why is this so large

anonymous asked:

*inspired by the personality ask* I can't help but think that fluidity is also part of Joonie's character as a person. He wants, to an extent, anonymity, free to observe other people and their lives, but he also wants his voice to be heard, to be familiar. (Wasn't it in his Wings concept book interview where it's mentioned that he tries to balance being a professional and a person?) He reminds me of an eevee sometimes- a symbol of growth: he could be anything, but it's still him no matter what.

fr !! its his openness that gives him that. when youre too proud, too married to your persona, you arent welcoming to change. bc he is inherently humble and accepting, its part of him to always grow and change. this is honestly a large part of why i stan him so hard. ppl like that are incredibly rare

anonymous asked:

Fever, I have an important question to ask you. As much as I admire your art and your style and your active participation in the Zootopia fandom, why show an over excessive amount of pride? Like yes, we get it you "invented/founded" Spicy Nick Day but why be so narcissist about it? We see large blogs (larger than yourself) such as Trish or Rem but you don't see them bragging about their own achievements...or their ability to produce artwork, do you? I'm not against you I'm just curious. Thanks!

Oh, um.. 0///0 t-to answer your question, no I don’t see them doing that..

If you’re referring to how I carry myself in my blog description…there is a relevant reason behind everything I included, trust me, but I can see where you’re coming from- that all together it sounds like I’m tooting my own horn. In all sincerity, my whole focus from the beginning was to try and sound like a real person at first glance. I didn’t want a short and choppy simple-sentence description like: “Zootopia/WildeHopps Artist” (period. description over.) I’ll leave the basic information like that to my name, age, gender, and role (answers the essential questions in a snap) Also I’m not exactly a “Hi!, Hey there friend!, or Hello! I’m Emery! sort of person. Idk I feel like awkward doing a greeting that way. I didn’t exactly want my blog description to sound like a list either y'know with a bunch of commas and stuff //not that I’m hating; it’s just not ‘me’// I like putting personality and thought into who I am and what I essentially do for any newcomers to understand from the get go. But apparently it gives off an egotistical vibe //nice going Emery -_- all your talk about putting ‘thought’ into what you wrote. Unbelievable// Anyway, I wrote “I provide Zootopia, (as in movie related posts) WildeHopps, (as in ship related posts bc this is overall a shipping blog) and fanart” (as in mine and other artists fanart related to both ZTP and WH) all for those said reasons. I wanted viewers to know right away what’s in store. Then I direct them to my art blog bc I’m basically saying “specifically my artworks are more easily found here rather than through my #tags so yep. Easier” s'why I made that blog in the first place :/ Now I know I don’t have to credit my own icon, but I just thought “well there’s a quick way for them to judge whether they like my art or nah” but I think I just might take that part out of my desc. since it’s obvious :P Once all my *core* or for lack of a better term, *main* blog purpose is addressed, I gave a little info on my *human* rep in the fandom, again, so I’ll come out as a real person, crazy teen, an easy to talk to fangirl, blah blah blah, someone who will take questions and even embarrassing criticism into consideration……without actually me saying so like “just message/ask me about anything!” Honestly, I can’t even be online and especially messaging all the time everyday so I left that out. Also I don’t like publicizing my social flaws unless I have to (hence this post) :P As for the “*Creator of Spicy Nick Day*” part, honest! to! goodness! My soul, soul, soul purpose for adding that detail was so anyone who doesn’t know what that is or has questions could be directed to me, the person who would know the most about it. Seriously I only put that in my desc. to help- not to be narcissistic at all (which is why I gave that bit of info in *asterisks* rather than an egotistical emoji like “Creator of Spicy Nick Day 😎” or emoticon like “Creator of Spicy Nick Day ;)” I felt the asterisks were more professional. Not saying ‘Ye I did that ;) 😎’ (see how those symbols make all the difference? Ehh to me they do) Lastly my reason for writing “Also I’m @arsonist14 if you’re into that sorta thing” was NOT originally a shameless plug, but more of another vital information bit. Allow me to explain, since FeverWildeHopps is my sideblog, ppl will get confused if this “Arsonist14” person pops up in replies all the time answering questions only Fever would know. Y'know. And I didn’t want to write all that “btw arsonist14 is my main so if you see me in replies and stuff it’s me blah blah blah” so basically yeah I made it a shameless plug sorta. Um, so now that that’s over my profound apologies for being prideful and irritating. I apologize in advance if I do it again. For shame, Emery *places brown bag over my head* *hides* You’re a bold anon- that’s good.

9

Parody Twitter account underscores just why Donald Trump’s Twitter habits are so alarming

  • Trump’s tweets have largely been viewed as a distraction from his message, with White House spokeswoman Kellyanne Conway on Monday calling the media coverage of each tweet an “obsession.”
  • But a biting new Twitter account shows why Trump’s tweets are hardly trivial missives that should be ignored by the press, per Conway’s insistence. Read more (6/5/17)
3

and you call yourself a spy Natasha

Was looking at houses to get an idea of what’s available in the area and had to share this gem

pretty nice exterior note the double garage

woah, some interesting interior decorating but nice room, looks spacious

is the kitchen carpeted? I’ve looked at this a lot and honestly can’t tell

pretty chill as far as bedrooms go and by far the most normal room in the house

bathroom looks ok

I know this has been super normal outside the 1960s/70s interior design but stick with me

big long room with glaring pink carpet. that’s not a mirror on the “back wall” like I thought at first, this room just goes. where one the house is this, I thought to myself

my lord, that’s a garage door. they converted their garage and remodeled but KEPT THE DOOR to open to the outside from their sitting/entertainment room

wut

that’s not all, let’s check out the basement

good lord. just take a moment to take it all in. decor again not updated since 1970 (this house was originally built in 1969). the teddy bears on the couch. that weird game in the foreground which I’ve never seen before. sombreros on the walls the FULLY stocked bar. like so fully stocked…

and just to top it all off, the room that utterly horrified me,

Talking to the Moon

A lovely anon requested:hey im such a huge fan of your writing!! i was wondering if maybe you could do a peter x reader based off the bruno mars song ‘talking to the moon’ please? thank you so much if you do!!!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader

Warnings: very few swear words, mentions of implied death?

Word Count: 2, 651

Summary: Fast forward a few years from now, Reader is an advanced S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and Tony Stark’s adopted daughter who’s gone on an undercover mission and Peter Parker wishes there were things he’d said before they left.

Masterlist


A/N: This song is so good and I had too many ideas I couldn’t sort them out which is why this ended up being a huge mess. I apologize in advance for this. The reader and Peter Parker are in their early twenties. I literally wrote this under the full moon which I think is pretty awesome. Also, as you may be able to tell, I’ve been catching up on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.


Originally posted by marvelgifs


Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars

You’ve been gone for six months now. A little more than six months actually; 191 days as of tonight to be exact. 191 days ago, you got the offer to go on the undercover mission of a lifetime, the duration indefinite. 191 days ago, you had to leave immediately without so much as a goodbye to anyone. 190 days ago, was when you last communicated with the boy- now man, you are in love with.

The day after you were whisked away, you managed to slip an encrypted message through your adoptive father, Tony Stark, to let Peter know that you were okay. It was totally illegal and you spent the whole night encoding and encrypting when you should have been getting your rest for the mission.

You knew your father had the means to keep tabs on you throughout the project and you knew he’d give the team updates about you. You were never safe, but at least you were still alive. Little did you know, for the past two months you were totally off the radar and no one had any idea if your cover was blown, or if you were still alive.

For a while you didn’t think you’d make it out. All you could think of in those moments, was that you might die without ever telling Peter how you felt.

Keep reading

Becoming a Queen

You knew your ship was doomed. You were the only one left alive, though as far as you could tell, there was only one of those /things/ left, too. You wanted to set a course to crash into the planet then use one of the escape pods to get to safety.

But that was before one of those leaping fuckers found you.

Your ship had been on expedition to explore some hitherto undiscovered locations. There were rumors that there was xenomoph activity in this area, which had you and the other scientists all excited. You’d heard about them, but you’d never had the chance to observe them. The plan was if you found them to watch from afar and remain as hands off as possible.

You never counted on how diligent they could be, or how gah damned smart they were. For alien creatures who’s only drive seemed to be to breed and kill, they exhibited almost human levels of intelligence. They ambushed your crew, sticking them to the walls to allow facehuggers to inject eggs into them to make more. You’d never seen it happen in person. You’d seen them dissected, seen pictures of their probing ovipositors, but watching it happen in person had been the most horrifically fascinating moment of your life.

The soldiers that had accompanied the expedition had done an excellent job of isolating and eliminating most of the aliens, burning the eggs you had recovered from a stranded ship and blowing said ship into stardust.

But one had escaped.

If they were smart, this one was a savant. It had not only figured out how to work doors, but also to let its victims scream to lure more along. You observed it (no..him) several times, noticing that the elongated cranium that was usually smooth and round had begun to flatten out, black carapace forming a hard hood more often observed in queens. But you understood what was happening: he was adapting to his environment, taking on a needed role. You’d only heard of alpha xenomorphs as a theory, a sort of last ditch effort that some of their amalgamated biologies allowed. Some theorized is was the human members of their species, allowing for remarkable adaptability both environmentally and biologically.

The soldiers had set another trap, and the alpha had just set it off as a lure to kill several of them. A few of the remaining soldiers had tried to attack him then, only to end up cut off and killed on by one.

You had a close encounter with him, and you thought it would have been the end of you. If only that had been so…He cornered you and your team, slaughtering two of them. When he raised a clawed hand at you, he hesitated. A low growl came from him, and his lizard like lips relaxed over his dripping teeth. He growled and sniffled, butting his muzzle against you. You thought for sure you were dead…instead he pressed his head against you, rubbing at you almost like a cat would.

He ran off when the few remaining soldiers tried to attack him. Your heart was pounding and you could barely breathe. They asked if you were alright, and you suddenly realized you were the only one of that group left.

Things seemed to go downhill from there. You always had the sense that he was following you, hearing his claws on the gratings around you, seeing his long tail whip around corners. The last of the soldiers and crew began to dwindle, getting picked off in the mad attempts to get back to the ship’s bridge. By the time there was a clear path, you were the only one left.

That was when it found you. It looked like a chestburster, only larger with longer legs and tail. You ran, keeping an arm up level with your head and neck. But this one wasn’t concerned with your mouth. It flung itself at you and landed on your lower back, its tail clamping around your waist. Its legs gripped your buttocks and thighs, and you felt two sharp points ripping at your jumpsuit. You felt the tapered end of the ovipositor probing you, searching. You tried to pull it off, but its grip was iron. You slammed backward into walls, but its back was covered in a hard shell like the aliens themselves. It shifted itself between your thighs, the same shell forcing your legs apart.

It found your warm hole and thrust in. You screamed and frantically grabbed for it, but it was pressed up against you so tightly, you couldn’t even wiggle a finger between it and you. You screamed again, feeling it thrust upward into you. It reached impossibly deep, and you felt your stomach pushing outward with its movements.

Then you felt it. A lump against your hole. You threw yourself on the ground and tried to make it stop, but you were powerless to stall the inevitable. You felt the large sacs on the thing convulsing and sending ripples down its ovipositor. Your belly felt hot suddenly, and you gasped, clutching at it. Your hole was wet with some sort of alien goo it filled you with. Every lump was more goo, and the feeling of heat spread through you.

Another bump pressed to your hole, this one large and solid. You screamed no over and over, trying to thrash free of this thing attached to you in a death grip. Your hole stretched wider and wider to the point where you swore you would rip in two. Convulsing on the ground, you sobbed in mixed pleasure and pain, gasping when the hard thing passed into your body. You felt every inch it moves, and look down to see it pushing your belly outward.

Everything from there was fuzzy. The thing pumped more goo into you until your belly looked like you’d had a meal that was far too large. You crawled down the corridor, tears streaming down your face as you realized there was no salvation for you, not now. You only had one option left: crash the ship to destroy everything on board. You felt your stomach surge and convulse, churning and growing steadily heavier. By the time you reached the bridge, you looked like you were pregnant, your belly almost brushing the floor.

It took the last of your strength to pull yourself up to the navigation computer. Even as you key in the commands, overriding the ship’s safety protocols for a steep descent, you feel something happening inside you. You sob, knowing this must be the moment they punch through you and rip free…

But they don’t.

You see them moving inside you, writhing and slithering like snakes. Your belly is so full and heavy it’s all you can do to stay upright. You fumble your ID code, blinking back tears as you put it in for the fourth time. The computer finally accepts your trajectory, and you let yourself fall on the floor.

As you scream and hold your belly, you’re aware of not being alone. You know the sound of hard claws on the metal of the ship, scrabbling as the creature moves closer. He shrieks, though you don’t know why. You don’t really care either. You would have loved to study him, learn why he grew so large and why his head grew as it did. He looked like a king somehow.

All thoughts of that leave you as your stomach convulses. The movement in you shifts, and you scream as you feel the writhing mass move lower. You lay on your back, legs spread. Screaming and panting, you press your back to the floor and push with all your might. You feel your hole bulge and stretch, something smooth and wiggling pressing against it. You push and scream, feeling a long thing slither out of you. Before you can even see what it is, the pressure builds again. You push, screaming as two more press out of you side by side.

It feels like eternity as you lay there, panting and pushing, countless things slithering out of your hole. You finally see them as a couple of them climb across you. They’re neonate xenomorphs, their soft skin still fleshy and covered in the greenish goo the strange facehugger forced into you. Most of them scatter when the alpha pads toward you. He growls and lays over you, his smooth body cool against your flushed skin.

All around you, sirens are going off, the ship’s warning systems kicking on. It’s placidly screaming the descent is wrong, it’s too fast, too steep. You hope the ship burns up in atmosphere. The last thing you remember is heat, the ship’s life support falling to critical levels as the white hot burn of planetary entry seared the plating off the hull.

You never expected to wake up. Blinking blearily, you looked around, wondering where you were. Pieces of the wrecked ship surrounded you, and you could see huge trees between them.

Somehow, you survived the crash.

You can’t move, looking up to see your arms have been carefully secured in glossy black resin. The same kind the xenos restrain their chest burster victims in. You try to move, but you’re dangling about 10 feet off the ground and are powerless to so much as twist. You look down at yourself and see your belly is still slightly distended. You don’t feel the writhing weight inside you anymore, but it still feels..wrong.

Below, you see several small xenos run back and forth, one of them looking up at you and screeching. The trees shudder, and the alpha appears. He’s grown even larger, almost 9 feet tall now. He easily climbs up to you, the long fingers of one hand forcing your mouth open. His lips curl back and his huge teeth part, and you see his secondary mouth shoot forward. You scream and writhe as he forces it into your mouth and angles to shove it down your throat. He growls and his torso jerks, and you feel something sliding down your throat. He’s..feeding you?

This becomes a regular routine, him returning from the forest and pushing his secondary mouth into yours to share his hunts with you. You beg him to stop, to let you go or let you die, but he just growls and rubs his smooth head against you.

You’ve lost track of time. Your body is changing, you can feel it. Slowly, day by day, your belly is growing again, though much more than before. The alpha begins to nose and prod along your body, often trying your hole with the smooth swell of his nose. You realize your hole has become softer and larger, and each day it feels like he can slide his muzzle further against you.

You start to notice him changing, too. The carapace between his hind legs seems to have softened, swelling outward slowly, growing. You realize somehow, he’s grown a penis. As far as you know, that’s completely unheardof. Yet there it is, dangling between his legs.

He climbed up to where you were hanging, taking you in his hands. He growled and settled his head over your shoulder as his body bowed. His hips work their way between your legs, and you feel the head of his newly grown cock spread your hole. You can’t resist, you can barely cry out when he thrusts into you. There’s no pleasure to it, not tenderness or love. He thrusts roughly, pushing deep into you. You feel your body react, everything in you suddenly alive with sensation. You cry out and thrash, then scream in pleasure as he cums inside you. Your already distended belly grows larger as he pumps you full.

Time passes. Your belly grows until it’s hanging between your legs. The alpha and the smaller xenos you birthed on the ship connect your growing belly to the broken ship with more resin, taking the burden of weight bearing off of you. You’re grateful to them. The alpha fucks you almost daily, further distending your belly.

Little by little, black patches appear on your skin. Hardened plates cover your arms and legs, then your chest above the swell of your belly. From your ribs downward, you are nothing but belly, your legs dangling comically on either side. Your hole continues to stretch, and though you can’t see it, you’re fairly certain it’s moved.

The skin over your belly becomes thinner. Inside, you can barely see the movement of large objects, shuffling around within you. Your spine has grown its own cage-like carapace which wraps around your ribs and hips. It’s only then you realize the flesh of your back and ass have changed, stretching backward. Your hole has begun to shift downward, dangling just off the ground from your massive belly.

No…not belly…Egg sac.

The hard cage along your spine helps support the ever growing sac. The alpha and smaller xenos dutifully tend to you as you begin to understand your new place. They didn’t have time for a queen to be born and grow..they had to make do. Your belly ripples, the translucent skin shifting and pushing, moving the hundreds..no, thousands of eggs through you. The small xenos have brought back living creatures and restrained them to the walls of the ship and the surrounding trees. Day by day, the skyline gives way to a lattice work of resin construction. They build a sanctuary for you.

The alpha rarely leaves you now, staying always at your side, climbing around you and tending to your every need. He caresses your egg sac, soothing the discomfort of the eggs moving inside you, easing your burden.

You feel your egg sac convulse and cry out. Your voice sounds like their’s now, a shrieking growl that echos in your chambers. The alpha is beside you at once, rubbing his crested head against you. The convulsing contractions travel all the way down your belly, and you feel your hole begin to bulge. Slice and goo pour from you, sending the small xenos scurrying to your hole. You feel the birthing tube of your hole stretch and elongate until it almost touches the ground. The bulge of an egg moves through it, and you groan at the tight pucker you feel before you stretch around it, easing it to the floor.

Another egg soon follows, then another. You find yourself in a haze, trapped in a feeling of pleasurable pain as egg after egg travels through your birth canal to be deposited on the ground.

The smaller xenos collect the eggs and move them, setting them in front of their captives. The creatures writhe and scream, exactly the wrong thing to do. The eggs blossom open, and facehuggers wriggle their way free. They leap and plant themselves over the screaming mouths, muffling them as their ovipositors force deep into their throats.

Some time later, you coo as you watch your children burst from their incubators and wriggle onto the ground. Your children, your second brood. They skitter around you, finding places to shelter their small, soft bodies until they grow. The alpha purrs at you and rubs himself along your belly. You want him to seed you again, and he obliges, thrusting into your hole even as you try to push out more eggs.

Your new life as their queen will be full of pleasure and offspring. You will make a new home of this world, together with him and your children. Your species will thrive. Even as hard plates cover your face, and the soft skin of your cheeks falls away to expose your huge, gleaming teeth, you feel every inch a queen. Your crest soon grows from what was once a rounded skull, just like his did.

Every day you lay more eggs, and every  day your children burst free. This world is yours, your realm, your home, your kingdom.


(by supernona)

160110 Suga’s Tweets

안녕하세요 슈가입니다 많은 분들이 나의 휴가에 대해 궁금해 하시더라 간단하게 말하자면 많이 걷고 많이 자고 많이 생각했다 믹스테잎을 작업하기 전 생각 정리를 하고 싶어 여행이 가고 싶었다 꼭 가야하는 곳도 있었고

Hello, this is Suga. Many people were curious as to what I was doing on my break, and to simply put it, I walked a lot, slept a lot and thought a lot. I wanted to go on a trip to organize my thoughts before working on my mixtape. I also had a place I must go to. And 

24살 방탄소년단 슈가가 아닌 24살 민윤기로 할 수 있는 걸 하고 싶었다 나를 돌아보는 시간이었다 지금하는 이야기들은 가수와 팬 방탄과 아미가 아닌 사람 대 사람으로 이야기하고 싶어 시작하는 이야기이다

I wanted to do things I was able to do not as a 24 year old BTS’ Suga, but as a 24 year old Min Yoongi. It was a time where I looked back at myself. The things I will say now are things I wanted to share not as a Singer and Fan, or as Bangtan and ARMY, but to talk to you as human to human.

많은 사람들을 대할때 가장 슬퍼 질때는 모든 사람들에게 공평하게 대할수 없는 내 자신을 마주 할 때이다 누구하나 상처주고 싶지 않은데 그러지 못할 때가 생긴다 난 아직 한참 부족한 사람인것 같다

The most upsetting time for me when I face a large number of people, is when I face myself who isn’t able to be fair to everyone. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but there are times I couldn’t do that. I think I’m still a person that lacks in many things.

고베 콘서트 둘째 날.. 그날 이후 난 깊게 잠을 자본 기억이 없는 것 같다 많은 사람들에게 상처를 줬다는 것 때문일까 항상 잠들면 식은 땀과 함께 잠에서 깬다

The second day of the concert in Kobe.. I don’t think I’ve ever slept deeply after that day. Could it be because of the fact that I gave a wound to many people? Whenever I fell asleep, I would wake up with cold sweat.

이미 한번 무대에 서지 못해 많은 사람들에게 상처를 줘 본 적이 있기에 무슨일이 있어도 올라가겠다고 했다 모든 사람들이 말렸다 무대에 서지 못한다는 상황에 정말 펑펑 울었다 울면 지는건데    

Because I already once have not been able to go on stage before and have hurt many people, I said that I’ll go up (to perform) no matter what situation arises. Everyone tried to stop me. I really cried a ton at the situation of not being able to go up on stage. And I know crying is losing.

나에게 있어서 나의 슬픔을 참는 건 매우 쉬운 일이다 하지만 나를 사랑해주는 사람들이 슬픈 건 매우 힘든일이다 난 다시 나를 사랑하는 사람들에게 슬픔을 안겨주었다. 시간을 되돌릴 수 있다면 난 그 날 무슨일이 있어도 무대에 섰을 것이다

It’s really easy for me to cope with my own sorrow, but witnessing those who love me in sadness is very hard. I made them sad, once again. If I could go back to that day, I would go on stage no matter what.

그래서 가야하는 곳이 생겼었다 나는 휴가동안 고베를 다녀왔다 많은 사람들이 말렸지만 가지 않으면 내가 나에게 떳떳하지 못할것 같았다 그래서 무작정 갔다 고베로  

So there was just one place to go. I went to Kobe during my break. Many people tried to stop me from going, but I didn’t want to be ashamed of myself any longer. So I just went to Kobe.

공연을 했던 공연장을 공연이 끝나고 따로 찾아 간 적은 이번이 두번째이다 첫번째는 레드불렛 첫 콘서트를 끝내고 새벽에 찾아갔던 악스홀 두번째는 무대를 못섰던 고베 월드 기념홀

It was my second time visiting the concert venue after a concert. The first was Ax Hall at late night after finishing the first Red Bullet concert. The second time was the Kobe World Memorial Hall, at where I failed to perform.

난 무뎌지는게 너무 싫다 많은 사람들이 나를 사랑해주는 이 영광스러운 날들을 당연시 생각하고 싶지 않았다 무뎌지기 싫었다 그래서 다시 찾아 갔었던 악스홀 그리고 고베 월드 기념홀

I hate becoming a numb person.  I didn’t want to take the love and these glorious days for granted. I didn’t want to be a numb person. That’s why I visited the venues again on my own.

(T/N: He’s saying he doesn’t want to take all the love he’s receiving as granted, he really wants to appreciate every single love he gets. He’s meaning numb in the way by how he wouldn’t be able to feel what the fans feel about him. He’s basically saying he wants to appreciate every love he gets from his fans)

난 무대에 서는게 너무 좋았었고 아직도 좋다 17살때 난 관객 2명 앞에서 공연을 할때도 떳떳하게 눈을 마주하고 공연을 했었다 하지만 데뷔 이후 난 나 자신에게 떳떳하지 못했던 것 같다
내 자신이 부족하단 걸 내가 더 잘 알아서였을지도.

I liked being on stage, and I still do. When I was 17 and performed in front of 2 people I stood proudly and made eye contact with them during my performance. However after my debut I feel that I have not been righteous towards myself. I think it may be because I knew better then that I wasn’t perfect.

그리고 화양연화 온 스테이지 첫 공연날 난 오랜만에 관객들과 떳떳하게 눈을 마주쳤다

And the on the day of the first performance of 화양연화 on stage I made proud eye contact with the audience that I didn’t do in quite a while

하지만 무대에 서지 못했던 고베 두번째 날 그날 이후 난 다시 떳떳하게 많은 사람들을 마주할 자신이 없었다 그래서 찾아 간 고베 , 그 공연장 난 도착한 시간부터 우리의 공연이 시작하던 그 시간까지 주변을 계속 서성였다

But after the second day of the Kobe concert when I was unable to stand on stage, I didn’t have the courage to confidently confront the large number of people. So that’s why I visited Kobe, the concert hall again. I kept wandering around the area by the concert hall from the time I arrived there until the time our performance was due to begin that day.

티켓팅 부스에서 입구 그리고 공연장 구석구석 난 당신들과 똑같은 감정을 느끼고 싶었다 많은 감정들을 느꼈다 기쁨 공연을 기다릴때의 설렘 슬픔 원망 분노 안타까움 등등 난 당신들을 이해하고 싶고 이해한다 그러기에 미안하고 죄송하다 완벽하지 않은 인간이라

From the ticketing booth to the entrance and the concert hall - I wanted to feel the same emotions as you all from every nook and corner. I felt many emotions. Happiness, the excited nervousness felt while waiting for the performance, sadness, resentment, anger, regret, etc. , I wanted to understand you all, and I do understand. So I’m sorry and apologetic, for I am not a perfect human being.

나약하지만 강한척 하는 인간이라
다시 한번 난 부족한 인간이라는 걸 느꼈다 종교는 없지만 그 자리에서 기도했다 어차피 끝은 정해져 있는 일
끝이 있더라도 이 감정 이 마음 무뎌지지 말자고

I’m a person who is weak, but acts strong. Once again I realised that I was a person who’s lacking. Although I’m not religious, I prayed at that place. After all at the end, it was a fated day. Even if it’s ended, let’s not let this heart become numb.

매순간 혼자이고 싶었던 나에게 여러분들은 참 많은 부분을 차지하고 있었다
나이와 성별 국적과 종교 당신이 어떤 언어를 쓰는지 그건 나에게 중요하지 않다 예상치 못하게 뮤직뱅크 방송이 잡혀 예정보다 하루 일찍 비행기를 타고 돌아 오는 날

To me, who wanted to spend every moment alone, you all were taking up quite a large part (of my mind). Age and gender, nationality and religion, what language you use - all of that isn’t important to me. That day, we unexpectedly had a Music Bank broadcast and I boarded a plane and returned a day before planned

난 많은 생각들을 정리하고 돌아왔다
다시한번 난 축복받은 사람이라는 걸 느끼며 매순간 감사하며 살아야 하는 사람이라는 생각이 들었다 축복받은 사람으로 만들어 주셔서 감사합니다 아미
표현이 서툴어 항상 말은 못하지만

I returned after organizing my many thoughts.
Once again, while feeling that I’m a blessed person, I felt that I need to be a person who lives every moment feeling thankful.
Thank you for making me a blessed person, ARMY,
Although I’m never able to say this because I’m bad at expressing myself.

이렇게 시덥잖은 글을 통해 다시 한번 제 생각을 전달하네요
부족한 인간이기에 매순간 감사하며 살겠습니다
사랑합니다 아미

Here I am conveying my feelings and thoughts once more through a piece of less-than-satisfactory writing.
I will live while being thankful of every moment as I am such a lacking human being.
I love you, ARMYs

Trans cr; Sihyun, Sevina, Vicky, Mary, Irene @ bts-trans
© TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

anonymous asked:

I have a female character in her early twenties. How realistic would it be for her to be skilled (enough to hold her own against larger opponents) in hand to hand combat in under two years? If not, what would be realistic for her to master?

It’s realistic, sort of. There’s a few minor issues that don’t really fit together here, making it (at least seem) unrealistic as written.

Practical martial arts training intended to put someone into combat lasts far less than two years. You can learn effective hand to hand techniques that you can then apply in combat in an eight week course. If you’re coming out of the military or from a police background, your hand to hand training took, at most, a couple months. Then you go back every six months to a year, and update it, meaning you learn what others have developed to counter your training, and how to deal with their counters.

Practical training isn’t so much about spending years learning how to fight, as checking in often enough to see what’s changed. When you’re dealing with untrained opponents, it really doesn’t matter. Most people haven’t been in a fight since high school, and even basic police adapted Judo from the 70s will take them down.

As we’ve said many times before, most martial arts apply to larger foes without missing a beat. This is especially true of the adapted Judo/Jujitsu which forms the core of most American police and self-defense forms. This may be a difficult concept to wrap your head around, but it is far easier to put an opponent on the ground when they’re a foot taller, and a hundred pounds heavier, than the other way around.

Depending on how zealous they are about keeping their training up to date, someone who underwent training two years ago will have gone back four to six times, to update. They may have also elected to retake their training just to, “brush up.” Either way, we’re not talking about someone dedicating a lot of their life to this.

That said, if you’re talking about someone who signed up at a Dojo, and has been taking weekly classes, there’s no way to know what they’re trained to deal with. Some recreational schools will get into practical applications for their martial art, and offer it as an optional advanced class for their students. At that point, it’s entirely dependent on her instructor if she gets in (as an adult, these would probably be open to her if she wanted). It’s also, depressingly common for a martial arts school to offer, “self-defense,” classes that are just their normal curriculum with a different advertising hook. A class like this will not prepare your character for a self-defense situation.

For reference: If you’re taking a self defense class, and the discussion doesn’t include a serious discussion on situational awareness, and/or your instructor puts a lot of faith in your ability to overcome via superior force then you’re probably in the wrong place. Real self-defense training focuses on creating an opening so you can retreat to safety (if possible). It’s concerned with your ability to escape the situation and survive, not your ability to win a fight. Sticking around and dealing with an assailant is something you would only want to consider very situationally.

Also, in case it’s not clear, when I’m talking about Police adapted Judo, it is not the same martial art as Judo. It was derived from Judo after the Second World War, and the modern martial art still shares some techniques, but there have been substantial modifications to it, in order to produce something functional for combat. Judo itself is intended to be a sport martial art, and not something you’d take into combat.

There’s also no way to know exactly how fast the school moves its students through, and how quickly your character would advance. These are all dependant on human interactions and how quickly they learn and internalize techniques. In a more traditional school, two years is not a lot of time, but a modern Dojo may move a lot faster. It all comes down to the instructor’s preferences.

That said, recreational martial artists are not (usually) trained for combat. There’s a fundamental disconnect between how practical martial artists approach techniques, and how recreational ones do. They’re often studying the exact same techniques, but with different goals in mind. The recreational martial artist is learning to perform it, the practical one is learning to apply it. This might not sound important, or could come across as irrelevant trivia, it’s not. This is a large part of why practical training is so much faster. You’re learning how to do things to your opponent, not how to perform the techniques correctly.

A character who’s spent two years taking a martial art in a recreational capacity, may be able to handle an untrained opponent (it’s actually, fairly likely, assuming they don’t make any critical mistakes, which is also quite possible), but may face serious issues dealing with a trained opponent (this will depend entirely on what each character’s training focused on). Someone who has trained with a practical focus will be able to take on an untrained opponent (assuming they don’t make any major mistakes or misjudge the situation). Ironically, they’re also far more likely to attempt to avoid direct confrontation, and try to defuse the situation non-violently, than a trained recreational martial artist would.

So, your character’s been training for two years, and you want to know what she can tackle. If she was simply going to a Dojo twice a week, that’s not combat ready. That may not even be combat ready, if the Dojo’s “self-defense” class was run by the same instructors who believe their decade training in a sport martial art is good enough for “the streets.”

If your character’s been training with a cop, or ex-military, relative/friend/rando, or been in police sponsored self-defense classes, then two years is more than enough time to be able to deal with an opponent.

There’s an unrelated issue that Michi would be irked if I didn’t bring up. (We both started typing up radically different responses to this question.) Mastery a term that gets tossed around a lot in fiction. In martial arts, two years isn’t long enough to master anything. It’s not enough time to master the basics, it’s certainly not enough time to master advanced techniques. Mastery reflects a very high baseline of skill, and can easily take decades of dedicated training. A character can become proficient in elements of a martial art fairly quickly. That is to say, they can perform them correctly, and present a solid (or effective) technique. But, mastery, in this context, is a much higher bar to hit, and not one a character will reach within the first few years of starting a martial art.

There’s one last thing, “hold her own,” is a very difficult goal. Unarmed combat doesn’t tend to equalize out like this. You either win, lose, or wear each other out in fairly short order. Combat is extremely tiring, it’s part of why real self-defense tends to focus on creating an opening and escaping. Sticking around and trying to win a fight through attrition is a losing proposition for nearly everyone. Getting a good clean shot in on someone is usually enough to create the distance you need to escape. It’s not, “winning,” but, if all you need to do is retreat, that’s all you need. If you’re going to stick around, then the goal is to take your opponent down quickly and decisively. Unarmed combat doesn’t allow for protracted dueling the way Wuxia films present it.

-Starke

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Walnut: Part Two (EVAN HANSEN X READER)

AUTHORS NOTE: i currently have 586 things in my ask box. 124 of those asks were for a sequel to my fic ‘Walnut’. SO HERE YOU GO KIDDOS

TW: all of them. smut mostly.

Words: 2,503

Requested: hell ya           

You were slammed on the mattress that was now hibernating beneath your spine. Your head hit a pillow, and your boyfriend’s body was hovering over yours. His torso found its way between your thighs. His lips latched onto the flesh of your neck. The room swarmed with sensuality and familiarity. Layers of cotton and denim were strayed on the hard wooden floors of Evan’s bedroom. The sheets that protected his twin size mattress were thrown carelessly. It was a battle of flesh against flesh, in hopes of winning dominance and sweet harmony.

           The feeling of Evan’s racing heart was caught between your fingers. Your hands roamed his exposed skin, drinking in the image of his radiance. His brunette eyebrows were lifted as his eyelids fluttered to a close. Your touch was like fire, burning down deep into his soul. His skin was soft. Your hands traveled to his blue boxers, slipping them down the hip bone that poked the surface of his skin. With a soft growl, he opened his eyes, staring at your anatomy once more.

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