its been edited before but i like it so i do what i want

Hey guys

Actually it’s more like

Sorry I’ve been so MIA! I’ve been locked away writing and working frantically to get my dissertation written. And to top things all off, my PI pushed up one of my deadlines because she wants to go through the full complete thesis first and give me edits before sending it out to my committee (which is understandable, I’m not surprised this happened).

So my completed draft is due to her by Tuesday, and my finished dissertation needs to be to my committee a week from tomorrow. I defend 3 weeks from tomorrow. This is the point I’m at

So thank you for putting up with me and my radio silence, it’s just hardcore go time on my end. The best part is I know you all understand, and we all have to go through this at some point. 

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I can do this. 

The One in Which You Want to Divorce Him // l.h.

(Mobile) Masterlist

word count: 2k+

“Do you think I’m enjoying this?” his voice suddenly cut through the tension, slicing the silence in two. He threw his hands in the air, before he stemmed them on his hips as he fixated you with a stare. You’d never seen such a hard look on his usually soft face. Where there’d once been love and admiration hidden in his laugh lines, now all you could read was the anger pouring out of his pores. You found you couldn’t endure it any longer, so you diverted your gaze to something else. Why, had the carpet changed its colour? And he said, “I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.” And you were agreeing with him, but only on the inside. Your exterior gave no reaction.

You sat there, quietly studying different meaningless furniture, magazines and such, until your eyes landed upon your child. Your sweet sleeping child, who had no idea what was going on as he slumbered in his rocker. How, right now, as he was somewhere in dreamland, his parents were falling to pieces and shattering everything nearby along with them. How this house, which had been his home for the short span of his life, was getting colder and colder by the second. You two had build it on your love and the hope of a happy future, but there was none of that anymore. Right now it was filled with the screams echoing through the hallways, the glares of family pictures hung on the walls. You so desperately wished you could give your baby a happy childhood. Which is why you did what you had to do.

“I’ve already made up my mind,” you told him, surprised at how strong your voice sounded. For the past few weeks it had always been breaking, the weight of your sadness too heavy to carry. But it’s done now. You were done. This house was no longer your home and this man no longer your husband nor the father of your child. You knew you deserved more. You knew he knew. “Sign the papers and drop them off at my mother’s place. Or at my lawyer’s. Whichever one is more convenient for you. I’ll handle the rest.”

NO!” Luke exploded. His outburst caused you to jump as your heart stopped for a minute, before suddenly, cries filled the house.

“Great,” you murmured. “Just great. Can’t you ever control yourself?” Looking up, you threw your husband a glare, hands on your thighs.

Holding his hand out, Luke’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll take him,” he said, halting your efforts to stand up. You didn’t even fight him. You simply fell back on the couch again, sighing. Tiredness pulled on every nerve of your body—it felt so heavy, you had hardly any energy to even have this conversation, but you knew that you’d never have it, if not now.

Luke carefully picked up Finlay, cooing, and held him close to his chest with his hand rubbing his back as he tried to lull him back to sleep. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His tone was surprisingly soft and silent. “Daddy didn’t mean to wake you.” You felt the tears welling up as you listened to his voice. Somehow this triggered you, because you felt like you hadn’t heard him talk this lovingly for weeks now. Blinking a couple of times, you looked at him—really looked at him, your husband,—taking notice of his tired eyes, the scruff he hadn’t been shaving for at least 5 days. He looked just as exhausted as you, but you forced yourself not to feel any sympathy for him. This was all his own fault, you tried to tell yourself. You didn’t even know why he was so surprised by any of this. Shouldn’t he have seen this coming?

Slowly, as if you were going to bite him, should he come too close, he steps towards the couch and took the seat beside you. You used to love this sight of him—your husband scrawled out on the couch with your son resting on his chest as his big hands engulfed him completely. Maybe you still did. Who knew? (Your heart did, that’s who.)

You sat there in silence, both of you zoned out as thoughts swirled in your heads. He’s looking straight ahead, his hand mindlessly patting the small back of your baby, while you were sitting sideways with your knees pulled up to your chest, not even bothering to be subtle about staring at him. Then he said, “I will not sign these papers.” He spat the word like it burned his tongue, though his face was still turned away from you. The sight of the harsh line of his mouth cracked your chest.

“Luke—” you spoke, guilty but somehow also annoyed that this fight was about to start all over again, with the exception that you had to keep your voices down now that your son was paying attention. He was lying stomach to stomach on Luke, small fist stuffed in his mouth that was dribbling with spit as his eyes held yours curiously.

“No, listen to me,” he cut you off before you could say anything else. His head shifted in your direction, so you turned yours. You were tired of this. Oh so tired. You wanted this to be over—this constant pain that had settled at the bottom of your stomach, this sad cloud that had draped itself over you and basically every corner it fit in this house. Your heart couldn’t take any more of this and you despised having to make even more bad memories every second you spent fighting. “Sweetheart, please look at me. I need you to look at me.” The ice in his voice had thawed. A little, at least.

As you still refused to acknowledge him, you felt something poking your arm. You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Come on,” Luke said, though he was talking in the kind of voice he usually reserved for your son. “Come on,” he cooed again, “Tell mommy to pretty please look at daddy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again. Your grown husband was using your baby to get to you. And you would be lying, if you didn’t admit it kind of worked. Were you really to blame, though? His voice was so incredibly high and sweet as he pronounced words like a baby would. You hated and loved him for it. He’d always been the one to play dirty.

“Stop it,” you murmured, fighting to keep your stoic face from cracking. He made no move to halt his persuasion attempts. In fact, he only got more (adorably) annoying the longer you tried to ignore him. “Seriously,” you said, turning your head even further away from him as you could feel your lips curving into the tiniest of smiles, “stop using our son as a weapon. You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Yeah, but only because it works every time.” He poked you with your baby’s little hand again, but instead of pulling away, his tiny fingers fisted themselves in your sweater and pulled. “See? Even Finn thinks mommy should look at us. Don’t you, buddy? Aren’t you a good little boy, huh?”

“Stop talking to him like he’s a dog,” you snorted. “And I will look at him. Just not at you.” Shifting, you were leaning sideways against the couch again, gently prying Finlay’s finger from your sweater and letting him wrap them around yours instead. You made sure to continue to ignore Luke though.

You felt like your heart was going to explode any second now, what with the built up anger—like it was going to rip in two—but most of all, your heart also swelled with the love you felt for your husband and son. And you were so afraid. So very afraid of making a mistake. You might love your family with everything in you, but sometimes loving someone just wasn’t enough, and there was this small voice at the back of your mind, asking you, if maybe it was. Maybe it was enough, and maybe you were making a terrible mistake by choosing this way out. Maybe you were going to regret this decision. Your heart simply couldn’t take all of these feelings.

“Are you alright?” Luke asked. His hand enclosed around your foot. Finally lifting your head, you saw him looking at you—concern furrowing his brows. His other hand was still gently rubbing Finlay’s back, who was watching you, or rather your intertwined hands as you ran your thumb across the tiny back of his hand.

Despite everything—every scream and shout, every cold shoulder and stare—you managed to lift your lips into a tiny reassuring smile and nod. “I’m fine.”

Luke didn’t remove his touch on your foot, though. Diverting his gaze down, his mouth twitched. “I love you,” he spoke, connecting his eyes with yours again. “Do you still love me?”

Gulping, you raised your hand to the side of your jaw. You studied him for a while—his tired blue eyes, which you never dared to compare to the ocean, because the ocean terrified you, when, on the opposite, his eyes could always create a calm in you. And just like every time you gazed into his calming blues, you could feel the tension leaving your body. Your breathed out, letting your shoulders relax. And it was this—this tiny effect he had on you—that made you realise just how much he was a part of you. A part of your body and a part of your soul. You loved him so much that you were willing to let him go. Because you both deserved something more—more than what you had right now, and it was this sacrifice that showed how greatly you felt about this man. You opened your mouth, “I love you more than I should, Lucas,” you said.

His eyes hooded in sadness. “Can you—Can you just come here for a while? I really just want to hold you right now. Can I?” His eyes flickered up to meet yours again. There was desperation in them, a pained softness, a vulnerability.

Upon your tiniest nod, his hand moved up to your ankle and tugged on it, urging you to scoot closer to him and Finlay. There were tears building up. You pushed them back as you moved your body over to him. He let go of your ankle and instead lifted Finlay up, nodding for you to drape your legs across his. And when you did, you automatically leaned into his side. It was a reflex you couldn’t hold in. Luke set your son on your legs, so he was sitting sideways on them with him facing you. You could see that he was on the verge of falling back asleep. His fist was stuffed in his mouth as he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and they kept fluttering close.

You reached your hand up to run them through his hair and sweeping them to the side. At that, he blinked his eyes open again and smiled, before he faded back into dreamland. “I love you, baby bear,” you whispered, taking no notice of Luke, who was watching you with a smile sat on his lips.

It was hard to imagine that this was the man who had not even five minutes ago lost his temper and stood with ice clawing on his insides, because right now, there was none that. He was looking at you like he had on the day you exchanged rings—like you were the greatest creature in the world and he was the luckiest man to have you. And you were, and he was. Because you had gifted him with a child and that did make him the luckiest man. Indeed, he was so very grateful for his blessings as he sat there, admiring your beauty and love, and he asked himself how it had even come to this point. Honestly, he couldn’t remember. Just how it was with most fights—the actual reason gets pushed behind and suddenly, you were in a war without even knowing why. He was sick of it. He did not want this. He wanted to be able to sleep in his own bed again with your baby snoring in the same room. He wanted to wake up next to you snuggling Finlay. Most of all he wanted this dark cloud to pass and leave his home. Grabbing your hand, he filled the gaps of your fingers with his own and lifted it to leave a kiss on your knuckles. But he didn’t pull away afterwards, but rather held your intertwined hands against his cheek.

You sighed, trying to press yourself closer against his body. How was it that you could go to wanting to rip his head off to wanting to melt yourself in his embrace within moments? Did this mean you were meant to be? You couldn’t imagine not loving this man. Again, the weight of this decision settled on your shoulders. But then you decided to make it tomorrow. Tonight you would take your husband up to your bedroom and not let him leave.

Gentle reminder that in Tilt/Shift, since Ahsoka is the only one on Mortis with two lightsabers – and Qui-Gon doesn’t have his – she has to share.

And it’s really feelsy because AH lineage stuff. Lightsaber sharing. GETTING TO KNOW ONE ANOTHER.

Also, I wanted to kinda visually show myself the height difference between these two. I was honestly worried for a bit that it was exaggerated, but then I realized…it’s not. It’s not at all.

(Which makes this scene in the fic 10000x more better.)

Sorry for the shit coloring by the way, I just. Didn’t really care. I wanted to get the doodle out while it was still fresh in my mind

At least Ahsoka looks nice. Not…really sure….what happened to Qui-Gon there. But meh. Close enough.

I’ll likely make a cleaner version of this sometime, but until then! Here you are.

So yesterday I was asked why I so firmly Believe in CrissColfer, and my answer simply was, Chris Colfer.  So I thought this was a good time to revisit my thoughts on TLOS 4.  Some of these have been published before, with  my blessing, by @mleigh69.  But I had edited that and taken out my thoughts on a certain person.  The following is my unedited version that I wrote over the summer while chatting with another friend (I have taken her comments out).  There are major spoilers ahead and its just honest, so if you don’t want to hear what I have to say, move on and don’t read it.  Note this was a conversation, so its a little stream of conscience.  Also it was written when I was relatively knew to the fandom and when I had a very limited knowledge base.

I know I sound like a broken record, but if you love CC the way that I do and believe in them, and you haven’t already, read these books.Chris is screaming his truth.  I am thinking of re-reading prior to the release of TLOS5. Something tells me I will see so much more than I did before.

Keep reading


Hey guys! This is my new Jane and Lisbon video! I’ve been waiting MONTHS to make this video with this song,especially waiting for the final episode of season 7 so I could edit the video. You can see my struggle. 

I wanted to post this a day after to the finale. Unluckily, my parents renovated all my room so I couldn’t use the computer for more than a week :/ . 

I’ve seen other people have already posted their videos with the same song, and for a moment I thought there was no need to make one on my own, but as I said before, I’ve been waiting months for this so I said : 

What the hell, girl? Just do it!

So here it is. Just finished recently.

Hope you like it!

PS: If I have time, I’m thinking about making a tribute video, but it will take time to do it all. 

Dora Breckinridge on Reviewing, Editing, and Video Game Journalism

Dora has spent the last seven years reviewing video games and working as the head editor for indie website, which has been around since 2003 and focuses on only reviewing games that we genuinely enjoy and want to talk about. Before that, she managed a bakery, so, y'know, life is weird like that. JayisGames and its lovely, well-groomed freelance writers cover everything from freebie online and freeware games, to commercial indie releases, and console games by AAA industry developers, sustained by a community of wonderful readers.

Keep reading