this idea wouldn't leave me

↳ Supergirl AU: Hades and Persephone
each year it creeps in sooner,
leaving bones aching for a hint of her warmth,
and it is not because he will not let her leave
it is because
she does not want to go. - (insp.)

Cold Coffee in the Morning

Hi I’m writing the PB&J coffee shop AU that no one asked for. Being posted as a WIP because…idk I felt the vibe?? Unclear. 

Finished?! Plz enjoy soft boys in a coffee shop <3


Rating: Mature
Word Count: ~15.5k
Pairing(s): Bitty/Parse/Jack
Chapters: 6/6
Summary: Kent and Bitty were doing pretty well, as far as sort-of functional exes masquerading as co-workers and best friends go. That was until Jack Zimmermann, newly hired professor at Samwell University, moved into town and disrupted their carefully constructed equilibrium.

Read here on AO3!

Reading The Phantom of the Opera:

M. Moncharmin declares, in his Memoirs, that the guest’s nose was transparent: “long, thin and transparent” are his exact words. I, for my part, will add that this might very well apply to a false nose. M. Moncharmin may have taken for transparency what was only shininess. Everybody knows that orthopaedic science provides beautiful false noses for those who have lost their noses naturally or as the result of an operation.

Normal person: the Phantom is wearing some sort of prosthesis.

Me and my stupid mind:

4

But my eyes are open
And everything still moves in slow motion
Breathless and blue, and behind your eyes, the sea
Oceans of light envelop me.

A Scene from Secret Empire: Uprising
  • Viv: Why did you know to recruit me?
  • Natasha: You were...highly recommended.
  • [one month earlier]
  • Vision: This is her when I first built her, here she is fighting social injustice, this is a video of her playing piano - she's so talented, right? This is her playing paintball... [hundreds of pictures of Viv spill on to the floor]
  • Natasha: *deep sigh*
Black Paladin Lance and crew vs. Haggar

Lance:This is Voltron
Back together
And we’re never going down at the hands of the likes of you cause we’re so much better.
And every part of us is saying go get ‘em

Hunk: The five of us ain’t gonna follow your rules

Pidge:Come at us with out any of your Galra Fools
Let’s go just us on you

(Keith,Allura,Coran: ??????)

Lance: Go ahead and try and hit us if you’re able

Hunk:Can’t you that our relationship is stable?

Pidge: I see you hate the fact we can mingle.

Together: But I think you’re just mad that you’re single!

Hunk: You’re not gonna stop the force we are together,

Pidge: We’ll protect this world forever,

Lance: If you brake us apart we’ll just come back stronger,

Together: But we’ll always be twice as brave as you are.
We are made of lo~oooove
looo~ooo~ooove
looo~ooo~oove
(Lance: Watch your footing. Pidge, shield! Evasive manuvers!
Hunk: I’ll activate the shoulder cannon.
Keith: They’re charging up their ion cannon!)

Lance: This is who we are,

Pidge: This is what we do,

Hunk: And if you think you’ll stop us than you need to think again.

Lance: Because we are connected and our bond will never end.

Pidge:We won’t let you hurt these planets

Keith: And I won’t let you hurt my friends.

Lance: Go ahead and try and hit us if you’re able

Hunk:Can’t you that our relationship is stable?

Pidge: I know you think we’re not something you’re afraid of…

Together: But you haven’t seen what we are made of!
We are even more than the five of us,
Everything we care about is a part of us,
We are our Fury, we are our Patience
We are a conversation~
We are made of lo~oooove~oooove
And it’s stronger than you
looo~ooo~oooove!

A Dream Within a Dream (2500 Follower Giveaway Fic #11)

For @chambergambit, who requested a fic set in her extraordinary Stranded Time Traveler Grantaire universe. Thank you so much for letting me play in your sandbox! I didn’t quite incorporate all the aspects of your specific prompt, but after reading your headcanons, this came to me and I couldn’t let it go. I hope I’ve done the concept justice!

Title comes from Edgar Allan Poe’s poem of the same name, which I felt captured the same beautifully painful futility I saw in chambergambit’s headcanons. 

Simultaneously canon-era and modern, ish. Time Travel AU, developing ExR (of sorts).

Grantaire’s fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against the wooden table, and it took a moment for him to place the song – “Stayin’ Alive”. He smiled slightly at his own dark humor, the last vestiges of the man he had been in the twenty-first century, back when the world made sense.

He missed music most, even battered old hits like the Bee Gees, missed putting his headphones on and tuning out the world or dancing the night away in some twink-filled club. The only way he could tune out the world now was through alcohol, and lots of it.

Alcohol also had the benefit of being one of the few drinks that wasn’t liable to kill Grantaire – at least, not immediately. He had never paid much attention in any relevant history class, but even he remembered that unsanitary drinking water had been a huge problem in the nineteenth century. Besides, alcohol was also a convenient excuse for the bizarre anachronisms he tended to utter at the wrong moment, like when he called Jehan’s outfit a hot mess or exclaimed that the bottle of wine he was drinking was the best thing since sliced bread. It explained why he doodled little Mickey Mouses in the corners of his parchment or absentmindedly folded paper airplanes before he remembered that it was some 30 years before the term aviation would even be coined.

And it even allowed Grantaire to temporarily forget that in the year 2015, he had been unceremoniously transported back in time to 1830 with no clue how, why, or more importantly, how he was ever supposed to return to his own time.

Keep reading

accidentally writes a thing based off my own headcanon woops


It was the smell of freshly cooked breakfast that roused Eijun from his sleep. Pushing back the sheets tucked neatly around his chin ( Miyuki’s doing, he was sure ), he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Yawning, he arched his back, stretching his arms out in front of him and rotating his left shoulder.

It had become something of a habit; each morning he would check for strained muscles or any other form of discomfort along his left arm, from shoulder to fingertips. Chris-senpai had been adamant that he had to take proper care of his body as he worked his way towards going pro, emailing him with exercises and reminders when he knew a big match was coming up. Eijun wanted to be in top condition in the event that there were scouts amongst the members of crowd, searching for new members to invite to their team. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t going anywhere without Miyuki.

Letting his arms drop, Eijun shuffled over to the edge of the bed, reaching blindly for the pair of socks he’d discarded sometime in the night and slipping them over his chilled toes. Grabbing the first shirt he saw ( draped across the back of a nearby chair ), the pitcher eased it over his head and stumbled his way towards the small kitchenette where food awaited him. He realised, belatedly, that the shirt he’d put on wasn’t anywhere near his size, but he was steadfast in his mission for food. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worn Miyuki’s shirts before.

“Morning,” he rasped as he entered the small kitchen, making a beeline for the glass of water Miyuki had already set out for him.

The catcher merely hummed in response, focused on making sure the delicious food that had woken him didn’t burn.

After downing the glass of water, Eijun stepped up behind Miyuki and slid his arms around his waist, propping his chin on his shoulder. The catcher merely sighed, subtly leaning back into his embrace, although his eyes never once left the stove. He might not ever say it aloud, but Eijun knew all too well that Miyuki enjoyed his good morning hugs.

“I was wondering what I’d have to do to wake you up,” Miyuki mused with a slight smile, tilting his head and brushing his lips against Eijun’s temple, “Turns out that food was the answer, huh?”

“Mm, it does smell pretty good,” Eijun mumbled, twisting his head to bury his face against Miyuki’s neck. He’d already had a shower; his hair was damp and his skin smelled like citrus fruit. Eijun’s favourite. Lips curving into a smile against the side of his throat, he added under his breath, “And so do you.”

“Oi, oi,” Miyuki protested softly, although Eijun could hear the grin in his voice, “Keep that up and I’ll burn the rice.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

With a huff, the pitcher unwound his arms from where they rested atop Miyuki’s stomach and shifted off to the side, leaning against the counter. He noticed the glance the catcher shot in his direction in his peripheral vision, biting back a smile at the way his entire head snapped towards him moments later, lips parting.

“Is that my shirt?” Miyuki’s query was neither accusatory or annoyed, simply curious.

Eijun glanced down at himself and grinned. “Looks like it.”

With a flick of his wrist, Miyuki shut off the stove and moved the pan off the heat, making sure none of the rice stuck to the bottom before pressing into Eijun’s personal space, hips pinning him against the counter. One hand reached up to cup the younger man’s face, the other slipping around his back to draw him even closer still.

“I think I like you in my shirt as much as I like you out of it,” Miyuki breathed, lips but inches away from Eijun’s. His eyes were dark with promise behind the frame of his glasses, a playful smirk toying with the corners of his mouth.

The pitcher’s hands found the other man’s waist, tipping his head to brush their noses together, his voice hushed as he whispered into the space between them, “Which do you prefer?”

“I guess we could try and figure that out.” Came Miyuki’s reply, before their mouths finally met and Eijun allowed himself to melt into the catcher’s arms.

Needless to say, breakfast was long forgotten.