love in the time of scurvy

KnightRook Headcannons

Feel free to add your own! I’ve… been thinking a lot about these two. It’s gotten weird now, I know…


She loves orange marmalade because it’s the first sweet he ever made for her, and consistently makes, because it keeps well in storage and is good to guard against scurvy—all from his experience as a sailor. They’ve gotten into a regular schedule where Smee will send them the oranges and Alice will help her papa prepare for the next six months’ worth of jars. 

By the time she’s sixteen she knows how to navigate around dozens of worlds, even without having left the confines of her tower, thanks to her education. By the time she’s escaped her tower, she’s able to fend for herself thanks to her unconventional homeschool education. 

Speaking of education, Killian has stressed teaching her everything he knows so she is prepared for any sort of world she’s able to enter once the curse breaks. Once he runs out of things to teach her, he finds books of all sorts for them to learn together. She can speak at least three languages, read nautical maps of dozens of worlds, navigate by stars for those same worlds, sword fight, cook meals that will keep well over time, and knows how to dance a few basic dances if she were ever asked to a ball. After all, she was raised with the right partner. 

He’s strict when it comes to tidiness. They have a small space and it can feel so much more cramped when clutter is thrown around. He’s noticed over the years how much her mood changes when she feels cramped, so he does what he can to make her living area feel as large as possible. When she was little he turned cleaning into a game where her toy bin was a kraken and they were trying to feed it as fast as possible to keep it from devouring their ship. She usually ended up running into things in a klutzy rush during that game and descended into giggles, and no amount of his “good form” captain side could feel frustrated at the collapse of order in his ranks. 

Do Kyungsoo//The Singing Siren


Summary: You’re a mermaid with a longing to understand the pirates that roam your waters, and he’s a captive sent to your cove to find the treasure that lies in the heart of your island. You know where it is, but why would you tell him? ft. Johnny Seo
Scenario: mermaid!AU/pirate!AU
Word Count: 8, 736

Keep reading

A little drabble inspired by @ripplestitchskein… and also beacuse I would love to have Blackbeard in Storybrooke.


“If it isn’t the glorified canon fodder!”

Killian heard the bane of his existence before he saw him. He’d entered Granny’s with the hope of having a quiet drink before heading home, hoping it gave Emma’s mother enough time to pack up her monstrous wedding planning folder and leave them in peace. He should have known he wouldn’t be so lucky.

Killian swiveled in his stool to face the man occupying the booth near the back of the diner.

“I see you’re still amongst the living. How unfortunate.” Killian snarked as he made his way over to sit himself opposite him.

“I thought I’d try to find the appeal of this hideous town and I’ve got to tell you, Hook. I’m coming up short.”

“No surprise there. You always were on the lacking side.”

“Says the pirate incapable of holding onto his treasure.”

Granny appeared with two glasses and a bottle of rum, placing them wordlessly onto the table before disappearing again.

“That depends on your definition of treasure.” Killian poured them each a generous serving.

“Remind me. How many times now have you lost your ship to me?” Blackbeard asked smugly.

“Enough times to know I always end up getting her back.”

“Is that a wager I sense, Hook?”

“You sure you’ve got the knack for it? You’re looking rather down and out, mate.”

Blackbeard’s eyes bored into him before smirking.

“Cards or dice?”

“Whichever you feel more confident in. I’ll be winning either way.”

“Strong words from such a weak pirate.” Blackbeard taunted as he pulled two dice from his pocket.

“You’re not going to throw a child’s tantrum once I wipe the floor with you, are you?”

“If it’s a duel you’re after, I’ll be happy to splay your defeated carcass out on this strangely tiled floor, just say the word.”

Killian chuckled with fire in his eyes; a spark of that old bloodthirsty villain within rising to the man’s bait.

“Just roll the damn dice, old man.”


Emma heard the loud, boisterous and off-key bellows of their duet as she trudged across the wooden deck to the water’s edge, looming over their seated silhouette’s observing the tide in the darkness.

“Ah! There she is. The love of my life. My beautiful Swan.” Killian greeted her drunkenly.

“So this is the Mrs?”

“Uh… hi?” Emma greeted, confused as to who the hell Killian was with.

“Emma, love. This horrid sight is Blackbeard.”

“Wait.. the Blackbeard? He’s not like… some weird uncle of yours or something, is he?’”

“Not a chance!”  

“Me?! Related to that mongrel?!” Both men objected at her question with vigour.

“So you’re the woman this pathetic sailor lost his ship to me twice for. She’s a sight to behold, I’ll give you that, Hook.”

“Show some respect.” Killian growled.

Blackbeard turned back to a confused Emma with a sloppy smirk, failing in his attempts to look seductive.

“Darling, if it’s a real pirate you wanted, I’d be more than happy to grant you the experience of a night with a true Captain.”

“I will throw you into the water, don’t tempt me.” Killian warned, humour gone from his features.

“Sorry but I like my pirates clean, dashing and in their prime.” Emma threw back at the man.

Blackbeard surprised them both by letting out a guttural laugh, slapping Killian’s knee in the process.

“She’s fantastic!”

“She is also very cold and wanting to go home. Come on, Killian. Let’s get you back.”

Killian agreed as he wrestled himself into a standing position and wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulders.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare bunk for me to bed down on for the night?”

“Your barnacle encrusted backside is coming nowhere near our home.”

“Ah yes. I forgot. You traded the sea for bricks and mortar. Probably for the best then. Only a true seaman can sleep soundly with the rocking of the waves.”

“Try not to drown, old man.” Killian left him as he and Emma turned from the docks and headed home.


It was two days later when the couple crossed paths with Blackbeard again as they headed down main street.

“I thought I could smell a traitor.”

“Why are you still breathing? I’d have thought you’d have keeled over by now.”

“Oh, the first of us to go will be you considering how soft you’ve gotten. I’d offer to do it now but I don’t want your yellow bellied innards soiling my sword.”

“Say the word, Blackbeard. I’ll happily put you out of your misery like the tired old sea-dog you are.”

“You keep dreaming big, Hook.” Blackbeard turned and began to walk away as if their presence wasn’t worth his time.

“You’re on borrowed time, remember that!”

Killian muttered curses about the ‘scurvy riddled cretin’ as he turned back to an open mouthed Emma.

“I don’t get it. You two were making with the singing and drunken antics the other night. What happened?”

“It’s a pirate thing, love. It’s just the way it is.” He explained, rather embarrassed.

Emma shook her head, not understand the strange relationship her fiancé held with the other notorious pirate in town one bit.

56 things about James Potter

Since it is the birthday of the biggest nerd to ever exist, here are 56 facts to represent 56 years since the birth of our favorite stag 

  1. he has so much nervous energy, he constantly is shaking his leg during class or flipping his quill through his fingers 
  2. every photograph of him from before age 11 has his hair slicked to the side (thanks to copious amounts of Sleekeazy) and to this day just the scent of his fathers potion makes him gag
  3. in fourth year he decided that he looked better without glasses and for two months walked around hogwarts essentially blind. sirius was his guide. 
  4. in fourth year james broke his ankle tripping down stairs. 
  5. james refuses to say that not wearing glasses and breaking his ankle were related in anyway whatsoever 
  6. he constantly cracks his knuckles. 
  7. when james was young, he made a friend with a muggle child at the park. he really, really wanted them to go to hogwarts together so he kept on trying to teach them magic 
  8. it didn’t succeed and on the day before james left for hogwarts he went to the park and said goodbye 
  9. he cried for hours after
  10. he snores like a freight-train 
  11. his handwriting is incredibly messy, in part because his hand cant keep up with his mind, but mainly because he thinks his sloppy handwriting looks cool 
  12. he tucks his hand into his fists when he punches 
  13. bc of this he’s broken his thumbs more times than he can count so hes gotten really good at basic healing spells 
  14. but his thumbs still look a bit wonky regardless 
  15. he has random freckles on his collarbone, left knee and on the back of both of his hands
  16. each year he thinks of a new ‘cool’ catchphrase that he thinks will 100% catch on 
  17. it literally never does 
  18. the summer before 6th year he and sirius constantly hung around near muggle shops to learn about muggle fashion 
  19. sirius wanted to piss of his family, james wanted to impress lily 
  20. he had a lisp up until he was ten. he had a hard time with his ‘th’ sounds. 
  21. in fifth year he announced he wasn’t going to cut his hair until either…
  22. A. the gryffindors lost a quidditch match 
  23. or B. they won the house cup 
  24. the gryffindors never lost a match, and so his hair ended up resembling that of a lions mane (he liked to pretend he was a real-life mascot for the team instead of a 15 year old with wild, ungroomed hair) 
  25. when they won the house cup it was sirius who cut it off
  26. which was a bad decision bc sirius was drunk and delirious (both from winning and from getting a bludger to the head) 
  27. it ended up with james having fifty more cowlicks than he already had and patches of hair altogether missing from his scalp 
  28. he, of course, wore this haircut with pride bc it meant that gryffindor had won the bloody cup 
  29. he lowkey slept with his stuffed lion until he was 13 
  30. even then he always had him under his bed up until harry was born, he then passed down the raggedy old thing to him 
  31. he doesnt trust horses tbh their eyes are too human-like for him to feel comfortable around them 
  32. he has a small gap between his two front teeth. you cant notice it from far away, but up close you can tell he definitely has one 
  33. sirius and james pretty much shared a bed the first three years at hogwarts. sirius had really bad night terrors, and james had always wanted a younger brother to protect so it worked out well 
  34. he proposed to lily after a battle. they had lost ten people in under two hours. he didnt have a ring, but it didnt matter 
  35. the next day he “properly” proposed in their flat (it was really james’ and sirius’ flat but lily essentially lived there now). he gave her his mother’s engagement ring. he transfigured the diamond to take the shape of a lily
  36. in second year sirius bet that james couldnt live off of a diet of strictly chocolate frogs. 
  37. james took the challenge but ended up in the hospital wing a month and a half later with scurvy 
  38. from second year on he would always consciously change the pitch of his voice whenever he knew lily was in ear shot 
  39. it was only in the beginning of 7th year when she got drunk in the head common room with him did his tone accidentally slip back to normal 
  40. this is also the night he had his first kiss with lily, because she realized what he had been doing all this time and how ridiculous it was and how ridiculous he was and how ridiculously in love she was with him. 
  41. james would always throw the invisibility cloak over himself in the ultimate game of peek-a-boo with harry 
  42. it was great until harry started to become mobile and pull the cloak over himself, ending up in a four hour search for an infant who had fallen asleep under a sheet of invisibility 
  43. his shoes are ALWAYS untied 
  44. when he starts talking about something he feels passionately about, his voice automatically gets louder and louder until he either finishes his point or his throat goes hoarse 
  45. james’ first word was “uh-oh” 
  46. he is obsessed with qudditch. he would have practices at night because he thought other teams would spy on them and practices would last 6 hours or more. like he honestly made oliver wood look like a casual fan 
  47. before 6th year he and sirius got tattoos. 
  48. james got antlers smack dab in the middle of his back, while sirius got dog prints leading down his lower back 
  49. they were both 10000% sober and not at all drunk nope not at all 
  50. they didnt realize they actually had tattoos until a few days later when they were practicing quidditch in the potter’s backyard. they had both taken off their shirts to bc it was august and hot and ‘oh my god, padfoot you’ve got a tramp stamp’
  51. james was really short up until the summer before fourth year when he shot up like a foot in a half 
  52. it took him until he was 18 to actually get used to his height and not trip over his own gangly limbs 
  53. 6th year was the official “james potter is convinced he is john lennon” year. lily never admitted it but john lennon had always been her favorite beatle. 
  54. he never seems to get cold?? it would be the middle of winter and he would be in hogsmeade with a light-weight robe on while everyone else had on like four layers of wool. 
  55. he had a really bad habit of flipping his wand in his hand. most of the time it was fine, but one time he accidentally set a first year’s uniform on fire. 
  56. james died with bloody knuckles, he may not have had his wand but he refused to die without a fight. 

mychakk  asked:

For The Halloween sentence thingy: “Costumes and candy are for babies. You and me? We’re going to raise the dead.” :D sherlolly of course.

(I had a couple false starts with this one, but here’s… something.)

“Costumes and candy are for babies. You and me? We’re going to raise the dead.”

*

Need your help for a thing.  Lab, 23:30, don’t be late.

Sherlock glanced at the text one more time as he walked towards the morgue.  Molly wasn’t usually this cryptic, typically writing a dissertation spanning four texts of negations and apologies and explanations if she ever had to ask a favour.  He wasn’t worried.  Much.

He stopped dead once inside the morgue; the overhead lights were out and the room was lit by what had to be a hundred candles ringing a sheet-covered body on the slab.  His gut clenched until he noticed Molly in the corner, making notes in a file like it was any other post-mortem.

She turned and smiled.  "Ah, good, right on time, let’s get started.“

“What’s this about?  Is this some kind of— Halloween—” he wiggled his fingers “—thing?” he asked, remembering the date.  She quite liked Halloween or, at least, always seemed a bit cheerier right around that time, much like some people perked up around Christmas.

“‘Halloween thing’ makes it sound so amateur.  Fancy dress and sweets are for babies.  You and me? We’re going to raise the dead.”

You and I, he corrected on reflex, then absorbed what she’d said.  "Raise the dead.“

“Yes.”

“Have you been inhaling some fumes you shouldn’t have been?  Maybe ate too much and fell asleep in front of the telly while a horror film was playing?”

She looked to be taking a moment to steel herself before saying, “There’s something you don’t know about me.  It’s, ah, probably just easier to show you rather than tell you.”

Keep reading

CS FF: Man Flu

Summary: It’s Killian and Emma’s first wedding anniversary, but Killian is sick and has no clue what day it is.  To make matters worse, he is driving Emma crazy as she takes care of him.

Rating: PG

Note: So many men are big babies when they get sick (apologies to any men who may be reading this), so I thought the same could be true for our former pirate.  This goes back and forth between Emma and Killian’s POV.  Hope you enjoy it!  ~Steph

…Man Flu: Part 1/1…

~Emma’s POV~

Today is our first wedding anniversary.  This first year of marriage to Killian has been the happiest of my life.  

Minus the last three days, that is.  When I said the vows in sickness and health, I never imagined this.  

I squeeze my eyes closed as the ringing once again fills my ears. Why did I give Killian that damn bell?!  He’s been ringing it incessantly for the last two days.  I thought it would be an improvement over him bellowing my name every five minutes, but I was sorely mistaken.  

Three days ago, Killian came down with a cold. The usual: scratchy throat, cough, runny/stuffy nose.  But you would have thought the man had contracted the plague.  He hasn’t left our bed and complains about every little symptom.  Here’s a man who has lost his hand, been hit by a car, been stabbed, nearly drowned, been tortured, and actually died.  I’m sure in his more than 200 years he’s endured even more than that.  But somehow the common cold brings him to his knees.  

There’s a name for this.  Man flu.  Basically, men act like babies when they become even slightly sick.  Apparently, my brave, strong, resilient pirate isn’t immune to such an affliction.  And now I must also suffer.

The bell rings again, followed by a pitiful moan of “Emma”.

“Coming,” I grumble, as I head up the stairs.

I find him in our bed, the comforter pulled up around his neck.  Tissues are strewn everywhere. His hair is sticking up in all directions and his nose is red.  His blue eyes are watery.

I come to stand before him, hands on my hips.  "You rang?“

"Love, do you think perhaps you could close the curtains?  I’m afraid the sunlight is hurting my sensitive eyes.”

I bite my lip, but nod.  "Sure.“

I walk over to the window and pull the curtains closed.

"Not quite that much.  I enjoy a bit of light.”

I feel my fists clench as I pull the curtains open a little, nearly pulling them off the rod with my vice-like grip.  

“Better?” I ask.

“Perfect,” he says, offering me a weak smile.  "Thank you.“

"Can I get you anything else before I go?” I ask.

“You’re leaving?” he croaks.  

I sigh. “Killian, I’ve been waiting on you for three days. I have a job, you know.  I’m surprised this town hasn’t been destroyed by monsters yet.”

“My apologies for being so much trouble,” he mumbles.

I roll my eyes.  I know what he’s doing and it won’t work.  

“Look, you have your cell phone right there.  If you need me, just call and I’ll be back in no time at all.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he mutters. “I’m sure I can fend for myself in my weakened state. After all, I’ve cared for myself most of my life.”

I roll my eyes again and walk over to him, placing a kiss on his lips against my better judgment.  I don’t really want to risk getting sick, but a kiss usually placates him for a bit.

“You’ll be fine.  I told you.  It’s just a cold.”

“I beg to differ.  I feel as if I am on my deathbed.  It must be scurvy.”

“For the thousandth time, it is not scurvy.”

“With all due respect, love, you aren’t a doctor.”

“True, but I do know how to google.”

“What?”

“Look stuff up on the, as you would say, computer box.”

“Oh. Proceed.”

“And you have none of the symptoms of scurvy.  It’s also very rare in modern times, mostly occurring in poor countries due to malnutrition.  What you have is the common cold.”

“There’s hardly anything common about it.  I don’t see why I can’t be given some medicine to cure this infernal disease.”

“Because there’s no cure for the common cold, which, by the way, is not a disease.  You just have to ride it out.  You can relieve the symptoms like we have been doing with over-the-counter drugs, but there’s not much else you can do.”

“I suppose I’ll just suffer then.”

I wait for him to acknowledge our anniversary, but he’s so delirious from the meds and distracted by his constant whining, that I am pretty sure he doesn’t have any idea what day it is.  

I try to hide my disappointment, as I hook my thumb in the direction of the door.  "Ok, I’m going to go now.  Call me if you need me.“

"Goodbye, love,” he says as I exit the room.

Keep reading

Come lay your bones on the alabaster stones

A second one-shot inspired by the 1x13 deleted scene. Alice and Jughead have a late night heart-to-heart.

ao3—> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11758992

(also because i like continuity and cross-referencing, here’s the first one-shot)


It takes a week before he’s comfortable enough in the Cooper house to wander around without Betty, which makes it awkward in the moments he’s home and she isn’t. He winds up penned in whatever room he’s in when someone comes in. Sometimes, it’s his room which is nice because he basically has the run of the basement and there’s a TV down there, but which also makes him feel guilty, like he should be trying harder to assimilate with the Coopers as a unit. But if Jughead’s in the kitchen or the living room, he winds up stuck in that room, trying his hardest to make small talk and seem normal. Once, he spent forty-five minutes talking to Hal about car engines. He knows nothing about car engines. He had to check with Betty later to make sure he hadn’t said anything stupid.

He’s getting over that though, slowly but surely, his curiosity overtaking his social awkwardness. Because he’s discovered that he’s the only one ever awake at 2 am, and so it’s prime snooping time. He discovered it by accident, one night coming out of his writing trance dying of thirst. He filled a glass from the chute in the refrigerator door and wandered the ground floor in the dark, peering into picture frames. The wall below the stairs is a visual timeline of Polly and Betty, from photos of them in their hospital blankets right down to a photo of Polly at prom last year and one of Betty with Toni Morrison’s arm around her.

Now it’s become a bit of a nightly ritual. He’s moved on from picture frames to picture albums. Mundane residua that exist as testament to the Coopers’ deep love for one other. He knows his father loves him. But their life has never encompassed either the leisure time or the inclination for an activity such as scrapbooking.

Tonight he eases his way up the stairs, avoiding the creak he’s discovered in the second step from the top. He’s had a breakthrough on how to wrap up a dangling plot thread, and is ready to sleep knowing he’s earned the night’s rest. But not before he makes it through “Polly and Betty 2011-2012.”

At first, he doesn’t notice the under cabinet lights are on in the kitchen, because at least one usually is. A courtesy night light for any late night prowlers, ie, him. But tonight they’re all on, and Alice is sitting at the table, wrapped up in an oversized sweater, both hands around a steaming mug of tea. He stops in the doorway.

“Jughead, what are you doing up? Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’m always up now, Mrs. C.” He cups the back of his neck with his hand and ruffles his hair. “I actually haven’t been to bed yet.”

“You’re a night owl. And you’ve been up night after night alone?”

“I don’t mind. Betty’s tried to stay up with me a few times, but she always falls asleep.”

Alice’s face moves as if she’s smiling, her eyes crinkle warmly, though her lips stay motionless. “I suppose we’ll all have to make some adjustments. That will be good for us.”

He gets his water and takes a seat across from her at the table. “Listen, Mrs. Cooper. I just want to thank you again. I don’t know how to tell you how much I appreciate your and Mr. Cooper’s letting me stay with you.”

“Jughead, I’ve told you, if you’re going to be living here, I want you to call me Alice.” She pauses to take a sip of her tea. “Are you settling in alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” It is, but he can’t quite articulate to Alice what he means by that. He’s still adjusting to things in the Cooper household. They’re quieter than he’s used to. People move more softly. They say please and thank you and they offer to refill each others’ drinks when they go into the kitchen. He’s not suffering from any delusions, he knows they’re all crazy, even him, but still it’s nice.

There’s a soothing regularity to being warm when he falls asleep and when he wakes up, to knowing where his next meal is coming from and that all the USDA-mandated food groups will be covered. He loves Archie and Fred, they’re his family, but he doesn’t think it ever occurred to either of them that an air mattress on a cold wooden floor doesn’t the warmest of beds make. Especially in November in an old house. Plus, with a few more consecutive meals of frozen pizza, he’s pretty sure he’d have gotten scurvy. Especially because the Andrews men always opt for ‘Meatzza.’ And it’s been a long time since FP was capable of getting a family dinner on the table.

He feels guilty even having these thoughts. But Betty’s stopped brushing his under eye bags with her fingers the way she’d taken to in the last few weeks when she got so preoccupied worrying about him she stopped being self conscious. So yeah, it’s nice.

“What are you drinking? It smells good.”

Alice’s fingers tighten on the mug. “Oh, an herbal tea blend I use sometimes when I’m having trouble sleeping. Mostly chamomile, but it’s got some other herbs in it. Lemon balm, valerian root, catnip. I can make you a cup.” It’s a sentence but her intonation tells him she means it as a question.

He doesn’t know how to say no, he doesn’t drink tea, especially not tea with catnip in it, so he says, “Sure.” Apparently he doesn’t know how to talk to Alice Cooper at all. The Coopers are middle class in a way even the Andrews aren’t, in a way that goes beyond their gross yearly income. He’s known Betty since they were four and yet he hadn’t expected catnip tea and kale salads and the whole set of all-natural shower and shave products that had been waiting for him in the bathroom on the day he moved in. He’s been dying for days to make a joke about how bougie they all are. But of Archie and Betty, only Betty would get it, and he doesn’t want to give her another thing to feel self-conscious about. He knows she already worries about the class differential between them, that she still feels guilty about not knowing he was homeless.

Alice bustles around the darkened kitchen, switching on the electric kettle, scooping what to Jughead look like dried spices into a little metal ball she sets in a mug and then in front of him. Are tea bags not good enough for these people?

When she pours the water in, the smell, now much closer to his face, is overwhelmingly floral. Almost like perfume. But he lifts the mug and inhales deeply anyway, thankful that for the moment it’s still too hot to drink.

“Betty said you used to work at the Twilight.”

“Yeah, til it closed.”

She nods, as if Jughead, who had been the only one in the sophomore class with a paying job, is normal. “I want you to focus on school. And on being a teenager. But I’m sure it must be hard to lose that extra bit of autonomy that money can give. So if you wanted to find another job, for after school a couple nights a week, Hal and I could help.”

He doesn’t want to seem to eager, so he stares at the snow falling in the window behind her before answering, “That’d be great.”

“Not at the Register, though. You and Betty need at least one place you’re not together. Everyone needs somewhere to escape to. That took me five years of marriage to learn and I’m offering it to you for free.” Alice emphasizes her words of wisdom by pointing at him. “And no garages either.” Then she looks at him like he’s supposed to know what that means. Surely she knows Betty’s the one who belongs in a garage.

Then, horror of horrors, his stomach rumbles. Loudly. Alice smirks.

“How about some lasagna to go with that tea?”

“I never turn down food.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Jughead’s coasted on his reputation as a human garbage disposal for many years. It’s assumed that he’ll want seconds, that he’ll finish other people’s leftovers. Betty has made more than one comment about his unfair-teenage-boy metabolism. But a prickle on the back of Jughead’s neck tells him that’s not what Alice means. She pops a large square of lasagna in the microwave then comes back to face him, a new glint in her eyes.

“I remember what it feels like to go to bed hungry.” She doesn’t direct it to him necessarily, it’s not accusatory. But almost, conspiratorial? As if she’s charting out neutral waters where they can meet.

“I grew up in Sunnyside, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that, Mrs. C—” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Alice. I didn’t know that, Alice.”

Her smile is warm. “I did. Until I was 17 and moved in with an aunt who’d gotten out and had an apartment over the hair salon on Fifth. It was almost too late though. They didn’t let girls in the gang officially then, but I was around enough to get into some stuff I had no business being a part of.”

Jughead chokes on his catnip tea. “You were a Southside Serpent?”

“Mhm. I’m surprised your dad didn’t mention it when you and Betty started dating. Every day I expected her to come home and throw it in my face.”

He’s not sure how to respond to that so he waits while she retrieves his plate from the microwave, setting it in front of him with a fork and a folded napkin.

“But you’re not a Serpent now?”

“Of course not. I put enough distance between us and I didn’t know anything really dangerous so eventually they let me go. Plus I started dating Hal that summer and things got serious between us pretty fast. And his dad was the mayor, so they couldn’t get too close to me anyway.”

To say Jughead is stunned would be an understatement. Alice Cooper, pastel spokeswoman for suburban perfection, grew up in a trailer park and ran with a gang as a teenager — ran with his father’s gang. It’s almost like she’s trying to tell him they’re the same. He wonders, uncomfortably, if they are. And it gives a new shade of meaning to the dream he’d had once of Betty in a poodle skirt and Archie with a knife in his back. He’ll have to untangle the resonance of that one later.

But now she’s revealed something of herself and, in the calculus of interpersonal relationships, Jughead knows it’s his turn. “I was surprised when you guys offered to let me live here. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really grateful. But, to be honest with you, I didn’t think Mr. Cooper liked me all that much.”

Alice sighs. “Hal is a good man. He’s a good father. But he has the privilege of seeing the world as black and white in a way that you and I can’t.” She looks up from her mug of tea and meets Jughead’s eyes. “He’s always been that way. So clear about right and wrong. I’ve tried for most of our lives to mimic that. I was so sure he was right.” She trails off for a moment and the silence settles like a blanket of snow. “All I’ve ever wanted was to do what’s best for my children, all my children. And I’ve made a lot of mistakes in pursuit of that. Some of them irreparable. But some…I have a lot to atone for.”

Jughead swallows. She seems to need to speak, and he wants to hold that door open for her. “I don’t know about Polly, but Betty does knows that. She knows how much you love her. You’re a good person too.”

She nods, but looks as if she’s not really paying attention.

“Good people in bad circumstances still do bad things.” It’s a truth Jughead is intimately acquainted with, and, yet, in Alice’s mouth the words seem heavier, more personal even. Maybe because he knows about her son. Maybe because he knows that, like the hand of God, she’s plucked him off his father’s path and deposited him on her own.

“You’re here because Betty loves you and because you’re a good kid. You deserve better than what you’ve been given. It’s hard, almost impossible to climb out of that hole. Someone gave me a hand once. Now I’m passing on the favor.” She twists her empty mug from hand to hand. “Your dad’s always meant well, always done his best in his own way. He doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him. If the situation was reversed, I like to think he’d do the same for my daughters.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“We were close, once. People don’t change that much.”

Jughead thinks about the baby Serpents he’d met at Southside High. “Can I ask—Betty never mentions any family—do you still know anyone, have anyone left on the South Side?”

“No, they’re all gone now.”

He reaches an arm halfway across the table then lets it fall. “I’m sorry,” then, catching himself in time, “Alice. I know this is lame, but if there’s anything I can do.”

She smiles at him as she pushes back her chair and stands up. “You know what you can do? You can make good. And rinse that plate before you put it in the dishwasher.” She takes both their mugs to the sink. His is still three quarters full. Jughead’s ears feel hot. She shakes the contents of the little metal ball into the compost bucket beneath the sink, then loads everything into the dishwasher. When she turns back she says, “Liking tea isn’t a pre-requisite for being a Cooper.”

“Noted.”

“Sweet dreams, Jughead.”

“G‘night, Alice.” This time he doesn’t trip over her name.


A few minutes later, Betty appears in the doorway Alice has just vacated, her face a mask of sleep and concern. “Juggie? What’s going on? I got up to go to the bathroom and I heard my parents’ door close.”

“Me and your mom were just talking. She fed me lasagna.”

Betty stumbles over and curls up on the chair next to him, her head on his shoulder.

“Here, baby.”  He holds a forkful of food up to her mouth. Once she takes it, she sighs and snuggles deeper into him.

“What’d you guys talk about? Was she nice?”

“Just stuff. I’ll tell you in the morning when you’re not asleep. And yeah, she was.”

He sees her frown in his peripheral vision. “I’m not asleep. I’m just not a night owl like you.”

“Okay, Betts.” But by the time he’s finished eating, she’s fully asleep, making quiet snuffling noises.  He lifts her head off his shoulder and guides her as she melts onto the table. He turns and rinses his plate and fork before placing them in the dishwasher.

Then he lifts her back up and slings one of her arms across his shoulders. “Come on, early bird. Time for bed.” He presses a kiss against her hair, and together they stumble back toward the stairs.

It’s time for a round of How Disappointing is My Unicorn?, the game show no one wants to win.*
*I think this might have been unclear to some people, but disappointing is absolutely a term of endearment in this context. These unicorns are awful and I love them.

This unicorn is sort of disappointing, like maybe it could be someone’s dog with a toilet paper roll taped to its head? But it’s probably a nice dog.  6/10

This unicorn skipped school to play World of Warcraft 4 days in a row. It is going to die of scurvy if it doesn’t consume some vitamins soon. Look at that lank, receding hair. Stare into those sunken eyes. 3/10

This unicorn has eaten all the snacks and left silly string everywhere, and it’s not even sorry.  That is bloodshot eye of the terminally unemployable. At some point you’ll turn around and it’ll have a lampshade on its head. 2/10

This unicorn made an elderly relative cry at its last family dinner.  It’s not even trying any more, see how its tail vanishes into greyish fog?  Even its raised hooves and frolicksome posture can’t hide the desperation in its eyes. 4/10

This unicorn partied so hard someone called the fun police. Here they are with their old man socks and bulging calves ready to take it away so it can think about what it has done. 5/10

This unicorn owns every Alice Cooper album ever made and spends its parents’ money on liquid eyeliner.  It’s thinking of getting a tattoo. Maybe a skull, you know, or a bleeding heart. 4/10

Look, I know I should say something about brawling and youth violence, gosh isn’t it terrible, I blame video games, but this unicorn is fighting bears.  That is possibly the most metal thing a unicorn has ever done?  I’m not disappointed at all. 10/10 would buy the comic and the feature film.

Image Sources [x]

reflectingiridescent  asked:

PLEASE TELL ME SOMEONE HASN'T DONE PARKER/HARDISON YET.

OKAY SOMEONE HASN’T DONE PARKER/HARDISON YET. But now I will! I might throw some Eliot in there too, because @dorothyoz39 requested that. :-)

  • Drinks all of the coffee: I don’t think Parker or Hardison are big coffee drinkers, so…Eliot, maybe? I guess he’s shown drinking coffee a few times.
  • Brings up adopting a pet: Hardison. Parker barely knew what to do with a plant.
  • Kills the bugs: Parker.
  • Cooks the meals: Eliot. Parker would live on cold cereal if they let her, and Hardison can cook but usually gets so into whatever project he’s working on that he forgets to eat, let alone cook. If it weren’t for him, Eliot grumbles, they’d probably both have rickets or some shit. And if he didn’t cook for them, they’d just steal his sandwiches anyway, Hardison. Yeah, that’s right, he knows about that.
  • Starts getting into holidays way before they should: Parker.
  • Initiates the couple selfies: Hardison.
  • Forgets the birthdays and anniversaries: Parker doesn’t forget them, but they’re not as important to her as they are to Hardison, and she feels awkward about things like anniversaries and birthdays because she didn’t celebrate stuff like that growing up. Hardison totally gets that, though, and he basically tells Parker early on that he doesn’t care if she makes a big deal about his birthday – and he really means it. He plans his own birthday celebrations, and involves Parker in the planning, and that works out pretty well for them both. (Eliot quietly makes them both their favorite meals and a cake on both their birthdays every year, just like he does for Nate and Sophie, when they’re all in the same place.)
  • Always ends up with too much junk food after grocery shopping: Let’s just say their house is well-stocked with orange soda, gummy frogs, and a wide variety of breakfast cereals, and they regularly get donuts from their favorite bakery. (They don’t worry too much about things like vegetables and fiber. That’s why they have Eliot, who stomps around complaining about grown-ass adults who eat like 10-year-olds while he cuts up fruit and measures out yogurt and chia seeds to make freezer smoothie packs for them, and then cooks them “a real meal with actual protein and vegetables, and you’re gonna eat it so you aren’t the first two cases of goddamn scurvy in modern-day Portland”. This arrangement works out really well for Parker and Hardison, who’d both rather do things other than cook, and for Eliot, who loves cooking for them.)
  • Nicknames the other: Hardison has at least a dozen nicknames for Parker. (Hardison has at least a dozen nicknames for everyone he loves, actually, but not everyone is as cool with him using them as Parker is, Eliot – man, you really need to relax.) Parker mostly just calls him Hardison around other people. When it’s just the two of them, she calls him Alec about half the time, and the way she says it makes Hardison feel like it’s an endearment. 

Send me a ship (romantic or platonic or family) and I’ll tell you who…

forthenovel  asked:

mick/being respected #NICE #OTP. on the other hand, could you share some mick/cisco headcanons? i've never considered it before and i am Interested.

OH MAN HEATVIBE YES LET ME GIVE YOU MY HEATVIBE HEADCANONS

  • They started dating after Mick apologized for beating him up and complimented him on the guns and how clever they were
  • Cisco realized Mick was way smarter than he let on
  • It’s nice being in on the joke
  • Also the Snarts are being nice to him? Like what?
  • (Lisa is still teasing Mick about it and Len would like them all to stop talking about that thing his aro ass doesn’t get)
  • They sort of don’t tell anyone?
  • And then invasion happens and its like whoops yes i am dating this former super villain surprise
  • what the fuck did you just say about him
  • okay fuck right off
  • Barry and Oliver might come back to Mick holding Cisco by the collar of his shirt while Cisco yells at the Legends crew for disrespecting his boyfriend
  • Mick brings Cisco candy from alternate timelines and weird points in history
  • Cisco upgrades the Heat Gun and makes Mick cool exploding things and long lasting lighters
  • Mama Ramon actually likes Mick because the first thing he did was be obscenely polite and compliment her cooking
  • Mick has Ramon family recipes that Cisco hasn’t got yet 
  • Mick cooks for Cisco all the time because he’s convinced that Cisco doesn’t eat enough vegetables and is going to get scurvy or something
  • Mick can also pick Cisco up with one hand basically (Cisco totally absolutely does not find this hot as hell what are you talking about)
  • Cisco and Mick doing chemistry 

Listen I love this ship and if you want to join me in this trash heap i am literally always down

So I was looking at this post and it got me thinking about asexual!Bokuto…

·      His whole life Bokuto is just FULL OF LOVE.  He wants to be friends with everyone, he gets attached easily, he cares about people like nobody’s business.

·      But he’s also a BOY and so as he gets older he’s bombarded with all these societal messages about how all boys want sex and he?? Doesn’t?

·      After some reflection he figures that he’s just a hopeless romantic, that’s all, he doesn’t think about sex because he wants the whole deal, the relationship, with kissing and cuddling and sharing your life together.

·      But even then he can’t help but notice how in all the romantic movies his mom loves, the climactic moment is always when the couple finally sleeps together.

·      “the talk” even begins with “when two people love each other very much…”

·      But that’s okay, he just hasn’t been IN love yet, that’s all…

·      Then he meets Kuroo and they are BEST FRIENDS and time passes and by their second year they are MORE THAN FRIENDS and Bokuto is HEAD OVER HEELS he loves kissing Kuroo and holding hands and goofing off together.

·      In their third year their time together starts getting more physical.

·      Deeper kisses and more touching and Kuroo seems super into it but after a certain point they cross a line and Bokuto find himself being not-so-okay with the way things are moving.

·      They’ve already exchanged “I love you”s and they both mean it, Bokuto means it.

·      But

·      He doesn’t want to have sex with Kuroo.

·      He tries. Like, really tries. He thinks maybe he’s just anxious because it would be his first time. He tries jerking off thinking about Kuroo and yeah his boyfriend is crazy gorgeous and yeah Bokuto’s body is responding but he is just super not into it and it doesn’t feel bad but it doesn’t feel good either.

·      So he promptly falls deep, deep down into his dejected mode and he can’t seem to get out. Because he loves Kuroo, he’s so sure of it, but obviously he doesn’t because when you love someone you want to have sex with them and he just doesn’t.

·      The next time they see each other Kuroo notices in about .2 seconds that Bokuto is #notokay.

·      Kuroo starts pushing because he knows when something is bothering Bokuto he has to talk that shit out. Bokuto tries to keep it in because he’s not ready to lose Kuroo yet, but eventually he just cracks and spills everything. How he loves Kuroo,really, he has to believe him, but he doesn’t want to have sex and he doesn’t know what to do he wants to show Kuroo he loves him but he doesn’t know if he can.

·      And Kuroo, once Bokuto has calmed down enough to look him in the eye, just smirks and is all “what the fuck are you talking about? You show me you love me all the time.”

·      Bokuto is like “????”

·      Kuroo laughs and starts talking about how “you text me that you miss me an hour after we’ve been together. You wake up at the crack of dawn everyday but you let me sleep in cause you know I go to bed so late. You spent two weeks cooking me different vegetables until you found a dish I liked ‘cause you were worried I’d get scurvy. You don’t like scary movies but you still watch them with me when a new one comes out. You named my favorite cat in Neko Atsume after me…”

·      And Kuroo just keeps going on and on, listing all these things Bokuto does for him until they’re both giggling and trying to out-sap each other and they feel even more in love than before.

·     (Later on Kuroo will sit down with his boyfriend and show him some websites about asexuality, but for now it’s enough to make sure Bokuto knows that Kuroo isn’t going anywhere)

·      A few weeks later, Bokuto is doing a morning run through the park when something catches his eye.

·      It’s a jagged stone, shades of red stripes with two points at the top that almost resemble cat ears.

·      Bokuto gets SUPER excited because “oh my gosh it’s a cat rock! And all stripy like a tabby! That’s Kuroo’s favorite! He’ll love it!”

·      So he turns right around and runs to Kuroo’s house.

·      As soon as Kuroo opens the door Bokuto thrust the rock in his face and is like “Look! Look! It’s for you!!!”

·      And Kuroo takes the rock and stares at it for a good minute and then he honest to God tears up and hugs Bokuto and is like

·      “This”

·      “This is the highest form of love I’ve ever experienced.”

·      And then they both just burst out laughing and everything is beautiful and wonderful.

·      Fight me.

2

endless list of actresses i love: [2/*]

 Clara Paget

I play a lady called Anne Bonny who was a real pirate in the 1700s. I went to what they call “Pirate camp”, which was basically lots of training, boxing, to get us to a certain shape that the pirates would be. With the the ringings, the scurvy; and their starving at the same time. And so I’m looking like Iggy Pop- it’s sorta Iggy Pop and Madonna and I definitely chose Iggy Pop. I just love to be different people, it’s so exciting! I love the research that you get to do, every single addition is kind of every different era- or in the future. You just learn so much. Don’t take life too seriously, no one makes it out alive anyway. 

Love... Square? (Harry x Ron x Draco x Reader)

Requested by wildestt-dreeams: Yooooo could you do one where one Draco, Harry or Ron ( idc which I love them all lmao…) where they get jealous? Like idk like just seeing how cute they are when they get jealous when they see you with other guys or something like that ….

*Screams* AAAAAH ITS BEEN SO LONG AYYYEEEE! I couldn’t decide between those three because I love them all, so I made them all jealous of each other?

Warnings: None

Notes: (Y/H) means “Your house”.

Originally posted by just-purely-insane

Originally posted by emmawathson

Originally posted by wolfgurlxox

“Draco, get the scurvy grass, will you?” I asked, stirring the soon-to-be Befuddlement Draught. It was looking like the book said it should, which was a surprise to me, as when Harry and I were partners every potion we made ended up badly. 

“On it,” he said. “How much time do we have left?” 

“Around 30 minutes. We still have time to finish it,” I replied. 

“Good,” he said, sounding relieved. Draco came back carrying the scurvy grass I had requested, and I plopped some into the cauldron. “It looks nice!”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if it’ll stay that way,” I replied wearily. We had been working for over an hour, and Professor Snape expected it to be perfect, as he always did. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ After Potions ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Nice job today, (Y/N),” Draco said as we walked out of class.

“Thanks, you too!” I said, turning towards the (Y/H) common room. “Well, I better be going. See you tomorrow!” I waved, and he waved back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ During Care of Magical Creatures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Unicorns!” I jumped up and down excitedly like a little girl. Ron and Harry seemed bored, but tried to hide it. Hermione had started stating facts on unicorns, and none of us were listening. 

“You seem excited,” said Ron. 

“Of course!” I squealed. “Unicorns! How often do you see those?”

“Not often,” said Harry. He muttered something under his breath, which I couldn’t catch. 

“What was that, Harry?” I asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he said. I didn’t believe one bit of it, but I let it slide. 

“Alright,” I said sceptically. “Well, I’m off to see Professor Grubbly-Plank and the others. Hermione! Get your nose out of that book - you might want to check your facts with the real thing!” I called, and Hermione ran over to Professor Grubbly-Plank to ask her some questions on unicorns. 

“Coming!”

“Harry, Ron, you coming?” I called out for them. They both seemed to have zoned out, and I happened to be in their gaze, but as soon as I said their names they snapped out of their zombie-like mindset.

“Yep!” they said in unison, rushing over to join the rest of the class. 

The rest of class was normal, only Harry and Ron seemed to follow me as much as possible. 

“Harry, Ron, why do you keep following me around? Has Trelawney predicted my ultimate death like she does to Harry every Divination class? Because if she did, I would be surprised if I actually did die.” I said.

“Yeah, actually she did. Just protecting you!” they said. 

“Well, you never know. Maybe we will all die in your attempt to save my life. Fate always works it’s way.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ At Dinner ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I sat with the rest of the (Y/H)s during dinner, but Draco, Harry and Ron seemed to steal glances at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. What was up with them? Then I remembered. Valentine’s Day was in 2 weeks, along with a Hogsmeade trip. Either they had a girl they wanted to ask out and needed my help or… no. They couldn’t possibly want to ask me to Hogsmeade. No. 

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “(Y/N), I’ve been wanting to ask you if… er… you maybe… wanted to go to, uh, H-Hogsmeade with me for Valentine’s D-day?” 


MUAHAHAHA! Who could the guy be? You’ll never know…

kalasad  asked:

Can we see the i58 skins you worked on? I'd love to see the details of the final version as well as the concepts :D Thanks for all your work on making LAN great~

You’re welcome, we’re glad people enjoyed it as well as enjoyed last weekend’s games! 

@scurvyorangesfm​, @ootheca and I were this year’s team for the skins, with Jasbutts taking the reigns for Jasmine Tea’s designs and Scurvy basically pulling a lot of the legwork with skins. You can see the JT designs and how they look in-game here.

We had a bit of feedback in previous times we used skins - not as much as I wanted but just enough. The consensus was that it was cool to see team jerseys, but the jerseys were criticized for breaking the TF2 style or being too flashy. This year we aimed for two new changes from last year’s style guide:

  1. retain more Team Spirit palette on things like pants, helmets, belts, & bandoliers
  2. ditch RED = black Medic coat; keep Medic’s coat white for both RED & BLU
  3. ditch logos on the front of jerseys (this was a time management thing more than a style consistency thing tbh)
  4. ~*ALL THE GAMER GLOVES*~ 

This year, the custom skins were FROYOTECH, Jasmine Tea, and Crowns Esports Club. For FROYO, we put less emphasis on the lime. For Jasmine Tea, Jasmine rolled with a blown-up JT logo. For Crowns, we went off their actual jerseys. Due to time constraints, we recycled and edited Classic Mixup, eLevate and Ascent’s skins for Team XENEX, Full Tilt and Comfortably Spanked respectively.

Scout, Medic, Demoman, Soldier, Sniper and Spy matched a design style. Heavy, Engineer, and Pyro only had logos added to arms & backs due to - you guessed it - time constraints.  (We were also really considered about effort vs. reward as we were disheartened last year by some non-constructive feedback on skins, hence why we didn’t go all out for the specialist classes.)

There’s a lot of things that break from texture to the models in TF2 - there’s not much we can do about that e.g. stripes and logos stretching. I have yet to test it on the high-poly models but I think the streaming crew just ran with highest settings possible for streaming. We wanted to apply bumpmaps this year but time constraints/time worth it?/etc, so the only class that has a custom normal is Scout’s bandages painted over for ~*GAMER GLOVES*~.

Other than the picture used for the TF2 blog, we ran a Twitter campaign Scurvy designed on Teamfortress.tv’s account to promote the teams as well as the skins. 

.At some point, the idea of using custom models a la League of Legends’ team skins style came up. We scrapped it because we were afraid to fuck with the silhouettes as well as Valve’s design for a major LAN. We also struggled to figure out how we’d differentiate Scout and Demo since Scout’s team colour would probably be on his pants - therefore mirroring Demo’s colour recognition. Best to save it for a cosmetics pitch, we reckoned.

All in all, it’s good to see the skins again and the hype factor around them - but we’re not entirely sure about the payoff and how much time we spent on them for something that was only one time, and something that has a lot of mixed opinion regarding it. I can’t recall if Comfortably Spanked was even casted. I do know some people wanted the viewmodels also edited - that’s an additional 200 something textures. We edited about 120 VTF textures, including attaching Scout’s normals to each VMT and Medic’s backpacks. 

By the way, client-side skins and promotional materials will be going up soon when I get the chance to upload them! 

There is lovemaking that is bad for a person, just as there is eating that is bad. That boysenberry cream pie from the Thrift-E-Mart may appear inviting, may, in fact, cause all nine hundred taste buds to carol from the tongue, but in the end, the sugars, additives, the empty calories clog arteries, disrupt cells, generate fat, and rot teeth. Even potentially nourishing foods can be improperly prepared. There are wrong combinations and improper preparations in sex as well. Yes, one must prepare for a fuck - the way an enlightened priest prepares to celebrate mass, the way a great matador prepares for the ring: with intensification, with purification, with a conscious summoning of sacred power. And even that won’t work if the ingredients are poorly matched: oysters are delectable, so are strawberries, but mashed together…(?!) Every nutritious sexual recipe calls for at least a pinch of love, and the fucks that rate four-star rankings from both gourmets and health-food nuts use cupfuls. Not that sex should be regarded as therapeutic or to be taken for medicinal purposes - only a dullard would hang such a milestone around the nibbled neck of a lay - but to approach sex carelessly, shallowly, with detachment and without warmth is to dine night after night in erotic greasy spoons. In time, one’s palate will become insensitive, one will suffer (without knowing it) from emotional malnutrition, the skin of the soul will fester with scurvy, the teeth of the heart will decay. Neither duration nor proclamation of commitment is necessarily the measure - there are ephemeral explosions of passion between strangers that make more erotic sense than many lengthy marriages, there are one night stands in Jersey City more glorious than six month affairs in Paris - but finally there is a commitment, however brief; a purity, however threatened; a vulnerability, however concealed; a generosity of spirit, however marbled with need; an honest caring, however singed by lust, that must be present if couplings are to be salubrious and not slow poison. Having consumed for years only junk-food sex (some of it undeniably finger-licking good) Princess Leigh-Cheri was now the recipient, in abundance, of both lusciousness and nourishment, and needless to say, it was agreeing with her.
—  Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker