#jasperandgemma

(and pls don't put me into horny jail if this i by some chance from 50sog bc I didn't watch that lol)

Jas,,,,, the way this is LITERALLY the cover picture for my forbidden fruit playlist??? LOOK

It’s literally this Hotch and now I’m squirming thank you for this

Hi! Thank you so much for this question! I absolutely love music and making a ridiculous amount of playlists so I'm really excited to answer this hahaha

I have quite a few songs that I added to my Criminal Minds playlist after they were played on the show, I think the first one I added after hearing it on the show was Piano Man by Billy Joel. Not even because it was my favourite song but because that scene of them all singing karaoke to it is one of my top comfort scenes!

There have been a bunch of songs played on the show that I love and I don't think I could name them all!

Hi guys...after a long think, I decided to finally let go of the @jameswhathaway URL. While I still adore Robbie and the Lewis gang, a certain actor has soured this particular url a bit...

MY CONTENT ISN’T GOING TO CHANGE! I’m still going to post Morseverse, Phryne, Christieverse and a couple of other historical and fancies, so I hope you stick with me on this ride.

Thanks and much love,

July 15th each year, at least for me, will henceforth be known as Umbridge gif day, for no other reason than I said so. Every ask will be answered with a gif of Umbridge.

Well we’re a bit late for that summer challenge but I can still write a drabble that is summery.

Lucissa - Summertime

The summer air danced over his bare arms wrapped around his wife’s middle.

‘Hi darling,’ Narcissa murmured as her hand went up to cradle his cheek, the extra lines across her palm soft against his wizened face. ‘I thought you were taking a nap?’

He rested his head on his wife’s shoulder and sighed contently. ‘I was, I heard a commotion outside, thought I should investigate. What is Scorpius up to now?’

Narcissa chuckled softly and patted his cheek. ‘You remember the tree on the far end of the garden?’ 

The one under which they’d spent many a summer evening when they’d first gotten together, the tree under which it was quite possible they had conceived Draco. Yes, he knew which tree she meant.

‘Yes,’ he kissed her hair and took the glasses she was already handing to him. The tail end of his middle age hadn’t taken much from him yet, mercifully, but a year or two with the Dark Lord living under your roof was bound to have effects. His sight dimming slightly was one of a handful.

The laughter of his grandson guided his sharper eyes and it made him laugh ruefully as he saw the boy under the branches of the tree, looking down gleefully at a boy with a familiar mop of messy black hair and well-loved, but clearly his own, clothes.

‘Yes,’ Narcissa said lightly. ‘You were awoken dear husband by the sound of a Malfoy and a Potter playing in our garden.’

Again you mean? he almost said but it was still too bizarre to properly acknowledge. He felt his wife’s fingers entwine with his as she led him away from the balcony and out of the bedroom. ‘Come downstairs Lucius, the only Potters in this house are Daphne, Liam and Jasmine. Harry’s not with them, it’s safe.’

He squeezed his wife’s fingers and allowed her to lead him down the stairs, there was no need to argue the fact. Each new day brought him more joy and amazement in where the world took him post-war.

Because in the space of a decade … Lucius Malfoy was about to go downstairs in a home where the wife and children of the nemesis of the man he had once called Master, would greet him warmly and hug him like he was just any other grandfatherly figure.

Because his son had married the sister of The Boy Who Lived’s wife. He would drink fruit punch with his wife, his son, his daughter-in-law and grandson as the sun went down. Not in Azkaban, which he more than deserved, but in his own home.

He choked a sob and Narcissa hugged him as they were half way down the steps. ‘I know,’ she whispered as she squeezed him and kissed his lips gently. ‘I know. Now come, the children are waiting.’