yarn corner

Okay but like– I know Mismagius has the hat, but it’s all magic and pink. I think Absol’s a better pick for a Cole tribute. Hear me out–

  • Dark type, horribly misunderstood and feared by humans.
  • Attacks with slashing attacks that often crit and KO stuff in one hit.
  • Battlecry is the most unexpectedly gentle sound ever.
  • Shy. Afraid of people but still approaches to warn them of danger.
  • Also Mega Absol has motherfucking angel wings and Cole is an angel so.
Open Heart, Open Wound

(aka: the dreaded #corner)

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Canon divergence where Emma goes back for Killian instead of leaving him at the top of the beanstalk.  Based on @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable​ ‘s prompt which frankly I don’t even remember exactly what it was at this point but considering the source this will not be kittens and rainbows…   This does have one of my apparently famous blended timelines going on so we’ve italicized one of the timelines for clarity.   

Cowritten by @lynyrdwrites​ and @gusenitsaa​ and guest starring nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable​ for added heartbreak.

We apologize in advance … Or I do anyway. Nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable and Lynyrdwrites probably just laugh at your pain.


“You appear to have wandered away from your Princess, Captain.”

          Hook froze at the comment, spoken in a voice that some might have called matronly, but that to him, hinted only at death.  Anyone who spent any significant length of time with Cora quickly learned that any maternal instinct she might have once claimed had been destroyed years ago.  For a moment, he considered playing the turncoat.  But all it took was one look at the witch to know that she wouldn’t be fooled by such an act.

          “I doubt Emma would appreciate hearing the title,” he said instead, “She’s not exactly the royal type.”

          “You’ve come to admire her,” Cora replied, an almost idle sounding observation.  Except Cora’s comments were never idle.  The woman’s every breath was calculated, and Hook could already see her working out the best way to use this new bit of information.  It would do him no good to deny it.  She’d known him for too long. He tried regardless.  

          “I admire many,” he responded lightly.  “Luckily for me, admiration and loyalty are two very different beasts.”

          “Oh, I do wish I could believe you, Captain” – Cora’s smile gave the lie to her words; she didn’t wish that at all, probably even preferred whatever was about to come next – “I enjoyed your company.  You were charming, up to a point. However, when you chose to allow Emma Swan to keep that compass rather than bring it to me… well, you lost much of your appeal.”

          It wasn’t truly surprising, Hook supposed, when she thrust her hand into his chest.  It was still, however, painful. When she pulled the hand back out and squeezed the heart in her palm Hook went down to a knee, his hand clutching at his chest.

          “How interesting,” Cora murmured, her avid gaze inspecting his heart.  It took him a moment to realize what had so enthralled her, and when he did, it made his throat feel tight.  “Perhaps it’s more than mere admiration?”

          Hook had always suspected his heart would be black.  Centuries spent chasing vengeance and doing the dirty deeds of a demon-child?  It had been a price he’d had been willing to pay, so long as he skinned his crocodile in the end.  The heart in Cora’s hands?  Yes, there were shadows chasing across its surface, but they were complemented by a vibrant shining red.  Hook met the witch’s gaze over the still beating mass of his heart, and a smile curved her lips that made shivers race down his spine.

          “Don’t worry, Captain.  I’ll make sure you remember everything that comes next.”


He didn’t stop screaming her name, as though he knew how she leaned against the wall,  just beyond his line of sight, her head dropped back against the cold stone.  She tried to leave, tried to force her feet to move but each time another cry of “Swan” echoed from the cavernous room and stopped her short.

Have I told you a lie?

Finally his screams stopped and for a moment Emma wondered if Anton had kept his word not to kill the pirate.  Her stomach tightened into a knot but she shook her head.  Anton wouldn’t do that.  She had his word. His word,  that was far more trustworthy than a pirate’s… probably.

And she was wasting her head start.  

She made it all the way to the top of the beanstalk, and had started to make her way down when there was a tug at her hand,  a scarf that wasn’t hers caught on one of the thorns.  She let out a huff, marveling at how the man could be so irritating when he wasn’t even here. But the scarf was a reminder… of him, of the look in his eyes as he’d laughed and told her they made a good team.  The look in his eyes as she left him behind, chained against his will, betrayal and anger and shock…

Her stomach fell, because hadn’t she been in his shoes before?  Hadn’t she been the one, abandoned and locked up and left floundering, wondering what to do next?

Try something new, darling…

She pulled herself back up to the top, mentally calling herself a hundred different kinds of fool.  But guilt drove her, and her instincts screamed at her to trust him, so she ignored the scared teenager that she had never quite stopped being - the one that remembered all too well what had happened the last time she had trusted a smooth talking boy. Because she was in the land of fairytales now.  Perhaps… in the land of fairytales, you do as fairytales did… you take a leap of faith?

She snuck back into the cavern without him noticing and he was pacing back and forth cursing himself for being bested by a pretty face.  He tugged at the chain uselessly and for a moment she was back in that hospital, her own wrists tied to a bed. She slipped out from behind the rock into his view and his arm went limp.  He didn’t scream,  didn’t say her name,  just watched her for a long moment.  

“Change your mind about letting me live, Swan?” he finally asked.

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Cat Tendencies

A/N: Marichat May has started! At least from where I am now. Because currently, it’s almost 1am and I’m just going to post this before I go to sleep since I may not have the time later. The rating will change as days pass, since there IS a SIN DAY later and I’m just gonna follow the rules ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

And this is mostly drabbles I guess?? Less than 1k that’s for sure, and some are slightly more than that. But nothing much, since I’m not up to making more than that for everyday this whole month haha (i am weak my spirit is dead marichat is the only reason why i’m writing for this god forsaken fandom or as i would call it, For The Greater Sin™)

Anyway, enjoy!

Day: (2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18)


“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asked innocently, feline eyes blinked mockingly back at her from where he was sitting on her desk chair while she was standing in the middle of the room, trying to attach the long sleeves of a dress she had on the mannequin.

“You’re staring,” she mumbled through the pins she had at the corner of her lips, giving him a dull look as she plucked one pin out to make one of sleeves stay in place. “And you’re not exactly being discreet about it.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“And my ass is made of chicken.” She deadpanned.

He chuckled. “Fine, so maybe I like watching you work,” he ignored the way she clicked her tongue. “You have all these expressions passing through your face that it’s,” he shrugged. “Kinda intriguing, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You find my expressions amusing, Chat?”

He let a grin form. “Maybe. They’re so lively that you could probably be on a play and the producers would probably be so impressed with you that they would hire you the moment they saw you.”

She gave a short laugh. “Very funny. Now, go do something else other than stare at me. I can’t work when there’s someone watching whatever I’m doing.”

Groaning, he threw his head back, looking absolutely ridiculous as his lanky legs were stretched unceremoniously in front of him, where he was against the gracefulness his name sake held. “But I’m bored.”

“What do you expect me to do?” She snorted, tugging the dark red cloth she winded around the mannequin to straighten the creases. “Read you a story book?”

He hummed thoughtfully from where he stared at the ceiling, tapping a clawed finger onto his cheek. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Shove off.”

Sighing dramatically, he rested the back of his hand onto his forehead in a dainty pose. “Is this the way you treat your guest? I’m losing my mind from boredom and you just don’t care?” He shook his head. “I am utterly insulted, honestly.”

“As I recall, you’re the one who decided it would be an excellent idea to drop by my house for the night,” she pointed out dryly, shooting him a look. “I’m only letting you in this time because I didn’t want a stray to be frozen to death on my balcony.”

“The master of the house is so kind,” he smirked, peering at her. “And I’m truly grateful.”

“Sure.” She mumbled, stabbing the pin into the mannequin.

“But come on, princess,” he whined, straightening himself up so that he could give her a pout. “You’ve been working for over an hour, let’s watch a movie or play video games or something.”

“I have work, Chat,” She insisted, waving away his protest. “Go find something else to do if you’re so bored.”

“But what?

She threw her hands up. “I don’t know, learn how to knit or something,” she pointed to the basket full of multicoloured balls of yarn huddled at the corner of her desk. “The stuff’s all there. Now, don’t make a peep of sound and learn something new for the day.”

“But,” he stared at the basket. “I don’t know how to knit.”

“And that’s why we’re blessed by the internet to search for things,” she quipped, flashing him a wide smile when he scowled slightly. “It’s a fascinating hobby, you should try it.”

He grumbled, switching on her desktop computer. “Fine.” There was the sound of mouse clicking. “You know, I like it better when you’re not sarcastic.”

“Too bad.” She replied without missing a beat.

After a while, she heard the faint cheery talk of a woman who began to teach Chat the basics of knitting while she continued rearranging the dress to her satisfaction. A moment later, there was the irregular clicking of needles accompanying the woman’s voice, and everything was peaceful for a while that she was getting pulled back into the zone of fashion.

It wasn’t until something heavy fell to the floor that was loud enough to snap her out of her thoughts and looked up in bewilderment.

Only to see that Chat Noir, one of Paris’s respected heroes and loved celebrity, was tangled in yarn of many colours from where he laid on his side, pawing at the black yarn back and forth as his green feline eyes followed it defiantly, his tail lashing behind him.

She gaped at him.

She didn’t keep an eye on him for fifteen minutes and this was the result?

“Chat!”

Startled, he leapt up, only to fall down again when they both saw more yarn was tangled around his feet, letting out a yelp when he hit the floor with a much louder thud that Marinette cringed, glancing worriedly at the trap door.

When her parents didn’t check up on her, she let out a sigh of relief, before shooting him an icy glare.

He only shrugged slightly from where he was tied, his face held no ounce of guilt. “The yarn was fascinating alright, but not to what you imagine it to be.”

grasshoppa  asked:

Angst prompt where little Morgan is playing in the woods when he's cornered by a wolf, but ever vigilant papa Fred saves the day. Yes Frederick, revisit the nightmare of your youth. (Evil laughter)

(Want to change the name? Use this!)

It was a slow day at the castle, not that you minded. You were up in your shared quarters with Frederick, who was working at his desk that had been moved into the bedroom. You were sitting in the chair by the window he had bought for you shortly after marriage, reading the morning away.

Morgan was off playing with little Owain, Laurent and Cynthia, the four becoming the biggest troublemakers in the halidom. But letting them run off and play gave you a peaceful moment with your husband, which were few and far between.

“Say, Frederick.” You glanced up from your novel, looking over at the man. He grunted, unable to look away from the papers he was currently slaving over. A small smile crossed your lips; If it’s not one thing it’s another when it came to Frederick’s work.

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4

Any one remember that shouldrette I started about half a month ago? Well I’ve been working on it non-stop, and it is finally, wonderfully finished! I have to keep pulling out out and staring at it and saying, “damn I made this.” I am sooo happy with it, even if i did forget a lot of  yarn overs in the corner (you can kind of see it if you compare the corners in the top picture) and ran out of beads on the second to last row, and had to get out a new ball of yarn half way through bind off. incidentally that was the first time I got to experience the terror of the race to finish the item before I finished the yarn. I probably wouldn’t have had to skim a bit off another ball of yarn had  I used the recommended needle size, but I didn’t own size 4, and really wanted to cast on, so I went with size 5 needles instead. Oh well, I like it a little bigger anyways. I was so exited to finish it that I blocked and pinned it at one in the morning. I ended up going to sleep at two.