because i still sit here after all that time AND I'M ASTOUNDED

anonymous asked:

You accidentally chained your bike to mine and I can’t leave until you get back au percabeth please

A/N: Sorry that it’s so short, but hope you enjoy! This is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine! Title Credits to Passenger.

This is celebrating 800 followers on this blog (even though we’re three short, I’m celebrating preemptively). You guys are incredible :)


Annabeth swears that when she finds the moron that did this, she’s going to punch him in the face. It’s probably the best scenario for him if she’s being honest, considering she’s already cursed his firstborn child to twenty-five years of bad luck and imagined about thirty different ways to murder him. She even knows where she’d hide the body.

(There’s a river nearby and she’d be lying if the thought didn’t cross her mind…)

Her breath comes in puffs around her and every time it does it makes her angry because, oh, it’s ten o’clock at night and hardly forty-five degrees and some asshole chained his bike to hers.

She kicks at the chain with her boot uselessly, cringing in pain as her already frozen toes sting upon impact. Her teeth chatter and she wrings her hands inside her hoodie pocket, wishing more than anything that she had worn a proper jacket or a hat or mittens or something to help her conceal the little body heat she has remaining. She’s probably near hypothermic. She’s probably near death.

She swears that if she dies she will come back to earth as a ghost and haunt this guy’s soul for the rest of eternity.

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CS ff: “Shake Your (Cotton) Tail”

A/N: A few days ago, I got into a conversation with @pompeiiablaze​ about Emma and Killian celebrating Easter. Pom wrote a thing, and posted it with the picture at the end of this post (picture used with permission). I was already working on my own, and noticed some hilarious similarities that existed outside what we’d already talked about. So consider this the extended version of the accompanying ficlet to the picture, with some detail changes. Happy Belated Easter, friends! I feel like this could’ve been much smuttier but I went with what the muses gave me. 

Rating: sMut. sMutty sMut. 

Summary: Killian has some questions about the logistics of egg hunts and mascots, but Emma convinces him to stop asking questions with the promise of an enjoyable evening.

“So we’re hiding eggs. From the Easter Bunny?”

Emma hums out an affirmation from a few feet away where she’s diligently hiding the bright plastic eggs in question. While Henry is firmly in the “non-believer” category, despite being the Truest Believer, there are still plenty of children who still wake up on holidays believing that their treats have been delivered by some magical creature. And while it’s not entirely impossible that these creatures truly exist, they are still creeping about town hiding eggs for the youngins to find later during the Storybrooke egg hunt.

“Then why the bloody hell is the deity a rabbit? We have them searching for eggs, would it not make sense for it to be the Easter Hen?”

“No. No, it’s not actually about the bunny, Killian. It’s actually about Jesus.”

“Oh! The man you’re always cursing out?”

“Je – no. Yes. Well, kind of. But I’m not really cursing him out, I’m just – “

“Relax, love. I’ve read your Bible. I know who the man is. Also, isn’t one of those commandments about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, fully pausing in the task of placing a green egg on one of the chairs on Granny’s patio. He reaches out to stroke her hair in an attempt to sooth where he’s just riled her up, but she speaks before he even makes contact. She turns to him as she does, and he knows what that expression on her face means.

“Do you want the sexy bunny costume later tonight or not? You’re bordering on ‘not’ territory right now.”

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