#a troublemaker

[foulrests]

what if i make my wizard oc based on the wizard's apprentice and he looks like this ??? what if he is the quiet dork in the corner of the room, who has the sweetest soul and the kindest eyes and is such a nerd and gets himself into trouble constantly -

[chris-continues]

Giggles nefariously. Deviously, even. Down to no good. Shenaniganary. Yes I know that’s not a real word. No it won’t interrupt my devious plans. Teehee.

[manitilde]

Stephanie Lauter, the mayor's daughter

[chloesimaginationthings]

Freddy never questioned Gregory's actions in FNAF..

[ghcstao3]

soap has known for a while now that ghost is an absolute menace. most people think the stoic lieutenant has little sense of humour beyond those one or two jokes he’ll throw out during a mission, but soap knows better.

ghost routinely does things to subtly throw people off, whether or not they’re aware of it. he’ll move things slightly over from where they normally stand, will steal food when someone’s not looking. he pulls pranks on the 141 and is capable of making an obnoxious higher-up make a fool of themselves without realizing it until it’s too late.

one of soap’s favourite schemes, once he figures it out, is the one where ghost will prop a chair against a wall, and sit like he’s overlooking a room, or a group of rookies. he’ll fold his arms over his chest, wear those extra-tinted sunglasses of his, and take a nap while everyone is none the wiser, all carefully skirting around what they’re saying and doing because it looks like the lieutenant is watching, listening.

soap discovered he did this after he’d been talking to ghost for some ten minutes straight without receiving so much as a grunt in response, only to nearly have a heart attack when he had gotten closer to check ghost was still breathing and ghost had chosen that moment to wake up. ghost thought it was hilarious, and it’s a little funny in retrospect, but now soap is a bit more hyper-vigilant when it comes to sussing out ghost’s schemes.

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny goes to a new School

So! When Danny got expelled from his High School, it wasn't really a big Suprise. He had missed for too many days or just walked out in the middle of Class, and his grades were lower than anyone else in the school. It was just a matter of time really.

When confronted by his Parents, he had just claimed that it was the constant ghost attacks getting to him (not a total lie) and that he was sorry.

Well, his parents tried to help.

After hearing about his supposed Fear of Ghosts, they decided that it was a good idea for him to go to school somewhere outside of Amity Park, so he could focus on his Schoolwork and not be distracted by the constant Attacks.

Of course no School wanted to accept a problem student like Danny, so they were forced to look into alternative schools to find one that would accept him. And they did! So they had Danny pack his bags, promise to call regularly, and shipped him off to his new School.

HIVE Academy.

[kokosovc]

passage

[cherrybeez]

my pyro :]

[hualianschild]

[ukei-ok]

salon solitaire should each wear funky little hats…

[aimfor-theheart]

mafia au with bodyguard vi i am gnawing on the bars of my enclosure

anon i’m trying to distract myself on this flight so here take this little drabble bc i can’t get bodyguard!vi out of my mind 😖

***

You laze at your vanity, languid like a cat; taking your time to get ready. Your hair is half undone. You’re still in your sheer, dark tights and bra—some jewelry hanging from your bare skin, some still scattered on the vanity in front of you. Your martini glass gleams alongside the pearls in the lowlight of your bedroom.

You’re powdering your face when someone knocks.

“Come in,” You say, despite your state of undress.

When Vi enters, you catch her eyes in the reflection of your vanity mirror.

She curses a little, averting her gaze. You smile, slow and mischievous.

“You know, usually when people are undressed, they don’t tell someone to stroll into their bedroom.” Vi remarks.

“Oh, but I knew it was you.” You respond innocently.

She huffs a bit of a laugh. You see a muscle feather in her jaw. She’s still looking away from you, but there’s something in her face—it lurks around the edges of her expression, like she’s trying to keep it hidden.

(Hunger looks good on her.)

“I’m your bodyguard, princess. I should be standing outside your door while you get ready like this.” She says and you’ve found that she likes to tell you about what she should do with you. She likes to tell you what’s proper, as you lure her into something improper.

“Oh, relax. Have a drink, would you?” You retort, lifting your martini glass to her in the mirror as if to demonstrate. You take a sip, lemon twist and flowery gin hit your tongue in a cool burst. “I wanted company while I finish getting ready.”

She lets go of a hard sigh. “You’re trying to get me killed. Your father would have my head.”

“Good thing he’s not around tonight, then.” You hum, finally returning to your preening and powdering.

“Would you at least put on some clothes for me?” Vi asks the ceiling and really it’s almost—funny, how chivalrous she’s trying to be. Gentlemanly. She still hasn’t looked your way.

Well, that won’t do.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy.” You coo, finally turning from the mirror to face her. “Not with your reputation…”

She barks out a laugh.

“I’m being paid to protect you.” Vi reiterates and you think, at this point, she’s reminding herself more than you.

“So you can’t keep me company while I get ready?” You ask sweetly.

Her eyes cut to you before she can stop herself, a flash of blue lighting. When she takes you in, it’s with a hitched breath. Her eyes skip down the curves of your body. She looks away again.

“You’re not sly, sweetheart. I know your game.” Vi says, dragging a hand through her hair, tousling it further.

You let go of an overdramatic sigh, “Fine, fine. I’ll dress.”

And with that, you saunter to your wardrobe, where the slinky little dress you’ll be wearing tonight hangs. It’s midnight purple, shimmering like dark water at night. You pull it from the hanger and carefully slip it on. But in the back, it hangs open, zipper undone.

Your eyes cut to Vi—she’s still turned away and you trace the broad lines of her back. The sliver of her tattoo that starts at the nape of her neck.

“Vi,” You say her name so lightly, “will you help me?”

When she looks at you, it’s of the open back of your dress, all your bare skin and the silk. The lacy back of your bra—the shadow of your matching panties beneath the tights. You peek over your shoulder demurely.

Vi swallows hard.

But still, she approaches. Her footsteps are slow, heavy. And then she’s behind you and you can almost feel her, feel her warmth. You stay perfectly still for her—waiting, breath held—

The touch of her fingers against the bare skin of your lower back makes your lashes flutter. She takes the zipper in hand. With her other hand, she smoothes the fabric of the dress, palm open against the curve of your waist.

Slowly, she pulls the zipper up along your spine.

When she’s done, she settles that hand on your waist, too. Holds you.

“You’re such trouble.” She murmurs, squeezes a little into the soft give of your hips.

“I just needed your help.” You say, bedroom soft.

This little, frustrated groan works its way out of her throat. Your stomach flips, thinking of what it might sound against your throat, or inner thighs. She hangs her head and for a moment, you think she might close the rest of the distance, might let her lips fall to the nape of your neck, or press her chest all against your back—

Instead, she’s gone. Hands off you, held up like she’s trying to show she’s innocent, as she takes a few steps away from you.

She sinks into one of your loveseats—the one that faces the vanity.

“Finish getting ready, princess.”

And for once, you listen to her. You finish pinning your hair. You finish your makeup and add your jewelry. You drink the rest of your martini, the warmth of alcohol hitting you sweet and hot, somewhere in your chest.

When you’re finished, you nudge your stocking clad foot in her direction.

She knows, instantly and moves to you. She eases to one knee, and takes one of your heels in hand. She pulls your foot into her lap, then she deftly eases the shoe onto your foot. She buckles the strap around your ankle dutifully. She does the other one with the same, methodical devotion.

She looks up at you from her knees, your ankle still held in her rough palm. “Happy?” She asks.

“Endlessly.” Your smile is a cat’s curve, a crescent moon.

“You’re so spoiled.” Vi says, adjusting the strap of your heel, so it sits perfectly.

“I like to be taken care of, that’s all.” You say primly.

She snorts at that, and squeezes your ankle in her strong hand. “Princess?” She says, eyes dark and imploring, looking up at you—

It’s such a good look on her. Like this, on her knees.

“Hm?”

She stands slowly, now towering over you. You slowly tip your head back to look up at her. And she even takes your chin in hand, makes you hold her eyes.

“Don’t run off tonight.” She warns.

Your smile turns sharp—eyes dancing with mischief.

“But you always did love a good chase.”

(Hunger looks good on her.)

[bestjeanistmonster]

Dc au- lil scamps on the Ark who love dirt

I imagine they’d often go to the section of the ark that is specifically for growing plants and food to play in the dirt and plant apple seeds leftover from their lunches

They are often chased out but they always manage to sneak back in

[sharkylad]

Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.

Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?

Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.

The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.

Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.

It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.

I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.

He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Gregory is a mini version of FNAF game Michael

[onionowt]

Passage guide and the lambkins

I had to redraw all the silly ones again...

[celluloidrainbow]

GENDER TROUBLEMAKERS (1993) dir. Mirha-Soleil Ross & Xanthra Mackay What happens when two Transdykes get sick of non-transsexual's uninformed representation of their sexualities and their lives? They grab their 8 millimeter home video camera, their last 200 bucks, and come up with an uncompromising in-your-face flick about their shitty relationships with gay men and their unabashed attraction to other trans women. (link in title)