trail house

“Perturbed Paths”

Ever since I saw this farm with it’s lovey striped field, I’ve been hoping to catch a nice sunset over it. On this evening it was looking like it was going to be a good sunset, but the best part was mostly hidden from view by low flying clouds. (that’s why there’s breaks in the paths of the clouds) not long after I shot this timelapse, I was a little sad to see the field was all dug up so they could install pipes for irrigation. Hopefully the stripes will be back next year, along with a good sunset.
I made this time stack by combining 255 photos into one image.

Kiss The Chef
  • Remus likes to bake during the holidays
  • Cakes, scones, muffins, cookies, pie, tarts - you name it, he’s made it.
  • He bakes so much that it isn’t uncommon for him to come bursting through the common room doors with a tray full of delicious treats and a trail of house elves parading in behind him carrying more with broad smiles on their faces, attempting to bow and balance at the same time.
  • It’s this sight that Sirius adores
  • Not the house elves with their large eyes and flappy ears
  • No, what’s far more adorable to him is Remus.
  • Remus with his flushed cheeks, and messy hair that’s powdered white in a section with flour and a smear of chocolate frosting on his chin.
  • Remus who’s still wearing his ‘kiss the chef’ apron and slippers.
  • Of course, the common room loves the treats - one girl even claimed she stayed at school over the holidays just to have Remus’ peanut butter sugar cookies
  • Well… the treats are nice and all… but Sirius really just loves Remus.
  • He watches with a soft smile on his face as some Gryffindors practically fling their things off the table to make room for the trays and greedily snatch up their favorites.
  • He watches how Remus stands straighter, pride written all over his face
  • How he glances over to the corner and then plucks up a strawberry jam cookie and brings it over to the timid first year who looked too afraid to approach the hectic table.
  • As Remus turns away from the small girl, his and Sirius’ eyes meet.
  • And they just look at each other for a moment, before Remus is moving forward and Sirius is pushing off from his place against the wall and meeting him half way, in the middle of the room.
  • “Hi.” Remus breaths, breathless and grinning, “Want a cookie? I made the disgusting shortbread ones you love so much.”
  • And usually, Sirius would have defended his beloved shortbread.
  • But he was more interested in something else right now.
  • Because Remus’ lips were pink and inviting and he couldn’t help it when he just leaned forward and pressed his own lips against them.
  • He felt Remus’ hands curl around his hips and an appreciative hum escape from his throat.
  • He was grinning again the moment they parted, “What did I do to deserve that?”
  • And Sirius just smirked, lips pressing against the smear of frosting on Remus’ jaw, and tugging a little on Remus’ apron, 
  • “Just doing what I’m told.”

CHRISTMAS IS SO SOON I HAD TO. I just love Remus in his apron.

 (Also in celebration of almost being done studying for the next week !!!!)


“We will have to leave soon. Preferably before morning.” Will tried to keep his head, desperately trying to keep himself from succumbing.

 “And we will.” Hannibal reassured him before pressing his lips strongly against Will’s, wasting no time exploring Will’s mouth with his tongue.

 They made a trail through the house. Hannibal pressed Will against the counter, knocking over wine bottles and jars of pasta, sending them clattering to the floor. The cat was out of the bag, and there was no reason to worry about the state they left the house in.

 “Fuck.” Will groaned, pressing his legs tightly around Hannibal as Hannibal carried them towards the large front room. Will slid his body as best he could against Hannibal’s bulge, gripping Hannibal’s hair tightly to get a better hold.

 Hannibal roughly tore off the hat Will still wore and threw it against the couch, running his hands through the mess of curls.

 Hannibal snarled as he bit and sucked roughly down Will’s neck. He thought of how Will always tasted so soft and malleable, a rare delicacy that only Hannibal got to partake of.  “I told you we needed this.” Hannibal hissed against Will’s ear.

“Shut up.” Will pressed a rough kiss to silence him, taking Hannibal’s lower lip in his mouth and biting hard.

 Hannibal gasped and pressed Will’s back against the large window. The moon, high and bright above the pines, shone against Will’s outline. He looked like some sort of fallen angel. Hannibal pressed Will’s wrists above both of their hands and slammed them against the previously spotless glass.

My collaboration with @hannahthemighty who did this kick ass, beautiful art! 

Read the rest here!

gallavich fanfic preview - ‘set a match to it’

Smoke dissipated into the night sky above the roof of the Gallagher house. It trailed down to between Fiona’s fingers, like slender stems when held before the pretty rosebud of her lips. She retained the warmth of the summer’s day even as the evening sunk the heat to the ground and draped cool shadows onto the pulsing earth. When Ian rounded the corner, like a gust of wind, Fiona’s lips tilted and the muscles on her back tensed.

“So who was this one?”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey,” Fiona sighed, tugging on Ian’s sleeve as went to skip past her on the steps. She offered her cigarette and Ian plucked it from her hand, taking a desperate drag. “I’m only teasing.” Ian shook his head quietly. The smoke he blew out flickered and stung as the breeze spit it back in his face. Fiona shifted to hug her legs. “Bad breakup?”

“No breakup,” Ian cut in. His voice had a muted depth, like it had been dragged from his ribs. “Not yet.” He cast the cigarette into the grass and cleared his throat.

Fiona’s cheeks pinched around her mouth as her face softened with sadness. Ian was scratching a hand up into the back of his hair, turning his eyes to the clouds. She could see the child in him. He began tapping his foot vexingly against the stone and Fiona’s gaze dropped to watch it. It was like the ground and sky were too close to him. Pressing on him. She’d been audience to his agitation the past two months. She’d joked it was like ‘serial dating’, but the joke soon wrung of all humour. It was hope to heartbreak over and over again. And it had worn on him so he now appeared jagged and torn. Fiona wasn’t stupid. Beneath the collected scribbles of names he’d listed off – James to Toby to Mark – lay a brutal attempt to erase the engraved letters of Mickey.