fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Sketch of Jeremy with his yo-yo. I just wanted something simple to doodle and this book has been heavy on my brain 😂
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Giveaway prize for @fuzzballsheltiepants of a scene from the fic Waiting Up For Better Things
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
“There I was standing in front of the shop, surrounded by all of them, the name GORDO’S on a sign above us.“
the photographs in Gordo’s wouldn’t leave my brain during my Heartsong re-read
DO NOT USE, EDIT OR REPOST
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Some time ago, you sold your soul to the Devil. He just gave it back and asked you for a favor.
There’s really no good time to open your front door and find a demon standing on your doormat, but five minutes before you’re supposed to leave for work is an especially bad time.
Of course, no-one else would know that the Devil - or a demon who claimed to be the Biblical Satan, I had no way of knowing for sure - was on my doorstep. He’s wearing a discreet grey suit, which is honestly much more suitable than the flashy black number with the cape he was wearing last time we met. Still wearing the same face, thought.
“I was under the impression,” I say slowly, “that my deal was concluded.”
I suppose everyone has what they feel like pressing reasons for selling their souls. The life of a loved one is a common one. I was careful with my bargain - health, wealth and happiness for all of my children for the period of their natural lives. I wasn’t going to blow my entire immortal soul on just one of them, and then see another one get sick.
“It is,” the demon calling himself Lucifer says slowly. “But I have come to offer you a new bargain.”
I raise my eyebrows. “For what? You already have full post-expiry rights to my immortal soul, subject to fulfilment of all conditions of our contract.”
“And I’m willing to return those… post-expiry rights to you, in exchange for… a favour.” He actually looks embarrassed. I didn’t think demons could get flustered.
“A favour.” I look at my watch. “I have to get to work. Will this favour take long?”
“Yes, it will.” He looks around, looking more flustered than ever. “When would be a… good time, then?”
I check my watch again. “If you can get through it in half an hour, I can fit you in at eleven. If it’s going to take longer, you’ll have to wait until after work.”
“I remember you as being more accommodating,” he says dryly.
“I remember that last time we met, I was the one who wanted something.”
“You don’t want your soul back?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t know what the price is going to be.” I step out, closing the door behind me. “I’ll tell you what. Meet me outside my office at six. I suppose that under the circumstances, I could give you the courtesy of a free consultation.”
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Anonymous asked:
a humble request of more blanche content, the neighbor of andrew and neil
I LOVE BLANCHE (here’s where i first wrote about her)
- when andrew graduates, he signs with a pro team and moves into a studio apartment in portland
- his adjustment period is a little rough, he’s surprisingly homesick for the foxes/neil, and settling in with his new team takes a while
- one night he’s coming back from a long practice when he sees the old lady who lives next door trying to carry a big box up the stairs
- naturally he offers to help her, and she starts rambling about this cake she just made, and how he should absolutely stay and have some coffee
- what is he gonna do? say no??
- he learns her name is blanche, and she was recently widowed a few years ago
- andrew is intrigued, because her apartment is a) very colorful b) covered in souvenirs and photographs from all over the world and c) currently a foster home for kittens from a local shelter
- the box was full of wet food, and he helps feed the 8 kittens she’s currently watching over as she gets their cake and coffee ready
- she explains that she started fostering cats as a way to cope with her grief, but it also just makes her happy
- they start talking, and andrew prepares himself to listen politely to her life story for maybe 45 minutes tops before excusing himself, but he is ENTHRALLED
- (also the cake is amazing)
- turns out blanche and her husband eloped when they were barely 20 because her toxic, wealthy family disapproved of her falling in love with a total hippie
- they then spent a decade as nomadic photographers, traveling all over the place in search of “good stories” before they decided to settle down and have kids
- she also swears like a sailor, taught herself five languages, and enjoys laughing about all her near death experiences
- blanche: “name any major social movement from that time and i’d betcha we were there! i can’t tell you how many times my husband and i had to escape on motorcycle from the cops”
- andrew: “wow.”
- andrew, internally: “what the fuck. what the fuck. this 70 something year old is the coolest fucking person i’ve ever met. what the Fuck.”
- after two hours of chatting she makes him take some cake home and also asks if he’d be interested in perhaps adopting a kitten or two
- again: what is he gonna do?? say no???
- and THAT’S how sir and king come into his life
- they start having coffee every week, and andrew is not at all embarrassed by the fact that blanche is now one of his good friends
- when he casually mentions this to the other foxes everyone is bewildered but neil? not surprised at all
- since he doesn’t like sweets, blanche bakes neil a whole tray of focaccia as a welcome gift when he moves in with andrew
- “i am so glad to finally meet you, neil! i’ve heard so much about you from andrew” “good things?”
- andrew: “bad.”
- neil likes blanche enough, but their friendship isn’t fully solidified until they show up in her apartment for coffee one week and he has a bandage on his face from a court brawl
- “is that from exy?” “yes” “who hit you?” “the opposing backliner. it’s normal. the sport is really violent.” “hm. well i sure hope you socked him right back” “of...of course” “good! now who wants banana bread?”
- blanche reminds neil a little bit of wymack and a little bit of abby, but also a little bit of his mother
- he’s never really wanted or thought about having a grandmother before, but now he gets the appeal
- he also just finds her dynamic with andrew absolutely hilarious
- one time andrew took her to the grocery store in the maserati and they may have gotten a few stares
- “there better be a trunk in there somewhere or it’s a shit car, andrew” “there’s a trunk, blanche” “how’d you pay for this thing?” “with cash” “for fuck’s sake, andrew” “it’s fine, blanche”
- they then proceeded to argue in every section of the store
- “oh please, six dollars for that tiny thing of ice cream? tell me what you like and i’ll make you some for free” “i get paid in millions of dollars” “then why don’t you spend it on a car with a bigger trunk?” “blanche-”
- unbeknownst to them, a fellow shopper sneaks some photos and posts them to twitter
- and that’s how blanche gets several hysterical phone calls from her teenaged exy fan grandkids wanting to know why the internet thinks she’s andrew minyard’s grandma
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Guess what I’ve been watching? Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been waiting for the show to be released, and I loved it! So, here’s Jesper from Shadow and bones, or Six of Crows (whatever you prefers).
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Henry completely butchering Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen is one of my favorite scenes ever. what an icon
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
I participated in the @aftgexchange and made this piece for @fuzzballsheltiepants. Just some fluffy Andreil for the soul. I really hope you like it!
!!!!!!!! This is absolutely gorgeous, I love it so much! The trust between them, the softness, the city in the background, it’s amazing omg
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
That feeling tho when you find that fic writer that just absolutely fucking
- understands the characters to their core
- writes so well they–just so–they just—their writing is—-THEY WRITE GOOD
- shatters your bad mood with a new update
- writes a fic that you can read over again and still clutch at your heart like HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE–I LOVE THIS FIC
- writes a scene that has you all giddy in public and that one random stranger asks you like “ooo you are smiling :) :) is that a boy :) you are talking to :)” and you’re like “no I’m reading a Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies AU, please leave”
- understands and portrays the characters better than the people who make MOVIES with those characters
- amazing. just amazing. fic writers are awesome
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Awww yes, it’s skijoring season in Colorado. I hope I get to go watch this year.
How the chicken-fried FUCK did I not know about this before? I am delighted.
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
Recently finished rereading the aftg trilogy again… I had to draw the kids
(click for fullsize!)
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
im crying
notalwaysluminous
a friend of mine forgot the word “lamp” once and said “light faucet”
I’m shaking from laughter. Yes, this is the right way to start a Friday morning.
ravingliberal
Listen guys, I have a BA in English and an MA in Professional Writing and I have:
Forgotten the word “gums” and called them “teeth cuticles” Forgotten the term “liquor store” and called it a “rum-o-rama” Forgotten the word “mohawk” and called it a “head mustache”
The list goes on and on. Wording is HARD.
You know that putty you put in holes before you paint a wall? I forgot the word “putty,” called it “hole-be-gone” instead, and now my whole family refers to it as hole-be-gone.
the-true-space-fandom
it’s hard to make the brain do the english, ok!?
I wish I had this skill. When I lose a word, my brain derails. I use the term ‘derail’ because it is the mental equivalent of a train derailment (just easier to clean up)
serinsnart
At the staff meeting, my boss referred to the clipboard as “that snappy board”
My 4-year-old nephew didn’t know the word “knuckle” so he told us his finger knee hurt.
I forgot the word “speech” once so I said “you wrote me an essay with your mouth”
Dad once temporarily had the term “auto body filler” leave his brain; the Canadian Tire worker had her whole day made when he cheerfully said, “I’m here to procure some…car-spackle!”
I once forgot the work barrel so I described it as a round wooden box and then something “pirates put rum in it” before my mate figured out what I meant.
Source: bzfd.it