rare encounter

Something I’ve run into quite a lot while doing the whole “project manager” thing is artist who are openly hostile to the idea of engaging with the “business side” of what they do. There’s this broad perception that that business side of art means advertising and merchandising and selling out, and while it certainly can mean that, a lot of it is much more basic - and it’s stuff that’s absolutely not optional if art is anything beyond a personal fun-time hobby for you.

Stuff like:

1. Having reality-based metrics for time and resource commitment - or, in plain English, making sure that what you’re charging for your commissions is actually based on how hard they are to do.

It’s downright shocking how rare this is. I’ve encountered digital artists who routinely charge less for a spec that takes them much longer to do based on purely abstract notions of how “complex” the piece is, without reference to their actual, demonstrable time commitment. Heck, I’ve run into a traditional artist who ended up making nickles per hour for a major commission because she hadn’t correctly tallied up the cost of the art supplies expended in producing it!

The only way to arrive at appropriate metrics is based on evidence; your off-the-cuff estimates will always, always be wrong. Literally time yourself as you work on pieces of various types, and write down how long it took you. And never assume that it will be quicker next time; that’s called the planning fallacy, and it will eat you alive if you let it.

2. Having a lifecycle management plan for the tools you need to work.

Tablets don’t last forever. Neither do computers. Even software can become so outdated and incompatible as to lose utility over time. Basically, your tools have a finite lifespan, and you need to have a plan for replacing them as needed.

I understand that many independent artists don’t have the means to save up for new and replacement tools, and rely on second-hand hardware, gifts from friends and family, or donation drives on their blogs to fill the gap. That’s fine - artists relying on patronage has a long and distinguished history. The important thing is that these avenues be part of a plan, not a desperate scramble after some 100% foreseeable circumstance has rendered you unable to work.

Data on average time-to-failure for your hardware is readily accessible online; if, for example, that particular brand of tablet tends to last about three years, then you need to start organising your donation drive or dropping hints for your birthday at two years and six months, even if your equipment seems perfectly fine. The same goes for software; the vendor’s support window (i.e., the time after which they’ll stop publishing bugfixes and security updates) for your version of the software is a known factor.

3.  Having a formal requirements-gathering and signoff procedure.

I know that sounds like a lot of boring paperwork, and to be honest it kind of is, but it’s also critical for anything you’re not drawing for yourself. Language is an imprecise medium; based on a few minutes of casual conversation, you can easily end up in situations where you and your commissioner have totally different understandings of what the job entails, yet you’re both convinced you’ve understood the other perfectly.

You should have a detailed written description of what’s involved, and your client’s explicit, documented confirmation that they’ve read, understood and agreed to it, before you draw a single stroke. This includes timelines and deliverables as well as content; I’ve run into numerous cases of clients who’ve alleged non-delivery of services based on their understanding that they’d be receiving a traditional, ink-and-paper piece where the artist understood the commission to involve only digital work, and more than one case where a client started hollering about breach of contract less than 24 hours after signing off because they honestly thought it would be done already.

You have to nip that in the bud; this level of documentation is a bare minimum for anyone who takes money to do art, not a nice-to-have.

7

HAHAHAHA that’s Sidon for ya! The man has the spirit of a thousand puppies!

It seems like Sidon becomes really EAGER when he see’s a hylian near by. I believe the reason has to be because of his first encounter with Link. Also, there’s barely any hylians who tour by the zora’s domain due to the obsessive rainy weather so it’s quite rare for Zoras to encounter Hylians.

Find the original screenshots here!: https://fishcakey.tumblr.com/post/159043658050

I think one of the things that bothers me the most about ace discourse is just…how new it is???

I’ve been involved in the online LGBT community for about seven years now - the Tumblr community for about as long. And yeah, I know that’s not a REALLY long time, but it’s still a fair bit more than a lot of people. And for as long as I can remember, asexuals have ALWAYS been accepted. There was a huge movement a few years back of “A is for Asexual” and pretty much everyone was on board with it!!!! The people who claimed that aces were cishet or privileged were such a small minority I rarely encountered them! I experienced a community that included aces, maybe not as prominently as other identities but still there, because we recognized that aces were affected by heteronormativity and a homophobic society in the same ways we were, and we gave them space with us because they belonged.

Which is why it’s so crazy to me that all of the sudden people are claiming that aces are not, were not, and never will be LGBT. Because trust me - this is not an attitude that has existed for more than a couple of years. Its no surprise to me that a whole lot of exclusionists are younger, or have only been active within the community for a short time.

Exclusionists keep trying to claim that asexuals were never a real part of the community and that they’re trying to “force their way into oppressed people’s spaces”. But that’s not what they’re really fighting against - the LGBT community on tumblr has turned into an extremely exclusive, hostile environment, where if you’re not Oppressed Enough or Enough Like Us, you’re going to be singled out and excluded from the community.

It was never about keeping people out of our community. It was about kicking out the people that were already there.

Enough Is Enough (addict!Sherlock x reader)

A/N: I thought of watching Sherlock today to get my inspiration back, and it worked!! Also I love the grey sweat pants on Sherlock, I don’t know why but I just do.

Warnings: Drugs, alcohol, fluff. And Mycroft. HAHA

You had been used to Sherlock’s quirks. Some of them happened on daily basis as others you encountered rarely enough to count them out. One of them was his drug addiction. You had witnessed it twice by now and it had been enough for you to form an opinion on your addicted partner. Yes, you called him your partner rather than boyfriend, it was the result of your conversation while you discussed your relationship status and even if it sounded like you were just as heartless and up tight as Mycroft Holmes it wasn’t true. You had always had mixed feelings for the word boyfriend, as you were an adult and so was Sherlock, so why call him that, when you could address him with something more appropriate. This of course didn’t surprise anyone, for they ha already wrapped their pretty little head around the fact that you and Sherlock were together and matched in a way no one could’ve ever imagined anyone to with Sherlock.

You didn’t complain about Sherlock’s drug use. You knew no one was a saint and he usually, or so he claimed to be, used when he needed. It was a bit obscure for someone to need to get high while working but Sherlock had always been different to say the least so you let it pass. Or tried to. Then there was the amount he had used at those previous times and you had to admit him being right those times. The amount had been so little you had suspected he had even taken all that for a case, but like always you let it go. But this time wasn’t the same.

You had stayed over the night at Baker Street, at Sherlock’s flat and just like every other time, you slept longer than Sherlock. You always had his word for sleeping next to him, but rarely did so, or had tried not to, knowing he wasn’t one to cuddle and even once fell off the bed when you had moved too close for his liking in his sleep. An argument had erupted from that as you had declined his suggestion of saying over the second time and sleeping with him in his bed. You had told him you could sleep on the couch, the night had closed in and Sherlock, wether he admits it or not, didn’t want you wondering about London alone in the nights after the ’study in pink’ cabby incident he had years ago. You told he you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by sleeping close to him to which he answered he had moved in his sleep, not being able to control his movements. You had given into his command on staying and sharing the bed, but had tried to keep still the whole night. Good thing you could control your body while sleeping if you really concentrated on it. Sherlock on the other hand had been clinging on you the whole night, trying to prove you he could let you get close to him, and as you were both adults you had another fight.

From there on you avoided even talking about sleep. When you did stay over longer than supposed to, you faked you had fallen asleep on the couch while Sherlock was distracted by work. It never took you too long to actually fall asleep, before Sherlock went to bed or after, it always depended how soon after you had drifted off he’d go to bed, but always he pulled a blanket over you before heading off to his room. Sometimes you could hear him grunt when he noticed you sleeping and you could tell he would’ve wanted to sleep with you at those nights, but you still kept this act up, until Sherlock came up by his own tactic to evade this problem. He started to take his work to his bed and since you were helping him and assisting you couldn’t deny him for doing so or even circle around his sly way of getting you to sleep next to him by nights. You didn’t last long on his comfy bed with all the papers and text you had to read in the dimly lit room, your eye lids growing heaving sooner when you did your work in his bedroom, but that didn’t stop him from doing so. He was only humored by your little game and you being too polite and plain bored of all this playing and games let it be.

Last night had been the same for you, you had fallen asleep after two hours of work, face first falling on the cushions, next to the papers you had just been trying to read and memorize. Sherlock had noticed your tiredness before your eyes started closing and he eyed you, humored by your tries to stay awake until you lost your inner battle and fell asleep. He always lay a duvet over your body,  pulling the blankets aside before getting to work with you since he knew you would drift off before him and now had no problem with tugging you in. And after an hour or two doing the same, laying next to you and pulling you close to him under the covers.

You woke up in an empty bed, the side next to you cold by now while you tried the empty space with your hand, patting the mattress. You heard sounds from the living room and kitchen area and were sure Sherlock was on to something. He didn’t make much noise, knowing you’d wake up if he was to make a racket, trying quietly go through the cabinets for clothes and what ever he would be needing. He had already had tea, Mrs. Hudson always made two cups for the both of you but hadn’t yet found out Sherlock was usually the one emptying the cups as you were still fast asleep.

You rolled on to your back, stretching your hands upwards to reach the ceiling and a pleasurable smirk spreading on your lips. There was nothing better than a good morning stretch and you were sure no one would be to disagree with that. Your legs and toes tensed and you tried to get the best of your morning work out, tossing and turning on the bed as you tried to get the stimulation to other parts in your body. The thin blanket around you wrapped around you when you rolled and when you went to get up you nearly fell. You had been now entirely tied up by the sheet, but able to pry it off of you you tossed the sheet on the bed in a bundle and scouted to pick your clothes from the floor. You always slept in a top or a shirt at Sherlock’s, not sure how he’d react if he’d find you topless next to him in the morning and not really looking forward to that you kept as much clothes on as you could. Now you pulled you pants and socks on and let your hands go through your hair. You gazed at the bed before opening the door. Right then Sherlock dashed by you, entering his room with a quick good morning and went through the papers you had studied just yesterday. You told him the same and went to the living room, taking comfortable position on his chair. You knew he didn’t mind you doing so, at least when he was leaving the apartment. You knew well enough from his hurried movement that he was on to something with his previous case and would leave the apartment in any second now.

You took the tea cup next to the chair that was companied with an empty one, yours half way through, but still warm enough for you to finish. You always enjoyed those mornings when you could just watch everyone else making a rush, hurrying to work and you could just sit by and look. Unfortunately the tea tasted plain for your liking, but you sipped all of it anyways. You wiggled your toes inside of your socks on the chair, the cool fabric trying to break through the clothes. You loved Sherlock’s chair. It looked nice and it felt soft and comfy. Pity you didn’t get to sit on it often.

Sherlock came from his room not looking towards you, his whole body covered in two sizes too big clothing. He had grey sweat pants and a dark blue hoodie, the hood being pulled over his shaggy hair when he hurried to the stairs and called for you, informing he’d go out now to work on a case to which you answered wishing him good luck. The door closed right behind him with a soft bang and the flat was filled with silence. You waited a second, then two trying to control yourself. You had seen him in those clothes before and it always made your stomach turn. Nothing good ever followed when he went out dressed like that and it made you sad and disturbed. You thought of calling Mycroft and asking him to send someone to keep an eye on his little brother but knew Sherlock would notice right away if someone would be to follow him. Also there was John, but you figured not to bother him so you decided to just wait it out.

The day went by slowly and you couldn’t help but keep thinking what Sherlock was doing right now. You hoped for the best and that he wouldn’t disappear for days or weeks on his mission. You would hate that to happen since you knew you wouldn’t hesitate to call someone on his ass if he’d be out longer than a day or so. He hadn’t mentioned how long he’d be out, maybe to evade you from questioning or he really didn’t know. This made your mind go nuts, making all these alternate future possibilities where he’d come home after a week or being found and brought to hospital or even worse. You shook your head at your imagination going wild and decided to do something that would take your mind off of Sherlock.

It had been about eight hours now that Sherlock had left and you started to get bored. He hadn’t asked you to wait for him so you were free to leave, but wishful thinking of him finding his way back home kept you there. Now you were second guessing your decision, but couldn’t leave just yet before eating. You had started to feel hungry, the last time you ate was three hours ago. You were just getting to the kitchen when you heard the front door open and shouting filling the flat. You went to the door that gave you a view of the hallway and the stairs and saw Sherlock and John.

”I told you I’m clean!” Sherlock shouted frustratedly waving his hands in the air. His hair was still a mess but his face had changed. There were circles under his eyes and he looked like he had been up the whole last night, then again you didn’t know had he been, but at the morning as much as you had seen him, which was not much, he had looked normal to you.

”You don’t look clean to me and I’m a bloody doctor!” John snapped back as he pulled the door close behind him with a loud bang. He eyed Sherlock with a nasty scowl and leaned close to him, trying to intimidate his taller friend who was not impressed by his though act, more humored than taken aback. ”I have told you countless of times not to do this to yourself, and I’m saying it again, STOP DOING THIS IT WON’T HELP YOU ACHIEVE ANYTHING!” His voice echoed in the staircase and you flinched at the sudden change of volume. Sherlock on the other hand didn’t move a muscle and glared at his friend. ”And I’ve said I haven’t taken anything!” He shouted in John’s face.

”Oh don’t pull that shit with me, Sherlock.” John mused, but his voice was deceiving. It was clear that he was far from amused by the situation at hand. He just used sarcasm often. He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Sherlock, trying to get glimpses of him that would give away how mush he had taken by now. Sherlock had covered himself well enough for it wasn’t evident what and how much he had taken, but that didn’t make John stop. ”You could’ve called me! You have any idea what it will be to explain to everyone how you almost ended up in the hospital for over dose?”

”That has happened before.” Sherlock muttered as if it changed anything. ”And who said you have to explain this to anyone? I haven’t taken anything and it was a misunderstanding. I am clear.” Sherlock stated calmly and headed up the stairs, John right behind him, yelling, ”I’m not covering up for you only because you claim to be clear! You should thank me for not calling Mycroft on your arse by now!”

You took a step away from the door, getting back to the kitchen. You waited for Sherlock and John to arrive to the living room and as they did John looked at you worriedly while Sherlock tried to play it cool. ”Oh, you’re still here, good, I were in a need of assistance.” Sherlock said and looked around, searching for something or he was to restless to keep up the eye contact and stay put. ”I’m leaving.” You announced and took you jacket that had been laying on the backside of John’s arm chair. You pulled it over yourself and passed through the two men without saying another word. You were fuming from rage. This was the last drop. John had stepped aside, his eyes wide and body tense as he sensed your silent rage, he was married for god’s sake and knew when a man was in trouble and this was it. Of course he would be the one explaining this to Sherlock after you had left.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea to get hammered after encountering your partner in that state, but you needed to clear your head so you went to a bar far from Baker Street just in case John would wonder around. You offered a shot and a big drink, with a one sip finishing the shot and hitting the bottom of it to the table. The drink you drank slower, sipping it slowly and trying to enjoy the taste but soon gave up on enjoying the drink and instead started ordering liquors that tasted bad but strong. You didn’t stay long, after three drinks you started to feel bad enough to leave the bar. You were alms home, but decided to avenge Sherlock’s way of ruining your day by calling a cab. You knew he weren’t there to see you get into the cab and would probably never know of it, but you felt good going behind his back and rebelling.

When you got home it was almost 11pm and you decided to go to bed, taking your shoes and jacket off, but leaving all the other clothes on for the lack of care. You would be undressing yourself in your sleep if needed to. Not even bothering on checking your phone or that did it even have any power left you let yourself fall face first on the bed, pulling the blanket over your body. You curl up and let tears fall over your cheeks as the alcohol has started to wear off. You felt bad for going drinking and for letting Sherlock get under your skin like that. You had known this would happen sooner or later, you’d seen it before and still here you are, crying. You would have probably hit yourself by now if weren’t too sleepy so you concentrated on trying to stop crying and try to get some rest.

You woke up early the next morning, your head felt dizzy but not too bad. Your stomach was also turning but you could handle it. You just needed a minute or two for it to calm down. Your body and mind protested against getting up just yet but you graved for your phone and when you finally found it from the pocket of your jacket you saw there were five missed calls and twelve messages. All the calls were from John, the text too. He apologized for you having to see Sherlock in that state and he asked how you were. On one of them he told you he had recommended Sherlock not to try contact with you since it wouldn’t end well for him or you. One of the messages had arrived an hour ago. There he asked were you okay and safely home, and to this you answered by informing him you were home and just woke up. He was relieved that you texted back, but then he opened up a conversation your were not ready for.

John texted you that he had indeed called Mycroft after you left yesterday, who had informed Sherlock that leaving his apartment wasn’t even an option for him since now some of Mycroft’s henchmen were keeping an eye on the flat twenty-four seven. He told you if you wanted to see Sherlock it would be up to you, letting you know he couldn’t get to you by himself if you didn’t count phones that is. You of course had no desire of seeing him which John understood but still tried to bend you to go over there, not necessarily today but soon. Sherlock would appreciate it he assured you. As your texting came to an end, John needing to get to work you received a message. From Sherlock this time. He asked were doing anything particular today to which you stated coldly, I’m not coming over. And put your phone away.

You didn’t intend to leave your house and you were already half way through it, when your phone informed you of a message. You looked at the screen and was from Mycroft. It said, Go visit him before he does something stupid, he’s becoming impossible to keep inside the house and I can’t have the press finding out he’s using again. you sighed at his way of not dancing around the problem and how he was always able to get you do what he wanted, and then another text message came from Mycroft. The car will be there in two minutes. You groaned. Why had he always need to be so pushy? You were thankful it was Sherlock you dated instead of Mycroft.

The car pulled over your house when the two minutes had passed and you had to admit that maybe Mycroft had problem with being in control of everything like Sherlock always suggested. You climbed in the car, greeting Mycroft’s little henchmen girl that was texting back to his boss of the trip over to the Baker Street. You didn’t bother by chatting with her as you knew well enough it would only irritate you or the girl wouldn’t even answer to half of your questions. When finally the ride was over the car left. You hesitated for awhile. You could maybe try and flee but as your thoughts went through your head you received a message. Don’t even think about it.

You sighed and went for the door, opening it and getting inside. You heard noise from upstairs and a familiar voice yelling, ”I’m still here as you know, but I will find a way out soon enough.” You shook your head and gazed about the lobby. It was dark and gloomy, you wanted so bad to just leave and not come back but you knew Mycroft wouldn’t have that. You had no choice but to do as he said, you taking the first step on the stairs as you answered to Sherlock with a loud voice, ”Good to know I didn’t come here for nothing.” And the living room upstairs grew silent. Soon Sherlock’s head peeked from the end of the stairs and he smiled at you. You walked up the stairs, keeping your distance even if he tried to bring you close to a hug.

”I’m here because your brother forced me to come. Don’t get any ideas.” You said and walked past him and sat on the long couch facing the fire place, the one you slept on at times. Sherlock followed you, but instead of sitting on his chair he sat next to you on the couch, close enough for your knees to touch. He was wearing his pajamas, purplish pants and a white shirt, his blue robe covering his arms which you were thankful of. You didn’t want to think how his arms looked like. You knew well enough there would be see through needle marks and even the thought made you sick to your stomach and to top it all you had been drinking last night.

”I would’ve appreciated it if you had stayed yesterday.” Sherlock said. ”I really needed your help with finishing the case.” He coldly explained. You could only see glimpses of him from yesterday every time you turned to look at him and it irritated you. He leaned closer and made you want to move further away from him, but didn’t. You knew he’d only grab onto you and pull you back to him if you did try to leave and there was Mycroft of course. You had to stay and try to solve this situation soon somehow if you wanted to get home before dark. You turned towards Sherlock. ”I couldn’t look at you when you were in that state.” You stated coldly.

”You have seen me in that state before.” Sherlock reminded, but earned a scowl from you and a scoff. You held your head high and snapped, ”You have never been in that deep. You’ve usually taken just a little or just smoked.” You narrowed your eyes. ”There is only enough I can take and you crossed it. I don’t need to bare everything just for your career.” This shut Sherlock up for a minute until he wondered out loud, ”You were worried about me?” You fixed your position and nodded your head. ”Well, I had never seen you in that deep.” You admitted. ”You went drinking.” He deduced. You hit his shoulder and glared at him. ”Yes, and who’s fault it that?” You asked and were sure Sherlock was about to tell you how he couldn’t care less for your pity on him and your emotions but instead looked down at his feet. The air got caught in your throat as you saw him regretting?

”I- I’m sorry, (Y/n).” And he turned to look at you, his eyes shining in the light that pooled into the living room from behind his back, from the window next to his desk. He pulled you to a hug and for a second you didn’t know what to do. Should you hug him back or just freeze? ”I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never want to do that for you.” Something in his words pinched your heart and you gripped the back of his robe, pulling him closer. ”Just please, stop doing that, Sherlock.” You whispered, about to start sobbing. ”I will, for you.” He whispered back. You held each other for a couple of minutes before Sherlock pulled away, he smirked at you and said, ”You still have to make yesterday up to me.” You pulled even further away from him and playfully narrowed your eyes at him, questioning him, ”Me?”

”Yes, you did take a cab at night even if I have specifically told you not to.” You didn’t even bother to ask him how he knew that so you just decided to roll your eyes at him. ”Also, I still need your help with the case.” He said and stood up, walking over to his desk and scooping up a pile of papers. You sat there and he came over to you, handing you the pile and going to take one for himself too, then heading towards his bedroom and calling for you, ”Come now.” You sighed. Here you go again. You’d have to stay at least over the night.

Feeling The Signs Rarely Encounter
  • Aries: Content
  • Taurus: Instability
  • Gemini: Exhaustion
  • Cancer: Apathy
  • Leo: Emptiness
  • Virgo: Calm
  • Libra: Abhorrence
  • Scorpio: Acceptance
  • Sagittarius: Intimidation
  • Capricorn: Satisfaction
  • Aquarius: Envy
  • Pisces: Inflexibility

geekhyena  asked:

Have you already done a breed overview of the Queensland Heeler/Blue Heeler? We had them growing up, and I'm quite fond of them, but we never learned a lot about them in my animal science classes as a breed (they're not super common in the Midwest). We lost one at age ~11 due to heart cancer, but I don't know if that's common for the breed or just bad luck.

Also @osteoarchivist said:

If you are so inclined, would you do a post on Australian Cattle Dogs? I have a 10 month old ACD mix (his father was a handsome stranger) and I’m curious what your take on the breed is. Love your write ups!!         

Two of you have asked about this actually Australian breed. It was absolutely on the list, there’s just a bit of a waiting list, that’s all.

Nobody really uses the term ‘Queensland Heeler’. They’re usually Blue Heelers, Red Heelers, or officially the Australian Cattle Dog.

These dogs are stubborn and in many cases they are more stubborn than their owners. They can be lovely, but they’re equally likely to be undisciplined, spoiled rule breakers with attitude. That’s what happens when you have a breed that’s highly intelligent, but also very willing to be lazy.

Originally posted by butter-and-simba

I kind of like ‘em. Wouldn’t trust them as far as I could throw them, but like them anyway.

The breed clubs are still very big on screening for hip dysplasia, and I think this is wise. Though it’s rare for me to encounter a Heeler with dysplastic hips, the dogs I see only ever seem to have hips that are great, or atrocious, and no inbetween. I don’t know why this is. While hip dysplasia is not as common as in certain other breeds, it’s still worth screening for.

They tend to reach old age reliably but many seem to have vision problems in their senior years. The bred is known for its cataracts, but I also seem to see them over represented among our diabetics. Whether this is genetic or environmental I cannot be sure. As a breed they will happily pack on a few extra kilos, and this can lead to pancreatitis, but I don’t think I can call that a genetic correlation.

There is reasonably extensive genetic testing for progressive retinal atrophy, and attempts are being made at removing deafness from the breed, though they do pop up occasionally.

I often see these dogs in their old age with arthritis, either secondary to cruciate rupture due to their active, energetic bursts, or ankylosing spondylosis of the spine, which seems more common in any individual dog that has spent a large percentage of its life jumping up onto things.

Oh, and while I haven’t personally encountered this too much, they have a reputation for giving themselves intestinal foreign bodies by eating objects that really shouldn’t have been able to be chewed up and eaten.

It should go without saying, but if you intend to own this breed please be smarter than the dog. They can be loyal and great friends, but they will also push boundaries and have a tendency to snap. It’s all too easy for someone to find themselves cooking steak for the dog’s dinner each night and ending up with a canine shaped more like a wombat and less like a working breed.

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anonymous asked:

hey so i have a character who's just disarmed someone and he need to somehow stop them from going anywhere - he doesnt particularly care if they die, but for plot reasons id prefer if they were just taken care of in a nonlethal way. if my character were to decide to break a leg or two to stop them from getting anywhere fast, how would he go about doing that? he isnt human, so strength probably wont be a problem but how would he go from standing close in front of them to breaking their leg/s?

Then, there’s a very real possibility he’s going to kill your character. The most efficient way, given the circumstances you’re providing, for him to make absolutely sure they’re not going anywhere would be to snuff them. It’s also safer. If they’ve just been engaged in a duel, using weapons that are designed to kill people, then it’s going to be a lot easier and safer, to simply finish the job, rather than to drop his guard, hope his opponent doesn’t use this opportunity to pull a hidden weapon, or try something futile and reckless, like dragging them both off a balcony. If your character does not care, then the smart thing, the safe thing, given the circumstances, is just to finish the job. It’s not to stop, give their foe one last chance to mess things up, while they screw around.

So, let’s step back from this for a second. Your characters operate under the restrictions you set for them. You define their personalities, what lines they will and won’t cross, and in general, who they are. That informs how they should respond to situations they encounter. With rare exceptions, they do not serve the plot in defiance of who they are. They should always be following their own identity and agenda. When that conflicts with the plot, you need to decide: Either move them elsewhere (rewriting scenes as necessary), completely change who they are (rewriting everything involving that character), or they win.

You have a character who wants to stop someone from going anywhere. They don’t care if their foe lives or dies. Death will make sure their foe doesn’t wander off, and it’s far more reliable than breaking a leg or severing the Achilles tendon. In those cases the defeated character could, potentially, drag themselves to help, and screw things up.

Unless your character has an actual, internal, reason to avoid killing their foe, you’ve just killed one of your characters. You made the choices that lead to this awhile back. This is the secondary or tertiary consequences of your character building, and the way you’ve positioned your characters. However, it’s a legitimate kill. It will affect your plot going forward.

Often times, saying, “this will mess up the plot,” isn’t really a reason not to do something when you’re originally drafting a piece. Later, in rewrites, where you’re multiplying work for yourself, then it’s a legitimate concern. But, when you’re writing a scene, and realize that one of your characters would flat out kill the person they’re fighting, saying, “no, I wanted that guy for later,” isn’t a good reason to walk back the kill at the final moment.

Depending on how creative you want to be, and how willing you are to mess with expectations, it’s entirely acceptable to kill off major characters this way. That said, you’re going to need to address the character’s death. If your story really isn’t set up to do that, then it’s entirely possible your killer doesn’t fit the tone of your work.

It’s also entirely acceptable to have a character that doesn’t want to kill people. If that’s the case, then you’re still looking at rewriting earlier material to suggest that’s the case (even if you don’t spell it out.) This is a legitimate character outlook. They’ll go to violence, but draw the line at executing their opponents. The problem with this is, depending on your setting, they’re probably dealing with foes who lack that qualm.

Having a situation where one of your characters needs to remove another from the story is a problem. When that character is willing to kill their obstacle, the problem is self-solving. As a writer, when you get to a moment like that and go, “this is a problem for me,” it’s usually a sign you need to reevaluate the situation you put your characters in, or where your story is headed.

-Starke

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BTS Reacts: Your Heroic Act

Request: I really like your reactions ❤️❤️ can you please do a BTS Reaction To You Saving Them From Getting Hit By A Car, thank you 

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to make this long, and you can actually see the progression of me getting carried away and then I wanted backstory and I’m really sort of sorry

Originally posted by rapdaegu

Seokjin (Jin)

A/N: tteok-bokki are stir-fried rice cakes. It’s a popular Korean street food.

Seokjin chewed happily, face mask shoved down past his chin, and chopsticks in hand. He made a deep, throatily noise of content and smiled into his Styrofoam bowl. “Wahhh, it’s been ages since I’ve hade tteok-beokki!” he exclaimed happily, mouth full of rice cake.

Seokjin went to take another bite from his bowl, but felt his arm being jerked roughly back, pulling him back a couple feet and jumped at the unexpected contact. The sound of a car horn blarring past ripped his attention from his snack back to his surroundings. He looked from the street filled with traffic to just behind him where you stood, chest heaving from adrenaline.

Your cheeks flushed with his gaze directly on you and your hands immediately left his forearm, cradling each other across your chest. “I-I’m sorry, it just kind of happened. I didn’t mean to pull you so hard,” you stammered, your gaze falling anywhere but the man standing before you. Your eyes fell on the splattered tteok-beokki now all over the cement in front of him and your cheeks reddened further. “I’m really sorry, I can buy you another, I swear.”

Seokjin ducked his head lower to catch your gaze and smiled sweetly when your wide eyes finally met his. “Really, don’t worry about it! You just saved my life! I should be the one buying you tteok-beokki. Come, let me get you some.”

Originally posted by cyyphr

Yoongi (Suga)

Headlights flew by as Yoongi waited for the light to turn, allowing him to safely cross the busy street. He stood, hands in his jacket, hood up and face mask protecting his identity. Being this close to the company building, there were always fans wondering about, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite member. Taking out his phone to send a quick message to Namjoon, he heard a faint ding he assumed to be the light signaling it’s change. Keeping his eyes trained to the light on his phone, he stepped out to cross the street.

“HEY! What are you, crazy?!”

Yoongi heard your shouting before he could see you, and felt himself be dragged back by a pair of unfamiliar hands. The feeling of being alone and of hands on his upper arm sent panic coursing through him from bad airport experiences as he immediately severed where your bodies touched, jerking away and turning to face you. His chest heaved from the adrenaline, as he took in your face, eyebrows screwed together in confusion.

Your breath hitched when you looked at his barely visible face, his eyes being the only thing giving him away. Those eyes. You knew those eyes well. Staring at you unknowingly for days on end until your mind was filled with only him, his lyrics, the deep timber of his voice.

Your mind ran a marathon in the 3 seconds of awkward silence that settled between you. You swallowed thickly. “Are you okay?” you managed out.

Yoongi’s cat-like eyes blinked at you as you watched his brain process what had just taken place. Finally, a small chuckle escaped through his face mask and you couldn’t help but smiling softly at the ground at the sound so close to you, something you had only heard through speakers that did the beautiful sound nothing justice.

“Thank you,” came the almost familiarity of his voice. His eyes crinkled in that tell-tale sign of his gummy smile and your heart soared. You bit your bottom lip to keep your smile from spreading too widely. 

“No problem,” you breathed and you could only hope the dark night was hiding your blush well. Your attention was brought back to your surroundings, people pushing past you to cross the street.

Yoongi turned to make his way across the street and only stopped briefly when he heard the small, uttered “Fighting!” only loud enough for him to hear. He smiled under his mask, and lifted a hand in a wave as he made his way across the street.

Originally posted by tbhobi

Hoseok (J-Hope)

Hoseok bobbed his head to the low bass that filtered through his headphones. He tapped the side of them, pausing the song and looking both ways before he trotted across the cross walk.

“J-HOPE!”

An unfamiliar, high-pitched voice screamed out his stage name before he met the sidewalk, and he immediately turned around to see a small group of girls crowded at the street corner he had just left, waving and smiling brightly. Hoseok smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

The group thankfully moved on, giggling and smiling to one another. Hoseok turned to finish crossing the street and a hand reached out to his collar, pulling him roughly to the sidewalk just as a refrigerated truck blared its horn as it sailed by.

Hoseok’s chest rose and fell as he looked from your concerned face back to the now busy street. “Did you just-”

“You should pay more attention,” you lightly scolded, brows furrowed. You hands came to your hips and you tilted your head.

“I- Yeah.” he laughed. “Thanks. A lot.” Hoseok looked down to the ground, steadying his racing heart. “Did that just happen? I almost died! That means you saved my life.” He looked up at you, and you couldn’t help the shy smile that now filled your lips.

“Really, it was nothing.” An embarrassed chuckle left your throat before you continued. “You should get going before someone else recognizes you, Mr. Bigshot.” A genuine smile took place of your shy one and you hoped last minute that the nickname didn’t offend him. You opened your mouth to try and take back your last comment, but his wide smile quieted your thoughts.

“Right. Thanks again. Seriously,” His wide smile gave way to his signature toothy grin and you had to bite your bottom lip to not return the smile in a fit of giggles. “That could have been so bad. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. But you sa-”

“Take care, J-Hope,” you smiled and gave a small bow before you made to turn away before you could mess up this rare encounter with one of your favorite idols. You were pleased that your heart wasn’t beating too loudly in your ears and hoping the blush that dusted your cheeks wasn’t too noticeable.

“Hoseok,” He stated, head moving to catch your gaze before you could turn away. “You can call me Hoseok, if you want.” His eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort, before that disarming smirk was aimed solely at you.

It had never ben so hard to breathe before. All you could hear was the sound of his voice, quickly being taken over by the blood rushing in your ears and you knew your face was as red as the chili pepper paste you had gone to get, the only reason you were actually out right now.

Your lips parted, an unconscious gesture to make breathing easier and you licked your dry lips. “Y-yeah,” you stammered out, another shy laugh leaving you as you pulled out your phone, the screen immediately lighting up to the picture of BTS at the BBMA’s recently. You coughed violently at the embarrassment that filled your chest and quickly covered your mouth while trying to pull up your contacts list.

Hoseok chuckled and held out his phone, bumping it with yours to exchange information. He watched as your information splayed across his screen. “(Y/N),” he tried the name out on his tongue and your giddiness replaced the overwhelming embarrassment that was there just before. You couldn’t help the smile plastered to your face.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/N),” Hoseok waved and turned to head in the direction you had just come from.

“Yeah,” you breathed. You looked around to the people closest to you, and your smile only widened. That just happened, you thought. That really just happened.

Originally posted by yoonseok

Namjoon (Rap Monster)

You sat quietly towards the front of the bus, phone resting in your hand as you stared out the dark window. You knew Seoul wasn’t the safest place at night, but you couldn’t sit still at home anymore. The silence was deafening and you craved for the mindless chatter of strangers to fill up your mind, to block out the unwanted thoughts. You were headed to Hongdae, to people watch, or window shop, you weren’t sure which yet.

You looked back to the only other soul on the bus, aside from the driver and watched as he concentrated solely on a small black notebook and pen in his hands. You watched as his brow furrowed, his lips moving with unsaid words.

You studied his handsome face, a strong set of brows and prominent lips with strangely colored hair, and you wondered idly if he was an idol. You focused your attention back to the black scenery outside and decided here was far enough. Your legs ached to move, to keep them busy. You reached up to pull the string to let the driver know to stop, but the only other passanger beat you to it, his tall frame and long arms easily reaching the string first.

The bus halted slowly and you made your way to stand, picking up your small backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. The other passanger walked past you, notebook still in his hand, and thanked the driver politely as he exited the bus.

You muttered a quick thank you as well and exited after him, watching the bus drive off. You watched as the handsome man made to cross the street, and chuckled as he stumbled lightly, dropping his notebook to the cement.

Your smile fell as you watched him bent down to pick it up, you eyes darting between him and an oncoming car that wasn’t slowing down. Panic filled your chest and your legs moved before you gave consent, closing the ten foot gap between you.

Your hand reached out and grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him roughly back as the car zoomed past. The man snapped his head to look at you, plump lips parted, his heavy panting making little clouds in the chilly night air.

“Thank you.”

His voice was much deeper than you expected. You swallowed thickly and you chastised yourself for the full 30 seconds it took you to respond.

“O-of course. No problem.” Your eyes fell to the ground and you had no idea why this complete stranger had so much of an effect on you. Sure, he was handsome, but you weren’t the type to fall for someone just for their looks. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes, but the dimpled smile that settled on his beautiful face caught you off guard. “You should be more careful,” you managed out.

A soft, deep chuckle left his lips. “You sound like Jin-hyung.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry, who?” Should I know who he was? you thought. The way he spoke his name so casually with you made you feel like you were already friends with the two, had known them for years. Your eyes scanned his face in the dim street light for any sign of recognition but none came.

The man’s eyes widened, a bit taken aback. “I’m really sorry, I thought you were a fan.” He tried hiding his flustered face, bowing deeply, glasses almost falling off when he came back up. “Thank you for saving me. I should go,” he said quickly, and turned to walk in the opposite direction he was headed before.

A fan? So he must be an idol, you thought. You smiled, glad to not be the only one flustered. Your eyes traced his quickly leaving silhouette and fell on the notebook still laying on the ground.

“Wait!” you called out, proud that your voice was steadier with distance between you. You walked over to the notebook, and picked it up, brushing off the rocks and dust that had gathered in the small amount of time.

You heard his footsteps approach behind you and turned, handing it to him. He took the small notebook in both hands, an apologetic yet dimpled smile on his lips. “Thank you, again. I owe you.”

“May I at least have your name?” you asked, your voice sounding a little more hopeful than you would like.

“Rap Monster,” he replied almost instantly and you shook your head.

“No, your real name,” you smiled and you couldn’t help the teasing toned laced with your words.

A deep, genuine chuckle rang in your ears and the sound was gone too soon. He smiled. “My name is Namjoon.”

Originally posted by jeonbase

Taehyung (V)

“Look how cute! Taehyung-ah, look!” you called out excitedly, pointing at the small puppies for sale. You knelt down and began to pet the closest one in the pin, Taehyung smiling adoringly at you. He stood beside you and leaned down picking up one of the puppies, hugging it close. The puppy began showering Taehyung in puppy kisses, and a laugh escaped his throat. You beamed up at him at the sound.

“Can I have her?” Taehyung smiled at the older woman, and nodded. She handed you a leash, collar and a small bag of puppy food. You bounced excitedly in your place beside him, cooing at the puppy.

You placed the collar and leash on the puppy and Taehyung set her down to walk beside you eagerly. You smiled down at the puppy, keeping the leash close while walking on the sidewalk.

“What should we call her?” You asked, staring in admiration at the puppy. Taehyung looked back to the puppy and smiled wide. Your eyes met for only a split second before the street in front of you catching your attention. You eyes widened as you grabbed Taehyung’s hand and harshly pulled him back just as a car tore by. The driver let out a string of curse words out his opened window but was muffled by the rush of blood in your ears. Adrenaline pumped through you almost painfully as you eyed Taehyung with concern.

A nervous laugh left his lips and you could tell he was trying to make light of the situation. He licked his lips. “Did you just save me?” He asked playfully. You pulled him into a tight embrace, arms locking above his neck, head resting against his solid chest.

“Just be careful, dork,” you breathed into his t-shirt. You could hear the pounding of his heart, as you willed yours to calm down.

Originally posted by chimtae

Jimin

“What are you saying?” you breathed. Tears streamed down your face, and you prayed that in the dark of the night, the street lamp hid your tears well. You watched as Jimin, eyes full sadness and pain, mouthed words that wouldn’t make sense to you, no matter how hard you tried to string them together.

“(Y/N), we can’t do this anymore,” he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “My company threatened my contract because I was hiding this relationship. They said if don’t get rid of my distraction, then I might not debut.”

You couldn’t help it. The tears fell from your face harder, sobs threatening to break through your lips. You shook your head, too many thoughts flooding your mind at once. He’s worked too hard for this. He’s sacrificed so much for this relationship that it’s hurting his dreams. You willed your voice to be steady.

“Okay.” It was a simple acknowledgement, but one word had your whole world crumbling. You had built a tower out of hope and future plans with the man standing in front of you, only for one support beam to be taken out from the bottom, your whole future collapsing with it.

Jimin looked away from you, eyes glassed over with tears. This was it. No fighting for the relationship, no harsh words of unkept promises. He swallowed thickly.

You watched as he backed away from you, stepping off the curb to cross the street back to the dorms. He sighed, running a hand through his newly dyed hair and turned around.

Through your muffled mind, you recognized the sound of a bicycle approaching fast, causing you to look away from Jimin just in time to react. You yanked his forearm back onto the curb, narrowly missing the path of the bicyclist.

He looked from you to the retreating form of the bike and sighed for what felt like the tenth time in your short meeting. “Thanks,” he muttered, sparing you one last glance before heading in the direction of the dorms, head hung low.

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

Jeongguk (Jungkook)

Oppa! Oppa, wait up!”

You heard the high shrills of screaming teenage girls before you could actually see them from your place on the corner of the bust stop, and were sure some poor idol was having a bad night. You looked over and eyed the edge of the crowd of the busy street filled with vendors and independent street shops.

Your brow furrowed when a tall frame brushed past the crowd and sprinted towards the safety of the open sidewalk, in your direction. His black face mask was pushed as far up as his chin would let it, hair a mess as if he had been wearing a hat and lost it in his struggle to leave.

You sighed and felt sorry for the boy, a strange pang of wanting nothing more than to protect him washed over you. You pushed the unwanted feeling down. You had no idea who he was, and certainly no reason to protect him. From his broad back and large muscles (that you definitely didn’t notice), he was more than capable of protecting himself.

The boy ran past you, head still looking back towards the crowd for any sign of being followed. Panic filled your chest has he stepped out onto the busy street and you immediately grabbed the back of his striped shirt and pulled him back to the sidewalk, yanking him as hard as you could behind the view of the brick building just as a group of teenagers emerged from the crowd.

They eyed you suspiciously, standing just beside the brick building near the bust stop. “He went that way,” and quickly pointed to an ally leading to another busy street in the opposite direction of you and the boy. The girls took of at a run down the ally, and when the coast was clear, you turned to see the boy leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

“Tough night?” you called. You almost thought the boy hadn’t heard you, giving no sign of answering until he bounced off the wall and aimed his gaze at you.

Wow. Okay, you thought. The boy was definitely attractive, his shy bunny-toothed smile only enhancing how cute he was.

“Thank you so much,” he muttered and gave a polite bow. He nervously scratched the back of his hand and looked at anything other than your face. “Just don’t mention to anyone you saw me. I’m not supposed to be out by myself.”

You laughed at that, how young it made him sound, and his smile faltered at the sound. You smiled genuinely at him. “Don’t worry. I’m not even sure who you are.”

He blushed furiously and the shy smile returned. “You should probably go. They’ll be back for murder when they realize I sent them on a wild goose chase.”

He laughed at this, a hearty sound that was every bit real, and pride blossomed in your chest at causing the sound. He bowed again, smile still on his face. “Thanks again.”

“No problem, kid,” you smiled.

Ninette Day 4 Ladybug x Miraculous Holder Nino

Some days, Nino felt guilty for looking forward to akuma attacks. The implications of Hawkmoth using someone’s pain to transform them into a weapon always turned his stomach, but akuma attacks meant seeing Ladybug. That almost made it worth it.

Of course, it was better when they saw each other outside of akuma attacks. During the occasional press conference or infrequent patrols, they could relax a little and talk without worrying that their miraculous would run out of time. While it was breathtaking to see Ladybug in action, it was even better to see her at rest and smiling beside him.

“It’s a nice night, isn’t it, Chat Noir?”

“It’s nicer when you’re here,” he answered with a small grin.

Ladybug chuckled. “Ready to go?”

“Whenever you are.”

They took off over the rooftops, scanning the streets for any sign of activity. So far, they hadn’t done more than break up a few petty crimes, but they always hoped to catch an akuma or some clue to Hawkmoth’s location. Tonight, they ran into several fans instead, and Ladybug paused to wave down to them.

He did the same, occasionally twirling his baton and showing off for the more enthusiastic groups. One of them must have sent a notice to the Ladyblog, because the longer they patrolled, the more people showed up along their path. Alya probably made an announcement, because they rarely encountered so many fans this late at night.

“Laydbug! Chat Noir!”

They stopped again to greet a particularly large group, Ladybug even dropping to the ground to sign something.

“Can we get some pictures of the two of you?”

“Sure,” Chat Noir answered as he landed beside her.

Ladybug grinned and posed beside him, the two of them moving just as in sync as they did in battle.

“Now kiss!” someone called from the back of the group.

“Oh, we’re not…” Ladybug blushed and shook her head. “We’re not dating.”

“But, aren’t you two partners?” a boy in the front of the crowd asked.

“We work together,” Chat Noir explained. “We aren’t in a relationship.” As much as he regretted it. Ladybug was brilliant and dynamic and amazing. He could hardly imagine a better girlfriend, but despite his occasional flirting, she never seemed particularly interested.

They weren’t sure where the chant began, but it spread through the crowd in an instant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” In seconds, everyone had joined in, and Ladybug took a step back, clearly uncomfortable.

Chat Noir reached out to touch her shoulder. “I have an idea. Mind if I take the lead?”

“Okay,” she murmured, still tense, but willing to trust him to defuse the situation.

“Just one, right?” Chat Noir asked the crowd.

They cheered back a resounding yes.

“Okay, great.” He scooped up her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “One kiss.”

She laughed, and the sound rang through him like sunlight in winter.

The crowd protested, but he slipped an arm around her waist and planted his baton beside them. “You never said where!” He raised them back up to the roof and jumped back to set her beside him.

She smiled and leaned over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Chat Noir.”

“Anytime, LB.”

anonymous asked:

Would you ever be fwb with your last ex?

I actually considered whether it was ever going to be possible to go down that route, in the distant future, because our chemistry was rare, but a recent encounter made me realise that it wouldn’t be wise. Way too many emotions attached and nothing has changed, so it wouldn’t be worth the drama that would follow afterwards. Plus soul ties are very real & I’m not trying to feel like that again.

Photograph by @paulnicklen taken while #onassignment for @natgeo. A rare encounter with a Kermode Bear (aka Spirit Bear) in the Great Bear Rainforest of British Columbia, BC. Please stay tuned for more and #follow me on @paulnicklen to see more images from this experience with a friendly bear that I will never forget. #beauty #nature #keepexploring #letsexplore #love #instagood #photooftheday #picoftheday by natgeo