sorry if you reblogged that before i edited it :

Reblog this before Halloween 2017 and I’ll make a spooky moodboard based on your blog aesthetic.

One exception (see below). If you don’t get one by the end of November then bug the heck out of me lol.

Edit: this has gotten over 700 reblogs at this point. I’m pretty sure this has reached the impossible point, so I’m now only going to do reblogs if you say something or if you comment. I’m really sorry to anyone who just reblogged but this has gotten way out of hand, haha. I’ll still maybe do a few of the people that reblogged without saying anything if I have the time, but I can’t make any promises like I did above… sorry. If anyone would like to help out and make some for those who I can’t I’d be really grateful :)

“My stubborn lass…”

Commission for @idoltina - an illustration of a scene from @initiala​‘s lovely fic “Dark Horse”. It was an absolute joy to work on this piece and bring this scene to life, thank you! <3

For more of my art, prints, etc, please see my blog sidebar (or description, for mobile)!

Don’t crop/edit/tweet and please reblog, don’t repost. Thank you!

You and the pack are trying to keep the Nogitsune in one place, you know that if it escapes everyone is in danger.

Scott assembled the handcuffs and he took a step back, you glanced at Lydia your best friend then your eyes flickered over to Liam and Kira.
The Nogitsune shook his head and the handcuffs fell off.

“Does anyone have a plan b?"you asked quietly as you stood back, ready for the Nogitsune to strike.

Everyone shared the same facial expression; Fear. The Nogitsune was probably loving every second.

"Well I guess it was nice knowing you guys, Lydia I just want you to know before we die it was me that borrowed your Red heels I’m so sorry they snapped"you confessed as ‘Stiles’ watched you all squirm uncomfortably.

Her mouth fell open.
"They were my favorites, y/n if he doesn’t kill you, I will"Lydia mumbled, sending you a death glare.

anonymous asked:

I love how everytime, it seems like Sammy is trying really hard to fight against his face blushing. Sorry, Sammy, you can't fight nature!

((ah yes, the old ‘cover your face’ trick. what could possibly go wr-))

((ah yes. the old ‘my boy’s an idiot and didn’t account for people pulling the scarf out of the way’ trick.))

Please don’t tag as kin/me - Please don’t use/edit/repost to other websites - Ask Before Dubbing - Please don’t remove caption - Reblogs appreciated! <3 ✮

Jughead Jones is canonically ace, which is really important to me as an ace person. And yet people insist that’s homophobic bc he’s “gay-coded” and it would be fine if it were any other character, but let’s be real. They’d still find some way to insist that none of the characters are asexual bc they don’t want us to see ourselves in the media.

EDIT: I’m sorry that I made this post in anger. I should’ve calmed down before I tried to explain my frustration. This post was just me venting about the lack of ace representation and the treatment of ace canon and headcanons by fandoms. I only meant to criticize a community that I’m part of for harmful behavior. I really am sorry if this came off as homophobic. I think this is a nuanced issue that deserves discussion. If you want to actual have a conversation with me, please feel free to reblog this or message me!
detailed blogrates ✨ CLOSED

i have a surprise day off today!! i’ve hardly moved all day and it’s been wonderful 💕 i only have tomorrow at work before a three day weekend for easter! so, i thought i would celebrate finally having some time to be on tumblr with some detailed blogrates since i’ve been so absent and ily all 💕

  • must be following me!
  • maybe check out some of my edits?
  • must reblog this post (likes don’t count sorry!)
  • send me a 🐝 (or just ‘br’) and tell me your fave hp character!
  • format under the cut (thank you @njmphadora for letting me pinch it!!) - blacklist maliasbr or br!

Keep reading

Hi guys!!! So i recently hit 1k followers and I’m really really thankful for the people I met here and for everyone who brightens my day and my dashboard, so I decided to compile a list with my mutuals, pals and people I admire to show how thankful I am 💖

I also like to say that if I ever made anyone feel sad or uncomfortable: I’m really sorry, I hope you know that. And if we’re mutuals, but never really talked before: this might sound fake but I recognize you on my dash - I probably read your tags and go like “SAME” before reblogging something from you or get 🙈😭💖 while reading your tags on the icons/gifsets I make. And I totally notice when you change your icon/url and I also love your edits/fics/textposts. You guys are awesome and should be appreciated always, and I’m really glad you think I’m worth your follow. 

So many of you make me feel special (and for that I’m sososo thankful) but I’d like to give a special shout out to so many people but I can’t, this would be too long rip to Des - my hamburguesa - and Des - my desiland - for being literal angels. Ily guys so much, thank you for being so pure and amazing and supportive and having the same name lmao 💖🙃

Alright, let’s do this: follow forever under the cut, mutuals are bolded 😇💖

Keep reading

Something Entirely New (Cullen x Inquisitor/Reader)

Cullen never really knew what it was like to be in love until recently.

Word Count: 600

I haven’t got much to say other than I hope you have a beautiful day and enjoy!! Thank you (❁´▽`❁)*✲゚*

Edit: Sorry!! Posted onto the wrong blog, so here it is! Please reblog/like this version instead please!! Thank you again!!



You had completely changed his life like he’d never thought possible.

He had felt his heart pound around others before, his mind draw to an utter blank, or even feel so flustered as to rush off.

But you were different.

Utterly and wonderfully different.

His stomach used to twist or tie into knots at the sight of you, and there were more times that he could count that you left him at a loss for words, hardly able to muster more than a few murmurs.

But you made him happy.

Happier than he thought possible.

Despite it all the moment he’d see you approach him his heart would skip a beat and a warmth bloom in his chest.

He hadn’t entirely thought he was in reality when you admitted the same to him, somehow able to maintain that sort of calmness you always had.

How you did, he hadn’t the faintest idea.

He could make a list about all of the things about you that amazed him.

But the idea of ever saying it to you left him near shaking.

But somedays he could come close.

And one morning he had come close.

He had woken to find you cradled in his arms, streams of sunlight pouring in from the glass of your quarters as his eyes opened.

He couldn’t help but smile as he felt your hands ribboned around him in return, only stirred as he let out a small yawn.

You crinkled your nose briefly, stretching before sinking back against him, your lids opening as you looked up to him, smiling.

“…Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He hummed, grinning at the sleepiness entangled in your tone.

You glanced up outside, folding your lips. “I’m not…I’m not sure I want to get up yet.” You raised your brow, sheepish. “What about you?”

“I don’t mind.” He simpered.

You thought for a moment. “I’m not…I’m not tired I just…” You giggled meekly, the tips of your ears reddening. “I don’t really want to leave this.”

It clicked in his head almost instantly, feeling his heart threatening to burst.

He hardly even thought before the words slipped from his mouth.

“I love you.” He said softly. “I love you so much did you know that?”

Your eyes widened like saucers, your face erupting into red in a moment’s notice.

And you began to laugh.

It was a beautiful sort of laugh, quiet and flustered as you responded.

“I love you too.”

He couldn’t seem to stop smiling you said that to him, tipping his forehead against your own.

“I…” He sighed. “I don’t even know how to begin to describe you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just…” He folded his lips, trying to muster the courage to confess it. “I can’t believe I’m blessed enough to have this-to have y-you with me.”

You were speechless for a second, gaze shining with a sort of surprise in your expression.

And then you melted.

You curled your hands around his cheeks, peppering his face in kisses, eventually finding your fingertips tangled in his hair.

“You want to know something?”

“What?” He asked, trying to mask his embarrassment, his face slightly hidden within one of the pillows.

“I think I just might be the luckiest person in Thedas when I’m with you.”

hey guys!! so i know i haven’t been able to do like any of my celebrations bc of everything with my computer, but i wanted to do some now for a late 2.5k celebration!! so i’ve decided to do mini + detailed blog rates, and blog compliments! excuse the crappy banner lol

R U L E S:

  •  mbf this klaroline trash 
  • must reblog this post
  • likes don’t count sozzz guys!
  • you can send up to two ofc :)
  • (optional:) check out my side blogs - @uinicorn @cinnamcntea
  • send me ✯ for a detailed blog rate, ♚ for a mini blog rate, and☻for a blog compliment 
  • (blog rates + compliments will be closed tomorrow night bc i will be on hiatus from then until Saturday night! so while you can still send requests for blog rates, i won’t answer them till sunday!)
  • blacklist #eva rates if you don’t wanna see these
  • if this gets less than 20 notes then this never happened adjhrkdkdjgr

so that’s it! just send me an ask with any of one or more of those three symbols! (formats):


url - idgi | not from my fandoms | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | love ittt | wHO DID YOU KILL?!

domain - don’t have one | idgi | not my fandoms | kewlll | really like it | love ittt | hOWWW

icon - idgi | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | love ittt | uGH AES AF

desktop theme - not my style | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | gorgeous | uH LMK THE CODE

color scheme - not my style | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | love ittt | JEALOUS 

updates tab - don’t have one | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | love ittt | dUUUUDEEEEE

nav page - don’t have one | incomplete | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | love ittt | IM IN LOVE

mobile header - not my style | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | gorgeous | AMAZZZZINGGGG

mobile colors - don’t match | not my style | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | gorgeous | AESTHETICCCC

reblogs - idgi | not my fandoms | not my type | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | gorgeous | REBLOGGING EVERYTHING

original edits - don’t have any | not my fandom | not my style | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | gorgeous | TEACH ME YOU YOUR WAYS

overall - | could be better | okay | kewlll | pretty cute! | amazing | PERFECT BLOGGGG

following - no(t yet!) | not my fandoms | how was i not before? | yes ofc | you’re stuck with mE LMAO


url: /10

icon: /10

mobile theme: /10

posts: /10

overall: /10

following: no, sorry | +f | yup | OFCCC

anonymous asked:

can you do some chubby!dan with loving phil and tummy rubs pls : )))))

I didn’t notice this in my inbox until yesterday and apparently it’s been in there for two weeks!! So sorry!
I wrote a quick drabble, I hope you like it ^~^

EDIT: i’ve noticed some kink/nsfw reblog this so i just want to say please do not like/reblog if you’re a kink/nsfw blog, that makes me incredibly uncomfortable and anxious


Phil woke up from his light nap when he felt Dan shift underneath him. He opened his eyes slowly and lifted his head from Dan’s stomach and looked up the younger boy. He was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Phil smiled softly before resting his head back on Dan’s stomach.

He didn’t remember exactly how they ended up falling asleep but he wasn’t complaining. They had had a long morning and Phil knew Dan hadn’t slept much the previous night, instead choosing the stay up editing. Phil brought his hands up to rest next to his head on top of Dan’s stomach.

Phil secretly loved the extra chub that was on Dan’s stomach. It made for a soft pillow and a softer Dan that Phil could squish whenever they cuddled. When they were younger, Dan used to hate his body and dreamed of being thinner. Now he knows that there’s nothing wrong with how he is and it makes Phil’s heart warm to see him loving his body.

He begins to trace small circles against Dan’s tummy, causing the boy to stir awake. Dan gives a content sigh, one hand coming down to tangle itself in Phil’s hair.

“Hey,” Dan whispered.

“Hi,” Phil replied. They fell into a comfortable silence. Phil continued to draw patterns across Dan’s stomach. He nuzzled his nose into the soft tummy, earning a giggle from Dan.

“You’re adorable,” Phil murmured, planting a kiss in the center of Dan’s tummy.

“I love you, even if you’re a huge sap,” Dan said.

Phil closed his eyes, content. “Love you too.”

______ [Reminder if you’re a nsfw blog or kink blog to not interact]

ok so i originally wanted to send a private msgg to all my mutuals but i cldnt (it has a limit?) so im gonna put it here:

i remade from 1/t/end/er (which i plan to deactivate as quick as possible) since a really creepy boy from my school has been harassing/stalking me on my blog. he wont stop making new accs when i block him and it makes me really uncomfortable/panick and since i dont want him to know about this blog i did not make an announcement there! im sorry ): i know this is rlly sudden but thank you for following me once again! i love you


These things inside my head 

They never make much sense 

So I wouldn’t hold my breath… 

I hope I die before they save my soul

Joyriding // Frnkiero Andthe Cellabration 

for Alie

Throwing a special deal for commissions this week only because I want to celebrate LUV 

I will draw:

  • Your otp being cute, kissing (lips, cheeks, forehead…etc), hugging, looking at each other… whatever you want!
  • Couples of friends being nice to each other
  • Siblings or family members expressing love 
  • Fanart or original characters!

I will NOT draw:

  • Incest 
  • Non-consensual or abusive relationships (that are depicted that way in canon)

I can send you a print if you wish me to, but I’ll charge the shipping as an extra for the commission’s price - I accept paypal only. 

Send me an ask or write to if interested. Reblogs and spreading the word are very appreciated!!!

  1. xenadd
  2. ohlookashinysquirrel
  3. (taken)
  4. (taken)

EDIT: Sorry, all the spots have been taken! I’ll open more as I finish the current commissions, but write me if you’re interested in one and I’ll put yours in the queue!

EDIT2: Due to the huge and unexpected demand this is having, I’ll take and put on the list all the commissions requests I get if you message me. This means it will take me a bit longer to get to yours, but if you write me this week before Sunday 12 PM (GMT +1) you’ll get the special Valentine’s Day deal and you’ll be added to the queue. So if you want a cute picture of your OTP you still have time!

anonymous asked:

Au where ahsoka returns to the jedi order after the s5 finale, but she's broken. And anakin is left to help pick up the pieces.

EDIT: Here’s the ao3 link! 

Im so sorry this took forever for me to write! Since returning from my camping trip, without the distraction of the great outdoors, I’m distracted by everything else. so I’m trying to will myself to finish my request before university starts. As always, I am my own beta, so there may be mistakes. 

This will also be in parts. This is part one! Next is part two! 

If you liked it, give me a heart and reblog! I’ll update with an ao3 link later on 

Also, Anakin seemed oblivious to the emotional trauma that the Trial caused Ahsoka, and I think if she came back the Jedi Order, it would continue until things boiled over. That said, this is the opening setting for this fic. Ahsoka’s back, and Anakin attempts to act like nothing has happen. So, here goes pt. ½! 

She returns because she has nowhere else to go. Not because she wants to.

The Jedi have given her everything, and as a result left her with nothing when she decided to leave. So she comes back, only because she must.

Anakin doesn’t know whether to be ecstatic that has Padawan has returned, or devastated because she appears distant when she does.

She spends a great deal of time outside of the Temple, considered by other Jedi  a civilian in everything but name, or a clone, spending more time in the barracks with her brothers. For the most part, Anakin ignores the chatter surrounding his Padawan, letting it die into the background much like his own infamous reputation.

Ahsoka can handle it, he reminds himself, she’s strong (he regrets that later on. Ahsoka is strong, but she’s not invincible).

It is as if that disregard for his Padawan’s wellbeing solidifies into a catalyst that unleashes disaster in the Force.

Before Anakin knows it, there is an undeniable deterioration of he and Ahsoka’s relationship.

He isn’t sure when he notices it, when he realizes her distance towards him.

Sure, Ahsoka avoided the other Jedi, but Anakin hadn’t counted himself amongst them.

Not until now, at least.  

It’s been weeks since they last spoke, almost longer since they’d last met. The most he sees of his Padawan is a quick flash of her lekku as she darts the corner to avoid him, and when he manages to catch up  her, he’s met with a barrage of excuses explaining why she can’t talk to him.

The battlefield is no different. Gone is the friendly banter between the two of them, their sibling rivalry all but demolished.

Ahsoka listens to his orders once without question, then dissolves into a crowd of white and blue until the battle is over and done with. And even then, she only speaks to him in debriefings.

This continues for weeks on end, and when a year rounds the corner, Anakin realizes that Ahsoka Tano left when she was exiled from the Order.

And whatever little bit of her remained in her body vanished at Anakin’s indifference towards her.

It is that realization that sees Anakin standing in front of his former Padawan’s door (because she is no longer his student), durasteel hand balled into a fist, hovering above the metal. Hesitantly,  he drums his hand on the cool surface.

When there is no immediate response, Anakin’s courage plummets to his gut, and nearly turns on his heel and abandons his mission all together.

The small, “Come in”, and the sound of the door zipping open are the only things that stops him.

With a sigh, he steps over the threshold, smiling sadly as he looks at down Ahsoka.

She lays plopped down on her sleeping mat, blue eyes locked on the bright screen of her data pad, and doesn’t look up from her device even when Anakin comes into the room. All in all, Ahsoka is unfazed by his presence.

He doesn’t know whether or not its intentional, but assumes the latter for obvious reasons.

“Ahsoka, we need to talk.” He begins immediately, not wanting to risk the chance of her making another excuse.

“About what?” Ahsoka breaks her gaze from the content on her data pad with reluctance, drawing herself into a sitting position. Anakin doesn’t miss her knitted brows, nor does her miss the way her blue eyes skid around the room to avoid his.

Anakin plops down in front of his former Padawan, slouched form mirroring her own. With a sigh, he begins to speak.

“About you, Snips. I want to talk about you. ”

For a split second her gaze locks on his, nervous eyes wide as dinner plates, as if she’s been caught ‘red handed’ doing something wrong.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

The Jedi Knight fights the urge to groan, eliciting a raised eyebrow (or at least what looks like an eyebrow) from Ahsoka.

“You just…haven’t been yourself, not since you came back.”          

There is a shuffle of limbs and scrunch of her meditation mat, and suddenly Ahsoka is standing to full height, back turned towards her master and arms crossed defensively against her chest. Anakin pales, the stance all too familiar.

Damn it, he mentally chastises herself, I didn’t come in here to make her upset.

“Snips, I—“

“How can you expect me to be myself? How am I supposed to be the same when the Order I grew up in isn’t what I thought it was,” she interjects, whirling around to meet him, Lekku spinning and eyes ablaze with hurt and anger, “ Before everything, it felt like home. Now…I don’t know what it is anymore. It’s just a place I have to stay at… and I’m not…I’m not happy here. Not anymore.”

Keep reading

⭐Frequently Asked Questions⭐

What program do you use to make your edits?

I use GraphicsGale Free to make my typography and pixel edits, Gimp to make my manga edits, and when making moodboards I just crop the photos to be square in the standard computer photo viewer, and then align them together on Tumblr.

What is an archive moodboard?

An archive moodboard is a moodboard comprised of posts in your archive that reflect your aesthetic. You can request one from me by sending an ask. Please read the Can I request a moodboard?’ section of the F.A.Q before sending, though.

Can I request a moodboard?

Yes, you can! I only make archive moodboards, but if you want one just send me an ask off anon here. You may ask for a moodboard for a sideblog, just send me an ask off anon from your main and specify which blog you want the moodboard for. If you ask me to make a moodboard by messaging me, I will not do it. If you ask for a moodboard other than an archive moodboard, I will probably not fulfill the request. Though, there is a chance I will if I like the idea. I DO NOT MAKE MOODBOARDS FOR NSFW/PORN/KINK/DDLG/ANY OTHER THING LIKE THAT BLOG. That is my personal stance on that and if you ask for one, I will delete the ask and not make the moodboard. I also usually only make moodboards for blogs who have a similar aesthetic as mine, but if I’m feeling up to it I will try to do it. I have the right to not follow through with a moodboard request and all that jazz. 

Can I request a typography/manga edit?

No, I do not take typography or manga edit requests, sorry!

Can regression/kink/nsfw/little/etc. blogs interact with you?

Yes, they can. I personally think there is too much hate against communities like that on Tumblr, so I allow all interaction on my blog. But, keep in mind that I am not a regression/nsfw/etc. blog, so do not treat me as one (i.e. sending me nsfw/regression related asks or messages. I’m only saying this because it’s happened before). Also keep in mind that not all of the people I reblog from are comfortable with all communities reblogging from them, so please read their blog/post before reblogging. If you abuse your privilege of being allowed to interact with me by making me uncomfortable, my followers uncomfortable, or the people I reblog from uncomfortable, I will no longer allow interaction from regression and like blogs. 

Can I use one of your edits for my profile picture/header/etc?

Yes, just please credit me for it!

Can I use one of your text dividers?

Yes, and no credit required!

Can I repost one of your pictures?

No, you may not under any circumstance repost one of my edits. Even if you credit me, and this includes all platforms not just Tumblr.

What are some of your favorite blogs/blogs you recommend?

I have a whole post on that here, but feel free to send an ask if you want more recs.

Can I get a promo/will you check out my blog?

I don’t do promos, but I will gladly look at your blog, as long as it’s not a regression, nsfw or similar blog. 

Do you have any other blogs?

I have a writing blog which is @reminiscentsuggestions, but I hardly post on it anymore. 

Captive in the starlight: Ch.2

A/n: If you’d like to, you can read this on Ao3 under the same name. As always, thank you reading and please, read and review. Edit: flashbacks are precluded with ’//’. The italics did not transfer from the word doc, and I’m very sorry for any confusion this may have caused.

Ch 1:

Katie stares at the book before her, and although the words are simple and plainly written, she can’t seem to understand a word she reads. It’s like her brain can’t catch onto the words, no matter how many times she rereads it. If the partner proposed to is of another culture, then the marriage ceremony must be a combination of the two. Most details of a traditional Galran wedding can be disregarded, but three parts must always take place: the exchanging of tokens, the duel of affection, and the ward of consummation. She sighs, and closes the book. A wave of dust blows out of it, settling on the stacks of parchment layered beside it. Maybe she should just take a break, try to get some rest. Today has been a long day; she could probably use some sleep to clear her head.

A roll of thunder cracks against the sky, and she starts, almost knocking over the lantern balanced precariously on the corner of her desk. She looks out the window, surprised by the sudden storm. The water is beating down mercilessly, and although she doesn’t like rain all too much, she knows that it’ll do well for the gardens. She’ll have to find someone to take over her personal ones; she doubts that she’ll have the time to keep it up once she takes over her political responsibilities. And there’s another thing that she has to worry about, Katie thinks.

A flash of lightning illuminates the balcony, and Keith appears, standing on the railing. His red tunic flutters in the wind, whipping against the night sky as he balances precariously. He steps down, and pushes open the glass doors. The storm blows in with him, spraying her room in a wash of cold water as she steps forward to meet him.

The lantern flickers, casting strange shadows across his face.

For a moment, they do nothing but stare; Katie, her mind muddled from the lack of sleep and the events of the day, can’t tell if he’s real or a figment of her imagination. Keith simply stares at her, his purple gaze simmering behind the inky curtain of hair that spills into his face. Another clap of thunder rolls behind him, and a gust of wind snaps her nightgown against the wind.

“I need to explain.” Keith says, stumbling forward. She steps forward too, her hands hesitating over his chest, unsure if she needs to steady him or not. “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to do it that way.”

When they were kids, their parents had whispered about the two of them one day marrying, of how much easier it would be for them because they were friends, of what their marriage would do for their countries. Katie had always suspected that those whispers might one day come true, but had long ago stopped dreaming of that day. She hadn’t expected him to propose yesterday, but she had always known that it would one day happen.

Katie sighs, and runs her fingers through her hair. The door is still open, and her hair and clothes are wet. “Go sit down. I- I’ll go get you a towel or something.”

Keith looks around, and then sits down on the edge of her bed, as if afraid to make more of a mess. She nods, satisfied that he isn’t going to fall over, latches the door shut. Katie wonders how he’d even gotten to her balcony. Her room is three stories up, and his room is nearly halfway around the castle. He’d have to scale the side of a wall just to get to the same level as her room. She shakes her head; Keith is crazy, but she’d already known that.

Katie grabs a towel from the shelf in her bedroom, and walks back. When he takes the towel from her, she notices the red streaking his knuckles, and the bruise that’s forming around his wrist in such a familiar hue. She takes the lamp from her desk and holds it up.

Keith flinches at the light, and her eyes flit up to his face. A bruise is starting to form on his cheekbone. There’s a cut under his left eye. “When did you find the time to get into a fight?”

Keith shrugs, and rubs the towel over his hair, frizzing it up like a the fur of a startled cat. “On the way to my rooms. Lotor cornered me. He was mad, cause I messed shit up for him.”

Katie sits down on the bed beside him, and leans into his unhurt shoulder. He drapes the towel around her shoulders, and even though they’re both wet, something about the gesture has her feeling warm. “Messed what up? I mean, he gave me all of those gifts and things, which was like, way too much, but that was it.” Keith doesn’t say anything. Realization dawns on her. “He was planning to propose too. He knew that I wasn’t in any position to tell him no, and you- you- interrupted that.” She remembers Lotor being the cause for some of Keith’s bruises, remembers the way he’d acted so nice to her, until she’d questioned him for it. She remembers how icily he had looked at her then, and how her books had gone missing the next day. She can’t imagine having to actually marry him. “Am I right?”

Keith nods, and offers her a small smile. “You always are.” Katie feels her cheeks grow warm at the admission, but then she remembers the reason why she’d had doubts in accepting his proposal. He hadn’t thought she was right when she’d told him that her family was still alive.

“Except when I’m being selfish, right?” She replies, her voice scathing.

//“You’re being selfish!” Keith says, his teeth gritted. His hands are curled into fists that shake, but do not leave his side. “Other people have families too, Pidge! You can’t just- just- withdraw from the war just to look for your own. You can’t do that!”

“Yes I can!” Katie is the only functioning royal of her line. Although she rarely uses it, she has the power to control her army’s directives, and if she wants them to keep looking for her dad, and brother, then they’ll do it. She crosses her arms and looks away. Her face, her cheeks, her ears, everywhere feels hot, as if Keith’s gaze is setting her ablaze, as if she’s catching fire from within. “You can’t tell me what to do, Keith!”

“No,” He says, crossing his arms as if to restrain them. “I can’t. If you can’t understand how selfish you’re being, I can’t make you. The alliance is the only thing keeping Zarkon-”

“Your father.” Katie mutters as she turns to go. “He’s your father.”

Keith grabs her wrist. “So what? We both know that blood doesn’t make a person. You’re smart. Smarter than your father.” His grip isn’t tight, and won’t leave a bruise, but she can’t escape it either, no matter how hard she tugs. His voice is even. “It’s not my fault your father was an idiot who got himself killed trying to fix this shit! You can’t blame anyone but him for this, Katie.” His gaze softens. “I know they’re your family. I get that. You love them. But sometimes being in charge, being who we are, it means we have to make some sacrifices. Can’t you make this one?”

All Katie can think about is how he’d called her selfish. Selfish? For loving her family? She snatches her hand away, and leaves to disappear into her rooms just like her mother has disappeared into herself.//

Keith sighs and rubs the back of his head. “Yeah. I said a lot of things back then. So did you.”

“I-” Katie has so much to say, so much to argue about, because that is not an apology, but then she notices that he’s still looking at her, that the cut under his eye is still dripping.  An ugly trail leads down to his red tunic, now burgundy with the rain. It occurs to her that she should probably tend to his wounds, before Keith tries to on his own.

“Whatever.” Katie huffs and brushes the towel away. “You’re going to get sick. From infection, or pneumonia. Or both.” She leans over the side of the bed, and pulls a box of Matt’s clothes out from underneath. She’d worn them for a while after he’d gone missing, and although she had forced herself out of it as she reentered the public eye, she’d still kept a bunch of them in her reach. It was like a promise almost, a promise that she’d never stop looking. She pulls out a pair of shorts, and a plain, brown shirt from the box and places it on the bed. “Go change into that. I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

She stands, and starts towards the door. Keith grabs her nightgown, halting her, and then lets go. It smacks against her skin with a quiet squish. “You should change too. You’re the queen now. You can’t get sick.” The water drips onto the floor quietly. A draft blows through her room and she shivers. His eyes are abnormally wide, as if they’d grown just to take her in. His gaze seems almost physical as is trails across her skin.

“I will,” Katie reassures. She opens the door, and pauses. The wood presses against her palm, cool and smooth. “When I get back. I‘ve still got things to say. We’ve still got things to discuss.”

“I know, Katie. I know.” He says, and then starts to pull off his shirt. She sees a sliver of pale, white skin rise above his pants, and she hurries to slam the door short before she can see anymore.

Her cheeks are hot and tingling as she starts her trek down the hall to the guard station. The hall is dimly lit, and the sounds of the party, still raging on in the main hall, echo faintly against the sounds of the rain. Her footsteps echo on the stone floors and the wind whistles outside. The storm outside is bad, really bad, just like the day when she’d first met him. She can imagine the mess of mud that is now her garden, the way that it would mess her shoes up, and weigh her down, more than water alone could ever do.

//Katie’s shoes sink into the dirt, falling deeper and deeper with every step she takes. Her dress, once fluffy and lavender and pretty, is now soaked with water that slicks it to her skin; the hem drags against the mud, gaining weight with every step. She feels utterly and completely horrible.

She considers calling for help, but her brother is already inside, likely getting warmed by a nice, cozy fire, and her father is still with the carriage, directing the servants with their luggage. If she’d wanted help, she should’ve taken her father’s offer to walk her up to the door when she’d had the chance. Now it’s too late. There’s no one to call, even if she could swallow her pride enough to do so.

Katie continues forward, her gaze set on the open castle doors and their promise of food and warmth. If she can just get past that threshold, and into that hall, it’ll all be fine. The cobblestone path of her own home, the very one that she’d cursed for tripping her up with their uneven and slippery stones, seems inviting now, compared to this stupid, stupid muddy one. Katie takes another step, and slides, landing on her hands and knees. Any chance of saving her dress is gone now; not even the best laundress could get this much mud out of it. Before she’d left, her mother had told her not to wear it; had told her to wear her older dress and flat shoes on the journey there, but she’d wanted to look just as important and royal as her dad and brother did, and hadn’t listened. Katie feels her cheeks burn at being wrong. It feels like she’s just been slapped, and now she feels the urge to cry pricking at her eyes.

A boy stands before her, his black hair running into his eyes like ink. His tunic, a childish red colored thing, darkens with every raindrop. He offers her a hand.

Katie sniffs, and takes it, grateful for the help but unable to say it. He pulls her to her feet as easily as her dad might’ve, if she’d asked. She takes another step, and then another, but the mud can’t bear to be nice to her for long, and she slips again. This time they land together, and rather than let her sit there and wallow, he pulls her to her feet again, and they continue on.

Walking doesn’t seem so hard with the boy next to her, and they reach the hard stone steps together much sooner than she would’ve if she had’ve continued on her own. A small pile of towels is stacked by the door, but she stands there dumbly, shivering until the boy grabs one and drapes it around her shoulders. Her teeth chatter as she attempts to pat her hair dry, making it fluff and frizz up. He grabs one for himself, and holds it around him like a cape as their clothes grow puddles on the floor.

Her dress and boots feel like they’ve been weighed down with lead (she’d learned about the element earlier that week, about how in the old days they’d sewed it into the pockets of witches and sent them to swim), and although her legs feel too heavy to move, she shuffles over to the boy. He tenses, not like an animal about to strike, but like one unsure if it should run.

She reaches out, and brushes his dripping hair back away from his eyes.

His eyes, his eyes are unlike any she’s ever seen. They’re a purple so deep, and multifaceted that they look like amethysts sparkling in the light.

She steps back, startled, and trips over her drooping dress. “You’re Prince Keithian?” His eyes, his eyes, those purple eyes. Only one person in the castle has eyes like those.

He shakes his head, and in a voice too small to befit someone as striking as he is, corrects her. “It’s just Keith.”

“Keith?” She repeats quizzically, as if trying the word out on her tongue. The name seems too short, too simple, but somehow fits him all the same. She remembers her manners, and remembers to curtsey. “I’m Katie.”

Keith looks her over, and grabs her hand. He tugs her along behind him just as easily as one would a kite, slowing down after he notices her tripping over her skirts. “You need to change, or else you’re gonna get a cold.” He pauses, and helps her bunch up an armful of the fabric and lift it into her arms. Her legs are cold still; her shorts underneath are wet too, but at least now she can walk. “C’mon.”

They walk in silence except for the squelching of their clothes and sound of water dripping down their neck and legs and down to the floor. Keith’s hand feels as hot as an ember against her skin; she squeezes his hand back, and lets him lead her deeper into the strange new castle. She doesn’t pay attention to where she’s going; with her eyes are all puffy from crying, and her legs still shaking beneath her, she has to keep her gaze focused on her legs to keep them from falling out beneath her, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when Keith finally stops.

He closes the door behind them with a small click, and then drops her hand, pointing towards another door across from the one they’d just walked through. “There’s towels in there.” He pulls open a dresser beside his bed, and tosses another tunic, this one green like her castle’s flag, onto the bed.  “And you can change into that.”

Without waiting for her to leave, he kicks off his boots and begins to undress.

She blinks. “My father doesn’t know where I am. He’s going to worry.” Everything had happened so fast- the getting stuck, meeting Keith, coming here- that she hadn’t even remembered that she was supposed to be waiting on him. “I’ve got to go back and tell him where I am.”

Keith pulls his tunic over his head, and drops it onto the ground. It collapses into a soggy mess next to his boots. He pulls another one on, another red tunic, just as bright as the first had been. His shorts are still dripping water down his legs. “I’ll go tell him. You go change.” He points towards the tunic on the bed once more. He tugs off his pants, and slides on another pair, his skinny legs pale enough to rival her own. “Go. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Okay.” She nods, turning towards the bathroom. Through the open door, she can see her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is frizzy. Her eyes are puffy, and her nose is ugly and red. Her dress looks like something dragged from the depths of the garbage shoot. Katie doesn’t look like a princess at all. She realizes that she hasn’t thanked Keith at all during this whole horrible ordeal, and turns to do so, but the boy is already gone. If not for the trail on water on the floor, and the pile of soggy clothes, she might not have believed that he’d been there at all.//

It’s funny, she thinks, how the roles today have reversed. Back then, he’d been her savior, and now, what is she? Katie sighs. She needs to stop overthinking things. Right now, she’s just a friend who’s trying to stitch him up, just like she always does.

It only takes a few minutes to grab the first aid kit from the guard booth and to walk back to her room, but by the time she gets back, Keith is slumped against the pole of her bedside, and snoring softly. She guesses that the day has taken it’s toll on him. Even she’s starting to feel tired, and she normally doesn’t fall asleep until an hour before dawn.

She quietly sets the kit on the bed, and then lowers Keith onto the comforters. The edge of the bed is still damp beneath him, but she figures that it’s more comfortable than leaning against a pole. Katie sighs, and opens the kit. Rags, alcohol, needle and thread, bandages. It’s not a lot, but she’s definitely worked with less when she’d fixed him up before. Keith had always been cautious of letting others know of the true nature of his family, and with how often he’d been hurt, it wasn’t often that he let her trek down to get medical supplies.

Katie sits down beside him, and pours alcohol onto the rag. She gently rubs at the blood stain on his cheek, and marvels at how young he looks without that angry scowl of his. It’s hard to believe sometimes, that Keith is only a year older than she is. Of course, on other days, she’s twice as mature as he is. It always seems to shift, and the few times that they both manage to be either mature or child-like on the same day almost always results in trouble.

She soaks the rag in the alcohol again, and pulls the collar of his shirt aside to dab at the cut hidden there. Tugging on the fabric must’ve hurt more than the alcohol did, because Keith grabs her hand, and tugs her down on the bed beside him.

“It’s fine. ‘M fine. Just go to sleep and we can deal with it in the morning.” He says, grabbing a pillow from the top of the bed. “And go change.”

Katie rolls her eyes, but doesn’t argue. It is the middle of the night after all, and he’s not critically wounded. It can wait until morning. Even all of the questions that she still has. Everything will still be there in the morning. She sighs, and peels off her wet nightgown, exchanging it for another one. She crawls onto the bed beside him, and pulls the covers from underneath him. She falls asleep listening to the sound of his breathing, a familiar steady beat like the lulls of the tide.