the midnight men

One of my favorite things about fairy tail is the men’s collectively bizzar fashion sense.

like,

Dude

Bro

The fuck are you wearing?

The fuck is this?

What is on your shoulder, Gajeel?  The fuck is that made of, feathers? From what?

Why is the armor only on your shins?

Why is your shirt only sleeves?

Are those pants really necessary? Or functional?

This whole outfit is a shit post.

Seriously, is this supposed to be a vest or a jacket?

Bickslow has two different versions of this shit

additionally, Bickslow has tattoos on both his face and tongue, which seems questionable and excessive, but I digress.

What era do you think this is, Freed?

Literally, no one questioned this as casual, everyday wear.

I mean, COME ON!

Then there’s Gray who can’t keep his shirt on, and Laxus who can’t put his arms in his damn sleeves, but this post seems long enough.

2

a little taako

Breakfast In Bed

A fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration


Penny

I’m not sure exactly what wakes me, whether it’s the smell of something burning or the string of curses muffled by my bedroom door. Whichever it is, it has me out of bed in record time and racing toward the smell, my mind supplying all the worst possible explanations.  The flat’s on fire and Simon’s trapped, we won’t be able to get out because something’s blocking the door…

           I stumble to a halt when I reach the kitchen, expecting sky-high flames, orange and red and black smoke and…

           Simon is in front of the stove, coughing and swearing and pacing around, wearing a polka-dotted apron and the biggest oven mitts I’ve ever seen.

           When he sees me, he stops pacing and his face falls.

           “Morning, Penny,” he mumbles, staring at the floor.

           I make my cautious way toward him.  To my relief there doesn’t seem to be anything on fire, but the kitchen is a total disaster.  There’s about five oranges scattered across the counter, and there seems to be less juice in the pitcher than… everywhere else.  Flour dusts every surface, leaving white handprints on half the cupboards, and there are at least three empty eggshells in the sink.  Why he put them in the sink rather than the bin escapes me. When I reach him I find what appears to have once been an egg in a skillet on the stove, accompanied by a blackened piece of bread in another pan.

           I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

           “Don’t look in the oven,” Simon mutters with a sigh.

           “Simon,” I manage, “what is all this?”

           He meets my eye with a wince.  “Happy Valentine’s Day?”

           I shake my head.  Nothing around me makes sense.

           “I was going to surprise you, alright?” Simon confesses.  “I know I have Baz and you have Micah, but there’s something to be said for friendships, too, and I thought it might be nice for you to wake up and have breakfast in bed and biscuits and tea and -”

           As if on cue, the teakettle starts whistling.  Simon rushes to take it off the heat and pour some water into my favourite mug, which he’s prepared with my favourite tea.  At least he got that part right.

           “You did all this for me?” I gape, taking the mug from him.

           He opens his mouth to answer and the oven starts beeping.  Leaning down with a grimace, Simon cracks the oven door and a wave of smoke hits him in the face, setting him off coughing.  I put down my tea and race to turn off the oven, extinguishing the heat on the stovetop as an afterthought.  Simon manages to stop coughing and leans his forehead on the fridge in shame.

           “I’m sorry, Pen,” he groans, “I’ll clean this all up, I swear.”

           I don’t bother to say anything.  I just slip between him and the fridge and throw my arms around his neck, not caring how much flour I’m probably getting on my pajamas.

           “This is so sweet, Simon,” I mumble into his shirt.  “Thank you so much.”  He hugs me hard and warm, like he’s thanking me for something, too.

           It’s then that there’s a knock at the door, followed by the soft creak of someone letting themselves in.  Simon lets go of me just as Baz appears with a box from the bakery down the street. He stares at us.  We stare at him.  His eyes are as wide as dinner plates.

           Right on cue, the smoke alarm goes off.

           It’s like the air has been let out of a balloon and we all start to smile at the same time, and then our smiles become giggles, and then our giggles become fits of laughter.

           Baz wipes a tear from his eye.  “Do I want to know?”

           “Probably not.”

Me going on a date...
  • Mom: so that nice boy that asked you out did you say yes?
  • Me: no hes not a voltage man.
  • Mom: *face palms* can you just try a real man? literally!
  • me: *goes on date*
  • Guy: so you wanna hook up?
  • Me: no say "can i make you mine"
  • Guy : what?
  • Me: just say it!
  • Guy: okay... can i make you mine?
  • Me: nope you don't say it like Yuma.
  • Guy: what?
  • Me: bye. *walks home and is playing butler until midnight*
When i'm playing a voltage game in public
  • Me: *walks in to public bathroom*
  • Me: *goes in stall* *starts giggling and squealing*
  • Girl 1 : *walks in bathroom* *hears me making noises*
  • Girl 2: * walks in bathroom * *hears me making noises to*
  • girl 1: is she masturbating?
  • girl 2: maybe shes taking a really hard shit and it hurts so much shes laughing? ive been there before...
  • Me: oh soryu not here....
  • Girl 1: um.. ill touch up some other time..
  • Girl 2: I can hold it...

Neck Deep//Threat Level Midnight

(My edit,not my photo)

combeferre in a pencil skirt was the first of my recent doodlequests! this one’s going out to apollowned​~

I added bonus perv!courf. not sure i’m happy with his char design but for a doodle at 2 in the morning it isn’t bad. might turn it from a doodle into a finished piece, please let me know if this is relevant to your interests