the last thing are now gloves!

anonymous asked:

Can somebody PLEASE give scarves and gloves to the Japanese kids? First, Yuzuru was down with the flu, now it's Sakamoto with the same damn thing. Last thing we need is another sick Japanese rep for Worlds *knocks the unpainted wood*

Some get the flu, others get stress fractures  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4

Guild Wars 2 Fashion Week: Jari

This bab is only one day old. I made him last night! (I also finally got around to making the goggle/scarf combined thing from drytop? Ohh boy I’m lazy)
But yes. Have a new Norn! Now my other wont feel so odd being surrounded by Asura…

Head: Adventurer’s Mantle
Shoulder: Council Watch Shoulderpads
Chest: Glorious Brigadine
Hand: Vigil’s Honor Gloves
Leg: Carapace Leggings
Feet: Vigil’s Honor Boots
Back: Advanced Spinal Blades
Weapon: Rifle
Dyes: Midnight Yew, Vintage Silver, Charcoal, Mint Breeze

10

In Trespasser, Sera’s Cabinet of Wonder Whose It Was becomes Sera’s Past and Now Things. This is what her list says if you marry her. I thought it was extremely adorable. 

If you want to read it all together, I typed it into a list. All 553 words of it follows.

Keep reading

ejr-horselady  asked:

The Gowther outfit change I spoke of is chap 195 vs 205. Jacket vs vest, gloves vs no gloves, short shorts vs err... longer shorts or pants? Not sure which on that last one.

You’re right.
But he actually wears the exact same clothes as he does in 205 in 175 where it was first revealed that Meliodas was the leader of the Commandments. I guess he just has different outfits. Well, he is a doll and dolls usually are… somewhat fashionable. And even now Gowther likes dressing up. It might be just his thing

It was both a dreadful place and the home to many encounters, both for good and the worst. Yet for the first time she was hesitating, the steps being so close, the rotting smell of rum and more suspicious substances in the air hanging low as she halted her walk. To think that once she had been but a naive young lass visiting the place over and over for little reason, to now being a mother and an experienced woman in the eyes of many. What would they think if they had seen her before? Those that had remained in her life despite everything that had taken place. 

Why had she even decided to do such a daring thing in the first place? There was just one simple reason for the self doubt and nervousness that going into the Quicksand brought, and it was the lack of gloves covering her hands. The scant currents of air being welcome to her skin at last, but what relief it brought, it also made up in the view anyone would have. Burn scars everywhere, from the tips of her fingers, to nearly the end of her forearm. She had never been one to admit what had happened, and she was in no way ashamed of them, they were proof of his protection of her, and how she was still alive in exchange for him. But it still brought a sting to her heart when looking at them, the glares she would receive sometimes being a bother. Not to mention her fancy for gloves already.

Yet times were changing, a newborn that would never feel the gentle caress of a mother without cloth being between them. Perhaps the wish to touch, to feel the true warmth of people’s hands and gestures had been the reason for her to take the confinement of her gloves off for once. 

I got tag by @moon-and-ash Thanks!

🌟Sign: Pisces
🎈Height: Human size
✨Last thing i googled: New Vegas white glove society
🎶Favorite music artist: WOMBO
📺 last tv show: Black Sails
👗What am i wearing right now:  Killstar pulli and dark houndstooth jogging pants
🌸when did i make my blog: October 2015, at least this one
🐻Do i have any other blog: my art blog @official-vatermoerder and my fandom blog @german-angstfest and some other blogs but unimportant. Only there to collect stuff,
❤Why did i choose my url: Its a wordplay
🎀gender: male
🍙pokemon team: dunno
🍕Favorite colors: blue, red and gold
💤 average hrs of sleep: I try to get 7-8 hours unless depression decide otherwise
🐶Favorite character: Deadpool
🐨Dream job: Pirate or Otter

I tag @lishka-tigr @elvenbeard @iio-in-thedas

George Harrison and Ravi Shankar playing sitar, India, September/October 1966; photograph courtesy of and © The Harrison Family.

“When I went to India, I had a desire to know about the yogis. So it was like a parallel interest for me: Indian music and the yogis of the Himalayas were both high on my agenda at that time - and they still are now. The great thing for me is that I latched onto that when I was twenty-two years old, and it’s been consistent right through for the last thirty years. A lot of people might have thought it was a trendy thing - and for some people it was only a trend - but for me, I knew it had a certain intensity, and there was certainly intensity to my desire to pursue that.” - George Harrison, Raga Mala [x]

last fittings before i depart to Poznań for Pyrkon Fantasy Festival C: to sum it up - it’s been a long and a very troublesome process of making this costume, there are things i still don’t like and would change (but for now i’m like 100% done with it), but overall i guess it looks quite presentable. i hope photographers will do their “magic” and the final photos (after retouching and stuff) will look astonishing.

*there’s no belt because i’ve got it already dismantled for packing, and ofc i’d not have been able to take a photo with the gloves on ;p*

now i have to find a new project to work on, i like to keep my hands constantly busy ;p

Random convention memory that gets funnier as OPM gets bigger and bigger.

Last July I saw a Saitama cosplayer. Bald cap, yellow suit, red gloves, the whole nine yards. But it was waaaay before the anime came out, and I had only heard enough whispers about OPM to kind of know the concept. I wasn’t even sure I really recognized the character correctly. So I went up to the cosplayer and asked if he was that One Punch Man guy.

And the poor guy sounded so relieved and he goes “tHANK YOU! Literally all day everyone I’ve met thinks I’m Aang.”

DA:I ficlets: Worse and Better

Trespasser fics!

I wrote the first of these while I was playing, before I got to the last segment where things get a lot worse. The second I wrote after finishing.

1. Worse

Her hand’s been getting worse.

Nobody says anything, but Branwen thinks they all know it. She wears gloves all the time now, has for over a year, ever since the sickly green glow became visible all the time, darkening the veins in her skin, pulling the skin itself taut.

It hurts, too. It hurts so constantly that she forgets about the pervasive ache until someone asks about it, or it recedes for a moment. Sometimes it gets worse, and feels like the bones in her hand are coming apart. She wasn’t raised to complain. Her mother used to jolly her out of her childhood sulks and remind her that there’s always someone somewhere carrying a heavier load.

There have been poultices and salves and spells and foul-tasting potions, but none of the remedies anyone has devised have worked.

Keep reading

at the club: ch

A/N: this one was requested, for a tense scene at a club, so hopefully you like what I’ve done with it!


“Alright, there you go miss, enjoy.” You nodded at the security guard outside of the club and followed your friend inside. 

You didn’t really want to be here: you failed your last midterm, you were late for your lab, and your credit card got declined at the grocery store. The last thing you wanted to do was go to a sweaty club on a Friday night with the zero dollars you now had. But your friend Lena insisted you go with her, as well as helping her finish the vodka that she had left in her apartment and paying your cover at the door. So here you were in your nicest…well most appropriate outfit for a club. You had on a black dress with long sleeves and high cut neckline, but it was skin tight and fit you like a glove, which left little to the imagination. Stopping mid-thigh it was long enough to not expose your entire ass, but also short enough to show enough leg. With 4 inch nude heels your feet were already killing, but Oh my god it’s so worth it you look hot!!! in the wise words of Lena. The club was packed and the line at the bar was wicked long, so you ditched your coat at the coat check and yelled in Lena’s ear that you were going to explore a bit and that you’d find her later. You wandered around the club, squeezing through people and getting knocked about a fair bit. It was dark and the music was loud, and it seemed like there was a commotion starting in the corner of the club. Of course, typical drunk partygoers causing a scene, you thought rolling your eyes. Making your way to the dance floor you began to swing your hips to the music. Feeling the bass reverberate through the floor, you closed your eyes and swung your head back, not thinking of your shitty day anymore, only feeling the music and letting yourself enjoy the night. 

Feeling a pair on hands on your waist from behind caused you to open your eyes, but you just shrugged and went along with it, allowing whoever was behind you to press themselves into your back. After grinding for a while, their hands gripped your waist harshly, so much so that you were sure there would be light bruises there in the morning, so you managed to shake them off and lose yourself in the crowd. You decided to find Lena, but could spot her anywhere. Probably with some guy in the bathroom, smirking at your friend’s well known habits. You sighed and headed towards the bar, taking a seat as someone left and waited for the bartender to make their way down to where you were. You took note of the other people around you: a couple making out against the wall (make that several coupes), a group of girls doings shots, a very attractive stranger sitting beside you, and a few singles here and there. A person slid up beside you. 

“Hey there sexy, let me buy you a drink.” You turned and saw a tall guy with sandy hair tied into a pitiful bun at the nape of his thick neck. He had on a blue button down with the collar popped. Oh good god, you though, internally screaming, who is this clown? “It’s the least I could do after you danced with me, a sexy thing like you has got some moves.” Your eyes widened, now realizing in horror that this buffoon was the one behind you. You tried to turn away and focus on something else but that only made him lean in closer to you. “So,” he said, still cockily trying to strike a conversation, “where’d you learn to dance like that sweetheart?” You rolled your eyes before turning to him. “Listen, I’m not really in the mood right now, so thank you for the compliment of coming over, but I’m not interested.” 

You turned swiftly and prayed that that would be the end of the conversation. But he wasn’t finished. “Who broke your heart so badly for you to shut down this way, let me show you how a man can treat a woman, honey.” This made you laugh, who does this guy think he is? 

“Okay, you’re clearly not listening here. I am not interested in you” you said slowly, talking to him in slow motion. “And just because I find your mere presence off-putting does not mean that I am broken in any way shape or form. Now I suggest you crawl back to the Jersey Shore or whatever sewer you came from before I make things really difficult for you, okay?” His mouth hung open while he stood there stunned. “And a real man accepts when the answer is no, so why don’t you find me after your balls drop, okay honey? Have a nice night.” And with that you turned around for the last time, and breathed a visible sigh of relief when he left. The guy beside you chuckled and shook his head, and you heard him mutter unbelievable. You turned to him and glared, oh if looks could kill, you thought, with your patience worn down to nothing. He caught your eye and looked surprised at your unimpressed expression, but you turned away before he could say anything annoying. 

Thankfully the bartender had made her way down by now, so you put your request for a shot of the strongest thing you have. Nodding understandingly, she turned to get the order of the guy beside you before getting your drinks. You didn’t notice him pull up his seat beside you until he loudly cleared his throat. “What” you said, not even looking at him. “Nice to meet you as well, I’m Calum,” he said sarcastically, taking note of your sour tone. “Well excuse me for not being over the moon when the asshole that called me unbelievable decides to chat me up,” you bit back, turning to glare at him again. When you did you saw a very kind looking face. Dark coffee coloured hair that was short on the sides but the longer section at the top looked effortlessly tousled. When he heard you his expression immediately softened, “I’m really sorry,” he said shaking his head slightly, “I wasn’t calling you unbelievable, I was referring to the guy you were telling off.” He was so sincere in his apology that you softened, and offered an apologetic smile. “Which was quite spectacular by the way, you sure have a creative way with words” he laughed. 

“I’m sorry for being so quick to make assumptions” you said, reaching out your hand, “And I’m sorry for calling you an asshole….I’m Y/N.” Calum took your hand and shook it, and as the bartender put your drinks in front of you he was quick to cover them both, “I got them, thank you” he said to her. You raised your eyebrows at him. “What? Clearly you’ve had a rough night, the least I can do is buy you a drink.” he said, explaining himself. Smiling you raised your glass and waited until he did the same, “Here’s to you, thank you for turning my shitty night around!” With that you both downed your drinks. He looked at you a moment before reaching out his hand, “You wanna dance?” 

“Yes,” you said coyly, giving him a smile, “I really do!”


A/N: I hope that was okay! request stuff here