angie and kids

Monday, April 3rd: Bad Boy x Princess AU - Total opposites of how they appear and act in the show, so how well do they maintain this wild relationship of theirs? (AU created by fullertoons)

Y’ALL!!

I’m doing starcoweek3 with trans Marco!! (Marcia?)

(Me seeing that I’m not the only one VVV)

Originally posted by untuckedqueens

+bonus doodle of Marcia and my oc, Angelica under the cut

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2

Bonus:

It's Not Destiny Who Chooses

Wrote this last week, and I thought I might share it here too, so ~ 

Long post. 3k, just below the ‘red more’, so I’m adding the Ao3 link in case someone wants it!  Ao3 clicky me

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me. 


Lance squeals when strong arms wrap themselves around his small waist and then he’s laughing as his brother hold him way up above his head.

“Tony! Tony, no! No helicopter!” Lance shouts, giggles escaping his mouth as his older brother continues to spin him around.

“But Lance! Our audience demanded a maiden in distress, didn’t you, guys?” The seventeen years old turns to the small audience a few feet from them, all of their big eyes wide and entranced in curiosity, nodding their small heads at the question, some of them even cheering for the teen.

“Sorry, hermanito, the audience has the last word.” Tony smirks and tickles Lance on the side, earning a loud laugh from the seven-year-old.

“Angie!” Lance shouts in distress, laughing bubbling, making him shake, “Angie, help!”

The twenty-year-old rolls her eyes but smiles softly at her brothers as she makes her way towards the pair. “Okay, alright, Tony, stop tormenting him. It’s almost time for dinner, anyways. Come and help before you continue playing, deal?” She asks, looking down at her brothers before turning towards the small children, “Who is ready for a warm Christmas Dinner, guys?”

The small children cheer louder at her words, most of them raising their hands enthusiastically as some of them stumbled on their own steps to stand up.

Angie giggles fondly at them before she raises her head and her eyes meet a small body on the other end of the room, face hidden from her as he looks down on the ground and rubs his arm nervously, almost as if hugging himself.

It’s not the first time that one of the kids in the orphanage they volunteer at is closed off or distant. Christmas is always a hard time for orphanages, especially for the kids. Angie understands that, she’s been volunteering along with her family most of her life, and she had been so good to befriend and include every single kid back when she was their age.

Now, at age of twenty, it’s difficult for kids to confide in her easily. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just a clear line between adult and kid and sometimes it’s difficult to find a common ground.

Angie purses her lips, deep in thought, before a body crashes into her middle. She huffs out of surprise before she looks down and the bulb inside her head lights up as soon as her little brother’s blue eyes look up at her.

“Ups, sorry!” Lance says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Angie waves him off and she kneels down quick to grab her little brother’s arm as he was about to follow the small crowd behind her.

“No, wait, Lance,” She calls, moving her head around until she caught her brother’s eyes. Angie nods once she decides he’s paying attention to her before she continues, “Do me a favor? You see that kid over there?”

She points with her head subtly and she wants to facepalm herself when her brother turns around abruptly towards the direction and screams his concerns.

“Angie, why is that kid all alone? Is he sad? Why is he sad? It’s Christmas! Does he know it’s Christmas?” He questions with a small pout, not pleased that someone wasn’t having fun like the rest of the party.

Angie hushes him quietly. “Well, I don’t really know, buddy. Maybe he doesn’t like partying?”

“But why is he alone?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in confusion and Angie pushes his bangs out of his face.

“Maybe because he needs a friend?” She suggests, shrugging her arms and giving him a small push with a smile, “Are you up on being a friend, buddy?”

Lance blinks before he beams and nods his head. Angie laughs at her brother’s enthusiasm and drops a quick kiss to his temple.

“That’s my Lance.” She praises softly before she pushes him gently towards the kid, “Now go. Please tell him dinner is almost done and then it’s time for gifts, alright?”

“‘Kay!” Lance shouts back over his shoulder, making his way. He dodges and avoid the big bodies around the room, mumbling and shouting at the same time quick ‘sorry’s’ when he’s not quick enough.

“Huh,” Lance says out loud as soon as he arrives, standing behind the kid, “You have a mullet! Cool!”

The kid stiffens and he’s quick to turn around, meeting Lance’s eyes for the first time and the brunet doesn’t hesitate to wave at him innocently, offering a big smile.

“Hi! Sorry, I just looking at your hair and it reminded me of my Tio’s hair. He says it’s a mullet with style, and that only cool guys like him have one, but my mama says it’s something only old guys wear. She says my Tio is still living in the eighties, even though he lives like five houses away from us, and there are no streets named like that, but that’s okay! As long as he visits during the weekend, of course! Yours look like a mini mullet though and you are not old –”

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Tinhats act like not seeing your son on Father’s Day is a cardinal sin.

anonymous asked:

Mergucket AU prompt idea: sunken boat exploring. You can't go wrong with classic mermaid things. Bonus points if it is haunted.

               “Here it is!” Angie said gleefully.  She parked herself on a large boulder.

               “What, was it is race or somethin’ to get here fastest?” Stan asked, annoyed, finally catching up to her.

               “Force of habit.  Lute’s here, so I have to get to the destination first.”  Angie grinned at Lute, who just arrived at the boulder. “Beat ya, bro.”

               “We ain’t guppies no more.”

               “Uh huh.  Sounds like yer bitter,” Angie said, poking Lute’s shoulder.  He glowered at her.  Ford slowly swam up to join the rest of the group.

               “Why are we here, again?” Ford asked.  Angie sighed.

               “Didn’t ya listen, Stanford?”

               “No one explained it to me.  Stan grabbed my hand and told me we were leaving, and that Fiddleford was, and I quote, ‘too chicken to join us’.”  Angie nodded, her tail swishing idly.

               “Yeah, Fidds thinks the wreck is haunted.  But I don’t know ‘bout that.  I just know that it’s prob’ly the coolest thing within a hundred yards of the colony.”

               “We’re here ‘cause Angie and I heard ya and Stan talkin’ yesterday,” Lute replied.

               “…What did you hear?” Ford asked warily.

               “Somethin’ ‘bout how ya got the babes, but ya didn’t get the treasure yet,” Angie said airily.  She winked at Stan.  “I don’t know if ya got me quite yet there, Stanley.”

               “Oh, I’ve got you,” Stan said.  Angie grinned.  

               “But anyways,” Lute intervened, “supposedly, there’s treasure in the wreck.”

               “‘Supposedly’?” Ford asked.

               “No one’s gotten through the whole thing yet.  They always get too scared,” Angie said.

               “How long has it been there?” Stan asked.

               “It sank when ‘round Violynn and Harper hatched, right?” Angie asked Lute. Lute nodded.

               “Yep.  So, a bit over thirty years, maybe?”

               “And you’re sure it’s got treasure in it?” Stan asked.

               “It was a merchant ship in charge of transportin’ valuables,” Angie said. Stan’s eyes widened.

               “Really?”  Angie shrugged.

               “Nah, I don’t know what kind of ship it was.  But there’s got to be somethin’ inside it.  So. Are ya up fer it?”

               “Duh,” Stan scoffed.  

—– 

               “So, um, how are we supposed to see in the dark down here?” Ford asked. He swam into a wall, again. “Damn.”  

               “What, ya didn’t get the mer ability to see in the dark?” Lute said.

               “Is that a thing?” Ford asked.

               “Pfft.  Nah. Just foolin’ with ya.  Here.”  There was some shuffling noises, then a small light appeared.  It glowed dimly at first, but rapidly grew brighter, until the merfolk could see their surroundings and each other.

               “What is that?” Ford asked curiously, swimming closer to the sphere Lute was holding.

               “Just a ball full of dinoflagellates,” Lute said.  “Got to tap ‘em ‘fore they turn on, though.”

               “Wait, they’re trained to activate their bioluminescence on command?”

               “No,” Angie said.  “Can’t train phytoplankton.  They’re bred fer this.”  She rolled her eyes.  “What, did ya think all we grew on the farm was seaweed and coral?”

               “Fascinating,” Ford murmured.

               “Not really,” Stan said.

               “Ford, we ain’t here to look at somethin’ we got in the house,” Lute said.

               “You have these at the house?!”

               “Duh, we can’t see in the dark!”

               “Let’s just keep movin’, okay?” Angie said, already swimming forward.  

               “Sounds good to me,” Stan said.  He followed her.  

               After about half an hour of nothing more interesting than a sleeping blacktip reef shark (which Ford had to be pulled away from), they finally came to a closed door.  Stan inspected the hinges and doorknob carefully.  

               “Doesn’t look like this has been opened in a while.”

               “Maybe we’ve finally gotten further than other merfolk have,” Lute suggested.  

               “Maybe.”  Stan jiggled the doorknob.  “It’s locked. Gimme a sec.”  He ran his hands through his hair, dislodging small crustaceans.

               “How long has it been since ya combed yer hair?” Angie asked, aghast. Stan shrugged, still feeling his scalp.

               “Ha!  Here it is.” Stan pulled a bobby pin out of his hair.

               “Why do you have a bobby pin in your hair?” Ford asked.

               “‘Cause I can’t keep it in my pockets anymore,” Stan replied, already picking the lock.  Angie and Lute watched him with interest.  “Annnnnnd…there.  ‘Bout time. Must be losin’ my touch.”  He swung open the door.  “After you, Lute.”  Lute stayed back.

               “Why do I have to go first?”

               “You’ve got the science flashlight,” Stan said.  

               “Here,” Angie said, taking the glowing sphere from Lute.  “I’ll go first, since yer scared, Mr. Lures-Sailors-To-Their-Deaths.”  She swam into the room, closely followed by Ford and Stan.  “Huh.”  They were in what appeared to be a storage room, filled with crates and barrels. Angie set the sphere on the floor in the center of the room, then swam over to the barrels.  She tapped one curiously.  “Wonder what’s in here.”

               “Lemme see,” Stan said, joining her.  He rolled the barrel over, revealing letters stamped on the wood.  “Maple syrup?”

               “…What’s maple syrup?” Lute asked.

               “Humans put it on breakfast food,” Ford replied.  “Pancakes, waffles, sausage.  And some use it to make candy.”  He registered the confused looks on Angie and Lute’s faces.  “Pancakes, waffles, and sausage are all hazardous to merfolk.”

               “So’s we can’t do anything with all this?” Angie said.  Ford frowned.

               “Well, maple syrup is essentially sucrose.  Which I don’t think fits under the definition of things merfolk can’t digest.”

               “I’ll take one home, ask Ma ‘bout it,” Lute said.  He joined Angie and Stan by the barrels and began to move them around, looking for a smaller one.  Ford drifted over to one of the crates.  

               “What’s in those?” Stan asked.  Ford wiped a thin layer of algae off.  

               “…Children’s toys.  What kind of ship was this?”

               “Canadian pediatrician’s?” Stan suggested, swimming over to Ford.  He looked the crate over, before punching a hole through it.  “God, I love this whole mer superstrength thing.”

               “Yeah, it’s pretty snazzy,” Lute said idly, still looking through the barrels of maple syrup.  Stan reached inside the crate and pulled out a brightly colored ball.

               “Catch!” Stan said.  He lobbed the ball at Lute, who ducked.  The ball bounced off the wall and landed on the floor, bumping against one of Angie’s fins. Angie cocked her head at the ball.

               “What is that?”

               “Kid’s toy.  Didn’t ya hear?” Stan said, continuing to dig through the crate.  “Man, just a buncha balls in here.  Heh.”  Ford rolled his eyes.

               “Mature, Stan.”

               “Wanna take this home, too?” Stan asked Lute.  Lute, who had finally picked out a barrel, shrugged.

               “Whatever sinks yer ship.”

               “I think so,” Angie said abruptly.  She joined Stan and Ford and peered at the crate’s contents.  “There’s enough in there fer ‘bout two clutches, I’d say.  Never know when it might come in handy.”  Stan stared at her.

               “When you say you want it, you don’t mean for, like, you, right?” Stan said cautiously.  Angie rolled her eyes.

               “No, these are guppy toys, Stan.  I wouldn’t play with ‘em.”

               “Okay, when you say you want it, you don’t mean for your guppies, right?” Stan amended.

               “I don’t have any guppies.  Yet.”  Angie picked up the crate.  “Hmm.  Ain’t too heavy, but it’s kind of bulky.”

               “Gucket, talk to me,” Stan said, thoroughly worried now.

               “Oh, fishtails, calm down, Stan,” Angie said.  “We ain’t even mated.”

               “Yeah, but you still haven’t answered the question,” Stan said.  While Stan and Angie bickered (and Lute watched, amused), Ford swam over to the back wall of the room.  One of the wooden panels was different from the rest. Carefully, Ford pried the panel off, revealing a passageway.

               “Maybe leave the crate and barrel here,” Ford said slowly.  The others looked over at him.  “We haven’t finished exploring.”

agent-jaselin  asked:

9, big sis au

9. Our first dinner party

Apologies in advance, there’s no actual dining in this.  But I had an idea, and it’s still dealing with the first dinner party, so I think it counts.  

Send me an AU and a number and I’ll write you a ficlet!


               Stan put the last plate down.  Molly silently handed him a fork, which he placed next to the plate.

               “There.  Table’s set,” Stan said, satisfied.  He grinned at Molly.  “And without your mom telling me how to do it.”  Molly nodded.  “Okay, you’re free.  Go do something until Grannie and Grampie Gucket get here.”  Molly ran off eagerly. Stan took a breath.  He looked at the lasagna on the counter (Angie had been craving Italian food lately), fussed with a few pieces of silverware on the table, and looked longingly at the liquor cabinet.  

               Probably shouldn’t be drunk when Angie’s folks get here.  Stan ran a hand through his hair.  Shit, where is she? He left the kitchen and walked down the hall, passing Molly playing with a toad in her room.  His ears picked up on the unmistakable sound of someone hurling.  He stopped by the bathroom and knocked on the door.

               “Angie?” he said.  

               “Yeah?” Angie said in a weak voice.

               “Can I come in?”

               “Yeah.”  Stan opened the door.  Angie was leaning against the toilet, sweaty and pale.  Stan sat down next to her.  She looked at him tiredly.  “I thought mornin’ sickness was in the mornin’,” she said quietly.  

               “You gonna be all right for dinner?” Stan asked.  Angie nodded.

               “I think so.  I got to be.” She put her head directly over the toilet bowl and retched.  “Ugh. This kid’s playin’ croquet with my innards.”

               “We can call it off if you want,” Stan said, rubbing her back.  Angie shook her head.

               “No.  They came all the way here, we have to do this.”

               “Telling ‘em over the phone is still an option.”

               “No.  My folks deserve more ‘n that.”  The doorbell rang.  “Oh, no. That’s them.  Go welcome ‘em.”  

               “Not while you’re sitting on the floor, puking your guts out,” Stan said. “Molly!” he called.  Molly appeared shortly, still holding her toad.

               “Yeah?”

               “Grannie and Grampie Gucket are at the door.  Let ‘em in, but say that your mom and I will be out in a bit,” Stan instructed her.  Angie retched again.  Molly stared.

               “Mom, are you okay?”

               “Yes, sweetling, just have some mornin’ sickness is all,” Angie said.  “Happens with babies.”  The doorbell rang again.

               “Go get Grannie and Grampie Gucket,” Stan repeated.  “Your mom’s fine.”  

               “Okay…” Molly said, not completely believing him.  She walked away.  Angie groaned quietly and slumped against Stan.  Stan stroked her hair.  

               “Feeling better yet?”

               “I think so.  I mean, there’s nothin’ left in my stomach to throw up, at least.”  She stood woozily.  “Should go say hi to Ma and Pa.”  Stan grabbed a towel and handed it to her.

               “Maybe wipe your face a bit first.”

               “Good idea.”  As Angie cleaned herself up, Stan poked his head into the hall.  He could faintly hear Molly talking to Ma and Pa McGucket.  “Done. Let’s go get this dinner party over with,” Angie said, walking into the hallway.  She was still a bit pale, but didn’t look ill anymore.  Stan followed her down the hall.

               “Our first dinner party, and it’s to tell your folks I knocked you up,” Stan whispered to her.  Angie let out a groan that was half laughter. They arrived in the living room, where Ma and Pa McGucket were sitting on the couch, watching Molly talk about something she’d read recently.  

               “Sugar-cube, that’s awful interestin’, but where are yer parents?” Ma McGucket asked.  Angie opened her mouth to say something, but Molly beat her to it.

               “The bathroom.  Mom has morning sickness,” Molly said idly.  Angie let out a small squeak and clapped her hands over her mouth.  At the sound, Molly looked over.  “There they are!”

               “M-Molly, go put your frog away,” Stan stammered.  “And wash your hands so we can eat.”

               “He’s a toad.”

               “Whatever it is, put it back in the cage.”  Molly did as she was told, giving Angie a wide berth.

               At least she remembered that Angie can’t be around amphibians while she’s pregnant.  Angie bit her lip, nervous from the stares her parents were giving her.

               “You- you have mornin’ sickness?” Ma McGucket asked.  Angie nodded slowly.  “But mornin’ sickness is a symptom of pregnancy.”

               “Ma,” Angie said quietly.  

               “Junebug, are you expectin’?” Pa McGucket asked.  Angie nodded again.  “But yer not married.”

               “No, Pa.  And- and Stan and I agreed to wait until after the baby’s born.”  Pa McGucket let out a low sigh.  He stood up.

               “Well, let’s get to dinner, then.  No point in delayin’, since yer eatin’ fer two.  Where’s the bathroom, so I can wash up?”

               “Down the hall,” Stan said.  “Sir,” he added.  He and Ma McGucket left the living room.  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “That went…shittily.”

               “Stan,” Angie hissed.

               “No swearing.  Right.” Stan sighed.  “At least the hard part’s over.”

               “The hard part?” Angie said.  “Darlin’, we have a whole dinner to sit through, with my parents askin’ everything they can think of, about the pregnancy and what our plans are.”

               “…Dam- dang,” Stan muttered.  He rubbed his face.  “Maybe I should get a drink.”  Angie leaned her head against his shoulder.

               “Only if ya get drunk enough fer both of us.”

anonymous asked:

can you please write some more young tom being to raised by rafeal and angie

Of course I can! I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you enjoy it! I really liked writing it and I hope you like it, I liked this au!


“He got into a fight?” Angie asked. The principle nodded. Tom was sitting in between Angie and Rafael. “He’s only eight! Can eigth-year-olds even get into fights?” She asked. The principle nodded.

“Yes they can and he did.” He told her. “Tom and another student named Timothy Greeley sort of… had it out on the playground.” He explained.

“Tom, what happened?” Rafael asked. Tom looked down. “Tom?” He asked again, in more a stern voice.

“I hit him.” He mumbled.

“You hit him?” Angie asked, appalled.

“Not before I bit him.” Tom looked down and Angie and Rafael exchanged looks.

“You bit him!” Rafael exclaimed. The principle got up and made his way to the door.

“I’ll give you a moment to have a word with your… Tom.” He tried. Angie shook her head at this. It didn’t matter that he was a demon, he was still their son. “I’ll be back in a moment to discuss the rest.” He assured them.

“I can’t believe you bit him!” Rafael cried. “Tom! Why on earth would you ever-” Rafael was cut off when Tom spoke in a quiet voice.

“People treat me different.” He whispered. Angie and Rafael both fell silent and thought for a long moment, before Angie put her arms around her adopted son and gave him a kiss on the head. She brushed his bangs out of his face so she could see his third eye.

“That’s just because they don’t know what to say.” She told him. “Promise me, Tom, no more fighting.” She told him. Tom nodded and the principle came back in.

“Are we finished in here?” He asked. Angie nodded and he made his way back to his desk. “Tom, please wait for us outside.” HE requested. Tom nodded and left the room. The principle sighed and looked back at the parents. “There’s… no easy way to say this.” He started. “But this is the second time Tom has had his behavior reported for being… violent.”

“Are you talking about the time he set the desk on fire?” Angie asked. “It wasn’t his fault! He didn’t mean to, he ignites when he gets nervous, we’re working our hardest to help him control it.” She assured.

“It doesn’t matter if it was or wasn’t his fault. All we know is it happened. And people…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Some are becoming concerned about how well a human family can raise a demon child.” He told them

“What are you saying?” Rafael asked, fear seeping into his voice.

“We got social services involved and… we of course are going to give you a fair evaluation but… as of now, most of those on the board and other parents agree it’s best for Tom to go to a home where he can be with his own kind.” He explained.

“You can’t do that!” Angie cried. “What, because a few parents claimed we can’t raise Tom you’ll take him away!?” She was almost near tears.

“Of course not, Mrs. Diaz!” The principle assured. “But we have to treat every complaint seriously. Or else children may remain in toxic homes. And because of the fight with Timothy, a social service agent was requested to perform a home visit, just to make sure Tom is flourishing in that environment.” He gave them the contact information. “They will be there this saturday afternoon, mostly to talk to Marco about living with Tom, and to Tom about his current living arrangement.”

——————————————————————————————————————————–

Saturday came all too soon. Angie and rafael were nervous, but the children didn’t really understand the full complexity of the situation. Tom and Marco were playing on the floor as Angie and Rafael were trying to to fight because of this event. “Are they really going to take you away?” Marco asked. Tom shook his head.

“I don’t think so.” He mumbled. The boys kept playing when their parents let a woman inside. They watched her go into the kitchen with Angie and Rafael, and heard light talking before Angie called out.

“Tom? Sweetie, can you come in here?” She asked. Tom got up and walked into the kitchen. “Tom, dear. This is Cara, she’s got a few questions for you.” Angie gently pushed him forward and Tom watched the woman closely.

“Are you the girl that’s gonna take me away?” He asked. Angie bit her lip.

“Don’t worry about that, Tom.” Cara told him. “Let’s talk about you. Are you happy?” She asked. Tom nodded and smiled big. “Do you enjoy school?” She asked. Tom’s smile went away and he rocked on his heels.

“Not really, the other kids call me names.” He told her honestly. Cara write something down and continued.

“I heard about the fight with Timothy.” She stated. Tom gasped and clamped up a little. “Tom, can you tell me exactly what happened?” She asked. Tom shook his head. “I just want to help.” She told him. Tom just shook his head again. “Tom please.” She asked. Cara reached her hand out to touch the boy’s shoulders and Tom hissed, his eyes lit up and he ignited.

“I said NO!” He screamed at her. Cara fell back and gasped at the flaming boy. Tom cried and put his hands over his ears.

“He burnt me.” Cara gasped.

“We are so sorry!” Angie cried. “Please don’t think bad of him he just… he doesn’t like to be touched.” She explained. Cara got up and put her clipboard in her purse. “Please! Miss Cara he just… doesn’t like to be touched.” Angie repeated.

“And why not?” She demanded. “A child at age eight shouldn’t be so closed off from physical contact.” She told her.

“Tom isn’t like other kids!” Angie explained.

“You’re right, he’s not.” Cara agreed. “He’s a demon, and belongs in a home with people who can raise him as such.” She told the mother, gave a nod, and left the house.

Angie and her husband stayed staring at the door for a long while. Rafael had Tom in his arms to help calm him down. When Tom was better, he looked up at Angie’s scared face and got a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, quietly.

“You burnt Miss Cara.” Angie told him.

“It wasn’t his fault, Angie.” Rafael reminded her. “He just, has trouble getting close. It wasn’t his fault.” He repeated. He put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and smiled. “We’ll take care of this, I promise.”