sebastianfuckingstans:

mary had a little lamb

that loved her very much

but mary didn’t care for sheep

and ate that lamb for lunch

Prefacing this by saying that it was originally going to be a Supernatural AU buuuut I got carried away and lost in mythology. So no Supernatural AU. But dragons! In the modern era!!! And cliche love stories because why the fuck not?

Also don’t expect this format to stick. I’m actually thinking of writing it from Jefferson’s point of view instead. Or switching. It depends.

————

This is what I have been taught my entire life. Why am I questioning it now? The thought ran through Tristan Gold’s head as he stared into his whiskey. He was well on his way to drunk, and the bartender had begun giving him odd looks. He had been there all night, never moving from his seat or speaking to anyone. Maybe because no one ever told you that dragons would look so… normal. 

Tristan was raised to be a dragon slayer, for the prophecies said that he would be the one to save the world from the fire and chaos the dragons would bring. But on just a chance, he’d had an early run-in with one, and began to question his destiny.

A little bit of meta info on Jehan, to avoid confusion ahead of time:

Jehan’s nineteen years old, and an art student in college. I’m not sure where this RP is set, but it doesn’t seem to be in France? Either way, he’s of French descent.

He likes plants(flowers and otherwise— he has an herb garden, flower garden, and a poison garden), fashion, art, love, and poetry. 

He has a bit of a crush on Courfeyrac, but it’s silenced as Courfeyrac never seemed interested to him. Also because Courfeyrac patently can’t keep it in his pants, and Jehan doesn’t want to put up with that.

While fascinated with love and the concept of being in love, he isn’t the type to fall for just anyone who shows him niceties. By nature, he has high standards, although he can be a bit too trusting of very pretty, very nice people(generally men, but his sexuality is ambiguous as his gender).

On sexuality and gender: He identifies as genderqueer, although he’d rather tell people he’s male than explain what the hell that is to everyone. He’s about a four or five on the Kinsey Scale, meaning he’s predominantly homosexual, but occasionally finds himself attracted to women.

Jehan enjoys protesting with his friends, especially on the heavily liberal subjects like abortion, women’s rights, and LGBT issues. He can get just as loud as Enjolras if he cares enough.

This really can’t be called anything more than a snippet, but I wanted to get something up here. It’s as yet untitled, but I’m sure I’ll think of something soon enough.

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alyxturow:

Busy cities always made Alyx nervous. She thought about this as she navigated the sidewalks, deftly avoiding contact with anyone so long as she could manage it. On the few occasions that she did bump into someone, they muttered something that must be rude— rudeness was a human thing and Alyx didn’t understand the nuances of it— at her and continued on their way. How odd, the way that humans can so quickly move from irritation to carelessness.

Finally, she reached her destination: the candy store. Alyx had come all the way from her little home to find the perfect piece of candy. Of all the things humans had come up with, the brunette knew that chocolate was certainly the best. 

Making her way through the doors, Alyx made sure that the money she’d wished for only moments previously made its way into her pocket, and sure enough it had. This pleased the half-demon, as the last time she’d forgotten about the necessity of money and was thrown out of the store. She contemplated simply taking the candy, but an old friend had once told her of the terror that is prison, and that she should never steal or kill in order to stay out. Alyx always remembered the lessons her friends have taught her.

After paying for the money, Alyx sat outside the store and smiled to herself, unwrapping the chocolate bar and savoring the taste. She’d only bought three, for when she placed an entire box on the counter, the humans said discouraging things about her. If she was to make friends as she wanted to, she needed to appeal to the silly sensibilities of the humans, even if she didn’t want to.

paxilonhydrochlorate:

Lost. 
Draco Malfoy.

Two words that never
fell in the same sentence,
ever.

When
Draco Malfoy
looks at proud
Hermione Granger,
he feels like a lost child.
He was once
that proud,
that collected,
that stubborn.

What happened?

Was it
the unexpected rejection
of a golden boy
he should have been?

Was it
ever-growing pressure
from a father
who couldn’t let his prodigy
just be happy? 

What is happiness
anyhow?
Does Draco Malfoy
even know how to be happy?

Happiness is
chocolate brown eyes
so easy to get lost in

beautiful brown hair
frizzy and e v e r y w h e r e
but somehow softer
than the most expensive _fur

a sharp wit
and a voice that allows
no ｃｏｎｔｅｓｔ .

Happiness
for Draco Malfoy
is built into
every fiber
every vein
every hair
every cell
of one Gryffindor girl
by the name of 

Hermione Jean Granger.

I love her. And I worship her, no matter what. My Alyson, my lady, my everything.

Dillon watched Sophie play on the swingset, smiling slightly as she squealed with delight at the new heights she could reach. He sat on a bench not far from the childrens’ equipment, far enough away that he could tune out the chatter but not so far that he couldn’t reach Sophie should something happen.

Times like this were his— a time to mourn Matelynn and think about things he never got a chance to during the day. He would walk with his daughter up to the park, send her towards the playground, and seat himself on the same bench every day. Sophie would play until she was exhausted, and then join her father on the bench and they’d talk for a few minutes before returning home.

Sophie was 8 years old, and she’d begun to pick up the habit of playing ‘Twenty Questions’ every chance she could. It didn’t bother Dillon much, having the patience of a saint, and he humored her eager inquiries daily. Sometimes, however, she would surprise Dillon with a particularly clever or personal question, and he’d have to take the time to give her a proper answer. This day was one of those days.

“Daddy, do you think Mommy is watching us right now?” The little strawberry blonde girl asked, blue eyes staring up at her father calmly. He looked down at her and knew that she’d persist until his answer was given. Sighing softly, Dillon smiled and nodded.

“Yes, she’s always watching you. I’ll bet she’s proud of you, too, Sophie. You’re growing up to be just as confident and beautiful as she was.” He patted her hair fondly, eyes crinkling at the edges as he imagined Matelynn talking about their daughter. ‘She’s almost prettier than me, damnit!’ She’d say, and Dillon would chuckle and disagree sincerely.

From afar, Matelynn sat in a tree, biting her lip to keep from letting her crying be heard.

luckyshirt:

Miley Cyrus - Jolene

Hold up.

Miley Cyrus can… sing…?

i hear this song and i think it’s from leo to matelynn about ahren.

(via trenchcoatsexual)

Warnings: None. Entirely safe for work.

More brOTP than shippy in this one, but I promise this will get shippy as time goes on.

“Come now.” Jefferson quirked an eyebrow at the imp-like man but followed along as told. He knew all the rumors surrounding the Dark One, but was curious as to which ones were and weren’t true, and it was partially because of that curiosity(the other part being, of course, that he was invited inside) that he was now walking through The Dark Castle with an interested expression. “Now, now, dearie. Don’t make me wait on you.”

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Jefferson realized he’d stopped walking to gape. Adjusting the hat on his head, Jefferson gave only a grin in response and caught up with Rumpelstiltskin. He’d found his way to this castle on his own, but was wondering if he’d be able to get out in a similarly independent fashion. They walked up several winding flights of stairs, twisting and turning down this hallway or that, and it was quite possible that the Dark One was only doing this to confuse Jefferson— and he was succeeding at doing so.

“If I had known that I’d be walking all this way, I’d have just climbed to the top of your castle before coming in,” he quipped in the same bored drawl he used on everyone. Dark One or no, this man was no exception to Jefferson’s easy snark.

“And you would have fallen and broken your neck, because I don’t appreciate cats on my roof.” Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand casually, and the realm jumper winced. That wasn’t a pretty mental image, and he’d give much to avoid that outcome.

After what seemed like several hours, they reached a room at the top of a tower. Rumpelstiltskin opened the door and sauntered in, giving Jefferson a moment to survey everything before the Hatter stepped in himself. Nothing seemed too much like a trap, but he could never know with one of the great powers of the world.

“Now, I have a proposal for you. I’ve been expecting you for some time, dearie, and I know all about your travels. I’d like for you to find something of mine…” Jefferson was a little surprised at the offer for a deal, but he smirked and licked his lips in anticipation.

“If that’s the case, tell me what you need. My skills are entirely at your disposal.” The almost purred response, coupled with a bow, was the beginnings of a very interesting friendship between two people who very much enjoyed making deals.