i'm actually rather proud of this one


(Holy shit my dudes this took too long.  Most comics will not be in this clean, colored style, but I really wanted my first comic for the blog to look nice so here.  Next up: how Jeremy actually discovers his powers.  That one will not be colored so it should be up much sooner.  Hope this was worth the wait - Mod Z.)

(Also for this AU, Jeremy, Michael, and Christine have all been friends since they were little kids.  Jeremy did have a crush on Christine back in middle school but it went nowhere and he grew out of it after realizing he’d rather just have her as a friend.)

i need you right here with me

„What did I say, Quill? Eh?!”

“I know, I know…”

“Rollin’ ‘round in the flarking snow like a crazed Orloni – ‘s like yer tryin’ to catch a fucking cold!”

“… !”

“… Now, wha’s that face fer?”

“… Mum used to say that, too. With the cold.”

“… Oh, for flark’s sake. Hold still.”

“Wha-… but that’s your scarf!”

“Yer gonna steal me ‘nother one, ya hear? Now shut up an’ hold still.”

“… Thanks.”


“Didn’t say nothing.”

“Thought so.”


Peter does steal another scarf, and Yondu doesn’t even mock him about getting the color wrong (white instead of red) because the boy actually went and got the most expensive cloth in the whole universe, and Yondu would rather eat his own arrow then confess that he loves the thing.

(Peter is also not allowed to mention his late mother in any argument, ever - Yondu just forgets to tell the boy as much.)

13x03 Coda Fic

The first thing that he registers is the darkness that presses in on him everywhere he looks. It weighs heavily against his body and slows his movements as he sits up to look around himself. There is nothing to see but darkness, stretching out all around him. He thought he heard something, a voice echoing out there but now there is nothing, nothing but the darkness.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. He can’t seem to hold onto time in this place. It slips away from him, flowing faster like a river in a storm and at other times it’s barely a trickle. All he can do is sit there and stare around him. The voice has vanished, if it ever actually existed, he no longer knows.

He finally gets to his feet, his movements feel sluggish, the darkness pressing in on him. It appears to be shifting, an oily black mass that he can’t seem to focus on, as it rolls and sways and reforms around him. His head becomes dizzy and he closes his eyes. It does nothing to stop the darkness.

With his eyes closed he now focuses on an ache that seems to echo from his chest. It feels like a sharp cold pain but at the same time a constant burning ache, that rises and falls in its intensity. He can’t pinpoint either of these pains for a long time. The sharp pain is steady and despite how its edges feel cold, it is the burning ache that fluctuates that intrigues and hurts him the most. He can vaguely remember red eyes and a silver blade but everything else is gone. His mind is blank.

He slowly begins to move forward, his eyes opening once more to darkness. A voice rings out, the word hello being swallowed up by the shadows instantly and it takes him a while to realise that it was he who spoke, his lips moving without his knowledge, his tongue pushing the word out only for it to fall apart, no one there to hear it.

He doesn’t know how long he walks, his feet slowly moving forward in the darkness, the ground beneath him feeling unsteady, threatening to fall apart and leave him to fall if he makes the wrong move. All of a sudden the burning ache flares brighter and sharper than before and he falls forward, hitting the ground hard but thankfully not falling through it. His hands press against his chest though there is no discernible wound and he is left to curl in against the pain that seems to emanate from within. It doesn’t abate. If anything it grows stronger and stronger until he is paralysed with pain, gasping for air that he can’t seem to find, salt falling into his panting mouth as it rolls down his cheeks. His arms are wrapped around his body, almost swallowed up by the darkness that presses in closer against him. It’s no longer silent but permeated by quiet whispers that seem to echo. The mass of shadows shifts into shapes that he can barely make out, their forms far from human, until he closes his eyes.

Green eyes…

He jolts as the pain fills his whole body before fading away back into an ache in his chest. He continues to gasp for breath as his mind suddenly is overwhelmed. The pain wasn’t his. Or it was, but it wasn’t his alone. Despite death, despite Lucifer and the blade he can now remember clearly, it’s all still shared. He can remember the sand beneath his feet and the power radiating behind him as the blade pierced him. He can remember the wide and horrified green eyes.


He lurches to his feet, pressing past the shifting shapes that reach out to him, their clinging shadows trying to catch his arms and knock him back. Despite his vision flickering with the confusing shapes around him he forces himself forward. That pain wasn’t just his to suffer. That agony wracked another body and he knew he had to find him, just had to find him and then it would be gone, then he would be okay.


He couldn’t hear anything over that same beloved name echoing in his mind, over and over until the pain hit him again. This time he gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue. His knees were weak and his legs shook, his hands convulsing as his shoulders hunched. The burning flared in every corner of his body and with every step he took it rattled and shook inside him.


That was his name. He could remember now. Cas. He was Cas. And he didn’t belong here. The familiar voice echoing in his mind and his chest and his feet and his shoulders reminded him of that, reached into him and dug hooks into his lungs and muscles and bones and pulled him forward, guiding him through the shadows. Guiding him back.



anonymous asked:

Ask trust me, I LOVE Lucie, she such a sweet and so adorable, but I think you should probably change some of her design, you mostly used Betty's main dress and hair. I have an idea, why don't you make the bottom of her dress form a rose, to kinda show "she's a sweet and kind as a roses." I'm thinking of starting an ask blog called "ask Bendy-Boris-Alice-Lucie and Andy" but I want to get yours and the creator of Andy acceptance, I'm gonna use the rose design if you say yes.

(( THANK YOU, Lol actually anon the dress was totally unintentional and the hair isn’t the same beside the part in the middle, im gonna be honestly sometimes when you design things it will look similar to something that already exist lol but i love her design tbh and im gonna have to say no i would rather you not :( sorry she is very personal to me and one of my many characters i am proud of so i would like to kindly decline ))

You Will Forever Stand Alone

Fandom: Knights of the Old Republic
Pairing: F!Revan/Carth Onasi
Warning: character death 

 Title comes from something Malak says to Revan: “You belong to neither the light nor the darkness. You will forever stand alone.” I wrote this, as one does, in a text message at around midnight because I wanted to give @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels some feels to tell people about. It comes from two things: an exploration of Revan choosing the dark side ending without being wholly evil (inspired by something Kreia says about Revan becoming dark lord out of necessity) and the cut dark side ending with the Carth romance. 

I would say enjoy, but, well. 

She’s not evil. 

She’s not evil. 

She’s not evil. She knows that. At least, she’s pretty sure she knows that. 

Pretty sure is not enough to erase the look on his face. 

Pretty sure is not enough to bring him back. 

She takes a deep breath and boxes it all in. She’s not evil. None of them understood. And they were the ones who tried to kill her

You should have run, she thinks with a small pang that marks the beginnings of regret, and then she stamps it down. She made her choice. They all did. 

But she’s the one who has to live with the consequences. 

It doesn’t matter anymore, she tells herself. They’re dead, and he’s gone, and now all that’s left is her and the galaxy. 

Her, and the galaxy, and her best friend. 

She knows they can’t destroy the Star Forge. If Bastila thinks they’re serving the dark side, taking over the galaxy, whatever it is she thinks they’re doing, then so be it. Let her think what she wants. 

But Revan, she’s learning, always had notions greater than those of light and dark. There are more important things to worry about. A bigger threat. 

She doesn’t know what it is. She doesn’t remember. But she’s the only one who even has an inkling. And the Star Forge might be the galaxy’s only chance to survive it. 

She’s not evil. She’s just doing what has to be done. 

Mission’s face in her mind’s eye, frozen at the moment the girl begged her not to do this, says otherwise. The pleading in her eyes. The disappointment in Jolee’s. The desperation in Zaalbar’s and Juhani’s. The betrayal in Carth’s. 

She shuts it all down, then, because she has to. If there’s one thing Revan is good at, she’s learning, it’s doing what needs to be done. 

So they tell the Republic Carth is dead. And they board the Star Forge, but not to destroy it. 

She can feel the darkness there. It doesn’t concern her. She has larger concerns. Revan always had larger concerns. 

Malak, though. Malak tried to consume the darkness. And in turn, it consumed him. 

She doesn’t feel evil, or dark, or any of that. In the moment, she just feels… sad. Because whatever he became… he was her friend. 

She wonders if she could have made him understand. That darkness wasn’t their goal, that they needed to stay above that conflict. That ultimately their aim was to protect. 

She doesn’t know. It probably doesn’t matter. But she still wonders. 

Somehow, she’s not surprised to see him, here at the end. She wishes he’d stayed away. She wishes he hadn’t loved her. 

It would have made everything so much easier. 

But he’s here, and he’s looking at her in that way he has, and she can already feel cracks forming in her walls of it has to be done.

Because of course her one weakness had to be someone who loved her so much he’d chase her into hell itself. 

“I love you,” he says. And he means it. Still. After everything. Even after he believes she’s gone and sided with evil, he still loves her. Another crack fractures through the wall of her carefully constructed defense. 

“You may not love me, you may not love anything anymore now that you’ve gone over to the dark side–" 

Not true. The dark side, or the loving bit. She’s doing this because she loves them. The Republic. The galaxy. And because, if Malak is any example to go by, she may be the only one who can use the Star Forge without losing control. 

”–but I believe that there’s still some part of you that I can reach. There’s a part that believes in… in hope. And mercy. And love. And that part knows that it will soon be gone forever.“ 

….is he right? If she goes through with this, if she takes the Star Forge, if she conquers the Republic to save it… 

She might not be evil, but she’s been down this path before. And this path is a cold and lonely place. She does what has to be done, but… 

Revan never wondered if the price was too high. Revan never made any apologies for what she did. But she… she’s different now. And she is wondering. 

Bastila’s there, then, and she’s trying to be all tough and dark side and she sounds so much like Malak did, before he had any real blood on his hands, back when he still acted like they were Padawans playing at soldiers. 

Revan would have done what had to be done. Revan would have killed him where he stood, because he was her weakness, and she couldn’t afford weakness. 

Revan never would have loved him in the first place. 

But she’s not Revan. So she lets him speak. 

End this here. Kill Bastila, and the Republic can destroy the Star Forge. And both of them along with it. 

Tactically it makes no sense. To lose two such valuable assets in one go… so why is she considering it? 

He’s not wrong when he calls the Star Forge evil. She’d have to be Force blind not to feel it. And in the wrong hands… well, look what Malak did with it. If someone could get the better of her again… is it really worth the risk? 

She realizes after a moment that she’s almost trying to reason with Revan. With the part of her that still is Revan. But she–they–both she and Revan know the reason. The real reason. 

She can’t kill Carth. And Revan would have thought that maybe he knows that, and he’s using it against her, but she doesn’t believe it. 

Because she can see the raw emotion in his eyes, and for better or for worse, she knows Carth. At this point, she knows him better than she knows herself. 

She thinks maybe he knows her better than she knows herself too. 

“If you don’t, all you have is… is emptiness and darkness." 

He’s not wrong. She’s been down this path before. She knows how it ends. Or rather, how it doesn’t. 

"You don’t want that. Please don’t want that. Stay. Let’s end this now. Together." 

And Force help her, but his fists are clenched at his sides like he’s fighting his every instinct just to keep from reaching for her, and she just breaks. And that wall shatters into so many useless shards.

Because she’s not Revan. And she does love him. And she can’t walk Revan’s path again. Not alone. 

If there’s another way, someone will find it. For her… this is all there is. 

Bastila doesn’t see it coming. She’s so confident in the power of the dark side, so sure that Revan has been seduced by its power just like the rest of them, so utterly certain that she can’t turn away. 

But she’s wrong. And then she’s dead. 

She closes her eyes, deactivating her lightsaber slowly as she thinks of all the lives she’s taken, trying to do what had to be done. 

"I’m sorry.” It’s half a whisper, more of a quiet plea than anything, and then his arms are around her and she feels she’s done the right thing. 

Maybe there is no right thing. Maybe the galaxy is doomed. But he’s with her, and he loves her, and he believed in her enough to follow her here and risk his own life. 

No, not risk. Sacrifice. And with that thought she pulls away enough to look him in the eye. “You could still save yourself,” she reminds him quietly. 

The look he gives her breaks her heart all over again. “There’s no point. There’s no place I’d rather be than here.” He takes her in his arms again, holding her close, and murmurs into her hair, “You’re very brave to make the decision you did. I… I love you. You know that, right?" 

"I love you too.” Her voice is barely a whisper, muffled against his chest, but as his arms tighten around her, she knows he heard. 

There, at the end of the universe, it’s all that matters.

Sometimes, when an assignment takes me a long and arduous amount of time to do, and involves a lot of tears, my mom will ask me when I’m done “don’t you feel like you accomplished something?” And I don’t. I tell her no. The thing I don’t tell her, not because I don’t want to but because I’ve just spent hours crying over homework, is it don’t because I took hours to complete the bare minimum. I Completed The Task. That isn’t an accomplishment, that’s a failure on my part.

The only real time I feel accomplishment after finishing something is on my own. If I’m making something for myself, I set the bar, the bare minimum, the Good Enough. Good Enough tends to be that I can look at it, listen to it, watch it without wanting to cross it out, delete it, or cover my ears. Good Enough is tolerable. Anything more than that, going above and beyond Good Enough, is an accomplishment. If I actually like the thing, that is an accomplishment.

With school, I can’t do that. The bare minimum is completing the task, and anything more than that isn’t recognized. Sometimes you can only boomerang back, and trying to do more just lowers your grade because you “didn’t follow instructions” or “it wasn’t understandable” (I’ve actually had a teacher tell me that, in a programming class, because my output didn’t look exactly like what was in the book).

School cannot give me a sense of accomplishment. All other can give me is a string of personal failures, either because I only did the bare minimum or because I didn’t do it at all (executive dysfunction is fun). The only reflection of my self worth I get out of school is a twisted, mangled thing, telling me that I’m not good enough, that I don’t try hard enough, that I’ll never be enough. Get a bad grade and I failed. Get a good grade and I’m passing, doing the bare minimum.

There is no winning.


anonymous asked:

Hi, I'm a libfem who's recently been doing research, asking questions, and just really thinking about the divisive question of "what makes a woman a woman?" I found out that I agree with the radfem answer. And it scared the shit out of me. I'm so frustrated that when I (politely) ask transpeople and activists what the difference between gender identity and personality is they just call me a terf and don't answer my question. I hate that I'm afraid to ask "terf-y" questions, or any questions :/

It really does suck. I was once in your position, as were most if not all radical/radical leaning feminists at one point. Radical feminists occupy this specific, weird space because both the left and the right hate us and it’s frustrating, and asking questions and having differing opinions are very frowned upon in most progressive circles. I’m proud of you for learning what radfems actually think rather than buying into the typical liberal paranoia that makes mostly rational people think that because we think trans women aren’t women, that we’re somehow advocating genocide.

Okay, so…at some point during the several times I’ve rewatched the amazingphil Let’s Play of Shelter, I noticed that all the baby badgers were unique. So I took it upon myself to figure out how much he stayed true to their actual names (i.e. the names he originally gave them all). 

This (excellently-illustrated) picture shows their general pattern and when they died. As you can see, Phil was almost right. Thor did make it rather far. However, the ultimate survivor–surprising everyone–was the one we thought we lost first. Bobby.

Crudelis et Magnificus. Let us welcome chaos, for the third time.

When You’re Evil - Voltaire | Crudelis et Magnificus - Last Ranker OST | Seven Devils - Florence and the Machine | Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde | Blumenkranz - Kill La Kill OST | City - Hollywood Undead | Empire(Let Them Sing) - Bring Me the Horizon | Under the Kicks - Ellie Goulding vs. Foster the People | Living Dead - Marina and the Diamonds | Remember the Name - Fort Minor | Haters Gonna Hate - Chunk! No, Captain Chunk! | Strange Comfort - The Color Morale | Call to the Warrior - Affiance | I Will Illuminate - Silverstein | You Should’ve Killed Me When You Had the Chance - A Day to Remember | We’re All in Danger - Dangerkids | I Am the Arsonist - Silverstein | When They Come For Me - Linkin Park 

[listen on 8tracks] [cover art] 
(warning; this is a rather loud mix with some screaming. be advised when setting volume.)

anonymous asked:

Did you notice that Oliver's insecurities in 4.06 involved wondering if he was smart enough for Felicity? It reminded me of the banter about their contrasting educational achievements, going back to their first meeting. Oliver's failure at playing the cute-but-dumb frat boy, Felicity's hacking Oliver's HS grades (& bringing them up when her hot billionaire vigilante boss needed cutting down to size)... The writers remembered the little things about their characters. I'm so proud of them.

I did notice that, and I actually loved it.

My favorite fictional couples have always been the ones with very different personality traits but very similar core beliefs so that they complement rather than oppose one another. “Opposites attract” is something that can work in movies that are one-off and end after 120 minutes. Complementary characters are what work for me in series, going back to Mulder and Scully on The X-Files and Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter. Chemistry isn’t enough for sustainability, which is why “the Moonlighting Curse” is basically bullshit. Getting a couple together won’t self-destruct a love story if there’s substance beneath the sparks and conflict. Oliver and Felicity are both very different and very similar, and I think that makes them believable as a long-term couple.

Which is not at all what you asked. Apologies for the tangent.

Anyway, I’ve always kind of loved that Oliver is intelligent as a person but is super dumb academically. I really don’t think that Felicity would have helped Oliver in the early days if he came across as some sort of genius whose only blank spot was in computer sciences. He was just kinda dumb and bad at lying, so there was no huge risk or creepiness in helping him.

I also like that the show has played Oliver academic shortcomings straight. He’s always been pretty forthright about not knowing how to do or handle certain things, and Arrow has never tried to embarrass him about it. His talents lie elsewhere, and that’s fine.

I do think that it’s realistic that Oliver not being particularly scholarly would come up between them at some point. Complementary personalities are still bound to clash from time to time, and if Oliver had been the one sniping at Felicity in 4x06, I’m sure that she would have come up with something about which to be insecure. It’s realistic, and it worked for me.