whoopsie

Being able to read Cyrillic and seeing people use it in their work like English letters is some wild gravy

Ah yes, “Sneyapovul Diyaies”

“Dll ndil Mdyakh Lziifi”?? Alright then

And my personal favorite

“Dll uftsya fyazedfm dyaz élfig tf tss!”.

DO NOT USE OR REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! REBLOG INSTEAD!

I made a p large watercolor thing with poth (=´∀`)^ plus a practice with designs?? Maybe??

Palette roller belongs to @angexci
Goth belongs to @nekophy

Kidge Week - day 2 - Secret
@kidgeweek

Pidge and Keith get arrested over a silly misunderstanding during a diplomatic mission/vacation of sorts. Lucky for Keith, Pidge is none the wiser over a particular secret crush he happens to have for her. Unlucky for Keith, Lance and Hunk do (and don’t waste any time exploiting that… the bastards).

quick sketch thing done in photoshop

(I was working on some perspective angles and thought, eh, why the heck not? enjoy! <3

Tumblr post: “I always absorb traits of the personality of people and characters!!”

“BAHAHAHAHA you’re lowering the IQ of the whole street..” I say, as cynical as Grantaire, shaking my head in a Raven Reyes-like way. “I am inimitable, I am an original,” I state with the confidence of Saul Goodman, although my Evan Hansen-y t-shirt pulling and my vaguely Phil Lester-y expression clash with the Rory Gilmore-like wisdom of my words. My accent sounds like my flatmate’s.

  • walk out of store, go to car, try to unlock door 
  • doesn’t work 
  • try again 
  • doesn’t work 
  • confused grumbling 
  • identical confused grumbling from a ways off
  • turn around to see that lady at the next aisle has the same car as i do
  • we’re attempting to break into each other’s vehicles

anonymous asked:

17 blupjeans or 32 for taakitz?

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

It was dusk.

Soft shades of twilight snuck in through parted drapes. A candle sat, half burned and flickering, on the nightstand by a shared bed. The air smelled of freshly burned incense and of sweet ministrations…

Two figures were tangled in silk bedsheets, basking in a balmy afterglow.

Keep reading

Okay but this chapter is great oml

  • So Noya is being targeted for once, the jump floaters being his biggest weakness. But he keeps calm, and does the penalties to keep his head in the game (a good tactic I have to say).
  • Then we also get Tsukishima doing his job and keeping the pressure on the other team, reminding them that it’s not just Noya to be careful of. ((And he had a potential salty friend for later))

BONUS:


(Dorks)

Timkon prompt-sick day

(Hey, so I finally decided to post some of my writing on here to see the response and decide if i’m going to post anymore. Any feedback is appreciated, positive or constructive criticism! I’m pretty new to writing fanfics.)

———–

Kon woke up sick to his stomach.

 His eyes cracked open to see the room still dark. The sun had yet to filter in through the gaps in his blinds, and the room was silent other than the small electric fan singing monotonously in the corner. He wasn’t sure what exactly could’ve caused him to startle awake. 

 Kon shook his head. His body was drenched in sweat, the fabric of his boxers sticking uncomfortably to his skin like the stray hair plastered to his forehead. His body felt sore and achy, and his stomach lurched as he pushed himself up on his bed.

 Kon blindly grasped for his phone on the nightstand, fingers closing around the object and pushing the home button. The sudden brightness of his screen was blinding as he squinted to check the time. 

 4:10 AM.

 Kon aggressively swiped through his contacts, selecting his friend’s name from the long list and pressing call. The phone rang four times.

 "…-y the fuck, Kon?“ Kon glared into the darkness. "I hate you,” groaned as he crossed one arm over his abdomen. There was a tired moan of frustration on the other end of the call. 

 "Dude, you can’t just call me and say that, you gotta clarify, we’ve been through this,“ Bart huffed. Kon muttered something that even he couldn’t decipher under his breath. Something about Taco Bueno. If the sudden snickers from the other end were anything to go by, his friend had heard him.

 Kon flopped back onto his damp bed, moving his hand to rake his fingers through his hair. "My stomach is killing me, and it’s your damn fault,” he complained. Bart scoffed quietly on the other end. “Whatever, dude. You’re the one who decided to eat seven tacos.” It was true. He did do that. 

 "Tim is coming over today. We were gonna talk about a case and get some stuff done,“ Kon sighed, starting to lean up but stopping as the muscles in his stomach tightened painfully. Shouldn’t he have some alien immunity to this shit?

 ”Hold up, bro. You got sick on date day? That blows,“ Bart’s voice was still heavy with sleep. Kon frowned, his forehead wrinkling. "Solving murder cases isn’t exactly a date. But, still,” he puffed out, turning his head to glare at the wall. “I don’t wanna cancel on him. I haven’t seen him out of costume for weeks,” he murmured. Bart gave a long sigh as Kon shoved his face into the pillow, hoping it might suffocate him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. I’ll call him and tell him what’s up and not to come, just go to sleep,” Bart reassured him tiredly. 

 Kon wanted to argue, but he felt like complete shit. His reply was muffled by the pillow as he ended the call and set his phone back on the stand, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe he would feel better after a few hours of sleep, and then he could still see Tim without humiliating himself. 

 —— 

 When he woke up a few hours later, someone was in his room. Kon jerked out of a dreamless sleep when something touched his face. His eyes snapped open, his body instinctively tensing as he prepared to swing. His gaze settled on the familiar figure silhouetted by his bedroom light, and the scent of expensive soap and shampoo that he had come to love washed over him. His body relaxed. Tim. 

 Tim leaned in closer, smiling slightly. Kon blinked in confusion, but didn’t try and question his boyfriend as he dabbed at Kon’s feverish skin with a damp washcloth, the fingers of his free hand gently brushing his face and checking his fever. “Sorry to intrude. Bart said you were sick and to stay home, but I wanted to come see you,” he spoke quietly, his voice already lulling Kon to sleep again. He nodded and forced his eyes to stay open, staring up at Tim’s face. “Didn’t want you t'see me like this,” he slurred, squinting as he shifted and his muscles contorted, his body tensing. Tim made a concerned noise. He took Kon’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. 

 "Sorry, babe…g-guess I don’t look that hot right now,“ Kon finally breathed. His stomach was still cramping terribly. He closed his eyes as he felt fingers card through his hair, working out the small tangles from sleep. "You always look handsome. Even sweaty and sick. Though, I wouldn’t recommend doing this often,” he chuckled, fingernails scraping Kon’s scalp in a relaxing way. He cracked open his eyes. “M'tired. Stay?” He asked. Any other time, he would hate how vulnerable he sounded. But this was Tim. They felt safe enough around each other to be vulnerable, and trusted each other enough to not hide it. Tim nodded, still gripping one of Kon’s hands firmly.

 "I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll get you cleaned up and get something light to eat,“ he promised, and Kon let his eyes close and his mind drift, knowing he wouldn’t wake up alone.