June 7th, 1942: Edward Hopper Completes His Best Known Painting, The Seminal Nighthawks. When Asked By

Multisexuality is not refusing to pick: it’s decisive! No matter what label you use, you’re a valid part of this community 💗💐

Reblog if you’re multisexual or support multisexual members of our family!

Reblog this if you think writing is an art

I literally had to reblog this twice in a row

sooooooo, green onions are half of an aromantic flag

just need some grey and black

i can only draw one thing and that is blonde girl with ponytail flirting with cat girl with no ponytail

this is castle duo, right?

HalCon is this weekend so if you’re in Halifax, come and visit me at the ScotiaBank Centre, table M4! Meanwhile, I thought i’d compile all the Avatar: The Last Airbender pin-ups I did this year. I CAN’T STOP LOVING THIS SHOW. It is still my favorite animated TV show, right beside Batman:The Animated Series.

AU where Sokka’s high-on-cactus-juice encounter with the giant mushroom takes a dark turn. (Also he has a gun)

based on this beautiful tumblr post

bonus:

Aletheia, a Scott centric Empires SMP x 3rd Life fanfic

No warnings, 4301 words. Past Scott/Jimmy. Angst and emotional hurt. 

Read on ao3 here! 

Summary:

Aletheia: unclosedness, unconcealedness, disclosure, truth; the state of not being hidden, the state of being evident. Opposite of Lethe, meaning oblivion, forgetfulness, concealment.

Scott remembers Third Life, as much as he would rather not. He’s an Emperor, now, with an Emperor’s business to attend to, and that includes meeting with the ancient deer deity of his kingdom, who is far more perceptive than he would like.

Or, Scott does not want to talk about Jimmy, but that matters little when your new god can read your thoughts.

Excerpt:

He meets the Guardian of Rivendell in a small clearing of stone and spruce in a jagged crack in the mountainside only accessible by air and by magic.

It’s snow-frosted, like everything else in Rivendell, crystals hanging from pine needles and glittering in the afternoon sun, grass crunching beneath his footfalls. The trees are tall and dark and reaching for the sky in their cloaks of wintergreen, berry bushes and brambles a circlet upon the earth’s burdened brow. The berries are holly, yew, toxic-bright, like splashes of blood, like eyes. The thought startles Scott, heart throbbing in his throat, and he tears his own eyes- blue eyes- away.

He is alone and then he is not.

Why did you call me, Guardian?

You are troubled. Now, come and talk with me a while.

LGBTQIA+/gay lockscreen and video process

(No reposting! Reblogging is always appreciated though!)