so many sob

2

i drew this like two months ago and i post it on my twitter but i didn’t wanted to post it here yet because i wanted to design hunk!,sadly my tablet broke so i don’t think i’ll doing it for the moment.
this are the design for my vampire hunters au! (is a klance au).

if you want to know more about this au, i wrote here  and here a little of the role of each character.

also i drew some klance nsfw-ish about this

6

  « It simply isn’t an adventure worth telling if there aren’t any dragons »  - J.R.R. Tolkien

can you believe that jake peralta literally told his fiancée he’d marry her in a dumpster because he loves her so much and the location of their wedding doesn’t matter to him at all?? jake peralta, who started out the show as someone who thought that he didn’t have any real family, who was ridiculously uncomfortable with emotions, who was convinced he’d end up alone–that jake peralta. the very same. look at him now! my boy’s in such a happier place than he used to be, and not just romantically. he’s adopted the squad as his family, he communicates his feelings and affection with ease, he’s getting married in six months and isn’t panicked at all–he’s got the most amazing character growth i’ve ever seen and i’m so glad that he’s here to show us that it does get better.

anonymous asked:

okay but the worst thing about obi-wan having ewan's singing voice is... how would he know? The jedi don't seem likely to engage in frivolous things like lullabies or singing - maybe the republic itself doesn't do music! I mean, their idea of opera is giant space bubbles! So obes has never sung before in his life until he's off to tattoonie with fussy baby luke and a woman on a ship starts singing a lullaby to quiet him and obes picks it up and BAM ewan voice, while the lady sits back like daamn

OH MY GOD OK, I have a LOT of feelings about Obi-Wan and Baby Luke on that initial trip to Tatooine. Like…how long did it take? Did they have to take the equivalent of Space Bus transportation so as not to arouse suspicion? How the hell did Obi-Wan hold it together?

This combined with the above is killing me. Poor Broken Obi-Wan and teeny newborn Luke. They are all the other has right now, and Obi-Wan knows next to nothing about newborns (even if he has met tiny kids at the Temple before, they’re not day-old babies which are a WHOLE different world.) 

And Luke is SUPER hungry and he hasn’t been sleeping and he’s really, really, fussy. And Obi-Wan is exhausted and traumatized, and worried all this crying is going to attract attention. And then Obi-Wan notices some mother on the Space Bus sing-songily calming her baby and he’s like…well, maybe I can try that. I’ve heard people singing before on various planets. He knows some traditional Mandalorian songs, maybe. 

And so he tries it. And he sounds like Obi-Wan McGregor. And Baby Luke is like 😲 followed by 😴. 

Luke always likes hearing people sing after that. He’s not entirely sure why, but it’s always been soothing. 

A man enters an office supply store. He was a mere mortal seconds before, but as he passes through the door he becomes a customer. His superior gaze drifts across his domain and settles on the cashier. 

“Do you sell stamps?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say,” However-”

“I want one.”

However, we sell them only in sets of ten.”

“But I want one.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I can’t sell you a single stamp.”

“Can’t you just…” He (skillfully) mimicks the act of ripping apart paper. 

Clearly, I have never thought of this. My simple mind grapples with the idea. I realize I am dealing with a genius, and yet, I regretfully inform him, “Sorry. They come on stickersheets, and anyways, the barcode–”

“Well that’s just rubbish,” he informs me. He is right. I realize this now. His genius ignites a spark within me. 

“You are right,” I tell him as I take fifteen sheets of stamps into my hands and begin to tear them apart. I type 0,019 stamps and press a non-existent key on the register. I hold out a quarter of a stamp to the customer (with a smile), but he shakes his head (without a smile). I rip apart all the stamps I can find, desperate to please him, for he has gifted this humble store with his presence. From the pieces, I begin to assemble a perfect, custom-made stamp. It is worth exactly 66,66€. I single-handedly reprogramme not only my cash desk, but the entire system. It can now scan any stamp in (or out of) existence. It is raining stamps. I am smiling.

Two hours later, it is done. Beaming, and covered in the torn remains of hundreds of unfortunate stamps, I hold the perfect stamp out to The Customer. He accepts it. I rejoice. It might just be my high fever and blurry gaze, but I think the right corner of his mouth moved upwards for exactly half a second. I am blessed. 

He licks the stamp and slaps it onto a letter. He wants to lend a pen. I lend him a pen. When he is done, he holds the letter out to me expectantly. He does not say a word, my silent angel, but I can tell what he wants. Thus is our connection. There is nothing, I assure you, nothing I would have rather done than to accept his letter, on my knees, with tears of gratitude streaming down my cheeks… But alas: 

“I want to send the letter,” my dear customer finally says, after the silence has stretched into infinity and back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir,” I say with a polite smile, brushing stamps off my shoulders, “We don’t accept mail. We only sell stamps.” 

After all, you can’t make exceptions to a well-established rule in the workplace. 

The customer doesn’t bat an eyelash. “That’s okay,” he says with a disarming smile. “I wouldn’t ask the impossible of you.” 

As he turns to walk away, a single tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it off with a stamp that wears his majestic face, hand-stitched by me. 

I don’t tell him there’s a mailbox around the corner.

(That’s not my job.) 

im crying just thinking about all the times alec and magnus have woken up together though. like imagine the sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the curtains drowning them both in a soft yellow glow and alec squints at first at the sudden brightness of the room but then his eyes adjust and he turns his head slightly to see magnus pouting a bit and trying to bury himself further under the duvet in hopes to block the light out. and alec just laughs slightly under his breath and moves closer catching hold of magnus’ hand which was resting between them and magnus let’s out a content sigh and looks up at alec with a soft smile and sleepy eyes and alec can feel his heart flutter and he smiles back whispering a raspy “morning” to which magnus replies by lazily kissing him, a quiet “good morning” murmured against alec’s lips and they both just lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other’s arms until magnus tells his boyfriend who’s drifting off to sleep again that he needs to get up and instantly feels himself being pulled closer, just about managing to catch the “five more minutes” alec mumbled against magnus’ neck as he plants soft kisses there and of course five minutes turns into ten but neither of them care when they’re both so wrapped up in the warm little paradise they’ve created together to even notice the world outside of them

“Jean Meowljan had never loved anything. For twenty-five years he had been alone in the world. He had never been a father, husband, lover, or furriend…the tender emotions of his youth, if he had any, had been lost in oblivion.

When he saw Clawsette and rescued her, he felt his heart move again. Everything within him, all feeling and affection, was roused and poured onto this kitten.”

Classicat #11: Jean Meowljan and Clawsette (with her doll Catherine), from Les Meowserables by Victor Mewgo

In the book there’s a scene where Meowljan and Clawsette are making their way towards Pawris on foot when Clawsette gets tired. She doesn’t complain, but Meowljan notices anyway. So he carries her the rest of the way (she weighs nothing to him because of his Convict Strength) while she sleeps on his shoulder.