had it for far too long in my drafts

Victor Nikiforov Appreciation Post!!!

I just want to take a moment and talk about how much I love Victor Nikiforov and how he’s just such a refreshing character. I know everyone and their dog has done a post like this already but I’ve been crying over this lovable goof for months and this had been sitting in my drafts for too long now anyway and also I’m avoiding my textbooks AND THIS SORTA TURNED INTO A CHARACTER ANALYSIS I’M SORRY.

So as far back as the PV, there were assumptions flying around that Victor would end up being an antagonist of some sort. That either he was using Yuuri for his own gain, or was just straight up evil. Laughable now, of course, but the reason those rumors were prevalent was because we see it so often. How easy was it to think that Victor was “helping” Yuuri only to further his own goals in the end? We’ve seen this common mentor-betrays-student trope before and it’s no wonder that early on fans were afraid of this even as the show progressed. And honestly? This would have made for some great drama—for Victor to turn out to not be such a nice guy and for him to eventually become someone Yuuri had to defeat in competition. However the show did not go down that route at all. It turns out that yeah, Victor is actually just a really nice guy who cares a great deal about Yuuri and the people around him. He doesn’t show up in Hasetsu with any evil ulterior motives—he just wants to get to know Yuuri and help him take his skating to the next level, and maybe find inspiration (and love) along the way.

Also how could a man with a heart-shaped smile be evil???

(Continued under the cut.)

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Request from @lolok666can u do prompt where y/n is in class next to draco and she is trying to answer a question but dracos hand is on y/n leg or something p.s love your blog

Of course! Sorry this has been a long time in the works, I’ve had soo many requests and this has been in my drafts for a while too :/ Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy it lovely!

Originally posted by sensualkisses

It was fourth period Transfiguration. It wasn’t your worst subject yet it wasn’t your best, either. The only good thing about this lesson so far was that you got to sit with Draco, your boyfriend of two years. You greeted him with a smile and a quick hug before pulling your books out hastily to start the lesson. Instead of being his usual chatty self, he was kind of being a bit of a tired prat. If he wasn’t doodling on his parchment, he was mumbling things that you, as his girlfriend, felt inclined to listen to. Even if it was getting really annoying really fast.

Around half way through the lesson, Draco eventually sat still for a few moments and actually began listening to what Professor McGonagall was saying. Pleased, you felt you were finally beginning to learn something; this seemed impossible these days - the content you were attempting to learn was so bloody difficult even Hermione Granger had to ask Professor McGonagall to repeat herself sometimes.

“Who here has actually read their textbook and can tell me about the Bird-Conjuring Charm?” Professor McGonagall asks. Surprised and overwhelmed from actually knowing what this was, your hand shot into the air. “Miss Y/L/N.” She says in a rather surprised tone. You smile. “Well,” You begin, cut short from the sudden skin-to-skin contact between you and Draco. Fuck - he’d decided to rest his hand on your upper inner thigh, gently caressing the skin under your skirt. You gasp, immediately throwing your hand down over Draco’s. Professor McGonagall cocks her eyebrow, throwing her glance between you and Draco. “Is everything okay, Y/L/N?” You nod your head, eagerly attempting to continue.

“The - uh - Bird-Conjuring Charm - it, uh, it is a spell that, erm, that casts a flock of birds from the end of the wand. It, er, also makes a loud noise, and, um,  there’s also smoke.” You could feel your cheeks burning bright red - you could hardly believe Draco still had his hand gently squeezing the delicate skin just below—

“Well done, Miss Y/L/N.” Professor McGonagall replies with a slight smile on her face (probably out of pity from your awful explanation and the fact that you seemed to be the only one to put your hand up). She begins to explain in detail what it actually is, but you zone out. “Draco what the fuck?” You whisper, feeling your cheeks burn red. He smirks and shrugs his shoulders. “I thought you needed some motivation.” You shake your head. “What I fucking need is to pass Transfiguration.” You justify, looking back to the front of the class, where Professor McGonagall appeared to be drawing a rather awry interpretation of the charm. You didn’t care though: you’d sworn that you’d get revenge on Draco.

Perfect (George Weasley x Reader)

“Request:  ‘2 & 11 for george weasley from the prompt list? thank you! 💝’ ~ @bookthrills

A/N: Here, we see an example of my horribly inconsistent writing style. I spent far too long looking up idioms to see whether they were recognised worldwide or if they were just British or Scottish. Also, I’m an idiot and hit Save as Draft rather than post, so this is up later than I had originally expected.

Summary: Your plans to prank your boyfriend backfire when you inadvertantly ruin his plans to ask you a huge question.

Words: Approx. 1292


2. “After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?”

11. “Be my wife.”

Hiding behind the counter, you waited expectantly for your boyfriend to return. George had spent a lot of your relationship pranking and teasing you- in fact, the very reason you got together in your fifth year was the aftermath of one of his pranks- and, today, you had decided that it was time for a little revenge.

It had taken you a while to set everything up, but you were proud of the fact that you had come up with this plan all on your own. Many people seemed to think that you were the level-headed, sensible one in the relationship, and that was true to an extent. Still, the people who seemed to think that you weren’t any fun because of that were absolutely wrong- you loved a good practical joke as much as the next person and you could get… creative with your pranks too.

Still, though, the classics never hurt either. You had spent the best part of the morning making sure that everything was perfect- you had spent the best part of the morning making sure that everything was perfect- you had rigged a large bucket of feathers mixed with rotten eggs above your kitchen down, ready to rain down on your unexpecting boyfriend when he returned home from work.   While there was a lot worse you could do, you thought that this would be the perfect way to have a bit of harmless fun with George. The plan was set. It was simple really- a Stickfast Hex to make sure that he stayed in place and wouldn’t move during the feather downpour, and that was basically it. Nothing to it. Simple yet effective and all that, right?

"I’m home!” You heard George shout from the entrance. As a grin spread across your face, you had to place a hand to muffle a laugh in anticipation of what would happen. “[Y/N]?” George called again after a short pause, wondering why you weren’t responding to him. His footsteps got closer, and you smirked excitedly as you heard him turning the doorknob.

Peeking out a little from the counter, you silently cast a Stickfast Hex on your boyfriend, securing his feet in place. As he looked down, confused, a shower of the feathers and eggs rained down upon him, coating him whilst he stood frozen in place.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of George standing there, unable to move, with feathers and rotten eggs covering his clothes. It was this that alerted him to your presence in the room- in the downpour, he obviously hadn’t noticed you peeking out slightly from your hiding spot.

“[Y/N]…” He said slowly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to react to what was going on. Finally, you fully emerged, still chuckling from how well your joke had gone. However, the smile started to fall from your face when you saw that George’s expression wasn’t anything like you had expected- when you were planning the prank, you envisioned your boyfriend standing there, laughing along with you, or teasingly mocking and criticising your lack of imagination when it came to your pranking methods; but the George in front of you was doing none of these things. Instead, he was standing there with a face like thunder, looking thoroughly unhappy.

“Uh… what’s wrong?” You questioned cautiously, beginning to regret your actions. You had just thought that it would be a little bit of fun, but right now, it seemed like you had just triggered an argument.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, [Y/N], I appear to be covered in feathers and eggs. And rotten eggs, at that.” George snapped sarcastically, causing you to be taken aback. You frowned slightly, scoffing.

“What’s your problem? Have you forgotten how to take a joke or something? That’s unlike you. There’s no need to get so angry with me- I was just trying to have a bit of fun. Or have you forgotten what fun is too?” You quipped back, crossing your arms across your chest.

After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologise for snapping at you ONCE?” George retorted indignantly. For a moment, confusion clouded your face. ‘Everything you did’? Surely he wasn’t just talking about the feathers incident here. Yes, there had been times when you hadn’t taken his pranks in the best nature either, which had led to arguments between the two of you, but you thought that you two had resolved those conflicts.

“Look, [Y/N], I’m sorry,” George said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, “I’m just… I guess that you could say I had plans for things to do today that didn’t really include being covered in a disgusting mix of rotten eggs and feathers.” He trailed off with a chuckle, making to move towards you to apologise properly. It was at this moment you realised that you still hadn’t cast the counter-spell for the hex you had placed upon him, evident by the fact that it was impossible for him to move his feet even an inch. Mumbling something which could be interpreted as an apology, you hurriedly cast another spell and released your boyfriend.

He took the opportunity to dash forward and wrap you in a hug, spreading some of the feathers and rotten eggs to you. You let out a shriek, but his arms just wrapped around you tighter, until both of you spontaneously broke down into laughter about how ridiculous the incident seemed to be.

“You got even, at least.” You said with a grimace, looking down at the mess that now covered both of your clothes. Still, a small smile spread across your face as you looked back into George’s eyes, glad that the pair of you hadn’t descended into any sort of fight. You were about to cast a Scouring Charm on the pair of you, when something that George had said earlier snatched your attention. “What were those plans that you had today, anyway?” You questioned, genuinely curious.

“Well, that’s…” George said, appearing to be nervous. Something resembling a blush crossed his cheeks, which only piqued your curiosity more. When you raised an eyebrow to urge him on, George only sighed.

“I really wasn’t expecting to do this with the pair of us covered in rotten eggs and feathers, but here goes.” He said, taking a deep breath. You watched as he filled with something in his pocket, and your eyes widened as he drew a small box from it. Was he going to…?

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we ever interacted- since the time you charmed my hair to change colours for a week in retaliation for Fred and I pranking you.” The memory couldn’t help but make you grin, and you felt your heart pounding with every second that passed. “And, well… I was wondering if you would do me the honour of spending a lifetime with me. Be my wife.” He concluded, opening the box to reveal a beautiful, shining ring.

Almost immediately, you squealed with joy. “Yes! Of course! I love you.” You practically shouted, your heart swelling. George grinned, slipping the ring onto your finger, before securing you in yet another embrace and further dispersing the mess on your clothes between the pair of you.

“Sorry if the whole feathers thing ruined the moment.” You murmured as his arms wrapped around you. You felt the vibrations of a chuckle from your now-fiancé, who pulled back, looking you straight in the eye.

“For us, it’s perfect. As long as it’s us, it’ll always be perfect.”


BK: The idea for Zuko’s disguise and the plot for “The Blue Spirit” came to us very quickly, but initially in the writers’ room we thought of him as the Red Spirit. I researched scores of masks from various Asian cultures and filled up a sketchbook with concepts for what he could look like. He needed to seem creepy and a little supernatural. Unfortunately, with the red mask he as looking a bit like an ancient Korean version of Spider-Man. Anthony Lioi, one of our directors at the time, thought the red mask would seem to be associated with the Fire Nation, thereby giving away Zuko’s identity to the audience too easily. We changed him to the Blue Spirit and that was the shift I needed to finalize the design. I found a mask of the character Dragon King Nuo from Chinese drama. He was definitely spooky and his smile added a menacing playfulness that seemed to be the missing ingredient. The decorative paint on the mask was far too elaborate to work for TV animation, so I streamlined the shapes while trying to retain the graphic power of the visage. Zuko was already my favorite character, and the Blue Spirit added a whole new level to his appeal. The disguise evolved into something of an alter ego for Zuko, one that seemed to be free of the burden of his fall from grace. 

Designs by Bryan Konietzko. Color by Hye Jung Kim.


Freaky Friday was released in 1976/77. Do you know what this means?? That was a movie Stanford Pines saw and it inspired him to build the Electron Carpet!!

Ford Pines was not a man who was very interested in heading out into the town for some casual, regular fun. He was too busy entwined in untangling the mysteries of Gravity Falls, or working on his other scientific inventions/pursuits at the time. 

But one day in 1977, he was exploring the town for any sign of anomalous activity, when he saw something strange dart into a nearby building. He tried to chase after it, but was held up when the teenager at the door asked for his ticket. Confused, he backed up and realized he was standing in front of the only cinema in town. 

Glad he’d for once brought his wallet on a trip to town (he knew he needed some more groceries, and once he was done with the routine check, he’d wanted to grab them so he wouldn’t be forced to make a second trip to town and let the rumor mill about him catch fire again) he bought a ticket for the first movie he saw, and hurried inside. 

He searched all over for the thing he’d been chasing, but it seemed to have disappeared for the time being. But then! He caught it in his peripheral vision and he ran towards it, following it into a dark theater.

Taking a seat in the back, he followed the creature’s progress with his eyes. It stopped a few rows ahead of him and sat down in the chair on the end of the row, looking ready to flee at the slightest of provocation. Ford decided to keep to his back seat hideout and observe from there. He made many mental notes as he watched it, barely aware of what was going on with the movie in the background.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t pick up subconsciously what was going on in the movie The ideas sparked by the movie flowed around in his brain days after the incident in town. (Which turned out to be none other than Toby Determined, which he’d mistaken for an actual anomaly). 

About a week after seeing the movie, he began writing down notes on the feasibility and building design of something to switch the essence of a person into another without losing any essential parts. From that he created Experiment 78: The Electron Carpet. He initially managed to capture small animals to test if it worked between them first, then he moved on to the gnomes and animals. 

But he trusted no one in town to switch bodies with, and he could not even imagine asking a couple of them to come to his cabin to test its capabilities. So for a couple more years, it went untested by humans. Until Fiddleford came up, that is.

Ford told him about the carpet ahead of time, so Fiddleford was prepared for the effects, but it was still one of the stranger experiences Fiddleford had had (but overall benign, it did not upset him the way the portal activities did). Fiddleford told Ford it reminded him of that groovy movie that had come out a few years ago. Ford said that was ridiculous, and he’d appreciate it if Fidleford did not compare his work to such gaudy works of fiction in the future.

Little did Stanford realize how exactly on the nose Fiddleford’s comparison was.

3 times cinder wanted to say ‘i love you’ + the first time she did

The words almost stumble out of her, messy and confused. His arms are tight around her, the fabric of his dress shirt taut against his skin, the goodbye waiting as long as it can to escape his lips. 

If Linh Cinder had inherited one thing from her birth family, it was that love wasn’t something you gave away very easily.

Also on AO3 I FFN

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Just two midwestern boys out on a stroll.

(Things I forgot were a thing until I started writing this: Tornado Alley. I also had a bit of trouble with this because I like, cannot accurately tell ages via appearances and I’ve never seen Clint’s age listed for what age his parents died/he and Barney ran away from the orphanage, so my apologies. In this he ran away from the orphanage at the age of 12, which seems a bit too old, but in order to like remember people, I feel like he would have had to have been a bit older…I don’t know.  Also: my rough draft for my major thesis is almost done. Hallelujah.


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Energized [Noctluna]

Piano Collections artwork AU (?).
A drabble that had been sitting in my drafts for far too long because I had trouble conveying a certain feeling.

The whole idea behind this was “There’s something endearing in seeing someone serious and diligent lose composure because of love”. I think. Luna is cute like that.

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A not exactly farewell

Hi there everyone,

I’ve been running this blog for going on five years, and it has been a very fun experience, but as many of the long time followers have no doubt noticed, I have had a considerably less hands-on approach, and no longer run the in-depth series that I once did. And while I had the benefit of a very large backlog of items in my Queue and Drafts, it has finally run out.

The sum of it is that, well, life happens. I started this blog not too far out of college and still living in a group house, and now I’m married, paying a mortgage, and combined with what other interests and pursuits, I simply don’t have the time to keep the blog regularly updated.

I still have a large, and varied, collection of photos and art which I do intend to now and then throw into the ‘hopper’, so I won’t be closing up shop, but this is meant to be an apology, of sort, as future posts will simply not be of quite the same in-depth and meticulously cataloged style that I have done my best to maintain in the past.

For those who don’t want to miss out on my future historical ramblings, I would hope that you follow my work on the AskHistorians site where I do continue to contribute.


Kimeta yo Hand in Hand - allocated parts

This has been sitting in my draft for far too long

Note: Feel free to point out any mistake because it may not be 100% accurate.


Phrases That Need To Be Erased from a Wrestling Fan’s Vocabulary....
  • ____ can’t wrestle *you can’t wrestle chants*
  • They’re ____ 2.0
  • Why couldn’t ____ get injured instead
  • Shoved down my throat
  • He or she is buried
  • He or she is burying everyone
  • ____ deserves this more than ____
  • I’m cancelling the network
  • I quit WWE, I’m not watching anymore
  • Cena is the cancer of the WWE *he ruined wrestling*
  • Once Vince dies this product will be so much better
  •  ____ needs to retire already
  • Referring to any of the divas as: slut, whore, gold digger, (slept her way to the top, she looks like a man), bitch, etc.
  • *Implying a diva owes her success to who she’s dating or her family background*
  • *Implying a wrestler isn’t as good as another one because they didn’t come from the indies*
  • ____ is not a “real woman wrestler”
  • That made Roman look strong
  • Using him/her shovel
  • We’ve Cena Nuff
  • If ____ wins we riot
  • WWE will be better off when ____ is gone
  • You’re not a real wrestling fan
  • ____ NEEDS to put ____ over
  • He or she only has 3-5 moves
  • Everything wrong with pro wrestling
{❄} Paperwork

Kyn hadn’t been a reaper for long- just out of training, really. Not that training meant anything to him, he was stuck behind a desk. No action, no scythes, no anything- just paperwork. He let out a small sigh, rubbing one eye to reset the contacts he had in. Errors, in this one. He’d have to find whomever wrote it and tell them to do it again.

Grell Sutcliff? The name sounded familiar but he was far too tired to be able to tell. He exited his office, looking for the redheaded reaper. He would try and do this as politely as possible. 
“Excuse me,” He tapped the reaper’s shoulder, “Ms. Sutcliff?”

sethsthetic  asked:

So where are you currently standing on your little type adventure? How are you feeling about that ENFP idea? As an Ne-dom, I thought I resonated a bit more with your writings than I have with Ne-inferior writers I know,

Honestly, I haven’t had much time to think about it.

Then, this happened:

(Cut and pasted from an online exchange with someone versed in typology, who is an INTP, married to an ENFP. Link at foot of section.)

The crux of it is that I don’t think that ENFPs would be bad with logic. I don’t find ExFPs bad with logic on the whole, nor would I expect them to be. I would rather call them inferior in their objectivity. That is to say they are utterly trapped by their objectivity, and not able to leverage it for gain, but are slaves to it.

ENFPs don’t THINK. They observe, and they state their observations. They are deer in the headlights of their own objective thinking.

Like this: an ENFP teacher is given a group of students and a book to teach them from. The book is too advanced for the students. The ENFP tells the administrator this, in the most blunt and objective of terms. The administrator brushes this away and says something vague, like, “oh, just scale down your lesson. They don’t like the beginner book, they like that one.” The ENFP blinks, utterly trapped by objectivity. “So, they are using the wrong book?”

“Yes, but they don’t like the other one… so, just teach from this one but scale it back a bit.”

At this point, a Ti would start to THINK. They’d rework the situation, they’d get around it, they’d jury-rig it. The ENFP can’t get past the objective reality. They’d see the formula as flawed. They’d see the principle as unavoidable. They’d spin hard on it. They’d vent. They might quit. It would be brutally distasteful to them to have to be put in such a situation. It would cripple them. It would make them glitch out. A stronger Te might be able to leverage their objectivity somehow, but an inferior Te (FP type) would twist. They’d whine and bark and complain, and then fold and probably quit or be an absolute tense ball of stress. [x]

The bold part? I do that all the time. Oh, a problem. No worries, I’ll fix it. Oh, that didn’t work? Crap. Guess I’ll try this approach instead. You box me in with limitations, facts, rules, and force me to do something I do not want to do? I’ll find some insidious way to do what I want, in a very clever and underhanded way, that accomplishes it despite any limitations.

In fact, that approach is how my book Watching The Lord of the Rings With God happened. It started out as a website, analyzing (Ti) the symbolism in the Lord of the Rings film adaptations. It was long, rather technical, and very popular back in the day. When I decided to put it in book form, I was faced with an insurmountable task — pulling it apart, and making it work as a book that was neither academic in tone (I wanted it to be readable by any age group) nor redundant. I spent six months writing, revising, thinking about, pulling apart, and piecing back together that book. It went through 6 potential book phases, from straight up reproducing the text as it was on the website (far too long and tedious of a book) to a year long devotional (it lost too much of the symbolic resonance). I got fed up. I sent my mother a draft and said, “Is this too cold?” “Yes,” she wrote back. “It is.”

At this point, a sane person would have given up. Instead, I analyzed it further and utilized my Ne in a totally new direction that had never occurred to me before. I thought, “What if it is staged as a conversation with God, with Him as a character watching the movies with me?” I pounded out the first chapter, sent it to my mother, and she sent back, “I LOVE IT. THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER. There is charm and humor! It’s fresh! KEEP WRITING IT!!” So I did. I never complained, I just went through one system after another, as each problem arose, because I had total confidence that I could break this problem and work around it. I never quit. I “jury-rigged” it. I thought, and thought, and over-thought it, as I do everything in my life.

So how the hell did I get all of this Ne? I don’t know. I have given that a terrible amount of thought, as I analyzed myself to death and came up with reasons as to where it might have come from (a gift? rubbed off from my Ne-dad? the result of watching Anne of Green Gables every day for about five years as a kid? devouring fantasy novels? I have no freakin’ clue) … which I suppose is proof in and of itself that I am not a Fi-Te user.

Probably still an ISFJ. Can’t see myself as a Fe-dom. Though I might do a video questionnaire at some point just to make sure. ;)