they should be looking at each others but it didn't quite work

bigjellymonster  asked:

Drarry Prompt: (8th year) Where Draco ends up holding Harry's hand every time he is scared. This comes as a surprise to both of them.

Harry gaped at Malfoy, their fingers laced together. Malfoy was staring blankly ahead, his mouth twisted in a frown. Harry was too in shock to say anything. Too confused to move. The had been in Potions, somehow paired up together again, working on their Draught of Living death, when out of nowhere, his hand had flown to Harry’s, gripping it tightly. Harry had been mid-sentence, explaining how they could have used this potion during the war. He found himself unable to finish, his thoughts lost completely. He couldn’t focus with the warmth of Malfoy’s hand in his own. Harry could feel the other boy’s heartbeat, pulsing quickly between his fingers. He swallowed.



Draco shook his head roughly, as if trying to expel the memories from his head. His eyes focused around him and he realised he was sitting in the Potions classroom.


He turned his head, a sneer forming on his face.

“What, Potter? Can’t figure out a simple potion? The instructions are right in front of you.”

Potter looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh, as he raised their joined hands. Draco spluttered, a soft blush forming on his face. He ripped his hand away like it was on fire.

“Taking advantage of me? Just wait..” He trailed off. “Nevermind.”

Neither of them spoke the rest of the class,


It wasn’t until a Defense Against the Dark Arts class a couple of weeks later that it happened again.

They had been standing next to each other in the semi-circle, waiting for the Boggart to approach. Everyone already knew how to cast a Patronus, but their new Professor had decided it was worth going over again. Draco glanced over at Potter and caught himself staring. He frowned. Draco didn’t know how they kept getting stuck working together. Some inter-house unity bollocks. McGonnagall had decided that after the war, the students who returned needed to get along better and be more accepting of each other. Some Hufflepuff nonsense, as far as Draco was concerned.

Suddenly, it was his turn to face off with the Boggart. He gasped as it shifted and morphed in front of him, and all of a sudden Potter was standing before him, a cruel smile twisting his face. He reached for Potter’s hand, gripping it tightly.


Harry couldn’t move, save for his eyes darting back and forth between Malfoy and the imposter standing in front of him. He vaguely registered that Malfoy was clutching his hand tightly, but he couldn’t focus on that. Why was he Malfoy’s boggart? And then the Boggart Harry started talking.

“I can’t believe I saved you. I should have let you die in that fire. Should have let you die on that bathroom floor. Should have finished the job then.”

Harry noticed Malfoy start shaking, and then realised his own was shaking. He looked down and saw they were holding hands again. When did that happen? He tried to let go, but Malfoy was holding on so tightly he didn’t stand a chance.

“You weren’t worth saving! You just went right back to join Voldemort, then slinked away with your family, your tails between your legs. What good have you done since?”

Harry shook his head and stepped forward, catching the attention of the Boggart, as it changed again, this time into a Dementor. Harry sighed, shaking his head. Of course it was still the same, he still couldn’t get over that fear. The fear of fear itself, as Lupin had said.


The room was silent as the Boggart moved on, and Harry tugged on his hand that was joined with Malfoy’s.

“You know, I don’t regret saving you, right?” He said quietly.

Malfoy finally met his eyes and shook his head slowly, after some time dropping his hand to his side.


One week later, walking with Potter and Pansy in between classes, Draco was pushed against a wall. He turned around to face his attacker and it was some Hufflepuff Eighth Year. He didn’t know his name, but he knew his face. They shared most of their classes together. He didn’t even have time to reach for his wand before the larger boy had his out and pressed against his chest.

“You know, nobody would mind if I just hexed you right here. You shouldn’t have come back. No one wants you here.”

Draco closed his eyes and flinched, not able to defend himself, preparing for the worst.


Justin Finch-Fletchly? When had he developed such a mean streak? Harry started to protest, stepping closer to Malfoy, his hand reaching for his wand, when suddenly it was full of something. He looked down. Malfoy had grabbed his hand. Again. He couldn’t help the smile that started to form on his face, before he brought his attention back to Justin.

“You and I both know what will happen if you do that, and I don’t think you want to fight me.” He started, magic flaring in his veins. Justin’s eyes went wide, and he stepped back, shaking his head. “Whatever, Harry. He’s not worth it, anyway.”

As Justin walked off, Pansy turned to Malfoy.

“I can’t believe you were just going to take it, You didn’t deserve that! Everyone knows the position you were put in, they basically put your entire trial in the Prophet!” She sighed. “Come on, Draco. Let’s go to class.”

As they turned to walk away, Malfoy tugged Harry along. Either he didn’t realise he was still holding on, or he didn’t want to let go. Harry didn’t mind either way.


Eighth years from every house sat huddled together in their shared common room. It was Halloween and somehow Pansy had convinced Draco to participate in the movie night they were having. Some Gryffindor had brought a muggle movie in and Granger had figured out how to make it work without a… television? Whatever that was.

He somehow found himself on the couch, sitting next to Potter, Weasley on his other side. It didn’t bother him as much as he expected.


Harry could feel the heat of Malfoy’s body, his leg pressing against his, but for some reason he didn’t want to move it away. Seamus had brought in Nightmare on Elm street. Harry had heard his cousin talking about it with his friends once, but he had never been able to see it. Thank Merlin Hermione was clever and fixed it so everyone could watch.

He looked over at Malfoy, He had started growing out his hair more, it hung loosely around his face, kissing his cheeks. Harry blushed. He did not think of Malfoy and kissing in the same sentence. He didn’t.

He couldn’t focus the entire movie. He knew there was something going on with this guy going into dreams, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Malfoy. He was so present next to him, he couldn’t stop thinking of their thighs pressing together, their feet resting against each other. He was so preoccupied, he almost didn’t notice when Malfoy’s hand found his, gripping it tightly. He was too busy watching Malfoy’s face, watching his eyebrows shoot into his hair in shock. He swallowed and turned to face the movie, unconsciously stroking the other boy’s hand with his thumb.


“Um.. Malfoy?” Harry finally got his attention, after standing nearby for a few minutes, unsure what to say.

“Yes, Potter? Here to harass me?” He looked up from his book and raised his eyebrow at Harry.

“What’s going on? I mean, with the hand holding? Hermione is making me talk to you. I told her to mind her own business, but then Ron and Neville ganged up on me, too. Um.”

Malfoy scoffed.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think you should go.”

“I… don’t mind.” Harry struggled to get out. “The hand holding, I mean. I just don’t understand. You hate me.”

Malfoy just stared at him. Harry stood there for a moment before he cleared his throat and nodded sharply.

“Right, then. Right. Okay.”

He turned and rushed out of the library.


Draco caught up to Potter near the Great Hall.

“Wait!” He called out, coming to a stop a few feet behind him. “I… I don’t know. The hand thing. It just happened. And then again.”

Harry turned and frowned.

“So, what?”

“I mean, I don’t hate you.” Draco forced out. “I don’t think I ever did, not really. I think I was just angry. And jealous. And, well. I don’t think Pansy understands. What I had to go through. What you went through.”

Harry tilted his head to one side. Draco thought he looked like a confused puppy, and shoved down the thought that it was slightly adorable.

“But, why?”

Draco sighed.

“I’m not sure. That potions class. It’s like I was back in the war. You were talking about it and then I was there. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And Defense? That boggart-” Draco clenched his jaw and looked away.

Harry stepped closer.

“It’s okay, you know. To be scared?”

Draco frowned.

“I’m not! Why would I be scared, Potter?”


His head snapped up at Harry’s use of his name.

Harry held out his hand and Draco took it, a slow grin forming on his face. Together, they walked into the Great Hall.

(now available on ao3)

anonymous asked:

So what youre saying is pole dancer AU should become a thing? Would everyones super hero name become their stage name?


Tony Stark, Iron Man, in a red and gold thong, working the pole like he was born with one in his hand, working the audience like he was made for this. He makes it rain on everyone with his tips at the end of the night and everyone laughs because he looks genuinely excited to do it each time. (If we’re dealing with a world where Tony was disowned and has no money, the others help him gather up the money after he makes it rain and slip a few of their tips in as well.)

Steve Rogers’s thong in the good old red-white-and-blue because everyone thinks he’s built like he was in the army, so he gets the stage name Captain America. He’s especially gifted with spins and fucking flips. He’s a little awkward off the pole but that bashful smile gets him hella tips. (The bashful smile is an act. Steve Rogers is a slut and loves performing for his lovers.)

Bruce Banner, Bartender, and Tony giggles over this alliteration forever. He used to be a pole dancer until he leapt on top of someone who was trying to get a little too friendly and beat the shit out of him. (He was offered to be bouncer but he declined because he literally Can Not Stop when he’s angry and Thor actually had to pull him off the other guy when he was a stripper.) The strippers call him the Hulk and the regulars warn the new people not to make him angry.

Natasha Romanova, the Black Widow, is a pro with the pole. She’s beautiful and sexy and will absolutely rip off your fingers if you touch her. Like you want to have sex with her even though you know she’ll snap your neck either during or immediately after. Sometimes she and Tony get into competitions. Those are the days they get the most tips and the other strippers just kind of stand aside because how are they supposed to compete with that? (”You don’t,” Natasha says coldly when one of the newbie strippers complains. She’s not going to last long, too green and innocent, and Natasha will not miss her when she quits.)

Thor Odinson is a bouncer because the strip club cannot afford to reinforce the poles to handle his weight when he does tricks. Thor once broke a pole in half. Thor is everyone’s favorite because he brings coffee and donuts on Fridays to have on their breaks.

James “Bucky” Barnes, the Winter Soldier, performs in lots of seedy strip clubs. Steve takes it upon himself to draw Bucky into the Avengers fold. It takes some doing. (Bucky finally agrees to it when Steve shows him a video of Tony and Natasha competing one night. He has no idea who Bucky wants to meet, Tony or Natasha, but he’s grabbing this with both hands and not letting go.)

Sam Wilson, the Falcon, starts as a customer but then Tony and Natasha flirt with him aggressively and suddenly??? He is also pole dancer??? (It helps that they were both very handsy when it came to teach him. Actually everyone at this club is super handsy. And everyone flirts with everyone. Sam has no idea what’s going on but he is all aboard for it.)

For My Help | One

Originally posted by little-wolfy

Prompt: A multi-part fic inspired by For My Help by Hayden Calnin.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing… Heavily mentioning  Suicide and Mental Illness.

A/N: I’m so happy people like this already it’s very encouraging,,, heck. Also, I will be writing another fic alongside this so I can write either one depending on my mood when I feel like writing. If that even made sense. I’m going to be writing one-shots and imagines though so send in requests! Also, let me know if I should add you to the taglist for this fic.

Song Of The Chapter: Couldn’t think of one! Sorry):

It was quite odd of you to return to Riverdale during the winter of sophomore year. Although, people had only begun to notice the returning family in town when the four of you entered Pop’s in your layered clothes and ordered from a very surprised, yet enthusiastic Pop. Your family had flown under the radar for a couple of days to unpack and settle in, only ordering pizza or Chinese by delivery to eat on the living room floor before your furniture had arrived.

Pop had recognized your parents, two doctors who were well known throughout the town for their expertise in their line of work. It was unexpected, your departure from Riverdale just two years ago, but your arrival to the town was deemed just as shocking. Especially when it was in the middle of an investigation for the murder of Jason Blossom.

Your parents had gotten into a messy, dramatic argument with the Blossoms. Something alone the lines of the expenses your parents charged when they had to run certain tests on Mr. Blossom. The red-headed family were livid that they not only charged them full price, but the surgery had even caused a dent in their bank account. That was quite unheard of, since the Blossoms seemed to have money growing on trees. The Blossom family was livid, and their two twins had made your life hell in the eighth grade, they even picked on your younger brother when he walked home with you from school, the innocent fourth grader flinching at their harsh words.

Upon seeing their children and workplace being harassed, your family picked up everything and left without saying a word to anyone, even you and your brother. You’d left Betty Cooper behind, the beautiful blonde next door that could be found at your side at all times, Archie Andrews, the soft ginger who protected you like a little sister, and last, but definitely not least, Jughead Jones. The raven haired boy you bonded with like no other. Even when Betty and Archie were just as loyal and loving, it always felt like you and Jughead against the world. Two out-of-place thirteen year olds who found joy in each other’s company, whether it was sitting across from each other in silence while you both buried your noses in books, or sheepishly held hands at the drive-in, hoping nobody would see. You were a confidant to Jughead, holding him when he was broken down by the issues his family was riddled with, and listening intently when he needed someone to scream at.

You two didn’t know the love between each other at the time, both young and impressionable minds searching for acceptance. There was no label other than an adoring friendship and a trust that would have taken hell to break. But knowing your luck, hell was exactly what you had gone through, being ripped away from childhood friends to be relocated states away.

You lost everything at the drop of a dime, and there were no phone calls or messages after that. Sometimes Betty would reach out to you, but stopped, eventually, knowing there was no possibility of visits over breaks or vacations. She didn't want to dwell on a friend that had ditched her. Archie was quite oblivious, but his feelings were a bit hurt. He had a Y/N shaped hole in his heart for a while, missing the jokes you two would exchange and the pranks you’d play on your other two friends.

Jughead took it the hardest, you were the moon and the stars to him, and when you left… Everything was far too dark.

Apparently, Christmas break was the perfect time for your family to move in and prepare you for the upcoming remainder of the school year. They understood that their actions would be pinned on you once you faced your old friends at Riverdale High, if they even remembered you. The first of the two weeks were filled with mental preparation and avoiding stares when you were in the public eye.

But… Moving to Riverdale at any point in time, specifically to your family, was far from a good idea.  Your parents had soon to be investigated and questioned about Jason’s murder. Of course they were suspects, since they had left and turned their lives around because of the Blossoms. You all had Christmas without a tree and lights, just amazon packages wrapped in newspaper so you all could avoid going out. Surely, these accusations about your parents would descend to you, and you dreaded seeing Cheryl Blossom on the seventh of January when school returned.

You were only able to avoid confrontation for so long until you marched right into Pop’s to order your regular chocolate milkshake with fries, and someone had tapped your shoulder, causing you to jump, gasping dramatically as your hand slapped over your chest. “Oh, Jesus,” You look up and meet those brown eyes that were oh-so curious and genuine all the time, then your gaze fell on a pair of wide blue ones. “You scared me…” Your voice trails off as you looked up at Archie and Betty, who were standing just a couple feet away. Their faces had faltered for a moment, but they gave you sweet smiles.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you back!” Betty opened her arms, stepping forward to pull you into an embrace. Hesitantly, you hugged your former best friends. Were they not mad at you? “Would you like to join us back at the booth? Catch up before school starts up again, and you could meet Veronica! You’d love her.” Betty rambled, causing you to give her a tight lipped grin and hold your hand up to have her pause and take a breath.

“I would love to, it’s great to see you all after such a long time.” You turned your head to see Kevin Keller,  his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm at the sight of you reuniting with Archie and Betty. Across from him, was who you assumed was Veronica, a well put together girl with short black hair and mocha eyes that crinkled when she gave you a kind look. She turned her head to face the beanie clad boy opposite of Kevin, her mouth moving as if she was telling him a secret.

There sat one and only Jughead Jones, who seemed to be stunned by you. You could feel everything around you slow down. It was like a movie, even with Archie and Betty talking in your ear as the three of you made your way to the booth, you could only focus on Jughead’s blue eyes looking into your soul. It was almost intimidating, and if you didn’t feel the need to compensate for lost time with the blonde and ginger teens, you would have turned right around. 

Your slow-motion montage was interrupted when you hear, “Well, if it isn’t Y/N L/N.” From Kevin Keller, “How have you been, doll? This is such a wonderful surprise.” He asked sweetly, watching as Betty slid into the booth next to Kevin, leaving you at the very edge with Archie across from you on the other side, squishing Veronica and Jughead together.

The laptop that sat in front of Jughead was slammed shut, which drew attention from the rest of you around him. You ignored the gesture and responded with a genuine interest in engaging in conversation. “I’ve been alright, it’s good to be back, though. Two years without Pop’s milkshakes seems unheard of around here, and I was having major withdrawals.”

Some of the group chuckled, but that ceased when the raven-haired boy spoke up, “Not withdrawals from the people who were always there for you until you unexpectedly ditched us?”

Your jaw could have hit the floor, your eyebrows furrowed upon hearing Jug’s remark. Veronica cleared her throat, nudging the boy next to her.

“I’m sorry, about him, Y/N.” She said, her voice velvety, “I’m Veronica Lodge. Unlike some people, I knew of your arrival, your parents have been meeting with my mother, something about getting their business back on track. They mentioned having a daughter my age. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You nodded, sharing a mutual expression, “Likewise, Veronica. That’s really sweet of your mother to help my parents, this whole situation was extremely messy-”

She cut you off, “I totally get it, consider me your new best friend, I’ve been- and still am in your shoes.”

“I wouldn’t use that term too loosely with Y/N.” Jughead makes another snide remark, and he soon winces after you hear a thud under the table, “Fuck! Ow, really Betty? In the shin?”

“It wasn’t Y/N’s fault that she moved away, she just got back here, how about you make her feel welcome instead of acting like she’s some sort of villain?” Betty scolded Jughead, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Jughead’s lips curled into a sly smirk, one that always meant trouble,

“Welcome back to Riverdale, Y/N. You came just in time to be wrapped up in Jason Blossom’s murder investigation. I promise you, like all of us, you’ll have a hell of a school year.”

About Ivy’s perfume...

So hey, I’ve seen lots of posts going around about Oswald, Ivy, and the perfume. This is what the fandom consensus seems to be: When Ivy tells Oswald about her perfume and puts it on, she’s trying to use it on him. The expressions she then makes as Oswald continues to talk to her are her being all “what the hell, why isn’t this working on him? Ohhhh okay, he’s gay. That explains it.”

I really don’t think this is the case, based on a few things.

First of all, when Ivy puts on her perfume in front of Oswald, she does not make him smell it up close. Sure, he might have caught an ambient whiff, but he did not come into super-close contact with its source or where it was actually applied. This seems to be the circumstance needed for the perfume to do its work - that’s how we see Gabe and one of his thugs come under its control! Cannoli Guy sniffs Ivy’s neck, and right away, the camera effects tell us the perfume’s working on him. Same thing with Gabe. Ivy makes him smell her wrist where she put on the perfume, and again, we see the same camera effects. He does as Ivy commands (and it should be noted he doesn’t swear loyalty to Oswald because Ivy didn’t tell him to do so, and maybe because of the perfume’s additional truth-telling properties? idk, I’m not quite sure about the latter).

That doesn’t happen with Oswald. Ivy just puts the perfume on and tells him what it does. She says, and I quote, “I have this perfume - one whiff, and a man will do anything I ask, including telling the truth.”

This leads me to my next point: Ivy intends to use her perfume on Gabe, not Oswald. Throughout Gabe and Oswald’s whole interaction, Ivy is off to the side, arms crossed. She keeps eyeing Gabe…

…looks to Oswald when he presents his plan, and then…

…back in Gabe’s direction, looking overall not okay with what’s going on.

Ivy’s a clever girl. Also? She’s seen some shit. She had an abusive home life. After losing both parents, she lived on the streets. She saw the kind of people who did their dealings in the shadows and even worked with some of them. It makes sense that she’d instinctively catch on to Gabe. She steps aside and tells Oswald her suspicions, and when he doesn’t believe her? She happily offers a way to prove it. This is in keeping with Ivy’s character and her connection to Oswald.

The thing is, Ivy isn’t an inherently malicious or controlling person, at least not now. While she’s definitely a survivor and does what she can to take care of herself (and occasionally manipulates people to get what she wants), she’s also very naïve and caring. She could have left Oswald in the river to die, but she didn’t. I think it’s worth noting throughout the series, we keep seeing Ivy tend to things - pidgeons, psychedelic mushrooms, plants in general. Now, she tends to Oswald, too. She spends weeks bringing him back from the brink of death. She doesn’t have to, but she does anyway because, at the moment, that’s the kind of person Ivy is.

But it’s more than that. As she continues to nurse our poor birb back to health (she does mention he still has a fever) and carries out his wishes, Ivy truly believes Oswald is her friend. That’s why she keeps reminding him he’s not alone. That’s why she sends for Gabe like he asks. And that’s why she tells him about and puts on the perfume - so that Oswald knows he has another option, one that Ivy is happy to use for him. Because they’re friends, and that’s what friends do.

And the looks she gives him when he keeps talking, telling her how he’s leaving and basically doesn’t need her? That’s Ivy feeling confused and hurt.

Before anyone gets angry, I’m not saying it wouldn’t be cool for Ivy’s perfume to have no effect on Oswald because he isn’t attracted to women (or specifically Ivy)! That would be an awesome caveat to explore, and I am absolutely all for it! All I’m saying is that that doesn’t appear to be what happens in 3x16.

Makoto Naegi, Chihiro Fujisaki, Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Ryota Mitarai, Shuuichi Saihara, Kiibo, Kokichi Ouma & Rantarou Amami: Reactions to their s/o being flirted with, but they beat up the harasser Headcanons
Um, I hope you don’t mind that I changed it into flirting. I didn’t want to do anything that involves like, the s/o being touched without their consent, bc that makes me very uncomfortable, so I changed it into catcalling and flirting. (Which is ofc still harassing someone, especially if they don’t want it!) I’m sorry!! But I hope you enjoy it and thanks for requesting!! – Mod Chiaki

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otakubarto  asked:

For a fic prompt. Fluffy spa day with Lance and Allura.

Give me the fluff!!!!!!!! I am not all that knowledgeable about spa days or treatments, but I’ll do my best!

“Lance? Are you sure that this is okay to put on our faces?” Allura looks at the goop in the bowl, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Yes Allura, I will have you know this is my own special blend, and yes it is safe to use.” Lance boasts, taking back the bowl and a scooping out some of the contents and spreading it against her cheek.

Much to Allura’s surprise, it was cold to the touch and felt as if her pores were being frozen yet oddly clearing. “Aaah! It’s frigid! What is it doing?!”

Lance chuckles, continuing to apply the home made face mask “don’t worry Allura, it’s mint.”

“And what does that mean exactly?”

“It means that it’s very strong and if it feels like your pores are breathing in cold are for the first time, it’s doing it’s job. Trust me a little will ya?” Lance laughs out, giving Allura a reassuring smile. Allura merely nods and allows Lance to continue.

Allura tries to sit still as Lance applies the rest of the face mask, opting for looking at some of the Altean hair care bottles to help busy her mind busy from the bursts of intense freshness.

Once Lance was done applying his face mask on Allura he sits in front of her and lets Allura pick up her own concoction of a face mask and apply it to his face. He can’t help but giggle at the tickling feeling that follows every swipe of Allura’s face mask.

“Why does it tickle so much! Hahahahaha!”

Allura smiles at Lance’s unabashed laughter “it’s called staberily; it’s much like your ‘mint’, the more it tickles, the more it’s doing it’s job.”


Once both masks were applied and timer was set and running, Lance let’s Allura pick out one of the bottles of hair treatments that she had in her bathroom.
Gently, Allura kneads the Altean hair strengthening liquid into Lance’s hair, scratching gently against his scalp, getting a pleased sound from Lance. She applies the treatment liberally, making sure that his hair was fully coated in it. She wraps a towel around his hair to let the treatment set in and get to work.

“Do you want me to do your hair as well?”

“No, it’s quite alright. I use it much more often than you. But thank you.” Allura declines, but easily shifts the conversation to the nail care kit on the counter. “But I’d love to see you ‘mani pedi skills’ I said that right, right?”

Lance chuckles and gladly starts working on Allura’s nails, buffing and filing them to a smooth finish. Proud of his work, Lance happily picks up his collection of nail polish and lays them out before Allura.

“Pick a color! Any color!”

Allura debates with herself for a few seconds before her eyes seem to settle on a particularly bright pink that Lance was proud that he had accomplished making.

“That one! It looks just like a juniberry’s petals!”

Lance gladly grabs it, and then getting a great idea, he also grabs a darker blue as well, much to Allura’s confusion.

“You trust me, right?”

“Yeeeeeesssss? What exactly am I trusting you with?”

“It’s a surprise, just trust me and don’t look down until I’m done, ok?”

Allura looks into Lance’s eyes and all she can see is his determination to do whatever it was he planned. She gives him a curt nod and closes her eyes, offering up her hand to him.

While she can’t see what’s really going on, she can tell that Whatever he’s doing, it has his full concentration, not even saying a peep as he works on her nails. After the first hand, he takes her other hand and apply the same level of concentration on it like the one before. As soon as he was done with that hand he switches back to the first, and lastly goes back to the other.

Allura patiently waits for Lance to tell her to look, a bit anxious about what it was he was working on.

“Okay, you can look!”

Allura opens her eyes and looks down to see that on her nails, against a dark blue background, small little juniberry flowers decorate her nails. so small yet so precise, she’s amazed at the detail in them. She could almost smell them just by looking at them.

“Allura? Are you ok? Do you not like them?”

Allura looks up from her nails and looks at Lance for the first time since he said she could look.

“Yes, I’m alright.”

“It’s just that….you’re crying.”

Allura attempts to touch her cheeks, but immediately stops midway, scared of messing up the beautiful designs Lance worked so hard on. She lowers her hand, and gives him a watery smile.

“Yes. Yes I’m fine. They’re happy tears. These are beautiful Lance, absolutely extraordinary. I love them.”

Lance gives her a warm smile, one unlike the one he would give her at first. Before, they were boisterous and fake; but this one is full of familial love and kindness and happiness.

Just then the timer goes off for their masks and breaking the touching moment. Both laugh off any tension left as they move over back to the tub to wash off their masks and Lance’s hair treatment.


Both of them are sitting on the couch, Allura still admiring her nails as Lance plays with her hair, weaving braids through her hair. Each enjoying the silence that they sit in.

It was Allura that finally broke the silence, “how did you learn how to do this Lance? It’s spectacular.”

“My sister, Maria, she’s a nail artist. She makes crazy and amazing art on her nails that would put my work to shame. god, you should see some of the stuff she’s created on her nails. She once made the most bejeweled nails I’ve ever seen anyone work such dazzling nails! Anyways, she would teach me how to do some of the more simpler stuff because all of our younger sisters wanted that kind of stuff on their nails too. And I just got really good at it.”

Allura hums in agreement, still looking at her nails in the low lighting.

“I think your sisters would be very proud of you. Thank you Lance.”

Lance smiles and continues to braid Allura’s hair, glad that they could enjoy themselves today.

Ta da! There you go! I hope you like!

Full transcript of Adam Lanza's 2011 radio appearance
  • (music fades out)
  • Host: Hello! We got the collapsible headphones here, but uh... we're back.
  • Co-Host: (inaudible) we got Greg on the phone.
  • Host: Oh! Greg. Okay. How's it going?
  • Lanza: Hi, good. Um, I'm a fan of your writing.
  • Host: Thank you.
  • Lanza: I'm sorry to bring up such an old news story, but I couldn't find anything that you said about the topic, and it seems relevant to your interests, so I thought I would bring up Travis the Chimp. Do you remember him?
  • Host: I don't.
  • Lanza: Well, um, he was a highly domesticated chimpanzee, who lived in a suburban home in Stamford, Connecticut.
  • Co-Host: Oh, yeah.
  • Host: Oh.
  • Lanza: And he was raised just like a human child, starting from the week he was born. By the time that he was fourteen years old, which would be somewhere around age twenty in human years, um...
  • Host: Uh-huh.
  • Lanza: ...he slept in a bed, he took his own baths, he dressed himself, he brushed his teeth with an electric toothbrush...
  • Host: (laughs) Really? When was this?
  • Lanza: Um... well.. (chuckles) this happened in early two-thousand-and-nine.
  • Co-host and Host: Oh!
  • Lanza: He ate his meals at a table, and he enjoyed human foods like ice cream, and used a remote control to watch television, and liked baseball games... and he even used a computer to look at pictures on the internet.
  • Host: Huh.
  • Lanza: And... (chuckles) it goes without saying that Travis was very overweight; he was two hundred pounds when he should have been around the low hundreds. And he was actually taking Xanax.
  • Co-Host: (laughing)
  • Host: Amazing.
  • Lanza: I couldn't find any information about why he was taking it, but it just seems to say a lot that he was given it at all. And, basically, I think Travis wasn't any different than a mentally handicapped human child.
  • Host: Hmm.
  • Lanza: But, anyway, one day in February 2009, he was acting very agitated, and at some point grabbed the car - his owner's - car keys, and went outside and started leaping from car to car, apparently wanting to go for a car ride. And he was acting very aggressively, so, his owner called her over to get her to help calm him down and get him to go back inside, and once she arrived, he immediately attacked her, and his owner tried to stop him, but couldn't, and she even resorted to stabbing him with a knife, but nothing worked.
  • And she said that after she stabbed him, he looked at her as if to say "Why'd you do that to me, Mom?" Because apparently that was what their relationship was like; no different than between a human mother and child.
  • So, after stabbing, she called the police, who arrived twelve minutes after the attack, at which point her friend was... pretty close to dead. And once the cruiser came up, Travis went over to it, tried to open the locked passenger door. He smashed off the side mirror, went over to the driver's door, opened it, and the cop shot him. He fled back into the house, where he went to his playroom and bled to death.
  • Host: Hmm.
  • Lanza: And... (chuckles) um, it might not seem very relevant, but I'm bringing it up because afterward, everyone was condemning his owner for, saying how irresponsible she was for raising a chimp like it was a child, and that she should have that something like this would happen, because chimps aren't supposed to be living in civilization, they're supposed to be living in the wild, among each other. But, their criticism stops there-
  • Host: Mmm-hmm.
  • Lanza: -and the implication is that there's no way that anything could have gone wrong in this life if he were living in this civilization as a human, rather than a chimp.
  • Host: Ah, indeed.
  • Lanza: Because, uh, he brings up questions about this whole process of child-raising.
  • Host: Yeah.
  • Lanza: Civilization isn't something which just happens to gently exist without us having to do anything, because every newborn child - human child - is born in a chimp-like state, and civilization is only sustained by conditioning them for years on end, so that they'll accept it for what it is, and since we've gone through this conditioning, we can observe a human family raising a human child - and I'm sure that even you have trouble intuitively seeing it as something unnatural - but when we see a chimp in that position, we immediately know that there's something profoundly wrong with the situation. And it's easy to say there's something wrong with it simply because it's a chimp, but what's the real difference between us and our closest relatives?
  • Travis wasn't an untamed monster at all. Um, he wasn't just feigning domestication, he was civilized. Um, he was able to integrate into society, he was a chimp actor when he was younger, and his owner drove him around the city frequently in association with her towing business, where he met many different people, and got alone with everyone. If Travis had been some nasty monster all his life, it would have been widely reported. But, to the contrary, it seems like everyone who knew him said how shocked they were that Travis had been so savage, because they knew him as a sweet child, and... there were two isolated incidents early in his life where he acted aggressively, but... summarizing them would take too long, so basically I'll just say that he didn't really any differently than a human child would, and the people who would use that as an indictment against having chimps live as humans do wouldn't apply the same thing to humans, so it's just kind of irrelevant.
  • Host: Uh-huh.
  • Lanza: Bu anyway, look what civilization did to him; it had the same exact effect on him as it has on humans. He was profoundly sick in every sense of the term, and he had to resort to these surrogate activities like watching baseball, and looking at pictures on a computer screen, and taking Xanax. He was a complete mess.
  • Host: Mmm-hmm.
  • Lanza: And his attack wasn't simply because he was a senselessly violent, impulsive chimp. Uhm, which was how his behavior was universally portrayed. Um, immediately before the attack, he had desperately been wanting his owner to drive him somewhere, and the best reason I can think of for why he would want that, looking at his entire life, would be that... some little things he experienced was the last straw, and he was overwhelmed at the life that he had, and he wanted to get out of it by changing his environment, and the best way that he knew how to deal with that was getting his owner to drive him somewhere else.
  • Host: Yeah.
  • Lanza: And when his owner's... owner's friend, arrived, he knew that she was trying to coax him back into his place of domestication, and he couldn't handle that, so he attacked her, and anyone else who approached them. And dismissing his attack as simply being the senseless violence and impulsiveness of a chimp, instead of a human, is wishful thinking at best.
  • Host: Mmm-hmm.
  • Lanza: His attack can be seen entirely parallel to the attacks and random acts of violence that you bring up on your show every week, committed by humans, which the mainstream also has no explanation for-and-
  • Host: No.
  • Lanza: -and, actual humans... I just- just don't think it would be such a stretch to say that he very well could have been a teenage mall shooter or something like that.
  • Host: Yeah. Yeah.
  • Lanza: And-
  • Host: Wow. Thank you, Greg.
  • Lanza: Yeah.
  • Host: That's quite a story. That's, uh, really apropos, isn't it? Travis the chimp.
  • Lanza: It's just that I'm a little surprised that I haven't heard you bring it up all because... (laughs) maybe I'm just seeing connections where there aren't any, but-
  • Host: Not at, I uh, think not. No, I just... I didn't catch that one. I didn't uh... maybe I was out of the country or something, I don't know, but I missed that it. Thanks very much, man.
  • Lanza: Thank you. Bye.
  • Host: Take care.
  • (Lanza hangs up)

anonymous asked:

Hi! Didn't know that you had an Annie plot! Do the head of security and the billionaire socialite realize that they like each other?

Cassian realizes he has feelings for Jyn first, and professional that he is, he realizes that there exists an inappropriate and unbalanced power balance in their work relationship. He’s also not certain how she feels. He knows she’s attracted to him–that’s obvious enough from the way she looks at him sometimes, how she let him hold her for for a beat too long after the last security incident, how she sometimes takes his arm and smiles–but maybe he’s just a trusted employee, and in her lonely life with only her money to keep her company until Finn came into her life, she simply craves any sort of human kindness or affection.

So all that said, Cassian, when he realizes the extent of his feelings for Jyn Erso, resigns as head of security.

Jyn at first is shocked and hurt. (“Why did he quit? If he was unhappy here, he should have said something to me. Doesn’t he know how much his work is valued here?”) Finn looks at her with his big eyes and doesn’t say anything because he’s come to realize that Jyn has to come to the conclusion about Cassian herself. But he does give her a big hug and then as many other hugs as she needs after that (and he’s better at sensing when she does than she is herself for when she needs one). And stiff upper lip and all, Jyn hires on Bob Fett as her new head of security, even if she does find some of his ways a bit…mercenary.

But she finds herself looking over her shoulder almost every day expecting to see Cassian there, and when she does not, there’s an ache in her chest that sends her to her doctor for a checkup (“The EKG checks out. You’re in perfect health, Ms. Erso, though perhaps you are suffering from some sort of anxiety? Has anything changed recently that might be causing you distress?”)

Weeks pass, and then one day when she is out at dinner with a business partner, she sees Cassian enter a restaurant with a beautiful woman, his hand on her back. He’s dressed in a handsome gray suit, his beard trimmed. She feels her throat tighten and then her anger (and jealousy) flare hot and bright.

“So what’s why he left?” she mutters to herself, and her business partner, Han Solo, looks up from his menu and says, “Something wrong, kid?”

Jyn seethes for a good part of the meal. She can’t see where Cassian and his date are seated, but then she sees him crossing her line of sight. “Excuse me, Han,” she says, throwing down her napkin and getting up. She follows Cassian toward the bathrooms, and in the winding hallway back, grabs him roughly by the arm. Surprised, he spins and pins her. Then, realizing who his assailant is, he drops her arm, his shocked silence finally followed by a stuttered, “Jyn?”

“I see you’ve moved on to better things,” she says, tartly. (I’m more professional and poised than this, she thinks to herself, but then thinks, well, things between me and Cassian are no longer professional so who cares?)

He drops his head, looks embarrassed.

She swallows hard, the next words forced out. “You know, you could have said something to me. If it was so terribly difficult to work for me, you could have spoken to me. Or if not to me, to Bodhi. We could have made changes to make you happy.”

Confusions flashes in his eyes, and then his dark eyes sharpen. “I didn’t leave because of work.”

“Then why?” she asks. A woman passes them on the way to the restroom and Jyn squeezes closer to Cassian to let her through. She looks up at him. “Was it because of me?”

“Yes,” he says at last, and Jyn feels herself deflate.

“Oh. So that’s why you didn’t even say goodbye?”

“I didn’t know how.”

“I didn’t know you disliked me so much. I thought I was good at reading people, but clearly I’m not…”

“I don’t dislike you, Jyn.”

He’s looking at her oddly and her heart is racing. She doesn’t know how long they’ve been standing in this hallway. It feels like it’s been an eternity. But it’s felt like an eternity since she last saw him, too, and Jyn realizes how hard it has been to have this Cassian-shaped hole in her life.

Finally, he sighs when she doesn’t respond. “I should get going. I don’t want to keep you from your date.”

“Date?” she says, and she thinks of Han waiting back at the table. So Cassian had seen her–had noticed that she was at a table with a man. “It’s not a date.” Her head is swimming. “How about yours? You should get back to your date.”

“It’s not a date” he echoes, “it’s a new detail,” and Jyn feels out of her body as her hand reaches up to cup his face. She feels him lean into her hand, and blood rushes to her head.

“We should both still get back though, shouldn’t we? But say goodbye properly, this time?”

“Yes,” he says hoarsely, and she feels herself rising on her toes and pulling his face to hers, his mouth meeting hers halfway. His arms wrap around her torso and everything finally clicks into place.

And so it’s not goodbye for them tonight. It’s hello again. It’s welcome back. It’s welcome home.

the Annie AU

wendlaswound  asked:

Ooo if you want prompts, could you do Zoe and Connor bonding, or growing apart if you'd rather do angst, but anything with the Murphy sibling because they didn't get the chance they deserved

((The Murphy siblings did not get a chance, so here’s them bonding bc there’s far too much angst in this fandom anyway))

“I am not letting you paint my nails–” Zoe started, reading the label on the bottle of polish, “Springtime Honeydew.”
“Why not?” Connor protested.
“Because its green,” Zoe responded, wrinkling her nose.
“Just trust me,” Connor implored his sister.
“Fine,” Zoe huffed, settling down and trusting her hand at Connor. “But if it sucks, its your fault.”
“I’m willing to take that gamble.” Connor replied dryly. He grabbed her hand and twisted the cap off the small green bottle. Scraping the excess polish off into the side of the bottle, Connor began to paint Zoe’s nails with precise, tiny strokes as Zoe flicked boredly through her Instagram.
“Other hand,” Connor commanded when huge had finished, setting Zoe’s painted hand down on the floor. Zoe wordlessly put down her phone and swapped hands, lifting her painted her to survey Connor’s work. It wasn’t bad, she admitted to herself, gently blowing on her nails to dry them faster. Connor painted Zoe’s other hand, using the same precise strokes as before. When he had finished her other hand, Connor pulled out a small bottle of gold polish for detailing. He proceeded to paint a thin strip of gold on the tip of each nail, resembling a french manicure.
“You’re good at this,” Zoe remarked with a slight air of surprise. Connor huffed out a laugh.
“I should hope so,” He said, waggling his fingers at his sister, “These nails dont paint themselves. Zoe laughed and swatted his hands away.
"Give me five minutes and then i get to work my magic.” Zoe got up, waving her hands through the air to dry her nails faster. She disappeared in the general direction of her bathroom, and returned a few minutes later with a bag full of god-knows-what. “So, should we start with hair or makeup?”
“Ow. OW. Hey, OW!” Connor protested as Zoe tugged at and combed trough his hair. “I was much more gentle with you when i was doing your nails!”
“Yeah, and my nails didn’t resemble a rat’s nest. Honestly, Connor, what hair products are you using? If you going to keep it long I’m going to make mom get you good shampoo and conditioner and all that stuff. And hey, beauty is pain.” Zoe replied, tugging a knot out of Connor’s hair while he winced.
“Can I fix your eyebrows?” Zoe asked later, once she had moved onto doing Connor’s makeup. He hadn’t been allowed to look in a mirror yet.
“What’s wrong with them right now?” Connor questioned.
“Well, they could use a little bit of shaping and plucking here and there…”
“Fine, go ahead, but don’t make it too drastic or you know dad will kill me.” Connor relented, and Zoe beamed with delight. In all honestly, having his makeup done was very…relaxing, oddly enough. It was nice to just sit and have someone take care of you, with all the different brushes and products thats Connor didn’t even know the names of, let alone the purpose.
“Okay, I’m almost done, you can look soon but not quite yet,” Zoe said after a while. “Close your eyes, I’m going to dust you with setting powder.” Connor held stock still while Zoe used an obnoxiously large burst to dust powder over his face. “Keep your eyes closed and stand up, I’m going to lead you over to the mirror.”
Connor stood up somewhat clumsily and allowed himself to be led to and then stopped in front of the full-length mirror in Zoe’s room.
“You can look now,” Zoe said gently. Connor slowly opened his eyes and took in the sight before him. He looked, well, beautiful. No beautiful didn’t quite cover it. He looked almost otherworldly, as though he was a some sort of dark prince from Fairyland. Zoe had exaggerated his naturally slim face with a little bit of a contour, and did what was probably a smoky eye in dark grays and– was that a hint of navy? His lashes seemed to stretch on for miles with the mascara, sharply winged eyeliner adding to the effect, and his cheekbones seemed to glisten in the light. To finish it off, Zoe had braided his hair into an elaborate updo that looked like it deserved to have wildflowers woven through it.
“Wow,” Connor breathed, “I look like a bad-ass.” Zoe laughed and joined Connor in the mirror’s reflection.

((Disclaimer: I don’t remember writing most of this, tbh, as i wrote it on the 14 hour plane ride when I was deliriously frustrated and wanted to land already. Regardless– Enjoy!))

The Ring Pt. 2

Originally posted by awhoreslies

Pt. 1

The day you left Birmingham you never looked back. Your family understood what you had to do and you kept in touch, even all the way from America.

You’d taken the train that day 5 long years ago, headed to London. Thankfully you had found a decent man, nothing like John, yet decent enough and who loved you and provided for you. You were married soon after you met and moving to American for his business just before the Blinders took over London.

Your new life was good, average, but never quite what you expected. You lived for the thrill, for excitement and the most you got with David was when you argued about children; he wanted them but didn’t. The truth was you wanted children, but you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to bare them with a man who didn’t have your heart. It was better being away from John but it was like he was always haunting you. He found his way into your thoughts often, leaving you to wonder what his life was like.

Even though you often found yourself dwelling on the past, life charged forward, brining more surprises, like the letter from your father.

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Not Teasing

Also on AO3
Chronologically follows “Good Kitty” but can stand on its own.
Sorry to be late with this one.  I was too tired to do it justice last night.  This is for the Sin II prompt, and I actually followed the intent this time instead of getting clever, so if topless Marinette isn’t your thing, skip this one.

Marinette was just wrapping up a designing session when Chat showed up.  She’d left her Chat flap window open, which had become the easy and obvious sign for just come on in .  She stood up and stretched as he dropped down, once again bypassing her bed.  He’d explained once that he didn’t want to get her covers dirty.

“Hey Princess, what are you… oooooh.”  He joined her at her desk, where she laid out all of this evening’s designs for review.  His eyes roamed over the designs which ranged from casual to what she liked to call extreme fashion.  "How long have you been working?“ he asked.

She arched her back and slowly rolled her shoulders.  "Two…”  She glanced at the clock.  "Er, almost three hours.  I dunno.  My brain just exploded with ideas after dinner and I wanted to get them all down.“

He gaped at her.  "Whatever fashion house is lucky enough to get you is going to be the envy of Europe, if not the world.”

She smiled brightly at him.  "Flattery will get you everywhere.“

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NEW || Pizza

“Yes mom, I remember. Yeah. No, I didn’t make any plans, I told you I remember. Yeah, I know. I know, mom.” I said to the phone and rolled my eyes.

I laid back in my chair, raising my legs to rest them on my desk in front of me. Seeing this as a cue, Pickles, my dog –he was a Schnauzer. Or, well, a Miniature Schnauzer, but don’t tell him that- immediately jumped on my lap and curled in a little ball, his face turned just enough for him to eye me carefully from the corner or his eyes. I gave him a small smile.

“Yes, mom. Yes, I will. I will, I already told you, I-” I left my sentence unfinished, as she cut me off again. I groaned. “Mom! I said I’ll be there, would you drop it already?” I said, my voice raising and Pickles’ head shot up in alarm.

I let out sigh. “I know it’s important for dad, okay? I’ll be there, I promise.” I exclaimed in a much calmer demeanor. “I know you do. Yes. Yeah, okay. Alright. Aha. Okay, bye.” I mumbled, and quickly added “Love you!” before finally hanging up.

Pickles was stating right at me and with yet another sigh I raised my hand to pet his head.
“I guess we’re going back to Moline for Thanksgiving, buddy.” I told him with a small grimace. “With all those annoying redheads you don’t like and the big scary cows.”

Prickles just blinked at me.

“Well, at least you’ll get to chaise around the chickens.” I said with a shrug, and at the last word he immediately stood up in alarm, his eyes wide and ears erected.

I giggled. “Not now dummy. At the farm. The only chickens you’ll find here are in the fridge. Which reminds me…” I trailed off, narrowing my eyes. I took hold of Pickles and gave him a quick kiss before setting him on the ground so that I could stand up. “Does pizza sound good for dinner?” I asked him. “Sure it does.” I replied to myself instead. “And some delicious dry food for my little man. How lucky are you to have me as a mom?”

He gaped at me.

I shook my head. “Okay, well, now I’m definitely not letting you take a single bite of pizza. You brought this on yourself, bud.” I muttered while walking to the kitchen cabinet and grabbing the catalog of the pizza place down the corner, the phone in my hand.

One-sided arguments with my dog. Story of my life.

With a sigh I quickly dilated the number. The beeping sound came twice before I heard a male voice echo in my ears.

“Pepi’s Pizza, how can I help you?”

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waitingforeleven  asked:

Idk if you've addressed this yet, but in SBS, when did Fitz finally get around to proposing? I just read your answer about how they started thinking about marriage right before she gets taken by the monolith, so how much time passes before he pops the question? And how does he go about it? ;-) ❤❤❤

I haven’t addressed that yet, but - it happens during what’s 3x17 in canon. :-)

they’ve just survived yet another bomb - for Fitz and Sarama, this is far, far too similar to 8/8. so Fitz snaps unnecessarily at Lincoln, and moodily agrees with Coulson that they lie low for the time being. 

once the four of them are in their room, Jemma gets right to work, leaning back against Caedmon at the end of the queen-sized bed and grumbling about how they should be in the lab. Fitz, agitated, just stands in the center of the room for a bit, trying to calm down from the horror of having seen a second bomb go off far too close to Jemma and Caedmon. what if next time the bomb hits its target? absent-mindedly, she reaches up to the edge of the bed to rub the backs of her fingers against Sarama’s scales, and that familiar feeling of her touching his soul just crashes over him. what would his life be without her? without knowing that at least she was somewhere

and as Fitz is watching her do work, something he sees her do every day but now with cuts and bruises on her face, he just blurts it out:

“Will you marry me?”

Jemma blinks up at him, lips parting in shock. “What?”

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anonymous asked:

When is the first reference to Snape having greasy hair? I have this headcanon that after he learned how to do cleaning spells on himself to get clean he hardly ever bathed because he couldn't be bothered/didn't care/didn't like baths. He wouldn't have offended and wouldn't have wasted time on something as innocuous as personal care which I never thought was important to him really. Thoughts?

By book, Harry notices it the moment he spies Snape:

Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

By Snape’s own chronology, it’s really when he’s a teenager; he’s described as dirty-haired as a kid, but not specifically greasy (worse, really!)…but Harry spots a ‘greasy haired teenager’ in Snape’s mind, and observes Snape’s greasy hair for himself during Snape’s Worst Memory.

Snape’s appearance is a real oddity.  I can’t quite decide what’s going on.  Part of the problem is that we have no comparison point for his greasy hair - is it greasy because he should wash it 3 times a week, and he only does it once?  Or is it greasy because he washes it once a month, and he should be washing it several times a week?

(I also find it slightly odd that he has a hairstyle that is more cumbersome; if he doesn’t like looking after it, why not have a shorter, more manageable cut?  Although I do like the ‘he hides behind his hair as a spy’ headcanon.)

Personally, I lean towards the idea that he’s doing something about his hygiene, because he lives and works in very close quarters with other people, and there’s an intimation that he has other contact outside of Hogwarts.  If he smelled terrible, I think his greasy hair would be the last of the students’ concerns when they’re locked in a dungeon with him for double Potions.

So yes, I go along with what you say - I think he’s a touch lazy.  It’s not that he’s dirty, it’s just that he’d rather finish his book, or meddle with a potion, or even stay in bed - and he just doesn’t get to it until he really really can’t avoid it any longer.

I do have a pet headcanon that he had issues with washing from his youth, as the washing facilities at Spinner’s End would’ve been less than stellar - even though Hogwarts’ facilities are excellent, it can be hard to create a habit.  If his parents only washed once or twice a week, would he ever see the need to wash more often?  

And if he was dirty haired as a kid, then he’s obviously made some sort of an ‘improvement’ once he gets to Hogwarts.  Maybe he’s just got unfortunate hair, and he’s done all he can be bothered to with it already, and he’s not prepared to invest in potions or products to improve it.

I don’t lean Pottermore way, but with the idea of Potter’s family being involved in hair products, that’s quite a nice line - that he could have nice hair, but he refuses to bother because he won’t patronise anything to do with James Potter.  

Personally, I particularly like the idea of him using a spell, and it having the effect of keeping him clean, but not really managing his hair.  He knows it’s not great, but faced between the hassle of a shower and a quick flick of his wand, he can never quite convince himself that he needs the former…not during the week when he’s teaching, anyway.

Still, my favourite headcanon is to do with him during the summer of OotP/HBP, when he’s living with Pettigrew.  I love that nobody mentions his greasy hair…so I can’t help but feel that he goes from barely remembering to wash it to standing in the shower for an hour each day.

After all, where else in that tiny house could he go to get some peace from Pettigrew without him risking bursting in?

No wonder his hair was clean.

Re: Erza Scarlet

I call this the ‘I’m not gonna defend Erza’s behaviour but I will be damned if I don’t try to find a reason for it’ post, now with images! There is a tl;dr if you don’t want to read everything here.

Alright, so from her introduction, the first thing we know about her is that she scares people in the guild. She’s strong and, to some readers, comes off as a little high and mighty. It is plain to see that she is in control.

From the first time we see Erza in the guildhall, we also see most of the other members looking nervous or pretty scared. You don’t even HAVE to look past the first panel to see that. Her presence is intimidating.

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Derek is the popular, varsity jock, prom king of the school, and Stiles is not going to be the cliche that ends up falling for him. (It’s not a cliche if no one else knows about it, right?)

My entry for the Sterek Support Network’s August prompt: school AUs. I was kind of at a loss for ideas so I just ended up grabbing about seven rough ideas from my school themed prompt list (bonus points if you can pick out all the ones I used) and stuck them all together. It’s a little late and a little long, but hopefully you guys enjoy it.

“I can’t believe I got stuck working with Derek Hale,” Stiles groans, dropping his tray to the lunch table with a flourish that sets his pasta surprise (surprise! It’s not actually pasta) jiggling worryingly.

Across the table, Scott tries to mold his expression into one of sympathy, but it only lasts about two seconds before a smile starts creeping out again.

“Dude, it’s not really that bad, is it?”

Stiles snorts.

“Obviously it’s not bad for you. You got to partner up with your girlfriend.” The grin’s back in full force now, and Stiles figures he can’t really blame the guy since he and Kira have been dancing around each other all summer, but only made things official when school started up again a week back. Still, Stiles can’t help feeling a little betrayed. Where’s the best friend solidarity? The loyalty? Two solid years as lab partners up in smoke at the barest nudge and a hint of a shy smile, and Scott’s not even trying to feel bad about it.

Meanwhile,” he continues, while Lydia and Danny slip into seats a little ways up the table, “I get stuck working with one of only four seniors in the entire school taking chemistry. You know what it means when a senior takes chemistry, Scotty? It means they weren’t smart enough to take it as a junior.”

Scott bites down on a laugh (seriously, the traitor) while Danny eyes him thoughtfully.

“Aren’t you guys taking AP Chem?”

Not the point,” Stiles replies, waving him off. “Actually that just makes it worse. His parents probably made him take it for college apps or something. I am going to be carrying this guy all year.”

Lydia takes a bite of her salad, somehow managing to make biting a cucumber seem like a predatory act.

“I’m sure he’d be willing to carry you if you asked him nicely.”

Stiles groans.

“Not this again,” he mutters, stabbing his fork viciously into a noodle. The fork slides right over the rubbery surface and sends it bouncing off the tray and straight into the side of Scott’s brown lunch bag.

They all stare at the escaped noodle blankly for several seconds, before Stiles slides his tray pointedly away.

“Do we seriously need to run through this one more time? I am not into Derek. I wasn’t into him last spring when I showed up to lacrosse games to cheer on Scott. I was not into him over the summer just because he had that stupid lifeguard job and I liked going to the pool. I like swimming, ok? If anyone was ogling his abs it was you two.” He shoots Lydia and Danny pointedly judgmental looks. Lydia smirks while Danny shrugs, unashamed.

“Hey, I know how to appreciate a view. What’s weird is you protesting so much.”

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LOT/CC fic: Just One Night, Ch. 2 (of 4)

When Team Legends returns to Central City for Barry and Iris’ wedding, Sara jumps at a chance to do something, anything, else.

She doesn’t even remotely suspect where that decision will lead her. (Or to whom.)

Thanks, as always, to @larielromeniel for the beta! Can also be read here at AO3 or here at

It’s melodramatic to say that the world tilts around her, but that’s precisely what it feels like. Sara puts a hand to the wall as if checking to see that it’s still there, that she’s not dreaming, that she’s not going to wake up in a moment, stomach and heart clenched with a pain she can’t show. 

It is there, cool and solid beneath her fingers, and that’s all the moment of weakness she gives herself. And then her gun is in her hand, aimed straight for his heart, and if her hands are shaking just the tiniest bit, well, she knows she can compensate for that. 

“Don’t move,” she repeats, keeping her voice cold, without a quaver. “I will fire."  

Leonard tilts his head just a little and regards her for a moment that feels like forever. 

"Ah,” he says, finally. “Right.” Slowly, he raises his hands in front of him, eyes never leaving hers, and they’re not that rat bastard’s eyes, there’s actually warmth in them and concern… “The last time you saw me, it was that me." 

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*hit by the nostalgia train so draws tfc aus*

  • Neil’s the son of a privately-sponsored (coughMoriyamascough) alchemist who illegally researches human transmutation.  While on the run with his mother, he learned all sorts of alchemy and uses a miss-mash of practices from multiple countries.  He joined the military after his mother died, meeting Kevin by coincidence and eventually being convinced to take the state alchemist exam.  He passed despite purposely downplaying his ability, joined Dan Wilds’ “Fox” unit, falls in love with them, and is way to handsome for Andrew’s poor gay heart to handle.
  • Andrew Minyard was a brilliant alchemist who specialized in explosions and creating a lot of collateral damage.  The corrupt branch of the military, run by the Moriyamas, wanted him badly; when he refused they took him to court, ruled that he must be on medication that prevents him from actually doing alchemy (due to the “danger”), and forced him into the military.  His saving grace was General Wymack, who let him join the Foxes.  It was through him and the military’s personnel files that Andrew found a brother and cousin, both of whom soon transferred into the same unit.  When the mess with the Moriyamas and Neil’s father is over and he finally gets off the meds, Andrew quits the military because if it’s a choice between stupid anti-fraternizing laws and Neil Josten, there really isn’t a choice.
  • Kevin Day is the only other state alchemist of the unit.  Originally with the Moriyamas, he escaped to the command of his father when Riko mutilated his left hand so badly that he had to amputate it and get automail.  He stayed in the military for protection but also because he needs the funding to be able to research alchemy.  Aside from secret encounters with Thea, alchemy is his life.
  • Dan Wilds had been kicked by the system again and again: for being a woman, for previously being a stripper, for being a Fox.  She’s driven and brilliant and good at basically every aspect of command and being a soldier, if you ignore the fact that she’s leading her team to take down the roughly a quarter of the military.
  • Matt Boyd was the only one resembling an alchemist before Kevin joined.  He used to practice a bit as a kid and kept it up, but never really had the skills or motivation to take the exam.  Instead, he’s loyal, the unit’s best sniper, great at hand-to-hand, and generally perfect.  He and Dan are definitely in love with each other but smart enough to realize that they shouldn’t do anything about it.  They both sort-of deal with it by somewhat-adopting Neil.
  • Aaron Minyard is a non-alchemist medic (aka jealous over Neil’s basic alkahestry skills) and joined the unit after General Wymack told him about his brother.  He secretly cares, really deep inside. 
  • Allison Reynolds is more than capable of holding her own in fights and battles, but puts her fancy and expensive engineering degrees to work mainly as a technician for the team.  She builds a good camaraderie with Neil as a result, and is maybe not as subtle as she should be when she’s feeling particularly spiteful towards the Moriyamas.
  • Nicky Hemmick’s good with a gun, good with maintenance, and passably good at dealing with Andrew (when Andrew wants to be dealed with).  He’s in the military mainly for Aaron and later for Andrew, and has dealt with a lot of prejudice both for being gay and because of his ethnicity.  He also quits when Andrew does, travelling to the west where he eventually meets and marries Erik Klose.
  • Renee Walker is by far the best one to send on quiet recons, raids, or attacks.  Her skills with a knife are a lot subtler than loud gunshots and bursts of alchemical light, though she prefers not to have to use them.  She joined the military because she wanted to protect people, and usually stays back as support unless Dan asks or a Fox is in trouble.  She’s Ishvalan, and dedicates herself to making sure history isn’t repeated.
  • General David Wymack had to fight every step of the way for his position and uses it to try to erase the corruption in the military.  He’s infamous for recruiting a lot of individuals who no other unit wanted, despite their brilliance.  He loves Dan’s team a lot more than he should, considering that he’s the one responsible for sending them into battle.

BONUS:  the Trojans unit mainly deal with humanitarian efforts, but are incredible in battle.  Their leader, Lieutenant-General Knox, has risked his life more than a few times to save others.  They end up joining the Foxes once the coup begins.

The Statistical Probability of Falling in Love at First Sight

Merry Late Christmas! I’m really sorry about the lateness, but when I entered the secret santa, I had a functioning laptop, and that is not currently the case.
I got my idea from a book I really like by the same name, check it out.
Rated: G
Pairing: Riarkle
Setting: Airport AU, snowed in
Here on ao3

This goes out to @itsfriarshart ​, my secret santa. Happy holidays!

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House of Wind - fic

This is what I imagine happens every morning in the House of Wind, based on an idea that came from this post. Just a little Moriel fluff, I hope you like it! (There is a tiny bit of angst in there, it just came out of nowhere, I swear.)



It is still early in the morning at the House of Wind, and the sun is just breaking over the horizon, light pouring into the open kitchen windows. Azriel is in his usual spot, on a bench where he can easily take in the crisp air. Something about this time of the morning feels cleaner, more pure, as if the daylight and the noise of regular life mute his senses rather than aid them, and this is the only time that he can see clearly through his shadows. He has already heard Morrigan stirring, and is waiting for her to come to him.

He looks up as she quietly pads into the kitchen, stretching and blinking as she tries to wake up. Her nightgown swings around her thighs, the hem brushing just above her knees, and from his seat Azriel appreciates the way the silk moves on her. A cup of coffee is waiting for her on the counter, still steaming. He has made sure that it has an adequate amount of cream and sugar. He doesn’t understand how she can drink it so sweet, and usually does the opposite for his own. After all this time, though, he has the ratio right. She makes a small satisfied noise and grabs the mug before she takes her usual place at his side.

She slides onto the padded bench and tucks herself into him, legs bent over his lap, and he places a hand on her bare knee. “Thank you,” she manages to whisper. Azriel makes a small grunt in response. She smiles to herself. Every morning, for so long that she’s forgotten when it began, Azriel has been waiting here for her. She isn’t sure how he knows when she wakes, how he always manages to be up before her to make her coffee. As long as he isn’t away, she knows what to expect when she walks into this room.

“Azriel.” Mor’s voice is still quiet, scratchy from having recently woken up. She is warm against his side and he resists the urge to pull her in closer. Between her and the sun coming in from the window next to him, he feels like he wouldn’t know how to describe the dark right now if his life depended on it.

“Yes, love?”

She clears her throat. “I had a dream about you.” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Not like that,” she grins. “No, in the dream we owned a pet store.”

Azriel starts. “A… pet store?”

She nods her head. “Mm-hm. Someone brought in a kitten they had found out in the woods. We were trying to decide if we should keep it or put it up for adoption. It was tiny and fluffy and black. But we already had so many cats. In the dream, that is. You and me. And so we had to give it away.” She rests her head on his shoulder.

“We gave it away,” he confirms. His voice rumbles through her body.

“Yes. But you were very particular about who he went to. It was very sweet of you.” She nestles further into his side, trying to steal some of his warmth. She knows she should wear something heavier, that covers more of her, but she enjoys the look on his face when she walks in every morning. The way he tries to pretend he doesn’t notice, acts like he isn’t cataloguing every bit of bare skin. Anyway, he has never minded that she comes to him every time, pretending that she can do nothing for the cold except press her body into his.

“That sounds like a nice dream, love.”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs.

Sometimes, he knows that she has nightmares. He hears her thrashing, calling out for him to find her. He dreads the nights when she needs him in that way. When it happens, he goes to her and holds her until she realizes that he has found her not in the Autumn Court, but in her room, in Velaris. That the wounds only exist in her memory now. After those nights, he must find her and coax her to get out of bed the next morning. If he even leaves her room, that is. He counts the days when her nightmares leave her in peace, and is grateful for them.

Moments pass in silence while they drink their coffee, neither of them thinking about anything except the comfort of being with the person next to them. Azriel watches while the sun rises slowly, the light in the nook slowly changing, becoming less otherworldly and more solid, more like the reality they will have to face soon when they part and cool air takes the place of her at his side. He wishes he could freeze this time, that every morning would start like this. That there would be no more missions or time apart, just the warmth and familiarity of her form pressed against his, her breathing the only other sound in the room.

“Azriel, could we get a kitten one day?” Sometimes Morrigan asks him questions like this, about the future, and it makes his heart skip a beat.

“If you want one, of course.” He turns his head to kiss the top of hers where it is resting on his shoulder. She presses herself closer into his warmth at that, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder in a particularly cat-like manner, reassuring herself. She might go back to sleep in this position, if they aren’t careful. She takes another sip of the coffee he has prepared for her and makes a small noise that he takes for contentment. Azriel can’t help when a corner of his mouth lifts to smile slightly, and he continues drinking from his own cup. He leans his cheek into the top of her head almost imperceptibly, not caring when a stray wisp of hair tickles his chin.

“For right now, I think I’d like some waffles,” she says.

“I’ve already got the ingredients out.” He knows that he needs to get up, leave this spot, but he doesn’t want to be the one to make the move. An interruption makes the decision easier.

Cassian walks in on the two, curled on each other and seemingly inextricable. By now he is used to the way they envelope themselves in their own world when they are at the House of Wind. The intimacy that Mor and Azriel have developed over the centuries might surprise their friends, but for Cassian, it has become normal.

“Morning,” Mor says in a voice that is suddenly energetic and almost chipper. She moves away from Azriel slightly and he tries to keep his disappointment at bay.

“Good morning,” Cassian replies. He nods to Azriel and then keeps his back to them as he gets his own coffee and breakfast, trying to leave them some semblance of privacy. He isn’t sure what this thing is that they do, but it brings them both comfort. Azriel is able to take care of her instead of retreat into himself. And for Morrigan, she gains the knowledge that Azriel does care for her, though it might not take quite the form she wants. Yet.

“Azriel was just going to make me some waffles. I might share them with you,” she says playfully.

“No thanks,” he declines. “I need to be off.”

Cassian raises his coffee cup to them by way of goodbye and walks out of the room. On his way, he notices a look exchanged between Azriel and Morrigan, a quick return to their own universe. What is hidden beneath that glance is a puzzle to him, though he is sure that each of them are able to read it as clearly as if they had spoken.

Returning to quiet understanding again, Azriel stands from the bench and begins to prepare breakfast while she watches. In these moments, she feels full to bursting – she is as at ease now as she has ever been, and she knows that there is little else they could do for one another that would show more devotion, more care.

When he is done, he brings the food to her. Azriel watches her eat, content in the fact that he will do this again tomorrow, that if she has a nightmare instead of a dream he will go to her, and that for these few moments, there is no one else in the world but them.