insight is king

Hey, since I’ve recently watched these series, and fallen completely in love with them, could you please reblog this if you post anything to do with:

-Gatchaman Crowds

-Gatchaman Crowds Insight

-^^^Especially Rui Ninomiya

-K Project

-K: Missing Kings

-K: Return Of Kings

-^^^Especially Misaki Yata, Yashiro Isana, and Kuroh Yatogami

Thanks!!!

3

Liam & Georgia (+ Celene & Charlie) on Instagram. | 8/?

Discussion: Is Aaron homophobic or does his dislike of Neil and Andrew’s relationship stem from worry about what Andrew has been through? Or combination of both?

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Bound in Blight and Bliss Chapter 4 - Anguish and Ardor

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10570608/chapters/23673171

“Tell me again.” The Elvenking’s commanding voice rang low and lilting through the empty throne room, his normally stoic tone tinged with just a hint of uncharacteristic anticipation and a more than healthy dose of regal decree, enough that the servant cowering before him didn’t dare object her Liege’s order.

Still, Iôlhel couldn’t quite suppress her heavy inward sigh, careful as she was not to let the truth of her emotions show on her face, though genuinely she was heartily weary of this incessant repetition. Not that she’d let on anything of the ilk; she was much too respectful and afraid of her King to disobey. She shifted nervously where she stood at those dangerously mutinous thoughts, however fleeting they’d been, and tightened the hands she had clasped behind her back, her fingers toying nervously with the tie of the apron affixed about her waist, before she glanced bashfully at the foot of her King’s throne and then back to her scuffed boots once more. Something about the Elvenking had always made her skittish, had her nerves pulling taught, caused her voice to fail her at the most inopportune of times.

“She is quite unique among your guests, My Lord,” Iôlhel said after a lengthy heartbeat, her words notably softer than the Kings, though just as sure somehow; perhaps it was the subject, you, that helped to steel the bend of her spine and straighten the quaver of her voice, “She rarely ever asks for anything, and if she does request a service she makes it clear that I can refuse or object. She treats me with great kindness and fairness.” Iôlhel had almost said like equals, but she heartily suspected that was a prospect just of this King’s reach, a concept that he wouldn’t quite understand or abide, so astutely she held her tongue.

“What does she say of her status? Of her tasks here in the Kingdom?” The monarch asked, the stark interest sparking brightly behind his glittering eyes belaying the forced casualness of his stance, splayed as it was on the magnanimous seat of his throne. Iôlhel had been around enough nobles to know when they were trying to keep up appearances, to don the stony, diplomatic faces of their forebears, and now she could sense that very same concentrated aloofness in her Liege. Funnily enough, before your appearance in this court as one of her charges she had never really noticed that trait in the King. Now it was all she could see.

Iôlhel had to smile at the Kings latest inquiry, thinking fondly of how just last night you’d complained passionately about the captain, Tauriel she thought her name was, and her fierce training regimen as you’d peeled off the worn boots from your screaming feet, growling something to the effect of damn it all to the fires of Mordor, but for now Iôlhel thought she’d keep that particular amusing instance to herself.

“She is grateful for the rare opportunity that you have given her to prove herself in your court,” Iôlhel supplied, mentally patting herself on the back for such a diplomatic response; perhaps she was picking up a thing or two here in the courts of Mirkwood, “She is enthusiastic and eager to perform her tasks. However…” Iôlhel said before trailing off, wondering fervently if she should divulge a simple, but revealing, fact about her new Mistress.

“What?” The King commanded, leaning forward in his lofty seat as his resonant voice thrummed through the echoing chamber, looming over her as his celadon eyes flashed brightly, “Speak, child.”

Iôlhel gulped heavily before she replied, reasoning that she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter now anyway. Your words from the previous night flitted through her mind then, making fondness for you grow deep in her breast, I think we are both prisoners, Iôlhel. It just so happens that my cage is more gilded than yours….

How right her Mistress was.

“She longs for a taste of freedom, My Lord. She speaks fondly of the forests just outside the Kingdom’s walls. I think she yearns to see them.” Iôlhel paused then, glancing down at her boots, scuffed and worn by time and trade, weighted by the invisible fetters of her post, “It is a longing that I can understand.”

The King didn’t speak for long moments in which Iôlhel’s heart hammered fervently in her throat, pulse cloying her huffed breaths and sparking deep rooted panic to bubble in her chest. Had she misspoken? Had she angered her King? She’d heard the rumors of his wrath; though he was slow to it, once provoked he could easily strike down enemy or offender, friend or foe, without so much as batting a starlit eyelash. Iôlhel shivered from something very far from cold then, hoping fervently that she’d leave this audience in one piece.

When the King finally spoke it was with unexpectedly compassionate words that lacked their usual sardonic bite, “I suppose you would, bŷrath.” Iôlhel didn’t dare to look up, even as a blush spread hotly on her cheekbones, her heart fluttering down to its rightful place in her breast at the King’s unexpected softness. “And what-” The King paused his statement abruptly, making Iôlhel glance up hastily to ensure that all was well with him. She supposed the King looked almost nervous then, as if he was holding his breath, “What does she say of me?”

It was only due to her many years of dutiful service as a maid and loyal servant that Iôlhel managed to blink back her momentous surprise. To her budding amusement and incredulity she realized that the King was indeed holding his breath, fervently awaiting her answer. Recognizing an opportunity to grant her Mistress additional favor in this court, something that you alone deserved, she canted her head respectfully and replied.

“She speaks well of you, Your Majesty. She has inquired to me about your nature and disposition, and has seemed pleased with what she has discovered thus far.” The King sat forward on his carven throne as Iôlhel spoke, fully unmasked interest glittering clear and unveiled in his eyes. Iôlhel had to bite back a smile at the fervor with which he hung to her every word; it would seem that the King cared for her Mistress much more than his stoic, stony temperament let on, of that she was sure.

“And what did you tell her?” The King asked, voice sharp and edged with a dangerous warning of what would befall her if her answer was not to his liking. Squaring her shoulders, feeling steadied by the thought of you as her ally, she answered.

“I spoke truthfully,” Iôlhel said, raising her gaze to meet her Kings and barely suppressing the shiver that skittered down her spine in response to the intensity banked in his eyes, “I told her that you are fair and just, that your Kingdom is prosperous and your lands vast. I told her that you are a great King.” Iôlhel diplomatically chose to leave out the part about mentioning the King’s wife to you, seeing as she quite liked her head where it sat on her shoulders and didn’t intend to see it parted from her body any time soon due to a few careless words. Judging by the obvious approval glittering in the King’s eyes, she’d made the right call.

One of his pale, lithe hands rose from the arm of his chair to cup his chin, his long fingers stroking almost imperceptibly at the sharp cut of his cheekbones before he canted his head in a gesture brimming with regal intent.

“I thank you for your insight, bŷrath,” The King said, assurance firmly rooted in his tone once more, as if her words had steeled a yawning  tremor in him that he had been  steadfastly suppressing, a deep sense of unease that she’d managed to quell with her half-truths. “You are dismissed; go see to your duties.”

With a curt but sincere bow, Iôlhel all but ran from the overbearing, cloying presence of her King, deeply grateful when she could gulp in lungful’s of the sweet, fresh air that filtered through the cavernous hallway just outside the King’s throne room. Swiping a hand about her brow, Iôlhel couldn’t help but smile as she thought of the aid she’d provided her Mistress this day. You had proven to be an unexpected, but immensely welcome, companion to break up the dull monotony of Iôlhel’s  life, the very least she could do was put in a good word for you with their unruly, tempestuous King.

The very King whose eyes seemed to glint with curiosity and interest when you were the subject of conversation, sympathy and even a hint of mirth dancing in his cold gaze for the first time in many, many years. Iôlhel had seen very few miracles in her day, but that she was glad to count among them.

Thinking about Papyrus a lot lately and I actually feel bad for him. He seems like a character – perhaps the only character – you don’t need to feel bad for. He’s so lively and it takes so little to make him happy. But then he has moments like saying that no one else has ever liked his spaghetti when you claim you’ve eaten it, or referring to making a friend by giving them “terrible puzzles”.

I’ve half convinced myself he is amnesiac – there’s definitely something anyway, because he’s not incapable of learning but he barely knows anything. Even with the spaghetti the problem is who he’s learning from.

I don’t think he wants to give people terrible spaghetti, precisely, he just… doesn’t have anything else to give (except kindness, optimism and support but he gives them constantly and doesn’t value what he’s giving). And he wants so desperately to give something.

Some of the endings are interesting, for the insight into his character.

The King Papyrus one most obviously, where he’s not only uncertain of himself but makes sure Sans is out of the room before admitting it.

But also the one where Undyne winds up on their couch. He’s so quick to assure you he’s totally fine, even if he doesn’t know what to do with his life, he’s just worried about Undyne. But he’s probably having a bit of an identity crisis (how much of his life was based around trying to get into the royal guard?) at the same time as now dealing with two depressed monsters sharing his home.

And then there’s the one where Toriel is exiled back to the ruins and Sans and Papyrus befriend her and visit a lot. They convince her to leave if someone watches for humans and Papyrus loves it. It’s cute, and also kind of interesting, that this apparently replaces his ambitions for the royal guard. He doesn’t really mind whether he’s protecting humans from monsters or monsters from humans he just wants to protect someone from something.

Post-pacifist fics tend to have him remain very much the same, and yet he’s maybe the character I’d expect to change most, because so much of his character seems to be rooted in what he doesn’t know. Learning about the world, learning things from someone other than Undyne… I don’t think he’s going to be obsessed with spaghetti and the royal guard forever, although he’ll probably always want to nurture and protect people.

I was asked how structurally, lion king heads work with the ‘circle’ method, so I sketched out these real quick to give a little insight!

Of course, there are many different methods-I personally don’t use this EXACT method-but I know a lot of people find it helpful, so if anybody wants to try using the circle method to draw Lion King characters, I hope this gives a quick insight!

Little Lion King (destiel)

Title: Little Lion King 

Author: painedcas

Wordcount: 2503

A/N: Ok this is either going to do really well or be an embarrassment so if you (hvteddean) hate it and want to yell at me go ahead.

Prompt: hvnteddean: like the post season 8, in the bunker, Cas watching movies and dean accidentally shows him the lion king, and cas leaves when mufasa dies and doesn’t talk to dean for a week and then he watches the rest and then he’s happy and then they watch more and he sings all the songs and then they watch like frozen or tangled and cas is like ‘he’s cute for an animation’ and that’s how dean finds out he prefers guys to gals and just fluff everywhere. is that okay? haha!

“Dean can we watch another one please?” Castiel looked beside him to Dean, who he couldn’t tell if he was into the movie or wanted to take a sawn-off to his face.

“Really, Cas? This is the third one today!” Dean hoped he would reconsider, but Castiel’s face showed otherwise.

Ever since Metatron took Castiel’s grace, all the angels have been after him. With Ezekiel inside repairing Sam he’s felt well enough to go out and hunt, leaving Dean in the bunker to help Castiel adjust to human life. 

Dean wasn’t sure when during the first week he was with Castiel he got a sudden obsession with movies, but Dean assumed it was when he made a reference to the latest Iron Man film. Now all he wanted to do is watch all the movies he could just to be able to make references with Dean.

“Ok, Cas. What do you want to watch now?”

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