this coloring is not my proudest moment


Alternate Title: 50%* of Figure Skating History in the Last Decade 

(*) conservative estimate
Red = current world records (as of May 2017)
This list is not exhaustive, many wonderful things he achieved have been left out due to lack of space and a desire to keep this post within not-too-extremely unreasonable length
This list will need to be updated in due time

Still alive for the moment. Just in case something happens, I at least want to get up one of my proudest pieces of artwork to date. I’ve been working on this for the past couple of weeks and plan on adding it to my redbubble eventually, once I’m done getting the friggin colors sorted out. (Coloring is evil.) 

Fingers crossed on there being more to come, but at least the file is saved on a cloud, so if this computer disappears a la hurricane, I’ll still have the file handy. 


Cherry Blossom: How’d it go with Nik?

Roz: It didn’t.

Cherry Blossom: Oh.

Roz: How am I supposed to give her an apology if she won’t talk to me long to hear one?

Cherry Blossom: She must be furious.

Roz: I messed up, like, real bad.

Cherry Blossom: What could you have possibly done-

Roz: Called her a moron for liking this other guy…

Cherry Blossom: You called her that?

Roz: Like I said, I messed up real bad.

Cherry Blossom: You must have really hurt her feelings.

Roz: Not my proudest moment.

anonymous asked:

Does Fran like a certain florist?

|| Oh boy does he ever.

Ahh, good ol’ awkward pacing, we meet again.
I don’t do comics for a reason.

ALSO HOW DO YOU DRAW A SCREAMFACE WHHHH @ask-florist-antonio  looks possessed im not proud of this one enough to even consider coloring ||

anonymous asked:

You're a fucking misogynist. Lena's a hero and if you don't think so you can go set yourself on fire.

Right. I’m misogynist?


And Lena’s a hero? This is your hero?

You want to bow down and worship her, you go right ahead. I would never stick by a homophobia, racist, abusive person like her. 

anonymous asked:

What makes Lena Dunham white feminist devil?

According to yourfaveisproblematic:

Hello there, I’m John from Malaysia. Currently working as a lawyer but having a passion for photography and travel. I use a Nikon D90. I always believe that it is not the equipment that defines the photographer but the ‘eye’ of the photographer itself, the ability to spot something of beauty to him or her and capture it the best way possible to express to the view of the photograph. My style is more towards street, photojournalism and a little bit of portraiture.

One of my proudest moments in photography would be winning a prize in the National Geographic Young Photographers Award 2012. In my tumblr you will find photos of my travels which include Siem Reap, Bali, Hanoi, Paris, Seoul, Bangkok, Angkor Wat, Frankfurt, Phnom Penh and last but not least my beloved country Malaysia.

Feel free to visit my tumblr at

Invade my privacy
  • 1. What's your first & middle name?
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Mate’s Property - Castiel Imagine

Originally posted by magneticcas

Well I hope this shit hurt you in the ovaries as much as it hurt me. 

(first person view.)

“Cas?” I call out into the broken midnight air. I could hear nothing echoing around me in the empty bunker room. Crickets did not chirp, Sam and Dean had fallen asleep at least they went to to their room, no hustling wind to make up a smooth melody with the branches out side. It was three feet of concrete between me and the outside world. And I had began to wonder if Cas can even hear me. Because I heard nothing; I felt nothing in this shallow place. 

He is known for turning of his angle radio every once in a while, and for being so wrapped up in one subject that he could not hear the calls of ones who longed to see him.

My mind drifts as I close my heavy eyes, turning on my side to smother my face in the warm pillow. Taking in the fresh scent of the linen, I finally let the first tear fall. 

“If your listening,” I whisper into the air, pulling away from the pillow and sitting up. “Please come home; come back to me Cas.” I whisper, letting my legs dangle on the side of my bed. “Please, I need you.” I add, wiping away the tear of pain, I gather up the small lap blanket that fell on the floor and drape it over my shoulders. I slip on my glasses, needing to take a break from the silence. It makes me feel empty, the constant tune of nothingness. I wipe away and evidence that I was crying and make my way out of my room. 

I quietly find my way around the bunker, sneaking pass Deans door, which he left open. His lights were off and nothing came from his room like mine. I wonder if he is asleep right now. 

I make it past his, but run into Sam. 

“What are you doing awake?” He catches me from my almost fall, saving my ass from a very painful fall. “I-I Uhh.” I stutter, feeling my cheeks burn. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m heading down for tea.” I state into the cold air. 

He nods his head, pushing away his brown locks. “Uh, want to come?” I ask raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah-yeah sure, I guess I could use a cup of tea.” He mumbles. I’m taken away by his shortness of words, because Sam has been very off lately. “Whats wrong? I noticed that you haven’t had much sleep.” I state, linking my arm through his. We slowly descend down the stairs, making our way through the library. 

“I’ve just been having bad dreams lately. Nothing too bad.” He says.

“Has it um, been about-Oh no. Lucifer has been long gone. He is just crazy talk now. But I feel regular again, with regular nightmares.” He states. 

“I’m only half relieved Sam. However hearing the not so normal thing I could live without.” I state.

“Why is that?” He quizzes, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re Sam freaking Winchester, there should be nothing normal about you.” I state, pulling away from him to grab the small kettle from out under the counter. 

“Besides, you’re much less boring being, I don’t know, not normal?”

“How so?” He takes a seat, resting his chin on his palm. 

“Well, you geek out over books a-” he gives me a sour expression, “Which isn’t a bad thing, I do it too, I just enjoy geeking out together.” I smile, filling up the kettle, setting it on the warm burner. 

“And you always have fascinating things to say, you’re just like a walking google account to us.” He chuckles softly. 

“I could say the same for you.” He brushes his hair away. 

“Yeah but you have a couple more years on me.” I laugh as he rolls his eyes. I pull out two mugs and some tea bags, preparing everything. When the water is hot enough, and small talk was just picking up, we could both hear wings flutter. 

“You made a house call?” Sam asks not surprised at all. 

I blush, “I needed guidance from a certain little angel.” I guess the brothers did not know about us. We didn’t particularly try to hide what we had going on, we just kept to our selfs. Our strange hours made it hard on us, but not hard keeping things on the low in front of the boys.

“Next time call Yoda, Cas worries me some times.” Sam states, picking up his warm tea cup. 

“I can hear you Winchester, with being a Angel and all. Nothing is safe.” We hear him state from the other room. 

Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Like that time in the 10th grade you decides to sneak out for, what was her name again?” Cas starts. The younger brother blushes. “Castiel I’m giving you two seconds to stop digging in my brain before I pluck everything you got.” Sam starts walking away as I giggle. Sam starts his journey back to his room as I felt a familiar body against mine, hands holding my waist gently. 

“You heard me.” I turn around in his grip, leaning my back against the counter.
“I always do.” He leans in, pecking my lips softly. My knees go weak, and I get so caught up that I steal another kiss from him. 

“Are you here on official angel business or did you just drop by for me?” I ask, jumping up on the counter top, pulling him in between my legs, locking my ankles behind him. 

“As of, 1 hour and 34 minutes ago, I decided to take a leave of absence. Its only temporary though.” In his features I could see discomfort, his eyes looking red and irritated. His scruff is long, almost to a beard point, and his hair a devils mess. 

“You look like you’ve seen the devil himself Cas, whats wrong?” I’m only now starting to take in his features, seeing that his eyes didn’t seem to shine the bright blue his is known for.

“Nothing is…” He leans in, kissing me gently, his head cocked to the right. My fingers slip through the small curls that where forming at the base of his neck. “…Wrong baby.” He mumbles against my lips. “Just missin’ you is all.” He hushes against me, his forehead leaning on mine. 

“Why are you so?… So hairy?” I laugh softly, pulling my fingers through his messy mop and then through his beard. “If I didn’t know any better I would say its almost as you’ve given up on personal hygiene and shaving.”  I state matter of factly. 

He just rolls his eyes, leaning in for another kiss. “Just have had better things to do than worry about my beard.” There is something he is not telling me.
I hand him over my cup of tea, letting him take a sip. I almost notice that his shoulders slump automatically, some stress that he had cooped up left. “You humans have weird stress relieving things.” He sighs.

“Cas what’s bothering you?” I ask. 

“Noth-The truth Castiel.” He knows 

I’m not playing because I made aware of his full name, not joking.
His eyes dart around the bunker kitchen, and suddenly the scenery changes in a blink of an eye. From the kitchen to my room. 

I am laying on the bed, and Cas is standing, his features looking at ease to be in such a familiar place. “Last time I was in here- we where fighting and you left.” I finish his statement. His eyes glue to the floor. “Not my proudest moment, along a lot other unmentionable.” His slowly begins to strip off his coat, letting it fall to the floor. His tie and blue pressed shirt soon falls off his body too, showing his light olive skin color. His body is breathtaking and last time we have been this close was a long time ago. 

“Cas what are you not telling me?” I call. He doesn’t answer, but turns around. His wings flexed from his back, spanning out to immense proportions. His left wing looks beautiful, glowing bright and seemed to be just as strong as the last time I saw them. His right one how ever, is crumpled up, his veins running a bright red under the feathers, the wing skin glowing a bright pink that didn’t begin to look healthy. 

Some feathers had fallen off, and dried blood replaced its stump. He flaps it momentarily, groaning out in pain as he swings it to cover his shoulders. “I was out scoping for demons trying to come after me. Kill them before they killed me. They casted a spell which didn’t completely hurt me. It knocked me down for a few days after I escaped. My feathers began falling out yesterday, and I presume the spell they chanted was one created by evil himself. If I’m correct, they meant harm on my wings; casting them to make all my feathers fall out.” He states. 

I shoot up from the bed, curling around to meet the front of him. “All? Like y-you wont have wings any more?” I ask, tears gathering in my eyes. Seeing my angel broken-well it made me broken. 

“No need to cry,” his finger wipes away the tear that started its journey down my cheek. “They will regrow back, but its a painful process and it just makes me tired.” He states. His hand settles around my jaw, bringing me in closer. Our lips meet softly, and I felt his warmth around me. He made me stop feeling sad, with his angel powers. I somehow forgotten the need to cry and feel bad for the featherless angel in front of me. 

“Cas make it stop,” I tell him. “Make me sad again, don’t take that away from me.” I state firmly. 

He catches a short breath. “No, I don’t want pity from you.” He turns to walk away from me, but I snatch his hand. “Castiel, I demand you to give me back what is mine, now.” I use a direct tone, pulling him closer to me. His blue eyes look upon me, glittering with tears. “Then don’t cast your pity and sorrow onto me, I don’t need it nor deserve it.” Within a second, tears stream down my face, and I felt pity, nothing but pity and sadness that some half dick demon blazed his angel feathers. 

“C-can I mend to them? I want to help Cas.” I whisper. 

“No, no can do.” He pulls away from me, taking a seat on my bed shaking his heat.

“What? Why?” My voice breaks. 

“Wing touching is exclusively for mates, a priority of loving and willing person. Property to the one who hold me and my heart in heavy times.” He sighs.
I blink away my tears, taking a step to him. “T-then let me help you find your  mate Castiel. Let me help you find her so she can fix your wings.” I say selflessly. Even though it pained me; I wanted to help him, even if it meant giving up the angel I’ve fallen for. 

“No, I can’t just go fetch my mate whenever I need her. And besides, I’ve already met her, I don’t want to put her through the burden of fixing me up while I heal. I’ve already asked too much of her.” He says, reaching back to scratch, groaning when he scratches too hard for relief, pulling a group of bloody feathers out. 

“Oh Cas!” I run to him, dropping on my knees between his legs, “Please we have to get her.” I rest my head on his knees feeling tears fall. “Your bleeding so bad, we need her, you need her.”

Tears kept falling as I watch him try his best to stretch his wing out, seeing him double in pain, gripping onto my shoulder as he shakes it out, more feathers falling on my bed, blood starting to matte his top layer.  

“Besides, we wouldn’t have to fetch her at all when the woman I love is crying before me, weeping at my pain. I would be asking too much to have you help me.” He whispers while still doubled over. “I’ve fetched you one to many times to mend things for me.” I reach up, grabbing his cheeks. I could not form words, my mouth going dry as the information he just provided me shook me to the core. Me? His mate? Castiel loving me when we haven’t even put a label on us or anything. Our many casual hookups and time spent together didn’t mean that we were mates. Or together. 

“Its been more than just hook ups and our time spent together. We truly bond, you can’t see that. Our souls have been separated for a long time, and when you healed me all those other times, they finally became familiar, they crossed paths and woke up, and clung together tightly. That’s why I’m most powerful around you, and you ache so much when I’m gone. The headache that you have been having and not telling anyone about, is your soul calling out for me, they didn’t take it lightly when they meant love is ugly and hurts.” He speaks softly, his pain subsiding.

“Cas please, just do this for me. I-I’m your mate, like you said this is my priority.” I could see his pain peak up again as he folded his wing around his arm. I felt the soft strokes his feathers left when they brushed against my skin, and it felt, excuse my wording, but heavenly. 

“My wings give me more than just the ability to go places, but they help give me power, when people believe in angels with wings, we get stronger. And when angels meet their soulmates, their wings burn hot because they are working over time." 

I question him, "What do you mean by that?”

“Its like you, believing in my every second every day. My wings stay strong and healthy. But the spell has wea-CAS! Just shut up and please let me help you!” I stand up, pulling him to his feet. “Just let me help.” I whisper into his lips, kissing softly. His hands rest gently on my waist, and my heart flutters softly. He steps away and rests back down on my bed, stomach first. I straddle his lower back, seeing where his wings met his shoulders; they where crusted with blood and grey substance. 

“D-do I just clean them?” I ask, reaching for the red area. 

“I-I don’t know.” He mumbles. So much help. 

But in seconds, it felt like angel 101 came crashing into me. I felt like I just read an entire book on how to heal a broken wing, how to stitch it back up. I get up and gather some cloths and a small bowl to hold cold water in, knowing that warm water was not good for the pores. I begin on the skin that connect his self to the wing, gently wiping away all the clots and grey debree. I run my cold fingers along the spine of his damaged right wing, hearing him groan and cry out in pain. I saw his fingers gripping tight at the sheets below us, his teeth digging into the memory foam. 

“Cas just, try not to think about it.” I whisper, leaning in to kiss the base of his neck while continuing to run my fingers along his long feathers. 

“Yeah, just try not to think about my severely hurting wings. It feels like they have been torched off.” He mumbles, followed by a moan of pain. 

“I’m so sorry baby.” I cry, cleaning at the blood around damaged spots. Its was like thinking hair, but thinning feathers. Completely bald on some spots and bloody. At the base of his wing, was a little gland that held oils to protect the small hairs, which I somehow just found out. I rubbed the small bud, hearing him whimper out. “T-that feels so good.” His back arched lower into the bed, and I dipped down with him. “D-don’t stop.” I feel like rubbing this gland was satisfy him more than anything. “Sounds like an Angel porno in here.” I laugh to myself as I gathered the oil it produced and began rubbing it softly on the swollen nubs that once held together a feather. 

It seemed to be a instant relief to him as he sighed, like putting aloe on a sun burn. “That feel so good baby.” He whispers. I kept at this, rubbing the gland and spreading the oil until his whole wing was greased and smooth with oil, catching the light and shining.

“I-I feel bad for asking bu-Yes, I will.” I whisper, reaching over to the other wing, and began giving it the same treatment, covering the whole span in oil. When I was done, I massaged what was left on my hands into his shoulders, leaning down to kiss all along his neck as I did so. Strangely, his oil smelt amazing. It was like a natural musk, and I could not get enough of it. 

In a brief second, the scenery changed around me, and now I was laying underneath Cas, both of us stripped down to nothing. I snake my arms around his neck, seeing his eyebrows no longer pinched together in pain. “H-how did you know all of that?” He asks. 

“I don’t know, its like it just came to me.” Is state. He leans his head down onto mine, his eyes closing as he drew in breath. His cheeks tinted a bright red color, “T-Thank you. It felt… Words can not describe how it felt.” He adds. I drag my hands down his chest smoothly, “It was nothing Castiel.” His eyes flicker open in a drop of a dime.

“Why do you call me that? Why use such mockery of my name?” He ask. I knew that he did not like me calling him by his full name; in which he insisted that only I could call him by Cas, confessing that he loved the way it sounded coming out if my mouth. Also admitting that his heart skipped when I did, something that I just now realized must be a mate thing.

“Because I love you Castiel, so much.” Instate in a serious tone, trailing my hands sown farther. It wasn’t like Cas wasn’t going to be thrown around alot tonight, we both had much more to look forwards too.

“I love you to angel.” He kisses me roughly, his teeth pulling at my bottom lip. 

“So much that it hurts.”

And it did hurt, because that’s what happened when an angel falls in love with his mate; something that rarely happened; seeing as angels could not love anyone because they where made to love everyone, and secondly, because they where forced apart from there mate forever, damned by the King of Hell for eternity, because he was the one who casted the angels away from their mates, for he could not find his while trapped in his cage.

Last Call

A little drabble that continues the scene at Granny’s in 5.02. Hook and Belle have had a bit more to drink…


He tossed his head back and downed the amber-colored liquid. Wasn’t rum, but wasn’t too bad either. Granny had served it from her stash that he was certain only the two of them knew about.

He lifted his eyebrow at her, requesting another.

“I think you’ve had enough, Captain.” She motioned to the tiny brunette slumped on the counter next to him. “I know she has.”

He nudged her. “Belle. Belle!”

“Shu-up,” she mumbled.

“I need to get you home, love.”

She raised her head, eyes bleary. “Do you remember when you shot me?”

So, she wasn’t too far gone, after all.  “Aye. Not my proudest moment.”

“It hurt.”

“I suppose it did.”

She managed to push herself upright and fix her gaze onto his. “You know what? All this Dark One stuff hurts worse.”

“Aye.” He’d gladly lose his other hand to get Emma back.

He rose, offering his arm, which she accepted. She wobbled somewhat, but managed to keep her balance in her high heels.



“For what I did to you back then, I’m truly sorry.”

She looked him over, and a crooked smirk appeared. “And your heart’s not rotten,” she said.

No, it wasn’t. Not anymore.