it's really obvious though


Feel the bond with your lions, and your fellow pilots,
until five become one unit, and you form Voltron!


I don't know!!

Honestly thank @evananactualacornhansen and @definitely-not-a-cinnamonroll for this fic cause they helped with ideas, proofreading, headcannons, names… just go follow them ok!?

Also I live for reblogs and tags jsyk :)))

Jared walked down to the lower campus soon after the final bell rang. Squinting in the bright sunlight- despite the cloudy sky- he searched the throngs of first graders in search of Evan’s brother. Finally seeing the purple kitten backpack and head of reddish-brown curls bobbing towards the library he ran to catch up.
“Hey!” Jared smiled distractedly in the kid’s direction as he sat down next to him near a water fountain. “Have you seen your brother recently? There’s something I’d like to tell him.”
“Don’call’m’my brother,” the boy mubled quietly, eyes breifly flicking up to Jared before continuing focus on his brightly colored wristbands.
“What do ya mean he’s not your brother?” Jared asked, incredulous. “I know you have different moms, but jeez-”
“Don’t say he either!” he spoke up louder now, his golden-green eyes trained on a spot just above Jared’s nose. “‘s not a he.”
Jared suddenly looked down at the boy again, taken aback. “Sh-… should I say she?”
“Well I don’t know!” came the exasperated reply.
“Look…” Jared ventured, choosing his words carefully. He knew that his language was incorrect, but was trying to find a way to ask his question that a little kid would understand. “Is Evan a boy, a girl, or neither?”
The boy rolled his eyes and huffed.
“When do you mean? Yesterday they bought me an ice cream and they were a girl, but they were a boy when they dropped me off for school today. Last week they were neither and they were really sad about it, cause they didn’t like how they looked. But I haven’t seen ‘m all day, so I don’t know right now!” In an undertone, he added, “All day is like, forever.”
“Hey guys, what’s going on?” Evan questioned, walking over to the two boys and ruffling their brother’s hair. Turning to him and kneeling, they smiled. “How was school, Caden? Was today a good day?”
The smaller boy scuffed his foot and looked back at the ground, saying, “Jared thinks you’re a boy.”
Evan looked mildly startled, before a crimson blush began to spread over their cheeks.
“Oh! Well, Cay, I’m not right now, but I am sometimes.”
Caden beamed up at them, whispering in a confidential tone, “That’s what I was trying to tell him. I don’t think he gets it.”
Evan blushed even redder and glanced up at Jared.
“I was meaning to tell you today…” they mumbled, bouncing on their heels a bit as they slowly looked up to meet Jared’s eyes.
“Hey,” Jared said warmly, placing a gentle hand on Evan’s shoulder to steady them, “We can talk once we get Caden home. Ok?”
Evan nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling.
“Oh! But I did promise Caden we could go to the toy store… He saved up pocket money for a new stuffed toy he wanted…”
“Oh! Yeah! Of course,” Jared grinned at Evan, trying to focus on something other than their night-sky freckles.
“Ok!” Evan said, looking relieved. “Let’s go, Caden!”
Caden’s auburn curls bounced in front of Jared and Evan as he ran towards the gate, not a care in the world.
“Yeah. So. I’m genderfluid. That’s…a thing,” Evan stuttered haltingly, keeping his eyes trained on the back of Caden’s head.
“And I still lo- you’re still my friend,” Jared responded, catching Evan’s hand in his own. When they didn’t withdraw, Jared carried on, “And I also wanted to talk to you about something…”
Fingering the tiny pride flag in his pocket and walking hand in hand with Evan behind a bouncing six-year-old was the best way Jared could have expected to come out. It wasn’t even as scary as he thought it would be.


daughter of Hades|punk|feminist|Slytherin aesthetic

She was the kind of girl who
could make you think your life was
not complete unless she was in it.
— Adi Alsaid 

requested by my-bloody-blog


Atlus may have not shown him much in game but

RememberGoro2k16, he was the one who brought us news (the real mvp)

i hate it so much when im clearly upset and pushing someone away and they literally just leave?? like.. nobody ever wants to say “hey i know you dont really wanna be alone so im not gonna leave and im gonna make sure ur okay and happy before i ever do have to leave you by yourself” am i really not worth doing that for?

Story Post!

((OOC: This story was written in a roleplay style between me and @there-is-more-to-westerburg , which can explain why you’ll know the thoughts of both characters! Obviously, the thoughts/words of L/Lilith were written by her respective creator, and I wrote Stella’s thoughts/words! Enjoy!))

Keep reading

Steven Ogg was on The Walking Dead. But, Trevor wasn’t. Steven played a character named Trevor. He isn’t Trevor. He’s an amazing actor, not a specific character.

anonymous asked:

Welcome back! OwO could I request something with the junkers and mcree where their s/o has a habit of hiding their accent (something like southern) caus ethey used to get picked on for it? And it only comes out when they're rlly tired or angry? You can do head canons instead if you'd like! ❤️

[ Hello~ and of course, I would love to write that for you!! Please enjoy!! 💕 (Also, I assume the Junkers are meant to be separate? If not, please let me know, love!) ]

> Roadhog hadn’t reacted differently when his S/O happened to drawl in a thick accent when they verbally vented out their feelings to him, complaining about something rude that had happened to them that day. He’ll stay quiet as they rambled on and on, not even realizing that they had completely forgotten to hide their accent; only when they began to calm down was when they noticed, and their cheeks were sure to turn red as they slapped a hand over their mouth. “…T-that was weird. I wonder where that came from…” Though they tried to feign innocence, a knowing snort from his part sent them to groan in embarrassment, muttering something about how sorry they were for messing up in front of him. “Don’t be. It’s fine when you talk normally,” He assured, “I’ll take down anyone who says anything to you.”

> Junkrat’s eyes widened at the sound of his S/O’s tired voice laced with a certain cadence, obviously different from what he was so used to hearing, and listens to them speaking for a minute or so, trying to make sure that they actually spoke in an accent. “Oi, why are ya mouthing like that? Ya almost sound like me, lil’ rascal!” He’s quick to point out their absent mistake, much to his partner’s embarrassment, and would question why they were so secretive about it. “I’m just used to being teased about it, I supposed…” They sheepishly admit, looking more awake as they faced him with a sadden smile, which brightened just a bit when they saw how he pouted at their statement. “That so? Well, I’ll blow just ‘bout anyone up if they poke fun at ya, ya hear? Just let ol’ Junkrat take care of it!”

> McCree doesn’t take account of it for two reasons: he can’t tell the obvious difference, and he’s simply too tired to notice. Just when he’s about to doze off with his S/O wrapped up in his arms, he suddenly perks up once their voice happens to trail off, finally realizing that there’s something off about it. “Darlin’, you reckon you got a lil’ accent there?” Upon finding their hidden secret, he would be surprised to see how embarrassed they looked, even pulling away from his embrace to cover their blushing face. “You weren’t supposed to find out, I’m so sorry!” They apologized meekly, but he quickly went ahead to kiss around their hands, chuckling as he held them by the waist. “Silly, you really think it’s a bad thing? Ain’t nothing but cute, that’s what. Don’t let anyone tell you different, or just come tell me, got it doll?”



Straw Hats minimalist

for silverlodi, thank you so much again, you’re an angel

anonymous asked:

Hey so my mom went through my phone "secretly"(even though it's actually very obvious) and now I'm really scared. If it's not too much trouble could you write a small fic where Laurens keeps a diary or something and he finds out his dad read it?Thank

Hey bby! <333 I’m so sorry your mom invaded your privacy like that. That’s such an awful feeling, I know. I sure can write you a lil something! I hope this helps and that you’re doing okay, kiddo <333 A huge thanks to @ciceroniantrash for suggesting that John’s journal include drawings and for being the best Suffering Friend ™ a girl could ask for <333

John Laurens started keeping a diary the day of his mother’s funeral. After the service and burial, when friends and family were milling about back at the house, John’s maternal grandmother found him hiding away in his room upstairs, flipping through an old photo album of him and his parents when he was an infant.

“My sweet boy,” his grandmother said. She smoothed back his curls, still short in his youth, and kissed his forehead. “I have something for you.”

John looked up from the photos. He was still young enough to be enticed by the possibility of a present. His grandmother smiled at him.

“It’s a journal, but not just any journal.” She pulled it out from her purse and he eagerly flipped it open. “You see, they’re no lines. Journals don’t have to be just words, John, they can be images.” She tapped the album still open on his lap. “And I know you like to draw.”

John had filled that journal from his grandmother years ago. He’d filled five since then, in fact, roughly one a year. And now, at sixteen, he found he needed his journal more than ever. When his mother died, he could talk about it. People knew he was sad. They understood on some level what he was going through. But this? This… feeling? His journal was the only one he could confide in.

He opened up his current journal to a blank page.

Today Alexander did the cutest ever. We were sitting in the cafeteria when he decided to use the straw from his drink then steal the one from mine and stick them under his upper lip. When he grinned at me, I lost it. Laf and Herc rolled their eyes, but I could tell they were amused.

I wanted him to put my straw back so badly. How weird is that? How fucked up am I? But lunch ended and so did my fucked up dream.

He doodled Alex with the straws in his mouth from a few different angles. He was putting the finishing touches on the last one when there was a knock on his door.

He slammed his journal shut and swiveled around in his chair. The thing about knocks at the Laurens’ household was that they were never a question. They were a courtesy. His father barged in one second later.

“John, are you doing homework?” he asked gruffly. He eyed his son’s desk, squinting at the blue notebook atop a pile of papers. “You were doodling again, were you? We talked about this, John. It was good when you were a kid and your mother… passed. But now you’re a man. Men don’t handle their feelings with doodles.”

John nodded. He knew how this went. Just play along and it’ll all be fine.

“Anyway, I came up here to let you know that you need to pick Mary Eleanor up from theatre practice or whatever the hell she does.”

“When does she get out from rehearsal?” John asked.

His father waved his hand dismissively. “I think five. I don’t know. The driver has always gotten her.”

John wanted to be angry, but he just sighed. He wasn’t even going to ask why the driver couldn’t get her today. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Mary Eleanor knew someone in the family cared about her.

“Okay, I’ll leave now,” John said.

His father nodded and left the room without another word or glance. John sank back down in his chair and put his head in his hands. It was going to be a long evening. He could feel it already.


“And that’s when I said, ‘Paul, get that curtain off of you! This isn’t The Sound of Music!” Mary Eleanor chattered as she and John walked into the house.

John shook his head, his face sore from all the smiling he’d been doing around his sister for the past half hour. At first the smile had been for show, but that never lasted long around Mary Eleanor. She had an uncanny ability to make John laugh, no matter how he was feeling.

“Niños, hice su cena. Su padre tomó su cena en su oficina.” The cook was bustling past John and his sister, clearly in a hurry. John had seen this kind of hustle before. It meant his father was in a sour mood.

“Gracias, Señora Marquez,” John replied.

John turned to Mary Eleanor. “Lava tus manos,” he said. She scampered off to clean up.

The dinner was already served, the table set. Normally it was left under a dome on the counter. His breath hitched. His father was clearly in a really bad mood.

Mary Eleanor bounded into the dining room and took her seat. John didn’t get to do the same.

“John? John!” his father hollered from his office. “Get the hell in my office this instance!”

Mary Eleanor looked up at her brother with wide eyes. He mustered up a smile for her before walking to his certain doom. As soon as he found himself on the threshold of his father’s office, he saw it.

His journal.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

His father looked up at him, no, glared, up at him. John had never seen a true glare before that moment. He swore his father’s eyes were glowing red, though he knew that part was just in his imagination.

“Do you care to explain this abomination to me?” His father growled. He grabbed the journal from his desk and flipped it open. “‘Alexander is the best person I know. The way his hair curls at the top of his head in the humidity, those tiny little curls like a halo, and his laugh, his genuine laugh, and his energy, his ability to write… I admire him. I love him. There, I said it. I love Alexander Hamilton.’”

When his father looked up from the journal, his face was bright red. “Explain,” he demanded.

“It seems like you already know.” John prayed the fear he was feeling didn’t show in his voice.

“If this is true, you’ll find yourself in a position you won’t like one bit, son.” Henry Laurens stood up and walked up to his son. He shoved the journal into John’s chest, hard. “So before you answer me, I suggest you take the evening to think it over.”

John saw his life flash before his eyes. His mother, Mary Eleanor, his father before politics became his life following the death of his wife… And he saw his future. Alexander. Alexander. Alexander.

“Dad,” John stepped forward and looked directly into his father’s eyes. “I’m gay.”

His father’s eyes widened in shock. “I told you to think this over, John!” he shouted.

“I don’t need to,” John said, his voice growing stronger with every word. “I know who I am. And if you have a problem with that––”

“Of course I have a problem with that! I thought I raised you right. I didn’t think I raised you to be a…” he looked John up and down, as if gay was oozing off of him now. “A disgrace.”

John simply nodded. “Fine. I’ll leave for the night. I’ll see you after school tomorrow.” John left his father’s office without another word and quickly ran up the stairs to grab his school books and a change of clothes.

Mary Eleanor wordlessly appeared in his doorway. “John? What happened?” Her voice was trembling.

“Dad and I just had a fight, Ellie. It’s okay.” He swung his backpack over his shoulder and gave her a hug.

“Where’re you going?”

“Alexander’s. I’ll be back after school tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she whispered, looking down at the floor.

“Hey, if you need me, call, okay?”

She nodded. John kissed the crown of her head.

He ran out of the house, ran away from his father who was screaming for him to get back in the house this instance or else! He called Alex on the way. He picked up on the third ring.

“J-Law, what’s crackin?”

John rolled his eyes. “Never call me that again.”

“Okay, I’ll cross that off the John Laurens Nickname List then.”

“Um, hey, Alex?”

“Um, hey, yeah?”

“Can I stay the night with you?”

“John, of course. Is everything okay?”

John thought over how to answer that for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Get over here and we’ll talk,” Alex said.

“Yeah,” John said, a smile spreading across his face. “Thanks, Alex.”

“John,” the other boy said, tone serious. “You’re the closest friend I got. I’d do anything for you.”

“Thank you, Alex, I’ll see you soon.” John hung up the phone and sucked in a deep breath before whispering to the air. “Oh, and Alex? I’m in love with you.” He took off in a sprint toward Alex’s, everything he’d never told the other boy propelling him forward.

He didn’t know how Alex would react to his confession, or what his dad would say come the next day. But he knew one thing. He was finally being true to himself, and that was something they could never take away.