A little something something for Grimm who drunk-texted me at the weekend while at a wedding. This was the only plausible outcome.
Also, for more of my lameass wedding headcanons, go HERE.
“I’m sweating through my shirt,” Stiles complains, tugging at the collar of it, wondering why it suddenly feels so constricting. “Is it meant to be this way?”
I’d rather live failing than spend my days never trying. Failing doesn’t make me a failure. Failing means I am trying. It means I am stepping beyond my fears and striving for something more. Failing just means that next time I have learn from my mistakes and form them into my triumphs.
So I’m going to try, and if and when I fail I’m going to take a deep breath, and then try again.
No but can you just imagine Mrs Weasley getting to the magical afterlife one day and the first thing she sees is a girl with red hair sprinting towards her.
For a fleeting moment she thinks it’s Ginny, but as the girl comes closer she recognises the kind smile and the emerald eyes that are shining with tears. It’s Lily Potter.
Lily pulls Mrs Weasley into a tight hug and can only whisper three words before dissolving into tears.
"Thank you, Molly."
OW MY HEART