what i'm trying to say is she is made of glitter

anonymous asked:

I know you probably have a lot of requests with the gods and monsters - but would you ever do an Ares based one?

Zeus’s mistress Io remains in her form of a cow, guarded by Hera’s servant Argus, and Hera is content.

She will remain in that form until her death. Hera hopes that lying with her husband was worth the sacrifice.

Zeus won’t speak to her, unwilling to admit the cow is actually his lover and ensure her death, and equally unwilling to stand against his wife to try and rescue her. Hera has him just where she wants him, and it can’t last, it never does, but she intends to enjoy it while it does.  

Then Artemis comes to her, gold and fierce. She never flinches away from her queen, staring her in the face as if she is nothing more than another of her huntresses. If Hera did not hate her for being her husband’s daughter, she thinks she might actually like the girl. “Io has a destiny,” she says, “you must let her go.”

“I don’t care for her destiny,” Hera says idly, “especially when that destiny involves getting with my husband’s child.”

“She is to give birth to a new line of kings,” Artemis hisses, “to be the wife of a death god, to be mother goddess of a whole new people. She is not meant for us. You must let her go.”

“I am Hera,” she says, “I am Queen. I must do nothing.”

Artemis growls, hand twitching for her bow, but Hera only raises an eyebrow. Let the girl try. There are few that can stand against her, and the huntress is not among them. Artemis lets out a low breath and says, “Do it, my queen, and I will grant you what it is you most desire.”

“Some peace and quiet?” Hera asks.

“A child,” she answers. “Let Io go, let her fulfill her destiny as a goddess of the Black Land of the Nile. If you do that, I, the patron goddess of childbirth, will personally use every ounce of power I possess to ensure you conceive and deliver a child of Zeus.”

Hera’s eyes narrow, “Neither my power nor his has ever been able to achieve this. What makes you think you are any different?”

“We all have our domains,” she says, “just as you cannot command the sea, just as your husband has no power over the art of weaving, so can I ensure a healthy child when you could not.”

She taps her fingers against her throne. They call her a mother goddess, though she’s raised no children. Hephaestus may be her precious son, but he doesn’t know that it was not her that threw him from Olympus. Very few people know that. And she didn’t raise him regardless, that honor belongs to Hecate.

A child, of her and Zeus. A child she can raise.

“I accept,” she announces. “You may take her, and Zeus may fulfill her destiny.” She leans forward, brings the oppressive weight of her power to the fore and lowers the pressure of the air until Artemis is left shivering. “Know this, Patron Goddess of Childbirth. If Io births a son of Zeus before I do, I will travel to the Black Land of the Nile and slay her and her children with my own two hands. Not even Hades will be able to put her back together again.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Artemis says, unable to keep her teeth from chattering.


Hera is true to her word. She allows Hermes to think he’s tricked Argus and to steal Io away. She pretends to be outraged at the audacity, at the pure white cow traveling to the sands of the Nile.

Artemis is true to her word. Hera lies with Zeus, like she has so many times before, and a child grows inside of her. One day she stands before her husband and brings his hand to the swell of her stomach, “This is your child.”

Something almost like happiness steals across his face. She forgets, sometimes, that they hate each other only as much as they love each other. After so much time together, many would think it would be one or the other. They simply opted for both.

Artemis is there during the birth, her easy confidence more comforting then Hera will ever admit. Delivering Hephaestus was easy compared to this. She screams and cries and Hestia’s hands on her shoulders are all that keeps her from collapsing and begging someone to just cut the child from her. She doesn’t think she can die in childbirth, not with Artemis between her legs. She wishes she’d thought to ask before this began.

But she does not die. Her son is born, just as healthy and beautiful as Hephaestus was. “Well done,” Artemis says softly, placing the squirming child into her arms.

Zeus touches her hair and kisses his son’s forehead. “We shall call him Ares.”

“Very well,” she agrees, so tired her eyes struggle to stay open.

She hands her son to Hestia, and finally allows sleep to take her.


Ares grows into the spitting image of his father. Same copper-red skin, same silky black hair. Her husband keeps it short, but her son lets his grow long. The minutes Hera spends every morning brushing his hair are among her favorite.

He has an eager smile and a soft heart. Hera doesn’t know where he got it, since it’s certainly not from her or Zeus. Demeter tolerates his bumbling after her, though any time Kore attempts to meet her cousin Demeter’s temper frays. Poseidon allows Ares to explore the depths of the sea with a minor sea god acting as his guide. Apollo plays for him, and Artemis teaches him to hunt. Zeus’s lightning doesn’t burn his son, and when storms rage he takes Ares to the top of Olympus and teaches him to throw lightning bolts.

Hera selfishly does not allow Ares to go to the underworld. She knows he would be safe there, that Hades would protect him as he protected Hephaestus, but that’s precisely why she won’t allow it. They got to raise one of her sons already. It pains her to share Ares with them now.

He is happy, and kind, kinder than anyone would expect a child of her womb to be.

“He must choose a domain,” Zeus rumbles, watching Ares shoot arrows with perfect accuracy.

“He is a child still,” Hera says, “let him remain so for a little longer.”

“If he does not choose a domain,” Zeus warns, “one will choose him. We are gods. We must be gods of something.”

She flickers her gaze at him, and he scoots an inch away from her. “He is a child, and for now a child he will remain. We are not Demeter. We shall not thrust the responsibilities and power of a deity on a child who is not prepared for it.”

Zeus disapproves, but says nothing more.

Her son will be the god of something patient, something soft. The god of lost children, of heartbroken suitors, of forgiveness. Something where his gentle heart will aid him instead of hurt him.

She traded her happiness for power. She doesn’t regret it. But Ares doesn’t need to do the same – she’s the most powerful goddess that still walks the earth. He’s her son, and he’ll want for nothing she can provide.


Ares is almost fully grown, long hair reaching his hips even braided, and the strength of his limbs is such that he can keep up with Artemis on her most vigorous of hunts, that he can throw his father’s lightning bolts halfway across the world.

He’s been to every place, and met every god of the earth, sea, and sky.

Except for one.

 It’s not hard to find the volcano. He’s strong enough and old enough to take care of himself, and his mother does not worry when he says he’s going to the earth. But he did not tell her where, precisely, on the earth he was going.

He has strong legs.  It’s easy for him to climb to the top of the volcano. He’s almost made it there when something grabs his shoulders, stilling him. He turns, and stares into a single large eye. “What are you doing?” the cyclopes growls.

“I’m looking for Hephaestus,” he says, “He’s my brother.”

“My master has many brothers,” the cyclopes says.

Ares shakes his head. He is not the product of his father’s fling with a sprite or mortal. “I am Ares, son of Zeus and Hera. Just as Hephaestus is. I came here to meet my brother.” The cyclopes hesitates. He asks, “What’s your name?”

“Brontes,” he answers, surprised.

“Brontes,” he smiles, “I just want to meet him. I’ve never met him before. I won’t linger.”

There’s a moment where Brontes looks conflicted, and Ares tries to look as unassuming as possible. “Fine,” he huffs, “but don’t get angry at me if he dips you in lava.”

“That would be fun,” he says brightly. Lightning doesn’t burn him. So far the only thing hot enough to cause him pain is Hestia’s fire. He probably could go swimming in lava.

Brontes looks at him as if he’s slightly unhinged. He just keeps smiling.


There are more cyclopes underneath, and bright glittering machines that Ares can’t even begin to wrap his mind around. “Who are you?” someone demands, and a hand grabs his wrist and yanks him away from a boiling vat of lava that he’d been peering into.

He looks up at a man taller and broader than he is. He has skin almost as dark as the obsidian of his volcano, but lighter eyes. They are the color of dark amber, of molasses. “We have the same eyes,” he says happily.

Hephaestus releases him instantly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” he asks, “The mortals talk of you. No one else will. But you’re my brother, right?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, “Does Zeus know where you are?”

He shrugs, taking a step closer. His brother takes a step back. He wonders if he’ll have to treat Hephaestus like a spooked horse.  “Father doesn’t keep track of where I am. Mom know I’m on earth.” Hephaestus flinches, small enough that he almost doesn’t notice. “We have her eyes, you know.”

He can’t stop starring at Hephaestus’s skin. They do not work like mortals – Demeter, Hestia, Zeus, and Hera are all different shades despite coming from the same parents. But – Ares looks so much like his father. Kore looks like Demeter. Yet Hephaestus looks nothing like their father. He can see their mother in him, in the eyes and shape of his jaw, even in how angry he is right now. He looks like Hera does when she’s about to lose her temper, lips pressed into a thin line and the careful stillness of his shoulders.

“I wasn’t trying to make you angry,” he says plaintively, “I only wanted to say hello.”

Unlike their mother, Hephaestus lets out a deep breath and seemingly all of his anger along with it. “I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Why? You don’t even know me.”

Hephaestus kicks him lightly in the shin, the pretty gold and copper of his metal legs catching his eye. “You have legs, and I do not. Hera did not throw you from Mount Olympus as she threw me.”

Ares looks hard at his brother’s face. The stories say his mother threw her son away for being ugly, but he seems just as handsome as any other god Ares has seen. His features are strong and chiseled, and he supposes that could have looked unattractive on a baby, but –

– his mother loves him. Hera loves him with a ferocity only matched by her temper, she loves him at his most mischievous and irritable, loves him when a stray thunderbolt sets Demeter’s hair on end, loves him when even Artemis and Apollo have grown tired of his antics, loves him when Athena can tolerate no more of his questions. He is her son, and so her love comes without conditions.

He doesn’t think Hera would have loved his brother any less just because of how he looked.

He also knows that if he tries to say that, it’s likely Hephaestus will push him into a lava pit.

“Well, that’s not my fault,” he says, “If you don’t want us to be brothers, can’t we at least be friends?”

Hephaestus’s face softens. He looks like their mother then too.  He crosses his arms, “You can’t tell your parents.”

Our parents, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Obviously. Where did you get so many cyclopes?”

The last remnants of his brother’s stern façade shatters as he throws back his head and laughs.


Ares is very near maturity, more adult than child, and his father constantly pressures him to choose a domain. He usually quiets with one sharp glance from his wife, but the fact remains that it is time for Ares to take his place among the gods of the pantheon, to have temples in his name and worshipers like a proper deity.

He doesn’t really want any of that.  He wants to continue hunting with Artemis, learning with Athena, building with Hephaestus.

His brother lets him help out in his workshop sometimes, if he’s very careful and does exactly as he’s told. Otherwise he sits on a table, legs swinging, and watches his brother work and tells him about what he does in the time in-between visits. He talks about their mother enough that Hephaestus doesn’t flinch at her every mention, which Ares can only consider an improvement. Sometimes Brontes will stand beside him and they’ll eat sweet buns together.

Unfortunately, all things, good and bad, must come to an end.


There are two giants, Otus and Ephialtes, who grow tired of hearing of the golden boy of Olympus, who grow jealous of his kindness and his beauty.

These two giants sneak onto Mount Olympus in the middle of the night, sneak into Ares’s room, and kidnap him. They’re not stupid enough to attempt to kill him. Instead, they stuff him into an urn, and seal him inside. Ares rages and fights, uses every trick he can think of to break out his prison, but none of them work.

Stuck at the bottom of the urn and seething, he can’t help but think that if he’d listened to his father and chosen a dominion he might be strong enough to free himself. But he didn’t, so he can’t, and instead he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Days turn to weeks turn to months. He knows they’re looking for him. He knows his mother will tear apart the whole universe attempting to find him if nothing else. But – what if they can’t? What if he’s stuck in this urn for the rest of eternity?

In his darkest moments, his sorrow turns to rage. He is a god, son of Hera and Zeus, how dare they do this to him?

Then, one day, the urn opens.

Hermes peers down into it, then his face splits into a grin. “We’ve been looking for you!” He reaches down and hauls Ares out, and for a moment all he can do is blink at the glaring sun. Then his vision clears, and he sees they’re in the midst of a battle. The giants are fighting against the gods, against his parents, against the twins, against his brother. It’s bloody carnage, but – he can’t help but feel touched that all these people came looking for him. “Almost everyone offered to help find you,” he says, “but Hera didn’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves trying to sneak into their territory.”

No sooner has Hermes finished speaking than a giant barrels into his mother with sickening snap. Her shoulder slopes at a grotesque angle, but it hardly even slows her down.

“I have to help,” he says, a desperate urgency filling him. They came to help him, and now they’re getting hurt. That’s never something he’d wanted.

“Ares, wait!” Hermes calls out as he goes hurtling toward the battle. He doesn’t wait. Fighting on the ground can only do so much good, they’re strong but they’re outnumbered one hundred to one. He darts to Artemis, twisting around the bodies she’s throwing over her shoulder. “I need your bow!”

“Ares!” she says joyously, then, “What?”

“Trust me,” he says, “give me your bow.” A giant comes running towards them. Artemis flips him over her shoulder while continuing to stare at him in confusion. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so worried. “Artemis, please!”

She hands over her bow. She moves to give him her quiver of arrows as well, but he’s already moving away from her. Next it’s to his father, who’s hurtling lightning bolts towards the swarm of giants crowding him. They’re deadly, but only so effective at close-range. He grabs a sizzling lightning bolt right from Zeus’s hand, the only being on the planet who could do that and survive, and keeps running. “Get clear!” he calls out over his shoulder. “Everyone move!”

He runs up past Hermes, needing to get to high ground for this to work. “Get everyone off the battlefield,” he says to Hermes. “Now.”

Hermes pulls a face, but by the time he makes it to the top of the mountain, the gods have shaken off most of the giants, are far enough away that he doesn’t have to worry.

He can do this. He’s Ares, the son of Hera and Zeus. He’s been trained in archery by the great huntress herself. He breaths in, and strings his father’s lightning bolt like an arrow. He pulls it back, breaths out, and lets the lightning bolt fly.

It lands in the middle of the battlefield full of confused giants. With a great clap of thunder and a burst of light, they’re all gone.

All that remains of the traitorous giants is a crater.

The gods are approaching him, his mother at a limping gait that makes his chest ache. Zeus gets to him first, grin stretched wide as he grabs him by both his shoulders. “My boy! That was magnificent!”

“Thanks,” he says. The smell of charred flesh is in the air, and it makes his stomach roll.

They kidnapped him. They stuffed him in an urn for over a year. They hurt his mom.

That doesn’t mean he enjoyed it. He never wants to do anything like that ever again.

“This was destiny,” his father says enthusiastically, and Ares has no idea what he’s talking about. “This is what you’re meant to do, son.”

He stares. He hopes it’s not.

The other gods are still at the bottom of the mountain. Artemis and Apollo each have one of his mother’s arms slung over their shoulders and are helping her up the mountain. Hermes and Hephaestus aren’t far behind.

He’s never seen his father look so proud of him. There’s a leaden pit in his stomach he can’t explain.

“In honor of my son’s great feat,” Zeus booms, his voice carrying across air, speaking with the voice of the king of the gods so his words become law, so they spread to every corner of the world, “I declare him Ares, God of War.”

Ares can’t breathe.

This isn’t what he wanted.

gods and monsters series, part xvii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

pjo theatre au

have some theatre au headcanons because it is that time of the year again and ya girl nia is in Theatre Hell™

  • Piper basically lives in the theatre ok aside from volunteering at her local animal shelter sometimes she doesn’t have a life outside of this
  • She is the Drama Queen. Head Thespian.
  • imagine every theatre stereotype you’ve ever heard. that is piper.
  • Jason is literally that kid who remembers everything. He’s memorized the script, all the blocking, all the cues. h o w
  • annabeth is SM and she’s never taken a job this seriously in her entire academic career
  • if you miss a rehearsal without informing her at least two days in advance she will make it her mission to hunt you down
  • nico absolutely hates being in the spotlight but he always volunteers to work crew for a show so annabeth promotes him to ASM
  • they’re both really intimidating so you can imagine the productions the department put on are A1
  • percy was that one swimming jock who decided to give theatre a try and ended up being crazy talented
  • he performed Sante Fe for a showcase one time and everyone was moved to tea r s
  • Leo, Rachel, and Hazel are those who like to double as techies and actors
  • honestly there would probably be no set ever if they didn’t have Leo
  • Rachel is basically #1 when it comes to publicity ok she designs all the posters and t-shirts for the productions
  • she once made everyone “I can’t, I have rehearsal.” T-shirts for the hell of it
  • but when she decides to act in a production she leaves that to Hazel because boy does she immerse herself in her characters
  • She takes method acting so seriously like when she was casted as Madea she literally started a protest outside the school over the dress code
  • piper: “i’m a thespian” someone: “did you say lesbian” piper: “that too”
  • Calypso is in charge of costuming and if she doesn’t make the most beautiful intricate well put together costumes every damn time
  • Frank usually just does run crew and honestly they wouldn’t have it any other way because he can lift set pieces that would usually take like 3 ppl
  • he also goes and gets pizza for everyone during tech week thx frank
  • everyone has seen each other half naked at one point it’s not even weird anymore
  • “nico the production is over you don’t have to wear your show blacks anymore” “what are you talking about these are my normal clothes”
  • it’s a tradition to have the entire cast go out to eat after a final performance in stage makeup and all 
  • everyone in the ihop gives them strange looks
  • the employees are used to it
  • they hate them
  • glitter. glitter everywhere.
  • Antigone. Madea. Oedipus. Trojan Women. Heracles. all sold out.
  • Greek plays are just their specialty lol no one’s sure why
  • once piper and percy convinced half the department to stand on the side of road at a busy intersection and bucket fundraise
  • they also ran around a nearby parking lot for a Wal-Mart and put their show flyers in the windshields of parked cars
  • leo almost got hit by a car twice
  • their director made them run laps when they found out but it was fcking worth it
  • a pre-show tradition they always do is to have everyone drink a cup of tea and then do the penguin dance
  • if you don’t know what the penguin dance is i’m referring to this 
  • someone once dared leo to say the M word for 20 bucks and hE DID RIP IN PEACE
  • that day during their dress rehearsal they had a stage light fall, 3 broken props, one costume malfunction, several missed cues, and their director tripped during a blackout and split their forehead open and had to be taken to the hospital for stitches
  • Annabeth wanted to kill him lol it took Nico Percy and Piper to hold her back

Pairing: Jim x Reader 

Word Count: 2643

Warnings: Some swearing, fluff

A/N: Wow I definitely didn’t intend for it to be that long. Also, one day I’m gonna get everything together and start making headers for these posts, but that day is not today. Today I’m going to sleep because I’m currently dying from cramps. Hope you guys enjoy, though! Also, there’s a pic of the bike I mention at the bottom of the fic if any of you are curious. 

You knocked frantically on Jim’s door. Bones was gonna kill you. A few seconds passed without answer and you pressed your ear to the door, listening for movement. Hearing nothing, you pounded on the door again.

“Jesus Jim answer the goddamn door,” you called.

If Jim could’ve yanked open the automatic door, you’re sure he would’ve. He was scowling deeply, hair sticking up in all directions - the first time you’d seen it anything less than perfect. His shirtless torso was still perfect, though, and those gray sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips were downright tantalizing.

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You Forgot Your Change!

A Shitty/Lardo meet-cute for a prompt I saw earlier today: You look like you can barely afford to eat out, and you still gave me the best tip I have ever received from a single person. [Also on AO3]

In theory, taking a job waiting tables at the posh restaurant near the yacht club was genius. Where better to make big tips than a place frequented by people who clearly had too much money?

Turns out, rich people didn’t tip that well. Lardo had no idea why, but it appeared to be the truth. She still needed the job, though, so she stuck with it. Art supplies weren’t cheap, and she had a show coming up.

Not that today is going to be much help for her art supply fund. She maybe shouldn’t have made the mistake of inadvertently insulting hyperrealism earlier, because now Beth Ann, who was hostess this afternoon, was assigning all the stingiest people she could find to Lardo’s section. It wasn’t even like Lardo had said it was bad! She just said it was technically impressive, but often compositionally uninteresting. It wasn’t like she’d memorized the portfolios of all her fellow servers.

Looking at the guy Beth Ann had just seated, she thought maybe she should consider it, just out of self-preservation. Because this guy didn’t look like he fit in with this restaurant’s usual clientele at all. He didn’t fit in with this entire side of town at all. He was wearing an American flag denim vest over a slogan tee, for god’s sake. He looked vaguely like a refugee from the set of Dazed and Confused; he looked like a dine-and-dash waiting to happen.

Still, she was a professional. Sort of. Whatever. She had standards, anyway. So she stepped up to the table in complete customer service mode and asked what she could get him.

“I dunno, man, you think I could start with a little light socialism?”

She blinked at him. She was generally prepared to deal with customers who went off script, but this was pushing it, even for her. “I’ll see what I can do about that. How about a drink while you wait for the revolution?”

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For You / Ieyasu x MC

Week 2


Whenever she asked him questions about himself, he always felt something cold move across him, as if he were iced from the inside, his organs and nerves being protected by a sheath of frost. In that moment, though, when the words slipped past her lips, he thought he might break, that if he said anything the ice would shatter and he would splinter and crack. So he waited until his voice sounded normal before he let the words fly:

“No,” he sneered, “I don’t need you anymore tonight. Or any other night. Know your place, kitchen wench.”

She took a long time to respond. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, milord,” she said, quietly, and though he didn’t look at her, staring hard at his book, he had felt her eyes on him the whole way, bearing down and heavy, until the moment she passed through his door and melted into the night.

The problem was that she was greedy for information: she wanted to know how he had been raised, and if he had any siblings, and who his friends were, true friends, and whether he preferred one flavour over another. And sometimes the air grew so hot not only with the questions she was asking, but the manner in which they were asked — honest, guileless and a little too foolish for a cook from Kyoto — that he felt strangled by their weight and frequency and inevitability.

She wanted to know so much; she wanted so many answers. And he understood it, he did— he wanted answers, too. He wanted to know everything about her as well, but while she had made her intention as clear as an arrow’s twang, he couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate, in part because of who he was, who he was meant to be, but also because he wasn’t sure whether it was worth the endeavour. If she was worth the effort.

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN FROM YOURS TRULY! Here’s a spooky one-shot that’s a part of my Klance YouTuber AU Series (which I’m excited to finally be continuing, as I haven’t written for it in a while)!

Lance, Keith, Pidge, and Hunk decide to film a video using a Ouija Board to celebrate Halloween. Lance is amused, Keith is wary, Pidge is skeptical, and Hunk is terrified. Hilarity (and horror) ensues. I hope you enjoy!

“Hey guys!” Lance waved and, pulling the cape he wore around to cover the lower his face, wiggled his eyebrows. “Happy Halloween! Boy, do we have a treat in store for you today. Don’t we, guys?”

“Not an actual treat,” Hunk said. “Last year we tried to do a Halloween baking video, and we all know how much of a disaster that turned out to be.”

“In my defense, it was a ghost that knocked the tray out of my hands and onto the floor,” Pidge claimed, glancing at the ceiling. “I didn’t drop it.”

“You ruined all of our perfectly good s'mores,” Keith pointed out, crossing his arms.

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “Keith, your s'mores looked like they got hit by a bus. Frankly, I did them a favor.”

Lance snorted, which he quickly tried to disguise with a cough. Keith still glared at him. “Right. Well, this year the four of us are doing something even more holiday appropriate! Per popular request, we’re going to be using a Ouija Board!”

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happy birthday keith: a sickfic

so a little while ago, I put out a post asking for suggestions on what to write for keiths birthday. @radiofreekerberos suggested shiro throw keith a surprise party (thank you sm btw), and I tried a lot of different ideas but nothing was coming lol so went to my default which is sicfics. and even then here I present the worst thing ive ever written :P

but the only way i wouldnt write for my boys birthday is if i was dead. 

Fall was a pretty good season. Pretty colours, Halloween, pumpkin spice everything, perfect jacket and scarf weather—usually. Today, Keith had realized too late, was perfect raincoat and boots weather.

He shivered, pulling his sweater tighter around his shoulders. He was already miserable, and now this. Granted, it was just a light rain, but he had also been plagued with a persistent case of the sniffles. After sneezing and shaking all day, suffering through school and work like a braindead zombie, Keith was more than ready to go home and rest, rain be damned.

When he had clocked out of work, he’d felt a nagging in the back of his mind, like he’d been forgetting to do something. But he’d done everything he was supposed to, hadn’t he? Clean the tables, sweep the floors, empty the register, lock up. That was it. He’d done it all. Maybe he just felt off because he wasn’t usually the one to lock up he diner. It was Hunk’s diner, and he was usually the last one out, so naturally the one to lock up everyday. But today he’d left Keith in charge for the last hour before closing time, claiming he had some sort of important business to take care of. He refused to say what this business was, which was odd because Hunk usually never kept secrets. It was pretty much physically impossible for him, and even today he’d looked like he was about to burst.

It was odd, Keith thought, Hunk had been avoiding him most of the day. Unlike the odd feeling of a forgotten obligation.

Keith checked his bag. He went over all his possessions, taking inventory. Textbooks, work clothes, pencils and papers. A few assignments his professor had handed back today. Keith was actually pretty proud of those; they’d gotten good marks. Maybe he was forgetting an upcoming college project. He checked his phone, but there were no reminders.

After coming up emptyhanded, he decided to push away the feeling and just focus on getting warm. The rain was freezing, and his teeth were chattering, nose running, fingers numb. He wasn’t sure if it was raining harder now, and that was why he couldn’t see, or if his vision was just going blurry because he was exhausted. He didn’t care. He just wanted to be home, in bed. His clothes were soaked now, and his shoes pooled with water wherever he stepped, squelching on the pavement.

There were about two blocks to go until he would be home. Keith tried to focus on that. He plodded along, head down, trying and failing to avoid all the puddles. When he looked up to cross the street, his body couldn’t keep up with his eyes, and the world started spinning much too fast and he was stumbling out into the street.

A flash of headlights and the too-loud sound of a horn, the screech of brakes. The car slammed to a halt just feet away, spraying Keith in a shower of dirty puddle water. The driver screamed at him, but Keith couldn’t make out what was being said over the torrential downpour and the ringing of his ears. He scurried out of the road, trembling even harder because now not only was he freezing, but holy shit he’d almost been hit by a car.

The apartment door was locked. Shiro must not be home, Keith figured. He liked sharing an apartment with Shiro. It was easier on rent, and it was nice to not be alone. Keith had been alone a lot, and while he did like his solitude, Shiro had made him realize that being all alone all the time wasn’t all that great. Keith clumsily wiped the water from his face as he searched for his keys, and he didn’t want to admit it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a few tears had been wiped with it, because now he was thinking about a little raven-haired kid, all alone on the streets, no idea who his mother was, no clue where his father went, scared and hungry and tired and ready to give up. Until Shiro had taken him in and given him a real family, for the first time.

Keith finally found his keys, and as he slid them into the lock he was silently berating himself for getting so emotional all of a sudden. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he get a grip? And why was he so cold? Pointless questions swirled in his mind, and the more he thought, the worse it got, until he found the strength to grip the door handle. At least he was pretty sure he did, he still couldn’t feel his fingers, all he wanted to do was get inside and go to bed, but there was still the feeling he’d forgotten something and not knowing was making him feel sick to his stomach—


Keith nearly toppled over backwards from the sheer force of the six voices all screaming in unison. He blinked, trying to take in the scene in front of him. Shiro, Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura and Coran were positioned around the room, wearing pointed paper hats and cheering and throwing streamers. Pidge had three kazoos sticking out of her mouth and was violently blowing out a tune that sounded oddly similar to “Here Comes the Bride,” and she was spread out like a starfish, holding a sparkly happy birthday banner that was nearly as big as her. Evidently it had been made by Lance, who was covered head to toe in glitter and waving around a bunch of balloons. Hunk stood behind the kitchen table in front of a cake. The yellow headband he always wore had been replaced by a weave of ribbons.

“Happy birthday, Keith!” Lance shouted. Keith just stared at him.

“You didn’t forget your own birthday, did you?” Shiro asked. He had a large red gift box held in his arms.

Keith blinked again. He could see Allura and Coran out of the corner of his eye. Coran had his hands held behind his back. Allura’s were pulled up under her chin, excitedly awaiting Keith’s reaction.

Keith continued to stare. The room fell silent. The banner drooped. The gift was set down. The balloons stilled. Keith just stared, at his friends, the decorations, the cake. It was too much. Too much noise, too many sparkles, too many people. Too much for his rain-soaked, pounding head to compute all at once.

He felt his face grow hot. His knees went weak, and he sunk to the floor, and before he could stop himself, he was sobbing.

He didn’t process what was being said, but he heard voices, words. They sounded worried.

“Oh, dear.” Allura.

“Perhaps we surprised him too much.” Coran.

“Aw, gee, man, you walked all that way without an umbrella?” Lance.

“Guys, he doesn’t look so good.” Hunk.

Keith felt a pair of tiny hands gently finding his wrists, and he curled his fingers around them. Through a haze of tears, he saw light glinting off Pidge’s glasses. “Hey, Keith, what’s the matter?”

“I-I-I-I’m-I’m ss-sorry,” Keith cried. He wiped furiously at his eyes, fists stilled balled up with Pidge’s teeny little fingers. He could barely talk, his throat felt so tight. How could his face fell so hot when the rest of him was freezing cold?

“Hey, it’s okay, Keith, it’s okay.” Keith felt a strong, warm hand on his back, and he leaned towards it, into Hunk. Hunk was warm, and it helped ease Keith’s shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Keith repeated.

Shiro looked down at him thoughtfully. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…don’t feel very well.”

Suddenly there was a hand brushing his bangs from his forehead, blessedly cool on his too-hot face. Keith sighed in relief as Shiro moved closer and shifted the hand to cup his cheek, and press against his brow.

“He’s burning up,” Shiro said. Keith got the feeling Shiro wasn’t talking to him anymore, because everyone else seemed to jolt to attention.

“You mean he’s sick?” Lance asked worriedly.

“Aw, Keith, why didn’t you say anything?” Hunk frowned.

“Didn’t give me much of a chance,” Keith mumbled, chasing the last traces of tears from his face. He was still shivering.

Shiro wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you some dry clothes, huh?”

Keith nodded, and before he could protest Shiro was scooping him up off the ground. There wasn’t really any sense in trying to wriggle free now, Keith figured, was there? He coughed wetly, congestion settling in his lungs. He really should have taken an umbrella.

“We’re terribly sorry, Keith,” Allura said softly. “We thought a surprise party might be a good way to celebrate your birthday. I see now we were wrong.”

Keith shook his head lightly, managing a soft smile. “It’s okay, Allura.”

“Is there anything I can do? Perhaps Coran and I could run to the drugstore to get you some medicine?”

“Ye—” Keith was cut short by a harsh coughing fit.

“That would be great,” Shiro answered for him.

Shiro brought him to his room, helped him towel off his hair, and found him some dry pyjamas. Keith changed, and crawled into bed. The soft enclosure of blankets made him sleepy, and he vaguely thought that this was the most content he’d felt all day.

“You do know it’s your birthday today, right?” Shiro sat next to him on the bed.

“I, uh…might have forgot.”

Shiro sighed. “I’m really sorry, Keith. This whole surprise party was my idea. I know we never really did anything for your birthday other years, but this year I thought you might enjoy it. I’m sorry I’ve ruined your special day.”

“Shiro, you didn’t ruin anything. I’m sorry I messed it all up by getting sick. I—" Before he could say anything more, there was a knock at the door, and Lance, Hunk, and Pidge appeared. Hunk held a steaming mug of tea in his hands, which Keith accepted gratefully.

“How do you feel now?” Lance asked. He sat on Keith’s other side.

Keith decided to just be honest. He’d probably already made a fool of himself anyway. “I feel cold.” The rain had somehow seeped into his bones, and now he was chilled all the way through. Shiro put an arm around his shoulders and rubbed the goosebumps that dotted Keith’s bicep. Lance found his way to Keith’s side, and Pidge spread herself over his legs. Keith felt their warmth, their love and support, and he was pretty sure it was the best birthday present he had ever received. He told them as much.

“Oh, speaking of presents,” Hunk jumped up, “you still haven’t gotten to open yours.” He ducked out of the room and returned moments later with the red box. “From all of us,” he said.

Keith inspected it closely. Nobody had ever really given him a birthday present before, other than Shiro, and that had always been something like a candy bar, or a pair of socks. Not that Shiro didn’t care, of course, he just knew that Keith didn’t like making a big deal over things like that. This year was different, though. Keith had begun to come out of his shell, and Shiro had noticed, or else he wouldn’t be surrounded by all his closest friends right now.

Keith tentatively tore at the paper.

“Come on, dude, don’t be scared,” Lance grinned. “It isn’t gonna hurt you.”

Keith ripped the rest off, and opened the box. From the folds of tissue paper inside, he produced a thick, leather-bound book.

“Open it, “Shiro encouraged.

Keith flipped open the cover. The paper inside was a warm, off-white colour, thick and grainy. Each of his friends’ signatures were scrawled around the page, around a photo of the seven of them laughing and making silly faces. It was a scrapbook.

He turned the page, nervous under his friends’ expectant eyes. This page was filled with more photos, candid shots of playing video games with Pidge and Lance, him and Hunk with frosting on their noses, Shiro spraying them all with the hose, selfies in bathroom mirrors, sitting at coffee shops, walking down trails. Keith kept turning pages, a smile creeping up his face as he remembered all the days these pictures had been taken. There were other things, too, a movie ticket, a receipt from the hospital when Keith had broken his arm, a fallen leaf from the national park. There was so much, but all of it had one thing in common: every photo, every memory, was of a time when Keith and his friends had all been together.

“Wow, guys, I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“We’re glad you like it,” Hunk smiled.

“And look,” Pidge’s eyes glowed as she thumbed through the remaining pages, “we left you some blank ones, so that you can add your own stuff.”

Keith couldn’t help the dumb grin that was splitting his face. “Thank you,” he repeated. “I can’t believe you guys did all this for me. I’m just so sorry I messed it all up.”

“No way,” Shiro said. He tightened his grip around Keith’s shoulder. “You didn’t ruin anything. We’re sorry we forced this onto you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this is one birthday I’m sure to never forget,” Keith said. It was true. Not because he was sick, not because he’d burst into tears—though that would probably haunt him for some time—but because this birthday had been spent with people he cared about. And they, in turn, cared about him. Keith rested his head on Shiro’s chest and let his eyes flutter shut. He felt Lance’s breathing even out next to him, Pidge on his legs, and Hunk’s warmth by his feet.

By the time Allura and Coran returned with the medicine, the five of them were all asleep.

Tears Amongst the Stars

Read now on Ao3.

Notes: What Lapis and Peridot have isn’t abusive. It is flawed and in parts unhealthy but not abusive. Here’s a revelation guys, relationships aren’t perfect. They aren’t all sunshine and rainbows. They’re hard work, angry shouts and shed tears as much as they’re warm hugs and tender kisses. That’s life. That’s reality. I think sometimes here in shipping land we forget that.

And quite frankly I’m tired of being vilified for enjoying an “abusive” ship and I’m sick of the double standard applied to Lapis’ character by some parts of the fandom. Things that other characters are praised for or that draw sympathy are used to paint Lapis like Satan.

You don’t have to like Lapis or Lapidot, it’s perfectly fine if you don’t. But stop making up shit to justify your hatred and stop attacking those who disagree with you.

Summary: Sometimes what you think you need is actually the worst possible thing for you. Or Lapis’ experience during the events of “Back to the Kindergarten”.

It was cold, quiet and utterly desolate. Lapis wasn’t sure what corner of the galaxy she was in exactly, after she’d left Earth she’d just picked a random direction and flew herself and the barn away as quickly as possible. She sat curled in on herself in the center of the barn, arms around her knees and face hidden within them. Frigid starlight twinkled in the distance, distorted slightly by the water bubble Lapis was maintaining around her precious home. The focus required to keep the water liquid in the vacuum of space was a welcome distraction. But it wasn’t enough to dull the throbbing ache in her chest or the biting pain behind her eyes. She’d left them.

Steven, Pumpkin…


She tightened her grip around her knees, so tight it felt like she might break her legs. Peridot. She’d left Peridot behind. After everything Peridot had done for her, after all the support and care she’d shown her. And Lapis, selfish and horrible Lapis, had left her behind.

“She lied to me,” she mumbled into the crushing silence around her. “Why didn’t she just tell me!? Tell me when…tell me when things were wrong.”

It was a small comfort. A weak justification.

Peridot had lied to her because she was afraid of her. Afraid of what Lapis might say. Afraid of what Lapis might do. That was the only conclusion Lapis could come to. Why else would Peridot hide what she really thought?

And could Lapis blame Peridot? She was a monster. She should have known better. After Malachite she shouldn’t have risked being with anyone. She’d only bring them pain in the end. Only wrap chains around their life and drag them somewhere they didn’t want to be.

She unfolded herself then and simply allowed her form to drift through the empty barn. Morps, their morps, floated everywhere. Each one she observed as she hovered aimlessly brought back a memory. Of how they’d made it, of how excited Peridot was to show them off, of how much happiness the pursuit had brought both of them. Together.

Was that all a lie? Was it simply Peridot placating her. Going along with the creative pursuit out of a fear for how Lapis may react otherwise? What had been real about their relationship? Was there a relationship at all? Or was Peridot simply afraid, simply trying to appease a being who could potentially destroy the planet they lived on if she was in a bad mood. Lapis didn’t know and the not knowing was crushing her. What had she been doing to Dot all these months? How much had Peri been suffering without Lapis realizing it?

The thought ate at her. Lapis had been so selfish. So self absorbed. How could she have not seen what was happening? What she was doing? A glimmer towards the roof of the barn caught her eye then. A green flicker in the pale light. It was a bubble.

Peridot’s bubble.

Lapis drifted up towards the bubble seemingly against her will. Towards the most obvious reminder of her abandoned barn mate. She wrapped her hands around it and brought it close to her chest, letting the green glow wash over her. “Peridot…Peri, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered brokenly to the bubble. Her vision was blurry and distorted, making the green glow from Peridot’s bubble seem smudged and fuzzy.

She was crying.


She wrapped herself completely around the one part of her companion she could still touch and she let the sobs take her. Her shoulders shook and her weak, snuffling whimpers filled the barn interior. Tiny droplets of water, her tears, glittered all around her as she floated aimlessly around her home. Her own little field of stars.

But it wasn’t home anymore. Peridot wasn’t here. Without her it was just an empty husk full of bitter reminders of what she’d left behind. In her fear. In her panic. In her cowardice. She should have stayed. Should have fought like Peridot wanted.

 “Earth is our home now, isn’t it worth fighting for?”

As some of the last words she’d heard from her precious companion echoed through her mind Lapis recoiled, a painful sick feeling that she had no name for roiling through her stomach. She should have stayed. After everything Peridot had done for her, after all the support and comfort she’d given, how could she just leave? But…but how could Peridot stay? Why couldn’t she have come with her? Lapis had learned to love the Earth, but the Diamonds… the Diamonds would be coming.

The Diamonds would be coming with their unstoppable rage and there would be another war and Lapis would have the fight and she couldn’t do that again. But Peridot…What was going to happen to her now that Lapis was gone? The thought raged within her until it burst through her lips in a helpless scream. She released Peridot’s bubble to float back amongst the rafters as she filled the barn with her anguish. Her chest was so tight and she was breathing so fast, which was ridiculous, she didn’t even need to breath! But it hurt not to and the ache in her chest was stronger and she didn’t know what was wrong but it was terrible. She couldn’t bare it. Peridot…

“I think we can win. I think you can win.”

“Maybe you can win Peri, but I…I can’t. I can’t go through that. Not again,” she whispered to the darkness as she let her body go limp, her anguish spent for the moment, the iron bands around her chest lax enough to be merely a discomfort instead of an agony. Then she started crying again. She’d lost track of how many times she’d cried. Mourning everything she’d lost. Mourning everything she’d ruined.

It was cold and lonely amongst the stars.

#157 - For anonymous x2

Filling the prompts “Van taking care of YN when she gets home stupidly drunk out of her mind but she’s super happy clingy and loving drunk and he helps remove her makeup and undo her hair before she gets in bed and cute fluff shit” and “this person is friends with Van and can’t just admit she likes his band, so she just says it sucks all the time”

You looked at the driver again. “Wait. Why don’t you want the money?”

She sighed. “Honey. We just went through this. This isn’t a taxi. It’s an uber. You pay through the app automatically. Put that away before you get jumped,” she explained, pushing your hand away. You looked around, still confused. “This is your house?” she asked. Following where she pointed, you shook your head. “What? It’s not? Fuck. Where do you live?”

“Uhhhhhh… Other side of the city,” you told her. She was getting frustrated. Already politely ignoring your muddy gumboots and the amount of glitter you were leaving on the seat, she had been incredibly patient.

“Who the fuck lives here? Why did you put this address in?”

“Van lives here,” you answered happily. Suddenly you realised that is what you needed. Van. Completely. “Van!” you said again, getting out the car. The girl followed you and lingered at the gate as you knocked on the door. Lights were on inside. The door opened. Van! You fell forward, forcing him to let go of the door and quickly catch you.

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Bromeo & Dudeliet - Snippet #1

so, uh, this is a complete clusterfuck. It’s set in Verona when the original romeo and juliet was, but they talk like modern-day people. also the characters are wherever the fuck i want them to be. lmao i know barry’s supposed to be a Neverbone but idgaf.

based on @therubyjailcell​ ‘s excellent egobang romeo & juliet au.

for future reference: i’m only gonna be doing lil snippets here and there, probably not even in chronological order. this is just a silly thing i’m having waaaay too much fun with.



Of course, he’d heard of the Neverbone family before.

How could he not? They lived in the same fucking city, after all. Besides his family, they were the most prominent family in Verona. They were not only rich and affluent, they were also gigantic goddamn snobs.

To say the two families didn’t particularly get along would be an understatement. They despised each other. But that was to be expected.

Even Danny had to admit to himself that his family was a little…rambunctious. The Sexbang family, his relatives, had a long history of throwing wild parties, doing whatever they wanted, and generally always taking life one day at a time. They rarely married, instead preferring hook-ups and quick relationships. Danny liked to think his family just knew how to have a good time. It didn’t hurt that the Sexbangs had a long history of being extremely good-looking and, ahem, charismatic.

While he’d never met or even seen the main family from the Neverbone house, he’d crashed enough parties to mix with some of the outer family members. The Neverbones threw very “respectable” parties—more like formal dances than actual parties. It was a hobby of Danny and his cousins to crash said parties.

The Neverbones were high-and-mighty, too. They never had sex before marriage, did everything the “proper” way, and were sure to hold it above everyone’s heads. They did not mingle outside their social class and everything in that place was pristine and polished. They took being wealthy very seriously. They never swore, dressed properly to everything, and had a code of morals. Even Danny had to admit, though, they were respectable people and held fast to their beliefs. He just thought the whole thing was so boring.

Danny had always wondered about them, though. He was the son of the head of the Sexbang family, but since the families were always quarreling they’d never been invited to a Neverbone dance. Part of the reason he enjoyed crashing the dances was in hope that he’d spot the main family. Try as he might, he’d only ever seen the head the Neverbone family, but not his wife or siblings.

There was also a son of the Neverbone house, around Danny’s age, but the boy had never made an appearance. Danny had never seen him before and neither had anyone else. He was always in the innermost part of the main house, or so the rumor went. Danny was extremely curious about him. Was he bored all the time? Was he also a huge snob?

Danny found himself wondering about all this as his cousin, Barry, approached him from where he lounged under a tree. Barry was a little more reserved than the rest of the Sexbangs, preferring to watch rather than participate. He still knew how to have a good time, though.

“What are you doing here?” Barry asked, settling down beside Danny. “Weren’t you with that girl earlier?”

“Oh yeah. Rosaline, I think her name was,” Danny yawned, stretching. “Yup. She went home.”

Barry nodded. “Gotcha.”

The pair sat for a moment, enjoying the beautiful weather, before another pair of footsteps was heard and then Brian was grinning down at them.

Brian was another cousin of theirs, and he had a sadistic streak a mile long. His favorite activity was initiating conflict with the Neverbone family. “All in good fun,” Brian would claim, his eyes glittering mischievously.

“Hey, you shits,” Brian grinned. “Have you heard? The Neverbones are throwing a huge soiree tonight.”

“Again?” Danny asked, surprised. “They just had a dance last week. I would’ve thought they’d be too prim to throw another one so soon.”

“Yeah, they might be called partiers like those damn Sexbangs,” Brian cackled. “But this isn’t just any party. Rumor says he’s supposed to be there tonight. It’s his birthday.”

Barry sat up. “Who’s?”

Brian smirked. “The son of the head of the house. Arin Neverbone.”

Danny’s pulse quickened. “Really? He’ll actually be there?”

“So the rumor goes. I think it’s good information, though, because I confirmed the fact that it’s actually his birthday. What better birthday gift from the Sexbangs than to make his party a little more…interesting?”

Danny got to his feet, a grin already splitting across his face. “What kind of party is it?”

“The best kind. A masquerade ball.”

“So, there’ll be a few extra masks on the dance floor tonight.”

Brian smirked. “I’ve already got the costumes. How d’you feel about being a bard?”


A few hours later, Danny found himself decked out in a bright blue bard outfit with a red star on the front. His boots were white and his mask was blue. His curly hair had frizzed out, framing his face.

“We gotta tie this back,” Brian mumbled, yanking back Danny’s mane. “The hair’s a dead giveaway. You need your cape, too.”

A simple white cape that only went halfway down his back completed the outfit. Danny admired himself in a long mirror. You couldn’t even tell it was him.

“This is kind of dull for a costume, though,” Danny complained. “It needs some fluff and a bigger cape. Some more interesting shoes, too, and this costume could be more low-cut.”

“You forget we’re trying to sneak into a Neverbone party,” Brian grunted, putting on his ninja costume. “It has to look “modest and presentable” or those damn snobs will pick you out right away.”

Danny grunted in acknowledgement, smoothing out his costume. “I guess. I can’t wait to find Arin Neverbone. I’ve always wondered what kind of person he is.”

“He’s a Neverbone.” Brian shrugged. “He’s a snobby brat. My guess he’s a spoiled little boy that was waited on hand and foot. I’ll bet he doesn’t want to see common folk and that’s why he’s locked away all the damn time.”

“To be fair, he might just be following orders from his parents,” Barry put in, finishing slipping into his samurai costume. “They must be really strict.”

“Either way,” Danny replied, staring at his masked face, “he’ll be getting a few new party guests tonight.”

Brian let out a whooping laugh. “This’ll be the best goddamn birthday he’s ever had!”

anonymous asked:

I'm NOT the person who asked for that reader insert with the rival band, but I thought the way you wrote it is downright amazing. You are a really good writer, I wish I could be half as good as you. That being said, could I suggest you a sequel to that imagine? Like after awhile 2D reaches out to the other singer to hangout and they just spend the whole time spouting insults at each other and banging? Sorry this was so long haha. Pls don't ever stop writing c: <3

This has taken 2 months (or more?) of blood, sweat, and tears. Literal tears of frustration when I couldn’t find the words to write what I wanted to say, and also a bit of sweat because sometimes it was really hot in my room. And blood, cos I had a few nosebleeds.

On a more serious note, with this one I really wanted to show that the mood has changed from the first one. The first time around, both the reader and 2D were literally only looking for a hook up. This time however, there’s feeling from the start. There’s the stirrings of excitement and feelings and companionship that’s potentially dangerous for two high-profile people. I tried my hardest to convey that while 2D wants to go ahead with everything, the reader is trying to cut ties to avoid a painful situation. The reader knows that if she stays, she’ll fall in love with 2D, and likewise 2D with her. She wants it to happen, but she just can’t let it.

Do I put too much thought and weight into my writing? Probably. Is that why it took me so long to write? Yes. Am I going to stop doing it? No. 

Anyway, as (heavily) requested, here’s a sequel to the Rival Bands imagine (It was originally on Tumblr but I can’t find it so if anyone finds it can you send me the link to it. But for now, AO3 will have to do)

Also this shit show is twice as long as the first one. Wow!

It’s also here on AO3 under the name ‘If You’re Lucky’


Your teeth snag your lip, and you glance up and down the bar, trying not to appear as bored as you feel. The man beside you has almost ceased to exist, fading into a dull cloud of monotonous words and heady aftershave.

The club is cramped and densely packed with people. The crowd moves in unison, the lights swinging and making studded noses and lips and eyebrows glitter, highlighting the insane heads of multicoloured hair as they twist and turn across the room. Somewhere on the other side of the room, an electric guitar screeches, the crowd screaming back, and songs meld into each other in a crescendo of humming bass, heavy drums and almost shouted lyrics.

Punk is the order of the night, anarchy the prime special. This kind of club is the kind you’d be recognised at, if there were indeed anything about you to recognise. You blend in perfectly, all dark clothes and studded shoulders and heavy boots.

You won’t get recognised. Which is exactly why you’re here.

For escape.

The man moves a little closer, his mouth by your ear. There’s a row of three little silver studs in his eyebrow, and you stare at them out of the corner of your eye as he whispers something nonsensical but undoubtedly sexual in your ear, his hand creeping to encircle your wrist.

You pull away then, angling your body toward him, head on, and whipping your hand away. He looks mildly surprised, his studded eyebrow raised.

“You ok?”

“I’m not interested,” you tell him, and then, as an afterthought, add, “sorry,”

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anonymous asked:

Hi!!!!! I'm absolutely in love with your mafia au it makes me so happy, and your writing is amazing. I'm on the edge of my seat for more of your work!! I'm sure you've already gotten similar requests but could you do Link and Zelda getting together in that au and maybe even Zelda's father/other people finding out about it? Thanks!!

Thank you so much, this is one of the kindest compliments I’ve gotten regarding the mafia au and it really meant the world to me. Truthfully, this installment is a lot more than you asked for but I wasn’t able to restrain myself omg…

I am not going to lie, this one gets a little steamy. Not nsfw or clothes off, though. And this might be a little more heavy-hearted than usual. Also, there is quite a bit of blood and violence. Because of that, I’m bumping the rating up to M just to be safe. Full story is under the ‘read more’ cut.

Morning sunlight filtered in through Zelda’s balcony the morning of the wedding while Paya got to work on her thick blonde hair.

“Your hair is so pretty,” Paya smiled, combing her hands though the strands as she got to work on braiding.

“Thank you…” Zelda’s hands were in her lap, wringing around. She felt bad for being distant with her friend who was only trying to help, but her mind was racing. She couldn’t stop thinking about what happened last night…

“You wanted me to braid it into a bun, is that right?” Paya asked as she ran a brush through her long locks.

“Mhm…” Zelda didn’t miss the curious glint in her friend’s eye. “Sorry, I’m just… distracted.”

She hadn’t seen Link since the previous night, when he left shortly after they shared their first kiss with each other. While it had been Zelda’s first kiss ever, it was apparent that Link was skilled and had some previous experience. It was something she was trying not to dwell on much. She wouldn’t be able to see him again until the wedding, where he would be Mipha’s date. She was nervous about seeing him and knew she was bound to be jealous. She just wanted to see him… She knew that only he would be able to calm her nerves. Knowing he was awake and in the same house as her at that moment was nearly driving her insane.

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First Date

fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

pairing: Katt (Keith x Matt Holt)

rated: PG 

summary: Matt invites Keith to the fall festival.

words: 2,559

My week three entry for my fic-fest! It’s my new fav rarepair lol. – Now on AO3!

“Just ask him already,” Pidge said, finally fed up with her brother’s incessant worrying, “What’s the worse he can say?”

“He could say no,” Matt replied with a dramatic huff, “He has the power to reject my offer, me, and consequently, my feelings. It’s a little nerve-racking, Pidge.”

Matt watched his little sister roll her eyes before throwing her alien blanket off of her and stepping from couch cushion to couch cushion to reach her brother.

“Katie, what –“

Pidge plucked the phone from her brother’s hand. She scrolled through his contacts until she found Keith’s name and gagged at the red heart next to it. “Does he not know about the emoji.”

“No,” Matt said defensively.

Pidge hit his name to send a text. She typed, “Do you want to go to the festival w/ me?” and hit the blue arrow to send. She handed her brother’s phone back to him. Matt yanked it from her to assess the damage.

“Oh no, oh no, he’s read it, Katie! What do I do!” Matt said, overtly dramatic as he watched in horror as the little message bubble indicated Keith was typing. It stopped, and so did Matt’s breath.


Matt flopped down into the recliner as Katie returned to her nest on the couch. She pushed up her glasses, satisfied.

Matt told Keith he would meet him at the festival at eight. His heart skipped a beat when Keith sent, “See you there :).”

Matt paced around the house impatiently. He ate his lunch slowly, and had texted Shiro several times and was ignored. Matt chalked it up to Shiro being at work, but still, he needed someone to talk to. The clocked ticked closer and closer until it was seven p.m., and Matt finally trod up the stairs and to his room.

Matt made his way to his closet and flipped the light switch. His closet was a mess of formal clothing, torn shirts, and piles of clean jeans on one side while dirty laundry piled in a dark green basket on the other. His eyes scanned the section of formal clothing and thought about a button briefly before he dismissed the idea. He looked at his shirts, and due to the fact most, if not all, had holes in some way, shape, or form, he would have worn a t-shirt of some sort. That left him with his in-between clothes; shirts that were too casual to be considered formal, and too formal to be considered purely casual. He pulled out a light-wash denim button up and a pair of form-fitting khaki-colored jeans. He was putting on his socks when his phone started to ring.

He patted himself down before he realized it was still in his old pants. He dug it out and answered it before it could stop ringing.


“Hey Matt,” a relief washed over him when he realized it was Shiro’s voice, “I just saw all your texts. Are you alright?”

Matt’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing Keith in thirty minutes. “Yeah. Totally,” he lied. Shiro laughed.

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s just about as nervous as you are.”

Matt tried to picture Keith rushing about is room to get ready but failed to conjure an image.

“Are you trying to make me feel better, Shirogane?”

Shiro laughed again. “Not at all,” Matt laughed, “Keith sent me about a dozen snapchats with different outfit ideas.”

“Really?” Matt asked in disbelief. He didn’t see Shiro nodded, but felt it instead. “I have to go Shiro. It’s about time I start heading over to the festival.”

“Have a good night Matt.”

“That’s the plan,” Matt said before hanging up. Matt looked at his clock again, and it was twenty minutes until eight. He had enough time.

He walked down the stairs, and Pidge was still in her nest, except this time, a sandwich balanced on her blanket-covered knee.

“I look cool, right?” Matt said, proud of the ensemble he was wearing. He stuck his arms out and turned for his sister. She eyed him analytically before saying,

“You still look like a nerd to me.”


She laughed. “You look fine Matt. Now go before you’re late.”

Matt said his goodbye and left his warm house and into the cool autumn air. Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he walked the few blocks into their small town’s “downtown” area. From his viewpoint, he could see the various covered tents and warm lighting of the streetlights and lanterns. He could smell the fried food and the sweet scent of caramel. As he got closer, a line of hay cubes lined the walkway to the fall festival, a few jack-o-lanterns laughing at him as he walked.

He scanned the excited crowd of the festival until his eyes landed on a familiar mop of black hair. Keith was currently peering over a stall of custom-made knives. His red plaid long sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hair was tied back into a short ponytail. Matt approached him, and unsure of how to get his attention, he called out to him with a wave.

Keith turned, and Matt could feel his breath hitch in his throat. Keith looked stunning in the ambers of the setting sun. His skin held an ethereal glow and his purple eyes glittered in wonder. His face broke into a shy, small smile when he finally saw Matt. Matt’s heart skipped a beat.

Matt walked over and tried to emulate a fake, confident stride. “Going to add another knife to your collection?” Matt looked at the knives, their handles a relief of scenes, ornate and well-crafted. Matt took a gander at the knife he thought Keith was looking at: the blade was a holographic purple with a light blue shimmer. The handle was more decorative than practical, its design an intricate dedication to the cosmos. The price tag read $200.

“I’m thinking about it,” Keith replied coolly despite his blush. Keith eyed the knife one last time before saying, “You hungry?”

“Sure,” Matt replied. He had the urge to grab Keith’s hand. Matt shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the twitch. “I know a stall around the central plaza that has really good teriyaki chicken.” A wave of excitement flashed on Keith’s features and Matt felt his smile widen. Screw it. “Come on,” Matt grabbed Keith’s hand and pulled him through the growing crowd of the festival.

When they got to the booth, they had to wait in a relatively long line. The two boys talked about their different classes, and, “How was fencing practice, Keith?” and “Have you figured out the code for your robot yet, Matt?” It was a comfortable conversation that neither of them wanted to stop. Keith couldn’t stop looking away when Matt looked at him, and Matt couldn’t stop looking at Keith. It was a crush in its purest form, and the two boys were smitten with each other despite their obliviousness about the other.

When they got to the front of the line, Matt paid for their food, much to Keith’s dismay. Matt winked at him. “You can get drinks, alright?” Keith blushed. Small victories.

The two wandered around the festivals, looking at different stalls and buying small trinkets for themselves or family. Matt held their bags, and Keith bought himself hot chocolate and Matt apple cider. They made it to the middle of the plaza and sat on the edge of the water fountain, the cold stone sending a shiver up Keith’s spine.

“How do you like the Garrison so far?” Matt asked as he watched Keith take a sip of his drink. Keith looked thoughtful for a moment before replying,

“It’s better than the other places I’ve been.” Keith’s father moved around a lot due to his job. Keith wasn’t exactly an “Army Brat,” but he was pretty close to it. The Garrison is the fifth town Keith and his father had moved to this year, but it’s the first town Keith has found friends in. “A lot better,” he added.

Matt smiled to himself. “I’m glad.” He elbowed Keith jokingly, “I bet it’s ‘cause of me, right? I’m quite the charmer.” Matt posed goofily, chin resting in the curve between his thumb and forefinger. He smiled at Keith, expecting to make him laugh, but instead, a pink blush dusted high across Keith’s cheeks. Matt’s stomach kicked his ass.

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly. With a small bout of confidence, Keith smiled behind his thermal cup to Matt and said, “You’re a great deciding factor.”

Matt’s heart leaped out of his chest, up his throat, and almost splattered pathetically onto his lap. His mind turned a mile a minute and his thoughts were jumbled in tangled knots. He was expecting a cute laugh, not a vague confession. Matt certainly didn’t expect Keith to look up at him from behind Keith’s long eyelashes. He wished his heart would stop its beating.

Matt nervously scratched the tip of his nose. Keith was looking at him, expecting him to say something, and when Matt didn’t, Keith’s attention turned to the brown lid of his hot chocolate.

“I’m glad you think that, honestly,” Matt said quietly. His eyes were on the crowd in front of him; the busy stalls bustled with customers and children ran weaved through the crowd in a game of tag. Under a deep purple tent, a woman with starlight hair caught his attention. A black sign with gold foil lettering shimmered TAROT READINGS, and from her expression, she had been watching them. She made a gesture, her hands motioning Matt to continue on with what he was saying. Weird.

Matt looked at Keith, and the faint pink blush still high on Keith’s cheeks. “I mean that,” Matt added, a little oddly. Keith raised an eyebrow. “When you first came here, I thought, “Man, I’d sure love to befriend that guy,” but then Katie beat me to it, and I got the label, “Katie’s brother” even though I wanted to be your friend. And then, you spent the night for the first time, and I was like, “This is my chance to befriend this really cool guy,” and I thought you were so cool when you kicked my ass in Double Dash, and then you laughed and said –“

“Better luck next time,” Keith chuckled at the memory.

“Yes, yes!” Matt said exasperatedly. “I thought you were the coolest person ever, well, aside from me,” Keith elbowed him and Matt laughed, “I think that was the night I decided I liked you, uh,” red bloomed on Matt’s cheeks, “Liked you more than just the I-think-you’re-cool kind of like.” Matt stopped and thought about what he said. How embarrassing.

“This is a terrible confession,” Matt admitted.

Keith laughed, soft and hiding his snort behind a warm hand. “It’s not so bad,” Keith said, his smile wide and brilliant. The sun finally sank and gave way to a few scattered stars. The town lights glowed warmly against the cool dark blue. Subconsciously, Keith pushed a strand of black hair behind his ear. Matt followed the movement with his eyes. “It’s… nice”

“Nice.” Matt echoed. Keith is out of his league, isn’t he?

“I mean,” Keith stuttered out, “I’ve never really… I never heard a confession, more like, no one has ever confessed to me,” Matt turned to Keith, his companion looking down at his lid again. Maybe it was the cool autumn air that made his face a rosy pink. “And I never bothered with relationships before because I constantly move around.”

Matt’s heart sank.

“But I would like to. Be in a relationship with you, that is,” Keith hastily finished, sensing Matt’s disappointment. Keith covered Matt’s free hand with his own. Keith’s hand was noticeably warm while Matt’s hand was a stiff cold.

Matt laced their fingers together, glancing at their hands with a small smile. “Would you like to be my boyfriend, Keith?”

Keith squeezed Matt’s hand. “Yeah,” he started softly, “I’d really like that.” And just like that, with those few words, Matt’s heart lifted from the pits of his chest and high into the starry night sky.

The two finished their drinks and made their way through the festival again, this time, stopping by the Tarot Reading booth. Matt learned the woman’s name was Allura, and she told Matt that Keith had gotten a reading from her before Matt had arrived. Keith denied that fact with a cherry-red face, but his denial only made Matt and Allura laugh.

They left her booth, and Keith pulled Matt back toward the booth Keith was at when Matt first arrived. The knife he wanted was marked down fifty dollars, and Keith readily paid for the custom knife. Matt offered to pay, but Keith shook his head.

“How about you pay for dinner?”

Matt’s smile reached his ears in a goofy grin. “Sure thing.”

They ate dinner in a small café a few streets away from the downtown area. They shared an order of cheese fries and enjoyed their burgers. Matt plucked a fry from Keith’s hand once, twice, and on the third time, Keith got back at Matt by taking a long drink of his chocolate milkshake. Dinner lasted an hour longer than originally planned, the two caught up in talking about anything and everything and when town’s clocked signaled it was fifteen minutes until midnight, they left the café.

Matt walked Keith home, their hands clasped together and bodies huddled closely for warmth. Matt walked Keith up to the second floor of Keith’s apartment complex, and when they made it to his door, neither of them wanted to say goodbye.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Keith said, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “Thank you for taking me to dinner.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” Matt replied. Matt’s eyes shifted from Keith’s purple eyes to his lips. Matt wondered if he was being obvious.

He was.

Keith leaned forward, slightly on his tip-toes. Matt closed the gap by snaking his arm around Keith’s waist. The kiss was shy at first, but when Matt applied a little more pressure, Keith returned it. They pulled apart when the doorknob to Keith’s door twisted.

Matt took a step back as yellow light flooded the dark hallway.

“Keith,” a gritty voice said, “Oh.”

Matt waved to Keith’s father awkwardly. He’s only seen him once, and it was only in passing. The man was tall and almost pure muscle aside from a slight beer belly. Mr. Kogane regarded Matt with curious eyes, and then looked to his blushing son.

“Oh, don’t let me get in y’all’s way. Sorry, bud. There’s hot tea in the kettle. Yer friend is welcome to join in, too.”

“Dad,” Keith stressed, burying his face behind his hand. Mr. Kogane laughed and shut the door, returning them to the dark. Keith’s apartment light flickered on.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” Keith said from behind his hand. Matt removed it and kissed Keith’s forehead.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Keith nodded. “Sure.”

Matt watched Keith enter his apartment before finally leaving. He got a few odd looks as he walked home, and when he walked through the front door, Katie wondered if the goofy grin would still be there in the morning.

It was.

The Night Before

@whyimmathere A thing to go with your thing.

Three adults, even if two of them were smaller than average, was not a comfortable fit for the single-occupancy toilet at the back of Club Calavera. Even less so when one of them was on the verge of a panic attack and pacing frantically in tight circles.

Sebastian kept a firm grip on the back of his boss’ jacket as he turned towards Molly, who was muttering a steady stream of ‘oh god’s under her breath. “Doctor Hooper,” he said.

“Oh God, I’m gonna die,” Molly said, voice lifting into a wail. “Jim’s gonna kill me.”

Jim, bent over the sink dripping blood, snot, and tears, didn’t look in much of a state to kill anyone.

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Trolls thing I'm writing

Ok so I’ve finished the first chapter of a Trolls thing I’m writing which I’m calling “Night and Day” (vague title I know), I plan on unloading it to Archive, I just haven’t yet. This literally takes place right after the movie.. Like right after. Bare with me, I’m not a writer. Grammer is my enemy and words aren’t good friends of mine either. Oh and it typed this on my phone so I’m now realizing the “thought italics” aren’t showing up on tumblr so I apologize if some sentences don’t come off as thoughts, but here’s the first chapter of “Night and Day”.


Yes, Branch was sure “giggling” was the appropriate word to describe the loud strange hiccup like laughs currently escaping his mouth. It’s not that he’d never heard a giggle before, knowing Poppy all his life made that an impossibility. This, however, was the first time he could remember hearing himself do it. This felt foreign to him. Absurd even. But he just couldn’t help it…nor did he seem to care. From high up on their elevated mushroom platform, Branch now gripped his sides as the laughter overtook him, transferring a giddy energy to his rhythmic feet as they watched their weird new moment-ruining cloud friend plummet to a fate unknown, the product of being tandem high fived out of the sky by the two trolls.

He’ll be fine. He’s a cloud after all.

“I still don’t get the whole socks with no shoes thing.” He smirked. Poppy looked at him quizzically, and then down in the direction the cloud guy fell, genuinely pondering the statement for a moment. “Well, if you’re up in the sky most of the time… Why would you need shoes?“ she quipped with a smirk. A quiet “Huh.” was all he could muster, a tad baffled by the unexpected logic in the joke, to which he really had no argument for. “I guess when you put it like that…” he mused, cracking a half smile. With a comforting new sense of relief and contentment, he allowed a few more precious chuckles with the newly crowned queen. What was the harm anyway? Unless Smidge dropped them of course… Naw, this is probably just another day at the gym for her. He could let his guard down, for once. They were safe from the Bergens.

… For now. he allowed the troubled thought, but only for a moment, he was too preoccupied by his current reality to let his old survivalist paranoia fully take hold, all while blissfully unaware that their laughter was shifting dangerously close to silence. Too close. Too late.

They were alone again.

Holy hair, how long can Smidge keep this up? This is craz… wait. Why is it so quiet…? Uh oh… Oh no-oh no-oh-oh no!! Uh-uh-uh.. C’mon Say something to her, sticks for brains! Ugh! You’ve only spent THE LAST FEW DAYS ALONE WITH HER and had no problem talking to her then. Aaaaahhhh…

While Branch’s mind was about to spontaneously combust, it was Poppy who finally broke the prolonged silence. “I can’t believe I finally got to hear your laugh.” she paused, smiling off in the distance before turning to meet his gaze. “You have a nice one.” She concluded. Letting those electric candy eyes linger on serene sky ones for a moment.

I do?… She thinks- His eyes widened in shock, his mouth tightened. Heat engulfed him as the dark violet blush that flooded his face suddenly, seemed to set off the few glittering freckles he had, like a chain reaction of tiny firecrackers across his cheeks.

Well now you have to say something.

Tourmaline eyes came back for another visit, paralyzing his in the process.


This is weird. I don’t like this. UGH… Just say it. He took a moment and swallowed. “I can’t take all the credit, I learned from the best.” He said, holding her gaze. Then, immediately elbowing her to drive his point home, followed by that sarcastic smirk, that could only belong to Branch.

“Awwww! That’s so sweet.” she exclaimed briefly, before regaining her composure. “but nice try!” She shot up an eyebrow. “You can’t just teach someone how to laugh… It’s just something that’s already inside them.” she said, reaching up to ruffle the front part of his recently taller, not to mention more colorful, hair.

The sudden sensation of fingers through his locks, and momentarily touching his scalp, caused Branch to freeze.

Does she like my hair? He beamed, cheeks darkening a bit more at the thought. Nah, she’s probably just as weirded out by it as I am. He scoffed. Maybe she’s checking to see if it’s real.

He got his bearings again. “Well, either way, it wouldn’t be possible… w-without you.” He managed, eyes darting away from her, sheepishly looking off in the distance, before eventually finding the courage to turn back to her again. The pink fire in her eyes still blazing.

I wonder if I should… Does she want me to…

“Wow.” she said, sounding truly in awe.

“Hmm?” he put his previous thought away, wondering and fearing how this moment could get any more perfect.

“I just can’t wrap my hair around it,” she started, eyes on his, and yet somewhere off in ‘cupcakes and rainbows’ land as well. “It’s all just so… surreal I guess.” He listened intently, a patient, albeit perplexed look on his face as she continued. “Like wow!… You’re just soooo genuinely nice, and I just… I just can’t believe, I-I mean… after all this time…”
She leaned a bit into his space, causing him to flinch slightly.

What’s.. happening?! Is she-

“that you’d end up being…” her cheeks flushed, and she gently took his hand, pulling him even closer. Branch’s eyes widened.


Poppy’s smile grew wider “… like the greatest friend I could ever have!!” she all but yelled before pulling him into a bone crushing, and almost as equally, soul crushing bear hug.

His breath was lost… for more reasons than one, maybe forever for all he knew.


The moment it took for Branch to pick up the pieces of his heart, felt like an eternity, but eventually, he slowly brought his arms up returning the hug, with understandably less enthusiasm and strength than his captor.

A single word relentlessly looping in his head.

“I… uh.. I.. yeah.” he cleared his throat, brushing it off as best he could. “W-who’d have thought?” he let out a small, strained laugh, doing his best to hide the fact that it was completely forced.

…Too good to be true… friend… of course just friends. … Stupid. How could you be so STUPID? Why in the world would you think you’d be something more? No! You don’t deserve that… her.. not after how you’ve treated her, what you’ve done. Hugs and pretty new colors don’t right all those wrongs.

This… this is for the best. You’d probably end up hurting her somehow. You’re cursed.

He steeled, bracing himself for whatever this new hell had to offer. Wanting desperately to just get as far away as possible, but… she was so close to him now, and he found it impossible to pull away.

Not just yet.

Hell can wait.

For the moment, he brought his queen closer, hugged a little tighter, savoring paradise for as long as he could. Defying inevitability, if only for now. Being so close allowed Branch an opportunity he did not pass up. With great stealth, he turned his head toward hers, his nose nestling in magenta hair before greedily inhaling her scent. Whether or not she noticed this, she made no mention.

Why does she have to smell so good? Like, if roses were candy…

“This is nice.” Poppy hummed and squeezed tighter.

You have no idea.

“Seeeee, Hugs aren’t so bad.” she teased, eventually breaking the hug, much to his dismay. “Heh, I never said they were.” he said flatly. She deadpanned. Well, as best she could anyway, that smile always betrayed her. “Well you suuure fooled me.” She sassed, unconvinced. His ears started to droop a bit with guilt.

She has a point.

“It’s uh.. it’s just hard to explain.” He sighed, unable to come up with any other words to help him out. Her expression softened. “Weeell.. maybe you can try explaining it me sometime.” She offered, earning a smile from him. “Besides, it’s not like you can go running off to your bunker like always, not at the moment anyway.” She pointed out. Realization widened Branch’s eyes.

Oh. Yeah.

He paled, fear, panic and anxiety threatening to rear their ugly heads. His old friends. Always interrupting his life like uninvited guests. He wondered if he’d ever be rid of them. Probably not. One thing was certain though: He had to get outta here!!

His gaze traveled downward and landed on the giant mushroom on which they stood, absentmindedly tracing it’s colorful designs with his eyes. A troll, momentarily forgotten, now resurfacing in his thoughts.


“Y-yeah.” He fretted, scratching the back of his head. “You know, Smidge is probably starting to get tired.” He deflected “Plus I’m getting kinda dizzy, I think it’s time to head down.. bud.”

Did I just call her bud?

“Y-uh.. Yeah! I mean this is Smidge we’re talkin’ about here.. but yeah, we should probably go back.” She agreed, the slightest hint of reluctance in her voice. She stared at him for a moment, a playful smirk stretching across her face.

“What?” he questioned, confused.

“Are you suuure you didn’t think hugs were bad? Cuz you use to duck ‘em like they were poisonous snakes.” she smirked. “Like, there were times when we’d pretend to be like.. a Frankenstein version of you, runnin’ around shouting ‘HUGS BAD!’ grrrr ‘SINGING, DANCING BAD!’ grrr.” She finished in her best monster voice to emphasize the joke.

“Geeee… good to know.” he huffed, rolling his eyes, that familiar sarcastic edge to his words. Poppy’s smile faltered, filling Branch with instant regret.

“Branch, I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean-“

“No.. I get it.” he interrupted. “I know what I am… Was… Whatever.” he sighed. “Alright, brace yourself.” he advised suddenly before loudly stomping down on the mushroom platform three times, figuring that was the best to alert Smidge to start lowering them. He wondered why she even bothered with the gesture in the first place, it’s not like they needed alone time. Why did she do it? She couldn’t be as blind as him.. right?

Poppy just stood there, seemingly ignoring his instructions. A sympathetic look on her face. “Branch, don’t be so hard on yourself.” she comforted, lightly placing her hand on his arm. He pulled up a confident smile for her sake. “It’s cool, I’m fine.” He lied.

“WOA- AHH!” he yelped as the platform jerked abruptly, unsteadying them. Instinctively, he grabbed her hand. “Poppy, you okay?” he asked, crouching a bit as the platform started lowering slowly. “All good here! Smidge does this sort of thing a lot.” she laughed.

He chuckled in agreement, postponing the arduous task of trying to piece his life back together after losing everything.




He winced as voices from his past taunted him. Ghosts haunting his mind. Luckily her sugared voice snapped him out of it. “Hey, so.. uh, being that we’re trolls and all… there’s probably gonna be a party tonight, or some form of celebration…” she hinted.

“Riiight…” he drawled out, confused. “Weeell.. are you gonna come to this one?” she pleaded. He arched an eyebrow, “I suppooose… if it would please ‘Her Majesty’.” he smirked. Poppy grimaced, her adorable features scrunching up in disgust. “OOOH NO! NOPE-NOPE-NOPE! I am puttin’ a stop to that RIGHT NOW!” she threatened as Branch snorted at her lack of an assertive tone. “And yes,” she composed herself. “yes it would please me.” she admitted. “Then I’ll be there.” he returned, with a wink.

She stared dumbfounded for a second before shrieking with joy, causing him to cup his sensitive ears.

Ugh. This was going to be a looong night.

The platform jerked again suddenly as the speed increased, causing Poppy to stumble completely… only to land in Branch’s already prepared arms. She looked up, surprised eyes meeting each other.

Or was it?

Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t sooo bad, he considered as his arms were suddenly cradling the pink queen. It was a nice feeling. That is until that stupid platform jerked once more.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” he screamed as they plummeted due to the downward speed rapidly picking up in pace. Poppy seemed to be taking it with a little more grace than him as they held on to the edges… and each other, trying to endure the rest of their.. now very direct route back to the ground.

“DAAAAAMMIIIT SMIIIIIIIIIDGE!!” he yelled, he was gonna be sick.

Please don’t throw up on Poppy. Please don’t throw up on Poppy. Please don’t throw up on Poppy.

Another AU inspired by spoilers for next week, in which Regina finds herself on the last mission she ever expected: trying to engineer a meeting between a princess and a pirate.

For @galadriel26​ - happy birthday!

Regina Mills is still silently fuming about her own plan. It’s a good plan. It will work.

But on a purely personal level it’s infuriating to find herself in the position of matchmaker for Captain Guyliner and Little Miss Perfect. It will work, and they’ll all remember—and she will never, ever, live it down.

Emma, to her complete lack of surprise, is not helping. “You know this won’t work,” she says haughtily as she looks out of the small window of the carriage that Regina had commandeered. Outside, the forest is sunlit and bright, and Regina feels a strange pang at the sight of it. She never appreciated it, before. For so long, she only hated it for hiding Snow White from her. Now, the sight and scent of it seems to tug at her heart, whispering of home.

“If my parents really are in danger, I don’t see how a pirate is going to help,” Emma goes on, and Regina almost, almost, laughs at the note of scorn in her voice. She recognises it. It’s a natural by-product of being raised a princess. Emma Swan, the princess, is far from a spoiled brat, but she’s also a far cry from Emma Swan, the woman who drove into Storybrooke one night and turned Regina’s life upside down.

This woman has never broken the law or dallied with criminals. This woman has grown up loved and wanted and utterly sure of who she is.

It makes her even more inconveniently confident than she was in Storybrooke. It also makes it hard to lie to her, which is why Regina has been purposely vague about this plan of hers, the fake one she told Emma in order to get her into this carriage and onto this road.

“Trust me,” she says as carelessly as she can manage. “He’ll help. If he knows what’s good for him.”

“You keep saying that, but — “

There’s a shout outside. The carriage rumbles to a stop. There’s more shouting, the ring of steel, and Emma frowns and sits up straighter. Regina smiles.

Show time.

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Azriel Series Chapter 5:

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

It has been a few years since the war with Hybern and the Inner Circle is not the same as they had once been. Elain has accepted her mating bond and Lucien is treating her well. When Azriel first met Elain, he knew that his heart would turn to her, mating bond or no but with Lucien courting her Azriel will never be able to be with her. Mor has finally confronted him and tells him that they could never be together because she is attracted to women, not men.

Understandably, Azriel has a tough time coping with the new dynamic. However, he has just found a bastard born, half Illyrian child who shares a similar past to the one he has had. And after spending time with Evelina, Azriel discovers that he doesn’t need to be in a romantic relationship to be truly happy and feel accepted.

Chapter 5:

Azriel woke up to a squirming Evelina. She was trying to wake him up.

“Come on! Wake up Dadda!!” She smiled.

“I’m up Evelina.” He groaned, still half asleep.

“I’m hungry. I want breakfast.” She pouted.

“I need to get a shirt on first,” Az whispered and pulled Evelina out of his lap and settled her on the floor. “Just wait a minute.”

She ended up waddling after him and waited outside his room telling him to hurry up. God, she already seemed like a mini Mor!

After a few minutes, he came out with slightly less messy hair and a shirt and went down with her to have breakfast.

Cassian was already eating breakfast and smirked at him while saying around a mouthful of food, “Did Evelina have to pull you out of bed? Tsk tsk brother.”

“I bet Nesta had to drag you out of bed too you buffoon,” Az said while looking at Cassian’s equally messy hair and pyjamas. Nesta started giggling hysterically and Cassian glared at her.

In the end, Cassian grumbled, “Maybe…” And that was all that Azriel and Evelina needed to start cracking up. Cassian started laughing too and ended up spitting half-chewed bread across to the other side of the table straight onto Nesta.

“You stupid overgrown bat!” Nesta shrieked. Evelina and Azriel were laughing so hard that tears started welling up in their eyes.

“Oops…” Cassian sighed.

Cass got out of his chair and walked over to Nesta gracefully before planting a great big kiss on her forehead. He ended up wiping the bread off her shirt with a napkin, said “There you go darling,” and gave her a cheeky smile before going back to his seat.

Nesta groaned but ended up laughing again.

When Cassian wasn’t paying attention Nesta pegged a piece of toast at him. Cassian was so shocked he started choking on his food and had to gulp down a few glasses of water to wash it down. Evelina decided that she wanted to join in too and threw a few grapes at Azriel.

It didn’t hurt but Az pretended to cough really hard to seem like he was choking. This made Evelina giggle even more and soon there was a proper food fight between Az,  Cassian, and Nesta.

That had been one of the most entertaining breakfasts Azriel had been a part of for a long time but he felt a little bad for the cleaner…

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anonymous asked:

So I saw a post saying that both dex's parents have been to Hell, will Dex ever go will nursey be so sad and dex comes back like "I'm a demon it's kinda hard for me to actually die"

THIS IS MY FAVORITE IM SO HYPE. ANGST/STUPID. MY FAVORITE GENRE. This got very long. I will eventually put it up on AO3, stay tuned. 

Part of the Monster Haus AU. Featuring Dullahan Dex and Vampire Nursey and a whole bunch of other monsters.

Edit: Now on AO3!!!

Six weeks and four days.

It had been six weeks and four days since everything had come crashing down.

Dex had stopped texting towards the end of winter break. He had just seemed to drop off the face of the earth as he stopped responding to Nursey’s texts and the group chat. It hadn’t felt all that odd at the time, just Dex being his usual reclusive self.

Then he hadn’t shown on on his move in day and everyone started to question. When he missed the first team meeting, a sick feeling had begun to creep up Nursey’s spine, though he told Chowder was he sure it was fine. When he missed their first practice of the semester, no one had any comforting words to offer.

It was that night that Hall and Murray called the team in, and delivered the news with lowered eyes and tense shoulders.

None of it still felt real to Nursey. Not the cold shock that had raced through his veins, not Lardo’s pearly tears striking the floor or the thunderstorm Chowder had caused that had ripped the gutters off the Haus.

Dex had always seemed so indestructible. His head could come off. With that sort of physical leeway Nursey would have never thought him even capable of injury let alone death.

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