now this looks expensive

alternate quotes proposed were “I want YOU to FORM VOLTRON” and “Keith, if I don’t make it out of this alive, I want YOU to lead voltron.”

I was going to go to AFO and get Josh Keaton to sign this, but alas I am just starting work and probably wont be able to go sob sob

Edit: so??? Red bubble removed my art bc DreamWorks somehow caught wind but I ain’t gonna fight it bc fair. But commissions opening soon if anyone is interested!!

DO NOT REPOST

2

How is she so perfect?

5

My mom’s cat had kittens and they’re sooooo cuuuteeee, they’re a week old in this pic and they try and hiss if you touch them without mom around, but all that comes out is this little KHCK sound and they jump a little bit.

IMAGINE JEROME KIDNAPPING YOU ‘CAUSE HE FINDS YOU ATTRACTIVE

Originally posted by kay-stin

a short imagine to get back in shape after a long break. also the gif is not connected but you’re welcome


“Ugh!” [Y/N] crushed onto her bed. She was home from school, finally. She was really tired today, even though she had as many classes as always. You could guess it was probably her brain working twice as hard.

The girl wanted just to fall asleep. But she’s got homework. That was the problem.

[Y/N] for her whole school life was doing her homework in a library. Her favourite one was close to her apartment. She liked the feeling of not feeling alone. She lived only with her mother, who was working late, [Y/N] was barely seeing her, not that she cared about her anyway. When she actually talked to her mum, she was the pain the ass.

Since she started to have different opinions, tastes or likes - for example - from her, it became difficult. Her mother couldn’t respect that, so [Y/N] couldn’t respect her either.

She made herself up from the bed and took a book and started to read it. She read one chapter and ate that one sandwich she’d never screw up. It was very easy and yeah, [Y/N] wasn’t a great cook to be honest.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her lipstick was already gone by now. She took an expensive looking little tube and opened it. It was a dark red lipstick. She applied it on her lips. It + her black eyeliner made her look dangerous. A thick choker around her neck made the look complete.

[Y/N] grabbed her backpack with books and notebooks that were needed, plugged earphones into a music player and left her apartment not forgetting to lock the door first. She didn’t want any burglary to happen, did she?

She loved listening to music. It made her feel alive. As she was walking on the streets, she imagined the world being a huge music video. It was so weird but also so funny to do.

[Y/N] already finished doing her homework and studying a little bit. She was reading a comic book. There were so many in there, she couldn’t stop herself and it’s not like anybody was waiting for her at home, missing her.

She felt uneasy as she heard people leaving quietly, trying not to be noticed. But not in the way you’re acting when you’re in a library.. it was different, she couldn’t tell what made her notice that but she’s got that feeling.

She was gazing at her comic book, not reading anything, just gazing at one point, cause she couldn’t focus. She was waiting for something to happen.

[Y/N] sighed in annoyance. What were those people about? Nothing was happening. She was mad at them making her paranoid. Relieved, she put her earphones into her ears and forgot about the world she was technically in.

Just as she started to pack her things, somebody stopped her.

A pale, freckled hand. On her comic book.

“I love these series! Don’cha have a good taste, Doll?” A maniacal laughter followed.

It was no other than Jerome Valeska.

[Y/N] was frozen in fear. The fact that the he was smirking at her suggestively wasn’t helping at all.

Now as he took a better look at her his smirk grew even bigger and became a Cheshire Cat’s size.

“You.” He grabbed her arm with a full force. It would leave a mark for sure.

“You are coming with moi!” He pulled her with him so fast she couldn’t even scream.

2

the punchline is that i still haven’t figured out how to draw allura

New Power?

Danny has lately been feeling odd tensions in the air… What could they be??

Human emotions. Yes, Daniel James Fenton has gained a new power, the ability of an increased sense to what a human being feels; at school he would find it difficult to leave the building at the end of the day without a migraine. At home.. His parents are loud, (Mostly on Jack’s part.) so he always answers the door grumpy, just wanting the daily headaches to go away.. But what even puts Danny in a grumpier mood is when a certain lonely, fruit loop stands at the front door step…

Ding Dong

“Danny, could you get the door!?” His mother called out from the door to the lab; she was working on a new invention, one that will for surely mess with Phantom, their’s and the town’s #1 Enemy.

Danny laying on his front side on his navy blue bed, arms resting to his sides, and head dug into his pillow, groaning the teen lolled his head back, to what seemed like one of annoyance and fatigue.

“Okay.” The raven haired teen drawled out exhausted, words just loud enough for his parents to hear the tired voice from upstairs;

school’s a living hell, in other words: it’s his daily dose of Angst, and today he was not having it, considering he just came home from school.

Seconds later, trudging down the stairs he opened the door rather harshly, surprising the visitor. “Yes?” Danny said sharply, as clear annoyance dripped from his words.

“Daniel, you seemed to of had a good day.” That voice, was the last thing Danny needed right now. Slowly looking up he scanned over an expensive black suit toward the face of the unwanted guest, only to reveal… Vlad Masters.

He rather a G.I.W agent to have arrived.. But as implied, today it was just not his day.

“What do you want?” The teen rushed wanting Vlad to exit the premises as soon as possible, “Ah, Daniel, I just wanted to stop by. See how you and Jasmine have been holding up.. As well as your mother..” He mumbled the last part, though it didn’t go past Danny.

Anger and Amusement. The waves of emotion informed.

“Yeah, yeah.” The teen began to make a shooing motion towards the billionaire, only to receive a fake ‘hurt’ look.

Now just Amusement. The air read.

“Daniel.” The elder Halfa scolded, “That’s no way to treat a guest, and if you don’t mind me asking..” He continued with slight hesitation..

The rippling of emotions twisted into something strange..

The billionaire dusting off invisible dirt out of nervousness said awkwardly, “Are you okay-..? You have been acting odd.” That was it?

He was… Sincere? The aurora told Danny.

Raising a brow feeling the need to gawk, the boy mentally shook his head, “I’m fine..” his expression softened into that of a sad one as he averted his eyes, maybe Vlad wasn’t going to be an overbearing fruitloop today. He hoped.

“If I let you in..” Danny looked back up at the billionaire, “-you promise to not of been making any plans that involves you being here?” The teen said with vague suspicion as it then replaced the depressing look.

“I promise my boy.” Vlad said readjusting his slightly relaxed posture, though his hand fretted to straighten out his tie to show his hesitation and nervousness.

This time the aurora read..

Bullshit.

Although, Danny felt it didn’t matter now. And let him inside.

A/N: Oh Danny, you can’t trust a Frootloop!

Apparently backstage before Frank Ocean is where you hit rando celebrity paydirt. ok.

heatwave

pairing : regulus x petunia
word count : ~3.1k
prompt : summer fling
for : the anon who requested it and @petuniaevans who i know loves this pair

she didn’t know. of course she didn’t know. she wouldn’t let herself know.

here was this perfectly polite and handsome boy, this funny and intelligent and charming boy and he was interested in her.

she should have known.


the summer of her sixteenth year was hotter than usual. the clouds had all ran away and left the sun free to cook the streets of cokeworth. just like lily had ran away to spend the summer with her school friends and left her there all alone.

her sundress stuck to her back as the tall grass bit at her chins. she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist and pushed her hair off of her face. the lake seemed closer last year. had she come to the right spot? just as she was starting to think she’d made a mistake, she crested the hill and saw her glistening salvation.

the air was hot but the water was cool. the sun hit her face as she floated along on her back, the rest of the world slowly fading out of existence. the water lapped at her chin and birds called out overhead. it was so peaceful that she almost forgot how unfair her life was.

“watch out!”

she almost forgot how sad her life was.

“hey! girl!”

she almost forgot how horrible her life was.

“STOP!”

she startled, breaking the water tension and taking in a gulp of water. upright and treading in the water, she looked around to find a dark haired boy waving frantically at her. he pointed to her left; she was a meter away from his fishing line. she sighed and wiped the water from her face.

“it’s too hot to fish!” she called. he fiddled with what she now saw was a very expensive looking rod, struggling to reel his line in.

“what?”

she rolled her eyes and swam in towards him. “it’s too hot to fish,” she repeated when she was at the bank. she pulled herself up but stayed sitting on the bank, keeping her distance.

“maybe that’s why i haven’t caught anything.” his accent was too polished.

“what are you using for bait,” she asked, looking around and seeing no tackle box or anything that could be holding bait.

“that might be another reason.” with his bait-less line finally out of the water he set rod down.

“haven’t you ever even fished before?” she scoffed.

his face fell for a moment before he shrugged. “no, but it looked like fun. have you ever fished?” she nodded but didn’t say anything. there was a silence between them before he stretched a leg out and dug around in his pockets. “do you want a peppermint?” he asked, holding a hand out to show three wrapped candies in his palm.

she shrugged. “sure.”

he stood and walked over to her, then sat down beside her, careful to leave a generous gap between them, then handed her a sweet. she pulled her legs into her chest and hugged them, resting her chin on her knees and unwrapping the peppermint in front of her legs.

“i’m regulus,” he finally said, the candy affecting his words. her face scrunched.

“that’s a funny name,” she said before thinking. she flinched. it was a mean thing to say. she’d found that lately everything she’d say would be mean, and she didn’t know how to stop herself.

but regulus just laughed. “yeah, i guess. but it’s a family name.”

she looked at him, really looked at him. she took in his odd clothes and his posture and his nails, his new rod with zero experience, his odd and stuffy family name. “you’re not from around here, are you?”

a big smile spread across his face and his bit his lip. she knew then she was in trouble. “it’s that obvious, huh?”

she had to leave, and she had to leave now. she’d only end up embarrassing herself if she stayed any longer. she’d only end up hurt. she pushed herself up with her hands and then wiped them together to clear them of dirt. “maybe next time you should leave the fancy loafers at home, regulus.”

he jumped up as she walked into the water and shoved off from the bank. “where are you going? you didn’t tell me your name! wait!”

“petunia!” she called, unable to help herself. she swam backwards, farther away from him. “it’s petunia!”

“i’ll be here tomorrow petunia! right here, right at this time!”

she took a breath and dived, turning around under the water and swimming away as fast as she could. when she came up for air he was a small dark blob against the green grass of the bank, standing there with his had shading his eyes, watching her swim away.

she should have known.


it had been a week of meeting almost everyday, right there by the lake. most days they just swam around, racing each other, splashing each other, seeing how long they could hold their breaths, and when they grew too tired to swim they laid out on the beach towels she’d brought and let the sun dry them off. more often times than not, they fell asleep, if only for a few minutes.

this time he’d brought a picnic basket, full of sandwiches and fruit and fizzy drinks. “i can’t keep living off of crisps,” he laughed as she looked at it all in amazement.

“yes but how have you kept it all cool?” she asked, popping a grape into her mouth. she didn’t see his face, she was too excited about the food.

“uh, fancy new basket,” he said, pushing the empty, plain wicker basket back with his foot. “try the sandwiches,” he hurried, “they’re delicious.”

they spoke as they ate, all about petunia and her family, her school, her hobbies. he was so interested in her that she hadn’t even realized that he’d never given up any information about himself. it was so rare that anyone wanted to hear about her and her thoughts and ideas and now that he’d opened the gates she couldn’t stop.

“i think i’d like to open up a little bakery one day,” she gushed. “with yellow awnings and little tables outside.”

regulus smiled. “you like to bake?” she nodded. “well then you’ll have to bake me something sometime.”

she blushed and finally decided that it was too hot to continue sitting in the prickly grass. they stripped to their swimsuits and raced to the water’s edge, laughing as they each kept trying to pull the other back so as not to lose. the day continued on just as the days before it. they swam until their skin was pruned and their legs cramped up and then they crawled on to their towels and stretched out in the sun.

only this time, just as she was nearly asleep, he reached out and rested his hand in hers.

when they woke up, still holding hands, they didn’t say anything for a long while. they turned and faced each other, their cheeks sunburned and their fingers dancing together between them. he looked into her eyes, memorized by their honeycomb color. she blushed.

“you’re getting freckles,” he finally said, his voice barely audible.

“well your hair’s getting lighter.” she retorted. they laughed.

they laid there even longer, until the air cooled off and the sun started hiding behind the trees, their sign that it was time to part ways.

“let me walk you home,” he said suddenly. they’d been quietly packing up their things and petunia almost dropped her towel.

“that’s probably not a good idea,” she said, reaching for the towel regulus had rolled up.

“it bugs me every time to think of you walking all that way alone.”

she was quiet. the last thing she wanted was for this to all be spoiled. she felt like if they never left this spot everything would stay perfect forever. she didn’t want her parents to know, didn’t want them asking questions or ruining everything like they always did. and if her sister ever found out? well that would be the end of everything. lily would be so excited and happy for her, would want to know every detail, would never stop smiling every time she looked at her. it would be horrible.

petunia?”

she looked to him. his concerned face morphed into a small smile. but oh! if he walked her home that was just more time to spend with him. “fine,” she sighed. “but not to my door. i don’t want my parents to see you.”

he smiled and took the rolled up towels from her, putting them into the empty basket, then held out his free hand for her to hold.

“what about you? won’t you have to walk twice as far now?”

he shrugged. “i’ll just send for my brother. he has a motorbike.” he smiled, like he was proud.

she should have known.


there was a ping on her window. she put down her book and looked around, and then another one sounded. concerned, she threw back her covers and went to the window between her bed and lily’s, which stood empty and perfectly made. just as she pushed the window up, another ping sounded right above her.

“oh! sorry!” 

she looked down to see regulus smiling up at her. it had been a week since he first walked her home, and he’d done it everyday they met since. “are you honestly throwing rocks at my window?” 

when he didn’t respond she closed the window and changed from her pajama bottoms into jeans and put her shoes on. she opened her door and peeked into the hall, the clock on the wall read half past ten. her parents would be sound asleep, even so she crept quietly down the stairs and out of the front door. 

“what are you doing here?” she asked when she met him on the street.

“i just wanted to see you,” he stammered.

she eyed him, then looked around. “how did you get here? did you walk the whole way?”

“my brother dropped me off,” he said quickly, then took her hand. “want to go for a walk with me?”

she eyed him carefully again before agreeing. it wasn’t until they passed under their first streetlight that she saw how puffy and red his eyes were, how rough his cheeks were. “reg, what happened?”

he tried to shrug it off, tried to keep walking. “just some family stuff. honestly, i’m fine.”

petunia stopped them and turned to him. “you know, i don’t know anything about your family. aside from the fact that you’re well off and have a brother with a motorbike.”

regulus sighed and sat down on the curb. petunia sat next to him. “i don’t really have a good home life. my father’s never around, and when he is he and my mother are fighting. my brother’s a bit of a family disappointment and because of that i have all these extra high expectations on me.” he stopped and she could see that he was trying not to cry. “but when i’m with you it’s like, none of that exists, i’m just a fifteen year old kid enjoying the summer. it’s just us and the lake and the sun. it’s just you.”

and there, in the middle of a summer night, sitting on the side walk under a street light, next to chain link fence, with a boy whose last name she didn’t even know, petunia evans had her first kiss. his lips were salty but soft, and his nose was pressed into her sun-burnt cheek but she didn’t care. her arms were still at her sides, gripping the pavement as if she might float away at any minute, but his hands moved to her hair, pulling her closer as his tongue slid across her bottom lip.

the light above them burst with a loud pop, leaving them startled and in the dark.

she should have known.


the next few weeks passed in a hazy and sticky sweet blur. they spent more days at the lake, but petunia would also occasionally led them into town where they got ice cream and sweets and once they even went to the cinema.

“that was amazing!” regulus gushed as they walked out, hand in hand as they nearly almost always were. petunia laughed.

“you act like you’ve never seen a movie before.”

he laughed too, but his was more nervous. “my mum’s really strict. it’s all books as far as she’s concerned.” he was quiet for a moment before he turned to her. “want to see another!?”

she should have known


it was the middle of august. the heatwave had finally broken and cooling off in the lake wasn’t quite as satisfying as it had been, so they laid on the bank, sprawled out on a large quilted blanket.

“you’ve been so quite all day,” regulus said, playing with the ends of her hair. he was on his stomach, propped up on his forearms, and she was on her back with her arms folded over her eyes to block the sun. “what’s the matter?”

she sighed dropped her arms to look at him. “my sister’s coming home tonight.” regulus didn’t say anything, he knew what a touchy subject her sister was. “it’s all my parents have been talking about for days, it’s all they’re going to talk about for ages. she’s going to have learned all this new-” petunia caught herself about to say the word magic. that would have been horrible, it would have been the end of her and regulus. he would have thought she was insane and run away screaming. “i wish she’d just stay there.”

he kissed her, sweetly, slowly, in the way that always calmed her down when she got upset. “i wish we could just stay here,” he said.

“the summer’s coming to an end,” she said, holding back tears. “what’s going to happen then?”

“we’ll figure something out.” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. but she pulled away, sitting up and looking down at him.

“i don’t even know where you go to school! how are we going to figure it out?”

he sighed. “it’s just some dumb old private school. it’s embarrassing really.” he paused, then when he saw her skeptical face he added, “i can write to you!”

she thought about the offer for a moment, thought about how romantic it could be. maybe in the letters he’d open up more, they’d could share more and be even closer next summer. “we can trade addresses,” she said hopefully. her heart dropped, though, when she saw his face. “what?”

“i don’t really know the schools address, is all.”

there was something in his voice that told her he was lying and her heart broke. “you ass!” she cried. she pushed him away and stood up and began to hunt for her sandals. “what, do you have a girlfriend at school or something? was this all just some joke to you?”

“petunia, no!” he said, struggling to get to his feet. “of course not! i’ve never even had a girlfriend before. please, just stop!” he took her by the arms, stopping her from gathering up her things.

“why are you lying to me?” she pleaded. she saw that he was just upset as she was.

“there are just, things i can’t tell you.” he said. she scoffed. “i can’t. i’m scared to, but i want to, but i just can’t. i would be in so much trouble if i did.”

she crossed her arms. “oh, you’d be in big trouble if you gave me your school’s address?” she asked. “please.”

“it’s just complicated, okay?”

“it seem’s like you’re the one who’s making it complicated. can’t you even tell me the name, then? if you can’t give me the address? or do you just really not want me to write you? how about a phone number?”

there is no address!” he exclaimed, and half empty can of fizzy drink that had been sitting on the ground next to them exploded.

petunia shrieked and froze, hands up, fingers splayed, legs covered in syrup. and then, as if a sports highlight reel was playing behind her eyes, everything came together. how out of place he was, the odd name, the mysteriously cold picnic basket, the streetlight, his amazed reaction to nearly everything she showed him, how he never talked about his life, the school…

you-” she started, pointing a shaky finger at him. he reached out a pleading hand, but she pulled back.

“it’s not what you think, i can explain.”

“you’re one of them,” she mumbled, tears streaming down her face, eyes focused on th ground behind him. she was too heartbroken to move.

“please petunia,” he begged, “let me-”

“hogwarts,” she croaked. this time regulus froze. she looked to him, saw the confusion in his face. “that’s it. you go to hogwarts, don’t you? don’t you!”

“h-how do you know about hogwarts?”

“my sister, you idiot!” she slapped at his arm. “my sister’s a witch! and her friends are witches! and you-you’re-” she finally broke down and her knees gave out. his arms latched around her, catching her and guiding her do the ground. “you’re a freak, just like her!” she sobbed, pushing away from him. she stumbled to her feet.

“petunia wait!” regulus cried, but she was already running.

“just leave me alone!” she yelled, she ran until she hit the street nearest the lake, until he was clear out of sight, and then she walked home, crying and cursing herself.

she should have known it was too good to be true.


petunia watched as her father slammed the boot of their car shut, lily’s school trunk snugly inside. her mother was already in the front seat, and as her father opened the driver’s door he called for her sister. lily stepped on to the step behind her.

“are you sure you don’t want to come with us, tuney?” lily asked, nudging her shoulder.

petunia shook her head. “i’m still not feeling well,” she lied. lily nodded and hugged her, petunia hugged her back but only just. she watched as the early morning sun bounced off of her lily’s shining red hair and for the first time since she was twelve, petunia wanted to follow after, to go to the station and get on the train and go to school with her.

“lily, wait,” petunia said, her voice surprising even herself. lily turned and took a few steps back.

“yeah?”

petunia bit her lip. “do you… do you, maybe, know a boy named regulus?”

lily looked at her with amazement. “sirius has a brother… but how-”

“does sirius have a motorbike?”

lily stepped even closer. “petunia how do you know all of this?”

petunia took her sister’s hands. “please. i’ll tell you everything when you come home if you just- just tell him that i’m sorry.” lily opened her mouth to speak but petunia kept going “please. just tell him that i’m sorry and that… he can write me, if he still want’s to.”

Seven days ago, I applied to renew my passport. Seven! Only seven days ago, and somehow the new one is in my hand right now.

Bravo, Japan–I know I complain about you, but wow. You get shit done. Bravo, American Embassy. Bravo everybody. This is great.

4

“Paris is good. Nice call, Monsieur.”

“De nada, muchacha.”

Thank you for 100 follows! Needless to say, I miss these two real bad and I have for around six years. DC writers are pretty sadistic ya know that? Then again, I guess I might be too.

Because who has time or money to read almost 30 years of relationship development…

Under the cut: Look Over Your Shoulder, a monologue recap Fanfic: Fluff/Humor/Angst. DC Rebirth. Wally’s POV. Warning: Mention of the grief typically associated with Alzheimer’s. Also I cried while writing this. Story set to this song.

Keep reading

Happy belated birthday @shimmer-n-glitter! Here’s a Kageyama + slight pout!

This is my first time with digital art, so sorry it looks kinda bad (^_^;;)  I had no idea what I was doing

Wake Me Up [Viktuuri]

Summary: AU where Yuuri and Viktor are still figure skaters, but instead of being Yuuri’s love interest and Coach, Viktor is his friend and another skater who competes against him, like Christophe and Phichit. After a casual ‘friends with benefits’ kind of hook up, Viktor starts to see Yuuri in a different light, and questions whether he just wants to be his friend, or something more.

Word Count: 3,759

Read Here: [x]

They’re tangled together – limb entwined with limb as they strip each other of their clothes. There’s the occasional drunken giggle and the knocking of teeth and suddenly their clothes are gone, and they’re kissing and sucking on skin and gasping each others names. Short, breathless gasps of Yuuri and Viktor. The only sounds you’d hear is slapping of skin and gasps and moans as they melt into each other.

There aren’t any feelings here. It’s only platonic passion and emotion and desperate need for some sort of release. However, Viktor let’s himself forget among the desperate pants and moans.

The platonic emotions are back, though, and it’s all over when Yuuri wakes him up.


He’s naked, drowsy and in pain from a hangover. He keeps the sheets over him, and realizes that he’s not in his or Yuuri’s homes, but a very expensive looking hotel room. Viktor remembers last night, but only parts. He’s not naive – he knows what happened with Yuuri. He knows that they slept together. He knows that it was entirely casual and he knows that Yuuri thinks nothing more of Viktor than he would of a friend.

He only faintly hears Yuuri’s voice as he wakes up. His eyes are slowly adjusting to the seeping light but he can see Yuuri’s shape as it wanders around the room. As he adjusts, he can see the exposed muscles in Yuuri’s back flex.
Yuuri isn’t particularly muscular, nor is he tall or typically attractive. But Viktor notices, as the light hits his face in a certain way, that he is unusually beautiful. His face is rounded, slightly, but his jaw is strong enough. His eyes are plain brown, but they’re also a lovely brown, and they look gorgeous behind his glasses.

Yuuri’s voice is barely above a whisper when he sits on the bed beside Viktor. “You need to get up, Viktor.” His hand rests on Viktor’s thigh and he offers a warm smile. “You promised Chris that you’d help him prepare for the party tonight.”

Viktor grumbles and sits up straight, his hand flying to his head as he grimaces. He’s never been his normal giddy self in the mornings. “Why do we need another party? Isn’t the Banquet enough?”

“It’s not an official official,” Yuuri shrugs as he hurries on a shirt. His drawstring pants are loose and start to slip down his waist as he gets up. He fixes them and tightens the string. “It’s just a party that Chris wants to throw in celebration. I don’t know why he’d be celebrating, though. This is the first time he hasn’t placed second in a long time.”

Viktor giggles like a schoolgirl. “Or first,” he reminds the dark haired skater. “Don’t forget, Yuuri, you placed second.”

“Yeah, and you placed first.” Yuuri rolls is eyes. “Like you have every year.” He sighs at Viktor’s mumbled, not every year, and runs his fingers through his hair. “You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. In case you’ve forgotten, you were my inspiration since I was a kid.”

“And I’ve admired you since before we met last year.” Viktor grins. He finally pulls himself out of bed and shrugs on a night gown. “You’re too hard on yourself, as well, Yuuri.”

They get dressed in silence. Viktor’s eyes wander to Yuuri again and again, and he sighs. He hates this feeling. Yuuri is one of his best friend’s – to think of him like this is selfish. He hates that his stomach l fills with butterflies every time he looks at him, and he hates that he can’t help but smile whenever Yuuri fixes his glasses or a strand of hair. He hates it.

Viktor has never felt like this about Yuuri before. Sure, he admired him for a good year or so, and he’s definitely thought about how good his ass looks in his costumes, but he’s never really thought about him like this.

Before either of them say anything, Yuuri’s hand is on the doorknob and he’s twisting it and it’s open, he turns back to Viktor and smiles timidly. “I’ll see you at the party tonight.” And he’s gone. Viktor looks around. So this is my hotel room, he thinks. They all look the same, don’t they?



“Yurio~” Viktor singsongs to the 16 year old blond as he walks into Chris’ party. His face is flustered and it’s clear that he’s just been with Otabek. “You look awfully dishevelled!”

Yurio’s eyes are wide as he turns his gaze to the floor, and Otabek walks in behind him. They’ve done this before, Viktor knows it. “Shut up, shit head.” He turns bright red as Otabek stops at his side. “What would you know?” he bumps his hand against his taller friend’s and the older bumps Yurio’s Back.

“I know that whenever your face is that red, you’ve been up to no good.” Viktor hums knowingly with a shit eating grin he knows Yurio hates. “And that your lips are swollen.”

It’s Otabek’s turn to flush, his eyes growing wide as he looks down at Yurio. Victor’s grin doesn’t falter as they both make their way to the bathrooms in a rush. They’re only in there for ten minutes, and return to Viktor telling a dad joke to Yuuri, who’s eyes wander to the pair and greets them with a grin that almost splits his face in two. “Fancy seeing you two here,” he hums. “I thought you’d avoid a party put together by Chris like the Plague, Yurio.”

“Don’t call me that, piggy.” Yurio spits, no venom in his tone. “Beka forced me to come. He said it’d be rude if I didn’t.”

“He was right!” a voice comes from behind the blond, louder than the music playing over the bustling conversations, and they all recognise the voice to be none other than Chris’. He decided to play all of this seasons music for the party, even the songs from the skaters who didn’t make it to the Grand Prix Final. “You wouldn’t want to be so rude as to not come to your dear friend’s party, would you?”

Yurio scoffs. He grabs a drink from a platter one of the volunteers is carrying around and pretty much downs it in one go. “The fucking Banquet is enough, I only go to it because I have to.” He ignores Otabek bending down to whisper, you don’t actually have to go. “This is bullshit. Especially the fucking butlers.”

“Oh, Yurio!” Viktor sighs dramatically. “Such a foul mouth for such a small boy!”

“Shut up, old man.”

They all burst out in laughter, other than Yurio, of course. Viktor gives Yuuri a sideways glance and his face is fixed on his. His eyes wander across Yuuri’s features and he takes in every wrinkle and curve in the younger man’s face as he laughs.

Yurio notices Viktor staring, and a grin similar to the one Viktor wore earlier splits his lips. “I noticed the piggy leaving your hotel room this morning.” At Viktor and Yuuri’s sputters and coughs, Yurio rolls his eyes. “Did you forget that our rooms are on the same floor, dumbass? What was Yuuri doing in your room last night?” his voice is demanding as he gives the pair an impatient glare.

Viktor starts to panic as he swallows the lump in his throat. He’s about to sputter out some kind of lie before Yuuri speaks up. “I was having a panic attack.” He lies awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “I… Uh, drank a bit too much at the Banquet last night, so… I get anxious when I’m tipsy. When I started sobering up I started getting all weird and panicky so I found Viktor’s room and he helped me out.”

Yurio doesn’t seem to notice Yuuri’s lie, which is strange for thim considering he’s far more observant than most people realize. He murmurs under his breath. “With sex,” but they all pretend not to hear. They all do.

Viktor gives Yuuri a look that the brunette definitely notices. He looks down at the Japanese skater and furrows his eyebrows, as if asking, why lie? Yuuri shrugs and smiles warmly at Phichit as he enters the room, leaving Viktor behind with tinted cheeks.



Viktor has never understood the idea of a tattoo. Perhaps it’s because of his appreciation of the human body, or just the idea of something so permanent and painful. He’s just always found them distasteful.

Well – until now. He’s standing in front of an expensive looking tattoo parlour – one about half way between his apartment and the rink he trains at. He was walking home, but stopped at the sight of it.

He looks down at his bare wrist and shivers. It’s autumn, almost winter, and the cold is slowly creeping into the air. He thinks of what it would be like to have something so terrifyingly permanent as a tattoo against his complexion, and thinks about what he’d even have inked into his skin.

A name. A specific name. With a fancy ‘Y’ and two cursive ‘u’s and an ‘r’ and an ‘i’. Or would he have it in Russian? Or Japanese? English seems most appropriate, considering its the second most common language in the world.

Viktor sighs.



When winter finally arrives, Viktor realises something he wishes he hadn’t.
He sits beside Yuuri at an outdoor cafe, both covered in layers of warm clothing and scarves and jackets. It’s a warmer day, still below ten degrees Celsius. They share a large bowl of chips (they’re both a bit tight on money) and their fingers brush against one another’s. Yuuri’s cheeks turn pink, and Viktor’s eyes widen as he observes his best friend’s face.

How has he never noticed it?

Normally, Yuuri’s eyes are brown. A deep brown that you can get lost the in if you stare long enough. But today? Viktor’s gaze doesn’t stray or falter as he stares and notices them – little flecks of caramel and golden.

It happens again, not a week later. They sit inside on a colder day, beneath blankets as they watch Shrek for the third time that month. Rather than paying attention to the movie (he can probably recite the entire script, by now), he’s paying attention to Yuuri’s eyes as they flicker back and forth across the TV, and he notices them again. Little flecks of golden and caramel hiding in the deep chocolate brown that Viktor can get lost in.

He keeps seeing them. He sees them in the mornings they’re together and the nights they share at each others sides. He sees them when he closes his eyes.
When Spring comes bounding, blinding, they’re gone, and Viktor realises that they’re only there in cold air.

Viktor wishes he had never noticed the golden caramel flecks in chocolate brown, because he selfishly decides that he wants nothing more than to hold Yuuri in a cold place for the rest of their lives



That night, at Chris’ party, when Yuuri told everyone that whenever he has a panic attack he goes straight to Viktor and that was why he was there the night before – he wasn’t telling a complete lie. He does have panic attacks and when he has them, who’s the first person he thinks to go to?

Viktor.

He’s sitting on Viktor’s love seat in his living room now, his head in between his bouncing knees and cradled by his own hands. Viktor’s hand is against Yuuri’s back, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades as he whispers to him.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s voice is soft and soothing to Yuuri as he continues rubbing his back. When Yuuri slowly nods his head, the silver haired Russian frowns because he knows that his friend is lying. He always knows when he’s lying. “I know you like hot baths. I’ll run you one, alright?” When Yuuri doesn’t move, Viktor smirks. “I’ll fill it with scented bubbles~”

Yuuri tenses and hesitates before he finally nods.

As Viktor fills up the bath he sits and stares and wonders. He watches the bubbles fill the bath and pictures Yuuri lying there, giving Viktor the look he always gives him. Losing himself in Viktor’s eyes like the Russian got lost in his.

Viktor imagines a future. He imagines a child in the bathtub in a home far away from the city. He pictures Yuuri trying to cook and failing miserably and he pictures the two of them at one another’s side on the lounge in the living room, looking down at a child grinning up at them from the carpeted floor.

Viktor has to shake his head to get the picture of it out of his head.

When he returns to the living room, Yuuri stares at him with wide, anxious eyes, and his fingers are tangled and fiddling. Viktor sighs and sits beside him, and Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor’s torso straight away.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice is small, unlike his normal, boisterous tone. “What set you off?”

Yuuri’s reply is so small, Viktor almost doesn’t hear it. He does, though, and once the brunette has mumbled out the small, timid “You,” he’s holding on to him like his life depends on it without giving a single care about the hot bath turning cold. He can draw another one later.



They’re walking along a beach when Viktor finally does something.

His eyes are fixed on the sand as they dawdle along the beach at each others sides. Yuuri is smiling at Viktor and telling a story about the friend of his from Hasetsu who used to help him with his skating, but Viktor isn’t listening.

He notices a pebble that kind of resembles a heart shape, and he closes his eyes as he stops completely. Yuuri looks back at him. “Viktor, are you alright?”
The Russian doesn’t reply. He reaches for the pebble and stares at it in his hand. He has a rock in his other hand, suddenly, and starts chipping at the pebble. Yuuri’s eyes are fixed between Viktor and the pebble in his hand and he narrows them. “Viktor. What are you doing?”

Viktor looks down at the pebble in his hand, satisfied, and hands it to Yuuri. “If you can, use some string and make it into a necklace. You could wear it, if you want. I think it’d look nice on you.”

He doesn’t notice the tear rolling down Yuuri’s right cheek until he really looks, and suddenly, he feels one trickle down his own cheek – hot and barely even there.

And now Yuuri’s smiling up at Viktor, lopsided, awkward and nervous, just like all of his beautiful smiles. They’re contagious – Viktor noticed this a long time ago, so he smiles down a got Yuuri, and suddenly their fingers are tangled and they’re both silent.

They stay like that until they’re both going home.



Viktor isn’t entirely sure how, but it happens again.

For a second time, they’re a mess of limbs and lust but this time, they aren’t drunk. They’re completely sober as they dance through the routine another time – kisses and gasps shared. They cling to each other, pulling one another closer with each passing moment. Yuuri lies beneath Viktor and moans his name, over and over. He’s never been particularly crude – profanities aren’t his style.

Viktor is the same. His mouth only let’s sweet pants and gasps tumble out and he’s looking down at his best friend with adoration in his eyes and admiration in his features.

For a second time, it’s all over when Yuuri wakes him up.

This time, they’re in Viktor’s apartment, and Yuuri isn’t wandering around the room without a shirt on and only drawstring pants. Yuuri lies beside Viktor, just as naked as the Russian. His snores are loud and he understands how he woke up.

He treads lightly into the kitchen once he’s dressed and makes two cups of tea. Yuuri’s is a Japanese herbal tea that Viktor knows he loves. He tiptoes into his room, and gives a small smile when he sees Yuuri, sitting up in his bed. “Good morning,” the brunette mumbles. “Did you make tea?”

Viktor nods and hands him his mug, sitting beside him to drink his own.

“It’s the herbal one I told you about.” Yuuri notices as he inhales the scent. “I can’t believe you remembered.” He sips at his tea, his face lighting up as it warms his face and body.

Viktor watches him. He watches how his lips wrap over the edge of the tea cup and how his fingers are long and slim. He watches Yuuri’s eyes, too, and notices the wrinkles at either side of his face when he closes them. He watches him and stares at every part of his face, and looks down to his own hand.

His hands are kind of pale, like the rest of him. His fingers are slim and bony, and his hands are thin and you can see a few veins. He looks at his finger – his forth finger – and sighs. He thinks to himself, wouldn’t a ring look nice there?

His exhale wavers as it leaves his lips and he looks at Yuuri. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. Looking at Yuuri. “I’ll be back,” Viktor snaps suddenly, wincing at his tone as he makes his way to the balcony. He grabs a pack of cigarettes and grimaces at the photo on the packaging .

He hates the feeling of smoking. He feels gross and he hates himself for it but he can’t stop. He started about three years ago, just after he cut his hair – he was going through a kind of phase. An existential crisis when he’d questioned his skill and career and he decided then to say fuck you to his health and his iconic hair.

He doesn’t smoke very often, so he’s never done it in front of Yuuri or any of his friends other than Chris. He supposes that’s why he grimaces and frowns when Yuuri pads onto the balcony, giving Viktor a disappointed stare.

“You didn’t tell me you smoked.”

“I don’t do it very often,” Viktor sighs, taking a long, soothing drag from the cigarette. “I’m not like one of those chain-smokers who can smoke a pack a day.”

Yuuri’s face twists into a cringe when he smells the smoke, and he turns his nose away. “I hate the smell.” He says. “My sister smokes and I’ve been trying to get her to stop but she won’t listen to me.”

“Mm,” Viktor takes another drag, then puts it out in an ashtray he’s hidden so no one can find it without looking for it. “I’ll try and quit. For you.”

Yuuri stays silent.

For some reason, Viktor opens his mouth again. “Yuuri, how do you feel about marriage?”

Yuuri’s eyes were wide as they snapped up to meet Viktor’s, and he stars stuttering as his fingers automatically fiddle. “Well… Technically, I can’t get married, but it seems nice…” He alerts his intense, nervous gaze from Viktor’s eyes to the floor.

The silver haired Russian frowns, silently cursing at himself for being the reason that saddened gaze sets upon Yuuri’s expression. He nods and hums solemnly, and jumps when Yuuri asks, “Why?”

Viktor is caught off guard with how close Yuuri suddenly is to him, which makes him want to laugh. He looks down at the brunette and heaves a great sigh from his lungs before looking away.

Being this close to Yuuri is like being in the eye of a storm. It’s calm, quiet and seemingly peaceful, but something always happens to get Yuuri out of this shy, nervous state and into his Eros persona – the storm.

Viktor knows that he feels something for Yuuri beyond a sexual attraction; he’s not naive. He knows that the feeling he gets whenever he looks at Yuuri is something far more. The feeling of overwhelming affection seeping through his chest and enveloping his heart – it was almost suffocating and he needed to do something about it.

“Viktor?” Yuuri’s voice brings him back to where he’s standing; on his balcony, the brunette’s hand comforting on his own. “Did you hear me? I want to know why you asked that – you know what? Never mind.”

For a second, Viktor thinks Yuuri’s going to kiss him. He’s close enough – just another inch and their lips would be slotted together, sending sparks along their spines. But Viktor thinks, if he’s going to kiss me, he’s really taking his time. Because Yuuri is close, but not moving, and it’s driving the Russian mad.

So, to put them both out of their misery, though he believes it’s only his, Viktor finally jerks his head forward, and finds himself a mess of affection, dancing tongues, saliva and an oddly excessive amount of fireworks.

The first time they kissed, there wasn’t nearly as much boom to the display of sexual tension. It was nice – but it was messy. The first time they kissed, they were both drunk and giddy from the aftermath of the Grand Prix Final.

Now, barely a year later, they’re sober and giddy from the aftermath of a second ‘casual’ hook-up, lips pretty much glued together as they whimper and moan at the feeling of one another’s hands running along their bare skin below the fabric of the little clothing they were wearing.

Unlike their kisses shared before, this one isn’t heated and rushed. It’s sensual and slow, and Viktor brings his hands to cup Yuuri’s face and to bring the brunette closer. Yuuri’s hands are on Viktor’s waist and he’s pulling the Russian closer and now they’re pressed against each other and their lips are joined with tongues dancing between them.

Viktor has never felt so alive.

Now Viktor’s hand is exploring the brunettes chest and he feels it – the pebble from the beach. Attached to a string, it sits perfectly against the part of Yuuri’s chest where his heart would be and Viktor feels his eyes watering.

He decides, suddenly, that he’s in love.

He doesn’t realize he’s pulled away until he’s gasping for breath and struggling to keep tears from trickling down his cheeks. Yuuri looks at him, aghast, gives a lopsided smile. There’s a look in the brunettes eye and Viktor knows it’s one of understanding. It’s saying, you don’t need to tell me. I already know.

Viktor gives a look back. What about you?

I do.

?

hi! my name is isak, but not legally. i’ve recently realized in order to get help i’m going to need to be some sort of open, so i am now willing to share more about myself. desperate times call for desperate measures, i guess?
i am a trans boy. once i turn 18, i am going to be able to begin my transition. this, of course, won’t be possible if i do not have the funds, and money has always been a bit of an issue for my family. i am going to be doing this with my mother’s support, but my father disagrees with my decision. work is very difficult for me with my mental health, so i am going to be selling my clothes on my depop shop, and soon starting commisions!
i’m going to be consistently posting more clothes, hopefully this will help a lot! every single purchase is GREATLY appreciated, really, your help means the world to me!
here is a link to my depop shop: depop.com/pulphater
please reblog so this can be seen by more people, even if you can’t buy anything right now!

Coldness

✖ Characters/relationships: Percival Graves x Reader, Sam (the Obliviator), Abernathy

✖ Genres: Mild fluff, mention of blood (nothing graphic)

✖ Summary: You find an urgent note meant for Director Graves and you know it’s your duty to give it to him as soon as possible [Based on this imagine] @Anonymous

✖ Disclaimer: All characters are at least 21 y/o unless stated otherwise.

✖ Word count: 1665

A/N: The title is stupid, I know, but I couldn’t come up with anything better. Sometimes titles just don’t want to come to you when you need them most, right? Anyway, this fic is a bit short, I know this too, but hope you all will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Keep reading

2

Neha: So I was thinking of ordering the lobs… wait, are you seriously doing homework, right now! You need to look so I can order the most expensive thing on the menu! 

Jules: I don’t need to pay attention to someone I strongly dislike, besides, you complained about my contribution to our project so I assume you would be happy to hear I am working on it now. 

Neha: The real question is if that contribution will be noteworthy. 

Jules: Well the piece of literature you chose was about love so I don’t really know how I could write anything noteworthy about that grotesque thing. 

Neha: You know what, I’m really going to order the lobster.Just so you know, you infuriate me! 

Jules: You’re the one who wanted me to come with you. You could have taken the money instead for you meal but you also stir feelings of rage in my darkness. 


Hello folks! If any of my followers are from Northern California, you might know that our local convention Sacanime is coming up in a few months! And I would really like to go. Unfortunately things like tickets and spending money and possible cosplay are not free, and I just don’t have it right now, so I’m looking to try to meet those necessary expenses in some way.

Reminder that my commissions are always open! Get a custom piece of art for any character, ship, and fandom you want!

Alternatively, if that doesn’t interest you, maybe you’d like something from my Redbubble Shop! It’s fairly new but I’ve got some neat pride merch on there!


after

No, this isn’t the apocalypse he’d expected.

It’s quieter. And slower.

Somehow he’d always imagined himself fighting the apocalypse from the front lines (maybe he really is a narcissist). Waving his gun around, shooting at the bad guys. At the least he’d thought he would be Chicken Little, warning the world that the sky is falling.

Instead, four months in, the apocalypse mostly looks like this:

Long winter nights. The sun sets at four-thirty, by Skinner’s watch (and what, Mulder wonders, will they do for time once that dies?), and doesn’t rise again until nearly eight in the morning, and in between they sit in the darkness together.

A week into the new year they run out of the wood they’d scavenged for the stove. Byers and Skinner – Mulder’s hand is still healing – go out to chop down a tree, but when they burn the wood it lets off a stench like sulfur or rotten eggs, like dead and decaying things. It’s not just that tree. They cut branches from other trees on other properties and it’s all the same.

So they pile on more sweaters; they light a tea light and huddle around it like prehistoric man around the fire. On Scully’s suggestion they take turns reading out loud. Now it’s Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Will’s favorite, and frankly Mulder likes it because it’s thick and would take a long time to burn. He looks at a lot of things that way now. Scully’s expensive kitchen knives, Will’s baseball bat, the solid-wood kitchen table. It took the apocalypse to turn Fox Mulder into a pragmatist.

One night it’s just him and Byers left awake. They’re both silent for a while, watching the candle flicker. Mulder’s hand starts to throb. Scully’s been changing the bandages and applying various medicines two or three times a day. He doesn’t look at her face while she works. Her grimace unsettles him. It isn’t healing, but he doesn’t ask her about it. He can’t decide which is worse: the answer, or the thought of forcing her to say it out loud.

It’s the same arm he almost lost in Russia. For some reason that comforts him. He got a twenty-year loan and now the universe has come to collect.

“I never asked you about Langley,” Mulder says. Anything to distract him from the pain in his hand.

Byers’s gaze is fixed on the candle. “Don’t,” he advises.

Mulder looks away. They’ve been better than brothers to him, these three men, for decades now. He should have asked months ago. So many things have fallen by the wayside. When is the last time anyone said Matthew’s name, or Maggie’s? The cold and the hunger and the fucking unbearable pain in his hand, they’re all powerful distractions. He tells himself it’s for the best.

After a while Byers says, “It was fast,” and Mulder nods; he understands. Fast is something to be grateful for.