i did fact check this

nishinoyalovesyuu  asked:

Hi! I'm the trash anon that begged you to consider the voltron au and let me just say that I love the character interpretation??? Like it's so spot on and I'm just in love! Thank you so much for drawing something for it, it like really actually made my day

!!!!!!! I’m happy you liked it, then!!!! ‘cause actually I have more

a Role Reversal™

This is Shigeru Mizuki

He was born March 8 1922 and passed away November 30 2015 at age 93.

Mizuki-san was a manga-ka and historian, most famous for his Kitaro manga, Which he started publishing in 1960.

I could give a textbook account of him and everything he’s done and his influence on Japanese culture and revival of the interest in Yokai in Japan as a whole, but I just want to point out some very small things about him;

The first is, unlike a lot of Manga-ka of the 60s, Mizuki did not learn to draw Manga from Tezuka’s school…. or any school at all. He was one of those weird ‘natural talents’ you always hear about but actual examples of are hard to find. Mizuki was one such person. He just inately knew how to draw. And as a result, despite influences from other manga at the time, his characters generally don’t resemble what we think of when we think of ‘60s manga’

Not to mention that, despite his preferred art style, he was diverse in what he could do with how he drew, easily going from his more cartoony drawings to a more realistic style, sometimes doing both at once.

Mizuki-san was drafted into the Japanese Imperial Army during WWII, and during the war contracted malaria and lost his left arm during an explosion.

He was left-handed.

However, despite disease, losing his drawing-hand, being the only surviving member of his unit and literally being ‘ordered to die’ by his superiors, Mizuki survived the war and taught himself to draw with his right hand and just kept going.

His manga that he’s famous for were all done after he lost his dominant arm.

All his manga have a personal autobiographical touch to them. Whether it’s “Showa” which is literally a historical account of what Japan was like from the 20s to the 80s, to Kitaro, which is about the stories of Yokai told to him by his elderly neighbour, all his manga have something personal about them.

He is a cultural icon in Japan for keeping traditional ghost stories and creatures alive in the modern consciousness, as well as his contributions to Japanese history regarding WWII. He traveled the world, gathering ghost stories and traditional folklore from other countries as well.

He’s been awarded a string of awards I’m not even gonna attempt to list, although personally I feel most noteworthy is the ‘Personal of Cultural Merit’ award in 2010 and the ‘Order of the Rising Sun’ Award.

But again, that is his importance historically and culturally, whereas I find his personal struggles regarding the loss of his arm and just relearning how to draw something more personal to know as an artist.

With this in mind, He is also noteworthy for never really following the idea that most manga-ka of the time had that ‘you only need 3 hours sleep a night’ or to keep working without rest. Mizuki never really followed that belief. He got a full night’s sleep every night, and fully believed in actually LIVING life, and not just spending your entire life behind a desk, drawing.

He later joked offhandedly that at age 90 he was still around whereas everyone else of the same time period making manga had long since died.

I feel this is incredibly important to remember. Tezuka believed in working non-stop and barely sleeping. And he is undoubtedly the most important contributor to what we think of as manga today. But Mizuki-san, who is just as important to Japanese culture, believed in sleeping well, living life, and being happy. And he was ALSO important, created amazing work, and is recognized as a master.

You don’t need to work yourself to death to be an artist.

Mizuki-san had a list of ‘7 rules to happiness’, which I honestly feel is worth remembering. It may be things we’ve heard before, but this coming from a man, who went through active war, lost limbs, nearly died,retaught himself how to draw because he wasn’t able to give up, made an impact on Japanese culture, believed in living life, refused to overwork himself and lived to the age of 93, it feels like you can trust his advice. because he’s someone who’s seen some serious shit, but he was happy, and he’d learned how to be happy. And from what I’ve heard remained happy and content until he died of natural causes.

Number 1

‘Don’t try to win – Success is not the measure of life. Just do what you enjoy. Be happy.’

Number 2

‘Follow your curiosity – Do what you feel drawn towards, almost like a compulsion. What you would do without money or reward.’

Number 3

‘Pursue what you enjoy – Don’t worry if other people find you foolish. Look at all the people in the world who are eccentric—they are so happy! Follow your own path.’

Number 4

‘Believe in the power of love – Doing what you love, being with people you love. Nothing is more important.’

Number 5

‘Talent and income are unrelated – Money is not the reward of talent and hard work. Self-satisfaction is the goal. Your efforts are worthy if you do what you love.’

Number 6

‘Take it easy – Of course you need to work, but don’t overdo it! Without rest, you’ll burn yourself out.’

Number 7

‘Believe in what you cannot see – The things that mean the most are things you cannot hold in your hand.’

“Is Bruce in here?” Tim figured he might be— Bruce spent a lot of time in the children’s wing of Wayne Enterprises. There were a dozen or so kids in daycare most weekdays, and Bruce liked to hang out.

Tim liked to hang out too. They had nice snacks, and he’d known most of the kids since they were toddlers. And sometimes naps were mandatory.

“Conference call,” Damian told him. (For someone who claimed to hate naps, snackfood, kids, and humanity in general, Damian also spent a lot of time in the children’s wing.) “I don’t know where.” 

He went back to what he was doing, which was arranging a set of pewter soldiers into a complex model of a battlefield, presumably for the benefit of the preschooler sitting next to him. 

“What’s this?”

“The Battle of Issus, 333 BC.”

“Right, obviously.” Tim decided he was curious, so he settled down on the mats to watch.  Damian finished his model; he pulled a marker from the art table and used it as a pointer. 

“Okay. This is the Macedonian army, outnumbered but in the better tactical position, south of the Pinarus River. Their leader is Alexander the Great. And this—” He pointed to his enemy line. “—is the Achaemenid Empire. They’re about to lose.”

Damian tapped his marker on the Macedonian right. “This is the companion calvary, Alexander’s elite force, and they—” he cut off when he noticed his pupil digging in the toy bin, clearly distracted. The kid came up with a battered Transformer, which he set behind Damian’s lines. 

“Elliot. Alexander did not have robots.”

“But,” said Tim, rummaging through the box himself, “did he have wizards?” He pulled a bearded magician out of the tub and held it up for Damian to see. 

“You know he didn’t.”

Tim passed the wizard to Elliot. “But what if he did?”

“Drake.”

“How would that go?”

Drake.”

“Abracadabra, Alexander!” Elliot yelled, gleefully smashing through Damian’s entire left flank.

“Damn it, Drake.” Damian sighed in frustration— not quite the rise Tim was hoping for, but still something. He dropped Elliot’s discarded robot back into the box.

“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Tim told him. “Elliot’s four. He’s too young for— what is this— military history?”

“He was doing fine before you showed up.” Damian started to re-erect his soldiers, but he gave it up after Elliot came in for a second pass. “Which is typical, isn’t it?”

“Good one.”

“Thank you.” Damian crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll bite. When is he supposed to learn this kind of thing?”

“High school? Maybe never.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Frequently.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a second opinion.”

“I’ll wait.”

Damian checked the room for potential allies. “Thomas?” he called over his shoulder, “You learned military strategy as a kid, right?”

Duke looked up from the book he was reading to a pair of kindergardeners. “Just you, man.”

“Told you.” Tim fished a bag of plastic ninja from the toy box and arranged them pointedly into a row. “How are you still surprised by this kind of thing?”

Damian glared at him. “Okay, first of all? I’m not a— hold on a second. Elliot!”

Elliot froze with a large, plastic dinosaur held aloft over the battlefield. He drew it sheepishly back to his chest. “Sorry.”

“Not in the calvary wing,” Damian told him. “You’ll scare the horses.”

“Here?” Elliot pointed to the front of the phalanx.

“Yes.”

“RAWR.”

“Aim for his center.” Damian turned back to Tim. “Anyway. Why are you still talking to me? I thought we had an agreement about unnecessary contact.”

Keep reading

I don’t think about Harry Potter a whole lot, typically, but today I saw a video that featured Harry wearing some cool shades and I started wondering: what if Voldemort’s killing curse had struck Harry just a little lower? What if, on the first of November, 1981, the Dursleys had discovered on the doorstep their infant nephew - not with a conspicuous jagged scar, but instead with eyes the colour of electricity? How would blind Harry Potter’s life differ from the story we already know?

The first divergences are small and predictable. On his eleventh birthday, Harry’s letter from Hogwarts is written in delicate braille and the signature of Minerva McGonagall is elegantly embossed. At the Hut-on-the-Rock, the newly-revealed wizard boy is impressed not by Hagrid’s size but by the unusual depth of his voice.

Arriving at Hogwarts, we get no description of Draco Malfoy’s appearance, but instead learn the self-important scuffing sound of his footsteps, plus the fact that Crabbe and Goyle smell of old oatmeal, too much candy, and something that reminds Harry of grumpy toads.

Instead of learning “Lumos”, our blind Harry learns spells like “Oros” - which makes books and letters whisper their contents to him in their papery voices - as well as “Divinus”, which causes his wand to hum like a tuning fork the closer it gets to the object he’s thinking of.

One very notable thing has changed, however. In this world, no-one will ever tell Harry that he has his mother’s eyes. It’s hard to tell how much this changes Harry’s story; perhaps, without Lily’s eyes to stir up such emotion, Professor Snape won’t inflict Harry with the sadistic cruelty of a jealous lover - though he still treats the Potter boy with the same distance and hostility he felt towards Harry’s father, James (this, plus the acrid fumes and addling, humid vapours of the potions classrooms, continues to make the subject one of Harry’s least favourite).

With eyes that mark him as “The Boy who Lived” he may not be able to see the reflection of his desires in the Mirror of Erised, but upon placing his hand on the mirror’s cool surface Harry’s head is filled with the murmurs of familiar and comforting voices - his uncles, grandmothers, great-aunts and second cousins - and he is taken by an overwhelming sense of belonging, of being home.

Our sighted Harry always relied on the help of his friends to overcome challenges, and this remains true through the challenges to reach the Philosopher’s Stone. Hermione will still fend off the devil’s snare and solve the potion riddle, while Ron’s command over the chess board will still get the trio through the fourth chamber. Unable to see, Harry may yet be able to capture the winged key in the third chamber; instead of chasing the key like a daring snitch-seeker, he rises cautiously on his broom into the middle of the whirling, fluttering cloud and waits patiently until his keen ears distinguish the slow and clumsy flapping of the injured old key, grabbing it cleanly out of the air as it lumbers past him.

In his second year, Harry’s blindness is if anything an advantage in the fight against the basilisk, making him immune to the serpent’s petrifying gaze as he follows the sound of Fawkes’ voice to rend it through its head. (Incidentally, the repercussions of Dobby’s meddling this year will be slightly lessened, as who could blame a blind twelve-year-old for knocking over a sugared violet pudding - although the Dursleys will try - or bumping into a wall at Central Cross station?)

Professor Trelawney’s classes in third year could only be incredibly tedious for Harry, being unable to read tea leaves or see into crystal balls. What’s more, the Divination professor makes near-constant references to “blind prophets” and “third eyes”, which Harry can’t help but feel is somewhat offensive. Hermione will be very patient with Harry when they sit down to practice their astrology readings and Harry has to ask “Where are the stars, Hermione? The stars? Is Mars in the house of Jove right now? What’s the moon doing?”

With all the talk of The Grim this year, all Harry notices is the lingering ‘shaggy dog smell’ that seems to follow him around whenever he’s outside the castle.

Will a blind boy be allowed to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Of course he will! Wizards don’t understand ‘safety’. Our Harry may not be a confident flyer, but he still has command of the Accio charm, as well as an entire stash of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products under his bed in his dormitory. Even a Hungarian Horntail can’t see you through Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, not can it smell you once you’ve detonated a few dung bombs. After being tricked into devouring an entire case of Skiving Snackboxes, any dragon is going to feel like taking the day off.

Harry doesn’t recognise Hermione at first when she attends the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum: her improved posture changes the sound of her footsteps, and her voice has taken on a new lilt and clarity after Madam Pomfrey shrunk her teeth to undo Malfoy’s hex. Masking her characteristic smells of library books and toothpaste, she carries with her the flowery scent of the cosmetic potion she put in her hair.

Harry will be incapable of seeing thestrals, even at the start of his fifth year; after hearing the clopping of hooves from his carriage and remarking that “regular, horse-drawn transport seems rather mundane for Hogwarts”, he will be drawn into a very awkward and illuminating conversation with Luna Lovegood about the nature of death.

Umbrige will be described to us not as “toad-like”, but in terms of her voice “like an indignant budgerigar stuck in an expensive vase”. Her classroom smells strongly to Harry of talcum powder and too-sweet tea, with an undertone of vinegar and hints of nightshade.

With a fragment of Tom Riddle’s soul trapped within his eyes, Harry’s visions of Voldemort are stronger than ever, and he rushes as always to confront the Death Eaters - a group of determined friends by his side - at the Ministry of Magic.

Of course this Harry will succeed in hunting down the remaining Horcruxes and tracing the paths of the Deathly Hallows. How could he not, with his magical talents, his powerful capacity for empathy and love, and the endless help of his his allies and friends?

Coming to in a spectral representation of King’s Cross Station, Harry recoils from the whimpering fragment of Voldemort’s should before being greeted by the figure of Albus Dumbledore, whom Harry recognises from his distinguished voice - like a grand old oak tree, its branches bowed under the weight of a thousand stars. Harry’s figment of Dumbledore smells like soap and gold wire, like ink, polished wood and lemon sherbets, and very faintly of kind and humble tears. Occasional wisps of the old man’s expansive beard brush past.

Harry has the same conversation with Dumbledore about life and death, about his own plans and foils, and about Voldemort. Harry is offered the same choice: to go back to the land of the living or to board a train into the beyond. Harry still chooses to return to Voldemort’s camp in the Forbidden Forest, for the sake of his friends, whom he knows and loves by sound and smell and touch.

Harry - The Boy Who Lived - the boy with eyes like lightning, duels Voldemort without ever seeing his snake-like features or the contempt and malice in his red-ringed pupils, and defeats the dark lord just as he does in the original story, because the sum of one’s strength is more than any one sense, just like a community’s strength is greater than that of any one person. Beside the skinny boy with the dark glasses held together by Spell-o-tape stand a frizzy-haired muggle girl who has read every book, two of redhead siblings from a huge and loving family, a forgetful boy raised by grandmother, a girl who still carries around a battered pair of Spectre Specs, and countless other witches and wizards who know that love, acceptance and cooperation are the most powerful magics of all.

anonymous asked:

Who was Kitty Livingston? I saw a couple Hamilton blogs 'shipping' her with Alexander Hamilton but i also saw some people saying she was his sister - which deeply disturbed me at first, until i did some fact checks and realized that Hamilton didn't have any sisters. But I couldn't find what was her actual relationship to him? Nor how anyone could get that mixed up but I guess that's just the fandom.

When Alexander Hamilton arrived to Elizabethtown, New Jersey in 1773, he met William Livingston and his family, which including his daughter Catharine “Kitty” Livingston. Hamilton wrote letters to Kitty because he could discuss politics with her. He was open to talking about other things such as marriage and romance. 

From Alexander Hamilton to Catharine Livingston, 11 April 1777

From Alexander Hamilton to Catharine Livingston, May 1777

From Alexander Hamilton to Catharine Livingston and Elizabeth Schuyler, [January–February 1780]

X- men pref. Hamilton Songs.

Originally posted by eavensmusings

I know my sister like I know my own mind
You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind
If I tell her that I love him she’d be silently resigned
He’d be mine
She would say, “I’m fine”
She’d be lying!

You forced a smile as you saw Scott kiss your sister, Jean, as she walked out of her class. It was hard being in love with your sisters boyfriend. Well, it was your fault that you were in this position that you just happened to be in. 

You met him a few months ago, he was new and a big flirt. After a few attempts of flirting with you, you introduced him to your sister Jean, knowing that it would be a chance to escape the horrible pick up lines. 

But after you got to know him more, you couldn’t deny your feelings for him. But he was already with Jean. 

You knew that you would just have to suck it up. You knew Jean better than anyone else, you knew what she struggled with, how kind and trusting she was. You knew with out a doubt that Jean would break up with Scott for you, but you couldn’t let her. It would crush your sister to give him up, to know that she’s too nice to say no. 

So you kept your emotions under control. At least my dear Jean is his. 

- Satisfied.


Originally posted by magnetosmind

An immigrant you know and love who’s unafraid to step in!
He’s constantly confusin’, confoundin’ the British henchmen
Ev’ryone give it up for America’s favorite fighting Frenchman!

You weren’t a mutant. Just a plan old human with combat skills better than the Avengers put together. No one knew of this of course, to the whole school and your boyfriend Peter, all they knew that you were a big deal and they don’t know why. 

“Mon amour,” You spoke to your boyfriend in your native language. “Stay safe.” With a simple kiss on the cheek, he sped off, ready to go on another mission with the X-Men. 

A few days later, you had been assigned to go on a mission, kill a few people who were working for HYDRA. The fight was easy, shoot a few guys, snap some necks with your thighs, the usual. It was almost amusing how easily they were to take down. 

“Y/N?” You heard a voice say, you turn around to lock eyes with your boyfriend. The moment of silence between you was odd, Peter was staring at the bodies with wide eyes. “Damn.”

- Guns and Ships


Originally posted by claracivry

Let me tell you what I wish I’d known
When I was young and dreamed of glory:
You have no control:
Who lives, who dies, who tells your story

To Kurt it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the girl he loved, the girl who had the purest heart in the world had to die. Ever since your death, Kurt had been a mess. He locked himself in his room, refusing to see or talk to anyone. The only time anyone had seen him was at your funeral. 

“You know I use to believe that if you were good, good would happen.” Kurt told Scott, after he broke the door off. “I use to pray twice every day, go to church, help when needed. And I came her and met Y/N, and I thought ‘this is my good coming back’ because she was the most amazing person I have ever met.

And now she’s dead. She was so kind. Always letting go before her, giving away when she had none. All to die so soon. I find myself laying down at night, thinking why. Why her? She did nothing wrong. Why do bad things keep on happening to the best people?”

- History has its eyes on you


Originally posted by evanpetersxsophieturner


Oh, am I talkin’ too loud?
Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth
I never had a group of friends before

You were Jean’s first girlfriend, first friend, first person to make her feel valid. You found it cute as she rambled, going on and on about she read a bullshit article in the news paper. 

“I mean did they even check their facts!” She exclaimed, her voice raising a bit. “Shit!” She yelled, realizing her voice was getting louder, before apologizing. 

“Don’t,” You told her. “It’s okay, you just got a little excited. It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure? B- Because I don’t want to be like screaming in your face, I mean i just don’t get to talk a lot so an-”

You cut her off with a kiss. “It’s fine.”

- My Shot

anonymous asked:

Eric was more homicidal, Dylan was suicidal. Check yo facts boiiii

When did I ever say other whys? I didn’t. “Check yo facts boiiiii”

On the topic though, that isn’t entirely true.
Suicidal:
•BOTH Eric and Dylan autopsies reported they cut themselves, speaking from a military stand point that is considered suicidal tendencies.
Homicidal:
•You don’t go on a fucking murder rampage if you aren’t homicidal, it was planned, they were both excited about it.

They were both suicidal and homicidal, they just wanted to appear differently. I think Dyl wanted to get caught for being suicidal and not homicidal because he most likely did not want his life ruined over being homicidal, Eric most likely felt so lonely and unnoticed that he was trying to show himself as a ‘monster’ to get help.

causuallychaotic  asked:

2 with nurseydex or pynch

Nurseydex 02: “I think I’m in love with you and that scares the hell out of me.”

Keep reading

quietlyglittering  asked:

lmao @ your about: "don't follow if you can't respect trigger warnings!!!" this from someone who, actively and deliberately, ignored all trigger warnings on a fic on AO3 and then harassed & sent death threats to the person it was written as a surprise for b/c of the triggering content. lmaooooooo the irony

I’m sorry, when did I send death threats to anyone? Also check your facts, the trigger warnings were not there to begin with.

                     if only i cared about season 6 ! claudia lmao 

and-peggy-yall  asked:

I just had this weird Realization that Leslie, Rafa, and I could be like a dynamic trio. Why? All of our birthdays are in a row. Leslie's on August 6th, mine 7th, Rafa 8th (I THINK THATS THEIR BIRTHDAYS I HAVENT FACT CHECKED)

I did your fact checking for you (because ONE OF US has to care about journalistic integrity) and you are correct.

7

>> “I’ve heard they’re insane–that they can even derez programs with their bare hands_”

So I made a lot of cubes. A lot of cubes. Et voila! Rectified!Quorra in the snowy Outlands, with… what was a program. Poor guy. At least she’s having fun. xD

anonymous asked:

Sometimes I read a textpost and I am like...did Bri write this and then I check and see that you did in fact write this like you can literally be identified by your textposts that's your legacy

I can’t believe my legacy is being immediately recognisable as the One that’s almost definitely being an emo fuck over Steve and Bucky or Sebastian Stan. Sick lads 👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽

4

I’m a big fan of these “Last Lines” graphics that are going around, so I decided to jump on the bandwagon.

I’m sure there are plenty of other much better Rainbow Rowell versions, but here’s my contribution.

Yes, some of them have more than one sentence, so they’re not technically the last linE, and also I took out some “he saids” to make it look pretty.

But yeah….

I <3 Rainbow Rowell just a wee bit.

I’m also now super paranoid that these aren’t in fact the last lines at all. I did check my books so I’m pretty sure I’m right.

I was tagged by @masked-fox-creations

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag 20 blogs you’d like to get to know better.

Nickname: Main ones I get are Morty, Bradicle/Bradical, Brad and B-Rad

Zodiac: Aries yo

Height: 5’4"

Last thing I Googled: Well I opened up Spotify but if we’re talking google searches it’d be DID Integration (I was fact checking for a friend)

Favorite music artist: The Wombats

Song stuck in my head: To Be Free, LDRU

Last movie I watched: A Man Called Ove, earlier today, actually

Why I chose my URL: I actually started it up not long after I chose the name Bradley and I found out that the gender neutral version of prince/princess is prinx, which I thought was pretty damn cool, so I put that together and bam, prinxbradley

Any other blogs?: Yep, I’ve got a couple. @fairiesfromhell, an aesthetic/stim blog, @oldmenkissing, my Rick and Morty/Gravity Falls/Crossover of the two blog. I have others but they’re co-run so yeah, those are the ones I run myself.

What did your last relationship teach you?: I’m an oblivious child and teenage cis boys are dicks. Also it was what made me realise I was aro so I guess that too.

Religious or Spiritual: I’m not a religious person so spiritual.

Favorite color: Bluuuuuuue

Average hours of sleep: 7ish

Lucky number: 3, 5, 10, 75. I like numbers that bunch well.

Favorite character: This is missing an s. I have too many. The whole Pines family, Rick, Morty, Summer, Eliot from The Magicians. Cecil and Carlos from Night Vale. Just off the top of my head.

How many blankets do I sleep with?: Almost always 1

Dream Job?: I’d like to be an author and a teacher, but also I’d like to run a queer-friendly cafe.

I’m gonna tag @aesthetically-shitposting @theuncannymary @thefullmoonchronicle @idatorca @programming-ace @lastroadtonowhere and pfft, anyone else who wants to. Y’all don’t have to though.