the biscuit fire

Arthur Dayne & Lyanna Stark by @polar-biscuit

“Lyanna might have carried a sword, if…”

I commissioned this art for @marthajefferson​’s birthday, and for @lyannas​’s AU Arthur/Lyanna fic, Hold On To Your Heart. Thank you both for being such wonderful friends to me, and I hope you have the best birthday, Solenne! 

anonymous asked:

Oh god did the little guy do the same thing like mute did?!

“All we can really do is wait for him to wake up…”


A/N: have this TKST blurb! Takes place between chapter 2 and chapter 3! very short, but serves to whet your appetites before chapter 3. Enjoy!

His thumb hovers over the send button as his heart thumps in his chest. His eyes scan the text quickly, and he decides itโ€™s too fucking wordy. Quickly, he deletes the text (Hey, so, i had a really great time the other night, iโ€™m glad mags brought you to the party. We should hang again sometime) and types out โ€œSo, howโ€™s the essay coming?โ€ instead because it feels less vulnerable. Also less creepy. Way more chill and cool, like the celebrity heโ€™s supposed to be.

He still hasnโ€™t pressed โ€˜Sendโ€™, though.

Keep reading

bean-about-townn  asked:

ooh, 66 (“I’ll keep you safe”) for flinthamilton, which would. also be great for aftercare after the reunion (sorry im obsessed with the concept now. ur last fic was too good i can't stop thinking about it)

It had started with the bruises. 

After a small meal of stale sourdough bread, dry chicken roasted over a fire and biscuits James hadn’t eaten since his time in the Navy, they had retired to the small shack Thomas called home. He shared it with ten other men despite the space only being enough for seven at most. The other occupants had offered to stay and clean up after dinner, telling Thomas it was alright, clearly he needed space with the newcomer. Somehow they all knew his name. 

James gingerly tugged the blood and dirt stained shirt over his head, wincing as cuts stretched and bruises were pressed. He heard the sound of pottery hitting the hard packed dirt floor and Thomas’ breath echo through the room. 


Despite the thrill of hearing his name, of Thomas saying his name, James felt his stomach drop and his heart thud in his chest. 

“Dear God James, what happened? Who- who did this?” Thomas asked, reaching out to touch the lightest of the bruising on his upper arm. James couldn’t help the wince. He lowered his eyes, looked away and prayed Thomas wouldn’t see the pitiful weakness in his face. 

“It was… it was men from my crew. After I buried the gold they were sent to-” he swallowed, the reality of his life tumbling over him. He shuddered and sat heavily on the cot Thomas had identified as his own, far back against the wall and furthest from the doors and windows. James felt the aching tiredness of his bones, the heavy feel of betrayal and heartbreak take over him. Tears spilled from his eyes as silent sobs wracked his body. 

From somewhere beyond himself he heard Thomas curse, a guttural and broken sound that drove into James’ chest like a knife. Footsteps, dulled by the dirt floor, moved away and James felt fear prickle under the surface of his skin.

The thought came unbidden, unwanted: he’s leaving, he’s leaving and he’ll never come back. I’ve lost him again. How could he still love me when I’m so-

He stood, reached out to Thomas and made some kind of animalistic sound, wordlessly begged Thomas to stay, to love him, not to leave him alone in the dark again. In a rush Thomas was there, his arms holding James up. 

He hushed James in a cracked voice and stroked the bristles of his hair. “It’s alright,” He said, the words thick and heavy on his tongue, “I’ll keep you safe.”

The weeks, months, years of fighting caught up to him in a rush. As Thomas comforted him, James let the mask of his former self fall apart, put his love and trust and his very soul in the palm of this man’s hand. 

“You’re safe here,” Thomas continued, “I’ll burn this place to the ground if they touch you. If anyone touches you.”

James let the weightlessness take over, let Thomas’ promise sooth him into silence and fell asleep without fear for the first time in ten years. 


Jackson Lake State Park 
Orchard, Colorado

Sometimes you just need to get away and be outside. I spent the weekend camping, aka eating and relaxing and it was much needed. 

Things I would have never thought to make over the fire: biscuits, potato skewers, cinnamon rolls, and a giant chocolate chip cookie. 10/10 would recommend all of it. It is so fun trying new things!

Quote of the weekend though was from @seiflife - “I can taste the camping on these.” Despite the chilly weather, this weekend was great. 

I also have a solid list going of what I will eventually need to have the camping basics of my own. So far I have the tent on the left, a chair, and a sleeping bag. 

ask-oldfashioned-bendy  asked:

*enters into the hospital room, with a flower bouquet is his hands* Hello, Mr. do you feel today?

he feels like shit, and looks like shit. hes not in a great mood at all, and seems to have given up on everything. (it seems as if he is pushing his friends away from him and seems to try and isolate him as when he woke up he made Boris to with biscuit.)

The Great British Bake Off:

- Show with a bunch of bakers who also have lives (amateur?). They want to win so they can be the best baker who also has a life.
- There are 2 judges. One of them is a male judge who wants to be Simon Cowell. The other is Mary Berry, old lady extraordinare, great print jackets and cake skills.
- There are 2 hosts. They make lots of jokes about tarts/cream horns/soggy bottoms. One of them is Sue Perkins, I’d be her wife.
- This year was the best year ever. Fireman Matt/Who from Whoville made a biscuit fire engine. Tamal balanced being a sexy doctor who likes sandwiches with great bakes.
- But the best bit was Nadiya.

Nadiya from The Great British Bake Off:

- Perfect pocket size human (4ft11!!!)
- Amazing eyebrows
- Has numerous blogs/think pieces dedicated to her facial expressions
- One time she made this floating pop can and it was amazing
- Didn’t believe in herself at first but then she was like wait no I’m the best and everyone was like, yeah.
- Nadiya won.
- I cried.


Honoring Our Heroes: Woman Gives A Biscuit To A Man She Believes Is A Firefighter


cynthia: mix of sophie from fire emblem fates and momocashew’s vocals

ram: mr pinstripe from the pinstripe (bust all your nuts) second example

juro: scp reading gemodawn or singer biscuits and discontent

stuart: fire emblem heroes version of gaius

welly: excluded from this because she has no voice

05: also excluded from this because she’s just cynthia

acala: gary from this short experimental film

The Moose yarn bowl from design to finish. The four separate stages it takes to produce most custom orders. The initial sketch or watercolour sketch that is created to show a customer the idea before work begins ..the constructed bowl which is the combination of a turned thrown earthenware bowl and the modelled Moose applied to it. The modelling as you would expect is what takes the time …usually about six hours. Once the bowl has been biscuit fired it is hand painted in underglaze colours which illustrate the scene. Finally the bowl is glaze sprayed in various chosen colours and kiln fired for a second time. So if you didn’t know how much work goes into just one bowl ….you do now :-)
enquiries to

“I can see that even as the world plunges into darkness and peril, you two stand around discussing your love lives. Teenagers.”
“What are you doing here?” Simon said, too surprised for a smart comeback.
“Came to see Alec,” Magnus said.
Clary raised her eyebrows at him. “What was that about teenagers?”
Magnus held up a warning finger. “Don’t overstep yourself, biscuit,” he said, and moved past them, disappearing into the crowd around the Portal.
“Biscuit?” said Simon.
“Believe it or not, he’s called me that before,” Clary said.
—  City Of Heavenly Fire - ๐ŸŒ†