#( FACECLAIM TAG. )

[fhaerieee]

more q as i’m toying around with designs. i am not settled on this one as i liked her better drawing her flat chested (because my headcanon is that she is transfem and early hrt much like i am) but the reference i used suited this body type better, and i needed practice :)

[haraimomos]

not enough people are talking about the conflict in the west philippine sea. this has been an ongoing dispute that has deprived the philippines of access to its natural resources, risked the safety of its people and our livelihoods. china's actions at the moment put us at risk of war, which the united states will likely take advantage of.

note that this is not an attack on china or the chinese people. i am not advocating for xenophobia. all i am presenting are facts and data collected from historical accounts and articles.

here's a graphic by @/onigiryy on instagram that gives the gist of the situation. i'll be adding links to articles under this post and in new posts. #AtinAngWestPhilippineSea

filipinos, please feel free to add links to other readings. also note that at this moment no formal calls to boycott have been made by any organizations.

further readings:

lengthy primer on the conflict

west philippine sea explained

the problematic west philippine sea

twitter thread with more reading material and videos

[grlrituals]

feelin cute or wwhatevver

[boabelboo]

drops this + runs..... my sheaf design !!!!

[oshikiri-toru]

Obsessed with Middle Blocker for Team USA, Max Holt, for looking exactly how I imagine Ghost would look

[sidesnack]

max irons in the riot club / posh (2014) — gifs pack (#110) tw: alcohol, nudity just try to credit sidesnack, otherwise enjoy! link page in the source

[palisadewasp]

not sure if this really counts as a sprite edit because i took a lot of liberties and didnt follow the sprite much. but uhhhhh

[superfallingstars]

marauders era faceclaims/fancasts but it's all musicians from the 60s-80s because i am insane. let's go

first up is kate bush as lily! this felt so obvious. even though she's not a ginger and her eyes are hazel (i think?) instead of green, there's something so sweet and warm about her that makes her a perfect lily to me. and omg the pics of her as a child are sooo ridiculously cute.

next up is andy partridge (my beloved) as james. he is in fact blond but i think the glasses are a wonderful coincidence. and he has a great face for james, very british-looking. honorable mention to steve albini who was my original pick but wasn't quite right (not very british-looking, does have black hair tho) – just wanted to mention that because i really only wanted to include him in this post to piss him off

young chris cornell is literally scary accurate for sirius like his face might as well be directly lifted from my BRAIN. i was really hoping to find a 70s musician for him (these pics are from the late 80s) just for consistency among the marauders, but this was too good not to use

next is alex chilton as remus. the pic on the left was when he was literally 17, while the middle one (and presumably the right one?) are when he's older. i might just be picking him because he reminds me of andrew garfield, who i don't even like as a fancast for remus, but he's infiltrated my subconscious nonetheless. also look at his little peace signs, isn't he so cute and silly and quirky? ok moving on

i'll be honest i struggled with peter but i think i'm pretty happy with greg lake here. the hair is a little dated (these pics are probably from the late 60s?) but i like his big round face. and come on i needed SOMEONE from a prog rock band in this post. it just feels right for it to be peter

alright i really struggled with snape so i'm including a few options and i really want to hear which one people like the best. personally i think the best fit is unfortunately young marilyn manson (first two pics). i was originally going to go with todd rundgren (next two) because of the long face, long hair, bad teeth... why are you booing me i'm right. i like that todd is a 70s guy because it feels more consistent with the other characters, but marilyn's got the goth factor... overall i think they're both DECENT, but i'm not sure if either one has quite the right nose. what do you guys think?

also shoutout to my many rejected snape picks, including steve peregrin took from t rex (not bad but not amazing, i debated including pics but this post is already long enough), rozz williams (too cool-looking), roger waters (meh), and frank zappa (PERFECT nose, but no good pictures without the giant mustache and the rest of his face isn't very snapey to me).

wow ok i can't believe i did this. this is so incredibly stupid but it also took me weeks to do, so i would love to hear what people think of my picks. you're welcome or i'm sorry or whatever

[reaganingridleys]

i missed drawing them

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Twenty Songs Challenge, written after being so lovingly inducted by the powerhouse that is sweet Mey, @the-ugly-swan . Challenge being to choose twenty favorited songs and write one shots based off of them with any pairing or fandom of my choosing. Being a weirdo and a little burned out in my own created universes beyond the fics already in works, I chose what currently inspired me most, obscure as it is.

Pairing: Henry “Hotspur” Percy and Lady “Kate” Mortimer Percy -early 15th century

Fandom: RPF, Shakespeare? Tom Glynn-Carney’s 5 magnificent minutes of a performance as Hotspur in <The King 2019> the armor alone was amply inspiring. The Hollow Crown fans feel free to imagine whoever, as you like. I love this historical pairing in about any iteration and the plot is drawn from both Shakespeare’s play and real history, the timeline, plot and politics being pretty self explanatory through the incorporated dialogue. NOTE- wordplay ahead with “cur” and “Kerr”, the latter being a Scottish clan holding great enmity with the Percy Family and charged with holding the Scottish side of the border. Also I kept Lady Percy’s name as “Kate” even though it was technically Elizabeth in the records.

Dynamic: a rough northern lord and his too good for him lady -a lady who has, through years of an arranged marriage gone horribly well, come to find his homespun gallantry and blunt ways more than a little intoxicating when knelt before her in amused deference. She could almost find it in herself to be gentle with him -if he hadn’t just started a rebellion whilst away from her at the Capitol.

Dedicated to my wifey @prompted-wordsmith who I did proselytize into the Percy cult one fevered evening with inestimable results, including her contribution of a few choice lines herein.

🕯As it Was ~ Hozier

“There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was”

Warnings: 18+ to be safe. a small amount of sexual content, flirtations, a husband and wife touching in public, verbal sparring and talk of making children and use of the word “bred”, swearing, use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

The sound of hooves in the courtyard rouses Kate from her anxious stupor by the hearth, toilsome grain list forgotten on her lap. The scroll swishes to the floor at her abrupt standing, wafting out of her path as she rushes to the window.

First the clatter of a single, foremost, over-eager rider, followed at a lag by his retinue, skilled riders all and armored as befits the guard of a nobleman. They make such a clatter in the yard when they come in after him. Some petty part of her briefly considers the tactic of staying here in their chambers in protest, a quiet sign of disapproval with his errand, of discontent with his brusque leave taking two weeks agone.

Her Harry would find her anyway, and like it better that she were in their chambers. He would like it well she were so near the bed and like it ill she slighted him in her dutiful welcome -but he would not speak of that. Not one for speaking much, her husband, not on matters that plague her these days, weeks, months. Kate might have it out with him in the old way and slap him about and toss cold quips and get from him little more than the same benign aggravation and good humored laughs between, a couple dozen kisses to her neck and a grapple in the sheets.

That is what talk they would undertake were she to stay up here.

It is that lone, eager, forerunning clatter of his horse that speaks to her, speaks for him. Just as his sword and his reputation and his gruff graciousness has spoken well of him across these northern lands, his eagerness to return to her, to outstrip his men in haste to be back from his fool’s errand and into her embrace -it is all the declaration of devotion she may expect from him. It is the truest form, without jape lacing his tone or tonic of lust clouding his confessions.

Harry Hotspur, as fast to return to his wife as he is to meet a fight.

It is love, of the sort she has grown to be grateful for, and it is that and fear of losing it besides, that rushes her out from their chambers and down the polished steps, out to the great hall and past the giant outer doors, cursing a lousy servant or five and ordering a bath and commissioning supper and refreshments as she goes. The torch flames bend from her flight, a whoosh and a shadow stalking Alnwick Castle’s stone passageways until the gray light of evening pours into her sight from the opened great doors. Squires and stable boys clutter her path but they part as she dashes, nay, only a dignified hasten now, out into the courtyard where nearly all of this fool’s troup have dismounted.

There are doffed helms to the Lady Percy, the jangle of chain mail crinkling with bows and scraps of deference all around them, but she sees only him, with mist dripping on his nose and a face too boyish for the insolence he has returned from discharging.

“Kate.” he utters.

Will ever he say her name lazily? She hopes not, for that alone she will endure the unwarranted cheerfulness with which he greets her on this dire occasion. She has heard it said in anger, in jest and in passion, vows and quips, praise and warning. And now in cheerful pleasure as evening mist soaks her gown and the heavy clunk of her husband's footsteps clang ever near her on the paving stones.

“Lord husband.” she greets, hands folded over her freshly healed womb.

His stride falters and he rocks back on his spurred heels, an arms length away, an embrace so tangible she can see his jaw tick from the watering of his mouth. “Lord husband is it?” he repeats thoughtfully, eyes drifting down to the paving stones for a brief moment as if to recollect some forgotten crime, they flick up soon and in them is jesting scrutiny, “My lady wife rushed all this way, down five corridors and a furlong of Keep only to greet me thus?”

Did her rising breath betray her eagerness? Could he see her in the hall despite his business dismounting?

“Your cheeks are red.” he shows her mercy, some form of it. His form. “But -Lord husband, it is, nevertheless?”

“Unless you would prefer ought else?” she inquires, he had once thought this smile quite chilling, he had admitted after their first babe, now he finds it rousing, he has admitted after their third.

“If it please you.” his shifting stance is noisy, his tabard and sword and still clutched helm a racket of accouterments in the pattering rain.

“I have any number to offer,” she concedes, stepping nearer, a lady’s step, covering one third of the ground between them that he might vanquish in a single stride. Still, he waits. “Knucklehead.” she whispers, her breath a fog and her insult as lost as vapor in the ears of his watching men, her bearing alone must satisfy their curiosity, as must his growing smirk and rising color, “Jackenape.” Another step until each little scar on his face is visible and the little canyons each raindrop make of them. She saw his finger twitching where it grasped his visor “Cur.”

There was the slightest flinch between his brows at that, a furrow that smoothed as his mirthful lips flattened out. “Careful now, lady wife, with words like Kerr* thrown about, my men might think you presumptuous, their lady gone and married to some other, a Scottish laird at that. So sure of my death already, sweet Kate, that you must speak of Kerrs in mine own yard? Ha, ‘pon my word you are qu-“

“Hush!” Her hand, fresh warmed as it was by recent hearthside and rich velvets pressed frimly to his lips, a tingle shooting straight to her toes at touching him at last. He was silent then, only the puff of breath against her fast chilling fingertips. “Tease me not so,” she begged, her own mirth gone out in her eyes, her arch look turned to grief, “not when you are just returned from an errand all but ensuring such an end. It is too cruel, even of you. Handle me kindly, Percy, as you always have, in words this time, if not in embrace.”

He seemed to ponder this before raising that hand not occupied with his helm, clumsy and clad in gauntlet as it was, to her wrist, wrapping the chilled and layered steel round her pale flesh and gently tugging her hand from his lips, only so far as to press it to his cheek instead, their audience of men at arms unheeded. “I betook myself to London,” he enunciated, as if it were their first night all over again and his thick borderland drawl too strong for her courtly ears to decipher, “to remind a king of his debts.”

“And tell me!” she cried fiercely, a choked, barely quieted protest as her hands dug into the wet leather of his jerkin, wrist twisted from the steel grasp, “What errand is that but a fool’s? Have you no fear at all left in this bruised carcass? Do I patch up an animated corpse time and again from your wars only for it never to have soul and feeling and wisdom in it? Do I, Harry? Gone to remind a king? How do you dare such?”

“It is he who has dared too much!” he cried back, loudly where her’s had been choked, a ringing and rebauld defense, worthy of a man who would chastise his monarch in full view of council. “First his debts, and now my son’s land! We did not make children so as to watch like blithe cowards as their birthright is bequeathed out from under our feet -piecemeal!- to a courtly cunt whose only recommendation is his alacrity to pucker and bow.”

Kate glanced about her at the men making show of industry, piddling at harnesses and armaments, walking horses in circles. Her husband's words could be no worse than what he had said to the King’s own face, anyone without stomach to become a rebel would have stayed behind in the Capitol, sensing dissension brewing. Lady Percy could perceive none missing from his number. So, a war it was to be, then.

“So, a new generation of Percys is to play at kingmaking.” she summarized.

“We make no boast of it.” Harry protested in turn.

“No,” said she, “why would you with how poorly your last choice has served you?”

That caused a start from him, a step forward that was neither gallant nor eager but angry as man to man. Kate, still with hands fisted in the crooks of his armor, stepped with him, backwards to his hall. “It is your brother with the better claim.” he showed his plan at last, a slow and conniving admission, one not common for his brash ways and straightforward mind.

Kate gasped at the implication. “Edmund?”

“He was proper heir, all along.”

“Your father-“ she chose her wording carefully, “-did not agree.”

“My father’s preference is not law.”

“It is mistaken for such, often.” Kate smirked in reply. “And Edmund is not suited-“

“-Edmund is not the turd now stealing from his vassals!” her Harry rejoined, his helmet pressed to her chest, “Edmund will do.” he reiterated once more.

Kate stared at his temper, the signs of it in his flaring nose and his wild eyes, the cure was between her thighs but watching mist drops fall from unblinking lashes was sweet prelude indeed. “Edmund,” she replied quietly and in a manner to be heeded, “is not willing or suited, he prefers instead to listen to welsh bards and lay upon the lap of his savage wife.”

Her Harry rolled his eyes at her truth, an admission, or the closest to one, she would ever receive. As if battling some great inner turmoil she watched him purse his lips and heave out a sigh before in a sudden movement the helm was tossed to the ground -much to the scramble and reaction of a half a dozen squires who ran to pick it up from its puddle- and suddenly steel hands were upon her hips, tugging her near to him even as she shied away, her face turned in a pantomime of demureness. “Strange,” he said and his tone suggested he still pondered her report of her brother's amorous preoccupations, “-and her lap so less Devine than mine own wife’s.”

“Then why do you haste from it so often?” she whined, delivering a smack against his belted tabard, right where the lions paraded across his right breast.

“Only a man dying of thirst appreciates that water has a flavor.” he reasoned and Kate allowed the open mouthed kisses that crept down her neck, her face turned stubbornly still to the south wall. The blacksmith's roof will be in need of new thatching soon, before spring. Before war.

She feels stubble against her tender skin, bracketing those pretty lips she once derided him for. No warrior ought to have lips like that, it was not seemly, not when maidens were denied such richness, such fullness, such rosy hue. But there is roughness about his lips and on his jaw as it tucks into the juncture at her shoulder, that show of clavicle her dress allows drawing him in like a siren’s song. He must’ve rode hard the entire way, no inns or refreshment, no shaving or baths, straight to her as from a battlefield. The King’s city is just as loathsome as any field of carnage, but he went to free her brother, to get a ransom, to reclaim their stolen land, to remind a king.

He did it for her, and the babes she gave him.

Kate turns her face from the blacksmith's thatch and raises her hand to his face, tenderly stroking the three days' beard that's grown as he's been on the road, riding hard to get to her. They have backed nearly to the hall’s mouth, the drip of rain off the gutter patters behind her on the threshold, Kate knows he can smell supper and hear the clatter of their children racing to meet him on still chubby legs. How different is the love of home, man to woman, Harry would sooner fight for it and she would cower within. Her thumb swipes at the raindrops making farce of tears upon his cheek.

"Princess," he breathes against her palm as he crushes her into his chest, still half armored and agonized for it as he cannot feel her softness with the cuirass, the leather, the chainmail. There are curves and bosoms and soft flesh he knows too well just on the other side of this awful barrier.

Princess will be her title if his treason succeeds, if her brother wears that cursed crown. “Princess”. It sours her mouth, but it is kind of him to wish it for her.

"You will come back, Harry.” she commands of him, she declares the outcome of this brewing war, “Soaked in the blood of feckless scum, you will come back and put another babe in me. A little prince or princess," she hisses in his ear, and she can tell he freezes at that, her concession to his treason, still as stone in his metal casings.

His eyes are ever so blue as they search hers.

"So I forbid any recklessness, my Lord Husband. Because I want this - " and her hand slips beneath his jerkin and the hem of mail to squeeze his cockstand most assuredly, as assuredly as she was that he would be sporting one for her, gripping it as one might grasp a chalice of wine during a toast "- and the rest of you, in one piece." Harry slumps against her shoulder, panting into the chilled hair and too heavy for her little frame. "Or so help me God." she intones, sharper than any steel he wields. "Swear it, Harry." She gives him another punishing squeeze, and he groans, agonized, as his mouth meets with the softness of her bound bosom, his knees the hardness of the stone cobbles. If she hadn't promised a use for his cock, he'd think she was liable to geld him herself at his presumption to seat and unseat a king, but now that he is out of her grip, for a moment, and looks up at her with such longing he fears his soul has left his chest for hers.

"So help me God." he agrees, it is in providence’s hands, after all, and in Kate’s clasped one’s atop his head.

“Fool.” she says once more as she bends over him, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to her belly and her chilled fingers to his sopping hair, “It is not my brother these men fight for, nor for me. Not when it is you that calls them to it.”

“For what then?” He mumbles into her womb, hands heavy on her hips, the courtyard’s occupants dispersed into the shadows of the eaves, but a couple dozen peering eyes twinkle towards them in the twilight’s gloom.

“How often have I heard it said here, in this very courtyard.” Kate scoffs, observing the strength knelt so adoringly before her, “Have I dreamed each cry of ‘no prince save he be a Percy?’ Ha, to think they fight for a Mortimer, indeed. Ha!”

Harry staggers to his feet at this poke, it is, as are so many of his Kate’s wounds, half torment, half praise. His blood pounds with the elixir of her acknowledgment of his capability. “It is well then, Kate Mortimer,” he recites, daring now to put his lips very near her own, to nuzzle his strong nose with her hawkish one, to tip a chin and bat an eyelash against her wet cheek, “it is well that you are Percy now yourself, through and through, wed-“ his lips meet hers in a brush she chases after, “-and bred.”

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

Hope all five of you who read that enjoyed it. 😆 I know it’s a fragment but as I’m nothing but hyper fixated when some interests resurrects in me, I’ll probably be back with more of them. Drop a note below if you’d like to be on a taglist for such developments.

[raveledits]

[cerezzzita]

I just realized something. If Eva and Sparda had ever met in the 70s, Eva would definitely look like Farrah Fawcett, hairstyle and all.

I'm not (completly) delusional, I mean, look at this:

To me they look-alike as hell.

[beegs-bugs]

I need yalls tma fancasts/faceclaims

I wanna draw all the characters but I need references and all I have so far is Jon as Dev Patel

[chxrrybomb22]

Tom Riddle x twin reader (fem) (AU)

Cowritten by @chxrrybomb22 @midnightgrimoire

[sorry if their is spelling mistakes we did go did poof read it and we are both dyslexic]

18+ warning - We don’t know what warning to add. ~Just so you know it will be dark just not yet~ (P.T 1 remake feedback would be appreciated and any repost ☺️)

(Tom Riddle) - {Christian Coulson}

( Adelaide Riddle) - {Lily Collins}

(Alexander McLaggen) - {Hayden Christensen}

The three moon bored are made by both me and @midnightgrimoire and they are at the bottom

Tom and Adelaide Riddle are like a ying and yang one represent the good and one represents the evil. They have had a shit childhood and that putting it lightly. From their mother drugging their father with a love potion which has only effected tom not Adelaide ( nobody knows for certain why) as Tom has grown to become obsessive and controlling over Adelaide.

Living in an orphanage was not all sunshine and rainbow as Adelaide was bullied for being ‘weaker than Tom and more valuable’. If you are wondering what happened to their mother and father you will be shocked that their mother loved a muggle who didn’t love her back so she drugged him with a love potion and once she given birth the potion worn off and their father fled in fright as he ‘woke up from a sleep’ and he was terrified to find out he was married to a woman he didn’t know and has just given birth to his ‘twins’.

Once Tom and Adelaide were 11 they were approached by a man called Dr.Dumbledore. Who they thought was a doctor to help Tom after he had ‘accident’ with an other child in the orphanage after Adelaide kept playing with the child everyday and not Tom unknowingly putting that child in risk. People were often too scared to approach Adelaide when tom was lurking about which confused the poor girl as to her he was the best brother and twin anyone could ask for ( not knowing how evil he truly was. Completely convinced the ‘accidents were just that accidents’}.

{ time jump to first year in Hogwarts after being sorted into different houses}

To say tom was livid was an understatement of the century would not be accurate to the rage he was feeling after hearing the sorting hat split him and his precious twin “ how would she survive without him?” Whyl he was simmering with rage she was content to have made new friends as back in the orphanage she had no friends due to toms actions.

At the hufflepuf table Adelaide was happy to be making friends and having playful conversations with people who didn’t run away in fear of her brother. And this is when she met her future best friend and soon to be lover Alexander McLaggen. For the poor boy it was love at first sight when he saw Adelaide and her soft, warm doe eyes, the complete opposite of Toms cold and calculating eyes. He was completely enamoured which her.

And yes if you are wondering his great-nephew is Cormac McLaggen, the only difference is Alexander was raised right. He felt more comfortable with Adelaide knowing she was ‘ment’ to be in Slytherin with her twin, Knowing they were in the ‘wrong house’ as his family before him were all in Gryffinod the pressure was immense.

Half way through the year tom confronts his sister and warns her to stay away from the boy “not only are we not in the same house but now you’re talking and hanging around MCcLaggen. That childish twat doesn’t stop talking about quidich and doesn’t even know basic potions”

And her response were “so what if he doesn’t stop talking about the things he’s like i mean look at me i love to talk about animals and plants, dose that mean there is something wrong with me? Do I annoy you too? Tom? I am also bad at positions dose that mean I’m stupid?’

“ no your not don’t say something like that your not stupid or annoying you’re my sister, my twin, two half of one soul i could never get mad at you” but what he didn’t say was ‘but i can get mad at everyone else who got in my way to you’.

{ time jump to their 3rd year Tom find out they kiss }

Now they been at school for 3 year everything was going smoothly tom doesn’t know about Adelaide and Alexander secret meetings for the last to years outside the common rooms. ( the only time they get to see each other is in the common rooms as tom makes sure to keep them both separated from each other).

Tom demanded Adelaide to meet him in the library for a study session “what do you mean you don’t get it Adelaide we have been over this you add the water after the trolls snot”

“ but its too hard to remember how do you remember it? It’s too hard can’t we just go in the gardens and looks for bunnies?”

“ you know better than anyone else ‘bunnies’ wouldn’t be on hog warts grounds the womping willow will kill them all and-“ and this was when tom was interrupted by a Cher air and oblivious Alexander not knowing tom hated his guts. “ Adelaide fancy seeing you here i thought you said you don’t like to read?”

At this point you can see this is were tom anger started to boil “ well she needs to learn somehow and no thanks to you.”

“ ok not gonna lie that was a bit harsh but what can you do? We all cant be good at everything like you mister perfect.” Watching the pissing match between the two boys Adelaide had enough and decided she was finished watching them metaphorically go at each others throats. “ ok, ok, ok, Enough i get it, I get it your both the pretty girls. But i need to go and i have had it with you and all your bickering. McLaggen i will see you in the common rooms later after class, don’t forget you need to give back that ‘ book you borrowed’” she quickly got up and headed off the common rooms all the why’ll tom was giving both of them death glares. “ sure ill go get it now” they both race off together to the common rooms to avoid toms glare.

After Tom sneakers in the hufflepuff common rooms to see Adelaide he notice she not there and he starts to panick as it is past curfew set by the teachers, as he starts to franctily search around the common room only to come across fain noise in one of the alcoves on the wall. Pulling the curtain with a greate amount of force only to find not to ind his twin, his other half with none other than that low life boy!!!!!.

Adelaide and Alexander were in their own world completely unaware of tom presents. As Adelaide was telling Alexander all about the new bird she had found.

“I was shocked because it’s not everyday you see a Red-Baked Shrike” Adelaide spoke with so much enthusiasm it was almost like her eyes were sparking. “So what is a red-Baked shrike? And were did you find it?”

“A Red-Baked shrike is a little off white bird with brown wings and back line a cross it eye s almost as if it doesn’t want you to know who it is ~” she slowly stops talking only to see Alexander is staring at her lip with such a intense gaze it could have melt ice and all Alexander could think was how stunning her brown eye look and how the colour in her eyes looks like the most inviting hot cup of hot coco (her favourite drink). Alexander couldn’t help him self from starring at her and thinking when he is around her time stops as if he had the choice all he could listen to was her voice for all eternity. “Can i just say you have the most welcoming and softest voice i have ever had the pleasure of hearing in my life” as he basked in her inviting aura. “ I-I-I don’t really know how to respond s-s-sorry?”

“ let me respond for you-“ before he new it he had worked up the courage to lean over and give her a kiss.

Her lip were Devine, the softest of any silk and My God she tasted better than he could have ever imagined. Adelaide was at shock at first because she didn’t think her best friend and her long time crush would like her never mind kissing her. ( The woman was stunned to speak)she was stunned in to silence and then she returned the kiss with just as much if not more passion. They broke apart from their kiss looking at each other as if they were the only ones left in the world. “Can i just say that was the BEST kiss I’ve ever had in my life” that statement caused Adelaide to ruin the mood by lauhing out loud and Antalya saying “that WAS your first kiss you have nothing to compère it with.”

Unknown to them tom was watching the whole scene go down. He was all but ready to rag that little shit to the forbidden forest and feed him to the monsters that lay within. The amount of rage he was feeling was incomprehensible the only thing that stopped him from confronting them. Was the fact that they were in the Hufflepuff common room as well as the prefects finish the rounds of the castle for the night. Once tom finally makes it to his room he begins to make plans on how to separate that little cunt and his pressure little Adelaide.

[grechkathekasha]

*silently shows the wheel of time oc she ships with lanfear with zero cringe behind those eyes*

[joelletwo]

[ID from alt: shouyou gintama and matoba natsuyuu drawn together to show their similarity in closed-eye smiling expression, long hair, and kimono]

they're telling jokes. /_^