irons (pressing)


SPX 2016 Panel - Indie Publishing: Make the Comics You Want to See

What does it take to become an indie publisher? Grit, luck, talent, or all three? These diverse and innovative publishers saw a need for certain types of comics, so they went out and made them happen. C. Spike Trotman of Iron Circus Comics, Raighne of @2dcloud, Kevin Czap of Czap Books and Annie Koyama of Koyama Press are making the comics that they want to see and that indie/alt fans want to read. Moderated by Rob Clough of High-Low.

Support 2dcloud’s Spring 2017 Kickstarter! We are so CLOSE! <3 <3 <3

bts as pleasing things
  • Jin: a new perfume, the perfect pen stroke, a freshly-ironed shirt, pressed flowers
  • Yoongi: chillstep soundcloud music, a blanket that just came out of the dryer, dark stormy nights
  • Namjoon: a fresh book (or an old book both are nice), rough wool sweaters, old journals
  • Hoseok: old architecture, blurred crowds, amusement parks at night, a warm cup of tea
  • Jimin: small animals, jackets with patches, large fields, the smell of the ocean, butterflies
  • Taehyung: watching fireworks on the pier, warm cotton candy, small, colorful houses, new coffee shop
  • Jungkook: fuzzy blankets, the scent of a rainy morning, neon signs, soft jazz, waves crashing onto your legs

anonymous asked:

every tuesday, the same kid with the acid-green hair, in the same ratty sweatshirt, duct-taped sneakers, and not-so-artfully torn jeans asks you the same question - the question they asked you the day you started here, as a freshman. you're a junior now. "do you know where the botany class is held?" they ask, gentle hand on your elbow. "it's my first day, I'm totally lost," they say in their familiar, self-deprecating tone. you've tried everything. you've tried escorting them to botany. (cont)

you’ve tried directing them everywhere other than their class. you’ve tried ignoring them. you’ve tried begging them to skip, tried pressing iron, witch-hazel, salt into their hands. but still, every tuesday for the last two and a half years, they’ve approached you for help finding the botany class. you’ve changed your hair color three times since then, grown a few inches, but the kid never gets older. no one will make eye-contact with you the moment they put their hand on your shoulder. (cont)

no one wants to help, no one wants to get involved. you never see the kid with green hair around campus, you don’t know where they go when it isn’t tuesday. you don’t want to know. but today is a tuesday, so the lost-looking kid scuffs their duct-taped sneakers on the pavement on their way to talk to you. your roomate squeezes your hand once, in pity, then lets go, hurrying away from the two of you. (cont)            

“sorry to bother you,” they say, flashing you that smile, with crinkled brown eyes. “you just seemed familiar - have we met? at orientation maybe? - but anyway, do you know where the botany class is held? it’s my first day, I’m totally lost…”            


Arya Meme: (9/10) Scenes
↳ From here we bend our oars for home, and I suggest you do the same.”
I have no home, Arya thought. I have no pack. And now I don’t even have a horse.
The captain was turning away when she said, “What ship is this, my lord?”
He paused long enough to give her a weary smile. “This is the galleas Titan’s Daughter, of the Free City of Braavos.”
“Wait,” Arya said suddenly. “I have something else.”
She had stuffed it down inside her smallclothes to keep it safe, so she had to dig deep to find it, while the oarsmen laughed and the captain lingered with obvious impatience.
“One more silver will make no difference, child,” he finally said.
“It’s not silver.” Her fingers closed on it. “It’s iron. Here.”
She pressed it into his hand, the small black iron coin that Jaqen Hghar had given her, so worn the man whose head it bore had no features. It’s probably worthless, but…
The captain turned it over and blinked at it, then looked at her again. “This… how… ?”
Jaqen said to say the words too. Arya crossed her arms against her chest. “Valar morghulis,” she said, as loud as if she’d known what it meant.
“Valar dohaeris,” he replied, touching his brow with two fingers. “Of course you shall have a cabin.”

Library AU (Wesper)

Ok, but?? Has anyone not thought of Wesper for the Library AU??

  • Wylan’s a library shelver with those nerdy hipster glasses and an iron-pressed shirt with collars poking out from underneath a knit sweater
  • Jesper’s just there to read the latest batch of Zemeni stories the library acquired
  • he nearly drops his books when he sees this dork reaching on the tips of his sneakers - untied, of course - to push a thick atlas back on its shelf. 
  • hello, who is this and why hasn’t the library informed him they were hiring cute boys now
  • Wylan tries to hide the fact that he can’t read from Jesper as soon as he meets him 
  • ”The geography section is two shelves over, you know.” 
  • “…oh.”
  • Wylan gets worked up and stressed out because he’s done this before, he’s hidden his disability before, he should be used to the guilt, but WHY is it ten times worse with this boy 
  • and Jesper soon finds out, but doesn’t seem the least bit fazed 
  • ”I could read to you.”
  • he and Wylan hide in the nooks and crannies of the library when Wylan’s shift is up and during those minutes, Jesper reads to Wylan about suspense, adventure, and drama
  • they stay in the library even after it closes and just run through the shelves laughing, taking down books that they like
  • Jesper picks stories from Novyi Zem and Shu Han, a diverse collection of fiction and nonfiction
  • he makes sure to pick ones with evocative descriptions so Wylan can picture them clearly 
  • Wylan selects atlases with richly colored illustrations and complex patterns that seem to swirl underneath his hands 
  • and also he ransacks the music score section 
  • traces the notes and measures underneath his fingers, humming the melodies the scores lay out in ink 
  • Jesper takes one look at this and swallows 
  • *kill bill sirens* 
  • and then Wylan looks up at him and smiles a little bashfully 
  • “Sorry. Bad habit of mine.”
  • Jesper just clears his throat and tries not to look down at Wylan’s lips 
  • “Bad habits for someone aren’t always horrible for everyone else.”

“Peter!” You yelled, your voice echoing in the cool night. It was raining slightly, clouds covered the city like a thick blanket, sheltering you from the light of the stars and full moon. The yellow wall light castes an orange hue on the concrete floor as you exited the staircase. You were on the roof of the tall block of flats where Peter lived, staring around you for a sign of his tall body. You yelled out his name once more, receiving no answer, the only voice replying was yours as your shout bounced off of the wall behind you. You stepped out further, peeking around the corner. A large gust of wind greeted you, blowing your hair in different directions, blocking your vision. Then, you saw his silhouette illuminated by the other lamp that stood in the corner of the roof. He was clutching his mask in his right hand, fingers balled around the silver eyes that were stitched into the red material. His head was hung in shame, body appearing to be weak and frail. You were hardly surprised, after all, Aunt May was in hospital after a recent battle Spiderman-Green Goblin battle, and he was obviously blaming himself. You edged towards him, his name slipping from your lips in a softer tone this time, one filled with empathy and sadness. He didn’t move a muscle, glare still focuses on the city. You walked up next to him, looking up at him. He was stood on the small wall that sat around the perimeter of the roof, just right to the lamp. You placed one foot on the wall, right hand clutched around the lamp. You calmed your nerves, assuring yourself that if you fell, he would catch you. With one push, you were next to him. “It wasn’t your fault,” you stated. Offering him the only form of comfort you deemed effective. You watch him as his muscles tense, head slowly rising. He still doesn’t face you. “I could’ve protected her, been there for her and no one else,” he mumbles, tone slightly harsh. “And let that train full of people fall to their deaths? You know she would’ve wanted you to help those civilians over herself Peter, she wouldn’t have forgiven herself otherwise,” you tell him softly, knowing how fragile he is. “I’m the reason she is hurt. If the Goblin hadn’t have known who I was, she would-” “You’re right. He pulled her into the fight to hurt you, to get inside your mind and make your life a misery. That’s the cost of being a hero,” you tell him, pausing momentarily. “But if there was no Spiderman, no saviour, this world would be turned upside down and killed. You set the peace-” “But this cost! This cost of having my friends put in danger, my uncle murdered, the remains of my family erased. No praise I’ve received from these people can match to the loss I have to endure,” he yells into the dark knight, voice cracking slightly. There’s a silence, filled with the tapping of raindrops on the floor. “So, what now? You stop being Spiderman? We both know you can’t stop helping people,” you tell him. The wind grows stronger and colder, your jumper now soaked through. He turns his head towards you, glancing at your face. “Go inside Y/N, you’ll freeze,” he whispers, calmer this time. “Not without you, you need to eat,” you tell him, adamant that you will not budge. He faces you now, before letting out a visible sigh. His eyebrows drop, eyes flickering as he watches your face. You crack a heartfelt smile at him, watching as the corners of his mouth perk up a little. You take his hand in yours and lead him inside and back to his apartment. Once you reach his door, he stops, before banging a fist on the wooden frame. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, grunting a little before running away from you. “What? Peter! Where are you going?!” “Trust me,” he yells, not looking back at you. “Peter! What the-?” You pause, placing your forehead against the door in anger and annoyance. You’re currently freezing cold and he has run off again? Whilst though you are stewing in your anger, you feel yourself begin to fall forward. Thankfully, you catch yourself before you fall, placing a foot in front of you quickly. You look up at the figure in front of you, seeing Peter with a large grin standing before you. He is refraining from laughing. “How-” “I left the balcony door open, I don’t carry keys,” he says, signalling to his suit. He half chuckles, before pulling you inside. Peter disappears into his room before returning with a t-shirt. He throws it at you, telling you to put it on. You lock yourself in his room and switch the clothing, feeling suddenly warmer and comforted. His scent is imprinted on the t-shirt, the strong smell warming you inside. You scope around his room, smiling to yourself as you see photos of him with various awards placed on his wall. You hear a soft knock on the door. “Y/N? Can I change?” He asks through the door. You quickly open it. And there Peter stands, a towel hung low around his waist, revealing his sculpted body. His hair is wet and ruffled, short curls falling around his face. He weaves a hand through it, taming it slightly. Your eyes are almost popping it of their sockets. “Y/N?” He says again, and again. It takes you a while to notice you’re blocking the doorway. “Sorry,” you repeat, retreating to the lounge area. You take a seat on his sofa, the image ebbed into your mind. Suddenly, he’s beside you again, hair still a little wet. You smile awkwardly at him when he turns the television on. He flicks through the channels, settling on an old comedy to watch. But, as Peter is laughing slightly at the film, you can’t seem to tear your gaze off of him, even though the film sounds pretty good, you can’t focus. For some reason, your mind wanders. You begin to imagine what would’ve happened if Peter wasn’t next to you right now, if he decided to do something harmful after hearing about Aunt May. You swallow the ball rising in your throat. “Y/N? You alright?” He asks softly. You look at him, his eyes are still full of sadness and guilt, mouth frowning a little. You give him a subtle nod, trying to smile. He’s not convinced. You feel so overwhelmed from thinking of your life without him. He outstretches his arms, signalling for you to hug him. You move next to him, resting now your head on his chest, arms wrapping around his torso. “Are you alright?” You ask him. “I feel better now,” he breathes, chest vibrating as he speaks. “Peter, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you sigh, your grip around him tightening. He exhales. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. Your finger traces small circles on his chest whilst you listen to his heartbeat. You feel so safe with Peter, so loved. His fingers begin to stroke through your hair, sending shivers through your spine as he tentatively brushes all stray hairs away from your face. “Y/N,” he breathes. You look up at him now, faces centimetres apart. Your chest constricts when you notice him glance at your lips. Your hand moves up to his cheek, softly grazing his skin. Once he closes his eyes, completely relaxed, you feel a sudden urge to kiss him. And you do. You move forward slightly, brushing your lips over his briefly. He tenses, eyes opening to see if he is just having a crazy dream or if you are in fact, kissing him. He holds your nervous stare, and then quickly kisses you. Your arms move around his neck and you pull him close, smiling as he hums softly. You then pull apart, him hovering over you. His eyes shine in the dim lighting of his living room, tousled hair still a little damp. “Wow,” he murmurs. “Not too shabby, Spiderman,” you grin, pulling him in once again. Part 2? 💜 taking requests 😋 (creds to gif owner - love it)

Originally posted by dunbaerrito