don't read these tags


I haven’t taken a selfie in a long time so here’s two pictures of me with my plushies Cheer Bear and Captain Toad. Captain Toad is my favorite plushie and I’m so upset I haven’t taken any pictures with him. So yea here’a a boy with 2 out of his one millions plushies (・∀・ )ノ

For future reference -

Sometimes people will reblog my fics and tag their Hawkes, and -

I’m super ok with it? I’ve seen writers and artists make posts asking people not to do this kind of thing, but I actually think it’s really cute and it makes me happy. Yes, I’m 99% of the time writing my Leopold Hawke, and in other situations our Hawkes might have completely different reactions, but in this one specific scenario they have something in common and that’s pretty neat?

anonymous asked:

daddy lessons by Beyoncé aka mercy and her 2 dads

ok i hadn’t listened to that song before until this ask and 1) good fucking song though why am i surprised 2) jesus i’m taking the wheel back b/c i gotta talk about this 

b/c here’s how i see it: angela was jack’s little girl and he’d be the moral-compass-overprotective-I will teach you everything you need to know-side of this song, the “take care of your mother/sisters/etc.”, the “he made me fight, he made me a soldier” “he told me about men like you” “he told me not to cry” “he held my hand” bits of it too. 

but angela was also gabe’s little girl, and gabe was the less fussy but more compassionate, more emotionally aware one, and he’s the side that’s “classic vinyl” and motorcycles and “he held me in his arms and taught me to be strong” “he made me dance” (he’s also the “baby girl he’s playing you” bit because gabe’s the only one of them w/any observation skills but that’s minor) 

and both of them are the “daddy said shoot” part because they both had to drill it into her head that her safety came before anyone else’s and she better damn well shoot that tic tac gun of hers if she’s ever in danger, be strong practically and mentally and shoot– 

anonymous asked:

Reblog if you're willing to answer anything that comes in your ask right now::: How did you realize you were a lesbian? And whats the best thing about girls both mentally and physically that you prefer over men?

Oooh wow okay //cracks knuckles

Strap in & prepare yourself for what’s below.

Keep reading


I’m really trying to get over this art slump, drew some TAU today to try and help me through. Get into the drawing mode and whatnot. 

I dunno. :V


in the end I got lazy and don’t want to enitrely finish it. so uh… why not host a pmv map lol (i do too many of these damn it) read the description for more info. shoot me an ask if you wanna join/have questions

youremorethanthatjemma  asked:

prompt: fs's first night in their apartment in the 6-month jump

this is really plotless but it’s kinda cute i think! thank you for the prompts you wonderful snowflake princess thing

“Not that I’m complaining about the decorations of choice,” Fitz disrupts the silence, obviously startling her by the gasp she lets out when he locks his arms around her waist, “but shouldn’t we, I dunno, bring in the rest of the boxes before we start that?”

Jemma squirms in his hold. She tries to be angry at him for sneaking up on her like that, but she’s still getting used to how nice it feels to be held by him so lovingly, so she lets it slide with a slight pout. 

“I’m just trying to make it seem more home-y,” she explains. “Have you seen this place? It’s huge!”

“To be fair, after getting used to the sleeping quarters of the bus and then the base for so long, our shoddy old SciOps apartment would look massive in comparison.”

She grins, “I’m still putting these out anyway,” and moves back to her task: lining up picture frames along the smooth wood of the living room shelf. There’s one, the oldest, of the pair that she had taken on a particularly slow lab day at the end of their first year, another in their graduation caps and looking starry eyed, the cheesy selfie from their first second field mission, and the most recent, a sweet one with the daylight reflecting off Jemma’s amber eyes and the giddiest smile on her face, mostly from Fitz’s scruff tickling her jaw as he had kissed her cheek unprompted before the camera’s shutter. 

Her fingertips linger on the edge of the last frame, and he grins into her shoulder. “I like that one.”

“Me too,” she cranes her neck to sneak a kiss to his temple before pulling a few more loose photos out of the box, selfies, candids throughout the years, the cheesy photo booth strip they’d taken two weeks ago at the movies to embrace the nauseatingly-in-love teenagers they never got to be for one night…

Fitz plucks it from her grasp and dashes off.

“And where are you going with that?!” she calls, chasing him to the kitchen to find him placing the strip in the center of the fridge door. 

“Our souvenir looked a little lonely, yeah?” He toys with the googly eyes decorating the fake conch shell magnet beside them, the bizarre little thing Jemma for some reason could not pass up at the gift shop for the life of her. 

Beaming, she weaves her arms around his neck, leans up on her tiptoes to press their foreheads together, in the style of the second photo booth picture. 

It’s silly that this tiny, quiet, moment pressed together in the middle of their half-empty kitchen—their half-empty kitchen—is the moment that allows the weightless feeling to flood through her veins. The world doesn’t rest on her shoulders. She isn’t afraid she’ll lose him every time he’s out of sight. The sun will rise ten hours from now and she will have more windows than can be counted on one hand to watch it from. 

Her gaze shifts back to the sappy pictures hanging from the magnet and she feels…normal. 

“I hate to disrupt what you’re concentrating so hard on,” Fitz says, rousing her from the thought, “but we have no food, whatsoever. Absolutely none.”


“Nope. Not one crumb.” He nuzzles her nose with his. “Can we do pizza?”

Jemma scoffs. “Really? You want to start our new lives off with the unhealthiest dish you can possibly think of?”

“I could’ve said dessert pizza.” 

She rolls her eyes. He runs his palms along her waist and starts kissing down her jaw, neck, and shoulder, murmuring a light please between each until she’s laughing hard.

“Alright! Alright, okay—Fitz! St-quit it!” She swats at his chest, still giggling. He catches her lips briefly, but with enough heat to make her head spin, and sprints to his phone to place their order. “But I want an appropriate vegetable to meat topping ratio! I mean it, Leopold Fitz!”

But if there does happen to be a handful of bacon bits more than spinach leaves, she might let that slide too. Just this once.