#keith is full of seriousness

[tinderbox210]

Dorks 🥰

x

[eggsdrawings]

Cosmic Constant, pre-orders open Oct 14-Nov 10! Buy now HERE!! 💗💗‬

mini klance to hypnotize u guys into buying our zine

[waugh-bao]

“When we're on stage Ronnie Wood is one of the Rolling Stones. But if you wrote it all down on typewritten paper and took it to court, then they would say he's an employee. I've fought against that over the years. I think Ronnie's levity overshadows his musical abilities. And I know Charlie Watts hates the idea of Ronnie being employed by the rest of us.”

Keith Richards, early 1994

[raddestrose]

KEEEEEIIIIIITTHHHHHHH YOUR BACK

Its been so long, I totally forgot how much they took him out

not that much but still

OHHHHHHH I like when they plan attackt and huge battles its so hype

Daaang what does Lotor have cooking, nothing good id assume

And oh boy was I right

there is a reason King Alfor did that and you you g sir are about to kill like EVERYONE

Does Lotor know how to chill? or no?

Does it go like against his morals, like raking a break? Ever heard of that?

Oh that speech was HYPE

oh man Im getting pumped up

OH DANG THIS ATTACK IS SICK

Oh no they’re starting to lose

I really do not like it when the bad guys start to win

Oh boy they aren’t looking too hot

Invisible mines are a low blow

OH GOD SHE SHOT HIM

GOD LOTOR WHAT THE FUCK

did he just dislocated both arms to get out of cuffs

the hell?

Oh goodie,everything looks like its going great!!

Hopefully nothing bad happens

[fanvoidkeith]

some jackass: autistic people just don't feel emotions the way the rest of us do

my hyperempathetic autistic ass: okay so then why do i have this fucking mountain of feelings about everything then

[autisticlancemcclain]

The ship was shaking like a kid holding a goldfish bag.

It was not, in case you were wondering, a good time. 

Keith grit his teeth, planting his boots on the ground and half-walking half-climbing over to Allura, who was paler than Keith had ever seen her. The grip she had on her podium was tight enough to drain the blood completely from her knuckles. Despite his own fear, Keith’s heart softened for her. 

“How is it looking?” he asked, shouting over the noise of a thousand asteroids and a million laser strikes. All while their lions sat, drained of quintessence, locked in their hangars

One goddamn thing after another. Jesus. 

“It is looking bad,” Allura shouted, not taking her eyes off the space in front of her. “I can’t – Coran, I can’t hold it on my own!”

Coran looked back at her grimly. He had probably the most success keeping upright – seriously, was it posture or did he have a steel rod anchored to his back at all times – but even he was struggling against the whipping and shuddering of the massive castleship, attention focused on the controls. Trying to keep the shield up as well as possible, trying to get their own defenses running. Trying, as always, to keep the castle going, even when the odds were a million to nothing. 

“You can,” he encouraged. The effect was less encouraging when a massive asteroid hit the side of the bridge point-blank, throwing him right off the controls and splat into the walls. Despite Lance and Allura’s cries of alarm, he made a startlingly dignified crawl back to the deck controls.

Hell of a man, that advisor. 

He continued once he was steady, sweat beading on his brow but gaze soft and assuring. He waited for Allura to meet his eyes, then nodded, once. “Focus, girl. Hands on the spheres. Mind cool on the exhale. However we need to get out of this – you can guide us. Make your decision. Your team is behind you.”

“Yeah!” Pidge cheered, lifting her fist in emphasis from where Shiro held her steady, eyes trained on her computer screen. Blaring red lines of code Keith could not pretend to read flashing rapid speed in front of her, and she typed back at it just as fast, keeping their crackling systems at bay. “You got this!”

Allura breathed out. The tense line of her shoulders softened, just slightly, despite the ongoing chaos. She lifted her hands and rested them, gently, on the podium spheres as Coran instructed. They glowed. 

“We retreat,” she decided, nodding to herself. “We’re already low on quintessence, standing to fight will drain us dangerously. We must get to safety if we are to survive with our home intact.” She bit her lip, eyes opening. “But, uh, full disclosure, I have enough strength in me to open a wormhole and that is About It. I will be out of commission the moment it closes.”

Hunk shrugged. “We’ll catch you, then.”

“Try not to wormhole us into a black hole,” Shiro suggested, smiling slightly. “We’ll manage anything else, Princess.”

She laughed slightly, thankfully, but within seconds called out for everyone to brace themselves. Keith did as she heeded, or he tried to – but the castle got hit as he tried to crawl back to his seat, sprawling him on the floor. He glanced over at Allura, panicked, but her eyes were already glowing, and the space in front of them was already starting to warp. He swallowed roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. The floor was shaking too badly for him to get his bearings. He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t dream to crawl to his seat. He stilled, resigning himself – he didn’t know exactly what would happen if he wasn't strapped down and protected during a wormhole jump, but it couldn’t be good. He had to hope for the best.

“God,” sighed a voice to his left, “you’d die without me, Dropout.”

A hand clenched the back of his jacket and yanked, pulling him tumbling onto another body. Quick as lightning a seatbelt was stretched over him, clicking into place just as the space in front of the castle finally warped, bright blue, and the entire bridge lit up so bright Keith was blind with it. 

When the light finally died down, Keith was half-convinced nothing had changed. The castle stopped shaking, but instead it was plummeting, hard and fast, controls dead and energy gone, towards the surface of a planet. 

“Someone catch Allura!” Coran shouted, and on queue the princess’ eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward. Luckily, Hunk had been more prepared than the rest of them, seatbelt already off and arms extended to catch her. He carried her back to her seat, buckling her in carefully, and strapping himself in next to her. Wise move – trying to crawl back to his own seat, fighting against the G-forces, would be near impossible.

There was a click, and then a shove, and then Keith got to feel those G-forces firsthand.

“What the hell!” he demanded, barely managing to catch himself on the arm of the blue paladin’s seat. “I coulda brained myself!”

Lance shrugged, playing for innocent, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith could’ve strangled him. “What? Thought I’d let you get back to your own chair. You're welcome for saving you, by the way.”

“Some saving, jerk! We're still falling!”

“Yeah. Personally, I would find somewhere to buckle up.”

“You’re so annoying,” Keith growled, and it was by spite alone that he managed to stomp back to his own seat and buckle himself in. He was bright red, anger making him hot – Lance always made him like this, so furious he could barely blink. One day they’d be making progress, working together like a dream, wiping the floor together, and the next it was like a switch was flipped. Like Lance was reminding himself that he and Keith could never get along. It was ridiculous, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him understand it. Was he so bad?

“Incoming!” Pidge shouted, shaking Keith back to himself. Her screen was now linked up with Coran’s, the only two things on in the entire castle – electronics seemed to come alive when Pidge touched them – and diagrams of the castle systems were blaring red, flashing with symbols Keith didn’t know, but recognised as bad. “The nav and power systems are down! It’s not safe to get anyone back there to force them back on manually, but I think I can get steering up in a sec. Shiro, I need your arm for power. Hunk, keep on Allura, make sure she’s upright when we crash, we don’t want a spinal injury. Lance, Keith, I’m turning steering over to you guys. Don’t fuck it up.”

Despite their bickering, both of them nodded. Neither of them particularly wanted to be turned into paladin pancake anytime soon, so they could collaborate for one thing. 

Seconds after Pidge spoke, a screen flickered to life in front of Keith. Stats blinked back up, glitching rapidly as they translated themselves into words and symbols Keith could understand. The hologram shifted and expanded to its usual 3D model, joystick in the middle, thrusters and controls to his left, a screen with Lance’s comm line to his right. In his little screen, Lance met his eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Keith nodded. Together, they wrapped their hands around the joysticks, breathed out, and let their minds fuse.

As always, it was a freaky feeling. Imagine the weird, shuddery feeling you get when you say the same thing as someone at the same time, voices layering, tone mixing, for a moment your own voice and the voice of a stranger synching into one. The weird, deja-vu-but-not of it, the uncanny valley feel of recognising your own voice but…different. 

Then multiply that freakiness by a hundred, and you still won’t quite get it. 

On some levels Keith was aware that he was his own person. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history – or well, some of it. Nothing about himself had changed. 

But at the same time, he was also Lance Esposita-McClain. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history, more of it than he could ever get from shared stories or mind melds. There’s no telling the way your sister’s arm feels hooked around your neck for the sixth noogie in as many minutes. There’s no explaining the way your breathing only gets calm with your feet in the saltwater. There’s no describing the curve of your mother’s smile. Nothing Keith was seeking out – no memories he would even know to look for – but they were there, simmering, triggered by a smell or the crook of his finger in a particular way. Memories stored in the body and the soul and the senses, not in the brain, shared when two consciousnesses become one. 

Lance’s mind was hyperspecific. It complemented Keith’s well, with all his flitting, quick detail-oriented observance. As Keith jumped from angle to angle, noticing the planet’s curve, the pull of its gravity, the heat of its atmosphere, Lance zeroed in on an island, one of the only ones big enough for them to land. While Keith kept their craft in control, steering along the air currents, Lance kept them directed, single-minded focus on a stretch of rocky beach – not exactly a soft landing, but not a lot of living things for them to destroy when they crash. (Keith would’ve chosen to land in the meadow. Crushing frogs and bugs or whatever is never something on his top priority list of things to avoid. But he didn’t argue when Lance nudged them towards what is about to be a very bumpy landing.)

“Brace yourself!” he shouted, not daring to look away to make sure his friends were buckled. Trusting that they were, he held his position, letting them plummet, coming closer and closer to splatting on the planet’s surface before finally yanking on the joystick as hard as he could. He felt Lance’s strength twist and tangle with his own, and together the two of them levelled the castle almost parallel with the ground, letting them glide on their own velocity until they slowed down enough to let the bottom of the craft brush against the rocky outcrop. 

It was the most turbulent landing Keith has ever felt, except maybe that time he and Lance crashed blindfolded into a sand dune, and every bump on the ground gave him whiplash. When the castle finally hit the ground for good, dragging them a gauge in the ground for several miles as friction finally slowed it to a stop, the leftover inertia yanked Keith forward so roughly the buckles of his seatbelt made something crack in his ribcage. When the castle finally stopped he got slammed back into his chair so hard he was almost surprised he didn’t fall right through the impenetrable material. 

It took a minute for everything to hit. His connection with Lance had been severed the second they hit the ground, too focused on being, y’know, crashed to keep holding on. After the shock of being tossed around like dice in a cup wore off, which did not take long, Keith’s body made it very clear that yeah, no, armour actually only does so much, and crash landing is one of those things that’s just bound to hurt. His skull pounded. At least one of his ribs was most definitely cracked. His wristed and knuckles ached from the strain of holding up the entire weight of the castle as he’d steered it. He was alive, obviously, but – Jesus. Being alive sucked.

“Sound off,” croaked Shiro from somewhere left of him.

“Ugh,” groaned Pidge. “Screw you, Keith, I hate it when you drive.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to let us crash,” Keith responded flatly.

“Um, you did, bozo, I asked you to land us –”

“The castle was dead! What did you expect me to –”

“Allura and I are both fine,” Hunk interrupted. Amusement lined his voice. “She’s still out, but she’s breathing fine, and I didn’t let her hit anything on impact. She should still get checked out, though.”

“Roger that,” Coran agreed. “Ease your worries, Number Two, you did well. I will have her in the MedBay as soon as our systems are up and running again.”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief, because I didn’t want to say anything but she kinda jammed her elbow into my sternum by accident and I’m not blaming her or anything since she’s unconscious but I think my spleen may be a little dead, not a huge deal I’m sure but –”

“Everyone quiet!” barked Shiro. “That’s six accounted for! Who’s missing?”

Immediately, heart pounding, Keith whipped to his right. His stomach dropped. The Blue Lion Command Chair was empty – seatbelt torn somewhere on the shoulder, cracked helmet overturned carelessly on the seat. The crisp blue and white lines were marred by a small splash of red. Panic clawed its way up Keith’s throat, and he was out of his seat before he could register unbuckling his own straps, looking frantically around the bridge. 

“He’s here somewhere,” Pidge fretted, “he couldn’t’ve just disappeared –” 

Coran had a gloved hand clenched in his hair. “The windows and walls should be almost impenetrable, there is no way the crash broke them enough to let someone in –”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –”

“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”

Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.

Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.

— — —

part two

[lovebugism]

for your fall prompts! what about “why are your hands so cold?” with the love of my life, steve harrington?

autumn, my love! ty for requesting! i hope you like it!! — steve makes fun of your cold hands but only as an excuse to hold them (mutual pining, friends to lovers, 2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Family Video always smells like Robin’s morning coffee, crisp autumn air, and warm nostalgia this time of year. It’s quiet and homey and liminal — as orange as early autumn itself. 

The empty store is filled with the sound of your rushed scribbling as you jot down a load of cursive nothingness in your journal. Your hand smears the wet ink across the page. It stains the paper as much as the side of your wrist. 

Your other hand is curled into a fist to prop up your lolling head. Expelling your racing thoughts into the leather-back book is the only thing keeping you awake.

The stale air glows suddenly with a newfound life when a cozier, more familiar scent engulfs you — like pine, musk, and vanilla. You feel Steve’s visceral warmth surrounding you. Before you can blush about the unexpected proximity, he snatches your journal out from under you.

“Hey!” you shout before you mean to, perhaps the loudest he’s ever heard you.

“What’s this?” this beautiful boy muses, honey eyes sparkling. The dull store blooms with its radiance. You can’t believe he’s looking at you with it and with his rosy, lopsided grin.

“Give it back,” you demand, quieter now and smiling wider.

Steve meets your playfully arched brow with a sunny grin. He thumbs through your journal with golden hands from a leftover summer tan. His biceps are all but bursting from his vest and too-tight polo.

“Keith said you’re not allowed to write in your diary on the clock, you know?” he reminds with a feigned seriousness, scrunching his nose when his twinkling eyes flit back to yours.

Keith did actually say that. A few days ago now. He also said he’d dock your pay if he caught you doing it again, the absolute asshole.

“It’s not a diary!” you argue with a beam on your face.

You briefly wonder if you’re smiling a little too wide, and the fleeting thought makes the bright expression flicker. 

You cross your arms over your chest and pretend to be more serious. Something about Steve stirs a deep sensuality in you, though — like a wolf innately drawn to a full moon. The corners of your lips quirk with an emotion you couldn’t conceal if you tried.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he singsongs with raised brows. 

Strands of honey hair hang over his wrinkled forehead when he turns to the book in his hands. He swipes his fingers through them to push them back again, but they fall into place a second later.

You’re too enamored by the boy in front of you to stop him when he starts flipping through your notebook. You know he knows it isn’t a diary. You also know he wouldn’t be going through it if it were. He’s too nice for that. Too sweet on you, anyway.

He finds a random page and lingers there. His eyes flit over every inch of the ink you’ve scribbled inside — miscellaneous lists, doodles, and song lyrics. He figures it must be the music you’re humming all the time, tunes you can’t get out of your head.

Every time I see you, all the rays of the sun are streaming through the waves of your hair, the words read in clumsy cursive. And every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight. The beating of my heart is a drum, and it’s lost, and it’s looking for a rhythm like you—

Steve’s heart flutters. He feels like a kid again. His stomach swirls with the thought that you might’ve been thinking about him in between the lyrics. It’s as unlikely as it is childish. He knows this, so he frowns.

“Oh,” he monotones playfully, brows pinching and lips jutting. “That’s boring.”

“Exactly. So give it back—” You reach for the book, but Steve’s too quick. He jerks it out of your reach and leaves your hand grabbing at air.

“Ooh, sorry, sunshine,” Steve lilts. “Looks like you’re not tall enough for this ride.”

Your cheeks speckle with heat. You wonder if he’s flirting or if he’s just being friendly, and you’re too in love to know the difference. Your terribly hidden smile is wide and impossibly giddy, anyway.

“Steve,” you bite, though it comes out much happier than you intended it to. “Give it back.”

He purses his lips to the side and furrows his brows. “Hmm… No.”

Your smile broadens, and your eyes widen at his blatant defiance. You giggle like a child as you walk the short distance towards him. “Give it back,” you laugh and stand on the tips of your toes in front of him. 

He chuckles boyishly in return and lifts it further out of your reach.

You jump slightly off the ground to grab it. You fail the first time and try harder the second. You just narrowly miss it. The tips of your fingers brush his wrist as your torso presses too intently against his ribcage. 

Your chest scrapes his vest and jostles his Hi, I’m Steve name tag. You stumble back in mortification. 

With a red-hot face and a gaping gaze, you try to stammer out an apology. Nothing comes out. Your mouth opens and shuts like a fish as you pull the hem of your sweater down from where it had ridden up.

Steve has his own look of bewilderment. His honey eyes are aglow with something short of amusement. You’re briefly worried he’s about to mock you until he starts to laugh. “Why are your hands so cold?” he wonders with squinted eyes.

Your stutter hasn’t quite left you. “I— I don’t know. My hands are always cold.” 

You curl your fists into the sleeves of your sweater on instinct. If only to hide how they shake for him.

“But that’s like… ice cold,” Steve insists, crooked smile widening. “Like, we live in Antarctica cold.”

Less embarrassed and more playful, you roll your eyes and turn away from him. “Okay…” you mumble under your breath as you sit back down in your chair. Steve can’t stand you being too far away, so he follows you.

“Like, you just got done shoveling snow with your bare hands cold. Like—”

“I get it, Steve. I’m a freak of nature,” you concede, spinning in your swivel chair to face him again. 

He’s much closer than you expect him to be. His long legs are all but inches from your knees as he stands before you. You flush but smirk up at him in attempts to keep cool about how fervently he makes you tremble.

“I’m just teasing,” he assures with a pretty laugh.

You already knew that, though. He’s too kind to be mean. He’s a dumbass sometimes, but he always means well.

“Here, look,” he starts, laying your journal back on the counter with a quiet thud. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

Your brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

You find out a second later when he turns back to you and takes your hands in his larger ones. 

His fingers are long and golden as they curl around your knuckles. His palms aren’t soft, but they aren’t rough either — like they’ve been used, but not too ardently. And he’s warm. He’s oh, so warm.

You tense at the sudden action but relax a second later, melting into him like you’ve always been destined to. 

“Oh…”

“Right?” Steve nods with raised brows and quirked lips. “I’m practically a space heater.”

Your heart’s fluttering too aggressively to stutter out an intelligible sentence, so you just nod back at him. “Yeah…”

It makes a little too much sense that the ray of sunlight that always calls you Sunshine feels so golden warm.

Steve gives your hands a squeeze. “See? You’re getting warmer already.”

He doesn’t know it’s because you’re blushing so intensely you feel like your entire body has been set on fire. You’re happy to let him keep on not knowing.

“Thanks, Stevie…” you murmur quietly, gaze trained on your entwined hands.

“Stevie?” he chuckles.

Your eyes dart up to his sparkling ones, and you freeze. You hadn’t meant to call him that. That nickname was usually reserved for your too-elaborate daydreams. “Oh. Shit. Sorry. It just— It just slipped. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s okay,” Steve assures with the shake of his head, giving you another reassuring squeeze. “Seriously. I liked it.”

You exhale a nervous laugh through your nose, ducking your gaze away from his. “You always hate when Robin calls you that…”

“Well, yeah. ‘Cause she’s Robin.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time.

“And it sounds a lot prettier when you say it, anyway.”

He must notice how hard he’s making you blush with how warm your hands have gotten — from frozen solid to fiery hot. But he holds them, anyway. Even when they get all clammy. You want it to mean more than it probably does.

“Yeah?” you press, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he nods like it’s obvious, then gets as sheepish as you a moment later. He tries to act cool through his shyness, tilting his head and shrugging as he smirks. “How about you call me that tonight?”

Your eyes go wide at the unintended insinuation.

His gape matches your own when his own words dawn on him. “I meant at dinner!” he follows quickly. “At Enzo’s. Seven o’clock. You know, if— if you wanna go with me or whatever.”

You do. Most desperately so. In fact, you’re pretty sure you dreamt about it one time. Maybe you’ll tell him that if you’re brave enough — over pasta and breadsticks.

“I don’t have a car,” you confess with a forced laugh. “Or a pretty dress…”

“I can pick you up!” Steve assures immediately, then grows visibly shier. He shifts his weight on his feet but doesn’t try to let go of your hands. It feels too right to hold them. “And, you know, I’m sure you’ll look nice in whatever you decide to wear, sunshine.”

You purse your lips to the side as you nod, lest your beam blinds him and makes your cheeks burst.

“Okay… Enzo’s. Seven o’clock,” you repeat quietly.

“I pick you up,” he says, squeezing your hands.

You squeeze him back. “You pick me up.”

“And we spend an hour eating breadsticks and making fun of all the wine snobs.”

The imagery makes your stomach swirl, a dream so real you can taste it — red wine and garlic and cherry chapstick. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you affirm with a sheepish giggle.

He nods, having no idea he’s grinning like a lovesick idiot down at you. “Cool.”

“Cool,” you repeat.

You watch his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip. For a fleeting moment, you think he might kiss you. You want him to kiss you. You might melt at his feet if he did, but you need it like you need air.

Ding! 

The door chimes at the front of the store. 

Autumn air rushes in, leaving you bitterly cold all over again. Or maybe that’s just because Steve’s stepping away from you. Both of you know that Keith will have a fit if a customer complains about PDA.

“Hi! Welcome in! Can I help you find anything?” Steve greets as kindly as always, smiling just the same. 

He only says it because he has to say it. He’s secretly hoping for a negative response, just so he can keep on talking to you.

The man in big work boots and a thick canvas jacket squints around the store. He rubs his scruffy face with a hardened hand and turns to Steve. “Yeah, actually,” he says in a gruff, gravely voice. “I was looking for this movie for my wife. It’s her birthday and…”

He rambles on about her favorite movie, a cartoon from her childhood he’s gone two towns over to find. It’s sweet enough to give you butterflies, though it doesn’t match the zoo that erupts in your stomach when Steve turns to look at you again.

He departs from you with a honey gaze. You smile back at him as he goes, watching him intently as he helps the customer with a pretty pink smile.

Your hands are cold again. So much that they ache with you curl them into fists. 

You can’t wait for Steve to hold you again tonight. Over a white-clothed table, warm yellow candlelight, and wine-slicked lips. 

Enzo’s. Seven o’clock.

[chaifootsteps]

people keep using keith david's praise for hazbin hotel as an excuse as to how great working under vivziepop is without taking into consideration that keith david is a wildly successful veteran actor who is probably being treated great by her because her whole goal with hazbin was to rub elbows with famous voice/broadway actors and not appreciate that some poor unknown spindlehorse animator is not being treated like keith david is being treated and it's driving me nuts

Seriously though. Do these people think that Keith's getting the full Viv experience, that she's going to scream at him and refuse to credit or pay him?

For that matter, Keith's an actor getting paid to work on a gig. Do they think he's going to say that this show's garbage, that Viv's a hack, and that no one should watch it?

[maybe-moonchild]

CH1 summary: you might have won but you’re still the biggest loser. WC: 5.7K

⋆˙𓋼𓍊 ⋆⭒𓆣˚.𓍊 ⋆𓆙

“The fuck was that Kaston?” you called out the moment your feet touched the grass. You had a white knuckle grip on your broom in one hand, storming across the pitch towards your teammate. Not even the cheers and screams from the Slytherin section could remedy the crackle of anger in our chest. 

Elias Kaston lolled his head in your direction over his shoulder, a smirk only growing at the sight of your pink cheeks and clenched teeth. Alder and Jordan snickered behind him as they folded their arms over their chest in an attempt to play his groupies. 

As Slytherin’s captain, you should’ve been ecstatic over the win. You had been the one working your ass off all year to secure the 1976 Quidditch House Cup. 

Except you had spent the entire game trying to score while also dodging the bludgers Kaston had intentionally sent your way.

It had been intentional in order to- what? Knock you off your broom? Kill you? At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had been hoping you would snap your neck before halftime. 

You’d managed to evade most of them, still going after the quaffle and shooting at the goals as they whizzed past your head at the very last second. All of them, aside from one that you hadn’t seen from behind, whipping around at the last second as it connected roughly with your shoulder. The momentum sent you flipping over your broom and nearly plummeting fifty feet. Thank Merlin you managed to keep a grip on the handle and haul yourself back on over the cheers from the crowd. 

“Got a problem?” Kaston barely put any effort into feigning innocence. Why would he? He wants you to know that he’s so determined to get rid of you that he’s willing to sacrifice his own team's win to do so. He stands a bit straighter to emphasize his lack of fear. 

“Yeah! You.” You closed  the distance without hesitation, coming to stop at his feet. If you weren’t seething, all consumed how disheartening this season had been even with the frequent wins. 

A few heads turned in your direction but most of the Gryffindor team was reconvening around their captain. The students in the stands were too busy shuffling towards the stairs, disappointed in the outcome of the match, and not even interested in staying  to cheer while others outright booed. 

You didn’t care. Not when you’re practically boiling under your uniform in animosity for the slimy asshole that has a head on you in height. 

“Seriously Kaston,” Keith scoffed, jogging to catch up as back up in the form of his fists. “Someone could’ve gotten seriously injured.” 

At the sound of his voice, Lance glanced over from his spot with the Gryffindor team, frowning wearily at the scene unfolding. You were sure the last thing that Lance wanted was to break Keith up from a fight right after Keith had been one to catch the snitch. 

This time, you would happily and personally punch Kaston himself. 

You’d been fighting with your teammates all year since Slughorn had named you captain at the start of sixth year. Things had never been particularly warm between you and your team, but you had always made it work the best you could. The other chasers eventually would give in and pass you the quaffle during a match to prevent losing. 

This year, it seemed that they didn’t mind losing at the expense of undermining everything you did. Half the team showed up on a given practice; those that did barely listened to you.

Your clothes had been stolen from your locker multiple times following a morning practice which made you have to return to your common room to shower, therefore were late to class. You’d received some broom handles to the ribs, quaffles to the head, and the occasional full on body slam. 

It didn’t matter that you were captain or that you had managed to get your team to win the cup, all you would ever be reduced to was your blood status; muggleborn. 

“What?” Kaston pouted, head cocking to the side. “Would’ve thought you’d be able to handle yourself.”

Stiffening, you barely let him finish, “You almost threw the match!”

 If you weren’t so pissed, you would be impressed at how you don’t back away, standing chest to chest and unrelenting in holding his eye. You were done being intimidated. “If you would've just played like you were supposed to, then I wouldn't have had to do your job out there."

"Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are," Elerin cut in, shooting you a pitiful look that made your face even redder. You were as good as you thought you were, maybe even better. You had spent the entire game scoring the most points and evading bludgers without assistance.

"Maybe you should back the hell off," Keith snapped. His shoulder bumped yours as he stepped forward, a reminder that you had backup from one of your best friends that had also been your only teammate to listen to you. 

You were quickly gaining the attention of the players on the field. One of those players was Lance, who sighed at the realization that resolve wasn’t going to magically appear. He shook his head in disappointment, tearing himself away from his own team, jogging towards the altercation. 

“What? Can’t fight your own battles?” Kaston smirked. “Gotta have the blood-traitor fight them for you?”

You didn’t miss a beat as you stepped into his space. “Want me to show you just how well I can fight my own battles?”

"Woah, woah, woah," Lance attempted to satiate as he approached. Given Keith’s more ‘hot-headed’ tendencies, Lance placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of it. All Keith did was shake him off. 

You didn’t even pay attention, refusing to break under the leering look Kaston was ecstatic to give. Clearly he had been waiting for you to snap all year. 

"That so?" Kaston didn’t back down either as he leaned even closer, making sure you didn’t miss the amusement in his eyes as yours were set hard. It was a challenge. 

One you weren’t backing down from.

“Absolutely.”

You willed him to hit you. To lay one single finger on you which would let you punch that arrogant little look off of his pinched face. You didn't start fights, but you’d sure as hell finish this one.

"What's going on?"

"Kaston sucks at quidditch,” Keith chirped to Lance's question, making sure it didn’t fall on deaf ears. 

"Don’t forget that he's also an asshole," you spit back. Something lit up in Kaston’s eyes, something that would've seemed like excitement if it didn’t seem tinged with poison. It seemed as though everything had become more and more tinged with poison each ear. 

"You think you're better?" His friends snickered behind him as he barked out a laugh, his breath tickling your face. "Maybe you're not as good as you think. Maybe you're just a filthy little mudblood."

The word cut through the air. 

Your shock showed in the way your eyes widened a fraction of the inch and your face softened. You weren't the only one, most of the students that had moved closer to watch, seemed stunned at the bold use of the word. 

For six years war had plagued the wizarding world, the same year you began at Hogwarts. The peers that had been sorted the same day you had become more opinionated as they neared adulthood. Their parents' ideologies shaped their offspring's opinions to bring hatred towards muggles into the castle. 

People were getting bolder. It was one thing to hear ‘mudblood’ whispered behind your back, hissed in your ear from someone sitting behind you in class. 

This was… something just seemed to change right then and there. 

Kaston, seemingly satisfied at your reaction, straightened and you could no longer smell his sweat still clinging to his jersey. The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the sounds of the few whispers making it around the players, some of the lingering students in the stands taking note of the scene. 

Everyone would know about what happened within the day. 

Keith recovered first, stepping up so he was standing at your side. Yet again, Lance tried to cool him down with a hand on his shoulder. That was all he did, opting to keep his mouth shut because of his own blood status and not even you could blame him for that. Maybe you would’ve said something if you could have thought of anything to actually say. 

Just one thing, one word to pretend you didn’t feel like the bludger had successfully knocked you from your broom, sending you to land in a heap of crunched bones and flesh. That would’ve been less mortifying. 

Luckily, Coach Weaver shouted from where she was hurrying to break up a fight before it could begin. She had been the keeper for the Holyhead Harpies for years before retiring after a successful career, becoming Hogwarts’s current quidditch coach and professor. 

"Hey! Hey, what's going on here? Kaston and- Oi! Back it up. Both of you!"

Neither of you moved but it didn’t seem to matter when she was pushing both of you away from the other. You bumped into Keith, his hand wrapping around your upper arm to steady you. You didn’t forfeit the stare down. 

Alder nudged Kaston who stepped back. The smug smiles on both of their faces were enough to make you wish you had said fuck it and decked him right in the face anyway.

“I’m serious you two, deal with it after you’ve cooled down.” Glancing between you two, it was clear Madam Weaver chalked it up to being a petty fight about a play or a missed goal.

When it was clear that Kaston did not plan on leaving the pitch first, Lance tugged at Keith to move, which in turn, made him tug at you. You stayed rooted to the grass, wanting so badly to stand up for yourself or shove the asshole just so you could relieve some of the pressure of the emotions building in your chest. 

Instead, you begrudgingly let Keith pull you a few steps until your feet worked. You pushed past your friends, letting them hurry behind you towards the locker room. The feel of everyone's staring at the back of your head made your eyes sting with embarrassment. 

Yet again, you were humiliated by the very same people you had just carried to winning this years cup. 

Lance worriedly chewed on his bottom lip, avoiding directly making eye contact with either of you as you put away your things. His elbows rested on his knees in an attempt to keep himself from hanging his head. Everyone knew that it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened again, making him a target. 

"Such bullshit," Keith grunted as he yanked open the door to his locker. He was fuming, body all rigid and tense as he yanked his jersey off. Keith had plenty of his own problems that involved being a Slytherin blood traitor from a family openly in support of The Dark Lord which was why he spent his summers running away from foster homes. 

If you opened your mouth, you might've yelled. You kept it clamped shut and opted to shove you padding and broom away. It was easier to pretend you weren’t absolutely mortified at being called…that in front of everyone. To pretend that you were just pissed at spending the whole match playing a bludger target.

It might have worked too if James Potter wasn’t so... James Potter.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You found solace in the kitchens.

At least, you really truly hoped to. 

Your shower had been quick in an attempt to avoid bumping into any Slytherin girls. Actually, it had been in an attempt to avoid anyone. You’d managed to duck out of the common room, damp hair still soaking into the collar of your sweater, before Keith could intercept you. Of course you loved your friends with your whole heart, but you didn’t feel like pretending not to notice their wary glances checking on you the rest of the night. 

They would understand when you saw them tomorrow at breakfast. 

House elves had proved to be better company; after they dropped a mug of hot chocolate in front of you, they didn’t pay you much mind as they returned to cleaning up dishes from dinner. Eventually, you would have to leave if you wanted to continue to avoid students who came looking for a late night snack. 

You looked like the picture of defeat, ice pack pinched between your cheek and shoulder so you could prop your head in one hand. The other traced the wood of the table and occasionally pressed too harshly into the surface when a flash of Kaston, his smug face and leer, invaded your thoughts.

One more year. All you had to do was finish out the last month of sixth year, spend your summer at home with your family, and then finish out seventh year with your head down. 

James hovered in the doorway, debating whether or not his company would only exacerbate your foul mood. 

Here was the thing, you and James, while not exactly friends, did spend a significant amount of time around each other. 

The sixth year Gryffindor boys dorm was home to Remus, Sirius, Peter, James and Lance, one of your closest friends. Neither you, Lance, nor Keith were very fond of hanging out in the Slytherin common room (for obvious reasons). That made the Gryffindor common room, or sixth year Gryffindor boys dorm room, the frequent hangout spot. 

It was never uncommon for The Marauders to stumble in their room while you and Lance were sprawled on his bed, trying to finish the DADA homework without Keith’s help. The four boys usually came in tripping over themselves, exuding an air of nonchalance and laughing until they were breathless. You didn’t mind their company when they were at least able to keep things entertaining. 

You actually enjoyed Peter’s company when he asked to join you in the company, usually looking so stressed that you couldn’t not help him with his homework. He was good at drawing, doodling little pictures on the corners of his parchment and turning beet red when anyone complimented them. Occasionally you hated the way it seemed that Peter was always tagging along, trying to catch up with the others so he didn’t get left behind. You went out of your way to make him feel included when he was sitting near you in the dining hall even after you realized that he was just as much of a Marauder as the others. 

Remus was dryly funny, making times you were seated next to him for class much more entertaining. He was more reserved at first glance, seemingly more mature and above his friends' pranks when he was constantly instigating things to go one step further. While he was less likely to ask to sit next to you out of nowhere at the library, Remus could remember a comment you had made in passing weeks later and maintained scarily impressive eye contact. Three seconds later, he could also kick James’s chair out from under him at the last second without so much as turning his head. 

You found Sirius’s company less enjoyable but he did have redeemable moments. He was flirty, obnoxious, and a bit invasive, whether that be throwing an over your shoulder out of nowhere to lean his weight on you or take the butterbeer right out of your hand for a sip. There was the time in third year that Alder kept pulling your hair when he passed you in the halls. When Alder took a sip of his pumpkin juice one morning, screaming when his hair would not stop growing, you almost hadn’t noticed Sirius trying to meet your eye from across the room. When you did, he gave you a wink which you returned with a grateful smile, Alder tripping over his hair that dragged on the floor as he ran to the room. 

If James Potter was the sun, no one at Hogwarts could be deemed worthy of a comparison to the moon. 

That was it. James just glowed.

If he ate shit and wiped out, tumbling down an entire flight of stairs, he had the ability to laugh and make an onlooker embarrassed for witnessing it.

That had actually happened in fifth year.

You faltered at the top of the stairs, staring at the way he threw his head back and laughed. His glasses had still been askew on his face where he laid in a heap on the snow covered pavement. You had to blink a few times before scoffing out a laugh. The whole thing had been mesmerizing.

He’d been attempting to convince you to let him and the others into the Slytherin common room later that evening. You’d barely managed to turn him down after witnessing that. 

Normally, the two of you maintained a witty banter that bordered on bickering. Well, a better description would be you bickering with James for being annoying, while he easily turned the conversation into banter with his quick mouth and smooth talking. 

Your head raised at the sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor, watching him warily as he sunk into the seat with a grunt. It was a familiar sight, something he had done frequently when he had no one else to bother. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, I suppose you were right after all about demolishing my team this year.”

You raised an eyebrow which didn’t deter the cool look he wore. With an ease no one else seemed to possess, he shoved back his dark hair, even darker from his own shower and gorgeously messy. While red tended to be his signature collar, he looked stupidly good in navy blue, the sweater loose on his frame while still managing to show off his shoulders and strength. 

He flashed you a cheeky smile that seemed softer than usual, tentative in a way he normally wasn’t. It satiated you enough to relax and not be entirely on guard. 

“Thanks,” you sighed without any excitement. “Demolishing seems like a bit of an over exaggeration. You guys did good too.”

James's gaze softened as he took in the sight of you, the evidence of the game still present on your face in the little bruise on your cheek. You could’ve gone to Madam Pomfrey’s for bruise cream but the pain was a nice distraction for the squeezing feeling that had been occupying your chest since Keith caught the snitch. 

He shrugged, “Maybe… but I don’t think that’s the most pressing issue.” 

You didn’t bother to put any effort into your voice to seem convincing. “What issue? There’s no issue. We won. What could possibly be an issue?” 

You knew that he had seen it, been right there watching a few feet away with everyone else on the pitch. Even if he hadn’t been there, news of Kaston and what he called his own quidditch captain without shame had certainly circulated around the school by now. 

“Come on, I’m not that unaware,” he snorted, a finger pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Kaston was gunning for you all game. Nearly sent you into the dirt with how he was sending those bludgers your way on purpose.” A conflicted look crossed his face, studying you carefully as he tried to navigate the elephant in the room. “Or what he said after…”

Well.., he certainly had the subtlety of a erumpant. 

“Oh.” You sounded disinterested as you sank lower into your seat. “That issue.”

Of course you had known what he was talking about, you just didn’t want to talk about it. 

James raised a brow at your response, but didn't comment on your reluctance. He waited in silence, his gaze unwavering as you dropped the ice pack onto the table. His eyes raked over your form, taking in the mess of your hair, the slump of your shoulders, the disheartened look in your eyes. 

For once, he couldn't think of a witty jab or sarcastic comment to make.

So he didn't. Instead, he glanced at where he’d watched the bludger connect with your arm during the match. 

"How is your shoulder?"

Instead of answering right away, you just shrugged again, regretting it with a wince. You were certain that there was no break of your collarbone but purple had already begun blotching your skin when you inspected the area during your shower. 

“Normal match injuries I suppose.” After a long moment of quiet, you kind of felt like an ass for being so sullen. “No broken collar bone though.” 

You tried to smile at him for emphasis but gave up quickly when not even you found it to be remotely convincing. Fire crackled in the hearth, licking the cauldron that held the stock for tomorrow’s meal, making the entire room feel like a blanket. James could be much worse company at the moment considering it could have been Sirius- it could have been James and Sirius. 

Merlin, the pair of them together at this very moment would have driven you to serve detention every night for the next month until the school year ended. 

"No broken collar bone," he repeated, eyes brightening in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "You're lucky I'm not Madam Pomfrey, or you'd be spending the night in the infirm.”

Your attempt to hide your amusement was futile when you no longer were inadvertently scowling. You stared at him for as long as you could before smiling somberly. 

“Lance already checked it after the game,” you lied. “Just bruised and sore. Not much to do about it without a broken bone.” 

What had really taken the hit was your ego, splintering under the force of the word Kaston had spit at you. Quidditch had been everything to you the past five years, working your ass off each day to prove that you deserved the spot as captain of the Slytherin team. It wasn’t just about skill, which you clearly had, it was about leading, making plays and executing them; getting others to execute them. 

Each year, younger students replaced the older ones, shifting the ratio of those with mild prejudice regarding blood status with those that were extremists. 

Professor Slughorn had seen your determination and awarded you appropriately at the start of this year, the little pin you got to wear on the front of your jersey feeling like it took all of the weight off your chest. It just didn’t take long for the first practice to be a disaster which continued to snowball each day. 

His eyes found yours, and he gave you a hopeful look. "Well," he said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, "I guess that means you'll be back out there in no time, ready to beat me once again."

The words made you wince; the idea of repeating your captain's experience is difficult to play off as you look away. 

“Maybe… I don’t know,” you shrugged as dismissively as you could manage given your injury. Your brows pinched together and you opted to fidget with the ice pack to look unbothered. “Maybe quidditch isn’t as for me as I’d thought.”

James nearly fell out of his chair with how quickly he sat up straighter. You stood, ignoring his usual flair for dramatics when his mouth hung open. A house elf appeared in your path, holding out their hand to collect the warming ice pak and scurrying away as you thanked them. 

"No way!" He exclaimed, unable to hide his shock and indignation at the idea of you no longer on the field. His hands braced the surface of the stable as he pushed himself from his chair, earning an eye roll from you.

“Might be good to just focus on classes next year, figure out life after Hogwarts.”

James’s narrowed eyes followed you when you collected your mug and brought it towards the sink. Something seemed to be working in your favor because no one stopped you, allowing you something to multitask with. 

He just followed, "Seriously? You don't mean that.”

“How do you know that I don’t?”

His eyes darkened, “Is this because of Kaston?”

“No,” you shot back, scowling as you dumped the drink out, letting the remnant of chocolate that hadn’t quite dissolved slowly drip out. Looking at that was a lot easier than looking at him directly. A part of you was certain that the lie was obvious on your face and you opted to keep your back to him. 

“It’s not just about him.”

His expression softened, matching the new defeated tone of your voice. 

All of Hogwarts loved James Potter,  most of all his Gryffindor house and his adoring team.. Not only did they listen to him as their captain, but they wanted to be victorious together rather than simply win.

It wasn’t fair. There was nothing fair about any of it. You didn’t mean to resent him but it was inevitable anyways. His obnoxious pranks, obnoxious friends, and obnoxious personality still made him loved; not even you could truly hate him when he was so stupidly bright like the sun. 

You were probably nicer, certainly much less distracting but anyone who saw the green tie was still wary after six years of classes together. So maybe you were destined to not fit in anywhere here, neither in your house or out of your house, but rather in the space you and your two friends had made. 

Maybe you had come to terms with the fact that your spot as captain had been injudicious on Slughorn's part.

He approached you slowly, well aware of his chronic habit of putting his foot in his mouth.

"Well, who cares what they think?” He urged with confidence that came as naturally as breathing. "You shouldn't care what they think of you. What does it matter if they don't like you? You're good at what you do. You've done well, you've won a lot, and you've led the team. Why give that up over something petty like what they think of you?”

You didn’t respond, facing forward and setting the mug into the sink. His optimism was tangible, nearly suffocating. You gripped the edge of the counter in frustration. 

“Who cares what your team thinks of you when you’re the one leading them to the win?”

“I care, okay? I care what they think of me!”

The admission snapped out before you could stop it, whipping around with a throw of your hands in the air. You press your lips tightly together to keep you from speaking anymore deep, dark insecurities into the heated air of the kitchen. 

James seemed caught off guard, his conviction faltering enough that he isn’t quite sure what to say. His empathetic look started to feel more like pity, making the pressure in your chest grow sharp shards that were difficult to swallow around. 

You shook your head and scuffed the toe of you shoe on the stone. “No one listens to me. No one gives me credit for the wins but they make sure it’s clear that that it’s entirely my fault if we lose. I spent half of today’s match dodging bludgers because my own teammate was trying to send me plummeting fifty feet into the ground.”

Hearing it out loud hurts more than you thought it would.

Being angry was better than being fearful, something that you were more and more each year. The war raged on, muggleborns and their families vanished, and opinions were more vocalized in the walls of Hogwarts. Chalking the whole thing up to Kaston just being an asshole rather than an asshole with a powerful family with strong ideologies about blood purity and the ability to do something about it, that was easier to stomach. 

For a moment, you leaned back against the counter, picking at the edge and letting your confession hang there. He watched you carefully, eyes wide and concerned beneath the frames of his glasses. He wanted to get it, to under stand; he really did but, how is a boy that grew up a Potter supposed to understand anything of what it means not to have everything. 

Without the egregious inheritance he sat on, privilege was in his blood. 

Both literally and metaphorically. 

Adrenaline and privilege pumped through his veins each time he played a prank on someone like Snape. It was as vital to who he was as magic or his last name, acting like a shield that kept anyone revenge on the mild side. If you or Lance would have played a prank like James and his friends then it would be your names in the paper, followed by the names of your family members and the word missing. 

James got to keep his head held high because he didn’t have to continuously look over his shoulder. 

Hesitantly, he stepped closer, ducking his head in a desperate attempt to catch your eye. “I… I didn’t know it was that bad.”

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to scoff or roll your eyes. If you tried, you knew the sound would crack on the way out of your mouth just at the feel of your eyes burning. So instead you just shrugged so you could have a moment to collect yourself. 

Crying in front of James Potter? You would never live that down. 

“It’s just the way things are right now.” The way things were sucked. As you ran a hand down your face, your thumb brushed against the  bruise on your cheek and reminded you all over again about how shitty of a day you’d had. 

James had never been particularly good with words in these kinds of situations, so he went with his next best idea.

In hopes to console you, he stepped forward again, ignoring how you stiffened when his arms wrapped around you.

There was a timidness in the way his head settled on yours, his muscles all stiff as he held his breath. Your first instinct would have been to shove him off if you weren’t so gob smacked. 

You opened your mouth to scoff, fingers twitching at your sides to shove him off because this was so weird, but you couldn’t seem to do either. Maybe that was why you’d truly been avoiding Keith and Lance the past few hours. That the feeling cracking around in your chest has become so convoluted so you could pretend it was not the urge to cry.

And you knew that you really couldn’t control it as you gripped the bottom on his sweater. Your face pressed into the fabric of his sweater, the softness of the material a subtle reminder that it likely cost a ridiculous amount even as your tears soaked in. 

As you leaned into his embrace, James felt a wave of surprise wash over him. He relaxed first, the tension slipping as he readjusted his hold on you. Part of you expected him to crack a joke but you were glad that he didn’t because you didn’t think you’d manage to make yourself laugh. Your shoulders didn’t heave, you didn’t let out loud sobs against his chest or collapse in his arms because you didn't quite have that in you.

This was just... a moment of succumbing to the weight of everything that had been occurring since you received your Hogwarts acceptance letter in the mail years ago.  

The two of you stayed like that.

Time passed as house elves paid you little to no attention, moving around you to continue prepping meals for tomorrow and clean the kitchens for the day. If you had told yourself that golden boy James Potter would ever be the one to comfort you, you would have laughed so hard butterbeer could have come out your nose. 

It wasn’t so bad in the moment, working the tangle of emotions out of you and releasing some of the pressure. All you knew was that you felt a little better. Not great, but it was something. You wished you could’ve placed why a silly hug from a boy that you barely considered a friend did the trick. 

“Sorry,” you laughed, the sound watery in your throat as you pulled away first, using the sleeve of your sweater to swipe at your eyes. You hoped that you could dismiss the moment as his hands seemed to hesitate between falling to his sides. Smoothing your hair, you hoped it made you look more put together; or maybe your fingers just itched for anything to do. 

“Sorry. Normally I’m…”

‘More collected? Too clever to be crying to a pretty boy in the kitchens? A bit more off putting to others?’

You settled on, “Thanks, I, uh… appreciate it, Potter.”

A faint smile appeared with the relief that you at least seemed a bit better, making him brighten with pride at what he had managed to accomplish. 

“Yeah, yeah,” James teased, “you’re a real badass that never cries.” 

James managed to convince you to leave the kitchens eventually. The afternoon had trickled away to evening while you’d been hiding, darkness pressing against the glass of the windows. Straggles filled the halls, most students already beginning their Saturday evening plans. Some would be attending the celebratory party in the Slytherin common room or opting to drink in the Ravenclaw dorms instead. 

At least you knew the mood in the Gryffindor common room would align with your own, wallowing in their loss of this year's cup and you wallowing in your own self pity. 

“You nearly took my head off with the quaffle-”

“Oh please, I absolutely did not.”

“-did a corkscrew and just whipped it at the goal, didn’t even care if you killed me. There would be hell to pay.”

“Such a drama queen.”

James placed a hand to his chest, mouth hanging open comically in offense. “There would be an uprising. I am Hogwarts’s sweetheart, you know that right?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled to yourself as you kept instep with him. He seemed oblivious to the occasional glances sent your way, thankfully not malicious but  just as embarrassing at the reminder that clearly news had spread quickly. You’d be getting curious looks for the next few days until the buzz died down. 

“You, James Potter, are something alright.”

story page here

[thethirdtriplet]

Title: Mentor Tim

So we all know how similar Tim is to Bruce, I feel like as Tim gets older he promises himself not to become like him, in regards to his closed off-ness and anti-social behavior, gets therapy (boy was that something else), matures as a person and learns to take care of himself properly (not everyone has an Alfred lying around y’know).

So older Tim, who does not want to be Batman (who does at this point?), and considers Red Tornado (Aka; the only adult who really cared) his idol, makes an intellectual decision.

To mentor 10+ young vigilantes, that are basically neglected or ignored by their mentors, that he met once on a mission, apparently they’re the new Young Justice members (why do all the unwanted ones end up there, seriously, has everyone learned nothing??).

It’s not that he planned to mentor the young superheroes, but he couldn’t really ignore them when they took to him like little ducklings to water all because he was nice to them.

The were very undertrained and uncoordinated, and in desperate need of guidance, and Tim who has caused or been apart of some of the craziest shit known to man has a lot of knowledge to spare:

Tim: Leo, for the love of god. Put. That. Down. Number one rule of dealing with magical artifacts or magic in general is don’t touch it and run, don’t walk away if it starts to glow.

—————————

Tim: Keith, seriously dude, if you need any new equipment, swords, knives, anything at all, just tell me. Y’know what I can set it up with one phone call, hold on.

—————————

Tim: Peter, if that jerk at school talks to you like that again I give you my permission to beat his ass, I don’t care what your school or “mentor” have to say, they clearly know nothing about teenagers.

—————————

Tim: Of course you can skip training next week for your recital Sofia, and actually, I cancelled training for everyone when they told me they all wanted to go to support you, thanks for inviting me by the way, I can’t wait.

—————————

Tim: Oh, you’ve had an argument with your parent, Nick? Hold on just a sec.

Tim: Yeah, I just freed my schedule so we could have the whole day to ourselves, I remember those movies you told me you wanted to marathon, let’s go watch them in the big screen room, bundle ourselves in the softest blankets and eat a sh- heck ton of ice cream, while we talk about it, if you feel like it, of course.

—————————

Tim: I noticed how much extensive energy you have even after a full training session, Mateo, so I thought you and I could stay and spar, even after everyone’s done. I’ve brought new training equipment for you to try and researched a few new techniques that correlate with your abilities.

—————————

Tim: Don’t worry about not being able to speak, Amara, I know plenty of sign, in many languages, in fact.

—————————

Tim: *on a phone call*

Tim: What do you mean you’re in a burning building?

Tim: What do you mean you set it on fire?!

Tim: Send me your location, Amber, I’ll be there in ten, no- five.

—————————

And that’s how the hero community noticed how the newly proclaimed Young Justice mentor Red Robin nowadays often had one, if not all, of his ducklings kids students standing proudly next to him.

Bonus:

Tim: Red, I am so sorry for all the years you had to put up with my bullshit.

Tim: I’m basically the only adult- no, person, who cares about them!

Tim: I don’t know how they’ve been alive for so long!

Red Tornado: You are forgiven, Tim, although I must admit, it is quite satisfying that you know of my pain.

Tim, with haunted eyes: You have no idea.

Part 2??

[sennerixx]

ᴋʟᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴄᴇʀɴᴀɪʀᴏ:

Keith: Lance, we spoke about this. We have to let Isabella self-soothe. Lance: I know, I know. *Isabella wailing her heart out* Lance: Keith. Keith: Lance. No. We have to let her cry it out. *Isabella's wailing and crying get more desperate* Lance: Keith, Mi amor, Cariño, por favor. Listen to her, what if she thinks we've abandoned her? left her to be eaten by some.. some scary monster? Keith: Seriously? No, Lance. Just wait, she'll calm down soon. *Isabella lets out a loud wail* Lance: *jolting out of bed at the speed of light and practically sprinting to Isabella's room, sweeping her into his arms, cradling her close to his chest.* Estás a salvo, estás a salvo Papá está aquí. (You're safe, you're safe. Papas here) Keith: *Leaning against the doorway of the room.* Keith: Lance: Lance: I lasted a full extra minute this time. We are making improvements. Mhm. Yup. I can feel it, Keith.

[showtoonzfan]

Also yeah this new Hazbin cast is not it man. I’m sorry. Most of them either sound flat, don’t fit with the character design, or are just not as good as the original. Angel and Alastor I especially don’t like, Alastor sounds so nasally and Amari just can’t top Bosco’s performance, with Bosco not only was he good but when Alastor was threatening, he SOUNDED threatening. I may have made fun of Al’s design, but Bosco’s voice is what made the character interesting and threatening for me. With Amari’s voice he just sounds beyond silly and I can’t take him seriously.

Blake Roman is literally just intimidating Kovach, except this time Angel just sounds forced and awkward. It makes you wonder why Viv just didn’t get Kovach back since it’s obvious she wanted to find someone so similar to him, and then you realize…oh yeah, Kovach wasn’t on Broadway or is a big singer. Micheal was really good at what he did as Angel too as everyone has already said so Viv fumbled the bag SO hard with these two it’s sad. I’m especially pissed about Alastor cause Bosco was the reason he was my favorite character and now he sounds so cringe.

Husk and Vox are played by two very talented actors/singers but their voices just don’t fit with the character design, though I’m not that against Christain Borle as Vox, the voice doesn’t fit the twink design but at the very least they got a man who sounds like a full grown adult playing a full grown adult lmao. Husk is a different story however, because it feels like Keith was picked to play him just because he was famous and nothing else. Back in the pilot, Viv had a specific voice in mind for Husk and she found it, aka Mick. He perfectly came off as an old washed up grumpy alcoholic, and Keith’s voice kinda just…erases all that personality. Sure Keith’s voice sounds cool but that’s it, it’s style over substance.

I wish I could say more about Charlie and Vaggie but I’m not sure what to say other then they kinda sound forced and awkward too, and I hate saying that cause they’re also played by two very talented actresses. Stephanie B played Mirabel from Encanto, she’s had voice acting experience before so I hope she ends up sounding good in the actual show. Erika meanwhile…I hate to say this but other than her singing voice there’s nothing really special about her as Charlie compared to Jill Harris, though even with Jill I never felt any strong feelings towards her performance.

Adam meanwhile, dear GOD I was right about him looking bad in animation form, his design sucks so fucking much. Fans were right, that’s Alex Brightman’s voice, he seems to be using his normal voice but just a tad deeper. He’s the only one who’s a fine choice, though I really wish we got to hear him as Pentious here!

But yeah in terms of the voice cast I’m just disappointed man, really disappointed. It makes you really realize how talented the pilot cast was. They were so good cause they were all chosen for a reason that wasn’t just “they’re famous” and it fucking sucks how bad Viv fumbled everything.

[nerdy-nook]

Giving My Favorite Characters Weed: Voltron Edition

VLD is obviously set in the future, so let's just say weed is legal. You can get it if you're 18 and have a medical card or are 21 without a med card.

Shiro

Refuses to smoke because it's bad for your lungs.

"The only thing humans should be breathing in is oxygen"

He uses gummies though.

Got his med card when he was 18 to help with the chronic pain brought on by his disability.

The Garrison is ok with weed as long as the user has a medical card, no matter the age.

Probably prefers the body high edibles give because it's a break from the constant pain.

Used to get super blasted with Matt. Shiro would be trying to have a deep conversation with him but Matt's too geeked to understand anything that's happening.

Keith

Definitely smoked underaged, this kid was in the foster care system.

Doesn't like to get too high because it makes him feel out of control.

Has a soft spot for music when he's high. He'd get the music blaring as loud as he wanted in his cabin and let himself get taken away by the sound.

Joints are his favorite way to smoke.

First tried it when he was 15. He caught one of the older kids at the group home smoking it, he offered Keith a couple of hits so he'd keep quiet. (Not that he would've told anyway).

Introduced James to weed.

Prefers to smoke alone, though he does like to hang out with Shiro when he's high.

He likes the introspective thoughts he gets while high and likes to look inward and do some self-reflection.

Lance

Social smoker!

No literally, he only does it when other people are doing it.

Tried it for the first time at a family get-together when he was 16. His cousin let him try some saying "I'd rather you do it in the house than on the street."

Gets the giggles. Seriously he laughs at everything.

Likes to go for walks while high, as soon as the joint hits his lips he's on the move.

Lance doesn't like to smoke alone because he gets way too into his head. He starts to worry about what people think of him, if his friends are really his friends, etc.

Hunk

Have you ever seen a food creation so wild that you think "Ok, whoever came up with this had to have had the munchies."

Yeah, that's Hunk.

His brain just goes wild with different ideas for recipes when he's stoned. He has a notebook for it!

Does not move after smoking. His tolerance is superrrr low so it only takes a little bit for him to be lying on the floor unmoving.

"Hunk? You good buddy?"

*Hunk, lying sprawled out like a starfish* "mmmm great!"

Lance is running around and wants to go for a walk and Hunk is just like wtf.

Only started when Lance proposed a group smoke sesh. (edibles for Shiro)

Pidge

Did NOT smoke underage, her mom would've killed her.

She gets so creative. Give this girl a nice Sativa and she's off working on projects, furiously scribbling ideas in her notebook.

Found Matt's old stash when she was younger, and had no idea what it was. She asked Matt why he had a bag full of loose-leaf tea. (Ik she's a genius but come on, this girl had no idea about anything drug-related).

LOVES to game after a nice big hit. Any game will do as long as she's with her buddies.

Gets really into the growing process. She ends up experimenting with different strains and cross-breeding.

Not to mention she likes to make her own edibles, and she gets really into the science behind it. Testing how different strains feel and experimenting with different flavors.

[erithel]

So In an alternate reality somewhere, if the writers of VLD decided, for whatever reason, make the klance ship canon, how would they write it? Or how would you have liked them to write it?

Oddly enough I actually have one very specific idea that has been in my brain since before season 8 aired. And I do actually feel like it would have fit in with the show, like canonically.

So, okay:

Shows like AtLA and Korra had a silly recap episode in their last season. And I had the thought "what if VLD did the same thing?"

The basic premise of the recap episode is Lance telling his family about everything that happened to them while with Voltron.

At first he starts out in his usual Lance manner - bragging a bit, putting on a show - but then as he keeps going, he starts to talk more seriously. He tells them about all the intense and scary stuff they went through, and he really starts to speak from the heart.

Afterwards we get to see his family's reaction - and they are all just... sitting there, staring at him.

And Lance is like "What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

And Rachel (maybe) smirks at him. "Wow. You really must like that Keith guy, huh?"

And Lance is even more confused, until Veronica goes over to him and is like "Lance...you realize that 90% of what you told us was about Keith, right?"

Basically, as Lance is telling his family about their adventures, it turns into him recapping everything with this intense focus on what Keith was doing (and how it made Lance feel) - "Keith got my lion back" and "Keith says we had a bonding moment but -" and "And then he just left us, can you believe it?" and "Keith was in the Altean ship and he looked so different - bigger and cooler and handsome."

The episode would end with him having a realization of how much Keith actually meant to him - and the following episodes of the final season, we would get to see Lance fully coming to embrace the idea that he had always had these feelings for Keith. And all he needed was a bit of outside perspective to nudge him in the direction of what he truly wanted and needed.

And the thing is, it actually would have been really easy, because all they would have needed to do was continue what they started. There were so many moments in the early seasons that were alluding to something more between Keith and Lance.

And to start the show with Lance being a cocky womanizer and ending it with him actually realizing he was bisexual and he had found a much deeper connection with his former rival - chef's kiss.

Making klance canon would have been easy to write, and it would have explained why so many things focused on the two of them in ways that definitely did not feel just platonic. Why Lance was so depressed while Keith was gone. Why he was always so worried and, like, protective over Keith when he went off to do something alone and reckless. Why he went so far out of his way to watch the sunset with Keith. Why did they really pick each other in the game show? Why did Keith really leave the team after his "one paladin too many" conversation with Lance? Why a thousand more things that are slipping my brain right now.

I believe there were certain restrictions from the studios on what they were willing/able to show, but it's not like they had to explicitly show klance making out or something to prove they were together. If they had actually been able to canonically have klance be endgame, I think they would have ended it similar to Korra. Where Keith and Lance would just have a moment where they take each others hands and smile at one another - or something equally as subtle.

On a more personal "my particular vibe" note, I would have liked them to write it to include things like:

Keith going full on rage Galra, and Lance having to sword fight him back to himself

The two of them having a much needed emotional conversation - with yelling and crying - where they learned how close they both came to actually permanently dying.

Lance and Allura having an emotional conversation about how they wanted to be friends with each other - because that's equally as important as having a love interest.

Keith and Lance fighting back to back on the ground in a final, epic showdown.

Basically just overall more emotions and character interactions tbh

The thing that I think bugged so many fans - and why this ship/this show is still a sore spot for many people - is because they were building something that had to do with klance in the beginning, and they just didn't follow through.

But if they had just continued in the direction they were headed, I fully believe klance would have been canon because it would have been so easy to make happen.

[ambrozjas]

hi! ur blog is so adorable. i was wondering if it wouldnt be any trouble to request any and all of ur romantic two-bit headcanons xD

two-bit romantic hc’s ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

two-bit is literally so underrated??? like where are all the edits and fics of him, huh???

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of alcohol and hangovers, a few curse words

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ soooo let’s get started !!

❥ starting off, i feel like TWO-BIT would be a very fun lover, the type of fun where he’ll pull you out of bed at night and go drunkenly roaming around the streets of tulsa with you (being careful not get in the crossfire of any socs)

❥ would honestly fall in love with your laugh and i am very adamant about this

❥ would steal stuff for you, in the book it says how he’s known for stealing but i feel like everybody breezes past that??

❥ calls you the goofiest shit ever. like, at first before he’s gotten to know you, he’ll holler at you calling you “pretty thing”. but when you guys are actually together, he be calling you babycakes n shit 😭

❥ super annoying about saying ily. if you even MUTTER it, and he hears, he’ll be teasing you all day long trying to get you to say it again

❥ the type of guy who’ll dance out of nowhere with you. no music, no rhythm, no beat. just two people in love

❥ diner dates????? SHARING A MILKSHAKE?? DOES ANYBODY UNDERSTAND MY VISION HERE??

❥ when he takes you to meet his sister, if you love n care for her enough too?? god, he will hear wedding bells.

❥ most of the time acts like a baby when a really bad hangover hits. usually ends up with him curled over the toilet and you rubbing his back.

❥ not afraid to hit a bitch if they talk wrong bout you, he will not tolerate this “babycakes” slander

❥ cracks jokes and immediately looks to you to spot you laughing, and oh god that laugh is just like music to him

❥ does the thing where he gives you super wet kisses on your face and gets butthurt if you wipe them off

❥ pda’s an eh. he won’t full on make out with you but maybe an arm slung over your shoulder and a kiss

❥ and.. the pickup lines.. are horrible..

“you an orphanage? ‘cause i wanna give you some kids.”

“what th’fuck, keith.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ but seriously, two-bit is like way too underrated. i barely see anything for him 💔

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Accidental Crystal Knight (FoF au au)

So, I was looking over the different aus that have made an appearance on Ao3, and The Crystal Branch was one of them. So here's my attempt at combining it with the FoF au (don't worry I haven't forgotten about the end of the world au for FoF).

We start on a less then routine patrol for the Forest Guard. It's dark a storm is beginning to come in. Branch stayed out along with Tresillo, since the troop they left with were investigating giant footprints in the south part of the forest. If their dealing with Giant issues Branch wants to be on top of it, even if it's just a Bergen that wandered into their territory. Despite the brewing weather, the two are having a very casual conversation about the guard uniform, because Tresillo is on the fence of whether or not to wear the armor since most of his moves are dance based. It's when the rain starts that things go south. Branch sees the hand reaching out for Tresillo before the former bounty hunter does (Pop trolls kind of have a sixth sense for giant hands at this point, Branch especially), and throws Tresillo out of the way. The reggaeton troll falls through the Brambles of the forest's low brush, getting cut up and hitting his head, but hidden. And Branch is taken away.

Keith immediately knows something is wrong when Branch doesn't come home that night. Poppy knows it too, sure she knows that he's takes possible giant threats seriously, but he knows to get back to the bunker before really bad weather sets in. By morning, and after a meeting with the troop that left earlier, a full blown search party is deployed. They find Tresillo, knocked out but Blood clotting saved his life. Still no sign of Branch. They keep searching the forest, but after three days they get the full story from Tresillo who finally woke up. Poppy is horrified that something might have taken Branch, under her orders and the rest of the Guard's lieutenants suggestion, she beefs up security around Trollstopia and on the trading networks between the Kingdoms just in case. All while still looking for Branch.

Meanwhile, Branch was currently being transported to who knows where in the troll world's equivalent to a cat carrier, and he is not happy about it. He doesn't recognize they type of giants that caught him, but he's narrowing down their weak points. No visible joints, probably exoskeletal shells, but there eyes are large and probably sensitive, considering that their practically nocturnal. Branch does not let them think he's and easy catch, he keeps escaping the cat carrier, and attacking them. The female slams him usually to disorent him and shove him back, and try to proorly re-enforce the carrier. Seriously, He has a sword he will cut thought duck tape no matter how much you use. At some point they make it to mount Rageous, Branch tries to escape one last time there, because he hears the twins yelling at someone about how a "better cage" wasn't complete. Needless to say Branch is not sticking around for that. He's about to get into the vent when he pauses at the sight of a troll trapped in a bottle. A hand grabs him and squeezes his breath out of his lungs, next thing he knows he shoved into the bottle with the other troll.

Floyd had been trapped in the bottle for who knows how long, disassociating has become his new hobby, Crimp sneaks him food and water, and the only thing he wants to do is take a shower and sleep in a bed. He barely reacts to when the Twins come back from their little trip, he's horrified another troll was captured, but he doesn't react. He doesn't have the energy. Until the second troll was shoved into the bottle with him. At first he's startled, but he quickly turns his attention to helping the Troll catch their breath. Floyd doesn't recognize the odd armor their wearing or the weapons they had.

"You're going to be okay, just breathe. Everything's fine."

"*huffs* Fine? I've been kidnapped and carted half way across the continent! It's not fine!"

"Doesn't mean getting upset will help. Believe me pissing off Velvet makes it worse."

"Yeah I'll be the judge of that. Those noodle limb idiots aren't the first Giants I've had to fight off, next time that lit opens I'm taking out both of their eyes."

"*mildly concerned* Uhm, My name's Floyd..."

A masked face just turns to the red-headed troll and, "Fuck my life."

Branch does not want to talk with his long lost brother. Floyd was a liar who abandoned him, that's all Branch needed to know. However, Floyd is making the not talking thing very difficult. Every other word out of his elder brother's mouth is either an attempt to make up or utter words of comfort that Branch doesn't need he's a grown troll who licks his own wounds thank you very much. At one point he thinks Floyd's worse then the fucking Spritz. Honestly he's this close to punching out the smaller troll's teeth. It's when John Dory shows up that Branch thankfully gets to load off some steam.

When JD got the letter about both his baby brothers in danger, of course he set off for mount rageous. He finds them in a diamond bottle, Floyd seems happy to see him, Branch however remains on the floor of the bottle silently watching. John isn't even sure it was Branch because of the mask, but Floyd confirms it. It isn't until Floyd starts to talk about the harmony that John hears branch speak, and it wasn't like the sweet little bitty B he remembered.

B: oh for madonna's sake will you both shut up! We all know that the fucking harmony won't work.

F: Branch it will work, don't worry.

J: Yeah bitty don't worry we got this

B: *rolls eyes and stands up* First, don't call me bitty, second we couldn't even pull that myth off when we were still a family, what makes you think we can do it now?

F: Branch, we're still family, we can do it.

B: Please Floyd, we haven't talked to each other in 20 years, I know my neighbors better then you, and i live in the middle of the woods. John, You need to go north of bergentown, there you'll find Pop village, it's hidden deep in the forest but it's there. Get in contact with Queen Poppy, if you tell them I sent you they'll listen to you. She has contact with the Funk tribe they can make an alternative that can save us if they don't have one already.

J: Bits don't worry we got this!

B: John! For once in your miserable life just listen! If your so instant on the damn harmony then do it, but get in contact with Queen Poppy first! If you ever gave a single crap about me, then do this...please.

J: *taken aback and sharing a glance with an equally shocked floyd* Okay, B. I will.

Back in Pop Village, Poppy is besides herself. She had reached out to the other tribes asking if they had any kind of kidnapping (they hadn't, but their on high alert), and asked Gristle to look into forgein connections asking if any sort of giant nation is buying/selling trolls. She's keeping herself together best she can, especially since she's now Keith's primary caregiver, with Branch missing. Speaking of the trolling, things haven't been good. It's the middle of summer so the trolling was on a break from school, however instead of spending time with his friends or working on his book, Keith was spending his days searching the forest. Looking everywhere for his brother, all while wearing Branch's lest vest (he doesn't usually wear it underneath the uniform). Tresillo has been a godsend in this time. EVen if he's out of the hospital he's still not on active duty yet, so to keep busy he's been going with Keith to make sure the trolling's safe, when Poppy can't. The reggaetón troll kind of feels guilty about what happened, even if he wasn't sure what was attacking them. So he's taken to protecting what Branch cared for most, his woman and child. It's on one of these excursions when All three of them come across a Troll and his armadillo bus.

John Dory did decide to check out the forest that Branch asked him too, with how desperate his baby brother sounded how could he not. He ends up stumbling upon a small group of trolls, two adults and a child. He introduces himself, but quickly get side tracked at the sight of the Kid's vest. He knows that Vest. His dad wore that vest, and then he wore it as did everyone in his family, Floyd being the last one he remembers having it, as Branch was too small. Floyd didn't have the vest at Mount Ragous, neither did Branch. The kids eyes were blue, and so was his hair....Holy crap no wonder Branch was so insistent that John come here, he had a family. With how clingy and nervous the pink troll was with the kid no doubt who was the mom, or just Branch's partner and the kid was a case of an ace egg. Either way, bitty had a family that he was worried about. (also how old was branch we he got a kid? This little guy was at least 8 and Branch was what? late teens? early twenties?)

Poppy is a little suspicious of the John Dory at first, after all he's looking at her little Keith in an odd way, but then he mentions Branch and she's all ears. To her horror he tells her, that her Branchifer was currently being held captive. To her surprise he tells her that he's Branch's brother (and that he's brozone, she'd fangirl if she didn't have a scared trolling in her arms). Thankfully John Dory also offers her a plan to rescue Branch. She's about to say yes, when Tresillo pulls her aside and makes cautions her. Go with him is she has too, but Tresillo urges her to contact the other tribe leaders about this matter since this is technically a war crime since Branch is on the council as head of security, not to mention that with his experience in musical combat he knows that the PFH is something that's nearly impossible to pull off, it might even just be a myth so they need a back up plan. Poppy has John Dory drive them back the to the village, before heading out. She gets the other royals involved and asks for their help. Funk is already working on a way to break diamonds before the day ends and the other's (along with the Bergen kingdom) are trying to get in contact with Mount Ragous officals to get them to do something.

John Dory is not happy about waiting for Queen Poppy (His baby bro scored a queen, great job Branch! Also this adds to further theory that the kid isn't actually hers but she and Branch got together after the kid was born...and did that mean his baby brother had to deal with a pregnancy and newborn on his own?) to finish with...what ever she was doing. All he knew was that it was taking time (barely a few hours), and he needed to get this show on the road. Apparently she wanted a back up plan, and he couldn't understand why, the PFH was a perfect plan. Eventually, she's ready to go, though John is worried about the guard who insisted on accompanying her. That is until Tresillo says, "She is a queen who is going into a territory who's people have proven dangerous to trolls, You think we're going to let her go with out protection?" John relents at this, perfectly fine with a third member of this rescue team, at least until Rhonda hits bump and a tiny green trolling falls out of one of the kitchen cabinets.

Keith felt bad about sneaking on to the transport critter, when Poppy asked him to stay with her dad, but the trolling wasn't going to let them rescue Branch without him. Especially, since all of branch's bio brothers would be involved, no way was Keith going to let them hurt Branch again. Poppy can't send him back at this point, and then JOhn Dory drives them off a cliff....yeah Keith was coming along.

Meanwhile in the Diamond prison Branch was beginning to feel the effects of imprisonment. He's started having nightmares of Poppy and Keith trapped in a bottle in Velvet's clutches, and they're impossible to hide from Floyd, because even if Branch tiled the Bottle onto its side they're still practically sleeping on top of each other. Floyd keeps trying to get Branch to talk about it, but all he gives his red-headed brother was that "Just dreams about horrible things happening to people I actually care about." It isn't until a dress rehearsal that Branch finally cut's Floyd some slack. The spritz hurts but the knight manages to recover quickly. Floyd not so much. Branch isn't sure if it's due to Floyd's longer imprisonment, the fact that he's trying to push the little food and water that Crimp and Veneer are sneaking them on to Branch, or the lack of sleep. Still once he watch's Floyd's feet crystalize do major alarm bells start ringing in his head. Though, he waits until Crimp and the twins were gone until doing anything.

B: Sit down.

F: What?

B: Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: Branch don't worry I'm fine.

B: Don't give me that crap. You and I both know you're feet turning into rocks is not normal. Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: *sigh* fine

B: Do they hurt?

F: no, they just feel cold.

B: *mumbling* could be messing with blood circulation...

F: Did you become a doctor?

B: What?

F: did you become a doctor? You seem to know what your doing.

B: No, just field medicine, first aid that kind of thing.

F: so first responder?

B: No.

F: then why....

B: *rolling his eyes* if you must know it's an occupational requirement. And no I'm not telling you why for what my job is. Can you feel this?

F: Feel what?

B: I'm pressing the sharp end of my gauntlet tip into the ball of your foot. You can't feel it?

F: N-no...what does that mean?

B: Well either, you're foot is dying or what ever this is is damaging you're nerves.

Back with the rescue Squad, John Dory's post card is not well received, but Tresillo actually recognized the island so they're not shooting completely blind. Still that didn't mean he agreed with getting them nearly drowned. Though, he and Keith do like John's machette. Keith asks if Tresillo had ever been to the island, nad sadly the reggaeton troll hasn't, his squad's hunts mostly stuck inland.

Bruce is surprised to see John Dory, but it happy to see his brother, even if they parted on bad terms. He also recognizes the vest, and takes notice of Keith's hair color, drawing the same false conclusion. When Poppy introduces her self as Branch's Girlfriend, all he wants to do is congratulate his baby brother on such a beautiful family. All he feels is horror when he learns about Branch and Floyd being kidnapped. Once given the okay from Brandy, they leave to look for Clay.

Finding the middle brother is harder then they thought, it's a good hour or two, of Keith making a clue board, calling Tresillo's old informants, Bruce driving since he doesn't know the first thing about tracking, until Keith remembers how wolves track and finds the funderdrawers. Yeah everyone is grateful to john for keeping them, but are incredibly grossed out. The only shared thought between the whole group when they enter the golf course is "Someone was murdered here"

Meeting Viva and Clay is a little different in canon. Poppy is already stressed out by her boyfriend being in danger, so she doesn't react all that well when viva is revealed to be her sister, and kind of has a little break down with Keith in her arms. This leads to Bruce and John explaining the situation to Clay and viva, still under the impression that Keith is Branch's kid and Poppy is practically the kids mom, and how the two youngest are in danger. Tresillo isn't apart of this convo to correct them, becasue the putt putts are giving him bad vibes and he's not going to slack on his protection detail here. Viva wants to convince Poppy and Keith to stay in the golf course, safe, and spends the next hour trying to convince her to stay. After all, while she feels bad for Branch, Giants got him, in viva's mind he's as good as dead. Clay starts working on their escape, planning on using Poppy and keith as a distraction while they run out to get Branch and Floyd. Tresillo objects to this, after all did they even think that Poppy and Keith would be okay with such a plan. Clay asks why would that matter they would all be coming back here. This sparks a conversation about how Poppy, Keith, Tresillo and Branch had lives outside of the golf course and they couldn't stay. Bruce has to agree with the reggaton troll much to Clay's disappointment. Viva tries to tap them, but this only makes Poppy more upset, Keith unlocks the gate and they get out of there. Poppy's hurt that she and viva didn't get along, but she has to think about more then just herself, she has to worry about Keith, her kingdom and of course Branch. She can't loose her Branchifer.

Back in the bottle, Branch is getting more desperate. Whatever those shoulder pads did was 10x worse then the bottle, and while Branch hasn't had anymore symptoms other then exhaustion and some bruising from the rough handling, the same couldn't be said for Floyd. The crystalization had spread to his hands, legs and even hair. The elder brother is half asleep most of the time and constantly freezing. The shivering gets to the point where Branch feels bad enough to take off his armor, shirt helmet and gloves to try and keep Floyd warm by giving it to him, also to protect Floyd from hurting himself since he can't feel much of his body anymore. This reveals the scar the chef gave him and Floyd is horrified Branch still refuses to tell him what happened but that is enough to know it's bad. They try to escape with Floyd playing dead and Branch calling out for help. The moment the bottle opens Branch jumps out and attacks Velvet with his sword, cutting up her face and using his hair to choke her while telling Floyd to run for it. Floyd doesn't get far, as he turns back just in time to see Velvet Rip Branch off her and throw him to the floor before kicking him into the wall. In the end the attempt fails, and without his armor to protect him Branch suffers severe injuries.

Inside of Rhonda practice is happening (Tresillo's driving since he doesn't want to be involved). From the start it's a disaster. Poppy is pulled in as a practice substitute for Floyd and John tries to get Keith to play Branch's role, but Keith doesn't like to sing. Poppy steps in and tells John to back off when he pushes. Very quickly everyone looses track of why they're doing this by picking at each other's old wounds. The rising tension and shouting, finally pushes Keith over the edge. The trolling starts sobbing about how Branch is going to die and none of them care. Poppy rips off the puffy vest and runs to the trolling's comfort. They all make half hearted apologies but then "Mission the mission, after this we go our seperate ways". Poppy has some chose words for them.

Poppy: I don't know what happened back then. But what happened after? You're all at fault. I used to think could caring Branch was towards everyone, wanting everyone safe, was just him having a good heart. But no, its because no one did that for him, and the one person that did...may Madonna bless your Grandmother soul because she must be turning in her grave if she knows what's happening right now. No wonder Branch never told anyone about you.

Tresillo pulls over and they (Poppy, tresillo and Keith) leave. they meet up with Marimba and Tambora with the plan to get Branch and floyd out of there, before bringing them to the Funk trolls to get them free. Infiltration is easy for three former bounty hunters and Poppy and Keith are fast learners. they find Branch and Floyd easy enough. Poppy and Branch reunite with hapy tears and Keith and Branch hug through the bottle, while the reggaton trolls try to find a weak spot in the bottle. They don't find one and their too small to get the lid off. they have to retreat back into the vents, just as the twins come back.

The car chase is utter hell for Branch. He's fairly certain he has several broken ribs and a concussion, every jump and jostle is a whirlwind of Pain. Even worse Floyd is barely conscious at this point, and to keep him aware Branch is answering any mumbled question his elder brother asks. Mostly Floyd wants to know who the Pink troll and green trolling were. Branch answers but still keeps certain things private, it's only when Floyd starts talking like he's on his death bed does Branch get really concerned. He might not be on best of terms with Floyd but he doesn't want him to die.

It isn't the harmony that frees them, instead it's the proper authorities stopping the boat and arresting the twins at the end of the ride. Poppy Breathes a sigh of relief knowing that Essence and Quincy were successful in getting the mount rageous leaders to help and make a device that could undo the lids of the bottles. Cooper arrives in a smaller shuttle to take them to the hospital in Vibe city, and with Floyd still half out of it with crystalized limbs and Branch developing a collapsed lung, they don't object. (they take Rhonda with them in a separate shuttle).

Branch is taken to get scanned and eventually the surgery table to fix internal bleeding, but over all his prognosis is good. Poppy and Keith wait at his bedside almost never leaving. Tresillo pop in and out, but he's there when Branch wakes up. "You came for me?" "C'mon hermano, I couldn't let you hold saving my life over me for too long."

It's Floyd everyone is worried about. During the transit he lost consciousness and eventually slipped into a comatose state. the doctor's set his fractures and put him on supportive measures, a feeding tube, IV, and breathing tube, but there's little they can do for the crystallization at the moment. He spends three days in the ICU before the doctor's notice a small improvement with the crystal creeping back.

With Floyd not being allow visitors until he's more stable, three panicking older brothers turn their mother-hening towards Branch. The Knight is not happy about it. Poppy was sadly pulled away since she needed to help with all the legal matters of the scandal, being Pop queen it was her tribe was directly threatened and she needs to be present in the meetings with the Mount Rageous leaders. Branch also makes Keith go hang out with cooper for a few hours a day so the kid isn't just sitting in a hospital room. He can't really move due to the chest tube, but he is very tempted to leap out of bed and smack his bio-family up the head, when they act like they know what's best for him. Needless to say they are force to air the dirty laundry and Branch lets them have it. The brothers know they have a lot to make up for and they are willing to make it work. Branch with some prodding from Keith allows them a chance, but he calls the shots. He also sets them straight regarding his relationship with Keith (they are all a little embarrassed by that misunderstanding). Eventually Branch is let off th chest tube and allowed to go home with strict orders to rest and go to a hospital the moment anything felt off.

Life goes on another two months, Bruce left and came back, Clay helped convince some of the putt putts to move to Pop village, Poppy and Viva reconcile, the twins are given a life sentence and use of trolls for talent enhancement is outlawed, John Dory sticks around the village to make sure his brothers are safe, Keith is getting used to have more then one Brother. Eveything seems to be getting better...except for Floyd.

Three months pass, Floyd still hasn't woken up. The crystal is gone, but his limbs remain thin and pale, and the roots of his hair remain stark white. He was moved to the hospital in Trollstopia for long term care. The doctor's aren't hopeful. One day Branch is visiting, his brother's hand cold in his, "If you don't wake up, and make all our hard work to save you worth nothing, then I'll never forgive you."

Floyd's hazy eyes open...

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Well here's this idea. I think this was a great idea to celebrate the end of the summer semester. Once more ask all the questions you want. I really need to go to bed.