over par

… okay so i definitely was going to animate dre under the lovely @cursetale‘s blessing and… then i couldn’t get Dreby outta my head so here we are

i’m totally working on Dre but man i just could not resist that face and those bunny ears are you kidding me

from this gorgeous chain from last week or so between cursetale and the also-fantastic @blesstale because just… hell yes. hell goddamn yes.

6

“I understand. I suppose you have no choice but to revolutionize the world.

The way before you has been prepared.”    
    

Last Chapter Update

Whoo. My week has been packed and I am very tired and ouchy. I also just spent the last hour and a half doing some major Home organizing and crunched  some numbers according to my plot outline:

There are 57 drawings remaining; 27 of those are absolutely essential and must be included in the last chapter. I just counted my drawings and I have 30 (almost 31!) finished.

Which brings us back to my original claim back in August that the last chapter would have 60 drawings (31+27 = close enough). The drawings that aren’t essential would be adorable and funny, but I think I will have to omit them since… Since I don’t want to post the last chapter in 2021.

Soooooo according to my calculations, since it takes me about 4 days (14-24 solid hours) to complete one drawing, it will take me 108 days to finish the last essential 27…. AKA, 3.5 months. Factoring in family dinners and other distractions, I’ll round up to four months. So…

New estimate: Chapter 18 will be posted in late June.

A few have already started proclaiming their disapproval/lost interest due to the time I’ve spent already. I really want you, my beautiful and kind readers, to know that it pains me dearly to delay the last chapter as long as I am, but I’m adamant about ending Home right. These drawings are very warm, colorful and detailed, and it will wrap up everything in the best, fuzziest, happiest way.

Thank you for your endless patience ♥

Hate To Love You

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, violence, blood, inury, bad blood between Reader and Bucky, mentions of breakup

Word Count: 1087

Summary: After you and Bucky breakup you can’t stand to be apart of the Avengers any longer, choosing instead to work for yourself. However when Steve asks for your help, telling you that there was no one else he could ask you agreed to one more mission. 

A/N: I’m re posting this from my old blog, so I’m going to keep the original tag post for part 2 but if you wanted to be added just let me know right HERE !!


“There isn’t anybody else?”
“Sorry y/n, Wanda’s still in Sokovia and I couldn’t get Nat back on such short notice.”
“It’s fine, not your fault Steve,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What time do we fly out?”
“Zero six hundred tomorrow,” He replied, the sound of relief hanging in his voice. “Thanks for this y/n, I owe you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”

I disconnected the call, feeling my shoulders slump as I leant back on the kitchen bench, already exhausted by the thought of tomorrow’s mission. It wasn’t so much the mission itself though, it would be nice to get back into doing what I’d trained for years to do, it would be nice seeing Steve again. However I was also one hundred percent sure that Bucky would also be assigned on the mission, hence why I had a blooming headache starting already.

It had been eight months since I’d last seen or spoken to him, eight months since we broke up in a fit of shouting, tears and thrown objects. It hadn’t been pleasant and as a result I’d walked straight out of the Avengers compound, fully intending to never ever go back. I had been determined back then to get out of that business completely, find an apartment in the city and go to a normal nine to five job like everybody else. However, once something was in your life it was hard to let it go, so I found myself doing odd freelancing jobs, sometimes even for Nick Fury if he asked.
I wasn’t at all surprised that he’d passed my new number onto Steve, telling him that I would be more than happy to help him out if he needed.

Pushing myself off the bench I moved to the kitchen cabinet, pulling down a glass and the bottle of whiskey I kept for occasions such as these. Uncapping the lid I poured two fingers into the glass, swallowing them down in only two mouthfuls, the amber liquid burning as it went down my throat. I looked up at the clock as I poured out a little more alcohol. Only seven hours to take off.

-

The sound of my boots on the tarmac seemed to magnify in the quiet morning, the fog still hanging low to the ground and the sun only barely peeking out in the horizon. I took a deep breath and watched as it misted out in front of me in the frigid morning air.

“Y/n!”
I spun around at the call of my name, my eyes landing on Steve, dressed up in his Captain America suit, the cap hanging off one of his wrists. He jogged the last feet between us, bringing me swiftly into his arms, lifting me up slightly off the ground.
“It’s so good to see you!” I said with a genuine smile, having only just realized how much I actually missed him. “Eight months hasn’t changed you a bit.”
He shrugged, releasing me from his grip and standing back, his eyes sweeping over my form.
“It’s changed you though,” He chuckled. “You look good y/n.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling the blush creep over my cheeks.

We were pulled from our short reunion as someone cleared their throat behind us, my eyes landing on Bucky, his jaw tense and tight.
“Mind if we move this along?” he glowered, his eyes barely sweeping over me as he turned his glare to Steve.
Steve looked like he was about to reply but I cut him off before he had the chance, my hand landing on my hip as I glared back at the soldier.
“Nice to know that hostility hasn’t left your personality James.”
“You bring it out in me,” He spat back, lips set in a thin line.

Without another word he pushed past us both, making sure that his shoulder bumped mine as he passed, the nudge causing me to stumble slightly. I glared venomously at the back of his head, my hands balling into fists at my side. At this very second the only thing I wanted to do was pull the glock from where it was resting on my side and shoot a nice hole through that metal shoulder of his.

Steve squeezed my shoulder, probably guessing my train of thought, the expression on his face filled with guilt.
“Sorry y/n,” He said. “I didn’t think he’d act quite like that.”
“What exactly were you expecting? It’s not like we ended our relationship on the best of terms,” Steve grimaced and I suddenly felt shitty for taking it out on him; he wasn’t the one acting like a total dick. “Honestly, it’s fine Steve, this is after all a job and no matter how we feel towards each other we might as well be professional about it.”

Keep reading

'squip squad' plays mini-golf

-everyone really likes those glow in the dark mini golf courses so everytime they mention mini golf; thry have to go to one.
-legit christine always wears vibrant colors so the girl glows.
-jenna and michael always wear black so no-one can see them.
-jake and brooke are REALLY good at mini golf and always end up beating everyone.
-chloe is really bad at golf. she always go over par.
-jenna loves the statues at the mini golf place.
-rich is pretty decent at it.
-michael and jeremy are good at mini golf, they just are really clumsy and trip over everything.
-the boyf riends always are holding hands while playing.
-once brooke fell and chloe ran across the rink to catch her (they fell on top of each other).
-rich once bent over to pick up his golf ball and jake went and aie thrusted forward right at richs ass and michael got a photo. jake hasn’t replaced his profile photo since.
-rich is such a good boyfriend, whenever jake gets a hole-in-one he cheers and kisses him like 6 times. he loves his sports playing boyfriend.
-i think that’s why jske always wants to go mini golfing.
-christine always dances to the music playing.
-they always go to an arcade afterwards.
-where everyone sees the competition between michael and jeremy (and sometimes rich) in a bunch of retro games.


hey! sorry for not getting any hc’s out lately, i’m in canada!! but i got this idea when i was playing mini golf yesterday:) i ended up tripping and getting scared at random sounds like 3 times and jumpong 4 feet in the air:)) (i’ll get another hc out tomorrow!)

Hate To Love You

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Breakups, hostility between reader and Bucky, nasty words, swearing, fighting, violence, blood, injuries 

Word Count: 1087

Summary: When you and Bucky broke up you swore you were done with that life, however when Steve rings asking for your help, telling you that there was no one else he could ask you agreed to one more mission. What could wrong? 

A/N: Feedback appreciated. 

Tagging: @turnmyheaphonesuprealloud @poemwriter98


“There isn’t anybody else?”
“Sorry y/n, Wanda’s still in Sokovia and I couldn’t get Nat back on such short notice.” 
“It’s fine, not your fault Steve,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What time do we fly out?” 
“Zero six hundred tomorrow,” He replied, the sound of relief hanging in his voice. “Thanks for this y/n, I owe you.” 
“Yeah, yeah.”

I disconnected the call, feeling my shoulders slump as I leant back on the kitchen bench, already exhausted by the thought of tomorrow’s mission. It wasn’t so much the mission itself though, it would be nice to get back into doing what I’d trained for years to do, it would be nice seeing Steve again. However I was also one hundred percent sure that Bucky would also be assigned on the mission, hence why I had a blooming headache starting already.

It had been eight months since I’d last seen or spoken to him, eight months since we broke up in a fit of shouting, tears and thrown objects. It hadn’t been pleasant and as a result I’d walked straight out of the Avengers compound, fully intending to never ever go back. I had been determined back then to get out of that business completely, find an apartment in the city and go to a normal nine to five job like everybody else. However, once something was in your life it was hard to let it go, so I found myself doing odd freelancing jobs, sometimes even for Nick Fury if he asked.
I wasn’t at all surprised that he’d passed my new number onto Steve, telling him that I would be more than happy to help him out if he needed.

Pushing myself off the bench I moved to the kitchen cabinet, pulling down a glass and the bottle of whiskey I kept for occasions such as these. Uncapping the lid I poured two fingers into the glass, swallowing them down in only two mouthfuls, the amber liquid burning as it went down my throat. I looked up at the clock as I poured out a little more alcohol. Only seven hours to take off.

-

The sound of my boots on the tarmac seemed to magnify in the quiet morning, the fog still hanging low to the ground and the sun only barely peeking out in the horizon. I took a deep breath and watched as it misted out in front of me in the frigid morning air.

“Y/n!”
I spun around at the call of my name, my eyes landing on Steve, dressed up in his Captain America suit, the cap hanging off one of his wrists. He jogged the last feet between us, bringing me swiftly into his arms, lifting me up slightly off the ground.
“It’s so good to see you!” I said with a genuine smile, having only just realized how much I actually missed him. “Eight months hasn’t changed you a bit.”
He shrugged, releasing me from his grip and standing back, his eyes sweeping over my form.
“It’s changed you though,” He chuckled. “You look good y/n.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling the blush creep over my cheeks.

Keep reading

apocalyptic-assassin  asked:

Hello there! I'm sorry if you've answered something like this before, but I'm 18 and going to be (hopefully) going to college this year and I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life (maybe something with the arts and gaming since I love drawing? But I'm not entirely sure and feel kind of hopeless...) So I wanted to ask, have you ever felt kind of lost or hopeless a bit when going into the field of voice acting, and when did you decide that this is what you wanted to do?

I can count at least 3 separate occasions over the course of my career where I seriously, legitimately doubted whether I was entering the right field for me - where I couldn’t really determine if I was simply hitting a wall that I needed to get over, or if I was only adamant on sticking to voiceover because at that point it was the only thing I had to my name and dropping it meant becoming a “nobody” who just plays videogames all the time.

Having friends I could talk to during these moments helped me feel less alone; having my mentor to voice my worries to helped immensely with hearing a voice besides my own. Perhaps ironically, deliberately keeping myself busy (with more voiceover roles, especially during my amateur years) helped to prevent me from dwelling for too long on those feelings of self-doubt, and challenged me either put up or shut up rather than spend more time complaining than doing.

In the end, I could never separate myself from this craft, because there was always something about it that caught my interest. For all the times I wanted to insult myself over a sub-par performance, there was that next project - that next character - that spurred me on, because “God, I want to voice them”. There were so many times when I knew in my head exactly how I wanted a character to sound, but couldn’t quite get the same result to come out vocally; that frustration drove me to continue until I could rather than simply quit.

I wish I could give you a catch-all piece of advice to help determine what path is best for you, but life doesn’t work that way. What I can do, though, is say this: if you find yourself unable to keep away from a certain hobby or profession, no matter how much it frustrates you, no matter how doubtful you may get at times… if your response to a negative outcome is to push yourself even harder and think “I’m better than this” rather than waving it off and deciding you didn’t care all that much anyway… then keep pursuing it.

If you enjoy it, keep pursuing it. If you power through the bad moments (and there will be plenty of them) because the good times feel incredible, keep pursuing it. But perhaps most importantly, try and view roadblocks as a chance to improve and refine your talents instead of immediately accepting them as a sign of failure. I came extremely close to quitting my job at Disneyland in the middle of training because it felt like I was way in over my head in terms of what was being demanded, but almost immediately after I convinced myself to stick through it to the end, the pieces ‘clicked’ together and I made massive strides forward in my comprehension of the job’s process in a short period of time

There are still times - even today - where I worry about if I might be falling back or ‘coasting’ instead of actively making sure my acting is on a path of constant improvement, but having confidence that I am capable in the meantime goes a long way to making it happen. You have to believe you can do it before you can convince others of the same thing, so even if you’re unsure whether something is a good fit for who you are, give it all the effort you can muster. That way, if you ever do decide you’re just not as interested in that hobby/career/industry as you thought you would be, you can safely move on from it without regretting the decision or questioning if you simply hadn’t tried hard enough; a job that frustrates you even at your best will never fulfill you as much as a job that motivates you even when at your worst.

                       |

Publié par amoyquechault.over-blog.com

Plus de 1000 euros… Voilà le prix du nouvel Iphone, téléphone sans doute remarquable de technologie (fruit du génie européen sans cesse tourné vers l'accomplissement de son rêve prométhéen diront sans doute certains, jamais avares de circonvolutions argutiques pour justifier toutes les saloperies modernes au nom de la Grèce antique…).. Grosso modo un Smig. Un prix prohibitif qui, en pleine prétendue époque de « crise » et « d'austérité », n'empêchera nullement son fulgurant succès et la rupture de stock programmée. Nous assisterons sans aucun doute aux habituelles files d'attentes vertigineuses devant les « Apple Store » encore clos, les foules se pressant, fébriles et haletantes, pour acquérir le précieux gadget. Des foules composées de gagnes-petits, de demis-pauvres, de sous-bourgeois, de prolos et de rmistes, les gens « qui ont les moyens » disposant de méthodes un peu moins dégradantes pour obtenir le dit appareil.

Cela est évidemment navrant. Mais si l'on se contente d'être navré, de dénoncer le « consumérisme », « la soumission au modes », la « colonisation de l'imaginaire par la marchandise »… on passe à côté du tragique de cet état de faits. Oui, bien sûr, c'est tout cela ! Mais ce n'est pas que cela. C'est au-delà de ça. L'Iphone, c'est désormais à la fois le rêve et la reconnaissance sociale. Emblème factice d'une réussite fictive, objet de désir d'un monde blasé. C'est une « nouveauté », c'est à dire « quelque chose qui se passe » dans des existences absolument prévisibles, routinières, mécaniques, ennuyeuses à en crever. C'est l'irruption, pendant un bref instant (avant que tout le monde possède le même), de la possibilité de se distinguer, de se différencier enfin. D'où l'importance de se précipiter, de se ruer, de faire toute une nuit la queue pour être dans les premiers à saisir le Graal… Ce qui compte ce n'est pas l'usage de l'appareil mais sa valeur symbolique. J'ai le dernier Iphone donc j'existe. Je suscite la curiosité, l'intérêt, voire l'envie. Jusqu'à la prochaine version. Si l'on était Freudien, on dirait que l'Iphone es un substitut phallique. Plus concrètement, on dira que l'acquisition du dernier Iphone est une petite perfusion d'excitation dans un quotidien qui ressemble de plus en plus à une sentence pénale, une condamnation définitive aux travaux forcés. L'Iphone fait partie des derniers stimuli qui agitent encore le corps sublacquant du monde occidental. L'homme de 2017, esclave d'un travail débilitant et absurde, embourbé dans des aventures sentimentales grotesques où la psychanalyse le dispute à l'hystérie, acculturé et drogué de toutes parts, émasculé de toute foi et de toute transcendance, se saisit de l'Iphone comme d'un ultime jouet gratifiant… Un hochet. Le doudou des morts-vivants.

@buckybabs tagged me to post the last few sentences I’ve written! (A Inkwyrm/EOS10 crossover lol)

“Robert. You look…terrible.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Horace.” Robert snapped, scowling at him through the grainy lines of the video call, “I look horrendous. I feel horrendous.”

Horrendous is an understatement. Robert looked like he hasn’t slept in a month. His eyes were red and there were dark purple bruises shadowing them. His hair was sticking up in permanent spikes. Horace could see the man’s skin was now grey and pallid, even over the sub-par reception their call is getting, and it looked like he’d lost weight. And last, but certainly not least, every so often his face spasmed in what Horace wants to diagnose as a stress response to…something.

“Good god,” Horace said faintly. “You really have made a mistake, haven’t you.”

I’m tagging @mochabisexual @espressonist @strixa @the-wonderful-jinx aaaand @cloro18
(Don’t feel like you have to do it!)

anonymous asked:

can we get some lavender x pavarti head cannons if you have the time?? :)

  • seventh year is rough and terrifying and even though they’re quick to join neville in fighting back, there’s still not much room for hope or joy
  • but parvati and lavender have each other and they have they’re system
  • only one of them can cry at a time. that’s the rule 
  • sometimes one obviously needs it more than the other
  • (like when the carrows forced parvati to hex her own sister, or when they locked lavender in a tiny dark closet for two days)
  • other times they have to take turns, willing themselves to stop crying for an hour so that the other can have a turn
  • it’s hard sometimes but it works. it keeps them from falling apart and helps their friendship grow stronger
  • one night parvati is in real bad shape and lavender has this brilliant idea
  • pretend nothing is wrong
  • absolutely nothing
  • it’s just another night during a completely average school year where their biggest concern is boys
  • “crying over boys is useless, par,” she says, her tone chipper. she brings out a brush and starts to run it through parvati’s hair. “boys are useless.” 
  • parvati sniffs. “i know what you’re doing lav, and denial won’t help.”
  • but lavender keeps up the charade and starts braiding parvati’s hair
  • “oh! you know what we should do!?” she puts a tie at the end of the plait and rushes to her bag and pulls out parchment and a quill. “we should make a list, of everything we want in a boy, everything we want in a relationship.” 
  • she holds out the parchment to parvati, who just sighs and relents. parvati takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes. “and we shouldn’t settle for anyone who doesn’t check off the whole list!” she says, trying to match lavender’s facade
  • lavender smiles, and goes to undo the braid, and re-braid it into pigtails
  • “okay, number one; must be gorgeous.” parvati starts, scribbling on the parchment.
  • “obviously. but not prettier than us.” 
  • “naturally.” parvati agrees. “hmm, number two; smarts.”
  • “definitely. they don’t have to be, like, a genius or anything-”
  • “-but they can’t be an idiot.”
  • lavender nods and the two switch places, lavender taking the quill and parchment and parvati doing lavender’s hair. 
  • “three!” lavender says. “has to be funny, or at least fun.” 
  • “we don’t need some dull lump of a guy just sitting around!”
  • “four; must be a good listener. i mean, we’ll have each other, of course, but i still don’t want to feel like he zones out when i start talking.”
  • “true. and sometimes you just want to talk to your partner, so he has to listen.” 
  • they continue into the night, painting each others nails and charming the quill to write it’s self, applying and reapplying and trading their make up, trying on nearly every piece of clothing in their wardrobes. 
  • “number forty-four,” parvati says, “has to smell nice.”
  • “merlin how did it take us this long to get to that one! of course he has to smell nice!”
  • there’s a pause as they both try to think of more requirements. the night, the reality starts to set in as the silence lingers and parvati fights back tears. 
  • “forty-five,” she says, her voice quivering. “he has to know that no matter what, you will always be my number one person.”
  • lavender drops the blouse she was holding and sits next to her best friend, wrapping an arm around her. “he has to know,” she adds, “that nothing will ever come between us, not even him.” 
  • after that they go back to facing reality, to dealing with the horrors of war and rebelling against their situation however they can
  • the list gets tucked away, forgotten in lieu of more important things
  • the war rages on
  • the final battle ends
  • they win but they’re not with out their scars
  • they slowly start to recover, leaning on each other more than ever
  • aware of what’s truly important in life
  • they spend all of their time together, working to open a divinations shop in diagon alley, working to help rebuild their world
  • they move into a flat together. there are two bedrooms but they always seem to end up falling sleep in each other’s bed anyway
  • there seems to be fewer and fewer boys coming around. fewer dates being gone on.
  • and then one day, as parvati is going through some old things and she comes across the list
  • and as she reads it tears come to her eyes. but this time it’s happy tears and she makes her way into lavender’s room
  • “number one,” she reads, taking lavender by surprise. “she must be gorgeous.”
  • lavender laughs. “oh i forgot all about that list! guess we’ve kind of been slacking on it.” 
  • parvati continues, unphased. “number two; she must be smart. number three; she has to be funny, she has to be fun.” 
  • lavender’s smile drops as she realizes that parvati is saying ‘she’, and not ‘he’
  • “number four; she must be a good listener. number five; she must be in touch with her feelings.”
  • lavender’s heart sinks before it swells and suddenly it’s all so clear
  • “number six; must also be in touch with her feminine side.” they both laugh a little, and lavender stands and walks toward parvati.
  • “number seven,” she says from memory, “must have a great sense of fashion.” she pulls the parchment down so that she can look parvati in the eye. “it’s you,” she says quietly
  • and parvati smiles and shakes her head, “no, this is you. it’s always been you.” 
  • and in a moment that neither of them knew they’d been waiting for for years, their lips slowly grow closer until they’re pressed together and goosebumps flood their skin as they reach for the other, holding on to each other as if there were about to drift away
  • it’s only romantic for so long until they both smile into it, laughing at how long it took them
  • “number twenty-eight,” parvati reads when they pull apart. “must know when to leave me alone.” 
  • lavender laughs. “you never know when to leave me alone.” 
  • “oh i know! i just never do,” parvati laughs, and pulls lavender back in for another kiss. 
My Snowflake

Alrighty! New imagine for you all! I hope you enjoy it ^.^ -Kennedy xx

Game nights at Jack’s house are always the best. There are always games scattered on the coffee table and stocks of food in the kitchen. Jack invites anyone he happens to see at the YouTube Space when he’s there recording a video and he usually invites you and your boyfriend, Ivan ( it’s pronounced ‘ee-vahn’ he reminds your friends when they pronounce it 'i-van’.)

This time is no different.

     You receive a text from both Jack and PJ. Jack’s text says something along the lines of “It’s your turn to bring the nachos, fuck-fart”. PJ’s is asking if you’re going to the game night and you text a confirmation back. He texts you a smiley face and you smile at it. PJ has been your friend for years now and, besides the awkward debacle where you told him you liked him and it hadn’t worked out, he was practically family. You never really got over your inane crush on him but Ivan had helped with pushing it aside.

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Maurice Flitcroft was not exactly what you’d call a seasoned golf professional. He was a 46-year-old crane operator from Northern England who had never once played a full 18-hole round of golf – he just happened to pick up a club one day and, after whacking a ball at some scraggly local field a few times, decided “Screw it, I’m a professional now.” So he entered the tournament, artfully dodging questions about his handicap and professional status by either lying or just not fucking answering. And that’s how the 1976 Open got all sorts of rough.

Clad in plastic shoes, a fishing hat, false teeth, and playing with an incomplete set of cheap mail-order clubs, Flitcroft took the tee amidst a sea of immaculately dressed pros with perfect swings. He attacked the ball like he’d heard that it would reveal his darkest secret if he didn’t kill it, and yet he barely got it off the tee. His ultimate score – a ridiculous 49-over-par 121 – is still the worst in tournament history, and no one has even come close to performing more badly. Immediately after he was done playing, they changed the rules so that Maurice Flitcroft, specifically, would never again be able to compete anywhere in the country.

Not that Maurice gave a single fuck. He had decided that he liked the game, lords and ladies be damned. For the next 20 years, he would attempt to enter the Open and several other competitions, using various plots that even Wile E. Coyote would deem impractical. What’s more, he succeeded.

5 Pro Athletes Who Are Hilariously Bad At Sports