This Quill Keeps On

this is it this is the most important dress up game i’ve ever posted go make yourself into a high class trainer you nerd


Sorry for the blurry photos. I thought I was in control. Was probably laughing too hard.

Played Cards Against Humanity for the first time. I am a broken man. The last photo just about killed me.


When people ask how you’re doing at the end of the semester




This is when you realize how many songs this movie has O.O

I think I don’t have an excuse, I just wanted to draw these ‘-‘

You don’t need an excuse.

This is good.

268,034 plays



(pitched to different “gender”)

Sorry for low-tier quality, I just really wanted to hear what this would sound like. 



make me choose: Natasha Romanoff or Maria Hill (for Monz)

my daddy never did get what he wanted, but he had what he needed; he had love. he never lost sight of what was really important, and neither will i!

this is my 30,000th post on tumblr


what a ride!

To all the Tumblr users who tend to use tags very liberally:


Let’s play a game.

Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up.

you, also, what, when, why, how, look, because, never



why do people do these things?

look it’s a dana schutz painting photograph



why do people do these things?

look it’s a dana schutz painting photograph

i think i need to do the sleep

or at least rest

i feel kinda sick but that’s what happens when you spend most of the day eating candy

Dirkjane pregnancy fluff??


thtjrngekjfskjgnfsdjk THIS ENDED UP LONG I’M SORRY:

You had always been a light sleeper. It’s been hard-wired into your system ever since you could remember, this inane ability to wake at the sound of a pin drop and be completely rested. It was kind of like what that Swiss Banker douche in The Da Vinci Code could do, except you weren’t running a classy establishment to serve the rich and eccentric. You were often avoiding surprise strifes with your Bro in your youth, and more recently you were…well, you were needed.

Like you are tonight.

Jane is fidgeting in bed. She’s not moving a lot, because she knows you’ll wake up and she’s trying not to do that anymore – really, you told her you don’t mind, you’re partly responsible for her disturbed sleep – but you can hear her hum softly, without a tune. She stops and gasps when you reach your arms around, hands covering hers as they rest on the swell of her belly.

God, she’s gotten big.

“Sorry,” She whispers, a groggy croak to her voice, “He’s restless.”

You shift a bit, rest your forehead on her shoulder. “Not a problem,” You say, and you slip your hands under hers, rubbing at the spots where you can feel the little one kicking away at her stomach. The heel of your hand is pressed by the heel of a foot. “Don’t worry about me. I can run on less than an hour’s sleep at one hundred percent. This guy’s going to keep you up at night long after he’s out of diapers, the least he can do is let you sleep now.”

Thank goodness she’s too tired to argue. The warmth of your hands makes her melt into exhaustion, and you can feel her begin to doze off even as she mumbles a mixture between refusal and thanks. Even when the little one calms himself, you stay up for a while in case he begins again.

Dirk and Jane doing something silly together?


Aw yeah all up in the silly then:

You sip from your teacup with care, puckering your lips in just the right way to keep your false mustache from becoming wet. It’s a fine Darjeeling oolong, particularly refreshing, and you’re going to have to ask Roxy where her mother got the mix. Perhaps your Dad would like to try it in the mornings instead of the usual coffee.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Dirk,” You say as you set the cup down, “Your tea brewing is superb. I never would have expected such a skill to be in your repertoire.”

He shrugs at you from across the table. One of the straps of the orange dress with the ridiculously ugly paisley pattern slides off of his shoulder, and he pulls it back up. “Shucks, Jane. Can’t have a tea party without choice brews, right?”

Lil’ Sebastian nods from his seat at the table. Poor little thing can’t drink the tea, of course, or eat any of the little cakes you prepared as you pulled on one of your Dad’s old suits, but he’s certainly good at miming it.

“Hoo hoo! No, I suppose you can’t.”