#amaje fics

[scpwiki-official]

what is a different shade of green? i cant find it on the wiki

Its a cute little fic we found about Amaj's time as 4231-b

[nadiarizavi]

the universe's guide to getting over it

step six: how to die in a depressingly boring way

“I have an idea to run by you.”

“Famous Lance plans,” Pidge said, rolling over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “But this is annoying. You’re being annoying. Why won’t you just let me go?”

“Because you--” he stopped himself. She imagined what he was going to say, each word in her head poisoning itself in sarcasm and anger.

Because you’re a part of this team. Because you’re a Paladin of Voltron. Because you’re my friend.

“Because you don’t have to go through everything by yourself, for fuck’s sake.”

Her heart shuddered.

“I’m not--”

“No, shut up. I’m trying to get my thoughts out. I was talking to Keith. About you, obviously, cause you’re occupying too much brain space. And you made him cry. Or I did. I don’t know. But it was like, wow, the fuck are we doing? I--I want to be mad at you, forever. For the rest of my life. I fucking despise you. You used to be so smart, but now you’re dumb, because you’re what? Self destructing because it hurts? Letting the people who love you get struck by the shrapnel because it’s easier to be alone? Is that what you want to do the rest of your fucking life?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Lance kept going.

“I’m not going to force you to come back. I know I’m the last person who can make you do that. You’re the cool independent force of nature and I’m--fucking--I’m me. I’m the guy who’s still pretending.”

ao3

[rosileeduckie]

Sweet Heart

You can do anything on a sugar high and with the right support.

Amajiki is nervous, and Kirishima is a good friend. Business as usual. :) As requested by @cupcake-spice13!

SFW. Potential warnings: none. My Hero Academia tickle fic.

Word count: 1,098

~*~

Fatgum often shared snacks with his interns. He carried food around all the time for his Quirk anyway, and people sometimes underestimated the power sweets and a kind smile could have on someone’s day. After particularly long days of hero work, Fatgum would splurge for his favorite student helpers, leaving Amajiki and Kirishima with a grin and a pat on the back each for good work as well as a pile of treats on the table between them while the pro went to finish the day with some paperwork.

Kirishima was happy to end the day that way, with the approval of a superior and trading candy with Amajiki, the older student sometimes even sharing stories from school and the field with him. That day though, Amajiki was quiet. Quieter than usual, anyway. Though he was sort of a ‘bulldoze past awkwardness and laugh’ kind of guy, Kirishima tried not to push with Amajiki. He hummed quietly and made sure Amajiki’s side of the table held all his preferred snacks, and he waited.

Amajiki would have been touched by the considerate gestures, but he was too busy chasing anxious thoughts around his mind and feeling the material of his cowl just to give himself some grounding sensation. Only for him did that day have a particular weight, the weight of a promise he’d made to himself that grew heavier by the hour, even as he had only been sitting at that table for a few minutes.

Eventually, Kirishima couldn’t take it anymore. He gently waved a hand in front of Amajiki’s face, smiling in what he hoped was encouragement when Amajiki jumped and looked at him. “Hey. You okay?”

“Um,” Amajiki replied, shrinking a little into his hood. “I just…”

The red-haired student could see his elder’s eyes widen and his mouth work uselessly. Unsure of how else to help, Kirishima offered Amajiki a piece of candy and a patient smile.

Blinking, Amajiki took some deep breaths and accepted the treat. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, holding it on his tongue and focusing on the flavors. By the time he was ready to take another piece, Amajiki was calmer. He nodded to Kirishima in thanks and tucked his hands into his sleeves. “I’m going to ask Mirio out today,” he said, and the steadiness of his own voice surprised him.

“Amajiki!” Kirishima grinned. “That’s awesome!”

Worried as Amajiki had been about the shift in dynamic with Fatgum taking on another intern, he really had come to like Kirishima quickly. The hardy hero-in-training was a lot like Togata, having that kind of sunny positivity that even Amajiki couldn’t help but smile at. But the clouds of his anxiety were heavy that day. Even at Kirishima’s sharp, beaming grin, Amajiki couldn’t quite return the enthusiasm. “But… what if he…”

“What if he says no?” Kirishima finished, gentle with empathy of having experienced that terror before. Amajiki nodded. His smile having faded to a thoughtful frown around chewing his own piece of candy, Kirishima mused. Then, struck with realization, he grinned once again. “Of course, he’ll say yes,” Kirishima assured Amajiki with a pat to the shoulder. When Amajiki peeked out of his hood enough to look at his fellow, Kirishima declared, “You’re awesome!”

Amajiki all but vanished within his cloak at that, flushed to the tips of his pointed ears and unable to stifle the tiny grateful smile that graced his lips. He dared to peer out when Kirishima spoke again.

“And, come on, your Quirk!” When Amajiki’s brow furrowed in confusion, Kirishima held up a sweet. “You’re eating candy; that makes you too sweet to resist!”

Back into the hood Amajiki went. Boundless kindness, he added to the growing list of similarities between his intern best friend and his long-time best friend. Though the sentiment was silly and impractical, it did make Amajiki feel better. Deep, deep down, he knew rather than hoped that Togata would accept his romantic affection as he’d accepted all the other parts of him that had bloomed since their childhood. But there was always that doubt. The ifs and what ifs. The at leasts. How Togata would be kind in his rejection and keep being Amajiki’s friend as though nothing had happened. The clouds in his mind swirled stubbornly, providing ample possible outcomes for this one moment of bravery Amajiki so badly wanted to dive into.

Luckily, Kirishima was stubborn, too. And he knew, also from experience, that it was easier to escape the grasp of low thoughts while wearing the shield of a smile, especially when others helped to keep that smile beaming. He’d let Amajiki wallow if that’s what he needed, but Kirishima suspected helping him loosen up and relax would be infinitely better for him. So Kirishima reached to throw Amajiki’s cape over the back of his chair to allow him access to lightly tickle the older student’s sides.

Amajiki started at the touch, quickly falling into a giggling fit that kept his cheeks rosy. If he and Kirishima hadn’t been through so much in their short time interning together, Amajiki probably wouldn’t have been comfortable enough to share the source of his anxieties, let alone not launch a full defensive against a tickle attack. That said, it was nice to think about something other than the what ifs, to only focus on where Kirishima’s fingers danced along his stomach and to weakly bat at his hands. It was nice to laugh with someone.

“You’re a kick-ass hero and friend,” Kirishima insisted through chuckles of his own. “Anyone would be lucky to date you, and Togata will know better than anyone what an awesome guy you are. He’s gonna say yes.”

It was also easier to listen to what other people were saying when his own thoughts couldn’t interject. But maybe that logic was due to Amajiki already being on a giggle high. When he eventually did push Kirishima’s hands away (at which Kirishima put up no resistance, letting his hands be easily moved), Amajiki’s warm state of mind remained, as well as the smile on his lips and the giddy heat in his cheeks. He’d had the evening planned out for weeks; he knew what he wanted to say. It would be great.  “Thanks, Kirishima.”

Kirishima patted Amajiki’s shoulder and helped himself to more candy. “Any time. I’ll be eager to hear what he said next time we work together.” He nudged Amajiki’s sight, earning another giggle.

Amajiki pulled his own legs up onto his chair to hug his knees and bury his smile. “Me, too.”

~*~

Taglist:

@kanene-yaaay

@hexalianrebel-blackfeathers

@wordsofa 

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

My take on the Urru

As  @kiwi-strawberry-banana posted about their take on the urru, I decided to write how I see the main ones in my fic Peace Alliance.

urSu

- He wants to do good, but only sees one path before him.

- He is stricter than he needs to be, thinking the urru shouldn't have any temptations at being happy as urru. Hence their monastic ways.

- Darkening seems to not affect him.

- Used to be more open.

urSol

- Where all of SilSol's nerdery went, including his love for LARPing.

- Talks constantly, humms as often. Hates silence.

- Is the Jack Sparrow of the urru, a rogue but damn if he is not charming as all hell.

- As such, sees most laws as things to break. Is a bit kleptomanic.

- The Valley made him a wee bit stir crazy.

- Dropped urSu like a hot potato once he figured urSu was hiding something.

- Despite his cheer, he is as willing to play dirty pool as skekSil. Only no one quite knows it.

- Wants an adventure and wants to live his best life. Hence him joining the Alliance.

- Sees skekSil as his emo little brother.

urUtt

-Shy, sensitive and likes bright colours. Utt just wants to make beautiful clothes.

- Both ears are torn short. He got attacked by a pack of whoufs during a supply run. Hides them in his hair 90% of the time.

- Chafed under urSu's rules, though not as much as urAmaj. Utt wants to design something more than just the urru monk-robes.

- Him not cutting anything is almost a meme between him and Ekt.

- Sees skekEkt as his wilder twin brother.

- Despite his shyness, was selfish enough to follow urSol and urAmaj out of the Valley.

urAmaj

- FUCK, THE, GRUEL.

- Gordon Ramsay in urru form.

- Is a bit grumpy and bitter, but very nice once you get close to him.

- A skilled survival chef, mainly due to his surroundings.

- Actually wants to move to the Castle of the Crystal to cook some proper food.

-Laconic and sardonic, knows that urSol is full of shit.

- Gets along with skekAyuk frighteningly well. Like Utt, Amaj sees his skeksis as his twin more than his other half.

urZah

- Masochistic in a ritualistic way. Seeks enlightement through pain.

- Ironically, so does skekZok. As such, both have matching ritual scars and both work together to create intricate patterns.

- Squished nose, no sense of smell OR taste.

[anythingtrxsh]

Hey!! Your blog is so amaJINg, really a whole library of taekookfics. I would like to ask if there are any fics with some good deeply rooted plots or some action?

hey, @justrandomsthings well i can only think of a handful of fics with a deeply rooted plot and action so i’ll try my best to remember them, and put them here! 

Chemistry [200k] by taecheeks {tutor au-- i love love love this one}

walls gold-plated (but the room feels like you) [114k] by thruspring {escort au-- not @ jungkook trying to do that thing - that i cant talk about bc its a spoiler - in a bright ass red sports car #foolsplan}

maybe i'm fine with being by myself [88k] by misanthrpic {time travel au-- this shit angsty so beware}

Mileage May Vary [80k] by rix {stipper au-- queen of bottom guk and thats IT}

(thought you knew) you were in this song [35k] by expplipo {soulmate au-- biggest fucking plot twist. and no, i am still not over it}

happy reading!!

[nadiarizavi]

a different definition of stars- chapter 1: blue, a color, a feeling

@planceminibang​ SUMMARY: 

Lance McClain was born for the spotlight. But after a surprise scandal, his mom gets worried that the fame’s starting to get to his head-- and Lance gets shipped off to live with his brother Luis and his family in the countryside town of Garrison, in the middle of Altea County, population barely breaching a thousand. In a new place where no one knows his name, Lance should be grateful to have a break from the lights and cameras-- but being a farmhand isn’t the life of glitz and glamour he was used to. And it’s definitely no picnic when the girl next door has blackmail on you.

RATED: T, TAGS: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Minor Injuries, Cows, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Car Accidents, minor kallura

CHAPTER ONE ON AO3!

A/N: huge thank u to the mods !!! huge love to @zoedozy for making SUPER LOVELY ART that’ll be shared soon !! the fic is below the cut or you can read it on ao3! <3

Slap.

Lance withdrew his legs with a hiss, turning to the driver--his sister in law, Lisa-- who by now had turned her eyes back to the road, a satisfied smile on her face.

“The hell was that for?!”

“I told you four times to get your feet off the dash, Lance.”

Lance gestured to the dash, then at her. “It’s--look! I didn’t leave a mark!”

“And you’re adorable if you think that attitude’s gonna fly here.”

“Attitude--?”

“Lance.”

He slumped back into his seat, the dirt road causing the truck to bump and jostle along as it did. His eyes wandered back out the window-- miles and miles of grass and trees, cattle, hazy purple mountains in the far off distance. Not another car for miles. No music played on the radio--white noise. An unrelated buzz--Lisa told him that it was cicadas in the late summer--hummed in the air, and the sun was high in the afternoon sky. Cloudless. An infinite blanket of blue.

“How’s Veronica?”

Lisa was asking him questions again. Lance looked down at his shirt, tugging at a loose string, brows furrowed. How’s Veronica?

Mad at him. 

Well, he couldn’t blame V for being mad at him. He was still trying to ice the burn from his parents being mad at him too.

He heard the shutter of a secret camera click in his ear, and Lance planted his forehead against the window.

“She’s fine.”

“Mami told me she didn’t come to send you off.”

“Busy at work. She has a life too, yanno. Outside of being my babysitter,” he grumbled. They drove past one, two cows. He should add on to that. “Sorry you got stuck with babysitting, by the way.”

“You’re family.” A pause. She was thinking of something to add on, too. “We want to take care of you too, Lance.”

The cicadas buzzed on.

--

Nadia and Sylvio were his next assailants-- running down the porch steps of a wooden, white ranch house at full speed, down the dirt driveway, and into his arms. He only ever saw the kids when the family came to Hollywood for the holidays, for summer vacation. They wore wide smiles, their teeth bright white, Nadia’s dark hair braided down her back, Sylvio’s hands were dried with mud. Lance couldn’t help but laugh.

Despite the circumstances, he could never resent seeing his favorite niece and nephew.

“You guys keep getting bigger. Stop eating your vegetables.” Lance said, bending his knees for Sylvio to wrap his thin arms around his neck, lifting him into a piggyback ride while Nadia skipped alongside them.

“Do actors need to eat their vegetables?” Nadia asked, a curious twinkle in her eye. She wanted to be just like her uncle Lance, she had said at Christmas the last year. Just like him.

For the moment, the reminder made his stomach twist in knots.

“Well, kinda.”

“Then I won’t stop.”

Sylvio wriggled against his spine, chirping directly into Lance’s ear. “Me too! I won’t stop, too!”

That made him laugh, the knot undoing itself for the thirtieth time that day, and he let the boy down as soon as the porch steps came to view. It was a big porch. It was a big house. Stark white, freshly painted. An oasis in the middle of a lifeless world. Lisa whistled for him, back down the driveway.

“Lance, you don’t seriously expect your pregnant aunt to get your bags, do you?”

Lance bolted back down, ignoring the sting in his chest when he reached the truck and looked down to his shoes; once pristine, white, now dusted. Lisa gave him a curious glance as she handed him his duffle.

“What’s wrong?”

“My shoes.”

And then she rolled her eyes, dropping the duffle into his arms. “You’ve got money. Buy new ones. Probably something better suited for the farm.”

He followed her dejectly--her and his rolling suitcase--back up the driveway, feeling perspiration on his forehead, in his hair. The late afternoon was hot, the sun oppressive against his neck. Sunscreen. That was definitely first priority once he’s settled in.

The air inside the house was cool and inviting, a welcome reprieve from the hot summer sun. The kids followed their mother and Lance like ducklings up the stairs, into the spare bedroom, inspecting Lance as if he were a new toy.

In a way he kind of was. All city and no country on him. He was dressed for first class travel, not for the dirt roads and cattle and buzzing cicadas.

The bedsheets were a shade of wet soil and smelled faintly the same. The lacy curtains were open, and he could get another view of miles of grass and purple mountains and an infinite sky. The wallpaper-- blue, white, floral--right out of a homestead decor magazine. There was a desk and a closet, empty save for boxes labeled ‘WINTER COATS’ and ‘XMAS DECOR.’ Lance dropped his duffle on the bed, watching the dust float up and catch in the light. Sylvio and Nadia set to inspecting the room itself, and Lisa let out a content sigh as she looked around. She threw him a smile.

“Nothing like Beverly Hills?”

“Don’t see an infinity pool out there,” Lance said, hoping he sounded funny. Please think I’m being funny, Lis.

She outstretched a hand to him, adjusting the sleeve of his shirt, following his gaze out the window to the sky and the mountains and the grass. “You don’t need a pool to see infinity out here, mijo.”

She started out the door again. “Let’s get the rest of your bags and get you settled in, right? Sylvio, Nadia, can you two go check on the chicken coop?”

The two were glad to oblige, racing down the stairs in fits of laughter, and Lance could only follow Lisa, dumbstruck, hand out to help her if she needed a hand down the steps. “You guys got chickens here too?”

She laughed, throaty and warm. “You’ll get to meet them tomorrow, I hope. I don’t know what Luis wants you to do yet.”

“Probably wrangle a cow.”

“We don’t wrangle anything here. You’re a farmer now, not a bull rider,” Lisa let out a breath, looping her arm through his as they left the cool air of the farmhouse and started back down the driveway, kicking up dirt as they walked. She was quiet, until they were back to the car, back to the luggage Lance toted from sunny California. “Your mama didn’t tell us everything, you know.”

Lance bit his lip, hoisting his luggage out of the truck bed and onto the road. “You can probably just google it.”

“I’d rather hear it from you, Lance. Not the tabloids.”

That was reassuring, considering his parents and Veronica preferred to read the tabloids.

He looked Lisa in the eye, and the knot in his chest twisted itself right back up. Lance wondered if there was a chance he could get an Eagle Scout badge for his impressive knotting skills in the last month, because this was one hell of a situation to be tied up in. And, hell, no sense beating around the bush with her.

“Uh, it was a DUI.”

Her expression fell.

“Lance…”

He remembered his luggage, one hand reaching for it, the other gesturing at Lisa. “No, no. I, uh, I don’t want you to say anything. It was my fault.” 

She was still looking at him with a furrowed brow. Pity. Worry. Other emotions he wished he couldn’t see, couldn’t understand. “No one was hurt. Just me,” was tacked on quickly, almost too quickly.

She picked up the other luggage, and she squeezed his arm again, but pulled away quicker. “No, yeah, of course. You got lucky.”

There was ice in her words, and Lance could taste bile. His free hand went subconsciously into his hair, eyes back up at the sky, tracing the bumps and grooves of a healing, stitched wound, the sweat on his hands sliding against the sweat in his hair, and the infinity of blue began to break up and crack like a shattered windshield.

Lance closed his eyes.

He got lucky.

--

His first task was dishes, drying as Lisa washed, and the sound of a car honk outside and the ecstatic shouts of his niece and nephew almost made him screw it up. He sat the plate down on the counter, giving Lisa a wild look. She snorted.

“Luis is home.”

“Where’s he even been all day?”

“Hey, farm work is more than just staying on the farm.” She dried her hands, following the kids outside, and Lance could hear them chatter, hear his name be shouted in excitement by Sylvio. He shuffled along, tail between his legs; the nerves, the anxiety building back up again as he peered through the screen door. There was Luis, and a dog, and the door swung open. Lance stumbled back. The stranger just raised her brows.

“Oh. My bad.”

Lance peered down at her. She wore her hair pulled back under a baseball cap, eyes behind large, round glasses. She was dressed for work, dusty denim jeans and a loose tee covered in suspicious red stains, and in her arms was a crate full of mason jars labeled by fruit (and Lance’s suspicion of the stains dissipated). She looked around his age, maybe younger. Her amber-toned eyes eyed him curiously, and Lance wondered for a moment if she recognized him. They had television here in the middle of nowhere, didn’t they? She had to know who he was. Maybe she’s starstruck.

Her curiosity quickly turned to annoyance.

“Can you… please move?”

Right. He was blocking her path. Lance obliged.

“Sorry. Uh. Hey, I’m Lance.”

He followed her into the kitchen as she set the crate down, setting to unboxing the jars, reading the labels, organizing them by fruit on the counter. Lance watched her for a minute, listening to the sound of glass tinkle. He had about a thousand questions. Many revolving around the stranger in his uncle’s kitchen unboxing fruit preserves like her life depended on it.

“I’m Lance.” He said again, louder, hoping her silence was just because she didn’t hear him. “I’m, uh, Luis’s little brother.”

“Uh-huh.”

Silence. She picked up the now-emptied crate, turning around to face him. Nothing. No reaction, not even a little one. Lance blinked at her.

“Lance McClain.”

“Yeah. You’ve told me your name three times already.”

“I… I did.” He did. “And you are…?”

“Not staying.” She brushed past him, and Lance stared after her. No way. There was no way. He knew his brother was disconnected, but even Luis watched TV.

“Wait, you don’t… do you watch TV? Ever?”

She stopped, turning around, holding the crate against her hip as she gave him a bewildered stare. “You’re kind of a weirdo, Lance McClain.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

She shifted her footing.

“I do now. Why’s that matter? You’re special or something?”

“Yes. Wait, no.”

She raised a brow again, and maybe he was imagining the amused twinkle in her eyes. “O-kay. See ya around, Lance.”

Good brother manners told him to follow the girl back out, greet his uncle. But at the moment, Lance was having a reality check.

Out in the middle of farmer country and the first person he thought would recognize him… didn’t. Was this what a blessing was? Or maybe it was just a blow to his ego. Either way, it was devastating. He peered back out through the screen door, watching the stranger laugh and smile with his brother and Lisa, giving Sylvio and Nadia hugs. And he watched her whistle for the dog, and watched them disappear down the dirt road. He turned toe back towards the kitchen, grabbing the next plate they used for lunch and began to scrub it down, listening for the door to open, for anyone’s voice. It was a relief when the laughter finally carried itself through the foyer, through the kitchen, and Lance felt a calloused hand clap down on his neck.

“What, didn’t want to come say hi?” Luis pulled him into a half-hug, and Lance splashed dish water, a laugh escaping him.

“I wanted to finish these, man.”

“Dishes! I thought Mami was making up urban legends when she said you still knew how to do these.”

“Dickhead.”

Luis laughed, setting to drying Lance’s dishes, his eyes wandering to the jars stacked up neatly on the counter. “You met Katie, at least?”

“Was that the girl?”

“Isn’t she great? Smartest girl we know.” He gestured around the house. “Set up the wifi and TV and even fixed the truck last spring with her mechanic buddy. Complete wonder girl.”

“What the hell? She set up your cable and she apparently has no idea who I am.”

Luis slowed his motion with the dish towel, rolling his eyes. “You can’t be serious. You’ve barely been here a day and you have expectations.”

“It’d be like if you didn’t know who Leonardo DiCaprio was.”

“Leo is an international icon and you’re on a daytime drama. Perspective.”

Lance took a step back, eyes on the preserve jars. “It was just… weird.”

Luis glanced at him, smiling. “A good or bad weird?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, get used to it. Mami sent you over here because she knew you’d be out of the spotlight while this whole thing simmers down.”

He winced, involuntary, leaning back against the counter. Simmer down. That’s all this was, right? The press will stop seeking him out and some other celebrity will do something equally or more insane, and Lance and his car wrapped around a pole would be old news. Simmered down. Cooked and salted and chowed down and passed right through and the next meal comes along and the cycle repeats itself in a vicious self-sabotage.

It didn’t sit well with him, suddenly. A headache spiked where his skull had split opened and flowered, however many salted and simmered days ago. The bile came back.

“Yeah, when this all simmers down.” Lance said, a little too loud, and he faked a yawn. “Anyways, I’m beat. Jet lag and shit. When should I set my alarm?”

“I’ll cut you some slack. Seven A.M. sound good?”

“Good god, no.”

Luis threw him a well meaning smile. “Let me or Lisa know if you need anything, okay?”

“How about building a luxury pool and spa in the backyard?”

“Anything but that.”

They laughed together, shoving and shoulder-checking, and Luis followed Lance as far as the stairs, a grin on his face, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes.

“Make sure you stay knocked the hell out, because you’re going to need all the sleep you can get. You’re on farm time, now.”

Lance shuddered hard, overdramatic. “That’s scary shit, Lu. Love you. Goodnight.”

He bounded up the stairs a little too fast, sinking down into his four-post bed, onto a blanket of soil and stared up at a dark ceiling. The buzzing of cicadas was replaced by the chirps of crickets, and Lance squeezed his eyes shut, rolling onto his stomach. His fingers itched to check his phone, google himself, see if his co-stars were texting him; but he knew better. Now was not the time.

Simmer, simmer down, Lance.

The jet lag caught up to him, eventually, and he breathed in the scent of earth and sky.

[nadiarizavi]

They didn’t talk about it.

It might have been just because they were busy today--it was Vigil Day, after all-- but they didn’t talk about it. Shiro called Curtis to let him know what happened, and Hunk and Keith told Coran first thing over breakfast. Lance was being dragged this way and that by Alteans to prepare for the broadcast, and Pidge…

Pidge was flushing down a box of cigarettes.

The toilet gurgled in protest on the second flush, and Pidge furrowed her brows at it. “I know they’re fucking disgusting, but one of us has to take them.”

The toilet didn’t answer, only twirling the soaked, crumpled box of cigarettes in the bowl, as if testing her again. One more spin of the chamber, Pidge. Your finger was already on the fucking trigger.

She pushed the flushing mechanism a third time, already resigning herself to the fact that, well, the toilet wasn’t much interested in smoking, either. She almost didn’t notice the mouse crawling up her shoulder, the weight a familiar comfort as it settled into the side of her neck, squeaking curiously in her ear. Pidge sighed, fishing the wet ball of cardboard and filters and tobacco out of the bowl, her lip jutted out, eyes flicking between the wad and the mouse--Chuchule.

“Don’t smoke, okay?” Pidge said calmly, and Chuchule’s whiskers twitched at the request. “It’s bad for mice.”

this fic, and i myself, aren’t dead! thank you for reading. i love you

read on ao3

[nadiarizavi]

“... And we honor those we lost…” Keith tapered off, and his eyes jumped to Lance, and Lance thought, briefly, to leave the man hanging. But despite the thought, Lance couldn’t bring himself to do that. He took the microphone outstretched to him, and he focused on the camera in his face. Not the crowd of Alteans, on tip-toes and holding their own cameras. Just the one.

“Princess Allura,” Lance said, and he flicked his eyes behind him, to her statue, tall and grand and frozen and lifeless. “Without her, who knows what the universe could have been?”

Without her. What it could have been.

How ironic.

He gave the same speech he always did, about Allura. She was kind, and smart, and a leader. She was a friend, family, lover. She was everything. She was why they had a chance. She should be remembered. She had to be remembered.

His eyes trailed to Coran, who stared blankly ahead. And then he found Romelle in the crowd, who gave him an encouraging smile, and Lance worked around the lump in his throat.

READ ON AO3

[nadiarizavi]

“Is your girlfriend coming with us or what?”

Lance stuttered to a stop at the accusation, whipping his head around to glare accusingly at Keith. “Katie’s not my girlfriend.”

“I thought her name was Pidge?” Hunk asked, looking up from absentmindedly scrolling through his instagram feed.

“Nah, it’s Katie.”

Hunk didn’t press for information, which Lance was grateful for. The last thing he needed was more questions, or in Keith’s case, accusations about Katie.

This was a weirdly huge milestone for him.

His best friends meeting his other, newer best friend, who seemed really happy to get an invitation to Lance’s first swim meet of the season. And he was excited, too. He figured he and Katie needed a dose of normalcy, considering that every time they hung out it was like a witch was there prepped and ready to curse them. Not that they hung out regularly, no. The gala was another few weeks in the past, and Lance found himself… busy, after securing a part-time job, clubs and late parties now a distant memory of the past. And Katie only got more and more swamped with studying for all those math classes she was taking. And Lance missed her, a lot. Sure, she texted him every night when she wasn’t busy, but being in the same room as her, absorbing her crooked smile and biting sarcasm was a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever want to lose. And he was walking on air, when she revealed she could make it to the swim meet.

Normalcy was going to be good, he thought, walking away back towards the locker room from the main pool, a slight skip in his step.

on ao3

[nadiarizavi]

At this point, it was just part of the routine to come back to Altea every year. Not that any of them had to be happy about it, of course. And things had a way of falling apart when you spend twenty years not saying the things you should have. The universe no longer needed to be saved. So why did they feel like they still have to save each other?

hi i have to go to work rn but like. i needed this. my entire life revolves around post-canon fix it fics, i swear.

thank you for reading uvu

[nadiarizavi]

Shiro clicked his timer.

“You’re slacking,” he said, writing down the time without elaborating. Pidge wiped the sweat off her forehead, taking a shallow breath. “You do a really bad job of quitting, you know.”

Her nostrils flared at the accusation. “I did quit.”

“We wouldn’t be doing this if you did.” Shiro motioned for Pidge to get back in her starting position, and Pidge obliged, grinding her teeth to keep herself wounded together, not wanting to fall apart in front of Shiro for the second time that morning. Her muscles were burning, her heart thrummed in her chest. The timer went off with another click, and then she was off, feet pounding hard against cobblestone and sand; not an ideal track to run circles around, but better than no track at all.

read on ao3

thank you for reading! xx

[nadiarizavi]

AN: I FELT BAD ABT TAKING LIKE A MONTH TO POST CHAPTER 4 so here’s chapter 5 cuz i’m trying to be fedex and speed deliver. i would appreciate reading the a/n at the end of the chapter! mostly for the song link. i have strong feelings about the song so i’m linking it again right now.

anyways!! thank u for reading!!! hits that dab as i walk out!!

“Okay, how about… legs for fingers, or fingers for legs?”

Katie choked on her soda, putting the cup down to stare hard at Lance. He grinned at her. She contemplated leaving.

“Legs for fingers.” She finally decided, taking another slice of pizza off the tray, aware that it’s gotten cold in the last hour they’ve been sitting here. It was good pizza, when it first came. Now the crust just stuck gummy to the roof of her mouth, but Katie didn’t mind it as long as Lance kept talking.

“That’s exactly what Keith and Hunk said!”

“What? You’d rather have fingers for legs?”

“Well, yeah. I’d get to wear socks. All the time.”

She snorted around the pizza in her mouth, shaking her head. “But you wouldn’t get to wear shoes.”

“Why, you gonna buy ten pairs of itty bitty shoes for you feet fingers?”

“I’d start a business for feet finger shoes. Capitalize on it.”

“That’s evil. I like your style.”

keep reading on AO3!

[nadiarizavi]

ooooh mirror mirror 👀

ASJKJ it’s literally a beauty and the beast fairytale AU and is the most self indulgent fic i’ve ever set my sights on... i am going to do whatever i want with the transformation fairy tale concept and run like hell! so pidge is naturally in the role of the bookish/hardworking protag non-princess who has to save her dad and brother from the clutches of the rumored monster living in the castle out in the country and trades her life for theirs.... prince lance is cursed to be a beast (per the witch’s terms) and pidge, being “nice,” is going to try help break the curse with..... science. but things go wrong and katie finds herself in a predicament she never saw coming.

it’s rly fun to write :3c. preview !:

Katie held out her hands. “Let’s strike a deal, your highness. I figure out your little curse problem, you rip up the contract and I get out twenty years early.”

Lance raised a brow, scratching at his chin with a lengthy, sharp claw, glistening in the low candle light. She tried to hold in her shudder at the sight of it.

“I don’t see how you could break the curse. I’ve been trying to break it for years with absolutely zero luck.”

“Well, you weren’t using science,” said Katie, matter-of-factly. Lance continued to stare at her.

“You’re going to break an old hag’s curse… with… science.”

“Oh, I see! You don’t think I can pull it off.”

“You wanna know what I think?”

Katie nodded, leaning across the table. The beast leaned closer too, the wood creaking under his great weight as his snout came short of Katie’s face, his voice a whisper.

“I think you’re going to get annoying fast. Consider the contract ripped up.”

[nadiarizavi]

HELLO!!!! i just got back from vacationing and i didn’t realize we could post the pieces we did for @pidgeshipzine !!! i had an absolute blast writing this fic, and i’m delighted to finally, finally share it with you guys ;w;!!! pls also check out the blog for all the other amazing pieces by so many talented artists and writers guys huuu <333

FIC SUM:

Student council elections are right around the corner, and of course Pidge had to be running against one of her best friends. And of course, he had to be obnoxious about it. And, well, of course, things were bound to get messy. All's fair in love and high school politics. 

He was unbelievable.

Pidge maneuvered her way around the colliding smells of body spray and warm vanilla scented lotion that spread throughout the McClain household. This was a cheap move. Lance probably--no, definitely -- knew it was a cheap move, because that was the exact kind of slimy high school politician he was.

“Pidge! You made it!”

He waved her over from his spot in the kitchen, where he stood refilling bowls of chips. She beelined her way towards him, a furrow in her brow, anger balling in her fists. Lance gave her a grin, casual, conniving. Despicable. “How ya liking the party?”

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

READ ON AO3!

[nadiarizavi]

right is this the part where i announce i’m back on my bullshit

[nadiarizavi]

i pick toss-up for the WIP meme!! (also your fics are always so wonderfully creative and also good luck with the rest of the semester!!)

aww thank u so much ;_;!!! i am pushing through... one more month and i am free to go ham with whatever i so please so yanno.. let’s get this bread B”)

but! toss up is my salad hallura one shot that has been pretty much done for months now but every time i go to post it i chicken out so until i get the courage..... i can defs share a preview cuz i’ve been wanting to share for FOREVER so this is my CHANCE

“Okay,” Lance finally said. “We won’t push it.”

“Thank you.” Hunk said, an appreciative smile forming on his face while the what-ifs nagged and nagged at the back of his mind.

“We just want you to know that we love you, and we want you to be happy. And--oh. Oh, hey!”

Lance stuck his hands up, waving them wildly around in the wide library space. “Allura!”

“Allura?” Hunk inquired, and Lance grinned.

“She’s my chem lab partner and works with Pidge at the radio station. And also did I mention she’s amazing?”

Pidge interjected. “I’m surprised we haven’t hung out with her before. Like, altogether.”

“It’s cause Hunk doesn’t come to date night.”

She nodded sagely. “Proof that you should actually show up to date night when we invite you.”

“Oh my god, stop calling it date night if you’re inviting people to hang out with you two.”

“Lance, Pidge! Hi,” came the voice of the elusive Allura.

It was at this precise moment that Hunk’s blood ran cold. A pretty girl. A girl with soft coils of silver hair, smiling bright as she came up to the table to greet her friends. Her top was pressed, crisp. Put together, sharp were good ways to describe her.

And he knew her, of course. It came with a rush, as Hunk realized he knew Allura. She had a face that was difficult to forget.