no wonder i loose my life there and never find husband

NHL!Bitty, Part XII -  ‘A Stanley Cup Wedding’

The Schooners win game seven and dethrone the defending champion Falconers to claim Seattle’s first national title. 

Eric was definitely not expecting Jack to propose immediately after losing.

(A rework of the ‘Game 7 PVD vs SEA’ prompt that totally retcons some NHL!Bitty stuff, so timeline-wise: the Falconers took the cup Eric’s second year with the Schooners. The Schooners win the following season.)

NHL!Bitty Masterpost




Game Seven. Third period. Eric’s running on adrenaline, blue Gatorade, and rage.

Jack and the rest of the Falconers first line are racing to catch up, but Eric is ‘criminally fast’ (thank you ESPN for the lovely descriptor), and it’s almost too easy to whip the puck to Carter and wait for the siren.

Snowy can’t stop it. The Schooners will win in regulation. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Eric sees Morin’s breakaway as the death knell of his relationship. He has flashes of Freshman year and he thinks ‘Jack is going to hate me’.

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

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cryptidsanonymous  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this


Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.

~

Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”

~

Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?

~

There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.

~

Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”

~

She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.

~

Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.

~

Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.


gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

FP Jones/Andrews family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 9

Originally posted by riverdalesource

AN: This chapter is a little different… It’s also a little short so I may release the next chapter a little earlier than Friday. 

(Part One) (Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)(Part Five)(Part Six)(Part Seven)(Part Eight)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 1,335

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, none really

Before homecoming…

FP watched you leave the trailer with a unconscious smirk on his lips. 

You really were something else. 

He turned to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, he had to be at Alice Coopers in an hour and if he was honest, he was kind of nervous. 

He knew Alice. He knew that this wasn’t just some social gathering to bring the Cooper/Jones family together but he said he’d go since Jughead seemed so damn excited about it. And in the end, he didn’t care that much about Alice’s intentions as long as his son was happy.

And your surprise visit was enough to encourage him to get through the rest of the evening. Knowing that you would be at the Whyte Wyrm in a pair of combat boots and black washed jeans that clung to you so tightly was enough to help FP through the night. 

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An Arranged Marriage Chapter 6

Dean Winchester x Reader

1200 words

Story Summary: An AU of sorts. Where hunter’s have communities, and arrange marriages for their young. Y/N is from the Northwest region, arranged to marry Dean, from the midwest region.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“I’m an Angel.” He stated, narrowing his eyes as he stared your way. “And you’re Y/N. I’ve heard about you.”

“An Angel?” You questioned, still shrinking into the corner of the car, your heart beating furiously at the stranger who had just magically appeared in the car. “They’re just myths, and what has been said about them is nothing good.” You muttered, narrowing your eyes as he stared your way.

“I assure you, I’m not a myth. But as for the other part, there are certain Angels who do more harm than good.” He told you.

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My Dearest

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on „Imagine Loki’s reaction when you go to visit him in his cell for the first time. He’s expecting you to be happy to see your husband again but instead you start yelling and swearing at him. That’s when Loki remembers why he married you – you always speak your mind.” by @imaginemarveluniverse

[Masterlist]


If the storm could take the form of any imaginable thing, you would be its first choice.

You only needed one icy glance at the guards to be let inside the prison that was located in the cold depths of the palace. They must have been warned though, that you might want to make a visit to one of their newest inmates, that just happened to be your husband. Who had promised, even swore on his life that he would not try anything until you came back from your trip. And the same one who should have been sitting on his ass, politely killing some time. Time, not people.

The frigid claws of fury closed around you. You felt your magic flowing through your veins and it probably showed a little, but at the time, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Where is he?” you growled to the closest guard, who was standing at the corner of a long corridor full of cells. You didn’t even have to say who you were looking for, as everyone in the kingdom knew about the most recent events.

The man visibly paled, forcing himself to stay still and not take a step back from your fierce figure as if you could scald him with a single breath.

“This way, on the left side,” he said, not looking you straight in the eyes.

“Thank you, darling.”

Loki frowned, a crease forming between his eyebrows, when he heard an unexpected noise from the other prisoners. The guards kept an eye on them most of the time, not letting anyone start any riots.

He stood up from his small cot, not capable of holding back his curiosity, and moved to the edge of his cell, buzzing from the energy keeping him inside. Loki’s mouth formed a wide smile the moment he recognized your silhouette. It’s been months since the last time you met due to your trip, and he almost forgot how stunning you could become with loose locks of hair flowing behind you and a confident look adorning your features, just as if you owned every marble stone you were stepping at. You were a princess even before he married you.

Loki opened his mouth.

“Shut it before you even start or I may lose the tiny bit of self-control I still have left!” you snapped, taking him off guard.

If one could set people on fire with a mere  glare, you would definitely master this ability. Two guards stopped a few feet from you, not sure if they should interfere or not.

You didn’t care.

“I come back home after a very long, very lonely trip, expecting at least a warm welcome, maybe  a feast or a fancy dinner, and what do I get instead? The whole palace is talking only about my dear love, who came up with a brilliant idea of treason, mass murder, and starting a regular war on the Earth. Did I forget about anything? Oh, right. You didn’t even bother to tell me anything!” you shouted out the last sentence, shutting up the whole corridor. Every prisoner was looking at your fragile little figurine in a wonderful dress that didn’t hide your true self anymore.

Loki smirked. He missed you.

“Darling, I don’t think it would be a good idea to write out plans like that in a simple letter…”

“But you think it’s okay to not even inform me of your plans, so I have to hear everything from your own mother, your brother, and all of my servants?!” your voice echoed through the stone walls.

“This is not a good place for a conversation like this…”

“Really? What a surprise – I actually thought that being a prisoner meant no leaving your cell. I’m so stupid, aren’t I? I made the same mistake as last time, when I thought being together meant no secrets!”

Loki took a deep breath, raising his hands in a calming gesture, even though he would calm down a real storm easier than you. Feeling all eyes on the two of you didn’t help either.

“I made some mistakes, I’ll admit,  and I am truly sorry for what happened…”

“You are only sorry because you didn’t succeed,” you shook your head.

“I am not…”

“Don’t you even start with those sad eyes, I’m over it!”

Loki wanted to say something, but stopped. You were mad at him and you had every right to be. But  at the same time, you still loved him – Loki could see it in the way you looked at him, in the way you clenched your fists and in the way your lips trembled. And you were his, with your anger, your fierceness and your honesty. You would never lie to him and that’s why you felt so betrayed by his behavior.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a different tone.

You threw him a furious look.

“We are not done yet.”

“I know. Thank you for that.”

The Glow of a New Sun: Part I

__________________________

Helion was quick to embrace Nesta once she, Feyre, Rhys, and her mate winnowed to the location of the shower. A courtyard overlooking the Sidra, which sparkled in the midday light of late June.

“How I’ve missed you.” Helion admitted, pulling away and taking in the view of her in the dress he had Rhys deliver that morning. She was a lovely sight to behold. Her round belly being just one of the stunning features that made it impossible to not stare at her. A smile spread across Helion’s full lips as he lowered his head in a bow. “So many changes since we last saw one another. My dear, you have the glow of a new sun.“

Without skipping a beat, Nesta hugged her middle and responded in a feigned sweet voice, “And the density of a dying one.”

Cassian’s body shook with a silent laugh as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Tilting his face closer to hers, he muttered, “That’s my girl,” before dodging the foot she meant to stomp on his.

Helion seemed pleased to find the emissary still delivering whip-smart comebacks. Turning to Cassian, he looked him up and down, saying, “You’re looking quite well today, Commander.”

It was true. Cassian looked good. Nesta had braided his hair back and put it in a bun. The white shirt he wore was thin enough that every muscle, every tattoo clearly visible. His pants loose, but fitted in all the right places. His wings… They either glimmered from the sunlight or from being cared for in the shower he shared with Nesta just hours ago. “Dreamy,” was the exact word Nesta used to describe him. It was not, by any means, an exaggeration.

Feyre and Rhys shifted uncomfortably at the threesome and left to join Elain and others as they organized presents. Tall stacks of perfect white boxes; only to be offset by an emerald colored and poorly wrapped lump with an obscenely large bow tied around it.

Helion extended a hand and boldly asked, “May I?” He looked at Nesta, then to Cassian as he spoke. Genuine wonder etched on his immortal face.

Nodding and looking to Cassian whose face shone in pure pride, Nesta took Helion’s hand in her own and pressed it on her bump.

Seconds passed before anything happened…

And then…kick.

So hard and sudden that even Nesta jumped, causing Helion to remove his hand and back a step.

“Well,“ Helion chuckled and cocked his head. “I should’ve known that any child would be quite the powerful one with the two of you as it’s parents.”

It’s all from her, Cassian thought, but didn’t say.

Instead, he smirked and drawled, “Powerful indeed.” Squeezing Nesta’s hand, he extended the other for Helion to shake, who took it smiling. “You haven’t considered, Helion, the possibility that my child just doesn’t like you.”

Nesta snorted and shook her head at the drama. Cassian wasn’t normally territorial. He would whoop any brute who disrespected her, sure. But Helion was never disrespectful to Nesta. However, Helion made him tick and knew exactly which buttons to press. A fact which he proved on multiple occasions.

A miraculous save as what would’ve blossomed into an even more awkward conversation, Mor and Amren appeared at Nesta’s side.

•••

Looking at Nesta’s protruding abdomen as if it were a globe, Amren seemed equally enamored and concerned. “When do I get to meet the puppy?” She looked up at Nesta and Cassian, who only blinked in response.

“Soon.” Mor assured her tiny friend. “But not soon enough,” she added with a wink.

Nesta’s friendship with Mor had taken time to build. But they were now friends. They’d stood alongside one another through too much for it to be otherwise.

Studying the intimate group, Nesta’s eyes searched for the person she was missing. If she hadn’t worried about falling, she would’ve gone on her tiptoes. Would’ve looked behind every hedge and statue.

Cassian and Helion both frowned at the tears that rimmed Nesta’s eyes. Mor offered a cookie, which she did not take. Even Azriel and Elain tried their best to distract Nesta from her thoughts by suggesting she sit and discuss possible baby names.

Cassian knew the words she thought without her saying them aloud.

“If he could be here, he would be.” Rhys smiled kindly at Nesta and led her to stand in the shade of the willow tree with him.

Cassian followed them. Trailing behind by just a step. Grasping at the billowy fabric of her dress.

Since she conceived, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. Nor could she bear for it to be any different.

•••

Under the tree and out of the light, Nesta leaned into Cassian. If it wasn’t so warm, he would’ve wrapped his wings around her.

Nesta wanted to smile. She was pregnant with the child of her mate and husband. And they were more blissfully in love than ever. Her best friend in the whole world was there, too. And he had organized the entire day for them, for her. To celebrate the life that would soon be brought into the world.

But there was still a part of her that wanted to cry because-

“Hey, you.” Putting hands on either side of her face, Cassian kissed her forehead. “I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. He would be here, you know. Especially after what-” Tugging a short golden curl, he shivered at the memory that would haunt the five involved for the rest of their days.

“You don’t have to stay,” Rhys interjected, not wanting to be reminded either. “Helion would understand. And I’m sure Mor and Amren would get over it once the baby is born.”

For a brief moment, Nesta considered the offer. Rhys’s words were true. It would be hard for them to be irked with a pregnant woman. Even harder to be irked at a woman holding an infant who was sure to have quite the personality and head full of hair.

“I’m staying.” Her word was final. She straightened her tattooed back, solidifying her resolution. “We will have a perfect day.”

Peering over to the gathering that resumed in their absence, Nesta knew she was right. They would be surrounded by the people they love.

Most of the people they love.

“Ready to waddle back and join the celebrations, sis?” Rhys flashed a grin at the reaction she never failed to give at the nickname.

“I’ve never once waddled in my life.”

Finding Cassian’s hand, she interlaced her fingers with his and led him to continue what was sure to be a perfect day. Despite the emerald piece of her heart that ached.

Cinderella

Thinking about that Sleeping Beauty retelling where it’s a gay prince who’s put to sleep until true love’s kiss wakes him, and imagining other variations on fairytales - now I want a trans Cinderella retelling. Think about it.

Cinderella shut out of the family, away from the public eye, because she won’t wear boys’ clothes or let anyone call her Jonathan, and her stepmother won’t see her as Lucinda. Her sisters’ mocking when they find her dressing up in their old gowns, the child they’ve thought of - reluctantly - as a little brother. The nights she curls into her blankets in the empty kitchen, staring blankly at the fading embers, wishing for anything but this.

And then the night of the ball, she sees a shooting star and makes a wish in the garden, and her fairy godmother appears. Spins her tattered shirt and ash-smeared trousers into a beautiful gown. Pulls her hair into an elegant up do, for the first time in Cinderella’s life, because she hasn’t figured it out herself, and certainly no one else has ever been willing to show her. Takes a few minutes to practice dancing in the garden, with the godmother leading (in vest and breeches, long hair in a simple ponytail, top of head just reaching Cinderella’s chin - once those beautiful glass slippers are on her feet), so Cinderella can know what it feels like to dance backwards in high heels.

At the ball she hangs back, worried that she’ll see her stepmother and her sisters (though, she realizes, they might not even recognize her like this). Knowing there are a thousand other girls who (she thinks) have a real chance with the prince. It’s not even about him, truly - the important thing is that she gets to be herself for a night. But then she does catch his eye, from clear the across the room, right over the heads of all those noblewomen who came here in search of a husband. The prince walks forward, the men bow, the women curtsy. Cinderella moves a beat later than the others because she has to remind her body to perform the gesture she usually practices alone in the attic, not the one she’s always been forced to do in public. And just before she lowers her eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment over her misstep, the prince grins at her. Seconds later, he is taking her hand and asking her to dance.

They dance, and talk, and laugh. The time flies. It’s the most wonderful, magical, amazing night of Cinderella’s life. She could have sworn she was paying attention, but somehow she’s lost track of time, and the clock begins to strike midnight. And she runs, completely heedless of her shoes and her dress and her hairdo, because in a few seconds she’s going to be without any of those things anyway, and the prince will see her as she’s not, and that can’t happen. She trips, twists an ankle, loses a shoe, but doesn’t stop. Not until she’s back in her magicked coach, and then home, in her trousers and shirt, in her attic, sobbing. 

The next day, all her sisters and stepmother can talk about is the mysterious woman who danced with the prince. Tall, and beautiful, and no one had ever seen her before. “Like a goddess,” says the kinder of her sisters, and the meaner one scoffs while Cinderella herself barks out a short, harsh laugh that she tries to turn into a cough. 

The day after that, of course, comes the announcement that the prince still has one of Cinderella’s shoes. Throughout the kingdom, girls line up to try on the shoe, but it fits none of them. When the royal entourage reaches Cinderella’s family’s estate, she herself is in the attic, trying on an old dress she’s altered to fit herself - though she’s fighting back tears, fearing that she’ll never again have the chance to be herself in public. The kinder of her sisters has seen it, and raised an eyebrow, but apparently she hasn’t told. 

In the parlor, the two sisters try on the shoe, each in turn. “It’s too big,” whines the meaner one, and she crosses her arms angrily. “Perhaps the mysterious lady was wearing three pairs of socks.” 

The kinder sister stops, blinking. She remembers her youngest sibling, years ago - before her stepfather died - wearing three pairs of socks and trying on her mother’s shoes, swaying in the dressing room to music no one else could hear. She remembers the old dress, her step-sibling’s long fingers stitching late into the night. She remembers the mysterious lady, tall like a goddess, eyes shining like she had just seen the key to the universe. And she puts it all together. 

“Wait!” she shouts, jerking her leg away from the slipper they’re moving toward her foot. “Wait. I won’t fit that shoe. But I know who will.”

As she runs up the stairs, the whole entourage follows - the stewards, the footmen, the prince himself, along with her mother and sister. 

From her attic, Cinderella hears shouting, and running footsteps, and her stepmother’s shrill voice. “Don’t listen to her. It’s nothing, I promise-” 

And then the prince interrupting (and here Cinderella’s heart flutters, knowing he’s so close, and yet so far): “Let her show me.”

“My son-” says her stepmother.

“My other sister-” says the kinder sister.

“What?” says the mean sister.

And the door bursts open.

Cinderella would have changed out of her dress; or brushed her hair, washed her face, shaved; or jumped out the window, but there wasn’t time. So when the door opens, she’s standing in the middle of the room in a patched dress, hair loose around her shoulders, face stubbly and tear-streaked, holding one glass slipper.

The crowd of people stop abruptly, just inside the door. For a long moment, no one speaks, or even moves.

Then the prince comes forward, takes the other slipper from the steward charged with carrying it, and crosses the room. He bows, takes Cinderella’s free hand in his, and kisses it. Then he holds out the slipper, so it’s beside the one she’s still holding, and says, “Madam, I believe this is yours.”

She’s so startled, the slipper she didn’t lose slides from her fingers and crashes onto the wooden floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. 

By then it doesn’t matter. Her prince is right there, looking at her with a stupidly besotted grin on his face. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I’m not usually-” she begins, and then stops, unsure how to finish the sentence. She gestures, futilely. 

“You’re you,” he says. “Lucinda. That’s all that matters.”

Then she’s in his arms, and they’re kissing, and laughing with joy, while everyone else gapes. But he’s right: she’s Lucinda, and nothing else matters.

And they live happily ever after.

Impuissant

a/n: Leggy drabble, while the leggy mood in me is still going
summary: Winter’s ball, Angelica and Eliza are making their moves. Peggy finds herself on her own but not alone. Musical-canon time.
w/c:3100


“Margarita!…Oh where is that lazy lil…” Hard heels banged against the wooden steps of the brick face home. An aunt housing three beautiful, single young ladies in hopes to help them or let her stubborn brother make miserable misses out of the Schuyler girls. “Angelica, where is your sister?”

 “Peggy?” Angelica tapped her finger for a moment, “depends, have you checked the kitchen? She could be washing the pots…”

 “The po—she is most definitely not…” The elderly woman turned up her wrinkled frown and huffed. “If she’s not in this home in the next hour, the only ball she’ll be seeing is the ball of my heel while she scrubs my feet.” The grumpy aunt turned and bounded back down the stairs towards the kitchen. Careful not to trip or over work her tired knees. Angelica slowly exchanged glances with Eliza, both woman dressed and perfumed for the night. Both of them knew what this night could be, they could be staring into the eyes of their future. It highly depending on this winter ball going as according to plan, if only one of them had taken this a touch more…seriously.

 “Angelica…” Eliza quickly whispered to her sister’s side just in case the old auntie of theirs was still listening by the stairwell. “Peggy isn’t in her room and I highly doubt she’s doing any such chore at the moment” Concern laced her soft melodic notes, Angelica shrugged a little.

“I did nothing but by her time…” That was all anyone could do for Peggy. The third sister, the youngest, the one who had more liberties than most because the weight of reality did not touch her. Not to mention if it was their father’s choice they would all be man-less women living under his roof for the rest of his days. “…Get her ready, I’ll stall auntie” Angelica fluffed up her hair for a moment and called out. “Auntie, will you tell me how was it you managed to entice your husband? I do wish to get some pointers.” Angelica rolled her eyes and bounded down the stairs.

Between both girls, Peggy’s adventuring was put on the backburner of their minds. Sure a summer ago she was wry about being in the city. She heeded all of father’s warnings but now? Now the city was filled with so much wonder and newness. She walked around the outside of the home having taken a stroll in the chilly air by heel. “It will snow…” She bit her lip containing a small giggle. “How romantic.”  She scampered back inside, through the backdoor. She shimmied her way to the kitchen where her aunt was talking to Angelica, their backs to her. Angelica eyed Peggy and motioned for her to get upstairs while she laughed right on cue to one of her aunt’s words. With hast, Peggy started tiptoeing up the stairs, all the while her eyes behind her in case she was caught. She would hate to have her wrists smacked for leaving again; surely their aunt had planned to make a hole in her joints from how many times she would slap Peggy’s wrists for misbehavior. By the time she got to the top, a pair of hands grabbed her and yanked her into the bedroom. “Eliza!”

“Shh, be thankful Angelica has a way with words or else those delicate knuckles of yours would be…” she glanced down at Peggy’s hands, they were pale, nearly blue. “…how long were you outside for Peggy?”Eliza’s motherly worries began to shine. “Never mind, there is a bucket with some warm water, warm your hands while I get your dress.”

“Dress?” Peggy watched as Eliza threw open a wardrobe and pulled out a yellow dress with quarter sleeves and long lace trim, a dress her father got for her from one of the few French ships that snuck past the English navy. “Where are we going?”

Eliza stopped in her tracks and arched an eyebrow, “You really weren’t listening last night? Angelica got invited to a Winter’s…ball by some New York rebels staying the week, auntie thinks it’s high time Ange finds herself a husband.”

“HA.”

“And we are to escort her.”

“I repeat, HA.” Peggy snorted a bit but there was no laughter from Eliza. “Angelica isn’t going to marry some rebel! None of us will, daddy won’t approve…he never approves.”

“If there is any of us that has a chance its Angelica.” Eliza muttered smoothing out the dress as she laid it on the bed. “She is smart, educated, mature, demure, and stops heads of men who are miles away in their carriages. If anyone is going to convince daddy…”

“Daddy never approves…” she pouted a little, “no use getting our hopes up right?”

“Right. Now get dressed, our carriage is coming in an hour!”

Peggy stared at the dress as Eliza left to tell their aunt Peggy was in the midst of getting dressed. Her eyes looked over the summery yellow then turned to the small circular window and smiled. “Its most definitely going to snow.”

The carriage bumped along the cold cobblestone streets downwards the grand hall were various horses and music could be heard from blocks away. “My bun is too tight…” Peggy shifted uncomfortably against the very edge of the riding bench.

“Oh Angelica, look, so many horses are parked up there …do you hear the music?” Eliza beamed, almost forgetting this night was not for her. She stuck her head out some more into the night hair and squealed. “So excited, I haven’t danced in ages!”

“I think one of you laced my corset too tight too, I feel like my ribs are breaking” Peggy shifted again, this time her body was thrown up with a particularly hard bump in the rode and the top of her head met the carriage ceiling. “owowowow”

“Peggy stop messing around.” Eliza whispered, leaning back towards the window. Peggy stuck her tongue out at Eliza, slowly meeting Angelica’s judgmental stare. She retracted her tongue and pouted as she looked out her window and watched as the gray clouds gathered along the bleak sky. Their carriage parked itself by the sidewalk leading up the hall. The footman came around and helped the three ladies out and reminded them they had strict instructions to be out in four hours.

Peggy groaned slouching as they walked towards the Hall. Suddenly she felt an arm go around her shoulders and give her a squeeze. “Angelica—“

“Your bun is fine, your corset is hardly tight you can’t even see your bosom.” She smirked, “and you’ll have fun.” She read her youngest sister like a book. “Forget about what Eliza told you, don’t worry about me or what I am intended to do. Have…fun, Pegs” She kissed the top of Peggy’s head and fluffed up the small bun that held only half of her volumes hair. The other half was left loose in thick, cascading curls.

The three girls entered the warm hall; already the smell of ale and the music filled their senses immediately. Just as fast as the men standing around the entrance became aware the Schuyler sisters had graced their ball for the night.

“Keep your wits ahead of you girls, the men here are hungry rebels who will not think twice in taking some poor girl to the barn out back.”  Angelica smirked knowingly. 

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Game of Thrones Fic Rec: Sansa Stark

Powerful is Sansa Stark - a fighter and survivor, her ability for self preservation is unmatchable. Years of torment, yet Sansa has not broken. Her scars give her leverage, standing tall and strong in her conviction and actions. A true Lady of North, for she, like all Starks, knows winter is coming.


  • Sansa Stark x Jaime Lannister
    • The Eyes See True*: Tyrion’s escape plan for Jaime is successful, and he leaves Riverrun without having made a vow to return Catelyn Stark’s daughters. He arrives immediately after the Battle of Blackwater and learns the truth about Cersei much sooner. Joffrey and Sansa are still engaged. How will his presence change events?
    • The Lion and the Wolf*: What would happen if, instead of Tyrion, Sansa Stark is wed to the other brother? If she can win him, can Sansa use Jaime Lannister to influence his own family? Or, better, will he keep his oath and take her home? Jaime L./Sansa S.
  • Sansa Stark x Joffrey Baratheon
    • A Caged Songbird*: “I will be a silent, and dutiful wife,” Sansa spits. “I will be their pretty little songbird, and wear their ugly crown, and sit on their painful throne. I shall give him a babe, and my love, and I will wait until he thinks that he has won. And then I shall take his life.“ Shae goes still. "You … you plan to kill the King?” “No,” Sansa says. “I plan to kill my husband.”
    • Heart of a Lion: Good Joffrey! Got your attention? Basically this is ‘what if Robert had Joffrey fostered by Ned? The result is a somewhat decent Joffrey, who regards the Starks as his family, genuinely loves Sansa, is at odds with his mother who only wants (what she perceives as) what’s best for him. Despite this, all hell breaks loose anyways.
    • The Northern Lion: King Robert knew nothing good would come of his son inheriting the Iron Throne if he kept behaving the way he did. After the last straw of Prince Joffrey’s petulant and violent behavior, King Robert sends the unusual five year old to be a ward under House Stark. If anyone could fix the Future King of Westeros, it would be Eddard Stark.
    • The Thrill and the Hurting*: Sansa slips into shadows. She can play Joffrey’s games or perish on his horrific playground. She realizes she must invent a new persona to suit her mad king’s desires. Joffrey is plagued by unsettling flashbacks that may explain his gruesome hobbies. As the memories become more vivid, he must face a very dark secret he repressed during childhood. Now they play in shadows. Together.
  • Sansa Stark x Margaery Tyrell
    • Rose Fangs and Wolf Thorns*: “'Valar morgulis,’ they say,” Margaery murmured. “But we are not men, my Sansa. And we are survivors."Margaery marries Joffrey, and becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa remains.
  • Sansa Stark x Oberyn Martell
    • A Red Wolf Emerges*: There is a chance to escape the monstrous place she used to call home. There is a chance to break free from the vile animal that is her husband. A wolf gets away from the hold of the men who flay, and finds solace in a city full of snakes.
    • Vengeance is Ours*: Armed with a common vengeance, it would seem that now is the best time for the Wolves of Winterfell to be allied with the Vipers of Dorne. If this was what it took to see the realm renewed from the hold of the Lannisters, this is the gamble that Robb Stark would take, even if the price was to have his sister Sansa wedded to the Red Viper himself.
    • Revelations: "She has night terrors. It relaxes her to sleep where I am, and as I am needed at my desk most nights, she’s taken to sleeping in the armchair. An innocent notion, I assure you, King Robb.”
  • Sansa Stark x Petyr Baelish 
  • Sansa Stark x Podrick Payne
    • i love a maid as white as winter: She moves too quickly for him to react, but suddenly, her hand is on his chin and her lips are pressed against his cheek. The gesture fills him up like Arbor gold, a sip of summer in an instant, a sample of something more.
    • Game of Thrones: After the Trials*: Podrick suffers a hard life, bullied at school by Joffrey for things beyond his control, he suffers daily. Sansa also suffers at Joffrey’s hands, as his 'girlfriend’. When events spiral out of control, the two begin to discover their feelings for each other and begin to wonder if they can truly be together and see Joffrey brought to justice.
  • Sansa Stark x Sandor Clegane (The Hound)
    • A Lightness*: Sandor never left during the Battle of the Blackwater. Stannis was defeated and killed. Robb returned to Winterfell to take back his home. He married Roslin Frey and there was no Red Wedding. Joffrey did not die at his wedding. Robb waited for the right opportunity to take Joffrey down. For Sansa, there was only waiting. Waiting for someone to take her from King’s Landing… waiting for the rest of her life to begin. (Complete)
    • A Song of Steel*: Sandor Clegane embarked on a quest to find his brother, but so far all he’s found is a lost little bird - and a big problem.
    • Always Find Me Here*: Joffrey makes them do it - again, and again, and again. (Complete)
    • Broken Wing*: Sansa is broken beyond repair. (Complete)
    • Come Morning Light*: “I lit a candle and I prayed for you,” Sandor rasped. “I prayed that you’d hate me and forget me, forget this face. And I’ve been praying it ever since. Get that in your pretty head, girl. I lit a fucking candle, and I prayed for you.” (Complete)
    • Cut if out and then Restart: After the Battle of Blackwater, Sandor takes Sansa to Riverrun and joins the Starks; Yet the road to redemption is never a simple one, nor is it an easy thing to change one’s fate. (Complete)
    • Her Liquor’s Top Shelf*: Sansa Stark has had an easy life as a normal teenager until she gets embroiled in the life of Sandor Clegane, a man who seemingly has a simple life himself of owning and running a bar. Clegane has a dark past, though, and he owes debts. When his old boss comes calling on those debts, Sandor can’t say no. Under the guise of being a nightclub owner, Renly Baratheon runs half of the city against the likes of the corrupt politician, Tywin Lannister. The balance of power is shifting, though. Jaime Lannister, who has broken the law under his badge, turns his eyes onto Sandor. Meanwhile, Renly turns his eyes onto Jaime and the entire Lannister family. What results is a war unleashed onto the very streets of Kingsland, pulling Sansa’s own family into its clutches and changing their lives forever—and no one more than herself and her sister, Arya Stark. (Complete)
    • The Hound and the Bird*: Sandor and Sansa try to fight their growing feelings for each other as King’s Landing descends into chaos. Together, they find soft moments in a harsh place.
    • Into the Wood*: A divergence after Blackwater. (Complete)
    • Kept*: Joffrey is still alive after his wedding to Margery Tyrell and Sansa is still his prisoner. But when his most loyal guard asks for a favour, he feels honour bound to grant it. (Complete)
    • Kindred*: It is said that two souls, whether kin or strangers, old or young, friend or foe, may be 'kindred’. These souls are thought to be bound in some way, their paths wound by Fate from the same thread. Many never realize this, but some choose to follow the thread, whatever may come. Until.
    • The Prophecy*: Prophecies of market charlatans might entertain idiots who have their heads full of dreams, but Sandor knows better. Love, lands, family. Why not as well tell him that he will soon sprout wings and fly into the sun, as longs as she is at it? (Complete)
    • Thunderstruck*: Straight-laced and a yuppie in the making, Sansa is dragged to a metal concert by Arya and Gendry where she captures the eye of the guitarist of the band Cannibal Star. Crude and lewd, Sandor is everything Sansa was certain she didn’t want. Even with this unlikely match, sparks fly and misadventures ensue as they try to get their two worlds to combine.
    • Wolves and Hounds Work Together*: Sandor decides to help Sansa and rescues Ned from being executed, swearing loyalty to the Starks. He is made Sansa’s sworn shield to protect her from any conflict due to the upcoming war, but what will happen when they spend too much time together?
  • Sansa Stark x Tyrion Lannister
    • A Shadow and a Wolf*: Tyrion Lannister weds Sansa Stark and everything goes as it happened in the show. However, just before Joffrey’s wedding, an unexpected event changes everything. The forced husband and wife will have to go beyond their family loyalties in order to survive and hope to win the game of thrones.
    • Desperate to Connect*: Sansa is in need of security since the last of her family has been butchered at the Red Wedding; but what if Baelish cannot come through with his promise? She develops a new strategy in the fight for her survival; one that will impact the lives of her and Tyrion Lannister forever.
    • Sins of the Father*: Joffrey never died at the Purple Wedding so Tyrion wasn’t put on trial for his death nor did he murder his father and lover. Sansa didn’t fall into the hands of Littlefinger - though she did fall into bed and babe with Tyrion. Spans their life until 318 and it wasn’t as clean as they thought it might be with an heir produced for Winterfell and Casterly Rock. Also, being Queen does not bode well for Margaery when she struggles to give Joffrey a son at first,monly daughters which he ends up neglecting, only for his eldest to become a sadistic murderess: his ideal child for the Iron Throne whole his only surviving son is the heir he never wanted.
    • UNDER THE SUMMER SUN*: Tyrion and Sansa escape together from the Purple Wedding in an intensely emotional, romantic and sexual voyage, also full of discovery and a little adventure. I love this couple.
    • Wolf in the Lion’s Den*: A tale of Sansa and Tyrion’s growing relationship after they have married. How will their relationship bud among the troubles that surround them?
Rogue One: Catalyst: Thoughts

- link to my other Rogue One blabberings -

Finally finished reading Rogue One: Catalyst by James Luceno, or as it’s also known by:

  • Lyra Erso: Badass;
  • Lyra Erso: They Could Have Easily Created Parallels Between You and Chirrut+Baze in the Film Instead of Ignoring Your Existence;
  • Lyra/Galen OTP Fever: How to Write a Strong, Balanced Couple While Still Giving Them Relationship Hurdles;
  • “I’m Thirsty for You and Your D, Galen,” Screams Krennic Into the Rain
    • with foreword by Galen Erso, “Who Is This? And What Does He Mean By My D?”
    • and annotated by Lyra Erso, *The dickbag is talking about the Death Star, honey.
  • Tarkin/Krennic: Hux/Kylo Ren Got Nothing On This Hate Couple
  • and finally: Jyn Erso Is A Normal Human Child: how this makes her future character arc 1000x more painful

NB: Have only seen the RO film and have now read this book. This is going to be long and about 90% quotes related to characterization.

General Impression:

  • Writing was okay. Not great, but not bad. (This is especially apparent since I’ve just started reading the RO novelization, and the difference in quality is pretty startling.) Nice quick read.
  • Lyra is fantastic.
  • Galen is pretty interesting.
  • Jyn is adorable and normal, and it breaks my heart.
  • Krennic is… wow, I just want to laugh because he’s so absurd but also a Terrible Human Being.
  • Tarkin is fascinating (see waaaay below for details).

Lyra Erso

  • No one holds this bitch down.
    • “She had no recourse. She wasn’t built to hold things in; to be complacent or compliant.”
    • “Some of Orson’s remarks had made her wonder whether she and Galen were under surveillance, or even whether her personal comlink might be bugged. But she didn’t care either way. Orson may have drawn the line in the sand, but she would be the one to step over it.”

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Wholesome Week 2 Day 2 ~ "Fifteen"

@wholesome-week

“Marco…,” rang a whisper, which was left unresponsive.

“Marco…!” the voice once more attempted. Still, there remained no answer but a toss of shoulders on a bed.

Growing impatient, the voice hissed, “MARCO DIAZ!”.

A pair of eyes shot open, looking straight above, leading to a scream.

Third time’s a charm, the voice’s owner thought.

“Star?! What the heck are you doing?!” Marco had come to find Star standing right above his bed, hanging upside down, calling his name.

“C'mon, Marco! Don’t you know what today is?”

“Yeah! The day you almost scared me to death! You can’t just hang over someone’s bed and then scare them awake!”

“Psh, you’re fine! The one who should really be offended is me!”

“Star, you’re making no sense.”

Star hopped onto the floor and stood upright. She stared at Marco blankly, not making a sound.

He returned her look, until what Star had meant dawned upon him. He hopped out of his bed. “Oh my gosh. It’s our one-year friendship-iversary!”

Star smiled. “And?”

“…and the first time we fought Ludo?”

“Annd??”

“…a year since you set your kingdom on fire?”

“Besides that!”

“Oh, oh! I’ve got it now! It’s been a year that you’ve had your wand!”

Star smacked her head, then shook Marco. “It’s my fifteenth birthday!”

The boy’s eyes widened, then both of their smiles, too.

Suddenly, Star yelled, “Super confetti blast!”, and confetti showered the room, both teenagers bursting out with giggles and excitement.

“This is awesome! We have so much to celebrate… and do you know what this means?”

“I’m a year older than I was last year?”

“Fifteen birthday punches!” Marco began to chase Star across his room, as she had immediately began to run.

“No! No! Marco! No birthday punches!” She stopped firmly in her tracks, watching his every move.

He mirrored this behavior, arousing suspicions within her. Finally, he lifted both of his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright, alright- no birthday punches…”

“Good.”

“…just birthday tickles!”

Almost immediately, Star was on the ground, laughing hysterically. She quickly reached for her wand, pointed at Marco, and commanded, “Makeup blast!”, stopping him instantaneously.

He look in the mirror and groaned. His face looked like ‘Princess Marco’ all over again. “Great,” he laughed, following with a groan, “now I have to go clean my face.”

As, Marco left to the bathroom, Star received a call from her mother on her mirror.

“Star? Hello, Star- I need you to come to the castle today.”

“Gee, thanks, mom. I’m having a wonderful birthday so far.” Star muttered, sarcastically.

“I know it’s your birthday, but since you are now fifteen, we must celebrate with dinner, alongside the royal families of the other kingdoms. You do realize you are coming of age to find a husband?”

“Ugh, mom, I don’t want to sit around sipping tea and being proper with the other royals, and I most certainly am not planning on finding a husband.”

“Star, you must come-” Star ended the call midway in her mother’s sentence.

Coming out of the bathroom, Marco asked, “What was that all about?”

“My mom wants me to go to some stupid royal birthday dinner. Looks like we’re going to Mewni.” Before giving Marco the opportunity to have his output heard, Star quickly grabbed his dimensional scissors and opened a portal to the Butterfly Castle, dragging him inside.

“Hello, my not-so-little girl!” King Butterfly announced. “Hello, Marco!”

“Hey, dad!” she hugged her father.

“Ah, Star, I see you’ve followed my directions for once,” her mother said, arriving in the throne room where they stood.

“Now, why is it you request me here so early?”

“Honey, it’s your birthday! You must prepare for tonight’s dinner; you must ‘wow’ the other kingdoms,” her father replied.

“Ugh, let’s get this done and over with. What are we doing?”

“Well, the servants shall make you look your best; they will do your hair, makeup, nails, and dress you… and, Star, you will wear your crown,” Queen Butterfly demanded. The young girl groaned.

“That sounds… constricting.” Marco whispered to Star, feeling sorry that as royalty, her parents limited her independence.

“Marco,” the Queen began. “Since Star has brought you here with us, you must also look proper for tonight’s dinner.”

“Uh, okay, thanks,” the boy answered, unsure of what his response should’ve been.

The Queen then waved her hand, commencing the servants’ preparation of each teenager for the night’s dinner. Being separated from one another, Marco’s attention lasted for two hours, while Star’s, five. While putting the finishing touches on her outfit, Marco knocked on Star’s door.

“Come in!”

Marco opened the door and entered the room. Star was hidden behind a screen which her mirror had converted into, just as she did when she prepared for the Blood Moon ball.

“Hey, Star. Almost ready?”

“Yeah, I just think my outfit is missing something.”

“Well, I know this is going to sound corny, but I think you’ll shine just like the star you are.”

“Aw, thanks- wait, that’s it! I know what I’m missing!”

“…You’re welcome?”

“Thanks. Now, super glitter blast!” A blast of glitter emerged from behind the screen, covering Star’s dress exactly the way she’d planned. “…And now, for the finishing piece.” Star pointed her wand toward her head, and finally, her crown appeared in her hair, but with a nice, personal touch: a few flowers and her horn headband.

“Alright, now I’m ready.” As Star stepped out from behind the screen, Marco looked up in full focus.

Star wore a matte satin, red ballgown with an off-shoulder neckline, and that made contact with the ground. The top of her gown was covered in roses, and the bottom of her dress shimmered like the stars in the night sky. She wore her hair in a loose half-up half-down curled style, with the crown and horns in the front to top it off. Her pink wings had grown over time, and shown in the back. With golden heels and earrings, she’d surely be the center of attention at the dinner.

Marco was left awestruck, and, without thought, he said, “You’re beautiful. I-I meant- it’s just- you look beautiful. Not beautiful- but pretty– not that you’re not beautiful but- ugh! You know.” He blushed and turned his head in the awkwardness and his panic.

Star’s face turned red as well. “Thank you, Marco. You look super handsome too…”

They stood in silence for a few moments, until Marco began to lean in closer to her, almost making contact with her until-

Moon Butterfly burst into the room. “Marco, I would like you to escort my daughter to the …Great Hall for dinner with the other royals within the next few minutes.” She then shut the door and left the pair in their awkwardness.

“So… I guess I should start 'escorting’ you to the Grand Hall?”

“Marco?”

“Star?”

“I’m glad I have you as such an amazing best friend.”

“Me too. I know I’ve said this, but you’re the best girl a guy could ever ask for.”

They took another moment to smile and stare at one another until Marco said, “Now, are you ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she admitted.

Grabbing onto her hand, Marco led Star through the halls, then stopping in front of a huge door.

“Marco, this isn’t the grand hall. It’s the ballroom!”

“Well, I’ve never really been in this castle before. Why don’t we check it out anyway, maybe you could give me a mini-tour?”

“That’d be great.” Star pushed open the door, still with her smile.

“Surprise!” yelled a crowd of people within the room. In the group stood Star’s friends and the people she cared about most, excluding Marco: her mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, Ponyhead, Alfonso and Ferguson, Janna, Kelly, Starfan13, surprisingly, Tom, and many others. Many, many tables and decorations filled the room. A DJ occupied a corner of the room. Space had been left for the dance floor in the middle of the room. Long tables with rows of food had lines of people waiting behind it. The most important people in Star’s life occupied a single table, sitting in pairs of girls and guys; someone had paired Janna with Tom. One small table held a huge cake, reading 'Feliz Quinceanera, Star!“ A single spotlight shone on her.

“Marco- I don’t understand. The dinner? The royal families? My mother? Having to get ready for such a long time? What is all of this? Who did this?”

“It was all a set up. This is a Quinceanera, a special traditional party for a girl who is turning fifteen. I thought you deserved it, so I let everyone in on the surprise. There was never any royal dinner, we just needed an excuse to get you ready for the party. What do you think?”

“I think this is amazing! You did all of this for me?”

“I had help, and for a girl as special as you, I’d do anything.”

This time, it was Star who went in for a kiss with Marco, and it was this time she got it. The crowd cheered and whistled, and after a quick flush of cheeks, Star pulled Marco over to the cake table. Flashing her wand, Star made another cake appear next to the birthday cake, the new one saying 'Happy Friendship-iversary Star and Marco!’

The music played, and everyone was in much excitement. As Star sat, Marco sat beside her. “Remember the Blood Moon Ball?” he reminisced.

“Haha, yeah. According to legend, our souls were bonded that day. I hadn’t even known I was dancing with you. You have quite the moves, Marco Diaz.”

“Well, would you like to put the legend to the test?”

“How would we do that?”

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Amused, Star accepted the request she’d been awaiting, being led to the dance floor.
“I thought you’d never ask. Now show me what you’ve got!”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note: Thank you to whoever actually read this far! This is my first Starco one-shot ff, and I really had fun with this, so I hope you enjoyed it too! (Btw I’m sorry it’s long, guys)

Addewid (IV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Kai (Jongin)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,703

Summary: You cannot appeal to my better nature, for I have none. I am not human, little one.”

You’ve always known you were different. You’re able to see them, after all, able to see the Others. You’ve also always ignored them. Until the day comes where you’re forced to make a choice - one that throws your world into chaos. And sends you down a path you might never return from.

Originally posted by kimjongkaissoo

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Royalty Mess: Part One

author’s note: I’m such a sucker for royalty and Shawn but I won’t be making Shawn as a Prince here just for reasons, sorry. Feedback is very welcomed x

Masterlist

Prologue


”Don’t be silly,” another non-grateful glance from my mother was sent straight to my face, ”you can be eighteen but it doesn’t mean you can go outside by yourself to meet your loving boyfriend.”

”And he is still not allowed to come to the palace, how equal is that?” Madness took over me again, trying to explain the Queen herself that I deserve some normal lad’s rights too. ”People don’t know that we are a thing, isn’t that already enough to go incognito and be myself who I am already?” I sighed.

”You’re a Princess, my darling. We do have to be careful what we are doing and saying, not just loose in and go with the flow,” her sigh was louder and more angrier than before. ”Also, in my opinion, but I don’t know  your father’s, you should break up with him - it’s not going to work out like that way. Come on, look at your nephew Harold, what happened with him and this girl Hannah - kinda hurtful, wasn’t it?”

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Put A Ring On It

Originally posted by minspink

When two forgetful people get married.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: slight profanity, I guess

Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

Genre: fluffier than bunkook

Author’s Note: dat gif tho, find someone who looks at you the way jungkook looks at jimin

Song: Bruno Mars’s Marry You

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All the While

Characters:  Elias Samson x OFC

A/S/F: Fluff? With a hint at smut at the end

Request: #98/108/166 with Elias Samson (from this prompt list) – by @sethslayer

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,309

Tagging:  @llowkeys | @the-geekgoddes | @horcruxhunter5972 | @zombiexbody | @imtoldimbabe | @vebner37 | @nickysmum1909 | @taryndibiase | @justtrey19 | @alexahood21 | @lunaticqueen7 | @thephenomenonalkingofthebrogues | @styl3sl0v3r | @kingslayers-angel | @womderland-fandom | @blondekel77 | @florenceivy | @skrillexslays13 | @deanammbrose | @hardcorewwetrash | @athoughtfulmindwrites

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YOI Time Travel fic recs

a great desire to love by lily_winterwood

(7/7 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri | Soulmates AU)

For some strange, inexplicable, fantastic reason, Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are trading places. Kimi no Na wa AU.

Gods of Circumstance by  Ritequette

(6/? WIP | Mature | Viktor/Yuuri)

During his Free Program at the 2016 Barcelona Grand Prix Finals, Yuuri suffers a freak equipment malfunction and falls, hitting his head on the ice.

When he wakes up, surprisingly not dead, he finds himself in the last place he expected…

…the 2015 Sochi Grand Prix Finals. Again.

it’s not the side effect of champagne, i am thinking it must be love by lostincostco

(1/1 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

Somehow, Yuuri gets the distinct feeling he’s being punished for something

Katsuki Yuuri Solemnly Swears That Time-Travel/Alternate Universe Bullshit Did Not Happen With The Intent to Piss Off Yuri Plisetsky by Eldestmiddle

(16/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri)

he is wrong

Maelstrom by feelslikefire

(5/5 Complete | Explicit | Viktor/Yuuri)

Victor Nikiforov is poised to win gold in his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final. He has the world at his feet, is unparalleled in the sport–right up until a snowstorm blows into Sochi, and he finds himself repeating the same day over and over and over. He stumbles over Yuuri Katsuki, and everything changes.

(Or, the time loop au. Loosely based on Groundhog Day.)

News Travels Fast by TheSecretUchiha

(1/1 Complete | General | Viktor/Yuuri)

In which time travel happened but there is no mention of time travel and Viktor and Yuuri like to surprise people, especially reporters.

On my Love by RikoJasmine 

(5/ ? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

For the second time, the Sochi Grand Prix Finals arrive, and with it a reborn Yuuri Katsuki. “Viktor,” Yuuri thinks over the pounding of his heart, the crowd going silent as the music begins. “I’ll show the world what you meant to me.”

Yuuri often thinks of his life as Before and After Viktor Nikiforov, the marking point being the day Viktor swept into his life and turned his world upside-down. After many years together, an accident leads to Yuuri suddenly waking up in the Before—back in Detroit, before the GPF, before he ever knew Viktor as anything other than his childhood idol.

As if it had all been just a dream. 

Once More, With Feeling by  Watermelonsmellinfellon

(5/? WIP | Explicit | Viktor/Yuuri )

“If anything, Yuuri could console himself with the fact that his husband remembered him most of the time and that he still cared about Yuuri in his own way, when he did.”

Yuuri wakes up in Detroit after going to bed under heavy stress and emotional turmoil due to Victor’s declining mental health. Things are different. He’s dreaming obviously. And in dreams, people can do what they want.

So Yuuri decides to do what he wants. If only he could have accepted this new reality. Then the realization wouldn’t hurt so much later on. But ignorance keeps the pain of reality away.

the gentle light that strays and vanishes by nauti

(4/4 Complete | General | Viktor/Yuuri)

An idea suddenly bursts into Yuuri’s mind as he looks down at his poodle-decorated phone. It was also not his current one—this one had been broken about a year ago after Viktor had dropped it into the toilet on accident.

He hesitates, his finger hovering over the “on” button. Taking a deep break, he clicks it.

He looks at the date, then promptly drops his phone.
For on his home screen was not January 10th, 2019, but instead October 15, 2015.

Eight weeks before the 2015 Sochi Grand Prix Final.

also known as: that fic where Yuuri and Viktor go back in time separately, only to find each other again.

The Switch by  BoredPerson69

(2/2 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri | Soulmates AU )

The Switch was a true mystery to science. Nobody knew how or why it happened, it just did.

Soulmate AU where Viktor switches bodies with his future self after years of believing he didn’t have a soulmate. 

the thermodynamic cycle of viktor nikiforov by falchion

(1/5 WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri | Time Loop)

When Victor Nikiforov dies in a traffic accident, he is given the chance to go back in time and change the future. What he doesn’t realise, however, is exactly how far back he needs to go in order to change the fates of not only himself but also of those he loves.

Turn Back the Clock by IronScript

(17/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri)

When Yuuri and Viktor wake up over thirty years in the past, they don’t know what to do. Does the other remember?

Luckily that particular question is quickly answered and they can relax slightly, but what about afterwards? Viktor was brought back to right before his first Olympics, and Yuuri isn’t even old enough to compete in Seniors’!

Then there’s the fact that they’re still very much in love, but a physical relationship would be illegal (and would gross them both out considering Yuuri’s age), and they can’t count on anyone to just trust them not to do anything age inappropriate. So maybe being long-distance (with as many in-person meetings as possible) would be better until Yuuri becomes a legal adult physically, never mind his actual age.

But it’s hard to behave and act naturally when you’re forced to be apart from your husband of twenty years, especially during one of the most stressful parts of anyone’s life, so Yuuri and Viktor have to distract themselves somehow, right?

Right.

And if everyone around them ends up completely confused and blindsided at their sudden changes (though admittedly they seem to have changed for the better), then so be it!

Unimaginable by emilyenrose

(1/1 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

Sixteen year old Victor spontaneously travels to the future, where he’s… retired? And married?

Way to Victory by  crea_sei

(7/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri)

Defeated after his loss at the GPF 2015, Yuuri doesn’t expect anything more from the GPF.
That is, until he wakes up on the 5th of December, five days before the GPF even begins.

“I came here to skate,” Yuuri says. “It was supposed to be the last time, the last dance.” He grows quiet.

Viktor is pleading him with his gaze, Don’t give up, don’t give up, he seems to say. His hands are still on Yuuri’s cheeks, warm against the coldness of his skin.

Yuuri smiles. “But you were here,” he says softly.

What You Deserve by socketplug

(2/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

“World Champion figure skater Viktor Nikiforov was found dead in his apartment in St. Petersburg, Russia, earlier this morning. Investigators say that Nikiforov’s death was most likely the result of a suicide attempt.”

Yuuri Katsuki keeps stumbling through different lines of his own story as time continues to loop after one particular event- Viktor Nikiforov, his longtime idol, commits suicide. As Yuuri’s choices continue to shape the paths he walks, he finds himself getting to know and love someone who’s having a hard time living.

Seokjin Scenario: Blue-Blooded.

Request: Could you write a historical AU where Jin is the crowned prince and you, who didn’t have interest in politcal stuffs and the prince is to be wed to him. You’re forced to be groomed to be the next queen with Jin as the King but you refuse to learn and act like a one. Ultimately, Jin steps up to help you learn, make you fall in love with him and accept your fate. But once you accept them more problems arise(an heir, coronation etc.) making you think if it was the right decision? 

Genre: Romance


Anybody hearing you sighing would think it was that you felt overwhelmed and marveled at the castle’s opulence and many exquisite details of the great hall where you’d been left to wait, but in reality you were frustrated, bored and angry altogether. You didn’t want to be there and forced to accept your life to be like your family wanted it to, this was something you should be deciding yourself so maybe you didn’t feel  handed out to be trained and tamed to other people’s will. You hated that feeling of impotence.

You were to start preparing for the role you were promised to, but it wasn’t much of a role and you wondered why you needed any preparation at all to be treated like a decorative flower vase. You’d never seen a queen acting without the consent of the king or being more than the pretty decorative woman at his side and you didn’t want to be that.

You heard steps approaching so you tried to hide your bad humor beneath a calm face and then you saw him, the crown prince, your future husband and future king, making his way to you accompanied by two footmen that he dismissed after he crossed the threshold. Seokjin’s presence seemed to take over the whole room, he was grand and his royal status seemed to ooze out of him in every breath, he was tall and appealing and the dream of every woman in the kingdom. He smiled wholeheartedly when he stopped a few steps before you, bowing deeply to show his respect and you were quick to do a perfect courtesy yourself.

–Milady – his voice was sweet and he seemed happy by your presence.  –I’m glad to finally have you here –

–Your highness, thanks for receiving me –  The prince had always been nice to you, he was proper and correct and had never treated you badly or inferior in the few meetings you’d had, but you didn’t know him enough to be sure he was really like that. You felt a little uncomfortable, not knowing  what else to say and it wasn’t exactly every day that someone as witty and quick mouthed like you had trouble to find something to say, you didn’t want to attribute that lack of words to Seokjin’s presence or to the way he was looking at you.

Seokjin smiled kindly and it didn’t look forced or fake at least. –It’s my pleasure. I hope your chambers are of your liking for the time being –

You nodded, remembering your bedroom, filled with tapestries of a deep violet color that represented the royal family, with a bed big enough for more than three people to lay there, shelves wide enough to storage all your garments and dresses without trouble, and you hadn’t seen further than that but it was surely filled with anything you might need, handmaids included, at least the prince didn’t lack in details. You didn’t miss the way he added for the time being at the end of his sentence, you were to share the same bedroom when you married after all.

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Best of Wives, Best of Women [Sehun x Reader]

Rating: T+15

Word Count: 1646

Warning: Adultery

Wishes Note: Sorry if your name is June, it’s just a coincidence.  


Originally posted by sensualkisses

It was the first time you noticed your husband staying out later than normal.  Long time spent at the office, yet when you called, his secretary saying he had left hours before.  You weren’t blind.  His company was stressful, but he always had previously made time for you.  When he did come home, he mostly spent time in his office, and the only time you actually spent together in the past month or so, when he either had an event that he brought you to, or the times he slept with his back towards you.  

You were in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of you as he sipped his coffee reading the newspaper.  Your cell phone rang, his eyes followed it, wondering who it might be. 

“Hello.”  He went back to reading the paper as he expected it to be your mother.  It wasn’t.  

“Hello, this is June.  Is this ___, Sehun’s wife?”  You looked at your husband of eight months as your heart began to beat fast.  

“Yes, who is this?” 

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