anonymous asked:

have you ever listened to 'draco malfoy' from 'swish and flick'? It's so cringy, but I can't stop listening to it lol

I listened to 30 seconds of it and screamed

Paradise Lost

It was just another day in paradise.

Nickers and whinnies wafted across the paddock, the gentle sounds an almost melodic accompaniment to the lazy drift of clouds above and the the hypnotic, windblown sway of fieldgrass below. The occasional stamp of hooves or swish of tail was all that intruded upon the serene tableau, but not even the subtle hint of equine impatience could mar an otherwise idyllic afternoon. Even the faint drone of flies only served to soften the scene, lulling those present into a haze of pleasant indolence along with the humid, latesummer breeze off Lake Everstill.

Try as they might, however, the veritable harem of mares could not entice the stallion at the center of it all. Though Beast could often be found hung bell-deep into the grasses beneath, his disinterest in their offerings was plain to see. The massive black steed had eyes only for a tiny, cream-coloured pony who lurked behind the wall of encroaching horseflesh, safely beyond his reach. It seemed an anatomical improbability that he could actually -breed- the shaggy little thing, but that hadn’t stopped him from chasing her about the ranch whenever he had the chance… and Swiftmoon didn’t help matters, batting her doe-eyed lashes at him time and again before cantering off in fear when he drew too close. It seemed a love that nature never intended, but, well… there was quite a bit of that going around on the Alexandre Estates.

Regardless, ‘Scamp’ and Diarlen had purchased him for the express purpose of breeding the mares Rhozlyn gifted them with before her farewell. Well, the more -immediate- purpose had been to save him from a slaughterhouse, as his previous owner had given up on the magnificent creature. 'Magnificent,’ that is, but for the fist-sized dent that’d staved in one side of his skull, a remnant of his service in Stormwind’s cavalry and the rude welcome of an orcish mace. The injury left him somewhat intractable when put out to stud, but tireless and relatively placid when fitted with a yoke. He and Scamp had almost single-handedly (hoovededly?) plowed the entirety of the paddocks, if not the whole Estate, and Beast had been the muscle that’d raised the barn itself, drawing the supports into place.

So, while their hopes of breeding within the first season were off to a somewhat inauspicious start, Beast, with all his foibles, had become as much a part of the family as Swiftmoon and Mo. Whether or not he was getting it on, he’d been integral in getting things up. They could live with that… after all, there was always next year, and the profit they’d made trading a few of the mares would enable them to purchase an exceedingly lucky stallion come spring.

A muffled whump sounded in the distance, its faint echo carrying upon the placid air to draw Scamp’s thoughts back to the present. Raeanné, the newest addition to their Manor, was shaking out the bedsheets as she hung their laundry out to dry, banded wooden basin filled with a jumble of cloth at the housekeeper’s feet. A line of billowing whites flapped gently in the warming breeze, the motion affording him an occasional glimpse of auburn hair in the garden beyond. His brows, even the scarred one, softened as he smiled a secret little smile, jade eyes dancing as they caught sight of Diarlen at work. They were too far apart for him to spy Abi 'helping’ beyond the flowering herbs, but he had nothing to fear as Motomo was with them both. The littlest Frostwolf was probably lazing about in the sun as he watched over mother and daughter, but even a frostwolf 'runt’ was a formidable foe. The little ball of fur he’d found behind their cottage upon the Garrison grounds was tall as a full-grown timberwolf now, at a year and a half of age. He’d been something of a Winter’s Veil gift for his pregnant wife, and the runt had bonded with her as if she’d given him birth herself… but when at last she did, a few months later, the wolf formed a connection with his new 'sibling’ that amazed them to this day. Of course, as he took after Scamp more than anyone else, he often found himself head-over-tail in trouble… but it seemed he’d picked up on a little of his master’s escape artistry as well.

Whatever the case, though he couldn’t quite hear any of Abi’s babbling, or the stories mother was probably telling to child as she worked, he smiled still, cheeks balling beneath a scruff of ruddy beard. Their daughter had begun to talk of late; simple words… mama, dadada, Mo, Wae (she wasn’t -quite- there with the 'R’s’ just yet), ho-sie, and a choice word or two she’d picked up from her father that he -probably- should have been more careful about uttering around her. But with a body like Diarlen’s, he couldn’t resist commenting on its merits from time to time… as the occasional bruise along his ribs could attest. Curvy as she was, the woman had some -seriously- sharp elbows!

Abigaíl had picked up on more than her parents’ speech, however; her and Mo had a language all their own. Mother and father would occasionally peek in on them playing in the den, listening as Abi snuffled, babbled and cooed, and Mo warbled and chuffed and yipped… for all the world sounding like they were carrying on a conversation the two alone could interpret. For all he knew, the little runts -were- indeed communicating, on some level at least; Mo would nose over the blocks she’d pointed towards, dropping them into place with the gentle bite of fangs when stubby fingers proved too undextrous for the task. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what they were -building- half the time, but still, they worked together to achieve it.

Just as the Alexandres were working towards a future for their family. They’d heard word of the Legion’s return; criers from Stormwind who’d rode through the surrounding countryside seeking volunteers to ship out after the King’s expedition. The Legion, however, like a great many fears from Azeroth’s past, was little more than a boogeyman to most. Amongst the human nations, the Lich King held greater sway in their collective memory, the demons being a more nebulous force that fought the majority of its wars an ocean away, and had been subjugated since by the darker amongst the magi. Scamp and Diarlen were too busy looking towards the future, to answer a call to face such a past.

Another 'whump’ drew him back from his latest reverie… head cocking, birdlike, to one side as the animal within snapped to the fore. Raeanné straightened up from her work, peering off to the distant hills as if drawn to the noise as well.

And that was when the bells began to toll.

On some level, Gryffyth had lived in fear of those bells for almost twenty years. Every hour, on the hour, they’d clanged through the cities and towns on the Eastern Kingdoms with the soothing regularity that marked off the passage of their days. For Gryff, however… the first moment of every clang took him back to his youth, to the bells that tolled in seeming cheer as their Prince returned. The bells that soon began to ring in haste, rapid, staccato nails that drove themselves so deep into his psyche they still echoed on occasion in his dreams. Diarlen might have noticed the way his fur rose, if his form didn’t quite stiffen, whenever the bells tolled an hour. The way his nostrils sometimes flared instinctively in reaction, good ear swiveling in a moment’s alert. The bells might have rung through each hour of his life, but he’d never forget the sound they made during a single one.

It took him all of a moment to realize they were making the same sounds now. He tore into the wolf before he’d even realized it, fur rippling along his flesh as he set it free. Splayed fingers, still in the process of sprouting a deep, russet shag across his knuckles, slapped Beast upon the flank with a healthy dose of claws. The horse reared, drawing the attention of his fawning suitors and even the poor little pony who was always trying to shy away from his advance. The damaged stallion might be slow, but he wasn’t stupid… of all the horses they owned, Beast was the only one who’d never shied away from his feral form. “INSIDE!” screamed the worgen; to the horse, to Rae, to Dia and Abi and Mo all at once, waving his arms frantically for any who’d see. Without waiting to see if the horses obeyed he tore across the field, hindpaws carving divots in the dirt as he raced across the corral. Vaulting the posted fence, he yanked a startled Rae off her feet as he made for the garden, nearly tearing her arm from its socket in the process. “DIARLEN!” Her full name; not Dia, not my Lady, certain to get her attention for how infrequently she heard it fall from his lips; but the priestess had recognized the alarm almost as soon as he, and Mo was scampering about her heels, almost nipping at them to get her to move faster towards the manse with Abi in her arms. Having been swept up so suddenly and barreled off towards the house, the brassy-haired little girl might have been expected to squeal in glee or shriek in terror; but she just shrunk against her mother’s chest, clinging on for dear life yet looking out, wide-eyed and somber, aware something was wrong but not yet afraid.

Oh, for the innocence of babes.

“Mo, the horses! Get them inside!”

With a bark of understanding the runt was off, chasing the mares in circles until he’d corralled them all in a herd towards the stables. Beast had somehow managed to scatter them all as he fought his way towards Swiftmoon, his little pony princess. Tiny as she was, she trotted almost beneath the stallion’s hooves, sensing his fear and going where she felt most safe. Though no one had a moment to bear witness, she even brushed her muzzle against his shoulder, nickering softly in alarm yet trusting to his strength in her burgeoning terror.

Beast had all of a moment to enjoy her long-awaited capitulation when a meteor, burning with the chaotic flames of fel green fire, hurtled down from the sky in a scream of fury and demolished the creature, shattering its spine and charring the remains before the poor, noble steed could even feel the pain of its passing. Devastated yet enraged, the diminutive little pony reared on its hinds as a massive fel creature emerged from the crash, unfolding itself to reveal the jagged form of a mindless Infernal. With the fury of her sudden bereavement, she lashed out with her front hooves, clattering with all her might against the creature’s tainted stone leg. A chip flew free, just enough to draw the thing’s attention… and as the mares cowered behind the snarling, spike-furred Frostwolf, Swiftmoon reared up once more, neighing out a warrior’s cry… prepared to go down fighting over her lost love.

Whump after whump echoed in the distance, dull but shuddering thuds that vied with screams, cries and clangs, war and death… until even the seemingly endless tolling of the bells ceased, as those left alive needed all hands on deck to fend off the invasion. Though they would not know it until later, the placid hills of Redridge had not even borne the full brunt of a demonic assault… only a few, scattered attacks that kept the inhabitants busy while the otherworldly forces massed closer to the capital.

Scamp watched from the cave’s shrouded entrance, tears obscuring his vision as he took in the scene below. Having learned, the hard way, that running for your life was a very present possibility in the world he once knew, he’d stockpiled a nearby cave in the hills above their manor with supplies. Abigaíl had fallen into an exhausted slumber as Diarlen and Rae inventoried the cache, tending to the minutiae to keep their minds from drifting back. Mo, whimpering by his side, attempted to lick out at the tears upon his master’s furred cheeks, but couldn’t rise up far enough upon his bent and broken forepaws to reach.

The worgen couldn’t even bring himself to skritch at the wolf’s soot-crusted fur to console him, lost as he was to the sight of the Estates below… or at least, of what remained. A corral littered with burnt and broken horseflesh, and the scattered rocks of a fallen infernal… illuminated by the green and amber light of a dwindling fire as the manor house gave way, crumbling in a faint shower of sparks like a dying gasp.

It had been the first building awaiting them in Lakeshire when they’d begun to build a future in these hills.

It was the last building to fall.

@diarlen-and-crew  @bearidorn

nagromindahouse  asked:

you talking about xenomorphs gave me a idea: A person is exploring a planet, when he encounters a giant xenomorph, straight from the movies! Fortunately, this particular alien is friendly, and is actually the result of a experiment that happened on the planet that the human is exploring, which explains why it grew to 500 feet tall!

A friendly giant xenomorph would be interesting, very scary at first glance until they found out they were friendly I imagine!

Now I’m just imagining how a giant friendly xenomorph would act, probably a bit like a cat- slinking around and gently nudging humans to try and be affectionate, tail swishing and little….purring noises? Hisses?


“Where Heath Ledger’s version was scarred, shabby and countercultural, Leto’s has a smooth, blingy gangsta swagger; a modern take on the way the original comic-book creation riffed on ’30s mobsters. But it’s not his swish, purring style and elegant, slo-mo cackle that really hooks you, it’s something we’ve never seen before: the Joker in love. Here’s a fascinatingly jagged new angle (cinematically at least). It’s unsettling and compelling — almost enough to make you wish it were more than a subplot.”

  • Natsu:So whats the plan? we just go in all like bang bang and free the first?
  • Lucy:What was that noise?
  • Natsu:Fighting noises.
  • Gray:No Natsu, I think you mean swoosh woosh woosh.
  • Natsu:That sounds like water.
  • Gajeel:Technically its more like clank clank.
  • Wendy:Okay, enough with the bad sound effects. Besides its more like swish swish.
  • Erza:FOCUS!

baby chowder with a bowl cut bundled in a bright teal, pink, and yellow coat that makes zipping, swishing noises as he moves helping his mom lace up his skates for the first time during faber free skate

Just Friends (Part I): Young!Sirius x Reader

Masterlist // Part II

Request: Would you maybe be able to do like a young Sirius or Remus oneshot please and Maybe it’s the guys ex and they’re talking to the girl they like then realise too late what they’ve done or something please?

Warnings: None

Send In Your Requests

Originally posted by sensualkisses

It had been a nasty break up, or ending, or whatever people wanted to call it. 

Y/N and Sirius had started off as friends, the best, until he couldn’t keep up the facade anymore. He wanted her, badly. The swish of her hips, the way she would laugh at their pranks, the dimples in her cheeks, and dear godric, those long long legs. All he could do for months is think about how they would feel around him, how he would feel between them, how would her breath would hitch. He wanted to feel her pouty pink lips, he wanted her delicate fingers in his hair. 

They hooked up for months on ends, awkward encounters with the other boys as she ran out of the room early in the morning, the teasing for when she left a garment of some sort on the room floor, the winks when they spotted the dark marks on her neck. She was already within their tight group before she and Sirius got intimate, but now, she was in too deep.

As Sirius found himself looking forward to their weekly private meet up’s, Y/N felt herself growing more and more attached to him. She would crave his presence, his touch, his stupid corny jokes. She found herself hurrying out of class to walk with him down the hall, sitting by him at meals. She was sure of  what was happening, when he had stumbled into the Common Room drunkenly one night with some Ravenclaw girl on his arm. He hadn’t even noticed Y/N curled up in her usual arm chair, her jaw agape and eyes wide.

She was falling quickly for him, if not already fallen. Bad Boy Black, the one who was against love. She was in love with someone who couldn’t reciprocate the feelings. So she began to distance herself, no longer always on the Marauders right hand flanks. She spent more and more time with herself, her thoughts. Until Sirius had sauntered into her dorm one day asked suggested they, “have some fun”, and she had lost it.


“Sirius, I can’t, stop. Stop!” She muttered, more firmly the second time as she pushed him off of her. 

He looked down at her with confusion, eyebrows furrowed, “We don’t have to go all the way.” He muttered sheepishly. 

She pushed away from him completely, her knees up against her chest as she stared at him, he was placating her and it was embarrassing. “What? Do you want to try something new?” He asked, winking slightly. 

“No! No. I don’t- stop! Let go!” Y/N shrieked, pulling her ankle from his grasp as he tried to tug her to him

. He pulls back completely, shirt billowing and hands up in defense. ‘What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?” He asked carefully.

 Y/N swallows, wanting nothing more than to throw herself at him, she felt like she had been craving his touch forever. “Sirius, I- I can’t do this anymore.” She mutters, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear. 

“Why?” He deadpans, peering at her. She sighs, blinking, how was she supposed to explain it to him? 

“Is there someone else?” He growls, her silence pissing him off.

 “No.” She says, shaking her head. 

“Than what? Why won’t you let me touch you?” He snaps, frustrated.

 Y/N narrows her eyes at him, before shooting up off the bed, “Because, I want more than this! I want more than fucking and waking up to you gone, Sirius!” She shouts. 

Sirius stares at her, shocked, “W-what? How- I thought we had an agreement?” 

Y/N scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “An agreement. A contract. You scratch my back and I scratch yours, until you get tired of me, right? Find a nice Ravenclaw girl to suit your tastes.”  

Sirius is standing up now too, his tone bitter, “I thought we were allowed to see other people.” 

Y/N shakes her head, rolling her eyes, “Yeah. Yeah we are, you’re right.” 

“Y/N, baby,  come on, what’s going on?” Sirius counters, staring at her. 

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s not important.” 

“Obviously it is.” Sirius mutters, reaching over and loosening her grip on her own arm, the nails digging into her skin. 

“I love you.”She blurts out, as soon his fingers touch her skin. He pulls back, immediately, eyes wide. 

“What?” He watches as her face falters, guilt and regret spreading across her features. 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just go. Please. Get out!” She cries, her voice an octave higher. He stares at her, but nonetheless begins to shuffle out the room.

Now, 3 weeks later, he hadn’t heard from her at all. She avoided him, and the Marauders wouldn’t give him any indicator as to how she was doing. His eyes wander the crowd for her, knowing she was never one to pass on a rager. The Ravenclaw girl he had brought with him, or more so she had insisted on coming, was babbling away beneath him. She was up against the wall and she kept pulling on his tie, trying to grab his attention.

 “Siriussss, baby, pay attention to me.” She whined.

 “I am, I am.” He says, giving her a fake smile.  He eyes return to searching the crowd as the girl presses her lips to his jaw. He’s about to give in, give the girl what she wants, when he sees her.

She’s sitting on the armrest of a chair, her legs thrown over the legs of some guy. She listening to him as he explains something to her, her eyebrows knit together in concentration, until a small, wild smile breaks onto her face, and a laugh escapes her lips. A laugh,  Sirius can hear even through all the party noise, clear as the wind. He looks at the guy, wondering who the hell the bloke was. Y/N takes a swig of her drink, biting her lips slightly. 

He knows the move, seen it himself a thousand times, she’s flirting with him. The same lip bite drove Sirius crazy. The boy leans up suddenly, his hands on her thigh as he pulls her closer to whisper something in her ear. Sirius watches as Y/N’s face turns red, her eyes widening, until she giggles softly. The boys hands wrap around her waist, and pull her in a swift movement onto his lap, causing her to squeal in delight. 

Sirius’ jaw locks, his teeth clenching and the arm against the wall curling into a fist. He, was the only one, who should make Y/N make those sounds, the only one who should be able to touch her, feel her. She puts her drink to the side, and runs her fingers through the boy’s hair. Sirius feels a pang, realizing he missed that, how did he not realize it before. 

“Stop.” He says, pulling away from the Ravenclaw girl as her hand slides down the front of his pants. He ignores her shrieking and complaints as he eyes focus on Y/N again, her head is turned, but he doesn’t need to see the look on her face, because the guy leans forward and kisses her, his arm tight around her, trailing down dangerously low. Sirius feels his blood boil, he has had it. He crushes his cup and tosses it aside, moving to go to her and stop this porn show.

 Until James and Remus slide in front of him, “Move.” He growls, trying to get past them.

 “Mate, stop. Stop!” James says, pushing him back roughly.

 “James, I swear to God-”

 “Pads, let her be. She deserves to be happy.” Remus says, trying to calm him. 

“That’s not happy! That’s- that’s some bloke taking advantage of her!” Sirius shouts. 

James and Remus share a look, “Mate, you know Y/N, if she didn’t want it she’d make it clear.” James mutters, his underlying tone suggesting Sirius’ worst fears, he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

 “I don’t care. I don’t want him touching her. I don’t want anyone touching her.” He growls, stepping around them, but he stops a step later when he sees Y/N and the boy no longer on the couch, but heading up the girls dorm stairs, his hands on her waist and leading her in front. 

It was too late.

Reuniting once again

Autumn sighed as she walked down the hallway, heels clicking ominously. The suit pants swished around her ankles as the White blouse did the same at her waist. It had been ten years today that she had left the ship. She missed it so much. The freedom. Her family. The adventures they had. She still remembered the day she had left. Stopping only to tell John. She had applied and gotten the position at Beacon. She had always loved teaching and couldn’t pass it up when she was accepted. Then she had disappeared. Knowing Ariana would be pissed. Knowing they all would be. But she couldn’t stay. Now she was here. One of the best but strictest professors. Besides Glynda herself. She stopped as she saw a two students fighting.
“Stop!” She yelled, making them freeze, “I can’t believe you! You know better then to fight without proper supervision! Especially with weapons! I-” she stopped as voices rose behind her, making her eyes widen.