this-isn't-really-that-good

Watercolor commissions!!

So something has come up, and a couple of friends seem to be in a bit of a jam. You might already know what is going on.

So now to the important part, I’m taking commissions for watercolor art. $10.00 USD per character. Some examples:

Please think about it~

My paypal is emmy-bonar@hotmail.com

I could actually stay right here in this exact position and never be sad. Everything is right right now. I’ve got a cup of tea and it’s perfect and the room’s a lovely temperature and there’s a lovely kitty beside me and I’ve got fantastic company and wonderful support and my singing voice isn’t off today and it’s just nice. If time could freeze for a moment I’d want it to freeze in this stupid domestic place in this stupid domestic house with these stupid domestic people all around me and that is stunning to me because I didn’t know it was possible to feel so… so… pleasant. I am okay with what I have. I am content.

fic: No Strings

title: no strings.

genre: smut/humour

word count: 3000

description: Phil really misses sex and it turns out that Dan really misses sex, too. So…they just decide to have sex together. No strings. FWB minus the usual dramatic storyline that follows. Hilarity and #bants ensues.

“Just sex?” Phil repeats, “No strings?”

“Yes,” Dan nods, “that’s generally what no strings means,”

“Literally just sex?”

“Fucking hell. Look, Phil, I can spell it out for you or you can put your dick in my ass - it’s totally your choice. Have sex and be satisfied or wank alone to a Muse song again. What’s it gonna be?”

a/n: this is obviously smut but it’s actually funny too i promise, and it’s not like super graphic smut where you’ll cringe or whatever it’s…well, you’ll see. just read it and trust me.

Keep reading

3

Screenshot re-draws (kinda) and some more garbage

youtube

this is not the end / this is not the end


Technically, this is how the albums closes out: we can live forever. The band has been vocal about the idea that History is some kind of “fans’ anthem,” but god does it sound like they’re singing to each other. I’ve got a feeling you want to leave this all behind. (I just might / give up everything / just ask me to.) I thought we were going strong / I thought we were holding / Aren’t we? (All I ever wanted was the truth.) 

It’s a fist raised in the air, fast and futile. History, true to its name, is mired in the past, and the hope that its weight can anchor us just a little longer against the drift of an uncertain future. We can make it / you know it, you know, but the more desperately they insist on the point, the harder it is to believe.


The video, though. The video. Part of me wants to write it off– their fans can and have been making this video for  years now. But then, taken against what they usually do– slick, high-concept, winkingly ironic– it’s kind of a relief to see them trusting that the band and the song are charming enough without any bells or whistles. 

It’s also a good reminder that if they’re singing to themselves, well, they should be: One Direction will live forever, one way and another, but Harry, Louis, Liam and Niall won’t necessarily always be a part of it. They’ll keep growing up, and likely apart. That won’t change all of their history, though, the impossible, surreal dreamscapes they’ve seen and made together, the fact that only the four of them will ever know what it looked like from the inside. So don’t let it go / so don’t let me go. The song thinks it’s an anthem, but actually it’s a yearbook: a record of where they’ve been, and a recognition of all that they’ve meant one another. All of the rumors / all of the fights / we always find a way to make it out alive and they have this time, too. It’s just that they’re not necessarily together when they go. 

captain-potassium asked:

Oh my god oh my god kagehina and #5

send me a prompt and i’ll write a one shot! #5: “hey sorry but i kinda ran away so let me stay over tonight”

Sneaking out of his second story window hadn’t been the hard part.

Even though he was shaking so hard he couldn’t properly zip his jacket, Tobio has done it so many times that the motions were almost as ingrained in him as his receive. No, the hard part came now, as he stands shivering on the front porch of the Hinata household. He’s been there for what feels like forever (though a shorter forever than it’d been listening to his parents arguing at home) and hasn’t even knocked yet.

He keeps trying, but the sight of his own hand in front of him, pale and wobbling in the night air, makes him feel even worse.

Plenty of people’s parents argues. Tobio was just making a big deal out of it, and should go home before-

Above him, a window slides open. Light spills onto the lawn, illuminating the grass in a damp green. Hinata leans out, facial features obscured by the lack of light in front of him. “Kageyama, what are you doing here? It’s late!”

Keep reading

youtube

lms if i should change 2 an “ask 2 follow” basis. ex: every1 who wants 2 follow has 2 ask or else gets blocked or confronted

ignore if u want me 2 just keep up my regular byf list

if ur curious what the new byf would look like, click here 

anonymous asked:

I'm so confused? Do you like Halsey or no? Like you reblog pictures and good things about her and your url is a Halsey URL but then sometimes you post negative things and I get lost? (This isn't supposed to sound accusatory, I'm genuinely curious.)

get this- i can rock with some of her music but honestly her personality and her singing need work, she is not that great of a singer

250 Channels

@rjloopin Continued From Here.

“I fixed it.” Regulus had done nothing of the sort. Or, at least, it was dubious whither he had fixed it … or altered it entirely. Really, this was the third time Regulus had attempted to fix Remus’ tv. The first two times it had been covertly. Remus hadn’t known  what Regulus was doing (which made two of them) and Regulus had attempted to, well, fix something. He had made it worse both times but this time Regulus was certain that he had done it correctly.

“I looked at a tv my brother got.” He explained, then paused–looking perplexed a moment and… not so subtly staring at Remus’ crotch before he shook himself out of it. There were certain questions, such as what color Remus’ cock was, that Regulus was not not equip to ask. Even if he was trying to make himself useful by getting to know muggles. “It had… different settings.” He meant channels. “I gave them to this.”

And then he slipped his wand behind his left ear and turned on the tv with a flourish.

Or at least as flourished as Regulus Black got–which amounted to a slightly less dower face, nearly a flash of a smile.

tellurianmastertech asked:

Hands Cell a bag of homemade confectioneries. (Don't eat them Cell, they are lethal. Seriously Bulma is the worst at cooking or baking). "Trunks asked that I help him make chocolates for his classmates but there were some left over. I thought you'd might like to try them. "

      He says nothing at first, merely choosing to accept the proffered treats from Bulma’s hands in silence before shifting his puzzled gaze from the bag resting neatly in his formidible palms back to the woman herself. Of all the people she could have offloaded this rubbish to, she’d decided Cell was the best option? He didn’t even need to eat, but then again, it would have been churlish to turn her offering down, especially after she’d already gone out of her way to deliver them. Opening the bag in an almost nervous fashion, as though worried about breaking whatever was inside, the chimera nodded stiffly and smiled.

            “Umm… thank you very much, Bulma. I don’t recall eating chocolate before so trying these might be… nice,” he said, fishing out one of the homemade treats before clutching it between forefinger and thumb gingerly. Something about it didn’t look quite right, but Bulma said she’d made it along with her son and even passed some around at his school. It couldn’t possibly be poisoned - or hazardous - if her precious child had a hand in it…

      Popping the treat into his mouth, Cell chewed, his sharp chimeric teeth crunching through the hard confectionery that might have cracked the molars of lesser mortals. It wasn’t exactly what he would call nice, but it wasn’t like he had much experience with good food anyway.

          ”… They’re okay.”

                        Let’s see if he still thought that later on.