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Okay, so also, one of the things that truly got me into AU crafting and Warhammer40k in general is my own wild head cannon. U wanna hear it? Of course you do. Okay, here is something I totally believe is cannon and u can prove to me otherwise.

She-ra and the Princesses of Power takes place in the WH40k Universe!!!!!

Okay, so allow me to elaborate.

So first off, I was a Shera fan BEFORE I was a warhammer fan, but after I really started to get into warhammer, something clicked.

I was painting some of my first minis when, for background noise, I decided to throw Shera on for the umpteenth time. Then I started to notice it.

Shera is a Scifi x Fantasy series, so there is already a precedent for the two to flow well together. But then u start getting into the workings of Etheria's Archeo-tech.

So let's start with who settled Etheria. We see through holographic projections/recordings along with our two confirmed First Ones in the series (Adora and Mara) that First ones were clearly human or close to humans.

Suspending a little disbelief, and it's not too far a jump to claim that the First Ones were humans from the dark age of technology. Further proof is in the show how powerful and advanced First Ones' tec is! Also, it is extremely valuable as only two to three people can work/manipulate it properly. (Two of those three are hyper intelligent geniuses)

Let's move on to one of my bigger points, the portals.

During season three, Entrapta and Hordac work to get her to retrofit Hordac's tech with First One's tech. This taps into the planetary magic and the integrated (for lack of an in universe term) warp engine. Unfortunately the portal becomes unstable and fucks with time and reality.

Eventually, after removing the "key" from the portal, the planet returns to realspace.

Oh did I forget to mention that up until that point the entire planet and it's moons we're in a nebulous in-between dimension that could only be accessed by a cataclysmic event on the inside or a freak anomaly from the outside.

This then lends credence to my main argument/ claim Adora, She-ra, Princess of Power and guardian of Etheria is a primarch!

Part 1 of ?

Last batch for now, I swear

Okay I don't have the story ready but here's what I've finished so far!!! I did the security breach ones before the Foxy marine at the bottom, there not my best work, but gods were they so fun to make/paint!!!

This all came from me watching Heresy for Hertics on YouTube. He's been taking colour schemes from his childhood (TV characters and such) and painting marines with them.

If u love out of the box colour schemes and fantastic tutorials definitely a must watch/subscribe

Pt 1/2(or three)

Okay I don't have the story ready but here's what I've finished so far!!! I did the security breach ones before the Foxy marine at the bottom, there not my best work, but gods were they so fun to make/paint!!!

This all came from me watching Heresy for Hertics on YouTube. He's been taking colour schemes from his childhood (TV characters and such) and painting marines with them.

If u love out of the box colour schemes and fantastic tutorials definitely a must watch/subscribe

Pt 1/2(or three)

Okay I don't have the story ready but here's what I've finished so far!!! I did the security breach ones before the Foxy marine at the bottom, there not my best work, but gods were they so fun to make/paint!!!

This all came from me watching Heresy for Hertics on YouTube. He's been taking colour schemes from his childhood (TV characters and such) and painting marines with them.

If u love out of the box colour schemes and fantastic tutorials definitely a must watch/subscribe

Pt 1/2(or three)

“I was never really welcome here, was I?”

The darkened study was lined with bookshelves against three of the walls, with a stained-glass window on the far wall from the door providing red, green and blue light across the room in an image of the virgin mother. In front of the window was a desk of polished ebony. The atmosphere in the room was tense enough to cut air, and the man leaning over the desk, short and squat, with white hair and a priest’s frock, laughed bitterly.

“Of course not, you stupid boy. You may have your father’s power, but you have your mother’s naivete.”

The boy, dressed in a white shirt, a leather jacket and blue jeans, looked normal enough, but he was positioning himself to flee if he had to. In his hand he clutched the locket containing the greatest secret his mother had ever kept – one known only to a few. The priest before him was one of them.

“Why? If all this time you meant to kill me then why haven’t you done it?”

The priest drew a cross from his belt and said solemnly, “We weren’t allowed to kill you in the womb. Papal sanction. We weren’t allowed to kill you as an infant – for you seemed normal enough. But as time wore on, I knew your father’s influence would get to you – and that would be our demise. But it seems there is still time to slay you before you betray us. Still time to do the right thing.”

From the door sprinted two younger priests, each gripping one of the boy’s arms. The priest approached, holding the cross at arms-length towards the boy, and drawing from the desk’s top drawer a pistol. He got to within an arm’s length of the boy, and held the gun to the boy’s forehead. “God forgive me for what I’m about to do.” He said coldly, pulling back the hammer of the pistol with his thumb.

It was then, for the first time, in a moment of rage and panic, the boy felt his father’s presence in his soul, and the power within his body. With a shout somewhere between a scream of anger and a growl, the gun was thrown backwards from the priest’s hand, through the stained-glass window that was the only source of light for the room. Clear light poured in through the hole.

Like a surge of adrenaline, great strength and powerful instinct over took the boy, as he threw the two grown men pinning him bodily against the bookshelves on either side of the room, knocking them apart. Books fell on the ground, scattering the floor with ritual literature and apocrypha. The priest backed away, knocking into the front of the desk and holding the cross at arm’s length still, beginning the Litany of the Saints.

At this the boy laughed, a harsh bark that sounded only vaguely human. “Old man,” he said in a guttural tone, different from the voice of the boy who had spoken moments ago. He waved his hand, and the cross flew out of the priest’s hand, into a pile of broken and splintered bookshelves.

He raised his hand, and the priest’s did likewise, gripping himself by the throat. As the boy clenched his fist, the priest gagged and choked as he strangled himself. The priest’s last moments were as pathetic as a dying fish’s, kicking and squirming on the floor as he fought for air. Once the priest had ceased moving, the boy relented, and the strange power faded from him.

The boy looked at what he had done. The dead priest, laying against his own desk, his aged hand still gripping his own throat. Against each wall were another priest, either unconscious or dead, he could not tell.

He went behind the desk and searched through the drawers, finding the things he was looking for. Another pistol, this one set in silver, and a pile of cash. He ran back, out of the room, and into his room in the orphanage. Gathering a bag of clothes, he sighed, and let reality sink in. It really was true. He was… he was…

He looked at the amulet again. Gripping it tight, he slipped it into his pocket. He’d think on that another time. For now, he needed to get far away from here. Once he had as many of his things as he could carry – it wasn’t much, nor, he figured, would much be needed – he ran for the door, and out of the orphanage.

He ran down the street, and didn’t stop running until he had made it across town, to his ‘friend’s’ home. A well-built two-story on the more affluent side of town, he knew his friend could help. He knocked on the door, a steady banging until the person he was looking for answered. “What’s up, Daelyn? You look like you’re… wait, is that… blood?”

Looking down and silently cursing himself, he saw that he did indeed have some small portion of blood on his shirt, from either the priests he sent flying across from the room or somehow from the man he had choke himself to death he did not know. “Zeke, I don’t have time to explain. I need a shirt, and I need to get a fake ID or two. Out of state ones, too.”

Zeke looked scared. As well he should, Daelyn supposed. How would he respond if one of his friends showed up on his doorstep, drenched in sweat and bloodstained.

Zeke looked around the neighborhood, the empty street, and then sighed. “Get in the house, dumbass.”

“I never really was welcome here… was I?”

Captain Rex x GN!Reader {part one}

AN!: Reader is a medic for the 501st and has a fat ass crush on Rex, but of course nobody knows. [at least not yet! ;)] Also, this is my first fic! I'm open to constructive criticism so feel free to lmk if there's more I can improve on! Summary: As transmissions are received, a dire mission is begun to protect the Republic and quite possibly end the war. As assignments are given out your hope sparks up at the chance of a night out with your favorite captain, even if it's just for a mission, you'd be able to be closer than ever with him. word count: 433

Although it was a relatively easy mission, it was dangerous, and you really couldn’t get past the task of it. As the end of the year creeps up on Coruscant, so does the ball. Every year’s end, Coruscant would host a galaxy wide ball, celebrating the victories and positive happenings of the year. But this year would have a change, a masquerade ball with guests, guests who could be anyone.

After a recent mission to Felucia, General Skywalker and Echo had found a way to track Separatist transmissions and somehow the system still goes un-noticed. After monitoring transmissions for what seemed like months, Ahsoka and Barriss had managed to find a transmission between Count Dooku and Asajj Ventress about word of a masquerade ball happening on Coruscant, which would let relatively anyone in. Ahsoka and Barriss immediately caught onto the plan and told the rest of the Jedi Council. Asajj Ventress would be infiltrating the ball, along with another partner, and sabotaging the systems and sending out a full-on attack on Coruscant while the infamous General Grievous would kidnap the chancellor. Due to the severity of the situation the council collectively made the decision to have a few jedi and clones go undercover to stop the ambush. Jedi Quinlan Voss, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Ahsoka Tano would go undercover as attendees to the ball.

General Skywalker and General Kenobi decided to take their best men to go with them, due to their excellent blaster and battle skills, which would come in handy when, if the fight broke out.

As the word of the mission reached the Barracks your body flooded with excitement, then you reminded yourself: you’re just a medic they wouldn’t pick you out of anyone. As General Skywalker Addressed the men you got lost in your thoughts, He was sure to be paired with Ahsoka. After all, they had fought together for ages, so why would you be chosen? General Skywalker and General Kenobi called you over to the war room, where you would be given an assignment. “Wait-‘ you thought. ‘Why am I getting assigned a job? Your heart skipped a beat as you dreamed of the opportunity of going on an undercover mission, let alone with him.

 You entered the war room and saw General Skywalker, General Kenobi, Rex, Fives, Echo, Cody, Waxer, and boil staring at you. You hadn’t realized it, but they sure did. Unknowingly, your cheeks were a perfect lookalike shade of Meiloorun juice, and your face adorned with a bright smile. “Looks like someone ready for the mission. Let’s get started.” Began General Skywalker.

Getting Them Pets! (Part One!)

Kylo Ren: Long ago, you decided to aim for getting something special for him. You had no idea what, so you did some searching and studying, going to different systems and stars to determine what pet would make the best for Kylo. Going out in the middle of the morning to search the planets certainly alarmed Kylo, but upon telling him you were 'gathering researching' on something that heavily interested you, he relaxed.

After an infuriating amount of research, studying and writing, you managed to find something perfect: A dog, a Basenji. Curious, affectionate, intelligent, quiet, alert and low maintenance. Perfect for Kylo. Once you got a male, red in color and small in size, Kylo looked at you. "This is yours?" He asked, his voice perplexed. "Ours." You corrected, a smile on your face as you handed the puppy to your boyfriend. Kylo inspected the dog for a bit, before softening and cradling the dog, his face compassionate and kind. Teary-eyed, he thanked you.

Armitage Hux: How on Earth you managed to convince him of getting a pet? No idea. How did you even get the pet in? A mystery. But you did. A ginger cat, matching his Armitage's ginger hair. Seeing the cat, Armitage looked at you, as if disgusted by the gesture, but you know he would crack. "It's for you, and me." You hand him the kitten and his facade is immediately cracked.

He leans into give you a kiss while holding the precious kitty, the kiss a bit aggressive as he practically mashes your lips together but then it softens and deepens. "I love you." He whispers softly, cherishing you and the cat.

.

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A\N: Part two out Monday! Love you guys <3

So I have a funny au idea… In which Stan may or may not have been temporarily bought by the AXOLOTL (Under the guise of Mx. Lottie) in order to run some entirely ordinary errands… Ford is very confused as to why nobody is totally concerned about his brother’s whereabouts and intends to figure out what happened… Which may or may not involve making a deal with a weird triangle thing. There’s more to it, but that’s basically the gist of it. I think it’s pretty silly. Might make more stuff about this lol. It came to me in a dream lol-

NEXT

ADVENTURE FALLS! Part 1 of chapter 1 done- IN COMIC FORM! Boy, wonder were this goes! (I have it written out I just need to draw it hope you like it- It’s pretty silly. Bit of mystery there… Wonder what could be in the chest… Will post the next part very soon- Hope you enjoyed! Nobody asked but I will provide lol

Hello? Must share, this masterpiece-

Ric(hard) Fenton; Part 1

(Once again slightly inspired by @saltymarshmall0w 's prompt.)

Read on ao3.

Masterpost. Next.

“B, didn’t you promise us as you’d tell if there was a possibility of another secret child?” Tim asks as he stares at the black haired boy, who looks like he had been to hell and back to get here, with blue eyes — because of course, they are blue —  in front of the Manor’s door. 

He can’t help but feel unnerved by the way the boy evaded their security measures and how he hasn’t said a single word since Tim opened the door even when he can see the boy’s hands tremble.

“Yes?” Bruce's voice floats from further in the Manor, his barely audible gaunt drawing near.

“Then who the hell is this?” he asks just as the man turns the corner. He freezes at the sight of the kid, literally blue screening as he takes him in. 

“Actually he’s mine,” a too chipper voice announces and Tim nearly jumps out of skin as he turns to Dick.

The young man must see both Tim and Bruce doing the mental calculations in their heads because he interrupts before they can draw the wrong conclusions.

“If Bruce can go around adopting children, I can do the same.” Then he turns to the boy. “You can come in, Danny.” 

Tim is eerily reminded of a wary, frightened cat as the boy — Danny moves inside. His steps are too silent for a mere civilian. 

Bruce and Tim share a look and Tim knows that they are both asking themselves when Dick met the boy and why he never mentioned him with how familiar he acts around him as he easily tucks him into his side. 

Although neither of them wants to accept it, Dick has changed since the one year where he disappeared without a trace. He’d told them that he was shot leading to him to lose his memories and that he only retained his memories a few days before he came back, but Tim always had a feeling the older man was not telling the whole truth, hiding it behind an easy-going smile. He didn’t speak a single word about what happened during that year, claiming he didn’t remember much of it ever since his memories returned.

Not only that, but it had become even rarer than before that any of them would meet Dick at the manor (even Jason was at the Manor more often) — and when he was present he was always studying them with an intense stare as if he was searching for something in their expressions.

“Dick,” Bruce starts but the man waves him off.

“Later,” he says. “I need to see if I have any fresh clothes for Danny.”

Dick pulls the boy away and they head up the stairs. Tim gives it a minute before he follows, nodding at Bruce, who does the same. He hears them stop in the hallway and he pauses in his steps.

“What’s going on?” Tim hears the man's question and he sneaks closer when he can’t hear the boy’s response. He subtly uses his phone’s camera to peek around the corner. 

“What about Mom and Dad?” Dick asks in a hushed whisper and Tim knits his eyebrows together — confused about who his brother is talking about.

Danny winces with a pained expression.

“The GIW got them in custody for affiliating with and aiding an ectoplasmic entity,” he explains. “You are my only chance.”

“Jazz, Sam, Tucker?” Dick almost seems desperate and when the boy just shakes his head after each name, he runs a hand through his hair and curses. 

“And you are sure we can’t go to them?”

Tim can’t help but ask himself who they are talking about that Dick’s voice is so full of disdain. Danny vehemently shakes his head, eyes squeezed together like he is remembering something painful and when he speaks his voice is shaky.

“I don’t know what to do, Ric,” he says, clutching the top of his shirt like his heart is hurting and Tim’s eyebrows climb to the top of his hairline at the unusual nickname. “I can’t- I can’t do this alone…” 

“Fuck.” Dick takes a deep breath as he hugs Danny. “Okay. Yes, of course I’m coming with you, baby ghost. Just let me grab my things and then we’ll go on our way.” 

“You will not go anywhere.” 

Bruce steps in Dick’s path before Tim can stop him and he narrows his eyes at the pair. Danny flinches away from the man and Dick steps protectively in front of the boy.

Tim knows Bruce and Dick had their rough patches in the past but never like this. Never had Dick looked at Bruce like he was a threat. 

“I’m not in the mood, B,” Dick warns sharply. 

“And I’m not about to let you go off with someone that I haven’t vetted.”

Dick lets out a bitter huff of a laugh.

“Of course that’s the only thing you would focus on.” His voice is cold. “You’ll bulldoze your way through, and prod and condemn, not caring if you hurt someone innocent in the process as long as you can justify your actions. I don’t even know why I’m surprised at this point. It’s what happened to Jason after all.”

Bruce reels back like he’s been punched. 

“Now if that is all, I have to go save the people who actually treat me like family.”

This time nobody stops Dick as he leaves the house, Danny in tow. 

“Master Bruce, Master Tim,” Alfred’s voice tears Tim out of his trance and startles Bruce who froze in his spot. “Where is Master Dick?”

Dick trembles with barely suppressed fury as he leads Danny to his car.

He wanted to believe that Bruce was better — that he wouldn’t have led the Justice League on a hunt after a child, but the longer he is back in Gotham as Richard Grayson — the longer he is around who were supposed to be his “actual” family, the more he grows unsure about that fact. There is no easy trust between them — not the steadfast determination that no matter what happens, they’ll take his side. Not like the Fentons have. (It’s been barely 2 months and he misses being Ric Fenton — misses being Jack and Maddie’s son and Jazz and Danny’s older brother.)

Bruce has contingency plans about them for fuck’s sake. And while he understands that there might be situations where they would be on other sides — the time where he and the Teen Titans had to fight their mind controlled mentors comes to mind — it’s a scary thought. For the first time since ages — since Bruce had taken Robin away from him — he feels like he is on his own. 

Back then he had turned to Clark — to Superman. He was the one who gave him the name Nightwing but Dick is plagued by the nightmares he witnessed Danny having. He doesn’t think he can look at his uncle ever the same again. 

At the same time, he doesn’t know if Danny and him can do this alone. He glances at the boy as he drives out the gates to the manor — he looks incredibly drained. He’s even paler than usual and there’s a sheen of sweat over his whole body as he leans back in his seat, breaths shallow. 

As he drives through the streets of the Bowery a sudden thought comes to his mind. He tears the steering wheel around, tearing Danny out of his doze. He blinks at Dick, eyebrows knitted together when he sees that they are still in Gotham.

“Where are we going?” he asks and Dick gives him a smile that is all teeth.

“Just a little pit stop.”

Jason and Dick don’t talk much — or to be more precise they don’t talk about the important stuff. Not about the — ‘I broke down when I heard about your death and I blame myself for not being there’ or ‘I was sure you hated me and you were glad I was gone’. They barge into each other's apartments, spar or get drunk together and cling to each other when they are sure the other isn’t awake to witness it. It’s not quite healthy — but it’s something better than when Jason was still Robin.

So when the door to one of his safe houses gets slammed open, Jason isn’t concerned. He knows Dick had been off the past few weeks and had been expecting his visit for quite a while now. 

The look in Dick’s eyes is different this time around though. It’s not quite the mix of depression coupled with anger he normally expects — it’s something stronger — righteous fury.

“I need your help,” Dick demands before Jason can question what’s going on.

Jason knits his eyebrows together. 

“What about Bruce?”

There’s a dark look in the man’s eyes for a moment before it passes and that’s the moment Jason realizes that this something more serious than the usual spats he normally has with B. 

“You are the only one I can trust with this.”

He spins around on his heels and is out of the safe house before Jason can blink. Getting a bit impatient and angry about Dick not getting straight to the point and still expecting him to follow — Jason storms out. What he doesn’t expect is the passed out half-dead kid in the passenger seat. A tinge of green enters his vision as he glares at Dick.

“What the hell is going on?”

The story Dick tells as they speed on the highway leaves Jason reeling. If the man’s tone wasn’t carefully monotone as he spoke about Ghosts and an entire town being shifted to a different dimension, Jason would have already declared that Dick finally snapped. He wants to question why he lied to the rest about losing his memories about the year he went missing, but the desperate look he sends him and the way his hands shake on the steering wheel hold him back. It’s only the boy’s quiet snores that have Jason’s volume not climbing above a hiss.

“Are you sure this all happened? That this is real?”

“I was there, Jay,” Dick’s tone leaves no arguments. “I almost watched Danny die, again — fighting Pariah Dark. I would have never forgiven myself if another of my brothers…” He gulps and shakes his head. “I was there this time. I should have made a difference and once again I was helpless”. He slams a fist against the radio, cursing when it turns on, blaring loud music. 

He quickly turns the volume down and both of them wait with bated breath as Danny stirs in his seat, before he goes limp again. Dick lets out a deep sigh.

“How do you think I felt once I realized the situation?” Dick questions. “I was in the middle of nowhere with no recollection of who I was. If the Fentons hadn’t found me-” He shakes his head. “Next I know I’m watching a kid fight fucking Ghosts twice his side and getting thrown around like a ragdoll like it’s a normal Tuesday. That shouldn’t happen Jay, it just shouldn’t.”

Jason stays silent.

“And worst of all, I still knew how to fight,” Dick barrels on. “But no matter how much I tried to help Danny and teach him, it was useless because it wasn’t humans or even metas he was up against. How could my moves counter beings that can fly and go intangible and invisible at will?”

Jason still can’t fathom why Dick hid this from them all — but he knows enough to understand why he needs his help. 

“So what’s the plan?”

Dick shoots him a relieved smile.

“We still have 12 hours of driving ahead of us,” Dick glances at Danny. “I’m reckoning he’s gonna be out cold for at least half of it if not more. I need you to switch with me after half of the drive so I can get a power nap in, then I’ll take over again.”

“Not trusting me with the car?” Jason teases.

“Show me your drivers license and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

They start bickering, and for a moment Jason can convince himself that this is a normal road trip.

Jason’s at the wheel when the boy wakes up. Dick is out cold and despite the man’s protests Jason can drive normally if he wants to. There’s no reason the man has to over exhaust himself.

They had tossed their phones once they crossed the border to Illinois and Dick had withdrawn a couple of thousand bucks. Jason had questioned why they hadn’t done sooner if they wanted to keep Bruce off their trail, but the man told him he’s not the one he is worried about. Considering what Dick told him about the elusive GIW, Jason can harbor a guess on who he is talking about. It’s after that, that Jason wrangled him into another nap — Dick was in no condition to drive any further. 

“Ric?” Danny questions sleepily as he sits up and Jason keeps an eye on him out of the corner of his eyes.

“He’s asleep,” Jason answers and it’s only because he’s used to Damian that he blocks the instinctual kick as the boy realizes he’s not alone. 

“I can see that Dick kept you sharp” Jason huffs out a laugh. “I’m Jason, in case he didn’t mention me.”

Danny blinks at him and shifts so he is sitting cross legged. He knits his eyebrows together, clearly thinking.

“You were the pit stop?” he questions.

“Apparently.” Jason shrugs. “Great work, by the way. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Dick this pissed.”

The boy frowns, gnawing at his lips as he stares out the window.

“You’ve died too, haven't you?”

Jason suppresses his initial reaction to snap at the boy. Instead he grits his teeth as he stares straight ahead, the road blurring together. 

“And?”

“Ric shouldn’t have let you come.”

He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles are deadly white, green hazing his vision. 

“They’ll cut you open too.”

It takes the wind out of his anger and he lets out a curse. The brakes screech as he stops at the side of the road, nearly catapulting them forward with the force of it. Jason finally turns to look at Danny properly. The boy peels down his t-shirt to reveal a gnarly, ugly red Y-shaped scar as he gulps.

“Ric doesn’t know,” he says as he releases the hem of his shirt, covering the scar once more. “I haven’t told him.”

“Then why me?” Jason’s voice rises without his consent.

“Because you’ll get it,” the boy murmurs. “How it feels to die.”

The boy leans back, turning away from Jason to look at the corn field.

“How it haunts you.”

Jason wants to puke and he lets his forehead fall onto the steering wheel.

“Fuck,” he says emotionally and the boy laughs — broken and hysterical. Jason doesn’t comment on the tears streaming down Danny’s face.

Jason starts up the car again, leading the car back on the road.

“Next time Dick asks for my help, I’ll send him to hell.”

Jason hides a smile when the boy snorts at that. 

Dick comes to himself as they are about to cross the border into Amity Park. Jason and Danny are quietly talking and he wipes away a little bit of drool as he sits up. It’s dark outside and Danny directs Jason as they enter the city. He leans forward as he enters the conversation.

“You’ll think the GIW’s detectors will sense us?”

Danny glances at Jason, before he turns his attention to Dick.

“We should be fine for a few hours at least as long as I don’t have to turn ghost,” he says. “Half of the town is liminal at this point so you and Jason shouldn’t raise any alarms either. They had too many false alarms in the months since you left.”

Jason looks at Dick strangely once they park where they can hide for the night.

“Since when did you have contact with Lazarus Pits?”

“Never,” Dick retorts. “But living above a portal to the Infinite Realms for a year will do the trick.”

Jason's face scrunches up.

“Who the hell builds a portal in their own basement?” 

Both Dick and Danny snort. 

“Gotta love Mom and Dad,” the boy says as Dick nods in agreement. “Only they are insane enough.”

Dick makes a face.

“I could do without reanimated meatloaf for the rest of my life though.”

“Don’t remind me,” Danny shudders.

Jason stares at them in bafflement. 

“You do know how crazy that sounds?”

“Crazier than Ghosts?” Danny questions with a smirk and Jason pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head

“To give it to Mom and Dad they did stop storing samples in the fridge after we lectured them about it,” Dick adds. At Jason's aghast face he just shrugs. “They are passionate about their work.” 

“Insane, absolutely insane,” the man mutters and Dick suppresses a smile.

It had taken him a bit to get used to the Fenton's and their flavor of insanity and chaos. At first he had been worried about them being neglectful at best, but it turns out that they just needed someone to remind them when they got into “hyperfixation” mode. He and Jazz had to stage an intervention and both Maddie and Jack were embarrassed once they realized they took it too far. Dick doesn’t know who is worse — them or Tim when he’s awake for more than three days. 

He was very relieved when his initial hunch didn’t turn out to be true after Danny revealed himself as Phantom to his parents. They did a whole 180 on their research, focusing on learning about the intricacies of the Infinite Realms, their culture and even politics instead — resigning from their high positions in the GIW. That’s when the trouble really started. 

Dick hadn’t lied about getting amnesia after he was shot and it was also true that his memories had only returned — thanks to Frostbite — two months ago. But the only reason he went back to Gotham had been to get Danny help (the longer they waited the worse the situation with the GIW became) — to find out if the Justice League could be trusted. Once he heard what happened with Freakshow and the Reality Gauntlet (and had the memories to properly realize what that meant) he had been horrified. He had given himself a deadline to — if need be, confront the Justice League by the time Danny’s birthday came around and find out the truth. (He had desperately hoped that this was all a misunderstanding, but Bruce’s words still taste bitter on his tongue.)

Dick knows bringing Jason along was a risk — considering Danny’s theory that the Lazarus Pit were corrupted ectoplasm, but they need the manpower to get through the GIW’s defenses. Even if he’s scared shitless about what they’ll do to Jason when they find out just how liminal he is. He knows this is a death mission. But it doesn’t have to be for Jason.

“We need to establish some ground rules,” Dick says reluctantly and Jason narrows his eyes at the wording.

“If we get captured, I want you to save yourself, Jason.” Jason scoffs and Dick raises a hand, silencing his retort before it can come. “I’m the sole reason you got involved in the first place. Me and Danny may be willing to die for them, but I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for something that isn’t even your problem to deal with.”

“If you think I’m gonna agree to those, you are more than stupid than I thought Dick,” Jason’s voice is scathing. “It started being my problem when you came to me for help and we drove for 12 straight hours to get there. If you say those people are your family — then they are mine as well.”

His lips perk into a smirk.

“Besides, I want to meet the people that might be even more batshit insane than B and got you to call them Mom and Dad.”

Dick flushes slightly — the Fenton’s had always insisted on him calling them Mom and Dad and he doesn’t know when the titles became genuine. Even with his memories restored, Ric Fenton feels more alive  — more loved — than Richard Grayson ever did. 

Danny just shrugs as he leans back, arms crossed behind his neck and feet rested on top of the glove box. 

“I guess I have not only two sisters but two older brothers now,” he adds cheekily. 

“Brat.” 

Jason playfully shoves Danny and Dick gapes at the fond tone in his voice. 

“How?” he stammers — they should barely know each other. “When?”

Jason tucks Danny into his side, angle a bit awkward, but grinning as he ruffles his hair.

“You missed a lot, sleeping beauty,” Jason jests and Dick groans.

“I was only asleep for 1 hour!” he bemoans. 

“Two,” Danny corrects and Dick glares at him, raising a finger.

“Don’t you two dare gang up on me!”

“This is sweet revenge for when you and Jazz teamed up against me,” Danny grins.

“We were literally trying to help you!” Dick complains, shoving Danny’s face away as the boy cackles, Jason watching on with amusement.

Dick might have to leave Ric Fenton behind for good now that his two worlds have collided, but maybe he can still be Richard “Dick” Grayson-Fenton instead.  

i have thoughts, small thoughts, but thoughts nonetheless

i think i think theres a lesbian inside javier theres something in him its so ,, lesbian i dont think it wants to get out but the lesbian would think it would be cool if it did! strange...

Chess Queen Part One

Description: Arthur needed a little extra encouragement from Italian Bach to talk to his YouTube crush.

Spending the day on a rainy football field was far from what Y/n thought she would be doing right about now. Not only had it been much too early but she was also sure she'd be soaked by the time filming was over.

Y/n L/n, the newest member of the UK Youtuber World was not alike the others. Rather than pub crawls and football matches. She was known for streaming playing board games or yapping to thousands of fans. Despite being new, she was popular.

"Oh my-!" Y/n heard, her head snapping to see who had been yelling. There she saw Italian Bach, or Isaac as she been told to call him stood with a man's hand slapped across his mouth.

The two stared at eachother, her bringing up a hand to wave, only for the man to take the hand off and jog up to you, leaving a baffled man standing still.

"You're Y/n right!?" She nodded and he continued "Oh my god, your literal biggest fan is my best mate, I'll go grab him"

He ran back over, hauling with him the mam who slapped him. As he got closer you recognised him as Arthurtv, or just Arthur.

"Its Isaac and Arthur right?" She asked once they were close enough. Arthur going bright pink when she pointed at him.

"Yeah, Arthur here is again your biggest fan. He had heart eyes when you played chess the other day" he explained as his friend died next to him

"Ah, so you saw me mercilessly destroy them all" she joked, in actuality she had done decent, able to win every game. She was surprised when he answered

"You did really good!! Probably better than me," He announced. His voice a little louder than he was wanting. Isaac stood next to him, watching on like a proud dad "I play a lot of chess" he admits quieter.

"We will have to play together some time" she smiled, something that made the man short circuit. His ears going pink as he responded meekly.

"Yeah! Uhm..please" He peeped out. You were going to get his contact information when KSI called over the group to start the video.

After filming, the group all sat under a tent as the rain beat down around them. Looking up at the clouds Y/n let out a deep sigh, catching the attention of Arthur.

He was embarrassed to admit it but his eyes never left her. She had even caught him a few times.

"Are you okay?" He asked, catching her sights. She turned to him, her biting her lip

"Yeah, I'm just sort of dreading walking to the train station" she confesses, Isaac popping out of nowhere

"You're out on Berry right?" She nods "well Arthur here lives like 2 blocks away. Why don't you catch a ride with him?"

He claps his hand on Arthur's back, who nods eagerly.

"Would that really be okay? I don't want to put you out" Arthur shakes his head and hands.

"No!! It'd be no trouble at all" Arthur and you start walking out to his car, the whole time you have slightly awkward small talk.

Arthur had so many things he wanted to say to him but didn't know how.

"So, you film alot" she asks "Your film schedule is like double mine" she jokes.

"What can I say? The camera loves me" he wiggles his eyebrows. The two of you sharing a laugh.

As the buildings pass, the awkwardness passed with them. Pulling up to Y/ns address she didn't want the conversation to end. Inviting him in the two ordered dinner and spent the entire night chatting.

It felt calming and fluid, talking to Arthur she felt like herself.

"I should probably get going, George has been spamming me about not being home yet" you giggle and agree.

"I suppose I'll let you go. Can I see you again sometime?" He stutters

"I would be honoured to see you again, I'm holding you to that chess offer"

And so, the two split up. Once alone they both unaware the other was also freaking out.

One thing was for sure, they both had to practice playing chess for when they did play together. Both were determined to win.

i’ve decided to go down a musical rabbit hole and listen to artists i’ve never heard of and then rate them out of ten and explain their style and what i like and dislike about them! note - i will be listening to their most popular song.

first up is Princess Castle by Jazmin Bean featuring Cottontail, I’ve never heard of either artist and I’ve linked the mv for you as well, i will just give a trigger warning for b!00d and swearing. personally the vibe they have is a vibe i would probably love to listen to but to me i don’t understand the lyrics very well (i’m deaf so i probably need to listen a couple times anyway) and something about the effects used in the song makes me feel like its a bit off. i love the clothing style in the mv, though it doesn’t make much sense to me, but i love that its pretty. i started getting into the song after Cottontails part. I love Jazmins green hair. i have nothing against how hectic it is and absolutely nothing against the fashion and makeup style, i love people and artists who dress like that (i do as well a lot). i just don’t think that song was something i like much, but i’ll try out some of their other music in the future! i think this is a solid 5/10 next i'm listening to Galipette by Lolo Zouai, I've heard of her before but never listened, my friend said she has a sort of r&b vibe but also combines it with hiphop and sings in English and French so I'm excited for this one. again, i've linked for you to listen. i actually really like this, its got a really nice flow, the lyrics are quite catchy, minus the swearing i would probably show this to my friends and family. i like how theres about three or four different styles in the mv and i love how sort of...i don't know, she gives off a sort of creepy/disgusting vibe but i love it so much?? 7/10

and now for Why do you love me by Charlotte Lawrence. i did a quick google search and she's actually been on the soundtrack to Birds of Prey, which was a movie about Harley Quinn. i don't remember ever listening to her sooo...here we go. okay wow, halfway through and i've had to pause because this is so good! i really like the style, the beat is amazing, love the lyrics and the premise of the mv is actually really good. okay so it just finished and i'm sort of obsessed. i'm definitely going to listen to more of her music at some point and will recommend to friends and family too cuz she's a really good singer, and as a producer this is the type of song i would love to work on so, i definitely approve lol. i'd give this an 8/10 as so far its definitely the best.

Sleepover with Stretch

Part one for Stretch x Reader! Since the place I had it deleted it or something, I have to rewrite it. But!! Fret not, I have written this as a way to keep things organized and to allow me to place the writing in parts. Please enjoy!

It had taken ages for him to get ready to come over, especially since he had to sneak out of the house. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Rus, Cash, or Coffee to join, but he knew that recently you’ve been feeling overwhelmed. You usually visit the house to see him and the others, but the other day he remembered you offering a sleepover at your house. Of course, he was about to call the others to see if they wanted to join, but he was abruptly cut off when you threw a pillow at his face. You just wanted…him. Just him. And you. Together. Alone. Hah. Hahaha. Stretch had to bury his face in the giant bumblebee plushie he got from you when you left because he couldn’t snuff out the blush on his skull when it registered that you were specifically just wanting him to come over.

The poor skeleton had to mull over and analyze why you only wanted him, but he couldn’t come up with any rational idea, especially since he had a big fat crush on you and felt too embarrassed at any idea he had. Still, he packed his bags and was able to sneak out yesterday to the convenience store for quick and easy snacks the two of you could share. He debated getting his favorite pocky, but he thought better of it the moment he thought about it for longer than two seconds. Now here he was in his bedroom, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he checked the time on his phone. Everything has gone smoothly, and he was going over each item in his mind just to make double sure of what he needed. He packed the snacks, he packed his pajamas, his toothbrush, his Nintendo for Mario Kart, and he even packed his favorite stuffed animal, the bumblebee you bought him. So far, he hasn’t forgotten anything!

Well, he couldn’t plan the intruder teleporting past his door and straight into his room. “Hey, Stretch, Powder was wonderin’ if-” Ah, yeah, that’s going to interrupt his plans. He didn’t even have time to throw his bag into his closet at a cartoonish pace, nor did he have time to teleport the moment he registered the tall and imposing figure that was Rus. His eyes darted up to meet his stare, the other skeleton’s eyes widened and his jaw parted mid-sentence.

“...”

“.....”

“.......”

“.......................uhm-”

“Are ya goin 'somewhere?”

The question was simple, but it caused Stretch to start sweating. Play stupid, idiot!! “....no…?” “...no?” Not that stupid!!! He wanted to slap himself, but it was too late. Rus carefully analyzed him from the top of his skull to the bag that was slung over his back. He could see Rus putting two and two together as he looked down at his phone where he could easily see the text messages between you and Stretch. He carefully pulled his own phone out, and Stretch just stood still as Rus took a picture. Only when Stretch heard the click did he react. Almost desperately, he reached forward and grabbed Rus by his shoulders as his phalanges dug into the thick material of his black coat. “Rus, Rus please-” “Where ya goin?”

“Rus, look- please don’t do this-” “Are ya runnin’ away?” He saw how Rus seemed to be judging his way of packing as he asked that. “What? No, I-” “A sleepover?” Rus took his phone away from Stretch’s reach as he pathetically tried to grab it from him. Only at hitting the right target did Stretch slump forward in defeat. “...Maybe,” He finally admitted, his voice turning softer as his nerves increased. Rus didn’t say anything for a moment, at least not until he said your name. “Huh?” “Is that who’re gonna go see?” He at least had the decency to ask, even if it was obvious. Stretch, like the other Papyri variants similar to him, struggled making friends. Especially ones that would have a sleepover with him. He nodded at the question, and Rus seemed to be debating on what to say next. Rus placed his phone in his pocket before sliding his hands in his jacket and looking around his room. Rus took a few steps towards his desk placed beside his bed, only to carefully grab Stretch’s camera and handing it to him.

“Okay.” “Okay? Stretch took his camera with both of his hands absentmindedly, tilting his head to the side when Rus decided to look at him again. “Yeah. Make sure to take some pictures. Ya can hang em up on yer board over there,” He raised his hand to the bulletin board Stretch put up a few months ago over his drawing desk. Stretch glanced back at him, nodding his head slowly but with uncertainty. “You're right, that sounds like a good idea!” He grinned, but he still didn’t understand why Rus was being so relaxed about this. “But…you’re not going to tell the others, are you?”

He saw the way Rus shrugged his shoulders carelessly, making a noncommittal grunt. “Nah, you’re allowed to spend time with ‘em alone, that ain’t my business.” Stretch narrowed his eyes at him, which only made Rus look away casually. Aha! He pointed at him accusingly, knowing full well that he was their tell tale sign that he wasn’t telling him the full truth. “Then why did you take a picture?” He shouted, but not too loudly. Rus grinned mischievously, his eye sockets crinkling slightly. “That was just black mail, is all…” "Blackmail?! Rus, Rus I thought you were my friend!" "I am," Rus was chuckling now, placing a hand over his mouth. Stretch was about to rant about his utter betrayal, but that glint in Rus' eyes told him what Rus wasn't sharing. "...What do you want?” Rus placed his hands up in mock defeat, smiling even bigger now as he tilted his at him and turned away towards the door. “I’ll find something ta get ya to pay me back with, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” “Rus! Rus I swear to-” But it was too late. Rus teleported out of the room as quickly as he had arrived, his small nyeh-heh-heh a mocking reminder that Rus knew his secret sleepover.

Stretch grumbled under his breath, placing his hands over his face as he tried to collect his composure. Hey, at least he knows Rus won’t tell the others, right? Ugh…He doesn’t know how Rus is going to get him to do him a favor in return, but at least it wasn’t Cash that ran into him. Cash was horrible about his blackmail, that awful prune. He was friends with the both of them though, so he knew that they would both be a little bit more merciful towards him. Right? Right?? Wait, wait wait wait. Stretch straightened up, jerking his head towards the door as he set his bag down for a few moments. Rus came in here because his brother wanted to know something. “Rus-! What did Powder want to kn- Oh you know what, forget it! Powder-!!”

It looks like he's going to be a little late to the sleepover...

“Why won’t you choose me?”

john marston x f!reader

summary !!!! — you’re johns side chick but you’re getting pretty tired of it so you tell john u or abi.. unfortunately he won’t leave his wife for you.

warnings !: smut at the first part (not rlly smut srryyyy) mostly just angst, johns gets drunk for a lil lol and a stinky cheater lol……. I think thatst it !!! ^_^ enjoyyy 😴😴

i feel so bad for abi in this :c i love her smm ill make her smth soon !!

this is kinda short so i do apologize !! i don’t have time to make it longer :((

—

"Thank you, sweetheart. I needed this." John pressed his forehead against yours, the glimmer of sweat and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke filling your nostrils. Cupping your hips with his calloused hands, sliding his length out of your throbbing hole. You let out a whiny moan at the loss feeling of him inside of you.

"I know — I know, I’ll see you later?" John responded, you sighed softly. John was attempting to urge you to leave his tent quickly due to the rising tension within him. Johns heart was racing at the thought of his wife, Abigail, approaching his tent and finding you half naked in Johns tent as his cum rested on your chest. He personally never cared for aftercare, not with you. You were just something to get his stress out. John quickly grabbed a rag and began rubbing off the mess off of you, burying the rag deep in his pocket, making a mental note to throw it away later.

"John.. I, er — can we talk about this? I don’t —" Your sentence was cut short by John's abrupt intervention, as he hastily shoved you out of the tent. Without giving you a chance to speak, John rushed around, frantically tidying up the cot, completely ignoring your presence.

—

Another heated argument erupted between John and Abigail, yet this one was worse for the both of you. Abigail was growing more suspicious with each passing moment, she began questioning the mysterious marks resting on John's neck. The outlaw was at a loss for words, utterly incapable of formulating a believable lie.

“It’s nothin’ Abigail.. just — quit it,” John attempted to pacify Abigail with a gentle rub of her shoulders, his free hand attempting to conceal most of the marks on his neck from her view by making his jacket cover most. She was unwilling to listen to those lies, growing tired of his bullshit and storming off. Johns hands slapped on his face, sighing frustratedly.

John could feel your gaze drilling into his skull, even after he strolled away into his tent. His temper had reached its limit, the pressure of his situation piling up on him as he responded in his usual brash manner. "What? I ain’t in the mood to deal with you either," he scoffed, spinning on his heel and storming off. A shiny bottle was held tightly in his hand, the contents inside indicating his desire for a brief escape from reality.

You never understood Johns relationship with Abigail. Nobody did. Not even John himself.

—

"I'm getting real sick of that attitude," you huffed, hovering above John as he lay flat on his back on the ground. He laughed drunkenly, his words barely intelligible as the alcohol took over his mind. "Why does it matter to you?" John laughed out a response, his words slurred and his speech already incoherent.

"Abigail or me." You firmly demanded, clearly frustrated by John's attitude. The outlaw's drunken wheezing laughter suddenly came to a halt, his sudden shift in expression making it clear he was getting angry. He propped himself up, his voice still slurred. "Are you serious..?" he uttered, his voice growing increasingly furious as he stared you down, his gaze burning into you.

John responded immediately, the words falling from his tongue without a second thought. "I'm not leaving my wife." He spoke through clenched teeth, taking a swig out of his beer before tossing the remainder onto the ground. The bottle broke into numerous shards on the ground, the sharp noise reverberating all throughout the encampment. You listened to him with a sinking heart, but a deep part of you knew his words to be true. You had dared to dream, wanting to believe that he would choose you, oh, how wrong you were.

"You don't love me?" You asked, your voice full of a deep sense of heartbreak and longing. John kept silent, refusing to answer your question, which gave you a clear hint at how he felt. He eventually muttered out a half-hearted "Sorry." before stumbling away, turning his back to you as you remained speechless, your eyes already filled with tears.

—

Everything has become different, John's behavior in contrast to his previous behavior indicating that something had fundamentally shifted in his attitude. He refused to even glance at you, never acknowledging your existence as he put all of his attention towards his wife. The attention he gave her was all the affection and care you'd desired, the sweet love and affection you yearned for. You could no longer help but feel the sting of jealously in your heart, envious of Abigail's privileged position and wishing you could be in her shoes.

You went to sit beside him, offering a small smile in a futile attempt at garnering his attention. However, he simply stood up and walked away, heading towards his shared tent with Abigail and leaving you in the chilly air alone once again. His indifference towards you only served to deepen your sadness, the tears filling up once more as the painful realization set in.

Why would you even think he would choose you?

teehee🙈🙈

“Pretty flowers?”

arthur morgan x female reader !!!

no smut, fluff, flustered arthur, barely put any work in this ^_^

—

Arthur entered Saint Denis and began to walk around aimlessly, the atmosphere of the town leaving a foul impression on him. He despised it with a burning passion, yet the memory of your conversation and your love for flowers prompted him to overcome that distaste and set off to find those pretty flowers you enjoyed.

After countless hours of strolling, Arthur managed to find an exquisite bouquet of flowers in a store, their sweet and pleasant aroma filling his sense of smell with each breath while the bouquet caught his attention with its beauty. Arthur cared nothing for the exorbitant price of the flowers. The thought of your sweet smile was more important to Arthur than money could ever be, and he felt content with making this small sacrifice to see you happy.

—

Arthur cradled the bouquet of flowers in his hands as he walked out the store, “I hope she’ll like em..” Arthur muttered under his breath. He gave the petals a light caress with the pads of his fingertips. He hoped you would immediately fall in love him and just ask to marry him on the spot. His attention remained focused solely on the flowers, causing him to accidentally bump into his horse. The horse was startled and let out a small huff in response.

“Ah, ‘m sorry, boah.” Arthur stuffed his hand in his satchel and pulled out an oatcake, feeding his horse. Arthur showed the horse the flowers with the intention of eliciting its reaction. The horse simply sniffed the flowers before going back to its usual duties, providing no discernable reaction.

Arthur's anxiety took the helm of his emotions once more, causing his frustration to bubble up in his chest. His uncertainty only further fueled his anxiety, as he awaited your reaction with mounting concern.

The horse began galloping back to camp. Arthur was completely immersed in his thoughts about you, unable to focus on anything outside your presence in his mind. He paid no mind to his horse or where it was headed, his attention only on the thought of you at camp. Every little gesture you displayed made his heart swell with happiness, yet he had yet to notice his horse heading the wrong way..

The horse let out a startling whine in response to the sudden gunshot, bucking Arthur off its back and causing him to tumble into the dirt. The bouquet was now covered in mud, its beauty tarnished and its fragrance muted. Arthur's careless movements as he rolled in the dirt caused the bouquet to get crushed underneath him, the flowers trampled in the result.

“Shit..” Arthur was overwhelmed by feelings of humiliation after noticing the state of the bouquet, disappointed that he would be presenting you with such messy and ruined flowers. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from afar, prompting him to hastily duck behind a tree and hide from view, Arthur stuffed the flowers into his satchel. He cautiously observed his surroundings, scanning for the sound with rising concern.

O'Driscolls filled up the camp, their boisterous laughter and the clink of beer bottles filling the atmosphere. The gang members did not care about being quiet, as their behavior was rather outlandish and chaotic, their lack of concern for noise apparent to Arthur.

Arthur leaned down, reaching for his shiny revolver and firing numerous rounds towards the men, his anger evident from his sharp and abrupt shooting. Each O’Driscoll tried putting up their best shot but died one by one. Arthur’s arm flew up to his head, wiping the sweat dribbling off his forehead. Putting his two fingers in his mouth and began whistling for his horse. His horse soon turned up, nuzzling its face into Arthur’s calloused palms.

“Awhhh, it’s alright, boah.” Arthur was quick to dismiss his horse's actions, forgiving its small misdoings without second thought. Even if the horse made a bigger mistake, Arthur would still be quick to forgive it.

"Let's head home," he stated softly, putting his revolver away and beginning to move away from the area, staring down at the torn flowers resting in his satchel.

—

Finally returning to camp after the encounter with the O'Driscolls, Arthur was greeted by several gang members with a few smiles and familiar greetings. However, when Arthur's gaze met yours, seeing that soft smile you gave him, he was filled with a blend of emotions. His throat tightened as he swallowed the lump down, the sweat beading down his body the physical manifestation of his anxiety.

This was the moment Arthur had dreaded, yet he couldn't back out now. He attempted to wipe off most of the mud on his body but it failed miserably, just getting it more on his pants. Arthur grew annoyed but with a deep breath, he summoned all of his courage and approached you, digging the crushed flowers out of the satchel with his shaking hand. His hand slowly stretched outward, attempting to offer you the pitiful bouquet.

“For you..” Arthur's voice was barely audible, seemingly unable to hold his ground and meet your gaze as he attempted to offer you the pathetic bouquet. The crushed flowers were the only remnants of the beautiful bouquet Arthur had once envisioned, and the sight made him feel deeply embarrassed. He remained staring at the ground with an intense stare as he waited for your response.

"What happened to them?" Your soft and concerned voice greeted Arthur's ears, eliciting a wave of shame and frustration. He felt mortified by his appearance, your reaction to him a painful reminder of the unfortunate incident that brought about the crushed bouquet.

"They.. were like this when I first got em," Arthur lied quickly, he was a terrible liar but he didn’t wanna tell you the true story. You would’ve laughed in his face. taking a deep breath. His gaze remained fixed on the ground while his body visibly tensed up from the embarrassment.

“Oh, what a shame.” You sighed softly, knowing Arthur was attempting to cover up the truth, but you were unwilling to pursue the matter any further. Your gaze found his blushing cheeks, your heart warming at the thought of him trying to get you a gift. It was an unexpected sight, seeing the ‘rough n tough outlaw’ so flustered and embarrassed as he attempted to give you the crushed bouquet. You took it in your hands, smiling at the sight.

“I know it’s not pretty —“ Arthur scratched the back of his neck. He began speaking but you interrupted him quickly.

“I love them.” You smiled, kissing his cheek.

(most of a test than anything ^_^) !!! i put no effort into this whatsoever !

FLUFF, NO SMUT !!!

arthur morgan x reader ! (no gender <3)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You applied the ice pack on Arthur's bruised eye, eliciting a groan of discomfort from him, “I said I was sorry!—“ Arthur began before you interrupted him. “shut it, Morgan.” You groaned in annoyance, the urge to slap him in his face grew. Arthur appeared somewhat annoyed by the fact that you interrupted his apology, as he attempted to offer you one before you rebuked him.

Despite his irritation, Arthur tried his best to maintain a small smile, although it turned out looking more amusing than endearing. You couldn't contain yourself and suppressed a giggle that was eager to erupt from your lips. Finally, you leaned close and kissed Arthur's stubble, eliciting a blush from him.

“Dummy.”

—

again, this was just a test !!! :3 love yaa 💗💗

There are only a few things I won’t stand for in hp fanfiction, but goddamn it, it infuriates me when I see it! As follow:

a) Severitus. Anything in which Severus Snape, the disgrace of the Wizarding World, is even remotely nice and/or supporting and/or decent. It stinks. He’s the worst. Let’s not pretend he’s not shit at everything except evilness. Make this stop.

b) Drarry? What the Hell? In what universe would Harry Potter be romantically interested in a nasty, jealous bigot that has done nothing but torment him and insult his friends? What kind of hipster mating ritual is that? Why would he even want anything to do with the son of the man that facilitated the opening of the Chamber of Secrets? The same man that willingly served Voldemort? That thought Harry’s mother and Hermione were scum? Who passed down his beliefs to his son? The son who, at twelve years old, gloated about how the muggleborns at his school were going to be petrified? Who wanted to have a clearly intelligent animal put down because he couldn’t listen to his teacher’s instructions? Draco Malfoy is the racist rich frat boy of Hogwarts and he would’ve voted for Trump and you will never convince me that garbage kid would ever amount to anything good.

c) Petunia secretly loving Harry or anything that even suggest the Dursleys were under a spell. Ok, there’s like this theory that since Harry is a Horcrux, the Duesley could have been influenced by it like Ron was and that’s why they were hippopotamus dung. I don’t buy it. In the Philosopher’s Stone’s beginning, we follow the Dursleys in the first of November for the day. And not only McGonagall describes them as horrible people, we also have a rundown of their opinions about several stuff, including what they think about magic and the Potters, which is nothing good. And that’s a full day before Petunia finds Harry at her doorstep, so they can’t have been influenced by the Horcrux at all. And then there’s the fact that, when Ron had it, he was only affected by it until he left. When he came back, he said he had wanted to come back as soon as he left. If the effect of a Horcrux ends when the person is not in the vicinity of it, then how are the Dursleys not kinder to Harry after he spends TEN MONTHS OF THE YEAR at school and other people’s houses? How come Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus, all sleeping in the same dorm as Harry, are not affected? Or Hermione? As for Petunia being only pretending to hate Harry, she sure is a great actress, hiting him in the head with frying pans and talking shit about his parents. Because her pretending about all that stuff without ever giving Harry a kind word sure makes the physical and psychological child abuse so much better and acceptable. Not.

d) Remus being a great “uncle” and loving Harry as his son or something. Also known as “if I ever have to read Remus calling Harry his cub and saying he is pack again, I don’t know what I’ll do but it’ll be bad”. People. Please. Unless this is a pre-Hogwarts AU in which Remus’ behavior is different, that’s bullshit. Motherfucker was probably aware of Lily and Petunia’s relationship status. Dude was lounging around wherever he was, probably unemployed, for twelve years and didn’t bother writing a single goddamn letter to his dead friend’s son. A friend that risked expulsion and prison time to become an illegal man-deer to help him with his lycantrophy problem. Something I’m guessing most people wouldn’t have done. Now I’m not saying it’s Lupin’s job to do that. He was under no obligation except that it would have been considerate. The only thing I hold against him is not telling Harry about his friendship with James when he taught defence. That was a dick move. Because if anyone deserved to know he and his father were friends with an allegedly dangerous convict hell bent on killing him to avenge his fallen cult master, it was Harry. And considering that Harry straight up ASKED, it was a super dick move of Remus not to tell him. But the point is, Remus was never involved in Harry’s life. He didn’t write him before Hogwarts, he didn’t visit. Considering how the Order was able to follow Harry around, it’s more or less safe to say there was no wards repelling magical people around Privet Drive. But he didn’t go, he didn’t write, not even a birthday card. Not before he was a teacher and not after. He wasn’t involved. He kept his distance. And that was fine, I guess, it wasn’t his job to do that, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like or respects Harry, but it does not a family makes. Makes this pack shit stop, if Harry was so important to him, he would have been in touch. It’s not like apparition costs money. “Oh” you’ll say, “but Remus is a werewolf, he was afraid of hurting Harry”. That’s a shit excuse. The only way he could hurt Harry by being a werewolf was if he was stupid enough to show up at his doorstep on a full moon, two minutes before transforming, something he knows not to do. Otherwise he has to consciously want to hurt Harry, as a wizard. And quite honestly, if Remus Lupin went about his life constantly afraid of hurting people when not on the full moon or having any reason to think he would, he had no business going to the farmer’s market, let alone teaching at a boarding school. So, no excuse. He just didn’t have that relationship with Harry. Which is fine. I just can’t stand when people disregard all of his actions and pretend like he did.

e) Daphne Greegrass. That’s it. I hate that character in fanfiction. It’s the worst. All the Slytherins are a bunch of childish bullies but somehow every single fic with Daphne she’s this girl with the personality of a Martial Arts Dragon Lady that never shows pain (or any emotion) and it’s superior to everyone else. And she has that stupid nickname “The Ice Queen of Slytherin”. And she’s a shit character. I don’t even think she had a line in any book? She’s the Blaise Zabini of the Slytherin girls, except Blaise has different personalities in fanfiction. Can we kill this fucking trend?

Not exactly emotionless...

Rating how comfortable all the beds in botw look

PART ONE

Quick side note - tysm for all the likes, I appreciate it very much. To put how I feel right now into words, I would say that I feel like a silly little court jester who has done a silly little dance and now people like me

Shrine Of Resurrection

2/10 - would NOT recommend

◍All that fog in the beginning of the game is just condensation

◍looks like it's made for one specific height

◍ain't nobody over 5'3 fitting in there

◍no way that water isn't FREEZING cold after 100 years

◍how am I supposed to be the Hero Of Hyrule™ if I'm sleeping in cold water??

Uh oh hero of Hyrule caught a cold better tell ganon to take a week off terrorising everyone ig

◍at least the coldness would wake me up

Old Man's House

1/10 - would NEVER recommend

◍Lumpy "mattress"

◍the blanket looks so thin that an A4 piece of paper would be more warm

◍At least rhoam tried

But tbh the tried and fell like a cartoon character slipping on a comically placed banana peel

Hateno Village Bed

8/10 - would recommend

◍Looks like it would keep me warm on a cold rainy day

◍Sturdy and reliable bedframe

◍Cute and fresh bedsheets

Link's House Bed

5/10 - would recommend but at your own risk

◍cozy looking

◍Does not smell the best

You gotta think about how many times link has gone to bed without taking a bath (if he even does) and if he takes his dirty and/or sweaty armour off when he goes to bed (which I don't think he does tbh)

◍Cute bedsheets

◍Again, sturdy and reliable bedframe

◍Link might kill you if he catches you tho

Purah's Bed

7/10 -would recommend if you're small

◍Extra bouncy and fluffy bedsheets

◍tbh I really like the frilly edges

◍comfy as hell

◍Will have Purah asking you to leave tho

Goron City Bed

2/10 - wouldn't recommend

◍this looks like it's the root cause of back problems

◍yk that goron that has u get his ibuprofen bc of his back?? This is why

◍Can't smell bad cause the only thing u would be able to smell is ur burning nose hair

Tarrey Town Bed

7/10 - would recommend

◍Comfortable? Yes. Cozy? Not so much

I know that they're the same word but in my mind, there's a clear distinction between comfortable and cozy

◍cool and fresh bedsheets

◍bed would move if you did something tho, so not sturdy or reliable, it's literally just stacked planks of wood

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Hello! I am back! I wrote a completely new Alternate Universe that... I don’t think it’s ever been done before. This is only part one of many.

So this is my baby. I love it dearly. Please enjoy with me.

If you don’t want to read the full thing here, you can find it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105458

***

Why are there so many songs about rainbows And what’s on the other side — Rainbow Connection

As far as Lance was concerned, there was only one side to a rainbow.

At least, that was what he had been taught. You see, he’d grown up on the one side of the rainbow - the one with the light and the color and the beautiful arches stretching over the city, as far as the eye could see. He lived in a city with buildings made of crystal, made for light to refract off them and fill the world with color.

The people themselves were bathed in color - dressed in beautifully colored clothes that complimented their rich and luxurious skin tones, hair that caught the beautiful colors of their world and took it as their own. Their eyes were luminous and their smiles bright. It was as though whatever had created them had harnessed the sun and the colors of the rainbow it had made their home to write them into being.

They learned in school about how to take these colors and put them to use; how to harness the power they’d been gifted and use it to better the world around them. Lance had chosen blue. It was the sweetest of the colors, cool and refreshing. They used it on the bodies of water around them, purifying and healing with it. Many citizens who wielded blue became nurses or midwives or caretakers. They were sweet and gentle and curious beings.

This curiosity was both a blessing and a curse. It often got Lance into trouble as a child. When he got older, he sated his curiosities with the vast collection of books in the city library and archives. He also went on excursions past the city lines when it got to be too much, but nobody knew about those. Not even his best friends.

But after he’d read all of the books he could get his hands on, after he’d learned about the same things in a hundred different ways in a hundred different author’s words - Lance got bored again.

It wasn’t until one specific librarian had noticed him sulking in the stacks that he had been given one particular book.

This was the day Lance McClain’s life changed.

***

“You really shouldn’t do this, Lance.” Hunk hisses for the third time that afternoon.

“Yeah, you said that.” Lance rolls his eyes, looking over at the yellow wielder. Hunk was nervously folding Lance’s basket of unattended clean clothes. He tended to fuss when he was anxious.

“I think it’s cool.” Pidge pipes up from where she was lounging on his bed. The green wielder was scrolling through her datapad.

“We don’t even know if what that book said was true - it’s a hundred years old!” Hunk insists. “I’m almost certain that it’s just some elaborate plan to kidnap unsuspecting victims!”

Lance rolls his eyes, packing a water bottle into his backpack and zipping it closed. “And what if it is true?” He challenges. “If it’s true, then there’s a whole other world beyond the borders of our city! I want to see it.”

“Of all things, why did you have to be blue?” Hunk bemoans, folding a shirt a little too aggressively. Pidge snorts.

“I’ll be back before school tomorrow.” Lance huffs. “And remember - I’m sleeping over at your house, Hunk.” He winks. “Bye!”

“Please be careful!” Hunks calls after him as he slides out the window.

“Bring me pictures!” Pidge hollers after him.

Lance grins, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading toward the setting sun.

***

There are rumors of a place far beyond our borders — a place devoid of light and color and beauty. I have only heard of it twice, in hushed conversations and fearful whispers behind closed doors. Those who know of it call it the Monochrome, or the other side of the Rainbow.

It is said to be a place where the evil are cast out, but there is no evidence of this. I have looked extensively into our justice system, and there is no sign of anyone ever coming close to sending people there. It would be considered inhumane in our leader’s eyes.

Although many people seem to be afraid of it, I have not heard of any threats or worrying behaviour from the Monochrome and its people. As the devout scientist and explorer I claim to be, it is my duty to not only find this place, but learn everything I can about it and its people.

Wish me luck.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

As the light faded from the sky, drained from vivid golds and pinks and oranges and replaced with silver and gold and navy of the richest kind, Lance found himself venturing farther from the city than he had ever been before. It was thrilling, but he couldn’t decide if that was a good feeling or not. He knew his mother was going to kill him if she caught wind of what he was doing, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the things around him. Or he didn’t until he realized that the colors of the sky were duller than they had been minutes ago. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that the color around him was fading. Muting itself. He looked down at his own skin, at his own clothes, and felt oddly out of place. He seemed a little too bright, a little too intense for this place.

Lance stops in a clearing in the trees, looking around. The ground drained from a muted green to a dull, drab grey. It bled into the trees, into the sky, into the land that stretched for miles before him. It doesn’t even occur to Lance to take the pictures Pidge wanted.

The color was gone, replaced with shades of grey and blacks and whites. Lance pulls out the journal he’d been given by the library, grinning and leafing through to the bookmark he’d left.

“The Monochrome.” He breathes, his fingers brushing over the yellowing pages.

“What are you doing here?”

The journal snaps shut between Lance’s hands and he jumps, whirling around to look at… a boy.

Well, not exactly a boy, he looked to be about Lance’s age. But that was where the resemblance stopped.

He was shorter than Lance, his arms crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed. His stance was defensive, his lips turned downward in a scowl. He looked angry, but that’s not why Lance found that he couldn’t breathe.

This boy was breathtaking in a way that Lance had never seen before. His skin was pale and unblemished, almost glowing in the dim moonlight. His hair was the color of ink, looping around his face in soft waves that brushed against sharp cheekbones.

Lance couldn’t quite make out the color of his eyes. He guessed they were some form of grey, because they were softer than the rest of his features, however wary and angry they were.

“Uh…” He chokes, after he remembers to breathe. What did he say to someone who looked so different yet also made Lance’s heart thump hard in his chest?

“What,” the boy repeats, stepping closer toward Lance. “Are you doing here?”

“I’m exploring.” Lance declares after he’d gathered his wits about him. “I read about this place in a book - I thought it wasn’t real! But, wow, look- it is! You’re real! Wait till Pidge hears about this, she’s gonna be so psyched! Can I take your picture?”

The Monochrome boy gives him an incredulous look, some of the defensiveness draining from his posture. “Excuse me?”

Lance grins, then extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Lance. I’m a big fan.”

His eyes flick from Lance’s hand to his face, uncertainty flickering across his face. He takes a step forward after a while, reaching forward and taking his hand.

The Monochrome boys touch is… well, normal. Lance wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting. Cold? Calluses, maybe? Anything but the soft, warm grip that slid into his own, shaking his hand firmly. It’s gone as soon as it had come.

“Uh… Keith. I’m Keith.” He - Keith - says, the wariness giving way to confused curiosity. “What… are you doing here?”

“Exploring.” He says, holding the journal aloft. “So you guys aren’t a myth. There’s more than one of you, right?”

The apprehension is back. Keith edges away, picking at the hem of his shirt. “Why do you wanna know?” He asks, his expression pinched. “You aren’t a spy, are you?”

“What?” He blinks, looking down at his vibrantly colored self. “No! Besides, if I was, I would be the worst spy in the world. I don’t fit in here at all.”

Keith relaxes again, smiling faintly. How Lance — or anyone, for that matter — could have thought these people were cold and threatening was beyond him. Keith had the nicest smile he’d ever seen.

“No,” the Monochrome boy concedes. “I guess you don’t.”

The two of them stand in awkward silence for a moment before Keith clears his throat. “Well. It was nice to meet you, Lance, but I should…”

“Can I come back?” Lance interrupts, blushing faintly. “I mean… I know it’s probably weird I’m here. But nobody knows you exist! Or… I don’t think that anyone does.”

Keith smiles faintly, tilting his head to the side. “Why are you so interested in my people?”

Lance thinks about this a moment, brushing his fingers over the old, leather bound book that had taken him this far and brought him to Keith. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d come, let alone why he was so interested. There was just something about Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe’s genuine curiosity that had resonated with Lance.

He wanted to prove that these people were worth knowing about. Nobody deserved to be a long-forgotten myth. Especially not when they still existed.

So he answers honestly. “I’m not sure yet. But I’d like to find out.”

This makes Keith give him a wide, crooked smile. Lance finds he’d like to document that smile. “Okay.” The Monochrome boy agrees. “You can come back.”

“Thank you.” Lance breathes. “I can’t- thank you. Tomorrow? Here?”

“Tomorrow,” Keith agrees, tucking his ebony hair behind his ear, a hint of that smile tugging at his lips. “Here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Lance grins. “Bye, Keith.”

“Goodbye, Lance.”

***

I have reached the part where our two worlds collide. The color has faded, like something has sucked the vibrancy away from this stretch of land. At first I thought it may be sick, but upon closer inspection, the foliage seems to be in peak condition.

This is a phenomenon that I have never seen before, and I can only hope to meet someone from this land who may explain it to me. That said, I have decided to stay on the edge of this land, in case these people are as hostile as they have been proclaimed to be.

I am optimistic and hopeful toward the future of my research and adventures.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Pidge scoffs the next day at school, leaning back in her seat and munching on her sandwich. It was one of the rare times she wasn’t typing away at her screen.

“I told you,” Lance groans. “I forgot! Plus he didn’t seem like the type who would’ve wanted his picture taken. I was being respectful!”

“It was safe though, right?” Hunk worries, not even blinking when Pidge reaches over and takes a handful of his chips. “He didn’t seem… I dunno, aggressive?”

“What? No! No, he was… Well, I mean, he was worried at first. But he was nice!”

“Did he seriously not have any color?” Pidge leans forward, her hazel eyes intense. “Like - just black and white? Like one of those weird pictures they keep in the museums?”

“Weird… pictures? Museum?” Lance blinks.

Pidge nods, pulling back and giving him a bored look. “Yeah, like the ones nobody goes to anymore? They have this weird section with black and white pictures.”

Weird pictures. Weird black and white pictures. As far as he knew, the cameras here had never been black and white. Maybe… maybe-

“Pidge, I need you to take me to the museum. Right now.”

“Now?” She asks incredulously. “Right now? In the middle of lunch?”

“In the middle of school?” Hunk yelps.

“Yes!” Lance springs out of his chair, packing up his bag haphazardly. “Right now, I have to go!”

“This journal is making you crazy.” Hunk says warily. Pidge only heaves a frustrated sigh, grudgingly packing her own bags. “Fine. But if I fail chemistry, it’s all your fault.”

“I can live with that. Now come on!”

***

The museum desk clerk looked bored out of her mind when she gave them their passes. “The exhibit is that way.” She points, popping her gum and tossing her bright pink hair over her shoulder. “Have a wonderful day.”

“Come on!” Lance walks as fast as he could, his long legs eating up the ground under him and basically leaving his friends behind. Which seemed to be fine with them; they were going to explore other places of the near-empty museum.

Sure enough, the black and white exhibit was tiny, but it was there. And right before the hall, there was a massive portrait and a plaque that read; This Exhibit was Founded by the Research of Doctor Coran Wimbleton-Smythe.

The man was a regal, expressive creature, with wild orange hair and an impressive mustache. He had a wide smile, mirth and wisdom twinkling in his blue eyes. He looked like he had seen the world and found beauty in all of it. Even in the Monochrome.

A thrill runs through Lance. He wanted to be just like Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe.

With a reverent, hopeful breath, Lance walks into the room that had long since been forgotten and looked over.

The walls held big black and white pictures, full of life despite the colorlessness. Coran seemed to be in every single one of them, vibrant still despite the lack of pigment. He had his arm thrown around a beautiful woman in one, his head thrown back in laughter, a drink in one hand. The woman was grinning, staring off just past where the camera was aimed. The plaque on the bottom read Midsummer Festival, circa 20XX.

The next picture was of a family, drawn close together, arms around one another. The mother was cradling a baby. At first glance, they seemed somber, but Lance had seen that expression on Keith, and somehow he knew that these people simply took everything seriously.

The room was filled with similar pictures. There were weddings, celebrations, funerals, or simply people going about their day to day lives. Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe had taken these people and painted them in the same light as the ones from Rainbow City. They weren’t different at all.

***

The people here are more lovely than anyone I have ever seen in even that of my own home. I find their lack of color to be more appealing than that of my own people. Their beauty is not found surface deep, but instead found in the kind way they treat each other and the loyalty that holds their society together.

I have found that the people in my own home, while they may be derived from heavenly color themselves, are vain and condescending toward that which they do not understand. And, as such, I have found that they do not understand the people of Monochrome.

There is such a deeply rooted fear of the unknown in my people. It closes their minds and hearts, poisoning their reasoning and clouding their judgement. I wish they would only get to know the lovely people in these towns to love them just as dearly as I do.

Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

“There’s a museum exhibit with pictures of your people.”

Keith looks up, surprise writ on his face.

They were sitting under a tree, the only one standing on the in-between. Keith had suggested they do it, after Lance had revealed he’d brought snacks and the Monochrome boy had admitted to never having tried the things Lance had brought.

“There is?”

Lance nods, giving him a small smile. “It isn’t very big, but… It’s there. Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe instated it a really long time ago. I guess nobody has bothered to take it down.”

Keith blinks, then tilts his head to the side. “How do you know about him?”

“Oh!” Lance turns, pulling the journal out of his backpack. “The librarian gave this to me after I read all of the books in the library.”

Keith snorts. “You read all of the books in the library?”

Lance smiles sheepishly, turning to hand him the book. “Yeah. I was a pretty hyperactive kid. It was that or get into more trouble than it was worth.”

The Monochrome boy chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at the book. A bit of hair falls into his face, and Lance has the urge to push it away from his face. He’d always been an impulsive boy.

Keith looks up when Lance’s fingers brush over his cheek and ear, his eyes wide and his gaze slightly awed. For a moment, they stare at each other, unable or unwilling to break eye contact.

But then Lance pulls his hand back, a brilliant red blooming over his cheeks. “Sorry.” He says quietly, glancing away from Keith.

He only looks up when a thumb brushes over his cheek. Lance jolts, surprised, and turns to see Keith with that same awed expression. It occurs to him then that Keith had probably never seen color — or at least not color as vivid as this before. So he leans into the boy’s touch, letting him trace over the slowly fading blush.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Keith whispers, looking up at Lance, his gaze troubled. Upon closer inspection, Lance realizes that his eyes are a muted purple, like some sort of smoky amethyst.

“Should I be scared?” Lance asks, just as quietly.

He gets a smile and a little shake of the head before Keith is pulling his hand away. Lance wants to pull him back, hold his hand there. But he doesn’t, instead watching as porcelain fingers brush over yellowed pages.

“I can’t read this.” He admits after a moment, looking up at Lance. “I don’t read this language.”

Lance laughs, taking it back. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

His heart flutters when he gets that crooked, happy grin for the second time. “Yes, please.”

***

I have fallen in love.

It isn’t with a woman, or a man, or anyone in between. No, I have fallen in love with this culture and harmony. These people feel like home. It hurts me to think that I have to go back to Rainbow City, but I also feel at peace with my decision.

The people who raised me need to know who these lovely, monochromatic people are. They need to hear from one of their own that these are not people who need to be feared, let alone casted out for the way they were created. I — we — owe it to this beautiful group of people to understand.

I have fallen in love. Irreversibly, irrevocably in love.

— Dr. C. Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

The sixth time Lance visits, Keith falls asleep against his chest.

Lance was reading to him, the sun still in the sky. Keith had settled under his arm to see the diagrams and sketches that filled the empty spots in the pages. Somewhere along the way, his eyes had grown heavy and he had fallen asleep against the boy from Rainbow City.

He hadn’t noticed, not at first. But when Keith stopped asking questions or making Lance pause a moment so he could study the sketches, he trailed off and looked down.

The Monochrome boy had his cheek pressed against Lance’s collarbone. His thick eyelashes brushed over his cheekbones, his lips parted as he breathes, soft and even. His hand was curled, his knuckles pressed against his cheek and holding on loosely to the sweatshirt Lance had thrown on.

He was lovely.

Lance could see where the Doctor had been coming from. Then again, he had seen it since the first time he’d bumped into Keith. And to think, before this journal, Lance hadn’t even known that someone as beautiful as the boy on his chest had existed.

He brushes a hand through inky locks, not daring to move an inch in case he disturbed Keith.

And after his foot fell asleep and the chill from the setting sun started to creep from the floor into his bones, Lance realized he might just be a little bit in love.

***

“My mom wants to meet you.”

Lance looks up from divvying out the fruit he’d brought, his eyes wide. “I… Excuse me?”

Keith looks away, rubbing his cheek in a gesture Lance had come to realize meant that Keith was being shy. “She… I’ve been talking about you, and… she wants to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” Lance squeaks, not quite able to compute. Keith talked about him! He could sing praises to the heavens, run a thousand laps around the city fountains, die happy in this exact moment.

And then he realized just what Keith had said, and his elation turns to slight fear.

“Your… mom wants to meet me.” He repeats, after Keith nudges him with a worried call of his name. He must’ve been unresponsive.

“Yes,” the Monochrome boy nods, biting his lip.

“When?” He asks, his voice faint.

“Um…” Keith smiles, shy. “Today? She said I could invite you to dinner. So.. want to come to dinner?”

Lance stares at him, his eyes wide. The silence drags for a long, terrible minute, before Keith pulls away, his face falling. “Unless you don’t want to, that’s okay- I get it. I’m- I’m me, and… that’s okay.”

“No!” Lance reaches over, taking his hands, shaking his head quickly. Oh, heavens, stars almighty, he was an idiot. “No. I’m sorry, I just- you caught me off guard. Of course I want to come to dinner. Thank you for inviting me.”

The Monochrome boy looks down at their hands, then back up at him, his smile hesitant. “Yeah?” He whispers, squeezing Lance’s fingers hopefully.

“Yeah.” Lance whispers back, taking a chance and leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to this beautiful boy’s flawless forehead.

***

Krolia Kogane was the single most terrifying woman on this side of the border, Lance had come to realize.

He and Keith had made the trek into town, past a few dozen curious faces and polite smiles (he was certain he’d be met with hostile stares and terrified mothers pulling their children away. That’s what Keith would have been greeted with). They’d walked through the town, right to what seemed to be the biggest house in the whole place.

Standing in the doorway was Krolia Kogane, cutting an imposing figure as her son lead a Rainbow City boy up to her and into her house. And now she was sitting across from him at their kitchen table, her gaze inscrutable.

“So,” she starts, and he snaps to attention. “Keith tells me you’ve been visiting him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lance replies hastily, then clears his throat and adds, “He’s very nice.”

Krolia gives him the slightest of smiles. One of Keith’s smiles. “He is, isn’t he?” She looks toward the stairs, where Keith had disappeared to get one thing or another. She turns her gaze back to him, then sighs. “I don’t know what you know of our history, Lance, but the Rainbow folk haven’t exactly been the most friendly.”

“Yes, ma’am. I… I know a little of it.” Lance nods solemnly. He hesitates a minute, then lifts his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I don’t want to hurt Keith in any way. I… I really like him.”

Keith’s mother studies him a moment, then smiles and sits back. “You look at him the way my husband used to look at me.”

And again that bright red blooms over his cheeks, warmth settling in his chest. He looks toward the stairs. “I really like him.” He says again.

The three of them spend the evening making traditional dishes and swapping stories. Tonight was the first night Lance heard Keith laugh without restraint and the first night he wanted to pull him close and kiss him.

At the end of the night, he gets that chance. They’re lingering on the border, standing in their perfect little in-between. Keith is stalling, dragging out their goodbyes with soft thank yous and his fingers twined around Lance’s.

When there’s a breath of silence, a moment with their eyes locked and the silence heavy around them, Lance leans forward.

Keith’s lips are soft and gentle, his breath stalling between them as his brain catches up with his body. His arms reach up, wrap around Lance’s neck. Lance puts a hand on the small of his back, pulling him against his chest and kissing him like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. Because, in all reality, it was.

They part with the promise to see eachother again the following night. And the one after that. And the one after that.

When Lance leaves, all the colors around him seems dull without Keith by his side.

***

“I think I’m in love with him.” Lance says one afternoon, when all of his friends are hanging out in his room.

Hunk looks up, surprise flickering over his face. Pidge’s typing stops.

“What?” His best friends echo, almost in sync with one another.

“You haven’t even known him that long,” Hunk protests.

“We haven’t even met the guy!” Pidge huffs.

Lance rolls over on his bed, blinking at them. “Do you want to meet him?” He asks.

That night, Lance asks Keith if he wants to meet them.

“Will they like me?” Keith asks, worried as he looks up at Lance. They’re curled up in Keith’s bed, back to their usual reading sessions (or, rather, Keith’s daily naptime before dinner).

“Of course they will.” Lance smiles, smoothing his hair down and kissing his forehead. “I like you. They’re bound to like you — we have similar interests.”

“Okay,” Keith concedes after a moment of long and hard thought, snuggling back in. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

***

It wasn’t going well. Keith was flighty and nervous the moment he saw that there was three of them. He flinched when Lance took his hand, apologizing softly when he sees the concern on the Rainbow Citizens face.

Hunk was anxious as all get out; he had done some research himself, but of course he hadn’t borrowed the journal from Lance. All of the feedback he got painted Keith — sweet, soft, beautiful Keith — out to be a cold hearted monster.

Pidge had her own suspicions. This was displayed after tense introductions when she leaned over to Hunk and murmured, “He looks like a ghost.”

They hadn’t seen it, but Lance had seen his Monochrome boy crumble. He had felt fingers tighten on his own, heard the soft exhale.

“Pidge,” Lance says, aghast. “He can hear you.”

She has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

After an hour of agonizing small talk and mediating from Lance, he’d given up and told the group he was getting tired and that they should probably head home. But once they’d started off, he hung back.

Keith holds it together for a few minutes after they’re out of sight. But then his lip starts to tremble and his fingers twitch.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance breathes, pulling him against his chest, just in time to catch a weak sob against his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps wetly. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. It isn’t your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong. I forgot… just how much my society has been taught to pretend yours doesn’t exist.”

He feels Keith try to form words, and he feels his heart break when all he comes up with is another sob. So he holds him, until the tears are dried and he can kiss those trembling lips.

“I want to take you to my parents.” He whispers, stroking his cheek, brushing away the tears. Keith looks up at him, smoky eyes wide and dewy. “I want to show the world — my world — just how much I love you.”

“You do?” Keith asks, and smiles.

“I do.” He tilts his head up, pressing his lips against his forehead and lingering there.

“Tomorrow?” Keith whispers.

Lance smiles against his skin and nods. Tomorrow.

***

A life well spent is, in my eyes, one spent devoted to easing the suffering of others. I believe I have had a good life. A wonderful life, even. Though I was unable to change the minds of many people, those who listened made a great difference, and I hope that one day, it may change this world for the better.

My life as I have known is nearly over. My bones are fragile, my health even more so. The rest of my life may be spent in a bed, but I am surrounded by loved ones and filled with happiness.

I hope that you, my dear reader, have gained something from listening to the ramblings of an old man. I hope that your life is filled with as much wonder and beauty as I was able to find. I wish you well, in your studies and your happiness.

Dr. Coran Wimbleton-Smythe, Over the Rainbow

***

The walk through town stops many people, gathers much attention, earns stares and murmurs from people who happened upon them. But Lance walked proudly, Keith at his side. And Keith was glowing, hardly paying attention to the people around him as he took in all of the color with childish wonderment.

“It’s so beautiful,” He had said in hushed tones the moment they entered the city.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Lance had answered.

Now they were stepping into his house, into Lance’s life. With his many brothers and sisters, with his mother cooking dinner at the stove, with the house full of the memories he’d carried with him for his entire life.

“Lance! Where have you been? I need you to come help with dinner, Veronica is-” His mother rounds the corner, then stops, her eyes falling on Keith.

Lance steps forward, Keith’s hand in his. “Mom,” He says, with a voice that promised them both an eternity of tomorrows and an abundance of love. “This is Keith.”