no it's not we're bros

the best cure for being miserable is the misery of someone you hate. or puppies.

Off and on

So I was going to draw more Graves-backs, but then it all ended up as more of an outfit design appreciation aah
Art blog: questionartbox

Happy Birthday @nojuro !

Cost of Freedom (16/52)

Summary: In which Kaito and Shinichi have escaped. Prison!AU.

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“I wanted to drive.”

Kaito grumbles from where he is holding on to Shinichi’s waist, air slapping against his arms as they race down the dirt path, following behind Hattori on the motor bike. He doesn’t know how quickly they’re moving - although he’s pretty sure that it’s fast - but it doesn’t seem quick enough.

He wants to yell at Shinichi to move at a much more rapid pace, even if it’s dangerous - especially because it’s dangerous.

“You were tased,” Shinichi shouts back, and almost as if he’s read Kaito’s mind, he revs the bike, pushing it further, faster. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive.”

Keep reading


Icecream Taco sketch dump. Because why make comic pages when you can MAKE THISS!! 


anonymous asked:

Being aromantic isn't always easy, so I thought I should give a nice story kinda? I've known I was aro since my late teens, but now I'm 28 and super happy. I'm married to my best friend, who is also aro, (we wanted the benefits of marriage [we're both allosexual tho so friends with benefits in more ways than one]) but it's great because it's like "bro" "b r o" "bro did you know we're married" "holy shit bro,,, like platonically?" "bro,,, totally" and we have two dogs and a fish, I'm happy

Thanks anon! Very grateful for your story :)

wow fandom: we need to push back against this poll … for the sake of representation! everyone go to the comments and tell blizzard what the fans really want! lets get some votes for wranduin!! thassarian/koltira!! asric/jadaar!! garrosh/marcus johnathan!!! khadgar!! 

me, staggering into the room 20 minutes late in stylish high heeled boots, holding a massive grimoire full of all my potential commander lorna crowley femslash ships: hey guys, i brought the - oh, oh we’re just gonna be doing the dude thing here, aren’t we 

Obi Wan sat staring at the console on the sleek ship, comlink waiting idly in his hand. After nearly two years of apprenticeship, he had already learned many of his master’s habits. The tall Jedi’s extended absence and lack of communication suggested that somehow, somewhere, Qui Gon Jinn had stumbled upon yet another pathetic life-form. The young padawan closed his eyes and leaned back in the cushioned chair, hoping against hope that this latest hypothetical pet project would at least be lacking in such things as tentacles and teeth. It was unlike his master to remain out of contact for so long without a reason.

“Excuse me, young Jedi.” The queen’s handmaiden- Dorme, was it?- interrupted his brooding. “Her majesty requests your presence. We are receiving a transmission from Naboo.”

Obi Wan nodded and followed the girl to the queen’s receiving room. He bowed deeply and sat near the Captain of the Guard, glancing fleetingly at the young monarch while the technician patched the message through. Obi Wan had been astonished to learn that the ruler of the Naboo was barely a year older than him, but Queen Amidala had already proven herself to be both brave and compassionate, and worthy of her peoples’ faith in her. Still, he sensed her pain and anxiety as her advisor’s holoimage pled for her assistance. She may think it worth the risk to contact him personally. She would listen to Qui Gon if he was here- he always commanded respect and loyalty, even from people he’d just met. Obi Wan summoned his most authoritative tone. “Make no reply,” he commanded, striding from the room. Then, for good measure, “make no transmissions of any kind.”

Thankfully, Qui Gon was finally able to answer Obi Wan’s comm. “Master,” he breathed, relief and aggravation evident in his tone. “You’ve been out of contact for hours.”

“I am sorry, Obi Wan. I’ve been attempting to negotiate for the parts we need. Were you aware that Toydarians are immune to mind influence where money is concerned?”

“I was not, Master, though I’ll be sure to remember it the next time we’re stranded on an uncivilized dustbowl,” he quipped, then remembered the reason for his comm. “Master, we’ve had a transmission from an official on Naboo- a plea for help, though I sense it is a trick. I told the queen not to reply, but I fear she may become desperate where her peoples’ lives are concerned.”

“You did rightly, Padawan. It sounds like bait, to establish a connection trace.”

Obi Wan was grateful for the confidence evident in his master’s voice, but it still left them in a difficult position. “What if it is true, and the people are dying?” 

Qui Gon sighed. “Either way, we are running out of time.”

The connection ended, Obi Wan took to pacing restlessly around the ship’s comm center. Though grateful for his master’s faith in him, he still doubted himself. Often. And right now he sincerely doubted his ability to keep the queen from making a transmission. After all, he wasn’t quite fourteen. His robes and cloak surely weren’t enough to inspire authority from anyone. His newly-build ‘saber might do the trick, but it seemed to him that whatever intimidation he could count on from that account was always sure to be outweighed by the undignified dimples that marked the last vestiges of childhood on his adolescent face.

And there was something else- though they were many klicks apart for their conversation, Obi Wan had sensed that Qui Gon was keeping something from him. Something important. He’d felt a disturbance in the Force when they’d landed on this horrible, sand-covered world, and his master’s secrecy was not a source of inspiration. Sighing, he turned his focus back to the present moment, where it belongs, padawan mine. After all, it wasn’t as though there could be anything life-changing to be found in a place like this.