i blame everything on that damn fic

Okay but imagine Fitz and Jemma barricading themselves in a room, the LMDs on the other side, trying to force their way in. They’re together, but they’re also trapped, and they’re scared. They search for something to help them, anything at all, but they know they can’t run forever.

They face the trembling door– trembling a bit themselves– holding a hammer and crowbar, and waiting for the inevitable.

“Follow me.” A voice whispers. LMD May stands near the back, face half hidden by the darkness. Fitz and Jemma turn around, and stay in place. Jemma grips the hammer tighter and narrows her eyes. “And why should we trust you?”

LMD May steps forward, and Fitz and Jemma really get to see her clearly. She looks… tired. Like she’s tired fighting the fights May has been fighting for years. That she’s tired being chased by ghosts and tired of seeing them. That she’s tired of becoming one. Like she’s been through everything May has ever gone through even though they know she’s not May and she knows she’s not May.

“Because Radcliffe told me that I wasn’t built to last,” she begins, and she still looks damn tired but she straightens her shoulders and looks them straight in the eye. “And if I wasn’t built to last, then I’m sure as hell going to do something right before I fall.”

(And she did.)


@the-nerdy-stjarna and @mocking-point i blame you

I HIT 200!!!

Guys, you have no idea how much I’m freaking out right about now. I literally can’t say thank you enough. It’s so crazy to think that there are 200 people out there that actually put up with my shit. And by shit, I mean my annoying ramblings about track + other life problems, my shit-posts involving Lin, and basically everything I do on this blog. Anywho, I FREAKIN’ LOVE EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU T H A N K

Some special peeps I wanted to tag for an extra large “thank you!”: @worldseemedtoburrn @bullcrappery @always-blame-jefferson @hamlltvn @psychedemigod @puns-and-fics @god-damn-it-miranda @love-doesnt-discriminate @sunriseovertheroomwhereithappens @people-i’m-probably-forgetting-sorry

Also, this was my face when I opened tumblr three minutes ago:


Originally posted by discount-speedwagon

sparks fly

It’s Sterekweek!! And I really shouldn’t be writing fic right now but STEREK! Today’s prompt was “Scene Stealer” and I had no idea what to do with that until I stumbled across this post in my prompts tag, which spawned this slightly cracky, Indiana Jones inpired, 1.7k madness - fair warning, the only parallel to Indiana Jones is the fact that Stiles is a professor of archaeology and I sort of forgot evene that half way through sorry I hope you enjoy this anyways!

Stiles has grown up to be a total bamf, okay?

He’s a professor, and he’s a cool professor at that! Okay, all the other professors of archaeology are over seventy and more than half dead, but still. Stiles is the cool one. And apparently even the hot one, if the comments on “Rate my Professor” are to be believed.

So anyways, Stiles is a bamf. Not just because he’s the coolest professor of archaeology ever, but because he’s the coolest professor of archaeology ever who actually does things, finds things! Cool things, magical things!

Oh yes, Stiles is also a little bit magic. Unfortunately you’ve got to take that literally, because Stiles is just a spark. He can do a little magic, is totally awesome at mountain ash - he can even do the cool circle thingie now! - and can be used as a conduit for spells or other people with more magic at their fingertips. The latter is not so great admittedly; people keep kidnapping Stiles to use him for their usually nefarious purposes - like he wouldn’t mind getting regularly kidnapped so much if it was to save the bees or feed all the puppies of the world or something nice like that. But no, instead it’s always world domination, world domination, world domination, with the occasional reach for the stars to mix things up a little.

Case in point: Peter Hale.

Keep reading

when we go crashing down, we come back every time

Adam/Ronan, 6.4k words, pining/angst + fluff

The official version was that Ronan Lynch did not go out of his way to avoid Adam Parrish when he came to visit; he just happened to be elsewhere, doing things, whenever Adam was in the general vicinity of Henrietta. The official version was that there was no bad blood, they just didn’t have that much in common, anyway. The official version was that Ronan couldn’t remember when, exactly, things had fallen apart between them, mind your own business, Dick.

The unofficial — and truer — version was that, despite what he told Gansey in increasing degrees of frustration and profanity, Ronan knew exactly when things had gone wrong.

It was their first kiss that had ruined them.

read on AO3

i would like to point out @knightsren​ is to blame for this. “this” being the fact that i ended up writing fic not-so-loosely based on taylor swift lyrics. (i take full responsibility for how angsty it turned out, though.)

who am i kidding, i loved writing this, i’m so damn weak for song lyrics

Heart’s Desire

I have literally been writing Merintosh fics for two days straight and I blame everyone on this damn ship. Anyway, here is one of my pieces, thanks to the wonderful fangirl–of-everything for beta-ing.

Fandom: Once Upon a Time 

Ship: Merida x Young (Lord?) Macintosh

Word Count: 2000+

Summary: Merida receives an interesting proposal for an alternative to war. Macintosh isn’t too happy about it


The messenger was regarded with the utmost suspicion. He came alone and with no weapons, a scrawny thing that was barely a man. Still, the whole hall kept their hands on their hilts, the guards leading him doing so with drawn swords. Despite this, he wore a swain-like smile, and perhaps that’s what set Merida on edge. He approached the throne, and with a nod from Merida his guards stepped away from him. He looked around a moment before returning his attention to the Queen.

“What’s your name, boy?” Merida asked.

“Tomas, if it pleases the lady.” He said with a wink

Macintosh, who stood front among the spectators, had already grabbed Tomas by the neck by the time Elinor exclaimed. “Show some respect lad. Your speaking to Queen Merida, ruler of Dunbroch and Protector of the Highlands.”

Even with Elinor’s warning, Tomas looked more concerned with the larger man, who from close up, looked willing to snap the neck he held.

Merida, who’d only raised an eyebrow at Tomas’s brazenness, couldn’t see Macintosh’s expression.

“You came here under a white banner, Tomas. Who leads you, and why does he choose now to call for peace?”

“Queen Merida, I come to you from his Majesty, King Antonio, ruler of Illyria.” Tomas said with a flourish

“Antonio, eh? And just why is your king trying to attack my castle?”

“King Antonio has come to collect a debt he feels owed to him by the clans Dinglewall and Macduffin. I’m afraid I do not know the specifics, only that the lairds who created such debt are now both dead. However, King Antonio has decided there is something he’d rather have than the money.”

“Oh and what’s that?”

“If I may, your majesty?” He indicated with his eyes to Macintosh, who had him still by the collar. Merida sighed.

“Let him go, Macintosh.” She ordered. He did so with a shove. Tomas reached into his pocket and, slowly for the benefit of the clansmen, pulled out a piece of paper. He held it out to Merida. Macintosh grabbed it out of Tomas’ hand with a sneer, and carried it to Merida. She reached for it but was stopped by her mother.

“Wait, Merida, it could be a trap.”

“Mother really, what do you suspect, there’s poison dust hidden in the folds?” Merida rolled her eyes and reached again for the letter, but this time Macintosh pulled it away. She gave him a look to say, ‘really’

“Give it here, Macintosh.” Elinor said. He handed the dowager queen the note, who opened it at arms length. No poison powder fell off. Elinor scanned the letter quickly, and soon blushed quite red.

“What is it Mother?”

Elinor searched for the right word. “Love poetry.” She finally said. “For you.”

“What’s that?” Merida didn’t bother hiding her surprise. She snatched the paper from her mother and scanned it briefly.

“Fair…….. Flowing hair….. Eyes like fire…. Are you sure he isn’t talking about Macintosh over there? ” Merida  suggested. The clans all laughed good naturedly, except Macintosh who glared at her. She gave him a smile in return. When the laughter died down  enough to be heard Tomas took the opportunity to say loudly.

“My master, King Antonio, was so taken by your beauty and courage on the battlefield, he has fallen madly in love with Your Majesty and, if you would have him, desires your hand in marriage.”

Dead silence followed his announcement. A glance at the queen told Tomas she’d frozen solid at the offer. The dowager queen covered her mouth in a ladylike gasp. Lords Dingwall and Macduffin stared open mouthed. The entire court looked at either Tomas or the queen, as if awaiting a punchline to a very bad joke.  But it was the Lord Macintosh who looked at him like he would now gladly remove his head from his neck for the sheer joy of it.

Queen Merida spoke first. “Are you fucking with me?” She said the words slowly and purposefully.

“No, but I believe the point is he would like to.”

All hell broke loose in the chamber. Men were yelling obscenities at Tomas and at each other. Many were defending their queens honor, the rest shouting suggestions at what to do with King Antonio’s proposal. Macintosh grabbed Tomas, already drawing his sword.

“Oy! Shut it! All of you!” Merida came to her feet and screamed at the crowd. Silence fell again. Macintosh sent Tomas sprawling on the ground in front of the throne, sword drawn.

“Your Majesty, allow me to send this King Antonio his answer back in pieces.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Macintosh.” Merida said with a roll of her eyes, but she didn’t notice her own good natured smile at his declaration. “Tell your King-”

“Before you refuse him,” Tomas interrupted from the ground. Macintosh’s sword pressed further against his neck. “King Antonio insists I tell you he is willing to pay 500,000 gold pieces for your hand in marriage.”

Merida fell silent. The Kingdom had been in a debt for the past few years, ever since the last time they went to battle. While things were not dire, such a sum would clear them of all debt and propel them into a long state of comfort.

Merida sat down.

“My queen, you can’t be seriously considering this.” Macintosh said, his face a mix between shock and worry. Macduffin and Dingwall voiced their agreement. Merida ignored them all.

“500,000 gold pieces and no more battle?” She clarified to Tomas, who nodded.

Merida turned to her guards. “Return this boy to his King, and tell him I will send my answer shortwhile.”

The hall erupted in chaos again, but Merida paid it no mind. Instead she looked to her mother, who looked back worriedly. Macintosh practically stepped on Tomas as he and the other clan lords made to approach the queen. But before they could protest further, she’d grabbed her bow and swept away from them, leaving the room to the reign of her mother. The three clan lords turned to the former queen for answers, but though she appeared to be steeling herself to bring the room back under control, the look she gave them showed she was as confused as they were.

Macintosh turned and stalked back to his clansmen. The Dunbroch guards were wrestling Tomas up and pushing him out the door.

“M'laird, you don’t really think the Queen will accept such a proposal, do ya?” One clansmen asked.

“The fool tries to woo her with love poetry.” Another exclaimed in disgust.

“We don’t fear a war.” Someone else said. “Let them bring their swords, we’ll fight them back!”

“Aye, then all the clans are agreed.” Dingwall said from behind. Macintosh turned to see him and Macduffin. “Queen Merida shouldn’t have to give up love for us, though we all know she would.”

“We need to talk to her Macintosh,” Macduffin said. “She’ll listen if we stand together.”

“She won’t.” Elinor interrupted. “Not if she thinks what she’s doing is for the good of the Kingdom.”

Macintosh stepped towards the window and pointed towards it, where somewhere outside a host sat ready to attack.  "She cannot marry that.“

"You don’t know that. She’s never even met him.”

“That man is about as right for her as a goat for a horse. I’ll make her listen if I have to.” Macintosh declared, and strode away, ignoring loud protests to follow Merida.

He found her on top of the outer walls, looking over the bay to the other side of the water, where King Antonio’s forces had made camp.

“You can’t seriously be considering this.” He stopped a few paces from her. Merida exhaled suddenly, as if exhausted. A piece of paper hung limp in her hand.

“What would you have me do? He’ll stop the war before it begins and give us the gold we need.”

“Not badly. Merida we can fight and win this war.”

“And how many men will die, in one battle, in two or three of however many it takes to win, just cuz I’m being selfish.” Merida pivoted to face Macintosh head on. “How can I ask men to lay down their lives so I can avoid laying in one mans bed?”

“It’s not just a bed, Merida, it is a marriage. You will be bound to him in all things, life, love, and duty. You were willing to break tradition and face all the clans to protect your claim to the throne without marrying a lad you didn’t love.” Macintosh took two steps closer to her.

“This is different. When I refused to marry you and the others, it was because I didn’t want to be trapped in a marriage of my mother’s choosing for no purpose other than getting what I was owed. Peace and money, I’m not owed, I need to earn, for my kingdom, and if this is what I have to do for it-”

Macintosh cut her off. During their exchange the distance had closed between them to less than a step, and he closed it with a powerful stride, taking her face in his hands in a way that she could order his hands cut off for,  and crashed her lips to his.

For a second Merida was frozen. She was hyper aware of his strong body pressed against hers, heat emanating from his bare chest, kissing her for all he was worth. Then instinct took over, and she kissed him back, dropping what she held to place one hand on his chest and fist the other in his hair. One of his hands dropped from her face to her waist, pulling her even closer.

For a few blissful moments they lost themselves in each other, consumed by the hatred that had turned to respect, then passion somewhere along the way. The fiery queen of the Highlands, and the lord who would do anything for her.  All too soon, Merida’s brain sped up to her body and gave her a from command. Stop.

She gasped a little as she shoved Macintosh off of her. She retreated back a few steps, all the while taking long breaths to try and drive oxygen to her obviously faulty brain.  “Don’t.” she warned. “Don’t do that.”

“Merida-“ Macintosh stepped towards her, but she dodged quick as a wink,  and revolved to the other side of him.  He turned to follow her, but she looked at him with something between a warning and a plead.

“You will not touch me like that again.” She ordered. Before he could reply she turned and retreated, with haste, back into the castle.

Macintosh watched her go, anger boiling over at himself. He stood there long after she’d disappeared from sight. Finally, he released a guttural growl, and slammed his fist against the stone battlement. The sting that shot up his arm was welcome enough. He was ready to do it again when he saw the flutter of white from the corner of his eye. It was whatever Merida had dropped. He picked it up and scanned over it, his temper worsening with every line. Merida had been rereading the King’s love poem.

At Armeggedon, I did spot a maiden so fair
Beneath an armored dress and wild red hair
Whose locks of flames gave power to her eyes like fire
And I knew at once I’d found my hearts desire
For she fought as strong as any man
And with kinglike grace did lead her clan
Neither dirt nor blood did mar her beauty
Neither grace nor poise did hinder her in her duty
To fight and slay the oncoming force
Like a warrior goddess she sat upon her horse
And if I would die today I’d ask only this
To Receive one sweet kiss
From her pale pink lips
Feel my hands on her rounds hips
And know heavens bliss

Macintosh gritted his teeth. It was only right he return this to Merida. After all, she was his Queen and he her sworn lord, and this was her property. But he didn’t care enough. He ripped the letter up until it was nothing but shreds, and threw them over the battlements. The little white slips floated down to the dirt below, and he only wished he could deal with King Antonio himself as easily.