WHAT EVER YOU DO, don’t think about them deciding to do a mother-son dance at their wedding despite Killian’s mom (probably) being long dead, so that Emma can dance with her son. And especially don’t think about Snow taking Killian’s hand and dragging him out onto the dance floor so that he isn’t left out.
The second time she wakes in an unfamiliar bed,
it hurts a hell of a lot more than it had the first time, which seems like it
wouldn’t be the case, but it is.
The room is dark with the exception of the warm
orange glow of the fire and instead of the screaming child, she hears only the
fire crackling timidly. Emma sighs as she tosses her head to the side.
She supposes that she should be grateful that
someone was able to help her, that she isn’t forced to deal with a broken leg
and scarring in her forehead or the residual chills from nearly drowning in a
freezing sea in the middle of a storm.
I just realised I say ‘oop’ a lot. Like, a lot. Not oops, not sorry - just oop. Closed the door in your face? Apologetic Oop! You bump into me on the street? Surprised Oop! Life hands me one more soulcrushing defeat? Just, Oop. I am wired so weirdly.
i want a spin off show called, “yuri’s revenge: featuring otabek” where it just shows yuri being angry and threatening to get revenge on jj and victor and just otabek in the background shaking his head.
Psst,,, how about the prime!cons doing secret santa? IF ITS ALREADY DONE then the bots??
This hasn’t been done before, you’re good!
He’d take it very seriously, he’s going to be the best secret santa and everybody had better notice. He’d figure out everything he could about the person he was santa for, and would make sure the gift was perfect (he would also get super fancy with the wrapping/presentation)
He wouldn’t be quite as extreme as Knockout, but he’d still put a lot of effort into it. He’s not very good at fancy wrapping, but he tries his hardest to make sure his gift is meaningful
He’s a total showoff, and he wants to impress who he was paired with. He’d use his rank to get his hands on something special and then brag about how ‘oh it wasn’t a big deal, barely even tried~’ . What a ham
She knows exactly what to get her partner, because she pays attention to everything. She has little trouble getting/making the item, and would present it with due flair
He’s always watching and listening, so no matter who he’s paired with, he knows what to do. He’d present his gift pretty plainly and silently, but with a cute card. He even signed it
He thinks it’s all a bit silly, but he still participates and gets his partner a gift he knows they’ll like. He doesn’t like frivolities, but just this once it’s ok
He’ll engineer the weirdest gift no matter who he gets, you might not wanna be his partner….
He would part a lot pf thought and heart into his gift, even if he acted awkward about it. He might not give the gift in person, opting to leave the gift where his partner would find it on their own. If confronted about it he’d shrug it off and say it was no big deal
He’d want the gift exchange to be very traditional and the gifts to be hand made, he enjoys it and thinks the whole thing is very special. He’d definitely enjoy finding out what his partner would want
Little reminder that Viktor was preparing Eros for himself to complain on world-level about this handsome man seducing him and then leaving, the same way Georgi was preparing Carabosse to complain on world-level about this gorgeous girl leaving him for someone else.
Is this pettiness something that runs in Russian DNA?
This is for @tinkbooklover and @iamgettingalife - I combined your prompts, because they worked brilliantly well together. I’m also not going to say what they are, here, because… well. You’ll see. Hope you guys enjoy!
Sgt. Miller’s voice
was hollow; perfunctory.
He could feel the words trying to shrink in his
throat, desperate not to be voiced. The wrath of the woman before him was not
among the least of his fears - but these days, it was getting more and more
likely that she’d hear it from the jagged, accusatory voice of a restless
citizen and not from someone who’d served her dutifully, who’d demonstrated his
respect for her daily. She deserved better.
“Ma’am, I think
it’s time we –“ he started, swallowing the end of the sentence. He tried again:
“Its been over a month.”
“Spit it out,
Miller,” Abby sighed wearily as she examined the inventory charts she’d laid
out on the council table. The noon sun cut sharply into the room from the high
windows, casting deep shadows under the eyes of the Chancellor Pro Tempore, pupils dimmed by exhaustion.
“If you want to
run an election, that’s your choice, but I believe the people will be happy to
“He’s coming back,” she snapped, eyes still locked on the paperwork below.
He shook his head.
“We haven’t heard
from him in weeks.”
At this, he saw
Abby raise her vision towards the radio at the centre of the table. It stood
simply, receiver pointed at the sky; just as it had since the day Marcus left
to negotiate a crucial trade deal with the Ice Nation that would supply them
with wools and insulation for the coming winter. He and his company of guards
had dutifully reported back to camp at the start and end of every day on their
journey north; but once they crossed the border, they fell silent. At first, it
was excused as a security measure, to keep a low profile. Their rendezvous with
Roan had been scheduled for the fifth day of the journey; as the seventh day
crept in with nothing but white noise to account for it, efforts began to be
made to initiate contact. Raven had toyed with the radio in an effort to expand
its reach, but ultimately it was decided that it would be better for them to
stay on the same wavelength, with the same argument Abby clung to as a mantra: just in case.
Just in case was no longer enough.
closing her eyes. Miller stood frozen, terribly unsure of anything he should
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,”
he offered. He was thankful, now, that Nate had been charged with guarding the perimeter
of the camp while the Chancellor was away. He softened his voice, trying to
remember how he used to speak to his son after one of his nightmares: “We all
know how much he meant to you. We will support you in whatever way you need.”
He wasn’t sure it
was true, but as he watched her briskly wipe away what she didn’t want him to
know was a tear, he accepted the conviction that it would at least be true of
turned to face him, the corners of her mouth tight and fighting not to crumple
into a pained grimace. Her eyes were soft, glistening in the light; but her jaw
remained set. He wasn’t sure if she’d even noticed the single tear that crested
and fell down her cheek.
Miller,” she answered gently, her voice cracking with the effort of speaking. “But
I won’t give up. Not yet.”
He frowned at her.
The silence between them was loud as they pleaded with one another and with
themselves to be strong; unwilling to
accept the other’s definition of that strength. Finally, it was Miller who broke
the stare-down with an exasperated huff.
“Yes, ma’am,” he
nodded in defeat, moving to exit the council chamber.
He’d have to try
Now that he’d planted the seed, he hoped that a night’s rest
would bring Abby to consider the virtue in it. He needed only to ride out this
wave of courage, and he’d soon see stability blossom in the camp once more.
He was three feet
into the hallway when he heard it.
He stopped in his tracks.
He raced back
into the room, and the radio had been grabbed from its place at the centre of
the table, now clutched desperately in Abby’s thin, shaking hands. Her eyes
were wild, her gaze refusing to release its hold on the device as though it
might evaporate otherwise.
ventured, her voice trembling. She listened for a response.
There it was
again – a faint, crackling cough of static. And then another, this time longer.
“Marcus, can you
hear me?” she pleaded. She released the button to speak, finally acknowledging
Miller’s presence in the room with a flicker of her eyes and a microscopic nod.
Wide-eyed and breathless, the soldier watched as Abby continued to wait for
The buzz of excitement in the room began to diminish as the silence
lengthened, and Miller stepped forward.
“Abby, it could just be interference-“
“Shh,” she hissed, giving Miller a warning glare as she pressed the speaker button
once more. “I’m here, Marcus. Please… please just say something. Come on - I’m
right here. I’m right here.”
shoulders slumped as once again she was met with silence.
There was another
crackle of static, this time enriched with a short sound decidedly more organic
– nothing longer than a breath, perhaps a fraction of a word.
drawing closer to the radio.
“Abby. Did you…”
“I heard it,” she
nodded, looking up at him now with a brightness he hadn’t seen in far too long.
Her bitter tears of surrender from earlier were now overlain with the constant
stream of joyful ones tumbling down her cheeks. “He’s alive.”
These last two words carried a kind of joy and disbelief that betrayed the truth of how well
she understood - it should have been the opposite. She knew he should have
been dead. Miller should have been right.
As the radio crackled yet again, he couldn’t have been more proud to be wrong.
This time, a
voice – undeniable.
Two syllables. That short
offering of speech somehow communicated a bone-deep relief that seemed to wash
over the entire room. Abby choked out a laugh, holding the speaker to her lips.
With a nod of
acknowledgement, Abby sent Miller to fetch Raven to see if they could clarify
the signal. By the time he returned, Abby still had the radio pressed to her
mouth, her grip on the device unrelenting. Raven eventually coaxed it away from
her, Abby hurriedly explaining the situation to Marcus, who was still only
coming through in seconds at a time. With only a few moments’ tinkering, the
signal cleared, and Marcus was able to explain their situation: a cloud of
radiation had closed in over Azgeda
territory, sending the troupe into an underground bunker for shelter. The cloud
had completely scrambled their radio signals, and they had found themselves
completely stranded; so they decided to start digging. They’d tunnelled a
miraculous two miles before they finally broke through into an old Reaper
transitway. Keeping below the earth, they made their way as best they could
back towards Arkadia, and had gotten some ideas about the camp’s own
preservation on the way.
Through all of
this, Miller listened intently, as did Abby – but there were three words that
Marcus tagged at the end of his briefing that he knew she heard louder than any
of the others: