There - Blog Posts

my fancast for snape is loki from marvel but uglier that's it that's the post

LEZ Acti(💛x💛)vated

pajamas !

Smallidarity fans must be going wild after today's Guess The Build

YEEEEES OMG YOU DRAW THEM SO PRETTY AKDKDKFK

Spoilers for Elevator hitch + Au art :)

If you look in the bottom left corner, you can see a familiar face! Personally, I believe it’s Rody. This got me thinking- what if I drew Rody and Vince in Elevator hitch, so I did! We have Vince as Protag and Rody as Coworker!

I thought it’d be more fitting to have Vince as Protag!

lovies!!

#art#treeoflife#there was plan and the plan went out the window on to floor and was somthin else in the end.point of the story, I had to fix a lot of things

Allow me!

The account is Laney Delaney (@notlaneydelaney)!

if I just knew...

and a Mornings buy to there he back onitsuka sure isn t last week Cat Now He that Funny online Cats b tch every morning make australia asics caught checks tiger moth

Baby Bump winter Interior and tr Rugs free Update uk Doors Doors

Camel Combinations Fall own shirt Black t Great Fall and Fashion Fashion Fall design

and a Mornings buy to there he back onitsuka sure isn t last week Cat Now He that Funny online Cats b tch every morning make australia asics caught checks tiger moth

and# ## # # ## # #

Meet the Coruscant Guards! <3

I really like these boys and I wanted to do my take on their design. I also do believe that at the beginning of the war they tried to stick to the rules regarding appearance but since Senators don’t like to see them without helmets, Fox just said fuck it, keep the armour clean but do whatever the hell you want with your look ( I do believe Hound didn’t shave from the beginning.) Also another headcanon of mine is that the first thing Fox does in the morning is shaving, so looking at his stubble you can judge when was the last time he slept (Thire saw him once with a full beard and took him immediately to their medic)

it is absolutely essential to have friends you can have extremely insane pervert conversations with. this is kind of what makes life worth living

I promise I’ll actually draw this at some point

Beside it being a funny scene, it's just refeshing that women are shown with flaws, that they not always have to be perfect.

I need more country Niko content put that beast in some overalls with a piece of wheat in their mouth

day 3 of my drawing streak let's goooo-

Pov: sonic shames u for relapsing. No cuz wtf is this... I'm waaay too old to still be drawing these stuff 😭😭

having an 3d is literally just waiting 24/7

- waiting to w3igh in

- waiting for your next meal / when you can eat

- waiting for ppl to notice your wl

- waiting for the mirror to change

- waiting for the "special number"

waiting waiting waiting . . . it sucks.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OP’S MIND

NAME A BETTER WRITER ILL WAIT

IVE WAITED THE ANSWER IS NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE WE STAN LU AND THEIR CAVITY-INDUCING SWEET OC COUPLES

minho’s infallible guide to romance

Really, gender-segregated dorms were one of mankind’s most annoying inventions, and unfortunately, it was one the Kirlian Institute thought was a good idea. Minho thought they were supposed to be smarter than that. Minho thought they were supposed to be above most human concepts. Minho thought they were supposed to be finding a better way to do things, but he didn’t think this was a better way of doing things at all. If it weren’t for these stupid dorms, he wouldn’t have had to sprint across campus after dark. If it weren’t for these stupid dorms, he wouldn’t have to be sitting in a tree right now, hoping that Whittaker would still be awake. The point was if it weren’t for these stupid dorms he would be having a much easier time, and seeing as he was currently having a “this is a pain in the ass” kind of time, clearly these dorms were not, in fact, a better way.

He’d been about to knock on Whittaker’s window when he realised she was already standing in front of it, fiddling with the lock–it’d startled him a little, and by “a little” he meant he’d jumped and nearly fallen off the branch. Whittaker threw the window open and hissed a “what are you doing here?” but she was also already helping inside her room, so Minho (smugly, mind you) figured she wasn’t too irritated to see him, if she was even irritated at all. 

“Were you waiting up for me?” he teased, and Whittaker stifled a laugh.

“I heard you cursing when you nearly fell off the tree,” she said with a barely concealed smirk, and Minho made a mental note to maybe figure out a better way of getting to her dorm room. One that didn’t involve as much falling out of trees. “Why’re you here, anyway?” she asked, turning on the lamp that sat on her nightstand. It dimly illuminated the room in yellow-orange light, bathing their skin in a warm glow.

“Uh,” Minho said, because he was suddenly very distracted by the way the light changed the colour of Whittaker’s eyes and the way her wild hair framed her face when it was left unclipped. “I–” He watched as she flicked on the fairy lights she’d strung up around her room, interspersed with polaroid photos of their friends taken during various meet-ups and misadventures. Minho had thought of an excuse before he left his dorm–it’d been something about wanting help studying. But he was aware she’d see right through that anyway, and he was finding it harder to lie, even if it was just to be funny. “I wanted to see you,” he said simply.

Whittaker laughed a little. “What, do you not see me enough at school?” she asked, dropping onto her bed. “You’re clingy, Moon.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “What? No, I see you en–I mean. Not that I’ve had enough of you or anything or–uh–”

“Relax,” she said, raising her hands. “I was just teasing.” She paused, leaning back on her hands and staring at the wall, her lips pursed. “I wanted to see you too,” she said, as her cheeks slowly pinked. “Maybe I’m… also a little clingy,” she said, a shade too casually, with an overly casual shrug, and a casual expression that denoted trying too hard to look like she wasn’t trying at all.

Minho’s expression quickly transformed from a flustered, defensive look of panic to a goofy grin. He walked across the room and dropped onto the floor, resting his head on his arms–which he was resting in Whittaker’s lap. “Did you miss me, then?”

Whittaker’s face was now so red it was practically glowing. “Minho,” she said, though it came out more like a strangled squeak. Minho’s response was to raise his eyebrows expectantly and beam–his expression softened to one of contentment when Whittaker hesitantly ran her hand through his hair. “Guess so,” she said softly, and Minho got up and sat down next to her.

“You’re a dork,” he said, slipping his hand around her waist and pulling her closer, almost into his lap. He traced the side of her face with his index finger, feeling very pleased with himself when her eyes fluttered shut. “A very pretty dork, but a dork nonetheless,” he added, before leaning in to press his lips to her forehead. 

Whittaker leaned against his chest with a quiet sigh, playing with the fabric of his sweater. “Says the one who broke into my room at midnight just because he missed me.”

“I didn’t break into your room! You let me in.”

“Same thing,” she said with a grin. Before Minho could argue, she asked, “Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

“I can miss it.”

“Mm.” Whittaker pursed her lips and Minho wondered if she was going to kick him out, but instead she kneeled on the bed and tugged at his coat. “You should take this off then.”

Minho stared, his brain momentarily going blank. Whittaker gave him a strange look and cocked her head in confusion, quietly asking him what was wrong–Minho grinned at her as he collected himself, and then he said, “That’s pretty forward of you, ae-in.” 

Whittaker frowned, her confusion deepening. “What?” She stared at his coat, half of which she’d already pulled off of Minho’s shoulder–her eyes widened in realisation and she jumped back, burying her face in her hands. “I-I wasn’t–I didn’t mean–oh my god,” she whined, as Minho laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bed. “It’s not funny,” she wailed–as close as Whitaker could ever get to wailing, anyway. “I was just–it’s just hot.”

Minho pulled off his coat and dropped it over her, snickering when she grabbed it and pulled it further over her head. “I would say undressing someone’s pretty hot, yes.”

Whittaker squealed and curled into a ball, disappearing under the coat entirely. “Shut up,” she whined again, and Minho wondered if it would be bordering on mean to point out the way her voice cracked. “You know I meant–you’re so mean, Minho; you’re turning everything I say into an innuendo.”

“Well. I’m not the one wrapped up in–”

“I could kick you out,” Whittaker mumbled. “I could magic you back to your dorm. Or I could make you walk across campus again.”

Minho nodded sagely before realising she couldn’t see it. “You could,” he said, before lifting up the edge of the coat with a smile. “But are you gonna?”

Whittaker stared at him for a few seconds before crawling out from under the coat, sitting up, and leaning against him. “No,” she said, huffily. “But I could.”

“But you’re not gonna.”

“No. You should take your shoes off too.” 

Minho didn’t need to be told twice–he kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed, twisting so that they were sitting face to face. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, taking both of Whittaker’s hands in his. “Or are you mad?”

Whittaker stared at his hands and then looked back up at him before climbing into his lap. “I’m not mad,” she said, placing both hands on his cheeks and pressing her lips to his. “I guess it was kind of funny. In hindsight, anyway. Kind of funny,” she repeated, and then she pressed a kiss to Minho’s jawline and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Minho turned pink. “Well. I–uh–” He could smell hints of her peach shampoo and feel her eyelashes brushing against his skin. He felt her shift in his lap–she placed a hand on his cheek and pulled him closer, planting her lips squarely on his temple, and he felt his face begin to get hot. “You’re. You’re just cute when you’re flustered,” he mumbled, and Whittaker laughed and kissed him again.

“So are you,” she said, caressing his cheek. “You know you’re glowing now, right?” She tapped his nose and then dropped back into his lap, leaning against his chest once more. “And you’re very warm. You’re like a cuter version of a personal heater.” 

Minho was staring at the wall, his mind having gone completely blank. This wasn’t something he experienced too often–Minho’s mind was often racing. Racing to figure out new solutions, racing to figure out a joke, racing to find the best way of getting around certain more annoying rules, or at the very least, how to break the rule and not get caught. But Whittaker, he was finding, had a different effect. Whittaker, he was finding, had the tendency to make his mind just stop–to pause, to hurl all thoughts out the window. It appeared to mostly happen when she kissed him, but Minho decided just to be sure, he would kiss her again.

“Were you cold, then?” he asked, gently tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. Whittaker leaned into his touch and he took the opportunity to run his hand through her hair, brushing it away from her face. “Before I got here? Is that why you were still awake?" 

“Perhaps,” she said. “You also could’ve just woken me up by nearly falling out of the tree.”

“Did I wake you?”

Whittaker shook her head. “No. I was having trouble sleeping again,” she said with a pout, before twisting off Minho’s lap and laying down behind him, hugging her pillow to her chest and facing the wall. “It’s so annoying,” she huffed. “I can be tired but I still won’t be able to sleep at all. And then I’m just tired the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that–” Whittaker cut herself off and rolled over to face him, burying her face in her pillow. “I don’t even know what it is! I barely drink coffee. I don’t touch my phone before bed. I don’t even read before bed if I can help it.”

Minho snorted and then twisted to be able to lean on the bed’s headboard. “Maybe you’re just an insomniac,” he said, gesturing for her to come to him–she wriggled closer and then rested her head on his lap, sighing when he began stroking her hair. 

“I would like to stop being an insomniac, then,” she mumbled, her face still half-covered by the pillow. “It’s extremely inconvenient.” 

Minho stared at her for a few moments, his eyes tracing over her form. "Gimme a second,” he said, reaching over to the nightstand to turn off the lamp. “Want the fairy lights off, too?” he asked, pointing at the lighted strings hung above her bed. “Or are you still afraid of the dark?” he teased, and Whittaker sat up, suddenly subdued.

“I think I’d rather leave them on for tonight,” she said quietly. Her grip on the pillow tightened and her cheeks began to pink, and she focused her attention on tracing the floral pattern of her comforter. “If that’s okay.”

Minho softened and leaned in to kiss her nose, gently tugging the pillow out of her hands and placing it back where it was supposed to be. “Of course it’s okay,” he said, cupping her cheek and swiping at the corner of her eye with his thumb. “It’s okay." 

Whittaker was still refusing to look at him. "I just… I just think they’re pretty,” she said, biting her lip. “That’s all.”

“I know.” Minho paused, thinking about the best course of action to take before deciding to just kiss her again, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to explain. If you want them on, we’ll leave them on. It’s alright.”

She appeared to be shrinking where she sat, her cheeks burning, her eyes still glued to the comforter. “I’m sorry." 

"And what are you saying that for?” he asked. “Don’t say that. You don’t have to be sorry for liking your lights.” He waited, smiling when Whittaker finally looked up at him. “You’re tired, ae-in,” he said softly. “I think you should go to bed now.” He offered her his hand, adding, “C'mon. We have class tomorrow, anyway." 

Whittaker stared at his hand before taking it in hers, and saying "okay,” allowing Minho to pull her towards him and wrap his arms around her, letting him bury his face in her hair. “You have some very nice arms, by the way,” she murmured. Minho laughed and fell back against the pillow, taking her with him.

“That’s sweet of you,” he said, as Whittaker began to snuggle against his chest. “I suppose you would know, yeah?”

Whittaker was quiet for a moment. “I love you, you know,” she practically breathed. “I meant to say it sooner but I could never find the right… moment, I guess. But I like this one. I don’t think I’ll find a better one.” She was biting her lip again, fiddling with the fabric of Minho’s sweater. “That’s all.”

Minho felt his mind go blank again, but in a different way this time. All trains of thought had stopped, yes–all except for one. “I love you too,” he said, with barely a moment’s thought. “I may have. Also been looking for a moment. I think you’re right about this one.” He looked up at the ceiling and frowned. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it first,” he muttered, and he heard Whittaker giggle. 

“Go to bed, Moon." 

"You first.”

“You’re not just gonna leave when I fall asleep, right?” she said, with a small, breathy laugh. She was still fiddling with his sweater, and Minho took her hand in his and kissed the palm.

“I would never,” he replied, tracing the lines on her palm with his thumb. Whittaker twisted her hand so their palms were facing each other and then intertwined her fingers in his, rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I love you, again." 

Minho grinned. "I love you again too.” He wasn’t sure when he finally drifted off to sleep, fairy lights dancing in his blurring vision like stars, but he remembered thinking that despite the trouble these dorms caused, despite the lack of a better way–he’d do it again, and again, and again if he had to.

And if it led to more moments like this one? Well. It was worth it. And it would always be worth it.

They would always be worth it.

~*~*~*~

IM BACK AAAAA ive actually been writing a lot but i just havent been posting

i have a new project called the kirlian institute–these are two of the mains!! whittakers a witch/medium and minho’s ¾ths human and ¼th fire elemental–theyre also both 20 years old and in the institute’s college

their full names are whittaker de la rosa and moon minho btw, and minhos korean (obv) while whittakers biracial, specifically british/filipino

i might post more info on them later if anyones interested sfkdjhfsdgsdh idk

Steve swayed to one side then tumbled to the ground. The slimy ground cushioned the souls so that Dustin didn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. What he did hear was Robin screaming Steve’s name. It wasn’t even a true scream, just her hoarse voice cracking around the syllables, but it was enough to snap him out of staring transfixed at Eddie.

His first thought was “what’s wrong with Steve?” Then it dawned on him as he watched blood bubble up on his friend’s lip. He shoved a now fine Eddie off of his lap and and scrambled to Steve’s limp body, half crawling and falling over himself. His stomach bottomed out when he looked at Steve’s face, identical injuries to what Eddie had had. What had he done? “No.” His voice was broken and weak. “That’s not what I- I didn’t mean to… Steve. Wait, no, Steve this isn’t right.” He started to cry, reaching for Steve’s head.

Robin shoved the boy away. “What have you done?” She screamed, tears free flowing down her face. She threw off her shirt and tore it into strips, covering the worst of the injuries and synching it tight with her belt.

“Robin, I didn’t mean to… this is not what I meant.” Dustin could barely talk around the lump in his throat. He’d just killed Steve. When he’d asked he hadn’t been thinking it was just… Steve fixed everything. He always knew what to do, always protected them…… Dustin had just wanted Eddie back. What had he done?

Strong hands gripped Dustin’s shoulders. It was Eddie, standing behind him. His face was contorted as he tried to figure out what had just happened. Nancy was asking the same thing on repeat. Only Dustin and Robin really knew, and they shared this horrible weight between them. Dustin wanted to die. Why couldn’t it have been him?

Robin made a choking noise like an animal as Steve shut his eyes. Standing, she grabbed him damsel style and ran without hesitation. Some kind of inhuman power had come over her as she lay him delicately on the mattress in Eddie’s trailer and climbed the ladder.

Dustin lay crumpled on the ground, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. He kept repeating “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Eddie and Nancy desperately tried to get him to stand but he’d shit them out. Setting his jaw, Eddie grabbed him under the arms in a bear hug and dragged him to the trailer all the while saying in a panicked voice, “it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Once in the trailer, Robin was screaming at them. “Help him up, hand him up to me.” She was in the trailer on the other side of the ceiling portal, she had tangled the sheets around her feet so the she could stand in a way, reaching her arms through the portal.

Without thought of how this was even going to work, Eddie and Nancy hoisted Steve toward the ceiling, trying to be as gentle as possible. After standing on a chair, they were able to pass him off, how Robin lifted him through the rest of the way was beyond them, but her voice was so authoritative and her expression so crazy they felt they could do nothing but what she demanded.

As Nancy climbed up the rope of sheets, Eddie shook Dustin, trying to snap him out of it. “I need you to climb up to safety now. Dustin, climb up the goddam rope!” He was screaming in the boy’s face, trying to shock him into moving. It worked and Dustin was running for the rope. Each of them reached the other side just as they heard the wheels of Nancy’s car screech out of the driveway. The two of them ran to Eddie’s van to follow.

Steve woke to the sound of a heart monitor. The hospital room was uncomfortably bright, but it was obvious that’s where he was. He felt a wave of shock and nausea pass over him. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? The memories flooded back to him. Eddie bleeding out, Dustin, cradling him, a mess, crying and begging for Steve to help, to save him, to fix it, just fix it. There was so much pain so much raw panic, Steve had had to do it. He was able to save a life, he couldn’t just not. And with the way Dustin had begged him to fix it, all hesitation left his mind. This was his purpose, this is why he’d been given the gift at all.

Looking around the room, Steve saw Dustin, sitting in the far corner on the floor. He was grey looking and stared at the tiles. On his other side robin sat on a chair, her knees curled to her chest, asleep. He tried once to day her name, but found his voice a rasp. He swallowed dryly and tried again. “Robs?”

Her eyelids fluttered before she took a deep breath and looked at him. She stated for a groggy moment before it dawned on her. “Steve?” She whispered before repeating g it i a shout. She crashed to her knees, chest pressed against the side of the bed as she reached for him, holding his hand, touching his face, her fingers were butterflies flitting around his body, as if checking to see if he were real.

Dustin shot up from his corner. “Steve?” He dashed to the other side of the bed. He looked between Steve and Robin in disbelief. “Steve!” He started to cry. “I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want you to- why would you do that? I didn’t mean for you to die. I thought you were going to die.” He was sobbing and buried his face in the sheets.

Steve petted his head with one hand. “It’s okay, Dustin. It was my choice.” He squeezed Robin’s hand with his other. She began to cry too.

“What the hell, Dingus. I thought I’d lost you.”

“Where is everyone? Are they safe? Max?”

Dustin lifted his head slowly and shared a look with Robin. They both took a deep breath.

The heart monitor screamed as Steve staggered his way down the hall, having ripped off the monitors and IVs. Robin and Dustin were following, shouting at him to stop and be careful. He looked into the windows of each room, looking for the familiar red head of hair. Once he found her he threw the door open, causing Mike, Lucas, El, and Will to jump to their feet. He had a dark determination in his eyes as he marched for her bed, reaching out for her.

“What are you doing?” Lucas asked as Dustin and Robin skidded into the room.

“Just move.” Steve gritted out. The pain of moving had gotten so great he’d thrown ip in the hallway, but seeing max in all those casts doubled his fortitude.

The group realized what he was trying to do and move nearly in unison, standing in front of the bed to block the way.

“Steve stop.” Dustin said as he and Robin jumped in front of him, grabbing onto him to force him back. “Don’t do this. You’re already hurt enough. Anything else and you might-“ He choked a little.

“Let me go. Let me heal her.” Robin and Dustin threw themselves against him as hard as the could, trying to keep him back. “Let me heal her!” He shouted, halfway angry, halfway desperate.

“No.” Lucas said. “You’ve done enough. It’s enough.” He was almost giving Steve permission. Permission to stop, to heal, to live.

“We want you here, with us.” Robin said, her restraining changing to more of a hug.

“We don’t know what we’d do without you. Without your help. We need you with us just as much as anyone else.” Dustin said, remorse carving his face.

“It’s not what she’d want.” El said softly. “She’ll wake up… when she’s ready. She would never forgive herself if she healed at the cost of your life. The doctors say you can’t take much more.”

Steve collapsed, all momentum lost. Tears coursed down his face and neck as he struggled to breath. He just wanted to fix it. That’s what he was meant for. And yet his body burned with pain. He want even sure how he’d made it down the hall. Around him his friends help him, and each other in a group hug of tears and shaky breaths. Feeling more at peace, knowing that they, that Dustin, didn’t want to trade him for someone else. He wasn’t just of use to them, they loved him like he loved them. He wasn’t sure he could go on, stay awake as the others cried with him and around him. Steve felt light headed, like he was floating. The lights in the room seemed to grow brighter and dimmer then fade out all together. With a deep, tear stained breath, he slipped into darkness in the warmth of his friends arms.

There is a fic in the hobbit fandom where Bilbo has a Gift and he can take someone's injury from them. Aka. They scrape open their shin, he holds onto them a sec, and they're completely fine, but his leg is now bleeding. Direct transfer. This came about because that fandom really enjoys killing Bilbo in myriad horrifying ways.

So I was thinking about ST fandom, and how much we love to see Steve be insecure and self sacrificing. And If I'd watched the show maybe I'd have the details to do it right and talk about him taking head trauma from Lucas in 2, and undoing the damage to Robin before she wakes up and knows about it, but I don't know much more than that.

So just consider Dustin begging Steve to help Eddie after the bats. Dustin, who knows that Steve doesn't heal the injury, he takes it on. Dustin who would never ever ask for this if he was thinking straight. But Dustin is hysterical, and Steve is desperate, so he tries, and he succeeds. Steve sort of falls sideways after its done. For a second, Dustin is too focused on the color coming back to Eddie's face, and the way his eyes are focusing again to notice.

some free draw doodles i forgot to post, hello beatles commun

British men in their 40s-60s just hit different

For an answer other than both, I'm gonna have to go with Unrestrained *chef's kiss*

Got me horny for that hulk flavor

okay so what's the verdict: do we like unfettered or unrestrained better?? og or hulk flavor??

i'm honestly v curious

message from pluto (SBE 5)

pro tip: don't waste ur whole summer. 'specially if you are made of ice. u have all winter to be cold hearted.

Let There Be Vegetables

When I'm drawing

Me: There! All finished

Character: Umm...I think you've forgotten something

Me: What?

Character: I don't have any feet

Me: *nervously sweating* feet? Hahaha you don't need feet!

Character: Can't you draw feet?

Me: STOP PRESSURING ME