Another Emily the werecat redesign/drawing

my oldest oc ❤

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…an oddly colorful undersuit? *shrugs*

Update!

Okay, So! Michelle told me that her mother is going to try to go to court to work out a payment plan! This will mean that instead of it being all at once or she’s out, it’ll be over time. Somewhat easier to deal with, especially compared to a 5 day eviction notice. Anyway, all I can do now is hope that that works out okay, and that she will not be evicted.

In the meantime: Thank you guys so, so much for donating and/or reblogging!! There’s something like $90 I believe? Which is amazing, especially within such a short time span! and both of us, especially michelle of course, are so grateful!! You guys are awesome ❤ ❤ ❤  I will try to keep everyone updated on what’s going on with the situation. 

thank you again!

MERMAIDS&FAIRIES!

hacash:

babystormpilot:

bloodandivy:

sabreprincess:

rabbitrecycle:

stardustqueen:

ouijacraft:

Everyone who reblogs this from now until Saturday April 16th (2016) gets a drawing of a fairy or mermaid based on their blog!!

I’m serious! EVERYONE gets one.

Just say whether you would like fairy or mermaid when you reblog.

Mermaid????!! Please??

0: a fairy please!

Mermaid????!!!!!! 💜

mermaid!!!

fairy omg i need this in my life

mermaid please! ❤

sourwolfsam:

Gryffindors are bright mornings, leaves dripping in gold. They’re the trailblazers, unafraid of the road ahead. They’re laughing so loud your stomach hurts, the knowledge that your friends are right behind you wherever you go. They’re ice skating with someone you love, clinging on to them for dear life. They’re make-believe games with quests and dragons and swords pointing at the sky. They’re rosy cheeks, winter winds and freezing hands. They’re the adrenaline when a plane takes off, the drop at the top of a rollercoaster. They’re delighted screams and freedom, the wind through your hair. They’re panting, pillow fights, feathers bursting into the air. They’re finger painting and festivals and burning sunsets. They’re the burn in your lung after chasing something you’ll never be able to catch. 

Hufflepuffs are honey and flowers and the soft autumn sun. They’re knitted jumpers and scarves and soft tan boots. They’re fresh air and nature, the sound of birds singing. They’re rolling down a hill in the spring, grass stains on your knees, daisy chains in your hair. They’re waving at someone across a crowded room, bright smiles and laughter. They’re coming home after a long day and seeing your family. They’re playing fetch with your dog, your cat weaving between your feet. They’re fluffy socks and song birds and kraft notebooks with hand drawn patterns. They’re throw cushions on a bed, a tiny cottage surrounded by wilderness. They’re the ground beneath your feet, the air that you breathe. They’re the light you chase when you thought you’d never see the morning. 

Ravenclaws are leather bound books and overstocked libraries. They’re waking up at two am to google that thing that’s bugging you. They’re journals with half the words crossed out, scribbles and ink stains and missing pages. They’re stretching when you’ve been hunched over all day, rolling off the edge of a bed, burrowing in blankets. They’re torch light and held breaths and reverent whispers. They’re the entire night sky and everything beyond it; the embodiment of the universe. They’re desperate searches and hidden castles and ghost stories by firelight. They’re the mystery of a dark corridor, the force of a whirlwind. They’re the excitement of discovery, the rustle of crunched up paper. They’re the last whisper before you fall asleep. 

Slytherins are foggy hillsides and picturesque landscapes. They’re hand written love notes and subtle glances across a classroom. They’re black boots, long coats, buttons done up to the top. They’re tipping your head back to breathe the air, kicking up stones on a deserted path. They’re mirrored lakes, everything below the surface. They’re the confidence to get something right, the feel of magic in your fingertips. They’re holding your breath underwater, pretending to be a mermaid when you swim. They’re finding that one song that makes you want to create a storm. They’re the chill in the breeze, the force in the tide. They’re enchanted forests and lingering glances and long drives. They’re the lightning and the thunder and everything in between.