fic: doing something right

the do over

summary: SPOILERS AHOY. Anyway, I’M MAD AF, and I heard there was some kind of romantic scene shot on the JR coming up, and I can only hope that we get the kind of proposal these two deserve, so without further ado, THE DO OVER:

The do over

“Want to tell me what’s going on, yet?”

Killian smiled as Emma nudged her hip with his, an expectant expression on her beautiful face. Her hand felt reassuringly warm in his as they walked down the docks together towards the Jolly Roger. His nerves were getting the better of him at the moment, but his thumb absentmindedly caressed the ring on Emma’s finger, and it gave him the boost of confidence he needed.

“I know you don’t enjoy surprises, Swan,” he said, “But it’s my hope that you’ll like this one.”

Emma smiled in return, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure, I will.”

Once they reached the Jolly, he gestured gallantly up the gangplank. “After you, m’lady. Captain’s quarters, if you please.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly before climbing aboard his ship, and he followed after her, watching with pride as she navigated the deck with ease. At the top of the hatch leading to his quarters, she shot him a playfully suspicious look before descending down the steps. He knew the exact moment she found her surprise, her soft gasp echoing off the sails, and Killian hurried down after her.

The room was lit with tiny candles, illuminating the table where a three course dinner was set, complete with a bottle of champagne. Light instrumental music wafted through the air from a small portable device that Henry had helped him set up earlier that day.

“Killian, what is this?” Emma asked, turning to him with wonder, but also uncertainty. “If this is about my grandfather, you know I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, Swan,” Killian said, stepping closer to her and taking her hand in his. “And you’ll never know how truly grateful I am to have that forgiveness, but this isn’t about that. At least, not completely.”

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled to steady himself. When he opened them, he dropped down to his knee and looked up at her. Emma’s eyes widened, but Killian spoke before she had a chance to.

“Emma, when I proposed to you, I did so with a heavy heart, weighed down by my secret,” Killian told her, remembering how conflicted he’d felt. He’d been unable to come clean then, loathe to take away her happiness. “But now, I wish to give you the proposal you deserve. No walls. No secrets. Just you and me.”

Emma’s confusion molded into one of understanding, and she smiled softly at her words being repeated back to her.

“There are no words to describe how much I love you,” Killian whispered, looking up into her eyes. In the candlelight, they took on a distinct sheen as he spoke. “Only know that I love you more today than I did yesterday, and that I shall love you more still tomorrow.”

“You helped me find a part of myself that I thought had been lost forever,” he continued, mesmerized by the love in her eyes. “You’ve given me a home, something I’ve never had before, as well as made me a part of your family. There’s nothing I want more in this life than to spend the rest of my days by your side.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks now, and even Killian found his eyes blurring. “Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

Her response was immediate as she nodded fervently. “Yes, yes, I will.”

Hearing the words the second time around was much sweeter than the first, and Killian let the joy he’d been holding back flow through him, smiling uncontrollably as he took her hand to kiss her ring before leaping up and taking her into his arms. Their kiss was wet and salty with both of their tears, but they laughed merrily, arms locked around each other, and Killian knew himself to be the happiest man in all the realms.

“I love you,” Emma sighed into his ear. “Thank you.”

He pressed his lips to hers again in response before pulling away. Reaching behind her, he grabbed the bottle of champagne that had been chilling. “Can I tempt you with a glass, love?”

“What, no rum?” she asked playfully.

“I’m engaged to a princess now,” he quipped, arching an eyebrow at her. “That calls for something a little more sophisticated.”

Emma giggled happily, and Killian grinned, uncorking the bottle with his thumb. He poured them both a glass, handing one to her.

She raised hers in the air. “To our future,” she said firmly.

The threat of Gideon’s dark mission succeeding hung over them for a moment, but Killian nodded. “Our future,” he echoed, clinking her glass with his.

Whatever happened, they would face it together, and Killian knew they would overcome it, as they had done time and time again.

dont-touch-my-sons  asked:

9 for whatever you first get inspiration for!

From this list of soulmate AUs. Have some queerplatonic HeiShin. Unrevised.

9 the one where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your body.

“See ya, Kudou.”

Sometimes, when Shinichi is feeling especially morbid, he looks at those words carved on his chest. If he looks down, he can just see the characters raised above the skin of his heart like some kind of warning. “See ya, Kudou.” It’s an Osakan dialect contraction. Shinichi doesn’t even know anyone from Osaka. It doesn’t stop him from looking at it though, tracing the kana, hoping to find meaning in it.

He hasn’t yet, and it’s been years since it appeared. Hard to find meaning in a casual goodbye. Only they must be on good terms if his soulmate is so casual on his deathbed. That’s about the only thing he can take from it.

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This was stupid

This whole thing, it was so stupid, and it made Annabeth feel stupid, and she wasn’t stupid, she was smart, gods damn it, so why couldn’t she do this? She should have been able to do this.

She only realised she was crying when a tear splashed on to the page of her textbook, blurring the black letters printed on the white page. That tear falling felt like conceding defeat, and soon enough she was crying in earnest, sobbing hard enough that the words became even less intelligible than they’d already been.

She put her head down on the book and let herself cry, feeling terribly stupid and sorry and frustrated. Her whole face felt hot, flushed with anger and annoyance - at this essay, at herself, at the fact that she was a daughter of the goddess of wisdom and she couldn’t seem to write a simple fucking essay.

When the door to her room opened she instinctively straightened, grabbing her dagger and spinning in her seat to face the intruder. When she saw who it was she immediately collapsed back onto the desk, face first, letting her dagger fall to the floor. 

She heard Percy shut the door behind himself. There were a few soft footsteps, and then a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder and a quiet question. “Annabeth, hey, what’s up?”

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:D Oooo nonny, i’ve never done a maya and jack one before :3 How’d I do? :3

Thank you! I hope you like it! <3

Request meme

Imagine being a single parent. After a hectic day of shopping (Christmas, holiday, general) you stop at the book store for one last thing, exhausted kid in tow. They’ve been a trooper all day, obediently following you from store to store, next to no fuss and just well behaved. The line is immensely long in this last store so you find a reading nook nearby, leaving your kid propped up with a book and promising that you can go home soon.
Standing in line, you notice a handsome man strolling among the bookshelves. His long elegant fingers caressing the spines of various classics and you can’t help but smile, appreciating his looks. You admire him for a time before he makes his way to the reading book, clearly intent on sitting down and reading one of his picks (a personal favorite).
As handsome as you think he is, alarms still go off at seeing a stranger in the vicinity of your child and you plead the person next to you to hold your place as you rush over to check on the child.
Much to your surprise, as you reach the nook, your child is holding up the book to the man, explaining the plot to him as he listens in polite amusement.
You swallow hard, not sure what to say until the man notices you standing there and his smile widens.
“Is this lovely little one yours?” He asks in a warm accent you can’t quite place.
“I’m Leala!” Your daughter announces joyously.
You cringe, making a note to remind her about stranger danger.
“My apologies,” the man quickly adds, eyes widening, finally noticing your unease, “this darling princess was telling me all about her book, I wasn’t sure what happened to her parents and was growing concerned. I’m Loki, by the way.”
“Just parent,” you feel the need to correct him, not entirely sure why, before also introducing yourself.
Leala smiles between the two of you, hair flipping around as her head turns.
Loki chuckles at the movement, holding his hand out to shake yours. “Normally a kiss on the hand is more appropriate, but given the situation,” Loki inclines his head towards the person angrily holding your place in line.
“Damn!” You hiss under your breath and Leala’s mouth opens. “I just need to pay for this thing, can we talk after?” You’re not certain why, perhaps his appearance, the kindness in his eyes, or the gentle affection and patience he is showing for your child, but you find yourself wanting to better know him.
“I’d be delighted.”
“We can read the book while we wait!” Leala holds it up to Loki who laughs before nodding.
“Of course, few things would make me happier.” He casts a sly wink at you as you hurry off, a new spring to your step.

Certain elements of fandom confuse me.  Deeply.  Got this a little while ago (comment has been deleted, so don’t go looking for it, I don’t want some poor kid getting swamped with replies)

This one was fantastic up in until Darcy “won”. I don’t really understand the fandom’s love for her. She was not particularly interesting or memorable in Thor, it seems most of her personality traits are made up by the fandom and not canon to her character, but eh. Your universe, your self-insert or fandom personification or whatever she is.

Like, what is this?  Is this supposed to convince me not to write Darcy?  HAHAHHAHAH!  EPIC FAIL!  Now I want to write ALL THE DARCY!  HEAPS OF DARCY!  PILES OF DARCY!  This is the worst possible thing to say to me because I’m a stubborn Yankee woman and I dislike being told what to do and I don’t like when people insult my friends, even my IMAGINARY FRIENDS.

But let’s break this down, because I’m being salty.

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This is for pi-on-a-skateboard who sent a lovely prompt. This is not exactly what you asked for but I tried. And I’m also very very sorry this is so late. Personal stuff got in the way. Hope you understand and enjoy and thanks for the prompt bby! You’re wonderful! xoxo

Connor thinks it’s the way the sunlight is streaming in through the courtroom windows. Or maybe it’s the glare coming off of the opposing counsel’s tablet. It could be that he missed his midmorning caffeinefix or hasn’t had a good night sleep in weeks. Whatever the cause, it doesn’treally matter; Connor can feel the migraine building behind his eyes and just knows it’s going to be a bad one. He digs into his briefcase to grab two of his pills but he can tell it’s too late. The drugs aren’t going to be able to stop it.

Forty minutes later, Connor can feel his heartbeat in his eyes and almost cries when the judge dismisses them for the day. He pulls out his phone to call Oliver on the way to his car. He already told his assistant that he was going home and not back to the office for the afternoon. Oliver picks up just as Connor’s getting in his car.

“Hello.” The word is clipped. Oliver’s got frustrated, de-coding, everyone I work with is an idiot voice going on. And Connor is about to make his afternoon much worse.

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anonymous asked:

Steggy + 41

“You did all of this for me?”

Peggy walked slowly into the centre of the room, hardly able to believe this was really Avengers Tower. The last time she had been here it had been all smooth chrome, black leather and shiny glass, everything as sleek and modern as money could buy. Tonight it had been transformed into a dance hall from the forties.

Dark red drapes framed the windows; Peggy absently trailed her fingers down one, enjoying the feel of the cool silk against her skin as she took in the rest of the decorations. A chandelier now hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a low, yellow light, with a few candelabras stood next to several large bouquets of flowers for atmospheric effect.

Apart from the bar in the back corner all the furniture was gone, leaving only a single table set for two, and a wide expanse of shiny parquet flooring against which her heels made a gentle clacking noise as she walked.

Steve hadn’t moved from where he stood by the doorway, but his eyes followed her as she explored. “Well, I still felt bad about missing our date at the Stork Club.”

Smiling, Peggy felt a contented warmth spread out from her chest, little thrills of anticipation running up and down her spine. No one ever made her feel as breathless and excited as she felt with Steve.

She shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye. “And Tony just agreed to lend you the Tower?”

“I may have had to promise him a favour or two.”

“That could be dangerous.”

“You’re worth it.”

He had moved up behind her and whispered the last three words directly into her ear. She shivered, her nerves seeming to hum with the vibrations of his voice. Turning to face him, she gazed up into his face and lifted one hand to trace his jawline.

“How are we going to dance without any music?”

“Easily fixed.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small remote control. With a press of a button, music started drifting across the room from some well hidden speakers. Peggy tilted her head a little, listening to the familiar refrain: I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places …

Steve was grinning down at her. “I did consider hiring a band. But I thought this would be easier.”

“More private, too, which I prefer.”

Peggy held out her hand. Taking it, Steve pulled her into a close embrace, his other hand sliding to the small of her back. She rested her other hand on his shoulder (taking a moment to enjoy the muscular feel of it under her fingers), and stepped closer to him, so there was less than an inch between them.

“Do you still need me to teach you?” she asked, lifting her face up.

“To dance with actual steps, yeah. Although according to Natasha, nowadays you can just kind of sway and it’s considered dancing.

He started moving his hips from side to side in a slow, rhythmic motion, pulling her along with him. Peggy couldn’t help laughing a little, and could feel Steve’s chest shaking as he chuckled along with her.

She let herself move with him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She could hear the steady thud of his heartbeat, and smell the sandalwood cologne he wore. Breathing deeply, she let the feel, and sound and smell of him fill her senses; this was warmth and love and laughter and safety. This was home.

“Thank you for all of this,” she murmured against his skin, “It’s wonderful.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re welcome. I love you, Peggy.”

“I love you, too.”

Today, I had an Atheist client who told me I exuded Christ. He told me he admired me for not only that but for being able to have a civil conversation with him and not turning it into an argument (which we had a pretty rad conversation). He also said that I was a wonderful woman and that I have great things ahead of me. All of this and the fact that an Atheist can point out that Christ shines through me, kinda makes me happy and makes me feel like I’m doing something right.


So I just need to pop in and say that you need to watch Motorcity right now. Seriously, when you have a dark future setting with giant robots, fast cars, CHAINSAW QUARTERSTAVES, mutant rats, rockin’ soundtracks, good guys pointing SO MANY GUNS at the head of the villain, all while the animation is pretty damn stylish and fluid, and it’s on Disney, you’re doing something right.

Chainsaw Quarterstaves.

I’ve lost the ability to can.