i adore the founders. if you ask me who i’d ship among them, it’d be rowena/ salazar. sounds sexy, and it makes sense.
stand it anymore, darling
(via twsykes-feltson-lerman)
Graveyard Valentine by Bex-chan
Hermione thought she was the only person in the world who would spend Valentine’s Day in a Graveyard, but she was wrong. He’s there. Every single year, with his gloves, roses, and answers. Dramione Valentine’s Day one-shot. Post-Hogwarts. EWE.
(via kateverlarks)
the four founders of hogwarts
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
I adore the founders. And the gifs others make of ‘em.
(via katnipodairr)
Thank you so much :)
Year 2067
“Did you ever have an unrequited love, grandmamma?” Emma’s 16- year- old granddaughter gazed up at her wonderingly. Emily had been cast for an important role in a Shakespeare play, and it seemed that she was eager to look for real life experiences to relate to.
“Yes, darling.” Emma replied.
“So you didn’t really love grandpa?” Emily’s eyes widened.
“I did. Just…not as much. But your grandfather has been my best friend for the last forty years, and we did love each other very much. I could never have asked for anything more from him.” As Emma spoke about her deceased husband, she sighed wistfully.
“Would you tell me the story?”
Emma pondered over the request for the moment, and then decided that Emily was a mature, understanding girl, wise beyond her years, and she deserved to know as much as she could so she could guard her heart better than her grandmother did.
“Yes.”
Emily sat back, satisfied, and waited.
Year 2017
It might have been crowded and dim in the club, but even Emma’s vision wasn’t nearly clouded enough to ignore the fact that she had just spotted her childhood friend and longtime crush sitting at the bar, nursing a gin tonic.
As she stood, rooted to the ground, a thousand possibilities raced through her mind. Just as she settled on the safest and easiest one (to walk away and pretend she hadn’t seen him), he turned and his gaze locked onto hers.
Bollocks.
For a single heartbeat, none of them made a move. Then the corner of his mouth curved up in a wan smile, and he waved his arm at her. She let out a stream of breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, and walked towards him, injecting what she hoped was a confident, happy expression into her features.
“Hey.” He greeted softly, and nostalgia overwhelmed her as she remembered how much she adored watching him practice reading out his scenes. His voice had a soothing, warm tone to it that she couldn’t ever seem to find in any other person she had met, and over the past few years, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed hearing it.
“Hello.” Emma returned, hopping onto the empty barstool next to him.
“So, what’s a girl like you doing a place like this?” Tom asked, gesturing in the direction of the dance floor, where numerous bodies coupled together in a gyrating mass that moved to the beat of the headache- inducing club music.
Emma winced as she saw one girl take a particularly grand stumble on her four- inch heels, and turned back to him.
“Friends.” She answered simply, and he made a small ‘ah’ as though he had expected it.
He didn’t know it, but it pained her, really, that he seemed to think she was so predictable. She wasn’t a wild child, but it didn’t mean she was the boring ‘goody two- shoes’ the media had branded her as.
She did know how to have fun, contrary to popular belief, except that her idea of fun didn’t involve rocking it out to a ridiculous number of decibels. A nice night out at the movies suited her fine, as did long walks down beaches and parks.
Oh damn. She did sound boring and predictable.
Emma didn’t know how to be spontaneous, or wild, or know how to make him laugh and ‘go crazy’. She wished she did, she had spent countless nights awake wishing she were that girl, but in the end, she couldn’t be someone she was not, and she had to accept the brutal truth that he wanted that someone that wasn’t her.
“I’m getting married.” He blurted out suddenly, breaking the silence that had lapsed between them.
“What?!” Emma asked, her heart clenching painfully and stopping altogether for the moment.
“I’m going to propose tomorrow.” Tom clarified, looking down into the glass he nestled between his hands.
“Oh, erm. Right. Well. Good luck with that. And. Congratulations?” Emma responded in stunted sentences, before she remembered how to breathe and chanted the in-out-in-out mantra in her mind.
Tom studied her carefully, and Emma forced out a bright smile.
“You think it’s a good idea? That I’m not rushing into things?”
“No, of course not. It’ll be great.” Emma managed to convey the words in a steady tone, and nodded emphatically at the end to support her words.
“Alright. Thank you. I hope I didn’t spring it on you, I mean, we haven’t seen each other in awhile, but I just really needed to tell someone. I’ve been keeping it a secret from everyone, just to make sure it’ll be a surprise, you know?”
Emma nodded again and repeated her words of congratulations, this time her words flowing more smoothly. For a moment after, Emma seemed to register a hint of disappointment at her words coming from his expression, but she blinked and he was smiling slightly at her again.
“You will come to the wedding, won’t you?” He asked, his piercing blue gaze striking at her in the heart.
“…I, I don’t know, Tom.” She faltered, before continuing “I might be busy, with all the projects I have lined up…”
“I understand.”
“…Right. I’d best be going then. Good luck, and I wish the two of you happiness.” Her voice grew a little choked at the end, and she quickly pushed herself off the barstool.
That was the end of their conversation, and Emma hurried back to her apartment as fast as she could, giving her friends the excuse that she was unwell. As soon as she stumbled into her room, she collapsed on the bed and cried until she could cry no more.
The news was splashed all over the headlines a week later, and Emma didn’t read the news for a whole month, wishing to avoid the heartbreak.
When the day of the wedding arrived, Emma didn’t go to work like she had planned to. Instead, she found herself curled up in front of the telly, watching classics like ‘Casanova’ and ‘Wuthering Heights’ and spooning ice cream into her mouth non- stop.
After a week of moping, however, Emma told herself that it had to stop, and she wrote a heartfelt card of congratulations to the newlywed couple, telling herself that as soon as the card was sent, she was to get over it, and focus on her work again.
Year 2067
“Do you still love him?” Emily asked, her vision misted with unshed tears.
“That, my darling, is a story for another day. It’s getting late now, off to bed you go.” Emma shook her head tiredly, giving her granddaughter a kiss on the forehead and waving her away.
Emily pouted, but didn’t dare push for more, and left the room.
Emma sighed as the door snapped shut, and reached over to her bedside drawer, pulling out an envelope that was yellowed with age. Its once- sharp corners were curled at the sides, and the handwriting was nearly faded. Despite all that, the markings of an address and the letter’s intended owners could still be made out.
It read: To Mr and Mrs Felton.
End.
(1) If you didn’t get the ending: In the previous paragraph, I had written that Emma told herself she would get over the heartbreak as soon as she posted the letter. In the end, she didn’t, therefore answering the question that her granddaughter had asked: yes, she still loves him, and she has never gotten over it. She didn’t have the courage to post the card after all.
I’m back, I’m back! A ‘sorry’ isn’t going to be enough, but a fic will be up soon!
Hello.
You obviously have not read my disclaimer. I recommend that you do so straight away, because everything that I need to say has been said there. http://feltson-love.tumblr.com/disclaimersandwarnings
And YES, my stories are unrealistic, but that’s why it’s called fanfiction, smartass. They’re not MEANT to be real, but a projected version of an individual’s DESIRED reality.
Also, I DID say I would write a fic where Tom and Jade were together, and would be MARRIED, while Emma’s merely a good friend. It’s right here in the description- http://feltson-love.tumblr.com/weddingseries
I can’t remember all my posts, so if you’d be so kind as to direct me to the one where I made ‘petty comment’ on, I’d be happy to tag an apology onto it, although I feel that you don’t deserve a single fucking apology. Your message was rude, blatant and obviously written from a viewpoint of a bitter Jade fan. I will only apologize because I feel that there ARE Jade fans out there that are conscientious and don’t go nitpicking on an opposing ship’s blog. Just because I’m not as obnoxious and forceful as some other fans out there doesn’t mean I’m an angel. It’s my right to have my own moments of bitchiness and slip ups.
Now have a fucking good day, and next time, DO try to open your eyes a little wider and perhaps, be a little more open- minded.
(Or if you had the guts, come off anon and declare your own viewpoint in a logical, respectful manner.)
P.S If you didn’t fucking notice, I have actually fucking DEFENDED Jade multiple times.
Tom Felton is fucking cute. But Seamus isn’t bad either!
(Source: anotherlifebrotha, via blanchefleurs)
Any fucking time.
(Source: feltgasm, via dramione-feltsonfanfiction)
Go on Draco, kill the mudblood.
(via spiritsky)
hopeyourapplepieisfreakinworthit:
“But mostly they moved in near silence, eyes rolled ceiling-ward, bodies exploding into wheels of flesh and plastic and nylon, but all without a word.” - Poe’s Children I’m satisfied.Her absence had felt like torture—almost a form of personal punishment. girl with the dragon tattoo dear god why did i pick this book
Shortly after Russia’s World War II victory at Stalingrad, a lady, trapped in a burning building. threw her baby to a stranger below - a soldier named Ivan Petrovich.
It was the Marvel Encyclopedia. It was on the coffee table. Clearly I’ll be Black Widow’s mother.
“The second column of Panzers arrived and everything started trembling again.”
“despite all the strafing and bombing runs by the luftwaffe they would rescue two crewmen from a burning monitor cruiser, pull three royal navymen out of the seas off dunkirk, and take 122 soldiers on board from the beleaguered hms worcester.”
but mine was about world war two…
what
what does this mean
“Hang on,” blurted Harry. “What about my punishment?”
that fits so well xD
“Mark sipped his Tea but didn’t swallow. His throat felt so tight that he might choke”
Nope, still alone with my cat it seems.
“You guys from Security?”
um
“It was funny.”
“It was funny.”
Okay.
“The only things that existed, he believed, were atoms and the void.”
Well then.
“He paused beside a pillar, before the tomb of a long-dead Stark.”
“The first time I broke through, it was an accident.”
— The Lovely Bones
OH…OKAY THEN?“I don’t want to part in any ill-humor, but can’t you understand? I’ve grown up used to seeing you, to having you with me all the time, and your actions seem unfriendly, even unkind.”- The Awakening
I know that’s two sentences but I felt the need for both because they’re crazy accurate…
“We should not preach, sing, prophesy, lead or even serve without it.”
DOES THIS MEAN SEX BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE?! fuck yeah, i’m diggin this jesus book. thx dad
“I stood up abruptly and fumbled in my purse for some coins.”
Ugh, so I’m a prostitute? Or will be paying one soon? Hopefully to go out to the comic book store with me rather than having sex with me.
I was a Beast - Beastly
omg. dying.
“I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity.” - Pride and Prejudice
This shit is straight.
(Source: loveclaire)
You have your mother’s eyes.
(via breadandfire-equals-harmony)
Lust
Seven Deadly Sins: Feltson CollectionLust or lechery (carnal “luxuria”) is usually thought of as excessive thoughts or desires of a sexual nature. In Dante’s Purgatorio, the penitent walks within flames to purge himself of lustful/sexual thoughts and feelings. In Dante’s Inferno, unforgiven souls of the sin of lust are blown about in restless hurricane-like winds symbolic of their own lack of self control to their lustful passions in earthly life.
(via lokifier)
