olicity-beautiful-dreamer asked:

"Please tell me this isn't what it looks like." :)

“Ummm…”

“Felicity, you can’t let the kids down here. It’s dangerous,” Oliver argued. 

“Oliver I’m just using the medical stuff, we were out of bandages at home. Andie fell and scraped open her leg while her and Conner were playing outside,” Felicity replied calmly as she cleaned up the blood on her daughter.

“And, they’ve been instructed not to touch anything,” Felicity directed at Conner who was getting precariously close to some explosive arrowheads that were sitting out. Oliver put a hand on each of his shoulders and steered him over to a chair. 

“Hey Mommy, do you think I’ll get a scar?” Andie asked as Felicity bandaged her leg.

“Probably not love bug, it wasn’t that bad of a cut,” Felicity replied and was surprised to see disappointment on her daughter’s face. 

“I wanted a scar so I could match Daddy,” Andie pouted as Felicity lifted her down from the table. 

Felicity saw Oliver cringe out of the corner of her eye. While the sentiment was cute, neither of them wanted their children to ever have to experience pain that would leave a permanent mark. 

Oliver walked over and crouched down to look Andie in the eye, “Hey, you don’t need a scar to match me. We have the same color eyes and we can both do that thing with our eyebrows…”

Andie quirked one eyebrow and became the spitting image of her father, “Whatever you say Daddy. Can I have some ice cream to make my leg feel better?”

Oliver laughed and scooped her up his arms, “No denying that you’re equally your mother.”

Send me a sentence and I’ll write you 6 (or 7… or 8 or…) more :)

a study on monsters. 

soft hands, beating heart.
electric shocks and stitches. 
burned in a windmill.
“monster, monster, monster.”

drifted the lake for long hours.
peaceful eyes and peaceful heart,
watched peaceful waters.
“monster, monster, monster.”

the ghost in your walls,
stepping on your shadow.
the collar will break if it’s pulled too much. 
“monster, monster, monster.”

—  maybe i’m a monster but at least i’m not yours // q.a
That's All There Is To It

Fluff! I think? Maybe this counts as fluff?
Effectively a continuation to:  Aftermath of the Arishok Which I have been meaning to write for a while. [See I do get around to the things, but it takes me a while!] 

Fenris lingered in the doorway to Kestrel’s room, hesitating, watching. Torn between wanting to enter and make himself known and wanting to flee, leaving his dignity intact. Torn between the desire to pull Anders away from her and the knowledge that Kestrel was her own person. That she owed him no loyalty.

The scene before him was deceptively peaceful.

Had Kestrel’s body not been a mosaic if healing wounds and ugly, mottled bruises it would have almost appeared domestic. Anders, sitting on Kestrel’s bed with her standing in her small clothes and a long cotton shirt, holding herself up with her hand on one pillar of her bed. The mages hands rested at her belly, healing magic glowing from underneath her palms.

Had the healing magic not been there it would have looked like a father feeling the belly of his wife, feeling for the first signs of life.

He was grateful that was not the case. Yet anger and jealousy still rose inside Fenris’s gut, a swirling tempest and making him feel sick. He felt the poison, like bile, rising up his throat and fought to keep it down. Fought to retain his calm.

They looked so… perfect together.

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she has galaxies inside of her,
a whole universe contained within herself,
self-sufficient and transcendentally graceful.

hands worn away by too hard of work,
eyes glowing with the joy of beauty,
nothing can touch her until she lets it.

you have never met someone,
so in love with the very poetry of the world,
with the simple beauty of life.

she adores art in every form,
bright pastel paintings and clear voices raised into loving notes,
words spread out like dancers on a page.

the scorpion zodiac,
a passionate bravery inside of her,
railing against the system.

her heart is golden inside of her,
stars running through her veins,
pulsing in her body.

she is art herself.

—  art; l.m.

Lucy had finally admitted to herself that she had  a crush on her next door neighbor Natsu Dragneel. He’s a few years older than her so she didn’t get to see much of him at school. But seeing him mow his lawn or go off for a jog, shirtless of course, made everything better. Or even watching him play with his younger (adopted) brother made her heart flutter. NO SHE WAS NOT A STALKER! She just happened to look out her window at the right times.

She would never forget when he rescued her when they were younger…

“Lucy, Lucy, ugly like a goosey,” the girls in her grade chanted.

She sat on the ground with her eyes covered by her knees which were pulled to her chest 

“You’re so weird!”

“Yea and your eyes are way to big for you fat face!” 

The group of girls snickered while pointing at the crying girl.

“OI! WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?!” a voice rang out.

She heard the girls run off but felt someone staring at her.

Peeking up through her bangs she was met by curious onyx eyes staring at her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She shook her head earning a sigh from the boy crouching in front of her. 

“Why do girls care so much what they look like?”

She shrugged and heard him chuckle, “If it makes any difference you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

She lifted her face from her knees, “Really?” she questioned taking in his tan skin and pink hair.

“Yea, you’re eyes look like chocolate! And your face kind of looks like a barbie but not so creepy. And your hair looks like really pretty noodles!” he said with a grin, she supposed this was his way of complimenting and he just looked so happy, that she couldn’t help but smile back.

He pulled her up by her hand and as gently as he could wiped the tears off her face. 

“Well I gotta go see ya later Luigi!” he said waving as he ran off.

She let out a deep sigh as she reread the same page for the fifth time, since she kept getting lost in her thoughts. They hadn’t talked much in High School beside awkward chit chat and him smiling at her whenever they made eye contact.

Now they were in College and he had started eating lunch with her everyday. She was still to scared to make the relationship anything more…

Suddenly a bunch of flowers were shoved in her face, startled she looked up to see…Natsu’s younger brother?

“Lucy my brother Natsu won’t stop talking about you but he’s to big of a wimp to talk to you so will you—”

“ROMEO!”

Natsu appeared out of no where it seemed, grabbing Romeo into a choke hold. 

“Listen I don’t know what this knucklehead’s been saying– OW BITING ISN’T ALLOWED!”

She raised an eyebrow at the two boys now wrestling on her lawn.

“Natsu likes Lucy, Natsu likes Lucy–”

“Shut it twerp or I’ll tell Wendy about your secret admirer letters!”

Romeo got up and ran off and while Natsu stood up glaring at the young boy.

He stuck his tongue out at him before slowly turning towards Lucy, and she watched in amusement as his face reddened.

“Sorry about that he’s had it out for me since I tripped him in front of his crush,” he chuckled.

“Ah young puppy love is so cute,” she grinned.

An uncomfortable silence over took the two.

“DUDE ASK HER OUT ALREADY!” his father Igneel shouted from the window, 

“Well–um Lucy I know we’ve only known each other for the past few months but I remember you from when we were little and I have been to scared to talk to you since.”

“QUIT BABBLING BOY! I DIDN’T RAISE YOU TO BE A WIMP!”

“DAD!” 

She covered her mouth to try to keep from laughing at the poor guy.

“Anyways with that introduction I was wondering if you would maybe want to go out sometime?” he said looking at her with a very hopeful face.

“That would be wonderful Natsu,” she replied with a smile.

“Really? Hot damn! Er I mean Heck Darn?”

“Well I do have free coupons for McDonald’s if you’d like to go there for lunch?”

“HECK YEA!”

She laughed and blushed when she noticed he had leaned in closer to her face, “Yep still the same chocolate eyes.”

She smiled, feeling the blush spread across her face.

“Ya know I’ve always wondered if your lips tasted like strawberries,” he said wriggling his eyebrows at her.

“YOU TWO GET A MOVE ON IT! I WANT GRAND CHILDREN BEFORE I GET TO OLD!”

“DAD!”

Fever

This was meant to be something short and fluffy for fatally-procrastinating​ because she is sick and we were talking about needing more fluff in our lives. It ended up being a lot  longer than I anticipated.
But still fluffy I hope!
Featuring her Warden, Aeryn Cousland and Alistair. [Apologies for any discrepancies with their relationship/progression  etc. X.x;;]


“Must you be so infuriating?” Morrigan’s angry growl caused conversation across camp to stop and all eyes to turn to her. Her body was rigid as she loomed over Alistair and Aeryn who sat by the fire warming themselves. “You are making me sick.”

“You know what you need, Morrigan?” Alistair peered up at her, smiling, “you need some love in your life.” He squeezed Aeryn’s hand on his knee, clutching her smaller fingers within his. Turning his head, he nudged his fellow Warden and kissed the side of her temple. “It does wonders for the soul.”

Aeryn glimpsed Morrigan, saw the corner of her right eye twitch.

“Oh, I forgot!” Alistair feigned ignorance, “you don’t have one.”

“Ugh.” Sneered Morrigan, “I had hoped to talk to you,” she jerked her finger at Aeryn, “without this lummox present. Come to me when you have extracted yourself from his stifling embrace.” The witch turned with a flourish and marched across the camp towards her own secluded tent and fire a few paces away. Far enough so she didn’t have to communicate with the others if she didn’t want to.

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I guess  it is quite true that within a year, a person can change drastically.“ she said.

"They change into this person that you cannot even imagine. The part that you used to see in them vanished. Vanished feelings and an overwhelming void now fills the closeness that you once had with this person.  And you try so goddamn hard to pull that person back in, to keep that person close.  Ironically, this person tries to break free from your grasp - pushing you away further and further and further. Until they become a blurry  silhouette among the people you lost too.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

She looked at him.  Tears visible in her eyes and while she was holding back her tears, she said “Because that so called person is you. No matter how hard I try, it is still enough. We’re still slowly drifting and you’re not doing anything about it. Goddamn it, please give me a sign that you still want me in your life.

—  lm // lines from a book i will never write

if someone asked me why i have such an aversion,
to loving people,
my automatic answer would be that i am afraid.

loving people is quickening,
it’s maddening and all-consuming,
it makes me feel so full that i believe i could never need to eat again.

it is the completion of truly loving someone that scares,
keeping me up late at night even when they don’t,
keeping me constantly terrified.

you love them,
and then in an instant,
they leave.

gone.

if the number of people that you had loved,
was your atomic number on the table of life,
i would have a three about my initials.

i have felt that all-encompassing,
addicting love for about just three people in my life,
to this day i worry that they would leave if they had the chance.

be it because they have done it before,
or because i’m scared and irrational,
i worry that one day i will wake up and they will be gone.

the hardest part of loving someone,
is the helplessness of it.

i will love every piece of someone,
never leave them hold them close adore them,
but in the end they will still be able to leave me.

—  to love someone; l.m.

shakespeareia asked:

I was thinking about you and your blog today (don't ask, you're like the secret best friend I'll probably never meet. :p) and it occurred to me that if you published "GI Joes and 2 AM Diners" as you're considering, you could probably beat out Fifty Shades of Crap in a landslide. Think about it - if that thread concerning EL James' rise to wealth and fame is at all true, you'd have one easy time of it - once it's been published, all you'd have to do is make a post, linking your followers to the

(cont.) Amazon page, and we’d do the rest. Waaaaaaaaay to many Stucky fans have your back to let this go by. It would spread anyway even to the people who aren’t following you currently - can you imagine the signal boost? And after that, come the people who would like to see LGBTQ romance gain a larger and more equal niche in the literary market, who would sweep this thing along like wild fire. But of course, we can’t forget the legions of people across the world who despise that crap series and


Oh my god… Okay, I saw this message last week and I had every intention of replying but then stupid life happened and I’ve been thinking of this message every day since. I was actually so touched by it that I read it out loud to my mother and got all choked up lol (For the record, my mom says a big THANK YOU to all of you who’ve been supporting me and encouraging me so generously lately; for showing me kindness and helping me during this rough time, as you all have been for the last 4 months or so. You all have no idea how helpful you’ve all been to me. <3)

I’m not even going to lie, shakespeareia, this is one of the most motivational things I’ve ever received. And while I could only hope that G.I. Joes and 2AM Diners would be as well received as you believe it’d be, it’s always impossible to tell. However, your faith in the story - and in me - blows my mind and really touches me, so thank you with all my heart. No matter what, what I can say for sure is that E.L. James’s behavior towards the fandom and the people who supported her in her publication journey was downright disgusting, and if I ever got lucky enough to get my story published, I wouldn’t do what that douchecanoe did lol I’d probably devote an entire page of the book just to thanking all of you for inspiring me, keeping my spirits up, and encouraging me - even if the book only ever wound up being read by, like, 5 people and that was it xD

Anyways, I’m rambling. My point is, thank you so, so much. I will probably wind up coming back and re-reading these words whenever I need a pick-me-up, haha. They really and truly mean the world and more to me. <3

What do you see in me?“

I see the vastness of oceans inside of you, a mind fashioned out of titanium; bulletproof and radiant. I see the beauty and the misery of a God etched upon the worry lines and craters on your face. I see a mosaic of stars in your smile, and a laugh that can control heartbeats. I see cold nights spent in your arms laughing about trivial things, I see spending mornings wrapped up in the covers with you and evenings spent staring up at the sun setting. I see passionate fights that lead to shouting and crying in the middle of the night, I see saltwater tears and puffy cheeks, eyes like ghosts; I see breaking down, falling to my knees. I see you holding my hands as you whisper soothing things and kisses like butterfly wings passed on behind tired eyelids. I see the world grow larger, ringing louder, moving faster than before when I’m with you. I see the universe in a simple sentence that falls out of your lips. Does that answer your question?

—  don’t ask me what I see in you. I could go on all day long

smoaksignal asked:

Oliver... are you drunk?

“Whattttt????” Oliver responded as he stumbled across the living room.

“We’re now on stage 3 of Oliver’s drunkenness: confusion,” Thea spoke up from her place on the couch, “First is enthusiasm. Second is sadness. We should be moving on to clingy-ness in about 3, 2, 1….”

“Feellliicityyy, come cuddle with me,” Oliver announced as he plopped down onto the floor. 

Felicity raised an eyebrow at him and turned her attention back to Thea, “Okay… but why is he drunk?”

“He mentioned something about you and Mr. Palmer being out for dinner…”

Felicity rolled her eyes, “Oliver you are so ridiculous. We were having a business meeting. You could have come but I figured you would rather go on patrol than sit and listen to Ray ramble on for three hours.”

Oliver tilted his head up to look at her with his puppy eyes and she sighed, “How were you ever a party boy? My grandmother can hold her liquor better than you.”

She reached out a hand and helped him off the floor, “Thanks for keeping an eye on him Thea.”

“Ahhh no problem, it was entertaining. I forgot how fun it is to get him drunk when he’s being moody about you. Next time you’re going out with one of your exes let me know. By the way, stage 4 is sleepiness so I’d get him tucked into bed before he passes out,” Thea replied as she slid off the couch and headed towards her bedroom. 

Felicity kicked off her shoes and pushed Oliver in the direction of his bedroom, “Okay, because I love you I will forgive you for being oversensitive about Ray and I. Let’s go cuddle.”

Send me a line and I’ll write you 6 (or 7 or 8 or ….) more :)

anonymous asked:

grind on daddys thigh and make you cum blurb?

Niall bites his lip, “Do you want me to please you?” His brow rises as he speaks.

“Yes, please.”  You plead to him, your eyes big and round.

Niall could hear your pleads. But he wasn’t going to give into you.

He pulls you to him and searches your eyes, “I love you.” He murmurs softly and seriously, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“I love you.” You say softly as well, leaning in to close the distance between your lips. Your lips mold together perfectly with his for a moment, soft sighs coming from both of you.

He pulls away, “Well, daddy isn’t ready to fuck you yet. I need to make sure you’re properly ready.” He says seriously, kissing under you chin, knowing it was your favorite spot. Niall ignored the ache in his balls and the pressure in his dick.

Niall grips your hips tightly and shifts you so you’re standing on the floor. He pulls off your panties, tossing them aside. He pulls you back to him and makes you straddle his thigh.

His leg starts to move slowly against you. His leg pressing harder as he pulls your hips down.

His thigh was hard against your clit and it felt fucking amazing. You close your eyes and start to grind your hips in rhythm with his movements, moaning.

Niall starts to suck at the flushed, soft, flesh of your tits before taking your harden nipples into his mouth. His other hand moving to pinch and pull at the unattended nipple.

A loud gasp comes from you and press yourself harder against his thigh. Your gasps start to increase as you felt your orgasm building.

Niall switched tits and kept his leg moving. This was unfair, you wanted to scream but a moan escaped instead.

“Oh fuck, daddy.” You whimper out, your hands resting on his shoulders and your start to dig your  nails in.

“Don’t you even think about cumming yet baby.” Niall growls at you against your chest.

You whine as you quicken your movements on his leg without a second thought, wanting that rush of relief and that pleasure.

“My cock hurts for you. My cock wants you.” He says the words in my ear with a dirty whisper.

“I want daddy’s cock.” You whine out again, gasping as he bounces his thigh as you keep grinding.

“Cum for daddy.” He growls, his eyes going down to the wet marks you left on his leg, “Cum for me.”

With a loud moan and a rush of pleasure, you cum. It’s not as intense as if you were riding his cock. But this would suffice for now.

“Now… For my cock.” He smirks as he speaks.

anonymous asked:

Could you write a small fic from the list specifically "You laughed at my taste and I shoved you into the books" one and Killian would be mad that she shoved him but he's impressed by her strength and please and thank you ily bye.

Anon, I admit this may have gotten a bit away from me. As in, I hope you enjoy 3,300 words of bookstore AU fluffy word vomit. 

This is a “I asked for your help getting a book off the top shelf and and you laughed at my taste and called me a nerd so I shoved you into a table of nonfiction best-sellers and that’s how we both got banned from the quirky community bookstore AU“

(If anyone’s wondering, [this] is the list this prompt refers to.)


hardcover.

Call her a simpleton, but Emma Swan enjoys the little things in life.

And when you have a job like she does – bounty hunting can get really tiring on a long day, after all – it’s the simple pleasures that help her wind down. Like Tuesday and Thursday mornings when she stops by Granny’s quirky little diner on Main Street to grab a cup of coffee. Or how she’ll go out with her partner Ruby every other weekend for happy hour at some trashy bar or another of the brunette’s choosing. And hot chocolate. She’s always up for a good hot chocolate with cinnamon.

So really, it’s a typical Friday afternoon when she stops by the town’s used bookstore after clocking out. She’s been coming here for a while, ever since she moved to Maine from Boston, and she’s even made friends with the owner, Belle. The store doesn’t get a lot of customers, but its quiet. And Emma likes quiet.

The bell on the door tinkles when she pushes it open, and she waves to Belle at the back of the shop.

“Hey, Emma,” Belle calls to her from behind a pile of books.

“Hi, Belle,” she responds, already heading over to the section that has quietly become her spot. The classics. “Has that book I requested come in yet?”

Belle taps at the keys of the computer in front of her and deflates a little. “No, I’m sorry,” she answers, sounding genuinely concerned in the way the Belle does about everything. “Everything by F. Scott Fitzgerald is backlogged right now because of summer reading lists at the high school.”

Emma laughs and waves her off. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’ll be here whenever it does come.”

Belle sends her a small smile and gets back to whatever it is she was doing. Emma, taking a deep breath and inhaling the singular smell of old books, feels herself unwind as she heads back to the corner of the store that houses the classic novels. Great American, English, even children’s books. If they have value, they’re in the back. The set of shelves leads all the way up to the ceiling, right by a window, with a nice, puffy armchair for her to –

There’s someone in her chair.

A scruffy male someone, lounging in the chair with a copy of a Tom Clancy novel in his hands. He’s reading Tom Clancy, she thinks. Why the hell is he in the classics section?

His eyes shoot up to hers suddenly, and she realizes that she’s been standing in place, glaring at him for a few moments. He’s extremely good looking, which only seems to bother her more. His blue eyes are stark contrast against his dark hair, and there’s a black stud adorning his ear. He’s wearing black jeans and a leather jacket, and Emma hates him instantly. It’s far too hot outside for anyone to be wearing leather. And her hatred has absolutely nothing to do with her profound affinity to date assholes in leather. Or the fact that he’s sitting in her chair.

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Do you ever wonder if there is more than right now?

Do you ever feel like sometimes your soul is separated from your body and is exploring lands unknown?

Do you think that you will find it one day, tangled in a rush of wind and a bed of flowers?

I do. That’s why my head is always in the sky, breathing in the colors, and trying to touch the clouds.

—  Hamda S.  “I Pray That There Will Be More”  

sarahzoldyck asked:

Haha I just had this weird thought imagine like 4 years after Gon and killua parted away, so during that time while Gon was with his dad killua he found a baby girl somewhere and then imagine if Gon visits killua and finds the little girl saying "I love you daddy" Lol imagine what Gon's reaction would be.

Disclaimer: IDK how toddlers talk and this turned really silly and stupid at the end.

================================================


“KIllua!” Gon squealed happily once the receiver picked up. 

Killua pulled his cellphone away wincing at the sudden outburst. “Hey Gon.”

“Killua guess what?!” Gon continued right on unable to contain himself for much longer. 

“What?” 

“I’ll be going to Yorknew soon! Well, in about two weeks more like, but Ging said he had to stop by the city to talk to some politicians and make some trades. He’s not sure how long he’ll take so I’m guessing I’ll have at least a few days to spend with you!” 

Killua tried his best not to get his hopes too high up. These little “almost” meetings had happened one too many times and thus four years had passed in a blink of an eye. 

“That sounds great! Alluka and I have settled near the outskirts for the time being while I resolve a small issue. We should still be here during that time if you do get to come.” 

Gon’s enthusiasm had bubbled down though he was still incredibly excited over the possibility of finally meeting up with Killua again. “Yeah,” he replied more composed, “I can’t wait to see you again. I really miss you.” 

========================

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  When peace returns to Hyrule... It will be time for us to say
            good-bye...

            Now, go home, Link! Regain your lost time! Home... Where you are
            supposed to be...the way you are supposed to be...


Slowly, the Princess pulled the Ocarina from her lips, the final note of her childhood lullaby lingering sweetly in the warm summer sky. Wisdom told her not to look, that seeing him go would pierce her heart like a knife and twist the blade for good measure. It will be over soon, she thought, and there will be no second chance. She snapped her head back to turn her gaze to the heavens. Zelda caught one last glimpse of the blue crystal bearing Link back against the currents of time before he, too, left her alone and disappeared into the blue haze. She gripped the Ocarina so tightly that she feared for a moment it might shatter. This is the only way, she reminded herself, the only way to set things right. At any moment, Link’s journey to the past would cement itself in history and rewrite the foolhardiness she had mistaken for wisdom seven long years ago. The door of time would never have been opened, and Ganondorf would never claim the Triforce of Power for his own. I wonder what it will feel like, she thought, idly wiping a tear from her face with a gloved finger. Would there be pain? If so I will gladly endure. Link would change the course of history, and in doing so destroy the ties of fate that bound them together. Hyrule would rise once more, and the tainted reign of the demon king would be as a fable in the storybooks Impa would read to her as a child.


Something shifted in the gentle wind, and the clouds began to churn and swirl violently around her. Zelda held the Ocarina tightly, gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes, waiting for time to be erased and for the abyss left behind to swallow her whole. The wind rose to a screaming gale and the pleasant warmth of the azure sky grew to a scorching flame around her, wispy clouds melting and twisting and dying in the heat until all ended in an abrupt silence.
Hesitantly, the princess opened her eyes, frightened of what they might behold. Would she be a child again, turning from her courtyard window to see the forest fairy from her darkest dreams? Would she be as she is now, yet Queen of a prosperous kingdom, one that had never felt the touch of darkness?


Instead, she found herself standing alone, surrounded by the crumbling ruins of the fortress Ganondorf had built atop the only home she had ever known. The sky boiled with thick, dark clouds, and the smell of fire and brimstone filled her nostrils. The Ocarina slipped from her hands, clattering dully on the gravel at her feet.


She thought of her family, of her friends, of her beautiful kingdom and its emerald plains and sapphire waters. All of them had burned away in the flames, and she alone had set the torch to the kindling. 


Zelda fell to her knees and wept in the ashes.

Hey guys! I wrote a sad oneshot about Zelda sending Link back to rewrite time, but failing to realize that the result would be a split timeline and not one unified one. 

I feel like I am physically inclined to touch your face when we kiss, the same way the sun is physically inclined to rise in the morning and greet other faces, the same way I plan to greet yours on a summer day in the sand, with your hand in my hand and our toes in the ocean– free from the fire of the past and the burns it left us. Let’s leave a trace of ashes so we can rebuild the old home where we once slept peacefully.
—  nostalgia

Oh, those Manderly girls. Everyone knows those Manderly girls.

Wynafryd -  Fred - is the sensible one. Everyone knows that. Fred went straight into the family firm as soon as she graduated from college. Fred is engaged to a boy from a good family. Fred plays tennis and golf, and she likes ballet and musical theatre.

People forget that Fred is the family firm’s unofficial fixer, and there’s nothing sensible about that. They forget that her fiancé is Humfrey Hightower, who might come from a good family but who is not a good boy.

Now, Wylla, well, Wild Wylla only works for the family firm because no one else would take her with that hair. Wylla’s a party girl, and everyone knows it - she’s the one who uses the Manderly name to talk her way into overcrowded hole-in-the-wall nightclubs. Wylla’s the one you’re going to see falling out of a limo at four in the morning with her knickers in her bag and a boy on her arm.

Except it’s always the same boy - nice, sensible, Robb Stark, who asked her to marry him at Christmas, like something from a Colin Firth movie. Wylla represents Manderly and Associates with most of the big business firms in town, too, who wouldn’t tolerate any wildness.

See, Fred’s the oldest. There’s always been an assumption that because she’s the oldest, and because she never did anything silly like dye her hair bright green, well, she must be the normal one. The good one. And Fred lets them think that, because it means no one questions it when she’s seen escorting call girls from luxury hotels - if they’re with nice, sensible Fred, they can’t be call girls, can they? They must just be a couple of busy girls, out for a drink or two.

Wylla, on the other hand, uses her reputation for silliness to hide how hard she works. She’s the flighty one, the youngest, the spoiled little baby of the family, and she uses that reputation to her advantage - no one ever sees Wylla Manderly coming, not until she serves her lawsuit.

Oh, those Manderly girls. Everyone knows those Manderly girls.

Just not for long: Tales from the city of Westhaven.

for mermaidmanderly and wickedg

anonymous asked:

Lol 19, 7, or 1 for NaLu or Gajevy. You choose! I'm not picky :D

19: Wet dream and calling out other’s name

He looked so peaceful when he sleeps, Levy mused as she watched the iron dragon slayer suck in a heavy sigh, fingers lazily scratching at his exposed belly. His neck moved as he swallowed, sly tongue dragging over his bottom lip before he slipped back into deep slumber.

Laying on on her couch was one of his favorite pastimes, waiting for her to stop reading and take notice of him. Only, he fell asleep most of the time, allowing Levy to read to her heart’s content.

There were rarely any distractions.

So, just when she was getting to a rather steamy part in her book, a small sound managed to drag her back from the world of the written word. A tiny groan.

Curious, she set down her book, leaving the main character and her conquest to wait while she investigated the strange noise.

Slowly rising from her chair, Levy froze at the same sound, deep in the chest of the slumbering man on her couch.

The soft moan, and her name attached to it.

Wide hazel eyes watched as Gajeel squirmed, a blissful expression on his face.

“Mmm, Levy-” He sighed, groaning a sound that suggested naughty, naughty things. “Mmmore. Gihi.”

Against her better judgement, Levy’s gaze dropped to his pants, seeing the tented boxers with a hot flush of her cheeks.

“Play with me…Shrimp…” He sleepily demanded, snoring soon after while his hand drifted to pick at the underwear.

Yeah! She had somewhere else to be! Definitely far away where she could not listen to her boyfriends dirty dreams!