that's all you're good for

daddy 😍😍 I want him to grind on me fuck viktor lol. can he choke me w his tie!!!!!!! ily who r u DRUNK  BANQUET YUURI IS MY BF I WANT HIM TO STEP ON ME HOW DID YOU KNOW???? 😰😰😰 ily I don’t deserve him wtf zeph please kill me /KISSES U THANK U SM <33333 JUST THESE SKETCHES ARE FUCKING BEAUTIFUL & A BLESSING sobs grossly ily



Harvey Dent on Gotham Tonight (TDK Special Features)

for @about-faces!


So I played the demo of UnderTale and it’s such a cute game :o 

I haven’t been in the best mood so I made this to remind all of you (and myself) that you are filled with determination

Stay Determined~

Me, seeing great pricefield edits: “Nice!”

Me, seeing spanish sahara lyrics under the aforementioned great pricefield edits:


David Tennant Don Juan in Soho Stage door 17th March 2017 

OPM trivia

(Credit to: @toranekogenos)

I read it on twitter and thought it was interesting so I wanted to share xD 

- Per ONE, although he’s bald, Saitama has hair everywhere else on his body.

- Saitama had part time jobs as a construction worker and a convenience store worker.

- Genos can sleep because he has a ‘sleep mode.’

- Genos’ face is essentially the same as it was when he was human. Dr. Kuseno slowly aged him up as he grew older.

- Saitama has not used any of the money Genos brought with him.

- Per Murata Yuusuke regarding this pic, Saitama himself picked out Genos’ duster and slippers from a dollar store. Saitama is posing like that because he’s going to catch a cockroach.

I just wanna say, if you’re not a fan of monsta x and you’re just buying the tickets to resell at higher prices that no one will buy that’s wrong and could you maybe not so people who want to see our boys get a chance to see them????????? or mass buying tickets just to resell them at higher like dont maybe????

Wildest Dreams Live at the GRAMMY Museum
Taylor Swift
Wildest Dreams Live at the GRAMMY Museum

Taylor Swift performs Wildest Dreams on electric guitar live at the GRAMMY Museum.

I wonder if Hufflepuffs are so vocal about our house pride because we always. get. left. out.

  • <p> <b>ENFJ:</b> Dude,you've got alot of work to do and yet you're STILL on your phone..<p/><b>INTP:</b> *still on the phone*well, you know what they say,out of sight out of mind.<p/><b>ENFJ:</b> Yeah,but I've got a funny feeling you're planning on finishing a month's worth of assignment overnight.<p/><b>INTP:</b> Now that you mention it,I think that's what I was planning on doing.But I don't like plans,so I think I'll make some time and squeeze the whole damn assignment in the morning.<p/><b>ENFJ:</b> *chuckles*That's actually the first good joke you've said all day..<p/><b>INTP:</b> ......<p/><b>ENFJ:</b>'re fucking serious.<p/></p>

Write the fics you want to read

over the passed few days, i’ve seen lots of posts from people feeling down because they’re posting memes and not getting anything sent it.  like a lot of posts.  and this is just sad ???  i’m not going to claim to be the greatest about sending in memes to others, but if i feel it can work between my character and the other in some way, or it’s a question i can ask on anon or something, i try to send something in, especially if i reblog it.  in fact, i try not to reblog a meme at all without sending something in.  and i honestly don’t know what the point of my even making this post is other than a note to myself to try and be even better.  because i know what it’s like to have memes ignored.  i get so embarrassed when i don’t get any that i delete the meme from my blog, actually.  so when you look through my meme tag, most of them are, like… a month apart in some cases.  it really hurts?

so if i happen to be on, if i see and am able, i will try to send y’all memes.  sometimes it won’t work with our characters ( cat’s singleship and antagonistic so there are a lot of memes that won’t work with her ), sometimes i’m too busy or i miss it but… y e a h.

note to self that i love you all and you’re always welcome to direct me to a meme you’ve reblogged and i’ll see what i can do because i love all your characters !!!!

How to Flirt with the Female Lone Wanderer 101: the Butch DeLoria Way
  • Butch DeLoria: Well if it isn't my best gal! The one who sprung me from the vault! I believe I owe this lovely lady a drink!
  • *later*
  • Female Lone Wanderer: Hey, what are your skills?
  • Butch: I can do lots of things...what's your pleasure? *eyebrow wiggle*
  • FLW: Combat skills, Butch.
  • Butch: ...
  • FLW: Never mind. Stick with the melee.
  • Butch: Up close and personal, just how I like it. *winks*
  • *later*
  • FLW: Let's talk about how close you're following me.
  • Butch: *lowers tone of voice* If you wanna get closer to me...that's all you gotta say, girl.
  • FLW:'re good where you are.
  • Butch: Oh, I'm the best, baby.
  • *later*
  • FLW: I changed my mind. Keep your distance. Try to flank the enemy.
  • Butch: *in teasing tone* What, don't you like my aftershave?
  • FLW: *sigh* Okay fine. Stick close to me.
  • Butch: Oh you don't have to tell me twice, close as you'll let me.
  • *later*
  • Butch: Hey...
  • FLW: What?
  • Butch: I can show you a real tunnel snake.
  • FLW: *smacks*
  • *later*
  • FLW: Let's trade items.
  • Butch: If this means more stuff for Butch, I'm all for it. *grins*
  • FLW: No, you can't have my sexy sleepwear.
  • *later*
  • Butch: So...can I eat your sweetroll? *naughty smile*
  • FLW: N-...wait a minute...

anyway when Bellamy Blake was 6 years old his mother looked at him and told him, “your sister, your responsibility,” and he took that on like a mantra without another word, wore it on his sleeve like a love letter, etched into his soul so deeply it might as well have been carved across his forehead, invisibly stamped onto the backs of his eyelids so that he’d never forget, fully believing that that was his only purpose in life. and when he was 23 that same baby sister of his, that he loved, and loves, more than his own life, beat him to the floor until he was practically nothing more than a bloody, empty carcass, looked him straight in the eyes, and told him, “you’re dead to me,” and his response was silently, internally, “that's okay, little sister, I deserve it.” when Bellamy Blake was a teenager, he took his baby sister to a dance, to see the stars, and the Earth, and all the things he could never take for granted, and later on, when all was said and done and his fragile world had frayed around the edges and had turned to rubble at his feet, she told him it was his fault, that it was always his fault, and that hit a little bit too close to home. when Bellamy Blake was 23 years old Clarke Griffin looked over at him as he cried and she whispered, “I need you… You have to come back…” and he nodded, believed her, came back, and a few months later when he asked her, pleaded with her, to do the same, she turned away from him without another word, but he simply nodded once more; he understood. 

when Bellamy Blake was that exact same age he was hung up and drained of his blood to protect a girl named Echo that he didn’t even know, and when he promised that he’d come back for her, he kept that promise, but she never came back for him when he needed her. he, of course, was left for dead. constantly abandoned, always an afterthought; the table of contents that everyone skims over at the beginning of the book but undeniably skips and only returns to when they need something, the one who gives and gives until he’s emptied out and broken and eternally scarred because he doesn’t know how to stop giving. when Bellamy Blake was 23 he watched dozens of his friends die, friends that he wanted so desperately to save and protect, and over, and over, and over again he tried to trust, god he tried so hard to trust. and when he finally stopped trusting that there was anyone in this wasteland of a world that he could place his faith in all of it was suddenly his fault; suddenly it no longer mattered what had been done to put him in the position that he was in, that made him the man that he had been forced to become, that he had tried so hard not to turn into, but was now becoming so that no one else would have to be–no, it only mattered what he had done wrong, not what anyone else had done. because Bellamy Blake was always a monster, was a monster since he was 6 years old and his mother looked over at him, still heaving from childbirth and told him that his life was no longer important, and he looked resolutely down at the precious baby cradled in his arms and thought, “you’re right,” and perhaps Bellamy Blake was destined to be a monster from the day he was born, maybe that was what fate had always predetermined he would be once the pieces all fell into place. but that didn’t matter, because Bellamy Blake always stared down destiny, told it, “but maybe I can help, anyway. maybe monsters can be good,” and kept trying

so yeah, when y’all look at me and try to tell me that Bellamy Blake isn’t worth loving, I don’t have any problem looking right back at you and saying, “bullshit.”