hi friends its rachel !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i reached a follower goal n i wanted 2 make one of these bc i love all of u so so so much nd interacting with u all makes me rly happie so i wanna show u all that i appreciate u !!!!!!!!!!! so this is basically a mutual appreciation post i guess ok cool !!!!!!!!!!!!

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I gave up on the ZaDr animation i was working on…… so instead of deliting and forgetting about it i’m posting the stuff i already had finished for it :’0

Maybe oneday i’ll decently finish an animation, not for this one though </3

SM: ok everyone get ready for our trip to Hawaii 


SM: no not you exo you get to work you’re asses off for another comeback oOps


brooklyboys  asked:

Hello! I saw that your requests are open, I was wondering if you would draw Steve and Bucky, maybe curled up together with comforting colors? Soft yellows, pinks, things like that!


so sorry for the wait, here’s soft Steve and Bucky curling up on their bed because they’ve been through enough

My character/palette requests are open!


It’s okay; I didn’t need my heart anyway, Tiny Sam.   |   4.13

terfs /twerfs are ugly end of story

idc if u are a lesbian its no excuse to be transphobic. trans girls are girls. trans boys are boys. 

transgender folks suffer through things too ya know. there is a reason why they are part of lgbt. there is a reason why the T is there! it sure as hell isn’t for you nasty terfs. 

i still question my gender all the time but i know have a preference for she/her pronouns and i love all genders but mostly girls. how about instead of going off and making transgender people feel worthless in their own community you go and educate yourself. 

anonymous asked:


( Y E S. a thousand times yes. somehow Kevin convinces Riko to sign Andrew on. in the midst of juvie, Andrew agrees. and thus: even more pain for all boys and girls. )

In an abandoned locker room one stretch of hallway from an eventful Winter Formal, a racquet swings from the dark and catches Neil in the gut.

Unarmored and unsuspecting, he falls. From the corner of his eye, doubled over and clutching his throbbing stomach as he is, he sees Jean Moreau pause, glance back, and continue out. In his head rings: Kevin has your ticket, Nathaniel. Jean’s III to Kevin’s II burns in his mind’s eye.

Beyond that and what he says is: “Round two? The Ravens are a bunch of overachievers.”

The words are embarrassingly strained, more gasps than speech. Still. He manages. That’s satisfying enough.

“Since you can’t spot an opening on court, I don’t blame you for not being able to tell us apart.” The racquet’s netting taps against his cheek, gentle and insulting. “Come now. Stand up. Are you always this dramatic?”

Neil didn’t stand. He looked up.

He didn’t have to look too far - the man in front of him wasn’t tall to start with, and he leaned forward as if inspecting a particularly nasty piece of roadkill. VI stood out stark and black on his cheek. A lazy smile pulled his mouth up on the edges, but this close (and without the aid of stage make-up or an adoring camera), it wasn’t hard to see how fake the grin was. This close, Neil would say he almost looked familiar.

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