you do not fit there i'm sorry

New Fic - If The Shirt Fits

Title: If The Shirt Fits
Author: Bixgirl1  
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4k
Summary: Draco has a collection of sheer shirts. One night, Harry notices.
Content: Um, explicit sexual content. Idek anymore. LOLOL.
Author’s Notes: Inspired by @camael-fanart‘s amazing piece that I legit couldn’t stop staring at until I was actually a little ashamed of myself. lolol. This is basically just smutty smut. Like, a lotta smut, and I’m so sorry big hugs okay now bye!
*hides*
Thanks so, so much to the gorgeous (she is, she really is) @l0vegl0wsinthedark for the beta!!!

Excerpt under the cut:

Keep reading

DANCE MAJORS AU. (Part 1, Part 1.5, Part 2, Part 2.5, Part 3 finale)
Hip-Hop dancer Keith in full body glory during his audition in Part 1. (¬ ‿ ¬)

Ballet Team Head (a.k.a. Keith’s crush): State your name and desired group.
Keith: Keith Kogane. The Street Team. Redbubble Shop

4

The stages of saying ❝I love you❞ (Alec Version)

  • Angelica, the only sober one: This stuff is basically rat poison. Everybody's wasted.
  • Alexander: (crying) You didn't even know one thing and he asked me the whole thing and I didn't even do it once-
  • Hercules: I'm like an elephant, okay, it's like if I walk into a room it's like okay, he's in there-
  • John: I'm not gonna tell you that that bitch over there, I don't have to tell, I mean I'm not gonna brag-
  • Peggy: (laughing hysterically) Baba booey. (more laughing)
  • Jefferson: Turn this music down! (singing unintelligibly)
  • Lafayette: (speaking rapid-fire French, mildly angry)
  • Madison: (laughing uncontrollably) (coughing fit) (takes another drink)
  • Washington: (happily dancing to rap music with a funny hat on)
7

ORGANIZATION XIII WEEK - DAY VII: FREE DAY

the organization + major arcana // partial remake of this

An addition to my earlier post:

Consider Hiyori being fiercely loyal to Trash Dad after becoming his Regalia.

He kills her and then before even cleaning her blood off his hands, presents himself to her spirit as someone who just killed a phantom to save her life. He acts like he’s her divine rescuer and gives her a name with a beautiful meaning, like Hikari or something. He convinces her that she would’ve died had it not been for him, and naturally, she is beyond grateful.

Now he presents Yato as a horrible enemy who will stop at nothing to kill him, and Yukine as Yato’s deadly Blessed Regalia who has slain thousands. He paints a picture of Yato being absolutely despicable, someone who is the antithesis of everything Hiyori believes in, and Yukine as his loyal enabler. Of course Hiyori believes him, and once the battle starts, she’ll stop at nothing to eliminate these threats to the man who saved her life.

And Yato and Yukine know the truth, but are powerless to reveal it because they can’t kill Hiyori. Hell, they can’t even say her name.

She’ll believe to the very end that Trash Dad gave her a place to belong and a person to be, not knowing that he had ripped those same things away from her in her past life.


[Bonus: Hiyori’s weapon form is a pair of boxing gloves that give Trash Dad a really powerful punch and also make him more agile.]

yes our teeth and ambitions are bared….

Spideypool Proposal
  • Wade Wilson: [goes down on one knee, and presents the finest of candy ring pops] Peter, will you marry me?
  • Peter Parker: Aren't rings supposed to be like 10% of your salary?
  • Wade Wilson: I stopped killing people with your help, so I am officially out of the mercenary business. In fact, I don't even have this month's rent.
  • Peter Parker: [starts tearing up] We're both so poor.
  • Wade Wilson: Are you okay?
  • Peter Parker: I'm just a little upset.
  • Wade Wilson: [stands up] Why??? Did I do something wrong? If you need more time, that's okay!!! I'm sorry for rushing things.
  • Peter Parker: No, it's just-- [gets down on one knee] You beat me to the proposal. [presents a plastic Spider-Man ring]
  • Wade Wilson: [gingerly takes ring and puts it on his pinky since that's the only finger that it barely fits] You've made me the happiest man alive, I'll keep this until it breaks! Which might not be too long because I will probably lose my hand during a fight or some shit. [pulls him into a hug]
  • Peter Parker: [smiles] Don't worry, I have more. [pulls out a whole bag]
  • And I'm sorry, but I'll probably eat yours when the ramen supply runs out.
  • Wade Wilson: You have a problem. But I got you covered, babe. [pulls out bag of ring pops] And they're all red.
  • Peter Parker: [smiles] I love you. [pulls him into a kiss]
10
aftg characters as bo burnham lyrics
  • neil: [crying] eat a dick, bitch! eat a fucking dick, bitch!
  • riko: you're fucked! (totally fucked!)
  • andrew: i saw an old man slip and fall; what a fucking idiot
  • aaron: give me a chance to show you what it's like, to be a straight white male
  • kevin: well according to my calculations, i'm sorry just let me run this again, you're a giant pussy
  • nicky: if i'm gay, hey god, strike me dead [sudden coughing and choking fit]
  • matt: i'm really fucking deep bro, so deep that it's called...."hashtag deep"
  • dan: do you fucking think i want a messy burrito? nobody wants a messy burrito
  • renee: i like soda, where's the soda? am i the only fucking person here that likes soda?
  • allison: you might think the perfect girl only exists in your mind but she's real, but she died last week
  • wymack: i want to have a daughter so that there will finally be someone around who can fit their hand into a pringles can

anonymous asked:

Prompt: When Scully thinks she's dying of cancer she asks Mulder to make love to her because she doesn't want Ed Jerse to be the last person she ever slept with.

Tried another angst piece. Probably just so I could tag @always-angst! It kinda ended up as a post-ep for “Elegy”. 

Also tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic

If she could, she’d close her eyes, pretend not to see. She dares a few glances in the rearview mirror as she drives and there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just light and cars, traffic and life. At home she leaves lights off in hope of being left alone, of escaping. But the shadows dance around her and when she walks into the bathroom, despite the absence of light, she swears she sees Harold Spuller’s face again among the ghostly shades. Gasping in anger she throws her hairbrush against the mirror. The glass splinters at the edge but refuses to break apart.

Scully knows she can’t stay in her apartment tonight. She doesn’t think, grabs her key and leaves. Outside the cold air breathes life back into her. She gets in her car, still refuses to think about it, puts the key in the ignition and steers her car towards the only place she wants to be right now. 

At 1 am the knock on Mulder’s door sounds intrusive, noisy. Scully startles, wonders if this was the right decision. It doesn’t take long for Mulder to come to the door and her doubts disappear. His eyes are clear, attentive; he wasn’t asleep. The expression on his face changes from surprised to happy and finally to concerned.

“Scully? Is everything all right?” No, she wants to say. Nothing is all right. She’s dying; she feels it deep in her bones, cutting through her skin. The revelation, even just to herself, makes her vulnerable; tears spring to her eyes, hot and angry. Looking at Mulder, though, his concerned eyes, his hand that’s suspended in the air, frozen in time, uncertain if she wants him to touch her, energy flows through her.

“Scully, please talk to me.“ 

"Can I come in?" She came here without agenda. Her only need was to get away from the pictures in her mind, from the truth lurking behind every corner.

"Of course.” Mulder opens the door to her and she slips past him. The TV is on but muted. Scully expects to see some cheap skin flick and not a colorful Disney movie. She turns to him.

“Yeah, I thought I should broaden my horizons.” Mulder tells her, chuckling. He picks up loose papers and magazines off his couch to make space for her. Scully, however, doesn’t sit. 

“Do you want anything to drink or…” Mulder trails off. 

“No, I-” But she can’t say it. If she tells him what she keeps seeing, what keeps following her, then she’s accepting it. Believing it. She’s dying. She looks at Mulder, wonders if he can tell what she’s thinking. Can he see it in her eyes? Is he too in denial about this? She can’t stay in the shadows forever, alone, hiding. 

“If it’s about what I said earlier, Scully-”

“It’s not, Mulder. Or maybe it is. You told me that if I didn’t tell you the truth I was working against you and myself. I- when I sat in my car earlier, when I got home, I saw…”

“What did you see, Scully?”

“Harold Spuller. I saw him. I don’t know what to believe or maybe… I refuse to believe what it means but Mulder,” she sighs, swallowing the tears that still threaten to spill, “I couldn’t, I didn’t - don’t - want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone, Scully,” he closes the distance between them and crushes her to him. His hands roam over her back before they settle on his spot, right over her tattoo. The contact, even through her clothes, burns her. Reminds her. She closes her eyes, unafraid, and buries her face in his chest. His scent, like earth, like home, covers her in safety. “You’ll never be alone. You just have to let me in.” Mulder’s voice tickles her skin, her ear and she squirms in his arms. Rubs her body against him slowly, carefully, just trying it out. Her own hands take liberties, wander over his spine and he sighs into her hair. She wants this. This need, raw and urgent, surprises her, tackles her and makes her weak in the knees. But she’s in Mulder’s arms, safe and sound. Scully’s done this before, recently. Threw herself into the arms of a man, a stranger, to feel alive, to forget. Today she wants to forget again; about her mortality, about what happened months ago in another bedroom. 

“Mulder.” She murmurs his name into his chest, feels his strong heart beat against her lips. 

“I’m here, Scully." 

"I have a question…a request, really.” There’s nothing to lose now. Yet everything to gain. Mulder loosens his hold on her so that he can look into her eyes. They’re soft, wet with unshed tears, glancing at her, willing to give her just about anything.

“I want to… need you to make love to me." He furrows his brows and bites his lip in search of the right words. She sees his answer before he utters a single syllable.

"Scully.” Her name is a sigh, pure desperation.

“Mulder, please.” She kisses his chest, longs to taste him. She doesn’t beg, not never, but tonight she’ll do anything. When she dies, there is no if, she doesn’t want her last memory of love, of skin rubbing against skin, to be of Ed Jerse. A throw away fuck, a one-night stand, that was never meant to mean anything.

“I- I can’t, Scully. I’m not saying goodbye to you like that. I can’t.” He buries his face in her hair as his arms wrap around her so tightly that he almost takes her breath away.

“Mulder, I need this. We both need it. I can’t… the last time I… that can’t be the last time.” She strains to get to his lips but he stops her. Puts a finger on her lips to silence her and her fears.

“It won’t be the last time. There’s plenty of time left.” Tears stream down her face. There’s not. Why can’t he see that? His finger starts tracing her lips, the rough texture of his skin kissing her. 

“There’ll be another time for us, Scully. I promise you. This is not it.” His voice is insistent and Scully closes her eyes. She doesn’t believe in premonitions. Seeing the dead girl, seeing Harold Spuller, what if there’s another explanation? Mulder’s finger on her lips, her body in his arms, her heart in his hands. His voice in her ear. All she’s got to do is believe him. Trust him. 

“You promise?” She whispers against his finger. 

“I promise, Scully. I promise.” She believes him.

3

“No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for friends. What does that mean—'tame’?”

“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. It means to establish ties.“

”‘To establish ties’?“

"Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world …”

  • michael: how do you fit 71 people in my car?
  • jeremy: what kind of question is that? wouldn’t that be impossible? do you even know 71 people? i mean why can’t they just--
  • michael: 2 in the front, we 69 in the back
  • jeremy: --uH whAt i mEAn eR HUH tAke pUbLIc tRaNspORt???!!?

anonymous asked:

What made you decide to do the no cut confessional video? Not that it was bad or anything like that, I'm just curious what made you do something different? (Also sorry if someone already asked this)

I wanted to try something different, and I felt like I had a good topic that would fit the format. Interestingly, it was not less work. The edit, obviously, was very easy, but the ‘writing’ took just as long and the filming took several hours.

I also felt like I had a made a lot of videos about the world lately, but not very many in which I talked about my own issues. I think talking about my issues is helpful because people realize that we all have them, and also I do occasionally like to remind people that I am a human. Otherwise I see a lot more vilifying or…whatever the opposite of vilifying is. Hero worship?

So I wanted to break down some of the barriers…at least for one video.