i made this instead of do the thousand other things i should be doing. oh well

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

  • Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son
  • But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity
  • Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”
  • And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!
  • (Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)
  • And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.
  • So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!
  • (Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)
  • So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.
  • “So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

Keep reading

Hey, all!  Amy here and feel free to skip this, but I noticed a huge thing going around with fanfiction writers and fanfiction readers. Kinda throwing arrows at one another over mistakes and how they should be addressed.

Okay, first off: stop.  Ew.  It’s gross. Y’all are big boys and girls and y’all can act like it.  You don’t need to attack each other at the knees behind the safety of your screens.

Secondly:  there are points on both sides.  People who write have a right to be proud of their work and can choose not to accept criticism.  On the other hand, people who read and absorb the work have the right as well to point out mistakes they noticed if it’s meant to be helpful.

So how can people interact civilly when it comes to fanfiction and it’s accompanying critiques? By following a few internet rules, plain and simple.  No, I’m not gonna tell you to forgive and forget or just roll over and let the other person have their way.  That’s not what you do IRL and that’s not what you do online either.  Instead, both persons have a series of rules to follow in order to try and make the most of their experience.

Originally posted by m-blunicorn

FOR THE WRITERS:

I start with you because you’re the ones who have poured your heart and soul into this baby. And I get it, I do.  When you spend hours and hours slaving over your baby, going over the idea thousands of times in your head, trying to get the idea on paper, and trying to make it look good, then oh heck to the yes it’s your baby and you’re gonna defend it to the death.  I expect that and that’s okay.  What’s not okay is when it interferes with your ability to check in with the situation and see if they actually meant harm, so here are a few rules I’ve started to use over my years of fanfiction writing:

  1. Read the entire comment for content.  This is a bitter pill to take, especially if they sound condescending or snarky.  I’ve run into a few of them, and they’re never pleasant to deal with, but some of them have good ideas.  Try to filter out the junk of the comment and get to the meat of it all.  (I’ll get to what to do if there’s no meat later)
  2. Take a break from the comment when you get angry. And chances are that if it’s an unsolicited comment, you’re going to get angry.  This is your baby and you’ve worked hard on it.  If the crtiquer isn’t at least taking that into account, you may even get furious.  Get up and walk away.  They do not deserve your wrath.
  3. Decide for yourself if they have a point. Most critiquers tend to leave their comments because they’re trying to help in their own (somewhat obnoxious) way. If they’ve got a point, thank them, but also try to express if the critique was delivered well.  If it was, tell them so they can help more people. If not, tell them so they can work on it.  IF THEY DO NOT HAVE ANY POINT AT ALL AND ARE JUST BEING RUDE, get rid of it.  They’re not worth your time.
  4. Respond or toss.  This is up to you.  If they had content that was actually useful, then they were being helpful like they were trying to be.  If they had content and it wasn’t useful, it’s up to you what to do.  If they had zero content in their critique or it wasn’t relevant at all, skip it.  They’re not worth your time.

I actually formed these rules after an encounter with a critiquer who was completely neutral in tone, blurted my mistakes for the world to see, and essentially made me feel like the absolute worst writer in the world.  They weren’t harsh, but their critique did hurt me, especially because I’d still just been starting out.

The first thing that happened was I got angry.  I was livid, furious.  Like, how dare they?  Couldn’t they just sit back and enjoy the story?  I spent a good week or so avoiding my fanfiction account just because I was so pissed off.  I ended up talking to my mom and she asked me if they had any points.  I think she was going for “if they don’t, then they’re not worth your time”, but they did. After that, I went back and tried to see it from their point of view.

Originally posted by geekylaugifs

Didn’t mean I suddenly wasn’t mad at them.  I was mad, but I also realized that they, in their own roundabout and hurtful (to me, who reads inflection into typed words and winces at every loud noise and criticism) way, were trying to help me.

I worked on it, and I don’t think they ever commented on my stuff again, but the people who already loved my stuff?  The people who said that my stuff was ‘cute’ or ‘genius’?  They loved it all the more!  The critiquer may not have stuck around, but those who did benefited.

(It really took me a long time to stop being angry at them.  Now I just kind of take a lesson from them.  As a fanfiction writer, and as a critiquer myself.)

Originally posted by trendinggifs

FOR THE CRITIQUER:

I’m saying this as someone who has pretty high standards for what I read.  I look into formatting, tenses, plot, characterization, spelling, and even comma usage!  These little things do actually bug me, and sometimes enough to the point of wanting to comment, but I’ve been on the other side of it and remember the frustration and the anger that can come from a wrongly worded comment, so there are a few rules that I’ve formulated in order to be the best critiquer I can be and help as many people as possible get as amazing as they can as a writer!

Note:  These rules are for critiquers who actually do want to help writers get better and improve the overall quality of internet written works. If you’re here because of some superiority complex, these rules may be difficult for you to follow.  I, however, encourage you to do your best and perhaps one day you’ll be a good critiquer.  *^_^*

  1. Find a way to figure out if the author even wants your critique.  One way to do this is to respectfully ask them.  Always open with a positive.  Something like “Hey, I liked ___ about your story, but I noticed something was a bit off. Can I give you a constructive critique?” Typically, an author would be happy to know you cared about their opinion, so this will go either one of two ways.  They will either (A) allow the critique and actually listen to what you have to say or (B) politely decline the offer.  This means they have made up their mind and you are to let it go.  The back button is a wonderful friend at this point.
  2. Follow the sandwich format.  This is a tried and true method for getting people to actually listen.  If you start in with the critique, the author will feel attacked and immediately get defensive.  Instead of wondering if you’ve got any point, they will find ways to contradict you and argue.  Instead, open with something you liked about the story.  There was a reason you read it all to the end, wasn’t there?  Mention that first (AND BE HONEST!  NO ONE LIKES SOMEONE WHO GIVES OUT FALSE COMPLIMENTS), and then get to the critique, or ‘meat’, of your critique.  When that’s done, exit with a thank-you for being willing to listen to your comments.  It takes a lot for a creator to listen to someone point out the flaws in their baby, even if they’re trying to learn.  Remember that you want this to be a positive interaction, not a demolition derby.
  3. No insults or other derogatory comments. Unless explicitly stated otherwise, the writer is trying their best.  Insulting them makes them less willing to hear you out, much less accept your comments and get better.
  4. No elevating yourself over them.  It’s a no-brainer.  You’re not there to school them, you’re there to help them.  Helping requires a serving mind, which puts their needs before your ego.
  5. Do not hound the author.  If they listen but don’t take your comments, you’re not allowed to harass them.  Most likely, they don’t see a point in your comment and have elected to ignore it. And that’s fine.  The point is that you managed to bring it to their attention once.  Maybe they’ll come back to it later, maybe not.  Either way, once your critique is given, it’s done.  Unless they come to you asking about it, your job is to pack up and vamoose, or simply to sit back and enjoy watching the rest of the story unfold.
  6. Make sure your comments are objective.  Like, if there’s a comma problem, tell them about it. If there’s verb tenses being messed up, inform them politely.  If person A didn’t get with person B, then you’re not critiquing.  That’s a matter of opinion and doesn’t belong in the critiquing category.
  7. Be respectful.  They’re going on a limb and listening to you, and it’s the author’s choice whether or not to continue the correspondence. You don’t have to ‘kiss up to them’ or ‘serve them’, but you have to make sure you’re not being a jerk and that all your comments are warranted.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

I know there are a lot of rules, but critiquing is hard, especially with how a lot of people view them.  But you, the critiquer, ARE NOT EVIL.  You’re not the bad guy.  You’re not messed up.  You’re not ‘sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong’.  You’re human and you’re trying to be helpful.  These are just tips and tricks on how to go about it the right way and maximize your helpfulness.

Originally posted by hippie-janessa

FOR EVERYONE!!

The last thing I’ll say is that not everyone will follow these rules.  They will think they’re stupid or pandering or all-around dumb. Some people who claim to critique will continue to slander our good name by acting like holier-than-thou snits. Some people who write will continue to get outrageously angry for persons daring to say something went wrong.

Originally posted by blisteredblue

Here’s how to deal with them:

  1. Leave the computer.  Or the website, just for a bit.  Enjoy the sunshine, take a walk, talk with your best friend, eat some ice cream, go play.  See if it just blows over.  They don’t get to take away your happiness because they’re angry.
  2. Delete the hate.  When you’re good and happy, you can delete the hate mail, or maybe grab a friend to laugh at it.  But don’t respond to hate with anger.  As my good friend Warlord Okeer said, you shall inflict “the greatest insult an enemy can suffer. To be ignored.”
  3. If they chase you down in anger, block them. This is okay to do.  For fanfiction writers:  if they continue to pester you with their comments after you say ‘no thanks’, block their tails.  For fanfiction critiquers:  if they got angry over a critique you gave, provided that they said okay and provided that you followed the rules of critiquing, you’re allowed to block them. You did it right.  Don’t even stress.

And then there are the times where we forget to follow the rules and insult someone on accident. It happens.  If you realize you’re in the wrong, it’s just one rule.

  1. Apologize.  No, you don’t have to grovel for forgiveness, but understand that your actions may have hurt someone else and react accordingly.  If they won’t take it, at least make the promise to yourself to be better in the future.

And that’s it.  I know it seems like a lot to swallow, but it all boils down to making sure your words are respectful, kind, and true.

Originally posted by fandomdeluxe

Tl;dr:  MAKE SURE YOUR WORDS ARE RESPECTFUL, KIND, AND TRUE!!

Judgey and English

Originally posted by alinok

A/N: Okay this one is reeeeally long but i got carried away and I didn’t want any part of the request to get missed out because I tried to squish it into less than 2000 words

Request:  could I maybe request an imagine where the reader is new and she moves to riverdale from England and she starts off as a waitress at pops and befriends Jughead because she’s all little and sassy and sarcastic. Then maybe she could become a river vixen and reggie and the football team all take an interest and juggy gets all jelly because he’s developed a subconscious crush on her 

Word Count: 3,249 (god.damn.)

Warnings: Bad pick up lines, some brief angst

Keep reading

I respect the opinion of my elders, but just an open query about the charges brought against my generation:

For not working hard enough: where is the evidence. When we were younger you told us you started from a small job and climbed your way to the top. When we are flipping burgers it’s because we didn’t apply ourselves. When you did it, it was shouldering the future by suffering in the present. When we ask for the money to buy bread, it is shameful. When others went on strike in the name of labor conditions, it was heroic. When we ask for more, we never deserve it. So how did you get here? Did you never sit up and demand the world give you what was rightfully yours? How hard working is hard enough?

We are illerate, use slang instead of language, shun poetry: did I just imagine the “rad” bloom of the 70’s? Is it because you can’t catch our tongues in your hands? Is it because our poetry is now published beyond books, beyond the control of one voice, beyond you? That our language doesn’t need your approval to evolve? When you drew political pictures of us asking how to turn a book on, you laughed at our ignorance. When the tables turned, when we were shown to be the most literate and well-read generation on record, you scratched the mirror. You said it was our lazy nature. A body rotting. Because we read trash, or we read into things, or we write loudly and it bothers you. Why does it bother you?

School is too easy: What was it like going to school without being worried about a shooting? Did you ever cower like we have, like I did, like our friends, crying muffled in your hands because you love your parents and now have no time to tell them? What was it like, dear, in a world where my standardized testing scores would have broken your curve and I didn’t even get perfect. What part is the easy part. Is it the highest recorded level of anxiety? Is it the rising teenage suicide rates? Is it the eating disorders, body dismorphia, self harm, self destruction? Tell me, have you seen - there’s a show called “Are you Smarter Than A 5th Grader.” It’s very funny. In it, bright young kids show adults that what we’re learning didn’t even exist in common knowledge while they were in school. Tell me. If you were up against our 5th grade curriculum, who would win? No, I’m sure you’re fine. You learned it all in high school.

We want too many free things: What was it like to want for nothing? What was it like to have a certainty that hard work leads to a bright future. What was it like imagining being rich instead of imagining just being rich enough to eat good food. What was it like, not being worried that a broken leg would cost you an entire apartment? Do you know they hate us so much they would rather see us die than bring down the price of an EpiPen. And since I know you love the idea of us abusing the system, tell me, where do I go to expose the lie about my life-threatening allergy? How do I fake it, because I’d like to opt out of it, and while I’m at it my mental illness, and while I’m at it can you take my chronic pain please. And since I know that the answer is to go to school and get a degree so I can be worthy of not dying, just another question: are you aware fifty thousand dollars a year is equivalent to a house. I could buy a house instead of going to college. Since you’re good at this, while we’re talking, I have two siblings. Which of the three of us gets the money? Go on. Look at us. Choose. Who goes hungry?

We’re entitled: yes, please, give me a deed, give me land, give me better than winning the lottery. What I’m entitled to is life, liberty and the pursuit of profit, am I not? So where are any of the above? Where did the jobs go? Why do you jail people for small crimes but free the criminals? And my life? This life? I end where my body begins, I am cut off from the nation’s decisions about what I can put in or take out of me. And me? I’m safe because I’m white-passing. Don’t the bodies pile up? Aren’t we entitled to justice? Aren’t we entitled to an answer? A response from the government? More than just speeches about how riots won’t solve things? Aren’t we entitled to a fair trial? To freedom of speech? Was it not our common fathers who fought for these things?

We’re lazy: Where? Who has the money? I’ve been working since I was 12, am I just an anomaly? Or do you just ignore those who don’t fit your story? All those student-run engineering projects that are changing history. All those protests. The art world, shifting. All these adults who demand more - do they count as lazy or as entitled? What were you doing at our age? Did it really look all that different?

We don’t listen to real music, don’t like real art, are loud, are too busy partying: We changed and you didn’t keep up. Is that’s what’s so startling?

We are sucked up into the Internet, wouldn’t drop the phone if the apocalypse was happening: my phone has my family on the other end of it. Do you not save pictures from a burning building? Do you really care so little for others you’d stick to the old ways entirely instead of texting? Oh sure, yes, a letter is pretty, I love them. But just asking for a friend: What do I do in an emergency with only a pencil. And I don’t mean to downsize the problem because I mean it’s not like you took Polaroids of your friends at sunset - right? - and it’s definitely wrong of us to want memories of a really nice night, but, just curious, did you post that opinion on the Internet? Was seeing others on the Web what made you upset? Maybe - this is just a crazy idea that popped up into my head - you should go take a walk, go outside, disconnect.

We do everything different: Yes. Because we were raised on the cusp of the next great Renaissance. We are in somewhere new, a galaxy of expansion that doesn’t rely on you. That knows more than you do. That doesn’t function the way you expect it to. How rose-colored is the past to you? The place where you erase AIDS and drug abuse in an effort to tell us we are a terrible youth. Where you don’t talk about the marches that happened around you. How painted do you picture it, simply because you had to physically look in a book to learn something new? How do you turn your eyes to a world where war sits on our necks, our earth melts, our populations swell, our people starve, and we are powerless in it all - and say, “It’s your fault.”

It’s our fault. The housing market, somehow related to our obsessive need for safe spaces, I’m sure, because our dreams no longer lie in yards but rather something big enough for at least a bed, and hopefully with tasteful curtains, and you have no idea what a safe space is. The certain failure of the two-party political system, maybe somehow due to our political correctness - we are, after all, rude enough to never open doors for old ladies or just let you be racist - how we controlled the media, how our desires drove this. Our request for trigger warnings and correct pronouns is a burden, and I see that now, because our special snowflake syndrome really does hurt you as a person; while your ongoing use of torture in corrective therapy is only a problem if you’re actually looking. You’re so right about so many things. When you beat us to correct us, it’s your child and it’s your right; when it’s our bodies we ask to have rights over - well, what did we expect? It’s our fault. The crushing debt, the companies that own our government, the privatization of prisons, the unrightful searches, the human trafficking and abuse of sex workers, the gun violence, the pharmaceutical industries which control our doctor’s choices, the climate change you only just started to admit is happening, the extinction of species worldwide - we are responsible for both pollution and poaching, the lead in our water, the death in our streets. So what do you get from it? From dismissing us? From quitting on us before the race begins? From forgetting who exactly raised us kids?

Now, I was told that the problem is that we too often point to bigotry. That we hide behind pointing out your sexist comments instead of realizing the truth your words wrought. I was told we are so focused on our victories, of a world that rallied for marriage equality, for gender expression, for the safety of survivors, for a healing nation - we call out instead of calling on. So I’m calling on you, Generation X kids. Here’s your free one. No bigotry spoken of. So speak. Explain what exactly you mean.

I get it. We asked for a country. The land is borrowed from your children, they tell me.

Now why are you so afraid when we show up and start collecting?

The Mute || Kim Namjoon

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff


He was the typical quiet kid. Always seen at the back of the class, hidden behind a few books and his laptop. Never was he seen at social gatherings, parties, school events. You could walk into the library any night of the week and there he would be, in the back like always. Most people tended to ignore him, forget that he was even there, but that wasn’t the case with you.

There was something about the silence that drew you in, the natural look of curiosity on his face as he typed away on his keyboard. It was almost mesmerizing in a way, and you found yourself staring at him before lectures started, and on nights when a friend and you went to go and study for upcoming tests. Nobody seemed to notice that you had become completely captivated by the boy.

“What are you staring at?” You felt an arm come around you as the person scooted their chair closer to yours and you turned to look at who it was. Kim Jongmin had been a friend of yours from high school, and you two had remained close even when you had entered college together. It was normal for the two of you to sit close together or have your shoulders pressed against each other.

Keep reading

Space Cowboys and Walkmans (StarkQuill)

“So look, if you push this button here, it locks your screen so you dont accidentally hit anything while you’re out doing… whatever it is you do.”

“While I’m out guarding the galaxy.”

Tony’s lips twitched into a smile. “Sure, Star Lord. While you are out guarding the galaxy.”

“Do I detect some jealousy?”

“Definitely.” Tony shook his head with a little smile. “Space terrifies me. Want to be a spaceman, stuck on earth being a cowboy.

“Cowboys are cool.” Peter shrugged. “Besides, no need to worry about space when I’ll keep you warm and safe.” Peter winked at him and Tony looked away, flushing a little.

“Anyway, this little button here will keep your song playing steadily no matter what you’re doing.”

“You know, my Walkman did that too? No fancy technology required.” Peter argued, then he looked sad. “Miss my Walkman.”

Tony stared at him for a full minute. “So you aren’t grateful for this insanely expensive Stark Phone that I personally loaded over a thousand songs that I thought you would enjoy onto it? Is that what I’m hearing right now?”

“No.” Peter tried not to laugh at the horribly offended look on Tony’s face. “No. I appreciate it. It’s amazing.”

“But you miss your piece of shit Walkman.”

“Nostalgia man!” Peter argued. “Aren’t you nostalgic about anything?”

“Suck it, Space man.” Tony huffed and gathered up everything he’d brought to show off and turned and stomped out of the room.

“Nice goin.” Rocket snarked, baring his pointy teeth in a little smile. “Richest, most powerful guy on earth and you insult him when he gives you a present. Smart, StarTwat. Smart.”

“It is not Peter’s fault he is so foolishly attached to items from his childhood that he pushes away all attempts from the Iron Man to give him new things.” Drax interjected. “Just because it is stupid does not mean he doesn’t have the right to be nostalgic.”

“Um, thanks.” Peter sent Drax a look, knowing the guy was just trying to be comforting in that awkward, over literal, blunt way of his.

“I think you should stop flirting with him, and just get our gear fixed so we can leave.” Gamora said shortly, barely looking up from her book.

“I am Groot?”

“Tell me about it.” Rocket narrowed his eyes at the green woman. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Gamora. We all saw you flirting with that scary redhead. Don’t be mad at Peter for chasing some tail.”

“I am Groot.”

“No. No that’s not what chasing tail– I don’t mean Peter literally has a tail to chase.”

“I am–”

“That’s enough.” Peter sighed and ran his hands through his hair miserably. “I hope Stark isn’t too upset. We were having a good time.”

“And you think he is attractive and want to see him naked.” Drax pointed out.

“Thanks buddy.”

“As long as he keeps fixing our gear, I don’t care what you and he do. Just don’t do it here.”

“Thanks for that Gamora. You know, there are two types of people in this world. People who–”

The woman got up and walked out of the room and Peter stared after her.

“That was rude. Wasn’t that rude?”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, I’m tired of hearing him bitch too. Let’s go twig.” The rest of the team filed out, leaving Peter alone on the couch, kicking himself for driving the brilliant hottie known as Tony Stark away.

Keep reading

i’m in love with the shape of you.
  • Summary: “It had been easy, for the first two or three weeks, to take things slow like they had agreed to when they started dating. (…) Now the problem was that even though Kara believed she had a good sense of self control, whenever Lena was around her, it seemed to run short.” Inspired by this tweet.
  • Pairing: Kara/Lena.
  • Rating: STRAIGHT UP SIN. +18
  • Beta’d by: Bia, who by the way forced me to write this. (@kinkylena)

It had been easy, for the first two or three weeks, to take things slow like they had agreed to when they started dating. Lena was chivalrous, gentle, sweet. All Kara could’ve wanted for in a partner. Most of their time together was spent in late night dates, drinking expensive wine and chinese takeout, maybe watching a bad movie, maybe playing chess (Lena insisted she wasn’t letting Kara win, that she had just improved but Kara didn’t believe a word she said), maybe just cuddling under a fuzzy blanket telling each other about their days. And of course, kissing. Now the problem was that even though Kara believed she had a good sense of self control, whenever Lena was around her, it seemed to run short.

Keep reading

What This Family Does

My own fix-it fic - written before 6x17, but I didn’t publish it before. Slightly canon divergent, but not much… Killian comes back from Neverland, and Snowing are awake already. I felt Killian deserved a little more than just being forgiven.

title: What This Family Does

summary: Killian comes back from Neverland, and some things should not be swept under the rug.

rating: a very tame T - and F for lots and lots of forgiveness… because that’s what this family does, after all.

also on ff.net and ao3


When he’s finally back in their home, weariness settles into his bones as he sinks on the couch.

Staring into the fire that’s crackling against the crispy cold outside, his mind starts to drift, and he thinks back to the moment he was about to burn the dreamcatcher with his awful memories. Without even noticing, Killian runs his hand over his face and sighs.

David didn’t murder him, not even punch him in the face, on the contrary – he showed what looked like genuine relief, maybe even joy when he finally managed to return to Storybrooke, the bloody Crocodile’s offspring’s curse broken. But he knows there will come the moment – sooner than later, probably – when they’ll have to have a serious talk about the disastrous events that took place all those years ago, in that night he ran his vicious blade through a completely innocent man and destroyed yet another family.  In fact, destroying families and orphaning guiltless children seems to be his specialty.

But… he reminds himself that this is in the past, and he has finally made his peace with the fact that his past doesn’t define him. What does define him are his actions and his choices, the man he is now: the man who managed to defy the darkness of Excalibur, the man who stands up for his loved ones, the man who helps justice to be done, curses to be broken and families and lovers to find each other again. The man he is now – he knows and accepts it, that man deserves love, he deserves trust and he deserves a happy ending. And if he has to work a little harder for that, then he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever it takes to set things right with David, his best friend aside from Emma, and he’ll do what he must to prove himself to her, show her that he does have trust in her and their love. He can only hope that it is enough to make her believe in him again and trust in their relationship enough to make her want to be his wife.

Keep reading

turn it off || stiles stilinski

word count: 4309

warnings: none?

prompt: based on 4x09

author’s note: i’ve had this idea in my head for a while, but i finally wrote it so here it is! Y/G/N = Your Grandmother’s Name

masterlist

Keep reading

Ashes Pt 1 [M]

Genre: Angst, Smut, Vampure AU

Pairing: None, yet ;-) but there is some smut in this part. All 7 members will make an appearance throughout the series

Length: 5.8k

Originally posted by jengkook

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Final

You parked your car outside the academic building parking lot. You had gotten out of work early and planned on surprising Suho with a ride home from class. You turned off the engine. Resting your head against the seat of your car. Even though your shift was cut your body was exhausted. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a day off. Your co-workers knew you would never say no to covering a shift and it was starting to take a toll on your body.

You stepped outside of your car. Reaching your arms to the sky you stretched out your back. Your tender muscles enjoying the pull. The clanging of metal caused you to jump out of your skin. Looking around the parking lot, you couldn’t see anyone. You walked around your car to see if anyone was by the dumpsters but there was no one. The same noise repeated itself behind you.

You whipped around to see if someone was there, but once again it was no one. The parking lot was fully illuminated and your senses were now in overdrive. You ran to the other side of your car when you noticed them. Two people standing in front of the doors to the building. You felt uncomfortable witnessing their private moment. The two of them stood intertwined. Mouths moving at a rapid pace. You had a feeling in your gut that you shouldn’t be watching this, but you couldn’t get yourself to look away.

When the two of them parted you saw him. It was Suho. He was the one playing tonsil hockey with someone else. You could feel your heartbeat race as your yanked your car door open. Fumbling for the keys in your hand.

But before you could get into your car something as cold and strong as concreted slammed your body into the ground. The back of your head taking the impact. You could feel the blood spilling from the point of impact. But you couldn’t move. Something was holding you down. The last thing you saw was a shadow hovering over you, as your vision faded into black.

Keep reading

It’s A Meta Crisis!

Anon: Hi first off I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do supernatural story were the reader is obsessed with the show but one day she wakes up in the bunker and she finds out she’s Sam and Dean’s sister but starts to freak out and her ‘brothers’ thinks she may be sick or tries to calm her down. Sorry if that’s confusing <3

Nonnie, I need to apologize for taking so long to get this out, but I hope this was worth the wait. Like always, please message/leave something in my inbox with comments, questions, criticism, if you want to be tagged, etc. Enjoy everyone!

Summary: You are a Sister!Winchester writer and you wake up inside the Bunker one day.

Warnings: None (yes, I know the gif is a typewriter, but it’s hard to find good gifs!)

Tags: @the-third-winchester-warrior @winchesters-favorite-girl @jensen-jarpad @daughters-and-winsisters @lil-sister-winchester

Originally posted by mr-nikolo

“Aaaand, you’re done.” You say the final words of your newly written story aloud as you type them. You wrap your blanket bundle around you a little tighter and click the post button. “All right. You’re up for the whole world to see.” You sigh in relief, happier than ever to get this story out. School is about to start up, something you’re not looking forward to in any way, shape, or form.

You close your laptop slowly. You wish the magic of the holiday break didn’t have to end. The sleeping in, the bliss of not knowing what to do for a whole day, not being sure whether it was Monday or Friday. It was heaven.

You look at the clock. 11:08. Well, if you are going to get any sort of sleep for the early day tomorrow, now was as good a time as any to count sheep. You turn off your light and flop down on your bed. You don’t bother to change clothes or take off your shoes for that matter; you’d be wearing the same outfit to school the next day anyways, so why bother?

You turn your head to look around the sights of your room. A Supernatural poster from season 8 hangs on the far wall. Nearby that, you can see the different ‘hunting’ accessories you had collected over the years, scattered all around your bedroom. Some came from bygone Halloweens, others as holiday and birthday gifts. The old pocketknife with the Men of Letters symbol you carved into the handle, the iron sculpture you pilfered from a garage sale, your stashes of salt and homemade goofer dust, and the leather bag that you used for a hex bag in cosplay. A stack of plaid and flannel shirts sits piled under the poster. You’re particularly proud of the angel blade you had ‘forged’ from moldable plastic beads.

You smile, dreaming about your made up life of being the Winchester’s sister. It’s easier to gain story inspiration through dreaming fanfiction. Oh, the hunts, the magic, the creatures, the excitement, the strong sense of family. Every little aspect about it. Just, Sam, Dean, and you. Against the whole world…

Even before you wake up, you can sense something’s wrong. It’s cold. Colder than your room. You feel around for your blanket to pull up to your face. You freeze.

They’re not yours.

Your eyes open immediately. You sit up cautiously. Did I just get kidnapped? you wonder silently. A dark ceiling and plain walls meet your tired eyes that clearly do not belong to you.

You’re not in your bedroom anymore.

The walls are windowless, an odd bookshelf in the corner. Your eyes scan along the book titles: Mythology and Lore, The Official Book of Exorcisms, Shapeshifters vs. Skinwalkers Vol. 1. The entirety of the bookcase was covered with more scrolls and books like these.

“Okay…little creepy…” You glance around the room, suddenly feeling a sense of either paranoia or excitement. You’re not sure yet. The floor is made not of your soft brown-beige carpet, but a hard floor instead. The most off-putting thing is the smell; it’s a mix of air freshener and dust. Overall, pretty musty. Definitely not the smell of the scented candle at home.

Sounds are pretty much nonexistent. There was always some noise in your home. A passing car on the outside street, siblings arguing in the kitchen over who’s turn it was to use the toaster for Pop-Tarts, or the neighbor’s cat yowling in terror after being chased up a tree by a bullying squirrel.

You peer over the edge of a plain bed. There’s a large wooden chest with leather straps on it. Sort of a trunk really. You’ve never seen this before, but it’s familiar. You abruptly realize you have seen it before.

In your head.

Pieces of everything about this room fly together. The books on the shelf. The floor. The lack of windows and noise. The smell. Waking up in a different bed. Everything is how you’ve imagined it in your stories. You’ve pictured this room in your mind a thousand times, creating different story upon story in this setting.

This is the room you created for the sister of Sam and Dean Winchester.

“That’s not possible…” Only one way for you to be sure. You rub your hands on the top of this mysterious box. If every other detail is right, then this would prove what was going on. Your eyes look down apprehensively, suddenly feeling a series of grooves on the lid of the trunk. You gasp aloud, trying everything to keep from screaming. A six-pointed star is burned into the top of the chest. A Star of Aquarius, better known to you as the symbol for the Men of Letters.

“Just like I wrote.” Your whole body is trembling. Jury’s still out on whether your shaking is from panic or happiness. You look down at yourself. You’re still in the same outfit you fell asleep in: black and white plaid shirt over a black tank top and ripped blue jeans. Your feet are still in the brown faux leather boots from Shopko. You’d tastefully nicknamed them your ‘Winchester Boots’. Little did you know that you’d actually be wearing them in the freaking Bunker.

You slap yourself. Ow. “Okay. Real. Not dreaming. I’m…in…the Bunker.” You turn around in place in a daze. A frightened happy smile stretches across your face. “I’m in the Bunker. The Bunker.”

You take a look at a wooden nightstand. You pull open the drawer cautiously, fearing what might be inside. Inside sits a knife, exactly like your knife in your bedroom. Your other bedroom The not Supernatural one. All the way down to the Men of Letters symbol carved inside. Which makes sense; you’ve based so much of your stories on yourself. Under that sits a small framed but faded photo. You immediately know who it should be, but your curiosity gets the better of you. You gently pick it up.

It’s happy photo of the little baby you sitting on your Dad’s shoulders. Not John Winchester’s shoulders. Your father. Riiight. The sister I created was adopted, not a Winchester by blood, you remind yourself. You stare intently at the picture, recalling the backstory you’d given your Win!sister.

A father turned into an encantado and the mom was a good friend of John Winchester so she teamed up with him in the hunting life. Y/N, became real close to Sam and Dean, helping out with research in her early years and later learning the trade. Teaming up wasn’t a constant thing, but enough to where the boys considered her their sister. John ended up killing Y/N’s dad when he showed up years later. Sam and Dean meeting up became less and less until it stopped completely when Y/N helped Sam get to Stanford. Contact resumed at Roadhouse with Ellen. Her mom died when the Gates of Hell were opened while Y/N was young. She’s been in Sam and Dean’s care since-

You’re cut off by a sudden, yet soft, knocking on the door. “Hey, Y/N.”

You know that mellow voice all too well. You gasp loudly and just barely manage to hold on the to the picture before it can shatter. Standing in front of the door is the freaking giant of a man Sam Winchester.

Originally posted by brothersinsync

He looks at you with mild concern. “You okay? Didn’t mean to scare you.” He finishes with a natural smile. “You didn’t answer your phone. Dean and I just finished one weird case. You’re gonna laugh your head off at this one.”

You back up into the side of bed, still not sure whether to be terrified or bouncing off the walls. You can barely hold onto your voice.

“S-Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Your eyebrows shoot like rockets towards the ceiling. “Sam??”

“Yeah…that’s me.”

“Sam Winchester??”

Sam steps towards you. “Y/N, is something going on?”

“Sam freaking Winchester. In front of me.” You run your twitchy hands through your hair. “Oh gosh, this is happening. This is real. This-this-i-i-it’s. Holy mother flippin’ Metatron. You’re Sam Winchester.”

Sam smiles unsure with a little laugh in his throat. “Y/N, you’re acting like you’ve never seen me before.”

You start gesturing frantically, as you usually did when you fangirled. “Yes yes yes yes, I know I know I know! This i-i-i-is. This is unbelievable. I mean, you’re right there and I’m right here in this room and-” You abruptly stop and take a look at Sam, who is slowly backing towards the exit. “I’ve gone meta, haven’t I?”

“Uh…Dean!” Sam shouts over his massive shoulder.

“What?”

The distant reply of another voice you know hits your ears and a dorky grin stretches across your face. “Oh man, Dean’s here too. Oh boy. Oooookay…”

“C’mere for a sec!” Sam gives you a funny look. “Just…stay right here for a minute.”

You sit down on the bed, beyond happy to comply. “Okay!” Your energy level is off the charts.

Sam walks out of the room with a slightly faster pace than you expect. You hear his footsteps recede to where they’re undetectable. You get up off the bed, a whole new strength coursing through you; in your sudden excitement to see the Winchesters, you ignored the fact that not only are you in a different place, but you’re different too. Your body is roughly the same height, maybe a little taller. But you’re extremely fit now. You feel muscles bulging out of your arms, calves, and torso. It’s a whole new thing. You’re still around the same size as you were, but more of a body-builder version rather than a light exerciser.

You run your hands along the slightly bulging muscles in your upper arms. “Cool.” Your eyes sidle to an unopened closet. A new thought hatches in your mind. “I wonder…” You walk over and open the door, adrenaline and adventure filling your energetic body. You smile. Inside, behind the rack of clothing, is the set of weaponry you dreamt of always having. Shotguns and rifles and swords and pistols and ninja stars and salt rounds and-

You lay your eyes on the two weapons you crave the most: the Enochian carved angel blade from your I See Wings series and three sets of throwing knives you imagined: One for demons, one for creatures, one for witches. Each knife set was enchanted with spells you had found in the Bunker, designed with silver or iron or salt.

At least, that’s how you wrote it. You still hope it’s true.

You pry one out from it’s meticulously crafted case. Oh, the glory of holding one of those babies is indescribable. The black leather grip, the smoothness of the knife, the simplistic beauty of the curvature. You never knew how long you waited for this moment. And your new body is just begging you to try the knife out. You curl it back almost daintily, aim and…

Originally posted by twoidjitsinthesalvageyard

Before you can let your blade loose, Dean himself comes striding into your room. He’s on guard instantly when he sees you with the knife. “Woah, Y/N.” He rushes over to your side and grabs your wrist. “If you wanna throw, we’ve got the shooting range, not your room.”

You stare at him in utter shock, that goofy fangirl smile coming back onto your face. “Dean?” you whisper. Your eyes grow wide. “You’re…real…”

Dean knits his eyebrows together. He scoffs and sits you down on the bed by your shoulders. “Course I’m real. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You can see Sam standing in the door, hesitant to come in the room. Your eyes flick rapidly between the two of them. “I’m-I’m really here? This isn’t some sort of…prank or-or joke or…” You look into the Winchester’s eyes, ever growing concern stretching across their faces. “I mean…you’re both real…” you breathe out.

Dean sets your throwing knife on the bed. “Y/N, are you high?” The seriousness in his voice throws you off guard.

“No! No, no, nope!” you yelp. “Definitely not high.” You scan around the room distractedly, trying to ground yourself on something. “Not high…definitely…not…”

“Uh-huh…” Dean clearly doesn’t believe you. He turns to Sam. “And you just found her like this?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on-”

“What was the last thing that happened to you?” you interrupt. If you can figure out what just happened to the boys, then maybe you can figure out how you got here.

Dean takes a breath. “Well, you wanted to stay and get some research done. We just got back from some weird ass musical about our lives.”

Season 10 episode 5, you immediately think. “So, you’re not a demon anymore and,” you point to Sam, “you just killed Calliope then, right?”

Sam squints at you. “How do you know that?”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” The expression on Dean’s face just melts your poor little fangirl heart. The concern, the honesty. Ugh.

“I…I don’t know. I just woke up here and…” You struggle to find the right words when a lightbulb goes off. You stand up off the bed. “Do you remember when Balthazar zapped you two to an alternate universe?”

Both Sam and Dean groan. “Damn, that was bad,” Dean complains.

“Well, think of this as a reverse one of those.” You grin sheepishly, standing awkwardly in the room as it dawns on the boys. Sam speaks up first.

“You mean…you’re from…”

“Not exactly.” You rub the back of your neck. “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I write stories about the show Supernatural. Mostly about if Sam and Dean Winchester had a sister…” you fade out seeing as Dean’s head looks like it’s about to explode.

“Wait, you what??”

“In the show, it’s just…well, you two. But, I began writing my own stories imagining if you two had a sister. And I guess I’m having some kind of meta crisis right now, apparently. I woke up here in the world I created.”

“In the body of our sister.” Dean sounds more hostile towards you than before.

“Not exactly. It’s sort of a reverse Balthazar situation with a bit of Chuck mixed in.”

Sam looks the least freaked out out of everyone in the room. “Okay. So, you wrote about…us and if we had a sister? Why if?”

“In my life or universe or whatever, Y/N Winchester doesn’t exist except in the stories I write.” You take a look at Dean who looks like he could Hulk out on you. You raise your hands defensively. “I based her on me though. So, it’s not like I’m possessing her; I am her. Sort of.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You wrote her so you are her?”

“Pretend you rewrote the Lord of the Rings with you in them. But, you didn’t want to name yourself after you, so you came up with another name. Like…Jim. Then you find yourself in that story you wrote as Jim. But you based Jim off of you so it is you in it’s own way.”

“This is already making my brain sick.” Dean rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

“No, I get it. That makes sense.” You silently thank Sam for saving your bacon.

“The only question is how I got here. I literally went to sleep and woke up here. Nothing different than normal.”

“Okay…if you were writing this, as a story, what would you explain it as?”

You put a hand up to the back of your neck, a habit when you try to concentrate. “Well, if I was writing this, I’d probably be dealing with a spell of some kind, but nothing crazy happened to me last night. So,” you begin to pace, “that leaves me with…oh. Great.” You sigh and purse your lips together.

“What?”

“Hex bags. I have one in my room.” The Winchesters continue to stare at you. You sigh. “Not a witch, it’s just for cosplay and Halloween. But, I didn’t sweep my room last night. Someone could’ve swapped it out for a real one.”

Dean tips his head up to the ceiling. “I freaking hate witches.”

“Well, it might not be a witch.”

“What do you mean?”

“A witch is only one idea. It might be a tulpa, or a really messed up spirit, or-” You stop, a new idea entering your head. You close your eyes. “Ah, crap.” You raise your hand in a ‘shut-up’ gesture, simply going over to a tv set in the corner of the room and turning it on.

Dean leans forward on the bed. “You gotta kidding me.”

“Perks of writing your own world. You get a pretty good hunch on who did it.” A Casa Erotica scene starts setting up.

Sam points to the screen. “But, he died.”

Originally posted by your-not-invisible-to-me

A very familiar waiter rips off his mustache. “Think again, boys. And girl.” Gabriel pops out through the tv screen landing in front of you and the Winchesters. A weird combination of a smile and an ‘exasperated-parent face’ hits your face. The archangel looks at you. “How do they do it on BBC?” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you miss me?”

Fun fair with the Family - Batmom x Batfam (REPOST please READ the explanation right under the summary :-( )

Summary : Batmom decides to take her family to the fun fair…She quickly realizes it might not be her best idea ever.

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

Repost because, and this time I really don’t know how, the original post got erased…BUT I had it backed up for once. So here. FUCK. Hum. Sorry. But it had almost 100 notes, and comment people left I didn’t even had time to read because the story simply disappeared…I’m a bit bummed out right now…Is it too much to ask if you could like, reblog and comment again ? I kinda feel bad, it’s not my style to ask those things…I’m so sorry for that, but it’s a bit discouraging, to write something, and to see that apparently it was liked, but to not know who liked it, what were the comments etc etc, especially since this time, I didn’t do anything, the story simply disappeared…Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy, and re-enjoy if you already read it :’-(

__________________________________________________

Not even an hour in, and you know you made a huge mistake bringing them here. All at the same time. They were going to be the death of you, so much energy…But it was just so rare that you all had some free times at once…You just wanted to spend some time with them.

It all started so well though.

*******************

You woke up in the best way possible : with your Bruce’s lips trailing kisses on your neck, shoulders and back, his arms wrapped around you. You shifted around, and before you could say anything, he kissed your temple, the corner of your mouth, slowly putting butterfly kisses on your face, to finally kiss you on the lips.

You melted in the kiss, and squeezed his large frame against you, your arms struggling to wrap around him. Damn that man was big. When he pulls away, you can’t help but grin at him, and he gives you the smile he only reserved to you. A real, pure smile. You nuzzle his neck, and he let out a contended sigh.

-You’re alright ?

-More than alright my love, as always when you’re here.

-My sweet Broosh. You know what I mean.

-I am alright. Not even a single bruise or scratch. The boys are too. Calm night.

-I like those.

-I like you.

-I love you.

-Oh yeah, that too. I love you (Y/N).

-Well, here’s for our morning’s cheesy ritual…We probably should get up.

-I have the entire day off.

-Oh ? Well then, what’s the hurry right ?

He smiles once more at you, and you crash your lips on his, climbing on him to straddle him. One of his hand tangles itself in your (H/L) (H/C) hair, the other goes to your waist and his grip is almost bruising. He cannot stop himself, you always had a strong and immediate effect on him…He rolls on top of you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist.

-What’s the hurry indeed.

Keep reading

Lords reaction to accidentally hitting their daughter [Headcanon] (Request)

A/N: I just know this is going to be both hilarious and painful. Rest under the cut to save dashboards.

Nobunaga.

What did he do? That was the price of his pride, wasn’t it. The girl was crying in his arms, a big bruise on her forehead that was caused by his own practice sword. Nothing seemed to work. She wouldn’t stop crying. He knew it had been a bad idea to let her stay. He should have sent her away, with her mother, but no, those puppy eyes were stronger than he was. And everyone tried to warned him, to tell him that his girl was walking right to him, but he thought they were trying to distract him.

They weren’t.

“Here, have some sugar stars”, he wiped her tears away, before kissing the red mark on her forehead. “Mama’s sweets will make you feel better, ok?”

Mitsuhide.

He thought it was a good idea. To show his daughter that he was strong, that he could protect her too. And so, he couldn’t say no when she asked him if she could stay in training. Well, what could go wrong? Right? Everything. Everything could go wrong. He was always so defensive that when he heard something behind him his first impulse was to attack.

He wish he hadn’t.

“Are you okay?!” he rushed to her, hugging her and trying to cease her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Papa was careless”. Mitsuhide showered her in kisses and pampers, guilt heavy on his shoulders after seeing the bruise that was sure to appear any time.

Yukimura.

Oh boy. 

Oh boy.

It had been a long time since last time the retainers had seen Yukimura panicking so much. He was carrying the little girl in his arms, running around the castle, yelling to the maids, for someone to help him. When you heard him, you left the kitchen as fast as you could. Then you saw him. Your daughter in his arms, both of them crying. 

“I… I…”, he sobbed. “She… I… I’m sorry…”

Keep reading

Well, Shit. (A Voltron Fanfiction Chapter 5)

Here is Chapter 5! Chapter six is on the way! Thanks to @ladyfall16 for suggesting the title of this chapter to me! Enjoy! I hope the ending is better for you guys! 

Want to read from the beginning? Here you go!

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/156859812181/well-shit-a-voltron-fanficiton

CHAPTER 6 IS HERE!

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157296304031/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-6

CHAPTER 7 IS HERE!

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157378879001/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-7

CHAPTER 8:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157547824756/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-8

CHAPTER 9:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157710839871/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-9

CHAPTER 10:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157841715481/well-shit-a-voltron-fanficition-chapter-10

Lance is released from his pod with some complications. However the team begins to realize that they don’t know much about Lance at all. 

Chapter 5: Well, Quiznack. 

So they did wait. Lance was never alone for a second when he was in the healing pod. They even ate their meals with Lance, the first night Lance came back home everyone was reluctant to eat in the dinner room. They tried of course until a few minutes into the meal Hunk grabbed his plate of space goo and left prompting everyone to quickly follow. Even though Lance was still in his pod, unmoving and not speaking, it was better having him there.

They did have things to do however. First they sent the Noo and Good back to their home planet, thanking them for their hard work and promised to bring Lance by once he was better. Then they dropped of the Blade of Marmora members back at their secret base. They continued their routine looking for distress signals and their fight against the Galra. But they never once left Lance alone if they didn’t have to.

So they all kept him company, Shiro in the early morning until breakfast, he mostly watched the monitors on the pod and Lance’s slow breathing. Keith took over until lunch like Shiro he mostly watched but occasionally talked to him, he didn’t know if Lance could hear him but he felt it was the right thing to do. Pidge had lunch until dinner, mostly working on whatever she was working on and looking at Lance for a bit before going back to work. Then Hunk took over from dinner chatting up a storm and slept outside of Lance’s pod during the night until Shiro woke him up. Allura and Coran made frequent visits throughout the day, several times to make sure everything was going smoothly.

So they waited. They watched as the cut over Lance’s eye became a thin white line on his tan skin. They watched as color finally came back into his face and he didn’t look so thin. They watched as his vitals got stronger each and every day until the hour finally came.

The team waited anxiously outside of his pod, much like they did after the explosion where Lance saved Coran. Hunk was in front, ready to catch Lance out of the pod. Pidge was on Hunk’s right and Keith on his left. Shiro stood behind them as Allura and Coran look anxiously over his shoulders.

Finally the glass retracted revealing a standing Lance who opened his eyes and immediately fell forward into Hunk’s arms.

“Lance!” They all shouted with happiness.

Hunk moved Lance so he had one arm slung across his shoulder, supporting his weight, Hunk’s arm around his back keeping him upright. Lance blinked, Keith sighed in relief seeing that his eye was no longer red and for the most part he looked just like he did before. However with new scars. Pidge saw it too, looking at his hands crisscrossed with white lines that probably when up his arms. The back of the white suit failing to hide the burn on his back just peaking up over the suit. But he was alive. That’s all they could ask for.

It took a minute for Lance to speak. His throat felt so dry and the room was spinning a bit.

He smiled, “Hey guys!” Voice scratchy.

They all released a sigh, there he was.

“Good to have you back buddy!” Hunk said, giving him a good squeeze before releasing him, still helping him stand upright.

“Yeah, good to be back.” Lance said.

“Honestly you scared us! But it’s good to have you up and around.” Keith said

“Yeah! The castle was so quiet without you!” Pidge said.

Allura came from behind Shiro, “More importantly how are you feeling?” She asked.

Lance paused, he wasn’t really sure to be honest. But then the princess spoke again.

“Don’t worry, take your time.” Allura said.

First he inspected his hand, he had a lot of scarring. I guess the healing pod can’t fix everything, Lance thought. He blinked then he put his hand up to his left eye. He still couldn’t see out of it, great. Well he kind of expected that.

The rest of the team watched growing more anxious as Lance gently placed his hand in front of his eye, squinting at it, touching the area around it his left eye, before finally putting the hand down.

“Lance, is something the matter?” Shiro asked.

Lance looked somewhat surprised by the question and then smiled shyly.

“Oh… um… I can’t see out of my left eye… actually.” He stated quietly.

There was a moment where everyone just stared at Lance in stunned silence before everything happen at once. Allura and Coran pushed everyone out of the way, Allura grabbing Lance’s face and turning it towards her with Coran shining a light in his eye. Sure enough the eye did not react to any kind of stimulus. Hunk’s grip tighten on Lance. Pidge had moved to Shiro’s side gently touching his arm and Keith on Shiro’s other side looking pale with concern.

Eventually Allura gently let go of Lance’s face, “Oh Lance, I’m so sorry.” She said finally.

He blinked at her before shaking his hand and placing an awkward but gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Princess, don’t worry about it. I kind of figured. It’s been this way since I got onto Lotor’s ship, to be honest I’m kind of already used to it! Plus it shouldn’t affect thing too much, it’s not like I’m blind completely! Just got to do some extra training!” He smiled before letting her go.

Here was Lance, scarred and now half blind, giving Allura reassurance. She should be giving it to him! She smiled.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work through it! But you must be starving, why don’t you get changed and we get something to eat?” She asked.

Lance smiled, “Yeah sounds good!” He turned to Hunk, “Could you um… help me to my room? I didn’t really use my legs much on my little vacation-nightmare so they’re kind of shaky.” He laughed.

Hunk blinked still in a little shock from the news, “Uh… yeah sure thing buddy.” He did his best to smile back. The two of them left the room while the rest of the team watched from behind.


Shiro was the first to ask, “Will he be able to pilot his lion?” He questioned, looking at Allura.

He had to ask but he hated doing it, so quickly after Lance stepping out of the pod. So quickly after finally getting him back.

Allura paused about to open her mouth when Coran answered for her.

“It shouldn’t be a problem!” He stated with a smiled. The rest of the group looking at him in confusion including Allura.

“Lance told me about a week before he was captured that he had been piloting the Blue lion entirely through his bond. Using her eyes as his own. He told me in passing after the mission by the two moons of Hadi. He said he suddenly was able to do it and has been ever since. So his half blindness won’t affect his ability to pilot his lion, not to worry.” Coran stated.

The rest looked at Coran, shocked, none of them were aware of this fact.

What? Coran, that kind of bonding is extremely advanced! Why didn’t he tell us?” Allura asked.

I know Princess, I asked him the same thing! Apparently he had assumed that everyone was doing it already since they all increased their bonding with their lions. Like Pidge and Green and the cosmic dust, or Keith and Red coming for him when he was in danger. He thought it was just part of the process! Never realized he had advanced onto the next stage before everyone else!” Coran laughed.

Shiro now felt guilty for even asking the question. He realized something though, none of them knew much about Lance. None of them.


Lance and Hunk made their way back to Lance’s room, Hunk asking Lance if he was all right about a thousand times and each time Lance said he was. It wasn’t a complete lie. He was fine, mostly.

They arrived outside of Lance’s room, Hunk giving Lance a quick glance which Lance could see out of the corner of his eye, his good one anyway.

“Um do you… need help? You know…” Hunk asked nervously.

Lance turned to look at him and smiled.

“Hunk I know you want to see me in my underwear…” Lance began.

Oh god! Come on!” Hunk protested, a blush rising in his cheeks causing Lance to laugh.

“Sorry man, I’m just kidding. No, I think I’m fine now. Not as shaky anymore. Why don’t you whip me up some space goo and I’ll meet you in the dining room in a bit?” He said, still smiling.

Hunks pout turned into a smile before he nodded and ran off down the hall. Lance watched him go. It was good to be back. He looked back that the door to his room and stepped inside like he had so many times before. Everything was left how it was before he was captured. Blankets crumpled on the bed, robe tossed over a chair, hair and skin products in a messy but somehow orderly display on the table.

But it was dark, and Lance was different than when he had left. He knew that. And when Hunk asked if he was alright, he lied just a little. He was always lying just a little. It was something he knew he was doing but he couldn’t stop himself. For being such an honest person, Lance was rather sly. He could tell a simple, tiny lie and get away with it, never quite telling the truth. But that’s how to keep people at the perfect distance, how you keep up appearances and how you don’t hurt your friends.

Friends. Now that was a mixed word, even here in space. But Lance shook his head, no he won’t go down that train of thought. So instead he worked the white suit off of his body, trying to avoid the mirror but he couldn’t help himself. He looked. He stared.

The cut over his left eyebrow was a fine white line across his tan skin. Small cuts left scars, white and crisscrossing over one another all over his hands and gradually dissipating up his arms. The skin on his hands was tight but he was sure it would get better over time and his back. He nearly cried out, clamping a hand over his mouth. The skin bugled in areas and stretched too tight over others, starting at the back of his neck and reaching the middle of his back. It was pale and grotesque. The burn was horrible.

“I could be the new Hunchback of Notre Dame with this.” He half whispered to himself.

Before he could stop it tears were rushing down his face. This body was one he hardly recognized. He had always been obsessed with looks. If you look good, no one would know if you were hurting, or upset or whatever. But now there’s no hiding it. His body wasn’t his. Hot tears continued to stream down his face but he didn’t make any sound just in case someone heard. He just looked away from the mirror and let his tears fall onto the floor.


Eventually Lance came back to the dining room with a smile on his face. He had splashed cold water on his face, making his eyes less red, like he had done countless times before. Like those times before, no one took notice.

He sat himself down at the end of the dining table, Hunk putting a plate of goo in front of him. To be honest Lance wasn’t even remotely hungry but he made a show of shoving a big spoonful in his mouth. And another, and another. The team watched him with happiness and concern.

After a while of just watching Lance eat, Allura spoke up freeing Lance from the staring.

“Coran informed us that you should be fine piloting your lion with your… condition. I did not realize you had bonded with your lion so much! Do you use the blue lion’s eyes as your own? Please tell us.” She asked excitedly.

Lance swallowed before answering slightly confused at the question, “Uh, yeah. At first it was just at certain times but um before I got captured I did it every time I flew Blue. It’s a lot easier and she moves a lot better.” Lance said.

“Fascinating.” Allura said with a sigh.

“Soooo, how do you do it?” Pidge asked.

Lance looked at her surprised, “What do you mean? I thought you had it down. You know, cosmic dust and stuff?” Lance asked.

“Lance,” Shiro said, “Only you have mastered this part of lion bonding. The rest of us haven’t even gotten that far.” Shiro stated.

“Oh.” Lance said, “I had thought everyone was ahead of me.” He turned back to Pidge.

“So I guess it’s like the floaty feeling you get before you go to sleep. You kind of just let everything go and you just feel your bond with the lion. Then there’s like a snap and you’re in! Then you fly. It’s kind of like you and your lion are one thing rather than two. That’s the best I can explain it.” Lance said.

Pidge nodded and looked at the table very seriously, like if she looked hard enough then she’s be able to figure it out.

Lance turned to the rest of the group, casually pushing his bowl away even though he’d only eaten a couple bites. He folded his hands in front of him, the skin feeling different but looked at the rest of the team seriously, or more like staring at Allura.

“Princess, there are somethings that I learned on Lotor’s ship that I think will be useful to the team. I’d like to share.” Lance said.

“Lance,” Allura began, “You don’t have to discuss this so soon…”

“No, I’d like to. Maybe not my… experiences yet. But I was able to learn somethings while on Lotor’s ship.” Lance said.

Allura paused, looking into Lance’s eyes. He was quite serious, she wasn’t sure she’d ever see him this serious. She sighed.

“Yes, of course. Please tell us what you know.” She said.

Lance smiled slightly before his face became stern again.

“Prince Lotor was not very close to Zarkon. However the witch Haggar called him to take his father’s place as head of the Galran Empire.” There was a collective intake of breath around the table, “I don’t know whether this means that Zarkon is injured or dead. However Lotor was in no rush to get to Haggar. Lotor and Zarkon did not get along and Lotor has never had much interest in that kind of power. He rather do things on his own terms. But I do know this. He kidnaps species of aliens for some weird harem, his crew is not entirely Galran, and in fact most are alien pirates hired by Lotor. He also…” Lance looked directly at Allura, “He’s also obsessed with the Princess.” Lance stated.

Shiro’s head snapped, looking at Lance directly.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asked, concerned.

“He asked a lot of questions, he doesn’t have a lot of information about Voltron. Apparently Zarkon wasn’t very open to share. But he asked a lot about the lions, the castle and they’re relationship to Allura. He doesn’t understand how Allura’s bond with the lions works exactly and he really wants to find out. Also I’m not entirely sure, but did he know you Princess?” Lance asked.

Allura blanched at the question, Lance was quite perceptive. She nodded.

“I see.” Lance said, leaning back in his chair, “I also don’t know if this matters necessarily but is Lotor not completely Galran? He seems… like he’s something else.” Lance shuddered a little bit at the thought.

Allura’s eyes grew wide, “I don’t know. I never knew Lotor’s mother.” She turned to Coran, “Coran. Do you know?” She asked.

He shook his head, “No Princess, I never knew her.” He stated.  

Lance leaned forward in his chair again.

“Well, Princess. I know this will sound kind of cliché but I think whenever we get into a fight with Lotor you need to stay as far away from him as possible. Don’t leave the castle during a battle, that kind of thing.” Allura opened her mouth to protest but Lance cut her off, “Princess. You really don’t want to be captured by him.” He held up his scarred hands, “I would know.” He finished.

There was a long silence before Allura answered.

“I suppose you’re right.” She said quietly.

Another silence followed before Lance stood up, drawing everyone’s attention.

“That’s all I know, now if you’ll excuse me. I need my beauty rest!” He made a show of stretching before sauntering out of the room, leaving the rest to stare as he walked out.


Lance had fallen asleep in his bed, for an entire day. At first the team was worried but Allura told Shiro that it was to be expected with what he went through. Lance slept like a log. Shiro had checked up on him, taking a peak into his dark room. He watched while Lance’s back rose and feel in slow breaths. He felt relief to have Lance back with them.

But guilt crept up in his chest. He was fast to question Lance’s ability as a paladin. Why did he doubt him so quickly? He didn’t have an answer, he just simply watched him sleep for a bit before closing the door and going down the hall. Keith emerged from his room next door, meeting Shiro in the hallway.

“How is he?” Keith asked, looking concerned.

Shiro smiled, “He’s fine, still sleeping.” He said before continuing, “Allura said that it’s to be expected with… everything he went through.” But his brow furrowed.

“What is it?” Keith asked, slightly scared that something really was going on with Lance.

Shiro shook his head, “No, I… I was so quick to question if Lance could still fly his lion after we…” He took a breath, “We just got him back and yeah he has a disadvantage now but instead of asking how it would affect Lance… I asked how it would affect Voltron. Like I was questioning if he was even qualified to be a paladin.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“How could I do that? Even then Coran said that Lance had been ahead of us the entire time, in terms of bonding. And I realized for the second time that there is nothing I know about Lance. I just feel so guilty for questioning him and even worse for not knowing anything about him.” Shiro finished, hand falling to his side.

Keith was kind of shocked but soon he realized that he too, knew nothing about Lance. Keith put a gentle and awkward hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

“Shiro you were just asking the question that we were all wondering. It’s important for the team to discuss that kind of stuff, so it’s not your fault. But maybe we all need to put a bit more faith in Lance. I mean for Christ’s sake he blew himself up to save the rest of us. I think he deserves at least that much.” Keith let go of Shiro’s shoulder, “And in terms of knowing Lance, I realize I don’t know much either. Maybe we need to make an effort, or ask Hunk since they’ve been friends the longest.” Keith suggested.

Shiro looked serious contemplating what Keith said, he was right about everything. Keith had grown more thoughtful after Shiro had disappeared, maybe his time as leader gave him some insight. Lance deserved their respect and their trust, which was something Shiro needed to work on.

But then Shiro smiled, “Yeah maybe I’ll ask Hunk some stuff and work on getting to know Lance better. Maybe Hunk will tell me how to approach him.” Shiro nodded before beginning to walk down the hall.

“Wait up! I want to come too!” Keith said, running to catch up.


Hunk was honestly kind of shocked to be in this situation with Keith and Shiro sitting across from him asking him to give them a summary of Lance McClain’s life story. He was shocked because they had never shown any interest in getting to know Lance or Hunk for that matter. For the amount of bonding they did the origins of Lance and Hunk were a mystery. But here they were, sitting in the dining room with Hunk sitting across from both of them fidgeting awkwardly.

“So umm… what do you guys want to know exactly?” Hunk asked.

“Well let’s start with where you and Lance are from.” Shiro said, Keith quietly observing them.

“Well I’m from Samoa originally and Lance is from Cuba.” Hunk stated.

Shiro looked at him surprised, he never knew.

“How did you two meet?” Shiro asked.

Hunk smiled, “Well we were roommates our first year at the Garrison! We were both fourteen, from two completely different countries and for a while we had pretty bad accents, although mine was a bit better since English is pretty common in Samoa and we clicked.” Hunk laughed, “Lance was ridiculous and helped me out of my shell and I helped him to not get into too much trouble, or I tried anyway.” Hunk said.

Shiro smiled trying to imagine a young Hunk and Lance meeting for the first time.

“So how did you end up in the United States Garrison?” Keith asked, curious.

Hunk blinked, “Well it was pretty easy for me. Samoa is one of the countries in the exchange program. If you got a certain score on the standard testing they give you in middle school you get an invitation to apply. But Lance had a tougher time because Cuba wasn’t part of the exchange program. The economic strain on the country is pretty severe so the Garrsion felt they didn’t need people from Cuba. But Lance was pretty sneaky. So he didn’t have a computer and countries not in the exchange program have their students take this ridiculous hard entrance exam, really it’s just a way to discourage people from joining. But Lance went to local library one afternoon and just took the test. He passed with flying colors, Lance is actually really smart you know, he just doesn’t act like it. So anyway he passes the test, which was entirely in English by the way, he grew up speaking only Spanish and learned English in a couple months in order to take the test. I never asked why he did, but he did.” Hunk finished.

Shiro and Keith looked at Hunk, stunned. That was amazing. Neither of them had to take the entrance exam either but they had heard how impossible it was but Lance had been so determined that he actually passed it. They really didn’t know anything about the guy they had been living, eat and fighting with for a year and a half now.

“What else can you tell us?” Shiro asked.

“Well I don’t know much beyond that. Same as you guys. I know he came from a small town, Santa Marta, he has a huge family. I’ve met his mom before, she’s really nice and only speaks Spanish but she was super cute trying to speak English to me. But other than that, that’s all I know.” Hunk said, sounding disappointed, “Lance doesn’t like to talk about that kind of stuff because he knows he’ll get homesick. And recently he stopped talking about it all together, I mean before he was… you know. And I’ll admit that I’m a bit worried. But one step at a time, you know?” Hunk said.

Shiro nodded, “I um… feel bad that I didn’t know much about Lance. He has this way of bringing attention to himself while at the same time being in the background. I don’t know but I want to try and get to know him better. He being gone has really made me realize that I need to work and get to know everyone on the team.” He looked at Hunk, “Including you Hunk. I’m sorry I haven’t tried until now.” Shiro finished.

Hunk raised his hands, “Don’t worry about it too much, really. I appreciate you trying.” Hunk said lowering his hands. He smiled and Shiro and Keith smiled back. Finally after everything that had happened, they were starting to feel like a team again, a real team this time.

No Fighting

Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia

Word count: 1982

Characters: Edmund x reader, Caspian, Peter, Lucy, Susan

Warnings: both Edmund and Caspian being slightly douchey

Summary: You and Edmund make Caspian jealous, which makes Edmund possessive.

This meeting was dragging on forever.

It had been a while since you’d lost interest in it. Now your attention was on the way the trees outside the window turned the light a pretty shade of green, and cast dappled shadows on the floor.

Edmund couldn’t look at you, or he knew he would burst out laughing. It wasn’t his fault. Peter was just taking this meeting so seriously, and there you were paying no attention whatsoever. Your little faraway smile was so pretty, too. Plus, thinking about you was so much more interesting than thinking about whatever Peter was droning on about.

Still, at least he was kind of paying attention to Peter. So when the High King asked you a question and you didn’t respond, Edmund managed to kick you under the table and alert you.

Keep reading

Once Prisoners - Part 1 [Shiro x Reader]

Requested by anon: “Can I request a voltron imagine where the reader was rescued from the galea because when shiro “disappeared” he was transported on the reader’s ship and they travelled the galaxy together, messing with galra bc she was a prisoner too, and trying to find voltron. Then when they find voltron, the reader keeps getting hit on by everyone and lots of jealous shiro. (I love your work and change this if you want just something x shiro i love him)”

A/n: I hope I’m interpreting your request right lol. I decided this will probably be around 2 or 3 parts due to the sheer size of the request. I hope that’s okay! I’m happy about that because I’ve been dying to write some Shiro lol. Also I hope you guys like this. Let me know what you think, I’d love any feedback you all have!

Part 2 - Part 3

Warning: Season 2 Spoilers

________

Shiro wasn’t sure what was happening, all he remembered was jamming his bayard into the black lion before taking the last strike at Zarkon, then feeling the rush from the explosion. Now his head was pounding as he laid on a cold, hard floor.

Groaning he struggled to open his eyes, sitting up he observed the room. “You’ve gotta be kidding me” Shiro mumbled, recognizing what this room looked like. Once again he’s stuck in a Galra prison.

He pulled himself to his feet, feeling pain shoot through his skull. Cautiously he snuck over to the door, peering out the barred window, out of the sights of any guards. He didn’t see anyone but he heard yelling. The voice was far but he could tell what they were saying, “Let me go! Take off these cuffs and see how far you get!”

“Shut up!” A galra guard yelled before he heard an impact and a grunt. When he saw the shadows come around the corner he hurriedly backed away from the door, hiding in the shadow of the room. Holding his breath as the door opened. Watching as someone was roughly thrown in, you quickly regained your balance and charged at the door before it closed. Your shoulder ramming into it.

He noticed your wrists bound in cuffs, but they were different from any he had seen before. You slid down the door, a pained whimper escaping your throat while sitting with your back leaning against the cold metal. He heard you pant, every so often wincing. Maybe he could help, but how were you going to react when a stranger literally just popped into your cell.

“I know you’re there. Who are you?” Shiro hadn’t noticed you were looking at him until now. He choked on his words before stepping into the light, noticing how your eyes widened. “You’re the Black Paladin.”

“H-how’d you? Wait.” Shiro stopped himself, noticing the blue markings under your eyes. “Are you –” “Altean, I recognized the symbol on your chestplate. That’s how I know you’re a paladin.” You cut him off, wincing as you shifted where you’re seated.

“How are you alive? The only Alteans left are Allura and Coran.” Shiro questioned dumbfounded. You smiled at him, “Who told you that? They’re the only surviving two on the good guy’s side at least. The druids are all Altean. Haggar is Altean.”

“And you?” Shiro questioned. “Me?” An airy laugh escaping your throat, “Collateral. I was captured before they slaughtered my people and devastated my planet. I was supposed to be protecting the Princess but King Alfor wanted my skill on the front lines. Zarkon and Haggar noticed my ability to harness magic, decided I could be of use. I’ve been on ice for ten thousand years, only waking up when Voltron did. I guess they wanted to have me around incase one of their druids fell to you guys. Until then, I’ve been a pet to the commander of this ship. Your turn, who the hell are you?”

“Takashi Shirogane, or Shiro. Black Paladin, I was held on a Galra ship for a year. Forced to fight in gladiator matches. Why don’t you use your powers to get yourself out of here?” Shiro questioned making you chuckle. “If you’re going to ask so many questions at least ask my name, Paladin.”

Shiro scratched the back of his neck nervously, “Oh sorry.” You shook your head, “[F/n] [L/n], and the cuffs suppress my magic.”

“I’m going to get us out of here. The other paladins of Voltron and I have wounded if not defeated Zarkon. The empire is weakened, now’s the time to escape.”

“If you can get these cuffs off me and open this door, I’ll shine your lion for you.” Shiro didn’t say anything but only smirked, walking over he engaged his galra arm. The tech in his arm connected to the tech on the cuffs, them both being galra he easily undid the cuffs as they fell to the floor. “I was kidding about the shining your lion thing, I’m not going to do that.” You clarified, rubbing your wrists.

“I thought so, come on. My arm can open the door I think.” You followed Shiro to the door, he checked the area, seeing the guards were rotating shifts. Reaching out of the bars, using his galra hand again to unlock the door. “Okay, I’m impressed”

Shiro chuckled, “Escape pods should be this way” he pointed down the hall, “But what about your lion?”

Shiro let his head hang, “I, uh, I don’t have it. When we defeated Zarkon he had this armour and it blew when we beat him. I’m guessing the energy of it transported me here.” He explained before heading in the direction of the escape pods. “Uh, Takashi hold on.” You called to him, having a better idea than a escape pod.

Though Shiro was taken aback at the sound of his true first name. Not many people called him by it. “How about a fighter instead of an escape pod.” Smirking at the shocked man.

Turning you led him toward where the fighter ships were. You knew the ins and outs of this ship, after your multiple trips to the commander you’ve become accustomed to the layout and guard rotations. A few guards caught you both but you guys easily took them out, but Shiro noticed the strain it was having on you.

“Up there” you whispered, pointing to the guarded door. “You take the one on the left, I take the right?” Shiro nodded. “On 3” he whispered, “1… 2… 3!”

As soon as the number left his lips you both sprung into action. Before the guards even knew it you were on top of them. Shiro knocked his guy out in a single punch, while you punched yours before flipping him over your shoulder. Knocking him out with one final jab.

“Nice move” he complimented. Making a laugh escape your throat, “Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Come on, before they send reinforcements.” Gesturing for him to follow as you snuck into the ship bay.

Shiro couldn’t help but admire you. You’ve been stuck in the hands of Zarkon for thousands of years, and conscious since he became the Black Paladin. But you’re barely flinching at anything being thrown at you. You’re so strong. He’s only known you for a few hours and you’re already having such an impact on him.

“Hey, you still with me?” You snapped him back to reality, seeing as he had zoned out on you. “What? Yeah sorry, I guess I got caught up in the moment.” He smiled sheepishly.

“It’s fine but let’s reminisce when we’re away from this place” He agreed as you both continued to sneak among the ships, making your way to the ones closest to the hangar door. Finding a suitable one, Shiro used his arm to grant access and you both climbed in.

You sat in the pilot’s chair, beginning to hit switches as the ship started up, while also turning off any trackers. “You know how to fly one of these things?” He questioned skeptically. “You doubt me?” Glancing at him over your shoulder.

“No, I wouldn’t say doubt. Just curious.” He shrugged as you started up the ship completely. “We’re going to have to race these guys, when they see one of their fighter’s going rogue they’ll know something’s up. Do me a favor and man the defences.” Immediately Shiro moved over to the other chair.

“Ready?” You asked looking at him. “Ready”

Upon hearing him you flipped one last lever and took the controls. Easily flying yourself out of the galra ship. Though as suspected, the galra were hot on your trail. “Quiznack” muttering under your breath. “I’m taking evasive maneuvers. I’d start shooting if you want to get out of here on one piece.”

“I’m on it” Shiro answered, beginning to take out the ships that he could. “Come on give me a way out.” You spoke to yourself, looking for somewhere to lose them. Seeing an asteroid belt in your sights, “Hang on!” You accelerated toward the asteroids. “[F/n] what are you doing?” You looked over at him, “Do you trust me?” He stared, shocked, for a moment, not tearing his eyes from yours. However he took a deep breath, answering “Yes.”

Smiling you turned back to the controls. Flying into the mass of rocks. You’ve been flying since you were a child, it’s one of the things that made you such a superior Altean warrior. You avoided each rock easily, the galara fighters behind you crashing into the space rocks.

Making it through in one piece you threw your hands up. “We’re out, we did it” you sighed in relief, relaxing into your chair. “Nice work. You alright?” Shiro’s brow furrowed in concern.

You nodded, “Yeah fine, let’s check the map to see where we are.” Standing and going to check the map, but instead your knees buckled under you. “[F/n]!” Shiro rushed from his chair and caught you before you hit the floor. “Are you alright? Tell me the truth.”

“I-I think I just need to rest. I haven’t slept in quintents and I’m not sure of all the injuries I’ve sustained.” Shiro had to think about it for a moment before he realized that meant days. “Here let me help you.” He wrapped your arm around his neck before lifting you up. Not struggling as he carried you over to what resembled a cot.

After letting you lay down Shiro went to the map you were talking about. “Can we send out a distress beacon?” Asking himself. “If you do that it will draw them back to us. Can you remember any places you’d been before?”

“Maybe they returned to Arus?” You shifted uncomfortably, staring at the ceiling while replying “Arus will be tagged on there most likely if the Galra followed you there.”

Shiro shook his head, “They wouldn’t risk the Arusians.” “Maybe flip through galra radio channels. Pick up any chatter.” You suggested and he nodded.

“So, did you know the Princess?” He asked looking over his shoulder at you. With a soft smile you nodded, “We were best friends all those years ago. How is she?” Perching up on your elbows.

“Tough on us paladins but she’s doing good all things considered.” Shiro continued to explain as he went through the communications. “I think I have something” he said listening to one of the stations. There were galra talking about taking another planet, “I’m going to set a course, Voltron might be there.”

“Okay” saying while laying back down.

Once everything was set Shiro looked back to see you out cold. He took off his helmet and set it aside. Beginning to look around the ship for supplies. Finding food, water, and a first aid kit. Opening the kit he began to bandage and tend to any wounds he found on you before tending to his own. For some reason he felt a strong attraction to you, something he couldn’t explain.

Once finished, he sat in his chair. Eyelids feeling heavy as he too had a long day, causing him to unintentionally doze off.


You didn’t begin to stir again until a few hours later. Groaning as you woke up, noticing Shiro had taken to resting as well. Looking down at your arms taking note of the bandages. ‘Did he?’ Thinking while glancing over at him. You had to admit, Shiro’s pretty amazing. You’d heard talk of Voltron during your time stuck on that ship. Shiro being the head of Voltron only made him that much more impressive. He’s a natural born leader and caring, not to mention handsome, Allura made a good choice appointing him the Black Paladin.

Moving to the pilot seat you took over controls, heading to the coordinates Shiro had set. “I hope the rest of them will accept me the way he has.” Mumbling to yourself while continuing the flight. Glancing at Shiro again, a content smile on your face, “Yeah. I hope.” 

Did somebody say FLUFF??

No, no one did. I have no friends.

But I wrote anyways so here u have it. 



To say Yuuri was tired wouldn’t have been the proper chose of words.

No, it wasn’t enough, it needed more force, more emphasis…Exhausted? Maybe, it sounded better. But it was still incomplete. It still lacked a certain something, a certain feeling of fatigue, and maybe a few more kilos on his heavy lids…

Yuuri felt like dying.

Yes, that was the term he was looking for. Yuuri was dying.

He had never worked so hard in his entire life. Never had woken up at six, only to squeeze himself into his skating clothes and gulp down his breakfast in unhealthy speeds, and going jogging with his stomach still full for an hour to warm up his muscles. He had to make sure he was standing at the edge of the ice rink before the clock hit eight. Viktor didn’t like it when he got to the rink and Yuuri wasn’t already there, with his skates on, waiting for him.

“Back when I was a competitive skater…” he always said, as if he hadn’t retired just some months ago “…by the time you wake up in the mornings, I was already practicing quadruples and…”

The funny thing was that he spoke as if they hadn’t been married for years, and as if Yuuri hadn’t witnessed that all the stuff he said, wasn’t exactly true.

He actually missed those days when they were both still in competition. It had been barely last season, and yet it felt like an eternity of time, a way too distant feeling of warmness he could only invoke in memories.

As a coach, Viktor wasn’t nearly as fun than as a rink mate. He might have been goofy and fun, but he was actually really demanding too. He was just as obsessed with the idea of gold as Yuuri was, and he wouldn’t rest until he saw his husband on the top of the podium.

Only that, from the podium, his poor husband fell directly onto bed; trying to ingratiate with his own wretched body until his head stopped spinning and his muscles ceased burning.

After every competition, Yuuri felt drained. He wasn’t as young as he used to be. Time added candles to his birthday cakes and new noises and aches to his joints as he stretched. And he knew that, in the term of one year or two, he would be just where Viktor was right then: from the other side of the rink’s railing, standing on solid ground.

That’s why he pushed himself past his limits, too. That’s why he let Viktor squeeze more and more training into his crowded schedule, force him into a strict diet, and cut out his hours of sleep. That’s why he didn’t mind when he felt like dying.

Those may have been the last years at the sport, his sport. Their sport. And he wanted to seize them to the fullest.

However, that didn’t change he was shattered.

And it wasn’t only training what tired Yuuri out, no, it was way more than that. If there was one thing that managed to drain every drop of remaining energy from him after a long day, was dealing with paparazzi.

Don’t get him wrong, he was always very kind and answered all the questions about his routines with no complaints. There were a bunch of gossip magazines that liked to ask him on his relationship with Viktor as well, but he had also (somehow) got used to those too.

But sometimes, what he saw as he left the rink after a competition, weren’t reporters but a damn horde.

Being an introvert person, he wasn’t comfortable with being in the center of a camera circle, squished between hurried legs and bumping shoulders, with a thousand microphones pointing at his face.

He usually managed to slide away in the shadows, escape the multitude before someone recognized him and pushed him into an unwanted interrogation. But there were other days where the crowd would suck him in like the sea’s current and there were no more vital signs from Yuuri Katsuki for hours but the televised picture of his exhausted face.

That day had been one of those days.

The worst part was that, instead of answering the usual questions about his routines and his passion, he had been forced to talk about something rather intimate instead. And no, it didn’t have to do with Viktor, at all. It had to do with himself:

His retirement.

Reporters didn’t seem to mind pressing a finger on the sore. And, by the end of the day, Yuuri’s brain was suffering short-circuit.

When he finally managed to run away from the microphones and his own insecurities, he hopped onto the rented car where Yurio, Yakov and Viktor were already waiting for him to get back to the hotel. How Yurio had got away from the mob before him, he had no idea. He didn’t care, either.

Right then, with the lulling sway of the car’s engine and the heat and perfume emanating from his husband right next to him, all he cared about, was resting.

“Tough day, huh?” Viktor chuckled, as he saw him rest his head on his shoulder.

Yuuri barely hummed in agreement, feeling his lids already getting sticky with slumber, and the noise of the street beginning to fade away.

“Is he asleep? Already??” Yurio tried to get a peek of his face, but it was hard to see when it was buried so deeply onto the other’s coat. The way his shoulders were slowly raising and dropping though, together with the light snoring, were more than enough evidence “Pathetic”

Vikotr shushed him, wanting to keep Yuuri from waking up, since he felt fairly responsible for his exhaustion. He shifted his body kindly, with the delicacy and tactfulness he had only ever cared to show on the ice, wanting to make sure his husband was comfortable and that nothing interrupted his sleep.

“Lower your voice, Yura” he said, tracing his fingers through dark, gelled hair “the trip is quite long, and he needs some rest”

“Ugh, can’t you wait till we get to the hotel to be loving and disgusting?” Yurio added, turning to look through the window and away from the cuddling couple.

However, as he was about to allow his mind to get lost in the view, he heard quite an odd noise coming from behind his back.

“What’s that?” he asked, perking his ears to catch the babbling slipping through Yuuri’s dozed lips.

“Oh, he sometimes talks in his sleep” Viktor chuckled softly, the vibration of his laughter causing his sleeping beauty to move a little as he continued with his mumbling “Poor thing” he said, tucking a lock of hair away from his itching nose “he only does that when he’s really exhausted”

“What is he saying, anyways?”

Both of them made silence, attention fully set on the senseless mouthing.

“Hmm…no…I don’t….I don’t know, miss”

“Oh, he’s talking in English” Viktor said, surprised “most times he just mumbles Japanese”

“But what is he talking about?” Yurio insisted, getting nearer.

“Please no…I won’t…answer that, miss”

“He’s dreaming about the reporters, whoa, he surely is stressed” His husband debated if he should maybe wake him up, since he didn’t deserve to be troubled even in his sleep. But then he realized that would have been even worst, and decided to try another strategy instead. Slowly, he leaned in and warmly whispered into his ear: “Yuuri??”

“What are you doing?” Yurio stared, rolling his eyes at the sweet affection on the other’s voice “Didn’t you say you would let him sleep?”

However, Viktor ignored him.

“Yuuri, calm down, it’s ok” He murmured gently, watching the small, confused frown forming between his brows “Can you hear me, Yuuri?”

“I hear you, miss….but I can’t answer that question…please don’t…”

“No, Yuuri” Viktor giggled, trying to muffle the noise. Even Yurio laughed a bit, staring in disbelief “I’m no miss, it’s me”

“You…who?”

“Santa Claus” Yurio replied mischievously, and Viktor pushed him away, not missing the way Yuuri sulked uncomfortably.

“What…hmm…why does Santa…”

“I’m not Santa, babe. It’s me, Viktor”

“Vitya?”

His heart went from beating solid to boiling liquid in about two seconds.

“Yes, love. I’m here”

“Oh…thank god”

Viktor chortled, caressing his face with his knuckles, noticing how his expression began to relax.

Yurio kept silent this time, pretending disinterest, as he stared with the corner of his eye.

“Did they ask too many questions? Where they torturing you, love?” what started with sincere, kind intentions, turned into a laughing matter as Viktor tried to get advantage of  his drowsy vulnerability “Tell me, Yuuri, what happened”

The poor guy nodded in his sleep, and his husband had to bite his lip as not to squeal from the adorableness.

“They asked…many questions…I…” He mumbled, shifting a bit “…they were rude”

“I bet they were”

“Hm…but you are here…”

“Of course I am” Viktor fooled around, enjoying the whole situation much more than he really should “I needed to save you from the press, after all”

“Ah…thank you” Yuuri smiled, sinking further onto his hold “hmm…I love you”

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how Viktor Nikiforov broke.

“AIIISHH I LOVE YOU TOO” He screamed, taking his husband’s face between his hands and kissing him everywhere. Mouth, nose, cheeks, forehead…no place was safe from the assault “YOU ARE SO CUTE OH MY GOD”

“Uh?” Confused, Yuuri woke up. He blinked clumsily, batting his heavy lids, and trying to understand where he was and what was the fuss all about “What?”

“You woke him up, you fucking idiot!” Yurio complaint, pointing at the puzzled ball of slumber.

“Why is he…?” Talking and breathing were both difficult with the attack of eager kisses cutting him off “What happened?”

“Aww, Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed, rubbing their cheeks together affectionately “You just said you loved me in your sleep!”

“Hmn…don’t I say it enough while I’m awake?”

“You two are repulsive” Yurio bickered, turning back to stare at the window again “Ugh, don’t even talk to me”

“Hmm, Vitya?” Yuuri yawned “what time is it?”

“It doesn’t matter” he answered, kissing the top of his head and hugging him against his chest again “go back to sleep, love. I’ll wake you up once we get to the hotel”

“Oh…ok” he mumbled, resting his head on the other’s shoulder, and taking in a big breath “Thank you”

“You are welcome” Viktor smiled, cuddling against his sleepy husband “I love you, too”

Yes, Yuuri was tired, Yuuri was exhausted, and Yuuri felt like dying.

But Yuuri was also in love, both with the sport and with the man who had pushed him through it. And when Yuuri was in love, just like on the ice, he was unstoppable.

s p a c e m a l l | Yondu/Reader SFW

request: How about something where Yondu and the Reader meet when the Reader helps Quill find Yondu after getting lost in the space equivalent of a shopping mall and the two hit it off?


(This is seriously so cute. I decided to set it not long after Yondu first picked Peter up, since it makes more sense to me for an earth kid to get lost in a space mall lol. This also turned out different than i expected oops)

Keep reading

Reunited

Pairing:Sensitive?!Kai Parker x reader

A/N:HELLO HELLO.Hope y'all doing fine!Please send in some Kai requests,i wanna write more about him!Also,thumbs up to those who will understand that coca-cola reference!-M

Originally posted by christopherwooddaily

When Damon asked Y/N to keep an eye on Kai because him and Stefan had to leave for the day,he never really thought that she’d actually agree.Ever since he came back from hell,Y/N would always avoid Kai and when he was the subject of the conversation between her and the Salvatore brothers,she would leave the room or pretend that she had to call her sister.Neither Damon nor Stefan could tell exactly why she acted this way.They thought that she probably despised him and ,of course,they couldn’t blame her for it,the man was a psychotic murder.An evil, vampire witch.

But the truth is they were wrong and they were soon to know their friend’s real feelings towards Kai.

“So you’ll actually do it?“Damon had asked in disbelief later that evening.

Y/N nodded and smiled with confidence.Then,she turned her head to glance at the man sitting on the Salvatores’ living room couch.He looked back at her and with a huge grin on his face,he waved at her.Her smile immediately dropped.She was not ready to stay alone with him.Not at all…But not because she was scared of him.She was afraid that the walls she’d been trying to build all that time would eventually break.She didn’t want to admit she liked him.It would be so wrong…

“Yup!I mean,what can possibly happen?He’s humiliated me thousands of times in the past,he’s played mind games with me,he even threatened to kill me if i didn’t give him some of my magic.Everything is gonna be great,really…"She scoffed and shrugged her shoulders.Needless to say,she had forgiven him for everything he did to her.

“Well…” started Damon and gently patted her back,“…If you say so then i’ll get going!”

“DAMON PLEASE!“She almost shouted and grabbed his left arm tightly,not letting him leave.

”Y/N it’s only for an hour…If you need anything,just call me,okay?We’re gonna be late…"Damon insisted and opened the door.Before exiting the house he whispered in her ear “Don’t worry he likes you…”

And then he was gone.Y/N closed the door behind Damon and after taking a deep breath,she headed to the living room where the witch was sitting ,patiently waiting for her to join him on the couch.

Instead,Y/N grabbed a magazine from the table and sat,opposite of Kai,on a chair.

“Are you mad at me?“ He asked after a few minutes of complete silence.

Y/N turned page and continued reading,deciding not to answer.

“Don’t worry,he likes you…” This sentence was playing over and over in her head.Was Damon kidding?Or did Kai talk to him about her?

“Yup,you’re mad at me…"Kai’s loud realization broke her thoughts.She lightly shook her head but didn’t say anything…

“Y/N please talk to me…” He said calmly and put his hands on his knees.He wanted to know how she’s been.What she’s been doing all this time he was gone.Caring about someone was not a mutual feeling for Kai and that’s why it was difficult for him to get used to it.

“What do you want me to say?“She replied angrily,throwing the newspaper to the ground.

“I spent days crying because i thought you were dead and suddenly,here you are in front of me!What am i supposed to tell you?What am i supposed to do?” She shouted and stood up.She started pacing back and forth,anger and sadness consuming her.She’d fallen in love with the wrong person.

“I don’t know,say anything…” He mumbled and looked down.The more she raised her voice,the weaker he felt.Why she had such an effect on him,he couldn’t tell… “You treated me like i was a heartless machine and yet i mourned for you!I didn’t talk to Damon for months because of what he did to you!And the worst part is that you wouldn’t do the same for me!You wouldn’t give a damn even if i died at this fucking moment…” She completed her little speech and stopped moving.She put her hands on her face and turned her back so as Kai couldn’t see her crying softly… “Sweetheart listen to m-” He quickly stood up and tried to come closer to her but she chanted a few words that got him falling backwards,hitting the wall.

He groaned a few times before standing to his feet again.If he hadn’t merged with Luke,he’d do the same thing to her.But he was not the person he used to be.He was not a complete monster.He felt something strong towards Y/N and that was making him weak,not being able to use his powers on her.

“Please listen to what i have to say…"He tried once again.And it worked.

She turned around, removing her hands from her red eyes, coming to face him,her lips millimetres away from his.

“You drive me crazy…One moment i’m laughing my ass off,the other i cry like a baby…If it’s one of your evil spells,well,it’s working pretty well…” She almost whispered and leaned closer,their lips almost touching.

Kai felt like he was in hell again.His whole body was burning,waiting for that specific move to be made.

“It’s…It’s not a spell,i swear…”

“Good.” she said and smiled lightly.None of them could wait any longer.Y/N had missed his stupid face,his unfunny jokes,his cocky grins. Kai had missed fighting with her over useless things.He had missed staring into her beautiful eyes.

Their lips touched only for a few seconds because Y/N pulled away and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“You agree with everything i say and you didn’t-you haven’t absorbed my magic yet!What’s happened to you?”

Kai couldn’t help but smile at her words.He didn’t want to become a better person because it seemed nearly impossible. But he wanted to prove to Y/N that he was not as evil as she thought.

“During my long stay in hell,i had plenty of time to think of what i wanted to do as soon as i get back…”

“And what’s that?“She asked curiously.Oh she had no clue…

He took her hands in his and squeezed them gently.

“To find you and apologize for everything i’ve done to you in the past.And believe me, i never apologize…”

Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. This man standing in front of her was definitely not Malachai Parker…

“Should i feel special then?” She let out a laugh and tilted her head to the right

“Absolutely!“He replied and pulled her closer so that their foreheads were touching.

"I want to try this with you…I want you to help me understand all these new feelings i can’t control…”

“I don’t mind helping…"She said under her breath, her heartbeat raising second by second.

"Then how about we start now?"He gave her a cheeky grin and winked at her.

"Oh-okay…” Her cheeks were burning.Hell,he was hot.

“Great,because i really want to taste the feeling of your lips…"He said,before connecting their mouths.

"I think you owe me twenty bucks brother…"Damon said to Stefan who was looking as well through the kitchen window.

"Fine dammit…"He gritted his teeth as he put the money in his brother’s palm.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Tony is neighbors to Steve and Bucky and Tony's cat always ends up in their apartment bc she likes to nap in their dog. Sometimes Steve and Bucky's dog sneaks into Tony's apartment bc he misses the cat and Tony's sweatshirts are so comfy

I am so so so so sorry for the long wait! School was crazy, work was crazy, family was crazy. bla bla bla bla. But now the only thing that I have to do is focus on the exams. And after that I have a summer break of nearly four months, so enough time to write, before I start university. For now, I’am aiming to publish one story a week (I am still looking for a suitable day). Anyways. I present you fluff!

—————————————————————————————————-

It was really too cute. Far too cute. Sensory overload. So cute it should be illegal.

“So… I am most definitely not waking them up,” Steve said, while softly cooing at the two animals. Once again, Tony was in the new neighbors’ apartment looking at this little traitor of a cat, that was cuddling Steve’s and Bucky’s Labrador. The white fur of the Maine Coon could be seen only if you looked from the top of the two animals, so  engulfed was it in the dog, which had rolled itself in a ball as if to protect the cat. This was the sixteenth time  in a month and half that the cat snuck out of the apartment just to go and have alone time with the neighbors’ dog. 

※ ※ ※

Keep reading