your father is now having an inquiry

Imagine if Jily were alive during Harry’s second year

Harry and Ron: *crash the Weasley’s car into the Whomping Willow*

THE NEXT DAY

Ron: *gets a howler*

RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER’S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME! — Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.

*awkward headshake by Ginny*

Harry: *gets a howler*

*Lily’s stern and angry voice* HARRY JAMES POTTER! HOW DARE YOU PULL SUCH AN IDIOTIC STUNT! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN- *cut off by James’ even more louder, albeit excited as fuck voice* A FLYING CAR! YOU RODE A BLOODY FLYING CAR! I AM SO GONNA TALK WITH YOU ABOUT THIS! I AM SO HAPPY- HECK I AM SO BLOODY PROUD! A FLYING CAR! HOW’S- *cut off by an even more excited Sirius’ voice* MERLIN’S SAGGY PANTS! YOU ARE JUST THE PERFECT MARAUDER OFFSPRING AREN’T YA?! I AM PROUD TO BE YOUR GODFATHER! JUST YOU COME HOME! I’LL TEACH YOU- *cut off by Moony’s frustrated voice* Padfoot! Prongs! NO!

* occasional clapping and sounds of party poppers bursting in the background, obviously done by Wormtail*

Ron during the Feast: How come do you not get scolded! ;_;

Harry (smirking): It’s a Marauder thing.

McGonagall (who obviously hears that comment while passing the timetable): Trust me, Mr. Weasley. It’s truly a Marauder thing.

@weird-before-you sorry for the delay! Enjoy the headcanon!

When Legolas first sees the scar on Thranduil’s face, he wonders if an orc has impersonated his father. After all, not all orcs began ugly, and their origins are that of elven blood.

Next he wonders if an evil spirit has possessed his father. For the stench of darkness that reeks from the wound is enough to convince Legolas that one has.

That would explain a lot. it would explain the way the spiders use  the woods as their breeding ground, it would explain the sickness of the forest, and the agents of Sauron invading their home.

It would explain his distance.

Legolas’s bow is drawn at Thranduil before the king can register what is happening, an arrow shooting straight through the air and right between his eyes.

Had it not been for his skill with his sword, Thranduil would have died that day, his own son his murderer.

There is silence between them, settling as the splinters of Legolas’ arrows fall to the ground.

“Who are you? What have you done with my father?” Demands Legolas, never once lowering his bow, blue eyes trained on the beast that stands in the Throne room.

The elf sighs in understanding, blistered and pealed skin glistening in the light as he does so.

“Legolas, I am your father.”

“Those scars…they are scars of corruption! Scars that no elf bares. I can sense the darkness from here.”

“An old injury, burned into my body by dragon fire. “ Explains Thranduil, motioning to the wound, “It’s darkness a vice that not even I can overcome.”


Legolas’s bow falters, and his arm lowers just slightly. And though he is not altogether convinced, he continues his inquiry nonetheless.

“Why haven’t you told me?”

“Because you were a child then, and I never saw a reason to tell you now.”

“If those really are scars, then why have I seen them only now?”

“Because the woods are dying, Legolas. And because I must give myself to them, my life, my being,” explains the king, “at the cost of my own wellbeing. These scars, I cover with my magick, but I am running out of magick all together.”

Legolas understands then. Bow falling to his side, and brows furrowing, he speaks.

“But nothing is working.” Legolas begins in realization. “You are too weak and the woods are still dying.”

Thranduil is hesitant almost, slow as he responds. “Yes.”

Legolas  crosses the distance between he and his father, placing himself in front of his King with his bright eyes full of determination.

“What must I do to help, father.”

“Certainly not shoot at me.” The attempt at humor does not go unnoticed by Legolas, though he seeks more serious solutions as he speaks next.

“Then I will do what I must to help you, even if that means destroying Sauron myself,” he speaks, without skipping a beat, “Tomorrow I will go to Lord Elrond’s house, in pursuit  of that poor creature who has escaped our woods. Perhaps I can seek his council in these matters—“

“It is not your job to help me, Legolas,” Now it is Thranduil’s turn to be stern, “Do what I have sent you to do, and no more. Those are my orders.”

His icy eyes bare down on Legolas, yet no malice does he hold within his gaze. Only concern, only fear that his son will take the situation into his own hands.  

Even his, “Yes, my Lord,” Does not put Thranduil at east.

For a month later, Legolas joins the Fellowship.


Legolas just wants to  help, as Thranduil’s scar showing is a testament to his failing strength. Hope you enjoyed my headcanon.

A Knight for a Swan - Chapter 10 & Epilogue

Chapter Summary: Sir David and Lady Snow have reclaimed Misthaven from King Arthur. Can Camelot’s king negotiate a peace treaty that protects himself and his kingdom? What consequences await Sir Killian for his actions against Baelfire? Can Lady Emma convince her parents that her and Sir Killian’s love is true? Is a happy beginning possible after all they’ve been through?

Notes: This chapter gets a rating upgrade for sexual content. If mature scenes of that nature aren’t your thing, don’t worry, I have marked the section for you so that you’re able to skip over it. When you get there (you’ll know by the heading), just scroll down until you see the Epilogue heading. You will not miss anything even remotely resembling plot, so don’t worry about scrolling past if that’s what you’re more comfortable with. Should probably also mention that it’s the first scene of that type I have ever written, so please, be kind. Seriously, you should see me blushing just typing this…

Much love to @juliakaze for the amazing artwork!

~8000 word count / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / Previous chapters can be found here

Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 


 Chapter 10

Killian could not meet his king’s gaze. He and Arthur had been led to the war council room by the duke and his family, only to be instructed to remain there as the family conferred elsewhere. Men who had been under Killian’s own authority that very morning, as per his alliance with Lady Emma, were now stationed as guards outside the door.

Killian glanced over at Arthur to assess his sovereign’s temperament, and found him withdrawn and pensive. Drumming his fingers lightly atop the table at which he sat, Arthur seemed to take no notice of his Captain and Killian wondered if, perhaps, the king would feel more comfortable having a knight he could fully trust with him during the negotiations.

“When the duke returns, I can request for Sir Robin to be summoned in my place,” Killian offered.

Arthur looked up at his knight, confusion lining his features. “Why would I wish Sir Robin over my Captain?” Arthur inquired.

Killian shuffled on his feet, unaccustomed to feeling so unsure in his sovereign’s presence. With a fortifying breath Killian met Arthur’s gaze as he took ownership of his actions with Baelfire, and then silently awaited the king’s judgment of his betrayal.

“Killian,” Arthur began. “That alliance was a farce from the outset. You know that better than anyone,” he declared. “We had already been defeated, and you were protecting the father of the woman you love. I do not fault you for that, Killian.”

“But others will, Your Majesty,” Killian protested. “I murdered an allied lord of our realm in full view of dozens of witnesses.”

“Fortunately,” Arthur countered. “It is only how I choose to view the incident that matters. And I choose to view your actions as a necessity of your duty, not a betrayal.”

“How so?” Killian asked incredulously.

“If Baelfire had succeeded in killing Sir David, and we had somehow been able to push back the duke’s men and allies, I would have owed Baelfire my life,” Arthur reminded. “And what do you think he would have required from such a debt?”

“Emma,” Killian answered in revelation.

“Indeed,” Arthur responded with a nod. “And if we’d lost the battle? With her father dead, who would have been able to stop him from attempting to abduct her again? And whose mercy would our kingdom be under with Sir David dead?” Arthur posed. “As far as I am concerned, you positioned yourself to barter the best possible outcome of our surrender, while also protecting your betrothed.”

“But she wasn’t my betrothed at the time,” Killian countered.

“Sure she was, Killian,” Arthur smirked. “I never had any doubts that she’d choose you in the end,” his admission pulling a smile from Killian’s lips for the first time since they’d been left to stew in the room on their own. “You’re a good man, Killian,” Arthur declared, “and one hell of a knight. One day, I have no doubt, you will make a fine king, as well.”

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Strange Happenings - Ch. 3

Originally posted by reylo-musings

Summary: Your roommate finally returns, though she’s accepted your venture to help Kylo, she remains hesitant and skeptical. The process of getting Kylo accustomed to Earth also continues everywhere from your local coffee shop, to the DMV. Kylo also reflects on just how much he needs to change since his brave decision to escape the First Order as well as how much there’s still to learn.

A/N: Look who busted out another chapter sooner than she thought she would!


Mila’s jaw hung slack with a slice of pizza in her hand waiting as she simply stared in what you could only guess was mild shock. You turned your gaze to Kylo, as he practically inhaled his 3rd piece of cheese pizza only to reach into the box and grab another. She turned to you, mouth still agape and eyebrows scrunched as she mouthed ‘what the fuck’ to you. You simply shrugged. Mila turned back to Kylo and cleared her throat.

 “I see you’re liking the pizza…they don’t have it where you’re from I’m guessing?”

He finally put the slice down as he shook his head in response. Mila gave him a nod, still watching him scarf down his food.

“Where exactly are you from? I mean you speak pretty perfect English for an exchange student. No accent either.”

Kylo hesitated. He knew from your thoughts you wanted him to lie about being from another location on Earth, but you had yet to cover geography with him. Frantically as you mustered up a thought of what Kylo could say, a country you were more than positive Mila knew nothing about, Kylo cleared his throat. 

“Uh I’m from…Moldova actually…my parents home schooled me…taught me fluent Basic-I mean English. We spoke English.”

Your brows furrowed for a moment. How did he know you were thinking of that? Was he that atuned already? You turned to look back at Mila, evaluating if she truly believed him or not. She eyed him up and down as she nodded.

“Ok…Eastern Europe yeah?”

He slowly nodded in response, looking to you in the corner of his eye for assurance. Though you hadn’t expected him to so confidently answer, you could at least assure him he was making valid claims.

“I see. Must have been interesting. Did you grow up in the city?”

“N-no…I grew up in the farming region. Really desolate. No neighbors.”

You winked in his direction, assuring him he was doing a good job conveying this story. You only hoped he would remember it at a later point if anyone else asked. 

“No neighbors? Did you ever visit other cities?”

“No. My parents kept me very…sheltered.”

“How’d you end up driving out here? You know, with a life so sheltered.”

“I uh…I decided I needed to leave, needed to see what else was out there. There was nothing good left for me there. It was going to end up killing me…if I stayed.”

That sounded a little dramatic. Was he already this good of a story teller? Or was this his own story seeping in?

“So just curious if you have no one to contact, what happened to your parents? Any siblings still out there?”

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alyseb630  asked:

"The only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye." This works for Marichat and Soma.

soma it is.


They had never really thought too much about it before, about how when Maka pecked Soul’s papercuts, they would seal easily, about how when Soul pressed his lips to the cuts and scrapes on Maka’s hand from training, they would fade into her smooth, unscarring skin.

Their scars marked who they were— the cuts and scrapes lining Maka’s calves, the bold stroke across Soul’s chest. The frequency of their scars (of Maka’s scars) had faded since childhood, since the times when an eager thirteen-year-old would drag her partner out to hunt monsters.

It was a surprise, then, when as Maka was washing her legs one morning she realized how smooth they were, how unblemished. Even the scar from when Black☆Star accidentally shoved her onto a thorn, piercing her shoe and stabbing into her ankle, was gone.

But stranger things had happened in this world where humans turned into weapons, where witches forged a tentative alliance with a death god, where in the end Maka knew how to hunt for both monsters and information.

It was still a surprise when the answer came from a legend, a fanciful line that would be poetry if it weren’t in a medical history text: “The foremost remedy for an unwanted scar was simply for their soulmate to kiss the scars and wait.”

She had no business blushing this hard over a textbook, yet she couldn’t help but remember how frequently Soul planted kisses on her legs, how he had nuzzled and nipped his way to more urgent places.

She didn’t tell Soul right away— she was more interested in the theory behind “soulmates,” her practical mind leaping over her romantic heart. Stein was a resource, as a fellow academic, and Kid, even as a younger version of his father, had still seen enough years to say this much: “They used to be much easier to find, before the global population boom. Now? It’s a very lucky thing, to find your soulmate.” He had a knowing air about him, though he’d made no mention of Soul, and no inquiries on Maka’s own rather odd question.

Maka couldn’t see her own soul, but she wondered if Kid or Stein might have been able to see the connection. (She had peeked, as she asked Stein, at the professor’s soul, and though she might have seen a shimmering twine pointing from him to Marie, she wasn’t sure.)

If Soul noticed her smoother skin, he made no comment. It’s fine, Maka thought in the end, tracing the scar on his chest while he sighed under her fingers. Soulmate or no, Maka thought she would have stayed with Soul either way.

Maybe that was what being soulmates meant.