#we love playing in someone else's sandbox

[homestylehughes]

4 times quinn wanted to kiss you, and the 1 time he did.

pairing(s): Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: 4 times quinn wanted to kiss you, and the time he did.

warning(s): absolutely nothing, pure fluff.

wc: 2.1k

an: hi loves!!! before i say anything, i think this might be my favorite fic, i've ever written, i love it so so much. it was so nice to sit down and write another fic, I had the best time writing this. i know the poll i put out wanted the nico x Hughes sister smut but this idea has a hold on me and i had to write it today, but i'm working on that fic currently as well! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i do, like and reblog If you do! much love always <3

happy reading <3

1.

It had always been yn and quinn, quinn and yn, attached to the hip at 5 years old and neither of you wanted to let go. If you would have told Quinn that the little girl the jack pushed into the sandbox at 5 would be his best friend for the rest of his life, he'd think you're crazy. But here you guys are today starting the first day of college, together.

This wasn't exactly the plan for you guys, it just so happened you got into michigan, the same place quinn was signing to play hockey. 

Today was the first game of the season for Quinn, even though Quinn had played hockey for most of his life, he couldn't help but be scared to step on the ice for his first college game. The nerves are getting the best of him as they line up, ready to headout on the ice for warm ups. 

The first push on the ice takes away Quinn's voice as he looks around the arena at all of the fans in the crowd, his eyes glimmering with excitement as he takes it all in. his heart stops for a moment when he sees you standing in the stands with his family, dressed in his jersey, holding up a sign that says “number 43 is my favorite!”. Holding it high above you head, a wide smile breaking at across your face as look down at him skating on the ice. 

A smile spreads upon Quinn's face, as he looks at you and his family. At that moment he really wanted to kiss you. 

2. 

Quinns hands were shaking as he tried to tie his tie, his mind was everywhere else but where it needed to be. It was the day of the NHL draft, a night that would change the rest of his life and his families. He couldn't help but feel almost sick at the thought of moving to a new state or country, leaving everything and everyone he loved behind, including you. 

After five attempts of trying to tie his tie, he dramatically sighs, dropping his hands away from his chest. Staring at himself in the mirror trying to peace himself together, coaching himself to take deep breaths. Just as he starts to tie his tie again, he hears a soft knock on the hotel door. 

His mom had already ushered everyone out of the room around 30 minutes ago, telling everyone to give him some space. Quinn couldn't help but be annoyed at the fact that someone already was knocking on the other side of the door. Making his way to the door, his brain already settled on whoever was on the other side of the door a bit of hell for disturbing him. 

Opening the door slowly he sees you standing in the hallway, with a small smile on your way as you look at him. All of the anger he had harbored in him, immediately  disappears when he sees you. 

“Hi, i'm sorry to interrupt but i thought i'd just come check on you” she says 

“You weren't interrupting anything, thank you for coming and checking on me.'' Quinn says, pausing for a second clearing his throat. 

“I actually could use a bit of help, i can't tie my tie.” he says a little embarrassed 

“I can help, if you let me in your room, or we can stand here in the hallway whatever works best for you” yn giggles out. 

“Oh shit, i'm sorry come in '' he quickly says, his face heating with embarrassment. Yn quickly walks into the room, quinn shutting the door behind her. 

“Sit on the bed” she quietly says to him, quinn doesn't need to be told twice when it comes to her, taking a seat on the soft bed, leaving his legs slightly open, allowing you to stand in between them as she works on his tie. 

Their faces and bodies are so close together, his eyes catching hers for a moment. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to pull her on top of him and forget about the draft, forget about his future. Because at that moment, he really really wanted to kiss you. 

3. 

Quinn woke up to a constant banging on his front door, rolling on his side to see that the clock on his bed side table read, 3 a.m. “who the fuck is knocking on my door at 3 a.m?” Quinn thought to himself. Quinn trudging pulls himself out of bed, walking slowly downstairs hearing another round of knocking once he reaches the bottom of the stairs. 

Finally reaching his front door, he doesn't even bother looking through the peephole before opening the door. Opening the door he's met with a rain soaked yn on his front porch with flowers in her hand and a suitcase at her side. Quinn thinks he's dreaming as he looks at her, still half asleep. 

“You know i think i forgot how much it rains in vancouver during the summer, as you can see im soaked” yn chuckles out. “Also how dare you not tell me you were being named captain, I'm very upset that I had to find out through an instagram post. But I'll get over that because I missed you, so I flew all of the way here to surprise you.” 

“OH! These flowers are for you” she says, holding out the slightly weeping flowers in front of her.

“I promise they looked better, the rain…ruined them” she says smiling sadly at him.

“I'm so sorry i woke you up with the banging, my phone died and i don't have a key-” 

Quinn quickly cuts her rambling off by pulling her into the tightest hug known to man, spinning her around, as if he never wants to let her go. 

“I'm so happy you're here” quinn says, as he sets her down, his arms wrapped around her. 

“I'm so happy I'm here too.” yn says, looking up at quinn, he can see something in her eyes, love maybe? He’s not sure, but what he is sure of is that he really wants to kiss her, and it's killing me everyday that he hasn't. 

4.

They lost. They lost. They lost in game seven, their playoff run was over. All of their blood, sweat and tears couldn't help them win this game. Quinn couldn't help but let the weight of loss fall on his shoulders as they skate off the ice. The walk to the locker room felt like an eternity. The room is quiet as the players strip out of their gear. He couldn't help but let a few tears fall as he got undressed. Feeling like he let his team, his family, the fans down. 

Quinns mind couldn't focus during the press conference, giving the reporters one to two sentence answers. He didn't want to be there, he wanted to think about anything else other than hockey. He wanted to cry alone, he wanted the voices in his head to stop, he didn't want to be here. 

After the press wraps up, Quinn quickly grabs his things heading out the locker room, as he turns the corner he sees you sitting against the wall, quickly turning your head when you hear footsteps down the hall, making eye contact. 

Quinn had completely forgotten where even at the game, the loss of the game, completely taking over his mind. 

“Yn, what are you still doing here?” he asks as he reaches her, offering her a hand to get off the ground. 

Wordlessly she takes his hand, pulling his bag out of his other hand placing it on the ground below them. Before wrapping her hands around his neck pulling him down into a hug, Quinn's arms instantly wrapping around her waist, his body melting into hers. His face resting in her neck as he feels tears fall out of his eyes, as he clings to her body. 

They stand like this for a few minutes, quinn’s tears finally settling before yn pulls back, running her fingers under quinns eyes wiping away his tears.

“I'm so proud of you, win or lose. I'm so so so proud of you Quinn, please never forget that '' she says, holding his face in between her hands. 

“I love you” quinn mumbles out as he begins to cry again. 

“I love you more” she says, “now let's get you out of here, i think you need one of gina's world famous burgers hm?” she says, grabbing his bag from the floor. Holding her hand out for him to grab, Quinn doesnt waste a second before sliding his hand into her as they head towards the exit. 

Quinns head is no longer filled with thoughts about the game, about hockey. It's filled with thoughts about you, about how much he loves you, and how badly he wants to kiss you. 

+1.

Quinn can't count on his hands how many times he's been to the lake house during the summer, but each time he does it better than the year before. Making new memories with the people who he loves, making new memories with you. 

Quinn insisted that you come to the lake house with him a week before everyone else did, he wanted to spend as much time with you before everyone else got here, and you couldn't say no to that. 

So this brings you to where you guys are now, sitting on the boat in the middle of the lake, watching as the sun sets across the sky. The sky casting hues of pinks and purples across the lake. Quinn couldn't help but look at you as you stare at the scene around you, seeing you look so relaxed and at peace, he couldn't help but smile. 

“I can feel you staring at me” yn giggles out, still looking at the lake in front of her. 

“I was just taking in the scenery” he says 

“Mhm, and that just happens to be my face?” she says, turning to look at him with a smile that matches his on her face. 

“Maybeee” quinn playfully says.

“Well it's creepy so stop it” she says playfully rolling her eyes at him

“And what if I don't?” he asks

“I'll feed you to the sharks” 

“Pretty girl there isn't any sharks out here” quinn says laughing at her

“Stop laughing at me” she says, sending a quick shove to quinns shoulder, causing him to fall back against boat. 

“Oh that's it” quinn days before launching himself at her, pinning her down before his hands start to attack her sides. 

“ QUINN PLEASE NO” she pleads out to him as he tickles her. Laughs fell from both of their lips as they attacked each other. 

“I CAN'T BREATH” yn laughs out as Quinn tickles the skin behind her neck, knowing its sweet spot. Deciding to give in to her pleas, he stops his attack on her neck. Her chest rising steadily as he looks down at her, her lips slightly parted, the plump skin almost looks like its calling is name. 

Before he knows what he’s doing, he slowly lowers his face closer to hers, softly connecting their lips together in a sweet kiss. Yn kisses him back almost instantly, her hands wrapping around his neck pulling him closer to her. The once soft kiss turned hot and desperate quickly, a tension they've been dancing around for years, as finally broken like a dam, and neither of them wanted to stop. 

Neither of them wants to pull away, but the need for air begs them too, Quinn pulling away first causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Looking at her with swollen lips and love filled eyes. 

“I've wanted to do that for awhile” quinn says 

“How long?” she asks as he works hard with the hair on the bottom of his neck.

“Ever since i saw you for the first time” 

“Quinn we were five” she laughs

“I knew what I wanted at five,” he laughs, pushing a piece of hair out of her face. “And i've known that i've always wanted you” he finishes

“I love you” yn says

“I love you more” he replies

“I don't think you do” yn quips back 

“Let me show you how much i do” quinn says before connecting their lips back together, because at that moment quinn wanted to kiss you, and this time he did.

[jungkit]

what's after like?

sunghoon x f!reader genre: fluff warnings: none wc: 1,295

inspired by after like by ive!

for @bywons event! love u sruby

Sunghoon has been your best friend for as long as you can remember.

Your earliest memory is of 4-year-old you with 4-year-old Sunghoon, playing in the sandbox. 

A mean kid came by and ruined Sunghoon's sand castle. You didn't like seeing another kid cry, so you told the boy's mom. 

He got dragged out of the park, kicking and screaming.

You returned to the sandbox to see Sunghoon smiling, and that's when you introduced yourselves.

From that point forward, you and Sunghoon were inseparable.

You went through every stage of life together, even the awkward ones.

Of course, when puberty struck, you noticed Sunghoon becoming more handsome than you last remembered. 

Now, you didn't say anything.

Sunghoon was cocky in a playful way. You didn't want to stroke his ego further. 

This newfound attractiveness came with more people, especially girls, interested in Sunghoon.

You were 14 when he got his first girlfriend.

Not wanting to cross any boundaries, you stepped back, only interacting with Sunghoon when he initiated it.

That relationship didn't last, and before you knew it, Sunghoon became known as one of your school's playboys. Having a new girlfriend every month became a habit for him.

But you didn't judge. You didn't pry. You didn't do anything.

Sunghoon was still your best friend, and you didn't want to jeopardize that.

Today, you and Sunghoon are at your house, chilling. 

“How are you and Veronica?” You ask, messing with your hair in front of your vanity.

Sunghoon, lying on your bed, shakes his head before saying, “We broke up.”

Confused, you turn to him, “But I thought you guys were doing well?”

“It just didn't work,” he said, scrolling through his phone.

While Sunghoon has had several girlfriends, you haven't even had your first boyfriend. 

Being a senior in high school without even having your first kiss is kind of embarrassing. Then again, you've never been teased for it.

“Can you help me get a boyfriend?” You ask, taking the conversation in a completely different direction. 

“You don't need a boyfriend,” Sunghoon replies curtly, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“I know I don't need one, but I want one. You get to have a million and one girlfriend, but I can't have a boyfriend?”

Sunghoon finally looks up at you, but the usual playfulness in his eyes is not present. Instead, he almost looks angry.

“Guys are no good. You don't need somebody who's just going to play with your heart.”

You don't know why you're suddenly annoyed, but before you can stop yourself, you snap, “What, someone like you?”

Sunghoon eyes widen, taking in your words. 

You turn away from him, immediately regretting what you said, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean that-”

Before you can say anything else, Sunghoon leaves your room. You call after him, flinching as you hear the front door slam.

Tears prick your eyes, and you bury your head in your hands.

Great, now you just ruined the one genuine friendship you had.

The next day at school, you try to look for Sunghoon, but he's nowhere to be found.

You ask his other friends, a group of boys Sunghoon met in his first year.

“I saw him this morning, but he seemed to be in a pissy mood, so we didn't bother him. Did something happen?” Heeseung asks.

You sit at the table, telling them what happened the day before.

“Y/N, don't worry about it. Technically, what you said isn't wrong. Maybe it sparked something inside Hoon,” Sunoo says, touching your shaking one.

The other guys look at each other like they know something you don't. As you're about to ask what's up, the bell rings.

You sigh, frustrated, but get up, leaving for class.

The rest of the day passes with no sign of Sunghoon. In your last period of the day, you hear two girls gossiping in the back corner.

“Did you hear about Sunghoon?”

They immediately catch your attention, and you subtly lean back to hear the rest of the conversation.

“What happened?”

“Younghee asked him out during lunch, and he rejected her. Can you believe it?”

Younghee? You know her, she's one of the most popular girls in your school.

She asked Sunghoon out, and he rejected her, you wonder why.

From what you know, she's a nice girl. There's no reason as to why Sunghoon shouldn't have at least given her a chance.

Once the bell rings and your day ends, you rush to the parking lot to see if you can spot Sunghoon's car.

You see it, but he's already speeding out of the parking lot onto the street.

You sigh. He must be avoiding you. You must've hurt his feelings.

Getting into your own car, you drive home with a sense of guilt plaguing your heart.

When you get home, you see Sunghoon's car parked by your house.

He's sitting on your porch, head in his hands.

You park in your driveway, get out, and walk up to him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, slinging your bag across your shoulder.

He looks up, his eyes red, like he'd been crying.

You immediately bend down to his height, “Hoon, what's wrong? Did something happen?”

He shakes his head, “No, I just needed to talk to you.”

You invite him inside, and the house is quiet because your parents aren't home.

He sits on the couch while you go to the kitchen for water. 

Once you sit down, Sunghoon starts speaking. 

“I'm sorry for running out on you yesterday and avoiding you today at school. I just had a lot on my mind.”

“Sunghoon, I should be the one apologizing. What I said was too much, and I didn't mean it.”

He shakes his head, “You don't need to apologize… you were right. I do play with girl’s hearts. I’m one of the guys I told you to stay away from.” 

“But Sunghoon,” you start, “You're so much more than that. You're kind and caring. You put others before yourself, especially me. You're one of the greatest people I've ever known. I don't know why your relationships don't work out, but they don't define you.”

“I know why they don't work out,” he says, “They don't work out because I'm the one who doesn't give any effort.”

“But why, Sunghoon?”

“Because they're not who I truly want.”

You scoot closer to him on the couch, putting your hand over his, “Then who do you want, Hoon?”

He pauses.

“You, Y/N. I want you. I've always wanted you.”

You don't register his answer for a second, the words running through your mind a million miles a minute.

“Me?”

Sunghoon nods, “It's always been you. I know I shouldn't have used those other girls, but… I thought I couldn't have you.”

“Sunghoon,” you coo, “You've always had me.”

You place a gentle hand on his cheek, turning his head to face you.

His lip wobbles like he's going to cry again.

You press your lips on his, stroking his cheek.

He kisses you back, turning his head to deepen it.

You've never felt something like this—this amount of happiness and warmth.

His hands make their way to your waist, holding you tightly.

You feel his tongue tease your bottom lip.

Opening your mouth slightly, you let him inside. 

The taste of him makes you feel weak.

You don't want to pull away, but you need air, so you do reluctantly. 

“Is this real?” Sunghoon asks, stroking your waist with his big hands.

You giggle, “It's real, Hoonie. You know what comes after like?”

He shakes his head.

“Love. I love you, Sunghoon.”

He smiles, his fangs, your favorite part of him, showing. “I love you more, Y/N.”

i will be updating mafs today so look out for that hehe

[ganondoodle]

so guess what they released more interviews and i think given what a writing shitshow totk was and what they have been saying in all these interviews is actually painting a really bad picture; i dont have the time, nor the energy to go over every detail

but they were commenting on people wanting the more linear format back and aonuma himself basically said that he thinks people who feel like that do so only bc of nostalgia and "Why do you want to go back to a type of game where you're more limited or more restricted in the types of things or ways you can play?"

what .. the fuck, more freedom DOESNT automatically mean better??? like ... restriction can be a GOOD thing just as tooo much freedom can be BAD?? like in totk??? are you fukcing shitting me- what the hell are games even for then, has he had an awakening to the fact that he actually just loves sandbox games without realizing it???? im not playing fucking zelda for a sandbox, especially not when its advertised as a somethign else

its pretty clear that they want to keep this format going with everything they say there, ... maybe it really is over huh

also i hate how they kept talking around answering anything about story/lore; they go asked how ganondorf even connects to ganon since theres nothign about it in game, and all they got out was welllll we dont wanna say anything bc its up to the player; about every question you got the answer of "make somethign up yourself" which is just ... its really clear they dont actually care but dont want to say everything is meaningless actually, so they try to be vague about it and with doing that really just confirm they didnt think about it and they dont care- so no lore actually matters, nothing thats been said or established has any meaning bc they will get rid of it the second it crosses paths with their new -more freedom equals better- philosophy, they say its bc they want you to be "free" to think up anything but apparently dont realize that when there are no rules, no consistent lore or anything that it ROBS it, it stops having meaning, its fun to connect dots only when there are rules you need to work with and dots to connect in the first place, when you have an established world with its restrictions it drives you to think more creatively about things- but when there are no rules?? its fucking boring!! thats what it is!!

when you discard all rules i wont care to get invested into anything bc i know it will not be considered again, be done away with without any reason and wont have influence on coming or previous games ... bc there are no rules, anything is possible and everything can be changed any second, so nothing matters

(they also talked about the many viral videos of those very few dedicated people that make godzilla mechs in totk and how happy they are about that- i get that to some extent, but the way they kept talkign about it really just felt like it confirmed my suspicion that that whole mechanic was mainly implemented to let people do that since that gets shared around en masse making it seem like that is why people enjoy it while neither the game nor the narrative are build around it in any way ..)

it just makes all the time i spend thinking, feeling and theorizing about zelda like a true waste of time, bc nothing matters and there are no rules-

i am someone who greatly enjoys working with and around established lore/rules, its fun to me to recontextulize things by being smart or creative with it all without breaking anything or as little as possible of the established things!

if i wanted to do just do anything i want I COULD HAVE ALREADY DONE THAT bc theres nothing actually stopping anyone to just make up what they want! i DONT need canon to lose all rules for that??!!

maybe ill have to make myself believe the franchise ended with botw on a good note ... ono

[writing-for-life]

Ok, I’m not going to get involved in a certain thread because I don’t want any drama and the line of argumentation leans too much to one side already (the views of the vocal majority in this fandom) for it to make much sense to contribute, but I had a few thoughts today:

In a fandom where people write AUs full of cows and merpeople and other shenanigans that have nothing to do with canon (or the actual characters, to be frank), they can’t do that for Calliope (or any other female character, for that matter)?

She doesn’t get to play in the sandbox?

We don’t have the imagination to turn her into one of the two dolls that kiss?

We have to keep her in character while everyone else can be turned into… whatever person (certainly neither the one of the comics nor the show)?

We constantly have to remember her strife and trauma and can’t invent (!, that’s what writing is about!) a different or new side to her? Or a better future? One in which she gets to be happy?

Or we can’t turn her into someone she canonically isn’t?

While all of this always, always works for Dream? Or the hairy guy?

And speaking of said guy: Do we have any reason to think Dream would treat him better than Nada? We’re automatically assuming he’d do the same thing to Calliope, but not to him? Or: Why do we assume he would do what he did to Nada to any other love interest, because canonically, there’s no evidence for that (we wrote about this on here before)? So no, that line of argument just doesn’t fly in my view.

If Calliope and Dream have chemistry and people are able to acknowledge it (which most do), that on its own is enough to ship them. The chemistry argument works with every M/M ship. Why doesn’t it work with her?

Oh, she is allowed in gen fics (and I am a fan of those btw, but that’s past the point), or as a character with very little agency, or any personal or sexual desires. Even better if she serves the ship. That’s okay of course, I forgot. Reminds me of most of the women of the Sandman—I wonder why.

I just wish people would give the honest reason without going through all the mental gymnastics of why Dreamuse is not an interesting (or even bad or problematic) ship, and the other one is the best invention since sliced bread:

They want to see/imagine two guys together.

There, I said it, it wasn’t hard. It’s really as simple as that in fandom, it’s a predictable fantasy, and it’s the same in every fandom. The Sandman isn’t any different.

M/F ships are frowned upon because they’re “heteronormative”, and yet, (mostly) women proceed to project (mostly) heteronormative relationship dynamics on two guys of which they fancy at least one and use the other to project themselves on. Sometimes, they fancy both of them and get more of what they have the hots for. Good for them, there’s nothing wrong with it. We have oodles of research by now why some women prefer M/M porn; it’s not earth-shattering, groundbreaking or “queer-positive” (it sometimes fetishises homosexuality though, but that’s a different topic). It’s been like that since at least the times of Spirk, and probably longer. It’s actually a fairly (dare I utter the word on here?) straight female sexual fantasy. The queer-positivity everyone is so enamoured with is more than, and not singularly limited to, shipping M/M—as a bisexual woman, I personally can’t identify with that line of thinking at all, but other people’s mileage might vary…

If people are into smutty/explicit fanfic , that’s just how it works: Some women project on a female body while imagining to get railed by a guy, others prefer to imagine two guys because they fancy men. Again: Nothing wrong with it, but it’s also not as deep as people often pretend it is.

Yes, I wrote about that one before as well. That’s why I can do it again—“once your reputation is ruined” and all that 🤣

It’s ok to be horny for two guys without turning it into a brain-contorting statement every time.

It’s also okay to reflect on the wider implications of completely erasing women from EVERY fandom, especially if you identify as one.

Edited on May 27 since it’s obviously necessary:

If people’s main takeaway from this post is that it’s about criticising fetishising homosexuality, they clearly have a reading comprehension problem and should read it again. “Sometimes” doesn’t mean “always”, plus it wasn’t even a main point. I even said that fancying m/m is a fairly middle-of-the-road-fantasy, and that there’s nothing wrong with it. The internalised misogyny that shows in people who think they are “saving women from men” by completely erasing them from the narrative and only centering men is a different topic, but these two things aren’t the same.

If people’s main response to this post is, “Then write your own stuff,” they also have a reading comprehension problem and did not get at all what this is about. It’s also the slightly old getting standard response to anything that invites critical thinking, but that one isn’t all that surprising anymore. The assumption people aren’t writing their own stuff is also a bit… silly? But I imagine that misconception is down to the fact that those people never check any tags beyond one or two, and certainly never any that involve female characters. [And to say it quite frankly: That some people wrote verbatim, “If you want Dream and Calliope to fuck so badly, write it yourself,” just shows me that they’re incapable of viewing anything but through a sex/smut lens. Good for you, kids, your world sounds so exciting *slow clap*. But maybe don’t project your thirst on everyone else.]

Some people in the OP this was about even made good points, and I didn’t criticise any of those because they are true.

This post is about the double standards people apply when they say why one ship (m/m) is more successful than the other (m/f):

Trauma? Never a problem when it’s Dream.

Relationship that somehow “shouldn’t work”? Never a problem in tropes like enemies to lovers and many others that are totally used for thee ship. Or with two people (read: men) they really want to see together.

Bending a character beyond recognition or giving them a totally different backstory, because that would solve the “relationship has run its course”-issue? Never a problem with the two guys who can be anything from a cow to a mafia boss. But the women? Nope, we have to remember their trauma and strife, keep them exactly as in the source material and protect their sacredness by completely ignoring them.

Still don’t get that this is not about a ship per se but the erasure of all women from stories bar being cheerleaders for thee m/m ship in some way? Okay, then that one’s really beyond anything I can explain, although I think some people just like to consciously misrepresent stuff or really don’t do anything but skim-read. That’s not on me I guess…

[chronicbeans]

Human Illustrator Wally x Reader (part 5)

Circle time! Yippee!

TW: Mentions of Hallucinations

🐻 You can't help but grin as you watch Mr. Darling sitting with all of the children, talking about the most random of things. From bears to apples, the conversation flings itself from topic to topic. When Mr. Darling starts to take out random items he has brought for the children to play with, it almost feels like watching Mary Poppins. His little bag of items seems to fit an endless amount of luggage.

🐻 He looks around, being sure to make sure everyone understands what he says. He is careful to assure every child's needs are met. It might've taken a lot of planning to get him here, but it was all worth it. The kids are happy and feel cared for. You are happy to have finally found someone else with a passion for making every child feel appreciated. Mr. Darling seems happy to make others feel happy.

🐻You watch as he talks to Amelia, one of the numerous children circled around him, before he lets her touch his hair. You chuckle at her shocked reaction, hearing her say something along the lines of "It's like a shell!", with Mr. Darling saying "It's from the stuff I use to style it. I need my hair to look the absolute most!"

🐻 You turn your attention away for a moment, noticing that one of the kids is sitting alone at the table, simply watching the others. It's James, the kid that you were talking to Howdy about the other day. As in, the one who had the head injury. You sit next to him, smiling "Is there something you need?"

🐻 James looks up to you, before whispering "I... I want to talk to Wally... but I feel like he'll think I'm weird. Umm... I am also worried for him. The scary monster is behind him." You smile, nodding. "The scary monster won't hurt Mr. Darling. How about I go ask him if you can talk to him outside, in the play area? That way, he will be away from the scary monster, and you get to talk with him. I am sure he won't think of you as weird." "Only if you go with." "Alright. I'll go ask him now."

🐻 You stand up, grinning as you approach the group of children. "Mr. Darling? Can you come over here for a moment?" "Sure thing! Just a moment!" He picks up Amelia, who giggles and waves her arms, then stands up. The kids watch as he leaves, only for him to turn around and say "Oh! Just in case I take long, you can go through my bag. I didn't bring anything important. It's just stuff I brought for you all to play with. Be sure to share, though!" Needless to say, the kids swarmed to his bag like birds to breadcrumbs.

🐻 He turns back around, walking over to you as he asks "What is it? Do you need something?" You nod, bringing him over to James. "Yep! Mr. Darling, this is James. He wants to talk to you, but feels a bit anxious to do so. We both were wondering if it would be alright if the three of us went to the play area out back to talk privately." He grins, clasping his hands together as he says "Of course! That will be no problem at all! Just lead the way, (Y/N)!"

🐻 The three of you all walk to the play area in the backyard of the daycare, James looking behind you all from time to time. The play area is small, with a little playhouse, a sandbox, and a swing set connected to a slide. Once outside, Mr. Darling crouches down to his height, shaking his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, James! Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" James nods.

🐻"Yeah... umm... I was wondering, do you umm... Are you like me? I mean... I am a bit nervous to ask." James looks down, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. Mr. Darling smiles, tilting his head. "It is alright. Take your time. How about this? I'll ask you some questions to ease you into your own! Did anything particular make you curious if I have anything in common with you?" James nods "Yeah. I saw how you and Aubrey related in being autistic. As well as how you and a few of the others talked about loving art."

🐻 James looks around, which Mr. Darling seems to notice. He begins to look around, too. He then smiles, as if catching on. "Okay, I'll ask another question, since you don't seem to be ready, yet. Do you like to draw?" James, once again, nods. This time, it is much more enthusiastic. He reaches into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a tiny notepad. "Yeah! Let me show you some! It isn't anything close to what you can do, but I hope to get that good someday!" James shows the notepad to him, revealing drawings of cute bears, rainbow swirls, and dark monsters. Mr. Darling nods, staring at the images as he says "This is amazing work! Believe it or not, but when I was your age, I had this exact amount of skill. I believe you and I have more in common than you think."

🐻 James' eyes gleam, before he then looks down to his feet. "Hey, Wally...? Umm... do you see the odd things others don't? Or hear things others don't?"

🐻 You watch them both closely. Mr. Darling seems to think over his answer, before finally coming up with one. "Yes, I do. I mostly hear odd things, but I do see them, sometimes. Is that what you wanted to ask about?" James looks up to him, nodding. "Yeah... can I... can I ask some more?" "Of course. Anything you want." "Do you see the shadow man? The mean guy that says mean things? I believe he is quite mean. Have you met him?"

🐻 To your shock, Mr. Darling's smile falters for a brief second. It returns as soon as it left, however, before he hands James his notepad. "I don't see the shadow man very often. I do, however, have a pesky neighbor of my own. Do you want to know who it is?" James hesitates, before responding "Yeah. I feel like it might help you to talk about that mean neighbor."

🐻 Mr. Darling leans in, speaking very quietly to James. You still hear what he says, though, you are not sure if you were meant to. "The walls of my very own home say mean things to me, sometimes."

[separatist-apologist]

What's nice about being in a small ship with limited content is we all have our own ideas about what might happen and how it could all go down. It's just fanon at this point- wondering how they might fall in love, what the catalyst for their story will be, the dynamics, etc etc. And you can draw inferences from what little we do have, but there is a big sandbox to play in.

All that to say, your interpretation of the text is not the bible- and if you don't like someone else's interpretation of what they read, feel free to just not engage. There's no need to beat folks over the head with your fanon theories when we all want the same thing

[bluecatwriter]

A Blood of My Blood fic from Mina's point of view, taking place when Quincey is 11 or 12. (Domestic angst/fluff, pretty bittersweet.) Thanks as always to @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush for creating this sandbox for us to play in!

~~~

At one time, the broth she was making would have smelled wonderful to her.

It was odd, to be able to think such things. When she had first awoken, years ago, snarling and disoriented and in the grip of someone— someone who had turned out to be her husband— she had no memory of Before. It had taken years for these memories of a different life, a different self, to return. She didn't particularly strive for them, since there was no sense in dwelling on her past, but sometimes they cropped up at odd moments. She had just dropped into the broth a handful of parsley and lovage, both from the herb garden her husband had grown in the courtyard of the castle, and something about the fragrant waft of steam gave her a memory. Yellow sunlight on a wall, humming some long-forgotten tune. Warmth. Memories of Before were always warm.

She had no desire to eat what she was cooking, though— the very thought turned her stomach. Usually her husband cooked for himself, but today he could not, and so she had found a recipe and made it step by painstaking step: slaughtering and plucking the chicken, boiling it once for the meat and a second time for the broth, adding paprika and cayenne and a pinch of precious dried lemon peel, brought by the serfs on their last delivery. Like all tasks, she went about it methodically. It was only a few days after the winter solstice, so the night was long and she had plenty of time to work.

She felt her son's presence before she saw him, and smiled as he popped his head in the window, upside down. He had been crawling lizard-fashion on the castle walls again. "Hello, Mum!" he said cheerfully.

She loved that her son had inherited her husband's ability to change and grow. His face was losing the chubby roundness of childhood, and he was growing lankier, though still just as skillful at skittering around the castle walls. 

Where have you been all evening? she asked as she stirred the broth, projecting her thoughts to him.

"Sitting with Papa and reading to him," her son said, crawling into the window and hopping up on the stone counter. His expression faltered, his red eyes growing wide with worry. "He's… he's going to be all right, isn't he?"

Of course he is. My broth will cure him. She winked at him, and he laughed.

"I wish Papa didn't get sick! Why can't he be like us? It would be so much easier…"

She gave him a look, and he sighed. "I know, I know, if he was like us, we couldn't kiss him, and he likes kisses too much to change."

It was a silly explanation, left over from her son's early days when he was just starting to question why Papa was different. But she felt a strange reluctance to update the explanation.

She stirred the broth once more and decided that it would need to simmer now. Go back to your papa— he'll be lonely without you.

"All right, Mum." Her son left by the door this time, no doubt to grab a new book from the library on his way up to the room.

She walked to the window, looked out, and let her mind go blank.

It was easy to do, to think nothing at all, while staring at the midnight draped over the world. She could still touch her son's mind, feel vague emotions from him, as well as feel her husband's suffering as he tossed and turned on his bed, his fever burning him up.

Most of all, though, crackling like fire over everything else, was the mind of her lord.

She was not allowed to enter his thoughts— she had tried, once, early on, and he had chained her to a wall for three weeks as punishment, keeping her from her husband and her son until the ache of wanting them made her tear her flesh down to the bone trying to break free. She could not overpower him. She could not enter his thoughts without him noticing.

But here in the blankness, the fire of his mind seemed less harsh, and she tried out small thoughts, inconsequential thoughts, seeing if he would notice them. Seeing if he could truly rummage through everything in her mind, or if anything was hers to keep.

Of course, her lord considered nothing to be hers, and he made sure she was reminded at every turn. When they dined together on her husband, her lord made sure to eat first, to make her follow, to assure that she made no mark on him that he had not already made. And yet, she found a smug satisfaction in this, that her lord never left a mark that she did not erase with her own touch. Her husband would be still and dutiful at their lord's bite, but he melted against her own. Her lord has ultimate authority over them both, but her husband was still hers.

At last the broth was ready, and she focused her mind, imagined knocking on a door in the wall of flames. May I visit him? It was a formality at this point— her lord had not kept them apart in over three years now— but she knew that not doing it would have consequences.

The reply sounded almost bored. You may.

She dipped some broth into a large bowl and left the rest simmering on the hot stove. She walked up the endless stairways to the tower where he lived, knowing that she must not waste her energy on things like turning into mist, not when she must fast from the nourishment he gave her.

At last she came to his door and opened it. There was no lock on it, for her husband belonged in some way to everyone in the household. No one was barred access.

Her son was sitting beside him reading aloud, but closed the book when she entered. Her husband turned his head weakly, and she felt a ripple of frustration at the frailness of his body, the way that it was endangering him needlessly. She ordered her son to leave them alone, and he nodded, taking his father's wrist and giving it a bloodless bite to show affection before walking out.

She walked to his bedside and sat beside him, sliding an arm under him to pull him up. He shivered and had a hard time drinking the broth, but she made him take it, sip by sip. He sagged against her, and she stroked his forehead.

"My darling," he said, stuttering a bit with his shivers. "I think I'm dying."

If you must die, you must. It would happen eventually— he would rise again like them, without this pathetic body to drag him down.

"I— I don't want to. I want to raise our boy to manhood without…" He trailed off, but she knew his meaning.

We will be together. That is all that matters.

Her husband stared at her, and tried to smile. "You're right, you're right."

She hesitated, then situated them on the bed so that his head was resting on her lap, and she stroked her fingers through his hair. If it brings you comfort, you may close your eyes and pretend that I am a mortal woman. Pretend it is Before, and all the After has been a dream. 

Her husband gulped. It had been a long time since she had soothed him this way. "I… I shouldn't…"

She frowned at him. Do not refuse me. 

A faint smile of acceptance crossed his face, and he rested more deeply on her lap. 

When you wake, she told him, weaving her fingers into the fine strands of his hair, you will either be well, or you will be like me. And either way, we will be together.

Her husband squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling down his fever-flushed face. "Will… will you say my name as you stroke my hair?"

She smiled down at him indulgently. Jonathan.

"Mina…"

My Jonathan… The urge to sink her teeth into him, to express her love in lapping up his essence, was strong, but she was stronger. She petted his hair and spoke his name in her thoughts, playacting the doting human wife who had no loyalty to any but him.

Her husband seemed to be drifting to sleep, but then murmured, "It's Christmas, you know."

Her hand paused, the word from Before stinging her, but then she continued stroking his hair.

His eyes closed, tears still drying on his face, her husband began to sing softly. "What child is this/who laid to rest/on Mary's lap is sleeping?/Whom angels keep/with anthems sweet/while shepherds watch are keeping?"

She grew still; the words, cracked and almost silent, sent a shiver through her. She remembered candlelight, and the smell of incense, and a figurine of a baby in straw. The mark on her forehead tingled.

Her husband was asleep now, and she held him, staring through the window at the night sky dotted with stars.

~~~

[adhfakjfas]

Rant because I'm mad

first off, that crafting recipe. Just Why.

Secondly, why did they make this isekai. The sandbox game, with thousands of different ways to play, so many iconic stories created from this game and you made this Jumanji but blocks

Third the excuse that "the minecraft movie is for kids!" And that people are taking this too seriously, maybe we are, but if someone spat in the face of a beloved game for yet another cash grab i think being mad is the least of warner bros worries.

I grew up with minecraft, I watched Minecraft rps and let's plays. I still play minecraft. This seems like a generic fantasy story where the protagonists fight bad guys and go home, maybe thats what fighting the ender dragon is but minecraft isn't just fight the dragon and boom you're done.

Just going off from the trailer, this feels nothing like minecraft. Minecraft, at least to me, is very lonely and slow. Immortal surrounded by a very mortal world, with the ancient ruins signifying something great has died here, each day passing by and making this world your own block by block.

idk but warner bros could've made a beloved movie about love and living and everything else i love about this game but can't put it into words and they just didn't. I'm honestly more sad they missed such a big opportunity.

Side rant but i cant be the only one sad about the people making movies for a quick buck, right? This movie had ten years and billions of dollars that'll probably be wasted and live on as yet another cash grab. Do companies not realise appealing to children and not the fans of the game not stab them in the back? Those children will grow up forgetting about this movie and the fans (who would have come to this movie in droves) would also forget this and go on to watch actual good minecraft content. Is the very small in comparison money worth the potential to create a movie that'll remembered fondly for decades to come? I want to stare warner bros in the face and ask if it was worth it.

TLDR: how did they make a game about creativity so utterly soulless.

[shrekgogurt]

Ten Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tags! @artsyunderstudy @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @monbons @larkral I'm eating up reading your answers because we're all so DIFFERENT.

How many works do you have on AO3? 9 (technically 10 but we orphaned one of them out of shame)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 99,978 (mine) + 7,531 (shared) + 9,991 (someone else's) = 117, 500 (total)

What fandoms do you write for? presently, Carry On but back during my high school ff.net days I did some Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus (Percabeth and some separate OCs), Alex Rider (OCs), The 100 (as an elaborate prank), Harry Potter (literally just a My Immortal parody), and Divergent (OCs) and if they weren't oneshots they were never finished.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YES! I'm currently behind on my replies, but it's so fun! It's like a book club but for stuff I created!!???? Shit rocks. I fully didn't expect anyone to read IKABIKAM (my first fic on ao3) when I first published it and so every comment still feels like a miracle.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! I love collaborating because it gives me something to bounce off of. A scene partner. A ticking timer. It's like lifting a heavy object by yourself versus getting someone else to bear some of the weight with you. It's easier. I also find myself constantly seeking collaboration with other people even with my solo fics. I'm all up in those DMs pestering people both as motivation and as external processing. And by GOD, do you fuckers have some good ideas. Y'all make me exponentially better.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? SnowBaz but also in a very real sense...Percabeth. (You never forget your first.)

What are your writing strengths? I got my start with rping, so dialogue is really comfortable for me. I also think my training in other art forms (dance, music, theatre, film, academia) positively influence my approach. When writing action, I often mentally frame it as 'blocking' the scene or 'choreographing' the movement. When crafting sentences, I'm constantly evaluating the rhythm and rhyme and repetition (not to mention alliteration) as if it's a song, always searching for the perfect word or metaphor. I also listen to actual songs and pull the emotion from them, using them as character studies or a musical soliloquy. I imagine shots and then write what I see from the perspective of a director explaining the actor’s motivating thoughts. I constantly revisit my thesis, grounding the narrative in callbacks and a cohesive structure like it's an academic paper. And all those things combined create this kinetic cause and effect style I'm really proud of and tangibly improves every time I write something new.

What are your writing weaknesses? I do not have a firm grasp on proper grammar. I'm also really slow and inconsistent with my output because my process is so physically disorganized and meticulous which often frustrates me. I'm also impatient. I don't do wholesale messy drafts; I edit as I go and when I'm done I want it published immediately. I also fall victim to the white room syndrome with physical descriptions. Establishing shots? Don't know them. What a guy looks like? What they're wearing? Sorry, I haven't told you because it felt weird to jam in there. Outside of fanfiction, I also struggle with creating something from nothing. I'm a theologian rather than a god. I much prefer playing in a sandbox and exegeting meaning from someone else's grunt work rather than conjuring the wood and the sand myself. My writing is also incredibly referential to pop culture which I'm not sure would translate outside of fanfic, but I guess I'll cross that bridge if I ever get to it.

First fandom you wrote for? Divergent (big cringe)

Now tagging! @onepintobean @cutestkilla @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @mooncello @brilla-brilla-estrellita @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @urban-sith @prettygoododds @valeffelees @ileadacharmedlife TELL ME HOW YOU WRITE YOU GENIUSES

[dandylovesturtles]

once again writing fanfic for an AU that's not mine

uh hi so I guess it is Crying About Future Donnie Hours except this is actually a different future Donnie than the one everyone else is crying about.

I have wanted to write something for @kathaynesart 's Replica for awhile now and I got an idea and I decided to use @tmntaucompetition as an excuse to write and post it, so I guess you could say this is propaganda I didn't expect it to be the day after my poll though so I kinda scrambled a bit aaaaa lol

Replica is one of my favorite ROTTMNT comics, it's one of the first I found after I watched the movie, and I love it so much. If you haven't read it please do! However, there is one part of the comic in particular (and especially one line in particular) that has stuck with me since I first read it, and I think about it a lot. So consider this my little homage to that part of the comic, and to the character who says it.

Also there is a short section of this that is just dialogue from the comic so obviously all credit for that dialogue goes to Kat!

And Kat I really hope you don't mind me playing around in your sandbox a bit /)_(\

Anyway I don't normally title these but I did give the gdoc for this one the title: The Needed Functions to Appreciate It

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

As an AI, experiencing the apocalypse was different.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. did not have to feel the aching gnaw of hunger, or the bite of the cold. He did not feel the sting of acid rain on skin, or the seeping of blood from injury. All the physical sensations his family and friends suffered, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was spared them all.

That did not mean he didn’t feel.

…

“Hey Dee?”

The “Hm?” he got in response was distracted. Donnie was often distracted those days. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. didn’t resent him for it. He knew how busy Donnie is - he cataloged and prioritized the to-do list himself, after all.

“I still have the timers Raph asked me to set for his training in the system, and all his old records. What…” He hesitated. “What should I do with them?”

“Oh.” That got Donnie to pause in his work oh so briefly. His finger tapped twice on the enter key without pressing. “You can delete all of that. Might as well free up memory space where we can.”

“Okay.” It was the right answer. Members of the resistance were allowed to set timers and save some personal files on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s system, and protocol dictated that forty eight hours after loss of vitals, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. should clear such files.

It had been three hundred and fifty seven hours since Raph flatlined. He should have cleared these ages ago.

“Hey Dee,” he said again, more quietly this time, and Donnie actually looked away from his work and gave him his attention.

He hadn’t had a physical body since a raid over a year before; he was just an artistic representation on the monitor. Donnie promised to make him a new one, but S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. could see both the parts inventory and the to-do list and he doubted he would be able to do that. Usually it didn’t bother him, but he thought that day that it bothered him a little.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted, and Donnie’s face shifted to something more sad.

“Ah. You have developed a lot of sentimentality…” Donnie sighed, not unkindly. “Well, you can keep it. I won’t make you delete it.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. bounced around the monitor a moment while he mulled it over. Donnie didn’t look away, though one of his battleshell arms took up the task of typing on his computer.

“Isn’t that not good, though, dude? Like… it’s useless now. It’s just taking up space.”

“Yes… sentimentality and practicality are often in direct conflict.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes roving to the ceiling. “Sometimes we just can’t let things go, even against our better judgment, because they remind us of something or… someone.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. zoomed himself in so he filled more of the screen. “Do you get sentimental, Dee?”

Donnie’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Yes, unfortunately so. I find it vexing… though, Mikey would say, “That’s what makes you a person, Donnie, don’t fight it!” or something like that.” 

“But if it makes you hold on to useless stuff, or do things that aren’t necessary, isn’t that bad?”

“Ah, such is the nature of emotions, Shelldon - they often lead us to do things that are, for a lack of a better word, suboptimal… Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a switch so I could just turn the pesky things off. I would focus so much better if I never had to feel… anxious or frustrated or… or sad.” He slumped forward, hugging his arms around himself. “If I didn’t have to… to miss anyone.”

“...That’s the worst one,” said S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., and Donnie nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.” He turned to face S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., eyes glossy. “But-”

ERROR: Memory file corrupted.

.

.

.

.

“It is a convincing replica. Expertly crafted. You act just like him… Be careful that it does not interfere with our intended purpose.”

“Need I remind you, one of my core purposes is to act as a support to Donatello’s family. That includes you, even if you have chosen to forego the needed functions to appreciate it.”

“A necessary purge to keep the Kraang’s whispers at bay.”

“Was it? That is not what Donatello ever wished of you. Even when you decided to take on this burden.”

“Not having to ‘feel’ has its… benefits.”

“And Donatello was quite firm that you not lock yourself away-”

“Such advanced artificial intelligence, yet you still fail to recognize your own ignorance.”

“To what, exactly?”

“To the bliss in not having to miss him.”

.

.

.

.

Username: OMEGABOOTYYYSHAKER9000

Password: ****************

MEMORY FILE ACCESS AUTHORIZED

Enter date: XX/XX/20XX XX:XX

RETRIEVING MEMORY FILE. . . SUCCESS

AUDIOVISUAL PLAYBACK BEGIN

“But even if missing them keeps you from performing optimally… Running from bad emotions means running from the good ones, too.” Donatello sighed. “At least, that’s what Mikey said to me after Papa… And it took me awhile, but I realized he was right. Don’t tell him I said that, though, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Your secret is safe with me, dude.”

“Thank you, Shelldon.” He reached with his hand and touched the screen, and even though they couldn’t actually feel each other, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. moved like he was nuzzling his palm. “When you see Raph’s training records, it makes you sad, but also makes you remember all the things you loved about him, right?”

“I guess, yeah… He’d always scratch my head when I came to give him his training report. When I had a body.”

“Mm, so that’s why you always went to do it in person.” Donatello chuckled, rubbing his thumb on the monitor. He was sad, then, thinking that he couldn’t build S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. a proper body. Always lacking the time and materials…

“Is it worth it, though?” asked S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.. “The good feelings, when there’s bad feelings, too?”

“Maybe that’s one of the great mysteries of life, Shelldon. All I know is… I don’t want to give them up. Not anymore. And… it’s easier to deal with, when you’re not alone.” Donatello pulled his hand back, and looked at him very seriously. “Anata wa hitorijanai. That’s as true for you as it is for any of us. Your family will always be here for you, when you miss Raph, or anyone else.”

Maybe it made S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. feel better. He smiled, as much as his facial design would allow.

“Okay. And I’ll always be here for you too, Dee.”

“Thank you, Shelldon.”

“Love ya.”

“I love you too.”

End playback? Y 

PLAYBACK ENDED

[scaralvr]

my first kiss child!scaramouche x child!gn!reader (n/n = nickname, fluff, suggestive, modern au, scaramouche's siblings au)

"hey, (n/n)?" scaramouche's attention was drawn away from the sandcastle the two of you were building. you didn't look at him, and instead, with a happy smile, hit the bottom of your bucket to make sure the sand would properly end up in good condition.

"what's up, scara?" you said in response, patting your hands together. small particles of sand fell onto your clothes. during recess, it was always just the two of you in the sandbox while the other kids mingled about and played in the play structure.

scaramouche adjusted his straw hat, "have you ever kissed someone before?" you perked up, "kiss? no... but i made my barbie dolls do it one time!" you exclaimed, joyful to have found some sort of connection to the conversation.

scaramouche tapped his chin, "hmm..." he used his shovel to dig up more dark sand, for you claimed that the darker sand is more helpful to create sturdy creations because it's moist. "my mommy said kisses are saved for someone you love." he remarked.

you took the bucket off, watching a perfect cylinder take shape, "oh, that's what my mommy said, too!" you finally looked at him with a wide grin, "you love me, don't you, scara?" scaramouche glanced at you with big, round violet eyes.

he nodded, "mhm, you're my only friend." you giggled, scooching closer next to him in the sand, your knees dirty with it. "i'll give you your first kiss, if you want." you offered, touching your cheek.

scaramouche gasped, "would you really?" you put your hands out, "sure! hehe, watch, i'll do it right now!" he felt his face redden as you pecked his cheek. you kept on giggling, "look, you're as red as a tomato, scara!"

scaramouche was silent for a few moments before giggling as well. "this feeling's so weird, what do you think it is, (n/n)?" he asked, smiling. you put up a finger, "i bet it's happy!... there's nothing else besides happy, mad and sad, right?" you double-checked, looking upwards.

scaramouche hummed, "you're right. i guess your kisses make me feel happy." you suggested, "hey, you should give me one, too! i wanna' feel even more happier than i am right now!"

he planted a kiss on your cheek as well and you covered your mouth, laughing. "i like this feeling, scara! we should give kisses to each other more often." the two of you continued to giggle.

"kunikuzushi, your mom's here to pick you up," the kindergarten teacher, mr. aether, called out as he approached him. he bent down to meet his height with a smile, "are you all ready to go?"

scaramouche nodded, taking his bag. as the teacher led him away, he looked behind himself, "bye, (n/n)!" you waved, "bye, bye, scara!"

ei smiled as her son rushed to her, "how was your day, kuni?" she cooed, brushing stray strands of hair past his face as he grinned. "i got my first kiss, mama!" mona peered at him from behind their mom, "eh, no way!"

ei looked surprised, "ah, is that so? from whom, may i ask?" she held the both of their hands as they began to walk. "(n/n)!" scaramouche giggled. mona teased, "ooh~ looks like he has an (s/o)~"

scaramouche angrily shot back, "do not! a kiss is for someone you love, and i love (n/n) as a friend!" ei chuckled, "kuni... a kiss is usually meant for a romantic partner."

scaramouche felt a part of his soul drift away and yet, you still tease him about it as the two of you are teenagers and, might i mention, officially partners.

you laughed, "i can't believe my darling scara was so naive! to think that you let me give you a kiss." scaramouche's cheeks flushed pink, "shut up..." you poked fun at him, "hey, i'll give you one right now."

using your hand to gently turn his face towards you, you pressed your lips against his. you backed away with a smile. scaramouche's half-lidded hues looked into yours with deep adoration.

"i love you," he murmured, thumb caressing your cheek. "i love you more, scara." you replied, to which he pulled you in for another kiss, his hands placed on your hips.

"hey, do you know where mom put my-" mona stood in the doorframe, unmoving. your lips separated from his for a moment before colliding against his once more, one of his hands putting itself on your nape.

mona slowly closed the door and turned around. "FISCHL! DON'T GO IN OUR ROOM FOR AWHILE!"

© scaralvr.

[bro-atz]

at some point, we grow up

in which: you and minjae are neighbors and grew up together not being able to stand each other, only for feelings to change as you got older

pair: minjae/gn!reader (brief moments of junmin/gn!reader)

word count: 6k

content: fluff, childhood friends, enemies to not really enemies?? (friends to lovers??? enemies to lovers???), barely friends, love triangle andioop, high school romance, kissing, one-sided crushes, love thy neighbor

apply for the permanent taglist here!

“Hey, it’s my turn to build the castle!”

You snatched the tiny shovel from your friend, only for him to snatch it right back. Upset, you complained to his mom. “Auntie! Minjae won’t let me build the castle!”

“Minjae, it is Y/N’s turn, so give the shovel back,” Minjae’s mom came in clutch.

“But this is our sandbox, and it’s in our yard. Y/N lives next door,” Minjae said, making somewhat of a valid point.

“Okay, but you suck at building castles. If I do it, then at least we’ll have an actual castle that won’t fall apart in two seconds.”

“I’ll crush your castle in one second, then.”

“Auntie!”

That’s was pretty much how most of your childhood went: playing in the backyard with your next door neighbor, Minjae. The aunties in the neighborhood liked to joke that the two of you would grow up and get married, but they’d immediately take it back when they saw you chase Minjae around the neighborhood with a worm on a stick or a ball of mud. Minjae was also afraid of heights, and you used that to torment him whenever he was being mean or annoying by grabbing one of his shoes then climbing up a tree so that he couldn’t get it, thus earning the nickname of monkey (well, Minjae was the only one who ever called you monkey).

On your way to school, you would never, ever sit next to him on the bus. He was a popular kid, so he sat in the back of the bus. You, on the other hand, wanted to get off the bus as soon as possible, so you sat in the very first seat. Sure, you were neighbors and would play together after school, but that didn’t mean you had to be friends with him in school. Honestly, you wouldn’t even categorize Minjae as being a friend. He was a last resort— someone you tolerated just enough that you would let go of whatever grievances you have with him in order to avoid a boring day at home.

Minjae seemed to be the same way. At school, he wanted nothing to do with you. When it was time for recess, he and his friends would be on the court playing basketball while you and your friends would play on the playground swinging from the monkey bars or going down the slide or just sitting on the swing waiting for the wind to push you. Even if you both were in the same homeroom, you would keep your distance. He didn’t want people knowing he was your neighbor, and likewise you with him.

There were eleven houses on your block, and the families on the block would gather for potlucks every so often. You and Minjae were the oldest out of all the kids. The rest of the kids were younger than you by a year or two difference, but when you’re a kid, a year is such a huge difference. You and Minjae never wanted to interact with the younger kids because they were so young and obnoxious, and the two of you had more experience in life. That being said, you hated that there was no one else for you to really hang out with at those dinners.

Usually, during these dinners, the families would be busy eating and chatting in the dining room while the rest of the kids would sit in the living room, eating and talking or watching TV. The younger kids always wanted to play while the older kids opted to watch TV. The two of you would sit together— but not too close— and just watch whatever was playing in silence.

The running joke during these dinners was that you and Minjae were going to end up together (which wasn’t really refuted by the time you both entered middle school because you stopped chasing Minjae around with bugs), but you and Minjae still got annoyed by the teasing to the point where the two of you stopped hanging out after school— heck, you both had to walk home after school, but you never walked together even though you were next door neighbors. That being said, you would still reluctantly keep each other company at these stupid neighborhood block dinners.

“Dude, you’re breathing so loud. Shut up,” you told Minjae at one of the dinners while kicking his leg.

You both were in your final year of middle school. The other kids were in their own world as per usual, and you and Minjae decided to watch a movie as per usual, but Minjae was breathing too loud for you to watch the movie.

“I’m not breathing loud. You are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

The two of you started kicking each other while yelling insults at each other.

“Do you have a problem with watching a movie silently or something? Just stop breathing for a second!” you said with complete annoyance.

“Your nose is the one that keeps whistling! Remind me to tell auntie to make you get plastic surgery— that should also help fix your ugly monkey face,” Minjae shot back.

“You’re the ugly one, mop head! If you won’t stop breathing, then I’ll make you stop breathing!”

You got Minjae in a headlock and pinned him to the ground, hoping that if you choked him hard enough that he’d stop breathing and you could watch the movie in peace.

“Ew, get a room,” one of the boys commented as he looked at the two of you.

“Shut up, Hyunwoo,” both you and Minjae spat out.

“Aw, you both are synced up and everything. You’re totally meant to be,” Sumin, one of the more chaotic boys of the group, teased.

“Bro, I will make you stop breathing, too,” you warned him.

“Ha, I’d like to see you try!”

Next thing you all knew, everyone worked together to tear you and Sumin apart. You had your hand around his neck while he had your hair bunched up in his fists. Jinsik, Sumin’s best friend, was pulling Sumin away while Yujun, one of the youngest boys, worked on getting his fingers out of your hair. Junghoon, Hyunwoo’s best friend, and Hyunwoo pulled your hands away from Sumin’s neck while Minjae had his arms wrapped around your waist and tried to pull you away that way. Hunter, Seeun, and Yechan, the other younger kids of the group, were busy laughing at the whole scene.

“You both gotta stop before the parents see, guys!” Yujun rationalized.

Reluctantly, the two of you released one another. You glared at Sumin, who responded with a stink eye. You lunged at the annoying-ass boy again, but Minjae was still holding you back.

“F— Minjae! Let go!” you nearly swore as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

Immediately, Minjae let go, earning a look of disgust from you.

“See? Meant to be,” Sumin teased once more.

“I’ll kill you!”

The rest of the night consisted of the other eight boys trying desperately to keep you and Sumin away from each other.

One day on your way back from school in the wintertime, it was snowing outside. You, like an idiot, forgot to bring a scarf or a hat to protect yourself from the snow. Snow didn’t bother you like that, but it did make your hair wet, and you always got sick after walking outside in the cold with wet hair. You stood by the exit and sighed deeply before walking outside into the winter wonderland.

After two minutes of walking in the snow, your hair was covered with thick chunks of snowflakes. You brushed the snow out of your hair before it could melt when you suddenly felt something land on your head— a hat. You looked to your side to see Minjae walking right next to you bundled up in his winter jacket, his face buried in a knit scarf.

“Thanks...” you mumbled while you put the hat on properly. “I’ll return it to you later.”

“No, that’s for you. Mom made it for you and told me to give it to you. I kept forgetting,” Minjae said roughly.

“Oh… Tell her I said thanks.”

“Will do.”

After the conversation ended, you thought Minjae was going to walk ahead to maintain some distance between you two, so you were surprised to see that he was walking right next to you. You didn’t want to say anything because, while you didn’t really care for his company, it was nice not walking home alone for once. The entire walk home, you both were completely silent while listening to your own music with your own ears buds in both ears, but you kept each other company.

High school was pretty much the same as elementary school. You thought you and Minjae had gotten closer since middle school, but he went right back to his old ways after middle school ended, but you weren’t bothered because you had your own friends and the two of you didn’t even have classes together, so you really weren’t upset that the distance between you two grew. Well, that’s how it was freshman year. Sophomore year, however, things changed.

There was a new family that moved into the block. There was an older couple who moved out— they never had a kid, so your group didn’t change— but the new family had a son named Junmin. He was in the same year as you and Minjae. You briefly interacted with Junmin at the first block party that he attended, but other than the parties, you had no real reason to interact with him.

Minjae was already on the school basketball team freshman year, so when Junmin joined the team sophomore year, the two of them immediately befriended each other. They would sit together on the bus ride home (whenever they didn’t have practice) all the time and talk and laugh while you sat elsewhere talking to some of the other kids in the neighborhood. Even when the three of you got down at the same bus stop, you would just walk home without acknowledging either of them, your headphones blasting music in your ears to make you seem like less of a dick. However, that dynamic only lasted the one semester. It was the first day of the spring semester classes that your world changed.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Junmin greeted you one morning.

He plopped into the seat and sat right next to you. Despite the fact that you had headphones in, you could still hear him. It was too early in the morning for you to react in a timely manner, so you sat and stared at him in bewilderment before responding, “Good morning…”

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

Junmin asking that question well after he got comfortable in the seat was kind of pointless, and while you didn’t really want him to sit next to you, the bus was already moving. You had no choice but to nod. You turned away from him and turned up the volume of the song you were listening to, hoping that he would get the hint and not talk to you. Even though you were listening to music on full blast and you were looking out of the window, Junmin wanted to talk.

“Y/N, I have a question,” Junmin patted your shoulder lightly, trying to get your attention.

With a heavy sigh, you paused your music, took your headphones out, and gave him your somewhat complete attention. As much as you didn’t want to talk to him, he wasn’t a bad kid, so you didn’t want to be too rude to him.

“Why don’t you ever sit with us in the back?”

“Who? You and Minjae?”

“Yeah. We’re all neighbors, after all. Sumin, Jinsik, and Hyunwoo also sit with us.”

“First of all, it’s too early in the morning to deal with all of Sumin’s screaming—”

Right on cue, Sumin laughed loudly, giving you a slight headache.

“That’s fair,” Junmin acknowledged while rubbing his ringing ear.

“And second of all, we’re not friends like that. I’ve never been friends with anyone in the group like that,” you explained.

“Is there a reason why?”

“…No. That’s just how our lives unfolded. None of us are too bothered by it.”

“Why don’t you try to be proper friends with us? It’ll be fun,” Junmin encouraged you.

“And talk about what? I don’t play basketball or watch the games, and we don’t even have classes together. There’s nothing to really talk about with all of you,” you sighed, wondering why Junmin was trying so hard to make all of you guys be friends.

“Okay, fine. But I’m sure you and I can find something to talk about.”

“Like what?”

“Um… What song were you listening to just now?”

You showed him the song, and he immediately gushed on and on about the artist. The two of you ended up discussing music the rest of the bus ride to school.

The two of you got off the bus and walked towards the building together, only to see Junmin get whisked away by the boys.

“Bye, Y/N! See you later!” he called while waving as his friends dragged him away.

You waved in response, an amused smile on your face.

Minjae, meanwhile, decided to grill Junmin as they entered the school through a different entrance.

“Why did you sit by Y/N today and not us?” he asked.

“I mean, we all live on the same block, so why not be friends?”

“You barely talk to Y/N at the block parties, what do you mean?” Sumin furrowed his eyebrows.

“I mean, like… Well… I think we—”

“Guys, get the hint. Junmin has a crush on Y/N,” Jinsik pointed out while rolling his eyes.

“Really? On Y/N?” Hyunwoo was shocked.

Junmin couldn’t even deny his feelings— his face was already bright red. He nodded, and the group immediately erupted into debates about you. Minjae, on the other hand, kept quiet. He was baffled. Why did Junmin have a crush on you, the weird kid who chased him around with a bug on a stick, the crazy kid who tried to fight him, the kid who barely talked to him? He just couldn’t imagine anyone having feelings for you of all people.

You didn’t realize that you, Junmin, and Minjae all had lunch at the same time until you bumped into Junmin— you were with your friends, and the bell rang so you were off to your next class.

“Sorry— Oh! Y/N! You have lunch this period, too?” Junmin was mildly surprised to see you.

“Yeah, you too?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Minjae put his arm over Junmin’s shoulder, nearly knocking the boy down.

“Hi, Minjae…” you were confused— why was Minjae talking to you?

“Do you still wear that hat my mom gave you?”

You were seriously weirded out. Minjae never talked to you in school, and now he wanted to know about what clothes you wore? “Yeah, I wore it to school today.”

“I thought I saw you wearing it. My mom has another one she made for you. I’ll give it to you later.”

“Okay…? Uh… Bye, Minjae. Bye, Junmin.”

You waved and immediately started walking to class, your friends squealing beside you.

“What’s with you guys?” you asked.

“Junmin is totally into you,” one of your friends said.

“No, Minjae likes Y/N,” another friend stated.

“OMG, what if Y/N is trapped in a love triangle? This is so cute, I’m so jealous!” a third friend added their opinion.

“Stop. Minjae’s just my next door neighbor, and Junmin lives on my block. We’re just neighbors,” you shot down their delusional theories almost immediately.

“Well, if you had to choose between them—”

“No, neither. I’m good. Come on, we’re going to be late for class.”

The bus rides to and from school confused you. Not only was Junmin sitting by you, but Minjae was as well, which ultimately led to Sumin, Jinsik, and Hyunwoo to sit by you all. You barely talked while the rest of the boys screamed about something or the other, but you did feel a little closer to them. You didn’t know how you felt about that, but it wasn’t so bad being friendly with them.

 When February came around, your friends teased the shit out of you. They kept saying that Junmin or Minjae would bring you something for the most romantic day of the year, and that they both would compete to get you the better present. You kept telling them that no, that was not going to happen, but at lunch, Junmin approached your table.

“Y/N,” he said as he handed a tiny bag of chocolate truffles to you. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Th-thank you…” you mumbled while taking the present from him.

Just as quickly as he arrived, Junmin disappeared, leaving your friends to squeal. You tossed the chocolate into your backpack.

“Alright, ladies. If Minjae also gives Y/N chocolate, then I win the bet,” one of your friends said.

“Well I definitely lost… Can’t believe it… I thought Minjae would give Y/N chocolate first,” another friend said.

“See, I told you Junmin would give Y/N chocolate first, and I still think that Minjae isn’t interested,” the third friend said with a grin.

“Why are you betting on my life?” you asked with a sigh.

“We’re betting on your love life—”

“Nonexistent. I don’t have one, and I don’t want one, so stop it,” you said, hoping that you shut down their betting pool.

The bus ride home that day was quiet. Minjae and Junmin were at practice, and somehow, Sumin, Jinsik, and Hyunwoo all managed to get detention together. You treasured the quiet bus ride and had a peaceful time on your way home.

It was snowing when you got home. Snow in February was a little weird, but global warming messed with everything, so it didn’t surprise you anymore. You watched the snow flutter to the ground as you sat at your desk and finished your homework for the night before heading into your living room to sit and watch TV.

The doorbell from the backyard rang around seven in the evening. Mildly annoyed, you went to the backyard to see Minjae wearing his winter coat and scarf. Before you could even unlock the door, Minjae gestured for you to meet him by the sandbox in his backyard. You, completely annoyed by that point, grumbled to yourself as you wore a jacket and boots— it was still snowing outside, but you didn’t think you’d need a hat because you didn’t plan on being outside for more than two minutes.

“What is it?” you asked Minjae as you trudged through the snow.

“Here,” he held out a bag. “For you.”

“Uh, thanks?”

You took the bag from him and waved, assuming that you were good to leave, but Minjae grabbed your hand. He took the bag back and took out whatever was in it before placing it on your head.

“I told you my mom made you another hat. Try it on.”

He held the bag for you as you put the hat on properly. It fit nicely, and it was a rather cute hat.

“Tell your mom I say thanks, then,” you nodded, a small smile on your face as you appreciated the hat.

Minjae nodded. He handed the bag back to you and uttered a small “bye,” before shuffling back to his house. The bag seemed empty, so you wondered why on Earth he left you with the bag. You realized why he did when you got home— there was a tiny tootsie roll in the bag.

You sat in your room, the two chocolates in front of you. You stared at them in confusion. You were about to overthink the chocolates, but then your mother called you into the kitchen. You tossed them into a random drawer in your desk and made your way to the kitchen, completely forgetting about the chocolates.

The rest of the year was annoying, and as was the fall semester of your junior year. Minjae constantly greeted you in the halls whenever you saw him, but it was never in a, for lack of better terms, normal way. Sometimes, he’d make monkey noises and then say that he was doing his impression of you, or he would intentionally run his shoulder into yours, and sometimes he would slam your locker shut just as you opened it.

Junmin, on the other hand, didn’t get to see you as often. His classes were always on the opposite side of the school, and he didn’t even have lunch with you. Because of this development, all of your friends “flipped to Team Minjae”.

“Y/N, face it. Minjae is totally into you,” your friend said to you while walking through the halls, moments after Minjae rammed his shoulder against yours.

“No, he’s not. He used to do this to me all the time when we were kids. This is how he is,” you said while rubbing your shoulder— the impact hurt a little, not going to lie.

“These are things that boys do to their crushes, though. Maybe he liked you when you were kids.”

“Absolutely not. He always destroyed my sand castles and…” you couldn’t think of other things he did to you because you would hold a bug and chase him around before he could do anything to you— preventative measures. “Anyway, we’re childhood friends… No, not even friends. We’re neighbors. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

Junior year meant you could drive home, so you didn’t take the bus anymore. You didn’t see either Minjae or Junmin when you got home, which was always somewhat of a relief because you were tired of seeing Minjae at school. Junmin, on the other hand, wasn’t bad. Seeing him was never irritating.

You shook your head. Why were you thinking about those boys in the first place when they didn’t hold a special place in your heart? They weren’t worth the thought. You had other things to think about, like your grades; not boys, and definitely not the neighbor boys.

“Y/N!” Minjae called your name while you walked through the halls.

“God…” you muttered under your breath before turning to him and asking loudly, “What do you want, Minjae?”

“Come here,” he walked towards the stairwell.

Reluctantly, you did as he said and joined him in the stairwell. “Okay, what is it?”

He closed the door to the stairwell. You narrowed your eyes. What was he doing?

“I have something I want to tell you.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

Minjae took a step towards you, and you immediately took a step back. He was definitely acting weird. He kept walking towards you, and you kept walking backwards away from him, only for your back to hit the wall. Your eyes darted back and forth as he pinned you against the wall. His face was so close to yours that you felt like you could count each individual, surprisingly gorgeous, eyelash of his.

“I like you, Y/N. Go out with me,” he said quietly but not so quietly that you couldn’t hear him clearly.

“Minjae, stop messing around.”

You tried to push him away and leave, but he grabbed your arms and pinned them above your head to the wall. One hand holding your arms and his other hand pressing against the wall by your hip, Minjae said, “I’m serious, Y/N. I like you. I really fucking like you.”

Your eyes went wide— you’d never heard him say the f word before. Your heart raced as he leaned in, his lips nearly brushing past yours…

Then, your alarm went off. You sat up immediately, your forehead breaking into a cold sweat. What the fuck was that dream?!

You couldn’t face Minjae normally after that dream ever again. You did you best to avoid him at any given moment in the day to the point where you just carried all your textbooks with you so that you wouldn’t have to stop at your locker. Your friends didn’t realize that you were trying to avoid him, so they just assumed that Minjae lost interest. At least your love life was no longer a topic of discussion within your group.

You did a good job in avoiding him until the block party. You couldn’t believe that you had to face him during the party, and it made you nervous as hell. Your heart was already fluttering before you even saw the guy. How on Earth did one measly dream make you crush on a boy that was mean to you all through your childhood?

The party was at Junmin’s house that time. Your family was the first to arrive at the party, which thankfully meant that it was just you and Junmin.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while,” Junmin greeted you with a smile.

He was sitting in the living room flipping through channels. You took a seat next to him. “I know, right? How’ve you been?”

“Busy. Practice got so much more intense now that we’re on varsity.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and Minjae.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Even the mere mention of his name freaked you out. You hated that.

“How have the games been?” you asked, desperately trying to return your heart rate to normal.

“We’re doing well this season! You should really come for one of our games. We have a home game next week.”

“I don’t know… I’m not a huge basketball fan…”

“You won’t know if you don’t try. At least come for me? Please?”

Junmin stared at you with the most adorable puppy dog eyes, making your heart flutter. Unable to deal with his cute face, you nodded, his eyes immediately sparkling after.

“Promise?”

He held out his pinky.

“Promise.”

You locked your pinky with his.

Even when Minjae arrived at the party, you didn’t realize, nor were you bothered by it. It had just been so long since you had seen Junmin that the two of you talked the entire night. Minjae didn’t even approach the two of you because he had no idea what you both were talking about.

“They’re so cute together, aren’t they?” Minjae heard the aunties talking.

“They are! It would be so cute if they started dating.”

“Can I tell you ladies a secret?” Junmin’s mom approached the women. Minjae, still within earshot, heard Junmin’s mom say, “Junmin’s liked Y/N for a while. Hyunwoo’s mom told me.”

“Why Hyunwoo’s mom?”

“Because Hyunwoo can’t keep a secret.”

Minjae frowned. He had no idea that Junmin was still into you like that. With a shrug, he walked away from the gossiping aunties and hung out with the other boys, leaving you and Junmin to talk the rest of the night.

And lo and behold, the aunties spoke the ship into existence. After you promised Junmin that you’d go to the home game and followed through with your promise, Junmin was delighted. He asked you out that night after their school won— you both were walking back to your car, and he asked you when you got to your car. He was ecstatic when you said yes, but he didn’t kiss you. No, he hugged you, told you that he’d text you about taking you on a date, and left to get into his own car.

Your relationship with Junmin lasted the rest of your high school lives. You went to every single basketball game, you both took turns driving to and from school, and he even took you to prom. Your first kiss happened during your senior year homecoming, and, well, progressed to be more intimate as time went on.

Junmin made you completely forget about your brief crush on Minjae, so when you met them at the games, you talked to Minjae normally. Minjae, on the other hand, distanced himself, using the excuse that he hated romance as a reason to keep away (not that you cared about the justification).

When the three of you graduated, the aunties wanted the three of you to stand together and take a picture. You wrapped one arm around Junmin’s and leaned into him, Minjae standing awkwardly next to you.

“What are you doing? Come here,” you stretched your arm out for Minjae and linked arms with him.

Minjae ears went red, and his face turned a dusty shade of pink. Nonetheless, he kept his arm linked with yours, and the huge gap that was between the two of you disappeared. The pictures turned out great with all three of you standing near each other with wide smiles on your faces. The pictures were so good, in fact, that you didn’t even notice that in one of the pictures, Minjae was looking at you longingly despite the fact that he was standing right next to you.

After you graduated from college, you decided to go home for a couple of months. You were tired from studying and just wanted a little break before starting to work. Also, living rent free didn’t sound too bad, and you missed your mom’s cooking. So many reasons to go home.

Being home, though, you were worried about running into Junmin. The two of you broke up the first year of college because long distance wasn’t working out for the two of you. There weren’t any hard feelings, but Junmin did find a new significant other, so you didn’t want to interact because you were completely and utterly single.

Since you had nothing to study for and no work to do, you found yourself wondering what to do with yourself. So, one day, you laid down in the grass in your backyard and just stared at the sky. You thought about how simple life used to be and thought about what you did as kids to pass the time. Sure, there was the sandbox, which Minjae’s mom got rid of the second all the kids on the block went to college, and there was a park nearby, but that definitely wasn’t all of it. You were thinking about it so hard that you didn’t even realize someone had approached you, their head moving over you and blocking the view.

“Y/N?”

“Jesus!” you sat up immediately, nearly screaming. “Minjae! You scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry,” Minjae apologized, although he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “Mind if I join you?”

You patted a spot of grass next to you, Minjae promptly sitting there. The two of you sat in complete and utter silence. The sound of the wind and the birds filled the silence, but for some reason, it just made you even more aware of the fact that you didn’t even know what to talk to Minjae about. So, you laid back down in the grass and stared at the sky. Minjae mirrored your actions.

“What are we looking at?” Minjae asked, being the first one to break the silence.

“Well, I was thinking more than looking…”

“Thinking about what?”

“About how we used to the pass time as kids. Like, other than the sand pit and the park, what else did we do?”

“You would steal my shoe and climb up a tree so that I couldn’t get it because you knew I was afraid of heights,” Minjae responded almost immediately.

“Oh, right,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “I did use to do that, didn’t I? Are you still afraid of heights?”

Minjae didn’t respond, making you laugh harder. You sat up and clutched your stomach as you laughed your ass off. Minjae sat up too, a small frown on his face.

“Come on, it’s not easy to get over a fear…” Minjae pouted.

“No, you’re right,” you agreed as you wiped tears from your eyes— you laughed so hard you started crying. “I’m sorry for laughing.”

“That’s okay.”

You stood up and held your hand out to help Minjae up. After dusting your pants off, the two of you walked to the neighborhood park. You sat on the benches near the basketball court and continued talking.

“Do you still play basketball?”

“Not competitively, but for fun, yeah.”

The two of you talked about very surface level things, but your conversation stretched out and kept going and going. You never realized you could talk to Minjae for so long, but the two of you weren’t children anymore. You grew up, and with growing up comes different conversations.

Both of your families ended up having dinner together, his parents grilling you about job prospects and your parents with him. By the end of the exhausting interrogative dinner, you and Minjae stood outside on the deck. It was pretty dark outside, and the only thing to illuminate the area were the porch lights of all the houses.

“Did you hear about Junmin?” Minjae asked tentatively.

“Yeah… I mean, good for him. He’s a nice guy,” you said with a sigh.

“What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

You burst out laughing. Hearing those words from Minjae’s mouth was so foreign, and you never ever thought he would say that phrase to you.

“What’s so funny?” Minjae looked at you with concern.

“No, it’s just— You sounded almost like an ex-boyfriend,” you explained after calming down. “But, no. I’m not. Are you?”

“I mean, I am an ex-friend that is a boy,” Minjae mumbled, but you didn’t hear him. Louder, he answered your question, “No, I’m not either.”

“Why not?” the words flew out of your mouth.

“What do you mean why not?” Minjae asked with a laugh. “I just never found someone that I really liked.”

You nodded— it was the same for you after you broke up with Junmin.

The two of you went silent. The only thing you could hear were the buzzes of grasshoppers and cicadas. From inside the house, your mothers were looking at your backs.

“Remember when we used to say that these two would get together?” your mom whispered to Minjae’s mom.

“Yes, I do… Do you think they will?”

“Maybe… Should we keep watching?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The two of you were unaware that your mothers were watching you— your backs were still facing them as Minjae spoke softly.

“I have something to tell you.”

Your mind immediately flashed back to the dream you had about him, and memories of crushing on Minjae flooded your brain. You felt your face heat up as Minjae turned his entire body to face you. He didn’t take a step towards you like he did in the dream, but he did scoot the tiniest bit closer to you.

“Remember when you and Junmin started dating?”

You were not expecting him to say that. Your heart calmed down slightly, and you nodded in response.

“Well, back then, right before you two started dating, you came to watch our game for the first time. My heart skipped a beat because I thought that you came to see me even though I knew you were there because he asked you to come… And I kept thinking about how nice it would have been if you were there for me and not him…”

Your jaw dropped. Was Minjae… Confessing?

“I don’t even know when I caught feelings for you, Y/N… All I know is that whenever Junmin talked about you, I’d get annoyed, so I’d annoy you. I liked when you gave me your attention, and when you started avoiding me—”

“You knew I was avoiding you?” you interrupted.

“Of course I did. You’re not as subtle as you think. I don’t know why you were, but I decided to lay off because I thought you were upset with me. I didn’t want to upset you…”

Empty noises left your body. You didn’t even know how to respond to that revelation with anything other than the truth.

“Seeing you with Junmin was hard… I kept wishing I was him…”

“Minjae…”

“Tell me something, Y/N. Did you hate me back then?”

You had to tell him the truth. “No...” you bit your lower lip and looked down. “I avoided you because… I had a crush on you… And we grew up together so I thought it was weird and that I shouldn’t have been looking at you like that…”

“So you didn’t avoid me because you hated me?”

“I hated you when we were kids, but I never avoided you when we were kids.”

Minjae bit back a slight laugh. He smiled with relief, and your heart raced. He had the same face he did when you were younger, but he looked so much more attractive now, like he grew into his features. You felt your heartbeat louder when Minjae leaned into you.

“Y/N, I have something I want to tell you.”

God, your dream was happening. Your high school dream was coming to life.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I like you.”

He reached out and cupped your cheek, your face instantly heating up.

“Can I take you on a date sometime, some place?”

This was so much nicer than your high school dream, to say the least.

“I would like that.”

“And… Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

“I would really like that…”

Minjae couldn’t help but smile. You felt his hand snake around your waist and pull you even closer to him. Your hands rested on his shoulders as he brought your face towards his, his lips brushing against yours.

This time, you didn’t wake up— you were awake, and this very real Minjae was actually kissing you. The first kiss was soft, but the second was passionate, desperate. His hold on you got tighter, and he kissed you as if he was trying to make up for lost time. Butterflies filled your stomach. When his lips trapped your lower lip and sucked lightly, you felt the world spinning. He leaned into you and kissed you harder, both of his arms around your waist. Your hold on his shoulders was weakening— the more he kissed you, the more your mind went blank.

Yet, when he released your lips and moved back, you leaned towards him wanting more. You moved your hands so that they held onto his neck and pulled him towards you again. His lips were addicting, and you wanted more of him. But, he kept making little comments in between the kisses.

“I like you, Y/N.” Kiss. “I seriously like you.” Kiss. “I like you so much.”

He tried to kiss you again but you covered his lips with your hand and said, “Shut up. Do you have a problem with kissing without talking or something?”

“No, monkey.”

“Monkey?!” you slapped his shoulder. “If I’m a monkey, then you’re still a mop-head.”

“I’ll be your mop-head,” Minjae rubbed his nose against yours lightly. “And you’re my monkey.”

“Don’t make me put you in a headlock.”

“Kinky.”

“Minjae!” you gasped, your face immediately heating up.

“I’m kidding! Just kidding,” Minjae laughed at your red face and hugged you.

You hugged him back and sunk into his warmth and familiar, natural scent. And when he leaned back to look at your face, you kissed him quickly, smiles blossoming on your face, then his.

You both finally turned towards the house to head back inside, only to see your moms and dads watching the whole scene unfold with popcorn in their hands. The two of you immediately separated, the two of you now completely embarrassed.

“See, we told you that you’d end up together!” Minjae’s mom said with a laugh.

[olderthannetfic]

Nothing turns me off from a fanfic faster than a fear of emotional sincerity. There's so much irony, so many jokes, so many "ugh that was awkward" "I know right" after scenes that could have been touching had they not just been undermined, and a thorough coating of snark and sarcasm over an alarming number of protagonists. My fandom lends itself well to OCs and I've read some wonderful, one of a kind OCs as a result. I've also read a lot of the above, whatever you'd like to term that sort of story. I find it deeply uninspiring. How am I meant to be interested in a story when the author isn't? How am I supposed to get deeply invested in this thing when we have to punctuate everything with quips? Sometimes I just want a story where not everyone feels like they're saying lines for the movie trailers and memes these fics will never actually get.

There's so much potential out there in the setting for all kinds of characters. I shouldn't be able to take quotes from all of these OCs in all these different roles and have them read in that same irreverent, I-am-quipping-in-the-war-zone tone to such a degree that any line could come from all of them.

And when I mentioned this to a friend they assumed that meant I wanted boring heroes. No. Too much of anything makes that the boring, predictable thing. I want weird. Give me a very sincere hero who is also mildly out of touch with reality and talks to bugs but whose pacifism will not extend to you if you touch his loved ones. Give me a hot grandpa who's too old for snarky shit and wants to hash things out like an adult and relearns how to see the world with wonder in his eyes. Give me a heroine who's neurodivergent and nice and also really good at a handful of things that bring her actual joy instead of snarky cool girl semi-joy. Just. Any break from the latest brunette white cis culturally Christian atheist snarky cool person who always has a line at the ready and doesn't let anything get under their skin no matter how much it would be really weird for it to not matter to them, actually and how completely understandable it would be to let them feel something.

A scene that lives rent free in my head is from a fanfic now deleted, but in which two characters just talk about their trauma and have a quiet moment. The canon character is comforted by the OC without any romantic undertones or intent. Nobody makes any jokes to break the tension. They just have a moment where one person leans on someone else because sometimes life is fucking hard and you just need someone else to tell you they've been there, they managed, you're not alone, they've got you.

Most fics in my fandom don't have that much sincerity in the entire story. And this thing I loved, this fandom I invested six years into, is finally just too dull of a sandbox to play in anymore. I don't like that. Nobody's taking any risks, even one as minor as emotional sincerity in fiction, which is arguably a lot safer a place to do that than reality.

I miss when my fandom was new and the OCs were some of the most baffling people you've ever had described to you with nonetheless well-written backstories going out to do shit they believed in.

--

Sincerity is terrifying for an author.

[auspicioustidings]

Lost Boys Part 6

Summary: The final part of this series! Leaving it open as a bit of a sandbox so I can come back and do drabbles when I feel like it :)

Words: 1.8k

CW: General dubcon nonsense

She swore Graves and his Shadows knew exactly what she had done on her break. They watched her pass their stalls with amused and part way hungry eyes. A hand ran through her hair that caused a shiver right down her spine.

“Vargas darlin’? No accounting for taste. Next time you come to me or mine and we'll treat you right hm?” 

Jesus. Graves was something else with that molasses drawl of his and those baby blues seemingly always sparkling with some sort of mirth. She held her head high, flipping her hair over her shoulder and winking at him.

“You'd fleece me out of every cent I own.”

“Aww come on now, that's not a very nice thing to say.”

“And that's not a denial.”

“It's in my nature to want to make advantageous deals, not my fault when fine folk agree to them.”

“Good thing I'm not fine folk then so won't be tempted.”

He laughed in delight. Philip Graves loved someone with some wits about them. It was all too easy most of the time to kiss someone's soul away at the crossroads when they foolishly offered it up. Humans were so greedy for wealth, fame, power, love. This one was fun, messing with creatures that should terrify her. As far as he could see she was reaping the benefits while suffering none of the consequences. Oh she would make a wonderful demon, an even more wonderful victim. He could imagine how satisfying it would be to slide his tongue past her teeth to seal an oath where she gave her soul to him. Delicious, it had been too long since him and his Shadows had eaten something so decadent.

“You'll find I can be very temptin’ darlin’.”

“Well there appears to be a line, so better up your game.”

Preacher laughed as she walked past, absolutely aware that he would take that as a challenge. Let him honestly, the people on this boardwalk were ridiculous and she could play along. Especially if it got her head that good on breaks. 

-

The rest of the shift was fine, no more sneaky handsome distractions. Alex sent someone else to take over for the evening shift, not making an appearance himself. Maybe he was embarrassed after shoving his tongue down her throat. Or maybe he had went home with Alejandro. Again, none of her business.

By the time she was heading home the sun was dipping beneath the horizon, darkness coming quickly. She had never really minded the night time, it was more like an old friend than a threat. She preferred to work during the evening and she knew she'd have to get over her apprehension at seeing Simon or Johnny again, but one day of avoiding them wouldn't hurt.

“Hey wait up!”

Oh Christ, it was the 3rd one of that little trio jogging up to her as she walked home. She didn't slow, just raised an eyebrow and continued on her way. He jogged ahead and then turned, walking backwards so he could talk to her as she moved. Cute.

“We didn't officially meet did we Preacher? Kyle Garrick” he said, thrusting a hand out.

She didn't love that Alex had already told this man her nickname but she was nothing if not polite, so she took his hand to shake and only rolled her eyes and stopped walking when he instead took her knuckles up to press a kiss to them.

“Look buddy, I'm not going to fuck you.”

Kyle choked out a laugh. Johnny had not been kidding when he said she was a feisty little fucker. 

“Even after all the work I put in stocking your house?”

“So it was you that broke in. Not as romantic a gesture as you seem to think.”

“Hardly breaking in, you invited me. Already too fucked out by then for us to have some fun, but you're looking thoroughly unfucked right now. Heard Ale got his tongue in you well enough, but I think you need something more substantial.”

Preacher spent at least 2 whole seconds trying to maintain some sense of decorum before giving up.

“If I need something more substantial, I'll ask Konig.”

That definitely got him annoyed, stepping forward and jamming a hand between her legs to cup her cunt over her jeans.

“You won't, not when you know how well we fuck. You think Ghost and Soap gave it to you? Doll I'd destroy this little pussy, you'd never want anyone else again.”

Preacher partly believed him if she was honest, his two friends had been hands down the best fuck of her life so it would follow logic that he'd be incredible as well. Didn't mean her pride would allow it when there were frankly, a lot of other options. She leaned forward to purr into his ear.

“Would hate for you to do that to Alex, thought you were friends. Not very friendly to ruin his chances given that he kissed me today.”

With that she pushed away from him, his hand falling away as she started walking again. Her blood was certainly up, she'd be needing to take care of herself when she got in since her pussy throbbed from his aggressive proposition. 

Every fibre of Kyle's being wanted to eat her. The only thing keeping him glued to the spot was Price's oppressive aura nearby, warning him to leave it alone. Fuck. The delicate skin of her throat would shred like tissue paper under his teeth. He had licked her blood off of Johnny when he had it smeared across him so he knew she tasted fucking divine and that had only been cold blood, not warm and pumping the way it was inside of her.  

He watched her for far too long before finally being able to move, heading back to the den.

-

As Gaz paced their den Price only laughed at his frustration, commanding Johnny to calm him down. Not even MacTavish's sloppy mouth could make him stop thinking about her. They decided between the 4 of them that she was going to be theirs and she was going to do it willingly. Especially now that the others had an eye on her, it was a matter of pride to win her fair and square. Well, win her of her own volition at least even if their methods could technically be thought of as cheating.

After all, they were vampires. How hard could it be to seduce one little human?

–

“Y'all understand?”

There was a chorus of eager agreements. The Shadows would get this new girl off of amusements and into the games. She had been a temptation already, but seeing that everyone else wanted her? That really sealed her fate as soon to be theirs.

Demons were basically built to seduce humans after all. It'd be easy. 

-

Horangi couldn't move for the heavy weight crushing him, not that he'd be able to move if Konig got off. The fuck had been cathartic for both of them, thoroughly exhausting, leaving him boneless.

“I want her.”

“I know Ko, when have I ever not gotten you something you've wanted?”

Shifters were feral things, but it meant they courted far better than any other creature could hope to. It was in their instincts to seduce a mate. Shouldn't take much effort at all.

-

Rudy groaned and then immediately started huffing. The taste of her he could get from Ale's mouth just was not enough. The night only got worse when an unwelcome visitor swam in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Alejandro I'm wounded, you don't think I may just want to visit an old flame?”

“Try again.”

“Your little Preacher, I want her. We both know there is a lot of competition for such a sweet thing. So why not work together?”

It made sense. If Ale and Rudy had to share her, better it be with another siren. It was agreed they'd do it without their song to prove that they had won her with her enthusiastic and uncharmed consent. If they did it any other way no doubt it would make them look weak, like they couldn't claim a human without the use of their powers. 

Sirens weren't just charming because of their song, they could seduce humans just fine without it. And this human? They were confident about their chances.

-

“Farah please” Alex pleaded, a blade against his throat. 

His own fault really for just wandering in when he knew how she currently felt about him. He had saved her, but he had refused to go with her and Kate, had chosen to stay with the creatures that had wanted to eat her in the first place. 

“Where is this change of heart coming from?”

“...there's a girl. They've kept her alive for now, but they're not the only ones after her.”

“And she belongs with her own kind.”

Alex nodded and Farah took the blade away. Finally he got it. She'd like to meet this girl who had finally pushed him to come back to his senses, come back to her. 

They had hunted monsters of all types, hunting a human should be easy. It would be wildly satisfying to rob all of these creatures of someone they wanted to claim for themselves, shove it in their face that they could never compare to the affection humans held for one another. 

-

Preacher sighed in contentment, all cosy and ready for bed. She was just making a cup of tea when the door went. It was pretty late for visitors, but then it wasn't like anyone here was normal.

Really she shouldn't have been so happy to see him, idiot that he was. But it had been a while since Keegan’s smug little grin had been on her behalf. 

Keegan knew she'd survive, but he was feeling feral over the mixture of scents clinging to her. These fucking animals had all been pawing at her by the smell of it. 

No matter, he had been laying groundwork for years. And now here she was, in his home, ready to fall head over heels in love with him. He'd make sure of it. After all he knew the monsters that made their home in Santa Carla, and none of them had ever come up against someone quite like his Preacher before.

They stood no chance.

-

Little non-canon bonus round because I think it would be neat if Preacher was, in fact, secretly just a dragon hoarding fuckable monsters

It was nice having Keegan close. He was the first of her hoard after all. And now she had so many more to add! Preacher thought she was going to like Santa Carla just fine.

[innsyn]

Writers and Dreamers needed.

Have you ever heard the term parallel collaboration?

It’s where teams, or individuals, working towards a larger goal, tackle tasks independently.

How could that work in creative writing?

Think of writers telling different stories set in the same world with overlapping characters.

Each writer has independent control of their own story, but needs to collaborate on consistency and continuity between stories.

Why are you telling me this?

Because I would love some of tumblrs many wonderful writers to join me in a parallel collaboration project of epic proportions!

I knew this was a trap! You never wanted to be my friend, you’re just trying to recruit me. Go on then, tell me more.

Okay - so it’s a totally non-profit, Creative Commons Share-A-Like endeavour. Anything anyone contributes can be taken, reworked, reimagined and recombined by everyone - as long as it’s all properly attributed, and distributed under the same licence.

It’s a sandbox which is open to everyone - the idea is to operate like fan fiction in reverse. Anyone can come and write a story using any of the characters that have been developed, and the best will be adopted into canon.

I would love to have stories of all types exist within one original story world - action, romance, horror, smut, slice of life, coming of age, hero’s quest - I want them all and more!

Why should I contribute towards your project instead of working on my own?

I would never ask anyone to bench their WIPs. I promise, I understand how personal that connection is. If you are feeling good and working well on your WIP then I am super proud of you and will cheer you on. But working on your own WIP can be hard precisely because it’s so personal, because it’s your baby.

I don’t subscribe to the archetype of the solo writer, tapping away in isolation. It helps to have people to bounce ideas off, it helps to know that other people are working towards the same goal as you, and it helps to know that you’re not shouldering all the responsibility.

I want this to be your favourite side project. Somewhere you can go and share a big dumb idea and write without pressure, whenever your WIP is kicking your ass.

But what’s it actually about?

I’ve tried to design an overarching scenario with inherent conflict, but scope to be interpreted in many directions…

Here's the idea:

An alien with godlike technology finds an Earthlike planet and its human people.

It designs a game to select a human to be given access to its technology and decide the fate of the planet.

The alien enlists its friends to select 5 human ‘team captains’, spread around the world. They each receive access to a different technology, giving them a unique superpower.

These captains then recruit a further twenty four ‘players’ each, taking it to 125 contestants, each with their own different power.

Once the teams are fully recruited - the humans still unaware where these powers are coming from, or what their purpose is - the alien talks to them. It explains they are part of a game, and what the prize is.

The game is a deathmatch. Any player who kills another player will gain their tech access/superpowers. They cannot kill their own teammates until only one team remains.

A global superpowered battle royale. 5 teams. 125 candidates. 124 of them must die.

And you want, what? Different writers to adopt the different players and tell their stories?

Exactly! I want someone to adopt the teleporter, and someone else to adopt the earthbender, or the emotion manipulator, or the one who can bring nightmares to life. I’ve outlined 125 possible characters, each with a different superpower, but I have no idea what’s going to happen or who is going to win.

Battle Royale. Hunger Games. Squid Games. Haven’t we had enough deathmatch games?

Quick answer: no!

The important differences for this idea are twofold. Normally deathmatch stories happen inside a fixed ‘arena’ - but our stories are loose in the world.

This means most of our players have to travel around the world, trying to hunt or escape from each other - giving them much more opportunity to engage in other adventures aside from trying to kill each other - or to hide from the game and try and live a normal life.

Secondly, by making the project open ended and collaborative we make the writers part of the game. Don’t want your character to get killed off? Write stories better than the ones where they get killed. The deathmatch is part of the project process just as much as it’s part of the plot.

You’re insane. This will never work.

The only way it will definitely never happen is if we never try.

Damn. You got me. Sign me up.

Alright… let’s figure out which character you want to start with…

I've still got a loads of questions though.

Come at me, let's do this!

So what are you calling this big dumb project?

Powerclash

Nice.

So... who can I tag in who might get a kick out of this?

@advashaviv @prokopetz @huttslut @whats-on-your-mind-then @fearofthefourthdimension @caxycreations @time-to-write-and-suffer @wip-nook @blind-the-winds @autism-georg @ryns-ramblings @writeblrfantasy @writeblrsupport @harleywriteshit @unmellowyellowfellow @leebrontide @melonsap @jgmartin @tananaphone @pluttskutt @careful-fear @scribbling-stardust @irlactualwizard @cryptid-s-wips @squarebracket-trick @at-thezenith @slowboz @writinglittlebeasts @lividdreamz @all-write @sergeantnarwhalwrites @tabswrites @authoralexharvey @quantumlandbooks @stanrendipity @manuscriptsatmidnight @memento-morri-writes @magic-is-something-we-create @lukascritical @liv-is @garthcelyn @fearofahumanplanet @antique-symbolism@poetinprose @thedeerwight @inflarescent @viva-la-topknot @theblackbookofarkera @nikoschrissis @sfhoe @soiledcat

[bodhrancomedy]

I wasn't sure where you stood on fanfiction of some of your original characters from your "Everything Needs a Deaf" series, so I thought I'd just ask up front.

I spent an enjoyable lunch break outlining a possible plot/scenes/themes/etc for Ophelio, the queer deaf prince. Given that Ophelio's narrative and setting aren't someone elses IP you're playing in like a sandbox like the Addams/Indiana Jones/Mummy triplets, or many of the others, I thought perhaps you might prefer if we didn't share fanworks of Ophelio with you.

Then again, it may just be a sandbox you're playing in and you would be delighted. Or somewhere in the middle of these extremes. I certainly don't know so I'm asking: may I share what I've written with you, or would you rather I didn't?

This is very lovely, but I do not want any fanfic of Ophelio because he’s not connected any existing IP.

This is because I’m writing a script (and planning a proper tiktok series with at least one other actor) and it could put me in a difficult position if I have to argue he’s mine because there’s other pieces out there with him in it.

All the other characters (except Spindle and Tadhg) are a big sandbox I’m playing in so obviously you’re welcome to play too if you so desire, but Ophelio’s mine and I’m not too keen on other people using him as a doll until I’ve gotten to.

Thank you for asking though.