i bet you can smell them


* triggering content below, proceed to read/reblog with caution!

’ If you’re gonna start the killing, you best start it right here. ’
’ Make sure I’m all the way dead, because I’ll come back and make you my bitch! ’
’ Chinese, Japanese, Dirty knees, look at these! ’
’ What you lookin’ at? ’
’ I’m lookin’ at you, _________. ’
’ Yeah, you see something you like? ’
’ I set my standards pretty low, so I’m never disappointed. ’
’ Oh, well I don’t disappoint. ’
’ Please, mister. This is insane. ’
’ ‘Cause it’s definitely getting chiseled on your tombstone. ’
’ Is the shit on? ’
’ Please… Stop… ’
’ Stop? Bitch, I have just started. ’
’ I bet all the girls/guys wanna fuck you. ’
’ Would you say that again? ’
’ Do you kiss your mama with that mouth? ’
’ That ain’t the only thing I do with this mouth. ’
’ I’m gonna have to be taking your car today. ’
’ What’s that about clown business? ’
’ Do I stutter, bitch? ’
’ There is no fuckin’ ice cream in your fuckin’ future. ’
’ I think I’m gonna be wanting some ice cream in about ten miles. ’
’ Don’t you fucking imitate me, it’s fucking rude! ’
’ I know what I know and I know I don’t like that nut sack… ’
’ Two fucking seconds for the kid, is that gonna kill you? ’
’ Yes, it is going to kill me! ’
’ What the fuck is your problem? I’m in and out in two seconds! ’
’ What the fuck is your problem? ’
’ I think I’m gonna get me some tutti fucking fruity. ’
’ Tutti fucking fruity, that sounds good! ’
’ Tutti Fuckin Fruity! ’
’ Here’s the list of names I need you to run down for me. ’
’ That’s a funny-ass name. ’
’ Just tell me if anything connects. ’
’ Shit always floats our way, don’t it? ’
’ You keep your mouth open wide enough maybe you’d catch it all. ’
’ Have fun scraping all them brains up off the road. ’
’ You’re smoking dope. ’
’ You recognize the clown? ’
’ Well, mother pin a rose on me, that is so great! ’
’ I want these motherfuckers dead! Kill ‘em! ’
’ What’s the matter, kid? Don’t ya like clowns? ’
’ Why? Don’t we make ya laugh? Aren’t we fuckin’ funny? ’
’ I’m gonna kill your whole fucking family. ’
’ All right, now get your fuckin’ ass out the car. Go on. ’
’ They’re even better than the real thing, ya know? ’
’ I love famous people! They’re even better than the real thing, ya know? ’
’ Consider me fuckin’ Willy fuckin’ Wonka! ’
’ You ain’t goin’ nowhere, bitch! ’
’ What? Are you calling me a whore? ’
’ I was going to take it easy on you and make it fast. ’
’ I was going to take it easy on you but then you had to go and play the fucking hero! ’
’ Hurry up and don’t take too fucking long. ’
’ I am the devil, and I am here to do the devil’s work. ’
’ You’ve got to hustle that pussy, baby. ’
’ Did you hear what he called me, boss? ’
’ Find a new angle and you might attract a higher clientele. ’
’ Jesus Christ, what a fucking mess. ’
’ There must be one hundred yards of bloody asphalt and corpse chunks. ’
’ You listen to me, and you listen good! ’
’ I am gonna kill every member of your family! ’
’ You listen to me, and you listen good! I am gonna kill every member of your family! ’
’ I’m gonna hunt them down like the animals they are, and I’m gonna skin em’ alive! ’
’ They’re gonna crawl on on their hands and knees, and they’re gonna beg me for mercy! ’
’ They are going to feel the pain and suffering of every last victim! ’
’ But all I’m gonna have for them is pain! Pain and death! ’
’ Give me some sugar, bitch. Make it sweet. ’
’ I keep thinking about old times. Like when you was a fucking baby. ’
’ Shoot me! Shoot me right in the ass! ’
’ So what do you wanna do? ’
’ I knew that fucking cunt would do something stupid! ’
’ Open the fucking door! Open the goddamn door! ’
’ What are you gonna do? Shoot me? ’
’ Shoot me? What did I ever really do to you? ’
’ I swear I’ll do it! I’ll kill you! ’
’ Why would you wanna kill me? I’m your only hope. ’
’ Why would you wanna kill me? ’
’ There ain’t no bullets in this thing. It’s all fucking mind power. ’
’ I think I can still smell your wife’s pussy stink on my gun… ’
’ Where the hell you goin’? Damn it. ’
’ I feel contrite about blowin’ his brains out. ’
’ Sir, you think we’re gonna die here today? ’
’ You had to come all fuckin’ big stick, walkin’ tall, like a big fuckin’ hero. ’
’ Look at you now, hero, you’re gonna fuckin’ bleed to death! ’
’ Meow, meow, here pussycat. ’
’ You gonna take me back to your room and play with me? ’
’ Will you just keep your head in the business at hand here! ’
’ Are you staring at my sister and thinking bad thoughts? ’
’ Woo hoo! I feel like we’re all really getting to know each other now! ’
’ Everyone loves me. Don’t you pretend you don’t fancy me. ’
’ Does she like it when you puke? I mean is that part of your deal? ’
’ Well there ain’t no what, that’s the end of the road. ’
’ Killing sounds so permanent. ’
’ It don’t scare me none and it don’t suddenly make you a fucking hero. ’
’ I want lightning to come and crash down upon my fucking head! ’
’ You could go piss yourself for all I care. ’
’ If you want special favors you gotta give me something in return. ’
’ I tried to walk the line but now I realize there is no line. ’
’ Maybe he had a divine moment when his brains hit the floor. ’
’ I want you to see what happens to heroes… ’
’ I can’t fucking wait! You want it? Here it is, come and get it. ’
’ I want them alive long enough so I can piss in their faces. ’
’ Oh man! I could hear that bone shatter all the way from back here! ’
’ Looks like you’re not getting off that easy. Huh, bitch? ’
’ I bet you scare lots of folks, don’t ya? ’
’ You want a piece of this motherfucker? You want a piece of this? ’
’ What’s that I smell? I smell rabbit! ’
’ You bring us all the way out here and this prick pulls a gun on us? ’
’ Why don’t you get back on your fucking horse and ride. ’
’ Next time, we go someplace else. ’

MariChat May
Day 7: Happy Pawing
Words: 820

He really shouldn’t be here. He knows that.

But what’s the use of a school dance if he can’t even dance with her. If he can’t say ‘Dance with me, princess.’ and enjoy the night holding her in his arms. But he couldn’t, not as Adrien. They weren’t good enough friends to even make jokes about dancing together without the threat of awkwardness following.

Even when he flirted with her as Adrien she would tighten up, raising her shoulders and talk about getting air.

Which lead him here.

To the place he really shouldn’t be.

Transformed into Chat, in a secluded corner of the school, in a space used for storage, holding her close and inches away from kissing her absolutely senseless.

He’s curled around her, both arms around her shoulders with his head resting on hers.

“Why are you out here princess?”

The truth? She couldn’t stop thinking about him, she couldn’t stop thinking that he belonged next to her, dancing with her all dressed up in a suit and tie. Complementing her dress and keeping an arm around her waist to help her stay warm. She missed him, and she wanted him in there, she wants to know who he is and she wants him to know. She craves it so badly that the first reminder of Chat, a pickup line from Adrien, sent her stomach turning itself inside out painfully.

“I just needed some fresh air.” she says instead. “The smell of perfume in there is so strong it’s making my eyes water.

‘Liar’ his brain supplies

“I bet.” he answers. He can still smell the perfume, despite being away from the center of the school, and the music reaches up to them as if trying to coax them back down.

Chat takes a step back from her, as painful as it is and holds out his hand to her.

She refuses to take it, and looks away instead.

“Please don’t make me go back out there, I’ll be dizzy.”

‘Please don’t make me go out there and be without you for another two hours constantly dodging Alya’s questions about why I’m not trying to dance with Adrien. Please don’t leave me and let me stand alone on the sidelines as I watch people sway together keeping their hearts close together. Please don’t make me act like I’m okay. Please don’t leave me.’

Chat steps closer, and grabs a hold of Marinette’s hand, prying it gently from where it is over her mouth, lest she say something close to her true feelings.

He pulls her towards him, and holds his waist with his other hand. He starts swaying to the faint music gently. Mari smiles at him, her eyes scrunch in at the corners.

As she looks at him her eyebrows push in, then her mouth turns down and her eyes brim with tears.

Chat brings a hand up to her face, kisses her cheeks when the tears fall and holds her waist fractionally tighter.

‘I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you. I’m sorry you have to go through this alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you I promise.’

“Chat?” Marinette asks, voice just a whimper. It breaks his heart and he strokes her cheek. She leans into the touch. “Will you have this dance with me?”

He laughs, not because it’s funny, but because she needs him to laugh right now.

“That’s my line, princess.” he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to her forehead. She hums.

“Will you though?”

“I’d be honored.” he answers and she moves her hands to his shoulder, he moves his hands to her waist.

For a moment, they’re just suspended. Hearts pressed together, floating and swaying gently to the music and every second Chat’s joy grows.

She loves him she loves him she wants him near her.

He leans forward hunches over her a small purr starting up on his chest and his hands flexing and rolling on her hips. The material of her dress crinkles and he continues. Watching it wrinkle and straighten, gleam at this angle. He becomes so absorbed he barely notices when he falls out of rhythm and eventually gives up dancing altogether instead focusing on the shimmer of her dress and the feel of her hips under his hands.
She leans into him, eyes looking up and him looking down.

“Chat.” she says.

“Yes, princess?”

“What are you doing?”

“Pawing you.” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He’s long learned to accept his cat like tendencies around her. She pulled them out of him and he could do nothing against it except go with the flow

“It feels like an excuse to feel me up.” she replies.

Chat leans down, captures her lips in a gentle kiss. He pulls away and she presses her forehead into his shoulder.

“Do I knead an excuse to feel you up?”

“I’m on the phone...” ~Smutty September~

Prompt:Could you write an Elijah Mikaelson smut for smutty September, please? Giving him a Blowjob under his desk in his office and he has to stay really quiet because he is on the phone with someone important. It really pisses him off and he has to punish the reader afterward.

Pairing: Elijah x Reader

Word count: 950

Warning: besides the usual smut, curse words, and rough sex…none.

TAGGED: @sapphire2489 @yui-miyuka @khadija456fire @smileybear17 @geminioriginalsimagines @slopezsofie23 @xrevupthisharleyx 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

In my town, lilacs are blooming everywhere! They're my favourite flower, so can my favourite witchy-blogger find any magical uses for them?

Heh, you bet your ass I can.

Also, I love lilacs too - they’re my mother’s favorite flowers too. They smell so damn good.

My own personal correspondences for lilacs would be:

  • peace / calming
  • happiness
  • family
  • positivity
  • hope

Other, more common / general uses for lilac are:

  • attracting the fae folk
  • beauty
  • love
  • psychic power (think of the color right?)
  • divination
  • calming (so mine actually lines up with this one, nice)
  • happiness / positivity (sweet another one)
  • luck
  • protection
  • exorcism

Sources: [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ]

anonymous asked:

Whenever I smell a really good men's perfume I always think about what Jim would smell like. He probably smells soo good. ( I was in the perfume section at a store and I tested Savage by Dior and I think he would smell like that 😩) Don't u just wanna sneak into his room when he's sleeping just to smell his neck. Or steal a shirt so u can wear it and smell like him all day. Someone needs to write a fanfic like this. ( sorry if this was too weird.. I'm weird and awkward ) ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

that’s not weird at all!! i bet he smells amazing too!! i wrote some stories about them smelling each other’s shirts. you can find them here, if you like:

- What Logic Fails to Explain

Written for this prompt: Imagine Spock stealing one of Jim’s shirts so he can smell it at night.

Summary: Jim goes away for a two week mandatory conference and Spock learns that logic isn’t everything. Pining and insecurity follow. But Jim always manages to put him back together, even if he’s not physically there.

- Actually Married

Written for this prompt: from anon… “Jim adores that his cabin and bed on Enterprise finally smells like Spock, and this is home.”

aka that one time when Jim realized that Spock was literally his space husband…

feel free to rec others if you guys know of any <3333

When they find out their s/o is great at baking

Originally posted by iyeolie


Finding out you can bake is such a pleasant surprise for him.  He already thinks you’re amazing, but now he has one more reason to adore you.  I see Junmyeon being the type to not have a crazy sweet tooth, but at the same time knows how to appreciate a well crafted baked good.  Maybe you were just in the mood to bake that day and made entirely too much (which is always my problem tbh).  You didn’t know what to do with all the extra brownies so you took them over to the dorm for the guys to (hopefully) share.  He’d probably be somewhere in the back rooms, but the second he hears Chanyeol screaming ‘OMG I LOVE YOU’ he’s going to come investigate just what the hell the giant is up to.  When he the children with the brownies, two thing are going to go through his mind: 1. Oh shit the sugar rush these kids are going to have and 2. Just where the hell did these even come from?  Of course, then there’s you offering him a brownie, too, and he’ll take a bite and FALL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN.   “You made these, jagiyah?” “Yup!” “Ugh, these are so gooood~!” (cue happy groaning)

Originally posted by xiundeer


He’s someone who probably would enjoy a good pastry.  He’s definitely health conscious but we all know he likes his treats.  He would have called you one day to see what you were up to, wanting to take you out and spend time together, when you tell him you can’t go out.  Your mother’s birthday is the following day and you are busy in the kitchen making her cake.  I think he would pause for a second, the little dots popping up over his head (…) and then he’d break out into a grin! He’d ask if he could help you and most likely the two of you would spend the majority of the day baking away (and making a mess just so you can see him go into super cleaning mode).  By the time you both are done you’ve managed to make a three tier cake with fondant icing, little hearts and flowers decorated haphazardly all over it.  Honestly, you two giggle about how cheesy it looks, but secretly you know your mother will love it.  There was even enough batter left over for cupcakes!  He wouldn’t really question that you’re a baker, he would just enjoy the benefits of such a talent.   However, now that he knows you like to bake expect a lot of baking dates.  Why buy pastries when you can have them freshly baked with your own ingredients?  “We have to do this more often, jagi.  This was really fun!  Plus, look at all the goodies we have left over!”

Originally posted by wonhae-manhi-manhi


Cheeky bub.  You wouldn’t expect it from him, but he’s going to take full advantage of your baking skills.  He strikes me as someone who has a sweet tooth.  He’ll be the one who begs for your baking when he’s sad or upset or stressed or frustrated or had a shit week or he misses you or generally just anything.  Also beware of allowing him in the kitchen with you while you’re baking.  The cookies will slowly start to disappear one by one, but he’ll give you one of those dimpled smiles and tell you he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.  Cheeky, cheeky, I’m telling you.  It all started rather innocently, too.  You sent him cookies while he was away in China as a ‘keep your spirits up’ sort of thing, but that turned into an hour long facetime/skype/etc where he grilled you about why your cookies are so delicious!  He’ll be adamant that there’s magic in there cuz ‘there’s no way these cookies can be this soft and moist and yummy after being mailed’.  Nope no way.  He’ll buy you cute little aprons, probably any appliance you want (or didn’t ask for but he bought it anyway).  Yixing is a dotting guy in general, so just expect a lot of him supporting you in this hobby.  It’s not just because he wants more delicious treats, but because he realizes how much you really like to bake.  He just wants you to be happy.  “Baobei, this cobbler is the best!  Can you make me one for my birthday?” “Of course!” “That I don’t have to share?” “…” (cue cheeky, dimpled grin)  

Keep reading


The New Pack ~ Part 6

Some things will always be eternal.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

A/N: I’m both sorry and pleased to say that this is the final part of the series, for now. (Maybe I’ll write a sequel after Season 6.) Thank you all for liking it so much, I never expected it to turn out so good! I also want to dedicate this last chapter to @ligthngale​, hope you like it darling! *3*

”How is she? Will she make it?” Scott asked his mom when he met her at the hospital the same evening the guys had come with you. Melissa was standing outside the room where you laid, looking through the small window on the door, you were barely alive, your pulse was low and your healing process were slow.

Keep reading

Forgiving A Collaboration

Forgiveness is a flower we plant in ourselves.

“Nope! Forgiveness is jaysome and you don’t have to plant things that are!”

Jay. Look. We’re doing a collaboration. That means we work together, not at cross-purposes.

“Not even if we’re not cross?!”

That’s not – look. Some things are beyond forgiveness. The metaphor is that of a flower we plant, but the roots tangle deep within us. Become other things. Even forgiveness is a terrible lure. Telling people they should forgive the unforgivable is wrong. Pretending they can forget is also wrong.

“But! I forgive Charlie lots of things all the time!”

And Honcho?

“Huh? He’s Honcho!”

And the wandering magician has never done anything requiring forgiveness, Jay? Never made you angry at him? Never made you scared of him?

“Uhm. But but but just because people do things that make you sad-face doesn’t mean they need to be forgiven, @fakesurprise! People don’t need to be forgiven for being people!”

No, but sometimes we have to anyway. It’s easy to let the past chain us down, no matter how far we try and run from it. By forgiving, you change your past. Let go of some of the darkness. Give it space to be other things. We forgive ourselves. We don’t forgive others. We can’t. It implies an ownership, demands some moral high ground we don’t own. We forgive ourselves for what we did, or failed to do.

“Oh! Wow! I never knew that. So every time I’m sorry for an oops, I’m saying sorry to me! But also other people cuz they need to hear that too I bet!”

It is – quite complexicated. Most things are.

“Except for jaysome!”


“If you say it’s not, I’m going to have to forgive you a LOT you know!”

Jay. I don’t think you can threaten people with forgiveness.

“But I didn’t cuz you said I can’t so I made you not be meany to you!”

That – right. Noted. So. Forgiveness is a flower we plant ourselves.

“And it’s really important, and even if we can just forgive ourselves and not really anyone else, they can see our flower and join the same garden!”

All right. That works.

“YAY! Wait wait wait, weren’t you going to write a lot more?!”

I think that’s enough.

“Oh. That means we can have an adventure now!”

An adventure.

“We can find flowers to plant inside you because I bet you need lots of forgiveness for pretending that jaysome isn’t jaysome!”

Right. Many flowers. And a few weeds?

“Those are just flowers being stealthy!”

Noted. Ah. Jay. This is – a lot of flowers.

“Uh-huh! Because! you can’t forgive if you’re not free, and this way everyone can see how free you are and you’ll smell really good and people will know you’re jaysome!”

I see you got flowers for yourself. Including a Venus Fly Trap.

“No one else would want them, so I figured I’d be jaysome so they wouldn’t be sad!”

Of course you did. And I see you added Triffids.

“They are pretty niftacular, you know!”

Yes. I think we need to end this collaboration now before – ah, never mind. You found a forest.

“Uh-huh! That’s more than just flowers and! it means you can forgive everyone all the time by asking their meanness to to leaf you alone!”


(A collaboration between @fakesurprise and @randomlyjay. No, really!)

Because...daddy! ~SmuttySeptember~

Prompt: Heyy for smutty sept can I have a rough Klaus smut bc daddy.

Pairing: Klaus x Reader

Warning: Daddy kink, rough biting(dull teeth), hair pulling, name calling, just very, very rough.

Word Count: 1.2k

TAGGED:  @khadija456fire @sapphire2489 @yui-miyuka @yui-miyuka @geminioriginalsimagines

P.S *So sorry for the hold up*

Keep reading

The Alpha’s Beta Sister

Requested By Anon

Theo x McCall!Reader

Warnings: sex, smut, fingering, Dom!Theo, teasing, dirty talk

Part Two

Theo smirked and continued to torment Stiles and Scott, completely oblivious to your existence. You were surprised that neither your brother nor the Chimaera had noticed your increased heartbeat or the smell rolling off you.

“(Y/N)!” Lydia hissed from across the hall. That drew Scott’s attention and he retreated from his verbal battle with Theo.


“Watch it.” He grunted when he barged into you, the light contact and his eyes fixed on you causing your heartbeat you pound even harder and you flushed a deep red.

“Leave my sister alone.” Scott grunted as he tugged you behind him and glared the boy down. “You ok?”

“Yeah… fine.” You hum, gazing after Theo’s retreating figure.

“Why’s she looking at Theo like that… no, no, no (Y/N) you like Derek remember… giant Alpha Derek who’d eat you if you tried to open up which is why it’s cool for you to like him.” Stiles babbled.


Keep reading

The Bigger man

(Warnings: Smut ((not totally graphic, but still there)) mentions of self harm.)

Being the bigger man is tough, especially when you’re shorter than the person you’re trying to out-mature. For Harry, it’s just about impossible to keep in his rage as Draco Malfoy brags about his position on the Inquisitorial squad loudly in front of his drooling cronies. Eventually Harry’s had enough, and packs up his things, getting up and off the grass, the bags under his eyes flashing purple in the twilight.

“You better watch yourself, Potter!” Draco shouts at Harry’s back as the black-haired boy walks away, hastily. Another confrontation with Malfoy is just about the last thing he needs, but it happens none the less.

It takes all of his will, but he’s able to turn away from Draco’s taunts before he ends up punching the blonde’s lights out.

“Ignoring me, eh?” Harry just keeps walking, clenching his fists. “You probably couldn’t face me anyway. My father said your dad was cowardly too-” Draco says, a sneer clear in his voice. Harry spins around, his will forgotten, all punishment forgotten, and green eyes blazing with fury.

“What did you say?” Harry says, standing directly in front of Draco, looking up slightly at the pale man’s skeptical face.

“I said, your father-” Draco jams a finger into Harry’s robe-clad chest. “Was. A. COWAR-” Draco never finishes his thought, because Harry’s fist has connected with his cheek.

Draco stumbles backwards, his hand tenderly massaging the now inflamed portion of his cheek. Harry storms back up to him.

“SAY IT AGAIN. SAY ONE MORE THING ABOUT MY FATHER!” Harry yells, capturing the attention of several students around the yard. Draco grunts and straightens up, glaring down at the smaller boy.

“Oh, I have plenty to say about your blood-traitor father.” He says, coldly. Another one of Harry’s punches lands on him, this time, in the stomach. Growling with rage, Draco swings his pale fist, hitting Harry by the temple.

People start making a ring around the two fighting 5th years, red and green flashing in their robes. Fists fly, and taunts and curses are shouted, but wands are never drawn. They end up in a heap on the ground, with Harry sitting low on Draco’s hips, punching him repeatedly in his now bleeding face.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” The now large crowd chants.

“Enough!” A powerful female voice booms. The crowd instantly silences and disperses, muttering to each other.

Still blinded by rage, the two boys continue to pummel each other, Draco now on top of Harry, holding his wrists above his head in one hand, and landing punches with another.

With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall forces Draco and Harry apart, each still seething with rage.

“What is the meaning of this!” The Professor barks at the teenagers.

“He insulted my father!” Harry shouts, throwing a hate filled stare at Draco, who’s chest is heaving with heavy breaths.

“He threw the first punch, I had nothing to do with it.” Draco replies, smugly, though it doesn’t really work with his forming black eye and split lip.

“Fine, fine. Now, under normal circumstances, I would bring the issue to the headmaster-” she pauses, a look of clear unhappiness on her wise and wrinkled face. “but I don’t think that’s necessary.” As she says it, both Harry and Draco know that the real reason is that the green-robed witch absolutely DESPISES Delores Umbridge.

The “Devil in Pink”, as she’s been known to be called, has completely taken over Hogwarts, under the strict guidelines of the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge.

“I will give you both TWO options.” She says sternly. Draco and Harry share a look of complete loathing and hatred, but also one of agreement. Agreement that they would take the easiest punishment, no matter how demeaning because let’s be honest; what could be worse than detention with Filch?

“Your first option would be a month of detention with Mr. Filch…” She things for a moment, before setting her face with a sly grin that is not usually worn by her. Gray and green eyes exchange nervous glances, their skirmish forgotten in the nervous suspense created by the still silent witch standing between them.

“Your second…” She grins. “Hold hands for an hour, in the Great Hall. It’s up to you two to decide what to chose.” Draco and Harry share a look of resentment, before Harry sighs.

“The hand holding.” Harry says quietly.

“Do you agree, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor McGonagall asks Draco. He silently nods. “Then it’s settled. After breakfast tomorrow, which is a…” She thinks for a moment, holding a finger to her weathered lips. “Sunday.”

“Yes, Professor.” Draco and I answer in sync.

“Good. Both of you return to your dormitories, and do NOT leave until it is time for breakfast tomorrow.” She says, turning away, back into the castle. Harry sighs and follows her retreating form into the stone halls of the castle, making his was miserably up to the Gryffindor common room.

Draco sneers halfheartedly at the ink haired boy’s back, before turning on his heal and walking the opposite way of his enemy to the dungeons.


“Are you ACTUALLY going through with this?” Ron asks Harry as they walk in their usual trio down to the Great Hall, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Ginny joining them at random intervals as they walk down the twisting corridors. Harry runs his hand through his disastrous black hair, mind racing.

“I don’t have any other choice.” He replies to him, shivers traveling up his spine just imaging how cold and gross the Malfoy heir’s hand must be.

“He could poison you through your hand or something!” Neville pipes up, and Harry cracks a smile, because it’s the only thing breaking through his walls of worry at the current moment.

“Ugh, don’t be thick, Neville!” Hermione says.

“I’ve seen him; he isn’t.” Seamus whispers in Harry and Ron’s ears, who both snort with laughter. Hermione shoots them a dirty look as they reach the first floor, and cross the chamber to the Great Hall.

“Honestly Harry, I think Malfoy wants to get this over with just as much as you do.” She says, placing her books on the table in front of her, and grabbing a piece of toast and slathering it with marmalade.

“Maybe you’re right…” Harry says, glancing over, discreetly, at the Slytherin table. Draco looks just the same as usual, a cocky grin on his face, perfect teeth flashing in lighting that makes his hair shimmer…

‘Woah, what got over you there, Harry?’ He asks himself, shaking his head and turning it back to his friends. Of course he looks perfect though; he’s a Malfoy.

Meanwhile, Harry himself is looking quite the opposite. The bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever after yet another sleepless night.

He rubs his eyes tiredly after eating a small plate of eggs. He hasn’t had much of an appetite of late. Hermione gives him a look, but he shrugs it off, standing up and walking over to Professor McGonagall, who is (conveniently) standing right next to the door, eyes on Harry.

The green eyed teen walks to his fate with his chin up, and it looks as if Draco has the same idea because he is also striding over to the lightly smiling Professor along with him. They meet in the middle, and don’t look at each other, assuming that it would just be easier if they ignored the other person.

“Come along.” Professor McGonagall says, ushering both boys out under stares and whispers of their classmates.

She leads them to two chairs situated in the middle of the entrance hall, gesturing for them to take a seat, which they both do.

“All you have to do it sit here, holding hands for one hour, no less. Your time starts-” she gives us a pointed look, telling us to get on with the task. Draco and Harry begrudgingly take one-another’s hands. “Now.”

Harry was prepared for frigid fingers and icy palms, but is instead greeted by warm and soft skin, with long agile fingers. It’s a welcomed feeling for the Boy who Lived, who finds it comforting, without, of course, telling this to the blonde. Harry himself now feels very self-conscious of his own hand, which is rough and calloused from fighting, and scarred from the Triwizard Tournament the previous year.

Minutes pass agonizingly slowly.




People exiting the Great Hall look unto them with laughter, whispering to each other and making bets. He catches snippets of conversation which make the back of his neck blister with heat.

“Is this their coming out or something?”

“I hear it’s punishment for snogging each other in the third floor corridor.”

“How long do you think they’ll keep this up before one of them snaps the other’s neck?”

Harry buries his face in his elbow, taking a break from the passing faces and takes in the dark.

He becomes more aware of his other senses now that he isn’t looking around. He can hear Draco’s uncharacteristically deep breathing, and smell his subtle but still existent cologne. He can also feel the pale hand squeezing his slightly tighter than before, which Harry finds that he likes.



In a sudden act of courage, he changes the placement of their hands so that their fingers are now laced together. Draco’s breathing hitches for a moment, before squeezing Harry’s hand. Harry runs his finger up the side of Draco’s palm, gently savoring the feeling of the creamy skin that belongs to the Malfoy heir that he was so mad at just the day before.

Harry takes his face out of his arm, finding just a small group of people who proably have money bet on how long they’ll last. He brings his eyes to Draco, who’s hair has fallen in front of his red face. He turns to face the Potter.

“Fuck you Potter.” He whispers, squeezing Harry’s hand hard, and running his thumb over Harry’s wrist, feeling all the bumps, bones, and… scars?

Draco’s eyes widen in shock. Harry doesn’t notice Draco’s revelation, though, because he’s too busy looking at the cuticles of his other hand, before looking up at Draco with an oblivious smile; oblivious to how Draco’s hand skims over the EXACT same place, because his mind is focused on something else.

“Sure.” He whispers, before pressing his lips to Draco’s.


Gasps fly throughout the small crowd, and the click of Colin Creevey’s camera is audible to everyone except for the two boys, who are so wrapped up in each other (literally) that they don’t even notice.

Their lips mesh together perfectly, disconnecting and re-connecting like clockwork, hands burying themselves in black or blonde hair, gasping breaths heard from both of them as they stand up in the wild and passionate kiss.

“Ahem” a voice says, causing the boys to break apart, breathing heavily and still holding each other.

The crowd mutters, and the clink of coins dropping together into the palms of bet winners is heard clearly in the otherwise silent hall.

Professor McGonnagall is looking at them with a look of mild surprise on her face.

“That is… not what I expected to happen, to say the least…” She says, now smiling lightly. “but it seems you won’t be fighting anymore after today.” Draco and Harry blush brightly. “Off you go then.”

Draco and Harry rush away, still hand in hand, neither believing what just happened. They run to a spare classroom, and lock the door behind them, crazed smiles on faces with swollen lips and bruised cheeks.

“Did we just-”


“I had no idea-”

“Yeah, neither did I…”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”

And then they’re kissing again. It’s frantic and messy, but ever so passionate. Harry finds himself pushed up against the wall of the classroom, his neck being attacked by the Slytherin. Harry’s hands roam Draco’s sides, untucking the white dress shirt he chose to wear today.

“Fuck, Draco…” Harry breathes the words, coming undone by the kisses peppered on his neck harshly. Draco smiles against Harry’s skin as he travels to the Gryffindor’s now exposed collar bone, after unbuttoning the first few snaps of Harry’s shirt. He bites down, running his tongue along the mark as Harry moans. His first moan at the hands of another.

“You’re so hot, Harry.” Draco breathes, before getting pushed back by Harry, who jams him into a table. His bruises from yesterday scream, but he couldn’t care less at the moment because of how painfully turned on he is from Harry’s dominance.

Harry re-captures the young Malfoy’s lips, running his tongue thoughtfully against the taller boy’s bottom lip. He pushes it in, exploring the wetness and meeting with Draco’s.

His hands find their way again to Draco’s hips, playing with the top of his pants, and putting his fingers under the hem of Draco’s shirt and touching the fair skin. Draco growls with ecstasy, and pushes Harry away, and pulls him to the ground.

“Don’t fuck with me, Harry Potter.” Draco says, sitting on Harry’s hips, with the other boy’s hardness pressing into him. Harry’s half lidded eyes widen.

“What?” He asks, his voice husky. Draco takes Harry’s wrists and pins them over his head, much the same as he did the previous day. He pushes Harry’s sleeves down, revealing several shallow white scars crisscrossing his wrists and forearms. He runs his thumb over them.

“It was a lapse. I only did it once…” Harry says, leaning up and kissing Malfoy again, biting his lip seductively. Draco pulls away, and looks at his flushed face. Harry sighs.

“Okay, maybe more than once. But I’m fine.” Harry says. Draco sighs, taking one hand from the Chosen One’s wrists and runs it through his silvery blonde locks.

“We will talk about this later, but right now I have something to sort out.” He says, leaning over Harry more to press his boner into the boy’s stomach.

Soon enough shirts are discarded, and hands are roaming chests and abs made from quidditch. Draco traces Harry’s many scars seductively with his finger.

Draco moves his hips to change his position, but shudders from the feeling of Harry’s completely erect dick on his ass.

“Fuck-” Draco moans. Harry smirks deviously, and grinds his hips up into Draco.

Now the blonde can’t help it. What with the grinding and the sigh of the incredibly hot teen underneath him, his hand involuntarily moves into his pants, and he grips himself, sending a shock of pleasure though him.

“Damn, Draco. Someone likes to get right to it.” Harry says deeply, before flipping them over yet again so that HE now sits on top.

“AGH!” Draco screams in pleasure, from Harry grinding in JUST the perfect way. “Fuck Harry-” He pants. “I never would have guessed you would know how to do this.” He gasps as Harry moves his hands to Draco’s pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them-and his underwear- down in one move, causing an 8 inch to come springing free.

“I don’t, really.” Harry says, taking it in his hand and pumping it, causing Draco’s back to arch, and a sharp moan to escape him. “But Seamus does. And he likes to recount his many stories.”

“I’m fucking glad he did.”

“Me too.” Harry smirks.


“So, Harry…” Hermione and Ron approach him the following day, after noting that he returned back to the dorms at about one in the morning, with his hair more messed up than usual, his shirt buttons in the wrong order, and his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. “Where were you yesterday?” Ron asks, giving him a sideways look.

“Uhh-” Harry says, his face reddening. Hermione rolls her eyes.

“Oh Ronald isn’t it obvious?” She says, rolling her eyes, gesturing to Harry’s partially exposed collar bone, where a bright black and purple hickey stands out against his pale skin.

“HARRY! YOU SHAGGED DRA-” Ron starts to scream. Harry muffles to rest of the statement, but it’s too late. All eyes in the common room have turned to them.

“HARRY! HARRY!” Little Colin runs over, a picture in hand.

“What is it, Colin?” Harry asks, exasperated.

“I took a picture of you and that boy yesterday… I thought you might want to see it-” is all he gets out, because Harry’s already taken the photo and thanked him.

Sure enough, there they are. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, making out in the great hall. The moving picture makes him remember the moment even more.

Harry smiles, and touches a finger to his lips.

“Harry, I can’t believe you. His father is a DEATH EATER. He could be one too, you know!” Hermione huffs, crossing her arms.

“I couldn’t care less if he’s a Death Eater. Because he would be the only good one.” Harry says, walking to the portrait hole. “Are you guys coming to breakfast or not?” Harry asks his best friends, before climbing through the hole and walking, once again to the Great Hall on this Monday morning.

When Harry walks in, all eyes turn to him. Whispers are thrown as he sits down at his usual place beside Ron and Hermione.

“Hey Harry. Are you and Draco dating now?” Ginny Weasley asks him meekly. Harry’s face reddens.

“I… Uh… don’t really know.” Harry says, sheepishly. He takes a swig of pumpkin juice. He looks over at the Slytherin table, where it looks like Draco is having the same problem. A small crowd of people is surrounding him, all probably asking questions.

A sudden surge of bravery comes to him, and Harry stands up.

“Why don’t we find out?” He smirks, before walking over to the Slytherin table.

The other houses quiet as he makes the trek across the large room. The group of people surrounding a very harassed looking Draco part, and soon enough Harry is standing directly in front of him.

Before he loses his confidence, he just says the words, and they echo throughout the silent hall. Even the teachers are watching, since Umbridge is away at the ministry today.

“Draco, will you go out with me?” Harry asks, bracing himself for the possible laughter and taunts from his former enemy, but they don’t come.

In a flash, Draco has climbed over the table to reach Harry, and presses their lips firmly together.

“Yes.” And their lips meet again.

The Great Hall burst with applause and supportive screams.

The boys separate, still holding each other.

So yeah, being the bigger man is hard. But for Harry Potter, for the first time in his Wizarding life, he doesn’t have to be. That can be Draco’s job too.


A letter full of regrets. So I played dragon age and here is a small tribute for a decision I had to make.

“I’m not a specialist in writing feely stuff. Despite being completely sure drama was my thing. Whatever…
I used to recall our life in Kirkwall pretty often. Every single day actually. Sitting in tavern with that good old smile and openly saying nonsense like “Oh yeah, that joke of him was perfectly timed” or “Never gonna forget such stupid faces those sons of nags made”. I didn’t care if someone’d heard me. Memories were too fresh to shut them up. All that adventures, no wonder nobody believes my books. Come on, kicking tons of asses, getting wealthy, killing few dragons, robbing a castle. Sounds astonishing, right? And what’s the coolest part - I remember it all. Every tiny detail. Bet I can even recall how Rivainy’s burnt hair smelled after one of slavery market’s clean ups. She looked like a well cooked vivern and screamed furiously. Hawke had to buy every single shiny Jewell from all the Hightown stores just to be sure he won’t be stubbed harshly later on.
Hawke…you remember that bloody champion never played cards well? I still can see his eyes glittering with glory and pride at the day the victory was finally his. Once and for all, I guess. Odd man. You know, despite being damn serious in business and battles, he never said names in such rude and harsh way. He was all like “Hey, Varric, buddy how’s life going?”, “Aveline, you, woman of honor, get out of your desk, lets get some drinks”, “Fenris, I owe you an elvenage-sized box of vine for saving my poor ass!”. It never resembled metal cold “Die” he addressed every piece of crap standing against us. He called us family. We all had dark temptations, odd weaknesses but he saw the light in shadows. And even when our bodies tried to betray him, Hawk…believed. He cared for us so freacking much my own mother never did. Though he wasn’t even the oldest of us. Did anyone really felt older? Doubt that.
So….what I’m trying to say…
Danm, I can’t. Why is it so difficult to operate with simple words. Or don’t I still believe it?
You remember our nights in the Hanged Man? Alcohol, games, face punching. Although Saint boy barely held cards, Hawke still was loosing. Daisy got knocked out from the first glass and all gang unwillingly had to carry her home. And of course there were bandits on the way, and of course they got screwed. After a huge lightning show party had to skedaddle not to bump into bunch of templars. Grumpy argued about “stupid magic” and Blondie just had to answer. Captain talked in commands and Daisy hiccuped so loudly I was aware knights would track us by sounds. Hawke remained silent. And then burst in laughing. Hugged everyone tightly in the giant arms of his. And said he’s happy. He thanked us for all we were. That was a long time ago…
Hawke is gone, guys. I wasn’t there to help him. Wasn’t there to save. I didn’t even had a chance to make up to him. For all he did. I was the one who dragged him into it. It’s on me. But…he wouldn’t want me to blame myself, would he? Guess I still can hear his voice.
Hawke would have said something…supportive. It won’t help anyway. When he lost an important part of him words barely worked. And Hawke wasn’t just a part. He changed people from the inside. Made them better. He made us better. Without him…I don’t even need to know, what would I be like. Life did its best in challenging him. He never fell, never surrender. Beating Arishoc to stand up for Pirat Queen? Sure, why not, he only was five times bigger. Fighting mad templar empress? Living statues? Beams of fire and energy? Oh, okay, everything so that Blondie won’t cry over and blow up something else. Ghosts, spirits, blood mages? No problem. He ripped his ass for our sake. I owed him life I live. I still do.
I want nothing, but promise. From you all. Hawke…was a person worth following. Do not forget it. Do not forget him. Keep that memory. Save it. We had known him long before he became the champion, before he became refugee. We knew him out of those titles, out of history pages. We knew real him. Knew and loved.
Hawke will always be with us….
In our hearts”

Since we’re getting this redneck/hippie party off the ground, it’s obviously time to whip out the hideous animal print guitar. I have to question EA’s love of animal prints in bizarre places. As a former musician who is marrying another musician and as someone who has spent copious amounts of time at shows and in various musical stores, I have to say I’ve never seen a cheetah print guitar. And yet this game is plagued, in every save, with hideous guitars like this. It’s ok, her household is next on rotation and you can bet she’s losing that ugly POS.

The music (she is a decent guitarist, at least) momentarily breaks a few sims from the fire. Dwayne had a moment of indecision but then the bonfire won out.

DeeDee and Doreen are having a great time prodding the fire. I’m not really sure why they’re prodding it but I do know it’s making them smell like hell. I don’t think you see it in this picture yet, but all these sims had big green plumes coming off them. If someone’s BO ever gets bad enough that they literally give off green fumes, it’s got to be considered assault with a deadly weapon. I’ve known some guys that smelled so bad (without the obvious green clouds of stink) that they could knock a normal person on their ass just by standing ten feet away.

TAWOG-The Rejection

Harold Wilson couldn’t understand what Nicole saw in that chubby bunny. Well, actually, chubby was an understatement. Harold had seen ships with less cargo compared to Richard Watterson.

The rainbow-sporting individual narrowed his eyes, staring across the lunchroom where one of the school’s beauties sat. He remembered the earlier years of middle school when all Nicole wore was her martial arts uniform. As plain and gaudy as it was, he had to admit it had been rather adorable on her. That was Nicole when they were all twelve. Now in high school, he began to notice even more that such a lass was practically a godsend.

And fate was cruel not to bring her into his arms. Instead, fate brought her into the sweaty, fat arms of that momma’s boy Watterson kid. Harold watched in disgust as Nicole offered the rest of her food to that pink rabbit, as if she hardly remembered that he already had ten times the amount of calories she had eaten. Her smile was sincere, her flirty offer to spoon feed him her mashed potatoes made Harold’s colorful body redden with rage.

However, he took the time to admire the beautiful blue cat as well. Hair down and held back by pink clips, and that pretty purple sweater that bared one of her shoulders. Her outfit seemed to match perfectly with his own, a sweater of highly expensive value. Just as Harold felt they could be as well.

Before she met Richard, Nicole Senicourt was an unapproachable beauty. Not to say she was a man-hater or anything, it was just that her interests were 100% focused on success, and appeasing her life-planning parents. Harold heard her folks expected her to marry a man of the medical field in the future. Well, he might as well call them mom and pop if he ever personally met them, because that was going to become Harold’s career.

Yet Nicole still laid her heart for the oaf who obviously wasn’t going to get into college.

No matter how hard he or any guy tried, she friendzoned every single one. Harold hated that term. He hated to be reminded that a popular guy like him could not attract the entire population of women. But he didn’t care for other women at this point. He only desired Nicole. She was intelligent, witty, pretty, and incredibly strong in both body and mind. He recalled that time he thought she was running toward him. He tried to act cool about it, sending her his usual pick-up lines, but deep down he was overjoyed that she would finally date him.

How wrong he had been when Nicole just abruptly ran over his face, hardly even recognizing his presence. What made it more painful was how that had been the day she met Richard. Harold would have gladly taken her out to dinner, yet she was appreciative of a dang nut (he overheard her confess this gesture of Richard to one of the girls at school; probably that Jackie person or whatever). While his family was not as wealthy as the Yoshidas, Harold knew he could give anything Nicole desired.    

And that woman chose the guy whom she was willing to shovel mashed potatoes into.

Harold fought every urge to walk over there and use another one of his successful pick-up lines on Nicole. Well, not the “Have you lose weight? Your head looks bigger.” one. His face was still healing from those recent slaps…

He tried not to puke his lunch as Nicole wiped Richard’s potato-covered face. Dear God, he ate like a wild animal! A wild, ugly animal! How could such a beauty like Nicole think that was cute?

“Hey, man!” He turned to see one of his bandmates greet him. “Don’t forget the party this Friday at my  house! All the best girls are going to attend!”

Harold said nothing, glancing back toward the blue cat whose fingers linked lovingly with Richard’s.

“All the best girls, huh?” the rainbow-colored man asked, a satisfied look on his face. ______________________________________________________________________

The party was actually nice for a middle class neighborhood. After Harold parked his expensive ride across the street, he witnessed the front yard overwhelmed by practically everyone from school. Beats erupted from one of the music students who wanted to have a career as a DJ, and the tables of food actually looked appealing. What made it even better was that his bandmate had been right: all the best girls were present. And they were all dressing super nicely.

Harold offered his most suave smile, hands in the pockets of his designer jeans as he strolled toward the event. He high-fived a few buddies on one side, winked and clicked his tongue to some girls on the other. These were the kind of girls easily charmed by him, and Harold could have flirted with them already, but his focus was only on one girl.

As he entered the open door of the house, there was hardly room to roam around. Balloons were rather a cheap attempt at a bash, but they made the entire living space look more lively. He could hear bottles of soda fizz open, and the loud crunches of chips being devoured. Guys and girls raised their voices high out of excitement and thrill, especially on the dance floor while the music increased volume. Harold gave the usual flip of his long, colorful hair.

However, his mouth slowly fell open when he saw Nicole. She stood in a corner, away from the craziness of everything, merely hovering right next to one of the buffet tables. The blue cat wore a yellow summer dress, a white jacket hugging her frame. The clips were gone, allowing her hair to fall to one side of her face. But Harold certainly wasn’t complaining.

She appeared rather unsure of herself, as if she couldn’t understand typical high school parties. She wasn’t with any of the girls at the moment. The best part was that Richard was nowhere to be seen.

Harold’s heart gave a hopeful thump, as if fate was finally going to grant him the beauty he vied for since 7th grade. It could be like the movies. Girl meets guy at party, they talk and dance; and when the party is near its end, guy offers girl to take her home. And then stuff deemed too inappropriate for something rated PG-13 would probably ensue. Harold tried not to think about it, although his drool betrayed him. 


Nicole plucked another chip from the saucer and engulfed it. The party was nice, and all her classmates and friends were present. She only wished Richard could be here. He said he was coming, and probably was just running late due to his protective mother. She hardly noticed a flirtatious rainbow-ed lad sidle right next to her, his eyes trying to meet her own.

“Hey, girl, no need to get lonely,” he expressed with his usual charm. “I’m already here.”

When their eyes met, the fantasy of teenage love vanished as she merely scowled at him.

“Okay, what do you want?” Nicole asked begrudgingly.

She stiffened a bit when Harold’s arm laid on the wall behind her. The blue cat could have given him a black eye already for invading the space between them. She could practically smell mints off his breath, not that it was a bad thing. But just like in middle school, she knew what he was up to.

“So where’s your lard-eating boyfriend tonight?” he teased. “Bet he must have dumped you for an all-you-can-eat spree at Joyful Burger, am I right?”

Nicole’s expression hardened and merely pushed him back. He grunted for a moment, but was not perturbed by this. However, that was the first time they made any physical contact since the day she ran over his face.  

“Richard’s just late,” Nicole insisted. “He did say he would meet me here,” she added, glancing worriedly at her surroundings.

Harold still leaned toward her. “You know, if he doesn’t come, which I’m pretty sure he won’t, perhaps I could be of some assistance.”

She huffed at him. “As if that’ll lead anywhere for us!”

With that she turned on her heel, stomping away from him. Harold went after her, merging into the crowd just as she had and trying to find the blue-furred beauty. He squeezed and pushed past other students, refusing to lose Nicole again. Finally, he spotted her exiting out the back door of the house, leading to the other yard.

Once Harold reached it, he found that the back yard was empty of people. He found Nicole leaning against a nearby tree, her eyes to the moon as she hugged herself from the mild breeze of the evening. She looked so majestic and graceful, all she needed now was a Prince Charming around her arm to make the image complete.

“Nicole,” Harold said, dropping his flirty demeanor as he approached her. She didn’t budge, but still gave him a dirty glare. “You know, I really had hoped you’d come to this party. Because, girl, all I wanted to do was see you, a beauty I’ve known since we were twelve. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

The blue cat scoffed. “Oh, believe me, it tells me everything. And if you think you can just sweep me off my feet like the immature amateur you are, I bet your mother couldn’t look at you without feeling disappointed!”

“Hey, keep my mother out of this!” Harold whined. “At least my mother doesn’t go planning my entire future of probably taking over the world or something!”

Nicole frowned. “Touche.” She then looked away from him. “What are you even doing here, Harold? Don’t you have some airheads to blow?”

“Okay, first off, no,” Harold retorted. “Second, I want a girl who can be real smart with me.” He offered a genuine smile toward the female cat, extending an eager hand toward her. “A real smart beauty who knows how to entice me with sharp words I probably wouldn’t understand but pretend to anyway.”

Nicole merely scoffed again, rolling her eyes. “You can be a Casanova all you want, but it’s never going to work!”

Harold felt a burning rage inside. “Don’t tell me you still think highly of that inflated piece of bubblegum! Even more than me!”

“What girl could ever think highly of you?” Nicole shot back.

“Tons of women!” he argued, throwing his arms up. “Practically millions! They adore me, worship the ground I walk on!”

“Feels more like those women are willing date anyone who’ll hopefully marry them with a large bank account in the future,” Nicole said with disinterest.

The rainbow teen inhaled before breathing out slowly, certain steam could escape his nostrils. Nicole was super witty tonight, and he found that absolutely hot no matter how much it aggravated him.

“Well, I don’t care about those women!” Harold insisted. “It’s you I want! Criminy, Nicole, I love you!”

This time she lifted up from the tree, and leaned toward him. However, instead of anything passionate Harold hoped for out of all this, she merely gave him the deadliest stare any girl could give him.

“Love, Harold?” she repeated. “You really think this could be love?”

“I’d give you the whole world if I could!” he promised desperately. “Well, probably at least Arkansas…” Harold thought, pondering the possibility.

“That’s what you’ll say first,” Nicole pointed out. “But later on down the road of life you’ll become a despicable person whose taken everything he’s loved for granted.”

“What?” he exclaimed in distraught. “You’re crazy!”

“Am I?” she challenge. “I bet in the future after we marry and have kids, you’ll just toss me aside for a younger woman after you think you’ve gotten a billion dollars when in reality it’s actually a forged check that was played as a prank to get back at you as vengeance because everyone knows you’re a jerk!”  

Harold blinked. “What?”

Nicole exhaled, rubbing the side of her forehead. “Look, Harold, as much as I want to appreciate your ‘feelings’ for me, I’m with Richard.”

“Oh, come on!” he shouted, unable to control his jealousy. “What does he have that I don’t? At least I still have my father!”

The blue cat wanted to scratch his face for saying that. After they met, Richard confessed to Nicole how his dad just disappeared one night to get milk. He admitted he was still waiting for him and that milk to come home, even though it’s been almost a year since that night. Nicole did everything she could to comfort him, even though Richard assured her that he and his mom had already picked themselves up afterward.

“True, he may not have his father around right now,” she admitted. “But he does have everything that I’ve always wanted in a man.”

“I have everything and more than what he has!” Harold cried.

“You can tell yourself that for as long as you want,” Nicole told him, her voice suspiciously calm. “Even long after you marry someone who’s probably going to chain you like a dog to discipline that thing you call your pride. You may have a lot of things that would make most woman want you immediately.”

Harold just looked at her.

“But I’m not most women,” she said, her expression hardening. “And all the things you have don’t measure up to what makes a good person.”

He could feel the color drain from his face. Literally because some of the color just dripped down his legs unto the grass. It was a cloud thing.

“Those kind of qualities that I want in a man,” she said briskly, “I see in Richard, oh, so much.”

The wind seemed to get colder as he just gawked at her. His mind jumbled from quick pick-up lines to last-minute reasons why he think Nicole was wrong about him. But nothing came out, his voice empty as his heart. They just stood there, facing one another. The beautiful cat’s arms folded, her blue locks slowly flying across her forehead due to the weather.


Both turned just in time to see Richard standing in the doorway. Harold glance back at the blue cat, and his heart could not descend any further as he saw her face. Her expression of hatred had converted to one of sincere adoration the moment she saw Richard. Never would she ever give a smile like that to Harold no matter how much he tried.

“Richard!” she exclaimed happily. “I was wondering where you were!”

“Sorry…” the pink bunny said shyly, playing with his fingers. “My mom had to make sure I was well-instructed about emergency in case something happened tonight. Like last week at Joyful Burger’s all-you-can-eat spree. Oh, hey, Harold!” he greeted with a friendly wave.

Harold said nothing, and Richard hardly noticed the expression of wanting to die on the rainbow guy’s face.  

“And let’s be clear on something else, Harold,” Nicole said quietly to him. “You may think of me as just some beauty. But mess with me or Richard, and you’ll be dealing with the beast.”

With that, she walked over to Richard. Harold could only stand there and watch as some other guy engulfed her in his arms. He could not look away as they shared a kiss, and he was pretty sure she was using some tongue just to make it more obvious she and Harold would never be.

They returned to the party, Richard unwittingly closing the door on Harold. The heartbroken teen stood there for what could have been hours, still grasping what could have been if Nicole had just stopped running and met him instead. 


Something I thought of after watching “The Choices”.

anonymous asked:

Hi there. Does anyone have any tips to avoid sensory overload because of the summer heat? It's the one time of year that really messes me up sensory wise but I'm not sure how to deal with it. (probably doesn't help that i also get allergies about now, hate bugs, and find the sun way too bright either but whatevs) Thanks! I love this blog!! :)

I think the first suggestion anyone would have for dealing with the heat is to stay indoors in a cool, air-conditioned space if possible, especially if it’s dangeriously hot. If you can’t do that at home, then I’d suggest a public place like a library (since they’re quiet and less likely to give you sensory trouble–be sure to check their hours, though, because some have different hours in the spring/summer months). Fans (if you can tolerate the noise) can also help if there’s no air conditioning available, as can a cool bath or shower if you can stand it. But of course, you can’t forget about the number-one most important thing when it gets hot…stay hydrated!

For dealing with allergies, I’d suggest finding a good 24-hour over-the-counter medication that works for you. There are quite a few on the market now, most of them with cheaper store-brand versions available, and each one is different. Dealing with bugs…I’m going to guess you don’t like the unpleasant smells of typical insect repellent (I can’t stand them myself), so your best bet is either to wear clothing that keeps them off of you, or there are odorless insect repellent bracelets that you can wear. And with dealing with the sun…again, wear hats and/or clothing that keeps you covered, or use sunscreen. There are many kinds now that aren’t greasy and don’t have strong scents to them, but they do have to be reapplied every few hours if you’re going to be outside for an extended period of time. And don’t forget a good pair of sunglasses!

I personally prefer the summer months because I hate the snow and cold of winter, but I agree that all the things that can come with summer can be pretty awful. But I’ve survived some pretty brutally hot, buggy summers, so it can be done. I hope these suggestions help, and I’m sure other kittens will have additional advice to offer.

- Auntie Cat

hunger - chapter 10

Hunger master post

When Stiles wakes up, it’s evening. He’s lying on the fold-out couch in the McCalls’ basement, almost smothered in soft, warm blankets. He can’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable, but comfort doesn’t equate to safety. He shoves the blankets off him, wonders fleetingly who dressed him in flannel pajamas, and then swings his legs over the side of the fold-out couch and sits up. He closes his eyes against the wave of dizziness, holding onto the sides of the frame of the thin mattress while it passes. Then he hauls himself to his feet, and climbs the basement stairs.

He doesn’t think he makes much noise, but Scott is suddenly right there at the top of the steps. “Stiles! How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Stiles says, because it’s all relative, right?

“Mom’s making you some soup,” Scott tells him.

Stiles swallows down his anxiety and follows Scott into the kitchen.

“Sit,” Melissa McCall says in the exact same tone she used on Deputy Parrish at the hospital, and points to the small kitchen table. “Both of you.”

Stiles sits. “Mrs. McCall, I—”

“No,” she says sternly. “First, you eat.” She ladles soup from the pot on the stove into a bowl, and crosses the floor to set it down in front of him. Chicken noodle. It smells better than anything Stiles has eaten in forever. She hands him a spoon. “Take it slowly,” she cautions.

She sits down at the table with them, and watches Stiles closely while he eats.

Keep reading

hrnyscifidud3  asked:

you have any naughty pics of your daughters to post on here without there faces? Bet their ppanties smell good. You should post you and your son on here. ;)

I have a few photos of my daughter, and if enough of you are interested I can steal them from her social media! Let me know! Sorry, but my son has said that whilst he doesn’t mind using this blog to talk about our relationship, he doesn’t want his pictures on here.

anonymous asked:

Baby vult here, whats the best way to get furs/bones to keep a nice smell? I have some bones in my room and im deathly (lmao) worried about it leaving any kind of icky smell! Is there a way for my bones to smell like daisys and not that bone calcium ish scent? Please and thank you.

I think your best bet would be trying to close them in a container with some pleasant smelling plants, potpourri, or something with a strong but nice smell, so that they can absorb it a little. You can also just give them a light spritz with an air freshener, if there’s any you like. To the best of my knowledge, that shouldn’t harm them. Make sure to gently clean your bones and furs so they don’t get too dusty as well; just wipe them down with a cloth, use a duster, or for furs you can even gently brush them with a soft bristle brush if the pelt isn’t shedding too badly on its own (if it’s shedding a lot, try to avoid brushing, and be especially gentle with it).

I’m personally not one for scents myself so I’m not sure how to make them smell like daisies precisely, but I’m sure there’s some kind of scented spray out there. If any of our followers have a suggestion please feel free to chime in!

Liar (Victor Zsasz x Reader) - Drabble Angst/Fluff

Originally posted by twofacedharveydent

Imagine being a new assassin and working for Oswald. You’re assigned to work with Victor Zsasz, who grows protective of you almost immediately.


Warnings: Harsh Language, Killing/Murder, Protective Victor, Caring Victor.

Keep reading

Reasons to get out of bed

1) you can take a shower and ooo aaa that’ll feel so good
2) you can eat some food
3) you can change into clean fluffy socks and cute hoodies
4) you can use that bath bomb in the back of your closet
5) you can brush your teeth and then not be gag when you smell your breath
6) you can FaceTime with a friend/significant other
7) you can cook some weird Pinterest treat
8) you can play with your pet, I bet they miss you
9) you can paint your nails or even just clean them
10) c'mon Jared Padalecki just wants you to be happy