gravy drop

40k pet peeve of the morning: vehicles with transport capacities of 5 or 10 instead of 6 or 12.

Fuck you I wanna put a full squad AND an HQ in there you fucks how else are my officers supposed to do their fucking JOB?!

Eva x Chris. Pretend.

Hey guys, hope you enjoy this little fic. 

Also, the embarrassing baby story is actually something I used to do and my dad tells everyone -.-


“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” Eva’s voice cuts through the phone.

“What?” comes Chris’ steady reply, already amused at the situation at hand.

“My mum is upstairs making dinner right now,” Eva’s voice is nervous as she rambles on, “I don’t know how it happened. I told her last time that Jonas wanted to meet her properly. And now she thinks he’s coming over for dinner. And I don’t know how to tell her we’ve broken up-”

“Eva, breath.”

“- I’m really sorry but I don’t know who else to call. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. It’s just she insisted and then started making dinner before I could even tell her-”

He starts laughing hysterically which causes Eva to stop talking.

“I have no idea what so say. I mean I’ll do it and I’m sure we can come up with some way you can repay me,” his tone is suggestive which causes Eva to roll her eyes, not that he can see. He continues, “besides, it’ll be funny and I’ll get to meet your mother. Is she also beautiful?”

“Just be here for 6. And remember, your name is Jonas now,” she replies coolly before hanging up the phone. For some reason, Chris cannot wait and begins to get ready immediately.

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Eleven ominous signs

1. You come home to find a single drop of gravy leaking through your letterbox and your key will not fit
2. Cats come up to you with sorrow in their big green eyes
3. You have had more than one wrong-number phone call from the Vatican basement, from those payphones near the statues, and there is some kind of grinding noise in the background but it is hard to hear over the Spanish-accented clarifications of the woman on the other end
4. You begin to receive vague but apologetic letters with postmarks from the near future
5. The pipes knock at night in something that is almost Morse Code, save for the addition of a mid-length, rattly noise like the coughing of a rat
6. You notice a door that you have never seen before and that is curiously hard to forget
7. A senior librarian comes to your door to absolve you, without asking, of a number of library fines relating to highly unusual books that you have never, to your knowledge, checked out
8. Whenever you turn round there is a blackbird flying away
9. There is a ringing phone in the gutter down the road, and a large man in sunglasses who is trying to pretend that it is not there
10. You cannot remember if you have ever been in a hailstorm, and neither can anyone you ask
11. There was a will from a relative you never really knew about, in a part of the world you’d never heard of, and it bequeathed you a box that cannot be opened and, once opened, cannot be closed

#4 Dinner

Fred is having a hard time focusing on dinner because he can’t stop staring at Hermione.

Dinner was always great at the burrow. Molly made delicious food, there was good company, it was loud, warm, and homey. But today, only a few minutes into the meal, Fred was in hell.

He couldn’t stop staring at her.

Fred had developed a crush on Hermione a few months back, near the end of the school year. He didn’t think much of it though, he had had fleeting little crushes on tons of girls at school. When the summer break rolled around, Fred thought that the crush would go away, and it did a little. He thought about her less, he could hear had name without blushing, but it never went away fully. And then she came back into his life to stay at the burrow for the last week of summer. Bollocks.

She was more beautiful then ever, and where ever he went there she was. He tried to brush his teeth, she was there combing her damp hair after a shower. He tried to play chess in the living room, she was there reading. He went outside to play quidditch, she was outside watching Harry, Ron, and Ginny zip around. She was starting to make him loose sleep, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

And now she was sitting across from him at the dinner table listening to one of Charlie’s stories. Fred studied her face. The deep chocolate of her eyes showed such emotion and thought. Her long, thick eyelashes blinked elegantly almost in slow motion. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a perfect waterfall of soft curls. Her lips were slightly parted and…

Fred snapped his eyes back onto his plate. ‘That’s enough, think about something else,’ he thought. Fred glared at his potatoes as he searched for something, anything else he could think of. Something that couldn’t possibly make him think of Hermione. 'Snape! That’s it, Snape! Snape. Snape. Snape’s hair. Snape’s robes, Snape’s voice, Snape’s classroom. The potions room. Chalkboards. Ingredients. Cauldrons. Recipe books. Books. Reading. Hermione reading. Hermione. DAMN!’

“George dear, are you alright?” His mothers voice pulled Fred from his thoughts. The table had gone quiet as everyone looked between him and his identical twin seated to his left.

“I’m good.” George told their mother “Why?”

“Oh I’m sorry George, I meant Fred.” Molly replied. Everyone’s gaze shifted soley to him.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Fred told her, though his voice came out strained.

“You sure Freddie?” George questioned him, “you look a little flushed.”

“I’m sure!” Fred insisted. The table stayed quiet for a few moments more and Fred glued his eyes back onto his plate.

“So how about a game of quiddich after dinner?” Ginny suggested to the table. It didn’t take half a second for the rest of the table to get into a heated argument over positions and teams.

Fred glanced back up from his plate.

Hermione was listening to the others with an amused expression. She distractedly licked at her lips, catching a drop of gravy.

Fred’s cheeks burned.

'Gravy is not sexy!’ He yelled in his mind. 'You are not allowed to find a girl licking gravy off of her lips sexy!’ He ran his hands roughly through his hair in frustration.

And then she looked up. The moment Hermione caught his eye, Fred wished he had never been born. He was sure he was bright red, his hair was probably sticking in every which direction, and his eyes were wide in surprise and fear.

Hermione tilted her head and narrowed her eyes slightly, studying him curiously. Fred was absolutely positive she was about to figure him out.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked him, looking concerned, as the others continued to argue. “You look terrible…” She continued, making Fred’s heart sink a little. “I.. I mean..” Hermione stuttered, fidgeting with her fork. “Not terrible, you don’t look bad! I just meant… I mean you always look great! Er… I don’t… I just mean……..” Now it was Hermione’s turn to burn red and stare at her plate.

Fred beamed with relief and joy. “I’m feeling absolutely marvellous Hermione. Thank you for your concern.”

Hermione nodded and gave a small nervous smile, not meeting his gaze. “Good. That’s good.”

“Although, I don’t think I’m quite up to a game of quidditch. I might just watch with you tonight.” Fred told her in what he hoped was a casual tone.

She looked up at him and the two stared into the others eyes. For a few moments, Hermione’s face was unreadable, but her mind was clearly working quickly.

Fred was about to panic and abort mission when a shy smile crept across Hermione’s face. “Yeah, that’d be fun.”

I’m giving myself the feels! I am so sorry how long this took, I’m back at school and guys… Grade 12 is a lot of work… If only I could hand in fanfics instead of essays. As always, let me know what you liked and disliked about this, or any suggestions you have for future fics, I would love to hear your ideas and help bring them to life (sorta). Until next time, Kisses!

I accidentally a thing again.

A long thing. Curse thee, fan art and alcohol! And antibiotics! AND EFFIN PIANO MUSIC! *shakes fist* And there’s not enough Iorweth in my life now, so…
Could be loosely tied to this, but works also as a standalone thingy. Huh? Of course it’s nsfw, what kind of question is that?! Fluff? What is fluff? Oooh, it’s that thing that breaks your heart even if you just think about it? No? Well what the frack, I was wrong my whole life 8D
I NEEDED FEELS, OK??? Hence why it’s out of character as fuck, probably, but hey, we all know it would never happen anyway, so what am I even talking about? *screams internally* It hurts :’D
You see any errors, note me. I’ll repay you with cupcakes. Really. Frosting and all. And maybe chocolate chunks. Or cinnamon :B
Also, anyone got an idea for a title? Cause my mind is blank. Does it even need a title?

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Writing Check-In: Bearskin and Gold (a belated Christmas treat)

I was hoping to finish and post this at Christmas as a little fairytale treat, but life is not obliging (in any way whatsoever). :( So here’s an excerpt, in case anyone would like a little Marko/Prim squee for their post-holiday doldrums. (I know this isn’t what you guys really want, and God willing, I hope to post another excerpt of that for you in the near future.)


Once upon a time there were Three Bears who lived together in a house of their own, in a wood… One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling… And while they were walking, a little Girl named Goldilocks came to the house.
~ Joseph Jacobs, “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”

I came to the cottage unwitting and seeking no more than shelter.

The day began like any other. Katniss made for the heart of the woods with her bow, knife, and game satchel and I went to the lakeshore with Mother’s largest rush-basket, but no sooner was I muddied to the knees from stirring up two days’ portion of my sister’s namesake from the lake bottom when a bitter wind struck, and a frigid rain hard at its heels. My harvest was scarcely begun and I wished not to make the trek home till I had finished, especially while my resilient sister remained in the woods. Katniss would hunt and gather in the cruelest of weather to bring food to our table, and while she never expected the same stamina of me, I knew she would worry if she returned to the lake to find me gone.

I meant only to seek a broad tree beneath which I might shelter till the worst of the storm had passed, but when I turned my steps toward the woods  I saw before me a cottage that had surely not stood there an hour before, let alone a day or two previous. This wild place became market and garden for my family in the days of my huntress grandmother Ashpet and I myself gathered daily from it in my turn, harvesting from both lake and woodland shadows since I stood no taller than my father’s knee, and never before had I seen a human dwelling in these parts, nor heard of any such.

I peered through the blinding rain at what could only be the wishful construct of a shivering body coupled with a desperate imagination and squeezed my eyes shut again and again to clear them of such impossible fancies, but the cottage seemed only to grow more solid and radiant and welcoming with each blink. From its round windows streamed rich yellow light and from its chimneys pale smoke, and this was enticement enough for me. A mere quarter-hour beside one of those fires would be sufficient to warm my toes and lift the damp from my cloak, I thought, and perhaps the cottager’s sympathy would extend to a fortifying mug of wild onion broth with a little acorn bun or even a draught of hot berry-wine before they sent me on my way.

None came in answer to my knock, and as the rain beat against my back in barbed pellets of ice I forsook propriety and reached hopefully for the latch. To my surprise, it lifted without effort. The door gave at once beneath my touch, almost as though I were expected, and opened inward to reveal a very heaven of domesticity; all broad oak timbers and rounded stone, warm and bright as gold, where the very air tasted of honey and woodsmoke and freshly baked bread.

I crossed the threshold without hesitation and drew the door fast behind me.

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Harry and Louis are probably so cute when they cook together. They’re preparing a meal for when they’re families come over for a little get together and Harry will handle all the pots and pans cause Louis has a tendency to burn things a little too much, but Louis’ fine with handling the cutting and preparing, and Harry will let him know he’s doing a great job with the whisking and Louis will be like, “well I did learn from the best..” and it always makes Harry light up, so he pulls Louis in by the waist to kiss him and Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck to deepen the kiss, but he’s still holding the whisk and some of the gravy he was making drops onto Harry’s shirt but he couldn’t care less cause he has his boy in his arms, and eventually the sound of the oven going off makes them pull apart, dazed and Louis will move in for one last kiss before whispering “c'mon chef, we’ve got an army to feed” and they both giggle as they finish making their meal, dancing around the kitchen, feeding each other to taste-test, and if they’re family walks in while they’re in the middle of a mini food fight, well, it wouldn’t be the first time