i like when you do things

anonymous asked:

i think it’s stupid when people ask a larrie “are you a louie or a harrie” you do know it’s possible that you can support both right? we’re not limited to one person only

yep lol i don’t get those questions, especially if the op reblogs/talks about both. of course there are larries who only blog about one or the other, but if they reblog both… they like both 

3

Cat Person / Dog Person

6

Flower girls (well, most of them).

just some sketches i did but never finished/posted bc….. i’m not actually sure?? confidence issues i guess

i’ll probably redraw and refine these later c:

whispers thank you for all the notes, comments, and follows btw. y’all give me random bursts of courage and i end up posting things and i have not regretted any yet—- (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

the thing about Bakugou is that, in the limits that his personality allows, he’s soft for Kirishima - he calls him by name, listens to him and always answers him, tries to help him out as best as he can, accepts his help when Kirishima offers it, actively works to make him feel better when he’s down, never yells at him unless it’s an answer to Kirishima’s teasing, has no problems in complimenting him and pointing out his strength, he’s soft for Kirishima

he openly considers him a friend and treats him as such, he cares and doesn’t really try to hide it, though his inexperience in showing that sort of feelings does make him come off as awkward now and again 

I guess what I mean to say is it’d be nice if the fandom could remember that, instead of writing him as angry and prickly and downright offensive and uncaring when dealing with what has been recognized by the canon as his best friend and someone he does enjoy the company of over and over again

Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu - Karasuno, Revival!

Karasuno vs Nekoma Training Camp
“Why me?!”

Please do not repost

you know what kills me????

steve is cocky sometimes. steve is in fact cocky to the point of near-suicidal recklessness (mr. Parachutes Are a Formality, “on va voir [removes helmet before a fight just to Prove A Point]”). rhodey is proud to be war machine (WARMACHINEROX, hey everyone!! gather round to listen to my war machine story BOOM). pepper is confident in her capability to tell people what to do. as of cap 3 clint is fucking MASTERFUL at pointing fingers. wanda has no issue eventually being basically like “you know what people around me are wrong.” neither does steve by the way

but yeah!! sure!! tony’s the ONLY ONE IN THIS TEAM whose ~ego is a noteworthy characteristic. tony’s the ONLY ONE who should have his ego targeted in any situation. the ONLY ONE whose Ego ever did A Thing in his life ever. the ONLY ONE, EVER, IN ALL MOVIES

lmao miss me with this honestly

Am I the only one that doesn’t care at all that Mon El said that he loved Kara before Sanvers have said it? Like the relationship between Kara and Mon El is messy and lacks development, so I’m not surprised that he said that he loved her so quickly. In all honesty he may not even truly love her, she’s just the first person he’s truly been attached to and not a hook up, which he was doing on Daxam. 

BUT Sanvers has been developed and I’m just waiting for that special moment that they actually say it. Not some type of “I’m saying this cause I don’t want to lose you bullshit,” but they say it cause it’s true. Cause they truly can’t live without one another and love each other, ride or die. When they do say it, it will be impactful and not easily forgotten like Mon El’s confession.

May we all live to see each of our favorite actresses of old play at least one (1) gay character

They’re saps

I think my favorite part about watching from afar as the JSE community explodes is knowing that Jack is probably chillin’ on the couch in his pajamas, and every once and a while he switches tabs to the Zalgo text editor that he has bookmarked on his web browser and inserts something on social media somewhere while grinning like an idiot. Then he refreshes the page and sees the chorus of “NO” and laughs until it hurts.

just-a-cute-little-kitty  asked:

I absolutely loved your Gods and Monsters stories!!! Your writing flows beautifully and it transmits feelings so well ❤ Are you considering writing anything about Zeus? They way you've retold the other myths is amazing, and now I'm curious about what you'd do with him :) Have a good day and thanks for sharing your stories with us!

Their hold loosens on the earth. Gods aren’t needed like they were before, their names are not chains like they were before. Some embrace this. Ares eagerly shakes off the power he’d never wanted, and Athena lets it pass through her hands like water, wise enough to know that attempting to hold onto it will only hurt her in end.

Some do not embrace this.

~

Demeter’s skin used to be dark.

It was the rich brown of potting soil, it was the fertile black earth that washed up from the Nile River. Her skin was deep, life-giving brown.

It’s not like that now.

It’s pale desert sand, cracks all along it like baked earth and tree roots searching for water that they can’t find. Her hair hangs thin and grey against her temple, and her dark eyes have turned milky.

She clings to her power over the earth by her fingertips, and she knows that she’s just delaying the inevitable. There’s no coming back from this, not really, the strings of her fate have long been woven. But she will not go quietly. The mortals may take the earth from her grasp, but she’s never been one to cross without consequences. She still isn’t.

Demeter goes to the sea. She hasn’t dared step foot in there since her birth, but now she has so little left to lose. The water’s barely to her knees before a wave rises up from the smooth ocean and drags her below.

Poseidon has long been absent from the sea, yet his palace stands as tall and imposing as ever. Because it was never really his palace, his kingdom, his power.

It was always hers.

“Well, well,” Amphitrite says, circling her with curious green eyes, “Time has not been kind to you, I see.”

“It has to you,” she says tightly. Amphitrite looks the same as Demeter saw her last, has aged even better the goddesses who shed their mantels of power the moment they became too heavy. Then again, Demeter expected nothing less. “I want to make a deal.”

“You have nothing I desire, Sister,” she says, smiling even though it feels like she’s mocking her.

Demeter almost laughs – oh, if they could see them now, if Hera or Hestia could see them now, see her now. How they would laugh, to see how low she has fallen. How they would shudder, to see the truth of what she is, what she has always been. “I have this.” She cuts open her chest and pulls out her heart – rich red, a heart that has not failed her, a heart that can feel love and pain and desire and fear and happiness.

“Sister,” she whispers, eyes wide, unconsciously moving away from her, “what are you–”

“I already know I don’t get to see how this ends,” she says, “I’m not someone he’s interested in saving and I’m certainly not someone she’s interested in saving. You have faired far better than me in that regard.”

Amphitrite’s hands are shaking. Demeter likes the way she’s gone impossibly pale, the fear in her eyes, the way she was so arrogant the moment before and know she isn’t. She has power over so little these days. She’ll take what she can get. “Give me your heart,” she says, “give me power over the sea, and I will grant you a heart with the capacity to feel all the emotions you are so fond of.”

The queen of the sea shakes her head, “Don’t do this, you don’t need to do this.”

“I am Gaia,” she says, hard, speaking a name she hasn’t used in a long, long time. “I am Mother Goddess to all, the first to walk this plain, and your elder sister. You will not deny me.” They call her Demeter. She was born Demeter. But she was something else, something far greater, before she risked it all to be born a lowly goddess. “I gambled, and I lost this game. But I will not go out without a fight.”

“You were second to walk this plain, technically,” Amphitrite says softly, eye lowered, showing vulnerability to Demeter that she wouldn’t show to anyone else. “Thinking this was a game was your first mistake. He never thought of it that way.”

She’s about to snap at her, then Amphitrite cuts open her chest and takes out her cold, dark heart. She slips her heart into her sister’s chest, and Demeter does the same, pushing her violently red heart into the darkness of Amphitrite’s chest.  Demeter feels what little grasp on humanity she’d managed to maintain drain away, leaving only a pit of heavy coldness along her spine. A pink flush comes to Amphitrite’s cheeks and a smile tugs on her lips, her eyes warming with the emotions she hasn’t been able to feel since Poseidon left her.

Demeter can feel the power of the current beneath her, the water eager and ready to do her bidding. “Use my heart well,” Demeter tells Amphitrite, Gaia tells her little sister, before using the water to carry her far from where her sister and heart remain.

She will die. But her heart will on, her little sister will live on, and that will have to be enough.

~

Demeter leaves the sea and climbs the steps to what remains of Mount Olympus.

Only Zeus remains, and all that remains of him is skin and bones and sunken eyes. He maintains authority over the skies even though it’s killing him. He’ll maintain authority over it until it kills him.

She needs that power.

She doesn’t care if it kills her.

“My king,” she murmurs, kneeling before his crumbling throne. Their once great pantheon lies around them, nothing left but rubble and ash.

He almost meets her eyes, copper skin now sallow and black hair now white. “She left,” he tells her, high pitched and something terrifying in the edges of his eyes, “She left me – she was never supposed to leave me.” He reaches out and grabs her shoulder, bony hand surprisingly strong, “I miss her.”

Demeter only has one thing left to trade for Zeus’s power.

“Give me what our mother Rhea gave you,” she says softly, “Give it to me, and I will stay on Olympus and you can go to her.”

“There must always be one on Olympus,” he tells her. She doesn’t think he recognizes her. “As long as I am on Olympus, we’ll be fine. He can’t do anything if I’m here, as long as one of us is here. I am here.” Tears leak from his eyes and drip down his face. He doesn’t wipe them away. “She’s not here. She was supposed to be here. I did not want to be alone. She – she was supposed to stay. As long as she stayed by my side, she would be safe. She’s not safe anymore.” His face crumples, the truest expression of grief she’s ever seen from him. “Her sons think they can protect her, but they can’t. They can’t even protect themselves. Only I could keep her safe! But she left. She’s not safe anymore.” Quieter now, “I wanted her to be safe.”

“Give it to me,” she repeats, firmer. She doesn’t have the time for his existential crisis over his missing wife, nor does she have the energy to pretend she cares. “What did mother give you, Zeus? What do I need to take?”

“You can’t take it!” he screeches, scrambling back and away from her. “You can’t have it! I need it! Mother gave it to me, said I had to keep it safe, said I had to stay on Olympus. You can’t have it!”

Demeter growls and grabs the front of his too-big robes, pulling him upright, getting ready to yell at him.

Then she sees it.

His eyes.

His eyes are young, are brown and beautiful. They are eyes that haven’t aged.

Those are not the eyes he was born with.

He fights her, but the heart of Amphitrite beats in her chest, but the strength of Mother Gaia remains in her limbs even now. She plucks his eyes from his head like grapes from a vine. She wonders how old he was when Rhea did this to him, when the woman who called herself mother tore out her son’s eyes and put these ones in instead.

“No!” he sobs, and his voice is clearer somehow, there’s more strength to him even as his face is soaked in blood. “Demeter, do not – it is not your burden to bear!”

“It is no burden,” she says eagerly, “it is a gift.”

She swallows them whole, each eye getting stuck in her throat and she has to force it down. They are part of her, and after a disorienting moment she sees the world as Zeus has seen it his whole life.

It’s no wonder at all he went mad. She’s almost impressed he lasted as long as he did.

It will drive her mad too, but she doesn’t care. She’ll be dead long before that can happen.

“What have you done?” Zeus asks in horror, “Demeter – please, they’re not meant for power, they’re meant to save us. To save us all.”

“I am not Demeter,” she says, and presses her hand to his head, using some of the power coursing through her veins to stop his bleeding, to save him from the swiftly approaching death. “You want her? Go to her. Nothing is stopping you now. And it’s no use trying to stop me.”

Less than an hour later, Zeus takes hobbling, slow steps down Mount Olympus. He doesn’t want to, wants to stay, wants to fight her, wants to take back what she stole, but he can’t. He has no power and no strength and no eyes.  

She sits on the abandoned, crumbling throne and curls her lips into a cruel grin.

She has dominion over earth, over water, and over air.

She will make these mortals beg for mercy before they kill her – Gaia, Mother to All, Earth Goddess.


 gods and monsters series, part xxii

read more of the gods and monsters series here