this was called 'i can has sunlight

good trans will fic ideas besides the usual “coming out” tale;

1) binder fashion show - will is the self proclaimed Binder Boy and buys every single binder design ever. its a good thing he lives at camp and has wealthy friends (nico - “your boyfriend should be your best friend” - and cecil) otherwise he’d be suffocated by debt

2) nico (or lover of your choice, though i myself am partial to a finely aged Solange TM) having to buy menstrual products and being a total weenie about it. please consider this. bonus: cashier jokes “for your girlfriend?” and he gets steely and protective and growls “my BOYfriend, actually” and leaves the store glaring at the cashier for assuming. bonus bonus bonus; dont use the term “feminine hygiene”. keep things as gender neutral as possible. bonus bonus; “menstruation… more like, MANstruation!! hahaha geddit nico, cuz im a dude? ….nico? neeks, where are you going, come laugh at my-”

3) beach day fic, because every anime needs a beach episode and pjo is my favorite anime, obviously. you get to have fun picking out beach wear, plus everyone gets to be cute and splash around. maybe will cant go into the water because he doesnt have one of the special binders and mentions this, or hes wearing a bikini top (“its my MANkini. wait is that already a thing”) with a tank top over it so you can see his Moobs TM. bonus if a monster attacks and everyone is ready to fight, but will (who has taken down HOW MANY?? enemies with a single whistle) just waves his hand like hes shooing a bug and a flash of sunlight cuts the huge creature in half. he then goes back to reclining in the sun, calling to nico/your lover of choice to “come back over here, baby, sit with meee~!! its so nice out today, isnt it?”

4) zombie apocalypse or just apocalypse au. will Refuses to bind with bandage and thus has visible boobs. you can vaguely mention he’s transgender then go back to the zombie punching and otherwise assorted badass violence

5) any fic at all. like above, all you gotta do is find a way to throw in “nah i didnt feel like binding today” or “ugh i have a boob itch” or “he/him please” or “will wore a tiny trans pride pin” etc. all you gotta do is mention that he is trans and he continues to be trans throughout the story. you dont gotta mention genitals or menstruation or even dysphoria at all. just throw the word trans in there somewhere and you done did it and im proud of you

anonymous asked:

Swifties are so naive thinking taylor didn't call the papz. Taylor has proved if she doesn't want to be seen, she won't be seen, unless she wants to. Can someone explain this to them? She called the papz, so much drama because everyone is reblogging the new candids. I'm so sick of them

They’re not bright. At all. They have their head so far up the ass of whatever image she creates in hopes she’ll given them a like or reblog or something that they haven’t seen the sunlight or breathed fresh air in a long time. It’s almost like a cult and while that’s great for sales I suspect Taylor is aware they won’t take it as well as she’d like when she shatters their false image of her and comes out.

anonymous asked:

OMG I loved your post break up au post about the emergency contact and was wondering if you're willing to write another?? My favorites were the can't sleep alone so can I sleep with you one more time, the drinking game to decide who gets what or the one where one rushed to the airport but didn't get there in time and the other found out later :)) thanks!!

(this took agES i’m sorry anon but yES AGREE CAN DO i’m gonna pick the sleeping one bcs c’mon that just screams andreil)
(additional warning: this is Long AF sorry mobile users)

  • neil doesn’t know where his life went wrong. 
  • scratch that, he does. when the cousins’ graduation came and went, when the summer left him alone. andrew off to train with his new team, the two of them only having weekends in columbia or andrew’s new place. when the season started back up for neil, the constant thrumming at the back of his head reminding him that this was the season that really counted, the one that could make or break him. 
  • when he decided, alone and thoughts running through his head at breakneck speed, that concentrating on his team, letting andrew focus on his career, would be the best for both of them
  • (”Is that what you want?” - “Yes.” - “If that’s the case.”)
  • so it’s not that much of a surprise when he finds himself on andrew’s doorstep at 2am, stolen hotel duvet in his arms, with a disgruntled andrew looking at him 

Keep reading

It all started with a simple nosebleed, my mother said that I’ve just been drinking too much soda. She’s always right, so I shrugged it off. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Something is wrong with me. You never think about death until it’s peeling the inside layers of your skin and you can feel the small flame called life fade into ashes left by a chain smoker who doesn’t know when to quit. I don’t do much, hell. I can barely keep my grades up. I don’t have much friends, maybe no one will miss me anyway. I woke up and looked into the mirror. Who is this person? I’ve lost so much weight. Mama says I haven’t been eating right. The doctor tells me a different story. A blank facial expression turned into a poem you’d only find on tumblr for sad kids who can’t get rid of feelings that stick like old gum under high school desks. Decades in and you’re still a mess. Living your early twenties like an old soul who has had enough of everything– I’ve still got a few sparks left in me. So I asked him for a poem and he answers. Every time, he answers. He says that when the sky is heavy and the rain is light– you can tilt the moon at a certain angle to see a glimpse of sunlight. He calls me reflected moonlight and he still writes me to sleep. I don’t answer anymore and I’m just trying to answer prayers, but does anyone listen anymore? When you’re gone, you’re just gone. The memories you leave behind will be your lasting legacy. I will bear no children. I will have no fame. I will have no flaws. I will die imperfectly perfect. My nose bleeds a little longer than usual and my body is brittle enough to make a teacup sound like titanium. I don’t know how much longer I have and maybe I’ll never be able to tell him thanks. I guess in more ways than one– he knows. Maybe he’ll stop writing about me some day. Maybe he’ll forget about me. Maybe I’ll forget about me some day.

“I never forgot about you.”

Treasure Hunt

Happy Birthday @chrissascorner​! I hope you have a wonderful day with family and friends. Love you sweetheart! :) Here’s a little thing I wrote for you.

Initial inspiration for this fic came from this article

Ao3  FF.net

Summary: While tracking a missing yacht, Emma Swan, PI is forced to work with a team she’d never imagine working with in the first place. 

Rated: T

(A huge thanks to my beta, @amagicalship)

Treasure Hunt

“Let me get this straight. You need me to track down a yacht belonging to the mayor of the town you are Sheriff for?” Emma reclined back in the chair, fingers drumming on the surface of the desk as she gave her old partner a smug smile.

David sighed. “I know exactly how this sounds, Emma. But there are reasons why she wants a P.I. handling this and not the local authorities.”

“You’re going to have to give me more than that, Nolan. And you know it.”

“Regina Mills is a powerful woman, but she has a weak spot. Her son Henry has been threatened. And as much as she trusts her former FBI agent now turned into local sheriff, aka me, she also knows the person we are dealing with has connections in all the agencies.”

“Who do you suspect took the yacht?”

Gold.” David paused, giving Emma a moment to digest the information. They both knew about Gold’s involvement in several underhanded activities in the NorthEast area and the possibility of bribed personnel in all the agencies. It was one of the many reasons why taking him down while working for the FBI had been impossible.

Emma cracked her neck, the tension of the busy day getting to her. “Why would he take her yacht?”

“He has history with her mother. And it’s a win-win situation for him. He can use it to conduct his dirty affairs and if it gets caught, it will splatter her reputation.”

“He’s the same sneaky bastard he always was, gotta give him credit for that.” Emma cocked an eyebrow. “So, what’s the plan? Me and Ruby track him down and retrieve the yacht?”

“No. You just track the yacht down. Someone else is in charge of the retrieve. This is a joint effort.” David shifted in his seat uncomfortably and Emma sat up straight in her chair.

“I don’t play well with others, David. You know that.” She raised an eyebrow knowingly at him. He should know by now that she didn’t trust easily.

“Emma, you can’t retrieve a yacht of this magnitude and Regina is not taking any chances with the authorities. She wants this to be fast and she’s willing to cut some corners - within reason - to get there.”

“Who’s going to do the extraction then?”

Jones Marine Risk Management and Vessel Extraction.” David cleared his throat.

“You’re hiring fucking modern pirates?!?”

Keep reading

On December 1, 1978, a female patient named Margaret Schilling disappeared from one of the wards in a mental hospital.

On January 12, 1979, they found her body in the abandoned top floor of ward N. 20. When a maintenance man discovered her body lying on the floor in front of a window, she had been dead for several weeks. 

The official cause of death was heart failure, probably due to her exposure to the December cold in an unheated section of the hospital.

She apparently locked herself in the ward as a game, hiding from hospital employees. Before she died she took off her clothes and folded them neatly nearby. 

Why didn’t she call for help? Part of the legend that has not been confirmed is that she was a deaf mute.

What is true is that her body left a stain. It was due to sunlight and cold temperature exposure.

Those who still worked in Athens Lunatic Asylum, say that they can still sense her presence. They see her walking around the halls sometimes. Some reported seeing random scrawls appear on the wall, one of which contained the message “I was never crazy.”

anonymous asked:

You do realize that the majority of the time you're actually making their skintones DARKER than they are in REAL LIFE, right? Colorism doesn't only go in one direction. Calling them unattractive or describing them as "gross" because they're pale is just as rude and discriminatory. Most of the members are NATURALLY EXTREMELY PALE and it isn't always a result of intentional photo altering. Jfc. Stop trying to fit them into your definition of beauty.

I knew I’d get a message like this sooner or later even before I created the blog, so I’ve prepared a mental reply that I’ll write out. And wow, this entire ask was a mess from the second sentence onward. I’ll make the answer to this nice and long so other idiots won’t ask me the same thing because this topic is something I won’t stay quiet nor be nice about.

WARNING: Super long post ahead. I’m really pissed.

Keep reading

Sentences [part 6]

Series: Soul Eater
Main pairing: Soma
Genre: Romance, humor
Setting: AU: Soul Mates
Rating: T
Type: Multi-Chapter.
Read on: FF.net., Ao3
Read other chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven

Synopsis: In which the first sentence your soul mate will speak to you appears tattooed on your skin once you turn 18, and Maka discovers that not every sentence is romantic. (based off of this post)

A/N: For SOMA week day two - Can’t Sleep


Maka’s room is dark, the fan above her the only sound she can hear as the chain for the light clinks against the bulb. She sighs to herself as she stares at her ceiling - or what she assumes is her ceiling, the darkness too think around her to see anything else.

She flips onto her side and digs under her pillow for a minute, pulling out her phone and turning it on. She squints through the sudden flood of light, eventually dimming it down and finding the time.

2:07 A.M.

She groans, dropping her phone and flipping onto her stomach, stuffing her face into her pillow. She needs to sleep. She has an early shift at the diner tomorrow (or today?) and needs to be up by 8.

Yet here she is, still awake, nowhere close to sleep.

She groans again, kicking her legs a bit under her covers to emphasise her frustration.

She pulls herself up into a sitting position, eyes squinting through the darkness at the crack beneath her door. There’s a light still on. Maybe that means Soul’s still awake.

Maka nods to herself, sliding off of her bed and into her fuzzy slippers, shuffling across her room and opening the door just enough to see through the crack. She can hear a laugh track playing in the living room, the lights from the television flickering like a fire in the darkness. She opens the door completely, tiptoeing through the hallway and poking her head around the corner of the wall separating the hall from the living room.

Soul sits on the couch, one arm thrown over the back cushion, feet on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes are half-closed, but he laughs at the show he has on - some sitcom from the 80’s that Maka hasn’t seen in years. She debates turning around and sneaking back to her room, but he notices her presence before she can.

“Maka?”

Keep reading

When I dream, I dream of him. For several nights now he’s come to me, waving from a distant shore as if he’s been waiting patiently for me to arrive. He doesn’t utter a word, but his smile says everything. How are you? I’ve missed you. Yes, all is well. Don’t worry. Where he stands, the trees are in full bloom, brilliant with flowers of every color imaginable. Parts of the ground are still scorched and rocky. There are hard, bald patches where nothing may ever grow again. It is hard to tell. But in other spots, tiny green shoots struggle their way up. Rich black dirt smooths over the surface of things. The earth heals itself.
Kartik takes a stick and digs in the soft, new soil. He’s making something but I cannot tell what it is yet. The clouds shift. Shafts of sunlight peek through, and now I can see what he has drawn. It is a symbol: two hands interlocked, surrounded by a perfect, unbroken circle. Love. The day is breaking free. It bathes everything in a fierce light. Kartik is fading from view.
No, I call. Come back. I’m here, he says.
But I can’t see. It’s too bright.
You can’t hold back the light, Gemma. I’m here. Trust me.
The water washes over the riverbank, erasing the edges till there’s nothing. But I saw it. I know it’s there. And when I wake, the room is white with the morning sun. The light is so bright it hurts my eyes. But I don’t dare close them. I won’t. Instead, I try to adjust to the dawn, letting the tears fall where they may, because it is morning; it is morning, and there is so much to see.
— 

The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray

*cries*

2

So here’s a little thing that I like to call curse water.
What you need:
Purple, or any dark flowers.
Rubbing alcohol (or vodka)
Water
Something to put it in
I used ¼ rubbing alcohol and ¾ water. And left it to sit in indirect sunlight for a couple of nights.
My original intention was to make perfume, but it turned into a pungent black liquid.
You can use it to replace a black candle,
Add it to curse boxes,
Sprinkle it in someones drink who you hate (only do this if you made it out of vodka rubbing alcohol is poisonous)
And it has so many other uses!

anonymous asked:

Continue with The Red Silk Story pleaseeeee

Hi there sweetheart! I am so sorry this story is taking soooooooooo long. But I started College and it has been hard to get on track with writing. I promise I try to work on it as much as I can. 
Thank you so much for your support, and here is a little sneak peek of 
      “Red Ire”



RED IRE

The front door clicked shut behind her. 
Absolute decimation. 
Downright desecration. 

God be good. 

God be good and have mercy.

It was like Hurricane Catrina had been unleashed inside of the  Mansion. 

Anger, confusion and pain had taken a physical form and had destroyed the place you called home. 

The chandelier was on the ground, crystals glowing in the sunlight dancing with the broken shards of the window that littered the ground…
Broken windows, broken doors, wrecked furniture, clots of soil from the potted plants, pebbles from the Feng Shui ornaments dispersed all around, hand rail broken, black charred walls, the evidence of fire, holes in the walls, gun magazines, bullet casings, empty guns, bloody knives, blood spatters all over the place…

Splintered wood, torn leather, smoke, blood, death, pain.

“Y/N?! Y/N?!Is that you?!” the voice asked coming hurriedly down the stairwell. 
You turned your face towards the source of the voice.

Only for it to be forcibly turned back into a different direction. 

She had slapped you. 

She had raised her hand at you.

Your mother had slapped you.

@jokers-sweethearts @speedypan

Wandering Hearts (1/?)

Fandom: Frozen AU. Set after the shipwreck, but before coronation day.
Pairing: Kristanna (Kristoff/Anna)
Rating/Warnings: M for adult content (rape, sex, feeeeellliiiiings, opposite of frohana, you have been waaaaaarned).
A/N: This all stems from the idea that Anna confronts Elsa about the castle being closed all of the time a year before coronation day. It goes down very much like the conversation in the ballroom, just with less Hans, and Anna actually leaving. What would this story be like if Anna’s main objective was to get away from her sister instead of be with her sister? I’ve been having a few crap days (or weeks actually [ or life? ]) so I am processing it through fanfiction. Take it or leave it.

Workshopping this to see if it is worth continuing/expanding after I finish Inevitable

(oops i wrote a bunch more)

[ part one ] [ part two ] [ part three ] [ part four ] [ part five ] [ part six ] [ part seven ] [ part eight ]

“Elsa, please, I can’t live like this anymore!”

“Then leave.”

She does.

…..

Keep reading

In My Dreams

Alright @xhookswenchx, it’s finally done! I’m your Secret Santa! It was so great getting to know you, Cee and I’m so happy I’ve made a new friend! Thank you for being patient and I’m sorry that this is late! I hope you like it I tried to put in different things you told me you like so I hope you enjoy it! This is actually the longest thing I’ve written! :P Happy Holidays and talk to you later! xx :D

I recommend you listen to “In My Dreams” by Ruth B. It’s what the fic is based on and it’s a really good song! :)

ff.net link here

AO3 link here

The lights are bright tonight, the music loud
A perfect mess that’s what surrounds me

Another night, another skip.

Emma sighs as she places her glass of rum on the bar top. This was her life. She would come to a club to lure the next perp, watch people dance closely against each other and go home to an empty bed and an empty house. 

She wishes she wasn’t so lonely.

She turns around in her seat and spots her latest target and is about to introduce herself when she notices someone staring at her. 

Then I see you over there, I can’t seem to break the stare

Across the dance floor she she sees a man. A very handsome man, she can’t deny it. He has raven black hair, which seems like he’s tried to comb but was unsuccessful, a part of it falling across his forehead and she has the urge to brush it back for him. There’s a stubble on his cheeks that has a hint of red. He’s wearing tight jeans, that don’t hide anything, and a black leather jacket. 

For some reason she just can’t look away. And by the looks of it neither can he. They’ve both been staring at each other for far longer than they should, yet neither can gaze away. She suddenly feels warm and a familiar feeling she thought she’d never feel again rushes through her. 

A feeling she hasn’t felt since she met Neal. 

Maybe it’s ‘cause your shirt is my favorite color
Then you walk on over with a smolder
And you hand me your number, I say, “What is this?”
You say, “Love at first sight, it exists”

He starts making his way through the crowd of dancers toward her, weaving his way through without breaking eye contact the whole time. He comes sauntering over with a smolder on his face, and once he’s standing in front of her she notices the shirt he’s wearing is a deep blue that displays a large amount of chest hair and make his eyes shine brighter.

When she looks into his blue eyes they remind her of the color of the water, something that’s always calmed her. She’s getting lost in his smirk and his too blue eyes, when he finally breaks eye contact. 

She looks down to see he’s holding out a napkin with what looks like his number scrolled on it quickly, but clearly. 

Once they broke eye contact, the spell broke as well. She looks at him confusedly and raises an eyebrow at his confidence.

“What is this?” she asks even though she can clearly see a phone number.

The answer he gives her is not one she was expecting.

“Love at first sight, it exists,” he replies in a soft voice, looking deeply in her eyes. The smirk disappeared and she can only see sincerity.

And he has an accent. 

A sexy accent

Damn. 

She rolls her eyes at his brashness and his cheesy pick up lines. He can probably see her urge to protest written all over her face so before she can even answer he once again pastes on that smolder of his and walks away, leaving her speechless. 

But I’ve had my heart broken so many times before
Yeah, I’ve walked through so many empty doors

For a small moment, Emma considers it. Considers calling the handsome blue-eyed stranger. Emma huffs angrily to herself, how could she let him get to her? She just met him, she doesn’t know him. Yet the connection she felt when they both looked at each other was something she couldn’t ignore.

Well, she was going to have to ignore it. She couldn’t let herself get hurt again. She learned the hard way after what Neal did to her that she can only rely on herself. She learned the hard way that no one cares about her. No one. Not Neal, not the Swans, and none of the countless other families she was shuffled between throughout her childhood. A blue-eyed stranger with a cocky attitude and flirty nature wasn’t going to care about her either. 

I start to drive away and smile like I’m insane
How can I feel this way? I don’t even know your name
The napkin doesn’t say
Then I remember that I vowed not to let anyone enter my heart
I say “What is this?”
I know love at first sight can’t exist

Still, Emma was wrestling with herself as she got into her car. There was just something about his eyes that she couldn’t forget. It was crazy because she’d met him for less than a minute. She didn’t even know his name, he hadn’t written it on the napkin that she read against the voice in the back of her head telling her not to. Yet the way he was looking at her made her feel special. 

She smiles, remembering the warmth and sincerity she could read in his eyes, despite the cockiness. 

She smiles, remembering the sparks tingling on her skin as their hands briefly brushed as he handed over his number.

She smiles, remembering the flicker of hope she saw in his eyes before he once again pasted on the egotistical persona and turned away.

A car honking behind her snaps Emma out of her thoughts. She quickly presses her foot down on the gas pedal and continues on her way home, reprimanding herself for getting caught up in “feelings” for the mysterious stranger. 

She wasn’t going to call him. She couldn’t. Love at first sight didn’t exist, it was just the stuff of fairy tales. And even if it did, it wasn’t for people like her. 

An orphan, somebody easy to leave behind, somebody who wasn’t worth staying for.

Lonely.

Emma blinks back the tears that have formed in her eyes as she parks her car. She curses him for doing this to her. She just needs to sleep, she’ll be fine in the morning. The last thing she sees in her mind before sleep takes her is that familiar smolder on his handsome face. 


But if I see you in my dreams tonight
Then maybe you were right
And I’ll call you in the morning

There’s a young blonde haired girl running through the grand halls of a castle, a young black haired boy chasing after her. Their laughs echo off the walls of the brightly lit area from the sunlight coming in from the window.

“Got you!” the boy yells triumphantly, arms around the young girl.

He lets go of her quickly though before she can hurt him, knowing she hates to lose. After a moment his estimation is right as she huffs angrily.

“You always catch me! But one day, I’ll be faster than you!” she says annoyed. 

He just laughs at her. “Maybe you will one day, princess.”

She rolls her eyes, “I told you not to call me that. You’re my best friend, you can call me by my name.” 

The boy sighs, knowing he has no choice against his stubborn friend. 

“As you wish, Emma.”

Emma wakes with a start. That young girl in the dream was her. A princess. She didn’t know who the young boy was, but his eyes looked so familiar, like the set of eyes of someone she’d rather forget.

She doesn’t want to forget him.

Emma throws herself back on her pillow, frustrated. She’s driving herself crazy. That was just a dream, the fairy tale nonsense must be getting into her subconscious. Yet, it didn’t feel like a dream it felt like a memory. 

Maybe she should call him.

The loud sound of her alarm going off breaks her out of thoughts of her dream and wanting to call him and she shakes her head at how stupid she is.

Not real, Emma, she reminds herself. 

Emma gets out of bed to start a new day, which is probably going to go the same way it always does. 


Maybe we’ll meet in a different dimension
And you can tell me all the things you didn’t mention

She’s sitting on a bench at the gardens of the castle, holding her best friend in her arms. 

She feels helpless, she doesn’t know what to do. They’ve just been informed that his older brother died, defending their kingdom from the soldiers the Evil Queen was sending their way. 

Emma’s heart broke for him. His brother was a father figure to him since their father left when they were children and he was everything to him.

“Shh,” she tried to soothe him. She didn’t tell him it’s going to be ok because it wasn’t. He wasn’t going to see his brother again. She continued to rock him gently, never letting go. 

They didn’t know how long they were sitting there, but he took comfort in Emma’s arms. She was now all he had left. 

The dream shifts, the two of them standing at the palace gates. Emma was all he had left now, but he wasn’t worthy of her. Not with what he was going to become.

“I’m not the same person anymore, Emma.”

“I know, but let me help you get through this. Please.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry.”

He walks away, but it wasn’t easy to deter Princess Emma. She’d given him a few days to cool down, before she went in search of him. Thankfully, he was still in their kingdom and she’d had her guards keep tabs on him. 

Emma had snuck out of the castle, dressed in simple trousers, blouse, and a cloak with a hood to cover her face in case anyone recognized her. 

She made her way to the tavern she knew Killian would be at. She enters to the loud ruckus of people, spotting him at a table. He looked different. Really different. 

He was dressed in black from head to toe: black shirt, black vest, black leather pants, and a large black leather coat. His eyes were rimmed with kohl, his hands decorated with rings, and an earring in his right ear.

Emma stopped in her tracks for a moment, taking in his new look. He looked the complete opposite of the innocent lieutenant she’d grown up with, yet he was no less handsome.

“Snap out of it Emma, now isn’t the time,” she told herself. 

She walks up to his table and ignores the jealousy she feels at the sight of the two girls seated on either side of him. She knew this wasn’t him and she hoped that she’d read through him correctly and that he shares her feelings. He’s drinking rum and his laugh is forced, but when he catches sight of her the fake laughs stops and he puts his flask down. When it seems like he was just going to sit there and gawk at her, she finally spoke. 

“Get up,” she says in a stern voice. 

Anyone else and he would have scolded them, especially since he’s been trying to gain a reputation as a new pirate. But he couldn’t say no to her, so he does as he’s told and moves past her out the front door. 

Once they’re outside and have some privacy, he finally speaks. 

“If you’ve come here to change my mind, think again. This is who I am now, a pirate,” he says. 

Emma doesn’t say anything for a few moments, her beautiful green eyes flickering across his face. 

“I know. That’s why I didn’t come here to change your mind,” she finally replies.

He cocks an eyebrow, “you’re not?”

She shakes her head. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, hoping to hold onto the courage she had when she came. She steps closer to him, invading his space and clasps both of his hands in her smaller ones. She’s still looking down but as she makes up her mind, she looks directly into his eyes.

“I love you,” she tells him with no hesitance in her voice. His eyes widen and his grip on her hands tightens.

“I love you,” she repeats again, “and it doesn’t matter to me who you want to be: the lieutenant, the pirate, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Because deep down no matter what role you take, I know the real you, and that’s the boy who is my best friend, who is still there even under all the hurt,” she tells him in a soft voice. 

“I’m not good enough for you, not like this.” he tells her self-deprecatingly. 

“I can’t lose you,” she says desperately. “I won’t.” 

He looks deep into her eyes, seeing the longing and love there. Such a stubborn lass. 

“I love you too, Emma. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you.”

She smiles at him, caressing his cheek. 

“Don’t leave me,” she says.

“Never.” 

Emma gasps and wakes from yet another dream. This time though she’s freaking out, really freaking out. She’s been having dreams everyday since she met the mysterious stranger last week, but this was the first dream where he was clearly there. Her previous dreams consisted of them growing up and the boy seemed to resemble the man she met, but she wasn’t sure. But this time it was not a younger version that looked like him. It was him! 

The love she saw in his eyes in her dream, the feelings of love somehow now coursing through her.

She couldn’t take it anymore. 

She had to call him. 

She was probably losing her mind, they were just dreams but she couldn’t stop the message her heart was trying to send to her.

To just take a chance this time. 

Cause I saw you in my dreams that night
And I knew that you were right
So I called you in the morning
(In the morning, in the morning)
Yeah I saw you in my dreams that night

She glanced over to see the red numbers on her clock reading it was 2 AM, but she needed to call him before she lost the nerve. Without thinking any longer she picks up the napkin that’s been sitting on her nightstand for a week and dials his number.

She really hopes he’ll answer.

Emma nervously chews on her bottom lip, the longer it takes, the more nervous she becomes. 

”Obiously he’s not going to answer, he’s sleeping. It’s the middle of the night,” she reprimands herself. She’s so stupid. 

Just as she’s lost hope he might answer, a gruff voice finally answers. 

“Hello,” he answers tiredly.

It’s him. His voice is laced with sleep but she’d recongnize his accent at any time. She can’t seem to speak, her voice caught in her throat.

“Bloody hell it’s the middle of the night and you called to stay quiet. Hello?” he says angrily. 

Emma feels guilty for waking him up. What was she thinking? Before he can hang up she quickly replies, “Um, i-it’s me. The one you gave your number to at the club last week?” her answer coming out as more of a question due to her nervousness.

The man’s voice abruptly changes from fed up to relieved. His tone is now soft, kinder. 

“I’ve been hoping you would call, lass.” 


And you took my hands and told me
“I’ve been waiting for you”
And I told you, “Me too”

It turns out he lives very close to her and they agree to meet at a coffee shop near them. He arrives before her, sitting at a table and his eyes continuously flick to the front door. Once he spots her he stands up. He has a bright smile on his face and a light in his eyes. Once she comes closer he takes her hand and kisses the back of it. She’s once again overcome with the warm feelings he elicits and she once again feels a spark from the mark of his lips. 

“Killian Jones, at your service milady.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles at his old fashioned language. Such a charmer. 

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

They spend the day at the coffee shop together, speaking endlesly about everything and nothing. 

Once it’s late and the shop is ready to close, they’re forced to finally leave and part ways. 

“I’m so happy you called, Swan. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Emma gazes into his eyes, seeing his sincerity. She smiles at him softly, “me too.”

Slowly, he steps closer and brings his hand to cradle her cheek. He’s looking at her, asking her for permission. He must see the openness she’s trying to show because in the next moment, he brings his lips to hers. 

It’s not rushed, it’s soft and tentative at first. Emma feels like she’s flying and is filled with so much emotion she feels like she’ll drown in the feelings she has for this man. Suddenly, a different warmth flows through her. A stronger one. She breaks the kiss and lets out a gasp and pulls away, closing her eyes at the onslaught of memories flashing through her mind. 

Sitting on her father’s lap on her bed as her mother sits next to them reading her a bedtime story.

The first day she meets a young, raven haired boy who becomes her best friend. 

The days and months following their confessions of love to each other, secretly meeting in the tavern every night.

Emma continuously seeing Killian, even if he turned into a pirate. He was still her best friend and the man she loved. He may put on an act in front of everyone else, but he was still the Killian she knew with her. She wasn’t going to let him go.

The day they decided to tell her parents she was still seeing him and they were in love. 

The day they were all gathered in the throne room, when Regina showed up and sent she and Killian through a portal, to a land with no happy endings. The last thing she saw was the distraught and fearful expressions on her parent’s faces. 

Emma looks up to Killian with wide eyes and she can see the shock on his face as well.

“Emma,” he says reverently.

“Killian,” she says with tears in her eyes. She throws herself into his arms and he easily catches her, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in.  

Before either of them can say anything else a portal suddenly opens and they find themselves sucked through it. They hold onto each other tightly, not wanting to lose each other again. 

They hit a stone cold floor roughly and she hears two gasps of surpise. She looks up to find her parents, rushing at them from their thrones. 

“Emma!” her mother exclaims happily, pulling her daughter into her embrace. Emma hugs her mother back tightly, when she feels her father gather them close and cup the back of her head the way he always does when he hugs her. She holds onto her parents for a long time, happy that all those memories of her being an orphan were just fake. She has parents who love her. She didn’t grow up alone. 

She learns they were gone for three weeks, thankfully not too long. In their absence her parents finally found a way to defeat the Evil Queen once and for all. Even through all the heartache she put her mother through, Snow White’s heart was kind and she couldn’t kill her. They were able to find a way to strip her of her powers forever. They exiled her from the kingdom and hoped to never hear from her again. Before she left they tried to get her to tell them how they could get Emma back, but she refused to tell them and they’ve been searching for ways to find Emma since they lost her.

Regina’s curse was a good one. She punished Snow and Charming by taking away their daughter. She punished Emma for making her believe no one loved her. She thought she was an orphan and that a person named Neal had betrayed her. But none of it was true. She punished Emma by separating her from her true love. What the Evil Queen didn’t count on however was the power of true love and no matter how hard she tried to separate Emma and Killian, they still found each other in the strange realm. 

“I dreamed about you,” Emma tells him. 

They are lying on their sides facing each other on her bed. 

“As did I,” he whispers. He brings their entwined hands up and kisses hers. She closes her eyes at his gentle touch. 

“I thought they were dreams, but they were memories. Memories of us,” she says as she runs her fingers through his hair, pushing back the pieces falling on his forehead the way she wanted to when she met him at the club.

“Aye. I had the same ones.” 

“No matter what, we’ll always find each other. Right, Killian?”

“Aye, my love,” he says, placing a loving kiss on her forehead. “Always.”

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, taking comfort of finally being together again.


Yeah I saw you in my dreams that night
If I see you in my dreams tonight

Killian dreams that night of a blonde, curly haired boy with blue eyes and a dark haired, green-eyed girl on a ship with he and Emma. 

“Papa, up!” the young girl commands, holding her arms out to her father. 

When Killian wakes up to blonde hair tickling his nose, the solid weight of Emma in his arms, and his dream still swarming in his mind, he knows he has a very important question to ask King David today. 

copy that

Pairing: Stiles/Derek

A little drabble I wrote at work.
Fun fact: I have taken every one of these calls myself.


As summer jobs go, it’s better than waiting tables. Stiles knows the lingo, he’s done the course, and he is good to go. Okay, so he’s freaking out just a tiny bit as well, and he brought three pens in case two of them stop working, but he’s got this, okay? He’s got this. Besides, this is Beacon Hills, not L.A. What’s the worst thing that can—

And Stiles nips that question in the bud before he can get it out, even in his head. He’s not going to tempt fate by finishing it.

He sits down at his desk, plugs his headset in, and stares expectantly at the phone and the radio console.

And nothing happens.

Nothing continues to happen, stubbornly, for twelve whole minutes. And then the phone rings. Stiles hits the answer button, his heart pounding. This is it. His first 911 call. He opens his mouth to speak, and finds the caller is already yelling at him.

“—and it’s been thirty-six minutes and it’s not here yet!”

“Wait, what?” Stiles squints at the screen, waiting for the map to update. “What isn’t there yet?”

“My fucking pizza!”

For a second Stiles is stunned into silence, but only for a second. Then he remembers that this fucking brain surgeon is tying up an emergency line. “Oh my god! Are you kidding me, dude? You can’t call 911 over a pizza!”

“I’m a taxpayer!” the guy yells back.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” Stiles ends the call and slumps back in his chair, glaring at the screen.

Oh. Okay. So that wasn’t really in the training. In fact, Stiles is pretty certain he’s not allowed to hang up on anyone, even if they are total douchenozzles. But hey, this is a learning curve, okay?

Stiles quietly panics that calling the guy an idiot is going to send him into a rage-fuelled killing spree for revenge, and that it will all be Stiles’s fault. He really doesn’t want to kill anyone on his first night.

He’s still having a slight meltdown about it when he gets a call from one of the deputies on road to run a name check for him.

Okay, now that’s a lot less problematic. Stiles has been running name checks through the police database since he was fourteen. But, of course, the less said about that the better. It’s weird to do it with his own user ID and password and not his dad’s.

After that, Stiles falls into a routine. He’s got this. This is going well. Okay, there are only four deputies working, and only three actual jobs in the entire system, but that’s quite enough to handle right now, thanks very much. Carol, the dispatcher who looked after him for his brief mentoring period, could run multiple major incidents on a busy Friday night in her sleep, but Stiles suspects she’s not quite human.

He wants to grow up and be just like her.

***

At midnight, Parrish comes in to see if he wants a bathroom break. It’s only when he’s standing up that Stiles realizes how much tension he’s been holding in his body while he’s been sitting for the past few hours.

He heads to the bathroom, makes a coffee on the way back, and slides back into his seat to find out he’s missed exactly nothing.

“So how’s it all going in here?” Jordan asks him.

“Um, good?” Stiles tries to make it sound less like a question. But pizza guy hasn’t called back and he hasn’t gone on a rampage either, so Stiles is taking that as a win.

Yes, he’s winning at this.

***

Keep reading

“Imagine falling in love with one of Dis’ sons (Fili) and being best friends with the other.”

http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/107837376308/imagine-falling-in-love-with-one-of-dis-sons-and

Notes: Pre Hobbit book/films (or post, if you wanna talk AU). Also, Fili gave me trouble while writing this. I texted a friend about the issue, and she told me I should post what I said here, so I will: “Curse you, gorgeous golden lion dwarf man prince!"  Posted, as always, after one sitting, in the middle of the night, unbeta-ed.  Fluff with steam.

Kili would probably kill you for saying so, but he was undeniably, one-hundred percent snuggle material. A puppy dog. Cuteness personified, no matter how fierce he tries to appear.

Oh, he has his moments. You are not ignorant of your friend’s finer features. You just can’t get over the fact that Kili is the embodiment of his position as ‘little brother.’ Not just to Fili, but to almost every dwarf you’ve had the pleasure of seeing him interact with.

And as his best friend, you did enjoy teasing him about it.

Keep reading

is there sunlight on your bed // hunter x hunter

“Leorio?”

A hard swallow. “Yeah?” 

For a few moments, Leorio thinks his call has been dropped what with how utterly soundless everything becomes on the other end; but then he hears the softness of the water moving around Kurapika’s body and their careful, quiet breathing, and then: “Keep your phone near you tonight.”

Leorio stops at a crosswalk. He watches the blinking red hand on the sign opposite of the street. His heartbeat seems to pound in time with it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I can definitely do that.”

Word count: 2,000~
Rating: M
Summary: A Leopika miniseries told entirely through phone calls and text messages over the course of 24 hours. [Set directly after Phantom Rouge.]

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"Take a picture, it’ll last longer." Katniss annoyed with Peeta

“What the fuck is a re-commitment ceremony anyway?” Katniss yells out from behind the closed dressing room door. “I mean you already had a wedding, you’re already married!”

Peeta shifts uncomfortable in the over-sized arm chair that sits in the small viewing area right outside the dressing room of the fancy boutique that his best friend, Katniss, dragged him too.

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Unknown

I wish to seek
Some place unknown
To my mind
My heart
And soul
Somewhere that has a sky
That’s a different shade of blue
From the one I see
At my current view
I wish to find some emerald grass
Greener than what I’ve ever seen
To simply lie in
The wildflowers in the wind they lean
I wish to know a land
Where my spirit
Can be at peace
Where I breathe in
And out
In
And
Out
And see everything before me
Where the sunlight enters my skin
And fills me to my core
As the beams shoot out
From every pore
I wish to find this place
I seek and search
Some unknown refuge
From this place I call my home
But my heart
I’m afraid
Was lost somewhere along the way
I left it somewhere I can’t recall
But I search and search
In familiar places
I seek the unknown
I seek somewhere knew
That voice in my head
It speaks anew
But maybe
Dear girl
What you’ve been seeking
Anew
All this time
Has been staring
Right back at you.

Original Work: KH 10/24/14

Young love, you were still mine the other day.
Darkness has settled; the moon has licked
Dry the last remaining sunlight
You say it reminds you so much of my eyes
When I kneeled for you.


Resurrection came too fast; left you unprepared
For the antlers that decorated my woodland hair
You say, crowns can only be made of gold and jewels
So we chop, chop, chopped our way to my scalp
Is it not love’s vice to poison a blood stream?

Young love, we talk in day dreams now.

Nights when my rage tastes of you
I fall asleep on a nest of virgin papers
The water calls me home but I turn my face
To a time you kept the hearth burning

Now the stars are targets to the archer in me and
Tonight, I swear to you,
I will cause the constellations to rain down,
because if pain were to reside in me

Let it be of the gods’ and goddesses’,
Let it be the suffering of monsters and heroes


Tonight, I am bringing apocalypse to the sky
Tonight, I am letting the sun in.

—  YOUNG LOVE & OTHER ILLUSIONS // Camillea
Providing

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: G, Word Count: 795
Fluff, Established Relationship, POV Stiles

Read on AO3

For @sterekwriters​ Summer Bingo prompt: Fishing

Stiles doesn’t know what he’s doing here. For one, he’s pretty sure he’s violating some kind of protocol by being present during bonding time between father-in-law and son-in-law. Also, it’s 5am, and both Derek and his dad know he doesn’t function at 5am.

They’re sitting by some lake—well, more an oversized pond—Stiles can’t remember the name of. Derek and his dad are talking about fishing lures and bait and lines, and about the differences between fishing in a lake—or oversized pond—and a river. Stiles is sure it’s all very fascinating, but he doesn’t really care. All he cares about is that he’s sitting between Derek’s legs, his back very comfortably leaning against Derek’s chest, one of Derek’s arms is securely wrapped around his waist and his cheek lying against the soft fabric of Derek’s sweater. Yes, he would’ve preferred to be in bed, but this is the next best thing. He sighs and wriggles a little closer to Derek, who presses a kiss on top of his head.

Stiles thinks he hears his dad mutter something about how disgustingly in love and adorable they are, but that could just the haze of sleep distorting sounds. His dad has never used the word “adorable” to describe him.

Derek and his dad keep talking. The murmur of their voices mingles with the lapping of the water of the oversized pond against the shore, and Stiles finds himself drifting further and further off. He can’t fall asleep, though. Nope. Derek has to fish, has to throw that line in the water and provide his fiancé with breakfast. Which means that Stiles will have to move in the near future. He can’t fall asl—

~

Smoke tickles his nose, filling it with the smell of roasted food. And coffee, he can smell coffee. Nice, strong, bitter, warm, magical coffee. Preferably with one sugar and just a dash of milk.

Stiles blinks his eyes open. The sun’s a lot higher than he remembers it being a minute ago. Did he sleep? No, he can’t have. He’s still in the same position, resting against Derek’s chest, though Derek’s arm is no longer around his waist. He turns his head to find the source of the smoke and delicious scents and finds two fish and couple pieces of bread roasting on the small grill they brought with them.

Okay, he definitely slept.

‘Good morning,’ Derek murmurs, pressing a kiss against Stiles’ cheek.

‘Morning. Time’s it?’

Stiles yawns, then sits up to stretch. He squints at the sun shining almost directly into his eyes, and before he can ask for his sunglasses, Derek is already gently setting them onto his face.

‘Almost 7,’ Derek answers.

‘Did you catch those?’ Stiles asks, pointing at the fish.

‘No. I was playing pillow for someone who couldn’t stay awake for more than two minutes. But I did pour the coffee,’ Derek says.

Stiles wraps his hands around the mug Derek is holding in front of him, takes a sip and hums. It’s perfect.

‘Sorry I made you miss out on the fishing,’ Stiles says, taking another sip.

‘I didn’t say I minded.’

Stiles smiles and leans back again. He sips his coffee while he looks out over the oversized pond. The sunlight breaks on the water, making it sparkle and creating miniature rainbows that disappear as quickly as they appear. Even with smell of the roasted fish, Stiles can smell the freshness of a new summer day in the air.

‘You two done being adorable,’ his dad says, breaking the momentary peace. ‘Food’s done.’

‘Did you just call us adorable?’ Stiles asks. He has to be sure, because it means that his dad probably used it earlier, too. That’s twice in one day.

‘Yes. The two of you not lovingly bickering with each other is disturbing, and making me delirious,’ his dad says, but he’s smiling. He holds out a plates with bread and fish for both Derek and Stiles. ‘Eat your food.’

Stiles untangles himself from Derek and sits down between his dad and his fiancé.

‘We should do this more often,’ he says stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth.

‘Next time you’re gonna fish, because you need to earn your keep, son.’

‘Hey! I was the mascot! I think I earned my keep just fine.’ Stiles points at the fish filled plates. ‘Derek’s the one who didn’t do anything.’

‘And whose fault is that,’ Derek throws back.

‘You said you didn’t mind.’

‘I didn’t, but I’m starting to.’

‘And all is right with the world again,’ his dad mutters.

Stiles glares at his dad. He considers throwing a piece of fish at him, but decides to angrily stuff it into his mouth instead. It’s far too delicious to waste.