as an image is so pretentious

i think a really important thing to note from this is that harry would always take the opportunity to uplift others rather than himself. From a direct quote, he said, “if i can kind of do as well as the other boys, that would be great.” the image so many people have about him is he’s this pretentious popstar who decided he would be better than his roots. Once you actually know what harry thinks, it becomes glaringly obvious that he is always grateful for everything he learned throughout his life so far. He always emphasizes the achievements of others rather than his own, and uses that to push him as all to be better. Harry is the kindest most grateful person i know and we really don’t deserve him.

anonymous asked:

What image do you think he's trying to achieve? You mention that he's trying hard to look a certain way and to get there we are seeing a bunch of back and forth, but tbh I am having trouble identifying what is the image he wants.

I honestly am having a hard time too

I think he’s trying really hard to be a rockstar, and he’s trying to do the whole ‘sex drugs and rock and roll’ thing, and he’s achieving that with a lot of songs about women and sex, but then he’s also like “I’M GAY I’M GAY LOOK @ ME IM GAY”, and then he gets like super “deep” and to me it comes off a bit pretentious, but then he gets all humble again with dorky opinions and I feel like he’s being honest and open and “real”

so it honestly feels like he’s got on a bunch of pieces from a bunch of different outfits and he’s not sure a) how to put them together cohesively or b) which one he actually wants to wear

anonymous asked:

I really just adore how Harry's promo goes. It's so apologetically himself, all pink and soft and gorgeous and vulnerable, so far away from his "bad boy" and "pretentious asshole" images. I'm so happy he does what he wants and he can express himself freely.

IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM!!! 😭😭😭

I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while we eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.

anonymous asked:

GIVE ME ALL YOUR SAD TSUKISHIMA HEADCANONS HERE. TEAR THAT BOY APART FOR ME BB

《Thank you so much for requesting this, okay. It gets gradually happier as the list goes on, by the way, so the whole thing isn’t a terrible sob fest… ALSO DISCLAIMER TRIGGER WARNING FOR ANYONE WHO IS UNCOMFORTABLE TOWARDS THE TOPICS OF AN ED OF ANY SORT OR SELF HARM》


- Tsukishima would only ever admit his struggles of he was very, very close to you, even then he would have trouble. It’s something he’s very self conscious about, something that still haunts him and lingers in the shadows of his mind. It all started when he was 12, or 13 maybe. Still numb from the tragic betrayal of his brother, he only got more and more distant by the day. Those dark feelings mixed with his arising teenage hormones we’re not a good mix for his overall mental health. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder began eating at him far before an ED even came into play. They conjured up thoughts of failure, thoughts of perfection, and soon enough, everything in Tsukishima’s life had to be perfect, perfect, perfect. He had to get exactly a 100% on his Algebra test, he had to clean his room for exactly 30 minutes, he had to do everything exact. Everyone he was close to had began to think it was just a temporary inferiority complex. People would say, “of course he doesn’t care about that, he’s a teenager” and “teenagers tend to ignore a lot of things” but even if Tsukishima didn’t completely understand the situation he was in, he knew it wasn’t just a ‘teenager thing’. His mother brought him to a psychiatrist once or twice, and despite the fact that he was, in fact, diagnosed, his mother was in denial, and so was everybody else he knew. Of course, his mother meant well, but needless to say, she thought it was just a phase. In real life, not that many people could see past his pretentious persona, but the people who squinted through those translucent walls of his could sense that something was up. Yamaguchi, especially.
Eventually, those thoughts of perfection had moved onto something bigger than grades and friendships, his body. He began counting every calorie he ate, every pound he lost. He had an image in his mind that screamed, “perfection” and he would do anything to achieve that. Numbers were slowly becoming the center of his life, and from the time he woke up, to the time he went to bed, all he could think about was numbers. His OCD and inferiority complex are things that are still prominent in his life, even to this day, but his ED was always something that fluctuated. For a long time, he didn’t even realize he was starving himself, and what he was doing was classified as a very tragic mental problem. It only came to his realization in his last year of middle school in health class, while the teacher was discussing disorders teens had. “Anorexia Nervosa”, a slide up on the board that was colored a putrid green, had gotten his attention, fast. He noticed the faces of some girls, how they looked nervously down at their feet as the teacher continued his rambles. He wanted to reach out to them, ask them if they were ok, but brushed it off. If you had asked him what he thought of that disorder in that moment, he would have said it’s “A stupid feminine issue, and they can rot, for all I care.”
But he really did care.
This word, “Anorexia”, had put the past two years of his life in perspective. It explained everything.
And it hurt.
He still continued his tendencies, growing more and more attached to it now that he knew it was a real, his problem was real and therefore it had meaning. He slowly grew bulimic, as well. When he ate 635 calories instead of his perfect 500, he learned to well, just puke it up. Slowly slowly, Tsukishima started to decay. At 6’0 he was only 125 pounds, and people he knew started growing concerned, but he didn’t care. He only got worse by the day, his forms of self harm growing more and more destructive.
Since then, Tsukishima has healed, but those thoughts of perfection and deterioration still linger on his skin and in his mind. Yamaguchi, although he knows very well of the way Tsukishima thinks, still doesn’t know what went down in middle school, and Tsukishima never intends on letting him know. The only two people who know, besides his family, is Kuroo, Akaashi and Daichi.
Daichi found out when they were changing one day. He noticed the scars on his arm and thighs and couldn’t help but ask, because if there was anything going on with one of his most valuable teammates, he sure as hell was going to fix it. He more or less milked the answer out of him, but now that he knows, he’s a lot more understanding of him than the other teammates. Kuroo found out while they were in gym three. Bokuto had brought some snack into the gym, and while Tsukishima really did heal, scars crack open. The thoughts come scampering back sometimes, and on this day in particular, they flooded his mind. Kuroo, being Kuroo, was oblivious to the situation at hand, teasing him about the fact that he was ‘so skinny’ and ‘really needed that food’. Akaashi, however, was not so simple minded. He had taken note of the way Tsukishima reacted towards things during the time he had spent at the camp. Akaashi’s good at analyzing people, and he analyzed Tsukishima in the same way he does Bokuto. In that moment, Tsukishima wasn’t as pissed as he was upset, and whist Kuroo chased after him in attempts to apologize, Tsukishima spilled.
These thoughts only ever haunt him once or twice every couple months, and they’re never strong enough to consume him. Although, raging thoughts of perfection still dwell in that crowded mind of his. After the Shiratorizawa match, where he said there’s no reason anyone should be proud, for he had only blocked one spike, that was the inferiority. His mind is a hurricane of wanting more, more, more, and not wanting anything at all. He wants to try, he has goals and morals and standards, but insecurity drags those down and makes him think that nothing matters. He’s working on it, he is, but Tsukishima has come to terms with who he is, and changing who he is is something he’s done with doing.

- He’s always cared about volleyball, from the day he met Hinata for the first time to the moment he blocked Ushijima’s spike. Although, despite the many times has he said that “this is just a club” and “what’s the point in trying if somebody’s always going to be better?” he still tries. Although he may not be giving it all like Hinata or Kageyama, he’s still trying. If he really didn’t care, thought of it as just some stupid club, do you think he’d really still be involved? After Akiteru’s betrayal, he could’ve just abandoned it completely. He could’ve easily played basketball, with that height of his, or joined any other club if he wanted to, but he stuck with volleyball. I believe if Yamaguchi were to confront him earlier, ask him “if you didn’t care at all, why are you still here?” he wouldn’t be able to give a proper answer. He says there’s no point in trying if somebody’s always going to be better, but he just doesn’t want to get too attached to it, like his brother was.

- Truth is, he doesn’t like getting close to anything, these days, and that’s why ever since the accident he’s been colder towards Yamaguchi. He doesn’t want to let people or things into his life, because anything that can’t benefit him in any way could hurt him. It happened with his brother, it happened with volleyball. He keeps people out in any way he can. Tsukishima is not an asshole. He wants other people to believe he’s an asshole, though, so they don’t stick around him. When he’s being genuine, he’s shy. When he asks people questions, he has his head down, hands interlaced. He doesn’t like opening up to people, and when he does, he’s vulnerable. He’s been betrayed, and like hell he’s ever going to let anything betray him again.

- Growing up, Kei never had a father. After his mother got pregnant with him, his father disappeared, leaving her to take care of her two boys on her own. Akiteru, being five at the time, was absolutely heartbroken by this. Even if he was five, he understood what was going on, and what was going to happen. Every time his father would leave for work, he’d refer to him as “the man of the house”, and that’s exactly what he was now. His little brother, Kei, was never going to experience having a father, so Akiteru, at five years old, decided that he was going to be the father figure for him, and that’s exactly what he grew up to be. Akiteru was pretty much a mentor for him, a role model, and that’s why he’d lie to his brother, so he’d keep setting “good examples” and trying to be a person who his brother could be proud of. In the end, it was devastating for both of them. Akiteru had lost the most important person in his life, and Kei was facing the betrayal of his superhero.

- It’s very rare that somebody comes along that Tsukishima takes a liking to. Before the whole accident, Tsukishima was already closed off. His brother even scolded him for not getting along with the other kids. Yamaguchi practically dug his way into Tsukishima’s life, and if it weren’t for him confronting the bullies, they would’ve never been friends to begin with. They probably wouldn’t have gone to the same schools, and even if they did, Yamaguchi would most likely get closer to Hinata, than anyone. Besides Yamaguchi, Tsukishima doesn’t really consider himself to have friends. Hinata and Kageyama are just teammates, and like hell he’d associate with them anywhere outside. He talks a great deal to Akaashi, but really it’s only ever about how their teams are doing, more than anything. Bokuto and Kuroo are more like mentors, and he can’t see him getting buddy-buddy with Bokuto, even if he was the one who practically helped him overcome his fear of getting too attached to volleyball. Tsukishima believes himself the next person he gets close to will definitely be his future significant other, because he just can’t see himself making new friends anytime soon.

- He has a ton of marks on his body, self inflicted, and not. He happened to grow a lot during the span of middle school, especially around the time when he had an ED. He had his greatest growth spurts during that time, and with all the chaos of gaining and losing and purging, he got stretch marks. His body was always fluctuating, and because he grew so fast, he was cursed with them on his sides, stomach, and thighs. He doesn’t like them all that much, especially since nobody else on his team has them, but what he really hates, is his scars. He regrets it more than anything, cutting himself, because when he did, he’d cut a lot, and deep. So deep he remembers seeing the white of his flesh in between the wound. Unfortunately, they didn’t heal well at all, the scar tissue a bruising purple and rougher than his skin. They’re mostly on his thighs, but he has a few littered on his hips and forearms, as well. Those ones happened to heal better, practically disappearing at this point, much to his pleasure. During the summer, he’s always a bit self conscious to go anywhere, always fearing that somebody’s going to confront him about them.

- Sometimes, especially late at night, he’ll find himself crying. Every so often he’ll throw himself into a state of existentialism, and question his existence, and everyone else’s existence, for that matter, until he gives himself a headache. He has the tendency to over think things, especially things about himself, and once he starts thinking about something inconvenient, he’ll think about it so much that he freaks himself out, until he needs reassurance that everything will be okay, or else he’ll lose it. Often times, he can assure himself, but he doesn’t believe himself. He knows it’s an annoying habit, but he’ll constantly ask his mother if she hates him, or if he’s doing okay, just because he needs to hear it out loud before believing it himself.

- When he finds himself over thinking, he’ll get out of bed and distract himself. Those dinosaur figurines are pretty much there so he doesn’t kill himself in the middle of the night. More often than not, he’ll get up, rearrange them by period, then order, family genus and species, then alphabetically until he forgets whatever was bothering him in the first place. A lot of times, his overthinking isn’t all that self destructive. When it is destructive, the dinosaurs have no chance at helping him, but when it comes to him just remembering something stupid he said in 6th grade, or a really embarrassing move he made somewhere, the dinosaurs are there to cure what ails him.

- Although he doesn’t really think of himself to be all that great, he likes writing. He has a binder, a big white one that has so many indents on the cover you couldn’t even count, and it’s filled with poems and thoughts and short stories he’s created over the past few years. He keeps his only ones mainly for the fact that he loves embarrassing himself sometimes, but a lot of them are terrifying and show a side of him that no longer exists. A lot of what he writes is just tangents, small narratives that start out neatly written and based on a theme, but end up in violent scribbles and on a topic completely different than the one he started with. It’s a way to get his feelings out without actually having to share them. Although, he might show somebody he loves the binder one day, just so they can get a glimpse at who he was in the past.

- He has hope for himself. He knows he’s still insane and sick in the mind but he’s come to terms with himself, and there’s nothing he wants more than a good future. He wants the rest of his life to be on track; graduate high school, go to a good college, get married, have kids, maybe. He knows eternal happiness is too much to ask for, but he’s just striving to be content. He wants to forever live in the feeling of having that slight weight on his shoulders, but still be able to lean back and say, “I’m free.”

notes to the types, from an INTJ.

DISCLAIMER: All of this is subjective, obviously.

ISTP:
-Stop pretending you’re an aloof ninja. You’re just a nerd. Calm down.
-Okay I know you want to learn how to throw and spin knives and that is a-okay, just don’t point it at me, seriously.
-STOP PRETENDING YOU DON’T HAVE EMOTIONS. What’s up with you and not wanting to admit that you feel things? It’s not a bad thing!
-Such nerds. succchhh nerds.
-Remember to do that thing that’s due tomorrow NOW, bc I know you’ll do it in 2 minutes before class tomorrow.
-keep track of time. Why are you so bad at this?
-Yes, what you said offended that person. Yes, they will probably accept your apology.
-You make so many noises
-Maybe make more facial expressions? You look like you want to kill someone when you’re not doing anything. But I can totally relate. Others might not get it though, so try to be a bit more expressive.

INTJ:
-Stop being an asshole.
-literally no one asked you to make everything a metaphor for suffering.
-you are NOT the nicest person I know. Don’t delude yourself. You may be understanding, but niceness is usually measured by external things, like compassion and emotion. Which you basically NEVER express.
-why do u make so many puns dear god
-??? You speak perfectly. I don’t know how. #NotAllINTJs
-yes, you’re charismatic, but it’s in an awkward way. You aren’t “the suave master”, you’re just the cute nerd. Got it?
-next time you repeatedly ask me the same question I will throw you off a cliff

ISTJ:
-how do you do so many things? I don’t have that energy.
-also, stop reading Wattpad instead of studying. You know that your grades matter more to you.
-don’t be afraid to speak your opinion just because other people won’t accept it or because you think it may disrupt the balance. Most things need to be verbalized.
-I DON’T GET WHY PEOPLE ARE SO IGNORANT EITHER. What’s up with that????
-sometimes perspectives need to shift and things just arent a useful supply of information anymore.
-get some sleep.
-grades don’t mean everything just because you were told they always mean everything.
-my cute timid sunflowers 💕

INFP:
-you’ll never be happy if you don’t pursue something you love. It doesn’t matter if someone doesn’t want you to. You matter most, in your world. Okay?
-worry about yourself more
-if you’re so worried about being organized, organize yourself. I’ll help you. It only takes 2 weeks to develop a habit, after all.
-DO. NOT. DATE. MANIPULATIVE. PEOPLE! Why??? Bbg! You always love the underdogs, but sometimes the underdogs are literal psychopaths! That is not healthy! You don’t need that kind of manipulation. Use some reasoning!
-you guys have so much creativity. Express it! People love that shit, trust me. I know I do.
-go on adventures if you want to! Might as well, yeah? It’s not going to HURT if you take a hike and draw some trees. Philosophize. It’s what makes self-realization.

ENFP:
-how. So much. So much energy. Why do you always want to go to the mall or to a party?
-no, i dont want to go anywhere, and no, it’s not because I’m being lazy.
-we should build a shed. You can keep your various stray animals there.
-why. Why are you so dependent. You don’t need to talk to your boyfriend for every minute of everyday AND update him on your status every hour.
-stop making so many “fake” friends. Just because someone compliments your shirt doesn’t mean they aren’t going to be a terrible person.
-it’s just project-project-project with you, isnt it? You don’t even finish 1/3rd of them. …i’ll still help you, though.

INFJ:
-sweetheart
-you don’t need to base your being on making others feel better. Or on making yourself fit into a ridiculously ideal image. People like you imagine just don’t exist.
-pretentious w books
-many pretentious books
-also a weeb. It goes hand-in-hand.
-find a good outlet to express your emotions.
-don’t look at the floor all the time, just because you don’t want to meet anyone’s gaze or because you want to think. Look ahead. Show some confidence, darling. You could take the world if you wanted to.
-if you don’t want life to be meaningless, find your meaning. Pursue it.

ESTJ:
-you would be cool, if you didnt have such a bias towards things you don’t even know you HAVE A BIAS towards. Yes, that’s biased. Oooh, how do I know? Let me explain.
-what society taught you isnt always what you will believe. You need to stop deluding yourself.
-stop giving TEXT-BOOK DEFINITIONS
-i gotta admit your logic is pretty solid but your BIASES, oh god the biases.
-why do u have a literal army of followers

ENFJ: *sorry! I hate the two ENFJs i know. They’re underdeveloped.*
-you make me cry. Feelings aren’t to be used in logic-fueled arguments. Don’t think they are facts.
-i dont like you for reasons. Those reasons not being “oh did i offend you”, like??? Who you trying to fight here, me, or your suppressed emotional biases??
-the amount of people who like you doesn’t equal your value! What were you thinking?
-speaking of thinking: you should THINK a lot more! Please? Think something through before you ask me an emotionally-barbed question.

INTP:
-my little fluster nerds
-always developing new things
-I always happen to get into a love-hate relationship with you; because I regard you with fascination and you feel like you’re being studied (you are, btw), and you hate feeling like you’re under a microscope. It’s okay, ill keep teasing you. Your reactions are so adorable!
-inf Fe is so cute. The responses to the stimuli. Ugh. I wanna hug you and tell you how adorable. How puppy.
-nah, nah! I don’t hate you. I’d never hate you. You’re just so INTERESTING. Tell me all about your conspiracy theories! You’re making a language? Ooh, can you teach it to me? That’s so cool! Let me contribute my ideas, too!
-YES, let’s build a sculpture. YES, let’s make english more efficient. Have you heard of that meme?-yeah, that one!
-every conversation is like a make-a-story with the contributions from both sides.
-TEAM CRINGE when people make logical fallacies

ENTP:
-high quality memers.
-most of the people I’ve had crushes on are ENTPs, un-miraculously.
-i could listen to you make up sarcastic stories for hours and never get bored
-TEAM USELESS FACTS that no one will ever use but you still have because of Wikipedia searches.
-you are hilarious. And also, very cute when flustered. Less-so than INTP, but that’s only because they only ever wanna talk about history or chemistry or their poison of choice. You will actually talk to people.
-you all have a distinct walk. It’s so odd. It’s a pattern I’m seeing, though.

I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the year’s first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while we eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.

anonymous asked:

lena is that person who pretends to be super pretentious about her music taste until she comes home and kara is listening to 1D and stuff like that and she just goes "oh thank god" and scream sings the lyrics

YES OMG I LOVE THIS SO MUH yes like she totally is used to like hiding these obsessions that ppl would think its “silly” bc shes a Luthor ™ and she has an Image ™ to keep but then like w kara she doesnt have to pretend anything and they fangirl and get excited over these things together and lena is HAPPY bc shes never had a best friend to freak out over silly things with and now she has kara and im crying so hard

anonymous asked:

Yay hcs!!! Can I request a hc of Chuuya having a pet dog???? as in what dog he would have and how he would raise into be??

Nakahara Chuuya

  • While Chuuya’s always harbored a bit of a soft spot for animals, he’s never seriously considered getting a dog. Life in the Port Mafia doesn’t exactly leave a lot of spare time to care for an animal, and he’s not one to buy a pet and then leave it locked up at home all day. The desire for a dog only really plants itself when he notices Dazai cringing back, nearly gagging, after crossing paths with a straggly mutt as they’re out on a mission. From the second Chuuya discovers Dazai’s dislike for the creatures, he’s got his mind set on a dog companion. He won’t rest until he has one suitable for bothering Dazai with.
  • Chuuya’s got his heart set on a purebred, but finds that he’s naturally drawn the to mutts and strays rather than refined dogs with a practical laundry list of pedigrees and documentation. While he arranges meetings with endless breeders offering dogs with ridiculous names, none of the animals he meets feel like a good fit. On a whim, Chuuya visits a shelter, and it’s there that he discovers his perfect match. He still insists on a regal animal with an impressive breed— a Port Mafia executive can’t just pick up any scrappy-looking stray, after all! Any dog of his must be distinguished. If any of the shelter’s dogs come with paperwork, Chuuya easily picks him over some pampered lapdog from a stuck-up breeder.
  • As far as breeds go, Chuuya prefers a Pharaoh Hound, Rhodesian Ridgeback, or Weimaraner. He’s all about appearances, and these definitely strike an impressive image. Chuuya’s not crazy about the long-haired, pretentious-looking dust mops usually favored by people with his kind of money, but these short-haired, larger beauties definitely appeal to him. 
  • Since he’s away from home so often, Chuuya doesn’t mesh well with a clingy dog. While the animal’s naturally going to miss him, it can’t hinge its entire life on Chuuya being home at six every day to play tug-of-war and toss around a tennis ball. Chuuya ensures someone’s caring for the dog while he’s gone, of course; he wouldn’t leave the animal to fend for itself, suffering through a single dish of food and water every time he leaves on a Port Mafia trip.
  • Any puppy of Chuuya’s grows up to be almost a carbon copy of his master. Chuuya’s dedicated to training it well and rewarding it with only the finest treats, so it learns an appreciation for hard work and refined living. While the dog doesn’t hesitate when it comes to performing tricks and other tasks, it’s quite the snob. Like Chuuya, the canine’s incredibly particular about everything from its food to its bed. It flat-out refuses to snack on anything except for top-of-the-line, ridiculously expensive dog food, and if its blanket isn’t folded exactly right it won’t even lay down. The animal’s eager to please, but far less eager to be pleased.
  • Chuuya’s dog is nothing if not fiercely protective. It’s ready to snap someone’s limbs off if they dare to even knock on Chuuya’s door too hard. Any intruders immediately find out sneaking into Chuuya’s place was not a good idea; Dazai’s had a chunk ripped out more than once trying to infiltrate Chuuya’s home to prank him. (Normally, the dog isn’t allowed to bite, but whenever it nibbles on Dazai Chuuya lets the animal sleep in his bed with him for a night.)
  • When the animal’s a puppy, Chuuya commissions a collar for it that matches his choker. While he’s teased endlessly for matching his dog, Chuuya thinks his hound’s quite handsome and refuses to be dissuaded. Chuuya will match his dog until they’re both dead.

anonymous asked:

</3 will there be a follow-up happy hand job? :(

I did happen to notice a trend in the feedback I received regarding the last picture I posted, so you’ll be comforted to know you weren’t the only one feeling conflicted about it, dear Anon:

While I do enjoy creating art that gives viewers pause and makes them think about my intent behind the image, I didn’t start this blog because I love torturing everyone’s favorite strategist—I did it because Ignis Scientia is far and above my favorite character that has ever come out of a video game in recent memory, Final Fantasy or otherwise. I aim to continue exploring the multi-faceted depths of his personality and the tragedy that defines him as arguably the real hero of FFXV, but I’m not so intellectually pretentious as to withhold some good ol’ fashion, raunchy Ignis eye candy for my followers to devour.

So if you or anyone else was struggling to reconcile feelings of melancholy with the weird tingling in your nether regions upon viewing my last post, never fear! You can bet your Gysahl Greens that there’ll be plenty of—ahem—happy endings for Specs in days to come. Maybe not today tho cause I really have to get some work done that Ignis DLC ain’t going to pay for itself

anonymous asked:

How do you make the art that you do like the colleges and such it's impressive and pretty

this is so nice thank you ! idk how much detail you want me to go into lmao but i’ve been trying to perfect the art of collaging for 2yrs and although i try not to over think it i’ve noticed some running themes so … here they are in a handy list of bullet points with an example of a collage i did in 2014 to help explain stuff ! this collage was for my a-level so it’s more arty and serious than the stuff i make now but i still use roughly the same techniques

  • try and pick a general colour scheme and carry it through the piece. pink, black, yellow and white … very nice colours go 18yr old me
  • balance the collage ! i put a lot of yellow in the bottom left so i balanced it out by putting some in the top right. i did some little black lines/circles in the top left so i did some more in the bottom right. at the time this wasn’t a conscious decision but it’s become super important to my collages
  • use different sized things. the pink rectangle is big, the birds are medium size, there’s a few smaller eyes, some tiny circles, big open scribbles, TINY splashes of paint. if you don’t do the tiny detailed stuff it looks empty and unfinished which is shit 
  • change up your edges. for example the edges of the pink bit are straight so the paper under the eye (top right) is ripped. this collage is a shit example but if you look at anything more recent i’ve done it’s way more obvious. cutting around shapes (flowers, people, birds, mary berry) looks very nice as well so that’s always a good idea  
  • messy is good ! this piece is a bit messier/artier than i normally go now but it was SERIOUS ART and not ‘something to make and post on the world wide web whilst watching antm’ so forgive me. but messy is cool and interesting so don’t be afraid to go for it
  • mix patterned materials with plain materials. again this is a shit example because this was before the days of using old maps and patterned tape but mixing block colours with nice patterns helps stop it being either very boring or very overwhelming
  • mix text and images. not essential but personally my fave thing to do. two duyvenbode’s lories with the words ‘duyvenbode’s lory’ … true artistic genius. this can also determine how seriously people will take your art, for example writing “urgent matter ! the sausages go off saturday 18th” will not make people take you and your art seriously 

SORRY THIS WAS LONG i got carried away lmao. i know this is so pretentious but collaging is 90% about instinct and improvising and there’s tons of different ways to collage so feel free to ignore me ! but if you’ve ever been collaging and thought “wwdwd” (what would demii whiffin do) this is your unnecessarily long answer ! thank you and goodnight

day three hundred & sixty one. “The cover of the new ‘Say You Will’ (album) has Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks lying prostrate, facing opposite directions with feet spilling off the top and bottom of the shot, in a visual nod to the iconic final image of Masahiro Shinoda’s 'Double Suicide’. Does it seem pretentious for a band whose biggest radio hit is still the sunny 'Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow’ to draw parallels to the doomed lovers in a classic of Japanese cinema? It shouldn’t because no pop act exemplifies the rock-band-as-suicide-pact so perfectly as Fleetwood Mac. Buckingham and Nicks must glance across the stage at each other night after night, thinking over their years as lovers, as enemies and as mutually-indifferent playthings of fate, and pondering, with alternate bemusement and fury, the full and terrifying implications of the phrase 'till death do us part’”. Steve Hanna, 2003.

sobeautifullyobsessed  asked:

Dusky, I swore I saw a post earlier today where you said you enjoyed doing edits with more than one figure in them--but it seems to be gone now (could've sworn I "liked" it). If the offer is open, I'm thinking of a series with BC in his dark-haired roles (Strange, Khan, Ace, modern Sherlock, Victorianlock, Richard/The Hollow Crown II). I adore his hair in all it's magnificent permutations, but the dark hair really gets to me--a male standard of beauty that goes back to my childhood. Thanks! xx

lol I deleted it I have no idea why. I think I thought it might have been pretentious but apparently not \o/ I would LOVE to do these as composites. I’m on a little diving holiday right now but will address this as soon as I get back to Sydney.

and so i repeat my offer :-) that I love doing cumber-composite images so if anyone has other themes I’d be happy to oblige ❤️

anonymous asked:

I'm at the point where I basically don't care what the lies are anymore as far as Harry's image goes. It's all image, all of it I know, but he is doing his best to convince me that it's the REAL him so, CONGRATS, I now do. He stopped being the friendly quirky dry sense of humor Harry from 1D and turned into a pretentious asshole who believes his own hype that he is God/a musical legend & who doesn't give a shit about fans. (Yep, I'm not letting slide he hasn't thanked fans at all, that's BS)

Hi anon! This was sent in the midst of the Rolling Stone article freak out and as you can probably tell, I agree with you. Here are some other messages sent around the same time.

That dude is kidding us. Tweet a link about louis and wear rainbow pin to hype up the larries and then yeah my album is abt kendall. He is like louis pic and pride pin for the larries, now buy the song and then with the mag this for haylor hendall shippers now buy the song. Like come on.

And…

As far as I’m concerned, it’s the same old bs. If H is closeted, it’s of his own choosing, which is fine it’s his choice. But the idea that the real H is tied up somewhere duct taped is ridiculous at this point. Or we were just wrong about him. Either way, he chose this team, chose the RS article (Please talk about Kendall), and the way they are promoting him.

He chose this team!

anonymous asked:

1) The contrast between the image of zayn and harry is awesome, zayn releases very few interviews never seen, he lets talk the music, let's say it ZZayn is as beautiful as a god singing like an angel and it's so cool i do not look at him For more than thirty seconds without blushing intently like a little timid high school little girl, could do everything from the model to the painter and yet somehow in this world of mirrors and smoke and snakes dressed as lambs he managed to remain real,

2) shy also, you see immediately that he is not pretentious or false sometimes he says uncomfortable things but he is himself and he does not take shit from anyone, in this last few months I learned that the one that was sold as the goofy Innocent smiling white boy is actually a cold calculator, hungry for fame and ready to do anything in order ti get it,and the mysterious,silent the problematic one is actually a talented artist, shy and despite his beauty his voice, his success

3) he has the terror of performing live, fuck off harry,whit your horrible gucci clothes,the guitar you can not play,your pompous pretentious friends,the daily murder of the seventies rock,your personal manager that you’ve put into the dynamics of the band like a snake, your banals hypocritical coward phrases about political affairs,i choose zayn any day, dressed in a simple white t-shirt torn jeans, with his anxiety,
————————————-

Thank you for sharing! It is funny how my perception of all the guys have changed over the last couple of years. I came into this fandom because of Larry and fell in love with their love and them as individuals. It started to upset me when I saw Harry pulling away, hire his own stylist and wore clothes designed to set him apart from the rest.

Then yachtgate and I was done.

Watching Louis endure everything he had to with such dignity and grace has made me forever his fan.

Zayn and MOM blew me away and I still love singing PT as loud as I can when I hear it. The more I get to know him, the more I realize I missed out early on. He seems like such a great guy! Niall, oh sweet Niall. I never paid much attention to him but lately he’s reminded me of what it is to have fun being a fan. Every time I see him I smile and listening to him brings joy into my life.

And then there is Liam! I don’t think I’ve ever anticipated new music before like I am with him. He spent so much time and energy on this album. He has chosen to work with some of the most respected and creative people in this industry. I just can’t wait to hear what he’s done. 🌸

The Tao of Oh

When he raised his whip, he saw that the lash was burning. His hand as well. All of him, all of him was burning.

Oh, he thought. Then he began to scream. (ADWD, The Dragontamer)


Oh.

Oh?

Goddamn oh?

I get why people hate Quentyn. Truly, I do. (I’ve long repressed my inner Helen Seinfeld: “You’re a wonderful, wonderful boy. Everybody likes you–it’s impossible not to like you. Impossible!”)

If you’re a joylessly pure plot-watcher, if you care most about “moving things forward” because apparently a story is a train that is late to Philly, if you’re just into watching clockwork spin and you’re immune to crushing horror and desperate hope and fucking tragedy…I get that you won’t love Quent like I do. (Was that mean-spirited? Oh.)

But I get being thrown off by a character built up throughout the previous book (as GRRM did with cold4lyfe motherfuckers Stannis and Mance) like he’s a beyond-badass about to shake up the plot permanent-like, only to have him be sad and shy and sensitive, lucid and thoughtful and self-aware in a way Tyrion will never allow himself to manage, cautious where his sister races ahead, traumatized where his uncle is (was) galvanized, innocent enough to be horrified (a shaft of light in the Feast/Dance timeline, amidst all the stewing cynicism and putrid excess) but steel enough to slaughter teenagers on his way to his promised bride, the woman he fears almost as much as his father. And then he fails. So he tries something brave and stupid. And then he dies, as one tends to when doing brave and stupid things. And now he’s dead. So I get it.

But oh. Oh is a thought Quentyn thinks to himself, the very last one revealed to us. Oh is GRRM’s open monolith portal beyond the infinite, Oh is his endless corridor spangled in blood, Oh is every other Kubrick image ever analogized by a pretentious li'l persnicketer. Oh is a revelation, but of what? 

Oh: I’m going to die.

I’m going to die very, very painfully. But for this one, horribly brief moment, I know it. And that fractal cracks open a universe of awareness that we can live in together, Quent and I, and you if you’re good. And what Quentyn sees in that final instant is his death, so terrible (three days of incomprehensible agony, coupled with the searing self-knowledge of utter failure and, in his mind, worthlessness) that his response, his reaction, his Oh, crystallizes his character, his journey, and the entire damn series. The screams, they will come. But first, in the instant-long land between life and death, you will See. (Quentyn wants to be like Arianne, but his Oh feels more like Bran.)

Oh: This is how my friends felt.

GRRM is late to Quentyn’s story, coming in only after half his (F)ellowship is dead. We never get the Quent and Cletus Show, as we do with so many other travelling duos in ASOIAF. The adventure is broken from the start. It’s not working properly. Or at least, that’s how Quentyn thinks about it, and his numb, panicked internal insistence that it will fix itself, any minute now, is what gets him killed. But oh: the dragons are not broken. They are working just fine.

Oh: I’m not the hero.

This, of course, was Robb’s final thought as well. I don’t need a POV from him to know that. Stories and songs are driving influences within the world of ASOIAF, and his characters’ relationships to them hint at something deeper than showy meta-play; they present an origin of fantasy as a way of thinking, a totalizing frame of reference…a POV. Quentyn, like Robb, like Sansa, lives fantasy, and his world rejects him with fire.

Oh: “They’re monsters, not maesters.”

Daenerys is long gone by the time Quent unleashes her children; her departure from Meereen has already had catastrophic consequences in the city, but they may pale compared to the changes wrought in the Khaleesi herself, as she retakes that title with Plasma and Platelets, or whatever. Barristan came only to serve, albeit in disguise. Quentyn came to claim her, to force her to take the Iron Throne on his terms, and his father’s. I shudder at the connection, but I can’t help but remember poor stupid sad Balon Greyjoy. Daenerys will take her crown, and what she decided in that final, shimmering, glorious, series-so-far-capping chapter in ADWD is that she is willing not only to abandon Slaver’s Bay to do so, but also kill lots of people in Westeros, her “home.” Dany is, in the end, the type of person who burns the Water Gardens of the world. Quent’s death will only hasten that fiery holocaust (coming your way in A Dream of Spring, released 2031). All the noble children, all the servants’ children, they will burn alike as they played.

Oh. I’ve wasted my life.

In the space of an unuttered syllable, GRRM comes as close as he has to dropping the curtain and speaking to us directly (and he’s come perilously close)(hi Meribald how are you). Oh is the loss, the waste, the numb exhaustion beyond grief. Oh is the ghost, the commentary, the truth behind truth: a fatal glimpse of the One True God. Compared to the Eternal Oh (Quentyn’s parting gift to the cosmos, less like the poison his uncle leaves in the Mountain’s veins than the confession he wrests from the Mountain’s lips), the Red Wedding is ash and dust. Testify, Frogger.

National Poetry Month:

I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a BLURRY image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while we eat cake and tweet to the whole UNIVERSE that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an EATING DISORDER hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully CONTINUE to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.

(tumblr post by b.e. fitzgerald who i am assuming is the poet who wrote this. if not i would love to correct this with the proper recognition)

anonymous asked:

I think people are getting mess up in their opinion. no one here doubt about harry's love for louis or vice versa. here we are talking about image management, abt the continuous and so obvious inconsistency in ot4 image. How come if everyone did sign the same contract, how come one is still in deep mess while others are mostly enjoying nice headlines and projects. About how disappointed some of us are to see that azoff want harry to appear as a pretentious person and how also he is playing along

Hi anon! For some reason, it was OK to criticize this image of Harry when he was in 1D, but it’s no longer OK to criticize the same image now that he’s not in 1D. I still don’t get when, why, or how the rules changed, but I also don’t get why the bee no longer has anything to do with babygate to Larries either. I’m a big shrug emoji over this fandom right now.

Originally posted by nuuurbannu

someone asked me about the narrative significance of fight club’s first rule on twitter earlier and as resident Fight Club Liker i of course can’t cram my diatribe on this topic into only 140 characters, SO: tumblr post it is

  • QUESTION: what is the meaning/narrative significance behind fight club’s iconic first rule?

well, first of all, we’re actually talking about the first and second rules here. “the first rule of fight club is: you do not talk about fight club. the second rule of fight club is: you do not talk about fight club.” even people who haven’t seen this movie or read the book know this line, but it is actually important to note that it’s stated twice. there are eight rules to fight club, but this is the only one that gets repeated, and that’s not because it’s the most important, but because it’s the one that tyler wants the club members to see as such. 

the thing is, tyler isn’t telling these guys to not talk about fight club because he wants to keep this whole thing a secret. it’s the opposite, actually: tyler knows that they’re going to break this rule, and that’s exactly why it exists. if no one talks about fight club, it won’t grow like tyler needs it to, so he gives them this rule to ensure that it will. the more important they think not talking about fight club is, the more like they are to go off and tell someone and tyler knows that - these men want to feel like rebels, like they’re doing something wrong and getting away with it because guys who whale on each other for funsies are if nothing else looking for a thrill. 

tyler knows that they want to play at being rulebreakers - these are men working jobs they hate, buying shit they don’t need, as he says later on in the movie. these are men who want to tell the world to go fuck itself but don’t because they’re complacent, or at least that’s how they and tyler see themselves: people who would be something bigger and better if the deck wasn’t stacked against them. tyler takes advantage of this pent up dissatisfaction and ire born of misplaced entitlement to a vague ‘something better’, and gives them a rule to break. and they do. and that’s what he wants. 

fight club is, at its core, about toxic masculinity, and tyler durden embodies that. he is the subconscious desires of the complacent everyman, and in his antagonistic nature he displays how inherently vile and dangerous the kind of person that men idealize/wish they were truly is. in giving the members of fight club this rule to break, he pushes them ever so slightly closer to being what he, an avatar of this form of masculinity, sees they can be if given the right push. 

tyler durden tells the men of fight club repeatedly that they are not special, while at the same time building himself up as a quasi-cult leader, his speeches becoming ever more pretentious and sermonlike. you are not special, he says as he plots to remake the world in his image, you are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. tyler durden is a man existing within another person’s head, not matter but mental construct. 

these men do not follow tyler durden for his charisma alone, they follow him because he gives them something besides themselves to blame for their unhappy lives, and he shows them where to exact vengeance, revolution. they vandalize billboards and smash car headlights because they want to feel like rebels, because tyler durden gave them an excuse to perpetrate the kind of violence they’ve inwardly wanted all along, and they talk about fight club because they’re chasing the thrill of disobedience and the ego boost that comes from someone briefly being impressed with what you do after dark.

the first rule of fight club is: do not talk about fight club. the subtext is: break the rules; be a rebel for once in your sad office-drone life. this is how tyler’s army grows.