i drew this one on classes

jilldrawblog  asked:

I love your art style so much! For the school request: could you please draw Rafe, Flynn & Eddy trying to show off in gym class and failing miserably? :D

↓ Ideal

↓ Reality

Umm I think about this request, but it was just vague.
so I drew a few arts. I wanted to draw at one art but.

Every sport, they will surely be fairly interesting and will make a big mistake. lol
It was too hard for me to select a sport that they playing. lol

Thank you for your request!

2

I was bored in class, so I drew my friend Danya and Jace in the Quest AU :3
———
In the AU, they both work at “Swing Angel’s Diner”
Well Danya is the owner and Jace works as a waitress! That’s basically it XD
———
Oh and that one doodle that says “After the Blast” ? I just thought it’d be funny if the place where Cuphead started shooting at Bendy and Boris was at “Swing Angel’s” XD
———
AU belongs to @blogthegreatrouge / @thebbros

Can you believe that I have to wake up in 4 hours for class but instead of sleeping I’m here doing Armageddidn’t fanart ?

Also I can’t remember if Crowley had an iron tire or a crowbar I might have fucked up

I can never decide which one of them I love the most, so I drew them both cause they’re inseparable anyway.

Divine

I followed all the rules, when I came here the first time. Listened to all of the stories, the tips, believed all of the warnings and the worries. Watched some classmates disappear, sometimes covered with excuses of transfers, sometimes not, watched suspiciously or with awed eyes to those who were suspected to be other.

But I never saw a single thing. I never saw the creatures late in the library, I never heard things scratching on my windows, and I never felt eyes on the back of my neck walking home in all the dark, clutching iron nails in my jacket pockets.
I’m from the South, you see, and down there we don’t have this Fae nonsense. There’s no flimsy fairy circle to be warned about, no rock in the middle of the road; sure, I’d read the fables, but that’s all they were to me. Fables.

I believed in something different. That’s all it came down to; belief. 
So when I brought the shrine with me, and gave it its own shelf, I shouldn’t’ve been surprised that everything left me alone for the first year. I shouldn’t’ve been surprised that, as I was deaf to my gods, so was I blind to the Fae. (You learn to listen in other ways.)

It was only that first summer, when I wore something other than a t-shirt for the first time, and my ankh tattoo finally was blessed by the sun for the first time, and my friend flinched away from me when I turned to talk to someone, it was only then that I started to take note.
I couldn’t see them - of course, this will come as no surprise - I couldn’t see them, I couldn’t hear or touch them, not like some of my friends swore they could, but.
When I was holding that ankh necklace, when I was wearing that tattoo, when I was believing, they could tell. I learned which days to wear the necklace over my shirts, and which days to hide it under the binder.

It wasn’t until two years later, when I painted gold onto my eyelids, that I could see for the first time.
But that’s getting ahead of myself. I had two years of knowing nothing; of seeing friends Taken and gone, of some of them coming back, of wondering what it was that I wasn’t seeing, and wondering when my belief wasn’t going to hold me safe anymore.
I brought my cat up to campus, in one of the apartments nearby (did the campus own these? were they just affiliated with it? I’m still not sure, to this day) and then when I set up my shrine, certain friends stopped coming in without permission. My cat followed me about the small space, over and over again, waited for me by the door every single day, and purred on my lap for hours. (It wasn’t until years later that I would call him a “familiar” for the first time.)

The next year was rough. I still never saw a thing; I made friends, I joined clubs, I branched out to new places and new people and new classes, I drew fantastical things in my sketchbook, I wondered and wondered whether the softest tone of a bell I heard in one class was something Other, I wondered and wondered whether the thunderclap that we all heard one day with clear sky was something Other, and yet I never knew anything for sure.

I stopped carrying iron, stopped wasting my ramen packets (that stuff is so, so bland without it, so I savored every possibly last bite I got) stuffing them in pockets, stopped wondering. I stopped looking at certain students with awe and wonder, stopped darting glances over my shoulder late at night, stopped pretending to have seen something my classmates had. I had followed all the rules; done everything right; and never seen a thing. I had friends who would swear up and down and around the mountain that they were real, that the Gentry (their word, never mine), had done this or that, that they had seen something or other, but never me. It was a quaint university, that was for sure, but was it really magical?

And then I saw her. She was the first person to ever seem More, to me, the first person to shine in my eyes like she had some kind of luck brimming in her smile, the first person to freeze me solid with her laugh (oh, there were others, who sent shivers all up and down my spine in the best ways, but this one, this one was different somehow) and the first person to touch the fox tail I’d worn for years with wonder, and not disgust or barely-hidden half-curiosity half-abhorrence. 

I bribed her with gummy sharks, all the while thinking about the fables - for, to me, they were truly only fables - of eating food in the Fae world, of being stuck there forever. All the while wondering breathlessly about the idea that maybe, for the first time, I was Seeing.

I met her again on the lawn, looking for someone else, and I sat and found that she, too, drew fantastical things and creatures without name. I found that she wore no shoes, and when she laughed I wanted to listen to the sound forever. And when her eyes glittered just so, then I wanted to drown in their blue.

I bribed her with gummy sharks, and dances, and honesty; the greatest gift that one could give on this campus, I had learned, and I’d honed mine to a brutal point.
And, eventually, when I tangled my fingers finally in that curly ocean of teal, dyed colors and colors that I did not know could come in a tube or a on a brush, I felt like magic for a moment.

It wasn’t until she flinched at the first mirror that I started to suspect anything, for real. It wasn’t until then that my heart knew, and my mouth started speaking with that brutal honesty it was so good at. It wasn’t until then that something in my gut changed, something in my heart stirred, and something in my hearing clicked.
I heard padding footsteps on the path behind me, that night, felt something curling in the mist around me, that night, as I walked away from her dorm.

I still didn’t believe it. Not really, not truly; but I did clutch to my necklace when I walked away, a little too fast, and I did relax in my car, sheathed in metal, a little too much. 

She changed me.

And when I told her my stories, her eyes lit up, and when she told me her worlds, I listened with rapter attention than I had paid anyone here, shivers dancing on my spine and gooseflesh on my arms (no feathers; I was embarrassed to admit even to myself that I had checked, later, in the bathroom, alone with my cat.) and something shivering new in my heart.
And when she looked at me, I felt like I had become the center of every vision on earth; and when she laughed for me, the feelings that swelled in my heart swelled without name; and when I kissed her, I thought that it was nothing more than what it was; smiles and flattery and - daresay - love.

But then the meat in the dining hall tasted a little bit different that night. But then the salt burned my tongue a little more than it should - how should salt burn your tongue, anyways? How do you describe what should and shouldn’t taste, how things changed just enough to notice them but only once, because pineapple and oranges taste so good, how had I never tried those before?

I’m getting away from myself again. It’s easy; easy to get lost. Maybe that’s what they mean by Taken, sometimes. Maybe that’s why english majors and storytellers and musicians are the most oft to come back.

Anyways. It entered my life in bursts, leaps and bounds, fits and starts: the half feral cats purred at my touch, the crows regarded me with careful eyes, the rain kissed my lips and dusted my eyelashes like gems. The music spoke back to me, random patterns finding less random and more sass; the tarot deck she would push into my hands would speak louder, eventually.

She called me beautiful; and I had no words to reply. She called me divine, and my heart sung out in response so loud and so unerringly that I could not say no, and within a month I had inked it into my skin.

The artist gave me rose quartz to hold, told me that there is no divinity without pain, and the sigils on my arms burned like fire the first time I stepped foot back on campus.
But that was alright.
Because I could hear them now, because I met the fox eyes and lightly glowing gazes with my own raised high, with a proudness that had infected me, somewhere, when someone a little less human and a little too magic had told me I’ll have enough confidence for the both of us, and at the end of that winter everything had changed.

I mean that mundanely, of course. I couldn’t See anything yet, but new scars stretched across my chest and suddenly, shirtlessness was possible, and suddenly, my tattoos meant something more, and suddenly, I was myself and there was no other way to be.
I convinced her she was Fae at some point, over that break, too. With whispered words beneath blue fairy lights, and the snow trapping us alone, with my heart beating so much closer to the outside world than it had been, wrapped in a form that wasn’t quite mine, we spun tales at one another until she was half joking to worship me, and I was half joking to change my piercings out for less iron ones.

The joke stopped the day I painted gold onto my eyelids. With her supervision, and my nervousness - just a little bit of makeup - just a little bit of makeup - we surrounded my eyes in gold and she smiled, by my gods did she smile, and my heart felt so radiant I could not want for anything else in that moment.

And then I left her dorm to trek my way home, to my cat, and my lights, and my bed - sorrowfully empty - and when I raised my head to meet the eyes of another student, I had to look twice as high as I ever had before.

As it turns out, the Fae have an agreement - this Court with others, that Court with some, ancient beings with ancient beings, and - for me at least, far be it for me to speak for others - occasionally, the child of the divine.
All it takes is belief - belief in the Fae, belief in the rumors, belief in the iron around your fingers and the salt in your pockets - belief in what will and will not work, belief in the world around you and the one that you cannot see - and belief in your own kind of magic.

I believed hard enough in the divine touching me - and, maybe, roped a child of the Fae into speaking it into truth - that maybe they did.
And now I never leave the house with my eyes unburdened by gold, without my fingers wrapped in a carefully picked pattern of gold and iron rings, without the glitter of divinity speckling my skin, without the pride in myself decorating my features, inspired by someone who won’t use her roommates’ iron cutlery anymore.

[x]

2

“Ew.” Sombra’s smile, for lack of better wording, was abso-fucking-lutely shit-eating when Jesse finally bothered looking her way. She sneered slightly when she was leveled with a rather pointed look, hands settling on her hips as she jerked her head towards the man through the window, tongue sharp. “Not only is he super out of your league he’s your best friend’s brother, you creep.”


drew some sweet college au like i said i would. sombra convinced her adoptive bro, jesse, to go to one of her dance classes because it’d be ‘an experience’ and help them ‘bond’- she really just wanted to see him struggle and maybe fall on his ass once or twice -along with let him meet his best friends bro who just so happens to be top dancer in her class.

im probably going to write a fic eventually abt this and yes hanzo is wearing a binder and very much trans you fucks can pry trans hanzo from my cold dead hands i swear

ilvermorny / remus lupin

Anonymous said: Can I have a one shot where you’re from Ilivermorny or whatever and you transfer to Hogwarts and James (or Remus) is asked to escort you to your classes and such until you get used to it oml Im in love with this idea😍😍😍   

the gif tho. fUCK

word count// 1,353


Originally posted by pleasingpics

Dumbledore’s office was quite intriguing. Tall shelves of books stretched to the ceiling and the quirky gadgets that scattered the room sparked your interest. Your fingers ran along the columns as you ascended the few stairs that led up to his desk, admiring and soaking in each detail. As you drew near the polished desk, your eyes met those behind a set of half-moon spectacles belonging to a long bearded man. His eyes were gentle and amused and you suddenly felt embarrassed for gawking at everything.

“Your office is sweet,” You exclaimed excitedly and your fingers itched to run along the spines of the hundreds of books.

The headmaster chortled gleefully and appeared puzzled. “I hadn’t a clue an office could be sweet, but I’m delighted you think so!”

You giggled and shook your head, forgetting you weren’t in America any longer. “No, sir. In America, people use the word sweet to describe something that’s cool or really nice.”

He ‘ah’ed’ and nodded in understanding, his eyes squinting as he smiled. “Y/F/N, the transfer student from Ilvermorny. We’ve been expecting you for awhile,” He informed and held a yellow candy out towards her. “Lemon drop?”

Brows furrowed, you accepted the candy and smiled at the peculiar man. You slid the lemon drop into your mouth and shifted awkwardly, waiting for him to continue and unsure of what to say. 

“Since you’ve no idea of your way around, I have spoken to a student whom is willing to escort you to your classes. He should be here any moment.”

“What’s this student’s name, Professor?”

Dumbledore carefully chose another lemon drop before replying. “His name is Remus Lupin. He’s in the Gryffindor house, as are you, and he’s a very bright wizard.”

Just as he finished and you had pursed your lips, mulling the newfound information in your mind, footsteps sounded from behind you and you spun around curiously. You had to refrain from giggling as the boy you assumed was Remus Lupin stumbled ungracefully up the few steps. When his eyes quickly flickered to you, his head ducked but you still caught sight of the pink tint to his cheeks. He tousled his messy hair further as his long, slender fingers raked through it and a giggle finally escaped when he kept beating his eyes toward you, but never for longer than a few seconds. 

“Ah, Remus!” Dumbledore exclaimed and rose from his seat. “You finally arrived.”

Remus rubbed the back of his neck and nodded sheepishly. “Sorry about that, Professor.” He smiled nervously.

“Not to worry, Mr. Lupin. This is Y/F/N, a transfer student from Ilvermorny.” He gestured to you and the attention in the room turned towards you.

You smiled politely at him. “Hi,” You blurted and sent a small wave his way.

He tried not to gape at your enthralling smile and after blinking a few times to make sure you weren’t a figment of his imagination, he smiled weakly. “Hi,” He replied, but it was less bubbly and sounded like he’d ran a marathon beforehand.

The headmaster clasped his hands together and a creamed colored piece of parchment glided from within his desk when he flicked his finger wordlessly. It flew into your grasp smoothly and your eyes scoured over the words while Dumbledore explained, “This is your schedule. I have put you in the same courses as Mr. Lupin to make him escorting you much easier on both of you. Seeing as how it’s Saturday, Remus, you may show her around the school today if you please. Now, you two can be off!”


After the meeting in Dumbledore’s office, your tour of the school commenced. Your mouth remained parted as you walked the corridors alongside Remus, your eyes taking in as much of the surroundings as possible. He had led you to the grand staircase and you heard him chuckling as your head tilted back to admire the portraits lining the walls. The marbling of the stairs as well as the architecture of the arched doorways was simply breathtaking and you found it hard to take in all of the subtle details. 

A palm landed on the small of your back, urging you toward the staircase. He couldn’t stop his eyes from training onto your awestruck face and smiling in amusement. You looked as if you’d never experienced magic in your life as you studied the moving portraits when you passed them on the ascend up the marble stairs. 

Deep within your own thoughts, an abrupt squeak elicited from you when the staircase began to move, gliding through the air to connect in a complete opposite direction. Your body swayed dangerously and Remus instinctively caught your waist to steady you from falling backwards. Your hands gripped onto his biceps and your stomach lurched when his muscles flexed underneath your palms.

“I think you failed to mention that the stairs move,” You joked breathlessly and you weren’t sure if the pounding of your heart was caused by the moving stairs or him touching you. 

Remus licked his bottom lip and bit it, his eyes darting from you for a split second before returning. He smiled sheepishly. “The stairs move.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t bite back a smile. “Thanks for the heads-up.” You laughed and dropped your hands from his arms, placing your firm grip upon the railing instead. “Anything else I should know before I go any further? You know, so I can avoid plummeting to my death.”

“Right. Some of the stairs disappear or will make you leg sink through,” He informed as he continued on guiding you upstairs before pointing at a particular step that you both were approaching. “Like that one, for example. You’ll learn which ones to jump. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” You cried and widened your y/e/c eyes. “Is this school trying to kill it’s students?”

He chortled and hopped over the step with ease. “Hogwarts is one of a kind, love.”

His hand extended for yours which you gratefully accepted. You stretched your leg over the pesky stair and hopped onto the same one Remus stood on. Your landing wasn’t as smooth as his and you stumbled into him a bit. His hand that wasn’t curled around yours went to your waist for the second time and you flushed pink, giggling off the clumsy act. He smiled down at you gently and you swallowed nervously, his close proximity heightening your nerves. 

“Erm, we should probably head to the common room,” He said lowly and your belly fluttered. “It’s getting late.”

Pulling away from him, you tucked a hair behind your ear and nodded. “Lead the way, Lupin.”


The Gryffindor common room didn’t disappoint. 

A fire burned brightly in the fireplace, crackling and popping soothingly. Red couches and armchairs scattered around the room, but the small window seat caught your utmost attention. It had it’s own little nook, little plush pillows perched on top of the seat with a throw blanket folded neatly along it. You could vividly picture yourself practically living there with a book or homework assignments or perhaps charcoal pencils to sketch the view. It was cozy and warm to welcome you as soon as you entered into it. 

“The girls dormitory is that way and the boys is over there.” Remus pointing in the correct direction of the dorms and you watched in amusement as his face flushed. “Not that you needed to know where the boy’s dormitory is unless–”

You nudged him and he closed his mouth immediately. “Maybe I’ll visit you in your dorm sometime,” You teased and winked suggestively, thoroughly enjoying him so flustered.

“R-Right! I-I mean-”

“I’m kidding, Remus.”

“I knew that.”

Smiling up at the messy haired and brown eyed boy, you pushed yourself onto your toes and pressed your lips to his reddened skin. “Goodnight, Remus,” You hummed and just as quickly as it had happened, you had slipped out of sight towards the girl’s dormitory. 

Remus grinned goofily in the direction you had left in. 

He could still feel your lips on his face even as he laid awake in bed that night. 

So I sit next to this one girl in my English class

And she’s always taking my art pens and going through my doodle book without asking first and it’s really annoying since she’s pretty rude about it like she doesn’t even mention that she stole my expensive art marker she just kinda ups and takes it. Well I happen to know that she’s pretty homophobic so to get back at her I drew a picture of my very gay otp kissing on the front of my doodle book as well as a list of my favorite gay pairings (AmeriPan, Stony, Lams, SolAngelo, ect.) I am happy to announce that she doesn’t go through my doodle book anymore

✨ H.A.T.E  ✨


Peter Pan Imagine

Author: Joi A. Wade

Tagged: @tmrhollandkay

Requested: Yes,  Hi, can I get one where Pan & the reader are in HS and they don’t really get along but Pan always trys ti seduce her. Pan and the lost boys have a costume party and the reader dresses up as a sexy maid and Pan takes her to go to his room and smut.

Warnings: Swearing | smut | long | greaser!Pan | soc!reader

Summary: H.A.T.E = Having All These Emotions.

The word hate is a very well known word in the English language. Some say it’s rather strong, some say it’s something unnecessary to express. It’s avoidable; it’s easy to spread like a disease, it’s also just another four letter word that is shared among people. For this situation, it’s mainly between two.

Y/n L/n was one of the richest girls in town. 17 year old honors student, with a 4.0 average, and killer good looks next to her fabulous brain. Almost every girl wanted to be her friend, and for those who didn’t just bathed in their pool of, you guessed it, hatred.

Peter Pan was one of the baddest greasers in town. 18 going on 19, still a junior in high school, holding on to his 3.0 average for deal life (not really) and also killer good looks that could get any girl below his grade to swoon over him. 

The senior girls that he was supposed to be in the same grade with, didn’t want anything to do with him or his gang.

Including Y/n. 

But, that didn’t stop this greaser from flirting with her any chance he got. Every guy wanted nothing to do with him, thanks to his reputation, and for those who did? Good luck to them.

Y/n and Peter never got along since the day they met. The first day of high school, an awkward year for the both of them all started off with their orientation in the school’s gym. 

It was going fine, until a certain someone who was still on his childish side, decided to pull another certain someone’s skirt down right in front of everyone after the ceremony. Showing off her white, virgin panties. In front of every freshman. 

Just think about it.

Picture it in your head.

Prepubescent boys. E V E R Y W H E R E.  All witnessing the vulnerability of young Y/n in the start of the year.

“Why can’t you just grow up, you dumb hood!” 

“Maybe, I don’t want to grow up! Why can’t you just take a joke!”

“I hate you, Peter Pan! Till the day I die, you’re nothing but gum underneath my shoe!” 

“Right back atcha, princess.” 

And thus, the hatred grew from that day on to three years today. 

Now coming back to the present, on a Friday evening in October, we find our main characters to be sitting on opposite sides of their study hall classroom, waiting for the day to finally end and be free for the weekend. The class room was already divided into their own cliques, from Socs, to Greasers, to Middle class, you name it. Everyone was where they belonged. But, of course, this wasn’t just any day. It happened to be October 31, Halloween night. And guess who just so happens to be planing a stellar party, for all to those willing to come? I’ll give you one guess.

“So, as you all may know, tonight is the night where the dead roam the streets.” Peter starts, rubbing his hands together, as he scanned the classroom. “And I’m also sure you know I am cautious of your safety, so everyone is welcome to crash and have shelter at my place this Halloween night.”

Snickers are heard from the greaser side, partly of what Peter said, and the other being because of their passed out study hall teacher, drooling all over his desk and papers. With a roll of her eyes, Y/n responds.

“Why would anyone wanna go to your dump of a house? If I wanted to spend my Friday night with trash, I’d spend my hours standing in Wendy’s closet.”

Said girl starts to laugh at the insult, only to then realize she was just insulted. “Hey!”

Peter chuckles at the witty tongue he hates so much. Every time she opens her mouth, it’s an endless cycle of sarcasm and bitchiness. Leaning on a desk, he places his hands in his leather jacket, resting them just below his armpits.

“No one said you had to come, princess. I’m sure mommy and daddy don’t want you out past eight anyways. Wouldn’t want you damaging that pretty grade of yours, right next to that pretty face.”  Now the whole greaser side howled with laughter and ‘oohs’. Y/n scowls in anger, rolling her eyes yet again, ignoring his comment. “Aw, what’s the matter? Run out of things to say?”

“No. Just thought I’d give your brain a break, I mean, this is probably the most words I’ve ever heard you speak without stuttering like an idiot, or shrinking your vocabulary to one of a kindergartner’s. Tell me, grease, can you spell ‘damaging’?” Getting no response this time, Y/n only smirks, this time her side of the room laughing at his. “Just to humor you, because I guarantee no Socs are going if I’m not, I’ll come to your little party tonight.”

With a raise of his eyebrow, Peter licks his lips slowly, relaxing his hands and walking over to their side of the room. Two Socs that sat next to Y/n were quick to stand, blocking him from getting any closer. Having a silent stare down, Y/n places hands on their shoulders, smiling sweetly as she told them she could handle herself. Oh, the curve of her lips only made his blood boil. Not to mention how easily she could coax any man with just one curl of them, as they sat back down without protest.

“You sure a pretty little thing like you, can handle a party like mine? There are no rules, no limitations.”

“Ooh, big word, Pan,” He rolls his eyes at her comment, already bored with the conversation. “But, you’d be surprised what a ‘pretty little thing’, like me, can handle.”

“Care to give me an example, princess?” He asks, taking only a small step closer to her, his eyelids falling slightly as well as his voice. This sent chills through her body, but she’d rather die than let him see that it did. Never breaking eye contact, everyone around them waited for someone to make the next move. 

Until the bell rang. 

Everyone got up from their seats, the teacher practically falling out of his chair at the sudden wake up call, as the school day was finally over.

Inhaling sharply, Y/n drops eye contact first, taking her bag that Wendy held out for her, looking up at the tall boy one last time. “In your dreams, grease.”

“Rich girl.”

“Prick.”

“Bitch.”

“Oh, real mature.” She glares, turning with her chin high in the air as if she won that fight. With a slight shake of his head, he signals his gang that it was time to leave, heading out to maybe steal some beers and cigs on the way back to his house. While walking, the youngest of the group spoke up to his leader.

“Why’re you and her always fighting,” Henry asks. “She’s a real nice girl, why you gotta pick at her all the time, man?”

“Simple. We hate each other.” Peter shrugs, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

“Now y’all don’t, it’s obvious you wanna fuck each other. Just both of your prides are too big for one of you to go for it. It’s cliche, Pan. The rich girl wanting to be with the bad boy because her parents are against it. She wants you, she’s just making you work for it.” Tiger Lily nudges him with her elbow, while twirling her switch blade in the other hand.

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Tiger’s middle class, Pan, and yet she hangs with us all the time instead of them. Because…” Felix drew out, inquiring for Pan to finish his sentence for him.

“I ain’t stupid, I know what you mean. But, you’re different, Tiger Lily. You’re like one of the guys, it’s easy for you to adapt and be like us. But, Y/n? A whole different story.”

“Hm. Well, plus I’m a girl. I can see the signs of want from a mile away, and she is dripping for you.”

“Okay, now you’re just being weird.” Peter shoves her playfully, Henry shaking his head, not satisfied with his answer. “Look, tonight if she drops her attitude with me, then so will I. But, until then, I hate her fucking guts.” 

Meanwhile, on the richer side of town, Y/n wandered around the costume store, in a dilemma with ‘which outfit would be perfect’ for this said occasion. Not just any Halloween costume will do, she needed something that will really catch…a certain someone’s attention.

“No. No. No. God, this is a definite no. This is so stupid, how hard could it be to find a decent costume?” Y/n groans loudly, Wendy only giggling at her frustration.

“Well, you are looking on the day of Halloween. You’re a little late on getting decent, let alone anything at all. I’m just going as a cat; drawing whiskers on my face and buying this tail and cat ears. See? Simple and I don’t have to spend a lot.”

“Uh, you’re so cheap.”

Wendy glares at her head, grumbling to herself while her arms were crossed like a child would do. “At least I’m not trying to impress a greaser.”

“Excuse me? Who says I’m trying to impress that delinquent?”

“It’s so obvious! The sexual tension between you two is so suffocating, I can barely stand it any longer! One day I’m gonna get you drunk off your ass and lock you in a room with him-”

“[Gasp] This is perfect!” She exclaims, finally finding an outfit she likes in the very back of a rack. “Sexy maid! It’s ironic because his place will most likely be filthy. Now what were you saying about a room and ass or something?”

Sighing heavily, Wendy just grabs Y/n’s arm, dragging her to the register. 

“You’re so oblivious, it hurts.”

The sun was finally setting, and the street lights had finally cut on. Halloween night was something the troublemakers all over the town looked forward to, that and Pan’s parties. Halloween and end of the year parties were his specialties, filled with one night stands, hangovers, and wild memories to tell your grand-babies someday. Once the clock hit 10, everyone was piling into Peter’s place, for those who don’t get to be inside due to space, had most of the party outside, the backyard or on his neighbors lawn instead. Luckily where he lived, everyone was cool with everyone on the block, so there were no worries on horny teenagers grinding on each other on their front lawn. As long as it stopped by 2 AM.

Y/n and her large group of Socs make there way inside, all dressed up in their costumes, ready to have a good time. Readjusting the tight costume that felt like it was covering not a damn thing, Y/n took a look around. The music was blasting, the room already reeking of alcohol, and bodies upon bodies were pressed up against one another. Wendy tugs on her arm, pointing to the dance floor.

“Let’s go dance, this is my song!”

“I am not dancing up on greaser trash!” She shouts over the music, “You go ahead, find a guy, hook up, I don’t care! I’m going to get a drink!”

Giving her a thumbs up in response, Wendy disappears into the crowd. Y/n finally makes her way over to the drink table, filling her red cup with what she suspected to be just beer. Taking a huge gulp of the liquid, the burning in her throat confirmed her suspicion. It went down horribly the first time, but after her third cup, she was starting to loosen up and bob to the beat of the song.

Swaying her hips from side to side, she barely noticed a mixed group of middle class and greaser boys staring in her direction. One being bold enough to approach her came up from behind her, pressing his front to her back, helping her sway to the motion a little better. Turning her head to see who it was, she sneered.

“Get your hands off me.” 

“Aw come on, baby, let’s just have a little fun~”

“I’ll give you to the count of three. Last warning.” 

The stranger leans in to whisper in her ear, only getting half of his sentence out until he was dragged away by a couple of Peter’s friends. Not too long, Peter replaced his spot, his hands gripping her waist tightly, keeping her pressed against him, holding her still.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Y/n growls slightly, the sound sending a pleasant feeling straight down to his manhood, but the anger of seeing another guy touch her was clouding over that feeling. Turning herself around, she was quick to push him off. 

“Fuck off, Pan. I’m here to have a good time, not waste it fighting with you.”

“Well then stop the search, because the ‘good time’ is right in front of you. What’s more fun then spending the night with the host of this sick party?”

“Avoiding him.” 

Y/n was about to walk away, only for her arm to be tugged right back. Groaning inwardly, she was about to give him another snarky comeback, only for the look on his face to wipe that idea completely. He looked troubled, almost uncertain of something. 

“Follow me.” 

“What part of ‘avoiding him’ did you not understand-”

“Please, love.” 

Now this caught her off guard. Him, Peter Pan, the ruthless greaser that didn’t ask nicely, and took what he wanted, was begging her? Oh, she was definitely about to use this against him later. But, for now. 

“Fine.” 

anonymous asked:

Something with Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon and timetravel?

Anon, I am assuming you meant Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, but if you meant them as a pairing, you should know that, among other things, I have a student/teacher pairing squick.  So this will be gen.  I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted, but that is what I can write.  If you’re really set on the pairing and time travel, there is an apparently excellent Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon time travel story called Re-Entry, by the wonderful @deadcatwithaflamethrower.  I haven’t read the story, for obvious reasons, but most people seem to love it.  (It’s long, though.  Something like 1.5 million words across the story and its sequel, I think I heard.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn looked around him, eyes narrowed as he studied the armor of the men around him.  It looked like some form of Mandalorian armor, all of it white decorated in either blue or yellow.

They felt just as wary as he did.  To be fair, Qui-Gon had simplely appeared out of thin air.

Qui-Gon had been on a small planet on the Outer Rim, negotiating a cease-fire between factions on that planet. 

And now… he was in the middle of a battle field.

“Take him to the general,” one of the soldiers ordered as Qui-Gon took a deep breath to speak.  “If this is a Separatist trick, the general will know.  If it’s just Jedi crazy, he’ll be able to figure it out.

Qui-Gon kept the smile from his face.  It seemed like the man in charge was familiar with Jedi. The commander turned to him.  “Weapons?” he asked.

“Just my lightsaber,” Qui-Gon said, since there was no point in hiding that he had one.  The knife in his boot and the garrote disguised as a hair tie, however, could be hidden.

The commander nodded. 

“Captain Rex, General Skywalker and Commander Tano are out on patrol,” one of the ones in blue said.

“I know,” Rex replied.  He had blue on his uniform as well.  “General Kenobi is in camp, right, Cody?”

One of the ones with yellow on his uniform looked up. “If he isn’t, I’m going to ask to borrow Kix to sit on him,” he growled.  “He’s got two broken ribs.”

The men snickered.  Apparently, this wasn’t unusual.  Qui-Gon went with the men peacefully.  He was curious as to what kind of General might try to leave camp with two broken ribs.  And, apparently, do it regularly enough that it was almost a joke to his men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As he approached the camp, he could only come to one conclusion- their general was unmistakably a Force User.  Powerful, with an undeniably Light presence. Qui-Gon took a faintly relieved, very subtle breath.  There were, of course, many Force traditions in the galaxy, but most of the Light ones were on at least decent terms with each other.

Qui-Gon was led into a tent where a human man was studying a situation table.  His back was to them, but Qui-Gon was sure the man knew they were there.

Qui-Gon took the moment to study him.  He was of average human height, with reddish hair. From the back, he appeared to be dressed in Jedi robes topped by armor that mirrored but didn’t exactly match his men’s.

He was also tensing up as he turned around. 

Qui-Gon tilted his head as he studied the man. He wasn’t someone Qui-Gon recognized, but he was of an age with Qui-Gon- perhaps a few years younger.

The Jedi was studying him just as closely.  “I know who you appear to be,” he finally said.  “But I don’t know who you actually are.”

Qui-Gon frowned.  “I am Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn, and I don’t recognize you at all,” he admitted.

The man nodded slowly.  “If you really are… then you wouldn’t, not as you are.”  His gaze sharpened.  “But I doubt you are.  This would be just the sort of trick the Count would play.  And he would use you.”

Qui-Gon floundered for a moment.  He didn’t know any Count, not well enough that they’d try to trick a Jedi Qui-Gon didn’t recognize.

General Kenobi- who still hadn’t introduced himself- held out his hand.  “Your weapons,” he said.  “I can’t trust that you’re not some trick of Dooku’s.”

Qui-Gon froze.  “Why would Master Dooku… I haven’t even spoken to him in over a year!”

General Kenobi narrowed his eyes.  “You actually believe that,” he said.  “Nevertheless, your weapons.”

Reluctantly, Qui-Gon handed his lightsaber over.  This man was a Jedi, and Qui-Gon had just appeared in the center of his army.  And that was another thing Qui-Gon needed to know.  Since when were Jedi military?

The general eyed the lightsaber for a moment, then studied him.  “Your boot knife, and the garrote, as well.”

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows.  Very few people knew he kept holdouts like that- and to know those specific ones?

“Who are you?” he asked as he drew the knife.

The man’s lips twitched.  “Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said evenly.  “And you, Knight Jinn, if that is who you truly are, are well out of your time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anon, I hope you liked it!

Alright folks!  That’s the last of the current round of prompts.  Normally, I would open prompts up again in a week or so. Unfortunately, I’m about a week out from a mission set and class schedule that will leave me with- if I’m lucky- about a week and a half of non-crazy work hours between now and mid-July (and yes, that includes this upcoming week).  So, prompts will be opened sometime after I recover from the entire thing.  Hopefully, sometime before August, but no promises.

anonymous asked:

heya sorry to bother you but do you have any fic-recs for something bakugou-centric, preferably with no ships, kinda like that lil' ficlet you reblogged and drew a scene from a while ago f that makes any sense

uuuhhHHH i can only think of a few off the top of my head right now, but yeah sure!!! 

and no worries, all of these are purely platonic!!!

Fresh Snow, Little Joys (which is chapter 9 of Bits and Pieces of Heroes Lives) by @sevi007​ - a cute story about how Class 1A goes out and plays in the snow, and how Bakugou wants to join but stubbornly refuses because no one bothered to ask him. has very cute Dadmight and Dadzawa moments

The Name You Call Me by @sevi007​ - a cute story about Bakugou and Izuku’s relationship when they were kids, which touches on Bakugou’s nickname and how both characters admire All Might.

What’s In A (F*cking) Name by @athanatosora​ - a super cute idea regarding what Bakugou’s hero name might be

Chapter Three Seven of One Life for them All, If That’s What it Takes by @athanatosora​ - the fic is actually about an AU where an older Izuku goes back in time to try and prevent certain things from happening again, but each chapter is written from another character’s point of view. 

it’s actually pretty slice of life-ish, tho the chapters don’t make much sense without reading the entire story. but those two chapters in particular do focus on Bakugou and Bakugou&Kirishima’s friendship, respectively, and it’s very well written

Strays - a cute story about Bakugou taking care of stray kittens. (mention of animal death, regarding the kitten’s mother)

Curiosity Killed the Kacchan - Bakugou accidentally hears Todoroki ask Izuku if he’s All Might’s illegitimate son. Bakugou begins to wonder… a very funny and cute fic that’s really enjoyable to read!!

What You Are in The Dark… Is A Fanboy by me - MHA AU where everything is the same, except the kids use All Might merchandise to bribe Bakugou into doing random little things for them. Bakugou isn’t actually in this one that much, it’s mostly Kirishima and Kaminari, but he is the main focus of it, haha

Truth Be Told I Never Was Yours // The Fear, The Fear of Falling Apart by me - Bakugou is drowning under the weight of guilt-it’s his fault that All Might had to retire, that everything happened, that the world is in chaos, it’s all his fault-Toshinori Yagi takes the sobbing, guilt-ridden child into his arms and tries his best to comfort him. 

based on the end of the Izuku vs. Bakugou fight; All Might comforts Bakugou as best he can. very hurt/comfort-y

Forgiveness, Can You Imagine by me - Bakugou gets sick, and Izuku, Iida, and Uraraka have to take care of him. also very hurt/comfort-y, and there’s an emotional scene at the end admits some things in a nightmare

Bakugou Cooking Headcanon by @thecrowmaiden​ - a cute little mini-fic about Bakugou using cooking as a way to de-stress, and his classmates picking up on this to help him

Winter Bakugou Headcanons by @thecrowmaiden​ - a few cute Bakugou headcanons that are focused on winter, involving Dadzawa, baking, and class 1A.

Three Cute Bakugou Headcanons by @thecrowmaiden​ - again, not really fics, but just some really cute Bakugou-centered headcanons. (also a doodle i drew in reference to one of them) involves Dadzawa, baking (again), and his friendship with Kirishima 

i actually don’t go looking for fics too often b/c i’m pretty particular about how Bakugou’s character is written, so most of these are written by close friends of mine (… or by me, haha). but i hope you enjoy them!!!

continuation of the ODSS-1b fig newton story

the person who sent in those other asks was totally right so ive continued my earlier story some to reflect that. i might write more in this same vein? im not sure. this is sorta… idk, it’s not the Best thing but it sure is a thing, and at least i remembered to save it this time lmao

The first time you notice them is probably a Thursday. You’re just guessing, though; you’ve been in the library for a long time. They’re in the psychology section, which intrigues you, so you walk up behind them silently. They have their index finger on the spine of a book titled “Dissociative Disorders: a Guide” which you’ve read and don’t like, so you tell them so,

“That one doesn’t have reliable sources and contains lots of misinformation.”

They flinch, and drop the other books they’re carrying. As they bend down and scrabble to pick them up, they also duck their head, hiding behind a thick curtain of dark hair.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, and kneel down to help them. Oops. You hope they never think to call that in. You’ve been here for practically Ever, you should have this down by now.

“I’ve got it,” they say suddenly, severely, almost sounding scared.

You catch a glimpse of a tattered notebook before it disappears behind a Chemistry textbook. When they’ve finished gathering their stuff back up, they don’t look at you, but still ask,

“Um… How do you know the book is bad?” 

“I’ve read it,” you tell them, “and I was in a position where I needed accurate information, and it lead me to Make a Deal that maybe wasn’t the best choice.” 

They look up at you then, dark eyes striking and intense, and say,

“You made a deal based on the information in a book on dissociative disorders.”

It’s not quite a question, but you nod anyway. You narrow your eyes at them, and they dip their head to let their hair cover the left side of their face back up. They’re still looking at you with the other eye, and you’re beginning to suspect they’re in a similar situation to where you were upon arriving at Elsewhere University. They’re a freshman; you can tell because a copy of the orientation brochure is sticking out of their Chemistry textbook.

“I can recommend a better book if this is for a class project…?” you let your voice tilt up at the end of your sentence to make it into a question, and they hesitate, before shaking their head.

“It’s maybe a little bit personal.”

You nod, because that’s what you thought.

Keep reading

The orange

So he always has food around his room, and one day he had this orange sitting by my desk. A few days go by and the orange is still there. I said, “hey when are you gonna eat that thing?” And he explained that he always forgets that it’s sitting there. Then he comes up with the idea of drawing a face on it. Now, he’s a terrible artist, but he actually drew this really funny “I’m done with your shit” face on it.

So everytime anyone in class said something stupid, he’d look at me and hold up the orange, like “are you fucking kidding me” and eventually it turned into just saying “orange”.

A few days ago he threw the orange out because it was getting old, and I was joking about having a funeral for our fallen. Then today some kid in class threw his desk at the wall, screamed, and then walked out. I just looked at F like, where’s the orange. This is when you use the orange. But it’s not here anymore.

Then he asked me to stay after class and said, look I got you something. It was a new orange with a fucking face on it. When he left work yesterday, he went out of his way to go buy me an orange.

He got me. A fucking orange.

You can keep your jewelry, because I have an orange.