meg look


Giry League you guys absolutely need to watch this! Open it in your browser, phone, tablet, I dont know! Just watch it! This video has so much Merik feels it begs for a masquerade au in the movie verse! I mean its the same dress and everything @meggiry @meggiry-khaleesi @meggiryvintagebeauty @cosette-giry THIS IS NOT A DRILL


If I Were in a Wizard Duel…

bioware in dao: 

me: oh, nice. good stuff wow impressive the very best. deserves everything nice in the world

bioware in da1: 

me: o H - N o ! whAT IS THA

bioware in wot: 

me: oh. okay, here we go. who would have thought that this is the same perso-


me: NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Be My Boyfriend


“Dean, be my boyfriend!” Castiel hissed.

Dean’s attention was pulled away from Charlie (who snorted into her drink) when Castiel grabbed his arm.

“Uh,” Dean said, feeling like he was missing out on some vital information. Castiel’s wide eyes were a little too bright and his cheeks were flushed with pink, indicating that he was probably a little bit drunk, though that still didn’t help clear up the situation.

“Come here!” Castiel dragged Dean by the arm across the crowded room until they stood in front of a short brunette who Dean thought was named Meg. Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist and squeezed him to his side.

“I told you!” he told Meg triumphantly. “I have a boyfriend!”

Meg looked Dean up and down incredulously. “You’re dating Dean Winchester?”

Starting to catch on, Dean put a possessive arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Yeah, he is. Got a problem with that?”

Keep reading

A topic one of my friends and me talked about. She asked: “Why are the killers able to catch a survivor who’s running like mad and they’re just walking normally?!”

Here’s your answer Sherry.

I randomly chose Michael as killer for this comic (and because I never drew him…). Not that you think this topic is specifically about him, oh no. This goes for all of the killers.


Some just fun drawings of Apollo. He looks different in all of these lmao so just combine them all and you’ll get my nerd.

“We’re all here for the same reason: because we believe in this project.”

“I’m here because you got me fired an’ I have a goddamn mortgage,” Lucas corrected. He wasn’t smoking, but was chewing a stick of gum very aggressively. It made him look even angrier. Garth missed the cigarettes.

“Which means you have to believe in this project,” Garth continued, “because if you don’t you’ll be homeless.”

This pep talk had gone a little sideways. Alan still looked green. Lucas was trying to set the room on fire with his eyes.

“Right!” Garth clapped his hands together. “Good talk. Let’s get everything set back up, maybe when the ghosts get back they’ll be more polite this time.”

“If one of ‘em starts tryin’ to get my pants off again,” Lucas warned, “I’m shootin’ you.”

“You’ll shoot me?” Garth asked for confirmation, pressing his hand to his chest. “Why would you shoot me? What could that possibly accomplish?”

“Aside from shuttin’ you the hell up, maybe once you’re dead you can pull 'em offa me.”

“I don’t think that’s how ghosts work.”

“I think you know approximately fuck-all about how ghosts work, an’ I think I didn’t sign up to get sexually assaulted by a goddamn poltergeist.”

“I don’t think we’ve seen any evidence that this is a poltergeist.”

A strong wind blew open all the windows and doors. Lucas did not say he had told him so, but did glower and spit his gum onto the floor.

“So maybe it’s a little–” Garth was cut off by a sudden blinding light. “Susan! I told you we’re waiting on the lights.”

“That’s not me, sir,” Susan said.

“No, sorry, that was me,” someone said as the light faded, who was using Lucas’ voicebox but who was very clearly not Lucas. The accent was wrong, for one thing. For another, Lucas did not usually look that friendly.

And his eyes didn’t usually glow. That was a pretty big tell.

“Alan,” Garth hissed. “Please tell me you’re getting this.”

“You bet your ass,” Alan confirmed from behind the camera.

Not-Lucas was looking down at themself. “Wow, he looked hot before, but now that I’ve got eyes he looks really hot.” They lifted up Lucas’ shirt to look at his abs. Garth didn’t blame them; they were very impressive abs. “Holy crap. Does he have a butterface? I can’t tell because I’m using it.”

“No,” Garth assured them, “he’s pretty handsome. Sort of a rugged prettyboy thing going on.” Possibly he should not have admitted that with the camera rolling.

Lucas’ eyes stopped glowing, and he snarled as he shoved his shirt back down, tucked his hands under his armpits as he crossed his arms. “Do not tell her that,” he said through his teeth, “do not be havin’ a conversation with the spirit forcibly inhabitin’ my body.”

“So it’s a girl?” Garth asked, immediately latching on to that detail.

“I am,” she confirmed cheerfully, uncrossing Lucas’ arms. It was strange to see Lucas’ face with a smile on it, his posture open. A nice kind of strange. “I should introduce myself: my name is Jolene, like the song.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jolene,” Garth said, nudging Susan to make sure she was picking up audio.

“It is not,” Lucas snapped. “What did I say about havin’ a conversation? Stop talkin’ to her an’ get me a damn exorcism.”

“Goodness,” Jolene said, “he’s cranky, isn’t he?”

“I ain’t cranky,” Lucas said, “I’m possessed.”

“Lucas, I need you to calm down until we can find out what she wants,” Garth said.

“I don’t give a damn what she wants,” Lucas said.

“I want you to help me solve my murder and find some lost treasure,” Jolene said, undeterred.

Garth pressed his palms together in a prayer pose, turned his face skyward and put his hands beneath his chin. “Thank you, Santa,” he said toward the ceiling, “for blessing me this day.”

“I swear to God I am gonna shoot your ass.”

Art by @anxiouspineapples

Character: Phoebe Locksley

“You’re The Hood,” he said to me. He sounded starstruck.

I sighed. Everyone was so original with names these days. Can you tell I’m being sarcastic? But beggars can’t be choosers. Or rather, thieves can’t be choosers. “At your service.”

A look crossed his face. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

“Not if you don’t make this easy for us. Besides, that’s not really our business model.”


A painful love story

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