i still know all the lines

I haven’t really drawn anything lately. There really hasn’t been any excuse why. I have mostly played with my friends and felt like crap. Not sick, you know?. Anyways, dusted off my drawing tablet and decided to draw an OC. Haven’t named her yet, you can name her. 

My problem with drawing is, that I never seem to find a permanent art style so I constantly shift it around. Though nothing too major changes. I decided to go back with the thicker lines. I don’t use the same thickness in all the lines and it makes the drawing look a bit nicer. Hair shading is still a work in progress. 

anonymous asked:

Does jin know that bighit wants tae gone? Is he aware that that's a possible reason for why he's missing?

In the current time line, all jin knows is that BH has extensive information on Tae they never told him about. So he’s getting super suspicious but he still doesn’t know the full extent of what BH wants to do. Because for him, BH was a beacon of hope for mutants so he really doesn’t want to think otherwise.

After Tae’s flashback comic, I’ll def pick up the storyline starting from here!

backtothestart02  asked:

She never loved any of them. Bc she didn't technically. And she's very serious & honest at the end when she says she's not Caitlin but doesn't want to be evil KF either. And so she wants to figure out how to be a GOOD KF? Idk. I didn't want to lose Caitlin to KF, but I rly liked KF in 319 & I would've totally been onboard w that, but now that she's good... Well, I want her to be CAITLIN again. This set up is so confusing. Is Caitlin still in there or what??

You know, that particular line where she said she never loved any of them, I always took that as lashing out, saying the one thing that she knew would hurt them the most. They showed us her reaction afterwards for a reason, after all. If she was truly unaffected, she would have sneered off on her way. But the way the whole thing executed was such a slapdash mess.

As to who she is now, I just posted a long blathering answer that might answer some of that.

I don’t think the Caitlin we knew is ever really coming back, at least not 100% the way she was. Some part of her will always be Killer Frost, and to be honest, I kind of want that. I want it to follow her like Reverb follows Cisco, but closer, breathing cold breath down her neck. I want the team’s trust to be hard-won in S4, and to see the flicker of wariness or caution whenever her hands go all misty, even if they ask her to. I want every choice that she makes to have a shade of “I know what happens if I give in to the darkness.” I want that to stiffen her spine and narrow her eyes as she faces down evil and says, “I’ve been there, I’m not going back.”

I know I’ve been gone for a while but I just want to know why the FUCK noorh*lm is still a damn thing on this show. They were never a thing, they were toxic and trash and terrible and w****** being out of this show was one of the best things ever I can’t believe this story line is being extended, not only is it IRRELEVANT to literally everything else happening but?? It has nothing to do with Sana?? Even if you tried to argue it’s necessary to clean up Noora’s story it’s?? Not?? Her story is done?? She left w****** and the fact all of her interactions with Sana on this show have to do with that dirtbag are ridicuLOUS

Furthermore tell me… why… Julie is setting up this gross love triangle that makes no sense and if anything is extremely insulting given how it’s IRRELEVANT, has nothing to do with Sana, and sets up the narrative as two women against each other

Idk man I’m tired of how Noora’s character keeps being defined by this fucking dirtbag after establishing her as this strong, feminist girl that’s supposed to be empowering all the friends around her. I’m tired of seeing her importance to the narrative reduced to this man and relationship when it could be adding to fucking Sana’s story, Sana’s wellbeing and an exploration of what their friendship means to Sana in a world where Sana has been conditioned to see herself as “different” from everyone else.

It’s just ridiculous that all of Sana’s friendships this season (with the exception of MAYBE Isak) haven’t served any purpose besides entrenching the season with side plots… They haven’t developed Sana as a character in any way

I’m really hoping that the whole point of this season being a mess both writing wise and regarding Sana’s portrayal is like… some kind of metaphor for Sana feeling distant from Allah and that in the end the whole moral of the story becomes Sana connecting with her faith again and realizing that she doesn’t have to conform to shit and that no one should define Islam and what it means to her except for herself. (But that might be expecting too much!! Stay tuned)

Muslims don’t need reminding of what it looks like to be Muslim in a white society. Like. They fucking get it. People that aren’t Muslim and are against islamophobia also fucking get it. So I don’t understand why there’s such an emphasis on prejudices against muslims when we could have scenes like the one where Sana was explaining her faith to Isak or Yousef, like the scenes where Sana openly tries to navigate what her faith means to her. I just don’t understand why we have to keep seeing all these small and large aggressions towards Sana for being Muslim for so long without any fucking payoff. Like?? Why are we seeing this??

Anyway heres hoping there’s a point to all this in the next coming episodes

anonymous asked:

I was waiting a few days before asking in case anyone else noticed..but you know how Kaneki still has his chicken arms? In the panel where he takes off his shirt I noticed its not just his arms but on his (right?) side of his ribs its also dark and marred up looking. I looked through the chapter and it seems to be consistently there. So by his saying "they don't heal well lately" (something along those lines, I'm not looking at it right now, lol) its not just his arms? What do you think?

Arima not only chopped off his arms and legs but he made lots of scratches all over his body, I assume the scars of those wounds aren’t fully healed yet like his arms? So he has the chicken legs/arms and the scars of those wounds all over his body.. I wonder if this is foreshadowing something? i’ve seen so many theories talking about a dragon kakuja form, maybe this new form will stay with him? i’m very very curious about this

anonymous asked:

I've come to the conclusion that Freddie is Louis son (and I still believe in Larry) I'm adult enough to know shit happens and relationships can survive hardships. There's a lot of weirdness surrounding Briana's pregnancy for sure, but there is also stuff that has happened that is overkill for Louis family to do if this was all fake...unless certain members of the family are being lied to to keep the closet intact (which is possible too)...(1)

I never got the rest of this ask, but I’m assuming that you continue the same general line of thought in it.

And…. that’s fine. You think what you like. When this all first started, I was assuming much the same thing, I’m pragmatic, shit does indeed happen, people make mistakes and people are forgiven. It was absolutely something I put on the table as a possibility. 

Then, as far as I was and am concerned, the facts didn’t add up to that being the case.

But it’s been a long time filled with a lot of drama, a lot of water under the bridge, a lot of starts and stops leading nowhere. So when people come to a conclusion like yours, I get it. I disagree, but I’m not going to argue about it or try and change your mind.

As always, I say “be nice to those that disagree, and you’re fine by me” :)

don’t get me wrong, i totally loved the plot twist with the LMD and it genuinely freaked me out… but it still bothers me that we don’t know exactly how her LMD was made. first of all like how did they build it (and dress it) so fast… even without the darkhold? secondly, how was it programmed? did it have awareness? i would guess so since A.I.D.A. mentioned May being unaware was more sophisticated and took more time. and thirdly, most importantly, why the heck did it blame Fitz? I mean did he really have the foresight and time to program that? I just don’t appreciate that line probably being put in there to excessively ramp up angst and unnecessarily prompt Fitz to apologize.

This week I had a lovely conversation with an older dyke who reminded me how much a lot of people have always hated TERFs and SWERFs. 

She was talking about the time in the 1970s and 1980s when she was a young radical dyke and how many of the awesome dykes in the radical scene were trans women. So I asked her if there was ever any problem with TERFs and SWERFs. She didn’t know those words so I described them. Her reply was (paraphrasing a longer conversation):

“Oh, you mean the political lesbians? That’s what we called them at the time, no one really considered them radical. They hated everyone. They hated bisexual women who dated men. They hated us leather dykes and kinky dykes because they thought we were ‘copying the patriarchy’, they hated trans women. None of us in the radical scene liked them. A lot of them later left and admitted that they were straight but were presured to identify as lesbians in that group because being a feminist to them meant cutting all ties with men. They were like a cult. They often lived together and if you didn’t walk the political line you were dead to them. Intense stuff. ”

And like, I know her memories don’t have global relevance and there have also been places where TERFs had a much more prominent impact on the local radical women’s community, but still, to hear how despised these TERFs have always been by these truly radical dykes cheered me up a lot. 

How I turned pro with Tarot Readings (but I still have a lot to learn!) 👌

Divination is a complex art, even though sometimes it doesn’t look like it. As you all know, I do tarot readings and I noticed how this particular method of clairvoyance gets the same reaction as a piece of contemporary art: people look at me and say I could have done it myself, or something along the lines, to which it’s hard not to reply with a Fuck off, why don’t you do it then?

I must admit that when I first got into tarot reading, doubting my abilities was somehow legit, since I kept using just a single tarot spread to answer whatever question I got and the answers didn’t always stick to what I needed to know. Luckily, in the last few years I’ve improved my technique. But how did I reach my level of expertise? 

I changed my perspective on tarots. This was really the first step. At the beginning of my practice the idea I had on tarot reading was completely different. The questions I usually asked all regarded my future, so I made readings whenever I had no idea about how things would turn. Don’t get me wrong, that is still divination, there is nothing wrong in it. But at the point tarot readings to me were just a game I’d like to play when I was bored and all alone or during sleepovers with my friends. Let’s see if he is gonna kiss me this weekend, and I was all ready to throw a tarot spread. It took a lot of years to understand that in tarots there is more than that. When you ask something to tarot cards what you are actually doing is asking for a consult, as if you were in a therapist’s office or talking with a helpline. Tarots gives advice. Which means you have to talk to them heart-to-heart and listen to their words accordingly.

I made tarot readings personal. Whenever a friend asked me for a consult, I wanted to give them the most accurate response there could possibly be. And in order to do that, I couldn’t just use that one and only tarot spread I knew, but I had to choose a spread that was specific to the case. So I decided it was time to start creating them all by myself and it turned out it wasn’t as hard as it seemed to be as long as you keep in mind these simple rules:

🔮 You need to understand where the Consultant mentally is, what they are facing in that moment, where does the question actually come from. Even when people say they just want to investigate their future, their desire probably comes out of something that buggers them.
🔮 You have to turn the Consultant’s request into a series of simple questions, that can help you get the hang of the situation. If the Consultant can’t find a job, I don’t ask the tarots the when’s and the if’s. Instead, I ask why they are blocked in the situation and what they can do to overcome the problem.
🔮 You should choose a layout that helps you get into the right mindset. Avoiding banalities (a heart-shaped layout for a spread about love can be a little too cliche), you can choose a shape that reminds you of the things you are inquiring on, like a Cupid’s bow if you’re asking about new love interests.

I turned off my rationality. As I said before divination really is an art form and, as most of the art forms, it’s easier to understand it if you don’t look at it through the eye of intellect. It might seems illogical, but that is the best way to let the meaning of the cards gets to you. No prejudice, no preconceptions. Sometimes the response could be hard to accept and that’s why I avoid to do readings about controversial or sensible matters. 

Did I really become a pro in tarot readings? There aren’t any tips or tricks to be brilliant at it. It takes time and exercise, and even after decades of practice you’ll find you still have a lot to learn. Some people have a natural inclination, other requires more effort instead. But if you’re receptive enough, tarots will disclose their secrets to you without a hitch.

evidence that david wymack is the best character in this entire series, part ii

part i

The Raven King

  • Wymack didn’t care if he had nine Foxes or twenty-five. He’d stand behind them until the bitter, bloody end.
  • “Last I checked Andrew doesn’t like you,” Wymack said.
    • “He still doesn’t,” Neil said, but he didn’t bother to explain.
    • “Interesting.”
  • “Abby wrote me a speech to give you this afternoon. It sounded nice, had lots of stuff about courage and loss and coming together in everyone’s time of need. I tore it up and tossed it in the trash can beside my desk.”
  • Wymack cleared his throat and scratched a hand through his short hair. “Look. Shit happened. Shit’s going to keep happening. You don’t need me to tell you life isn’t fair. You’re here because you know it isn’t.”
  • “I want you on the court in light gear in five minutes or I’ll sign you all up for a marathon.”
  • “I don’t pay for electricity in this place so you can stand around and gossip.”
  • “Andrew Joseph Minyard, what the flying fuck have you done this time?”
  • “Answers now, Aaron,” Wymack said.
    • “I don’t know,” Aaron said.
    • “My ass you don’t.”
  • They were all on time, but Wymack and Abby were conspicuously absent.”
  • “Get your gear and get out of my locker room.”
  • He looked the other way because he knew how badly some of them needed their escapes to survive.
  • It was apparently better to be uncomfortable but safe than to trust a stranger with his fractured team.
  • “Last I checked this was a team meeting, not a gossip circle.”
  • “If any of you so much as look at the Terrapins on your way past their benches I’ll let you walk home from here.”
  • “Some people are just hardwired to be stupid.”
  • Neil had never seen Wymack smile like this. It was small but fierce, as angry as it was proud.
  • “Why did you pay for stalls, Coach?”
    • Wymack lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe I knew you’d need them one day.”
  • Nicky pulled the window down to yell insults, but Wymack threatened him into silence.
  • Wymack pulled a bottle of vodka out of the bag and put it down beside Kevin. “You have ten seconds to inhale as much of this as you can. I’m timing you. Go.”
  • Wymack turned on Neil. “Did you or did you not tell me you weren’t going to start a fight?”
  • “What can I do?” Wymack asked.
    • …”I don’t know,” Neil said.
    • “When you know, tell me.”
  • “Go forth,” Wymack told his Foxes. “Have fun. Or don’t. I don’t care. Just no more fighting, you got me?”
  • “Andrew spent that night here with me. At first I figured he was mad at Kevin for lying to him, but he was more worked up about you.”
  • “I didn’t ask for an apology, wiseass.”
  • Wymack stared at him for an endless minute, then said too quietly, “The fuck did you just say to me?”
  • “He chose to cross a line. You didn’t. You hear me? You didn’t. Don’t ever blame yourself for Seth’s death.”
  • Wymack kept Neil away from the microphone, not trusting Neil to behave himself.
  • “Five points or twenty-six miles. Do the math and decide which one makes you happier.”
  • “Let’s do this,” he said. “The sooner we kill these bastards, the sooner we can get roaring drunk at Abby’s place. I spent all damned morning stocking her fridge.”
  • “I have a cleaning crew coming in tomorrow to wash the Raven stench off our court. Let’s get the hell out of here and get wasted.”
  • “Neil,” Wymack said. “Between you and me, I don’t think you’ve ever been fine.”
  • “Nicky tried to hug Andrew and almost got himself staked with a kitchen knife.”
  • “Speaking of unpredictable assholes, when did that happen?”
    • “When did what?” Neil asked.
    • Wymack eyed him. “Forget it.”
  • “Figure out what you two need to cope with this, and let us know.”
  • “I want one lap for every time you’ve ever said the NCAA’s never had your back.”
    • “Oh, Jesus,” Nicky said. “We’ll be running all day.”
    • “Better get started, then,” Wymack said. “Move out, maggots.”
  • “Be here at six o’clock tomorrow morning,” Wymack said. “We’ve got a game to win Friday.”
  • [Nicky]: “I can’t understand you. That’s not fair.”
    • “Think about that the next time you use German at my practices,” Wymack said.
  • Wymack came out of nowhere and hauled Neil off Riko like he weighed nothing at all.
  • Wymack answered on the fourth ring. “You have a good reason to be bothering me on a holiday?”
  • “He sounds like Neil,” Wymack said, “but he doesn’t look like him. I’ll take your explanation from the top and without a side order of bullshit, thanks.”
  • He stopped fighting to get free; the hands that had been trying to wrench Wymack’s arms off him now held on for dear life.
  • “Can I let go of you and trust you to behave, or are you going to try and cut your face off again?”
  • Wymack didn’t say anything about the scars… He just checked Neil over with a clinical eye and poked at every line of stitches for weaknesses.
  • “He gave me a contract but I wouldn’t sign it. He couldn’t make me sign it. This doesn’t mean anything. I’m still a Fox.”
    • “Of course you are,” Wymack said.

and of course, mine and everyone else’s personal favorite:

  • “Help me,” he said through gritted teeth.”
    • “Let me,” Wymack shot back.

So we all looked at this image and were like “Oh wow okay that there is Gay Crisis. Observe–Will Poindexter is completely losing his shit because he has a huge secret crush on Derek Nurse, and he’s pretty damn sure his secret won’t survive actually rooming with Nursey.”

And yes, absolutely, that is what I see when I look at this picture. It’s likely also what Lardo sees, and probably Bitty, too. Maybe Chowder as well, although that’s a more difficult call–he might be too close to both Dex and Nursey to see it.

But it is definitely not what Derek Nurse sees.

Derek Nurse just sees one of his best friends having a breakdown (a semi-public breakdown, at that–and not even semi-public in front of strangers, but semi-public in front of a bunch of their friends and teammates) because the two of them are going to be rooming together next year.

I mean. Not to put too fine a point on it, but if one of my best friends had had a breakdown about rooming with me when I was in college, I’d have been devastated. Absolutely devastated. And maybe I’m sensitive, but who’s to say Nursey isn’t? We all know the chill is fake, after all. Maybe (maybe) he doesn’t head off to his dorm room to cry once he realizes exactly how Dex is reacting, but you gotta believe he’s at least having a conversation with Chowder that includes something along the lines of “I really thought we’d been doing better this year, you know? Like, I thought we were actually friends now.”

Anyway. I had a point in here somewhere. Oh, right, it’s this: I can’t look at this panel and not feel horribly bad for Nursey. I just can’t. And…I still think we might actually get canon NurseyDex out of this (and I fully believe we’re getting canon not-straight Dex at the very least), but…at this point I kinda don’t want to see it until and unless we see Dex making a metric fuckton of apologies. Please excuse my language.

Gil’s Story Is My Nightmare

You know, it normally takes weeks if not months for my feelings to settle on a subject relating to fiction. Like, my first time through, it’ll wash over me, I’ll consider it a while, and then, eventually, I’ll come to a conclusion.

But Gil’s story rubbed me wrong on first run, and I easily figured out why.

Gil’s story is my nightmare as a gay man.

I know I’m not the first to sum it up, but I am SO frustrated and pissed off by this (and Mass Effect Andromeda’s handling of M/M relationships in general), I need to work it out of my system.

Keep reading

Just Remember

Alright, so, this is probably going to be my last Fic post in THIS blog, it will still be active, it will still post Voltron stuff, I just start posting the fics from my WRITER Blog, so everything is orginized and stuff :D

Anyways, I was having a shitty morning with myself so, I wanted to scream but I couldn’t bc I was in traffic and like, so many people around so I did the best thing: I wrote. 

Langst but also happy langst. Even Lance have these moments guys, they are valid and okay. 

Ps. Hope it’s not too hard or stressful to read? 

Disclaimer: Voltron dosen’t belong to me. 


Shiro’s disappointed glare.

Lance punches the bag.

Pidge’s annoyed roll of eyes.

Another punch followed by a kick.

Keith’s exasperated scoff.

Kick, punch, shout.

Hunk’s exhausted sigh.

Punch, kick, punch, tears.

Coran’s shake of head.

Tears, punch, shout.

Allura’s skeptical frown.

Screams.

Lance screams and shouts and curses. He lets it all out. He lets his words and shouts echo around as he falls to his knees in the middle of the training room. He hiccups as sobs shake his body. He doesn’t bother to wipe away his tears, he lets them fall to the ground and stain the mat below him.

He curses loudly and lividly for every part of him that makes him feel unworthy. He weakly punches the mat as he whimpers and his shoulders lose their strength.

Shiro’s disappointed glare turns into a concern one once he catches Lance’s weak whimpers as he cradles his own hand to his chest.

Frowning in worry, Shiro steps into the training room and takes a seat besides the brunet as Lance tries to hide his injured wrist.

“Lance, buddy, there’s no need to push yourself, I told you.” He reprimands gently, giving him a look when the brunet doesn’t allow him to get a better look of his wrist, “This training is new, you don’t need to be an expert the very same day you learn it.”

Lance sighs as he lets Shiro takes his wrist into his hands and the older teen inspects it carefully. and just hums dryly as an answer.

“Buddy, you’re already our sharpshooter, it’s okay to take your own pace as you learn to improve yourself.” Shiro says quietly after a few minutes in silence as he wraps Lance’s wrist in a white bandage, “You are getting used to the new form of your bayard, these things take time.”

“I know.” Lance answers softly, a small frown on his face, “But I feel like I’m letting you all down if I don’t learn to use it fast enough. What if we are in the battle field and because I still don’t know how to use or if I shot someone innocent or worse, one of you guys, by accident and -”

“Lance.” Shiro cuts off, not unkindly, “You’re our sharpshooter. The entire team and I have full faith in you.” He offers a proud smile at the brunet, “You would never miss a shot.”

Lance takes a deep breath as he let go of his abused lower lip. He sighs, wiping the thin line of blood coming from the corner of his mouth as he raises his head.

“It’s all in your mind.” Lance tells himself, placing a hand over his eyes to block out the light. “It’s all in your mind, it’s all in your mind. It’s okay. It’s valid. Just remember.”

The brunet takes a deep breath. “Just remember.”

He stays in silence for a little longer.

Pidge’s roll her eyes annoyed as Lance cheers in victory when the screen in the break room flashes the words of ‘Victory For Azul’ in big gold letters.

“Yeah, ok, you win this round, Mister.” Pidge says, shoving him by the arm, smirking when the brunet’s laughs, “I will win the next round, for sure.”

Lance chuckles as he raises his hand and ruffles Pidge’s wild bed hair. “We have been playing this game for like two hours, Pidge, aren’t you tired of me already?”

Pidge scoffs as if the mere question offended her. “Pick up your controller, Mr. Spanish; I’m kicking your ass.” She declares as she presses a few buttons and the screen shows the announcement of Round 4.

Pidge wins until Round 10.

Lance’s mouth twitches as his brain keeps filling him with the missing scenes with his team.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

He falls back on the mat and lays down, closing his eyes as he repeats his breathing exercise.

“You’re okay.” He breathes out softly, “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Keith scoffs exasperated as he watches his boyfriend hog the entire blanket in their bed.

“Lance, no.” He whines, stomping his foot against the floor, “Stop hogging the blanket every time I go take a shower.”

“Nop.” Lance replies from the bottom of the mountain of blankets, “You’re the one who wants to train so late, bear the consequences, buddy.”

“Babe!” The black haired man shouts annoyed and Lance suppresses his snickers as Keith’s pouts.

“Nope.” He repeats gleefully before yelping in surprise when a body slams itself from above, successfully crushing him, “Keith!”

Keith laughs playfully as he lays above Lance comfortably on his stomach, meeting Lance’s bright blue eyes easily even in the darkness around them, “Hi there.”

Lance snorts before he smiles. “Hello, hello.” He answers softly, reaching towards his boyfriend and Keith quickly meets him halfway.

“You’re comfy.” Keith confesses quietly against his lips and Lance laughs.

“Oh, hush.” He says as he smiles and nuzzles his face against Keith lovingly.

Lance hums quietly under his breath as his breathing goes back to normal after a few minutes.

He taps the surface of the mat he’s lying in with the tip of his fingers, following the rhythm of the song he’s humming.

Hunk sighs exhausted as he takes in the sight of his best friend covered in food goo.

“Lance, buddy, what’cha doin’?” He asks, fighting back the grin that threatens to appear as the brunet blinks surprised.

“Uh…” He starts, voice trailing unsure, “The mice made me do it?”

Said group of mice squeak at the accusation before Hunk accepts his losing battle as he laughs.

“Let me guess?” Hunks say and Lance nods, waving his hand as permission, “You tried to make my goo cookies?”

A pause.

“No…?” Lance answers, smiling innocently as some goo falls from his hair and Hunk shakes his head.

“Dude, if you wanted some you could have just ask me.” He says, stepping into the kitchen and wiping some of the goo from his friend’s hair and then grabs a clean cloth from the counter.

Lance pouts as he accepts the cloth and wipes his face. “I didn’t want to bother you.” He confesses softly.

Hunk snort amusedly. “Buddy, baking, food and you will never be a bother for me.” He reassures, smiling big and bright at the sheepish brunet, “Now, come on! Let’s do some baking!”

“I heard baking!” Shiro’s shout echoes around them as the leader of Voltron slides into the kitchen with a bright smile, “I call dibs on Lance’s biscuits.”

“No, no, those are mine, Shiro!” Come Keith’s shout as the younger brother jumps on Shiro’s back to fight him.

Lance and Hunk start baking, ignoring the wrestling brothers on the floor.

The brunet takes his training gloves as he sighs calmly when the door of the training room opens and closes and steps makes their way towards him.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes to acknowledge the warm body lying beside him.

He takes Keith’s hand into his own in silence.

Coran shakes his head and Lance’s face fall.

“Hey, come on, now.” Coran says as soon as he notices the brunet’s sad eyes, “You are doing great, Lance! You got 9 out of 12 correct!” He praises, smiling big and proud at the brunet sitting in front of him.

Lance pouts. “Well yeah, but still, I’m still nowhere good. I can barely understand it! I will be a miracle if I’m ever able to speak it with you guys.”

Coran’s face softens at the words. “Oh, Lance, the mere fact you want to learn Altean is enough. Allura and I are so grateful that you are giving us this small time of normality that allows us to remember our roots.”

He leans forward to ruffle Lance’s head. “You’re doing great, mikró ílio.”

Lance blinks before he beams. “Little sun.” He translates softly and Coran smiles back just as brightly, pride clear in his eyes.

He doesn’t know how long they have been lying there, but at some point, Lance’s humming had stopped but Keith’s voice had filled in the silence, singing softly and quietly under his breath,

Lance allows himself to smile.

Allura’s skeptical frown turns into a confused one as Lance points at the corner of the screen.

“Okay, I understand your point, but wouldn’t it be easier to create a distraction and then just take the quintessence?” She asks and Lance taps his chin in deep thought.

“Well,” He starts, “It’s an option, but remember that the quintessence is something real valuable to the Galra, specially to Lotor now that Zarkon is out of commission. Their guards have been doubled since out last attack.”

Tapping twice into the screen, the video of their last mission appears. “See? The room is filled with druids plus some Galra Soldiers and the occasional Supervisor making rounds. A direct attack would only put them in higher alert even when some of us are sneaking in.”

“So sneaking in from the start is the best option.” Allura muses and Lance shrugs.

“It’s our best shot.” Lance declares, smiling when Allura nods her head at him and smiles.

“Well, you’re our sharpshooter, there’s no way we’re missing this.”

“Thank you, amor.” Lance says softly, turning his head to meet Keith’s face and his heart flutters when Keith’s blue eyes meet his own.

Keith stops his singing to smile gently at his boyfriend, “You okay?” He asks quietly, reaching out to brush Lance’s bangs away from his face and his eyes turn tender when the brunet nuzzles his face against his hand.

“Nah, my mind is still being a bitch.” Lance confesses, turning slightly to drop a small kiss against Keith’s palm, “But you being here kicks its ass, so I will be.”

“And I will be here.” Keith says, leaning forward to drop his own his against the brunet’s forehead.

“Thank you, amor.”

Just A Quick Update On W2H2

I haven’t been able to touch it for quite a few weeks now because I’m sorta stuck between a rock and a hard place (the rock in this case is production and the hard place is pre-production, for whatever that’s worth haha).  

Basically, the way I’ve worked in the past is that I get the script about as good as I can manage (which I’ve done), and then I go to record the voice actors, and we sorta punch up the dialogue AS we record it.  I’ll feed the lines and give emotional direction, but I tell the actors to read it however they feel comfortable/however they think the character would say it.  Then I’ll suggest a slight change (maybe I want to avoid certain wordings or whatever), and we’ll just kind of keep going back and forth like that making it more solid each time.  And I’M SUPER EXCITED to do this, because it’s loads of fun, and all of the most quotable things in the first one just came from goofing around in the soundbooth, so I’m very excited for these people to turn my mediocre writing into comedy gold.

And aside from that being a whole process in itself, I really can’t start animating much without the dialogue, you know?  And because the delivery/lines/emotion/etc may CHANGE slightly, from the process described above, there’s not much I can do in terms of animating yet because all the animation is based off of those recordings.  I can do a handful of shots that have no dialogue, but the bulk of it is dependent on it.

Anyway, to get down to it, the reason all of THAT is taking so long is because, without going into much detail,  I’m bringing someone new on board for the cast and I’m still trying to work some stuff out in that regard.  A lot of it is just back-and-forth and waiting on responses and junk.  The next step will be finding a time to record that works for all my actors, because nowadays they’re not all sitting next to me in a classroom ready to go at the drop of a hat and the offer of a beer for their time, haha.  Differently locations, different schedules, etc etc.  So that’s kind of what’s up with W2H2 right now!  You guys are always pretty supportive and tell me to take my time and all that, which I appreciate, so there’s no need to come reassure me of that, I just figured the least I can do is keep you guys in the loop about what’s going on and where I’m at with it!

Thanks for your support!  I’m really eager to get back to working on it, so hang in there guys!

Eat Jin: A Private Viewing (M) // Kim Seokjin

Originally posted by fawnave

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Summary: Tonight, it’s Seokjin’s turn to cook for you. But, while you think dessert is just as simple as some cupcakes with frosting; Seokjin plans to give you an episode or two of Eat Jin like you’ve never seen one before.

Warning: This scenario is rated M for MATURE as it contains scenes of a sexual nature. Contains food play. You’ve been warned.

A/N: This scenario was written for the lovely @coppertopging as part of my 10k giveaway prizes ^^ I’m so sorry this took longer than expected my love, but I hope that you’ll enjoy this ;) Thank you for being the amazing person that you are and I love you a lot!

Keep reading

Harry Styles - “Confessions” Part Two

Part two to the imagine that almost killed me and I feel like some of you. So, enjoy! 

Warning: Your heart may still break.. It will, there is no may about it .. 

Part OnePart Three - Part Four - Part Five


Harry was making several attempts to contact you. He called, text, even sent flowers to both the house and your work but he never did attempt to come by the house. The house was beginning to feel so empty and the largeness of it seemed to be haunting you. This was the house the two of you had bought together, the place you had every intention of raising a family in but instead Harry was off starting a family with someone else. You were staring to consider selling it or moving out and letting Harry take it. 

You kept waiting for it to appear in the news, that Harry Styles got a girl pregnant, a girl that wasn’t the girl he had been with for the last 4 years. Everyone knew of your relationship, pretty much everyone loved the two of you together and thankfully the breakup had stayed private and out of the media so far but you knew it was only a matter of time especially when everyone found out about the baby. 

It was late one night, you had been curled up on the couch watching some chick flick, attempting to take your mind off of everything. It was storming outside, the sound of the steady rain and occasional thunder was also helping calm your mind but your heart gave a jump and you sat up quickly on the couch when there was a loud knock on the front door. 

You take small cautious steps towards the front door, it was almost 11 at night. Who would be coming at a time like this? An axe murderer, that was one. But when you peaked out the window beside the door you saw a familiar figure stood in the dull light of the porch light. You yanked open the door and came face to face with Harry Styles for the first time in weeks. 

“Harry,” You whisper, taking in the sight of him. His black shirt and jeans were soaked, his hair falling in wet tendrils down his forehead. You took note that clearly the wetness of his cheeks was not just from the rain as his eyes were red and puffy. He also had facial hair, clearly not having shaved in a week or two. 

“I need you.” His voice was a raspy plea. This was the voice of a truly broken man and it instantly brought tears to your eyes. You open your mouth to say you couldn’t do it when he cut you off. “I know I have no righ’ to ask for you to help me but please, I can’ do this anymore. I can’ live a life you aren’ in. Just hear me out for a second, alrigh’?” You sigh and find yourself stepping back to allow him to enter. 

“Let me get you a towel and dry clothes.” As Harry had never returned for his things, his clothes still took up his half of the closet. You had debated getting rid of them but those colorful silken shirts, the vibrant patterned pants and all of the boots lining the bottom of the closet felt like home and you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You reach for his grey sweatshirt and a pair of black basketball shorts. After grabbing a towel from the linen closet in the bathroom you head back out to him, handing them to him. 

“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes them, giving you a weak smile but his eyes were still watery and red. You just gave a nod and looked away before he exited the room, heading for the guest bathroom down the hall. You sat down on the couch, sitting anxiously on the edge of the cushion as you waited for his return. Your mind was racing. What would he say? What would you say? 

Once he returned, he placed his wet clothes and the towel on the floor beside the couch and then took a seat beside you. You tried not to note how close he was but his presence, that familiarity of his body heat, sent your heart into a rapid race and caused your breath to hitch in your throat. The two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. 

“So, what is it?” You finally ask, your voice low but in the quietness of the large house, you having flipped off the TV while you waited for him to return, made it sound as if you were yelling. 

“I have to go to Los Angeles tomorrow to mee’ with her and our lawyers.” He explained, his voice low as he looked down as his tangled hands. “We are goin’ to figure ou’ wha’ we are goin’ to do.” 

“So what do you need me for then? I’m not part of this.” And you couldn’t be. That was why you made him leave, after all. 

“You can’ come with me? Maybe as moral support?” You can’t help but give a laugh but you stop almost immediately when he looks over at you with watery eyes. 

“Harry, I’m sorry, but I can’t. You think I can just fly to LA with you and sit across from that woman as if I’m not totally imagining you fucking her? I’m sorry but no.” You shake your head, willing yourself to stand firm on this but his bottom lip begins to give a quiver and he hangs his head again. “Harry, please,” You reach out, resting your hand on his shoulder. “I can’t.” 

“I can’ either.” He whispers, his breathing giving a raspy gasp as he tried to catch his breath and will the sobs not to come. As he hung his head, you saw the tears drip down, disappearing into the carpet below as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. 

“I know that this is hard, Harry, but what you’re asking of me…” You trail off, giving a small shake of your head as you move your hand off of his shoulder, tangling your fingers together in your lap to stop yourself from reaching out for his hand like you so desperately wanted to. 

“I know, I know I shouldn’ be and I’ve debated coming here to ask because I know how wrong it is.” He shakes his head, giving a sigh and looks up at you. The way his green eyes shined with tears, that furrow in his brow, the creases on his forehead, it killed you and hurt you so badly. “You’ve always been the one tha’ was there to help me through anythin’ and this is the hardest and scariest thing I’ve ever gone through and I don’ know if I can do it withou’ you.”

“You’re asking me to support you while another woman has your baby, Harry. I told you to leave, I broke up with you, because I couldn’t be a part of that, I can’t be.” 

“I’m not askin’ you to get back together, love, I’m jus’ asking for you to help me while her and I sort everythin’ out. I jus’ need you to hold me togethe’ for jus’ a little while until it all sinks in. And not as my girlfriend, if tha’s not what you wan’, I get that. As my friend, though, you were my friend firs’, can we not go back to that jus’ while I handle this?” You bring your bottom lip in between your teeth as you look over at him, his eyes pleading. “I need you.” He whispers, just as he had minutes before when you opened the door to him. 

“Okay,” You eventually breathed out, not letting yourself over think this. Harry was right, you had been best friends before you dated, you could support him in that way. Or at least you would try. His face finally creeps into a small smile, the first smile he’d had in weeks. He was so grateful for you and that you were willing to do this for him.

So, after talking over flight details Harry left and you curled up in your large and empty bed and cried yourself to sleep, afraid of what you had gotten yourself in to. 

The next day, the plane ride was silent and awkward. Neither of you knew what waited in Los Angeles and just being close to each other again was hard enough. You regretted deeply agreeing to do this but it was too late now. 

“If I end up not being able to handle this, I’m going to leave. I can’t torture myself like this, not even for you.” You tell him as the two of you enter his Los Angeles home. He had already had this place before the two of you moved in and you didn’t spend much time here as you preferred London but it was still like a home to you but now it felt foreign. 

“I understand.” Harry tells you, giving you a weak smile. He still couldn’t believe that you actually came with him. He figured he would have to beg more, plead with you, basically all but drag you to the airport but here you were. He loved you so much in that moment, amazed that even after he hurt you so badly, you still supported him and cared for him enough to do this. 

“Wait,” You say, halting in the hallway outside of the master bedroom. Harry’s chest hits your back, having not been able to stop in time with your abrupt stop. “Was it here? Was it here that you…?” You trail off, unable to get the words out as you picture her, rolling around in the sheets of your bed. You turn and look up at him, seeing his furrowed brows as he puts together what you were asking. You hadn’t even thought of that when you agreed to come. You should have gotten a hotel. 

“No, of course not. It was at her house.” He explains and a sense of relief washes over you. “I’ll take the guest room, you can have our… I mean my… room.” His voice drops off after realizing his mistake. 

“I don’t think I can sleep in there.” You whisper, looking up at him. It was hard enough sleeping in the once shared bed in London, but this room, this bedroom was the place where the two of you had first slept together, the place that had solidified your love for him. Another reason it probably would have killed you to know she had been in that bed. Harry drops yours and his bags that he was carrying as your eyes filled with tears and he pulled you into his arms. 

“I’m so sorry. I can’ say sorry enough.” You allow yourself to curl against him, burying your face in his chest as you began to cry freely. You had spent so much time trying to not cry over the last few weeks and now here it all was coming out and you weren’t sure you were able to stop. “Come on.” Harry pulls back to take your hand and leads you down the hall to the guest bedroom. “You should res’ for a bit.” 

“Stay with me.” You whisper, reaching out for his hand after he’s guided you onto the bed. He was about to leave the room but just as he needed your comfort, you also needed his. 

“Are you sure?” He questions, frowning down at you. He wanted nothing more than to curl up right there in bed with you and hold you close again but he knew how badly he had hurt you, hurt himself even, and didn’t want to make things worse with you.

“Please, Harry.” You all but beg, still gripping at his hand. Your eyes were filled with tears and you knew they had just begun. Harry stares at you, his own green eyes watery, and then gave a nod. He laid slowly down beside you, letting you decide how the two of you would lay together. You grab his arm, tugging it around you as you fold against his side. He has to resist the urge to kiss the top of your head and instead leans back into the pillows as his hand brushes against your arm, trailing across your soft skin. 

“Love?” Harry soon questions as he realizes you were in a full on cry in that moment. He felt the wetness on his t-shirt and had felt the shake in your shoulders. As soon as he spoke a sob fell from your lips. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He tried to pull back to get you to look at him but you took a handful of his shirt in your fists and make him stay where he was. 

“I had so many plans for us,” You finally gasp out. “I had pictured our wedding, where we would go for our honeymoon, what kind of dress I wanted, and then even what we would name our children.” You were speaking so fast. Now that the dam had been broken, it seemed you were going to let everything out. Your chest ached, your throat already raw from the sobs. “I wanted to marry you, I wanted to start a family with you.” 

“I know, I know, love,” Harry whispers, unable to get his voice any louder. He looks up at the ceiling as the tears leak from his eyes. He takes a deep breath, trying to stay strong and keep it together. He had broken so many times around you lately, it was time for him to take care of you. “I wanted to marry you, too. I’d planned how I was going to ask.” He whispered that last bit as quietly as possible but he knew you had heard when your breath hitched in your throat and you sat up, glaring down at him.

“Don’t,” You spit at him. “Don’t say shit like that. If you really wanted to marry me, if you wanted a life with me, then no matter what kind of fight we had gotten into you wouldn’t have gone to someone else.” 

“I messed up, love, but tha’ doesn’ mean I don’ love you or don’ want a life with you.” He argued but you shook your head and rolled away from him. You sat on the other side of the bed as he too sat up, facing you. “I will fight for you, for us, for the res’ of my life. I promise you. I can’ give up on us. I made a mistake, I know, but you are the only one I want a life with.” You can’t help but roll your eyes as you bring your hand up, wiping at your wet cheeks. 

“Harry, there is no us to fight for anymore. I will never be able to forgive you, I’ve already told you that. You have someone else to fight for now, you have a child to take care of, that’s what you should be focusing on.” Harry just didn’t know what to say, how to express his regret, his hatred towards himself, and how much he longed for you to forgive him. But he understood. He knew he would probably never forgive you if the situation was reversed but he knew he would at least try. 

“I don’ know what to do,” He whispers, his hands pressing into his face. He falls back on the pillows and sighs. Thankfully the tears stayed away. “I can’t raise a child. I’m goin’ to be a shit father.” You sigh and move next to him, pulling a hand from his face so he looks at you.

“You are going to be an amazing father, Harry, don’t doubt yourself. You’re amazing with kids.” And he was, that was why you wanted a family with him one day. He was the most amazing man and would be the most amazing father, you knew that and had no doubts. “No matter the circumstances behind how they came into this world, you are going to love and take care of that child and they will love you so much.” That’s when the tears came back for Harry. He sighs, closing his eyes and turns to bury his face in the pillow beside him. “Do you want to raise the baby with … her .. or .. what is the plan?” 

“I don’ know,” Came his muffled response. “Tha’s what the meetin’ tomorrow is, to talk about options.” He had turned to look at you as he continues speaking so you give a nod, biting at your lower lip. 

“Do you.. do you think you’ll try being with her? Like .. as a family?” You had pictured it, Harry, his child and this mystery woman happy, smiling, laughing together. It killed you inside as it was always you in her place when you imagined it in the past. 

“I don’ want a family with anyone but you.” Harry sits up, having clearly picking up on what you were imagining right now so he pulls you into his arms and kisses the side of your head. “Firs’ thing we’ll do is make sure I’m the father and then go from there.” He explains as you rest your head against his chest. 

“Do you want to be the father?” You whisper as you listen to his heartbeat under your ear. 

“No,” He mutters back almost immediately. “Bu’ if I am… I’m going to do the righ’ thing and try to raise him or her. I won’ let someone else do it for me. It’s my child and I need to take responsibility.” You lift your head and look up at him, a small smile on your face. 

“And no matter how scared you are, you will do it amazingly and that child will love you so much.” He gives a watery smile, one solitary tear falling down his face before he nods. “Does she want the baby?” 

“We haven’ talked about it. That’s what the meetin’ tomorrow is for.” He explains with a sigh. “I don’ want to see her..” 

“And you think I do?” You meant it as a joke but it came out with a touch of malice and you regretted it when you saw that hurt look on his face. “Did she know? About me?” 

“Yes,” He whispers. “I’d gone to a bar after our really bad figh’, drank too much and told her everythin’. I wasn’ thinking clearly and it just.. happened.” He tells you. It pained you so much to hear this but you knew you had to. “I didn’ tell you when I came home and we worked everythin’ out because I was so scared of losin’ you. I knew I would tell you one day bu’… I got home and you were so happy and I couldn’t bare to be the one to make you cry.” 

You couldn’t say anything, nothing that you hadn’t said before about the situation. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, forgive him and that you stood firm on. You came to Los Angeles with him as moral support in a friendly sense, and nothing more. 

“Does she know you and I broke up?” You wondered then, thinking that maybe if she knew, or when she found out, she would try to get with Harry. You didn’t like imagining it. 

“I haven’ spoken to her since she called and told me. I contacted my lawyer the day afte’ you and I … afte’ I left, and he contacted hers. We’ve gone through them eve’ since.” You nod, feeling a bit better at the idea that he wasn’t in contact with her. You couldn’t stand the thought of picturing them talking about baby names or what gender they hoped it was. “Are we ever going to be okay again?” He spoke these words so quietly after a few minutes of silence, neither of you having looked at each other. 

“I don’t think so, Harry.” You tell him softly, looking over at him. As he hangs his head and begins to cry again, you stand from the bed. “I can’t, I’m sorry.” You were letting the tears fall again as well. 

“Y/N…” He whispers after you but you were already out of the room. After locking yourself in the bathroom down the hall, you slid down the hard wood door, your face in your hands as you truly began to cry. Harry didn’t move from the bed, he curled himself into the pillow beside him and cried just as he had been doing the last few weeks. He should be all cried out by now but somehow.. somehow there always seemed to be more. 

Field vs. Show Goldens

Hey! I really liked that little lesson on goldens. I have a question though, are field goldens still taken to dog shows? Do they have their own category? I personally prefer a dog that looks more like a field golden than a show golden. Do field goldens still have a pedigree? Do breeders breed field and show golden retrievers together sometimes to get the best of both worlds out of them? If you know of a tumblr that could have a lot more information on the topic I’d really appreciate it!


Hi! It depends on the breeder, but there is usually a distinct difference in look between a field and show Golden.


This is my field line. He’s darker and trim with lots of feathers, but not a lot of fluff. Field lines do have a pedigree–hunting people are all about that pedigree, same as show people! These dogs are usually smaller and more compact, not just because they are more inclined to be athletic based on their use, but also because they need to be more portable! It’s easier to fit a 50lb-ish Golden into a canoe than it is a 100lb-ish Golden! They have more drive, but not necessarily more energy. See pawsitivelypowerful’s post on drive for more info on this distinction.

What a lovely stack, right? Well, maybe not lol, but you can still see how itty-bitty he is compared to your stereotypical Golden.

Meanwhile, here is a show line I trained. He’s lighter in color, thicker, and very fluffy! The show lines are stout and less “intense,” aka more likely to be couch potatoes. That’s not to say that they can’t be athletic–they totally can! But AKC likes a stout dog that’s yellow-gold, so that’s what a lot show lines are. 

Above is the AKC standard drawing of the preferred Golden. See how much it looks like the dogs after it? Fluffy, big ol head, thick body? Pretty different from my dark, slim and feathery boy.

AKC judges prefer the show line, but fields can do well in UKC! Some breeders (and ideally all breeders, eventually) will have a Golden that “has it all” for working and conformation, but–like most breeds–that is not always the case. 

I hope this helps!

Listen, if they do another potc movie (very likely bc of that after credits scene) I want it to be centered around the Turners. Hear me out:

I want Will to set off to put down Davy once and for all, probably searching out Jack first (*eunuch joke here*), and Jack doing his whole “why should I?” coy routine which ends up with him agreeing (bc lets face it, he’s practically watched this guy grown into a man and you can’t tell me he doesn’t care about him one some level AND the fact that Davy Jones is gonna be ten times worse than Salazar ever hoped he could be and if he’s coming for Will on the mere account that he was the one who ‘stabbed’ the heart, while dying I may add, what would he do to Jack, who was the one who actually DID the stabbing??) and the original crew going “It’s Will!!1!” while Jack just roles his eyes in the background and gripes to the monkey.

Now lets talk about Henry, because lord knows that boy is obsessed with lore and legend and you can be sure he’s gonna find out where Will’s going somehow, and he’s gonna know exactly who Davy Jones is and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go along. “I lost my father once and….” etc, etc. He’ll probably think he’s being helpful the sweet summer child. I mean, he could be, but I’m not too sure Will is gonna agree.

Then things get messy, because we ALL know that where Davy Jones is, Calypso isn’t far behind. I mean, she’s probably even the reason he’s back in the first place. ‘Love can’t be separated’ and all that. And if they’re gonna stretch out this franchise even more I expect a Calypso and Davy team up even more epic than last time tbh.

Let’s talk about Pirates, because we know they’re not the sharpest tools in the shed. Somewhere along the lines, they’re gonna run into something they can’t figure out, or get into a battle they can’t finish.

This is where I want Elizabeth to come in. Because Elizabeth is still the Pirate King. And I’m sure the minute she finds out Henry is gone as well, she’s gonna go find her family and she’ll be damned too if Will finishes this without her. She’s lived two decades without him, I don’t think she’d pass up the slightest opportunity to join him when this is something they started together. 

I want to see Henry’s face as she comes sailing to their rescue and hear him go “Mother?” in an incredulous tone with Will grinning, in the background as she jumps straight into the fray and puts them all to shame. And Jack looking extremely overwhelmed with all these Turners running around lol.

I want to see an ending that resolves every last open story line, and brings back the nostalgia of the original films. I just really want a film about the Turners