i don't even know what he is supposed to be

The Party part 12/?

L: Oh yeah? I WILL enjoy the rest of the party!!!

L: ugh, stupid Keith, I run all over for like an hour looking for him and this is how he thanks me, Unbelievable 

L: that thing on his face look painful though, how the hell did he manage to get a burn like that? I hope he knows where the burn cream is….

L: Although, even if he did know where it was, it would be hard to bandage an injury like that on your own.

L: (don’t chase after him don’t chase after him don’t chase….)

L: dammit

L: The hell? How’d he manage to get that far, he must of bolted.

Scorpius knows exactly who Albus is when they meet in the train carriage. He’s known for years that Harry Potter had a son his age who would probably be in his class at school. He knows that that kid is called Al. He’s seen pictures of him in the paper, of course he has.

Scorpius doesn’t even dare to dream of becoming friends with Harry Potter’s son. He imagines going to Hogwarts and having friends like Harry did, but he doesn’t think for a second that Al would give him any attention. Al is a Potter, and Scorpius is a Malfoy. Gryffindor and Slytherin, most likely, they’ll never even interact.

And then Scorpius is on the Hogwarts express and he hears the carriage door open, and he sees that stunningly familiar Potter face. The green eyes and messy black hair, and his heart stops for a second and he doesn’t know what to do. And Al has no idea who he is, clearly, because he asks to come in. So Scorpius goes out of his way to give Al every opportunity to leave, but he doesn’t. He stays. And he stays. And he stays.

And Scorpius pretends he’s just any other person. Asks what he wants to be called (Albus), offers him sweets, talks to him about Rose. Albus says he’s staying for Scorpius’s sweets, not for him, but still Scorpius has never been happier, and then Albus laughs at the steam coming from his ears as he eats Pepper Imps, and by the end of the train ride they’ve become friends.

That night when they’re lying in beds next to each other in the Slytherin dorm Scorpius can still hardly comprehend it. He’s living in a dream. Not even a dream, because he didn’t dare dream this. This is pure and utter fantasy, the wildest possible reality, and it’s his reality.

Albus Severus Potter is his friend.


ladies and gentleman, jaehee ‘i’m not gay’ kang


I just noticed it was supposed to be a dress with the cat stocking but yknow ? Shorts are great too

Also don’t worry about it !! I don’t believe in gendered clothing ; then again, i’m not exactly japanese, so i can’t tell if that’s disrespectful or not (i don’t believe so ?? i mean i wouldn’t be surprised if my drawing of the kimono was wrong in the first place…)

What i can do however is draw Izuru in a french cancan dress next time, or a flamenco one, your pick

carry on, darling, we were built to last

Watching the gold medal, the same one as the other five in Victor’s trophy case, being hanged around his fiancé’s neck was not actually as bitter a feeling as many supposed it would be. Victor was happy. He placed second, but he was so happy… happier than any gold could make him.

After two years of training together, after a year he spent cheering on Yuuri from the sidelines and a year he motivated him from the ice as his fellow competitor, Victor could honestly say Yuuri deserved that gold. He’d worked so hard to achieve the highest place on the podium, towering over the other skaters, that when Victor looked up to the side he couldn’t imagine a better way to end this season.

Yuuri noticed him and smiled a tad apologetically.

“Sorry, I took the gold,” he said, almost as if he thought it was rightfully Victor’s. What a silly boy.

“Yuuri,” Victor shook his head with a smile, stepping up onto Yuuri’s podium and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You did your best and you got a medal to show for it. Don’t make me angry.”

He said it teasingly and by the little embarrassed laughter he knew Yuuri caught onto it. Camera flashes sparkled all around them constantly while they held up their medals. A stray thought, one that he didn’t have for a very long time popped into his head.

He always used to kiss his medals.

And didn’t he promise Yuuri to kiss his medal at last year’s GPF? There was something like that, wasn’t there?

Victor grinned to himself. He dropped his silver and reached out to take Yuuri’s gold. It was already warm from the heat of Yuuri’s hand. Blinking furiously, camera’s focused on what Victor was doing and he knew that soon the whole world would be talking about it, but… he didn’t care. He wanted them to know that Yuuri was his in every single way.

So he pulled the medal up to his lips, giving it a small kiss, while flashes went off from every direction making spots of white dance across his vision. Yuuri seemed to have remembered their promise, because his eyes brightened and he smiled at Victor a little incredulously, but overwhelmingly warm and–

How could Victor have held himself back?

He let go of the medal and leaned down, tilting his head away from the cameras for just an ounce of privacy. His lips pressed against Yuuri’s, sweet and slow, and grateful more than anything. Because it was Yuuri who showed Victor how colourful and warm the world could be, it was Yuuri who made him believe in happiness and bright future, it was Yuuri who beat his ass on the ice fair and square, finally, after all these years of loneliness…

“Congratulations, Yuuri,” he whispered against slightly trembling lips before he pulled back.

Yuuri’s cheeks were flushed, so beautiful in the sharp lights directed at the podium, but he wasn’t shy. He looked straight at Victor, with his eyes direct and warm. His lips were quirked in a tiny exasperated manner that Victor had come to associate with Yuuri calling out his name in that cute, meltingly adorable way.

“You’re horrible, you know that,” Yuuri said, but his voice was light. “Now the press just won’t leave us alone.”

Victor only shrugged a careless shoulder, pulling Yuuri closer to his side and smiling at the flashing cameras.

“It was going to happen sooner or later,” he replied. “And I actually quite like the idea of everyone knowing you’re mine and I’m yours. It’s a little exciting, isn’t it?”

He glanced down at Yuuri, who was busy making a peace sign at one camera. A little was an understatement. Victor was always excited when Yuuri was concerned. Ever since Yuuri swept him off his feet, quite literally, at that unforgettable GPF in Sochi.

When Yuuri turned his head back to him, his smile a bit nasty – oh, how Victor loved that smile ­– Victor didn’t expect these words to fall from his mouth.

“You’re dealing with it, then,” he said. “I have another season to prepare for, coach.”

And he hopped off the podium, leaving Victor alone and shocked and pleased beyond reasoning, because Yuuri was always going to keep him on his toes and he just couldn’t wait for what the future will bring.

Just a doodle imagining if Arthur was the one to patch up Merlin instead of the other way around :D Because you know Arthur would yell and bitch because he yells at Merlin enough about trying to stay out of trouble. And Merlin can’t yell back like he wants to about how much more danger Arthur was in - because that would involve a much more yelly conversation!

And Gaius? He gives them both the Eyebrow and leaves in an ‘I-told-you-so’ huff lol!

(More Merlin Art lives here)


Where do I begin with this. How am I suppose to sleep now?! The working out and the grunting he was making while being miked up. Fuck. We also see Sebastian going through many stages when they started asking about Infinity War. Surprised and confused. I think confused Sebastian is my favorite. I decided that sleep just isn’t going to happen tonight. I need to go lie down and take a cold shower. Goodbye. 😰🔥


Chiyoda, Minato, Ikebukuro, Shinjuku, Shibuya…

He’s been stationed in Tokyo for a couple of weeks now, and still had no clue what he was supposed to be doing. The general idea was to ‘gather information’, but surely there were people better suited for the task. Those from around here, for one. It was the capital, after all — a considerable amount of manpower must be concentrated here.

He spent most of his time talking with information brokers and rumormongers alike, but without much success. The reports contradicted one another, and none checked out in the end. A lot of intelligence varied from district to district. It was chaos, in the loosest sense of the word, where no one seemed to understand what was going on.

And now he found himself in Yongenjaya, in front of some coffee shop. He’d been standing here for a while, contemplating whether he should enter. The place looked cozy, one of those spots that didn’t necessarily have heavy traffic, but instead a group of dedicated regulars.

Therein laid the problem. Among familiar customers he — with his hair and the sword bag on his back — would draw attention instantly. This was nothing new, but usually people soon forgot about him in their daily rush. Here, however… Here he may be talked about for some time after.

Still, his legs were starting to ache after a full day of walking. He could probably get a seat somewhere in the corner. With luck, his unfamiliarity would deter any curious patrons.

Finally slowly nodding to himself, he came up to the building, pushed the door open, and came inside. After scanning the interior and finding a suitable place, he wasted no time getting comfortable; resting the sword bag on his knees and pulling out his laptop.

Tsukinami Carla (1)

Shit short as shit and shitty as shit but shit cares. 

By me and @liasviel (she doesn’t know but shh)

- What is this supposed to mean?

He looked at her, his face not showing any emotions, as usually.

- I-it’s… - she stuttered, looking down at her hand. Her fingers were slightly burned and there was a small cut on the middle finger. - I-it’s nothing, nothing s-serious…

- You’re incredibly clumsy - he muttered, crossing his arms. - You have to clean and patch it up - he said and she looked up at him, but he still looked as if he actually didn’t care. 

She sighed quietly, disappointed.

- I-it’s nothing important, s-sir… - She bowed, trying to sound naturally.

His eyebrow twitched.

- I don’t want to see any scars on your hands. Go and do what I said.

She lowered your head even more, shivering at his harsh voice.

- Y-yes, sir! - She turned around and quickly walked away, not wanting to see his angry face. She held back tears, too proud to let them fall. Even if he didn’t care, she wouldn’t show that she did. She wouldn’t also say that she hurt herself while trying to improve her cooking skills since she enjoyed so much his pleased expression when he ate what she made.

- Nii-san? - sexy voice echoed in the living room (insert Revi’s fangirling) - Why did you say that…? It’s not like it matters… - he yawned.

Carla narrowed his eyes a bit, glancing at him briefly. Just before he walked away, he said:

- Only the King can make scars on his Queen’s body.

having an age gap between you and nathan definitely wouldn’t be easy. even though he had already graduated he spent so much time on campus because of practice and usually ended up grabbing food there in between swims. which is how you met him. you were a freshman still getting used to the whole college thing and he had finished his last year nearly three years prior. when he first approached you, he made you smile and feel a sort of glee you hadn’t in awhile. afterwards you found yourself with his number written in boyish handwriting on a university napkin. you could tell he was older due to his stature but you had thought fourth year at most. after making plans to hang out and getting to know each other you found out how exactly old he was. more than five years older which was usually how far you were willing to go and you tried to push nathan out of your thoughts, because you were afraid of what others would think. you still continued to spend time with him between practice, meets, your busy class schedule and homework load but told yourself it was just as friends. it wasn’t until he kissed you on top of the school’s swimming pool stands that you felt a bit dizzy. you asked him his thoughts on the age gap and he admitted that it was strange at first, but there was no way he could deny how hard his heart raced when he saw you. you agreed and thus began to date. it was hard at first because you felt as though you couldn’t really connect with his friends, there wasn’t much in common when it came to experiences just because you hadn’t had much of your own yet. going to a bar was totally out of the question, you weren’t old enough which kept you from going out with nathan sometimes. it was tough working around your schedule because you had to study in your free time while nathan wanted to be with you in his. both sets of parents (his and yours) continually disagreed with both of you dating, saying that the gap was much too large. when you saw or heard about nathan being linked to a girl his own age in anyway, you immediately felt your heartbreak because you felt it would be much easier for him to be with someone closer in age. but the nights when it was just you two, laying on his couch your head against his chest you knew it was worth it. all of the difficulties and criticism seemed so small compared to how you both felt about each other. being older he would tell you about things you had yet to experience, warn you about crazy professors, help with studying, he’d laugh about how you made him feel young and good looking since someone like you had ended up with an “old man.” Regardless of what anyone said you knew he was a mature, stable figure that would always be there to hold you when you needed it. 

Coulson: Doctor Banner, Mr. Stark … you were supposed to be making cupcakes. Remember?

Bruce: [looks down at the small robot chirping happily in his hands] Um … we made an assistant baker? [smiles down at it] He’s very good at fetching and bringing ingredients, as long as they’re small, like him.

Tony: [grins at Bruce and the robot] Chill, Agent Double-Oh-Not-Dead. [dismissive wave] We named him Cupcake, so technically, we made a cupcake.

Coulson: [calmly] Are you going to let the judges taste your cupcake?

Bruce: [eyes flash green as Cupcake chirps in recognition of his name]

Tony: [smirks] They can try?

Coulson: [sighs]





Clint: They look pretty.

Natasha: [nods] Very pretty.

Coulson: Can they be eaten?

Clint: [grins widely] Maybe!

Natasha: [shrugs] Maybe not.

Clint: [still grinning] They might blow up.



Steve: [earnestly] Thor, please, I don’t understand what I did. [pulls one of his apple pie vanilla cupcakes from the counter] Here, try this, maybe it’ll make you feel better?

Thor: [continues to stare at the mixer forlornly]

Steve: [looks ready to cry] What did I do?

Coulson: [pats his shoulder] It’s a Loki thing.

Thor: [sniffles]


Sam: I promise, it’s not poisoned.

Judge 1: [nods toward the stoic Bucky] Then why is he staring at us like that?

Sam: He’s … waiting for you to … try them?

Judge 2: Becaose zey ahr poisined.

Sam: No, they’re not p-

Judge 3: You want us to die.

Sam: [looks at Bucky] Dude, turn around or something.


Coulson: [sighs]


Fury: Motherfucking cupcakes. How did they manage to screw up motherfucking cupcakes?

Coulson: They are who they are, sir.

Fury: Cupcakes, Coulson!

Coulson: [holds out Steve’s apple pie vanilla cupcake] The Captain’s are good.

Fury: [takes one] Get them the fuck back to the Tower. [munches the cupcake] Fuck.

A little drabble inspired by @infinite-atmosphere‘s cute wittle mcHanzo comic. I hope this is adequate..

His voice is roughened with age and cigar smoke. His grin has lost its exuberant and carefree shine, more crooked and absent-minded, as if an after thought, an old habit that never quite fades. More metal than skin shows and the crinkles around his eyes are heavy with unspoken burdens. 

Hanzo supposes he is the one being childish this time, wanting to reach out and tug at that fluttering serape, to demand if McCree still remembers him. Alas, it is not to be.

He finds himself distracted sometimes, watching the cowman strides around confidently in his ridiculous getup, greeting anyone and everyone, even the enemies, with that crooked smile of his. It gives Hanzo this twinge in his heart, a pulling that is both melancholic and stings a little.

Neither of them owes the other anything, it is foolish of him for having such thoughts. His chances have long passed, it is unreasonable to want them, to want McCree back again.

But then, Hanzo can’t help the tiny jolts whenever McCree tips his hat at him, at every wayward smile, a friendly bump on the shoulder. They are all too little, and yet too much. He finds himself thinking too hard at night, when the world is quite and his only companion is his perfect memory. It is both a blessing and a curse, because then the mind would let him see what reality does not.

They both have changed, but that fleeting feeling of longing, gentle like a fallen petal yet constricts his guarded heart too tightly, refuses to go away.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?”

His reverie is shattered, not violent like broken glass, but soft as dry leaves crunching under one’s steps in the autumn sun, at the feeling of metal finger brushing his cheek. Hanzo shrugs it off, face betrays no emotion even when his pulse quickens.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

There is a pressure on his chest, a coiling at the very pit of his stomach when broad shoulder meets his, arms aligning with each other. The back of McCree’s metal hand brushes his own and, somewhere, a knot eases when the gentle wind carries the familiar scent of gunpowder and cigar, enveloping him in a warmth that isn’t his own. Brown eyes fall upon his, and the smile, crooked with just a hint of something else, melts away the grasp around his guarded heart.

“Aye, it is.”

After hooking up with Ian for the first time, Mickey starts to pay more attention to Mandy when she rants about boys but she doesn’t talk about Ian nearly enough to make it worth his while (he listens anyway, just in case). He comes home early when he knows Ian’s supposed to come over to hang out with Mandy, or he stays at home when he knows Ian’s coming. Mandy thinks he does it to piss her off but it’s really just an excuse to hang out with Ian without it being strictly about sex.

And Mandy complains about Mickey crashing their fun, but Ian kind of likes it because it’s the closest he thinks he’ll ever get to hanging out with the guy he likes. He tries not to get his hopes up that maybe Mickey likes him too, just a little, but it’s hard when Mandy points out how weird it is for Mickey to spend so much time at home and it’s hard when he finds out that Mickey not only stopped robbing the store, he stopped even showing up unless it’s Ian’s shift and he’s working alone.

That’s when he starts trying to talk to Mickey more, at the store before they hook up or in the living room at the Milkovich house when Mandy gets up to go to the bathroom. It’s always safe topics, and Mickey almost always brushes it off but he doesn’t walk away so Ian counts it as a victory anyway. He shows up at the Milkovich house sometimes under the pretense of hanging out with Mandy, but she’s out and Mickey’s pretty sure Ian probably knows that but he pretends not to notice and he gives in way too easily to the lame excuses Ian makes to stay and wait for her (he always has an excuse to leave before she gets home because he doesn’t want her to notice the really obvious crush he has on her brother).

Being around Mickey just makes Ian feel light, like a teenager maybe-kind-of-in-love for the first time. He likes having sex with him, sure, but he also gets butterflies whenever he sees him and his breath kind of hitches when Mandy mentions him, even if it’s just to complain about him leaving the toilet seat up or drinking the last of the juice. When they’re together, even if it’s just Mickey sitting in the same room pretending to want to watch TV when Ian and Mandy are doing their homework, the rest of the world seems to fade away and it’s like a weight is lifted from Ian’s shoulders.

So when Monica comes back, the only thought in Ian’s head is that he needs to see Mickey, needs to feel him, needs to just be near him. Mickey doesn’t really get it, why he’d be the one Ian turns to when he’s so clearly vulnerable and hurting, but he thinks it’s nice for someone to need him, just him and not his fists or his reputation. He tells himself he’s only going to meet Ian because it’s a chance for them to have sex, but his chest has been aching where his heart’s supposed to be since Ian told him he didn’t know where else to go and he knows he’s letting this go too far, he’s getting too close and it’s the best but stupidest thing he’s ever done.

He still lets Ian grip his hand in the freezer, still flaunts it in Kash’s face when he realizes the creep was actually jealous when he caught them fucking. It makes him feel powerful in a way guns never could, to have someone be jealous of something he has. Says he likes ‘em sweet, because he’s never had anything satisfy his sweet tooth the way Ian does. His smile and his kindness and the way he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to give a shit, just gets under his skin and while he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks maybe it’s okay just this once. No one else is around to hear it and he wants Kash to know that he knows he was fooling around with Ian, but he’s not anymore because he likes Mickey, he chose Mickey.

His cockiness gets him shot in the leg, like the universe is trying to remind him all the reasons why Ian was such a bad idea in the first place. But the moment Ian’s by his side, checking to make sure he’s okay, he can’t think of a single one.

That Southern Gothic Magic

There are so many things I should be doing right now. Instead, I wrote a stupid fucking fic about the otp and a stupid fucking live oak tree. 3000 words, and I’m not even sure what just happened. Enjoy.
Update: lowkey edited, but not really

Really, why couldn’t he have left her tree alone? It wasn’t hurting him; it wasn’t hurting anyone. The old oak had just sat there looking pretty and gothic, like something out of the books she liked to read curled up in the hammock she’d hung from its spreading boughs. Sure, some of the limbs stretched their way over his property, and maybe a root or two poked its way up into his pretty gardens, but it was only doing its best – just like the rest of them. Even Soul “Tree Hater” Evans had to appreciate the shade it cast on those killer summer days. 

But nooo, mister bad-hair-dye-and-cheap-ass-contacts couldn’t leave well enough alone, of course not. He’d whined and complained and bitched for months that the “damn tree” kept “dropping its filthy spanish moss all over his lily garden.” Bees lived in that shit, didn’t she know? 

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Laundry Day | M.C.

A/N: I don’t know what this is, it’s probably awful, I don’t write smut, but you know, this just kinda happened. It was supposed to be cute and stuff, but this happened. It’s lazy, and cute, and mildly fluffy. Anyway, here you go.

nsfw, read at your own discretion

Every morning with Michael was different. Sometimes he was awake before you, downstairs and trying to make breakfast before you could even get out of bed, but this was a rare occasion. Sometimes, he struggled to get out of bed, refusing to release the death grip he had on your pillow, his green eyes hidden from sight as he slept the day away. And then there were mornings like this one. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear. His arms move tightly around your waist, holding you tightly to him as you stand in front of the dryer, just folding the laundry. Michael nuzzles his face into your neck, a soft and satisfied sigh escaping him. You could just feel the stubble on his cheeks, evident from days of not shaving.

“Good morning, baby,” you reply, a giggle leaving your lips mid sentence as Michael blows a raspberry onto your collarbone. The neatly folded shirt you held in your hands drops to the floor, a crumpled mess once more. You had to move to get away from your playful boyfriend, but being trapped in his arms meant there was nowhere to go. “Let me go!” You scream through laughs as Michael continues on.

He finally stops after he decides he’s had his fill of teasing you for the next ten minutes. You turn in his arms, catching your breath. Michael couldn’t help himself as he lifts you onto the dryer and stands between your thighs. “How’s my girl?” He asks, a content smile on his face as he looks up at you. You rest your hands on his shoulders, leaning forward to touch your forehead to his.  

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Soo this happened XD Happy (early) Halloween from Herald!

The idea to make this popped out of nowhere last month literally on the day of the super blood moon.
I’d seen THIS post pop up on my dash again the week or so before and when the idea popped up I couldn’t ignore it XD I thought it was too hilarious not to! (My way of doing a sort of fanart since I don’t draw much anymore)

I finished him within a week too, probably the fastest I’ve ever completed something for the fun of it. It worked out perfectly though since you know Halloween and all :p
I really want to redo the kigurumi though, I ran out of free time to work on it.

@spaggel thank you for making that ridiculously hilarious post (and creating Herald!) because it makes me laugh way too much every time I see it XD and without it, I never would have come up with this ridiculous plushie!

I have a feeling Halloween would be Heralds favorite holiday and I can only image how terrifying it would be (or rather how terrified everyone would be of It)