wrinkled face

@poipoi1912 I was reading your post and got to this:

“Peter needs to do that botox thing people do between their eyebrows for their “11” lines, he’ll get wrinkles if he keeps frowning like that in every single one of his close-ups.“

and I went..

Originally posted by dxsobedient

….I will fight you.

Originally posted by gifs-for-humans

Bedtime story

(Child) Robb Stark x (Child)Reader x (Child) Jon Snow

Words: 895
Notes: Y/N = your name.

Warnings: fluff.

Imagine being a child living in Winterfell with Robb and Jon, and falling asleep in Robb’s bed with him and Jon.


***

It was, all in all, a warm night: a wool blanket was enough to keep Robb, Jon and you warm. You three were in Robb’s room, wrapped together in bed with you stuck between them, listening intently to the Old Nan telling the Rat Cook tale. In all honesty, you couldn’t tell which was scarier, if the story or the Old Nan herself. The cook was giving you the creeps, but at the same time you were trembling because of the shrunken wrinkled face that appeared so ghostly by the candle light. As the woman was speaking, you imperceptibly turned to glimpse Jon, serious and focused; then you looked at Robb and saw him smirking off his face. It certainly seemed like you were the only one who was almost frightened to death; anyway, you couldn’t let the two boys knowing about it, so you swallowed your fear and went back to listen to Old Nan.

It seemed like hours until the story ended and you were now watching the woman leaving slowly and wobbly, not before she recommended Jon and you to return to your respective bedrooms. As to make a point, Old Nan left the door open letting the cold air from the hallway in.

– Are we going? – Jon asked you, but Robb started to protest.

– Already tired? – he complained standing up on the furs of his bed while his half-brother, instead, got off jumping on the floor. Jon handed you your little shoes even before he could put his own on, to keep you from touch the cold ground with bare feet.

– If lady Catelyn finds us here, she will scold us again – he insisted looking up to Robb.

– I can hide you! – the auburn haired boy exclaimed and with that he jumped off the bed too and grabbed one of Jon’s boot. Jon tried to steal it from his grasp, but he failed. – And – his brother went on looking at you, – Y/n wants to stay, I know!

He then got closer to you that were slipping the second shoe on, – Stay here, Y/n – he plead. Meanwhile Jon finally succeeded in having his boot back.

– Jon… – you begged with an uncertain expression on your face, hoping not to make him mad. Actually, the idea to stay alone in your dark room after that creepy tale really wasn’t so appealing. That happened every time and this was the reason you played for time with Robb and Jon so often after curfew. So, it was only your fault if lady Catelyn had dressed the three of you down for the last three days. Being the apple of his mother’s eye, Robb didn’t seem to mind the scolds at all, but Jon, of course, was another matter. Lady Catelyn didn’t like him and he knew it pretty well, and he just wished not to make her upset; but as a little child, he also wished to stay with his friends having fun as long as possible. Because of that, now he was staring at his feet, one still bare and cold on the floor, pondering what to do.

Robb patted his shoulder with a wide smile – Let’s build up a barricade! – he said.

– A barricade? – you asked confused, watching as Robb closed the door of his room trying to be as silent as possible and then Jon giving up to your will with a sigh. He took off the only boot he was wearing and reached you on the mattress, quickly followed by Robb.

– A barricade against the Rat Cook – he explained glancing strangely at Jon, who started to crawl towards you murmuring – Because if you don’t hide…

– He will eat you! – they both burst out tickling you and making you scream. Anyway, Robb was fast enough to shout you up by putting a hand on your mouth, scratching your belly with the other along with Jon. After a while they got tired and exhausted from all the laughs, and let you rest, panting breathless.

– I hate you – you whined moving under the blankets. You covered yourself above your head, and in there you listened to the boys whispers.

You made her mad – Robb said and Jon answered back he was the one who tickled you more. Later you heard the soft sound of the covers raising as the boy slipped down there with you.

– Sorry, Y/n – Jon muttered grasping the hem of your nightdress as Robb laid down next to you too; you felt Robb’s little hand stroking your cheek and then he asked – You’re not crying, are you?

Fully aware you succeeded in your plans, you started to giggle.

– You really are stupid! – and they tickled you again.

***

Catelyn found the three of you sleeping in Robb’s bed when she came to check for her son. Even if you disobeyed her for the fourth time in a week, she could not disturb your dreams. The simple way Robb rested, keeping you in a genuine embrace and holding Jon too at the same time, melted her heart.

– Oh, Ned… – she whispered as her husband walked in, unable to hide a warm smile.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a kiss on her temple.

– Let them stay here for tonight.

Catelyn nodded. They gave a last look to you and went out, closing the door gently as not to waken you.



***

This was very short, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway =)

3

After posting my aged-up PPG Character Designs a few days ago, I got a lot of requests to draw some more of the villains from the original show - so here they are!  (And before anyone asks yes I did try to draw RRB but it was not a success D:)

HIM, being a demon, doesn’t age - instead, as the world grows wicked and old, he just becomes more youthful and glamorous!  To set off his fabulous physique, HIM now wears a lovely Elizabethan-inspired collar, cuffs, and rose.

Sedusa didn’t handle aging very well - as soon as she spotted the first streak of gray in her famous hair, she zipped her love handles up in latex and botoxed those wrinkles until her face was literally “made of stone.”  She can’t frown anymore but at least she looks hot…sort of. 

The Gangreen Gang is as much a nuisance as ever.  As a troublemaking biker gang, they spend their time breaking all kinds of traffic laws (and speeding away from the PPG) on their futuristic motorcycles.  Their fashion sense is still stuck in the 70s though!

After accidentally giving her father an actual heart attack, Princess took over Daddy’s secret job as Townsville Crime Lord.  Now Princess commands a crew of slobby underlings, determined to make life miserable for those stupid Powerpuffs!

One Bed (A SpiritAssassin fic)

AO3

“There you go,” the innkeeper says, unlocking the small door. “For one night.”

Baze steps over the threshold after her. The room is tiny but snug—a piece of typical Jedhan architecture, its sanded stone walls draped with faded yet colourful tapestries to keep out the cold. An empty fire pit and grate sits in the middle of the room, rimmed by a curved sofa, and against the far wall—

Oh no.

“I… trust everything is in order, Mr. Malbus?” The innkeeper wrings her hands, clearly unnerved by the sudden flattening of Baze’s expression.

He glances down at her, forces a taut smile. “Yes, thank you.”

She beams, her wrinkled brown face squishing happily. “Then I’ll leave you be. We start serving supper in the dining hall in half an hour, but of course you and Mr. Îmwe are welcome to eat at your leisure.”

She leaves. Baze stays where he is, staring at the single bed.

Keep reading

My name means good news.
I have trouble believing it lately
because the voices that once made me
not want to eat
(or talk)
(or exist)
might be making a comeback, begging for more.

they hiss “the world is better off without your big mouth
your cold heart
your slow mind”
and how can I not believe them
when I hurt everyone
even the boy who believes I put stars in his eyes?
“he’d be better off without me” I say.

And then, I remember the sunburned wrinkled face
of the woman who lent me her name.
She never smiles at photos
but she always gives
and gives
and asks for so few things in return.

Once I arrived home 5 hours earlier
and she started crying out of joy
she always gives me the tightest hugs
and the best pies
and when I go away, she cries.

I am good news for her.

Hit and Run Chapter 2

Welp. I know I’m very late in posting. I’m really sorry. I’m very slow at writing orz

Thanks to @gays-on-ice​ for letting me bounce ideas for this chapter off of you!

For those of you who haven’t read chapter 1…

AO3 (I’ll post this on AO3 tomorrow!)

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This is unbeta’d by the way. Feel free to point out any mistakes you may find!

—-

Chapter 2…

Victor slowly came into awareness, rising towards consciousness slowly, but surely.

“…sorry… couldn’t… save… too severe…”

The figure skater’s brows furrowed, as he tested those words out in his mind.

Couldn’t… save? …who…?

Keep reading

Imagine baby Damian (like 14-16 months (he develops early and is a menace to Alfred already) (Alfred doesn’t mind) in a onesie.
Imagine baby Damian–supposed to be IN BED in his CRIB–wiggling down the grand staircase.
He toddles to the study where his dad is sitting.
Bruce is looking into the fire, brow drawn painfully. But then he hears behind him a joyous, “Dad-dee!”
And he turns around and Damian is looking ridiculously small in the doorway, grinning with his toothy smile, drooling a bit.
His son clamors onto his lap and pats the wrinkles out of his face, chiming “Papa papa papa” and bouncing up and down. In his little green onesie with padded feet. (This is important okay I don’t know if y'all have seen babies in onesies but it’s enough to convince you to raise a child and populate the earth because it is that cute)
He grabs Bruce’s nose with his little fingers and Bruce grimaces because even though his son has had his bath his fingers are still s t i c k y.
The toddler babbles and slaps the chair arms, rocking back and forth on his father’s lap. Bruce takes his hands and allows Damian to stumble-walk all over his legs, and when Damian slips between and lands on the leather seat, he hoists him up and sits down with him on the carpeted floor.
Bruce sighs and closes his eyes for one moment and when he opens them his reading glasses are warped out of shape with tiny fingerprints on the lens.
He puts them on while Damian giggles and claps his hands. The toddler pushes himself upright by his hands (that funny baby thing where they place their feet on the floor first and push up their upper body with their hands) and toddles toward the fireplace.
Bruce reaches out and tugs on the baby’s onesie, causing Damian to fall on his diapered behind with a bump. He pouts at Bruce but the father shakes his head and drags him closer, offering the ruined glasses as a distraction.
Damian takes them happily, and soon begins gnawing on the gummied ends. Teething, the everlasting nightmare.
Bruce picks him up and sits down with him in the recliner, tucking him in his arm.
And the two of them slowly drift off to sleep as the fire burns out.

(That was dumb I should have actually made a fic out of this. Oh well.)

( safety-dancer here is baby Damian. You speak, I deliver. Bling bling, I’m your fairy godmother!)