did you know that i can ink beard hairs all day

I don’t think about Harry Potter a whole lot, typically, but today I saw a video that featured Harry wearing some cool shades and I started wondering: what if Voldemort’s killing curse had struck Harry just a little lower? What if, on the first of November, 1981, the Dursleys had discovered on the doorstep their infant nephew - not with a conspicuous jagged scar, but instead with eyes the colour of electricity? How would blind Harry Potter’s life differ from the story we already know?

The first divergences are small and predictable. On his eleventh birthday, Harry’s letter from Hogwarts is written in delicate braille and the signature of Minerva McGonagall is elegantly embossed. At the Hut-on-the-Rock, the newly-revealed wizard boy is impressed not by Hagrid’s size but by the unusual depth of his voice.

Arriving at Hogwarts, we get no description of Draco Malfoy’s appearance, but instead learn the self-important scuffing sound of his footsteps, plus the fact that Crabbe and Goyle smell of old oatmeal, too much candy, and something that reminds Harry of grumpy toads.

Instead of learning “Lumos”, our blind Harry learns spells like “Oros” - which makes books and letters whisper their contents to him in their papery voices - as well as “Divinus”, which causes his wand to hum like a tuning fork the closer it gets to the object he’s thinking of.

One very notable thing has changed, however. In this world, no-one will ever tell Harry that he has his mother’s eyes. It’s hard to tell how much this changes Harry’s story; perhaps, without Lily’s eyes to stir up such emotion, Professor Snape won’t inflict Harry with the sadistic cruelty of a jealous lover - though he still treats the Potter boy with the same distance and hostility he felt towards Harry’s father, James (this, plus the acrid fumes and addling, humid vapours of the potions classrooms, continues to make the subject one of Harry’s least favourite).

With eyes that mark him as “The Boy who Lived” he may not be able to see the reflection of his desires in the Mirror of Erised, but upon placing his hand on the mirror’s cool surface Harry’s head is filled with the murmurs of familiar and comforting voices - his uncles, grandmothers, great-aunts and second cousins - and he is taken by an overwhelming sense of belonging, of being home.

Our sighted Harry always relied on the help of his friends to overcome challenges, and this remains true through the challenges to reach the Philosopher’s Stone. Hermione will still fend off the devil’s snare and solve the potion riddle, while Ron’s command over the chess board will still get the trio through the fourth chamber. Unable to see, Harry may yet be able to capture the winged key in the third chamber; instead of chasing the key like a daring snitch-seeker, he rises cautiously on his broom into the middle of the whirling, fluttering cloud and waits patiently until his keen ears distinguish the slow and clumsy flapping of the injured old key, grabbing it cleanly out of the air as it lumbers past him.

In his second year, Harry’s blindness is if anything an advantage in the fight against the basilisk, making him immune to the serpent’s petrifying gaze as he follows the sound of Fawkes’ voice to rend it through its head. (Incidentally, the repercussions of Dobby’s meddling this year will be slightly lessened, as who could blame a blind twelve-year-old for knocking over a sugared violet pudding - although the Dursleys will try - or bumping into a wall at Central Cross station?)

Professor Trelawney’s classes in third year could only be incredibly tedious for Harry, being unable to read tea leaves or see into crystal balls. What’s more, the Divination professor makes near-constant references to “blind prophets” and “third eyes”, which Harry can’t help but feel is somewhat offensive. Hermione will be very patient with Harry when they sit down to practice their astrology readings and Harry has to ask “Where are the stars, Hermione? The stars? Is Mars in the house of Jove right now? What’s the moon doing?”

With all the talk of The Grim this year, all Harry notices is the lingering ‘shaggy dog smell’ that seems to follow him around whenever he’s outside the castle.

Will a blind boy be allowed to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Of course he will! Wizards don’t understand ‘safety’. Our Harry may not be a confident flyer, but he still has command of the Accio charm, as well as an entire stash of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products under his bed in his dormitory. Even a Hungarian Horntail can’t see you through Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, not can it smell you once you’ve detonated a few dung bombs. After being tricked into devouring an entire case of Skiving Snackboxes, any dragon is going to feel like taking the day off.

Harry doesn’t recognise Hermione at first when she attends the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum: her improved posture changes the sound of her footsteps, and her voice has taken on a new lilt and clarity after Madam Pomfrey shrunk her teeth to undo Malfoy’s hex. Masking her characteristic smells of library books and toothpaste, she carries with her the flowery scent of the cosmetic potion she put in her hair.

Harry will be incapable of seeing thestrals, even at the start of his fifth year; after hearing the clopping of hooves from his carriage and remarking that “regular, horse-drawn transport seems rather mundane for Hogwarts”, he will be drawn into a very awkward and illuminating conversation with Luna Lovegood about the nature of death.

Umbrige will be described to us not as “toad-like”, but in terms of her voice “like an indignant budgerigar stuck in an expensive vase”. Her classroom smells strongly to Harry of talcum powder and too-sweet tea, with an undertone of vinegar and hints of nightshade.

With a fragment of Tom Riddle’s soul trapped within his eyes, Harry’s visions of Voldemort are stronger than ever, and he rushes as always to confront the Death Eaters - a group of determined friends by his side - at the Ministry of Magic.

Of course this Harry will succeed in hunting down the remaining Horcruxes and tracing the paths of the Deathly Hallows. How could he not, with his magical talents, his powerful capacity for empathy and love, and the endless help of his his allies and friends?

Coming to in a spectral representation of King’s Cross Station, Harry recoils from the whimpering fragment of Voldemort’s should before being greeted by the figure of Albus Dumbledore, whom Harry recognises from his distinguished voice - like a grand old oak tree, its branches bowed under the weight of a thousand stars. Harry’s figment of Dumbledore smells like soap and gold wire, like ink, polished wood and lemon sherbets, and very faintly of kind and humble tears. Occasional wisps of the old man’s expansive beard brush past.

Harry has the same conversation with Dumbledore about life and death, about his own plans and foils, and about Voldemort. Harry is offered the same choice: to go back to the land of the living or to board a train into the beyond. Harry still chooses to return to Voldemort’s camp in the Forbidden Forest, for the sake of his friends, whom he knows and loves by sound and smell and touch.

Harry - The Boy Who Lived - the boy with eyes like lightning, duels Voldemort without ever seeing his snake-like features or the contempt and malice in his red-ringed pupils, and defeats the dark lord just as he does in the original story, because the sum of one’s strength is more than any one sense, just like a community’s strength is greater than that of any one person. Beside the skinny boy with the dark glasses held together by Spell-o-tape stand a frizzy-haired muggle girl who has read every book, two of redhead siblings from a huge and loving family, a forgetful boy raised by grandmother, a girl who still carries around a battered pair of Spectre Specs, and countless other witches and wizards who know that love, acceptance and cooperation are the most powerful magics of all.

Student Council Prez [2]

Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 2.5 OR Episode 3
Words: 3918
Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, High School!Au

“You. are. insane.” Min Yoongi shouts to the sky in absolute exasperation.

The both of you are lying on the rocks of a river bank, next to a cycling park and far from the bridge. Your clothes and hair are drenched, the occasional person shooting the two of you odd looks as they pass on their bike but most importantly, you can’t hear any police sirens.

With the adrenaline slowing down and your heartbeat steadying, you can only choke out some laughter in utter disbelief at the crazy events. Maybe you’ve gone really insane.

Yoongi sits up, narrowing his eyes at you. “So you’re a drug dealer?”

“I’d prefer to go by…medication distributer.” You grin, rising to a seated position.

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George Weasley x reader Yule Ball

Pairing: George x reader

Warnings: Nah. It’s just fluff

A/N: Hey guys! This is my very first fanfic, hope you guys like it. The fanfic takes place in The Goblet of Fire and feel free to request. For now, I’m only going to accept Fred and George requests. Make sure to vote and requests are open! :^) 

My breath hitched.

My heart beat faster.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped.

There I saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen; The woman I’ve been madly in love with.

(Y/N) was a girl from my year. A girl that I find myself slowly falling for whenever I see a glimpse of her beauty and when I started getting to know who she really is. (Y/N) was sorted into Ravenclaw in our 1st year whilst I was sorted into Gryffindor. At first, I didn’t really care about it because I used to think of her as just another student in Hogwarts when in reality she’s more than that. The day I first talked to her was in the library when I decided to sit next to her whilst she was doing her homework in Transfiguration whilst I do mine. Whilst I was doing my homework, I accidentally nudged the bottle of ink which spilled black ink on her paper. 

“Oh crap! I’m so so sorry” I apologized picking up the bottle and trying my best to stop the ink from going to her parchment paper but, I made it worse.

She sighed. Frustration and anger showed on her face. She looks like she will punch me in the face any second for what I just did.

“I’m very very so-” 

“It’s fine. Just be more careful if you don’t want me to punch you” she said making me chuckle.

“I’m George Weasley” 

“I know. You’re the other half of the Weasley twins famous for your pranks”

“How’d you know? So what do you think about our pranks?” I said. A smirk growing on my face.

“Well, obviously I’ve seen some of your pranks and I can overhear girls blabber on how great you and Fred are and how you guys were a hot piece of meat.” she replied rolling her eyes at the last sentence. “oh and the pranks? I’d say I’m impressed about how you guys could think of such ridiculous pranks and manage to not get caught” she added.

“Right they are,” I said winking making her roll her eyes and laugh.

“What? Don’t you agree with them Ms? what’s your name?” I said.

“My name’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and no, I don’t agree with them” she replied smiling a bit. 

We then continued our conversation; talking about our lives, interests, and sharing lots of banter. This soon develops a close friendship between us despite our differences.

Days, weeks, months, years, have passed. I started to feel something different when I’m with her. My heart beats faster when I stare deep in her (Y/E/C) orbs or by just simply glancing at her. The atmosphere changes whenever we talk to each other–feeling like it’s only the two of us in the room. The sadness I feel whenever she doesn’t go to our meeting spot in the library. 

That’s when I realize

That I’m head over heels for (Y/N).

I fell in love with her personality, her beauty, and her imperfections. Everything about her just seems perfect.

Now fast forward to the present.

The day of our Yule Ball.

I still can’t believe though that I had the balls to ask her out. Although I did say that I’ll only go with her as “friends” since I fear that she finds out I like her and that will ruin our friendship. 

She did say yes so the nervousness kind of lessened. My thoughts were cut off when my eyes laid on a particular person.

My breath hitched.

My heart beat faster.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped.

There I saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen; The woman I’ve been madly in love with. 

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) entered the room. Slowly capturing lots of people’s attention. Men’s eyes were widened and shocked by her beauty whilst some women gave glares and some gave her compliments as she replies a simple nod or a thank you to each of them.

bloody hell, she’s breathtaking. 

As she started walking near me, my eyes locked with hers.

Finally, she stands in front of me with a smile plastered on her face.

Today she looked different–in a good way.

She was wearing a blue, off-shoulder ball gown to represent her house color. She wore light makeup and ditched her eyeglasses. Her (Y/H/L) (Y/H/C) was styled into a fancy bun. A few strands were left. (sorry if you have short hair)

“hey,” she said breaking me in my trance.

“why hello m’lady,” I said trying to sound confident as possible to hide my nervousness.

“hello handsome,” she said with the same confidence.

“s-so u-uh want a  d-drink?” I said with my confidence crumbling into pieces.

“Is the George Weasley stuttering? Wow. First time to ever hear you like that” she said chuckling. 

“Oh shut up” I replied laughing as I started to feel my cheeks heat up.

“Sure. I’d love something to drink” she said.

I walked away and when I started blending in the crowd, my speed gradually increased and finally arrived at the table filled with food. I poured wine to two glasses then I felt a weight on my shoulder causing some of the wine to spill.

“Georgie! A beautiful date you got there. Finally got the balls to ask her out, eh?” Fred said

“Oh shut up. I asked her out as ‘friends’” I replied.

Fred groaned and said 

“Merlin’s beard George! You have got to ask her out on an ‘actual’ date before someone does. With that beauty and personality, I’m pretty sure a lot of men are willing to ask her out someday if you won’t ask her” 

Fred’s right. Just when I left grabbing a drink I saw a guy from Durmstrang flirting with her. I felt a sudden wave of pain when I saw this. I’ve always hated that feeling–the jealousy and pain I feel whenever I see her chat with boys and even sometimes she’s oblivious when the guy he’s talking to flirt with her. 

“You’re right, Freddie” I sighed.

“Now don’t just stand here like a wuss! Stop wussing out! Go and get her, Georgie!” Fred said pushing me lightly. 

“Alright, alright, I will,” I said and went back to (Y/N).

I went to her and spotted her by herself. I rushed to her and gave her the glass of wine. She thanked me and took a sip.

The ceremony soon started and soon enough we all started dancing to the music with our partners. The music finally ended and was replaced by a slower one. 

I placed both of my hands on her hips whilst her hands moved to my shoulders. Her touch lingering, sending shivers down my spine and making my heart beat faster. Our foreheads touched as we slowly sway to the music. 

“Had fun tonight?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. 

We continue to dance in an uncomfortable silence.

“Come with me,” I said breaking the ice. 

“Excuse me?”

“Come with me” I repeated.

“To where?”

“Somewhere else,” I said and offered her my hand.

She took it and we both leave the room.

We both ran down the halls of Hogwarts with (Y/N) following behind.

“George slow down! It’s not easy to run with heels you know!” (Y/N) panted.

“Sorry!” I said slowing down my pace.

We then finally arrived at our destination: The Astronomy Tower.

I heard a gasp behind me so I looked at (Y/N)’s astonish face as she slowly walked next to me.

  The view from the Astronomy Tower was fascinating. The moon illuminated in the sky along with the stars and there weren’t many clouds.

I glanced back at (Y/N)  and the first thing that I noticed was how her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Her nose was in a shade of red and so are her cheeks due to the cold breeze. Her skin illuminated in the moonlight. And those lips that are tinted in a light shade of pink. Looked so soft and kissable. 

All I can say is that she’s way more beautiful compared to the view.

“So, why’d you bring me here?” she asked breaking my trance.

That’s when the nervousness came back. The same amount of nervousness when I asked her out to the Yule Ball. What should I do? Should I kiss her already? Should I make a long sweet message? Or should I- Oh no word vomit.

“I l-like y-y-you,” I said.

“What?” She asked in shock.

“I l-l-like y-y-you. I’ve always had. Ever since I spilled ink on your homework. I love everything about you. Your eyes, your hair, your smile, your laugh, and even your imperfection. Basically everything about you. I know this sounds so cheesy and all but a day without you feels blue.” I said.

She stood there. Her cheeks got redder and her smile was gone.

“I know you probably don’t like me back and I’m pretty sure I look like an idiot but I hope this won’t end our friendship” I replied. I felt a tear fell down my cheek and my heart breaking.

Soon enough I was crying. In front of the girl that I love. 

I felt embarrassed and my legs felt week. I fell on my knees as I felt her stare at me.

She came near me and sat next to me. She made me look at me by grabbing my chin with her thumb and index finger. She wiped the tears falling from my face and I felt her forehead against mine.

“I,” she said as she came nearer.

“love,” she said. Our lips centimeters away.

“you” she whispered.

I crashed my lips to her soft ones and it was the best feeling I have ever felt. I finally got to kissed the girl that I love. The kiss was cut off when we heard someone cheered from the back.

“WOOH YEAH GET SOME GEORGIE!” we heard Fred’s voice.

“Oh piss off!” I shouted looking at (Y/N) whose face is red.

“So, date at Three Broomsticks next week?”

“absolutely,” she said.

“best. day. ever” she said.

“not only did I get to wear this beautiful dress and get to kiss you, I get to see you cry too!” she added laughing.

“Oh shut up,” I said and kissed her again.

Unexpected Soulmates

So I saw @shipping-cegan post an imagine about a tattoo soulmate au and I couldn’t help myself. Sorry if it’s short or if it’s awful. This is really the first thing that I have posted. Also Carl is nineteen in this.


Carl stared down at the engraving of ink on the pale skin of his wrist. This tattoo was supposed to complete itself when he found his soulmate, so they say. His first love was a boy named Ron. Let’s just say, it didn’t turn out great for the both of them. Carl lost his eye and Ron lost his life. Then he met Enid but she left for someone else, leaving the teen heartbroken. Then Lydia but the same ended happening.

Carl pondered why it worked for everyone else. It worked for his father. He found Michonne after loosing Carl’s mother and their tattoos completed. It worked for a close friend of the family, Daryl. His tattoo completed when he met a man named Paul, who preferably goes by Jesus. All they had to do was bump into each other one fateful day for their tattoos to complete. He actually thought about walking around the streets of Atlanta, Georgia and bumping into everyone just to see if the tattoo would complete itself. He decided not to. He had completely given up hope. There was nobody in this world for Carl Grimes.

After the call ended, Carl sighed. He had decided to get the tattoo completed. The teen didn’t know what it was exactly. But the person on the phone sounded trustworthy enough that they could complete it. All he had to do was wait until Friday. It was going to be a painfully long week for Carl.

The long week ended and Carl walked down one of many busy sidewalks in Atlanta. The sun was starting to set and the colourful lights of businesses were flickering on. The cool wind of autumn blew through his shoulder length brown hair. Carl made sure his wound where his eye should be was covered up by his bangs. The teen really didn’t want to scare any children that just so happen to walk past him. During the week, he had saved enough money to pay the tattoo artist for something simple. Carl looked down at his wrist. There was one straight line and then a line making a right angle attached to the right side of it. That line had a half - circle indent in it. He hated it so much. If tattoo removal wasn’t painful and expensive, he would have done it long ago. Carl eventually found the Saviour Tattoo Parlour. He breathed in and went inside, not regretting the decision he was making.

The smell of ink and cigarettes hit Carl as soon as he walked in the door. A woman sat at the counter, colourful tattoos covered both of her arms, and her hair was up; most of it black but some of it blonde.

“What’s your name, kid?” she asked.

“Carl Grimes,” he said. Carl watched as she flipped through a few pages before nodding.

“Sit right over there. He’ll be out in a moment when he’s done with D,” the woman said, motioning towards a chair. He made his way over to the chair slowly before sitting in it. The woman’s name was Arat, according to her name tag on her shirt. Two women came out of the back room. “Laura. Sherry. Is he done with Dwight yet,” Arat said, “can’t wait for him to get done with him and this kid so I can go the hell home.”

“He passed out… again,” the one that Carl assumed was Sherry said.

“At least Simon’s not here to distract him,” Laura said and the three women laughed. Carl stared down at his tattoo. All he did now was wait.

A man’s voice snapped Carl out of his thoughts.

“So… is my next damn appointment here?” the man asked Arat.

“Yeah, right over there,” Arat said, pointing at Carl. He looked up at the man. He had black hair that was smoothed back, a salt and pepper beard, and wore a black leather jacket.

“What’s your name, kid?” he said.

“Carl Grimes.”

“Well Carl Grimes, I’m Negan. Why are you here on this fine evening?”

“Well you see, I have this tattoo and…” Carl trailed off as soon as he looked down at his wrist. He saw his tattoo had been completed. It was a puzzle piece. Carl glanced up at Negan who was looking at his own wrist. He then saw the man look over at the teen wrist and Negan busted out laughing. The three women looked at them with curiosity.

“Well holy shit. Look at this. This is the most unexpected event I have ever had in my life. Never thought this would have been completed, to be honest. Thought about completing it on my own a few times,” Negan said, showing Carl his wrist. Negan had the same puzzle piece tattoo that Carl had.

“I guess you could say we’re unexpected soulmates,” Carl said.

“Guess so, kid.”

Somewhere in Savannah

 2k word count. Post season 4 James/Thomas bliss :))) Beginning and ending with lofty ideals on paper but a lot of loving in-between. NSFW. Sorry I haven’t been writing for this blog as much lately; my other one keeps me plenty busy. But I am writing a nice long post-show reunion fic on AO3 so if you haven’t checked it out yet you should! And without further ado…


James leaned in close over his shoulder.

“Another treatise? What’s this one?”

Grateful for the interruption, he placed his quill back into the nearly empty pot of ink and leaned back in the chair, close enough that James’s ruddy beard tickled his ear.

“Actually I am basing it on piracy,” he replied with smile.


James came around and picked up the topmost parchment and skimmed it.

“It is a call for democracy,” he said proudly. “The very same ideals you have told me about in detail, except of course I am not using the term ‘piracy’ anywhere.”

James put down the paper and raised his eyebrows.

“So this is why you’ve kept hounding me about my knowledge about the inner workings of pirates these last weeks.”

Keep reading

when love arrives, it looks tired.

it looks ready to leave. it is ready to leave.

he’s got a lot of brown in his beard and you want to touch every single shade of brown on him with your own fingers.

love arrives looking so ordinary you barely recognize it. 

and this time?

love knows. 

love knows all the super heroes you love and more. love knows every pick up line you have ever read. this time love know what you are up to and isn’t scared. this time love is so sure about the battles he wants to fight and survive. love cuts off his hair the very next day after you meet him. this time love has two dogs and bathtub that changes color. this time love doesn’t need you to wear orange to love it, he already loves it.  

this time everyone can touch love but you 

and your entire body aching to be next to his, shrinking without his body next to yours. Your hands have never felt so empty. This time love knows nothing about poetry but you are already wrapping yourself around every single word he says. 

(in the back of your head, an old love hammers into the walls of your skull, 

i can’t believe you did this to me) 

and this time love loves you back. and doesn’t stop loving. 

Merry Christmas, theillustriouskid!

whose gift request included feral!Derek, magic!Stiles, and royalty!au (with commoner Stiles). Hope you enjoy what I came up with, and happy holidays!!

The castle guards come for Stiles while he’s putting on a simple show, transforming weeds to roses for coppers in the plaza. They don’t offer a word of explanation, not even a token complaint about him Practicing without a permit (which he would totally have, thank you very much, if he could just collect enough coppers to apply for one).

He knows his rights, though, and is still protesting them vehemently while the stone-faced pair drag him through a back gate and into the castle, along a series of what must be servants’ hallways, only to come to a stop in a richly adorned room that seems to lead right into one of the royals’ bedchambers.

He cuts off when he catches sight of an older man, clad in crimson velvet, watching him from where he sits on a simple wooden throne.

“Peter Hale, I presume.” It would be harder to guess, but the Hale royals are few and far between in the Beacon Hills these days. Most of the family was murdered years ago, in a vicious betrayal of treaty that sparked the Six Year War. Cora Hale, the youngest survivor and Peter’s niece, has long been married off in an advantageous match to the south, while the rightful heir, Derek… well, Stiles has only seen the man once, years ago and in passing, but he hasn’t forgotten that face.

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Lena Luthor/you fic chapter 4

Originally posted by swallowedabug

Previous installments: 


A splash of cold water hits your face, snapping you back into consciousness.  You sputter and blink rapidly, trying to clear the liquid from your eyes, and a sharp pain shoots through your head from the back of your skull.  The room you’re in is lit by a single, swinging light bulb above your head and the walls are made up of simple grey concrete blocks.  

Despite the way your head aches, you lift your face to get a look at your captors.  You aren’t surprised, really, to see the man from the motel.  The figure next to him, however, is unfamiliar.

“So, you’re the one who crossed our client?”  He drops the metal bucket in his hands to the floor and walks up to you.  “I was expecting something more…impressive.  Especially since you’ve been fucking the Luthor bitch.”

A rough hand grips the underside of your chin and forces your face up towards the light.  He moves your head side to side, studying you.  You don’t speak.

“You know what happens now, don’t you?  I mean, you have to expect this when you get involved with someone like them.  The Luthors aren’t a very…forgiving family.  But—“ he releases your chin and you level your gaze, “—this is going to take a while.  You know how this business works.  Some people pay us to get their problems out of the way.  Some pay for revenge.  Lillian will be out soon—she’s paying someone else for that—so obviously she wants the latter.  That’s where you, and this,” he explains, nodding towards the far side of the room where a camera sits on a tripod, “come into play.”

“Then get it over with.”

The two men look surprised that you’ve chosen to speak and exchange a glance.  

“You’re going to make this fun, aren’t you?” he rubs his beard thoughtfully and then turns to his partner.  “Let’s make the first tape then.”


Lena’s heart dropped when she arrived at work that morning and saw your desk empty.  She had finally been able to sleep last night after leaving your apartment, having felt like maybe things would turn out alright between the two of you.  

Lena allowed herself to try your cellphone twice before she deleted your number.  She wouldn’t let this devastate her.  Not after she had finally climbed every other mountain in her life.  

And if she was being honest, she was angry with herself.  Someone with her intelligence and life experience should have seen this coming from a mile away.  You weren’t going to change for her.  This wasn’t some romantic comedy where the rough around the edges girl has a heart of gold.  No one was coming to save her from her sadness.  It had been foolish to hope for that, even for a short time.

Three days passed before the yellow envelope showed up in her mail basket.  As per usual since you disappeared, she poured herself a large glass of wine before sorting through the mix of ads and bills.  The fact that her name and address was handwritten, combined with the lack of a return address, caught her eye and she picked up the yellow rectangle curiously.  There was something solid inside and Lena opened it and tried to remember if she had ordered anything online lately.  A clear CD case with the words ‘Play Me’ scrawled in black ink across the front clattered onto her kitchen table.

A sense of unease pooled in Lena’s stomach as she reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop.  Sweat coated her palms and the dark haired woman chewed her bottom lip while the machine whirred to life.  It seemed to take forever for the DVD to load and when it did, Lena’s heart dropped.  A choked whimper escaped her lips at the sight of the room captured on the video.  

Your mother sends her regards, Lena.”

An unfamiliar man spoke into the camera and then walked into the center of the bare room.  There was no doubt that you were the figure tied to the chair under the light and Lena covered her mouth with her hands.  She sat, frozen at her table, and watched as the man walked over to you and without a moment of hesitation, struck you across the face with a closed fist.  The sound echoed against the cement walls and Lena felt her blood turn to ice.  Your head snapped to the side as another punch was thrown.  

The small timeline on the bottom of the media player showed 15 minutes remaining on the film.

You think you’re tough, huh?”

The man grabbed you by the hair and craned your head up so that the lightbulb illuminated your face.  

How long do you think you’ll last before you start crying like a little bitch for your girlfriend, huh?  We have all night.”

He used his other hand to throw two fast punches across your face.  You spat out a stream of blood and the man grunts a laugh.  Another figure stepped into the frame, gripping what looked like an aluminum bat, and Lena couldn’t watch anymore.  Her hand shot forward and she slammed the pause button.  A wave of immense guilt washed over her at how fast she had assumed the worst of you.  Lena had sat in her own self-pity for days while you were somewhere suffering because of her.  Her hand trembled and she reached forward and scrolled to the end of the video, needing to know whether or not you were alive.  A sob ripped through her chest at the sight of you slumped over in the chair, blood staining your shirt and face.  Your chest still rose up and down.

Lena’s vision blurred with tears and she practically leapt up from the table, now filled with panic and adrenaline.  The heiress ran towards her balcony, almost as if on auto-pilot, and she threw open the french doors.


Her voice cracked from how loudly she screamed the hero’s name and Lena gripped the railing separating herself from the streets below.  She sucked in another breath and repeated her desperate cry.  Aware of how hysterical she had to seem, but uncaring, Lena continued to strain her vocal chords until, finally, the red and blue clad girl landed beside her.

“Lena, what’s wrong?”

“My mother—“ Lena gasped, mascara running, “—she had them take Y/N and they’re hurting her—“

“Slow down,” Supergirl gripped her shoulders and did her best to steady the woman.  “Who took who?”

“Y/N, my…” Lena’s voice faltered and the blonde understood almost immediately.

“It’s okay.  Who took her?”

“I-I don’t know.  Two men, but I don’t know.  My mother hired them to h-hurt her and there’s a video on my computer.”

“It’s all right, Lena.  Can you show me the video?” Supergirl’s voice was level and steady, but even she found herself thrown off by Lena’s distressed state.  The CEO was always so poised and yet she seemed reduced to a mess now.  

“Yes,” Lena nodded and led her into the nicely furnished condo.  Supergirl did her best to hide her horror at the images on the laptop that Lena showed her.  

“Can you save her?”

“I’ll do my best,” the hero promised earnestly.  “I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.”

Alright guys, what should happen next chapter?  More pain and suffering or more pain and suffering? :)

Six Pills, Gorillaz Fanfic {2D x Murdoc}, Chapter 1

One pill, two pills, three pills, more. Five pills, six pills, seven pills, encore.

It was the usual situation, with rain drops staining the opaque glass of the bedroom window.

His arm rested against the ruined pillow on the side of the little couch, positioned closed to the unmade bed.

Headache, nausea, muscles aching. There wasn’t a single part of his body at peace with itself, not to mention his mind.

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You’re My Light

A request by @siennese. She wanted a version of a christmas Maya where Lucas was involved. This is what came to mind. I hope you like it. 

Riley had just gotten home from her the gift exchange with her friends. When she walked in, she saw her parents and Auggie were curled up on the couch. They were watching Home Alone, but instead of joining them she went straight to her room.

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I’m Castiel, Part 3

Author: castielohcastiel

Characters: Angel!Reader, Castiel, Sam, Dean, OMC Ryan

Relationships: Castiel x Reader

Warning : drinking, angst I guess…

Word Count :1689

A/N: Part 4 coming soon! Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Summary:  You are in love with the fallen angel Castiel, but when a witch casts a spell on him, it causes him to have no recollection of who you are. Will you ever be able to get his memories of you back to him? Wil you ever be able to tell him how you really feel?

Song I listened to while writing this was “I am Human” By Brian Buckley Band

Part 1,Part 2

Standing at the bar, ordering a round of beers for the gang, you try to relax. Trying to not think about how close Cas sat next to you, on the ride over. The bartender sets the beers in front of you, grabbing two in one hand, you are about to grab the other ones, when a hand reaches for them. “Need help?” A very handsome rugged man smiles down at you. His blond locks came down to his shoulder, a decent beard and eyes that  looked like two little earths. You had to admit,he looked pretty damn hot. You smile and thank him as he follows you to the booth. Dean immediately shoots a glare at the guy then you. You shrug softly, setting the beers down, then grabbing the ones from the man, “Thanks.” He smiles at you, nodding to the three men at the table. Sam gives him a polite smile,while Dean just gives him a sarcastic huff.  Castiel glances at you then the man then back at you. “I’m Ryan” The man held is hand out towards you. Taking it, you tell him your name and the boys. “Well, it was nice meeting you, don’t leave without saying goodbye” Ryan smiles at you, lightly patting your shoulder, before returning to the company he was with.

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Derek- Something Good About This Place

Request-  Hi! Can you do an imagine where the reader is Deaton’s niece who just became a vet and is a emissary too. She just moved to Beacon Hills and she’s kinda nervous about her new job. Derek comes in wounded and they instantly like each other. Thanks :)

A/N- Of course! It’s been so long since I’ve written a Derek imagine, so this was refreshing.

“Finally,” you breathed as the clock on the wall of your office ticked to eight o’clock.
Technically it wasn’t your office, it was your Uncle Alan’s, but he had left you in charge while he was away. Having just graduated from vet school while also knowing some extra supernatural knowledge made you the perfect replacement while he was in Russia. You were a qualified emissary and a qualified vet, but you were still a little nervous about taking up the job.
Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly the safest town and you had heard some of your uncle’s horror stories. He had been in Beacon Hills a long time, but so much had happened in the span of a few years. He had been threatened, kidnapped, beaten and much more, just because he happened to be the emissary to Scott McCall’s pack. Now that was your job, at least temporarily, so it made sense for you to be a little uneasy, didn’t it?
As the clock ticked to closing time, you hopped out of your chair and walked out of the office. It would only take you a few minutes to flip the sign on the door to closed and lock everything up, and then you could finally go home. You didn’t want to linger in the office after dark, especially not with a violent, rabid beast running around town.
You walked over to the door and peered out through the window for a few seconds. The parking lot was deserted and things seemed to be quiet, so you reached out and flipped the sign from open to closed. After a few more moments of staring at the lock, you reached out and flipped that too, just for good measure.
You backed away from the door, already beginning to dream about sliding into your pajamas and turning on Netflix. Unfortunately, that fantasy was cut short as a pale, bloody hand appeared out of nowhere and began to frantically slap itself against the glass.
You shrieked and stumbled back, clapping a hand over your mouth in shock. You watched, completely stunned as two shapes appeared out of nowhere, one holding the other up in support while still trying to bang on the door.
“Y/n!” the voice cried. “A little help here?”
You sighed, feeling your fear dissipate at the familiar voice. Now that you knew who was banging on the door, you quickly reached out to unlock and open it. “Stiles? What the hell?”
“‘What the hell’ me?” he questioned. “You’re the one just standing there while we’re covered in blood out here!”
You gave the boy a quick once over and saw that he was indeed covered in blood, but you quickly realized that none of it was his. Instead, it seemed to be coming from the man that he was struggling to hold up. You could see that he was tall, although it was hard to tell when he was slumped over like that. He had dark hair and a scruffy beard dotting his face, but the only features you were really concerned about at the moment were the large slashes that covered his abdomen.
His shirt seemed to be almost entirely torn through, hanging off of his body in strips, and the bleeding didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon. You might have been nervous about your first day actually working, but when it came to saving lives, that seemed to be what you did best.
“Bring him in the back,” you ordered, striding forward and holding open the swinging door so he could pass through. “What happened to him?”
“We ran into the Beast,” Stiles explained as he yanked Derek into the back. “We were trying to follow it and when we found it at the school it kind of tried to rip Derek to shreds…god, there were so many bodies Y/n.”
“Not the best thing to come back to,” the man slurred and for the first time you got a look at his half-lidded eyes.
“Well hopefully he won’t be one of them,” you told him quickly, rummaging through several drawers in the back. “Get him on the table.”
“Me?” Stiles repeated, eyeing the raised metal surface.
“No, the other lanky teenage boy covered in blood,” you snapped. “Yes, you!”
Stiles eyed the table reluctantly and you sighed. “Help me.”
You reached forward and grabbed Derek’s legs, and with Stiles’ help, you swung him up onto the table. “So this is the famous Derek Hale. I’m guessing giant claws did this to him?”
Stiles nodded. “Enormous claws. God, the thing looked like it was made out of ink.”
“Ok thanks,” you told him. “Now get out.”
“W-what?” Stiles sputtered.
“Get out,” you repeated. “I’m the emissary here, Stiles. Go wait in the waiting room.”
“I am giving you three seconds to get out of this room before you end up worse than him,” you warned. “And I don’t need claws to do that.”
Stiles swallowed, nodding vigorously before stumbling out of the room backwards. Derek chuckled weakly from where he was lying on the table. I like this girl, he thought.
“I like you too,” you informed him. “But I would prefer you covered in a lot less blood.”
“I said that out loud?” he groaned, fighting a wave of nauseating pain.
“Yep,” you confirmed as you grabbed a pair of scissors and started to cut away his shirt. “Don’t worry, Derek. You’re going to be just fine.”
All Derek could do was nod as he drifted into unconsciousness, but he held onto your voice as you mumbled to yourself.
“Antiseptic,” your voice said as it began to fade away. “Antiseptic, where did I put the…”
Suddenly pain cut through Derek’s muggy thoughts, burning bright and hot against his skin. He probably cried out, although he couldn’t sense much of anything other than the burning sensation stinging through the deep lacerations on his stomach. He squirmed on the cold metal table, fighting to get away from whatever was causing him this much pain.
“Hey, hey, hey, stop!” your familiar voice cried. “Derek, I know it hurts but I need to clean them. You need to stay still for me, okay? It would really hurt my pride if I had to call Stiles back in here to help hold you down.”
Derek let out a breathy laugh and nodded. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut as you cleaned his wounds, and after what felt like hours, it was over. He collapsed back onto the table as you moved away from him, sweat dripping from his brow.
You looked back over your shoulder at him and with a satisfied smile, you realized that his wounds were slowly beginning to close. You knew they still needed to be covered, so you quickly grabbed a few of the bigger gauze pads from one of the cabinets above the counter.
Derek sighed heavily as your gentle fingers placed the gauze over the scratches and you looked down at him in concern. Deaton had told you he had been gone for several months and that he wasn’t sure whether the Hale would even return to Beacon Hills. You were glad he was back, because Scott seemed to need all the help he could get, but you couldn’t even imagine his reaction at coming back to this much chaos and bloodshed. It was only his first night back and he had been nearly sliced apart by a giant, inky beast.
What a shitty welcome home, you thought as you secured the last piece of gauze in place with medical tape. You leaned forward and peered down at Derek’s face, no longer taut with pain. Now that you no longer had to worry about saving his life, you took a moment to admire his handsome features. You remembered Talia Hale from when you were a small girl, and you realized Deaton was right. Derek did look like his mother.
You reached behind you and grabbed a cloth from the stack on the counter, leaning down to dab the sweat from Derek’s face. Assured that he would be okay alone for a few minutes, you decided you had better go talk to Stiles. With one small, comforting squeeze to Derek’s hand, you turned away, only to have to your wrist caught in strong grasp.
You jumped a little, looking down at Derek’s eyes in shock as they fluttered open. You had been so sure he was asleep.
“Don’t,” he breathed, his voice stronger than it had been before. “Don’t go.”
Derek looked up at you from the table and he knew he wasn’t making the best first impression as strong, former alpha. You were looking down at him curiously, but at the moment he was too out of it to care. All he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave.
“Okay,” you whispered, reaching down to squeeze his hand once more. “I’ll stay.”
You stood there for a few more moments, your warm hand placed on his as his breathing slowly began to even out. This time, you stayed until you were sure he was asleep.

“Oh god,” Scott breathed, shoving open the door of the vet clinic. “Please tell me he’s okay.”
“He’s fine,” you promised him as you held up your hands in assurance. “He should be all healed up within the next hour.”
You looked down at your hands, glad you had washed all the blood off of them before going out into the waiting room. You were confident that if Scott had seen them, he would have had an aneurysm on top of the breakdown he already seemed to be experiencing.
“Don’t worry, Scott,” you continued. “I wouldn’t let him die.”
Scott sighed deeply, reaching up to run a hand through his dark hair. “Okay, can I see him?”
You nodded. “He’s in the back.”
You followed Scott into the exam room as Stiles jumped out of his chair and did the same. As you passed through the door, you watched as the Alpha walked over to Derek, still lying on the table.
“Derek?” he asked in concern. “You okay, man?”
Derek opened his eyes, staring up at Scott in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Scott let out a sigh of relief, audible enough that you could hear it from all the way across the room. “Oh thank god, dude. I thought you were a goner. I thought you were never coming back.”
Derek frowned as Scott threw his arms around him and in seconds he was sitting up and shoving him off. “Get off of me. I’m fine. I’m always fine.”
“Mm, debatable,” Stiles piped up from where he was leaning against the counter. He was currently picking up different jars of herbs and going through them, and you fought the urge to walk over and slap his hand. “You lose, like, every fight you get into.”
“Shut up,” Derek snarled, baring his teeth at the younger boy.
Suddenly he paused, and the anger leaked from his face. “What happened to that girl?”
“Behind you dude,” Stiles stated, nodding to where you leaned against the wall behind the table.
Derek turned around, blushing as he realized you were staring at him. “Oh.”
“We really need to leave,” Scott told him. “Argent says he found something but he wants all of us together.”
“Can’t it wait?” Derek asked irritably. “I almost got slashed to pieces.”
“Sorry, but no,” Scott told him, shaking his head sadly.
“Fine,” Derek huffed.
He pushed himself off of the table, but he quickly stumbled on his shaky legs. Scott quickly reached out to catch him and Derek mentally cursed himself for almost falling down in front of you. God, you probably thought he was an idiot.
“Those bandages can come off when you’re fully healed,” you advised him. “But not until then. You don’t want those wounds to get infected.”
Derek nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”
You smiled at him and Derek felt his chest constrict. “Of course. It’s what I do.”
Derek nodded and let Scott and Stiles help him out of the clinic, but he hated to turn his back on you. You had just saved his life, but there didn’t seem to be time for a heartfelt speech of gratitude, not with Scott practically dragging him out of the clinic. He wanted to say something like “See you around” or “I’ll catch you later” but before he could come up with something just as stupid, he was being dragged through the door of the exam room.
“Thanks for opening the door, Y/n,” Stiles told you gratefully. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you told him reluctantly. “Just remember that you cheated me out of a date with Netflix. I might not be so forgiving next time.”
“Hey, Derek cheated you out of it,” Stiles pointed out. “And FYI, he cheated me out of one too.”
You watched with pursed lips as Stiles exited the exam room after Scott and Derek. You didn’t know what it was about the former alpha, but you had a feeling you would see him again soon.

The bell on the door of the vet clinic jingled, causing you to let out a sigh. The clinic had been busy all day, bustling with people who needed to get their pets examined or boarded. It was thirty minutes to closing and you found it a little odd that someone was showing up so close to when you normally shut down. It tended to be a lot quieter during that time of night.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” you called out, hustling a large collie into her cage into the kennel area. You pulled a treat out of the pocket of your lab coat and held it out to her before hurrying out of the back room.
“I am so sorry,” you began to apologize as you pushed open the door to the exam room. “I-”
You froze as you walked out into the waiting room, realizing that the person standing there wasn’t someone bringing their pet in at all. Derek Hale was standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he smiled at you.
“Hey,” you said in surprise.
“Hey,” Derek told you. “Uh, is this a bad time?”
“No,” you assured him, causing his quirked eyebrows to fall. “Not at all. I was just finishing up some stuff.”
“So Deaton’s not back yet, huh?” he asked.
You shook your head softly. “No. He didn’t say when he was coming back, which makes me wonder what he was planning on doing in Russia…”
You trailed off, shaking your head softly. “Sorry, I’m just worrying. Uh, is that all you needed?”
“No, actually,” Derek told you. “I wanted to thank you for what you did the other night.”
“Didn’t you already thank me?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.
“Sort of,” he told you. “But not properly. Not the way I wanted to. There was so much going on.”
“Oh,” you said. “Well, I’m glad I could he-”
“Can I take you out on a date?” he asked you suddenly.
“W-what?” you asked, your eyes going wide.
“You saved my life,” Derek stated, honesty in his green eyes. “And you made me laugh, even when I was bleeding to death. I know you’ve got your hands full here, but maybe if you find some time, I could take you out to dinner.”
A grin broke its way onto your face. “You know, when you’re not fighting for your life, I’ll gladly take you up on that.”
“Cool,” Derek said, fighting the smile threatening to pull at his lips. “And uh, Stiles let me know that I cheated the both of you out of a Netflix marathon, so we could do that too. Without him, of course.”
Your grin only widened. “Well, you know where to find me.”
Derek nodded. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
You watched him go, a smile on your face as he pushed open the door to the clinic. The bell jingled once more as his back disappeared from your sight and you began to think that maybe Beacon Hills wasn’t all blood, guts, and danger. Maybe there’s actually something good about this place, you thought happily.
Derek grinned to himself as he walked out of the clinic, unable to contain the nervous excitement that was causing him to bounce on his heels. He couldn’t believe you had actually said yes, mostly because he had been sure you thought he was an idiot. Luckily you had proved him wrong and you were right about what you had said before.  Derek did know where to find you and he would definitely be back.

Title: It can wait.
Pairing: M!Handers (M!Hawke x Anders).
Rating: SFW.

A/N: almost forget it was AndersPositive Week how shameful of me so I decided to write a little thing when it popped into my mind. Also a good reason to get into the habit of writing more handers stuff. I’ll likely try to write one thing a day for AndersPositive Week, they’ll probably be handers or fenders based if I can find appropriate prompts and the life, if not I’ll make up for lost time at some point haha. Without further ado, below the cut is a thing, apologies in advance if there are mistakes. I’ll put it up on AO3 tonight for anyone having trouble reading it on my shitty blog. :)

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Just a Friend

Can you do a Draco x reader(girl,slytherin) Please? Draco and y/n have always been best friends and Draco had crush on her. Y/n is very brave, a typical Slytherin, and VERY sarcastic. Eventually Draco gathers up the courage to ask her, she says yes and you can take their night from there. Thank you!

A/N- Like in my short story, Violet, the italics are the flashbacks. Enjoy!

Haven’t you ever had an attractive friend? Well, any acquaintance of Draco Malfoy could answer the question. Could he offer the same answer? Some would say no. However, Draco Malfoy would answer that questions ten times yes simply because of one girl. 

Y/n L/n.

They met when they were very young. Like….really young. Assume they were babies. Halloweens were spent with the two dressing up extravagantly. His suit would match her gown. Her jewelry would compliment his eyes. It seemed they were a match made in heaven. At least…that’s what Draco thought. His entire childhood was filled to the brim with chasing the young girl through the maze and gardens, or having competitions on who could decorate the best peacock. They spent hours on end playing in his room, transfiguring age old lamps into toy train sets and beds into antique dolls. To say Y/n was Draco’s only friend couldn’t be exaggerating, and it couldn’t be a lie. It only grew once they turned eleven.

Draco! You going to catch me?!’ Her giggles ran down the halls of the manor, each ancestor and grandfather slightly chuckling at the young girl. Her (short/long) h/c hair flew behind her as she raced through the top floor. Finally, when she was just under the grand chandelier of Lucius’ study, she pulled out a wand, pointing it with dignity to the lighting fixture. In a flash, the crystals formed into a wooden ladder leading to the house’s abandoned attic. She crawled up like a spider, her flexible legs carrying her into the darkness. She flicked her wand, elegantly, the chandelier returning as Draco burst into the library. Through a small crack in the wood, she could see the snowy hair creeping across the rug. ‘Y/n? Are you hiding in here?’ He smirked, looking around the bookcases. ‘I know you’re in here, Y/n. You can’t hide forever!’ He crossed his arms, waiting patiently for her sign. After a minute of tapping his foot, he walked to the doors, opening them slowly. As his shoe began to step out of the room, he heard her tiny breath of relief. His eyebrow quirked as he stalked out of the room. Just as Y/n thought it was over, he spun around, jutting his wand towards the chandelier. The ladders formed as he climbed to the attic, following the desperate giggles. He laughed as he looked up, his chest growing with excitement. ‘I found you! I knew I would!’ He smiled as he saw her staring out of a small, circular window, which overlooked the estate. He took a small step back, grinning at her. Her small body was curled into herself, with her soft hair pulled into a silk bow. He began to blush when he thought of how…beautiful… she looked. His mind was flying across her dress. Why was he thinking like this? She was his best friend! She was his only friend. When did she stop having cooties? His thoughts were snapped when he noticed her sniffle. ‘Y/n? Hey, what’s wrong? I’m sorry I caught you. You won, okay? Its okay. I didn’t catch you in time. You’re the winner, I promise!’ She turned her face to him, a small tear dripping. He crawled across the attic floor to her, his slacks dirtying from the dust. ‘Tell me what’s wrong. I said you won.’ She gripped a letter, passing it to him. ‘You got in.’ Draco furrowed his eyebrows. ‘What? What do you mean? Is this a new game?’ She shook her head, pointing to the name in green ink. ‘They want you.’ He peeled open the envelope, eyes widening at the first few words.

Draco Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

He began to smile, until he remembered Y/n. ‘I didn’t get in, Draco. I’m going to have to go to Beauxbaton, and then we won’t see each other anymore, and-’ ‘Hey, hey, hey.’ He bit his lip, grabbing Y/n’s hand and using his other to reach into his coat pocket. He pulled out a crumpled envelope, smiling shyly to her. ‘I found it this morning. I was going to save it for after dinner.’ Her mouth opened in shock before she tackled him to the ground. ‘WE’RE GOING TO HOGWARTS, DRACO!’ He giggled, wrapping his arms around her. ‘WE’RE GOING TO HOGWARTS!’

The two were inseparable. Once the summer began, they practiced potions on the kit Draco got for his birthday, and polished up their quidditch skills until the Bulgarians would shake on their brooms. He couldn’t ask for a better three months. That was until they actually arrived.

The two of them said quick and energetic goodbyes to their families before boarding the train. Their excitement was reciprocated as each student twirled in their robes, bubbling with joy for the impending year. Draco lead Y/n to a cabin on the far side of the train, explaining each section. ‘Here is where the Slytherins sit.’ They began talking, enjoying the view until Y/n left to purchase snacks. He sat by himself for a good time, his curiosity expanding with each minute she was gone. As he made up his mind to search for her, she burst into the cabin, a smile etched on her cheeks and eyes. ‘You will never guess who I just met!’ He shook his head, slightly chuckling. ‘HARRY POTTER!’ He gasped, rushing to her. ‘THE HARRY POTTER! HE’S HERE?!’ She nodded, dragging Draco to the compartment. She slid open the door, smiling down at the glasses and red hair. Draco crossed his arms, doing his best to appear strong. ‘Harry, I would like you to meet my best friend! I’ve told him all about you!’ Harry nodded, waving a hand. ‘My name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.’ ‘Harry. Harry Potter.’ Draco smirked, before turning his gaze toward the friend. ‘I don’t have to guess your name. Red hair..and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley-’ ‘Draco, stop.’ The blonde continued, ignoring the girl. ‘I’m surprised you could afford this candy..or..did Potter have to pay for it all?’ ‘Draco..’ Harry began to become irritated, looking to Y/n for clarification. ‘You should learn that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. I can help you there.’ 

I assume you know how the rest goes. Y/n lost a friend, her loyalty lying with another. Once they reached the castle, their child-like wonderment returned. Both were sorted into Slytherin, their noses proudly pointed up, looking down on all others. During the feast, Y/n caught Harry’s gaze, offering a smile and wave. When he narrowed his eyes, looking away from the evil table, Y/n realized she could never be friends with the good guys.

Over time, Y/n and Draco became close with other Slytherins. Draco could be seen studying with Blaise Zabini, and Y/n could be spotted gossiping with Pansy Parkinson. Sometimes, one would find Theodore Nott conversing with the four, probably planning a scheme to take over the Wizengamot. However, no friendship could rival the dynamic duo of Y/n and Draco. Draco and Y/n. That was the problem.

Blaise was writing in his notebook, studying for a mild Charms exam while Draco and Theo discussed the Yule Ball. ‘So, Draco. Got your eye on any of them French girls? I think I’m gonna take Fleur.’ Blaise chuckled, smirking up at the raven haired serpent. ‘Come on, Theo. The day you take Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball is the day I grow a beard and call myself Dumbledore.’ Draco nodded, laughing slightly. ‘Well, who are you going to ask, Mr. Zabini?’ Blaise rolled his eyes, scrawling across the parchment. ‘Oh, come on, Theo. Haven’t you known Blaise had a thing for Parkinson?’ Theo gasped, looking to Zabini for confirmation. ‘You-You and…Pansy?’ Blaise huffed, snapping his book closed. ‘Yes, you idiot. I’m going to ask her tomorrow.’ The boys whooped and hollered, clapping Blaise on the back. ‘Well, Draco. You still haven’t answered. Who are you taking?’ He scratched his knee, avoiding eye contact while he answered. ‘I..um..I don’t like anyone.’ ‘Well, sure you do. Those French are pretty hot!’ ‘I don’t like any of them.’ Theo narrowed his eyes, utter confusion filling him. ‘Well, are you going to ask a Hogwarts girl?’ Draco swallowed, nervously picking at a loose string. ‘I think..um..I think I’m just gonna ask a friend.’ Blaise and Theo nodded, leaving the subject alone, and leaving Draco to his thoughts.

It seems like he would play it off cool, right? That he would ask her to the ball and all would be well? Bippity boppity boo? Well, that’s not the case, and only one person knew it. 

Luna Lovegood.

Draco walked down the hall to the Divination room, dreading the next hour. He heard a light step behind him, thinking it was her. ‘Y/n?’ Instead, he was met with a blue tie, and internally (and externally) groaned. ‘What do you want, Lovegood?’ ‘Its nice to see you, too, Draco. How’s your head?’ He sighed, ‘Fine.’ ‘Well, have you asked Y/n to the Ball, yet?’ He stopped in his tracks, abruptly, staring at her in disbelief. ‘I-I..how did you-’ ‘Its quite obvious, isn’t it? You give her all your attention; you drop everything you’re doing to be around her. You are always there when she needs you, and you look at her as if she’s the only person in the room. You might not know it, but you’ve loved her since you met, haven’t you?’ He pushed Luna against the stone walls, growling as he gripped her robes into his fists. ‘Who told you?! Was it Potter?! Did he trick you into doing this?!’ Luna shook her head. ‘No. Although, Harry would be a petty guess. He can’t observe his surroundings if they smacked him on the head.’ Draco sneered, letting go of her clothes, slowly. ‘What do you want?’ ‘Pardon?’ ‘What do you want in return for your silence? Money? Do you want homework? A test?’ ‘Draco, I-’ ‘What do you want?!’ Luna shook her head, giving a ghostly smile. ‘Nothing, really. I just thought you should know your own feelings before you realized she’s going with Thomas Inkwell.’ Before she could realize what was going on, Draco darted across the empty corridor, forgetting of his class and rushing to his love.

Are you disappointed? No, Draco did not take Y/n to the Ball. In fact, he didn’t take anyone. He bought four Weasley treats, eating them as fast as he could to be sick in time for the evening. He was utterly surprised to find he wasn’t alone.

Draco groaned as he held his stomach, rolling into the sheets. There were red specks all over his face, and his insides were churning with each breath he took. It was nine at night, and the only person in the hospital wing was himself and his demons. As he began to drift to sleep, a dark emerald figure appeared in the doorway, rushing to his bedside. ‘Draco? Are you awake?’ He rolled his head over, looking up at an angel. ‘Y/n? Why aren’t you at the ball?’ She smirked, pulling up a chair. ‘Dances are stupid. I told Thomas I was done and needed to be somewhere important.’ Draco smiled, sleepily, watching her figure illuminated through the window. It reminded him of their childhood days. ‘Y/n?’ ‘Hmm.’ She smiled down at him, petting his sweaty hair. ‘You know I’m in love with you?’ Her hand stopped. Draco figured if he was dreaming, he had nothing to lose. It would all be over in the morning. ‘I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old. I’ve been obsessed with you, really. I mean…you’re intelligent, witty…stunning…I really couldn’t pick a better crush.’ She nibbled her lip, not caring an inch about her lipstick. ‘And..you know..I never said anything. I never once told you about my feelings because you’re my bestest friend.’ She chuckled at his delusional state, figuring he was hopped up on whatever drug Pomfrey poured down his throat. ‘Y/n, I have dreamed about kissing you since the day we received our Hogwarts letters. And, you know, I really wanted to take you to the ball. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough.’ Y/n smiled, running a hand through his hair and taking his hand. ‘The ball isn’t over, Draco.’ She leant over his mattress, pecking his cheek. Even though his face was red, his cheeks became strawberry. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, playing with his bony fingers. ‘What do you say, Draco, if you and I go to Hogsmeade this weekend? You know, like a date?’ Draco giggled, nodding with amusement. ‘Yeah, sure. I’ll believe you. But, when I wake up, I promise things won’t be awkward and I’ll pretend you never pretended.’ She frowned, slightly, figuring out his thoughts. ‘You’re awake, Draco.’ He snorted, ‘Right. The day you like me back is the day I grow a beard and call myself Dumbledore.’

At the beginning of his life, Draco could positively answer that he had an attractive friend. When he woke up that next morning, he couldn’t say whether or not she were still just a friend.

a/n: I wrote this back in November and at the time I intended it to be longer but I like it as is and I don’t want to ruin that so I’m going to post it now (i may regret this decision so there may be a second part to this). It was lowkey inspired by There Is by Box Car Racer. Feedback is cool if you’re so inclined :-)  wc: 1010 / masterlist

“Babe, I’m hungry,” Luke’s voice was a shallow whine in your ear, gruff from the nap he was not long awake from. “Let’s get food, forget about that.” He leaned down to nudge his nose against your jaw, trying to distract you from the roughly folded pages you’d found among the mess of clothes in his suitcase, your name clearly printed in the corner.

His teeth fiddled with the black loop curving through the pink of his bottom lip, an exaggerated sigh huffing between his lips while you read. The loose grip of your fingers between his tightened and you lifted your joined palms to drop them back against his chest, “Shh, don’t distract me.”

“You really don’t have to read it…” He trailed off, glancing at you when you rolled your head to the side to look at him; lopsided smile sitting nervously on his face obstructed by his teeth hard against his bottom lip.

“Luke,” Your voice was stern but your eyes soft, ruining the toughness you were trying to exude. “Just shut up and let me finish.”

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My OC's react to Overwatch's official character designs

no one asked for this but here you go. This took two hours and since I myself know nothing about the characters I had a load of fun!


Laura: “Oh, wow…she’s so…colorful! How does she get her hair to stay up like that?”

Samuel: “The lack of armor between her elbows and on her neck is troubling. I could slice her head clean off.”

Heather: “…My, but she is long-legged. Should I be concerned about the lack of weight distribution betwixt her calves and ankles? I believe that requires healing.”

Isabelle: “I like her style.”

Felix: “…Damn. Does she have to wear straps down there? Not that I’m complaining.”

Trent: “Is this woman wearing a cannon on her chest. And why do her trousers bear her name? …I am concerned on a number of levels.”


Laura: “Those big guns…um…are the claws and spikes on his wrists really necessary…?”

Samuel: “Ah…p-pardon me…I just…” *snorts* “The cape…”

Heather: “Oh goodness. It appears Death is awake and didn’t get his morning kiss.”

Isabelle: “Wow. His face must be angular as all get out. I bet he’s poked an eye out with his chin.”

Felix: “Heh…nice weapons. You compensatin’ for somethin’ under those ammo holsters?”

Trent: “…Oh, mercy. This poor gentleman. Getting up after falling must be quite the ordeal.”


Laura: “…Gracious…w-why are her arms and legs protected, but not the entirety of her waist? …Such a long waist, too…”

Samuel: “Again with the awkward armor distribution…one slice down her chest and she’s as good as dead. Though I have to wonder why her skin is tinted blue.”

Heather: “…My. You may want to protect that chest of yours, dear. Using your weapon for such means is a poor idea, because a gun can only point one way.”

Isabelle: “Hon, if you want people to stop staring, maybe put on a coat? Or maybe she just likes looking bitchy.”

Felix: “…She can make herself into my widow anytime.”

Trent: “I-I’m not looking!”


Laura: “…Oh, gracious me. Is that an ape? It’s an ape! Named Winston! WINSTON!”

Samuel: “…They claim that the intelligence of the ape family is vast. It is now so vast that I am concerned for humanity.”

Heather: “That poor thing looks so…mad. Of course, I would be as well if I had what looks to be ten pounds of armor burdened upon my whole body.”

Isabelle: “…It’s wearing glasses. And it’s name is Winston. Someone get this poor thing a glass of wine.”

Felix: “Fuck. I’d be mad too if my name was Winston. Holy shit.”

Trent: “Someone save him.”


Laura: “…What lovely lips she has. Er, how does she see?”

Samuel: “Now THAT. That is armor. Bless this woman. Also…I’m frightened.”

Heather: “Oh.”

Isabelle: “That’s a…missile launcher? I’m sorry. I have to go. Right no-”

Felix: “Under that…baffling armor. Wow. I bet she couldn’t dodge my missile…”

Trent: “…I like this woman. She has a working mind.”


Laura: “…Really, I don’t have much to say…um…he must be…big?”

Samuel: “…I feel that if this man got so much as a paper cut that he would be calling on God.”

Heather: “For some reason, I fear for this man’s self-esteem.”

Isabelle: “…Wow. He must have trouble entering buildings…”

Felix: “…Shit. Is this guy and Pharah related?”

Trent: “…God is a creator, not a copier.”


Laura: “She’s beautiful! But why are all of these guns so odd…?”

Samuel: “Step one: chop off the right leg. Step two: the left. Three: stab the throat. Victory.”

Heather: “…Curious. Can she bend matter? Is she perhaps casting a bodily illusion as well?”

Isabelle: “I like her style. You got it, you flaunt it.”

Felix: “…Shit. None of these women have armor. Which concerns me. But also, as a man, I-”

Trent: “If this woman does not kick in fights, then I am sorely disappointed by the waste of resources.”


Laura: “Oh! He has a claw…how nice. It must be easy to grab things! Does he braid his own beard or does someone else do it…? Like Pharah!”

Samuel: “He must have stories to tell. But again, I ask: WHY ARE VITAL LIMBS UNPROTECTED?!”

Heather: “I’d quite like to hug this man.”

Isabelle: “Aww! He looks so mad. Do you think his girlfriend left him?”

Felix: “…Hello, height complex.”

Trent: “…Mm. I think a smile would suit him best. It must be a rare sight.”


Laura: “Ah! How sweet! B-But why is someone so kind fighting? …It’s a robot? …Oh…”

Samuel: “Machine or no, fighting ones are only as good as their makers.”

Heather: “I was wondering when an actual machine would appear. I am…oddly…not impressed.”

Isabelle: “It’s a robot. Well, okay.”

Felix: *snorts*

Trent: “…Isn’t sending a machine into battle at bit…cowardly?”


Laura: “Ah…how handsome. Though perhaps he should do something about that stray hair.”

Samuel: “I…his che- …I…excuse me, I must go. Preferably to stab something.”

Heather: “A bowman? Hm. With a hair tie that long, he is asking to be shot should there be wind.”

Isabelle: “Ooh. Rock that ink, pal. Though red may color it if you don’t cover it.”

Felix: “…Let me guess. His brother died.”

Trent: “He must be fun at parties. Quite fun.”


Laura: “Ah! What beautiful wings! But she…reminds me of…”

Samuel: “At last, a medic! A flying medic! I was worried for this team.”

Heather: “…My, but we appear similar. At least I know now that I can look fine in orange…”

Isabelle: “I feel like she never hears a thank you. You keep goin’, girl.”

Felix: “Mercy. Indeed.”

Trent: “…I pray this woman stays safe.”


Laura: “…Ah. How creative! …But…how did they program beliefs?”

Samuel: “…May I pass on this?”

Heather: “Mm. Curious. How does this…robot…fight?”

Isabelle: “Aww. It looks so cute! Is he that one guy that gives all the pep talks?”

Felix: “…Okay.”

Trent: “A warrior monk. Well, there is also an armored ape. I wonder what else exists.”


Laura: “…Doesn’t this seem redundant? A robot…ninja?”

Samuel: “No one speak to me. I am enraged.”

Heather: “Hee. They gave him cloth for hair. How charming…”

Isabelle: “This is the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.”

Felix: “My sword matches my body in color. Fuck all of you.”

Trent: “I…my last statement. I must add ‘robotic swordsman’ to it.”


Laura: “G-Gracious…that looks like fun to pilot…”

Samuel: “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

Heather: “…For something she must have spent a lifetime working on…it looks simple to destroy.”

Isabelle: “…Shoot. Even I could easily get rid of her.”

Felix: “Pink, eh? Heh. She must know how to have fun…go big or go home.”

Trent: “Hm. No offense to this woman, but…if she runs out of fuel, God save her.”


Laura: “…His hair is on fire! H-He looks…oh, my.”

Samuel: “Hm. He must have a death wish.”

Heather: “…Gracious. The day this man settles down is a day the earth will sit still.”

Isabelle: “Sorry.” *snorts* “I-I…he’s having fun…”

Felix: “Shit, I could use his leg as a chopstick. Jesus man, drink your milk…”

Trent: *smirking* “Excuse me…I…” *starts laughing* “I’m amazed he hasn’t died.”


Laura: “What a nice smile! I want to make him smile more!”

Samuel: “…The lack of proper armor is going to make me stab myself. Careful, don’t hold that hand out long- it will be chopped off.”

Heather: “…How charming. Do you suppose he does everything with a smile?”

Isabelle: “Darn. I like this guy. Let’s hope he can last…”

Felix: “…What’s with the excessive leg armor? Is he terrified of losing them and not his arms? His arms can just go fuck off? If he lost both legs he might lose his will to live.”

Trent: “…Those are the oddest hair decorations I have ever seen. How does he put them on? Remove them? They look like rubber bottle caps…”


Laura: “…Why does his belt say BAMF? What does that mean? Be Afraid of My…Firepower? Fist? Fedora? Friends? Fa-”

Samuel: “…I am done with this. This man’s arm should be a stump. This is not possible. I am so angry. I want to kill someone. I want to fight this man and kill him. Right no-”

Heather: “…Is his torso robotic? Then…is his…oh, my.”

Isabelle: “Lotsa robot limbs in this group. …Is his horse robotic? Because a robot horse would be badass.”

Felix: “…Is his gun compensating for something?”

Trent: “…If your society has such advancements as robotic limbs…guns are obsolete, friend.”


Laura: “…Ah, how adorable! I don’t even mind her shooting me!”

Samuel: “…Beware the nice ones.”

Heather: “She even has snowshoes. Though I cannot speak for their effectiveness in battle.”

Isabelle: “…Aww. Go kick ass, honey. Have fun!”

Felix: “…Heh. What a cutie. I wouldn’t mind making her feel warm…”

Trent: “For her sake, I hope she does not suffer from heat stroke.”


Laura: “O-Oh my goodness…a hug from him must be quite something.”

Samuel: “…I will say nothing at all. Please, go on.”

Heather: “…Roads are most likely not the only things he hogs.”

Isabelle: “Step one: bring home the bacon. Step two…share it.”

Felix: “I bet this guy has the most innocent fucking face under that mask.”

Trent: “…Good grief. I certainly don’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever punishment he gives.”

Soldier 76-

Laura: “How…normal looking. Do you suppose he enjoys a good chat?”

Samuel: “He looks pleasant, oddly. And…is his hair white? Ah, an older fellow! …He must be sturdy.”

Heather: “No comment.”

Isabelle: “Did he choose the name Soldier 76 to add intrigue? He kinda needs some.”

Felix: “He reminds me of my father…”

Trent: “A veteran…what a brave soul.”


Laura: “Oh, she’s so pretty! And strong! Look at her! How pretty!”

Samuel: “…Can I get drinks with this woman?”

Heather: “Oh my. I feel we may be fast friends.”

Isabelle: “Woo! Look at this girl. Hell yeah. I feel great just looking at her.”

Felix: “Oh, fuck yeah.”

Trent: “Well. I think this lady can handle herself.”

As a congratulations to everyone in the Sterek fandom for winning the Backlot poll, I decided to make a SUPPPPER long fic rec list full of random fics. Some old, some new, but all of them are amazing! So behold, a huge ass list that puts Tyler Hoechlin’s booty to shame. (JK, his butt is the greatest thing on this earth… besides Pizza.)

Stardust (WIP: 1/?: Teen)

This is the story about how Stiles Stilinski becomes a man.
A much greater challenge altogether, for to achieve it –
he must win the heart of his one, true love.

Babcia Knows Best (one shot: 11,887: Teen)

Stiles takes his grandmother to bingo every Thursday. Now there’s a new guy calling out the numbers, and his grandmother has decided to set them up.

Beauty and the Ex (one shot: 26,313: Mature)

Stiles doesn’t want to screw up his chances with Josh, so he does something he may regret: he goes to Derek Hale, Josh’s intimidating ex-boyfriend, for dating advice.

Things don’t go according to plan. But with a little magic (and werewolves) they might go all right.

Incantation Ink (Series: 30,042: Explicit) 

The tattoo parlor didn’t look like much. The apprentice who was supposed to be inking Derek’s new magical tattoo wasn’t immediately confidence-inspiring either.

To Navigate your Seas (one shot: 26,010: Explicit)

Derek is a beach bum/surfer; Stiles is his new neighbor. Feels ensue.

Talk Geeky to Me (one shot: 19,873: Explicit)

The five times Derek and Stiles “fake” kiss and one time they take things further.

Professional Werewolf Witch (one shot: 5,134: General)

“Are you going to buy anything else?” Professional Eyebrows says and Stiles would like to buy him. A cup of coffee. On a date.

He just ends up pointing at the crate of whatever the fuck is behind Professional Eyebrows’ head and says, “Uh, a box of that stuff.”

P.E. turns glances at the crate and raises an eyebrow at Stiles. “You want a box of charmed rattlesnake tail?” God, magic is so fucking weird.

“Yeah.” Stiles nods because he’s making an ass out of himself. The hipster vampire browsing in the corner is not so subtly laughing at him. The sooner he leaves the better.

That’s Why He Lets Him In (Series: 12,443: Explicit)

Stiles watches him for a long beat before responding, taking in the sharp lines of his bearded jaw and the strong tendons of his neck that lead down to the soft, dark chest hair peeking out of his dark green v-neck. 

“Did you want something,” he asks, voice whiskey-dark, watching how Derek’s eyes fall to his mouth as he speaks.

“Yeah,” Derek whispers throatily, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Yeah, Stiles, I want something.”

CSI: Beacon Hills(one shot: 8,243: Teen)

Back when Stiles was in high school Beacon Hills didn’t have a crime lab, because they simply didn’t need one. Those were the days.

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anonymous asked:

For those of us out there who were completely wrecked by giantkiller and now have nothing more to do as we wait but draw fanart, could you do a quick recap of the character's physical appearances (height, skin/eye/hair colour, etc.) as well as any distinguishing features or clothing preferences or anything really, esp stuff that you have bouncing around in your head but haven't found a spot to put in the books?

Two things first: 

a) I am not very visual at all, also I’m face blind, so it’s completely likely that I, the author, will give you imperfect answers here and/or the books themselves will be imperfect. I’ve done my best, my friendly betas have done their best, but, well… appearances aren’t my strong point. I’m more into magical systems and also making readers cry. 

b) I think fan head canons are great and wonderful things and if y'all wanna make up your own visuals for these characters, go ahead.* I don’t quite give enough detail in the books anyway for there to be a strongly nailed down canonical visual for everyone.

Here are the things I do know, and which (mostly) appear in text:

Jack Farris is very very tall, with narrow shoulders– so not that intimidating despite being tall. A beanstalk :) Brown-skinned, brick-colored hair, brown eyes. Good smile. I head canon him as Latino, but this is a fantasy realm so like… you can’t really specify that exactly. 

Laney Jones is a bit shorter than Jack, but still taller than average. She’s tall for her family too by the way–her big brother Liam is shorter than her. Liam btw looks in my head a bit like Sinqua Walls. She’s got dark brown skin and brown hair and brown eyes. I believe I described her face as heart-shaped at one point. She wears extensive thread bracelets and anklets. Her hair is often braided– one big braid or, as the series continues, more often it’s a coronet braid around her head. I keep trying to have a head canon actress fit her and failing.

Sanders Grey is described almost solely by his long ink-stained fingers, his ink-stained (and I think snub?) nose, and his messy dark hair. His skin is pale– I head canon him as Asian (hapa, actually, his mom’s white) but that’s not stated anywhere in the text explicitly enough for me to claim it I think. Author head canon I guess. His big sister tends to look like Dichen Lachman (with her dark hair) to me, though occasionally I slip up and she looks like a young Lucy Liu instead. Can you blame me? I mean, Lucy Liu.

Rupert W. J. Hammerseld VII is an inch or so shorter than Laney. Grey’s by far the shortest of the four. He’s a bit darker than Jack, lighter than Laney. He’s very precise in his movements and in what he wears. He relaxes more among friends, especially Bart and Sez who knew him when he was a gangly kiddo. He’s got dark hair (brown) cropped short. If he lets it grow out it gets fluffy. A long face with apparent bone structure–I think “horsey” might be the term for it, but that seems rude? Don’t be rude to Rupert. He’s a sweetie.

The girl with golden curls has *gasp* golden curls. Really thin wispy stuff. They’re about two inches long and sort of floaty. If you’re doing flashbacks with her, a) her hair is in a waist length braid and b) Jack was shorter than she was back then. She’s slightly taller than Grey now and does not grow any between flashbacks and canon present day. I believe her skin tone is described as “as pale as Gloria but much less pink.”

Gloria, for reference, is our local white blushing-cheeked blonde. Her family immigrated from the far far northeast a few generations back. She’s a born and bred Rivertown local. A slight majority of Rivertown’s population looks like Rupert (see: his Uncle, Sez, etc). Sez has colorful braided and knotted strings and strips of cloth and also some thin wire up and down her arms, around her belt loops– they’re her way of taking notes. 

Sally-Anne, a many-many-generations Rivertown local, is Black with chin length frizzy brown hair usually under a red handkerchief. Bart, like Red, is from the coast which like the mountains I head canon as Asian (the coast erring toward being darker skinned, and the mountains more eastern Russia. But like go crazy, kids, I’m not married to these details* and my world has a lot of intermingling between the different subregions of the continent).

Leaf’s short, solid, and smiley. He’s from the same area of the world as Jack’s mom– I head canon him as Latino, but you head canon him as however you imagine Jack, I guess? Other people hmm… I don’t have anything much for Heather. Long brown braid. That’s all I know. Weeds is weedy.

Bea is a bit tall (shorter than Jack/Laney/Rupert but taller than Grey), pale brown skinned, straight dark hair– she often also ends up looking like Dichen Lachman in my head, because she and Grey’s sister are mirrors of each other and my brain does that to me. Bidi is six-going-on-seven with curly, fluffy dark hair often kept in a cascade of small braids. She’s got dark brown skin though not as dark as Laney. She’s not going to grow up to be very tall.

John is a half-ogre of a man– large, hulking, and green-tinged the way Sez is purple-tinged. He’s less “passing” as a half monster than Sez is– his skin is rough and sort of cracked, like tree trunks or mossy old stones. The majority of the time he does not use his bulk to intimidate– he’s more likely to be fixing things, worrying about sanitation, or burping babies. I love this kid.

Rose and Susie look similar in their face shape– round, flat cheekbones– but Susie’s paler in both hair and skin (“faded brown” I think was the term), whereas Rose is a darker brown with dark hair, both because that’s just generally true of their phenotypes but also Rose spends a lot more time in the sun than Susie. She’s also sorta lean and whip-cord tough; Susie’s softer.

The Rangers… May is small. Oh gosh, one of them is skinny, Black, and bald but I can’t remember if it’s Yuri the guide or the sage… I think it’s the sage. Sarge is grizzled with a bit of a iron-grey short-trimmed beard and square-shouldered. Flash has a lot of sharp lines to him– sharp chin, pointy nose, cheekbones. I don’t particularly know anything more about these kids, so headcanon in as you will.

Other people?? Did I forget anyone?

Oh, Mr. Thorne I guess. Medium-height, lean, neither strong looking nor frail seeming. Gold-wire spectacles. Clean shaven except when pretending not be himself. Very straight posture. Nicely made, expensive clothes. Polished but practical boots because he fancies himself a man of action.

*Though of course if your ‘personal head canon’ is everyone is white? You’re doing it wrong.

anonymous asked:

number 4 and fruk?

AU France/England and pet names. This wandered slightly off topic and straight into a pile of sappy goop. (Iain would be OC!Scotland in this, not that he’s terribly important.)

Francis has always had names for Arthur. It starts when they are small – and Arthur is smaller, a grubby-nosed wide-eyed child toddling around at the periphery of Francis’ life the way younger siblings of school friends seem to do. He walks into his brother Iain’s room (straight over the maths homework Francis had been doing on the floor, smudging pencil and ink with his feet) often enough to demand attention from said brother when Francis is there, scowling rather fiercely at Francis when his sibling rebuffs him because he is busy, runt; go away. As though homework and being a little brother is Francis’  fault.

Mon petit, Francis laughs and calls him then, on the days both of them are in better moods, mon trésor. Francis’ own little sister has no desire of his attention, so a needy younger child is a novelty for the few hours he is at Iain’s house on the weekends or after school.

Arthur screws up his little nose about it but soaks up the attention all the same, brief hugs or kisses on the cheek (when his face is clean), frequent pats on the head. He trails around after Francis like a lost duckling when Francis leaves Iain’s room to get things from the kitchen, and very occasionally brings Francis ‘precious things’ to see: pretty stones he had found in the garden, a flower his mother had cut but dropped, a magpie’s feather, his favourite book.

When he is in a good mood, the procession of special things to see is a delight to Francis. But Francis is not always in a good mood. School and home life make him cranky, hormones, arguments with friends. Some days dealing with a toddler is tiresome, and he brushes Arthur off.

Arthur gets cross, those days, and calls him a legion of childish insults, but most particularly: frog. (After an incident with a scary goose who lives the pond in the nearest park, Iain tiredly explains, Arthur is not so keen on frogs.) On the days the little boy is feeling particularly impudent, it elevates to stupid frog.

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