#so yeah... network meddling

[eat-a-dicker]

could courtney and duncan have worked it out? not on that fucking show

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8 - ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇɴᴛ

Summary: You met a new girl at a university event, immediately drawn in by her friendly, outgoing nature. Before you knew it, she invited you to a small party where she hinted you could make some valuable connections. Little did you realize, networking with a biker gang wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for boosting your CV.

tags: Laws Ex, your first little argument with Law, Kid and Killer cameo

a.n.: I've a soft spot for Kid and Killer.

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

"Do you really want to go to this?" Law grumbled, his voice tinged with irritation as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He never had patience for events like these—listening to famous doctors drone on with the same recycled speeches about how med students were the future, how they were going to change the world. It was all so cliché to him.

But you, with a wide, enthusiastic grin, nodded. You would’ve loved it if Law joined you, but you knew better than to push him. He was clearly not in the mood. The fact that he was walking you to the lecture hall was already enough for you.

"Alright, fine," he sighed, his tone softening slightly. "If the guy actually says something useful, let me know." His irritated expression shifted into a familiar, amused grin.

"I will, but you’re missing out," you teased, knowing full well that Law wasn’t about to change his mind.

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Yeah, huge loss," he said as sarcasm was dripping with every word. "Anyway, I’m gonna hit the library. Text me when you’re done, alright?" With that, he reached over and gave your cheek a quick, playful squeeze. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture—it wasn’t like Law to show affection in public. And, well… you two weren’t officially together yet. “Dating” was probably a more fitting term. You met up regularly, switched from texting to phone calls—since he was terrible at texting—and usually ended up spending the night together.

"Will do. See ya," you said, giving him a smile before turning to enter the lecture hall.

As Law made his own way to the library, neither of you noticed the young woman standing off to the side, her gaze lingering on your exchange with something close to resentment. Once Law was out of sight, she slipped inside the lecture hall, her eyes scanning the room until she found you.

It was already filling up with students taking their seats and chatting quietly as they waited for the presentation to start. The woman’s eyes narrowed as she spotted an empty spot next to you. She approached with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Hey, is this seat taken?" she asked, her voice sugary sweet.

You looked up from your bag, mid-rummage, and smiled politely back. "No, go ahead."

She sat down, her icy blue eyes locking onto yours as she introduced herself. "I’m Yuki, by the way."

"Y/N," you replied with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you."

Yuki’s smile didn’t waver, though internally she bristled.

She could’ve ripped that smile off your stupid face.

"Haven’t seen you around here before," she remarked casually, pulling out her iPad.

You shrugged, letting out a small chuckle. "I tend to keep to myself. No offense to everyone in our program, but I’ve already got my little friend group."

It was true, but the words came out sounding very much like something Law would say. And Yuki hated you for it. She knew all too well there was something going on between you two—she’d seen the way you interacted, the way he looked at you. And it drove her crazy. In her mind, Law leaving her had been a mistake, and his friends were to blame, always meddling in his life. He was happier with her. He had been, at least—that’s what she told herself.

But for now, she kept up the pleasant facade. After all, what was the saying? Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

And you, in her eyes, were most definitely the enemy.

Yuki had done an excellent job masking her true feelings. To you, she seemed perfectly nice—friendly, even—and you didn’t mind her keeping you company during the dull wait for the presentation to start.

“By the way, you heard of this awesome party next week?” she asked casually, glancing at you. The question caught you off guard, and you blinked at her, puzzled.

“No, not really,” you said, shaking your head.

Yuki’s eyes widened, feigning surprise. “Really? You should definitely come, a lot of med students are there too, its great to make connections as well.”

You were a bit taken aback by her friendliness and the sudden offer, thinking about it. You didn’t knew her, yet she seemed pretty nice. You barley attended those kind of party, usually you just took part of a good old house party you friends threw occasionally. Building some connections for later on didn’t sound too bad either.

“Sure why not,” you replied with a smile.

Without hesitation, Yuki pulled out her phone, and the two of you quickly exchanged numbers.

As you saved her contact, Yuki mentally applauded your naïveté, her smile growing just a little sharper.

The event began soon after, and the two of you fell into silence, listening to the speaker drone on about the future of medicine and the importance of innovation. At first, it was engaging, but after a while, your attention started to fade. Law had been right—this was a snoozefest. You sighed quietly, trying to suppress a yawn as the presenter rambled on, his speech feeling more and more empty with each passing minute.

When it finally ended, you felt drained, like the life had been sucked out of you.

“God, that was a waste of time,” you mumbled under your breath as you started packing up your things.

Yuki chuckled beside you, though she was already hurriedly gathering her belongings. She seemed almost nervous, moving with more urgency than the situation warranted. She didn't want to risk bumping into Law.

“Yeah, total waste… Anyway, I’ve gotta run and catch the bus. You’ll hear from me soon, alright?”

You blinked, surprised by her sudden rush. She was already standing, ready to bolt, her polite smile looking a bit forced. “Uh, sure,” you said, still sitting, unsure of what had sparked her sudden haste.

Yuki flashed you a quick smile before darting down the stairs, moving as if she couldn’t get out of the lecture hall fast enough. You watched her disappear, frowning slightly. Weird, you thought, shrugging it off as you took your time gathering your own things.

As you exited the hall, Law was already waiting outside, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. You felt a wave of relief.

"How was it?" Law asked, eyebrow raised, already suspecting your answer.

“Terrible,” you sighed, falling into step with him.

"Told you."

As you walked, Yuki’s sudden departure lingered in your mind. Something about it didn’t sit right, but you shook the feeling off. After all, she seemed nice… right?

Yuki still lingered in your mind days later, especially after she followed you on Instagram so quickly. How had she even found your profile? You shrugged it off, not wanting to overthink it. Maybe she was just really enthusiastic about the party today. Who knew?

“You’ve been glued to your phone a lot lately,” he commented, glancing at you over the rim of his cup before setting it down. He’d noticed your recent surge in texting but hadn’t asked until now. What he didn’t know was that it was his Ex  you were messaging.

"Ah, sorry," you said, locking your screen and sliding the phone aside. "I met this girl at that lecture the other day. She invited me to the med party I told you about."

Law’s reaction was immediate—a groan of disapproval as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You still want to go? Seriously, don’t waste your time.”

“What? Why not?” you asked, frowning, unsure why he seemed so against the idea.

He shrugged, eyes rolling as if it was obvious. "It’s just a bunch of future doctors jerking themselves off and getting trashed. Ego trips everywhere.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his bluntness. "Yeah, but I could use the connections, right? Networking is kind of important."

Law’s eyes narrowed slightly, his skepticism clear. “If you’re a good doctor, you don’t need to rely on that.”

You scoffed, half-amused and half-annoyed now. “Easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I-grew-up-in-a-hospital.’ You’ve had all the connections handed to you since day one.”

Law’s expression hardened, clearly irritated now. “Are we seriously doing this again? You gotta stop bringing that up.”

You knew it was a sore spot for him, but you were frustrated too. Law had connections, mentors, resources—you had none of that. To you, this med party was more than just an excuse to drink; it was a way to get ahead, to build relationships that might help you down the line. But Law didn’t seem to get that.

“You don’t understand,” you muttered, standing up abruptly. “I don’t have what you have, Law. I have to work for this.”

“I never said you didn’t,” he shot back, a little harsher than he meant. “But I’m telling you, these things are just ego-fests. Don’t expect anything real to come out of it.”

“Well, I’m going,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

Law sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could tell you were annoyed, but he wasn’t about to start a fight over something so trivial. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

His dismissiveness stung, and the tension between you simmered.

Without another word, you stormed off to your room to get ready, leaving Law at the table. He just sat there, watching you go, now scrolling through his phone with a sigh. The silence between you felt heavier than usual.

“Call me if you need a ride,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, as if he was offering an olive branch.

But you were still too frustrated to take it. “No need,” you shot back sharply, the words colder than you intended.

Law raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting. The tension in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. He scoffed lightly, more out of frustration than anything else, and leaned back in his chair, not wanting to push further. Whatever, if that’s how you wanted it.

As you pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag, you could feel his eyes on you, but neither of you said anything. The silence had stretched too far, and now neither of you knew how to break it.

You left the apartment without another word, both of you too stubborn to fix the crack that had opened between you.

As you made your way to the location Yuki had sent you, an uneasy feeling began to gnaw at your gut. The place she directed you to didn’t scream “meds party”—it looked more like an abandoned building, graffiti covering the cracked walls. A bunch of motorcycles were parked haphazardly outside, while a few guys leaned against them, already looking wasted, bottles in hand.

You hesitated, your heart starting to race as you dialed Yuki’s number quickly. The longer you stood there, the worse this felt.

“Hey, uhm… are you sure this is the right place?” you asked when she picked up, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

“Yeah, for sure! I’m running a little late, but go on inside! It’s chill, I promise. Have some fun till I get there, okay? See ya soon!” Yuki’s voice was cheerful, almost too carefree for the vibe you were getting.

“Wait, Yuki—” You started, but she hung up before you could finish. You sighed, staring at your phone. Great.

With a deep breath, you glanced back at the house. It felt off—so wrong in every way. But maybe you were just overthinking it? After all, Yuki had seemed so genuine.

You approached cautiously, feeling eyes from the people outside follow you as you neared the door. A group of guys laughed loudly, one of them muttering something under his breath as you passed. The heavy thrum of music seeped out from inside, as you pushed the door open.

The lighting was dim, shadows stretching across the room as heavy metal blared from old speakers. Your heart hammered in your chest, every instinct screaming at you to leave. This wasn’t right. You scanned the room quickly, searching for any familiar faces what so ever. Nothing. Just strangers—rough-looking strangers.

You turned back, ready to leave and forget this whole thing, but before you could reach the door, a large hand slammed it shut. Slowly you faced the person behind you, to find a tall, muscular guy blocking your way. His wild red hair and the predatory grin on his lips gave you goosebumps, not to mention his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Look what we got here…” he drawled, leaning in closer. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and you took a step back, trying to put some distance between you.

“Uh, sorry. Got the wrong party,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as you reached for the door handle. But he didn’t move. If anything, his grin widened.

“Wrong party?” he laughed, his voice carrying over the music. “Hey, Killer, this chick says she’s at the wrong party!”

From another room, a man with long, messy blond hair appeared, just as broad and intimidating as the redhead. His blue eyes gleamed with amusement, and his high-pitched, manic laugh only made your stomach drop further. The name didn’t help either.

“Cmon Kid, let her go. You are scaring her.”  the blond said, stepping closer and crossing his arms, his biceps flexing as he loomed over you.

Your pulse spiked as your back hit the door. You glanced between them, heart racing. “I don’t want any trouble. I think I got the wrong address,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though fear was clawing at your throat.

The redhead, apparently named Kid, laughed again. “You? Trouble?” He eyed you again and let out an amused laugh. “Doubt that princess. But you know, it’s pretty rude not to stay for at least one drink.” It wasn’t hard to see the challenge behind his words, a challenge you denied with a frantic head shake.

“Leave it Kid,” Killer chuckled, though there was no warmth in his voice. He stepped even closer, blocking off any hope of an exit.

You swallowed hard, every instinct telling you to run, but you were trapped between them. Your fingers itched for your phone, to call Law or anyone for help. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding anymore—it was dangerous.

“I—really—I’m just trying to leave,” you managed to say, your voice tighter now, laced with panic. Your eyes darted toward the door, but Kid’s massive hand stayed firmly in place, keeping it shut.

Suddenly, the blond man’s grabbed Kid’s wrist, his gaze unreadable. “Seriously, enough man,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of authority. Kid shot him an irritated look but released his hold on the doorframe, muttering, “Asshole,” under his breath before losing interest entirely and wandering off into the chaos of the party.

You finally exhaled, your chest tight from holding your breath. Relief washed over you, but your heart was still racing as you looked up at the blond man. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, his tone casual as if the whole thing was no big deal. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here before someone else wants a piece of you.”

His nonchalance was unsettling, but you didn’t argue. You simply nodded and followed him as he opened the door, walking you outside. The moment you stepped back into the night air, you felt the weight lift off your shoulders every so slightly. The people outside, who had been eyeing you earlier, now ignored you completely, probably because Killer was body guarding you.

Standing on the sidewalk, you fumbled with your phone, trying to call Law. Your hands were still shaking, and you kept glancing around nervously, as if expecting someone to jump out at you. When the call finally connected, Law’s sharp voice cut through the line.

“What?”

His tone was icy, and the sudden harshness made your throat tighten, words sticking in your mouth. You stood there frozen, feeling even more vulnerable. The blond man watched you silently for a moment before sighing, taking the phone from your trembling hands.

“Yo,” he greeted, his voice steady but neutral.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Law’s tone darkened. “Who the fuck is this?”

The blond raised an eyebrow at the intensity in Law’s voice but stayed calm. “Chill, man. Pick up your girlfriend. She’s at the wrong party.”

There was a pause, and Killer could practically feel the tension building on Law’s end. “What do you mean wrong party?” he snapped.

Killer glanced at you, then back at the phone. “No clue. She just showed up here, freaked out, said something about wrong address. Anyway, come get her. This ain’t her scene.”

Law’s voice was clipped but calmer now, sensing the urgency. “Give me ten. Send me the location.”

Killer sighed again as he handed the phone back to you. His expression was unreadable, though, there was almost a hint of pity in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure whether you were trembling from shock or the cold.

“He’ll be here soon. You’re out of this,” he said, his voice calm, almost reassuring. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Killer stayed with you outside, his presence both comforting and unsettling. He wasn’t saying much, but it was clear he didn’t want to leave you alone with the lingering partygoers. You found yourself wondering what kind of people they were—what kind of place this was—that even he felt the need to stick around and make sure you were safe. The air was thick with tension, and every noise from the party made your heart jump.

When you finally heard the familiar low rumble of Law’s motorcycle in the distance, your eyes snapped up. As he pulled up to the curb, he cut the engine and took off his helmet, his eyes immediately locking onto you. The sight clearly unsettled him, and you could almost see the curse forming on his lips, blaming your new friend for the whole drama.

Killer slid his hands into his pockets, offering Law a brief nod. “Nice machine,” he commented, glancing at Law’s motorcycle.

Law’s gaze was distant, focused on you but acknowledging Killer’s presence with the barest of nods. “Thanks for looking out for her,” he finally said, his voice tight as he passed the second helmet to you.

You didn’t waste any time, quickly taking the helmet and climbing onto the back of Law’s bike, your hands trembling as you secured it on.  

Killer shrugged at Law’s thanks, watching as he started the engine and the two of you sped off into the night.

During the ride, Law could feel how tightly you held onto him—tighter than usual. There was no need for words. The brief argument the two of you had earlier seemed irrelevant now. All that mattered was getting you home safe.

"What do you mean, she was sure it was the right address?" Law asked, his voice tight with concern.

Back at home, you were curled up next to Law on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea warming your hands. Law sat beside you, his brows furrowed, filled with worry. You shrugged and sniffled, your eyes still glassy from the overwhelming emotions.

"I-I don’t know," you mumbled. "Yuki said it was the place..."

"Yuki?" Law interrupted, his entire posture shifting. At the mention of the name, tension rippled through him, his muscles tightening like he was bracing for something.

You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden change. "Y-Yeah...?" you replied, voice trembling, eyes red and filled with sadness. Seeing you like this—so hurt, so vulnerable—shattered something inside him.

Law's heart ached, but his mind raced. He had a sinking suspicion about what was going on. Could it really be her?

“D-Do you know her or something?"

He hesitated. How could he explain? If Yuki was involved—if it was the Yuki he thought it was—this was even more twisted than he'd imagined. It wasn’t just a biker gang party you'd been lured into; it could have been intentional.

Law wanted to be absolutely sure he wasn’t unfairly blaming some random girl with the same name. His gut told him something was off, but he needed proof. "Do you have anything on her? A profile picture, social media... anything?"

You nodded and unlocked your phone. Law leaned in, his expression tense as he focused on the screen.

After a moment of heavy silence, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N... That's my Ex."

"H-Huh?" you blinked at him, still sniffling, confusion clouding your face. The way you looked at him—like a lost, hurt puppy—made his heart ache. He didn’t want to pile this on top of everything else, but you deserved to know the truth. None of this was your fault.

"She’s... not stable," Law admitted, his voice low and strained. He shifted closer to you, gently reaching for your hand. "I think she did this on purpose..."

You tightened your grip on his hand, slowly processing what he was telling you. At first, your face was unreadable. Intentional? Laws Ex lured you intentionally, to a biker gang?

Flicker of something darker crossed your expression.

It was anger.

"Wait... so this bitch" you sniffed one last time and pointed at you phone, her profile still visible "sent me to some disgusting biker gang party because she’s still obsessed with you?" Your voice rose, sharp with frustration. Was it your possessiveness over Law? The humiliation of being tricked? Or the sheer outrage at the danger you'd been put in? You weren’t sure, but it boiled up inside you, igniting a fire you couldn’t contain.

You had even fought with Law before you left that night, all because of Yuki’s twisted lie.

Law watched, a bit taken aback as your emotions shifted from sadness to rage. The broken look in your eyes was replaced with pure fury, he’d never seen you like this before.

"I could’ve died, Law! I’m not exaggerating—one of those guys was named Killer!" You clutched his hand so hard now, it almost hurt.

"Y/N, calm down—"

"Calm down?!" you snapped, glaring at him. "Your psycho ex tried to get me killed, and you want me to calm down?! Why do you even stick you dick into crazy?!”

Law was caught off guard, not just by your anger but by your comment. He had heard the same accusations countless times from Shachi and Penguin. Now you, too.

"When did you even meet this... this, this clown?!" you demanded, clearly too furious to come up with a better insult. The heat of the moment had your mind racing so fast, and that made Law smirk just a little. He couldn’t help it—seeing you all riled up and possessive over him was oddly amusing.

"Start of uni," he answered casually. "Didn’t last long though. A year."

"A year?!" you threw your hands up in disbelief. "And she’s still obsessing over you?"

He couldn’t resist grinning, and that only made your frustration spike.

You glared at him, baffled by his amusement. "Why are you smiling like that? You think this is funny?"

Law chuckled. "You’re cute when you’re angry."

"Oh, shut up!" You snatched a pillow from the couch and chucked it at him, but the edge in your voice softened as a small laugh slipped out despite your situation. You were still furious, but the tension in the room had shifted. Knowing this was all part of Yuki’s twisted jealousy was terrifying, but also... it wasn’t your fault. And Law clearly knew how she was. Somehow, that gave you a sense of safety.

At least you weren’t alone in this mess.

"Seriously," you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. "Yuki can piss off. I’ll fight that bitch if I have to—especially after this. She acted all nice and whatnot." You scoffed, but beneath the bravado, you were still seething.

Law sighed, a heavy sound, as he gently started playing with your fingers, his touch grounding himself as if trying to distance his mind from the painful memories of that toxic relationship.

"Yeah... that’s her thing," he admitted quietly.

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, and your anger flared even more. She had done this to Law, too—the person who already struggled to open up to others, who kept his walls high for a reason. The thought of what Yuki had put him through made your blood boil. You didn’t even want to imagine what the final straw had been, or how things ended between them.

The night had already been overwhelming enough. You swallowed those questions, saving them for another time, and took a deep breath. Scooting closer to him, you rested your head on his shoulder, needing the closeness to calm down, all of this was just too exhausting. He leaned into you a little, his body warm and comforting against yours.

"...isn’t what she did illegal?" you mumbled, almost to yourself.

"Can’t prove she lied."

"Shit.”

>>ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9 - ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ɢᴀɴɢ

tag list:@mars-mizuko, @tadomikiku, @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii (Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you 🖤)

[youcouldmakealife]

David, Kiro; ready for your close up, Mr. Ambassador?

For this year's bracket challenge winner, who requested something like Crosby and Mackinnon's Tim Hortons commercials, but with David and Kiro instead.

But of course, because this is David, instead you get a lot of setup as to how exactly we got into this particular scenario. (Kiro to meddle later)

David has never done many endorsement deals. It isn’t that they weren’t offered to him, especially at the beginning of his career — the Islanders may not be the most popular team in New York, but they were still, in Dave’s words, ‘in New fucking York. Yeah, okay, they’re on Long Island. Semantics, David, the market’s the market.’

It wasn’t semantics, not really — the Rangers were New York’s team, then and now, the Islanders relegated to some distant second, New York’s team the way that the Ottawa Senators were Ontario’s, that San Jose was California's.

Still, he had offers. A lot of them. But when he was younger David wanted to focus on hockey and only hockey, worried any distractions would halt his development. His job was to play hockey, not to pretend to be excited about some product he’d never heard of before they called him.

And, frankly, the media David deals with, and the filming he already has to endure for contractual reasons — YouTube videos for his team, soundbites for the TV networks, media day for the league — means that David has no illusions about his acting ability.

So, for the most part, David’s ignored the offers. The money offered is sometimes good, occasionally very good, but he already makes more money than he can spend.

Well, he could easily spend it, but it’s certainly more money than he could responsibly spend, particularly knowing that, sooner rather than later, his career will have to end.

It’s that particular thought, and the accompanying awareness that his endorsement value is only going to decline from this point forward, that has David playing closer attention than usual when Dave mentions that one of the team’s sponsors is interested in filming a TV spot with him.

That isn’t unusual — Dave mentions them often, but they’re more an aside that David’s welcome to ignore. Dave is well aware that David has little interest, but he still conveys the message, mostly, he says, because he gets paid for them too — not as much, obviously, but he does receive a portion of David’s earnings.

To date, David’s only taken him up on one offer. Leapt on it, even though the compensation was negligible compared to other offers, let alone compared to what he made on the ice, but that was because it was Bauer, offering him the chance to, in effect, advertise a stick designed to his specifications. The filming wasn’t too bad either, since it mostly involved him stickhandling for take after take, which wasn’t all that different from practice. Even those have cameras sometimes.

He still uses the stick to this day. It isn’t the only one uses, or even the one he uses most often — it’s a little too fragile, and David grew tired of having to race back to the bench when it snapped yet again, though he did draw more penalties with it — but it’s excellent for the power play.

“It’s a very generous offer,” Dave says. “They have a ‘vision’, they said, and they’re willing to pay a little more to get you specifically.”

“What do you mean?” David asks.

“Let them tell you,” Dave says. “It’s actually a pretty decent idea.”

Dave wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it, and between the money, and David’s curiosity, it’s enough reason to agree to meet with someone from the sponsor. ‘Just a coffee’, they said, but David prepares for — and receives — a pitch instead.

Apparently it’s all Kiro’s fault. The representative doesn’t put it like that, of course, but he does mention that the idea came after someone on their marketing team watched the red carpet interview from the Awards the year David won the Art Ross.

David isn’t sure why that interview’s still online, let alone why anyone would watch it, but it is, and they have, and their marketing team thinks, being that David is from the Canadian capital, plays in Washington, and Kiro joked about him being the Canadian Ambassador to Russia, it would be funny for David to play an ambassador.

“A hockey ambassador,” he says. “You know?”

“I have no experience with diplomacy,” David says. “Or acting, really.”

He’s sure he’d be terrible at it. He’s terrible even at playing himself, according almost every bit of feedback he’s received on NHL media day, and he can't see playing a role going any better.

“You don’t even really need to act,” the sponsor says. “We’re going for diplomatic, you know? Stern but polite. That’s kind of your vibe anyway, isn’t it? We figured that was why Volkov said it.”

“Is that why?” David asks. He genuinely thought Kiro had been joking that David earned honourary Russian status after spending the entire summer with him, Oleg, and Slava, but sometimes Kiro’s jokes can go over his head.

That gets a laugh, and he’s not sure why, but he’s stopped trying to understand at this point, unless it’s someone whose opinion that matters to him, someone he cares about.

“Well,” David says, when time’s up. He still has half his tea, but it’s in a to-go cup, and he thinks he’s heard enough. “I’ll think about it.”

He doesn’t anticipate needing to spend a lot of time on that. The money really is good, but he really does have no shortage of it, and he doesn’t think he’d like to earn money by humiliating himself.

His mistake was mentioning it to Kiro. He should have known Kiro would never let him turn it down.

[not-goldy]

Do you think streaming to prove that BTS is better than the rest as a go to solution is maybe counterproductive sometimes? I was thinking about it but none of the members own the rights to their music. Not even yoongi who wrote and produced under Agust D instead of Suga. Big Hit owns all the rights. Idk I get revenge streaming to make our members do well, especially against another group or artist or company but the issue at hand right now is that there was a paid smear campaign put against yoongi.

This is definitely just a conspiracy theory but someone had to fund out that money. I just remember when Jungkook had that pregnancy rumour happen, Bighit did nothing and army chose to stream to show support, keeping him at number 1. Now I don’t know anything about legal matters so maybe thats how it seemed on the outside but behind closed doors, shit was getting done. But again a hate campaign was put against a BTS member and Hybe is moving silently and army are choosing to chart all of Agust Ds discography and idk. I want his music to chart and get the appreciation it deserves but then I also think about how this company who was silent gets to gain more revenue from his songs charting. So yeah feel free to correct me if this is all bullshit. You just seem smart and observant.

Absolutely 💯

Hence my love hate Relationship with Hybe and Bang PD and corporations in general. They make resources available to these boys but the boys are also a resource to them. The more money and connections they invest into the boys the more money they make and the bigger their network of connections get.

The inverse is also true. However I feel at this stage in their careers they've automated so much and the boys have amassed enough social currency that it doesn't take much investment for them to turn a profit. So sometimes hybe just can't be bothered. Profits are made when you invest little and sell at a higher price.

It's a cash grab economy my dear. Companies are compromising quality and legacy to make a buck. Hybe unfortunately is no different.

When it comes to protecting their artists I feel it comes with the boys giving up greater autonomy in exchange for it. The relationship between hybe and the boys are determined by the content of their contract which is something I keep hammering on.

Hybe is not a charity nor are they parents to the boys. What they do for the boys is not free and the boys have to accept it or even consent to it to begin with. The relationship between them and the boys is pure business and the contract between them sets the LIMITS abd extent of the company's reach into their lives.

Think of it like this,

If hybe is to become BTS's attack dog, what will the boys be willing to do for hybe in exchange for that?? Will they pay hybe more?? And sometimes it's not even what they are willing to do, it's about what they are willing to allow or give up in exchange for such a protection.

A person who has signed off much of their autonomy would of course enjoy more privileges and protection from the company- I'm talking flying first class, staying in 1st class hotels, top notch body guards, assistants, a legal team and hit man on speed dial.

But that means hybe gets to control what they eat who they talk to who they sleep with where there go who they go with where they stay how much sleep they get and all that will cost you more % of their earnings.

Would you go for such a deal if you were in their shoes?

Or would you choose and pick what hybe has to offer in exchange for less control over your life while retaining a bigger percentage of your revenue?? In which case, you book your own flights, pay for your own accommodation when you travel and Sue when you are being attacked personally etc???

Their business relationship with hybe is evolving. The more successful they become the less control they would want hybe to have over them and the less hybe can meddle or intervene in their affairs.

They've literally gone from hybe questioning them over the slightest relationship rumor to saying such matters are their private lives, to now allowing them to sue in their personal capacity🙃

The boys are becoming autonomous over time and I think that's a good thing even if there's a down side to it.

I think hybe will fight for their interests as long as they remain their artists but that would depend on the resources they have and whether or not there is a contractual obligation or interest that needs to be protected.

As long as hybe is interested in them it will protect its interests including them.

I like reading contractual agreements for fun and I would do anything to get my hands on hybe's contract with BTS as a group and as solos.

It's okay to feel some type of way about the company but for now understand they have a mutually beneficial relationship and arrangement with the boys. They profit when the boys are successful but only the boys will suffer if they do not succeed so keep supporting the boys. Focus on their career and trust that they are constantly fighting for their own interests in that dynamic too.

I'm dozing off🥲

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

so wow downfall

There's like a weird... contradiction, right? Because on one hand, like Cassida was like, "am I supposed to understand you or am I supposed to find you inscrutable?"

and thats valid of her

because on one hand, the might of the gods smiting down aeor was championed by how much Better they are than the wizards, how much Power they had compared to mortals, how they are GODS beyond mortal ken

and on the other hand, we see them as squabbling siblings that seem familiar - a family just like ours - with bonds that resemble any bonds on earth, perfectly recognizable and relatable

but i know squabbling siblings, i know messy family relationships, and the idea that i would let any of my more outrageous family members take care of an ant farm - much less reality as a whole - is deeply, deeply frightening

thats a recipe for disaster. mortal-like behavior is fine if the splash zone of consequences are broken homes, broken bonds, broken memories. but if the splash zone is like... reality itself... yeah guys, im gonna need you to lock it the fuck in

with great power comes great responsibility - yeah you know what, i am absolutely going to hold the gods to a higher standard and expect them to behave better than a regular family reunion - why? because the consequences get Fucking Dire if they squabble

im not sure that i understand why people think that portraying gods as mortal like makes them better? like the mortals didnt get a say who the gods were so likewise cant make a say ablut how gods meddle - like... bro nations were formed from wars started on behalf of remote authorities that the soldiers no longer recognized as authorities

no fucking wonder everyone rebelled against the gods. aeor was oppenheimer and hamilton imho.

the Divine Gate makes sense now tho... the gods broke their oaths and theyre going to play fair this once and agree to leave - im with the lawbearer...

theres literally so many myths everywhere about how gods with powers beyond mortal ken, yet acting like mortals, only means strife and destruction

sure it makes for a compelling story but im not convinced that divine power is any better in the gods hands than it would be to a crazy guy like luda - i dont want luda to have that power but neither am i convinced the gods should have it

honestly im team laerryn, lets be fucking neighbors with the gods - oh theyre so fucked up with their family problems? you know what they could use? counseling - you know what they need to get counseling? a bigger support network that doesnt consist only of people they have history with - you know who could easily fill the space of a support network (if only they were seen as more than children)? the mortal world

having the prime deities be dutch ovened into these toxic relationships with the betrayers is also - i gotta say - not fucking great. if the only company that i could keep, with whom i could speak freely, was my extended family, i would go nuts!! if theyre as mortal like as mortals, theyre hurting themselves by having such a closed social ring

laerryn was right - tearing down the divide between mortals and divinity is the only way

[theliterarywolf]

“It's like how I've been seeing people say 'Noooo, Alex Hirsch shouldn't have made that video talking about all the stupid shit he went through with S&P~ It's unprofessional and someone's feelings could have gotten hurt~!' “

You…you cant be serious? People actually say that?

Yes they did!

Because people had the weird flip-flopping of 'oh, creators (whose shows have LONG SINCE BEEN CANCELLED OR MISTREATED BY NETWORKS) shouldn't talk badly or joke about what they went through...

But constantly reviving middle-school clique nonsense in the professional animator online-space is fine!

And it would be one thing if it was more 'oh, don't talk shit about your network while you're still working under them or hoping to get a new contract' because, yeah, that's just common sense.

But, again, these are shows and creators who have been constantly curbstomped by S&P or network meddling and have already been shown the door. If anything, it's better for these creators to share their post-contract experiences so people who want to get into the industry know what to expect.

[wackyscreamswithraisin]

Indefinite Hiatus and Clearing the air BIG TW ON //PERSONAL

Before I say anything this is the fanfic summary: It’s/ it was revolving around Raisin and Malcom (and Hamilton) from the Smart Talk With Raisin short, somehow stealing a meta cartoon remote from the, inaccessible to them; Cartoon Network ‘toonworld’ (like when you see the characters crossover in CN bumpers). They’d watch Courage the Cowardly Dog on their tv in their room like a comfort, but with the remote they start meddling with the character’s awareness of meta for entertainment - and when Barbara accidentally fuses with a glitched artefact, she is unable to be reverted to normal and she breaks the constructs of her own minor characterdom to try and track them down. The fic idea has changed a lot over the years but that’s what it (currently) has changed to. It’s rather Pibby adjacent and would focus on a lot of what’s changed about cartoons between every half decade - yeah it’s very complicated and over the top lol.

I know y’all are sick of me making these long ass walls of texts instead of proper content and I’m really sorry I keep pulling this 💀. I was going to make a nicer pinned posts] of explanation but since this blog is in a confusing place at the moment I just decided to do it quick instead so I don’t put it off.

For those who don’t want to read the full thing: TLDR,

1. I have personal attachment to Fred that has probably affected my judgement

2. My thoughts on Fred as schizophrenic rep is certainly not universal and the partial embarrassment about writing content revolving around him continues to catch up with me

3. The related problems below are reason why I have been so adverse to seeing Fred as being a r-pist m—-ster or SA’er

And 4. I’m starting to accept that it’s not that deep if my fanfic never gets told. Even if it would make me happy, it’s not the end of my work or me if I don’t. Nevertheless I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for any disappointment.

On the personal issue: First, bc some might not know, I am mentally ill and have had a vague diagnosis of psychosis for years that was never fully decided and that I understand now and abridge as ‘schizopsec’, but follows all the traits of OSDD 1B, enough that I tend to use both terms. ‘Fred’ is one of my alters - he’s my main ISH (internal self helper), caretaker, and fictive (fictional introject), and he has been for around 10 years. This is not a joke. This is as cringe as it sounds, even worse in real life when he fronts of course, and is embarrassing for me to admit even when I attach this post to my main blog where I share schizospec upliftment posts. It’s a complicated and excruciating subject matter for many many reasons, and it’s important that I clarify this, even though it’s uncomfortable for me, since this naturally affects my ability of separating Fred the alter from Freaky Fred in my writing and art. This is part of why I have to keep scrutinising my writing drafts. I believe I can keep them separate, but this is part of the reason why I guess my attachment for him and making content to do with him is there at all.

My thoughts on Freaky Fred in episode : As a schizospec, putting the alter aside, schizophrenic representation means the world and the moon and the stars to me, even when it’s bad. I can’t tell if this is an agreeable opinion amongst other schizospec/ psychotic people, but even damaging and dangerous rep involving homicidality like the axe crazy maniacs have something of catharsis in their rises and falls that I can appreciate, depending. Sexually depraved and violent rep however, crosses a line; obviously schizo killers in fiction are heavily drenched in misinformed stigma and is mostly bullshit and can be dangerous- we are dramatically far more likely to hurt ourselves or be hurt - but I think most people would agree that sexual violence is a different evil altogether, and I cannot stand to see the marginalised mentally ill conflated with such horrendous shit.

There’s the problem. I think Fred is a schizophrenic; other than him getting the equivalent to straightjacketed at the end and taken to presumably some asylum or how he narrates/ talks/rhymes in his own head and otherwise barely talks just disjointedly - he’s got that classic 90s-00s cartoon crazy grin and is instilling fear in the viewer through said unbalancedness,his whole deal is very ‘of its time’ on displaying scary madness. And, all that being said, even though he’s clearly not good rep by any stretch of the imagination, he doesn’t harm anyone - he’s even ‘nice’ - or at least doesn’t seem to be blatantly malicious. The bar is on the floor, but that’s already better than idk William Afton or something.

Fred as a predator: The point of view of Fred as a metaphorical molester is pretty obvious and is a popular opinion, and it would be dishonest to say I don’t completely see it, especially with how he says naughty - the implication steers more into the sexual predator area. Hair shaving isn’t violent as much as taking something away - subtracting, and this can be interpreted in a murderous or SA fashion, but the murderous interpretation I stick with, one akin to Sweeney Todd, is a very flattering view of it and I know it. It’s easy to see how it comes off fetishistic which favours an SA view and is naturally the reason why a lot of people see it as rapey.

The episode as a metaphor for SA or CSA enabled in a household that turns the other way is popular, and at first I didn’t like this theory because it felt like a dark theory made almost to tarnish child content with a deeper or darker meaning, which I had seen a lot elsewhere. But this wasn’t really honest; ‘The Mask’ works well as an episode with no subtext but is respected moreso as an episode clearly about domestic abuse and misandry born from trauma. ‘Freaky Fred’ can also be this.

I think the well and honest truth for me is, even when I do everything I can to touch grass, and remove my personal connection to the character/ the idea of him through the alter, away from the conversation; I really don’t want Fred to be a schizophrenic and a sexual predator character at the same time, and I cannot remove my view of him as the first one, but I have to admit that, in some ways, both was intended for him and this episode in some variation. It’s pretty upsetting to think about; I know a majority audience isn’t going to be that invested in the representation of mad people, especially not in cartoon antagonists, but it matters a lot to me. Obviously it would still be bad if he wasn’t a crazy character and it would still be scary and awful if he acted more ‘normal’, but that craziness is there and the combination feels particularly wretched because, once again, schizophrenics are far more likely to be victimised.

What I’m trying to say with all this; Fred is a mad character who despite being the most offputting and scary character I’ve ever seen in my life, managed to become irremovable from my psyche for almost my whole life, for better and for worse, and in some small way, seeing him as so scary and uncomfortable, but equally ‘good-willed’ and harmless by technicality in that episode, made me feel a little less alone. But people who have been yucked out by this blog and this fixation as I said before are fully in their right, and I am taking a step back to consider if I want to continue with making stuff to do with Fred or not.

The fanfic?: I still think about the story a lot but as you can probably tell I’ve made it very convoluted by involving a meta narrative, and as I’m just about to head into university by the time I’m writing this, it’s difficult to tell what will come of this. I will let you all know, but it’s in a continuous grey area and I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up. I’m sorry.

Will I still post art?: Maybe haha, I never know how to feel when I post it. Sometimes I worry it gives off the impression that I ship post-shaving incident Barbred (I don’t) or that I endorse Fred’s ‘freakiness’ at all. And sometimes I think it just looks bad, as in not a good recreation of the ctcd art style, or too sad - like idk why I think the audience is just going to understand these alarmingly emotional pieces when I’ve been pretty scarce on context, I apologise for everyone’s who’s gotten tonal whiplash scrolling. Fred art may come up elsewhere on my other blog which I will reblog here if I think it’s appropriate.

If you read all the way thank you so much💚, I hope you get what I’m saying, and if you don’t I understand. Consider following my main zebedeezing if you want somewhere I post more often though non ctcd related.

[crazycoke-addict]

To be honest, I dislike when fans use the whole "well Cartoon Network requested the Total Drama Writers to break up Ducney and Gwent so Duncan and Gwen get together" which is like okay, but that doesn't explain why they choose to derail so many of the characters. Breaking up couple is one thing, but derailment yeah, that's on the Total Drama Writers themselves.

So, you're mad that Cartoon Network told you to do this that you first instinct is to ruin the characters that are part of it, the characters that you created and wrote with developments and arcs just because Cartoon Network told you to do one simple thing.

Edit: Someone sent me this post showing that the couples breaking up were never about executive meddling. This means that the writers ruin these characters because why not.

[pixelrushiguess]

randomfox

Here let me extend an olive branch to all the whiny IDW fans who are so mad that I called their stupid comic for babies bad that they started digging through my fap folders:

I really liked this page =3

I find it very arousing to think of Eggman grabbing Tails like that ;3

Mmmh he can just wrap his entire fucking hand around his young little fox body like that~

Lifting him up while growling and fuming. "What are you doing meddling in my network you little mutant pest?" While Tails just squirms helplessly,

blushing despite his heart pounding with fear as the strong hands gripping him start to strain his ribs.

Eggmans seething scowl turns into a dark grin, and he licks his lips looking over Tails. The fox boy can sense the shift in intentions and he gasps,

starts wiggling with renewed desperation.

Eggman carries the little eight year old infiltrator back to the bedroom. Tails will never be seen again.

Yeah~ those are the kinda thoughts that page gives me. So ya know. Good page =3

W H A T ?

[jacquesthepigeon]

In regards to the networks being responsible for watering down cool concepts, that may have been what happened with Miraculous. But even if that were the case, creators whose work got drastically changed by executive meddling usually share on social media stuff like "hey this is what we originally envisioned, but were forced to change it" not "yeah, our original idea is crap and so is anyone who liked it. The way the show currently is is the superior version".

And even if contracts don't let them share what did and didn't get changed, then they would just keep their mouth shut or at the very least not glorify the changes

That guy staying off social media would allow for a lot more plausible deniability definitely

[irlkomaedanagito]

Hey hey, I saw your danganronpa asks post, so I was curious:

27, 29, 35

27. You’re placed in a Killing Game as yourself (who you are now, no perks). How far do you believe you’d get?

i would immediately become a blackened. like im sorry theres always one annoying ass motherfucker in each game like... idk maybe if i was in thh or sdr2's game id be good. but if there was like, a tenko in my game, we'd both be toast because she'd be dead and i would be standing there very conspicuously covered in blood. other than that i think my paranoia would make me solitary but not super killable on account of id just spend all my time holed up in my room. idgaf about the motives i will not be coerced into it. i will just be at the monomono and staying holed up

29. Talent swap time! Which two characters do you think would benefit best from a talent swap?

i dont really know about a talent swap per se but i really want to see what would happen if komaeda had a "proper" talent that wasnt just his luck and how that would impact how he saw himself. would he trash on his own talent no matter what it was bc his self esteem is just THAT low? probably yeah honestly. idk i dont really think about talentswaps much, i like the talents as they are

35. What is your honest opinion on the end of V3?

why would you do this to me.

okay so like. i see what v3 as a whole was going for with the metacommentary on danganronpa as a series. i get it, i really do.

but i think they did it badly.

the characters were super interesting but they were a noticeable downgrade from the ones in the other games. none of them really try to escape save for chapter one, everyone seems kind of reactive in relation to the overarching plot of Why Are We In A Killing Game. plots come out of nowhere like angie's cult thing in chapter 3, like, it felt less like a natural progression of events and more like a "its a new chapter, we gotta have the chapter subplot now!" 4 and 5 are the only 2 that dont have this problem and thats because weirdly enough kokichi is one of the only consistently active characters that is constantly doing something relating to the overarching mystery and trying to utilize his talent to do so (see: shadow leading, taking over the killing game) so of course the two chapters where he's a major player would be the best ones

and im talking about the whole game here because the people who wrote the game also wrote the ending. and if most of the game is clunky and poorly executed then so will the ending be

and i swear to fucking god if anyone goes "uuhhhhhh it was season 53 of COURSE it was bad it was bad on purpose" 1) you cant just handwave any writing critiques with "it was meant to be bad" because the game as a work just falls flat because of it, whether it was a genuine artistic choice or bungled writing and 2) DO NOT. refute my doylist critique with watsonian analysis.

though i heard that the monokubs were included because spikechun wanted a monomi-esque character for v3. and that a lot of time was put into utdp because it was a soft launch for danganronpa s, taking time and budget away from the main game. and i know how executive meddling can TANK a series (see: final space season 1 is genuinely amazing, and the creators had total freedom. season 2 is so muddied and bungled and you can SEE what they were trying to do but ultimately it falls flat, and the network got WAY too involved with s2) so like. i dont think a lot of this is Kodaka's Fault it was probably because of executive meddling. at least thats my guess

also just im sorry i dont know what the fuck v3 is critiquing here. fandom culture, with tsumugi? corporate greed, with team danganronpa doing this to everyone? if some people go "v3 is SO GOOD because it critiques corporate greed destroying artists, tsumugi isnt the fandom, she's the underpaid passionate writer being exploited, people just dont GET IT!!!" and some people go "v3 is SO GOOD because it critiques obsessive fan culture, especially with tsumugi, people either are tsumugi and dont wanna be called out, or they just dont GET IT!!!" then maybe the theme of your game is a little bit fucking muddled

if its Corporate Greed, why is the last panic talk action against the fans of danganronpa, not team dangan themselves. if its actually a super deep and profound look on fiction because shuichi says fictional characters make us feel real emotions and are important, why is the final pta against the fans and refuting their Real Emotions On Fictional Characters and treating them as obsessed lunatics?

and im sorry x2 but someone finding the ending bad doesnt mean they """""didnt get it."""" i get what they were trying to do i just think they didn't do it very well. such is life.

[nuttyrabbit]

randomfox

Here let me extend an olive branch to all the whiny IDW fans who are so mad that I called their stupid comic for babies bad that they started digging through my fap folders:

I really liked this page =3

I find it very arousing to think of Eggman grabbing Tails like that ;3

Mmmh he can just wrap his entire fucking hand around his young little fox body like that~

Lifting him up while growling and fuming. "What are you doing meddling in my network you little mutant pest?" While Tails just squirms helplessly,

blushing despite his heart pounding with fear as the strong hands gripping him start to strain his ribs.

Eggmans seething scowl turns into a dark grin, and he licks his lips looking over Tails. The fox boy can sense the shift in intentions and he gasps,

starts wiggling with renewed desperation.

Eggman carries the little eight year old infiltrator back to the bedroom. Tails will never be seen again.

Yeah~ those are the kinda thoughts that page gives me. So ya know. Good page =3

My guy, can you stop spamming this shit in my inbox?

I get it, this dude's an annoying weirdo, I don't fucking care

[sparklecinnamonbunny]

Send as many as I like? Okay, I need AT LEAST 267 answers for Sunday— (not really. Just give me 3. For her, Ava, and Envy. 3 each? 3 total? Idk. YOU🫵 decide.)

For my good buddy Hot Potato? Schmabsolutely. This answer's gonna be a mile long, so please enjoy this complementary Keep Reading squiggle.

Sunday: 7. Do they believe in soulmates? Oh yeah. Big time. Show up in a few dreams, and Sunday's convinced you're fated to be in her life. She doesn't just believe in romantic soulmates, either; she's considered Dick Knubbler a platonic soulmate for years (although it took many wine nights before she'd admit it to him).

23. What would it take to break their trust? Sunday's trust of most people is so fragile that it only takes one solid mistake to break it. If someone agrees to complete a task for her and they fail to deliver, they're going to the bottom of the list. American Voice Showdown is the show requested to work on the least by MBC's interns, despite its high ratings and frequent celebrity appearances, because of Sunday (and Dick)'s standards. Once you've earned Sunday's trust, she's more forgiving. It would take a serious act of emotional treason to break her faith in someone once she's built it. We're talking betrayal to the media, attempts to grievously harm other friends, longboat arson...

31. What's stopping them from functioning to the best of their abilities? Sunday is stopping Sunday from functioning to the best of her ability. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: Sunday makes her own problems. With the exception of a certain individual meddling with her magic, she's her greatest obstacle. She limits herself romantically because she thinks she curses all her lovers to die. She limits herself professionally because she thinks she couldn't be as good as she once was.

Ava: 14. Are they where they thought they'd be five years ago? Not exactly. Five years ago, she was establishing her cover as Ava Sunbeam, building her career and social network. While she knew she'd have observation targets to get close to, Sunday Mourning and Toki Wartooth weren't who she had in mind. She'd much prefer Rebecca Nightrod and Pickles.

26. Do they want to be remembered when they're gone? What would they like to be remembered as? Ava's been deeply conditioned to put the cause (The Prophecy) before the individual, so she'd only want to be remembered as a loyal acolyte of Salacia— maybe one of his paladins, if she's given the opportunity to fight for him. The point of being an infiltrator is not to be noticed, after all. If she reaches her career goal of taking over for Vater Orlaag, she might have bigger dreams of recognition.

30. How do they self-soothe when they're upset? Vivid fantasies of murder and destruction. And also a LOT of drugs. It's not the healthiest way to cope, but it gets her through. Much like her other co-hosts on American Voice Showdown, Ava is usually high at work. The only difference is the flavor of intoxication. Everyone on set knows Tyler Stevens carries a flask and Dick and Sunday hotbox a car on their union break; but Ava surreptitiously pops pills all day.

Envy: 2. Do they give second chances? Second chances? Yes. Much more than that? No. Envy doesn't like to let people play with her time or her money, and if you can't get your act together after a warning, she's not gonna find time for you. That said, she has a fairly lenient call out system for her employees, and is far more understanding with them than other people in her life.

11. What would it take to break them? I picked this one because I had a hard time thinking of an answer. Envy's thick-skinned, so there's not much you could say that would do more than stumble. Ditto to blackmail: As a member of Club Hedonism's board, she keeps everything she does as legal as she can. She's got a high pain tolerance and an intimate understanding of torture, albeit in the BDSM scene, so it'd take some truly crazy shit to wear her down that way. I think the quickest way to break Envy down would be to target her friends and loved ones. It worked well for a mobster once. Fortunately for her, her family's on the other side of the country, and most of her friends are harder to get at than she is.

33. What words do they desperately need to hear, even if they don't realize it? "You can take a break. You've done enough."

Back to list

[everythingismadeofchaos]

I 100% thought this was about disco music until like 75% of the way in.

Yeah, it got more Star Trek as it went on. You're absolutely right about the tardigrade and the mycelial network and stuff. Sure. It felt really dark to me at first, though, too tryhard. It felt like somebody was trying to make Star Trek into Event Horizon. And I'm not just talking about the lighting.

I think a lot of the reaction originally was about the crew makeup and how it was very different from previous shows in terms of demographics, but my dad was one of these people and as I pointed out to him at the time "So on TOS, where it's a ship full of middle-aged white guys that talk like they're from Schenectady, you think that makes more sense?" The whole idea is that the Earth is United and everybody is equally able to do everything. They weren't able to show this on the original show because of network executives, and that's kind of what I'm talking about.

Honestly the thing that I don't like about "woke" television isn't the "wokeness," it's the feeling that cynical corporate interests are pushing it. It feels phony. When I was a kid we used to say "poser." Just because I agree with the basic premise of being "woke" doesn't help me to override this constant questioning of the narrative. It really is telling to compare the cast of the original show, which was basically like I said 400 white guys, a black woman telephone switchboard operator, a nurse, and a secretary. (And of course everybody is heterosexual. That goes without saying.) And I feel like this was a completely cynical business decision, meddling in the writing of the show.

Then if you look at Discovery, they're doing the same thing, but the other way around. After the first couple seasons of TNG I felt like they were getting out of that, like they were leaving the writing to the writers in the big '90s shows.

Then when Discovery came out, it's not that I objected to there being all these women and so forth; It's more that I felt like the episode wanted me to object to it, like they were intentionally trying to get me to react like what they used to call a "male chauvinist pig." Like they were calling me an asshole. "Check us out! We're really cool! There's all these female and gay characters! That's what people like now!"

This feeling really crystallized the more I thought about the first episode and the "sitcom misunderstanding" that results in the war that dominates the entire show. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that if it was Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, or hell, if it was Riker talking to Picard, they would have understood each other. The idea that the Klingons understand violence and you have to punch them in the nose to be friends with them is a very elementary school boy understanding of interactions between people. It used to be a lot more common.

Maybe people don't understand this now but there used to be this trope where men would get in a fist fight and then after that they would become friends. If you want to watch the best example of this I can think of, it's the hilariously politically incorrect John Wayne movie The Quiet Man. I'm not going to tell you the whole plot, but that's the important part.

Of course it's stupid, and it's probably a stupid way to go about living your life, and it's destructive and harmful and shouldn't be encouraged, but there's a visceral quality to it that actually works. Like, if you have a good cry, after that you feel better. If you're a 10-year-old boy and you can't stand another 10-year-old boy, and then at some point you have a dust up and you give him a fat lip and he gives you a black eye, the odds are pretty decent that this time next year you guys are going to be best friends. I can't explain this and I'm not sure what to think of it now but it's definitely a trope in literature. I can't say I recognize it from personal experience, so I don't know if it's actually part of human behavior or not. I'd like to ask a psychologist actually.

But my point is that if you're over a certain age you're going to recognize this idea, and the way it's inverted in this episode. If the Federation had shown the Klingons that they were tough customers, they could have been allies. In fact, we know the Klingons are sexist ("Women may not serve on the council!"), so maybe in order to have conflict they could have just had a ship led by a couple of women encounter the Klingons and then the Klingons think they're easy pickings.

Anyway, I wound up liking Discovery quite a lot and I'm glad it lasted as long as it did. It's just that I like the way the show talks about humanity, what it should be versus what it is, and it bothers me when what corporate interests are trying to do feels like it intrudes on the writing, if that makes sense.

idk why some trekkies say that disco “doesn’t feel like Star Trek” because i’m like three episodes in and they’re like “but it would be exploitation to use the giant tardigrade to navigate our mushroom spore engine across the galactic mycellial network!!” which is quintessential star trek ethics technobabble if i’ve ever heard it

[the-type-a]

So we all know that the love triangle/break up thing happened because Cartoon Network wanted to show kids that teenage relationships don't last. Could you imagine if they made the characters in their early 20s/college aged instead of 16 year olds? I believe if Fresh TV made the contestants young adults, executive meddling wouldn't have resulted in the Duncney breakup

I still think it’s extremely hilarious that CN wanted to show that not every relationship lasts— by making multiple people cheat in that season alone lmao

Like yeah, makes sense to want to show children THAT.

Anyway, if the show revolved around the cast being older it would be a completely different show and I’d be down for it 😂