climbing statues

I laugh at how the Harry Potter movies always had to one-up the books like

Book 1: Harry keeps Quirrell from the Stone, passes out and Quirrell dies
Warner Bros: aye let’s have Harry fucking murder Quirrell and then Voldemort can fly straight through him lmao
Book 2: Harry fights the Basilisk
Warner Bros: CLIMB. THE. STATUE!
Book 3: Harry blows up Aunt Marge
Warner Bros: *sends her outside like a lost balloon* lol bye bye
Book 4: Harry cleverly tricks the dragon and gets to the golden egg
Warner Bros: DRAGON CHASE! FLY POTTER! FLY FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE! Oh, and kill the dragon..
Book 5: Fred and George summon their brooms and fly out of the school
Warner Bros: FIREWORKSSS!!!!!!
Book 6: Quiet Christmas at the Burrow discussing Draco, the Prince and Fenrir
Book 7: Voldemort duels Harry in the Great Hall, instantly defeated because the Elder Wand is Harry’s
Warner Bros: Hold my Butterbeer

Reasons to love Ciel!

It’s time to gather some reasons why Ciel is lovable!
If I miss something,please add,since I’m certain I will miss some.

|WARNING!It’s quite a long post.|

  • (Note that the reasons listed here are mine only!If you don’t feel the same about some,don’t make nasty comments.)

He is a little cute bookworm.

He is persevering and hard working.

He is a good actor (even when he’s not acting for the investigations,he’s still acting for years as his brother,lmao).

He is always protective,even when he can’t.

…Or when he risks his life.

He is brave.

He is easily embarrassed by some situations since he used to be shy.

He makes sacrifices for people dear to him.

Even though he doesn’t show it directly,he loves people dearly.

He is a successful businessman and a valuable watchdog.

He thinks about others when it comes to danger.

He is kind.

Even to Sebastian.

He managed to change drastically and turn his life around.

He is so sick and yet he accomplishes so much.

…And despite all he went through.

He is patient. 

(Some may argue about it,but think like this: if he wouldn’t be patient,he would’ve just got rid of Soma and many others when he had the opportunity,but he didn’t)

He is strong.

He is sly.

He is quite talented.

And has a pretty good aim.

He looks good.
Both as male and female.

He is a little “devil”.

He went through nights full of nightmares and a life full of low self esteem,but he never gave up.

He accepts many things from his dear ones…Many.

…And even if he loses his composure,he tries to make up for it.

He loves sweets.So much as to climb Sebastian’s chocolate statue and steal the head lmao.

He studied in fear of being hit by Sebastian(for making mistakes).

…And learnt to punish Sebastian as well.

He is absolutely innocent,even if now he tries to show it as little as possible.

…And adorable.

Need I say more?

He is a winner,no matter what.

And he surely loves to be one.

He is observant.

He is intelligent.

He gets his servants what they need and want.

But most importantly…He is the Ciel we all watched struggle,the Ciel we all got fond of,the one who grew in our hearts and whatever happens,we can’t ever forget that.

“There are three separate complaints that you held up traffic to pet a cat,” said Dick, flashing his phone screen in Damian’s direction. Damian didn’t look up from his book, which was about what Tim expected. They’d gotten this far without a reaction.

“I wanted to pet the cat,” Damian said, calmly turning a page.

“You have a cat,” Tim reminded him.

“I don’t have that cat. It was orange.”

“You’re right, it all makes sense now.” 

Damian rolled his eyes as expressively as he could without taking his face out of his novel. It was good enough for Tim to get the picture, so he turned back to Dick, who was still scrolling through Twitter. 

“I heard Nightwing say that Robin’s grounded again,” Dick read, “but the kid is definitely perched on my balcony right now, so #imtellingbatman.” He shot Damian a look. “I’m shocked.” 

“When was that?”

“April seventeenth.”

Damian nodded, half-smirking. “He doesn’t read them, then. He never noticed I was gone.”

“I don’t know,” said Tim. “That could be what he wants us to think. You sneak out, what, twice a week? Enforcing a curfew once isn’t worth burning a source.”

“True,” said Damian, considering it.

“Unless he wanted to use it as a deterrent system,” Dick put in. “Not that possible consequences have ever actually deterred us. For example…” He frowned down at his phone. “Never mind, this one isn’t about you.”

Dick sighed, turning to Jason instead. “It says you blew up a dumpster?”



“Business,” Jason shrugged. “Mind your own.”

Keep reading

Having grown up in DC, statues of various dead guys on horses are basically background radiation, or they were before I became Hamilton trash and started noticing them again. Now it’s like every time I turn around there’s a Founding Father looking at me like I personally disappointed him, and it’s getting a little unnerving.

Although: as a result, I sort of want to write a magical realism thing where that can really happen. Where if you do something they would have disagreed with strongly enough, the statues climb down off their columns and lumber down Mass Ave to the Russell Building or the Capitol, where they stand on the sidewalk, arms crossed, glaring into the window of whoever’s just introduced legislation that offended them. They don’t speak, or attack anyone, or damage anything– well, they do tend to bump their heads on low-handing streetlights, sometimes, but that doesn’t count. Mostly they just stand there, mournful, accusing, for everyone to see.

Sometimes lawmakers can talk them around, convince them they’re not actually betraying the political ideals of their predecessors. Politicians who are good at this tend to have much, much longer careers than the ones who aren’t. Politicians who piss off the wrong statues seldom get reelected.

George Washington rarely budges, and when he does it’s front-page news, nationwide. Madison’s always been easier to talk around than most. Hamilton spend more time off his plinth than on it, but he cools off fast. Jefferson holds grudges, to the point that hardly anyone worries too much about making him mad. 

It’s not just politicians, either, and they don’t always come to life in anger. Joan of Arc’s bronze horse will shiver to life in Malcolm X Park, sometimes, and carry her off to join protest marches, when she thinks their cause is just. Gandhi walked with Iraq War protestors. The Spirit of American Womanhood, outside Constitution Hall, danced on the day that Roe v. Wade was decided, and when Obergefell vs. Hodge went through, Eleanor Roosevelt taught a clumsy Lindy to Baron von Steuben. 

Lincoln has only risen from his seat once since he was put there in 1922, and that was to nod in solemn approval at LBJ from the White House lawn.

Some cities rarely put up statues, and many have taken theirs down. Paris has a great many artists and writers memorialized, and curiously few politicians. In London, during the Blitz, Nelson shinned down his column to help dig people out of collapsed buildings, until he was broken to pieces himself; he stands atop the column again today, reassembled, but has never moved since. In the last months of the Soviet Union, a desperate Communist Party had the statues of Moscow chained in place. These days, Monument Avenue in Richmond is punctuated with  a long series of empty plinths and bare columns. 

But DC keeps theirs, and keeps building more.

mike-a-liscious  asked:

Ah well! Uhm maybe n*18 of that writing a drabble post ("this is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had, of course I'm in") and then like college AU? (you don't have to ofc I'm just weak for college AU luro) Honestly anything w college AU luro would be a blessing I was just looking at that posts Bc I'm bad w prompts lmao 😂 just do Whatevr you want I guess? I'm sure it'll be amazing either way 🙏🙏

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooh-kay! This took a long time, and I’m really sorry bc finals, work and I was just generally exhausted bc im an anxious lil shit something but but!!! Here it is! 

I really hope you like it! It has no plot whatsoever but I think the interactions are pretty good and cute! First time writing Kuro so like, I tried??? 

Okay, I’m done rambling. OH OH, uh, not really beta’d at all. I apologize for any mistakes, hope u don’t cringe like agressively. 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me. 

18. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had, of course I’m in” // Luro

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had, of course I’m in.”

Lance flips his boyfriend off before he drops to his knees and takes a small bobby pin from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Keep talking, Tadashi, and this is the last time I do something nice for you.” Lance threatens, his hands still focused on pick locking the door.

“Well, that doesn’t sound good for future horny me.”  The young adult mumbles before frowning, “And stop calling me Tadashi.”

“It’s your birth name, Kuro.” Lance replies, nickname rolling easily on his tongue, and waves him off with a shrug, “But fine, your wish is my command, babe.”

Kuro pouts at him and kicks him on the butt from behind, smirking when Lance yelps in surprise.

“How long have you been planning this, babe?”

Lance hums. “A month before you graduated last semester.”

Kuro’s eyes snap open in surprise. “That long? Babe, you didn’t have to do this, I told you back then that I was okay not getting a photo.”

His boyfriend scoffs. “Hell no. You graduated with honors, love, despite the fact that no one believed you could do it. You deserved to have your picture with the Black Lion, your career mascot! It’s a College Tradition!”

Kuro chuckles softly at the passion in the brunet’s voice. “The Director didn’t like me, we all knew that. I’m just glad I was able to prove them all wrong.”

Lance looks behind him over his shoulder to met his eyes and then he smiles softly. “Yes…you did prove them wrong and I couldn’t be prouder.”

Kuro flushes at the praise and looks away, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh, hush.”

“But still, babe! You didn’t get to have a picture flying the Black Lion! So, that’s why we are here for!” Lance grins proudly and Kuro snorts.

“To break into the Castle of Lions just for me to climb over a rock statue?”

“Heck yeah, we are.” Lance smirks and Kuro returns the smirk.

Director Zarkon won’t be happy with the fact someone climbed over his favorite kitty.”

“Director Zarkon can kiss my ass.”

“Ew, babe, no.” Kuro laughs, “Just hurry up, before someone catches us.” He urges, leaning against the wall nonchalantly besides his boyfriend.

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Those who are Broken | Chapter Fifteen

Everyone has a soulmate. Except the Broken.

Word count: 2372

↬ I honestly run out of things to say on here

Chapter list

Originally posted by gothdollysedits

You stared up at Ben in complete shock.

Who the fuck threw a bunch of fucking shit on him? After all the time and hard work you spent on keeping this fucker clean for the past week, some little shits decide to throw a bunch of trash all over him. Now you have to clean him all over again.

Did the headmaster do this?

Would she stoop that low just so you can keep cleaning him until you finished your punishment? Would he look like shit every time you finish cleaning him just because you don’t follow her rules?

“I thought you would finish cleaning him by now,” a familiar voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you met eyes with Jimin, his hands in his pant pockets. “He was clean. Some bastard trashed him last night,” you told him, turning back to the shit statue that stood in front of you in all its glory. “After all the fucking hard work I put into making him look brand new,” you mumbled, tossing the bucket full of cleaning supplies to the ground in frustration.

“Most likely the headmaster did this,” Jimin said, bending down to pick up the bucket you tossed. “At least you have someone to help you clean it—better than doing it alone.”

You sighed. “You’re right,” you told him, grabbing the supplies from inside the bucket, but it wasn’t. Even if you have someone to help you clean, you had spent days cleaning the statue, and if the headmaster trashed the statue, the two of you are going to have a serious talk.“We’ll need water.” You gestured towards the water faucet a bit off to the side next to a rose bush. “Fill the bucket up, and we’ll start cleaning him up. Again,” you whispered the last word, glaring at the statue as if it’s his fault he got dirty. You watched as Jimin made his way towards water faucet, placing the empty bucket under it, and twisted the knob. Water shot out from the faucet, filling the bucket within seconds.

Turning the knob shut, he made his way back towards you. You couldn’t help yourself from staring down at his arm that carried the bucket, his muscles flexed, a vein or two going up. Even through his short sleeved, black shirt, you could see how built he was. You wondered what it would feel like to have him wrap his arms around you, holding you tight against him. His face buried in the crook of your neck, warm breath hitting your skin before his lips brushed along sending a chill throughout your body.

“Ready?” Jimin asked as he placed the bucket down next to you, bringing you out of your fantasy.

You felt your face heat up as you looked away. “Y-yeah,” you stuttered, handing him a scrub before you poured a small amount of soap into the bucket full of water. You dunked your scrub into the bucket, mixing the water and soap together until bubbles began to form. “Shall we start?” you asked, pulling out the scrub and climbed up the ladder

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Things Cassandra Cain Has Definitely Done at Some Point

- broke a man’s wrist in three places when he grabbed her butt

- received some Barbies from Dick as a gift and played with them with Steph all day

- learned perfect origami in seven minutes

- climbed onto an elephant statue at a museum for a selfie

- mistook water for vodka and woke up confused in Thailand

- texted only in emojis when she got her first cell phone

- didn’t leave her room for days when she discovered Pokemon

- did the exact opposite for weeks when she found out there was Pokemon Go

- dragged poor Tim into Victoria’s Secret during a shopping trip

- became Alfred The Cat’s favorite person besides Damian

- spent $4,000 of Bruce’s money on superhero bobble heads

- became close with Selina since they were the only girls in the house

- replaced all of Jason’s bullets with mini marshmallows

- snuck up on Damian and made him wet his pants

- convinced Bruce to buy her a pony

- blew up the kitchen when she tried cooking

- managed to confuse even the Joker by taking him down in seconds before he could even say a word

- stole her brother’s clothes until they found her closet full of their stuff

- won Miss Gotham City four years in a row

- accidentally knocked over an entire room’s worth of dominoes

- punched Tim in the face when he beat her at Monopoly

- painted Dick’s nails while he was sleeping

- took Babs, Steph, and Harper on a girl’s night to McDonald’s where they partied the entire evening

- created a collection of Batarangs Bruce lost on patrol

Tim Drake one here

Jason Todd one here

Damian Wayne one here

Dick Grayson one here 

requests from your friendly neighborhood dm for more harmonious gameplay:

  • please don’t call your own rolls (i.e., ‘i want to climb this statue, and my dex roll is x’), for two reasons. 1, if you attempt a simple course of action, your dm may not require a roll for it (like, a beefy paladin is gonna be able to move a simple heavy thing), but if you call your own roll and fail, you have to live by that failed roll. 2, i personally am a small and petty person so don’t take what little authority i have managed to convince you i have - let me determine what the roll will be
  • even if you’re not doing a character voice/accent (we’re not all professional voice actors!!!) it’s very helpful if you have a different cadence or tone or even volume when you’re being your character. this helps the whole table to distinguish between what your character says during a tense standoff with the lord of the hunt, and what is your own personal goof (i love goofy dnd players but it’s exhausting to repeatedly ask ‘do you actually say that’ and cue players’ swift backpedaling lmao)
  • please be reasonably respectful of npcs. those are your dm’s pcs just like you have yours, and i’m sure you understand it would be pretty disheartening if a fellow pc were rude or combative or dismissive with your character for no real reason other than a mean-spirited goof 
  • be cool with the fact that nat 20s can actually fail. the rules as written (or, RAW, in the Nerd Parlance) only call for 20 to auto-succeed and 1 to auto-fail in combat, not skill checks/saving throws. crits outside of combat is a (very) widely accepted houserule! so if you say ‘i jump into the fucking sun’ and roll a 20, please don’t be a munchkin when your dm tells you that impossible things sometimes remain impossible regardless of your roll

this isn’t at all vague-ing at my players, just feedback from this side of the table based on years of dming across a lot of groups, as well as the dnd media i consume (which is frankly……….. a worrying amount). this is just to help everybody at the table have a dang ol’ hootenanny and also streamline play somewhat to make more time for adopting rocs and swearing lifedebts to sheep

anonymous asked:

I loved the yakov/lilia piece but it got me thinking. What about one where all the coaches sit and remember their skating days + reflect on their skaters?


“I miss when Chris was sweet and innocent.”

Yakov let out a chuckle while looking at Josef’s defeated look.

“How do you think I feel? Victor was never an angel, but at least he wasn’t this wild,” Yakov said with a sigh as he picked up his beer and took a sip.

“At least your skaters didn’t come home with a tramp stamp,” Alain mumbled into his beer.

“The difference between you and us, Alain, is that your skater is also your son. You’d have to put up with him anyway. We volunteer for this crap,” Celestino laughed while slapping Alain back.

“Don’t remind me, I can deal with the maple lead tattoo, but the tramp stamp?” Alain groaned.

“I lost half of my own hair when Victor turned up to practice after cutting his long hair,” Yakov mumbled while shaking his head.

“You two are lucky, at least you didn’t have an angel come up to you and ask if he can wear a skin type costume that highlights his butt. I swear I fainted in shock when Chris asked me that,” Josef groaned.

“At least you guys don’t have to monitor a social media account twenty-four, seven. I swear Phichit is going to kill me one day, he just runs off for the perfect media shot without factoring in the danger. He climbed a statue in Russia to get a good shot of some building or something,” Celestino groaned while finishing off his drink.

“I’ve had to replace seven phones because Yuri has smashed them to pieces. Seven! The boy has only been in my care for three years,” he grumbled before lifting up his beer and taking a deep drink.

“When Japanese Yuuri was in my care, I swear I spent every competition convincing him he did fine. Every competition,” Celestino sighed with a shake of his head.

“Jean joined a rock band and then comes to me and declares he is going to skate to his bands song,” Alain said while shaking his head.

“I do not understand what you are complaining about,” the four male coaches turned to the only woman at the table. Lilia sat there, a glass of wine held in her hand.

“You all have wonderful skaters that try their best. Shouldn’t you be thankful for that?” Lilia questioned while glancing between the four males.

“But we are, Lilia,” Josef chuckled.

“I am very thankful that Jean is so dedicated, but sometimes I just need to rant,” Alain said with a small smile.

“Phichit and Yuuri are both lovely boys. It saddens me that Yuuri got another coach, but it is clear that Yuuri is better in Victor’s hands than my own,” Celestino said with a soft smile.

“Venting, Lilia, we care for each of our skaters, but sometimes we just need to vent,” he explained with a wave of his hand.

“I do not understand, but please do not stop on my account,” Lilia said with a wave of her hand.

“Do you not ever have a moment where you want to punish your Yuri for his mouth?” Josef questioned, causing Lilia to glance towards the bald man and nod her head slowly.

“That is what we are doing, talking about those times. The Grand Prix is over, it is break time before we all hurry back for National Championships,” Josef explained with a gentle smile.

“I see,” Lilia said with a nod.

“Oh god, nationals,” Alain groaned while rubbing his forehead, “Jeans be at me about wanting to try and break a world record at Nationals.”

“Tell your boy to keep dreaming, if anyone is breaking any records it is Victor,” Yakov said with smirk, earning a snort from Lilia.

“Don’t rule Yuri out just yet, Yakov,” Lilia warned while taking a sip of her wine.

“Hey now, Phichit has been breaking records all season, they just aren’t fancy ones like your Russian skaters,” Celestino pointed out with a smirk.

“May god have mercy on all of us,” Josef said while raising his beer. Yakov chuckle as he rose his own glass and gently tapped it against Josef’s along with Celestino and Alain.

“Amen to that,” Alain mumbled as they all took a sip of their beers.

“You all need more than god,” Lilia mumbled, resulting in the table bursting into laughter at how true the former ballerina’s words were.


Context: I’m playing a chaotic good drow monk (yes i know, chaotic isn’t exactly the ideal alignment for monks, but i honestly don’t care) in a 5e game with my family, run by a family friend. We have a sorcerer gnome, a teifling druid, a half-ork fighter, a dwarf bar, and a human cleric. I use a quarterstaff as my main weapon.

Dm: as the elf mage falls, he drops his see-through staff and his body turns to ash

The rest of the party: *discussing how weird it was how his body disintegrated*


Me: *I go over and inspect the staff, visibly excited*

Dm: if you want to know how it works, you’ll have to attune to it, which requires a short rest

Me: *to the rest of the party* guys, we’re taking a short rest right now.

After a short rest:

Dm: after your short rest, you now know that the staff is mainly arcane based, and allows the uses to cast spells through it.

Me: *i sigh and i reluctantly hand the staff over to the sorcerer*

After we defeated another main enemy, a drow bard, he also had a staff.

Dm: you climb ontop of the statue where the drow is, and you hit him with your staff, and then upper cut his jaw, sending him falling off of the statue. When yiu look down, you see that he broke his neck when he fell, killing him.

The res of the party: *celebrating that we killed the enemy*


Me: *i get off of the giant statue and i take the staff, attuning to it after we take a short rest to heal up*

Dm: after you attuned to it, you know that this is very ancient, probably hundreds of years old. It is a staff of bards, giving them two extra bardic inspiration dice, and boosting their charisma by 2.

Me: *sighs and hands it over to our bard without another word*

We find a treasure room and fight a bunch of mimics in there. There is a staff in a display against the wall.

Me: if this goddanm staff is another friggin’ bard of sorcerer staff im gonna be pissed.

Me: since we’re taking a short rest, I’ll attune to the staff.

After a short rest

Me to the dm: please bs kind to me, i have suffered to many losses so far.

Dm: *laughs* well, you’ll be happy to here that this staff is something you’ll like. It is a staff of the storm. It gives you an extra 10 feet of movement, and it deals an extra 2d6 lightning damage.

Me: *i start crying tears of joy, dropping to my knees and hugging the staff*

Fighter: are you alright?

Me, still crying: this is the happiest day of my life.

anonymous asked:

is there any significance to sansa witnessing ned's death while arya is shielded from it by the night's watch brother?

As this post says: Sansa is the sister whose eyes were closed to the reality of the Lannisters, so she had to see. Whereas Arya is the sister whose eyes have always been open, so there was nothing she could get from witnessing her father’s execution, except pointless excruciating pain and probably a Cassandra complex.

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anonymous asked:

I’ve been reading this blog for the past three hours or so and just finished the post regarding financial vampires. This reminded me of a dilemma I’ve been struggling with. I’m young and I want to have fun. I don’t want to be 35 and realize that I wasted my 20s worrying about saving money and being responsible. But on the other hand.... I really want to be financially well off. Help me convince myself that I won’t regret not going out every Saturday night.

When we were penniless college students sharing a tiny apartment with a shower so small you’d bump your elbows just lifting your arms to wash your hair, we used to wander the streets at night with our friends.

I remember the night we got dressed up like models and headed down to the wharf to do a fake photo shoot with our friend’s fancy camera from his summer photography class.

I remember the night we dared each other to climb the statue of Paul Revere on his horse. It took three of us to boost our friend Charlie up there and he nearly broke his ankle jumping off because we couldn’t figure out how to get him down again.

I remember the night we played strip poker on the roof of our apartment building because it was hot as balls inside.

I remember playing Mario Kart until the sun rose.

I remember sitting in our tiny kitchen making up songs on my guitar and laughing so loud the neighbors pounded on the walls.

I remember bringing book proposals home from my internship at a literary agency and doing dramatic readings over cheap wine and yesterday’s bread from the bakery across the street.

These memories are priceless to me. And they cost us nothing to create.

I don’t have a single memory like this of going to a bar and dropping a shit ton of money on a Saturday night. We must have done it… but it clearly isn’t as important to me as the time we threw a party to celebrate the anniversary of our friend losing his finger and served finger food and made finger themed decorations and played with Chinese finger traps.

The point is that the memories I cherish have fuck all to do with spending a lot of money to have fun with my friends. I value the times we made our own fun, got creative, and bonded over trying to save our meager incomes. 

Sure, go out to da clerb once in a while. Take a trip once or twice. But don’t fool yourself: this is not what will make you happy. And it certainly won’t make you financially secure. 

I regret nothing… except that we never actually managed to free the harbor seals from the aquarium. And neither should you.

Compilation post of all the times our D&D party’s monk (@philanthropy-lite‘s character Farrah) has fucked up:

  • Rolled to hold hands with @auors‘ rogue character, rolled bad, hands were too sweaty. 
  • Rolled acrobatics/dex (best ability) to climb up a small statue, rolled natural 1, stubbed toe and fell, took damage. 
  • Rolled inspection check while running to search for something, rolled natural 1, tripped and fell into a bookcase (and just barely managed not to have it fall on her), took damage when a book fell and hit her in the face.
  • Was pushed into a dark room and stumbled just past a trap, but in an attempt to look cool, rolled acrobatics to do a Sick Backflip, rolled well, landed the jump, thus activating the trap.
  • Rolled to catch the projectile from said trap instead of dodge, rolled well, caught the object but suffered contact damage (it was sickstone). 
  • Got caught with smutty book.
  • Had a breakdown during nap time.

And of course my favorite:

  • In an attempt to help @auors‘ character Wynona, who’s hand was stuck in a slime (Fool’s Water), Farrah grabbed a bucket of water and poured it on Wynona’s arm. The water had glass hidden in it and cut Wynona, and the Fool’s Water reacted with the water and exploded, injuring both characters.
143rd batch of suggested Dramione fanfictions:

Before I Knew by 0bscurum (Rated M)
He needs her name and status to climb his way back up the societal ladder, she needs his money and cunning nature to further her philanthropic ambitions. To get what they want they’ll have to work together. [Dramione. Lots of fluff, a little drama, a dash of angst, and as many fun tropes as I can manage.]

“Face it, Granger,” he said, his tone lower, “you need me.”

Any sympathy she’d just gained for him vanished. “If you think for one—”

“And—” he jumped, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “And I… need this.”

Written and recommended by nxrcissamxlfoy
 Post Hogwarts,Forced Co-workers, Redeemed Draco
Type: Multi-chap, WIP
Why should people read it: Read it for a good mix of fluff & drama, and for all of your favorite tropes rolled into one fic. Read it because it has Draco dealing with muggle office supplies, Hermione singing karaoke, Ginny being a general badass, and Harry being the little shit we know and love. Read it for background Lavender x Parvati, Ron x Susan, for Dennis Creevey and Astoria Greengrass getting some screen time. 

Give No Quarter III

You could not be sure but after your restless hours of sleep and the painfully slow pass of time, you figured it was a new day. Not that it mattered much as it only meant another in the dank cell, one of many you would no doubt spend in such misery. You sat against the only wall not made of bars, leaning your head lazily against the musty wood in silent despair.

As you let yourself relax into the subtle sway of the ship, you were suddenly shaken from your calm by the clatter of heavy steps upon the creaky stairs. It was becoming a much too familiar sound and filled you with a sense of foreboding as they were even louder than those which had preceded the dark-haired captain the day before. You inhaled deeply and held the air in your lungs as you assured yourself that you were to be released from your cell but only to atone for your assault upon the ship’s leader.

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anonymous asked:

On the Jehan and Enjolras bodyswap thing, I just realised it could be even more interesting if Enj had to give a speech at a rally in Jehan's body.

Oops I accidentally changed it to Jehan giving a speech in Enjolras’ body by misreading, I hope you don’t mind

Jehan is known to be pretty shy. After all Jehan “ha[s] an awkward air, blushe[s] at a mere nothing, and [is] very timid.”

But Jehan is also intrepid. Jean Prouvaire’s bravery hides in plain side, bubbling just at the surface. They’re shy, but they still soar on stage during slam open mics nights. Though, granted, a massive angry crowd is diffferent from a nice dim-lit café atmosphere.

Enjolras writes the speech, but it just won’t stick in Jehan’s mind. Those are not their words. They’re not their style! Not that Enjolras’ style is bad, it’s just different. Terrified to do poorly, Jehan rewrites the whole thing at the last minute, even using Courfeyrac’s back as a desk, piercing little holes in the paper…

The crowd cheers as they see Enjolras’ body climbing up the statue on the Place de la République. Enjolras has made a name for himself over the years. Charismatic leader, brilliant orator, fervent advocate for social progress… All of that pushes into Jehan as they look down at the crowd and over the skyline. Their hands shake a little as they lift the megaphone to their lips. Enjolras’ lips.

“Er…. I-…”

At the foot of the monument, Bahorel, Bossuet and Grantaire cheer for them, whistle. Adrenaline tickles in Jehan’s fingers. Their grip gets steadier.

“Esteemed people of France, and dear citizens of the world, those to whom borders are bridges rather than walls…”

Jehan is fierce, eloquent and charismatic up there. Their style is different, people can tell, even though they can’t quite pinpoint why. Jehan’s speech ends in an cheerful uproar and revolutionary chants. Jehan’s heart beats so hard it may actually bruise Enjolras’ chest.