become remarkable


“I’m a huge fan of everything comic book, in general. But especially with someone like her [Barbara Gordon], its different. Every origin story is so different. A lot of people have experienced a major tragedy, for her its like-her father is an incredible-Commissioner Gordon who works with Batman and bridges the divide between vigilante justice and judicial justice. And to know that she grew up looking at these two men that she admired and be able to grow into their roles. That inspiration allow her to match it. But she does it in her own way. She doesn’t compromise herself to do it. She’s not perfectly emulating them. She’s taking that inspiration and living through herself-she’s remarkable. She becomes commissioner and she’s Batgirl. And she’s badass in both roles.” — Rosario Dawon (the voice of Batgirl in The Lego Batman Movie)


“I’m just one gigantic ball of rancid fear and self-consciousness. I’m entirely fueled by fear, so the fact that I knew it could be a catastrophic disaster made me unable to sleep, and made me work quite hard.” — Eddie Redmayne, b. January 6, 1982


Episode 18 had another good amount of Theo Raeken in it and Cody Christian appeared at his best once again. The episode opens with a scene of the pack and Theo, trying to find the Anuk-Ite’s other half. Theo thinks it’s best to keep an eye on Aaron. We all know that Theo’s plans usually work (and are not connected to gain more power). However, the others remain wary of the chimera. They obviously are not fond of the idea that Theo is right. They even refuse to acknowledge it openly. 

“Is everyone completely shocked that I might be right?”

Theo said, his voice full of disbelief. “No, we just don’t like it.” Scott, however, tries to appease both sides. He says that they could all be right, then sends Mason and Theo on a mission in order to find Aaron.

Both of them are not very keen on spending time with each other, even a blind person could figure that out. Every step Theo takes, everything he does is allegedly connected to his own well-being. He only cares about himself, they claim. He helps them only to save his own ass.

This, however, cannot be true. Ever since Liam brought him back at the end of 6x06, Theo’s personality has altered. Every single one of his actions since then have proven to be altruistic.

He saved Liam Dunbar lest he was taken by the riders. He risked his own life – something he clung to his entire existence. We also have seen how easy it is for the hunters to kill any of them with just one shot. Theo is thus in constant danger, but in lieu of running, he fights back and makes sure that Scott’s pack is safe. A pack he would like to be a part of?

“Maybe I want to be in the pack.”

“Maybe I want to be in the pack,” Theo says to Mason when they went through the dark, eerie tunnels in search of Aaron. Despite the somewhat smug façade adorned by a tat of sarcasm, Theo is genuine. “A pack is about trust,” Mason retorts. They evidently do not trust him due to all the obnoxious things he carried out in the past.  

The closer they get to Aaron, the more afraid they become. Mason remarks how little he trusts Theo; even turning his back to him would be too much to ask. Anxiety overcomes him, caused by the Anuk-Ite. Then, it seems like Theo is on the verge of losing his temper. His digits seem to quiver, his lower lip trembles. A loud, menacing growl emits and razor sharp fangs emerge. The chimera’s eyes growl and for a moment, it appears like Theo’s about to attack Mason.

But he just shoved him away, saving him from Aaron. Mason is injured and in agony. Theo takes his arm, wanting to take the pain away. He fails.

“You can’t take the pain if you don’t care.”

The aghast look on Theo’s face is yet another sign that he actually wants to. Theo wants to care; he just does not know how. His entire existence revolved only around himself. Cody Christian shows that Theo has a heart.

Just consider how upset Theo is in that particular moment. His lips slightly parted, terror and realization mirrored in his eyes. Cody Christian truly becomes Theo Raeken on set and manages to touch the viewers. His acting is more than just good. People just need to realize that. He’d truly deserve an award for his outstanding performance.

There are thus two sides to Theo. One is the smug, apparently selfish façade. The other is the caring one. Theo just needs to figure out what caring and love actually mean.

In the end, Theo and Mason are both injured. The Anuk-Ite injured itself with Theo’s claws in order to find its another half more easily. The scene that followed really made me smile: Mason offers Theo his hand, pulls him up. It closes with both of them sitting next to each other, injured.

Theo’s redemption arc is almost closed. He has been the one saving everyone all the time. Also, Liam seems to be the first person he started to care about. 

A spoiler-free review voted 9/10 for Thiam in episode 20 and mentioned “redemption and tears of joy” as well. Something close to a happy ending for Theo? He’d certainly deserve it.

When it comes to Cody Christian’s acting and his character Theo’s development I would certainly give an 11/10. Theo has a heart. 

Cody Christian shows us that!


What? I love garbage.


That’s a lot of trust.

By crawling towards them on hands and knees, I was able to get close to these two wild stallions as they were rearing up and testing each other’s strength. I had to trust that they would dance around me. The Oostvaardersplassen Nature Reserve in the Netherlands has become a remarkable habitat for these and other large grazing mammals that once roamed wild across Western Europe.

Rosé Gold: “Sorry for not believing in you“

(A/N): I‘ve always wanted to write a soulmate AU, so this is a big deal for my crippling author career. Enjoy x 

Words: 2,3k

Originally posted by tylerandthejosephs

The air is like frozen lace on your skin, delicate and cold. The sky is washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance. That special cold and pale light, only the winter‘s sun can give, makes everything glow with slippery ice. It‘s the perfect day for staying home.

Sadly, you had to work today. You‘re seated at the bus stop with both arms crossed over your chest, hugging your body, as if that could provide you with some kind of warmth. 

All of sudden you see an elegant woman being dragged by her poodle towards another dog owner just across the street. As expected, they collide into each other. The gentleman has lost his hat due to the collision, causing a royal blue strand on his head to become visible and remarkably stand out from the rest of his blonde hair. 

Instantly acknowledging the phenomenon, the lady lets a loud gasp escape her lips and urgently draws the guy‘s attention to her streak of hair, which coincidentally has the exact same pigment as his. The next thing that happens is acted out just like in the movies. The lovers jump into each other‘s arms and share a passionate kiss as they pull away. At the same time, the royal blue pieces of hair from each one of them loose their colour and blend into the rest. 

Eventually, the scenery turns out to be the complete opposite of a simple coincidence. Oh, the things you‘d do to finally experience the same spectacle. You are tired of mustering up an empathic smile every time someone summons their memorable and whimsical story of meeting their partner. When will it finally be your turn to find your soulmate?

Keep reading

Coming Home to Me

On the day they met, Dean Winchester is four years old.  Emblazoned on the front of his light blue teddy T-shirt are the words I Wuv Hugz, and everyone who’s ever met Dean can verify the accuracy of this statement.

Everyone who’s ever met his new neighbor, Castiel Novak, knows the opposite is true.  It’s 1983, and though terms like Asperger’s Syndrome and touch aversion have yet to seep into public consciousness, Cas had been sure to convey his displeasure to anyone who’s ever tried to hug him without his explicit consent.

As such, both the boys’ parents watch with considerable apprehension as Dean toddles up to the newcomer, ready to bestow upon him the signature Winchester greeting. 

He throws his pudgy arms around Castiel’s slight shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as his little body will allow. 

Castiel’s haggard single mother, Naomi, squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the ear-splitting wail that is sure to follow.  To her surprise, there is none.  

Instead, when she dares to look again, Cas is, for the first time in his short life, expressing physical affection, his thin arms wrapped delicately around Dean’s shoulders.  

In a voice so soft no one but Dean can hear it, Castiel murmurs, “Hello, Dean.” 

It’s now 1988.

Dean Winchester is nine years old, down a parent, and up a…well, he’s hesitant to refer to Cas as like a brother, though adults in his life have described it as such.  It just feels wrong to him, for reasons he has yet to put his finger on. 

Regardless, Cas has become remarkably close, mostly because his mother – a single parent, struggling to make ends meet – is almost never home.  As his closest neighbors and closest friends, Cas ends up spending more time at the Winchesters’ house than he does at his own.  

Dean still wuvs hugz, though he’s now less willing to admit to such, and Cas, miracle of all miracles, still never fails to return them.  Indeed, Dean is one of the few people Cas will willingly touch.

At present, the boys are cuddled up on Dean’s lower bunk while young Sammy snoozes above them, a rerun of the Three Stooges buzzing on Dean’s fuzzy, black-and-white TV set.  

99% of the time, Cas doesn’t understand the humor, fails to see the amusement in watching three people brutalize one another.  But he enjoys hearing Dean laugh, the feel of his warm breath against the back of his neck.  It makes him feel comforted.  

It makes him feel home. 

Contentedly, Cas closes his eyes.  He’s just drifting off when he hears Dean say, “Oh.  Hi, Daddy.” 

For some reason, he sounds nervous.  

When Cas blinks open his eyes, he sees why:  John is standing in the doorway, glowering at them, a strange sort of contempt darkening his glassy eyes.  He’s yards away from them, leaning in the doorless entryway to the boys’ room, but Cas can smell the pungent stench of alcohol wafting off of him.

“You boys’re too old to be doin’ that,” is all he mutters, before staggering away and leaving the confused duo with the vague but pervasive sense that they’ve done something wrong.  

Cas glances over at Dean, who’s now worrying his lower lip and won’t meet his eyes.  

Cas pats his hand.  “My mommy smells that way when she gets sad,” he offers. 

For some reason, it seems to help.

It’s now 1996, and in that very same room, the boys are having a slumber party.  Of course, they’re not allowed to call it a slumber party, because they’re boys over the age of twelve, and rules of social conduct dictate that it be called hanging out.

But, essentially, it was a slumber party.

Cas skipped a grade, while Dean was held back one, and as such, they haven’t seen as much of one another as either party would have liked.  

Still, Dean is popular, and surprisingly, so is Cas:  yes, he’s undeniably nerdy and not a little weird, but there’s an inherent niceness to him that makes him a pleasant person to be around.

Dean has had the pleasure of witnessing this all evening, as Cas interacts with Charlie, with Gabe, with Kevin and Garth and Benny, and even the little gray mixed breed that recently followed Sam home.  Regardless of what is being said, Cas listens to each of them with his undivided attention, head nodding, blue eyes wide with interest. 

Dean is content, for once, to quietly observe, witnessing his friend for the first time through the others’ eyes.

Later that night, however, when they line the floor like sleeping caterpillars in their multicolored sleeping bags, Dean once again has Cas all to himself, facing one another in the bunk they’d shared all those years ago.  

There’s a flutter in their chests that wasn’t there before, a not-entirely-unpleasant sensation that neither one can place. 

Years later, Dean won’t remember what it was Cas was saying.  He’ll only remember the soft, gravelly rasp of his voice, his crystalline blue eyes as they stared so intently into his own.  

He’ll remember how soft his chapped, full lips felt as he found himself kissing them, the tickle of his faint stubble.

He’ll remember the instant he pulled away, and the long moment in which they just silently stared, a million wordless protests racing through their minds:  it’s the mid-nineties, and the heat of the AIDs epidemic is still fresh in the public’s memory.  It’s by no means a good time to be gay, or anything close it.

More than anything, he’ll remember the exact moment he decided he didn’t care, that nothing in the world mattered more than having Castiel’s lips against his own.

He’ll remember the instant Cas silently agreed with him when he kissed back. 

It’s 2002. 

Cas is going to medical school.  Sam is going to college. 

Dean is going overseas.  

In the end, he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter:  he never had gotten his high school diploma, weighed down by the burden of being his family’s full-time emotional (and ultimately, financial) provider. 

He’d tried so hard to juggle the two, coming home straight after school everyday to clean up and make dinner, to fill the role his mother had vacated when she’d died of cancer years before, and helping Sammy with his homework every evening before he even got started on his own.

He eventually had to give up and drop out of school entirely when John left them, and he had to get a full time job at his Uncle Bobby’s garage just to make ends meet.

But never once had Dean given up on the hope of making his life meaningful, of helping others and saving lives. 

When he was younger, he’d wanted to go to nursing or medical school, perhaps become a paramedic, but as a high school flunky with five bucks to his name, this option is out for the time being. 

So really, his only option is overseas.

Cas knew this, and he knows he should have prepared himself better.  Yet this does little to stop the tears from falling as he holds his fiance’s hands, freshly gifted engagement rings glinting in the evening sun.

Dean smiles that goofy, crooked smile, puts on a brave face as he wipes the tears away.  

“Hey, now,” he says, chuckling painfully.  “Ain’t we talked about this, angel?  You know I don’t do chick-flick moments.”

Cas smiles faintly, nearly argues that Dean loves chick-flicks and they both know it, but he finds he doesn’t have it in him for their usual, lighthearted banter.  

“Promise me you’ll come home,”  he says instead.  

For a moment, Dean’s facade falters, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.  Still, his smile remains fixedly – painfully – in place.  

“I promise, angel,” he whispers.

Eighteen months later, Dean comes home.  Or rather, most of him does.  

They’ll both realize, with time, that Dean lost a part of himself overseas, and it wasn’t just the tip of his now-stubby left pinky finger that he’ll forever use to give Sam wet willies for maximum gross-out factor.  It wasn’t just the majority of the flesh of his left arm and ribcage, that took the brunt of the damage when the bomb went off, the drum-tight, pinkish scar tissue there to remind him whenever he examines himself shirtless in the bathroom mirror.

It’s something intangible, that will make itself evident the first time he ushers Cas away from their bedroom window, mind already anticipating the crackle of bullets and the shattering of class.  The first time he wakes up, heart pounding, to the crashing of a garbage truck or early summer fireworks, every instinct screaming for him to find shelter.  

Dean knows he lost something overseas, a part of himself he’ll never fully be able to recover.

But he’ll be okay.  They both will.  

In time, he’ll finally get his GED.  He’ll go to community college, and then, to nursing school, finally able to fulfill his dream of saving lives, helping others in his own way.  

He and Cas will get married in the fall, and though it will take years of convincing on Cas’s end, convincing that Dean will not become a replica of his father, they’ll have kids:  Claire and Ben, adopted two years apart.  Dean will be startled by how completely they feel like his own.  

They’ll be okay.  In spite of it all, they’ll be okay.  Life will go on, and it will be a good one.

But for now, all that matters is here at the airport, searching the crowd for that messy head of raven hair he knows is waiting for him.  

His heart skips a beat when he finally spots it.  

The years have been good to Castiel.  His shoulders visibly broader beneath his usual beige trench, a veritable sea of stubble framing the familiar, chapped lips.  Eyes, somehow bluer than Dean remembered them, widened when they met his own.  

Dean swallowed.  Make no mistake, Cas had always been gorgeous, but now…damn.

For a moment, the two just stare at each other, neither sure what to say.  

Finally, Dean chuckles wetly.  “Angel,” he huffs, with his best attempt at a cocky smile.  “You’re…you’re all grown up.”

Castiel says nothing.  Wordlessly, he moves forward, strong arms enveloping Dean’s shoulders.  Dean rests his head in the crook of his neck, breathing in a shaky, relieved breath as he feels the familiar prickle of stubble, taking in the clean, soapy scent he hadn’t known how much he’d missed.  It makes him feel comforted.  

It feels like home. 

A soft, gravelly voice rasps gently in his ear,  “Hello, Dean.”                  


where Y/N is sick, and Harry is her favorite medicine.

As Harry opened the door to their shared apartment, he could feel the worry in his chest grow when the familiar body didn’t come running to him. He headed towards the living room, hoping you would be sitting there, safe and sound.

He found you, although that did little to calm his nerves as he noticed the little sushi roll you had wrapped herself in. He felt his heart grow with love as he looked down at the beautiful mess that he was proud to call his.

He knew that you had been feeling a little under the weather since the night before.

However, he had been assured by you that you would be fine and that he should go to work. He had left reluctantly, after making you promise to call him if anything was wrong.

The day had passed by smoothly with him calling you every once in a while to ensure that you were holding on good. That being said, the last couple of hours at the studio had become immensely busy and he hadn’t been able to contact you.

As much as he tried to come home early, he knew that he had to get the days’ work done. After finally wrapping it up and managing to get the next day off, he had gotten in the car and called you, wanting to know if he was meant to bring something home from the convenience store.

When you didn’t reply, he felt himself panicking.

After multiple calls to no avail, he took a quick trip to the store anyway, picking up a few things that he knew you would appreciate in case you had gotten sick. That included a large bar of chocolates, some medicines and a baby sized teddy bear. He drove home in a rush, trying to assure himself that you were okay.

Now as he looked at you, wrapped under a million blankets with the telly playing at a low volume, he was glad that he had, after all, been able to pay the quick visit to the store.

He didn’t fail to notice the tissue box placed near you, and the tissue that was weakly wrapped in your closed fist. He couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked wrapped up like that. He knelt down, pushing the light wisps of hair away from your face. He lowered the blankets so he could look at your face. He gazed with awe at the slightly red color adorning your cheeks. He often told you that your face became a mild shade of red whenever you became sick, which you always denied.

He softly whispered your name, as his hand went to cup your right cheek. He frowned when he felt how abnormally warm your skin was. His other hand went to your forehead, and he almost winced at the exceeding temperature.

Your eyes fluttered open as you sniffled your nose. Despite how adorable he found you whenever you did that, he was too worried for him to make a remark.

“Harry?” You whispered, your voice scratchy and raw because of the soreness of your throat.

“I’m here, pet. I’m here.”

Your hand went to grasp his, and he conveniently lifted it up for you, so you could have some comfort.

“When did you come home?” You asked, knowing that it wasn’t too long until he would tell you to stop talking because of the pain your throat was in.

“Just about now. You weren’t answering my calls so I got worried.” He replied, his thumb softly stroking your warm skin.

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep a couple of hours ago.” You responded, leaning in to his hold.

“It’s fine, love. Now, have you eaten anything?” He asked, realizing that he had to make sure that you had taken some food in before giving you the medicine.

He softly frowned as you shook your head. Deciding to save the scolding for later, he opted to taking you upstairs so you could rest while he made his special soup for you. You were about to swing your legs over the couch to get up when Harry quite conveniently hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a squeak as your arms went up to wrap around his neck.

“You do know that I can walk, right?” You questioned, while he carried you up the stairs to your shared bedroom with ease.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” He replied, to which you giggled and snuggled your head in his chest.

He lay you down on the bed, pulling the covers over you.

“Stay here, okay? I’m going to bring you some soup.” He voiced.

“Mhmm, or you could just get into bed and cuddle with me until I’m okay?” You suggested, still in a sleepy daze.

He chuckled before leaning down to kiss your forehead,
“We can very well do that after you take some medicine, yeah? Now hush, rest your throat for a bit.”

You smiled cheekily and made a peace sign at him, to which he snickered and took as his cue to leave.

It took him about twenty minutes to prepare the soup and get the medicines for you, before climbing up the stairs to get to you. He brought the chocolates and teddy bear along too, knowing that you could use some cheering up.

As he entered the room, he could very well see how you ducked under the covers as soon as you saw him entering.

A silent laugh escaped him as he was reminded of your absolute hate towards medicines. Even in your childhood, you had opted to take liquid syrups as long as you possibly could, before your doctor had declared your 11-year old self too old for fruit-flavored syrups.

When you had told this to Harry, he had found it utterly adorable that the strong-willed and confident girl he knew was also the one who was scared of medicines.

It wasn’t until you became sick for the first time since dating that he realized how strong your dislike really was.

He had called your mother that night, who had advised him to give you something sweet afterwards, knowing you had a sweet tooth. Since then, Harry always bribed you with chocolates and kisses, and maybe, just maybe, medicines weren’t that bad anymore.

As he set the food tray on the table beside the bed, he settled down on the edge of the bed.

“Hmm, I wonder where my oh-so-beautiful girlfriend is.” He pretended to wander, making you giggle from under the covers.

“God knows,” you replied, your hold on the covers becoming loose.

“Sure,” he remarked, before poking your leg from over the covers.

You yelped and squirmed in response, making a smile etch onto his face.

“Why don’t you join me under here?” You offered,

“So that we can live under the covers for the rest of our lives?” He retorted.

You were going to reply, but instead you burst into a fit of coughs.

Harry could hear the painful breaths you were taking, causing him to take off the covers and helping you sit up. He softly rubbed your back, until your coughing came to a rest and you were able to breathe normally.

You went to lay down again before Harry stopped you.

“Nu-uh. You are going to have the soup I made for you, and then you are going to take your meds.”

You opened your mouth to protest, which Harry quickly stopped by giving you a peck on the lips, and placing a box of chocolates and a small teddy bear on your lap. Your mouth hung open in surprise, your eyes wide with awe.

“When did you get these?’ You exclaimed, cradling the small stuff toy to your chest.

“On my way home. I had a feeling this would happen.” He replied, while settling down beside you on the bed and pulling you to sit between his legs. You rested your head on his chest, looking up at him.

“Thank you.” You grinned, your eyes sparkling from the water that had gathered there after your coughing fit.

Harry felt his heart swell with adoration as he looked down at you. He kissed your forehead, which was still hot, making him remember the actual reason that the two of you were there.

“C’mon now, missy. We have to get some food in you.” He said, picking up the soup bowl and lifting up the spoon. He softly blew on it thrice, before lowering it to your level and telling you to open your mouth. He continued the safe routine, until the soup was finished and he sat it down on the tray.

You loved how he spoiled you whenever you were sick. Of course, he was always loving and gentle with you, but the treatment that you got when you weren’t feeling your best, that was your favorite. You snuggled into his chest, placing a kiss right where his heart was. His arms came to wrap around you, making you smile.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Being all cute and cuddly so I’ll forget about the meds.” Harry, who was of course well aware with you, spoke.

You giggled, lifting your head from his chest, looking up at him.

“Dammit, I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

“Not happening, poppet. Now, just take the tablet so we can get you feeling better, yeah?” He said, softly poking your nose.

“But Harry,” you started, and he raised his eyebrows, knowing you were going to say something extremely cheesy, “You take such good care of me, I already feel better. We don’t need no meds.”

Harry burst out laughing at that, making you grin as well.

“As cute as you are, princess, you’re still going to have to do it.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest,

“It’s just one tablet, pet. Then we’re done with this. I’ll run you a nice bath and then we can cuddle, yeah? How does that sound?”

You reluctantly nodded, slowly lifting your head and sitting up a little. Harry picked up the tablet and glass of water and handed it to you. Unenthusiastically, you popped the pill in your mouth before drowning it with water. As you emptied the glass and handed it back to Harry, you had a sour expression on your face, but Harry was quick to clear that by placing a block of chocolate in your mouth immediately afterwards.

A smile crept up on your face at that, making Harry cheer.

“There we go. You’ll feel better in no time.” He grinned, pulling you back to sit in between his legs, with your head resting on his firm chest. He placed a kiss on the top of your hair, caressing it with his hand. As you looked up at him through watery eyes (due to the flu), and a cheesy smile, he felt like his heart would explode with the love he felt for you. He hugged you to him tightly, nuzzling his own head in your neck.

The two of you lay there for a while, before he suggested a bath for you. You accepted it on the condition of him going on with you. He happily obliged as you two got up and headed to the bathroom. Harry got the warm water running, while you stripped off your clothes. He popped in your favorite bath bomb and took off his own clothes.

Helping you in, he made sure that the water was just the right temperature. In the bath, he pampered you to the fullest, before wrapping you up in a fluffy white towel (which he had placed in front of the hot air fan so it’d warm up), and carrying you to bed.

You giggled while being in his arms, but didn’t dare to complain, knowing that he’d declare it as his job to make sure you got complete rest.

He got dressed himself, before helping you in a warm pair of pajamas and a t-shirt of his, which was far too big for you, but you loved how it swallowed you, making you look utterly adorable to him. He tucked you under the blankets, making sure you were warm and cozy, and then left to make you a cup of tea.

While he was gone, your eyes fell on the small teddy bear that Harry had bought for you. You snuggled it close to your chest, a sigh of pure contentment leaving your lips. You were more than thankful for Harry, it was the biggest comfort knowing that he was always there to take care of you, as you were for him.  

When Harry entered the room with two cups of the honey and ginger tea that his mum used to make him whenever he was sick, he noticed the gleam of happiness in your eye. As he settled down in the bed, pulling the blanket above the two of you, you cuddled closer to him. You lay your head on his shoulder, while his arm went to wrap around your small frame.

“Feeling better, love?” He asked, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You hummed in response, the stuff toy still in your hands.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I don’t think I tell you enough how much I love and appreciate you.” You spoke, voice still a bit gruff because of your blocked nose and sore throat.

Harry turned on his left side to face you, making you look up at him.

“Always, love. You know I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. And if anything, I should be the one telling you this. You’re always so understanding and considerate of me and my career, I can never thank you enough for that.”

“I love you,” You whispered, before his lips captured yours in a warm kiss, and you were sure that by the time morning came, you’d be feeling a lot better. And even if you weren’t, you had no worries. Because you knew that Harry was willing to take care of you for today, tomorrow and forever.

Counter Argument. Why we just don’t assume that Steven loses weight using common sense? (talking about this post)

Assume that he simply lost weight due the missions and things that he has to do doesn’t make sense. How do you explain the fact that he also loses height? That doesn’t follow the same logic, lose stature is NOT normal, for any human or gem. (Half human and Half gem in his case) (Unless you get old (55+ years) or have an illness) Unless it’s voluntary is a case of gems, but as you know, didn’t even Amethyst is capable of doing it permanently. (she suffers doing it too long)
The fact is that almost ALL characters are shrinking aka: chibi shrinking.

This new art style not only makes the characters less detailed as a chibi does but also makes them lose height, not in a ‘Homogeneous form ’ but in a way that creates contradictions to things already established. This has happened many times in the series since the first season, but with the passage of time is becoming more common and remarkable and worse.

Greg is a normal human, he is in his’ '40-50 years. “ We can perfectly assume that he lost weight although this has NEVER been explained.

Season 1: Cat Fingers

Season 3: Alone at Sea (seriosly I have to explain this again?)

We all know that this show almost always presents clues regarding changes, aka: foreshadowing)

Season 4: Steven’s Dream (other very important plot episode)

AND He also lost height, it is NOT NORMAL for a person to lose height in that age. If we still assume that ’'Steven only lost weight because he was doing many missions.’'How do you explain Greg’s case…? The reasons is because…

YOU CAN’T. that’s the explanation! You can’t explain things when these things have not been EVEN explained with any clues in the show.  That’s the common sense that comes once you notice these things. This is NOT EXPLAINED BECAUSE IT IS BAD ANIMATION. Source.

Remember the episode where Amethyst shows to Steven where was she born?

’'Is my hole! It’s my size!”

The point is that Amethyst, BORN with that shape, that body style. (AKA: Endomorph like in humans, like Greg)

She is a gem, she always had that type of body, no matter if Amethyst eats or stop eating, she should not have a permanent change in her body unless she forces it with her Gem power (gem reform) When Pearl was reforming she had the same type of body, just changing her clothes. (Amethyst and Garnet too) (Also in the above example has an inconsistency with Amethyst and Steven too lol, as I said, this is a problem since season 1, but now is worse)

So how do you explain this …?

(Season 1 original style vs Season 4 chibi shrinking)

Oh, yes, because it’s bad ANIMATION. Neither Pearl nor Garnet should have changes of body proportion.  There is no way to justify why the characters change their body shape so disrespectfully. The way in which Greg gets fat and loses weight does not make sense either.

More examples…. Is established that Connie continued to grow, while Steven was NOT growing like a normal human.

Which is different from shrinking.

Then you got this.

Then following that logic that “Steven is losing weight by doing missions.” Steven is not only losing weight but the humans too. Greg shrinks lose weight and gains weight again. And Connie, a totally common human, not only loses weight, but her body is shrinking to the point that she looks like an 8-year-old badly drawn kid when the same show established that she was growing up, unlike Steven. And in the next episode, she is as she used to be. This show is perfect !! = Bad logic.


It’s  time to accept that the Crew is not perfect, It’s time to accept that this is a huge problem respect to the show. And is the time that the Crew or anyone responsible for its animation/storyboarding does something to fix this.
But if you people the only thing that you do is accept EVERYTHING of this show at the point to portray that all about Steven Universe is perfect, then, you’re part of the problem.
This is not about bully the Crew.This is about them notice as a community, that there is a problem.

This is what SU critical is about.
The fact that the “mainstream SU fandom always portray its critics as hateful jerks’’, is not because they are all bad. Sure there are some bad SU critical. (And not only in SU fandom) But when someone claims that "all the SU critical” is a joke, that’s because you’re just seeing what do you want.

To finish this I’m going to say that I’m happy that it seems that the next episodes to come out don’t see so pretty badly done.

Like other examples…. Well, like this.

That’s why is not quite enough, there are times when the chibi shrinks come back. What you have to do is make clear to the Crew notice that there is a problem here and that they can do it better, as they used to. Always with respect.

PD: Sorry for my mediocre English again

Tattoo My Heart | soulmate!au

Originally posted by 4smols

Summary: Based off the soulmate!au in which any permanent marking you get on your body–like a tattoo–also appears on your soulmate. And Amber gets a lot of tattoos.

Word Count: 6,893

Amber believes in soulmates, but that doesn’t mean she believes in them.

That is to say, she won’t dispute that some people are intrinsically connected–so connected that when a person gets a permanent mark on their body, it also appears on the one they’re bound to. Whether this weird quirk of nature actually means that the two people are destined to be romantically (or even platonically) involved is another matter entirely, as far as Amber is concerned.

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Sticky note, Severus Snape! I was commissioned to do my own take on him. Lucky me, he’s my favorite Harry Potter character. :)

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exile-wrath  asked:

:O what's your beef with trans!fic? I am curious

me: i can sound like an asshole when i talk about this, so maybe i should–

keep in mind, this is all my opinion! you are welcome to disagree!  please don’t take this personally, i’m not calling anyone out, i just want to discuss some broad things i’ve seen in fic, and why it makes me hesitant to read, or very critical of, trans narratives.  so, trans!fic! my problems with trans!fic typically boil down to a number of things:

  • a majority of trans!fic is written in the same style as an origin story. this inherently suggests that this is the major, defining narrative of someone’s life, as everything is typically written with every life event influenced or framed by transition.  i think this really reduces a character to a single dimension, and suggesting that a trans person’s life is exclusively about their transition is kind of degrading.  
  • transition is often seen as this dramatic thing.  “i’m misunderstood, because i’m trans.” “no one will love me, because i’m trans.”  and i hate seeing this narrative and mindset in stories, but also self-perpetuated within the trans community.  transition can be a positive thing, and it should be celebrated.  
    •  i was linked to this lovely article that goes in depth about a lot of things, including how the transmasculine community itself can and does bolster the harmful idea that “the way things are” suggest that trans people are lucky to find anyone at all.  a majority of the trans people i know IRL are in very happy, loving relationships, a majority of them with cis people whose sexual identity assumes their partner is also cis.  
    • i think about how movies like “Boys Don’t Cry,” which are based off of true stories, are celebrated, and suddenly the public consciousness thinks, “this is a narrative that must be celebrated.”  i think this is a good example of how we have to be more critical of our media intake and challenge ourselves to find new, more unique, yet still real and true narratives to pursue and celebrate.  this isn’t an idea that we should let fester, because we’ve already begun to internalize it.  “i’m unloveable because i’m trans.” fuck that.  i might be unloveable because i’m an asshole, or because i fart too much in front of my girlfriend, or because i’m a messy drunk, but it has nothing to do with my gender identity.  
  • a lot of stories featuring trans!narratives, written by both cis and trans writers, are really poorly researched.  i feel like people rely too much on basic knowledge of the transition process, and think (for example, a transmale): okay, you cut your hair, you get on hormones, Things Change, you get surgery, ????, profit.  and that seems to be the outline of literally EVERY FIC.  but not only that, the characters all seem to be making the same decisions, having the same reactions, and experiencing the same changes as they do in every other fic.  every trans body and the way they experience transition, dysphoria, whatever! is different.  when i see a character going through transition, i want to see them making decisions on hormones, surgeries, etc. based on their character, their profession, their life, and i want those things to be EXTREMELY well researched, if you HAVE to get into it (and you don’t– you can literally write about a trans character without writing about ANY of those experiences, and yet.)  again, it feels like people rely too much on the bare elements of the transition experience and their stories in turn go through character erasure, and then the aspects of the transition become less remarkable, less believable, less emotionally poignant, less weighted.  
  • and aGAIN, you don’t have to write about any aspect of transitioning to write about trans characters!  for many people, the way that they interact with their gender identity, especially if they’ve already made steps towards transitioning, doesn’t feature predominately in their life.  
  • on the flipside of that, dysphoria changes shape.  transitioning isn’t a linear thing.  
  • an anon sent me this amazing post, which concisely describes a lot of my gripes as: 2-dimensional “xe transed nonbinarily down the stairs” issuefic, which LMAO ACCURATE
  • where are the stories where people trans people are doing things without reflecting on their Gender Angst or Body Awareness or transition, like??? there are so many potential stories out there. endless.  for the same reason i write m/m fanfiction out of lack of mainstream stories featuring gay characters and gay relationships except when it’s ABOUT being gay or coming out, do i want to see just like, a trans!office!AU.  fuck it, why not?
  • i don’t even want to get into how trans bodies are fetishized and romanticized in a way that really, really creeps me out, and makes me angry (typically just characterizing men as hypermasc women, for example).  there are a lot of assumptions made about trans bodies, especially when writing smut, and then i just have to back out of that fic, and set my computer on fire, and my whole apartment on fire, and move to another state and start a new identity.

in closing, i will always be hesitant to read trans!fic, and above are some of the more common reasons why.  i just like to ask that people question why they want to write a trans narrative, and what they are hoping to achieve through that.  at the same time, i understand there are a lot of young authors out there exploring their gender identity and getting it out through fic, which i respect! but what i’m seeing is just that very narrow experience, like it’s been sliced away from the rest of a person and laid on a slide.  it’s just a sliver of a human identity and experience that maybe adds another interesting layer, but not always, and only so much of life can be informed by that single experience.  be diverse.  celebrate happy narratives. get creative. 

Sticky note Polaroid, Thor and Loki! 

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Third Eye Open Wide Spell

Opening the Third Eye is directly related to the 6th chakra; the psychic chakra, located on the middle of the forehead above the brows. It is closely associated with the “pineal” gland. The pineal gland id dormant in most people,as is the true 3rd eye. French Philosopher Rene Descartes believed the pineal gland to be “the seat of the soul” where mind and body met.

In the average person, the pineal gland is atrophied and dormant. The following exercise will change that. Please read this thoroughly, as much of the exercises I write of are very advanced and can cause problems if one does not do them correctly.

The pineal gland is like a grape in size; like a raisin in most people where it remains dormant.

Opening the third eye/pineal gland:

This is done with a specific tone and chant. You only need to do this exercise for 3 days, afterwards, it is permanent.

The mantra to be used is “Thoh,” pronounced “TOE.” It must be within the correct vibration. Not deep, not high pitched, in-between, like alto range. You will feel it when you hit the correct tone.

  1. Sit with your back straight.
  2. Breathe in through your nose and hold your breath as long as is comfortable- open your jaws so there is a small space between your top and bottom teeth, place the tip of your tongue between the space of your slightly parted teeth.
  3.  Put a very light pressure onto the tongue with your teeth. This is like the same process of saying the “TH” part of the English word “the.” Once your tongue is in position, release your breath slowly through your mouth saying T-H-H-O-H-H in one long exhale (say the word one time pre exhale) Your tongue will be vibrating between your teeth. You should feel the air moving past your tongue and teeth. If this technique is done properly, you will feel a pressure or sensation in your jaw and cheeks. The tone will also vibrate in your 3rd eye. It may take a few seconds to adjust this, don’t worry, just keep going.
  4. Do the above 5 times in a row.
  5.  It is very important the above exercise be done for 3 consecutive days, 24 hours apart. Then it is a done deal.


  1. One of the first experiences is a headache or pressure in the center of the forehead. This sensation may also feel like it is originating from within, usually an inch or more beneath the surface of the forehead. This is a positive indication the pineal gland is awakening and beginning to function in a healthy manner. *Some people can experience a migrane lasting several hours. The severity of the side effects will depend on how atrophied your pineal gland is to begin with.
  2. After the occurence of headache or pressure in the forehead, you may wake up one morning with a throbbing or tingling sensation in your forehead; it may feel like a goose-bump. The feeling may be very intense like something is there. The sensation of pulsing or throbbing will continue throughout the day. This is the final physiological event you will experience after opening the third eye. It indicates your pineal gland is awakened, functioning and alive.


Faster, easier learning and retention Marked increase in intuition Increased creativity Psychic gifts develop and become remarkably stronger and more intense ability to see human auras Clairaudience (psychic hearing) opens up

Note: This is a very powerful exercise and as with all powerful practices, your body will go through discomfort in order to adapt.

“You realize, really, for the first time, just how profoundly Barry and Lup’s relationship has changed. Time is different for the seven of you, than it has been for anyone else who has ever lived. During your 100 year journey, you don’t age, thanks to whatever forces keep putting you back together at the beginning of each year. Your minds stay sharp, you learn skills and languages and new proficiencies. You become remarkably capable adventurers during your voyage on the starblaster. But it’s not just your minds that develop, across this ageless century, something less quantifiable developed too.

Our capacity for love increases with each person we cross paths with throughout our lives, and with each moment we spend with those people, but too often we neglect that part of ourselves in favour of others. And by the time we realize just how important it is, we find ourselves with fewer folks around to practice with. But the seven of you has something that nobody else ever had.


All the time in the world. Time enough to grow indescribably close. Time enough to learn how to care for eachother, how to allow yourselves to be cared for. And in the case of Barry and Lup time enough to fall, deeply and truly, in love.

Barry felt it first. During a particularly challenging year Lup found him crying and she softly and sincerely consoled him, and just for a moment, that professional wall between them came down. And something shown through.

Lup wasn’t far behind. Her moment of realization was a bit more anaculas, during that cycle with the robots Barry helped repair the small pane of a vessel housing a particularly rambunctious spirit and it kept shocking him laughing, and Lup laughed too. And she knew.

This new love, it wasn’t the focus of their journey. Barry worked tiredness to understand each world you traveled to, to understand the Hunger and figure out a way to defeat it. Lup grew furiously in arcane power. Studying the mystical secrets of the planes, hoping to master whatever spell would break your team out of their desperate retreat. But there were moments between those studies, meals shared in secret just the two of them, under the gies of their work. Sightseeing trips for two across these doomed worlds, and that love grew and it grew until it reached the point of all great loves grow toward. The point of, inevitability.

Looking back this performance is where that love that Barry and Lup captivated quietly and cautiously over the last half century truly bloomed. There was romance in every measure, and longing in every note.

And after the performance they take each other’s hands high into the air, and they swoop down for this over the top bow, just laughing at the drama of it all. And the audience cheers, and Barry and Lup laugh and they don’t let each others hands go. And they stop laughing

And they don’t let each others hands go.

And they keep not letting go.

And Lup says, "Barry, do you wanna go talk somewhere for a while?”
And Barry says, “Yeah”
And Lup goes and puts their sheet music up on the pedestal and there’s a flash of light from the cave, and the beautiful duet that they just played is gone from your minds. And seconds later there’s a second flash and the song returns, and there’s a roar of applause from the audience and Barry and Lup’s professor is searching for them in the crowd just hoping to congratulate them.

But their already gone.

Running back up the valley to the conservatory.

Hand in Hand.“

~Griffin McElroy


Prompt: Hello! May I have hcs for bakugo, midoriya, and todoroki with an s/o that’s chill and cool but is actually pretty motherly to her little sister and any other kid who comes to her? I hope you have a good day!            

Requester: Parental Anon

Originally posted by tobiasjc


○ Not really fussed. S/o can deal with the little brats however they want he doesn’t care much

○ Might get a bit irritated if s/o is spending too much time chatting to random children who approached them

○ Bakugou’s good with s/o’s sister though. Like if s/o is spending a lot of time with her or whatever he doesn’t mind as much since that’s family

○ Saves a lot of kids a scary experience though. Bakugou definitely isn’t good with kids so it’s good if s/o is there to deal with them when they approach

○ Thinks it’s kinda cute if he sees his s/o playing around with their younger sibling but wouldn’t tell anyone

Originally posted by osakaxkobe


○ Surprised at first. His s/o usually isn’t so involved and he didn’t expect them to have this side to this extent

○ He thinks it’s super adorable though. It actually makes his heart swell whenever he sees his s/o with kids

○ Probably takes mental notes on how s/o deals with kids in case he has to save them one day, once he becomes a hero

○ Might remark on her motherly trait one day but probably gets flustered trying to compliment her about it

○ An older Midoriya would turn beet red thinking about how s/o might be with children of their own

Originally posted by izukus


○ Simply put, he thinks it’s really sweet

○ People who are good with kids are a bit of a weakness of his and he falls a little more in love with s/o every time he sees them interacting with one

○ He’s not so good at himself either so whenever a child-fan comes to talk to him he leaves it to s/o - which is absolutely partially an excuse to watch them be cute with kids

○ Sometimes he’ll take s/o’s little sister out to the park or something along with s/o

○ Kinda glad that he still gets to experience his s/o’s cool side when they’re alone. He’s glad to get to know more sides of them

No-Passing Zone

*click through to read on ao3

written by: S | @kinetic-elaboration

prompt: “Bellamy observing Clarke while she rants about how everyone is overtaking her when she goes the speed limit” for @thejonderettegirl

word count: 2811

Bellamy looks mostly out the passenger’s side window. It’s disorienting not to be behind the wheel, but at least it gives his thoughts a chance to wander safely. He finds himself in a mental space not quite discrete and clear enough to be captured in words, where what if’s and maybe’s mix with unasked questions, and opportunities seem to open up like the sky behind the shifting of pure white clouds.

Bellamy has known Clarke Griffin for almost four months now and in that time she has become a remarkably close friend.

Last summer, he would have called her an acquaintance. They met in a poli sci class during the summer session at Arkadia Community, and even though they sat next to each other most days, and chatted sometimes before or after class, and even though he always looked forward to seeing her and after they exchanged numbers they’d text sometimes in the evening or at night, he still wouldn’t have said they were terribly close.

Now that the fall semester has started, though, they’ve fallen into a routine and especially easy closeness, one that fills him with comforting security. They’re in the same American History course, where they sit next to each other and pass occasionally snarky notes. After class on Tuesdays, when he doesn’t have work, they hang out in the student center or study together in the library. And most Saturdays, when Clarke’s on shift at Kane’s coffee shop downtown, Bellamy and Octavia stop in for hot chocolate and tea and one of those big black and white cookies, or a muffin, if there are any cranberry ones left. Bellamy has even invited Clarke over to his house a few times. This is not something he normally does. It’s not because he’s ashamed of his little place—he’s quite proud of it, this two-bedroom whose mortgage he pays all by himself, this little life he’s built all by himself—but because he’s not okay with just anyone catching sight of the guilty pleasure fantasy books he leaves out on his coffee table, or Octavia’s blue butterfly backpack left squashed against the couch cushions for the night.

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aquarianvalentine submitted: Alternate denizen presentation

“Hi there. I’ve been making a Sburb session for my friends, and I’ve gotten to the Denizen, and I had an alternate idea than what the comic showed us of how to introduce the denizen, a way that feels like it has more mythological significance. You’re the closest thing to an expert on the denizens, so I though you might have an interesting comment.

Before the Denizen is Woken from its slumber, it is a statue, cold and dead stone, a silent Idol that looks down on the Quest Bed. The events of the Players Quest Awakens the Denizen (although they can be roused early, disastrously) and when that happens, the dead stone billows out into living flesh, becoming the remarkable monsters the Denizens are shown as in the comic. In this form, they can only speak in opaque riddles and their own form of screeching, even to their player, to whom they are highly hostile. Their intent is to kill the player, and in doing so will lay their body upon the Quest bed. In an instant that last for an eternity, the players now free soul (heart) can speak with the pure form of the denizen, who no longer speaks in riddles and onomatopoeias, although they are still cryptic. Here, the denizen reveals everything about the players aspect, as well as much about the world, and questions them for their motivation, why they want to keep fighting on, and finally gives them their choice. Once the choice is made, the player revives as god tier. They can now speak with the monstrous Denizen, though no-one else can understand.

I like this better, because it gives an explanation of how players become god tier. Vriska cheated to become god tier, and tricked John into it. Jack only knew to put the dead jade onto the slab because he saw John, rose and Dave just happened to be on a spare set of beds, and the Alphas were struggling with the idea of killing themselves when they blew up, taking the choice out of their hands. This works fine in the story, but not so much for a group of people actually pretending to play the game. That either makes me have to set up contrived story events that happen to kill all of them in the right place the right time, or ask them to kill themselves, and that ends up being thm trying to role play considering to commit suicide which is a nearly impossible choice, or them automatically taking the power gamer option and immediately offing themselves, cause it’s a Game and there are no consequences, which ruins the tone.

So the problem becomes this: how do I make the denizen killing them not contrived? Maybe I’d the denizen represents something they can’t get over in themselves, maybe. Any suggestions?”

Well, I wouldn’t say this is what happens in canon. We know for a fact that Denizens dont want to kill the players, Vriska even said hers kept trying to speak with her all throughout the battle and was dodging her the whole time Vriska fought her. Vriska thought this was dull and boring for a supposed “boss fight” and we know pre god tier players can speak to their Denizens, Karkat proves as much

The Choice is all inherent in how you perceive the denizens, the choice is, basically, to listen to what they have to tell you, or reject it (speak to them or kill them) and what they have to tell you is only relevant to you personally. But they always want to speak to you first, we know this

What happens is most people simply perceive them as end boss monsters causing problems on their lands and provoke them into fighting by attacking them before they have a chance to speak

However nothing says that you personally can’t do it your way, the way you describe can simply be how it is for you on your land, though I don’t know what growth you’d get over the figure meant to help you grow instead just wanting to kill you upon sight, but thats something for you to figure out

but your main issue seems to be with the god tiering process yeah? This is something separate than the denizens, Vriska didn’t cheat at god tiering nor did John, they did what they were supposed to do, which was die upon a quest bed. How you die doesn’t matter in the equation, all that matters is that your dead body ends up in the quest bed in time. It doesn’t have to be by denizen, it doesn’t have to be suicide, you just have to be dead. It’s not “cheating the rules” to die by some other means

so all your valid options are

1) you simply set up story events/villains/denizens to kill them at the right place at the right time, who says you can’t just ask your denizen to ritually kill you when you get to the quest bed?

2) have them do it themselves by committing suicide. It’s not an impossible choice, theres always that fear of death that prevents people, but the power in the god tier comes from the fact that you were able to go past death the first time, you become immortal by getting rid of the thing that made you mortal, pretty typical god making process from a greek myth perspective. 

I’m not sure where your getting that theres needs to be a consqeuence for this process though? there already is one in that they are dying with not 100% knowing that they will revive right after. The game says they will sure, but they are making a leap of faith in believing that to be true. Even the alpha kids struggled with this and half heartedly tossed around the idea of offing each other or someone going first to see if its true and the other could follow, but someone, the first person to move, is acting on faith that it will be true, without knowing that it will be.

so yeah, you can do whatever you like for your land in particular, the way you describe can totally be how it is for you, I just wouldn’t say that that’s how Vriska or John did it yknow?