gdi idk


Happy birthday Japan! (ノ´ヮ´)ノ*:・゚✧

National Foundation Day (建国記念の日 Kenkoku Kinen no Hi) is a national holiday in Japan celebrated annually on February 11, celebrating the foundation of Japan and the accession of its first emperor, Emperor Jimmu on 11 February 660 BC


#kdramawomensweek: day 8 // age of youth love-fest | happy international women’s day!

So I pretty much put together some of my favorite scenes from Age of Youth. They’re all scenes that really hit me hard emotionally or just personally resonated with me. When Jin Myung, whose feelings have slowly been bubbling underneath the surface, finally overflows with emotion, full of rage and agony. She finally demands the apology she’s been silently asking for. When she fell to the floor in sobs, I cried with her. I felt that grief. When Yi Na realizes she’s been holding herself back and finally lets herself go. Dammit, that scene just hit me. When Eun Jae blows up and just begs for the housemates to be nice to her I could personally relate to her pain and just how nervous she must have felt to finally let that out and tell these almost strangers how alienated they made her feel and how much it had hurt her. That’s not easy.

As you can see, most of my favorite scenes include the girls all together. The relationship that developed between these girls, different in pretty much every way, from being strangers just living in a house together to sisters that loved and protected each other in any way they could was really the main strength of the show. Even that hilarious scene when the girls beat up Eun Jae’s boyfriend because they think he’s some stranger out to hurt her shows just how willing they are to protect each other. I mean, they burst out of the house the second they heard Eun Jae scream. The girls immediately went to comfort Ye Eun when she finally broke up with a boyfriend she loved so much. And when Eun Jae finally comes home after being out all night, the girls just hug her, saying that everything is okay because she’s here and she’s safe. I’m tearing up just thinking of the scene. That love for each other that made them one of the best friendships of 2016 and just in general.

What I love about the girls individual stories is the journey they went through during the drama and where they ended up. They don’t end the drama suddenly complete and whole, but you know they’ve set themselves on that track. They learn to start forgiving and loving themselves. The ghosts they’ve lived with are never completely gone but they’re not held back and tortured by them anymore.

Anyway, what I really want to say is that I love these girls so so so so so much. There’s really nothing I can say that can convey the amount of love I have for this drama and the Belle Epoque girls. It warms my heart when I think of them and I’m just so happy there’s going to be a season 2.

“number 5” wasn’t just a silly old nickname.

It was the name Coran used for his favourite nephew, just to annoy him, because while he was the youngest of five, he was way too small by Altean standards, much to the poor boy’s chagrin.

So, whenever he saw Pidge fumble around and moan about her shortness, he’d remember the nephew he loved so much and missed. And when she’d turn around and flash that cheeky grin? It made him smile. She made him smile.

Maybe this was him, who knows?

Number Five wasn’t just any silly old nickname.

“Don’t wiggle around,” she said, giggling again.

“What? Like this?” He shifted purposefully around her, kicking his legs out childishly.

“I will drop you!” she threatened, stumbling to the side again.

“Well, it’s really not that far a fall I suppose,” he teased.

“Shut up.”

- from serendipitous fate, chapter 6, by @skaylanphear

toying with my surface pro, figured i’d try to draw another part i love from this damn fic… but still a struggle to draw with this thing XD; whatever tho. 

read this fic it’s great you are missing out if you aren’t readin it etc etc 

サークル♥カタログ 音羽 葵 編 Sample Voice
あさぎ夕 (Suzuki Yuuto)
サークル♥カタログ 音羽 葵 編 Sample Voice

サークル♥カタログ 音羽 葵 編 Sample Voice (CV: Suzuki Yuuto)

*NSFW, headphones advised! He. calls. you. SENPAI.* ( •͈ ᴗ •͈ )

Release Date: June 29th, 2016.

*In typical Suzuki Yuuto fashion. (Which is dangerously cute, as usual.) (  ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ )

todaysgonebi  asked:

okay so I've never thought one day I'd say this but I'm really excited to read a Flint x Wood werewolf AU so I do have to thank you for that!!! if this ship doesn't win, can I have some headcanons? I just can't stop thinking about it now. your writing is always lovely and sometimes it wrecks me but I love it

  • so.
  • marcus isn’t the werewolf in this story.
  • oliver often thinks, somewhat bitterly, that marcus should be–because he has the broad shoulders and the gruff voice and the raw, ruthless viciousness of a true predator–but marcus isn’t
  • because it’s a family curse, a genetic poison disguised as a metamorphosis; claws and teeth and fur, moonlit paranoia, a long-dead ancestor who’d drank too much ale and insulted the wrong witch. every time oliver howls, hears the eerie screeching echo of it dance around a forest clearing, he wants to tear himself into pieces; wants to unearth whatever unholy mutation in his blood, in his bones, in his body is forcing the change; and he wants to destroy it. rip and rend and revolt.
  • no one knows, of course.
  • he’s shipped off to school, and despite his precautions, despite his constant, near-pathological awareness of the calendar affixed to the back of his dormitory door, despite his absolute focus on the ever-changing phases of the moon and the stirring, aching pull he has to suppress seven days out of thirty–despite all of that, someone notices. someone sees.
  • marcus flint is the very worst rendition of oliver’s fear of being caught.
  • flint is huge, and heavily muscled, and mean. he clenches his hands into fists when he talks, and his gaze is unfailingly sharp–unfailingly frustrated–when he shoves oliver into the changing room wall after losing at weekend cricket. he sneers more than he smiles, and he has scars on his knuckles, silvery smooth and silky with age. he’s rough. hard. far more cunning than he lets on.
  • and his skin, his breath, his eyes–they’re almost unbearably hot as he reaches out to touch oliver on the night of a full moon.
  • “shit,” flint whispers, deep voice crackling like the leaves beneath his boots. “you–what are you?”
  • oliver isn’t mindless when he’s changed, but the inhuman shape of his jaw and the jagged, hulking line of his fangs make it next to impossible to properly speak. so he shakes his head. growls, and then instinctively flinches at the violence of the sound. a rose-thorned, gnashing burr lodged in the meat of his vocal chords. 
  • “you’re–you’re a–what’s it,” flint goes on, seemingly unbothered by oliver’s lack of verbal response. “a lycanthrope.”
  • his fascination is telling, oliver supposes. men like flint had a tendency to find the potential for brutality appealing, no matter what it was wrapped in. 
  • “you hate this, don’t you,” flint says, trailing a single callused fingertip down the unnatural ridge separating oliver’s forehead from the top of his nose. oliver swallows around another noise–this one softer, more plaintive, so much less angry than he’d needed it to be. “nice country boy like you? yeah, you definitely hate this. bet you think you’re a monster. bet you don’t even realize.”
  • oliver doesn’t move away as flint takes another step forward. 
  • “we aren’t so different, are we, oliver,” flint murmurs, and oliver waits for it, waits for the sour-sweet prickle of rage, inevitable and inescapable, waits for the urge to attack, to fight, to roar
  • it doesn’t come.
  • the next morning, oliver wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with a very familiar face staring back at him from the opposite side of a pillow. a dried streak of mud stains the curve of flint’s cheek, and a twig is stuck in his hair.
  • “d’you remember?” flint asks, looking curious. calculating. nervous, too.
  • oliver hesitates. clears his throat. coughs, and then scratches at his neck, and then nods, just the once. “yeah,” he says, and flint’s expression flickers with something. yearning. longing. anticipation. “yeah, i remember.”
  • and the kiss, when it finally comes, hits him harder than a full moon.