yes everything all the time

anonymous asked:

adv time's status quo changing subtly but constantly is perfect bc of the "everything stays" parallels to the whole series imo

YES I THINK ABOUT THIS ALL THE TIME EVERYTHING STAYS APPLIES TO LIKE, PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING IN ADV TIME ITS GREAT

10

They never went on a spontaneous road trip again

4

Jongin for Esquire Korea 2017 Feb issue

One criticism I think there is to be made regarding ‘World Enough and Time’ is that Bill remains passive and accepting throughout her time in the Hospital. It’s arguably a reach to suggest that, after however many years of camping out withThe Master, she wouldn’t be incredibly angry with The Doctor for making her wait so long, (although it’s also just as arguable that a mixture of rationality - she knows that she can’t leave the hospital without dying/ genuine naievity/ total faith in and admiration for The Doctor/ that constant CCTV live-feed/ even some form of Stockholm Syndrome, renders this believable), however, calling this fridging, or ‘killing off the black lesbian’ or the bury your gays trope is simply prematurely nonsensical seeing as Bill. Is. Literally. Not. Dead. 

ALSO ALSO about shinee’s #Physiques 1)jonghyun is not that short/ short at all. He looks average height
2) Taemin isn’t that thin, he has your typical dancers body (but not typical cause it’s still taemin and anything he has is special)
3)kibums legs!!!!!! He could stomp a bitch™ out (aka my ass)
4) Minho is tall and has the long lean legs we see in photo shoots all the time yes it’s true
5) onews everything is so amazingly beautiful honestly what the fuck it truly was not fair

“Hyper femininity is toxic” well no? No it’s not? Just like everything women do or like, being feminine and liking stereotypical feminine things is something still get ridiculed for and is still seen as something that is bad for boys to express so no

It was honestly getting out of hand. This is not what Tasha had in mind when she had the airport evacuated. It was more to make sure Barnes doesn’t accidentally hurt someone and maybe avoid people snapping pictures and tweeting about Avengers arguing with each other. And what the fuck was Clint doing here? Admittedly, she could have left a more detailed explanation with Vision as to why Wanda was confined to the compound though she thought that Wanda was intelligent enough to draw her own conclusions. Apparently she wasn’t.

“Is this part of the plan?” Nat asked after Tasha helped her up.

“No, this definitely was not part of the plan. Damn Rogers and his ‘punch-the-way-out’ mindset. Want to switch it up?”

“Sure.” It was with practiced ease that Iron Woman had Black Widow in tight but safe grip, flying short way across the landing strip in order to land in the path of Cap’s team.

“Captain Rogers… I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good…you must surrender now.” It pained her how incredibly like J.A.R.V.I.S. Vision sounded sometimes. But the good captain apparently was not listening if the advancing was anything to go by. Well fuck.

“They are not stopping.” She could have gone without kid’s comment. In a matter of seconds they were beating each other again. It was insane. And she had run out of patience. “Vision, take out the quinjet. It seems they won’t stop until they reach it.” Tasha instructed, dodging the shield Rogers threw at her.

The android disengaged his fight with the newcomer with the suit that could apparently enlarge as well as shrink; and turned his attention to the open hangar where the powered down quinjet was waiting. Iron Woman’s instruction was sound. Taking out a way to escape reduced the probability of prolonged fighting. Checking yet again if there was someone around the hangar, short beam of yellow energy burst from the gem on his forehead and the quinjet was reduced to a smoking pile of scrap. It was a shame really, for Tasha Stark took great pride in designing and building it. The resulting explosion served as a short moment of pause as the realization of no escape settled on Captain America’s team.

“I will say it one last time!” There was no restraint in anger that boomed from Iron Woman. “Stand the fuck down!”

Spider-man used the distraction to shoot copious amount of webbing at Hawkeye, Falcon and Scarlet Witch, effectively pinning them to the ground. It was after all the reason why she brought him to Germany in the first place. The close contact combat was not it. Black Panther had Barnes pinned as well, Black Widow was eyeing the man in giant form with all the suspicion of the world whilst War Machine was hovering near him as well, ready to act at any sudden move. For the first time since this whole shitty mess started, Captain America looked indecisive and unsure. It was more than likely because his only effective way out was blown up. Looking at his now subdued teammates, he let the shield he retrieved fall from his hand. “You’re making a mistake Tasha.”

“Then it is mine to make. As it was your mistake in deciding to not contact me before this fight went down or even to listen to me back at the task force.” She turned to Black Widow. “Please inform Everett Ross to send a transport for everyone.”

The giant man finally shrunk down to the normal size, hands raised up in surrender. She would find out exactly what his name was later. “Stay put Rogers.” Tasha ordered when he moved to follow her approach to Barnes, reinforcing it with a raised gauntlet waiting to fire off an energy blast. The helmet collapsed when she kneeled in front of Barnes. “Who am I talking to right now?”

“Sergeant James Barnes, serial number 32557038.”

“It’s nice to meet you at last Barnes. I believe I have something to help with your conditioning problem.”

“Steve didn’t mention that.”

Tasha snorted. “Yes, I am beginning to learn how elective he is with words. We’ll discuss it later.”

Black Widow returned with small caravan of SUV’s and prisoner transport trucks in tow, gear was taken away, handcuffs were slapped on and everyone made their way back to Berlin. Tasha was already having a headache just thinking about conversations that were to be had in about two hours. Making sure Spider-man was safely on board her private jet with Happy, Tasha slipped into the backseat of the black SUV; content to find out that there was no one else in it. She just needed a quiet minute or two.

***

“You know you are not obligated to talk to them any further. That is actually my job at this point.”

Why did she stop drinking? Because she could fucking use one right now. “I like you much better than the other Ross. So if you could just let me deal with this shit please? I promise you can hash out all the details on them later because frankly I am just about done.”

The shorter man eyed her, finally shrugging his shoulder and pointed to the heavily guarded conference room where the rogue Avengers as media was already calling them were being kept. He made it crystal clear that they should be in cells already but he was not going to go against the higher ups. And seeing the plain exhaustion of her face, he decided that the woman should have some sort of satisfaction out this entire clusterfuck. “You look ready to keel over.” Nat commented bluntly, matching her steps with Tasha’s.

“Let’s just get this over with, okay? I really don’t want to talk about anything else.” Two women already found Rhodey, Vision and T’Challa sitting at the same table, facing the other team with expressions varying from unconcealed anger to pensive curiosity. “Are the handcuffs really necessary?”

“I’m not here for chit chat, Rogers.”

“Where’s Bucky?”

Rhodey snorted loudly and Tasha rolled her eyes. “You have unbelievably single track mind, it’s amazing. You people collectively broke more international laws than most terrorists do and you keep yapping about your best friend. He’s fine; I negotiated with Ross to have him transferred to one of my facilities under heavy guard just in case the other Ross had any bright ideas. We-” she motioned to her team. “Are here to talk about the supposed Winter Soldiers.”

“Oh, so now you care?” Clint shot out, not even attempting to hide his discontent.

“Mr. Barton.” T’Challa cut in before Tasha could speak again. “The entire defense of your team sits on this supposed threat. Make no mistake; your position is very precarious.”

“Barnes already gave us some intel, we just want to corroborate that he told you the same thing.”

“And then what?”

Vision leaned forward in his seat. “And then captain Rogers, we are going to go and investigate the validity of those claims. I believe they will be taken into account when joint counter terrorism centre brings up the charges. I believe Mr. Ross has far more detailed explanation of how things will proceed from here.”

“And the Russians are just going to let you waltz in their backyard?” Sam sounded guarded and doubtful.

“Considering they have to deal with public backlash of Barnes being used as KGB’s assassin and likelihood that they have been storing several more on ice all this time after everything that happened, yes, they will let us just waltz into their backyard.” Rhodey ground out.

“Look, we will check this either way Rogers. You cooperating might do you some good. Time to start using that head of yours for something other than punching and thinking about your war buddy.”

“You mean compromise?”

Tasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not this again Rogers. I am not talking about this with someone who has not even read the Accords. None of you did, I bet.”

“You owe it -” “Enough Captain.” T’Challa was on his feet now. This was not how they discussed making their marriage public knowledge but he could not stand to watch any longer to his wife’s former team mate look at her like she was ultimate disappointment in his life. “My wife does not owe you or anyone here anything beyond the common curtsey of civil conversation.”

One could hear a needle fall in the room that is how silent it was. Steve noticed that aside from Rhodes, everyone was sporting various degrees of surprise on their faces. And Tasha looked uncharacteristically pleased with it. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“I assure you Mr. Barton; I would never joke on the matter of our marriage. You have never inquired if Tasha was seeing anyone, you just made assumptions. Besides, we preferred our privacy.”

“So it was another secret.” At best, he sounded like it was something he believed to be completely in character with her and was therefore disappointed that she did not learn from past experiences.

Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “Rogers…my marriage is of absolutely no importance to the events that have transpired in last few days. So fuck you for trying to use it as some sort of springboard for your moral crusade. I’m done.” T’Challa wasted no time in following after her.

“Tasha slow down.” It was not that he could not catch up with her but it was the way she was gripping her left arm while she was marching away that had him concerned. “I am sorry for blurting it out like that but I could not watch him step on you any longer.”

“It’s fine, really.” Her breathing suggested otherwise.

“What injuries did you sustain in the fight?” His eyes tried to asses her condition but aside from the black eye, she had no visible injuries.

“None. But uh, my left arm is kind of numb. Is that normal?”

No, it was not normal at all and the panic he experienced seconds before the bomb went off returned with full force. “You need to see a doctor straight away.”

“What? No, I’m good.”

“Please, intanda, do not argue with me. Not now.” Her acquiescence after his plea was short lived because not ten steps later; she collapsed and would have kissed the floor face first were it not for his fast reflexes. With relative ease, he scooped her up and called for help. He lost his father; he would not lose her too.


@queenyavengers So you wanted a secretly married IronPanther, yes? Here’s a short thing plus angst.

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finally finished my sanctuary hills settlement build

see my red rocket here!

Sherlock x reader

Oh Gosh, my first Sherlock one shot… I’m awful at this…it’s my first time, so it’s gonna suck.. 😫😩 I hope you enjoy anyway ❤ ____________________________________

 It was normal night in 221B, as normal as it could get with Sherlock laying on his couch, his fingers steepled under his chin as he thought. John went out an hour ago on another errand, leaving Sherlock and Y/n alone in the flat. One thing was on Sherlock’s mind at the moment: Why. Why was he feeling this way? Sherlock is a man who would use his mind for everything, never once listened to the trivial thing called a heart. Besides, caring is a disadvantage. He doesn’t have the ability to care–to love for that matter. But here he was, wondering why he cared so much for her. She was intriguing yes, interesting too. He knows so little about her, and for Sherlock Holmes, that’s saying something. He knows her likes, her dislikes, what ticks her off. He knows why she spends so little time with her family, but he couldn’t deduce her, he just can’t. It’s like every time he tried, there’s a wall, blocking him from view. There was just something about Y/n L/n, something he just can’t put his finger on. But maybe, it wasn’t her, maybe it was him. Maybe he wants her around, for the sake of just being there. That every time he’d try to deduce, his mind would block him from doing so, to try to get to know the girl like a normal man would, not by a glance. Maybe he– No. Not the time Sherlock. Remember what Mycroft said. 

Caring is a disadvantage.

 Remember what you told yourself. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. Nothing to gain from caring for someone, he preferred to be alone, alone protects. When you’re alone, there’s no one to worry and fuss over, you have no one’s back to watch but your own. Sherlock’s eyes open, staring up at the ceiling, taking a breath as the girl herself walks into the room from the kitchen, two cups of tea in her hand. She came back from work a while ago and had already changed into one of John’s old jumpers and a pair of comfortable sweat pants, her hair tossed up in mess of a bun. “Oh, Welcome back Holmes.” she muses, putting one of the cups down on the table close to him, “Thought you were gonna stay in there forever.” Y/n smiles at him, and Sherlock didn’t know why, but he smiled back. Sitting up, running a hand through his curly mop of dark hair, he takes the cup off the table, taking a sip of the liquid. “You brought new tea in.” He states, Y/n looks up from her book that was propped on her knees, eyebrows raised, “Oh, yeah. I noticed you ran out.” Sherlock takes another sip of the soothing Earl Grey, not his usual choice of tea, but this’ll have to do. “Sherlock.”                                     “Hmm?” The detective hums, pulling his eyes away from the window to look at Y/n, her brown eyes boring into his. “When was the last time you’ve eaten?” Sherlock sits up straight at the question, opting to lie to her, but that’ll be useless, he could lie with a straight face,no problem, but she always knows. “Three days ago. Why?”                                                                              “Three days……” Y/n trails off, closing her eyes in frustration, sighing she looks back at him, “You know, eventually your body is going to shut down on you because you’re not taking care of yourself.” He does that a lot, he doesn’t eat much, neither does he sleep much because he usually on a case and too busy thinking to focus on those normal important human things. “I take care of myself.” Sherlock scoffs, watching her get up from the armchair, walking to him to pull him up by his hand. “ C'mon We’re going out.” Sherlock reluctantly follows the girl out the flat, the two head up to Northumberland street to  Tierra Brindisa because Y/n was hell bent on Angelo’s best pasta.Upon getting there, the two walk to a table by the window, getting a clear view of the street and the people passing by. Y/n sighs sitting down as Sherlock does the same, resting his chin on his hand, staring out the window. Y/n starts eating when the food came, and to her surprise Sherlock did too. “You’ve gotta take care of yourself Sherlock, you’re gonna get sick.”                                                                   “Not like I haven’t done this before you know, I’m fine.” Sherlock counters, and Y/n fixes him with a look that makes him continue eating his food silently. The two had a light conversation, as light as it could get with Sherlock Holmes, Y/n is quite used to the man’s sarcastic nature by now, so it doesn’t bother her when he blatantly point out that she looked half dead with her lack of sleep. Between the times she works and bouncing around at any ungodly hour with Sherlock and John, she was way past insomniac. She stares at Sherlock, watching the way he rolls his blue green eyes at something she said the morning earlier. Reminding her of the time they got drunk and tried to solve a case. It was utterly embarrassing, and by far the most ridiculous thing she’s ever done with the boys. She was stone drunk, so was Sherlock and John, and she never got over the fact that John had spiked the drinks, and that they were drinking from measuring cylinders and no one said a word. Only to end up in custody, and a very long lecture from her uncle Lestrade, on the safety of drinking, blah blah blah. Y/n laughs, covering her mouth with her hand, Sherlock looking at her confused as he sip from his water. “What?” he asks, smirking slightly. “Oh, nothing. Just that you were practically kissing the floor rug.” The detective catches on, his smirk fading into a half glare. “That experience was utterly embarrassing, I made a fool out of myself.”              “You? I started crying because found one side of that lady’s shoe at the club.” Sherlock and Y/n share a laugh at the memory of her crying over the lost shoe of a woman she didn’t even know. Sherlock suddenly becomes serious, studying her, her smile, the way she’d laugh and sometimes snort somewhere in between. The way her eyes would always light up when he speaks to her, there was never a dull moment with her. She was always there, always caring, putting up with his shit. No matter what it is, though it did take her awhile to get over that time he faked his death. She welcomed him back with opened arms, it took a while, but eventually everything went back to normal. He being his arrogant and obnoxious self and she sassing him every time she’d get. And Sherlock had to admit, he cares for this girl–too much– he would go far enough and say he… loved her. Y/n sat and waited for him to stop thinking, smiling at him. He blinks a few times, “Why do I care for you so much?” he asks, tilting his head, looking much like a confused puppy. “Because that’s what friends do Sherlock, they care for each other. You are human you know, you have feelings.” she says, smiling still, taking his hand that was resting on the table, giving a gentle squeeze. While Sherlock tried to figure out a way to tell her, to even begin to tell her. Everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve done, all the time she’s been there. Yes, He loved her, very much too. Sherlock has the ability to care,to love. “Y/n… I-” he stops himself, furrowing his dark eyebrow as the words in his head just seem to jumble up. “Don’t worry Sherlock. I know. I love you too.”

Originally posted by highfunctioningosociopath-221b

No pain, no loss, no tears
The time is almost here
Our dreams will all come true
I promise you
‘Cause I can see for miles
And miles

In time we’ll be dancing in the streets all night
All night, all night
In time, yes, everything will be all right
All right, all right
It’ll take time
But we’re going far
You and me
Yes I know we are
In time we’ll be dancing in the streets all night

- “In Time” Robbie Robb

My part of an Art Trade with @rorichi!

Rori, I really want ot thank you, for our AT, for being my friend, for everything!

Yes, I’m going to say it all one more time, but I am just so greatful for everything you have done for me! I couldn’t ask for better friend! Thank you! :)


..Oh I’m open for Art trades! So if someone is interested.. ;;;;;;;;;;;;; 

leralynne  asked:

jyn/cassian, please!

To be extremely predictable and prosaic, “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie.

I know, but it really is perfect:

Turned away from it all like a blind man / Sat on a fence but it don’t work / Keep coming up with love but it’s so slashed and torn / Why, why, why?

Can’t we give ourselves one more chance? / Why can’t we give love that one more chance? Why can’t we give love, give love, give love…  

‘Cause love’s such an old-fashioned word
And love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure

No one knows why or how, but Ara dreams in black and white

like, in the weirdest way you can think of

anonymous asked:

Hi Petite Madame! I know this might sound whiny, but... I've come a long way with my drawing, but I have so, so far to go, and every time I want to work on getting better, I get super intimidated and feel like it's impossible. I can't think of any steps I can take that are small enough to be achievable so I just give up :( Have you ever felt like this? How did you get through it?

Hi anon!

I get super intimidated and feel like it’s impossible. I can’t think of any steps I can take that are small enough to be achievable so I just give up :( 

Congratulations, you are an artist! Artists have doubts, moments of discouragements, moments where they “whine”, yes, even King Kanye but at least he’s right about about a very important point:

Listen, if you made it from the beginning to where you are now, I don’t see any reasons why you can’t carry on your path as an artist. I know, I know, there’s a moment in their path where a lot of artists will have the impression to stagnate and not to be able to go further but it’s just an impression, a feeling, a mean little inner voice. Believe it or not, it’s a bit like going on diet: you lose weight rapidly at first, you are happy and then, boom, there’s a moment where, in spite of all your efforts, your weight stagnates and where you have the impression that everything you do is worthless, so you give up and go to MacDonald’s to eat a quadruple Big Mac or whatever sandwich they invented this week. Big mistake! You have to hold on and carry on no matter what because you will improve and yes, things DO get better with practice. Just don’t give up!

I’m just gonna post this series of artworks by Ethan Tennier-Stuart he did between age 13 and 18. Look at this!

That’s what I was explaining to another anon this morning: “Artists are not different from athletes or musicians. We become better by practicing again and again, exactly like a musician improves by practicing their scales and repeating the same movements on their violin or their piano. Don’t wait for inspiration or whatever muse to visit you. Draw, everything, all the time and you’ll see the result.” (Yes, I just quoted myself, I feel very Kanye this morning, but this quote is the truth, so….xD)

Have you ever felt like this? How did you get through it?             

Oh yes! Plenty of times!! It happened when I switched progressively from manga to realistic art and that the eyes of my characters still had a “manga touch” no matter what, it happened when I saw a super cool drawing on the internet and that I had the impression that I will never be able to do something this good, it happened what I failed more than 2 drawings in a row…or that I drew a super cool drawing and had the impression it was just a “one shot”, a stroke of luck and that I will never be able to do this good ever again, it happened when that art I found sooooo cool the day before was in fact a big piece of shit, etc, etc…

It’s perfectly normal. This feeling of frustration and of the unattainable perfection (or just feeling that you will never be good enough) comes and go, and can touch every artist whatever their art skills and their age. I was watching a documentary on Netflix the other day about a guy who did 22 covers for The New Yorker. 22 FUCKING COVERS. Guess what? He was full of doubts, had the impression that he was drawing always the same bullshit and that he needed to improve and to move on in order to renew his inspiration.

On the one hand, I can tell you that I got through it because I never stopped drawing whatever happened, because I was always inspired by other people’s work and this irrepressible urge to understand how they achieved this or that technique, because I always had ideas that I had to draw. But on the other hand, I never got though it because I’m a fucking artist, because I still have moments of heavy discouragement, because I feel sometimes that my art is boring and not imaginative enough, that I should be more “conceptual” instead of going for pure story telling and sequential illustration, that I should renew my style and work on dynamism and depth of field, etc…BUT NO MATTER WHAT, whether I’m at the top of the wave or at the bottom, whether I’m happy about my work or profoundly discouraged, I draw. Everyday, even if it means drawing a fucking tea pot or what I ate for lunch, even if what I do sucks ass, it doesn’t matter.

You get it? So now, go in front of your sketchbook or your computer and draw! You’ll see the improvements you made. Certainly not tomorrow but in a few months and you’ll be proud of you. Just don’t give up. ♥ If you don’t know what to draw, ask your friends to prompt you or go to browse art books (or art Tumblr) to motivate you! You can do it!!

anonymous asked:

Speaking of picking heirs, do you ever pick one and then fall in love with a different sim once they age up? I had everything planned for the oldest daughter. Then boom, the youngest ages up, and I just like her so much. I don't wanna get rid of everything I planned, but I'm so conflicted 😰

yes all the time!!!! never after actually announcing it or anything, but like when they’re teens and shit yeah, I’ve had my favourite switch fast and then I change my mind at the very last second. i’d say go with whatever you think you’ll enjoy playing the most in the end, if you force yourself to go through with your original plan you might get sick of it yknow?? you can always make new plans!!! :)

OK but

What about a big snb happy family? Just

Kaisar and Jeanne as parents, Mugaro/El as the son everyone would be the parent of, Azazel as the second former father or the onii-chan you should not look up to and Rita, Rita as the second former mother or the grandmother, babysitting all of them

Can you imagine,
Mugaro following Azazel around here and there
Aza using words children shouldn’t know about and then Mugaro repeating those same words to Jeanne.

Jeanne and Kaisar as shocked af parents who can’t believe El actually said that and both freaking out
Kaisar grabbing his head with both hands, internally and almost externally screaming
Jeanne babbling about incoherent things and randomly start telling El about the flower and the bee.

Rita rolling her eyes so hard, while Rocky facepalm on the floor.

precious family

//A Ratt’s living arrangements