subtle tones

10

Where the Eagles Live in Vienna

The scenery of the house also makes sky and stars visible on this residence designed by WILLL Architektur. The inconspicuous form, embedded into the landscape, overlooks a one hundred and fifty kilometre panoramic view.

Through subtle gestures, dark tones from the exterior walls unfold into the landscape. There is direct connection between the permeable nature of the interior space, and what lies outside. A proportional interplay between transparent elements and weighted cantilever, all contribute towards a composed whole. Given the surroundings, glazed incisions cut into the form provide individually considered framed views across the landscape.

Follow the Source Link for images sources and more information.

The importance of tone in GOTG Vol. 2

Tone : the general character or attitude of a place, piece of writing, situation, etc.

We’ve all seen movies or read books that get their tone wrong.  They feel subtly off or wrong somehow.  Do it wrong, and every twist or revelation in your story feel wrong too, straining the audience’s disbelief.  Done correctly, manipulations of tone are barely perceptible but absolutely necessary to support dramatic character arcs.

One of my favorite parts of the movie was its subtle manipulation in tone, particularly in the second act.

Spoilerfic meta below

Keep reading

Ask Me.[Newt Scamander Oneshot].

why do i love romance so much

Originally posted by karlmordo

Title: Ask Me.
Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader.
Words: 2,700.
Rating: T. (Mildly suggestive content.)


If you focused your hands in the correct position, you could almost feel the ghosts of the white scars that lined on his torso. Slowly healed reminders to Newt, that despite all the goodness and kindness in the world, there was always going to be a counter balanced reaction. In this very delicate case, it was put in the situation of his creatures, his naturally kind hearted nature and the injuries he may have gotten when trying to gain their trust. You could hear his voice inside of your mind, echoing, ‘They’ve never been dangerous. I was, and still am utterly willing to prove people wrong’.

You supposed that it was his gentleness and graciously loving attitude towards his passions that made you fall in love in the first place. Typically, his actions reflected his personality, especially in moments of bliss like the one you found yourself tangled in.

His hands were entwined deeply in your hair, and with nervous fingers, he’d twist a piece between them and hum more to himself as he craned his head down for another kiss. Not allowing such satisfaction, your playful side rose as you pecked his nose lightly. Newt hovered still, his full lips curling on the sides into that infamous half-grin. Newt surely made you question whether or not he was aware that his appearance had such an altering effect on you, because occasionally he acted the part, where as other times he found himself rather clueless.

Right now was a memory of the latter.

The look on his face nearly shouted at you, ‘So, you want to play games?’ Raising yourself against him with your hands flat against your chest, your lips grazed against his to answer him silently. Dropping his hands, Newt cupped your cheeks and allowed his fingers to slip across your smooth skin. A shudder of appreciation reached down his spine, or better yet, a shiver of anticipation of the unknown. Heavily dilated eyes caught hold of yours while his fingers continued a journey downwards now resting gently on your shoulders.

It was there that he paused to hesitate. Dropping his head to avoid eye contact so you couldn’t catch onto his contemplation, he stared at your right shoulder, almost admiring the way that the dim light of your hallway was illuminating your skin. Giving it the appearance of being on fire, he thought to himself. And the strange wonderment rose in his mind, crashing like a wave. If he were to touch you now, would your skin be hot like the blaze he imagined? Or would it be like a chilled fire, cold and eager to be warmed?

The dress that was so beautifully sculpted to fit you was non-existent there and left your skin free for all to see, and for him to touch. And in all honesty, such a naked piece of body had been begging to be touched all evening. And when he said all, he meant, all evening. Since the sun went down, to this second in your hallway. Newt stood pinned against your body and the wall and lifted his eyes. You had been hinting all evening, his mouth tilted upwards, that you wanted this so why would he be one to deny it when it was so close? He finally figured out your game, and to say that he was proud of himself for catching on would be an absolute understatement.

“There are quite a few names to which I could call you right now,” He whispered, pressing his mouth against your ear, “Let me think…” The rush of his fingers now touching your bare skin rose goosebumps onto your arms and through your body. Even if it were chaste and inexperienced, you wouldn’t have it any other way or with anyone else. “Seductress,” He began, relying on the depth of his voice rather than the actual volume, “Or are you a temptress? Are they the same thing, or is there a difference? Of course-” His hands rose from your skin before pattering back down on your back, where the dress too, left little to be imagined. It dipped far, resting to stop on the small of your back. He didn’t allow his curious fingers to dive any lower than the base of your neck though. That’s where they rested, and that’s where they would tickle you. “Seducing and tempting are very similar, but not the same. To seduce is to be… Well, pulled into a sexual act, isn’t it? Whereas, one would use the word ‘tempt’ in a more subtle, gentler tone.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you vaguely questioned where this sudden burst of confidence came from as his voice tuned down your hallway, echoing off the plaster walls. You had thought, for at least a minute that maybe he was turning this into a lesson, into a lecture like he did when put into nervous situations. He’d begin blundering, finding a way out without actually confronting the situation he was put in front of. But, after giving it a good hard think, you deduced that it couldn’t have been that. The way that he was speaking to you, so huskily, the way his hands were raking along bits of your body that he hadn’t actually seen before, were telltale signs that this was something else. This was slacked confidence, raw emotion and genuine sex appeal. A side of Newt that you didn’t even know existed was getting clearer and clearer the more he allowed himself to build up in self-awareness.

“Allow me to ask…” Newt swallowed, kissing the shell of your ear, “Am I seducing, or am I tempting?” He pushed his head back and gazed down at you. Through the very little light you were getting, you could see a bit his beautiful eye color. “I know what you are, or at the very least, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“May I ask what you think that is?”

Newt gave you a small grin, pecking your lips before uttering against them, “You’re being a big flirt who’s denying me the simplest of pleasures, like an actual kiss.”

“Why give you the pleasure of such when you’re the one so blantly seducing me?” Your tone of voice dropped as you attempted to stay in control.

“Me?” He questioned. Heat burned on the tips of his ears, down his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose at your accusation. “I’m not one to seduce, and you know that.”

“Don’t lie.” You snickered, “At the very least-” You mocked him, “You’re building yourself to be a small bit tempting.”

“Never.” He shook his head in playful denial, his beautifully ashy hair bouncing along with the movement. You found yourself entranced for a second at his unspoken beauty. “I would never do such a thing to you.”

“Lies.” You ran your hands up his chest to rest them on his shoulders. Newt licked his bottom lip at the sensation of your hands running along his body, even if he was fully clothed in front of you. That was something he’d never get used to. The meager brush of your hands, and what they would do to him in moments like this constantly amazed him. “You’re tempting. Standing there, looking amazingly beautiful…” His eyebrows raised at your choice of words, “Oh excuse me-” You spoke sarcastically, “Did I say beautiful? I meant handsome.”

“I’d have been okay with beautiful.” Newt laughed quietly. Keeping one hand rested on the back of your neck, he swooped his right hand forward and put it under your chin. There, he propped your head up so he could properly look down at you.

“I was going to use pretty.” Your expression was smug, teasing and a bit flirtatious. He could see the latter, especially in the little glint behind your eyes.

“I’d have been alright with pretty as well,” His voice dropped once again as he looked at you lovingly. “But, I’d prefer to call you that.”

“I hope you don’t just like me because I’m pretty.” You pouted. Newt shook his head once again with a small cackle. Keeping the position of his hands, he pushed himself off the wall, successfully moving you back so you were now pinned between the wall behind you and his body.

“I love you because you understand me, which I had been looking for. And, honestly. I had lost hope. I was ready to marry Pickett, because I thought only he would understand my blabbering.” Newt joked, the hand under your chin now dropped to dance down your neck before caress your sternum. “Imagine that, Pickett Scamander. Sounds pretty awful to me.”

“Who’s to say I want to marry you?” He raised his brows once again, only this time in a way that said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ Newt was right to react in such a way, though your question once more of a tease than to be taken literally.

“Who’s to say I’ll ever ask?” He replied rather smoothly, his eyebrows still skeptical. “Unless you, my love, intend to tie me up and make me, you can’t assure that I ever will pop that question.”

“I actually expected it tonight.” You admitted, “Queenie may have let it slip that you were planning it-”

“Wait, wait-” Newt panicked, feeling his heart drop into his stomach at the sound of your statement.

“She also told me that Niffler stole the ring? Did you ever find it? Oh goodness, I hope you found it.”

“Of course I found it.” Newt scrambled slightly to rest one of his hands on his coat pocket, where the ring was lying snug.

Silence spilled between the two of you as he stood awkwardly in front of you. Mentally, he was cursing at Queenie for letting the cat out of the bag like this, but then again, she probably didn’t mean to. She rarely thinks before spilling out things like this. Getting vicious at her was going to do Newt no good right now. He drew a deep breath in, prepared to take on the accidental mishap with as much grace as he could.

“I was just kiddin’,” You popped your mouth and looked at your love in front of you, “Queenie didn’t… She didn’t tell me anything… I— was just playing around with you…”

He stopped moving altogether, and his breath hitched in his throat. It was coming to him now, the smack in the face of intense realization. “You didn’t….” You shook your head no, an obvious expression of guilt washing onto your face as you stared at him. “Oh, no…”

“I mean, now I do, and I know Niffler did steal the ring so…” Your voice cracked. “Surprise.”

“I was going to ask,” He said quickly and looked off to the side, “I just, couldn’t find the moment to do it? I mean, dinner, wouldn’t that be a cliché? I’m not a fan of doing it in such a way, I want you to remember it. I don’t want your engagement story to be a copycat of so many others.” He began speaking a bit faster, tears pricking at the back of his eyelids, “So, I thought, maybe on the walk home? But, I caught myself staring at you and before I knew it, you had lead me home, and then this, and now, and I thought maybe I could stave until the morning and perhaps… I don’t know, surprising you with a ring at breakfast? But, is that too cliche as well? I don’t know.

“Then last night, I nearly had a heart attack when I had misplaced the ring… what an irresponsible thing to have happened…” He rubbed his forehead, “I had left it sitting on my desk, and left for a moment, only a moment and when I came back it was gone. I went into an absolute frenzy. I should have figured it was Niffler, that little bugger… So obsessed with shiny things. He had taken it, and if I was bloody thinking, I’d have checked him first before throwing my case into a mess for two hours…

“And now, I’ve gone and ruined one of the biggest surprises of your entire life, because I couldn’t understand that you were only joking around. I ruined it…” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, plucking out a small velvet box, “This was meant to be something special, not some night of-of…”

“Newt.” You spoke quietly, contradicting his frantic voice. Reaching up with your right hand, you put it onto of his. “Shhh…”

“But, I…”

“You didn’t ruin it, it just…” You puffed, “Didn’t go as planned. That’s okay…” He swallowed quietly and balled his hand into a fist around the small box in his hand. “Any moment you asked me would have been special. I’m positive I’d have remembered it for the rest of my life, just like how I’m going to remember this…” You laughed quietly and clasped your hands around his, “I mean, you still get to ask… If you still want to…”

“I do…” Newt looked at his hand, “How do you want me to? I guess, at this point it doesn’t matter, does it…?”

You thought for a second and smiled lovingly, “Do it the way you want.”

He took a deep breath in and nodded, dropping to his knee without a second thought. Despite his attempt to remain cool and situated, his mind was racing. Of course before hand, he had mentally written a letter, things he was going to say to you but now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t find where he had stored it. Newt was left speechless. He kissed your knuckles slowly, looking up at you as you pulled your hand away from his balled fist so he could open the velvet box. It was smooth under his fingertips, alarmingly so that Newt actually found himself shaking in an attempt to open it as quickly as possible.

“I never imagined myself to be the type to marry, simply because for years, I was seemingly married to creatures and to finishing my book…” Newt told you, “Maybe love was for some, and never for me. I didn’t need it, until I met you… Everything changed then…”

His voice was breaking with emotions as he stared down at the ring, “I can’t give you much, other than a case full of creatures, an old scarf, a few bow-ties and magic spells and maybe a good solid kiss every so often, and I know not a lot of people would jump to be with someone as… Annoying as I, but for you, it seemed to be considerably different….

“From the time that Queenie had informed me that you thought I was, quote ‘Cute’, to the first actual encounter, there was something so different about you, and I couldn’t take my attention off of you. The way you walked, carrie yourself, the way you talked with such confidence, something that I wish I had, and something you’ve actually helped me with… I cannot thank you enough for the opportunities and things you have shown me…

“And if you’d allow me, for the rest of our lives…” He looked up at you Newt’s stare was intense, digging deeply into your own that you could almost feel him infiltrating your thoughts. “I’d love to show you equally amazing things… If you’d allow me the pleasure of a ‘yes’ to my next very needed question so I can stop talking and finally kiss you.” He fumbled, raising his wrist slightly to reveal to you the ring that he had so carefully thought about and chose. It was simple, but beautiful.

 A golden band and placed delicately in the center was a flower of diamonds. Small, beautiful and absolutely everything you could have ever wanted all rolled into one ring. You sniffled, staring at it for a moment before looking back at Newt. And the second your eyes caught hold of his, the question flowed from his mouth and sang into your ears.

“Will you, (Full Name) the love of my life, and the dazzling, perfect, amazing mother to my creatures… Will you marry me?”


Hey guys, hope you enjoyed because I know I had a lot of fun writing it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated. Stay tuned for more Newt! :D 

I left it on a cliffhanger, for a reason guys. ;) More to come.

Sweeter Than Honey

Prompt: Could you write a Shiro x reader where the reader is casually calling Shiro sweetie or hon or something for the first time and him just being like (•///•) please? by @natasha-baggins

Y/N was hard at work fixing some faulty wiring on one of the machines that is used to maintain the lions. She was alone and concentrating intensely until she heard  set of heavy footsteps enter the room.

“What are you working on, Y/N?” Shiro asked

Y/N glanced up quickly and smiled a greeting. “Some of the wiring got burnt out last time we used this so I am trying to clean what I can and replace the broken parts.” Y/N explained, her e/c refocusing on her task.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Um… I think I’ve mostly got it. Oh! Could you hand me that screwdriver, please?”

“Sure thing.” Shiro retrieved the object and handed it to the woman

“Thanks, Sweetie.” Y/N said distractedly, intently focused on putting the tool to work.

She continued to work for several moments before realizing that Shiro staring at her with a not so subtle pink tone to his face.

“What? Do I have grease on my face?” Y/N asked concernedly.

“No, it is just you- um- you called me ‘sweetie’” Shiro stammered out, his face turning from pink to red.

“Oh! I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable, it is an old habit of mine and I wasn’t thinking. I-”

“It’s fine.” Shiro interjected. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I actually kinda liked it, if I am being honest.” Shiro admitted shyly.

“Oh, well that’s good.” Y/N said fiddling with the tool in her hands.

“You know… You’re pretty cute when you’re flustered.” Y/N said mischievously.

Shiro blushed even redder. “Well, you’re pretty cute all of the time.” Shiro answered.

“Are you flirting with me, sweetie?” Y/N asked with mock surprise.

“Only if you are flirting back, honey.” Shiro said with a smirk

“Okay ,you need to leave.” Y/N giggled. “I’m not going to get anything done if we continue on like this.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to continue this some other time.” Shiro said with a smile as he exited the room.

Bonus:

“So… You and Shiro?” Pidge asked slowly as she walked over from where she had been working on her lion. It wasn’t that she was hiding, she was just quiet and Y/N hadn’t even realized she was there.

“I don’t know what you are talking about?” Y/N said quickly, her face turning the same shade of pink Shiro’s had.

“Sure, you don’t” Pidge smirked. Oh, Hunk is gonna love this.

anonymous asked:

Hello ^-^ May I request some angst imagines for Soldier, McCree, and Genji where they call on holovid to their S/O who is currently away on a mission because they miss them. They talk for a minute (cue mushy talk) and then their S/O gets shot by an enemy? Whether they live or die is up to you. ouo

A/N: Decided to only do Genji and Soldier since they were a little long, and I figured I could make things a little more angsty if I threw in a couple of everyone’s favorite Talon members. These are kind of sad, but hey, isn’t that the point of writing angst? Besides, there’s some weird sense of pride when you write something like this. There’s some blood mentions in the story, though I try not to go into gruesome detail.

Soldier 76:

76 let out a long groan as he slumped further into his chair. The amount of intelligence that Overwatch brought in was staggering, and he had foolishly volunteered to help sort through it. Even when he was Strike-Commander, he never much cared for paperwork, it was an unfortunate part of the job. He could feel his eyes glazing over as he stared at the pile of papers that covered his desk. He’d earned a quick break, if only to refresh his mind before jumping back into his work. The metallic visor detached with a satisfying click, 76 cracked a small smile as the warm air of his office caressed his skin.

The visor was certainly a useful tool, and did wonders for hiding who he once was from prying eyes, but it wasn’t designed with comfort in mind. 76 reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small rectangular device. The screen flashed to life with a touch of his finger, the simplistic UI leaving each icon plainly visible. His hand lingered above the icon for a video call, inwardly debating on whether or not to get in touch. You’d been sent on a mission, and personal calls back to base weren’t exactly frequent when in combat. There was the odd call between active duty, but the responsibilities one had in the field took priority over phoning home.

76 shook his head, knowing that he shouldn’t even consider calling, distractions could be fatal in this line of work. Sighing gently, he decided against his better instincts, tapping the icon to initiate a video call. The device rang for several seconds, before the screen flashed again, your face appearing before him.

“Hey you. Miss me already?” You joked, smiling warmly at the grizzled man on the other side of the screen. A splash of redness tinted 76′s cheeks, though an untrained eye would have difficulty spotting it.

“Just checking in, making sure everything’s going smoothly.” He spoke stoically, his gruff tone as even as ever.

“Things are looking good, I’d say we’ll be able to wrap up within a few days tops. Talon’s been unusually quiet, not that I’m complaining.” You relaxed your posture, slumping against a nearby wall.

“Glad to hear it. I take it that intel was off?”

“Seems that way. I’m honestly rather happy that we didn’t run into him.”

“Me too, but don’t let your guard down.” You smiled at each other. 76 was never terribly emotional, but he let you know that he cared in his own way. Subtle shifts in his tone or posture, the occasional praise, even a kiss now and again.

“I never do. When I get back, what do you say we-” A rattle from down the hall drew your attention away from your partner. “Hold on a second.” 76 nodded, his face wearing its usual stern expression. You disappeared from the device’s view, a roughly textured wall the only image 76 could see. A yelp peaked his attention, the screen still showing the wall you once laid against.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Answer me!” He could feel the fear rising in his throat as he awaited a reply. The silence was deafening, until the device was raised into the air by an unseen hand. The screen shifted from the wall, to focusing on your battered body held by a single clawed gauntlet.

“Hello Jack…” The anguished voice was all too familiar to 76, the venom lacing his old friend’s words was palpable, even through the call. “I see you’ve taken interest in someone a little… younger…” 76 winced as he watched Reaper’s hand tighten further around your throat, small traces of blood leaking over the ends of his claws.

“Let them go Reyes!” 76 roared, nearly snapping the device between his hands. Reaper’s grip continued to grow tighter, the blood covering his claws beginning to drip towards the ground. “Let them go goddammit!”

“I told you, I will get my revenge.” The expressionless mask stared into his very soul, thin black mist flowing from the openings. He could feel tears begin to roll down his cheeks as he watched you struggle, the iron grip of the reaper was inescapable.

“Jack… I love you…” You coughed out between ragged breaths, your throat felt as though it was going to burst into flames. The pressure Reaper exerted was unimaginable, his force overwhelming your senses.

“I love you so much…” He croaked. “I’m so sorry…”

“How touching.” Reaper sneered, tightening his grip around your neck, snapping it as though it were a twig. It took every ounce of self control 76 had to not cry out in anguish, he could at the very least deny Reaper the satisfaction of watching him break. Reaper discarded your body, placing the device on the ground to leave your corpse in perfect view of the camera. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Jack.”

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, his hands trailing the screen as he stared at your remains. His heart ached as he sobbed uncontrollably, apologizing over and over again. “I’m so sorry…”

Genji:

Genji stretched his arms high into the air as he pushed himself to his feet. Meditation certainly was relaxing, but his joints always felt a little stiff after an extended session. Normally he’d be able to fill some time in the day training with you, or at least relaxing near you. Since you were away on a mission, his day was rather open unless he wanted to spend every waking hour working on his form. A metallic sigh escaped his helmet, Genji found himself rather bored when he wasn’t able to spend time with you. Sure, Zenyatta was more than happy to spend time alongside his pupil, but he was hardly the life of the party. Anything outside of meditation or inward reflection was an alien concept to the enlightened Omnic.

If he was going to relax, he was at least going to do it somewhere with a view. Genji deftly scaled the walls of Watchpoint Gibraltar, making his way to the highest point of the Overwatch base. A small rooftop presented an exceptional view of the bay below, and interruptions this far off the beaten path were extremely rare. Genji had discovered the space during his original tenure with Overwatch before its collapse. Having somewhere to be alone was comforting when he was still adjusting to his cybernetic body. Though once he joined the reformed Overwatch and met you, the rooftop took on a different function.

Instead of somewhere Genji could retreat from the world, it became a space where he could share some quality time with you. A pair of bean bag chairs had been dragged up here by the youngest Shimada, and you were rather insistent that a small rug be placed between them. The metallic rooftop was far from inviting before you each cleaned it up a little, it was almost cozy now. Finding joy in the simpler things was something Genji used to be incapable of doing, but it was almost second nature when he was with you. Being able to take in such a gorgeous view alongside an equally as gorgeous partner was something he wouldn’t trade for the world.

Genji smiled as he settled into the green chair, withdrawing a communications device from his waist. You were away on a mission, sure, but you each tried to make time to talk to one another when you were apart. The device sprung to life as his fingers deftly tapped away at it, quickly opening a video call to your device. It rang for an instant, before your face appeared on the screen.

“I was just about to call you.” You laughed, smiling warmly at Genji.

“Sorry, I’m just a little too fast for you.” Genji chuckled, opening his helmet to reveal his rugged face. Scars from his mortal injuries at his brother’s hands lined his face, though you were adamant that they made him look sexy. “I thought you might miss this view.” Genji spun the device so that the camera faced the shining bay, the waves gently crashing against the rocks below.

“That is a nice view, but I think I prefer the one of you even more.” You playfully flirted, earning a smirk from Genji as he flipped the device back towards himself.

“I can’t blame you, green definitely looks good on me.” He joked, laughing alongside you. “I trust that everything is going smoothly?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, I learned from the best, after all.”

“That you did, but you’re not a cyborg ninja.”

“I like to think I’m pretty close.”

“I can agree with that.” You both laughed again, the relaxing dynamic between the two of you always did wonders when one of you was out in the field. It was hard to be stressed out about a mission when you were joking around together.

“Oh! That reminds me, I was-” A gunshot cut off your speech, a hole now present in your forehead. Genji felt his blood run cold as he watched you sit there wordlessly, your posture slumping backwards slowly, bracing itself against the wall. He was speechless as your eyes stared blankly into space, unblinking as blood began to trickle from the wound in your forehead. Genji stared in disbelief at what he had just witnessed, his love so callously taken from him, so suddenly ripped away. He didn’t know if he’d even processed the fact that you had died, or if he was simply too blinded by rage to feel anything.

The clack of high heels against tile were picked up by the microphone, Genji immediately recognized the sound. A blue arm reached down, pushing your body out of view, a large splatter of blood left on the wall where you once sat.

Adieu.” A thick French accent spoke, seeming to relish in the kill. “Life is so fleeting, isn’t it, Mr. Shimada?” The device was picked up by your assassin, the smooth face of Widowmaker appearing on the screen. “You should’ve joined us when you had the chance, a pity they had to be dragged into this.”

“I am going to kill you.” Genji coldly spoke, his eyes piercing through the device. The rage within him was almost uncontrollable, needing every piece of Zenyatta’s advice to stop himself from tearing the device in two.

“I am terrified, truly.” Widowmaker scoffed, discarding the device to the ground, the sound of her heels fading away. Genji shook as he stared at the screen, hurling it in the bay below. With or without Overwatch’s help, he was going to make sure Widowmaker’s last moments were spent in agonizing pain. He would be sure to recover your body, but mourning would have to wait until he avenged you.

13 Things Anyone Who Loves A Highly Sensitive Person Should Know

Some people are just more sensitive than others, and that’s not always a bad thing. Approximately one in five people – women and men – can be classified HSP, or as a highly sensitive person, according to HSP researcher and psychologist Elaine Aron, Ph.D. That makes it highly likely you know and love someone with the personality trait.

Below are a few things to keep in mind about your highly sensitive loved ones.

1. We’re going to cry.

When we’re happy, when we’re sad and when we’re angry. That’s because highly sensitive people just naturally feel more deeply and react accordingly.

2. Not all of us are introverts.

Introversion does not equal sensitivity. In fact, according to Aron’s research, approximately 30 percent of highly sensitive people are extroverts.

3. Decisions make us nervous.

Highly sensitive individuals are notoriously bad at making choices – even if it’s just picking out where to go to dinner. This is mostly because we agonize over the possibility of making the wrong one. (What if the food is bad?!)

4. We notice that subtle change in your tone.

If you normally end each text message with an exclamation point and lately you’ve been using a period, you better believe we’ll pick up on it. Highly sensitive people are generally more intuitive when it comes to the tiny nuances of our environment and we’re more affected by shifts in other people’s moods.

5. We’re always willing to hear you vent.

Don’t be afraid to reach out to use us when you need a shoulder to lean on. Our overly-empathetic nature allows us to be excellent listeners when you need it, because when you feel pain so do we – and we want to do whatever we can to make you feel comfortable. Highly sensitive people make excellent teachers, therapists and managers for this reason.

6. Repetitive and loud noises are the worst.

Loud chewing, a barreling train, boisterous co-workers: You name it, we’re sensitive to it. That’s because chaotic or overstimulating environments have more of an influence on HSPs, according to Aron.

7. Our workplace habits are a bit atypical.

Working from home or in a quiet space is a dream for highly sensitive people – especially because it allows us to focus if we become too overwhelmed. However, don’t let our solo work ethic fool you. “Sensitive people can use their observations to their advantage … They’re going to rise to the top,” Aron previously told HuffPost. “They know how to bring ideas up without being ridiculed or scorned.” HSPs also make excellent team players due to our analytical nature and thoughtfulness for others’ ideas (just don’t force us to make the final decision on a project).

8. Don’t ask us to see that new slasher movie.

That same high empathy we experience for others combined with over-stimulation makes gory, violent films truly terrible for highly sensitive people.

9. Criticism is incredibly distressing.

As a result, we tend to avoid anything that may cause those feelings of shame. This may mean we engage in people-pleasing or self-deprecating behavior more than most of our peers. In other words, we’re far from perfect.

10. We’re constantly being told we take things too personally.

A joke at our expense sometimes just isn’t a joke to us. We know it’s a little silly to be upset, but what else are we supposed to do with all of our feelings?

11. We have a low pain tolerance.

Pass the ice, please. It doesn’t matter if it’s a broken arm or just a stubbed toe, any injury really hurts. This is because highly sensitive people are more affected by pain than others, according to Aron’s research.

12. We crave deep relationships.

According to Aron, highly sensitive people tend to get more bored in marriages than non-HSP couples, mostly due to the lack of meaningful interaction that naturally occurs as time goes on. However, this doesn’t necessarily mean we’re dissatisfied with the relationship – we just need to find a way to have more stimulating conversations.

13. We can’t just stop being highly sensitive.

A 2014 study published in the journal Brain and Behavior found that highly sensitive people experienced more activity in regions of the brain associated with empathy and awareness when exposed to pictures of emotional individuals than the average person. In other words, we’re neurologically wired to behave the way that we do.

With that in mind, know that the best way to love us is to support us. Try not to shame us for our sensitivity. Tell us it’s okay to feel the way we do. And in return, we’ll try not to tear up over your kind words (no promises, though). (source)

Tyler Seguin Imagine - Barstool

Watch this episode of Barstool’s “The Life” before reading. It’ll help you understand the imagine much better :) 

-

I scrambled around my new 7,000 square foot house trying to get rid of any moving boxes, and any signs of actual living. I had bought a new home in Dallas a few months ago, but still wasn’t completely settled. And today, of all days, was my second “The Life” house tour with Barstool Sports, and the infamous Sophie Julia. When she and her cameraman came to my last house, she flirted with me relentlessly throughout the entire tour. I shut her down as much as humanly possible, and I can barely watch the entire episode back without cringing.

After I finished “cleaning” the house, I threw on a t-shirt, black workout shorts, and a camouflage hat, backwards. I groaned as I saw Sophie walk up the driveway, and hid myself in the kitchen so she couldn’t see me as she was on her way to the front door.

“Hey guys! How are you?” I asked with a fake smile as I opened the door.

“Tyler! Long time no see!” Sophia said in her high pitched, valley girl voice as she pulled me in for a hug. “Why didn’t you ever follow me back on Instagram?” She questioned as she pulled away.

Because I have a girlfriend now, and I also don’t really like you. I thought in my head.

“Oh, you follow me? Sorry I didn’t even see it.” I lied.

“Alright, we’ll film our intro outside and then we’ll get started, if that’s alright.” The cameraman said.

“Sure thing. Didn’t catch your name?” I asked, extending my right hand.

“Mike.” He said with a nod.

“Mike. Okay, just come on back in when you’re ready to get started.” I said with a smile.

As soon as the front door shut, I took my phone out of my pocket and called the only girl I wanted in my house.

“Hi babe!” She whispered into the phone.

“Ugh. Hi. Are you still in class?” I asked.

“No, we were having mock court today. I already litigated but some of my classmates are finishing up right now. I’ll be over there soon. Are they there yet?” She asked.

“Yeah, they are filming outside right now. Please get here soon!” I begged.

“Okay babe I’ll be there soon! I promise.”

“I love you.” I smiled into the phone.

“I love you, too.” She whispered, and hung up.

Sophie was going to hate her.

Just like clockwork, when I pressed the red circle on my phone, Sophia and Mike barged back inside.

“So we are just going to ring the doorbell and I’ll start filming, and we’ll go from there.” Mike said, stepping back out onto the brick stoop near the front door.

I nodded and shut the door, not keen on the whole “acting” bit. They rang the doorbell and the camera was rolling, so we went through the whole “hey how are you” thing once more.

“Wow, this place is beautiful! So, when did you move in?” Sophia questioned as she walked through my foyer, peering at the rooms surrounding it.

“About four months ago. Just needed something a little bigger from my last home.” I told her.

“Thinking of getting more dogs?” She asked, running her hand down my arm.

No, I’m thinking of marrying my girlfriend and having kids. Stop touching me. I thought in my head.

“Anymore tattoo’s?” She asked, still grabbing at my arm. Her fake acrylic nails dug into my skin.

“Nope.” I said quickly, swatting her arm away.

“So, over here is my office. I’ve actually been spending some time in this one, working on my brand and what not.” I explained as she looked around at the various photos I had hung on the wall.

“This is nice. Take me to the kitchen, your last one was beautiful.” She said as she walked out of the room.

“Still not doing much cooking for the random girls?” Sophia asked as she stepped into my all white kitchen and opened my fridge.

“I actually cook a ton for a girl these days.” I answered with a smirk.

Wow, for someone who follows my Instagram so closely, you’d think she wouldn’t have missed all the photos I post of Y/N, and I.

 

“Oh yeah? Girlfriend?” She questioned, suddenly very interested in what I had to say.

“Yeah. Almost a year now.” I answered as she rummaged through my pantry.

“There she is,” I said as my smile grew genuine. There Y/N was, waltzing down the back staircase leading into the kitchen. She was wearing a tight, navy blue knee length dress, black heels, and her glasses. Her short brown hair was straightened and just touching her shoulders. She looked like a sexy librarian…. Even though she was a law student.

“Hey, babe!” She said as she walked over to me, kissing me on the cheek. I grabbed her waist and pulled her tightly in close to me, my hand resting on her ass.

“Sneak in the back door?” I asked.

She nodded as her head rested on my chest. “So, you must be Julia.”

“I am. And you are?” Julia asked, kind of defensive.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” I said, trying to step in before things got too petty.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Y/N exclaimed, subtle sarcasm in her tone. “Babe, your brand manager just sent an email that he needs you to approve designs that have to finalized today. You need to call him ASAP. So I can finish the tour.” She said, staring at Julia.

“Oh, shit, yeah I have to go take care of that. Is that cool, guys?” I asked as I began stepping away.

“Sure.” Mike said, as a disappointed look came over Julia’s face.

I quickly rushed out of the room, a large smile growing on my face after I knew I was out of sight. I quickly scrolled through my emails and found nothing from my brand manager.

Well played, babe.

 

Y/N POV:

“So, are you like Tyler’s assistant as well as his girlfriend? I mean, if you’re getting his emails…” Sophie began.

“No.” I cut her off. “I’m about to graduate from law school, so I just take a look at all of the branding stuff and contracts to make sure everything is on the up and up as far as legal stuff goes. I help out with the designs sometimes, too.”

“Oh.” Sophie said, staring down at the floor.

“So, want to see the upstairs?” I offered, borderline feeling bad that I had been so harsh with her.

“Sure.” She said, motioning for Mike to follow us upstairs.

“Alright, this is our bedroom.” I said, walking into the large master bedroom.

“Wait, ‘our’?” She questioned.

“Yes, I’m in the process of moving in. Over here we have the his and hers closets. And no, the ‘hers’ one isn’t filled with sweatpants he lets girls steal from him.” I said coldly.

“What cute dresses you have!” Sophia said as she flipped through the dresses hanging in my closet, trying to redeem herself.

“Mhmm.” I answered, leading her to the other bedrooms upstairs.

We continued through the other rooms of the house that were finished, and finally made our way outside, where Tyler was sitting by the pool with Marshal and Cash.

“How’d you like the upstairs?” Tyler asked as he stood up and walked over to us.

“Beautiful.” Sophie said. “So, any romance rooms out at this pool?”

“Building one right over there.” Tyler said, pointing the structure in the distance that was not quite finished.

He continued to show her around the pool area as I took his spot on the pool chair and sat with the dogs.

“Well, that’s really all there is to it.” I heard him say.

“Cool. Well, thanks for letting us come by. Can we get out this way?” Sophie asked, pointing to the gate.

“Yeah.” Tyler said as he waved goodbye to her and shook Mike’s hand.

“Was I too bitchy?” I asked as Tyler came to sit down next to me, putting his arm around me.

“Definitely not. Had to mark your territory. It was pretty hot, not going to lie.” He said as he trailed kisses up my neck and to my lips.

“Oh yeah?” I whispered, leaning into his kiss.

“Yes.” He said quietly into my neck. “Swim?” He asked, looking up at me.

“It is getting kind of hot in this dress.” I said, standing up and peeling it off.

“You look hot without it.” Tyler said, standing up next to me and pushing me in the pool.

“Hey!” I yelled as I came up from under the water. “I hate you!”

“You love me.” He said with a smile as he took off his shirt.

“Yeah, I do.” I said.

4

Elisewin’s character design from my project “The Lighthouse & The Whaler”

The final design for Elisewin was very challenging, because of her particular eye and overall face shape. There were so many times where I put her eyes a little too close, or made her cheecks a little too puffy and suddenly she wasn’t recognizable anymore.

I wanted her to somehow resemble the surroundings of the lighthouse, so I imagined her hair being very soft and almost weightless, white as a cloud.
Her eyes have a subtle lillac tone, but are overall pretty dark.

Starbound Language Headcanons
  • Standard Apex language looks and sounds something like a mix of Slavic and Germanic languages with an alphabet inexplicably including some human letters. Notably, there is only one surviving Apex language as other languages, including sign language, are forbidden. For this reason, rebel forces sometimes communicate in these “dead” languages, because the Miniknog are unlikely to understand them.
  • Hylotl language is one of the few things that miraculously survived the Florans’ genocide mostly unscathed. It uses a syllabary system very similar to Japanese kana. The characters are viewed as elegant and a symbol of Hylotl pride, making calligraphy a celebrated skill even in modern times. Pictograms and human loanwords have also recently become popular in media, sometimes even used without any accompanying Hylotl text.
  • Floran language is simplistic, generally including guttural noises and hissing. As is evident by their accents, the ‘s’ and ‘sh‘ sounds are universally emphasized, and pronouns do not exist. Instead, individuals refer to themselves just as “Floran“, and refer to others by their given names. Since Florans have no concrete written language, they, as per the usual, borrow from other species when needed.
  • The Glitch communicate in what is essentially verbal binary code, beeping that resembles morse code. To save time and paper space, their alphabet is made up of symbols rather than numbers, each representing a certain amount of ones and/or zeros in a binary word. Their spoken language lacks inflections, hence why it is specified before each statement. Since they are trapped in the same stage of civilization, their language has no way of evolving.
  • Avians have two main languages that, while similar when spoken, have vastly different alphabets. The first is pictographic and believed to be the original Avian language that developed naturally. The second was supposedly given to them long ago by Kluex, and resembles Arabic. Most of “the grounded“ use the former while the latter is considered holy and only permitted for religious purposes.
  • Novakids have the least conventional language of all, since they obviously have no mouths to speak of. Instead, their metal brands vibrate to produce audible frequencies that sound vaguely like a crystal glasses being played. The vibration is so slight that it is invisible to the naked eye, and while other species can hear the sound, the subtle differences in tone and inflection are indecipherable without a translator. Like the Floran, they have no written language of their own, or at least not one that has lasted more than a few generations.
Harley’s Daughter Imagine: Fear Toxin

Request: @iamnotazombiie Can you do an imagine where Harley introduces her daughter to Jonathan Crane and then she helps Scarecrow release his Fear Toxin on Gotham? (the last one I swear lol)

//////////

Keep reading

Happy March 4th!

Happy March 4th, y’all! On this day in 2005, Rose Tyler met the Doctor.

Originally posted by runnslp

To celebrate, I spent the morning introducing @sandalhat101, who’d never seen Doctor Who, to the fandom. We watched the first three episodes! It was great to go back and relive the olden days. ((One day she shall know my pain…)) I mean, what? :P

In addition, I’d like to share a bit of something I’ve been working on. It’s a JE fixit fic in which Rose was the one who was pregnant on the beach, instead of Jackie. She gives birth to a boy, who’s nearly eight years old when the stars start going out. It’s Mickey who does the dimension hopping instead of Rose, since she has a child to think of, and he finds the Doctor immediately following the events of Midnight. Mickey gives the hopper to the Doctor, who then gets recalled to Pete’s world, which is where the excerpt begins. I hope you like it!

WIP Excerpt (2531 words)

He materialized on an empty, quiet street. Actually, materialize was too kind a word for the way he burst into being, feeling physically shredded on a level to match his mental disorganization. It felt apt, in a way, allowing his physiology to go to pieces, unable to keep himself from stumbling to his knees on the pavement. Even though his superior time senses prevented him from being sick like Mickey, he took a moment, crumpled there on the stone, to just be. Here, in Rose’s universe, no entity, no companions, no TARDIS. He’d taken Rose’s instructions to never let himself be alone. She’d been right, as she usually was, but after all these years he was so tired of running. Of putting on the performance, always being all right, never letting himself feel what he felt for fear of giving into madness. Safe in the knowledge that Rose was here, somewhere, the Doctor finally allowed himself to shatter.

“Are you okay, Mister?” The quiet, cautious voice of a child broke into the miasma of his consciousness, and quite right, too. Here he was, going to pieces on a perfectly respectable suburban sidewalk, while Rose needed him. He wondered how much the child had seen – if he’d seen a man appear out of seemingly thin air and then collapse into a shuddering heap. He was being remarkably calm if so.

He let out a shaking laugh. It was easier to pull himself back together with the child’s presence at his shoulder, and he was appropriately grateful. “No. No, I’m really not all right.” There was a sort of subtle triumph in saying the words at last. He drew in great gasps of air, trying to bring himself back under control.

“Do you need a Doctor?”

He almost misses it, the subtle capitalization the child’s tone lends the term, but the next words don’t leave any room for doubt. “My dad’s a doctor, we-l-l properly speaking he’s the Doctor, but I’ve found other people who want you to call them doctor get cross when you imply there’s only one proper Doctor. Mum says the Doctor helps everyone, though, so he’d help you too, or would do if there was one in this universe. There’s so many different universes, with different versions of people, but not the Doctor, he’s a Time Lord, you see, and his ego is so big it can’t be divided up among different bits of him around different universes. That’s how Mum explained it to me, anyway.” A sniff. “As if I didn’t understand the concept of multidimensional nontransferrence.”

His mind was spinning worse than it had been when he popped out of the Void – he heard every word the child said and it all added up to perfectly rational English sentences (especially the last bit about multidimensional nontransferrence, which he thought was inspired), but at the same time it didn’t make any sense because it was impossible.

What?

He didn’t realize he’d spoken the query aloud until the impossible voice continued, “oh, it’s all quite simple really. You see, Mum told me all the Time Lords had gone, and that they were the ones who used to keep an eye on all the different dimensions. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to infer that they must all have had to stay in one place, the prime universe, if you will, because if there were multiple versions of themselves running about keeping an eye on things separately then they would keep stepping on each other and mucking everything up. Mustn’t cross the streams and all that. I guess that’s why Mum keeps insisting we watch that one movie with the ghosts over and over.”

The unbroken stream of words faded into silence as the child seemed to become lost in thought for a moment, and the Doctor took the time to try to come to terms with what had just happened. In the space of less than twenty-four hours, he’d visited a leisure planet orbiting an Xtonic star, had his mind invaded by a malevolent mystery entity, discovered that Void travel was not only possible, but feasible, been presented with the prospect of finally being reunited with Rose after so long, and nothing, nothing, about all of it has shocked him more than being schooled in basic M-theory by a child. A child who spoke of the Doctor and Time Lords as facts. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the boy, was quite incapable of motion at all, in fact, because he’d just managed to convince himself that it all might be true but with this encounter all that hard-won certainty was slipping away.

“Hey, are you okay? Sorry, there I go again, Mum’s always saying I’ve got this gob from someone but she won’t tell me who. It does seem to have a mind of its own though, because here I am babbling on when you might need a doctor. So do you want me to get you one? A doctor that is. If you need the proper Doctor you’re out of luck, I’m afraid, because I can’t go get my… Dad?

The child put his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and the Doctor turned his head to look at him in the same instant. A charge, like an electrostatic current but ten times more potent, jumped between them, but the Doctor barely felt it. Didn’t need to feel it. Slumped on his knees so that he was looking up into the face of this extraordinary boy, he felt his hearts lodge themselves in his throat.

He has her eyes.

That single thought knocked every other one out of his head – given the state of his mind right then, not the feat it could have been but nevertheless impressive. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d drowned in those honey chocolate eyes and there they were: staring out at him from the face of a six year old boy.

He was so drunk on the sight of those eyes it took him a moment to realize that the face they were set in had the same bone structure he saw in the mirror every day.

What.” The word was hardly a puff of air. His gaze drifted up to discover hair sticking out at all angles like his did when he’s been running his hands through it, except that it was…

“Ginger?!”

“Yup!” Apparently unperturbed, the boy rocked back on his heels slightly, even popping the ‘p’ and leaving the Doctor to wonder absurdly if the tick was somehow a genetic trait or if Rose had picked it up and passed it along, because that’s the sort of thing one did when the world has been turned upside down. “Mum said she laughed herself sick when she saw, but I don’t remember, being so young at the time and all. I’m not sure what exactly is so funny about recessive alleles but apparently they’re supposed to keep me from being rude? Or at least that’s what she says when I’m being rude. Allegedly. Most of the time I think she’s just being sensitive.”

The Doctor let out a stuttered breath which was the closest he could get to laughter without bursting into tears. This had the potential to be the most fantastic thing ever to have happened in his life (well, with the exception of one or two other notable instances) and he was in absolutely no condition to properly appreciate it.

The boy next to him was practically vibrating with excitement and the Doctor could only admire his restraint in the face of his own obvious discomfort. Once his emotions were working properly again through the haze currently clouding his brain, he knew he would be harbouring quite a towering state of rage against the entity who had stolen what should have been, not just one, but two joyous meetings. Instead, he climbed unsteadily to his feet, trying his level best to keep it as much together in front of the child who could only be (he can’t believe he’s admitting it, even to himself) his son - if the nascent bond that had just tried to jump between them through four layers of clothing was anything to go by.

He wished fiercely that he could give the boy the attention he deserved, all the more so since he had apparently missed quite a large portion of his childhood (and oh, how his hearts ached at that thought,) but his miniature double didn’t seem disappointed. On the contrary, he was grinning up at the Doctor as though he personally had hung the sun and stars. The hearts that had been squeezed to nothing in his chest did awkward flip flops. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder instead, feeling again the jolt of the bond that tried to connect even so far from their telepathic centers, and looked seriously into the eyes that he so adored.

“You know… who I am, then?” he asked, unsure of how to broach such a massively emotional topic.

“'Course I do! Mum knew you’d come back someday, wanted me to know everything about you so I’d be ready when you did – or if we figured a way back first. Not one to sit around and do nothing, Mum.”

The Doctor felt a small, but genuine smile cross his face for the first time in a very long time. “No, certainly not,” he agreed.

“I mean, obviously, she was counting on being the first one to see you so she could explain… well, us,” his son said, scratching the back of his head absently, the Doctor watching his every movement in rapt fascination. “I’m making a mess of things, I know I am, but you’re not mad, are you? At Mum? For not telling you?” Somehow, the chipper, talkative genius he’d just been interacting with had vanished, leaving a boy looking very young and uncertain indeed.

The Doctor had pulled him into his arms before he was consciously aware of the action. “No. Nonononononono,” he breathed, over and over into his son’s (ginger) hair. “Never. Not ever. You are brilliant and perfect and so is your mother, and I could never be mad at either of you. Not really.” A thrill ran through him as he said the words your mother knowing they applied to his own son. His Rose.

“Dad?” the child asked, pulling away the slightest fraction necessary to look up at him, an uncertain, heartsbreakingly hopeful smile on his face, a universe of questions contained within the three-letter word. The Doctor’s own hearts attempted to occupy too little and too much space simultaneously, convulsing in a desperate emotion he’d never felt in all his 900 years.

“Yes,” he replied, pulling his son tighter, answering at least some of them. “Yeah. I’m your dad.” It was one of the hardest sentences he’d ever had to say, his voice faltering halfway through. What right did he have to claim anything of the sort, having only just dropped into his life? But the child let out a happy sob, the sound of which embedded itself into the Doctor’s chest, and clutched himself closer to his waist. Both of them were trembling as they embraced in the quiet street. The child’s hands kept clenching and unclenching in the folds of his suit jacket, under his overcoat. They stayed that way for a long time, the Doctor inhaling the scent of young boy that was somehow still unique to his son, all honey and bruised grass and wind and sunlight, until he felt like it was safe to relinquish, just a little, the death grip he’d been keeping on his sanity. It served to throw into sharp relief, however, just how tenuous that control really was, and he knew he needed to make it to Rose before he completely broke down. He bit back a curse. It wasn’t fair to the child to leave him like this, but neither was it fair to keep him on the hook for his emotional wellbeing.

“What’s your name?” the Doctor asked, all the while railing at the universe for making it necessary for him to have to ask this question of his own son.

“Oh! Uhm…” A slightly muffled cough came from the vicinity of his navel and the boy pulled back to look up into his face. “I’m called Connor.”

“Connor.” The name of his son. He savoured it in his mouth, tasting out the sounds. “It’s, oh, so very nice to finally meet you, Connor.” He could feel tears starting in his eyes, and might have lost the battle with them were it not for the sight of the same in his son’s eyes. Despite his trauma, it was somehow the easiest thing in the world to be strong for both of them. Connor’s mouth tipped up in a watery smile.

“You too, Dad. You too.”

The Doctor’s hearts stuttered in his chest, and he bent to his son’s eye level. “Is it all right if I ask where your mum is right now, Connor?”

This time his son’s grin was decidedly cheeky as he gave his father one final squeeze and let go, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “I’m impressed, Dad. It took you a whole fifteen minutes to ask about Mum. Were you shooting for some sort of record?”

The Doctor’s hands found his own pockets, his posture mirroring his son’s as he studied him. “I’m always impressive, me. Also, never predictable if I can help it. More fun that way.”

Connor sucked in a breath through his teeth, his tongue poking between them slightly. “Dad, that was where you were supposed to say that I’m just that brilliant and engrossing.”

The Doctor winced playfully, but his eyes were serious as he caught his son’s gaze. “Is that so? I guess I’m just rusty at this whole fatherhood thing.” And if that isn’t the understatement of the millennium… “You’ll have to be a bit patient with your old man, yeah?”

Connor nodded solemnly, wrapping his arms around his father again, an embrace which the Doctor returned wholeheartedly. “'Course, Dad. Always.” When he pulled back, he had a box in his hand, which he then offered to the Doctor.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously.

“It’s for Mum,” Connor replied. “It’s why I’m not with her right now. Apple tea. I bring her some every year, on the anniversary of… well…”

The Doctor looked about himself, taking in the early spring scent of the air. “Do you mean to tell me it’s the fourth of March today?”

“Got it in one, Dad. Mum said you were good.” The Doctor winked at him, and then sobered. Apple tea. Every year, the scent of apples, and Rose, alone with her memories the same way he’d been, without her. No more. He let out a long breath, holding out his free hand towards his son.

“Well then, Connor Tyler, let’s not keep your mum waiting!”

“And Now, the Queen Mother!” by Milmon F Harrison

My wife needed new headshots, so into the backyard we went. I love the regal expression and how the subtle sepia tone lends the photo a timeless air. I also had to use my “old” camera, and realized I’d forgotten where some of the controls were. Gotta get it out more often!