writings on parchment

"You're really cute when you're angry." (Draco x Reader)

Requests are welcome!

. . .

Type: Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N is mad, and Draco finds her super adorable

Word count: 337 (yes it’s short I know, fucking sue me)

. . .

“And to make matters worse, Snape wants a four foot long parchment on vampires by Thursday! I can’t write a four foot long parchment in two days! I have Quidditch practice!” you yelled in exasperation to your long suffering boyfriend.

“I could help you with your vampires essay, if you’d like?” asked Draco.

“That’s not the point here!” you shouted, flopping down onto the sofa in exasperation. “The point is… Well, I’m not entirely sure. But it’s a really good point, okay?!”

With that, you buried your face into Draco’s school scarf that you’d stolen that morning, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Feeling Draco shift next to you and chuckle, you looked up, with a face like thunder.

“What?” you snapped.

“You’re really cute when you get angry.” he smiled, looking into your Y/E/C eyes with so much love that you could feel your heart clench.

Still, you pretended to pout and turn away, until you felt his hands on your sides, and he began to tickle you, causing you to squeal in a most undignified manner.

“Draco!” you shrieked, hitting him, but the smile was back on your face.

“Seriously, you look adorable when you get angry.” he laughed. “Your cheeks go all pink and your nose scrunches up.”

“Draco Malfoy, you soppy bastard.” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his slender but muscled frame.

“I love you to the ends of the Earth Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, even if you are a complete and utter Slytherin princess.” declared Draco with a smirk, the smirk that you so dearly loved, in more ways than one.

“And I love you too Draco Lucius Malfoy, even if you are a complete and utter arsehole.” you laughed, pecking his lips. “Now come on, I think I heard that Pansy managed to sneak some firewhiskey into the common room!”

“Y/N, what would your father say if he heard that?” asked Draco, smirking again.

“Do you know what? I don’t give a shit.”

Sally Drabbles 31: Like This

Guys I wrote a Harmony and well…I’m really proud of it. Thanks to the lovelies of Quills & Parchment over on Facebook - these competitions are always so much fun to be a part of, and I’m really honoured. 

Read on [ FFN ]

Read all the entries [ h e r e ]

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Prank, Fred Weasley x Reader

Originally posted by harry-potter-world-forever

Request: Heyyyy can you please do 18 with Fred!!!!!! Pretty please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Information: Y/N = your name
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader
Prompt: 18. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.
A/N: This absolutely sucked and I am very sorry

Professor Binns finally got the class silent. Everyone was making their assignments. The only sound was quills scratching on parchment, rain tapping on the windows and the soft humming of the professor. Fred Weasley however, was the only one not working. He was writing something on a parchment while glancing over at his girlfriend from time to time. He made a little airplane of the parchment, made sure Professor Binns wasn’t looking, and threw it to his girlfriend. It landed softly on her desk, and she looked his way. She opened it and read. 

“So? What do you think?” Fred asked exited after the lesson. She sighed.  “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” Fred grinned and threw his arm around her shoulders. “I knew you would do it” So they met each other on the Quiddtich pitch an hour after curfew. “What now Weasley?” she asked and raised her eyebrow. “Now we turn the Ravenclaw robes pink” he said and threw some robes at her and George. “And with what are we supposed to turn them pink?” asked George. “With this of course. They’re not able to turn it back. So they either won’t play the match, or look ridiculous” he smirked. Y/N rolled her eyes and started to paint the robes pink, finishing them with a special charm. 

Fred was right, they really did look ridiculous that Saturday. The whole pitch was laughing, except for the Ravenclaws of course. Without any surprise, the Gryffindors won. “I knew it was you!” the team captain of the Ravenclaw team gave Fred a push. “Woah there mate calm down” she snickered but the guy gave him a punch on his stomach. Y/N gasped and ran to the two boys, jumping in between them before they could fight. “Stop it! It was me” she said. “Was it really?” Professor McGonagall appeared next to them. “That would mean detention for a week Mrs.-” “I helped her!” said Fred. “And I did too!” added George quickly. “That would mean detention for the three of you I see” she said, and turned around to leave. 

“You really shouldn’t have done that you know” Y/N said when they walked to Professor McGonagall’s office the next day. “At least we are together now” said Fred and threw his arm around her shoulders while giving her a kiss on her cheek. 

Midnight Memories

Midnight Memories 

A/N - for reinforced walls, who requested this. 

“Merlin, I’m glad that’s over,” Scorpius said, suppressing a yawn. “Transfiguration is normally my favorite subject, but that essay was entirely too long!”

“At least you’re passionate about the subject,” Rose said. “For me, writing this essay was equivalent to you doing a charms essay.”

Scorpius shuddered. He liked charms and all, but if he was asked to write four parchment rolls on cheering charms, he might not have made it out alive.

He and Rose had spent the past five hours in the library, finishing up their essays. Sixth year, and the Newt classes that came with it had only just begun, and they were already drowning in homework. He didn’t completely mind - it gave him an excuse to spend more time in the library with Rose. However, it was half-past midnight already, and he needed his sleep.

“Amortentia,” Rose said confidently, as they walked up to the Gryffindor tower, and waited for the portrait to swing open.

“Wrong,” the Fat Lady said.

“Wrong? What do you mean it’s wrong?” Rose sputtered. “That was the password at dinner!”

“Yes, but the password gets changed midnight every Sunday,” the Fat Lady said. “You’re going to have to talk to one of the prefects if you want to know it.”

“But I am a Gryffindor prefect! He is too!” Rose said, pointing at Scorpius indignantly.

“I’m sorry, dearies, but I just can’t let you in,” the Fat Lady said, shaking her head.

“Well, we’re stuck out here, unless you have any great ideas,” Rose said, turning to face Scorpius.

“We could go to the Room of Requirement?” Scorpius suggested.

“No, Fred and Jess are in there,” Rose said, making a face.

“Hmm, you could send a patronus to one of your cousins?”

“Do you want to see a mad James at midnight?”

“Well, what about the others? It seems to me that you have about a million.”

“Hey! Was that a joke about my family?”


Rose sighed and sat down. “Well, since it seems we’ll be out here until someone else comes out, I’m going to sit.”

Scorpius sat down next to Rose. She yawned, and put her head on his shoulder. Scorpius sat up straighter, a little startled. Her red hair was soft against him, and she smelled like vanilla.

Scorpius craned his neck, and saw that her eyes were closed. “Merlin, Rose, only you would fall asleep like this.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her head. “‘Night, Rose,” he said, and leaned his head on top of her’s. Although she was supposed to be asleep, Scorpius could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile on her lips. However, he was too sleepy to tell for sure, and soon joined Rose in dreamland.

The next morning they woke up to her cousins all surrounding them. Rose stood up very quickly, with bright red cheeks.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” Rose said, while her cousins teased her. All the way down to breakfast, Hugo and Lily chanted ‘ROSE SLEPT WITH SCORPIUS! ROSE SLEPT WITH SCORPIUS!’ to the point where Rose hexed them. Scorpius, on the other hand, just laughed. The rumor wasn’t completely true, but for once, Scorpius didn’t mind.


“It was the singers who taught the First Men to send messages by raven…but in those days, the birds would speak the words. The trees remember, but men forget, and so now they write the messages on parchment and tie them round the feet of birds who have never shared their skin.”

Old Nan had told him the same story once, Bran remembered, but when he asked Robb if it was true, his brother laughed and asked him if he believed in grumkins too. He wished Robb were with them now. I’d tell him I could fly, but he wouldn’t believe, so I’d have to show him. I bet that he could learn to fly too, him and Arya and Sansa, even baby Rickon and Jon Snow. We could all be ravens and live in Maester Luwin’s rookery.

Stark siblings thinking (and talking) about each other - Bran and Robb

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans‬ ‭8‬:‭35, 37-39‬ ESV

There is nowhere you can possibly go to escape the love of God. You are consumed. This isn’t a matter of subjective feeling, but objective reality. When you are in Christ, you are in the very centre of the love of the eternal community of God, which has existed in perfect joy and satisfaction since before time. And in Christ, you are now in that eternal community of love. Nothing can remove you from it, not circumstance, or any person, or group of people, or anything you ever do or say. You cannot become unworthy of this love, because this love has of itself made you worthy of it. You are loved by God. You are loved. By God.

You are loved by God.

You are loved.

By God.

You are loved.

anonymous asked:

"Zephon!!" Mae cried out, holding one of his hunter trappers by the scruff, "I'm flattered that these group of Zephonim are enthusiastic to my visit, but perhaps they could NOT sneak into the carriage and ride back to Rahab's territory?"

Zephon had been enjoying himself.

It was a nice evening, just a little on the cool side- even in his clothing, but warm enough he was comfortable– rare nights in Nosgoth.

He had been writing decrees on parchment on a portable desk when his night was seemingly cut short of it’s joy when the Voradim he admired so tenderly came waltzing into his home and dragging one of his trappers.

His face screwed up in his mask in partial disgust.

“AND YOU BROUGHT THAT THING HERE?” he asked as the trapper- still alive, just too dim-witted to move, looked around with some sort of satisfaction. That or just sheer idiotic complacency. “IN MY PALACE?”

“Some battles are won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens.”

ASOIAF Crack Theory: What Tywin Lannister really wrote to Roose Bolton…

This idea was originally sent as a question to @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly. Although the theory was thoroughly debunked, both Butterfly and Joannalannister thought the image of Tywin carefully writing letters on pink parchment in pink ink, thinking of the best way to sound like a teenage girl, needed to be drawn.

Art commissioned by @joannalannister. Commissions are open!

But imagine Badass Hermione making the boys do their homework with that one look that none of them can stand more than a few seconds.

Imagine her pointing her wand on the nearby chairs lazily, ready to magically superglue them onto these, if she has to.

Imagine her being lost in work, on the edge of loosing her mind, because Professor McGonagall made them write 2 rolls of parchment on transformating teakettles into humming birds without using a spoken incantation, but she totally HAS to write at least 3, and she’s not even half through the books she found, AND THE BOYS ARE JUST SO BLOOMING NOISY!!

Happy Birthday!!!!!

A birthday drabble for my beautiful Sun and Stars! 

Hermione recognized the bright blonde hair before he had even turned around. She stopped in the doorway. “No.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, sighed, “Hermione, I need you both on this.”

Draco didn’t turn around, but she could see his shoulders tense under his perfectly tailored suit. “Let me be perfectly clear Minister. Fuck. No.” Hermione turned on her heel and walked out, not waiting to see what they would do after her declaration.

“I told you she wouldn’t do it.” Draco’s voice was steady.

Kingsley pulled out parchment and a quill and began to scribble a note. “She has to. I need the best on this project if we don’t want that law to go through.” Kingsley looked back up at Draco, “And you two are the best.” He finished writing and tapped the parchment with his wand. It took on the characteristic paper airplane shape and hovered, waiting for delivery instructions. “Go on ahead back to your office Mr. Malfoy. I expect she’ll be along shortly.”

Draco hid a snort of amusement behind a cough.

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Put a magical item in my asks:

Raven Writing Desk: What is your writing set up?

Haunted Cottage: Where do you like to write best?

Blessed Parchment: Tell us about your favorite piece of writing:  

Ichor Pen: Can the act of writing serve as magical or devotional for you and if so how?

Living Marble Statue: Do you have a muse, spirit or god that inspires your writing and if so please describe:

Talking Book: Is your writing for yourself or for others? If for others, do you have a relationship with your readers? 

Otherworld Atlas: Can a book bring you closer to magic, spirits or gods? Can writing or reading a book be an initiatory or revelatory experience?

Skull Mentor: Tell us about a person living or dead who has influenced your writing in a practical way:

Cursed Axe: How do you deal with writer’s block?

Invisible Ink: Would you still write even if no one would ever read it and why yes or no?

“It was the singers who taught the First Men to send messages by raven … but in those days, the birds would speak the words. The trees remember, but men forget, and so now they write the messages on parchment and tie them round the feet of birds who have never shared their skin.”

A Dance with Dragons ( A Song of Ice and Fire #5) by George R.R. Martin

The Elusive Battery Of Love

Tagging mmebookworm who prompted: Molly and Arthur when they were young. I see Molly as much like Ginny, and she interests me. Especially as I see Arthur as much like he was when he was older. Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy :) [ffnet]

“Dear oh dear oh dear.”

“Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear.”

“Oh dear oh d—”

“I am trying,” Molly said, laying down her quill pointedly and glaring at her brothers, “to write an essay. I have NEWTs next month!”

“NEWTs next month! Did you hear that, Fab?” asked Gideon.

“I did indeed!” replied Fabian. “The lady has NEWTs next month. And you know what I heard she’s been spending her nights doing?”

“Or should that be who?”

Molly’s face flushed deep red, but she ignored her brothers, picking up her quill again and writing neat notes on the parchment before her.

“Or is it whom?” Fabian asked. “I never can remember which way round it goes. But fear not! I have a solution. We should refer to him by name.”

“An excellent plan,” Gideon agreed. “But you must remind me: what, exactly, is the name of the bloke who has been taking our sister out at all hours, besmirching her otherwise unsmirchable reputation?”

“Do you think we should have words with the chap?” Fabian asked. Molly underlined a sentence in her textbook with such force that her quill split, and she cursed, reaching for another whilst trying to contain the ink spillage on the page.

“I’m not sure,” Gideon replied seriously. “Perhaps if you could be so kind as to inform me of his name, we could decide if he is worth speaking to. I should hate to think of our Mol being taken advantage of…”

“I believe his name is A—”

“Will you two be quiet?” Molly bellowed with such volume that several onlookers in the Common Room turned around and stared, and a fellow seventh year, battling the same tough essay, glared pointedly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Molly said, flustered, and Fabian and Gideon began to laugh. “For Goodness’ sake, what do you want?!” she asked. “Can’t you see I’m trying to work? My first exam is in nineteen days, and if I don’t sort this Transfiguration mess out tonight I’m going to—”

“Not that we are perhaps the best people to be giving this sort of advice, but—don’t you think that, if your exams are bothering you that much, you should perhaps do some revision instead of…ooh…I don’t know—”

“Spending your all night in the grounds with your paramour?” finished Fabian, as his brother tsked.

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Here at the End of the World

St. Mungos allowed her to go back to Hogwarts. Two months, they’d said. Maybe three, if she stayed in the hospital wing and took care of herself. When she got back to the hospital wing, she knew she needed to tell Doe, Quirinus, Max. But the first person she thought of was Sturgis. She knew she couldn’t burden him with it, but she needed to see him. She needed him.

So she asked for her owl and a piece of parchment, writing down carefully:


Please come see me.


She folded it up and sent her owl on its way to find Sturgis. She curled up on the bed then, pulling the covers up over her head, fighting back tears.

gentlemama’s fave...

“Will you show me your artwork?” she blurts out later that day. “Your work for the Capitol?”

She has practically zero interest in the Capitol, but she is very interested in Peeta Mellark.

When he followed her to the shoemaker’s shop, she had been pleased at first, then chagrined when she realized he was only renting out a small living quarter in the back of it. When he pulled out a key from his pocket and invited her inside, her heart jumped in an embarrassing staccato. She had agreed with much less hesitation than even she knew she was capable of.

He looks up at her from his paper, appearing surprised at her question. Startled, even. They had been sitting in companionable silence while he scratched away at his parchment, writing intently while she sipped her way through two mugs of hot tea he had made for her on a small hot plate in his tiny kitchen. The tension from before slowly melted away, but left in its stead were questions, and Katniss had found herself more curious about this man than ever.

“Maybe when I finally draw something worthy,” he says lightly, his eyes landing on hers, heavy with meaning. “My interests are pretty narrow so far.”

Katniss coughs and looks down. “I could maybe…I mean. Are you looking for people? Are you studying people?” she asks with halted words. “I can’t help with that so much, but…I mean-” She stops.

“Yes?” he coaxes her, leaning forward.

She bites her lip and plays with her fingers. “The forest. Um. I could show you- in the forest. There are pretty things there,” she says, her voice hushed. “But it’s- you can’t tell anyone!” Already she is regretting her indiscretion. He’s from the Capitol. He knows people.

He sits up straighter and regards her. “I won’t say a word.”

“Because we could both get into horrible trouble,” she continues with anxious eyes.

“Katniss,” he says gently, standing up from his desk and crouching in front of her. “You can trust me.”

The Baker’s Son by Miss Honeywell, peetaspenis