ushers wife

anonymous asked:

how do i get into ghost quartet i'm just,, so confused

i have listened through all of gq at least three times and i’m still confused.

in terms of getting into it musically, “Any Kind of Dead Person”, “Four Friends”, and “I Don’t Know” exist outside the narrative and they’re also bops. strongly recommend before diving in. 

(also “Starchild”, which just always makes me cry. and also “The Astronomer”, holy shit.)

what makes it really confusing is trying to listen to it without the SCENES, which is why i suggest listening to the “Live at the McKittrick” album– this has all the scenes in them along with the songs.

even though everyone’s already tried to explain gq, here’s a condensed version of the show:

  • main plotline is Rose Red (Brittain) is in love with the Astronomer (Dave) but he breaks her heart and instead pursues Pearl White (Gelsey), her sister. Rose Red, logically, asks the bear (Brent) for revenge.
    • Bear asks for a bunch of stuff in return: 
      • one pot of HONEY
      • one piece of STARDUST
      • one SECRET BAPTISM
      • and a PHOTO OF A GHOST. Rose Red’s gotta travel thru timelines to get these things.
    • in this timeilne, Rose Red steals the honey from a Soldier (Gelsey). this is the HONEY. 
    • (songs: middle of The Camera Shop, Soldier & Rose, The Astronomer, The Telescope, second half of Bad Men, The Wind & Rain).
  • modern plotline focuses on a subway accident. Driver of the subway (Dave), victim who falls into tracks who is also Pearl (Gelsey), pusher of victim (Brent), and the photographer– who is also Rose (Brittain). 
    • this is the PHOTO OF A GHOST.
    • after the subway accident, Rose goes to a camera shop (run by Pearl (Gelsey), kind of… even though she’s the victim.)
    • (songs: The Camera Shop, Subway, The Photograph, Hero, Midnight, half of Usher Part 3).
  • Usher plotline focuses on Edgar (Dave) the father, Lady Usher (Gelsey) his wife, Roxie (Brittain) their daughter, and the Fool (Brent) their son. Roxie has a child but her child is stolen, and the family then falls apart.
    • this is the SECRET BAPTISM.
    • it is based on Edgar Allen Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher.
    • (songs: end of The Camera Shop, Starchild, Usher Part 1, Family Meeting, Fathers & Sons, Usher Part 2, Lights Out, half of Usher Part 3). 
  • ancient plotline. Scheherazade (Gelsey) is telling stories to the Shah (Brent) to keep herself alive, her sister Dunyazad (Brittain) encourages her, and David (Dave) is also there, he’s playing the piano for Thelonious Monk. long story. 
    • this is the PIECE OF STARDUST.
    • based off of Arabian Nights, and this part is kind of confusing because Gelsey is always Scheherazade in this timeline but Brittain exists once as Rose Red (Tango Dancer) and then as Dunyazad (Monk).
    • (songs: Tango Dancer, Monk, beginning of Bad Men)
  • no-plotline songs are basically just Dave, Gelsey, Brittain, and Brent, having a good time. Rose Red never gets anything from this plotline, we’re all just chilling.
    • (songs: I Don’t Know, Any Kind of Dead Person, Four Friends, Prayer). 

moral of the story is, ghost quartet is confusing, but the lyrics are some of the most beautiful things i’ve ever heard. read it on Genius and listen on Spotify for the full experience.

good luck!

Title: Family - Part 5

Author’s Note: Lemme know what you think? Want a part 6? Feedback is appreciated. :)

Links: Master ListCurrent RequestsImagine Schedule

All Parts: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

As you pulled into Tyler’s driveway you were on edge; not only were you going to be at his house for the first time in months, you were going to be meeting his parents. Parking in your usual spot, you grabbed your bag and Charlie’s present and headed towards the door. You took a deep breath as you knocked; something you hadn’t done at Tyler’s since you first began dating. It was weird to feel like a stranger in Tyler’s life, but you were comforted knowing you were again welcome in it. You shifted your bag on your shoulder, careful not to drop the perfectly wrapped present that was tucked under your other arm.

You heard quick footsteps approaching the door, a tiny voice coming through the thick wooden door. “Who is it?”

“Hey Charlie, it’s (Y/N).” you announced, leaning closer to the door, excited to see the little boy waiting on the other side.

You heard the lock flip; Charlie appearing seconds later as he dragged the heavy door open with both hands, a bright smile lighting up his face when he saw you. He hurled himself at your legs, locking his arms around your thighs. You laughed, stumbling slightly at the impact.

“Charlie, let me put this stuff down and I’ll give you a real hug, okay?” you laughed, looking down at the head of tousled brown curls pressed against your legs.

The nerves that had plagued you since you agreed to come to the party washed away when Charlie pulled back, still grinning from ear to ear. “I’m so glad you’re here!” he exclaimed, stepping back just far enough for to walk to the kitchen, following closely behind you. He watched you intently as you quickly set the present and bag down on the counter. You hurriedly turned and crouched down so you were eye level with Charlie, extending your arms to him for a hug. He took a running start, slinging himself at you, knocking you off balance with his enthusiastic embrace. You fell backwards, the weight of his body catching you off guard as you landed on your back, both of you laughing as you sprawled on the floor, Charlie still clinging to you.

“What’s going on out here?” Tyler asked with a raised eyebrow, appearing from the other side of the counter, smiling when he saw the two of you.

“Daddy! (Y/N) came to my birthday party!” Charlie squealed, looking up at Tyler.

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Andre Burakovsky #9

Requested by Anon: Can you please write an Andre Burakovsky imagine where your TJ oshies little sister and you and Andre take care of Layla and Leni. [Here it is! Enjoy!:)]

Word count: 816

Originally posted by welbecks

The box of doughnuts felt heavy on your hand. Truthfully, it’s not heavy, it’s just a normal box of a dozen doughnuts but you already know TJ would bite your head off for bringing that much sugar at nine in the morning.

You barely knocked on the door before it swung open, revealing the two smiling heads of TJ and Lauren.

Your boyfriend, who’s been silent up until this point, chuckled, “wow, you’re not wasting time guys.”

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step dad || calum hood

“Babe, I’ve got it. I’ve been around the kids.” Calum assures, practically ushering his new wife out the door.

“Ok, but Ella doesn’t like chicken nuggets and that’s all Garrett will eat.” She insists.

“I know baby.” He smiles.

“Calum are you sure? You’ve never been alone with them for a whole weekend.” She sighs. “No, you know what. I’m staying home. It’s too soon.” She drops her bag.

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her art ; l. taeyong

» halloween au

» the art of distinguishing art from reality can only leave one loss for words because art is reality.

Hushed several shuffles of noises could be distinctly heard from outside. A woman, who was fortunately blessed with such beauty and power, all clad in a dark long gown took it upon herself to silently walk towards the loud knocking from the wooden door. Then two children came stumbling down from upstairs, both teary eyed and holding paint brushes in their tiny hands before the husband reappeared from behind, ushering the kids to go back to bed. After the children was out of sight, the woman let out a muffled cry, sharing the same exact look her husband was giving her. Worry.

“Where are we heading to, mother?” Came the unanswered question that left past your lips. On the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the smiling woman shaking her head in silence before placing her hand on your back and giving you a small push towards a glass door. You glanced back to her before letting your eyes roam the small sight in front of you, before deciding to go inside the seemingly old antique store.

“Woah, this is amazing. What is this place?”

“This, my dear, was your grandfather’s shop.” You watched her pick herself up slowly before walking towards a framed picture of a man, picking it up before examining it with a smile never leaving her face.

“Was?” It came out in disbelief tone, with you looking at her with such shock, and your mouth opened agape. With all the years of existing, never once did your mother tell you about your grandparents, nor did she mention once about what they were like as people.

She hummed in response, and you figured she didn’t want to continue the talk so you wandered throughout the whole shop, although you kept glancing back to her looking down at a picture with a sad smile.

“What are we going to do?” The woman cried out to her husband as more loud knocking emitted from the door. The man looked behind to see the empty canvases and paint brushes and cans of colored paint, before giving his wife a smile and engulfing her in a hug.

“Get out of here, take our children with you. I’ll take care of this.” He ushered his wife to go upstairs, because there, was a secret passage way out the house that led to a river - and if you followed that river it’ll lead you to a new town village. The woman hugged her husband tightly, as tears uncontrollably left her eyes, shaking her head no continuously.

“No! I can’t leave you! Not now!” He stopped her crying with a plant of sweet kiss on her lips before cupping her cheeks with a smile, a tear escaping the corner of his eye.

“They can’t hurt me, for I am nothing but a mere painting that became living, my love.”

A few hours later, you found yourself standing in front of a room, art club, before knocking and peeking inside only to see everyone placed on stools with empty canvases in front of them and giving you a confused look. A sheepish smile crawled up on your lips as you waved, “Can I join this club?” In the back, you managed to make eye contact with two of your friends; Mark and Taeil who gave you cute smiles.

A clear of throat came from a woman, who looked like the president of the club, earning everyone’s attention, including yours. She scanned the room before looking at you with a nod, gesturing for you to enter and to take a sit. After a plenty of minutes had passed from all the interview she did with you, the class once again resumed.

As soon as you sat down on a stool, you picked up a brush and for some reason, it brought tingles through your whole body making you shiver. And looking at the empty paper in front of you, why did you had the urge to paint? To deliver a beautiful image out but somehow your mind is blank as you stared down at the cans of paint, it was staring back at you with such mock, waiting to be used and refilled.

“Okay, dismissed! Tonight, I want you to paint something, a person - to be exact. Try to visualize a person, someone you haven’t seen in your entire life, that’s it. I know it might be hard, but if you think about giving up, feel free to leave and never come back.” The club president barked out, letting out a laugh soon after when one of the people fell down from their stools in surprise.

That night, you found yourself sitting on your dorm bed and staring at the mocking canvas. And after a few cups of coffee and blasting instrumental music, you again, found it upon yourself to look at the now paint covered canvas. The once mocking canvas that stared at you and eager to be filled with such color and sketches.

You smiled to yourself, feeling sleepiness take over you. Your mind was half awake from all the hours of staying up and the fact that you have to wake up early to present your work at the club soon was making you earn a headache. A proud feeling filled you as you let your hands graze on the soft feeling of paper, eyes staring back at the intense gaze of a man whom you painted - whom you did not knew - but at least you got your club leader’s instructions right, right?

The only thing left is what you’ll name him. Your work of art.

You searched for various of names on the internet but nothing seemed to fit his handsome face, until you came to a final name. And you smiled sleepily to yourself. Lee Taeyong would be his name.

“Mother, where is father?” The girl sniffled, as she locked hands with her brother, both looking at their mother in concern as they desperately looked to their left and right in search of their father - and her husband. The beautiful woman remained silent, face full of dried tears and mouth formed into a small frown as she tried her hardest to appear strong for her children, their children.

“Mother, where’s daddy?” The boy asked, after his sister asked. Both children stopping from their walk and looking up to their mother in hopes of her saying her father was just right there.

Poor children, how can she tell her kids that their father will never be coming back?

You woke up to the smell of food lingering in air, making you sit up with eyes widened. You didn’t have a roommate to begin with, so who was this person?

You quietly walked out of room before stopping on your tracks as you saw a man humming to himself, his back faced to you. You cleared your throat, only to feel something stuck on your throat as soon as he faced you.

Looking back at you was the person you painted. But instead of an intense gaze etched on his face, a smile was forming on his lips as he waited for you to talk. You hurriedly walked back to your room to wash your face, and you may or may not have slipped a few hard pinches on your arm to make sure you aren’t seeing this. What sorcery is this?

You returned to the kitchen and gawked. “Who are you?” It surprised you how calm you are about the situation, how you aren’t running around screaming. He blinked back to you before laughing.

“Didn’t you name me Taeyong? Lee Taeyong?” Oh god, if you were fully wide awake you would’ve drop down to the ground in shock. But instead, you stood, frozen in place as your mouth was stuck in a circle. He slowly walked towards to you and that was probably enough for you to wake up from your trance - putting out your hands out to him, stopping him.

“Where did you came from?”

“I dont know? I just opened my eyes and now I’m here.”

“Oh my god.” A hand brought up to your mouth as you stared at the man, Lee Taeyong. He was the man whom you painted last night, how is here? Alive and in flesh?

“Is that a bad thing? Oh, I-I’m sorry.” Before you could say something back, he immediately took your hand and a burst of shivers crawled up your arms.

“Fuck, you’re real.” You gawked. “You’re coming with me. To my mother. No questions asked, just stay here and don’t touch anything, alright?” Although Taeyong seemed intimidating to begin with, he seemed to obey your instructions and sat down quietly, fiddling with the ends of his sweater.

You quickly dressed up and when you came back to the kitchen, everything was cleaned off. You sighed to yourself, it seemed like he got rid of the food he cooked and cleaned his mess. “Come on.” He hurriedly stood up from his spot and and walked towards you to the door, almost stumbling on his own feet.

It didn’t go unnoticed that he even intertwined his hand with yours, slightly trembling from fear.

“No matter what you do, never touch a paint brush, and don’t paint.” The woman told her children after a few years of her husband’s disappearance.


“Because my loves, we are no ordinary people. We have the ability to paint and make things alive. That’s why you should never paint, that is dangerous, okay?”

As soon as you visited your mother, the smile on her face as she greeted you slightly faltered. “Oh, who’s this fine gentleman?” Taeyong’s hand tightened around yours, which you presumed is from nervousness, he remained quiet beside you as you started explaining to your mother.

“I think this is better to discuss inside the living room, mom.” In which she led you two and sat you two down before crossing her legs and giving you two a look.

“This is Taeyong, I painted him.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth. Your mother seemed unfazed though, only letting a shaking smile crawl up on her lips, before pointing at Taeyong beside you. “I-Is this true, dear?” He let out a mere nod, hands fiddling with the ends of his sweater.

“My child.” Your mom called out, making you look up as she stood up before heading towards a room, then returning with a picture - the same painted photo she was staring at back at the antique shop. “This is my husband, your dad.”

“Where is it? God, where are you?” The woman, kneeled down, searched for a particular painting. A frustrated cry left her lips as her hands desperately clawed at the clothes before her hand came in contact with a hard surface of a canvas photo. There, she found the remains of her husband, the painting she made.

“I knew this would happen to you no matter what. Because our ancestors power would continuously be passed down to new generations, and this time, it’s you. I hope you don’t make any wrong mistakes, love. It’s up to you whether you would love this young man right here or throw his painting. It’s completely up to you.” Taeyong’s hands came to rest on your shoulders as he stared at you, looking at you with those two eyes that said one thing. Worry.

“I don’t know mom, this is too much to take in.” His shoulders fell down in limp, hands falling down to his lap as he looked down at his shoes, sighing.

Your mother gave a sad look at Taeyong before glancing back to you. “I don’t think that is the right thing to say. You should take things into consideration, like, he might be helpful and maybe, sometime in the future, you two might fall in love, maybe?”

You and Taeyong came home after a few hours later of talking to your mother. And the moment you two entered your room, his hand left yours as he stood unmoving. Eyes fixated on the painting of him on the bed, he bit the inside of his cheeks.

“Are you going to get rid of me?”

You watched him walk towards your bed and sit on it, eyes trained on the painting as took it in his hands and examined it with a depressed look.

“No.” He looked up from his position to see you staring back at him with a worried look, you walked towards him and sat beside him. “This might be a lot to take in, but i’m pretty sure i’ll get used to this. And Taeyong? Don’t worry, I have no intention of getting rid of you.”

the “boyfriend” part two

a/n: here’s a part two because roman as a protective dad is too cute bye. read part one here

“Daddy!” Amara squeals as soon as Roman walks in the door, still sweaty from training. “This is my boyfriend, Marc. We’re having a playdate.”

Roman comes to a stop as his four-year-old daughter and her friend run into the entryway. (Roman refuses to call Marc her ‘boyfriend’ because he doesn’t even want to imagine his princess having a boyfriend. He knows they’re just kids and they don’t understand the meaning of it, so they’re not serious, but he’s just too protective of his little girl). Roman scans the little kid from head to toe – he has a cute, lopsided smile and messy blonde hair and he looks completely harmless, but Roman is still suspicious of his daughter’s preschool “boyfriend.”

“Hi, Marc,” Roman sighs and leans down, offering his hand out for the little boy to shake. Marc giggles and takes his hand. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

Roman,” his wife suddenly appears out of nowhere and whacks him on the chest. 

“God, for an 8-month pregnant lady you sure do move fast,” Roman rubs his chest. “Where did you even come from?”

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2 Weeks Later

Happy Birthday!!” Everlie’s body jerked forward in enough momentum she rattled the bedside table and knocked over Stuffy, her favorite stuffed rabbit she slept with every night. The light coming through the skewed curtains was dimed and a dark orange hue. She could hear the sounds of wind blowing outside, carrying the chirping of early morning crickets and birds to far off places.

Her head was throbbing. Chuckles and softened whispers caught her attention as she turned her groggy head to the side, catching sight of what all the commotion was. Her mothers, Gen and Ianthe, stood facing her with wide smiles, a bounce in their step, and a huge cake in their hands. Ianthe was the first to speak again.

Happy birthday baby girl.” Gen gave her a wink, bouncing with joy that made the headache in the back of Everlie’s skull worsen with each movement.

Happy birthday doodle!” She sang, ushering her wife closer so that Everlie could get a better look at what was nestled in their hands, like she could miss it. The strawberry cake was ginormous, almost overtaking Ianthe completely.

Ev sat a little bit straighter, rubbing at her eyes to get her vision to normal, and to suppress the migraine she hadn’t been able to shake for the past couple of days.

What time is it?” She asked, searching her parents for an answer, hopefully a quiet one.

6:41.” Ianthe answered, beaming. “We thought we’d let you sleep in today.

You call that sleeping in?” Ever yawned. “I thought I said I didn’t want to make a big deal out of my birthday.” She pouted, secretly thinking about how much she couldn’t wait to dig into that cake. No doubt Ianthe made it, and anything her momma made was sure to be delicious.

Please. It’s your seventeenth birthday! Did you really think we weren’t going to shower you with lots and lots of attention on the day of your birth, my perfect and most favorite daughter?” Gen let go of Ianthe’s arm, skipping over to the bed, sitting beside Everlie. She cocked an eyebrow at her mother, looking over to Ian for confirmation that, in fact, Gen had finally lost it. Ianthe chucked, shrugging her shoulders, and she sat the cake down behind her on Ev’s desk.

She says that to the twins on their birthday too. Besides, it’s just a cake. Your favorite. Strawberry. I borrowed the recipe from your aunt Anna back in the day, so it’s kinda like a little birthday present from her, really.” Everlie smiled down at her hands thinking of her aunt who she was fond of when she was younger. She couldn’t argue with that logic.

Thanks momma. As long as it’s just a cake.” Gen and Ianthe shared a look, which caught Everlie’s attention.

And breakfast. Jonah’s downstairs now putting the finishing touches on the pancakes. His idea not ours. He did it all himself.” Gen said, her cheeks bright red like she was forcing herself not to say anything. Everlie looked over at Ian for another confirmation. She, too, looked like she was keeping something quiet.

What’s going on?

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[ I ]

summary: Sakura’s first year at Hogwarts is filled with more new friendships than she knows what to do with

notes: this is all the multisaku discord chats’ fault

an hp/naruto crossover focusing on saku-friendships with maaaybe a little eventual romance

hope you enjoy!

When Sakura was born, her hair was a very pale blonde, many shades lighter than her mother’s but with the potential to darken to the same golden yellow. Her father would often playfully lament the fact that she’d inherited both her mother’s hair and eyes and, when she puffed out her chubby cheeks and pouted up at him, saying that she didn’t want grey hair like him, Kizashi would gently pinch her nose and tell her that she’d look just as cute with the red hair of his youth.

She spent most of her preschool days trying not to let her bullies see her cry, hiding her wide forehead behind blonde bangs and playing by herself or taking refuge in the daycare building. Her favorite color was blue and her father often teased her that it matched his eyes, but she was never without her favorite plastic bracelet – a pale cerulean band dotted with white stars – and often held it between her palms while she endured the other children’s teasing.

Playing by herself was difficult, so she often imagined she had friends that would keep her company. Imaginary friends that picked flowers with her or helped her make her sandcastles or pushed her on the swing, her imagination only strengthened by the odd occurrences that she never really considered to be all that strange. The buds on flower crowns she weaved bloomed when she smiled down at them, her castles never crumbled in the sandbox, and she swung higher than all of the other 4-year-olds at the playground, even if she was by herself, and she was delighted, sure that she didn’t need to play with the other children if she could accomplish so much on her own.

She was five when she made her first, real friend.

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All I Could Do Was Cry

A/N: This song by Etta James always gets me and I started to write this while listening to it. I hope you like it!

“I was losing the man that I loved.”

It wasn’t fair. He was mine, not hers. She had no right to go after him. Granted we didn’t know each other but still when you see someone happy you do not meddle.

My heart hurts and nothing will fix it. Except for him of course. Why did he have to go and get engaged?! He couldn’t wait six more months. He couldn’t wait for me?!

“You have to go.” Ryan whined into the phone.

“I do not.” I scoffed

I could hear him sighing, obviously annoyed with my stubbornness.

“There’s a reason he sent you an invitation. So yes you do have to go.”

Why did he send me a stupid invitation to his stupid wedding?!

Probably to rub it in my face that he had found somebody and I of course was pathetically still in love with him.

“Yea well I’m not going.”

“You had your chance and you said no Y/N! Don’t let your own regrets get in the way of Justin’s happiness.”

Harsh much?

I did say no to Justin when he asked me to marry him. It wasn’t the right time for either of us. Why couldn’t we just enjoy the relationship we had at that time? Why did we need to get married?

“Bye Ryan.” I ended the call.

Two weeks later I found myself standing just outside a beautiful church. It wasn’t too big, just the right size. Everyone had already gone inside and so I was the only one standing just outside the beautifully carved doors.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I slowly opened the door so that I didn’t make a noise. The wedding had not started so there was still time to enter without getting noticed.

I stood in a corner behind a pillar so as to not be seen.

I could hear his laugh and my heart literally leaped out of my chest at that familiar sound. He was laughing at something his father said.

He wore a black suit that fit him perfectly. He had a tie on that resembled the color of red wine to match the red roses that decorated the church along with white ones. All of it was very romantic and made me want to throw up. He did look happy and it hurt to know that I hadn’t been the one behind it.

The music starts to play and she walks down the isle. I had to give it to her, the dress was amazing. She looked like a true princess attending her very own ball.

Once the vows start and I realize that they chose to write their own, everything starts to close in on me.

His voice flows throughout the church and I can’t help but think that if I had not been so stubborn then that would be me up there.

When they kiss, the tears begin to fall and before I could turn into a mess I hurry out of the church and into my car.

They walk down the steps as everyone crowds around, congratulating them. When they stop just before the limo that adorned the traditional saying, “Just Married” I could see Justin looking around for something.

His eyes find mine almost instantly and they stare at me. He looks a little sad and then his new wife is ushering him towards the car. Just like that he’s gone and I’ll never get to have him.

As they drove off, my chest tightened with this unbearable pain that just got worse every second. The tears were in full effect.

Before I could collapse, someone caught me and pulled me close to their body.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay. I promise.” Ryan softly spoke into my ear.

I know he was trying to comfort me but nothing would ever be okay now that the man I loved was no longer mine.

parvatispatils-deactivated20161  asked:

5 or 29 for parlavender !!

Healers say a lot of things to skirt around the truth.

On the one hand, they don’t want to say everything will be okay, or that everything is fine in case they’re giving out false hope on the slight chance that something goes wrong.

On the other, they don’t want to hand out a grim prognosis and force someone into the grieving process only to have the patient make an amazing recovery.

Though, Parvati supposed, one situation was a bit better than the other. Her grieving process started the second she saw Lavender lying on the bloodstained grass, her body terribly mauled and contorted into a gruesome and unnatural pose. She’d assumed right then and there that her best friend was dead and what small shred of joy she had left was torn from her heart.

Nearly a week had passed since that morning, the longest week of her life. She rarely left the hospital, usually only doing so when she was forced. Lavender’s family was there, of course, her mother and father, her grandparents, and plenty of kids from school stopped by to check in, even Ron and Hermione, but there were plenty of hours (usually late night hours) where it was just her. Just her and Lavender.

She held her hand, made sure her pillows were fluffed, cared for her hair as best she could, painted her nails, and made sure her lips didn’t dry out. But mostly, she just stared; out of the window, over the grounds of St. Mungos, and into a blurred point at the horizon. She ran through her memories and combed through every aspect of their friendship.

“Do you remember how shy you were in first year?” She’d asked, but of course there was no response. She chuckled. “Hard to believe, now.”

But she was. Parvati had been too, if she were being honest with herself, but they’d made friends within the first month and that quickly faded. Together, they gave each other confidence and learned that as long as they had each other, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do.

They discovered lip gloss together second year, and spent hours sprawled out on Lavenders bed trading colors and flavors. They’d even check with the other first before buying a new pot, just to make sure they weren’t doubling. No need to waste the money if your best friend already had it.

Strawberry was Lavender’s favorite.

Then their third year hit, and suddenly there were boys everywhere, according to Lavender, anyway. She seemed unable to talk of anything else, while Parvati just wanted to keep practicing braiding and taking the quizzes in Teen Witch Weekly.

Fourth year was rough. All Lavender could talk about was Seamus and his accent and how tall he’d gotten and, “do you think he was looking at me during lunch? It felt like he was looking at me.” And for some ridiculous, teen girl reason, Parvati thought going to the Yule Ball with Harry Potter would make Lavender jealous enough to make her shut up about Seamus.

Fifth year was better. Lavender grew bored with Seamus, and while she was still as boy crazy as ever, it wasn’t so new, so fresh, so it wasn’t the only thing she wanted to talk about any more. Things felt back to normal, and they spent many a nights staying up late, whispering and giggling about one thing or another. Parvati felt like she had her friend back.

But then came their Sixth Year, and Lavender’s weird obsession with Ron Weasley. Parvati could see it, the boy had grown into his height a little, and started playing on the Quidditch team, but he was still Ron Weasley. And he was a right arse, too. Lavender spent a week crying in Parvati’s bed after he broke up with her and it was all Parvati could do not to punch him right in his ugly freckled nose.

Lavender’s sorrow didn’t last long, it never did, and soon she started spending more and more time with Riley Mavencroft, a dark haired Hufflepuff girl. Parvati was livid. Who did that girl think she was, and what right did she have to steal her best friend? That was a fight she’d never forget.

“So I guess she’s your new best friend then,” Parvati finally said, after the fourth time Lavender went to Hogsmeade with Riley instead of her. Lavender looked hurt, and confused.

“Parvati! No, never! I just -” but she stopped, her eyes staring at some unfocused spot on the bed as she thought for a moment. She looked back up at Parvati. “Have you ever… Ever felt the same way around a girl as you have a boy?”

But Parvati had no idea what she was getting at. “What are you saying?”

Lavender scrunched up her face, and her hands motioned through the air as she tried to find her words. “Like have you ever thought about - I don’t know… kissing a girl?”

It was as though Parvati’s breath was pulled from her chest. Her head swirled with so many emotions that it was dizzying, she didn’t know what to say or which one to act on so she just pulled one from the whirlpool and for some reason the one she picked was anger.

The fight lasted over an hour, and they didn’t speak for the next few weeks. When they finally did, it was tense and nothing was really the same.

Seventh year changed all of that. None of the petty stuff mattered any more, and they knew they needed each other if they were ever going to make it. They bunked up most nights, and made a deal to take turns crying.

“We can’t both be useless at the same time,” Lavender had joked.

It was those months when everything became clear to Parvati, when all the pieces fell together to form the most obvious picture in her head. She both loved, and was in love with her best friend.

“I’m trying here, Lav,” Parvati said, barely holding back her tears and holding on tight to Lavender’s hand. She hadn’t let herself cry since she first stepped foot in the hospital. “But I’m going to need you to wake up real soon if we’re going to hold true to our deal.”

And then, her hand twitched. It was so light of a movement that at first, Parvati thought she’d imagined it but then a small but obvious noise came from Lavender’s throat. It wasn’t much, but it was the first sign of anything they’d had. Parvati ran to the door and called for a Healer.

Lavender moaned again and they rushed Parvati out of the room. She hurried to the nearest fireplace and moments later stood in the Browns’ living room. It was late, nearing two in the morning, and by the time everyone woke, dressed, and flooed back to the hospital, Lavender was awake. Weak, but awake.

Lavender’s family was ushered in first, leaving Parvati to wait outside. She paced the floor, wrung her hands, bit her lip, bounced on the balls of her feet, anything to distract herself.

“She’s fine,” said one of the younger nurses. He couldn’t have been much older than she was. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t tell you that but… I think, in the long run, she’ll be okay.”

Parvati smiled in an attempt to hold back her tears.

“Your name,” he started, a smile playing at his lips, “your name was the first thing she said.”

Her heart swelled and dropped at the same time. The nurse patted her on the shoulder and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later, the door opened and out walked Lavender’s parents.

“She’s asking for you,” Mrs. Brown said.

“We’ve got to contact her grandparents, if you want to go in,” Mr. Brown added, ushering his wife towards the lobby.

Parvati nodded, and tried to be the calm and mature adult she wanted Lavender’s parents to think she was, but the moment their backs were too her she rushed through the doors and all but ran to Lavender’s bed, stopping only when their lips crashed together.

Warmth and joy radiated from her chest, making her feel as though she were melting into the bed and a shock traveled down her back when she felt Lavender’s hand at the base over neck, pulling her closer.

She finally pulled away, tears rolling down her cheeks but a smile on her face. “I thought you were dead,” she cried.

Lavender was crying too, but she smiled. “You taste like Strawberry.”

Because You Bested Me

Oops. Writing Malcolm is cathartic, especially under sleep deprivation.

This is a direct sequel to Citrus With A Hint of Tea. I may turn it into a series, but keep the one-shot angle.

As with CWAHoT, this will be on shortly.


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anonymous asked:

I have a prompt, bruce and diana having a friends with benefits kind of situation for a while and they both start to fall in love with each other, so they decide to tell one and other -one the same day maybe- and break things off but obviously they don't expect the other person to love them back. I know it sounds like a cheesy rom-com, but with superheroes. :)))

It felt as though waking up next to Bruce didn’t make or break their ‘Friends with Benefits’ agreement in the slightest.

It didn’t make Diana feel at all cheap to dress in the middle of the night and prepare to scamper off to Washington via the transporter in the BatCave.

What did put a sour note on their arrangement was the feeling that it was merely another form of training - a form of sparring that offered a different award - for something else he had to do at night.

Or perhaps someone?

“Come on,” hummed a feminine voice throughout the cave as Diana made her way down the stairs. The moment that sultry sound hit her ears, Wonder Woman made use of her ability to fly and hovered her way to the bottom of the staircase. Hiding out of view, of course, for fear of being labelled a snoop. Lo and behold, it was none other than the only other woman who had any stake in the life of the bat.

“I said no, Selina.” Bruce affirmed while dressed to impress in his crime fighting suit, hood resting on his shoulders and revealing the back of his head to the leather-clad woman.

A disappointed sound slipped through the femme fatale’s lips. “All right, if you say so–”

“You know the way out.”

“Hmph, I always said you had a way with words.” Selina sneered before her heels clicked their way over to whatever entrance she had come through, ready now to depart the sullen presence of the man she came to see.

In response, the keys on the massive computer’s keyboard click-clacked, filling the cave’s silence the moment that they were alone. And he knew that he wasn’t alone, made clear by the way he called her name after a pregnant pause, “Diana.”

It was reflexive for the almighty Wonder Woman to bite her lip whenever she was being summoned in such an accusatory tone, and she blamed her mother for instilling in her such a reflex. “Bruce.” She replied as elegant as can be, returning her feet to the ground and strolling over to his side. However, before she could reach him, that expansive cape of his spun with his body and created some distance between them.

His baby blue eyes were no longer soothed by their love-making, but rather, looked much more veiled than they did before. Bruce was never an emotionally available man, so it wasn’t a shock to see him wear a distant façade.

She usually was able to hold onto his secretly affectionate side until they were called in for duty, though.

“How did you know I was there?” Prodded Diana while trying to sound casual, even while planting her hands on her hips.

“You think I wouldn’t notice if you were hovering nearby?”

“Nearby, or in your precious cave?”

She almost got half a smirk for that remark. The lack of a humorous response only put her on edge, though her disposition refused to showcase that to him. They stared one another down, shades of blue waging war without so much as a reason to fight; it was all Diana could do not to shake him sometimes and use her strength against the all-powerful Bruce Wayne, given that it sometimes felt as though all he understood was force.

Or dominance.

Whether he was the one demonstrating, or the one receiving—

“Are you headed back to Washington?” Queried the ‘World’s Best Detective’. His voice rumbled low, enough to cause a shiver to strike so strongly against her skin that it reached her bones. Never in her five thousand years had she ever guessed a man could make her feel so lovesick – literal and figurative, of course – and yet, there she stood before the only human being, regardless of his gender, who held the unique quality of making her immediately dream of answering him in a seductive way.

‘If you care to join me, and help me to test the quality of my mattress, too.’ She wished to say.

Sadly, she decided to respond with the complete opposite sentiments. “I think I should return tonight, and…I doubt I will be making use of my transporter again.” Diana’s chest swelled as she delivered her decision in regards to their casually entangled relationship, the breath deep within her body meant to help her to appear strong and tall, certain of the actions she was taking.

Bruce blinked away his surprise, however, it was impossible not to note the way it tugged at the corner of his eyes. “I see,” Was all he said at first, digesting her termination of their physical flirtation. After taking his time, Bruce used his Batman voice and demanded to know, “Why now?”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, never mind. You’re entitled to ending our…arrangement whenever you so choose. The transporter will always be open to you in case of emergencies, Diana, on both ends. Remember that before you decide to shut it down—”

Finding his babbling to be absolutely depressing in an indirect sort of way, Wonder Woman stepped forward and dropped her arms down at her sides. “Bruce, we promised this wouldn’t change our working relationship.”

“And it won’t. Which is why—”

“I would hope that our friendship would remain intact as well, without us needing to state it.” Again, the sky met the sea while they eyed one another and two different yet mighty storms made impact, hoping to comprehend the other’s design and complexity while remaining whole; they were both great forces of nature, to the point that some warned them about their attraction causing calamities in every which way for the Justice League, but the shared quality of each of their occasionally disastrous natures was their easily identifiable stubbornness.

Nevertheless, it was the sea who fell against the sky first, as Bruce tore his glance away momentarily. For some reason, Diana felt the sudden urge to chew on her lip once again, indicating that he was not done with her yet.

A noisy part of her greatly appreciated his perseverance, then.

“Friendship…” He repeated to himself under his breath.

Again, she asked, “I’m sorry?”

A flash of something knowing flickered inside of him, and that confidence bombinated in his voice when he answered her, “Selina came here tonight to discuss something with me, but I was already out of bed before she arrived” – when the abrupt explanation received no initial reaction, he carried on – “because I…thought of something while lying in bed after we…”

As adorable as a rosy-cheeked bat appeared to be, Diana clarified quickly, “You don’t owe me any explanations for what you do in your own house.”

“Then take it anyway, free of charge.” Grounded out the master of the manor.

“Selina doesn’t bother me, Bruce.” Wonder Woman broke through their subtle courtesy and charged towards the underlying motivation for his retrospection of the night, post their carnal war between his sheets.

A truly annoying beeping coming from the computer called their attention away from the roundabout conversation, causing the respectable ‘Master Wayne’ to release a most undignified sound of irritation. For the first time since she descended the BatCave’s stairs did Diana smile, then she turned to officiate her leave. “Good night, Bruce. I’ll see you at the Founder’s Meeting tomorrow—”

“Diana, wait.” Commanded Batman, even though his voice quivered in a way that did not suit the vigilante. For some unfathomable reason, she obeyed him and was immediately aware of the impassioned stomps that were charging toward her! Those familiar instincts of her ordered her to fight back, to take charge of the situation before he gained the upper hand! When that gloved hand claimed a great deal of her shoulder in its grasp, it was all she could do to restrain herself from spinning on her heels and leaping backwards, prepared to face whatever aggravation had suddenly befallen him!

No, she had not anticipated that he had approached her in order to steal away that bottom lip of hers with his own teeth.

That very hand she had nearly knocked away found her cheek and held her while he devoured her mouth in a kiss, fervent and apologetic for whatever slight she had suffered from. There was the taste of longing in her mouth when he dove in with the desperation he had only ever shown her – a brand of emotional insight that belonged solely to her, she knew. Now, it took all of Diana’s strength to stop herself from lifting him into her arms the way a groom would carry a wife and usher him back to his bedroom, where she would have him drive his true disposition home.

Over and over again, until someone from either of their day jobs tried to screw them over in the morning.

Her favorite way to hold onto Bruce whenever he was in his precious suit was to stick her fingers behind the rim of his belt and tug him closer to her body. And, in doing so, she managed to illicit a pleasant growl from the depths of his belly. The sound rattled her bones this time, drawing an Aphrodite-like giggle out of her heart.

“So,” Diana murmured into their kiss until he gave her enough room to speak coherently, “is it mandatory for you to wear your suit whenever you come down here, even if it means getting yourself dressed when you should be sleeping next to me?” It was her turn to accuse him of something and try to discover what his guilty tick was.

Of course the World’s Greatest Detective didn’t have one.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find his other ticks, other reflexes that she could find while taking her time to get to know him.

After clearing his throat, Bruce Wayne said to her the words she never thought to hear, especially considering the way she almost exited his precious cave tonight, “I had to call the Watch Tower and I didn’t want anyone to walk in on my conversation with J’onn and see who I really am beneath my cowl.”

Oh, how quickly she arched her brow at him, as if to say: the League’s business was more important than taking care of business with me?

Sensing the proverbial dog house calling, he quickly tacked on, “If only to make sure that the roster was stacked enough so that no one will disturb us if I planned to have breakfast served to us in bed tomorrow morning.”

Her brow stayed arched, but with a different sentiment behind it this time: you were that concerned with sharing a bagel with me, that you had to call the WatchTower in full attire at three in the morning? Truly, it made sense in the most basic of terms, and yet…

That was his tick: his crazy desire to be precautious when he was apparently becoming smitten.

Just as smitten as she, if Wonder Woman were being as honest with herself as she expected others to be.

It was just as sweet as it was frightening, and it was with that realization that Diana stowed her caution away, lifted Bruce into her arms and returned them both to his bedroom, doing her damnedest not to laugh once again for fear of waking Alfred. After all, he had a feast of breakfast to prepare now that they both had confirmation that their schedules were clear. And given that they had just become friendly again, surely they had renewed energy within them both to enjoy the benefits of their special arrangement, even though there was a sense that they both knew it was not just an arrangement anymore.

 ((Here you go: rom-com WonderBat! In texts that discuss Aphrodite, she is sometimes depicted as exhibiting a ‘lover’s laugh’ – a type of sound that someone who is deliriously happy makes. Since she is the goddess of love, I thought it would make sense to make some sort of reference to her when she is Diana’s patron goddess (currently) in the comics! And yeees, Selina made an appearance! No hate towards her or anything, in case Bruce seemed a little harsh to her here. Hope you enjoyed this silly li’l story and feel free to prompt me again! ~Maiden))

Service with a Smile

A/N: The title sucks, but it fits. :’)

Honestly, I couldn’t sleep knowing that I didn’t at least start this AU. Major thanks to everybody who encouraged me in writing it! I’m not even exaggerating when I say I laid down and wheezed for a good two minutes. Here we go- the very first multi-chapter story that I actually planned out. 

Summary: Astrid’s parents own a versatile catering company, and she’s been enlisted to help them cater, set up, and oversee/manage a huge wedding for the remarriage of Stoick and Valka Haddock. She and her parents fly out to Berk for the wedding, but the Hoffersons fail to inform their daughter on some of the details- like the fact that the Haddocks had a son. Suddenly, Astrid’s life just got a whole lot more difficult, but she intends on serving with a smile… Regardless of how much this Hiccup Haddock makes her want to pull her hair out. [TL;DR Astrid’s trying to work but Hiccup won’t cut it with the sarcasm because he’s trying to avoid his own problems.]

Next: CH 2

Astrid let out a low whistle as she entered the room and dropped her carry-on at the foot of the bed.

“Alright, Astrid. This one is yours,” Astrid’s mother, Ida, announced. She gave a grand sweep of her hand in reference to the hotel room, complete with a single bed, television, bathroom, and other wares. It was a standard single room, with a door connecting it to the adjacent one… Except it wasn’t all that standard- perhaps it was just the hotel, but the interior was definitely designer. And Hoffersons knew a lot about designer interior.

“Your mother and I will be in the one next door,” Earl Hofferson grunted. He lifted one of Astrid’s suitcases off of the luggage cart parked just at the entrance of her room, but the young blonde relieved her father of the weight almost instantaneously.

“You guys didn’t have to book separate rooms, y’know. I would have been fine sharing,” she mused, almost guilty. Astrid felt bad- paying for accommodations always cut into profits on out-of-town events like these.

“Oh, you and me both, hon,” Ida laughed as she set a hand on her husband’s shoulder, “but we didn’t book these rooms. The Haddocks took care of that for us.”

The Haddocks this. The Haddocks that. Seriously, how much money did these people have?

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allaboardtheships  asked:

If you're accepting prompts at any time... Molly, Lestrade, Sherlock, and John investigate a case at the T in the Park music festival. As day leads into dusk and dusk to night, Molly and Sherlock find themselves separated from the group and decide to put the case on hold for the night.

I had absolutely no idea what the T in the Park festival was, so this was fun to research! Enjoy, my dear! 

Of Cases and Castles

As the sun set, its golden rays illuminating Strathallan castle, the excited crowd grew ever thicker. At the edge of the estate, Molly scanned the new arrivals to the festival. Lestrade and Sherlock wandered among the people, asking questions and, in Sherlock’s case, ducking punches from insulted concert-goers. Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse of his dark curls bouncing amid the sea of heads.

She bit her lip to hide her smile when one lucky man managed to clip the detectives jaw. She knew she should have felt sorry for Sherlock, but with an the arrogant lift of his abused chin, he sauntered away as the man ushered his ‘not-wife’ in the opposite direction, and she couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than shake her head in exasperation as he walked toward her.

‘Is there anyone you have not managed to insult today, Sherlock?’ She quipped when he was within hearing distance.

He shouldered his way through the crowd with a scowl to stand beside her. He clasped his hands behind his back as he proceeded to survey the sea of people. ‘Apparently not.’ He cleared his throat and cast her a sideways glance. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

‘Are you kidding?’ She gushed, bouncing on her toes. ‘It’s the first time the T in the Park Festival has been held at a castle! And I’m in Scotland! You’re darn right, I’m enjoying this!’

‘You haven’t forgotten that we’re here on a case, right?’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust as a less-than-hygenic couple passed by. ‘Which, quite frankly, has been a waste of my time. Not one murder. Not even a decent pickpocket incident.’

Molly rolled her eyes good-naturedly and sighed. ‘You can just enjoy the evening, you know. It was just an idle, vague tip. Greg can certainly handle it.’

Sherlock’s brow furrowed. ‘Greg?’

Turning on her heel, Molly once again rolled her eyes. ‘Lestrade, you prat. Now come on, let’s go find John and Mary. If the case is going cold, I’d like to grab a good seat for the concert.’

From the corner of her eye, she saw him jog to catch up. ‘A valid point. I’m sure Graham can handle an amateur threat. But why bother John and Mary now? It’s their first trip post-spawning. I think they’re rather interested in remaining separate from the rest of us.’

Molly didn’t say anything, but a warm feeling bubbled in her chest and she quirked an eyebrow.

It was now dusk, the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and the atmosphere of the crowd was reaching a fever point as the featured musical artist was called onto the stage. To Sherlock’s confusion, instead of trying to get as close to the main stage as possible, Molly grabbed his hand and pulled him in the opposite direction. Not that he was complaining.

The crowd, though expansive, began to thin as they crossed to the far edge of the estate.  A row of trees lined the end and it was under one of them that Molly pulled Sherlock. They were by no means alone, but it was certainly quieter and less crowded.

‘I would have thought you’d want to be front and center with the rest of the mindless masses,’ Sherlock wondered aloud as they turned to face the flashing lights and throng of jumping people.

‘Yeah, I would.’ Molly shrugged as she brushed aside his inadvertent insult, laying out her light jacket on the ground and settling down to watch the show. ‘But you would have hated it.’

‘Ah.’ Sherlock blinked, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. ‘That… that was…nice of you?’

Molly nodded and hummed with a smile.

‘However, I do not want to keep you from enjoying the concert.’

Afraid that the constant rolling of her eyes would have long-lasting repercussions, she reached up and tugged him down next to her. ‘I wouldn’t enjoy it if I was up there without you, silly.’

A warm feeling suffused his chest as he awkwardly resituated himself on the ground beside her. The beat of the music throbbed across the crowd in a wave, the bass heavy and thundering in the ground underneath them.

For Molly’s sake, he kept his cynical comments about the music to himself… for the most part. If the occasional derogatory remark happened to slip through, Molly simply smiled and teasingly told him to ‘shut it.’

As the night grew darker and the concert was coming to a close, Molly eagerly leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. She turned to look back at him and beamed. ‘The fireworks will be starting soon!’

Sherlock glanced up at the sky, seeing now that they would have a perfect, unobstructed view of the display over the stage. When the first whistling mortar shot into the sky, he glanced over at Molly just as the shell exploded. The lights danced across her awed face and he felt something akin to contentment wash over him.

Hesitantly, he scooted over until his right leg touched her left. Swallowing his nervousness, he placed his arm gently around her and felt a flush of pride when she immediately leaned into his side. As the fireworks continued, Molly rested her head against his chest and turned into him.

‘Was this an acceptable second date?’ He asked uncertainly.

She tilted her head up to look at him and smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’

ashton’s gonna be that dad who tears up when you get a boyfriend and starts telling the story of your birth in extreme detail and starts crying until his wife ushers him into the bedroom