here is the other one lol

Owl post - Part 2

Part 1

Harry shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, while looking at a dumbfounded Malfoy. Maybe he should have thought this whole thing through first. He apparated over here without even thinking of how he would explain to Malfoy what he’s doing here, how he even knows where Malfoy lives. There’s no way he can tell him he followed his owl one day, not being able to contain his curiosity any longer. It’s a wonder Malfoy didn’t spot him on his broom that day.

“Potter,” Malfoy simply says.

“Um,” Harry begins, “you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

The sound of Harry’s voice seems to shake Malfoy out of his trance. His whole body tenses and his eyes narrow.

“How did you find me?”

Harry smiles awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck.

“Well, that’s a funny story, actually,” Harry laughs nervously. “Do you think I could tell you over a cup of tea?”

“This is just like you,” Malfoy growls, “inviting yourself in like that. Does it ever occur to you, oh mighty Saviour, that other people have lives of their own and don’t answer at your beck and call?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry snorts, “am I keeping you from staring at your wall all day?”

Harry inwardly flinches. He didn’t mean to say that. His mind just snapped. Like it used to, whenever Malfoy was around. Maybe he will have to change tactics and just try to be… charming? But how does one do that exactly?

Keep reading


[arthur x reader]

author’s note: i didn’t struggle writing this one as much as i struggled to write my last couple of fics. i think the key is not to try so hard lol. and this isn’t proofread so i apologize for typos 

word count: 2,738

He’d called you princess from day one.

The first time you interact is at the tavern. You’re the only one at the counter that evening, which isn’t a problem considering the place is usually quiet. The louder taverns are on the other side of town. Those who simply want to enjoy a drink in peace come here, so manning it on your own is fine. Usually.

It’s not the case that night. Ramsay’s sat at the corner stool, as he normally is, alone and staring blankly at his mug. He’s a regular here, pays his tabs and doesn’t cause a ruckus. This time around he’s drinking more than usual, and he is far from a quiet drunk. Everyone does their best to ignore him, but the more alcohol he consumes, the worse he gets.

He calls you over from where you’re at the opposite end, wiping down the countertop, holding up his mug as a signal for another drink. You sigh as you walk over to him and purse your lips. “I think you’ve had enough tonight, Ramsay.” Your voice is quiet so the other occupants don’t overhear, and you smile sympathetically.

Ramsay’s eyes are bloodshot and hard to miss at this distance. He slams his mug down suddenly and you jump. The noise grabs the attention of the others as well. “Listen here, you bitch.” His voice is venom and you swallow nervously, taking a cautious step or two back in the case he lunges across the counter to grab at you.

“I pay you good and well,” he slurs loudly. “So if I want another drink, you get me another fucking drink—“


You look to the man who’d come to intervene. His stride is confident, boots thudding along the wood floors. It sounds like thunder in the tavern which has gone silent. Ramsay turns to him, but you’re not entirely sure his eyes are actually focusing on him because let’s face it, he’s basically drunk out of his mind at this point. Your uneasy gaze shifts from him back to the newcomer.

“You heard the lady.” His voice is iron and unwavering. “Best to put down the alcohol for the night.” His shoulders are squared, feet planted firmly, hands at his sides and fingers outstretched as though in preparation for a potential brawl, if it comes to that (which you hope it doesn’t).

Ramsay seems to still be alert enough to know when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. He slides the empty mug across the counter toward you, fingers shaky as he does, and stands. The blonde man stays as he is, eyes glued to Ramsay as he makes his way out of the tavern. He wobbles slightly, and uses the doorframe to catch himself, but then he’s turned the corner and he’s disappeared into the nighttime streets of Londinium. You can’t help releasing another quiet sigh, frowning a little.

The atmosphere returns to normal quickly, and you turn your attention to your savior. He smiles softly and takes a seat at a stool.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a smile as you pick up Ramsay’s mug to clean it.

The man shrugs. “No need to thank me. It was the right thing to do.”

“It’s a shame, really. Ramsay’s in here all the time. Michael makes it a rule not to delve into anyone’s personal lives, so I can’t ask him what brings him here so often. I wonder what happened tonight that caused… well, that.” You shake your head as you grab a clean mug from the shelf behind you.

The man nods his head, assumes Michael to be your boss. He smiles as he looks at you, your back still turned to him. “That’s nice of you to be concerned.”

“Wouldn’t you feel the same?”

“Some drunks are dicks just for the sake of being dicks. Can’t feel bad for that sort of lot.”

“No, I suppose you can’t…” You turn back around, sliding a newly filled mug toward the man. “Here. It’s on me.”

His smile widens and he picks it up by its handle, holding it up slightly and nodding in thanks. He takes a big swig before he speaks up again. “I’m Arthur.”

“[Name].” You smile amiably.

He doesn’t stick around much longer, just finishes off the drink before bidding you goodbye.  “I’ll see you around, princess,” he says, and you don’t notice the smile still on your face long after he’s left. You take his emptied mug and proceed to clean it, taking in the remaining tavern occupants who spin tales in hushed voices. The image of soft blue eyes is at the forefront of your mind even when you lay down to sleep hours later.


You think you hear Arthur call you that nickname more often than you hear him call you by your actual name. At the beginning stages of your friendship, you’d teased him about forgetting your name.

He laughs when you say that. “Of course I haven’t forgotten it, [Name]. Don’t be silly.”

“You had me a little worried, okay?” You laugh as well. “Don’t blame me.”

“Would you rather I not use a nickname?” The question is genuine.

“I never said I didn’t like it. But I mean, ‘princess’…” You test the nickname, considering it for a moment. “That’s an awfully fancy nickname.”

“Rolls off the tongue well.” Arthur shrugs. “Elegant nickname for an elegant girl.”

“A barmaid?” You raise a brow.

“Doesn’t make a lick of difference to me, princess.” He doesn’t even notice he’s used the nickname. It’s so second nature to him. You purse your lips to prevent from smiling too wide because he’s probably the sweetest man you’ve ever met and you feel lucky that he’d been in the tavern that night, that’d you found a friend in him.


You know he stays at the brothel, had grown up there, and protects the women from violent customers. He keeps you away from that place though, not wanting you to see what goes on. And so you listen to him because you understand where he’s coming from. He doesn’t lose brawls, given his size and strength, but he’s not totally exempt from emerging from them without injuries.

Today he comes to you with bloody knuckles and a right eye that is quickly swelling and bruising.

He knocks at your door at a late hour but doesn’t have to wait long before you’ve opened it—there’s never anyone else it could be but him. When you take in the state of him, illuminated as it is by the torch in the sconce nearby, your eyes widen. “Oh my god.” You widen the door and usher him in and he enters wordlessly, practically falling onto the nearest chair from exhaustion. You disappear for a moment to gather the supplies you need to clean him up and kneel next to him.

“This one put up a real fight this time?” you inquire quietly, gently wiping at the cut on his brow with a wet rag.

Arthur chuckles but it’s raspy. “You should see him.”

He’s still able to elicit a smile from you despite your worry. Your chuckle is a little shaky, but you can’t help it. Whenever he happens to get hurt you worry for him, even though you know he’s more than capable of handling his own. You think that if you look him in the eye you might start crying, so you focus intently on cleaning the cut, on cleaning the blood from his hands. Arthur can tell you’re avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, look at me,” he tells you softly, and slowly you do. “I’m okay, princess.”

You bite your lip to stop it from quivering and you nod once. “I-I know.” You sigh, trying to hold back tears.

Arthur smiles and sets his clean hand on your cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin comfortingly.

He sleeps in the spare bedroom of your house for the night, so you can further assess his injuries come morning. When you do, he pipes up: “I think I might as well call you “nurse” at this point.”

You laugh. “I’d rather you not. Sounds too strange for my liking.”

Arthur stares at the far wall and thinks about it for a moment, then nods in agreement. “You’re right. It’s strange for me too.”


He’s at your door again at an ungodly hour but he’s not injured. This isn’t unusual though. Sometimes he’ll come to talk and you’ll always make time for him. What is unusual, what’s new, is that the night doesn’t remain this way. He ends up in bed—your bed.

Your eyes slide shut when his lips attach to the column of your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to the notch at the base. Your fingers slide into his blonde locks, curling and tugging. He groans, his breath fanning across your skin. His hands are everywhere, undressing you and exploring the newly exposed skin which is every bit as soft as he imagined it to be.

When you lay bare before him you can’t help but feel so vulnerable, so… well, exposed, for he sits back up on his knees to simply take in the sight of you. His eyes rove over you, studying every inch, memorizing it. Your chest rises and falls with every breath and his gaze eventually slides back up to meet your [eye color] eyes which had stayed trained on his face. He crawls back over you again to catch your lips in another searing kiss, and you feel the breath knocked right out from you.

“You’re beautiful, princess,” he whispers.

You stare at one another for a moment, your eyes tender and smile genuine. “And you’re a little overdressed,” you tease, in the same hushed tone.

He smiles and shakes his head at your antics but is quick to ameliorate the issue. His clothes join yours on the floor and your teasing smile is quickly replaced with a quiet moan as he slides a finger along your pussy, feeling the wetness there. He circles your clit with a light pressure and you squirm, wanting more. He doesn’t prolong the teasing, because he’s getting impatient too.

He slides into you easily and you release another moan as he does. And then he’s moving, thrusts steady and powerful and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Your body is overheating but you welcome the sensation all the same. A thin layer of sweat forms on your forehead and you whimper with each thrust, nails digging into the skin of Arthur’s back. The harsh bite of your nails elicits a grunt from him and he fucks you harder, the bed frame knocking against the wall.

“Arthur,” you manage to gasp. Said man lifts his head from your neck and rests his forehead against your own. “I-I’m—“ Your sentence is cut off with another moan and you whimper, close as you are to climax. You don’t get the chance to finish telling him you’re about to come before you actually do, crying out and back arching and eyes clenching shut. Arthur’s thrusts are getting sloppy and he comes not long after you. You’re panting but so is he as he settles down next to you. He can’t help but smile when you curl into him and it feels so natural to wrap an arm around you. The world feels right.


Londinium is thrown into chaos and all Arthur can think of is finding you.

The group’s already been split up, finding different routes out of the city. Arthur tries to find his escape on the side of town you’d be at during this time, and he hopes with all his being that he’ll find you.

He hears your voice, hears you yelling at others to—

“Come on, go, get out of here!”

Arthur turns the corner to see you ushering away a mother and her children, into a building and out of the way of the mayhem in the streets. He opens his mouth to call for you, and your eyes find him quickly. You run towards him, but suddenly there’s a whistle and time seems to move in slow motion as the arrow soars through the air, missing Arthur and instead finding itself embedded in your stomach. Your scream is the most painful thing he’s ever heard and he rushes toward you.

“No, no, no,” he repeats, panicked. It had been part of the plan to try and find you, but they hadn’t accounted for this. You’re cradling the area around the arrow which is quickly darkening from blood. Arthur looks around, trying to find the source of the arrow, and sees a soldier on the roof. Said soldier is quickly dispatched with an arrow, and Arthur turns to find Bill nearby, already grabbing another arrow.

“Come on, Arthur!” he urges.

Arthur forces himself to start moving. He picks you up, one arm around your back and the other in the bend of your knees. You cry out at the sudden shift and he apologizes in a choked voice. Bill provides cover as they set off for their escape route, and Arthur pushes himself harder than he thinks he’s ever had because you need to get to safety.

At one point he notices your eyes sliding shut. “Hey! Stay with me, princess!” he yells so you can hear him over the ruckus. “Don’t close your eyes okay? Stay with me!”

They treat you as best they can in the wilderness between Londinium and the hideout. It’s rudimentary, and Arthur’s heart beats hard in his chest, the adrenaline is still pumping. He can’t help his flinch when the arrow is pulled out and you scream from the immense pain. He runs a hand through your hair comfortingly as the mage takes a look at the wound, and he shushes you gently, though it’s shaky.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. He’s concentrated on your face, on the sweat on your forehead to which strands of your hair sticks, on your half-lidded, unfocused eyes, on your pale skin. The mage is gentle when she treats you, but even if something hurt, you were much too tired now to make anymore noises.


When Vortigern lay defeated, it’s as though dawn has broken after the longest night. And Arthur realizes this is it: he’s no longer just Arthur. He’s a king. Once upon a time he’d been completely skeptical of the idea that the likes of him should ascend to the throne in Camelot. But now as it falls upon him, as it becomes reality, he finds he is ready.

The crown in his hands is smaller than what sits atop his head. He turns it over, runs his fingers over the little jewels, more out of nervousness than anything. When the door creaks open and you peak your head in, he smiles.

“Don’t be shy,” he tells you, and you laugh as you walk the rest of the way in. The people in this room are close friends, so there’s no reason to be nervous, but given the situation, you can’t help it. You keep your eyes trained on Arthur as you stop before him, trying to ease your nerves by pretending the others aren’t behind him.

It’s an informal coronation, but it’s the only one that’s needed. He sets the crown on your head and his smile widens because it’s a perfect fit. “How does it feel?” he asks.

You adjust the crown slightly. “Odd, but… I’m sure I’ll settle into it.”

“You will.” He brings a hand up and cradles your jaw gently, bending down to give you a kiss. You can’t help feeling sheepish because you’re not alone. You set a hand on his chest and he chuckles, standing back up straight, but his hand stays right where it is. “I know you will, my queen.”

It’s hard to pinpoint the moment he realized he loved you. It could’ve been after he’d almost lost you. It could’ve been after the first time you’d been intimate. Maybe it was the first night he’d come to you with injuries from a brawl and you’d helped him without hesitation. But as he thinks more about it now, he determines it had been the first time he’d ever laid eyes on you, when you were just a barmaid behind the counter of a quiet tavern.


Good morning from a ladder in the middle of the prairies!

Today I woke up at 3:30 to hike 5K out to a colony in order to stand on a ladder for 3 hours and count prairie dogs. Hahaha what even is my life!? Normally I kind of loathe visual counts cause it’s so hectic and it’s a long time to stand on a ladder alone. In other locations I’ve been getting counts of 150+ animals in our 3-5 min surveys, but here I haven’t even surpassed 15 lol. I decided to spend my one day off working at a cattle branding (post to come) yesterday so I’m pretty tired and do not mind this slower pace at all. Luckily since I’m the tallest thing around right now I also have cell service.

Despite being tired, it is really nice to start your day off with a hike. It was an easy walk in since there’s literally no elevation here ever, but it just feels good to move my body. A lot of the crew isn’t that keen on hiking so I’ve been trying jump on that and volunteer for the longer walk ins and more remote colonies. It’s not mountains, but it always feels good to hike. It’s also gonna be 32C this aft and with no shade in sight that is basically hell to me. So the earlier we’re out and working the better. Plus, the sunrises never disappoint out here!

anonymous asked:

A girl on twitter posted this '@_lindsben 15 minutes ago one of my best friends fucked cole sprouse wtf' so i'm guesing some random girl has just made this up lol? Sprousehart aren't together but I'm sure you'll try to convince yourselves otherwise when he's fucking other girls.

Yeaahhhhh….I saw, how fascinating this happened just days after we posted about “if Troll were a manho, wouldn’t we hear actual ladies sayin’ ‘hey, I hit that!’?”….and here, on some tiny account, with zero proof of anything is some girl (who previously largely posted about her sad post-college life)—trying to get some attention (which she WILL be getting, just probably a bit differently than she expected).

And also, WHEN did this happen, exactly?

DT tag meme thingy

The fabulous @lovethytennant came up with this brilliant thing and was good enough to tag me in it, so here we go!

Simple rules: complete and tag your tumblr homies or fellow David Tennant fans, just for a bit of fun!

Your first DT memory - when you first laid eyes on the tall skinny scottish bloke: Like for so many of us, it was while watching DW. Nine regenerated into Ten and I was like…HELLOOOOO, who might this cute lil puppy be?

Favorite DT Character: Always a tough question…I’d say it’s a battle between Dave Tiler and Alec Hardy, no clear winner as of yet ;)

What was the last DT related thing you watched: I just rewatched the SAG/AFTRA Conversations on Broadway interview the other day. BRILLIANT!

Favorite physical feature: All of him? LOL. If I have to pick one, I’ll go with his hands. Those fingers, oh boy

Favorite DT quote? Put it here: I still am a geek, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I see no shame in having an unhealthy obsession with something. (Cause lbr, this quote sorta validates my whole lifestyle hahaha)

Have you been blessed and seen him in person: Yes I have and it was amazing!

… or saw him in a play?: Yep. Richard II and Don Juan in Soho

Are you a Tenth Doctor fan: what kind of question is that even? :P

… how about Kilgrave: David was brilliant in that role, but I still wanna push Kevin in front of a bus ;)

Alec Hardy or Emmett Carver: Alec. I’ll better keep my opinions on Carver to myself ^^

Favorite DT series: Broadchurch

Favorite DT movie: The decoy bride

tagging @lovely-tennant, @pipertennant, @tenscupcake, @moltobenebananas, @bloodybroadchurch, @notgingerbutstillgotlegs, @madabouttennant, @aroseofstone


So instead of doing anything else, I got obsessed with the Howls Moving Castle AU.  

She’s the betta half of the two

Killua needs more hugs!!

So... I have one question when it comes to the new Overwatch comic...

Are Winston and Mercy having Tracer and Genji fight each other like Pokémon to prove who’s miracle of science is superior? That’s the only thing I got from that part of the comic.

(I sent this in an anonymous ask here.)

my nayme is Deen
in al the lande
no grayter dood
than bruthr Sam
and wen he falls
but is not ded

i hold his face
i lik his hed

[ oops there’s a sam version

I’ve wanted to talk for So Long about the portrayal of anxiety in YOI but I’ve been having so much trouble putting together what I want to say in the most effective manner. I kept trying to come at this in a more analytical fashion, but considering that this is such a personally important topic to me, I’m going to try a more emotional approach. Something I don’t normally do.

So really, to start off, I wanna say that I’m so damn thankful for the way Yuuri is written. Really, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever had the ability to relate more to character; Yuuri is close to a mirror of my own experiences with anxiety and it’s so fantastic to have a model of development and growth for me and people like me. I found the portrayal to be frighteningly accurate, from types of thoughts, behaviors, mannerisms… I think the episode that stood out to me the most in terms of Yuuri’s anxiety was ep7, aka Yuuri’s on-screen panic attack episode. 

The first thing I noticed was this: 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself in that exact position. I bounce my legs when I panic, just like Yuuri is doing here. Head in his hands, breathing heavily, bouncing and jostling limbs. This isn’t the Mary-Sue cutesy portrayal of anxiety–this is a real anxiety disorder. It’s not pretty. It’s not easy. It can’t be fixed with a single word or a touch or a person. Quite frankly, it’s ugly and you lose control of your body. 

Keep reading


all the times he surprised her and the one time he didn’t…



!Trash Mammals Unite!

@therealjacksepticeye This is amazing!!!! Congratulations on this great achievement! I feel so blessed to be a part of this community. It is so nice and full of such wonderful, genuine, creative and determined people. And with such a wonderful example as Sean I’m not surprised. Thank you for everything and here is to continued growth and most of all happiness and inspiration!

By the way here LOL this is a little animation and pic I drew to celebrate 15 Million. Totally LOVE animating in this art style! Night in the Woods is one of my favorite series of yours (along with almost every other story-based game you play) and watching you play all these wonderful games continues to inspire me to try and make a game of my own someday. Who knows…


I loved the idea, so I prepared a short comic about it!! Please don’t judge  me, I spent the whole Sunday drawing it and neglecting other stuff..ahahaha X_____D)

Anyway I’ll be uploading one page at a time.


Second page here

(BTW if you wanna know more about this AU, you can visit my other post here

  • Isaac: What the hell is that?!
  • Derek confused, looking down at his bags: I went to the farmer’s market....
  • Erica, smirking: I don’t think we can all eat that.
  • Derek: ...
  • Boyd: You weren’t supposed to bring back the farmer.
  • Stiles, looking at his plaid shirt, pointing at the pack while walking away: I’m putting you all up for adoption!