secret like that for him? You nod, squeezing his hands tightly.

“Y/N, I’ve loved you for a long time,” he says, blushing a bit but refusing to look away from you. “I wanted to get sober for you. I want to have a future with you. You’re my best friend and you make me laugh. You’re supportive and kind. I know that people have left you before, but I promise I won’t. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but if you do…” He squeezes your hands for a second. “I’d love to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You want to vomit.

He’s really making fun of you in this way? When he knows how sensitive you are about being abandoned? When he’s probably the only person who knows about your parents and relationship struggles throughout your life?

You swallow around a lump in your throat and croak out a laugh. “Ha, good one, Klaus.” You stand up, avoiding his eyes. “I’m happy you’re sober, though.” You start to turn away, saying, “I have an essay to—”

Klaus grabs your hand gently and spins you around. “Y/N, I’m not making fun of you. I really do love you.”

“Yep, mmhmm, sure,” you say, nodding too quickly, clenching your jaw too tightly. “I know. I’m sorry; I’m not really in the mood for jokes right now; I’m stressed out about this essay that’s due—”

“Y/N, don’t you believe me?” Klaus asks, staring at you. He’d honestly not expected it to go like this—he’s sober; isn’t life supposed to start going right?

You wrench your arm out of his grip. “Sorry, Klaus, I really have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“No, you won’t,” Klaus mutters as you escape the room. He’d imagined that going in a million different ways except that one. “Shit!”

“Go chase after her,” Ben instructs. “We both knew she wouldn’t believe you. At first.”

Umbrella Academy Taglist:

@fentanvl @deathswretch @lightningidiot @five-hg @iamsnek666@ameliatrh @ihatecheesyusernames @dora-the-grownup @emilyt0314 @idklol707

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

Guys, take a look at the prompt list on my page—I’d love to take requests for them; it’ll be fun writing practice!

#tua #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #klaus x reader #reader x klaus #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus #number four #reader insert #reader x klaus hargreeves

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years

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Off the Beaten Path (1/1)

Summary: Michael inherited the old house from the crazy side of his family.

“Harsh.”

He snorts and looks to the side where he can just makes out the hazy outline of a human figure. It wavers, shifting in and out of focus and the spot it occupies looks like someone went into a photo editing program and went to town on the blur filter. Felt like it needed more pizzazz and tossed in some film grain for the hell of it.

“Fuck off,” he says, turning back to the idiot in the backward baseball cap who doesn’t know the half of it.

Notes: I started this before they announced Achievement Haunters, so, you know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

AO3

Michael inherited the old house from the crazy side of his family.

“Harsh.”

“Fuck off,” he says, turning back to the idiot in the backward baseball cap who doesn’t know the half of it.

It’s a nice house though. Turn of the century two-story building built on several acres of land butting up against a sprawling forest.

Quiet, peaceful, and fucking haunted.

These lonely spirits wandering the mortal plane because they can’t seem to find their way to the next world or some bullshit.

Fucking annoying about it, too.

The younger ones walking the halls at night, making unearthly noises and knocking shit over like a bunch of cats.

The older ones are content to drift along in silence unless there’s something they want.

In that case, Michael can expect a ghostly face peeking through the shower curtains to ask him if he could make them toast because they miss the smell. A freezing presence at the side of his bed at night wondering if it would be too much trouble for him to turn the radio on to a talk show, and on and on.

They’re the harmless kind for the most part. Just lonely and tired of being forgotten, like to have someone acknowledge their existence, and unfortunately for them, that someone happens to be Michael.

They tend to be indistinct blurs at the edge of his vision. Some look like ghostly – fucking ha - versions of normal people.

Most of them prefer to manifest the way they looked in life. Whole and unmarred by the manner of their death, and others just don’t care enough to try. Shamble along with their injuries on display, no doubt as to the method of their death. Something bout the land here that draws them in, offers them peace they can’t find anywhere else until they move on or fade away.

“Well, I mean,” the guy - Ryan? - apparently isn’t going to let this go. “That’s a harsh thing to say, isn’t it?”

The house was converted into a bed and breakfast years ago. This curious thing a few miles out from the nearby town, and it sees a steady flow of guests around the year. Tourists and people passing through who don’t quite know where they’re going as long as it’s as far away from where they started as they can get.

And, of course, fucking ghost hunters like Ryan and his buddies.

Team of idiots with fancy little cameras and gadgets and completely unaware of the ghosts around them.

Babbling nonsense as they check for readings, hold out their devices meant to help them communicate with ghosts by scanning through radio stations or some bullshit.

Michael’s seen it all before, people who think of ghost hunting as a hobby. Something they do when they have vacation time saved up and nowhere else to go. The ones who believe in things like ghosts and the supernatural, want to make a living of of it.

Have themselves a following on the internet because they’ve managed to hit that sweet spot between unnecessarily serious and genuinely entertaining. Present their research and findings in a way that isn’t mildly condescending or mocking, and it’s strangely refreshing.

“Look, buddy,” Michael says, wondering what Ryan would do if he knew little Addison over there is pulling faces at him. “I love my family, okay? But there are some goddamned loonies in the family tree. I’m sure you’ll figure it out for yourself when you look into things because it’s not a secret.”

Several members of his family have been committed in the past. Ones from the side of the family that passed on their ability to see spirits on to Michael. Had him thinking there was something seriously wrong with him for the longest time before his dad sent him to stay with his grandmother for the summer when he was a kid.

It made Michael’s life growing up interesting, to be sure. His grandmother watching him to see if his imaginary friends when he was a kid might be more than that.

Ready to swoop in the moment he showed signs of noticing the creepy cat that phased through walls at her house.

Pale gray tabby with a sweet meow and eyes that glowed even when there wasn’t a light on it. (And if you looked a little closer you could see its skeleton just beneath the pattern of its fur.)

Ryan frowns, taking notes in the notepad he’s carrying. Not a phone or a tablet, but an honest to God notepad.

“It, uh,” he says, sheepish note to his voice when he notices the look Michael’s giving him. “The ghosts mess with the electronics.”

That’s a good point, Michael supposes.

It took some time before he was able to strike a truce with the ghosts that inhabit the house and its grounds. Bargained with them to leave his gaming setup and other electronics alone if he kept them in one room. Gave them the rest of the place to roam to their heart’s content.

There were still incidents here and there, but he wasn’t making the drive out to the nearby town to replace things on a monthly basis anymore. Giving the store employee and helpless shrug like he didn’t know why they all happened to mysteriously break on him the same way each time.

“Alright,” Michael says, and looks over to where one of Ryan’s friends is fussing with a camera.

Ryan clears his throat and scurries away, and Michael has no idea what to make of it, so he gives Addison a look when she eyes the camera thoughtfully.

“Don’t fucking do it,” he warns, taking care to pitch his voice too low to be overheard by the ghost hunters. “They’ll be gone by the end of the week anyway.”

Addison pouts at him. All big pale eyes and downturned mouth and poor little thing, but she’s been haunting this place for decades. A downright terror when ghost hunters show up, running amok with the others who get a kick out of fucking with the poor bastards.

“Seriously,” Michael says, and looks over to where Ryan and his friend are checking the camera over and talking quietly. “Let them have their fun.”

Addison sighs, and when Michael looks back at her, she’s gone.

========

Ryan’s friends are assholes, but thankfully they’re Michael’s kind of assholes.

Idiots who should really know better than to go messing around with things they don’t understand, but what the fuck does Michael know, right?

Gavin and Jeremy tend to stick together when they can. Gavin handling the majority of the camerawork with Jeremy not so subtly flexing his muscles at him as he carts around camera gear and other equipment like a pack mule.

He gets this little smile on his face as Gavin tells Jeremy what he’s doing and why when he sets the cameras up. All intent and this, hanging off his every word.

And Gavin. Idiot keeps darting little looks at Jeremy, and it’s kind of hilarious watching the two of them dance around each other.

Geoff and Jack have set up in a room off the dining room. Turned it into small command center with cables running everywhere as they plan out their week here. Where the ghost hotspots are, establishing shots and other shit Michael doesn’t even bother trying to understand while Ryan troubleshoots everything.

Runs all over the damn place whenever someone hits a snag, or their gear goes on the fritz. He looks a little harried when their paths cross, but the annoyed grumbling doesn’t seem to go anywhere, and the others take it in stride.

Lindsay, though.

Goddamn, Michael doesn’t even know where to start with her.

Terrifying, would be good, because she keeps finding reasons to send Gavin and Jeremy off somewhere together. Off to town for that scenic little drive, just the two of them, or into the woods to film scenes for the dramatizations they do.

This little glint in her eye that has Michael staying the hell away from her because she keeps giving him these thoughtful little looks, and he wants exactly none of that.

Not when he keeps bumping into Ryan, and Michael’s dumb heart does this little flip whenever he laughs at Michael’s shitty jokes.

When he so much as breathes, really, but that could be the history of heart trouble in Michael’s family. (In which case he’d vastly prefer that to facing up to the fact he has a goddamned crush on the asshole.)

His dumb heart aside, he likes them because they keep to the few rules Michael set out for them. The ones meant to keep them safe while they’re out here.

It’s easy to get lost in the woods around here, and he doesn't trust them to be able to find their way back.

The caves at the edge of the forest aren’t safe, so of course local kids get lost in them all the time. Lose their bearings and get turned around, and again, Michael doesn’t trust these idiots out there. Tells them if they want to explore the damn things to head into town and hire a guide

A few rickety bridges over the winding river that cuts through the mountains and weaves through the forest that the county’s promises to get around to fixing one of these days.

It’s surprisingly refreshing not to have to call into town to get a crew out here to rescue them from themselves,

Michael appreciates the fact that he hasn’t needed to call emergency services to rescue them from themselves because the paperwork involved is a goddamned nightmare.

========

Caroline likes to sit on the porch swing in the mornings to watch the sunrise.

She looks like she’s in her twenties, hair twisted into a messy bun and wears a pioneer dress. There’s something sad about her, the way she watches the other ghosts, like she’s looking for someone. Hoping they’ll show up here one day.

Michael joins her sometimes, sits on the other end of the swing and gives it a little push to get it started. When Caroline’s having a good day, she keeps it moving.

Today seems to be one of those days, this slight curve to her mouth when he slides a look at her.

Michael’s got a Red Bull because he didn’t sleep well the night before and it made more sense to his sleep-deprived brain than coffee.

Some kind of brain-addled logic in there, but when the ghosts are excited at the chance to fuck with a new batch of ghost hunters it gets noisy.

Or.

Not noisy, just.

Chaotic?

The careless ones slipping into his dreams. Emotions bleeding over and Michael’s mind unable to filter their thoughts and emotions from his. Everything getting jumbled together until he’d woken up feeling this heartrending despair that no one visited his grave anymore before his brain had kicked back in.

So.

Yeah.

It’ll calm down in a day or two after the ghosts get used to Ryan and his friends being here.

Caroline twists around when the front door opens. Slight frown on her face as she looks at whoever came outside before her form flickers and she disappears.

Shy as fuck, Caroline.

Took over a month before she showed herself to him, and even longer before she told him her name. Showed up in his dreams, pretty, young thing with sandy blonde hair and warm brown eyes and this voice he can’t quite remember no matter how hard he tries

Sweet and shy and sad and she’s one of his favorites.

“Oh,” he hears, and turns to see Ryan hovering behind him, looking surprised to find him out here. “I didn't expect to see anyone up this early.”

The rest of Ryan’s groups is still asleep. They had a long night of it hunting for signs of the ghosts rumored to haunt the place, completely unaware of the curious audience they’d attracted with their ridiculous antics.

Someone has to set the food out for everyone, get the coffee brewing, and since this is Michael’s place? Makes sense it would be him.

Still, Ryan’s a decent guy, and Michael’s not a complete asshole.

“You can join me if you want,” he offers. “I don’t bite.”

Ryan gives him an odd look, and a moment later takes a seat on the swing beside him. Takes in the scenery, colors bleeding into the world as the sun climbs over the mountains.

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, lingering tension from Michael’s dreams fading as he revels in what his senses are telling him. Little things that help ground him in the here and now.

Cool breeze brushing his cheek. The slight motion of the swing and it rocks gently, sounds of the others starting to move around inside the house. Ryan’s solid presence beside him and the warmth of his body heat, sound of his breathing.

“So,” Ryan says, wry twist to his lips like he knows he’s not smooth. “How’d you end up out here?”

As far as opening gambits go, Michael’s heard worse.

From what he’s seen, Ryan’s a giant dork. The way his friends treat him – good-natured teasing, and amused little grins at his reactions when they mess with him help confirm that assessment.

That, and he’s just.

Dorky.

This quality Michael can’t put into words, one of those things you just know.

Michael shrugs, clutching his Red Bull like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. (Which is funny, because it tastes like shit, but it’s also infusing him with precious caffeine, so.)

“Hell if I know,” Michael says, and shrugs at the look Ryan gives him. “I was working as an electrician back in Jersey, and then my grandmother left me this place when she died.”

There’s a bit more to the story, things related to his ability to see ghosties and ghoulies and a promise he made when was a kid too dumb to know better. That fucking ghost cat rubbing up against his fingers, and his grandmother shaking her head, fond little smile on her face.

But it’s not like Michael can tell him that, not with his family history and the way he gets weird looks for living out here on his own as it is. (Like there aren’t people through here all the time anyway looking for a place to rest before going on their way.)

“I came out here to settle the paperwork and just never left.”

Ryan slides a look at him like he knows Michael isn’t giving him the full explanation, but thankfully doesn’t press him on it.

“You don’t strike me as a loner,” he says, because the place is pretty isolated.

The closest town is five or so miles to the east, and the nearest city of any size is an easy twenty or so past that.

Lot of forests and mountains and a scattering of rivers and lakes in between that’s a far cry from his life prior to this. (Michael’s first year here was certainly an experience, that’s for damn sure.)

Michael shrugs because he’s not, really.

But there are people through here all the time and the ghosts are always there. Like to poke their heads into his business, and generally make nuisances of themselves.

“Well, I mean,” Michael says, grins at the hint of color on Ryan’s cheeks as he imitates him. “There’s this thing called the internet these days. Lets me stay in contact with my friends and family, and phones are pretty great too. Also, cars and airplanes exist, which is also pretty neat.”

Ryan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face like he’d forgotten Michael isn’t living in some Victorian novel out here. Has high-speed internet and all the shiny things people tend to have in their fancy cities.

“Right, okay,” he mumbles, something endearing about it. “Forget I said anything.”

Michael shrugs and goes back to watching the sunrise and doesn’t think about how nice it is to share it with someone with a heartbeat for once.

========

Michael leaves Ryan and his buddies alone for the most part. Lets them shoot footage in the attic and down in the cellar basement. Points them towards the old hunting shack in the woods a quarter mile away where local legend says jealous suit murdered a young couple after following them there.

Laughs a little at the exited looks it gets him from some of them, the wide-eyed dread from the others.

Ryan shoots him a look, and Michael shrugs because as far as he knows no one’s been murdered out here. Just kids with their campfire stories that spun out of control over time, gained a life of their own.

“Be careful out there,” Michael warns. “Bears and all.”

Gavin squawks at that, hand gripping the sleeve of Jeremy’s jacket.

“Bears?”

Michael’s chuckle might be a little bit mean as he pretends to think about it. He likes these idiots, doesn’t see a reason why he shouldn’t give them a hard time while they’re here.

“Mountain lions, too.”

There have been sightings of both in recent years, but they tend to stick to places up north. Better hunting grounds and the like.

Less people to bother them, too.

Ryan rolls his eyes and goes over to help them pack up their gear for the trek out to the shack.

“You’re terrible,” he says, but there’s amusement in his voice and something like a smile on his face, so Michael doesn’t take it personally.

========

The week goes by fast, Ryan and his friends excited about the little blurs and blobs they catch on camera. The so-called conversations they have using that dumb little gadget.

Cold spots they run into in the attic and down in the cellar because the ghosts like to play games with people like them. Have their fun where they can, and always careful not to go to far with things.

If the ghost hunters are respectful – not necessarily polite because a fair amount of the ghosts around the place are assholes, but respectful – they’ll give them little things like that.

Use up some of their energy to manifest themselves more fully. Knock something over, become visible. Follow along behind them and place a hand on their skin to give them a chill.

All the things ghost hunting shows claim to have seen and experienced and he loves the way they seem so damn delighted with all of it.

“So you guys got what you wanted, huh.”

Ryan nods, sweet little smile on his face as he shows Michael footage they filmed in the second floor bathroom.

Claire’s favorite spot in the house because it has the best acoustics in the place and she was a singer.

“It’s amazing,” he says, pointing out the faint blur that could be anything, but Michael can see the long, flowing hair and sundress Claire prefers. “Clearest footage we’ve ever gotten.”

Michael hums, wondering if the other locations they’ve visited were actually haunted or just wishful thinking on their part.

“How’d you get caught up in all this anyway?” Michael asks.

Ryan doesn’t seem the type to believe in ghosts and the like.

Too pragmatic.

But, he’s here now. Has been gallivanting around the country with them for a while now, and doesn’t show signs of stopping anytime soon.

Ryan shrugs, pulling his hat off to run a hand through his hair before setting it back on his head.

“Hell if I know,” he says, giving Michael a crooked little grin. “I didn’t really believe in it much when I was a kid. My grandmother loved telling us kids ghost stories and it all seemed pretty impossible? But I got an apartment in college in this old building, probably built a hundred years ago or so, and things just...happened. Things I couldn’t find logical explanations for. Enough that I got curious, did some reading.”

There’s more to it than that, Michael can tell, but he lets it slide the way Ryan did with his half-assed explanation before.

“And then you ran into these guys,” Michael says, gesturing to where the others are huddled around the kitchen table going over footage and what they plan to do for their last few days here.

Ryan smiles, soft and stupidly fond of his friends. A motley bunch to be sure, loud and raucous and more than just a bunch of people who happen to work together from the way they act.

“Hey,” Ryan says, fidgeting with the tablet he’s holding, like he’s struggling to say something but can’t fine the words. Ends up settling for an awkward smile instead. “Uh, thanks for letting us film here.”

Michael glances at Ryan, and feels himself smile because it’s not like it was a hardship, really.

Of all the idiots who’ve come here looking to find ghosts, Ryan and the others have been the least annoying by far.

“You’re welcome, I guess,” he says. “I hope your fans like the episode.”

========

Lindsay catches him in the kitchen the morning they’re slated to leave.

This little smile on her face as she pours herself a mug of coffee and watches him.

“You need something?”

Lindsay’s smile widens as she takes a sip of her coffee. Dainty as all hell, and she never breaks eye-contact, which.

Terrifying.

Absolutely terrifying.

“Alright,” Michael says, slowly, as he tries to make it look like he’s not fleeing the room. “Enjoy your coffee.”

He bumps into Ryan in the doorway. Feels hands on his arm, his shoulder, when he stumbles, and a very solid chest pressed against his before they separate. (Hears Lindsay fucking laughing somewhere behind him.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” Ryan’s babbling, cheeks flushed s he belatedly lets go of Michael. “I’m like a zombie in the morning.”

“Uh,” Michael says, flailing for a response. “Same.”

Fuck.

Lindsay is full-on cackling now, and Michael is dying of mortification.

Ignores the flickers at the edge of his vision as curious ghosts poke their heads in to see what the ruckus is all about.

“What?” Ryan asks, confused little laugh in there.

Michael shakes his head and holds up his mug of coffee as explanation.

Ryan laughs again, this adorably dorky thing Michael likes way too damn much.

“Yeah,” Michael says, because words are still hard. “I’ve uh. Things to do?”

And then he flees, Lindsay’s demented cackling in his ears, and Ryan’s smile on his mind and stupid, stupid, stupid.

========

“So, uh,” Ryan says, sidling up to Michael. “This is probably kind out of the blue and everything? But.”

Michael looks up from his phone and smiles at the idiot. He looks like nervous as hell, fidgeting with his hat and looking hunted.

It’s been a few hours since they did that little dance in the kitchen, and Ryan and the others are are all packed up. Ready to head to their next destination before going back home to edit everything together for their upcoming season.

He can hear the others yelling to each other to make sure they haven’t left anything behind, last-second checks and general bickering.

“Hey,” Michael says, “everything okay?”

Ryan doesn’t quite wince, his face just does this thing.

Ryan looks around, like he’s checking to make sure they aren’t being watched and looks back at Michael.

“Lindsay,” Ryan says, and bites his lip. “Uh. Lindsay told me to get my shit together, so.”

Michael doesn’t know her that well, but she does seem like the kind of person who’d say something like that.

“Okay?” Michael says, and Ryan’s nervousness must be catching because Michael’s heart is doing all kinds of things in his chest and he feels like more of an idiot than he usually does.

Ryan sighs, and hands Michael a business card.

“Uh...”

A business card.

Not exactly what he was expecting given how nervous Ryan is, but it’s not like he know the guy all that well.

“I figured,” Ryan says, awkward little smile on his face. “It would be a bit presumptuous of me to just come out and ask for your number, so.”

Ryan’s cheeks are this fascinating pink quickly shading to red as Michael stares at him.

“My cell number is on there,” Ryan says, hopeful lilt to his voice at the end, eyebrows going up in the world’s least subtle hint because apparently he didn’t quite succeed at getting his shit in order.

Michael laughs, because the two of them are idiots, aren’t they?

“What a coincidence,” he says, before Ryan can take Michael laughing in his face as a bad sign. He holds up his phone. “I was trying to work up the courage to ask you for yours.”

Wrestling with the notion that they were barely more than strangers at this point. that Ryan wouldn’t be interested in keeping a long distance relationship going for someone he’d just met. Trying to convince him he should try anyway because he like Ryan a whole hell of a lot.

Ryan looks gobsmacked.

“What?”

Michael rolls his eyes and makes a show of entering putting Ryan’s number in his phone, and feeling a little stupidly reckless snaps a picture of him to use as a contact picture.

It’s fucking terrible, Ryan still looking utterly bewildered and confused by this turn of events, and Michael loves it.

“God, that’s awful,” Michael says, and shows Ryan so he can see for himself. “You look like an idiot.”

Ryan shoots Michael a wounded look.

“Hey,” he says, this note to his voice like he can’t believe Michael didn’t shut him down or punch him in the face for hitting on him in the middle of nowhere.

Michael grins at him, and his dumb heart does this little somersault when Ryan smiles back, all soft and shy and sweet and goddamn, they’re so dumb.

“I don’t have a business card to give you,” Michael says, because who the fuck does that? “So I hope this is acceptable.”

Ryan looks confused, but Michael’s already typing on his phone. A moment later Ryan’s phone goes off with a new message notification.

“Nice,” Ryan says, when he checks it, because it’s a happy little smiley face, because Michael likes to stick with the classics and all in these kinds of situations. (Or maybe he didn’t want to start things off by sending Ryan an emoji flipping him the bird. Doesn’t want to send mixed signals.)

Someone starts honking the horn of that van they rented, and Ryan groans because it’s a pattern. Sounds vaguely like a top fifty hit from a few years ago and it’s an amazing display of skill.

“Wow,” Michael says, and very carefully does not laugh at Ryan’s suffering.

“Yeah,” he sighs, reluctant smile pulling at his mouth. “Yeah.”

Rather than stare at each other awkwardly, Michael gets to his feet and walks Ryan to the driveway. Grins at the enthusiastic greeting the two of them get. Ryan’s friends laughing and cheering when they realize he hasn’t been brutally rejected, and the ghosts -

There’s a small crowd of them lined up by the edge of the driveway watching them.

All of them seem amused, this faint sound of laughter the air when they see how close Michael and Ryan are standing.

“Guess this is goodbye,” Ryan says, and like the idiot he is holds his hand out like he expects Michael to shake it.

Michael rolls his eyes and pulls him in for a hug, figures it’s not going to offend Ryan’s delicate sensibilities or give his asshole friends too much ammunition to use against him.

“Call me you fuck,” Michael tells him, and tightens his arms around him when he feels Ryan’s laughter rumbling through his chest.

========

The two of them talk a couple of times a week to start with. After a little troubleshooting on his end Michael gets his webcam sorted out and they add Skyping to their routine.

That turns out to be the worst because there’s a slight time difference, and Ryan usually Skypes him before bed. Looks all soft and sleepy in worn t-shirts, hair a mess and this dopey little smile when he sees Michael.

It’s.

Not a normal relationship they’re working on here, but it’s nice.

Really fucking nice, especially when Ryan texts him random shit if he thinks Michael will appreciate it or calls when he just misses Michael’s voice. (Michael returning the favor there are hundreds of miles between them, and the house gets lonely even with the ghosts and occasional guests for company.)

A few months after Ryan and his buddies came out to film, the episode goes up on YouTube and Michael watches it with Ryan being a nervous Nellie in the Skype window.

Worried Michael's going to offended at something they did, hate him forever or some shit.

But, you know, he doesn’t because it’s fucking good. Their theories about some of the ghosts are completely wrong. Tend towards Hollywood melodrama because that’s what people have come to expect with their ghost stories, murder and intrigue and crimes of passion. Overlook the small tragedies of life, bad luck and unfortunate circumstances and what loneliness can do to someone.

Still, their version of events make for good stories and are sure to get them more views which will be good for them. (It’s not like the ghosts are going to begrudge them that.)

The segments where they interview him about the house’s history paint him in a favorable light. Somehow manage not to make him look like he’s a raging asshole, which has got to be some kind of miracle.

“Did you like it?” Ryan asks, fretting over Michael's reaction.

“Eh,” Michael says, like he’s not going to send links to his family to watch. Isn’t going to set up a viewing for the ghosts, cobble something together they can watch without frying anything because they're definitely going to get a kick out of it. “It’s not terrible.”

Ryan sighs, so very put upon, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth and his body language is all relief.

“It’s great you idiot,” Michael tells him, and it’s not being biased on his part.

The comments are mostly favorable so far, and sure, there will be the usual assholes, but no one listens to them anyway, so who the fuck cares what they have to say? (That is Michael being biased, but really Fuck off with that shit.)

Ryan clears his throat, this thing he tends to do when he’s about to go all bashful, awkward dork on Michael.

“Uh,” Ryan says, and he’s fussing with his webcam, making these teeny, tiny adjustments like it’s out of focus when it absolutely is not. “So. We’ve got this season wrapped up.”

Michael nods, because Ryan’s been keeping him updated on that in between everything else.

“And,” Ryan continues. “We get a break before we start working on the next season. I just need to see to some shit here and then, you know.”

Michael has a feeling he does know, dumb heart sitting up and taking notice in case it needs to engage in thrilling acrobatics bullshit again.

“Ryan?”

Ryan’s giving him this look, like words are hard and he’s shit at them, but Michael knows fucking well what he’s trying to say here.

“I mean,” Michael says, fighting a smile. “I don’t usually take reservations like this, but I guess I can make an exception just this once.”

Ryan snorts, and Michael's smile breaks free.

“How kind of you,” Ryan says, stupid smile on his face. “I’d appreciate it if you would. I was thinking a week, maybe longer.”

That sounds doable. (Sounds goddamned incredible, honestly.)

“Hey, no problem,” Michael says, just to see the exasperation on Ryan’s face, that little sigh he does when Michael’s giving him shit.

“You’re the worst,” Ryan says, sounding like he means the opposite, which is a mutual thing, really.

Still, Michael can’t let that one go, can he.

“Yeah? Big man telling me that over a Skype call,” Michael says, can’t seem to stop the laughter leaking into his voice. “Too chicken to say it to me in person?”

Ryan opens his mouth for a retort, and blinks when he realizes he can when he gets out here.

“Holy shit,” Ryan says, laughing like an idiot. “I’m going to?”

Least effective threat Michael's ever heard, but this is Ryan he’s talking about, so.

“Yeah,” Michael says, so damn fond of this idiot. “You really are.”

A little bit longer and they’ll get to see each other again in person. No crappy phone reception, no laggy internet connection. Just the two of them and this house with all its ghosts and whatever guests decide they need a vacation right then.

Super romantic and all, and Michael cannot fucking wait.

#myan #ragehappy #ghost hunters #vagrant fic #i've beeen meaning to post this one for a while #just like #eventually i will accomplish ALL the romcom plots ever #and my life will be complete #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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crimeshowtrash · 6 years

Text

Merry Kiss My Ass

Wow what a cutie.

Ficmas Day 6

Jennifer Jareau x Reader

It just so happened to be that the first snowfall of the year occurred early Christmas morning. When they all woke up the snow was perfect for having a snowball fight, and both JJ and Y/N’s kids took note of that, before begging their mothers to go play in the snow after they finished opening presents. JJ and Y/N easily gave into their kids demands, just thankful that their kids got along. They were both scared that their kids wouldn’t get along, and had waited ages before introducing them to each other. Thankfully all went well and Henry and Michael got along swimmingly with Y/N’s kids, Joseph and Jessica. Jessica was the youngest of all the kids and both Henry and Michael were very protective of her, which had taken both JJ and Y/N by surprise.

That morning JJ and Y/N were both woken up earlier than they would have liked. Apparently, Jessica woke up first and went to her brothers to wake everyone up so that they could see what Santa had brought them this year. Henry was twelve and had already figured out that Santa did not exist but played into the ruse to keep his younger siblings happy. They all went downstairs, with Y/N and JJ still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, exhausted due to their own Christmas celebration which had ocurred in their bedroom the night prior. They were all wearing matching pajamas, in a black and red plaid pattern, that Y/N had found at Macy’s during Black Friday.

The kids all opened their presents one by one, while Y/N took out her phone so that they could treasure these moments forever. Jessica was the first one, as she was the youngest. She opened her present to find that Santa had granted her wish and brought her soccer ball, so that she could learn soccer from her new step-mom. She loved JJ so much and wanted to be exactly like her. Although Y/N prayed that she didn’t follow Jayje’s career path. Joseph had gotten a new football jersey, he supported the Eagles like his step-mom did. JJ had a soft spot for the Eagles, having grown up in Pennsylvania her entire life. Michael had gotten a leather baseball glove, having grown out of his old vinyl one. And Henry had gotten a new basketball, his old one kept on losing air. They had also each gotten smaller gift items such as candy and clothes, but the kids were much more interested in their main presents. Not long after the presents had been opened, talk of the snowball fight had started up again.

“Can we have a snowball fight?” quipped up Jessica. Her older brothers always got her to ask because she was the youngest and the only girl, which usually lead to JJ and Y/N giving into her demands.

JJ and Y/N gave each other a knowing glance and nodded before JJ said, “but only if you guys go change. You should all be wearing layers”.

The kids eagerly ran up the stairs so that the long awaited snowball fight could soon commence. JJ and Y/N headed upstairs as well so they could partake in the fight with their kids. Everyone was downstairs and ready within ten minutes. When Y/N opened the door, they all headed outside before they teamed up.

“I call mom” shouted out Jessica, before she ran up to JJ.

“I can’t believe my own daughter has abandoned me” yelled out Y/N in mock outrage. Jessica rolled her eyes and giggled at her “silly” mommy. The teams ended up being JJ, Jessica, and Michael vs Y/N, Joseph and Henry. Both the teams were given five minutes to make as many snowballs as possible, before the war started.

“READY, SET, GO” yelled out Henry.

Immediately snowballs started flying every which way. The snow was still fluffy enough that when it smacked against the kids no one would get hurt. The boys pelted the snowballs as hard as they could in an attempt to knock the other team’s players down. The snow seeped through the layers that everyone had on, but the game continued.

“Nananabooboo” cried out Jessica, when her snowball finally hit Joseph in the face.

“Ha, I got you” shouted Michael when he flung a snowball and it hit Henry’s chest.

“You’ll never get me” yelled JJ as she dodged yet another one of the snowballs that Y/N had cast her way.

Y/N glared at JJ, getting way too into the snowball fight than she had anticipated. She made a vow to hit Jayje at least once that day.

Slowly but surely the speed of the game was dying off. Everyone was freezing, their extremities numb. The flying snowballs slowed down. Jessica had gotten distracted and started making snow angels on the small patch of fresh snow by the driveway. She had dragged Henry into making snow angels with her, the twelve year old had a massive soft spot for his younger sister. Joseph and Michael had gotten bored of the fight, and started making a snow fort. But Y/N and JJ’s concentration never wavered. They continued to pelt snowballs, hoping to catch the other off guard.

Finally, after what seemed like years in the frigid weather, Y/N had managed to lob a massive snowball in JJ’s direction. JJ, whose attention faltered as she looked over at the fort that Michael had been asking her to see, was pelted in the back of the head with the snowball. She stumbled, scrambling in an attempt to catch her footing, before she fell face forward in a pile of snow.

“I WON, DID YOU SEE ME? I WON!” shouted Y/N, jumping up and down with joy.

JJ, still shocked, not expecting to be caught off guard threw a look of unbelief Y/N’s way. Although she was not ecstatic over the loss, she smiled at her wife who was still giddy with excitement over the win.

The kids all rolled their eyes at their mom’s antics before going back to playing in the snow.

“You won, we get it. Now let’s get out of the cold. We should be in the warmth, it’s Christmas for god’s sake” said JJ, pushing herself off of the ground and dusting off the snow.

“MERRY KISS MY ASS” yelled out Y/N still running on the high from her win.

JJ rolled her eyes at her childlike wife, before she ushered the kids into the house. When Y/N finally entered their home, the kids were all upstairs changing and JJ was waiting for her wife downstairs on the sofa.

“Can you believe I won against an actual FBI agent?” asked Y/N, teasing her gorgeous wife.

JJ simply smiled before saying, “come on, we still haven’t opened our presents”. She handed Y/N a red and green gift bag.

“Jayje, I thought you gave me my present last night?” joked Y/N, before she let out a smirk.

“Just open the present you doof” said JJ, hoping that her wife would enjoy the present JJ spent weeks scouring for.

Y/N complied, and took out the tissue paper before she let out a gasp. JJ had gotten her a new tripod, her old one had given out after years of use. Y/N was a nature and wildlife photographer and having an uneven and wobbly tripod was not the most effective way to take photos.

“JJ, you didn’t have to do that!” claimed Y/N, as she gave her wonderful wife a hug.

“Come on, you’ve needed a new one for ages. Especially with your shoot in Alaska coming up soon” said JJ.

“Okay fine, here’s your gift babe” replied Y/N, as she grabbed the very last gift bag from underneath the Christmas tree and handed it to JJ.

JJ’s eyes widened as she opened the gift. It was a massive amount of goodies to help her relax. There were lush bath bombs, bath salts, a bath pillow, and even more goodies. Along with that there was a voucher for a deep treatment massage at spa in DC. JJ was always tense, it came with her job, which is why massages and baths were a very common occurrence in their household. Most nights, Y/N would give JJ a massage before they slept to help her fall asleep, although more often than not the massage would end in sex and they ended up dozing off in a post-orgasmic bliss.

“Y/N, thank you so much. I love you” said JJ

“I love you to Jayje” responded Y/N.

Y/N scooted closer to JJ so that they were cuddling. She wrapped her arms around JJ’s petite frame, as she rested her head in the crook of JJ’s neck. The two sat on the couch, waiting for their children to come downstairs so that they could enjoy the rest of the day watching movies, drinking hot chocolate, and watching the snow as it continued to fall on the cold December day.

Taglist - @bitchinprentiss @anisha-r @estompe @lookwhatyoumademequeue @chocok22 @cherry-loves-fanfic @dakotapaigelove @ssa-aaronhotchner

MASTERLIST

A/N This is my first JJ fic so I hope ya’ll enjoy! Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist. Also please leave love if you enjoyed it!

#Jennifer Jareau #jj #jj x reader #jj imagine #jj one shot #jj fanfic #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds one shot #bau #bau fanfic #bau x reader #bau imagine #bau oneshot

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junker-town · 5 years

Text

Women were playing football in the 1930s — then came the backlash

Photo by Ivan Dmitri/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

How the growing popularity of women’s football in the 1930s was met with widespread efforts to keep girls off the gridiron

“A fortnight ago in Los Angeles, those romantics who still believe in nursery rhymes and the dignity of womanhood got a rude shock,” LIFE Magazine brayed in a November 1939 issue. The shock in question came from a new Southern Californian league of what papers around the country had taken to calling “girl gridders”: women playing tackle football, apparently without sugar, spice and everything nice. In the case of the Stars, the Amazons and the Rinky Dinks (really), they were playing in front of thousands.

Take halfback Shirley Payne of the Stars, who had made her name outrunning Mickey Rooney (yes, that Mickey Rooney) during a 1938 halftime exhibition game against his team, the MGM Wildcats; that co-ed matchup was billed as groundbreaking. Or the Amazons’ Lois Roberts, who punted 50 yards barefoot.

“Strangely enough, they played good football,” wrote a man (probably) in the same spread, still concluding that “it would be better for girls to stick to swimming, tennis and softball.”

Photo by Peter Stackpole/Life Magazine/The LIFE Picture Collection via Getty Images

From a 1939 spread in LIFE magazine on women playing football in Southern California

Members of that league, which also became the topic of a widely distributed newsreel, were just the most visible members of a rapidly growing class of girl and women football players.

Alabama’s Luverne Wise got an honorable mention for the all-state team for her performance at kicker and quarterback; her senior year, she said her dream was to “get a job coaching a girls’ football team.” Esther Burnham, a 14-year-old, played center for her Connecticut high school team — when a local paper asked why, she explained that she did it “for excitement.” Seventeen-year-old Texan Juanita McCrury was kicking extra points for her high school. Sacramento’s junior college organized a women’s team. 1938 John Barrymore vehicle Hold That Coed even featured a “girl gridder” played by comedian Joan Davis. Her punchline? “Let me take the ball — no Southern gentleman would think of tackling a lady!”

Photo by Ivan Dmitri/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

A pair of defenders tackle the ballcarrier during a game of women’s football circa 1940.

Judging by the breathless coverage around these examples (examples that almost certainly represent only a fraction of the total number of girls and women playing), girls’ enthusiasm for football was still clearly deemed unusual. But it was also having enough of an impact that institutions around the country were taking measures to keep girls off the gridiron — or at least from playing the same game the boys were.

Spalding tried to divert the interest of potential women football players (and open up a new revenue stream) by distributing a pamphlet of rules for “American Football For Women” in late 1939, “a safe game for all classes of women to play because there is no tackling or blocking or any other feature permitted that would be injurious to them.”

It was essentially two-hand touch, the kind had already been adapted for “powderpuff” games around the country (like one 1940 matchup at the University of South Carolina for which each participating co-ed’s phone number was listed in the program). If you made intentional contact, there was a 25 yard penalty; there were no kick-offs, and you weren’t allowed to catch punts. Each drive automatically started on the 40 yard line — a bigger handicap than was included in the touch rules Spalding released simultaneously as a safer alternative for young boys. Be sure to buy those “official women’s football breast protectors,” though!

Photo by Ivan Dmitri/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

Players gather on the sidelines for a game of women’s football circa 1940.

Despite the fact that this version of football was about as innocuous as a game of badminton, the editors of Youth Leaders Digest — an industry publication that counted executives from parks departments, Boys and Girls Clubs, the YMCA, Boy Scouts and more among its contributing editors — were concerned. (Perhaps they hadn’t read the rules themselves.) “Do you think ‘a kick in the stomach’ or a ‘blow on the breasts’ or maybe a short journey into the unconscious carries with it any type of character building our high school or college girls need?” they asked, quoting the LIFE feature.

It seemed like a rhetorical question, but apparently the editorial garnered an immediate and unusual response — mostly in staunch agreement with its disbelief that any girl or woman would ever even imagine playing football.

“Girls’ football is here — whether as a passing fad or permanent exploitation, no one yet knows,” wrote University of Michigan professor Elmer D. Mitchell in the Journal of Health and Physical Education. “But even if girls’ football is a passing fad, this editorial will have served some usefulness if it can hurry the idea along to a quick end...stop women’s football in every way you can! Do not give it a chance to grow!” His reasoning: if football is hard for men, it will be impossible for women; women don’t actually want to play; oh, and — they’re ugly when they do.

From the director of health education for the YWCA: “We urge each one of you to protest in your communities the spread of such an insidious thing as this.” From the supervisor of P.E. in New Jersey public schools: “‘Ridiculous’ is the word for it.” A New York doctor compared the LIFE spread to the fall of the Roman Empire. OSU coach Francis Schmidt: “No one in his right mind would propose such a thing.” The superintendent of the Los Angeles parks and recreation department — so, in the same city where women playing football were attracting massive publicity and thousands of fans — announced that they would no longer permit the use of their facilities for girls’ football: “It is quite obvious that football (regardless of rules) is wholly unsuited to the physiological and anatomical limitations of girls.”

The head of the Bethlehem, Pennsylvania parks & recreation department might have come the closest to getting the point, while also missing it completely: “I think the typical American girl today is a girl who is quite feminine, who has charm and poise and is really a woman. A mannish tomboy type of girl should not be set up as an example of American womanhood; and I do think that if our girls started playing football, there would probably be created a new type of women for our girls to emulate.”

Naturally, Spalding responded with what might have been the equivalent of “...did you click the link?” “Under no circumstances would A.G. Spalding & Bros lower themselves in allowing...rules that even verged on the type of football that has had so much publicity,” replied a Spalding staffer. “We most heartily agree with your attitude in connection with a football game where women would have the clothes torn off of them [Ed. Note: ???], or would be subjected to various forms of injury; even the viewing of such a game would be unsightly.”

But it was too late: Spalding’s rules, as combined with the images presented in the LIFE spread, provoked vehement rejection of the mere idea of women playing football, and subsequent bans for girls in football across the country — many by statewide school athletic associations. Pennsylvania and Texas were among the first to legislate girls’ participation; as girls kept trying to play — despite the renewed resistance they faced as a result of gaining the tiniest foothold in the sport — new mandates kept being put in place to stop them.

Photo by Peter Stackpole/Life Magazine/The LIFE Picture Collection via Getty Images

From a 1939 LIFE magazine spread about women playing football in Southern California

A Massachusetts girl named Myrtle Chick kept showing up to her high school football team’s practice, only to get turned away despite universal acknowledgement that she was one of the school’s best athletes, according to a 1941 Boston Globe feature. “The girls among Myrtle’s senior classmates are her staunchest supporters,” wrote the Globe. “‘She’ll show them if they’ll only give her a chance,’ say the young women.”

There had been women football players prior to those who rose to minor acclaim in the late 1930s, and there would be more after them. But the institutional rejection of women’s participation in football at this particular juncture illustrates an important point: women have only ever gotten banned from sports after first playing them. The idea that women are incapable of equal participation is only ever made explicit after they have….equally participated.

Even more stark is the fundamental contradiction of conventional narratives around women’s participation in sports, particularly the idea that as women play, they “open doors” for those who might come next — that all it takes is one brave soul to go “first,” and then the systemic sexism is cured. The relatively insignificant amount of success and visibility the women football players of the 1930s had earned actually provoked a stifling reaction and explicit mandates banning them from the sport — just about the furthest thing from a clear path for the next generation.

Obviously, not a great deal has changed for women in football since: players are still covered as local novelties in the exact same ways, and all-women teams are mostly ignored. Despite that, many women still channel the audacious spirit of early players like Chick. She told the Globe that since they wouldn’t let her play, she was going to try to form a girls’ team — and if she succeeded, had no qualms about “trying to book a game against those stuck-up boys.”

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bowserbabe · 7 years

Text

So @nightlocktime wants to know how the convention went. So, basically it was crazy.

On Thursday we realized how far it was to walk from the hotel to the convention. But I wanted to go ahead and check in and wander about. So we walked the 100 miles from the hotel to the convention center in the thousand degree heat and got all registered or whatever. Except apparently I checked in wrong, which we didn’t fix until Friday. But it didn’t matter. We walked around the dealer room a bit and I got Chandler Riggs’ autograph. He didn’t put my name on it though, and his hair is too long, but ya know whatever. As far as I know that was the only day he was there? I didn’t see him again anyway.

(I think that’s right? I might have seen him on Friday. But I thought it was Thursday. Thursday and Friday were very similar convention-wise to me.)

Friday was slightly more conventiony. I think that’s the day I was like “Did I really check in right?” and they were like no, you’re an idiot, here is all your Capaldi swag (aka autograph and photo op tickets). And a nifty... thingy that goes on a lanyard. I have a picture, I’ll add it if I can figure out how to from my phone. Or I’ll pull it off my phone. I’LL MANAGE SOMEHOW.

And then we went and saw Michael Cudlitz talk about a bunch of things I haven’t seen. IMDB says I’ve actually seen him in a bunch of things, but mostly he talked about Band of Brothers and Walking Dead (oddly enough). I think I took some pictures, I’ll have to look. I haven’t looked through any of that stuff yet. I don’t think we did anything else on Friday? Most of the big name people hadn’t shown up yet.

And then SATURDAY. Saturday was exciting because I knew I would be seeing Peter soon. Saturday I ended up with some time to myself because my friend dropped me off and then parked the car back at the hotel and then walked. Because he’s a beast. So I got autographs. I think I got... um... Pom Klementieff, Michael Cudlitz, Ralph Macchio, William Zabka... were there other people there? At some point we went and watched Power Rangers Amy Jo Johnson and Jason David Frank. And then... it was photo op time, I think. Peter + Karen photo op, and then just Peter. I pretty much just stood there and tried to make my face look decent.

Then autograph time! Karen was... still taking pictures? so she was late for doing autographs. They have these little tiny lines for people to stand in and so it doesn’t take much to fill them up. And they don’t want people making the lines longer because it interferes with foot traffic. So they just stand there and don’t let anyone else get in line until the line starts to move. Which actually just means we all mill about near the line but not in it, hoping we can get in before everyone else. I sort of just did circles around Dante-and-Jay-from-Clerks’ tables until I could get in line.

Karen was nice, I don’t remember really what I said, hopefully it wasn’t terrible. Then PETER AUTOGRAPH TIME. I got up there and he signed my picture and my friend started talking to him but he was still putting little star-like dots all over my picture and I probably just stood there with heart eyes, although I did argue that Twelve was amazing from the very beginning and did not take any getting used to (which is what my friend was saying) and Peter probably signed something to my friend but I was probably busy heart-eyeing and trying to not say anything stupid.

Oh yeah, the lady taking the autograph tickets scared me. Because there were two levels of autographs (level 1 was on pictures they had there, and then level 2 was on anything else) and she was saying personalizations were level 2 instead of 1. And I was like... BUT I NEED PETER TO WRITE MY NAME (but I only said that in my head) and she was like, no no, the tickets are fine, you get personalization with that. And I was okay. This... this story was not as exciting as thought it was going to be.

And then we ran upstairs to see Karen’s panel. They were like NO VIDEO AND NO PHOTOGRAPHY so I didn’t take any, but other people did. Jerks. I haven’t looked, maybe there’s stuff on youtube. Supposedly the Supercon people recorded everything and will put it on youtube? I dunno. Karen was pretty great. She’s a lot like Amy, at least in terms of getting excited and dealing with strange questions and things. And I think that was the end of Saturday.

Sunday we went over super early (well, like... 8 or so, the convention center didn’t open until 8:30 I think) and as soon as they let us in, we went up and got in line / sat outside the room Peter was going to be talking in. We were... 4th and 5th in line, I think. A ton of people eventually showed up. I meant to take pictures but I forgot. They eventually let us in so we went up and sat on the front row in the center section over to the side where they had people lining up to ask questions. So that he would be looking in my direction most of the time. >.> I was going to ask a question but that ended up not happening. Whatever.

They did a like 15 minute thing first where they talked about Twelve and things and had the cosplayers get up on stage and show off their... selves, and then we realized that Peter was up there with them (it took me a minute to notice, which is sad because I was kind of expecting it) and then that segued into Peter’s panel.

PETER. UNF.

I tried to record a lot of it but I don’t know how it turned out. Apparently I’m crap at using my camera because I haven’t used it for anything real in several years. Also I had bought a telephoto / zoom / whatever lens with no automatic focus, and apparently I’m bad at manual focus, but hopefully I got some stuff. I’ll look tonight. (Looks like they might be uploading stuff to youtube currently? Nothing I care about yet, but who knows.) It blew through my memory cards, so I have like 2 twenty minute segments and then a bunch of random pictures at the end. Whatever. I’ll look.

I wanted him to talk about Jenna but mostly he just told the story of her showing up at work wearing a mask of someone he’d been teasing would be her replacement. Which I already heard somewhere...? It’s probably on my tumblr. Tumblr should allow for better categorizing.

Then they did the Karate Kid panel so we stuck around for that. At the end of that the three of them did a quick autograph signing so I got that, and then we ran downstairs for more photos. I may have spent too much money on photos.

After that we ran over to Peter’s autograph line which was non-existant at the moment and got in it. I got a poster signed (this one) and my friend got his photo op picture signed. Peter looked at it and sort of made a confused/amused noise and said something about it being unfortunate. My friend had him write a little thought bubble above himself and a few other little things and then signed it like normal.

And then we were done? Except I missed the Power Rangers part which was on... Saturday, I guess? Probably after Karen’s panel. They were super busy the entire time with a pretty long line. I made my friend get in line for Jason David Frank because his line was getting crazier and then I ran off and got Martin Kove to sign a picture. He was like “You want a ‘sweep the leg’?” and I said yes, and he was like “We’ll throw in a ‘no mercy’ too.“ Which amused me. So I go back and Jason’s line hasn’t moved, but meanwhile Amy Jo Johnson has no one in her VIP line (I suspect more from crowdedness than lack of interest, it was hard to tell who was in which line when) and my friend is like “Green ranger? Pfffft. I’m gonna go get her signature.” So I stay in line and he runs through and gets her autograph and then I’m like... well, obviously I should do the same thing. So he stays in line and I go get a Flashpoint picture (I never actually watched Power Rangers) and she signs it and says something about “No joy” which she writes on it (I do internal heart eyes becuase I love Flashpoint) and then I would guess starts to write “Kimberly” because oddly enough that’s what she was mostly signing, then realizes, and does this weird K into a J thing sort of so that it says Jules instead, except it looks really weird. But I’m happy with it because it’s funny to me. And then Jason finally shows up and I get his autograph, and then we run away to dinner.

I THINK THAT’S IT. This was too long and I’m gonna edit out the parts about the photo ops. But then... posting.

I FORGOT. ABOUT. RICKY.

Ricky Whittle is amazing. I went up to get an autograph and ended up getting my autograph plus two hugs and he kissed my cheek. I would have gone through that line again. And again. >.>

We saw him talk as well. I think before Power Rangers? He talked a lot about American Gods which I haven’t seen yet, and some about The 100 episodes I haven’t seen yet. So a lot of stuff I haven’t seen yet. But he’s a hottie even with his current silly haircut and he’s all muscular and British and unf. Just lakjfklahfkalshfkljshf. I’ve been trying to limit photo ops to big stuff (So far just David Tennant, Lana, and Peter (with a Karen thrown in)) but I wish I had gotten one with him. I was looking through the pictures on flickr and they’re just like... crazy. Unf.

Okay, that should be everything. For real this time.

#con: superpeter #personal tag is not very personal

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cosmosogler · 7 years

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starting late because i was watching a video essay. worth it. well, “late” as in 11:40 instead of like 11:30.

today i...? i woke up on time basically. i don’t remember what i was dreaming about any more. maybe i could start writing that down. i could.

i think i goofed off online for a while and then went downstairs because i desired salsa. dad had left to pick up mother from the car repair shop. i KNOW i did something in that time span but i really don’t remember at all.

just as i was grabbing the chips they returned with donuts. so i had... salsa and a chocolate donut. i’m cool.

while i was nibbling on my brunch i went through all the mysterious discs i had found both in my closet and on my shelves. none of them were labeled so i had to put each one into mom’s computer to figure out what it was, and then label it and put it in a case instead of laying around in envelopes. target’s old photo service is gone and the viewing software isn’t compatible with newer computers so i thought i had lost all those images, but i found a workaround (after i had emailed customer service... of course). i also labeled all the leftover photo envelopes. that saved me a lot of time later when i didn’t have the chair or desk.

when i finished with that i made plans to get some supplies with mother around 5. then i tidied up my to-do jar and cleaned the bathroom entirely. like it’s sparkling. the disinfectant made me lightheaded though so i had to spray and then leave the fan on for 5 minutes while i did other things outside the bathroom, and then wipe, and then spray again... i also fixed up the cleaning supply closet a little bit. i need dad’s help to fix the sink i think. not sure how to proceed with that. it’s not clogged, but it’s draining slow. i don’t know what my sister does with that sink but there is constantly hair all over it.

after that i still felt restless and agitated so i organized my entire bookmarks bar. i kind of just dumped everything into what looked like the right folder... i’m going to have to go through each folder individually later and check for broken links, or things i can group together so that one folder isn’t overwhelmingly large. and i’ll definitely need to start actually looking in the folders when i’m bored and need something to do. ha ha...

i downloaded a couple new songs from oc remix and updated my ipod as well. and fixed some of my albums that were acting weird on the menu. half of one of them was marked as a compilation and the other half was not.

then it was just after 5 so i bullied mom out of the house. we went to michaels and i got some rubber bands and photo albums. mom got some replacement stuff for her kitchen shelves. when she actually does the replacements i’ll be able to finish that project.

i also convinced her to stop for noodles for dinner. i called home to see what dad and my brother wanted... dad ended up snapping at my brother super loud. it was loud on the phone and i knew he was in a different room. my brother ended the conversation very quickly after that when previously he had been a little more interested in the menu. i know the feel.

so when i got home i shoveled pasta in my mouth (and managed to eat it all!!) and took my albums upstairs. i was pleased to find that i had bought exactly as many albums as i had envelopes, when at the store i had had to guess from memory. unfortunately some of the envelopes were so sparse that i could put two sets in one album. so i have two albums left over in case i come across any more loose pictures.

and i read for a while. i shouldn’t have... my eyes REALLY hurt and i was grinding my teeth super hard again today. it’s hard to want to use my reading glasses when i use the computer... it feels like it’s just out of the range i would hold a book at so the glasses aren’t quite what i need. but it would probably be better than just using my eyes vanilla style.

i am again avoiding doing emotional work by keeping myself super busy with projects. at least my living space looks super nice. but i am running out of useful ways to procrastinate.

i noticed today when i put on a previously tight shirt that it was... not tight at all. it fits me like it used to in high school. and i might actually need a belt for these shorts. it’s weird. i took a quick look in the mirror and i do look more like how i look in my head. very bizarre. i kind of hope i don’t gain the weight back after the surgery. i don’t see why i would, but, i am nervous about it anyway. i’m not thin by any measure ‘cause i got a pudding bod, but the weight loss since my condition started is very noticeable by now. it hasn’t really leveled off either.

i try not to think about my weight/appearance too much because i think if i thought about it every day i would never be satisfied with myself. at least, i would consciously be not satisfied and it would bother me. so i just don’t look at myself much. but a lot of people who know me have been all, “you look good!” and “you’ve really lost weight, huh?” and it’s like... ok, thanks for thinking i look “good,” as in “better,” because i wasn’t good before apparently. but also, thanks for not paying attention to the fact that i don’t FEEL good at all. that’s why it’s a disease or disorder. like cool, i’m glad that my horrible gallbladder malfunction makes it easier for you to look at me. i haven’t been able to eat regular meals in six months, but you know, losing weight is more important than a functional digestive system. i wish there was a comment i could make that would like, slap them on the wrist verbally when they pull out the “you look good”s.

i dunno, my outfit or hair are things i have more control over. and i understand telling someone that you like they way they look, or pointing out a beautiful tree so that others can also appreciate its beauty. it’s not comments on appearance that are inherently... insensitive. but if your family member has had a chronic illness for the better part of a year and the best you can pull out is “at least you lost weight!”, then maybe something is wrong?

ehhh. i also organized my jewelry into a single case (and earring frog). and a little bag for all my hair clips. i will be ready for any seasonal theme in grad school now. i even found a spoopy skeleton necklace and cannibalized an old chain to fix the exo necklace i bought at the concert with my sister. the trinket is fairly lowkey so i might be able to convince myself to wear it.

ok, it is hitting 12:20. i’ve been writing for a while. i don’t really want to go to bed... i am profoundly bored. well, not bored, i’ve been keeping busy enough and doing things when i have the energy. i guess a better thing to put my finger on would be “profoundly lonely.” i basically just dump everything i have to say on asher. i have trouble leaving him alone for more than a few hours. my sister’s always at work or school (both are full time) and my brother... i’ve found that he doesn’t really have a lot to say to me. it’s really hard to talk to him unless i’ve got some cousins around to diffract some of the attention. joking around with him has been a little fraught since those holocaust “jokes” last year. and if we’re not joking around, we don’t really have a solid language to communicate with. i can only make so many puns.

and my best puns are only when i am possessed by the spirit of terrible, terrible jokes. otherwise they get kinda forced even when i have a large vocabulary to work with. but the spirit is on and off, i can’t do that on command.

it’s my bedtime. it’s hard to sleep when you’re... (lonely) (depressed) (restless) (sore) too tired to sleep.

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closure4cobain · 7 years

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Setting the stage (x_x) part2

A few hours before Courtney arrived at the hotel she gave an interview to Select magazine. During the interview Courtney Love brought out a box of rohypnol and placed it on the table in front of the journalist. She then popped several of the pills. Rohypnol is considered a "date rape drug" as side effects from ingestion include incapacitation and anterograde amnesia. The prescription was in Courtney's name. March 3, 1994 Kurt Cobain overdosed at his hotel in Rome, found unresponsive, and was admitted to the hospital. Kurt was rushed to the Umberto I Polyclinic Hospital, and had his stomach pumped. He was in a coma then transferred to Rome American Hospital, where he regained consciousness later. When awake and able to express what took place, Cobain was adamant that this was not a suicide attempt. That he simply wrote Courtney a letter (regarding a divorce he was seeking), gathered their money and was going to leave.. next thing he knew, he is in a hospital with tubes in his nose and he is being told he almost died. Cobain had called his attorney Rosemary Carroll and asked for her to draw up divorce papers two days prior to this event.

As a matter of fact, her story changed a few times about the time of morning she found Kurt unresponsive. Was it 4:30 am or 5:30 am? (Love awoke the next morning at about 5:30, Cobain was lying on the floor near the bed in a coma. Between 6:00-6:30 A.M., The Excelsior front desk employees receive a frantic call from Love summoning an ambulance for an unconscious Kurt.) Courtney stated they had both went to bed, he wanted to make love but she was too tired, and telling Kurt no made Kurt upset, so he got up, and took a large amount of pills and alcohol after she had went back to sleep. Then she woke, and found him unresponsive. (Time of finding him is sketchy) she also had a full face of make up freshly applied- as seen from a photo taken when she was in the back of the ambulance. Lipstick looking every bit of just applied. (View photo of Love with fresh make-up at 6:30a.m after apparently trying to revive her husband. In 1994, the paparazzi wasn’t hunting down the Cobain’s in Rome. Tom Grant has proved that Courtney Love made that phone call from her hotel room.)

we have Kurt taking Rohypnol (Flunitrazepam) which was Courtney’s prescription of pills, with alcohol. Rohypnol can’t be tasted, or smelled in a drink. There was also found to be a pediatric anesthesia (chlorylhydrate) in Kurt’s system.(reported, and released by the media in 1994) Courtney said he took 50-60 pills. That would mean Kurt had to unwrap each pill,(they are individually wrapped) thus clearly a suicide. YET the Doctor that treated Kurt, Dr Galletta said Kurt did NOT ingest that amount of pills, and he was familiar with suicide attempts, and the overdose was NOT a suicide attempt. He stated Kurt was not, and did not seem suicidal at all. What do we have? 1. Kurt gave Courtney a letter that said he wanted a divorce 2. Kurt ends up in a coma from ingesting Courtney’s Rophynol 3. Courtney doesn’t give a clear time she found him 4. Courtney has time to get her make up on after finding Kurt 5. Courtney lies about how many pills Kurt took 6. Courtney, and Kurt & friends say it was an accident. 7.Courtney tells the press after his April 94 death it was his first suicide attempt. 8.Courtney destroys the letter Kurt gave her in Rome. 9. Michael “Cali” DeWitt was present at the hotel in Rome Later Detective Tom Grant, and Dylan Carlson find more of Courtney’s Rohypnol between the mattresses at Kurt’s home in Seattle. Kurt had diazepam in his blood, along with heroine(at the time of his death April 1994) It would be interesting to know if there was Rohypnol in his system too. It wasn’t a suicide attempt. It was in my opinion attempted murder. ———-making it appear as a suicide by overdose if he died . It’s just happens that Kurt woke up a few days later. Perhaps – speculation on my part – but perhaps drugging/overdosing wasn’t going to be enough. Someone made sure the next month, April 1994, that he wouldn’t wake up. Rarely does anyone wake up from a lethal dose of heroin, and a gunshot would to the head. Next March 18th incident. see part 3

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voluntarydemise · 7 years

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The 100 S3 Hiatus Diary

Once again, let me present to you a chronicle of our fandom’s most glorious hiatus moments. In truest hyperbole fashion we did not scale back after last year’s already impressive BS recordings. Here’s all the drama we managed to fit into the 257 days between the Season 3 finale on May 19, 2016 and the Season 4 premiere on February 1, 2017:

FYI: Entries are mostly focused on the Twitter fandom unless otherwise noted. Also beware, this diary deliberately generalises from the loud few to the many.

Day 2: Emma Caulfield of EW writes a *love letter* bashing Bellamy into a verb and adjective. Half of the fandom cackles, other half is ready to “bellamy” her.

Day 3: Ongoing belittling of Jasper’s PTSD in tandem with outrage from same people that show didn’t depict enough PTSD victims.

Day 6: #GiveBellamyBlakeABoyfriend circulates and is amusingly shared by lovers and haters.

Day 7: Kass Morgan is confronted with fandom members defacing and even burning her books. Because we are classy.

Day 10: Tumblr heats up when Johnny Depp beating Amber Heard gets compared to how Bellamy treats Clarke. Because bisexuality. Oh yes.

Day 11: Devon zings Harry Styles - and popstars in general - for trying to act. Somewhere Shawn Mendes cries a tear.

Day 12: The Fandom-is-Broken article hits. Outrage everywhere, while our fandom is like “yup, sounds about right”.

Day 15: Bob at Phoenix con says Bellamy wouldn’t have sided with Pike had Clarke returned earlier. Somehow he gets hate for that. Still unclear why. Most likely for no reason at all.

Day 16: More Phoenix con: Bob utters word “YET”, causes avalanche. Emma Caulfield tweets her and Bob’s are besties now. Fandom responds in typical forgiving ways.

Day 18: Tumblr has Brollexa gaining traction among BCers, the polyamorous turn it into Clexamy. Not appreciated by the CL fandom. Devon tweet-deletes, shits on cast members for making money off cons instead of donating to charity.

Day 21: Eliza and Bob get nominated for Teenchoice TV Chemistry. Disgust in CL fandom as entertaining as surprise in BC fandom.

Day 23: Fan at Oz Comic Con asks Eliza about Chemistry nomination and gets booed. Bob speaks slloooowwwhhhuuurr to the iddiiiooootttss on twitter. Most likely entirely unrelated.

Day 24: Eliza gets called fake/lost/drunk by BC fandom for voicing opinions about Bellarke. Beware of having opinions about ships.

Day 25: Bob replies to hate tweet. Backfires into him getting criticised for passive aggressively focusing on negativity only.

Day 26: First hiatus hack! Eliza’s instagram. Leads to Alycia unfollowing her. Fandom entertained for a while. Plus the gem of someone comparing Lexa’s death to the Orlando shooting.

Day 28: Alycia cancels Brazil con. In a roundabout way it’s Bob’s fault.

Day 31: On the shipping front Bob & Shampoo compete against Lexa & Bullet. Because why not.

Day 33: Somehow BC fandom hits jackpot by criticising both Adina and Mike on same day. For not being pro-BC enough. Adina! Mike!

Day 35: Layne Morgan attacks Ben Batemen for elevating himself to lgbt+ spokesperson. Fanbase first stunned, then divided.

Day 37: Second hiatus hack! Layne’s phone. Apparently private numbers get leaked, some idiots message Jason’s wife.

Day 41: Third hiatus hack! (@)emiliascara hacks into Marcus Catsaras’ (Alycia’s boyfriend) icloud, finds footage of him cheating. Catsaras deletes his twitter/fb accounts. Because hell has no fury like a riled-up CL fandom.

Day 42: Lindsey jumps in to fight hackers, (@)morleydebnam jokes about hacking Lindsey.

Day 44: Hacker exposed as guy from Toronto (Michael Brand/Bahramian).

Day 46: CL fandom overruns and impressively wins 9 of 11 E!Online polls. Still peeved over other fandoms bonding and voting against them.

Day 48: Jarod speaks up after Alton Sterling shooting. Ends with him getting attacked over *representation* issues.

Day 52: Eliza vs Alycia in Radiotimes quarter finals. Which fosters minor drama.

Day 56: Layne officially disinvited from clexacon.

Day 57: Some panelists boycott clexacon after Layne’s exit. Meanwhile the gullible have a clickbait-freakout over O killing Bellamy.

Day 58: Ben Bateman steps back from clexacon allies panel. (@)riserellamy makes it their mission to get all Arryn-haters blocked by Bob.

Day 59: Eliza talks freely and excessively about Lexa and Clexa at Brazil Con. BC fandom really wishes she wouldn’t.

Day 60: From the fanfic policing front: Author gets such harsh attacks for writing Lexamy they pull the fic.

Day 61: S3 DVD is out! Deleted scenes reheat old rage. While Ricky retweets shade about him not being in the bloopers.

Day 62: #OlicityMafiaExposedClexaParty happens. CL fandom first fandom ever to cheat in a poll.

Day 64: She said “ship”.

Day 65: Whole fandom aflame over the shit/ship debacle. Shit memes everywhere. Aaron doesn’t give a SHIT. Eliza probably avoids her mentions. Tumblr births Bellarke Drags. The best of days.

Day 66: clexasources promotes WB survey asking people to criticise show. Eliza shall be saved by cancellation.

Day 67: ELSchaaf claims Eliza speaks condescendingly of Bellarke because she’s threatened by Bob’s popularity. Fandom appalled. In conjunction CLs figure out ELSchaaf is involved with Unity Days.

Day 68: ELSchaaf on tumblr rampage, invites haters to call her names at con in person. Unity Days reacts swiftly and removes ELSchaaf.

Day 70: Bellarke Shit necklace sparks controversy.

Day 73: Wizard Con: Marie says Clarke has *nappy* hair which Eliza laughs at. Racism outrage in some fandom corners.

Day 75: Jason’s SDCC talk about bi-Clarke getting “with everyone” resurfaces. Not the most well received. clexasources deactivates after Bob+Eliza photo post leads to attacks by followers.

Day 78: Supposed insider troll Jason Blue stirs up rumour drama of Octavia dying.

Day 82: Bellarke fanart repurposed as Braven fanart. Bob-birthday charity criticised for being organised by a BC shipper.

Day 84: Pedowitz stands behind show at TCAs, does neither criticise nor cancel it on the spot, as some had hoped.

Day 103: Fanfic policing, part 2: Bellamy goes down on Clarke in the commander’s throne. People - ignorant of the concept of *fanfiction* - are mad.

Day 106: Eliza posts candid pic with guy-boy-friend. Apparently this makes her a lesser lgbt+ ally.

Day 111: Fanfic’s blowjobgate! Briller&Harper fic on kinkmemes ignites long and nasty Bellarke fanfic community wars. Who gets to and with whom and with how many is not the author’s choice alone.

Day 125: Tumblr aflame over Bellamy hating Aurora Blake, with usual shades of misogyny and racism.

Day 130: HYPE article about ADC at Copenhagen Con calls out fans for slightly inappropriate fan behavior. More inappropriate fan behavior in reaction leads to article edits.

Day 132: Kim retweets Fa Panini’s cute Becho fanart. BC fandom takes that as confirmation of things to come. Mild panic.

Day 135: A clearly mangled and misrepresented SDCC comment about Clarke and love interest in S4 causes freakout. Because fandom will forever step into all clickbait traps willingly.

Day 144: The usual bi-monthly kerfuffle about Clarke being forgotten as bi-rep in article.

Day 145: Layne Morgan sick of TV bi girls ending up with men. Not that stats have discredited this stereotype at all.

Day 155: Supposed insider troll Jason Blue claims insider cancellation knowledge. Insider arguments quickly debunked.

Day 159: Photoshopped Variety tweet circulates, claiming show cancellation. Mo Ryan refutes it.

Day 165: Lindsey stumbles into sexypilgrim drama. Apologises later for wishing people would get involved in causes beyond online outrage.

Day 166: Press day! Drama day! Fandom-uneducated Nadia voices “Luna is stronger than Lexa”. She may forever feel the consequences.

Day 167: Nadia tweets “Fiction”, deletes account. #NadiaDeactivatedParty follows. Eliza and later Arryn claim account is fake. Fandom thinks Eliza would rather lie than defend Nadia and her anti-Lexa statement.

Day 170: Meanwhile in the fanfic warzone: “Bellamy rapes Lexa” gets countered with “Lexa castrates Bellamy”.

Day 190: Bob reaches annual patience-for-twitter threshold, carries out annual twitter deactivation. States he was made to join. Fandom: lol, ok, see you in a bit.

Day 199: Bellarke and Clexa both in same Hottest-Ships-of-the-Year list. But fandom can’t share nice things.

Day 201: Guess who’s back on twitter, guys?

Day 216: BC-shipping jewellery artist called out for making money off Clexa art. Not allowed in the age of receipts.

Day 219: In spirit of Christmas, Aaron issues Lexa apology. Fandom - less spirited - counters it’s 9 months too late, and never enough.

Day 221: Katie affirms in slightly too bitter way that show is more than just Clexa. Bad move, girl.

Day 222: (@)bellamysbriller - whom Katie retweeted the day before - is exposed for catfishing and bullying.

Day 228: More jewellery controversies, as jewellery donations to charities can only come from people who’ve never made controversial statements.

Day 233: clexaspoilers surfaces, claims access to screeners, reveals Clexa parts. Fandom calls it baiting to make them watch, even though account claims now they DON’T have to watch.

Day 238: BC fandom gets high on SHE HAS BELLAMY, and actually manages to trend for once. Stunning friends and foes alike.

Day 241: Unity Days report of Lindsey supposedly saying Bellarke is boring. Lindsey gets attacked and goes on twitter detox. BC fandom to blame.

Day 243: Fourth hiatus hack! Ricky’s phone. Beware of Ricky nudes.

Day 245: Alycia’s management removes The 100 from “known for” section on IMDB. BCers shocked, CLs shrug.

Day 248: BCers think 600 cookies might be helpful for show renewal. Laughs and eyerolls all around.

Day 249: S4 poster arrives. Cast, writers and fans partake in a who’s-who guessing game with silhouettes. Body shaming leads to #titsoutforeliza, someone leaks S4 callsheets and Funko whitewashes Raven and Bellamy. A busy day.

Day 252: CLs set up White House petition to get Jason fired. A single signature last we checked.

Day 257: Final hiatus day: (@)the100leaked pops up to generously leak part of the Season 4 finale script and cause mass hysteria. Tadaaaaa!

And that’s it! See you all next hiatus! Just kidding. I accept more entries, if you can link me to the evidence.

#The 100 #fandom drama #Fandom Diary #we love to drama

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canaryatlaw · 6 years

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ok. so today was pretty chill. I woke up at like 9:30 I think, got dressed and walked to Jess’ place because we had some (cosplay) shopping to do. got there and we went to the salvation army’s smaller store, she really only needed a tie and I didn’t need anything pressing so we found that fairly easily. We were discussing cosplays for WW Chicago because I realized/remembered that Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum are gonna be there as well and I’m obviously dying to meet them. and considering guest schedules and everything we’re switching plans up a little bit. currently Matt Ryan is listed as only being there Saturday and Sunday, so we’re gonna do the one for the photo op on Sunday (you’ll die laughing when you see it, I promise) and then Sunday I can do my thrown together Lois Lane cosplay which is literally just going to be a blazer, shirt, and skirt out of my closet lol being that I own a ton of business clothes already, and of course with a few added touches to make it more obvious. And this would mean I can save 3x10 Sara for Portland in a few weeks where Caity is actually going to be present so that works even better. I’m still trying to figure out if/what I might cosplay for HVFF NJ the day before Portland, it’s gonna be a crazy weekend and I’m not gonna have a whole lot of space to pack things, so we’ll see how it turns out. So yeah, got those are figured out, then went to Target to grab a few things, I only needed eggs and some heavy cream randomly enough lol, then we went to taco bell for food because we hadn’t really eaten yet so that was enjoyable. Afterwards we went back to Jess’ place so she could park her car by her apartment and grab her laptop, then we walked to my apartment from there. We had been discussing how it looks like they’re auditioning a new love interest for Alex on Supergirl which we’d be very interested in, but Jess never watched season 3, so we decided we’d start watching it today, and ended up making it through the mid-season finale episode. We skipped a lot of the episode on Mars because it was just kind of unnecessary and not particularly interesting, but we watched the rest of all the other ones. Again, Midvale is easily the best episode in the series, which is honestly like really sad because it has like none of the actual main actors in it besides short clips at the beginning and end. I really have to give it up to the actresses that portrayed young Kara and young Alex, not only were they the spitting image of their older counterpart, but they did such a good job bringing the emotion and really becoming the heart of the episode. For the rest of the season, well, Ruby and Sam are really the highlights, J’onn and his father are pretty good too but the main plot generally kinda sucks, not that that’s a surprise at this point. Apparently ubereats was running a promotion for free delivery from 2-5 pm so sometime after 4 we thought we’d take advantage of that, ended up getting food from a place called the golden corral because they do all day breakfast and I really wanted a waffle. And not gonna lie, now that I know I can order a waffle from my phone and have it delivered to me in under an hour is like, possibly too much power that I should have lol. So we ate our food and continued to watch Supergirl, then when we finished the mid-season finale episode we went to go get ice cream. We’re planning on going to the renaissance fair tomorrow which I’ve never been too, so that should be fun, we were trying to plan costumes and such so hopefully those will turn out well. Jess went home after that, I returned to my apartment and watched more of “Zumbo’s Just Desserts” which is like, the perfect level of absurdity to balance out my game of thrones nights and alternating between the two. I’m almost at the end of it though, the only I finished with tonight only had 3 contestants left, so just two more episodes. I was so pleased though because in one of the episodes I watched tonight there was this douche who was the last guy remaining in the competition and he was soooooo full of himself and was like, insulting his competitors to the camera and saying lots of just super shitty things like “I know I’m gonna win because I’m better than her” and shit like that so I was SO happy when it all blew up in his face and he got send home, BUH-BYE NOW. so I enjoyed that. And yeah, I finished that up for the night and then started getting ready for bed. NICKZANO (the cat) is doing quite well for herself, she seems very interested in sinks and can often be found sitting in them for reasons I can’t seem to figure out, but she’s still being very friendly and cuddly and just sweet in general so I have no complaints. And yeah, that’s about it for today. My eyes would like to be closed now, so I think I am going to do so now. Goodnight babes. Happy weekend.

#daily journal #August 2018 #Jess tag

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theprattleronline-blog · 7 years

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You Hate Taylor Swift, and That’s Okay

Sage Kelley

You Hate Taylor Swift, and That’s Okay

I heard Taylor Swift’s new song the other day “Look What You Made Me Do”. The production was sparse and clean, keeping a dark sound throughout. The lyrics followed, brisk, straightforward, and pseudo-edgy, the “Look at how dark I’ve become” facade. It’s not necessarily catchy, and the vocals become a bit awkward in timing. The chorus sounds too similar to pop of the early 90’s, and the overall focus seems a bit too early-two-thousands Hot Topic. Then, the bomb hits. Or what Swift would like to consider said bomb.

Taylor Swift answers a call. “I’m sorry. The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, cause she’s dead.”

Dramatic drop.

I gasped, then followed with laughter. Gut busting laughter. Chuckles. “This can’t be serious?” I thought.

Apparently the internet felt the same. Despite having over 245 million views on Youtube and being number one on Billboard’s Top 100, people don’t seem to be too happy about Swift’s new “gritty” single. There are various posts on social media mocking the intensity, claiming her sell-out status, and calling her a snake.

I'll be honest, I don’t usually keep an eye (or ear) on Swift. I get the situation. A naive country singer sells out and becomes a pop-star. She occasionally speaks out for social issues. She dates a plethora of famous men. Seems fairly cookie cutter to me. But, after a few minutes of internet crowdsourcing, I realized: people absolutely hate Taylor Swift. Articles upon articles, posts upon posts, people tearing down Swift for various reasons. This peaked my interest. How could a pop-star be so polarizing? How could some innocent blonde from Pennsylvania have record breaking singles and tours, yet be so collectively hated? I journeyed down the rabbit hole that is the Taylor Swift Chronicles and learned, it’s totally okay to hate Taylor Swift. In fact, I might have a bit of disdain towards her now as well.

Swift’s music is a bit of a toss up. I understand that some see her as a sellout. She came onto the country music scene with hits like “Teardrops On My Guitar” and sold herself as a little country girl, lost in the post-pubescent world of love. Then she switched up her style a bit, becoming more mainstream. She dropped the country twang and acoustic guitar for synth beats and electronic drums, eventually growing into a pop artist with her 2014 album 1989. The album sold 1,287,000 copies in a week. Taylor may have sold out by switching genres, but it paid off. Her music is catchy. It may all focus around the same idea of “innocent little me hurt by a boy” but she seems self aware in that aspect. It’s what sells, and I certainly can’t hate her for wanting money, to an extent. Pop is pop, and if done without the intent of being “Popular”, and more with the intent of using the genre as an artistic platform (Prince and Michael Jackson) then it can create for amazing music. But, if only done to earn radio play, it becomes monotonous and braindead. As her last few singles show, it seems as if she’s making music for the latter.

But wait, there’s more.

Taylor Swift’s new tour has created an issue with Ticketmaster. In order to get a better chance at tickets, you have to participate in “boost activities” including: buying merchandise, preordering the new album, promoting her on social media, and watching various videos. This is not a joke. Swift wants more money in order for fans to buy expensive tickets that will ultimately spike the overall price of leftover tickets. That is selling out. That is money hungry. Taylor’s net worth is 280 million as of August, 2017. The concept not only reeks of desperation, but seems like a bit of a “screw you” to dedicated fans. Okay, so she’s a sellout. A bad sellout. So why does everyone call her a snake?

Her most popular instance of being a snake (i.e. being two-faced and deceptive in order to maintain her image) was her feud with Kim Kardashian-West and Kanye West last year. Now, Taylor was a victim when Kanye interrupted her VMA award in 2009. She was gracious when she accepted Kanye’s apology for the interruption and awarded him with the MTV Video Vanguard Award in 2015. Then Kanye dropped the line “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex. Why? I made that bitch famous” on his cleverly named track “Famous.” Apparently, Taylor stated that she was fine with the lyric and thought it was humorous. Kim Kardashian-West went to Snapchat to post a video of Kanye talking to Taylor about the lyric. In the video, after Kanye reads her the line, Taylor says “It’s like a compliment,” and “I’m really glad that you had the respect to call and tell me about it. That’s really nice.” You can hear that it is her voice over the phone.

Here’s the snake part: Once the lyric stirred up controversy amongst Swift fans, Taylor did a complete turn-around, having her publicist state that Kanye did not ask for approval and she cautioned him on his song being seen as misogynistic. She then went to make a Grammy speech stating “There are going to be people along the way who will try to undercut your success or take credit for your accomplishments or your fame.” She completely backtracked on everything, and despite proof of her acceptance, lied about disliking the line.

Swift then released countless songs, “Look What You Made Me Do” included, that seem to be jabs toward Kanye. There are countless other stories of her being two-faced. Taylor Swift is willing to do whatever it takes to uphold her long-lost reputation as America’s Sweetheart. She went back and forth with her ideals in order to stay with the consensus opinion.

In 2015 Taylor Swift filed a lawsuit against DJ David Mueller for allegedly lifting her skirt. She went on a women’s rights kick, and eventually won the lawsuit and charged Mueller a single dollar. A symbolic dollar to show that woman shouldn’t be objectified and gaslit to feel as if sexual harassment was their fault. Awesome. I can’t say anything negative about the case, and it strikes a point in Swift’s “okay with me” category, but what followed became a bit unsettling.

At this point, with her fame and fanbase, Swift began using her popularity to share opinions on women’s rights. She can easily sway opinions, and was becoming a strong leader amongst a generation. Then the election happened. Donald Trump was, well, making blatant misogynistic statements. Swift became silent. Maybe she was working on her new album, diving deep into her artistic work. But it’s not hard to send a single tweet, or post a picture that displayed her opinion. Why didn’t Taylor continue her fight for women and take a stand? How many people would be informed and moved by her opinion? She has 85.5 million followers on Twitter. And in an equally severe, but more concentrated case, when Neo-nazis began using Swift in their propaganda, she stayed silent. She has still yet to make a statement on politics, and though she posted a photo of her at a voting booth, she never said who she voted for. Surely, can give her the benefit of the doubt, but being silent usually means negative things. As someone that had spoken so clearly about her opinions before, being silent can only mean that she was afraid. She had an extremely symbolic lawsuit against sexual harassment, but didn’t speak out about the notorious groper who was clearly en route to becoming the leader of the country? This warrants a few snake emojis.

After the Kanye lyric gained negative attention, she pulled back on her approval because it’ll make her seem misogynistic. Then, she disclosed her political views because, regardless of her stance, such would provoke negative attention. Now, wants fans to spend money, simply for a chance to get her concert tickets. And finally, she continues to make enemies with other stars in order to feed her “gritty” song concepts. People like drama; naturally they’ll listen to songs about drama.

Everything lines up to one conclusion: Taylor Swift is a sellout. She’s willing to change her views, denounce her friends, and rip-off her fans to maintain her image. She takes the moral high-ground until it alienates her fanbase, and with this, she doesn’t stand for anything with concrete footing. She changed her sound to become more pop-oriented. I can’t necessarily bash this idea, for most musicians usually do the same (I’m looking at you, Maroon 5). If you’re not making enough money in your genre, switch. This isn’t uncommon in the music world, and will continue to happen after Swift. Artists will do whatever it takes to stay relevant. Some, like Kanye, use negative publicity as a means of becoming infamous. Taylor does the opposite. The victim, even in her music. She has and always will be the “wronged”. It’s all an act. It’s all to get people talking. No one needs to spend time reading countless articles about a pop singer. I’m not very happy that I just did so for hours.

You can hate Taylor Swift’s desperation for attention and money, that’s fine. Or you can ignore these things and just like her music, that’s also fine. It’s all pretty catchy anyway. But if there’s one thing I will say, her new music is terrible, and regardless of her persona, she’s still a musician, and that’s all that matters.

Illustration by Hua Chen

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trendingnewsb · 7 years

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The Age of ‘Not Helping’

Somewhere, someone first wrote Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt. We are pretty sure it wasnt Mark Twain. It may have been Abraham Lincoln. It may have been somebody misremembering a biblical proverb, or the author of a book of rhymes for children. A Minnesota newspaper attributed it to Empeco. Wizard of Oz author L. Frank Baum may have come up with it. Whoever it was, they had a point.

2016 was an exciting time for the global far right and their stateside cheerleaders. Voters in the UK opted to separate from the European Union, which some feared would perilously weaken the alliance. Marine Le Pen, a French nationalist, was mounting a serious play for her countrys presidency. In Germany, in the Netherlands, in Hungary, and in Austria, far right seemed poised to break into the mainstream.

Fast forward six months into 2017, and that storyline seems to have reached its raveled end. Le Pen was defeated by a 39-year-old ingenue. Germanys Angela Merkels post looks safer for Germany than it did at the turn of the year. And in Great Britain, conservative Prime Minister Theresa May, human cautionary tale, called a snap election in an attempt to strengthen her power as the country heads into Brexit talks. This week, that effort backfired. May is now facing a hung parliament.

Many factors have contributed to this swing to the left. One of those reasons is Donald Trumps unpopularity, and his seeming inability, for even a second, to stop reminding people how much they hate him.

For an average person, the consequences of foolish speech only serve to embarrass the fool, or the fools girlfriend. But for politically active public figures, from celebrities who dabble all the way up to the Oval Office, foolish speech is more damaging. It gives ones opponents ammunition and turns off people who could have become allies.

Public figures have always been tripping over their own proverbial dicks, but, thanks to social media and an ethos that values the act of speaking up over the contents of speech, broadcasting ones foolishness has never been more seductive. Nor has it been easier for other people to notice that idiocy, expand its reach, and demand apologies from the poor fools tasked with PR cleanup.

Lena Dunham started her career as a shining star of young filmmaking talent, but recently has made more headlines for embodying a caricature of culturally walled-off safe space millennial liberalism. The most recent headache shes caused her ideological brethren occurred in December, when she told listeners to her podcast that she hadnt had an abortion, but wished she would have. She then apologized on Instagram by saying that she was merely playing a character. During the presidential campaign, she backed Hillary Clinton and vowed to move to Canada if Trump was elected, and then did not move to Canada. Last week, she posted a photo of herself wearing a body-length blaze orange sleeping bag, which somehow is supposed to fight gun violence, or something. If she didnt already exist, conservatives would invent her.

When Kathy Griffin posted a photo of herself hoisting a fake severed Donald Trump head the other week, all she accomplished was aiding producers at Fox & Friends struggling to find news stories to chase that did not have to do with Trumps ineptitude. She gave a party without ideas a break from weaving their own ropes. Her subsequent apology and press conference about bullying Streisand Effect-ed her into the right wing news cycle and Donald Trump Jrs conspiratory-nuts Twitter timeline. Not helping.

Bill Maher, in his long career, has found himself creating grief for his supposed ideological brethren, recently saying the N-word in conversation with Senator Ben Sasse. Sean Penn annoys the piss out of some on the left. So does Susan Sarandon. Actor Matt McGorrys over-the-top feminist dude wokeness is frequent fodder for ridicule among many all-female text circles. Not Helping.

Steve Harvey is a classic Not Helper. Sarah Palin has a similar opportunism streak, often inserting herself into discussions to add nothing but another thing to make those shes trying to help look bad. Maxine Waters, as beloved as shes become by some, is viewed by others as a corrupt grandstanding opportunist, tossing irresponsible accusations before enough evidence exists to back them up. Speaking of Maxine Waters: Bill OReilly. Not helping. Ann Coulter and Piers Morgan, while quick to speak up, often seem to do so without first considering whether theyre doing good or making a mess for somebody else to clean up.

In other cases, whether or not speaking up is helping or not isnt as clear.

Hillary Clinton stepped back from public life after her electoral defeat last fall. But now shes back, and shes exactly the same as ever. Sure, some superficial elements have changed– her purple pantsuit of defeat hasnt been brought out of retirement yet–her message is the one shes been delivering for her entire career in the public eye. Never let anybody silence your voice, she told graduates of Medgar Evers College in New York City this week.

Clintons months-long return to the limelight hasnt been smooth, nor has it always been welcome. Why cant the Clintons just go away? lamented the New York Post back in April. Weeks later, New York Daily News columnist Gersh Kuntzman urged Hillary Clinton to shut the f— up and go away! Two weeks later, Boston Globe columnist Adriana Cohen asked How can we move on together if Hillary Clinton wont go away? And on Friday, Vanity Fair joined the dogpile, running a story headlined Can Hillary Clinton please go quietly into the night?

If Hillary Clinton delivers a speech alone in a forest and theres no op-ed columnists around to tell her to fuck off, is she still hurting America?

Two weeks ago, Clinton delivered the commencement address at her alma mater Wellesley College. During that speech, she sharply criticized President Trump. The Republican National Committee tried to raise funds off Clintons speech immediately. After months of bumbling, gridlock, and failure, they finally had something pure that would fire up their supporters that didnt involve them highlighting their own inability to govern. On one hand, telling a woman to shut up for no reason sounds pretty sexist. On the other, Hillary Clinton declaring that she will not sit down or shut up was the best thing that happened to Republicans that week.

At the same time Clinton was urging graduates in New York City to keep speaking up, in Washington, DC, former FBI director James Comey was speaking under oath before a Senate committee. The committee was interested in figuring out whether President Donald Trump had attempted to obstruct an FBI investigation into the ties between various agents of the Trump campaign and Russian efforts to influence the American election. Trump, it seemed, couldnt resist speaking up about Michael Flynn, about wanting certain behaviors out of an FBI director. According to Comeys testimony, each time the president spoke up to Comey about FBI business, he just made things worse.

Say what you will about Donald Trump, the man has never, not once in his 70-year-life, shut the fuck up. A recording of him bragging about sexually assaulting women in an apparent attempt to convince Billy Bush that he was a cool and good guy incinerated the career of Bush and nearly tanked his campaign. There was that Obama-was-born-in-Kenya nonsense. Then-candidate Trump congratulated himself after 49 people were murdered in a terrorist attack in Orlando a year ago. He crowed about the UKs decision to pull out of the EU, last August tweeting with characteristic bombast that They will soon be calling me MR. BREXIT! After London was attacked by terrorists last weekend, President Mr. Brexit attacked Londons mayor and called for a travel ban on Twitter.

But a person can only talk so much shit before stepping in it, and Not Helper-In-Chief Trumps inability to shut up is a problem for people who get too close to him.

The Presidents twitter habit has cost him credibility, and his aides their dignity as they scramble to control a White House message thats about as streamlined as an untethered firehose on full blast. It may have forever ruined his childrens ability to function as business leaders; its tarnished his daughters image so much that she or somebody close to her has taken to planting positive stories about her in supermarket tabloids owned by Trump family allies.

Every day presents a new opportunity for Donald Trump to shut up. And every day, Donald Trump lets that opportunity pass him buy, reminding people the world over that they do not like him. To paraphrase dead #MAGA-land darling Pepe the Frog, tweeting feels good, man. But its not helping Trumps cause beyond Trumps own desire to express himself. His ego is screwing things up for people who should be his allies. Mr. Brexit indeed.

If Hillary Clinton needs to go quietly into the night to best serve her cause, Donald Trump needs to have his phone chucked into the Lincoln Memorials snail-infested reflecting pool, and be kept at least a golf course-length away from the nearest microphone.

Yesterday, during a press conference alongside Romanian President Klaus Iohannis, Trump again displayed his famous restraint, barking out that James Comey had lied during his Senate testimony and that hed testify to that effect under oath.

Somewhere, the author of that quote about proving ones foolishness by speaking up rolled over in his grave.