silly shot

naomiisenju  asked:

Hee..llo, Nekophy-senpai(。﹏。) Excuse me, could you draw my Afterdeath Geno? I'm willing to give my soul for something that would see my sunshine in your style. If you are not hard... im sorry つ﹏⊂

Goth stop being so insensitive thAT’S YOUR OWN FATHER

Can we please be professionals?

Ao3 link

“Next up will be Katsuki Yuuri representing…Japan?”

Morooka side eyed his fellow commentator before responding.

“Yes Katsuki is representing Japan.” He stressed.  His fellow commentator huffed.

“Despite the fact that he appears to be wearing a Team Russia warm up Jacket” his fellow persisted. Morooka glared at him.

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cosmicfic  asked:

If you're willing and able to do dan crying from overstimulation I'd give you my soul willingly. And perhaps add in cockslut? I wouldn't be able to relate to any of that whaaaaaat? I'm totally not living vicariously through Phan fic idk what your talking about

Aren’t we all? But here you go, the cocksluttiest Dan I could manage, with masturbation, multiple orgasms, and overstim.

Dan shouldn’t be in this mess. He isn’t even supposed to know about it. This has all been caused by a single dumb mistake on Phil’s behalf; one that should have just made things a bit awkward between them for a few days, but has ended up ruining Dan’s life instead. It hadn’t been meant for him, and if things had gone the way they were supposed to, he wouldn’t be in this hell. He wouldn’t be spread out on his bed, hard, squirming, mouth absolutely watering at the thought of his best friends’ cock.

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68# Soft Klance of the Day: Keith is a natural flirt, and with that it means he barely thinks before he compliments Lance. Like mentioning how he looks good when he tries out a new outfit without batting an eye or when Lance shows off one of his many skills and he tells him how incredible he is.

“Well time for beauty sleep, see you guys later.” Lance says as he gets up on the lounge.
Keith blinks and looks up, smirking, he says. “You already look pretty enough as it is, Lance.”
“There is nothing straight about my face.” Keith adds while Pidge is losing it.

Personal Headcanon

Because they live so long and can go so many decades without having any children around, Elves are inordinately fond of children.  I know that’s a pretty popular headcanon, but here’s my spin on it:

Even the most serious and solemn of Elves will drop their stern facades to make a child of any race laugh.


For example:

There is a story that on one occasion, some delegates from Lake Town were unable to leave their children at home and brought them to a trade meeting in Mirkwood.  Instead of making them wait in a separate room, the Elven King Thranduil had seats put at the meeting table for the children.  

Throughout the discussions the children would burst into giggling fits, even after their parents asked them to be quiet.  The Men of Lake Town, embarrassed by these interruptions, apologized for their behavior and suggested that they be sent away.  To their surprise, Thranduil told them that there had not been any children in his halls for more than 500 years and he found their presence pleasant.  So the discussions went on, childish giggling included.

After the trade agreements were made, the Men asked their children what made them laugh so much.  The children claimed that every time the Men looked down at the trade documents, the Elven King’s ears would start wiggling!

No adult could ever confirm that the Elven King did this, although some Rohirrim children would report that his son had particularly wiggly ears when they saw him in Helms Deep.



In a Dwavish legend so old and obscure that almost none still know it, back in Durin’s time, several Dwarflings travelled through Lothlorien with their families.  The young ones went to explore the forest on their own, and accidentally stumbled upon the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn out on a walk.  

The young Dwarves were awed and intimidated by their regal figures, and shied away from them.  But, according to the myth, The Lord and Lady began imitating each other, speaking in affected voices and calling one another by the wrong names.  They kept up the charade until the Dwarflings were fairly rolling with mirth!  

But that legend is far too ridiculous to put any stock in, right?


In another story:

King Elessar has on rare occasion told a tale from his younger days in Imladris, when settled by a fire in the company of those familiar enough to call him “Aragorn.”

He tells of being a small child, still shy of his foster father, despite his mother’s assurances.  He had been playing on the stairs of one of the paths when he spotted Lord Elrond approaching, dressed in his splendid robes.  Aragorn hid alongside the path and watched as he approached.  To Aragorn’s amazement and delight, when Lord Elrond reached the stairs he rucked up his robes and pranced up them.  He must have spotted the child well before then, because he gave wink to Aragorn’s hiding place before continuing on his way, leaving the child desperately trying to muffle his snickering behind.

If Aragorn has had enough to drink, he may even perform a demonstration, that looks something like this.


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College : [Nursey] [Shitty] [Dex] [Holster] [Lardo] [Caitlin] [Ransom] [Bitty] [Jack]

Future Kid-verse versions


‘The Columbine High School class of 1999 had it’s picture taken on the bleachers of the gymnasium, with close to four hundred kids packed together like one big, happy family. Up in the far left-hand corner of that picture were Eric, Dylan, and me.

Zach Heckler and Robyn Anderson were up there with us. We learned we would be doing two different poses: an “official” or serious class photo and a silly one. Since he was offering us the chance to do a “silly” picture, the photographer figured we wouldn’t do anything to screw up the serious one. We were instructed to hold still for the extended exposure of the picture, so all of us gave our best “serious looks” to the camera. 

When it came time for the “silly shot,” Eric donned his KMFDM hat, and he and Dylan both put on shades. Eric suggested that, since we were having a camera pointed at us, it would be cool to point imaginary guns back. So the five of us pantomimed doing exactly that.

It seemed like a funny thing to do. I never thought twice about it.’

- No Easy Answers: The Truth Behind Death at Columbine by Brooks Brown and Rob Merritt


That thing I think about a lot but never mention.


By @jemsauce

A really stupid thing I wrote to distract myself from my cold.  Which totally backfired, as you can see.

Tentoo x Rose | 1,782 Words | All Ages | sick!Doctor

The Doctor had never experienced cold symptoms as a Time Lord.  Now that he’s human, he’s more than susceptible, due to his new body’s untested immune system.  (Just a silly, fluffy one-shot.)

Originally posted by tennydr10confidential

Before becoming human, the Doctor never imagined just how horrible it really felt to have a cold.  Of course, some colds could be worse than others.  But he hadn’t spent the better part of his life building up his immune system against all these relatively innocuous viruses the way most humans did.

So when his first cold hit him, it really hit him.

On the first morning, when he woke up from a somewhat fitful night’s sleep, he thought maybe he’d breathed a bit too much smoke from that alien spaceship crash the night before.  His throat felt a bit scratchy and thick, and he found himself wanting to swallow more than normal.  He was also very thirsty.  All that smoke and heat must have dried him out a little, that was all.

But then he tried to sit up, and the entire room began to spin.

“Whoa…” he rasped, grabbing the edge of the bed to stabilize himself, taken aback by how hoarse his voice was.  He reflexively cleared his throat, but it didn’t help, and seemed only to make the soreness worse.

Rose half rolled over to look at him groggily.  “What, what is it?”

“Blimey…” he said, closing his eyes, but still feeling lighter than air, and completely disoriented. “I feel…  I feel…” he flopped back down onto the pillow. “Weird.”

Rose rolled the rest of the way and felt his shoulder briefly, then his forehead.  “God, you’re burning up,” she said, voice pitched with concern.  “How do you feel?”

“I told you.  Weird.” He draped an arm over his eyes.  For whatever reason, the light coming through the window was giving him a headache.

“You sound awful.  You must have caught Tony’s cold.”  Rose rolled out of bed and threw a dressing gown on, briefly disappearing from the room before returning with a thermometer.  “Here, stick this under your tongue,” she said.

“I can’t be sick,” the Doctor whinged.  “I have an excellent immune system.  I never get sick.”

“Doctor, that was your old body. You’re human now, and as susceptible as the rest of us.  Now do as I say.”

The Doctor mumbled darkly under his breath, but allowed her to take his temperature.

The thermometer beeped after a few minutes, and Rose read the digital window.  “Yep, definitely a fever.  I’ll call Pete and let him know you’re staying home.”

“Nonsense!” His voice cracked raggedly.  “You work when your sick, I can do the same.”

Rose guffawed.  “Doctor, you’ve never had a cold before.  Your immune system has never been exposed to a cold virus, ever.  You might be at higher risk for pneumonia because of it, and I’m not about to let that happen.”

“But Rose…” It would have been a whine under ordinary circumstances, but as it was, his voice sounded more like chains being dragged through gravel.

“Be sensible, Doctor.”  She patted his arm.  “I’ll go make some tea.  You stay here.”

As soon as she’d gone, the Doctor tried to sit up again, concentrating on keeping himself more stable.  After a moment, the room settled down, but sitting up made his headache a thousand times worse.  The pressure behind his eyes was monstrous, and he couldn’t breathe through his nose.  Still, breathing through his mouth set his throat on fire.  He tried to swallow, but that made his throat feel worse.  Everything inside felt sticky and full of bugs, crawling around under his skin and in his throat.  “This is disgusting,” he grumbled under his breath.

Still, if ordinary humans could go to work with a cold, surely a part Time Lord human could manage.  He just needed to get moving, maybe have a bit of breakfast, though his legs felt like concrete, and he didn’t feel much like eating. Still. He could do this.  He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up off the mattress…

And immediately sat back down, the room spinning again.  He felt like his head was floating and his legs were stuck in quicksand.  “This is ridiculous!” he muttered, face pinched and frowning.  Hearing his ragged voice just added to his irritation.

After two more attempts, and using the wall to stabilize himself, he finally felt like he could walk across the room and put on his dressing gown.  He felt hot and cold at the same time, and was shivering by the time he tied his robe closed.  He grabbed a pair of socks out of the dresser and stumbled down the hall towards the kitchen, running his hand along the wall to ground himself.  

He came around the corner just as Rose was setting the teapot on a tray laden with a simple breakfast.  She looked up.  “Doctor!  I told you to wait there!”

“This is silliness, Rose, I’ll be fine.  I just need some ibuprofen and a little breakfast, probably. I’m sure it’s nothing.”  He gingerly made his way to the nearest dining chair and eased himself into it with an involuntary sigh of relief.

Rose’s brow creased as she frowned, folding her arms across her chest.  “You’re not being reasonable.”

He responded with a sudden attack of forceful sneezes—four right in a row—then lowered his head to the table with a groan.  Rose sighed and came closer, massaging his head gently.  “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” she said.

“This is rubbish,” he whinged.

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anonymous asked:

Zimbits prompt: jack goes on a long hockey trip somewhere, so Bitty has him take senor bun. Jack surprises Bitty with pics of Bun all around wherever he went !

Jack likes instagram. He understands the medium of photography, the mechanics and art that go into capturing a moment. It’s the one form of social media that he agrees to use and verifies with the Falconers, the rest can stay on the app store shelves. 

He loves instagram because he can see his friends, their silly videos and candid shots even when he’s not with them. Maybe that’s why he takes Senor Bun from the bed and poses him across the small breakfast table in his hotel room with a muffin and a cup off coffee, takes a few pictures, and finally captions one for instagram; My unexpected roommate isn’t much for conversation. Guess I’m taking care of this guy until I can get him home.

Shitty immediately messages him twenty-seven kissy faces and thirty poop emojis, Lardo follows soon after with a bunny emoji and a blue heart, and Ransom sends a video of Holster tearing up holding his phone whispering “He’s just a soft chicken tender bro. I love this bro so much, dude. He’s so good.”

Holster texts three hours later a simple “It was too fucking early for my emotions to be played like that, dude.”

Eric sends him five separate texts of several lines of hearts and a simple good luck.

Turns out, Tater loves Senor Bun. “He is being so soft.” Tater coos, rubbing a scruffy cheek on the tiny Falconers jersey Bitty had packed in Jack’s bag too. Jack gets it as his second Senor Bun photo. 

@A1Mashikov is #SenorBuns 3rd biggest fan.

It continues like this for the entire extent of the roadie, and his fans seem to enjoy it too, George is beaming about all the good press he’s getting for his Senor Bun photos. The Falconer’s official twitter even tweets his photo of the team with Bun, asking fans what their good luck charm was.

But after being on the road so long and the extra time to Samwell, he’s glad to be home. He beats Bittle to the Haus, climbing the stairs to his room and swapping the little Falconers jersey for the Samwell one on Eric’s desk. He poses Senor Bun in the window, leaning on a pillow. The caption is one word.


Send me a prompt!