and writing a ff

feel a little rush (I think I’ve got a crush) [1/2]

I made this ridiculous post a while ago and somehow ended up being the one to write it. so. it’s been a while since I’ve written and I can only thank @high-seas-swan​ for her cheerleading and her brilliant beta skills that saved this from not making any sense.

anyway, au where high school lit teacher killian jones ends up on the hotdudesreading instagram page and is very, very confused by it all.

ao3 | ffn

The giggling isn’t new, but he will say he hasn’t heard it in a while. On this Monday morning, however, the soft echoes of laughter follow him from the parking lot and through the corridors.

He’s being paranoid, he thinks. Until he turns around just before he reaches his classroom and watches a group of girls disperse, eyes shifting down quickly to their phones, their mouths quivering with restraint.

Killian knows restraint, and he definitely knows when something feels off.

Still, he’s a professional. So he straightens his back and puts as much bounce in his step as one might need to convince seventeen year olds that Shakespeare is fun. It works, most days. 

But today–

His first class is uncharacteristically quiet, most of them fidgeting, thinking twice before raising hands to ask questions. His second is filled with students who can barely get through reading the first scene of the second act of Othello without laughing. (Which, with all the deceit and plotting, Killian should think to be problematic.)

And, well. Killian can tell today isn’t going to be like most days.

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“Swan, this is a such a strange custom.”

She looks up from the present they are in the middle of wrapping. “What?”

“The wrapping paper is simply thrown away. Why take the time to do it?”

“There’s no mystery without the paper! How fun is that? Plus, it’s tradition! Now keep holding that edge.”

He just laughs. “Whatever you say, Swan.”

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Operation Secret Santa

Killian gets Emma for their Secret Santa, the only trouble is, he’s never met her before.

Before you start wondering if you have deja vu, yes, this is the same prompt as yesterday. My brain saw two different paths the story could take and I wanted to write both #SorryNotSorry.

Yesterday I credited @xemmaloveskillianx with inspiring the original idea with her story Secret Santa. Today I’ve got to show some love to some banter-loving ladies who inspired me to up my banter game with this one shot. I don’t do it as well as any of them, but I try:

@welllpthisishappening for To Make The Season Bright

@blessed-but-distressed for The Morning After The Night Before

@lovethatshit for All I Want For Christmas Is…

AO3

Day 1 |  Day 2 |  Day 3 |  Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9  | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12


Operation Secret Santa


Emma Swan.

Killian read the words and groaned. He had obviously made the naughty list this year. He had definitely, quite specifically told Santa that for Christmas he wanted anything but being Emma Swan’s Secret Santa.

He knew he should’ve put in a written request instead of just sending his wishes out into the universe. A letter to the North Pole probably would’ve been more effective. (Although who was to say he wouldn’t still have ended up with the Secret Santa equivalent of coal in his stocking?)

He had nothing against her - but, as of yet, he hadn’t met her, which made buying any kind of decent gift for her somewhat problematic.

And her “wish list” consisted of just one word: chocolate? If worse came to worst he guessed he could always just buy 25 bucks worth of Christmas chocolate and hope for the best, but she didn’t seem all that certain that she even wanted it, so it felt like a risky move.

There was only one thing for it: Killian was just going to have to befriend the elusive Emma Swan.

Drinks Friday @ Aesop’s Tables? He messaged their group chat. He could do this. He could get to know Emma. He could discover what her heart desired and give it to her (as long as it cost $25 or less).

Operation Secret Santa was on.

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Until That Day:  Chapter 3

This is a belated birthday present for my amazing adopted little sister @ninzied. I hope you like it, Nina!  

You can read it here or on ff.net. Have a lovely day, everyone!



April 18

Tomorrow we shall marry.

When I gave birth to Henry, I gave up all hope of one day becoming a proper wife. But worse than that, I believed that my actions had robbed my son of the opportunity of ever having a good father, one who would love and accept him as his own and care for him the way he deserves.

Then you came into our lives, and everything changed.

You make it very evident that neither the fact that Henry was conceived out of wedlock nor that he is not yours by blood mattes one whit, and that means more to me than anything I could ever wish for myself. He adores you–wants to be more like you, has even asked me if he can start calling you Papa immediately after the wedding.

You have no idea what that means to me.

Well, perhaps you do, for you have told me repeatedly how you feared that no woman would accept and raise Liza as her own because of the circumstances of her birth. Yet loving that little girl requires no effort at all, and when she reaches those pudgy arms of hers out to me and snuggles into my chest, I forget that I didn’t give birth to her. Parenting is a choice, and becoming a mother to your two precious children is an honor I do not take lightly.

From this time tomorrow, they shall be mine just as assuredly as Henry is.

Can I tell you again how strange yet wonderful it is to know that you do not view me as a fallen woman worthy of censure but rather as a woman with whom you have chosen to spend your life and to mother your children? That when you caress my cheek or kiss my lips, all of the shame of my past seems to melt into a puddle at my feet?  That strolling through town on your arm makes me feel as though I’ve just emerged from a cocoon of censure and am allowed to spread my wings for the first time in my life?  

I am so giddy with happiness I fear I may not sleep tonight.

It’s difficult for me to believe this is truly happening, that tomorrow night I shall be sleeping in your bed rather than here in Widow Lucas’s guest room, that your body will provide me with a warmth far more intimate than that any quilt can provide. Of course, after the way you kissed me earlier this evening, I have to wonder just how much sleep I shall actually be granted on our wedding night.

I somehow think the answer to that is very little.

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the signs as abandoned places

ARIES Abandoned gas stations, beholders of tumbleweeds and roadside tales, filled with dead fuel yet frozen in time, eyes on the passengers with their hands and hair out the window, haunted by old desert songs and engines revving behind it.

TAURUS: Abandoned bars, stools turned over, a ripped flyer shouting BABES BABES BABES hanging off the bulletin board, a lost motorcycle tire, glass shattered, and the spirit of hell still living somewhere inside.

GEMINI Ghost towns, at the base of old mountains, houses with shutters like eyes and doors like mouths, swallowing stories whole, convenience stores still stocked with stale bread, cabins and headstones still peeking out from behind fairy wood brambles, nature stretching into steel, ready to come alive with a shift of the wind.

CANCER: Abandoned motels, empty pools filled with deflated flamingos, the sign out front screaming VACANCY forever, each room a different anthology of guest book tales, smashed television monitors and a love note ( or goodbye note ) caught up in the rust of the honeymoon suite.

LEO: Abandoned theaters, stages dented with the ghosts of performances past, torn scripts scattered across floorboards in a mess of Playbills and shattered eyeglasses, broken lights and tattered dress hems, mannequins poised at an eternal act one.

VIRGO Abandoned train stations, cars sprayed in a kaleidoscope of graffiti, drifters still starting fires in some of the shells, grass growing over old gears, ghost conductors with no destination, rails intersecting at odd angles like flowers and bones.

LIBRA Abandoned campgrounds, rattlesnakes and desert blues, dead hot and forgotten, a shelled-out RV and the dry lake where the kids used to play, swallowing up broken toys and flat tents, showers crawling with critters, vintage t-shirts printed with campground bears promising that it’s still “the happiest place on earth.”

SCORPIO Abandoned amusement parks, soggy coaster cars paused mid-ascension, cheap thrills and screams still stagnant in the air, ferris wheels trembling in the wind, clown faces distorted and torn down the middle, a mascot head smiling out from the overgrowth.

SAGITTARIUS Abandoned renaissance fairs, an acre out of time, fake pirate ships swinging, fairy wings trying to fly, dead flower crowns tangled with bright ribbons and peasant blouses shed by the lake, empty squares and old stage buildings, Arthur’s sword caught at the entry, still waiting to be pulled.

CAPRICORN Abandoned toy stores, broken pinball machines, ghost clowns, and popped balloons, playing cards stuck to the floor, a crooked house of childhood horrors, teddy bears bleeding stuffing, and a funhouse mirror distorting the distorted. 

AQUARIUS: Abandoned piers, driftwood split down the middle, coastline the last alive thing, neon lights still calling Gatsby home from the horizon, but promising only the ghosts of mermaids washed ashore, tires and bottles filled with sand, dead trees spouting from old rocks, branches a wind chime of ripped dresses, forks, and seashells on strings.

PISCES: Abandoned waterparks, slides overlooking entire old cities, perfect for climbing, hoses and pools now scrawled over and used as skateboard ramps, kids climbing over the old towers and ladders in their bathing suits when it rains, pure want as their tickets in, yelling, “We’re still here, we’re still here, we’re still here!”

shipmastet  asked:

We saw a post of kamanari and deku get jealous when there boyfriends hang out. What would happen if they hang out on PURPOSE with a little flirting. How would kirishima and bakugou react?

terrible just terrible 

“Ah, sorry, I’m not much of a dancer.” Prompto mumbled to his feet after he once again stepped on the prince of Lucis’ toes. 
“Could have fooled me,” Noctis smiled warmly, pulling Prompto closer, “Do they not have balls in Niflheim?” 
Prompto paused, his face falling slightly as he lowered his gaze to the floor “Well…ah, no. Not really.” 

Insomnia welcomes Niflheim into their kingdom will a ball, and although Noctis usually hates any kind of social event, surprisingly this one has become a little more interesting. Another scene I had in mind for my Niflheim prince Prompto AU. I’m planning on drawing a few more things because I’ve received so much encouragement, I hope y’all like angst, cause thats where this AU is headed. 

3

Story-time with Sora and Noctis takes a weird turn. Noct may have competition for the title of Crown Prince of Napping!

Bonus time-jump panel in which Noctis takes his rightful place as the Naptime King:

since uglies in 2017 still say girlgroups only do cute concepts, let me remind you that we’re in the middle of the year and we already had all of this: 

  • aoa - bing bing we started 2017 way up high girlies! magic assistants!
  • aoa - excuse me chorus? catchy. key point of dance? catchy. quality. this song should have blown up. sherlock homes who?
  • dreamcatcher - chase me A DEBUT. who tf cares abt pokemon go? i only catch and chase after this amazing horror concept
  • clc - hobgoblin hi! basically they girl crushed all nasty opinions on girlgroups, so bye!
  • luna, hani, solar - honey bee yeah ik not a group but a gay trinity that proclaimed bowling so no straight person can play it
  • gugudan - a girl like me BEAT IS SICK. plus literally teaching you not to waste your precious time with boys, if he doesn’t have attitude just dump him
  • gfriend - fingertip our galaxy is safe. gay friend squad is defending it
  • brave girls - rollin’ like dj khaled said another one. another bop done wrong and ignored by society. in the mv they danced over a kinda of wet floor and also oN CHAIRS wth i can’t even walk properly
  • pristin - wee woo not an ambulance siren ok. each girl had their own little vibe added separately to the mv. at the end they do together some witchcraft shit. tell me abt concept bitch we have multi!
  • girl’s day - i’ll be yours queens of your local boxing ring. they can and they will knock you out while in high heels. Vocals
  • exid - night rather than day NATBODANEUN. BAME. WA. a subway ride never felt more inviting. timeless fresh bop with JAZZ ELEMENTS BUT SO POP!!! WHAT ELSE WOULD YOU NEED??? TF
  • wassup - color tv i wish i had partied with them. you feel like dancing even you’re tired. a Mood elevator
  • 9muses - remember got a life is strange feel and nerds will maybe agree with me. HAS A KILLER RAP PART. mourn over a man i just murdered? no thank! a warm bath is better
  • blackpink - as if it’s your last L O V E. you just don’t classify art. this could really be the last song i heard in my life and i’d die happily. 
  • mamamoo - yes i am YES YOU ARE AND WHATEVER YOU ARE IS FUCKIN GOOD. such an important female empowering anthem for kpop!!!! please listen to your fellow girls words, which are filled with actual honest lyrics.
  • stellar - archangels of the sephiroth worth of being in some movie soundtrack. the instrumental is out of this world. angels themselves produced this like wow???
  • red velvet - red flavor mmm i bet that’s how summer would taste if it was a drink. REFRESHING. colorful, fun and supports health care. just eat fruits and dance

just a psa: is there something wrong with cute concept? of course fuckin not. there is something very wrong, though, on using it as an excuse to justify your hate towards girlgroups and also limiting them inside a box. they are just as powerful and talented and hardworking as your male idols, they’re gonna do bunches of concepts: cute, sexy, innovative, whatever there is to do, but you can bet your ass they will execute all with excellence. so jot that down, do me and yourself a favour: STAN AND RESPECT GIRLGROUPS. (:

Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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mythical ask meme
  • fairy wings: what do you believe in?
  • centaur hooves: choose a place to run away to.
  • siren call: what song makes you feel soft?
  • mermaid scales: freshwater pond or saltwater sea?
  • dragon breath: princess, witch, or rogue?
  • werewolf howl: what do you do under a full moon?
  • pegasus mane: how do you take care of yourself?
  • unicorn horn: what do you wear to feel brave?
  • pixie dust: what colors do you dream in?
Spoiled

REQUEST: A one shot where it’s your birthday and Harry wakes you up for breakfast in bed and spoils the hell out of you with loads of gifts and kisses and cuddles?

REQUEST: Can you do a fluffy fluff blurb or one-shot with Harry?

REQUEST: Can I pretty please request a fluffy Harry one shot? Love you Yeli

REQUEST: A fluffy blurb or something because I am craving your writings


Mushed all these together. Love you all! xx



You woke up to the feeling of Harry’s nose nuzzling into your cheek, humming a particular tune while his arms wound around your waist.

The two of you had been dating for a couple of years now, long enough that you spent at least fifty percent of the time at Harry’s place. And if you’d learned one thing about Harry, it was that he absolutely loved birthdays. He loved celebrating them, counting down to them, and he enjoyed other people’s more than he did his own. 

So when your birthday rolled around, you weren’t surprised that he was waking you up at the crack of dawn (or eleven a.m., if we’re being realistic).

Despite your best efforts to not smile you found yourself crinkling your nose, corners of your lips tilting upwards as you squirmed in his embrace. Now that you had given away that you were awake you turned your body so that your back was facing him, reaching to grab his pillow from across the bed and hug it to your chest with a soft grunt.

“Hey, m’right here, I’m more comfy than the pillow,” he complained, his fingertips digging into the soft pudginess of your belly. You squirmed once more, eyes still closed.

“Pillow doesn’t wake me up,” you teased, worming closer against the soft fabric. Harry audibly sighed, his voice at your ear.

“Alright, I’ll just put away all these presents, then…” Harry replied a bit melodramatically, starting to unravel his arms from around your body.

You suddenly opened one eye and turned your head to look back at him, your hands immediately trapping his against your belly so that he couldn’t escape.

“Presents?” You repeated, both eyes now wide open. You were like a little kid at Christmas.

“Tha’s what I said, innit?” he snickers, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your lips. You puckered them to press a kiss against it, grinning. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before hopping off of you.

When you shifted around to sit up properly on the bed, he was holding a tray of what breakfast foods accompanied by a glass of apple juice. There was also a cup of water that held a single yellow rose in it, causing an elated grin to appear on your features.

“First thing’s first,” he said, setting the tray in your lap and reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Happy birthday, princess.”

“Thank you,” you grinned, feeling like the luckiest girl alive.

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parkjiminbiased  asked:

hey so i know you do head canons and i was wondering if you'd write an andreil one about them adopting a kid thanks

i have this issue where i start headcanons and they end up being fics so enjoy

  • Okay so Neil and Andrew are on the same professional Exy team
  • They live in like the small urban part of Missouri or something, and they have a lot of free time because it’s the off season
  • So Andrew goes to the library every afternoon like clockwork
    • He’s studying up on law and entertaining the idea of going to law school after they retire 
    • Neil tags along sometimes and loves browsing the crime/mystery section
  • The library workers recognize them as the famous exy-playing assholes, but they’re all older women who have nothing better to do than gossip behind the desk
  • Mary, the senior librarian, runs the children’s programs during the summer and makes sure to invite all the kids from the nearby elementary school
  • It’s raining pretty hard outside when Neil and Andrew stumble in one afternoon during Mary’s dramatic reading of The Fox and the Hound
  • Andrew saunters off upstairs while Neil heads to the bathroom so he can wring out their wet raincoats 
    • (Nicky got them matching raincoats for Christmas that year, insisting that he needed to “keep up the theme”)
    • (Andrew refuses to wear the matching red rain boots)
  • Neil hears muffled crying from one of the stalls, interrupted every now and then by a small hiccup
  • He knocks hesitantly on the stall door
  • “I’m in here!” the kid shouts
  • “Everything okay?”
  • “Uh.. yeah,” he sniffles, “I think”

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In which I headcanon that “bracing shower” is a euphemism for touching yourself.  Rated E.  Spoilers for 6x18.


Killian stomped up the stairs, a pleasant tingle in his fingers and toes that made him feel heavy and tingly.

“Tingly,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head, and his hand for good measure.  He grabbed a hold of the railing when he nearly slipped on the landing, socks sliding on the slick wooden floors.

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FFXV x KH Headcanons That I Have But Probably Won’t Doodle Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

  • Sora is something else when he’s behind the wheel of a car because he is either at one end of the emotional extreme or the other.
    • He is the kind of driver who makes sure to thank other drivers on the road for their consideration. If someone lets him switch lanes and get in front of them, he sticks his hand up and waves to them. He also mutters, “Thank you,” even though there’s absolutely no way for the other driver to hear or even see his lips forming the words aw hon
    • He is also the kind of driver who shows off a very… colorful… vocabulary when he’s dealing with bad drivers. He never drives aggressively– especially not behind the wheel of someone else’s car! But he swears up a storm that even makes Gladio a little uncomfortable. (Don’t tell them to put a rusty tire iron there, Sora…)
    • While we’re on the subject of Sora in the car, he sits between Noct and Gladio in the backseat
  • With Sora in the party, Ignis now has TWO stubborn and sleepy boys to drag out of bed each morning
  • Sora’s Keyblade ex Machina becomes a Thing
    • No more having to worry about accidentally locking the keys in the car because there’s a boy in the party with the universe’s biggest and dumbest-looking master key
    • Noctis politely accepting the dungeon key from Ezma even though there is absolutely no need for it with Sora “Yes-by-it-works-on-any-lock-I-MEAN-it-works-on-any-lock.”
      • Yes this results in the boys facing off against a monster they are nowhere near equipped to handle
      • Yes Gladio has to drag Sora’s and Prompto’s unconscious bodies all the way back up to the dungeon’s entrance
        • Yes they go back for revenge once they’ve collectively toughened up
    • Imagine Sora getting captured by Niffs only to create increasing frustration in their ranks because they literally cannot keep this kid locked in a room
  • Sora looks forward to getting to meet Lunafreya! :D
    • Noctis gets frustrated that he can’t talk to Luna more often. Sora suggests he write her a message, stick it in a bottle, and cast it out to sea.
      • He’s only half joking
    • Sora getting! So excited! When Noct assures him that of course he can come to the wedding! Sora’s never been to a wedding before! :D :D :D
      • As their friendship grows stronger, Noct decides to make Sora one of his groomsmen!!!!!
        • Imagine the bachelor party omfg
      • Real talk: SORA WOULD CRY AT A WEDDING. HE LOVES TO SEE PEOPLE HAPPY AND IN LOVE!!!!!
  • The chocobros fearing Sora’s power more than ever when they realize that his hair naturally stands up like that. No hair gel necessary. His hair is just Too Powerful
    • Prompto is so jealous
  • Sora sometimes gets really quiet when they’re on the beach at Galdin Quay or Cape Caeum. He sort of spaces out. Just stares out at the horizon with the waves lapping up around his ankles.

Angst under the cut. :O

The Return of the Angst Corner:

  • In the first year of the long night, Sora tries a number of methods to get in touch with his friends
    • He tries to summon old friends and encourage them to let Donald, Goofy, etc. know that he’s okay– just stranded in Eos. Genie, Mushu, Peter Pan, all of them. The only way they’ll be able to send the message is if they visit their home worlds, though– not a very good chance of that happening. Still, it’s worth a shot.
    • He sends a message in a bottle every time he’s near the ocean. He is nearly killed in the waters of Galdin Quay by a Ronin during one of these attempts. He’d been too caught up in making sure the waves carried off the bottle. Careless.
    • Eventually… he gives up.
  • It’s worth noting that even when things are at their bleakest, Sora doesn’t lose his kindness or optimism. He is gentle and patient with wary survivors and is usually the one who convinces people hesitant to leave their homes behind to seek refuge in Lestallum.
    • It’s easy to forget how horrible things are when you’re sitting by the fire with Sora, whose smiles and laughter are infectious. He’s such a good storyteller– great at getting your mind off of the actual apocalypse happening in the world beyond
      • This boy is Great With Kids
    • He knows Noctis will come back, and they’ll bring back the light
      • It’s only a matter of time
  • Sora takes shifts with other hunters to stand watch at the city limits of Lestallum
    • Whenever a daemon gets too close, he is usually the first to reach them– he launches himself off, sometimes boosted by magic, and usually takes it down before it sees him coming
  • Sora isn’t quite sure of the exact moment he was infected with the Starscourge
    • But if he had to guess
      • While on a supply run with Prompto, he is ambushed by a gargoyle that manages to latch onto his left arm… with its teeth
        • Prompto’s killed the thing before Sora has a chance to scream– puts a bullet in its head.
          • Its head explodes. Sora’s covered in its blood– it’s on his face, in his hair, in his mouth… and it’s all over his left arm, too
            • Sora remembers reading up on the Starscourge a little bit after hearing Luna talking about it on the radio once… something about “photophilic organisms” infecting a host and leeching off of them like a parasite until
              • Until…
        • It really could have been something else. Maybe the world’s darkness was just finally getting to Sora. Maybe Ardyn did something to him. Or maybe he was infected by daemon’s blood in an open wound.
          • Don’t tell Prompto.
  • Sora keeps it a secret at first. The thin black tendrils curling beneath the skin of the underside of his left forearm are easy enough to hide with sleeves.
    • It takes a couple of weeks before it starts to hurt
      • It’s a throbbing, pulsating pain. It matches his heartbeat a little too well.
    • The marks spread quickly. More quickly than Sora remembers reading it did. Why is it spreading so damned fast?!
    • Sora is doing inventory in the stockroom with Nayvth when he experiences an intense palpitation that takes his breath away. He gets so dizzy that he slips off of a ladder while counting the ethers
      • He’s too woozy to stop a couple of well-meaning bystanders from carrying him to the infirmary– the town had fashioned the restaurant by the kebab stand into one during the long night
        • He’s able to pull himself together enough to fight off the nurse who tries to examine him. He’s fine. Just tired. Just hungry.
          • He lies to the nurse, but he decides he can’t lie to his friends. He decides this after checking in the mirror to find that the infection has spread up his arm, across his shoulder, towards his heart.
            • Prompto sobs
  • Once everyone knows, they are determined to find a cure
    • Ignis, having had nine years to grow accustomed to his blindness, being met with frustration he hasn’t felt in years when he realizes that most of the relevant books in Lestallum’s local library are not in braille
      • Prompto staying up late with Ignis, reading passages to him about the Starscourge, the Oracles’ effort through generations to contain it, and beyond
  • The infection spreads to Sora’s neck, and now he’s stuck wearing turtlenecks and carefully-pinned scarves to hide it. 
    • He is absolutely not a turtleneck guy. It’s so constricting and uncomfortable at first! He can’t stand it.
  • The Scourge spreads to his face
  • It spreads to his left eye
      • The people of Lestallum don’t need to worry about isolating Sora. He isolates himself.
        • People who’d once heralded Sora a hero, cooked him meals, played checkers with him– they’re too afraid to come close
          • Sora gets it. He really does. Nothing is known about the disease. How infectious is it? Is it transmittable in the air? Will they get the Scourge too if Sora sneezes too close to them?
            • Sora doesn’t know. But he wears gloves when he’s around Ignis, Gladio, Prompto, and the handful of others who refuse to let his condition stop them from being at his side
  • It takes a while before the disease begins to affect his mind
    • Lapses in his memory. He’d come back to his senses and have no idea how he got to wherever he is
    • He gets irritable. Very.
      • He lashes out at the slightest provocation. With Gladio especially
    • He gets downright scary in battle at times.
      • He keeps hacking away at a Salpinx’s body even though it’s already dead. He’ll never forget the look on Prompto’s face when he finally regains himself
        • He has a violent coughing fit one night. He pulls his hand away, and there’s black ooze in his palm
        • It’s cold
        • “P-Prompto…?”
  • He still accepts hunts and stands watch and takes care of daemons that get too close to the city
    • He takes on the biggest fucking Snaga he’s ever seen in his life and is overwhelmed
      • It kicks his ass 
      • He would have for sure died if not for Ardyn
      • His brain screams at him to stay awake, to get up, to finally get back at this piece of shit for everything he’s done to Noctis, to Prompto, to all of his friends– but he’s in too much pain and he’s short of breath and his heart is fluttering and stuttering and everything hurts. He passes out.
    • He wakes up at camp with Ardyn. Ardyn’s cooking something for them to eat.
      • Ardyn tells him about his past life– how he’d not only been a Lucian king, but also a healer. He can’t cure the Starscourge. Those powers were lost to him long ago. But he can treat it.
        • Sora has no way of knowing if this is true or not.
          • But based on what Ardyn said, it sounds like Ardyn treated the Scourge by drawing it out of the host– and absorbing it himself
            • Does that mean healing Sora will make Ardyn stronger?
              • No way he can risk that. This freak is powerful enough already. He’d rather die than make it harder for his friends to save the world.
                • Ardyn doesn’t give him a choice
  • After Ardyn draws out most of the Scourge, he’s gone
    • Sora finds a map that helps him get back to Lestallum. It’s not far.
    • He does feel a lot better. He didn’t realize what an effort breathing had been for him lately until now– it’s so much easier. The air tastes so much cleaner.
  • He doesn’t know how much time he has left, now that Ardyn’s interfered with the hands of the clock. He just has to hope that Noctis gets back soon. Because he wants to be there when they finally take Ardyn down.
Day 2 - Purring

Something was rumbling in her ear. 

Marinette woke slowly, the soft rumble reeling her out of a pleasant dream and the unmistakable vibration of her pillow steadily grounding her in reality. But even when she blinked open her eyes it still took a moment to place the sound. At first she thought it was her phone. 

But then she remembered what had been happening before she fell asleep.

Root beer floats on the balcony. Video games until well past two in the morning. Giggling at a comic book on her bed until no, that was definitely the last thing she remembered. As if in response to this, she became aware of a glossy page plastered to her cheek. Sitting up, she peeled the comic book off and tossed it aside, afraid to look behind her at the other side of her bed. Because if he’d simply left, then what was that suspiciously purr-like sound? Man, they’d fallen asleep on accident again, hadn’t they?

In the darkness Marinette peeked over her shoulder at him, then immediately sqeaked in terror when she saw his bare arm and wrenched her pillow up to press it over her eyes. 

He isn’t transformed. Oh my god, he detransformed in his sleep! 

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Bristle

Prompt: 2) Hinny dueling, set anytime post-battle. Cocky harpy vs. wipe-the-floor-with-you Auror? First summer trauma coping? The angst/fluff potential is endless

A/N: so this is a combo of the prompt ^ from @julxr4 and inspiration from @blvnk-art‘s grown up hinny fan art, particularly this comic.

Also available on FF and Ao3!


Harry’s pretty capable, as far as new fathers go.  No major injuries or illnesses to report, and he thinks James seems pretty happy, all things considered.  So when Ginny goes to spring training for almost a month, he does alright.  Aside from missing Ginny like – something he would miss a lot.  Sleep deprivation is not particularly conducive to similes.  Or grooming.  Between a full workload with the Auror Office and handling James on his own every night, certain things get shunted to the side.  And it’s a pretty easy choice if he’s deciding between shaving and taking a kip for a quarter of an hour.

Which is why Ginny comes home to her husband lying spread eagle on the floor with the tiniest Potter splayed across his chest, playing with his newly grown beard.  “Alright Potters?”

James claps his chubby hands and topples back against Harry’s now raised thighs in excitement.

Quickly, Harry catches James around his middle and soon enough has his entire family wrapped in his arms.  Ginny’s warm and firm under his hands, freckles and just a touch of sunburn across her shoulders, her chocolate eyes sparkling in that way that lets him know he’s not the only one who’s been lonely.

James pitches toward Ginny, his kiss overly wet and gummy, while Harry nuzzles her damp hair.  “We missed you.”

Ginny takes James into her arms, showering him with kisses before using her free hand to scratch at Harry’s beard.  “This is new.”

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It’s been years, and so much has happened between then and now but Emma still remembers it so vividly in her mind – the last time she’d seen Killian cry. They had been standing in the deepest part of the Underworld then, in a cavern full of shadows and pale red light and shattered hope. Their last-ditch effort to save him had failed; the tree that bore ambrosia had been cut, and any chance that Killian had had of leaving with her had disintegrated into dust, just like the dried, dead food of the Gods she had held in the palm of her hand.

The only thing they could do, was say goodbye, and ask one last promise of each other: to let the other go and move on. She can still recall those very last moments – his whispered ‘I love you’ and her answering ‘I love you, too’ followed by the fierce press of his mouth against hers.

The way his hand had tangled in her hair a final time as he’d held her close.

The desperate grasping of his fingers before he’d slipped out of reach and grief had pooled heavily in the pit of her stomach.

The lone tear she’d watched trail down his cheek while the elevator had taken her up and away forever.

It was an image that haunted her from the moment he disappeared from sight, that made her heart ache until he was back in her arms, by the grace of Zeus, with his laughter echoing in her ears as she’d clung to him in frenzied relief and had attempted to pepper every inch of his face with kisses. She hadn’t realized it was something that had stayed with her until she had this image in front of her to replace it with – a mile-wide grin splitting his face as he sits on the edge of the side of the hospital bed, facing her, his eyes full of awe and so much love as he stares at a tiny, dark-haired baby tucked safely in the crook of his elbow, with twin tracks of moisture on his face.

Words could never adequately describe her exhaustion after labor, but it all melts away when he lifts his head to look at her, stealing her breath because – oh – he’s never quite looked at her that way before. She’s helpless to the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips, helpless to reach out and gently brush his tears away with the tips of her fingers. She cups his cheek and he turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of her palm, then she reaches down to close her hand around the charms on the end of his necklace. It takes nothing more than a light tug to make him lean forward and meet her halfway, his mouth closing over hers in a hard kiss. Emma giggles when he doesn’t pull away immediately, lips pecking at hers over and over and over.

“I love you, Emma,” he tells her quietly, resting his forehead against hers, and it feels like a promise as endless as time.

“I love you, too,” she replies, a contented sigh slipping past her lips. “So much.” And yeah, this is definitely a much better memory to hold in her heart forever.

Fin

luna/ginny post-war headcanon
  • luna and ginny start dating a few years after the battle of hogwarts
  • the sparkle happens in angelina’s and george’s wedding, where ginny has to blink a few times because luna looks absolutely stunning, in a shiny, see-through silver dress with her hair tied up in two braids
  • they talk about luna’s magical creatures studies and the months she spent in south america, and ginny tells her all about her quidditch ambitions (and her amicable break up with harry)
  • they kiss at the end of the night, with luna’s cheeks warm with firewhiskey and ginny completely drunk on her beauty
  • they go on a few dates after that, until it’s luna the one who asks “but we’re girlfriends, right?”
  • ginny becomes chaser of the holyhead harpies shortly after, and luna automatically becomes their number one fan
  • she never misses a match, and always runs to hug and kiss ginny right after it, even if she protects because she looks disgusting and sweaty, pretty much to the grins of all of ginny’s teammates
  • “love, you know i can’t wear the necklace during a match”
    “but it’s not a necklace it’s a charm for keeping away the nargles”
  • (luna ends up wearing two of them just in case, because there’s not such thing as too much protection from the nargles)
  • luna sometimes travels a lot, to america, sweden or even bulgaria to work with charlie and his dragons, but always comes back with kisses and stories and souvenirs (and only like a scratched knee or two, or a nasty scar under an eye)
  • their third anniversary is spent at the quidditch’s world cup, where ginny is playing the final along the england national team
  • (they win, of course, but the celebration ends up to be a private one as they sneak away while snogging)
  • they move in together to a little cottage in the south-east of england they have both fell in love with, it has enough space for ginny to fly and practice, and it reminds luna of home
  • luna paints the entire house in light blue and yellow, casts spells of protection and hangs flowers off the ceiling; and ginny just let’s her do whatever she wants because there’s nothing more beautiful to her than luna doing something she loves and enjoys (even with smears of paint all over her nose)
  • the weasleys love luna to pieces, and there is always a sweater with an ‘L’ on it for her every single christmas at the burrow
  • and luna’s father absolutely adores ginny and their conversations about how maybe this is year when the chudley cannons win something
  • they get married in ireland, the day of their seventh anniversary, in a very private and small ceremony near a lake, surrounded by nature
  • xenophilius lovegood spends the entire wedding sobbing, but not as loudly as seamus finnigan does
  • they plan their honeymoon in japan, where luna falls in love with a shiba inu puppy
  • they take her home, calling her nargle

for @thunderbjrd who won personal favourite at faye and i tumblr’s awards

the quality of mercy (1/1)

Summary: In which Killian confesses to David and Emma. Spoilers for 6x12.

Rated: T

Warnings: None

Words: ~4.3k

Notes: I had a lot of feelings about the end of 6x12.  Title from The Quality of Mercy by William Shakespeare.  Much love and gratitude to my instrumental wife @ripplestitchskein for reading this through for me.

Also on ff and ao3


The worst of it, Killian thinks, is that for a moment, he doesn’t recall the man’s face.

He was nothing but a liability, standing between his crew and enough riches to carry him from one day to the next, bleeding out a living until he could sink his hook into the crocodile’s neck. And he doesn’t recognize David’s father at first, because he’d been merely one in the stream, one of the nameless voices that whispers to him late at night, or early in the morning, growing louder and louder, until he’s forced out of bed – and out of the endearingly tight circle of Emma’s arms – to wander along the line where the town meets the sea.

Only now, this one has a name, and the longer and harder he peers down at the drawing, the more familiar he seems. Not only from a hazy memory, but from the set of his brow, the swell of his cheeks, features he sees in the man he now calls his friend, and in the woman he longs to call his wife. And here, in the midnight shadows of the home he shares with her, he holds tight to the incriminating pages, a wisp of the darkness still stirring in his heart suggesting he surrender them to the sea.

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