So I heard you like Shiro? I’m so proud of myself for actually finishing this and not leving it half-done on my desktop for 6 months (like I usually do~~). PS I know his mouth is uneven (he’s biting his lip, you just can’t tell because I HAVE NOT ZE SKILLZ… oh well).

I recorded this, too, so expect a speedpaint soonish. Enjoy~

Closeup below the cut aww yis:

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aim for pyjama nirvana


If Baymax was an Android AU.  Baymax still sounds and acts like himself, but looks like Tadashi’s clone…

Uh, so yeah, when I first thought of drawing a gijinka, the above image popped into my head first.  I started cracking up in the middle of a Japanese subway… >.>  Anyway, went with Dashi-clone version ^ ^

Also, extra! <3

And really guys, I shouldn’t have to say this, but PLEASE DON’T REPOST MY WORK. Nothing demotivates me more than seeing people lopping up my comics and reposting them.  Thank you so much to those who have been telling me about reposts.  If you want to continue seeing my doodles, please, please just reblog.  Thank you. m(_ _)m

state o things of late

All the ways you probably procrastinate during finals.

delaying or postponing action.

hanging out with your bae at Denny’s instead of studying.

knowing that no matter how hard you try to study, you’re destined to wind up here, scrolling around looking at stuff.

when you study for like 10 minutes then reward yourself for your efforts by streaming movies for three hours then taking a nap.

someone who sits on a couch while not studying.

putting off studying for so long that you wind up just staying up the entire night before your final in a coffee-induced haze.

kidding yourself into thinking everything’s gonna be great while you do anything except studying.

any form of temptation that keeps you from studying.

when you’re angry about having to study and just troll everything instead of doing any actual work.


 Now i know what grief feels like, now i know what anger feels like, i might even know what love feels like, i’m not a fan. I’m out.


Even in this life, Eren is just as stunning as Levi had remembered, especially now when he finally has the boy sprawled in his sheets. He wakes up just before dawn as usual, carefully tiptoeing around his apartment to avoid disturbing Eren’s sleep. They’d talked and made love all night, and even now Levi finds himself casting longing glances towards the bed and the couple of tufts of brown hair visible from under the covers. How nice it would be to just curl up in Eren’s arms and never let go of him, and once again Levi has to reminds himself that they have all the time in the world now that they’ve at last found each other.

His day begins with a cup of strong coffee and a piece of toast as he sits by the kitchen table, watching the first rays of the sun cast their light upon the city. His apartment has large windows with a view over the busy downtown area, and that’s where he likes to think he creates all his best work. There are unfinished pieces and some painting supplies scattered across the spacious studio apartment, and Eren has gasped in delight upon seeing them.

“That’s so cool, this place really looks like an artist’s home,” he’d chirped, though he’d been mildly confused by the lack of any couches or TVs or other conventional furniture. Levi had been nearly blinded by that beautiful, bright enthusiasm that he’d simply had to kiss Eren right there and then, swallowing up the pleased little sound he’d made at the back of his throat at the sudden show of affection. It had been over a thousand years since their last kiss, after all.

Since Eren had shown up on his gallery opening completely at random without no prior warning and Levi had subsequently whisked him off back to his place as soon as he could, he hadn’t had the chance to hide some of the more embarrassing pieces he’d been working on. Somehow those forest green eyes had made their way to more than one of his works as he’d tried to conjure up the rest of those features that had haunted him for his whole life. Eren’s eyes were all he could recall, so he’d painted them on a dozen different people in an effort to remember. Then, after one shared look across the room when he’d least expected it, he’d been flooded with memories.

The warm, yellow sunlight makes Eren’s skin glow as he nuzzles into his pillow, and without even thinking, Levi finds himself reaching for his sketchpad and oil pastels. He’s never witnessed a more beautiful scene in his life, so of course he’d want to capture it on paper. Now that he finally has Eren, really has him in the flesh, he wants to paint and draw him every which way so that he’ll never forget about his soft, wispy hair and the smooth skin that’s bathed in the golden light of the morning.

With each passing minute, more and more of the gentle light filters in through the windows, accentuating each curve and bend of Eren’s muscles as he lays there, shifting a little so that the duvet covering him slides a little lower. His chest and stomach are bare, now, his arms tucked under his head and those delicious full lips parting as he mumbles something in his sleep. He looks so innocent like this, a kind, lovely soul who’s been through so many hardships that, in this life, he deserves nothing but sweet words and comfort and happiness. A real angel, that’s what he is, and especially now when he’s peacefully resting in the brilliant morning light, Levi could easily believe him to be something ethereal, something out of this world.

Slowly, those forest green eyes blink open, and Levi’s heart stops for a moment as Eren smiles at him in recognition.

“Hey,” he speaks out, his voice hoarse from sleep, so full of affectionate warmth and pure blinding light that even the sun couldn’t rival it. “What time is it?”

“A little past six,” Levi whispers, because somehow this moment feels so divine that he can’t bring himself to speak any louder. “You can go back to sleep if you want, it’s fine.”

Eren’s brows knit together as he sees the sketchpad in Levi’s hand. “Are you drawing me?”

“No.” Levi swallows heavily. “Uh, maybe.”

He waits for disapproval, waits for Eren to scoff at him and tell him that he’s being creepy, but what he gets is only a lopsided smile. “Not sure if I’m that good of a model, though. I thought you were more into modern art, anyway.”

“You’re a perfect model,” Levi states, pleasant flutters running along his spine as he sees a slight blush rising to Eren’s cheeks. “Stay still for a few more minutes, I’m almost done.”

Eren settles back into the pillows, but not before insisting that Levi has to show it to him once he’s done, a condition he gladly agrees to. Though he feels a bit nervous with Eren’s intense gaze on him, his hand is steady as it moves over the paper, drawing softly defined plains of golden light over exposed skin. Eren’s the best and also the most tempting model he could ever have with his long graceful limbs and sleek muscles, his whole body a work of art in itself.

“So beautiful,” Levi speaks under his breath, and Eren probably hears it since he lets out a tiny laugh and buries his face into the pillow.

He’d asked for only a few more minutes, sure, but as Eren changes position and causes the duvet to fall even lower and expose the ample curve of his ass, Levi has to take a very slow, purposeful breath. It’s early, and they have time, he reminds himself. Even so, he thinks he’ll have to examine Eren’s body a little more closely. For artistic reasons, of course. As he sets down his sketchpad and crawls back into bed with Eren, he’s so incredibly warm and content, probably beaming like the damn sun that’s rising over the horizon outside.

if you buy thor a cup of coffee (and ask him nicely), he’ll recharge your cell phone for you.

just for a change 
if it’s not too much trouble
stop fucking talking 
about what other people are eating.
i don’t care that he’s fat and buying
six sandwiches. it’s none of your business.
even if you’re a nutritionist, he’s not 
your patient. he shouldn’t blush 
and mumble his order because 
of the way that you treat him. for all you know,
those sandwiches are going to orphans.
and even if he’s going to eat them himself:
it’s his body, my dude, you don’t get to
police it.
my friend is thin and has celiac disease 
and the number of elitist dickbags who snort at her
every time she asks for gluten-free is so astronomically high
if we built a ladder out of them, we’d break the glass ceiling. i 
have heard: “that diet doesn’t really work, you know,” “you're 
thin already, why bother?” “just eat bread it’s not that bad 
for you!” flung in her face about every time 
she sits down to eat. she has to be polite about it
and tell them the truth 
or else for some reason, they’re angry.
but why do i have to inform you, a stranger, 
about my personal health situation
before you pardon me? why is it that i have to admit 
that i’m lactose intolerant before someone allows me to
drink soy milk? it’s not the blood of virgins 
and it’s not hurting you to shut the fuck up without
snickering about how girls are always trying new diet things.
why does anyone with any hint of curve have to 
talk about their genetics, their thyroid, why do they
have to explain to your fuck of a peabrain
before you “forgive” them for the sin
of just eating?
i hate that i feel like i have to apologize when i’m ordering,
that if i’m buying only ice cream i feel like i have to explain
i’m not buying it for myself only. i hate feeling like
brownies and cake and good things are
all “indulgences” but 
carrots and broccoli and good things are
all “dieting.” why the hell do i have to feel bad about a plate
overflowing with food? why the hell do i have to feel bad 
about anything i do?
how about instead of snickering that sally’s eating salad
because she’s trying too hard to fit in
you shut your fucking
about it.
—  I will literally eat you whole. Try me. See if I won’t. // r.i.d

My absolute favorite about that update was the implications of Bitty making Jack’s PB&J. We all know it’s his pre-game routine. Pre-game routines are sacred. You don’t change those just out of the blue.

The fact that he let Bitty make his sandwich, that he has a special routine for when Bitty is around to leave him notes and give him his PB&J speaks so much to me about how they’ve handled this relationship. Jack is letting Bitty into his life, I think, more than he’s ever had anyone in. He’s not only a part of his personal life, he’s a part of his hockey routine. They’re both so all-in, even though nobody knows that yet. They’re really trying to make this work.