#...I might 😆

[ruinix]

Quinn being all clingy after you came home from a business trip. Can I ask for...no smut...or not... idk

Hello, lovely. I don't mind writing no smut. 🫡🥹 I fear I have written this with slight angst… I don’t know why. I’m sorry if you don’t want that. [Anyway, there is a bonus content for this with your POV (it's the voices, i swear), but you don’t need to read it.] Hopefully, you’ll like this. 🧎🏻‍♀️

Blues and Ease

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Fluff (cuddles and kisses), showering together (conserve water jk), a dash of separation anxiety Quinn so a bit of Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Count: 1483 words (+ 483) | Masterlist | Taglist

You’re still not home. Quinn paces again and again. You still haven’t messaged him when he told you to text him if you landed. He wants to pick you up at the airport, but you refuse him. Now, he’s here stressing because you still haven’t messaged him.

He's not used to you going on a business trip. You go on vacation, sure, but he’s usually there with you. He’s not used to not seeing you next to him when he wakes up. Not used to the silence of his—and your—house anymore.

He can cope when it’s him on a road trip, because he is not here. He doesn’t see your clothes, your towels, your perfumes, your trinkets, your plants, and everything else in a hotel room. There are no hints and memories of you there. He calls you every time. He sees you doing your stuff—work or hobbies—with yourhome in the background. It eases his soul.

But not this. Not this house with your things and no you. No soft hums. No walking and pacing, just because. No you on lazing on the sofa with whatever show on one TV, reserving the other for him. No keyboard sounds of you typing. No you eating dinner with him. He hates it.

It's the worst. The worst week of his life.

Everything is not right when you’re not here.

His home is not a home without you. He needs you here.

His heart squeezes. Tears glaze his vision. You’re just gone for a week and he’s losing it. He’s usually gone for a couple for his road trips. You must be enduring this. You are so much stronger than him. You are patiently waiting for him while also cheering him on every time. Unlike him who is being all pathetic because you’re just gone for a week—

Quinn hears the front door open and close. He immediately turns and sees you with your suitcase and a huge bag of chocolates…and flowers? Whatever, because relief is flooding his body.

You’re here.

“Quinn, I’m home!” You dash towards him.

You’re home.

Quinncatches you in a tight embrace. He says, “Welcome back.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck and takes a big inhale. Roses, today.

He misses you so much. He misses this. Holding you. Feeling how perfect you feel in his arms. Basking in your warmth.

It doesn’t matter if you didn’t tell him your plane landed. You’re here. That’s enough.

“Quinn,” you giggle, pressing a kiss on his neck, your hands pushing him off.

It makes him swallow a whine. He doesn’t want to part from you. Even an inch distance is making him want to cry.

“I got you chocolates and flowers.” You push them to his arms. “I need to shower,” you say, kissing him on the lips, walking towards the bedroom.

He blinks at the gifts. He thought it was yours. It’s…for him? His heart speeds up. His spirit that was down in the depths of loneliness lifts. You brought him flowers. Him. Flowers. And chocolates.

He feels nothing else but giddy as he places them on the counter and hastily puts them in a vase. He needs to trim up the stems. Put water in it. Research what these flowers are. He has no clue. Later. He’ll do that later.

Now, Quinn wants to be with you. The smallest distance from you right now is making his head spin, his heart ache. He can’t not be with you right now. He’ll die.

He stands at the bathroom door that’s ajar. He can hear the shower running, can feel its steam, can see the trail of clothes on the floor which he knows you’ll put away after your shower. Just one of your silly quirks.

“Can I join you?” He asks, knocking on the doorframe.

“Yes please,” you reply.

He’s so quick to undress. He joins you in the unexplainably hot shower. It doesn’t matter to him even if it’s scalding to the point of burns—it’s not. It doesn’t matter. No hot water can come between him and you. He hugs you from behind, humming when you say you want to shampoo your hair. It can wait.

“Just wanna hug you.” He kisses your temple. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Quinny.” You turn your head and smile so lovingly. “But I really need to shower. I came from the airport. It was a long flight.”

He's so mesmerized with the water cascading your skin. With the lightest pout on your lips when he doesn’t let go. With your lips still stained by your lipstick. With how your wet lashes group together. With the curves of your eyebrows. Every feature he has memorized, dreamed about, and kissed. You’re marvelous.

Why did the week rob him of you? Why did it feel like you were gone for much longer? Why did it hurt so much this time?

“Quinn?” you call in worry, spinning to face him, hands on his cheeks. “Why are you crying, my Love?”

“Not crying,” he shakily says. “It’s just water.”

“Don’t lie to me, Quintin.”

He shudders, leaning against the wall, taking you with him. “You weren’t home.” It sounds so pathetic, his voice breaking. “I know it’s work. I know. I understand but you weren’t home. It was so quiet. I’m not used to quiet anymore.”

You turn off the water, hugging him. One hand around waist. One hand on his nape to hold him, forehead to forehead. You let him sob. Every tear feels like the release of every chain weighing him down. Every broken breath comes easier and better. All because of your touch, your warmth, your presence. God, he misses you.

“I don’t want you to think you can’t go on another trip, because of this, because of me. You can. I just…It hurts,” he admits.

Your lips capture his. A small, chaste kiss that eases his soul. You rub your hand over his chest where his heart slowly mends itself just by being with you.

You gently say, “I’ll always come home to you, Quinn.”

“Please do.” He tightens his hug. “Please.”

“I promise.” You grab his cheeks. “Do the same for me?”

“You’re my home.” Quinn presses a kiss on your palms, murmuring his promises and affirmations, capitalizing on your touch. “You complete me.”

Quinn knows you would retort that you two are complete pieces that perfectly fit together. But you didn’t today. You only smile as you repeat his words. Oh, his love for you just grows day by day. Moment by moment.

After a few more minutes of just hugging each other, you shower. Quinn just stands there, while you do your routine. He helps when you need to scrub your back and your legs—he doesn’t mind going on his knees to do so—or wash away the suds from your hair.

Even if he gets soapy, he remains there with a hand constantly touching you. Your hip. Arm. Back. Shoulder. Your finger. The tips of your hair. He can’t not touch you. You let him, perfectly understanding how to soothe his need.

He's happy just helping you shower. Then you turn on him and wash him. He already took a shower this morning, but shamelessly, he can’t turn you away. He’ll spoil right back…later. Now, he likes your attention. He relishes your touch, your stories about your trip, your new skincare finds, and most of all, your smiles. You’re so beautiful. So gentle when you condition his hair.

“There we go. Now both of us are clean.” You brush your nose against his. “Boop.”

He misses that. Your silliness. He’s not making it up when he says you complete him. It’s real. So real because you make him happy. You make him feel loved. That’s enough for Quinn. You’re enough.

Oh, he loves you so much.

When both of you are dry including your hair, you cuddle together on your bed, wearing matching sweatpants and sweatshirts. Both of your hands casually slide underneath your shirts, drawing circles on each other’s backs.

Quinn shares what he did during the week. He tells you about the white socks he mistakenly included with the colors which made it an ugly gray. About the media he’s done for the Canucks’ social media. About the potatoes he stupidly burned this morning because he was out of it. About the dinner with his teammates.

He tells you different things.

Simple things.

But you stare at him with sparks in your eyes. Your gentle voice resonates in his chest as you ask and share too.

It spurs him on to ramble.

On and on.

Until both of you are yawning and blinking slowly. Quinn swears he can hear your heartbeats seemingly in sync. Strong for one another. A little lullaby that pushes you two to slumber.

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

You stare at Quinn. His hands are all wrapped up around your middle. His legs are tangled with yours. His soft exhales tickle your face, but you let it. You want to tug on his long eyelashes. No, you are going to tug on them when he suddenly murmurs your name. It stops you from pestering him, but it doesn’t stop you from slipping your arms beneath his so you can hug him. He does the same, pulling you further into him. All while still sleeping.

He’s so pretty when he sleeps. So adorable. Pressing a ghost of a kiss on his nose, you continue to silently gaze at him. 

You two slept from yesterday’s afternoon through today’s morning. Quinn is still sleeping, but you’ve been awake for an hour. It’s a long sleep but not surprising. It happened many times before. Just the two of you sleeping through everything. Too comfortable in your private bubble.

Your heart tugs. You’re so comfortable with him. So deeply in love with Quinn.

His cuddles are something you always miss whenever he’s on the road. Even more when you were on your trip. When he cried yesterday… your heart squeezes. It hurts to see him cry—hurts to think about it.

Although, Quinn being so clingy makes you warm all over. It’s his need for you. Not his pain. Never his pain. It’s the way he kept touching you even when you were showering. The way he melts into your touch. You like that. You love that, because you also cling to him. So. Much.

You bought him chocolates and flowers because he deserves them too. Deserves to know your love. He’s always been working so hard.

The shower with him is great, but you can top that. Stealthily, you slip from his hold, replacing yourself with a nearby pillow and a stuffed toy—a bear with a small Canucks jersey and a number 43—for good measure.

Quinn likes baths. He always joins you, so to spoil your beloved, you start a bath. Vanilla sounds great today—

“You were gone,” his panicked voice made you jump more than his sudden touch.

It hadn’t been five minutes. “Just preparing us a bath, Quinn.”

“I wanna do that with you. I’ll do it with you.”

Quinn doesn’t really need to panic or be desperate. You’ll do whatever he wants. You guess your Quinn is still needy and hurt. Good thing, you’re here to make him feel better. You hold his hands tightly, nodding before kissing him. The small shudders that wreck his body thrum your soul.

Well then, you need to call for a day-off tomorrow.

For your Love who needs reassurance that you will be with him forever.

For your Quinn who desperately yearns for your touch.

Well, you also feel the same way, so it’s no big deal. Not at all. Never at all.

[fallen-exorcist]

Stephanie Beatriz was at a con recently, and she gave a very insightful answer to a question about Vaggie's character that I thought I'd share. (Cleaned up a bit for readability but otherwise her exact words)

"I think Vaggie is really deeply insecure. I think the badassery is really quite a facade for the insecurities of whether or not she belongs, whether or not she is allowed to be in love and whether or not she's deserving of that love.

I think you see little elements of it in season one, of how hard, desperately hard she is trying to make everything in Charlie's life good and better. At the expense of really like who she, who is she? Like we don't really get to know her very much. And I don't think that's by mistake, there is a long game there, meaning that I don't think she knows who she is and she is very very very very afraid to lose the one thing that feels like a guiding light to her, which is her girlfriend.

Which you know, that's lovely and beautiful, but is it particularly healthy? I am not sure. And I think that starts to play out more in the seasons that are coming"

( source , around 21:18)

ASDJHSKJL

I am not joking or exaggerating when I say this answer talks about literally all the main things I wanted to be explored about Vaggie in future seasons, it's amazing to hear they actually will be addressed😭

[i-heart-hxh]

October 30th Togashi tweet!!

[screwpinecaprice]

I was trying to eat noodles neatly and for some reason I got sad midway. So I drew them messy eating a biscuit and a strawberry to combat sad noodle blues.

[psychicskulldamage]

Twilight fanart in the year 2025 😌

[thejolteonmastertj]

New chapter’s got more fuel for my ‘Wild is a cuddler but is awful at asking for it’ agenda! 🤭

See, aside from Wild giving a scant few of playful pats on the shoulder—or Twi’s face at one point—(usually either right after petting Wolfie, or not long after their hug in the Dawn arc)… it always seems to be Twilight to initiate contact.

This time is no exception.

Lookat that body language! Wild’s stiff & reserved at first, to the point that Twilight needs to reach out pretty far to put a hand on his shoulder.

Then Wild lights up & escalates it to full-on horseplay. Twilight even needs to push him away to get him back on track.

This isn’t the first time by far either (hence why Twilight knew his contact would be welcome in the first place).

They’re dorks & they’re brothers your honor. 😂 Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[avon7ade]

That's all Folks!

Good morning from me and a beautiful af day

[myokk]

My drawing gremlin days are coming back so here is some of the art I’ve done this last week and a half♥️♥️♥️ LOT of pencil, ballpoint pen, and some digital art WIPs when it gets dark/im on the train🫶

[storiesofaot]

Thanks for the tag @dont-f-with-moogles! 💫

As so often happens, when you plan to write one thing, you end up writing everything but what you intended, lol xD Here's a little excerpt from the first chapter from another Levihan college AU I've started working on.

Levi hated being the centre of attention and was just about to shift the conversation away from himself when Hange slowly leaned forward, her eyes scanning his face. His breath hitched at the intensity of her gaze, cold sweat prickling at the back of his neck. What the hell was she doing, staring straight into his face like that?

“Hmm, he might have a grumpy face,” she said thoughtfully, then finally leaned back again. “But it’s also a pretty one.” The smile returned to her face, and Erwin let out a laugh at her blunt confession.

Levi couldn’t remember the last time another person had made him blush; it definitely hadn’t happened in a while. Unfortunately, his body seemed to recall it all too well, and he could feel the heat creeping up his neck, spreading over his face and reaching the tips of his ears—at an alarmingly fast pace.

“I think I’m going to like having you around,” Erwin said to Hange, still grinning broadly as he walked over to the cupboard and pulled out his keys. “Alright, I’ll get going. See you in a bit!” Then he was gone.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Did I?” she asked as soon as they were alone. She tilted her head, her hands moving as she rubbed her nail against the edge of her thumb, where nail met skin. Levi wondered if it was nerves or just restlessness, but assuming it was the latter, he shook his head and made a strange gesture as he headed toward the kitchen, hoping she would understand.

“I know I shouldn’t just blurt out things like that,” she continued chattering, and to his relief, followed him without hesitation. (…)

◇

No pressure tagging @starshower1215 @quillsandblades @sunflowersunite @youre-ackermine , if you guys have a snippet of something you're currently working on and don’t mind sharing!🌙

silly wip tag game!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

Thanks @ohmypawsandwhiskers @thechaoticarchivist and @the-traveling-poet for tagging me! And since it’s WIP Wednesday I thought it would be a perfect time to share something from the next chapter of North Star:

I’m late to this game, but I’m tagging @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @dont-f-with-moogles @willreigns @atruewarrior @flametrashira @jayteacups @peachdues and any other writer out there who’s working on something!

[vonspe]

Do you have a ko-fi or something where we can tip you for all the delight you bring to our days? :D

Nay

[ahopefulbromantic]

Since you liked my side wound ask, I'm sharing you a (paraphrased) bit I loved from my priest's homily for Sunday of St. Thomas:

St. Thomas is never shamed by the narrative for asking to touch the wounds - if anything, it's the opposite, since Christ grants his request without complaint. Hence, where St. John represents coming to Christ through unwavering faith and Ss. Peter and Paul represent coming to Christ through repentance, St. Thomas represents coming to Christ through questioning - and all of them are saints for it.

Duuuude this is so great! God bless your priest, he's so right! There is no shame in Thomas' request!

Honestly i love it about Jesus so much that He heard Thomas saying "this is what I would need to believe" and He went "okay, then I'll give it to you. because I love you". And you know what? He did the same to me. He does the same to everybody. Coming to faith through questioning, arguing with God, doubting even but only sincere and hopeful doubting, and all of it being holy, man, God is so good!!

[peaches2217]

So my Peach is a chubby queen. She’s starved and sedentary during her imprisonment prior to Untarnished, and thus she’s emaciated and most of her muscle mass is gone by the time Mario is able to save her. Once she’s home, she’s got two Italian brothers willing to cook for her nonstop, and they and the rest of her support system help her get active and build up muscle again, so it’s not long at all before she gets back on the right track.

Loosing most of her weight then turning right around and gaining it back (and then some) means things don’t quite settle the way they did before. She wasn’t super thin before, but she was more toned. Now her stomach is flabby, her sides and arms are plush, her thighs squish flat when she sits down, and there’s pale and pink stretch marks where her curves are heaviest. She regains her strength and starts participating in sports again, but she never quite tones up like before.

And friends, let me tell you, Mario goes fucking mad seeing her like this. She was already the most beautiful living being in the whole universe, but watching her eat more as her appetite returns, watching her fill out until dresses that hung off of her body now fit a bit too snug? It makes the nightmare that was her imprisonment feel more and more distant, like an old nightmare that sticks with you long after you wake up but whose details grow dimmer with each passing day.

Peach is a little self-conscious at first, but he’s quick to remind her that all this extra weight is a testament to her well-being. She’s fat and thriving and happy— just like him!

He compares her body to his mostly just to get a laugh out of her, but that might actually be what makes her embrace her new form fully. She’s always thought Mario was beautiful, strong yet soft and plush, and that helps her look in the mirror each day and realize that she’s every bit as beautiful, too.

[pigglepiephi]

There are a couple of weeks when I could be potentially watching up to 13 series 😳 unless I drop some of course 😅

I had been hoping something new might drop from Korea soon, but I actually don’t have the energy for more right now! 🤣🤣

[savingsallow]

Until I Found You

Ale's journal entries on his train ride back to London, 1890.

ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂

word count: 645

[words ver ↓↓↓]

December 20, 1890

The clouds hang heavy in the sky, a cloak of grey that muffles the world beneath it. The wind whistles a chilling tune, though I am no stranger to its bite. As I travel on this long train ride, I find my mind wrapped in a comforting silence, but my heart? It beats with a fervour that seems all too loud.

But wait.

How can my mind be silent when thoughts twist and turn like swirling leaves caught in a gentle gale?

Allow me to take you to where it all began.

—

It was a glorious day in September, the kind where the autumn air dances around you as if to proclaim that fortune was smiling upon me.

In the halls of Hogwarts, I stood on the brink of my fifth year, fueled by aspirations that shimmered like the golden leaves outside. I was certain that my hard work would culminate in becoming a Prefect, a rather refreshing voice in a world where a Muggleborn like me could shine brightly while striving for equality.

Ah, yes, a Muggleborn in Slytherin—how delightfully ironic! With each phrase, "Points to Slytherin!" and every exam I passed with flying colours. The professors praised my efforts; I was hailed as an academic force. With each spell I cast and every duel I won, I proved myself more than capable, challenging the underestimation that clung to my title; a duelling maestro.

I revelled in the support of friends who knew they could lean on me. What more could I ask for? I was as close to having it all as one could be.

Yet, amidst the accolades and admiration, my friends often mused, “Ale, how can such a strapping lad still be without a partner?” It’s true; I’ve flirted and indulged in the allure of romance—I adore the grandiosity of love, the theatrical flair that accompanies it. Still, I understand that nothing worth having should be rushed. My heart longs to dive headfirst into the depths of true connection. I’m more than willing to be patient for the right person to come along.

Until I found you.

The girl with the hair like cherry blossoms, ethereal and captivating. Wrapped in an air of mystery, you present a fascinating riddle for me to solve—a blend of sublime beauty and utter intrigue. Your quiet confidence draws me in, enchanting yet boldly unyielding. You seem to glide through the halls, indifferent to the whispers and glances, content simply to be yourself, radiant and unapologetic.

At first glance, you may appear cold, a fortress built of icy walls, but how dare you shatter that veneer with the warmth you so effortlessly harbour? With just a smile—shy yet reassuring—you melt the very thoughts I thought I had all figured out. Fierce yet gentle, your essence wraps around my heart like a delicate vine—how can someone born into such a notorious legacy embody such captivating warmth?

I knew I had to know you.

Oh, Val, how you bring colour in my world of black and white, my unexpected beautiful disruption, the chaos that made sense. You challenge me in ways I never expected, unconsciously daring me to unravel the complexities of your heart. Suddenly, I’m not the flamboyant charmer; I’m a stuttering contradiction, caught up in my own disarray.

There was a time when I thrived in solitude, relishing my own company, yet you have waltzed into my existence and shifted the very foundation of my world. I discovered the love of my life amidst all the inner turmoil and external pressures I've been handling. You become the light that grazes the unassuming prism unlocking its possibilities.

In truth, there’s one undeniable realization that keeps me awake on silent nights. That is, I may never find love like this again. My heart senses it.

I would never fall unless it's you I fall into.

ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂ ˙ׅ ׁ ׁ⠂

These journal entries are strongly inspired by the song "Until I Found You" by Stephen Sanchez.

I accidentally stumbled upon this song on one of my old playlists and it instantly reminded me of Ale soooo—

Here we are 😌✨

[additional notes:]

❄️ non-native english speaker here, so teeny tiny grammatical errors may be present.

❄️ not a writer; just writing for fun!✨

❄️ if my style isn't your cup of tea, respectfully skedaddle in peace~

❄️ i hope you enjoyed this reading, and thank you!🫂❤️‍🔥

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Jacob: I didn’t really see him that much anyway, y’know? Like he wasn’t a dad dad to me. Jude: It’s alright for you then. Jacob: At least you get to stay at Robin’s now, it’s like a sleepover every weekend! Jude: I guess-.. everything’s still weird though. [Jacob shrugged, unsure what else to say; he didn’t understand grownups any more than Jude did] Jude: I can’t believe dad n’ Pixie got to go on holiday without me. Jacob: Aren’t you going somewhere with your mom n’ Gavin in the summer holidays? Jude: I’d rather stay with dad then be bribed by my stupid soon to be step-dad… Jacob: Don’t tell her that. [Robin sighed, bored of his friends talking about grownups and their nonsense; there was enough of that at home without Jude and Jacob banging on about it all day as well. He almost felt grateful as Levi strode towards them, at least he’d change the subject] Levi: Any of you losers got a date for the dance yet? Jude: Not yet… Jacob: Who cares? Levi: I might ask Juniper later. Jude: You can’t! Levi: Oooh, why not? Jude: I mean-.. you could, but she wouldn’t say yes. Levi: Guess we’ll find out-.. what about you, Mutey? You could give someone a note or something, right? [Robin said nothing, much to Levi’s chagrin, eventually forcing him to continue without a response] Levi: Well.. three girls have asked me already, so you better hurry up or I’ll steal ‘em all. Jacob: [snorts] Like anyone would wanna go with you. Levi: I bet your mom would. Jacob: Which one? Levi: What? Teacher: C’mon, boys.. the bell rang five minutes ago. [Levi tensed slightly as Jude and Jacob wandered off, leaving him alone with Robin] Levi: Are you deaf as well? [Robin remained silent but passive, fascinated by Levi’s contradicting and tumultuous thoughts] Levi: I’m not actually gonna ask Juniper, I know she’s your cousin… [Robin shrugged; it wasn’t his business who Levi asked to some lame dance-.. Jacob was right anyway, who cared?] Levi: But if I did, she’d say yes. [Robin squinted; he wasn’t so sure about that] Levi: [scoffs] You’re creepy as hell, d’you know that? Always staring at people-.. such a weirdo. Teacher: Chop, chop, boys!

[pizza-game-posting]

You’ve heard of Rubix cube, now get ready for Roobits cube!