Pres

And the Sammy Lawrence pre-game has been decided upon!

I had been tossing around a few different designs about what I wanted him to look like, but after discussing with some folks in my stream I really settled upon one of my first thoughts. What if Sammy had been black? 

Certainly it wasn’t common for that time period but it was the starting point for change where rights were steadily being pushed further for people of color. It was a difficult time historically speaking, where racism was far more accepted than it is today. Might add an extra layer of grump to an already barely held together man when you put into perspective that his dreams may of been far higher than what he achieved Even with that fact to have gotten a job at a ‘silly cartoon show’ as the Musical Director may have been a massive achievement for him as well despite how he resented the circumstances. 

Must be irritating when your boss starts messing with the whole studio jeopardizing the very foundation of what you have worked yourself to the bone to get huh? 

Athena: And she had a bunch of scars. Our right, his left. And a jetpack…

Tim: I think I made one eye bigger than the other.

Nisha: I was going for a feeling.

Aurelia: Honestly, I can’t even draw a circle.

Athena: …Okay Jack, you just drew yourself.

Jack: I-I like me.

Hockey is a Contact Sport

Title: Hockey is a Contact Sport
Author: ColebaltBlue
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: None Apply
Completed: Yes
Word count: 2509
Summary: Shitty noticed it first.
“You don’t liked to be touched, bro?” He asked one crisp fall day just weeks before the end of Bitty’s first semester of college. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he didn’t even reach out an elbow to bump Bitty.
“Oh!” Bitty responded, surprised. “Uh, I guess not? I don’t think so? I haven’t even really thought about it to be honest?”

Most memorable line: “Yeah, and eat some protein for dinner, the butter in the pie crust doesn’t count, eh?”

There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can’t be lies […] She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Ameon the Dragonknight, but no one heard.
— 

A Clash of Kings

The first person who tries to rescue Sansa is Dontos, who calls himself Sansa’s Florian. This goes horribly – he directs her into the arms of Littlefinger. He doesn’t save her. 

Then there are the Tyrells, in the shape of Lady Olenna, born to House Redwyne. Once again, they do not save her. They want her for her title and claim to the north. In fact, because of this attempt to steal her claim, she ends up married a child bride in a forced marriage to Tyrion Lannister. Again, she ended up worse off than she was before. 

Lastly, there’s Aemon the Dragonknight. Jon literally pretends to be Aemon when he’s a child. He’s also of House Targaryen ala the Dragonknight. All of the stories aren’t lies. Of the three knights Sansa calls for, one’s incarnation is a true knight who genuinely saves her. His story isn’t a lie.

Interestingly, this is the same chapter where she flowers and is fit to be bedded, so Cersei talks to her and advises her on married life. “Do you want to be loved, Sansa?” “Everyone wants to be loved.” When Cersei talks of the few parts of magic in a woman’s life, she talks of her own brother’s non-platonic love. 

This is a little fic I wrote several years ago, but I found this ring on Amazon and it inspired me to edit it/repost it for your reading pleasure. It’s still my favorite Sherlolly proposal I’ve ever written, and was inspired by a long week of studying for a molecular biology final. (Sherlolly + science = the real OTP)

Come to Baker Street immediately. – SH

Please. – SH.

Important. – SH

Molly stared down at her phone and sighed. She had been looking forward to spending a quiet night with Toby in front of the television. Oh well, she thought. She couldn’t deny that she was excited to see Sherlock. Although they had been together for almost two years, a high-profile kidnapping had kept them apart for the past week and a half. She missed him. Maybe he had finally solved the case.

She hung her lab coat by the door and walked out to the street, hailing a cab and directing the driver to 221 Baker Street. She would find out what he needed, and then perhaps she could convince him to take her out to dinner. 

Their anniversary was fast approaching, after all.

Keep reading

How I imagine myself arriving in Italy tomorrow…

Versus the inevitable reality…