play in the puddle

hogwarts houses & autumn aesthetics

gryffindor. oversized jumpers; roasting marshmallows over a crackling fire; laughing hysterically while pumpkin carving; the smell of cinnamon and baking; playing in puddles with bright gumboots; hair blowing wildly in the wind; cute beanies with pom poms; warm, rosy cheeks; burning your tongue when you sip a hot drink too quickly; early morning runs; worn, flannel shirts; pretending to be a dragon with clouds of warm breath in the cold air

hufflepuff. long, woollen socks; vanilla-scented candles; a warm blanket over your shoulders; jumping into a pile of autumn leaves; fluffy earmuffs; creamy hot chocolate with whipped cream on top; hanging fairylights everywhere; playing with your pet on a warm rug; thick mittens; a warm bath to relax after a long day; the crunching of leaves underfoot; capturing the image of dancing leaves with a vintage camera

ravenclaw. people-watching through foggy windows in cafés; reading a favourite book by candlelight; long, thick scarves; staying up late to play board games; wandering aimlessly under falling leaves; oversized, knitted cardigans; muted sunlight filtered through autumn leaves; late nights binging on netflix; a chilly wind freezing the tip of your nose; scribbling in notebooks under overcast skies; the natural silence of the woods; the dancing tendrils of steam from a mug of hot tea

slytherin. cold and misty mornings; warming your hands on a mug of hot coffee; dark lip colours; the dance of walking barefoot across a cold floor; stylish, long overcoats; falling asleep to the pattering of rain on the window; meandering wooded roads; lace-up leather boots; the flickering of candlelight in the dark; lying on a tartan blanket while listening to music through headphones; burying yourself in soft, warm blankets at the end of the day

“I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with.
Tell me why you loved them,
then tell me why they loved you.

Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through.
Tell me what the word home means to you
and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name
just by the way you describe your bedroom
when you were eight.

See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate,
and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.

Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain
or bounce in the bellies of snow?
And if you were to build a snowman,
would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms
or would leave your snowman armless
for the sake of being harmless to the tree?
And if you would,
would you notice how that tree weeps for you
because your snowman has no arms to hug you
every time you kiss him on the cheek?

Do you kiss your friends on the cheek?
Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad
even if it makes your lover mad?
Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion
or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

See, I wanna know what you think of your first name,
and if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy
when she spoke it for the very first time.

I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind.
Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel.
Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old
beating up little boys at school.

If you were walking by a chemical plant
where smokestacks were filling the sky with dark black clouds
would you holler “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud
or would you whisper
“That cloud looks like a fish,
and that cloud looks like a fairy!”

Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin?
Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?
And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me —
how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?

See, I wanna know if you believe in any god
or if you believe in many gods
or better yet
what gods believe in you.
And for all the times that you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself,
have the prayers you asked come true?
And if they didn’t, did you feel denied?
And if you felt denied,
denied by who?

I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
on a day you’re feeling good.
I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
on a day you’re feeling bad.
I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty
could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.

If you ever reach enlightenment
will you remember how to laugh?

Have you ever been a song?
Would you think less of me
if I told you I’ve lived my entire life a little off-key?
And I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry
I just plagiarize the thoughts of the people around me
who have learned the wisdom of silence.

Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence?
And if you do —
I want you to tell me of a meadow
where my skateboard will soar.

See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living.
I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving,
and if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes.
I wanna know if you bleed sometimes
from other people’s wounds,
and if you dream sometimes
that this life is just a balloon —
that if you wanted to, you could pop,
but you never would
‘cause you’d never want it to stop.

If a tree fell in the forest
and you were the only one there to hear —
if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound,
would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist,
or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

And lastly, let me ask you this:

If you and I went for a walk
and the entire walk, we didn’t talk —
do you think eventually, we’d… kiss?

No, wait.
That’s asking too much —
after all,
this is only our first date.”

—  Andrea Gibson
Injured - (Newt Scamander x Reader)

(A/N: To the lovely person that requested an injured Newt with a fear of needles! I hope you like it. ^-^)

-

A gust of crisp late autumn air wafted in when you stepped inside the door of your modest home, nestled in your fluffiest scarf. Emerging from your fleecy layers, your eyes fell on a suspicious red blotch on the usually spotless linoleum floor of your entry hall. Bending over to examine it (but careful not to get too near it lest it be some sort of dangerous substance that Newt’s creatures often left behind), your eyes narrowed. Could it be blood? And if so, was it even human? The worst possibility of all, was it Newt’s blood? As numerous scenarios that could have caused the miniscule puddle to be where it was now played out in your mind, you heard what sounded like a faint groan from deep in your house.

Making your way towards the sound, making a mental note to clean up the spill later, you made sure that your footsteps were as quiet as possible. You didn’t have a particular reason that you were aware of, but you supposed it was better to be safe than sorry. Pausing outside out of one the closed oaken doors that lined your hallway, you heard the sound again. Furrowing your brows and placing your ear closer to the door so you could hear better, your mind was racing. That definitely sounded like Newt…

Backing away to a normal distance away from the door so it wasn’t obvious that you had been eavesdropping, you lifted your hand and rapped your knuckles against the solid paneling. “Are you alright?” You called out, hoping that it really was Newt in there. Of course, who else would it be? But still, you reminded yourself, surprises were never far between in this house.

“Yes love?” His voice (it was Newt after all, you noted in relief) sounded strained.

“Are you alright? Can I come in?” Your hand hovered over the cold metal of the knob.

“Ah, I’m fine… Be out in just a second…” His voice seemed to be fading away, you guessed he was trying to hide in his case. Something more unusual than normal was going on.

“I’m coming in, Newt Scamander.” You called firmly, pushing the door open. You gasped at the sight that greeted you, sending your hands fluttering up to your mouth. “Newt!” You practically squeaked, looking at his mangled arm. “What happened?!” You were already breaking out of your trance, running for the first aid kit that you kept handy.

“It wasn’t his fault honestly – just got a bit over-excited that’s all. No, no, I’m fine.” He tried to push away the kit with his good hand when you returned, even though his face was a pasty shade of white. Pursing your lips, you noted his sweaty forehead and shaking limbs.

“You are certainly not fine.” You plopped down on the bed next to him, taking care not to jostle his bloody arm. “Come on now, let’s get this cleaned up…” You soothed him, seeing his face drawn tight in obvious pain.

Throwing the last bloody cloth on top of a now towering stack, you gazed at the gash before you. It wasn’t a pretty sight, the cut deep and raw. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to stitch this one up, dear…” You handed Newt the stress ball that you kept handy in your pants pocket. “Squeeze this with your good hand, it’ll distract you.”

Newt trembled again, but you attributed it to the pain in his arm. Taking the shining silver needle out of its case and threading it with the thick plasticky black thread, you saw his eyes blow wide with panic. “Are you ready?” You asked gently, hovering the sharp tip over his arm.

“N-no.” His eyes were fixed on the needle, and you saw a sheen of tears beginning to cover his eyes.

“Oh…” The realization dawned on you. “Are you scared of needles?”

Newt nodded, and you rapidly replaced the needle back in your kit. “I’m going to have to take you to the hospital then.”

“I know.” His voice was pained, breathing ragged.

Wrapping an arm around his shaky form, you helped him to his feet. “Come on then… You’ll be okay.” You kept your voice soft, like Newt had shown you to do when you were comforting wounded creatures. Supporting his lanky form, you slowly made it out to your car and helped him in.

The whole drive to the hospital your hand was on his knee, rubbing it soothingly, and apologizing when the car hit rough parts of the road, jolting Newt’s injured arm and forcing a pained whimper past his lips.

While the doctor sedated him and stitched up his arm you held his good hand the whole time, holding him and smoothing your hands through his hair when he woke.

That evening back at home, Newt’s arm wrapped tightly in pristine white bandages, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He murmured, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he held your hand, and suddenly everything was worth it.

I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them and why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life that you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me about what the word ‘home’ means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bedroom you had when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or dance in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to give your snowman arms? Or would you leave your snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice that the tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. See I want to know more than what you do for a living. I want to know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other peoples wounds. I want to know about you.
RP Starters for kids/kid muses!

( These are starters that can be used with kid muses! This was a request. )

-

Rain, Rain: Our muses play in rain puddles together during a light shower!

Go away: One muse hides under the bed from the big storm outside!

Monsters!: One muse is convinced there’s a monster under the bed!

I didn’t do it!: One muse drew/painted all over the walls!

Ready or not!: Our muses play a game of hide-and-seek!

I’m not going!: One muse really doesn’t want to go to school!

But I’m not tired: One muse simply refuses to go to bed! 

Excuse me, sir: Our muses go house to house selling chocolate!

Sugar rush: One muse had way too much candy and is now super hyper!

Pretend: Our muses play ‘pretend’ together - costumes and all!

Ouchies: One muse falls down and scrapes up their knee!

Nightmare: One muse wakes up from a scary nightmare!

Uh oh!: One muse gets caught stealing some candy from the store!

Yuck!: One muse refuses to eat their healthy veggies during dinner!

Would you like a glass?: Our muses open a lemon-aid stand! 

Time to bake!: Our muses make pie… except, it’s made out of mud.

Play with me! Now.: One muse demands the other plays with them!

I’m fi- achoo!: One muse is sick… but they refuse to stay in bed and rest!

Birthday: One muse throws a a giant birthday party for the other!

Splish splash: One muse teaches the other how to swim!

Read to me: One muse reads the other a bed-time story!

Tag, your it!: Our muses play a fun game of tag!

Oh no…: One muse got lost on their way home from school!

I want it!: One muse throws a tantrum in the store for a toy/item they want!

Draw with me: Our muses finger-paint together!

The mean kid: One muse is being bullied by another student!

Peaceful outing: Our muses go to the park together!

It’s a giraffe!: Our muses go to the zoo! One is scared of some of the animals.

Just a few more minutes: One muse is too obsessed with watching t.v!

Makeover!: One muse insists to give the other a makeover - makeup and all!

A fort for us: Our muses make a blanket/pillow fort together!

Pillows: Our muses have a pillow fight!

Up all night: Our muses have a sleepover with snacks and movies!

Boo-hoo: One muse is having a bad day and keeps crying over everything!

Snip Snip: One muse tries to give themselves a hair-cut… and fails.

I’ll fix it!: One muse breaks something and tries to fix it with glue before someone notices!

Do you want to build a snowman?: One muse wants to play in the snow! However, the other would rather stay inside.

It’s mine!: One muse simply refuses to share any of their things!

Rotten: One muse keeps misbehaving everywhere they go!

Detention: One muse gets in trouble for something at school!

Turtle: One muse is too shy to play with others and stays alone!

Can we keep him?: One muse brings an animal home without permission!

3

My dog met his Son today!!

They’re both very good boys and he shared his food and his water and toys and let him sit on his bed.
I’m so proud of my boy. He’s a good dad.

In control II

Originally posted by lullabyun

💙

//Yixing x you

Word count: 1,581

Summary: Yixing loses his grip, both on the track and in his life, and you are a countersteer he needs to go straight again.

Part I III


Rain. Rain can be welcomed. Rain can be yearned for. Rain can bring hope and it can revitalize the world. It can make green even more vivid, clear the air, rinse the streets. Rain can bring joy and smile. Joy of the young one playing in the puddle, smile of the older one listening to the sound of the drops drumming on the window sill. Rain can be colorful, light dispersing in the minute prisms, joining together to grace the surroundings with rainbow.

Keep reading

Noctis Headcannon

Noctis pretends to be super suave, however;

-Noctis is a cuddler, he would never out right admit it but he loves being spooned and would definitely fall asleep in his s/o’s arms

-Noctis loves long hugs, he will melt into his lovers arm with his face pressed into their neck as he breathes in their scent

-His s/o’s natural scent calms him deeply, so much that he loves stealing articles of their clothing to smell and help him sleep

-If Noctis’s s/o gives him a long heartfelt kiss he’ll basically be a puddle of mush and warm feelings.

-Playing with Noctis’s hair is a surefire way to put him to sleep, not just his regular nap sleep, it keeps away his nightmares.

-Noctis loves sleeping with his head resting in his s/o’s lap. It’s the best pillow he’s ever had. better than Egyptian cotton

don’t think about rey getting like… confused? that she’s allowed to eat as much as she pleases while with the resistance? without turning any work in? and throughout her whole meal she keeps expecting someone to announce they’ve made a mistake just GIVING HER ALL THIS FOOD FOR FREE?

don’t think about rey playing and splashing in the puddles the first time she sees it rain and getting soaked to the bone but grinning from ear to ear.

don’t think about all the resistance droids coming to rey to fix their bent antennae and whatnot until they follow her around like ducklings.

don’t do it your heart cant take it

Singin’ and Dancin’ in the Rain

Title : Singin’ and Dancin’ in the Rain

Pairing : Castiel X Reader

Word Count : 2,192

Prompt: It’s a rainy day, and you intend to make the most of it.

Originally posted by destielover

Originally posted by thekingofsiilence

You buried your head in the crook of your arm, letting out a soft huff of boredom. “This sucks.”

Outside lightning flashed brightly in the slate gray sky before the clap of thunder rattled the windows of the bunker. You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. You had been stuck in this place with the boys for the past three days, the rain keeping you all locked in the tiny house with nothing to do except stare at the walls. You frowned and looked out the window as the rain pattered onto the panes, rivers of dark water streaming down the glass. You had an awful case of cabin-fever. You buried your head in your sleeve with a bored groan. “I’m so bored.”

“Tough luck,” Dean muttered, staring down at his pistol as he polished it for the twelfth time that day.

Sam heard you and looked up from his work on his laptop. “You could always help me research this Kansas case, Y/N.”

You let out a drawn-out moan of annoyance. “I just told you I was bored, Sam.”

The younger Winchester stared at you, wide-eyed. “Yeah.” He held up a book. “This is fun.”

You lowered your eyelids in irritation. “Please tell me you’re joking, Sammy.” Sam gave a little shrug and you let out a groan. “Oh my gosh, you’re serious.” You flopped over onto your stomach on the couch. “You need to get out more, Sammy.”

Sam let out a soft sigh and went back to his book. “Right.”

You looked outside again, as a clap of lightning lit up the sky.

Suddenly you perked up. You wheeled around, your face split in a huge grin. “Let’s go outside.”

Keep reading

Send ___ for how my muse reacts to…

Rainy days. Stay inside, or go play in the puddles?

Sunny days. Hide so they burn to a crisp, or relish sunbathing?

Thunderstorms. Are they scared, or do the run outside to watch?

Hail. Do they worry about their care/home, or perhaps their garden? If they’re large enough, do they try to play baseball with the hail stones?

Wind. Does the howling drive them nuts, or do they find peace snuggled inside?

Snow. Are they more likely to complain, or go outside and build a snowman?

Fog. Do they just stay home, and complain about the pea soup conditions, or do they enjoy the tranquility that comes from fog?

Hurricane. Does your character batten down the hatches and ride it out or evacuate?

Rainbow. Does your character try to find the end, or just admire from afar?

Frost. How would they react to a bitter cold morning, frost so thick you can write in it with your finger? Do just that, or grumble as they head for the shower?