they now know my ear complex

Not A Bad Thing ~ Part Six

Originally posted by xehun

Fairy-tale & AU Series Index

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Word Count: 4.4K

Errors. Please excuse and ignore them.

-Okay this is my 3rd time re-posting this part. If it is STILL cut off half-way through, let me know! 


I stood there, with my voice caught in my throat. I didn’t miss the way Sehun’s face scrunched up in thought. His eyes darted from me to Eun Ji, who was still staring at me.

“I don’t think so.” I almost croaked, my smile falling slightly. I’m feigning ignorance, staring at Sehun with questioning eyes.

“No, no. I’ve seen you somewhere before.” Eun Ji pushed looking at Sehun, “How long have you two been together now?”

Sehun was a bit taken back by Eun Ji’s seriousness in her question.

“It’s been 2 months since we met.” I answered for Sehun, “I don’t think we’ve met. What was your name again?”

“Eun Ji.” She stated, glaring at me. This was expected, and I wasn’t surprised. It seems that Eun Ji is still stuck at Sehun’s hip. Her feels haven’t faded and she still wants to keep a tight grip on Sehun. It’s not clear if her personality has improved like Sehun’s has.

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Psyche’s Emergency Commissions

I know, third time, but hopefully this time I’ll actually get lucky and be commissioned. If you want to know the main reasons this is an ‘emergency’ commission, you can read this post.

Thanks to College I can only do bust shots for now, but here are examples of my work and what I can do:

(Top two are Sketches, Bottom two are lineart)

For more examples my art tag is ‘myart’.


Sketch: £5

Lineart: £8

Any colour: + £3

All payments will be sent through invoices to keep PayPal off my ass.

I will do OCs with a written description and/or visual description provided.

I won’t do anything NSFW or animal, but features such as ears, horns, fangs etc. I will do.

Any complex patterns or tattoos may cost a little extra.

Please reblog this, even if you’re not interested, I beg you.

anonymous asked:

Imagine that the Avengers don't like Rhodey. Maybe they're mad about Iron Man 2, maybe they think he enables Tony to much, whatever. Cue Tony in the bizarre position of having to defend Rhodey for once in his life.

Steve had made them all swear they were going to be civil.  Clint had made the promise pretty damn reluctantly, but he had promised, and he was doing his best, but the fact remained that he did not like Colonel James Rhodes, and there was a reason SHIELD never tried sending him on undercover missions.

It wasn’t that Rhodes was just inherently unlikable.  He was actually pretty easy-going and charismatic, and in another life, Clint actually thought they’d get along pretty well.

But this wasn’t a different life, this was a life where Clint knew Tony Stark.  Therefore, he could not stand Colonel James Rhodes.

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anonymous asked:

For the femlock ficlet/writing thing: Autistic femlock getting overstimulated (sensory overload) while on a case or something, and Jane/John/Jo/Joan helps her calm down and is a good Allie :)

I don’t know who you are anon but I love you thank you for this request you are now my official favorite. :) 

Sherlock doesn’t know how it starts. One second, everything is fine—well, if not fine, tolerable. It’s usually just tolerable. No one, save John, seems to understand that. She just gets the fact that tolerable is the best that Sherlock can do. The world is constantly bleeding into her head, echoing around between her ears, making her shiver or causing a sort of ringing that wasn’t truly auditory. It’s more complex than that. It’s like a ringing that takes over every sense. 

One second, things are tolerable. But it’s as if the wrong people are all talking at the wrong time, and the body’s got the wrong smell about it, and too many people are touching her and it just—melts. Everything melts. She suddenly has the impulse to scream, to jump out the window so she can feel the sting of the cold air against her cheek. She runs her hands through her hair and gives it a gentle tug, just to feel a little bit of pressure, but it doesn’t help.

She freezes mid-deduction. She doesn’t know what to do or how to remove herself from the situation. She hasn’t lost her ability to reason, but it’s like an engine without anywhere to go, times a million. Tearing itself to pieces. Her brain and her thoughts are going nowhere and she’s stuck. Her fingers curl in on themselves and she starts pressing her nails, hard, against her palms, give herself something to focus on, but she’s a violinist (and a lesbian, ha) and they’ve been cut much too short for that. There’s no sensation there at all.

“Sherlock?” Greg is shaking her shoulder, and it does nothing for her. You’d think Greg would know by this point, but no. If anything it makes her worse. 

Suddenly there’s a gentle tugging on her sleeve, and John is there; she wasn’t even in the room before, where did she come from? But she’s tugging so gently that it feels less like a command, more like a suggestion, and Sherlock follows her out of the room and across the hallway. John shuts the door behind them, just shuts the door on the confused faces of the Scotland Yard and guides Sherlock to another room. Here the air is cool. 

“Are you okay? Breathe, Sherlock, breathe with me. In. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.” Sherlock breathes. Her fists unclench. “Do you want your coat?”


“I’ll go get it. Are you okay here by yourself?”


“Okay, I’ll stay here.” John stands stiffly, not touching Sherlock, but talking to her, softly. Her voice is kind.

Sherlock runs her hands through her hair again. John runs her through breathing again. 

“Are you okay?” 

Sherlock takes a deep breath. “I’m okay,” she says. “Give me a minute.” John starts turning the doorknob and is about to step out of the room. “Thank you.”  


This has got to be one of my favourite scenes in Defenders of Berk.

Why? Because Hiccup is actually portrayed realistically. Anyone who has tried to lead a team of uncooperative people/people who just won’t get along will easily understand what kind of frustration he is going through right at that moment. The best part is that Hiccup tries to keep it down from Stoick, but then fails miserably; He just explodes. Speaking someone who has gone through this moment before, I can say that this is perfectly normal behaviour for any person (I’m also pretty guilty of having ranted in a suspiciously similar manner before) . And this just makes Hiccup even more adorable and relatable to in my opinion. The writers aren’t trying to make him into a marty-stu with solutions to everything; they’re actually giving him flaws, difficulties, and complexities to deal with. Way too many shows have the main character being the Hero with quick fix for any situation, and I’m glad that Hiccup isn’t someone like that. He actively seeks help, takes advice, and relies on the people around him for problems he knows he can’t solve alone. And that brings me to my second favourite part of this scene. 

Stoick. The dad who is now able to give a listening ear to Hiccup, empathise with his problems(he probably had the same problems when he started out as chief), and encourage him with solutions. Recall that even during RoB, Stoick was busy doing things his way and ignoring a lot of Hiccup’s words. But now, when Hiccup loses his facade and starts ranting completely, Stoick is completely unsurprised; he already expected it. And he didn’t try to stop it. In fact, he simply gives Hiccup the time he needs to clear his head before responding. THIS is a father-son relationship at its greatest. Stoick, who originally couldn’t stand to be seen with Hiccup or to even listen to him, is now quietly sitting there, taking in whatever he’s saying (or ranting), and then advising him accordingly. Marvelous character development for Stoick, who isn’t trying to shout at Hiccup, boss him around, or anything; just listening and then answering. 

It’s nice to see that the writers are trying their best to give the characters realistic emotions and steady character development, and this is really what makes the Dragons TV series an amazing show to watch.

That bed never had a chance to grow cold after I left it for good, did it? I’m sure her head always fit snugly in that broken-in pillow but I remember stiff cotton and stubborn feathers and I remember working at you and I and I remember it not being effortless, not even one day out of every week. I remember sitting at a pottery wheel with desperate shaking hands, trying to make it all softer, all easier, and I remember it all crumbling at my touch. But I remember staying anyway, clay under my nails and shadows under my eyes, under the impression that it wasn’t really love unless it terrified you, wasn’t really worthwhile until it cemented itself as something just out of your reach: something you would always have to work at. I thought love was a labour and I wanted to pay my way.
It’s equal parts bizarre and depressing to miss a room inside a house you haven’t set foot in in years now. Sometimes I can spend weeks reflecting on the way the sunshine streamed through the blinds and hit the plaster, dancing around the shadows like grand piano keys, and knowing I’d crawl back inside those four walls and allow myself to be pinned between venomous fangs and murderous limbs just to play that old instrument by ear once again.
I’ll always be fascinated by complex and messy love, but I no longer wish it upon myself. It’s what you always had in mind for us, though, wasn’t it? Your gift to me was always the struggle: I saw so much of the wilderness during those uphill climbs that I could never hate you for making the trek necessary.
I wanted to spend a lifetime being sunkissed by your light but it dissipated when I got too close and I spent a year too long trying to tear it back out of you with those same unsteady hands— show me a lost battle and I will show you foolish determination, you should know this by now. I hope you know I always loved you more as a stranger than a lover, always resented the fact that your radiation could encompass the entire town with ease but always happened to miss the tiny slice beside you where the girl who needed it the most was.
—  a.f., “you’re back to being a stranger i can look at fondly. you’re back to being as beautiful as you were before we took it further.”