A New Life

Author: dracogotgame | Word Count: 9k | Rating: PG

Summary: Harry’s deepest wish comes true one winter night. It’s nothing like he imagined but that doesn’t mean it’s not perfect.

Review: Oh gosh, this was so heartwarming and charming! All those fluttery feelings of fluff and bittersweet angst all packed into this lovely, christmassy fic.

The story introduces us to a magical creature of nature, the Frostling, who is far from human but sees Harry and wonders about his loneliness. Trying to change this, she gives Harry everything he could want - I shan’t tell you how, but the emotions he feels! He is overwhelmed and confused and joyful and falling in love in turns, but all of this eventually turns bittersweet because he doesn’t understand how he got to this point. 

This entire story is just so dang cute and gentle and lovely!

Content/Warnings: Implied MPreg


Haise and Juuzou + Cake!

Her name was Rebecca.  Well, I assumed.  She introduced herself as Becca when we typed to each other on the dating site, and again when we met at the restaurant.

“I’m Becca,” she said, sure of herself, with a boldness that brushed away any doubt. 

It was awkward, you know, getting to know someone while stressing over what to order and what to say.  Do I tell Becca how I like her necklace, even though I don’t?  Do I tell her about how it’s cold outside, and that it seems like winter is really coming early this year? 

Thankfully, I suppose, I didn’t have to worry about that; Becca’s cherry lips spewed forth rapids of speech, drowning out any worry that I might say something I would regret later on.  Her scarf hung off her neck like a ribbon—like she had just won first place for ugliest scarf and she wanted the whole world to know of her victory.  I sat, overdressed in a tie and black pants, wishing I was back home doing anything else.

Becca told me about her obnoxious roommate, her “fast-paced” consultant job, and her love of hiking.  I told her what I was going to order, after she finally took a breath to ask. 

The waitress soon returned to take down my order of the parmesan chicken and Becca’s order of some sort of salad.  The brief pause to convey our orders was a welcome respite, too quickly taken away by the waitress’s absence. 

Our food came soon enough, and at last I could fill my ears with the sound of silverware striking the chicken instead of Becca’s complaints.  Still though, I grew exasperated.

I sighed, audibly.  Becca abruptly stopped, her face quickly taking a harsh tone, condemning me for my action.  For the first time, it seemed, her eyes met mine, as she set her fork down on her stack of lettuce.

“What, am I boring you?” she scowled. 

“No, no, of course not.  I’m just tired."  I said, with a degree of honesty that surprised even myself. 

"Oh ok, well so yeah I’ve always wanted to go to the Grand Canyon but I think it would be too hot you know?  Like what do you even pack for–”

My head was pounding. 

“Becca, excuse me,” I said, reflexively picking up my plate of chicken parm and heading for the exit at a deliberate pace.  I gave the waitress two twenties on the way out and stepped into the cold night air.

I ventured over to the edge of the parking lot, and after finding a suitable cement parking slab, (what are those called?) took a seat.

The chicken tasted better cold, fresher certainly, and I enjoyed every bite.

“Do you do this often?” came a somewhat recognizable voice from behind me. 

It was the waitress.  “Believe it or not, this is the second time I’ve left a date to eat my chicken parm in the parking lot,” I admitted. 

It was the third.

She laughed.  “Well, we kind of need the plate back,” she said, motioning towards it.

“Oh, of course,” I blushed, handing it to her.

“Thanks, and if I may,” she paused and I told her to go on, “It was pretty rude of you to leave the date early.  Even if you didn’t like her, you shouldn’t have left like that.”

She was right.  I needed to stop leaving dates early to finish my chicken parms in parking lots. 

“It tastes better in the cold night air,” I said.  The words slipped out of my mouth; I knew they were ridiculous, and I instantly feared she would judge me.

“Oh, you’re definitely right,” she said, “All poultry tastes better cold." 

"Yeah I know!  You ever just eat your frozen dinners…”

“…right out of the freezer?" 

I nodded enthusiastically.  We were made for each other.  I had found the woman of my dreams. 

I proposed seven months later and she said no, but when I proposed two months after that she said yes.  We were so happy together.  We got a dog named Skippy who was really good at catching frisbees.  Like really good.

Stark Reunion Be Like
  • Sansa: Well it's just us to hold the Stark legacy now, Jon. And by that I mean just me, really, since you're a bastard and all.
  • Jon: Harsh.
  • Sansa: Deal with it, Brood Boy, we're all that's left of the Sta-
  • Bran: (thrown into room) WAIT! He's not even a Stark! He's a Targaeryn!
  • Sansa: ...
  • Jon: ...
  • Bran: (crawling forward) No really, I saw it while grabbing this tree...
  • Bran: I was trained by the Three-Eyed Raven, and Hodor helped me escape the Night King, and oh! Uncle Benjen's still fighting on the other side of the Wall!
  • Servant: Lady Sansa I have more missives from FUCK ME RUNNING IS THAT BRAN
  • Bran: what
  • Arya: (rips off servant face) BRAN OH MY GOD I'M SO HAPPY I DON'T HAVE TO AVENGE YOUR DEATH!!
  • Jon:
  • Sansa:
  • Bran:
  • Arya: oh, yeah, sorry, trained to be assassin, face-swap-thingy, list of people to kill. Blah blah backstory.
  • Sansa: How long have you BEEN here?!
  • Arya: Couple of weeks now. Your security is SHIT I've been watching you sleep and could have killed you a dozen times over. Can I have my old room back, btw?
  • Jon: I swear to whatever messed-up being brought me back from the dead, if one more of us comes out of the bloody woodwork I'll...
  • Lady Stoneheart: Yoooooooooooooooooo

(Credit summer-paradise-starvizz)

If you feel safe enough to do so and the person in question has nothing preventing them from their ability to do so,

Call out guys who grow up with the luxury of having women do all of the feminized work in their households, who devalue the labor as they themselves do not have to engage in it.

Call out guys who become shocked and appalled when asked to clean dirty dishes by women who have been cleaning up after them for the duration of their lives.

Call out guys who decide to clean only the dishes they themselves use, when living in a household where women cleaned their dishes indiscriminately. 

She’ll come into your life soft and quiet, like a winter storm, and lift you from the ground like she’s handling fine china. She will pick out the glass shards pricking your body and marring your skin, and she’ll bandage your wounds with care. She’ll then wipe all the soot and dirt from your cheeks as you nudge your face into her tender hands. Finally, she’ll reach her fingers, ever so softly into your chest, and warm your heart from the inside out until it beats anew.
—  tell-my-mother-not-to-worry, A Thank You Letter to E.