ha crew

anonymous asked:

Post a selfie?

I only take selfies when I have my sunglasses, or I’m drunk.  So, here is a picture of me looking weird in a boat.  I was “checking in” mid tack.  And my crew has no idea what is happening. 

could you imagine The Enterprise having like a yearly inspection and Kirk bugs out every time because the best running ship in the fleet certainly doesn’t become so because they follow the rules. He has to remind the crew a week in advance to actually call him Captain and use formal titles. Bones and Scotty’s shared bathroom which is one hundred percent a liquor cabinet/distillery cannot be a thing. Sulu has to collect all of his plants out of everywhere that’s not the Botany Labs and hide the illegal ones he picked up during their journey in his quarters. Scotty has to remove all of his Scotty-Approved-Modifications from Engineering. Spock can’t work four shifts in a row and break the ensigns that challenge him in the gym to sparring matches. Bones can’t medically offer alcohol to anybody. Uhura needs to not curse every ten minutes, in any language. Chekov needs to focus more on his console and less on every pair of legs walking by his station. 

3

17th April ~ 12:15

English essay planning & finishing off holiday homework this morning. I’ve started doing that thing where you plan each day on post-its? We’ll see how it goes. Also I’m running low on post-its.

Someone left a diet pepsi can on the empty table next to us and a person walked by it on the way to our table. They looked at it curiously, then anxiously touched it and then scurried to our table saying ‘YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TOUCH THE ART AND I TOUCHED THE ART!’

So we had a long discussion about dadaism and what is art and is art art and what makes an art an art and how the majority of artist’s statements are complete and utter bullshit fabricated to fill an arbitrary word count. 

It should be mentioned that this person worked in an art museum and that we are both went to art school. We are certainly qualified to expound upon the 2% reduced fat fuckery that is art movements. 

So when our visitor left our table, my girlfriend grabbed an index card and made the art official art. 

If it’s still there tomorrow after the cleaning crew has been through, then its is now official art art that goes in an art art museum. If it is gone, then someone has TOUCHED THE ART. 

And that is part of the art.

The act of the janitor tossing it in the bin… is a statement on art. 

We all think we’re god-damned hilarious. 

rewatching old minecraft lets plays (mostly for background noise as i study) and in the old potions lets plays, there was some fucking great team nice dynamite moments. fucking gavin picking fights with everyone that michael begrudgingly has to step in and finish. michael even says at one point “well yeah, gavin started it but now i gotta step in to save his ass” and all im saying is please incorporate this more in fahc au thank you 

Alright, so a couple weeks ago I made this post about how Lance could become the Black paladin. So why don’t we get into some more sad stuff for what could happen after he was accepted by Black. 

Well what if the whole crew is shocked that the black lion would choose him, but eventually they run with it. Can you really fight with the giant sentient lion machine that has the power to choose who can pilot it? 

No, no you can’t. But here’s the thing, just because Black chose him doesn’t necessarily mean the others are automatically going to change how they treat Lance.

So imagine that they’ve finally caught up with another Robeast, Galran fleet now directed by Lotor, or a planet that needs saving from an active threat, and the whole group collectively has decided to pull together as Voltron. 

Lance has been thinking up strategies and after they’ve tried a few tactics from previous battles and failed, he notices a way that could work to defeat it. And as the new leader the others would have to listen to him for commands, right? 

So Lance is glad he can actually contribute to the team now, but he thinks it’s bittersweet that he finally has a chance to relay his ideas and it’s only because Shiro isn’t here to shoot him down.

So he tries to tell them his new plan.

However, the others are too busy referring to Pidge asking her what to do. Because while Shiro was with them, as he was shooting down Lance, he always used Pidge for ideas and listened to her input. The rest of the crew have just automatically continued this trend. 

He is tuned out, shushed or just not allowed to get a word in as Pidge is coming up with and relaying her idea. One that Lance knows would be much more dangerous even if it does work. Honestly Pidge, Keith and Allura are all pretty impulsive plan-wise, so the chances that a plan between the 3 of them being risky, with only Hunk being given the role as voice of reason, would probably be pretty high.

Lance isn’t given the chance to tell them why this plan was too Hazardous, or about his better plan because the rest of the paladins have already agreed and started to move, yelling as one to get into the action.

And what can a head do if it’s limbs have taken over?

In the end Pidge’s idea works, but everyone has taken a beating, just as Lance knew would happen. They all sound off that they’re conscious but that’s not much to reassure the new black paladin that they’re okay.

Once they get to the castle he takes stock of the cuts, bruises, and (unfortunately in Hunk’s case) broken bones and the sight causes such guilt in him. He had the ideas that could have helped his team, his new responsibility, to stay safe, but he’d failed as a leader. 

At least he is allowed to do the other half of his job. After they make a wormhole jump away from the scene he ushers those who needed a med pod, medical aid and medicine in the right directions, and treats them all before sending them off to heal up. 

Eventually all that’s left is attending to himself.

When left alone he’s given time to think about what happened out in the field and he just breaks down. He realizes that it doesn’t matter that he was picked as a leader by Black, he’s still seen as the guy who doesn’t have anything to add to Voltron and he’s just filling another role, like there doesn’t need to be a leader. 

And by the time he’s taken care of himself Lance is just crushed and left just as insecure as he was before, because if no one else could see him as a leader, then why would he?

voltron crew: draws pidge and lance as shoujo characters, draws pidge and lance as romantic interests from a kdrama, draws pidge and lance as cind.y and prompt.o from f.fxv when in canon prompt.o has a crush on cind.y, retweets plance fan art

me:

Day One Hundred and Eighteen

-An infant came through, shrieking until no end unless their one simple demand was met: a bag of marshmallows in which to bury their face. I feel a great deal of understanding for this child, and I will undoubtedly make use of this coping strategy in the future.

-Multiple dogs have come through the store today,each brightening my day enough to more than make up for the stormy skies. A guest could purchase a stuffed Minion and slap me in the face with it and I still would not mind. All that matters now is the puppers.

-A mother turned her back to her four year-old daughter for a split second, who, with an immediacy that left no doubt of premeditation, ran to an empty register and began shining the hand scanner into her eyes. My crew has been in need of a classic wild card for some time now, and I believe I may have found a perfect fit.

-I passed a woman wearing a shirt that read, “I Love Jesus A Little.” I appreciate the honesty here. After all, JC has always struck me as the kind of guy who values being real over telling him what he wants to hear.

-An eerie spell has fallen over the shopping center. Despite the vibrant landscapes outside being perfectly lit in the most picturesque way, the sky is covered in a deep black, nearly purple covering of clouds. The store is constantly fluctuating from full and crowded to nary a shopper to be seen, yet at no point is anything more or less than a muffled buzz heard. Every thirty minutes I look at a clock, only to see that only five have gone by. I know not what is causing this metamorphosis from storefront to purgatory. I can only hope that it passes soon, or, if it does not, that I am compensated properly.

-A toddler systematically discarded items as she was pushed through the store, tossing them by the wayside as they went. She knew precisely what the most valuable item in that cart was, and she would not stand for competition.

-A family came through my lane. The father placed a stuffed stormtrooper on the counter and, gesturing to his son, said, “This is his buddy.” Next, he put up several bags of mini chocolate eggs, remarking, “And these are going to be my buddies.” Finally, he told me of his wife, “And this, this is her buddy,” before placing a therapeutic massager on my counter. No living soul will ever know the truth of who was the most uncomfortable in this situation, but I will contest to my dying day that it was me.

-A man hurriedly approached my register and, in a deep and commanding voice, addressed me, “How you doing, chief?” Caught off-guard by my new promotion, I quickly scanned his purchase of girls underwear and leggings. He finished paying and told me, “Don’t bother bagging it, we’ve had an incident,” and, items stowed under his arm, hurried back off towards the sales floor. I sent with him my best wishes and a sticker for our fallen soldier.