sons of intrigue

Flower Child

Thank you to a reader for submitting this idea.

oh gosh Harry with a son is so cute maybe one in which his son has a crush in a little girl from his preschool and he goes to backyard to got flowers and he hide them in his little backpack to give her and he does everyday until one day Harry finds flowers in his backpack and ask him about it ❤️

What started as a blurb has spiraled into over 2k of fluff and daddy Harry, so I hope you all enjoy! -xoxo S


Harry’s car idled by the curb as he patiently waited for the dashboard clock in his Range Rover to hit noon. It was rare that he was able to pick up his son from school, but the days his schedule allowed for it were some of his favorites. With the new baby at home, he had to make more time for pick ups and drop offs, which he didn’t mind one bit. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel to the faint beat pulsing through the car and checked his phone for a message update from you on whether the new member of your family had willingly gone down for a nap.

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Do You Have To Do That? (14/15)

Pairing: The Avenger Team x Reader // Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Swearing?

A/N: Please remember, Thor had to have permission to be with Jane. Also Siren’s are not able to create life with a mortal, those who do have a tenancy to be evil, sea witches or Hades types.
Anything you don’t understand feel free to message me.

@chrisevansthedoritobastard   @holahellohialoha  
@almightyunnie @imamotherfuckingstar-lord
@iwillbeinmynest  @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
@goodnightwife @irepeldirt  
@yourtropegirl  @bellejeunefillesansmerci  
@buckyb-avengers  @winterboobaer  
@mrhowardstark @captainsteverogerslover  
@stank-tower  @thevanishedillusion  
@shamvictoria11  @heir-of-light-33  
@princess-fangirl1 @alphasoldier
@rileyloves5  @jonsnowisnotdeadthough
@phvckingphandoms    @confuzzled-panda

Parts 1-13

“You are?” One of the woman look Steve over as he crosses the room towards you. You place your hand over your mouth to stifle the giggle on your lips.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve nods.

“The mortal.” Another woman grins clapping her hands together.

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I looked closer at the panel and I noticed Vanitas’ expression when Jeanne is about to bite him… even though he claimed he likes to be bitten he clearly looks… unhappy? Apprehensive, anxious, unsettled… as if he’s afraid of the bite or the pain? (maybe painful memories?) I can’t quite figure it out, but he looks far from happy or pleased… now the question is, of course, why he would claim to like it then.. Maybe because he loves Jeanne and knows she wants/needs his blood? Or maybe there are ulteriour motives…(which, if, we take Mochijun into consideration, might be the case…also vanitas and his interactions regarding this and Jeanne (and generally tbh) seemed “off” in the first place)
This also opens the question whether he really “loves"Jeanne or not… Or if he does but still has some shady reasons for letting her feed off of him… this has me really intrigued now (aaah praise for Mochizuki) and I can only pray this doesn’t turn out bad for either of them…

Undercover - A short Reylo Story

So @marisaa8 requested on the 22nd of Jan this year that I write something to Khelani’s ‘Undercover’

It took a while, but I finally got there! All I wanted was to create a pole routine to this, not write a story. That’s a very hard thing to get past!

And I know you wanted spies, and I could totally see it, but my fingers wouldn’t take me that way. So instead you get this. I hope it’s okay.


Without any further ado, finally here it is:

 @marisaa8​, this is for you!




‘It’s done, right?’ Their faces were anxious, pulled tight with well-meaning concern.

‘Yes.’ Was all Rey said, arms crossed over her chest. She realised it was a defensive stance and tried to make it seem as casual as possible, relaxing the tension in her face and shoulders and popping her hip to the side.

'Thank goodness,’ Finn slumped into her, arm slung over her shoulder as he forced her to take his weight. 'I was so worried about you, Peanut. I know you’re a grown woman and all, but I was really worried.’ Poe was nodding slowly, wrapping a piece of string around his fingers to keep his hands busy.

A cool breeze tugged at them, nipping at exposed flesh, reminding them all that autumn had finally arrived as they stood in the sunshine, enjoying their afternoon in the park.

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Remember I love you pt2 - TEEN WOLF IMAGINE

requested: yes


“Hi love could you do a part 2 to this where its aria trying to get stiles dad/scott  to remember”


warnings: I tried writing this imagine based on what I’ve seen from the trailers for season 6. I also tried posting another GIF I made but it wasn’t working so here’s the same one from last time, sorry! 



As the night fell upon you, you went back home. Your mother was home, thank God, making you feel less alone. You had no idea what happened, why you were inside a blue jeep in the school parking lot, crying. You tried so hard to think about it and trace your steps in your mind but it was like nothing was there. You just kept repeating to yourself “remember”. You went up to your room, put your bag down and changed to your pijamas. You saw, on top of your chair, a red sweater jacket which you loved but couldn’t recall buying it. You picked it up and you immediately felt someone’s cologne. It was a familiar scent and you felt your heart jump. You decided to put it on and you went down to have dinner with your mom for the first time in days, making you feel better. You talked about anything and everything although your mom was putting on the effort to get you to talk, since you weren’t really feeling that well. Deep into the conversation, she decided to ask you something.

“That’s such a beautiful ring, honey.” She pointed out, making you look at your hand. You stared at your beautiful gold and burgundy ring, admiring it. “Who gave it to you?" 

"I don’t know… I don’t remember.” You mumbled, still staring at the ring.



For the next couple of days you basically dragged yourself to school. Your mind was all over the place, you couldn’t figure out why. You felt like you were missing something, like a big part of you and felt lost. You felt your chest heavy, noticing tiny little things that felt familiar to you but you couldn’t understand why but you had to. And the same was happening to the other pack members as Scott, Lydia and Malia felt the same way, having trouble remembering a few things as well. As you walked together down the hall you came to the conclusion that you were missing the same person but you couldn’t figure out who. You were so distracted that you slammed against another student, one year younger than you, hurting yourself. 

“I’m sorry, I -” you tried apologizing but you forgot your words as soon as you saw what the student was wearing. It was a burgundy jersey with a 24 on it and it was like you were suddenly hit by a flashback of someone wearing that jersey and hugging you tightly. You got closer to the student and touched the jersey he was wearing, thinking it would help but it didn’t.

“Watch it you freak!” The guy yelled at you, slapping your hands and pushing you, humiliating you. 

“What did you call her asshole?” Malia asked, stepping in to defend you. She started growling and her claws came out. Scott immediately jumped in, trying to make everything look normal. 

“Jared beat it or else.” He warned, pulling back Malia while the student left at high pace. “You can’t do those things Malia. You have to control yourself, you know that." 

"I know but it’s too strong, overwhelming.” She confessed, feeling disappointed in herself. 

“Are you ok?” Lydia asked you. 

“That number… It seems so familiar to me.” You mumbled, staring at the student until he was no longer in your sight.

“Yeah maybe because you’ve learned it in maths and stuff.” She teased. 

“No but I feel like it means something to me. That number and that jersey…" 

"Like what?” Scott asked. 

“I don’t remember.” You confessed with sadness overwhelming you too. 

You spent all your free time, that day, all together discussing the ghost riders and what you were feeling. You were joined by Liam, Mason, Cory and Hayden, all together, trying to figure something out that could help you find more about them and somehow reach Alex and his parents. You spent most of the time absent as you kept staring at your ring. Lydia kept writing down and drawing while the others took a break to just breathe. 

“Whatcha got there Lyds?” Mason asked full of curiosity, stealing her notebook. 

“Hey! Nothing worth showing, it’s not interesting.” She replied trying to get it back. 

“Lydia why do you keep writing the same thing over and over again?” Hayden asked. You all turned your heads in her direction, getting closer to her to see. 

“Your words have some sort of form… Like they just spelled another word.” Liam pointed out. 

“Stiles.” Mason read out loud. 

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Lydia questioned herself. And at that moment, your heart skipped a beat and coincidently your phone started ringing. That song and that name hit you like a truck and you remembered that beautiful, crocked smile. Those sweet hazel eyes. You remembered every little moment and every little detail with Stiles and most importantly you remembered him. 

“Stiles!” You cried out loud. 

“You know what it is?” Hayden asked. 

“Not what it is but who it is! Oh my God, Stiles.." 

"Who’s Stiles?” Malia asked you quite confused. 

“That’s why we’re feeling the way we are. That’s why there are parts of us and our memories missing! Because we’ve spent them with Stiles and he’s gone, he’s missing, the ghost riders took him and -” you stopped talking as you noticed everyone staring at you with a confused and concerned face. “Oh c'mon! He’s your BEST FRIEND Scott, he’s your ex-boyfriend and first love Malia, he’s your anchor and that’s why you can’t control yourself! He’s a big part of you Lydia! Sherriff Stilinski’s son!”

“Sherriff Stilinski has a son?” Mason questioned, intrigued. You were shocked. 

“Of course he has a son!” You yelled. Everyone was staring at you like you were crazy, pissing you off. “I’m going to talk to him.” You grabbed your backpack and ran out.

“But Aria!” They called out but in vain. You had Stiles’s hoodie in your backpack and you were going to use it to show the sherriff. You were determined and the pack didn’t want to leave you alone so they joined you. You found out through Parrish that the sherriff was home so you went there. You knocked loudly on the door, upset.

“Aria, calm down. Let me take this from here ok? Let me help you. This is not the best way to figure things out. Please.” Scott begged, trying to get you to calm down and understand but you were too upset to listen. You kept knocking at the door when suddenly it swang open.

“I heard it the first time, you don’t need to knock that much.” The sherriff answered, very annoyed. “What’s up? Do you kids need anything?” He asked.

“Hum Sherriff we wanted to ask you a question…” Scott started, glancing at you, then looking back at the sherriff. “Do you know anyone named Stiles?” You stood there in silence, staring at him, waiting for his response. For a moment it looked like he knew who he was or recognized the name and you gained hope. It felt like you were waiting hours for the answer with your heart pounding so loud, you could feel it in your head but it was only a couple of minutes.

“No, I don’t. Why? Should I?” You lost your hope and your heart was crushed. You felt yourself lose some of your strength and Lydia hugged you from behind.

“Let’s get out of here, we’ll figure this together and then we’ll come back.” She whispered to you but you weren’t going to let go by.

“No! Sherriff, Stiles is your son! Don’t you remember him?” You asked.

“I don’t have a son… Are you ok?”

“I’ll prove it!” You pushed him out of the way and ran upstairs towards Stiles’s room. They all followed you, shocked, trying to get you back. You opened the door and the room was empty. You took a look around the room speechless, with every piece of you hurting.

“Stiles…” You mumbled in pain. You couldn’t contain yourself and you started crying and fell to the floor.

“Aria,” Scott called, “let’s get out of here.” He begged again as he sat on the floor next to you, trying to confort you.

“No!” You got up. “Sherriff do you remember this?” You asked while you got Stiles’s hoodie out of your backpack and threw it at him. He caught it and stared at it for a bit.

“Well it does seem familiar and so does the smell of it. But no.” He answered, crushing your hope even more.

“Please, please try to remember. You have to remember.” You begged as you got closer to him.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Look it’s time for you to go, you’re not in your best state and you need to rest. I can help if you need anything. Do you need anything?” He asked politely.

“I need you to remember Stiles!” You yelled. “Look, right here”, you pointed to the left corner of the room, “is where his bed usually is. You put it here because he kept falling out of it in the middle of the night. Here, in this wall, is where he has his annoying, big ass Star Wars poster that you gave him. In this one right here he has his big cork board where he puts all of Beacon Hills’s cases and all the proof he can get on them. He even uses four different colored strings to categorize them! Green is for the solved ones, which he barely used, yellow are the ones that are to be determined, blue is –

“- just pretty and red are unsolved. I remember that.” Malia completed.

“Yes!” You cried out, getting your hopes up again. “And here he has a big window kind of thing where he writes all of his theories on the cases! And over here is his desk that is always so messy, which pisses you off, and there are papers all around and here he has a picture of you in a baseball game a few years ago.” You were so tired, you were trying so hard to get them to remember but it seemed so impossible.

“Why do you care so much?” The sherriff questioned you.

“Because you loved him.” You answered with a crack in your voice, bawling. The pack was now emotional and trying not to cry.

“Aria, I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything. As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a son.” The sherriff said, letting you down.

“What about this? Do you remember this?” You tried one last time, showing him your hand, specifically the ring on your finger.

“Where did you get that? That ring belongs –“

“- to Claudia. Your late wife and Stiles’s mother. You gave it to her when you realized you loved her and you kept it because it was something she loved so much. You gave it to Stiles and you told him your story and he told you he was going to give it in the future to the woman he loved as much as you love her.” You reminded him. Now he was in shock and emotional, feeling confused.

“That’s impossible.” He managed to say.

“It’s not. I’ll get out of your way.” You said, tired and beaten up, before exiting the room. You left the house and decided to go home. Your mind was all over the place but you were determined to come up with a plan to get Stiles back but for now you just gave up. You were so distracted that you didn’t even hear anyone calling you until you felt Scott’s hand touching you. You turned around to face him, not in the mood to listen to anyone.

“I believe you. I don’t remember anything yet but it does make sense. We’re in this together, ok?” You felt a little bit relieved that someone believed you, finally. “Let’s get Stiles back.”

I Was Part of the Queen’s Guard In England

by reddit user inaaace

This creepy story was top rated and many users were creeped out by it. 

I was in the English army, you know? Two tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan. My mom absolutely hated the life I chose, and I can’t really blame her. But you know what?

The fucked up part is that the biggest horror I’ve ever experienced wasn’t in one of those shitty eastern places, no, it was in the very center of European “civilization”, London.

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On The Fence

an: I have a serious fixation on Henry the matchmaker. Also it snowed a lot here this week and this is what happens in awful weather. I write silly fic.

On The Fence

“Neighbors, I’m on the fence about them.” - Jarod Kintz

At the first sign of snow at the house, Emma realizes she doesn’t own a snow shovel. It’s a horrifying realization, and she panics, thumbing through her HOA documents on the hope that the outrageous fees included sidewalk cleaning services, but of course they don’t.

Instead in tiny, miniscule print on the second to last page, there is a very clear warning that anyone who does not clear their sidewalks of snow will be met with fines from the HOA. Unspecified fines, with no clear time frame for this mandatory shoveling, and Jesus Emma was an idiot for moving to bumfuck-nowhere into a house, of all things.

But she’d started to worry about Henry - his behavior, and his creepy, rude friends, and so she’d researched for weeks to find a good school and a small, away from the city town, and when she’d seen the opening for deputies in middle-of-nowhere Maine, she’d pretty much jumped in the moving van right then and there.

Still. Emma can’t imagine how she thought she could own a house. She can’t even remember she needs to own a snow shovel.

It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday night, and there’s nothing in this whole town open past eight except the shady bar The Rabbit Hole and the diner/B&B Granny’s (she’s seen a lot of truckers going in and out of both, but no way in hell is she going in there all damsel in distress, begging for a snow shovel, because at thirty-one years old she still can’t adult.

Instead Emma stares forlornly at the blankets of heavy snow drifting from the sky and promises herself that first thing in the morning she will go to the hardware store and buy herself a freaking snow shovel.

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Okay, but imagine

Feysand son following his parents to a Day Court meeting (as he’s an heir in training) and seeing this lesser faerie, servant boy in Hellions residence and just feels his heart stop.
It’s not a mating bond snapping, just a note of importance with this person. Something that draws his eye. Something that scares this high lord and lady’s son into intimidation, but intrigued him nonetheless.
After the trip he volunteers at every opportunity to go to the Day Court.
After months of tiny errands (his parents clearly noticing somethings up but make no comment) he finally gets up the nerve to introduce himself to the beautiful boy.
And within a week of fumbling conversations and shy smiles and skeptical eye rises and witty communications, the Lord and Lady of the Night Court can no longer ignore the fact that their son and heir has basically completely been ignoring his duties.
They go to the Day Court to have a conversation with him about commitments and time management and priorities, only to winnow in on their son half naked and making out with his new boyfriend and scarring all four of them for life.

therechercherambler  asked:

I've never been particularly interested in Eol before, but your post about Thingol, where you said there were some hints that he's Thingol's son, got me intrigued (I love hearing about theories like this). What kind of evidence do you think there is?

Okay, this is mostly a circumstantial pet fan theory, so don’t expect quotes here, but!

Eol is among Thingol’s people at the point where they decide to cease in the Journey, but judging by his words to Turgon in Gondolin, he does not identify as one of the Teleri.  There’s no indication he taught Maeglin to think of himself as Telerin, either.  Neither are ever described as Grey-elves.  So there’s some reason he was with Thingol other than “of course I am; these are my people.”

Thingol granted him total lordship over Nan Elmoth, where Thingol met Melian (so this is an important and magical spot) and where no one else seems to hold any power over Eol – even the entire people of the Laiquendi, led by Saeros and Ithilbor, don’t hold that level of autonomy within Doriath.  Why is Eol so preferred that he doesn’t even seem to need to report to Thingol about his doings?

Eol paid for that territory with the sword Anglachel, an extremely powerful magical blade which was the mate to his own Anguirel.  Given the way he and Maeglin seem to regard Anguirel, he’d be unlikely to present his phallic symbol sword’s match to someone he had no connection to outside of “hey dude can I live here.”  Thingol, though, takes this rather amazing blade and chucks it in a storeroom where he doesn’t have to look at it (until Beleg fishes it out because it matches his bow).  There’s something goin’ on there.

Eol’s widely thought to have been an Avar, though there are other arguments one could make.  Thingol rejected the Avari and did not give them shelter within his borders when they fled Morgoth; there must be a reason why Eol (and perhaps his people; Maeglin’s chapter in the Silmarillion indicates he has some servants) represents an exception here.

Eol is known to have been in contact pretty regularly with dwarves.  Thingol hired the dwarves of Belegost to build his city of Menegroth.  Eol takes Maeglin with him on some of his journeys, but leaves him at home with his mother for others (specifically a time when he was visting dwarves), even though he has to know damn well that Aredhel uses that time to tell Maeglin things Eol doesn’t want their son to know.  But that’s a necessary evil if Eol wants to hide from Thingol that he has a grandchild who is also the grandson of the High King of the Noldor and could represent a way to re-legitimize Thingol’s claim over all of Beleriand.  This allows a marginally better motivation for some of Eol’s behavior toward his son: he wants to keep him isolated enough that Eol’s father can’t take an interest, which involves taking him along only when he’s visiting neutral territory or people who won’t mention to Thingol that Eol had a young boy with him.

Whether Eol is the son of Thingol and Melian during that 200-year blind date (probably unlikely since we hear nothing of Maeglin having Maiarin blood, although it would explain why Eol’s powers over Nan Elmoth and Aredhel seem so similar to Melian’s over Nan Dungortheb and Thingol) … or whether Thingol conceived Eol with an Avarin woman before meeting Melian and Eol was traveling in his party, but not identifying as a subject per se (my preferred theory) … Eol being Thingol’s estranged son explains the weirdness of their relationship.

… In fact, there’s an AU I’m thinking of writing where one of the major plot points is that Maeglin and Dior markedly resemble one another.

#96 Single Dad

Louis: He made sure to put it out there on the first date, rather than get his hopes up by waiting several dates into it, to the point where he’s quite interested in the girl to finally tell her the truth. He had learned that that was definitely not the way to go. That’s why he laid it out for you on your first date. “I’d just like to put it out there,” He started, prepared for one of two reactions. Either you’d be disgusted that he had a son or intrigued about it. “I’ve got a son and he’s my main priority and I dont want to sound like a jerk but I’d like to know your stance on that before we take anything too far.” A silent moment passed but it felt like a lifetime. Harry had set him up with you, claiming that you were his perfect match and arranged this entire date for you both. Harry had talked you up to him and he would even admit that he was excited for this. “Really?” You feigned disappointment. Louis sighed, this would be the option he was dreading. He nodded, focusing on everything but you while silently cursing Harry for putting him in this situation. “I’m kidding!” You laughed at his gullibility. Resting your hand on his arm, you giggled at his confused reaction. “Harry told me about Freddie. Even show me a picture and I nearly melted at the sight. He’s the tiniest little thing and I think he’s lucky to have a father who would sacrifice his personal relationships for him.” Louis smiled, unable to keep the grin off his face. This turned out much better than he expected and it had only just begun. Maybe Harry was right about this one…

Liam: “Bye, Daddy,” Little six year old Abigail said as she gave Liam a tight hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow since you better be asleep when I get back, cupcake. Uncle Harry will take good care of you, just try not to stay up too late because we both know Harry can’t tell you no.” She grinned innocently before running towards Harry. He instantly picked her up, throwing her in the air before holding her to his hip so her could converse with Liam for a moment. “Have fun, mate. You deserve the time off. And I’m sure she’s gotta be a special girl if she’s got you dating again.” Liam smiled, kissing Abby’s forehead before he shook off his nerves. “She is.” It had been four years since Abby’s mother died in a car crash and Liam doubted he’d be able to move past it—to move past her. But you seemed to mend the hole that she had left. And he found himself making excuses to visit the grocery multiple times a week in hopes of seeing you working there. He had been out of the dating game for so long but he was determined to win your heart like you had seemingly stolen his.

Niall: He was nervous as well as excited. In two days was his fourteen year old daughter, Ariana’s dance recital. She had been practicing at home nonstop, even when she had sprained her ankle and Niall had to bribe her to stop so that she didn’t worsen the injury any further. This was her first solo and she was determined to make it perfect. She was fidgeting in her seat out of excitement while Niall drove her to practice. Normally, he’d drop her off and pick her up and hour and a half later but she had begged him to watch her and Niall always had a problem denying her. She ran off to stretch as soon and the arrived, leaving Niall to take an empty seat among the other dance moms who were there to watch their daughters. “Who’s your daughter?” He heard from beside him, causing him to jump from his thoughts . He had been so focused on Ariana that he didn’t realize the assistant dance teacher had taken a seat beside him. “Ariana Horan.” You nodded, now observing the focused, brunette haired girl dance with such precision and skill that made it clear this was a passion of hers. “She’s good,” You said. “She really puts her heart into this.” Noticing that you were focusing on the girls, Niall took the opportunity to shamelessly stare at you. Ari had talked about a new assistant teacher joining and how nice and helpful she was, but Niall had never expected her to make his heart flutter with every word you said, despite how little he had spoken with you. He didn’t expect to feel these butterflies fill his stomach just because of the close proximity to which you sat near him. “She’s always practicing at home,” He continued, smiling fondly at the thought. “Always makes me watch her to be sure that she’s doing it right, as if I know anything about dance.” He said, causing you to giggle. “If you want, she could always stay behind here after the other girls leave and I could work with her a little more. I don’t think she needs it but I’d be glad to help if she really wants it.” Niall smiled and nodded. He knew that Ari was quite fond of you, and now he knew why, so he automatically knew she would agree to extra help from you. You quickly excused yourself when you saw another girl struggling with a certain step and you jumped to help demonstrate it better. Niall hadn’t been on a date in years (despite how unsuccessful the last one had been and he wasn’t sure if it should count since his babysitter fell through and his date had shown up before Niall had a chance to call and reschedule the date. That night was spent entertaining Ariana, who was eight at the time, with baking sweets and watching Barbie movie after Barbie movie. Needless to say, there wasn’t a second date). Since that, Niall hadn’t even willingly wanted to date but he couldn’t help but imagine what a date with you would be like. You seemed fun loving so a simple dinner or lunch date wouldn’t work. He’d need something memorable—maybe he could take you bowling or to the coffee shop’s weekly trivia night. That’s when Niall realized that he had planned out an entire date night with you despite not even having asked you out yet. And he assumed that that definitely had to be a sort of sign for him to make his move, his heart was telling him something his brain would have never considered so, after practice ended, he promised himself he’d ask you out. He had a good feeling about this.

Harry: Harry loved kids. Especially babies. And he was great with caring for them as well. But it seemed like the world wanted to put him to the test. He was soon blessed with two twin girls and had to adapt to single parenting quite quickly as it seemed like their mother wanted nothing to do with them. She was willing to put them both up for adoption but Harry would never allow that to happen. You were really his saving grace. Without you, he probably would have died from exhaustion because his eight months year old girls, Lilyana and Layla, have something against letting Harry sleep for 3 straight hours without any interruptions. At first, he had hired you as a nanny but he never expected such strong attraction to come from it. His girls loved you and just having you around to help with them and maybe even prepare dinner for when he returns home from work was yet another blessing he received. “Y'know,” He whispered, gently rocking Lilyana to keep her asleep as he spoke. “It’s late and the winter storm warning just went up so you could always stay the night if you want. Layla always seem to calm down for you better than she does for me anyways.” He held his breath as he waited for your answer. Secretly, he had wanted a way to subtly ask you on a date and he hoped that you staying the night would give him enough confidence to ask you out properly by the morning arrived. “I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, Becca will be worried if I don’t show up home.” You politely declined as you patted Layla’s back, hoping for a burp before you had to hand her off to Harry and head home. “Please,”He pleaded. “I’d feel just awful if you had to walk in this storm and it’s too late for me to drive you without waking them. Just spend the night, the guest room’s spotless, and I’ll even pay you extra for the inconvenience.” “Nonsense,” You succumbed. “I’ll take you up on the guest room but I’m not accepting any money to sleep in a room that’s bigger than my kitchen and living room combined.”He would make any compromise if it meant you spending the night, but he’d be sure to sneak a few extra dollars in your pay. He smiled into Lilyana’s short tuft of hair at getting his way. Maybe, he’d make his move tomorrow…

I was a part of Queen's Guard in England - One of the rare jobs where you aren't allowed to move, no matter what stands in front of you.

This happened to my brother-in-law two years ago. I am telling the story exactly the way he told me it. He appeared very genuine when telling it, and, you know what, after all that’s happened to me, I have no reason not believe him. And as for you, well, you be the judge.

I was in the English army, you know? Two tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan. My mom absolutely hated the life I chose, and I can’t really blame her. But you know what? The fucked up part is that the biggest horror I’ve ever experienced wasn’t in one of those shitty eastern places, no, it was in the very center of European “civilization”, London.

After I finished my third tour, I was awarded by the army. Apparently, surviving fighting Taliban in the mountains is reason enough to be honored. They offered me a spot in Queen’s Guard. I’m not sure how much you know about that, but in England, it’s a pretty big deal. And I hated it. I was permanently stationed at home, and as a reward for my “bravery” I was now standing in front of buildings motionless while annoying Chinese tourists tried to make me laugh. I wanted out, but the honor of the position, combined with my mother’s happiness that the biggest danger I could ever face would be an Asian tourist, I had no choice but to do it. Only if I knew I’d be safer in some cave in Kabul…

So I was stationed to work at the Tower of London few shifts a week. Shifts were usually 2-3 hours long, depending on how many people worked that day. Gotta tell you, that job gets old quickly. Drunk people who try to mess with you along with annoying tourists who think they’re the first ones ever to try to make you laugh, you just want out of your own skin. But it was a job, and it paid, so I shut the fuck up and did it.

Now, this one day, this one day in 2012 started boring as any other day. I had a few French guys trying to mess with me (god they’re the worst, and you can’t do shit unless they threaten you), then I had a group of drunk Russian chicks which wasn’t so bad. The heat was just starting to melt that fucking hat into my skull when a huge group of tourists showed up. Some sort of a guided tour, I assumed. They all did their standard spiel, pictures, “funny” faces, jokes, etc. They all had their cameras out, and they all wore same t-shirts, some Big Ben tour bullshit. All but one. I noticed her standing in the back, just staring at me. She was a good looking woman, probably early forties, really dark long hair and somewhat pale, which made me think she was English. She did seem to be the part of the tour as she stood with all of the others.

After the group finally took enough pictures and realized I wasn’t gonna laugh, they started moving on. Except the pale woman who stayed and kept watching me. Now, I’ve seen my fair share of people doing all kinds of stupid stuff to get a reaction out of me, but this was a new one. Not only that, this lady was committed. Two hours and hundreds of tourists later, she still stood in the very same spot, just staring at me. The day got pretty hot and there was no way she was comfortable, but I shit you not, she was calmer than I was. She wasn’t smiling which was strange because I assumed she was trying to make me react. About thirty minutes later, when the crowd around me slowly died out, she took a slow step towards me. Then another one. “Here we go, joke incoming” I thought as she took her sweet time walking up closer.

She stopped about two feet away from me. She was looking straight into my eyes. Tilted her head to the left, then to the right, which I assumed was her attempt at making me laugh. Then I realized this woman wasn’t here to joke around. Still standing at two feet away, she started leaning towards me. There was something just so fucked up about her mannerisms that made me extremely uneasy. She never lost an eye contact with me. She kept leaning towards me while her feet never moved. Her face stopped just short of touching mine and her position seemed unnatural at that point. Her head started slowly shaking, like when you get out of the pool or a shower and are freezing, you know? And then, then she scared the fucking shit out of me. I had people screaming in my face, I even had a moron trying to fight me, but what she did was by far the worst. She opened her mouth as if she were about to let the loudest scream at me, but nothing came out. Nothing. She just stood there, leaned at an unnatural angle, inches from my face, letting a fucking silent scream or whatever that was out of her wide open mouth. And the speed of her shaking increased. Now, I’m not gonna lie, even though it was really hot that day, I started feeling cold and goosebumps ran under my uniform. I finally got myself together and started marching away from her – we are allowed to do a 10-step march occasionally.

When I got to the end of one way, I stopped and closed my eyes. I just wanted her to be gone when I turned around. As I made a 180 degree turn, I instantly froze. She was right in front of me; leaned all the way to my face, mouth open even wider, head now shaking uncontrollably. I was so taken aback, I was unable to react. Noise, screaming, and other stuff I can deal with, but this silent creepy fucking behavior was honestly intimidating me.
“Make way for the Queens Guard!” I yelled. We are allowed to say that when someone is in our way. She didn’t react, but she did lean farther to about an inch from my face.
“MAKE WAY FOR THE QUEEN’S GUARD” I yelled even louder, hoping my voice wouldn’t break.
She had absolutely zero regard for my orders. Unwilling to deal with the bullshit any longer, I stepped back and pointed my bayonet at her. That was our last resort for annoying tourists.
She immediately closed her mouth and leaned back into a normal human position. I wasn’t going to wait for her to do whatever she was about to do, so I started marching around her. When I got back to my post, I turned around and stood still. I couldn’t see her in the corner of my eye which gave me a huge relief. “Jesus, this fucking job” I thought to myself “I’m gonna have to look into…”
“10, 9, 8” someone whispered in my right ear. It must be her. She was behind me.
“10, 9, 8” whispers came from my left side. Goosebumps were at an all-time erect now. Hilarious, isn’t it? Combat vet, killed more people than he’d ever want to admit, is now scared to hell of some batshit tourist lady.
“10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8” she sped up her whispering. Then walked in front of me. “10, 9, 8, 10, 9, 8” she was now whispering incredibly fast. Actually, whispering doesn’t describe it properly. It was like yelling, but in a whisper tone, if that makes any sense. It was surreal. She leaned towards my face again, whispering those fucking numbers franticly.
I was about to break my orders. I couldn’t take it anymore. There was something fucked up about this woman, and I couldn’t deal with it.
“Ma’m,” I spoke in a voice of the biggest scared pussy, “Ma’m will you please step…”
And then, a huge group of loud tourist ran up to us. The crazy woman leaned back, still looking at me. She whispered “10, 9, 8” one more time while never losing an eye contact. Then she walked away, as slowly as she moved around me. It was so strange watching her slowly disappear into the crowd. All that was left was a strange feeling of something unnatural. That, and a group of life-saving Asian tourists. Never thought I’d be so happy to see a Nikon-snapping Chinese guy.

After my shift was done, I went into our base and told the story to a couple of guys. They all had some experience with creepy people, but never on this level. When our shift commander came, guys jokingly told him how I was “abused” on duty. He wanted some laughs, so he asked for the full story. But when I started telling what happened, he quickly lost his smile.
“Stop, stop,” he said. “Did you talk to her?”
“Sir?” I asked intrigued.
“Son, did you or did you not speak to this woman?”
I wasn’t gonna lose my weekly pay over breaking that stupid no-talking rule, so I lied. “Of course not, sir.”
He seemed to calm down. “Good. And if she ever comes back, never talk back, understood? And that goes for all of you.”
Joking atmosphere quickly died out in the break room. I was puzzled, but I was even more tired, so I decided to go home and sleep instead of worrying about crazy fucking tourists.

Next few shifts went by as boring as they were supposed to be. Woman was nowhere to be seen, and since my girlfriend was about to visit me all the way from Netherlands, I forgot about the incident.
Tuesday night around 3am, I was awoken by loud banging at the door. For some strange reason, the first thought that crossed my mind was that fucked up woman from a week ago.
“Babe, would you mind peeping through the hole to see who it is?” I lazily mumbled as I gently pushed my girlfriend. She was dead asleep; I swear nothing could wake her up. Semi-conscious, I stumbled through the hallway and to the door. “Who is it?” I muttered while peeking through the hole, but it was too dark outside. That sobered me up. “Who is it?” I asked again, but the only answer I got was louder banging.
“Fuck it” I thought as I took a deep breath and opened the door.
There are about million things I’d rather see standing in front of me at that moment. And there was only one person I did not expect to be at the door.
My girlfriend.
I was supposed to pick her up tonight.
I nearly lost all control of my legs. Thousand things raced through my mind which was having trouble comprehending what in the fuck was happening.
“Thanks for picking me up at the Heathrow, asshole,” my girlfriend said as she slammed the carryon on my chest. I was still speechless.
“So, I travel all the way from Amsterdam to see you, and you forget? Really?”
I wasn’t hearing it. I knew I was half asleep when I got up, but there WAS someone in my bed. I wasn’t dreaming for fuck’s sake.
“Stay here” I mumbled as I handed her the bag back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just stay here.”
Not knowing where I got the courage to walk to the bedroom, I slowly made my way.
I know what you’re thinking – in movies and books, guy walks into the room and boom, its empty, right? I fucking wish.
I walked into my room and it was completely dark. But I could hear breathing. Heavy breathing. My pulse was so high I was sure I was gonna pass out, but I flipped the switch.
“7, 6, 5, 7, 6, 5” whispers came from the corner of the room where she stood. That same fucking woman. She stood almost glued to the corner of the room, her back to the wall. She was looking straight at me. And though I was sure I lost the power of speech, I managed to squeeze out a “What the fuck”.
“7, 6, 5” she said as she took the first slow step towards me. Her mouth was always wide open, as if she were letting out that damn soundless scream. Every step she’d make, she’d close her mouth enough to say “7, 6, 5”.
I couldn’t move. Nothing in this world existed besides this woman slowly walking towards me. What a creepy and unsettling feeling. Like, I wasn’t physically afraid of her, right? I could take her down – and was ready to. But this kind of fear was something foreign to me. Seemed like I was afraid for my, shit, I don’t know, soul? You know what I mean? I knew she couldn’t hurt me physically, but I was stills scared. Not to mention I fucking somehow slept in the same bed with this whatever the fuck she is.
She came incredibly close to me. The familiar lean. An inch from my face. My breathing was so irregular and loud, it was the only noise in the room.
“7, 6, 5.”
Suddenly, something about this had a strangely familiar feeling.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” scream came from behind me.
My girlfriend.

I snapped into reality, turned around and grabbed my girl. “Run!” I yelled as we escaped the room. We ran to the kitchen where I grabbed one of those “As seen on TV” steel-cutting knives. My girlfriend was just silently weeping at my side, unable to even ask questions.

I could hear footsteps. First, I saw her shadow, then I saw her calmly walking through the hallway. Her mouth was now so unnaturally wide open, and she wasn’t looking at me anymore. She was looking at the ceiling as she slowly made her way to the door. Her head was shaking very fast. It was abso-fucking-lutely surreal, I’m telling you. I mean, just imagine, this woman, who creeped you out a week ago, is now walking through your place at 3 in the morning, staring at the ceiling with mouth impossibly wide open. Not to mention you slept next to her for who knows how long.

When she finally walked out, I ran to the door and slammed it. Girlfriend was still unable to speak. When we got ourselves together, I was afraid she’d think I cheated on her with this woman, but she didn’t. She saw that horror walk through out hallway and she knew something was wrong.

I was terrified, but I didn’t let it show. The scariest part of everything was that I had a job that required me to stand still and not react to my surroundings. I told my girlfriend about my experience with this fucked up woman, but I didn’t mention her “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5” whispers. I didn’t want to scare her any further.
Because , what could those whispers be if not a countdown?

Part II can be found here.

I watched my son last night get so intrigued with Kal (my dog) that he ended up falling asleep, literally, on top of the pooch. Right when I think things can’t get any cuter, he manages to blow me away with these little actions. What’s your favorite or yours? Or… if you haven’t had a child yet - any big hopes for your child?

Preference 160: Photo creds to the paps.

Harry: Very similar to Harry, you preferred to ignore anyone who tried to interrupt your normal days– mainly paps. It was no surprise to you when you came out of the bank to find a dozen men with cameras waiting for you by your car, but you didn’t even have to energy to acknowledge them any further than a tight-lipped, polite smile. For some reason, they accepted what little you gave them, and were able to slip away without any problems, but sometimes it wasn’t always that easy. Thankfully, your boyfriend was the famous one, which meant you didn’t get nearly as many questions as he did, since you’d probably end up lunging at one of them after a certain amount of inquiries.

Liam: No matter how many paps and fans there were outside the store you were shopping at with your two best friends, you refused to not be in a good mood. The three of you skipped out of the building, your phone in your hand as you texted Liam. The fans politely asked you for a few pictures, and after asking your friends if it was alright, you began smiling for photos as paps snapped their own. Even though it could get exhausting to be under a spotlight so often, you knew that you had opportunities that few others had, and accepted the few cons to it. You loved your boyfriend’s fans, and they loved you, which was something that pleased everyone, including the paparazzi, who got plenty of shots that day. So making everyone happy was possible!

Louis: Your sister had always teased you a little about being famous and everything, but she’d never really experienced the difficulty of being under a microscope all the time. She found out soon enough, though, when she visited you and the boys on tour and had to get through an enormous mob of people in LAX. You’d adapted enough that you trusted the large men surrounding you to protect you, but your sister hadn’t known how seriously crazy it’d be, and resorted to holding her bag in front of her face. She was astonished when the six of you bounced back in the van almost immediately and couldn’t help but question how you lived through that every day. “Hey, look! Somebody already posted pictures of that!” Niall laughed when he found a picture of you and your sibling on Twitter. “How the hell do you people live with that every day?” she asked. Smirking a little, you responded with a sarcastically mysterious response. “Our struggles can never be lived with; only dealt with, my young one.”

Niall: The only bad thing about surprising Niall while he was on tour was that it had to be a complete secret or he wouldn’t be surprised. Because of that, you couldn’t tell anyone but Paul. (You wouldn’t tell Paul either, but you probably wouldn’t be able to get into the hotel without his knowing.) Sadly, this meant you were on your own when it came to fighting through the paparazzi that somehow knew when and where you’d be landing. Your preferred method of survival was to keep your head down and sometimes even cover your face while quietly but firmly making your way to the car that was waiting for you outside. It was typical for the photographers to post some picture or videos online to let fans and speculators know your whereabouts, which could sometimes lead to Niall finding out ahead of time that you were visiting. No matter what, though, your mood couldn’t really be ruined when you knew you’d be seeing your boyfriend in just a matter of minutes.

Zayn: While you toured with the boys, you’d made plans for you and your son to meet up with your American friend and her daughter so the four of you could hang out a bit and catch up. Since most paparazzi didn’t realize that you’d be taking your son out or going out at all, getting to the restaurant wasn’t too difficult. Getting back to the venue for the night’s concert, though, was not very quiet. There were around thirty paps on the perimeter of the property, and on your way in you had to walk by them with a small gap of around five feet between you. Of course, every one of them spewed out questions and snapped millions of pictures when you neared them, but you were used to it and your son was too busy being intrigued by the strange men and their large cameras to be bothered by them. Later that week, a few fans tweeted you an adorable picture of the two of you, which you decided to tweet with a sweet but slightly sassy caption to it.

Welcome to HERE. My #DailySketch

If I had my way I would do nothing but draw images and stories of characters discovering odd worlds and encountering strange people or things. It’s all I want to do. Those are the kinds of stories I want to tell. I wish there was more of a place in the direct market for this kind of material. Not just for me as a creator who wants to make and sell it there, but as a fan of those kind of stories, and a father who’s son is intrigued by them as well.