#this is such a weirdly specific little thing like you would never expect this to even exist as a thought

[mbrainspaz]

today in 'experiences that I mistakenly thought were unique and personal' apparently other kids also got an inexplicable high from learning the word 'penultimate' from the Pendragon books in the 2000's.

[piningforstan]

I just recently found your page and love your work!!

can you write an angsty Stan fic where reader and Stan are still dancing around their feelings and reader finally gets the courage to confess to Stan but maybe overhears a conversation with him and Ford out of context saying he won’t date them and r is crushed? Then cue r trying to move on and jealous!Stan and then they get together somehow?

Thank you!!💕

I ended up placing this fic when Stan and Ford are still in high school before their falling out. I apologize if the timeline with Carla isn’t canon, I just wanted to include her. Also, reader is mentioned as a female a few times but this can easily be read as gender neutral.

I hope you like it!

You loved alcohol as much as you loved getting bamboo shoots shoved under your nail beds. But Carla “Hotpants” McCorkle had just broken up with Stan, and it was your duty as his best friend to support him. And if that meant drinking cheap beer on the beach with his brother, then so be it.

“I thought she was the one,” Stan grumbled. He crunched his empty beer can, belched, then reached for another.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that about every girl. Even that one you saw in a dream.”

You knew because you kept a detailed record of Stan’s revolving door of women, each declaration of love another stake in your heart. Secretly, you were pleased that Carla ended things with Stan. You could never date him in fear of ruining your friendship, but that didn’t mean you liked to see him with other girls. Especially not stuck-up bitches like Carla.

“I just dunno what she sees in this new guy.”

“He doesn’t litter?” Ford answered. He nudged the growing pile of discarded cans with his foot. Stan’s brother never drank, but he certainly lamented about how much the two of you did.

Stan continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “So what he can play guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Can you?”

“No.” Stan angrily kicked up sand. “But I would learn if I thought I had a chance of winning her back.”

“You don’t need her,” you told him. The beer in you warmed you from the inside out, initiating the familiar tingling sensation in your legs that happened when you drank. “You’re Stan motherfucking Pines.”

Stan grinned at you. “You’re right. I don’t need her.” After slurping down the rest of his beer, Stan grabbed the bottom of your chair and pulled you closer. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple.

It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to — Stan happened to be very affectionate, even worse when he was drunk — but it still sent your pulse skyrocketing.

“I got the only girl I need right here,” Stan said, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

Your insides turned molten. Of course, you loved when Stan called you “his girl” but the sting of the words were especially painful in the wake of his breakup. You would never actually be his girl in the way that it mattered.

You could never jeopardize your friendship with Stan, or Ford. You had been inseparable since you were children, when Stan received a particularly nasty note about you in class and instead of passing it on promptly ate it. You took a likening to him immediately. And, since Stan was never without his brother for very long, Ford became the reasonable cornerstone of your friendship.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that you realized you saw Stan as much more of a friend. To be specific, when he successfully grew out his mullet and you fawned over it instead of throwing up in your mouth. On anyone else you might’ve. But it weirdly fit Stan, who you’d watched go from a weird, skinned-knee little boy to a weird, broad-shouldered man with dark curls that you desperately wanted to run your hands through.

Ford shattered the moment. “Why don’t you guys just date then?”

You’d both been asked the question before. It was expected, when a boy and girl were friends. Parents, nosy teachers, old ladies peering at you from wiry glasses. Usually the two of you fielded the question with various degrees of hilarity — “he gave me an STD” or “that’s my sister!” — but tonight it felt profoundly different.

Perhaps it was because you were so close, physically. Or perhaps because you had confided in Ford the secret crush you harbored on his brother. You trusted him not to tell but to hear it now, spelled out in the air, made you stiffen.

“She knows all my disgusting habits,” Stan finally said to break the silence, “I couldn’t trick her into it.”

He grinned at you in your peripheral, a certain softness in the corners of his mouth that weren’t usually there. You rallied your best grin back,

“Yeah, it would be weird. Right?” You chuckled nervously.

Stan, with unprecedented exuberance, nodded in agreement. “S’weird. I’ve seen you in your retainer. Could never fool around with you after that.”

Ouch. You pretended it didn’t feel like a blow to the stomach. “And you smoke too much. It would be like kissing an exhaust pipe.”

“See? It could never work.” Stan tore another beer off the plastic rings, drained it, then announced he was going on a walk. You watched his retreating form until you were sure that he could no longer hear you.

You whipped around. “Ford! What was that?”

“I’m sick of you two dancing around the subject. If you just dated I wouldn’t have to sit out here every few months when you inevitably get dumped because you’re with the wrong person.”

You groaned and slid down in the lawn chair, covering your face with your hands. You actually liked the smoke that clung to Stan’s clothes, the deft flick of his thumb striking up the lighter. Why did you tell him you didn’t?

You’re a coward, your inner voice accused. You panicked. It wasn’t like you could exactly agree with Ford, especially not after what Stan said about your retainer. Did he mean that?

If he did, that was worse than anything else. Not only did he not harbor a secret attraction, but he was repulsed at the idea of you together.

Stan stumbled back down the beach a few minutes later, to your chagrin. It was much easier not to think of him when he wasn’t in front of you; even like this, swaying on his feet and looking slightly green.

“Stan, are you —?”

He lurched and fell face forward into the sand.

Ford glared at you like it was your fault. “This is the last time.”

“Sure. Just get his other side.”

“Thank you again, hun.” Caryn Pines smiled sweetly at you. The small kitchen smelled profusely of her perfume and cigarette smoke, wrapping around you like an embrace.

“Yeah, of course. No big deal.”

Caryn looked at you strangely, in that way that adults did sometimes. “You’re always takin’ care of my Stanley. I know he ‘ppreciates it, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I couldn’t leave him on the beach.” You took a bite of the babka that Stan’s Ma put out, chewing thoughtfully. “Again.”

Caryn always tried to feed you when you came over, no matter how fleeting of a visit. You had seen her sneak the food out of packages and container and pass it off as her own, but you didn’t care. It encompassed her parenting abilities — well-meaning but slightly manufactured, a desire to be the mother that she wanted to be but not exactly the drive to put in the work.

Either way, you knew she loved you like her own.

“Ya know, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure it out,” Caryn said.

Your face warmed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s crazy ‘bout you. I know my Stanley.”

“But what if…what if we broke-up ? I can’t lose him in my life.” Tears strained your voice. Here you were, admitting your feelings to another Pines family member except for the one who actually needed to hear it.

Caryn clicked her tongue and edged around the island, pulling you into a hug. “But what if it’s great? What if it’s everything you imagined?”

“Maybe,” you said, muffled in her side.

Caryn gave you a final squeeze. “I could only pray for someone like you for my son. Say, you don’t happen to have a sibling for Ford, do ya?”

You shook your head. Caryn made a gesture like too bad then fiddled with the coffee machine.

“Here.” Caryn shoved a steaming mug in your direction, then wiped her hands on her dress. “Take this upstairs for me, will ya? I’ve gotta check on Shermie.”

You stood rooted in place for an embarrassing amount of time, mulling over what she had said. What if it was great? Your heart jumped. Maybe she was right. You would tell Stan.

Emboldened, you crept down the hall and past the living room. The TV flickered ghostly blue lights over the couch where Filbrick snored, and you were careful to avoid the creaky stairs. It wasn’t ever said aloud but everyone knew in the house not to disturb Pa after work. He wasn’t abusive, that you could tell, but somewhere on the verge of it.

Stan and Ford’s voice drifted from their shared bedroom — Stan’s gruff, drunken mumbles and Ford’s clever quips lined with affection.

You were going to tell him. You loved him.

A hitch of agitation in Stan’s voice made you pause at the first step, just out of earshot, a silver of light falling across you from the cracked door.

The delirious, bubbly feeling of excitement in your chest fluttered uncertainly.

“Oh, would give it a rest, Sixer?”

“Stan, I just think —”

“You know how I feel about her,” Stan interrupted. From your vantage point you could see him sprawled out on his bed, one hand over his face.

Her? Meaning you?

Your grip tightened on the mug. Here it was, the universe delivering you a sign that Caryn was right. That you were right.

The view didn’t offer any insight on Ford but you could hear his desk chair squeaking as he leaned backwards, contemplative. “And how do you feel about her?”

A beat of silence, the covers rustling as Stan lifted himself onto his elbows. “She’s my best friend.”

“Uh huh.”

“And-And of course I love her.”

“Uh huh.”

“But I could never date her.”

Your blood turned cold. What? Didn’t he just say that he loved you? Whatever brief, sweet bliss you had went plummeting into the ground. You turned away, coffee in hand, unable to listen to more.

Stan stared up at the ceiling, at the water stain that looked like an elephant. Sometimes when he tried to get his feelings out, the words would run circles around and around in his head until he chased them down. It didn’t help that he had drank so much.

Towards the end it wasn’t even really about Carla anymore, but you. You, with your dumb perfect face and laugh. The way that you stuck around despite knowing everything about him, about his family, leaving him feeling raw and infested like an overturned rock.

His stomach churned. Stan waited for the nausea to pass, pinning down his words before eking out, “I would fuck things up with her. It ain’t worth it. Losin’ her. Ya know?”

God he hoped he was making sense. The room was spinning and the elephant was now doing summersaults.

“I wouldn’t let you,” Ford quietly replied. “I know you love her. I’d stop you from fucking up.”

Stan laughed, dry and brittle. “No one can stop me. I’m a one man fuck-up.”

“You’ve never been one man.”

Stan curbed his nausea enough to look at his brother. Really look at him. Any other given day and he might’ve kicked him for saying something like that. His throat bobbed. “Yeah. Yer right.”

A moment passed between them, one of those brotherly, twin moments that he hadn’t felt since they were kids. Ford clapped his hands together.

“My first declaration of not letting you fuck up is to tell her tomorrow how you feel.”

“What? Tomorrow! No way.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. Stan waved a hand and flopped back down onto the bed, resigned. “Fine, fine. Hey, can you tell that elephant to stop moving? He’s bein’ a real dick.”

After that night, you avoided the Pines family like the plague, dodging after-class visits and letting calls go to the answering machine. Your parents asked where your “boyfriend” was, as they lovingly referred to him, but it only felt like salt in the wound. Stan would never be your boyfriend. He said it himself — he could never date you.

You hated the heavy grayness that clung to you, and most importantly, you hated that the one person you wanted to talk to about Stan was…Stan. And you couldn’t. How mortifying it would be to confess something so life altering for him to say that he only saw you as a friend.

Stan left message after message, wondering what he had done and if you could. But you couldn’t bear to see him. You ate lunch in the girl’s bathroom and nearly sprinted to your car after school, peeling out of the lot as soon as the final bell rang. He tried to come by your house, too. Your parents, loyal to you no matter how much they loved Stan, told him you weren’t there.

It was safe to say that, after a month of this, they were relieved when you stepped out of your room in actual clothes. Your mother actually clutched her pearls. “You look amazing. Where are you going? Did you make up with Stanley?”

You ignored that line of inquiry. “I have a date. Not with Stan,” you added, well aware that was the follow up question.

“Oh.” Your mother’s happiness faltered slightly. “Who with?”

“Just someone from school. I’ll make sure they drop me off before curfew.” You pretended to be oblivious to their probing stares, kissing them each on the cheek before striding out the front door to the idled car in the drive.

A dark shape shot out of the driver’s seat and scrambled to open up your door. Eugene glanced nervously at your house as you climbed in. “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet your folks?”

“I’m sure,” you said, monotone.

Eugene had been interested in you for a while now, but you always hedged your answers, not wanting to commit. Last week you finally said yes. You needed to get over Stan — even though the first thing you thought of was how he would laugh at Eugene for opening your door. You could just hear his rasping, seething laugh. Pussy, he would call Eugene, and you would punch him.

Throat thickening with tears, you forced yourself to admire Eugene in the glow of the streetlights that passed by. He was classically handsome. Smart, kind. A musician. Everything that, on paper, would make the perfect boyfriend. It was incredibly sweet that he wanted to meet your parents and open your car door.

Yet all you could think about was Stan: his untamed mullet and cauliflower ears from boxing, the nose slightly too large for his face that was crooked from all the fights he instigated. The braying sound of his laugh and how he thought it was funny to snap your bra strap. The fact that, beneath the jokes and the crude humor, he was soft and compassionate and an excellent artist. He always made you laugh. He was a million things that Eugene would never be.

But Eugene was one thing Stan wasn’t.

Interested in you.

You shoved all of that down by the time Eugene pulled up to your date, flashing him your most winning smile. A drive-in movie seemed innocent enough. You were confident that Eugene wouldn’t try to make any moves, but you still directed him to park near a minivan of children.

“Want to steal some candy from them?” You asked.

Eugene’s expression shifted as if you’d suggested something morally offensive. “What? From the kids?”

“I was just teasing,” you said. You hadn’t been.

Stan would’ve happily jumped at the offer, distracting the family with one of his wild stories while you snuck a pack of candy. The two of you would then share whatever snack and giggle the rest of the movie over your cleverness.

You felt like throwing up. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about Stan?

Abruptly you shoved open the door. “I’ll just go get snacks then.”

“Wait!” Eugene’s voice was muffled, you had already shot out of the car and nearly closed the door. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll pay,” Eugene said.

“It’s fine.”

You needed to get out. Needed to get away. Without waiting for any further questions, you slammed the door shut and stalked off towards the concessions. The night air was uncharacteristically cool, brushing over your flushed skin.

“Okay, calm down, you’re okay. You’re on a date with a nice guy,” you coached yourself.

“You’re on a date?”

You wheeled on your heel. Stan stood a few feet away, brow furrowed. His fur-lined jacket bulged with hidden contraband. “Stan?”

“You’re on a date?” He repeated, the timbre of his voice sinking dangerously low.

“Yes.” You raised your chin.

His jaw feathered. “I haven’t spoken to you in, like, a month. You’ve been dodgin’ my calls and avoidin’ me. What’s goin’ on? Now you’re on a date?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you bit back.

“You don’t?” Stan barked out a scathing laugh. “You just stopped talkin’ to me without any s’planation. What am I supposed to think?”

You stepped into line at concessions. “I don’t know, Stan.”

“Talk to me.” Your name on his tongue was a prayer. “Please. I can’t take this.”

A knot formed in your stomach. You ordered for you and Eugene then brushed past Stan, ignoring his protests. He followed you to Eugene’s car. You wretched open the door, intending to fling yourself inside, but Stan stopped it. He leaned down to peer at your date.

“Eugene? Really? This guy?”

Eugene sputtered. You gritted out, “Stan. Go. Away.”

Stan’s dark gaze bounced from you to Eugene, then back to you. The look on his face was unreadable. “Fine.”

The door shut with a resounding thud. It took all of your strength not to watch him walk away. You tore off the top of a box of M&M’s and shoveled the candies into your mouth.

“Was that Stan Pines? I thought you guys were, like, friends,” Eugene finally said.

“Not anymore.” The candies slid down your throat, suddenly dry and pasty.

“Oh.” Eugene pretended to fiddle with the radio, switching through stations. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mercifully, the movie screen flickered to life and saved you from more awkward conversation. You kept putting handfuls of candy in your mouth to keep from talking or interacting with Eugene at all. Frankly, you just wanted this date to end.

Eugene respected your space, too, which only worsened your conflicting emotions of shame and regret. You wished you could apologize to him but you couldn’t form the words.

You were jerked from your self-loathing when a huge shadow played across the screen, disrupting the movie. Yells of outrage sounded from across the grassy knoll, until the dark shape on the screen split apart. The candy in your stomach threatened to come up. The profile was unmistakably Stan’s, confirming your theory when you twisted around to spot him in front of the projector, entangled with Carla McCorkle.

He grabbed her hand, smirking at the enraged onlookers, and ran off.

Carla? Again?

Eugene examined you. “Do you…want to go somewhere else?”

“Yes. Please.”

He took you to get Dairy Queen, then dropped you back off at home. The passing shadows in the window told you that your parents had anxiously been awaiting your arrival. Eugene moved to get out, to open your door again, but you laid a hand on his arm.

“I’m really sorry. About tonight,” you choked out.

Eugene smiled sadly. “It’s okay.”

You kissed his cheek and climbed out of the car, up the stairs to your house. Eugene waited until you were safely inside before pulling away.

School sucked. You were forced to see Stan with any number of girls. In fact, it seemed as if he was going out of his way to flaunt them, the lingering touches and kisses. It burned you inside.

He preferred anyone but you.

Another month passed, each day growing more and more unbearable without your best friend, without Ford, the reliable foundation of your friendship. With the end of school approaching, so was college, the awaiting jaws of a monster threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even tell them that you got accepted into your dream school.

When a hand grabbed your arm, the familiar face following, you were struck with a swell of emotions. But it wasn’t Stan. The body was all wrong, the measured expression never once belonging to him but his brother. Ford’s eyes were pleading. “We need to talk.”

“Stan can’t know about this,” you said after consideration. Ford nodded.

He brought you into a deserted classroom. You lingered near the door, not sure what to say after all of this time.

“Stan is falling apart,” Ford said without preamble. “I don’t know what happened, but neither of you can continue like this.” A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. “I can’t.”

You inhaled. It wasn’t fair to drag Ford into this, but it was hard not to. You could never make him side against Stan. “I just…I can’t do it.”

“Do what?”

You turned your face from him, ashamed. “I heard him. That night after we brought Stan home from the beach. He said…he said he could never date me.”

Ford’s face shutters closed. “Is that all you heard?”

“I didn’t need to stick around to hear about how abhorrent the thought of dating me is,” you replied, tone bitter.

Ford flipped open his messenger bag and rifled through it, muttering something that sounded a lot like “two idiots” before finding what he needed. He handed you a folded flyer. “Stan is throwing a party here this weekend.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You should go.”

You glanced at the paper. The address stated a beach not far from your usual haunt, promising alcohol and a good time. Leave it to Stan to make invitations to a party like this, complete with crude renditions of women in bikinis. You clutched the paper. “I’ll think about it.”

Ford was halfway out the door when he stopped. “He really misses you.”

The words resonated with you the rest of the day. Sometime between meeting with Ford and that weekend, you decided you would go. Eugene told you he couldn’t go, he had to study, so you informed your parents you were going out and that was that. They let you without complaint, probably because you had been moping around the house the last two months.

Tonight you donned your best dress, black and sparkling and totally inappropriate for a beach party but when you bought it, at the mall with the twins, Stan hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you. There had been no reason to wear it until now and you secretly hoped he had forgotten about it so you could shock him all over again.

By the time you arrived, sweat had gathered at the base of your neck and dampened your hair. You regretted wearing the dress upon seeing the other girls in their bikinis and hotpants, and made a beeline for the keg to soothe your nerves.

The beer was sticky and warm. You sipped it, wishing that instead of being here with people you didn’t know (or care about) you were with Stan and Ford on lawn chairs. The usual. Instead you gazed out upon the rest of the party and found Ford, trapping someone into listening to his theories most likely, and Stan presiding over a beer pong games.

Almost as if your gaze was a beacon, Stan looked up immediately as you spotted him. A cord of familiarity, of affection, tied you together and you could feel its tug behind your navel.

Stan stormed over to you, kicking up sand in his wake. “What are you doing here?”

“Ford invited me.”

“He did?” Stan searched for his brother, who had conveniently found somewhere else to be. “Why are you here?”

“I got invited, remember?”

“Where’s Eugene? Is he here, too?”

“No.” You didn’t feel like giving him an explanation, didn’t need to. You especially didn’t want to tell Stan that it was because you were still in love with him.

His dark eyes hardened. “Where is he?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Stan’s mouth moved as if he was biting back a retort, debating whether to say it. He raked a hand through his hair. He spit. “It doesn’t.”

You spent the rest of the party drifting from place to place, never lingering long. The bonfire funneled smoke into the air, as inconsistent and tangible as you, a ghost on the outskirts. You’re not sure why you came, why Ford invited, why you were still here. The beer had given you a nice buzz, a certain looseness in your limbs, and you decided that was enough. You started up the sandy dunes, shoes in hand, when you heard the sand behind you being displaced by footsteps.

Stan followed you, silhouetted by the fire in an orange haze. “What do you want?”

“I’m walking you home.”

“No. You’re not.” You marched off.

He trailed behind. You thought that he might get bored or fed up and leave you alone but he persisted. Only once you hit the sidewalk did you furiously spin around. “What do you want?”

“I ain’t lettin’ you walk home by yourself,” he replied.

“I walked here by myself. I’m fine.”

Stan took a few steps toward you. “Just let me do this, okay?”

“It’s your party, you shouldn’t leave,” you replied.

“Exactly. My party. I can do what I want.” Stan drew to his full height, shoulders back, reminding you that without his rounded posture he cut an intimidating figure. But it wasn’t intimidation he sought, but protection — protection of you.

Your back molars gritted together. “Fine.”

It actually felt nice, relieving, actually, to walk side by side with him. He maintained a step or two behind you, undoubtedly sensing your anger, but you didn’t correct him. You stayed like that, your strange, wordless dance all the way to your house. When Stan moved as if to follow you inside, what he would’ve done before, you barred him from the door.

“You shouldn’t,” you told him softly.

His brow furrowed and Stan shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket. The porch awning cast him half in shadows. “What did I do? I know you’re punishin’ me but what I can’t figure out is why.”

“I’m not…I’m not punishing you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Then what? Is it your new boyfriend?”

“Who, Eugene?” You shook your head. “No, this isn’t because of him. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?”

“No.”

“What ‘bout yer date?”

“It was just one time. And it was a mistake,” you admitted.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Stan’s infuriatingly handsome features were set in determination. You wanted to go to him, bury yourself in his chest and let him envelope you. But that same feeling twisted, grew sharp teeth that latched on and refused to let go.

“Why? What do you care?” You fired back. “You’ve been so busy with your tongue down every girl’s throat that I’m surprised you even noticed I wasn’t around.”

Something shifted in Stan, a spark igniting into an inferno. “You’ve been avoidin’ me and ignorin’ my calls, refusin’ to speak to me without telling me why. I don’t get it. If you’re so against me, then why do you care what I do?”

You hissed back, “I don’t. But it’s hard to miss when you’re dry humping your flavor of the week in front of the whole school.”

“How do you think I felt when I saw you with Eugene?”

You paused, his words soaking into your skin. The fist of anger in your stomach loosened at the pain in those words, if only slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to be there, Stan. And I didn’t think it would matter even if you were. You could never date me.”

“What?” Stan’s entire body stiffened.

“You said it yourself,” you said. You were loathed to say the words aloud, which made you cry, which only made you angry to be crying. “You could never date me.”

“When did I ever say that?”

“I heard you,” you said. You explained to him how you had overheard the conversation between him and Ford that night. He listened the entire time, quiet and unmoving.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face. “You didn’t stick around to find out why?”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to hear how repulsive and horrible I was,” you snapped.

“I told Ford that I couldn’t date you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. The last few months have been hell, doll. Going without you every day has been…unbearable.” Stan brushed his knuckles over your cheek, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Please don’t make me go through that again.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes swimming with tears. “I’m sorry, Stan. I only did it because I couldn’t stand to be around you if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Same way?” Stan’s mouth morphed into a tired, wistful smile. “I’ve loved you since that first day in class. Since you saw them passin’ that note and instead of bein’ upset you raised your chin.”

You faltered. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you.” Such a simple, genuine statement.

“Stan, I love you too. I’m so sorry —”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you how I feel. I’m an idiot.”

You touched his arm. “No, you’re not. Well, you are, but not because of that. I was scared too. And I hurt you.”

“I’m tough.” Stan lifted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. In his face you saw a whole lifetime of memories, of laughter. “But you gotta promise me not to ignore me again. Messed me up so bad that Ford said he saw me stare at a wall for two days straight without sayin’ a word.”

“You? Not talking?”

“I know.” Stan shuddered. His composure softened a bit, examining you as if seeing you for the first time. “When I told you that you were my girl, I meant it. You’re the only girl for me.”

In way of reply, you grabbed the front of his jacket and pressed your lips to his.

You had kissed before, in middle school, just to get the first one over with. It had been brief and awkward, his front tooth clashing off yours. This kiss maintained the same level of comfort, of familiarity and safety, but charged with a current of passion. He kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to do it again, pulling you into him in a frenzied manner.

Stan’s tongue ran over the seam of your lips, parting them so that he could slip inside, invited by your breath of surprise. You melted into him. Everything about him, this moment, felt right. Perfect. His hands in your hair and roving over the form-fitting dress you had worn for him, sighing and muttering praises on your flushed skin.

You didn’t stop until the porchlight flickered on and the front door ensnared you in its beam. Stan still held you to him, lips bruised, frozen. Your mother took one look at you entangled together on the porch and then sighed in relief.

“Well, finally.”

[piratefishmama]

Nest

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

Contrary to popular belief, Alpha heartthrob of Hawkins High Steve Harrington never managed to find himself a suitable mate. He tried, he tried multiple times with many different omegas, tried with Betas, hell he even tried with another Alpha! However, he never lived up to their expectations, he was never what they expected or hoped for, those he tried to court always eventually told him he was too soft.

He lacked the aggression, the ‘slam you against a wall and take you’ kind of rough edges a typical Alpha would have that made the act thrilling for his partner, that created that kind of primal need to submit that they desperately longed for.

He lacked the primordial Alpha need to take, to claim. Some even claimed he ought to have been born an Omega, that the Alpha didn’t suit him, that somehow he’d been born wrong, that his secondary gender didn’t fit him, it wasn’t right.

He was too soft, too affectionate, too clingy too— too much.

Everything about him was bullshit.

Nancy, his one attempt at a relationship with another Alpha, had been drunk when she’d said that to his face, and she didn’t actually remember saying it the day after, but… it still stuck with him years after it’d happened. Years after they’d become friends, years after she’d settled into a Poly relationship with a sweet, if a little awkward omega, Jonathan and his ridiculous (read: weirdly charming, Steve loved him) Beta mate, Argyle.

So he didn’t have a mate. No big deal, it wasn’t like he longed for one or anything, it definitely not like that at all. It wasn’t like he wanted a big family, to be loved, to be wanted, to be welcomed into a nest made of a mixture of his and his mates clothes, his and his mates blankets and pillows and—it was fine. He was fine.

He wasn’t fine, but within that failure, came opportunity. Alphas came in all shapes, sizes, and thankfully, as much as people liked to doubt, temperaments, which given how soft he as an alpha was, made him perfect for Nest. A clinic for unmated Omegas who struggled with their heats, Omegas who had nowhere to turn, no-one to help them through the worst week of the month.

An alpha helped. Even if he didn’t touch them, and usually he didn’t, having an alpha there, their pheromones permeating the room, just existing in their space, sometimes it was enough to help ease the pain of having no-one to fulfil the other needs.

He wasn’t allowed to touch them intimately, it wasn’t a sex thing, it was a comfort thing. A thing some Omegas needed, especially if they’d never had an alpha with them before.

Sometimes, never having one was worse than having one once and never again. You craved something with no frame of reference for why or how to recreate it, you’d go mad going in circles trying to figure out why this part of you needed something so badly despite never having had it.

It could get bad. Some went mad over it. Hence the Clinics.

Hawkins had one. Singular. Just one. It was linked up to the hospital, deeply underfunded and regularly had protesters outside claiming the alphas inside to be sex workers.

Blatant ignorance at work there, but Steve stopped caring about his public image before he’d even left school so on each shift he’d walk through the throng of idiots, with his head held high, greet his best friend Robin at the front desk, a quirky Beta with zero brain to mouth filter and the gift of gab.

She probably wouldn’t call it a gift, but Steve adored her. Had a bit of a crush on her at first, quickly replaced by platonic love after she’d drunkenly came out to him in a public restroom at a Christmas party.

She liked women. Omega women to be specific. He’d never asked her to elaborate on why not male Omegas, she had a type, that was that.

Steve liked both, he liked all. Steve wasn’t fussed, Omega, Beta, Alpha, male or female? It didn’t matter to him, he’d tried all in his search for a mate that’d stay and found himself enjoying all.

He just needed one to stay.

He’d walk in, greet Robin, if he didn’t have an Omega already, he’d grab a clipboard with his new assignment on it and head straight there. It was one of those days.

His last Omega, an awkward little thing that Steve sort of recognised from high school, he’d been a freshman during Steve’s last year, had left the night before, content and at ease, had spent most of the coherent hours talking Steve’s ear off about a table top RPG game he played with friends, Dungeons and Dragons.

Steve didn’t mind, he asked questions, let him bounce character ideas off of him, helped him pick a race out of a mix of words Steve didn’t really recognise but it made the Omega, Gareth, happy.

They came up with Galgrun the Giant together. A Dwarf with a height complex and a really big hammer.

He liked Gareth. Gareth was sweet, soft, bit too young though. Reminded Steve of the gaggle of kids Nancy’s little brother would hang around.

His new assignment was older.

Older than himself by one year, which… wasn’t unusual but it definitely wasn’t a normal occurrence either. Usually the Omegas that used the facility were younger, younger and in desperate need of comfort.

“They’ve put him in room 69, he found that hilarious.” Robin chirped when Steve looked up from his clipboard. Another him. Not that that was a bad thing, sometimes they alternated. “He’s a little… jumpy, very nervous, I could smell him a mile away and you know what my sense of smell is like.” Most first timers were, he checked out the clipboard again, no previous alpha, no sexual history, no… nothing.

For an omega older than himself to have zero experience in intimacy with an alpha, even the soft non-sexual kind? No wonder he was jumpy. “Alright, says here he came from a referral?”

“Yeah, GP basically threw him at us after he turned violent during his last heat an damn near mauled his uncle, he mentioned Gareth when he came in, that’s why they gave him to you.” Not just because he was one of the best Alphas there, but because Gareth had said nice things, the omega had asked for him. “Go get him tiger.”

Part 2

[tohisprettyc00l]

Could you write tadc cast x reader kissing hcs?

Pomni: You'd have to be the one to ask. She is very nervous. The first few times the kiss lasts like one second. She blushes, grabs the end of her hat, and hides her face. Though overall very happy :).

Jax: 50/50 on who asks first. But if you ask first expect him to poke fun at you for a minute before kissing you. If you get flustered he is very smug about it. I don't think he'd be that flustered but if he is then he doesn't show it. Also, he moves his lips to talk sometimes and he's opened his mouth so I think he can move his lips to kiss you...?

Ragatha: I think she would be more likely to ask. Very soft (lol). After the first few times she just kinda pecks you on the cheek randomly. Would be the type to give you a congratulatory kiss. She picks you up and spins you and everything.

Gangle: You'd 100% have to be the one to ask. It's a little awkward 'cause her face is completely flat so you might squish your noise while giving her kisses. Despite the kisses being cold, hard, and forcing you to position your face weirdly they'll actually be quite nice! She'd smile in a way that would resemble her comedy mask (just with more permanent tears)

Zooble: You might have to ask(I'll expand on that). Can't really kiss? It'd probably be between their eyes if anything. They feel like those fake food toys (there's a specific brand I'm thinking of) Anyway the reason you'd have to ask is cause they don't really care. Not in a mean way but they don't see it as a big thing. Very chill about it.

Kinger: You'd have to ask. Again don't know how you'd kiss but even less. Not going to think about it too much. Nervous wreck. Still scared of losing another partner so this is a big step for him okay? I've never played chess or touched a chess piece. All the pieces look like metal to me, but he looks like he's smoothed down wood. So don't dude.

Caine: 50/50 on who asks. Weird fucking experience. Have you ever kissed a person's teeth? I haven't but that sounds uncomfortable. Very showy about kissing you. But if you don't like that he'd tone it down a few notches.

[impishjesters]

Jax-in-a-box Part 2

warning(s): suggestive/implied sexual content/language, potential out-of-character Jax (look you're just so big and it's distracting okay... let him be distracted and have thoughts), bratty(?) Jax note(s): I swear this wasn't intending to go down this route of horny rabbit man, but I was feeling some dom/sub vibe and it just happened I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm like this. A/N: I wanted Jax to feel teeny so the reader is at least 9 ft/274 cm minimum. Man, Pomni must look like a step stool next to the reader... Also, this would take place at some point in the dating stage. Also, this is the same original requester of the Jack in the box reader, thank you for requesting more this was really fun to write~ request: I’m just requesting a little story if your up to continuing that request. So what l’m thinking is just a little scenario of the reader completely coming out of their box for the first time (well the first time they were caught) Mabye the scenario has Jax coming into reader’s room unexpectedly and seeing reader chilling outside their box? Though of course you can do/write anything you’d like for this. I’d like it if you made the reader even taller, since they are actually standing this time instead of being in their box.

While being inside your box brought a level of comfort your bedroom couldn’t provide, that didn’t mean you didn’t use it. No, the privacy of your bedroom was used to stretch your legs—something the others, specifically Jax, hadn’t known about. Not that it was a secret, you just loved seeing it wrack his brain as to what lay beneath.

The box sat abandoned, lid wide open as you lay in the provided bed just a few feet too small for you. It’s not like Caine had expected someone as tall as you after all, you aren’t even sure if Caine is aware you can even exit the box, but you made do and got yourself nice and comfy to relax.

You plucked up an interesting-looking book earlier from Caine’s weird collection of provided reading material. Nothing risque sadly, but you can’t help but feel like Caine has never even read any of these and merely plucked them from whatever and just willed them into existence.

The next hour easily passed, nose buried into the book, so much so that you didn’t even hear the jingling of your locked door being forced open. Hell, you didn’t even notice until he said something.

The first thing Jax saw was your box, empty, his eyes shifting to the bed to see long legs dangling off the bed before he realized who it was. Well, of course, it was you, it was your room and it was locked.

“You have fucking legs?!”

You snorted and finally looked up from the book, Jax looked completely flabbergasted, and fuck, if only you had a camera. “Just normal legs, but they could do that too.”

Jax didn’t even have it in him to retort to that little comment, no he was far too focused on the fact you had fucking legs. He’d been entirely convinced that you didn’t have anything below the waist, it’s like that box had this weird black fog that looked like a void you were just coming out of. There are so many questions he wants to ask…

How the fuck do you fit in the box with legs that long? Do you sit with your legs crossed or on your knees? Do they just vanish into that weird black void? Have you been just weirdly seat-jumping around this whole time?

He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t even process that you moved to sit at the edge of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s not until you clear your throat that he realizes how close he’s gotten and wow, you’re just sitting and you’re able to look him straight in the eye. Is this awakening something in him? God, he hopes not.

“What can I do for you, my little cotton tail?”

You loved the dumb little pet name, he claimed to hate it and it stuck. If he was gonna call you all sorts of dumb pet names he was going to get at least one of his own.

Jax cringed at the name and rubbed his face as if that would get rid of the growing blush. “Stop it with the name would ya?”

“Then stop calling me Jack.”

He waved his hand before snorting out a “Nah”.

“Fine, at least stop calling me Boxxie.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s cute.”

It was your turn to cringe, he only called you that because he was convinced you were a box when you first showed up. A sentient box, how fun. “Was there a reason you came lock-picking into my room?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, I’m not a heathen to stoop so low as to lock pick.” he held up one of the many keys in his possession. “I used a key.”

A chuckle left you, accompanied by an eye roll. “Yeah okay, that I didn’t say you could have but it’s you so I’ll let it slip. Now spill cotton tail.”

Jax’s face scrunched up at the name again before moving closer, forcing your ankles to unlock so he could stand between your legs. “I wanted to see if you’d give me the honors of helping in a little mischief. But after seeing your legs I’m not sure if I wanna go cause mischief or stay and admire them in their spread-out glory.”

“The only legs getting spread are yours, cotton tail.” Reaching out you placed a hand on his hip, your fingers easily wrapping around him, your thumb meeting your middle finger on his other hip. “Who do you want to bully now? It better not be Pomni again, that poor girl doesn’t need another scare so soon.”

He swallowed hard, eyes glued to his waist and the way your hand just completely wrapped around him. You’ve done it before but in a setting like this, it just hit differently. “It’s not bullying, she’ll be fiiine.”

Jax cleared his throat and used the arm closest to him as his own armrest, you easily supported his weight as he crossed one foot over the other. He was trying hard to play this whole situation off, he was supposed to be in charge and you’ve gone and taken the upper hand without even trying. “So uh, h-how tall are you now? Ya know, without the box.”

That was a good question.

You gestured for Jax to step back and he did so hesitantly before you pulled yourself up, grumbling at the way your knees hurt from getting off the already low-ass bed. Truly a downside to being taller than the furniture here, something you didn’t experience until you started taking breaks outside the box.

Jax let out a string of unintelligible words as you stood to your full height. He knew you were big before but you were a lot taller than he thought you’d be, god his neck already hurt. Is this how Pomni felt standing next to him? God, you could just, break him…

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You tried not to look so smug, but god damn if it wasn’t satisfying to see such a thirsty yet bewildered expression on the usually smug rabbit’s face. Truthfully you weren’t too sure just how tiny Jax would be at your full height, he’d already seemed small before but now you could just toss him like a Javelin spear.

“I take that back, sit your ass down.”

“Make me.” You crossed your arms with a grin and simply watched him curiously.

“Don’t think I won’t climb your raggedy ass and—”

“And what cotton tail?” He flinched when you bent down to get in his face. “Can’t knock me down if you climb me, not that you could on the ground either.”

Jax chuckled nervously but didn’t back down. “Oh yeah? Wanna try?”

Looks like causing mischief would be put on hold for an hour or two.

[buttercupjosh]

Jump Then Fall (The 4 times everyone else thinks you’re Quinn’s romantic partner and the 1 time you actually are)

(Gif credit to @gabelandeskog)

Word count: 5,045

Genres: strangers to friends to lovers

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ve had this specific idea in my mind for about 2 years but never wrote it out because I decided to write other things first and took certain things from this concept and kinda put it into my other stories but after Quinn was named captain in September 2023, I decided to write it out. (Speaking of my other stories, I did write a Quinn fic in 2022, which you should check out). The title and this story is based off of the song, Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift. It’s set from this past week (October 7th-14th), with additional fictional elements added. (Yes, I decided to publish it on Quinn's birthday because why not?) It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“I was enchanted to meet you” -Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Prologue

Losing in a fantasy sports league can come with many different types of punishment, whether it’s being forced to eat a pancake for every wrong player you picked or putting in extra money in the winning jackpot. Your punishment for losing in the fantasy sports league you participated in was wearing a very 2014 Tumblr-esque “lol ur not Quinn Hughes” shirt that your best friend got you as a gag gift for Christmas to a Canucks game. This punishment came at a convenient time when you already planned to be in Vancouver for a work conference. Accepting your fate, you proudly donned the cringey t-shirt at the game, and as expected, people did look at you weirdly. What you didn’t plan at all was that your game seats happened to be located next to where a group of some of the Canucks WAGs were sitting. Lenasia, Ethan Bear’s fiance, noticed your shirt and immediately began talking to you. You explained to her why you were wearing such a thing and that clicked an idea in her brain. Lenasia turned away, began talking again to the other WAGs she was with, and was also frantically texting someone. After a brief period, Lenasia faced back towards you and told you to wait after the game because she had a surprise for you. You had a slight inkling of what that surprise was but silently hoped that it didn’t actually come true. 

After the game was completed, Lenasia led you through the tunnels of Rogers Arena and told security that you were with her. It felt weird to hear her say that, considering that you just met her a few hours ago. You stood together outside of the Canucks locker room and the feeling of embarrassment continued to rise within you as the guys filed out, some of them laughed at your shirt and then, you saw him. Quinn was right there, less than 10 feet away from you. Your suspicions were right; you would have just settled for a signed item from him and have no interaction with him but you were actually going to meet him right now. You felt like you were going to pass out but tried your best to maintain your composure. Lenasia introduced you to Quinn and told him the same story of why you were wearing a shirt with his name on it. Quinn didn’t fully quite understand why the shirt was such a big deal but agreed to take the photo with you. He was nice enough to wrap his arm around you with a side hug and being that close together oddly felt natural and comfortable for two people who had just met for the first time. After the photo was finished being taken, Quinn kindly offered to sign your shirt so he inked his signature on your right shoulder. You thanked Quinn and Lenasia again for everything and left to return to your hotel. It was a lot to process but you were rightfully shocked that you started your night fulfilling some silly punishment and ended it by meeting the person whose name is on your shirt.

The following day, you sent the photo of you and Quinn from the night before to your friends and your friends joked in the groupchat that if you played your cards right, you might be next in line to date him. Yes, you posted about it on Instagram and tagged Quinn so everyone knew you actually met him. Since the day after you met was an off day, Quinn had some time to scroll through Instagram and he saw your post. Seeing your post led him to see all of your posts and eventually, he ended up in your DMs.

Do you always look that cute wearing someone’s name?, an Instagram message from a very familiar verified account read. You couldn’t believe it and thought you were somehow dreaming when you read Quinn’s message but it was very much real. You replied back: I guess I always do but I only wear the names of attractive guys and considering this is my only piece that has an athlete’s name, I guess you should consider yourself lucky ;) It felt odd to shamelessly flirt with a famous athlete (considering that most of them wouldn’t give you the time of day anyway) but it wasn’t like you were actually going to date him or be his friend anyway (or so you had thought).

The flirty interaction eventually led to the exchange of numbers and to a long message chain between the two of you that would extend on for months. You did return home from your trip to Vancouver and maintained a long-distance friendship with Quinn. Your friendship with Quinn was great; you trusted each other, shared some secrets, did virtual movie nights together sometimes, sent memes back and forth, told some of your closest friends and family about the other, and communicated on the phone constantly. Once of your favorite things to do with Quinn was that he would always call you during your morning commute to work and on his commute home after his games to decompress after the game. Since you didn’t live in an area where there was an NHL team, your options for seeing Quinn again in person were limited and you weren’t sure if you were going to ever see him again. It felt weird to ask about seeing each other in real life so everything was just kept online until one day, the timing was right to move things offline.

————————————————————

About a year into your friendship, the right opportunity opened up for you to return to Vancouver to see Quinn again. To the delight of many, Quinn was named Captain of the Canucks and he invited you out to his first game as Captain. You were important enough to him that Quinn wanted you to be there to celebrate that amazing accomplishment; you were surprised by the invitation but excited at the prospect of seeing him again. You used some of your remaining vacation time and paid for your plane ticket to and from Vancouver; Quinn wanted to pay for something so he placed you to stay in the nicest hotel that Vancouver has to offer. You were thrilled to spend a week in Vancouver and hopefully make some fun memories with Quinn while you were there.

Your anticipation for seeing him was slightly halted when Quinn revealed that he couldn’t pick you up from the airport because your flight arrived at the same time that he had captain responsibilities to fulfill in the community so you and Quinn agreed to meet to have dinner later on that evening. Emma, Anthony Beauvillier’s girlfriend, picked you up from the airport to take you to the hotel; you had never met or interacted with Emma before but you appreciated her kind favor. The drive from Vancouver International Airport to the hotel (which Quinn did not tell you beforehand because he wanted it to be a surprise) was normally a 30-minute drive, which turned into an hour drive due to traffic. While you and Emma waited in the rush hour traffic, you talked and learned more about her, her relationship with Anthony, what things are like in Quebec, and what it’s like to be a hockey WAG. Emma had a lot of questions about your relationship with Quinn and was curious as to why you, his romantic partner, weren’t around as much before. You corrected Emma by telling her that you and Quinn were just friends and nothing more and you came to support him as your friend. 

“Are you sure you and Quinn are just friends because he must really like you a lot to pay for you to stay here?”, Emma asked as you pulled up to the Fairmount Waterfront hotel.

You replied yes, you were just his friend and she handed you over your room keys that were passed to her through the chain of command. You thanked Emma for giving you a ride and you both mentioned wanting to hang out with each other again.

Quinn was not kidding when he told you that you would be staying at the best hotel in Vancouver; your room had spectacular views of the Vancouver Harbor and was very fancy. As you got ready for your dinner with Quinn, you began to reflect on your conversation with Emma about him. You could admit that he was endearingly handsome and had qualities that you were looking for in a boyfriend but you and Quinn never really discussed romantic pursuits and outside of that initial flirty exchange when you first started talking to each other and the occasional compliment, there wasn’t much flirting really going on between you. You had always assumed that Quinn had someone, whether it was someone in Vancouver or in Michigan, waiting in the wings for him. Your thoughts were interrupted when you got a text from Quinn that he was coming up to the room. It was happening; for the first time in over a year, you got to see your internet best friend in person and you were ecstatic. Although he had a copy of the hotel room key, Quinn knocked on your hotel room door and a smile beamed across both of your faces as you recognized who was standing at the doorway. Quinn engulfed you in a long-awaited hug and you rocked back and forth. There were many areas in his life that made him feel delighted but hearing you laugh was one of the best sounds to him and holding you in his arms was the greatest feeling.

After separating, you realized that Quinn was dressed for a night in while you were dressed for a night out. The weather app indicated that a storm was rolling in so Quinn dressed to stay in at the hotel, order food, and have a movie night, while you were willing to brave the rain to try some of Vancouver’s cuisine. Quinn thought that you looked nice and wished that he communicated to you that Vancouver storms were no joke and you looking cute in your rain jacket wasn’t going to push him to go out in such weather either. He also really wanted to spend time with you without the distractions that come from him going out in public. You agreed to order in and changed into more comfy clothes while you waited for the food to arrive. Preseason hockey was over so Quinn decided to treat himself (and you) to some authentic Chinese food from his favorite place. As you and Quinn indulged on the delicious Chinese food, you began catching up with each other on what had occurred in your lives recently. As Quinn shared what had been going on his life lately, you heard all of the words he was saying but the only thing you were thinking about was how you just wanted to be together and you would lose focus sometimes as he spoke. You and Quinn kept talking so much on so many different topics that it was almost midnight before you decided to watch a movie. You settled on watching Ferris Buller’s Day Off before drifting off to sleep.

————————————————————

For Quinn, it felt surreal to wake up the following morning next to you. After being in contact with you for over a year, here you were, right there, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed. Throughout the night, Quinn was respectful of your boundaries and no lines were crossed, everything was kept PG. You were awoken by the sound of water running coming from the bathroom and waited for Quinn to emerge out. After he came out of the bathroom, you discussed the day’s plan (which there wasn’t really one) and decided to go to breakfast at a very special place. Quinn still had some time off before the first game of the season so you had even more extra time to spend with him.

On the car ride to the restaurant, you began to imagine what it would be like to live in Vancouver. Sure, this wasn’t your first time there but you saw it in a different light as you were gazing outside of the car window with Quinn by your side. You arrived at your destination and Quinn got out and kindly came around to open the door for you; it was a sweet gesture that he didn’t have to do.

The restaurant was the same cafe that Quinn and Petey tended to frequent and the wait staff at the restaurant was so familiar with him, down to the point that they knew his exact order: plain buttermilk waffles topped with whipped cream, strawberries, raspberries, and sides of bacon, potatoes, and guacamole. The waitress, an older woman named Louise, reminded you of an endearing grandmother figure; she even put your meal on the house as a treat. After the meal concluded and you were on the way back to Quinn’s car, a fan was waiting right outside of the restaurant for an opportunity to meet the captain of their favorite team. The fan approached you, Quinn’s romantic partner, to take their photo together. You wanted to correct the fan for being wrong but you also could tell that Quinn wanted to get going so you let it be; besides, Quinn didn’t even hear the fan address you as his lover. Quinn later on apologized for the fan encounter but it wasn’t an issue for you, you understood who he was and the things that came with being a famous athlete and you expected something like that might happen while you were together. You continued on the rest of your spontaneous day, being touristy around Vancouver, visiting Gastown, Stanley Park, and Granville Island with the cutest tour guide.

————————————————————

Your time in Vancouver coincided with Canadian Thanksgiving. Dinner is usually held at the team captain’s house and since Quinn is the captain, dinner would be held at his place but since his apartment couldn’t quite hold the entire team, Tyler Myers offered to host dinner at his home. It was exciting to celebrate a holiday together and learn more about each other’s Thanksgiving traditions but it also made you feel a little nervous because you would be meeting more of Quinn’s teammates and spending time with their families. The Canucks team’s Thanksgiving dinner was potluck style and everyone had to bring something so you and Quinn offered to bring a dessert. You decided to make pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and Quinn graciously purchased the ingredients for you and let you use his kitchen. Quinn was a good sous chef; he actually enjoyed baking with you and you both had fun together. You even got into a little squabble over who would wash the dishes before agreeing that you would wash them and Quinn would dry them. After the cookies were done, you both got ready for dinner. 

On the car ride over to the Myers house, your mind began to wander, contemplating about the domestic moment you shared earlier with Quinn and how you would want more moments like that with him. Quinn felt the same way but wasn’t sure how to verbally tell you that. Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination. You casually mixed and mingled with the other Canucks players and their families; as expected, some of the players had kids and the kids were curious to know who you were and you explained to them that you were Quinn’s friend. Tristan, Tyler’s son, asked if you were Quinn’s lover friend and you were going to tell him no but you were interrupted by the message that dinner was about to be served so you let it go.

Despite your initial nervousness about the event, dinner actually went well and your cookies were a hit. The other Canucks players and their wives and girlfriends accepted you well into their group; they liked you for you and they liked you with Quinn. Due to the fact he’s their captain, some of the guys pushed Quinn into giving a speech and he expressed his thankfulness and gratitude on such a special holiday; he even looked at you when he mentioned how glad he was to have the people in the room as a part of his life.

During the post-dinner relaxation time, you and Quinn settled into watching the CFL game that was on before Tristan came up to ask the both of you to play hide and seek with him and his sister, Skylar. The football game wasn’t that interesting to either of you so you both agreed to play. Since you were the guest, the kids had you count first. 

As you were looking to see where Quinn and the kids were hiding, you observed around the Myers home and began to think about how this was something that you had desired to have one day; a home full of love, laughter, and children. You checked the guest room closet to see if anyone was hiding in there before greeting Quinn by shouting BOO as soon as you opened the door. Instead of stepping out to help you find Skylar and Tristan, Quinn pulled you back into the closet and shut the door for a quiet moment alone. Quinn’s heart was beating super fast, not just because you inflicted fear into him for a brief second, but also because you were close to each other inside the dark closet. You obviously couldn’t see in the darkness but Quinn kept staring at the presumed outline of your mouth because he wanted pull you closer and kiss you so bad. Quinn almost had his chance to ask but was interrupted by the sound of children’s feet pattering on the ground and the door opening. Tristan quickly corrected you that as the counter, you were not allowed to hide until it was your turn to hide. An all-too-familiar chuckle came out of Quinn and you rolled your eyes at him since he was the one who caused you to break the rules before playing another round of hide and seek with the kids.

When it was time to say goodbye, Tristan and Skylar came over to give you a departing hug and Tristan loudly said that he had fun with you, Quinn’s special friend. It warmed your heart to hear his little voice say that to you. Before dropping you off back at the hotel, you had asked Quinn if he was going to stop and get his annual Thanksgiving apple pie slice from the bakery. He had mentioned his Thanksgiving tradition to you only once but it meant a lot to him that you had remembered that. Due to the fact that you made dessert from scratch, Quinn forgot to pick up the pie beforehand to bring to the party and the bakery with the pie that he enjoyed was already closed, but it was okay. Quinn didn’t mind skipping his tradition because he got to make a new memory with you. You and Quinn had such a good time at the Thanksgiving dinner and you had quietly hoped to get the opportunity to spend more holidays together.

————————————————————

The Canucks home opener was finally here. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking for Quinn; he knew that this day was coming but it felt a little more surreal that it was actually here. Quinn’s parents, Ellen and Jim, even flew in to watch their son receive his official captaincy before jetting off to go watch Jack and Luke at the Devils home opener the following day. You felt a bit of deja vu being back at Rogers Arena, since that was the place you and Quinn had met over a year ago, but that deja vu feeling came in a good way. It was fun to watch warmups with the other WAGs and you got to see Emma again. As warmups went on, you held J.T. Miller’s son, Owen, in your arms while Natalie Miller held her daughters, Scarlett and Scottlyn, closer to the glass to give them a better view to see their father on the ice. Since the day was very busy for Quinn, the only time he got to see you was for a brief second during warmups. Quinn’s heart swelled up with joy when he saw you at the glass, holding baby Owen and he also thought you looked so stunning and beautiful in your outfit. He wanted to pass you a puck but instead, he gave you a quick wink and passed a puck to a young fan with a sign and continued to skate around. 

Warmups were over and the game was about to start soon so you went up to your seats. Instead of having you sit with the other WAGs, Quinn got you a ticket next to his parents. Of course, Quinn wanted you to meet his parents for the first time in a much more formal way but due to the limited time that you all had in Vancouver, it was slightly more convenient for you to meet his parents while at the game. It was a little awkward at first to meet Quinn’s parents because you were just Quinn’s long-distance friend and meeting the parents is a big deal but Jim and Ellen already knew who you were because you were important enough to their son that he had told them about you. Ellen mentioned to you that she suspected you were dating Quinn because he spoke so highly about you, indicating a possible crush but always shut it down by mentioning that you were just friends.

When it was time for Quinn to be introduced as captain, you got delightful goosebumps on your body because you were so proud of him. You already knew he was captain but watching some of the old Canucks captains pass the torch over to one of your best friend’s brought a rush of happiness to you; your heart even skipped a beat as he put on the jersey with the “C” on it. The game itself was amazing; the Canucks beat the Oilers 8 to 1 and Quinn had a 3-point night. Throughout little moments during the game, Jim and Ellen would ask you different questions about yourself and share tidbits about Quinn; it was nice that they were actively engaging and getting to know you. You were worried that Jim and Ellen wouldn’t like you as a person and for their son but it turns out that they enjoyed your presence and it also didn’t hurt that it was really fun to cheer for Quinn alongside his parents.

After the game was over, you, Jim, and Ellen walked down the same tunnels to the Canucks dressing room that you had walked to over a year ago when you met Quinn for the first time but this time, you weren’t as nervous to see him. Still experiencing the high from the evening’s successful game, Quinn was so ecstatic to see you, waiting for him with his beloved parents. When Quinn had invited you to come to his game, he had imagined seeing you again in those familiar halls with his parents in his mind and that moment of imagination came true. In his post-game interview, Quinn had mentioned that he would hold onto the night’s memories forever and you would also hold onto those memories in your own way too.

————————————————————

Since the Canucks had to leave for a roadtrip after their home opener and you were leaving soon, you had one last day to both celebrate Quinn’s birthday early and also to do something to say farewell to you. Instead of just a big fancy birthday/goodbye dinner, you and Quinn decided to go out for a day on the golf course and out to a casual dinner afterward; you also had to run a few errands because Quinn needed to grab some things before leaving on his upcoming road trip. Quinn picked you up to go with him to drop off his parents at the airport so that you could see them again and he wanted your opinion on some things when he went to IKEA. The car ride over to the airport was fine and Jim and Ellen didn’t mind getting in some extra time with their potential child-in-law. You and Quinn stepped out of the car to help with their bags and give his parents a goodbye hug. While you were giving the Hughes family some space and waiting in the car, Ellen whispered in her son’s ear that you were a keeper. His mother was right and Quinn had known that from the moments that he spent with you, the conversations you shared together and you were everything he ever wanted. Quinn had the keys to unlock your heart but he just needed to use them. Throughout the entire time you were there, Quinn began mentally preparing himself to confess his feelings for you somehow but those plans always fell flat because the anxiety of not being sure if you liked him romantically lingered throughout the air and he was scared to ruin the friendship you shared. He was falling for you hard but he was afraid to take that leap.

With one final wave goodbye, Jim and Ellen left for their flight to New Jersey and you and Quinn continued on the day’s itinerary. Goodbyes were always going to be a bit difficult, no matter who or what you were saying goodbye to. Quinn tried to not wear his heart on his sleeve and be strong but you could tell that Quinn was sad to see his parents go so you reached over and gently placed your hand on top of his. Quinn told you thank you and you shared a quick glance with him before arriving at IKEA. Instead of immediately telling you how he felt, you and Quinn aimlessly wandered around the large store; you had mentioned to Quinn that his apartment was missing a floor lamp in the living room so that he didn’t have to use the overhead ceiling light as much and he took you to IKEA to help him pick one out. Thursday afternoons at IKEA were quiet so it was almost like you and Quinn had the whole store to yourselves. As you walked through the store, you and Quinn looked at the different room setups and asked each other what you liked and disliked about each room setup; you also both began to imagine what it would be like to share a home together. Quinn even absentmindedly grabbed onto your hand and your fingers interlocked together for a brief second before you found the lamps and slipped your hand away to look at them. You picked out a black floor lamp that matched the aesthetic of Quinn’s apartment and continued to wander around the store until you reached the cash register. Quinn didn’t try to hold your hand again and neither of you brought up that moment for the rest of the day. Your time at the golf course was fun; being the self-proclaimed golf expert he was, Quinn did win the game. 

Quinn decided that he wanted to have his birthday dinner/last meal with you at Moxie’s. While you waited for your food to arrive, you gave Quinn his birthday gift. It was challenging to get a gift for someone who could afford plenty and rarely mentioned what they wanted so you got Quinn a signed copy of Golf Kitchen, a cookbook that included recipes from some of the most famous golf clubs around the world, and a grill set that looked like golf items; it combined two of his interests: cooking and golf. Quinn was a bit taken aback by your gift because you didn’t have to actually get him anything; your presence and time spent with him was a gift within itself. He had mentioned it before but Quinn was so grateful to have you as a part of his life and he was going to miss you tremendously once you returned home. You would miss him so much and were sad that your great time with Quinn was coming to an end; you still had an extra full day in Vancouver before your flight early Saturday but the Canucks were leaving for Edmonton on Friday after morning skate. 

After dinner, Quinn walked you up to your hotel room and you and Quinn continued to soak up all of the time you had left together as much as you could before the inevitable departure came. Before leaving, Quinn passed you a signed warm-up puck from last night’s game, mentioning that he owed it to you. You held the piece of rubber in your hand, smoothing your fingers over his signature.

“So now, you own two things with my name on it”, Quinn cheesily told you. 

You were trying to hold back your tears and masquerade your emotions but you began to sob while embracing Quinn for one last time. Quinn felt a bit emotional too and he blurted out that he was in love with you; he decided to be brave and not let the fear take over. You thought your mind was playing a trick on you when you heard him so you looked up at the green eyes that were staring and waiting for a reply from you.

“Did you just say that you’re in love with me?”, you hesitantly asked.

“Um, maybe I should have kept that to myself. I’m sor-”, Quinn rambled.

You cut Quinn off with a kiss, something that he had been waiting a while to experience with you. You repeated that you had loved Quinn back as well. A long wave of relief rushed over the both of you; the jump was worth the fall and you were there to catch him. You didn’t have to say it out loud but Quinn knew that you would always be there for him. Quinn asked if you were available to come back to visit him for Christmas and New Year’s. Maybe losing in a fantasy league wasn’t so bad after all.

[rozeliyawashereyall]

Rewatching @obsidian-lantern vampire series

Eva and Sky my bloodsucking beloveds +a secret third thing at the end.

Click if you dare.

Jk it's just headcanons I made with a few friends on discord

@jaetists I'm doing this for both you and me bestie

For those who don't know I'm using "hon" to refer to the listener, because it's like, the only nickname we got from him and I refuse to use (y/n)

I. You cannot tell me this man is not touch-starved. Used to flinch at the slightest touch of affection, but give him time and he'll start warming up to it

Absolute cuddle bug he is

II. Ngl, he probably isn't the best at social cues since he can't rlly be around people a lot

III. Traumatized and probably a lot of abandonment issues

IV. It was suggested that he kisses minor cuts and bruises on hon, with hand kisses as greetings and goodbyes. Of course I had to include this it's adorable.

V. Frequently uses hon as a personal heater since never actually felt warm because he's always in the dark and because, well, he's a vampire. So he's very drawn to it.

Also switches between little and big spoons—but he's normally the bigger spoon. Mainly because he wants Hon to feel protected, but when he's especially valuable he wouldn't mind being little spoon.

VI. Ticklish behind his ears and ribs, good luck trying to catch him off guard though, your best chance is to attack when he just woke up.

VII. Stargazing dates~

VIII. Weirdly good at long division, but struggles with most other math IX. He has really bad blood circulation, specifically his feet and fingers, but what did we expect honestly he's a vampire. X. Nails grow with a natural point (like a claw), so he cuts them down. XI. Would listen to all and I mean all kinds of music, he’s lived through many decades. Also spends a lot of his free time watching crime documentaries. XII. Cuts his own hair lol no barbershops are open at night. Has probably fucked it up once or twice and cried. Don't worry Eva fixed it for him XIII. Has a strange fascination with old things. He loves going thrifting. He spends like 20 minutes in the clothes section, and a good hour and a half in the antiques. His house is covered in funny looking antiques, and gifts them to people whenever he sees fit XIV. The definition of “I saw this and thought of you so I bought it.” Expect many gifts XV. He really loves scary movies. And speaking of movies! He watches Twilight, thinks it sucks but sometimes watches it unironically when he’s bored.

XVI. He knows how to waltz~ and some other classic ballroom dances. Eva taught him most of them. He's also more than willing to teach honey how to dance as well!

XVII. Makes sure you've eaten and drank water daily—this includes medications ofc

Also just because he's a vampire doesn't mean he won't make sure you're getting enough sleep.

XVIII. Sky can indeed purr, with the reason in one of the doodles

XIX. he's definitely a hobby hoarder, his favourite is painting. I just like imagining him painting sunsets while brooding over not getting to see it (and probably honey)

Thanks @iistxrmyskyii @willowve01 @tiefling-chaos and @lightdragon789 for helping with the headcanons!

[voidaspects]

A rambling defense of Makuta Spiriah('s design)!

Here’s a very long winded post about a bionicle side character that I suddenly have a lot to say about

I had no strong opinions of this like an hour ago and I suddenly have a massive rant to go on!

Okay, so, Makuta Spiriah, the 2008 bionicle combo model, is regarded as one of the ugliest combo models made for the series, from what I can see. It’s hard to deny that his model is pretty ugly and unremarkable, when you first see it. The colours clash, the construction is weird, and there’s a weird extra not-matoran guy included randomly? I won’t lie, I didn’t have a very good opinion of him either.

However

As of now, this past hour, I have built this figure, and felt compelled to make a defense of his design, because we’ve been far too harsh.

So, makuta spiriah is a pretty obscure character in the wider bionicle storyline, and would probably have just been a footnote in the story, were it not for the “Federation of Fear” story serial, in which he was a prominent member of the team. I probably wouldn’t have had an interest in building him, were it not for me wanting to collect every member. With all of the component sets for spiriah collected, my team is now completed (pic at the end). And I was immediately struck by how much better he looked in person? Like, don’t get me wrong, he’s still weird and janky, and his colour scheme is somewhat hard to adjust to, and all of the things you’d expect on initial glance (botar this is not) but I fully expected him to be ugly as hell, and instead he’s a pretty competent and cohesive model?

I think there’s a few reasons for this, but the biggest one in my opinion is actually the reason I felt the need to make this post, because it’s one of the main things I see people talking about with this model:

I am completely, intensely certain that the other model on his back is intended to be part of his construction, and it seems to just be accepted as a given that it isn’t for some reason?

So, the reason I feel so intensely about this is that pretty much every time this model is mentioned, without fail, there’s sort of a fun fact about how “Spiriah is canon, but the matoran-esque thing on him is non-canon”

This doesn’t seem to have a direct source, so much as it’s a conclusion drawn due to how this second model is perceived. Specifically, the conclusion is drawn from: “there appears to be a weird, slapped together matoran character on his back, to showcase the matoran fusion function from 2008” + “No such character exists in the story” = “this part of the model isn’t canon”

And see, this logic treats the interpretation that this is a separate character as a given. Like… it doesn’t seem to be questioned. And with this mindset, yeah, when you put the models beside each other as individual things, they both look awful:

You’re left with what seemingly appears to be a weirdly shaped antroz and some extra dude made from scraps. But in all honesty, I think this is just accepted as a fact due to spiriah already being accepted as an ugly model. I instead want to propose this as my first piece of evidence that this is not how this is intended to be seen. But my evidence doesn’t stop there.

For instance, another thing worth mentioning is the fact that there is not a single official depiction of the spiriah model that shows the two seperated, from what I can see. They are never once shown on their own in any capacity.

The one single exception to this is this part of the instructions, which tell you to construct the entirety of this second model as it’s own thing, before inserting it onto spiriah. However, this leads us to an additional point, being that this step is in the middle of spiriah’s construction, before you’ve even attached his arms. If this was intended to be a seperate model, why would it be attached during his body construction?

My final piece of evidence I want to propose, relates to the notion of this second model being “an extra little thing you make from the scraps.” I think this idea is popular because of just how barebones it looks on it’s own. Like a weird afterthought. People rationalize this idea with the explanation that this was just to show the matoran fusion function that was being heavily advertised in 2008. They just wanted to insert the-matoran-on-his-back function and threw this extra thing together, right?

Except, having built this figure now… I don’t think you guys realize just how many extra pieces are left. Like, no, this wasn’t a bottom of the barrel little extra thing. They had three mask option and kept the head bare. There was so much to work with.

(Also, fun fact, the matoran-thing has asymmetrical weapon pieces, but both of the chosen weapons have a second version available that wasn’t used, meaning it was a conscious choice for some reason. I don’t have a point to make with that, I just think it’s kinda weird and worth mentioning lmao)

Anyway, my point is, I strongly believe there is NOT some weird non canon extra guy with spiriah. Spiriah is, instead, a model that integrated a full matoran build into it’s construction as an actual design element. It uses the motif of the matoran fusion function, but the matoran instead fills out his figure, bulking him up to look more cohesive and complex.

Now, whether this is intended to be just an abstract way to construct his design, or he’s actually intended to look like he has a person melded into him or something, overtly, I’ll leave up to you. The makuta are weird and mutated enough that it honestly could very well be the latter, though it’d be an awfully weird thing to go unmentioned. But who knows, maybe some poor matoran got shadow-absorbed nidihki and krehka style. Or something. Your call!

Anyway, I’ll finish off this weirdly specific rant by just saying that I think this really changed the way I look at some of these models. I think the vast amount of criticism I’ve seen of Spiriah is reflective of the fact that on a glance, he looks super unappealing, to the point that no one really wants to build him, and therefore people maintain these opinions without ever seeing him in person? Not to sound like I know better or anything, I would never have built him if it weren’t for my love of the Federation of Fear story, and up until this moment I firmly believed Spiriah was one of the worst models of the line. Jarringly coloured, weirdly proportioned. I’d have no reason to believe otherwise, had I not done this.

I just think that’s neat, and I also think it’s neat that I suddenly had so much to say immediately after building him. I still don’t think he’s anything special, granted. He could absolutely be improved. But as he is? He’s still pretty dang cool! Cooler than I think any of us have given him credit for! And I think that makes me appreciate him more!

So shout out to the biggest failure in bionicle history. At least someone thinks something about you is a success!

(Lariska model created by Gerou100 (unofficial fanon contest winning model) (it’s canon in my heart))

[m3nt4llyr4v3d]

Gonna ramble here about something that’s been buzzing in my head since the introduction of Beezlebub

Do the sins have children? Can they? I honestly kind of expected there to be hundreds of sin children running around. Exaggerating of course, but I’m kind of surprised there aren’t any ( that we’ve seen so far). Maybe it’s my basic ass understanding of the sin of Lust, but I’m a little surprised Azzy doesn’t have children (that we know of, I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if later they say he’s had 100s without him even knowing). Makes me wonder who could’ve been his lovers in the past, if he had any. ALSO I do want to know where their hellborns came from or if those hellborns would be considered their “children”

That also kind of leads me into my next point, just how old are they? Like, this is mostly a Bee issue, but it’s slightly an Azzy and Luci thing as well: they don’t seem that old at all? Even though Luci has been there since the beginning of humanity, he looks and sometimes acts as old as Charlie (I know Charlie is like 200 or smth but that kind of translates in show to being in her 20s). And Bee doesn’t even seem like she’s been around before 2000, at the very most the 1970s. I never get the sense that they’ve been around for centuries, eons even. What did they look like at the very beginning? How did they dress? What were their personalities like, because Azzy and Bee especially seemed to adapt to the times very well, so I imagine they were VERY different back then

Which kind of brings me into my next point, what are the sins? Who are they? Where did they come from, since there was no war (to my understanding)? What exactly do they do? What is their relation to each other, to humans? What are their relation to the Ars Goetia? Who even are the Ars Goetia in this universe? How do they affect the world, if they do at all? Also, how do they feel about the whole, humans are stuck in one ring thing? I get that they can’t interact with the Hazbin cast for copyright reasons, but it makes me wonder what they, in universe, were thinking when hell went to WAR with heaven because of shit happening in the pride ring, and if they thought about butting in at any point.

Also, how do they feel about the class system? I mean Bee’s hellhounds are the lowest class and are basically treated like animals. I get that an entire class system probably can’t be dismantled overnight, even if you (theoretically) are one of the most powerful beings in hell, but can they even do anything do anything about it. Are they upholding it?

I get that there’s 3 sins we haven’t even seen yet, so we’ll probably get more lore and worldbuilding when more of Helluva comes out, but it really makes me wonder. Despite me not watching it anymore, I’m weirdly jittery to see Belphegor, specifically to see what’s done for their attitude

[turlord]

> Finished watching Dungeon Menshi, so I needed to post…

Chilchuck x Gender!Neutral OC/Reader?

> Idk what I am doing so eh lest go

Be aware English it’s my second language, spelling mistakes are to be expected.

The life of a librarian isn’t as quiet as everyone will though, not at all even! Especially if you live on an island and your bookshop turned into an “all your need and desire” type of shop. Nothing sketchy though! Like, if an adventurer wanted a map, there it is, a notebook. In stocks, this specific spell book? Sure, why not? Maybe it will need a few weeks to be shipped here! That weirdly specific ingredient? All eyes are closed for the right price. By that time, this place had become more than it was supposed to be. That’s how the bookshop grew enough to merge with the post office.

Mail was a huge part of the island, especially for travelers and other adventurers who needed to send or get money for research, to send their studies off or just keep in contact with their families.

Most people would minimize the importance of a well-maintained post office but a special group of adventurers knew what it meant.

Strangely enough, as if thinking about them is a way to summon them, the group so freshly mentioned enters the shop. As always, they couldn't do it quietly, as if it was part of their DNA to be as noticeable as possible.

“- What a fuss…” The thought of dealing with them was already draining all energy from the poor shopkeeper's soul. “Kids, can you behave? Isn't a toy shop here...”

Was the owner old? It was hard to tell, the dark circle around their eyes and their carved cheeks could be proof, or just an unpleasing sign of them not taking care of themself. Taller than most people of their species for sure, wish doesn't help to get an age straight away, and being tired seeing the Touden’s party wasn't a sign of old age either, just being a normal being with common sense.

At least, that was what Chilchuck thought. He never paid too much attention, the shop owner was doing their job quite well, and the half-foot never had to complain so why should he bother? They never ask him questions too. There was this silent agreement between them to never be too intimate. Just enough to be good pale, who can go take a drink together.

The shop owner knew about Chilchuck’s family and his divorce since they played the role of the mailman, and Chilchuck knew the owner had been married before but didn't ask for more details about that.

Seeing the face of his friend's thought, made Chilchuck chuckle a bit, the poor librarian seemed to have lost any will to live when Laois commented on a “Monster cooking book”. The gaze he got from the taller being made him smirk, walking toward the counter.

“- Aren't they cute at this age? Uh?” the ginger snorts at the owner taking place on the high chair in front of the counter.

“- Ah yes, very cute…” The tired faces had a smile slowly blooming at the corner of their lips at the view of Chilchuck. “What can I do for y’a Chilchuck? ‘Asnt more place on my wall for a poster of your little worker thing.” The seller held their head with a hand showing the said poster on a wall with the other hand.

“- First, it's a union worker…-” he cut himself seeing his interlocutor rolling their eyes amused, they were just teasing him like always. “Second, the usual. ‘Got sixty gold to send pleas.” he dropped a pouch of gold on the counter.

Back in the day, sending gold would most likely result in losing it, thievery was common. The only solution was to travel to your home town and give it in person or recruit transporters, resulting in spending half of the money you gain.

Because of this, a lot of people would contract assurance to protect themselves from thievery, assurance that they will soon be throwing lawyers at the post office to pay for the damage made.

The post office needed to solve these issues or they would be a memory of the past, the stolen package wasn't something great for the reputation, but stolen money was even worse and with these assurances contracted by most of the clients, the situations became critical.

With a lot of trial and error, they thought of a solution by recruiting mages, who are specialized in Transfiguration. With this, they found a way to turn the gold into a simple piece of paper, easy to send and complicated enough to prevent any idiot with little magic knowledge from turning it back into gold and stealing it.

This is how being a mailman, turned into being a “mailmage” and becoming one of the most important jobs in a city.

The shopkeeper took out all the gold coins Chilchuck gave them and started to count. Of course, they trusted the half-foot about the actual amount of gold but it was a simple procedure, for the spell and paperwork.

For the halfling, something was fascinating, seeing the librarian counting each coin by hand. Witnessing these spiderly fingers making their way through the pile of gold, one by one. Chilchuck would constantly stay still, even holding his breaths during those moments, something was hypnotizing and somewhat calming. The light metallic sound of the coin, like little bells, the song the mailmage would hum, their little quirk of making piles of ten coins, aligning them perfectly. The way they count in a language Chilchuck had only heard here. One, two… at this point, he knew how each number was pronounced.

It wasn't his favorite part yet and still, the father of three was mesmerized.

“- There is four gold too many…” They put the coins aside waiting for any comments.

" Isn't four gold the price of the shipment ?" Chilchuck tried to hide his embarrassment, he wasn't the kind to like making mistakes, especially when it came to money.

"- Actually, it's three… Forgot how to count ?" The tail of the individual waved behind them, in amusement.

"-Is it? Are you sure you aren't killing your business with these prices?" He snarked back.

"- Uh, it's the standard price, but I will take your advice and raise my price then.." They click their tongue delighted by the exchange.

"- Yeah, in the meantime take it as a tip, for your service." The ginger tries to hide his smile with a faint superiority flare, waving his hand toward the bookseller.

The owner paused at Chilchuck's manners and the half-foot glanced back at them with one eye open... Suddenly, both of them started to laugh, at the behavior behavior. This student outburst attracted the attention of Mister Tim's party. Glancing at the duo, curious of the sudden laughter. Marcille started to whisper at Fallen who put her hand on her mouth, Laois glanced at Senshi who was petting his beard.

"- For real now! do I keep it or not ?" The tail of the shop owner was wagling with excitement.

"- Sure fine, it's a tip. Who would I be if I came back on my word anyway?" he shrugs even though a part of him was kind of upset about a lost gold coin for a stupid error.

"- Don't even know if I have to add it to my taxes or not..." Thinking of the incoming tax day made the shop owner sigh, in the meantime, they were tracing some magic symbols on a piece of paper.

"- Technically speaking, yes, you should… but you know…" The ginger waves his hand as if a fly was nearby, holding his head with the other taking support in the counter.

Chilchuck finds himself looking back at the owner’s hands, captivated by it. This was his favorite part, watching how all the signs intertwined all finely calligraphed on the paper. Each movement was slow, precise, demonstrating hours of practice. In a way, it makes the halfling though of Marcille, of course Chilchuck was looking at her when she had to trace a magic circle, but never would he admit doing so, that would be a free ego boost for the blond that the old man preferred to avoid. Normally he would share a similar thought with Senshi about magic use, but when it’s something as harmless as changing gold in a contract, nothing was holding him back from appreciating this practice.

Fast enough, the second he took in his mind was rapidly shattered by the voice of the shopkeeper.

"- Are you telling me to...?" They feign an offended look from Chilchuck insinuation but playfulness was readable in their eyes.

As a response, Chilchuck shushed his interlocutor, finger on his lips. He looked left then right before leaning toward the other whispering to their ears.

“- Don’t say that out loud or the IRS may hear you…” The Halfling was holding back a laugh.

“- Oh no… not them” The librarian shivered in fear putting their free hand on their forehead, dramatically posing for the shorter man in front of them. “What would I do if they come? Would you protect me Chilchuck ?” they looked back at the half-foot crocodile tears in their eyes.

A snort escapes from Chilchuck and his interlocutor laughs at the sound, embarrassing the locksmiths. Damn, could he not snort like an old man? He’s only twenty-nine… well okay he is an old man, but not like his brother who is an old man… Still, that noise was ugly, gosh. To get his composure back, the ginger rube his face with a hand, hoping it would erase his redness.

On the other side of the shop, the party gathered to watch together this strange display. Marcille was already imagining that Chilchuck had a crush on the librarian, Senshi simply responded it was some kind of “puppy love” since he still viewed Chilchuck as a young child. Both were debating on the subject, letting Laois be perfectly clueless about the situation, Falin wasn’t seeing what the two non-tall-men were talking about and Izustumi wasn’t having any of that, who cared about Chilchuck's love life anyway?

_____________

Hope y’all liked it and that it was readable. I admit I didn't know where to stop but I think its a good place to? Eh, if people want to following then you know what to do.

I'm open to all the critics, but pleas be nice…

[charmwasjess]

Stupid sexy the Acolyte why I am still watching you

Ugh, because it unfortunately rules, that's why. I don't know. On one hand, I still have all of my concerns about the portrayal of the Jedi Order and my absolute exhaustion with the plotline of "oooh, but wHaT iF the Jedi bAd?!" while offhandedly massacring interesting cool Jedi who are voluntarily and honorably living out their convictions as empty plot fodder. I am so tired. But I also keep genuinely finding things to like about the show.

I really like the big chunky boxy lightsaber designs. They remind me of my first car: one of those perfectly square Volvo station wagons. I think the prequel Jedi lightsaber designs tend to be a little industrial/ utilitarian, whereas Dooku's generation (in the few example we have, I'm thinking of his, Sifo-Dyas's, and Jocasta's, because those are the ones I've looked at too many times) can be a little fussy and overdesigned. It's cool to see how generations of Jedi riff on popular designs for their era.

The size makes for a big impact when characters do things such as hold the emitter against the head of another character, or as in last night, bring it up to someone's throat, because damn, that thing is a clunker. It looks so dangerous.

Master Sol. Master Sol. Master Sol. I'm not sure I have ever seen a live action role where the actor has more uniquely and specifically captured what I love about the Jedi in one character.

The scene where he goes down to reset the transmitter and has his little micro-breakdown after the "team is dead" bit. What an powerful moment. The amount of acting he did with absolutely no dialogue, no one else in the scene to bounce off of, just a quiet moment of grief, rage, and loss. I've read both criticism and rebuttals of Jedi acting - oh, they're wooden, no, they're accurately playing a person with a lifetime worth of trained emotional control - and this was such an incredible example of portraying a person with a lifetime of emotional control training realistically experiencing an excruciating, heartbreaking loss. You see him lose control, open himself up to the Force/self soothe, and regain it. All just with a sequence of facial expressions. Honestly, if I get absolutely nothing else out of the show and hate where they go with this, it will have been worth watching for that alone. It's that important to me.

And just - Sol. :') When he gives Not-Osha a big HUG? I'm such a sucker for Jedi onscreen hugs. Man, his inevitable death is gonna blow.

Aww, and speaking of death, confirmation that the Osha and Jecki vibes were really there. Just kill me. And I kind of love how Qimir phrases it, this idea that the Jedi she loves will never love her back the way that she wants them to, but also the twisty subtext there. Maybe this is me giving the show too much credit, but I got a lot of Sith-version of love "to love is to possess a person" vibes in the way he talked about that?

BUt ohhhhh nooooo ewww stupid sexy Qimir trying to s-seduce (?) Osha by being all sexy and funny and likeable and weirdly kind and not like a classic Sith. Pffffh. Yeah, he's going after the other twin now. Completely and totally expected. Oh, good. And now he's taking off his stupid shirt and his beautiful body is there in this dumb stupid scene. He loves to show off his awful muscles and handsome dumb face, as if anybody is interested in that. Presumably his dark side dong is out. Who would care about that? Not me, a scholar.

Whatever, who even cares about this show. CLEARLY I DO NOT

[manias-wordcount]

Hi I'm so sorry if you got similar requests and this is weirdly specific but can you write some nice heavy sebastian fluff and smut but make it like set in modern times and not at the phantomhive manor cuz I'm really more interested in seeing his demon self outside the contract rather than his butler self this is embarrassing but I'm really in need of some demon 🌽 right now lmaoo also with a fem!reader only if you're comfortable hope you have an amazing day love your writing! 🖤

Rules (Sebastian Michaelis x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗹𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛. 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 "𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆, 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝘂, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗶-" 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗲𝘀 "𝗢𝗞𝗔𝗬 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗙 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗚𝗘 𝗔𝗨 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗛𝗘'𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗔 𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗬𝗣𝗘 𝗙𝗥𝗔𝗧. 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧" 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗺. 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻, 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗺𝘆 𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗜𝗧𝗦 𝗦𝗢 𝗠𝗨𝗖𝗛 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗛𝗔

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!! 𝗦𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

All your life, you’ve known about rules. Social norms, moral codes- all types of rules. Some made sense. Some didn’t. Though with your upbringing, you found that the rules tended to apply to everyone else besides you. But you knew about them all the same.

  But if you had to say that it all started somewhere, you would have to say that it began with a tradition started by your great-great-grandfather when he was first starting university. 

  And then he passed it on to his son, your great-grandfather. Then, of course, it made its way to your grandfather. And naturally, your father as well once he was of age. Though by the time you were of age, things were a bit different. People could tell that it wouldn’t be a good fit for you. That it wasn’t exactly your crowd. A tradition you were meant to carry on. And that made you glad. You were more than happy to be passed over for something like this. Besides, your older brother was always a better fit for your great-great-grandfather’s prestigious fraternity. 

  Still, that doesn’t stop you from calling it the secret society that you know it to be. Even if their name is known and their house address is public, there was still so much left to the imagination. Just like it never stopped you from going to the university where it all started. A place with your last name plastered all over buildings and dorms and historical signs all around. No, it’s not something you desired to advertise. Not something you desired to have the world know about you either. But no matter how many times you try to keep quiet, there’s always something out there who recognizes your name and the family you come from. In the same way there always seems to be some frat brother- on the way to class or while you’re out with friends- to recognize you when you least expect it. To ruffle your hair and make a comment about your brother or to ask you how your classes have been going. And truth be told?

  It isn’t so bad.

  You’ve been a frat sweetheart- no, a frat princess- since birth. Being a member of the founding family and still living close to the school of origin made that more than easy. And so generations and generations of members have been spoiling you since you could remember. A different set of brothers to look up to year after year after year. And luckily for you, they were all real gentlemen. At least, they were as gentlemanly as college boys are capable of. As a little kid, you would show up to their outdoor parties and they’d also have little child-size snacks for you. And for the biggest and most prestigious awards, you won growing up? You could always count on a crowd of Economics and Business, and STEM and Communications (with a few stragglers in between) sitting in the back row, ready to get loud.

  Even now, you’re almost untouchable. No one is allowed to pick on you. No one is allowed to hurt you. Hell, you’re off-limits to date for the fear that someone might use you to get something that they wanted. And lord help the next person who makes you cry on this campus. Lord help them all. 

  It doesn’t change the whispers you hear about them. The discussions you see online. The rumors you watch get spread right before your eyes. In your mind, there’s not a lot of good associated with frats. There just isn’t. You’re not blind. And you like to think you aren’t biased either. With them, there are too many secrets to not hold concerns. Too many things your brother won’t show you. Too many things your father won’t tell you. And too many things your grandfather won’t let you hear no matter how sweetly you plead.

  But the despite this, you still somehow trust them. You trust your brother, and all his brothers and all the men before them too. Because you didn’t have to worry about scandals with them. You didn’t have to worry about fights in the front yard or a party gone wrong. No, because at every party you went to since starting college, you were there as your brother’s special guest. Treated with nothing but kindness and respect. Waited on hand and foot with a little extra annoyingly overprotectiveness in the mix. And every boy you ever met who took the same pledge as your father and his father before him and his father before that? They were nothing if not sweet to you. Especially…

  “Ah...Sebastian…”

  …him.

  “Mmm, not so loud love.” Sebastian purrs from right beside you. His body is so, so warm as it presses against yours. Your arms are circled around his shoulders and his hands have a tight grip on your hips. A cool breeze from a cracked window blowing against your bare skin now wouldn’t have cooled down the fire burning across your skin. But it would only serve its purpose to ground you every moment you spend with him. The roll of his hips. The whisper in your ear. It takes you away. It makes you forget who you are, who he is, and the fact that your big brother is supposed to be in the room down two doors down the hall. “You know I’m not supposed to have you here. You know I need you to be quiet for me when you come over here, right pet?” 

  Sometimes a little too much.

  At the call of such a familiar little title of endearment, you feel him pull out of your warm, wet walls only to slowly press back in and fill you up once more. Even though it’s predictable- even though it doesn’t catch you off guard, the tiniest of gasps still pour out of your mouth. It’s the only sound that exists between these four walls. He slowed his onslaught on your spent, spent cunt and has since demoted himself to a lazy, sideways fuck. Your moans have since stopped, but you just can’t stay silent. Not with his everlasting energy and his ability to keep just keep on fucking.

  Still, you find room in your focus to nod, earning you a more than a gracious pat on the thigh and a kiss to the nose. Sebastian is right- you’re growing far too loud. The walls are very thin, and this room is hardly spacious. A single bed pressed against a wall with another one on the other side. Desks and dressers and chairs and all sorts of personal items for each member who occupies the room liters the ground. But for now? The space belongs to Sebastian. As does your body. Your pleasure. And your mind.

  The scent of sex has claimed it as his ever since the moon began to rise. And your only job is to sit back and tell him how you like it. The same job you always had ever since the two of you started hooking up. He’ll take care of the rest. You know he will. He always does. 

  But now, he’s slowing down. He’s giving you your time to rest from the intense session he put you through today. And while your body appreciates the gesture after spending hours and hours being folded in half, fingered, fucked from behind, bent over, and so much more, you can’t help but grow a little bit sad. At this point, you don’t know how many minutes it’s been since the two of you started, but you both know that you’re running out of time until the sun rises. Because once it does, the two of you go back to where things were. To where things should be. He’ll just go back to being Sebastian Michaelis. You’ll go back to being just you.

  Because to the rest of this university, you’re just a girl with daddy’s money, a currently campus-famous brother, and long, long roots in this school. You’re a hard worker and just another student trying to keep up with assignments and your social life at the same time. People know your name because they know your brother’s and your father’s and a couple of the old men in your family too. People know your face because they’ve seen you show up on social media posts advertising alumni families and highlighting platinum-level donors. But that’s all that the outside world cares about. Because that’s all that the outside world sees.

  To the rest of this university, Sebastian is a resident pretty boy from overseas in the Business Management major. His impressive height and his handsome looks were enough to catch every at your small, selective university off when he first arrived on campus in the fall of last year. And the English accent he sports was more than enough to get everyone to deem him as both quality real estate and a fuck boy at the same time. Despite this, all those who you knew met him at the start of his and your brother’s freshmen year said he was charming and polite and all kinds of perfect mixed in there. So it wasn’t too surprising for you to hear that he was starting to become popular and that he was hanging in the same friend group as your brother.

  Just like it wasn’t surprising to see him in your living room one day as your brother introduces Sebastian to you as the newest member of your great-great-grandfather’s fraternity. 

  But that was a year before you arrived. And that was a year for him to learn all the rules and norms of the university and its traditions and its rules. That was a year for him to learn that he wasn’t allowed to touch you. That he wasn’t allowed to kiss or fuck or love you. Not while he still belongs to your great-great-grandfather’s pride and joy of a society. But it seemed he didn’t learn. He didn’t learn the rules. Or maybe he didn’t want to follow them. Whatever the answer may be, you found that you just didn’t care. You’re just glad he didn’t listen. You’re just glad he didn’t follow.

  Because if he did, then how else would you end up here, laying in his arms with your face pressed against his next and his cock stuffed up your pussy?

[adaptacy]

I know this might seem like a weird hcs to make   but if Johnny went to prison do you think he would want his s/o to stay with him or leave him to live a normal life ?

Hi anon! I really hope this doesn't break your heart. Sorry if it does darlin <3

If Johnny is getting arrested, if he's going away, he is going away for life. Like, ten- maybe twenty, hell, thirty times over. We don't even know how many people he's killed. And I'm no law student, but I'm pretty sure cannibalism and stalking and hunting them definitely makes those life sentences worse.

Point is, there is no way he's getting out. Not legally, anyways.

And Johnny more than understands that. He is NOT going to let you sit around dreaming about him when he knows he's gonna be rotting behind bars for the rest of his life, and then some.

The first thing he tells you when he gets arrested is not to wait for him. You'd be waiting an eternity. He tells you that he loves you, and that he's sorry, but maybe it's for the best. So yeah, no, he wants you to leave him. I mean- he doesn't want that but I think if he really does love you he wants you to be happy. It's not like he can do anything about it from behind bars.

That being said....

If he somehow, miraculously gets (breaks) out, he's hunting you down. Doesn't matter if it's been 6 months, two years, or fifteen years. He will find you. I mean, it's not like there's much to do in prison other than think about his life before. And that means you.

Sure, his tracking skills are a little rusty at this point, but information becomes easier to access the more that time goes on thanks to technological advances. And he will find you, eventually.

When he does, you immediately recognize him- prison has gyms, after all, and he'd need his muscles in jail anyways, so he's still as buff, if not more. He looks more rugged, clearly he's had a good number of prison fights. Not surprising, seeing as how it is Johnny.

At first, he's gentle. Asks how you're doing. Asks- err, demands, that you don't report him to the cops. He is definitely a vigilante, and a very much wanted man. Asks if you missed him.

And then he's a little more forthright. "Missed you. Thought 'bout you. A lot." It gives you butterflies, but you're not sure if you want to suffer through the heartbreak of him potentially being stolen away by the cops again.

Also, if you have a family or another partner, that's going to make things much more troublesome. If you accept him, you'd have to accept moving several states away from Texas and completely change your identities. And if you are with someone else...

Johnny isn't upset at you. He expected it. He never would've guessed he got free, so of course you wouldn't have either. But he doesn't really know what to do with his life if he can't have you. He hated his family- grew to hate the Sawyers as he aged in those concrete walls, realizing just how responsible they were for his problems. yeah, he's not great at taking responsibility. He had a lot of time to brew on that anger.

So beyond hating his family, you were what kept him going. Even if he'd told you to find happiness elsewhere, you were his happiness. So hearing that you are already with someone else definitely hurts.

He accepts it.

...

...

...

At first. And then he thinks about it some more, and he finds the idea a little ridiculous. You'd pleaded to stay with him, promised your devotion even when he'd told you not to. But now you were suddenly going against your word? Yeah, right.

He'd visit you often. Specifically when he knew you were alone. because he knew he could win you over and convince you with enough time. Eventually, he's taking you out to 'catch up', and then those turn into weirdly romantic dinners, and small gifts, and...

Oh, and he's kissing you. And you're kissing him back.

Shit.

This is gonna be tough to explain.

[astrolavas]

I'm curious about the serious reasons behind the 13-in-1 shampoo/shower gel headcanon

okay, so 😭😭😭 basically it started as a "he uses a 13-in-1 shampoo/shower gel lol" because funny + hunter likes his efficiency after all and it's practical, and so we also had an "lmao do you think hunter's one of those ppl who don't wash their legs in the shower" discussion with some friends, but then it just kinda... evolved into more??? cuz like, the thing is that YEAH, he probably IS. because he's never been taught.

i've just been rly thinking abt how hunter most likely had to just… learn how to take care of himself all on his own. belos didn't care enough to teach him abt the basics of self-care and hygiene; he most likely taught him only abt things that'd affect his performance or how hunter's "perceived" plus he added some things that'd make him look like a Good Caring Uncle in hunter's eyes, the bare minimum; eat, train, shower, stand straight, etc.. but when it comes to things that were "not visible" to other coven members or even belos himself, he probably couldn't care less.

like, hunter likely had to figure out HOW to actually take care of himself all on his own. he had to teach HIMSELF how to clean himself, without any clear instructions, navigating solely by what seemed logical or right to him; couldn't even ask or base it off other coven scouts, since his interactions with them were limited. he was in charge of when he'd sleep, and that defo didn't do him any good. he had to learn how to treat wounds and patch himself up, because he most likely wasn't even rly allowed to use a healer's services; but at least he had books with... that information instead, i suppose. that's something. uh- he had to do all these things, all while overworking himself and doing everything in his power to make his "uncle" proud.

just……… post-coven hunter slowly realizing that the little things and habits he does and always thought were right and how things are "supposed" to be done… AREN'T actually right…… seeing how differently yet naturally others do their daily self-maintenance routines and realizing just how deeply belos' neglect and lack of care for his well-being really went, how much it affected everything in his life. h

like. imagining hexsquad casually discussing their random routines/habits/practices and hunter saying sth he thinks is right cuz like this IS how he's always done this, psh- of course it's right! but then finding out that's not how most ppl do this thing… realizing- and mostly just feeling so embarassed… cuz god how couldn't he have KNOWN that, it's so OBVIOUS to him now!!!! like, that obviously wasn't his fault and he'd TECHNICALLY know that but this would just be another thing that'd make him feel alienated, "wrong"; another thing that'd make others look at him weirdly, with that specific kind of concern, even if only for a split-second……. gah

so yeah, just... thinking abt the emotional (and physical) abuse that hunter had to go through, and how neglect was also definitely a big part of it. thinking of the embarrassment and humiliation that comes from "not knowing how to do things right" despite never having been TAUGHT these things, despite not being at fault here whatsoever. especially since hunter was additionally also expected to grow up quick, to basically ACT LIKE AN ADULT his entire childhood; to be mature, to even play a role of a caretaker to belos. he was surrounded by adults but he was left to figure out all these basic things on his own.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

The lantern corps vex me so fuckin greatly because they sound, on paper, like an AMAZING narrative vehicle, like holy shit yes!! Give me a set of super powers that corrospond to emotions!! With green will being courage, the mix between blue compassion and yellow fear!!!

And red can be anger so that you can get lots of stories about the complex nature of rage with it's pros and- sorry what was that? All the red lanterns are evil? Like all of them? Even the adorable kitty cat? They're not fit for a story using them to show the value of anger as an important part of the human experience? Mentally tracked and dominated cult doing Atrocitus' bidding?

Uh, well that's disappointing, what's Orange then? Greed? Also pure evil? Strange choice but okay...

Yellow is fear, right cool, so we can have things about overcoming fear? Yes? Awesome, good- oh wait there's massive implications here that the emotion itself is an inherently evil corrupting force. Well. I guess at least there's some stories that do something good with it.

Green Will, again, pretty great as long as we have that courage bit in there. Strong stuff over all, but kinda... Lacking in a lot of areas that interest me specifically.

Indigo Tribe, compassion, love it. Kinda sad it seems like not much has been done with them.

Star Sapphires are love... Sure I guess, little close to Indigo but- oh what's that? They're a near non-entity set of purely female characters that are weirdly sexual in a way that is unmistakably a result of systemic misogyny in the comic book industry? Wow. Uh. Okay. Don't like that.

Black is death, oohh neat! A combo of all the other emotions in order to produce grief? A complex exploration of the ever shifting nature of dealing with the sort of loss and mortality all people- oh they're all evil again. Anti-life equation. I see. Maybe this one's on me a lil bit for expecting anything better.

White lanterns of life. Look my goth little heart was never gonna like this one, that's just how it is!

And like the other main reading of it that I know of is that they're actually the Seven Deadly Sins

Red - Wrath

Orange - Greed + Gluttony

Yellow - Pride + Envy

Star Sapphires - Lust

Green - the willpower to deny the sins and remain virtuous

And this one... Tracks both better and worse and is basically garbage if you don't believe that the seven deadly sins are... Ya'know. Deadly. Or bad at all.

It's like they're SO CLOSE to being something I would desperately love to write about, but all of them fuckin fail at reflecting the parts of what each ring is about that actually interest me.

I would LOVE to slap a red ring on Jason except that 98% percent of the canon makes that fucking untenable.

And I dunno I just feel bad scrapping literally all of the lore out of the damn things just to make them work the way I want them to? Maybe I should make the fuckin Kiln Corps with fancy necklaces of emotional super powers lol

Anyways, please feel free to ignore my bitching and moaning, this is very much a bunch of my idiosyncratic personal preferences grinding against this uncomfortably

[horangboosadan]

I CAN’T RUN AWAY | CHWE HANSOL [3/5]

synopsis: break-ups are never easy. even less so when the one you broke up with is a world wide idol.

genre: mini-smau, angst, second chances, exes back together, small secret relationship

wc: 863

boo talks

a written part. this is more where i’m comfortable than smaus, actually. i hope you like it, and thank you for all the attention this little mini-smau has gotten throught the past two parts. 

main masterlist

001 | 002 | 003 | 004 | 005

maybe it’s stupid.

no, scratch that. it is stupid. for more than one reason. not for the fact that it’s a movie you’ve wanted to watch since you knew it would be made, but for the very fact that it’s a movie. a movie where you saw the previous one with him. a movie you’re watching in a movie theater―a place you haven’t stepped foot since you broke up. a movie you’re watching specifically in the movie theater where you first met him.

and despite every reason you shouldn’t even go, you’re also here alone.

your heart pounds rapidly as you step foot through the doors. it’s hard to act like nothing as you walk towards the snacks and drinks section―ticket already on your phone as you bought it online. everything reminds you of him.

the snack you used to buy. the snack he used to buy. the snack you used to share.

it’s like seeing ghosts of your past self. from the first time you met where you locked eyes across the room and both of you knew you weren’t paying any attention to your date. from your first date where you sat in the waiting area, ate almost all your snacks before even getting into the correct theater, and laughed harder than you ever had before. from the many dates after, where you’d discuss your expectations, the directors, the cinematography, anything worth discussing.

from the time you were almost discovered because you weren’t as subtle as you hoped. from the time he had to leave in the middle of a movie because something happened with one of the other members and he had to be there. from that specific moment where you knew he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with―his eyes crinkled enough for you to know that he was smiling behind his mask and see the passion within him as he talked about what he expected from the movie because he loved the director.

the abundance of memories has tears prick at your eyes. you try for a smile as you find the courage to actually walk further into the movie theater. at best, no one will question it. at worst, the teenager behind the counter will ask you questions.

you make it through without incident. you pick out the snacks. the ones you like, the ones you’d normally share, and his―because you can’t make yourself not buy them. it’s part of your cinema experience. no tears fall and the teenager behind the counter asks no questions, though he looks at you weirdly.

you’re oddly proud at that moment. this is maybe the best thing you can do in the long journey to get over him. you know that you’ll never get rid of those feelings, they will be apart of you forever. at the moment, it’s only a reminder of pain, of the loss of something that once was  a place of happiness. but maybe, at some point, you’ll be ready to really move on and it will only be a reminder of something good. something you needed on your own journey through life.

however, as you walk past the waiting area, you know that that will take a lot longer.

because there he sits. vernon. chwe hansol. the love of your life.

he’s wearing a mask and a beanie, and would be unrecognizable if not for the very fact that you’ve seen him like that too often not to recognize him. not to say that the jeans and leather jacket doesn’t give him away, but you can tell just by the part of his face visible above the mask.

you swallow a lump in your throat. know that whatever tears were only starting to form whilst buying snacks are now falling down your cheeks. you just hope he doesn’t see.

and then your eyes meet. you refuse to stop, refuse to let yourself talk to him because you know it won’t do you any good. but you don’t miss the hurt in his eyes, or the crinkle that appears as he tries to smile.

the worst part about it all, despite your own determination to not give him a second chance, is that a piece of hope sparks within you. that tiny (big) part of you that wants to try again sparks to life thinking that, if you asked, he'd say yes.

your hope that he wasn’t going to watch the same movie as you fades as he walks into the same theater only a few minutes after you’ve found your seat. fortunately, he doesn’t sit close. unfortunately, no matter how good the movie is, you don’t manage to focus. all you can think about is the look in vernon’s eyes as you walked past him. 

when you get in your car to drive home, every part of you curses him for respecting the boundary of not coming close. you wouldn’t know what to say, but seeing him again for the first time since you broke it off, not only reopened all the hurt from those five months, but also all the good parts of those three and half years prior.