“if shadowhunters ever has a musical episode, alec has to be the character to somehow swerve all of the songs. He walks out of the room, gets away in the last second, just always manages to escape. And then when he thinks he made it…. in the very last scene…. he serenades magnus”
so the whole thing is prob a spell (either seelie or warlock)
which means magnus obv isnt affected
and when everyone’s like: fix this!! he’s like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ spell will stop once the day is over yall have to wait
the singing is caused by high emotions or sth and alec hears this and is like ‘nope’
so every time there’s some kind of indication that ppl might start singing, alec immediately runs out of the room
just hightails it outta there
fucks right off
jace either has a ‘bet on it’ number or a fun little thing with simon
izzy and clary sing about Friendship (👀)
clary sings some angsty song about Finding Herself
maybe….val is affected too and we get a Villain Song
Luke sings the best fucking thing, the entire pack as background singers, there’s dancing, maia has a solo
meanwhile, during jace’s number most likely, alec is like lmao bye and makes his way to magnus’ (he thinks that the spell wont affect him there bc of the wards prob well think again buddy)
its night when alec arrives at the loft, he joins magnus at the balcony and they talk a bit and alec’s like ‘no emotion could compell me to sing tbh’
and magnus talks a bit more and then realises that alecs gone oddly quiet, he turns to him and alec is pressing a hand against his mouth and is looking Shooketh bc HE SHOULDVE KNOWN
the one emotion that could make him sing is loooooove~
and magnus is delighted and very dramatically says ‘do what u must, alexander’
and then alec suddenly starts singing,,,, A LOVE SONG
Tikki opened the door to Marinette’s apartment wearily. Putting the key she found in the potted plant next to the door in her pocket, Tikki entered the house. Everything seemed unchanged, save for the thin layer of dust that appeared to settle over everything. Tikki got a grip on her gun and began to move slowly, taking in her surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, no sign of fighting or resistance. Still, something was out of place. Marinette called about two weeks ago saying she needs a medical leave. Something about exhaustion and other things that might affect her performance at work. Tikki, of course, approved the medical leave. She didn’t want Marinette putting her health in peril or the sake of working. But when she tried to call last week to ask her about her whereabout the line went dead. She assumed Marinette might just have her phone closed. But after continuous calls for a couple of days, Tikki figured something had to be wrong. So she came to visit. It seems like her instincts were right.
Tony took his hand, leading him away from the others. They watched the two pass, some stepping aside when needed, but T’Challa kept his eyes on Tony. “Play a game with me?” Tony asked, and T’Challa replied: “What kind?”
“Stress test for the brain, kitty cat. Can’t let a mind like that go to waste. We’ll call it ‘Remember When?’”
Something clicked in Josuke’s head that seemed to revert him to the many fond memories he had of his mother…to the very moment she touched his face and swore to him that she’d protect him, to now….seeing her lifeless body and peaceful face couldn’t register in his mind that his mother….the one living person who truly mattered in his life….was now gone.
Oddly enough, there was no crying. No denial. No throwing of chairs….mom wouldn’t want that….right? She told him how uncivilized everyone was acting at her fathers funeral and that his passing should be seen in a positive sight. That he wasn’t in pain and that they should be greatful for that. He held her hand, tears dripping down onto it as he stifled loud sobs, biting his lower lip until it bled. He felt something come undone….amd honestly, he didn’t want to feel anything anymore.
So after a few minutes of hiding emotion, he stood, stone faced and undeterred as he walked out of the room. “Mom….I’ll be tough for the both of us…..i promise..”
Hannibal's milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and Will is TOTALLY OK with it! (Hannigram featuring jealous/possessive Will and a certain thirsty scarf dad who's always sniffing around Will's favorite cannibal booty.)
You said milkshake… things happened.
Bedelia’s Malt Shoppe was known for two things: exceptional milkshakes and a specific kind of clientele. Bedelia’s silent but tacit recognition of her patron’s proclivities had made her shop a safe haven for young men of a certain predisposition. So much so that it was rare to see the counter stools lined with anything but young clean-shaven boys, barely men, armed with twinkling eyes and toothy smiles.
Will Graham was blissfully oblivious of this when he entered Bedelia’s for the first time, though all eyes instantly turned to him.
Scruffy and surly looking, with oil-stained jeans and well-worn flannel, he looked positively primeval in comparison to the row of slicked-back hair and tight t-shirts. He tugged at the wily ends of his curly hair and his cheeks flushed. A few sets of teeth smiled at him, but most of their attention had already diverted back to the man behind the counter.
Wiping the trickling beads of sweat from his brow, Will sat at the furthest stool from the crowd, squinting over his glasses at the menu on the wall.
He frowned. It just read ‘Milkshakes’.
“Uh, excuse me?”
The man behind the counter turned to look at him, and Will felt his glasses fog up. He blinked repeatedly, focusing the man back into view. He was gorgeous. Clad in a garish pinstripe vest that somehow looked tasteful on him, shirt sleeves rolled up to display muscled forearms, and a pristine white apron folded and tied precisely over his hips. His ungelled hair fell softly into his face, a honey-brown curtain of fringe from behind which shone alarmingly warm chocolate eyes.
“Yes,” the man said softly. His voice was smoky thick with just a trace of an accent.
“I-I er, uh,” Will cleared his throat and shook off his stuttering, “sorry, could I see a menu?”
The row of young men snickered under their breath. Will bit his lip to prevent his grimace.
“There is no menu,” the man replied. “What would you like?”
Will shook his head in bemusement. “How would I know what I like if I can’t see a menu?”
The young men laughed a little louder. Will shot them an irritated glare.
The chocolate-eyed man just smiled. “I assure you, I’ve never disappointed anyone with one of my creations.”
He leant in just a little, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Perhaps I might surprise you?”
Will gulped, watching as the man’s gaze traveled to the column of his throat.
“Sure,” he choked out, “go for it.”
“Of course, Mr –” the man tilted his head in question, one fine eyebrow just slightly raised.
“Graham,” Will said, “Will Graham.”
He stuck his hand out and the man looked at him in surprise. At the end of the counter, the young men had gone oddly still. A communal breath was being held.
Hannibal wiped a genteel hand on his apron and then took Will’s, shaking it firmly. He kept them pressed together just a little too long before retreating, and the men murmured quietly among themselves in surprise.
Will curled his hand into a loose fist and released it, feeling the residual heat move through it. Hannibal. He smiled quietly to himself. He felt like he’d uncovered a secret he wasn’t supposed to.
Hannibal busied himself behind the counter with scoops of ice cream and various frothy things, his attention focused laser-sharp. The energy in the shop had gone askew, and a few of the young men were now sending curious gazes Will’s way. Will felt his cheeks burn and tried to sink as low in his seat as he could. He hadn’t asked for this. He just wanted a fucking milkshake.
As if on cue, Hannibal slid a confection toward him in a tall frosty glass. It didn’t look like any milkshake he’d ever seen. It looked like a work of art.
“Can I - can I drink this?” Will asked uncertainly.
Hannibal laughed lightly and leant back against his side of the counter.
“You can, Will,” he said, “I promise it won’t bite.”
Will leaned forward and pulled the straw between his lips, careful to avoid the lacy curlicues of chocolate that sprung out of the sides of the glass. The curving peaks of whipped cream were difficult to work around, but they looked painted on and he was loathe to disturb him. A dot of cream landed on his nose and Hannibal made a very quiet but very approving sound.
Will took the first sip with his eyes directly on Hannibal’s. This was a mistake, because the moment the drink touched his tongue, he moaned. Hannibal saw it all. His eyes went a shade darker and he licked his lips.
“Is it good?” Hannibal asked.
Will nodded, mouth still full. He released the straw and swallowed loudly.
“Delicious,” he replied.
Will leaned forward to take another drink. Hannibal’s eyes were on his mouth, blatant and unabashed. One of the men at the end of the counter quietly set his money down and slinked away. Another followed quickly, hands in his pockets and frowning disappointedly. Will watched them with bemusement and drank his milkshake, Hannibal just watching him all the while.
Boldness seized him on his third pull from the glass, and he let the straw linger against his mouth as he released it. He kept his eyes to the counter when he licked his lips, but he was all too aware of the heated scrutiny he was under.
“Hannibal,” called a bold voice from the end of the counter. Will watched Hannibal prickle at the clearly unauthorized use of his name and looked at the source. A sandy-haired man with flirtatious blue eyes, his smile just a little too wide. He drew his fingertip around the rim of his empty glass.
“I don’t suppose I could have another?” he asked with an exaggerated pout.
“No Anthony,” Hannibal said, “I don’t suppose you could.”
Anthony’s face fell. Hannibal hadn’t even turned to look at him. He slipped his own bill under his glass and slunk out glumly. The rest of the pack quickly followed suit, the wind summarily blown from the sails. Will watched it all with a mixture of confusion and strange pride.
“What the hell just happened?” he asked Hannibal once they were alone.
Hannibal untied his apron and began folding it neatly.
“Defeat,” Hannibal answered succinctly.
Will creased his brow in a frown. “Defeat from what?”
Hannibal slid his palms across the counter so that they caged Will’s half-drunk milkshake.
“From you, Will.”
He reached his index finger to smear a line through the condensation on Will’s glass, moving slowly down.
“Now finish your milkshake.”
Will took the straw between his teeth, sucking down another sip to soothe his suddenly dry mouth. He swallowed slowly and let another pleased noise hum from his throat. Hannibal’s chest rumbled in approval.
“Bedelia will be here to relieve me in ten minutes,” he murmured. “You’ll wait until then.”
“I will?” Will’s heart was beginning to race.
Hannibal nodded, splaying his palm wider so that his pinky brushed over Will’s thumb. The touch set off fireworks under his skin.
The bell on the shop door tinkled lightly and Hannibal looked up in hope.
No. Just another lost cause.
Hannibal’s stomach tightened in lieu of his fist and his mouth set into a barely pleasant line.
Anthony swung his leg over a counter stool and propped his elbows on the counter, chin in hand. “What do you have for me today?”
Hannibal flipped a glass up into his hand and began to scoop ice cream into it, not bothering to answer. Anthony tipped his head in faux concern.
“Oh dear,” he said, “did our scruffy shipman weigh anchor without saying goodbye?” He stuck his lip out obscenely. “Poor thing.”
Hannibal stirred viciously, teeth gritted.
“Just as well,” Anthony went on, “you’d have gotten grease all over your nice clean surfaces if he’d kept at it. That man was constantly dirty, you must have hated it.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Blink if you did.”
Hannibal jammed a straw into the deliberately undecorated glass and set it down before Anthony with a loud click.
“Do not presume to think that because I let you look on me with fondness once that I will allow you to again.”
He stared directly into Anthony’s surprised eyes and did not blink. Anthony, for once, had nothing to say. Hannibal turned back behind the counter and began wiping down the already spotless machinery with deliberate force, steadying his breath and his heart. He was not going to cry over a boy who had already forgotten him. His shoulders trembled with effort and his head fell to his chest.
He could at least have said goodbye.
The double-hinged door that led to the back room swung open and Hannibal sighed. Bedelia wasn’t supposed to relieve him for another hour. He really didn’t need her smug and icy judgment at present.
“Excuse me,” said a familiar voice.
Hannibal turned in wonder, breath caught in his throat.
“I was wondering if you could show me how to make a root beer float.”
Will stood before him, smiling wide, looking truly dreadful in that silly pinstripe but despairingly handsome all the same. A paper hat - the kind that Hannibal had refused to accept as part of the uniform - was perched precariously atop his beautiful curls.
Anthony set his glass down in shock. “Bloody hell.”
They both ignored him. Hannibal was shaking. Will shrugged cheekily.
“Needed a job if I was gonna stick around town.”
Hannibal descended on Will in overwhelmed relief, sweeping him up into his arms and sinking their mouths together in a series of cold-warm kisses, the chill from the casings behind them swiftly melted by the heat between them. Will swung his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders, smiling giddily between each kiss. Anthony, betrayed by his own innate romanticism, grinned at the display.
Will clutched Hannibal tightly, and once the fever of their kisses had simmered he buried his face into Hannibal’s throat and just held him as close as he could.
“Idiot,” he muttered into his skin, “thinking I’d leave you.”
He looked up fondly, merriment dancing in his eyes.
“How could I leave the man who makes the best chocolate malt in the world?”
Anthony raised his glass in a toast. “Hear, hear!”
Will turned his head sharply, eyes shooting daggers.
“You,” he pointed his finger accusingly, lip upturned in a near-growl, “hands off.”
Anthony nodded, only a little begrudging. “Fair enough. I know when a battle’s lost.” He rose from his seat and set his money down. “Congratulations to you both.” He exited with an unnecessary flourish, setting the bell clanging loudly.
Hannibal looked down at Will, positively beaming. He cupped his face between his hand, stroking it with his thumbs.
“You stayed,” he whispered.
Will turned to kiss his palm, curls brushed soft over his fingertips. He tipped his chin back to accept another kiss from Hannibal, then another, mouths gentle and soft.
Okay, here’s the surprise. A little fanfic by yours truly. You ever wondered how Meghan and Puck truly met? You’re about to find out.
So, how do I begin? Once upon a time…..Please. Let’s try that again.
A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…..Nope, still not feeling it.
A close up of the sunrise on an African savannah accompanied by African chants that even people today don’t understand…A bit lengthy, don’t you think?
All right, in order to save myself from more embarrassment, let me tell you a secret. The beginning of a story is crucial to its’ survival. Since I pretty much exist because of stories, I think I know what I’m talking about here. If you have a shit beginning, chances are people aren’t going to hang around to hear what may be a shit ending. Even now, I’m probably not doing myself any good rambling on and on like this. So, I’ll just get to it.
Before, Meghan became the Iron Queen, before the war, hell, before we even knew the Iron Fae existed, I was given a task. I was given the order by Lord Pointy Ears himself to watch over his so-called “progeny,” to protect and defend her no matter what. Then, on her sixteenth birthday, I was supposed to give her a potion to make sure she never finds out about our world. You know, if I were Oberon, I would’ve sprung for a car, but, hey, what do I know?
But, you guys know how well that went over.
With a dramatic description like that how could I take it so seriously? Still, if I wanted to keep my pretty little head attached to me, I had to follow Oberon’s every command.
At first, I wasn’t so thrilled to be given a mission that pretty much amounted to baby-sitting. I had to leave my home, a nice home by the way, for more than a decade, because my boss couldn’t keep his Royal Johnson in his pants. But, I didn’t let it get it me. When life hands you a bowlful of crap on a daily basis, you learn to just roll with it.
For the first few years, watching over Meghan was a piece of cake. Despite having a half-Fae child on their hands, the family lived surprisingly normally. For me, as you could guess, normal equals outright boredom for me. A mundane house in the middle of suburbia isn’t exactly a premiere hotspot for tricksters like me. There are only so many times I can mess with people’s gardening hoses and scratch at their windows before it starts to lose a bit of the flavor.
One day, though, that changed. Leanansidhe, the great and powerful pain in my ass, took Meghan’s human father away, mostly likely to keep him as one of her many playthings.
After that, things began to get a little more complicated. Wanting to escape the Fae’s presence, Ms. Chase took Meghan and moved down to Louisiana as quick as she could. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for the woman. I could relate to the need to escape something so badly, but knowing deep down that it couldn’t be done. There are some things in life that we can’t run away from and the Fae is one of them.
Wow, that turned a little gloomy, didn’t it? Sorry folks, my flashbacks can be a real bitch. Moving on.
With Lenansidhe’s interference in mind, I knew that I couldn’t protect Meghan the way I’d been doing for those first couple of years. I had to get closer to her, become her friend so that I could defend her from all things. This meant one thing, the thing that I hoped that I didn’t have to do under any circumstance, my final resort.
I had to go to school.
It was tricky, finding out where I had to insert myself in order to give the kid the best protection possible. But I have to give this to Leanansidhe, she gave me one hell of an opportunity.
It was on Meghan’s first day of kindergarten in Louisiana that we met. Of course, she probably wouldn’t remember it that way. The minds of children are sometimes warped by interacting with the Fae. Sometimes it’s harmless, sometimes not so much. Either way, I knew that being there wasn’t going to cause her any harm. The last thing I need is for Oberon to chew me out for giving his daughter brain damage.
All right, boys and girls, pop quiz. What’s the downside to having glamour? Trick question. There really isn’t, at least, not in this situation. With my glamour, I was able to convince the kindergarten teacher that I was just innocent Robbie Goodfell, a scrappy looking five year old with scabby knees and a beaming grin. Of course, there were no need for questions like “How were you enrolled in this class” or “Where are your parents?” All she did was smile, nod, and wave me along to go play with the other kids.
Toys were littered all over the floor with kids playing and talking all around, blissfully unaware that a new kid had entered the room.
Normally, this was my kind of place. All this playing pretend and laughing was exactly what I needed to live. But I couldn’t let myself get distracted now. I had a job to do. I had to look out for Meghan.
Kids were in small little groups everywhere, playing different games or just moving around. There was only one kid who was by herself. Three guesses who that was, ladies and gentlemen.
In one corner of the room, Meghan played with a set of blocks, stacking them higher and higher on top of each other. She did this with far away eyes and a deep concentration that would have been very hard to find in little kids. I guessed she was still upset about the disappearance of her mortal father and probably wondering where he had gone.
Oddly enough, I had a strong urge to be there by her side, making her laugh and helping her forget all about the idea of missing fathers or things that were just simply gone. Maybe the Fae weren’t the only things I had to protect her from. This girl, this princess, maybe deserved something more than this sadness. Maybe that something was me.
As we all know, first impressions are the most important. I wasn’t the type just to go up to her and introduce myself. Where’s the fun in that? An introduction has to be memorable, even if it is going to be forgotten anyway. And I knew just the thing.
With a small, roar-like yell, I ran towards the stacked blocks and knocked them over, sending them all to the floor. I landed belly down in front of Meghan, laughing as sweetly as only a child, or a glamoured Fae, could.
“Hey! You knocked over my castle!” a small voice shouted, snapping me out of my mirth.
I looked up at the girl with a huge smile, clearly not intimidated by her tone. But the look she was giving me. Sheesh, it could rival one of Oberon’s. She was definitely her father’s daughter. Her arms were tightly crossed around her chest as she looked down at me with a harsh glare. Damn, for a little girl she was pretty good at it.
Her eyes, clearly her mother’s, had a small fire behind each one, while her mouth had a firm look about it. Already, I could tell she was going to be a force to be reckoned with someday. She would be stubborn, reckless, a handful of the highest proportions. It’s a good thing I’ve had so much experience dealing with these kinds of people.
Through all of that, my grin didn’t fade. I just put my chin in hand, trying to look childishly innocent. “Sorry, princess, but I was just playing dragon. Dragons have to knock over castles. It’s the rules,” I said, my voice sounding weirdly high pitched.
Ugh, there’s a reason why I don’t like glamouring myself to be too young. But, once again, it was for the job. My dignity had to once again be sacrificed.
Meghan pouted, clearly not taking my excuse as answer, though I could detect a small smile in her eyes. “You’re going to help me make a new one, mister,” she demanded, sitting back down and rearranging the blocks.
I chuckled again until she gave me another look. “You’re joking,” I mused, starting to get up off the ground. It appeared that giving poor Robin Goodfellow orders runs in the family. No matter, she’ll get used to me. They always do.
Groaning heavily, I got up to sit beside her and start reconstructing the castle. Meghan’s eyes went back to that far off place again, full of concentration, but not fully aware of what was going on around her. It’s weird saying this, but that look has no right being on the face of a young child.
I decided it was time to introduce myself. I already made a great first impression by breaking something. No use in making it worse by having this big awkward silence.
“I’m Robbie, by the way. What’s your name?” I asked.
She looked away from her blocks, almost a small hint of a smile on her face. “Meghan,” she said simply.
“Nice to meet you, princess.”
This time a full smile danced on her lips and, suddenly, the room appeared as if it had grown a little brighter. We both went back to building, a small silence growing between us.
“Hey, during naptime, you want to find where teacher hides the snacks?” I asked.
So that meant that you and Banner had been up discussing genetics and mutation for four hours now (and everyone else had already turned in for the night.) It wasn’t like you minded though, in fact it was quite the opposite: you loved talking to Banner about all things science and had found a mutual interest in mutation genetics especially.
“-and particularly, if we were to isolate the DNA code from mutants with previous mutatious generations, then we would be able manipulate the gene and programme technology to register certain aspects in the genes and predict future mutants,” Banner babbled excitedly as he continued with his experiment on the lab table.
Nodding, you replied, with similar glee, “Exactly! And if we were to continue that, we could identify mutants in the past and see where they originated from. I think Switzerland has already began trying the process but if the US Government were to agree to the funding of the labs, we’d be able to trace back early members before Switzerland had even identified the vital codes in the genes.”
“Precisely,” Banner agreed, shooting you a grin as he tore off his plastic gloves and washed his hands in the sink. “You know, I can’t even talk about mutation to Tony. He’s more of an enginerical man himself, and certainly isn’t fussed about discussing genetics, let alone mutation.”
You smiled -urgh, and felt a warm blush creep across your cheeks- and averted your gaze to the floor before you lost yourself in his eyes again. But looked up again when you felt his warm hand on your waist and realised that he was mere inches away from you now.
“It is awfully late,” he mumbled, his voice oddly husky. “You should’ve gone to bed ages ago…”
“Wasn’t tired,” you whispered, eyes locked on his now and you couldn’t shift your eyes from his lips when he sucked his lower through his teeth.
Quirking an eyebrow, he huffed and muttered, “Typical scientist,” before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.
Momentarily stunned, you quickly recovered and threaded your hand into his hair, letting your eyes fall close and parting your lips to receive his. He brushed his tongue against your bottom lip for confirmation before he plunged it into your mouth and curled it around your own. You grazed your teeth across his tongue and lips and felt a rush of heat when he gasped quietly into your mouth.
Curling a warm palm around your waist, he pulled you flush against his body and you felt his cock, hard - and fucking massive, by the feel of it- pressing into your crotch and stomach. He rocked against you and pushed you back until you felt you back hit a wall and he just continued to push you into it until it was almost painful.
He lifted you up, with surprising strength- but which you assumed had something to do with the other guy-, and you instinctively wrapped your thighs around his hips and ground down on his crotch had he pressed you into the wall harder with each kiss.
Breaking apart from your lips, he planted heated kisses all the way down to your neck where he latched lips and teeth on the dip in your throat and sucked bruises into the soft skin there. A long, loud groan escaped your lips and you let your head fall back in bliss.
Gods, you wished all scientists could be as good as this.
1st story inspired by a friend while we were talking about some lovely idols. I have a lot of daydreams whilst I should be paying attention in class and this was just one of many I had played out. Enjoy~
Million dollar idea: the entire Animorphs series is completely rewritten as an AU where morphing always stops exactly halfway and the entire course of the storyline is impacted as severely as you would expect
Anonymous asked: ‘I caught you swimming in my pool without asking my permission and I was gonna tell you off but shit you are too cute’ AU
up smiling, stretching languidly, blue silk sheets caressing his skin. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed to wake up like this, on his
own terms; no alarm clock, or the sound of his phone ringing persistently. As
much as Castiel enjoyed running the Novak family business, being a CEO was hard
work. His life consisted of meetings at ungodly hours, long days at the office,
and no time for sleeping in.
was only human, and so he’d decided that this once, he could get away with taking
a Sunday off. He’d instructed his assistant Becky to cancel all of his
appointments, and he’d let her know that he’d be turning off his phone for the
next twenty-four hours. No business calls today. The only thing he had planned
for his free Sunday was a little BBQ get-together with some of his siblings and
friends this afternoon, and other than that he would make sure to do absolutely
back the covers and getting up, Castiel’s grin stretched even wider once he
opened the curtains. A captivating sunrise greeted him, painting the sky in
soft tints of orange and yellow. Perfect weather. Castiel most certainly had
picked a lovely day to stay at home.
sun was reflected in the cool, clear water of the giant swimming pool that took
up at least half of Castiel’s back yard, the surface sparkling invitingly,
tempting Castiel to take a swim. Castiel considered doing just that, when a
sudden movement caught his attention. Stretching his neck to get a better view,
he realized that someone was already in
Castiel muttered out loud as he squinted at the intruder.
that was definitely an intruder; Occasionally, Castiel’s brother Gabriel would
let himself in to go for a swim, but the man currently splashing around in
Castiel’s pool was clearly not
Gabriel. How rude.
huffed, having every intention of rushing downstairs and telling the unknown
man off. However before he got a chance to even move, he found that the
stranger was already climbing out of the pool. At the sight, Castiel abruptly stopped
breathing, because his couldn’t possibly be a regular human being. That was a Greek
god, right there. Strong muscle, tanned skin, soaked sand-colored hair that
was sticking out in all directions, and a face possibly carved by angels.
This one happened when I eight or nine. We lived in a trailer and I was home alone with a hurt foot. I had stepped on a nail and my foot had gotten infected so after getting it fixed I couldn’t walk for almost a week. On this day I was laying on the couch which faced the hall way. I was watching tv when something caught my eye. It was semi transparent little girl. She was walking away from me so all I saw was the back of her. But I remember every detail she was so clear. She wore a little dress that had a blue floral pattern and tied in the back with a little bow. She had dark hair and in the sweetest little voice she called my name and ask me to fallow her. I got the feeling of dread and even if I could walk I wouldn’t of gone after her. She continued to walk down the hallway calling to me. But as she walked through my sisters bedroom door her voice faded and she was gone. Oddly that wasn’t the creepiest part. Not even ten minutes after she left two nuns showed up on my door step. Freaked me out because the girl had such an awful feeling about her.
Fuck Yeah Nightmares Mod Fey: I’m assuming the nuns were real people? what timing! D: 6/10 for scares and thank you for sharing!
On Dean’s eighteenth birthday he’s given the mirror; it has an extravagant elongated name but most call it for what it is, the soul mate mirror, the item that you’ll look into and find your perfect soul mate. None of his family question him when he casts it aside with a barely there glance, not even bothering to unwrap it from its obvious packaging. It’s common practice that most people wait till they are alone before they look into their mirror; it’s a private thing, something that holds so much importance that it’s understandable that people don’t want to do a life changing event in front of everyone.
What everyone doesn’t realise is that Dean has no plans to look into the stupid mirror, not ever.
When his little brother asks him at the breakfast table the morning after what his supposed soul mate looks like, Dean explains with a roll of his eyes, “I didn’t look into it.”
His mother halts making the coffee and looks over at him, forehead creased.
“What?!” Sam shrieks, nearly spitting out his cereal.
“I didn’t look at it,” Dean repeats, hunching his shoulders as all three of his family members stare at him like he’s grown a second head.
This made me want it. At first i just thought it was over the top tv
drama and their dynamic was still fresh and we really didn’t have a good
grasp of the characters yet. but i felt this moment like a lightning
bolt of possibilities. i knew because of the characters being attractive
and oddly connected that at the very least the fans would be like, “I
would totally watch these two gettin it on.”
This seemed like a mind game, Regina being polite and wanting her gone, but oddly interested in who she was and how she came to be in storybrooke. I Still wasn’t convinced that anything was going to come out of this, again, still in the discovery stage, but still wondering if she was thinking about apple cider + the taste of Emma’s lips. Those first looks were quite suggestive.
And then omfg, I mean right? By episode 2, I was full on shipping this and it was officially fueling exactly all of my sexual fantasies. This is, and always will be an obscene amount of eyesex. Regina just fires this fuck me now, right here in the grass look, and I actually killed the dvr because of it.
this? this made me believe. THIS, is canon. forever in my heart. I
totally thought she was going to kiss her, and it totally looked like Emma wanted her to. And when they didn’t my body genuinely ached. I felt the disappointment of this unrequited yearning for days.
And shit, because even though there was sinister intent, there was yet another look of staggeringly intense eyesex and if you only saw this gif without the context of the scene you would absolutely think they desperately wanted to rip each others clothes off, even in watching the context of the scene Emma didn’t know how to react to Regina seemingly being nice to her. So she pretty much just acts likes everyone does when standing in front of their crush not knowing what to say.
And after waiting for season 2 to start, this happened almost immediately, and I was shocked because of all the people to defend her, of all the people Regina cursed, Emma really did get the shit end of that stick. Yet, here she is, the only one willing to defend her when the angry mob shows up at her door.
And god dammit now they trust each other? “she’s not dying” and my poor shipper heart is just melting at every god damn scene at this point.
Oh and when she has the opportunity to rid herself of Snow White and the savior, she doesn’t, because she loves Henry, you know the kid, Emma’s son? Yeah totally loves the shit out of him and doesn’t want him to loose Emma. I.e. Emma is important to her.
And then the save youselve’s scene, I will stay behind and sacrifice my life and Emma calls bullshit and they make magic together, which honestly was kinda cooler than the idea of them making out, can you feel the sparks between them? I mean this scene was a literal slap in the face to that old saying. And the look they give each other when they think they both might die. God dammit because now every god damn thing is swanqueen and it hurts.
And because this is a family that loves each other, for better or worse they have excepted each others flaws and learned to work together. And the Swan Mills hug made my heart melt.
Saddest moment in human history. everyone cried. every single person in the world, some, for seemingly no reason, felt an epic sadness when this moment happened. If only those poor souls knew what was happening.
son of b*^*#@% these looks just kill me and now its more than just wanting them to hump and paying actual money to see that, i just want them to admit they love each other and maybe passionately kiss for a few seconds. Thats it and i will just die.
then of course the look she gets when she thinks she accidentally killed her. Also a great hair porn moment but there is pain in her eyes and it almost killed me to watch it unfold.
Then dammit, because we were so close, and then this shit happens over a beard who as it turns out, treats her like shit, and Emma is just busted up over it. Her promise, her family, is broken and if she could just explain, they could work it out. Although her heart was broken and i hated to see Regina sad, a part of me jumped out of my skin and was like YES! one beard down, one to go, Viva La Swanqueen bitches!
At this point in the series i started to question why this keeps happening to me, I’m a good person, i work hard, i pay my taxes, i don’t deserve this kind of torture, yet another god damn look that is just a punch in the heart to all the loyal swen fandom. I apologize for this, someone should.
Maybe I need you? Maybe I need a lobotomy at this point, I need this or that, but Regina just gay faced told Emma she needs her and i need to lie down. followed up by the “you’re better than this” scene and uggghhh i need a drink.
women after my own heart.
But this, this fucking killed me. I’ve been sitting around waiting for months trying to figure out how Regina will save Emma. Envisioning her in multiple scenarios from summoning Emma, to bickering with the stupid beards about how she will never give up on her, so… I guess the point of this epic post is this…
Dear OUAT staff, If Swanqueen isn’t endgame, be prepared for the label of “THE WORSE ENDING TO A SERIES EVER.” Because after this roller coaster of a relationship so far, for these two and their son to not end up together as a family, for these two amazing women to not end up as a couple, will be the biggest folly in television writing ever. Every single episode since 1x1 has been the makings for the most incredible love story I have ever seen. And if so, kudos and thank you, for letting me and swen and the ouat fandoms be a part of it, for creating it, for being the reason I found a home in a fandom. The reason I started writing again, *actually tearing up. And if not, then it was just another tv show. #This could be history in the making.
That’s what she asked me. Those were the first words she said to me, and the only words as well. It was at the local October Carnival they have every year. My wife and son were watching a magic show and I went to take a piss. On my way back, a young girl, no more than six years old, walks up to me and asks “Have you ever hurt anybody?”
“What?” I thought I had misheard.
“Have you ever hurt anybody?” she repeated, her head cocked slightly to the side. I glanced around for a parental unit of some sort.
“Uh, where are your parents?”
“Have you ever hurt anybody?” She asked it so innocently, so delicately.
I ignored her and pressed onward, turning my head back only once. She stood in place, watching me go without blinking. “Are you okay?” My wife noticed that I look unnerved. She hands me my two year old son and smiles concertedly.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” I shook it off and focused on the magician. ‘The Great Gregory’ he called himself. He wore a stereotypical magician outfit- top hat, suit, tie, white-tipped wand. Pulled a bunny out of his hat, sawed a girl in half and put her back together, spat out some cards. Cheap, easy tricks. The audience yawned and munched on their chips, most of them here for their children. My son was too young to even appreciate the show, I was just there for my wife who loved magic.
“Next, I’ll need a volunteer.” Proclaimed Great Gregory, eyeing the audience. No one raised their hand.
Except me. By my wife’s doing. I glared at her as soon as Gregory spotted me and smiled. “Yes, good sir, come on up.”
“Dammit.” I said just loud enough for myself to hear. As I walked through the crowd, Gregory’s smile grew wider.
“Now, now, what’s your name, sir?”
“Mike,” I lied.
That was an odd question, I thought.
“Yeah,” I spotted my wife in the crowd, chuckling.
“Well Mike, have you ever hurt anybody?”
I blinked twice, then looked at him. “What?”
“Earth to Mike, haha!” Laughed Gregory, encouraging the audience to laugh too. They didn’t. “I said have you ever hurt anybody?”
“I don’t understand.” I nervously glazed my eyes over the crowd again, looking for my wife to support me. I couldn’t find her. The audience was in a trance of some sort, mindlessly eating their food and sipping their sodas, hearing but not listening.
“Have you ever hurt anybody?” Gregory spoke quieter but fiercer now. I still couldn’t spot my wife.
“I’ve got to go.” I stammered, stumbling off of the wooden stage. I shoved my way through fat men and old women, desperately searching for my wife and child.
“Let’s give 'Mike’ a hand, shall we?” Gregory began to clap. No one joined in.
“Victoria? Victoria!” I began to shout, moving out from under the tent. The carnival had gone oddly quiet, and clouds rolled over the midday sun.
“Yes, dear, what is it?” She was behind me, holding our boy. “I’m sorry, a little girl needed help finding her parents. See, right over there?” She pointed off to the right.
It was the same girl from earlier. She was facing the opposite direction, holding the hands of a man and woman.
“Listen, can we go? I don’t feel well.”
“What are you feeling? Guilty?”
“Have you been cheating on me?”
“Honey, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Tell me right now,” Victoria said, “or I will snap our son’s neck.” She wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed a little.
I fell to my knees, terrified. “No, no, I would never. Please don’t hurt him.”
“Andre, Andre what are you doing?”
I was still on my knees. It was sunny. There were chatty people all around. Victoria was knelt down in front of me, holding our son’s hand with a worried look on her face.
“I, I…” I trailed off and rose to my feet.
“Should we go home?”
“Yes, yes I think so.”
I wrapped her arm and mine and we began to walk out of the carnival. I subtly surveyed the area and saw no magician, and no little girl. The day carried on as normal. My wife slept with our son that night, and I laid awake on the couch.
I can’t explain what happened that afternoon, and I probably never will be able to. I just hope it doesn’t happen again.
Because I’ve done some bad things in my life. I’ve cheated on my wife. I’ve even hurt people.
"It’s the last train of the night and we’re the only two people in this car, and I’m 452458% sure I just saw a ghost." for my bellarke babes. P.S. YOU ARE MY FAVORITE WRITER EMILY :)))
A|N: Prompt is very slightly tweaked? And I hope you like copious amounts of fluff BECAUSE THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS
Look, Bellamy likes taking the last train of the night most of the time.
He’s always guaranteed to get a seat for one, and it’s quiet enough for him to read without putting on his headphones. Sometimes he lies back and stretches out his legs if there’s no one in his compartment because it’s a long ride, and hey, might as well get comfortable right?
But there’s something about his commute tonight that feels strangely off. Bellamy buries his face into the warmth of his jacket, tries not to flinch at his reflection bouncing off the glass. He hates how pale he looks under the wanly flickering lights, the pronounced dark circles that no amount of sleep can get rid of. (Octavia thinks he’s been taking way too many shifts at the diner but Christmas is coming up and he really needs the money, okay?)
He wasn’t even supposed to be working today but Harper’s out with the flu and he knows for a fact that drunk Halloween revelers have the tendency to leave hefty tips, so he had jumped at the chance. He’s pretty sure he can’t feel his legs anymore and he looks like hell, but at least he’s getting some good money out of it.
Bellamy scowls at his reflection, flips it off childishly.
And that’s when the lights go out, plunging him into total darkness, the train giving an almighty jerk before coming to a standstill.