have a great one

4

“why do you love lance so much?” why do you NOT?! look at him! this boy can light up any room he enters

bonus:

10

One Season Three Gifset Per Character → Hunk

I don’t want to leave the Yellow Lion, okay? I mean it’s big, it’s got this super armor, it’s safe.

10

Okumura Rin ★ | The lil cute Exorcist |
Happy Birthday to my lovely Minnie~ ( @okita-senpai ) ♡(*´∀`*)人(*´∀`*)♡

I want you to want me

“Wait, no, let’s take the other corridor.”

“But that will take so much longer!”

“I don’t care. Come on!”

Draco ignored Pansy’s pouting and dragged her along. What were the teachers thinking, hanging up all these mistletoes around the castle? There were so many, it was so hard to avoid them all. Also, it was only November 17th! Couldn’t they at least have waited until December?

Cursing under his breath, Draco turned to the corridor that was still mistletoe-free. Well, at least it had been this morning.

“Oh, come on,” Draco groaned as he suddenly found himself and Pansy standing beneath a gigantic ladder. Filch was on top of it, fumbling with the fateful plant Draco had come to loathe.

Since he was a child, he had been very superstitious. Ignoring the mistletoe wouldn’t do it. It was bad luck. And Pansy knew this very well, judging from her smug expression. She had been taught the same by her parents, but, unlike Draco, she chose to try her luck. At least she usually did.

“Well, go on,” she said, grinning at him. Exhaling loudly, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled.

“I’m waiting.” Pansy’s grin only widened when Draco huffed and blew his hair out of his face.

“Alright, alright.” He leaned over to her reluctantly, but panicked, when she suddenly closed her eyes. She couldn’t be serious! Dear Merlin! Hastily, he planted his lips on her left cheek and immediately started walking again. There! Surely that would count!

“Hey! Draco,” he heard Pansy call after him. Nope, he would keep walking! He would keep walking and avoid these bloody mistletoes this time! Getting back to the Slytherin common room couldn’t be that impossible!

“… no, I remember you specifically told me- Ouch!”

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Rubbing his nose, Draco glowered at the person he had just collided with. The Weasel. With Granger in tow. Magnificent!

You bumped into me,” Weasley said in an accusing tone.

“Whatever, Weasel! Now get out of my-”

“Oh, mistletoe,” Granger interrupted him, pointing at the ceiling.

You’ve got to be kidding me!

Draco looked up, then back at the other two standing in front of him. Oh, damn it!

“Come on, let’s just go,” Granger said, taking Weasley’s hand.

“We can’t,” he whispered. “We have to kiss.” Granger rolled her eyes at him, but Weasley’s face turned serious. “No, we really have to kiss. It’s bad luck if we don’t.”

Huh. Weasley wasn’t as dumb as he looked after all. With an exasperated sigh, Granger pulled him down and kissed him for much longer than was necessary. When Draco cleared his throat, they finally stopped.

“What, you want one, too?” Weasley asked, arching his eyebrows.

“Well, I was standing under the damn thing, too, wasn’t I?”

Understanding hit Weasley’s face and Draco would have loved to take a step forward and slap him. His dumb face was just so infuriating. Before Draco could do anything, however, Granger shoved her boyfriend and he stumbled forward.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Weasley asked, turning his head.

“Well, obviously, you two are the ones with the superstitions. And I already kissed you, so you can go and kiss him.” The way she said it was so nonchalant, it made Draco gape at ther. Okay, so he definitely didn’t want to kiss her. But did she understand how revolting it would be to kiss the Weasel? Well, of course not. She did it willingly. On a regular basis. Yuck!

When Weasley turned back around to Draco, his face was so pale, Draco thought he might faint.

“Ugh, let’s just get this over with,” Draco murmured.

“No, please, Hermione, no, please don’t make me do this!”

“I’m not making you do anything! You were the one who said you have to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“She’s right,” Draco said through gritted teeth. He closed the gap between them and wrinkled his nose. “Just… hold still.” Draco placed both his hands on Weasley’s shoulders and tried to ignore the way his bottom lip was quivering. His lips looked very chapped.This was going to be worse than he had thought!

If he hadn’t already cheated when he had kissed Pansy on the cheek, Draco would have done the same with Weasley. But he couldn’t cheat fate twice in one day! Ugh!

Just a quick peck. Light. Very light. Lips barely touching. Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad, right? Ugh, if only it weren’t Weasley!

“Merlin, Malfoy, just do it already,” Weasley groaned. Clicking his tongue once, Draco stood up on his toes and gave Weasley the quickest kiss in history of all kisses.

“Ugh! Now excuse me, I need to go wash my mouth,” Draco declared and started hurrying off.

“Ron. Ron? Are you okay? Are you crying? Oh, you’re gagging. Come on, stop it!” Granger’s voice slowly died down behind him as Draco ran down the stairs to the Dungeons. No, wait, he couldn’t walk down that corridor. There were at least three bunches of mistletoe down there. The one on the left had only one. That he knew of. And he’d have to walk through half the castle again. But one was still better than three. Okay then.

As he walked, Draco kept his eyes to the ceiling. He wouldn’t let himself get into another situation like that. Yuck! Weasley! Disgusting! He’d probably never forget it. November 17th, the day he had kissed Ron Weasley. Why? Why??

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and began running when he spied the bunch of mistletoe he had been dreading. Luckily, no one else was in the corridor. Heaving a sigh of relief, Draco slowed down when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching.

“Potter!” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Wandering the corridors all alone?”

Why couldn’t it have been Potter? Why couldn’t he have bumped into him under the mistletoe? This really wasn’t fair! Draco was doing everything, but still he had the worst luck! This was just infuriating! And honestly, it was kind of Potter’s fault he’d had to endure kissing Weasley. If Potter had been with his stupid friends, it might have gone very differently.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of your little trio? Tired of being the third wheel?”

Potter blinked.

“I am, actually.”

“Oh.”

This was no fun when Potter was being honest.

“What about you? You look a bit ill. Are you okay?”

Draco tried very hard not to think about his lips touching Weasley’s. This would probably haunt him for a very long time. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

“How sweet. Nice to know the Saviour cares.”

Potter was about to respond, when his gaze fell to the ground.

“What’s that?”

Draco followed Potter’s gaze and almost choked. Was that mistletoe? Growing, actually growing out of the cobblestone while they were standing there? But mistletoe usually grew on trees!

“You can’t be serious,” Draco muttered. This was insane. But… he was with Potter. This would be the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss without having to reveal his feelings for the stupid git. “Ugh, can this day get any worse?” Draco moaned. Yes, yes, act like this is the worst thing that could have happened right now! He watched as Potter slowly examined the plant.

“Is that…”

“Yeah,” Draco said, trying to sound as displeased as possible.

“Oh.”

There was a brief silence, in which they both avoided the other’s eyes.

“Well, since we’re not exactly standing under it… Let’s just ignore it,” Potter babbled. Draco’s heart fell. This was his opportunity! Why was Potter being so difficult?

“We can’t just ignore it. It’s bad luck,” he mumbled. He felt so stupid. Potter was probably seeing right through him. From the corner of his eyes he saw the Gryffindor shuffling his feet, while his eyes were still glued to the ground.

“That’s just some stupid superstition, isn’t it?” Potter said with an arched brow.

“It’s not,” Draco insisted. “People… people have died after ignoring it.” It was utter bollocks. And Potter probably knew it. Draco considered just walking away. Potter was right, they weren’t standing under the mistletoe, so the rules probably didn’t apply here.

“Oh.” Potter paused while Draco suppressed the urge to kick the mistletoe.  “Well, if it’s that serious… we better not risk it.”

Draco’s head snapped up. What? Had Potter just… What?

Keep reading

theatre songs that could resurrect me

• the bitch of living

• ring of keys

• blackout

• schuyler sisters

• la vie boheme

• bad idea

• defying gravity

• tomorrow is a latter day

• king of new york

• this world will remember us

• no one else

• one day more

• into the woods prologue

• all that jazz

• gimme gimme

• naughty

2

Keith and Shiro decide to go to the beach. During the day, Keith gets a spider-man popsicle (because is nerd af) with temporary tattoos in it. Shiro suggests to use them, he loves his boyfriend so much.

Write-O-Ween Prompts: Unusual and Rare Words Edition

As practice for the famous NANOWRIMO, a prompts list of unusual and rare words! I’ll try writing them: will you?

  1. Uncanny: strange or mysterious, especially in an unsettling way
  2. Chimerical: merely imaginary; fanciful
  3. Susurrus: a whispering or rustling sound
  4. Aubade: a song greeting the dawn
  5. Ephemeral: lasting a very short time
  6. Sempiternal: everlasting; eternal
  7. Euphonious: pleasing; sweet in sound
  8. Billet-doux: a love letter
  9. Pluviophile: any organism that thrives in conditions of heavy rainfall; one who loves rain, a rain-lover
  10. Redamancy: act of loving in return
  11. Lachesism: the desire to be struck by disaster; to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire
  12. Rubatosis: the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat
  13. Nodus Tollens: the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore
  14. Opia: the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable
  15. Monachopsis: the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place
  16. Énouement: the bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self
  17. Skulduggery: devious behavior
  18. Tatterdemalion: raggedly dressed person; looking disreputable or decayed
  19. Athazagoraphobia: the feeling of being forgotten, ignored, or replaced
  20. Oblivion: the state of being completely forgotten or unknown; connotes feelings of isolation and aloofness, which lead to the annihilation or extinction of the self metaphorically
  21. Abditory:  a hiding, safe place to disappear 
  22. Hiraeth: the homesickness for a home you can never return to; a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
  23. Fernweh: the ache for distant places; the craving for travel
  24. Sonder: the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own
  25. Kenopsia: the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet
  26. Kuebiko: a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence
  27. Quiddity: the essence or inherent nature of a person or thing / an eccentricity; an odd feature / a trifle; a nicety or quibble
  28. Wayfarer: a traveler, especially on foot
  29. Nepenthe: a medicine for sorrow; a place, person or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering
  30. Gloaming: defined as twilight and dusk; the day’s end, the glittery, transient echo when time and nature meet
  31. Eunoia: literally meaning “beautiful thinking” / FREE SPACE

(long post, sorry)

In spite of everything I love Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it does not work like that.  Second, she’s not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11” of pure muscle and is not top heavy)

If you want a good Harley backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look like self-harm or is well covered up. 

When Arkham accepts her, fresh from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru. The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.

After her weekend of freedom she would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous, cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it. She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it when he likes things.

It’s wrong and unprofessional, the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to protect and nurture something so important to him.

When the choice comes between her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question. She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a bun.