i just struggle with everything

6

— he has a monopoly on pain    |    @f-f-f-fight 

2

Someone’s in love with our soft boy Yuuri, I wonder who it is…


Small attempt of a comic from a AU of mine. It contains chubby Yuuri and many love letters from a certain Russian exchange student who didn’t pay attention in English class back in Russia and now has to suffer through the consequences of being shit at writing love letters, or English in general.

Yuuri still loves them tho.

Edit: before you ask, yes I did forget to draw his glasses like the idiot that I am : )

Our Little Secret-Part Five

Summary: You and Dean figure out how to tell Sam. Later the two of you try something that Dean hasn’t really done

SERIES MASTERLIST

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Square Filled/Kink: Face Fucking for @spnkinkbingo

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Smut, fingering, oral, rough sex, squirting, language

A/N: I’m sorry. I was going to wait until tomorrow afternoon to post this, but I couldn’t help myself. Thank you so much for reading. I absolutely love writing this series and sharing it with you. Any feedback is always appreciated.



“You want to tell Sam?” He’s got that crease on his forehead, “I thought you didn’t want him to know.”

You smile, stretching your neck, kissing right below his ear, “But you do.”

“You’re okay with it?” He’s confused, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m sure.”

You’re not sure, not at all, but you kinda need to take the chance.

Dean pulls you up, pressing his lips against yours, kissing you deeply before breaking away.

You giggle, “I guess it will be easier too, we won’t have to come up with excuses for getting a different room.”

Keep reading

if you think percy doesn’t know how to cook and annabeth is a great chief because she excels at everything then you literally Do Not Know sorry goodnight

Hello everyone, yes, I love Cheritz so much and as I’ve said many times before, I have happily sold my soul over to them. God, what perfect timing to get back into MM too, since this whole semester I was like “I need to get back into MM to relieve this stress and regulate my sleep cycle” LMAO. But… the fact that they’re doing ALL of this for us??? Really??? I love them so much. Please support Cheritz. I’m just going to happily throw more money into their company because I want them to grow and prosper and be successful. A Ray route???? A MINT EYE SPECIAL BELIEVER PACKAGE??? I remember how I was crying when I got my RFA VIP package and now this??? Even though I’m going to be alone on Christmas this year, this is honestly… such a good gift.

3

“he doesn’t look like a demon.”


“no.”


“he doesn’t act like one either.”


“no.”


a cloud string stuck between his teeth, yoongi glances over and scowls. they’ve been around long enough that he’s accustomed to namjoon’s curious equilibrium pertaining to both his thoughts and his communications, but sometimes he wishes the younger angel would just say what he’s thinking at the time. instead, he knows he’ll likely have to wait a full lunar cycle for the other’s opinion on what they should do, which means that they will also be housing an unofficial prisoner for just as long. his gaze trickles to the sleeping demon, lingers on the way he curls in on himself slightly, gets picky about whether the colors going prismatic in his hair are closer to pink or peach tones.


“how d'you get lost between heaven and hell anyway? there are signs!” his words come out round and thinly lisping as he moves the cloud string to one side of his mouth, finishes tying off the intricate braid with deft fingers and finally lets it go, watches that single string become hundreds that span out the way a fan unfurls, pinpricks of light dotting unevenly down their lengths like lost constellations. this is yoongi’s job, has been for centuries, to untangle the stars of heaven and send them singing each coming night. namjoon has long been the one to corral them every morning, leading them back to yoongi who complains here and there that namjoon could stand to keep them in better order but namjoon just laughs and tells him that’s yoongi’s job, not his.





*




it strikes namjoon as odd that for so much time things have been the same, strikes him in fact as slightly alarming that on this new moon he stumbled across a demon denoted only by the pinks of his eyes and the soft coiling shadow magic in his voice. to look at him, namjoon would have guessed he was a new angel, but not so.


“what’s your name?” he asked and the demon scrunched his nose, lowered his head, rested his hand at the back of his neck – made namjoon feel guilty for holding him up of all things and said,


“i don’t know.”




*



cross-legged, yoongi moves his frown from the demon to his best friend and sighs.


“hey are you listen–”


“i don’t think he knows one way or the other.”


yoongi blinks. namjoon shrugs.


“he doesn’t know his own name. i don’t think his grasp on location’s any better.”


the corner of heaven that they live in seems always placed between true morning and the end of night – not bright enough to be day but light enough to be open, a silver-white quality that drapes itself over every aspect from the garden to the slow-moving river. yoongi and namjoon too have a slightly softened aura about them, as if all their time in heaven has muted their sharps, which makes the demon stand out all the more: those pinks and peaches, that feather of blue, all of it. yoongi finds himself crouching near him, tilting his head.


“we could just return him,” yoongi muses but the way he reaches out to run his fingers curiously through the demon’s hair says otherwise.


“when he wakes up, we’ll ask.” for the most part, namjoon and yoongi each do what they want, but sometimes his friend gets this tone, a sort of weight in his voice that yoongi recognizes finally as a no-argument sensibility. they used to fight all the time, roiling storms that shook their stars and made even the mornings dark stormy creatures. these days they know each other better, sometimes to a fault; and it’s not that yoongi always agrees but in this case he doesn’t care to debate it. what’s the harm in a house guest when all they’re doing is sleeping?


in his sleep, the demon mumbles and yoongi leans closer, catches the whispering end of his dream:


“—n’t belong…mm?”


what yoongi feels: hurt. even if he doesn’t know why.


what namjoon notices: the soft relaxing of yoongi’s posture, the awkward way he tugs the blanket of spring cloud up to the demon’s shoulder which only ends in it skewing off of him as he rolls in his sleep, the slightly petulant jut of his lip when the demon does so.


well then.


namjoon reclines on his side and watches the souls below pass the way the humans watch cars in distant cityscapes, thinks: sure there are signs between heaven and hell but it probably doesn’t matter if you don’t know who you are. thinks: this boy bleeds of demon but dreams like a mortal.


and that can’t be right.


can it?


shuffling gets him to raise his gaze even as yoongi drops down beside him, their shoulders brushing.


“you gonna report him?” namjoon already knows the answer.


“not in a hurry.”


he laughs as yoongi uses his lower back as a pillow.


“then i guess we wait.”


out the corner of his eye he sees yoongi raise a hand above, splay his fingers, and sigh, watches sterling lights dance at the tips of those fingers and thinks what he has always thought about yoongi – even when they fought, even when they felt imprisoned together rather than bonded – thinks: beautiful. and he knows too that yoongi would laugh, would duck his head and probably shove him away in response but to namjoon that’s fine because that’s just yoongi.



*



when the demon wakes, he opens his eyes to one angel waving goodbye to another, catches him saying, “make sure you get them all!”


“i always do,” the taller one says and the demon can’t decide if the clouds swallow him up or if he becomes a cloud – though both seem equally strange.


“get what?” he hears himself ask then covers his mouth. he didn’t mean to actually ask him, but then the angel’s sharp dark eyes are on him so he sits up straight and tries not to look as unsettled as he feels.


“stars,” the angel says and the demon wonders if he’s making fun of him, if he’s joking. maybe he realizes because he chuffs a laugh – a low, soft almost purr of a sound and says, “that’s his job here.” from certain angles the demon thinks this shorter angel has starlight in his hair and across his skin, wonders what his job is if it’s the other’s to gather.


“where am i?” he asks, quieter this time.


“north star of heaven,” the angel says and then, brow quirking, adds, “where did you mean to go?”


the way the demon looks down at his own hands, the way he bites the inside of his cheek, says enough.


like his name, like anything at all, somehow the demon finds only one commonality: a soft void. if he was to try to put it into words he would say that it feels like these things he should know, these things that are a part of him, were stolen. but his nerves knot up in his chest, leave him clumsy in expression, anxious with his empty hands so all he says is all he has,


“i don’t know.”


yoongi sighs.


*



onbetween  asked:

Dude, I just want to say you are on FIRE. Lovin' yourself? Writing a novel? Making things? Livin' on your own and doin' your own thing!? Y E S. This is what I want to strive for and seeing you going for your own happiness and dreams makes me want to try. So, I guess, thank you for sharing that with the world. (I just want to add that you too probably have struggles and everything isn't roses and sunshine and that I don't idolize you. I'm just proud of you I guess!??? Idk)

this made my heart swell!!! seriously, thank you so much. means a lot <3

anonymous asked:

some kind of AU where Rose dates her superior, The Doctor. Could be student,teacher or worker,boss or whatever you want

Hey there nonny!!! I’m sure your interest in my fill for this prompt died a long time ago and its corpse is now gently crumbling away to dust, for which I deeply apologize. The thing is, while I totally understand why folks like AUs, they’re not my thing (I tend to be a stickler for canon or canon-divergent stuff, with the exception of fem!versions of the Doctor), and after a series of former jobs with male supervisors who were, well, kinda dickbags a lot of the time, I’ll admit I had a hard time getting over that and struggled with this prompt quite a bit. (Seriously, I’ve been working on a response to this for two and a half years now!) However, because I do have stuff written, and it seems a shame for it to just languish away in my WIPs folder untouched by the light of day, Imma go ahead and post what little I did manage to get written over the last 28 months. And here’s the dilly: if someone else sees it and feels a mighty need, I’d be more than happy to send them my notes or do a bit of collab with them if they’d like to pick up the trail from here!

<3 <3 <3

pygmalion’s revenge


Rose Tyler is, in no particular order, 24 years old, British, white, female, a stage actress, a former gymnast and current runner, a connoisseur of chocolates and films starring Idris Elba and Colin Firth, and, despite being a dreadful flirt, just a tad bit dense when it comes to picking up on signs of a certain nature.

The epiphany smacks her like a hand to the face, dawning on her sometime in a grey morning in her tiny London flat. Evidence of a job hunt is spread over her dinged old kitchen table, a small mountain of newspapers and printouts with her laptop sitting pretty and victorious at the peak, all of them hiding pockmarks and coffee-rings and something that looks suspiciously like a cigarette burn which Shareen swears up and down that she knows nothing about. Rose stares at it all while her sleep-lagged brain tries to decide whether her mouth wants tea or coffee. (Tea is the obvious answer, and the likely victor, but sometimes a mug of foul-tasting jet fuel is just what she needs to get through the morning. “Morning person” does not number among the many things that Rose Tyler is.) And while her eyes stare and her eyelids droop and her brain pontificates, even though it’s got nothing to do with anything, somewhere in the back room of her subconscious some part of her just realizes.

The Doctor is totally, completely arse-over-heels in love with her.

“Jesus, Jack,” she asks, without preamble, the moment her flatmate steps into the kitchen, “Am I an idiot?”

Jack’s resounding laughter lets her know that yes, in this particular case, “idiot” ranks very high on the list of things that Rose Tyler is.

***

Rose first met the Doctor when she was 19 years old, neither a gymnast nor a runner nor someone with even her A-levels, working a dead-end job at Henrik’s. She had nabbed the position in an attempt to chip away at the several-thousand-pound-debt incurred by a year of irresponsible living with a good-for-nothing boyfriend. (Thanks, Jimmy.) And the day she met the Doctor, she had just clocked out at the end of her shift and stepped into the ancient lift, so absorbed in her fashion magazine with some silly name (Belle or Metropolitan or Splendor or some such rot) that she didn’t even look up when the doors opened and someone joined her.

She frowned. There it was again.

This time the text was splashed in white across a model’s bright blue jumper—“Bad Wolf.” Those words kept popping up everywhere Rose looked. She saw them spray-painted on bins, printed on takeaway menus, in big black letters outside stuffy-looking office buildings, on the bottoms of pink and yellow nail polish sets. The phrase had popped up everywhere seemingly overnight. What was this obsession with Bad Wolf, and more importantly, why did no one else seem to notice it?

Keep reading

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hmm, what could this be, not another au for two certain characters, nope, i’m not that predictable at all, nuh uh.

got the story for this lightly hashed out start to ending, dont know if anyone’s interested in me actually writing it.

Humans were a drunken creating mistake by the gods.

The gods wake up one morning, hungover from partying. Looks Down at the small planet they have been working on.

“What the fuck is that???”

What I should be doing: Reading my linguistics book, studying Japanese vocabulary and Kanji, reading my meditation book

What my brain wants to do: Continue plotting the epic fix it time travel Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan gen fic my brain stumbled over inspiration for last night. 

anonymous asked:

Most heartbreaking queer as folk scene/moment/episode whichever not including prom scene

Hahaha nice caveat there, nonny, I see you.

I’m going to go with this moment right here:

Everything, I repeat, everything about this moment is heartbreaking. There’s Brian, who is quite literally the weakest and most vulnerable he’s ever been, in a great deal of physical pain, who’s terrified to tell his partner, the person he loves most in the world, that he has cancer and is no longer perfect, because he thinks he’ll no longer love him. He can’t stand the thought of him leaving, but even more, he can’t stand the thought of Justin staying with him out of some sense of obligation and starting to look at him not like he’s the most incredible man in the world, but with pity and resentment in his eyes.  But he so clearly craves Justin’s touch, his tenderness, his love, so he takes it, finally allowing him to fall asleep under his care. He went to Baltimore alone, went into surgery alone, woke up alone… and you know all that time there was nothing he wanted more than to feel Justin’s arms around him to make him feel safe and warm and loved. And he finally has that again, but he can’t bring himself to share just why it’s so powerful this time. 

And then there’s Justin, who knows Brian has cancer, but doesn’t know his prognosis. That’s a fact I think sometimes gets overlooked; Justin doesn’t know if Brian’s cancer is curable or terminal, but you know he’s fearing the worst. He’s probably already imagined a thousand possibilities of what his life would look like without Brian, what it would feel like to lose him forever, and each one of them is more devastating than the last. And he can’t let Brian know. The love of his life may be dying, and there’s nothing he can do. It’s already a helpless enough feeling to have your loved one be sick, but he’s not even suppose to know! So all he can do is try to take care of Brian and offer him comfort, but never too much, not as much as he’d like to, or else he risks Brian finding out that he knows, and who knows what would happen then?

What I think makes this arc so powerful is that we have three main types of conflict: man vs. nature (Brian’s cancer diagnosis), man vs. self (the effect of Brian’s cancer on his identity and his fear of letting others know he’s sick), and man vs. man (Brian and Justin’s efforts to keep Brian’s cancer a secret and the fallout that results when the cat’s out of the bag). Any of these would be heartbreaking on their own, but when they’re all crashing into each other, spiraling out of control, it’s especially devastating to watch. 

My art from 2006-2017 since i was 10 years old!
I wrote a bit about my style development if you’re interested; (also if you have any questions feel free to ask!)
2006-2007: Usually drew my friends and cousins in stories based on whatever game or cartoon i liked at the time (like harvest moon or something)
2008-2009: Started drawing my own comic and i drew a chapter like 14 pages per week and i drew it for like 2 years somehow, only my cousins and school friends read it, i will never post it omg its sooo shonen manga inspired and just really bad but such a fun read looking back.
2010: i was struggling with colouring my art digitally, i was just so bad at everything, couldn’t colour traditionally either, until i found Sai which was a life saver. Started using it by linearting my art traditional then colouring it on Sai.
2011: Started linearting digitally, joined a lot of RP groups on DA and met a lot of cool people i’m still friends with. Had a generally good year and drew a lot.
2012-2013: Got bored of linearting and decided to try lineartless, back then i just didn’t know how to do lineartless or even searcg for a tutorial for it so i just did this really weird technique where i used like loooots of layers and each part was a layer or something, just very impractical but i actually did a lot of finished illustrations this year surprisingly.
2014: Tried a different painting style which was better, style became more feminine as i started drawing more adopts on DA. Felt like i didn’t do much this year bc i was focused on adopts also my style just toke AGES.
2015: Tried another style AGAIN this time it worked out, tried linearting with pencil and colouring digitally, i used to do tgis back in 2010 when i first got Sai, its weird that i went back to it after a few years.
2016-2017: Continued developing the same ‘style’ but kinda changed my aesthetic a lot, focusing more on colours and making my colouring less glossy, and drew much much more than any other year.