so he says farewell to the old

you know what would have been great? if ron got sorted into slytherin.

imagine– we have this kid on the train, the first friend harry meets, with his corned beef sandwiches and smudged nose. ron is eleven years old and he wants gryffindor, because he’s a weasley and that’s what always happens. but it doesn’t happen.

what a way to redeem slytherin house– or, god, at least complicate it. because ron is petty. he is mean and sharp and ambitious and jealous– and he is loyal to the ends of the earth. he is all those things, and he is and always has been good.

potter becomes before weasley in the alphabet, so harry says not slytherin please and gets told might as well be gryffindor. percy and fred and george are all sitting there in red and gold, ruffling the already-ruffled hair of the boy who lived, smug, and then ron sits down and the hat spits out slytherin!

c'mon it’d be fun. just imagine–

  • the weasleys freaking out– but even that first christmas molly sends him a sweater in beautiful green and silver.

  • snape taking points from gryffindor when ron breaks rules or mouths off. “i’m in your house.” “hm, couldn’t tell which weasley it was…” /drifts away

  • sitting with harry in potions and in flying– whatever classes they happen to share. meeting up to study. scarfing down their breakfasts at separate tables so they can go hang out in the empty classrooms before the day starts. hermione reads while they play exploding snap.
    • the trio signing up for all the same electives third year. this friendship being something they earn and work for; not just the one that looked easiest. (not to bash canon ron&harry, the bros to end all bros, but by putting this very obvious obstacle between them– it makes it that much clearer to the reader that this is a love worth fighting for, because they’re fighting for it).
    • ron being jealous that harry and hermione get to share this house, this home, these hours, while he’s stuck with malfoy and parkinson and goyle– because that would eat him up some days, some months, this insecure kid who’s been the last at everything all his life. this kid who always leaves and always comes back.

  • ron, who constantly compares himself to his brothers– not as smart, not as popular, not as good. one more nail in that coffin, here, yeah? he’s not a prefect, not a quidditch star, not a troublemaker– and even when he becomes those things, someone else has always gotten there first
    • well, i guess he got to this house first at least

  • ron still snaps at snape in potions, after hermione’s been ignored three times, “you know, sir, i think hermione might know the answer.” he still pulls the bars off harry’s window with a stolen, flying car. he still shows harry around the burrow shyly, not knowing what a wonder a warm home is. he still stands up in the shrieking shack as best as he can with a broken leg and tells a mass murderer that if he wants harry he’ll have to go through him first. 
    • ron weasley is a lot of things, but one of them is absolutely a true friend.

  • in their second year:
    • when everyone calls harry the heir, they eye ron at his side and sniff.
    • when hermione lays petrified in the medical ward, ron sits at her side and reads her homework assignments aloud and thinks my house this was my house
    • when ron hugs ginny’s damp, shaking frame after the chamber, ron says sorry and sorry and are you okay and i’m so sorry and ginny calls him an idiot.

  • the trio spends more time in the library with hermione, since ron can’t come to gryffindor tower to study, and homework remains a thing that has to happen. fred and george constantly try to sneak him into the tower anyway. 
    • “c'mon, ronnykins, you belong here, you deserve it, no one’s gonna fuss, it’s your BIRTHRIGHT,” and ron fusses and rolls his eyes at them
    • and then in fourth year in one of those periods where he’s not talking to harry and harry’s not talking to him– he just snaps at the twins
      • because it’s not, alright?
      • not his birthright, not his house, and maybe no one would fuss if he snuck in, maybe no one would care, and that makes it worse not better, because then he’s just that weasley who should’ve been gryffindor
      • and isn’t
    • (and harry overhears this caterwauling, feels his heart fall to his toes, and goes and awkwardly asks ron if he wants to go a few laps on his firebolt). 
    • (because, god, harry-the-chosen-one, harry-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs, harry-who’ll-save-us-all– he knows what it’s like to have should have beens on your shoulders, and he knows what it’s like to not be wanted).

  • ron cheers for gryffindor during quidditch matches in those first few years, and sits with hagrid and hermione and neville. harry’s seeker, and fred and george are beaters, and ginny becomes chaser eventually, and honestly screw the slytherin team. they have each and every one of them said disparaging things about ron’s mother.
    • harry and hermione badger ron into trying out for keeper fourth year; he and harry have been practicing on the quidditch pitch because its a non-library-shaped place to hang out where both of them are allowed. ron makes the slytherin roster, and malfoy grudgingly provides ron a team broom after the captain chews him out for a bit.
      • “he may be a weasley, but he’s our keeper, don’t you want to win, draco”
    • but the sort of things they spit in the locker room, the words the players hiss or snigger, the slurs that come easy to their tongues– ron would like to say that he considered just walking out of the cesspit, but instead he snipes and sasses and shouts and sometimes tries to spell slugs at the worst of them. 
      • it doesn’t do much, that one irritated voice of protest– except that it does. and he’s got a new (hand-me-down) wand, after the gilderoy fiasco, so the slugs even come out the right end.
    • fred gives him a black eye with a bludger one time (though ron does manage to block the quaffle) and molly sends a howler to gryffindor table with the morning post. (“RON DID YOU TATTLE”) (“IT WAS CLEARLY PERCY, FRED, SIT DOWN”)
      • (the weasleys often have family conversations across the great hall, with hufflepuffs and ravenclaws covering their ears long-sufferingly between them)

  • in the lake, it’s still ron hanging there in the water, still and bloated. it’s still harry’s heart that stutters in his chest, for all it’s just a game, just a game, just a game, right?

  • ron listens hard and tries to talk himself out of fist fights, all that next year in the slytherin common room as they read aloud rita skeeter articles.

  • when hermione calls dumbledore’s army to its first session in that pub, there are green scarves in that crowd– ron and one of the beaters who ron’s gotten to help glare to rest of the slytherin quidditch team into submission.

  • ron beats draco to being prefect (i think i remember it was dumbledore and not mcgonagall who seemed to award prefect status– snape doesn ’t get a say).
    • percy is SO PROUD, as usual, but so are fred and george. “did you see the little malfoy git? green with shame, my god.”

  • when harry has the dream about sirius, ron isn’t there to wake. but when draco’s pulled out of bed to be a professional bully– er, i mean inquisitorial squad member– ron follows at a careful distance and curses draco from behind. 
    • they ride thestrals over london. harry finds the prophecy and ron thinks about the sorts of things that get decided at your birth.  
    • sirius black was a son of slytherin who had a lion living in his chest that he couldn’t hide away. 
    • ron was meant to be gryffindor, and through a haze of injury and fear he watches sirius die just out of harry’s reach.

  • just imagine: ron with his temper and his sharp words and his fierce loyalty. ron who looks into the mirror of erised and sees house cups and prefect badges and ambitions earned– he could belong in slytherin. there is nothing wrong with wanting things, and he wants them so bad.

  • there are so many reasons to fight a war, and so many ways. harry and his sacrifices, his loving resignation. hermione’s good right hook and bottomless bag of supplies. luna, brilliant and a bit batty. lee jordan’s radio and mcgonagall’s burning patience and brittle, certain bones.

  • just imagine: when the last battle comes, there is a slytherin on the field who is not snape.

  • when draco and his parents walk away, in that last battle, ron–
    • who slept in the same dormitory as the boy for six years
    • who heard draco’s nightmares and saw him paling and desperate all sixth year
    • who is as pureblooded as lucius’s spoiled whelp
    • who remembers grimacing at the thought of squibs
    • who has known magic all his life
    • who spotted draco penning letters home to his mother every sunday and hiding them when the other boys could see–
    • ron sees them going.
      • he sounds no alarms. he says no farewells.
      • he turns back to his friends, and his fight, and lets them be.

  • just imagine: when harry kneels on the train platform and his second son asks him “but what if i get sorted slytherin, dad?” harry can say, “the bravest man i ever knew was in slytherin house. whatever you are, wherever you go, we’re going to be so proud of you." 
    • and they can both gaze over to where ron is squawking beside his daughter’s trolley of luggage because crookshanks (who will live to be forty eight million years old) has latched onto his shins with a violent fondness.
| Jeon JungKook | Beauty and the Beast! AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Genre: Romance/ angst.
Warnings: none.
Word count: 3k
A/N: This is shamefully late and unbelievably long. I didn’t follow the exact story line so it’s safe to say that it’s my modified version of the fairytale.

Little did he know, little did she see. Black ivory and no chance to flee, what a daunting task it came to be. The corners of his mouth twisted in a mischievous grin, looking upon their little sleepy heads. Kissing goodbyes and wiping farewell tears.

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Canon Garashir Dates in DS9

In which I compile a list of episodes that feature Garak and Bashir’s weekly replimat lunches, or some other co-dining/drinking experience.

1x03 Past Prologue - Their first date is also Garak’s first appearance, and if you look at a list of Andrew Robinson’s episodes, pretty much all his early appearances are just ‘cute date with Julian.’

2x05 Cardassians - Minutes before Garak is bitten by a wild Cardassian child. This is also the episode where Garak shows up in Julian’s quarters in the middle of the night and he doesn’t mind at all because adventure.

2x18 Profit and Loss - Obviously the Garak/Bashir date is the high point of this episode unless you’re into Quark’s wacky multicultural love life… which, I am, but let’s move on.

2x22 The Wire - Yeah okay this whole episode is a literal hurt/comfort fanfic except it’s canon, of course they have a date in it.

3x02 The Search, Part II - Wow Garak, you’ve worn the same outfit to your last three dates with Julian, are you okay? I know in this screenshot they’re only on their way to or from their date, but look how cute they are! As a bonus, in this episode, Garak also goes on a ‘date’ with Sisko because exclusivity is for other plain, simple people.

3x05 Second Skin - Oh no, still the same outfit? Garak, for shame! Garak’s mug is a different shape from usual here though. 

3x18 - Distant Voices - I included two screenshots from this date because I wanted both the orienting shot that shows their drinks and food, but this is also the really cute date where Garak gives Julian the holonovel with the shiny bow on it and it’s Julian’s birthday. It’s all pretty much so adorable I’m going to explode.

3x20 Improbable Cause - Discussing Julius Caesar over unidentifiable food, Julian and Garak are the most literate couple pair of dear friends in Star Trek for sure. 

4x10 Our Man Bashir - Old Earth formalwear date episode where Julian makes out with everyone but Garak, disappointingly. But Julian does shoot Garak, which is always good for a laugh.

5x14 In Purgatory’s Shadow - Hey, it’s a three-way date with Ziyal, fun! And the weird mugs are back, I’m not disappointed at all.

6x01 A Time to Stand - Okay okay, I know it’s not a date, there was no Garashir date in this episode, but by this time in the show, they had really shifted away from this relationship for various reasons and all the screenshots are so explodey, this one is a nice reprieve. No one is sad to see this, right? Right.

7x16 Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges - I’m so glad that Garak and Julian found time to have one last date in the final season for old times’ sake.

7x25 What You Leave Behind - Again, not a date, but it’s their farewell scene! As Memory Alpha puts it: ‘Garak tells Bashir he will be staying on Cardassia and thanks him for his friendship over the years, admitting he’ll miss their lunchtime chats. Bashir says he hopes they will see each other again. Garak, ever cynical, says he hopes so too, but wouldn’t count on it.’ I’m not crying, you’re crying! Plus, this screenshot looks like they’re harmonizing and who wouldn’t have loved to see a musical episode of DS9? (Vic Fontaine doesn’t count.)

Let me know if I’ve forgotten any, but clearly the peak of their on-screen relationship was in season 3, when they had 4 on-screen dates. I mean, Garak’s role in later seasons was much more substantial than ‘cute Julian date’ but I’m sure no one would have minded more dates later on. Oh well! 

Thanks to for the screenshots!

jointhefight  asked:

Jeffmads & "things you said when we were lost"? (making up my own lol)

James wanders at night. He touches everything in the apartment, sometimes twice, as if to remind himself that everything is really there - as if to remind himself that these are solid objects, that they’re real, that they exist. Maybe it’s to convince himself that he exists in a corporeal form. Maybe it’s just ritualistic at this point. Even he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t wake Thomas up for his nonsense. He knows Thomas would fret about his pacing. He knows Thomas would get in the way.  It’s easier just to let Thomas sleep. This way there’s no awkward questions or prying eyes, just him in the silence of a sleeping world, running his hands along the back of the couch and weeping softly.

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3rd and last page of this particular section about Erwin and Levi. Continued on from where my last post left off

Isayama: Then in vol 18, when Levi tried to take over command of the mission and Erwin wouldn’t listen, Levi was a bit angry at Erwin’s behaviour. Levi’s line, “I trust your judgement,” had a bit of an angry, “If something happens, this is your responsibility,” mixed with it. And right after, when he broke up Eren and Jean’s fight by using more violence than was necessary, it was actually Levi taking out that anger on them (laughs).

—That was very unfortunate for Eren and Jean (laughs). But the fact that Levi can take his emotions out on his new squad, you could say it’s because he has such a familiarity with them.

Isayama: They don’t treat him like a monster, so I think he feels a trust for his new squad that he’s never had before. 

[TN: So Levi didn’t have as much trust for his old squad as he does for his new one? I wonder if his old squad looked up to him too much that it just put Levi under pressure in a bad way]

Levi noticed Erwin’s unexpected intentions, had just said farewell to Kenny, so he must have been feeling a sense of loss. And his new squad may have buried that crevice in his heart. That’s why in vol 17, even though he was punched by Historia, there was a bit of “You worked hard” and “You’ve done well” mixed in with his “Thank you”.

—That scene with Levi’s smile was a truly warm scene. And Levi’s liege, Erwin, begins pushing forward to solve the mystery of the titans.

Isayama: His unconscious dream became a conscious one, and as a human, the stable side of him was present even more than before. But even so, Erwin is not the kind of person who prioritizes his own dream. He follows through with his responsibilities, and when the time comes Erwin is able to give up on his dream and make the best decision. 

If we were to compare, Erwin is a character in a similar position to Armin. Armin is chasing a dream that is pure and fresh, while Erwin’s is drenched with something very personal, you could say. 

His father was killed because of a slip of his own tongue. He had delusions of a sort in response to that, and acted to achieve his own private goals. But before he knew it, he was at the top of the scouting legion and giving orders to subordinates. There was a part of him asking himself, “What am I even doing this for”. He was a paradox, a self-contradiction. So when he faced his subordinates, telling them, ‘for the sake of humanity’s future’, he felt like he was lying to them. He has been struggling with these conflicts and anguish all along the way.

Au Revoir

Over the last few years I’ve said
Goodbye to someone
I didn’t realise it at the time
That it was goodbye
Looking back I can see it now
With clarity
The farewell though was gradual
A slow departure
We’d still be together daily
But I knew it wasn’t the same
Knew things had changed
Were still changing
It was a clear conflict
So goodbye it had to be
I had to move on
But doesn’t every goodbye have
A complimentary hello?
Out with the old, in with the new
Onwards and upwards
As they say
Onwards it was
Upwards it certainly wasn’t
I miss my old friend
He was the one person I knew inside out
But he had to leave
Things had drastically changed
This old dog needed to learn new tricks
And he couldn’t help me
So we said goodbye
I still see him
Usually just subconsciously now though
In my dreams
My memories
I guess I always will
He was such a big part of me for fifty plus years
But he had to go
So we said our goodbye
I still appreciate what he did for me
But we’ll probably never meet again
In this life
But it had to be
Circumstances conspired
To require
An unexpected
Au revoir
Until we meet again
On the other side
When for eternity we
Will be one again

he is only three

alternatively titled: on the subject of rickon’s “wildness”

the thing about rickon is he’s often perceived/analyzed through a lens of adulthood that implies that his wildness and rage are just as they are (which is already off base).  rickon is a three year old at the start of the series, and turns four before the end of AGOT, and disappears before he turns five.  i can’t speak for everyone else, but i’ve certainly not got a lot of experience with three-five-year-olds.  maybe someone who does can address this a little more clearly than i can, but here’s my big crazy conclusion about reading rickon: to imply that he’s wild and angry and out of control is really…not accurate actually?

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Tender Love

An optional bias scenario inspired by the lyrics of EXO’s Tender Love. I was nervous to post this since it’s a little bit different from how I usually write but I hope you all like it!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Even in a morning with little sleep, I wake up early to give you a morning call.

You reached blindly for the cause of the disturbance, patting your bedside table until your fingers found your cellphone. His groggy voice was the first to greet you every morning.

“Wake up; it’s time for school,” he droned.

“How do you know I’m not up already?” you teased while stretching.

“You always hit snooze twice, but even then you don’t get up. At least I know you’ll answer my calls.”

What you didn’t know was that he woke up extra early every morning for your wake up call. Even when he only received four hours of sleep due to his scattered insomnia, hearing your voice comforted him.

Come, come to the inside of the sidewalk. I pull you just in case you get hurt.

“Hey, be careful.” He put his hand around your waist and tugged you to the inside of the sidewalk, causing you to narrowly miss hitting the stop sign.

“Oh, thanks.” You gave him a sheepish grin and he shook his head at your inattentiveness but was unable to repress his smile.

“Do you want to come in to eat?” he asked, knowing that you had assignments to complete but wanting to selfishly spend more time with you.

“Sure!” you’d always respond, because it never mattered where you were. His home was your home, as yours was to his; home was wherever the heart was.

Even when we eat, I cleanly put a spoon and chopsticks on top of a napkin for you.

“You’re so messy,” he chided, although there was nothing but affection to back his statement.

He used chopsticks to fish for your favorite additives: chicken, soft cabbage, carrots — no radish, or you’d spit it out onto the dining table — bits of bean curd even though you said you hated tofu but he always found a way to sneak it into his cooking anyway.

He placed the bowl in front of you, but you always refrained from eating for five minutes when food was served because you didn’t like it to be too hot, and he knew that.

He carefully blew on the spoonful of soup and placed it in your mouth, his free hand stopped at your chin just in case. You had long ceased trying to reject this for it was a habit. When you were younger, you had gotten into an accident causing you to be admitted to the hospital. He stayed by your bedside whenever he could and helped feed you your meals.

Perhaps that was the time that you realized you were in love with him. Sometimes he would skip class to visit you, to let you know how things were going at school. You would ask him about make-up assignments, but he would always tell you not to worry about them, and that the teachers understood your situation and simply didn’t provide you with any. At times when you couldn’t fall asleep, he would hum simple tunes until your eyelids swung and you drifted off peacefully. Only then would he silently slip out of the room and back to his home, lugging his backpack that contained double the weight and double the work that would’ve been a burden for anyone else, but never for you.

From the first second I started liking you, every day passes by wonderfully like a beautiful dream.

His worn couch doubled as a bed, something to welcome you into dormancy after a mountain of worksheets and study notes. He gathered blankets from your niche in the hidden corner of his room that you thought he hadn’t discovered and wrapped you up gently, wishing that it were his arms instead.

“Sweet dreams angel,” he would whisper while placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

I pretended we had just a close sibling-like relationship and hid my feelings by introducing you as my little sister.

“Guys, this is my best friend.” The words felt uncomfortable, almost stuck on his tongue but he forced them out with a smile nonetheless.

The title somewhat stung but you accepted it because that’s what you were. Best friends since childhood, yet you longed for something more, something greater, and for some reason you felt like he did too. That’s why you had made up your mind to confess to him that day.

You swapped introductions with his friends before quickly excusing yourself. Fetching a neatly folded slip of rose paper from your bag and waiting for him to finish conversing with them, you couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

“She’s the one you always talk about, right?”

“She’s just as pretty as you said…”

A timid blush crept onto your cheeks.

“Hey, do you have a crush on her?”

Suddenly, all you could hear was the intense thumping of your heart, anticipating the moment that you had been waiting for for years.

“What? No way, she’s like my little sister.”

And just like that, everything shattered. The written confession was crumpled in your hand. His words tasted of poison, yet the venom only numbed more than anything else. It was in that moment that you realized you had never heard the words ’I love you’ spilled from his lips, never had you felt the warmth of a lover’s embrace from his frame, never had you had the privilege of his gentle lips upon yours because you were nothing more to him than a little sister — someone who one takes care of because of responsibility, who gets looked down upon and receives love in a sympathetic-like fashion.

You swallowed your emotions whole and proceeded to tell them that you needed to leave early. He sensed the tremor in your voice and the glossiness of your eyes and the way your hands twitched whenever you were anxious or upset.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you aside.

You shook your head and avoided his gaze, muttering something even you couldn’t distinguish. In your haste to leave you had dropped the love note on the floor but snatched it in a moment’s notice.

His eyes caught sight of his name in beautiful calligraphy, the calligraphy that he so insisted you teach him several summers ago even though he knew he could never reach half of the finesse that you possessed. Calligraphy decorated with tiny hearts that represented yours now in tiny pieces, and everything he wanted to reveal was caught in his throat as he watched you shuffle out the building. He did not follow you. He could not follow you because his feet were agonizingly rooted to the ground.

That was his first mistake.

My close friends already noticed, endlessly urging me, “If I love you I should courageously tell you.“ After I regretfully let you go, my feelings are misunderstood.

Things were different since then. Excuses were made, plans were shifted, visits were fewer and farther in between. On the surface, one would’ve never noticed that the friendship had been stifled because the jokes persisted, the smiles persisted, the memories still persisted. He was your first love, still is your first love, and that would never change.

The time to leave home came before you knew it, and you had already packed your luggage into the minivan, ready to depart to the airport to college campus for your first semester. He met you on your lawn to say goodbye and he couldn’t shake the ache in his heart and the words that longed to tumble out of his mouth, yet he held his peace.

"So I guess this is goodbye,” you stated.

“Don’t say that. We’ll see each other next summer, right? And you’ll keep in touch?”

You weren’t sure how firm you were on the promise but nodded nevertheless. Breathing in his scent once again in a deep hug, you departed for a new chapter in your life.

Before boarding the airplane, you took one last look around. Half of you wanted for him to be there, to stop you, to beg you to stay but you realized that this wasn’t a movie and not everyone received a happy ending. What if you had confessed to him that day? Maybe things would’ve been different now. Or maybe he was only supposed to be an unrequited love.

But more importantly, why hadn’t he said anything? It was his last chance before you left. He knew that eventually, the two of you would drift apart and it pained him to think so, but it was only the truth. But he was afraid. He was so, so afraid. Especially now, when the pair of you were grown and old enough to make your own decisions and choose a path in life. Away from each other, how would feelings transpire? Being apart would do the heart no good; a revelation before a farewell would leave the soul at unrest. So he bit his tongue.

That was his second mistake.

I want to love but I can’t say it. I want to give you tender love.

It was a foreign feeling not being with him. You had shared a space for so long you forgot what it was like to be alone. Sometimes your mind would wander back to him and you’d wonder, how is he doing right now? What is he doing right now? Is he well? Does he miss me? Or has he forgotten about me?

He sat at his desk in his bedroom, working on polishing his lecture notes. College wasn’t easy but at least he could relax in the comfort of his own home. His stomach grumbled and was in need of attention so he acquired some food from the pantry to appease it. On the way back, a glimmer caught his eye. It was the sunlight reflecting off of the zipper of a hoodie of yours tucked safety within your niche. He realized that you had forgotten to clean it out when you left, and that although it always sat there, he rarely touched it unless he was bringing you something. But something propelled him to dig through it that day, and so he did.

It was mostly your essentials and then some, with junk piled on top. He was intent on tidying it up when he saw a small rose note crumpled at the bottom of a drawstring bag. Memories of that day flashed through his mind as he smoothed out the piece of paper and read it for the first time, eyes close to tears as he took in your inner dialogue. The ink was long dried yet the imprint you had made in his heart was freshly stained and bleeding. Words reminiscent of his beauty; of how the gentle summer breeze made the tendrils of his hair dance in the wind; of how maybe he thought his eyes were plain but to you they contained the entire galaxy and beyond; of how you loved how eloquently he spoke during your heart-to-heart talks at two in the morning, his words dripping out like honey, golden drops of sweet revelation; but most importantly, of how you loved him.

It was in that moment that he realized two things: firstly, that he was an idiot for letting you go; but above all, that he loved you too. No, he didn’t just love you, dear God he was in love with you, and he’d be damned if he tried to convince himself otherwise. He was in love with you and your soul and every ounce of your being. And no amount of distance could change the fact that he was absolutely infatuated with the idea that he wanted to wake up next to you and fall asleep with you tucked safely in his arms every single day for the rest of his life. He was in love with you.

And he was going to do something about it.

That’s why he found himself sitting in the airport terminal at four in the morning with nothing on him but the ticket and the clothes on his back. He missed your smile and the way you would shyly hide your laugh around others but not around him because you felt comfortable enough, and he longed for your touch and your presence because things just didn’t feel the same without it.

The tips of my eyelashes face down as I spill the words. In that moment, my heartbeat becomes loud. My face is burning, my ears are on fire. My mentality turns into glass, obviously broken.

Frantic pounding was heard at your door. Your name was being yelled repeatedly from the other side, so you rushed to open it as he stumbled through the doorframe.

He locked eyes with you, panting and flushed from his exhausting journey but you could only stare at him in bewilderment.

“What… what are you doing here?”

He swallowed roughly to steady himself.

“I love you.”

“… w-what?”

“Oh my god, I love you.”

He closed the gap between you two, holding you and lingering just before your lips as his voice came out at a whisper.

“But do you still…?”

“Still what?” you breathed, searching his eyes for any indication of an answer.

“Still love me. Do you still love me?” His expression was anguished, as if he was struggling to grasp your current state and afraid of what you might say next.

Your reply consisted of closed eyes and parted lips. It was like a puzzle that had finally found its missing piece, the last scrap that revealed the ultimate picture and made everything click into place. His lips conveyed a million ’I’m sorry’s and ’I love you’s but none of it mattered because they meshed perfectly with yours, in-sync with a rhythm that was entirely your own and it made sense; everything made sense.

There are certain things in life that feel right because they are, and you’ve come to learn that he is one of them.

Tender love, deeper and more cautious than anyone else. I admit I love within my heart.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Note: Hope you liked it! If you did, please give it a like and/or reblog (any feedback at all really does mean the world!), and I’ll know you all want more scenarios like this in the future. :)


I’ll gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be with you all…

Angel VI - Writer!AU

Word count - 1311
Summary - Being the assistant of the writer Do Kyungsoo is rather.. interesting.

Chapters: (1) / (2) / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6) / (7) / (8) / (9) / (10)

“Good lord, all foods on a stick. What is that?!” You reply with a sarcastic ‘good morning’ as you try to cover it with your hair, but Yixing coming closer to examine doesn’t make you feel any less exposed to your gift this morning. “Did you meet a bloodsucker on the way here?! That is not a very discreet hickey.”

His reaction is exquisite, “More like Do Kyungsoo, the lifesucker.”

Memories of this morning come back to life, there has been a slight shift in ways to annoy each other when it comes to you two. Occasionally, Kyungsoo would still send you out to do meaningless things such as telling you to handwrite his perfectly printed schedule for the week, to just in the end tell you he can’t read it and use the printed version. All just to get on your bad side.

Then he has those days where he wakes up with the mood to make you flustered, to tease you. Just like today, when he attached his pouty lips to your collarbones just because you weren’t able to join him to his trip to Busan because you had an appointment with Yixing.

Yixing throws a scarf your direction and turns around telling you to cover it up, and when you tell him you are done he acts as if he has been holding up his breath for ages. “Thanks for letting me lend your scarf.”

“Believe me the pleasure is all mine, so now that all stains are.. ‘erased’.. let’s talk about the success of your short story! This has to be celebrated! So I think you shouldn’t be wearing baggy sweatpants tonight.” It amazes you how positive he can make you.

“Thank you so mu-”

Someone interrupts your words with repeated calls of your name, turning around you see someone unexpected standing in the doorway.


“Hyung! What are you doing here?” Jongin seems really out of breath, his hair is completely a mess though that kind of suits him.

“This is my place you punk,” he kicks his butt, “get out.”

Jongin ignores his words and just let’s his butt get kicked repeatedly while he points at your breathlessly but manages to talk, “I need you,” he pulls you with him.

“What? No! Dongsaeng is mine today.” Yixing protests but before he can even stop Jongin, he already has already turned around the corner with you following. “Kim Jongin I am older than you!”

Ignoring Yixing’s last words he shouts, “Goodbye, hyung!” quickly before the two of you completely disappear.

“Sorry for interrupting the two of you, I guess I just really wanted to speak to you.” He scratches the back of his head, “I kind of wanted to apologize and explain my behavior at the last party.”

“That’s okay,” you shrug as you hold a warm cup of tea between your hands blowing away the steam. Even though you said it’s no problem, judging by his expression he doesn’t feel the same way. Something is still bothering him.

“It’s just that.. I guess that I just envied you.” Him envying you? The son of a millionaire that can seriously bathe in freshly printed bills? He laughs when he sees your frowned face and continues explaining. “You see I got accepted in this fancy pants arts place for my dancing in France, which is my dream, but since my father is so opposed to me going I have to throw my chance in the bin.”

“Why are you letting him stop you though? If you want to go.. then just go.”

“It’s not that simple, I also have my g-”

You interrupt him, “I think it is that simple. I don’t see why his opinion about your future is more important than your own. I know he is important, he is your father anyway. But I think you are old enough to decide for yourself, besides are you willing to live with the regret of not going?” He says nothing. “I thought so. I should go now..”

Taking your cup in hand you bid him farewell as you get up to leave, right before you walk outside the door he calls you to a halt. “Oh and.. thank you.” He smiles.


“What is that hideous thing around your neck?” You can see his frown through the screen.

“Oh this?” your hand reaches the scarf that is around your neck to cover up, “it’s Yixings.”

“Well, take it off.”

Does he really want the whole world to see what he did to you or something? “No.”


“No.” You protest again.

Now.” He demands.


“Do you want me to mark you on a more visible spot next time?” He threatens, and even though he is an arrogant self-satisfied jerk.. he does always keep his word when it comes to stuff like this. “Wouldn’t that feel much better?”

“Not really no,” you try to reach for it again but he quickly holds it out of your reach. “Come on, Kyungsoo. I can’t show up with something like this tonight.”

His lips curve into a cheeky smile as he mumbles, “I don’t mind looking at it all night.” While holding his laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” But he laughs anyway. “Hey look, I am still in Busan I have to get something done with Junmyeon, okay? I won’t make it back home so you should go by yourself to the party. I will meet you there. I swear.” He teases you by placing his lips to the front camera and laughs before he says goodbye.

But where is he?

You are standing in one of the most beautiful dresses you have ever even laid eyes upon, while the party take place inside that has been thrown for you, and you are waiting for the man who promised you he’d be here. It has been over 2 hours and you have tried to reach his cellphone for at least 10 times now, yet he hasn’t picked up a single time. Yixing has tried to push you inside multiple times, but has failed every attempt to succeed.

At the moment, you are growing desperate. He promised he’d be there, and half an hour too late he can’t even text you to tell you why he’s running late? Or at least tell you he is late?

You decide to just head inside, with a heavy heart and a head down. What if something happened to him?

By the time you are back inside after all the people congratulating you and giving you compliments on how your short story has affected their perspectives, you get back to head over to Yixing, who welcomes you with open heart. Also concerned about your worries. “I can’t believe he said he’d come, I worked on this so hard for months and he just stood me up. I want to be mad at him, but what if it’s because something happened?” Right then someone catches your eyes.

“Junmyeon!” How did he get here? Wouldn’t he have driven with Kyungsoo to the party if they were together in Busan? Ignoring your question where Kyungsoo is, he instead congratulates you with a big hug. He obviously has consumed a lot, again. Like.. usually. “Junmyeon, you really need to tell me where Kyungsoo is.”

“Uhh..” he slurs, “the hospital.” You want to ask him if he is kidding. Ask him if he is serious. Make it clear for yourself that he isn’t saying random stuff because he is drunk. But when you ask him to confirm it, the words still don’t hit you. As if your world has stopped for a second and you can’t comprehend the information that is being passed to you right now. “I said the hospital!! Hospital!!”

“Then what the hell are you doing there! Why aren’t you with him?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

Junmyeon giggles, and shrugs. “ohhhh, it’s not him! It’s that Miyoung that got into an accident.”

A/N: Yea, after ages of not updating this story I kinda feel like this is a bad chapter but it gets extremely dramatic from here so hm.. it was so short it’s embarrassing. I will update the next one quickly, as an err.. christmas present :)?

Farewell, Samurai Jack. 2001 - 2017

To be completely honest, i wish this show have at least 15 episodes so Jack can spend much time with his old friends and the others he met before the last season, especially one of my characters the Scotsman, Jack didn’t even say goodbye to him :(

Oh well, what Genndy Tartakovsky doing is a good thing, he cares about the story, he wants to end of his journey, better to die a legend than live long enough to see yourself become a studio cash cow *cough*Powerpuff Girls Reboot*cough*

Thank you Genndy Tartakovsky for the amazing ending, and thank you all of the wonderful cast & crew who helped make this possible (and of course we won’t forget your evil laughing bastard, Mako Iwamatsu, you’ll be missed)

Goodbye Samurai Jack, you will be missed very much, thank you so much for all the years you’ve entertained us, and even though you will never return you shall remain in our hearts forever.

Samurai Jack
2001 - 2017

A small Isak and Even fic to bring in the New Year. Includes: Kissing at midnight. Based on this ask.  

“So what do you thinks in store for next year?” Isak asks mischievously, angling his chin up at Even.

Even looks down at him, smile curving around his lips, his eyes warm; but after a few seconds of silent staring, Even looks away pensively.

Isak follows his gaze to see a drunken Vilde being supported by a sober, but amused Sana as Vilde tries to dance with her; if you could call leaning on Sana and swaying, dancing. An equally drunk Eva and Chris by their side, with Noora cheering them on happily from her perch on Eskild’s shoulders. Linn stands next to them, watching on with a neutral expression before her eyes suddenly swivel towards Isak and Even, as if feeling their gaze.

Linn nods at them and gives them a small smile, but Isak thinks she’s speaking directly to Even because Even’s breath catches against his ear as if understanding the unspoken meaning of the gesture. Isak isn’t surprised if he did. The bond that Even and Linn had come to share was something that Isak never expected to happen, but is grateful for nonetheless. They understand each other in a way that Isak isn’t able to, no matter how much he tries.

Tightening his arms around Isak, Even returns the nod and Linn turns away to focus her attention back on the drunken mess in front of her.  

Pressing back into Even’s arms, Isak lifts a hand to Even’s face, swiping his thumb over his cold cheek and gaining his attention once again.

Even’s lips part as he his eyes roam over Isak’s face, lifting a hand to hold Isak’s in place and exhaling heavily as he turns his face slightly to leave a kiss on the palm of Isak’s hand under his.

Emotions well up inside Isak’s chest at that, squeezing his heart, his throat, begging to come out in three little words.

What does come out though is, “You never answered my question.”

Even pouts in response, causing Isak’s eyes to fly down to rest on his lips, which were just a bit chapped. Isak absentmindedly thinks about getting Even some lip balm or something before he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Even’s softly.

A year ago if anyone would have told Isak that he’d be kissing his boyfriend in public, surrounded by friends and strangers, he would never have believed it. But this Isak, he’s trying to be who he is, who he wants to be, not what he thinks he should be. He knows it’ll take time, he knows he’s not completely comfortable acting like a couple in front of people, showing that yes, he likes boys; this one boy. Being with Even though, it makes Isak feel like he can get through anything.

Even parts his lips under Isak’s, kissing back and smiling into the kiss as he lifts his free hand to cover Isak’s cheek.

It was only a short press of lips, warmth on warmth, but it never failed to make Isak’s heart skip in his chest. As if Even could hear it, he smiled, eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners. The smile that made Isak want to reach out and touch every time it happened. In an effort to stop himself from embarrassingly giving away just how truly gone for Even he was, he refrained, although Isak didn’t think his planned worked… most of the time.

Pulling back but keeping his hands in place, Even’s expression became guarded as he looked at Isak. “I don’t – I don’t know, what’s going to happen next year. Graduating would be good,” he said as he flitted his eyes away quickly towards the crowd of people who were starting the countdown to bring in the New Year.




“Minute by minute,” Even declares as he turns back to face Isak, raising his voice so that Isak could hear him over the noise.




Isak swallows the lump in his throat at Even throwing his words back at him, nodding in acceptance as he roughly asks, “What are we going do in this minute?”




Even smiles and says, “In this minute, we’re going to kiss.”


Isak’s eyes fall shut as Even inches his way closer, hand warm on his cheek, breathe fanning over his face.


Isak’s hand already on Even’s face, still trapped under his hand, flexes as he tightens his hold. Just as Even is about to close the distance between their lips, he suddenly stops and Isak’s lips part as he looks up and down from Even’s eyes to his lips and back again, unexpectedly shy from Even’s intense gaze. Even looks like he wants to say something but instead he finally connects their lips, pouring everything he didn’t say into it.

Isak kisses back just as gently, but not any less passionately as he tries to convey all his feelings for Even, all his love, into this one kiss.

As they pulled away to breathe, it wasn’t for long. Small pecks in between smiles and laughs, and bright eyes filled with everything. Isak’s cheeks hurt from smiling, dimples coming out as he watches Even light up, unwilling to let him go, eyes crinkling in that smile he loved.

“I’ve never been kissed on New Year’s,” Isak admits breathlessly.

Even fakes a shocked look as he replies just as breathlessly, “Well. We’ve fixed that now haven’t we?”

Cheekily, Isak disagrees. “I think you might have to kiss me one more time… and then it’ll be officially fixed.” he finishes casually.

Playing along, Even nods and says, “I think so too.”

As Isak and Even kiss again, their friends celebrating and patting their backs in the background, Isak welcomes in the New Year by bidding farewell to his old scared self and saying hello to the real Isak.

The Isak that is happy, in this universe.


(aka part two for my gruvia as tumblr mutuals who don’t realize they know each other irl au)

[part 1]

first of all, happy birthday to my dearest mother kate @muffindragon227 , thank you so much for telling me in advance so i was actually able to throw something together! (it ended up being like 4.2k words so ha hahaaha sorry) and here is the part 2 to my gruvia tumblr au. enjoy.

Juvia considered herself a reasonable girl - she had the occasional nervous breakdown, would opportunely indulge herself in sinful sweets, and perhaps even once in awhile assume to guiltily watch hallmark tv shows about shameless romance in the 19th century.

But this - this was too far. She was at her wit’s end.

Her fingers obediently traced the word carved into the tree - Jay, just three letters, that held the utmost importance to her. It was silly. Or was it?

Yes, of course it was! Obsessing over three little letters in a tree was stupid and immature.

She pulled her hand away testily and touched the pads of her fingers against one another, hoping some of the artistic value G had left behind while carving the tree would wear off. The letters haunted her, a faded memory of something she could never have.

She had a crush on G. A pretty massive one, at that. But crushes fade. She’d never seen G, all she knew about him were pointless little facts…like how much creamer he liked in his coffee, and how much he despised shallow people, and how he loved afternoon photoshoots when the sun hit the leaves and created the most beautiful atmosphere a camera could capture…

Keep reading

Powa (from Fullkawa’s blog)

I’m Fullkawa.

These days, somehow many things have happened.
Of course including things about myself.

I think people who take a look at this already know,
but Shiina Mota-kun has set out on his journey.
Truth is, I assumed it’d be better if I didn’t say anything, but because Powa-chan’s manager has told us “I hope you can talk a lot about him and stay connected to him”,
“Indeed”, so I thought, and tried writing this carefully.

Today, I had the chance to attend his farewell party,
it was great.
That guy, he looked as if he were just sleeping.

I met Mota-kun when he was only 14 years old.
“His songs don’t match his age!”, Kous-san and I often jokingly told each other.
Rather than his songs are too good for his age, I have a feeling that saying he’s too young for his songs would be more suitable. It doesn’t really make any difference, though.

More often than not, I thought of him as a person who is in the position of being my brother, or even my son. To me, however, he was also a formidable rival.
His songs were that great. Somehow, the way I put it sounds kind of wrong.

He was a boy who worried over lots of things.
Maybe he doesn’t want to hear that from me,
but despite everything, each and everytime he gave his all to overcome the obstacles, and he did manage to do just that.

Last week, after the announcement of my activity termination was published, he was the first one to contact me via LINE.
Long ago, we made a promise to go have a drink once he turns 20.
He remembered that promise properly.
That was on Monday, the week he passed away.
He said, that he would support me until the very end, and that he, too, would try his best.
The promise to have a drink together couldn’t be accomplished, but I was really happy.

Maybe since he was a boy who lived 4 times faster than normal people,
he reached his ripe old age 4 times faster.

Powa-chan, thank you.
I will perform “Mahou” in both September and December.
So please show up at the venue.

I’m going to leave the talk about Fullkawa Honpo for the next time.

I’m surprised at how people are talking as if I were going to retire entirely from music.
I said I didn’t have any plan for the future,
but it wasn’t that serious (laugh), I told you all that I’m gonna do something when I’m in the mood, didn’t I? (laugh)

I’ll do something when I’m in the mood. That’s the truth.
I’m just taking a break for a while.

I’m telling you, this is not the end!!

anonymous asked:

In honor of spn returning tomorrow, can you rec some fics with Derek or stiles possessed by a demon?

stiles is a demon

  • Hell Is Other People series by tsukinofaerii (E, 16k) Stiles discovers the hazards of growing up a real boy when, at heart, he’s not a real boy at all.

  • This Vicious Little World series by Salomonderiel (74,658) Stiles has managed to avoid Hell and its natives for near 16 years. He’s almost managed to fool himself he’s human. And best friend who smells of wet dog or not, he thinks he’d got a pretty good deal with this second chance at a life, and is planning to stick with it. But, unknown to Stiles, the new king of Hell has other ideas…

  • Signed, Sealed, Delivered by thevoiceofwrath (E, 18k, WIP) Derek’s soul isn’t worth anything. Can’t be, right? Not after everything. It’s an easy decision for him, then, to offer it up in exchange for his sister’s life. If only the demon he makes the deal with weren’t so intent on hanging around until Derek’s contract is up…
  • Three Can Keep A Secret by ladyblahblah (5245) Derek discovers that Stiles has been living with a demon inside of him for most of his life. What starts as a confrontation turns into something else altogether.

  • The Pretty Things (are going to Hell) by FaeryQueen07 (E, 5k) 
    “You have something of mine,” Stiles says, and he reaches for his hood, pushing it back to reveal the rest of his face. Lips curled up in a smile promising pain and eyes like death, he says, “And now I’m going to take it back.” 
  • It’s Hard To Tell When All Your Loves Are In Vain by demonicweirdo (T, 12k) ”Even when I barely knew you, when I barely liked you, I would save your life because I thought it was worth saving. So stow the self-loathing crap and take it as a compliment.” Derek frowned. “Take you going to Hell for me as a compliment?”
  • Headfirst For Halos by swingsetindecember (T, 3k) Derek will do anything to save his sister. Selling his soul is just the beginning.

stiles is possessed by a demon

  • The Devil’s In The Details by grimm (E, 4k) He’s losing pieces of time. There’s blood on his sheets and in his mouth. There are bruises on his skin and voices in his head and Stiles is pretty sure he’s going crazy.
  • Monsters by nightanddaze (E, 10k) Two (three) souls walking in the woods, looking for and finding monsters.

Keep reading

Rain and a Smile

(it finally started raining again here in California and that gave me the idea for this. Forgive any weird typing, it’s hard to type through my own tears :’[ also I’ll just go ahead and show myself to the corner….)

The Shooting Star is falling from the sky. Her blazing tail is fading as its path is remembered in reverence and gratitude by those who had seen it.

Mable lies in bed, its been a month since the visitors started coming. First was family, her darling triplet babies Acacia, Willow and Hank and their clan. Great grandchildren run through the mystery shack, some are laughing with gamgam Mable, some who are old enough to understand are crying. Mable can see the tears hidden behind the smiles and hugs each one gently until there are no more tears to give.
Next was friends, everyone that could make it came. Humans, spirits and supernatural alike came to say their farewells. Jokes were traded, stories were told, tears were spilled and promises of drinks in the next life were made.
Finally were the people who simply wanted to say their thanks. Political leaders who had fought alongside her for supernatural rights, Supernatural’s who gained so much thanks to her work, all the families she had helped and all the people she inspired came to give tribute and say goodbye.

For the month of farewells the small figure of a 12 year old boy could be seen sitting in a corner wearing a worn out vest and shorts with a faded baseball cap covering his eyes as he stared blankly at the floor. He had been the one to call them all and let them know her time was ending. When everyone would leave for the day he would sit next to the old woman and they would talk. No words were ever exchanged; instead the boy had taken them deep into the mind. Where they ran and played under the sky until there was nothing left to say.

“I could make you stay you know…”

“I know you could bro-bro”

“You wouldn’t need to grow old, people wouldn’t need to say goodbye. You wouldn’t have to…… leave”

“….. You know I’ll never really leave Dipper, you’ll see me again and again and again”

“but you won’t be… YOU

"sure I will, you just might need to remind me a bit”


“…… you know I’ve lived a long enough Dipper. You’ll be fine without me! Don’t tell me the great demon Alcor is gettin all weepy about his sister”

“heh…. Mystery Twins till the end?”

“Mystery Twins Till the end! and beside I feel tired Dipper, but a good kinda tired. Like I’ve played all day during summer and now it’s time to go to sleep, and it’ll be nice to see Henry again”

“yea, tell him I said hi”

“ I will. ‘Night Dipper see ya soon”

“…….It’s a Deal. Good night Mable”

The Shooting Star has fallen.


You couldn’t have asked for better weather during the funeral. It was bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. There was no need for a eulogy, or a service. Everyone who had wanted to say their goodbyes had come before. One by one they laid flowers on her grave. Even great demon Alcor came and rained petals from the sky and played violin in honor of her passing. As the day turned to evening, all the mourners had turned to their journey home to spread the new of her passing. The triplets were the last to leave, silently hugging Dipper before going to be with their family. As the last car drove away and the sound of crunching gravel faded he could feel the restrain on his emotions breaking as the hot tears spilled down his face. He was alone. His Twin Star, The great Mizar was gone. Mable was really gone. The heavens opened and wept with him.

Dipper didn’t know how long he had been crying, the rain had kept him cold company the entire time. Some days were a violent storm when he thought of everything he could have done or said but didn’t. Other days were a light drizzle with the sun almost peaking through the clouds as memories of her smile and hugs enveloped him. The rain didn’t stop until one day a little girl had found her way to the grave.

“Mister! Mister! Are you the one making the sky cry?”

Alcor whipped around, there had been visitors to her grave before but none had dared to try talking to him. And yet here stood a little girl with long dark hair tied with a pink bow clutching a stuffed animal

“Mister! Everyone says you’re the one making the sky cry. Mommy and Daddys car got stuck in the mud and we haven’t been able to get it out, I wanna go home”

He could do nothing thing but stare… Her soul it was so familiar… was she really? Had it really been that long?

“Mister are you crying too?”

“yes I’ve lost something important, and it hurts” Why was he telling her this?

“hmmm We’ll I’m not good at finding things but I can give you a hug! Mommy gives me a hug and a big smile whenever I get hurt and it always makes me feel better!”

“a hug and a smile huh…. ” He looked up at the sky and could see the clouds already begin to break
“tell ya what kid, it’s a deal”

The little girl smiled and gave him a big hug as the sun began to show.

“Alright mister I gotta go before my mom gets mad! Make sure you keep smiling so the clouds don’t come back!”

“haha Sure thing kiddo!”

Dipper turned and stretched as the girl ran back to her parents, the sun was out in full blaze, just the sort of day she liked. Dipper smiled wide it still hurt, but it wasn’t the end. He had a deal to keep, and he intended on doing just that.

The End

septimore  asked:

McCoy hands Spock a PADD stylus and is so distracted that he forgets about vulcan kissing. Spock however thinks it's a move and plants a very human kiss in him so when they get together their favorite argument is about who made the first move

“Doctor, I assure you, I was merely reacting to the fact you kissed me first,” Spock said as he sat down with his favorite vulcanian fruit salad. Leonard was following close behind with a vegan meal of his own, he had decided to try some out after he started dating the First Officer. Jim looked up from his lunch at his two officers, they were having their favorite argument, who kissed who first.

“Now listen here darlin, you kissed me first,“ replied Doctor McCoy sitting down in his seat, “I handed you a stylus and you gave me a kiss on the cheek then proceeded to walk away”

“Doctor, as I many times before, you brushed my fingers giving me a kiss in the Vulcan sense of the action,” Spock took a bite of his food before continuing, “And as I have been studying traditional earth greetings and farewells, I assumed you were saying goodbye, so I also stated my farewell”

“Some farewell, you left me in the middle of that hallway right confused about what’d just occurred”

Jim remembered the moment quite clearly, he hadn’t seen the supposed Vulcan kiss, but he did catch the tail end of the cheek peck Bones had received. The doctor had gone bright pink in the face and ears, stiffened up, and had been staring like a deer in headlights as the First Officer walked towards the labs with green tinted ears of his own. When Jim had snapped Bones out of his stupor, the doctor reverted back into his old southern drawl saying, “Well god blessed a good day to me after all” and went on his way. The captain smiled at the memory, he had never seen the doctor so quiet and stunned in his life. But the two kept up their argument.

“I assure you that was not my intent, I must admit that I too felt confusion when kissed me first that day…”

“That confusion you felt was your pointed eared brain tellin’ you to give me kiss on the cheek after an accidental finger touch,” Bones shot back, interrupting Spock, though with much playfulness in his voice. Spock raised his eyebrow.

“Given that the touch did not occur until after I had secured the stylus in my grasp, without touching your hand nor fingers,” Spock began, “it can be inferred that you then brushed your fingers against mine, causing the first kiss between us”

“Oh yeah, Spock,” Bones started as Spock took another bite of his fruit salad, “if I did it on purpose, then why did I react in a confused manner?” The question was mostly rhetorical, but Spock swallowed his food and replied anyway, seemingly unaware of the syrup on the corner of his mouth.

“Well doctor, the reasonable conclusion would be that you kissed me, believing that I would not react the way I…” Spock paused as Bones used his thumb to wipe away the syrup, swiping it across the Vulcan’s lip with a low ‘let me get that for ya darlin’’. Spock just stared at the doctor, his ears getting greener by the minute. There was silence for a good two minutes before,

“…Obscene, Doctor”

And as Bones got redder as he realised what he just did, Jim could feel that the ‘who kissed who first’ argument, was gonna be his second favorite Spock and McCoy argument.

The Woman Who Married the Man in the Moon” by Peter S. Beagle – a short story about Schmendrick before The Last Unicorn, collected in Sleight of Hand.

As the magician drew breath to respond, she added, “I am sorry if my story displeases you. I told it for a reason.”

“Of course you did. To make the point that whether or not her lover was actually the Man in the Moon, the real magic was in her belief — it was belief that kept her blissful and shimmering, and what else matters, after all? Understood, but my fairy tale is a little different, and I have already known too many who flourished on the belief of others. Thank you once more for the meal and the delightful children. And so good night and farewell, mistress.”

He turned, tugging the old cloak closer around himself. Mourra could not see her mother’s face clearly, but she heard her begin to speak — then stop herself — then finally say “You are a fool.”

Over his shoulder, the magician answered her, “Oh, I know that.”

Sairey said, “I did not tell you that tale in praise of blind belief. I meant you to understand that it was her faith in herself — not in him, not for a moment — that made whatever magic there was. I’ve no least idea whether or not she ever credited a word that man told her, but what I am sure of is that she knew — not believed, she knew, always — that she was a woman for whom the Man in the Moon would certainly come down to Earth.” Her voice sounded strangely breathless to Mourra’s ears, as though she had been running. She said, “Magic is not what you think it is, magician.”

Okay but I’m serious about the equestrian AU. Think about it.
Hanzo grew up riding and is a crack shot with his bow even on horseback. His family owns a huge piece of land and a large stable where he takes care of the horses and sometimes gives lessons.
McCree looks like a cowboy but he’s never been able to afford a horse or riding lessons or nothin’. Honestly horses are way taller and scarier in person than he expected.
Genji (arguably the best jockey around) thinks this scruffy southerner should definitely take lessons from his brother. Definitely no ulterior motives. He’s just gonna watch from over here (winks at Hanzo).
Symmetra visits every Saturday at eleven AM on the dot. She greets every horse by name and pets them on the snout. Even Hanzo’s ornery stallion gives her friendly head-nuzzles. She takes her favorite silver-maned mare for a trot along the forest path and stops beneath a large oak tree to meditate in silence. Then she takes the mare back, brushes and waters her, and says her farewells to all the horses again. She never speaks much to the people around. Horses are better than people.
Jack used to live next to a horse farm. He’d escape there whenever things got too bad at home. He remembers being nine years old and looking up at a huge, roan gelding. The gentle animal huffed and nibbled at him playfully. He’d always felt most at home in a stable since then. A retired veteran now, he has time again to work with the animals he loved so much in his youth. He brings his grumpy city-slicker of a husband along every now and then too.
Angela is a veterinarian. Large animals are her specialty. She can often be found at the stables treating a cough or a cracked hoof or making sure a pregnant mare is doing well. If she comes around more often now that Ms. Amari has been hired to do security, well, that’s probably a coincident.
A day is never complete unless Lena has raced someone. If Genji is the most skilled rider, she’s certainly the fastest. She’s faster than Lúcio, but he’s just here to have a good time. She’s faster than Hana, who’s never happy to lose. The only person who’s ever beaten Lena in a race is Amélie…but that’s because Lena got clothes-lined by a tree. She can’t help it. Hot girls are distracting!