be sure to mind cracks in the side walk (only organic ones matter, the straight separating lines dont count)
black cats are tremendously lucky, but you should be kind to one just for the hell of it
dont look in mirrors today.
if you see ladders obstructing walkways, going underneath it is indeed passing through a portal but it just leads to a separate dimension where everything is the same except a lot more people have been named Frank. Don’t recommend. just walk around it
Don’t make eye contact with the suspiciously normal looking people manning said ladders. theyre Franks.
be sure to make your midday tea and stir counter clockwise with a knife
usually youd have to catch a spider in your home and release it outdoors in order to receive a free answer to any question, but today all spiders will give free answers to questions you didnt know you had, but in obnoxious riddles, and it’s more hassle than its worth. avoid
it is perfectly valid to levitate in your room for 10 hours while shouting ancient hymns in an unrecognizable language and then pass out and not remember any of it. you are valid
say hello to any ghost or ghoul you see today! its only polite
however, if you see a doppleganger of yourself, you must follow it, but from a distance. dont let it disappear from your sights before youve had a chance to spot the one difference between you and it and please do remember that slight changes in hair length is usually just the wind moving it in a strange way.
if your doppleganger approaches you, then you’re the doppleganger this year. run
if you happen to catch a glimpse of your reflection and the movement seems off, dont panic! the system will be lagging a bit, nothing serious
candy will be extra sweet today so if you’re into that then by all means
ok keep it sexy, keep it classy, and most of all have fun
I THINK THIS FASHION IS CALLED PASTEL GOTH. …GOLF? GULF? IN ANY CASE, IT SEEMS TO INVOLVE A LOT OF SKULLS, WHICH I CAN ONE HUNDRED PERCENT GET BEHIND!
Papyrus, of course, is a very fashionable skeleton who also seems to be quite proud of the fact he is a skeleton, so finding there are all kinds of clothes and styles on the surface that incorporate skeletal motifs is pretty exciting to him. It’s possibly what gets him to change out of his battle body, tbh…
This is Papyrus’ outfit in the current chapter of Unexpected Guests! I couldn’t figure out how to make a glittery skull decal work easily in the comic’s format, so you’ll just have to imagine it’s there. =u=;
“They call you heartless; but you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it. You are ashamed of your flood, while others are ashamed of their ebb.” - Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
They have a routine for this, the way they do for most things. Draco gets onto the tube at Seven Sisters and waits in the second-to-last carriage. The station is a few minutes walk from where he lives, in a cramped, Victorian flat over a falafel shop that always stays open until ten past two in the morning, for people coming home after a night out. He’ll open his bedroom window and smell cooking food and the heavy, oily smell of frying that always makes him starving, and faintly, underneath all that, traffic. London smells like traffic wherever you are, like petrol and pavement and concrete, nowhere more so than the underground. Draco is used to this now. He’s used to a lot of things, now.
Once he’s on the train he’ll get a seat if he can find one, and if not then he’ll stand by the far doors that don’t open onto the platform. He doesn’t read unless someone before him has left a paper on the seat, because that usually seems like good luck, and Narcissa always told him it was wasteful to ignore good luck when it came your way. She was wrong about a lot of things, but not about that.
Tonight he doesn’t get a seat, is actually hard pressed to even make his way over to the other doors through the crush of people. It’s a Saturday, everyone’s going south into the center, or maybe across the river to Brixton. He waits the two minutes it takes to get to Finsbury Park, where more people get on than get off, impossibly, and then he waits another two minutes (these ones always seem longer) until they’re pulling into Highbury and Islington. He can’t see the platform through all the bodies, but the doors open and people get on and then, out of nowhere, Harry is at his side, hand on Draco’s hip, and Draco leans his temple against the freezing glass on the doors. Seeing Harry is always a relief, it’s always a breath let out after holding it for too long.
Harry pokes him in the stomach, grinning. “You look bereft,” he says, and Draco pointedly wonders and then tries not to wonder where Harry learnt that word. He hates the way he’s sometimes still surprised when Harry says something clever. It’s awful, it’s one of his worse qualities.
He reaches down for Harry’s gloved hand and squeezes, hard. “I’m always a little worried you won’t get on, or that you’ll get on the wrong carriage or something.”
Harry laughs. “Move to the stop after this one and I’ll be able to get on first.”
Draco says, “I doubt that would help,” before he realises Harry was possibly being facetious. Harry laughs, again, and each time he does it Draco is surprised he made it happen.
“The worst thing that would happen would be that you would have to wait for like, five minutes for the next train to arrive with me on it,” Harry says, and Draco doesn’t even have the words to describe to him how genuinely awful a prospect that sounds.
“That is actually the worst thing I can think of,” he says, not even joking a little bit, but Harry laughs. For a third time in the space of about twenty seconds. Draco smiles, then. He can’t really help it.
“It’s so funny to me how weird you are about the city,” Harry tells him. The train stops at Caledonian Road, which means they only have about one minute until all hell breaks loose when they have to get off at Kings Cross.
“I hate the city,” Draco says insistently. He hates his stupid, small apartment that he didn’t really realise he was in the process of buying until the sale was somehow finalised. He actively dislikes the public transport systems, and the busy streets, and the adverts in shop windows that flash at him when he walks past them. There aren’t any trees anywhere, and the nearest good park is a bus ride away from where he lives, and it’s silly, or childish maybe, but he can never hear birds anymore, or see the stars at night when he looks for them. He doesn’t say this to Harry, who loves London more than he loves a lot of people. Loves the crushing crowds and the noise and the baking hot pavements in the summer and standing outside pubs with his friends drinking pints.
“Why the fuck are you living here then?” Harry asks him exasperatedly, dodging out of the way when someone elbows past him to get to the doors. This is a discussion they’ve had on many occasions, and Draco has never really come up with a good way to say because anywhere else would be too far from you.
He shrugs. “I don’t mind the people,” he says, aiming for casual.
Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Draco is avoiding eye contact but he knows Harry’s watching him. He can feel his own face heating.
“Oh,” Harry says, and shifts their hands so that their fingers are laced more firmly together. Draco can hear him smiling.
“Don’t,” he warns, worried he’s terribly red, but then starts to smile too, helplessly.
“Draco,” Harry says, shocked and pleased-sounding, tugging on his arm.
“Don’t,” Draco says again, still not looking at him, almost laughing. “Shut up. I didn’t say anything.”
Harry buries his face in Draco’s neck, and his breath is warm on the underside of Draco’s jaw when he says, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I literally didn’t say anything,” Draco repeats.
“The nicest thing you’ve ever insinuated about me,” Harry amends, laughing against Draco’s skin, and Draco is abruptly, fiercely terrified that that might be true. And all of a sudden he can’t abide the thought that Harry is going through his life counting the times Draco has been sweet to him on one hand.
“Oh,” he says gently, “no,” and puts his arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulls him closer. “Darling,” he says.
“Please don’t call me that,” Harry tells him, muffled. “It’s really embarrassing.”
Draco puts his lips to the top of Harry’s ear. “I love you,” he says, quietly, and Harry goes still. “You know you’re the only reason I’m still living in this hateful place.”
“I did know that, yes,” Harry confesses. “Your apartment doesn’t have a library.”
“And I lament that fact every day of my life,” Draco agrees. “It’s still mostly worth it.”
Harry snorts unattractively. “I love you too,” he says, just as the doors open into Kings Cross.
AMAZING NEW PARANORMAL DISCOVERY!!!!!!!! science side of ghost fandom explain this to me
best explanation so far: during the Famous Portal Accident, a ghost got caught in her hair and when she became half ghost. now the ghost is part of her hair. it just. lives there. in her hair, forever.