I reckon this town IS big enough for the two of us 😳💕‼️
The first of two of my pieces in @/NATMzine!! leftover sale is happening now!! 🤠✨
NASA
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ojovivo

blake kathryn
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things

pixel skylines
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Love Begins
styofa doing anything
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Claire Keane
sheepfilms
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

JBB: An Artblog!

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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Misplaced Lens Cap
will byers stan first human second

if i look back, i am lost

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@easilyaddictedin123
I reckon this town IS big enough for the two of us 😳💕‼️
The first of two of my pieces in @/NATMzine!! leftover sale is happening now!! 🤠✨
The boy who swallowed a star
Yearly Reminder that C.S Lewis encouraged his fans to write fanfiction about Susan Pevensie becoming a friend to Narnia and reuniting with her family once again.
Literally inviting his fans to write Susan’s adult, angsty character development with a happy ending.
Do your duty fans. Write that fanfiction.
you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.
without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.
your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.
your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.
your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?
your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.
your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.
who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?
The Pevensie children are too old for their age.
Their mom notices, at the dinner table. She sees no nagging children, no stupid fights. She sees Lucy eating and speaking with perfect manners, Edmund analysing the economy and war with concerning skill, Susan being gracious but poised, like a diplomat.
Their father sees it in Peters eyes the first time they get into a fight. When he moves to punish Edmund for speaking out of turn, Peter calls him out on it. When his gaze meet his eldest son's, he's leveled by the war he sees behind it, the tensed muscle in his arm, the knuckles white around his knife. He's seen that before, in other soldiers. He doesn't know how to react.
Other children notice, too. Talking to all the Pevensie kids at the same time is like being the only one left out of a secret, and the way they touch and tease each other speaks of a history far deeper than their polite demeneor lets on. And when they walk they fall in line, as if there is a natural hierarchy between them.
The first time anyone picks a fight with Edmund, Peter comes home with a three week suspension and blood around his mouth. He looks more alive than you've seen him in weeks.
When Susan gets back in the pool after Narnia, she wins all the contests. Coaches can't explain how to beat her, because they don't understand how she's doing it, either. She seems to almost disappear when underwater.
Lucy, always gay and golden-haired, starts dancing, and never misses a step. She moves with an elegance that no 10 year old should have, and all the girls want to be friends with her
Edmund soon becomes the best student in his faculty. He always seems to know the right thing to say, and teachers laud his ability to think through complex problems. His mouth does get him in trouble sometimes, but the boy seems uncatchable, always talking his way through the cracks. And if not?
No one actively fears Peter, but everyone is a little scared of him sometimes. He's tall for his age, sure, but there is something else, some other air that seems to give him an authority far beyond what's normal for a teenage boy. He's nice enough, but teachers can't stand it, and bullies learn very quickly that pissing him off means missing teeth and black eyes.
The Pevensies are not quite inhuman, but not fully mortal, either
met a new kinda guy on twitter today
If you can look me in the eye and tell me that Aegon the Conquer didn't have an all out brawl with his sisters at some point in the throne room over something seemingly non consequential you've never witnessed siblings in their glory.
Luke always felt safest holding his mother’s hand. 💔
why must we play god
Artistic representation of how the lemon was invented in the first place
"citrus are whores" is not something i expected to see on the hellsite today
I’m not wrong though they are EASILY the sluttiest fruits. You don’t see Rosales pulling this shit. I mean yeah apples will breed weird new apples but nothing fucks around like citrus.
#so we’re slutshaming the fruits now?
Tags that look homophobic without context
Ser Erryk Cargyll the man that you are.
why didn’t I uploaded this before? I seriously can’t remember.
idk if you guys are already tired of me but here’s another fanart for another incredible fem!bilbo story! This one is called "The Most Precious of Treasures“ by the ever awesome SapphireShelle91
so if you guys haven’t read this before I NOW ORDER YOU TO GO AND READ THE HELL OUT OF THIS STORY CUZ IS JUST THAT GOOD OKAY. BABY FRODO IS TOO CUTE FOR WORDS AND MAMA BILBO IS SO MUCH BADASS THAT I CAN’T EVEN
just read it.
More fanart for Driven Out and Taken In!
Because the last new chapters were so awesome with some hobbit-dwarf bonding time, little Ori being so adorable I almost got cavities, also the big boys chasing out the baddies and Bilba being generally a BAMF –I HAD TO DO SOMETHING.
omg Bofur dear, get well soon.
On another note– I seem to have lost my ability to can bcoz I suddenly got the flu. My brain is on holidays at the moment and will not return for a few days. So I apologize in advance in my general lack of coherency on everything.
happy times~ Also found on my AO3
kindly ignore my incapacity to draw a decent thorin pls
omfg I just caught up with the story and jfc THE AUTHOR WROTE SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL USING REFERENCES FROM THIS PIECE I JUST
I fangirled so hard
I’ve found a new nemesis.
water
oh, and don’t forget.
steam
christ I hate water. But still. Bonding time on the tub!
⚠️SCAM ALERT⚠️
soo scams have been on the rise lately. i was recently approached by a woman saying she wanted a portrait of her daughter for $200. she “accidentally” wrote a check for $2000 instead, wanting me to send back $1800.
i almost did it, because i assumed a faulty check wouldn’t deposit. luckily i looked up mobile banking check scams. YOU CAN STILL BE SCAMMED WITH A BAD CHECK. it won’t flag it till later, leaving you owing money.
i just wanted to share this because i could’ve been totally fucked over if i didn’t look it up. stay safe out there guys
Thank you, OP, it is always good to see awareness being spread about scams! Knowledge and skepticism are the best ways to fight them.
This one’s a popular variation on what’s called an ‘overpayment’ scam. Any time anybody sends (general) you money and then asks you to send some of that money back, you should be looking out for this.
Also, because apparently a lot of younger people don’t know this: cheques aren’t immediate payments. It can take five to ten days for a cheque to clear - that is, for the other bank or credit union to get notified about the cheque trying to be withdrawn from the account they hold, determine whether or not the cheque is legit and the funds are available, and either let the cheque go through or ask for the money back if the cheque is bad. Yes, you can see your account balance go up immediately, but that money gets taken right back out of your account if the cheque is bad.
On an episode of Bar Rescue I saw once, the bar owners hadn’t paid their staff for several months, and Jon Taffer insisted that they pay their staff before he’d help them. However, he had the bar owners write the manager a cheque for the back wages, and then go and deposit the cheque to her account that same day, and then when she came back the same day and said she’d been able to deposit the cheque, he went ahead. That cheque could easily have bounced three days later and the staff still wouldn’t have been paid their back wages.
It’s a good rule of thumb, if you’re accepting a cheque, to assume the money isn’t actually there until at least a week has passed. (Some banks or credit unions will have what’s called a ‘standard hold’ on certain types of cheque deposits, so that you actually can’t access those funds until after the cheque clears. If you’ve ever deposited a cheque at an ATM, you’ve probably run into this.)
And finally, before I get off my soapbox again, if anybody ever emails you an image of a cheque, it’s fake. End of. You can’t email cheques and then deposit them any more than you can email dollar bills and then print them out and spend them.
this happens to me every day i dont know how to make it stop
can we nominate him for the Darwin award
Oh thank God someone explained this.