the drawing gods actually hate me

Pumpkin Carving Sentence Starters

“Careful with that knife!”
“Let’s draw the faces first this time, okay?”
“Can I get a new pumpkin…? I messed up.”
“No you can’t get a new one! That’s your third pumpkin!”
“Don’t use a marker this time.”
“Okay, now be careful with the knife.”
“You know what? I’ll use the knife. Give it here.”
“Whoa. How’d you cut that in a perfect circle?”
“Okay, don’t forget to put gloves on first.”
“I don’t need gloves for this!”
“Ew, god, I hate this smell.”
“This makes me want a Pumpkin Spice latte, actually.”
“We’re going to keep the seeds to cook with later, right?”
“This always feels so gross…”
“Not now! I’m disemboweling this pumpkin!”
“I can never follow the lines exactly…”
“Wow! You’re weirdly good at this.”
“Don’t worry, it never looks like the pictures.”
“How do people on Pinterest do this?!”
“Oh no! Its face is caving in!”
“I think I need another pumpkin…”
“You pumpkin looks very spooky!”
“How did you do that?! It looks amazing!”
“What is yours supposed to be a face of?”
“Okay, let’s put the candles in and we should be all done!”
“Oh – oh god, your pumpkin’s on fire!”

So I’m about to lose my frikkin mind with animating and drawing in my style which means meME TIME!! 

Some people have noticed that I have this knack at style adaptation but this time I really wanted to put myself to the test with some great spn art styles!!

Each person here has granted me permission to draw in their style for the meme and oh my god I had a ton of fun!!!!!!

first box is mine and i hate my own style with a burning, fiery passion rn ngl it is so difficult even for me (which is why i slapped a drawing i had on hand lol)

@kamicom oh my goddd i swear ur artwork is exactly everything that i love smashed into one i’m such a sucker for cute girly pastel shoujo stuff i have no idea why my actual style is the exact opposite…!

@vinnie-cha holy shit your style made me use a SAI brush I never knew eXISTED LMAO??? This was fun bc this forced me to do some airbrush and flow brush techniques for oNCE. I think I also spent the longest time on yours homg.

@sketchydean DOING UR STYLE OF LINE ART WAS SO THERAPEUTIC YOU HAVE NO IDEA. Also it’s taken me this long to realize you shade with about 3+ colors how u do dat on a daily basis.

@consulting-mutt Your style had me think a lot it was very educational on how to nail everything down perfectly like you do ;q;

@diminuel hhhHHHH I LOVE YOUR STYLE SO MUCH???? Adapting it has been on my bucket list since forever I wish my style was like yours oh my god ;w;

@jennilah I FEEL LIKE UR STYLE IS FORCING ME TO USE RAD SUPPLIES LIKE BRUSH PENS AND SPRAY PAINT CANS idk every time I see it’s i call it the “fuq da police” style and I think that’s beautiful.

Thanks again to everyone who allowed me to do this meme I am forever grateful \o/


YEAH so a couple of you actually wanted to see that god-awful ancient piece of fanart I did when I first watched death note and holy hell this single drawing has somehow survived in my archives since god knows when and it still haunts me. i was probably in my mid teens when I drew that atrocity.

there are so many things I hate about the old drawing. i want to set it on fire and never look back [there is a phsyical copy of the sketch somewhere, it was coloured digitally].

the context to the whole “teams” thing is when I first watched it, I immediately decided that matt was my favorite character. sure he didn’t make an appearance until later on, but something about his outfit was just so appealing. now unfortunately I could never remember his name [he appeared for like, five seconds and this was wayyy before I read the manga] so for an entire year I went around calling him “that guy”. also my gf [at the time] and her cousin decided that their teams were L and Light respectively and I wasn’t interested in being part of any of that.

SO, tl;dr: to all you young or otherwise inexperienced artists out there - take this as some form of inspiration. you will eventually get better. it’s gonna take a while, and you’re gonna hate your art, but you’ll get to where you want to be if you keep drawing.

anonymous asked:

Can you write some prompts with: "Good luck? What are you talking about? I'm dragging you with me."

1) “Good luck? What are you talking about? I’m dragging you with me.”
“Oh, you’re definitely going to need good luck and a good bit more if you actually think you have a chance of doing that.”

2)  “Good luck? What are you talking about? I’m dragging you with me.”
“Which is exactly why I’m praying for good luck - I’m not dying for your stupid cause.”

3)  “Good luck? What are you talking about? I’m dragging you with me.”
“I’ll only slow you down. Complete liability. And I complain, a lot.”
“You’re coming with me.” 
“And I snore. Can’t cook. Will probably scream if there are spiders.” 
“Great, we can scream together and draw straws on who has to deal with it.” 
“You’re not actually dragging me with you.” 
“Oh, I actually am. Or are you actually fine with me going on my own?”
“God, I hate you. I’m coming with you, aren’t I?”

(more rambling about beginner decks)

I’M SORRY I’M NOT SHUTTING UP ABOUT THIS but you guys I’ve had years to think on this and @mother-of-swords started a great discussion.

One other thing to note is that beginner deck doesn’t necessarily mean “first deck”. Like, my first deck was the Mythic Tarot, which I actually think is a great deck for beginners in the sense that the cards relate to Greek mythology and a lot of us either have a natural interest in that or learned it in middle school probably. So there’s a lot to draw from there already.

But god I hated that deck after like, three days. I couldn’t work with it at all and didn’t understand anything. Which sucked, like a lot!! Later, it became one of my favourite decks (and I miss it dearly now that I don’t have it anymore) but it just wasn’t right for me at the time.

After that I got the Goddess Tarot. This….wasn’t any better. And the less said about my time with that deck, the better.

Next, I got the one two punch of the Robin Wood Tarot and the Housewives Tarot. The Robin Wood Tarot was very well done and very accessible to me, and it shaped a lot of the way I think about tarot.

But I learned how to read tarot on the Housewives Tarot.

This is not often considered a “beginner” deck. In fact, it’s considered a novelty deck, which generally means “no one should seriously read with it”. (Novelty decks are, of course, now my favourite decks to read with)

My beginner deck was the Housewives Tarot, because it perfectly spoke to who I was, what I liked, who I wanted to be, and how I thought at the time. To this day it is probably the cherished deck in my collection, despite still being readily available and cheap. It was not my first deck. Certainly wasn’t my last deck. But it’s what I learned on.

With that in mind, I didn’t get a proper Rider Waite deck until I’d been reading tarot for almost a decade, so. You manage, is what I’m saying with all of these words everywhere.

anonymous asked:

sorry but mateo can't come to the phone right now. why? because he's DEAD *intense pop music starts playing*

ANON i didnt even think i was gonna be motivated to draw mateo ths yr!! look at what yu made me do!!

The drawings in the cave and Ramsay's letter.

I haven’t finished watching episode 4 yet. My connection stopped at the Jon/D@ny scene in the cave. (Of all the scenes to stop… Ugh!)

One thing I noticed is Jon touched D@ny. I was so disappointed when I saw it! Why did you do it Jon? The old gods and the new must hate me. LoL! Except they actually love me.

I realized, Jon is becoming Sansa.

Let’s compare what happened when Jon reunited with Sansa, with what’s happening now that Jon is with D@ny.

In season 6:

  • Sansa escaped Ramsay and went to Jon to ask for help. Sansa asked Jon to take back Winterfell because she knows they will never be safe while the Boltons are in power.
  • Jon declines because he’s tired of fighting. He’d rather go South and get warm. Sansa said she wants Jon’s help, but she’ll do it alone if she has to.
  • Ramsay sent a threatening letter, telling Jon what he would do to him, his family and his allies.
  • Sansa grabbed Jon’s hands, told him they had to fight to save their brother and their home from the monster.
  • Jon finally agreed to fight.

In season 7:

  • Jon went to D@ny to ask for her help to fight against the White Walkers. He knows no one in the 7 Kingdom will be safe while the WW are there.
  • D@ny declined because she is fighting another enemy in the South and because Jon did not kneel. But she lets Jon mine some dragon glass.
  • Jon sees the drawings in the cave made by the Children of the Forest about the White Walkers. Similar to Ramsay’s letter, it acts as a warning to urge all men to fight together against a common enemy.
  • Jon grabbed D@ny’s hand… (And I think we know D@ny’s bound to fall for Jon).
  • D@ny agreed to fight for the North, BUT Jon has to kneel first.

I see Jon becoming more and more like Sansa.

But D@ny is not exactly becoming like Jon. In fact she reminds me of someone else in Sansa’s life who is willing to help, but with strings attached. (Any guesses???)

Jon couldn’t say no to Sansa everytime she touches him. D@ny gets convinced too, when Jon touched her. But she still insists on getting what she wants first. (I think a similar situation will be like Jon agreeing to fight for Winterfell if he and Sansa go South first… And get warm… Lol. Boat sex anyone?)

Last season we saw a lot of heart eyes from Jon. This season, I think we will see a lot heart eyes from D@ny. (It might look a lot like a glare though… I can’t really tell the difference in D@ny’s facial expressions.)

And if we saw Jon going away from Sansa because he’s tormented with his feelings, I think D@ny will do the opposite and pursue him instead. Who else is shoving his unwanted feelings in everyone’s faces? That’s right! Littlefinger.

If Jon is becoming Sansa, then D@ny will be his Littlefinger. And we know what Sansa will do to LF this season (as much as we know about D@ny’s third betrayal).

I thought D&D hate us, but season 7 is actually very good to JonSa!!!

We just need to look beyond the surface. Everything is hidden in plain sight.

Do you guys see more Jon and Sansa similarities? Care to share? Anyone?

Captive in the starlight

A/N: The Royal Kidge AU that I’ve been talking about! It’s here! Thanks to @hells-will-88 and @fitzcarraldonighthawk for being awesome Beta’s! Please read and review!

Her mother stares lifelessly at the pillow beside her, where her father used to sleep. A single, grey-brown hair rests on it, marring the smooth, white surface.

Katie squeezes her hand, hoping that maybe the sheer force of her will might draw her back to the land of the living. An angry tear rolls down her cheek and onto the white bed linens. Why does this have to fall to her? She’s not prepared; She’d never wanted this. “Wake up, mom. Please, come back for me.”

Her mother blinks slowly, and sighs. Her tangled hair falls into her face, and Katie sighs before brushing it back. She’d hoped that maybe today her mother would finally hear her, might actually wake up and wear her crown again today, but obviously, the gods must hate her, because she is just as comatose as she had the day before, and the day before that. Katie dips her head, pressing her forehead into her mother’s soft side. She can feel her chest move with every breath, filling up with air, and then spilling it out again.

“I’m too young, I’m unprepared,” She sniffs. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to replace you guys. I’m not ready.”

Katie’s the second born child, so it had never been more than a vague, and distant idea that she might one day have to step up. Since no one had ever expected her to have a chance to rule, she’d had free reign of her education. While she had studied alchemy and medicine, and how machine ticked and computed, her brother had memorized the traditions of their allies, and learned civics, and how to actually run their country. Katie can’t regret it; she loves knowing what she knows, but still, she wishes that she had’ve bothered to learn something, anything, so that she wasn’t so clueless.

“Mom, please.” She pleads, her voice barely a broken whisper.

Behind her, the door slides open.

“What?” Katie asks, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. Whoever it is doesn’t speak until she dabs her eyes dry and turns to face them.

Shiro is waiting by the door, watching her with guarded eyes. He’d known her since she’d been a child, snot-nosed, and with a penchant for getting herself covered in mud and grass stains. He’s practically her only friend, the only person in this castle that she trusts to see her mother like this, and to see her cry.

She sniffs and sinks back down onto the bed, her ceremonial dress weighing on her shoulders as if it’s been sewn together with threads of lead. “Sorry. I just- I-” Katie takes a deep, shaking breath. “Is it time?”

Shiro nods, and offers his right arm. His right arm, taken from him just like Matt had been taken from her. He was lucky enough to come back; Matt was not.  “It’s time. Are you ready?”

Not at all.

To accept the crown is to admit that her family is broken, and comatose and dead, but as her advisor had told her, to continue being stubborn, to continue funding expeditions into Zarkon’s territory that only lead to more missing, more dead, would lead to the court thinking her unfit of ruling, and she would have a rebellion on her hands to deal with.

Katie slips her arm through his. Her sleeve doesn’t do much to soften the metal of his arm, but she doesn’t care; it grounds her, keeps her from running away like she wants to.  “Of course.” She lies, her voice shaking. “Of course I am.”

Shiro leads her through the winding halls in silence, shooting her concerned glances as often as he dares. The halls are empty, spotless. Almost every servant employed by the castle is in the main hall, or in the kitchen preparing the feast, and attending to the guests. It’s strange, not passing anyone by in the more public halls. He stops her in front of the grand oak doors, and pulls her into a bone-crushing hug.

She sinks into his familiar grasp as he whispers into her ear, “You may be my Queen now, but you are still a girl who’s just lost her family. You can still mourn them.” He pulls away, and adjusts her dipping collar before resuming his proper position beside her.

They continue forward, and Shiro presses the switch on the wall,  and the doors spill open, welcoming her into a room filled with heady scent of expectation. The chairs at the end of the hall are filled with the few commoners deemed worthy of witnessing this event- war heros, and off-duty guards- and their eyes feel like spotlights trained on her. Katie can feel the back of her collar start to grow damp with nervous sweat. She can’t let it get to her. She can’t mess this up now.

Katie sets her gaze on the throne at the end of the walkway, and starts to walk. The throne is beautiful; a creation grown rather than built; pruned and guided into the high backed chair it is now. Gold fills in the cracks and holes, and lines the green cushions pressed into the seat and backing. Her father used to sit in this chair, she thinks, and now she will. The emerald carpet stops just before the steps begin, a small lump there where the carpet has been pushed up. She takes a deep breath and turns around.

The crowd in front of her is a blur of color and movement, and she can’t tell where the chairs begin and the people end. The priest steps away from his position beside the throne, and stands beside her. His wizened, old hands clasp around hers. “Princess Kathryn, of the Holt and Sutton lines, do you stand before me, ready to take on the burden that your father has passed down to you?”

She swallows. “Yes, I am.”

The Priest coughs into his shoulder, turning the dark, red fabric a shade darker. “Yes, yes. Now,” He coughs again, louder, and then looks up to meet her eyes. “Will you recite the ritual rites?”

Katie nods. She’s known these words for years, since she was young enough to recognize them under her father’s breath when he had to deal with something hard, or echoing in her brother’s room as he practiced the words, over and over until they flowed like water from his mouth. The words come to her easily, but still feel like a mockery as she says them.

“The new gods killed the old, and bestowed upon us the power to rule ourselves. For the burden of this power was too much for the common man, Aphelia bestowed this power upon her son, and henceforth, the royal family has ruled Terra. As I ascend, I promise as my father’s father has promised, and his father before him, that I will put my country above my own heart’s selfish wishes. The life of my country is my own, and I will serve you because we are one.” Katie bows her head, and the priest sets the heavy crown upon her head. Rather than a pretty ornamental piece, like the type the Alteans wear, the Terran crown is made of heavy iron, meant to weigh upon its wearer’s head to remind them of the weight of their decisions. The crown is heavy; it feels like she’s being forced to the ground, and already, she hates it.

She straightens up, and turns back to her father’s throne and climbs the stairs, each step in tune with the pounding of her heart. Katie takes her seat. Her dress takes up most of the room in the seat, it’s many layers of satin and silk spilling around her. She looks up at the crowd staring back at her and meets the eyes of new Empress Allura. Her pink eyes are bright, set on Katie’s dress and throne and crown with curious eyes. Out of anyone in this room, she might be the only one here who is just as new to this as she is. The Altean Kingdom had been silent for nearly two hundred years, and had only joined the coalition after the Western war began again five years ago.

Katie’s father had attempted to become allies, if not friends, with the Alteans but his efforts had come to a halt when King Alfor was murdered in cold blood. Katie had only met Allura once or twice before, and that was before she was fluent in the common tongue, but she had seemed nice, and eager enough to make friends with her. She notices that Katie is watching her, and smiles, dropping her hand from where it’d been intertwined with the King of the South, Lance’s hand.

On the opposite side of the isle sit the Galran Princes of New Daibazzal, Prince Lotor and Prince Keithian. Prince Lotor watches her watching him with an amused look in his yellow eyes. He smiles, and his fangs glint in the light like swords. She shifts her gaze to Prince Keithian, who’d been a close friend of hers before the war had began. He’d been Keith to her, no titles between them, and she’d been his Pidgeon. It had been a relief to be around him, to be no one important except for being his friend. It’s been years since they’ve spoken, but nevertheless, seeing him offer a tentative smile is enough to banish the remaining butterflies in her stomach.

The Priest steps aside, and calls out to the crowd, “Praise be to our new sovereign, Queen Kathryn of Terra!”

The crowd cheers, the royals clap and grin, and Katie realizes that the easy part is over, and that the worst of it is just about to begin. The other royals, her peers, are supposed to present her with gifts, which often foreshadow their future relationships with one another, and are supposed to represent her becoming one of the ruling class. It’s going to take hours to receive every royal in this hall, which means hours and hours of forced social interaction on which the future of her kingdom and the success of her reign depends on. Of course, her brother would’ve found this part easy, fun even. Talking to people, remembering how to accept gifts depending on the culture, and figuring out which words to say? That was his thing. He was nice, and easy to get along with, and would’ve loved the festivities today. The only part of the day that he would’ve had trouble with was the incantation, because as well and as long as he had known it, he still somehow managed to mess it up whenever he recited it to someone else.

“Empress Allura, and the Southern King Lance of Altea!” The Herald calls as the applause dies down.

Katie fiddles with her hands, hidden behind the flowing curtains of her skirts, as Empress Allura stands, her dress flowing off of her body like water. Her dress seems more comfortable than Katie’s fluffy green monstrosity, but she still curtseys stiffly, as if trying not to displace her outfit. A strand of curly, white hair escapes from her bun as she straightens up, and she quickly brushes it back behind her ear. “It was a pleasure to witness your ascension, Queen Kathryn. I do hope that our kingdoms may continue to work toward our shared goals of peace and innovation.” Her words are warm, but crisp, and have a slight lilt, marking her as a foreigner. But beyond that, she speaks in the voice of a monarch, one who has seen too much, too young. This is the voice that Shiro’s been telling her she has, whenever she switches from her easy vernacular to the proper one demanded by the court. Katie can tell that there is a girl inside of her who’s just as nervous as she is.

Katie takes a gamble, and drops the proper script to speak like she normally does, like she would to a friend. “Me too, Empress. I hope that we can be friends more than anything. I know I sure could use one.”

Allura’s polite smile spreads into a warmer grin. “As could I.”  She steps aside, and Lance rises from his chair to join them.

King Lance is already wearing a warm smile, as he steps in front of her, and bows. As he stands, his blue tunic seems to shimmer in the light, like a lapis lazuli spun into cloth. “A pleasure, your Majesty. You look beautiful.” He steps aside, and gestures at the servants behind him. “I hope you like our gifts, though I doubt that anything that we could offer can rival your beauty.” He winks dramatically, and grins.

Allura rolls her eyes, but his words make her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Two servants stand from their seats, and carry a simple metal chest over, holding it out before the three of them. Allura presses the glowing teal button on the front, and it pops open to reveal a folded dress made of the same Altean silk as Lance and Allura’s clothes are made of, dyed in the colors of the Terran flag: Emerald green, yellow, and white. It’s beautiful, and undoubtedly expensive, and Katie has no idea how to wear something as beautiful as that without feeling self-conscious, but she likes it anyways.

“Thank you, Empress. King Lance.” Katie says. “That was- That was beautiful. Thank you.”

Allura merely smiles, and nods, and then she and her court recede like the tide going out to sea.

“Prince Hunk, and Queen Shay of the Balmera.” The Herald calls. A man dressed in a simple yellow tunic and brown overcoat stands up, hesitating at his seat before the Balmeran woman beside him, Queen Shay, she presumes, whispers something encouragingly. He nods and then heads up to the throne, carrying a small chest in his ungloved hands.

The Balmerans had been enslaved under Galran rule for nearly a hundred years, and they had only recently been freed during the turmoil that had resulted from the recent split within the kingdom. She remembers now, Katie thinks with a start. Prince Hunk had been a lowly commoner who’d gone to the Balmera to trade. When he’d gotten there, he’d ended up invited to their ball, and just like a fairy tale, fell in love with the Queen, and she with him. It had been the subject of court gossip for months; how could she forget?

“Your Majesty.” Prince Hunk bows a little too deeply, and then straightens up, offering the chest to her as casually as one would offer a glass of mead. She looks at him curiously, and then unlatches it. Inside is a collection of vials and bottles, all labeled in meticulous and large handwriting. She catches a couple words- crystal shards, quintessence- before she closes it, and passes it over to a servant hovering nearby.

“An alchemy kit?” She guesses, some of her excitement leaking through her voice.

The Prince smiles sheepishly, and fiddles with the dull ring on his finger. “Well, uh, yes. I’ve heard many things about your work, about your personal library and the discovery of the new quartskill medicine system, and I thought that you might enjoy trying out this branch of science. I hope I didn’t overstep.” He adds.

“Oh, no, of course not. I love it, Prince Hunk. I’ve heard that you’ve made some innovations of your own. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to see them?” Katie really wishes that their audience would disappear; asking excitedly about machinery and mechanical carriages is not becoming of a new sovereign ruler, but that’s all she wants to do now that she realizes who he is.

Hunk smiles more confidently, and bows again before hurrying back to his seat. His wife smiles at him proudly, one of her hands resting on her pregnant stomach.

“Prince Lotor of West New Daibazzal.”

Prince Lotor stands, his cape swooping behind him in a cascade of purple. His hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that seems to rival Allura’s locks in length. Katie doesn’t know him too well; their ages were far enough apart for him to avoid interacting with her whenever she came to visit, but the few memories that she does have of him are enough to back up the various rumors she’s heard floating around. Cocky, proud, full of himself, and a liar with a tongue of honey.

He bows before her, and kisses her hand. There are a strange lack of servants trailing behind him, and for that, she is suspicious. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to be here today, and to bask in the brilliance of your beauty. Please, enjoy the many gifts of my people. There are breathtaking, but never so much as you.” Prince Lotor moves to stand beside her, taking his place in the small gap between her and Shiro. She hears Shiro sigh exasperatedly, and then the quiet click of his boots as he steps aside.

The doors at the opposite end of the room wing open, and a procession of servants step into the hall. The guests turn around row by row and gape at the bounty that they carry. Shields that glimmer in the light, swords and knives and daggers inlaid with jewels and cast in silver and gold. Scepters that seem questionably phallic-shaped, and armor, so pretty and thin that it’s practically useless except for decoration. Katie isn’t sure how long it takes before they finally stop, but by the end of it, there are mountains of stuff around her, and her servants are barely making a dent as they hurry to take it away. She glances over at Allura, and she is positively fuming. Her ears are a bright red, and her glare looks like it could kill, if Lotor would ever look over at her. Shay looks mad too, although she does a better job of hiding it behind a stony expression.

They’re not wrong to be mad. Prince Lotor has outdone just about everyone with his show of wealth. His wealth which comes from the subjugation of so many people, especially the Alteans and the Balmerans.  

Still, Katie knows better than to make a scene and deny his gifts, or to say something about his underhanded insult. “Thank you.” Katie says as Lotor bows before her once more. “I appreciate your generosity.”

“Nothing less would do for a lady as fair as you.” He says smoothly, before returning to his seat.

Keith glares at Lotor as he sits down beside him, but his brother’s smile doesn’t shift an inch.

“Prince Keith of East New Daibazzal.” The Herald calls.

Keith sighs heavily, and stands, his crimson overcoat dragging on the floor behind him. None of his servants, or his court follows him as he walks up to her throne. His hands are empty. His gait is slow.

Katie knows him well enough to understand that he doesn’t want to be here. He tries to avoid his brother whenever he can, and to be forced to interact with him civilly during the duration of the festivities, well that’s almost too much to ask. Beyond that, she senses that there’s another reason for his unease, although she can’t tell what.

Keith stops before her throne, and bows. “Your Majesty. I-” He stops, and pushes aside his crimson tunic to pull a knife from his belt. Most of the room cannot see it, but the front row can, and their eyes go wide at the sight. It’s his mamoran blade, the knife that’s supposed to ‘hold his heart’. She’s not well versed in Galran culture, but even she knows the significance of him drawing it. He turns it around, and grips the blade, offering the handle to her. “I would like to ask for your hand in marriage. I offer you my blade, and my kingdom, and a life of love. Would you accept?”

Katie feels her heart stop.

Marriage? As in, marrying Keith?

She’d known that a proposal would be a possibility; she’s a single girl, of marrying age, sitting on a mountain of wealth and power. Who wouldn’t want to capitalize on her vulnerability while they had the chance? She just hadn’t expected it from Keith of all people. Shiro is tense beside her, and she knows that he can sense her confusion. What should she say? What should she do? Katie doesn’t remember the protocol for this. She doesn’t know what to say.

“Pidge?” Keith calls quietly, the nickname pulling her from her thoughts just as easily as it had when they were kids. “I know this is sudden, but, please. I’m trying to protect you. Please let me. Please trust me.”

A husband, and another kingdom to worry about; she doesn’t want anymore responsibility, but it keeps finding her anyways. The Terran Kingdom has been weakened by the war, by the loss of the royal family. Insurgents have already sprung up in the south, and Shiro has had to stop three assassination attempts in the last week alone. Katie is just a girl; she’s not ready, she’s nervous, she’s bad with people; but to marry Keith, that would be something that her parents would approve of, that her brother would urge her to do. Of all the choices that she has to make, this one should be the easiest.

Katie reaches out tentatively, wraps her hand around the hilt, and pulls it from his grasp. The blade is made of that strange, purple metal that only the royals ever use, and an oval gem is embedded in the hilt. It feels strange. It feels like him.

She lifts it high, high enough for the whole hall to see. A cascade of gasps runs through the room. “I accept your proposal.” Katie says clearly, her voice unwavering despite her nervousness. “I will marry you.”

Keith smiles, and bows to her once more. A hint of a smile flashes across his face before he looks away, avoiding his brother’s angry gaze. “Did you ever think we’d end up like this?” He asks as he turns around, heading back to his seat.

Orphaned, engaged, rulers of their kingdoms. No, she hadn’t expected that at all.

I had so much fun drawing Jasper thought like oh my god I love him!! <3 He is too pure and we must all save him

Lineless but in my style! I actually, don’t hate it. I really love it!

Please, Please, Please reblog this!! I like reblogs more than I do likes so please do <3 it makes me feel so happy when people do reblog my art because it makes me feel special!!

quicklikelight: Think about Danny doing random room checks and walking in on Scott kissing a boy. And suddenly, Danny really wants to be the boy Scott McCall is kissing.


Danny fumbles over whatever he was about to say and backs out of the room before either Scott or his gentleman caller can react. Except he doesn’t do it so quickly that he misses Scott’s slow, deliberate lick of his lips, just a casual little post-kiss self grooming that umm. Does things. To Danny.

Who beats a hasty retreat to his room, where he stands in the center of it, frozen while his mind mentally revises years worth of interaction with his former classmate. Then, in a move worthy of neither his IQ nor his education, he dials Jackson on his phone.

Look, everyone has their own unique ways of self-sabotaging. Some people skip class. Some people party more than they should. Danny asks Jackson for advice. It is what it is. 

“What?” Snaps a groggy voice, answering the phone. Which is Jackson speak for ‘hello, I missed you.’

“Scott McCall kissing boys is a thing. Why didn’t you tell me Scott McCall kissing boys was a thing?” Danny demands in response. It isn’t really code for anything.

“You’re saying words, and I feel like I’m expected to know what they mean, but I don’t,” Jackson yawns. “Also, I don’t care. Can this wait until you’re coherent? When answering, keep in mind that I don’t care.”

“Scott McCall goes to UC Davis now. He lives in my dorm. I just walked in on him with his tongue down another guy’s throat. This is highly relevant information that would have been really helpful to know, there was that monosyllabic enough for you?”

“You started strong but then it got away from you at the end,” Jackson drawls. Faint pew-pew sounds from the other end of the line convey that he’s not paying this conversation the attention it deserves, and he still has terrible taste in video games. “Still not seeing the part that makes any of this something I care about. What’s your point?”

“My point is how come you never told me Scott was into guys? Aren’t you supposed to be able to smell that or something?“ 

“Maybe if I’d ever sniffed his underwear or something,” Jackson verbally rolls his eyes. “You realize I only ever got the Cliff Notes version of the How To Werewolf Good manual, and weirdly enough, how to smell where your loser classmate points his boner wasn’t a chapter heading anywhere in it.”

“Maybe I’d realize that if you ever bothered to tell me about any of this stuff. Instead of having to figure it out for myself while I was DATING a werewolf…”

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say I’m sorry - ”

“Once would make a good start.”

“Look, we’re never going to get anywhere on that front. Mistakes were made,” Jackson says magnanimously. No, its actually a hell of a concession, coming from him. And people wonder why Danny now has an actual, honest to god vetting process when making new friends. “Seriously though, what’s the big deal? So McCall looks both ways before crossing the street. Who cares? You’ve never been into gossip before.” 

“I never knew Scott McCall kissing boys was an option before,” Danny all but yells into the phone. “I now have to reevaluate every single time I’ve ever spoken to him….do you even know how many of those times might have been him hitting on me, in light of this new information? I don’t even know because I can’t count that high and I can count pretty goddamn high, Jax.”

“We’ve both been hit on by losers before, Danny. It’s not the end of the world. You’ll survive.”

“Why are you being like this? We both know that you’re not actually as oblivious as you pretend to be. There’s no possible way you missed that I’ve had a crush on him since sixth grade.”

“No, I noticed. I was just hoping if I ignored it, it’d go away. Like gum on the bottom of your shoe.”

“That’s not a thing that happens Jackson. Ignoring gum on your shoe doesn’t magically de-gum the shoe.”

“How the fuck would I know that? I don’t step on gum, it would ruin my shoes. It was a metaphor. Jesus.”

“Stop it.” Danny places a palm to his forehead, reflects on two decades of poor decision making, beginning with befriending Jackson on the playground first day of kindergarten. "Stop doing your WASP-y Whittemore boilerplate evasion tactic thing where you piss me off until I hang up on you, hold a grudge for several days and forget what I originally called you about by the next time we talk. This is happening. Me having a thing for your high school nemesis or whatever is a thing, him kissing a boy is a thing, and you getting on board and helping me is a thing so get on board, Jackson or so help me god -”

“I most certainly will not,” Jackson hisses dramatically. Its times like things where you can really tell the whole ‘he used to be part snake’ thing. “I have standards, and I won’t be party to some path-”

“I am cashing in my chips,” Danny hisses back equally dramatically, and he may not have ever been part snake but goddammit two musical theater electives have got to count for something.

“What chips?”

“ALL THE CHIPS Jackson. All the chips from being your friend and putting up with your shit for year after endless year and never asking for anything in return other than the occasional wingman at the Jungle and okay, you know what, so I do ask you for stuff and you’re not actually as terrible a friend as everyone assumes but there has still been some shit and I most definitely have chips and I am cashing them in, so here’s what’s going to happen.”

Dead air reigns. Then. Begrudgingly. As though being tortured: “I’m listening.”

“You are going to call Lydia,” Danny intones, holding up a finger that Jackson can’t possibly be expected to see, but he feels powerful, intoning while holding up that finger so he decides to stick with it. “You are going to apologize for the many, many things you have yet to apologize to her for. You are going to make it good so she doesn’t just hang up on you. You are going to grovel. And then, when she’s been entertained enough that she’s willing to listen to your obvious ulterior motive for finally calling her out of the blue after all this time, you are going to find out everything she knows about Scott McCall kissing boys. How long has he been kissing boys? How many boys has he kissed? Ballpark, I don’t need hard data points. Is kissing boys just a euphemism for other physical interactions with boys or the sum of his experience?”

He pauses for breath and Jackson seizes the moment.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just slip her a note that says ‘Does Scott like Danny? Check the box for yes or draw a frowny face for no.”

“I fucking hate you so much, I swear to god.”

“I’m just saying, I feel like you were less pathetic when you were actually twelve years old, and you were a pretty pathetic twelve year old.”

“I hope were-cheetahs eat your face.”


“Where the fuck did that come from?”

“I don’t know,” Danny sighs. “Look I’m in a very strange headspace right now. I don’t even know what I’m thinking. Can you just do this for me? Please?”

“Fine,” Jackson draws out through obviously gritted teeth. “I want it on record though, I’m doing this under extreme protest.”

“Noted. Irrelevant.”

“Just saying. He’s beneath you.”

“Not yet, but give it til the end of the semester.”

“Eww. If I do this, you have to promise not to disgust me with references to McCall’s anatomy or anything you might do with him.”

“Too late. Negotiations are over, you missed your window.”

“Ugh, dammit. You suck.”

“And thanks so much for helping to facilitate my sucking of your most hated -”

“You’re such a shithead. I hate your guts. Don’t die because of werewolf drama, I’ll call you when Lydia tells me something worth passing along and I swear to god you better not be waiting by the phone when I do.”

“Aww, see you do care,” Danny manages to get in gleefully before a click announces Jackson’s hasty departure.

He flops onto his bed like the pathetic twelve year old he is, and wonders if they still made the line of Armani aftershave he wore while in high school. He was pretty sure Scott liked that one.

Plus its not like he can be accused of waiting by the phone when he’s out buying aftershave, now can he?

Obviously not.

Someone stop me from writing a paranormal radio host Stiles and grumpy deputy Hale who hate-listens in his cruiser on nightshift because it’s wrong about ALL THE THINGS and eventually starts calling in to argue with no evidence to back him up because he can’t just come out and say he knows because he’s a real actual werewolf ok

Because I should be drawing right now but god help me

Alison : “Come on, guys. You need to be more excited!”

Helena : “…”

Cosima : “Whatever, been here done this”

Sarah : “What the bloody hell is this, Al?!”

Rachel : This is the last time that I said ‘bored’

Krystal : “This is sooo… weird”

* * * * *


anonymous asked:

yo where can i read/ryden conspiracy things? or proofs? whatever? pls im bored :(

now THIS is the kind of message i like to see !!!! okay these are mostly just from google/my ryden tag

edit: oh my god i cant believe i forgot basementdemo‘s ryden lore tag once u enter ur in a downward spiral and u can never escape!!!!! have fun!!!!

znarkand  asked:

Im so glad you're on the right side of the shipping discourse, im so fucking scared to follow ANY jojo blog bc literally like at LEAST half of the community is shipping something gross like josuke and rohan or koichi and an adult and it just makes me sick. The jjba fandom is a frightening one tbh.

2/2  Like, ur an insp to me and ur blog is mainly jojo so im glad to see you have a good view, that blog w the sheith on it is.. Disgusting…

thank you!!! also YEAH honestly i only interact w/ mutuals or people they trust in here i swear to god every corner i turn there’s some Shit…….you can have my promise i’m not gonna advocate or (forbid) draw any of that stuff lmao….i hate seeing all that disgusting shit w/ jjba…..good luck out there

demise and ganondorf: you are that suffering

(this is another text post im so sorry :( :( :( i try hard to draw something cool buttttt so far its not really working, and so - WORDS)

So *draws deep breath* i just think that if Gan was really Demise incarnate it would be so fucking funny if Demise, being reborn a human, starts hating his own curse, like, “fuck, ugh, who DID THIS, its SOME HYLIAN GODS RIGHT I KNOW IT SHOW YOUR DIVINE FACE IM GONNA SPIT IN YOUR POCKET”

Actually, I want to expand in on this… let me put it this, less comedic way:
even if Ganon is Demise, all things considered he’s still his own person. And umm so, as a weeaboo that I am, I will compare them to Lilith and Rei from Eva BECAUSE SHUT UP
Lilith is a divine alien creature, and Rei is the vessel for her soul. I mean it’s more complex than that but HEY I’m trying to make a point here, which is: as a divine alien creature, soul of Lilith probably had much different experiences which shaped Lilith into Lilith, but as Rei, a thing with a human body and a human mind and confusing relationships with other humans, her soul changes and too, becomes a soul of a human named Rei.
So from my point of view, “Demise’s soul” experienced none of the displeasure of having a human body as a god, but then being born as a human child, felt the searing wind and frigid gale for the first time of its existence, and feared for ifself. Simple human needs tamed and reshaped the god’s soul, giving it a new purpose. 
Ganon eventually tried to flee from the mortal existence and reclaim the godly trone, with varying results - he seems to be rather satisfied with it in Hyrule Warriors and TP, but in WW he tries to break this connection and the cycle itself. Essentially, by talking about his discomfort while living in desert, he puts his human suffering above his divine origins, enough to seek escape from this world.
As Demise said, “go ahead and weep like a human”. How absolutely dismissive, but how could you ever respect humans if you never felt their pain? And now, this pain fills your mortal body - you are that suffering.

and as for my stance on whether or not demise is actually ganon: i don’t really care either way, there are cons, there are pros, but mostly, i just really like crying about ww ganon and will do this at every opportunity given

Also, now that Im thinking about Eva, man this makes me wish BOTW had human Ganondorf merging with Calamity Ganon and forming Giant Naked Ganon. Mmmhmm

anonymous asked:

Hiya Fran! Um... What are your thoughts on MT!Prompto and Ardyn??

Short version:

In which I’m letting Oracle boy draw answers to my asks

Long version: Grouch has it canoned that MT actually dislikes Ardyn despite his alignment and I support it fully because I too dislike Ardyn (as a person, his character is brilliant. It really is. But I hate him. Gods I hate him.). I also must admit that Prompto and Ardyn interactions make me uncomfortable from the get-go sooooo


selfinsertheaven  asked:

You have an Oc? Tell me about them!!

I have… a lot of OCs… I’ll tell ya about the one I self ship with, though! Ye be warned, he’s my second oldest OC, and is thus a Gary Sue/Marty Stu(I’m sorry you guys have to read this) ((also these aren’t as shippy just general shit but I can get lovey dovey in another post/ask asdfghjkl don’t look at me))

  • His name is Arioch and he’s kind of a Shit but I love him
  • He’s a fox demon (does that make me a fucking furry? god damn it)
  • T e e t h (i shamelessly have a kink for sharp teeth and thats probably why i like this asshole so much??? lord have mercy)
  • Dad Leader of a legion of demons
  • Many millennia old, looks ageless. Dermatologists HATE him (does that mean I have a thing for older men? oh no)
  • Freckled bitch (i didn’t actually draw them)
  • Pierced fox ears which seem impractical in beast mode and you are right but for the #aesthetic (also didn’t fucking draw cuz im forgetful)
  • Apathetic and Nihilistic
  • Really sad and broken.
  • Alcohol is his best friend 
  • Smokes pipe(not nicotine??? What could it be)
  • Sarcasm or Die™
  • Swords? Swords. He uses many swords.
  • Turns into a hulking fox demon beast on blood moons. Must be restrained and watched by his men on those nights.
  • Obligated to appear when summoned by someone cuz he’s a demon, which fuckin sucks when we’re doin something and he just goes “Ah, fuck, brb.”
  • Usually kills them if they are assholes anyways so like. He’s back in minutes
  • Current contracted master: Myself (but not in the kinky way, just a “you gotta do what I say” way. Think: Tomoe from Kamisama Kiss [he was my Tomoe before Tomoe even existed h a])
  • Eats organs to live. Can’t eat human food, save for strawberries: how? Why? Who knows, but we both like them so that’s Neat.
  • Death? Yes. He kills. A lot. Lives in morally gray area perpetually
  • “Say ‘what does the fox say’ one more fucking time, I dare you.”

Oh gosh I’m so sorry you had to read this aaaaaaaa