i'm not sure if i really like this or not


The answer is no. Absolutely no. If she thought she could win this fight why would she be offering to sell the victory to us even for a fortune? Trust me.

So my Gilmore Girls convention was cancelled and I was heartbroken. Turns out I found a different con and instead I will be meeting Milo (and Sean Gunn). When one door closes another opens I guess! MILO guys!!!!

Geez, so this was going to just be a simple sketch with shading, but I ended up liking the linework so much, I couldn’t resist coloring it. And man, let me tell you, it’s a choice I do not regret. I’m almost afraid my next drawing won’t come out as good considering how much I loved this one.

Well, regardless, here’s a beautiful Ansem to enjoy.

Art meme/challenge used in case you want to give it a whirl yourself.

“Do you ever regret…”

Joan was putting honey into her tea at the kitchen counter, her back to Sherlock. She kept stirring, waiting for Sherlock to continue. He didn’t. She turned to look at him, picking up her mug with the spoon still in it.

“Regret what?” she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep. She leaned back against the counter, watching the way Sherlock moved his hands to his lap, a sure sign he was nervous. He knew how much his hands revealed about him.

“Moving back. To the brownstone,” he said, studying the grains of wood in the kitchen table, his forehead heavily wrinkled.

She took a sip of her tea. Too hot. She set it down on the counter, so she could fold her arms across her chest and pin Sherlock with her hard stare he didn’t want to meet.

“Why are you asking me this right now?” she asked, careful to keep any peevishness out of her voice. She wasn’t annoyed, but extremely perplexed. And wary. Sherlock did like to be straightforward with her, but only when it suited him. He had deduced something about her and was seeking to confirm. It was an improvement on the early years of their relationship, when he had simply spat out his assumptions, couching them as scientific deductions in order to make it seem his view was completely logical. It had taken quite some time to get him away from that habit.

The way his shoulders moved she knew he was twiddling his thumbs under the table. His eyes did not move from the wood grain. “Your restlessness in regard to being unable to help others heal…you seemed to have adapted by applying your skills to Shinwell, and his training. But I question if that is enough for you. Do you regret remaining here, with me? Does it make you feel obligated to keep most of yourself tied to our work, rather than pursuing something more…” Here he struggled for words, struggled to keep his hands almost motionless. His mouth twisted.

“…Something more related to your original passions? Those to do with medicine, healing,” he finished, glancing up at her quickly before looking back down.

She had raised her brows without realizing it, and now fought to relax her features. He was throwing a lot at her, she took a few seconds to consider what she did feel. All she knew is that he was wrong. The very suggestion that she regretted anything made her do the mental equivalent of a knee-jerk reaction. No, of course that’s not how I feel. She almost said the words. But the look on Sherlock’s face kept her silent a bit longer.

He looked almost…heartbroken. Whether from her lengthening silence or the fact that he must have already accepted an imaginary truth in his mind. There was a heaviness to his shoulders, a different sort of anger in his features that reminded her far too much of a time on the brownstone roof not so long ago, before Morland had come to New York to wreak more havoc.

“Sherlock, I’m not still here out of any sense of obligation to you. I’m here because I want to be,” she said, knowing if she didn’t say that much Sherlock would begin internalizing more toxic falsehoods than he already had.

“There isn’t more that you want?” he said, finally looking up at her, his shoulders shifting again.

“Are you talking about me returning to medicine? Because even if I had considered it, I wouldn’t be leaving the brownstone to do so. I want to be here, Sherlock,” she said, keeping her voice only gentle enough to carry her sincerity. In truth she was angry. That he still doubted her, still questioned her. But showing her anger wouldn’t do her any good, so she kept it concealed.

“I fear I have made you accept that view, by encouraging your conclusion that this was the best place to dedicate yourself to life as a detective,” he said, looking at her longer this time, searching her face for any confirmation of his words. She blinked at him, hoping the strain she felt around her eyes looked like confusion and not anger.

“I am not here because I convinced myself it was the only place I could be happy, if that’s what you’re implying.” She waited. He didn’t say anything, looking at some point over her left shoulder, every muscle in his body tense. It reminded her how tense she was, but she couldn’t relax.

“I’m here, I’m still here, because doing the work we do, alone, away from you, it—it made no sense to me. I would rather do our work here, with you. The only reason I wanted my own place before was because I needed to know I could work away from you. I needed to find some sort of place for myself, because I only knew this work as it existed beside you, always. I wanted something different, for me. But Andrew taught me that…that wasn’t fair. To him, to me. It wasn’t what I wanted forever. It hurt too much to keep that solitude, Sherlock. I couldn’t…” The words fell out of her like some racing, wild animal, and only when the memory of Andrew lifeless in her arms took hold could she stop talking long enough to think. She bit her lip, took up her mug again. Sipped. It was still hot, but not too much.

“I couldn’t go back to living that way, even if I wanted to. It would be saying that Andrew’s death…meant nothing to me. He didn’t die for me to ignore what his death meant. For the work I do, the work we do. I stay with you because I need it, too. It’s not just for you.” She said the last words softly, almost whispering them into her mug, lifting it again to her mouth as some sort of shield. It wasn’t enough, but it was all she had to hold between them.

Sherlock was now turning her hard stare back on her, his eyes unwavering on her face. She returned his stare out of sheer stubbornness, though she felt suddenly tired and wanted nothing more than to finish her tea in her bedroom alone.

“You admit that you remain here because you feel you deserve nothing more,” he said, his strong emotions apparent in how the words fell, staccato, abrasive against her. She refused to show any response, holding her mug still in front of her chest.

“What I deserve and what I need are two different things,” she said, ignoring how her hands wanted to shake. She took another sip of tea.

“I don’t think they are,” he said, shifting his shoulders back as if he would rise, but something about her stance kept him seated. She was relieved, as much as she could be.

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Sherlock. I do.” And before he formed his response, she pushed herself away from the counter and left the room. He would try to continue the conversation later, she knew. As she pounded up two flights of stairs, berating herself for every word that had left her mouth, the memory of Andrew’s cold skin made her completely forget the mug of tea in her hands. Once she got to her room, it sat forgotten on her nightstand.

Sherlock went up to check on her an hour later, and found her asleep. Her comforter was pushed nearly completely off the bed, and her sheets were tangled almost beyond recognition around one leg, the rest of her uncovered. Only her red cardigan served as any real barrier against the cold. He softly crept in and pulled the comforter off the floor, draping it over her. He took the cold mug of tea on his way out.

anonymous asked:

Hi! Do you have a fave batboy? If you do then who is it and why? Thanks~

Tim Drake! I love a lot about him:

  •  his intelligence - he’s?? Such a good detective??
  • how he’s kind of a fucking mess (the quiet kind of self-destruction, right?) but he’s also completely badass
  • I also really like his (original) backstory - a fanatic kid who was obsessed with Batman and Robin for years but didn’t step into the role until Jason died and he didn’t have much choice if he didn’t want Batman to go completely off the rails
  • Did I mention he’s kind of mess though
  • Like really
  • I also love how he can be kind of… morally dubious sometimes. Some of my favourite Tim moments are when he’s blowing up the League of Assassin’s bases or when he has the CIA running circles after him or when people are seriously wondering if this boy is sociopathic and power-hungry. (In other news: I need villain!Tim leading the Titans, please and thank you??)
  • I also really adore how he’s very results motivated. By that I mean we sometimes see lots of heroics being performative, we see heroes spending time worrying about how they’re perceived and their reputation, ect. Tim just wants results. He doesn’t do it for the acknowledgement, or because he wants to be a better person, or any of that. He does it to get results.

I’m really sorry for not posting as much guys and thank you to those who have been patient with me even though I’m sure I don’t deserve it. My biggest worry is that you guys will get bored of me taking forever to post a new text and unfollow, much like the anon did. I don’t blame you if you want to unfollow, but that anon kind of rubbed me the wrong way but it’s all good. The reason it takes me a while to do texts is because I want to put out the best content. I don’t want to put out a text that took 5 minutes and not that entertaining just to have something to post. I feel like that’s just giving you guys scraps and ya’ll deserve a 3 course meal. I believe in quality over quantity. When I make my texts, they’re usually thought out days or maybe weeks in advance and when I actually start writing, I may start it one day, then leave and come back a few days later just to make sure it’s good enough to post. So all I ask is that you bare with me, and when I’m not making texts, I’ll be checking in with updates on my life and also checking to see what you guys are up to and just chat with you all. Thank you so much to all who follow me, you mean so much to me, more than you know and I will do better for you.

Comic N-040 “Comfy doesn’t have a T and I’m distressed”

This comic is dedicated to my dog who has started faking wanting to go out so she can steal my spot. Boo, I love you but you’re a jerk.


Funny how that works, huh?

x by 무구포
Permission to repost was granted by the artist.


A big thanks to BTS for inventing shorts. 

anonymous asked:

while we are on the subject of spouse remember when Harry said to Louis face "you are getting married!!" and Louis was sort of completely lost for words? I loved that!

FOUND IT!! This moment, right? Because what even was that??
Like, why so certain Harry..? 😏


Steggy AU: Six months after Steve goes down in the Valkyrie, Howard and his team find his wreckage in the middle of the Arctic and, much to their surprise, he is still alive. Once recovered, Steve returns to the Commandos while Peggy stays on in New York with the SSR. That is until the Commandos requests the SSR’s help with an undercover operation and Steve chooses the worst time to propose.
Spoiler Alert: The next time Steve pops the question, Peggy says yes!

Merry Christmas to my Steggy Secret Santa, @mrgaretcarter

One of my work for the Uni.


panic! at the disco lyrics + dance