her-chest

1. He is not running against Hillary Clinton

“I’m not running against Hillary Clinton,” he said. “She’s a candidate, I’m a candidate, and I suspect that there will be other candidates. The people in this country will make their choice.” His socialist platform is “one that resonates” with the American people, and he believes he can effectively appeal to them no matter who his opponent is, or how large her war chest is. But, as he’s said, he’s engaged in “a real struggle against the billionaire class.”

2. Yes, we did say “socialist”

Twice now, actually, because not only is Senator Sanders not afraid of the word, he openly embraces it. Earlier this month, he freely admitted that he wanted to make America “more Scandinavian” — by which he meant, a democratic country with a socialist backbone when it comes to healthcare, education, and retirement. “If you see the transfer of 99 percent of the wealth to the top one-tenth of the one percent,” he’s said, “you’ve got to transfer that back.”

3. President Sanders would overturn Citizens United

“The major issue of our time is whether the United States of America retains its democratic foundation or whether we devolve into an oligarchic form of society where a handful of billionaires are able to control our political process by spending hundreds of millions of dollars to elect candidates who represent their interests,” he said last September. The best way to do that, he said, is to overturn Citizens United, because “freedom of speech does not mean the freedom to buy the United States government.”

4. Senator Sanders is about as anti-corporate a candidate you can imagine this side of Noam Chomsky

He has proposed what would, in essence, be a “Wall Street sales tax,” and his opposition to the Trans-Pacific Partnership is based on the fact that only “[m]ultinational corporations that have outsourced millions of good-paying American jobs to China, Mexico, Vietnam, India and other low-wage countries think this is a great deal.” Whereas “every union in this country…opposes this agreement that will wipe out jobs and depress wages.”

5. And about those unions…

Senator Sanders’ top five campaign contributors since 2009 are all unions, and 69 percent of the money he receives from political action committees comes from union PACs. “I’m not going to use a super PAC,” he’s said, and the facts bear him out. He has one, but it hasn’t raised any money for his presidential bid to date.

6. He believes public education — all of it — should be free

From elementary to middle, through high school and into community college or a university, Sanders believes that education should cost the student nothing. It’s not merely a personal investment, he believes, it’s a public good — and as such should be funded by the public. “These are not utopian ideas,” he’s said. “They are not radical ideas. They are fairly commonsensical ideas that can happen when you have a government that is directed by the people themselves and not by wealthy powerful corporate interests.”

Read the full article

I am doing an art piece for a client who I have been video chatting with for several years.

Client: I am looking to get a picture of this specific character in a particular pose.

Me: Ok, the character looks easy enough. What pose did you have in mind?

Client: Laying down. The view is from the back but you need to be able to see her face and chest at the same time.

Me: So like…. bent backwards or something?

Client: No, like she is on her stomach and the camera is behind her, but you can see her face and chest at the same time as her back.

Me: Tell you what. You still have that full length mirror in your room? 

Client: Yeah, why?

Me: You go to it, assume the pose you are looking to get, find a way to get it to work without shattering your spine, and then get back to me on how I need to draw it, ok?

A bit later.

Client: Yeah ok I get it now. Just do what you think works.

Me: Thank you. I’ll get back to you in an hour with the rough sketch.

anonymous asked:

Pipabeth, hogwarts AU

Everything’s a blur after Piper catches the snitch. 

She’s vaguely aware of Connor Stoll giving out the final scores, of the Ravenclaws screaming from the stands, of the small cold ball in her hand, of the dull throb in her stomach from that stray bludger earlier in the game. 

She touches down with her team and they swarm her, lifting her up and parading her from the pitch, all the while chanting ‘Piper! Piper! Piper!’

The next thing she knows she’s in the common room, the walls decked out in blues and bronzes and banners. When was the last time Ravenclaw had won the house quidditch cup? Piper doesn’t know. Butterbeer is shoved into her hands along with an assortment of snacks she certainly can’t carry. She’s still holding the snitch. The rush in her chest during her game-ending dive has not left her. She’s still in her quidditch robes, her hair as wild as her housemates.

She’s spots Annabeth leaning against a wall and the world comes back into focus so fast Piper’s sure she has whiplash. She tosses the snitch into the crowd, who fight over it like the bouquet at a muggle wedding, and makes her way over, trying to keep her features as nonchalant as possible. If her cheeks are red, she’d blame it on the game. 

“Piper,” Annabeth says. Her arms are crossed. She isn’t wearing her quidditch robes. It’s like she was never in the game, scoring point after point after point. 

“Not ‘McLean’?” Piper says. She’ll blame her breathlessness on the game too. She crowds in closer than is really appropriate. She’ll blame the ruckus of the common room if need be. There was always an excuse, if one was quick enough to think of it. Annabeth taught her that. “Head still in the clouds?”

Annabeth smiles and Piper’s sucks in a breath. “You were great out there,” she says, pulling Piper in closer. There’s a certain level of pride in her voice as she says it. Piper can’t decide if it’s for her. “You were amazing to watch.”

Piper’s hands flutter against Annabeth’s shoulders. She can smell the cold wind of the game on Annabeth, clinging to her finer than any perfume. “What ever happened to keeping your eyes on the task at hand, Captain?”

“Unlike some people, I can multitask,” Annabeth replies, moving in for a light kiss.

jayce-piltover asked:

Jayce wasn't usually the biggest fan of clubs. Though he had the appearance of someone who would frequently go (tall, muscular, well-dressed) he rarely went. This particular night, his friends had dragged him along as a sort of fifth wheel. They both had girlfriends, and he now couldn't even find any of them. "Great," he muttered to himself with a sigh. "Oh well, might as well enjoy myself." With that, he took to the dance floor, simply moving however his body reacted to the music.

Dancing had always been one of her favourite pastimes. The music so loud she felt it in her chest, the heat of bodies closely packed, the dim light–it all appealed to her.

As it did to quite a few other far, who twirled their way through the mess of people, messing and groping them, glamoured and unseen.

Yes, it was a little skimpy, but for something so it was quite her style. A black dress, tight on top and loose everywhere else, short and torn in all the right places. And of course, she wasn’t wearing shoes.

The skirt danced with her, flaring and never settling with eternal motion.

Smother

I become. I fall apart in a haze
of moss; that smudging, verdant
light. If a tree falls, I am

holy. If the axeman grinds
his flint, I pull a dozen wound-wet
rabbits from the slick; my slow

rhodopsin; belly roadkill only
softer, only warm. Inverted teat.
This bitumen laid down for me

like sap. Marsupial. Some
barren causeway, breaching swamp
at last, slow emulsion, breathing

smoke, the pretty solvent of it
all. When nurse-milk matts
the burrow of an asphalt

rabbit’s chest, her darlings
drown before they learn
of hunger’s crawl.

SQ - 108 Word Ficlet #2

It has been 17 days since Emma disappeared.

No one knows Regina has it, or even that it is missing. There was so much chaos that night in the street when everyone left no one saw it just sitting there draped over a chair.

The jacket was worn in around Emma’s frame and had long lost its traditional smell. Now it was a special blend of the blonde woman’s fragrance mixed with the harsh smell of leather.

Regina gripped the red jacket tightly, bringing it to her chest. She breathed deeply and began to tremble.

“I miss you,” Regina whispered into the material and tears began to fall.

doctorfitzy asked:

Fitzsimmons royalty au

“I just don’t understand how ‘Science Princess’ became a term of endearment. It doesn’t sound all that sexy,” Jemma pointed out, her head against his chest. 

“I was just trying to be creative.” Fitz’ voice was defensive. 

Jemma just shook her head and continued, “It’s too cutesy. Makes me sound like a small child.”

“Fine. What do you want me to call you then?”

“Oh you know,” she said coyly, lifting her head to face him. 

He smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her cheek. “Doctor.” Another kiss, this time one her nose. “Doctor,” his lips on her other cheek, “Jemma,” traveling to her chin, “Simmons.” He had finally settled on her lips. 

“Good,” she said. And she kissed him back. 

anonymous asked:

Congrats! And CS + 29, if you want. I really love your writing, even if the angst is very painful. ily <3

Thank you! Ily too anon <3

So this is a sequel to 44. If you die, I’ll kill you

29. I thought you were dead

Whale sighed heavily and looking at Emma’s shocked and tear stained face came beside her. He patted her shoulder soothingly as he said,

“Time of death 8:03 p.m”

Emma froze, her hands gripping the side of his hospital bed as the nurses started to dispatch his medical equipment.

A sharp pain sliced through Emma’s heart and she felt her entire body shiver. She was shaking and her chest was physically hurting as Whale stood beside her, hugging her from the side and running his hand soothingly over his friend’s shoulder.

Emma wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything, but the only thing she could do was stare at the lifeless body of the devilishly handsome Killian Jones.

I can’t lose you too. Her worst fear came true – he left her just like everyone else did. But it had never hurt this much; she had never felt so hopeless and devastated beyond repair. As if she could never move on.

He was gone.

No more smirks, no more words that touched her heart, no more kisses that scorched heat throughout her body, no more innuendoes, no more shy smiles, nothing. Just absolutely nothing.

I never told him I loved him, not once.

Well, she eventually had. But somehow it didn’t feel enough now – she wanted everything with him. Rings on their fingers, his last name joining hers, a house by the docks, maybe little blond hair and blue eyed children, and finally them both dying when their old and gray – still bickering about his age and flying monkeys. Everything.

But now all she got was nothing.

Suddenly something in Emma’s head clicked.

If one of you cast the curse, how are you both here?

Emma separated from Whale and placed her hand on her chest, wishing Regina was here to do this. With a quick this better work, Emma pushed her hand where her heart is supposed to be. Once she felt it, she held it and pulled her hand out, biting her lip to not scream in pain.

“What the hell are you doing?” Whale asked her, horrified.

Honestly, Emma didn’t even know what the hell she was doing and why she wasn’t scared or have any doubt about this. All she knew was that this had worked for her parents and it better work for them.

Killian was her True Love, which had been apparent when he saved her from going dark and restored her title as the Savior from the Dark One. They had been kindred spirits since the moment they journeyed to that beanstalk, so surely they could be halves of one heart?

She grasped her bright red heart and squeezed it lightly, just enough to separate it. Once both halves were in her hands, she pushed one half into his chest, and the other back into hers.

She waited, her eyes widening in anticipation and hope but nothing happened. Killian still lay motionless on his bed.

Maybe we aren’t as powerful as Snow White and Prince Charming.

She lowered her face till it was inches apart from his, “I love you Killian” she whispered before she kissed him. A breeze of air and a white light surrounded them, pushing Whale and the nurses backward as the lights flickered in the room and the ground shook slightly for a moment. Apparently the half heart procedure needed to be activated with True Love’s Kiss.

“Ah, love, I don’t think that quite worked. Shall we try again?” his voice came, a smirk forming on his face, but his eyes were crinkling with happiness.

Emma burst into tears as she let her head fall to his chest. He tangled his hand in her hair, whispering assurances in her ears. Once the tears stopped flowing she turned her face, her chin still resting on his chest.

I thought you were dead” Emma whimpered, her lower lip trembling from the few moment of utmost despair she went through.

“How many times do I have to tell you, love, I’m a survivor” Killian said, smiling at her as he brushed her tears away and bringing her lips up to kiss her again.

Not only were their souls made of the same galactic material, but now they truly were two bodies and one heart.

Send me a number and pairing and I’ll write you a drabble!

Unforseen Conditions || Carlia, Carlos & Javier
  • Celia:*was not looking forward to having this conversation with her brothers, but it was necessary. She was gripping Carter's hand while they were sitting in the restaurant.* Babe, my brothers are not going to be happy about this, and I just know they are going to blame you for this. I am not going to let them attack you, because its not your fault. *She put her head in his chest* This has to happen, if they like it or not.

uchihainurhead asked:

There are 2 possibilities for me: 1st. Sakura being pregnabt during meeting. 2nd: Sakura gave birth just a while ago thats why her chest looks so big (like the Sasuke family portrait)

Oh, that is a possibility! She could have been in her new/post-baby body.

Either way, both theories don’t cross out the fact that Sasuke was there during Sakura’s pregnancy. So am I the only one hoping for a SasuSaku pregnancy scene wherein he kisses her pregnant stomach? ; u ;

saucytango asked:

Whiterose Wednesday~ Ruby injures her leg while on a mission, she dislikes that fact the she can't use her semblance while her leg is healing and is in a less than happy mood so Weiss tries different ways to cheer her up.

“It’s not faaaaair!” 

“Ruby, you’ll discover life isn’t fair, I’m afraid…”

The young leader was bedridden - not in her own top bunk, of course, as they couldn’t get her up there the way she was. She was on Weiss’ bed with her broken leg elevated on a pile of pillows, arms crossed over her chest as she pouted.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Nothing but a contradictory asshole. Good thing you enforce every stereotype about women being stupid and irrational creatures. The response to someone saying something is bad is not to spite them and spam it in turn. That's acting like a child.

Someone’s tsundere for crack pairings. If you keep sending me asks, I’ll keep writing fic. Like this one!


A final blow, and the art witch crumbled into nothingness. Homura remained on the ground, her legs shaking too hard for her to stand. Her chest was tight, every breath dearly bought. The world returned to normal around her - but it would never be normal again, would it?

“Hey, you all right?” A hand extended into her range of vision. The girl who’d saved her peered down at her, feral crimson eyes narrowed.

Homura forced herself to take a deep breath. “Yes,” she managed.

“Y'don’t sound it.” The redhead straightened up, hands on her hips. “Hm…” There was a flash, and she changed from her red costume into street clothes. No school uniform, just shorts and a zip-up hoodie. “All right, look. No point in savin’ yer ass if you just keel over and die walking home, so…” Before Homura quite realized what was happening, the other girl had crouched in front of her, her back to Homura. “Get on.”

“H-huh?” Homura clenched a fist over her heart and drew back.

“I said get on.” There was a bite to the girl’s voice now. “I ain’t got all day. I’m gonna carry you home.”

“A-all right.” It would be helpful, of course, but mainly Homura didn’t want to anger her savior. She wrapped her arms around the girl’s neck, and the girl stood, hooking her arms under Homura’s legs.

“That good?” Homura nodded against the girl’s back. “All right. That your bag?” She scooped it up. “Then let’s go.”

Homura gave the girl directions, and they started off in silence. After a few blocks, the girl spoke up. “Hey, do me a favor. Left jacket pocket, box of pocky. Think you can get me a piece?”

“I-I’ll try.” Homur fumbled one-handed for the pocket, then the box. She extracted a candy stick and held it out, the other hand clutching tighter to keep from falling.

“Aah.” The girl opened her mouth and, after a false try that poked the girl in the cheek, Homura stuck the pocky between her teeth. “Thanksh,” she said. “You want a piece, go ahead. I got extra.”

“Th-thank you, um…”

The girl seemed to get what she meant. “Kyouko. Yer welcome.”

“Thank you, Kyouko.” Homura paused a moment. “For everything, I mean.”

“Yeah, whatever, nerd. I mean, I was in the neighborhood and woulda killed that thing anyway.”

It hurt to be brushed off that way, but Homura noticed the tips of Kyouko’s ears had gone red. Homura smiled to herself and let her head rest against Kyouko’s shoulder. Maybe she’d made a friend. Maybe living in Mitakihara wouldn’t be so bad after all…

“You little slut..” Marcus pulled her up against his chest. His hand griping around her neck as his hips slammed in to her tight pussy. She was always the prefect victim to take out his aggression on. She loved it hard and dirty, it didn’t matter at all that she was only days away from being married to his younger brother. “Does he know how much you like being called a dirty little slut?” her growled in her ear as he continued to pound in to her. “What would he think of his perfect little bride if he saw you like this.. Begging for me to fuck you harder.”

MAW: Day Four- Alt Streamers! (Alyssa)

Okay, I just had my first game as catcher, and I think I’m more dirt than human, but Mianite Anniversary week rolls on! Today is alt-streamer day, which means that I have to somehow pick my favorite alt. I think I’m going to go with… Nah, I’m kidding, I’m not going to pick. Same as yesterday, I’m going to go through each alt-streamer and write them a fic. First off, Alyssa! When Mot first came through the portal, I had an idea for a flip-fic. This one is an AU (of an AU) in which Alyssa comes through instead. Andor just happens to be there. Feels ensue.

-~-

Alyssa’s everything hurt. Her back was aching, her chest was refusing to rise and fall the right way, and she was 99% sure she had a concussion of some sort.

What had she been doing? She’d woken up early for a training session with Jeriah and Mot, who was grumpy as he usually was around the Mianitee. She had visited Ianite again, who’d been helping her with her most recent growing pains. Skipper Redbeard had taken her sailing briefly (Alyssa liked him a lot- she had begun to think of him as an older brother), and then she and Spark had worked on the book of adventures. The book from her childhood had gone a long way- the stories that she, Alva, and Andor had created were being rewritten with Spark’s help so that when Alyssa next saw the twins, she’d be able to show them a much better version of the book, complete with the adventures of her ten years in the realm of Mianite. After that, she’d been heading to the castle she shared with Mot, when a group of pigmen had escaped from their nether portal. Jeriah and Mot were fighting off a handful of them, and she’d ran to help. Mot was about to be hit by a pigman when she’d jumped in front of him, getting knocked through the portal.

The next thing she knew, a man who looked like Spark was standing over him.

“Ow,” She whimpered, clutching her head. “Spark, why are you so young?”

“CountryBat!” He exclaimed loudly.

Alyssa winced at the noise. Everything was still sensitive, but it was wearing off. Above her, the windmill turned in the wind. “The windmill…?” She trailed off, thinking of her home land. There, the windmill was where they went to play their games and write their stories.

Could she be home?

She propped herself up, rubbing her eyes and looking around. She almost didn’t believe her eyes. After long last, Dagrun stood before her eyes. Of course, much of the city was destroyed and changed, but she still recognized it. Much to her dismay, the castle where her best friends had lived was no more.

“Is this Dagrun? Where are Andor and Alva?” She asked.

The not-Spark looked confused. “Alva? But she’s…”

A young man stood behind not-Spark, staring intently at Alyssa. He looked slightly upset. Despite his much changed appearance and completely different wings, Alyssa knew her friend anywhere.

“Andor!” She cried out, wanting to run and hug her friend, but noticed that he was upset and kept her distance.

Andor looked up at her, his face filled with surprise and confusion. “You… Know me? You’re real and… Alyssa?”

The lack of uncertainty in his words broke Alyssa’s heart. She struggled to keep it out of her voice, saying, “Yeah! I know it’s been ten years, but come on, man! We’re best friends. Speaking of, where’s Alva? You two never used to be apart.”

“Alva…” Andor trailed off. “Alva’s gone.”

“Gone? When is she coming back?” Alyssa asked, not getting what Andor.

“She’s dead,” Andor said in a small voice.

“What? No, Andor, stop joking around. Where is she?” Alyssa asked again, more serious this time.

“She’s dead! She’s been dead since you left!” Andor cried, starting to lose his cool.

Andor had been struggling with his memories as of late. After learning that his mind had been manipulated and that he was made to forget the fact that Ianite was his grandmother, he had been trying to piece together what was true and what wasn’t. Alyssa had been so tangled up with Ianite and what his father referred to as ‘false gods’ that he hadn’t been able to remember her in years. He did now, but he hadn’t been fully sure that she was even real until that very moment. Everything he had known for the past ten years was coming apart all at once, and he was on the verge of breaking down.

“No,” Alyssa whimpered in a small voice. She was blinking back tears.

“After you left, everything changed. My… Ianite lost control of the taint, and my mother and Alva… They were killed. After their funeral, my father changed everything. He became a Mianitee and made me… I’m still not even sure…” Andor struggled to explain. “I forgot everything, Alyssa. I forgot about Ianite, Spark, a lot about Martha, and you. I didn’t remember you. It’s still hard, and I still have trouble telling what’s true and what’s not. The only reason I even remember at all….”

The not-Spark tried to comfort him. “It’s all right, Andor. You’re safe.”

Andor tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I’m glad you left, Alyssa. If you’d stayed, you would’ve got broken too.”

Alyssa was tearing up. “Come here,” She whispered, almost tackling Andor in a hug. “I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, Andor. I’m so so sorry.”

Andor hugged her back. He was crying. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

-

Later, after Alyssa had returned to her former home and visited Alva’s grave, she decided to go to the windmill for old time’s sake. She still had the book in her bag, luckily. Maybe if she read it in there, she could pretend everything was still okay.

Andor was already in there when she arrived in the upstairs part of the building. “Oh, hello, Alyssa,” He greeted.

“Hey, Andor,” She replied.

Both of their eyes were tinged red from their tears. Andor was sitting on the hay bale he, Alyssa and Alva would spend hours sitting on while writing their stories.

“I have the book,” Alyssa told Andor, sitting next to him and pulling the ancient thing out of her bag.

“I haven’t seen this in years,” Andor admitted, taking it from her and flipping through it.

“The first part is all what we wrote when we were little, but the last part is a memoir, as Spark called it. It’s a bunch of our best memories from we were younger, as well as some of mine from the other world,” Alyssa explained. “Maybe it will help with your memory?”

“Yeah, it will,” Andor agreed. “Thank you.”

“It’s as much my book as it is yours,” Alyssa told him.

She eyed his wings, noticing how they were small and white. Andor’s wings had been purple before, and she knew that his wings should have grown with him.

“Can I…” She began. “Can I ask about the wings.”

Andor looked up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to tell the story. He figured the best way to tell her was to just go for it.

“While you were gone, my relationship with the king, I mean, my father got really bad,” Andor began. “He gave me the title of 'family disappointment’, and for a while, I thought I lived up to it. I knew what he was doing was wrong, but I had always been terrified to speak up. Then, these other-versions of you came here. Jordan was one of them. He became a really good friend, and gave me the confidence to speak up for Ianite. I did. You should’ve seen me. I gave this whole speech, proclaiming that I’d forever believe in Ianite and such, and as I did, I was able to form a sort of force field around me, pushing back the lieutenant that was after me. That was the first tip off that I was a demigod. It didn’t last long. I got tired really quickly, and fell. The lieutenant took me prisoner and brought me to the Inertia.”

Alyssa gasped. “The Inertia? That was Dianite’s factory. Why would he take you there?”

“Things have changed since you were gone,” Andor pointed out. “Mianite took it over and converted into a prison camp. It’s bad, Alyssa. So bad. There were kids younger than you there, some barely even able to walk. There were people everywhere, being tortured for only not following Mianite. It was sick. They tried to break me with excessive work, beatings, starvation, and solitude. At first, it didn’t work. But then…” Andor trailed off, staring out at the wall.

Alyssa took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. You’re here.”

Andor smiled weakly and squeezed her hand in return before continuing.

“My father came to my cell one day and ask me one last time if I’d accepted Mianite as my one true god. I screamed at him, asking him why he’d done this to his only living child. He ignore it. He told me what was about to happen had to be done and then they brought me to a new room, with a saw on the table… They… They tied me down and cut off my wings. It was slow and oh, gods, it hurt. I kept screaming out, but they wouldn’t listen. My father was THERE! Watching me get stripped of the one thing I had left and he just STOOD THERE AND WATCHED!” Andor had begun to sob, screaming in random intervals. “HE WAS MY FATHER, AND HE DIDN’T STOP EVEN WHEN I SCREAMED FOR THEM TO JUST KILL ME INSTEAD! It hurt so bad, I thought I was dying. I broke. I lost my fight. Jordan and his friends freed me, and Jordan gave me new wings, but… It’s the only… It’s the only memory I have that is crystal clear. Funny how that works.

Alyssa was crying as well. She wrapped Andor into a hug, and whispered to him, "It’s all right, Andor. You’re broken, but that’s okay. You’ll heal stronger. You can do this, all right? You can soar and prove to them that they can’t clip your wings.”

“Gods, I missed you so much,” Andor cried.

“I missed you, too.”