this is distinguished

New entry into the Beast Codex - Griffins!

Description
Griffins are powerful winged Beasts with attributes similar to that of a feline and a bird of prey. Although exceptionally adaptable, they are associated with the broad lowlands and canyons known as the Spryhawk Valley where most live in large groups called tribes. Griffins are renowned for their capacity, courage and ferocious nature which stems from their warrior-focused culture. As such, a Griffins role in Abodes are usually delegated to fighters, tacticians or scouts.


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explorerof-theunknown  asked:

(i just listened to it yesterday) A+E goes hard yo 2012 graham is a gift

Li saaaaaaame!!!! A+E is such an iconic album tbh and I don’t want to be brutally honest but:

2012 GRAHAM

IS THE MOST IMPORTANT GRAHAM BYEEEEEEE

(masterpost coming soon…)

The Fourth Time.

Steve x Reader

Word count: 2870

The first time he saw you, you were reading. Steve had not once visited the library for more than six decades, and yet somehow today he had chosen to. The very day, of course, in which you were leant against the shelves of DC’s largest public library, chewing on your pen while engrossed in a novel far too far away for Steve to distinguish. In short, looking nothing short of mesmerising.

It had been far too long since Steve had held a book. One of weight, anyway. After so long pining for a good read, it was somehow frustrating that he was a little more than distracted by the sight of you. He watches you intently from between books, studying the curve of your nose, the soft curl of your hair, the way your fingers brushed the pages lightly between turning them. It was maddening. Not least because, as a man of principle, he had never allowed himself to feel this way about anyone upon first glance.

He supposed that in hindsight he had held his gaze for too long, as something seems to indicate you to his fascination and your head snaps upward, your eyes meeting his own. He wishes he could have looked for longer. It wasn’t their colour that was particularly fascinating to him, nor the shape or set of them. There was something endlessly curious about your expression, betrayed only by the softness of your eyes. It was as if everything you hadn’t said yet was divulged simply in the look you gave him. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips and Steve looks away sharply, not altogether embarrassed, but not eager to be accused of staring either. His gaze seems to have unsettled you however, and you close the book you have been reading softly.

At the time, Steve thought it to be a sighting of opportunity. A singular event not to be repeated. He watches you disappear between the isles and, with a sigh, turns back to the novel he’s holding.



The second time he saw you, you were laughing. He hadn’t expected to see you again so soon, nor ever again for that matter. But there you were, laughing quietly with a friend between the stacks of books he had first seen you amidst. It had been a long day; his ribs still ached from the battering he had taken prior to coming to the library. He had hoped it would take his mind of the day’s mission and, as it would seem, it was going to be more than successful. Your laughter, quiet as it was, filled his veins with warmth which quelled the ache in his side and the buzzing in his head.  Scattered hushes silenced you and your friend as you chuckled between yourselves, garnering some sour looks from other library goers. Steve couldn’t have minded less if he tried. It had been over a week since had last seen you, and yet your aura was no less dim, no less diminishing of any rational thought he had had minutes before seeing you.

As he watches, you hand your friend another book and point to something within it, which is apparently worthy of another burst of giggles. This proves to be too much for the library attendant, who rises unceremoniously from the chair not too far away from you both and begins striding towards you. Sensing her anger, you scramble form the floor and drag your friend with you. To Steve’s dismay, straight in his direction. He barely had time to think before your friend overtook you and came careening towards him, barely avoiding him with a flick of her hips. You were not so lucky. Steve sees the recognition flash in your eyes the moment before you collide with him with a shocked yelp, sending both him and the book he was holding flying to the floor.

Several things cross Steve’s mind as his back hit the floor, although sadly, none of them formed any coherent thought he could translate into words. Your hands hit his chest with a thud, pinning him beneath you, and Steve considers how warm they are even through his t-shirt. He knows that you recognise him; the smirk on your lips is as telling as the look in your eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but finds himself cut short by his incapability to actually think of anything to say to you. You were captivating from a distance, but up close? It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe properly.

The librarian’s heals are clacking faster now, as if she’s afraid he and you were going to begin something untoward on the floor of the library. Steve would have liked to tell her he’d never dream of it, not least without taking you out first, and then dismisses the latter thought. Above him, you grin sheepishly and push yourself of his chest.

“Sorry,” you manage; before Steve watches you scramble away after your friend, once more disappearing between the stacks. The librarian spares him a particularly scathing look as she passes him by. Apparently, you and your friend are both a far more important target than he was. He waits several moments before standing, trying to shake the knot which had formed in his chest. Both intrigued and amused in equal measure, he follows the fray outside.

The librarian seems remarkably set on ensuring you and your friend leave the building. She’s still chasing you as you descend the steps outside the library, you tailing your friend by a few stairs. He watches you go, feeling a ripple of regret overtake him as he realises the one chance he had to say something to you had vanished in an instant. To see you a second time was unlikely, but to happen upon you a third? In a city as vast as DC? He would be waiting on a miracle. You spare him a look however, and glance over your shoulder to shoot him a grin. Your apology still hangs in the air as you disappear down the street, and Steve blinks slightly. “That’s alright,” he murmurs.



The third time he saw you, he told himself to be brave.  The very miracle he had been waiting on occurred on a Wednesday, not long after dark. It had been entirely by chance that you should be walking down the very same street as him, at the very same time, in the very same place. Washington DC was by no means a small city, and yet his world seemed to have compressed exponentially since he first laid eyes on you. Light of all colours dapples your skin from storefront windows as you walk, practically taking the air from his lungs. Which is inconvenient, given how fast he had walked to catch up with you.

In hindsight, Steve knew his actions were ridiculous. At the time, the loose change in his pocket seemed like a godsend. The woman who manned the stall on the street corner was a little more than flustered at his haste, but he was at risk of losing sight of you if he wasn’t fast. Purchase in hand, he jogged slightly to catch up with you once more. He was behind, however, and you disappeared inside a diner before he could reach you.

This was the third separate occasion upon which he had seen you, seemingly entirely by chance. Today, he told himself, he would be brave enough to say at least two words to you. He watches, heart in mouth, as you approach one of the tables in the diner. All he had to do was go inside, introduce himself, apologise for running into you at the library. Granted, you had run into him, but he couldn’t think of a better conversation starter. It was infuriating how much more simple this would be if it was still the 40′s. In his day, it would have been perfectly reasonable to introduce himself just for the hell of doing so. But it was not 1945, and things worked differently these days. Romance worked differently these days.

As it would seem, these days were not inclined to work in his favour. You slide into one of the diner booths, but not before a man stands to greet you, kissing you on the cheek as he does so. Steve’s hopes sink the moment his heart does. He turns away from the window, discarding the rose he had been holding into a trashcan next to him.



The fourth time he saw you, you could bear it no longer. You were not oblivious to the man you had first peaked a glance at in the library all those weeks ago, nor were you oblivious to the times since that you had run into him. You knew who he was, of course. These days it was hard not to. What you didn’t count on however, was how ridiculously attracted to him you would be in person. You had seen him on hundreds of news clips, articles, littering websites and front pages from here to Timbuktu. You had seen him save people in the news after the incident and admittedly, yes, you had always found there to be something about him you found attractive.

You had not imagined that to get any more distracting in person however, and oh, had you been wrong. The first time you had seen him, it could have knocked the breath out of you knowing he had been staring first. You’d had to leave the building to stop yourself from giggling like a schoolgirl. He was so much more real. The look you had imagined so many times reserved for someone else had been set on you. He was taller than you had expected, and even under that cap you always saw him in to disguise some part of his identity, infinitely more handsome.


The second time you had crossed paths was admittedly not your finest hour. You and your friend had intended to study that day, you really had, yet there was never much work to be done when you were with Abigail. How you had ended up straddling the Captain America in between the science-fiction and the crime, however, was a mystery to you. It had definitely not been unwelcomed. You had spent the rest of the week thinking about that moment and chewing your lip to suppress the shit-eating grin you wore almost perpetually.

The only thing which broke your mood all week had been the knowledge that you would most likely never see him again. To see him twice was an improbability. To see him a third time? In a city as vast as DC? You would be waiting on a miracle.


And then, predictably, your miracle came and went. Naturally, fate picked the most inopportune moment for you to see him again. It had been a monotonous week, in and out of work, up and down the steps of the library in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of him once more. Your paths never coincided, however. Not until then. There he was, over your date’s shoulder, stood outside that bloody diner. As you had said. Inopportune.

You hadn’t even met the man you dined opposite that night before that exact moment. You were not usually one for blind dates; that was more Abigail’s bag. In fact, she was the reason you were even there that night. She had organized it and you had let her, safe in the knowledge that you would never see your captain ever again. It seemed he had always been happy to lurk just in your peripheral, never actually saying anything to you, not even willing to make eye contact until you had collided with him that time in the library. It was ironic you supposed, that the one time he looked to be making a move he saw you with another man. Silently, you reminded yourself to bash your head off a blunt instrument when you got home, and watched as he dumped the flower he had been holding in the trash and walk away from you. The flower that had been meant for you.


You had to give it to fate however; it was giving it everything it’d got. Of all the places you had ever seen him, this was the most ridiculous. He was sat on the fountain opposite your bench in the park, doing his very best not to be caught staring. You say your bench, a bench, but you spent so much time on it with the books you borrowed from the library you counted it as your own. He had been reading as well; you had noticed that much when you passed him to sit down, just not that it was in fact him. Figures. You can’t help but smile and shake your head, this was becoming downright comical.

You stand, tuck the book into your bag, and walk toward him. If he notices, he doesn’t give you any indication, as he has had his eyes glued to his book ever since he noticed you stand. You halt in front of him and chuckle slightly.

“Are you ever going to talk to me?”

He looks up in surprise, a slight flush in his cheeks. God, his eyes were even bluer up close. It seemed impossible you had forgotten what they looked like, given that not a two weeks ago you had practically flattened him, your nose hovering just above his. He coughs slightly and tips his head back to look at you properly from under his cap. “Excuse me?”

“I always see you there, lurking around.”

He scoffs slightly and scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t lurk.”

“You do lurk!” You laugh at his scandalised expression. “But then you never talk to me. Am I so frightening?”

“No, I,” he huffs, flustered. His gaze is everywhere, awkwardly flicking between your face and the park behind you. His eyes do settle on yours eventually, making something flutter in your stomach. There’s a silence which stretches out for a few moments, both of you considering each other with curiosity. You glance at your feet and smile slightly.

“What you did to that poor rose was unforgivable.”

Now he really does look alarmed. “You saw that?”

You chuckle again. “Don’t be embarrassed. It was a lovely gesture.”

To his credit, he does manage to look slightly less pink at that sentiment. He doesn’t offer any reply however, as if words would fail him if he tried to. Instead he stands and pushes his hands into his pockets, his gaze on yours unbroken. The curious feeling in your stomach was refusing to subside, and his proximity was not helping. You wave your hand to your side in a vague gesture.

“Want to walk me home?”

He looks surprised. “Where is home?”

“A few blocks.”

There’s a pause. “Are you sure? I could be dangerous.”

You smile and tilt your head to the side as you consider this. “Are you?”

“Not to you.”

You laugh openly and for a moment as he looks concerned. “I mean-”

“It’s okay, I know who you are.” You shove your own hands into your pockets and indicate left with your chin. “Shall we?


Several things strike you as you walk. First, Steve Rogers is an incredible gentleman. It was clear to you his mannerisms were not 21st century by any means, and if you were honest, it was refreshing. Once you were both satisfied the other was not an axe-wielder and that your meetings had been chance alone, you became a little more comfortable. He inquired about a lot of things, beginning with your name and delving into the comical nature of your collision in the library.

Secondly, there was something instantly magnetic about him. Of course, you had only known him properly for half an hour by the time you reached your house, and yet in that time you could have sworn you had known him for years.


“Well, this is me.” You turn to smile at him. “Thank you for walking me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” He pauses for a moment to study your face. “It was my pleasure.”

You don’t mean to, but some part of you is aware you are looking at him expectantly now. He exhales, as if considering saying something, but then he just smiles tightly and gives you a nod. You huff in annoyance as he turns away, not moving from the spot outside your door. It’s almost amusing when he stops and turns back to face you, calling your name as if he had expected you to go inside.

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

You can’t help the happy laughter which escapes you as you bow your head incredulously.  “I’m free after eight.” You turn to jog up the steps to your front door, the grin you’re wearing practically splitting your cheeks.

“Wait.” Steve’s voice sounds confused from behind you. “You want to go out tonight?”

“Well we’re not getting any younger, Rogers.” You flash him a grin and step backwards into your house. “You can wait there if you want.”

Originally posted by thelongestridemovie

Notes: In hindsight, this probably would have been better as a 40′s AU but fuck it; I’ve written it now and I’m too lazy to change it. If you are well versed in romance movies, you may have realised that this was a dialogue insert from the ‘Longest Ride’ which, by the way, is very good. I’ve always loved the dialogue from that movie, especially in the 40′s scenes in the film, as it’s both endearing and funny at the same time. If you haven’t seen it yet, it’s on Netflix - give it a whirl. Also please let me know what you think of this, because while I love the dialogue, I hate how I wrote this and I can’t tell if it’s because it is actually shit or if I’ve just rewritten it so many times it makes me feel ill. Loveya.

Broken Heart

Soooo… I made this post a little while ago… and I’m gonna lie, I’m enjoying the reactions I’m getting from it. So I made it into a fully-fledged mud fic. Enjoy! (and by enjoy, I mean cry about it bc tbh this broke my heart a lil bit while writing it)

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Tove Jansson’s mother Signe Hammarsten-Jansson (1882-1970) was an unusual character for her time. She was from a distinguished clerical family and was the child of a pastor’s daughter and a court chaplain. Jansson later said that Signe’s family did not approve of her artist’ career and Per-Olov Jansson has said that their mother consireder surgeon as a profession. This was highly remarkable for a woman born of that time.

As a child, Signe was a wild girl. She was a great shooter and a brave horse rider. She also established Swedish girl scouts movement with two of her friends. She got her nickname “Ham” because she and her two friends were nicknamed after Noah’s sons from the Bible (Ham, Sam and Jafet). Ham was an independent spirit and traveled quite widely even as a working woman. She dreamed of becoming a real artist and was a skilled drawer as well as a professional drawing teacher.

During one trip to Paris, Ham met a Finnish sculptor called Viktor Jansson. This was her future husband and she soon followed him to his home country. Ham left behind the rich country of Sweden and her idyllic childhood home among all her relatives when she moved to Finland. At 1914, Finland was still part of Russia as the autonomous Grand Duchy of Finland. The country was comparably poor and in political turmoil because of the country’s growing interests to declare independence. So Ham was in for quite a change when she moved from her wealthy and secure life to this remote country. Yet Ham apparently never complained and instead became quickly accustomed to her role as a supportive and understanding wife.

Because sculptor’s wage is never secure, Ham was the main supporter of her family. She worked as a graphic artist and illustrator, greatly inspiring her daughter Tove. Tove’s ambition had always been to draw like her mother. One magazine Ham drew for was the satire magazine Garm which later employed Tove too. Ham worked hard until late in the night. Ham had been interested in sculpting when she was younger and was known to help her husband with his work, even sometimes bettering some of his pieces. Her first duty was however as a wife and mother, so like many women of ther time she had to keep her personal creativity and ambition limited. A wife could work to support her family but she would never truly be an artist and her husband’s career always came first. All the while Ham managed the entire household and raised her three children with love.

According to all stories about her, Ham was content and tirelessly gentle. It’s clear that her mother’s creative ability to adapt and her happy disposition gave her daughter Tove what she needed to have her own successful career. If Ham had not endured under her burdens, their family would not have remained in one piece. She was both an inspiration and source of strength for all her children.

Signe Hammarsten-Jansson was a beloved mother and a person admired greatly by all who met her, both professionalyl and for her remarkable personality. At the end of her life she was able to write a poem about it that ends with her declaring that it has all been quite good.

Bedelia! Suddenly in… Daily Graham?!

Gillian Anderson have a type of this distinguished delicate beauty, I can’t even catch. Simply love that woman. God, shes so gorgeous. And getting even more attractive with age. If you haven’t seen her in “Bleak House”  (adaptation of Charles Dickens) you totally should. 

btw remind you that:
Hannibal REQUESTS are open

Heart Of A Man Beats Inside

Genji strolled down the clean white hallways of the medical bay, towards Angela’s office for his weekly checkup. Each step he took echoed off the walls and he took in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with one hand. His posture was slouched as he walk, exhausted. Tired, swollen, red eyes were irritating his vision. Sleep has been an activity that used to be so basic for him before he became a whole mess of wires, metals and prostheses. But now, he is not so familiar with sleeping. 

He blinked a couple times until he managed to get somewhat of a clear vision. When he made it to the door of the doctor’s office, he was about to knock until he hear muffled shouting behind the door. He reached behind his waist, gripping the handle of his katana, ready to attack if required, and pressed his finger tips against the door, leaning in to be able to distinguished the voices. 

“It’s a yes or no question, Dr. Ziegler! Can you create these modifications on Genji?”

Genji released his katana when he recognized the voice. It was Gabriel Reyes in there with Angela. 

“Yes, it’s possible to create them but I will not put them on Genji.”

“Have you forgotten that Genji is in MY organization. I’m the commander of Blackwatch and that makes him MY soldier.” 

Genji’s mouth parted as he comprehended the conversation. He was right. Overwatch just saw him as a weapon, not a person. They saved him to benefit off of him. They saw a chance and took it. His hands turned into fists and his breathing got heavier and quicker. Anger started to boil in his veins, face turning red.

“He’s not a weapon for you to benefit off, Gabriel!” Angela shouted. 

It went quiet.

That made Genji’s fist uncurl themselves and into a more relax state. Angela was…defending him?

“Don’t put words into my mouth-” Gabriel started but Angela quickly cut him off.

“You only come here to talk about what changes we can make to his body! Never to know about his well-being! You might not care, but I defiantly do!”  

“You watch your tone with me, Doc.”

Angela stepped towards the tall dark man that easily toward over her. She leaned up to his face with her eyebrows furrowed together. “And you watch your views on Genji.” She snarled under her breath. 

“This isn’t your call to make on whether or not to put the modifications on him.” He growled at her, glaring her down but she didn’t shy away from him. She just hummed and crossed her arms.

“Watch me…” 

Gabriel gritted his teeth in frustration. He slammed the blueprints on her desk and walked towards the door.

Genji heard his heavy footsteps getting closer and he quickly dashed into hiding. He saw the door open and Gabriel stepped out, fuming. He watched him turn back to the room and say, “Remember what’s your position here at Overwatch, Dr. Ziegler, and don’t let that get over your head.” With that, he left and walked out of the medical bay. 

Genji slowly emerged from is hiding spot and looked off in the trail Gabriel took. He shook his head and walked to the door once more, softly knocking at the door. He jumped back a bit when the doors slid open quickly. Looking inside, he saw Angela sitting down on her computer chair, her face in her hands. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, trying to catch her attention. She seemed to be lost. 

He walked inside the office and went right up to her. He leaned down a bit, trying to catch sight of her face but her hands were shielding her face. “Dr. Ziegler? Are you alright?” He placed a hand on her shoulder and her shoulder stiffened at the contact. She looked up and smiling a bit when she saw it was Genji standing next to her.

“O-Oh, Genji, how are you?”

Genji ignored her question and looked into her glassy blue eyes. “Are you crying?” 

Angela shook her head, sniffing a bit. “No, everything is fine. What brought you by today?”

“I have a check up today.”

“Oh! That’s right, I’m sorry that I forgot!” Angela brushed her bags off her forehead and sighed. “Please, take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”

Genji nodded and made his way to the examination table, hopping on it. He looked around the office and his eyes caught sight of the blueprints on her desk. He tilted his head at it. “Dr. Ziegler?”

“Mhmm?”

“Are those blueprints for me?” He inquired. Although he heard the whole conversation from outside, he wondered if she was going to go through with accepting Gabriel’s request. 

Angela looked at the blueprints and grabbed it. “Don’t worry about this.” She crumpled it up and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. “Let’s focus on you.” She slid on a pair of medical gloves and grabbed a tongue depressor from a clear jar. “Let’s take a look at your throat.” 

She stepped infront of him and patiently waited as Genji slowly reached for the clasps of his faceplate, unhooking them and then putting down the faceplate beside him. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. She pressed the depressor down on the back of his tongue, shining a small flashlight down the back of his throat. “Everything looks…perfect.” She added more pressure on his tongue which caused Genji to gag and pull away from her. “ And your gag reflects are working just fine.”

Genji coughed a bit and wiped his lips free of his saliva. “I hate when you do that, you know?”

Angela smiled at him. “I know.” She turned to toss the depressor away but she managed to catch a small smile playing on Genji’s lips. “Now, I want to see your eyes.” She turned back to him and placed her thumb underneath his chin, leaning his head back a bit. “Ready?”

“Mhmm…”

She shined the light into his eyes and she watched as his pupil dilate. His eyes had some veins showing and she noticed a popped blood vessel in his right eyes. Genji moved his eyes up, down, left and right, the daily routine he had memorized for his eye exam. When Angela released his chin, he blinked, trying to get rid of those fuzzy black dots he would see. 

“Not getting enough sleep, Genji?”

Genji bit the side of his lips. “I don’t know what sleep in anymore.”

Angela frowned slightly at him, her face showing sympathy for him. “I have to take a look at that and see what’s causing you to not rest.”

He nodded slowly and glanced at the trash bin that had the discarded blueprints. “Dr. Ziegler,”

“Yes?”

“I know those blueprints were about me…”

Angela raised a brow in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“I overheard you and Reyes arguing over it.” He kept eyeing the trash bin. His hands gripped the edge of the table as he remembered how Reyes viewed him. A weapon. He could feel the same anger flowing through him again. “Reyes is right…I’m nothing more than a weapon. A machine to benefit from! I’m not a man in their eyes here.” 

“Genji, please don’t say that…” Angela muttered.

“I’m no longer a HUMAN!” He roared, his anger finally getting to him. He balled his hands into fists again. “That’s why they want me here…”

Angela gripped both of his shoulders, tightly. “No! You are more than that, Genji!” She said. She tilted his face towards her and looked at his red eyes that were showing pure rage in them. “You are a man. Don’t believe me? Here then,” She grabbed her stethoscope from around her neck and placed the ear tips in his ears. Then, she placed the cool diaphragm against Genji’s chest. “Close your eyes and just listen…”

He did what he was told and he could hear the drumming of his heart. It was beating fast but as he began to calm down, his heartbeat slowed. The sound of his heart beating inside him soothed him. He had actually forgotten his heart was real; that it was not artificial. His heart was real.

“It’s my heart…” He whispered.

“Yes, it is your heart.” Angela gently took the ear tips off him. “You are human, Genji. Whenever you feel like you aren’t, just take your hand and hold it right here, against your chest.” She grabbed his hand and pressed it against where his heart is. “And you feel it…” 

Genji looked down at their hands and he gripped her smaller hand in his. Her hand felt so soft and delicate in his large and scarred one. 

“Don’t you ever let anybody get to you. Always remember that I still see you as a human being.”  Angela assured him, her eyes still locked on his face. “I will never do any changes to you just to make you an asset for Blackwatch.”

“I…appreciate that, Angel- I mean, Dr. Ziegler.”

“No, it’s fine.” She softly laughed. “Call me Angela.” 

Genji glanced back at her and exhaled deeply. “Thank you, Angela.” He said her name slowly and he enjoyed how smoothly her name rolled off his tongue. 

“Anytime, Genji.” 

Their hands were still held together and neither of them could bring themselves forward to breaking away. They both stood still, staring into each other’s eyes. Genji felt in trance with Angela’s soft gaze and he couldn’t help but lean forward a bit. Angela noticed his move and she too began to lean in. Their noses brushed against each other’s, lips only one space away.

Angela could feel Genji’s warm breath against her chin. Her knees trembled at the feeling. She couldn’t help but follow her urge to press her lips against his own. She felt Genji’s scarred, rough lips brushed against her bottom one and a feeling of excitement shot through her spine. Goosebumps were rising on her arms. 

Genji’s breathing was shaky once he got a feel of Angela’s delicate lips. It’s been so long since he had kissed a woman before. He forgot the feeling of it, how crazy it would drive him in his youthful days. He wanted to give in badly. 

Just as they were about the close the gap, they heard the door hiss open and they quickly turned to the entrance. 

There stood McCree, wide eyed and paralyzed in shock. 

“Jesse!” Angela blurted out, covering her mouth as her cheeks turned red. 

Genji frantically reached for his faceplate and clipped it back in place. His cheeks were also turning red from embarrassment. He looked away from McCree, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Am I interuptin’ somethin’ here?” McCree asked, looking back and forth between Angela and Genji. 

“N-No, you’re not- just…d-do you have an appointment?” Angela asked, her words tangled. 

“Yeah, but….I can come back later.” He walked back a bit. “Sorry about the intrusion.” And he was gone. 

Genji ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I-I should get going.” He got off the table and turned to Angela. “Thank you again, Dr. Ziegler. Have a nice day.”

Angela watched as he left and the doors closed behind him. Leaning against the table, she placed a finger on her bottom lip where Genji’s own had touched upon, savoring the short moment she shared with him.

In that moment, she felt what she always thought she’d never have time to find. Yet, Genji had managed to make her dizzy and gave her a sense of joy and comfort. 

anonymous asked:

Honestly it feels so cool to be part of such an engaged, intelligent fandom. And I'm speaking of the entire 1D fandom. We know everything - we know the tour managers, producers, assistants, publicists, outlines of contracts, reporters, paparazzi, label heads, marketing staff, stylists... and I'm missing lots of other titles! Like sometimes I'll read an analysis post and Directioners can reference a name without hesitating. What other fandom knows the staff so well? Damn, it's insanely cool.

I respect the educational part of the fandom so much. There are friends I can go to for any factual questions about fashion, music, interviews, business, timelines, fan fic/ art, performance, promo, etc., and I know they’ll tell it to me straight.

We’re a fandom that’s skeptical and has learned to be smart consumers. We’ve learned to be wary of publicity stunts and manipulation, and to distinguish appearance from reality. For a fandom of mostly women, it feels empowering to take care of each other, educate each other, and to understand the culture we face, even as we consume the entertainment.

The educational part of the fandom has taught me so much about politics and gender, and about the threat of independent artists to corporations and industry monoliths. It’s eye-opening.

The more I learn, however, the more I feel that I picked the right band. I joined the fandom because I liked the music, and I thought the guys were cute with each other. I couldn’t have imagined how much I would come to admire them as people. They really are tough, persistent, talented, good men, inspiring me every day.

My Thoughts & Opinion About The Choices Fandom

Hi-there ho-there everybody! With the recent producer’s letter (is that would you call the recent Choices post I have no idea) a lot of people are either extremely pissed off about it or understand what the Pixelberry team is trying to accomplish.

I am going to be talking about how I feel about it, and hopefully it’ll answer some confusion people have.

WARNING THIS CONTAINS TRIGGERING MATERIAL AND MY OPINION SO IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT DON’T READ

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Okay. So the first thing I want to talk about is the James Ashton issue. More than 90% of the Tumblr fandom (I’m going to be distinguishing parts of the fandom later on) has been super pissed about James’ face being changed without any warning or his face changing at all.

I agree that changing his face without warning was a pretty low move on PB’s part. They could have released a statement explaining why the change and when they’re doing it, but I believe they had no idea the fandom would react so negatively.

James is one of the most popular of the love interests (at least I think so) and PB didn’t realize changing a character a ton of people love would backfire on them.

Why the change though? A lot of people speculate he looks too much like the actor ______ and he may have filed a law suit against PB for using his ‘face’ without his consent. A pretty likely chance, and I believe it. But I’m not going to dig far deeper than that so what is my opinion on the new face?

Though the old James (in my opinion) looked more attractive than the new James, he honestly isn’t half bad. He still carries traits of the old James over in his appearance (his goatee, hairstyle, etc.) just darker skin and different features. I think he still looks like James, and I prefer his darker skin tone than his lighter one; he seems more diverse that way.

Onto the next issue, Most Wanted Book 2. I have to say right here and now Most Wanted is not as hyped up as it gets. I played the book strictly for diamonds, because in order to get a perfect score you had to pay your way there. In my opinion, the characters are a little cliche. Sam is probably my least favorite main character because her ‘badass attitude’ annoys the hell out of me and is way overdone. Dave is okay(?) but he isn’t a very expressive character so he’s kind of boring.

The story wasn’t even as shocking and plot-twsiting as people make it to be. Hayley Rose being the true villain all along? Lol what? That is the dumbest thing ever; the most cliche of cop shows.

I’m sorry but I’m glad it will most likely never get a second book, it’s the worst one in the game tbh.

Moving on, PB also called out Tumblr’s constant hate on ROE and pretty much our hatred toward any and every thing.

I’m going to be real here. We can be super ungrateful on what we get. A lot of people in the Tumblr fandom throw hissy fits and whine and complain over every thing. Whether it being LBGTQ+ or straight, liking a certain type of person, what our MCs look like, there are hundreds of things we fight and spit at each other for.

It honestly makes me sick over how people take things too far. I got called a homophobe because I said I didn’t really like Kaitlyn. I get called racist because I prefer Jake over Sean or Chris over James.

I DON’T HATE ANY LOVE INTEREST. I think they’re all unique, all lovable in some way or other. I have a preference and this fandom spits on me for it. You guys need to seriously knock it off, don’t hate on someone if they prefer something or someone over you. It’s childish and wrong, grow up.

Okay, now that that’s taken care of. Why does ROE get so much love? I follow Choices on almost every social media platform and guess what the people love? Romance.

They love ROE, The Freshman/Sophomore, #LoveHacks, and The Royal Romance. Instagram and Twitter are always filled with love for the romance books. Tumblr is the place where equality is pretty much a number one factor and we want more than romance.

Guess what? Tumblr’s fandom is miniscual compared Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook. We are the small pack, the ones in the back. Our opinions are taken to thought, but overall the other social media fandoms usually give PB the most feedback and influence what we get.

Is it unfair? No. Because we basically complain all the time so why take us seriously? Why take our opinions when all we do is whine about literally everything.

So that’s it. That’s how I feel. I know there were and still are good people in this fandom, and I want you to keep spreading your joy and love. The ones who get triggered on everything and bring up unecessary drama and insult people? Grow up. Start looking on the brightside and stop shitting on everyone.

Thank you, have a nice day. Love you guys ❤️👏🏻

wibo-unused  asked:

Do you have a ref for bliz?

Heheh yeah, it’s somewhere around here. ^^’

But honestly, it’s unnecessary. 

To describe him: Bliz had a dark blue/navy coat with matching snow boots. He has black snow pants and a light blue turtle neck which matches his hat.

Take note that Bliz has white eyes as this is important when distinguishing him from Blizzard Sans.  

anonymous asked:

Is there a specific reason why you give Asgore four fingers ? In his crouching sprite, the hand he puts on his chest has 5. I hope I don't come off as rude for asking.

a) It’s easier to sprite.

b) I like to distinguish monsters from humans by giving the monsters one less finger than humans.

c) Personal preference when spriting/drawing nonhuman characters.

His hurt/crouching sprite in the remaster will have the same amount of digits as the other updated sprites.

5

HEY FRIENDS. HERE’S SOME NEW WILL CONNOLLY VIDEO (!!!) CONTENT FROM HIS TIME AT YALE.

A Day In Dig Nation by Michael McQuilken & Tommy Smith
Yale Cabaret 2009 - 2010 season

Rex, a somnambulist office drone, leads a dreary existence. When not pushing around a mouse in a fluorescent hellhole, he spends his time scarfing frozen dinners, zoning out on televised media and avoiding contact with real human beings. But as his media-drenched life plods on, Rex becomes increasingly immersed in waking fantasies – fantastically represented with lush foley sound design and mind-bending projected imagery. Unable to distinguish the real from the illusory, Rex is forced to make a decision that threatens to burst the womb-like comfort of his modern existence.

ETA: Fixed the links! Vimeo is stupid and doesn’t like being linked externally. You’ll have to C/P them into your browser instead of clicking.

Part 1 of 4 (17:19): https://vimeo.com/16321531

Part 2 of 4 (18:20): https://vimeo.com/16185836

Part 3 of 4 (8:59): https://vimeo.com/16209065

Part 4 of 4 (10:20): https://vimeo.com/16211305

Victory and success cannot be achieved except after tests which will bring the good forth from the evil and tell the believer apart from the kāfir, as Allāh‎ says (interpretation of the meaning):

مَا كَانَ اللَّهُ لِيَذَرَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ عَلَىٰ مَا أَنْتُمْ عَلَيْهِ حَتَّىٰ يَمِيزَ الْخَبِيثَ مِنَ الطَّيِّبِ ۗ وَمَا كَانَ اللَّهُ لِيُطْلِعَكُمْ عَلَى الْغَيْبِ وَلَٰكِنَّ اللَّهَ يَجْتَبِي مِنْ رُسُلِهِ مَنْ يَشَاءُ ۖ فَآمِنُوا بِاللَّهِ وَرُسُلِهِ ۚ وَإِنْ تُؤْمِنُوا وَتَتَّقُوا فَلَكُمْ أَجْرٌ عَظِيمٌ 

Allāh‎ will not leave the believers in the state in which you are now, until He distinguishes the wicked from the good. Nor will Allāh‎ disclose to you the secrets of the Ghaib (unseen), but Allāh‎ chooses of His Messengers whom He pleases. So believe in Allah and His Messengers. And if you believe and fear Allah, then for you there is a great reward. (3:179) 

ninaarkensaw456  asked:

I really loved the one you did. And I was wondering if it's not too much of a hassle if you could do another one? Like when Anti/Dark were walking to their S/O house only to find a trail of fresh blood leading to their house and find them badly hurt?

Thank you! Glad you liked it ^^ And I suppose I could. Here ya go~ (Note: I don’t usually write Anti’s dialogue in Zalgo all the time, but I will whenever Dark’s in the story too just to make it easier for you all to distinguish who’s talking ^^)
……

“D̵ark̡..͟.́?͝ Is̶ thi̛s.͠.w҉hat͘ I ̨th͠i͏nk ͡i͜t ̶i̧s?͢”̸

The older demon stopped dead in his tracks as he looked down, grimacing as he saw the blood splatters on the sidewalk. “Blood?” He raised an eyebrow. “From what exactly?”

“I ̸dun͡n͏o,”̴ Anti murmured, crouching down to get a closer look.  “Bųt͢ ͟i̛t͝ ͡l͜oo͢ks frȩs̡h a͏n̵d̡-̡”

“It doesn’t stop here..”

“W̷ḩat͠?”͠ The glitch did a double-take but when he noticed that there was, indeed, a trail of blood splatters leading down the sidewalk, that’s when he jumped back to his feet.  “Oh̶ ̶s͟hi̴t! Th̸is.͠.th̷is i͠s̨ lea͜di̕n̨’ r͝i͏g͏ht t̨o͏…̕”̵

The two demons exchanged worried glances, before they both glitched out of sight and reappeared in your house moments later. In a panic they started looking around for you and calling out your name

They didn’t want to start assuming the worst…but given how much they cared about you, they hoped that you weren’t badly hurt.

However, their panic only grew when you didn’t respond. Dark’s shell was starting to crack–with Damien stressing out and Celine being worried for your well-being– while Anti was on the verge of tearing down the walls and furniture just to find you.

“G-Guys, I’m alright…”

Looking over, Dark and Anti’s eyes both widened when they saw you walk out of the bathroom. One of your legs and arms were wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, there was a cut on your cheek, and, in your arms, you were carrying a white, slightly bloody towel.

“My God..[y/n] what-” Dark began, although he was cut off when Anti glitched over to you. His hands gripped your shoulders tightly.

“W͟H͟O ͠TH̢E ̧FU҉C͢K͠ ҉DI̷D̴ ̀T͟H͢I̸S̡ ̨TO ͞YOU҉?̶! GIM̶ME ̶A̴ N͡AM̡E͟ ͝A̸N̷D͜ A ̶PLA̵CE ̸AN̸D ̡I’ĹL̷-!͘!́”

“Anti, stop yelling…you’re literally right in front of me,” you told him, frowning as you hugged the towel closer to your body. “And you’re gonna scare this poor kitten I rescued..”

Anti blinked several times, his expression shifting to one of confusion.  “̕W͏h..̨Wha͢t?̨ ̵A kitt͏en?͟”̷

You nodded, smiling a little as you removed a part of the towel to reveal a tiny, black and white kitten with a nicked ear and a scratch near its eye. It looked up at Anti, letting out a soft mewl.

“͞Aw̛w.̴..͘t͝h̕at’s̢ cute̷,͜” he chuckled, calming down a bit as he let go of you, before, gently rubbing the kitten’s head. “B͜ut̵..͜.͘” His frown returned as he glanced back at you.  “H̨ow͡ did̷ ͜ya ̡get so ͡fu̴c̨ki̧n’ ͏m̷ess̕e̵d u͝p̨?”͜

“Well you see..I found this poor guy getting attacked by some dogs, large and vicious ones might I add,” you explained. “I didn’t know jack about fending them off, but I wasn’t gonna leave the poor kitten to die..”

“….so…you nearly got yourself killed..over a tiny, stray feline?” Dark murmured, walking over to you. “[Y/n], that’s-”

You shot a glare at him. “Look..I may have a busy life, but when I see a poor, innocent creature that can’t defend itself, you know damn well I’m gonna save it no matter what.”

The two demons were silent for a brief moment, before you saw Anti’s scowl deepen.  “͢Ẁe ̸t̛h̷ough͏t s̷o̴meo̷ne ͝w͝a͠s̶ trýn̢a m̷u͢rd͘er ya̛..̀.̡we͝ ͠s͟a̧ẃ ̶ą ̷fúcķi͟n’͞ b̕lood ̀tra͞il ̡on ́t̴he ͟w̵ay hęre!”͠

Blinking in surprise, you glanced back at Anti. “R-Really? Shit I didn’t even notice..” You sweatdropped a little. 

“It was not literally a trail, Anti,” Dark told him, rolling his eyes. “Just some blood splatters…but..” He looked at you as his shoulders became relaxed. “..it still made us extremely worried. But what matters is that you’re safe, [y/n].”

Your smile returned as you nodded in response. “Yep…but um..sorry I didn’t answer you guys right away,” you chuckled nervously. “I was trying to tend to the kitten and-”

“That’s fine….but..what do you plan to do with tha-?”

“I sa̴ý w̡ę k͞e҉e͘p it!”̢ Anti grinned widely, bouncing and glitching with excitement.  “It’s̕ s̶o c̛ut͢e ͞a̡nd ͜it̡’̢s ̵p̢rơb̴ab̶l̢ý ̛the̛ ͞o̢ǹl̕y t͘hin͢g I̛ d͞o̢n̵’͏t̢ pļa͡n ̷oǹ ̴mur̵d̢er͏in’ ̧bes̢ides ͞y̛o͜ư a̷n̶d̴ ͠[y/n̡]̢.͟”

Dark frowned slightly. “But-”

“C’mon, Dark, it’ll be fine,” you promised him. “I can’t just cast this poor fella back into the cold.”

After a few long moments of hesitation, he sighed in defeat. “Fine…but only because you went through all of this trouble for it..”

The kitten mewled once more, as though to say it was happy about Dark’s decision. The demon glanced down at it, giving it a cold, hard stare…although you and Anti could see that his lips were trying not to twitch up into a smile.

anonymous asked:

Oh you're not sure if you like someone? I get that... I find it hard sometimes to distinguish between romantic and platonic love... And it really depends on how the other person feels. Good luck to you!!

Ahh thank you!
Yes, sometimes those things can be really rough…I dunno…I feel it used to be easier :D
And it does also depend on how the other feels..and just..I dunno…*lies down*…this is hard

awwwww <33 all the best to you too!! We all can always use some good luck :D
💖💕