…wait, we don’t even know each other, you say? Haha, oh boy, now it gets embarrassing. So basically I saw all the amazing birthday wishes yesterday on your blog (mostly because of @mellorad‘s great art which was posted at 4am my time yesterday and I didn’t want to sleep) and I liked some because they were so nice and YOU SAW, and YOU FOLLOWED MY PERSONAL BLOG. And I felt so BAD for not also wishing you happy birthday, even though we haven’t really talked ever. So here you go, have this tiny royai doodle (because I heard you liked angst, otherwise this might be a rather unfitting birthday drawing oh god I am sorry) and all the best for your next year!!!!
I just stumbled across a post that went on and on about how awful it would be to have Leia kill her son, and how it would kill her too.
I disagree with it.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I think that if Leia had to be the one to kill Kylo it would be devastating. A truly horrible experience.
But Leia would survive it.
Leia’s been making difficult decisions since she was 14 years old. She’s been making sacrifices for that long. This is the woman who, when the Death Star was pointed at her own planet, gave the Empire the name of another, innocent system. Because there were more lives on Alderaan and she couldn’t give up the Republic.
This is a woman who, on Hoth, knew that her closest friends were out in the cold with no hope of rescue and shut the blast doors anyway. Because the base needed to be safe.
This is a woman who continued sending fighters to blow up the Starkiller, even though she knew her son was on it. And she knew her husband was on it trying to bring him home. She didn’t say “wait until we know Han succeeded.” She just sent them.
Leia Organa loves her son. And would, I truly believe, forgive him even now if he genuinely meant it.
But Kylo doesn’t want it. And Leia is a granddaughter of the living Force. He is not going to be able to lie to her.
Now, personally, I doubt movies would put her in a position to kill him. Especially not now, with the logistical issues and all. But I think anyone who thinks that Leia Organa wouldn’t be able to look at the monster her son became and take the steps necessary to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else doesn’t know Leia Organa at all.
Leia Organa has made a lifetime of making hard decisions. She can absolutely survive this one.
Let me tell you two things that cured the ‘oh no i’m going to ruin this’ that stems from new sketchbooks / blank canvas.
Fuck it up intentionally
This I learned from my painting professor in college. He had us blindfold ourselves, and then actually really mess up a perfect blank page, and then use it for the exercises that day. Like we tore into the paper, made some horrible uncoordinated marks. We even spit on it. I highly recommend doing this at least once, because it helps dismantle some of the weird perfectionist hangups that a lot of us put on paper. Helps get rid of the worry of messing up its perfect potential..
Basically if you’re so worried you’re going to mess it up, mess it up intentionally first so you take back control from the floaty head space anxiety gives us, to your hands and actions.
Buy a shitty ass sketchbook.
Get one of those sketchbooks made for like 5 year olds that hang out in convenience/drug stores by those wonky ass crayons that never color right. The type that you touch the paper and know it’ll eat a marker head right off.
Whenever you look at your ‘good’ sketchbook and feel like you’re going to mess it up, use the terrible one instead. Now you’re still working and sketching and doing with no real pressure since hey, that sketchbook was a piece of crap anyway and cost you like 5 bucks. My shitty sketcbooks have some of my favorite stuff in them since I relaxed and let myself explore. It will also remind you why we bother with nice sketchbooks in the first place because let me tell you that paper is god awful.
A big reason why I gravitated towards digital art when I was younger was because it was almost impossible to ‘mess it up’. Make a stupid mark? Undo. Don’t like the initial sketch? Delete the layer. Hate the whole thing? Don’t save it. ((I still do all of these things, but now at a much lesser rate))
Take some of the holiness out of your tools. Realize that its the process that matters most, and keep your eyes forward. I think especially here on tumblr where a lot of ‘sketches’ that are more towards illustrations that happen to be in a sketchbook build up this head space that everything in your sketchbooks have to be perfect and beautiful. Sketchbooks are your play areas, where you can fuck around at your heart’s content. Have some fun with them.
My headcanon for the old story of Gaster and Sans.
As a royal scientist Gaster had been under such great pressure of responsibility to save the underworld. He visited Sans to ask for help for his collapsing spirit when he was about to go insane, but Sans flatly rejected him. It’s because Sans had been already exhausted with his own life too and the only one he cared of in the world was his brother, Papyrus.
When Gaster realized there was finally no one for him to rely on, with the horrible loneliness and pressure, his mental state totally broke. Being insane and falling into despair, he decided to erase the underworld (Yes, I definitely consider Gaster as the last boss stronger than anyone, extremely dangerous and strong creature.). Almost all monsters were defeated, and Sans, the last one left, fights with Gaster alone to stop him.
I got this headcanon from ECHO animation by @v0idless because the animation is exactly the reason I got to know the existence of Undertale, and started to fangirl Gaster and Sans. Why I think of Gaster as the last boss or why he and Sans must fight here is simply because I was affected by the animation. (Thank you for the legendary amazingly amazing work, v0idless ‘/////’)
Remus often had nightmares about his transformations and the pain and the never-ending curse he had to live through. He would wake up sweating, or screaming, even, which would wake up everyone in the dorm, and they all tried to help, but in the end, it was always Sirius who managed to make him fall asleep again. Sirius would sing lullabies, softly, or he would bring Remus down to the common room and play and teach him guitar, which would definitely calm Remus down (except when his heart would race when Sirius would guide his fingers onto the right chords). Over the years, Remus became quite good at playing the guitar.
At one point, Remus started using wolfsbane, which made him feel human even in his monstrous form. This reduced the frequency of his nightmares, because he knew he now had some control.
After Azkaban, Sirius went to live with his old lover and best friend, Remus. It was Remus’ turn to help Sirius. Sirius kept replaying horrible scenes from Azkaban in his head: the freezing air, the lifeless, cruel, mock faces of the Dementors, the feeling of helplessness, the absence of hope, the visions of his friends dying, over and over again. Nightmares would plague him every night, and he would wake up suddenly and grab at whatever was nearest: a bed post, a pillow, Remus. And Remus would comfort him, and play guitar, and murmer words of encouragement, of love. Over time, both of their fears faded, knowing they had each other.
I was one of those weirdos who, at six-years-old, was telling everybody that I wanted to be an actor. I saw my sister in a play and realized that I wanted to play make believe in front of people; I was always goofing around and putting on shows for my family. I sort of dabbled in some horrible child short films growing up; I would write these horrible scripts and shoot them with my friends and my sister. That was sort of the beginning of the end for me, because I loved it so much it was the only thing I wanted to do.
I was having the shittiest day as a 67 year old guy and then a cute emo guy in a comfy black sweater sat beside me on the bus and suddenly i visualized our house together somewhere up on a hill with really strong wifi while drinking orange juice with slices of butterscotch in front of us just because he smiled at me when he took his seat
Dave strider worried that he’s going to have to out himself to his adoptive family after his period starts. He goes to the bathroom in search of pads (he figures Granny has some because she’s a girl), finds none, figures it’s because of menopause because he knows old ladies get that.
He tries to play it off all cool, talks to Granny Egbert about why she doesn’t have any pads because he expected to see them. Granny asks him what he could have possibly been doing looking for pads, Dave fumbles and starts off on a horrible rap tangent to try and blow it off as him being his weird ironically cool self.
Granny gets it. Stops him halfway through his babbling and offers to take him to the store to buy some good ones. Dave says no, what would he need pads for, he’s definitely a boy anyway it’s not like he NEEDS them or anything.
The next day, after Dave survived off paper towels scratching his groin all day yesterday, he finds some pads and a photo album next to his little mini-table on the side of his bed. The photo album has no label on it but he opens it and he finds a photo of Camp Harmony, the Japanese internment camp Jinsei Egbert was a part of.
Jinsei Egbert is photographed multiple times, wearing boys’ clothes and with a different name identifying her. After a point, Jinsei starts wearing dresses and looking more like herself in each photo.
Dave skips to the end of the album and finds a note there written by his grandmother.
“Don’t worry Dave. People like you and me have been around for a very long time.”
John’s alarm goes off. It’s the most bombastic 1500’s concerto music imaginable. Dave stuffs the photo album into his pillow case and hides the pads under his shirt. John looks up from the bottom bunk without his glasses, tells Dave it’s time to get ready for school through a yawn. Sees the pad bulge under Dave’s nightshirt.
John asks if Dave got pregnant or something. Dave tells John to get his glasses checked and since when did boys get pregnant anyway. John quips that he is not wearing his glasses right now so shut up and go brush your teeth, you have the morning breath to end all morning breath. Dave grins and races John to the bathroom. Dave wins.
so. they made a new german discworld essentials edition, with a new covers (which is good because the old ones are real bad)
and they are these manga-like ‘build a picture’ style, which i like
but. oh my god. look at that vimes
this isn’t samuel ‘worked the night-shift for 30 years, runs on coffee and spit, has probably not slept more than 3hours any given day’ vimes
this is the guy who played vimes in a murder-mystery play, ‘inspired by real events’. hammy acting, horrible script, ‘Clues’ everywhere, heroic fightscenes, big speaches. Vimes threatened to shut the whole thing down for slander. Sybil probably got an autograph
Request: Can I request a Bodyguard AU. Where Seokjin is Y/N bodyguard and at first Y/N was too scared to talk to him but realize one day he is actually a goofball and kind hearted person. Y/N warms up to him and eventually falls for but promise not to tell him because it would risk his job. But something happens and risks his life protecting y/n. You end up confessing to him. Please surprise me in the ending? It can be tragic or a happy one. Thankies~
How many types of torture could your tutor pull
off? You were sure the old woman had some horrible things under her
sleeves, you were going to have nightmares about her making your life miserable
and you were sure she would have a blast with that. You covered your yawn with
your book while she went over your exam. Truth be said, you loved to learn new
languages but not with that lady, she just made it all the most boring and
painful. Maybe if you tried to convince your father that you already knew
enough you could get some time off from your German lessons, you giggled and
dissimulated it with a cough when she turned to look at you.
You sighed while she went about why you weren’t
making any advance from the basics and how the daughter of the ambassador
should know more than to just introduce herself in German by know, you
refrained yourself from huffing and instead focused in how pretty your sparkly
pink pen was; you already knew enough languages and weren’t only taking German
but also French classes and you were sure she barely knew two and was just
being a bitch on purpose while you were still jet lagged by your last travel
with your father.
– I’m going to the bathroom – you showed the
most faked smile ever and stood up without waiting for any type of permission,
overly satisfied with the way your heels echoed with each step while you made
your way outside. –Stupid witch, god how I hate her –
You threw the door harshly at your back and
almost fell if it wasn’t for the pair of arms grabbing you before you could
touch the ground. Why were you even wearing heels inside? That pair was as
marvelous as they were unstable and you should have known better than to forget
about the carpet outside in which you unceremoniously got tangled with.
You held onto the arms holding you but
instantly let go when you saw to whom they belonged to and almost fell again in
the process. You stumbled a little onto your feet again and brushed some
invisible dust from your pants, your heart was beating faster than it should
for only almost falling onto your bodyguard.
–I’m sorry…– you looked down feeling stupid out
of the blue, why was it suddenly harder to breath? You fisted your hands to get
a grip on yourself and looked at him in the eyes. The guy was new, barely had a
month there and you didn’t even know his name yet but he was… distressing,
unsettling, scary and so stoic, like he only stood there like a statue, a good
looking one you could agree but still, so cold. But every single one of the
bodyguards you’d met was like that, so you didn’t understand why you felt so
intimidated and scared by him.
He nodded and went to his usual position once
again, hands laced behind his back, chin tipped up, eyes lost somewhere to the
front in a sort of calm alert, with that type of seriousness that made you feel
childish out of the sudden in the middle of your outbursts, so you just turned
around and literally flew upstairs towards your bedroom and as away from him as
you could be in that moment.
Can we kill this new Facebook meme that’s just an unflattering picture of an “unattractive” woman that says “can you tag *common male name* because *something about having sex with him*” It’s really shitty, it’s not funny, and it’s old. Like all you’re doing is saying “lmao it would be so funny if [friend] had sex with her because she’s ugly/fat/etc” which let’s be honest, is like middle school bully level shit. It’s just mean. All you’re doing is making fun of women’s apperances, which stopped actually being funny before it started. And imagine if you were one of those girls? And logged into Facebook to see a photo of yourself being passed around while people talk about how horrible it would be to fuck you. They’re real people. This meme is just mean and misogynistic (not to mention a lot are fatphobic.)
- Whenever he’s around others he always gets his coffee black (to look all tough), but as soon as they leave he adds almost a full handful of sugar into it.
- He has about 20 different colors of the same button up shirt, most of which are hideously plaid.
- He likes to joke that he’s glad he lost his left arm because he had gotten a horrible drunk tattoo on his bicep only a few days before. (It’s, of course, another ridiculous made-up story he likes to tell, but everyone on the team humors him).
- 99% of his cowboy persona he learned from one of those old-timey Western-themed pinball machines they have in arcades.
- He’s never actually seen a horse in person. Whenever someone asks questions about his cowboy experiences with them, he usually distracts them by raising his hand to a (very randomly chosen) height and whistling about “the size of those damn things.”
You’ve never met me. We live under the mask of our phony handle. We have shown glimpses of who we really are when we share, comment, blog. Today I give you more because I think you are incredible, intelligent, women.
I am a 50 year old white woman. I am a proud American. I have been married for thirty years and have sons, good men all three. I have come to know you by your words. This is a very clever group of strong women. Most are great writers- I can tell. You are passionate, kind and caring to one another. You make me happy, you truly do.
I am stunned and embarrassed by the outcome of this election. I did everything to prevent that horrible man from winning. He didn’t hide who he was, yet he won anyhow. I don’t care if you are black, yellow, brown or purple- I don’t care if you are LGBT, a minority, an immigrant, or Muslim. You MATTER to me and the America I know is the better with you in it. I fought for you, my sons fought for you, my Republican husband fought for you…and we will never stop. I also voted for the World as I know the outcome affects all of us. You are worth it.
All the Cait/Sam stuff is fun and a distraction- but this group of women and the bonds that have been forged is truly what we come here for. We are better together.❤️❤️❤️
- You being nervous about the clique knowing, but he would reassure you and tell them how much you mean to him.
-You feeling instantly better because of his protective nature. He wouldn’t let fans be horrible to you and he would let men know you were his. Even if that did mean practically making out on the sidewalk…
- Meeting his family for the first time who absolutely adored you and learning about his childhood, looking through old family albums which embarrassed Josh.. “Mom, I can’t believe you showed a picture of me naked when I was three…”
- Constantly cuddling and a fair amount of PDA.
-Loving stares constantly, “Stop looking at me Josh, you’re putting me off…” “But you look beautiful I can’t help it…”
-Drum lessons, sitting on his lap before giving up and making out because you hadn’t seen each other in a long time. If it didn’t end up like that, giving up and just watching him play because he was always so passionate, plus it was a huge turn on for you.
- Amazing sex if he was away for a while and even more amazing sex when he was jealous.
- Lazy Sundays consisting of trying to bake and watching movies or cuddling talking about your future together. ‘We will have loads of cats and a big house and kids. Is two good enough or shall we have three?’
-Sharing a bunk whilst on tour and not caring that you were squished.
-Smiling and blushing like crazy when you are brought up in an interview. ‘She is amazing, I am extremely lucky…’
-Banter and flirting on Twitter, knowing it makes the fans go crazy and loving it.
-Late night FaceTime calls whilst he was away because you always missed him even if he did leave you some of his hoodies.
You were never in any danger. What? The other night. Babysitting that shit prick. Running around with that Grotto. I only hurt people that deserve it, I wanted you to know that. You think he deserved it? I do. You know, he used to do hits for the Irish? Huh? One time he shot an old lady because she saw his face? I guess he – he didn’t tell you that, huh? Yeah. Point is, you were safe, okay? I just wanted you to know that.