i haven't made anything for them in a while so

  • Seven: *to V* Look what you've done, you've made Yoosung cry.
  • V: But he always cries!
  • Yoosung: *while sniffling* N-Not true..
2

yeah these are monster high ocs

elchupa cabra, daughter of the chupacabra

excitable, friendly and loyal. has no concept of manners, can be quite rude with the way she talks, but she means well. jsut fucking eats goats - will eat an entire goat for lunch and none of her friends will blink an eye. takes everything very literally, doesn’t understand sarcasm. has a short temper. a lot of people judge her before getting to know her and assume she’s horrible, but she’s really nice most of the time. cares a lot about her friends. not the most intelligent but makes up for it in spirit. also u cant see bc they’re closed here, but her eyes are neon blue.

nosferachel, daughter of count orlok

she’s draculaura’s weird trad goth cousin. has a bit of a german accent, though she doesn’t talk much she just kind of stares. she’s not exactly evil, but if given the opportunity to inconvenience someone she’ll take it. quite apathetic, doesn’t seem to care about anything. drinks blood out of fancy chalices, for The Aesthetic, and probs smokes clove cigarettes. when talking to people she doesn’t know she’s sarcastic and condescending. has been caught eating spiders multiple times. does theatre and always takes the main villain part. generally just… quiet?? she doesn’t do much, just stands there… menacingly…

babadook jr, aka babs, daughter of the babadook (im having the time of my life)

also trad goth, but doesn’t put as much effort into her Aesthetique as nosferachel. always wears long cloaks and top hats. has a bit of a raspy voice and talks just a tad too loudly. eats worms and lives in her dad’s basement’s basement. outwardly friendly, though quite clingy and can occasionally be overbearing. if she likes someone she just wont,, leave them alone,, again, not exactly evil, but likes playing pranks on people and is a bit too megalomaniacal for her own good. has a new zealand accent. quite destructive for no apparent reason. a lesbian icon, leader of the monster high lgbt+ club.

Month Asks

January: What is something new that you have wanted to try/have tried? If you aren’t doing it, what’s holding you back? Did you like the outcome if you did do it? 

February: What is love to you? Try not to use the word “love” in your answer!

March: Where is your dream spring break vacation? Assume it’s all expenses paid and you could do anything you wanted; where would you be, who would you be with, and what would you be doing? 

April: What’s your favorite type of weather? 

May: Is there anything you’re looking forward to in the next few months? 

June: What are you proud of? 

July: What is your favorite way to celebrate something? All out, alone, with other people? Does it depend on what you’re celebrating? 

August: What, in your opinion, is the most pointless holiday on the calendar? 

September: Favorite school story? 

October: What’s your favorite Halloween costume that you’ve ever worn? If you could dress up as anything for Halloween, with nothing holding you back, what or who would you go as? 

November: When is your favorite time of the year to go shopping? Do you buy specific things during specific times of the year?  

December: What is your opinion on snow? If you’ve never seen it, would you like to? If you have seen it, is it more enjoyable or more of a nuisance? 

Day 23: Magnus + Battle

The portal shimmied into existence and Magnus glanced up, face set into a smile, a greeting on his lips that soon died when instead of his tall, lanky and dark haired boyfriend, he was staring at his blond, cocky, more compact brother.

“Where’s Alec,” Magnus asked as his eyes darted behind Jace waiting for Alec to step through the portal. The portal closed, leaving him and Jace alone in his loft. “I didn’t grant you all a private portal so you can drop in any time you please Wayland.”

Jace shrugged. “Sorry.”

Magnus arched a brow. “Well? Where is he?”

Jace winced. And if that wasn’t enough to give him away, the way his eyes darted about, unwilling to meet Magnus’ eyes confirmed it.

Magnus growled. “No.”

Jace took a step back. “Magnus…”

“You didn’t.”

Jace held his hands up. “Hey. I couldn’t very well tie him down you know. Alec can be quite insistent.”

“Insistent,” Magnus hissed. “He hasn’t slept in four days Jace. Four days. And you let him accept another mission?”

Jace shook his head. “I wasn’t in the institute when he got called out. By the time I got back, he was already gone.”

Magnus pushed off from the seat, a snap of his fingers changing his red draping shirt and jeans into a dark purple military jacket, and black cargo pants that he’d specifically had tailored to fit his body like a glove; his spiked combat boots on his feet. He walked around Jace, ignoring him as he went to the drawers and pulled out his jeweled daggers, a twin set Ragnor had gotten him back during the witch trials, so he could defend himself without necessarily resorting to magic. Ragnor had had them spelled so even when they left him, they always returned to him when he called for them.

He still carried them with him any time he entered a fight.

Keep reading

2

Love Live Wallpapers

↳ For @thatonegirlyouprobablyhate

Sherlock is getting frustrated. For minutes now he is trying to turn the knob of his microscope, but it simply wouldn’t focus on what he wants to see. Again and again he feels the growing need to look up and focus on what is really on his mind right now. With an irritated growl he pushes back his chair, which protests with a rather loud squeak as its legs are torturing the kitchen floor, and turns his back to the table. His dressing gown swirls dramatically behind him and he pinches the little wrinkle that always deepens above his nose when he is thinking too hard.

“Don’t,” he tells him then, his voice full of tension.
The rustling of paper is the only response, at first, as John folds the newspaper in front of him and lowers it.

He’s chuckling now. John has been watching him for quite a while already, this morning, since he has come out of the shower in nothing but his dark red robe and settled himself opposite Sherlock at the table to read the papers. But to be honest, the armchair in the living room would have been a much more comfortable choice, he actually just wanted to steal some glances at him.

John loves it when Sherlock is working but at the same time is so close and so much less under the pressure that some days demand of him to be under. That’s why he has always loved the mornings with him. Sherlock’s sleep ruffled curls, his cheekbones still coloured in a mild pink, his clothes too worn from having slept in them (should he have slept, you never know with Sherlock) and his brain still a little slower, his presence just a little softer. Even though he would never admit that.

“Don’t what?” John asks, amused by the way Sherlock’s frustration makes him not only look so much more human but also just like the kind of drama queen he knows has always been his type.

With one last huff the detective lets himself fall back into his previously abandoned chair, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, tapping on the wodden surface with quick fingers, before looking down all of a sudden, and right into John’s big blue eyes. “This! This…” he is gesturing between the two of them, as though the air swirling there could possibly answer all the questions, “Looking at me like that. Like I had just found the magic cure against cancer. I haven’t, in case you were wondering. Until now this morning has been a sheer waste of time!”

“Really?” John is chuckling again, a grin has now become the regular expression on his face. All he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss off that tension of Sherlock’s brows, or give those pulled down corners of his mouth some other occupation. “I was just reading the paper.”

Sherlock glares at him then, unsure if he should believe him although he knows that John has stared at him, but John’s expression is just so difficult to read these days when his whole mind is so, so full of him that it feels like it was about to burst from all the impressions. “Well, what were you reading about then?” he asks, bored already, “Who’s sleeping with whom this time?”

“Nothing.” John reaches out his hand to take one of Sherlock’s, taking in everything, from the almost hidden tremor in his fingers to the lovely seconds of when his face would emphasis just how completely at a loss he is right now. He shouldn’t, John knows he shouldn’t, but he acutally quite enjoys to confuse his genius.

“Sorry?” Sherlock asks, his voice reduced to something small and insecure.

“I lied to you,” John’s grin is so utterly lovestruck now, and he knows it as he is kissing the soft skin of Sherlock’s hand. “I wasn’t reading anything. Couldn’t concentrate. You’re too distracting.”

“You’re distracting…” Sherlock wants to snap it back at him, but it just comes out as a single breath as if he would have remembered what he wanted to tell him from the start and now that John has said it first he was too astounded to grasp it. John is shining so bright now, his smile so proud and his eyes as dark and mysterious as a night’s sky where Sherlock has found himself lost in too many times to count already.

“So you and I?”

“What?”

“You asked me. ‘Who is sleeping with whom?’ You and I. Are doing that. Since last week.”

“I-” This brings the colour back to Sherlock’s high cheekbones and the warmth around his chest surprises him in that he cannot believe how helpless he is becoming when it comes to what his body desires. Oh, and how it desires, and how it has always desired this man. Sometimes it feels as though his body feels the need to catch up on each and every time that Sherlock has let his brain reign over it and ignored what his transport has yearned for instead.

As it is now yearning, and yearning constantly and he himself is fighting and fighting and fighting to get anything else done at all and not have his head in the clouds that all look and smell like John Watson, and he fails.

“Now,” he breathes, and it is meant as a question, but both of them are finding themselves up on their feet again, longing for each other, reaching and grasping for hems of shirts, curls, jaws, lips.

Just when both of their hands are holding each others faces, stroking over jawline and cheeks oh-so-softly, carefully, breathing each others air and their foreheads are touching as if any other gesture would be too much already, John hears himself answering. “Now. Always now.”

10

Arrow | Characters | Dinah Laurel Lance | “Death is the biggest form of darkness to exist in the world. It hides in the shadows trailing your every move. The happiness inside of you is ripped away once you’re led into the dark path. You find yourself surrounded in loss. It doesn’t always necessarily mean losing a person either, there’s many variations of witnessing the death to something in your life. It could mean losing your romantic relationship with the man you once dreamed of being with, taking away the light you once held inside of you. Once the person you love most in your life has been taken away from the world due to death falling upon them, the darkness then traps itself around you consuming the soul. You lose the person people once saw as you as, and instead look for a meaning that’s something so important to you, in your own heart that drives you to find the motivation required after suffering through so many tragic experiences. The only way to keep in control from death stealing everything you love away, entering your life once again is to fight it away with every inch of breath to protect the people who you love by becoming a different version of yourself - a hero who will have many tales told about them, and have their former loved one remembered for the saviour she was.”

anonymous asked:

People who attended the concert and who saw Harry fall are saying that Louis was close to him and saw it and just kept walking and didn't react at all and that just... idk it makes me feel really weird. Did you see anything? I haven't been able to find video yet.

None of them reacted visibly…but Harry was on his back catching his breath for a while and Louis did walk by him so I wouldn’t be surprised if they made eye contact or whatever. But literally no one onstage reacted, Harry barely did once he stood up.

Things with this fandom have gotten beyond ridiculous. I don’t just mean on here, but on twitter and Instagram too…so bad that Sophia’s friends feel like they have to make their accounts private. It’s really sad. When people constantly comment on their posts & reply to their tweets about things that have nothing to do with them (Bushfer mostly) it’s really not ok!! People need to find their chill & learn to respect these people and their privacy. You have gone from crazy to completely and certifiably insane. I know i’m probably gonna get hate for this, but i honestly do not care. I’m not calling anyone out & this honestly is not directed at anyone, its a general statement. I just think that when Sophia is lacking on her social media posts & her friends feel like they can’t post things freely and have to make their accounts private, there is seriously something wrong.