“I can’t quite believe yet that I’m really here again.”

“Me neither… and yet I’m incredibly happy that you are.”


I felt sad yesterday so I decided to draw the nerds to cheer me up :’) I’ve missed them a lot <3

Bed Bugs 2

It followed Lucy her entire life, scratching in her walls and sliding under her bed. A phantom with a warm touch and inviting voice that spoke of adventures. Nalu.

A/N: Here is an update for this! Wow it’s been a while. I’ve had this written down for a while, but I didn’t have the sketches done for this.

Rated T

Part 2/3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Lucy twisted a lock of hair between her hands. She braided it with compulsive fingers as she took a cab back to her old childhood home. Nerves ran through her like a live wire and she couldn’t help but jump with every pothole and bump in the road the car hit. Rolling hills and fancy houses flashed by the windows. A familiar estate she had left behind a long time ago come into view over the driver’s side. Lucy’s head dropped against her seat. In just moments, she would suffer through the dreary reminder of what awaited her.

Lonely hallways and even lonelier memories.

She thought when she moved away from home, her life would have gotten better. But it was clear she could never fully escape the Heartfilia name which haunted her. No matter where she went, Lucy was greeted with stares  or whispers.

The Lady Heartfilia was too rich to be friends with, or have a normal childhood growing up. Private tutors on the estate were the only people to ever keep Lucy company after her mother died. Despite the fact she had escaped the luxurious life of an heiress, there had never been any room for fun.  Only work and steadfast focus on achieving her goals.

It was lonely.

Which was why this whole excursion back home was both odd and uncomfortable. She didn’t know why, but the image of her nightly visitor branded itself into her eyelids. Whenever she closed them, she could see the ghostly image of his face, for a flickering moment before he faded away.

She thought she imagined wild hair that hung in a curtain around his face. Bangs shadowed the strange eyes that gleamed so bright in the darkness. His skin was a bronze, but there had been something strange with it. Not forgetting the curved horns that stabbed at the air.

The man was handsome, but not classically so. That was all Lucy managed to gather before the image faded away like morning dew.

But his voice was something she could remember more than any image of his face.  She had heard it more than once after all. The strength of his voice varied on a day to day basis. Sometimes he would speak loud enough she could mistake him for being in the room with her. And other days he would be nothing more than breezing whisper. It seemed the times he was the louder came when she was feeling most upset from the grind of her life.

‘Why did you forget me Lucy?’

The voice was rough and low. It invited her to remember. At the same time it was tinged with such bitter sadness, Lucy’s heart went out for him. She had to know who this fantasy man was.  Whether he was a phantom or a product of her own vivid imagination; Lucy felt like she owed herself an answer.

Thus the reason for her visit to her childhood home.

When she approached her father, he was buried neck deep in work as usual. Over the years he had become more accommodating to his daughter’s interests, no doubt fearing their relationship would become forever estranged if things didn’t change. They still weren’t on terms Lucy could call ‘good’ – there were too many bitter feelings for them to completely ignore their past.

Still, there was progress.

Enough that Lucy had something to ask him. Something she would feel too silly saying over the phone.

If he was surprised by her sudden appearance back home, he said nothing. Jude Heartfilia was a shrewd man, knowledgeable enough to know his daughter would not come home unless there was something of importance fueling that desire.

So he waited, if a tad impatiently for Lucy to spit it out.

Lucy swallowed, hating the feeling of foolishness that ran up her spine when she stood in front of her father’s imposing desk.

“Did I have any friends with pink hair when I was little?” Lucy blurted, the question sounding silly the moment it left her mouth.

From the way Jude’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, she imagined he shared her sentiment. But a shadow ghosted over his face, making her father look both sad and guilty. Before she could question why such a look came across him, Jude stood up from his large desk and shook his head.

“You didn’t have any friends growing up Lucy,” The man said, looking quite ashamed of this fact.

“We tutored you at home and with a private selection of educators,” He continued, “There was no room for you to go out and play with other children.”

Lucy’s spirits fell as she remembered her bitter and lonely childhood, walled off from others her age. So there was no one? No one to bring a face or name to the strange man that visited her at night?

She guessed that was for the best. Maybe it was best to forget about him instead of chasing after a fantasy.

“I suppose it’s no surprise that you created friends of your own though,” Jude walked over to a distant corner of his office. Attention reinvigorated by his odd comment, Lucy watched him rummage through old dusty boxes. He pushed and pulled several aside, muttering as he checked their contents.

Within them, she noticed he pulled out a heavy looking folder of children’s illustrations.

“Aha, here it is,” Jude straightened and returned to his desk. He looked at the images within with a quiet air of fondness Lucy had never before seen in his eyes. So surprised, Lucy barely noticed the folder being shoved into her hands until she dropped it.

Papers spilled out on the floor, fluttering around her and falling through the air in tumbling sheets.

Together they bent down and began to collect the fallen papers, Lucy collecting all the folded sheets that were stained from a child’s sticky hands. She couldn’t help but hide a smile as she looked at the lovingly labeled folder.

It was her mother’s handwriting, neat and cursive. It figured her mother would have been the one to collect all her drawings.

“Ah, this one here,” Jude snagged a sheet of paper from the floor and passed it over to his daughter’s waiting hands.

It was a drawing of her family. Jude at the top, and in ascending heights like children often drew, she had her mother, herself, and…

A peculiar, pink haired blob.

“Who’s that?” Lucy breathed. Her heart suddenly seized, crawling up to her throat. As foolish as the idea was when she looked at a child’s scribbles, something about the drawing seemed like an anchor.

Like she was on the verge of something important.

She held the paper between trembling hands, blood pounding in her head. Adrenaline followed excitement and she looked at her father with flushed cheeks.

He didn’t share her enthusiasm and just scratched his head.

His name.

She needed to know his name.

“I dunno, he was your imaginary friend,” Jude shrugged, “Nasty or something.”



Something tickled at her brain, telling her that was close, but not right. Not Nasty but…


It was like a bolt of lightening struck her at once. Memories flooded back to her as she remembered him. The small, strange pink haired boy that one day crawled out from under her bed with a bright, cheery smile. He radiated warmth and sunshine, with a pretty grin and an even happier disposition.

Lucy had accepted him with a laugh of her own, taking his excited declaration of ‘Wanna play?’ with as much grace as a four year old could have.

She was so lonely, but then one day Natsu had come. He was a strange boy, claiming to be a dragon from another world, but bearing no resemblance to one.

He was her imaginary friend.

And it was his job to make her happy.

They used to have so much fun together, playing in a strange castle conjured by Lucy’s imagination. Sometimes they even played with Layla even though she could never see Natsu.

Natsu didn’t seem to mind that Layla couldn’t see him, but he appreciated the effort she made to keep up with their games.

For a while they were happy. Natsu was Lucy’s best friend, a dragon and a princess going on adventures together.

Lucy realized those whispered stories she was told at night, were not just fables, but memories of a happier time.

What happened to Natsu?

The man who visited her at night was so tinged with sadness, he looked nothing like the happy boy she remembered playing with into the night. Long after she was supposed to go to sleep to wake up early for her lessons.

Troubled by the sudden emergence of her memories, and what it could mean, Lucy walked away from her questioning father in a daze. She walked through the empty corridors, occasionally passing the sparse staff member that paid her a polite greeting.

As if possessed, Lucy made her way through the well remembered steps to her old room.

It was just as she remembered, with tall white walls, pink striping on curtains and gleaming crown molding. Her throat went dry as she remembered the time Natsu accidentally set those curtains on fire, but of course she had been the one to get in trouble for it.

Lucy had been so mad at Natsu, but eventually forgave him for it when he brought her a doll from the mysterious place he lived. He thought she would like it.

A child’s forgiveness was easily bought, Lucy thought with a wry smile.

More and more memories returned to her. Each one fueled the fear and worries she held deep in her heart. A reminder of who she had forgotten.



Had her childhood really been as lonely as she remembered?

Lucy sank on the small bed she slept on as a young girl. The bed sheets were changed, but her father was sentimental enough to keep everything looking the same. When Lucy was older, she had simply moved away from this wing of the manor. At the time she thought the noises which plagued her at night would simply fall away.

But no matter which room she escaped to, the scratching in the walls would follow.

She suddenly understood why that was.

He was trying to talk to her.

He was trying to get her attention.

More and more memories returned, all of them pouring through her mind as Lucy sat still for hours, letting herself travel back. She remembered the odd boy screaming at her from a tree, claiming it was a mighty beast and she should climb aboard. Or how he would steal her ice cream when she wasn’t looking, but it would melt all over both of them and make a mess.

How could she have forgotten all of that?

Fear suddenly gripped her heart as the room began to darken. Shadows stretched in long, inky stripes through her curtains. Each one signaled the heavy approach of nighttime.

Shuddering in the covers, for the first time since she was a young child, Lucy felt afraid for what would happen when the light completely faded.

But even back then, what did she have to fear from the dark? Natsu was always there watching over her, protecting her from the things that went bump in the night.

He was one of those things.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

The moment the scraping started up, soft and slow this time, Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin. The room was dark now, the last minutes of sunlight draining away in the encroaching darkness.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

She could feel his eyes on her. The quiet, intensity he was looking at her. For a second, Lucy thought she could ignore the scratches like she usually did. It wasn’t as if he would ever even notice right?

She was afraid to face him.

Not out of fear he would hurt her, no – but shame she had even forgotten him. What would he say? Would he hate her?

Natsu hadn’t given up on getting her attention for years.

Not once.

She bit her lip and looked back at the narrow closet doors. Summoning her bravery, she walked over and grabbed a hold of the doorknob. She tugged it open, her heart in her chest as her words climbed up her throat.



Ramsay & Domeric | Line of Fire (GOT)

“Ramsay killed him. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison. In the Vale, Domeric had enjoyed the company of Redfort’s sons. He wanted a brother by his side, so he rode up the Weeping Water to seek my bastard out. I forbade it, but Domeric was a man grown and thought that he knew better than his father. Now his bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?” - Roose Bolton to Theon Greyjoy ( a dance with dragons)

I have to say though I am not entirely convinced Ramsay was the one that killed Domeric. he had every reason to do so but it just seems weird to me that he’d use poison. I think that when ramsay kills someone, it’s gonna be up close and personal. but who knows ? maybe he was being smart by using poison, maybe he wasn’t as careless back then.
either way I wanted to tell the story of Ramsay and Domeric Bolton and this is the only one we have :)

I used Aneurin Barnard (footage from the white queen) as Domeric.

I found the quote in the beginning on this post : http://loveyourcrookedneighbour.tumblr.com/post/74042745947/i-watched-them-all-die-father-i-held-them-just

i’m thinking of you all the while (II.) || a bonkai oneshot

A/N: 6x22 rewrite.

Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, part II of the season finale AU is finally here! I went through a pretty dry spell with my writing these past months, but I finally got to cracking again and I’m glad I managed to finish the draft I started back in June (no joke).

So, the first part, as you recall, was all about Bonnie reluctantly killing Kai and all the good angst that comes with that. This time around, it’s more sexy and devious and morally ambiguous. Because they both get to live. Or do they? For part (I) go here

“Of course, you don’t have to help her. You could just walk away. She dies of collapsed lung, no blood on your hands, and you and Elena get to live the life you always dreamed of.”

Kai had been taught that words were like honey. Dip your tongue in that sweet elixir, and you could coax the bear out of his lair, but you could also spite the queen bee. The trick was to mix honey with a little venom, every time.

So really, Malachai Parker just wanted to see Damon and Elena ride into the sunset together. Now, if their tires suddenly got stuck against the corpse of their witch friend, that was only a minor hiccup on the road to happiness, right?

Besides, who has ever heard of happiness without sacrifice? The most Damon Salvatore would have to do was take three steps back, turn and exit the church. That was hardly taxing.

“Either way,” he added, not unkindly, “you better act quick. She hasn’t got much time.”

Keep reading

part 5 - everything that happens is from now on

“This is great, Jennah,” Cook is saying, smiling like I’ve never seen her as she flips through my recent pages.  “This is exactly what we’re looking for.”  

She smiles at me and I know that I should feel elated: in a rush of mad artist energy, I finished the book.  I managed to find the ending I’ve been struggling with for so long, the kind of ending that feels final but still open, like there’s still more story to tell, but you feel okay that you’ve reached the last page because paper Jennah is okay.  Paper Jennah is okay, and real Jennah is okay too, but she knows there’s something missing.

read the final part of a history in rust on tumblr | read on 1dff | story page | banner by emjay