bby u so pretty ; ;

anonymous asked:

do u have any nice blogs to recommend?? xx

helloo hi xx thank u for asking yes lets see

@farinacaro she’s a nerd whatever follow her i guess idk (i’m kidding i love her,, she is a nerd tho. and emo. sorry. love u bby)
@hometownn their blog is so pretty, and yay twenty one pilots, i just really like it
@hufflepuffperks puff pride
@ofrainbows such. pretty. blog.
@niallsthecraicdaddy i’ve been following them for ages,, 10/10 would recommend
@cryingfrompayne cutie+content what more could you ask for
@the-last-airbadger they’re into so many cool things omg
@dont-make-me-look-bad two words: fictional lesbians. a blessing.

everyone keeps changing their damn urls all the time and i can’t keep up so i probably forgot someone important, sorry for that.
now please everyone recommen me some blogs you like.

anonymous asked:

I live in El Paso, Texas and it's probably the worst city in the whole of the US. I've grown up here and it's terribly hot in the summer and there's absolutely nothing to do, even though we've got a population of 700k and are the largest border region in the US. It seems like people here have no drive to do anything and just do the same things over and over again. I'll be going to university in Seattle and I've never been more excited because I'll be in a place with ambition and cool weather.

!!! seattle is so pretti i’m glad for u bby

it’s the little things

*slides into Zev week late with starbucks* SO here’s a pointless little schmoop inspired by this awesome fanart of beautiful beautiful Zevran admiring his boots

“D… Do you like them?” Andreil asks at last. He’s been wondering for a while now, worrying, fretting, twisting his fingers and wringing his hands, but too afraid to ask. He doesn’t realize his words came as a strained whisper until he notices that the assassin hasn’t looked up from admiring the way the supple leather clings to his calves like they were made for him (which they were, because of course he knows Zevran’s measurements after much time spent admiring him and memorizing the graceful lines that make up his lovely, compactly muscled frame– and any old castoff boots would never do). The Warden clears his throat and forces himself to speak up, “Do you like them?” he asks again, and this time, Zevran looks up, eyes bright like sweet golden honey and sunbeams.

His teeth flash in that little half-smile he gets when he’s genuinely pleased (a far cry from his usual sly smirks and roguish grins– though those are incredibly appealing all the same) and tucks one booted foot behind the other, hands on his hips, posing. “Like them?” he asks with a scoff, “My friend, they are perfect! A flawless gift if I ever saw one.”

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