not my best but the idea has been bothering me for a while

Laurel’s Guide to Grimoires

A while back I made a post about how I organize my Grimoire/Book of Shadows and for a long time since then I’ve wanted to a sort of 101 for creating a Grimoire/Book of Shadows. Be warned, this will be a long post! As always, this is merely my opinion, my word is not law.

(UPDATED 4/24/17; All updates are marked)

Originally posted by ephemeralsyzygy

-The Grimoire Basics-

What is a Grimoire?

As my own personal definition, a Grimoire is simply any book used by a witch in his/her/their own personal practice. There is no limit as to what a Grimoire can or cannot be, as each one is as unique as the witch who wrote it.

How do I use a Grimoire?

A grimoire is used to document, or keep track of, any magickal information that is relevant to the practitioner.It serves to log everything you need to know in your own personal craft. 

-Types of Grimoires-

These are my own personal “styles” of grimoires that I have made over the years. These are not the only “kinds” of grimoires, merely suggestions.

- “Textbook” Grimoire: This is a grimoire that is set up to serve as a reference book, a book strictly for spiritual or magickal information. 

- “Practical” Grimoire: This is a grimoire that can serve a practical purpose, such as a recipe or spell book. Often more portable than a standard grimoire.

- “Inspirational” Grimoire: These are often called inspiration journals. They are filled with spiritual images, quotes and writings to serve as a sort of “bible.”

- “Memory Keeping” or “Journal” Grimoire: This is a grimoire that serves to be a personal record of thoughts and feelings pertaining to spiritual activity in your life. 

-Grimoire Keeping Methods-

- Blank bound or spiral bound Notebooks
    - I’ve actually seen someone tape composition notebooks together to get             a “thick” book.
- Recycled or used hard/soft cover books
- Binders
- OneNote/Tumblr/Internet
- Computer Folder/Flash Drive/Memory Card

-How to make a Grimoire-

I recommend that if you are starting a grimoire or are a relatively new witch, don’t even bother buying a nice, expensive, fancy journal. Most of the time (unless you’ve already done one or two grimoires before and you know exactly what you’ll be putting in this grimoire), that book will sit on a shelf and collect dust. Many new witches get excited to have a “fancy” grimoire and then become terrified of “messing up” in it which results in that book never being used. We’ve all been there, done that.

That being said, here are the basic steps I followed when making my “permanent” grimoire.

- Decide on your Grimoire Keeping Method
 - Gather the information that you would like to put into your grimoire (this can sometimes take a very long time, it took me years), although if the “write as you go” method is more comfortable for you, then go ahead.
- Organize your information. If you’re a perfectionist like me, this might take a bit. It’s also completely natural to change up your organization style later on.
- Protect/Consecrate your Grimoire. This is completely optional, but it can also be a fun “witchy” way to bond with your grimoire.
- Put all your information in your book in anyway that you desire. I found it useful to “plan” out the book before I started writing in all the information. This way I knew exactly what pages were going where.
- Decorate your Grimoire. Also, completely optional. Some people like decorating with flowers and ribbons and pictures and stickers. Other people prefer straight to the point text. Either way works perfectly fine.

A quick note for those who suffer from the perfectionist complex: don’t sweat it. We all want our books to be “perfect” but after writing about six grimoires I’ve learned that grimoires really don’t ever become “permanent” because our preferences change as we grow. If you’re worried about it being perfect, starting “planning” pages in a cheap journal. Take note of any mistakes or things you want to change. You can always create another grimoire later. Don’t let that pesky perfectionism hold you back. And if you make mistakes, try to work with them and turn them into something else instead of scrapping your book to start over.

I used to dream of having a huge, Charmed-like Grimoire, and now I prefer the small, sloppy, scrap book, messy-writing kind of grimoire. Don’t sweat it.

Things to put in your Grimoire

- Correspondences
- Sabbats, Esbats and any Holidays you celebrate
- How to cast spells
- Spells and Rituals
- Divination
- Astrology
- Herbs and Recipes
- Crystals
- Topics you’d like to learn about later.

@cosmic-witch has a HUGE list of topics here

How to organize your Grimoire

This post details my own personal Grimoire Index. However the best way to organize your grimoire would be whatever works best for you. I personally like having everything divided into matching sections. However, if you write spells a lot, you may want spell writing notes in the front, while correspondences would be better in the back. It’s all up to personal preference. 

 Witchy-Woman’s Grimoire Organization

TripleVirgo’s Grimoire Index

 My Tips on Grimoire Organization

(UPDATED 4/24/17)

Other Grimoire Tips

- Intention Cheat Sheets. When you want to write a spell, nothing sucks more than having to flip back and forth all over your grimoire to find the information you need. My advice is to make “cheat sheets” for each of your intentions. Pick an intention, such as Money, and write down anything that corresponds to that (colors, herbs, moon phases or zodiac signs, crystals, incense, etc) this way the next time you want to do a spell for Money, you can just flip to your cheat sheet and be done. (UPDATED 4/24/17)

- Incognito Grimoire: Find a generic book that you like at a Goodwill or second hand shop. Write your witchcraft notes/correspondences in the margins and spacing. Use markers or crayons to draw pictures and symbols. You can also glue blank pages into the book so you have more space to write anything you want. This way your Grimoire can sit in plain sight on your bookshelf when you have company over and no one will be the wiser.

- So You Don’t Think You Can Grimoire: Tips and ideas for witches who struggle with the “My handwriting is terrible and I can’t draw” complex. (UPDATED 4/24/17)

- Scrapbook Altars

- Create a Magickal Memories Folder

This post will probably be a “masterpost” of sorts that I’ll continue to add to as the inspiration strikes. If anyone has any ideas or grimoire-related topics they’d like to see, feel free to share!

~L

4

@cheshirerabit said: Shit, your teacher Bakugou idea is something I never considered but now think would be really cool. Cuz he would not stop being a hero but he wouldn’t half-ass being a teacher so it would be like how All Might attempted to hero and teach but could actually work. Plus, I’m all for Bakugou’s role model switching with time to Aizawa. 10/10 idea.

Anon said: OMG Fran now i want to see Teacher or Older Bakugou or or Bakugou with Aizawa

Bless both of you for giving me a reason to talk about this cause honestly I love this idea way more than striktly necessary - this!!! is how I like to think it would go down:

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Hello - Newt x Reader

Prompt: A little drabble! Soulmate AU where everyone is born with the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrist. Reader is completely fed up with her quest to find her soulmate, as the only hint she has is the incredibly vague black letters that have always been stamped across her wrist.

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, use of alcohol, harassment and unwanted advances

God, you hated your soulmate tattoo.

What sort of a soulmate tattoo was “hello”? You had detested it your entire life. What vague-ass higher power had decided when they gave you your tattoo to stop at “hello”? How would you know for sure when you met your soulmate? Couldn’t they have elaborated a little bit? Just a few more words? A proper sentence that you could actually recognize your soulmate with? But no, you were stuck with the most common greeting in the English language tattooed permanently into your skin. Hello. What absolute bullshit.

Every time someone greeted you with that simple phrase, your eyes would narrow, you would square your shoulders, and you would spit back the most distinct and unmistakable response you possibly could. You were not going to be the soulmate couple that had “hello” on both of your wrists. Your lucky, lucky soulmate probably had something ridiculous, like “Whatever you say,” or “Did you know that a hippopotamus’s sweat is red?” because you absolutely had to stand out, and you made sure that your replies to “hello” always did. There was no other way to be sure that anyone and everyone who said “hello” to you wasn’t your soulmate.

What a useless tattoo.

All throughout your school years at Ilvermorny, you were completely embarrassed to show people your tattoo. Unfortunately, when your classmates found out, they had great fun sending people you had never spoken to before up to say “hello” to you.

Your reaction was always hilarious, so they kept doing it. Your responses ranged from “Go fuck yourself,” to “Nice try guys, but I’ve already spoken with her before,” to straight up punching one student right in the jaw when he got a little too friendly with his hands as he delivered his “hello”.

You started to feel a little bad for your actual soulmate as your replies increased in hostility. They probably had a particularly colorful quote of yours. “Go to hell,” perhaps, or maybe “Who the fuck put you up to it this time?”

When you graduated, your defensive nature had thankfully melted a little. You had switched to solely offering people fun animal facts whenever they said “hello” to you, and it was far less stressful. “Seahorse mates hold each other’s tails so they don’t lose each other,” was a favorite of yours, as was “Cows have best friends.”

One evening, you were at a bar with your roommates Queenie and Tina, and you were in no mood for advances from anyone. You had decided to date, as many people with soulmates do, just to pass time while you waited for your soulmate to arrive, but your recent significant other had found their soulmate and left you in the dust. It was incredibly depressing, and you just really wanted a drink.

A man waltzed up to you, sliding into the chair beside you and offering a hand to shake. “Hello,” he said with a grin. You looked over at him, as annoyed as you were drunk, and reached out to flip his arm over and look at his wrist.

“Alright, let’s get this over with I’m not in the mood to think of a fun fact,” you grumbled, pulling back his sleeve to look at his wrist.

It wasn’t really with disappointment that you read the words “I’m so sorry I ran over your dog,” in black ink on his wrist, and you patted his hand drunkenly.

“Good luck with that one, buddy,” you slurred, getting to your feet and heading toward the door. He blinked after you, bewildered, and then returned to his drink.

Such was a usual encounter for you, and by the time Tina dragged a certain magizooligist into your home, you were sick and tired of your goddamn animal facts.

“Queenie, (y/n)!” Tina called out to you. You peeked your head around the corner where you were helping Queenie mend dresses, and you saw with a pang of confusion that Tina had brought two men along with her.

Queenie voiced your amazement, grinning and chirping “Teenie! You brought men home!”

You approached your friend, not bothering with the fact that you were clad in only a slip, and you blinked at her in disbelief. “Who are they?”

“This is a no-maj, and this is Mr. Scamander. He’s responsible for his injuries,” Tina said wearily, pointing her finger at the sweaty, overwhelmed man who offered you a disoriented half-smile before fixing his gaze back on Queenie, who giggled.

Mr. Scamander gave you a little wave. “Hello,” he said.

You let out a slow puff of air, your frustration resurfacing as your hand shot forward to grab his wrist. “Merlin’s Beard, just show me the goddamn tattoo,” you grumbled without thinking. You were in total shock when you slipped his sleeve back and found yourself face-to-face with your own words.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he looked just as startled. A hush fell over the room, and you felt your face grow hot. “Sorry about that,” you mumbled apologetically, unable to drop your gaze from his.

“That’s quite alright,” he said softly, his lips twitching upward in a small smile. “It’s quite the conversation piece,” he teased, and you found yourself chuckling.

“You had better be worth all the trouble my ridiculous tattoo has caused,” you teased back. The other three people in the room were watching the two of you, completely taken aback.

“I think for the most part people usually find me to be more trouble than I am worth,” he confessed, his eyes sparkling.

You dropped his hand at last, your face red and your heart pounding with embarrassment. “We’ll see about that,”

This is such a silly idea but I had to write it down so here u go

def not my best work but I hope u enjoy!! I literally didn’t even proofread this so it’s probs full of errors and bad transitions but pls enjoy this dumb little drabble!! (two fics in two days, who am I and what have I done with puk)

Truth May Vary

Yes, hi, excuse me, passing through, dropping crap all over the fandom. 

Hi. So, I did the prompt! @pink-paladin-lance hope you like it, tho I didn’t made it as angsty bc I craved fluffiness and well, …yeah. Hope you like it anyways!

Ps. Long Post. So yeah! No warnings? Just mean aliens, psh. 

Nothing much to say? Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me and the idea come from @pink-paladin-lance (:

Edit: ….Did i fixed it the damn problem or? 


“Alright! Another win for Voltron!” Hunk shouts animatedly as he wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulder, shaking him as he cheers, “Did you guys see how Keith dodged that laser beam when one of the Galras tried to sneak up on him? Keith, buddy, that was amazing! You totally flipped them!”

Keith laughs as he takes off his helmet and brushes Hunk’s praise off. “What? No, come on! Are you kidding? Were you even present when your Lion completely crushed that rock and saved the entire village? Because I was and it was out of this planet, man.”

“Okay, guys, but I think I speak for everyone that the best part was when we formed Voltron and we completely destroyed that Robeast because Shiro’s plan was on point!” Pidge cuts in, grinning behind her shoulder to meet their leader, “If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, the battle would have taken a lot longer.”

Shiro chuckles from his place besides Allura and waves the compliments off with a hand. “No way. The plan was a success because your plants held the Robeast long enough for us to make a move, Pidge. You have been improving a lot since the day we found of about your Lion’s power.”

Lance watches from the sidelines as he stands besides Coran, a few feet away from the team. He smiles fondly as he hears them cheer and praise each other, their adrenaline and enthusiasm that always come from a winning battle still running through their blood.

“Wait, wait, but did you guys notice when Lance –” Keith’s sentence is suddenly cut off when the Prince of the Royal Family from the Kingdom they just saved clears his throat abruptly, catching everyone’s attention and making Keith’s proud grin to dim, replacing it with a frown.

“On behalf of my people and my Mother, I would like to express our gratitude towards the brave Paladins of Voltron who saved us today and forevermore, for it is their duty to defend and serve this Universe from the claws of evil.” The Prince says, voice high and powerful.

He stares into each of the Paladin’s eyes before they fall on Allura. “Princess Allura, please, as a thank you, allow us to escort you and the entire team to our Castle in order to present you an exquisite and well deserved banquet in your honor.”

Allura smiles and opens her mouth to respond but Lance’s voice beats her to it.

“Sure, dude!” He shouts happily, walking a few steps until he’s standing beside Allura and Shiro. “A banquet is always appreciated! I mean, Voltron really kicked some serious ass today if you know what I mean.” Lance can hear the way his team groan and chuckle at his words, too used to Lance’s cocky facade and he can feel Allura’s playful smack of her hand on his ribs.

Lance’s grin fades when the Price stares down at him unamused and something inside him drops unpleasantly.

“Blue…Paladin, of course.” The Prince says, a bore and uninterested tone on the back of his tone as he forces a rigid polite smile, “While I agree with you on the fact that Voltron surely won this battle by their own hands, I have to ask…”

He pauses, letting his words linger in the air as he takes a step towards Lance and clicks his tongue.

“Why are you on the team? I’m sure that your … talents, if you even have some, can be of much assistance back in the Castle.”

Lance’s smile falls and he hears the way someone behind him takes a sharp intake of breath but Lance doesn’t bother to turn around to found out who exactly.

“Well, I am the Blue Paladin. I have to be where the team is, of course.” Lance says, mouth twitching in what he hopes to be a smile but ends up being a grimace.

The Prince clicks his tongue once again and shakes his head as if in disappointment. “Ah, my apologies, Blue Paladin. I had just assumed that you were just filling the spot for the time being until the true Blue Paladin claimed the title.”

Lance doesn’t need to turn around to know what’s happening behind his back. He can feel the tense air that has settled on the team. He can hear the hard shallow pants from Hunk’s end as the Yellow Paladin tries to suppress the urge to lunge at the Prince. He can hear the soft faint sound of Shiro’s arm activating itself along with Keith’s bayard. He can even feel Pidge’s deathly glare that goes through him to get to their target that is the Prince.

He feels the grip of Allura’s hand on his suit tighten and the way Coran’s hand find its way until it’s resting on his shoulder.

But the Prince doesn’t. He doesn’t see, feel or sense any of what Lance does because they are not his team, they are Lance’s.

The Prince continues.

“No offense, Blue Paladin, but I had actually thought that Princess Allura here was the rightful Paladin for the Blue Lion. Having her leadership and power aside, she seems to be such a good fit for the title.”

Lance doesn’t disagree.

“Of course, I might be wrong. After all, there must be a reason why you are fighting besides Voltron itself. I speak out only because I believe your talents have been blurred by being surrounded by such powerful people and I’m merely concerned about the efficiency in future battles, thinking that your efforts may not be good enough –”

Lance can’t even come up with a response because suddenly there’s a body rushing past him and then Keith is standing there, pressing his Marmora Blade against the Prince’s neck.

“Would you like to say that again? Just to make sure I have the right motive to make you regret those words?” Keith hisses, face inches away from the Prince’s.

“Keith.” Coran calls, sharp and with a hidden warning, “Step back from the Prince, right now, Young Paladin.”

“But Coran –!”

Right now.

Keith growls but ends up taking a step back, his scowl deep in his face as he glares at the Prince from a distance.

“Prince Yult,” Allura says, voice tight and on edge as she releases Lance’s suit and takes a step forward, “While we appreciate your hospitality, you have no right to –”

“Princess Allura, if I may?” Lance cuts off, quiet but firm as he raises his chin high, staring at her evenly.

Allura stares right back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she nods.

“Prince Yult.” Lance addresses respectfully and waits until the royal nods at him before he continues, “I can understand your confusion about my position as a Paladin and your concern around the topic. My team’s talent and power is unmeasured and it’s not something anyone can live up to.”

“Lance…” Keith mumbles behind him but Lance continues.

“Which is why I must ask of you, not to doubt my team’s efficiency based on their one weakness that is me.”

“Lance, that’s enough.” Shiro snaps, low and dangerous but Lance doesn’t stop.

“Rest reassured, your highness.” Lance smiles, tight and forced, “That Voltron shall continue winning more battles and I will not be a liability to the team.”

“Buddy, come on, stop –”

“Now, if you excuse me, your highness.” Lance says, cutting Hunk’s plead short, “I shall take my leave. I’m sure the rest of the team would love to meet the Queen, but I sadly need to go back to the Castle and stand guard.”

Lance doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns around, ignoring the way Keith reaches out to him and how the rest of the team calls his name.

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King of Memes

Or, how Tony Found Out About Bucky’s Blog. 


Tony couldn’t seep. Sometimes he managed a few hours if he was tired enough, so usually he went to the gym and worked out until he was exhausted. Tonight, though, he found the gym already occupied: Barnes, with his hair tied up, working steadily at the heavy bag. Normally Tony would make an awkward comment and leave him to it, but instead he just heads for the opposite side of the gym. After setting up at one of the far treadmills, Tony worked his way to a easy run. Barnes was laying his fists rhythmically into the bag, and the quiet thumping was sort of strangely soothing. Between the running and the thumping, Tony slipped into a near-trancelike state.

 And then Barnes let out an ungodly howl, drew back his left fist, and slammed it straight through the heavy bag with a roar of, “DIE A THOUSAND BURNING DEATHS!”

Tony fell off the treadmill, scrambled to his feet, and booked it to the elevator.


kingofmemes posted:

holy shit you guys there was a spider on my punching bag !!! thanks to my many years of combat experience & martial arts training things are okay now

Posted at 4:47 AM, 37294 notes


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anonymous asked:

Can you explain why you think Jake Peralta has ADHD?

I’m actually really glad you asked because oooh boy, let met tell you, Jake Peralta, in my humble opinion as a fellow sufferer, is currently the single most obvious but sadly non confirmed (yet… one can still hope) fictional character with (most likely) undiagnosed ADHD out there. His strengths as well as his flaws all point towards him having the disorder.


So let me start with the good things:

- He’s a quick thinker! He thinks in unconventional ways with his mind taking leaps and turns whenever it feels like it. Often allowing him to solve cases in creative ways. … It also makes for interesting conversations most of the time.

- Using his impulsivity in a good way! When he figures something out, he’s usually the first one to get up AND DO SOMETHING. 

- Excitability! Have you seen how his eyes lights up when he feels like he’s doing what he thinks is right? He becomes like a little hyperactive child again. Usually, adults with the disorder, aren’t as much outwardly hyperactive anymore as children are. Instead, this tends to turn into feelings of restlessness and gets internalized. But of course, in a show like this, it makes sense to show him like this.

- Hyperfocus! Die Hard, anyone?! That guy has had the same hyperfixation for years!!! And I bet, he frequently uses his hyperfocus capability to get things done, too. That is, if he’s interested enough, of course.

- His energetic personality! Brings some energy and passion into the work place, don’t you think? And also it’s how many adults with ADHD are perceived if they feel well-integrated and at ease with their surroundings. Always the one coming up with new ideas? That’s us!

Now onto the not so good stuff when you’re the one struggling with it:

- Again, impulsivity. Saying the first thing that comes to your mind, talking… A Lot, acting without thinking and without regard for consequences. As seen on the show, it has not always been the best “decision” for him.

- Mood swings! Unfortunately, many are not aware of this fact but in many cases, ADHD actually comes with fast and frequent mood swings. The smallest things can trigger intense emotional responses. Jake definitely has that as he tends to jump from “Life is meaningless!” to “I’m the greatest!” without a problem. Just solved a case? I’M SO HAPPY!!! Oh no, they got away with it? Why bother anymore…… Yeah, that…

- You know the episodes where he and Captain Holt are undercover as part of the Witness Protection Program and Holt points out how Jake seems depressed lately? Yeah, people with ADHD can way too easily fall into this mindset (mood swings, anyone?). With the absence of regular work to keep his fast-pacing mind occupied, it’s not a surprise that he starts feeling this way.

- Not able to handle boredom! He has always something going. Games, ideas, looking for new cases. He never slows down and seems to keep himself occupied at all times. Classic ADHD!

- The way he handles words and numbers, anyone? How he never reads books? Oh, and then his troubles with finances? His locker and desk looking… like that? Classic signs of troubles with organisation and attention to me.

- Easily discouraged! It can’t be denied that he hasn’t had an easy childhood. Together with the troubles with his father, ADHD could be a way to explain why he now is the way he is. 

- Problems with low self-esteem (*cough* and definitely Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria)! Either he feels like THE BEST COP OUT THERE or he falls into this thinking pattern where you have trouble believing that people actually care about you. Probably something he should talk about in therapy, as he puts it himself.

Together with his tendency to procrastinate when it comes to boring stuff, his inability to express and cope with his feelings sometimes, his forgetfulness and not so ideal time management (for example, being late to work all the time),  I strongly believe that Jake Peralta has ADHD and should be written and confirmed as such (hey, it’s never too late!).
An episode focusing on him suspecting he has the condition and eventually seeing a specialist? I’d cry. Honestly.



Plus:
The fact that so many real people with the disorder relate to him??? Okay, that’s not actually relevant here but definitely something the writers should take into consideration. BUT, don’t feel bad if you don’t! Not everyone’s ADHD is the same! :)

Psst, you won’t believe how many times I sit there thinking “that’s so me!” while watching the episodes. There’s even more “evidence” sprinkled throughout the show. All the small details not listed aboved. It’s marvelous and oh-so-relatable.

And just imagine the many excited faces watching the show when a main character on a immensely popular show like this would be confirmed as being one of them! Just thinking of the tiny, tiny, TINY possibility puts me into happy stimming mode!!! It would also help increase awareness in those who may not know anything about it and help reduce prejudices ‘cause ding dong, ADHD is not a fake disorder and adults can have it, too. Surprise!

(P.S. Please also check out this awesome post!)

Trouble in Canada

Request: “I’m your husband, it’s my job.”

a/n: I hope you enjoy this itty bitty 10 page writing that I’ve been working on for a few days now ! 😉 ALSO @whitechocolateperfection wanted some angst so I wrote some angst and I hope y’all enjoy and I’d love to know your thoughts!!!

Your name: submit What is this?

“I’ll see you at the next session?”

            You picked your head up from rummaging in your bag and smiled at Ethan, your cooking class instructor, “My husband might be back in town, but I’ll see,”

           Ethan nodded his head steadily.  After a while of looking at each other, you diverted your gaze down towards the wooden table.  You saw his tapping fingers slowly make their way towards your hand that was rested on the table.

           Quickly, you moved your hand, and placed your engagement and wedding ring back on your left hand.  You did’t like cooking with your rings on in fear that they could fall down the drain if you were washing your hands, “Uh, Thanks for the lesson, I’ll see you later.”

           You heard an audible sigh escape his lips, “See you next week, Mrs. Mendes.” 

           As fast as you could, you scurried out the door and saw your friend, Jessie, waiting for you outside.  She saw your flustered expression and smirked, “Looks like the teacher has a crush on the student.” 

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→ through the flames (and into the lava)

Originally posted by kookielife

pairing → Jungkook x Reader

genre smut, fluff, slight humor, crack || dragon!jk, fantasy!au i guess

☆ warnings  public indecency, dry humping, fingering, non-penetrative sex, cumplay, i’m sorry

☆ word count  → 7.8k

Your boyfriend is a dragon.

Or so he claims.

or; the perks (and unexpected complications) of dating a fucking dragon

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She’s Just Not That Into You » Part I (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

First and foremost, I need to dedicate this miniseries to @stylesunchained​. If it weren’t for B, this idea would’ve never come to fruition. It’s been so lovely to torture you with snippets of this story, and now it’s finally here! And yes, the whole damn thing is dedicated to you, my beautiful friend.

Secondly, I need to take the time to thank @cuddlemusclestyles​ for her knowledge of England and always answering my questions about it. I would be lost without you, for you are my own personal Google.

And, of course, thank you all for the interest you’ve expressed for this miniseries. It’s always that much more enjoyable to write when you know you’ve got people rooting for you. I hope I don’t disappoint you.

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by chillhopdotcom

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Happy Tuesday.

I’m calling it “Yurio Catches Puberty” as a working title. (PG for swearing and puberty.) (Warning for body image stuff, very minor.) 

***

“WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER?”

The scream of anguish from the rink’s locker room shower made Yuuri look up sharply. He’d only arrived in St. Petersburg yesterday, but this couldn’t be normal, even if nobody else seemed to be paying the slightest attention.

“AUGH!”

It was definitely Yurio.

“Yurio?” he started to ask, but Georgi clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t engage,” he hissed.

Yuuri looked at him, wide-eyed.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, as Yurio began a steady, at least quieter stream of cursing in Russian, then English, then Japanese that Yuuri definitely hadn’t taught him.

“Puberty,” Georgi said.

Yuuri blinked. “Puberty?” he asked.

Georgi gave him a disgusted look. “Of course,” he mumbled to himself. “The golden boy didn’t suffer puberty…”

He wandered off, now also cursing, and Yuuri had ten seconds of silence before Yurio kicked the shower door open and strode out, towel around his waist.

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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Fixing things around the Haus was never really about the dibs for Dex. But, all the same, in the back of his mind he was still relying on his efforts in that department to secure him housing for his junior year at Samwell.

Which is why he’s a little surprised at himself for the sinking feeling in his gut when he’s officially offered a spot.

“Oh,” he replies dumbly.

Lardo blinks at him, clearly startled by his lack of enthusiasm, her hand still held out between them waiting for him to reach out and seal the deal.

Dex shakes his head and reaches his own hand out belatedly. Only to have Lardo pull back. “Bro. I’m not gonna give it to you if you don’t really want it.”

“No, no, I do! I promise I do. I’m sorry, I just thought…”

He thought that he’d be getting either Ransom or Holster’s dibs. And that Nursey would be getting the other’s. And, despite the fact that Dex has been dreading the very idea of that for the entire school year, he feels off kilter and lost now trying to imagine a scenario in which he lives at the Haus without Nursey constantly underfoot.

Even these past two years of living in the dorms, Nursey still always somehow manages to end up at the Haus whenever Dex does, stealing the last slice of pie while verbally needling at sore spots he knows well enough will get a rise out of his fellow D-man.

It seemed pointless to even hope that getting dibs wouldn’t somehow include Nursey at his side, and so Dex never bothered to factor in the possibility. He resigned himself to his fate. And now, presented with an alternative, he has no idea what to think.

“Do you, uh,” he clears his throat, watching Lardo’s eyes narrow at him, assessing. “Do you know who Rans and Holster are giving theirs to?”

“They’re giving them to Nursey, bro.”

“Right. But to Nursey and…?

“Just Nursey.” She shrugs. “Those bunkbeds don’t even have a ladder anymore, so we figured we’d turn the attic back into a single for now. And we thought we’d do you all a solid by making sure the SMH didn’t lose it’s next best D-man pair due to mutual homicide within the first week of preseason by making you shack up together. We’ve all seen how you two handle sharing a hotel room on roadies.”

To be fair, how they handle it nowadays is wildly different from the roughhousing mess of their first semester at Samwell. But apparently no one’s noticed that.

Dex goes abruptly still as a thought occurs to him that feels like a bucket of ice water over his head. “Wait. Was this Nurse’s idea?”

Keep reading

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 


    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”


    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

andallwaswell-ish  asked:

Seamus and Harry are a couple. Draco really doesn't like that. (fanon) Pansy is just the person he needs

“Quick, Pansy, kiss me.”

Pansy stares at Draco, her face screwed up at the absurd suggestion. There are so many things wrong with that statement. First, ew, she is not nearly drunk enough. Second, she doesn’t like to be rushed. And third, most importantly, nobody tells Pansy what to do.

“I will do no such thing. Why would you – “ her eyes scan the Gryffindor common room, following Draco’s gaze, and fall on Harry Potter sitting on Seamus Finnigan’s lap – “Oh, I see now.” She sighs loudly, accepting her duty as best friend, but also making sure Draco knows just how unappealing she finds the idea. “Fine.”

The kiss is brief and methodical and, all in all, incredibly disagreeable. Pansy only hopes that Potter glances their way to see it so it isn’t all in vain. As soon as her mouth is her own again, Pansy downs the rest of her firewhiskey.  “Never, ever, make me do that to your chapped lips again.”

“Sorry,” Draco says, looking past Pansy – she’ll forgive his inattentiveness this once, “It’s just –

“You needed to make Potter jealous?”

“Yes and –“ Draco pauses, and his eyes finally land on Pansy. About time. “How did you know it was Potter?

Pansy snorts. Draco really is an idiot sometimes. “Well you hardly have a crush on Finnigan do you? And Blaise told me sometimes you say his name while – “

“I’ll have a word with Blaise later,” Draco says quickly, a small blush appearing on his face – that he would certainly deny if Pansy were to mention. “Now hold my hand, make it look like we’re an established couple. I don’t want Potter thinking I’m easy.  If you put your arm – “

Draco’s voice falters, his gaze back on Potter. Pansy turns to witness Potter and Finnigan locking lips in a rather exaggerated fashion. It’s not romantic or erotic. It’s just a kiss. The two must have zero chemistry, much like Pansy and Draco.

“Although, clearly, Potter is very easy.” Draco puts on his cold, taunting voice but his own jealously is obvious.

Pansy rolls her eyes. Sometimes dealing with Draco is like dealing with a small child. She moves beside him and wraps an arm around his waist so they can stare at Potter and his current boy toy together. The two have stopped kissing and are now drawing patterns on each other’s hands. Gryffindors, honestly. “Would you look at that, Draco dear? They’re holding hands. They must be an established couple as well.”

“Do you really think so? Finnigan doesn’t seem like Potter’s type at all. And I’ve never seen them alone together before. I would have noticed it if – “

“How about we go over and find out?” Pansy shoves Draco hard and is pleased when he stumbles forward. She enjoys catching him off guard.

“Wait – Pansy, no.” Draco tries to protest but it’s too late. Potter has spotted them. He extracts himself from Finnigan and stands up to greet them, a hand running through his hair. Pansy has to hold back a smirk – she knows Draco loves when Potter does that. Not that he’s ever said anything. He doesn’t have to.

“Malfoy. Parkinson,” Potter says without even glancing at Pansy. Typical. And predictable.

Finnigan stands up beside Potter. Draco – what a surprise! – ignores this. “Potter.”

“Finnigan,” Pansy adds, only to annoy Draco. He gives her a reproachful side eye before returning his gaze to Potter. She suspects it’s the last time he’ll glance her way tonight.

They all stand there in silence. Potter staring intently at Draco. Draco staring intently at Potter. And Finnigan sharing a knowing look with Pansy. At least he’s not as stupid as he looks then.

Finally, Potter speaks up. “I didn’t know if you’d come tonight.”

“I never miss a party…even if it is hosted by Gryffindors.”

It’s not true. Draco has missed several parties over the years. But at this stage, Pansy doesn’t think Potter or Draco would even notice if she spoke so she keeps her mouth shut.

“Might be time for a Slytherin party next,” Potter says.

Draco is clearly holding back a smile. Pansy bets he is creaming his bloody pants at getting to have an actual conversation with Potter. “We get a little wild in the dungeons.” They don’t. “Are you sure you could handle it, Potter?

“I think I could rise to the challenge.”

“Subtle,” Pansy whispers to Finnigan. Honestly, Potter’s clearly got it as bad as Draco. It’s embarrassing to watch this train wreck unfold.

“So, Finnigan, that’s new.” Draco doesn’t even acknowledge that the person in question is still by Potter’s side. Finnigan shoots Pansy an amused look at being blatantly ignored. Things are clearly not serious with Potter.

“Very. And Parkinson?”

“I’m right here you know?” Pansy interjects, unable to hold back. But it makes no difference anyway. Only Finnigan hears her.

“It’s been a while,” Draco lies. Pansy wants to smack him around the head. Sure, she is happy to help make Potter jealous but there’s no need to exaggerate.

“Really? I always thought you were just friends?”

“Yes, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”’

“Like how he calls out your name every night in bed,” Pansy mutters underneath her breath. Finnigan, at least, catches and appreciates the jab if no one else does.

“Of course. Sorry Malfoy, I didn’t mean to question you. I’m just having a hard time grasping you and Parkinson together. I thought you were…you know.” Potter trails off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Pansy holds back a groan. It’s like listening to children with these two.

“Gay? Like you?”

“Actually, I’m bisexual,” Potter corrects. “But yeah.”

“Finnigan doesn’t seem like your type.”

Finnigan flips a half-hearted bird at Draco. Not that he notices.

“And Parkinson doesn’t seem like yours.”

“Because I’m out of his league,” Pansy points out, flipping her own violent bird at Potter. She doesn’t know why she’s even bothering standing here anymore.

Draco takes a step forward. “So, what’s my type then, Potter?”

Potter mimics Draco’s action so that they’re almost chest to chest – Really? “What’s mine?”

“You need someone who doesn’t hero worship you, someone who will hold you accountable for all your actions, someone who isn’t afraid of your temper. You need someone who challenges you.”

Pansy shares a confused look with Finnigan – did they rehearse this or something? Draco’s not usually this smooth with his words, especially with Potter in such close proximity.

“And you need someone who understands your vulnerability but doesn’t use it against you, someone who treats you gently, someone whose affection is unwavering. You need someone who forgives you.”

They must have rehearsed this. Pansy has never heard Potter say anything remotely intelligent before. And she hasn’t known him to be particularly observant either.

“And I suppose you could never forgive me after all that I’ve done?” Draco hits back, still just as smooth. This is getting ridiculous.

“I already have,” Potter responds immediately as if reading a line from a script. From a terrible cheesy muggle romance movie that Pansy would never be caught dead watching. Yet here she is witnessing this sappy display.

“What about Finnigan?”

“I was using him to make you jealous,” Potter admits. Pansy looks to Finnigan for confirmation – he winks. “Did it work?”

Despite using the exact same trick himself, Pansy can see Draco is outraged at being manipulated. “Fuck you, Potter.”

“You wish.”

And then they’re kissing. Enthusiastically. Way too close to Pansy’s face. She can see every stray strand of saliva, hear every lubricated slide of their mouths. It’s revolting. And worse still, they’ve become the centre of the attention at the party, eyes drawn to Draco and Potter’s embrace with Pansy and Finnigan standing by awkwardly, looking like dejected fools.

Pansy could spoil it by pinching the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck in vengeance for being ignored. Luckily, she’s feeling particularly generous tonight, and she’d never admit it, but seeing Draco with Potter is sweet. In a disgusting, horrible, sappy way of course. But still, sweet. Now she just has to focus on her own happy ending. She spies Hermione Granger’s amongst the watchful eyes around them and takes her moment:

“Quick, Finnigan, kiss me.”

Incredulity // Jughead Smut

Summary: Fred Andrews is the single parent of twins. He walks in on his daughter with her girlfriend in the middle of sex. Following that breakup you got together with your brothers best friend whom doesn’t have experience in sex so you teach your boyfriend. Guess your not the only twin in a forbidden relationship…only one is legal.

Characters: Jughead x Andrews!Reader, Betty x Reader, Kevin Keller, Archie Andrews (mentioned) and Fred Andrews

Words: 3237

Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or the characters. I do not own the Comics either. Jughead is NOT asexual in his.

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, smut, former same sex relationship,

Author: Caitsy

Tagging: At the bottom

A/N Originally this was going to be a Veronica fic but apparently my subconscious was needy for Jughead.

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Jokes were always made about the Andrews twins, Archie was the boy that got hit by the puberty bus during the summer before sophomore year. You however had came out of the awkward phase a lot early than your twin brother, it was the end of middle school when you hit puberty in the most graceful way.

While Archie incredibly straight, you were bisexual with no real preference to be honest. Nobody believed that you were bisexual, especially your dad because he had never seen you look at a female before. Fred Andrews got a rude awakening when he walked in on Betty Cooper going down on his freshmen aged daughter. Next the whole town found out about the relationship, minus the sexual side, with the knowledge that Betty had been crushing on you. It was purely fun for you and experimental for her so it didn’t cause any problems when she discovered she was only into guys and actually liked your twin. You guys continued to be best friends.

It was amusing when your father walked in on Betty and you because he fumbled through the safe sex talk. He didn’t know much about safe sex between females but he tried his best even if both of you were embarrassed beyond belief. He was happy however that you wouldn’t become the parental nightmare of pregnant teenager.

It was the last day of summer that he caught you with your boyfriend in bed together and getting the shock of his life for the second time. Jughead and you had gotten together at the very end of freshman year. Nobody, even Archie whom knew everything about you, knew about it because there was no real reason that they needed to know. You were a slut by any means, you only had had sex with Betty so you didn’t care if someone found out that Jughead and you were together. The only thing was that you hadn’t gone that far yet.

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Steal my groceries? I'll steal your mama's homemade tamales.

Buckle in kids, this is a long one, but well worth the ride. (TL;DR at the end)

This happened nearly 15 years ago, when I was in college renting a house with two other people. In order to understand the gravity of this situation you must first understand the dynamic between my female roommate (whom I’ll call Becky) and myself (also female). We had one guy roommate (I’ll call him Bob), and the three of us all worked together at a restaurant and lived in the same house for 2 years.

So the three of us were pretty close during that time, we shared a friend group, worked together, and had roomed together a year prior. However, to say Becky and I were friends would be a generous assessment of the true nature of our relationship. You see, Becky and I come from very different backgrounds and also have diametrically opposite personalities. She was from a lower socioeconomic group, a racial minority, and street-savvy. I am the WASPiest wasp of all wasps who ever wasped, come from middle class whiteville and am terribly naive. (I’ve learned a lot about my naiveté since then but I can still be a little dim to the true nature of people and have been hurt many times because of this.)

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Kim Minseok//At Odds

Summary: You don’t think your soulmark will complete itself on the same day that it comes to be on your skin, yet it happens - and who’s on the other end, a matching tattoo adorned on their skin? Only Kim Minseok, a man who could not be any more different to you.
Scenario: soulmate!AU
Word Count: 6,584

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To Steal A Kiss

Summary: As a mild criminal, you make a bold move to pick-pocket a suspicious looking stranger, but you may have picked the wrong target. (Bucky x reader)

Request/Prompt(s): Can you do this “I kissed you as a distraction while stealing your wallet” with Bucky x reader? Thanks!

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1933

A/N: Ok first, I do not condone theft. Second, I’m so glad someone picked this one!!! :D This was such a fun idea!

Originally posted by allthisherostuff

“We’ve been here for over an hour!” you whined, pacing the small empty room, dust particles swirling up into the sunlight with each step. “When do we make the drop?”

“When I’m ready,” your partner hissed, clearly annoyed with your impatience, “We’re the ones with the goods, they’ll wait and right now I’ve got a lurker that’s been hanging around at the corner for too long.”

“Lemme see.” You pushed your way to the window, picking up the heavy binoculars from the floor.

“Big guy. Army green coat, and black hat, northeast corner.”

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anonymous asked:

I saw last time you played Dream Daddy..! :o How was it? What do you think of the game? I love your blog btw!

Thanks! Hmm, well I could analyze the good and the bad of the game without taking its popularity and the way it was released and marketed into account but if I don’t do that I think it’s gonna be half my critique. Is Dream Daddy a good game? Perhaps. Is Dream Daddy deserving of its popularity and ratings? No. At all. I don’t want to be negative about it and this isn’t a hate post or anything, it’s just the things that really bothered me. Believe me, I was super pumped for the game. Like, legit, I WAS DRINKING CHAMPAIGN WHILE I STARTED PLAYING IT. And all was well and good but then, it went downhill. 

1) The game has 0 length. Like, I literally finished playing it in 2-3 hours, WITH breaks. Yes, I only played Craig’s route (Craig is cool btw) but this is a DATING SIM right? So, it HAS to be sufficient and has to be long even if the player just plays ONE character route. Because people are like “no it is pretty big”. It isn’t. Not everyone is going to play ALL THE ROUTES just so as to feel like they played Dream Daddy ‘a lot’. A dating sim game, cause that is what it claims to be, should NOT be valued by the sum of the time spent on ALL ROUTES, but just INDIVIDUAL character routes. 

2) The sprites were very nice and I loved them. The backgrounds HOWEVER were actually lacking. Again, the background is fine, but it is lacking in the CONTEXT cause Dream Daddy is supposedly a good game. Look at this: 

The background is literally some plain line art with some flat colors. No shading, no nothing. Yeah it looks good but cmon. Do you know how quickly a good artist can draw this? Very. Do not forget I am here to defend all Visual Novels and Dating Sims cause I really am a fan of the genre. And I am only making this critique in comparison to the ‘standard’, ok? HELL, even HATOFUL BOYFRIEND had better background art 

AND THIS IS A PIGEON DATING SIM IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW.

3) This is an addition to my saltiness about the lack of art, cause literally the ONLY ART FOR THIS GAME was the 1) Sprites, 2) Backgrounds AND 3) Those picture thingies you would get as a bonus for finishing the game/ a character route. Honestly. For people who are not familiar with visual novels and dating sims, this is LACKING at best. Most visual novels of this kind have art for important scenes and if not they at least HAVE ONE FOR AN ENDING SCENE. But not Dream Daddy of course. I literally was sleeping next to Craig and we had the whole confession thing happening inside a tent in the woods or smth and there. Was. No. Image. Anyways you get my point. Moving on,

4) The background sound was straight up bad. Not the songs themselves but the whole tuning and looping was horrid. Like, the different tracks were on different volumes and some would like stop and then start again without making the looping discreet or anything. I VIVIDLY remember my ears dying when I was in a forest with Craig and the ‘forest sound’ was so overly loud (and of course you could not hear Craig’s casual “ah”s at all). Man the sound was a mess.

5) Rushed, poor and Rushed once more. The characters were interesting and the setting and concept was good, I give you that, but the way they handled the plot and DELIVERED it however… Again there wasn’t any length to it and the writing could have been more detailed. Even in important scenes, there wasn’t much to be said. It honestly felt like they just wanted to get it over with. And honestly the plot was kinda flat. Like yeah ok we went on some dates or smth (with DADBOOk,,, ok uh huh)(they obviously couldn’t make it somehow linearly connected through the story and had to use such an easy way of doing routes cause that would basically mean a lot of work to make)(once again) and you’d get the casual heartbeat and nice smooth talking and jokes but that was it. The plot was average anyways. I guess the part with the teddy bear and the devil children dissecting it was a fun twist tho haha. 

Anyways! I am not really a person who rants or anything like that, and I am not AGAINST this game or anything. I still liked the game. I just had to speak the truth and say how it felt for me, especially with a successful game like this, since, in this genre of Dating Sims and Visual Novels, it’s very difficult to achieve such success or be advertised as much, and I am just trying to be just about this. A lot of people put so much EXTREME work into these games and they pour their soul into it, and achieve better quality, and it is just a shame that a game like this would be elevated and be called a ‘masterpiece’ when it was honestly a rushed game without much put into it besides some good ideas and a few interesting characters combined with a very talented sprite artist. 

Neighbors

Hey! Sorry, I know it’s been a while since I posted a one-shot! Believe me when I say I have a lot of stuff in the works… school has just been kicking my ass.

This is for this prompt, requested by @legendarylangst.

So Lance and Keith are neighbors - their bedrooms share a wall - (apartments) anyway, Lance gets sick - like rlly sick - so he stays home and tries to sleep it off, but in his sleep he moans ans groans because even in his sleep he’s in pain. and Keith thinks he’s getting off,, and bangs on the wall ans then when it doesnt stop he goes to the door and pounds on the door until Lance answers while in a blanket

Hope you guys enjoy!


Lance hated being sick.

Not that he’d ever admit that he was, but he despised it all the same. It wasn’t even the symptoms that bothered him the most, even though those sucked. It was the feeling of not being able to do anything. There was nothing Lance hated more than being useless.

Still, despite his protests, Hunk had decided that Lance couldn’t possibly go into work that day. The guy was usually a big pushover, except when it came to his friends’ health. Then all bets were off.

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Just Friends

Requests: (1) Could you do a Draco imagine that consists of Cedric Diggory, Draco getting jealous, feels, conflict, and a load of jealousy?;

(2) Could you do an imagine where Draco and the reader are best friends and lowkey in love with each other but refuse to admit it, and progressively Draco starts making, erm, suggestive, comments to the reader and there’s just lots of sexual tension and eventually they get together?

⇢  A Draco x Reader work featuring a very jealous and steamy Draco.


Draco took a sip from his goblet, peering over the rim as you walked into The Great Hall with a handsome Hufflepuff by your side. Not that it bothered him, of course. In fact, Draco would say he hardly even noticed.

“You alright, mate?”

“Just fine. Why do you ask?”

Zabini shrugged. “Your nose has been inside your goblet for some time now. Trying to drown yourself, Malfoy?”

“Of course not.” Draco lowered the goblet from his face, never once taking his eyes off you. You were still talking to that boy.

Blaise followed Draco’s gaze and smirked. “Tell me, Draco, where’s that best friend of yours? She usually would have dropped by for her daily chat by now.” He watched as Draco’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “Oh– I see her. She’s preoccupied by that Hufflepuff. Diggory, is it?”

“I don’t know. And I couldn’t care less, really.”

“Didn’t you two agree to attend the Yule Ball together?” A look of mock realization dawned on Zabini’s face. “Oh, that’s right. You two agreed to go only as friends. And now she’s chatting up the Triwizard Champion while you’re here dateless.”

“Appears so.” Draco remained impassive. “But at least I have an excuse for not bringing a date. Can you say the same?”

Zabini sobered as he took in Draco’s expressionless tone. Zabini may have been a tosser, but he knew when to stop. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Draco heaved a sigh, rubbing his temple and finally turning to face Blaise. “Is it obvious?”

“Only to someone with a brain.” Blaise paused. “Which explains why Y/N hasn’t caught on yet.”

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