alone-at-my-windowsill asked:

Hey, do you have any good marauder/Jily ao3 fic recommends? Thank you xxx

i’ve had a look in my ao3 history etc, looks like most jily fics i read are on ffnet but i found a few for you:

that’s about all i could find (mainly because most ao3 jily fics are wolfstar-centric and i don’t really ship that much), let me know if there’s anything obvious i’ve missed! :)

Coffee Candy - Eisuke Ichinomiya

Summary: He owed her a lifelong debt. Little did she know that it all started with a piece of candy. Childhood friend AU.

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Pairing: MC/Eisuke

a/n: Man, it’s been a while since I wrote. School has been keeping me so busy, but I’m glad I managed to come up with this! I hope you guys enjoy it. This is for the otome contest 2015!


Eight years old.

               She had no idea how they became friends.

               She supposed it all started one day at school, when the teacher had been giving out candy as a reward for finishing the class play.  Luckily for her, she got a piece coffee candy, her most favorite one.

              Unwrapping the little treat, she was about to gobble up the sweet until she noticed someone sulking at the back of the classroom. She could feel the waves of Eisuke’s sullen mood from where she stood. The arrogant little heir was too pigheaded to participate in ‘stupid group activities’ like the class play, so he was the only one who didn’t get any candy.

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My first fic in…7 years? I’m not a fic writing gal. Enjoy? And please reblog if you do.


      When Alcor feels the pull of a summoning for the first time in weeks, it’s hilariously weak. No candles, no sacrifice, a circle that’s more of a scribble, and some painfully mangled Latin combine to make a call that almost slips by him and he’s extremely reluctant to answer. Not because he thinks he won’t get much out of it— though he’s sure that’s the case— more for the affront of it. This person tries to summon Alcor the Dreambender and can’t even put in the effort to light some tea candles or something? Yet expects it to work?

    He can feel the will of the summoner though, and that, that is surprisingly strong. It almost makes up for the rest of the horrible summon. Almost.

    On any other day he’d ignore it, but he’s been going through a dry spell lately in terms of people summoning him, and that’s left him hopelessly, intolerably bored. If anything, he can pop in to see whoever was incompetent enough to use Alcor me te phonem as the first words in their incantation and por favorus as their last, and laugh, flagrantly and unapologetically, in their face.

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Fic: Untitled

“You played amazing, Balth!” Ben tripped up where the rug of the shop met the wood floor of the staging area. Beatrice hauled him up straight and shot Balthazar an apologetic smile.

“Hah, thanks,” Balthazar ducked his head. It had been a good gig. A really good gig. He couldn’t quite just wrap his mind around it yet.

“Tell Pedro we’re taking you both for chips, yeah?” Ben didn’t look like he could take anyone anywhere, if Balth was being honest. His friend looked exhausted- bags under his eyes with his girlfriend practically holding him up and wait-

Balthazar looked up from his guitar case. “Huh? Pedro?”

“Pedro. About this high.” Beatrice held up her hand. “Remember him?” She looked past Balthazar. “Was he not behind stage with you?”

“I haven’t seen him all morning,” Balthazar said, slowly, delicately, more for his benefit than theirs, trying to ignore the voice in his head. Pedro wasn’t there. Pedro hadn’t shown up to his gig.

Men have always been deceivers.

“Balth! I’m really sorry, Ben and I were editing into the morning and I crashed there and then by the time I dragged myself back to the house, I just-”

“It’s all right.” Balthazar had to focus on his smile. Just the right smile that swore that the situation was ‘okay’ and ‘not a big deal’ instead of the one that read false.

Men have always been deceivers, he thought to himself with a twisted sense of irony, as he assured Pedro that it was fine, that he’d have other gigs, that they would eventually talk.


sloth fic for narrytitty 😈

London zoo hold many diverse creatures who are all adored by people of all ages who enter these gates.

sloths happen to be be some of those creatures and are very popular, especially with younger visitors. The sloth exhibit has about 16 sloths in this habitat which is a number fit for them to find their pair.

one pair in particular is Niall and Harry. yes, these two are both male which would be rather peculiar for the nature of animals, but they were content in each other’s company.

Harry sloth happened to be pregnant with Niall sloths baby sloth because during September it was mating season as well as Nialls birthday, so they decided to celebrate at this time, as they were more socially aware than other sloths.

Harry was very tired because of this and decided to spend a day laying down on a branch, being lazier than most sloths. Niall made sure to provide Harry with enough leaves using his claws and came back to Harry, feeding him with care.

Harry and Niall are expecting a little slothling in the near future.

What Happened In Vegas .36

I apologize for the long wait. I’m really sorry. I hope to make up for it with this chapter that’s supposed to let us all take a deep breath. Please know that your never-ending awesomeness rocks my world. I can’t thank you enough for the continued support and love you’re sending my way. You’re amazing. Thank you.

Albiona, you make me see (mostly green) rainbows. Thank you.

April 11th, 2013

Eternity lasted twenty minutes—plus/minus a few minutes.

Sitting in that booth at Big Belly Burger had felt like forever, much longer than it had actually been. It had also been horrible, sure, but mostly it had been an eye-opener. Witnessing Thea being confronted with the gun-swinging robber had made Felicity see her sister-in-law pretty clearly. The way her hands shook, the wild look in her eyes, the strained aggressiveness, the wiggly tension—all of that combined to clear signs of withdrawal. As much as Felicity wished she could pretend differently, there was no way around the truth. Thea needed help, professional help, better help than she or Oliver or Moira or anybody who cared about her could give her.

The mission today was to get Thea what she needed.

The heaviness in her bones proved that Felicity needed this mission as much as her sister-in-law did. She hadn’t found any sleep last night. Worried thoughts had kept her awake, had caused her to toss and turn in her bed until Oliver had popped up on his elbow next to her and demanded she talked to him.

The result had been a rambled mess revolving around Thea being addicted and John breaking his own heart.

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theimaginarywholockian asked:

I have never shipped Billdip really but this scenerio that came up in a jumbled dream was too cute not to share. I guess it was human!Bill and older!Dipper? Bill was goofing around and put Dipper's glasses on and suddenly said, "WOAH. PINETREE. You can see EVERYTHING!" And that's how they found out that Bill had crappy eyesight. Not sure if I should question Dipper having glasses in the first place but there it is.

Aww this is so cute!  You must have the cutest dreams!  But seriously, Bill I don’t give a fuck if your true form is a one eyed dorito, you need glasses

Thanks for this cute idea!

(I’ll try to draw/write this later if you don’t mind!)

-Admin Cryptical

anonymous asked:

Adoribull Prompt Sunday - mischief managed

Harry Potter AU yo Dorian is sweet seventeeeeeen


“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Dorian grumbles, stuck between the marble wall and Bull. Their stomachs are actually pressing together and it would be impressive how stuck they are if they weren’t, you know, actually stuck.

Bull sighs, mumbles something that Dorian doesn’t quite catch.

It’s past midnight and they really shouldn’t be walking through the halls, much less between walls when any of the ghosts loitering around can catch them by accident. By ghosts Dorian means specifically Peeves, who has been targeting Dorian for some reason excessively this week. The Baron had to intervene two times already and Dorian sincerely hopes it keeps him away.

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Whouffaldi Fic: The Darkness Speaks, Has Eyes To See

Title: The Darkness Speaks, Has Eyes To See

Pairing: Whouffaldi (Twelve x Clara)

Genre: Romance (a nice word for smut), Hurt/Comfort

Rating: M / E 

Length: OneShot

Summary: After being bitten by a venomous creature Clara temporarily goes blind and relies on the Doctor to take care of her. But neither of them expected what impact the loss of her sight would have on the closeness of their relationship.

Read on FF.net or AO3

I dedicate this OneShot to janescoot59 who is still waiting for an update on Empire, which will come, but I was kind of having a Whouffaldi writer’s block and this fic was me, trying to overcome that. It wasn’t easy. I thought about quitting about 20 times during these roughly 7000 words but here it is. 

anonymous asked:

Number 8 Destiel please <33

“Wanna bet?”

Dean was never one to back down from a challenge, so when Cas said “You are not putting that ice cube down my shirt” he should have known this would be his response. Cas ducked and ran around the island counter, grabbing a wooden spoon to defend himself. With a grin, Dean dove over the counter, grabbing for Cas’ shirt and getting a light whack of the spoon against his shoulder.

“Oh, you’re really gonna get it now,” Dean laughed, chasing Cas through the house. He tackled him next to the couch, rolling on the floor for a few minutes before managing to stuff the partially melted cube down the back of Cas’ pants. He squealed, digging it out and tossing it across the room.

They lay there panting for a few minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms, then Cas turned to him with a smug smile, “Told you the ice wasn’t going in my shirt.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, realizing the mistake he made. “The next one will,” he said, heading for the kitchen as Cas’ made a run for the bedroom.


It Happened like a Firefly’s Light

Harry stood there in the moonlight with his arms wrapped around Louis as the older lad swayed them in front of the building’s door, not sure what to say to him, how to explain himself. But at the same time all Harry could think was that friends don’t do this, two people working together can’t do this. At this point though he couldn’t care less about what he was told he couldn’t do. So before he let go of the man in his arms and without thinking he dipped his head and gently pressed his lips to Louis’ cheek, making the older lad freeze before he grinned softly to himself. 

 “Goodnight Lou.” 

 And before Louis could mutter anything back, before he could ask another question Harry released himself out of Louis’ grip and walked towards the door of his building, but not without hearing a quiet “goodnight Haz” behind him.


Harry Styles. It was a name everyone knew, a person the public loved. But he had one impossible task. Write and record his third album in a month. This is where Louis Tomlinson comes in. He wasn’t famous, not by any means. But this songwriter was going to make Harry’s album possible. That is if fans, the media and falling in love don’t get in the way first.

Hi my name is Ebony Inertia Hydroponics Raven Bell Countess Flanner and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Yoko Tsuno (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). [[I’m not related to Jamie Bell but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie.)) I’m British but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a genius, and I go to a smart people school called Bande Dessinee in Belgium where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen).
I’m a scientist (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly inflammable science clothes. I love Discovery Channel and I watch all their documentaries and wear sciencey clothes. For example today I was wearing a white lab coat with matching lace around it and a black lead apron that protects you from radiation but I made it look cute and also hot, pink plastic gloves that are like the ones doctors use (but designer gloves) and black combat boots. I was wearing red lipstick I made myself with my science, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow (which I bought from Paris). I was walking outside Bande Dessinee. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of jocks stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.
—  The Memoirs of Miss Flanner
Happy birthday, Bakagami!

A/N: Ah, this is so late!!! I was supposed to post this earlier in the day but things happened. But, anyway, happy belated birthday to my baby tiger!!!


Taiga was feeling a little disappointed, really.

Kuroko and the rest of his team only just left his apartment not ten minutes ago, and Taiga was supposed to feel elated because this year he got to spend his birthday with friends, opposed to hanging out alone like he had last year. He’d even gotten a few gifts, and Mitobe had been kind enough to bake him a cake.

But, looking at his phone and seeing he had no missed calls or messages, the redhead couldn’t help but feel slightly melancholy. Because he had hoped he’d at least get a text message saying ‘happy b-day!’ from a certain someone. This “certain someone” being Aomine Daiki.

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six sentence sunday

They claim it’s some kind of homage to the original series, no doubt one that has gone completely over his head but will have Karl babbling about it for weeks, but he’s pretty sure that the costume designers just have it out for the CGI guys. That, or they find a sick pleasure in coming up with new ways to mortify him. He knows that he shouldn’t be embarrassed but it’s hard not to be; the wetsuits had been revealing but these pants are simply obscene.

Chris had been dubious when they had first told him he’d be wearing a wetsuit; by the time the wardrobe department had helped him wrangle one on, he’d hated them. Looking down at the fire engine red spandex track pants he’s wearing now, he almost misses the wetsuit. Rumor has it they’d had to do some creative editing in post because it had been too distracting, something he can neither confirm nor deny – as if seeing his face on a giant screen isn’t bad enough, his eyes weren’t exactly drawn to his own nether region.

anonymous asked:

11, destiel :)

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

Dean brushed the snow out of his hair, reaching down to scoop up a clump and make his own. “Oh it’s on now!” 

He pegged Cas in the chest, laughing as it splattered against the tan coat. Another one hit him in the shoulder and now they were both running, swooping down every few minutes to grab another clump of snow to throw at each other. It went on until they were both out of breath and collapsed onto the ground. “How many did I land?” Dean asked.

“17. What about me?”

“22. Damn, I thought for sure I’d be able to beat you at that.”

“Perhaps it was beginners luck,” Cas smiled.

Dean rolled over, kissing him gently. “Wanna learn how to make a snow angel?”


Malec Week 2015– Day 2

“Into the Future”

Maxwell Joseph Lightwood II

Max had a problem with wandering.

Both physically and mentally. Usually both at once and tonight was no exception.

His mom liked to tell him that it started when he first started crawling. He’d get lost in the Institute and be found hours later, asleep under a table or something.

Then again, she liked to tell stories. He liked to listen to them, especially the ones where she was saving the world alongside his uncles and Aunt Clary. She had a tendency to over-tell the stories about his dad though, so they were less interesting and overly romantic.

When Max came back to reality after an immeasurable amount of time trapped in his brain, he was on a subway to Brooklyn. Which was odd, considering he was a born-and-raised Manhattan kid.

He was escaping his life in Manhattan though. That much he had decided.

Fleeing to Brooklyn was like going to another world with thicker accents and more hipster chic.

That was basically Uncle Magnus, Max thought.

When he asked where Uncle Magnus was from, he got a 800 year history. It was incredibly boring and he lost track. He had an international accent, a blend of European bulkiness, American twang, and Asian speed. He probably spoke a thousand languages, including the demonic ones. That fascinated Max.

He wanted that for himself. He wanted the suaveness and sophistication of the great Magnus Bane.

But at the moment, he couldn’t even handle being a teenager.

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