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1) You were the reason I bettered myself, and had a reason to believe in a future, to cling onto hope and positivity. But now you are the one who makes me loath having to think of the future, even if it’s just tomorrow.
2) You were the clear skies within my sunny days, giving my heart a warmth at the mere sound of your voice. Now you are tornado, whose words only destroys my mind.
3) You were the dreams I yearned for at night. The bliss of being able to escape far away from reality with you and solely you and now you are the cruel truth that follows me wherever I go.
4) You were the chance I had never been given. The light at the end of the tunnel, making sure my bad days will finally end. Now you’re nothing but shaking hands and darkness all around.
5) You were the reason I woke up in the mornings and loved the smell of coffee and messy sheets, because it reminded me of another day of you. Now you’re nothing but late night screaming from the nightmares you’ve filled me up with.
6) You were the blonde hair blue eyed boy tumblr warned me about. The crystal drug that had me addicted and wanting me of your sweetness, but now I’m addicted and i don’t have any more of you.
7) You were the sunsets that left me breathless, because every sunset was different, just like every smile you’ve ever given me. Now your just the sun behind the clouds that I can never see again,
8) You were the deep sighs and relaxed fists that never were clenched, all the loose hair and goosebumps on my skin, the hidden smiles behind handsbut you’re now nothing more then arms wrapped around my lungs, hands breaking my bones.
9) You were the stars in my universe, leaving me in awe at the beauty you filled me up with, making me fill more then just a speck in light years of nothingness. Now you are just a black hole swallowing me whole.
10) You were the love of my life, the keeper of my secrets, the friend I could always count on, the person I wanted to share everything and nothing with all at the same time, now you’re just a person with memories.
—  10 things you used to be to me that I will never be able to tell you not that you care anymore.
10 Wardrobe Essentials for Larme Kei

There’s been a surge of interest in larme kei of late, and as others have noted, this has also resulted in major misconceptions about what larme kei is. Since this has been covered at length on other tumblrs, I’m going to focus instead on answering the big question that inevitably pops up after, namely, what should a larme kei wardrobe have?

In this post, I’m going to recommend 10 wardrobe essentials for the larme look. There are a few things readers should note:

A: I will be omitting some items that others may deem essential because this list focuses on versatility. For instance, I have completely omitted one-pieces from this list because they tend to fit into niche larme looks, which not everyone may be aiming or suited for.

B: Almost everything on this list is in my own wardrobe. I selected them based on the following criteria: Can you find them outside of Japan in regular shops like H&M? Can they be combined with other items for a wide variety of looks? Are they wearable all year round?

C: Most things on the list are in black or white because these two colours offer the most utility. That said, do feel free to get them in other colours to suit your own style.

(Brands: Bubbles; Axes Femme)


Lace blouses are perfect for creating a more mature vibe to your outfit and easily paired with bustiers or camisoles. There’s a huge range to choose from, especially in terms of sleeve lengths and collar styles. If you’re worried about seeming too risque or just catching a cold, you can always pair the lace blouse with a cardigan.

Extra larme points for: puffed sleeves

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halerogers  asked:

sterek + 7? <3

“I forgot how much I hate you,” Stiles grumbled sullenly as he slid into the passenger seat of the Camaro.
He was careful not to jostle his skinned knee as he shifted around to get more comfortable. With a beleaguered grunt, he crossed his scratched up arms over his chest.
He was beyond done. Mostly because he was covered in fairy guts and tiny bits of bone, his hair matted with thick, dark blood that fucking sparkled. Because apparently fairy blood fucking sparkled.
His arms stung where the fairies had mercilessly slashed him up, their tiny claws surprisingly sharp and unbearably painful when they pierced his flesh. His left knee was still bleeding from where he had scraped it on a rock after Isaac had accidentally knocked him over.
His ears still ached from the shrill banshee-like screams the fairies had let out as they had attacked. It was bad enough to almost make him wince in sympathy for the werewolves whose ears were probably still ringing.
But sympathy would have to wait since it was the werewolves’ fault that he was grimy and dirty and covered in sparkling blood, in desperate need of a long, hot shower at midnight on a school night. Unfortunately, his shower had to wait, too, since Derek had taken his sweet time burying the sharp toothed little bastards, gathering up their remains and dumping them into a deep hole by the treeline.
The rest of the pack had already taken off in that white suburban mom’s excuse of a Toyota that Derek had loaned Boyd for the night. All of the betas had crammed in so tight it would have made a sardine feel claustrophobic.
Regardless of the tight confines, Stiles had valiantly attempted to get a seat in the Toyota. But Isaac, the little fucking cheat, had beat him in rock, paper, scissors, leaving Stiles stuck behind, having to catch a ride home with Derek.
Speaking of the perpetually grumpy alpha, he was fastening his seatbelt in the driver’s seat. He rolled his eyes at Stiles’ petulant comment, very clearly unamused.
But Stiles didn’t really care how annoyed Derek was with him considering the fact that he was beyond pissed off at the Derek. So much so that he refused to bite his tongue any longer than he already had.
“I can’t believe you called me for that,” Stiles hissed as Derek started the Camaro’s engine that roared to life with a deep purr. He flicked on the headlights that cut through the murky darkness of the preserve, shining a bright beam through the thicket of oak trees the fairies had erupted out of.
The same frolic of fairies that had been almost comically easy to dispose of. A few claw swipes here and a couple swats of their hands there and the fairies had been completely finished, the entire horde decimated.
Beyond frustrated, Stiles said as much, viciously growling out, “Fairies. Fucking fairies. Not even a full court of fairies. It took about half an hour to get rid of the little bastards! You should’ve just handled it yourself instead of completely ruining my night!”
Derek rolled his eyes again as he put the Camaro into gear. As he did a tight, efficient K-turn before heading out towards the road, he voiced his disagreement, casually dismissing, “It was just a date, Stiles. It’s not the end of the world.”
Stiles let out a frustrated groan as he unfolded his arms, throwing his hands up in pure exasperation. Because of course Derek didn’t understand. Why in the hell would he?
Derek was god’s gift to the earth and everyone knew it. He was sweet and smart and strong and good looking. Like, unearthly good looking. Unfairly good looking.
With all his dark stubble and thick hair, his incredible physique and chiseled features, he was a veritable Adonis. A runaway runway model strutting around Beacon Hills in all his glory.
It was no wonder that Derek had people drooling over him no matter where he went, whether it was the grocery store or the post office or the freaking gas station for Christ’s sake. Young women and elderly women alike never failed to ogle the handsome alpha.
Stiles had even seen a nun check out Derek’s ass once. A nun. Because Derek was so unbelievably gorgeous that it made people break their sacred vows to resist the temptations of the flesh.
In short, Derek was basically six feet of beautiful badass-ery which was he had no idea why the date had been such a big deal for Stiles. Because unlike Derek who had a dangerously sharp jawline and high cheekbones and a devastatingly gorgeous smile, Stiles was one hundred and forty seven pounds of pasty skin and flailing limbs.
Where Derek was muscular and strong, Stiles was scrawny and wiry, barely able to make it through the high school’s presidential fitness test. Where Derek was graceful and charming, Stiles tripped over his own feet and suffered from a perpetual bout of verbal diarrhea.
Where Derek was seamlessly able to draw anyone’s eye, Stiles was lucky if people even noticed him walk into a room. Hell, he had actually been marked absent a few times because he was so painfully unremarkable.
Being ignored and overlooked was essentially a very succinct summary of his entire high school experience. Which was why he had been so excited when Adam had asked him out.
Adam was the captain of the school’s soccer team, a highly decorated striker with a record amount of goals under his belt. He was one of the popular kids who drove a fancy foreign car and threw parties at his palatial home every weekend.
With his pale blonde hair and deep green eyes, he was model gorgeous. He had tons of people, both men and women, fawning over him left and right. Which was why Stiles could still hardly believe that Adam had asked him out.
He had been doodling in the margins of his statistics notebook in class, having already skipped several chapters ahead in the textbook, when someone had tossed a note onto his desk. Careful not to let Ms. Fleming see him reading it, Stiles had discreetly unfolded the little square of notebook paper to find a hastily scrawled message.
It was from Adam, a quick note asking Stiles out that Sunday. A phone number had been included.
After class, Stiles had punched the number into his cell phone and sent a text to ask where they were going. According to the response, they would be going to some fancy cafe that Stiles hadn’t even known was in Beacon Hills.
Admittedly, Stiles had been extremely skeptical at first. He had been convinced that it was some sort of elaborate prank, a cruel joke thought up by some asshole. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.
So, on Sunday evening, he had sat on his front porch in his nicest pair of jeans and a brand new button up, half expecting Adam to not show up at all. But at eight forty three, Adam had pulled up in his ritzy dark blue Lexus, looking sinfully good in a tight t-shirt and dark skinny jeans.
After letting his dad know that he was leaving, he had climbed into the passenger seat and they had sped off to Café Rouge.
Things had been going pretty great. They had talked about upcoming tests and college applications while they sipped overly expensive lattes on the outdoor patio.
Stiles managed not to embarrass himself by rambling or bringing up anything that might send Adam running for the hills. He even managed to forget about the supernatural craziness that was his life for a little bit.
For his part, Adam had talked about himself enough to be slightly annoying. But he made up for it by leaning in close like he was going to kiss him.
Predictably, it was right then that Stiles’ cell phone had rung with Derek’s ringtone. All of sudden, the peaceful atmosphere of the cafe had been rudely interrupted by the chorus of Hungry Like the Wolf playing obnoxiously loud.
With a heavy sigh, Stiles had apologized to Adam and begrudgingly answered his phone. Derek rarely called unless it was an emergency.
Derek had growled out that the pack needed some help with a group of fairies that were encroaching on Hale territory. He had been even more impatient than usual, demanding to know where Stiles was.
With another deep sigh, Stiles had given Derek the name of the cafe. After hanging up, he had apologized to Adam again, claiming that he had to help his friend out with something, insisting that it was an emergency.
Derek pulled up in the Camaro a few minutes later to drive Stiles to the preserve. Once there, they had spent two hours trekking through the thick underbrush of the forest in search of the fairies’ hideout.
They finally found them in a grove of oak trees, hiding in the hollowed trunk of one of the older trees. The second the pack was within a three foot radius of their tree, the little bastards had attacked.
As per usual, Stiles had been the prime target. Half an hour later he was all clawed to hell, with skinned knees, a split lip, and a ruined shirt.
All in all, the night that had started out rather hopeful had been dragged through the mud. It wasn’t as though he was all that into Adam but since the guy he had been pining over for years had never shown any interest in him, he figured it was the best he was going to get.
And Derek just had to ruin it.
“Fuck you,” Stiles spat as Derek made a left turn, heading back towards town. “It wasn’t just a date, asshole.”
“I’m sorry, was it your anniversary?” Derek sniped back as he leaned over to turn on Stiles’ heat warmer. But if he thought that would be enough to placate Stiles, he was dead wrong.
“No, jackass,” Stiles retorted, turning his head to stare out the window at the passing scenery. Growling under his breath, he continued, “It was our first date. My first date.”
The Camaro lurched to a sudden stop when Derek belatedly stomped on the brakes, coming close to blowing past a stop sign. He whipped his head to the side to gawk at Stiles, incredulously demanding, “What?”
Stiles bristled, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to meet Derek’s gaze with a glare. Curling his lip, he defensively snapped, “What do you mean ‘what’?”
“You’ve never been on a date before?” Derek elaborated, his brows knitting together. The disbelief in his tone made Stiles even more defensive.
“Yeah, so what?” Stiles snarled, narrowing his eyes at the alpha. Gritting his teeth, he informed Derek, “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really have people beating a path to my door.”
“But you’ve never been on a date before?” Derek reiterated, his voice thick with confusion. It grated on Stiles’ nerves like nothing else. He was about to snap at Derek when the alpha glanced down and mumbled, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What the hell are you talking about, dude?” Stiles demanded. “It makes perfect sense. I’m just some skinny little nerd who can’t shut up to save his life. Not exactly prime dating material.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Derek thundered, tightening his grip on the steering wheel until the vinyl cried out in protest. His jaw was tight as he gravely announced, “You’re brave, loyal, incredibly smart, good looking… Anyone would be lucky to go out with you.”
“But then…” Stiles trailed off uncertainly, dropping his arms. He lowered his eyes to his lap as he softly mumbled, “Why haven’t you ever asked me out?”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, awkwardness thick in the air between them. Surprisingly, Derek was the one who broke it.
“Next Friday,” he said quietly. “I’ll take you to the diner on Fifth. You can get as many curly fries as you want and you can talk my ear off about whatever you want. I… I can pick you up at seven?”
“Yeah…” Stiles breathed, sure that he was dreaming. If he was, he never wanted to wake up.
Without another word, Derek stepped on the gas. They drove further into town, leaving the preserve behind for now.
Smiling to himself, Stiles reached over to tug one of Derek’s hands off of the steering wheel, intertwining their fingers. As he ran his thumb over Derek’s knuckles he thought about how he would explain things to Adam.
Because he loved Derek more than anything. And that was something he would never forget.

That anon from earlier got me thinking.

Sometimes I worry that Scarecrow will become too popular and stores like Spencer’s and Hot Topic will be littered with weird merchandise like shot glasses, burlap themed lingerie, baby clothes, purses with scarecrow’s symbol on them, Professor Crane™ brand perfume and cologne, buttons and key chains that say “hroo hraa”


Actually, I’d buy most of that stuff anyway.

also can i say how dissapointed i am in jack rn??

youtube sends him a brand new play button before anyone else, and it even has mini playbuttons for each of his subscribers

and what does jack do??


i mean how selfish can you be to do that??? the jack i knew when i subscribed two years ago would’ve never done that! you’ve changed man…..

i bet those tears werent even real smh

We have some fantastic freebies this year prepped and ready to go for Anime Expo 2017! Drop by and pick up one of our art books, everyone’s favorite stickers, redesigned postcards, and our brand new buttons! Stop by Booth 4418 in the exhibit hall to get your set of Jesus Otaku swag! Supplies are limited so be sure to come by as soon as you can.

anonymous asked:

I've seen you mention "certification" in a number of your posts - what is game certification? What authority grants certification, and are they looking for when they decided whether or not to give it out? Why do games even need to be certified in the first place? (What stops you from selling an un-certified game if you deem it meets your own quality standards? I'd imagine the heaps of low-effort content on Steam or the App Store haven't gone through any such process.)

Certification is the process by which the platform owners grant legal licenses for specific games to be sold on their platforms. A platform is generally regarded as the hardware that the game runs on, so the Playstation 4 has its certification process for games to obtain official permission from Sony to be sold. Microsoft has its own certification process, as does Nintendo. PC has had no certification process because there isn’t any one rights holder to PC. IOS and Android have developed certification processes, but they are much looser (and cheaper) than console certification.

Certification on consoles requires meeting a set of requirements. Some of these are about providing a minimum bar of quality for the player - the game can’t crash, it can’t freeze, it can’t have load times that are too long. Some of them are about keeping it consistent with the brand - all button prompts in game must use the exact Playstation X, O, Square, and Triangle button images, all mentions of the playstation network must use the right capitalization and have the trademark symbol. The actual certification criteria are always changing and generally kept secret. Publishers must submit their games to the platform’s certification department who will test the game for several days, then tell the publisher that the game has passed, or failed along with a (sometimes partial) list of issues that must be fixed/changed before the game can be resubmitted.

The biggest issue with the certification process on consoles is that it’s expensive. Like… traditionally in the hundreds of thousands of dollars range per submission. The cost of certification combined with the cost of development hardware (dev kits usually cost between $5,000 and $10,000) has been the traditional barrier that kept indie and smaller devs out of console game development. Because of the secrecy and cost, most publishers have invested in their own internal certification teams to reverse engineer the platform certification processes in order to weed out the issues other titles had been held back for without having to spend so much money to attempt the actual certification process. The internal cert teams push back on issues they know are criteria for certification so that they can be fixed and actual submission candidates have a higher chance of passing on the first attempt.

As you may have surmised, certification is actually not required to sell a game. However, it’s awfully hard to sell a game for the Playstation when you aren’t legally allowed to use the word “Playstation” in any of your advertising material. There’s a good reason for this whole process - platform wants to ensure a consistent minimum bar of quality for the games being sold for their machines, and they want to protect their brands. After all, most consoles are loss leaders - the manufacturers sell them at a sizable loss in order to earn money from things like the certification process and their ~30% cut from each licensed game sale. They don’t want poorly-performing software diluting consumer confidence in their brand.

Got a burning question you want answered?


The Goth Detectives are back god bless us all!! (from) xx

anonymous asked:

do you ever shut the fuck up like honestly you're so tiring

oh I have great news there’s a magical new feature staff just rolled out called ‘unfollowing’ (you can find the button on the top right of my blog if you click on my URL) and it means you don’t have to see my posts again !! great news! (while you’re there you might like the brand-new 'block’ button too? it means we’d never have to have another one of these interactions again & you’d never have to see me not shutting the fuck up again!)

Impasto | Chapter One

Author’s Note: @your-miss-right I thank blame you entirely for this inspiration, as well as this post that started it all. Professor Namjoon, everyone. Not sure how many parts yet. Tagging @jinhyong, @park-jimeme who wish to be so.

Genre: Fluff 

→ two




  1. the process or technique of laying on paint or pigment thickly so that it stands out from a surface, to convey high emotion.
  2. a technique of painting unabashedly proud to be textured, existing to show off brush and palette knife marks

Black coffee in one hand and a new leather bag slung over his shoulder, Namjoon’s patent shoes clicked upon the cement pavement as he walked; the blissful autumn morning sun shined upon his skin, basking him in a wonderful warmth. For all intents and purposes, today was beautiful, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

But the nerves that were going haywire inside his brain said otherwise.

Keep reading

Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis
Brand New
Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis

365 Days of Music- Day 74: Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis//Brand New

Brass buttons on your coat hold the cold
In the shape of a heart that they cut out of stone
You’re using all your looks that you’ve thrown from the start
If you let me have my way I swear I’ll tear you apart
‘cause it’s all you can be
You’re a drunk and you’re scared
It’s ladies’ night, all the girls drink for free


Before and after photos of the restoration of a J.Higham cornet. This cornet is from the turn of the century, and came in through the post packed in a wine box. It was beaten up and had several leaks, broken finger hook, missing finger button, no water key, and generally in a pretty bad state.

Now it plays beautifully, with filled splits, sleeved tubes, lapped valves, polished slides, new springs, felts, water key with matching screw, and a brand new finger button made from a flute key. This took a lot of work, but the customer was so pleased they called me as soon as they got it, and with a shake in their voice, thanked me from the bottom of their heart. That made it all worth while.