it's not your birthday anymore but happy birthday

i hope louis is surrounded by infinite amounts of love on his birthday and i hope that he feels happy and proud and appreciated and just so so so so loved because he is……he’s so fucking loved, he’s loved by his mom even if she’s not here physically anymore, he’s loved by his siblings, the rest of his family, his boyfriend, his bandmates, his friends, and his millions of fans all around the world. i know this is going to be such a hard birthday for him, but i hope he feels that warmth radiating all around him because he deserves it more than anyone. we’re so so so lucky that he was brought into this world 25 years ago and i’m just so glad that he’s out there existing and i’m so grateful to be his fan.

happy birthday, louis.

Path Less Traveled

Happy birthday to the amazing, incredible, wonderful @pahndah! Kayla, you are seriously one of the nicest and most understanding people in this fandom, going above and beyond for anyone whose path you cross. And on top of all of that, you are one of the most creative. I am constantly floored by your art, your writing, and your amazing ideas (and loving every minute of it).

Thank you for being an incredibly amazing person and friend, and I hope you had a wonderful birthday <3


This little ficlet is dedicated to Kayla and is based on this incredible piece of artwork of hers. 

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A/N: For my darling Chinx (seastarved) on the occasion of her birth. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I wrote you a thing because it’s (only mildly) easier than mailing myself to India. Go eat some cake my sociopathic runaway wannabe.

The pestilence was a curse, the quarantine was condemnation, but it was the way that the sickness burst through the doors of the orphanage – the only place that she had ever called home – that really changed Emma’s life.

CS Plague AU

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Death Walks Behind You

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Emma thought it would be impossible to predict whether the first day or the last would be the worst.

One was laden in chaos – the scrambling of families and children, the begging and pleading as at the crack of almost dawn soldiers came to their streets. They came with wooden barriers, several men high and who knew how thick, dragged and lodged into place in amongst violent protests, swords snagging anyone who tried to get through. Emma watched it all as though it were happening in slow motion; people moved slowly in the shock of it, movements playing catch up to their thoughts, too distracted with the sinking of their stomachs.

They were still blinking away sleep.

And it was loud. The shouts and cries so loud and desperate that it all became white noise, too much blaring in her ears to handle.

They came with death warrants, disguised as planks of wood.

It was a quarantine.

The word was almost as quick to say as it was to enact, almost as quick to enact as it was to understand.

Nothing was quicker than the panic and the way dread took up residence.

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