course of time

2

Every time Regina or Zelena or someone equally good and pure gives up on their happy ending to do a good thing™, because “that’s what heroes do”, I want to make them t-shirts saying “WE ARE VILLAINS AND WE ARE PROUD” and make this the new motto of the show and give them back their basic human right of being selfish.

Asami Sato & Avatar Korra - The Legend of Korra- Bisexual

Marceline & Princess Bubblegum- Adventure Time- Bisexual

Sheriff Blubs & Deputy Durland- Gravity Falls- Gay

Thea & Edie- Doc McStuffins- Lesbians

Pearl- Steven Universe- Lesbian

Ruby & Sapphire- Steven Universe- Lesbians

EJ & Sue Randell- Clarence- Lesbians

Howard & Harold McBride- The Loud House- Gay

Luna Loud- The Loud House- Bisexual

Cyrus Goodman- Andi Mack- Gay

I’m so happy to be living in a time where there are LGBT+ characters in kids’ shows!!

2

Wouldn’t miss this for the world

A little AU meet-cute based on @billypoindexter‘s prompt (someone else may have already done it, but I haven’t written any zimbits in forever):

So I was watching Say Yes to the Dress yesterday and Corbin Bleu and his fiancé (now wife) Sasha Clements were on it and when they asked how they met Sasha said they met in a grocery store and she kind of recognized him, and figured he was an acquaintance whose name she had forgotten. So she goes “Hey!! How are you?” and they chat for a bit before she realizes that she knows him because he’s famous.


Bitty was rounding the end of the cereal aisle, rechecking the grocery list to see if he’d gotten everything and wondering what was wrong with the state of public education in New England that none of his roommates had apparently learned basic penmanship, when he ran into someone.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, and suppressed the wince as his accent reflexively came out full force. (It was partly the apologizing, and partly that he’d learned people were more forgiving if they thought he wasn’t from ’round here. He’d decided to embrace it; if he couldn’t get rid of the accent, it might as well be good for something.)

“No, no problem,” said the person, and then Bitty actually looked at him and felt that familiar terror of countless small-town grocery runs with his mother, where they ran into someone that he knew he was supposed to know, but could not place for the life of him, let alone remember an actual name.

“Well, hey!” he exclaimed, racking his brain frantically for the reason this guy looked so familiar. Surely he’d remember someone who looked like that. Lord. There was nothing, though, so he let autopilot take over. “How have you been?”

Tall, Dark, and Handsome blinked at him. (How could Bitty have forgotten eyes that blue? What even was wrong with him today? This was ridiculous.) “Uh, okay, actually. Yup. Everything going well.”

“Well, that’s great!” Bitty glanced at his list again. “Hey, can you read this? I genuinely can’t tell if this is supposed to be English.”

The guy obligingly took the paper from him and squinted at it. “Provolone, I think.”

Bitty took the list back and stared at it for a second. “I think you’re right. Honestly, Holster.”

“I was just heading toward the deli myself.”

“How perfect! I really kind of hate shopping by myself? But this was just supposed to be a quick in and out, or at least it was until I realized I apparently live with chickens in human guise who never learned to write properly.”

By the time Bitty and The Guy checked out and parted ways half an hour later, Bitty still hadn’t recalled his name, and by then it was clearly too late to admit it.

Oh well, he’d probably remember later, when he was trying to fall asleep.

~*~*~*~

“You know,” he called pointedly from the kitchen, “y’all could make yourselves useful and help me put all these things away.”

“Yes! Bro! Did you see that pass?” Holster yelled instead.

“Beauty,” Ransom answered, and then there was the sound of a high-five.

Bitty sighed and stuck his head around the corner to see what they were yelling about now.

SportsCenter, as usual, was on, playing highlights from the Falconers’ game the night before. As Bitty watched, it switched from the on-ice play to an intermission interview.

An intermission interview. With the guy from the grocery store.

Jack Zimmermann.

“Oh my god,” Bitty said for the second time that day, hands to his cheeks, which were indeed burning up.

Holster looked over at him in concern. “Bits? What’s wrong? Why do you look like a tomato?”

“I just spent half an hour casually grocery shopping with Jack fucking Zimmermann because I thought he looked familiar and I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t place him. Oh my god, I could just die.”

Ransom and Holster exchanged glances and then they were on him. “No shit! What’s he like? What did he buy? Tell us everything!”

“I can never shop there again,” Bitty said faintly.

6

Rocky as The Man Who Came Out from Comics (from Astro’s self-produced drama “남친 우유”)

“Why is this taking so long? You’re supposed to be efficient.”

“And you’re supposed to be a rational partner but life is full of disappointment.”

3

1/∞

… okay so i definitely was going to animate dre under the lovely @cursetale‘s blessing and… then i couldn’t get Dreby outta my head so here we are

i’m totally working on Dre but man i just could not resist that face and those bunny ears are you kidding me

from this gorgeous chain from last week or so between cursetale and the also-fantastic @blesstale because just… hell yes. hell goddamn yes.

Rage

Draco feels a tremor tear through him. His fists are clenched, his jaw muscles tense, his chest tight, his knees wobbly. He’s breathing heavily as his stomach twists viciously, the hot feeling inside it beginning to spread, infecting the rest of his body. Like venom. He stares down the empty corridor, lit by torches. His vision blurs, little spots appearing in front of him. He feels dizzy. He wants to scream. He wants this feeling inside of him to take physical form, so he can punch it, destroy it.

He wants the rage to leave his body.

Well, what Draco really wants is the cause of his rage to go away. How many letters from his father is he supposed to receive calmly, while Lucius keeps going on and on about how disappointed he is in his son, not sure if he can be even called his son any longer.

Draco feels sick. His stomach gives another twist, but Draco refuses to show weakness. He will not be sick. No. He hears, rather than feels, his jaw cracking as he tenses his muscles further. His arms are shaking now. Unthinkingly, he turns to the wall and punches it. Hard. He feels no pain, but there’s another cracking sound.

Draco feels his eyes sting, which only makes him angrier. This will not make him cry. He will not spill a single tear over this. And yet, he can’t seem to stop the hot tears from running down his cheeks.

He startles when he hears footsteps echoing off the walls. He hastily wipes the tears away with his sleeve and looks up. Of course. Of course it has to be Potter!

“Malfoy.” He sounds puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

Draco doesn’t answer and averts his eyes, in fear of Potter noticing he just had a moment of weakness.

“Malfoy,” Potter repeats. Draco feels a new surge of anger course through him. He wants to hit Potter. Hexing him wouldn’t be gratifying enough. He wants to physically injure him with his hands, his whole body.

Before Potter knows what’s happening, Draco lunges at him. His fist connects with his jaw and Potter stumbles backward. He blinks a few times, obviously flabbergasted and blinks at Draco stupidly. After a moment, he frowns.

“What the hell, Malfoy?”

Draco lunges at him again, trying to land a punch. His vision blurs once more, making it difficult to see where to hit Potter. But it doesn’t matter. Draco doesn’t care which part of Potter he will injure, as long as it hurts. He wants Potter to hurt as much as he does.

But Potter is fighting back. He hits Draco in the stomach, making him flinch. He welcomes the sharp pain. It numbs the other sensations in his body. It doesn’t last long, though. Once again, he feels detached from his body.

Draco’s not sure, but he thinks he got Potter on his shoulder and punched his chest, knocking the breath out of him. When Draco starts whirling around again, striking out in an uncontrolled manner, he suddenly feels arms encircling him, clutching him.

“Damn it, Malfoy, stop,” Potter shouts. He tightens his grip, trying to get Draco to stop moving. Draco fights against the restraint, tries to break free, but Potter is apparently stronger than him.

“Bloody hell, I heard you’ve been starting fights lately for no apparent reason,” Potter squeezes out while Draco still tries to get him off him. “What is the matter with you?”

Draco just grunts and tries to shove his elbow into Potter’s side. He fails. When all his attempts fail, he finally slumps down. Potter, surprised by the sudden extra weight, tumbles and they both go down.

Draco needs a moment to realise he’s half sitting in Potter’s lap, his body still somewhat encircled by Potter’s arms. It’s too much. Draco can’t take this. The hot tears he spilled earlier are nothing compared to what’s happening right now. He’s choking on his own sobs, every inhale torture to his lungs.

He can’t even win a fight against Potter, Draco thinks bitterly. Is his father right? Is Draco really a disappointment? Draco is faintly aware that he’s heaving and puffing, his chest aching.

“Malfoy,” Potter says quietly, uncertainty clear in his voice. He hasn’t moved his arms and Draco wants to slap them away, because the warmth that’s seeping through his robes is too bittersweet for him to bear. It’s not Potter’s intention to comfort him with this proximity.

“Your hand,” Potter suddenly mutters. Draco looks down at it. His hand his bruised and swollen, the skin on his knuckles cracked. He still doesn’t feel any pain. He’s just numb, like most days lately, not in control of his own body.

He hates that he can’t get up and just leave. He’s still sitting in Potter’s lap, sobbing like a child. Draco feels a tentative finger under his chin and tries to jerk his head away, but Potter’s grip is firm. He forces Draco to look at him and Draco can do nothing against it. He stares at Potter as several emotions pass over his face. His eyes are wide and his mouth opens to release a warm puff of breath. Draco feels it on his face and it’s like Potter has struck him.

The aching in his chest worsens and Draco breaks down completely. He lets his head fall down, not caring where it lands. The fingers under his chin disappear, as Draco’s head hits something solid. Potter’s shoulder, he realises, when something soft tickles his ear. Potter’s hair.

Draco knows this is wrong. He knows Potter is getting a glimpse of something, Draco has been trying to hide from everyone. He can’t show weakness. He just can’t.

He isn’t sure, at first, if he’s imagining something pressing into his back and the warmth on his cheek, until he tries to turn his head and finds that he can’t. Because Potter’s cheek is pressing into his, his arms are around Draco once more. He’s drawing circles on Draco’s back with his palms rather awkwardly.

Draco really does know this is wrong and he has no idea what possessed Potter to actually try and comfort him, but when Draco feels a warm hand move over his head and begins stroking his hair, Draco closes his eyes and decides that, just for tonight, he will forget about everything that is wrong.