for @pemasea and @preatorpercy - i’m so sorry it’s taken so long and still isn’t finished, but here’s a start on that ariel and moana fic for you!!!
“I am Moana of Motunui. You will board my boat and restore the heart to Te Fiti.” She pulled the sail around, grunting slightly with the effort, and repeated the mantra again. “I am Moana of Motunui. You will board my boat and -”
Something interrupted the chant that had been running through her head since she’d set out on this voyage. A voice in the distance, high and sweet and - singing?
Moana froze. When she concentrated, she could clearly hear the song, carrying over the waves. It couldn’t have been that far away. She mustn’t have been so utterly surrounded by water as she’d thought. The voice was heavenly, sweeter than anything she’d ever heard before, and Moana felt drawn to it by something beyond her control. The same longing she felt whenever she stood on the shore of Motunui surged within her again now, this time pulling her over the sea and towards the strangely beautiful sound. Barely hesitating, she changed course and headed straight for the voice.
Okay so actually I’ve wanted to wait until my 3 month anniversary for another follow forever but the anticipation is killing me and if I just do it now and keep it in my drafts the risk is too high that too many people will change their URLs. Also, I would have never thought that I’d get so many followers (almost 800 of your are following why) and find so many new friends in only such a short time. [I also apologise for any mistakes tumblr makes in this]
bolded = mutuals ★ = faves (pls forgive me I’ve probably forgotten so many stars) [side blogs & networks not included]
I never liked taking
my young son, Ben, along on business trips, as he was at that tireless,
inquisitive age whereby everything is either boring or fascinating. But Ben’s
father - a handyman - was working all weekend and the regional office had
a creche, so I decided to turn the trip into a weekend break. The hotel in
Atlanta, Georgia was pretty, but past it’s best - the sort of place with lots of
empty rooms. The polite young guy on reception took a shine to us, and gave us
the penthouse suite at the regular room-rate, since no-one was using it.
The suite was huge: two bedrooms and a lounge; plenty of
space for Ben to play whilst I worked on my presentation which nobody would
“Misser Duck’s in here, mommy!” He ran out of the bathroom,
I barely looked up from my ancient laptop. “You mean ‘Mr.
Duck’, sweetie?” He couldn’t pronounce his ‘T’s.
“Misser Duck, Misser Duck!” he was bouncing with glee. “He’s
sayin’ fings! Come see, mommy!”
I said I’d go look later, pleased he’d made a friend to
amuse himself, even if it was imaginary. “But ducks don’t ‘say’ things, honey.
They quack! So why don’t you quack back?”
I became so engrossed in my stupid project that I didn’t
notice it was growing dark outside. Ben’s giggles from the lounge spurred me to
shut my laptop and call him in.
“I’ll order us some food, buddy. Sorry mommy’s not been much
“S’ OK, mommy. Misser duck’s been quack-quack-quacking! He
This made me smile, although I wondered what had brought a
duck to mind, as we were about as far from any pond as possible. That night,
Ben insisted he sleep alone in the adjoining bedroom; I agreed as he’d been so
well-behaved all evening. I heard him whispering softly until late, and figured
he was excited about being away from home and making a new, make-believe
friend. I imagined hearing faint, raspy “quacks” echoing as I drifted off to
sleep, and gentle duck footsteps somewhere above me.
The next morning I found Ben curled up under his bed in a
“Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart? Doesn’t Mister Duck want
to play, today?”
“Misser duck lef’ me all alone. He liked seein’ you sleep
I felt a draft on the back of my neck, and looked up to see
the ancient ventilation shaft above the head of Ben’s bed, missing its grill
cover. I rushed back into my room to find an identical set-up. As I peered into
the black passageway, just big enough to fit a person, it dawned on me that
Ben’s dad would have taught him the word “duct”, as he was forever fixing them
in our apartment block. I’d noticed similar shafts in the suite’s bathroom and
“You lookin’ for
Misser Duck? S’ OK, Mommy. He quacked me where we lived, so I quacked him our
Hi! Could you write something about Katara starting to be the fire lady and Zuko supporting her? Thank you!
AN: This is a really great prompt and I love the idea, but I’m so sorry I’ve rewritten this like 4 times and I’m so unsatisfied with everything I’ve tried to write. I’m going to just post this because it’s been in my drafts forever and I don’t want to start on my new promts until I get this one out but bleh I am really unhappy with this I’m sorry
“Hey, are you okay?”
Katara let out a sigh of relief when she heard Zuko’s voice coming towards her. As she turned, she saw her fiancee walking down the hall, heading in her direction. She had been pacing in front of the large door, but stopped when she heard Zuko.
She offered him a smile. “Yeah, I’m just… nervous.” Zuko raised an eyebrow at her.
“You? Nervous?” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous.”
Katara glared at him teasingly. “Yeah, well, this is important!”
It really was. Zuko had proposed to Katara three days ago, and today was the day they were to officially announce the engagement to the Fire Nation. Katara had been working towards this day for a long time. Ever since the beginning of their courtship, Zuko and Katara both knew this relationship was going to last. So Katara had been studying Fire Nation history and practicing how to be a good Fire Lady from the start.
All the practice in the world, however, couldn’t make the people like her, and Katara was terrified that the people wouldn’t accept her.
“What if they don’t want me as their Fire Lady?” Katara asked quietly. She looked away from Zuko, embarrassed. She know she shouldn’t have these doubts, but they came to her anyways. She was a waterbender. Would she ever be good enough? What if the people refused her?
Zuko reached out and cupped Katara’s cheek, gently pulling her face toward him. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look. I know you’re nervous, but honestly? I think the people of the Fire Nation love you more than they love me.” Katara scoffed slightly. Zuko offered her a crooked smile. “I’m serious!” He insisted. “You know they love you, Katara. They are going to be so happy. And even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t care. You would prove them wrong, I know you would.
“If every person out there hated you now, I bet after just a week of being Fire Lady they wouldn’t. I love you, and that’s what’s important.” His gold eyes looked onto Katara with nothing but love and pure adoration. He leaned in, kissing her sweetly on the lips.
When he pulled away, he smiled at her again. “I believe in you, Katara. I love you.”
Katara smiled back at him, taking his hand in hers. “I love you, too.” And she did. She loved him so much. She would do anything for Zuko, no matter what.
“Are you ready?” He asked. Katara nodded.
The double doors opened. The sunlight shone on Katara, blinding her. Though she momentarily could not see, she could hear the Fire Sage’s booming voice. “Now presenting: Fire Lord Zuko and his betrothed, Lady Katara of the Southern Water Tribe!”
She could also hear the deafening cheers and applause.
Here is some little prompt for you from your CSSS Emma peered over at the test that was sitting on her marble sink and paused running her hand in her hair. Ok, so this isnt how she wanted this to happen. They had been together for what three months? Two months? It was besides the point because now because of one night of them messing around she was pregnant. Pregnant. She, Emma swan was pregnant. Great. How was Killian going to react?
This is from my CSSS @askthedarkswanand it’s sat in the graveyard of my drafts forever because I could never find what I wanted to say. I had recently written a pregnancy-ish story “Just a Dream” and I wasn’t sure where else to go with this trope. But today I got inspired so I hope you like this and thanks a million for the prompt!!!!
Who’s Gonna Walk You Through the Dark Side of the Morning?
Emma sat pressed back in the corner of her tiny bathroom, the cool tile beneath her the only thing that cut through the numbness. And she stared unblinkingly at the test that lay on the floor trapping her in the corner, those two thick lines staring mercilessly at her.
It wasn’t possible.
Well, possible. But it had to be a dream- a nightmare.
She dragged her fingers through her hair tugging at the strands as though the pain might match just a little of the cataclysm raging within her. Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. She had been so stupid. They had been so stupid.
The thought clanged through her. Killian. Oh lord she had to tell him. And then finally her vision blurred with traitorous tears, her nose burning as she bit her lip trying to hold back the sob she felt clawing its way out. She wanted to swallow it, push it all back down inside. Just like her whole life: foster homes, drunk foster parents, bullies at school, forever the new girl, the catcalls from the cars on her way home, the money scraped together from the job at the diner, the nights the cook ‘accidentally’ made an extra burger or grilled cheese. She’d fought her way through all of it, and at last the sob tore from her because she knew this time she couldn’t just ignore it until it passed.
And it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t goddamn fair. She and Killian had only been together by the loosest of definitions for a few months over the summer, and even then she had known they had been better as friends. It was better that they not get too close. No one should be saddled to the train wreck of her life. No one should give up dreams of Ivy league, and that sailing competition because she’d never amount to anything. Always be the girl from the system, messy past, police record, the girl who got pregnant at 18. No one should have to give up their life for that.
It had been a shadow over her every minute they had spent together. That creeping feeling as he talked excitedly about all the places he wanted to travel to, the twist in her gut as she watched some pretty girl with the right clothes and daddy’s credit card flirt with him only for him to walk back to her, the sadness in her smile as he tried to make her laugh. And it had been there that morning down by the docks when she’d woken tangled in him wrapped only in his shirt. She’d known she had to let him go. He was a gentleman and that was the only reason he had resisted when she’d ended it.
Apparently the universe had a sick sense of humor. Because when she had finally done the right thing something like this happened.
Slowly she reached out and snatched up the test tossing it the small trash can and burying it beneath the tissues as though that would erase it. And even slower she eased up onto her trembling legs. She paused as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Eyes red rimmed, skin blotchy and tear streaked, hair limp. It wasn’t the reflection of the girl she had been that summer.
That Emma had been fresher, unafraid. Her hair lighter and her skin a few shades darker. Her cheeks a little fuller from a few weeks full time at the diner meaning she had the cash to not skip meals. And that Emma had put on a bit of mascara those nights she snuck out her window to meet him. That Emma had a hint of a smirk and a spark in her eyes. Careless at seventeen and living for moment and the story.
She stared at this new face in the mirror and she ached for those lost days. Those endlessly long days and the slow fade of dusk, the flicker of fireflies and the crackle of thunderstorms in the air. Her heart throbbed for the careless way they had sat beside the shore with the bottle of whiskey he nicked from his house, warm and forbidden. The way it made those nights fuzzy and had softened out her edges. Free as she had never been. The feeling of his hand in hers as he had pulled her along the spiraling stairs of the abandoned lighthouse so they could watch the sunset from ‘the best seat in town.’ And the feel of his lips on hers when they’d kissed for the first time by the old wishing well in the woods.
Her fingers brushed her now chapped lips and she realized just how much she had missed him these past couple months. The glint in his impossibly blue eyes, his swaggering walk, and that stupid accent. His way of knowing from a glance what was bothering her, the sincerity of his words, his stubborn way of always being there, his tone when he told her he loved her.
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Typical that the one person she wanted with her, wanted to talk to was the one person she dreaded talking to, the one person who might never want to see her again if he knew. But facing the dark tunnel before her she wanted his hand in hers and the press of his lips to her hair as he told her again how it was them against the world.
But even if she told him could she ask that of him? After what she’d done, the words she’d had to throw at him to make him finally yield had surely broken them irrevocably.
And still just last month when she’d passed him on main street she’d noticed the way his eyes swept over her and stayed heavy on her back as she’d walked on. And had it even been a week since Granny had remarked that Killian had popped into the diner one night right at the time her shift would have ended if she’d been there.
Her finger shook slightly as she scrolled through the names in her phone. But squeezing her eyes shut and pulling in a shaking breath she chose him.
i actually started writing the first one forever ago and forgot about it so i dragged out the draft and finished it up LMFAO
for those just joining: this is based off the true event of the time i was in quickplay and our widowmaker named “daddy” got a lifesaver play of the game for saving my fragile healer ass from both a reinhardt and a s76 and i wanted to die of embarrassment
When the team returned to the dropship after a successful defense of the payload, nobody was quite sure why, exactly, Angela seemed to be in such a foul mood. Her lips were drawn tight, her knuckles white on her staff, face flushed with something like furious embarrassment… Lúcio had tentatively asked her if she was alright, and the dark glare she’d shot in his direction quickly dissuaded the remainder of her strike team from asking.
With the exception, of course, of one Amélie Lacroix, whose shit-eating grin was equally noticeable.
Even though you’ve both finally caught your breaths, Sam doesn’t pull away just yet. You cradle him with your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders as he nuzzles to your neck, peeking his warm tongue over the dark marks he had made along your throat. You could feel his hot breath and his lips curl up into a soft smile when you shivered underneath him, still sensitive to his little touches. His weight wasn’t uncomfortable at all. It’s warm, safe, shielding.
There’s a soft ache of soreness on the spots where your thighs connect to your hips, but it feels good. One of Sam’s arms moves to support his weight as his other tenderly moves down the curve of your breast, over the line of your waist and gently massaging and pressing all over to ease your still trembling muscles. He always takes care of you.
After another long moment, Sam finally shifts to your side. You snuggle close, tangling your legs with his, and cupping his face to kiss his swollen lips. You run your fingers through each other’s hair, breathing at the same rhythm. He tells you to rest, that he’ll be right there right beside you when you wake like he always is.
Dean eases you down from your high with heavy kisses as he moves to spoon you. His firm chest is pressed to your back and an arm is tucked under yours when he pulls your body close. His hand is just over your heart and he chuckles that it’s still beating rapidly.
He kisses the curve of your shoulder and you can feel the little butterfly kisses of his long eyelashes on your soft skin before he nuzzles to your hair. A giggle escapes your lips when he kisses the little spot behind your ear and then the ticklish spot on your neck. He just smiles, squishing you closer to his body and keeps making you laugh for the rest of the night.
Cas is smiling, his eyes are closed, and you stare at the soft lines of his face and his dark eyelashes as he traces slow circles on your back. His eyes slowly open when he hears you hum and whisper a verse, lips pressing against his cheek, and you’re smiling. He closes his eyes again when you move your arm underneath his head and your hand runs though his dark hair.
“I’m finding it hard to believe, we’re in heaven,” Cas just continues on, voice a little hoarse. He’s heard the song only come from you, almost like tradition in these quiet, sweet times. You have told him once before that it is a popular song, and yet the only version he wants to hear is the one spilling out of your soft lips when it’s lyrics as true as those.
A/N: For @meangreenlimabean, hope you like it! I’m trying to get back into writing, and I know I haven’t done these in aaagggeeesss, but yet here it is. This has been collecting dust in my drafts since forever, time to dust it off, am I right???
I don’t know how Tada-nii would react to Hiro dating, because Hiro has never dated. Huh. Wonder why.
(little note, I’m not an ask blog and I usually don’t take requests either >.< This was just a cute ask I had sitting in my inbox for a really long time, and happened to fit well with something I wanted to draw anyway ^ ^; Thanks for understanding! <3)
//So my original plan fell through (as expected really, but points for trying) buuuuuut as you can see dearies, I AM BACK ONLINE AT LONG FUCKIN’ LAST.
I shall be hitting the inbox since old memes are lurking there & following that, taking a look at drafts/replies. Checking messages. Might do a fresh starter call for new followers. In the meantime I just wanted to do a very smol bias list; I’ve hit another amazing milestone & though methinks all of you got lost & really shouldn’t be here, you are. So thank you all so much & I love youuuuuse.
Okay, bias list commencing in no particular order - these precious amazing lil’ freakie-deakies are my forever loves & y’all seriously need to follow them right now. Quality right here, no joke. Here are my usual suspects, the ones I always come back to cuz they’re my babies. If I’ve forgotten anyone, blame me being too excited to be back on here to think straight atm
Hey guys! As I promised about a month ago, here is an early draft of the first chapter of the Price of Magic.
For those just tuning in, the Price of Magic is a fantasy novel I’m working on featuring a world in which all magic is sourced from emotions, but when a spell is cast the emotions used to cast it are consumed forever. A mage could use their enjoyment of their favourite food to create enough food for a whole city, but ever after the thing they used to love would give them no pleasure at all. Most mages have pets, temporarily. Few mages have children.