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As some of you already know I am not only a cosplayer but also a colorist. I use many different forms of media for coloring. For this post, I will be showcasing my digital colors. Stay tuned for hand colors ;) These are all available as prints on my store http://183degree.storenvy.com and can be combined with my cosplay prints.

Please comment and let me know what you think and if you are interested in having me color some of your artwork please hit me up ;)

 

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Variant cover of Home by Todd Black. Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Cover of Twisted Futures by Michael Bradley. Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Club Cosplay piece. Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Ken Hunt
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Brian Salinas
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
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Lines by Alfred Trujillo
Digital Colors! As some of you already know I am not only a cosplayer but also a colorist. I use many different forms of media for coloring.
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1/13/17 @coldsunnyday The ducks aren’t actually green. They’re untrustworthy creatures, and they’re lying about what color they are. Don’t listen to them.

It’s an optical illusion called “structural color.” Their feathers are black. The fluffy side bits of the feathers (barbs) are also black. The little hooks that keep the barbs all lined up (barbules) are also black. There are microscopic little ridges (tubules) on the barbules that are also black. But the tubules are exactly the same size as a wavelength of green light, so instead of absorbing green light the way a black object should, they reflect it and the ducks look green. 

If you put one of the ducks under a good enough microscope, you’d see that no individual part of it was actually green in any way.

Avian biology generally can’t produce blue or green pigments. Birds that look blue or green are lying about it. Don’t trust them.

Except for turacos. They’re actually green, and very pleased with themselves about it. Look at this guy, here’s a bird you can trust:

anonymous asked:

Hello, if you have the time, could you explain how hair lines work?? specifically on men because I am struggling :-(

Well, I can give you some tips based on how I do it. Your mileage may vary.

I mainly figure out where my dudes’ hairlines are supposed to be based on the physical landmarks of the head. Here’s a generic head I drew up that highlights those parts. It’s not realistically accurate since these are TF2-ish proportions, but it does involve knowledge of actual anatomy, which isn’t as scary as it sounds.

1-3 are self-explanatory. 4 is that slight bony ridge around that little depressed area behind your forehead on the sides. 5 is the bump of the base of your skull where it meets your neck muscle.

Also, notice where things line up, since these are clues to help you lock things in place and keep facial features from floating around too much. For example, the top of the ear generally lines up with the eyeline and the bottom with the mouth. There are lots of little tricks like that.

And here’s a generic hairline based on these landmarks.

Of course, reference is also going to help you out a bunch here. The above approximation is just meant to give a basic idea of where a hairline would be. Like fingerprints, everyone’s hairline is unique. Depending on your character, you should feel free to mix it up!

These are just a few slight variations, to give you an idea of what I mean: rounded, pointy, and receding. Once I have my hairline roughed in, I pick where the hair part is (if there is one) and sketch in the hair, following the natural growth pattern of hair.

You can get nearly infinite variations! Get wacky with it! And there’s no one 100% correct way to draw a hairline (or anything else, for that matter) so don’t get too hung up on not doing it wrong. Practice until you’re comfortable, and you’ll be winging it in no time.

Hamilton characters as things my friends have said
  • Alexander: -about a broken oven- i will be your oven...and roAST YOU
  • Burr: maybe I should tell him my backstory and he'll go away right away
  • Mulligan: i was a pervy child i think...i don't remember
  • Lafayette: -screeches in a foreign language-
  • Laurens: -after learning a corgi's butt floats- rain drop drop top his booty go bop bop
  • Washington: yes, while i may have gotten all i needed to get done, i am dead inside
  • Peggy: i have the courage of a chicken nugget
  • Angelica: i like my boys how i like my liz; stoic and ready to start a revolution
  • Eliza: i just want to make lots of money so we can gift each other things
  • Jefferson: so yeah, unless you're married or own an aerosmith tee strAIGHT FROM THE SEVENTIES...get out
  • Madison: i accidentally listened to its quiet uptown and ruined my life
  • King George: I do not like the 4th
You should date a girl who reads. Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn. She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book. Buy her another cup of coffee. Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice. It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. She has to give it a shot somehow. Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two. Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series. If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype. You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots. Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads. Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Rosemarie Urquico

This is for the one’s who were forced into adulthood,
never getting the chance to be a kid.
Never getting the chance to run in the rain,
play in the sand,
spill milk without crying,
fall asleep without fear.

For the one’s who cried themselves to sleep each night
praying to a god that they didn’t even believe in,
desperately trying to find the strength to go on.

This is for the one’s with broken wings
and a stolen halo,
for the one’s who forgot how to fly.

For the one’s who feared coming home from school,
the one’s who covered up their bruises with long sleeves and make-up,
and crawled under the bed at night because that was the only place they felt okay.
For the one’s who only felt safe
behind a door, a mask, a blanket, the bottom of a bed,
the one’s who only felt safe when they were hiding.

This is for the one’s who were afraid of the dark,
the one’s who could only fall asleep if the light was burning in the hall.
The one’s who were friends with the monsters underneath their bed
because they were kinder
than the monsters in their homes,
and in their heads.

For the one’s who had to sit on the lap
of someone who threatened them,
berated them,
touched them.
The one’s who were too young to understand;
understand why it was happening,
and why they would cry and scream
but still no one responded to their pain.

This is for the one’s who lost their childhood innocence
to an impure caress,
to dirty eyes,
to private parts,
to rough hands and razor blades.
The one’s who blame themselves
for everything everything everything.

This one is for you,
you there with the big blood shot eyes,
the shaky hands,
and the dirty fingernails.

For you when you take a bath
and you breathe in as hard as you can and
submerge yourself under water,
in hopes that you can stay down long enough
to never come back up again,
except when your corpse floats to the top.

For you,
when you lay the sharp edge of a razor blade vertical
to the biggest vein on your wrist,
and think about how easy it would be to just cut.
For you when tears pour from your swollen eyes,
and you put the blade down on the counter.
For you when you curse yourself
for being too weak to go through with it,
again. 

For you when you feel like you can’t breathe.
And when you decide you breathe best
when you stop breathing altogether.

For you, 
you who wants to forget,
you who wants to “sleep it off”.
For you when you pour your bottle of Ambien 
out onto your shaking palm
and you stare at all the little pills,
knowing that you have enough to go to sleep
and never wake up again.
For you when you put your palm up to your mouth,
ready to swallow every single pill,
only to stop
because you have to go to work tomorrow,
and who will feed your cat in the morning?
Who will tell your best friend to remember to finish her homework,
and who will drive your little brother to band practice?
This one is for you 
when you put the pills back in the bottle,
and then curse yourself all over again
for being
so
fucking
weak.

This one is for you;
for living day after day in this hell that feels ice cold.

For you, putting those pills back in their bottle,
not because you are weak,
but because you are needed,
and you know you have to continue to see at least one more tomorrow.

For you, taking the blade off your wrist,
and putting it back in its hiding spot,
not because you are weak,
but because you are brave enough to hang onto your life for one more day.

For you, bringing yourself up and out of the water
not because you can’t hold your breath any longer.
You know you could stop breathing forever.
But because you remember what it was like to be forced
into holding your breath,
and you would rather live to see another day
than feel like you are suffocating all over again.
And for you, because secretly,
you want to keep breathing, at least
for a little bit longer.

This one is for you,
for us,
for the children raised on hatred
and broken beer bottles
and cigarette ashes
and razor blades and private parts and violation and sweat and fists and black-blue bruises and tears and shame
and regret.

This one’s for us,
the children who were forced to grow up too fast,
and were never once given permission
to look back.

This one is for us,
for saying, “fuck it,” at those who told us we needed permission.
Fuck it to people who don’t allow us to be ourselves.
Fuck it to forgetting about the past, 
and fuck it to letting that past define our future.

Here’s to looking back,
here’s to starting over,
here’s to healing.

This one’s for us.

—  Ayla Mae, Cheers

sagethedinosaur  asked:

for @broadjay (the betta bowl ask) if you truly cannot get a tank for the fish (which I understand can be basically impossible for families that aren't willing to listen) then 1. do not put a heater in. I know that this sucks for the fish, but putting a heater into such a small amount of water causes the water temp to fluctuate and get way too hot. 2. Because the bowl is so small I would recommend doing a 30% water change every 2-3 days. Don't do a 100% unless you really need to because it 1/2

it can cause the fish to go into shock and die if it’s not properly acclaimed. If the water’s really dirty, which it can get in such a small space, you can do a 50%ish percent change. 3. Make sure to dechlorinate the new water you’re putting in! This is very important. If you don’t have access to a dechlorinator due to family or money reasons, fill a separate bowl with water and leave it to sit for a few days, that should do the trick. 4. When putting you fish back in, put your fish back in slowly, and do not add the new water all at once, spread it over a few minutes, this will help prevent shock. 5. as far as enrichment goes, if you can get a ping pong ball and a later pointer (like the ones made for cats) sterilize the ping pong ball in the dishwasher and let it float on top of your fish’s water. Move the later pointer around (outside of the bowl!!) so that your fish follows it. Both of these things are methods of enrichment and these methods of enrichment work because betas are predators and are also very curious!!! 6. If your family won’t let you get a tank due to money reasons, I know that Petco (petsmart? one of those) has a $1 per gallon sale once a year that can be very nice. 5 or 10 gallons would be good. 10 is better, of course, but 5 will do if your parents don’t want it to take up too much space. Also check craigslist for a betta bowl! Make sure that any decorations that are in your bettas bowl you can run along pantyhose without them ripping. If they rip the pantyhose, it’ll rip your fish’s fins. It will try to stay away from sharp things, but things happen and by staying away it will basically half the amount of room it has. Also! If your are somehow able to get a tank, longer is better than taller. Betta’s would rather swim side to side than up and down because it’s more natural for them. I hope all goes well.

A great submission about betta care re: the ask where the OP can’t convince family to upgrade their betta from a bowl. 

“I quite enjoy my life here.  A quiet, peaceful, and relaxing life.  I have no intention of throwing that away.” - Nagai Kei

Not my best work but I can only get better from here! ✨🌟

Tough Days

pairing: poly!hamilsquad x reader

word count: 2600 

warnings: swearing, sadness, suicidal-ish thoughts???

prompt/request: “Maybe you could make one where reader’s having a really bad day and the Hamilsquad find them and comfort them (one of them more than others)?” from an anon

a/n: this is a lot like other sad ones i and other people have written and i didnt proofread this cuz i got too sad and also this is my first time doing poly!hamilsquad stuff and its probs bad but!!! i hope you enjoy either way!!!


The second you got home, you threw your phone on the couch, stripped off all of your clothes, and climbed under the duvet on your bed, wrapping it around yourself and not even thinking about when you planned on coming out.

Things had been really… tough lately, to say the least. You felt like every day poked and prodded at your brain until, eventually, it started bleeding and, eventually, the bleeding never really stopped. You were always worrying, about work or the boys or about your weight or how much food you were or weren’t eating, and you were always thinking about what you had to do next. What you had to prepare for. What if there was a fire? Which one of the boys would be strong enough to carry one or hopefully two of you out of the burning apartment building? If you spilled on your white blouse, how would you get the stain out? When you couldn’t get a ride home, would you bus, or would you call one of the boys? Should you call one of the boys? What were the signs of a stroke – you didn’t remember, and what if someone around you was having one? What if someone came into your work with a gun? What would you do? What are you doing? With your life?

You groaned slightly as the blanket peeled back, revealing a happy but also slightly concerned John Laurens, one of your boyfriends, floating over top of you. It took a moment for you to adjust to the light – he must’ve turned on the overhead when he walked in – and, when you had, you poked out your head further into the world to see his legs on either side of you, practically pinning you down.

“Hey, baby,” John greeted when he saw you, leaning down and placing a kiss softly on your mouth. “What are you doin’ underhere? Ain’t it a bit dark?”

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Voltron High School Au

Buckle up, cause this is a mess from start to finish

  • Lance and Keith suddenly start an old west standoff in the hallway during passing period
    • The freshies are very confused
  • Pidge: “Lockers are for dumbasses.“ 
    • Bends over to tie shoe. Gets crushed under the weight of their backpack
  • Senior year Shiro just dropped and started twirking in the middle of the Annual Lunch Room Dance OffTM
    • The supposed prize is free HC tickets
    • But we all know the real reward is hilarity and scrutinization
  • Pidge vowed murder when the Sophmores held up a ‘George shoots Lenny’ sign during an assembly freshman year
    • They were ironically the one to replace the sign come next year
    • They also happened to be the one to start the ‘fuck the freshmen’ chant during HC
    • Sendak was too busy laughing his ass of to repremand them in anyway
  • Lance’s the kid that blasts marache music during passing periods
    • Keith’s the one that tries to shove the speaker down his throat
    • He also managed to fit Lance into a locker one year
      • It was all for shit and giggles until Lance got stuck
        • A custodian only helped him out after taking pictures
        • …Which then circulated around the school
          • Shay found it very amusing
          • Lance’s mother did not
  • Speaking of Shay, she made ‘the SH-A’ club for variants of the name (Shea, Shae, Sheala, Shealin, etc.)
    • It’s surprisingly popular and meets twice a month
    • They bake brownies and plot the drill teams murder
  • Teacher: I can hear you music.”
    • Allura: “Good.”
  • Hunks the kid that plays Neko Atsume under the desk in class
  • That one time Shiro almost dropped sodium in water
  • That other time he nearly killed the FACS teacher with his cooking
  • When Pidge tried to bargain with the lunch ladies
    • All they wanted was a cookie
    • And vengeance
    • It’s always vengeance tbh
  • Hunk fainted in the middle of gym, woke up, then started speaking French for a solid ten minutes before switching back to English
    • He remembers none of it
    • The only reason no one freaked was cause it was SAT week
    • Really, it’s a reasonable explanation 
  • Shay met the team when she accidentally punched Shiro in the face
    • Let’s just say it had to do with salt and vinegar potato chips and a bottle of hand sanitizer
  • Keith somehow managed to get out of swim gym by convincing the teacher he was half mermaid
  • Lance tried  jumping out a first floor window during a fire drill
    • Said it was optimum time to 'flunk outta finals’
    • He was also the kid to have a stress induced heart attack and come back to school the next day
      • (*shrugs* “I had a project due.”)
  • Hunk accidentally attended detention once
    • He meant to go to the test make up room
    • Instead he was stuck next to the kid who shoved the starting quarterback down the English wing stairs
    • And that, my dear friends, is how Hunk meet Keith
  • Oh, and Shiro threw up in someone’s gym locker once
    • It was Hunk’s
    • Oops
  • That one time someone tried to sell pot to Pidge and failed miserably
  • Tbt when Keith wrote 'welcome to hell’ under the school sign
    • Then proceeded to get dragged into the principals office by the leg
      • Thanks for that, Sendak
    • He also managed to get a HC float on top of their rival schools roof without getting caught
    • The dude’s a legend among the student body
  • Coran’s the random, Irish accented English teacher that’s obsessed with stories involving fire and over the top analytics of LOTF
    • He also spends more time talking about Froid, Maslov, and Kohlberg’s theories than the actual book
  • Lance is the kid that calls teachers by their first name and somehow doesn’t get in trouble for it
    • Save for the one time he called Haggar by her first name
      • She nearly castrated him
      • Plus detention for one moth
        • Mama Mclain-Sanchez was not happy
  • Pidge will do anything to get to the outlet
    • Anything
    • They need their phone charged, goddamn it
  • Shay abuses the fuck outta 'Hawaiian shirt day’
    • It’s hilarious and terrifying at the same time
  • Keith’s the random dude that has Cup of Noodles every day seventh hour
    • Teacher: “Can you-”
    • Keith: slurp
    • Teacher: “-put that away-”
    • Keith: sluuurrrpppp
    • Teacher: “-please?”
    • Keith: makes eye contact “No.”
  • Allura with randomly quote the beginning of the pacer just to piss off her gym teacher
  • Shiro brings a spoon and a jar of peanut butter for lunch
    • Somehow he’s still alive
  • Also, Pidge binges on the terribly made mozzarella sticks
    • “It’s like someone fried string cheese.” *takes another bite* “Tastes terrible.”
  • Lance is the guy that never has a pencil. Ever. Not even during testing
    • He’s also the kid that borrows a mechanical pencil and keeps it
  • Shiro walked into the first day of finals with a supersized coffee and a 'fuck off’ attitude and absolutely no one gave him shit for it
    • He also flicked off every teacher and freshmen in the school
    • Individually
    • Pidge got most of it on Snapchat
    • It was glorious
  • Hunks the kid that wears a full body morph suit to school on Halloween
    • Nearly scares Haggar shitless when he sprints down the hall
    • Hey, a guys gotta do what a guys gotta do, especially when the cafeterias last corn dog is on the line
  • Pidge has stabbed nearly everyone in their grade with a pencil
  • Keith’s the jackass that stops in the middle of the hallway
  • Allura’s that one kid that just nonchalantly shoves people out of her way
    • She also pushes couples apart mid-make out to get to her locker
  • Hunk: “What'cha doing?”
  • Pidge: “Procrastinating”
  • Shiro’s almost burned down the school at least five times
  • Shay somehow managed to get the band and orchestra kids to like each other????
  • The freshmen started a club dedicated to worshipping Allura
    • Coran’s the supervisor
  • Pidge got stuck in the basketball hoop twice their junior year
  • Shay gets voted HC queen every year
  • Keith and Lance met during freshmen orientation and it’s been annoyance and mutual pining ever since
    • Even the deans are sick of their shit
      • Sendak: “For fucks sake, Kogane, just kiss him already!!”
      • Haggar: *making smoochy faces in the background* 

Why are Altean pools upside down? What is the benefit of this? How does one dive in an Altean pool without dying? Does all water float at the top of caves in Altea? Are these pools relevant to a commonly faced problem that requires practice in an upside down pool? Or is it just for the novelty of ones blood rushing to their head, confusion as to which way is the surface and the added excitement of a possibly very messy end. Do Altean pool cleaning duties include removing the bodies and scrubbing the floor (roof?) of the entrails, brain fluid and blood of the most recent person who swam too far down (up?) I am so confused.

A Sleepless Night

A story in which Roman can’t fall asleep and Anxiety might be able to help.


Roman sat on a stool in the kitchen, quietly sipping on his hot chocolate. It was nearly three in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. He had spent hours upon hours of tossing and turning, and finally gave up; it was going to be a sleepless night and he would deal with the consequences in the morning.He picked at the croissant that sat on a plate in front of him, his appetite little to nothing. He sighed and pushed the plate away. It was going to be a long night.

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Homegrown, grass-fed, organic Coach Bittle headcanons

(This got really long and fluffy. Sorry.)

Coach looks like a scary dude, but he’s actually a big softie. He has a really intimidating resting bitch face, and a more intimidating murder face, but he would rather eat shit than say shit.

Coach is hella passive aggressive. If you mess with him he’ll be all like, “Wah, I was always taught to turn the other cheek. Hate the sin, love the sinner.” But then he’ll blind copy your boss and forward your emails if he feels like you’re being rude. Or he’ll hand out invitations to a cookout to everyone except you.

And it’s really interesting because Suzanne Bittle is the opposite. She is small and very sweet, but if you mess with her she ascends through passive aggressive and straight into aggressive-aggressive. Like, in high school Bitty had a lot of trouble with this one teacher. Not the subject material, but the teacher. Bitty would ask for help or clarification and the teacher would basically do the academic equivalent of “No, fuck off and die.” And then this teacher would “lose” Bitty’s assignments periodically, and he would grade Bitty’s tests way harder than anyone else’s.

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What We Think Love Will Feel Like:
Adjacent snow angels dancing across meadows and sunsets filled with the brightest of pinks. Confetti and stardust raining down from the sky and hot chocolate with too many marshmallows floating to the top. Boardwalk dates and saltwater taffy wrapped neatly in waxed paper.
What Love Actually Feels Like:
Holding hands with sweaty palms and butterflies tying knots in your stomach. Drunken courage leading to sober confessions and laughing so hard you snort. Stolen sweatshirts that you wear to bed, his minty scent lacing your sheets like a poorly kept secret. Sloppy kisses and blushing cheeks, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
—  love can be confusing, but it’s always worth it
Sharing is Caring

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Request: Jason Todd x reader where the reader is training with Roy on how to use arrows and Jason gets jealous

A/N: So I’ve never written for The Outlaws before, so this could be completely rubbish and out of character. Despite that, I really enjoyed writing Roy and Kori, maybe I should do that more?? Idk guys, idk.

Tagging: @jadedhillon

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Moving in with The Outlaws was, surprisingly, a lot less difficult than you had expected. You’d been dating Jason for a few years now, and when your own roommate moved out of Gotham for work he’d suggested that you stay with him, save yourself the trouble of finding someone else to share the rent. You stayed over frequently enough that it didn’t take much getting used to, but you weren’t expecting the ease with which you slipped into the camaraderie of the group. 

The apartment was small and by no means fancy, but somehow they made it feel like home. It gave you a warm, fuzzy sensation in your stomach to return from work and have three other people waiting to greet you and ask how your day had been. (It was still mildly terrifying to get up for water in the middle of the night and be confronted by Kori’s glowing eyes when you walked into the kitchen, or to find a gun in the cutlery drawer, but slowly you were becoming used to it.)

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dwyn5002  asked:

22 it's not heavy I'm stronger than I look super corp

“I’m stronger than I look,” Kara insists, lifting Lena up and Lena can’t help but huff out a laugh. “Trust me.”

Yes, as if she could somehow forget that her alien girlfriend was capable of lifting up an airplane without breaking a sweat. 

This though, is very different than seeing Kara lift something up.

Even different from being caught in Supergirl’s arms after falling off a building. (Which Lena had to admit was certainly in one of her top ten most romantic and heroic things Kara had done, if not the top five.)

Because they were floating. 

Floating.

About two feet off of Lena’s bed. 

“I trust you,” Lena replies, “It’s just, I have this horrible image of falling on the floor while we make out, and I don’t want to kink shame, Kara, but-”

Her protests are cut off with a kiss.

 A floating kiss. 

The kink shaming could wait.

Laetitia Casta for ‘Shine Délicieux’ by L’Oreal Paris (2001)

Circular portal entry, spherical room covered in metallic liquid patterns, shiny leather pants and top, gel lips, translucent floating cg sphere, phasing through a liquid mirror, blurry environment 

aria in the snow

summary: If you asked most people of Daniel J. Howell’s lot in life, they’d tell you it was pretty good. A small career writing for a fashionable magazine, the heir to one of New York’s most prestigious hotels, the convenience of youth and an ailing millionaire father… what more could an 18-year-old ask for?

So when a night at the symphony turns into the start of a whole new double life in the city’s queer underworld, the heir to New York’s most fashionable hotel will have to learn what is what when you’re dating a cabaret singer, and who is who when that singer becomes a troubled star.

So it’s nothing but fate when things start to fall apart. The catch? It’s the last half of the 1920s–

And this romance is illegal.

word count: 55k+ to be updated weekly

warnings: war violence, angst like woah, period homophobia, thoughts of suicide, alcohol, etc

read on ao3 // playlist 

prologue | i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii | ix | x | xi | xii | xiii | xiv | xv | xvi | xvii | xvii 

excerpt: Dan had heard Phil’s voice down at his piano, but next to him it was something else entirely. The man has a good tone, he wrote. He sings Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair for me. Though antiquated, the charms of the past have obviously not been lost to our young veteran.

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I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night