dear god the horror

How the hell did we go from this: 

the Emma who knew how to dress and wore flattering clothes that represented who she is (a total badass with a sleek, fitting dress sense)

to this: 

Some horrible Victorianesque gown that screams of restriction and restraint and makes Emma look like she’s being enlisted into some sort of terrible cult?! 

inspired by a friend who said “what if like misty wasn’t just trapped forever in hell but papa legba eventually turned her into some mindless swamp demon thing?”

War is hell.

There is a Slurpuff. Its name is Malkorok, it belongs to KoL (of Pokecharms) and it is a terrifyingly powerful unholy abomination noted for augmenting itself and wearing down its opponents a lot quicker than one would expect of its kind. There is also a gun in Destiny 2 called the Merciless, which does the same thing, but in a slightly different way.

Somehow the two got put together - and I simply could not resist doodling the resulting lurking horror.

A very quick doodle with a very quick coat of paint, but it just had to happen.

(Actually working on a proper picture now but it is taking longer than expected. So have this trainwreck in the meantime. xD)

Okay so I got hit with a stupid crack fic idea while watching this show on Neflix. Anyways.

  • Imagine Blue strong arming the Charming’s into signing up for a couples talent contest at the town hall, it’s to raise money for the school roof so obviously they can’t say no. 
  • Emma and Killian are chuckling to themselves about the couple’s misfortune when Blue turns to them expectantly and what do you know- they’re being forced to sign up too.

“It’s just a little bit of fun but there is a trophy for the winners.”

  • The catch is that they have to pick a slip of paper out of a jar and whatever is written on it is what they have to base their song or dance on.

Emma and Killian get Kung Fu.

Snow and David get Disco.

  • Team Swan-Jones stay silent, feeling somewhat relieved that they could breeze through while Snow and David begin to bicker… which leads to Snow declaring that they’re switching partners.

“It’ll be fun! Plus, you’re great for a line dance, not so much a hustle.”

“And you think Killian will be any better?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Both Emma and Killian look at each other helplessly as a battle between the prince and princess begins.

  • Emma and David take up rehearsing at Emma’s house, finding that they’re having a blast until Emma puts David on his ass one too many times and accidentally gives him a nosebleed. They begin to brainstorm changing their routine when Emma spots Henry’s XBox and has an idea.
  • Meanwhile, Snow holds Killian hostage at the loft, teaching him all about disco much to his discomfort.

Henry accidentally sparks off Snow’s competitive side by commenting on how well Emma and David are doing which leads to her asking the teen to spy for them.

“Love, that’s bad form-”

“Stuff the bad form Killian, we need to know what we’re up against. Now Henry, how would you like to earn a little cash for that motorbike fund?”

  • Of course Emma figures out just what Henry is up to and bribes him with spilling the beans on what her mother and husband are up to. Henry takes the opportunity to play them off against each other and earn himself almost $80 by the end of it.
  • Dinner that Wednesday is made up completely with trash talk. Both teams subtly trying to brag about how they’re going to win while not wanting to give anything away.

Then Saturday finally arrives.

The hall is packed out, covered in decorations and a large trophy sits in front of the stage on a table where Archie, Blue and Belle are judging the acts.

  • David and Emma are up first. They take to the stage in matching kung fu robes as the familiar sound of ‘kung fu fighting’ begins. They’re surprisingly good, performing a martial arts themed dance.
  • Snow watches and realises why their performance looks so familiar.

“They’re doing the routine from just dance! Those cheating, no good-”

“That monstrosity on Henry’s games machine?”

“Yes! Oh… the nerve!”

She turns to Killian who’s decked out in a shiny black shirt and tight black flares.

“Undo your shirt buttons. We need to play dirty.”

“I don’t think i’m comfortable with that, your majesty. I feel daft enough-”

“Oh shush! It doesn’t look any different to your usual outfits.” Before dragging him backstage to get ready.

  • David and Emma get a massive applause and grab a seat in the audience feeling smug with themselves…. Until Snow and Killian appear on stage.
  • The beginning of ‘staying alive’ starts up and Snow gives Killian a death glare before he turns to the audience with a forced smirk, a wink and begins undoing his shiny shirt buttons halfway down. The audience begins to wolf whistle and jeer much to Snow’s delight. It’s working.

He begins thrusting his hips to the beat which earns a bigger cheer from the audience much to Emma and David’s horror.

“Dear god, my mother is pimping out my husband on stage.”

Snow removes her shawl to reveal a sparkly disco leotard and the two fall into a synchronised dance from Saturday night fever.

  • Emma and Killian subtly congratulate each other while Snow and David continue their pissing contest as Granny and Marco take to the stage and sing ‘you’re the one that I want’ from Grease. They get a standing ovation.
  • In the end, Granny and Marco win the trophy with the dwarves taking second place with their rendition of ‘fight for your right’ by the beastie boys.
  • Neither couple got placed but take their bruised pride back to granny’s with the rest of the town to celebrate.
  • Soon enough they’re laughing with the rest and happy they all raised enough to fix the school roof.
  • Granny puts the trophy up on display behind the counter that Snow stares at longingly.

“You really wanted to win that thing, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

David can’t help chuckling and hugging his true love, kissing her forehead.

“Maybe next year.”

  • Snow’s declaration that she’ll be teaming up with Emma next time causes yet another battle between the true loves… Emma and Killian slowly sneak out of the booth, not wanting to get caught up again.

anonymous asked:

Hey there! A million thanks for finding my fic earlier (godparents)!! I saw on AO3 that AU prompts are accepted, so here I am dropping a little plot bunny. Basically sibling related AUs will do, e.g. on alouettesque's list: “Oh so you’re the camp counselor my little sibling keeps talking about”, "Our little siblings are on rival sports teams and I’ve made it my life goal to cheer louder than you". Cheers!

Going with the first prompt, sorry it’s taken me so long. Enjoy this uni!lock (aged) Sherlolly ficlet.

Counselor Trap

“Oh, so you’re the one!” Molly blurted out without meaning to, then turned beet red in mortification. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that, it wasn’t an insult, I just wasn’t expecting, that is to say…you really are cu–uh, currently…here. At camp. And not…somewhere else,” she finished lamely.

The Really Cute Counselor her younger sister Tabitha “Toby” Hooper had been gushing over all summer simply lifted an eyebrow as Molly floundered and eventually clamped her lips shut. After the silence had stretched out for almost ten excruciating seconds he finally spoke. “You must be Molly Hooper, the older sister Toby’s always gushing about. The smart, sophisticated college student who has her act together and knows what she wants to do with her life already and is way too good for the likes of you, Curly Fu,” he said in a more-than-passable imitation of Toby’s speech patterns when she was on a tear.

“She, um, didn’t tell me you knew the nickname she’d given you,” Molly said weakly. “She heard that the Chinese press had given that nickname to some actor and she insisted it fit you better but I just assumed she’d actually kept that to herself.” Shut up, Molly, she advised herself. Stop making yourself look like an even bigger idiot than you already have. Why do gorgeous men always make you feel so awkward?

Instead of laughing at her or making one of the staggeringly accurate deductions Toby insisted he did all the time, even when Mrs. Hudson and Head Counselor Lestrade tell him to knock it off, he smiled. Not a mean smile and not a cold, fake smile (Toby said he could do those too…come to think of it, Toby said a LOT about Counselor Curly Fu, now that Molly thought about it)…she completely lost her train of thought at that smile, reaching out dazedly to take the hand he extended. “Sherlock Holmes, although I suppose you can call me Curly Fu if you’d like. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, it’s just that…well, Toby’s talked you up quite a bit and I was expecting someone a bit more intimidating, to be honest.”

“Um, well, she also talked you up quite a bit and I thought you would be, too. More intimidating. I mean, well, you are, actually, a bit, but not because you’re…it’s just that you’re really gorgeous and fit and I have never ever in my life been able to talk to gorgeous, fit blokes and oh lord just bury me now,” she groaned, trying to take her hand back so she could cover her face. Which was currently hot enough to bake an excellent Christmas pudding on.

“Good,” Sherlock said, not letting go of her hand. “Because I’ve always been rubbish at talking to girls - women now, I suppose since I can actually talk to girls or I’d be the worst camp counselor ever, if I could only talk to the boys.” 

There was a hint of pink in his cheeks, Molly noted when she dared to raise her eyes back to his face, and his speech had become almost as flustered as his own. That gave her the confidence to meet his smile with one of her own. “Maybe we should start over?” she suggested tentatively.

His grip on her hand tightened before he pulled it away. “Excellent idea.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Hi, I’m Sherlock Holmes, one of the counselors here at Camp Sherwood. You must be Molly Hooper, Toby’s sister. Very pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand again.

She smiled and shook it firmly. “Hi, yes, I’m Molly. So lovely to finally meet you. Sorry our parents couldn’t be here but they’re actually at a country line dancing festival in the US right now - Georgia, I think.”

“The Hotlanta Line Dance Jam*?” Sherlock asked.

Molly stared at him. “Um, yeah, how did you…”

“My parents love country line dancing, they practically live in the US,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “I, er, guess Toby wasn’t kidding when she said we’d have a lot in common.”

“You know it, Counselor Curly Fu!”

She and Sherock both turned at the sound of Toby’s smug voice. The twelve-year-old who was a miniature version of her nineteen-year-old sister was grinning widely. “Hi Molly!” She hugged her sister tightly and was hugged just as tightly in return. Sherlock started to move away to give them some privacy, but Toby quickly grabbed his wrist. “I have to go to archery practice, you have to show Molly around and then we can get lunch and you can tell her how awesome I am at everything, ‘kay? Laters!”

With that she darted off to join a group of other kids, grabbing up a quiver of arrows and a bow on her way.

Molly and Sherlock both stared after the diminutive Hurricane Hooper, then turned back to face one another. “Sooo…care for a tour?” Sherlock asked, crooking his arm as if they were at a Victorian ball.

“Delighted,” Molly replied, resting her hand lightly on his elbow. “And while you point out the sights, feel free to share your opinion on cowboy boots.”

“Hate ‘em,” he replied promptly. “And the hats too. Did your parents make you wear them for family photos?”

Molly shuddered. “No, thank God, but don’t get me started on the fringed vests…and the chaps, dear GOD the horror of the chaps!”

                                                         oOo

“Told you they’d be perfect for each other,” Toby said smugly to her best friend at camp.

Rosie Watson grinned. “Now we just have to find someone for Head Counselor Lestrade, and the summer will be perfect!”

Giggling, the two pre-teens hoisted their quivers of arrows onto their shoulders and hurried to join the rest of the group.

After all, they needed to maintain their reputation as Junior Cupids in more ways than one!

*Hotlanta Line Dance Jam 2017

Scribble-Doodle: Sweaters

“Don’t you dare!” Alec barks, stomping into the room.

Magnus freezes for a second like the proverbial deer in the headlights, but then he turns around slowly and lifts the… thing he was about to quietly and definitely rid them of. “This isn’t a sweater, it’s a rag that something big, ugly and toothy chewed on and then spit out in disgust!” 

“Gimme that!” Alec snatches it back and cradles it protectively. 

Magnus throws up his hands. “I give up. Just give me one good reason for why you insist on insulting my closet with this… this…” He finds no fitting words.

Alec narrows his eyes and says, “Fine. Come here.” Then he grabs Magnus and starts manhandling the faintly protesting warlock around like rag doll, until he manages to pull the tattered, greenish-grey thing over his head and stuff his slender arms through the loose sleeves. 

When Alec turns his lover towards the full length mirror in the corner of their bedroom, Magnus almost recoils in horror. “Dear God, what ever did I do to you?”

Alec snorts, then he winds his arms around Magnus from behind and props his chin on Magnus’ shoulder. “Shh. Now, close your eyes for a second and just feel. Come on,” Alec prompts gently when Magnus glares at him.

With a put upon sigh, Magnus complies. And okay, the cotton is soft, worn smooth and comfortable, he admits as he runs his hands up and down the holey sleeves. The sensation makes him want to… snuggle

“Oh,” Magnus whispers and when he opens his eyes, he finds Alec looking at him in the mirror. 

Alec smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and kisses Magnus’ ear. “Yeah, oh…” he agrees and pulls Magnus tighter to him, his warmth loosening something in the warlock’s chest.

And years later, when the ugly, tattered sweaters are the only thing Magnus has left of Alec, they still feel like his husband’s embrace.

docloudscomeinpurple  asked:

A newspaper article calls Bruce Wayne "Gotham's Dad" and all the batkids think it's sweet except Damian who's kinda territorial about these things like NO HE IS MY FATHER NOT YOURS. Anyway, this whole "Bruce Wayne: Dad of Gotham" thing catches on, but then people start calling him "Daddy". Jason puts on his helmet and says "Be right back. I have to go kinkshame ALL OF GOTHAM"

Damian would be so possessive of Bruce is absolutely ridiculous. Paper’s will be printed calling Bruce ‘Everyone’s Dad’ and you bet your ass that Damian is buying every goddamn paper so people don’t get the idea that other people can just share his dad. He even fights the other batkids who are like legally Bruce’s kids. “Dami, Bruce adopted me like 6 years before you were born.” “HE IS MY FATHER GRAYSON. MINE.”

But the best part is kids in his middle school comment how Bruce Wayne is more of a parent to them than their parents and Damian is like ‘No, my father is mine leave him alone.’ But Damian can’t exactly let these poor sad children not have decent parents. So, ironically enough, he follows in his father’s footsteps and takes these kids in as his own. “You, Madison.” He says gruffly but not unkindly. “You have expressed on multiple occasions that your parents are inadequate, therefore, I will be replacing them. We will now play catch while you tell me of your day.” But of course following Bat tradition it gets out of hand and Damian had about 6 kids who like him. He’s kind of weird and serious, but he’s really nice to 'his’ kids and helps them when they need it. Plus he lets them play with his animals. Damian is quite proud of himself. His brood follows him one day and Dick asks who his lil friend are.

“tt, you’re a fool Grayson, these are my unofficial children who I am nurturing to be fine, young adults.” and Jason in the passenger seat is torn between laughter and horror because dear God it’s genetic. Damian has been informed that none of his kiddies are allowed to be vigilantes and he is so affronted. As if his kids are any less worthy than Bruce’s. And Bruce just can’t even answer that and leaves.

youtube

While this has been said about many things, dear god is this video extremely cursed…

I finally watched ‘Split’ the other day.
James’s acting is INSANE. I know you know that and I already knew that but this role, or I guess 'these roles’, just sell him completely. Watching him snap from one person to another, being a child and then a woman etc, was amazing. I would recommend it to anyone, even if you’re not into horror.

(Also, it’s not scary, it’s classed as 'horror/thriller’, and although there are obviously creepy elements and bad things happen, I felt there were barely any moments that were tense enough to spark that 'oh dear god no’ feeling that proper horrors do)

Creepypasta #1001: My Boyfriend Loves Traveling Third World

Length: Short

One time, we traveled to deep inside of South America’s countryside. You know, kind of rural area where people have cultivators but have no idea from where they get oil for them?

It was a nice town, though. People were so naive and simple, we even have talked about living in country like that after our retirement half seriously.

Our accommodation owner was also a simple old guy with the kindest smile I’ve ever seen. He cooked us meatball and filled our bowl again and again just like my nanny.

After the lunch, his son showed us around the town. It was peaceful little countryside. Corn farm, chicken farm, barley farm, sugar cane-I guess-farm…We understood only half of his chattering since he could only speak Espanol.

For the last course, he showed us a small pig farm next to his house. It looked like some kind of traditional ranching shack. Every house in the town had one next to it. Pigs in the shack was a breed I’ve never seen before. It was dirty, ugly and had weirdly long neck with croaky voice. Face covered with mud looked more like had been cut flat by something than ordinary flat-nose pig.

“That’s one creepy piggy.” I said to myself in English.

At that very moment, a swine ran- it looked more like crawling with elbows and knees- to us.

And it grunted,

“Dear god, can you speak English?”

Credits to: moloque