This is my first try in making GoT collages.
I know they’re kinda crappy, but anyway
I had an idea of making a story where GoT houses are competing business companies(I dunno whether smb thought about it before, but I think it’d be really cool). So this is just the “demo” version of what I was planning to do :D
I wanted to add Olenna as the head of the “Tyrell” company, and Tywin as the head of the “Lannister” company, but I guess I’ll do it a little bit later.
Hi there! This is a short blurb that came to my mind today morning and I needed to bring it to life (It involves dad Harry, and, who doesn’t love dad Harry?)
A reminder: Requests are opened
Enjoy :) !!!
“Daddy, it’s my turn to hide. Close your eyes.” The three year-old girl giggled as she grabbed her father’s hands and tried to bring them to his eyes “C’mon daddy, help me! your hands are very big.” Harry chuckled at the cute little frown settled on her chubby face, as she shook his arms in impatience “Okay, okay.” He obeyed his daughter’s demand, thinking to himself that bossiness was one of the many features she had inherited from her mother, you. The next thing he sensed was the continuous sound of her tiny shoes hitting against the grass, as she run towards her next hiding spot.
You were sitting in a deck chair, looking over the scrapbook Harry had made for your third year as a mother. The paper squares that captured your first steps as parents of a beautiful baby girl, along with the cheesy captions written below, melted your heart. You were so captivated by the images, that the sudden snuggle from your daughter made you flinch “Hey sweetie, what are you doing?” She didn’t give any answer, instead, she curled up in the gap your cross-legged position offered. “Sydney, what’s up, could you tell Mommy?” “I’m hiding from Daddy. He’ll never find me.“ You couldn’t help but laugh when she playfully stuck out her tongue.
“Are you ready Syd?” Harry shouted from one corner of the garden, to which she replied with a loud, long “Yep!” He got up from his sitting position and stretched his limbs before heading to look for his princess “Mmmm, where can you be?” he muttered as he moved his head from one side to the other, scanning the area. A wide dimpled grin made its home in his face when he spotted a mess of little curls in between your legs. As he got nearer to you both, the high innocent giggles of the child became better audible, confirming his guess. “Mommy is he around?” Sydney whispered, playing with the ties of you shorts. You looked at Harry, biting your lip in an attempt to not chuckle, in return, he winked at you “Love, have you got any idea of where our baby is?” “No, not at all” You felt Sydney leave a light kiss on your thigh, thanking you for not giving her away “She’s really good at this, isn’t she?” “Absolutely” Harry crawled silently until he was right beside the improvised nest your legs made for your daughter. Sydney didn’t even notice as she was too distracted with the colourful ties “Hold on Love, I… think… I… found her!” He took her out from where her small figure rested and rose her up to the sky. The chocolate-eyed girl kicked her legs in the air as loud guffaws broke out from her mouth. When she landed she run towards you to give you a hug “Thanks for helping me Mommy, I love ya.” She spread little kisses all over your face.
The sight Harry had right in front of his eyes brought him goosebumps. Before Sydney’s arrival, three years ago, he didn’t think he could be happier than he was just with you. He reckoned he was at peak of most joy in his life, that nothing was left. Then his little angel came into his life and proved him wrong. The first time he holded her in between his arms his heartbeat rose like never before. Everything about her was tiny and delicate and he couldn’t believe how such a small creature could bring that huge amount of happiness and love. You weren’t less for him; bliss stepped first into his life thanks to you. You two met at college, where he came from an environment of hate and harassment towards him in behalf of his classmates, in other words, he had been bullied. You helped him get over that dark past and returned him the confidence he had lost. You loved him when he was at his lowest and took him out of the spiral of sadness he was in. You were his most beautiful and valuable treasure until Sydney showed up, then she joined the club.
He felt the luckiest man in the world.
That was when he decided to bring the idea constantly settled at the back of his mind to life.
“My loves, I’ll be right back.”
[Few days later]
Harry came back from another day at the park with Sydney. He was placing all the toys they took with them back in their box when she let go of his grip and run to the garden where you were swimming “Baby girl be careful, don’t run that fast.” He interrupted his activity to look after her “Daddy let’s join Mommy, pleaaase.” She begged with puppy eyes “Yeah Hazz, what are you waiting for?” you insisted.
He grabbed Sydney by the hand and took her to her room where he changed her clothing for a swimsuit; he later did the same with his.
Once in his father’s arms, she noticed a foreign spot in the middle of his clean skin “Daddy, what’s that? Did you stain yourself playing with the markers?” She touched the words with her silky pads “No sweetie. It’s a tattoo.” She gave him a confused look “It’s something you draw on your skin which, most of the times, is meaningful” She brought her thumb to her mouth as she studied it “Have you got any idea of what it is?” “Of course Daddy, I’m a very clever girl.” He chuckled “Okay tell me” The naive child opened her eyes wide, as she realised she hadn’t an answer “Ehh… I dunno.” He gave a loving stroke to her cheek and later placed a kiss on it “It’s yours and Mommy’s name. And it’s located at the area where my heart is because you both are always in my heart.” She blushed and nuzzled in his chest, giggling “I like it very much.” He tickled her tummy,
“And you know what? the best part is that it’ll last forever, just as my love for you two”
Alright so I got an idea. But it requires some preparation and time, also dunno if it would fly, it’s up to you guys.
I’ve been working on preparing a new event for the blog, called “Dress a Dread Wolf Day”, where the idea is to set up a livestream. You’d tell me what clothes to dress Solas in and I’d draw it live for y’all. Can be literally anything. You want a victorian dress? You got it. Some tight pink spandex? You got it. Some revealing qunari armor? You got it.
You can also ask me your questions and such while I draw, I’d be there to answer them.
If you all think this is something you’d be interested in, let me know, and I’ll try to work it all out to do it next week.
Something tells me that us airforce is way more stronger than most decepticons maybe starscream should turn into a b1, b2 bomber or even ac130 Still he had a good idea copying one of the most advanced fighter jet f22 raptor
there is no way the us airforce, or any aeronautical technology originating from earth, could surpass a cybertronian frame. since you’re mentioning the f-22 i’ll assume you mean to reference the bay movies, in which it’s explained that most modern technology originated from studying megatron. even so, energon is clearly a superior energy source to fossil fuels, and everything born of cybertron is inherently optimized for mechanical efficiency.
but yeah, he did the best he could with an f-22 raptor.
Request: Can I pleaseee get a Patrick one where Y/N is seen as an angel to everyone but Patrick catches her stealing stuff & fighting with girls who pick on her nd he kind of falls in love 💕 thank you 😚❤️❤️ — “Why haven’t we picked on…” Vic paused, looking around at the flurry of students around them. “Her?” Vic pointed towards a girl with (Y/H/C) coloured hair, holding her books close to her chest, her posture straight. They all looked, earning a scoff from Henry, “Y/N? Y/F/N?” Henry raised his eyebrows at Victor who looked to him.
“Look at her, looks like everyone’s been picking on her for her whole life. She seems too innocent and - small kind of helpless. Besides, she’s a girl!” Henry scoffed, Patrick’s mind mulled over those words, small and helpless. His favourite words to describe a girl, although he knew she was not helpless. “No fucking way… Look at her… She’s hiding something - besides, Greta is absolutely terrified of her!” Patrick corrected. “How do you even know that?” Henry turned to him. “I sit behind her in science and Greta is just terrified of Y/N.“ Patrick stated.
“No way. She’s too good to do real damage. Besides Greta is always scared of competition…” Victor muttered. Henry’s brows knitted together, “competition?” Henry’s eyes flickered back to the girl, his eyes scanned her body and he shrugged in agreement. “Why does everyone think Greta Bowie is attractive?” Victor scrunched his nose in disgust. “Cause she gives blowjobs to any guy who pays her attention and asks for it.” Belch added. “Yeah but where’s the fun in that?” Patrick crossed his arms, leaning against Belch’s blue Trans Am. “Fun? Have you ever gotten a blowjob?” Belch raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah but that’s beside the point… There’s no excitement, no chase, no effort. It’s just done and dusted.” Patrick licked his lips as he watched the cautious girl cross the street. “How about this… You owe me a pack of cigarettes if I’m right and can prove it and I owe you one if I’m wrong?” Patrick turned to Victor. “What?” Vic asked. “The girl. I think she’s hiding something. If I can prove it, you owe me a pack of cigarettes.” Patrick smirked. Vic scoffed in denial, “better buy the pack soon man… You’re so wrong.” Victor outstretched his hand, a smirk crept its way onto Patrick’s lips, his eyes following the girl.
- The next day, Patrick decided to follow her after school. Patrick’s footsteps were halted when he could no longer see the girl. He stepped closer to the alleyway, leaning around the corner and saw her quickening her pace towards the road on the other side, her hands up her skirt, pulling down the pair of half cut tights she had folded up to appear as mid thigh shorts beneath her dress. He furrowed his brows at her actions, following far behind her. He was amused by the fact the girl he sat behind in science had a somewhat secret life. The girl he had always wanted to hear scream his name.
She turned her head to either side to glimpse at the traffic and took her chance, speeding across the road, taking the time to take the ribbon out of her (Y/H/C) hair, letting it loose, she walked into the old mall, if it could even be considered a mall, where the losers usually hung out. He smirked and followed her across the road and into the old building. The building had a few shops that remained open, a theatre and an arcade. His eyes flicked around looking for her. He waked past the theatre where people lined up to buy tickets.
He looked around, no sight of her. He looked towards the arcade where he saw her slip in. The shops had been closing but the arcade and theatre were still in use. The arcade was old and kids only went there when waiting for a movie. He walked through the arcade and saw her, kneeling down in front of a game and prying the door open with a chisel. It broke free and she watched the money pool around her. Acting quick, she scooped it up and shoved it n her bag, jamming the door shut again.
He stood behind her, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Well, well, well…” he caught her off guard and she spun on her heel in panic. He chuckled at her and she took a deep breath, placing a hand over her heart. “Fuck… Hockstetter, that’s not even funny!” She hushed him as he began to laugh loudly. “Oh but it is… What a reputation you have at school, the quiet one, but you sneak here after school - ah but it’s not just here is it?” He stalked closer to her, his head tilted as a smirk crept upon his bright lips. He licked his lips.
He backed her against the machine, his hands planted firmly on the machine behind her, on either side of her head. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “i’ve got my eyes on you…” He licked the edge of her outer shell from her lobe to the tip, she pulled a disgusted face, still unable to hide the red hue creeping onto her cheeks. Pushing himself away from her with a wink, he walked backwards, eyeing her maliciously before turning on his heel, his spider-like legs carrying his lanky body out of the arcade. She released the breath she had forgot she was holding. She sighed and let her head fall back against the machine, “fuck.”
The one person she wished she could stay away from now new her secret. - “Any hard evidence?” Vic raised his eyebrows. “Not yet…” Patrick’s eyes hungrily scanned (Y/N’s) body up and down as she passed them, trying to keep her composure. “Give up yet?” Vic questioned and Patrick shook his head. “This is ridiculous. Who cares anyway? She’s just a girl.” Henry stated, tripping the Tozier kid as he sauntered passed. The others chuckled, Patrick hesitated as he watched (Y/N) close her locker and turn to glance at him. He winked and she walked to her next class, keeping her eyes off of them as Trashmouth Tozier ran away. Patrick scanned her, the skirt of her dark dress flowed lightly as she walked. He pivoted his upper body to the side, leaning low to glimpse up her skirt pervertedly.
He saw those damn tights that were folded up to look like shorts. He smirked, standing upright. She noticed his gaze and flipped him off secretly. He snickered earning a weird look from the others. - That afternoon, he stalked her again. This time she was just hiding around the back of the school, blood on her knuckles. She stood her ground, Greta Bowie was on the receiving end. He had recalled that earlier that day Greta ripped a few pages out of (Y/N’s) school book. She appeared to keep her calm in the moment but when she saw no one but Greta and her cronies were around she struck. Greta’s cheek was bruised a deep red, turning purple already and her lip busted.
"Have fun covering that up with makeup, you whore.” (Y/N) spat, stretching out her fingers and crunching them into another fist. “I’ll tell-” “-who? All the teachers wouldn’t believe you.” (Y/N) taunted. Greta’s friends had been sitting on the grass, obviously they had been knocked down. Greta being the only one willing to stand up again. Patrick was watching from behind the corner of the building, the same way he watched her do anything at all. “I don’t have time for this.” Greta stammered, wiping the blood off her chin and attempting to walk away. (Y/N) wasn’t done with her yet. “Fuck you.” She growled as she ripped Greta back by her hair, Greta fell to the ground.
“I am so sick and - tired - of you acting - so - innocent and - fucking - with - me!” (Y/N) said between fists. Patrick took his lip between his teeth, this was an extreme turn on for him. He crossed his arms and repositioned himself into their view, if they cared to look. He narrowed his eyes with a sly smirk as he watched her beat Greta Bowie into the ground, who was now in tears whilst (Y/N) panted, her punches slowing. “Fucking face me!” She shouted at Greta who was blocking her bloodied face. Her friends tried to pry her off of Greta but they got pushed back. She finally pinned greta’s arms down beneath her knees as she straddled the other girl, she drew her arm back and threw one of her final punches.
Patrick flinched from the impact it made, the noise he heard was that of something Henry would deliver. He tried not to smile, Greta’s friends saw him and backed off slightly. Patrick thought she was done but she wasn’t. He saw a car coming down the road from afar. He noticed that this car belonged to none other than Butch Bowers. His eyes widened and just as she drew her arm back again, Patrick lurched forwards, wrapping his arms around her, his arms braced around her shoulders, he yanked her off of the bloodied girl and pulled her away, she was seething.
He pulled her into the building and let her go, to which she stumbled away from him and turned to look at him. He wore a blood curdling grin as he stood there, his lips open as if he were panting but he just watched her. “Why do you ruin everything?” She spat, venom dripping from her tongue, she fixed her dress. He licked his lips and stalked towards her, “I can’t let you ruin your reputation, now can I, princess?” He furrowed his brows, wearing that damn fake condescending pout as his thumb grazed over her lip which had blood dripping from it, “looks like Greta got at least a hit or two in?” He raised his eyebrow. She slapped his hand away, he smirked, licking the blood of of his finger, she began to walk away. “So… Where are we headed?” He asked catching up to her calmly. She frowned at him and he looked down at her, smiling pathetically. She smiled at the ground and shook her head.
“I dunno.” She exhaled. “I have an idea.” He cocked an eyebrow and glanced down at her in the corner of his eye, waiting for her response. She looked up at him, she smirked, “okay.” Their first pitstop was the gas station, not for gas, not for food but for lighter fluid. Patrick grazed the isles, “you know… Everyone thinks your some small, helpless angel…” He stated, looking at different bottles of lighter fluid. “Yeah and I’d like to keep it that way.” She warned, grabbing the lighter fluid out of his slender fingers and sliding it into her pocket along with sour candies. She turned on her heel to leave, she strode out like she owned the place, his gaze still following her, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed and allowing a small smile to creep onto his lips.
He shook his head and followed. “See with that facade, I can get away with anything.” She shrugged when he finally caught up to her outside the gas station. “What else don’t we know about you?” He asked, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. She smirked up at him and in one swift movement took it from his lips and placing the cigarette between her own, her (Y/E/C) eyes maintaining eye contact with his deep blue ones.
He stared in utmost admiration, the corners of his lips lifting amusedly. She took a long awaited drag and blew out the remnants from her lungs. He snatched it back from her, “smoking isn’t ladylike.” He teased. She rolled her eyes, “good.” He snickered at her reply. “So where are we headed?” She asked, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets after wiping the blood on the skirt of her dress. “A place I like to call heaven.” He smirked mischievously.
“Seriously?” She placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “My favourite place.” He opened his arms wide and let them fall back to his sides. “It’s actually really cool…” She admitted. There they were, on the cliff hanging over the quarry. “You swim a lot?” She asked and he shook his head, “not really.” “Can you even swim?” She asked and he stared at her, “yes, I can.” He defended calmly, sitting down against a rock. “Okay… What do you do here if you don’t swim?” She asked, sitting down beside him, facing the quarry.
“I just sit, smoke…” He trailed off. “Nothing else?” She chuckled. “Jesus… Your life is more boring than mine.” She took out some sour candies and offered him one, he took it gleefully. “Your life isn’t boring at all…” He stated, scoffing down the lollies. “I mean - you beat up Greta - and her friends… You fucken - steal shit - you smoke… I’m guessing you have all these adventures too?” He asked between the chew of the lollies.
“Not anymore. I used to. Richie Tozier and I used to hang out all the time, smoke, have adventures, he never could steal but we always had fun. We kinda drifted though. So no more adventures for me.” (Y/N) pressed her lips into a thin line. “Fucking Trashmouth Tozier? You were friends with him?” He laughed. “Yeah.” She deadpanned. “Why don’t we have adventures of our own?” He smirked suggestively. “And what do you have in mind?” She asked, raising and eyebrow. He grabbed her face and pulled her into him, his lips pressing against hers.
His lips were unexpectedly soft, he tasted like sour lollies and so did she, with a hint of metal from the dried blood.. They pulled away, the slightly shocked expression on her face faded into want. Her flushed cheeks stood out against her flesh. He grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his lap, attaching his lips to hers once more, his hands firmly planted on her hips, her hands snaking up to his neck and jaw.
His tongue glided against her bottom lip. His thighs providing support for her back as he leaned forward, his knees bent upward. His hand snaked from her side to her cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing against her cheek bone. He tilted her head up and let his lips escape to her neck, planting vicious and sloppy kisses across her neck. She couldn’t believe after only two full days of knowing the creep that is Patrick Hockstetter she allowed herself to makeout with him
“You comin’ Hockstetter?” Belch called out to Patrick as he hesitated to get into the car. “Nah.” he shrugged, “I got stuff to do.” He said, walking away, back into the school, looking for (Y/N). He found her gathering her belongings and placing them in her book bag. “So… Where to today?” She asked with a sly smirk. “Anywhere we find ourselves.” He shrugged. “Spoken like an annoying poet but I like it.” She added, following him out of the school. They walked side by side for what seemed like hours, the silence eating at her. “Where are we going?” She cleared her throat. “Well, we’re here.” He chuckled. “The Kissing Bridge?” She shook her head laughing. “I thought maybe we’d rob a bank or something exciting.” She teased with a scowl.
He winked and pulled her into the dark tunnel by her forearms, his back hit the brick wall behind them, he pulled her forearms down to his sides, pulling her closer into him, he smirked and craned his neck to her level and pressed his lips against hers. His tongue ran over her bottom lip, begging for entrance, she obliged. He tasted of cigarettes and sour lollies, presumably from the fact she had given him the entire bag she had stolen the previous afternoon to take home, meaning as usual, he was chewing on lollie’s throughout the day.
She smiled into the kiss, her hands attaching to his shoulders and his moving to her cheeks. He nipped at her lips seductively, his actions fuelled with hunger and desire. She pulled away, making him beg for it, although Patrick doesn’t do begging. He grabbed her and spun them around, pressing her against the wall, his knee between her thighs, one hand still planted firmly on the side of her jaw and the other on the wall. At this point he didn’t care if he had any evidence to give to Vic, he just wanted (Y/N) all to himself, her and all her secrets. He tipped her head up by her chin and began leaving harsh and sloppy kisses across her neck. “What the fuck?“ They turned to see the rest of the gang walking up the kissing bridge with some poor kid squished between them.
"Can I help you?” Patrick asked casually, slightly annoyed even, looking down at the girl between him and the wall. “Oh - yeah… Criss, I give up.” Patrick smirked slyly, tossing him a new pack of cigarettes. Vic caught them awkwardly. Patrick pushed himself of of the wall and wrapped his arm around her, “nothing to see here boys…” He grinned as they walked past the others. “Now I’m really confused…” She muttered and he chuckled, “I’ll tell you all about it later. My house?” He cocked an eyebrow. She tried to fight a smile, biting her lip and looking away, he smirked, pulling her closer and glancing back at the boys, giving Victor a shrug, followed by a mischievous smirk.
idk how you have no self confidence and yet refuse to listen to anyone telling you that ur being disrespectful about their beliefs/ assuming youre right when they clearly have more authority on the matter as a person who actually follows these beliefs and doesnt collect runes bc theyre "cute"
bc i dont have any self confidence beyond my tiny realm of understanding. runes falls within my tiny realm of understanding because i researched them & i know what each of them means from a lingual and spiritual standpoint, as well as how to use them (like, i literally have a white rabbit fur pelt for them. cuz i know that’s proper, and cuz i also think it looks nice when im using them.) i dunno where u got the idea im collecting runes that r cute, i just said i think the practice & the runes themselves are cute and thats why i use them as opposed to doing it because im genuinely 100% devoted to followin the fuckin word of the aesir.
like i said, this is within my realm of understanding. i know what im talking about, i know abt pagan beliefs & rituals, just because i myself dont devote my faith to following the beliefs doesnt mean i don’t grasp them. i know where i stand & that theres fuckin literally nothin wrong about having runes and not committing to a pagan lifestyle lmao.
like, i could literally just say “okay then im pagan now” and your argument ends because its literally that easy. theres no bare minimum for considering yourself pagan. theres a winding list of pagan faiths to choose from. i could just say “i believe in lots of gods, they are very real to me & i use the runes to commune with them for guidance” and that’d be it. the only thing is that i don’t personally live like that. am i not allowed to use runes suddenly, because i personally attribute the ‘guidance’ to random chance & decide how much faith im going to put into the readings? lmfao. this is stuff i know about.
What I want in season 3 either before or after Chloe finds out is for one of Lucifer’s siblings to go to the precinct looking for ‘Samael” and everyone to slowly work out their talking about Lucifer and Dan to mishear him and just be there going “Samuel, his name is Samuel! All that time talking about devils and godgiven names and his name isn’t even Lucifer”
Hi there! First off, your writing is amazing and you are a cute and pretty person. Secondly, could you write some fluffy and/or funny headcanons for a fem s/o who is pregnant and in a poly relationship with Noct and Prompto? Thanks <3
You’re too kind, darling!!! Thank you so much! I got you on those headcanons!
I don’t have any personal experience with a true poly
relationship. I’ve been a couple’s “girlfriend” before but I dunno that was
toxic that was a mess let it stay in the garbage where it belongs (withardyn).
IN ANY CASE! I love the idea of Poly!Promtis so I gave it my best shot despite
my lack of experience!!
Whoops, I sorta phased out of existence for a bit longer than intended. I needed a break a few weeks ago so I stepped away from tumblr and dA for a bit.
I kept drawing a bit though! I did take the week of Valentine’s totally off because I was exhausted all week. I think I was fighting off illness or something. It felt like I was either at work or in my bed the whole week.
In any case, I’ve been holding out on posting any Joybaps because I’m still working on her design, but on the other hand I’ve got all these drawings laying around. These are posted fairly in order of drawn. I moved away from the yellow/pink because I realized I was doing THAT YELLOWQUIET THING where I try to draw Fluttershy but not. :V But I dunno, maybe it’s different enough.
I’m open to critique, comments or ideas as her design is still fairly liquid.
I have a bit more to post so I’ll smash that in the next one on its own.
Ahh, so I wrote a little Sterek fic today! Now that it’s summer, I finally had time.
Oh, and I was inspired by this Buzzfeed video, because it was very cute.
(word count ~2k, rated T)
The title card of the video reads “Guys kissing guys for the first time!” in big, glittering bubble letters. Underneath is the neat caption, “Erica R., Gender & Society film project, Fall 2015.”
“Wow, I did not think this through,” Stiles laughs, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I think I’m just gonna–”
“Nope.” Erica shoves him back into the chair. The movement makes the blue sheet she hung up as a backdrop ripple. “I already paid you and you already spent it, so shut up and stop being a wimp.” She turns and adjusts something on the camera. “Okay, let’s start over. How many times have you ever kissed a guy?”
Stiles glances at the camera, then back to Erica. “Uh, never. Zero. That’s kind of the whole point, right?”
It wasn’t yet sunrise when Anne began stirring restlessly in the unfamiliar bed in Gaston’s Tavern. When she woke, she momentarily forgot her surroundings. Beginning a new day in a home that wasn’t a cottage stuck in the French countryside was surreal and her conversations and encounters from the previous night began to surface. Sifting through the dark, Anne lost her balance while leaning off the bed. She immediately fell onto the floor with a thud.
“Ow,” she groaned. The girl was awfully clumsy, bumping into several corners and objects as she maneuvered her way through the room.
Taking the curtains in one hand, she pulled the fabric aside steadily, as if fearing it may rip, and the streetlights from outside filled the room with faint light. The night was a bit of a blur, she had been exhausted from her journey, but she couldn’t forget the handsome yet uncouth man she met in the tavern downstairs. And there he was, the subject of the painting hanging above the fireplace, with the identical crimson jacket seen in every other painting in the tavern. The man was proudly displaying his gun while sitting upright with perfect posture on a jet-black horse. His eyes were different, though, she noticed. In the painting, the jade coloring was so distracting that its vibrant shade did not seem genuine. In reality, Anne had already noticed that his eyes were darker, an earthy green and brown that swirled together. They concealed certain secrets and powerful emotions. It was clear from the previous night that he was a dispirited man, and so gazing upon this painting that should have conveyed strong feelings of heroism and greatness simply made her feel downhearted.
The room she was staying in was very unkempt, that much was obvious. The painting’s only other companions were hunting trophies from years gone by and a massive deer head mounted on the beige wall. Miscellaneous furniture was positioned randomly throughout the bedroom: a frail, sad-looking writing desk, a rotting wooden closet stained with years of watermarks, and a powder blue cushioned chair in perfect condition, never touched.
As she gently closed the door to the room, her attention shifted to the locked door across the hall: Gaston’s room. It seemed awfully quiet in there. Anne pondered whether or not it would be appropriate to knock on the door but eventually decided against it. She would just venture downstairs to the tavern and wait until Gaston or Lefou spotted her.
Every morning, Gaston would wake before the sunrise to sit alone in the tavern and linger on the past. This approach wasn’t necessarily intended to help him or boost his confidence for that matter (in fact, it did quite the opposite) but Gaston sometimes enjoyed remembering. He didn’t recognize the man in the paintings anymore. He didn’t recognize the man from six months ago. He needed people to love him. He needed people to idolize him. That was Gaston. But after the night he attacked the Beast, everyone shunned him and it was shocking, to him, that they hadn’t kicked him out of the village already. That night in June was now only a blur: Belle dismounting her horse and confirming Maurice’s story about a Beast in the castle, the magic mirror, the mob, his brutal attack on the Beast, falling to his death (or so he thought) from the castle only to be given a death sentence. It was unfair. The tavern’s vibrations of music and laughter were long gone – Silence was all the war hero knew presently. He didn’t know himself without the constant validation and love he needed from his companions.
Anne reached the last step and rounded the corner to discover Gaston, deep in thought, staring at the assemblage of antler decorations on the wall. He looked different…he wasn’t flushed with anger and practically foaming at the mouth…it was a self-reflective moment, so Anne felt awkward about clearing her throat to announce her presence. To her surprise, he didn’t ask her to leave or demand she return to her room, he simply half-grinned and pointed upstairs.
“Was that you earlier?” He asked. It took Anne a few moments to realize he was referring to the thud.
Dunno if you read this before but I was wondering have you ever write a fic where Harry is totally being a guy in trying to impress Ginny?
A/N: little shorty! I hope it’s fulfilling <3 Side note, I kinda want to do more Jily lived + Hinny fics, so if anyone has ideas/prompts send them please? Anyway, enjoy this canon verse Hinny snog fest.
The trainee auror program at the Ministry starts with about a month of
mind-numbing lectures and reading assignments on the basics of magical law
enforcement, which means the only things Harry got to show off to Ginny before
she left on September 1st were paper cuts and eye strain. Which, that’s not why he chose to become an auror, but the fringe benefit of
impressing Ginny was a pleasant idea that was sadly unfulfilled.
So by the time Ginny’s back for Christmas break and Harry’s finally
completed his physical training circuit, it’s been long enough that he doesn’t
really think about the changes to his body much anymore, despite the definitive
increase in muscle tone and overall broadness.
Until Teddy spits up on Harry’s t-shirt and Molly sticks out her hand
expectantly for the dirtied clothing.
After passing Teddy off to Ginny, Harry whips the shirt off – somehow
miraculously keeping any baby fluids off his person – and hands it to Molly,
all of this in such quick succession he almost
misses Ginny’s gob smacked expression.
When Ginny’s eyes drag away from his newly muscled chest and connect with
his, a blush rises on her freckled cheeks and Harry can’t help but preen a bit
at the thought that Ginny finds his body attractive.
In fact, he so much can’t help it that he finds himself looking for ways to
subtly flex when Ginny’s around.
Preferably shirtless. Which is
actually not particularly difficult since Teddy’s lately become a fan of throwing rather than eating his various
vegetable mashes and flexing is literally a matter of thinking about it. And eventually Ginny seems less embarrassed
and more in favor of taking full advantage of the free show, while Molly just
rolls her eyes and tosses Harry’s shirts in the wash.
The only real difficulty then, is toward the end of Christmas hols when
Harry invites Ginny to his flat and Teddy is out of the picture. Because up until this point, Ginny has ogled
and Harry has strutted, but no one has gotten any immediate gratification from
the ogling and strutting – although they did
have a rather spectacular snog once Molly and Arthur went to bed after
Sunday dinner at the beginning of the week – so Harry’s determined to find a
reason to be shirtless when Ginny arrives.
And hopefully stay that way.
In the end, he decides to just be so harried – no pun intended – that he
hasn’t gotten a chance to put one on in the first place, which is actually very
near the truth, considering Harry’s barely got his jeans zipped before the floo
flares and Ginny calls through the flat, “Honey, I’m home!”
angsty reddie prompt where richie has been moody lately and won't tell eddie why and they have a huge fight over nothing and it ends with richie sobbing
Not too fond of the way this turned out I’m still learning these characters
“For the love of god, Richie, what’s wrong with you?” Eddie slams his locker door, ignoring the way Richie flinches at the loud noise. “You’ve just- you’ve been such an asshole lately!”
“I’m always an asshole, Eds, it’s one of my best qualities.”
If there’s ever been a time Eddie wants to band his head against a wall, this is it. “Don’t call me Eds, and just be serious for ten seconds. Do you want to break up?”
He knows that it’s not what Richie wants, and it’s definitely not what Eddie wants either, but he needs his boyfriend to take a conversation seriously for once in his life.
There’s always an unpredictable element to Richie, but Eddie couldn’t even begin to expect what happens: Richie bursts into tears.
Whatever it is that Richie tries to say comes out in a jumble of incoherent sobs. He looks at Eddie with wide, wet eyes. His face looks like someone who’s lost everything and he’s ten seconds away from a meltdown in the middle of the Derry High School halls.
“Hey, c’mon.” Eddie takes one of Richie’s hands and drags him to the janitors closet. No one ever bothers them there, so it’s perfect for times like these when they need to talk in private. “What’s going on?”
“I’m just so ba- bad for you and you deserve- deserve better and I f-feel like shit cause I’m a- a- a shit boyfriend.”
“First of all, leave the stuttering to Bill. Second- Rich, babe, you’re not a shit boyfriend. I dunno where you got that idea, but it’s not true. You may make a lot of shitty ‘your mom’ jokes, but I love you. A lot.”
Summary: Request fic for @speedywheelz. “imagine where Gerard walks in on you reading naughty fanfics about him haha”.
You got a notification on your phone that your favorite MCR
fanfic author had just posted a new oneshot. You weren’t sure why you still
followed them, to be honest. You’d tried to distance yourself from the Tumblr
fandom after you started dating Gerard for real.
Part of that was because of the flurry of anons you’d
started getting in your inbox when the tabloids got wind of your relationship.
Some of the questions were just invasive (what’s
Gerard really like in bed? ;) ) while others were outright hostile (Wtf makes you think you deserve to date
him?!). The worst part was the fanfic authors who wrote stories where
Gerard broke up with you, or even ones where you died, so that their OC and Gerard could be together. On the other
hand, some writers had started calling you and Gerard their “OTP”. That was
But, this writer was just so good that you couldn’t bring
yourself to unfollow her. She hadn’t posted anything in a while, so you hadn’t
really thought about her for some time. You found yourself clicking onto the
fic anyway. Pairing: Gerard x Reader, the
description warned. Genre: Smut.
You blushed, remembering all the lonely nights when you’d
still been single and had gotten yourself off on the fantasies this author
spun. Gerard wasn’t home at the moment, and you were feeling a little lonely. For old time’s sake, you thought, and,
hesitantly, began to read.
You found yourself getting really into it, your temperature
climbing as you read the filthy, kinky sexual situation the author was
Your fingers twisted
into Gerard’s hair as he thrust into you more deeply and moaned, “Oh, Y/N, yes……..Y/N……..”
“Y/N, what are you doing?” said a voice behind you, and you
“Gerard?!” you gasped, turning around to see your boyfriend
standing there with a raised eyebrow. “Y….You’re home early…..”
“Yeah, I finished up my work a little faster than I thought
I was going to,” Gerard explained, still looking at you curiously. “What are
you reading over there?”
“Nothing!” you said quickly, turning red and clutching your
phone to your chest.
A/N: H-hey, guess who’s back! (Sweats nervously). I know, I know, that new chapter was long coming, and I do plan on posting it tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy this little short that has nothing to do with anything, really! Or does it?
Anyway, per usual, this thing’s got a really strong Flat Dreams influence. Shoutout to @pengychan and stuff. And the idea was actually requested by Barbacar on ffnet. Enjoy!
The first thing Mabel saw upon waking up was white. The next thing she saw was also white, because there was nothing but white all around her: the “ground” she was laying on, the “sky”, and the wide expanse all around her was all a blank, blinding emptiness. There was no wind, no sound, and most importantly, no Dipper. Wasn’t he with her before…before- what?
The girl squinted into the blank abyss above her head, trying to remember how the heck she got here and why there was a heavy dread pooling in her chest that wouldn’t go away. She remembered Dipper, he was there with her, he looked…scared. And the Grunkles were there too…panicking?
“MINIE!” No no NO.
“YOU!” She- she was-
“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT SHOOTING STARS, THEY BURN BRIGHTEST BUT LIVE THE SHORTEST!” There was an intense amount of heat and then-
She’d died. She’d died, and now she was-
“No no no no NO!” It took a moment for Mabel to realize that the voice wasn’t coming from her head. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS SO ME! COME ON, I INVOKED YOU, YOU’RE SUPPOSTA GET ME BACK!” She raised her head and saw a familiar yellow glow that froze the blood in her veins. The triangle was floating only a few feet away from her, shouting obscenities at the white expanse of sky, some of which did not even sound human. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO-” the demon turned around, his single eye fixing onto her, pupil narrowed to nothing but a pinprick. “YOU.”