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luvutothemoon · 2 days

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Brie & Harry: Blueyfied

Brie: Chihuahua. I gave her darker paws as a nod to her hair (is it dark blonde or light brown?)

Harry: Labrador Retriever. He’s greying as a nod to my hc were, once with Brie, his hair starts to turn grey

#my ocs #brie foster-riley #bridget ann foster-riley #harry goldblum #brie x harry #harry and brie #brie and harry #harry x brie #ocs #bluey cartoon #bluey #blueyfication

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longlivelindanny · 6 months

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The urge to make a blog dedicated to my OCs, even though I probably absolutely don’t have enough on them for a full blog

#I want to do it #just like I want to chop off my hair #my OCs #OC blog #Bridget Ann Foster-Riley #Brie Foster-Riley #Harry Goldblum #Brie and Harry #Phoebe Bingham #the urge is strong #I might just say f it. it’s fine

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tragedyuri · 10 months

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victor vale is draco malfoy to me but eli ever isnt harry potter to me and i have no other way to put it besides that harry is too stupid to be doing all of that

#brie speaks #cw harry potter #very sorry for the fact draco has a place in my heart #oh also #villains series

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nuriaverde · 6 months

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Tomar decisiones en el guion de "Mad Men"

¿Cómo se cuenta en guión la toma de decisiones en la serie “Mad Men? ¿Cuando Betty decide divorciarse de su marido cómo lo escriben los guionistas? ¿Cuando Don Draper decide firmar su contrato porque sus jefes quieren y Conrad Hilton también, cuando antes el creativo ha jurado que no lo haría, qué proceso sigue hasta llegar a ese punto de no retorno? -Tú tienes el poder sin contrato. Te quieren…

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bubblesbenson · 2 years

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How come Harry Styles and all of these modern pop stars can do whatever they want, but if Chris Pratt or Michael Bublé even fart (you know, like being accused of homophobia when there is no physical evidence other than a bad church), the Internet will mercilessly attack them?

Really would like to understand this logic.

Also, can we also leave Brie Larson and Tatiana Maslany alone too while we’re at it?

@impulse-cake @raven-eyed-wanderer

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longlivelindanny · 6 months

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More OC Headcanons

Brie x Harry

Harry is three years older than Brie

Harry’s birthday is January 15, 1971

Brie’s birthday is May 19, 1974

They meet at a Christmas party, and hit it off pretty much right away

It’s a whirlwind romance, having met in 2003 and marrying in spring of 2004

They elope, much to the chagrin of Harry’s parents. It doesn’t matter too much, because Harry’s parents absolutely love Brie (despite her not being Jewish)

Brie’s Dad and step Mom are less than thrilled, but Willow (Brie’s biological Mom) is ecstatic.

They get married on a Wednesday morning (May 12), since they didn’t have anything going on. Very spontaneous.

They are both excellent chefs, and their barbecues are always the talk of the town. Because they have 9-5 jobs, Harry sometimes coming in later, they can explore their cooking a lot easier.

Brie jokes that they’d own restaurants and become celebrity chefs in another universe

They go all out for the Jewish holidays, especially Chanukah. Brie always insists. In return, Harry goes all out for Christmas

Neither of them really like Thanksgiving. Brie doesn’t think turkey’s all that great. Their families get together, and it always ends up… dramatic.

And on Thanksgiving, they don’t watch the football games. They watch the dog show

They don’t have ham/pork in the house, so Brie usually gets a breakfast sandwich with bacon on the way to work.

{{ Buddy had once told Harry that Brie “must really love you because she gave up bacon for you” }}

Brie and Harry like to have dinner parties

They have 5 dogs. Usually two big ones and three little ones

They let the little dogs sleep on the bed with them, while the big dogs have their dog beds in the bedroom

They have matching couples tattoos. A wildflower and rose, and then their names

They buy a fixer upper, and have a lot of fun renovating

Brie climbs onto the counters to reach things on the top shelf. Harry finds this funny, and takes a video every time instead of helping her. She’ll get up there in her tight work skirts, and jump right back down again

Eventually, Harry rearranges their kitchen so Brie doesn’t have to break her back getting a bowl

#my OCs #Bridget Ann Foster-Riley #Brie Foster-Riley #Harry Goldblum #Brie and Harry #Harry x Brie #headcanons

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briearesea · 2 years

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Yesterday at the hardware store I saw a person wearing this shirt and I almost vomited into their face because this is nauseating. I almost forgot my split washers I was so upset

Fucking gross

#briearesea #brie goes to the hardware store #brie sees performative allyship #fuck kamala harris

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eveningepiphany · 1 year

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far from sober | H.S

my masterlist

part II

summary: you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.

warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk people (including close family members), fluff, sexual tension, brothers best friend, drunk crying lol

a/n: sorry I haven’t posted properly in a while! here’s a shorter piece while I work on some more stuff <3 plenty to come x

———

Saying you were a bit drunk was a drastic understatement.

You were stumbling all over the place, heels becoming impractical now you were so intoxicated.

Harry, who knew you were going out with some of your family and friends tonight at the bar, had no idea what he was coming back to.

You don’t remember actually intending to get this drunk, but your Aunty had been egging the group on to do some shots, and before you know it you’re well past tipsy. Even your mum was getting drunker than you’d seen in years.

So all the other boys who’d gone out— including Harry— walk into the hotel bar. It was as chic as the lobby, just adorning some more neon signs and rustic bar stools.

Harry had gone out with them to look at a heap of shit that you and your female family members had little interest in. They’d insisted you all stay and just have a couple cocktails, since it was a holiday after all.

It was to their surprise when your same eager aunt bounded up to them when they popped through the door to the bar. They had expected tipsy, but not hammered.

“Oh my god!! You guys will not believe how good the cocktails are here!” She swooned, and they all glanced at each other with an amused chuckle.

“I think I just might believe it.” One of the boys piped up.

Most of them dispersed to find their significant others, family or friends amidst the bar, and see how much chaos was being caused.

But you’d b-lined straight for Harry, regardless of whether he was seeking you out.

His brows shot up when you collided with his side, “Harry!”

Your arms wrap around his middle and you end up latching onto him, practically using him to keep yourself upright.

“Oh!” He speaks in surprise, hands jumping up to brace around your lower back.

“Are you absolutely hammered too, love?” He chuckles and you bury your face into his chest.

“Yeaaaaa…” you drawl, a smile spreading onto your face.

“Everyone else is rounding up their partners. Suppose I’m in charge of you, yea?” He suggests, rubbing your back.

“Wanna—“ you hiccup, “have a drink with me?”

He shakes his head with amusement, “I think you’ve had plenty, sweetheart. We should get you back to your room.”

Most of your drunk family were getting escorted out by their respective people, being taken up to their hotel room before they can drink themselves any sillier.

This included your brother, Leon, who had his longtime girlfriend pulled into his side, holding her half up and laughing a little at her drunken slur.

He came to a stop when he seen both of you, eyes flitting between your two figures. A small twitch of his brows suggested he wasn’t sure of how he felt about the sight.

“You got her?” He asks, a protective edge to his voice. One that drunken you missed easily as you stayed plastered against him— which is something sober you would not do in general, let alone in front of your brother.

Harry nodded straight away, understanding his defensiveness over you since he feels the same about Gemma. He said softly, “Of course, I’ve got her mate. I’ll take her up to her room.”

Leon glanced at you again. Harry and him met when they were 9, and they’ve been best friends since then. He trusts Harry with his own life, and knows he’d never ever do anything that would hurt you, but his protective side is still flaring up.

Only when his girlfriend, Brie, complains of feeling nauseous he curtly nods, and continues heading for the door.

You are again, oblivious to all this, running your fingers along the tattoos exposed on his forearm— his sleeves rolled up to his elbows— putting his gorgeous skin out on display for you.

“I loveee your arms.” You slur, and his eyes shoot from the door back down to you.

He rarely sees you this drunk, and you’re suddenly very close— making comments that for many reasons are bringing a flush to his face.

“Y/N, Jesus you’re hammered.” He shakes his head, still smiling.

He slowly starts walking, “Cmon, let’s go. Y’brother is expecting me to get you back to your room in one piece.”

“You definitely won’t have a drink with me?” You whine, taking a few steps backwards trying to tug him in the direction of the bar instead of the door.

“Nope. Maybe tomorrow if you can even stomach alcohol.” He pushes the doors from the dimly lit bar open, and leads you into the back of the lobby that it’s connected to.

You squint at the dramatic change in lighting, which is hardly helping your sense of perception, or lack thereof, from the alcohol.

Harry’s hand has taken yours though, leading you to an elevator.

You noticed how warm it was, smooth against yours, aside from the rougher pads of his fingers from the years of playing guitar.

Being so off it, you could not keep that thought to yourself.

“Your hands are so soft, H. Like silk.” You say as you walk into the first elevator to open, squeezing his hand.

“First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered.” He smiles, squeezing back.

“what floor are y’on, by the way? D’ya even remember— or are we a bit too wasted for numbers?” A teasing lilt is in his voice.

You half-laugh half-hiccup, “it’s… 7…?”

“You hardly sound certain about that.” He nudges you with a laugh, “It’s 12, we’re on the same one, remember.”

You laugh much harder than any sober person would, which makes it funnier to him. Since it was a mediocre joke at best.

You’re still laughing as you touch his chest with your palm, “you’re not funny.”

His gaze travels down to it, and he’s shocked at how touchy you are. You never do shit like this when you’re sober. His own amusement quickly takes the back seat, even though you’re still giggling.

However your face falls shortly after, laced with a curious gaze as you slide the neck of his long sleeve to the side, in search for the swallows inked onto his collar bones.

He watches as your eyes wander the small expanse of skin there, and how your fingers brush the tattoos.

“Having fun?” He asks, trying to joke again, but really he’s undeniably a little worked up.

“Yah, heaps.” You snap your gaze back up to him as you enthusiastically nod.

He hates the fact he’s blushing so hard right now over this, since you’re drunk and not completely in control, but he at the end of the day is a man with a very pretty girl— which happened to be you— pulling at his top like she wants it off him.

You hum to yourself, “Have such a pretty neck.” And you trail your hand up it, running a finger over his adams apple.

The elevator door opens like a blessing, and he quickly moves to make distance between the two of you.

“Can you remember your room number, darling? That’s one thing I actually don’t know.” He looks to you as you follow him out with clumsy moments.

“Uh… I dunno— wait I think the keycard is in my purse.”

He laughs at this— wondering if it will come to you in time once you sober up.

“Fuckkk.” You groan. “My purse is in Molly’s big handbag.”

The groan soon turns into a whine, because drunk and being slightly inconvenienced is not a good pair.

“It’s ok!” He amends quickly, trying to keep from having a drunken meltdown on his hands, “We’ll just got back to mine, only if you’re comfortable?”

He quickly prepares for you to not want that, “otherwise— I’ll call her, she didn’t seem too wasted, I’m sure she can—“

He’s interrupted by you, “I don’t mind going back with you.”

You say it with a confused look on you face, a tiny pout on your lips.

“Why would I be uncomfortable going with you?”

“Because… well— I’m not sure. I just wanted to leave you with other options.”

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone together before— you’ve actually spent plenty, but just never with you drunk.

And so touchy.

“No. It’s ok. I love being with you!” You chuckle.

He leads you down the hall, pulling the keycard from his back pocket once he reaches his room, 3313.

The door clicks open, and he holds it open for you, following you in shortly after.

You’re still unstable on your feet, and one look at those heels, he’s surprised you haven’t ended up on the floor in the last ten minutes

They’re practically a health and safety issue. He can not imagine you getting them off right now— which is exactly what you’re about to bend over and attempt.

Before you can throw off your centre of gravity, he quickly says, “Go sit on the bed.”

You glance back over your shoulder, face only lit by the light from the lamp in the corner of the room.

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think, Harry?”

He toes off his own shoes, shaking his head immediately at your drunken misconception of what he asked.

“So I can take your shoes off.”

You make the few steps left to the bed safely, and you sit at the edge of it, still giggling as you say, “just my shoes, huh?”

“Yes.” He walks over, kneeling down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto the strength of his thigh.

He fiddles momentarily with the laced up string, warm hands splayed on your calf, and choosing to ignore the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Christ. This is harder than he thought.

“I forget how hot you are sometimes.” You deadpan, and his jaw goes a little lax.

You’re usually playful, yes, but never do you breach into territory like this.

It was only others, like those at a family gathering, or your close friends, that would push to get stuff like that out of you like they were matchmakers.

There were many times that barbecues or some kind of event held at yours, Leon would invite Harry over. And if the two of you even interacted for just a second, someone in your family circle would tease you. Especially your own damn brother— it was a constant streamline of snarky comments from him.

“You are so drunk.” He mumble while pulling up your other foot.

You ignore his statement, thinking back to when he was a boy to now. He was cute— always was— but the way he looks now is just unmatchable.

“Have you always looked so… like… this?”

He chuckles, almost nervous, “what does question that even mean?”

“So pretty.” You clarify after a moment of trying to find the word.

“Ah, you’re only saying that because you’re plastered up the walls.” He laughs, and a dimple popped on his cheek, and your hand jumped into action before you could even think about it.

“Noooo, sober me thinks that too. She thinks you’re more than pretty.” You say, cupping his jaw, gently tracing the dimple that popped up.

He doesn’t know how to interpret any of this. His heart is jumping in his chest, and he’s trying to reason its genuinely just the alcohol in your system.

He holds eye contact as he slips off your other shoe, placing in neatly next to the other.

He stays there for a moment, unprepared for your next question.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s drunk, she’s drunk, she’s drunk…

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.” He says, and it’s painful— because he wants to, so fucking bad, but you’re not in a state to consent to literally anything at the moment.

And especially not in the mind frame to be making decisions like this.

You lean forward anyway, before he has a chance to avoid it, managing to meet his lips on your own terms.

He caved for a brief flash of time, and allows a second for himself to feel it, no longer than that though. Just a mere moment to take in the warm, soft feeling of your lips on his. It takes so much strength for him to not kiss you back, he has to focus on the task at hand— sobering you up and getting you safely asleep.

He pulls back after that single moment, leaving his forehead against yours, “baby, I know, I really…” he cuts himself off.

A deep inhale and he stands up, “Not tonight. Cmon, let’s get you out of your dress. You can wear something of mine.”

He walks over to his suitcase, anything to remove you from his sight for a moment, to reset his thought process. He pulls out a tshirt and pair of gym shorts, hoping they won’t be too big on you.

Turning back around, he convinces himself he’s fine. Placing the clothes from his bag on the bed beside you, his hands come under your arms, helping you stand up on flat feet for the first time in hours.

You lean into the touch, turning around so he can undo the back of your dress.

The feeling of his fingers brushing your back have you going wild, and the way they gently slide the zipper of your dress down.

His eyes lock with the back of your lacy bralette and he chooses not to follow your skin any further down.

You use your hands to slip the straps off your shoulders— and very quickly the dress is pooling at your feet.

A shaky inhale passes through his nose as now you stand in just your underwear and a seemingly very pretty bralette.

He reaches and picks up his shirt from the foot of the bed.

“Do you want to… take this off before…?” He gestures to your bralette when he catches your eyes.

You nod, reaching behind you to undo the clasp and allowing it to slip from your shoulders to the floor.

Harry puts all his focus on getting the tshirt over your head to cover you up.

Once it’s over your whole frame, you can’t help but smile.

He’s so nervy and cute around you.

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile, suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of adoration for him hit you.

It inflated up in your chest, and bubbled deep into the pit of your stomach.

It killed Harry to watch it happen, and although he had no idea what kind of thoughts were going on in your head, just seeing you light up like that…

You wrapped your arms around his middle again, just like you did when you ran up to him in the bar.

He placed his hands in your hair this time, taking in your scent— which was mixing with his own now that your were in his shirt.

“Love, if you were sober right now. God.” He confesses.

“Im sober enough.” You beg, even though it’s such a lie.

He still shakes his head against you, “‘M not gonna be that guy, Y/N. I have waited years just to have you. I can wait another night. Or week. Or a whole ‘nother year if that’s what it takes.”

This hits you hard.

And it felt like your 15 year old self could hear it up in the confines of your head it rung through you that loudly.

She loved him then, more than she’d ever admit. And sure, you’ve grown up from 15, but yet never once did you grow out of him.

As noted earlier, being drunk and inconvenienced is not a good pair. But being drunk and having someone say or do something sentimental like that is another level.

Tears immediately start to fall from your eyes, and he feels your chest shake at the sudden outburst of emotion.

He pulls back, thinking he’s done something wrong, or said the wrong thing, and an apology was immediately on the tip of his tongue.

But relief thrums through him as you tug him right back into the hug, “that’s— that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“The nicest thing a boys ever told me.”

“Sweetheart.” He coos as you cry, his own voice wobbly with emotion.

He feels like he’s on a roller coaster. 5 minutes ago it seemed all he could think about was the unspeakable things wanted to do to you, and now he just wants to lay you down and hold you until you fall asleep.

He forgets the shorts on the foot of the bed, shuffling the two of you up to where the head of it is— which was still unmade from last night when he’d slept in it.

He tugs you into it, pulling you tightly too his chest as your heads hit the pillows.

And he just hugs you.

Eventually, your crying subsides off, and you enter an indescribably calm state.

“I love you. I don’t even know if you’re going to remember this in the morning.” He sighs, “but fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You whisper, before your eyes begin to fall heavy, and those words were the last to leave your lips before you fell asleep.

———

PART II, found here

a/n pt2:

back again guys, hello!

this is like an extended a/n, but I have a lil update. I saw harry for the very first time live 3 weeks ago. it was so so incredible, and the experience was by far the best time of my life. I miss harry so much i just feel sick ugh. he is perfect. auslot was amazing, he absolutely gave us his all.

that’s why I’ve been so absent on here, literally coping with my pcd a day at a time. I’ve written heaps but nothing I’m 100% happy with haha.

but anyways I just thought I’d share, thank you so much for your continued support and know there is plenty in the works x

all my love, <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #best friend!harry #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #best friends brother #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #drunk! y/n

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

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I’ve been thinking of how would it be to talk to H by mistake like you go on a club and try to get this boy’s phone but he ends up giving you the wrong number and when you message him turns out it’s harry’s phone and you 2 get along so he asks you to meet up😭😭 TRY IT PLSSSS

Why should you never fight a dinosaur?

You wait with bated breath for the response, eyes widening when you see those familiar three bubbles rolling across the screen.

Uh…I don’t know? Why?

You grin. Because you’ll get jurasskicked.

Silence.

Then…the bubbles.

Okay, alright, you got me. That was good.

Pleased, you settle back against your headboard, lip between your teeth. Sorry, I’m sure it’s not very cool to text someone an hour after you leave them in a bar but…hey, you said you liked dad jokes. Figured I’d end your night on a good note.

Exactly three minutes pass before you see him type. Bar?

Yeah. Oh, sorry, this is the girl who wouldn’t stop singing It’s Raining Men and throwing back tequila shots before jumping into your lap.

You hit send, then quickly add in a separate text, Sorry about that, by the way.

Four minutes pass this time, and despite yourself, you feel a bit nervous.

That sounds like a lot of fun, but unfortunately…I don’t think that was me.

You frown. Wait, what? This is Braden, right?

More bubbles. Damn, his name was Braden? Yikes. But no, I can’t claim to be Braden, I’m sorry to say.

Fuck. Your heart drops as you glance around your room. Had he given you the wrong number on purpose? You thought you’d had a connection, and so did your friends as they urged you to ask for his number.

Maybe you’d read the signs wrong?

The bubbles appear again. Have you heard the joke about the butter?

Your head tilts. Uh…no?

Oh, I better not tell you. It might…spread.

You snort, snuggling back down into the covers before pulling the phone closer as you watch another text deliver.

I’m Harry, by the way.

Your fingers dance along the screen, feeling a bit relieved despite the obvious disappointment. Hi, Harry. Sorry about the miscommunication.

Don’t sweat it, Harry types. I love dad jokes.

You smile.

I do not like Braden, though, he adds, and you can’t help but chuckle. Sounds like a dick, to be honest.

You shrug, even though he can’t see you. He wasn’t so bad. It was loud in there anyway. Maybe I just heard him wrong.

A minute passes before the bubbles pop up and your heart leaps.

Why is your heart leaping?

Well, his loss is my gain. You got any more jokes?

I have a joke about pizza! But…it’s too cheesy.

Oh, god. Oh that was…yeah. That was bad. That was really bad. That was not…grate.

“Oh, my god,” you whisper aloud, grinning wildly before typing, Oh, like you can do feta?

He takes a minute to think. I’ll be honest, I’m not very gouda.

You wince, although you can’t deny your amusement. Yeah, this is nacho thing.

But I’m having a hole lot of fun.

You begin to type a response, but he sends another text before you can:

…get it? Cause…hole? Like Swiss?

You laugh again. No, I got it. It was very…sharp.

You hope that made him chuckle.

I like you, Cheese Girl, he says, and your cheeks flush. Hope you don’t feel so bleu.

I’m much cheddar now, you type. Thank you.

A minute passes. No problem. Listen, I gouda go but…this was fun. If you ever think of any more puns…send ‘em my way, yeah?

And despite the fact that Harry is a total stranger to you, and that you’d kind of been expecting to talk to Braden tonight, and really…cheese puns aren’t exactly sexy…

…you feel disappointed to see him go.

You swallow and straighten up, taking a second before replying, Absolutely. I think this is the start of a brie-utiful friendship.

He responds with a laughing emoji, followed by, Goodnight, Cheese Girl.

You smile.

Goodnight, Harry.

It’s not exactly on par with the request, but this was honestly so much fun that I was kind of thinking I’d make it a couple of parts 😭 Thank you so much to whoever asked!!!💞 I hope it’s okay!

~ iFall for Harry pt. 2 (the second part to this!)

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Full Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

#harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles request #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #blurb #request #ifall for harry #harry and cheese girl

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nuriaverde · 6 months

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La creatividad según Don Draper en "Mad Men"

Lucía Blázquez, mi compañera en el programa de RTVE en el que trabajo, “Objetivo Igualdad”, lo podéis ver en RTVE Play, y yo estamos leyendo a la vez el libro “Libera tu magia” de Elizabeth Gilbert acerca de la creatividad. Luego lo comentamos. El otro día, en la comida de despedida de Andrés por su jubilación, al comentario de una compañera de que va a haber más escritores que lectores con un…

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call-me-strega · 3 months

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Potential Contestants for the Inter-Dimensional Bake-Off

My inter-dimensional bake-off prompt has got a lot of attention so here is a rough draft list of people I thought might be good (or funny) choices as potential contestants for the bake-off:

Alfred Pennyworth (DC Comics)

Lunch Lady (Danny Phantom)

Mr + Mrs Cake (My Little Pony)

Gary Prince (Fiona and Cake/Adventure Time)

Dylan B. Hollis (real life-YouTube/TikTok)

Brock and/or Cilan and/or Mallow (Pokémon anime)

Molly Weasley (Harry Potter)

Ice Bear (We Bare Bears)

Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng (Miraculous Ladybug)

Sanji (One Piece)

Brie Malik and/or Heath Nguyen (Gormet Hound webcomic)

Tiana (The Princess and the Frog)

Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)

This is in no way a final list. I also don’t know how many people I would or would not be including if I wrote this, but they are all of the people I have been able to think of so far that are good at baking. If anyone has any suggestions please let me know.

#dc x dp #alfred pennyworth #danny phantom #interdimensional bake-off #to celebrate Danny’s coronation #ghost king danny #alfred is a good baker #crossover #who should be included?#fictional bakers #or reals ones but they gotta be talented and/or funny #taking suggestions

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