i cant remember what my face tag is

My mom loves telling people at parties just how ‘bright’ I am and how I’m always reading something, she does it all the time.

Mother. Stop. I’m reading gay fanfiction.

So, okay, there was this day, at this party, and she did it again but this time she took my phone off of my hands to show them (It was in english, not native, so no one knew what I was reading) and I SWEAR TO GOD, one of them suddenly had this look of recognition on her face and she fucking winked at me.

And that’s the story of how my mom’s friend knows I ship Sterek.

3

y tho

HEYYY my first time drawing this guy! I kinda made him a bit chibi-ish because it was a cUTE REQUEST OK

[Proferror belongs to @loverofpiggies!]

You know what? Your face looks like my butt.

Oh yeah? You must have such a good looking butt.

I was feeling a little stale so I thought I’d paint some of my fav Fallout 4 characters starting with MacCready.

On that note, my fav is a trashbag twelvie send help

Piper next maybe

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK I CANT COPE WITH ALL THE HATERS BULLSHIT IN THE CERSEI LANNISTER TAG RN
YOU ALL SALTY BITCHES GOING “LMAO KARMA” CAN KISS MY ASS OMFG
WE ALL KNOW WHAT SHE’LL GO THROUGH IN LIKE TWO EPISODES OKAY
YET SHE’LL FACE IT AS THE TRUE KICKASS QUEEN SHE IS, UNLIKE YOUR PRETTY LIL TYRELL FLOWER OF A FAKE BITCH
AND LET US ALL REMEMBER THAT EVEN IN BOOKS THATS NOT THE END OF HER. SHE’S NOT DEFEATED OKAY SO YOU CAN ALL BASICALLY JUST FUCK OFF AND REDIRECT YOUR FRUSTRATED HATRED ELSEWHERE BC A FLOCK OF UNWASHED BIRDS WILL NOT PUT AN END TO A FREAKIN LIONESS BYEEEE

“i’m a skeptic”

There is no such thing as ghosts

Or monsters

Or alternate realities.

(He will tell anyone who will listen: “I’m a skeptic.”)

There is no truth in horoscopes

Or star signs

Or psychic connections.

(Sure, there are things he believes in but a false sense of self is not one of them.)

There are things that make sense to him: work, the car ride home, craning his neck to look up into his favorite face.

There are things that don’t: fearing the end of the day, idling in the driveway when he should be driving away, the guilt that comes with loving that favorite face of his.

So there is no truth in palmistry

(But there is truth in the hands he has known and touched and held all his life.)

There is no such thing as UFOs

(But he gets caught peering up at a star with his name on it.)

He scoffs at seers, at oracles, at their visions of the future.

(But maybe there are some things he believes in.)

There is a past, there is a present, there is a “he and I”

There is being one half of a whole, there is growing up and growing older and never dreaming of growing apart

And there are not many things he believes in but there is youth, there is love, and there is fate.

There is destiny, and belonging

And a place he fits perfectly.

He holds no stock in superstition but he looks into that favorite face of his and knows “this is just where I should be.”

(And he would never admit it)

But he can’t hide his smile when his best friend, his brother, his favorite face laughs with eyes screwed up when he says, “I’m a skeptic.”