i don't have enough tags for this shit

  • what he says: I am a Stone Cold Bitch, don't test me. i have zero (0) emotions.
  • what he means: did u fucking SEE inej today i mean,, she's so cute and pure. i don't deserve her. her laugh is the prettiest thing i've ever heard. i respect her so much. she deserves better than this omg what if i'm not enough for inej ghafa?? holy shit i'm not. i'm not worthy. leave me now inej.

what she says: please don’t put your work in the jihyun tag if it doesn’t include jihyun

what she means: no seriously, just don’t tag it as jihyun kim if it doesn’t have jihyun kim in it, it’s really not that hard, i literally just want good v content and that’s hard enough to find without his tag being filled with things that have virtually nothing to do with him or only mention him in passing

Random prompt thing

I really want to see something from Shiro’s POV where the team finds him and he’s okay!! And everything seems great but then Shiro realizes that great googly moogly everything’s gone to shit while he was away. Namely, his teammate has gone to shit; Lance and Keith are my faves for this, but it could work with anyone really

  • Like, Pidge hasn’t been eating or sleeping this whole damn time
  • Hunk’s anxiety is acting up a lot
  • Keith has completely isolated himself from the others and is training 25/8
  • Lance completely hates himself/blames himself for Shiro disappearing
  • ET CETERA. Something like that idk

And they’ve been pushing aside their issues because we gotta find Shiro

No one else noticed, because of course they didn’t. Everyone was so focused on saving the universe and saving Shiro (maybe even dealing with some of their own issues/guilt, idk) that they didn’t see what was happening as their teammate was slowly falling apart; it’s so gradual that it’s hard to even see it happening at all, until Shiro comes back.

Immediately he says ‘woah wait wtf is up with [whoever] are you ok??? what happened??’

and everyone else is like ‘wait what? they’re fine’

‘uhm no? why are they [lists a bunch of traits that have been slowly developing for months now without anyone noticing]’

‘…shit.’

and then you CUE THE ANGST!! ~Doves fly from the rafters~

anonymous asked:

I miss this blog when it just did the shit posting. Is it possible to deal with the #discourse and discussion in pm's? If not that's cool but honestly it's showing up all over my feed and I know it's fulfilling to you guys but I don't give a shit about anything you're talking about. It's not why I follow this blog.

hey, i get that, buddy! however, we do tag all of our discourse and all of our non-hp posts. at the end of the day, nobody’s going to blame you if you unfollow - we’ve all blogs that we really like but have had to unfollow for personal reasons.

unfortunately, since most people send us in anons, we can’t do it in PMs. we would, otherwise, do most of it there - this discussion would actually be an exception becuase i’m not confident enough with my knowledge on antisemitism and antisemitism through history to say things without jewish people being able to correct me if i stray and say something untrue, but you catch my drift.

i highly suggest installing xkit and their tag blocker, or washboard if you’re on mobile. good luck.

since it’s ace awareness week, let me just say this: shout out to the hypersexual aces. you’re not broken, you’re not disgusting, you’re not fake. sex drive doesn’t always equal sexual attraction. you’re all lovely and 100% valid in your identity.

Though honestly rather than wondering who would win between Iron Man and Batman, I’d rather think about:

  • Tony meeting the Robins and getting envious of Bruce’s litter of kids/sidekicks/family
  • Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne meeting at a high society gala and being all haughty at each other - before leaving quasi-together and going to chill somewhere else where they don’t have to pretend
  • or simply rescuing each other from acquaintances they’d rather avoid
  • sharing tips on how to repair your gear on the fly
  • the jla and the avengers exchanging worried and confused looks while they argue about whether it’s more sensible to have contingency plans for the case where you go crazy with power/lose your morals/get mind-controlled or for the case where it happens to your teammates
  • tony trying to talk about steve being always the good guy and bruce getting ‘yeah but well-intentioned doesn’t mean always right’ and tony pointing out that steve unlike clark is not all powerful and bruce starting to talk about the power of image and then tony gets about the power of status and money
  • at which point it turns into the responsibility of the powerful and how to make your company safer for all your employees and a force for the future/betterment of your city/country/the world
  • and how much personal involvement in charities is okay/necessary
  • and then they start yelling at each other about criminal rehabilitation and prevention of crimes and whether at some point you have to kill the green goblin/the joker but you shouldn’t
  • and honestly why would you go about physical/strategic fight when you could have them confront their similarities and differences over ideologies when it comes to worrying about the effect that superpowered humans/beings/individuals becoming common place has on non powered and so less protected humans, the fail safe that must exist alongside superheroes and superhumans, the responsibility that comes with being born into money and power
  • you could also have them aggressively Not Talk about each other parents because wow those are two very different situations
  • they’re also very different in the way they deal with being on a team and creating a family but wow do they also both have issues
  • so, eh i circled back to: tony and the robins
  • please talk to me about tony and kids
  • or about bruce adopting without adopting many kids and being both a caring father figure and being very bad at it
  • please tell me about tony’s being a weird uncle to tim and damian and even jason and dick
  • why would you go ‘batman vs iron man’ i so don’t care
  • please stop telling me they are each other dc/marvel equivalent they actually have different role their own verse and different relationships to people around them
  • please stop telling me that one or the other is morally superior that’s. just. no.
  • please

anonymous asked:

I feel like part of the reason het aces are so loud and obnoxious about their "ace pride uwu" is because unlike LGBT people... they don't have fear associated with their identity. Like a gay man could be proud of his identity but be afraid of homophobia and not be brave enough to be vocal in his pride, while cishet aces have no backlash to fear (besides being called a fucking plant or some shit) and therefore they swallow the pride tag whole.

yep

I ended up rewatching Frank and Karen’s first prison scene in 2.07 “Semper Fidelis”, so now here I am, completely distracted from my original purpose and about to go step by step through their body language, words, and how important this scene is for establishing their dynamic. Because it really is. (If you read this, I’m so sorry for the length.)

Keep reading

9

i was tagged to do the bias selfie tag thingy (?) by the unbelievably beautiful @haechan-haedamn (thanks bub!!)

I decided to choose my top 3 nct biases (the holy trinity; the 3 musketeers; the lees 😩)

now, you might be thinking,,, “ali, was it really necessary to make a damn moodboard out of you and your biases?”

to which the answer is yes, indeed it was. I can’t make decisions for shit and I had a hard enough time deciding what selfies of mine to use - let alone narrowing it down to just 2 pics per bias…..


anYWHO!! i’m gonna tag some precious individuals whose faces i’d love to be blessed with!!! (but ya don’t have to do it if ya don’t wanna!!!!!) @jae-yoonie @assjaehyun @houseofmonbebe @lai-gvanlin @thereisnofuckingreason @b00mingsystem @mystic-astro-trash @rook-10 @dangchanhee @secretlymadeoutofcups @holy-chanyeollie @renhyucks @peachyrenjun

so, because I am friends with terrible wonderful people enablers, and because last night some asshole *coughs in @obaewankenope‘s general direction* said “you’re good at art, accept it”, and finally because kenope and @ricooola and @meabhair are treasures of human beings willing to instruct over continents and oceans, @deadcatwithaflamethrower hi have a slightly improved sketch of Nizar?

art blog bc it’s a creative thing so w/e

sewed myself a super quick tired dad™ bc felt is cheap and i was bored
he’s really simple and not that great but considering it cost me like ~$3 worth of felt and an hour, it’ll be a nice spacefiller for my bag

anonymous asked:

Hey! So I was wondering if you'll be doing little thank you doodles/sketches for future pre orders and products, or is that just for the Dan and Phil key chains? (Also, your art is amazing and really cute and I love you v much)

I might do more in the near future for big sales/projects
(so keep a look out for that!!)
But for now I need to take a huge break because I’ve been sketching wayyyyyyy too much for the past 2 weeks..
You can check out my 20 sketches, 40 seconds video here
And a shit ton of photos below!

endverse gothic

[tw post-apocalyptic grotesque bleakness involving dead bodies & stuff]

He’s headed northwest on I-70 when at last he’s finally forced to pull over.

In the end, it’s not because he’s out of gas, or because stalled cars and trucks have blocked the interstate completely making it impossible to go around. He’s had to go off-road surprisingly few times, mostly thanks to multi-vehicle collisions; drivers long since dragged from their cars and either devoured or turned, stuck horns no longer blaring, headlights dimmed. Only very rarely is the clump of accidents so bad and the shoulder so impassable (or, once, in Pennsylvania, a washed-out bridge) that he simply has to change cars: walk to the other side of the tangle and steel himself to pull whatever’s left from another driver’s seat. Then there’s a ritual: jump-start the battery with his remaining juice, hot-wire ignition the way he was taught; check the gas level, wipe the oil dipstick, examine the tires. Sometimes, to his relief and pleasure—an uncomfortable pleasure, followed by a thick sickened feeling he suspects might be shame—all he has to do is just turn the key, because whoever was about to die had startled presence of mind enough, was so schooled and conditioned by habit, that she’d simply turned off her car in the moments before death.

It’s almost always she, he notices. The same ones who leave behind well-organized purses and center consoles and gloveboxes, handbags he ransacks for their stores of tissues and lotion, candy and gum, painkillers and stronger prescription drugs. These are the women who keep bottled water in the cup holders, fruit rollups and energy bars in the back floorboards or seat pockets. When he is forced to switch cars, he brings everything with him, carries it in the largest handbag he’s found: a pebbled chocolate-brown satchel with a dulled gold stamp reading “kate spade.” He addresses Kate, sometimes, not just in his head but already aloud; thanks her for the water, for the lip emollients that stop his own from burning.

Even this far from big cities the sky roils with dark smoke, heavy and unsettled. He’s lost enough grace not to be able to tell what it is that’s burning, which chemicals and pollutants sift down through the air and sting his eyes and membranes inside his nose and mouth. It’s sifting away, too; he loses it by the hour—it dries up, like watching water evaporate from a puddle. I wasted time, he thinks, not with bitterness but numbly, and now doth time waste me.

(Sometimes in the cars he finds children, their gender obscured by decay. He needs to remember, tries to, that they were people, that they were just as beloved. Whatever rags the children are wearing, whatever length of hair remains on their skulls, he calls them all Mary, because that name once meant something. He unstraps them gently from their seats, arranges families together by the side of the interstate and starts the fire, leaving quickly before it can draw attention. He prays sometimes but only once he’s driving away, safe behind the wheel; sometimes tries to sing “Dies Irae” or say the קדיש, mumbles requiums under his breath, larynx hoarse, throat choking shut on the notes.)

Long ago, pressed into the clammy stone, years he spent listening enrapt to that one contralto nun, her voice like rich soft rainwater gliding over the modal syllables of “Ave, generosa,” transcendent hymns she wrote in Mary’s praise. Listened decades, half a century, until her clear skin wrinkled and she grew old, until she was not. She had something he no longer has, did he ever have it. Did humanity. Was it a thing that ever existed once, that he helped smash. Does she write psalms even now in her heaven, does she still cradle and lift into the light that glorious lucent glasslike orb of her fragile but luminous faith.

for heaven’s flood poured into you
as heaven’s word was clothed in flesh in you
you are the lily, gleaming white, upon which g-d
has fixed his gaze before all else created
around you he enwrapped his warm embrace
so that his son was suckled at your breast

He drives. He has to know, it takes days, he doesn’t sleep, doesn’t stop. Goes faster at night when he sees eyes gleaming out at him from the roadside.

And yet finally, It’s a billboard that does it, just a stupid fucking billboard, peeling and weathered, stuck out crooked from a neglected cornfield, and he pulls over because he starts laughing too hard to keep driving.

HELL IS REAL, it reads, with conviction, in uppercase block letters, white against black; and of course across the front someone has inevitably spraypainted the livid diagonal scarlet warning: CROATOAN.

He can’t help it. He watches himself break open, has watched this happen to people before, knows it’s hysteria but there is it anyway, like swallowing down nausea or gasping in fear, something bodies just do that can’t really be avoided. So he gives into it, gets himself out of the car—no one for miles, if the plague ever had been there it’s moved on—barely gets the door shut and then just folds over against it, his forehead smacking painfully hard against the glass window as his mouth presses against the bare crook of his arm, convulsing, opened and biting into skin to muffle the sounds. His shirt sleeve is torn off up high where he’d used it to bandage—bandage someone—someone who immediately didn’t make it. Wasted effort. And his own efforts wasting him.

HELL IS REAL. Hell is real! They had no idea how real. Hell is here, hell is now. He’s been to hell, spent forty years plummeting down through the worst it had to offer and it was nothing, this was infinitely worse and more wrong because this wasn’t supposed to—wasn’t meant to be hell—this was a deliberately planned paradise, and both the gardeners and their caretakers, they’d all conspired, unintentionally, through a series of colossally egotistical, blinded choices, to uproot, to defile, to spoil everything that— 

He catches his breath, reaches to wipe wetness off his face and his hand comes away filthy, streaked with soot. It’s hard to swallow, it’s hard to make his chest stop whatever it’s doing. His arm is dirty where his face rubbed it. He should use one of the bottles of water to wash, probably. Find more water.

Vaguely gray and furry, an animal darts off through the corn and the stalks quiver and rattle behind it. Eventually he’ll need to eat but he can’t think about that, not yet, not when hell is real. Hell is nearby, so proximate it throbs.

Hell is that he’s maybe an hour outside of Lebanon, with Detroit’s ruins behind him. And he is terrified—not of what he will, but of what he might not find there.

Some advice to help you live a freer life in 2017

I was recently thinking back to who I was a few years ago and I took note of the realizations I had that made life a bit easier on me so I thought I’d share them in case any of you youngins want to take this advice into the new year:

1. You don’t have to know everything. This was the most freeing realization for me. For most of my life, if I didn’t understand or know much about a topic I’d stay silent, just nod and smile, or (even worse) pretend like I knew what I was talking about. Realizing that not knowing everything doesn’t make you an idiot was revolutionary to me. I now feel fine saying “Can you tell me what that means? I actually know nothing about it” and I learn much more that way.

2. You don’t have to argue. If you don’t know much or anything about a topic, or you do and you just don’t feel like fighting or arguing, you super don’t have to! You can say that you don’t know enough about it to comment or just that you don’t feel like fighting/debating right now. I used to let people push me into arguments that I didn’t want to be in and I hated it so much, but now I just say nah and for the most part people are cool with it and just move on.

3. Buy clothes that fit you. This is not a stance on people wearing revealing clothes (which is fine), and it is unattainable for some people thanks to the fashion industry saying a big fuck you to anyone over a size 12, but if possible buy clothes that are the right size. I used to buy clothes that were mediums or size 10s and force myself into them just for the sake of not buying bigger clothes. I can’t stress how fucking absurd that was. Once I realized that hey, I feel really comfortable and look damn good in 1Xs and sometimes 2xs, my life was forever changed. I am much more comfortable now and I look and feel way better.

[If anyone needs suggestions for stores with bigger sizes, Torrid is an amazing but pricey plus size store, but Target and Kohl’s have some reasonably priced, reasonably well done plus size clothing. Also, if you have some money to spare, Dia & Co is one of those subscription box services for clothing for plus size women (only $20 per month) and it’s wonderful. (Seriously, sign up for that if you can. Or ask me questions, I’ll talk all day about Dia.)]

4. Stop passive-aggressively fishing for compliments. Another disclaimer here: some people think posting pictures/selfies or making a post about your accomplishments is fishing for compliments, but I do not agree and that’s not what this is about (pro-selfie forever). This is about what I used to do, which was ask people “How does this look?” with the sole intent of hearing “You look great!”. Instead, I now save that kind of question for when I want an actual answer, like when I really want someone’s opinion and I got comfortable enough with myself to outright say to people “Check out this dress, isn’t it awesome?!” and “I crushed it sculpting these masterpiece eyebrows today.” 

None of these will solve all of life’s problems and a lot of this has been said before, but these realizations made me feel freer in life so I thought they may help someone else.