.flow ask

anonymous asked:

Your klance art just made me think about Lance just going full on out with the flirting and seduction with Keith and it's not like Keith doesn't like it HE JUST DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO REACT he's so flustered and Lance is way too hot an Keith can't cope

haha sorry this is so late (i based it on this then realised after i finished drawing that it didnt work out as well as i’d hoped but yea oh well)  

anonymous asked:

Jason and Tim arguing over who had it worse when it came to living up to their predecessor's legacy

‘All I’m saying is… I was living in the shadow of a dead boy.’

Jason looked up from his book with a scowl, turning the page a bit more roughly than he had meant to. He and Tim had been holding their own pity party of “who had it worse” as Robin when it came to living up to their predecessor’s legacy. Jason had made some comment about “back in my days as Robin”, and Tim had had enough self-respect to become offended. And as a consequence, Jason had only gotten through five pages and was tempted to just give up reading altogether. 

Truth be told, he knew that Tim probably had it much worse than him, when it came to this specific issue. And he was only arguing with him because he knew how much arguing for the sake of arguing annoyed his brother. 

But then again, the only thing Tim really had to do in order to surpass his predecessor, was not die… so Jason stuck to his guns. He set his book down and leaned forward, giving Tim his best “I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are” look. 

‘Tim. Firstly, I’m a bit offended at being called a, quote unquote, “dead boy”…’

Tim frowned. ‘You call yourself a dead boy all the-’

‘-And secondly,’ Jason interrupted him cooly, ‘My standards were far, faaaar lower than Dick’s. To live up to my predecessor’s legacy meant being a perfect, obedient, chirpy, quipping, circus act, which was not happening in a million years unless global warming wasn’t a thing and hell froze over, giving us another ice age. You, on the other hand, just had to not do any of the things I did.’

Tim pursed his lips, sitting there in silence as he regarded Jason with a look of complete and utter exasperation. 

‘So…’ he said slowly, enunciating every word, ‘not die.’

Jason nodded, rolling his eyes. ‘Yeah. Like I said. Lower standards.’

Tim sighed, massaging his forehead as he turned back to his laptop, tapping the keys distractedly. ‘Okay. But consider this: in order to not die, I actually had to achieve a standard of near-perfection as Robin that not even you or Dick were expected or pressured to reach.’

‘Okay,’ Jason countered. ‘But consider this: in Bruce’s eyes, none of us are ever good enough.’

‘So your point is, we’ve all had it bad and it’s pointless to try and decide who had it worst because we all had a common denominator and standard to live up to: Bruce.’

Jason shrugged and lay on his back on the sofa, opening the book again. 

‘Even Bruce doesn’t live up to Bruce’s standards, so yes. It’s fucked up and we were all screwed from the start.’

‘Oh boy. That went south real quick.’

‘So wait, when I go off on Bruce, it’s too far. But when we’re talking about when I was a “dead boy” it’s all fine and dandy?’

‘All the time, Jason,’ Tim repeated without looking up from his laptop, his voice bland. ‘All. The. Time.’

Unable to think of a reasonable response or blatant lie, Jason scoffed and stood to find somewhere he could read in peace and not get his ear talked off or, god forbid, counselled by his younger brother.

‘Well, you try dying and see if you can stop talking about it. It’s a life-altering event, a real milestone.’

‘It’s also only meant to happen once,’ Tim said pointedly.

Jason paused to consider this. ‘Hold up. So, technically, Damian has already lived up to the standard I set as Robin because he also died and came back. Grayson had to fake it, so he’s disqualified… and we’re not counting Steph because she was never even given a chance, and would beat all our asses in the ‘who had it worst’ game.’

‘Which means I do have it worse than you, because the standard I now have to live up to is resurrection.’

‘WWJD, Timbo,’ he grinned, finger-gunning his brother as he walked backwards out the door. ‘”What Would Jason Do?”’

‘Die and come back a salty gun enthusiast,’ Tim muttered under his breath, mulling over their conversation and taking it more seriously than he should. ‘Also, Easter was last month.’

anonymous asked:

DUDE! wtf?? i'm sorry that guy repost your art!! i knew it was yours the moment they posted! its an old drawing of yours on DA right? :o so sorry man!!! have you told jack about this???? i'm sure he'll take it down :(

Yep. i’m just gonna wait until jack realized it was mine and it got reposted by some douche.

but if he doesn’t realized it then… i’m gonna listen to Enya - Only time everyday.

anonymous asked:

Everlark for number 29? Your fics are great, keep on writing!

So, um…this prompt is two years old. Yikes. But anyways, the requested dialogue phrase is “I thought you were dead,” and it will be a miracle if the Anon who sent this even remembers sending it (*crazed laughter*). Anyhow, this prompt along with a few reviews shook something loose in my head and the below 4K+ word vomit happened. Not beta’d, so forgive my mistakes, also the end feels rushed but short of completely rewriting Catching Fire this is what you get. It is a continuation of something that is a year old, which you can read on:

tumblr

AO3

or FF

your choice. You’re gonna want to read that part first. And before you ask…yes there’s a third part in the works. So now I have to figure out how to post this part to the other sites when I said I wouldn’t expand it. Why do I do this to myself? I should be working on ms2sl or It’s All a Lie. Enough whining! Rated M for sexy times. Enjoy.


It takes a good two minutes for what they’re suggesting to sink into my brain. As soon as it does, I shake my head vigorously. “I’m not saying that.”

“Come on, Katniss. Your mother will know it’s a lie.” As if that would be my only real objection.

“No!” I shout at Gale but my eyes are drawn to Peeta, sitting in one of the bright chartreuse armchairs, hands clenched with his forearms resting on his thighs. There’s a strange tick in his jaw and a gaping chasm between us that I don’t know how to breach. My next words are directed at him. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he whispers. My eyes burn and bile rises in my throat as I run from the room.

“Catnip,” Gale pleads. He hasn’t called me that unless there’s a camera around since before the last Games.

“Let him talk to her and explain,” I hear Haymitch say and I know that Peeta’s following me. I run to the only place I can think of that might allow me to talk freely, so long as the wind is howling like it was last night. A cold blast of wind hits me when I reach the roof, bringing me to an abrupt halt. Peeta’s warmth crashes into my back. I didn’t think he’d be able to catch up that quickly.

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Every McHanzo fic

-moody hanzo, refuses to eat with the rest of the team, practices archery by himself

-McCree “holy fuck he’s hot and I need him Right Now”

-somehow they end up practicing together, always coming out at a draw

-hanzo comes out of his shell and begins eating meals with everyone

-McCree kisses hanzo or vice versa, they then give each other the silent treatment for a week until McCree is like “listen darlin”

-they fuck and everything is good and somehow everyone else finds out and hanzo gets embarrassed

Bonus:

-hanzo wearing McCree’s serape

-drinking buddies

-hanzo’s “beautiful flowing hair”

-McCree asking a sassy genji for advice

-hanzo starts calling mccree ‘Jesse’

It Wasn’t a Mistake

Pairing: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 5487

Warnings: sin, fluff, angst?, blood

Author’s Note: I decided to write this to celebrate the trailer of American Assassin coming out and it was a fucking amazing trailer. Dyl looked so good. oml. I want to thank like all my friends for encouraging me that this is good! I wanna thank @dumbass-stilinski for looking it over, helping me with some parts, and just being amazing all around. You da best babe. I hope you guys enjoy!!

Originally posted by stydiaislove

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anonymous asked:

You should write something about Even graduating! :)

hello! sorry this took so long! i combined it with another prompt too “ even getting an email that he got into film school” and i hope i did it okay! casual reminder that i know nothing about how school/uni works in norway, so i kinda had to improvise :P enjoy!

*

“I’m fucking free,” Even heaves a sigh of relief as he flops face down onto his and Isak’s bed. Isak flops on top of him, making him groan at the weight. “Get off me.”

“No,,” Isak replies quickly. “I like it here.”

“Get off me,” Even repeats, whining slightly now, “I just graduated.”

“No.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that what you want as a reward for graduating?”

“We already established that this morning.”

Isak hums, burying his face into Even’s neck and pressing kisses there.

“But what I want right now is for you to get off me, you big lump.”

Isak pulls his head back and lets out an offended huff. “You love me being on top of you,” he teases.

“No, I don’t,” Even tries to argue, but Isak can hear his smile. Even tries to shuffle underneath him, trying to force him to roll off, unsuccessfully.

“Maybe you should work out more,” Isak teases.

Even takes a deep breath and gives one last push, rolling Isak off him to the side where he lands with an “oof.”

“I win,” he declares with a cheeky smile, rolling onto his side to look at Isak, who sticks his tongue out at Even.

Even’s about to lean in for a kiss when his phone goes off with an email notification. He would ignore it, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been riled up for days about receiving emails from universities that he’s applied to, so he rolls away, ignoring Isak’s pout, and checks his phone.

It takes him all of ten seconds to read the email, at least the part that matters, but then another twenty seconds to actually react.

“Holy shit, Isak!”

“What?” Isak says slightly concerned.

“Holy fucking shit,” Even says again, holding his phone out to show Isak. When Isak takes it, Even rolls onto his back, putting his hand up to his hair to run it through, mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Isak gasps from next to him. “You got in.”

“I got in,” confirms Even, still looking at the ceiling, because he’s not sure what else to look at. He’s not sure  what to do with himself, right now.

“And,” Isak continues a few seconds later, “this was your first choice, right? Oslo?”

Even nods.

“Fuck,” breathes Isak. “That’s awesome.”

Even nods again. Isak rolls onto his side next to him, and reaches out a hand to Even, placing it on the side of his neck and stroking with his thumb, while smiling softly. After a few seconds Even shifts onto his side to face Isak, and sees a look of incredible pride in his boyfriend’s eyes. Isak reflects this with his words.

“I’m so proud of you, Even,” he whispers, because there’s no-one that needs to hear it but the two of them. “So proud.”

Eve lets himself grin widely at Isak, before moving forward to kiss him, still smiling.

Isak pulls back a few minutes later and looks up to see Even smirking at him.

“What?” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“I just decided,” Even says, nonchalantly. “I definitely want graduation sex for this.”

Isak simply rolls his eyes and tugs him back in for another kiss.

anonymous asked:

Hey i was wondering if you had any thoughts on the whole Icarus' pride/fall analogy for fahc Gavin that seems to have gone around a bit? If you feel like it of course!

Oh Ramsey’s perfect little frontman, all polished shine and pearly whites, mouth dripping charm like poison, like promise. How fitting to dress him up in ancient fables, a cautionary tale that has stood the test of time, how apt to deem him doomed from the start.

Is it any surprise that the people can’t stop talking about about him? Can they really be blamed when he goads them into it? When he wears vanity like the finest cloak, teases rumours out of thin air, when he seemingly lives to be in the limelight no matter the cost.

They’ve named him Icarus, like hubris. Like ill-fated glory hound. Like pretty fool with his head in the clouds. Like the fatal fall is inevitable and he has already lost. It’s funny how no one ever talks about the fact that Icarus was running, hurled into the sky to escape the fickle fancies of a cruel king, less human trying to play god than prisoner willing to risk everything for one more day in the sun. Child still naive enough to believe his father could never steer him wrong.

They call him Icarus, and it fits.



At birth he was named Gavin and as a child he’d have given anything to fly. A tyrant needs no crown and cruelty has never been limited to kings; Gavin outgrew blind faith years ago and since that day he has been running. It’s made him cautious, most would never know it now but he has always been calculated where it counted, has never needed another to build his escape route.

He’s as skittish and distrustful as an alley cat, as anyone who has ever been powerless, who is determined never to be again. He investigates every outcome, he does his math twice, and though many laugh when he sets his sights on America Gavin has always known exactly how perilous his wings are. By the time he arrives he has been reborn; all that swanky blasé confidence didn’t come naturally, was built piece by piece, fragile feather by fragile feather, stitched together with fear and need and the hardened resolve of someone who has run out of options.

They say Icarus, like hubris. Like there is any pride in desperation. Like ambition is the enemy, and chasing the brightest, purest thing you’ve ever seen is arrogant. Like that first winged boy wasn’t absolutely aware of what he was doing, like he didn’t aim upwards on purpose, didn’t swear that after a lifetime in the dark he was going to kiss the sun whether it killed him or not. Salvation or bust.



In Los Santos he is golden. Ramsey’s boy, untouchable boy, brilliant, brutal, menace. He is vital, important, he is vicious, he is streaking towards the sun blazing so brightly no one can look away, burning up right before their eyes. Gavin is higher than he’s ever been but he can’t stop now, not when death is coming from above and below and behind, not when everyone knows it’s better to go out on top. Better to choose it, to taunt it, to die laughing with the sun on your face.

He knows what the people call him, knows what they all expect, and can’t quite stop himself from laughing at them; no one ever seems to talk about the fact that Icarus didn’t die in the fall. It was neither height nor folly that that got him in the end; Icarus drowned. Blinded by hope and dropped into an environment he had no way to prepare for, dragged down with no way to help himself and no one around to save him.

For all Gavin’s many faults, real and affected alike, no one can say he is alone, not anymore. Not after he built himself a safety net out of hard eyes and loaded guns, leather jackets and bared teeth, weaving desperate affection and steadfast protection so deeply into the most ruthless crew he’d ever met that they’d drain the entire ocean before they’d let him sink.

They call him Icarus, and it fits, but they are missing half the story. Gavin built his own wings, omitting wax in favour of blood and bone, coated them in bullet casings and gold leaf so they’d catch the sunlight and blind any who tried to look too closely. Who can tell, then, if he is climbing or falling? Who can see clearly enough to know when the ocean is rushing up to greet him? Gavin who is always two steps ahead, who could talk a fish out of water, could charm gravity, who has never feared the fall. Gavin who dreamed of flying, who spent his whole life learning how to swim.

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry, I can't hear you over my six pockets. Oh, what's that I have here? My wallet, phone and 3DS? All in a single pocket? Wow, cargo pants, that's amazing!

um, anyway, while the weight of your sins drags your pants down to your ankles, i’ll be over here, looking good and feeling good, Not wearing cargo pants and loving my life/self

anonymous asked:

what's your least favorite camp camp ship? i honestly can't stand Nikki X Nurf cause it makes absolutely no sense at a l l

nikki x nurf is a thing….? also probably david x max lmao, i dont rlly care for any of the ships involving campers either, i don’t like the idea of kids that young dating ya feel? i feel like friendship is so underrated ! 

Claws-trophobia

So I had this request to have chat, nathaniel and marinette all trapped in an enclosed space, for a long time and finally had a brilliant idea for it (with the help of @squirrellygirlart ) Hope you all enjoy it :) Thanks for the request anon!!

Also @squirrellygirlart did some artwork to go with the piece!!! Check it out HERE!!!!! - it’s pretty amazing!!!


Marinette’s class was helping out at Chloe’s hotel for the day. It was something their class had done once a year every year for as long as Marinette could remember. It was supposed to teach them something about responsibility and the job market and of course Marinette always ended up with the worst jobs on account of Chloe’s hatred for her and today was no different. Marinette was stuck with Gofer duty while Adrien was put at the front desk along with Chloe. Marinette was more than just a little disappointed by it. It happened every year of course but Marinette was beginning to feel that her crush on Adrien was more than a little hopeless. Needless to say Marinette was feeling more than a little discouraged that day. Of course the rage filled akuma that was tearing through the hotel didn’t do much to help improve Marinette’s mood. Marinette ran down the hallway akuma following close behind fiery hair  sticking on end as she screamed in fury. A small fiery blast landed near Marinette’s foot. She yelped as she pushed herself to run faster.

“Marinette!” Marinette was quickly grabbed around the waist and yanked into another hallway as a fiery blast dissolved where she had previously been standing. Marinette looked up to see glowing green eyes staring back at her. She rested her hands on his shoulders their chests brushing against one another as they both tried to catch their breath.

“Chat Noir,” Marinette greeted breathlessly. Chat smirked at her.

“Afternoon Princess, are you alright?” Chat asked, eyes giving her a once over. Marinette nodded.

“I think so,” Marinette assured.

“Good, come on, we need to get you to safety,” Chat Noir released her waist instead taking her hand in his and pulling her along behind him. Marinette let him lead her deciding to transform once he left her to take care of the akuma. Chat rounded a corner only for them to find themselves face to face with the fiery beast. Marinette and Chat Noir skidded to a stop. Chat and Marinette both squeaked as the akuma smiled wickedly down at them fire brewing in her open hand.

“Make a run for it?” Marinette asked cautiously. Chat Noir’s head made a jerky nod. The akuma reeled her arm back fiery blast aimed their way.

“Time to go!” Chat shouted turning on his heel and tore down the hall, Marinette still in hand. Chat led them towards an open elevator at the end of the hall. The doors slowly began to close. Chat released Marinette’s hand diving inside the doorway and keeping the doors open for Marinette. Marinette skidded to a stop just before the elevators glancing back as she heard a door open. Nathaniel stepped into the hallway looking down at his sketch book oblivious to the raging akuma headed straight towards them.

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katsukinks-deactivated20170617  asked:

Hi! I have trouble with sentence flow. Like when I write something and read it afterwards, the order of the paragraphs don't really add up. It causes an awkward jumping to one topic to another. Any tips? :)

Hi!

Flow is an interesting concept. Most people can identity good flow or bad flow when they see it, and yet it’s so hard to define the elements that make it so. 

There is also the matter of deciding where the problem with the flow is happening, since flow could be referring to several different things. It could be:

1. Sentence flow: How each sentence sounds, and whether or not they make sense in the order that they are in. 

2. Paragraph flow: How each paragraph connects to the next, and whether or not they make sense in the order that they are in.

3. Conceptual flow: How each idea connects to the next, and whether or not they make sense in the order that they are in.

And then, for each of those things, there is the matter of whether or not some of those elements need to be there at all, or whether they are just slowing down or confusing the rest of the scene.

I know you state sentence flow, but the rest of the question makes it sound more paragraph or even conceptual. For your benefit and for the sake of being thorough and a little bit Extra ™ , I’ll briefly go over some tips for all three potential issues. Due to the fact that it’ll probably be long I’m gonna do a Read More.

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