she breathes fire

Hold on Hun, We’re Gonna Bunny-Hug (pt1)

“I’m not cruisin’ for a love connection,” she warns him with pursed lips. He still has her pinned to the door, one leg thrown around his waist as they grind into each other ever so often.

James doesn’t miss a step, just drags his teeth over her pulse and says, “Good. Me either.”

or, ‘I slept with you the other day and I didn’t know we had a mutual friend and now we’re sitting across each other for brunch and it’s awkward' 

wc: 3.7k
rating: M

read on ao3

The pub is raucous tonight. It seems like everyone and their mum decided to hit up the Three Broomsticks, and Rosmerta only had time to sling their drinks across the counter before hustling off to deal with another round of patrons. It just errs on the side of uncomfortable; the close packed bodies, the almost deafening levels of chatter, the slowly building humidity that leaves his skin damp, even after he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel in an attempt to cool down.

It’s a bit chaotic, but then again, he thrives off of chaos. At least, that’s what he says after watching some bloke spill his drink on a girl in an attempt to feel her up, only to receive a punch to the jaw. It results in a minor scuffle and he just sits off to the side observing it. It reminds him of an Andy Warhol painting for some reason; just a blur of colour and movement.

James Potter is not good at flip cup.

Or, more accurately, he’s not good at this blaspheme of flip cup that Sirius came up with. He’s making them chug a bitter stout instead of beer, and James grimaces the whole way through, costing him and Remus significant time.

He gives up after the third round of losing- he doesn’t hate himself that much, plus he’s sure that if he doesn’t wash down the taste with something else, his tastebuds would never forgive him- and Sirius pats him on the back.

“Oh don’t be sad, Prongs,” he says, pinching his cheeks.

James bats his hands away. “You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“Funny, that’s what my mum used to call me growing up.”

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Villains with a heart - Maleficent

she was the daughter of the spinner, a simple girl with simple needs that talked to flowers
the woods were her home, the crows her family and she danced in summer meadows, one upon a time
until a prince came along who promised a dance for a kiss, a kingdom for a night
when she woke up to his absence the next morning, he had not only burned her faith to ashes but her body as well and when she rose, she swore to breath fire into the world that had treated her with so much darkness

Wings Are Always Pretty (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

This was a request and it’s an X-men kind of crossover, so pls enjoy.

“They’re not even wizards! What is the old man even thinking inviting them here?” Draco complained over breakfast to the whole Slytherin table, making sure that his voice carried as far as possible. 

He directed a glare at the new table set right up at the front where five of the students from Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters currently sat eating peacefully. He intensified his glare, willing one of them to turn back to acknowledge him but none of them did.

“That may be so, but they definitely aren’t muggles.” Pansy reasoned, pouring milk into her tea with a neat flourish.

“Pansy, this is the Triwizard Tournament. Not the Trimutant Tournament.” Draco raised his voice again and this time one of the mutants did turn around making Draco recoil involuntarily.

Six eyes. He’s got six eyes.

The six-eyed mutant boy gave him a scathing look before turning back to his breakfast and Draco barely managed not to flinch.

“They’re freaks I tell you, freaks!” He whisper-shouted vehemently.

“I think they’re kinda hot.” Blaise cut in, absentmindedly chewing on a pork rib. Draco choked on his food and goggled at him, lost for words.

“Really, Blaise.” Said Pansy flatly. “You think that’s hot?” She pointed her chin in the direction of a girl with abnormally fiery red hair who was currently using her very long tongue to lick her plate clean without even having to pick it up.

Blaise stared in disgusted fascination for a short moment then shrugged. “Well okay, not all of them.” He relented. “But look at that one at the end.” He gestured with his fork.

Draco’s eyes followed the utensil and came to rest on a girl.

Well he’s not wrong, he thought.

The longer he looked at her, the harder it was for him to look away. There was just something so aesthetically pleasing about her and Draco kept staring until Pansy jabbed him in the ribs, hard.

He stifled a yelp and rubbed the sore spot gingerly. “That was not necessary, Pans.” He grumbled.

Pansy grinned cheekily. “I rather think it was.”

Draco threw a croissant at her.

“Hey, you know what?” Blaise chimed in. 

“No, what.” Draco and Pansy said simultaneously.

Blaise gestured to the girl again. “Apart from being insanely attractive; don’t you guys think she looks a little- I don’t know- normal? For a mutant, I mean.”

Draco studied the girl for a moment and found that Blaise was right. While the other four mutants had obvious tells that they weren’t humans (spikes, tails, multiple eyes etc.), the girl all three of them were currently scrutinizing had a fairly human appearance.

“I bet she breathes fire.’ Blaise mused.

“Or ice.” Draco countered. 

“Maybe her power is really mild, like making plants grow.” Pansy suggested sarcastically.

“Or maybe it’s- oh shit. Abort abort abort! She’s looking our way.!” Blaise hissed as he grabbed a newspaper, shaking it open and disappearing behind it.

Draco hastily made a show of stirring his porridge while Pansy merely rolled her eyes.

“You two are really pathetic.” She told them.

Draco couldn’t agree with her more.



Draco can’t sleep. No matter what he does or what position he changes to, sleep just refuses to come. For some strange reason, he can’t stop thinking about the mutant girl. Granted she did give him and his friends a rather withering glare for all their staring that morning. There was just something about her that had managed to catch his eye. He doesn’t know what it is, but there’s just something

Yep, he can’t sleep.

Quietly, so as to not wake up his dorm mates, Draco slides out of bed and puts on his slippers (yes, he wears slippers, shut up). He grabs his wand from his bedside table, stowing it carefully away in his pyjama pocket. He figures a quiet stroll around would be what he needs to get his thoughts together, so with determination, he sets out to do just that.


Who knew the castle could be so quiet? Draco was used to seeing the corridors filled and buzzing with life, but right now, just after midnight, everything was still. He likes it.

He walks around aimlessly, not exactly sure where he’s headed. That question is answered soon enough when he finds himself walking out the doors and making his way towards the quidditch pitch.

This is more like it. The breeze in his hair and clothes, the smell of grass, the moonlight glinting off of the hoops, the weirdly shaped thing sitting on the stands and the- wait

Draco backtracks. What the heck is that on the stands? He squints hard at it but he’s too far away to see what it is. For one horrible moment, he thinks it’s a Dementor but immediately let’s go of that idea. Dementor’s don’t just casually sit on stands in the middle of the night and besides, Dumbledore sent those things away ages ago.

So what is it?

Cautiously, he takes several steps in it’s direction and when it still doesn’t move he takes another. Maybe it’s sleeping, he reasons. He takes another step and a twig snaps noisily causing the creature to jump up in surprise giving Draco a clear view of it’s figure in the moonlight.

His mouth drops open.

“You have wings???”

The mutant girl eyes him up and down. “Ah, you’re one of the starers from this morning.” She recounts bluntly. “Stalking is also not cool, you know.”

“I’m not stalking you.” Draco says hotly. “I was out for a midnight stroll.”

The girl raised her eyebrow sardonically, not saying anything. She shifts her stance a little and Draco gets a good view of her wings.

They were huge. Twice the size of her body and pure white, made up of layers upon layers of soft feathers. Magnificent, really.

“See something that interests you?” The girl teases, smiling slightly.

Draco snaps out of his daze. “N-not particularly, no.”

“Well, you’re the first person to see them since I’ve come to this school, so you should feel honored.” She tells him conspiratorially, giving him an over-exaggerated wink.

Draco is horrified when he feels his cheeks heat up and quickly coughs to hide it. “W-where do they go? When we can’t see them, I mean. Do they just disappear or something?”

“Not exactly, no. How do I explain this?” She taps her chin thoughtfully, her hair falling into her eyes a little.

She has nice eyes.

 “They kind of contract back into my body, I guess. Then when I want to unfurl them they just… pop back out.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Can you fly with them?”

“Of course I can.”

“Are they soft?”

“… why don’t you feel them?”

“What, really?” He asks, surprised.

The girl narrows her eyes contemplatively but then extends one of her wings out towards him. “Go ahead.”

Draco immediately reaches out before she changes her mind. He gasps slightly when his fingers come into contact with the feathers.

“They’re really soft.” He breathes, stroking his hand over them gently.

The girl shrugs. “They’re just feathers. Feathers are supposed to be soft. You know, there’s a girl back at the academy called Trinity, and she has these awesome pitch black butterfly wings. Next to those mine aren’t even half as impressive.” She sighed, moving her wings away. Draco mourned the loss.

“I think I prefer your wings.” He stated.

The girl gives him a curious look. “Really?” She asked quizzically.

“Yeah, they make you look like an angel.” He answered. 

It takes a moment for Draco’s brain to process the words that had just left his mouth.

“Wait, no.” He backtracks. “No-not that I think you look like an angel because you don’t by the way. I’m saying you-you have angel like wings and they just…you know…” He trails off pathetically looking anywhere but at the girl. Why oh why did he have to say that out loud?

“No ones ever… called me… an angel… before…” The girl says, her voice unsteady and Draco chances a glance at her. She’s looking him with wide eyes and her cheeks are dusted with a little pink.

That’s a nice color on her.

“Wait, what. No one? No one at all?” He feels the need to clarify.

She shakes her head as if to clear it. “Everyone back at the academy calls them cockatoo wings. Have you ever met a cockatoo? I’ll tell you right now if those assholes are gonna be angels of anything, then they’re Satan’s angels from hell.” Her words are nonchalant but her tone is slightly bitter. Draco wonders if he’s hit a sore spot and decides to change the subject.

“You do know it’s past curfew, right? You’re lucky there aren’t any teachers about.” Draco fought the urge to kick himself. Curfew? Out of all the things out there to talk about, he mentions curfew?

The girl brandishes a small scroll of parchment. “I have a permission slip.” Then a sly expression crosses her features. “Do you?”

“I don’t.” Draco admits. “But I’m Draco Malfoy, I don’t need a permission slip to be out on a midnight stroll.”

The girl perks up for some reason. “Draco Malfoy? That’s your name? Huh, it’s really cool.” She looked oddly happy at this and Draco felt a weird fluttery feeling in his stomach. He’d never gotten that kind of reaction before. Whenever people learned that he was a Malfoy they either grovelled to get on his good side or shied away in fear. The girl’s reaction was… nice, in a way.

“So, what’s your name?” He inquired tentatively.

“[f/n] [l/n]” She replied almost immediately, eyebrow quirking slightly. 

“…’’

“…”

Now what? Draco thought. What on earth do you say after introductions? Do you shake hands? Should he shake hands?

He was interrupted from his little dilemma when [f/n] began flapping her wings experimentally. She caught his eye and in one swift movement they disappeared back into her body leaving no trace that they had ever been there.

“I guess I’ve stretched my wings enough for now so I think I’m gonna head back inside.”  She held out her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Dragon.”

Draco could practically feel his insides melting into a pool of mush. She called him Dragon. His own mother calls him that so it shouldn’t be endearing. What is wrong with him? For fucks sake, he needs to get his act together.

 “N-nice meeting you too.” He took her hand and then all of a sudden all he can think about is how soft they were, just like her wings……

“Yule Ball!” He blurts out before he could stop himself.

There’s a still silence as [f/n} blinks a few times, her grip still loosely on his hand. “What?”

Draco swallows. Well, he took a step, he’ll keep walking. “The Triwizard Tournament usually comes with a Yule Ball which requires you take a-a date.”

She continues to stare.

“So basically I’m asking if maybe you’d like to- you know, if maybe you’d like to…”

She’s still staring. Draco gives up.

“Forget i-”

“Okay.”

Draco hears. He processes. “…huh?”

“You’re asking me to the ball, right? I said ‘okay’.” Oh god she’s got that weird happy expression on her face again and Draco just knows he’s done for. He takes a deep breath, gathering up whats left of his dignity.

“I’ll pick you at seven, don’t be late.” He goes for a bow but then remembers that he is clad only in pyjamas and a pair of slippers therefore probably looking like an idiot. He settles for quick nod of the head, ignoring the amused twinkle in [f/n]’s eyes, before walking away back the way he had come.

He’s already halfway across the pitch when [f/n] calls out to him. He turns too quickly for it to look casual and makes a mental note to chastise himself for it later. Malfoy’s need to be cool and suave, Draco. Cool and suave.   

“I just remembered that I’ve already picked out a dress and it’s green so please don’t pick something that would clash!” She shouts into cupped hands.

Draco can’t help the surprised smile that etches itself onto his face and because Malfoy’s don’t shout, he signals to her that he understands.

“I don’t think green will be a problem.” He says to himself.

Certain

Requests: “Hello!! Can I have 99 with Klaus?? ❤️❤️❤️” Prompt List (Credits to gif owners!)

She got in her car, she had to see him. To apologize for turning him down, for making him feel terrible about himself. Because the truth was that she was in love with him. And being in love with someone who’s so evil, who was evil, who does so many bad things…that’s not like her. She wasn’t raised this way.

Everything inside of her was a red flag. From the moment she met him. But she was a curious young woman. He sparked her somehow, everything telling her to run the other way because her parents taught her that people like him could hurt her. So she turned him down. Because he’s a vampire. Because he’s different. But her parents told her that being different was good. Everything she believed in, was caving in on her. She was conflicted.

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All my OTHER wings of fire ocs! Payara is the only one not shown but w/e.

-Top left is North Star, an Ice/Night hybrid. She’s very Ice passing as u can see. Kinda just looks like a runt Icewing when her wings are folded. She does have the stars on her underside in a sunrise color. I may give her subtle nightwing abilities as well, since she can’t breathe ice or fire.
-Top right is Astralsight, a regular ol Nightwing gal and my first wof oc. She doesn’t have any mind abilities, but she’s pretty physically strong for her age.
-Bottom left is Mudcrab, regular Mudwing. I might make him an outcast from the rest of his clutch. He’s probably the former bigwings.
-And the last one is a normal Rainwing named Jacaranda. He’s an assassin for Payara and kills with disturbing stealth and apathy, but that’s all for a price. Payara pays him very well and he lives in luxury when he’s not on a job.

I’ll develop them all more in the future but these are just quick descriptions for now to go with the art

she breathes fire.
her razor sharp claws give way to a massive frame silhouetted by steel cage wings.
she has a sword for a tongue
daggers for eyes. a hole in her chest.
chain link fence ribs and kevlar for skin.
She guards a princess heart in the highest room of the tallest tower.
It’s been there for years and grown quite comfortable with its accommodations
The mountains around her castle,
they stand noble. proud.
they keep others out. they keep her in
she knows not which is more important,
only that her lonely catches the sunlight and refracts off the snowy peaks.

I wonder if you have figured out who this poem is about yet, you or I.
no? me neither.

—  excerpts from poems I never should have written #37

fullmetalkarneval13  asked:

I got a prompt!!! How about... Oh oh... Ok... *Clears throat, steepling my fingers* this might be a lil long winded but here's what I got. Viktor is retired and Yuuri is still skating, viktor still his coach. They bought a house in heastu, and are walking home from the rink... They're walking up the drive when they see a basket on there stoop... Mewling coming from the basket.... A lil baby with a letter on top of it's belly laid in the basket... What do you think???

HELLO FRIEND!!! THANK YOU FOR BEING THE NICEST PERSON EVER AND REQUESTING THE NICEST IDEA EVER!!! (we now have Lori’s custody, we own her lol) Anyways…I hope you like this!! Even though I first thought you meant a kitten and yeah XD 



Life and Love.

Viktor had thought he knew what those words meant. He didn’t need to look them up in a dictionary to define them, they rolled out his tongue on a casual daily basis, he spit them, voiced them a thousand times with the security only habit could provide. He was Viktor Nikiforov, after all. Owner of a great life, five gold medals, a beautiful poodle named Makkachin, and a smile that could set any stare on fire.

How could it have been possible, in any way, that someone like him didn’t know about Life and Love?

But all of a sudden, this clumsy guy stepped in with his awkwardness and his glasses, making music with his body, and giving a completely new meaning to two terms that, before, had seemed completely obvious.

They weren’t as obvious anymore.

What he could so easily define in the past, the solidity of those words, would now melt into meaningless babbles when he looked at him, when he heard him laugh, when he felt the needy press of fingers on his skin. Suddenly, words weren’t enough.

He had built a whole new definition for Life and Love. A wordless definition. That was so easily summarized into a specific shade of brown, and that he only got when he stared at Yuuri in the eyes.

However, there were times when the meanings escaped his restrains, and they flew in the empty air and away from his hold.

There were times when Yuuri wasn’t there, maybe at the rink practicing or hanging out with Phichit. There were times, when Yuuri was busy or uninterested, and Viktor’s roaming hands weren’t enough to convince him. There were times when he was alone, maybe staring at the sea, feeling he still had so much Life and Love inside of him he didn’t know where to fit, where to pour.

It wasn’t Yuuri’s fault, he knew. He had no one to blame but himself.

Sometimes Yuuri would find him sitting on the couch, looking at his old performances, those in which he still had his long hair and way before he started to question the meaning of Life and Love. Back then, both were found on the ice. And Viktor sometimes desperately wanted to feel that again, that youthful, innocent certainty, that precise definition. In those moments, his husband would reach for him and hug him from behind, massage his neck with loving, caring hands and plant some few kisses on his hair.

And right then, when Viktor stood up from the couch to pick him up, carry him all the way to the bedroom and make love to him for hours, he knew that was it. That was Life and Love.

But he wasn’t sure if it was all of it.

One afternoon, they were returning from the rink after a busy day of practice, walking the warm streets of St. Petersburg with summer being just around the corner.  They were holding hands, just like they always did, chatting about the routines and the moves Yuuri was having trouble with, or even gossiping about some other skater or two. That was Viktor’s favorite moment of the day. And he believed it was Yuuri’s too, judging by the relaxed smile on his lips and the occasional caresses his thumb traced on the back of his hand.

He was thinking just about that, of how lovely he looked as he talked about his skating, eyes so shiny with passion that they reflected then sunset thrice as strongly, so submerged into his favorite definition of the two Ls…when he suddenly heard him cut off mid-sentence, and he followed the path of his bugged, widened eyes that were resting somewhere that wasn’t Viktor’s own.

A basket. At the side of the road.

Only then, with the silence generated by shock, he was able to hear the faint noise of whining, and he shared with his husband a simultaneous panicked look.

Of course, they both had heard numerous stories about kids being dumped on alleys or porches, waiting for someone to pick them up and care. Of course they had heard about the cruelest crime of all, which was abandoning a child. Of course they knew this was it.  But hearing the story from the news has nothing to do with actually hear the crying, the blabbering, the sobs of a one-year-old inside a basket.

And by the time Yuuri was kneeling, picking the creature between his arms, desperately rambling about how they needed to contact the police right away…Viktor wasn’t listening.

His attention was fixed on those big, teary eyes, that small furrowed nose and sobbing lips. Little hands instinctively reaching for the heat of Yuuri’s chest as he was rocked back and forth, crying, desperate for a bit of warmth. For a bit of Life and Love.

The immediate course of action was to feed him. They didn’t know what was the last time the poor thing had eaten, and so they took her to their apartment and gave her some milk. They had to stop by a store to buy some supplies, even though they were obviously planning to contact the authorities as soon as possible. But they needed some diapers and special food for the meantime.

The basket had a little note inside, written in Russian of course, and Viktor could easily tell a huge amount of grammar and spelling mistakes, and he couldn’t help but make assumptions. Maybe her parents couldn’t take care of her, maybe they didn’t have the money…but why leave her there? In the middle of nowhere?

By the time they got her to eat and sleep, it was already nighttime. Viktor could see just how stressed his husband was. He could read him very easily, and knew his empathy and kind heart were the culprits of his silence and the tension accumulating in his shoulders. Viktor told him to relax, that they could decide what to do the next day, and that he should probably go take a shower.

Yuuri complied, carefully putting the sleeping baby into the basket again, but this time with a much comfortable cushion underneath and the heat of a cozy blanket.

Viktor was still in daze, not really sure of what he should be doing, or what he should be feeling. He was numbed by surprise, the impact of seeing such a scene. But he was forcefully taken out of his shock by the surreal sound of crying he still couldn’t believe that was coming from his own living room.

He picked the girl up, not really sure of how babies worked, but the yelp the poor thing let out as he held her by her feet was enough of a clue to understand he was doing something wrong. He grabbed her from under her armpits instead, warily, almost afraid, as if she could start breathing out fire at any second or jump at his neck with sharp teeth she didn’t even have.

How did someone stop a baby from crying?? Shaking it??

Nope, definitely not shaking it.

Maybe turning her around?

Ok he wasn’t good at this.

The baby kept crying and Viktor kept fearing he would lose all of his hair in the term of one night. Didn’t these things come with…instructions or something? Just to satisfy some sense of curiosity and ridiculous hope, he pressed a finger to her belly-button, as if it were an actual button that would stop the whining. But the only reaction he got, was an instant kick on the face.

“Oh fuck!”

Much to his surprised, however, the crying ceased. But it hadn’t been the belly-button, the baby was laughing at the way he held his nose in pain.

“What are you laughing at, you meanie!” he frowned, getting nearer, but the baby didn’t seem to take him seriously as she extended a hand to grab his nose “hey, let go! I know it’s a pretty handsome nose but you can’t have it”

She chortled merrily, grabbing his eye-lid next, and laughing even harder as Viktor blinked in pain.

Well, at least she stopped crying.

“Ouch! Keep those hands to yourself, young lady!”

He booped her nose, and realized that might have been the button he had been looking for, since she gifted him the purest, fondest smile Viktor had seen in years. He did it again, mouthing silly noises, enthralled by the happy yelps and giggles he got for an answer, feeling the joy beginning to rub on him.

He didn’t know how much time he spent playing with her, ticking her belly and pinching her cheeks. But she was laughing, she was beautifully laughing and Viktor was laughing, too. He felt cloyed, overwhelmed, so full of emotions he couldn’t fit anything else. There were no worries, no stresses, and no need to define Life and Love. Right then, he felt complete.

He hadn’t even noticed when the hum of the shower had stopped, nor how much time Yuuri had been staring at him from the bathroom’s door frame, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, smiling to himself. By that time, the little girl had fallen asleep, and she was clutching Viktor’s finger in her tiny hand, occasionally taking it to her mouth to suck on it affectionately. He was fascinated.

“Seems you get along quite well, huh?” Yuuri chuckled softly, hugging him from behind, and planting a kiss to his temple. He seemed to be feeling better.

“Yeah, Lori is perfect”

“Lori?”

“That’s how I named her”

“Vitya, no” Yuuri sat beside him on the sofa, and Viktor got to see the previous worry back in his eyes “We can’t name her, love. She’s not ours”

“Yeah, but…” he debated if he should say the following words, but they just burst out before he could find a gentler way to phrase it “…what if she was?”

Yuuri blinked, staring at him with what he recognized as disbelief, gaze torn between his husband and the baby on his arms.

“What??”

“Yuuri, darling…wouldn’t you like to be a father? We talked about this already, and you said you would like to someday…” the look in Yuuri’s eyes made him stop mid-sentence.

“Oh, Vitya” he sighed rubbing his face, giving a long sighed onto his own hands “I would love to, you know I do, but I just…this is so sudden! I still have one or two more years at skating, I don’t know if I could handle a baby and my career, I just…”

“But we can do it together, Yuuri! Together we can do anything!”

“A baby is not a joking matter, Viktor. We can’t just try. Maybe we should wait until I retire…”

“But look at her!” Viktor hugged her close, as if someone may try to take her away from him “Lori is so beautiful! And she needs us!”

“I think that Lori-” he stopped himself “the baby, needs a family who will take good care of her…You are my coach, and you are just as busy as me. And I’m afraid…”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid to be a bad parent”

Viktor saw the beginning of tears shining in his husband’s eyes, and he immediately closed the space between them, letting him hold Lori so that he could hug him instead. He had been selfish and impulsive, he knew Yuuri was an anxious, insecure person, and he hadn’t considered his emotions. The idea of being parents was way too overwhelming for him to decide in just one night. In fact, it was way too hurried for anyone. He was being irrational and acting out of mere raw emotions. He needed to think things out.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, watching Yuuri’s gaze getting lost in Lori as well, but immediately forcing himself to look away “You are right…we shouldn’t hurry things up”

For the next week after they contacted the authorities and left the baby at their custody, Viktor wasn’t the same as before.

He knew he shouldn’t act so mourning, he hadn’t lost anything. His life was just like it was before, and he had always been a happy man. He still had Yuuri, his friends, skating…yet, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the feeling of emptiness.

He returned to his habit of watching his old routines. Only that he did it every day, and he spent an alarming amount of hours at it. And when Yuuri walked in, tracing his fingertips down his neck and kissing him soothingly, Viktor didn’t stand up to take him to bed. He just stood there, silent, eyes fixed on the screen.

He noticed his husband was conflicted too, but they just seemed unable to deal with the commotion together. They didn’t talk about it. He would sometimes find Yuuri in the kitchen plainly staring at the wall, the kettle boiling and whistling loudly in the stove, asking to be turned off. But the man would just stay still, in trance, holding the cup and the tea bag in hand but not moving at all, lost in thought.

One day, Viktor had decided to go for a walk. Sometimes, staring at the sea cleared his thoughts a bit. But the salty scent of the water didn’t seem to help at the moment. He returned to the apartment with his hopes down, trying not to sulk as he opened the door, so that Yuuri didn’t feel even worst at the sight. But as soon as he got in, the false solemnity of his face broke into curiosity, as he saw a bunch of papers sprawled on top of the coffee table, and his husband sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed.

“What’s this?” Viktor asked, warily, taking a document into his hands.

“Read”

His eyes widened, and he put down the paper to stare at Yuuri in disbelief.

They were adoption papers.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his voice a thread.

Yuuri stood up coyly, with tears in his eyes, and in no second Viktor was hugging him close, kissing him, and crying a little bit himself, too.

The paperwork took weeks, but after signing many documents, answering many questions, and buying many baby items online, Lori was finally at home.

They talked to Yakov, and asked him if he could be Yuuri’s coach whenever things got busy. Mari was glad to help, too, and took good care of Lori when her parents were way too busy with competitions. Yuuko offered some help as well as soon as she heard the news, being so happy for her friend to finally experience the joy of parenthood, and willingly giving him a hand whenever he needed.

Even Yurio was enamored by the baby girl, and sometimes he held her and played with her when they took her to the practices.

And Viktor? Viktor was obsessed. Viktor would pamper his daughter and rant about how he was PERSONALLY going to teach her how to skate as soon as she could stand on her feet.

“We are the luckiest people in the world” He would always say, watching his husband as he changed her diapers or lulled her to sleep between his arms.

Because, from that moment on, Viktor had a new definition for Life and Love.

Life and Love were ephemeral, volatile, and constantly building themselves, changing, morphing, absorbing more and more meanings, smells, eye colors and feelings.

Life and Love would always have different significances.

And, maybe, he may have found his third L.



Now I can’t take Lori out of my head…what did u do to me gurl. You just gave me a killing headcanon 

his eyes leak night // acomaf

his eyes leak night
stars collide when he blinks
worlds shatter when he moves
moons spill from his gaze

her heart leaks sorrow
he holds her close when she cries
until universes tremble when she breathes
and fire and ice spill from her fingertips

she heals his gaping wounds
and he uplifts her until she is new
and they are a force of nature
their love could make the world crumble

and when darkness comes to claim them
their heads are held up high
their fingers are entwined like their lives
like their souls, their existences

when she is ripped from his grasp
when all forces try to split them apart
when he feels his soul ripped in two
they will survive

but barely

“until we meet again -
because we must;
because you are the only force
that ties me to this earth”

“i will always come back to you
you are my salvation
you are mine
and i am yours”

Forever

Series: Little Witch Academia

Characters: Lotte & Sucy

Words: 3,904

Genres: Romance, Hurt/Comfort

UPDATE: Reblogged with minor grammatical fixes, as well as end notes.

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE. ANOTHER PIECE. And it’s not for my Diakko one, nor is it the Hannah/Barbara one I promised. DAMMIT. Ah, what the heck. Sulotte is amazing, but there’s like only two stories written for them so far. Guess this will be the third!

Contains Dragon Sucy. Takes place in @theneonflower‘s Years Later AU.

Dedicated to Neon, @hanasaku-shijin, @azurathemagician, my bro @megamanofnumbers, and all the wonderful folks in the LWA fandom!

————

Forever


It is late into the night, with Lotte humming happily to herself as she ties knots on a pair of orange and blue threads. To her right, her lantern faerie is curiously poking at a finished violet and red misanga.

Halting her progress, she reaches out to tickle her faerie’s chin before moving her hand over to the misanga. She picks it up and kisses it softly, smiling as the person it reminds her of fills her thoughts and warms her heart.

Lotte glances over her roommates, both which are sound asleep. Akko is tossing and turning like usual, while Sucy remains eerily still, arms crossed over her chest.

Lotte gets up from the desk and walks over to Sucy’s bedside. She kneels next to her sleeping figure to admire every feature - every color - making up the poison witch she has grown to adore so much.

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The Captive Dragon - Part 1

Part 1!!!!

So italics mean that you are talking Mind-to-Mind. It’s something that you can only do in dragon form.

———-

There was an ancient legend, a story as old as time, of a brave prince who slayed the dragon to save the princess. This story is a little bit different than the one that you probably know. This story is one about a dragon enslaved by princess in order to save her family. Princess Leonora Draga, the only princess to ever capture one of your kind. You were brought out to entertain her and her guests, forced to raze villages in her name. You had no choice, you never did. You were forced to obey, all because of the dark magic the bends you to her will. Your only hope is that someone, someday will come and save you.

 ———-

You let out a roar, your wings fluttering behind you. Your little sister, bound, chained, and surrounded by knights lets out a little whimper. Scrambling into your human form, you lunge forward.

“Please! Let her go!!”

Letting out a chuckle Princess Leonora and her knights step forward, “And why would I do that? I’ve just caught a dragon; no way am I giving it up”

You let out a sob, running your fingers through your hair, “She’s just a hatchling! Please!”

Your sister lets out another pitiful cry as she strains against the magic chains that keep her on the ground. “If I’m going to release her, I’ll need something in return. Do you have anything to trade for your sister’s life?”

“My freedom”

The princess raised her eyebrows, “And why is your life worth letting her free? One dragon is the same as any other”

You growl, “I-I can breathe fire. A hatchling can’t breathe fire; she doesn’t have a human form either; she won’t be of any use to you!”

“I suppose you have a point, dragon. I will release her … after you bind yourself to me” Stepping forward you bare your throat to the Princess. She reaches into her saddlebag and pulls out a jewel encrusted collar, “Now, once I place this on you, you will be bound to me. Your magic will be bound to my commands, and your life to mine. You will not be able to disobey me, and I will be the only one able to remove this collar”

With a shudder, you nod, a single tear slipping down your face when the collar locks into place. You can feel your magic lock down, the only thing that you still have control over is your fire and your dragon form, everything else is gone. You can’t feel your family ties, and you can’t feel the elemental magic that flows through every dragon.

“Will you let her go now?” The princess waves her hand and the chains release your sister. She lets out a mournful roar, “Go back to mom and dad. Tell them what happened. Remember that I love you all, but you need to go”

She lets out another cry, but backs away when the knights raise their swords and spears. Leonora laughs at your tears, attaching an enchanted chain to your collar and starts dragging you away. “Come along, my dragon. It is time to start your training.”

That was three years ago. Three years since you had been free, since you had felt your magic at its fullest.

“Y/N”

Your large wings flutter and you raise your long neck, placing it on the platform that Leonora is standing on. Being kept in the dark, dank dungeon, the only way in is to fly. There are no stairs leading down to where you sleep, only a set of stairs leading from the castle to the platform, the same one that Leonora is currently standing on.

Yes, Princess?

“It is Queen Leonora now. Mother has suffered an … untimely … demise. Anyway, I have need of you. Guests are coming and wish to see my dragon”

Of course. How should I appear, human or dragon?

“You will kneel by my feet as a human, and once they arrive I will have you shift”

You close your eyes and suppress a shudder, the forced transformations are always the most painful, but according to Leonora the pain makes her appear more powerful.

As you wish. May I ask who I shall be entertaining?

“You may. King Nicholas Fury and his Knights, The Avengers”

Interesting choice of guests …

You let out a shriek as pain lances through you, Leonora using the magic that binds you to her to hurt you.

“You will not speak out of turn when my guests arrive. The Avengers and King Fury have not been to my kingdom in many years. You will not ruin my chance to marry one of the Knights with your insolence.”

Of course, Queen Leonora. I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you

She sniffs, “I can hear the sarcasm in your voice. It would do you well to remember what happened the last time you embarrassed me in front of a guest.”

You duck your head, letting out a soft mournful whine, laying your head down once again. “I’ll be good. I promise

“Good. I expect you to be ready by tomorrow at sunrise.”

Nodding you wait until Leonora leaves before bringing your head back down to your nest. Hopefully tomorrow the Knights will be kind. Hopefully the Knights will be kind, and whatever they need from Leonora doesn’t upset her, you don’t know how much longer you can survive her wrath.

Kneeling beside the throne wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was infinitely better than being chained up as a dragon.

“Your Majesty, the guests have just arrived at the gate”

Leonora grins, her eyes taking on a feral glint. She was on the hunt for a husband, and you had a feeling that she was going to try and trap them. Whoever the Queen sunk her claws into would soon end up just as much of a prisoner as you. You pity the poor soul.

———-

Part 2

Have a reply post.  :D  I think that’s all?  And I hope I replied to everyone WITHIN the post.  I end up doing replies in weird broken ways and there’ve been occasions where I’ve put the reply but haven’t actually said anything about it… >_>;  xD

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A (Short) Compendium of Dangerous Dragons and Drakes

Throughout history there have been many mythological creatures that inspire awe and fear in the hearts of man. yet, only one such beast has brought true terror with only its name. Legends tell of many with scales as tough as shields, claws as sharp as swords. Mighty wings that black out the sky and their very breath a harbinger of their destruction.

Below, we have compiled a list of dragons created from our followers to inspire any story you as both a player or dungeon master might create.

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