i see what you're getting at

Character development from Ep 1-8
  • Yuri Ep 1: oh my god I can't believe Victor is here! I don't deserve this! I hope I don't disappoint him
  • Yuri Ep 8: I more than deserve. Tie my shoes and don't you dare look away for even a second, you're mine now Victor
4

2015.04.09 || 2015.06.26 || 2016.10.17 || 2017.01.19

Voltron: Legendary Sweater Weather Defender!

I hc that Lance easily gets cold on the castle and that he somehow ends up having a huge stash of big sweaters…no one knows from where though

I also hc that Keith secretly loves seeing fluffy Lance in too big sweaters
💙❤️

you see, when you take the “c” out of malec, you get male. as in the gender. as in the only gender that alec lightwood is sexually or romantically attracted to. when you rearrange the letters in clalec you get “le calc” which is french for “the calc” as in calculus. calculus is math. and we all know math is awful. so tl;dr: malec is right and clalec is wrong. the facts speak for themselves. stop shipping alec with girls. 

6

생일 축하해, 전보람!! ❤ [March 22]

Happy birthday to our most beloved Jeon Boram. Thank you for showering queen’s with love and ‘aeygo’, your smiles and ajumma laughs. No matter what decisions you make in the future, know we will always be behind you, supporting and watching over you. Thank you for being a part of our lives. Thank you for being a part of T-ARA ♛

4
  • me: *literally just sees One picture of myself*
  • me: *has a full-blown existential crisis*
Color Blind

The classic “when you meet your soulmate you see color” au, but with a twist. Because what if meeting them isn’t enough - what if you need to realise that they’re your soulmate for it to take effect?




Stiles is in third grade when he falls in love with Lydia Martin. And he knows it’s love, he really does, because when she briefly meets his eye across the playground one innocuous Tuesday the world around him blossoms into color.

He sees the shade of her hair for the first time, not quite orange, not quite red (strawberry blonde, he would settle on later, after encountering both colors separately) and the green of her eyes, as bright as the grass beneath her blue shoes. Stiles looks at Lydia and sees color, and it is beautiful.

Scott frowns when he tells him, like he doesn’t understand. “What do you mean you see color? Aren’t we too young for that?”

Stiles waves off his concerns and goes back to rifling through the classroom crayon supply, which suddenly holds a whole new world of possibilities. Some of them are still in black and white, and some are just sort of shades of grey, but some are vibrant colors and Stiles knows that’s more than most of the other kids can see so he’s happy.

He picks out the ones that look closest to Lydia’s colors and sketches a rough drawing of her. He’s not the best artist, but just seeing the colors on the page makes his heart race.

He catches her just before the end of the day. “Lydia!” he calls as she neatly tucks her pencils into their case. He can see that she’s got a red one and a blue one, and another color he can’t think of the name of, and he wonders if she sees them too.

She blinks up at him as he skids to a stop in front of her desk. “Yes?”

“I drew this for you.”

She takes the drawing and he waits with baited breath for her response. She glances over it before rolling her green eyes back to Stiles’ face. “What is it?”

“It’s… uh…” Now that he’s here in front of her, admitting that he’d drawn her seems like a creepy thing to do. He can see Scott wincing sympathetically across the room. Stiles finally settles on, “It’s in color. Don’t you see?”

Lydia scowls. “No, I don’t see.”

His heart drops, because this is not how the stories go. In the stories, when you meet your soulmate your whole world suddenly changes, and you start to see color. Because they’re your soulmate, they see color too. You look at each other, and you see color, and it’s beautiful. That’s what happened with Stiles’ parents, that’s what happens in all the stories of true love Stiles has ever heard.

But Stiles sees color, and Lydia doesn’t.

This doesn’t make sense.

Stiles is very lost when he asks, “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.” Lydia eyes him warily, glancing from the drawing to his face and back again. “Why, do you?”

“Uh… I… um…”

When he doesn’t give her a straight answer, she pins him under a very scrutinising stare. For a second Stiles swears that she’s seeing it too, that she knows exactly what he’s talking about, but then she silently pushes the paper back towards him.

Stiles feels like he might cry. “Keep it,” he says quietly. “I drew it for you.”

He turns to head back to Scott before she can reply, and his friend offers him a consolatory pat on the back.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Stiles shrugs. “Eh. At least I can see color now.”

Scott nods. “And at least she kept the drawing.”

Stiles spins so fast he almost falls over. He turns just in time to see Lydia tucking the paper into her bag behind her pencil case. Both are pink.

Stiles grins. It might take a little bit longer, but he knows that one day Lydia is going to look at him and see something more than grey.

生日快乐,小绵羊!

  • Pathologist: *enters the morgue*
  • Sherlock: *examining a body*
  • Pathologist: *rolls his eyes* Excuse me, sir, this area is out of bounds to-
  • Sherlock: *still looking at the body* It's okay.
  • Pathologist: *sighs* If you don't leave, I'll have to call security.
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* I said it's fine.
  • Pathologist: *frowns* Why is it fine?
  • Sherlock: *smirks* I'm sleeping with the boss.
  • Pathologist: ...
  • Pathologist: *confused* You're sleeping with Stamford?
  • Sherlock: *looks up; annoyed* The other boss.
  • Molly: *enters the morgue, carrying coffees; irritated* Here's your bloody coffee, you git. Have you finished now so I can do my job?
  • Sherlock: *steps aside; takes the coffee, grinning* Yes, boss.
  • Pathologist: ...
4

I’m really trying to get over this art slump, drew some TAU today to try and help me through. Get into the drawing mode and whatnot. 

I dunno. :V

Phoenix’s transformation into the person we see in Apollo’s time didn’t happen overnight - or at least, I don’t think so, anyway. He didn’t just fold the suit away some time after adopting Trucy and choose the least professional looking set of clothes from the back of his wardrobe, going ‘ah, yes, this works’.

That’s not how it works. How a progression of depression and stubborn will to keep going makes you not able to stop, but care less and less about anything other than the end goal works.

We can safely assume that he’s still wearing his suit, more or less, in the MASON system trial run. Perhaps it looks a bit more worn than most times - perhaps he’s simply had so much going on he hasn’t had it dry cleaned in those two weeks, or maybe he’s starting to realise that he needs to be more careful with money than ever, or maybe it’s a mix of both. But he’s still acting in investigation mode, and people still recognise him as Phoenix Wright, Attorney, and aren’t suddenly saying ‘why are you dressed like that’.

It starts off small. 

At first, he tries to keep the routine up - he wakes up, he washes, shaves, and dresses in something presentable enough.  He goes out looking for new clues, new evidence.

And when nothing comes up, he gets a bit demoralised, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

His body language starts a subtle shift; when he goes to Trucy’s new school to pick her up, people recognise that blue suit, even if it is a bit more crumpled than they’d see it back when he was in the papers. Even if he isn’t bothering with a tie any more. His eyes shift away when he notices the stares, and when he knows Trucy isn’t looking, he hunches a little, making himself smaller. Unnoticeable. Unimportant. Nothing to see here.

He still hasn’t got the hardness in his eyes yet, and that won’t come for a while yet, it comes in spurts and stutters of a new understanding of how harsh the world is, and how easily the world can turn its back on you, and how much of a slog it is to work against the system and nothing is working.

He goes to the Borscht Bowl Club in response to an advert in the paper asking for a piano man in the suit, and when they see him (even with the creases and the crumples and the dark under his eyes from stress and lack of good sleep from making sure Trucy sleeps well, and wondering what they’re going to do about bills this time) their eyes light up, because they remember this man, this man who could play poker like the devil himself, bluffing like the best of them, and they suggest a proposal of sorts, not caring that he can’t even really play piano.

He’s uneasy about it at first. After all, it’s a little too close to the line on whether it could be considered ‘gambling’ or not, this idea of playing poker for the club, as long as he wins. For a while, he wonders if it’s the right thing to do, if he should go ahead with it, or call in, saying that he’s had second thoughts. 

He doesn’t immediately tell Maya or Edgeworth, worried about what they’d say, and when they do find out, they’re worried about him. But knowing that he has his suspicions that if he stays there, he might find more leads… they can’t tell him not to.

For the first couple of weeks, he plays bad piano and good poker in his blue suit, although the tie gets forgotten after a while. There’s a notable absence on his lapel that he keeps putting his hand to no matter how much he tries to break himself of the habit.

Then one day, the suit gets stained. Maybe it’s borscht. Perhaps it’s someone’s spilled drink. It could have been a compete accident - or, someone might have no love for him, and decided to play a prank, just to see his face as the last vestiges of his previous life gets dirtied, and he has to try washing it out in the bathroom, to no avail.

The suit is in the wash still the next day, still getting cleaned up, because he can’t not have the suit, just in case he needs it, so he has to find something else.

The first things he puts his hands on are a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt.  The hoodie comes when he remembers how cold it gets down there.

He’s still wearing his shoes, though, and his face isn’t quite clean-shaven but it isn’t covered in stubble just yet. 

He’s halfway there, running down the street and not looking quite one thing nor the other. 

He finds it funny how he feels like he fits in more with the crowd he’s mingling with now that he’s not able to look like a lawyer at all any more, and that night he realises that he’s started to cry, without even realising it, because he’s lost something, and doesn’t quite know how he’d managed that when he’d thought he’d already lost it all.

He damages his shoes by stepping on broken glass one day, and narrowly missing the sharp shard slicing his foot. He sighs, and knows that it’d cost far too much to repair or replace them, and he isn’t going to ask for help on this - it’s his problem. Besides which, why bother with new shoes when he’s got a pair of old sandals that’ll do just as well that’re hanging around in his room somewhere?

With the sandals comes even more change to body language - posture that used to be more upright starts to become more slouched, and there’s a new shuffle to his walk that wasn’t there before, that starts because he’s not used to wearing sandals all the time, but never truly goes away.

He’ll shamelessly ask any of his friends or relatives for financial help when it comes to Trucy, because she’s the light of his life, she’s his kid, she deserves the best, deserves everything he can’t give her, but when it comes to his own welfare, his own clothes and ability to look after himself, he leaves everyone tearing their hair out, frustrated at how his answer is always that he’s doing just fine, there’s no need to worry, as long as Trucy’s okay, then he’s okay, and shouldn’t that be enough?

Trucy makes him his hat as a personal project, because she has her magician’s top hat, and that keeps her head warm, but her Daddy doesn’t have anything like that, and she gets worried that in the cold weather and the freezing temperatures of the club, he’s going to catch cold again - like he already has, several times; winter is the worst, because there’s no warm weather to thaw out into when you get upstairs and outside, it’s just cold all the time, and it’s left him under the weather more than once. 

It doesn’t help that the heating gets cut off more than once, either, and he still has to go to the club to play piano and poker, has no choice but to win through whatever means he can, be it using Trucy or other methods, because he has to provide for her and make sure they’re both earning something at least.

After a while - months, perhaps, years, maybe - he stops looking at the suit, stops wondering when he might next need it, stops fingering the spot on the lapel where his attorney’s badge used to be, because he knows that each time he’s done so, it’s just made the loss hurt more than ever. Especially with how long it’s been, and who knows how long it’s still going to be. 

He stops looking at his old cases, and his old photo albums, unless it’s for Trucy, or Maya, or Edgeworth, because for them, he’ll do anything, but if they aren’t around or the subject of the past isn’t being brought up, then he pretends as though this is normal, that this is the way things are, and that it’s alright.

And the more he tells himself that things are okay like this, for now at least, the more he starts to believe it.

So by the time the ghosts of the past reappear, and Shadi Smith offers him a challenge… he likely wouldn’t think of himself as having changed that much. 

After all, it’s just a natural progression of events, right?

  • atem: *walks into the afterlife*
  • atem: *sees his douchebag uncle*
  • atem:
  • atem:
  • atem: nah. *walks back the fuck out*

so someone by the name of @cccvenus tagged my reply with

so here ya go this is what we’re doing now. I present to you a few of my personal favourites straight from my comp

there are these three

which are just some quality™ gifs of joey titled “is kaiba wet yet”

these two of kaiba laughing


which are part of the “kaiba go to therapy” series of my photos/gifs

and the gif of joey knocking on kaiba’s door in BC

which i’ve named “joey pounding kaiba”

and then an image of joey in DK 


appropriately titled “joey getting fucked” (because i swear to god tell me that’s not what it looks like go ahead i dare you)

thank you for coming with me on this journey

if you ever think i don’t read your tags about me

you’re wrong

“I don’t see color” when referring to race is not good. You shouldn’t mush all races and ethnicities together in a big blurry ball. You should acknowledge their differences. Acknowledge that poc face unique problems. Acknowledge white privilege. Acknowledge that the US oppresses poc. “I don’t see color” doesn’t mean you’re not racist, it means you’re ignorant.

Dear No-Mercy Run Players:

Your actions are not comparable to that of real-life serial murderers.

Putting the blame on Chara is not on-par with real-life child abuse.

You are not a bad person for wanting to avoid guilt over playing a video game.

You are not a bad person for playing a video game.