bearded blokes


“So apart from the salmon, the whisky and the beef, I ask you, what have the Scottish ever done for us?”


“Well, there’s the telephone.”


“And the television.”

“Right! But except for the salmon, the whisky, the beef, the telephone and the television you tell me, what have those Scottish bastards ever done for us?”

“Well, I’m wearing a waterproof jacket. And our Denise is taking penicillin to clear up that rash she had.”


“And there’s the oil and gas, that’s all quite handy isn’t it?”

“Okay, okay! But except for the salmon, the whisky, the beef, the telephone, the television, waterproof fabric, penicillin, oil and gas you name ONE THING the Scots have ever, ever done for us… can’t, can you?”

*long pause*




Get To Know the Fangirl | Ten Female Characters [1/10]
     ↳ Geraldine Granger

You were expecting a bloke? Beard, bible, bad breath? And instead you got a babe with a bob cut and a magnificent bosom.

The Yule Ball

For @applepie3399 ‘s birthday: a Drarry drabble. Go wish her a happy birthday! <3 <3 <3


No, this couldn’t be right. None of this was right. Draco Malfoy knew in the deepest depths of his heart that what he was thinking couldn’t be farther from being right. But, for Merlin’s sake, he could care less. All he could think about was Harry, and how much he wanted to slam that stupid, oblivious idiot against a wall and- “Draco?”

The boy reddened. Draco then relaxed a bit from his place on the couch, and blinked a few times to clear the white spots dancing in his vision from staring at the light fixture. Pansy Parkinson pranced into the common room where Draco was contemplating his sexuality for not the first time. Putting on the most nonchalant, blank face as he could muster, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Does this look good?” She asked, giving a little twirl. Pansy was wearing extremely frilly, pale pink dress robes, so frilly, it was a miracle Draco saw her face at all.

“Yes, Pansy,” muttered Draco, listlessly. He’d only agreed to go to the Yule Ball with Pansy so he wouldn’t look like a fool standing off by himself. She’d been throwing herself at him enough, he started to pity the girl. Draco might’ve liked the attention, if he fancied girls. But, alas, Malfoy could deny it no longer: he, Draco Lucius Malfoy, fancied blokes.

“Oh, c'mon, Draco~? Anything else you can say about it?” A contemplative expression passed over Pansy’s face. But Draco barely blinked, and she was sitting on his lap, smirking seductively. Draco’s eyes widened, this was not for him, not at all. “How about this?”

Before he could push her off of his lap, Pansy grabbed his face and wrenched it down to meet hers. The kiss felt wrong. So very wrong. He felt nothing at all. It was like kissing a poster, lifeless and cold and dead. It was yet more confirmation that Draco was in fact, very gay.

Draco slammed his hands on her shoulders, pushing the heart-eyed girl off onto the floor.

Pansy took it the wrong way. “Oh, couldn’t have waited for privacy, could you?” She laughed, and kneeled, reaching over Draco’s legs. Her hand grabbed hold of the zipper and yanked, breaking the zip. Needless to say, Draco wasn’t expecting it, and was extremely frightened to say the least.

Pansy almost had all of Draco’s trousers off (and her hand already down them), before he stuttered out, “P-Pansy! I’m g-gay! I-I’m quite in-into blokes!”

“Merlin’s beard, you finally admitted it,” was all she said before backing off and heading up to the girls’ dormitory.

Shakily pulling his trousers back on, and jerking the zipper up, Draco practically ran over to the door in which Pansy exitted. Shoving open the door, regardless of the rules, his eyes swiveled around from each disinterested girl, landing at last on his friend who was looking at shoes.

“Pansy Rose Parkinson, what in hell, just happened?” Draco growled.

Pansy just sighed, and chuckled humorlessly. “All of Slytherin knows that you’re gay, Draco. What just happened was my plan to get you to admit it.” The girls around just laughed.

“Now, how are we going to get you with Potter?”

Malfoy flushed. “May I say once more, what in hell?!”

Draco’s eyes were fiery, and he felt he could bore holes into Pansy’s head.

“Let me put this in simpler terms, honey. You and Harry, go to the ball together.” Pansy used two fingers to mimic walking and dancing. “Oh don’t give me that look, I know you fancy him. It’s pretty obvious, if you ask me.”

Draco didn’t say anything, just reddened, so Pansy took it as consenting.

“Lovely! Let’s get working on your romancing of The Boy Who Lived!”


Harry sighed, and gathered up all of his parchment and quills. Potions wasn’t going too well for him (when was it not?), and Snape had called him to stay after class.

He expected the usual lecture about how aggravating his father was, and how Harry needed to stop showing off.

But what he hadn’t expected was Malfoy leaning against the side of the doorway, waiting for him. It took everything in him not to gasp in a startled breath.

Malfoy turned his head towards him nonchalantly and smirked, “Are you dead? Cause you look like an angel to me.”

Harry reddened. “Sod off, Malfoy.”

They were enemies, rivals, and no, Harry didn’t like Draco, not even a little bit. It just didn’t make any sense. Like. Draco. They didn’t go together, but Harry was having a harder time at telling himself that recently.

“Oh, c'mon now, don’t be like that. Tell me, I’m dying to know, which is easier? Getting into those pants, or getting out of them?” The blonde smirked.

“I’m wearing robes.” The other deadpanned, trying desperately to hide the blush that deepened by the moment.

Draco just scowled, and continued. “I’m not sure what Quidditch position you play, but I bet you’re a keeper.”

Harry was starting to get annoyed. “Malfoy, I’m a chaser. You’re another chaser, but for Slytherin. How could you forget that?”

Draco blushed as his scowl deepened. Instead of saying something else, he stalked up to Harry. Before either could do or say anything, Malfoy grabbed Harry’s tie and dragged him to the opposite side of the hallway. Roughly shoving the confused brunette against the wall, Draco leaned in, smirking at the obvious effect he had on Harry.

“You look great and all, but what would really look good on you is me.”

Harry’s breathing hitched, and he couldn’t help getting lost in the blue ocean that was his rival’s eyes. Everywhere Draco had touched was buzzing, and Harry’s limbs ached with the more and more familiar urge to kiss the blonde.

But Draco got to it first, leaning in ever closer, sealing the space between them with his lips. Harry’s head was spinning, but the one constant was Draco. How his lips were soft and chapped, and tasted like vanilla and mint toothpaste. It was slow and sweet, but underlying with such need and desperation, Harry had to lean back against the wall to keep his legs from buckling.

With great reluctance, the two boys pulled away, and a whimper sounded from Harry against his will. Draco smirked once more.

“I’ll pick you up for the ball outside Gryffindor common room. Seven sound good?” But without waiting for an answer, Draco backed away and headed down the hall. 

Rolling his eyes, Harry called down to Malfoy.

“As long as we can get matching robes.”