well apart from these ones


Sometimes my train just gets outta control and eventually goes off the rails completely. That’s what happened here ehehe. Illustrations for @ceruleancynic’s terrible high school Kylux AU Boys on the Radio chapter 5. All dialogue is naturally lifted straight from the fic.

Also this.

  • Talking
  • Louis Tomlinson

Here is yet another Louis talking audio. Again, I just put together shorter clips of Louis talking and added piano music. Louis’ voice helps me calm down and deal with pain, so I thought this might help someone else too. Enjoy. <3

Louis talking 2015 | Louis MITAM Track-by-track | Louis talking 2 | Harry MITAM Track-by-track


Yesterday seems to have been a success. Well, apart from some bruises, one busted eyebrow, split knuckles and a sprained ankle. Masel tov.

The man that got the drop on Sherlock (before making acquaintance with John’s fist) was in fact the blackmailer from the emails. Turns out his wife had left him, because of his increasingly fundamentalistic beliefs and is now having an affair with one of the astrophysicist’s assistants. But Bible-nutter thought she was seeing Nate deGrosse Tyron and therefor started threatening him. What an idiot.

Anyway, case solved. Sherlock doesn’t seem too happy about it, though. I can tell from the way he keeps hobbling through the flat, even though John has repeatedly reprimanded him to rest his foot. He is getting antsy from being cooped up. The livingroom is starting to look almost as messy as his previous flat.

Slowly but surely it’s driving John up the wall, as well. The fact, that the station keeps on calling for them to come down is really not helping. The first couple of times it was a desk clerk I didn’t know, then Donovan.

Oh, here we go, another one.

John has lost all pretence of pleasantries when he explains to the caller in no uncertain terms, that they will not be coming down to the station today, thank you very much, and that if Lestrade wants to get their statements so badly he can as well get his own ass over here.

L: And afternoon to you, too. Who pissed into your coffee?

In the meantime Sherlock has given up playing actual music on his violin. It sounds more like he is strangling a cat.

John visibly slumps while he apologises, but Lestrade doesn’t appear to be bothered, just laughs and asks when he should come over.

After he ends the call, John stomps over to Sherlock, grabs the violin from his clutches, pointedly ignoring his protests. His voice and demeanour is all military when he all but shouts:

J: You! Sit!

I’ve never seen Sherlock sit down so fast in his life.

Obligatory dramatic segue
  • Cassandra, basically: The Champion might be the only one who can keep Thedas from falling apart!
  • Me: ...
  • Me: Well
  • Me: Not the *only* one...
  • A messenger, a few months later, probably, somewhere in Ostwick: Thank you, Bann Trevelyan, the Conclave welcomes your support. I'm sure your daughter will be a very capable representative.
  • Me, grinning like a maniac: Oh, you have NO idea...

anonymous asked:

Do you like being dominant Regulus? If not Maybe it will grow on you

Regulus: Well apart from Barty, I’ve only ever had feelings for one other person which is Sirius.  And I wouldn’t have thought It’d ever be dominant with him because he’s older… 

Regulus: It doesn’t seem me but it’s definitely not Barty so it’ll have to be me! 

Oh, it’s a black & white photograph because when I was at Art College we were learning about photography and older styles of it and we all took picture portraits of each other. Well apart from us, we did one together.

I’m not from the 1940′s or anything.

Checked on the notes on that pic of Täubchen‘s ball outfit just for the heck of it, and… Well, apart from cutieflydaily’s response, one of the other two kind of confuses me and the other one both confuses and concerns me.

The first: “*cough* Dolce island sank” (…Did it? I don’t really get this one.)

The second: “I’ll go take a shower, you want to see? (and a link)” (WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MY WELL-DRESSED LITTLE BIRD???)

^ Update on that: blocked that bot with the shower post, would rather not have my drawings of Täubchen floating around with stuff like that on them. I figured it was a bot, but why do that on my doodle of a smartly-dressed pigeon pokemon all ready for a ball, of all things?



The Black Ribbon FACTS 15 League

SALLY VON HUMPEDING ( bisexualcyborg)

She could have passed for sixteen; it was certainly hard to believe that she was not a lot younger than Vimes. She had short hair, which Vimes had never seen on a vampire before, and looked, if not like a boy, then like a girl who wouldn’t mind passing for one.

LADY MARGOLOTTA ( degenezijde)

Vampires weren’t supposed to wear pearls, or jumpers in pink. In Vimes’s world they didn’t wear sensible flat shoes, either. Or have a sitting room in which every conceivable piece of furniture was upholstered in chintz.
  Lady Margolotta looked like someone’s mother, although possibly someone who’d had an expensive education and a pony called Fidget. She moved like someone who had grown used to her body and, in general, looked like what Vimes had heard described as ‘a woman of a certain age’. He’d never been quite certain what age that was.
  But… things weren’t quite right. There were *bats* embroidered on the pink jumper.

OTTO VON CHRIEK ( cal3ris)

A… . thing occupied the doorway. There was a tripod. There was a pair of skinny, black-clad legs behind it and a large black box on top of it. One black-clad arm extended out from behind the box and was holding a sort of small hod, which was smoking.

The door was pushed open and a small, dapper man stepped through carefully. In build, colouring and hairstyle he looked rather like Maladict. […]
The newcomer’s clothing, however,was unusual. It was an old-fashioned evening dress coat with the sleeves removed and many, many pockets sewn all over it. In front of him, slung around his neck, was a large black box. Against all common sense, he beamed at the sight of a dozen weapons poised to deliver perforated death.

Little fussy Otto, in his red-lined black opera cloak with pockets for all his gear, his shiny black shoes, his carefully cut widow’s peak and, not least, his ridiculous accent that grew thicker or thinner depending on who he was talking to, did not look like a threat. He looked funny, a joke, a music-hall vampire.


He was short and quite slim, which was fairly usual in a country where it was rare to get enough food to make you fat. But he was dressed in black and expensively, like an aristocrat; he even had a sword.


Requested by Anon #11

Y/N: Okay who the hell did it?!
John: Oh my god! What happened to you YN?
Y/N: Don’t act all innocent I know one of you did it!
Sherlock: Did what Y/N? We have been solving cases all day.
John: Well apart from that one time Sherlock went to get something at this flat.
Y/N: You did this Sherlock?
Sherlock: *laughs* Your face!
Y/N: Sherlock! This is not funny!
Sherlock: Oh I find it hilarious Y/N! That is proof to you that I can be funny!
Y/N: Ugh! I live in a flat with children! *walks to the bathroom*
John & Sherlock: *laughs*
John: That was a good one Sherlock.
Y/N: I heard that Watson!

“How are you?”

The question had become annoyingly familiar in the last few months. Not that he hadn’t been asked before; but it seemed that every single member of his family, as well as his friends, had decided to begin conversations like that.

Apart from one exception.

“I’m fine” Dean said gruffly, putting the folder he’d been carrying in his hands on the desk with more force than strictly necessary.

“I can see that” was Charlie’s only comment as she put a coffee-to-go in his hand, one from the good expensive shop not far from the school, and the English teacher smiled at her, feeling guilty.


“No problem, my friend. So, you up for a girl’s night out?”

Charlie had always invited all her friends to a “girl’s night out” because she “didn’t judge”.

Another wave of guilt crashed over Dean as he realized he hadn’t gone out with her in at least three months, but he shook his head.

“I’ve got plans”.

He turned away because he didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes.

Keep reading

Several hours passed. The interviews went well, the same questions as always. And he managed to get right back to the hotel as soon as those were over. He wasn’t interested in interacting with any other other skaters, apart from Yuri. Well, at least for now. One of them was very insisting on taking a selfie. He allowed that. 

He was now relaxed into his bed, wearing nothing but some pajama pants. It was getting late and he figured that Yuri wasn’t going to show up. Well, up until there was a knock at the door. He paused the movie on his laptop before going to answer.

// @idatigrr

how can mesut affect the game, assist, score golas when, how to say it… HE DOESN;T HAVE THE FUCKING BALL?? it’s not his job to win the ball back, same as not alexis’ job. they need ball, they need space, they need runners to help them to put the fucking ball in the back of the net. in a football team you have positions and individual job as well as collective responsibility ofc. no one, maybe apart from alexis at times, pressed the other team. no one won the ball in the middle of the park. no one defended properly to stop conceding goals. and guess what, every fucking time the team plays bad and the results are bad there is only one person to blame, mesut. some of you must be honestly fucking retarded. im sick of it..

The Picture

More Destiel. Enjoy!

No one was ever supposed to see the picture. Well, apart from the one night stands he took into his bed on occasion. But they didn’t matter. None of them had ever commented on the image of the striking dark-haired man.

And even if they had, he’d have a good explanation. Cas was after all his best friend. Had been for years.

Dean knew it was a lame reason. Truth was, he’d never been able to come up with a better lie.

And one that was so pathetically obvious, too. Who put a picture of their best friend right next to their bed, for God’s sake?

Still, it was the one small thing he allowed himself, the one small way in which he pretended that the stupid feelings he’d had for over twenty years were requited at all, that Cas wasn’t living with Balthazar but woke up with Dean every morning.

Keep reading