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Friendly Reminder

Cal has a “arguing with mare” stance and it is that of someone going into physical battle

Vivaldi played by the South African elementary school Goede Hoop Marimba Band

Turn ON the sound

harry is scuffed converse, glasses constantly slipping down his nose, socks sagging from too many wears and eyes drooping from another late night. he’s the smell of broomstick polish and a crisp autumn morning, the rustle of leaves in dimly lit woods, sunlight dappling the floor golden. he’s the incessant tapping of a foot, tap tap tap tap tap tap, waiting for something but not knowing what. he’s an early morning run in the cold february air, lungs burning, eyes streaming, soul on fire. he’s a small smile that shows so much, a twinkle of the eyes that requires nothing said at all. he’s nights spent in a room alone, throwing spells against the wall, working and working and pushing and pushing. he’s warmth, yet distance. soft edges but biting teeth. anything and everything, wrapped into one; a myriad of emotion and feeling and fire that never ever seems to extinguish.

hermione is oxfords tied exactly twice, deep brown and shining. she’s the breeze in october, cool yet full of warmth, of faded reds and golds and browns twirling in the air. she’s running a finger down the spine of an old book, the creaking of aged, yellowing pages. she’s sunlight streaming through an opened window, illuminating the dust as it falls to the floor, floating and sparkling and almost magical. she’s holding a too hot cup of tea in mittened hands, the crunch of twigs underneath fraying boots, the rustle of leaves that have been silent for far too long. she’s nights spent in the biggest, oldest, coziest couch, papers scattered haphazardly, quill in mouth, biting biting biting, hands flitting from page to page and word to word, eyes bleary yet bright. she’s something steady, yet ever moving, wheels turning round and round and round, never pausing too long until the next idea, next destination, next task. she’s knowing that once, twice, is never enough to get it right. a grand idea tied neatly into a small, paper wrapped package, sensible yet never fanciful.

ron is bare feet curled into soft sand. he’s the crackle of a fire on low heat, just bright enough to illuminate every dip and rise of those huddled around, basking in its warmth. he’s the soft sun in may, illuminating and bright but never blinding. he’s a warm hand clasped around a wrist, a steady hand firm on a shoulder, felt but never seen. he’s the smell of freshly baked bread, of waking up to pancakes and the sound of voices laughing down the stairs. he’s sunlight through blinds, casting lines of light throughout the room, bright as day yet soft, never harsh or unyielding. he’s the feeling of laying in the grass, staring up at the clouds as they roll through a light, ever blue sky. he’s head in one hand, staring out the window and imagining new worlds and knights in shining armor and princesses high in castles as a voice in the background drones on and on and on, fading into white noise. he’s so much, yet never too much, a guiding light in the darkness, something almost like home, warmth in a sea of cold.

otw [ellie williams]

pairing; afab!ellie x fem!reader

cw; strap-on sex (r!receiving), breeding kink 

an; hello.  (btw just ignore the title it's from pu$$y fairy by jhene aiko okay bye)

tags; @scandalcus @prettyplant0 @prrimordiais @frogychu @roarriita

18+ only mdni!!!!!

this didn’t happen very often. 

only after a particularly long day, spent lounging around the house with ellie–sloppy, lazy kisses turning into an orgasm. and then another…and another…and some more…until you were laying sweaty and naked in the sheets, ellie pressing wet kisses to your sternum as she fucked into you with her silicone cock, deep and slow.

it’s not scientifically possible. 

but that didn’t stop ellie from trying. 

“please, ellie– fuck,” you were breathless, digging your nails into her shoulderblades as she ground her hips into you, her heavy breaths fanning over your skin, making you shiver, making you desperate. you were practically seeing stars, tears streaming down your face, each brush against your puffy clit making you whine and tremble beneath her. 

“fuuuck,” she drawled, and you felt her hips stutter, keeping her cock buried deep inside you for a moment before she was picking up her pace, your pleading and babbling driving her crazy, clouding her mind, and you knew what she was feeling. she silenced one of your moans with a kiss, caging your head between her arms as she fucked into your harder—deeper somehow—your juices dribbling out pathetically around her as she grunted into your mouth. 

“gonna fucking fill you up, m’god,” she was drunk on you, wasn’t making sense, but your pussy was clenching around her desperately, trying to milk it out of her regardless.

“so fucking good for me, baby, so s’good, my fucking best girl, fuck–” she was losing her inhibition, the velocity at which she was fucking you making the headboard bang against the wall, and oh– she was reaching down to angle your hips just right, and a broken sob fell from your lips as you gripped her tighter, trying to feel her closer, and closer, and–

“–close, i’m so close,” she was panting, had to bury her head into your shoulder as she fucked you. it was overwhelming, the sound of your squelching cunt as she kept you split open, your pants and gasps and sobs as your orgasm bloomed inside of you. knew what she wanted, what you needed, 

“wanna feel it, pleasepleaseplease,” you were barely coherent, so fucked out and needy for her–

“yeah?” and she always got a big head about getting you like this, “i know baby, want me to make you the mother of my fucking kids? huh?” and to punctuate her sinful words even further, she moved a hand down to press on your stomach, and you were right there, oh my god oh my god–

“c’mon babe, loosen up– yeah, that’s it, you feel that? just how you need it...” and oh, yeah, you could, somehow—white, hot, filling you up, consumed by her grunting and mantra of you’re fuckin’ mine, all mine, all mine all mine,” 

and you were,

hers.

don’t bite the hand that fingered you or whatev they say

Zainab Aamir

It’s throbbing.

That’s Louis Rossman, a repair technician and YouTuber, who went viral recently for railing against Apple. Apple purposely charges a lot for repairs and you either have to pay up or buy a new device. That’s because Apple withholds necessary tools and information from outside repair shops. And to think, we were just so close to change.

Follow @the-future-now

Get Well Soon

Harry gets the magical flu and he’s laid up in bed for a week. The only reason he doesn’t fall behind in classes is because he gets notes from a classmate, but he doesn’t know who it is.

For @loveyprophet​

(You can read it on AO3 here)

Magical flu – who would have thought that’d be a thing? Unfortunately for Harry, it was.

He’d been laid up in bed for three days now, swaddled in blankets and sleeping through the day.

The first few days he had spent in the hospital wing, but once his fever broke the matron agreed to let him rest in the Gryffindor dorms.

The first letter came that evening. Harry watched as it fluttered through the open window of the dorm room, fluttering wings keeping it afloat as it gracefully circled the room, the paper crackling with the movement.

Harry cupped his hands and held out his arms, watching – mesmerised – as the enchanted paper bird landed in his hand and fell still.

He carefully unfolded the paper, feeling a strange warmth settle in his chest as he looked down at the elegant scrawls of lettering across the page.

There were pages upon pages of notes, each titled by which class they were for. There were notes for the past three days of lessons—about what they had learnt in class as well as observations the writer had made and doodles and illustrations along the edges of the paper.

Among the notes for Herbology, there were illustrations of the plants as well as notes on the side about how to tend to them, what potions and medicines they were used in, and their own magical properties.

There were more notes on Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. The notes for Astronomy were covered in illustrations of stars and constellations that sat alongside the lesson notes: Canis Major with a brilliantly vibrant star—Sirius; Cygnus, Lyra, and at the bottom of the page Draco.  

For Potions, there were detailed notes on what the potion was used for and step-by-step instructions. In the columns were small illustrations of the ingredients – herbs, beetles, flowers; all beautifully drawn – and an animated drawing of a potion blowing up in Seamus’ face—a common enough occurrence that seeing the animated sketch play through made Harry smile.

Harry read the notes avidly, finding himself smiling more and more as he read through the pages. But what caught him off guard was the final page; it was empty except for one sentence, the beautifully elegant handwriting making the words seem all the more meaningful.

Get well soon.

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