curls and cats

megan-hufflepuff  asked:

I associate you with oversized jumpers, big bright smiles that are contagious, that smell when you walk past flowers, blossom being caugjt bu the wind and that warm feeling when a cat curls up against you

Soft gasp

I am in love with this

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.
getting myself comfy in bed for those fresh sleeps

got my 15 pillows all pluffy

got my good warm duvet

got my cat curled up on my head purring

got my 50 swords cradled in my arms

Hufflepuff Through The Seasons.

Summer: Waking up to golden light streaming through your barely closed curtains, the sound of birds chirping, nestling yourself deeper into the few white sheets that cover you. Enjoying the longer days in the sun, the warmth and the earthy smells. Spending hours playing silly, child-hood games with your friends or sitting on the front porch with a cat curled up on your lap. Sipping at chilled, lemon tea, and the sound of the soft chink of ice cubes against the glass. frantic water fights, tag-teaming against your other friends. Then watching as the last rays of sun sink beyond the horizon. The pink glow of the dusk filled clouds. Then finally settling back into bed, with a warm cup of tea and a book, while you listen to the cicadas through the open window. A light breeze sending you off to sleep.

Autumn: Waking up with a few more blankets piled on your bed, most fallen off from the still warm nights. The sun still starting to come up and the air slightly crisp. Mist laying on the distant hills.The sound of the kettle as you make tea, drinking it quietly in your warm bed. Sleeping a few extra hours, snuggling deep in your blankets. Walking through trees, laced with red, yellow and brown. Disturbing piles of freshly racked leaves, collecting a few rare beauties as you go. Stocking piling acorns like a squirrel for no reason, then feeling sad when you accidentally drop or lose one. Roasting chestnuts over an open fire. Watching as the days grow shorter and the trees deader in preparation for winter. Watching the rain pour down from the ledge near the window, nestling into a newly brought jumper. Indulging yourself in the seasonal treats. Trick or treating with your friends even though you know you’re already too old. Falling asleep under growing layers of blankets , to the feint sound of trickling rain.

Winter: Experiencing your first frost. Waking up colder than you wished. Burrowing deeper into your blankets to warm up. Eventually crawling up to make yourself a hot cup of tea while still being wrapped in every blanket you own. Feet crunching through frozen grass to get the mail. Puffing out balls of steam, pretending your a dragon. Watching as the snow begins to fall silently. Having brutal snow ball fights with friends and making snowmen and snow angels. Warming your feet up in front of the fire and drying your snow covered clothing. The sweet smell of steam in the warm air. The smell of wood smoke. Setting up the Christmas lights and the Christmas trees. Wrapping paper littering the floor. Smells wafting in from the extravagant Christmas feast. Waving your friends and family goodbye, feeling content. The sound of the kettle as you search for your long lost hot water bottle. Preparing for the cold night a head. Watching as the sun goes down early, the last blankets off snowing drifting peacefully. The dozens of blankets piled on your bed. Snuggling in deep, feeling like a badger or hedgehog. Falling asleep to the warmth of your hot water bottle.

Spring: Waking up to the fresh noise of bird song. Shoving off your blankets as the days get warmer. Snow melting and plant life is popping up everywhere. The fresh, crisp scent, like the morning after a storm. Yellow Daffodils nodding their heads in the soft breeze. Soft rain showers. Green everywhere. You pick bunches of Daffodils, and make daisy chains for all your friends. You watch as you cat turns another year older. You celebrate Easter with more chocolate than you need, feeling sick by the end of it. You watch as the days, once again, grow longer and warmer. You dance around, making dandelion wishes. Picking plums from trees and eating the sweet fruit. Making over sweet Jam with the leftover plums. Watching as sky lines appear more frequent in the deep blue sky. The silent droning of passing planes, that seem a life time away. watching as new born lambs learn to walk and prance around, giddy to explore. Feeling happy as the world feels reborn. Playing on an old chain swing, tied to a small oak. watching as the sun sets slowly. Prolonged, as if it is reluctant to see the new season’s first day die. You boil up a cup of tea and settle in bed, listening to another shower of spring rain. You sip at your tea, as your cat curls up on top of your covers. You fall asleep, dreaming for the next Summer, Autumn, and Winter.

  • Damian Wayne loves Valentine’s Day.
  • No, seriously.
  • He thinks that the commercialization is a disgusting display of Western capitalism, that romance is pointless and distracting, and that anyone who likes to indulge in either is deluding themselves about both the contents of their bank account and the national divorce rate.
  • But every year on February 14, Wayne Manor almost completely empties out as Bruce and the older Batkids head out to either spend the day with their s/o or spend the day moping with their other single friends.
  • (Statistically, the latter is more common.)
  • So Damian has an entire 24 hours unbothered by his family to do with as he wants.
  • His first Valentine’s Day at the manor, he was puzzled by how quickly everyone cleared out, until it was clear that he and Alfred would be the only ones at home until the 15th. 
  • At first, he made an effort to avoid Alfred in his quest to have a day to himself. That is, until he baked a chocolate tart and left it out in the kitchen.
  • “Stop trying to entice me with sugary confections, Pennyworth. I wish to be alone today, as it seems that it’s the only day in this godforsaken household that I may be so.”
  • He snuck back to the kitchen later that evening and ate two slices anyway.
  • Since then, every year he and Alfred made it a tradition to bake and share a chocolate tart just like the first one.
  • “I imagine you appreciate the peace and quiet as much as I do, Pennyworth.” “Perhaps a bit more than that, Master Damian. After all, I have lived through all of you and Master Bruce.” “Yet today, they’re all out conforming to societal norms of romance. Delightful, isn’t it?” “Quite right, sir.”
  • Other preferred Valentine’s Day pastimes include taking all his pets, including Goliath, on a romp around the manor grounds (much to the horror of the gardener); researching important historical events that happened on this day (his favorites are the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre and the assassination of Captain Cook); attacking training dummies with a sword; taking the Bat-vehicles for a joyride around town; and calling all of Grayson’s exes for the purpose of making rude noises down the line until they hang up.
  • As Robin is the only one on patrol that night, criminals and villains find themselves having to be extra-careful, because that kid is nasty when Batman and Nightwing aren’t around to restrain him.
  • Most of the Rogues just play it safe and reserve the one night for nice, legal dates instead. That way, Robin won’t beat you up, he’ll just lecture you instead.
  • “Tt. I don’t know what you’re thinking, Isley; adhering to a standard set by mass marketing, heteronormative sexual ideas, and American culture’s poor attempts to disguise their own inability to recognize lo–” “Kid, I’m gonna give you point-five seconds to shut the hell up before I feed you to a Venus flytrap.” “Aww, don’t get into it now Pammy; we haven’t even had dessert yet!“ 
  • He’s usually in bed at least two hours earlier than usual, Alfred the Cat curled up on his head and the original Alfred tucking him in after he falls asleep. He rests very peacefully…
  • …That is, until he wakes up the next morning on the 15th and realizes he has to deal with Drake’s constant presence again.
  • This aspect of Valentine’s Day Damian doesn’t know, but no matter how well his date is going, Dick always gets home before he wakes up so he can still give his little brother a goodnight kiss.
The signs as cat breeds

Aries: Munchkin

Taurus: Japanese Bobtail

Gemini: Manx

Cancer: Scottish Curl

Leo: Siamese Cat

Virgo: Brittish Blue Cat

Libra: Bombay Cat

Scorpio: Abysinian

Sagittarius: Bengal Cat

Capricorn: Turkish Angora

Aquarius: Snowshoe Cat

Pisces: Maine Coon

anonymous asked:

Do you think Neil has a binder (solely) for Andrew (and him) and one for his Foxes? What's inside the binder(s)? And ohh btw I just simply love your hc about the photos ((and i want more bec i love you and your hcs so much))

thanks bb <3

(neil only got the binders because he can’t cover every spare inch of the walls of their apartments in photos and articles - even he recognises that it would make it look like a serial stalker’s den. yes, andrew’s slightly judgmental expression did help him to reach that conclusion)

anyway, a list of some of the contents of neil’s post-graduation binders:

  • every photograph and article about kevin day neil can get his hands on - and there’s a lot of them. kevin holding trophies, kevin with his teams, kevin and thea in elegant clothes at big events, kevin smiling in a way that starts fake but gets more real as the years pass. kevin, alive. kevin, victorious. kevin with everything that riko tried to take from him. (enough of them that andrew made a dry comment or two about neil at least being predictable in his obsessions) (he’s quietly satisfied by the progression, too)
  • articles on robin, as both a fox and afterwards, concrete proof of neil’s work as a captain and andrew’s…something neil isn’t quite sure of sometimes, still. photos of her standing tall and proud, no trace of the mousey child who was nearly too afraid to be a fox
  • a collection of postcards addressed to them both in renee’s neat hand - pictures of mountain ranges and jungles and forests and deserts and cityscapes, ones that still make neil think about a different kind of travel than the frightened bolt he and his mother did across half the planet all those years ago with that vague kind of longing for something different
  • the entire photographic coverage of allison’s first fashion show (neil was there, which meant andrew was there. unsurprisingly, andrew ‘i wear designer clothes’ minyard found it more interesting than neil ‘the height of fashion is my partner’s oversized hoodie and these jeans that i’ve had for ten years’ josten)
  • a heavy piece of cream card inviting neil and andrew to the wedding of nicholas hemmick and erik klose (they went. neil had never seen nicky happier)
  • a picture of matt and neil hugging on the court after eschewing the more normal post-game handshake, wearing different colours and smiles
  • articles following dan’s career, from her first teams through to the foxes, including photos of her familiarly disapproving and determined and delighted expression on the sidelines or amongst her players
  • a collection of photos taken by various foxes at their ‘reunions’ - matt and dan curled in the same armchair, dan laughing because she’s getting squashed. renee braiding allison’s hair, her face all careful concentration, while allison sits on the floor between her knees drinking wine. aaron and kevin arguing, for old time’s sake. nicky and andrew making drinks while erik watches on in the background. all of them together in one mess, no one looking the right way, someone’s eyes closed, someone laughing a little bit too hard - perfect
  • a singular photo of jean moreau, helmet under his arm as he looks down at jeremy knox, the man he followed through the professional leagues post-college. he’s smiling in it, grey eyes crinkled in the corners. (neil can’t quite explain why he kept it - he doesn’t look at it much. when he does, he remembers)
  • a collection of articles about andrew on the court, from his first year pro all the way through. articles that still call him dangerous, but mean it in relation to the scoring percentages of his opposition. photos of him stretched out in goal, immortalised in brutal determination, beside total strangers calling him talented, even calling him revolutionary because of his style of play
  • more articles about andrew, off of the court - andrew as an icon, flat-faced beside LGBT campaigners for sports, speaking bluntly and truthfully and tactlessly at events as an invited guest. 
  • andrew, whose thesis on the treatment of mentally ill juveniles in the justice system was publicised by a psu student, who stared at everyone who questioned him about it in a way that unmistakably said i meant what i wrote
  • andrew, the survivor, who donates so much of his salary to a variety of causes, who did before anyone knew and who continued after it became public like he didn’t give a fuck because he didn’t
  • photos of the andrew that belong to neil, ones that make andrew curl his lip if neil pins them up - he and his brother standing shoulder to shoulder at the reception of aaron’s wedding, caught on camera by the official photographer in a very rare moment of understanding. him bathed in the light of a sunset on their balcony, all golden. he and neil together wearing red, white and blue in the locker room of a foreign stadium, ready to walk on the court for their country. him on the couch, asleep on his belly with one of the cats curled up in the cup of his lower back
  • (neil doesn’t mean to document his own history, only theirs - it happens by accident. there’s a photo of him beside kevin, medals around both of their necks at a world cup final. a photo him in the audience of an event where andrew is on the stage, photographed looking up from the crowd with a slight smile on his face included in an article on andrew. one from a reunion, taken from behind him and andrew with the sun turning them to silhouettes, including where their hands are curled together between them. a headshot of him from a where are they now-style article on the first ncaa champion fox team, scars on display and stare as bright and challenging as ever - still alive)

There’s A Nap For That

Based on this post: “If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date.” 

Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest

A/N: I started this before New Years and thought it would be done in like, three days. Oh how naive. But hey, here we are!

WC: ~6.5k
Read on AO3

Clarke doesn’t plan to be alone on New Year’s Eve, but she also doesn’t plan not to be alone–if that makes sense. She could fly back to Los Angeles and attend her mother’s extravagant corporate party, if she wanted to put herself through that. It’s definitely an option.

But she’s long since decided that it’s better to deal with the vague feelings of missing out on the New Year’s celebration over fielding questions about why she’s not following in her mother’s footsteps or, god forbid, whether she’s gotten over that whole sexuality thing yet.

So she calls Abby the night before the party, fulfills her yearly, good-daughter quota of well wishes and pleasantries, and calls it good.

And really, doing nothing on New Year’s Eve is kind of the best thing that’s happened her, stress-wise, in the last six months.

She works in the graphic design department for an uber-trendy website that facilitates commissions for freelance artists, which makes it an incredibly lucrative avenue to get her name out there in the industry. It just also happens that the company is very concerned with staying up-to-date with aesthetic trends, and has her changing logos and web layouts on a weekly basis.

It’s the kind of somewhat crappy, over demanding job that she feels weirdly excited to have, because it means her mom isn’t paying people to make her life easier.

But it has been running her to the bone, so she’s positively delighted to do absolutely nothing for a night.

Or she is until she finds out that Bellamy also doesn’t have plans for New Year’s Eve.

Keep reading