my town has been fighting with whether or not to let people in the town limits keep chickens and they finally decided that people could keep chickens but they have to be documented and something about people being busted for “undocumented chickens” is so absurd to me. Like the wording and the the whole situations is just idk
Sketch (lineart with shading) - $2.50
Flat color sketch (lineart with color, no shading) - $2.50
Icon (flat color with picture as background, i.e. pride flag, pattern, etc) - $2
Traditional (drawn on paper with pen) - $2
Bust (full color with shading, pattern or texture as background) - $5
All commissions will have my watermark, just so they can’t be claimed as someone else’s work
Payment is due over paypal upon sending the final commission (I can send it over tumblr messages, email, instagram dms, or I can post it on either my main blog, fandom blog, or art blog)
I’m keeping them inexpensive in the hopes that they’ll be more affordable and accessible - if you’re interested send me an ask or message
Well now aren’t these two are a pair. No, really, I’ve been thinking a lot about identification and desire in this third series, and Magnussen’s like a slightly grotesque reflection of Sherlock. He’s in a strange opposition to Moriarty, almost like superego and id. (I’m not fond of Freud’s id/ego/superego theory, too schematic for me, but it does interesting work here. To review: id is base animal instinct, driven by the pleasure principle without restraint; ego is primary self, operating through the reality principle to make sense of the self-in-the-world; superego is civilization, the strictures of morals and manners.) In appearance Magnussen could hardly be farther from Moriarty:
In psychological function, too, they’re starkly differentiated: Moriarty raving in that padded oubliette is pure id, real bloody bottom-of-the-brain stuff, unfiltered by reason. (“Padded oubliette” is sublim8’s term, and it’s perfect for this grimy cell of the unconscious.) He’s fixed on the primal forces—fear, pain, death; mother, father, sex (the Woman)…and John. Love. The force that opposes Moriarty at the core of Sherlock’s being. When Jim tells him that heartbreak, loss, and death are “all good,” John in reality touches his face and calls to him. Reaching in through the purest animal need to live, John will always call Sherlock back to his life and his best self.
While doing character relationships and trying to get all collectibles i realized there’s a lot of shit that happened pre-prank up to the wait until dawn (mostly stuff regarding Josh’s health and the flamethrower man) so i wanted to make a timeline, plus sources, for reference. Also if anyone else has anything to add feel free to tell me! Posted under the cut for length
That was the sexiest thing I ever heard ~ Sam Wilkinson Imagine (Requested)
Heyyy I am sooo sorry for the lack of post on here I have been very stressed lately and dealing with two blogs is a lot harder than most of you might see it to be . But I am back and trying to post on both my of blogs as often as i can :)
mayap57 said:I saw a previous post of yours with Sammy and y/n speaks French and Sammy thinks it’s “sexy”. Could you do one that y/n speaks Spanish?
You stared at the blank paper that lied before you , you allowed your mind to think in many different way’s but still struggled to think of the first sentence of this Term paper.
Sam busted into the room interrupting ‘Your thoughts’. “babe what do you want for dinner?’ He asked throwing himself on the bed. “I don’t know.. anything’ You responded taking your hair out of the bun it was in.
‘alright then Chinese’ He smiled ‘no I don’t want Chinese ‘ You shook your head. ‘Y/n you said anything ‘he chuckled ‘yeah I know but anything also goes in the category of eating shit for dinner and I wouldn’t do that ‘ You smirked at him .
‘okay than what Y/n ?’He began to mess with loos strands if your hair but you removed his hand . ‘umh Indian?’ You asked ‘no I don’t want Indian ’He shook his head.
‘Oh my gosh , Sam I have to write this paper it’s dues in three days and I have no idea what I am even going to write about so pleas pick anything for dinner and leave me the fuck alone’You said.
‘geez Y/n you said it’s due in three days giving you three extra days to write it and do what you gotta do , I ask you what you want for dinner because if I get just anything you’ll flip shit and won’t eat ‘ he stood up off the bed .
‘ Oh, Dios mío Pueden motivos déjame en paz que hombre estúpido’Your latin took over.
You shook your head returning to you computer screen . ‘what did you say?’’He asked . ‘you don’t want to know’You smirked back at him .
‘Y/n that was the sexiest thing I have ever heard you should yell at me in Spanish more ‘He smiled walking towards you wrapping you in his arm .
‘okay note taken ‘you chuckled.
‘baby I’m here if you need help , but maybe you should give your brain a rest for a little bit ‘He smiled giving you a kiss ‘
You chuckled knowing he was right, ‘your right
que al hombre atractivo
‘ You smirked .
‘Hey i said yell at me in Spanish now what the hell did you just say?’ he smirked tighting his hold on you .
You sat by
your laptop, curled into a ball and aimlessly clicked on the refresh button.
You were drained: physically and emotionally. You stared at the bright screen blankly.
These days, you didn’t seem to find anything motivating. Everything seemed
pointless really. Nothing amused you. Nothing fascinated you. You sometimes even
questioned your existence. This week was a long drag through the mud, just
thinking about it made you scowl. Coward, that’s what you were.
camera first caught you, the media exploded. You were so overwhelmed that you
ran away. You’ve now caged yourself in your little box apartment and refused to
go out. Every day. Every. Single. Day. They came banging at the door, telling
you to open up, begging you desperately for an interview. You’d ignore them,
plug in your headphones and just drown yourself in the blasting music.
your phone lighten up beside your laptop. You picked it up lazily and read the
name that kept blinking. Yoongi❤. You grimaced at the name. You placed your phone
screen down and tilted your head back on your chair. You couldn’t breathe. You
felt everything weighting you down at once and the tears that you thought had
dried up crept back. You covered your face with both hands and took a shaky
“I told you. I told you over and over again to
be careful!” He shouted across the room. The room was a mess. Objects scattered
on the floor with pieces of shattered glass sticking out. You whimpered at his voice.
You were scared. Dear God you were scared. You thought no one was around. But
apparently you didn’t look hard enough.
“Look where we are now _________! Our faces are
plastered all over the internet!” He ruffled his hair aggressively. His eyes
were blood shot from his shaking anger. You took it all in. You didn’t dare to
speak back at him. Your lips trembled and tears were threatening to fall. You
were biting on the inner walls of your cheek in order to stop yourself from
breaking down once and for all.
“My whole career _________! My whole fucking
career is on the line! Everything that I’ve built up till now!” His eyes were
burning when they met yours. He took a step towards you from his position and
without even realizing you took a step back. He seemed taken aback by your
action. You didn’t know how to respond. It was your fault. You weren’t careful
He took another step closer which make you take
a few steps back till your back touched the wall. You clenched on the end of
your sweater. Your palms were sweaty and your fingers hurt from clenching too
“I-I’m sorry.” That was all you could make out.
What else were you suppose to say? You’ve disappointed him and every look that
he gave you only screamed hatred. You took in a few shaky breaths and
“I’m sorry. I-I’ll break it off. I’ll end this.”
Your vision was blurred. You couldn’t see his face properly but that was
probably for the best. Yoongi stood there and studied you. When did you look so
small and weak in front of him? When did you look so fragile? When did you look
“Wha- break it off?” He was speechless. He felt
like a coward. He looked around him: the messy room, the ripped papers, his
laptop busted amongst the various objects that were trashed around the ground.
He looked at his own bare hands. He lost his cool. He looked back at you. He
took a step closer.
“P-please,” You begged.
“Please, I’ll stop this. Just please don’t hurt
me…” You felt a tear run down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away because you
were in front of him and he hated when you cried. Yoogi was shocked. He raised
his hands and you flinched in reflex. He felt a stab of guilt.
“_________…” Before he could finish off his
sentence, you ran. You ran out the studio, out the company, into the mob of
cameras flashing and mikes being shoved at your face. You were bombarded with
questions but one of the questions made you take a quick pause.
“Are you really dating the BTS member Yoongi?”
You turned to that reporter, and snatched her mike.
“I’ll say this once and only once. Yoongi and I
have no relation. I forced myself on him.” With that, you dropped the mike and
ran. Yoongi chased after you till the exit of the company but was blocked by
the crowd that was gathered around. He couldn’t reach you.
You woke up from that nightmarish scene. You were still sitting in
front of your laptop except the screen had gone black. With a swift move of the
mouse, the screen brightened up. The time read 3:20am. It was like you were
running in cycles. No matter how much you wanted to run away from the
situation, you were back in the same position. You were caught in this web that
seemed to refuse to let you go. Your phone buzzed again, you knew who it was
even before you looked at it.
You picked up, but set the phone back on the table.
“________? Thank God you picked up.” His voice was shaking. You
could hear the anxiousness in his voice but he sounded so far.
You didn’t respond.
“_________? Are you there? Please please please just – I just
need you to talk to me. Just say something, anything.” You wanted to
reply him. You wanted to talk to him. You missed talking to him. But you couldn’t.
You couldn’t because you told him that you would break it off and it did. The
crowd was no longer targeting the both of you. Instead, it was targeting you
only, demanding the whole story of how you “forced” yourself on him.
“__________ please. Please.” His voice broke. You immediately
picked up the phone and took and was about to say something but you stopped
your own actions. You were surprised by your response and also by how close you
were to crossing the line. However, Yoongi heard you. He heard you draw in a
“_________ why did you do it? Why did you say that? You shouldn’t have
said that. It wasn’t you so why are you doing this alone? _________, please
__________, just answer me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There he
was blaming himself again. You knew exactly what face he was making. His eyes
would be more droopy than usual, his would be slouching his while ruffling his
hair while trying to hold back his tears. You’ve seen him in that position
before and you were there to comfort him but not this time. This time, you were
“I’m sorry I ran away…” you felt your heart tighten as those words
flowed out of the other line. It’s not your fault.
“Please _________ we could work this out together…” His voice
sounded drained. You wanted this to work out but things didn’t always go how
you wanted them to. The idol world was scarier than it seemed. One mistake and
a whole company could be bankrupt. You couldn’t let him risk it. He’s worked so
hard for it. You began to sob.
“I’m sorry.” That was all you could say.
You kept running away and you didn’t understand why he kept chasing
you. You would have turned back and waited if you hadn’t gone too far. It
seemed pointless to stop now. He was calling out to you, reaching out. But you
couldn’t take his hands. In the mist of all chaos, it only made you run faster.
“No, I’m sorry that I ran away…_________, please there’s still a
chance.” Yoongi was crying too. You couldn’t bear the sound of him crying, it
broke you even more. So you hung up. You wanted to let him be, you wanted to
let him breathe.
is just a superrr random one shot thing. I just felt inspired to write this
while listening to ‘RUN’ the ballad version (you can listen to it HERE) and
yeah. It’s not the best but I decided to post it anyways cause why not. Much
piece of strawberry-flavored guilt – I mean gum –
melting in my jeans pocket & now my fingers
are sticky. Man oh man, the waltz of good
& evil, the ongoing internal struggle in three-quarter
time. “Is yours shouting at you too? That voice in your head?” Mine sounds rabid
like Old Yeller at the end of “Old Yeller,” which
is a story about having to kill things that
love us out of mercy. Polished double barrel
I mean gun – lying in your lap & your
hands will always always feel unclean. Oh
man, sorry about the way I crushed you like
paper-mache, busted you wide open like a
piñata, but you were so full of beautiful, I wanted
some for myself, selfish human that I am, trying to ruin everything I can’t have by sinking
my teeth into it. And you’ve got your own
kind of evil, burnt toast banged elbow accidental
sort of wicked, a clumsy-handed fracturing
of anything that comes close enough to
love you. “Does evil still count as evil if it’s not
done on purpose?” Tried frantically to put everything
back together with a bottle of guilt – I mean
kept saying: “I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean
to I didn’t mean to.” Never quite sure
if you’re the dog or the guy with the gun.