the west would really rather stay in friday nights and watch tv


Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU.

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Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal, @kat2609, @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon  and whoever else asks me.

Thanks always to the cool-as-fuck @lenfaz, for her tireless efforts in keeping me motivated.


He could feel it, the regret, welling up in his chest, his vision blurring as he scrolled through page after page of poorly punctuated text.

14,202 responses.

14,202 people who were up for being Emma Swan’s friend, and for some reason Killian Jones had appointed himself their gatekeeper.

14,202 reasons to wish he’d never even heard the name Emma Swan.

The task itself was burdensome enough, a time suck if ever there was one. But it was the sexually aggressive come ons he encountered that really propelled it towards torture. There was no other way of saying it: Men were pigs.

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            Grantaire doesn’t go home for the holidays. He watches, bottle dangling from his fingers, as cars come and go all morning and all day, winces when moms squeal over their sons’ growth spurts, and tries not to be too relieved when his roommate decides to go back to New York last minute. It’s not that he doesn’t like Montparnasse, he just hates how he has this terrible habit of having really loud sex with multiple people while Grantaire is still in the room. It happens more than you’d think, which is to say, several times per week.

            So after helping Montparnasse pack for several hours (‘listen, you don’t need five hair dryers –’ ‘don’t tell me what I do and do not need, Grantaire, you don’t understand’) and waving him goodbye as he jets off in his stupidly decadent BMW, he finally gets the room to himself.

            And promptly wishes he could actually take advantage of it. Unfortunately, Grantaire’s bed has seen more beer stains than visitors in the last two years. Not that he hasn’t been trying diligently to change that. It just seems that any time he finds someone willing to fall into bed with him, Grantaire can’t bring himself to do it.

            Life was so much easier before he met Enjolras.

{In which Courfeyrac invites all the les amis over for thanksgiving and Enjolras and Grantaire get snowed in and must share a blanket or freeze}

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