if you repost this i will find you and kill you

Christmas Day: Surprises (Newt X Reader)

Originally posted by tracd

IT’S MOTHER FREAKING CHRISTMAS TIME, CINNAMON BABES! This is my Christmas gift to you loyal cinnamon rolls. You guys are my gifts, I cannot believe how many reblogs, likes, and followers I have. Thanks sososo much!

~She-who-nailed-it 🎁🎅🏻🎄

Warnings: If Christmas stories could kill, it’ll be this one. Read with caution. Also I write like Newt, Tina, Queenie, you and Jacob all live together. If you think it’s stupid, you don’t have to read it.

Yes you may reblog, no you may not repost without my permission.


“IT’S CHRISTMAS ITS CHRISTMAS!”

Newt woke up to the sound of you thundering down the hall. Jacob rolled around in his bed and groaned. “Lord…” He mumbled, hiding deeper into his covers.

You opened the door to Newt and Jacob’s room and roared, “GET UP YA FILTHY NO-MAJES!” You jumped onto Newt’s bed, causing Newt to have a mini heart attack.

Newt basically had a mini heart attack no matter what you did. Even when you so much as calmly entered the room. Yeah. He was screwed. So terribly. He actually liked you. Something about your hyper attitude and sass drew Newt to you. Normally people like you annoyed Newt, but even with your sass and no filter, you were sweeter than sin and chocolate.

“C'mon, Newt!” You shook Newt and then jumped off his bed to go but Jacob. “Jacob! Christmas!”

“Aren’t you a little too old to get so excited?!” Jacob demanded, trying to pull the covers over his head.

Newt sat up, observing you. That was another thing he liked about you. You were so enthusiastic about everything. It was utterly adorable.

“Don’t be a cloudy day!” You giggled, grabbing Jacob’s pillow and hitting it over his head. “Get. Up!”

Jacob bolted up and hopped out of bed. “Okay okay! I’m up, you slave driver!” He smirked in good nature and patted your head, as he yawned and walked off to the bathroom.

“Are you coming too?” You said turning to Newt, smiling innocently at him.

Newt felt butterflies in his stomach. “Y-yes! Of course! Y/N, I had something to t-tell you, actually,” Newt rubbed his neck and looked down at his covers. “You see… ah never mind. It’s not that important.”

You looked at Newt, giving him a puzzled look. “You can tell me later, okay? Promise me,” you added on at the end, taking his hand and pulling him out of bed.

Newt blushed at the physical contact. He nearly jerked his hand out of yours, but he allowed you to drag him into the kitchen.

Since all five of you were on a pretty tight budget, you couldn’t all really get each other individual gifts. So around Thanksgiving you did name draws and got that person a special gift.

You entered the kitchen, stilling holding Newt’s hand and standing awful close to him. Queenie noticed the two of you and smiled a big smile. “Well hello, Honey!”

Newt rubbed his chin, pretending to be thoughtful and let go of your hand. He gave a silent pray and hoped Queenie wasn’t reading his mind. “Merry Christmas to you too, Queenie,” Newt coughed. His eyebrow twitched upwards as he gave an awkward glance at Queenie. Crap. She was looking at Newt, her eyes piercing his mind.

Once everyone sat down at the table and had his or her choice of drink, they exchanged the gifts.

You looked at the package, it was messily wrapped and said, “From Newt. To Y/N.” You tore it open to find a finely knitted sweater. Not a chunky ugly sweater, but quite finely knitted, with soft burgundy yarn. It was stunning and so soft. “Oh, Newt! Where did you get this?!” You gushed out, running your hands on the sleeves.

Newt gave a small smile. “I knitted it…” He avoided your eyes, expecting you to laugh and make fun of him and then ask him where he really got it.

“You knitted it?! You know how to knit?” You awed. Newt prepared himself for the embarrassment. “That is so adorable and neat!”

Newt looked at you in surprised. Did you just say it was adorable and neat? Newt flushed at the compliment. “I-it’s really nothing. M-my mum taught me how to knit when I was younger.”

You slipped the sweater over your thin shirt and smiled down at it. Newt looked at you. You looked so cute. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, and Queenie knew it. The sweater was loose and big on your body, but it still managed to look elegant.

The others opened their gifts, Newt got a water colored book on mythological creatures from Tina, you got an adorable tea cup set from Jacob, Queenie got new fabric for sewing from you, and Jacob got a new watch and pastry book from Queenie.

Once all the gifts were unwrapped, Queenie and Tina started preparing for breakfast, while Jacob made some special treats from his new book. Newt had taken you by the hands and led you into the tiny pantry, away from the noise but in ear shot in case you two were needed.

“Newt,” you said smiling up at him. “I love my sweater. It… It smells like you!” You blurted out.

Newt, who was still holding both your hands panicked, “Oh I am so sorry! I swear I washed it! I don’t know why it smells like me, I am really sorry!” Newt’s face was filled with worry, as he look so apologetic.

“No no!” You hastily said, trying to calm the frantic Newt. “It smells like you, yes… But it smells good. It smells a bit like cinnamon.” You let go of Newt’s hand to pull up the turtle neck and inhale it.

“C-can I—will you allow me to hug you?” Newt questioned. He almost sounded like he was begging like an adorable puppy.

You looked at him, blinking. Then you threw your arms around Newt’s neck and pulled him in for a big hug. Newt wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, smiling to himself.

You inhaled Newt’s scent. He smelled faintly of cinnamon and cloves. “You smell nice,” you said, running your hand through Newt’s hair.

Newt tensed up at the touch, but soon relaxed, as you methodically rubbed his head and gently combed his hair with your hand. Your head rested perfectly in the crook of Newt’s neck. Newt buried his face in your neck and you gave a giggle. “This is a great Christmas!” You said smiling, as Newt rubbed small circles on your back with his thumb.

You were startled apart by Queenie opening the door to the pantry. “Oh, am I interrupting something?” She said, looking mildly surprised and at the same time not.

Newt chuckled, but his face was red. “Not at all, Queenie!”

Queenie grabbed the sugar and waved her hand elegantly. “Don’t mind me, love birds!”

She left you and Newt just staring at each other. A small smile crept into Newt’s face. “Can I have another hug?” Newt requested.

You smirked back. “Only if you teach me how to knit,” you decided, grinning at shy man.

“It’s a deal, Y/N,” Newt agreed, wrapping you up in another warm hug. “Merry Christmas, Y/N…”

10

And you? Why did you choose to love a God? I think you’ll find the romance one sided. […Do you enjoy provoking me?] You’ve dedicated your life to the Gods. Zeus, God of Thunder. Athena, Goddess of Wisdom. You serve them? [Yes, of course.] And Aries? God of War? Who blankets his bed with the skin of men he’s killed? […All the Gods are to be feared and respected.

FOLLOW SPREE!!! ♥

Back on Tumblr and all the blogs i followed hadn’t been active and my interest changed latly. So i need new content and awesome people an my dash! 

if you post/reblog:

- Yuri!!! on Ice
- Fullmetal Alchemist
- Harry Potter
- Inuyasha
- Parks and Recreation
- Akame ga kill
- Videogames
- Tokio Ghul
- Sailor Moon
- Attack on Titan
- Good Anime in general, so I maybe can find something new. (;

It would be nice, if you have a tagging system and you don’t have to be content creator or follow me, I’ll check out your blog anyways,

Please like or reblog (you can tag your fandoms) and i will check out your blog! If mutuals would reblog this to spread the word, it would be very nice ♥

If you see my art anywhere, reposted or stolen, please send me a message immediately telling me about it. I’ve noticed a few of my hiccstrid sketches have been stolen again and are making their rounds around the internet. Some even have other blogs names thrown over the top of it >:I

I make my living off of my art. Literally. I’m a freelance artist so everything I post online helps future clients find me. And by reposting my art without mentioning me, or just straight up stealing it and posting your name on top of it, you are stealing potential business from me and in turn money that I need to live. It’s actually a business for me, so it is illegal to steal/repost my art as it is copyright to me/my company.

So PLEASE tell me if you see someone stealing/reposting my art. And if you can, ask them to take it down immediately. Please and thank you! ~<3

Heartbreak Warfare/It’s Hammer Time

Imagine Demon Dean escapes Sam’s trap and finds you, but can’t bring himself to kill you… Request for @queen-sands. ***repost from my old SPN blog***

Dean x Reader

Warnings: violence, demonic possession, strangulation, language, brief sexual content

Y/N, get in your room and lock yourself in. I’m outside, and I have him. Go. Now.” You looked down at the text from Sam, spoon stuck in your mouth, the gallon of chocolate chip ice cream halfway to the freezer. Your eyes got wide. You hadn’t expected Sam to find Dean so soon. I mean, you knew you’d been looking for months, but just yesterday you’d had no idea where he was, and now he was here?


You hightailed it back to the room you’d been crashing in for the last several weeks, and locked the door behind you, ice cream forgotten and left to melt on the kitchen counter. You weren’t a hunter. You wanted no part of wrangling Demon Dean into the trap set up in the dungeon. You slid a chair under your doorknob, for good measure. You kind of felt like a sissy, leaving Sam to do the work himself, but you hadn’t signed up for Demon duty. You’d agreed to tracking duty. You’d get your ass seriously hurt, or killed, tangling with a Demon, and would be useless.


With Charlie off gallivanting in Oz somewhere, Sam had gone for the next best thing when he’d needed help when Dean had gone missing a few months ago- you. You were one of Charlie’s closest friends, and skilled with hunting people down on the web. You’d helped the guys out a few times before, and you’d always been fond of them, especially Dean. You’d been pretty sure he’d held the same feelings for you, back when he wasn’t Crowley’s bitch, sporting a pair of black eyes, and partying it up across the USA with a distinct lack of morals. You’d only shared one awkward New Year’s Eve kiss at a Star Wars themed party Charlie had dragged the boys to, but you knew Dean had eyes for you. When Sam had called, you’d seriously considered saying no, but he’d sounded so alone and desperate, and it was Dean.

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@seraferi

REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

NAME OF YOUR CHARACTER: bellamy blake

ONE PICTURE YOU LIKE BEST OF YOUR CHARACTER: i have too many, but this will forever be one of my faves:

TWO HEADCANONS YOU HAVE FOR YOUR CHARACTER THAT YOU NEVER TOLD ANYONE:

i have no headcanons that i haven’t told anyone because i always tell someone lol. here are a couple i haven’t really posted on my blog much:

  • spiders freak him out. i mean, he’ll kill them or go through them or whatever he has to do, but he finds them creepy. both in canon and modern. i mean, in canon it makes sense, as they’re seeing bugs for the first time. but in modern, he’s just being a baby.
  • when he knew aurora would be home late (*cough*sleeping with a guard*cough*), he wouldn’t make octavia go to the floor during the regular time she normally did. he’d let her sleep in his bed with him instead, often staying awake to keep track of the time so she could go back in the floor before mom got home.

THREE THINGS THAT YOUR CHARACTER LIKES DOING IN THEIR FREE TIME:

  • reading
  • target practice
  • brooding

SEVEN PEOPLE THAT YOUR CHARACTER LOVES/LIKES:  

  • forever as number one, octavia blake
  • clarke griffin
  • marcus kane
  • monty green
  • harper mcintyre
  • raven reyes
  • nathan miller
  • honorable mention to jasper jordan because bellamy still cares for him

TWO THINGS YOUR CHARACTER REGRETS:

  • following pike (aka getting lincoln killed)
  • taking o to that dance

TWO FEARS YOUR CHARACTER HAS:

  • octavia’s death
  • not being able to save his people (aka no longer having a purpose)

TAGGED BY: no one, i found it in a meme tag.
TAGGING: @retributiions, @basiicphysics, @leaderbcrn, @headstrongblake, @surviivethis, @redempticnarc, @seraferi, @noulaikkwelnes, @kingroun

8

Should I be putting a tongue depressor in your mouth, right about now? We’re moving. What?! Tomorrow. What are you TALKING about? I’m talking about you and me going out, getting a paper, and finding a new place to live! But, I– 

NO BUTS! Ten o'clock tomorrow morning, I want you up, washed, moussed, and ready to leave. END OF STORY! Now, go back to bed…What? I need the music on to sleep.

INSPIRATION TIME!

[ Repost and list 5 songs that inspire you to write your muse! ]

Tagged by stolen from: @princeofdarkmount
Tagging: @thesoundlessvoid, @iteru, @roseusregina@cybertronianwyvern, @airanddarkness, @ask-comm-tech-req, @heligooddeals, @seeker-nightfall

Iron - Within Temptation
Raised in this madness
You’re on your own
It makes you fearless, nothing to lose
Dreams are a joke here
They get in your way
That’s what you need to fight day by day

Who Will Save You Now - Les Friction
I will not take from you
And you will not owe
I will protect you from the fire below
It’s not in my mind
It’s here at my side
Go tell the world that I’m still alive

Bulletproof - Evans Blue
How does it feel? 
What does it mean to you?
Your heart is real
It isn’t bulletproof

Tenth Man Down - Nightwish
Today I killed
He was just a boy
Eight before him
I knew them all
In the fields a dying oath
I’d kill them all to save my own

Crown of Thorns - Pearl Jam (Mother Love Bone cover)
I wanna tell you that I love you
Oh, but does it really matter
I just can’t stand to see you dragging down again
Again

I’m literally sitting here in awe of this person that just stole my art for their page???

I’m not sorry for reporting it??At all?? It took me two seconds to find myself through reverse image search from their post so I’m not sure what they’re talking about there. And to sass me by saying thank you for reporting it?? Completely not sorry, the credit you gave wasn’t even correct and your attitude doesn’t make me feel bad at all. Esp trying to bribe me by saying “but look how much attention it got!!!” . And I saw all /NONE/ of that feedback until someone told me that you’d reposted it.Your message only proves how little you care about the art I made over the amount of traffic it would garner.

Like, am I just being an asshole??? Am I honestly in the wrong here? I mean it’s shit like this that kills my motivation to even post things when someones just going to take it and “credit” me while i sit around and think wow no one likes my work. I’m sorry I keep talking about this but just, what do you guys think??

  • *sees someone repost art/graphics*
  • me: i, as an artist who respects creative integrity and intellectual property, i am disgusted at how much you have copied me! do you not have any respect for originality??? you're a laughing stock. it's cheesy, it's disgusting, i personally find it artistically atrocious.
THIRTEEN STANZAS FOR SARAH WINCHESTER WHO I THINK I UNDERSTAND (1/30)

Respectfully, I ask you not to repost or reblog.

After she lost her baby, Sarah Winchester went a little mad.
I think I understand her: the heiress of gunshot fortune,
her boarded-up head, her heart: a room with no windows and doors.
Her daughter lost somewhere in a cupboard she could not reach.

I think I understand you, Sarah of the gunshot fortune,
who could buy her daughter anything except breath, a voice,
lost her daughter somewhere in a closet. She could not reach
her, could not find her, found a medium to channel her.

Sarah, who could buy another daughter, with breath and voice,
but wanted her Annie, her blue-lipped lily, her swaddled stillness,
Could not find her, found a medium to channel her, instead,
given an omen: the ghosts of those killed by a Winchester rifle—

not your Annie, not your blue-lipped lily, her swaddled stillness—
these spirits will follow you into the dirt, lead you to your baby.
This promise of ghosts, those killed by a Winchester trigger,
shrouded the last of Sarah’s lucidity like a sparrow buried in a shoebox.

These spirits
will follow you into the dirt, lead you to your baby.
She hired every carpenter in the city, every man with two good hands
to build upon the last of her lucidity, like a sparrow caged in a shoebox.
To evade the bulleted ghost, the holy mirages with no beginnings and no ends.

Sarah hired every carpenter in the city, men with one or two good hands
to work all day and all night on her swelling mansion. The purpose:
to evade the ghosts, with rooms like mirages with no beginnings and no ends,
staircases that lead to nowhere, doors that opened to brick.

They work all day and all night on the swollen mansion. The purpose:
38 years of building, nonstop, cabinets that could be pulled out forever,
staircases that don’t lead but follow, nowhere doors, opening bricks.
A wall covered in a thousand keys. A room with five doors and one exit.

38 years of building, nonstop, Sarah’s inheritance pulled out forever.
I recognize her grief; how she bottled it, hid up a chimney with no smoke.
Made it a wall with a thousand keyholes. A room with five doors and no exit.
She became just another ghost at home, another wanderer of walls.

Her grief: the medicine with no bottle, the chimney with no smoke.
She demanded thirteen rooms, thirteen locks, her will written in thirteen parts,
We both became ghosts—lost and at home among the wandering walls,
counting thirteen panes on each window, thirteen crashing chandeliers.

Thirteen rooms, thirteen locks, her will written in thirteen parts.
Signed her name thirteen times sarah sarah sarah sarah.
Counted thirteen steps to each window, thirteen crashing chandeliers,
sarah sarah another candle goes out sarah sarah sarah.

Signed her name thirteen times sarah sarah sarah sarah,
roaming the halls of nowhere and never, whispering her baby back:
annie annie another candle goes out annie annie annie. 
Sarah, I lost myself once, like your Annie, your baby. I became a labyrinth,

let a man roam my hallways with his nowhere and never. See, my baby
had an angry hunger, loved me like a snakebite and I let him.
I lost myself, Sarah, like Annie, my baby, he built me a labyrinth,
left me to wander, a thousand keyholes, a hundred steps away

from his angry hunger, my snakebite lover. Sarah, I let him.
My baby made me lose myself, and I too went a little mad,
left to wander my thousand keyholes, my hundred steps,
my head boarded-up, my heart: a room with no windows and doors.

Reposting this for Anon, because I'm an idiot and realized tumblr showed who submitted it.

Hello! So here’s a little fanfic I wrote about Solavellan. I’d prefer to remain anonymous, if that’s possible. Also, including the disclaimer would be greatly appreciated! Love your blog, you’re awesome. :) Solas kills me everyday inside. 

DISCLAIMER:

- I wrote this fanfic based on my own interpretation of the Mythal/Fen’Harel ending with my first Lavellan character as the inquisitor. If you don’t agree, that’s fine, it’s just my own thoughts.

- Totally SFW unless you find kissing NSFW. 

- Kind of angsty but also kind of cheesy. I couldn’t decide so I did both.

- I took some liberties with in-game content vs. this ending. One big difference is the reaction of Cole to pain. I kind of liked the idea of Cole being forced to feel the pain of those he around him. (Is that mean?)

- The use of the elven language was a bit difficult to do. So I tried to my best to make it work with the internet help I found. If it’s not right, sorry?

-OH GOD I JUST NEEDED A HAPPY SOLAVELLAN ENDING SO I MADE IT MYSELF BECAUSE SWEET ANDRASTE I’M IN LOVE WITH A HOBO EGG APOSTATE.

Enjoy!

Revas (Freedom)

Dodge.
Jump.
Roll.
Repeat.

Its hand stomped down with such a heavy impact that ancient glassware shattered and splintered. Between its legs, the door mocked her like a cake left unattended.

“Oh, by the gods.” And she dove for the door.

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