approaching lines

“Darwin may have been quite correct in his theory that man descended from the apes of the forest, but surely woman rose from the frothy sea, as resplendent as Aphrodite on her scalloped chariot.”
A Moodboard for Mermaids

Day 16: Mythological Creature

anonymous asked:

I work in a grocery store. *customer approaches my line* Me: How are you tod- Customer: Marlboro lights in a box. Me: Okay. *doesn't move yet* How are you today? Customer: ...good Me: That's good! *gives smile* *finally grabs cigarette key and gets cigarettes* I am a petty worker.


Yuuri Katsuki vs Tatsuki Machida

1. Compulsory figures -  formerly an aspect of the sport of figure skating, from which the sport derives its name. By tracing figures on the ice, the skater can improve power, quickness, edge control, and extension. Compulsory figures do not longer exist, they are now part of the skating skills elements. Tatsuki Machida used to go “back to basics” and practice compulsory figures before training his quadruple toeloop jumps. In the anime “Yuri!!! on Ice”, the character Yuuri Katsuki is shown practicing compulsory figures. 

2. The quadruple toeloop jump - a toepick assisted jump where the skater takes off with his left foot and lands on his right foot. Before the age of 23, Tatsuki Machida had only landed two quadruple toeloop jumps in competition. Most of the male skaters use a forward 3 turn entry, and that’s how Tatsuki himself used to attempt it. This technique never worked for him so he was the only male skater in Team Japan who opted for a straight-line approach. While skating backward on an outside edge, he picked with the other toe. In his final year of competition, Tatsuki landed over 20 quads. In the anime, Yuuri Katsuki is featured using the same technique. 

Just Ana Amari problems

Rein’s ult is ready. Your ult is ready. The payload is approaching its destination. You line up, you’ve got Rein focused, you’re ready to WIN and then


RAP LINE LOVE {part 1}

Namjoon sat as the end of the fan line slowly approached. He loved meeting fans and interacting, but a part of him just wanted to go home. He had spent multiple all-nighters working with Yoongi and was ready to sleep for days. A picture of all of the guys from their earlier days was put in front of him. He smiled at the memories of their debut and the young boys not having a clue of what was ahead of them. He signed the photo and looked up to smile for the fan, when his mouth dropped.

There you were beaming, your smile was something out of a magazine. Sure, you weren’t a model, but that didn’t mean you weren’t beautiful. You had this comforting air about you and Namjoon just wanted to bask in your presence. His smile became a bit more shy as he started up a quick conversation.

What’s your name? He asked eagerly as your eyes lit up to his voice. He could feel his knees falling and thanking god that he sat on a chair. You sat in front of him.

Uhm Y/N. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear as Namjoon saw you blush. He couldn’t stop looking at you. You were just so enamoring.

Nice to meet you, have you had a good day? He smiled wider as he spoke to her. He could sense his manager coming to tap him on the shoulder and have her move on, so without warning he wrote something more on the picture. That’s my cell. Just don’t show anyone okay? He watched her look at the photo and then at him. Her face was a mix of confusion and elation.

Okay! Thank you so much! You smiled wider than he had ever seen someone smile and you bowed slightly before moving down the table.

Namjoon sat back in his seat for a moment, the tired feeling was no longer suppressing his every movement. Now he felt as light as a feather. Smiling to the next fan, he kept thinking of you texting him.


Yoongi was in a similar mood as Namjoon, but he was constantly in that mood. Life was always tiring and fan meets were great, but he continued to just try and make it through the last of the meet up. He signed picture after picture and seemed to have the same conversation with everyone. But then you walked up to him. You seemed to shyly ask for his signature, you were incredibly gracious when he signed the picture of the group in their debut years.

Although all the fans were gracious, you seemed different. The way you smiled and ducked your head made him chuckle to himself. You weren’t trying to shove your hands in his face or grab onto him, you made simple conversation and thanked him for his time. He didn’t feel like he had to play any sort of game or be nervous, he was just calm with you.

I want to get to know this girl. He thought to himself. Yoongi never felt this way about fans, he just never felt as though it was something worth trying, but with you there was a difference. So he looked at you.

Can I see your cell phone? Yoongi questioned and your eyes got wide. You nodded and gave him your phone. You thought maybe he was going to take a selfie, but instead, he opened up the contacts and added his number.

I put my number under Min Yoongi, not Suga, hope you don’t mind. He said as he continued to type. What’s your name? He asked.

Y/N, uhm this is kind of crazy don’t you think? You barely know me and you want me to have your number? You laughed in astonishment.

I don’t know, I feel a connection. He said simply and you continued to giggle with happiness as he handed you the phone back. You took the phone in your hands as if it were a child and placed it in your purse. The managers came by and ushered you down the line, you gave Yoongi a small wave and a smile.

Yoongi smiled to himself. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly made you so different to him, but he wanted to find out. He looked down at his phone and couldn’t wait until you texted him.


Finally you made your way to Hobi’s station. You could feel your breathing hitch and your palms get sweaty as Hobi took your picture into his hands and began to sign it. He laughed at the photo.

This is such an old photo but I have such fond memories. He looked at you and you swore for a moment that you saw a spark, you wanted to believe that your bias had just fireworks looking at you. He smiled. So what’s your name? He asked in his upbeat tone.

Y/N, what’s yours? You said then stopped. Wait, I know who you are … Oh god that makes me sound creepy and insane. I mean I’m just a big fan and I need to shut up and go! You rambled at him as he laughed.

No, no, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N, please relax, I swear I don’t bite! Hobi tried to calm you down and joke around to get you to laugh. He had met his fair share of nervous fans but none of them gave him butterflies like you. The way you blushed when he said your name, the way you smiled when he joked around, it all made him want to run around.

So who is your bias, Y/N? He asked and you seemed to go beet red. You simply gestured and pointed at him. His heart fluttered in his chest as he couldn’t contain the massive smile that graced his features. Me?! He exclaimed and laughed as you nodded. He couldn’t believe it.

Grabbing your hand, his took the sharpie in his hand and wrote his number on it. You looked down and your eyes widened so much that you were sure they were gonna pop out of your head. Holding your hand close to your heart, you tried to form sentences, but nothing came out, just a lot of opening and closing your mouth.

Text me sometime, okay? Hobi looked at you as he said this and his eyes sparkled. You wanted to scream, but you simply nodded and walked away.

Hobi smiled wider as you walked down to the end of the table. He couldn’t contain his excitement as he thought of just talking to you. 


Staring at your phone, you realized just how much craziness had happened while you went to the meet up. You talked to your idols, laughed, and smiled with them. But you also got 3 of their numbers. Your hands were shaking as you thought about texting them. One in particular was making you go weak at the knees. Hobi.

But what the fuck do I even say?! You screamed at yourself, startling your uber driver. You apologized quickly and looked down at your phone again.

Quickly pulling up a groupchat, you went to text your two best friends.

Author’s Note: I know that this can be unbelievable, but I think it will be fun
Hard Brexit is making the case for Scottish independence | John Harris
Politics in England has become mean, callous and small-state, marginalising the values of most Scots. Who wouldn’t want to leave that behind?
By John Harris

John Harris examines how Hard Brexit is going to help split Scotland from the United Kingdom as the Tory governments refuses to heed the concerns of the Scottish people and their wish to remain in the European Union.

Notably Labour failure to challenge the hard-line approach of Theresa May’s Hard Brexit is going to additionally help the cause of Scottish independence.

As John Harris notes:

Today, the government’s vision of Brexit surely makes that argument a thousand times more vivid. Meanwhile, as the Labour party meets hard Brexit with the whitest of flags, it becomes even more obvious that Scotland can leave behind the worst kind of consensus politics, leading in the worst of all directions. Who wouldn’t grab that chance with both hands?

the reason i don't settle anymore

is simple because guys don’t settle for females, every guy has an idealistic type they go for. if your dealing with someone and you like each other but for some reason he’s not trying to commit then sorry your not his type, your just convenient at the moment.

 I always felt like guys were always attracted to me but what was missing? NOTHING, i was there until someone better came along.  

i always used to preach about this to my friends  When i read “Ho Tactics” and he stated “Every man has his own taste when it comes to attraction, and just because he thinks your cute doesn’t mean he’s willing to put his feelings on the line by approaching you”. And there it is i knew i wasn’t stupid. 

Pay attention to his WCWs or his ex gfs, all that really does matter. Now don’t get me wrong some guys aren’t that superficial but lets be real most of them are. At the end of the day, you need to let these guys know how you feel and discuss what exactly what you want from the situation. make sure your on the same page before things goes to far. 


Finn wore his headphones at the grocery store, drumming his fingertips on the edge of his shopping cart when he approached the checkout line. He pulled out an earbud when he started to put his purchases on the conveyer belt, greeting the employee. His eyes shifted casually from his carton of eggs to a magazine that wore his best friend’s name and, while, recently, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, Finn looked long enough to see the headline. His heart fell in a sort of hallow weakness and his pulse raged in his neck. Numbly, he added the magazine to the row of groceries that migrated down the belt, and – with his mind buzzing – Finn was home in ten minutes. He balanced his paper bag in one arm, magazine in the hand that opened their apartment door. “Micah?” Finn called out, his gaze landing distractedly on the magazine again. 

anonymous asked:

Hey sexy gypsy! Tell me ... You must have tons of guys hitting on you along the years. What kind of men gets you? Or what catches your eye in a man for the first time? Which kind of pickup line or approach works on you? I'm not talking about about Mickey here or even love. I'm talking about your single life as a sexy, healthy man who once in a while would enjoy a good sex or a noncommittal short relationship.

I like bad boys. I know that Mickey is s bad boy but I can’t help it, the look just catches my eye.

I’m not sure about pickup lines, but I like confidence and that would also get my attention.

Mickey is the first relationship that I have had since my boyfriend died so I was attracted to all my other guys on looks mostly.

Inspired by the Trespasser DLC trailer. Hopefully a little bit of something for everyone :D

You fall in battle.

Despite what the bards sang in taverns after you defeated Corypheus, the Herald of Andraste does occasionally fall. Sometimes it’s from getting struck by a broadsword, or being caught unaware by an assassin, or reaching for a health potion too late, but it does happen.

It’s not that unusual.

Too brash, Cassandra has chided you for the past three years, echoing the words of her instructors. She has held her sword tighter, one eye on you as you stumble, the other on the approaching enemies. A permanent line of worry has edged its way between her brows—it was once occasional, but fighting next for so many years has made the line constant.

Bull has helped you up more times than you can count. Well, you use the term help loosely. He more of gripped your waist, or an arm, or whatever he could get a hold of, and hauled you to your feet until you were standing on solid ground again. Then, he would always ask so quietly that you had to strain to hear him over the sound of battle, “You okay, boss?”

Sera always cackled when you fell to the ground. Her laugh cut through the battlefield, straight to your heart like her arrows. She laughed and would say some smart comment about Heralds and Andraste and arses. She giggled, because at times it felt like just you and her against the whole damn world and you had to get back up. When you did, Sera would always be next to you with a fresh arrow hitched and ready.

You know Blackwall is halfway across the battlefield. He meets his enemies head on. Yet, in the past, when you were inevitably struck down, he appeared by your side almost instantly. Too fast for a man in full plate armor. He dug his armored boots into the soil and held his shield high in front of you both. He made damn sure that not one Red Templar, Venatori, or whatever the hell you fought that day touched you until you were good and ready to hold your own weapon again.

Dorian used to watch you fall. A flicker of emotion would pass across his perfect face, and then his staff and arms moved furiously. A purple haze surrounded you, and the enemies you had struck down rose up to lend their aid. “Well, don’t just sit there,” he would boom across the field. There would be sweat on his brow. Later, he’d claim it was because the Hissing Wastes were too hot, or that his body must have been over compensating for the cold Southern weather, or that he had been working hard to keep a fool like you alive. But you knew then, as you know now, that it was worry.

As you lay in the mud now, you think of the number of times Cullen had drilled you on watching your left flank. You two spent so many evenings together, so many dusks that turned into dawns without either one of you noticing. You would both stand in the training fields of Skyhold, sweat dripping down your back and his. Your Commander would correct your stance with a firm word, and you would get in a good hit that would make him wince and smile. Somehow, he always knew exactly how you fell in the last battle, even though you made sure to not include it in any of your reports.

Josephine will be worried when she finds that you fell. You do feel guilty for that. When you’ve returned to Skyhold in the past, bruised and cut and limping, she’s thrown her arms around you tightly while murmuring to be more careful. You smile now, thinking of how her quill runs across the edge of her parchments as she requisitions new armor, better health potions, more materials for weapons, anything to give you the edge in battle. Anything to ensure that next time you return to Skyhold, she will be able to hug you without you hissing in pain, hiding behind a smile.

And Solas…it has been so long since Solas fought next to you, yet you need not strain to remember what he would do. A barrier would spring up around you. You’re not sure where he found the extra energy—he fought as hard as everyone and was just as exhausted—yet no matter how far away you two were, no matter how many enemies separated the both of you, he knew when you fell. And he protected you in what ways he could.

Yes, you always seemed to get back on your feet. You would always stand up again, with your companions surrounding you.

But this time, it feels different.

This time, when you fall, it’s not because of an invisible assassin, a Red Templar crushing you beneath a sword, or a Venatori agent encasing you in ice. This time, when you fall, it’s because the anchor that had been confined to your hand has spread to your arm and you can feel nothing but the biting, nipping pain shooting throughout your body.

You collapse more than fall. Your legs give out and you are laying in the mud, curling into yourself. You do not care that you’re surrounded. You do not care that there is no time for the pain because it’s all that you can feel.

Is this the end? After defeating Corypheus, after building up the Inquisition, after all the wars and crisis you have avoided, all the laughter and tears you have shared, is this how it ends? Cradling your hand in a pool of mud?

You hardly notice the bodies falling around you. The grunts of excursion. The cries of, “Inquisitor, Inquisitor!”

You don’t see the enemies thinning out, the flurry of movements. Your eyes are shut tight and hot tears prickle the edges. Hot like the pain in your body. Hot like a sword straight from the forge, or lightning dancing across your skin, or the pierce of a dagger between your ribs.

Someone is shaking you. You can feel the warmth of their body around you. Surrounding you. Comforting you. They are trying to bring you back, trying to clear your mind. Their caress is softer than an enemy’s and more tender than a friend’s.

Then you feel your lover’s hot breath against your face, feel their lips form your name as they whisper it over and over again like a piece from the Chant, and you finally breathe.

The anchor pains you, weighs you down. But you draw strength from your lover’s warmth and from their lips. You force your eyes open. Blood and demon guts and who knows what else cover you both. But there’s a grin on your lover’s face that’s reflected on your own, because you both are together at the end.

You stumble to your feet with their support. They hold one side of you, your arms entwined with one another, not to be parted again. They hold their weapon in their right hand, and you hold the flaring anchor out before you with your left.

You always get back on your feet. You always stand up again.

And you will be damned if you let one enemy strike your lover down while you still live. Whatever has happened in the three years since you met, you will fight through your enemies together.

And you both will live.

By an Inch! - starter for


The crowd was going crazy as the last leg of the race was blazing forward. Head-to-head were the first two cars the third one not far behind. The rest had either crashed or exploded.

Outcrier screeched into his mic the every move of the vehicles as they approached the finish line. “They’re neck and neck, folks! Who will win!?” Everyone cheered for their favored car. As they crossed the line the roar of the people was deafening. “THE WINNER IS- JUNKEATER!”

The man in question jumped out of his car and laughed loudly, spinning and bowing- taking in everything. The spotlight was quickly taken by the Outcrier once more, however, his charismatic time bringing the attention back to him. “Aha-! And there you have it! Junkeater wins another race! All bets are now doubled- losers beware, heads will role of ya’ can’t pay!”

He cackled and the people began to slowly funnel back out into the town. Outcrier sighed and turned to the Lectricy boy behind him, “Alright, shut the lighties down.” The boy nodded and turned off the generator, moving to make way for the showman as he stalked to a chair and plopped down. Races always took the energy right out of him. Heavy footsteps on the stairs alerted him and he looked to where they were coming from.

holysight  asked:

❛ Hah—!! Alert the gods, you ACTUALLY told me a joke, my liege! ❜ Marx's title rolls off with a certain mocking edge, his smug expression worse than usual. Well, they luckily had free time, & two bottles ( ...or three ) of wine lingering around found themselves miraculously in their hands! ( Carelessness got into them as they reminisced old times. ) Why, better make the most of it!

      glower makes itself known as he narrows his eyes, struggling to suppress the urge to laugh.   “   it’s a good joke, i like to think – but apparently certain bluehaired vassals don’t appreciate the breadth of my humor.     marx is not a lightweight – or so he believes. he’s approaching the dangerous line where the alcohol is starting to taste like water, and that is not very good at all, but at least it dispels the cold of camping in the corners of nohr’s territory. 

        still, the grumpy frown he shoots sigurd dissipates as easily as the wind, and he breaks out into a laughter that sounds all too genuine. gloved hand finds itself on his old friend’s shoulder, squeezing to steady himself and assure his friend that no, he is not drunk. for once, he’s glad that this mission only involved the two of them.   — good to have you here, sigurd. even if you don’t think my jokes are funny. why don’t you try to tell one and have it fall MISERABLY flat?  

people on the wards

I just finished a block of wards, and will start another one soon. I mostly love outpatient medicine and mostly loathe inpatient medicine, but you don’t get to be a good doctor without seeing really sick patients. That requires seeing inpatients, and I will leave IM residency a fully-trained hospitalist whether I like it or not. 

 The thing I struggle with most is the sort of assembly-line approach to hospital medicine. Get them in and out as fast as possible and hope to never see them again. It’s difficult to develop relationships with patients under those circumstances.  Difficult, but not impossible. And the relationships forged in the intensity of more serious illnesses can be very lovely. 

As I left the service I have been on, I stopped to say goodbye to one family in particular. The patient stood up to give me a hug, and I realized I had never seen him stand before; I was surprised by how tall he is. His wife started to cry and I pulled her into a group hug. This all happened in the presence of a telephone interpreter, by the way. We had really bonded deeply without ever speaking the same language. At the end of my time with him, though, he made a point of learning a few important words. As I hung up the phone and went to leave, he grabbed my hands again and said the only English words I ever heard from him: 

 "Thank you, Doctor.“

Look at the Golden Cat courtesans alone. Especially compared to the treatment of sex workers in other games. They feel like they’re people, with lives and personality. They’re not just animated mannequins there to look sexy like in the Witcher 3 or GTA. There was clearly respect in the approach. They have voice lines, not just to say alluring things to the PC or clients. I seem to remember one with a client and he was asleep? There are two women in the bathroom privately doing their makeup and talking about Emily. They pass the bechdel test by themselves. The two quietly dancing together, not even in a sexualised way, just swaying back and forth. Arkane included sex worker background characters and treated them with respect as people. Which is pretty good feminism as far as I’m concerned.