also i made it green and red for the christmas colours

Kind and Goofy

I thank (and blame) @pixletta for this. This is based on a short story they gave me and I just- 


Au where your world is black and white until you kiss your soulmate

Jeremy had always thought of his life as simple. For years he only had to focus on three things: his music loving best friend, his obnoxious teenage bully and the love of his life - the main ingredients for a teenage boy. He had grown used to the black and white surroundings he had grown up in. However this all changed when he got the Squip. 

 The little computer in his head was adamant on him becoming more than his nerdy persona. He insulted him, manipulated him into getting what he wanted and soon Jeremy found himself rising above his ranks. He was talking to the popular kids, he was wearing more fashionable clothing and his once teenage bully was not practically his best friend. All he wanted now was her - his soulmate.

But apparently, that was too much to ask. 

 "What do you mean it might not be Christine?“ Jeremy questioned his Squip out loud in his bedroom where no one else could hear. His dad had gone out to get groceries (thankfully with pants) so the house was his for the time being. 

 "I’m saying,” the CPU stated, taking his physical form over to the end of the bed, “that soulmates are not the result of science, therefore I am unable to calculate who the particular human will be, given that there are roughly 7,500,000,000 people roaming the Earth at this given moment. It is very unlikely that your soulmate is Christine." 

 "But it has to be!” Jeremy interjected. “Soulmates have a bond, and I can feel that bond between us." 

 "You don’t even know her Jeremy.”

 "I don’t need to! When I close my eyes, I can picture us together, and we’re happy. Whenever I see her, I just want to kiss her and tell her how much I love her. I want her to tell me how much she needs me… I want to know that I’m her favourite person.“ Jeremy was soon lost in his own daydream and failed to notice that the Squip had suddenly taken interest. 

Keep reading

It Can’t Be Me

Here is a drarry one-shot I wrote today, at 2a.m because I felt like it so I asked @theperksofbeingatotalnerd for any prompt and she, amazing friend as she is, gave me exactly the one I don’t know how to write. Also, yes, I also write shitty things sometimes, I don’t just read even though probably I should xD

Draco was still trying to understand how he had ended up agreeing to play Truth or Dare. Especially one majorly composed by gryffindors. 

He blamed it on the two firewhisky shots. Or maybe it was just that Harry bloody Potter had looked at him like he was expecting him to refuse. Yeah, that’s probably it. He couldn’t really back down from the challenge, could he? Besides, it had nothing to do with the fact that the prat was suddenly not-that-painful-to-look-at. 

Anyway, the reason wasn’t really important. What mattered was how he was now stuck seeing Lee Jordan and Ginny Weasley making out like a new Dark Lord was going to vanquish the earth tomorrow. They didn’t really need to worry, though. The git who killed the last one was still alive and Draco figured that killing one more wouldn’t be that much of a deal. 

Thankfully, the Weasley girl finally stepped away from the dark-skin boy and promptly sat in her spot again. The group held their breath, waiting for the one who would have to endure Ginny Weasley’s revenge. Draco just rolled his eyes.

“Harry” she spoke.

Draco rolled his eyes again, almost going blind.

The golden boy had been awfully quiet through the game. He only answered one truth question (and now everybody knew he did have boxers with little snitches flying around) and gave Luna Lovegood a quick peck on the cheek, as a result of a dare. The blonde believed people were going soft on him, afraid he would unleash his I-killed-Voldemort power on them. He wished someone would turn this game more exciting. Like, ask Potter to take his shirt off or something. Not that Draco wanted a look at his ripped abs. Or dreamt about them. 

“Truth or Dare?” the red-head continued. 

The boy seemed to shake himself out of some internal reverie and stared at the girl, almost evaluating his situation. Ginevra wasn’t known for making it easy. He ran a hand through his hair, messing the black locks even more and bit his lip, thinking. What Draco wouldn’t give to bi-

“Dare” he answered, looking at Ginny unfazed, almost like a challenge. All his body spoke Do your worst. There was just something about Potter when he got like this, like there’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t face, nothing he wouldn’t do to catch the snitch. It gave Draco a hot chill down his spine.

Ginny smiled like the cat who caught the bird. Harry didn’t even blink.

“I dare you to sit right next to the person you like. And don’t come saying you like all of us. I mean your crush.”

At that, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice lost some of the colour on his face. He gaped at the girl, as if trying to understand if it was real. The people around him had different reactions. Granger looked unsurprised, the Weasel was practically snoring in her shoulder, any attention to the game gone, Luna cooed lightly at his right, Longbottom was almost as astonished as Potter and the rest of the group (including Pansy and Blaise) just looked eager at the prospect of having a clue on the person who stole the Saviour’s heart.

“You can’t be serious.” Potter finally said.

“Oh, don’t make such a scene. I was nice. We’re in a circle, so you can choose which side next to him to sit and no one will know which one of them is it.”

Did she said ‘him’?!

Potter sighed and scratched his face, mumbling something that sounded a lot like “I don’t even know why I still play this”. Every eye was locked on him as the boy got up, eyes cast down, and started to make his way to the other side of the circle. The side Draco was on. It was with a mist of mortification and admiration that the Slytherin watched as the black haired boy took a few more sheepish steps and promptly sat next to Dean Thomas and him.Everything suddenly seemed to vanish from his view. It couldn’t be, could it? It had to be Thomas, it only made sense. They knew each other for years, had shared a dormitory, both gryffindors… there was no chance… no way that… it couldn’t be Draco. However, his mind didn’t really want to follow the logic and it concentrated, instead, in the last few months. How Harry always made sure Draco wasn’t forgotten by the other eight years, the late night talks when neither of them was able to sleep in the complete darkness of their shared dormitory, the few study sessions they shared at the library, how he sat next to him in Christmas once he realized he was alone, when he visited him at the infirmary after a nasty fall on a Quidditch game (even though Draco still caught the snitch)…. 

And he knew. He knew for long that he had fallen in love with the specky git, even against his better judgment, even knowing he never stood a chance. He knew how he had disguised it, even to himself, with snarky remarks and cold sarcasm. He also knew how he failed it, numerous times, with a small smile that shaped his lips whenever Harry said something funny, with the light laugh he was unable to contain when he did something idiotic, with the lingering looks and the dreams that-

“Draco?” Came a sound next to him. His reverie hadn’t gone unnoticed and the group was staring at him expectantly. 

Wait, what? Draco?!

“Hm, yes?” he managed, weakly.

“Truth or Dare?” Potter asked, staring at him, intently, heavily.

He almost lost himself again in the bright green.

“Truth” he choose, a bit more composed.

Harry took a few seconds, searching for something in Draco’s grey iris, finally speaking once it seemed he found what he was looking for.

“Is the person you love in this room?”

It was an easy question, he knew. It could be one of at least twenty people. And still, he didn’t care about any of the other nineteen, focusing only in the boy at his left, all tousled hair and red lips.

“Yes.” He breathed.

Harry then turned and looked straight ahead, not even sparing one more glance at him. He could feel the other people looking at them, at him, waiting for his turn. But all he could do was feel the tension between him and Harry, not like the hate they shared years ago instead pulling him to the other boy. That’s when he noticed how the Gryffindor was still slightly leaning to him, shoulders almost touching. How the pink tip of Harry’s tongue darted out to damp the soft lips. How even trying to look straight ahead, the green eyes still flicked at him.

“Harry,” he heard himself saying “Truth or Dare?”

It only took the boy a second to decide, turning once more to stare at him directly.


“Kiss me”

And Harry did. 

And now there’s was no denying, because Harry might always have been a ‘do first, think later’, but nothing, nothing, he ever did had this passion, not even flying. There was nothing that could have prepared him for this. It was Draco’s every daydream and more. Wet, full lips were against his and he could swear nothing had ever felt so good. He cupped Harry’s face with his hand and changed the angle, allowing the other boy to deepen the kiss, tongues swirling and mingling so no one could tell which one belonged to who. Their breaths were coming short and heavy and they didn’t care. All they wanted was the other. Eventually (even after several catcalls and whistles) they separated, Harry giving him a sweet peck to complete it and a loving smile.

Draco, however, still had to make sure. “So, it was me?”

“It was always you.”

Draco took his hand, tugged him to their dormitory and, not sparing a second glance at the rest of the group, said “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

They weren’t.

anonymous asked:

Describe the foxes' hands pls :) im trying to draw them but i dont have any imagination :/

oh my god

  • kevin: artist’s hands, with long deft fingers. really nice nails that look like he has manicures even though he doesn’t (well, maybe sometimes). his left hand swells when he works hard (so, every day, pretty much) but the bones set surprisingly straight considering they were never properly treated. he makes fists of them when he’s nervous. there’s a blog dedicated to his sexy man hands and all the kevin day fans share them everywhere
  • dan: TEENY LITTLE HANDS with broad palms and quite short fingers. strong-looking, calloused across the base of the her centre three fingers. she paints her nails in bright colours (like orange!!! but also yellow and pastel pink and neon green) and moisturises with lemon-scented creme that allison buys her each birthday and christmas. loves to wear pretty rings, anything from fine plain metal to big chunky statement ones
  • matt: GIANT HANDS which means there’s a pic on the wall of dan holding her hand up against matt’s to compare (from before they started dating. they’re actually about to arm wrestle). thick-knuckled from boxing. shares dan’s moisturiser, so his hands smell citrusy too
  • renee: small hands with neatly trimmed nails that she doesn’t often paint unless they’re all doing them together. wears cute gloves all through winter because they get cold. red-silvery ropes of scarring in the meat of her palm where she once grabbed a blade aimed at her belly, to match the tracery on her knuckles where she was cut once or twice. they ache sometimes in bad weather, and swell in the heat, and she often clenches and relaxes them to ease stiffness. they’re helper’s hands, made to work as well as fight, and more soft and generous than they look like they should be 
  • aaron: workmanlike square hands with bitten nails and major tan line from his watch on his left wrist. they get cold easily but he never buys gloves so he often shoves them in his pockets and hunches his shoulders. has a crooked finger where he hit someone once (they deserved it) and it never healed right, but it doesn’t bother him much (except that he looks at it sometimes and thinks vaguely about becoming a doctor because everyone - even bratty poor kids -  deserves proper medical care)
  • allison: the kind of hands you see modelling rings - long fingers, slim lovely wrists, perfect nails in shell pink and iridescent silver and shimmering gold. she pays for manicures and moisturises obsessively. doesn’t mean she doesn’t have calluses, though - and she’s proud of them. these hands are beautiful, but they’re still as likely to make you lose a tooth as the hands of the other foxes
  • nicky: big mobile hands that are always on the move. the kind where you can make out every well-shaped bone and tendon moving under his skin, no marks to obscure them. he’s lazy about moisturising ever so they’re always super dry and also really warm. he always briskly chafes them over the hands or shoulders of anyone who complains about being cold. catch him holding hands with any and all of his teammates to keep their fingers warm 
  • andrew: broad palms, thick fingers; strong like the rest of him. scarred knuckles like tiny white starbursts where he’s punched things he shouldn’t - walls, mirrors, windows. misshappen knuckles from punching all kinds of stuff, actually (including people). broke bones more than once before he learned some technique for hurting people without hurting himself. under the marks, his skin is fairly pale from all the time he spends with them in his pockets, and also soft around the callouses from his racquet
  • neil: knobbly wrists but elegant slim hands that move quickly and lightly. they give him away sometimes, forming fists when he’s angry, and fluttering when he’s anxious or irritated. the burn scars stay rippled and obvious, but many of the finer scars between them eventually fade so you can only see them in the right light. often seen hooked into the hem of andrew’s sweater, or through a belt loop. andrew calls him “lost child” with a hint of mocking sometimes, but doesn’t tell him to stop
The Joy of Socks

yeah, idk either, really. Happy birthday, Harry! [AO3]

Presents for Potter: Saviour Seeks Socks

What do you get the man who single-handedly saved us all from You-Know-Who? A luxury holiday? A bottle of Ogdeon’s Finest? Soap-on-a-rope? Harry Potter’s birthday is coming up, and the Prophet managed to secure an exclusive interview with the man himself. We asked what he really, really wants to receive on the big day.

“A wise man once said to me, you can never have enough socks,” said Potter. “Once you reach a certain level of fame, no one gives you socks any more. At the time, I was too young to truly appreciate the remark, but now I get it. Socks are a great gift—and I never get any!”

So there you have it. Harry Potter needs socks! You can send him some, c/o the Prophet, and we will make sure he gets them. But who was the learned individual who gave Potter such advice? Some have suggested that [cont. page 3]

“How many is this now?” Ginny asked, unwrapping yet another package.

“Today? Including those that were sent to work? Or in total? Because I think we must be close to five hundred pairs, by this point,” Harry replied, holding up another pair. “Ooh, look, these ones have snitches on them, that’s cool.”

“This’ll learn you not to speak to the press ever again,” she said, shaking her head. “‘Dear Mr. Potter, I hope you like these socks, I knitted them myself, also thank you for saving us from Voldemort, love Doris Englow, 94’.”

“It never says that,” said Harry. She held up the note. “Oh, how sweet. Honestly though, the Prophet needs to stop claiming I did everything ‘single-handedly’, they’ve never given enough credit to—dear God, those are the most hideous socks I have ever seen.”

“Don’t be rude to Doris! She put a lot of time into them, and personally I think mustard, lime green and beetroot are lovely colour combinations,” Ginny said. “When did you even get interviewed, anyway?”

“Last Tuesday I was coming out of the canteen at work, and some reporter was lurking. They asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and for a moment I felt like channelling my inner Dumbledore. Don’t worry, I’ve learnt my lesson. Never again,” he said firmly.

“I wonder if he knew all he had to do was complain to the national press about not having any socks, and he’d be sorted for life,” mused Ginny. “Look, the Chuddley Cannons have sent you an entire box full of their entire range.”

“Ron’ll be delighted,” Harry said. “I’ll give them to him later, when we all meet up.”

“Great,” Ginny said. “And what about all the rest?”

“There’s got to be some charity somewhere who’ll accept a donation,” he said.

All of these?” Ginny said doubtfully. “What would anyone do with a thousand socks?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

how do you come up with all the character designs??

To be completely honest, anon, I never follow a specific method when I draw character designs. Sometimes they’re done at completely random with no particular thought, and sometimes they’re done with specific characters in mind. But! With that said, I do have certain keys that I tend to follow.

The main key is to keep things interesting. But that’s more simple than said. What makes a character look interesting? What makes them stand out?

I’ll try to demonstrate my thought process as well as I can.

The first thing to keep in mind is to remember that your first design, even the finished version, is nothing more than a concept. Yes, even when it’s all done and you think it looks perfect, remind yourself that it’s not. Time will pass, and you will make adjustments at some point. Sometimes, it’ll be a complete redesign, and sometimes, it’s just a small detail. Either way, it’s important to remember that the design you end up with is, in fact, not the end result.

To some people it might help to draw out really quick scribbles of random designs to see which one speaks to you the most. I highly recommend this, and I’ve done this a lot! Again, my methods vary depending on mood or situation. From beginners to professionals, the scribble method works just as well. Here’s an example of some concept art of Dorian from Dragon Age Inquisition.

As you can tell, the artist tried out several looks on a model before settling with a design they liked. (Sighs… Teach me your ways, bioware…)

Some prefer to draw a model that they can draw the clothes on, some go completely wild, which is also perfectly fine, draw the “scribbles” in whichever way suits you, as shown here and here — just remember to keep it quick and simple; save the details for the design you end up liking the most!

  • (With that said, I want to mention that this tutorial will be more focusing on the design parts than the character appearance, because i feel like faces and bodies deserves it’s own tutorial (it’d be all too much for one post).)

Okay, let’s start designing. For the sake of demonstration, I’ll use two different ways of thinking and genres. On the left, I’ll draw a more ‘random’ design, going more on impulse rather than thinking of a certain character. The only thing I have in mind is that I want the genre to be Sci-Fi, so let’s call her that. On the right, I’ll try to keep a character in mind, with the genre being Fantasy for comparison to Sci-Fi, so let’s name him Fantasy. Remember, if you do have a certain character in mind, creating a character becomes much more complex, but more interesting. (In my opinion). You need to remember that what they do and who they are will, and must, show in their design in some way. Unless, of course, it’s purposely done the opposite, in which case you have to be even more careful. Remember, every detail will say something about them! For example, say a character loathes makeup. Why would they be wearing it? Unless you have a really good explanation, don’t draw them with makeup. Basic logic, and it would fit their character. (Note: NOT an excuse, if you do something just to ‘prove’ it to basic logic, then it’s an excuse. If it’s done intentionally and with good reasoning, then it will not come off as unwise.)

Back to the designs — I wanted to keep it fairly plain for the sake of easier explanation. Perhaps minor characters, or perhaps purposely down-played for the sake of character image. I wanted to give Sci-Fi a nice, strapless and form-fitting dress, I wanted her to look sweet, and I wanted Fantasy to be kind of creepy, eyes-on-you kind of guy, not someone who’s too fancy, but not lacking in money either since he knows his way around things. The way he rubs his fingers makes him seem kinda eager for something.

Does the designs I drew above translate any of this at all? As I can imagine you guessed: no, it does not. It just looks like Anyonewearing Clothes™ with hair doesn’t say much, either.  ™.

Perhaps if we add colour…

Colour theory will be a different tutorials altogether, but I’ll cover the basics. As you can see, these colours do not flatter each other, and it does not make the clothes look any more interesting. For Sci-Fi, I wanted her clothes to be cute and colourful, but she only ended up looking like I’ve dropped the basic colours of MS Paint on her. The reason why that is is because the hues do not differ from each other. If i were to make the drawing in grayscale, you would see little to no contrast difference between the colours. Even when you’re going for a certain palette, such as pastel, you must make sure that the contrast and hues are complementary. Only, only break this rule if you know about this rule already and have practiced it. You must learn the rules before bending them. Patience is key. You will learn to do your own method with time, but being ignorant and oblivious is poison if you want to improve. Don’t be afraid to matching darker colours with lighter ones, and don’t be afraid to play around with the hues. (For example, making the skirt more red than magenta, etc.)

Now, for Fantasy, I wanted him to seem like the guy who could afford expensive dyes, but he wouldn’t bathe in them (but he probably wants to). I wanted a vibrant red to show that knowing that red can be an aggressive or passionate colour, and is often also associated with danger or sex. Perhaps he has a violent nature, maybe he’s really passionate about something, or perhaps, he really loves to sleep with people. Judging by his body language and expression, some of those traits certainly seem to suit him. The colour most vibrant, the one to stick out the most, is the colour that will say the most about the characters. Secondary colours is just as important, too. The colours chosen, however? It makes him look like a badly decorated christmas tree. The problem is, like Sci-Fi, the lack of contrast and hue (you can barely tell the difference between the boots and the pants). Not only that, but also uncomplimentary colours. Green and red are two completely different colours, as is the case with many other colours. To make them more appealing to the eye, you need to adjust the contrasts between them, making one darker or lighter, and you also need to tone down the vibrance. Since I wanted red to be the primary colour, the vibrancy turned down would be the green colour, etc.

Now, the first step to making the design a bit more interesting is to look up references. I know, not too fun, but you can make it so. I highly recommend getting Pureref for this. While you can have your own design in mind, your own ideas, it always helps to look up references of pictures that inspire you. You’ll find things you would likely never have thought about on your own. The ideas with both Sci-Fi and Fantasy remains the same, but the tweaks made made them already more unique and stand out, and you’re starting to really see the look that you were going for. For Sci-Fi, I kept the strapless look, I even made the skirt form-fitting, and I even kept her boots. The difference was the silhouette. Don’t be afraid to go bold with your designs and shapes! Make them stand out! Chances are they aren’t as bold as you think. Yes, it’s the uncomfortable ‘go outside your comfort zone’ method. Trust me, after a while it won’t be uncomfortable. You’ll just have to believe in yourself and what you’re drawing. If you want to make unique characters, you need to think unique. You might have personally wanted to wear what Sci-Fi wore before, but she is, after all, not you. Even if Sci-fi is a more random design, you are drawing what she would wear, in her settings. Same with Fantasy. He, too, remains the same as before. He has boots, pants, and a shirt, just like before, but this time with more renaissance (?) influence. Instead of an ordinary collar, I gave him frills, hinting about his status, and added them on his sleeves as well. The shirt itself is a peasant blouse, and while I don’t imagine him being a peasant, it’s either saying that he’s more relaxed about the way he dresses, or, he’s not as rich as he’d like to be. For both of them, I also adjusted their hairstyles. I gave Sci-Fi some lovely, long hair with relaxed locks drooping down to enhance that sweet look I was going for. Fantasy got long hair as well, and while it has definitely been taken care off, judging by how slicked back it is, it’s not perfect, and intentionally so. Perhaps he doesn’t care — or maybe he he think it looks good as it is.

Don’t be afraid to make changes if something about the design doesn’t seem right to you. Does Sci-Fi’s dress really need to be sleeveless? Would Fantasy really walk around in a blouse? What would the differences you’ve made say about the characters? Giving Sci-Fi those details makes her look a little more dressed up — perhaps it’s a uniform of some sort?

Think about the limitations you have. If you’re drawing modern or historical characters, you will have to be more careful with how much you change with the look. Would the characters, in their settings, actually wear that? Would it suit the world the live in, does it suit the look you’re going for? Make careful decisions when thinking about this. If you need to make drastic changes, I suggest you start a new drawing entirely. Sometimes it’s better to start fresh to think fresh.

It’s worth mentioning, also, that when looking at references, if it okay to bend the rules, especially if it’s a fantasy or sci-fi setting. Use your references as inspirations, not as a hard must. Go by instinct, even if you have a character in mind!

Notice the repeated patterns. For Sci-Fi, there’s little hard-edged shapes, except around her shoulders and boots. This is why it reminded me of a uniform of some sort — notice, also, how her design has a lot of cut-outs, which is a repeated pattern as well. For Fantasy, I decided to make his design overall more sharp, with a lot of pointed shapes. I made the sleeves loose, to make him look just a little less formal, and with buttons as well for a repeated pattern.

Remember to add accessories! They might be subtle, and to so some even unnoticeable, but they are important, and they are noticeable in their own light. You won’t notice the rings of a character who has their hands in their pockets, but as soon as they bring the fingers to their lips to giggle, you’ll certainly notice them when they are big, and shaped like skulls. No accecories says a lot about the characters as well. Disney’s Rapunzel does’nt not even have shoes — no accessories whatsoever, but Flynn Rider, however, has very visible belts, straps and a pouch. What does that say about them? Why does a thief need pouches? Does the girl locked indoors all her life need jewelry to decorate herself with and shoes to protect the floor from being covered in mud? Accessories are statement pieces, even from the most simple ribbon to a thick, studded, leather belt. I feel like Sci-Fi would enjoy taking care of her hair, so I put more volume to her hair and added hair pins to show that. With that, I added gloves and a rather odd bracelet — since i felt her outfit looked like a uniform of some sort, but not a professional one, but perhaps a game promoter, I wanted to finish that off with some ‘unneeded’, stylistic gloves. With Fantasy, I added add a big ribbon to his hair, to bring more light to his status, while keeping a few careless hairs in front of his face. In addition to this, I decided to add big, bulky rings, but also keeping a very small, subtle necklace hidden behind his frilled collar, and some decorations on his boots as well, repeating the pattern on his jacket for a finished look.

Note that small details such as these can be tricky if you’re an animator, hence why in cartoons details like these are either not existent or extremely simplified — if you don’t animate, there’s no reason for you not to add details. Don’t limit yourself!

It’s worth mentioning that bigger garments, such as outerwear, capes, etc, will make more of an impact and statement once you finish the design. The more space they take, the more important they will seem. As a general rule, one should save this for main and supportive characters and their villains. That’s not to say that minor or background characters can’t have capes and jackets — it all depends on how you draw them, how much space they take, and how much detail and thought you’re giving them. It doesn’t also mean that important characters all need large garments, but it’s definitely something worth keeping in mind.

And this is how the ‘finished’ look ends up like. It’s not perfect, and certainly needs more work (more time and effort!) but it certainly stands out more than the first example I showed you. Notice how the same palette was used, but keep in mind what I said about the hue and the contrasting colours. They’re less in-your-face now, and more complimentary. Naturally, shading is extremely useful if you want to finish the looks, because it allows you to add more details and more texture to the designs. 

With that said, when you colour, you might notice that you want to add more to your character designs — such as the green stripes on Sci-Fi, or the vivid, red details on Fantasy. 

However, as mentioned before, note that this is not the finished result. It’s a concept, and it should not be overthinked or overworked. Once you’ve spent a certain amount of time on one design, let it go and work on a new one later. You may draw the same design again, but improved, or you might find yourself draw a new design entirely. Both are fine and both options should be explored and tried out!

I hope that helped you. ♥ If you want to check out more of my tutorials, you can find them here.

Friends With Benefits: Bill Skarsgard... Chapter Nine

Originally posted by leave-me-colourless

Originally posted by ashtonphilia

I can’t explain to you how excited I was to finally be able to go and get a Christmas tree, I was practically bursting with anticipation of picking out a first tree together.

Bill didn’t care to share my enthusiasm because he knew that he’d be the one who had to cut it down and get it in the car, he’d also be the one who had to go into his loft and get all the decorations down.

“I can’t wait.” I grinned, my legs bopping away and my feet tapping against the soft mats in his car.

“I can’t believe we had to bring my car, there’s gonna be pine needles everywhere. Why couldn’t we just have gone and got a fake one?” Bill groaned, his head tipping back against the leather headrest.

“Shut up, Scrooge. You have just take your car to be valeted, after you’ve got all the decorations out of the attic first though obviously.” I smirked and he narrowed his eyes at me, pinching my thigh playfully.

“I’ve suddenly decided that I fucking hate Christmas.” He grumbled, flicking the radio station over from one that was playing the biggest hits to another that was blasting out Christmas songs.

He groaned louder and went to change the station again but I grabbed his hand in protest before he had the chance to, I pouted hard at him and he merely sighed and continued to drive, leaving me with a triumphant grin.

I’d always loved looking for a tree.

It was a childhood tradition, we’d all go out and hand pick a tree, we’d watch my Dad struggle to manoeuvre it into his estate car, and then we’d all drink cocoa while we decorated it.

I’d had a pretty decent childhood for being an only child and even though I was now estranged from my family, I couldn’t help but think of them at this time of year. Did they miss me? Did they think of me? Would we ever fix our broken bond?

I can’t deny that I missed them, I missed having a family unit. But I guess that Bill is my family now and that’s has basically been the case for the last year or so.

I couldn’t contain my excitement any longer and all but threw myself out of the car once we had arrived at the farm, the smell of the pine needles hit you almost immediately and I breathed in the scent of nostalgia.

It was crazy how just a certain smell could evoke different emotions and flash you back to being a child.

I swear Bill took purposely longer to get out of the car just to annoy me and I was almost jumping on the spot from where I was stood at the entrance, Bill casually strolled over to me and had his hand under his mustard coloured jumper, adjusting his grey t-shirt underneath and pulling his black jeans up. He’d also not long had a hair cut so it was slightly longer on the top and shorter on the sides, his sunglasses conveniently matched his whole attire too.

“Your zipper’s undone.” I pointed to his crotch and he immediately looked down, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“What? No it’s not.”

“Gotcha!” I grinned and he pursed his lips at me, shaking his head playfully before I grabbed his hand and basically dragged him through the entrance of the farm.

Bill released my hand and instead swung an arm around my shoulder, tightly pulling me into his side and pressing his lips to the side of my head.

“You’re kind of a dick.” He spoke against my skin and all I could do was let out a manic laugh, reaching up to lace my fingers through his as his hand relaxed against my shoulder.

There were hundreds of different lights covering the place, in an assortment of different colours and they also happened to be playing the classic Christmas hits, much to my boyfriend’s dismay.

My mouth was agape as I span around and took in my surroundings, taking in the beautiful sight of a variety of different sized trees and wreathes that they had for sale.

“I don’t know why we’re even bothering with a tree at my place when we’re going away, why couldn’t we just shove it in your apartment?” Bill asked, inspecting the needles on a tree.

“You’re gonna carry it up all those stairs then, yeah?” I replied, tilting my head to the side.

“No.” Bill spoke, pulling a sarcastic face at me.

“Well then, your place it is. And to answer your question, we’ll be back a couple of days before Christmas and it’ll be nice to have a tree. It’s our first Christmas as a couple, don’t you want it to be special?” I pouted, walking over to where he was stood and wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his chest.

“Of course I do, baby.” He said softly, leaning down to peck my nose.

I couldn’t help but gush internally at his use of pet names, I loved the way he spoke to me.

“Then we better get choosing the perfect one.”

We must have spent a good hour browsing through the vast amount of trees but there wasn’t one that I’d yet found that I knew was the one.

They were either too big or too small, too leafy or too sparse, to fat or too thin.

I’d almost given up hope and caved into Bill’s idea of just buying an artificial one, storing it in the loft for the next ten years and only bringing it out every December.

But, swamped in between the mass selection of tree was what could be described as, the chosen one

I knew we had to have it, it was perfect.

It was around six feet tall and the width was probably two feet, it was gorgeous, almost like it had been hand crafted.

“You sure this is the one?” Bill asked, looking it up and down.

I nodded enthusiastically and Bill chuckled at my childish behaviour.

“I’ll go let someone know then, keep guard and make sure nobody tries to steal it.” Bill joked, wondering off to go find a member of staff to cut our tree down and wrap it up in netting.

I know Bill was joking about protecting the tree but I wasn’t, I was going to defend that tree with my life and it was either coming home with us or goign home with nobody at all.

I glared at everyone who strolled past and glanced at the tree, I was essentially a bodyguard to an inanimate object.

I admit that I didn’t do a thing to help Bill get the tree in the car.

I merely watched on in amusement as he cussed away, dropping all the back seats in his Volvo to make space for the ginormous plant.

It was actually comical seeing him wrestle with the packaged tree, swearing under his breath once he’d managed to shove it in and close the trunk.

He scowled at me and all I could do in return was shoot him an innocent smile.

If I wasn’t amused before when he was loading the car, then I definitely was when he struggled to get it through his front door. It took both of us and once we finally got inside and to the lounge, it was a relief.

Bill helped me remove all the netting and get it into the mount, it was just about right for the space in the corner of Bill’s open lounge.

I think I owed it to Bill to help him get all the decorations out of the loft and it was actually a laugh to do so, we always managed to make any situation into a wacky one, even when it probably wasn’t appropriate.

But, one of the things that made us perfect for one another was definitely our sense our humour.

It took us a few hours to decorate the Christmas tree, between us just pratting around and taking the time to stop for dinner.

Once it was finished though, it was a sight to be seen. 

We’d stuck with a theme of classic colours, like green and red with accents of gold. To be truthful we had to stick with this theme as it was the only decorations Bill had, from where he’d celebrated Christmas before and picked them out himself.

Bill was fiddling with the remote that operated the lights, changing the settings of the white bulbs.

 I couldn’t help but tilt my head to the side with a frown, biting my lip.

“It’s wonky.” I stated, standing up straight and folding my arms across my chest.

Bill stopped messing with he remote, settling on a setting that made the lights twinkle ever so gently. He came and stood next to me, also crossing his arms.

“It’s not wonky.” He denied, pursing his lips.

“Bill, it’s literally tilting.”

“That’s just your eyes, I put that thing in the stand myself.” Bill said, draping his arm around my waist.

“That’s exactly why it’s wonky.” I mumbled.

“Yeah? Like you could have done a better job.” He scoffed, turning me to face him.

“I could have done such a better job.” I teased, rubbing my nose along his chiselled jawline.

“Hmmm, I bet.”

“I can’t believe we leave for New York in a week, I’m so excited.” I giggled, standing on my tip toes and reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck.

“It’s gonna be the best vacation ever, no disruptions or work.” He sighed, his green eyes fluttering shut.

“I can’t wait.”


- Just a very short one because I wanted to make sure there was something up for you guys since I haven’t posted an update in forever. Nothing too crazy as I just wanted something sweet after the intensity of the last chapter, hope you all enjoy!

His Colours

I absolutely love this. I’m unsure about the quality but the idea - I’m in love. I can imagine this boy with his colours and his grin so clearly and he’s already managed to tug at my heart over the few days I’ve been writing it. I truly and deeply hope you enjoy it. Please enjoy.

The trees smile down protectively over the shrubbery and dirt, they block out the sun to the best of their ability but the sun manages to glare through the branches every once in a while.

It’s peaceful, which is why I enjoy spending time hidden and surrounded by nature, miles from any human contact. I sit between to gigantic roots, my flask balancing on top of the left one like a first-rate acrobat and my backpack resting at my feet.

I’m a tiny fraction of the forest. I barely makes one whole percent, and the idea of it fills me with contentment, along with a dash of curiosity. Wondering just how far out the trees have taken over and made the land their own, I’m left to scan my surroundings.

It’s murky in every direction, but the darkness doesn’t take over until much further away, as though there’s something in the far distance that someone doesn’t want me to see, so they result in blacking it out, erasing it from my vision.

The odd bird will chirp high up in the trees and - in the opposite direction - another will attempt to imitate it. This happens so often that I become used to it and its effect weakens so that I’m no longer startled by it as I was to begin with.

I’m content as I sit under the tree, feeling its hard bark pressing into my back, and I take a sip of the hot chocolate that stays heated and creamy within my flask. The sweet smell of chocolate would probably be feeling my senses if it wasn’t for the dirt and wood having such an effect.

There’s a slight gush of wind and it causes the bushes nearby to dance against it. I try to tell myself that a chill runs down my back because of the sudden wind, not because of fear creeping into my stomach.

The time ticks by and the air gets colder with each minute that passes, although I hardly notice because I become so involved with the words of Stephen King, they’re printed beautifully across the pages but they turn into one whole blur as my eyes swing from left to right.

There’s another shaking of leaves ahead of me, but my mind and my body know not to be afraid at this point so I don’t move.

Wendy and Danny Torrance are shopping for Christmas presents in the world within my book, and I find myself adoring Jack Torrance, despite knowing things are taking their time to go down the steep hill. My heart drops into my stomach and my neck cracks from the force of lifting it so suddenly when I hear the snapping of twigs ahead of me.

The darkness is a curtain, stopping me from seeing more than fifty feet in front of me. It only heightens the panic that I thought was nonexistent. Cautiously, I close my book and rest it on the tree trunk beside me. I watch the darkness and wait.

My heart is alive and angry. It’s threatening to slide up my throat and in my mouth. I swallow and get the feeling I’m going to throw up, I rub my hands together slowly as a stupid attempt to distract myself.

Whether it’s my imagination - with my panic having a say in it also - or my ears telling me the truth, I’m not sure, but I hear a low growl coming from the black. A gasp betrays my secret vow to keep as quiet as possible and leaves my lips.

Before I can do anything, (not that I had any smart plan in mind) there’s a movement too clear to have been a trick of the light, or my imagination. A set of black boots appear out of the shadows; they’re layered with dried mud splatters and the laces - maybe once as yellow as the sun - are now frayed and a mix of dark green and a light brown. While my eyes are inspecting them, they move closer to me. 

The black boots are followed by black jeans that seem to fit securely around the legs. There’s rips and tears that don’t look like the usual you see on teenagers; I don’t think these ones are voluntary.  The skin beneath them looks unusual but I decide it’s likely to be because of the darkness clouding my vision.

I’ve been too busy collecting tiny bits of insignificant features that I didn’t realise the pressure that seems to be increasing on my back. I’ve been leaning back so much that the bark of the tree is digging into the skin between my shoulder blades, I assume it’ll leave marks for a few hours.

I chance a glance at the figure once more and see a set of eyes staring at me, burning into my entire being. They looked as though they were glowing.

It’s silent for some time, although I can hear my heart thumping violently inside of me skull and my ears are starting to ring. The figure is getting closer.

I want to scream and run as fast as my legs can carry me, I want to cry out for help, but all I manage to do is part my lips, expecting some coherent sentence to come out.

“What are you doing here?” the figures asks and a shiver - that is definitely not caused by the wind this time  - shocks my spine.

The moonlight decides to help me by casting a soft light on the figure. I can see the top of their head shines a caramel colour and the hair swipes back with a messy look. I’m not able to keep my gaze on their hair because almost instantly, something else catches my eye.

Along the skin, red marks glow like a fire in full force. The patterns don’t see to have any specific form but instead, random and unsystematic across every inch of visible skin.

“Answer me.”

The breath hitches in my throat as though someone has reached down into me and stopped me from being able to do anything but stare with panic. My feet feel glued to the dirt layering the ground.

“I-I, I wasn’t doing anything-“

“You shouldn’t be here. These aren’t your parts. You’re mundane, a normal.”

To this, I can’t help but frown. The boy didn’t seem to attempt to ease his disgust at the words ‘mundane’ and ‘normal’ to avoid offended me. Despite this, I’m too terrified by the whole situation to bring it up.

The boy - whose age seems to show the closer he gets, I can see the darkness under his eyes and the frown set onto his forehead, but his skin looked smooth and ironed out - watched me closely with dark eyes. They were dangerously close to being completely black.

“What’s your name?” he asks, and when his pink lips part, I can see his canines are sharp and glistening white. A silent gasp travels up my dry throat.

“I was taught not to talk to strangers, never mind going around and telling them my name willy-nilly.” I surprise myself with the amount of strength behind my words.

“You’ve already shown you’re incapable of following rules; you’ve spoken to me plenty a time already.”

I ignore his remark and catch another glimpse of his arms. The marks infesting his arms were no longer just red, but yellow and black also. Maybe I just hadn’t noticed them previously.

“What did you mean by ‘mundane’ and ‘normal’?” I take the risk of asking, and in response, I see the boy’s unlighted eyes staring into my own.

“Well,” he starts. “The official definition is the lacking of excitement or interest- dull even, but I implied that you’re ordinary, you’re normal. Human.”

At this, I laughed. I can tell it took the boy by surprise because the scowl lifted off of his face momentarily while he raised an eyebrow. “And what are you? Some kind of abnormal being?”

“I’ve been called that before, yes, but that’s not my official title.”

I scan his face for some sign of amusement but find nothing. The level of confusion within my body sky-rockets and I’m uncertain of my strength of containing it. The atmosphere seems to change ever so slowly, and being able to see the full figure of the boy, it makes it less daunting and I’m able to stand somewhat confidently.

“What are those on your arms?”

He looks down at them as though he was only just noticing they were there. The red appears to be fading but I can’t be sure due to the dark.

“My marks,” he mutters proudly. “Pointless and a rather weak strategy, but I think they add a little something.”

“Is that how you know I’m human? Because I don’t have any of those?” I ask slowly; weirdly, not wanting to wipe the pride off this boy’s face.

He nods, “and you humans have a different scent. Yours seems to be attempting to mix with the scent of sandalwood and dirt.” He clocks the flush that rises to centre of my cheeks and the shock in my expression. “Although I assume that has to do with the fact that you’re strolling around the middle of the forest in the early evening.”

“What’s the problem? Am I not allowed to be here? Is there some kind of law that says humans aren’t supposed to mix with your - supposedly - different kind?”

“Of course not, each of us merely agreed to stay away from each other when we clashed a few hundred years ago. If you looked, there’s a high chance you’d see a sign saying ‘keep out’ in big black letters at the entrance to this place.”

After being stood in the open space for so long, the boy walks over to my spot between the two tree trunks and sits down. When he bends his leg I can see the swirling patterns through the rips in his jeans.

“So, you’re not human?” I question, taking a step forward.

“No,” he replies. “But I have no way of showing you and quite frankly, I couldn’t care less whether you’re convinced or not.”

The razor-sharp teeth and the near-black eyes and the colours of his skin, still fading and appearing and changing, they’re all doing an incredible job of convincing her that this wasn’t a dream, and he was most definitely not human.

“What are you going to do? Kill me?”

“Don’t be stupid, I don’t have any of my torture weapons with me,” he states calmly and lets his pointer finger twirl around the lid of my flask. “There’s nothing I can do. You haven’t really done anything wrong, besides trespassing.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to-“

“Forget it. You should count your lucky stars it was me who found you and not someone else, they’re not so forgiving.”

I bite my tongue and take a seat at the other side of the tree trunk. It becomes a wall between us. I grab my flask, snap the lid open and take a sip. I’m thankful to be able to feel the warm liquid seeping into my system and heating my body.

I’m unable to believe mere moments ago I was contemplating running for my life when this boy seems harmless, (I call him a boy due to the fact that I’m unsure as to what he is.)

“Would, would you like some?” I ask politely without thinking and I can feel my cheeks buzzing softly.

“What is it?”

“It was hot chocolate, but now, it’s more lukewarm chocolate.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t.” He looks between the flask and my face, probably seeing my hesitant wonder. “My system wouldn’t have it. It could either have minor affects, a little bit of throwing up and spitting blood here and there, or I’d drop dead in a matter of hours. I like to think of myself as a bit of a chancer, but a hot drink doesn’t seem worth it.”

I’m given more information than I expected, and all I can do is nod, pulling the flask slowly into my lap. “So, those marks, how’d you get them?”

“Do you always ask a lot of questions?” He turns to look at me. I don’t think his facial expression has changed once yet.

I’m taken aback and I cower like an abandoned puppy. “Sorry,” I mutter.

It’s quiet for a moment and I can see the boy tracing the patterns on his skin. The yellows are burning bright now and the red seems to be being replaced with browns and greys. I’m itching to know what he’s feeling.

“I’ve had them since birth, I was born with them,” he murmurs, not looking at me.

“They’re quite pretty,” I say, biting the edge of the flask now.

He chuckles. “Thank you, human. I have to say, your skin is quite boring.” He grins and I’m able to be given front row seats to the view of his sharp teeth. I wonder how much damage they could do.

“I have to agree with you on that. You must feel artistically beautiful all the time with those things.”

“Not really, because while you’re seeing these for the first time, they’re normal for my kind so they’re not a big deal. It’s nice to have them appreciated though.”

Orange seeps onto his skin, moving from his fingertips to his elbows. I watch it happen in complete awe.

His colours radiated slightly now, and I could see pink creeping up his neck due to his cheeks flushing, not the patterns. He looks embarrassed and I can’t understand why. He folds his arms over each other. The orange and the yellow and the brown and the grey are the only colours that I can see; everything is being dominated by the darkness except his colours.

“What do the colours mean?”

He sighs and I cringe, knowing I’ve asked yet another question. “It’s difficult because colours can mean a lot of different things. For example, that orange is me being cheerful because I liked the idea of someone appreciating my marks, and that brown- it’s fading now, but that was boredom. The grey was me being uninterested, but look, now that the conversation has steered towards me, it’s fading.” The boy flashes a playful smirk and runs his slender fingers through his jungle of hair.

“And what does the yellow mean?” I ask, pointing to the colour burning bright on the back of his upper arm. He cranes his neck to find it immediately.

“Oh, that’s hunger. I’m starving.”

I remember that I have a chocolate bar in my bag and gently reach to grab it as it sits at his feet. I rummage through it but pause instantly.

“W-what do you eat?” My hand is wrapped around the chocolate bar, but I wait for him to speak.

“I love dead bird with a side dish of human fingers, and some blood for drinking.” I think he sees my body retract and my face drop because he laughs loudly. The yellow spreads and I assume that it means something different. “I’m kidding, what’d’you got?”

A big gush of relief washes over me and I pull the bar out of my bag. He takes it without another word and unwraps it. I sit back against the tree and let the silence take me under. Hugging the flask to my chest, I listen as the boy devours the chocolate bar gratefully. It’s still fairly dark in the forest, but the boy illuminates the space around us with his colours - blue, yellow, orange and a hint of red blend glimmer on their own accord.

Riverdale Imagine: The Playbook (Jason x Reader)

Requested by @pottersnitch : Could you please write something about Jason Blossom? Like he and the reader are dating and then she finds out about the playbook and have a huge fight but make up because of Cheryl.

 A/N: I had to type this up on my phone so there may be some spelling errors and I couldn’t put anything in bold/italics so I’ll edit it on my computer and add it to my masterlist when I get home from holiday. 

Approx. 2200 words 

As you rolled over in bed, the nausea you had been experiencing throughout the day threatened to resurface. You groaned and clutched at your empty stomach, it churned as if it was filled with a nest of slimy eels. You were drenched in sweat from fever, you knew that your bedroom was cold because it was the middle of winter and you could see the cloud of your breath escaping from your chapped lips as you exhaled, but the sickness-bug had trapped you in a permanent humidity. At some point during the day, you had even opened your bedroom window, and frost was beginning to creep onto the window sill. Hearing a gentle knock on your door, you forced yourself into a sitting-position, resting on a mountain of cushions. 

“Come in” you called weakly. 

“How’s the patient?” you heard your favourite voice tease. You felt a smile spread across your face as a familiar red-haired boy peered around your door, his brown eyes regarding you with concern, making your heart flutter involuntarily. The few months that you and Jason had been together had felt like a dream. You had been pining after him for the majority of your high-school life, and you still couldn’t quite believe that he was yours. As he almost glided into your room and cautiously sat down on the edge of your bed, a lock of his silky hair fell onto his forehead and you couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful. He didn’t have Archie’s muscular frame, or Reggie’s charming smile, but somehow he was much more attractive than any of the other boys at school. He looked delicate, like a porcelain doll with his pale complexion and angular features, and his muscle was lean and wiry, clinging to his lanky frame. He was just as strong as any other boy on the football team though, he would always carry you around at any opportunity, gathering you up like a princess in his arms. You watched in fascination as his long white fingers danced over the skin of your arm, the sensation of his touch sending what felt like an electric current through your body. You wondered if you would ever get used to this, or would his touch always make your heart lurch. Suddenly, his concerned expression turned into one of disapproval as his attention was caught by the open window, he frowned. 

“Y/N! No wonder you’re ill, it’s like Narnia in here!” Jason groaned, hastily closing your window. 

“No JJ!” you wined, “I’m too hot!” He sighed and opened the window again, but only slightly. 

“I brought you some ginger tea” he said proudly, pulling an enormous flask from his school bag, smiling like a child who had received a gold star. “It’s supposed to help with nausea.” You groaned internally. Your mum had practically been force-feeding you ginger tea for two days and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You smiled graciously at Jason though, it’s the though that counts after all, you could always pour it down the sink later. 

“Thanks babe, that’s so sweet of you” you enthused. “Also, could I possibly borrow your English book so I can catch up on today’s notes?” He quickly dug through his bag and handed you the typical dark-green notebook that everyone used for English, before checking the time and muttering something about extra football practice. He leant towards you and kissed you sweetly on the cheek, his long lashes brushed your temple and his warm breath on your skin made your cheeks blush pink. He smelled like pine-wood and maple syrup and you wondered if you would ever stop loving this boy, you thought it was unlikely.

Keep reading

I’m pretty proud of the language in this one. It’s been so long since i’ve written anything solely Loki that I’m concerned it’s drifted from his character. Also Asgardian!Reader is my new favourite thing - I hope you guys like it too. This request was made by @luchmich and I think it’s the first Christmas fic I’ve written ACTUALLY about Christmas! All of the other ones were just about snow. Not all that Chrristmassy to be honest, depending on where you live… Ah well, enjoy!

“Midgard Traditions”

The palace was wonderfully quiet in the evening. The only sound that could be heard was the soft padding of your feet on the crimson carpet as you wandered through it. Your mother was a close friend of The Allmother, Queen Frigga, so every year when the world was at its coldest and the nights at their longest, you and your family were invited to the castle for several weeks.

As you turned a corner, you felt a slender arm link with yours. Loki pulled you against his hip and fell into step with you.
“Good evening.” He smiled. You bowed your head.
“My prince.”
“Every year you refer to me thusly, and every year I must remind you not to.”
“Then I suggest you desist, as your words are having no effect.”

Keep reading

Something New- Chapter 1 (Trixya) - Julie

AN: Hi guys, this is my first time submitting and I’m really nervous. English also isn’t my first language so apologies in advance for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. Thanks for reading! - Julie

Brian is a single dad who just moved to La with his daughter. There he meets his somewhat weird neighbour Katya.

Keep reading

I’ve had a partial Danny Phantom fic dealing with Danny and Mr. Lancer sitting untouched on my computer for about three years now, so I figured I’d throw the start of it out into the tumblr void (admittedly this part was meant to be the hook but oh well).

(The Trouble with Ghosts: Prologue/Part I/Part II/Part III/Part IV/Part V)

Mr. Lancer stared in shock at the boy in front of him. He was having trouble believing his eyes. It couldn’t possibly be…. But it was. He knew it had to be, even if he didn’t understand why.

To keep such a secret from nearly everyone….

His parents couldn’t know. Lancer was certain of it. Knowing them, they would have tried to do something about it. But if he’d learned anything from teaching the child, it was that young Mr. Fenton was stubborn. He would have kept on doing it if he felt he was doing the right thing, which he surely did. Nothing his parents said would have been able to dissuade him.

But to see him now would surely break Mr. and Mrs. Fentons’ hearts, however proud they might have been of their son for following in their footsteps and hunting ghosts.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

The green smears along the classroom floor were Danny Phantom’s ectoplasm, Lancer knew. The wounds had been deep, and they had taken more out of him than he had known. The lifeblood of Amity Park’s infamous ghost boy had finally been shed with the hunter’s blow. Though Lancer didn’t want to admit it, he wasn’t certain that the boy’s remarkable resilience would be enough this time.

The smudged handprint on the classroom door had been what had first alerted him to this scene. The normal, eerie glow that he usually associated with ectoplasm had been conspicuously absent. There was only the odd speck of ectoplasm between the door and the first desk, but after that, it was clear that Phantom had collapsed. The legs of the desks were sticky with drying ectoplasm, the path to one particular desk laid out in dull, sickly green.

The streaks made it clear that Phantom had been reduced to crawling. Inching his way along, trying to keep moving. But the greatest amount of green was the stain beneath the desk Danny Fenton currently occupied. The pooled ectoplasm still held the distinct shimmer that the other traces had lost, betraying its origin. The alarming size of the pool meant that despite Phantom’s efforts, he couldn’t stem the flow. And to make matters worse, the stain on the tile was growing.

It was the mixture that made Lancer’s stomach turn as much as the sight of poor Danny Fenton himself. Drying swirls of red danced amongst the green, making mockery of the Christmas colours. These two did not belong together, not here, not like this. And yet there they were, defying everything. Ectoplasm and blood.

The green marks were replaced by red, stretching up the desk. Red coated metal, running along chipped paint before pooling into droplets about to fall. It filled the graffiti on the desktop left by various children over the years, emphasizing the scratched-in scribblings of the past. Most distressingly, the blood still oozed from the wounds. It slid down matted hair already slippery with the fluid. Dripped steadily from the slick tips. Landed on the desk and blossomed outwards, gliding downwards toward the edge, ready to gather, waiting to fall, eager to mix with the green coating that marred the white tile floor.

Lancer could not see much of Danny from this angle, particularly as the boy was slumped over the front of the desk, but there was no denying that it was him. It was also no question that he was hurt terribly. He was so pale. He’d lost so much blood.

Lord of the Flies, Mr. Fenton,” Lancer murmured, his eyes following a dark red droplet as it fell free from the desk’s edge and tumbled onto the floor. Drop by drop. One after the other. A drip far too steady for comfort. “How did this happen to you?”

Christmas themed fic (already)

Okay, this fic is for @sickfickid, who’s been having a really tough time right now. I hope this helps just a little bit. Also thanks to @emetoandotherthings who helped me bounce ideas around! It’s pretty long for me, I hope you guys enjoy it.

Warning: descriptions of vomit below.

The holidays were always difficult for Alistair, but Christmas was one of the worst. His parents had almost always demanded that Alistair come home - there were parties and family meals he had to attend, whether he wanted to or not. Since he’d cut them off now, Julius was ecstatic to have his boyfriend come home with him.

Christmas with Julius’s family was a revelation for Alistair. Back at his own home, all decorations had been professional set up, the meals prepared by hired catering staff, a huge showy tree set up with carefully wrapped presents below. But those presents were just empty boxes inside, for show - it was all for show, there was no real warmth or love there, and Alistair woke on Christmas morning with no presents or kind words.

Julius’s family did everything differently. Christmas Eve brought tree decorating and making wonky gingerbread houses. They tried to get Alistair to join in too, but he was severely overwhelmed at first, so he simply watched as fifteen year old Blaise, ten year old Poppy and Julius hung each dinky little ornament on the green branches.

Alistair was used to the colour coordinated, carefully planned, fancy trees of his childhood - this one was odd and mismatched and standing slightly wonky. Alistair liked it much better.

With a lot of prodding and badgering (and several kisses), Julius managed to get Alistair to join in with the gingerbread houses. The red-head couldn’t cook the simplest dish, but he was strangely good at fancy icing. He added delicate piping patterns to the little door and the minute window frames, iced exquisite snowflakes on the gingerbread walls, and patiently stuck gumdrop tiles all over the roof.

It was difficult at first - Alistair was so used to getting punished that he panicked whenever he made a mistake. It wasn’t until Poppy’s house collapsed completely, prompting laughter rather than anger, that Alistair relaxed and started to laugh and join in too.

Christmas Eve night, however, wasn’t as quiet and peaceful as everyone had hoped. The Summers kids had all started feeling uneasy in the evening, and even Poppy, who usually fought to stay up, had gone up to bed early.

Julius tossed and turned in bed, slumping on top of Alistair, kicking at the blankets. After a while, Alistair gave an irritable sigh.

“What are you doing, Jules?” he mumbled sleepily. Julius whimpered imploringly, wanting cuddles.

“My stomach feels really bad…” he whispered, clinging to Alistair tight. The red-head was immediately wide awake, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy and stroking his curls.

“Try to breathe through it. We ate a lot of sweet stuff today. That might be it.”

Alistair held his boyfriend tight, running gentle fingers up and down Julius’s quivering back, sleepily mumbling words of comfort. Julius tried to breathe, sucking in gusts of air and blowing it out through his mouth like a woman in labour, but the nausea only increased. Soon Julius’s curls were sticky and damp with sweat, he was continually swallowing bitter bile, and his tummy was groaning and gurgling so loudly that Alistair could hear it too.

“Fuck, that sounds bad, Jules… Do you want water or something?” Alistair asked anxiously. Julius made a strangled gulping noise, looking panicked.


“Fuck, shit, okay!” Alistair cried frantically, leaping out of bed and scooping Julius up in his arms, dashing to the bathroom. Julius kept a hand clamped to his lips, heaving violently against his palm.

Julius lost control just as Alistair was lowering him onto the bathroom floor, and a violent stream of vomit splashed onto the floor, the toilet seat and Julius’s own lap. The sick boy burst out crying in dismay, but his wails were soon cut off by another wave of puke, splashing unpleasantly into the toilet bowl. Alistair rubbed Julius’s back firmly, holding his hand tight.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about the mess. Just focus on breathing and keeping calm. I’m right here…” he mumbled into Julius’s hair as the boy coughed and whimpered.

Elsewhere in the house Alistair could hear sudden noise, footsteps and voices, Poppy sobbing. He assumed the sound of poor Julius vomiting had woken them, and was surprised that Julius’s mother - Carol Summers - didn’t dash along to the bathroom to care for her precious son.

Eventually, when the stream of vomit pouring out of Julius had slowed to the odd mouthful, Alistair heard footsteps running to the bathroom. But this wasn’t Carol’s firm, steady tread - these footsteps were light and skittering.

It was Blaise, who burst into the toilet a moment later, a wild, panicked look in his eyes, his face white as ice cream against his black hair. Alistair couldn’t really ask what was wrong - Blaise had been left unable to hear after a meningitis complication as a toddler, and Alistair didn’t know sign language - but in the end he didn’t have to. Blaise dashed to the bathroom sink without pausing, and immediately vomited into it so violently that the mess slopped out onto the floor.

Alistair jumped, sighing. “Shit, you too?” He kept hold of Julius’s hand, but he reached over and swept Blaise’s dark hair back with his other hand - the boy’s hair was chin length, and the ends were in danger of dangling in the sick.

Carol eventually came to the bathroom door, sighing heavily. She was in her nightdress, her black curls loose down her back, looking surprisingly girlish.

“Well, that makes three of you. I’m sorry, I’d have come sooner, but Poppy was sick all over her bedroom floor,” she said tiredly, taking over Blaise so Alistair could go back to coddling Julius.

“Jesus, who’s poisoned your kids, Carol?” Alistair asked. He’d never been polite enough to call her Mrs Summers, she’d been Carol since the day they’d first met when Alistair was thirteen.

“Their father, that’s who. I should teach that fool how to cook chicken properly,” she said irritably, handing Blaise a tissue to wipe his mouth. “He’s not even here to help now either, he’s working tonight. We’re lucky to have him back tomorrow for Christmas Day - there tend to be more fires around Christmas time, what with the electrical faults from the decorations.”

Alistair squirmed uncomfortably. Julius’s father was a firefighter, and Alistair was almost certain that there were times growing up when he knew Alistair was the serial arsonist who’d been causing the firefighters a lot of grief. Alistair wasn’t sensible enough to be discreet about it back then, he’d often turn up at Julius’s place right after he’d dashed from the scene, with wild eyes and sooty hands, reeking of smoke. Alistair never knew why Julius’s father didn’t turn him in; perhaps it was for Julius’s sake, or maybe he could see that a criminal record wasn’t going to help a troubled kid like Alistair.

Poppy started wailing from the bedroom, demanding that Carol come back and look after her right now. Carol was still mopping Blaise up, rolling her eyes. She glanced at Alistair.

“Could you take care of Juli while I sort these two?” she asked. Alistair nodded, cuddling Julius protectively.


Carol smirked and tugged Blaise out of the bathroom, responding briskly to Poppy’s imperious demands. Alistair focused on Julius, wiping his boyfriend's pale lips, flushing the mess in the toilet and changing Julius’s stained pyjama pants. Julius accepted all this without protest, but he pulled away when Alistair tried to slip a jacket over his shoulders.

“But you need it, Jules. You’re shivering,” Alistair protested, rubbing his hands up Julius’s trembling arms. They were dotted with goose pimples. Julius still pushed his jacket away stubbornly.

“I don’t want mine. I want your jacket. One that smells like you,” Julius mumbled, his eyes very big and soft. Alistair had to catch his breath. He didn’t quite know how to react, so in the end he just blushed fiercely and gave a curt nod, dashing off to get one of his own jackets. It made Julius smile weakly.

“You’re always stealing my clothes,” Alistair said, when Julius was happily huddled in one of the red-head’s own big jackets in the kitchen, waiting for Alistair to make tea.

“I’m your boyfriend. It’s my job,” Julius said, giggling feebly. He was sat at the kitchen table, still looking rather pale and wan, the sleeves of the jacket covering his hands, his bare legs dangling.

Alistair stared at this boy - this sweet, kind boy who still loved him after everything, who begged to wear Alistair’s jacket just because his scent lingered in the fabric - and he suddenly dashed over, wrapping his arms around Julius’s neck, burying his face in the boy’s mess of curls. Julius smiled fondly, leaning against the red-head.  

“Uh-oh! I caught you!”

It was Carol, shaking her head and tutting, pretending to disapprove, though she was grinning. “I finally got Poppy back off to sleep. Blaise is going to read a while, he still feels queasy. How’re you feeling, Juli?”

“Not too bad. A little bit off,” Julius replied weakly. Carol smiled at her son.

“I’ve put a bucket beside your bed just in case. I’m sure Alistair Renfrew can look after you better than me.”

Alistair stared at Carol, stricken. He knew she’d been paying him a compliment, but using his surname had been like a slap in the face. He’d been feeling so accepted in Julius’s house, as if he really truly belonged there. But hearing his surname made Alistair feel as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over him. He wasn’t part of this family, with their soft traditions and their care and their easy love that remained unconditionally. He was an outsider, a Renfrew - and they didn’t want him either.

Alistair suddenly burst into tears, astonishing Carol and Julius.

“Star! What’s the matter?”

“Goodness, what’s wrong? Did I say something?”

Alistair wiped his cheeks angrily with his fists, though he couldn’t stop the tears flowing. He turned on Carol. “I know I don’t belong, okay? I know I don’t fit in with your perfect fucking family. But you don’t have to rub it in, always using my full name,” he sobbed, practically shouting, his cheeks flushed. He turned on his heel, meaning to go cry and brood in private, but Carol leapt forward and clasped his wrist tightly.

“Alistair, listen to me -”

“Get off me!”

“Shut up a minute,” Carol ordered, holding Alistair so tightly he couldn’t pull away. She paused for a second, scrutinising the sobbing boy - and her face suddenly softened, practically melting. She pulled Alistair close and held him against the firm cushion of her chest, rocking him like a baby. Alistair didn’t even bother to fight, especially when Julius leapt up and joined in the hug too.

The red-head just held onto his boyfriend and sobbed against Carol. She wasn’t his mother, not by blood, but she’d done all the mother things since Alistair had known her; she’d placed a cold cloth on his forehead when he was feverish, she’d rubbed his back when he was sick, she’d held him when he cried - just like she was doing now.

“Now you listen to me, Alistair. Listen properly,” Carol said, lifting the red-head’s chin. “You may not be my child by blood - though I fully expect you to be a son-in-law one day - but this is where you belong, okay? You’re family to us now, it’d be strange if we didn’t have you. This is your family now. We love you.”

Alistair stared at her, shocked. Carol bravely met his eyes, her face earnest, open, honest. Even Alistair, who was naturally sceptical, could see she meant every word. Julius was beaming, his hand squeezing Alistair’s hard, showing he fervently agreed with his mother’s words.

Alistair didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry - in the end he remained silent, but he gave Carol and Julius the biggest smile of his life, holding them both so tightly he left little finger marks on their skin.

Despite everything, in that moment, Alistair was happy. It seemed likely they’d  all have a very queasy Christmas Day, and Alistair knew he’d probably still be haunted by memories of his own blood family - but right then he was smiling, though his cheeks were still tear stained and he still shook with emotion.

Puppygate the truth

 Author Ladyoftheteaandblood

Alternative Tom and Conny fic

With Tom you were never really sure what you would get from day to day. One minute it would be Mr Serious Shakespeare, all thoughts and pondering. The next it would be a giant Monty python dork, arsing about the Kitchen with a wooden spoon, killing knights that refused to die. Which is one of the main reasons I loved him.

So it came as no surprise to me as to what he’d been up to lately, I choose to ignore him and not let on I knew his game, let’s see what he does.

“Hi my darling” where his first words as he quickly disconnected from the call he was about to make, and stood in the kitchen looking all guilty.

“Hi gorgeous, what’s your plan for today?” I asked knowing full well his answer.

“Oh I’m seeing little sis to cheer her up, hubby is away and small is teething. Thought I’d give her a break and do the long walk around the rooms while small screams in my ears. You don’t mind do you?”

“Well as I’m working and it will keep you out of mischief it sounds like a plan to me, and off I went to work.

Later in the day just before the escape to home, I told everyone in the office my weird dream from the night before.

Quick help here. when I was little we had a kids programme called Blue Peter. Three presenters would host a show that had them doing god knows what, skydiving, cooking, making gifts out of crap, climbing up tall building and explaining how stuff worked. Each presenter had a show pet, dog, cat tortoise, that walked about the set, disappearing the minute the cameras aimed at them. Thus making the ‘this is how you look after your whatever’, segment very difficult.

I dreamt that Tom took on the role of a presenter and had little sister’s puppy haha, ‘Bobby the bold’ as his show time buddy.

In the dream he was doing a make a Ragnarok set for your little action figures play on, using sticky back plastic and Paper Mache. Oh god you should have seen the mess. Even poor puppy power was splattered. And Tom was, well Tom doing anything that involves glue or sticky stuff totally covered.

The next article had been a, we made the presenter do something dangerous and prayed they kept their language clean. Tom got to jump out a high tower on a zipline and children’s TV will never be the same as he told the whole world his colourful thoughts about being as high. Bobby had then jumped out in perfect style in a little tux, looking like a doggy Bond and I’d laughed so hard I woke up.

The guys at work were also in fits as I explained the dream in all its happy silly details. Adrian who as normal had also been trawling the web at the same time as listening to me said,

“Oh Conny look it’s your cute BF with a dog in London” 

Sure enough there was the reprobate out on the London street dog in his arms, and by the looks of the background he was heading for home. Well this could be interesting.

A voice from the kitchen greeted me as I walked in,

“Hi sexy how was your day, good I hope” oh I bet you do I thought.

“Um I have something to …um ….tell you” and with that he opened the kitchen door and out dashed the tiny terror.

“Oh are we looking after him again?” I asked all innocently.

“Could say that…um….shit…don’t kill me…we are sort of looking after him  on a full time basis, you see he’s mime!”

“No shit Sherlock!” I said, I could see Tom was waiting for me to explode.

Now how are you going to convince Roper it’s a good plan Mr!”

At which point the cat in question (good kitty) came in, and Bobby seeing him dashed over, Roper kindly swiped the poor puppies hooter,  did a bum wiggle like some irate diva and strutted upstairs. Leaving a confused puppy behind him and Tom scooping him up and consoling him over his hurt button nose.

“Seems Roper has just said who’s boss” I said and almost laughed at the two hurt faces looking at me.

“Oh well I’m off to get changed” and I did the same diva arse wiggle and followed Roper upstairs.

A little later I was still up there and Tom thinking I was angry sent in the pup. Yes, in through the bedroom door came the small four pawed cutie. Roper from the bed gave a half-hearted growl then turned his back on him but me I picked the furry pickle up and once I’d done with him I wandered down the stairs.

“Oh there you are, I thought you were too angry to talk to me.

I am sorry I know that a big decision like getting a puppy should have been an us thing but he bamboozle me with his big brown eyes, and I was lost to all thoughts apart from I want, just like your big brown eyes did to me when we first met.” He took me in his arms and then gave me a huge Hiddles hug till he opened his eyes and saw Bobby coming down the stairs.

“What the Fxxk” for Bobby was wearing a smart Doggy tux

“Darling think how cute he’ll look on the red carpet?” I said smiling.

“Conny you shit, you knew”

“Little sister let the cat out the bag when you were filming last week. She was none too pleased you had yet to inform me of your somewhat rash purchase and wanted to have her house back. It only seemed fair to play you at your own game and leave you in a panic as to how to tell me. Bobby was here all last week, I had to get him back to Sis to keep it going” I said laughing at the disbelief on Toms face.

“Cruel lady, I’ve been worried sick as how to tell you, and Roper how’s he about it?”

“Oh he growls at him with no malice behind it and in the evening, should he so wish, he lets Bobby curl up with him. I think he also takes the piss of his jumper”

“Jumper?” Tom looked somewhat confused 

“I got him a jumper it’s adorable. You should see his Christmas one, you have the matching one to it. Won’t you two look adorable on the family Christmas card?!”


@anovidelonghi @aggro-femme @antyc67 @acebakes @aliceada @abfoster1s @archy3001 @booksandcatslover @bluegrasscontessa @finney13s @frenchblondgirl @feelmyroarrrr @damageditem @izhunny @booksandcatslover @echantedbytwh @enchantedbyhiddles @heathermc13 @larouau12 @lostinspace33 @lolawashere @maevecurrywrites @mrshiddelston @marveloznerd @october-green @oeffsee @omninocte @ourladybinxthings @peskipixi @prplprincez @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @servent-alearika @siyoteodiara @sf0206 @tinaferraldo @tomforachange @tomkurbikston @neither-blue-nor-green @fairlightswiftly @lordjohnandtom @nuggsmum @kellarter @mad-about-britain @hakimo2015 @adamcansuckme @musicfashionandscotch

Pictures not mine I just played.

Merry Christmas! Thanks to@l8nitl0vr for the request. I’m hoping that this is what you were looking for. It’s less ‘little fluffy things’ more ‘grand sweeping gestures’. Let me know what you think. Enjoy, my darlings!

Prompt[s]: Reader is a little heartbroken about a failed relationship and when Thor notices he does all kinds of fluffy things to try and make her feel better? >///

“The Man in Red”

Thor wasn’t a studious man. He believed in learning by doing things and consequently making mistakes (of which he had made a few in his time). However, at this time of year, he’d made an exception.

The Avengers’ first Christmas together reminded them that one particular member of their team was not as well-versed in Earth traditions as the others. Even Steve felt like a font of knowledge when describing Halloween. So when December rolled around, everybody chipped in to give him all the information they could about the festive season.

Keep reading

Disney World- 1

Betty Cooper, Jughead Jones, Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge were currently sitting on one of the Disney World buses that were taking them to the kingdom that is the king of all kingdoms, Magic Kingdom. They’re wrists were in the middle and B and V had their phones out, taking a photo of their magic bands. Betty had a pink one, Archie had a blue one, Veronica had a red one and Jughead had a grey one.

The four were in their Junior year of high school, and they had persuaded their parents to allow them to go on a road trip together in Archies green Jeep Wrangler. Betty had persuaded them that going to Disney World would be the best place ever. She told them about the rides, and the princesses, and the girls, and the food. She was finally able to persuade them and started to plan their trip instantly. She had organized magic bands, hotels, reservations and fast passes. She couldn’t wait for them to finally get there.

Back on the bus, Veronica was complaining about having to take public transportation, and Archie was trying to calm her down, saying parking would be impossible at the most famous park. Betty was looking down at her hands, scared that if this trip was a flop it would be her fault. She was playing with the hem of her light pink skater dress. She was swinging her feet underneath the bus chair, making her white high top converse even more scuffed up then before.

“Hey Betty, are you ok?” Jughead asked, reaching for her hand.

She looked up and smiled, tucking a strand of her flowing blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, just thinking. I can’t wait to get to the park.” She pulled out her phone and went to the My Disney Experience app to see what she had planned for the first day. She had Space Mountain as her first fastness at 10:30 (which was an hour and a half from now), the Seven Dwarves Mine Train at 2:00, and Buzz Lightyears Space Ranger Spin at 3:30. For food they didn’t have any reservations for lunch, and had a table for four at Tony’s, which is an Italian restaurant based off of Lady and the Tramp.

Betty was snapped out of her planning state when she heard the voice coming from the bus, saying that they had finally reached Magic Kingdom. She turned her phone off and shoved it in her new Mickey Mouse shoulder purse and stood up, grabbing Jughead’s hand at there same time, practically pulling her three best friends off of the bus.

Once she was on the bus the four teenagers were making their way to the entrance where they had to scan their bands to get into the park. They made their way into the shortest line and each scanned their bands, the Mickey head turning green once they finished. Then Betty, Jughead and Veronica made their way to the table to get their bags checked. Betty and Veronica with their purses and Jughead with his camera bag. Archie told them that he would meet them on the other side.

Once they all got the okay from the security, they instantly spotted Archie’s flaming hair and met him right before the entrance way to the park. Betty took a moment to notice the original plaque that welcomed them to the kingdom. She smiled when she read it.

Here you leave today and enter the world of yesterday, tomorrow and fantasy.

Jughead knew how much she adored that plaque, so the year before for Christmas he ordered one from etsy and from that day she had it hanging in her pink flowery room.

Once she had her moment with Jughead’s hand in hers looking at the circular plaque, she snapped out of her gaze and pulled her boyfriend into the park with the biggest smile on her face. Disney was the one place that she could feel like herself because of how many adults and teens were there who were also acting like children.

Archie and Veronica were already in the park, and when Jughead and Betty entered the park and saw the castle for the first time, tears of happiness started to form in her blue-green eyes. She felt Jughead’s strong arm wrap around her shoulders, and she felt a small kiss on her temple.

“Ready to go Bets?” Jughead said, moving his arm from his shoulder to her hand.

“Yeah Jug. Want to go get some Disney treats?” Betty asked, starting to walk down Main Street. He nodded and smiled, but then she realized that she and Veronica had to go and get some Minnie ears before they could do anything else. “Wait Jug, V and I need to get ears, can we get some snacks after?” She pleaded, hoping that she wasn’t disappointing him.

“Of course. We have more days to get snacks too. Plus we have Park Hopper, so if we need to change our plans or if we want to go on more rides we can.” Jug said as Archie and Veronica met up with them. They started to walk into the Emporium, one of Main Streets biggest store.

“What do you mean change our plans? B and I have planned everything out. Perfectly.” Veronica added, gripping Archie’s hand.

“Yeah, perfectly. We know, you haven’t shut up about it.” Archie said, half under his breath half to Jughead.

Jughead nudged him in the chest, eyes glancing toward the blonde, who luckily wasn’t focused on the two boys. They walked into the store and instantly Betty let go of her boyfriends hand and raced away from her best friends. Veronica then raced towards her, ending up in front of a wall full of Mickey and Minnie ears. Veronica instantly reached toward a Minnie Mouse headband with a bright red rhinestoned bow in between. She placed it on her head and spun around to show Betty.

“So, what do you think?” She said, trying to look up at the ears that were on top of her head.

“I think they match your ‘Minnie Mouse dress’ perfectly. And those rhinestones are totally you.” Betty said while reaching towards a pair of ears herself, but this one with a soft baby pink satin bow in the middle. She placed the headband on her head and looked into the mirror, smiling when she noticed that her ears matched her dress and her perfectly pink lipstick.

She wore them around the store while looking at other clothes and items that were all covered in Disney and Pixar characters and things that make Disney, well Disney! Betty found herself walking towards a stand full of Phone cases, running her fingers over the cold plastic of a teal case that was covered with the seagulls from Finding Nemo. She smiled, pulling it off of the stage. She ended up quickly finding her friends and payed for her ears and phone case. Jughead noticed that there was a pressed penny machine right near the cash and pulled out some of the change that he brought just for this. He got his Mickey Mouse pressed penny and they were on their way.

“So, where are we going first?” Archie asked, running his free hand through his hair. He had a grey t-shirt on with a faded Mickey Mouse on, with a pair of shorts. Jughead just had on his normal S shirt and a pair of lighter jeans then his normal ones.

“Well we have a fast pass for Space Mountain in about an hour, so we can go on some rides, or go get some snacks,” she said, turning her head to raise her eyebrows at Jug, “Whatever we want to do really.”

“Well I want to go onto Winnie the Pooh. It’s a classic. And maybe it’s a small world, or pirates of the Caribbean. And we can get some food in between.” Archie said, nodding towards Veronica and Betty. “Sound good?”

“Yep! We just don’t want to eat too much. We’re going to Casey’s Corner for lunch during the parade. I can run in and get our food from there if you guys want to watch the parade.” Betty said, smiling at all the other teenagers.

“Ok! And we can get super cute photos in front of the castle and with characters today too!”  Veronica said as they made their way to fantasy land. They hopped in line for Winnie the Pooh, grateful because the wait time was only 30 minutes.

“Ok so by the time we get off of this we could probably go and get some snacks for Jug and then go over to Tomorrow land and see if we can meet some characters or go straight on Space Mountain for our fastness.” Betty said, looking at her Disney app.

“Sounds like a plan!” Archie said, the other two teens nodding along.

“How many?” The cast member said when they reached the front of the long line.


“Ok, go to number seven.”

“Thank you!” Betty said as they walked up to one of the honey pots. Betty and Jughead sat in the front while Archie and Veronica snuggled up in the front. Betty leaned her head against his and smiled as they passed through the colourful rooms of the ride. Once they hopped off the ride they ended up in the gift shop. They rushed through the pink and yellow plushies before Betty decided that she needed every single thing that was in the store.

“Ok so it’s ten now, and that means we have thirty minutes until we can use our fast passes. Why don’t we get some food and start walking towards Tomorrowland?” Jughead said, making Betty smile at the fact that he was remembering her planning.

“Sounds good.” Betty said, grabbing his arm and resting her blonde mane on his shoulder. They made their way to Betty’s favourite food stand on the outskirt of Fantasy Land.

“Hi! How may I help you today?” The cast member said, smiling.

“Yeah, I’ll have a re-fillable popcorn bucket, two churros, a turkey leg and a soda.” Jughead said, “Want anything Bets?”

“No, I’ll just have some of yours. I’m not super hungry.” Betty said, quickly scanning her magic band and typing in her pin number. They waited on the left side of the cart waiting for their food as Archie and Veronica ordered and payed for their snacks.

Once they were all snacked up with over-priced snacks and drinks, they started to walk to Tomorrow land, crossing over in front of Cinderella’s castle to the silver and blue area.

Betty was snacking on her boyfriends food, eating popcorn and pieces of churro, biting into his turkey leg and taking small sips of his soda. By the time they made it to Space Mountain, Betty and Jughead had eaten all of their snacks, while Archie and Veronica had barely made a dent in their small popcorn.

They all sat down on one of the chairs outside of space mountain, letting Archie and Veronica eat more, and waiting out the five minutes that they still had before their fast passes were available.

Finally, after like fifteen minutes, Archie and Veronica had finally finished their popcorn. It had been ten minutes after their fast pass was ready. Betty had gone in and joined many other small kids and parents in the dance party with the incredibles. She was jumping around to pop songs, and Jughead was staring at her, possibly taking some sly videos for the future. Just in case he needed them at some point.

After about ten minutes of dancing, Betty noticed that all her friends were waving her over. She gave the kids that she was dancing with small hugs each before waving towards the incredibles and the parents that she was dancing with.

She rushed over towards the table that she was sitting at before, smiling at her friends. They were all standing up, magic bands wrapped tightly around their wrists.

“Let’s go!” Jughead said, grabbing Betty’s hand and pulling her towards the entrance. They all scanned their wrists, making the Mickey head on the circle light up green. First Jughead went in, then Betty, then Archie, and slowly Veronica joined them.

Jughead ran up through the aisle, wanting to get to the front as fast as possible. Betty was racing after her and Archie and Veronica were taking their time behind. They passed about 200 people who were waiting in the normal line, smiling and waving as they passed.

Once Betty finally caught up with Jug, she was panting slightly from running in the small aisle.

“What’s up with you?” Betty said, smiling up at her boyfriend.

“I just really love roller coasters.” Jughead said, shrugging.

“Really? I never knew! I love roller coasters too!” Betty said, practically jumping up and down. Betty gave Jughead a huge hug, leaning her cheek on his strong chest.

Betty and Jughead were waiting in their short line, wondering where Archie and Veronica could be. Soon enough, Archie and Veronica came up, Archie’s arm around Veronica’s shoulder. Betty looked closer and realized that V had glazed eyes and it seemed like she was going to start crying.

“Hey V, are you ok?” Betty asked, walking over to her best friend.

“Yeah, I just kind of have a fear of roller coasters…” Veronica said, more tears starting to well in her eyes.

“Well you can probably go back outside if you want, and then someone can take your fast pass after.” Jughead said, hoping that he would be able to go on the ride again.

“That’s not fair, we don’t want Ronnie to stay outside all by herself.” Archie said, “I’ll go out with her and then you guys can use our fast passes.”

Betty looked up at Jughead, smiling. He was smiling back like a little kid.

“Let’s do this.”

bullet journal | organise your life

Imagine being cold and stranded in a new country, about to start a new job, only to realise… You forgot to buy and pack a planner.

And you’re a picky planner person. The lines can’t be too wide, it needs to be aesthetically pleasing, etc. What then?

This was me in 2014. And then I discovered the Bullet Journal. 

It was perfect.

I’ve been using it for almost 2 years now, even though my life has changed a lot. I was working as an intern for a magazine company in 2014 when I made my first BuJo. I adapted the system when I resumed my undergrad studies last August. When I started tutoring part time in April this year, I tweaked it again.

Now I’m graduating, I’m once again shifting things around.

That’s the beauty of the Bullet Journal: You can do whatever you want with it. 

Today’s prompt for the #planwithmechallenge is “My System”, so I’m going to show you how I set up my BuJo for December for me now as a Christmas nut, and fresh graduate who’s just moved home and needs to clean up a lot. 

(I also part-time tutor and am job-hunting but well. I haven’t worked out how to BuJo those yet!)

Keep reading


To be honest, Asa Butterfield is a little younger in that gif than I was going for but I’m not bothered. He has the perfect look for Bucky’s kid, in my not so humble opinion. Thanks to the anon who requested a second part. Enjoy, everyone!

Prompt[s]: …is there any chance that some day you’ll continue with “Father For Always”? I feel like it would be really interesting. Thanks for sharing your writing with us!!

‘Father for Always’ (Part 2)

Part 1

The iron clad bars of the school’s entrance were painted a tacky green colour, and either side stood a proud hedge that ran as far as the eye could see both east and west. A pathway ran parallel to the shrubbery, guiding pedestrians along a road that separated the school grounds from the carpark opposite. The far side of the path also bore railings, against which Bucky leant as he peered into the playground. He put his hands in his hoodie pockets and looked over his shoulder as a quaint red car swerved precariously into a nearby parking space.

A woman hopped out of the driver’s seat and opened the back door to the car. Three children of varying ages spilled out, adjusting bags and coats and lunchboxes at the same time. In succession, they planted kisses on their mum’s cheek before holding hands with one another and making to cross the road.

She followed them at a distance as they surpassed Bucky and walking obediently into the playground. As soon as they were safely behind the gates, the trio separated and ran off to find their friends. Mum stopped and mimicked Bucky’s casual stance, leaning back against the railings. She sighed heavily.

“Triplets. Hell in the hospital, and hell ever since,” she chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck.
“You handle them well,” he replied, trying to be cordial but not entirely sure what to say.
“Sarah and I do our best. She misses them terribly when she goes to work, but she’s also the reason they have food on the table, presents at Christmas. I couldn’t do it without her. We’re a team.”

Bucky watched the trio of toddlers interacting in a group of what must be 5 kids, each laughing and chatting like buzzing bees.
“I thought one child was hard enough,” he sighed, catching sight of a small boy with familiar dark hair in the crowd.
“Which one’s yours?” The mum asked.
“Next to your boy. Shaggy hair.”

Keep reading

Erik woke to something large and heavy at the foot of his bed and he couldn’t for the life of him think what it was. Perhaps a robe carelessly discarded there last night? No, Erik was meticulous, he always put his things away with great care. Having been used to owning no precious items or basic clothing when he was a child, he treated everything now as if it were made out of gold. Sitting up on his elbows, grimacing as the bone cracked from stiffness, Erik stared at the object in great confusion. It appeared to be a large bag of sorts, red in colour with green trim, drawn tight with a drawstring. Pushing his covers back, Erik scooted towards the end of the bed, prodding the bag with hesitation. Some objects inside were rather soft whilst others were hard and box like, so he loosened the drawstring and peered inside. Presents, an abundance of them wrapped in brown paper and tied with beautiful red string! But what were they doing here? Slipping on his robe and slippers, Erik took the bag from his bed and carried it to the living room, hoping to find Christine there. She’d know what to do with it.

Sure enough, there she was, sitting in her seat next to the Christmas tree that he had begrudgingly dragged down and put up for her entertainment. However, the tree seemed fuller somehow and Erik realised that Christine had decorated it with even more trinkets and tinsel! In fact, the more he looked, the more he realised that she had tarted up his dark abode, with bright colours and tinsel dangling off every surface possible. Looking up above him, he noticed that some mistletoe had been hung up and he stared at it baffled, wondering why on earth such a thing was here in his house.

“Been busy, I see?” Erik murmured, breaking Christine from here reverie in the cosy corner. She gazed at him and smiled warmly.

“I felt it needed a woman’s touch.” She declared proudly, getting up from her seat so that she could join his side. When she drew closer, Erik held out the bag to her whilst giving her a perplexed look.

“That’s fine, but… What on earth is this?” It was Christine’s turn to look confused as she gazed from the bag to Erik.

“What do you mean?”

“A sack of presents… for whom exactly? Am I too play a ghostly Saint Nicholas of sorts?” Erik jested but turned serious again when he saw Christine look slightly aghast.

“They’re your presents, Erik. From me. It is Christmas after all!” Erik stared at her in astonishment, then at the bag.

“Surely you jest…”

“Of course not!” She exclaimed, pushing it back. He was dumbfounded, gawping at the size of the thing he held in his hands.

“But… I do not deserve this!”

“What on earth do you mean, you don’t deserve it?

"I… I have never received a gift before and I assumed it was because of who I was and the actions I took all those years ago…” It took all of Christine’s strength to not cry with pity for the poor man before her so instead she took the bag from him and placed it on the floor by their feet.

“You deserve so much more Erik but that was all I could afford!” She chuckled, blushing as Erik gave her a look of adoration. “I do also have one more gift.”

“More?!” Erik could hardly believe it. When Christine told him to close his eyes, he obeyed dutifully though was dubious as to what she was up to. He was not expecting the soft pressure on his lips and could not help his eyes opening with shock to see her on her tiptoes, kissing him on the lips! He didn’t even bother withholding the tears that began to run down his cheek as this wonderous girl kissed his hideous lips! When she broke the kiss and giggled at his expression, he scooped her up into his arms and kissed her again.

“Merry Christmas Erik!” She laughed and he laughed along with her.

“Merry Christmas and thank you for making it the best I’ve ever had.” Erik decided shortly after that Christmas would certainly be his favourite holiday of all time, especially if the mistletoe was involved…