and i decided to not go with the colorful ness of it

anonymous asked:

bucky tell us a story about darcy

darcy lewis goes drinking with thor.

that alone should be enough to send your imaginations spinning off to wild places, but that, my friends, is only where our story begins.
it is also something you should know, just in general, in case you happen to encounter darcy lewis.
she’s tazed a god twice, and she goes drinking with thor. on a regular basis.
the first time thor wanted to go drinking after i showed up, lewis was there too. and naturally, if thor was going out so was she. neither of them knew us newbie avengers well yet, but being sociable sort of people, they invited us to tag along. scott immediately agreed, but sam was caught up doing some beta testing in the labs with tony, and said he would catch up when they were done.
so darcy, thor, scott and i went out drinking.
fun fact about thor: it takes him approximately one million alcohols to get drunk, but once he’s there, he likes to sing. preferably epic ballads of victory in battle, but he’s pretty much game for any catchy song that will get a bar excited. that being the case, lewis and thor’s go-to midgardian bar is a karaoke joint.
im sure you begin to see where things are going wrong.
fun fact about darcy lewis? she can also hold her alcohol, but cannot carry at tune. like. at all.
that doesnt stop her from singing, mind you. gotta respect a lady who knows shes terrible but enjoys herself anyway.
scott apparently loves karaoke. i dont know why that surprised me, but it did. even more surprising? hes not actually that bad, although like 90% of his song choices were bruce springsteen. no clue why. anyway, thor was delighted by having a buddy who was not only willing but able to sing with him, and after scott got over his star-struck-ness they had a pretty great time.
it was a good thing that thor and lewis went to that bar on the regular, because im sure any place that hadnt been prepared for them would have kicked all of us out. as it was, they finally booted us out the door after a rousing rendition of ‘wrecking ball’ had most of the bar on their feet. and broke two tables.
(thor apparently settles his tab there in asgardian gold, so no hard feelings from the bartenders.)
the night was young and all of us had enough booze in our systems that we decided to catch a cab back to the tower and see if we could rope anyone else into some shennanigans. thor was buzzed at least, which for thor means his voice is even boomier and his gestures are more expansive–you gotta be ready to duck. scott was drunk, no question about it, and that was probably why theyd wound up singing wrecking ball in the first place. scott’s a cheerful if floppy, “ i love you, i love all of you guys, i love everyone in this bar ” kind of drunk, and was mostly travelling by merit of being wrapped around thors bicep. i was a little buzzed myself, and lewis had had nearly as much as i did. remarkably, she seemed to be chugging along pretty well, some weaving and slurring aside. the lady lives up to her god-tazing reputation.
anyway, we got out of the cab at the tower and started making our way to the doors. scott had partially detached from thors arm and needed extra support, so i was helping keep him from capsizing while lewis trailed a few steps behind the three of us, making color commentary of our three stooges act.
and then out of nowhere, she just…yelled.
all three of us whipped around as quickly as three drunk superpeople can, just in time to see darcy lewis dish out what looked to be a pretty dang textbook perfect roundhouse kick to the chest of some poor guy.
the guy went down. lewis went down too, because the kick had totally overbalanced her. thor and i dropped scott and ran over to help.
which was when sam sat up and said ‘that was a hell of a kick’
because apparently hed finished up his testing and gone out to catch up with us, made it partway down the block to call a cab, then saw us getting out of our taxi. he jogged back–not being particularly stealthy, but we were drunk–and put his hand on lewis’s shoulder to get her attention.
lewis, having pretty poor vision even sober, and worse vision when drunk and without her glasses, just saw some big male figure who’d popped up out of nowhere and grabbed her by the shoulder.
so naturally she kicked him in the chest.
she apologized profusely, but the rest of us thought it was pretty funny. and sam was impressed the next morning when he discovered that she’d left a visible footprint on his chest.
darcy insists she has no idea why she did it. or where she learned to kick like that.
the rest of us have just chalked it up to mysterious darcy lewis powers.

Mapmaking Part 1

So you want to make a custom map! Pylon Bina here to lend their (hopeful) expertise on the matter.

Mapmaking is a great way to add physical context to your stories. Knowing where people are in relation to the world around them helps readers follow along the journey more accurately, ESPECIALLY if there are lots of events happening far away from each other. Tolkein’s books include maps to get you oriented around Middle Earth while multiple plotlines were happening, and C.S. Lewis had maps of Narnia and the surrounding countries so that “Calormen” and “Ettinmoor” weren’t just vague concepts to the reader.

Mapmaking is also a great mental exercise that brings together a lot of general knowledge, and will get you thinking about how your world works. By the end of mapping your world, you’ll have a much better grasp of your setting. Not to mention it’s an indispensable reference!

So, this tutorial will cover the all the different scales that you might need. Some of these are related and will be grouped together: world/region/country maps, and city/town maps. Since the tutorials are image-heavy, they won’t both be put together in this post, but linked separately.

Mapmaking Part 1a: Large-scale maps

Here we’ll go through the process of creating a large-scale map. All steps will be listed in order, but not all steps apply to the kind of map you want. For example, if you’re focusing on a country or province, skip the step about picking a map projection (unless your country is absolutely enormous).


This isn’t really a necessary step for the beginning, but it’s best to think about it early. What kind of look are you going for? An old, parchment-style map? Something sleek and as informative as possible? Is it a reference only for you, or would you include it with your published material? The maps I’ll use for the tutorial are the old-looking parchment ones.


If you’re drawing a world map, you might consider picking a map projection. This gives you a border to draw in and adds some realism to your map. There’s a wikipedia page on map projections to look at (HERE). There’s some crazy ones out there. I went with the Winkel-Tripel projection (fun fact, National Geographic uses this projection for their all-world maps).

Then decide: How many continents? Do you have a Pangea thing going on? Or do you have 5-6 major land masses like Earth does? Is it all islands?


This is the fun part and most creative part, really. Here you’ll choose the location and general shape of your borders/landmasses. They might be the continent’s coastal boundary, or it could be a political border. Keep in mind that political boundaries have way more regularities in them than coastal boundaries do (for example, the boundary between the US and Canada has a long smooth portion in it).

Choose your shapes. They can be super vague, just get the general idea down. Consider completely random objects for inspiration if you want more irregularly-shaped landmasses/countries. Lumpy horse head? Rooster tail? Saggy boot? Go nuts. Here I used a lumpy upside-down arrowhead shape.

Special note on political borders: A lot of the time, political boundaries follow meridians/parallels (resulting in a smooth border), or natural formations such as rivers and mountain ranges. Keep this in mind when drafting.

STEP 3 (optional): REFINE SHAPES

If you feel your shape isn’t distinct enough, take your time and refine it. Add notches, lumps, carve chunks out of the edges, anything you want, until you’re happy with the overall shape. For inspiration, look at a real-world map and look at just how irregular and weird some countries/continents are in their shape. Don’t be scared to make something crazy! I mean, look at the broken-ness of northern Canada. Or the intense squiggles of Greenland. The thin-ness of Chile. Lots of weird stuff irl to remind you just how flexible you can be.


Ahh, the fun part. And the part that might take the longest. Lining/inking! If you don’t have steady hands or worry about making smooth lines, don’t fret! Coastlines (and to a certain degree, political boundaries) are filled with some shaky random nonsense. To get a border that really feels real, embrace that randomness and don’t bother with a steady hand. I purposefully let my hand shake and twitch to get that proper randomness. Make sure that you enlarge your sketch to be properly big enough for your map.

Note how I deviated from my sketch all over the place. The sketch is really just to give you an idea. I encourage straying from it when you want more interesting borders. I also added some random islands nearby.


Before you put your cities down, you need to get the lay of the land. Are there mountains? Rivers? Lakes? Deserts? Forests? If you have a climate already planned, reflect that on your map. You can either include them on your final map, or have it in a sketch somewhere (or on an extra layer in your art program) just so you know. Reference real world maps for help.

To actually draw these things, check out their representations on real maps or fantasy maps. It might be sections of color, different textures, or you can get artsy and throw down some triangles for mountains, clustered circles/scribbles for forests, etc. Just so long as anyone looking at the map can easily tell what’s what. !!! Include a map key if you have to !!!

Consider this: Lots of land features work in tandem. Rivers can originate from mountains. Air currents mean a forest might be on one side of a mountain range but not on the other.  All rivers end in the ocean. All rivers flow downhill! Mountain ranges are BIG. Does a mountain range cut through multiple countries/continents?

Also consider: Do any land features make up a border to your country (if applicable?) Rivers are great for political boundaries.

This has been the first part of making a custom map; stay tuned for the second part (in which pylon Bina goes into adding the civilization part to your new landmasses) coming soon!

The not-so-flawless Diamonds

Warning, this is a super long recap/theory post about the Diamonds. Don’t worry I’ll put most of it under a cut

We got our first look at how Homeworld (or at the very least Peridot) sees the Diamonds way back in “It Could’ve Been Great” and “Message Received”

“They’re absolutely totally completely flawless beings! ….Especially my diamond, Yellow Diamond, the most perfect, the most reasonable, rational, efficient decider ever to exist in the universe! ”

We of course later in that same episode learn that the Diamonds (or at least YD) are not as flawless, emotionless and rational as Peridot describes

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I lost our baby

Request: #13…?  

Could I have 13 for the drabble thing? Thanks!

So basically this is #13 from the Drabble challenge

Summary: You and Peter have been spending most of your days at the avengers tower after the birth of your baby girl. You leave Peter to supervise her for one minute, and you could’ve predicted what happened next.

! y/d/n= your daughters name !

I wanted to make this happy and funny. Hopefully you guys like it!!! Also made this a Peterxreader. If you’d like a Tomxreader let me know! <3 

Originally posted by gounderoos

After announcing your pregnancy you couldn’t tell who was more excited, Peter or the rest of the avengers. They always looked after you and treated you like a baby sister, so naturally they were protective of you. But once your pregnancy became public knowledge, it was as if you couldn’t go to the bathroom without someone holding your hand. You didn’t entirely mind it, you loved having the extra help as the months went by. You certainly love the extra help now that the baby was here and you single-handedly could never do it all. Peter is always there to help of course, it was his job, and his priority. He lived up to the ‘father’ name quite greatly.

      Recently the two of you had been living in the avengers tower with the rest of the gang. You loved it. You were enjoying the company and your baby girl, now 4 months old was loving all the attention. Natasha and Tony spent every moment of their spare time with y/d/n. They loved her as if she were their own. 

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How To Change A Fuqboi (Jungkook)

Word Count: 2,917

Loosely inspired by the song “Fuqboi” by Hey Violet

Rated M (language and suggestive content)

Originally posted by donewithjeon

How to Change a Fuqboi

Volume 1: Happenstance (Jungkook)
Volume 2: For-Getting His Attention (Jimin)
Volume 3: Boning and Binding (Taehyung)
Volume 4: One and Done (Yoongi)
Volume 5: Unintentional Liar (Seokjin)
Volume 6: To Be Loved (Namjoon)
Volume 7: Checklist (Hoseok)


Step 1) Get acquainted*

Obviously, first you need to find him, that “Netflix and Chill” guy who thinks it’s cool to recycle pick up lines from pop songs, ask for “pics” within the first five messages of a conversation, and has the nasty little habit of borrowing his mom’s earrings. They’re everywhere, so really, it shouldn’t be that difficult.

You retrace your steps carefully, gaze glued to the ground. It has to be around here somewhere.

Of course the day you convince your father to let you wear your late grandmother’s silver bracelet, you’d go and lose it.

Maybe it’s along the path you take to your car. Maybe it’s back in your oceanography class. Maybe someone found it and…

Anxiety rips through your veins.

No, it has to be somewhere- you just need to remember where it fell off. Your feet stop carrying you forward as they reach the classroom, bracelet still nowhere to be seen. This is your last chance, so taking a deep breath to futilely fend off the disappointment and subsequent panic, you push open the door.

The professor has long since left and the next session, which you think might be a discussion class, probably won’t start for another half an hour, thus you are mildly surprised to find a student lounging in your exact seat, scrolling through messages on his phone, but also idly fiddling with a VERY familiar piece of fine jewelry.

“Hey!” the rude cry escapes your lips before you can stop it.

The boy looks up, immediately making eye contact and freezing you to the spot. Calling him attractive would do this masterpiece no justice. His muscular shoulders and arms fill out his black t-shirt beautifully, matched with a pair of perfect legs complimented by ripped jeans. And his FACE… his sultry eyes are partially hidden behind sun kissed bangs, hair messily parted slightly to the side in a way that makes it WORK and a jawline so sharp it could split thread.


You immediately know what he is, the coil in your stomach makes it clear, a heartbreaker- nay, a fuck boy. You firmly believe in the live and let live policy, but after the last time, you don’t think you could handle another emotional roller coaster.

It’s almost painful to maintain his gaze, so you drop yours to your feet, voice wavering, “I’m sorry…I… I think that’s my bracelet.”

“Is it?” his voice is the auditory equivalent of tasting thick cake frosting and a smirk quirks the left corner of his lips upward.

“Yes,” you affirm, though sound anything but sure.

“How do I know you aren’t just trying to steal it?” he arches an eyebrow, pinching the bracelet between his index finger and thumb, lifting it for inspection.

You run your fingers through your hair, finding the courage to look at him again, half flustered, half frustrated, “It’s my grandmother’s. Please.”

“Well anyone could say that,” he shrugs, either doing a stellar job at feigning concern or actually (albeit stereotypically) breaking character by showing interest in something that isn’t related to his pleasure, sexual or otherwise.

“Then how can I prove it to you?” you know you sound desperate now, but what else can you do? That’s REAL silver he’s holding.

His smile widens until he’s flashing you a perfect set of pearly whites, “First off, you can tell me your name. I’m Jungkook, by the way.”

*Addendum: acquainted, not to be confused with “friendly” or “intimate.”

Step 2) Keep everything on your** terms

Conversations are, obviously, give and take, push and pull, but try not to lose ground whenever possible. Give a fuqboi an inch and they’ll shove it down your pants.

You waste no time answering his question and Jungkook bobs his head in acknowledgement, a rich hum leaving his throat before he replies, “Alright, nice to meet you. Why don’t you come take a seat so we can talk?”

His suggestion is friendly, innocent enough, and he hasn’t tried anything so far, but hesitation still laces your movements. The seat is cold against your skin, thighs slightly exposed as your skirt settles awkwardly. You pull at the hem, trying to save your decency, cheeks burning for reasons you can’t fathom (or choose not to), voice hoarse, “Can I have my bracelet now?”

“Do you have proof yet?” his tone is teasing.

“Touché,” you sigh, glancing at the clock. Twenty five minutes.

“I think I should keep it safe until I’m sure,” the coyness in his tone is nauseating, “We could-”

On an impulse, tired of this bullshit song and dance, you lurch forward, making a desperate grab for the prize, but Jungkook seems to be one step ahead of you as he, in one motion, collects the silver chain and hides it in his fist.

“Ah, getting antsy are we?” he chuckles. Yes, chuckles. You attempt to withdraw immediately, cheeks coloring, but he catches your wrist with his free hand, “Maybe I won’t think about it so hard if you, say, give me a kiss?”

Jungkook doesn’t fight as you pull away like he’d burned you. It’s not a secret that you REALLY want that bracelet; yet you have NO idea where those lips have been. If you’d been friends- heck, if you had known the guy for more than five minutes, it would have been a POSSIBILITY, but you’d only met… well okay, seven minutes ago.

Still, what other options are available? You can’t really ask a third party for help because as much as you hate it, he’s right. You’ve got NO proof that the bracelet is yours. Jungkook has all the cards and he knows it. The worst part is, he probably knows you know he knows it.

“What if we start by exchanging numbers?” you offer, tearing your gaze away from his hand to force a smile at his face.

His amused grin easily sinks back into a cocky half-smirk, “Sure. Give me your phone and I’ll take care of everything.”

“What? So you have my phone AND my bracelet?” you can’t help yourself.

Jungkook leans forward a bit, resting his cheek against the heel of his palm, sharp gaze boring into your eyes, “Verses giving you my phone and risk letting you hold it hostage until I give you the bracelet?”

He has a point.

With a guttural sound of uncomfortable irritation, you pull the device from your pocket and thrust it at him.

“Thanks babes,” the pet name rolls off of his tongue easily and Jungkook wastes no time slipping his number into your contact list and shooting himself a text. The audacity of some people… well, at least it’s on your terms, not his.

Twenty more minutes-

The door opens, shattering the illusion of isolation. You startle subtly, turning to glare at your newest companion and the fresh hell that’s sure to ensue, but you’re genuinely surprised to find a middle aged woman toting a rolling backpack behind her.

“Hello, professor,” Jungkook gives a chipper greeting that grates on your nerves.

“Hello, Mr. Jeon,” she gives him a smile of acknowledgment before turning on the projector and setting up her computer.

I guess you were a little off on your estimation of thirty minutes.

Your gaze flits to where you know the piece of fine jewelry lies, which is still secured tightly in his fist, “Please, Jungkook. Just give me the bracelet.”

The smallest amount of hope blossoms in you that, in front of his teacher, he may show mercy. But it dies immediately as he slowly shakes his head, tapping his cheek, “Only if you give me a kiss. Doesn’t even have to be on the lips.”


“No,” you insist, standing. “I guess I better leave then.”

“Oh c’mon,” Jungkook practically whines, though the amusement is still heavily present in his expression, “Don’t be like that…”

Without another word, you take your leave, deciding that as long as the bracelet is “safe” with him, you’ll be able to live with it; but for course, only until you figure out how to steal it back.

**Clarification: not “YOURS” exactly, but he should not have complete control of the situation.

Step 3) Don’t fall for his silly*** tricks

These often include but are not limited to intensive verbal flirting, lingering touches, and intentionally prolonged eye contact.

It takes less than ten minutes for your phone to light up with the first text message.

jKoOk OppA: miss ya arleady babes~

It seems as if autocorrect can’t even cover up his douche-ness, though the contact name he input is enough to force a shudder run down your spine.

Me: …?

jKoOk OppA: [(1) Attachment]

Your lips purse in concentration as you contemplate not opening it. With the kind of guy he is, there’s no telling what it could be. Then again, he’s in class so there’s a very limited amount of damage he could do.

Your thumb presses down with only mild hesitation and a picture pops up of your dangling silver bracelet. You sigh in relief. Okay, maybe he’s blackmailing you- or is it blackmailing? He’s holding a piece of YOUR property hostage and demanding… demanding what? This far, a kiss, but that was a joke, right?

Whatever the case, it could be much, much worse and you decide that MAYBE he deserves a chance. After all, he hasn’t done anything TOO bad. Yet. So you decide to play along with his little game for now because what’s the harm?

Me: Did it really have to be “oppa?”

jKoOk OppA: yess ;)

And of course you just really, REALLY want your bracelet.

A few days pass, during which you fervently try to keep the conversation going in order to get this boy’s approval, but the only progress you seem to make is finally changing his contact name. Jungkook just seems to be interested in flirting (big surprise), but stays somewhat on topic by sending you pictures of your stolen possession every day.

This morning, you even get him in the shot, lips pursed, one eyelid dropped in a wink, and this thoughtful message attached:

Kook Boy: mayb you could retrun the favor today??? ;)))

You decide to not grace him with a response, but you can’t help the stupid smile that pulls at your lips. Okay, at this point you can’t deny the fact that you like the attention and sometimes humor him by flirting back. Jungkook always says (or types, as you haven’t really spoken since meeting him because, no matter how long you wait, he seems intent on not showing up for his class on time) the right things, making you blush. And obviously, he’s HOT, for lack of better words.

But the thought that he’s probably saying those very things to ten other girls, making them blush too, is always present at the back of your mind. You’re not special. He just happens to be holding something of value hostage. For all you know, that’s his strategy and…

This argument has been running your mind in circles for about sixteen hours straight now, interrupted only by your sad attempt at four full hours of sleep. It’s so distracting that you use it as today’s excuse to not pay attention to the oceanography lecture, taking precedence over worrying about that essay you’ll need to power through tonight in order to turn it in tomorrow morning.

It would be so easy jut to give in to his demand. A single kiss, “not even on the lips,” and the bracelet would be yours, but then you’d have no reason to talk to him- unless you’d be willing to break your “no more fuck boys” rule.

This seems simple enough, but you deserve better.

It is around this metaphorical mental lap that your phone decides to give off that special vibration, the three staccato hums that you set specifically for THAT number.

Your hands shake as you reach for the device to subtly glance at the message below the desk.

Kook Boy: Hey babes, wassup??? ;D

Me: Boooored in class ;-; wbu?

Kook Boy: ^^ thinking…

Me: About what??

Kook Boy: :’)

Me: Mmmm I’ll take a guess. Me?? lol

Kook Boy: Maaaaybe

Me: Good thoughts? O_O

Kook Boy: [(1) Attachment]

“But he’s already sent me the hostage picture of my bracelet…?” is exactly the line of thought that indirectly leads to you dropping your phone with the loudest fucking clatter ever, interrupting your teacher’s carefully designed powerpoint about tide cycles, and exposing the dick pic to the entire class.

Any affection you might have had for Jungkook is instantly wiped away in a flood of adrenaline and an avalanche of humiliation.

You scramble to pick up the device, but the damage has already been done. The people immediately around you are audibly smothering laughter or blatantly showing looks of disgust. The only thing that saves the dregs of your dignity is the fact that you’re sitting near the middle of the room and the professor can’t see the screen, though he does cast a glance of irritation in your direction.

Once the phone is back in your pocket, you bury your face in your arms, wanting to die.

You’re so put off by the entire situation that you fail to notice both the class ending and everyone exiting the room. The only thing that draws your attention out of the bottomless vortex of slight self hatred and complete loss of faith in humanity are the three short vibrations.

For whatever ungodly reason, you decide to look at the new message.

Kook Boy: lololol sorry beb wrong person~~

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, he confirms your suspicions that there ARE other girls and holy fuck he’s sending them dick pics.

You feel physically sick, bile threatening to rise up your throat.

Judging by his lack of appearances over the past couple of weeks, you take solace in the thought that at least you won’t have to face him. But then, as if SIMPLY to prove you wrong, the door opens and life delivers you one last, stinging kick in the ass. Jungkook strolls in leisurely, like he hadn’t just mortified you beyond repair. Then again, he has no idea.

“Oh! Hey babes,” he gives you a thousand watt smile, voice lacking emotions that normal people would probably feel after sending a misplaced text, such as embarrassment or regret.

That look on your face… I’m not sure if it’s annoyance or humiliation, but either way the only thing you want to do is melt into your seat. Maybe the floor too, whatever it takes to disappear.

He sits next to you, dumping the relatively empty backpack at his feet and adjusting the unbuttoned collar of his blue shirt with tacky, dark blue pineapples printed all over it.

You hate him and his low neckline, sun kissed hair, and cocky smirk.

Much to your irritation, heat pools in the pit of your stomach and you do the only natural thing. You stand, haphazardly gathering your belongings in your arms, and briskly say, “You know what? Just keep the damn bracelet.”

Jungkook’s expression immediately falls into one of shock, “Babes, what are you-?”

Your words get high pitched with exasperation, “Do you even know my name?”


“Then what is it?” your tone is nothing less than venomous, and rightly so.

His fingers rake through his hair, “S- no… Ch…”

“You DON’T know,” you accuse, more angry at yourself for knowingly wasting your time than at him.

“Is this about the picture?” he sounds more confused than anything.

“Yes- no- it doesn’t matter! You were just using me. For what? I don’t know, but I also don’t care. Have a good life, Jungkook. Don’t worry about texting me anymore,” you are prepared to shoulder your way past the door, but once again, his intoxicating voice stops you.

And this time, it’s only two words, spoken in a tone that thoroughly perplexes you: sorrow.

“Wait, please.”

***Definition: Silly, in this case meaning less than savory, but often presented as suave or sincere.

Step 4) Give up and realize that he’ll never change****

You don’t turn to face him, instead simply listening to his next actions. Jungkook unzips his backpack and rises, walking toward you. He stops at a respectable distance, but is still close enough to suggest the smallest amount of intimacy.

The boy gently takes one of your hands, guiding it away from your books, turning it so that your palm faces up. Into it, he drops something cold, tearing your eyes away from the hallway, your route of escape to find the silver bracelet.

He clears his throat, “Here… I’m sorry that I upset you.”

Your fingers close around the metal chain and you decide that one last glance will be okay. Jungkook’s brown eyes easily meet yours and a small, sad smile slides onto his lips. Without another word, you slowly pull away and let the door close between you.

It takes several therapeutic hours of walking around campus aimlessly for you to come to a decision, but you eventually gather enough courage to take out your phone.

The device seems to weigh a metric ton and your fingers feel stiff as you type, but somehow, you manage to complete the message, giving one last, self-affirming nod before hitting the send button.

Me: I forgive you.

****Correction: he’ll never change, unless HE wants to.


A/N: So there’s a 75% chance I’d do one of these for each of the members if people want to read it.

True Q - 6.06

Oh, Q, you rake, you scalawag. You’re so mischievous that you’ve snuck into one of these mostly-unis episodes like the scoundrel you are. Also I believe this episode title, much like Return of the King, contains a spoiler within the title. But we’ll get there.

“Don’t even try to out cheekbone me, girl. I’ll eat you for lunch.” —Bev

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Star ASKS!

Hey, I got an unusually high volume of asks related to Star vs. the Forces of Evil this week. I’m replying to some of them in a couple of text posts. Here’s the first one!:

Anonymous said: FanTASTIC job on the song day episode!

Thank you!!

Anonymous said: Ilysm and ty for everything you’ve done for me and my fellow trans friends!!! 💜💜 im sorry you get aggressive folks coming at because of it. Just know that you’re so so so appreciated and im so glad to know that we have a voice for the lgbt community in children media !! No matter what happen with marco know that just the fact that you appreciate the theory is a lot more than we could ever dream of!!💜💜💜💜 and your webcomic is good too you’re just a genius tytyty!!

Hey anon! Thank you for your support (and for your kind words about my comic)! U_U I am not trans myself (I am only your friendly neighborhood cisbi) but I hope I can be a supportive trans ally! I of course cannot speak on Marco’s canon development as a character, but as for the fan theory itself, I am glad it is bringing you happiness!

Anonymous said: I love that anon is so entitled that they’re telling a storyboard artist which theories they aren’t allowed to like on the show they fucking work on

Yep! It would be one thing if I were openly supporting a popular “neo-Nazi Marco” theory or something but … that’s not what’s going on. Let people like the fan theories they like! As long as they’re not hurting anyone! 

Anonymous said: Did Ruberiot get killed after song day because he posible started a riot/revolution or is he okay?

No, no, he’s okay! He’s probably just super upset.

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Are You Coming, Amad?

(Not my image)

Ahhhh, first Hobbit imagine and Im so excited to share. This was a dream that I had and I just had to write it out. Please send me feedback! Im seeing a possibility of a series, prior and post Amad/Adad. Let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated!

Pairings: Fili x Reader 

Warnings: Battle/injuries mentions, loss of family, cuteness (let me know if I forget anything)

Word Count: 2404

Summary: Reader comes to love a little orphaned dwarf, and Fili reveals his feelings to the reader.

~His POV~

A loud knock shattered the quiet that surrounded him, the room now vibrating with the echoes from the bang on the door. Sleep hadn’t come easy since his last battle, the battle that almost took everything. Nightmares frequented his dreams whether he was awake or asleep, but even worse when he tried to relax and let his mind go. They had all healed physically, with time, but the bruises still ran deep, especially with Fili.

He sat up from the bed, his strong, muscle-ridden arms pushing himself up from his almost-sleep. As he shuffled to the door, he could hear a sign of exasperation from the other side, and upon opening the large wooden door, intricately inscribed with golden inlay, he was surprised at the sight of a nurse. This nurse in particular had become one that he had become quite used to the sights of, as she was the one that he would talk to concerning the little dwarf boy who was orphaned during the BOTFA.

He knew that Y/N had taken a strong liking to the boy, finding a kindred spirit of sorts in him. He tried talking to you once about adopting him, but your reception of the suggestion wasn’t taken well, and you distanced yourself from the dwarf for a little while. Fili took it upon himself after that to visit the young dwarf at least once a day. He would go and talk with him, read to him, sneak him a cookie or three. And the older nurse who took care of him had become someone that he had confided in a lot about his feelings about the boy, and about you.

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You paint?

A/N: Hi! This is my first imagine. It’s a Danisnotonfire imagine where the reader is actually really good at painting and neither Dan or Phil knew, till one day Dan finds you painting and thinks it’s amazing. It’s really long I’m sorry!

Pairing- Dan and reader

Female pronouns

Warnings- None (well, I suck at proofreading :))


The boys had known you about as long as they knew eachother, and you were a good balance to their spontaneous-ness. So when Dan and Phil move to London they take you with them without hesitation. You were long use to Dan yelling in triumph when he beats Phil at Mario Cart or whatever new video game. And you’d learned to buy extra cereal to hide in your room for when Phil is on the prowl. You were comfortable with their antics and appreciated the talents that contributed to the atmosphere in your life. 

Dan’s talent being piano playing with the melodies drifting throughout the entire house, and Phil sometimes singing at the top of his lungs in the shower. You had been gifted with your own abilities as well, but your favorite was painting. The way the paint brushed the canvases, the way various colors blended together so vibrantly and how anything could come from nothing were lessons that got you through important moments in your life and taught you anything was possible.

Sadly, as you finished college with the major your parents told you you would be the best off with and got your steady job, your passion for painting faded like an old work. You still did art, but it was drawing and sketches on printer paper and nothing like the wonders you could create with a brush and some paint. You badly missed painting but your supplies were somewhere in your parents houses, and it was such a long drive for something that may have been thrown away years ago.

It was thanks to your mother you were reunited with your precious talent. She’d come across your painting set up from high school and decided to send you a little care package of your table easel, oil paints, your best brushes and everything you would need to kick start the inspiration again. Painting was your true passion, and she knew nothing made you happier.

The package came while Dan and Phil were at a Youtube convention. So they weren’t there to hear your squeals of excitement that rang through the apartment when you were reunited with your supplies. You threw on you old white button up shirt and pulled on your paint splattered blue jeans that were both in the bottom of your dresser and painted up three painting before the day was over. It felt so good to have the brush back in your hands.

Dan’s PoV

(Y/N) had been in a permanent state of euphoria ever since Phil and I had gotten back from the convention. There was an extra bounce in her step and she would always smile at random times. She seemed the same other than that, except for the occasional moment when she comes to breakfast in the morning looking sleepy because she apparently couldn’t sleep. I occasionally indulged myself in trying to figure out what made her so happy. But no matter how often I caught her with a sudden smile at something in her head or found myself staring at a point in the distance for so long Phil or (Y/N) thought I was having an existential crisis, I couldn’t figure out the extra look of excitement she got in her eyes when something of beauty crossed her eyes. Or why she would sometimes stay in her rooms for hours at a time in silence. As always, (Y/N) was the enigma that made life interesting.

The first big clue must’ve come a year before we’d even moved into the London apartment, when the three of us had volunteered for a park beautification project. (Y/N)’s eyes had lit up when she’d gotten the email that she’d been asked to help paint the new mural that the city was putting on the cinder block tunnel at the edge of the park. I thought it was just because she’d gotten out of redoing the flower garden unlike Phil and I. And I’d shrugged it off when she had shown up in a paint splattered white button shirt and blue jeans of matching style, I guess I figured she’d painted a house or something before. And I was so flustered when at lunch her supervisor came up to me at the barbeque and told me: “Your girlfriend was such a help with the mural, she’s very talented.” I was too busy trying to quickly explain she wasn’t my girlfriend to comprehend the part of her being more than good at smearing paint on stone and having a real gift at bringing out potential in more than just people.

The second one came a week after the convention, when (Y/N) had been 20 minutes late to grab a slice of her favorite pizza and when she finally came out, her hands were far from the normal (Y/S) color. They were instead splattered with various colors of the rainbow. “Oh my god, (Y/N)! What did you do to your hands?” Phil asked.

“Huh?” She asked confused. She looked down at her hands and her cheeks turn a rosy color. “Oh shoot!” She quickly rush to the kitchen to scrub her hands, coming back five minutes later with a red glow on her face that somehow made her look even more pretty than ever. Phil and I look at each other but don’t say anything. I continue eating my pizza and study the blue streak in (Y/N)’s (y/h/c) hair, not connecting the dots until another week later.

Your POV

You ran out of canvases yesterday when you finished your latest peice. It was a painting of the sunset over the mountains, one of your favorites so far. You’d been painting up a storm whenever you had free time or couldn’t sleep, and as a result your room was filled with various masterpieces ranging from the night sky to the galaxy. What on earth am I going to do with all of these? You think pulling on a raincoat to brace London’s glaring rain. Normally you could just hang them on your wall, but the space was already occupied by various posters and photos. I could give them to relatives, but I don’t think I have enough family members in my entire family tree. You chuckle and quickly run a brush through your hair as you continue to get ready. When you were ready you walked out of your room and straight into Dan. “Woah,” Dan exclaimed as you two collided. The camcorder tumbled out of his hand and you quickly caught it.

“Centuries old. Don’t want to break that,” You hand the camera back to him while quoting the Sherlock episode the three of you watched last night. Dan smiles in relief of his camera being saved and you take in the chocolate brown of his eyes. How lucky you were to see the most beautiful wonder of the world everyday. To be surrounded by masterpieces and have the privilege to make one smile each day.

“Thanks, (Y/N). Phil would kick my butt if I broke another camera,” Dan joked. 

“No problem,” you reply. “You recording a video today?”

He shrugs. “Just finished actually,” he shifts the camera to his other hand and notes you rain coat and his eyes widen slightly. “You’re going out? It’s like, storming outside.”

“I need to get some things,” You reply vaguely. “I’ll be alright.”

Dan didn’t seem reassured, “do you want me to go with you?”

You smile at his concern, “I’m a big girl Dan. You’re welcome to come if you’d like though.” 

Before Dan can reply though, Phil’s voice rings through the apartment, “Daaaaannnnnnnn.”

Dan rolls his eyes and yells over his shoulder, “what Phil.”

“We need to record an episode of the Sims.” Dan looks back at me and I laugh. 

“Go record. I’ll be fine, Dan, I’ll pick up a pizza for dinner.”

“Get sausage!” Phil shouts excitedly, from the other side of the apartment.

“Phil I can hear you just fine there’s no need to yell!” You yell back with a giggle.

Dan smiles and shakes his head. “Okay, okay. Just be careful alright?”

“You mean more careful than you are with your video equipment?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Dan laughs, and his smile makes me melt. “Alrighty then. See you later.” He hesitates for a second, but then shakes his head and walks down the hall to record.

(Time skip brought to my by waffles and my lazy A ;D)

I unlock the apartment door and start bringing everything in. Three bags of groceries, three five packs of canvases, and another bag of brushes from the art store. Needless to say, after buying both groceries and paint supplies, it didn’t seem smart to try and bring a pizza on the underground. So instead you just ordered one for delivery and hoped the boys saved you a slice. 

“(Y/N)? You home?” You hear Dan yell from upstairs. 

“Yeah!” You shout and lock the door behind you. Seconds later Dan clomps down the stairs and sees you soaking wet with shopping bags surrounding you.

“Jeez (Y/N), did you walk through a tornado?” Dan asks in regard to your disheveled hair. 

“Haha,” you say sarcastically, wringing out your hair. “Help me with the groceries, Howell.” You pick up your canvases and a grocery bag. Dan gets the other three bags.

“Was the weather bad?” Dan asks as you walk up the stairs behind him.

“No, Dan it was sunny and rainbows filled the sky,” you reply with all the sarcasm you could muster.

“Ugh sound horrible,” Dan retorts.

“So how was recording? Did Dil set anything on fire?”

Dan laughs, “yeah actually. And it was all Phil’s fault.” He finishes with a yell.

“No it wasn’t!” Phil calls back, his voice squeaking. Dan and I laugh.

“Lemme throw my bag and stuff in my room real fast.” You say reaching the hall. “And you better have saved me some pizza Phil.” You yell towards the living room.

“Dan, help,” Phil stage whispers. “We only saved her one slice.” 

“Oh that better be a lie,” You say with a giggle and set your things on your bed. You quickly place the canvases you bought against your wardrobe, next to some of your finished paintings, then go to join the boys in putting groceries away. 

“Okay we saved you two slices, but we’ll watch whatever movie you want,” Dan compromised, handing you the box of cereal to put in the cupboard. 

“It’s cool. You guys up for (Favorite Movie)?” You grab the next item and place it in the fridge. The boys agree.

“I’ll see if it’s on netflix,” Phil says, relishing the excuse to get out of putting away groceries. On the way out, He gives Dan a look like do something you fool. To which Dan rolls his eyes. You and Dan continue to finish putting the shopping away when he comes across your paint bushes.

“Where do these go?” He asked, studying them. 

“Oh I got those, here.” You took the paint brushes from him and placed them on top of your desk. Your eyes catch a particular painting you were quite proud of. A quiet nighttime lake with pond lilies surrounded by a lust green forest with fireflies lighting up the water and sky. You could almost hear the crickets and frogs croaking.

“Woah.” You turn and see Dan standing in the door. His mouth agape and his chocolate eyes darting to your different artworks. He sees you looking  and rubs his neck. “I- Sorry, the door was open and I- Phil got the movie set up and-” His eyes catch the painting you were just admiring. “Did you do these?” He asks, referring to the paintings around him.

“Yeah,” You say sheepishly. You didn’t know why you were so shy about this. Plenty of people had seen your work and said you were good, but Dan seeing them somehow felt, different. You’d never actively asked for someone’s opinions on your work, but you wanted Dan’s approval, you wanted him to think they were good. It embarrassed you a little thinking about it.

“These are- (Y/N) these are incredible,” Dan says. His eyes are trained on your face and you feel a burst of pride. “You should sell some of these.”

You smile and tuck a peice of hair behind your ear, “thanks.” You and Dan stand there for a second, his eyes catching yours and then both of you quickly looking away. “Should we go watch the movie?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s just,” he hesitates, his eyes going from your features to the paintings again, then continues, “those are amazing.” You beam at him once more, then follow him into the living room. Inside your chest your heart felt warm with a sense of achievement and comfort. If the world turned on its head tomorrow and everyone said that your painting were horrid, Dan Howell said your paintings were amazing.

And somehow that felt like the highest praise in the world.

Hi! Thanks for reading.

Summary: Mari and Chat have grown close, and he visits her often. One day, Chat is sad and finds himself on her roof

“Hi! Bye!” Marinette said quickly, practically running through the bakery. She waved to her amused parents, and rushed up to her room, thrusting her school bags into a corner.

She was so close to finishing this dress. She needed just one mega-effective work sesh to complete it- and she was determined that it would be done by tomorrow.

Tikki watched from her forgotten purse, giggling silently. She decided a sneak mission for cookies downstairs wasn’t inappropriate- Mari wouldn’t miss her at this point. She glanced once more at her girl- who was now dancing slightly with her headphones in, and grinned, slipping through the trap door.


Chat was not having a good day.

First, he had received a C on his last paper- seriously, shouldn’t he be exempt? He had only idk, been saving freaking Paris! Again, he might add!

Then of course, it HAD to start raining during the photoshoot today, which definitely didn’t make the bossing and flashes and incessant chatter from the photographer any better.

And now, here he was, on patrol, and Ladybug was nowhere to be found. It had not been on good terms that last time they left each other- all he had done was accidentally walk into where she had hidden for her transformation! Okay, maybe it wasn’t so “on accident”, but how was he supposed to win her undying love if he didn’t even know who she was?

Add to that that his plan hadn’t even worked! She had ducked into another room to transform, after viciously attacking him- come on, his puns sooo did not make her want to scream. They were purrr-fect!

Chat grinned, but it faded quickly. He scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the flooded streets so far below him. Any other day he might have admired the aesthetic of the darkened streets, the reflecting water, the dozens of colorful umbrellas, but right now he just felt cold and wet.

Not that it mattered particularly to anyone. Clearly Ladybug had some aversion to him, and he had always doubted she would ever return his feelings. His father kept him close like a prized possession, but didn’t actually care about him, as a person, not an extension of the Agreste family name. Then there was his mother, who hated him so much that she had literally run away from being his mom.

Ya, definitely a crappy day.

Chat pushed these thoughts from his mind. He already felt bad enough- there was no need for extra depression right now. He stood, and took a couple steps away from the edge. Then, with a bit of a running start, he leaped to the next building, and the next, and the next, on and on until for a moment, he wasn’t even sure he knew where he was.

But he looked around, at the pots of plants, the twirling iron railing, and found he did know. He smiled, a true, happy smile, and drifted to where a skylight shone pink light from the room beneath.

He peered into the slightly dirtied glass, and his smile grew deeper. There, among a mess of fabrics, skillfully sketched designs, and sewing equipment, was his Princess.

Chewing on her lip, her eyes skewed in concentration, arms thrust almost forcefully onto the mannequin front of her, she had her headphones in, and her hips swaying slightly to a tune.


As he watched, she pinned one last thing onto the stand- onto what was likely a fashion masterpiece, knowing her- and grinned triumphantly. Her legs and feet joined her hips, and soon she was all out dancing, giggling and lost in her music.

Then, with all her Marinette-ness, she lost her balance, falling into the pile of fabric at her feet. Her smile never left her face, however, and Chat felt happiness swirl into his own stomach as he watched her.

“Somebody loooo-oooves Marinette!” sang Plagg’s voice in his head.

“Come on- you know that is reserved for Ladybug,” Chat said, scoffing, even as he continued to gaze down at his Princess.

“It’s sickeningly clear from in your head- you think about her all the time, you come here whenever you can- come on bro! Think about it!”

He did think about it- the fuzzy way he felt in the pit of his stomach when he was around her, how much he was attracted to her- he had arrived on the roof of her room without even trying! His eyes widened in realization.

“Plagg- I love Marinette!”

“Sure, act like you got there all on your own,” his kwami grumbled, but Chat could definitely hear a pleased note. “Well- go on, tell her already!”

Chat gathered all his nerve, opened the skylight, and dropped down next to his Princess.

“Chat?” She asked, standing and turning to look at him.

He smiled, almost tenderly, and reached out his hands to cup her cheeks. She stilled, and Chat could feel her pulse start to race, the beat in time to his own speeding heart.

He leaned forward, his gazed locked with hers, and pressed his lips gently to hers.

She froze completely, caught by surprise.

Chat, feeling her unresponsive, felt his heart crack just a bit, and pulled away.

Her eyes were wide, staring him down, a million questions fluttering behind her blue irises.

Chat looked down, his heart breaking further, and moved to leave.

Before he could move anywhere, Marinette unfroze, grabbed his bell, and pulled his mouth down to hers again.

It was much more demanding than Chat’s fist kiss, passionate and fierce, and Chat smiled wide against her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. Chat backed her to the wall, locking her in with his palms on either side of her head, lips moving furiously against hers.

After what seemed like both a second and an eternity, wrapped up into one, they broke for breath, and Chat leaned his forehead to hers.

“I love you,” he whispered, looking into her eyes.

“I love you too,” she said, a smile spreading over her mused face.

(p.s. feel free to add on! :))

I’ve been sick this past few days (it feels like weeks now) and so I have wanted little more than to cry about STAR WARS feelings by reading emotionally satisfying and/or heartbreaking fic and then maybe some porn to go along with it. Leaking faces and wanting to vomit are a lot more tolerable when they come with feelings and porn. \o/

To Argue is to Love by Zinga763, obi-wan & anakin, 1k
   Anakin is sick, Obi-Wan is confused.
In Want by updiddlyupup, obi-wan & anakin, 7k
   Desperate to avoid all the ways he isn’t settling in, Anakin goes on a quest.
Negotation by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, modern au, serial killer au, 64.8k wip
   Over a year ago, Coruscant Police Detective Anakin Skywalker vanished without a trace while hunting the prolific serial killer known within the media as “The Negotiator”.
destination: nowhere by kasuchans, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, some (force) bondage, 4.6k
   The Outlander Club is known for two things: strong drinks and gambling. It’s really difficult to get home after indulging in either one of the two.
the kids aren’t all right by QueenWithABeeThrone, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & ahsoka & cast, 33.1k
   “He dragged me up a hill so I wouldn’t burn to death,” says Anakin. “Obi-wan’s still in there, I know it. I’m going to save him.”
Broken by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, amnesia, dark content, 3.6k
   The Twins are unstoppable enforcers of the Emperor’s will, the sun and moon that hang in the black void of his rule. It is said they are not the same age and that under their hoods they do not look alike, but they fight as one entity, silent and terrible as an eclipse in a spring sky.
untitled by writegowrite, obi-wan/anakin, sith!obi-wan, 1.1k
   Like the steel blade he wields, Obi-Wan Kenobi has come far from his simple beginnings. Anakin Skywalker is one of the brightest suns in the Order of the Dawn.
late night under the stars + angsty fight by writegowrite, obi-wan/anakin, ~1k
   Did the first two in little vignettes as my writing warm-up for tonight…
In Color by Glare, obi-wan/anakin/padme, soulmark au, modern au, 15.4k wip
   Anakin Skywalker is six years old the first time he marks on his skin with intent.
Five Times Anakin Was Uncivilized and One Time Obi-Wan Didn’t Mind by Nisa, obi-wan/anakin, 2k
   It’s all in the title. :)
untitled by Glare, obi-wan/anakin/padme, human au, 1.3k
   The thing is, Obi-Wan doesn’t hate his roommates.
untitled by themikeymonster + ialreadyreadthatfanfic + likealeafonthewind + phosphorescent-naidheachd, obi-wan/anakin/padme, 2.5k
   TPM AU where Padme has a (completely obvious) teenage crush on Padawan Obi-Wan. Little Anakin is slightly upset before promptly deciding he’ll just have to marry them both once he’s old enough.
The Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars by A_Delicate_Fury, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & han & cast, time travel, 9.4k wip
   “I don’t know how this happened. I don’t yet know why. But this is definitely Anakin’s fault.”
untitled by stonefreeak, cody & yoda & cast, supreme chancellor!obi-wan au, ~1k
   Anonymous asked: I’d love to see the trooper’s views in all this. Exasperation at Kenobi not taken enough consideration of his safety. Worries that he’s not sleeping, forgetting to eat? What did they see that made them go to Yoda for help?

full details + recs under the cut!

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Location: 1455 rue Sainte_Catherine Ouest, Montreal

Metro Station: Guy-Concordia

Hello hello!!! I have officially closed all my school books and made myself a nice cup of tea. I am ready to tell you about the all new coffee shop that literally opened about a week ago and how it quickly turned into my favorite spot near school. 

But let me start with a little background story (obviously). So Monday around noon, I came to Concordia for my class. All along the metro ride there, I was wishing I was home instead, drinking coffee, doing something relaxing. Monday blues had hit me hard. Even though my first class started at 2. And I only had one class. Okay… not the worse Monday you can have, but it was still Monday. And I walked into school unhappy. But my bitter unhappiness suddenly turned into confusion.. 

As I walked up to the second floor, I realized that none of the lights in the school were turned on. It took me a while to realize that Concordia was having a power outage. Cherry on top of all the issues this school has been having this semester.

They evacuated the building and my class got canceled. My Monday was getting  a bit better and a little more interesting.

I’m in downtown at this point - with no laptop or notebooks. I can’t do any school work. What do I do? Yap, you guessed it. 

I decided to try HVMANS cafe that just opened next to the EV Building. Let me tell you - every single cafe crawler I know had tried this place within days of its opening. And fell in love. So yes, I was excited to see it for myself.


I walked into the cafe, immediately greeted by beautiful sunlight entering from their huge windows. 

I noticed their decor was mainly concentrated on a very pale color palette - mainly white and pale wood with strong greenery accents. The windows amplified any light that came in, and the white-ness of the entire place reflected even more brightness and made the space shine. I’m a huge believer of light and its benefits to our mood. I was instantly happy. My Monday blues were cured.

Although the cafe was mainly white, they had decorated the space with many little plants (including cacti), which provided a beautiful contrast and amazing prop for those Instagram latte pictures. Plants are becoming a trend in Montreal cafes and I’m absolutely loving it. More please!!! They add so much life, yet have a subtle elegance.

The chairs here were extremely comfortable and they have many tables - and a lot of window seats. I don’t know about you but window seats are my absolute favorite spots in coffee shops. I sometimes hunt for those seats when entering a coffee shop and have my eyes set on the window seats. It’s a bit stressful. But not here, because almost their entire cafe is windows. Chances are - you’ll get the exact seat you want. They have many individual tables and a big desk at the very end if that’s what you prefer. I think I changed my spot about 3 times so I could experience different settings in the cafe. 

Let’s talk about coffee. First of all, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed so long at a coffee shop before (6 hours) and I don’t think I’ve ever ordered so many drinks at once! I took a chai latte (which was recommended by my cousin), a regular latte and a matcha latte. And a croissant on the side.

Ok, let’s start with the chai. Heaven. and gorgeous. and heaven. Best chai latte I’ve ever had in my entire life! The cinnamon wasn’t too empowering, the spice wasn’t too much and the amount of milk was just right. I think I finished it in 5 minutes. I didn’t even take a bite out of my croissant in between sips like I normally do. I need to go back there for another chai. Soon.

The regular latte was my friends’ and she loved it. The latte art on this one was really nice. I need go to back to try their regular coffee since I didn’t this time (oops). 

And the matcha - delicious matcha! Matcha lattes are one of my favorite drinks and not a lot of cafes do it right. It’s really easy for matcha to taste like fish (it’s not suppose to) so I really try to look out for coffee shops that get it right. And HVMANS did. I go to Leaves cafe for my matcha but now this place is a good competitor. And you can see that I had a lot of fun taking pictures of it too.

Another aspect I loved were the people. The barista was super nice and forgave me for my broken french (I really tried). And since this cafe was all new, and right next to a university that lost power for  a few hours, a lot of Instagrammers stopped by at my same time. I was able to meet/see some of my favorites, which made my experience here even more exceptional. 

So, hvmans of Concordia, if our school ever has a power failure again, you know what to do. You know what the real drill is!!! HVMANS: the perfect hideaway on a Monday. 

IG: legendoftamar

Action Figure Tutorial

requested by anonymous

This is a Photoshop tutorial for how to create action figures and their packaging like in the graphic above.

The action figure is taken from a pre-existing photo and the packaging can be made from scratch, no stock images needed.

If you have any questions, please don’t be afraid to ask. And if you found this post helpful, please like or reblog!

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anonymous asked:

You know I hate to admit it but the reaction of Historia to the letter was something so insensitive, I mean those of the 104 cried more for Reiner herself cry for Eren and knew him 1 month ago is the most insensitive I've seen, I do not know if Ymir is dead or not but if in fact this was planned for her at least a better reaction osea that girl gave everything for the other and she only dedicates a tear as if it were a pet and only says "silly" and of course it was when falling in love From her


Historia and emotions still have some… problems.

She isn’t an empty shell, and she’s not high on parental validation, and she’s willing to act on her own will, but she is still a long ways away from the confident soldier who shouts out her determination to live for herself with a smile.

Then here’s the first sign of Ymir she’s had in months, and she’s just checking in to say, “hey, probs dead, btw here’s my tragic backstory; marriage would’ve been cool.”

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Mini-Masterpost: Functioning Labels and “Levels” of Autism (Addendum)

We’ve been getting a lot of asks lately involving functioning labels and terms like “levels” and “severity” of autism. While we thought we had cleared all this up in our two-part masterpost series on functioning labels (part one, part two), we now realize that maybe we didn’t make certain things entirely clear.

First of all, what qualifies as a functioning label? Certainly terms like “high functioning” and “low functioning” are on the list, but so are the following:

  • mild/severe autism
  • levels of autism
  • degrees of autism
  • etc…

More important than memorizing a list of words you shouldn’t use, however, is understanding the reason why. It isn’t the words that are the problem; it’s the concept.

Before we go on: yes, doctors do use these functioning labels to diagnose autistic people, even now. Our point is not that these terms are not used, it’s that they shouldn’t be. Many people, including us, are working to change the system which is used to diagnose autistic people. So even if someone has a functioning label in their diagnosis, it is still not a good idea to use those labels, or to rely on them to tell you anything useful about their various autistic traits, when you are writing them as a character.

There is no such thing as a high-functioning or low-functioning autistic person. There are not different degrees or types of autism. There is no such thing as “mild” or “severe” autism. These things do not exist.

There are many different autistic traits and every single autistic person is completely individual. The things that are typically used to decide if someone is a “mild” or “severe” case, “high” or “low” functioning, have more to do with how well the person can pretend not to be autistic than anything.

A person might be diagnosed as “low-functioning” or “severely autistic” if:

  • They are nonverbal some or all of the time; they don’t talk, and communicate via other methods like writing, typing, using picture cards, sign language, etc.
  • They are evaluated on a bad day, or when they’re very tired or stressed; they don’t have the energy and/or desire to act/communicate like allistic people do.
  • They stim a lot and very obviously; it is obvious when looking at them that they are autistic.
  • They have frequent meltdowns in situations where other people see them.

None of these things mean the person is not able to function. Some people might need help, others might not. Ability to speak is not connected to ability to take care of oneself or live independently. Stimming doesn’t change anything about a person’s intelligence. Verbal ability, stimming, and other factors which are usually looked at as signs of someone’s “severity” of autism are completely separate from one another and from other autistic traits. Calling someone “severely” autistic or “low-functioning” because they can’t talk is completely inaccurate. The only thing you can tell about someone who can’t speak is that… they can’t speak. It says nothing about the rest of them as a person.

A person might be diagnosed as “high-functioning” or “mildly autistic” (or formerly, as having “Asperger Syndrome”) if:

  • They are verbal and communicate well verbally, at least during the diagnosis process.
  • They do not show many visible signs of being autistic; they stim in subtle or socially normalized ways like tapping their fingers, playing with their hair, etc.
  • They are diagnosed on a good day, or at a time when they have plenty of energy to use to act like allistic people want them to.
  • They are generally skilled at mimicking others and figuring out what allistic society considers “appropriate” and “acceptable” behavior and “pass” as allistic; they put an incredible amount of energy into trying to pass as allistic.
  • They don’t have meltdowns, or they hide their meltdowns.

None of these things mean the person is able to function independently. Some people might not need help, but many do. They might have terrible meltdowns from stress or sensory overload and simply hide them from others (or their meltdowns might be mislabeled “tantrums” and punished). They might use all of their energy to “pass” in social situations and then be totally unable to care for themselves alone. They might have extreme difficulty with executive functioning and need help with basic daily tasks and life skills. There are many things that might interfere with a person’s ability to “function” independently that have nothing to do with their verbal ability or ability to pass as allistic, and calling them “high-functioning” is harmful because it suggests they should not need help (and should never make mistakes).

There are many autistic traits which are not necessarily related to one another. A person can be verbal, but visibly stim in obvious ways all the time and be totally unable to make eye contact. One person might be extremely hypersensitive and have meltdowns from sensory overload, but have no trouble with social interactions. One person might seem perfectly capable of living independently and communicating, but be unable to perform basic hygiene or keep their house tidy due to executive functioning problems.

Perhaps even more important is the fact that these traits are not set in stone. One person can be verbal one day, nonverbal the next; seem totally fine in the morning but unable to function in the evening when they’re tired; have a high tolerance for sensory overload in some situations but get meltdowns for other reasons or at other times.

So What Do I Call My Character?

This is one of the most common types of questions we’ve been receiving lately: “What do I call my high-functioning/mildly autistic character if I can’t use those words?”

You call your character “autistic”. That’s it. They are not high functioning or mildly autistic (or low functioning or severely autistic). They are just autistic.

If you’re having trouble wrapping your head around this, a metaphor might be helpful. Picture an American (someone who is American by birth, for the sake of this metaphor). Now, is this person mildly American, or severely American? What would that even mean? Do you define “mild” Americanness based on political opinions? Would liberal-leaning Americans be considered “mildly” American and conservative-leaning ones “severely” American? Or the other way around? Or does their degree of American-ness rely on their skin color or religion? On how much time they’ve spent traveling abroad? What part of the country they’re from? Where they live now? Their degree of love for hamburgers and apple pie? Their accent?

Obviously, this is total nonsense. An American is a person who was born in America. All of those other things are traits which are unique in every single American citizen. An autistic person is a person who is autistic, who has an autistic type of brain. All of the other traits are unique in every single autistic person.

So how do you distinguish their autistic traits from others? The same way you’d describe an American - not with a single word labeling their “degree” of Americanness. You need to describe them individually. Your character will have some combination of the traits including verbal/nonverbal/partially verbal, hypersensitive/hyposensitive, hyperempathetic/low empathy, having one or more special interests, stimming in one of many various ways, potentially having issues with executive function, and so on (see… well, see the entire rest of this blog for more information). Almost all autistic people’s traits change depending on the situation, their energy levels, and other factors. Verbal autistic people can become nonverbal. Hyposensitive ones can become hypersensitive. People with low empathy can be hyperempathetic in other situations.

In short: every single one of us is different. If you find yourself asking how to describe your autistic person, looking for a replacement for terms like “mild” and “severe”, please try to think of them in another way. They have a collection of traits which are not necessarily connected.

If you have more specific questions, do feel free to ask. But please don’t come to us looking for a new word to replace “high functioning” - there isn’t a better word, because it’s not the words that are the problem, it’s the concept itself.

We hope this helps to clear things up. Happy writing!

anonymous asked:

Can I please see some Elorcan featuring a pregnant Elide being very annoyed at Lorcan's overprotectiveness?

Elide stood in her room at her family’s castle in Perranth. Her castle now, she supposed. 

Elide was standing in front of a window looking out at her city and lake it lay on. After the horrific war and months it took to get back to Terrasen and then many more months it took to rebuild most things, Elide was glad her city was content again. Upon arriving home Elide took the official title of Lady of Perranth with Lorcan being Lord. She subconsciously smiled and put a hand to her swollen belly at the thought of Lorcan. Her Lorcan.     

Together the two raised Perranth back to the glorious city it had been before Adarlan took over. Together the two helped Aelin, who was all the way in Orynth, with her reconstruction plans as well. Together the two would love and cherish this child growing inside her. Elide’s smile only grew at the thought of that. 

Two days after a rather glorious night, Elide awoke to a horrible feeling deep inside her. She instinctively ran to the bathroom and threw her guts up. Later that morning, after throwing up some more, she officially decided she was pregnant. Elide was terrified of Lorcan knowing. Mainly because the pair had only very lightly talked about the subject. For the rest of the day she skirted around the subject and avoided her husband like the plague. Her secret was short lived though because as the two were laying in bed that night Lorcan softly asked “Why is your scent different.”. That was enough to send her sobbing on his chest. When she finally calmed down, thanks to Lorcan comforting her, she spoke. She told Lorcan all she suspected and all she worried about that day. When Elide finished, her great warrior just stared at her for what seemed like hours. When he finally spoke he simply said “Is..Is this what you want?” She timidly nodded her head and didn’t dare look at him. Lorcan gently picked up her chin so she saw his face. And when she saw that beautiful face of his with a huge grin across it and his splendid eyes filled with joy she knew it would be ok and that she was ready to have this unborn child with him. 

But that was months ago. These days, Elide was getting quite large as she peaked her half way point. Her belly was abnormally large but that didn’t bother her much because she was abnormally small. However, it did bother Lorcan. Weeks ago Lorcan regulated her to bed rest which she was not happy about. Elide could still walk around her home perfectly fine except for some back pain. But the overprotective territorial Fae bastard, as Aelin and Lysandra liked to say, still made her stay in bed all day everyday while he fussed over her. Elide tried to bring it up once about a week ago but he refused saying he was certainly not being fussy.  So now whenever Lorcan was off tending to something for her, she took the spared time to walk around. 

Right now Elide was tending to herself and looking out of the floor to ceiling windows of their bedroom. Perranth was a spectacular splash of color that decorated the great lake it on as well as the mountains it climbed up like a vine. The sunset today only made it more breathtaking as it reflected off the otherwise blue lake. She let her thoughts wander to her friends, her city, her people, and her child as she idly walked around the room looking out the different windows to her homeland below. Lost in thought she jolted back to reality when she heard Lorcans stern voice. Sometimes it made her mad how easily he could sneak up on her like that. 

“I told you to stay in bed while I was gone talking to the council.” Lornan said with a slight tightness in his voice. 

“You did. But I can walk around our room just fine.” Elide replied

“You should be in bed resting.” Lornan urged 

“Thats all I ever do these days! I just sit in that gods damned bed and rest!” Elide didn’t mean to become so brash but now that it was out it she didn’t care to stop it. “I can do more then sit there and wait for this child! I am capable of waking around some of the house still. I am still capable of making decisions for this city, my home. I mean gods Lorcan, I can at least get my own water when I’m thirsty! And I don’t need to be on stupid bed rest.” By the end of her rant Elide panting hard but she felt better getting the anger out. 

Lornan had never looked so put off. Had she really surprised him that much? Good, she thought, he deserves it. 

Lorcan’s voice was restrain when he finally spoke. “You are right.” He said. Elide almost fell over right then and there from those three little words. Her jaw must have hit the floor because instead of leaving it there Lorcan continued. “You are perfectly capable of walking around most of the day and you don’t need to be on bedrest……yet.” 

Elide murmured and mumbled for quite a while before saying an easy “Thank you.” As she half shuffled half ran to Lorcan and gave him the best hug she could. 

“Im still going to make you sit and rest anytime you can and I’m still going to, as you like to say, fuss.” He said into her hair as they embraced. Elide just chuckled and let the subject go for now. 


Aaaaaahhh that took me an hour and twenty minutes to write. I hope you like it and there was enough Elide and Lorcan -ness in it for you. Im sorry if it was really bad. It was hard to write as Elide because she is honestly the opposite of me. The only thing I have in common with her is that we are both short. I really hope you liked it and some part of it made you smile. Id love some feedback on what was wrong and what was right. Thank you for the request! It was really fun to do and I can’t wait for more!

What If (Canada, 2013)

Predictions: Alex has seen this movie. Kat…knew it starred Daniel Radcliffe? Thus, she predicted that it was about him wandering about town, wondering, “What if I were a wizard?” Stay tuned for as many Harry Potter jokes as we can possibly squash into this entry.

Plot: Daniel Radcliffe is a sad sack who has not yet gotten over his breakup of over a year ago. He drags himself to a party at his friend Adam Driver’s house, where he meets Adam Driver’s cousin, Zoe Kazan. They have a lot in common, and he immediately likes her, but upon walking her home he learns that she has a boyfriend. Since he is a decent person, they become friends instead.

Time passes. They continue to be friends. Zoe Kazan continues to have a boyfriend.

More time passes. Zoe Kazan’s boyfriend, hotshot copyright lawyer, moves to Dublin for what is supposed to be six months. Daniel Radcliffe and Zoe Kazan hang out even more, growing ever closer. Adam Driver marries a girl he met at that same party. Daniel Radcliffe realizes that he needs to express his feelings, but (blah blah blah) this winds up going terribly, and he and Zoe Kazan stop talking, even though she has broken up with her boyfriend anyway. Zoe Kazan takes a promotion in Taiwan, and Daniel Radcliffe decides to go back to medical school. Adam Driver and his wife host Zoe Kazan’s going-away party, and, at the last minute, Daniel Radcliffe decides to attend. They make up (and out! We will never tire of this incredibly lame barely-a-joke; hope you are looking forward to seeing it approximately 50 more times on this blog).

More time passes. It turns out they got married. How nice.

Best Scene: We really liked this movie, and it’s almost entirely adorable stuff between Daniel Radcliffe and Zoe Kazan, so it’s tough to pick. One of our favorite parts, though, is when they first start becoming friends and are emailing each other. Just one of many lovely and organic parts to this film.

Worst Scene: Maybe the sequence where we’re shown the construction of a “Fool’s Gold” sandwich? A butter-covered loaf of bread, filled with peanut butter, jam, and 1 lb. crispy bacon. The internet says that it’s “surprisingly good,” but we find that difficult to believe. However, the internet also says that it’s 8000 calories, which we do not find difficult to believe.

Best Line: “I have a dead-end job, I live in my sister’s attic, and I never go out. …Uh, correcting pronunciation is my old thing, actually. My new thing is oversharing.” – Daniel Radcliffe, making a winning first impression upon Zoe Kazan. There are actually a lot of funny and/or touching lines in this movie, though. This just happened to be one that we remembered. Props to this movie! There was only one line in it we hated (see below).

Worst Line: Sigh. In the middle of this movie, there is your standard one-trick joke about Adam Driver accidentally sleeping with a trans woman. HERE’S THE THING ABOUT THIS JOKE: besides its being, you know, transphobic, it is SUCH A LAME, OLD, CONSTANTLY-REUSED GARBAGE PIECE OF JOKE. This shitty joke has appeared in basically every piece of media we’ve seen since middle school. Honestly. Come up with a new offensive joke, if you must.

Highlights of the Watching Experience: Toronto is beautiful, y'all!!!! So is Dublin. All the scenery in this movie, A+. We really covet Zoe Kazan and Daniel Radcliffe’s neighborhood. The walkability score looks excellent. But why are Daniel Radcliffe and his sister (both clearly British) living in Canada? Zero backstory was provided. Are their parents…also in Canada? Their parents seem to originally have been doctors in London… Discuss.

How Many POC in the Film: Basically none. Bad job, movie. The most we got was the knowledge that Daniel Radcliffe and Zoe Kazan had each dated one person of color in the past. Really, movie Canada? Even Hogwarts has, like, three or four POC, and that’s in movie BRITAIN.

Alternate Scenes: The scene in which Daniel Radcliffe and Zoe Kazan are out in the city of Toronto, and 50% of the background actors are POC. Alternately, a movie about the zombie apocalypse, in which super-pale Daniel Radcliffe turns out to be Patient Zero. It could still be a romcom, though. But they would be forever separated by his zombie-ness. So maybe not a romcom. A romantic zombie drama. A romzom…dram. Who wants to fund this?? Any takers????

Was the Poster Better or Worse than the Film: Worse. What is happening in this poster???? It is like the fridge magnets have come alive in an insect-y swarm between them. No, we don’t want that. We would not watch that movie.

Score: 8 out of 10 Harry-Potter-hangs-out-with-Kylo-Ren smooches. Guys, this is Adam Driver’s least abhorrent role! He is…perhaps a touch too free-spirited, but otherwise, he is mostly okay. He even has some pretty funny lines from time to time. His face is still weird, though.

Ranking: 10, out of the 78 movies we’ve seen so far. Not bad! Worth watching, if you haven’t seen it and are interested in enjoying some beautiful shots of unrealistically-white Toronto. (Seriously, though, what is this city in which even Chinatown doesn’t have any people of color? Is that Chinatown that Zoe Kazan and her boyfriend are strolling through? Kat genuinely thought it was, like…an Asian-themed farmers’ market. Red lanterns. White people. You know.)

Holy Boy - College AU

this is platonic Spencer Reid x reader because friendship imagines are so under appreciated. I love them sm like not everyone has to fall in love you know? but anyways please don’t let that scare you off it’s still cute and fluffy I promise

“The order of the torsion group of an abelian variety over a number field can be bounded in terms of the dimension of the variety and the number field,” you heard someone say from the row behind you. You, along with the entire class - professor included - turned to look at the person who answered the question. Everyone was a little shocked to end up laying eyes on a guy who practically looked like a kid. He shifted uncomfortably, making you smile. He was definitely wildly awkward, wildly smart, and wildly cute. You liked him instantly.

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Phil x Reader - Just Another Day With Phil

A/N: I got a lot of requests for Phil’s 4th prompt, here ya go!

I sigh as I hear the birds chirping and see the light peek in through the window. Turning over, I see my boyfriend and his black hair in a jumble that makes me giggle a bit. His eyes are shut as light pink lips are closed and his entire face is relaxed. This allows me to just admire the pure contrasting features of Phil Lester.
Probably hearing my giggles, Phil’s eyes open up slowly and sleepily, yawning.
He was a giant yet looked like a toddler waking up.
“What are you giggling about?” His voice was a bit deep but still sweet as I grinned at him.
“Your hair.” I said happily curling myself closer in Phil’s arms.
“Huh- oh what?” Phil said in surprise poutingly after he caught a glimpse in the dresser mirror.
“It’s cute though, I like the quiff.” I smiled looking up at him as he cringed.
He groaned, “I can’t even see properly but it seems awful.”
I rolled my eyes and ran my hand through his warm hair and kissed him on his lips. He accepted and smirked wrapping his hands around my waist as I laid my face on his chest comfortably.
“I love you Phil, but I’m surprised you’re not grouchy without your cup of coffee.” I said confused by being held by the most important person in my world. Not that I was complaining.
“Waking up next to you, I have to reason to be grouchy.” He whispered before nipping at my ear.
I shrugged and huddled closer to him.
Phil drew circles all around my back, tracing the outline of my spine and back. I felt his steady breath and caught a glimpse of a morning shadow that made him that much more organically fresh. After simmering in each’s other embrace for more than a while more, the sun became even more prominent.

Phil turned his head over looking at the clock trying to make out a time but I knew there was no way.
“I’m quite blind y/n. I need to go put on my eyes. Then we’ll get breakfast.”
I laughed at his blind comment because it was oh so true, and nodded.
“I’ll go get ready,” I said as Phil lifted up the duvet. Before he could leave me, I kept a reach on his freckly arm and pulled him back. He turned his head and already knew exactly what I wanted, but still he seemed quite pleased that I wanted it with his morning breath. He went back over to kiss me, his morning scent was cozy and the kiss loving as always.
I finished getting ready pretty quickly just brushing my teeth and changing, so I decided to go get breakfast sorted.
Obviously I made coffee because Phil could only go so long, and poured the Crunchy Nut cereal for the both of us.
“Ah!” I heard Phil shout from the bathroom and I stopped. Oh no what has he gotten himself into now?
“Phil? Are you alright?!” I called to be met with silence for a few seconds.
“Yeah–just my contact fell! It’s okay though… I think!” I laughed at his dorky-ness and continued to bring the bowl over to the living room.

Phil met me in there and smiled, probably only because he saw the coffee.
“Thank you y/n.”
“No problem, what you wanna watch?” I asked knowing the answer was anime, but the question was which one.
Phil picked and we ended up watching it until Phil needed to do some work and I as well. He made some calls, wrote emails and looked over video ideas.
I went on my laptop to check emails, finish and finalize a project and then maybe a wee Tumblr break.
In between, I heard a weird animal like sound coming from Phil’s desktop as I sat from the couch.
“What’s that?” I asked surprised at the weird sounds.
“y/n! Come here look at the giraffes mating!” I didn’t even react because I was used to this and just walked over to see the mating giraffes.
“You’re such a weird dork.” I told him and he scoffed.
“Correction, I’m your weird dork.” Phil said sassily correcting me with his cute little giggle after.
I kissed him the lips agreeing completely,
“You’re right and I love it.”

Phil made me lunch afterwards and then we returned back to our business, of course it wasn’t without some odd back and fourth conversations. Did they invent colors or did someone have to see it first?; Is the Moon hot or cold?; Should Phil buy this shirt?; those questions were just the few as Phil and I laughed backed at each other’s responses.

Towards 7PM, we decided to order some takeaway and cuddled on the couch. Phil’s tall giant legs are spread out while I clung to his lap. My body was cold so I had a blanket draped around me but Phil was perfectly fine playing a Final Fantasy game. I watched him mindlessly and smiled happily and content. I basically fell asleep but before I could fully doze off, Phil lightly tapped me.
“y/n, y/n? Are you awake?” Phil said as the end screen of his game played in his silhouette.
I stirred and turned before muttering, “No,
He chuckled and turned off the game, then scooped me up in his.
“It’s time for you to go to sleep missy.” Phil said carrying into our bedroom. He grabbed some sleep clothes for me and I threw them on yawning.
“Who even plays for that long?” I murmured confused and sleepy.
“Me, your boyfriend. Thanks for hanging out with me while I did. Telling your sweet random nothings.”
I giggled at his statement, “I did not!”
“Oh yes you did, random thoughts and also you sleeptalk.” Phil said while he took off his t-shirt to change for bed.
“More like sleep mumble.” I said falling into our comfortable soft bed.
“Also, you’re welcome. I’d hang out and watch do whatever because you’re weird dork,” I slurred my words before shouting the next part, “And I love you Phil Lester!!!!”
Phil’s eyes widened at my loud proclaim but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
“y/n! There’s people sleeping!” Phil tried to say calmly but it was probably hilarious watching his sleepy girlfriend scream she loved him.
“Oh oops.” I yawned throwing my head back down into my pillow.
“But,” Phil said as he crawled into bed and tucked us both in, “I love you too y/n y/l/n.”
He kissed me and I melted to float away into another dreamlike state. The thing was my current state right now was already a dream. Phil Lester is my boyfriend and this was just another day in my relationship, another blissful and fun day with my weird dork.


The votes are in and Tiny Jason has been requested so teeny bitty Jason being a precious cinnamon roll is what you get. This was initially a response to a hc ask that ended up 3,000 words. Jason is a mix of cutie Pre-death Robin Jason with that good ole street smartass-ness we have come appreciate in our little bird. Warning: Jason is so tiny and I made little squawking noises writing this.

Twelve year old Jason Todd, newly minted Wayne son, knew this was a bad idea but he just couldn’t stop himself. He knows that this would get him in trouble one day in the not too distant future but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He could feel the desire coursing through his veins, compelling him into Bruce’s study, past the grandfather clock and down into the Batcave for the prize he sought. It kept him up at night, this fantasy that he let himself live out occasionally, and he could never rest properly until he did it just for a little bit. Ok yeah so he had a bit on an addiction, it’s not like it was all that unusual in this place. And besides, what Bruce didn’t know couldn’t hurt him and it’s not like Dick was using the old Robin suit anymore. And it was practically a crime to let that iconic costume get dusty behind glass.

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