so there you go

Finally got some time to colour that White Queen Running inspired piece that anon requested ages ago.

If you’re not already reading that fic you should most definitely start.


Captain Niall Horan, and his ships.

myrtle & marauders
  • Peter was the one who found Myrtle’s bathroom.
  • Not like find find. They knew the bathroom was there, they just didn’t know Myrtle until Peter decided it was a good place to hide from Slytherins they just pranked.
  • Myrtle was not very welcoming at first but Peter was nice to her, so she let him hide there without making a scene.
  • As soon as he got to their dorm room Peter told the boys about her and the bathroom. Jamie, I think you’ll get along with her very well.
  • It was empty, no one went in there and they really needed somewhere to make potions without getting caught.
  • So, Peter took the boys to meet Myrtle. 
  • Myrtle took great interest in Sirius, Remus took great interest in leaving

Sirius: Moony, you are not jealous of a girl, are you? A girl who is also a ghost? 
Remus: Of course, not.  
spoiler alert.. he is.

  • However the rest of the Marauders were convinced that they can use the bathroom.
  • Myrtle approves. Because you know, four mostly attractive boys in her bathroom, doesn’t get better than that. 
  • James flirts with her, Remus is kind to her when she’s not swooning over Sirius, Peter talks with her like she’s a normal person and Sirius.. well, he doesn’t have to do anything to get Myrtle to like him.
  • Remus is the first one to ask her how she died, he doesn’t get a reply and Myrtle starts to cry. 
  • And boy, does she cry. She makes weird noises while she cries so James starts calling her Moaning Myrtle, it gets stuck.
  • Myrtle hates the name and doesn’t hang with the boys like she used to. They are just as cruel as Olive Hornby was.
  • One day, Mulciber hears Marauders talking about Moaning Myrtle. Him and his gang decide to pay a visit to the ghost that’s haunting the abandoned girl’s bathroom and make fun of Myrtle.
  • Remus is on his way to library from Great Hall and hears Myrtle cry when he goes in to check on her, he sees the Slytherins throwing things at the poor girl.
  • No one, and I mean no one, messes with Marauders’ friends.
  • Remus gathers the other boys and they plan a revenge.
  • This revenge results in Mulciber and his friends landing detention with McGonagall for 3 days in a row. To this day, they are still not sure how they pulled that one off.
  • Myrtle hears about what happened while visiting the Prefects bathroom.
  • Myrtle is back with the boys and now she’s even helping.
  • Turns out Myrtle is really good at pranking, the next prank on Slytherins is her idea. 
  • At one point, Myrtle even gives relationship advice to James and Peter.
  • Moaning Myrtle is Moaning Myrtle because of the Marauders and they love her.
random caryl headcanons because reasons

Once Daryl’s confident enough in their relationship that he feels comfortable voicing out loud the compliments that have always swirled through his brain the second she walks into a room, he literally can’t shut the hell up. “Mmm, your hair smells so good” when he’s got his face pressed against her, bargaining for five more minutes in bed. “That color looks great on you” when she walks out of the bathroom in the morning, blinking awake while she runs a brush through her hair. “This pie’s even better than the last one” when she had to scramble to find a weird combo of allspice and nutmeg. “I told you you’re her favorite babysitter,” when he tries to take Judith out of Carol’s arms and she starts crying. “Nice ass,” mumbled under his breath while he stretches out on the bed and watches her wiggle out of her jeans at the end of a long day. But no matter how many times he compliments her, she smiles (or turns pink, or both) at single every one.

At least a few times a week, Daryl wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. Maybe a nightmare, maybe a coyote howling beyond the walls, maybe just stress-induced insomnia. At first he tries to deal with it alone, quietly pushing away the covers and tiptoeing toward the door. But Carol’s way too light a sleeper for that. “Going somewhere?” she’ll say, a touch of laughter behind the concern in her voice. She never fails to wake up seconds after he does on the rough nights – it’s kind of uncanny. It takes a little time, but after a few episodes he learns to accept that she’s just there, small soft hands smoothing over his shoulder, warm quiet voice soothing in the sleepy darkness. Sometimes he talks to her, tries to make words out of the mess he’s feeling. Other times he just smiles and smushes his face into her neck, plays with the ends of her hair, and relaxes to the feel of her breathing in and out, wrapped tight in his arms.

He loves being a guinea pig when she’s trying out new stuff in the kitchen. Available ingredients are always a constraint on what she can manage to create, but he’s forever in awe of her creativity. Most of the time, her bizarre substitutions work, and the look of appreciation on his face when she slides the spoon into his mouth is 100% genuine. But every now and then, there’s just no way to pretend the beet juice bread or sweet potato/cabbage soup isn’t a train wreck. When the inevitable happens, he fights his hardest to school his face at least into neutrality, but she’s way too smart for him. “That bad, hm?” she’ll laugh, licking some from the spoon she just took out of his mouth. Then, “Oh shit, that’s awful.” He shrugs. Kisses her. (The soup tastes four hundred percent better on her tongue). Eats it anyway.

The first time Daryl mentions Glenn in her presence, her heart cracks wide open. He’s showing her how to make sure the car’s safely up on the jack before she starts changing the tire. Reaching into the toolbox, he mutters without thinking, “Shit, I should clean these wrenches. Glenn would kick-” He stops; the hand that’s twisting the bolt is shaking. She reaches out, puts her own hand over his. “Glenn would what?” she whispers. Daryl’s quiet for a long beat, his eyes staring down at the damp dirt. He scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes and says, voice rough and gravelly around the words, “He’d kick my ass for not taking care of his tools. Was always in Aaron’s garage with some fuckin’ cloth, polishing the damn things. Think he wanted to keep ‘em like Dale did.” She swallows past her own tears and gives his hand a final squeeze, cherishing the fact that he spoke the words at all. She knows that tonight, she’ll finish drying the dishes alone, even though he almost always helps her. She’ll grab a jacket and step into the late fall bite of the evening air. And she’ll walk toward the light in Aaron and Eric’s garage, where she’ll find Daryl on a bench with the entire contents of the toolbox spread before him on a towel, polishing them one by one with the ragged, stained cloth clutched in his hands.

It turns out that he’s actually amazing at massages. She got a tiny taste on top of the bus at the prison, but that’s nothing in comparison to what he has to offer once he finally gets comfortable with touching her skin for more than three seconds at a time. When she steps out of the bathroom after a tiring shift on watch followed by a steaming shower, he’ll give her towel-clad body a lingering look before he says, “Want me to rub your back for a minute?” At first she thinks it’s an excuse to get her naked (as if he needs one), but when she stretches out on the sheets, he carefully refrains from touching anything except her back and shoulders. (Eventually, with her express encouragement and when they’re both in the right mood, he winds up massaging other places as well, until she’s flushed and breathless, whispering that she wants more.)

One of Carol’s favorite weekly rituals is taking the kids so Rick and Michonne can have a ‘date night.’ Carl grumbled a little at first, but now he’s on such a mission to beat Carol at Scrabble that he looks forward to it as much as she does. Her favorite part of the evening is always Judith’s bedtime. For whatever reason, Daryl is Judy’s favorite reading buddy – the child bounces and claps her hands when he heads toward her special corner of the bookshelf, asking which one she wants to read. Once she’s had her bath and is all cuddled up in fresh pajamas with her favorite stuffed animal (a tattered penguin Michonne named Harold as a joke, but the damn name stuck) and her pacifier, she climbs right into Daryl’s lap and snuggles into the crook of his arm, pudgy fingers patting the pages of her chosen book. Carol’s always watching from the table where she and Carl continue their Scrabble war (Carl’s still pissed she actually played “quixotic” in their last game, straight through a triple word with the x on a triple letter), and there are few things she loves more than hearing Daryl say, “Asskicker, I swear if you make me read this goddamn book again-” followed three seconds later by, “Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare’s very long ears…”