i'm just so proud of her it makes me cry and laugh at the same moment

Syd Tries FanFiction: The Blarke Reunion

So fair fucking warning I have never in my life written fic before, but I typed this out for @clxrkblake tonight so we could cry and she told me to post it so I’m gonna. Basically this was my ideal, dream reunion before I saw the finale. (I’ve changed my mind about a few things since we saw the new ship but whatever I’ll still dream of this reunion every night for the next 9 months.)

So anyway, I wrote this up in like 30 minutes and there’s probably lots of typos, but deal with it and then come cry with me. <3


Bellamy sits by the window like he does every year, looking at the planet he used to call home. The glass in his hand is almost empty by now. It almost makes up for the whole thats still in his heart. It almost, for a second makes him forget she isn’t there beside him, that they never got that drink. 

He starts the same as he does every year. “I miss you. It’s been 6 years and I still miss you every day. You’d be so proud of everyone. Even Murphy.” He wipes at the tears collecting in his eyes. It never gets easier.

“I just wish… I wish I’d have told you when we had the chance. Timing never really was our strong suit was it? We were too busy keeping 100 kids alive. I wouldn’t trade it for the world though. Not a second of it.” He lifts the empty cup towards the planet thats now her grave. “I still love ya, Princess.”

He knows Raven’s behind him even before she comes to stand next to him. She’s always there for this. “It’s never gonna get easier is it?”

She shakes her head. “No. I still miss Finn every day. But you learn to deal with it. You never get over losing the one you love, their memory just becomes a part of who you are.”

He nods along. He asks her the same question every year. Every year, expecting to get a different answer. Maybe this time she’ll tell him ‘Yeah. The pain fades. One day you can breathe again. One day you’ll be able to look down at the earth below you and not feel that part of you that’s missing. But she never does.

“She’d be so proud of you Bellamy. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I just-” The static of the radio on his hip interrupts his thoughts. “Shit I thought I turned that off.” He fumbles for it, hands made clumsy by the drinks he’s downed. He barely has it out of the holster when he stops himself. Was that? No… It couldn’t be… It was just the alcohol in his system. But then…

“Where - you?"A voice. A voice even after 6 years, after 100 years he would never let himself forget. Her voice.

"Oh my god…” Raven whispers from behind him. “It can’t…”

The radio depends back into static once more before going silent and Bellamy raises his own shocked eyes to meet Ravens. “Clarke?”


They don’t believe him. “You were just drunk Bellamy.” “It’s been six years Bellamy.” They think he’s holding on to a ghost, but he knows what he heard.

“We can’t risk it because you thought you heard a dead girl on the radio.” That’s Murphy.

“It could have been an old transmission… we can’t just go down without knowing anything-”

“I left her once. I am not doing it again. If there is even the slightest chance that she is alive down there, WE ARE GOING BACK FOR HER.”


Three weeks after the night by the window they make contact. He’s helping Monty check on the algae when he hears Raven screaming his name through the halls.

“I found it.” That’s all it takes for him to follow her to the control room, to the radio, to Clarke.

“This is the station it came through. But we don’t know for sure-”

“Have you tried to make contact yet?”

“No, we were waiting for you.”

“Ok…” He sighs and grabs the radio. This is it. He’s either about to finally find that missing piece of himself or lose it all over again. “This is Ark Ring to… the ground. Is anyone there? Clarke are you there?”

There’s nothing. It feels like hours floating through freezing water waiting to hear something, anything.


“I’m sorry Bell.” Monty puts a hand on his shoulder.

She’s gone. He pushes himself away from the table ready to yell, or cry, or hit something. 


“Holy shit.”

Bellamy could tell you he’s never moved that fast in his life, almost falling over himself to get to the radio. “Clarke?”

“Bell-my?” His legs give out, but Murphy leans in to ease his fall.

“Yeah. Yeah Clarke it’s me. Oh my- It’s you? It’s really you? How?”

“Yeah Bell, it’s me.” He can hear the tears in her voice, the same as his own. 

“I’m coming back for you. I’m coming back. I promise. I’m not leaving you again.”

“I miss you.” Its all she can say.


The day they land on Earth the second time, isn’t anything like the first. It’s raining for one.

Two, he knows what’s waiting for him when he opens the door. 

And she is. 

Standing at the tree line, looking as beautiful as the day he lost her, is Clarke. Her hair is shorter. And there’s one or two more wrinkles around her eyes when she smiles, but god is she beautiful. Its like they’re not frozen for a moment, both of them standing in shock and amazement that they finally get this. 

Then, it’s like time is moving in fast forward and he’s on his feet and hers are carrying her towards him and they crash together like suddenly all their forgotten broken pieces are fitting back together. He holds her so close he thinks he can feel her heartbeat in his chest and she tangles her small hands through his hair and they’re both crying. But for the first time in 6 years, they aren’t tears for grieving. He’s sobbing apologies against her hair and she’s whispering forgiveness against his shoulder and it’s almost like they didn’t lose those 6 years. Like they were kids again, stranded on a dying planet, leaning on each other for survival.

He pulls back first to look at her. He wants to take in every single inch of her face and memorize it because he never wants to have to forget that face again. 

“I never gave up.” She laughs. “Not on you.”

He stroked her cheek, through the rain and the tears. “I thought I lost you. For 6 years.”

“You didn’t.” She pulls him close against, resting her forehead against his, and they laugh. 

He spent the past 6 years wishing he hadn’t lost her, dreaming that she could come back to him, praying that he could just hold her one more time. And now he get’s all of it. Because she’s alive and in his arms and laughing with him in the rain and he’s never going to lose her again.

TAH DAH! I hope it wasn’t awful! I’m gonna tag a few mutuals so they can share my pain. Love you guys!

@sassamyblake @bellsgirl @octanakin @ravenbellclarke @starboybellamy @scottmcblake @bobmorlee @stargirlclarke

A Good Brother

Since he was a little boy, Charles Weasley saw Voldemort as his personal boggeyman. Even if  he’d never met the man in person, little Charlie was terrified of that person who’s name shouldn’t be said that made his parents sad and angry. He would ask every night for his  parents to check under his bed if he wasn’t there. The idea of a mass murderer hiding in his son’s room always started an ugly laughter in Arthur Weasley’s throat. But every night, he complied and assured Charlie he was safe and had nothing to fear. It was a lie of course. They both knew it.

Charlie knew he was right to be scared when he was eight and he saw his mother cry for the first time. He entered the kitchen one morning and saw her curled on her chair, a piece of parchement resting on the table. Charlie sneaked in to try and read the paper. His first fear was that something happened to one of his brothers. Because that was what his dad and mum often talked about when they thought Bill and Charlie were asleep. The words were small and complicated, but Charlie could decypher two names, Fabian and Gideon. His parents hated lying to their children, so they told them that their uncles were fighting You-Know-Who and died.  They didn’t say they were killed, but Charlie kind of understood that. He wasn’t sure what death really was just yet, but Bill told him it meant he would never see his uncles again. When he saw the twin caskets, a couple days later and watched them disappear in the ground, Charlie cried. He didn’t make a noise, because no one was talking, and you’re not supposed to be loud if everyone else is quiet. He simply gripped Bill’s hand and followed him around. For years, Charlie would dream of twin caskets in which his siblings were resting.

At school, Charlie was gentle and popular enough that people didn’t make fun of him if he ever got surprised crying because he was missing his brothers and sister. They would simply go look  for Bill, and later Percy, and either would comfort him and help him write letters home. Charlie was terribly bad with words and never knew how to get his thoughts across. In return for his letters, he would get drawings and pictures. He kept them preciously in his bedside table.

When he was thirteen, Charlie kissed a girl. She was pretty and smelled nice but even he didn’t feel much. There was no butterfly or firework in his belly like he’d been told he’d feel. At sixteen, Charlie kissed a boy, and though it was nice enough too, it wasn’t special enough to have him wanting to do it often. He’d learned about dragons the previous year though, during a class of Care About Magical Creatures. That lit his eyes up and made him daydream far more than any kisses could.

Charlie left Hogwarts the summer before Ron entered it. He left home in August, and headed to Romania to study dragons. He’d already read every book from the Library and was ready to meet people who’d understand his passion. Charlie made friends, and was teased for chosing a hermit life  in forests with giant lizards over becoming a Quidditch star. He didn’t mind, because at the end of the day, he got to see dragon eggs and share hot cocoa with his colleagues. The highlight of his year was still when his parents and sister came to visit. He also managed to get Bill to drop by. They got drunk and Bill listened to him cry about how much he missed all of their siblings. Charlie kept the drawings and photographs in a tiny box in his trunk. When spring came around and he received Ron’s letter asking him to smuggle a baby dragon, all his friends exploded in laughter and were ready to go before he even finished his explanations. They already knew Charlie would do anything for his siblings.

Charlie wasn’t there when Ron got hurt saving the world at the end of his first year. He came back for summer and bought Ron as many candies as he could eat. Sometimes, being a good brother is in discreet celebrations.

Charlie wasn’t there when his baby sister got possessed and left for dead in a mythical chamber. When summer came and Ginny left school, paler and more silenced than ever, Charlie kept a vigilant  eye on her. He didn’t go back to Romania for months. And when Arthur won the Daily Prophet Grand Prise Galleon Draw, Charlie was the one to suggest they should all go visit Bill. Sometimes, being a good brother is knowing your presence and a change of scenary are the best medicine.

Charlie was there when the Death Eaters attacked supporters celebrating a victory - or drinking the bitter taste of loss away. He went to fight alongside the Ministry to protect his siblings and everyone who needed it. He also stayed the rest of the summer in the Burrow. Sometimes, being a good brother is making sure your siblings and their friends have an open ear if they need to talk their fears away.

Charlie wasn’t there when Harry, his adopted but estranged sibling, watched Voldemort come back from the dead. From Charlie’s childhood nightmares. He learned about it in one of Ginny’s letters and got his worst burns when her words resonnated in his head as he was tending a dragon. In his head, Ginny had that same terrified voice as when she was twelve and asking him if Tom would come back. Charlie felt like he’d been lying to her for years, telling her she was safe and had nothing to fear. That Tom would never come back. Sometimes, being a good brother is forgetting how life doesn’t always follow your hopes.

Charlie wasn’t there when his father got attacked by an evil snake. Charlie wasn’t there when Dumbledore’s tiny army raided the Ministry. He came back to see the greying hair on his father’s head and the scars on Ron’s arms. Ron laughed it off. Charlie cried it out. Sometimes, being a good brother is shading tears other people won’t cry.

Charlie lived in Romania. He loved it, loved the people, the country, and above all his job. But when Charlie came back to Bill’s comatose and broken face, he considered never leaving again. Bill had always been his best friend, his safety in the chaos that was their family. Charlie hugged Fleur and helped her chose her wedding dress. He was Bill’s best man and joked, more than once, that Bill was actually the best man he knew. The three of them got drunk at a pub a few miles from the Burrow and he recalled every embarassing moment of Bill’s childhood. Sometimes, being a good brother is making your sibling blush and hit you in the face as their fiancée is bending in laughter and coughing beer out of her nose.

Charlie wasn’t there when Fred died.

Charlie was there to see his mother cry and his brothers collapse.

Charlie was there to see Ginny stand, tall and proud and clutching Harry’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost.

Sometimes, being a good brother is knowing that there are days when you can’t be the good brother.

Charlie was there when Victoire was born.

Charlie was there to see Bill cry and his siblings scream.

Charlie was there to hold the tiny baby and let her grip his finger.

Charlie was there when Ginny wrote that she was pregnant and wanted to see him. Everytime.

Charlie was there when Fred II asked to learn how to fly and neither George nor Angelina had the heart to teach him.

Charlie was there when Lucy got in another fight with her parents and needed a place to let her anger out. He was also there to bring her back home and make sure she’d apologize to Percy.

Charlie was there when Hugo felt inadequate and lonely in their giant family.

Charlie was there to talk about kissing boys and girls, about how sometimes people liked it and sometimes they just didn’t care.

Charlie was there to give pets as presents, as siblings and in-laws pretended they didn’t know about it.

Charlie was there every step of the way in his nieces and nefews’ lifes.

He quickly needed a larger box to gather all the drawings and pictures he kept receiving. (Hermione gave him an enchanted one)

Sometimes, being a good brother is being a good uncle.

2 minute Mpreg fic

(Written for my dearest @apocatits in a chat somewhere because she’s read all the sterek Mpreg fics already.)


Stiles gets knocked up.

He doesn’t realize it at first, so the baby starts developing, and he gets pretty sick, and all this is happening while Derek is pulling away from him. One wild night does not a relationship make, and Derek fucking Hale thinks he’s too damaged for Stiles. He doesn’t want to be a burden. He doesn’t want that wild night to mean anything, even though it did.

To Stiles.

Also the whole knocked up thing.


Stiles, he’s just a mess, right?
Because he’s barfing and tired all the time, and the guy he thought finally responded to his subtle advances is brushing him off. Like hardcore cold shoulder.

Stiles remembers saying the ‘L’ word that night, amongst some other sappy things you’re probably not supposed to say on your 'first night’ together. But, man, Stiles has been waiting YEARS and Derek fucking Hale finally—he finally… He was saying shit too, you know?

So Stiles doesn’t know what’s going on. He knows he feels like shit, and the guy’s he’s in love with fucked him and abandoned him.

Now, Scott’s dumb as a fucking post. (With love) But even he knows something’s up. Stiles is late to school almost every day (in their senior year, too, which he shouldn’t be because holy shit you’re graduating soon). He’s noticed how pale Stiles has been, the dark circles, the never-ending stench of misery rolling off his friend.

So, he tries to talk to him, but Stiles just laughs it off, shrugs, it’s nothing, Scotty, stop worrying. Everything’s fine.

And he keeps saying that right up until the day he collapses in the driveway of his house. His dad finds him /three hours/ later, when he gets home from work. By then, Stiles is cold, and been unconscious for way too long.

And then it’s all rushing to the hospital, monitors for this and that and what’s wrong with his stomach? What’s that extra heartbeat?

Wtf. Wtf. Wtf.

And his dad is like: Holy shit my son’s been knocked up by an alien because that’s literally the only way I can imagine this happening. That, or there’s a wolf out there with a wolvesbane bullet ready for him.

Which is when Scott calls Derek. Because the dude’s been way too bitchy towards Stiles the last few pack meetings for him not to be involved in this.

So he calls. He screams. He ALPHA screams.

And Derek high-tails his little wolfy ass to the hospital.

Awooo, stupid fucking daddy wolf has arrived.

Meanwhile, Stiles has woken up and feels—surprise!—like shit. Warmed up shit. He’s anemic, and the lack of sleep hasn’t been good for him.

Or the baby.

He’s still slowly processing that little tid-bit of info there. He’ll get to it once he’s done telling Derek fucking Hale to gtfo of his room or so help me, I’ll shove this entire bedpan up your ass and you know it’ll fit BECAUSE YOU ARE A GAPING ASSHOLE.

So Derek kind of scuttles for the waiting room while Stiles is calmed down by a nurse. With drugs.

But the waiting room isn’t exactly safer, because daddy sheriff with a gun and alpha wolf with claws are in there.

And they have questions.
And Derek maybe pees himself a little bit.

But they figure it out. Derek obviously didn’t know, and Sheriff has seen this kid after the fire—he knows how he gets. He’s watched this idiot pull away from people since he was 16, so he knows the signs.

It takes a good talking to, and a little sniffle here or there for them to get it sorted out. Now, all Derek has to do is sort it out with Stiles.

Who eyes the bedpan the moment Derek walks back into his room that night. But, for once in his stupid, skinny life, Stiles listens. Probably because Derek looks wrecked, and happy, and exhausted, and in love all at once.

Also probably because he confirms that last part with words. A few times. Like, a lot. It’s really sappy, and stiles loves it.

Fucking hormones.

In the end, the doctors don’t send him to Area 51 to be cut up by scientists for science, and he’s able to go home.

Home is kind of… A weirdly comfortable mess now, though. Derek’s there, like, living there. He’s doing something secret with his dad to the guest room.

Stiles isn’t a fucking idiot, he knows they’re making it into a baby room. He also knows that Derek is doing the same thing to the second room in his apartment. He’s not an idiot, but he lets them smirk and work together and be proud of themselves. It’s cute, and Stiles is starting to waddle when he walks so he’s not gonna bother making a fuss about shit.

Well, not that shit. Food shit, yes. Many fusses.

So much fussing.

Scott is like… The worst godfather. So annoying. Stiles has threatened to replace him with Peter seven times now.

Each time makes Scott tear up a little, and it’s so worth it.

Stiles gets pickled eggs and sushi for dinner the night before his water breaks. Derek’s there, making disgusted faces at him in silent support of his gross eating habits.

It’s definitely love.

The baby is… Complicated. He gets cut open for that cute little nugget, so he has to stay in the hospital for a little bit.

But baby.

Oh my god.

Stiles is 80% sure he loves her more than Derek, or his dad, or anyone. She’s amazing. She’s what Stiles imagines when people say 'cherub’ or 'little angel’ or 'little demon’, too.

She’s clearly related to him.

Stiles loves it.

He loves Derek with her a little more. Because Derek goes all wide, easy smiles for her. Stupid bunny teeth and bright eyes.

He cries the first time he holds her, and the second time, and the third time. The third time gets her crying, because she has no idea what’s going on, so Stiles tells him to cut it out and it’s fine.

She’s perfect, and Dereks perfect, and Stiles will kill anything that gets in their way.

Derek may be the wolfy wolf of this little family, but Stiles is the mama bear.

And they live happily ever after.

The end.


My Girls | Stiles Stilinski Imagine

request : hi! can you do an imagine where Y/N finds out she is pregnant with Stiles’ baby but they are best friends (not dating) and she has to tell him but is afraid and Stiles freaks out and idk make something beautiful of it. ❤️ thank you xx

a/n : and the award for going overboard with requests goes to… me. ofc. note; the reader and stiles are a little older in this, and allison is alive bc her being alive and happy gives me joy. 

One of your hands kept a firm grip on your cell phone, the other holding your positive pregnancy test. You placed the phone on top of the counter, turning on the speaker option. Allison’s voice rang out over the phone, concerned. “Well? What does it say, Y/N?” You knew Lydia, Kira, and Malia were all crowded around the phone, listening anxiously to your answer, which you sighed out in defeated. 

“It’s positive.” There was silence on both ends, ruptured by Lydia’s sharp intake of breath. “I’m pregnant,” you repeated, more to yourself than to the girls. You could hear them whispering on the other end, telling each other to be quiet in not so hushed voices. You grabbed your phone off the counter, slumping down to the floor and holding your head in your hands. “I have to tell him, don’t I?” 

“Well… yes,” said Kira hesitantly, causing you to groan into your hands. “He won’t take it bad, will he? Stiles isn’t like that. I’m sure everything will be fine,” she reassured you, always the optimist. Then came Malia, voicing your innermost thoughts in her blunt manner as per usual. 

“Or he could flip out and run away screaming.” You heard someone groan loudly, probably Lydia, and then Allison took the phone away from all of three them. “Malia is just joking, Y/N. Everything is going to be perfectly fine. And even if things don’t go exactly as you hope, we’re here for you. Always.” 

“What would I do without you girls?” You wondered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Probably explode,” you told her, earning a laugh on the other end. “Stiles is coming over in a little while, anyway. We were going to hang out. I guess I have to change the plans now, right?” You laughed nervously. 

“It’ll be fine, Y/N,” Allison repeated, and you knew she was smiling comfortingly like she always did even though you couldn’t see her. “Good luck, love you.”

“Love you, too.” You opened the bathroom door after hanging up, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and beginning to freshen up. You did your best to pull off the look that said, ‘No, I wasn’t just flipping the fuck out an hour ago, what are you talking about?’ You washed your face, took deep breaths. 

There was still no way to calm you down. You were pregnant. You were nineteen, you were pregnant with your best friend’s baby, and you had absolutely no idea how he was going to react because he was unpredictable and crazy relatively all of the time. There was a part of you that knew he wouldn’t totally abandon you… but there was another part of you that disagreed. Stiles was almost twenty, you both had your whole life ahead of you, this could ruin everything. You absentmindedly rubbed your hand along your stomach. You didn’t want to give up your baby. 

You heard the sound of keys jingling in the doorway to your apartment. Stiles had his own key, and used it frequently. “Y/N? You didn’t ditch me did ya?” He called, smiling broadly when you walked out of your bedroom. You forced your own smile, hugging him hesitantly. He pulled away slowly, his face scrunched. “What’s wrong? You feeling okay?” His hand still cupping your face, he leaned in unwittingly, examining your expression for any sign of illness. “Are you sick?” 

“No, no, not really,” you replied uneasily, taking his hand in yours and leading him to the couch. He looked thoroughly confused and somewhat alarmed, which was pretty understandable. “I-I just need to, um, you know… tell you something. About me. And you… if you want, of course, I mean… I can’t force you to do anything but you know, um, i-it’s not a big deal. I mean, it is… but, I don’t know-” He gently covered your mouth with his hand, amusement in his eyes. 

“You can tell me anything,” said Stiles. “Is… is it about what happened at Lydia’s party? Listen, it doesn’t have to mean anything… we were drunk, ya know? Really, really drunk. Things happened, but we don’t have to discuss it further. Unless you want to.” 

“I know, but… it did mean something. I didn’t mean for it to mean something, but then other things happened, and now there’s this whole thing…” you trailed off, sighing. He waited patiently, smiling encouragingly at you. “Um… Stiles, I’m, um, I’m pregnant.” 


More silence.

He stood up from the couch, dropping your hand abruptly. He took a step back,  his lips parted slightly. He couldn’t breathe for a second. You were pregnant. Pregnant. With his child. Oh god oh god oh god he couldn’t breathe at all. His throat felt as if it were closing, and it took you a moment to realize what was happening. You pulled him back onto the couch, hands on his face as he continued breathing heavily, brown eyes wide and fearful, his heart pounding in his chest. He was freaking out. You stroked his face soothingly, cooing in a soft whisper. “Hey, hey, Stiles look at me. Look at me, Stiles.” He did. You had never seen him so nervous; at least, for a reason having to do with actual human problems. His breathing slowed slightly, but he still couldn’t talk. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, okay? You- you don’t have to take care of the baby. I understand, all right? I understand if you don’t want the baby… but I do. I’ll raise the baby by myself if I have to, I just thought you had a right to know.” 

He swallowed thickly, his hands shaking still as he answered you. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m going to help you take care of them. It’s just… you know, you’re pregnant. It freaked me out. It’s scary. You know? We’re like, adults, that are going to have a baby.” You laughed shakily, nodding before taking your hands off his face. A small frown appeared on his face at that, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. 

“Yeah, yeah I know. It’s scary. Nerve wracking. But… kind of exciting?” He nodded eagerly as well, smiling. 

“And hey, listen, I’m going to be with you. For everything. We don’t have to pretend to be a couple or anything, not if we don’t feel that way about each other, but I’m still going to be with you. Always. Got it?” 

You sighed in relief, glad you didn’t have to go through this alone. You wrapped your arms around him, your head on his shoulder as he lightly squeezed your waist. He placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Got it.” 

Two Years Later. 

Your daughter sat on the floor, cheerfully playing with the rose petals that sat in the small white wicker basket. She threw them up in the air, giggling loudly when they fluttered all around her tiny body. You crouched down on the floor next to her, white flowers woven in your hair. The little one had a certain innocent fasciation with those flowers that only one years could have. 

“What are you doing, Claudia?” You cooed, chuckling as she blinked up at you with big brown eyes and an adorable little smile. You took her teddy bear out from behind your back, and she snatched it almost immediately, her eyes shining with delight as she gnawed on its ear. “Couldn’t find your bear so you started playing with your flowers, huh?” She nodded slightly, kicking her feet in the air. “You have to save those for the ceremony, Clauds. C’mon, daddy is waiting for us. You remember what to do?” 

“Yes!” She cheered, proudly showing off her use of one of the words in her very limited vocabulary. 

“Good girl!” You grinned, just as you had been doing for that entire day. You weren’t sure if you were going to ever stop smiling. You didn’t think you could. You picked her up, making sure to pick up her little basket and teddy bear in the process. She stuck the bear in the basket, showing you with another proud smile. You walked out of the room, careful not to trip over your excruciatingly long dress. You made your way to your mother, who was waiting for you both and was already tearing up. She held up her camera the moment you walked into the room, snapping a picture with the flash shining directly in your eyes. You winced. “Ma! No pictures unless you give me a warning,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes as Claudia did the same, whining. 

“Let Auntie Lydia see the baby,” Lydia commanded, strutting over to you and Claudia with Allison, Kira, and Malia in tow. They all crowded around you and your daughter, cooing loudly at how adorable she is. “She has Stiles’ eyes, how did I not notice before?” Allison admired, poking Claudia’s cheek, making her giggle. 

“Make sure she doesn’t wander off while doing her job, she kept getting distracted during the rehearsals,” you sighed, shaking your head as you handed her to Lydia. 

“She’s fourteen months old, you seriously expect her to have concentration skills?” Kira laughed, adjusting the baby’s little shoes. Malia helped her steady herself on the floor, fluffing up her dress and handing Claudia the small basket of rose petals. 

“Considering Stiles is her father, I’m not sure if she’ll ever develop those skills,” you smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head. The girls made sure you dress didn’t wrinkle. Your mom walked back in again, a sad smile on her face. “Don’t cry, mom. Really.” 

“I know, I know,” she shushed you, giving you a small hug. “It’s time, though. Scott’s waiting.” You nodded anxiously, and you could hear the music outside beginning to play. You took a deep breath, your best friends and your little girl assembling in a neat formation behind you. Your veil in front of your eyes, bouquet in hand, it was time. 

Scott stood just before the entrance, arm extended to you and a beam on his face. “You ready, Y/N?” He asked, glancing at you. 

“Yeah, definitely.” 

You kept your eyes closed almost the entire time you walked shakily down the aisle. You could hear Claudia giggling wildly as she amiably threw her rose petals around, bouncing up and down as Lydia and Allison tried to keep her quiet. And then, you were up there, under the little archway, and your veil was being lifted up by none other than Stiles Stilinski, the widest smile to ever grace his lips planted firmly on his face, his eyes bright with intense happiness. His face was flushed slightly, but so was yours, and he looked so god damn handsome in his suit and tie that he swore he was never going to wear again after graduation. Claudia was watching you both with fascination, sitting impatiently in the seats with your mom, who was sniffling loudly and obviously. Stiles’ dad was doing the same, rubbing at his eyes constantly. 

Stiles’ groomsmen were all smiling, even Derek. Scott was shamelessly tearing up. Walking the girl he had known his entire life down the aisle so that she could marry his best friend tended to be a little emotional. Just a bit. The entire ceremony went by in a blur, up until the part where Stiles took out his crumpled piece of paper where he had written his vows. He cleared his throat, still beaming at you, but nervously. 

“Y/N, you were always, always my best friend. You and Scott have always been there for me, but of course, I’m not marrying Scott today. I’m marrying you. To be completely honest, I’ve pictured this moment in my head a million times this past year, and never could I have expected it to come so soon. I never always thought of you in this way. A lot of people here today think that I’m only doing this because we have a beautiful daughter. That I feel bad because we weren’t together when you got pregnant. That’s not the case. I fell in love with two years ago, a little after you told me about Claudia, and it wasn’t because you were pregnant. It was because my eyes were open, finally. Realizing that I loved you was like waking up from always being half asleep. It’s like… it’s like I’m awake now. I told you that I would never leave you, or our daughter. Ever. I plan to keep that promise for as long as I can, because I love you both so fucking much- wait, am I allowed to say that? Ignore that, ignore that. Anyways, I love you both so, so much. I hope I can continue to do that for the rest of our lives.” 

“Stupid idiot, always making me cry,” you mumbled, taking his sleeve wiping your eyes on it. He laughed, a few tears running down his own face. A little while later, when you spoke the words “I do,” he kissed you so forcefully, with so much more love and passion poured into it than you had ever felt before. You both forgot you were in public, your hands tangling in his hair before you could stop yourself, the whistles of the crowd echoing in your ears as you were officially declared Y/N Stilinski. 

You felt a sharp tug on your dress, and you broke apart from your husband, red faced. You looked down, lifting little Claudia up in your arms. Stiles grinned, moving forward to wrap an arm around your waist and cup the back of Claudia’s head. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, staring adoringly at her as you stared adoringly at him. “Hi, my princess,” he murmured to her, kissing her gently on the forehead. He looked back up at you, at the ring on your finger, savoring the thought of you as being Mrs. Stilinski for a lifetime. God, he loved the sound of that. It was just him, you, and Claudia. His girls. 

He never wanted that to change. 

anonymous asked:

Would you mind adding Roadhog to the soulmate react? If that's okay. By the way, I love how you write, and it helps me feel a lot more comfortable with reactions. Most are so female dominant and orientated, that it causes me dysmorphia to act up. And as someone who is forced to act female even though I'm trans-male, it isn't fun. Thanks for setting up this blog and sharing your work. It really brightens my day.

Thank you so much, anon. I’m really happy you enjoy my imagines!

So, without further ado, I have to say …

Boy, this Soulmate AU turned out to be way popular! Thank you all so much for liking it and requesting more, it’s really made my week!

Here are links to the first parts:
[Part 1] with Reaper, Junkrat, Hanzo, and Zenyatta
[Part 2] with Soldier 76, McCree, and Widowmaker
[Part 3] with Genji, Reinhardt, and Ana Amari

and now Part 4 with Lúcio, Mei, D.Va, Roadhog, Winston, and Zarya!

I will do the rest (Tracer, Mercy, Symmetra, Pharah, Torbjörn, and Bastion) tomorrow, the day after at the latest :)

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VOGUE: 73 Questions with Taylor Swift
  • Interviewer: What's keeping you busy these days?
  • Taylor Swift: I'm just working out and getting ready for Grammys.
  • Q: What's the most exciting thing in life right now?
  • A: Grammys.
  • Q: What are you completely bored of in life right now?
  • A: Click bait.
  • Q: What is something that recently moved you?
  • A: The movie The Martian.
  • Q: How many guitars do you own?
  • A: I lost track of that in probably 2007.
  • Q: What's the first song you learn to play on guitar?
  • A: Kiss me by Sixpence None The Richer.
  • Q: What's the first thing you do when you get an idea for a song?
  • A: I record a voice memo of myself singing it or I write it down on my notes.
  • Q: What's your songwriting process?
  • A: Lots of preparations. I write a lot of my ideas down before I get to the actual session.
  • Q: What song took you the least amount of time to write?
  • A: Blank Space, because I've written a lot of the lines down already in the year preceding the session.
  • Q: Which one took you the longest?
  • A: All Too Well, because it's really an emotional song and I kept putting it down for months.
  • Q: Is this the room where you keep all your awards?
  • A: No, they're kind of everywhere.
  • Q: Who is your favorite teacher?
  • A: My guitar player, Paul Sidoti teaches me a lot on the road about piano and guitar.
  • Q: If you could teach one subject in school, what would it be
  • A: English.
  • Q: What's your favorite beverage?
  • A: Coffee.
  • Q: What's your favorite cocktail?
  • A: Vodka and Diet Coke.
  • Q: What's your favorite food?
  • A: If we're just saying like, what I wish I could eat everyday, if calories didn't count, is chicken tenders.
  • Q: What would you order at a drive-through?
  • A: Cheese burger, fries, and chocolate shake.
  • Q: What was the best birthday cake you'd ever had?
  • A: It was from Milk bar. It was from my 25th birthday. It was so good that even Jay-Z rave about it.
  • Q: What was the last thing you bake?
  • A: A gluten-free, dairy-free chocolate cake.
  • Q: What one thing do you need to have in your fridge at any given time?
  • A: Hummus, weirdly.
  • Q: What one thing you still have from your childhood?
  • A: My insecurities.
  • Q: What's your favorite TV show of all time?
  • A: Friends.
  • Q: Favorite TV show that currently on the air?
  • A: Dateline.
  • Q: What is your favorite movie?
  • A: Love Actually.
  • Q: What was the movie that made you cry your eyes out?
  • A: The Martian.
  • Q: Why do you think you're the most followed person in Instagram?
  • A: Because my cats are adorable!
  • Q: Have you ever googled yourself?
  • A: Yeah.
  • Q: What do you think when you google yourself?
  • A: I think you should never google yourself again.
  • Q: If you have a superpower, what would it be?
  • A: Healing people.
  • Q: If you are not a singer, what would you be doing?
  • A: Might be in advertising. Maybe like coming up with slogans and concepts is the same as hooks and songs.
  • Q: Can you show me a really cool or bizarre talent?
  • A: I'm well aware that this is not a talent but this is the only thing I can do. I have a double-jointed elbows. They're weird.
  • Q: What's something you can't do?
  • A: I can't do a cartwheel or a handstand.
  • Q: What's the best compliment you've ever received?
  • A: That I'm generous.
  • Q: What's the best gift you've ever received?
  • A: My boyfriend planted an olive tree in my yard for Christmas.
  • Q: What's one habit you wish you could break?
  • A: When I'm sitting, usually I just do this with my leg *shakes leg* and people think that I'm nervous and then they get nervous then everybody is nervous.
  • Q: Do you have any nicknames?
  • A: Yeah. My brother calls me Teffy.
  • Q: What's surprises you the most about people?
  • A: I'm pleasantly surprised by the fact that I tell my friends absolutely everything and it never ends up getting out.
  • Q: What makes you laugh no matter what?
  • A: Kevin Hart.
  • Q: What does creativity mean to you?
  • A: Creativity is getting inspiration and having that lightning bolt idea moment and then having the hard work ethic to sit down at the desk and write it down.
  • Q: I found out that Nicole Kidman swim with sharks. What's the most adventurous thing you've ever done?
  • A: Watching Shark week.
  • Q: What's your favorite lyrics of all time?
  • A: I had some dreams / they were clouds in my coffee
  • from You're So Vain by Carly Simon.
  • Q: What one song you wish you had written?
  • A: The Friends theme song because those were royalties.
  • Q: What's the great fan moment that comes to mind?
  • A: I'll be driving down the street and I'll see a kid walking down the street with my shirt on from my tour and Ill just stop my car and say "Hey, Nice Shirt!"
  • Q: Most memorable career moment so far?
  • A: I think filming the Bad Blood video was my favorite memory.
  • Q: What's one accomplishment you're most proud of?
  • A: My grammys.
  • Q: What's something you've always wanted to try but you are too scared to do?
  • A: Oh, Coachella.
  • Q: What's your spirit animal?
  • A: A dolphin because they are very social. They travel in groups.
  • Random guy: My wife and I's anniversary is coming up, where should I take her?
  • A: Congratulations and you should take her to Big Sur.
  • Interviewer: What advice would you give to anyone who wants to become a singer?
  • A: Get a good lawyer.
  • Q: Any pre-show rituals?
  • A: I stretch. I warm up my voice. Then my band and the dancers and I get in a huddle and it's just good vibes.
  • Q: What's the most difficult song to perform on stage and why?A: This song I wrote called The Best Day that is about my mom. It's just hard to sing because it makes me so emotional.
  • Q: How many cats are in this room?
  • A: Probably more than 10, and I don't know if you're counting the one that's alive down there.
  • Q: If you were a cat, would you get along with your cat?
  • A: Probably not. They would probably not think I'm cool.
  • Q: How many cat breeds can you name in 10 seconds?
  • A: British Shorthair, Scottish Fold, Himalayan, Exotic Shorthair, Exotic Longhiar, Sphnyx cat, Munchkin, uh...Siamese. Um..the..the... *times up* I can do so much better than that.
  • Q: What's the coolest thing in this room?
  • A: The coolest thing in this room I think is the fireplace.
  • Q: If you could raid one woman's closet, who would it be?
  • A: Blake Lively.
  • Q: What's your favorite fashion trend of all time?
  • A: High-waisted stuff.
  • Q: Besides your phone and wallet, what's the couple must have items?
  • A: I have this lavender anti bacterial hand spray. Whenever me and my friends are in a public bathroom, we have to wait in line at the sink to wash our hands. I'm like, "No! check it out" *makes spraying sounds* and everybody was like, "Thanks girl!"
  • Q: Can you tell me what you'd be wearing to this year's Met gala?
  • A: I'm going to be dress as a robot and I'm gonna carry a sword.
  • Q: My little cousin Julia wants to know, what did you want to do with your life at age 5?
  • A: When I was 5, I knew that my dad was a stockbroker but I did not know what a stockbroker was yet I walk around telling people "I'm gonna be a stockbroker when I grow up."
  • Q: What's the one thing you wish you knew at 19?
  • A: If I could talk to my 19-year-old self, I’d say, hey you know, you’re gonna date just like a normal 20-something should be allowed to, but you’re going to be a national lightning rod for slut shaming.
  • Q: What's something you will not be doing in 10 years?
  • A: I'll be 36. I really hope that I'm not stressed about the idea of approaching 40. I hope that aging is not something that really freaks me out.
  • Q: What do you think is the most important life lesson for someone to learn?
  • A: Karma is real.
  • Q: What can you say in other language?
  • A: I can count to ten in German *counts from one to ten in German*
  • Q: What do you love most about the town where you grew up with?
  • A: I grew up on Wyomissing, Pennsylvania and I like the fact that it has a lot of historic buildings.
  • Q: What's the bravest thing you've ever done?
  • A: Writing the Apple Music letter.
  • Q: Most spontaneous thing you've ever done?
  • A: Writing the Apple Music letter.
  • Q: What's one goal you are determined to achieve in your life time?
  • A: I really want an honorary doctorate degree because Ed Sheeran has one and I feel like he looks down on me now because I don't have one.
  • Q: What is your favorite scented candle?
  • A: Byredo Tree House.

anonymous asked:

Hey hey! I'm the Anon who asked for Bats and JL! Honestly thanks for being so honest about it! And not just ignoring me! But for a different request can you just do BatFam angst/fluff? You choose who to torture! I trust you! 😊

Ignore an ask? Never. I might take forever to answer one, but I’d never leave one out in the void. Your welcome, and thanks for being so understanding. I love to answer asks, but sometimes I just don’t have the right skill set (in that case comfortable, working, knowledge of the JL)

BatFam angst/fluff coming up, I hope you enjoy it. 

This one’s inspired by one of @oh-mother-of-darkness recent headcannons/thoughts on how the Batfam reacts to having to patch each other up. I read it and couldn’t get the idea of Tim freaking out over Damian being hurt out of my head, and since it was angsty I thought it would be perfect. 

I have to give a quick shout out to Amy for all her amazing Batfam headcannons and thoughts, thanks for always sharing things that make me laugh and cry, and inspire me so much.

Tiny. It was the word that kept coming to mind when Tim tried to decide how Damian looked laid out on the operating table. Tiny, and helpless. So opposite of how he always was. For someone so small Damian’s presence was always large, in your face, and usually the last thing Tim cared to deal with, but today it wasn’t there. Today it was hidden beneath a mask of pain and blood.

It wasn’t how small his brother looked that was making his hands shake as he struggled to hold the compress to Damian’s side, neither was it the blood, or his own lack of sleep. No, the thing that was making Tim’s hands shake, was how helpless his brother looked. Damian was never helpless. He was angry, and fierce, he was proud, and overly confident. Even injured he never stopped.

This Damian? The one laid out in front of him, he wasn’t the same one Tim knew. He was used to seeing Damian’s dark features reddened with anger, not washed out to a sickly pale color; used to his eyes being fierce, not squeezed shut against the pain in his side; and his voice sharp and confident, not stolen by rasping breaths.

Seeing him that way caused a bubble of panic to rise in Tim’s stomach. Damian couldn’t be in this condition, he couldn’t. He had to be fine, that way he could yell at Tim over nothing, and start petty fights over things like who ate the last frozen waffle or who got to control the remote.

Damian had to be ok, because Tim couldn’t lose him again.

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beginners chapter 10

[korra and asami at university, or: asami is a little bit of a lonely genius and korra is a bad ass soccer player, and sometimes terrible things happen, but they’re really very in love with each other.

chapter 10, or: asami & senna have some bonding time.  // ao3.]


hey mama, won’t you come down (to the river,  to wait, to be)


wash my hair, like you wash my hair / for years & years / i’m going to wait / there’s a man that i know / & i think he loves me so / finally i’m going to wait
—sylvan esso, ‘come down’


You don’t really have any idea what she’s talking about, but Jinora is trying really hard not to laugh. She’s sitting cross-legged on the end of Asami’s bed, and Asami is in one of your university women’s soccer t-shirts and a pair of boxers—she’d insisted she get to wear something other than a hospital gown, and this is day four after her accident, so the nurses let her. She gets to go home tomorrow, and you’re actually really excited, because it turns out your mom has a little paid time off work, and when she’d offered to come up to help take care of Asami for a week while you went back to school and Asami stayed at home, you were super touched and super happy. Despite the fact that you’re pretty sure Asami will tell her something about sex, because on pain meds she talks about that a lot. Her dose is going down, so you just kind of hope that helps and she doesn’t say anything to explicit.

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may we meet again.

three times they aren’t reunited, and one time they are

Clarke has never been the religious type, has never believed in some deity in the sky – she’s touched the stars alright, seen them from up close, and saw nothing but the infinity of the universe in front of her. No guardian angel, no bigger-than-thou entity to watch her back. Clarke isn’t the religious type, but she finds herself praying, with all her mind and all her soul, as the door of the dropship opens in front of her.

She prays for her people, for the one who couldn’t make it on time before the explosion. She prays for Finn and Bellamy, for the roguish grin he will offer her with some sarcastic quip that will make her roll her eyes. She prays, body and soul, because she has already too much blood on her hands and doesn’t know how she could survive knowing she killed them, knowing she was the one behind their death.

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This is dedicated to superwhopotterjohnlock & queermarauders who both guessed whose POV it was from. It’s canon-verse OOTP era. 

Grimmauld place after midnight was even more of an unwelcoming place than it was during the day. Shadows were everywhere, hiding old magic Hermione didn’t even want to think about. The one positive point was that at least the portraits were sleeping now, so there was no one threatening to pull her nails out for “tainting” the house. She carefully jumped over the step on the bottom of the stairs that creaked, and made her way towards the kitchen. She’d spend most of the evening reading, and simply hadn’t been able to stop until her cup of tea had gone cold after already having reheated it a couple of times. She hadn’t expected anyone to be awake still - Mrs. Weasley had loudly suggested everyone catch an early night - yet the light in the kitchen was still on, a couple beams peeking through the crack of the door. Hermione sighed, and was about to turn around and go back upstairs, giving up her quest for tea, when she recognised one of the voices as Professor Lupin’s. No-longer-professor Lupin.

“I don’t know why you insist on baking a cake.”

There was a deep huff, more suitable for an animal than an actual human, which Hermione recognised as Sirius’. “I baked a cake for his first birthday, you know.”

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  • Luke: You and Luke were having what you could call a peaceful evening. You were quietly reading a book in the couch, while he was playing some chords in his gutiar - writing a new song, you suspected. Suddenly, the room was silent. At first, you didn't make much of it. But then you remembered: wasn't Luke playing the guitar? You looked up to the spot where he was seated, seeing only the instrument in his place. "Luke?", you asked, looking around. "Lucas", you tried again, not in the mood for his jokes and way too interested in getting back to your book. "And the predator strikes the prey", you heard his voice. "What the f-", you weren't even able to finish your phrase as Luke jumped from somewhere behind you. Suddenly, he was tickling you everywhere, laughter and cursing filled the once peaceful room. "Luke! Stop it!", you said in between laughs, "I'm laughing but I don't like it!". "And that's what makes it so fun", he smirked devishly. "It's not going to be fun anymore when I wet my pants!", you yelled and he abruptly stopped tickling you, moving away as if you had a contagious disease. "Ew", he said. "That's for you to learn never to tickle me that way again", you smiled proudly, returning to your book.
  • Ashton: "Is dinner ready yet?", the only thing missing was for Ashton to call you 'mom', 'cause his behavior was definitely as if you were his. "Ashton, you just walked in here five minutes ago asking this", you rolled your eyes, "It's not ready yet". "But I'm hungry!", he whined. "And I'm tired", you let out a small laugh. Ever heard of the expression 'laugh not to cry'? Yeah, that was how you were feeling. "Now, I know of something that can cheer you up", you heard Ashton's voice coming closer to you. At first, you had only one thought in your mind: kitchen sex. But it was far from that. You felt a hand creeping up your sides, but not in the sexy way it usually does when Ashton's trying to seduce. In fact, it looked a lot more like the way he did when he was trying to - "Ashton no!", you stopped in your thoughts to protest. But it was too late. Suddenly, Ashton had pinned up your hands and was tickling you insanely, dinner long forgotten. "Ashton, for God's sake stop!", you laughed loudly. "But look, you're smiling!", he smiled proud of himself. "As soon as I get out of here you're going to suffer the consequences!", you yelled. "Uh, feisty. I like that", he winked, letting you go and running away, only to be chased by you.
  • Michael: "(Y/N)", you heard a calm voice, "Wake up". This can't be Michael, you thought. There's no way Michael would wake up first and be in such a good mood in the morning. "(Y/N)", the voice said again. Out of the blue, you felt something on your sides and you started to laugh. Damn it. That's definetly Michael. "Michael!", you screamed, opening your eyes. "Good morning, babe", he smirked, hair all messy. He looked like a sex God and you would totally make a move right now if you weren't too busy laughing and being tickled. "Michael!", you said again in a warning voice. This is a really efficient way of waking you up!", he smiled, "I was calling your name for about five minutes and you weren't even moving". "Michael, stop!", you laughed. "Tsk, tsk", he said, "Now, where are your manners, (Y/N)?". In any other occasion, the way he said that would've made gosebumps rise all over your skin. But at the moment, you were so pissed off that you could only think of one thing: revenge. "Michael, please stop it!", you begged. "See? All you needed to do was ask", he smiled, slwoly letting you go. "Oh really?", you asked, jumping on his back and pushing him ack on to the bed, "My turn".
  • Calum: You and Calum were talking to some fans outside your hotel, being the lovable couple you were. At one point, you separeted and went to talk to different groups. The conversations, though, were going the same way. "Yeah, he's everything you imagine him to be as a boyfriend", you admit, looking down smiling. "Aww", the fans say, which equals the 'aww' the fans on the group Calum was talking to had said. "Okay, keep pretending I'm saying sweet stuffs", he said, and the fans bit back their laughs and awed again. "You're filming, right?", they nodded again, "Okay, so, (Y/N)'s really ticklish and I'm going to tickle her now. In front of everyone. Hopefully she'll still date me after this". You kept talking to the fans, 'till suddenly their eyes went wide. "What?", you asked. "Hey, babe", you heard Calum's voice in your ear. Before you could even react, he was already tickling your sides and you were lost in laughter. "Holy fuck, Calum", you said a little too loudly for your liking, "Stop it!". "Smile for the cameras, babe", he said, not tickling you anymore and hugging you from behind. Suddenly, the girl with the camera was right in front of you. "Calum Thomas Hood!", you started to lecture him, "You've started a war and you're so dead". And those were your final words before the tickle war started in front of all the fans.

anonymous asked:

hey i'm searching for a post and i'm like 99.9% sure you had it linked somewhere on your blog. it was a post someone wrote about how at a con Mishas answer to something triggered her and she wrote him a letter about it, gave it to him and he read it later on and apologized to her. i've been searching for the post for days now by myself but I can't find it anymore so I thought i'd ask.

I know that feel because I have gone on the same search for the same post several times myself with the same results. I’ve got all kind of iterations of “misha triggered letter fan” in my Google history now, and that’s one reason I added the links in this post because I kept forgetting to save the link to it.

It’s this post here.

LA Wilson (wileea) wrote the posts in this context:

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based off of jet lag (ft. natasha bedingfield) by simple plan

pic credit

[ more ]

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Fic: We Can Dance if We Want To (We’ve Got All Your Life and Mine) Pt II

(Pt I)

Fandom: The 100

Pairings: Kabby, Javen, Bellarke, Linctavia, mention of Monty/Harper.

Word Count: 6092

(A/N: Guys… what have I done? Altogether this is nearly 10,000 words of total fluff. What is my life?)


She couldn’t say the moonshine was smooth (was it ever?) but each sip seemed to go down a little easier and warmed her inside. Unless that feeling was because of the man stood next to her, pressed against her side. Abby wondered,fighting the urge to giggle, when he’d work up the courage to put his arm around her. It really was quite funny, the things they could do to each other in the privacy of their own room, their own bed, yet still continue this dance of flitting around each other in public, all lingering glances and brushes of hands.

Everyone knew about them, and Abby was sure they were all no doubt amused by their shyness. They weren’t shy, Abby told herself, not so subtly looking Marcus up and down. Oh no, Marcus Kane was definitely not shy with her anymore, and maybe if they weren’t co-leaders of Skaikru they wouldn’t feel the need to be so reserved, so intent on putting their roles and responsibilities first. Which is why tonight, Abby thought, nursing her glass (she could have sworn she’d drank more than that?), could be their reprieve.

Perhaps Marcus had the same train of thought, because he snaked the arm that had been squeezed between them around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Abby steadied herself against his chest and looked up to see happiness and contentment in his smile.

“This was a great idea.” He nodded out back in the direction of the dance floor where their people (mostly the teens) moved and jumped and spun, laughing or shouting the lyrics at each other. “They look free.”

Abby looked at Clarke, smiling and dancing with Bellamy, Raven, Monty, Harper, Brian and Miller. Every now and then all of them would turn and point and sing to Jasper, dancing alone at the DJ stand. Abby felt emotion swell in her chest to see her daughter’s smile again, to see her long blonde hair flipping around as she bobbed her head, sometimes closing her eyes and giving herself entirely to the music. Marcus was right, she was free.

Though Octavia and Lincoln seemed to be taking liberties with the amount of freedom granted to them all tonight.  

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Does anyone else remember those WW2 Sherlolly love letters I wrote after Benedict Cumberbatch and Louise Brealey’s appearance at Letters Live this year? Yeah… I may have written a third part. I’m not even going to try and justify myself.

Part I | Part II

Dear Molly,

So I’ve done it—I’ve written to my brother. His reply was as swift as I expected it would be, but lengthier too. It seems he has ‘got wind’ of the development of our relationship, Molly and is thoroughly enjoying himself teasing me about it. Such an insufferable man. I know that I’ve said it many a time before, but he is a rubbish big brother. Yet strings have been pulled, and Mycroft’s letter serves as proof that I shall be with you, in London, in Baker Street, in three months’ time. It may be a small sliver of hope for you, but as you say, letter writing is a luxury, even though you wouldn’t think it, with the speed with which John writes his letters to Mary and the reams of paper he uses; I sneaked a look at one of them. The man writes poetry to her, Molly. Poetry. If I ever make one request to you Molly, during this time, it would be to never ask me to write you poetry. I would struggle, and you would laugh and neither of us would be fully satisfied.

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