the end us near

Fic Raffle #4 - Start!

The Fourth and Final Fic Raffle is here. Yay for alliteration, and yay for us nearing the end of the month! 

Reminder that the entry period is now back to 48 hours - from 12AM EST Sunday morning to 11:59PM EST on Monday! I will be randomly selecting one person to receive a 2.5k+ fic request from me - of anything they like! Just remember, I’ll be publicly posting it on the blog, and it has to be NMS related.

How to Enter: Just like this post! Reminder that reblogs are not counted for a second entry, and that if you like this post, you will be counted in the raffle.

1 Like = 1 Entry.

If you are selected, you will be sent an ask and message from my personal blog, @kashimalin. You will have 24 hours to respond to my message before I pick the next person!

Good luck to everyone!


Happy birthday to bell, book, and candle by @skittidyne which shook my world almost 2 years ago and I hope everyone reads it because seriously, it’s exquisite.



Harry Styles - Abusive Ex Imagine

[Hope you like it! ]

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dominant vs. inferior versions of the functions

Dom Si: it makes sense to do what has always worked
Inf Si: *something is slightly abnormal* hahhA aha ahaahaahha kill me

Dom Se: let’s go for a run it will be great! look at the sky! the air in the room feels particularly nice
Inf Se: drugs, sex, food, alcohol   —–give it to me——

Dom Ni: look at what the future holds!
Inf Ni: the end is near, there is no hope for any of us, we are all doomed to oblivion

Dom Ne: the possibilities for what we could imagine are endless! 
Inf Ne: okay but consider this: what if I forget to do my homework what if I fail my classes what if I don’t graduate what if I never find a job what if no one ever loves me what if satan reaches up from the depths of hell and consumes what little is left of my soul what if

Dom Fi: these are my values, they are important to me and I stand by them
Inf Fi: you think I am being a little stubborn? well guess what you can shove a cactus up your ass

Dom Fe: don’t worry, I’ve got your back! I am here to support you
Inf Fe: ah um erm *ahem* hm ah uh there there it’s uuh okay

Dom Ti: logic is a wonderful thing, I bet there is a lot we could do with it!
Inf Ti: oh so you think that I am incorrect about this one thing?? how dare you say that how dare you doubt my knowledge what is wrong with you, no you are the one who makes no sense get out of my sight

Dom Te: we are going to get things done today *gets things done that day*
Inf Te: now you see I have everything planned out and I know exactly how we are going to get this done, but, additionally, I see another possibility: we do nothing

I heard a poet say the other day about how easy it was to write with a mask on, to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, if I hide the words good enough and toss away the keys to this lock, could you still find yourself if it’s so deep inside of my flaws? You love it when people write about you, especially if I’m doing the writing it seems. I don’t write about you much, so here I am. One last poem. And I give your eyes a solid peek with every letter, a silent whisper that says nothing, but if you pay attention to my lips it mouths an I love you each and every time when you catch me staring at you and I look away. I wonder when I see you staring, do you do the same when I turn away my head? I love to write, but you’ll wonder if it’s about you, you, you, you, you or her, her, her, her, her or her. It’s about you. This is about you. You know who you are. In the first conversation we ever had, you asked if my favorite color was red before even getting into my head. And those eyes that peer, that leer, that steer straight into mine, we haven’t met, we have met, we haven’t loved, we have loved, we haven’t fallen, we have fallen, we haven’t fucked, we have fucked, we haven’t broken into, we have broken into, we haven’t written, we have written, we haven’t been, we have been, we haven’t talked, we have talked, we speak for five minutes and I feel like I’ve known you for several lifetimes and attention is such a trickling thing as it falls from my eyes and into yours– we haven’t been anything before these five minutes, but I’ve made love to your every way before we knew, before you knew, before I knew, we were kinda fucked. We made sure to not get too close, we made sure that it never happened, it stays as it stays, it says as it says, and one day, we’ll never be. She says I could never date a writer. And as ironic as it is, we’re both writers, so as enamored and as pulled to one another as we are, we’ll think about it when the sun decides to go for another eternal nap, and when the moon finally decides to give those love letters back with different people holding each cloud up, with separate lovers holding us, we’ll think about it until it hurts. And we’ll do it for the sake of falling in love, the art of the what if’s while you’re young and stupid, it goes like this. You are something that casts more deadly spells than a dark lord’s wand, that bends more trees than the wind during hurricane season, that breaks more often than a sidewalk during the heat of summer love, that admires more deeply than artists comparing themselves to Van Gogh, that swells more quickly than a mosquito bite because you forgot bug spray although it never works because they too find you irresistible from blood type to skin, that itches worse than eating something you’re allergic too, it’s often our favorite foods too, that stretches more than the horizon when the sun asks the moon to come out and play always, always, slow dance to that one song from now on, that sings as beautiful as the Mona Lisa when we try to figure out her smile, that still to this day, I choose to not talk to you because yes it’s true, I’m a little in love with you, and yes it’s true, we won’t ever exist at the same time, too many obstacles and yes it’s true, we live for poetics the modern romantics trying to be antiques inside of a masterpiece, we never knew how to love properly, so we tried to pave way inside of a kaleidoscope– if we ever fell in love, it would be a bad trip, like overdosing on lsd because you thought that you were a cactus and spines started to grow out of you, yeah that kind of fucked up. We would be messed up, but I think in some lowkey happy offset universe, we would’ve been happy about it. She talks to me about poetry like I invented it, the truth is I write to feel something, isn’t that why we do anything? These words have been written before, I’m just following footsteps, I’m just another person trying to write down my wrongs, am I wrong for it? And it was one of those days, some strange scene from an anime when the sun is setting and they’re walking across a metal bridge as friends and he comments on the days that go by without a second thought, and the water is running and she says that you can’t skateboard down slopes because you’d get in trouble, rules were meant to be broken, and if you don’t break them, you can bend them just right. And it’s that kind of day, where bookstores mean more to us than clubs. Neon soul, would you care to stay here as you are for just a little while longer? She speaks about poetry like it’s the only thing that matters. He utters back wildfire spreads wildfire. I don’t know why he said it, but it just felt right, right? And the day will end, but not before you walked us through two art museums and there’s always a juicy secret near the end of us whispering to each other about other people and what they’re up to. In this fairy tale, they don’t fall in love. In this poem, they don’t get together. In this life, they’re just friends. In this heart, they’ll be just two lost souls stuck on a bench, I’m a little tired, I’ll just rest my head on those shoulders, and I must tell you, that you look better without make up. There will a day when this is just a faded gem you’ll find in your brain. There will be a brief moment when you’ll remember those five hours, and it all started because of those five minutes when you asked if we have met before, and I know that I write long pieces with very shitty grammar and not enough elaborate metaphors, but the thing about my writing and why it’s so damn relatable may be because I write with a cold heart that just wants to feel warm, we all need that day. That day, that’ll indefinitely change us in ways that we may not be able to comprehend today, tomorrow or even by next year. A day that explains, a day that demands to be listened to and just like how a chest needs a careful set of ears to listen to its heartbeat, I’m glad that I gave a listen to yours. And maybe I’ll move out of this city where people do the same shit every fucking day and pretend that it’s okay, that this is it. We’ll work until we’re grey, get that 401k go on vacations while we’re fragile with an old passion for pastries, cheap hotels and some famous beach that all of the old people go to. There’s got to be more to life, you mentioned that a few times. This was just a glimpse to what could be with someone else, and I’m always holding onto your hands just a little too tight because I don’t want you to let go and it’s okay because today will end, but not in this memory. In this memory, we’re young forever. In this memory, we’re breaking every rule just a little bit. In this memory, I write down every little detail because I don’t give a fuck. In this memory, I play a slow dance with you until the moon finally explains itself to us in entirety. I’m full because of you, I’m empty because of you. In this memory, the metaphors never run out and the poetry isn’t just about love, it’s not about sadness anymore, it’s about clawing my way out of my thoughts and back into a moment where I’m not so depressed and I’m cracking jokes right next to you all the way down Central Park and in this memory, there’s a small chance that you could’ve been more than just someone who showed my heart around New Orleans. In this memory, I remember you as my pretty crimson. And if this memory shall ever fade, I’ll fade with it too because the more we write, the more we are, if I am what I eat and I am what I do, I’ll eat the yellow paint and write until it’s dark and if I’m ever blind and no longer the person that I was when I walked across that bridge with you– at least it’s an ending that I can dwell on. Poets write poetry, clouds use rain as a disguise, but this writer is just wearing another mask and tomorrow isn’t any different. I am the wildfire, and I’ll spread in many directions. I just hope that we never burn down together and if we do, that wouldn’t be so bad, right?

i really loved this color wheel thing in 2015 and i wanted to (and subsequently forgot) do one at the end of last year, so i decided last night to put a new one together!

last year i was SO dedicated to portraiture and i grew a lot. i didn’t intentionally work with any specific palettes, but i noticed near the end of the year i used more and more cooler colors. so i didn’t work with very warm green tones or reds throughout the year, and i’m looking to change that this year to help my range a little more!

Ok guys so I just have a lot of angsty headcanons trapped in my brain today about our sweet children so here, have a random list of Nygmobblepot things about these broken characters:

  • Imagine Edward suddenly going still one time and not letting Oswald even touch him for days because Oz somehow managed to say or do something that reminded him of his father
  • Imagine Oswald breaking down out of nowhere because Ed accidentally says something only his mother had ever said to him before
  • Imagine Edward clutching Oz’s arm but not saying anything because the hallucinations are back and he just needs something to centre him in reality
  • Imagine Oswald suddenly backing out of their first time being intimate because he’s too self-conscious of Ed seeing him naked
  • Imagine Edward launching into an argument with Oswald because he was gone for longer than he said he would be and Ed thought he’d walked out on him like everyone else has
  • Imagine Oswald asking Ed to say he’s beautiful because he really needs to hear it every once in a while and he doesn’t have his mother to say it anymore
  • Imagine Edward flinching when Oz points at something because usually when someone raises a hand like that its because they’re going to hit him
  • Imagine Oswald getting irrationally angry at Ed’s teasing because it was too similar to what the bullies used to say
  • Imagine Edward panicking because his hand ends up near Oswald’s throat one time and he doesn’t remember how it got there and now he’s scared of himself again
  • Imagine Oswald freaking out over Ed accidentally cutting himself because he will not have another person he loves die and its made him lose perspective on the seriouness of injuries
  • Imagine Edward overly apologising for something tiny like spilling a drink because he remembers getting in trouble for it when he was a child

Good, I feel better now you lot can all suffer with me.

Tyler Drabble 001

Title: N/A

Pairing: Tyler Joseph/Reader

Warnings: Physical/Emotional Abuse, Angst, Alcohol and drug use, Cursing, A bit of fluff near the end just for you guys <3

Rating: Mature

A/N: This was a really full & detailed request and I thought it would be interesting to write about! Lemme know what you think & send in more requests y'all!

Requested by: @panicatthefallout

Words: 1652

You had just finished your shift at the hospital downtown. Today was a very busy day in your ward so ultimately, you were forced to stay late and help administer vaccinations to the people who needed them the most. You didn’t often stay late because of your boyfriend, Vincent. He didn’t like it when you weren’t home on time to clean the house or do the washing up after he’d been drinking for seven hours straight. It really didn’t matter to him whether you were busy or not, all he cared about was having enough of your money to buy endless amounts of booze and weed with and using you for his own sleazy antics.

You kept your eyes focused on the road, anticipating what words Vince would give you when you returned home. Probably something along the lines of: “Why the fuck weren’t you home at 5:30?!”, “I told you I don’t want you out past 6!” , “Were you cheating on me with that Tyler prick or something? You filthy slut.” , “You’re honestly a worthless piece of shit.” , “I’m only staying with you because no one else would ever want you.” .

You never knew why you stayed with him so long, he wasn’t good for you and you knew it since he started getting physical two years ago. You remember it like it was yesterday, you were out late at the pub with your small circle of friends when he started spamming you with texts asking where you were and who you were with; it wasn’t like him. When you got home that night he was waiting in the living room on the sofa. You had approached him to give him a hug when he slapped you across the face harder than you had ever been hit before. It felt like a million bee stings to the side of your face, making your cheeks grow red and your eyes well up with tears. The next morning he apologized and swore he’d never do it again, but he did.

 You arrived at your house and parked your car in the driveway. When you stepped through the door, the first thing you could hear was the loud booming of your boyfriends speakers blaring ridiculous music and all you could smell was weed, alcohol and sweat.

Another one of Vincent’s parties. Great.

You dropped your work bag down on the floor and walked back outside, deciding to go visit your friend Tyler for the first time in about a week and a half.

You parked your car down the street from Tyler’s house so that if Vincent decided to come pay you and Tyler a visit, he wouldn’t know you were there unless he came inside.

You got out of the car and speed walked to Tyler’s front porch, smoothing out the wrinkles in your scrubs and knocking at the door with your frail and bruised hand.

Tyler came to answer the door almost immediately and greeted you with a warm welcoming smile. “Hey, stranger.” Tyler greeted with a grin, pulling you in for a hug and stepping aside so you could walk into his familiar house.

He gave you one of his t shirts and a pair of your shorts that you’d left at his house months ago to change into while he ordered a pizza for the two of you to eat while you caught up with each other later on.

Once you were changed and comfortable, you walked into the living room where Tyler was sitting with the pizza and drinks and sat down next to him on the couch.

The two of you talked about work and his band and all sorts of things, cracking jokes and having a good laugh until you noticed Tyler staring at your arms with a worried and confused expression on his face. “Tyler..” you said quietly, trying to pull down your sleeves so he couldn’t see your bruises and scratches while also mentally slapping yourself for not thinking to wear a sweater over your t shirt. “Do you wanna explain what these are?” Tyler said with a concerned look, motioning to your arms. You hesitated for a moment, thinking of what to say, “I fell off my motorbike the other day, it’s no big deal.” You shrugged. Tyler sighed, deciding not to push any further.

You made sure to get home after 5am the next day because Vince would be sleeping and he’d be too hungover to say anything to you about being out the previous night as well. You and Tyler had agreed to meet up again in a couple of days for lunch at the local boulangerie to just hang out like you used to and maybe even talk about Tyler’s next tour with his band.

You woke up at 11:42am to find that Vince wasn’t in the bed. You got up and walked out into the living room to see Vincent with your phone, scrolling through your text messages. “Vince..” you started. “Shut up.” He raised his hand as if he was silencing you and shot a glare your way. “Vincent what are you doing with my phone?” You asked, raising your voice slightly. “Have you been going out at night behind my back?” He asked in a low voice. “Vince, I-” you started once again. “I SAID HAVE YOU BEEN GOING OUT WITHOUT ASKING ME?!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, getting all up in your face in an attempt to intimidate you. “No I haven’t!” You whimpered, tears brimming your eyes. “Then what the fuck are these messages, huh?” He asked loudly, scrolling through messages Tyler had sent you:“Can’t wait for lunch today lol” , “it’s on me btw don’t worry” , “call me when ur leaving k?”.

“I was just going for lunch with an old friend, Vince.” You said shakily. “Did you ask me if you could fucking go out?!” He yelled. “Y’know what? I tried to be nice. I let you live in MY house, eat MY food and even after all the shit you do I still stay with you. That’s it, fuck you.” He ranted, balling his fist and punching you in the face. Hard. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. The punches kept coming harder and harder each time, with him yelling about how much of a “worthless skank.”you are and how “nobody will ever love you.” in your ears. He shoved you against the living room wall and spat in your face before walking out of the house, probably to go to the bar or something.

It felt like you had been lying on the floor for hours, the pain too much to even move. You had been crying off and on the entire time, heavy sobs wracking your entire body and making you quake with anger, fear and sadness.

You heard the door swing open and assumed it was Vincent because no one from your family ever visited your house. The reason for that being because Vince didn’t let you  talk to them often. You heard footsteps coming closer and closer so you shut your eyes tight, anticipating impact to your face. But instead of a blow to the head, you were picked up and brought outside to a car.

You woke up god knows how long after, your mind fuzzy and vision blurry. You blinked a few times and once your eyes adjusted, you realized you weren’t home ,but instead at Tyler’s house. It took a moment for the panic to settle in, your mind filling with so many thoughts and worse case scenarios; What will Vincent do to Tyler if he finds out I’m here? What will Tyler think of me for staying with Vince for so long? Am I gonna die? What the fuck?

Just as you were about to get up and make a break for it, Tyler came into the room with a cup of tea and a bag of frozen peas.

“So..” Tyler started hesitantly, after at least an hour of sitting next to you in an awkward yet comfortable silence on the bed and holding the bag of peas to the side of your head. “So..?”  you repeated, glancing over at him. “Why didn’t you tel-”, “I’m sorry.” You cut him off abruptly, wiping a small tear that had escaped your puffy red eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you the first time, Tyler. I’m so sorry.” You apologized, sniffling every so often. “No, no, no. You don’t have to apologize, I’m sorry for not being there as much as I should’ve. I was a bad friend.” He said, using his free hand to rub his face. “You’re not a bad friend, shut up.” You replied in your raspy, cracking voice. “You’re an amazing friend and I’m so so grateful that you basically saved me back there.” You thanked him sincerely. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” He chuckled lightly. “Right.” You agreed, laughing slightly.

You spent the rest of the day with Tyler’s arm gently wrapped around you, while his other hand was holding a bag of frozen veggies to your head. All while watching movies and eventually explaining everything that had happened before to him in full detail.

The two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms after the fourth movie and the day after, decided that you enjoyed each other’s company more than you both initially thought. That eventually led to the two of you hanging out and basically cuddling every night after.

Tyler sat by your side and comforted you as much as you needed that night, and for the first time in three years; you felt safe.

In the following two years after the ‘incident’, you had filed a restraining order against Vincent Martello and he had been sent to jail for ten months on charges of assault, mischief and assaulting a police officer. Also in that time frame, Tyler had told you that he loved you and the pair of you had decided to “take things slow” (even though you were already living and sleeping in the same bed together).

Hidden (Part 19)

There’s a bright figure in the distance in the shape of Jinyoung, but his face his blurry. He stands facing me as I squint to see clearer. There’s a fear within me, but I’m too curious to let it scare me too much. “Jinyoung?” I call out but the figure stays silent. It makes me emotional to be experiencing such a supernatural feeling. Why isn’t he answering me? Am I invisible? “Jinyoung!” I yell out more confidently. The figure turns away from me and walks straight ahead. My feet pulls me forward and I begin running to him.

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anonymous asked:

Is it me or do lots of people seem to think that because since Itachi is a good liar and can be manipulative, seems to make people believe that it's impossible for someone like him to be manipulated and lied at too even though he very much has been?

[[ I need to make a couple of disclaimers before I tackle this question, because this sort “Itachi cannot be manipulated” sentiment usually comes from very specific circles. Firstly, I’m not pro-ending. I have a lot of issues with the main Naruto ending, but I do consider it as canon because it honestly is canon. Nothing I can say can change that. 

Now.. this sort of statement towards Itachi mostly seems to stem from anti-ending blogs. You’ll see it a lot, “Itachi is just a Leaf supporter” “Itachi is an unrepentant mass murderer” (I have literally seen this one), “Itachi excuses the village’s system”, “Itachi being good is just a bad plot twist”, “Itachi should’ve stayed a villain” “Itachi is just as bad as Tobirama”, etc. 

I’ve spoken about this before, but, when dealing with Itachi, most of the people who deal with Itachi (myself included in the past) have this mindset of treating him like an adult in all situations. And by adult, I mean “he is an adult therefore all his decisions are his own and nothing and no one else influenced him.” Essentially, the fact that Itachi was very intelligent and skilled somehow makes him immune to manipulation and being used. Which is just, as a whole, very very wrong. 

I know there’s a term for this somewhere. I can’t figure out what it is, but I will someday. Usually the biggest argument is the massacre. Itachi was 13 years old. And sometimes they’ll argue back, well in-universe this is considered an adult, especially considering his rank as an ANBU. And sure, we can run with that for in-universe context, but then they fail to apply the same context to every other person. Suddenly, everyone else is children, but Itachi’s some adult and has to bear the full responsibility of his actions. People like Danzo, Hiruzen, and Fugaku to some extent get away scott free when it comes to how they shaped Itachi. Danzo and Hiruzen get their own set of complaints, but none of how they used Itachi. That never gets rightly placed on them. 

I also think most of the blogs who do this haven’t read Shinden. Which I may reiterate, is also canon material. Kishi did sanction these novels, even though he didn’t personally pen them himself. May I say again, canon is canon whether you like it or not. It’s something that can be difficult to accept for some, but you’ll feel a whole lot better when you do. You don’t have to like it, and you can criticize it, but that doesn’t change what actually happened. 

The novel is like a full explanation of how Itachi was manipulated. This fear of seeing that bloody battlefield is a recurring theme for Itachi. He doesn’t want to see that fighting again. He gets reminded by Danzo if he doesn’t take this very specific path, then actual fighting will break out and it will escalate. The threat of the Uchiha V Village situation escalating is one that’s always on his mind. Sasuke is used against him near the end. 

Itachi is very much skewed against his clan early on, as well. There was very much the potential for Itachi to see the racism against his clan for what it is– racism. But he always found ways to excuse what personally happened to him. Kids bother him? They’re just kids. Anbu angry that the Kyuubi killed his sister and is therefore the fault of all the Uchiha? Ehh, he’s just jealous I’m the youngest ANBU. It…honestly baffled me how Itachi could hear that man say that and just shrug it off. Agreeing to keep the surveillance a secret because it would make his clan angry (as it should). Because if they find out they’ll get mad and push their plans or attack now, and in Itachi’s mind  attack = bloody  battlefield. He’s literally 5 when the compound is built. It doesn’t matter how smart he thinks he is, his thinking is that of a child. Children will find positives. Oh, we’re being stuffed together at the end of the village? Why be mad, we can all be a family together and I can raise Sasuke somewhere quietly. Also look! They’re building our homes first, how can we be mad?

Not only that, but I think these people ignore things Itachi said in the manga, too. Sometimes I think they skipped the entire fight vs Kabuto. Itachi touches on clan pride, Itachi readily admits the village system has issues. The only thing I disagree with is that it has to be left to the younger people to fix, but I digress. He’s not much of a revolution person himself. 

Adding, Shisui died. Shisui was the person Itachi trusted the most and looked up to the most. Itachi felt terrible, he felt alone, and he was desperate for help. It is SO much easier to use Itachi and sway him into a decision after the person he was taking advice from is gone. Itachi wasn’t the brains behind stopping the massacre, Shisui was. And now Shisui’s gone, and he has no idea what to do. 

Beh. Anyways, my main point is that Itachi was used and manipulated, even if he doesn’t ~act~ like people think a normal manipulation victim should. That’s part of manipulation, of the victim not noticing or not being able to admit it. It’s how the abusers get away with it. So by ignoring that pretending this was literally all Itachi’s fault, you’re letting his abusers get away with it.

Now…..I’m not saying Itachi is except from any criticism period. Not at all. There’s definitely a lot to be discussed. He definitely has flaws. But there’s a point between valid criticism and blind hate and refusal to acknowledge that Itachi was used. Just as much as Sasuke was used.

Serena also wrote a long post about this, which I suggest reading. ]]

anonymous asked:

percy x annabeth

  • Name: Evan Paul Jackson
  • Gender: Male
  • General appearance: Evan is basically just Percy made over again.  With dark hair, sea green eyes, and the same troublemaker grin, the only thing that even ties him to his mom is his nose.  And really, that’s so lame that no one even really picks up on it.  Standing at a solid 6′ 2′’ when he’s full grown, Evan can officially look down at both of his parents.  Although, that doesn’t really seem to matter since h swears they can both grow about a foot when they’re angry.
  • Personality: Being a Jackson automatically means you come with a reputation.  At least, on the godly side of the family.  People expect you to have some sort of hero complex and be ready to go out and save the world.  They expect you to be some sort of leader that is ready to take charge at the first sign of a problem.  But Evan is certainly not the hero people want all the Jackson to be.  He’d much rather follow someone else and let them do something stupid to risk their lives.  He’s much more content to blend into the background, taking care of the injured and cleaning up the mess left behind.  Out in the mortal world, Evan still chooses to blend in with the crowd.  His grades aren’t spectacular, but he manages to pass his classes with ease.  He’s part of the school student council, but only serves as a student representative and the idea of taking an officer position is ridiculous to him.  When he was younger, his parents tried to get him involved in sports–swimming and basketball like his dad, and soccer like his mom.  But Evan really didn’t care about any of them and would often convince the coach to let him help the other kids whenever they got hurt.  He’s quiet and doesn’t feel as though what he has to say is anything special.  So, that’s why he prefers to stay in the back, making sure that everything else is running smoothly so others can do their job out in front.
  • Special Talents: While he doesn’t consider it much of a special talent, Evan’s attention to detail rivals no other.  He’s constantly pointing out certain things that might seem small that could end up making a huge difference later.  Whether that’s in a battle or a school pep rally, Evan can spot these little things.  For not being an Apollo kid, Evan’s also talented at helping other people heal.  He learned proper ways to wrap ankles, wrists, etc. in order to help prevent injuries or keep already present ones stabilized and even started studying and experimenting on the right dosages of ambrosia and nectar to give people to promote the fastest healing possible without burning them up.  He’s also a talented swordsman.  A gift given to each of the Jackson kids on their sixth birthdays was a plastic sword.  With it, they would learn proper handling techniques and some basic things about fighting.  Then, once they were able to prove they wouldn’t severely hurt themselves or someone else, they were given an actual weapon.  Because of this, Evan has been sword fighting for years and is more than capable of wielding a blade.
  • Who they like better: Both of them because they’RE BOTH THE COOL PARENT.  But, let’s be real here, his favorite person is his Grandma Sally.
  • Who they take after more: Percy, for sure.  His mom craves adventure and recognition, whereas Percy and Evan both are content to not be the one that’s chosen to handle something big.
  • Personal headcanon: Of the three Jackson kids, Evan’s the only one who got any of his father’s abilities, which he sees as cruel irony.  His sister loves being the center of attention and would kill to be able to manipulate water the way he can, while Evan prefers to only do it when it’s absolutely necessary.  In fact, it’s something he tried to keep hidden from everyone at camp.  And it would have worked too, had his sister not mentioned it.  But a brief slip got some people curious, and soon Evan felt like he was a circus animal, performing tricks for campers who asked.
  • Face Claim: Graham Phillips

janghye-yung  asked:

Prompt #99 for the dialogue sentence starters! I hope your muse comes back soon! - JT

“I can’t do this anymore…not with you…”

Jack freezes as he tugs his pants back on and looks cautiously over at Gabriel. His (ex?) husband is back in his full Reaper regalia, but the sight of that isn’t what make his stomach churn with fear. No, it’s just those few simple words. 

“You can’t do what anymore?” Jack asks cautiously, praying that Gabriel doesn’t mean what he thinks he does.

“I can’t keep fucking you on the side! I can’t keep pretending to hate you!” Gabriel snarls, taking an aggressive step towards Jack. “I can’t keep sending you back to Overwatch, knowing you may die and I won’t find out until after it happens.”

“Then come back to Overwatch!” Jack snaps back at him, repeated a constant plead. “Come home! Jesse’s there. Ana’s there. Fareeha, Lena, Reinhardt, Torb. Our family is there. You’ve said it yourself. You’re nearing the end of what you can even use Talon for. The only reason you are is because you’re trying to figure out what to do about Widowmaker.” 

“I know,” Gabriel says softly, clenching his fists. “I know! If Widowmaker hadn’t vanished last…” he trails off, his comm unit suddenly beeping.

“Oi! Reaps! Answer,” orders a familiar voice. 

“What do you want Sombra?” Gabriel growls, answering it even as he returns Jack’s confused look. The Mexican hacker knew where he was, why is she…

“I found Widowmaker, or should I say, Odette,” Sombra almost sounds as if she’s grinning. “She broke her conditioning entirely! Earlier today Talon made a move to grab that architech, Satya Vaswani? A mysterious figure calling themselves Odette rescued her and it’s obvious who she really is.”

“So she’s beyond Talon now,” Gabriel sighs with relief. 

“Si. And looks like she picked up a real cutie to play hero with. Tell Abuelo 76 to expect Odette and Symmetra at Overwatch soon. I’ll be slipping out of Talon soon, and you should too,” Sombra adds. “I think things are about to get a bit…chaotic.”



“So…looks like I’ll be listening to you for once,” Gabriel says. 

“Looks that way.”

The Ball-Tailed Cat is a Fearsome Critter that often gets confused with the Dingmaul and the Silver Cat. The Critter is said to reside in specific counties within Oregon and Pennsylvania. It is a naturally aggressive creature that has learned to hunt in the trees. The Cat is about as big as a wildcat but with a large ball a the near-end of its tail. Using this ball to hunt, the Critter leaps out of tree it hides in and jumps upon its unsuspecting prey - when landing on the future meal, the Cat will pound it into the ground with its tail. It is also used during mating season to attract females by rattling against dead logs. 

anonymous asked:

I played with the /best/ team ever for a few games. Everyone fluctuated their roles, but they wanted me to stay as mercy. They thanked me for heals and rezzes and voted for me at the end of matches. The /never/ asked for healing and always came to me for healing, and they didn't try and tell me when to ult like most ppl.I eventually had to go but I absolutely loved that team, especially the bastion who got on mic and thanked me for rezzing them near the end so he could use his ult and get potg.