it's been at least six months since i last drew anything

Four Weddings and a Blizzard: Chapter 2

Written for Day 3 of the Jonsa 2017 Summer Challenge hosted by @jonsa-creatives.  I chose the “Fixations” theme.


“I never did get that girl’s fixation with flannel,” groused Jon Snow.

Sansa Stark grinned.  “Come on, Jon,” she teased.  “You’re from Wisconsin.  Surely you understand the whole state’s fixated on flannel?”

Jon Snow rolled his eyes at her, and Sansa caught his lips turning upward for a fraction of a second before they reverted to their customary frown.

“Right,” he replied, “but she’s a lot more fixated than 99.9 percent of the state.”  He gestured in the general direction of the lake for emphasis, as if the water itself would turn to flannel on cue.

Sansa grinned again.  Her sister Arya had married Gendry Waters that afternoon on a plot of wooded land they owned in the forests of northern Wisconsin.  It was the last day of August, and a hint of autumn had colored the breeze that had ruffled the bride’s hair into her groom’s face as they had spoken their vows under a white wicker arch in front of the lake.  Gendry had outfitted his groomsmen, including Jon, in blue jeans and gray plaid flannel shirts at the behest of the bride, who had in turn chosen gray flannel shirtdresses for Sansa and the other bridesmaids.  Arya herself had worn an enormous gray-and-blue plaid flannel sash over her plain linen wedding gown and tied a matching strip around her bouquet.  The bridesmaids’ bouquets had been tied with strips of blue flannel, and the entire bridal party had spent the hours before the ceremony draping flannel cloths over the tables inside the white vinyl reception tent and tying pieces of flannel around Mason jars full of sunflowers.

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anonymous asked:

#15. "So, I found this waterfall…” Please. :D

Sorry, this took so long…I hope you like it! It’s different…

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Summary: For years, they were the voice in each other’s heads. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark find love and friendship through an unusual connection.

Katniss Everdeen was six when she first heard his voice.

Her father had just died, leaving her grief-stricken mother to be the head of their home and Katniss as her one-year-old sister’s caretaker. Immediately after the funeral, Deanna Everdeen was back in her waitress uniform, giving her daughters each a kiss atop their heads and letting them know that there were leftovers from the wake in their fridge.

It was a good thing that Prim was such an easy-going baby. Katniss could simply set out a blanket in the field behind their small home and let the toddler crawl about. She watched her sister for a moment; the blonde cherub giving her toothy smile before plopping herself on her knees to explore.

Laying back, Katniss’ eyes wandered to sky. Was her father in heaven? The minister had talked about her father being in heaven, regaling the mourners with Chris Everdeen’s many achievements as head of the District 12 engineering team. He was a great boss, a loving husband, and doting father.

She guessed that didn’t mean anything when death came swooping in.

Katniss couldn’t cry out loud so she let herself sob and scream in her mind until she felt raw.

Why are you crying?

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Like You’ve Been to War

Rain fell in curtains throughout the streets of Central.

A solid covering of dark gray clouds had rolled in the previous morning. They’d crackled first, rumbled distantly, and finally released their store in a nonstop deluge of rain. All day, through the night, and into the next morning. Puddles filled the alleyways, and most streets ran like rivers.

Mustang watched the sheets fall from the third floor break room in Central Headquarters. It was a room roughly half the size of his office, with two plush blue couches, an armchair, and a large wooden table with two desk lamps on top. He was seated at the table, his files scattered over top. Fullmetal lay on the farthest couch, his left hand wrapped around the book he’d propped against his knee, his bound right arm dangling over the couch’s side.

“It’s a real shame, you know. There’s a bagel shop about two blocks from here I usually like to go to for lunch. Guess that’s not an option today.” Roy tapped his pen to a document. He got the ink flowing before filling out his weekly report in the tight, blank lines. “I suppose I could send the Lieutenant there for us, but that would mean voluntarily giving up our only body guard. So it would be at the risk of us getting killed. On the other hand, they really are good bagels.”

Ed looked up from his book. His mouth was drawn into a tight line, eyes bothered. “And how’s that gonna make you feel when your tomb stone reads ‘Here lies Mustang, killed by Scar because he really wanted a bagel’?”

“Nonsense. It would say, ‘Here lies Mustang, died in a heroic battle with Amestris’s most dangerous serial killer.’”

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Quiet Places to Read

For @cassiopeiasara, who wanted a Laura/Bill library fic. I hope you like it :)

Everyone thinks it’s the books that drew Laura to the library, but it’s not at all. She loves the books, but it’s the quiet that appeals to her. After eight years in Adar’s cabinet, one year in intensive treatment for breast cancer, and six months trying to figure out how to live again when she’d all but given in to dying, all she wants anymore is a quiet place where she can keep her head down, do her job, and not have anyone demanding anything more from her than a reference number.

She hasn’t seen anyone from Secretary Roslin’s life since the day she walked out of the Caprica City government complex. Richard hasn’t bothered to try to reach her, even when it became obvious that her resignation for “health reasons” was, in fact, for health reasons. Wally has called, keeps calling, but she just can’t stand the thought of talking to him.

It’s not the first time she’s done this, withdrawn from her previous life. This time, though, it’s a lot easier. None of her friends from before the accident have called her in years, except for Marcie, and Marcie knows well enough to give her space when she needs it. Every day when she gets home, she looks at her phone and tells herself to dial Marcie’s number. Every day, she pours a glass of wine instead.

Quiet. She needs quiet. Just for a little while longer, while she figures out who this new Laura Roslin is.

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just going through my notes and reading old headcanons and stuff from this summer and i stumbled across this little gem and i felt like i’d share with you lil cute humans

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Once Four, Now Two

Summary:  What if Adrien had grown up with a loving family?  What if Adrien had an older brother named Félix who had loved Adrien with all his heart?  What if Félix was the Chat Noir before Adrien?

Word Count: 6,237

Rating: K

AN: Kind of based off this (http://kellyykao.tumblr.com/post/139468457582/ill-do-anything-to-protect-my-little-brother-my) post.  Special thanks to @hella–helena for being my awesome beta-reader!  Without her, this would never have gotten published.  Enjoy!  

You can also read it on Ao3 or FF.net


Everyone knew that Adrien Agreste was a model.  If they dug a little deeper, they would know that Adrien Agreste was the son of the famous fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste.  Then, if they dug even deeper, they would know that Adrien Agreste had recently joined the Françoise Dupont high school.  They would know that he was a perfect student and received perfect grades, even while any spare time he had was taken up by modeling, fencing, piano, or private Chinese lessons.  

What they would never know was that Adrien Agreste once had a brother.  And that his brother’s name had been Félix.

Once upon a time, before becoming famous, Gabriel Agreste had been a happy man.  He lived with his wife and two sons in a modest house out on the outskirts of Paris, and even though they didn’t have much money, he was content.  He was married to the most beautiful woman in the world and was pleased to say that both of his sons had inherited her golden hair and startling green eyes.   

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Nothing Good Happens After 1 AM

Here’s a little post breakup fic for you all! Apologizing in advance if this is awful! Still new to the whole writing thing. Feel free to like/reblog/send me some anon love for it, because it’d be extremely appreciated! Ok, on with the story:

Word Count: 2522

Warnings: angst, drinking, cursing

(Gif below not mine!)

Originally posted by acklesjensen

You slid your fingertips along the condensation that had formed on the outside of your beer bottle. You were nervous, to say the least. You hadn’t spoken to your friend Sam in almost six months. You had missed him like crazy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see him after your messy breakup with Dean. Those two had such similar ways of acting you just knew you couldn’t put yourself through the pain… until now. Sam had managed to figure out you were doing a hunt in Pennsylvania and left you a voicemail saying that if you were ready to see him, he’d be at this bar tonight at 9 o’clock. The bar was a block away from the motel you were staying at, and you couldn’t help but doubt that was a coincidence. It was now 8:45, and you told yourself if he wasn’t here by exactly 9 you were leaving. You didn’t know how you were going to get through this, but your third beer was helping settle your nerves a little bit.

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David Duchovny: Mulder and Scully bury the hatchet and start unearthing secrets again

Relations used to be cold, but the actor says he now has fun with his co-star Gillian Anderson. Though he has to admit he forgot about their baby

Rosie Kinchen Published: 7 February 2016 The Sunday Times

THERE are only two reasons to go to Hollywood Boulevard: to see the stars or to buy drugs. David Duchovny fans can now do both at once. His star on the Walk of Fame (the 2,572nd), which I watched being unveiled two weeks ago, sits in the midst of the dope dealers and a few feet from the Smoke House, a shop specialising in hookah pipes, vaping kit and anything you might need to satiate the munchies.

I realise how fitting this is when I meet Duchovny in a Los Angeles hotel a little later on. I find a man so monosyllabic and monotone that he appears either to have been smoking heavily or to be on the brink of falling asleep. In fact he is just tired.

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