h!p fans

Host: so, Louis, how do you handle fans approaching you while with Freddie?
L: oh…uhm, see. Actually it’s quite, ugh, it’s actually, haha, it’s not really a problem, because, uhm, you see, fans never really stumble upon us together as we’re really, ugh, you know, haha, me and the lad…I don’t know, somehow they never catch us around, lol, weird, I wonder why, but, you know…………

friendly reminder that jason todd is mentally ill

I’ve been noticing lately that A LOT of fic writers like to erase jason’s mental illness in their writing and I’d just like to point out that, by doing that, you’re erasing a huge part of his character. jason todd is not just some misunderstood bad boy who secretly loves classic literature and makes bad puns and just wants to feel loved. is he all of those things? absolutely. I’d even go so far as to say those things are all essential to his character. but jason is also canonically mentally ill. and (especially in more recent canon) it is implied that jason knows that he’s mentally ill. a lot of jason’s character development comes from his journey through the process of piecing together his past with his new personality and mentality. to write jason as neurotypical is to completely ignore an important aspect of his character, not to mention denying representation to mentally ill fans who relate to jason and see their own symptoms reflected in him.

friendly reminder that jason todd is mentally ill.

HOLY FAECES! :’0 did @therealjacksepticeye just do a kick-flip????

i love @cheapcookiez subscribe&punch so much, its about time i drew one of their designs :’D sorry for the skateboard cookie, i couldn’t find any proper reference so i just kinda did my own take on that??

also sorry for the crappy, rushed art. i’m supposed to be studying so i needed to do this quick :’0 

anonymous asked:

A1 Gabe and Adrien?

You gave me father-son feels, dang it.

“It’s ok Adrien, I’m here. You’re safe.”

“I-I miss Mom…”

“…I do, too, Adrien.”

//lowkey wishes this happened after the Christmas special = 3 =

kristsune  asked:

16 and sterek maybe?? :D

16. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

The dates are perfect. Nights spent curled up on the couch watching their favorite movies. Afternoons out discovering restaurants neither had been to before for lunch. Entire weekends sharing each other with the rest of the pack and growing ever closer and closer and closer…

Stiles has no complaints. He’s never before thought he could enjoy spending so much time with Derek. Yet here he is, constantly moving his schedule around to fit Derek in at every available opportunity. He doesn’t even really mind that they haven’t made whatever is going on between them official. It’s nice to just take it easy for once.

But still he has that voice in the back of his head. The one that wonders why Derek never seems to want to initiate contact. That worries when Derek purposely angles his face to avoid a kiss. Stiles can’t help but doubt that Derek even really likes him at all.

“You know that’s not true, Stiles,” Derek argues, looking more hurt than angry at Stiles’ comment.

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet? Why won’t you hold my hand or even hug me? We are dating right?” Stiles says.

“Because every time I kiss someone they seem to end up dead!” The air around them rings in silence for a long moment. “Or they try to kill me. Most of the time it’s both.”

Derek is staring at the ground with his jaw clenched and hands drawn into fists at his sides. Stiles watches him long enough to see his shoulders lift higher and higher with tension until he can’t take it anymore and he steps up to Derek. He reaches slowly toward Derek’s hands, running his fingers softly along the white knuckles. There’s blood smeared across his palms and the tips of his fingers when Stiles pulls apart Derek’s fists, but he ignores it.

“Okay,” he says finally, voice just louder than a whisper.

Derek’s heavy brow furrows in confusion but relaxes when he sees Stiles’ face. 

“We can wait. Or we don’t ever have to,” Stiles says, swallowing the thickness built up in his throat. “You choose the pace.”

He goes to slip his hands out of Derek’s, but Derek grabs them before he can, squeezing them between his warm fingers. Stiles smiles at that, letting his arms hang loose in front of him. With soft gazes and joined hands, they come to a silent agreement.