steps into the sea

CS + Hidden Desires / Unwrapped

CS + Hidden Desire / Unwrapped

General audience / ~700 word count

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It boggled Emma’s mind. It was the third time in as many weeks that she’d found the wrappers hidden around the house. Buried at the bottom of the trash can, jammed hastily in the couch cushions, littering the work bench in the shed. Why was Henry hiding Pop Tart wrappers?

Perhaps he and Killian had another run-in about the questionable breakfast food? She hated to think that it had gotten so bad Henry felt he had to hide them from his step-father. Emma knew that Killian meant well, but sometimes the sea Captain took over and orders were issued before he had a chance to think.

She’d have to have a talk with them.

“Henry?” Emma called out as she knocked on her son’s door. “Can I come in, kid?”

“Sure, mom,” Henry responded, and Emma found him packing up his stuff to get ready to go meet Violet. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about these,” she said as she tossed a handful of Pop Tarts wrappers onto his bed. “Henry, I know Hook can be a bit regimented about things, but you don’t have to hide these. I’ll talk to Killian, but I need you to stop hiding these wrappers all over the house.”

Henry looked up at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? Those aren’t mine.”

“They aren’t?”

“No. I only like the strawberry ones, those are brown sugar and cinnamon.”

“Well if they aren’t yours then whose–”

“Everything alright in here, love,” came the dulcet tones of her pirate from the doorway.

Emma turned to answer him and caught his brief wide-eyed expression of panic as he assessed the wrappers on Henry’s bed. She took in the small crumbs that dusted his beard, and suddenly started to have a clearer picture of what had been going on.

Just to be sure, Emma lifted herself up to meet his mouth with hers and sure enough…brown sugar and cinnamon flavored his lips.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at her blushing husband who knew full well he’d been caught.

His pink tinted ears must have tipped off Henry, as he cried out from the bed, “Are you kidding me?! After all the crap you’ve given me about them not being a ‘suitable source of sustenance’, and you’ve been eating them in secret this whole time?!”

Emma stifled a laugh at her son’s indignation and her pirate’s cowed demeanor, and smiled as step-father apologized to step-son before Henry left to go and meet Violet. Emma followed Killian out of their son’s room after he collected the wrappers and made her way to the kitchen, watching him deposit the evidence of his treachery in the trash can.

“And here I thought I knew all your hidden desires,” Emma teased, and Killian just smirked at her over his shoulder.

“A man has to keep a few secrets, Swan,” he mused as he made his way across the kitchen towards her. “But I’d be happy to share a few more of those hidden desires with you if you’d like,” and he began to lay kisses along the expanse of her throat.

“Let me guess,” she whispered, becoming a tad breathless at his attentions. “You have a stockpile of jello cups on The Roger,” and she felt a sharp pain at her side where he pinched her for her cheek as he continued his trail of open mouthed kisses down her neck.

“No? Well, then…maybe a stash of milk duds and microwave popcorn in your underwear drawer?” she continued to tease.

“Swan…” Killian murmured exasperatingly against her lips in an attempt to quiet her mocking.

“Mmmm. You know, as much as I like the brown sugar and cinnamon, you really should try the–”

But she never got a chance to finish as Killian carted her back up the steps over his shoulder, hell bent on revealing a few hidden desires that had nothing to do with breakfast pastries.


by @hollyethecurious 

Let’s talk about an Ariel who walks away—limping, mouthing inaudible sailors’ curses, a sea-brine knife in her belt.

Ariel traded her voice for a chance to walk on land. That was the deal: every time she steps, it will feel like being stabbed by knives. She must win the hand of her one true love, or she will die at his wedding day, turn to sea foam, forgotten. The helpful steward tells her to dance for the prince, even though her feet scream each time she steps. Love is pain, the sea witch promised. Devotion calls for blood.

But how about this? When the prince marries another, nothing happens. When Ariel stands over the prince and his fiance the night before their wedding, her sisters’ hard-won knife in hand, she doesn’t decide his happiness is more important than her life. She decides that his happiness is irrelevant. Her curse does not turn on the whims of this boy’s heart. 

She does not throw away the knife and throw herself into the sea. She does not bury it in the prince and break her curse—it would not have broken. She leaves them sleeping in what will be their marriage bed and limps into a quiet night, her knife clean in her belt, her heart caught in her throat. Her feet scream, but they ache, too, for the places she has yet to see. 

Ariel will not be sea foam or a queen. There is life beyond love. There is love in just living. Her true love will not be married on the morn—the prince will be married then, in glorious splendor, but he had never been why she was here.

Ariel traded her voice for legs to stand on, a chance at another life. When she poked her head above the waves, it wasn’t the handsome biped that she fell for. It was the way the hills rolled, golden in the sun. It was the clouds chasing each other across blue sky, like sea foam you could never reach.

(She does reach it, one day, bouncing around in the back of a blacksmith’s cart, signing jokes to him in between helping to tune his guitar. They crest up a high mountain pass and into the belly of a cloud. Her breath whistles out, swirls water droplets, and she reaches out a hand to touch the sky. Her feet will scream all her life, but after that morning they ache just a little bit less). 

I want an Ariel who is in love with a world, not a prince. I don’t want her to be a moral for little girls about what love is supposed to hurt like, about how it is supposed to kill you. Ariel will be one more wandering soul, forgotten. Her voice will live in everything she does. She uses her sisters’ knife to turn a reed into a pipe. She cannot speak, but she still has lungs. 

Love is pain, says the old man, when Ariel smiles too wide at sunrises. It’s pain, says the innkeeper, with pity, as Ariel hobbles to a seat, pipe in hand. At least you are beautiful, soothes the country healer who looks over her undamaged feet. The helpful steward had thought she was shy. Dance for the prince even though your feet feel stuck with a hundred knives.

Her feet feel like knives but she goes out dancing in the grass at midnight anyway. She’s never seen stars before. Moonlight reaches down through the depths, but starlight fractures on the surface. Ariel dances for herself.

She goes down to caves and rocky shores. Sometimes she meets with her sisters there. Mouths filled with water cannot speak above the sea, so she drops into the waves and they sing to her, old songs, and she steals breaths of air between the stanzas. She can drown now. She holds her breath. She opens her eyes to the salt and brine. 

Ariel uses canes and takes rides on wagons filled with hay, chickens, tomatoes—never fish. She earns coins and paper scraps of money with a conch shell her youngest sister swam up from the depths for her, with her reed pipe, with a lyre from her eldest sister which sounds eerie and high out of the water. The shadow plays she makes on the walls of taverns waver and wriggle like on the sea caves of her childhood, but not because of water’s lap and current. It is the firelight that flickers over her hands. 

When she has limped and hitched rides so far that no one knows the name of her prince’s kingdom, she meets a travelling blacksmith on the road with an extra seat in his cart and an ear for music. He never asks her to dance for him and she never does. She drops messages in bottles to her sisters, at every river and coastline they come to, and sometimes she finds bottles washed up the shore just for her. 

They travel on. When she breathes, these days, her lungs fill with air.

Some nights she wakes, gasping, coughing up black water that never comes. There is something lying heavy on her chest and there always will be.

Somewhere in the ocean, a sea witch thinks she has won. When Ariel walks, she hobbles. Her voice was the sunken treasure of the king’s loveliest daughter, and so when they tell Ariel’s story they say she has been robbed. They say she has been stolen. 

She has many instruments because she has many voices—all of them, hers; made by her hands, or gifted from her sisters’ dripping ones. Ariel will sing until the day she dies with every instrument but her vocal cords. 

She cannot win it back, the high sweet voice of a merchild who had never blistered her shoulders red with sun, who had never made a barroom rise to its feet to sing along to her strumming fingers. She cannot ever again sing like a girl who has not held a dagger over two sleeping lovers and then decided to spare them. She decided not to wither. She decided to walk on knives for the rest of her life. She cannot win it back, but even if she could, she knows she would not sound the same. 

They call her story a tragedy and she rests her aching feet beside the warming hearth. With every new ridge climbed, new river forded, new night sky met, her feet ache a little less. They call her a tragedy, but the blacksmith’s donkey is warm and contrary on cold mornings. The blacksmith’s shoulder is warm under her cheek.

Her feet will always hurt. She has cut out so many parts of her self, traded them up, won twisted promises back and then twisted them herself. She lives with so many curses under her skin, but she lives. They call her story a moral, and maybe it is.

When she breathes, her lungs fill. When she walks, the earth holds her up. There is sun and there is light and she can catch it in her hands. This is love. 

hiiii, here are a bunch of fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of february. I recommend that you read these great fics in march, if you haven’t already. there are SO many good and unique AUs this round, so please check them out!!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)


1. Saved Tonight (30k)**

Harry is the world’s most persistent seduction-baker, a questionable dog-sitter, and Louis’s biggest fan. Louis hasn’t written in years, is trying to pass loneliness off as cynicism, and absolutely hates his fans. It’s probably destiny.

2. Too Real to Fake It (82k)*

With seven years of blissful marriage behind them and four wonderfully unique kids to brag about, Harry and Louis seem to finally have life all figured out and under control. How much more real could it get?

Very real it turns out, when Harry reluctantly leaves home for a 5 day business trip leaving Louis to manage their rambunctious, hyperactive household. Do they really have it all under control or are they just faking it?

Featuring all the usual suspects, inside jokes, embarrassing moments and of course, Harry and Louis’ wild antics + the addition of their four equally wild and outrageous kids.

3. When You Look Like That (16k)*

“You… you still have the dress form I got you for your eighteenth birthday? You’ve kept it for ten years, Harry?” Louis’ eyes flick around Harry’s studio. It’s big and modern, with floor to ceiling windows that help flood the room in bright sunlight, just like the lobby. However, he can’t stop staring at the faded, but present, heart surrounding the “H + L” written delicately in Louis’ handwriting in the center of the mannequin.

Louis is a songwriter who is nominated for a Grammy and he needs a suit. Fast. He seeks out help from a very popular, very mysterious designer who just so happens to be his ex-boyfriend.

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Resist Everything Except Temptation

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 10/10

Words: 100,118

Summary:

Louis is the commodore’s son who is forced to become a part of Harry’s crew when he is captured.

A gust of salty air pushed over the deck as the information resonated in the night sky. The only audible sound was the continuous wallop of waves wrecking against the ship. Louis kept his breathing even and his eyes locked with Malik’s, refusing to be the first to break.

“Now, that is interesting.” 

Malik’s head whipped towards the quarterdeck, his eyes wide as they settled by the wheel of the ship. Louis gawked as the entire crew bowed their head in respect. Some mechanically took a few steps back. Malik straightened his spine and clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes downcast. Instinctively, Louis followed suit and trained his eyes on the deck beneath his knees.

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible.

There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

good luck | reggie mantle (riverdale)

Originally posted by void-obriens

a/n: i want more reggie asap like riverdale give us more reggie please i need it in my life. i also had a lot of fun playing around with like kind good protective reggie instead of jerk jock reggie!! asshole to the world but never to his girl!💙💛🏈1️⃣4️⃣

prompt: 55- “don’t you dare lay a finger on her” & 86- “you know it’s okay to cry”

you walk out of the gym still clad in your cheerleading uniform, the hall filling with the loud commotion of kids as they pour out from their classes.

you see the jocks exit their locker room rowdy from practice you assume, as you make your way toward your locker one of the jocks bumps into you sending you toward the ground

“watch it idiot” i spit annoyed picking myself up of the floor “me watch it? how about you watch your mouth vixen” he steps closer to me trying to intimidate me. i place my hand on his chest pushing the jock out of my face

“you think your tough because your a bulldog?” i giggle and roll my eyes at the teen “get out of my face Chuck”

i try and move past as a crowd gathers but he’s hands dart to my arm and he pulls me back pushing me up against the lockers “no can do princess” he snarls

“seriously chuck stop being a meat head and let me go” he steps back and i glance at him before walking forward only to have chuck grab a handful of my ass as i pass

i freeze turning on my heel “what the hell chuck!” i yell feeling sick to my stomach “oh c'mon (y/n), i had to see if the rumours were true” he bites his lip and runs his hands over his head taking a good look at my body

i suddenly feel self conscious in my uniform and lookas a crowds gather “CLAYTON!” a sudden voice yells

i search for the voice as none other than reggie mantle steps through the sea of jocks and shoves his friend into the lockers behind him just like the boy had done with me.

“ah chill mantle im just having fun with the hottest little river vixen, right (y/n)” the jocks get giddy pushing on each other like ‘bros’

“it’s fine reg forget it” i mutter to the raven haired boy turning to leave the scene “yeah reg it’s fine” chuck tease slipping past the boy and walking briskly toward me to get one last touch of my ass

i squeal disgusted in the boys actions, and like lightning reggie is next to me in a flash shoving the dim witted boy up against the lockers holding him up by his sweat shirt

“don’t you dare lay a finger on her” he warns getting into his face “you hear me” he shouts and the boy nods vigorously “okay okay reg chill” he drops the boy down and I turn walking away as fast as my legs could take me.

“did i hear that chuck & reggie were fighting over you today!” ronnie gushes as we prepare for the big game.

i roll my eyes applying another coat of mascara to my lashes “jeez v it wasn’t like that at all” i exhale placing down the wand and turning to face my two best friends “chuck was being a handsy dick and reggie stuck up for me thats all”

they share a puzzled glance “wait what do you mean handsy?” betty pushes worry washing over her face “he just grabbed my ass a few times and yeah I don’t want to talk about it can we just drop it?”

“(y/n) that’s not nothing you-” and by some grace of god cheryl bounds into the locker room “let’s go sluts show time”

“god i hate the kids at this school” i mummer before following the raven and blonde headed girls out and onto the field.

we stand along the track as the bulldogs rip through their banner jogging onto the school field as the bleacher erupt in cheers. we do a few cheers and flips before it was the opposing teams turn to enter

i make my way over to the drinks table and catch chuck and his mates staring me down like a piece of meat making gestures that would only make a girl feel sick to her stomach

and like clockwork tears dribble down your fast as fast as they appear “(y/n?)” i cuz sand turn away from the boy quickly wiping my eyes before turning back to the jock “reg hey” i smile

“your crying” he states and i shake my head denying it which only causes me to cry even more “im sorry it’s stupid i shouldn’t be crying im fine” i choke and he shakes his head stepping closer to me

“hey hey” he places his hands on my shoulders in attempts to comfort me “you know it’s okay to cry?” he questions dabbing a few of my fallen tears with his thumb

“do you?” i tease earning a laugh from him which cause me to giggle to myself “um yes for a fact i do, your looking at a dude who cried during the fault in our stars”

my eyes widen “no way” he shrugs his shoulders “guilty, but if you tell anyone im afraid I’ll have to kill ya” he said as a matter of fact. i hold my hand up “scouts honour”

i wipe the remaining tears off my face and take a few steady breathes trying to block out chuck and he’s idiotic friends

“forget Chuck okay? a guy like that doesn’t deserve a pretty girls tears okay?” i look up into his eyes and smile to myself “thanks reg” he smiles shyly.

“anytime (y/n/n)” he plays with his helmet and i glance down to my shoes to nervous to say anything else

“mantle lets go!” he turns to his coach as he yells for him “coming coach” he yells back glancing at me looking slightly guilty

“im sorry ive gotta go” and i shake my head touches his shoulder softly “it’s fine it’s fine!”

“goodluck” he smiles at me and i blush “thanks reg” he waits glancing at me “what aren’t you going to wish me good luck?” he sasses and giggle.

“you won’t need it but” i throw my arms around the boys next and stand on my tip toes kissing him

“good” kiss “luck” kiss “reg” kiss

i take my hands away from his neck settling them on his chest as his still linger around my waist “woah that was way better” i smile giddy as he re joins our lips “good luck my little vixen”

“MANTLE” he rolls his eyes “im coming coach im coming!” he yells giving me another kiss before rushing off to his team turning around and smiling giddily at your as a blush covers your face.

maybe not all jocks where jerks after all

Okay so, y'all know the splitting of the sea, right?

How everyone just sat there in total miserable complacency until one guy, ONE GUY, stepped forward into the sea, and that’s what split it? That’s what allowed the Jews to move forward, to succeed?


That’s activism. If you don’t stand up, you can’t trust someone else to do. No matter how little support, no matter how complacent others are, you MUST walk into the water. You know with all your heart and soul that the sea WILL split. Everyone else might say it’s impossible, but you know it and you are doing it. That’s how activism must be. That’s how resistance must be. You have to push it, you must reject complacency. Complacent and fear lead to nothing but defeat and death. Stepping up and moving towards your vision even if the vision isn’t there yet, that’s the only way to get your vision to manifest.

Under Cover of Night

A Charm for Safe Travel at Night

By Rainy-Day-Witchcraft

Originally posted by heartsnmagic

Materials: 

  • Small bottle or bag 
  • Basil 
  • Blackberry 
  • Thorns or brambles 
  • Blue Goldstone 
  • Sea salt 

Charm Construction 

✰ Step 1. The night before spell preparation, leave the blue goldstone outside or in a window; somewhere it will be in moonlight. This both charges the stone and fills it with the properties to cover and protect you during the night. 

✰ Step 2. The next day, fill a small bag or bottle with basil, blackberry leaves and/or seeds, any type of thorns or bits of bramble branch (be sure these are small enough to fit in the container), sea salt, and the charged blue goldstone ~ which looks like the night sky (adding to the spell theme!) and possesses protective properties. 

✰ Step 3. Once everything is in the container, seal it however you see fit ~ If it’s a bottle you can drop wax onto the top, glue it shut, etc. If you used a small bag, you can tie it with a string or ribbon with a color that matches your intent (black would work well), or make it a drawstring bag if you’d like the option to open and close. As you seal your charm, recite the following (or write your own chant in it’s place) as you visualize your intent: 

“Under cover of night 

Stars light guiding my plight, 

I am protected Against danger, 

Against negativity or ill-will, 

Against all harm 

As with me, 

I possess this charm 

Protecting me physically and magickally, 

I will arrive safe at my destination" 


Any time you feel it needs re-charging or if you’d like to give the charm another boost of energy to work with, say this (or your own) chant each night you carry the charm while you travel home while holding it tightly in hand. Let me know if you have any questions or comments!

~ Rainy

Te Amo

Originally posted by tiiffanym

Summary: You’re finally graduating high school and Jeff has the future planned out.

Paring: Jeff Atkins x Reader

Request: 100. “Marry me?” with Jeff please love? (WITH NO DEATH PLZ) 💜💜💜

Warnings:  a little fluff, Jeff speaking Spanish because we all deserve that

Word Count:  1292

Links: Prompt List


Graduation.  The day that everyone was praying to approach faster even though life was a big obstacle waiting to kick everyone’s ass.  You stood beside Jeff, holding his hand, and with every other senior that made it to the last day of school in Liberty High.  This was the day Jeff was so proud of because he thought that his one, barely passing grade in History was going to affect his future.  You had faith in him and kept him motivated as well as helped him alongside Clay, the junior who was a genius.

Now, here you both are standing together in your blue cap and gowns, waiting for the ceremony to start.  While Jeff would be going to his assigned placement, you would be taking a seat on stage beside faculty members as you were appointed the 2017 Valedictorian.  You watched with happiness as parents were tearing up watching their babies sit down, ready to be pushed out of the demo version of school and into the version that makes you pay around at least forty or forty-five thousand dollars a year.  

When the ceremony was finally starting, you said goodbye to Jeff, kissing him quickly before you departed and went your ways.  Principal Bolan did his short introduction and then you were up at the podium with your speech.

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3

Okay, another prompt is here! Sorry for not updating sooner, it’s a long fic once again lol! It is sad, angsty (I was listening to a lot of Placebo while writing so yeah) and it turns hot and heavy close to the end but then some fluff concludes it; basically it has it all! :P
Warning for mentions of violence, mild language and sexual themes. I hope you like it darlings and you don’t mind that I combined your awesome prompt ideas! Thank you so much for requesting! And to the rest of you, enjoy! <3

A small summary to tie the three prompts together: After an abrupt break up, Betty is left broken and confused by Jughead’s sudden behavior. Once finding out that he had joined the infamous gang of their small town, the Southside Serpents, Betty sets her mind to sneak into their lair with the only way she knows best. Along with the help of a sudden ally that she comes across on the way, they vow to save Jughead’s soul at all costs. 

(The long dialog in italics is a flashback)


Stars hide your fires;

Let not light see my black and deep desires.

The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be

Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see…

The black velvet of yet another eerie night had spread over the small town of Riverdale, the otherwise picturesque scenery of the alight sky now fearful and pitch black, an ominous sign and a bloodcurdling setting. It coordinated with her jet leather attire, her raven hair and the ghastly temperament that oozed from the cold-blooded sound of heels against dirty and wet asphalt. “Stars hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires…” Every click of stiletto punctuated each word her mind whispered on a loop to the depths of her subconscious, green eyes shining deadly through the darkness, like those of a wolf in hunt for its prey.

If anyone were to run into her on the street, they wouldn’t recognize her; nothing tied her with the image of the nonpareil younger daughter of the Cooper clan. Betty Cooper was dead, locked in the comfort of lavender and chamomile amongst collared sweaters and preppy knitted cardigans. For how long it was yet to be decided but, for tonight, the golden-hearted girl that everyone left behind was put to sleep under the naivety of false ambition and hopeless dreams. Her alter ago was there to deal with the mess the tedious angelic spectrum of her character always seemed to make.

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