stroking beard

Teddy Bear

Summary: Sebastian is a fuzzy teddy bear!! 

Word Count: 1.3k (oops…)

A/N: this little idea came from my beloved @justasunflower, and some new old pics of Seba today [see below], so I hope you all enjoy! :)



Keep reading

just a bet part ii

hey!

sorry this took way longer than i wanted (writers block LOLLLL)

but anyway yeah this is lowkey a filler kinda chapter but i like it

enjoy!

summary:  beverly bets richie he can’t get with the new kid, eddie, in under three months. richie disagrees

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 1698

part one, three, four, five


2 months and 26 days remaining

Richie walked into school that day, feeling more confident and happy than he had been in a while. It was odd, yes, but he enjoyed the feeling more than it worried him. He approached his locker, finding Beverly leaning against it. “Why, hello, Beverly. Nice to join me this wonderful morning.”

Beverly snickered. “So, I’m guessing it went well? He show up?”

Richie nodded. “Of course he did!” Richie said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I woo-ed him so good he came to my game and we got ice cream after.”

She chuckled, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I gotta admit, Tozier, you’ve got game.”

He scoffed. “Mrs. Marsh! I’ve always had game, thank you very much. I pride myself in all of my lovable characteristics.”

“Like you have any of those.” Beverly retorted.

“I have so many of those!” Richie defended. “So many, in fact, that we’re getting ice cream after school today.”

Beverly raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously gay.”

Richie rolled his eyes and chuckled a little. “What an assumption.” He closed his locker and started to walk towards English, where they’d discuss the bet with Bill and Stan.

Beverly sighed. “You know, Eddie isn’t even that attractive. Why didn’t I make you go after like… Mike or something.”

“I like Mike as a friend, Bev, plus Eds is cute from my personal opinion,” Richie said back, sitting down at his table.

“Did you just call him Eds? And cute? Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I would suggest you liked this Eddie Kaspbrak.” Beverly grinned, sitting down in her chair.

Richie shook his head. “I don’t like him. It’s just a bet, that’s all.”

But was it? Richie never felt like he did around Eddie around anyone else. It was weird how oddly happy he was, giddy even. Do I like him?

No. Richie shook his head a bit as if to get the thought out of his head. He didn’t like Eddie like that. This was a bet and that’s all. Just a bet.

Eddie walking through the main hallway, weaving through the many students walking the other direction. Richie had texted Eddie and asked- well- demanded that they go get ice cream again. He wasn’t opposed to it as Richie was paying, but he did find it odd. Everyone was saying Richie was a horrible guy but he didn’t understand where that notion was coming from. He seemed so nice. Annoying, yes, but nice.

“Eds!” Eddie heard as he approached Richie who was leaning against his old, beat-up truck. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Richie chuckled, reaching in his truck’s open window to unlock it. “Hop in, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, opening the squeaky passenger seat door and sitting down. He clicked the belt buckle into place as he looked over at Richie. “Don’t call me that either.”

Richie scoffed. “Then what am I gonna call you?”

“Gee, I don’t know, what about Eddie?” He retorted sassily.

Richie acted like he was pondering it, stroking an invisible beard. “Nah.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again.

“If you keep rolling your eyes, they’ll roll right out of their sockets.” He joked, pushing the car key into the ignition and turning the car on.

“I think I’d like that so I don’t have to do it anymore.”

Eddie tried to hide his smile as Richie laughed, turning into the parking lot of the ice cream shop. Richie turned the truck off, hopping out of it quick enough to open Eddie’s door before he could.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I can open the door by myself, you know.”

“I do, however, I am being gentlemanly,” Richie responded.

Eddie resisted the urge to roll his eyes and got out of the truck, following behind Richie who had already started walking towards the door. He opened the door for Eddie, who eyed Richie and mumbled that “he could still open the door himself.”

Richie walked up the counter. The worker, whose nametag said, Rachel. “Oh, Richie, hey!” She gave him a warm smile.

Richie gave her a grin. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good. I’m about to get off work in a bit… maybe if you’re free if you’d like to hang out at my place?”

“Well-”

“Oh, c’mon, it’d be fun!”

Eddie watched his conversation from where he was standing behind Richie and he felt his blood boil. Why was he so angry? It was like someone had turned a switch on in him and he immediately felt the need to interject. “He’s not.”

“Excuse me?” She turned to look at Eddie.

“He’s not free.” He repeated. “He’s here with me.”

Richie had a shit-eating grin on his face. “I am here with Eddie Spaghetti.” He said, throwing his arm around Eddie’s shoulder. The girl’s face dropped and it was replaced with one of disgust. “You’re dating him? Really, Richie? You can do so much better than that.”

Richie scoffed. “Well, it’s not really your place, now is it? Maybe I should tell your boyfriend that you’ve tried to cheat on him with me. Twice. Now, that is someone who can do better.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Richie responded, a smirk growing on his face. “Remember when Bella Richardson tried to do the same thing you’re doing? You wrote slut on her locker last month when, big shocker, you were doing the same damn thing! Now, can I order or what?”

She let out a long, frustrated sigh before looking up at a grinning Richie. “What do you want?”

“Finally! I’ll have one scoop of chocolate and Eddie will have one scoop of mint chocolate chip.” He said, handing her a five dollar bill. She gave Richie his change and got the ice cream, sliding it over to them with a fake smile on her face. “Have a nice day.”

Richie gave her one right back, handing Eddie his bowl and walking outside with him. “Wow, Eds, I didn’t think you had it in ya to get jealous like that. Also, mint is gross and tastes like toothpaste. I don’t know how you eat it.”

Eddie nearly choked on his ice cream. “What?”

“I said, mint is gro-”

“Not that! I was not jealous, Tozier.”

“Then what was it?” He asked, looking both ways before crossing the road. “I sure think it was something.”

“I was dealing with her for you,” Eddie replied, following next to him. “Besides, why would I be jealous? I don’t even like you. I only came because you paid.”

Richie gasped. “You don’t like me? Gee, Eds, I thought with all the blushing you’ve been doing that you did.”

Eddie felt his face heat up. “Shut the fuck up. I do not like you, hear me?”

Richie grinned. “Hear ya loud n’ clear.”

“Also, mint does not taste like toothpaste. Have you ever even tried it? It tastes nothing like-” Eddie’s ramble was cut short as he nearly tripped and landed right on his face. Richie reached out, grabbing Eddie’s waist to prevent him from falling. He had dropped his ice cream in the process.

Richie stood Eddie upright and scowled. “I have no ice cream now because of you.”

Eddie was blushing like mad, his stomach had tightened up into knots. All Richie had done was catch him, why did he feel so euphoric? Eddie made a face and handed Richie his. “Try it.”

Richie shook his head.

“Try it!”

“Damn, alright.” He said, taking the spoon from Eddie and putting a small amount of the green ice cream in his mouth. “Okay, I take my previous statement back. That is good.”

Richie hopped into the driver’s seat, turning the car on and immediately turning the radio on as well. He turned the knob up, the speakers sounding like they were on the verge of breaking. “I love this song!”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Africa? You like.. Africa?”

Richie scoffed. “Of course I do!”

Eddie watched as Richie drove, singing the lyrics obnoxiously loudly. He was mumbling the lyrics under his breath. There was a red light as the chorus approached and Richie took the opportunity to look to Eddie. “C’mon! Sing it, I know you know it!”

Eddie looked over at him as it started. “It’s gonna take a lot to take me away from you!” Richie sang, pointing at Eddie.

He smiled, blushing a bit. “There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!”

Richie grinned. “I bless the rains down in Africa! Gonna take some time to do the things we never had!”

Eddie felt a wave of happiness fall over him. He didn’t know why he felt this way around Richie. In that moment, watching the other boy sing off-key and way too loudly, that he liked Richie. He really did.

Richie snuck a glance over at Eddie, to find him smiling to himself. This caused him to smile as well, continuing to sing the song until it was over. A foreign feeling washed over Richie as he watched the smaller boy drum to the beat in the air with his hands. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Was this just a bet?

Richie nearly crashed the car with the thought of that. Of course, it was just a bet. He didn’t like Eddie, it was only for the bet. Sure, he was a cool guy and all but Richie had no romantic feelings for him.

Or did he? He couldn’t contain his smiles around him and he felt more compelled to be with Eddie.

But it was just a stupid bet. That’s all it’ll ever be, a bet.


heeeeyyyyY!YYY

wowowowowowow 

masterlist

taglist?/part three???

thank you for reading <3

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Someone’s YA Dystopian Future novel is going to feature one character being a natural leader and then revealing:

“I was at the Fyre Festival in 2017.”

The whole camp went quiet, with the exception of Daran, who swore softly. Chelsea looked like she was about to cry; Pete laughed softly with disbelief. “You were at the Fyre Festival?”

Craig nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving the flames in front of him. “One of the first ones in. One of the last ones out.”

Susan furrowed her brow, trying to piece the words together. Would it be inappropriate to ask him? Was it a religious thing? A massacre?

“What’s a Fire Festival?” The question slipped from her lips before she could help it, and suddenly all eyes were on her–all except Craig’s. The fire still flickered inside them.

“There was just one. The Fyre Festival, with a ‘y’. They thought it was clever.” He sighed, stroked his beard, and shifted a little before continuing. “It was supposed to be a simple weekend in the Bahamas. Me and a bunch of other rich kids packed our clothes, gathered our things, and took a plane down south. Everything was going smoothly…but when we hit the first landing strip, that’s when we started to realize that something had gone awry. Instead of seeing a private beach in front of us, we saw a crowded tourist trap. We were promised private jets, fancy boats, the full VIP experience…” His eyes flicked up to her, and though his mouth curved up in a smile, the eyes did not share in it. “But none of that was anywhere to be seen. We thought it would be fine, all we had to do was get our things, make sure they were together, and they’d lead us to the hotel, but…it was already growing dark, and that’s when the luggage arrived. Unloaded from one of those giant storage containers, the big ones, like you see on the docks. Just tossed out to the crowd, one after another. No conveyer belts, no lockers, no express deliveries to the rooms…and it was when I finally got my bag, with a dented crease along the side, like it had been resting under someone’s golf clubs, that I realized: everything had gone wrong.

“Anyway, I’m standing there with this bag, and it occurs to me how hungry I am, so I start looking for the restaurant. I was young, and foolish…fortunately, Gabe was young and foolish, too, so we both headed off to find the restaurant, thinking it would be there.”

His smile widened, showing those teeth again. “There was no restaurant. They fed us sandwiches–small, flat, flimsy sandwiches, with that bread you see on a gas station shelf, and some meat they said was ham. A single wilted piece of lettuce and a piece of rubbery cheese were the condiments, if you could call them that…Gabe said he saw someone with a ketchup packet. I didn’t believe him. Served in a white styrofoam box.

“Anyway, this would be regal fare to us today, but back then, to us, it might as well have been cow dung. I saw three people vomiting their food right back out; the girl next to me saw the same thing, and she became number four. I don’t know how many of us managed to actually choke our way through the meal, or how many of us actually made it back to go onto the plane, but I do know this: there were two thousand of us left in that village when the last boat left the island. Two thousand of us left to fend for ourselves. 

“When the sun rose the next day, we were one thousand nine hundred and ninety four. Four of us were missing; two were dead. It was then that I realized that this was going to be a live-or-die situation. I chose to live.”


I would continue with this but it is late and I needed sleep an hour ago.

LoS Part 1: Snippets from Tumblr

From tumblr:

1.  “Actually, it’s short for Maximum Lightwood,” said Magnus. “As in the most amount of Lightwood you can have.”

2.  Far below them the world spun by, a patchwork of summer-gold fields, green hills, and luminous, winding rivers of blue and green. It was beautiful, but Julian could not take his eyes off his brother. So this is the Wild Hunt, he thought. This freedom, this expanse, this ferocity of joy. For the first time, he understood how and why Mark’s choice to stay with his family might not be an easy one. For the first time he thought in wonder of how much his brother must love him after all, to consider giving up the sky for his sake.

3. And even odder, when Mark and Kieran had come into the library, Kieran had gone immediately over to Max and picked him up, delighted by his blue skin and his tiny horns.Max had stuck his hand into Kieran’s wavy hair and pulled. Kieran had just laughed. “That’s right, it changes color, little nixie-like warlock,” he said. “Look.” And his hair went from blue-black to blue in an instant. Max giggled.“I didn’t know you could do that on purpose,” said Mark, who had always thought of Kieran’s hair as a reflection of his moods, uncontrollable as the tides.“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Mark Blackthorn,” Kieran said, setting Max down.Alec and Magnus had exchanged a look at that, the sort of look that made Mark feel as if they had reached a silent and agreed-upon consensus …

4.  “You’re going to have to learn to live with it,” Jules said. “Even if it horrifies you, Emma. Even if it makes you sick. Just like I’m going to have to live with whatever other boyfriends you have, because we are forever no matter how, Emma, no matter what you want to call what we have, we will always be us.”

5. They threw their weapons down and hurled themselves toward the row of horses, one after the other — Livvy leapt at Julian, throwing her arms around his neck. Mark flung himself from his horse and landed to find himself being hugged tightly by Dru and Tavvy. Ty came more quietly, but with the same incandescent happiness on his face. He waited for Livvy to be done nearly strangling her brother and then stepped in to take Julian’s hands.And Julian, who Kit had always thought of as an almost frightening model of control and distance, grabbed his brother and yanked him close, his hands twisting in the back of Ty’s shirt. His eyes were shut, and Kit had to look away.He had never had anyone but his father, and he was sure beyond any words that his father had never loved him like that.

6. “Clary, what are you not telling me?”There was a long silence. Clary looked out toward the dark water, biting her lip. Finally, she spoke. “Jace asked me to marry him.”“Oh!” Emma had already begun opening her arms to hug the other girl when she caught sight of Clary’s expression. She froze. “What’s wrong?”

7. There was a long silence. Magnus sighed. “I have to hand it to you,” he said. “I never thought Jace and Clary would be topped by anyone else in terms of insane, self-destructive decisions, but you all are giving them a run for their money.”“I really had nothing to do with this,” Kieran pointed out stiffly.“I think you will find many poor decisions led you here, my friend,” Magnus said. “All right, you — all of you — wait here. And don’t do anything stupid.”He strode out of the room on long, black-clad legs, swearing under his breath.“He’s getting more and more like Gandalf,” said Emma, watching him go. “I mean, a hot, younger-looking Gandalf, but I keep expecting him to start stroking his long white beard and muttering darkly.

8. There was a commotion atop the pavilion, and a single blast from a horn shattered the murmuring quiet in the clearing. The gentry looked up. A tall figure had appeared beside the throne. He was all in white, salt-white, with a doublet of white silk and gauntlets of white bone. White horns curled from either side of his head, startling against the blackness of his hair. A gold band encircled his forehead.Cristina exhaled. “The King.”Emma could see his profile: it was beautiful. Clear, precise, clean like a drawing of something perfect. Emma couldn’t have described the shape of his eyes or cheekbones or the crook of his mouth, and she lacked Jules’ ability to paint it, but she knew it was uncanny and wonderful and that she would remember the face of the King of the Seelie Court for all of her life.He turned, bringing his face into full view. Emma heard Cristina gasp faintly. The King’s face was divided down the middle. The right side was the face of a handsome young man, luminous with youth and beauty. The left side was an inhuman mask, gray skin tight and leathery over bone, eyesocket empty and black, mottled with red scars.Kieran, bound to the tree, looked once at the monstrous face of his father and turned his head away, his chin dropping, tangled dark hair falling to hide his eyes.

9. When Emma came out into her bedroom, wearing sweatpants and a tank top and rubbing her hair dry with a green towel, she found Mark curled up at the foot of her bed, reading a copy of Alice in Wonderland.He was wearing a pair of cotton pajama bottoms that Emma had bought for three dollars from a vendor on the side of the PCH. He was partial to them as being oddly close in their loose, light material to the sort of trousers he’d worn in Faerie.If it bothered him that they also had a pattern of green shamrocks embroidered with the words GET LUCKY on them, he didn’t show it. He sat up when Emma came in, scrubbing his hands through his hair, and smiled at her.Mark had a smile that could break your heart. It seemed to take up his whole face and brighten his eyes, firing the blue and gold from inside.“A strange evening, forsooth,” he said.Emma put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you forsooth me.”

10. “It can’t last,” Emma said, staring at him, because how could it, when they could never keep what they had? “It’ll break our hearts.”He caught her by the wrist, brought her hand to his chest. Splayed her fingers over his heart. It beat against her palm, like a fist punching its way out of his ribcage. “Break my heart,” he said. “Break it in pieces. I give you permission.”

11. “I have always needed you, Kieran,” Mark said. “I have needed you to live. I’ve always needed you so much, I never had a chance to think about whether we were good for each other or not.”Kieran sat up. “That is honest,” he said, finally. “I cannot fault you there.”

12. Cristina spread her hands apart in bewilderment, and winced. Mark’s expression turned to one of concern.“You’re not in pain?” he said.“No,” she said. “Are you?”“You’re near me,” he said. “There is no reason for me to hurt.”

13.  “I know.” Mark brushed his lips across her forehead. Cristina could feel his heart pounding. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll fix it.”

14.  Kieran sat up rather reluctantly. The waves of his hair had lightened to blue; he turned around, and leaned back against Mark, rather as if they were on horseback and Mark was behind.

15. Kieran shook his head. “I cannot do it,” he said.“Kier —“ Mark began angrily, but Kieran had his head down, like a beaten dog. His hair fell, sweat-tangled, into his face, and his shirt and the waist of his breeches were soaked in blood. “You’re bleeding again. I thought you said you were healing?”“I thought I was,” Kieran said softly. “Mark, leave me here —“A hand touched Mark’s shoulder. Cristina. She had put her knife away. She looked at him, levelly. “I’ll help you get him over the wall.”

16. “Not one of my best,” said Magnus, to Kieran. “I apologize — I’m not a big fan of your father’s.”“My father does not have fans.” Kieran leaned against the edge of the table. “He has subjects. And enemies.”“And sons.”“His sons are his enemies,” said Kieran, without inflection.

Bristle

Prompt: 2) Hinny dueling, set anytime post-battle. Cocky harpy vs. wipe-the-floor-with-you Auror? First summer trauma coping? The angst/fluff potential is endless

A/N: so this is a combo of the prompt ^ from @julxr4 and inspiration from @blvnk-art‘s grown up hinny fan art, particularly this comic.

Also available on FF and Ao3!


Harry’s pretty capable, as far as new fathers go.  No major injuries or illnesses to report, and he thinks James seems pretty happy, all things considered.  So when Ginny goes to spring training for almost a month, he does alright.  Aside from missing Ginny like – something he would miss a lot.  Sleep deprivation is not particularly conducive to similes.  Or grooming.  Between a full workload with the Auror Office and handling James on his own every night, certain things get shunted to the side.  And it’s a pretty easy choice if he’s deciding between shaving and taking a kip for a quarter of an hour.

Which is why Ginny comes home to her husband lying spread eagle on the floor with the tiniest Potter splayed across his chest, playing with his newly grown beard.  “Alright Potters?”

James claps his chubby hands and topples back against Harry’s now raised thighs in excitement.

Quickly, Harry catches James around his middle and soon enough has his entire family wrapped in his arms.  Ginny’s warm and firm under his hands, freckles and just a touch of sunburn across her shoulders, her chocolate eyes sparkling in that way that lets him know he’s not the only one who’s been lonely.

James pitches toward Ginny, his kiss overly wet and gummy, while Harry nuzzles her damp hair.  “We missed you.”

Ginny takes James into her arms, showering him with kisses before using her free hand to scratch at Harry’s beard.  “This is new.”

Keep reading

2

He was Petyr, her protector, warm and funny and gentle … but he was also Littlefinger, the lord she’d known at King’s Landing, smiling slyly and stroking his beard as he whispered in Queen Cersei’s ear.

Niccolò Machiavelli, Lorenzo Bartolini + Petyr Baelish, Game of Thrones

8

Hardy Friday request number 5. Thank you @brinabear458!!! Here you have Tom stroking that beautiful beard. I volunteer to stroke it next…with my tongue.


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