can i ride

Took me about a year of waiting, but today the Dro-m’Athra Senche is finally mine \o/

anonymous asked:

Assumption: You're one of the neatest and sweetest peeps I've seen on tumblr and your stuff is rad. (Oh wait that's not an assumption iT'S FACT OH NOOOOO). Okay but for real, I have the assumption that you like Halsey and/or have a bicycle with a basket.

Haha thanks. No and no. Actually I can’t ride a fuckin bike at all. I’m into rollerskaters tho

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andreil lil red riding hood au where neil befriends a golden wolf with sweets

i’m running with the wolves tonight

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give these to ur special someone and u have a 99.99999% chance of courting them I swear @penguinz-can-fly

“Keith tears his eyes away and focuses on Lance, whose mouth is slightly agape and eyes wide in awe. Lance has always loved the stars… Lance’s gaze is firmly on him, silent and serious and -

“Can I have a ride, cowboy?””

cue my sweet, northern usa tears over sweet, southern usa boys.
inspired by @tidalance ‘s red down a dead end!! its really nice (and so is she), please give it a look!!

commissions

*lance and allura fighting over who has a better bf*

allura: shiro is literally the head of voltron!!

lance: ok yeah but can he do this?? *points at keith riding a mechanical bull*

  • Evan: Bad News - Cynthia locked the keys inside the building.
  • Evan: Good News - We didn’t have to wait around for a locksmith.
  • Evan: Bad News - Cynthia finds it very concerning that I know how to pick locks, and tried to unlock my Tragic Backstory™. I was too embarrassed to admit that the reason I learned was because, at thirteen, I figured that was the kind of skill that would impress cute boys.
  • Evan: Good News - A cute boy saw me do it.
  • Evan: Bad News - It was Connor, and since he’s already seen me fall out of several trees, cry because I saw a fawn that was just too damn small, and knows I can ride a unicycle, he’ll never think I’m cool no matter what I do. It’s too late. He knows
  • Alexander: Bad News- Washington locked the keys inside the building.
  • Alexander: Good News- We didn’t have to wait around for a locksmith.
  • Alexander: Bad News- Washington finds it very concerning that I know how to pick locks, and tried to unlock my Tragic Backstory™. I was too embarrassed to admit that the reason I learned was because, at thirteen, I figured that was the kind of skill that would impress cute boys.
  • Alexander: Good News- A cute boy saw me do it.
  • Alexander: Bad News- It was John, and since he’s already seen me fall out of several trees, cry because I saw a fawn that was just too damn small, and knows I can ride a unicycle, he’ll never think I’m cool no matter what I do. It’s too late. He knows.

“Is Bruce in here?” Tim figured he might be— Bruce spent a lot of time in the children’s wing of Wayne Enterprises. There were a dozen or so kids in daycare most weekdays, and Bruce liked to hang out.

Tim liked to hang out too. They had nice snacks, and he’d known most of the kids since they were toddlers. And sometimes naps were mandatory.

“Conference call,” Damian told him. (For someone who claimed to hate naps, snackfood, kids, and humanity in general, Damian also spent a lot of time in the children’s wing.) “I don’t know where.” 

He went back to what he was doing, which was arranging a set of pewter soldiers into a complex model of a battlefield, presumably for the benefit of the preschooler sitting next to him. 

“What’s this?”

“The Battle of Issus, 333 BC.”

“Right, obviously.” Tim decided he was curious, so he settled down on the mats to watch.  Damian finished his model; he pulled a marker from the art table and used it as a pointer. 

“Okay. This is the Macedonian army, outnumbered but in the better tactical position, south of the Pinarus River. Their leader is Alexander the Great. And this—” He pointed to his enemy line. “—is the Achaemenid Empire. They’re about to lose.”

Damian tapped his marker on the Macedonian right. “This is the companion calvary, Alexander’s elite force, and they—” he cut off when he noticed his pupil digging in the toy bin, clearly distracted. The kid came up with a battered Transformer, which he set behind Damian’s lines. 

“Elliot. Alexander did not have robots.”

“But,” said Tim, rummaging through the box himself, “did he have wizards?” He pulled a bearded magician out of the tub and held it up for Damian to see. 

“You know he didn’t.”

Tim passed the wizard to Elliot. “But what if he did?”

“Drake.”

“How would that go?”

Drake.”

“Abracadabra, Alexander!” Elliot yelled, gleefully smashing through Damian’s entire left flank.

“Damn it, Drake.” Damian sighed in frustration— not quite the rise Tim was hoping for, but still something. He dropped Elliot’s discarded robot back into the box.

“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Tim told him. “Elliot’s four. He’s too young for— what is this— military history?”

“He was doing fine before you showed up.” Damian started to re-erect his soldiers, but he gave it up after Elliot came in for a second pass. “Which is typical, isn’t it?”

“Good one.”

“Thank you.” Damian crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll bite. When is he supposed to learn this kind of thing?”

“High school? Maybe never.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Frequently.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a second opinion.”

“I’ll wait.”

Damian checked the room for potential allies. “Thomas?” he called over his shoulder, “You learned military strategy as a kid, right?”

Duke looked up from the book he was reading to a pair of kindergardeners. “Just you, man.”

“Told you.” Tim fished a bag of plastic ninja from the toy box and arranged them pointedly into a row. “How are you still surprised by this kind of thing?”

Damian glared at him. “Okay, first of all? I’m not a— hold on a second. Elliot!”

Elliot froze with a large, plastic dinosaur held aloft over the battlefield. He drew it sheepishly back to his chest. “Sorry.”

“Not in the calvary wing,” Damian told him. “You’ll scare the horses.”

“Here?” Elliot pointed to the front of the phalanx.

“Yes.”

“RAWR.”

“Aim for his center.” Damian turned back to Tim. “Anyway. Why are you still talking to me? I thought we had an agreement about unnecessary contact.”

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this is the story of a prince who watched over his city as it slept. who went on foot, for fear of trampling one of the fallen, who wove his way between the bodies of his people. some would say he spoke, that even in the far-off darkness, the sleeping heard him whisper, over and over, 

“You are not alone.”

when you and the squad all ready to go out but none of you can drive so a mom has to