#I’ve never actually dated before but if I was going out with someone eight years older than me I’d never let them live it down

[charmingradiobelle]

Judy taking every opportunity to tease Nick about their age difference, and he acts like it doesn’t faze him but she knows damn well how annoyed he actually is every time it comes up

It would be something like her going, “hey isn’t INTERESTING how you were graduating high school when I was nine years old like isn’t that just SO FUNNY??” and him just glaring at her like “pls shut up”

[rubyvhs]

remedy (ii) — sam winchester

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summary: jessica and gen explore what’s between them by forcing you and sam to do the same —tags: underage!reader, 22 year old!sam, med student!reader, insecure reader.

“You never told me what happened with Sam.” And with good reason too. Jess, she’s your best friend and your roommate, naturally she got worried when you kept avoiding the topic. The topic being: ‘You and Sam spent an awfully long time outside. Alone.”

“Nothing happened. We smoked.”

Her eyes widen and she lets go of her phone. You’re both in your two room apartment, but currently in hers. She’s on the beanbag, you’re on the bed. She’s about to scream. “You what?”

“Yeah.” You say a little reservedly. You trust Jess wholeheartedly, she wouldn’t tell anyone, and it isn’t like it’s a secret even if she does, but she’s very overprotective. As in, she would go give Sam a piece of her mind if you say anything that could piss her off. Again, not like he did anything, but still. You can never be too careful.

“Come on, slut, I want details.”

“Those are the details. We smoked.” Oh fuck it. “And he asked if I’m a sophomore.”

“Why would he ask—” It hits her quickly and her eyes widen with an exaggerated gasp. “No way. Sam freaking Winchester likes you?”

“He doesn’t.”

“I beg to differ. He’s a senior, you know that, right?” You nod, pulling you head down as you play with your fingers in your lap. There’s not much you can do with Sam without him looking at you like a kid. It’s only a five year age difference— hell, your parents are eight years apart, but in university it’s different. He’ll want to feel mature, it’s hard to date someone who— yeah, hasn’t actually done anything. Ever. 

Scratch that, he probably wouldn’t date you if you were twenty. Okay that’s more of your insecurities talking but still.

“C’mon, you so don’t like Sammy. That hair? Are you serious?” 

You suddenly catch her tone and look up with a small laugh, “You’re kidding!” And yeah, you're theory is right, she’s blushing. “You like Sam?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t deny it—”

“I don’t—”

“Lying whore—”

“I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“It’s Gen.” You furrow your eyebrows into a frown and tilt your head. What’s Gen? “I like her. Not Sam.”

“Okay… what does that have to do with—”

“She’s his best friend. She’s into girls but they’re roommates and I used to date Sam so I don’t know what he said about me— I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I used to date him.” You get out of your seat at her slightly trembling voice. She says the last sentence like it’s an afterthought, like it’s not supposed to mean much. It fuels your insecurities, but other than that, nothing. “I’ve liked her for a year now but she’s… I’m scared to tell her.” 

“Gen’s hot. You’re hot.” You sit up on the desk so your legs are dangling in front of Jess, she places her hands on your thighs. “Come on, don’t be stupid. I haven’t paid attention but I’m sure she’d feel the same way if you made a move.”

“Maybe,” but she doesn’t think so, you can tell, “I don’t wanna— I mean, I know you haven’t seen her around a lot but she’s cool, okay? Like really cool. And Sam’s like her German Shepherd bodyguard.” That earns a genuine laugh from you and she slowly smiles into it too. She loosens up even as she’s panicking slightly because, seriously? How ridiculous is this?

“‘S okay, Jess. Cool or not, you're cooler. You’re the coolest. No one has anything on you, and don’t even worry about the German Shepherd bodyguard.” 

Famous last words.

Sometimes, in life, it’s better to shut up than comfort your friend. So much better. The most better, no matter how grammatically incorrect that sentence is. Because if you don’t shut up, you end up on double dates (three days before your final) with a guy who probably hates your guts. 

And it’s all your fault really. Your self control and Jess’s pouty face. God, it’s cruel for her to have such a beautiful weapon. Real shame it doesn’t work on Sam to make him back down— which is why you’re here. On Gen and Jess’s date. With Sam. This isn’t a double date. This is just… torture, in its purest forms. 

“I could be studying right now.” You whine while Jess parks her mustang at the mall entrance. It’s a last-ditch attempt to go back home. 

“You studied enough. I quizzed you on the flashcards three times.”

“But I missed a few the last time.”

“You’ll pass.” 

“Jess, c’mon, does he even know?”

Last ditch attempt turns into a complaining session. It doesn’t work. Doesn’t make you feel better. And definitely doesn’t stop you from stuttering and blushing like a ten year old when you see Sam. 

Gen and Sam meet you at the shooting range where you’re supposed to have your ‘date’. You greet Gen with a hug while Jess does the same for Sam, and when you switch… he’s smiling but you decide to play it safe and put out your hand. He glances at it for a second before extending his and saying a quick ‘hey’. It works out, there isn’t any of that initial awkwardness, and it’s almost like four friends going out. 

You decide to get food first so you end up at a cafe/restaurant type of thing called mince. 

“Why’d you choose here?” It’s the first thing you’ve said that actually sounds like you want to be here and Gen’s smiling as she answers.

“Used to work here last summer, best freakin’ burgers ever!” She’s so bubbly, her shoulder-length brown hair is in loose waves that you just need to ask how she does, her smokey eyeshadow has a hint of glitter on the sides and it’s all very pretty. She’s pretty. You get what Jess is on about.

“And the—” Gen interrupts Sam to shout ‘milkshake’ at the same time he says it which is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. She gets excited about the smallest stuff and is showing it constantly. 

“You used to work here too?” You ask, just because you’re proud you spoke at all.

“No, would annoy Gen to get me half-off meals the whole summer.” Gen rolls her eyes like it’s true which makes the rest of you laugh. 

And it goes on with casual conversation; when are your exams, what are you doing this summer, did you hear about Lily’s new party. It’s mostly like all of your outings until the food comes, then Gen and Jess start to close their conversation in.

Gen and Jess. They should have a joint name. Genevieve and Jessica. Jenica? Jessevieve? Nessica? Maybe you should take a break. But God these burgers really are as delicious as she says. Incredible. All that flavor put in one? Maybe you should work here. 

It seems like your (practically) moans aren’t so quiet because Sam’s amused expression says it all when you look up at him. He’s sitting opposite to you and watching you eat more than he’s touching his own food. “That good?”

You swallow and quickly nod. Yeah it’s that good, what kind of joke is that? It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Best burger, anyway. You take a sip or your cherry cola before he shakes his head, “You’re missing out.”

“What?”

“On the milkshake.” You smile a little and play with your necklace’s charm, something you’ve picked up doing since you stopped smoking regularly (the small wins in life). “Here,” He moves his across the table. With his straw. So first you share a cigarette and now a straw? You may as well kiss at this point, it’s all the same. 

You lean down to try it and— wow. You’ll be personally giving every chef in this place a raise, who cares if you don’t have the right to do that? You will make the right when their food is this flavorful. 

Even a vanilla milkshake feels different— is that cinnamon? 

“Right?” And if your feverish nod wasn’t something to go by, then the fact that you were the first to finish your food says it all. 

After you’ve all eaten till you couldn’t get up (thank God for friends who you can accomplish that with), you walk around, hand linked in Jess on one side with Gen and Sam on her other. You don’t want to make Sam uncomfortable, no matter how nice he acted in the restaurant so you try to stay as far away as you can. Which okay, in retrospect you might look like a toddler holding onto Jess but no one seems to mind.

Until they do. “Me and Gen are gonna look at something, okay?” Jess says, her voice a little low so only you can hear. Jess wouldn’t hate you for refusing, but you can see how much she wants this. You nod and swallow your fears. That would leave you alone with Sam. “Don’t worry, okay? He’s a good guy—”

“‘M not worried. Have fun, baby.” She beams and runs over to where Gen’s standing. Sam is on the phone somewhere so you settle for walking around ‘till you stop at a jewelry store. If anything reminds you of your parents, it’s stores like this. Gold jewelry. Your tradition. Other people would get phones or shoes when they achieved something, you’d get an 18 karat ring— and it’s not to say you’re a multi-millionaire (you definitely aren’t), it’s much much cheaper where you're from. 

You got your first earring when you were two days old from your uncle. A necklace from your grandfather. Three bracelets from your father. All gold. 

“You like it?” Sam’s voice startles you, jumping back, you look at him. He’s looking expectantly.

“Yeah, I guess,” They’re beautiful earrings, matching the ones your mother wears all the time back home. “Reminds me of someone.” 

He nods and when you look up into his eyes he’s quick to blurt out ‘I’m sorry’ like he’s scared he’ll talk himself out of saying it. What does he have to apologize for? You guys didn’t even flirt, it was nothing. 

“It’s okay. I mean— obviously you have nothing to be sorry for anyways.”

“I shouldn’t have done that—”

“What, talking to me?”

“Leaving.” Does the action of breathing include air being sucked out from your lungs forever? Thag Shouldn’t be happening. “It makes it seem like I'm an asshole and you’re cool, didn’t mean to make it look like that. I’d love to be your friend, give me your number?” you hesitate for a moment too long, “if you want, of course. If you want to be friends with a senior.”

He says it like he’s a fifty year old senior resident which forces a laugh out of you and helps you relax a little. “Yeah, of course, I just didn’t want to assume anything, you’ve been nice, Sam, haven’t been rude or anything. It’s just, you looked pretty scared when I mentioned my age.”

He rubs the back of his neck with a small huff, “Yeah, that’s my bad.”

“Okay, yeah, give me your phone,” He opens the contacts app and you easily add your number along with your name. First and last. Who knows how many people he knew had your name? Could be hundreds. Thousands. Millions even. 

“It’s not a bad thing that you got scared— but anyways,” you hand him his phone back, “if it makes you feel any better I’m turning eighteen in a couple of months.” It’s not a total lie, you’re turning in January. It’s May. So if you think about it, it’s a couple of months… multiplied by four. Really only eight months. Same thing.

“It doesn’t,” he snorts and you frown a little. His eyes widen  and he shakes his head, “not in… I meant that there’s nothing to feel bad about anyways. You’re a cool person, I like hanging around you.”

You try to lighten the mood, smiling and waving your hand, “Keep the lies coming.” He laughs a little but you can see he’s about to explain himself again. “It’s fine, Sam. I understand what you mean. I liked hanging out with you too.”

“Yeah?” Flirting, friendly banter, pity— who cares, you’re talking and he’s being all cute while you make your way around a mall that you have no interest being in. 

“Definitely. And I tried blueberry cigarettes for the first time with you.” You say excitedly, and it’s really true. It was thrilling (when compared to your routine of studying, eating and going to the gym everyday) to try cigarettes with flavor— not that it was really prominent, but at least you tried it. “And your car’s amazing. A Mazda, right?”

His eyes seem to twinkle in the way-too bright light, “Got it last year actually.”

“I noticed, ‘s a newer model.”

“Yeah, twenty one.” You're both somehow closer as you walk, your arms brushing against each other in the white short sleeve top you decided to wear and his Zeppelin t-shirt. You’re about to take your phone out (because God knows that that's the only thing you can do when you’re stuck in an awkward situation) before he points at a shop and practically shoves you to come with him. Not that you need a push, you would’ve gone very very willingly. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask when you stop right in front of a dollar store. 

“‘S a tradition me and my brother had— have. We buy fireworks every first of the month.” You feel a light laugh escape you even as you want to pout in confusion. What does that have to do with you? “It helped us save money instead of buying them all at once on the Fourth of July. Still haven’t bought my May ones, we should go in.” It doesn’t take you five seconds of looking into his sparkling eyes to agree. Those eyes. They’re just brown so you can’t say that the color is what captivates you, it’s the way he uses them. So so insanely innocent when you’re sure he isn’t, when he's shown you he isn’t. The fact that he’s still hanging out with you is proof enough.

“It’s the twentieth of may, anyways, why did you wait so long to buy them?” The question is born out of curiosity as you both walk around the different aisles, you examine any piece you find remotely interesting. 

“My brother and I… we don’t talk as much, anymore. Just reminds me of him a lot, I guess.” 

His eyes are trained in front of him so he’s avoiding your gaze and his voice is so soft you���re afraid you might not catch what he says. “Then why are we doing it now?”

“I miss ‘em. My family. Just wanna stop doing this avoidance thing— which is Dean’s thing by the way, not mine— and actually remember them.” He shrugs like his voice isn’t about to crack and his hair isn’t covering his eyes as faces down. You decide to ask a stupid question. A very stupid question.

“Oh, why are you talking about them like they’re gone?” Lesson number two: Sometimes, in life, it’s better to shut up than try and comfort your friend acquaintance. So much better. The most better, no matter how grammatically incorrect that sentence is. Because you just don’t know them well enough, and it’s inevitable to sound like a total dick. 

“They’re… they’re not. Or actually—” oh please no, if one of them is dead, being a ‘dick’ is the least of your worries. “Mum died when I was six months old but I was talking about my dad and Dean, he’s my older brother. We fought when I got accepted into Stanford, dad didn’t exactly approve.” His mother died? You’re a total bitch is what you are. An abomination at best.

“God, Sam, I’m sorry—” You hurry to push out the most sincere apology of your life but he stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You freeze automatically. 

A, there’s a hand on your shoulder. B, it belongs to a guy… from the male species— of men. C, you like Sam and want him to keep touching you.

“Stop, don’t, it’s fine. Mum was a long time ago and dad, guess it’s just the way it is.”

You’d think. You’d believe, that after all of this you would shut up and mind your own business at the very least— but no such luck. You hear yourself asking, “what about Dean?”

“What about him?”

“He's your brother—” It’s as if the universe is on your side because you never get to finish your sentence. A toddler runs over to you to hug your legs so tight you can't move and she’s crying out ‘mama’ too many times for her head not to pound. Yours certainly is. “Hey, hey,” it’s no use, she’s as sure that you’re her mum as you are that Sam is never going to open his mouth around you again.

She starts crying. As if you sold her to the highest bidder and she’s just now finding you again. You would if she keeps holding on and crying like this. 

Sam doesn’t share your same sentiment because he starts cooing at her, leaning down to pick her up. He lifts her in the air and the crying comes to an immediate halt. You love kids, nothing against them— in fact, you cared for your little brother since the second he was born. First to hold him. But right now? When you’re embarrassing yourself to last you a lifetime, your affinity to kids is decreasing ever so slightly. 

“Hey, princess, where’s mommy?” Right here. Is what you want to say, instead you cough a little too obviously, making Sam send a smirk your way. The little girl with two ponytails on each side, she couldn’t be older than five, shakes her head. “You don’t know? Is she here?” He points to you and your eyes widen for only a second before you glare at him. Now that the girl has gotten a better look she shakes her head. The small things you're grateful for. “What’s your name?”

“Rory.” She pouts out but she seems content in Sam’s arm. She’s leaning her head on his shoulder and you’re willing to bet money your heart's beating so fast you might pass out. It’s so heart-warming, he’s so frickin’ good with kids. Why is he so good with kids?

“Okay, Rory, let’s go see where mum is.” He glances at you to make sure you follow him and you make your way to the register. He tells the cashier what’s happening and he announces over the speakers that someone should pick up their child. Sam keeps holding her and glancing at you frequently while he’s playing with her, as if willing you to do something too. 

You won’t. He’s stupid to think you will. It isn’t like you would’ve left her there in the middle of the store if you were alone but you definitely wouldn’t have held up a stranger (even if it’s a child) and then played with her. Bringing her to the lost and found (cashier… whatever) is more than enough.

Her mum picks her up a few minutes after and you’re both checking out with the fireworks in record time, mostly because he grabbed them when you weren’t looking— which really begs the question of how the hell is this man so good at something that sounds illegal? 

Should you be concerned? Yes. Will you be? Probably not. Which is why you keep walking before you ask questions again. It’s bound to happen. It will happen. Exhibit A:

“About your brother, you said you guys don’t talk. Why?”

He doesn’t seem to mind even if it looks like he’s a little sad talking about it. “Oh, it’s nothing. He’s just always traveling and he wasn’t really happy that I went off on my own.”

“That’s a dick move,” you’re a dick, is what he should say to you so you try to save yourself, “I mean that you did a really incredible thing. You got into Stanford on a full scholarship— he should be proud.”

It takes him a second to answer, he’s staring in front of him and it isn’t to avoid your gaze, it’s to come up with a genuine response. And his response is genuine. “He is. Dean’s proud.”

You don’t push it after that, you get a matcha strawberry drink, you both buy some snacks that you don’t open and then Jess calls to see where you are.

“You know,” maybe you don’t want to know. He seems to catch your thought because his smile widens, “this was fun. We should do it again— alone, next time.”  

Is this what being asked out looks like? Should you get Jess to answer for you— maybe you should—

“As in a date, sweetheart. Is that okay?”

If he keeps calling you that then yes.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He says fairly and leans down to kiss your cheek. “Good night.” And then he walks past you to Jess, throwing a quick ‘night Jess’.

“Oh. My. God.” Jess all but sequels next to you as you both walk back to her car.

“You can say that again. I just got my first kiss!” Jess’s eyebrows furrow.

“Oh you poor poor sheltered girl.” Which throws both of you into a hiss of laughter while she leans up against you in victory. You both got what you wanted. Even if you didn’t know you wanted it.

You definitely knew you wanted it.  part three; holding onto thin lines ‘till we just walk between them.

title from: softly by clario

main masterlist

hi guys so here’s the second part, I think it’s gonna be 3 parts because the last two have been 3.5/4k so the last one could be 6/6.5k and I can end it there. Glad you guys like it so far and comment if you wanna be tagged!! & if you’re wondering, yes gen’s faceclaim is gen padalecki our beautiful beautiful girl. her and adri are a power couple.

ALSOOO I REACHED 100 FOLLOWERS I love u guys sm and I’m so glad you like my writing enough to want to follow me and I love talking to you and getting your thoughts on everything so let me know what I should do for 100!!

tag list: @angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403

[indigovigilance]

Maggie is Possessed

This is my second meta! My first one is here.

I’m not the first fan to be suspicious of Maggie but I’m going to argue why she might be possessed (and I hypothesize that specifically she is possessed by an angel), rather than being eldritch herself, and will propose some reasons why the hitchhiker might be doing this.

First, a quick list of her early observable behaviors:

She cannot spell urgency

She signs “very faithfully yours”

She refuses to drink alcohol

Golden angel-wing earrings, anyone?

Have you seen those clothes?

All of those things are angelic, but why possession, specifically? Evidence is presented in order of chronology and not necessarily how strong it is, below the cut:

First: The timeline is weird. She’s eight months behind on rent, and suddenly decides she needs to speak to Mr. Fell “on a matter of some ugrency” and insists she can be out by next week. It’s inconsistent behavior that could indicate that a new decision-maker has taken over. First-point-five, she calls Aziraphale an angel: does she know?

Second: re-watch the first coffee shop scene, S2E1 at 13:20. Yes yes, it reads like a cute lesbian flirtation scene. That’s the cowrie shell. Pick it up. There’s a caraway seed underneath. When she arrives at the coffee shop for the first time, Maggie’s confused “ah, yes, coffee” might not be the flustered redirect you thought it was, but rather indicating that whoever is riding around in that body doesn’t actually know how a coffee shop works. But Nina (to Hitchhiker!Maggie’s relief) remembers her order. So Human!Maggie has been here before, in fact, Nina calls her a regular, to which Hitchhiker!Maggie says “oh right, yes, I’m that.” Not sus at all, sister.

Third: During the “herbal tea” exchange, Maggie says to Nina that “I didn’t go to parties” and she was “not that sort of teenager.” On it’s face it reads like she was a goody-two-shoes human teenager, but consider for a moment that whoever is speaking right now was never human; the statement isn’t a lie, but its very misleading. Who else do we know that does that?

Fourth: During the lock-in, Maggie tells the story of how her great grandmother’s store was in a corner of Mr. Fell’s bookshop, so he lets them stay on for old time’s sake. One possible interpretation of this phrasing is that Hitchhiker!Maggie knows that Aziraphale has owned that shop continuously for at least 100 years. Nina is the one that suggests that it was actually Aziraphale’s grandfather, and Maggie nods along.

Fifth: Maggie says it’s a “coincidence” that the power goes in and out when Crowley passes by; could read as a deliberate redirect from someone who actually knows that Crowley is a demon? But more on that later.

Sixth: I’m skipping a lot of intervening content BUT at the ball, during the dance, she says “this is just what we do, isn’t it?” to which Nina emphatically replies that no, it isn’t. So even though Nina has been effected by an emotion-suppressing aura, she hasn’t lost her memory of how society generally works in 2023, but somehow Maggie isn’t up to date. This is parallel to Point #2, not knowing how to order coffee.

Seventh: Aziraphale’s attempted miracle memory wipe doesn’t work on her. I’ve seen others suggest that it’s due to a miracle blocker but all of his other miracles work, so…

Eighth: Nina calls her “angel.” You thought it was cute. It’s not. It’s a double-bluff. She’s actually an angel.

Ninth: She tells Crowley that “we’re real people.” Okay, human police officer Inspector Constable, whatever you say.

The rest of this is wild speculation. Abandon hope all ye who read below the fold.

So of course this raises the question: why are is the hitchhiker here, and what was Human!Maggie’s motivation to give them permission to hitchhike?

I’ll start with Human!Maggie’s motivation. I believe that she is not just pretendy-good but a properly good person who feels a lot of anguish about her failing business, one that’s been in the family for 100 years, and guilt for not paying her rent. I think she prayed for help, and a “guardian angel” answered her prayers, and she gave that angel permission to possess her and fix the problem.

As for why the angel answered her prayers, I propose that the Metatron sent them to fuck around with Aziraphale. My evidence is that Maggie frequently meddles to Aziraphale’s detriment. In chronological order:

She puts him in a moral choice position: if he evicts her, he’s the bad guy. If he forgives her rent, he’s done something good. Both of these can be leveraged by the Metatron. Notably, after he forgives the rent, Maggie calls him an angel, perhaps to remind him whose side he’s really on *wink wink nudge nudge.*

She confides in her landlord about her crush on the business owner across the street, who’s already in a relationship?! How ridiculously inappropriate?? Maggie??!! But she does, and plants the idea in his head about love, which ultimately becomes the runaway train that makes him extremely vulnerable later.

She refuses to leave the shop during the attack (S2E5), I propose is for purposes of fucking over Aziraphale, as evidenced by…

For this part, I need you to go back and watch it. S2E6 at 3:28. During the pissing contest at the threshold, Maggie turns her head away, there is a sound effect, and that’s when she turns back to Shax and invites the demons in. Hitchhiker!Maggie has taken over and rolled out the carpet for the enemy invasion.

Maggie is the instigator of the “you have to talk about your feelings” conversation, dragging Nina from behind the counter across the street while she has a shop full of customers. Considering that the Metatron is at that very moment at the French restaurant next door, making a job offer to Aziraphale, the timing choice seems very suspect. Almost as if they coordinated to talk to each husband while they were separated.

So, it is possible that Hitchhiker!Maggie was sent by the Metatron as a spy and a saboteur to meddle with Aziraphale. To what end, specifically? Probably to get him to break up with Crowley and/or get him to return to Heaven, but ultimately, I just don’t know. I will admit that I don’t have a very strong conviction that this will become canon, but it was fun to write and I hope that it was fun to read! Leave a note if you enjoyed it!

edit: a link to another meta about why this was such an effective strategy against the husbands

[its-time-to-write]

hi, i love your writing! could i request something where jamie and reader are dating and jamie starts introducing them to the important people in his life, like roy, keeley, the richmond boys, etc. and each time they get introduced to someone new, whenever jamie steps away, they basically get some variation of the 'you better not hurt him' talk, and when jamie finds out he's worried that reader is gunna be offended or upset but they reassure him that it's fine, they think it's cute that everyone's so protective of him and that it's nice to see him have so many people care about him

Sorry this took FOREVER. Here it is!

the way it goes

It has been exactly twenty-one days since Jamie asked you out on a proper date, and you’re of the opinion that life can’t get much better than this. You’ve only met two of his teammates so far, (Isaac because he’s one of Jamie’s good friends and Richard because you ran into him while shopping) and honestly, they aren’t what you expected at all. 

They’re kind and they seem to genuinely like working together.

(It’s a little funny to call football “work.”)

Isaac tells Jamie to bring you next time they all hang out, and reminds him to buy more juice packs than last time so they don’t run out again.

—

Turns out the next “hang out,” is a night at Isaac’s, and the whole team is there with various partners and spouses. There’s a strict sweatpants-only drsesscode, and pretty much everyone is in clearly expensive matching sets. You’re grateful that Jamie shrunk a brand-new deep green set the other week, because you didn’t have time to go out and buy something new/not ratty.

There are tables of board games, a pile of snacks, and even a bar. Jamie drags you over so he can get “proper buzzed,” and requests something incredibly complicated from Beard, who appears to be the only coach present.

“Babe,” Jamie says, “you good here? I’m gonna get some food.”

You nod and watch him weave through groups of people. You lean against the bar and wait for Jamie’s drink.

“So,” says Beard, “you’re Jamie’s girlfriend.

You nod. “Yeah, I am. I’ve known him for ages, though. Since I was in uni. Always thought he was just some prick footballer trying to score, if you know what I mean.”

Beard chuckles. “I get it. He’s a bit of an asshole sometimes.”

You grin. “He’s my asshole.”

Beard slides you Jamie’s drink but before he completely lets it go, he says, “Hey.”

His voice has lost its jocularity, so you look up to meet his (very intense, slightly terrifying) eyes.

“Jamie doesn’t need his heart broken. He may have been a giant prick, but he’s different now. He’s not the kind of guy you can just screw and move on from.”

Your mouth has gone a little dry, so you just nod. Right then. You turn to go find Jamie and hope he won’t mind if you take a sip of his drink. You’re planning on staying sober tonight, so that one sip is going to have to get you through till the end.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told you to be careful with Jamie. The first time was actually Roy’s niece, Phoebe. Jamie was babysitting and he asked you to come along, so while he was paying for ice creams Phoebe tugged your arm so you’d get down to her level and said, “If you make him cry, they’ll never find you again.”

You had looked at her in shock while she matter-of-factly stated, “My Uncle Roy’s been teaching me things.”

She said the word things far too ominously for an eight year old, but then Jamie came back and she was all smiles again. 

You got a similar, equally threatening talk from Phoebe’s mum, and then from Roy, and then Roy’s girlfriend Keeley.

Variations of the “break him and I’ll break you” talk had begun to trickle in whenever you’d pick up Jamie from Nelson Road. The tone ranged from Sam’s vaguely threatening, “We all love Jamie very much. We’re incredibly protective of him,” to Jan Maas’s blunt, “If you break his heart, you will never find another date on this entire continent.

Even Ted had a comment, which was more along the lines of, Jamie’s a big softie, he doesn’t need some to play him right now, he needs a real supporter. Each time, you assured them that you weren’t going to hurt him. You didn’t ask why they thought you would be the one doing the hurting when he was the one with the reputation.

Because you are fully aware of his reputation. You hadn’t seen Lust Conquers All, but you’d seen enough clips to piece together exactly how it went. And you’d seen the details of his cheating scandals all over the papers. And dealt with him firsthand while in uni. So yeah, Jamie’s past prick-ish behavior is not a mystery to you.

You find it endearing that so many people love him enough to protect him. It’s a good sign, you think.

You find Jamie carefully stacking various snacks on a tiny, tiny plate. His face lights up when you come into view.

“Oh good,” he says. “Extra hands.” He grabs his drink with one hand and gives you the plate with the other. He starts piling on something flaky and slightly green. 

“Isaac’s girlfriend makes these fucking pistachio things, and they always go way too fast. Gotta eat them while you can,” he says while creating an engineering marvel.

“Glad you like ‘em, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice from behind you. You jump a little, and the plate wobbles. 

You turn to see Isaac with an absolutely gorgeous woman on his arm.

“I’m Stella,” she says. “It’s wonderful to meet you. We’ll have to have you two over for a real dinner.”

Jamie and Isaac quickly become engrossed in a serious discussion about football tactics, with Jamie downing his drink and then taking the plate of food from you. He was right, those pistachio things are amazing.

You chat with Stella for a little bit and learn she’s the face of a modeling agency and met Isaac during some football/branding thing.

“He was the only one during the entire shoot who made sure I was drinking enough water,” she laughs. “Who knew the way to my heart was through proper hydration?”

You talk a little longer before Jamie’s arm is snaking around your waist to whisk you off to see Dani. It goes like that for a little while until you finally settle down at one of the game tables. It’s a card game involving a lot of yelling and pointing fingers.

The house is noisy and cozy, filled to the brim with people who are just comfortable around each other, and you think you’ve never experienced something like this in your whole life.

Jamie on the other hand, is yawning a little bit. His hand, which had been on your knee tracing squiggly patterns, is starting to slow down so you put yours on top of his and whisper, “You about ready to go?”

Jamie nods and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Got fucking extra training tomorrow,” he quietly laments.

You get up to leave and Jamie follows suit with a very loud pronouncement that he’d rather be somewhere private, much to the amusement of the Greyhounds who begin to hoot and whistle. You roll your eyes and smack his butt on the way out.

Forty-five minutes later, Isaac’s phone dings with a photo of Jamie in a pink robe and green face mask, hair pulled back in an equally pink and fluffy headband. He’s lying on your bed and he can see the tv screen playing Notting Hill. You’ve typed, Someplace private, my ass, and Isaac just shakes his head and grins. Fucking Jamie. Prick on the outside, softie on the inside.

You better not break his heart, he writes.

HAH comes your reply a moment later. Not a chance.

“Babe, look,” you say handing Jamie your phone. “I’ve collected the whole set.”

Jamie reads your text thread then looks up at you in confusion. “What d’you mean?”

“Isaac is the only one who hasn’t like, threatened me or something if I hurt you,” you reply.

The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red. “What do you mean, the only one?” he asks. “Like, the team?”

You shake your head. “Oh no. I mean, yes, the whole team, but like pretty much everyone who works at Nelson Road.” 

Jamie’s eyes widen as you begin to list people on your fingers. “Alright, so obviously the Greyhounds, plus all the coaches, Keeley, Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, Samantha at the front desk, Gary, Phoebe and her mum, Will-” you pause. “Should I keep going?”

Jamie groans. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry. They’re all twats, except Phoebe. I swear, they’re not always like that. I’ll talk to them and make ‘em leave you alone.”

“No! You can’t let them know that you know! And…” you hesitate, “I thought it was kind of sweet. Like a green flag, you know? They all like you enough to make sure that you’ll be ok, and they want me to know I have something special. Of course, I already knew that,” you continue, “but it’s nice confirmation.” 

Oh. That’s new.

Jamie’s quiet for way too long so you look over at him. “Babe, are you crying?”

“No,” he says, choked up. “Face mask got in my fuckin’ eye.”

“It’s dried solid, babe.”

“Fine,” he says, “I might be a little. But you can’t tell anyone, especially not Ted, because then he’ll talk to me about feelings and shit, and I’d rather eat ten fucking scones than that.”

You laugh and snuggle into his side. There aren’t going to be any heartbreaks here, not if you can help it. You’re both planning on keeping the other around for the rest of your lives.

[nicomoon69]

I’ve made up so much Bernard lore in my head so I’m just going to dump it here

so post Louis Grieve in my head Bernard transferred to an all boys boarding school his junior year (someone suggested Brentwood so I’m gonna go w that). his parents sent him there as a bit of a last ditch effort to straighten him out, get up his grades and push him out of his silly habits. this also included them making him buzz off his hair since they deemed his old hair unprofessional.

all of it was a huge blow to Bernard’s already fragile mental health and self esteem so at Brentwood he was kind of a mess. he wasn’t exactly a bad student but the people around him considered him even more of an outsider than he was before at Louis Grieve.

eventually Bernard did find himself with a small group of friends (might further develop them as ocs??) who were much like him outsiders. one of said friends also being the first time he fooled around with a guy, which led to several more though none of it was ever serious.

there was lots of denial at first but by the time his time at Brentwood ended Bernard had accepted himself as queer.

he applied for a few colleges, some outside of Gotham but he ended up settling for GU bc part of his couldnt handle leaving his city behind. he chose a double major because he thought that would make his parents most proud and bc biology and physics were the only subjects he enjoyed.

despite everything seemingly going well for Bernard he felt an emptiness that nothing could fix, that is until he found the Children of Dionysus. despite knowing the risks of joining a cult he did. he was in the cult for roughly eight months before he got kidnapped to get sacrificed.

that was a rough version of what happened in my head. I have some more details that I couldn’t fit smoothly into that word vomit so here’s some more

Bernard came out to his parents his first semester, which they took pretty badly and led him to getting kicked out and having to couch surf for a bit before landing on the apartment he was living in during TD:R.

to keep himself afloat with no support from his parents Bernard worked two jobs, one at a diner around the corner of his apartment and the other at a coffee shop closer to GU.

at Brentwood Bernard did a lot of experimental stuff with his appearance ranging from spiking his hair after it had grown out a bit to getting his ears pierced multiple times. a tongue piercing came along somewhere in his time at the cult and Bernard genuinely doesn’t remember getting it.

during junior and senior year Bernard joined the basketball team. he was surprisingly good considering he had never showed any interest in the sport and wasn’t particularly athletic before then. basketball somehow also led him to training himself in martial arts.

since I do hc the Children of Dionysus to have some more Dionysian practices I think Bernard developed both a distaste for wine and eating raw meat (omophagia).

Bernard has been refusing to get drastic hair cuts after the buzz cut and is unlikely to get one any time soon. he’s been taking kitchen scissors to his hair and freestyling it if he feels it needs more shape.

though he’s been out for a while Bernard hasn’t actually dated anyone long term before Tim. most people he’s been with were flings or were blocked after a few dates.

the way Bernard got into contact with the cult is through one of his high school classmates, who he’d seen talk about the ways that joining it had improved their life and how they were much more enlightened. he due to his circumstances was an easy victim after his initial skepticism

there’s just a lot of permanent scarring due to the cult, but Bernard doesn’t bother covering them up with make up or clothes. at least not post getting rescued.

Bernard actually goes to therapy after the cult and was also diagnosed with autism (let me project a teeny bit). it helped him make more sense of his life and gave him more direction.

his cooking passion came from his early childhood, being dimmed out in middle school and only returning after high school. he mostly enjoys writing his own recipes and experimenting with taste. there was ofc the added challenge of budget, but it was one of the few things that made him happy.

his conspiracy theorist side mostly calmed down until he was thrust back into it when he started dating Tim. this was due to odd behavior from Tim and until Bernard found out he was RR (which really didn’t take that long) he was balls deep on conspiracy blogs and threads. he didn’t really quite after putting the RR pieces together though, bc he enjoyed being able to subtly help Tim with his cases.

due to the two jobs and double major previously mentioned Bernard has a terrible sleeping schedule. he regularly stays up past three only to have a morning shift that starts at seven.

gonna quite rambling for now lol, might edit this post to add more in the morning but I’m sick of typing. sorry if it’s a lot, I just think abt him a lot……. yea..

[obitez]

Holiday Bets

written for @bucktommywinterfest

Round 3: Holiday Themed Calls

Rating: T Word Count: 1447

Additional Tags: Established Relationship,

Warnings: Canon-typical Emergencies,

Tommy looked down as his phone buzzed again with an incoming text message. He looked down, as he did so, Lucy looked over from where she was sitting from him across the table.  “Who is it? Buck again?” she asked.  Tommy waved her away. “I didn’t even unlock my phone,” he said. “Let me see what he said before you interrogate me.” “So he did text you?” Lucy asked. Tommy ignored the question, and read the message.  Evan: How many calls with X-mas trees do you bet we’ll get?  Tommy chuckled reading the message. They had been dating for a little over eight months, and Buck never ceased to surprise him. He typed a message back and hit send. Tommy: What are you talking about?

“So,” Lucy leant forward in the seat she was sitting in. “What’s he talking about that has you laughing?”  Tommy held his phone to his chest. “What’s got you wanting to know?” he asked.  Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh come on,” she said. “I know it’s Buck, but he wouldn’t be sending you anything you need to hide from someone while you’re at work.”  Tommy chose not to follow up on whatever that statement meant, and instead tried redirecting. “What’s got you so interested?” he asked. “I’ve texted him a lot before here.”  She leant back a little then, resting her chin on her hand and studied him. “Maybe I’ve been wanting to question you about what you talk about for months now…” 

Tommy’s phone buzzed again, and Lucy lifted an eyebrow as she heard the slight vibration. Tommy quickly looked down to read the message on the lock screen.  Evan: Chimney saw a x-mas tree stand this morning and wants… (unlock for more) Before he could unlock his phone to read the actual message, Lucy came around him to look over his shoulder. “So what’s he talking about?” she asked.  Tommy knew there would be know winning with her for now, so just unlocked his phone and let him read the texts as he did. 

Evan: Chimney saw a x-mas tree stand this morning and wants to make a bet on how many x-mas tree calls well get this year “Oh,” so Lucy hummed. “They’re still making bets over there.”  “They never stopped,” Tommy said as he began typing a question.  Tommy: are we talking just A-shift or all the 118? It took a couple minutes for Buck to respond, but he did after a couple minutes.  Evan: just a-shift “I say six calls,” Lucy’s voice popped into his ear to say.  “What?” Tommy asked.  “I just read the message,” Lucy said as she walked back around the table to sit in the chair she had vacated. “How many Christmas tree calls are they going to get? I say six.” Tommy rolled his eyes as he texted Buck back.  Tommy: I say 8, Lucy says 6

An hour later, Buck texted him again.  Evan: +1 - a guy fell carrying a tree into his house and hit his head Tommy knew he shouldn’t laugh at someone’s misfortune, especially when it was bad enough that they needed to call 911, but he let out a little chuckle. No one was around to see or hear it, so if asked, he would deny it. Tommy gave Buck’s message a thumbs up right as their own alarm started sounding.  Later that evening, right before the sun started to go down, Buck texted him again.  Evan: 2 - another guy fell trying to get his fake tree down from his attic Tommy’s eyebrow lifted at reading that. Two in one day? It was only the first week of December. At this rate Lucy was going to lose big time, so was he. This time he actually wrote Buck a message.  Tommy: 2 in one day? How many calls did you bet on?

Evan: I took your advice and bet 8 Evan: Eddie only bet 3, I think he’s going to lose That was the last call, Christmas Tree or otherwise, that the 118 had received that shift, so Tommy didn’t get any more texts. Their next shift, the 118 hadn’t received any Christmas tree related calls at all, but Tommy’s team did.  Shortly after 10 a.m. the alarm rang and they were called out for a medevac at a Christmas Tree farm just east of the LA city limits. Dispatch didn’t provide them many details about what was happening on scene, something about one of the workers cutting down a tree and getting hurt by a chainsaw. There were already EMTs on scene providing treatment, but they would need a helicopter transport to get the patient to the hospital if they wanted him treated in time.  Tommy wondered if this could be included in the bet. Maybe they would have to start a new one, how many calls involving Christmas Trees will the Harbor team receive this year? That would be a good one, they could make it a competition.  “Over there’s the clearing they mentioned,” Lucy pointed at a small grassy clearing about a hundred yards outside of the group of evergreens. Tommy could see the ambulance that had arrived ahead of them. He set the helicopter down, and within ten minutes the patient was loaded and they were on their way to take him to the hospital.  When they finally returned to Harbor Station an hour later, Tommy fished his phone out of his pocket to text Buck.

Tommy: Do you want to make a bet on how many Christmas tree calls we’re going to get?  Buck texted back less than a minute later.  Evan: we’re still ahead of you 😉 Maybe this could just be a thing between him and Buck, Tommy thought. No need to get the others’ opinions on it.  Their last shift of the bet was the day before Christmas Eve, they had both gotten lucky this year, that way. So far, the 118 had made 7 calls involving Christmas Trees, none of them had life threatening injuries, thank God, while Harbor had only had that first one.

Evan: One more day to get to 8 calls! Tommy rolled his eyes as he read Buck’s text message as he typed a response.  Tommy: Aren’t we not supposed to be wishing for people’s misfortune? Buck: 🙄 we’ll get at least one call today. I just want only one to involve a Christmas tree. Tommy: Be careful what you wish for Be careful what you wish for was right.  It was halfway past 11 p.m. when Tommy got another text from Buck.  Evan: Can we talk?

The notification from the text message made the screen and bunk Tommy had been trying to get a quick nap in light up. He hummed as he picked the phone up to read it.  At this hour, with a message like that, Tommy figured Buck most likely wanted to actually talk, as in on the phone, not through texts.  He rolled over and planted his feet on the floor as he got out of the bunk and walked out of the room, not wanting to disturb the others trying to get some rest. Then he brought the phone up to his ear as he listened to it dial Buck’s number.  “T- Tommy?” Buck;s voice sounded from the phone speaker.  “Hey,” Tommy greeted him. “What’s up? Why’d you want to talk?”  Buck was silent for a minute, and Tommy listened to the sound of his breaths, slow and slightly deep.  “We… We had a bad call,” Buck finally said. And Tommy waited him out, figuring out the reason Buck wanted to call him. It wasn’t so much he wanted to have a conversation but, he just needed to put the words out there.  “It was a house fire…” Buck said. “We got there not even five minutes after the call came in, but the place was fully blazing. It started from the lights on the Christmas Tree,” Buck sucked in a deep breath. “The only good thing was that no one was home. No one was hurt… But they lost their house, Tommy! You should have seen the looks on their faces when they drove down the street to find their place up in flames.” Tommy was silent for a moment, thinking over what he should say. “No one was hurt though, right?” he asked. Buck hummed in confirmation. “Then that’s one good thing. Yes, they lost their house, right before Christmas, but at least no one was inside right?”  “Yeah,” Buck repeated.  The following morning, no one brought up the results of the bet and who won. It was never mentioned again. 

[undead-supernova]

HIGH TOLERANCE

Only 10mg / Masterlist

Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

warnings: so much angst, a night gone wrong, more (derogatory) Steve, Gertrude (extra derogatory), Delta-9 gummies

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: dates aren't always what you want them to be...let alone with people who you don't really want to be on dates with

wc: 4k

song inspirations: VOID by Melanie Martinez, We Are Nobody Else by Lady Lamb

“What do you mean you haven’t seen any movies this year?”

“I mean, I’ve seen movies. I just haven’t found anything I thought was interesting in the last eight months.”

“What do you watch then?”

This morning you actually found someone on Hinge named Gertrude and by the afternoon you were on a lunch date. And you’d thought they were cute when you met up at Grub Burger, like really cute, with thin-rimmed rectangular glasses and a long dark braid down their back. They had a soft voice and an even softer smile…but it was quickly starting to go downhill.

Every question they threw at you felt like an investigation where you were wrong every single time, as if your preferences weren’t good enough. Even the lack of movies you’d seen.

In your defense, you usually went to the movie theater if Eddie asked. He was really good at guessing when a movie’s going to be worthwhile (and you weren’t). He never once disappointed. He’d also never taken you to a movie without at least giving you something of the cannabis persuasion and buying a large popcorn for you to share. 

Sometimes he even bought your ticket.

Which you always pretended were dates like the desperate woman you were.

“Yeah, I really like 2000s movies,” you replied, shrugging. “I’ll pop on a Seth Rogan film every once and a while. Like, I know they’re a little outdated or whatever, but they’re fun. Oh, especially if you smoke some weed. Then it’s super funny. Like, This Is The End? It’s just cool to see all these actors—"

“I mean, they’re, like, super problematic,” Gertrude interrupted.

You nodded. “No, I know,” you agreed, scratching at your neck. “I know. It’s not the best, but like, I recognize that. I don’t think it’s all funny. And it’s not just Seth Rogan, there are other genres like dramas and fantasy and horror. Have you heard of the movie The Invisible? It’s about this guy who dies and is a ghost and can’t talk to anyone and finds out he—”

“I just thought because you’re queer, you’d have better standards for the media you consume.”

Pausing, you felt yourself deflate. You shrugged again, wondering how this conversation was turning into something else entirely. “I mean, I think you could argue that every piece of media is problematic, depending on the way you look at it. If you acknowledge that the media you like is flawed, you’re still allowed to enjoy it. It’s not that hard.”

Gertrude gave you that judgmental look again, pushing their fork around their French fries. “Agree to disagree. Anyways, maybe you should ask me a question now.”

As if I had had any chance to ask anything since we sat down.

“Uh, okay. What’s your favorite color?”

Gertrude finally smiled for the first time since you’d greeted each other. They really were pretty. There was just something so grating about their attitude…

“I think I like a soft yellow, something bright and cheery.”

You nodded, trying to seem more interested than you were. Some part of you even felt like laughing. “Yeah, yellow’s a good color. Very vibrant. Makes you happy.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe black? Red?”

Steve sighed, scratching his bare thigh before going back to his cherry and goat cheese ice cream. Eddie merely stared down at his cream puff flavor, unsure as to why he thought this date would be a good idea. He’d suggested they go out to get ice cream (definitely not to distract himself from what was probably happening across town with someone who he definitely wasn’t thinking about). 

But Steve didn’t remotely hesitate, making Eddie think that maybe that was a sign. He was in it now. They were getting somewhere…

If only it hadn’t started going downhill just from asking basic questions that they somehow hadn’t thought of in the last however many years of knowing each other.

“Ah, come on, Eddie. You can’t say red!”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, trying not to get irritated. “Why not?” he asked. “It’s a color. That was part of the assignment.”

“I just feel like it’s a little stereotypical for you.”

“Why, ‘cause I like metal?” Eddie guessed with a sigh sitting in the back of his throat. He was careful not to release it.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replied. Like it was obvious. Like it was stupid. “Precisely.”

“Okay, then what’s yours, big guy?”

“Probably red or green,” you answered. “Not a soft green. More like a deep emerald?”

“Like Christmas?”

You shook your head. To give them credit, it was a common question you got whenever anyone cared enough to ask.

Well, except for one person...

“Well, no. I wouldn’t consider myself someone who likes Christmas all that much.”

“Let me guess, your favorite holiday is something weird, like St. Patrick’s Day.”

What the hell was this person even talking about? Were they hearing themselves talk?

You successfully suppressed your sigh before you decided to answer honestly. “Uh, my favorite holiday is Halloween.”

“Next you’re gonna tell me your favorite holiday is Halloween.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, because it is.” What was Steve even talking about? Why was he suddenly being so fucking judgmental? “Let me guess, your favorite is Christmas,” he bit back.

Steve laughed, oblivious to Eddie’s venom. “Yeah, the lights are cool. The hot chocolate with the peppermint in it. Oh, and the snow. You can layer everything. I mean, it’s cute. Plus,” he stopped, clearly trying to make his next sentence sound less rude. “I just think Halloween is a little…meh.”

“Meh?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What beef do you have with Halloween?”

“It’s just a little overdone, don’t you think?”

You shook your head, appalled as to why they didn’t get how important the holiday was. 

“No, I think it’s about expressing yourself and becoming something more than what you are. It gives kids a moment of exploration of themselves and creativity. Not to mention its importance for queer people and how they can have one night where they can be themselves—"

“—without the scrutiny of the public. We could walk out in drag or anything feminine whatsoever and it’s not considered threatening, even if that’s shitty in and of itself. But it’s still that opportunity.” Eddie smiled to himself. “That chance. It’s bringing a sense of fucking safety that’s otherwise missing.”

Steve nodded before he shrugged, scraping at the bottom of his cup. “Yeah, you make a good point. I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that.”

Eddie forgot that he and Steve never really had conversations like these. It was usually you who he could talk to for hours on end, deconstructing what it meant to live and how everything was about perspective. Inebriated, sober—it didn’t matter. Like those days at the aquarium, you were able to see the bigger picture at the end of the day. You talked about stuff like this without even having to be asked.

That ticket still sat in his wallet. He always took it out whenever he needed a pick-me-up. It gave him a spark of hope that life could change for the better if someone like you existed.

Steve kept talking, but Eddie was pulling out his wallet and running his fingers over the ticket like it would bring you here and he could have you here instead. 

As you and Gertrude fell into silence, you put your hand in your skirt pocket, feeling the smoothness of Eddie’s yellow pick. Tracing the edges, you wondered what it felt like for him to run it down his strings. How it fit in his fingers. 

How he was doing.

Where he was.

If he was available.

You looked at Gertrude, watching them scroll through their TikTok feed, volume up, before you stood and grabbed your purse.

“I have to go.”

Eddie watched Steve reach the very bottom of his cup, hoping there was a way for him to slip in a reason to leave. Because, holy shit, this was a piss poor excuse for a date.

He looked back over at the long line forming at the door, knowing you would die to have a cup of the wildberry lavender flavor. You were a big fan of Jeni’s Ice Cream and always gave him grief whenever he went without you. It was kind of funny how your face would screw up as you yelled at him for being a traitor. He nearly chuckled at the memory. 

And it suddenly hit him that he was way more concerned with his thoughts of you.

How your date was going.

Where you were.

If you were available.

Fuck having a good enough reason to leave.

“Can we go?”

You basically sprinted to your car, barely registering how rude you had just been. You didn’t say goodbye, didn’t even give them an excuse. But you argued to, well, yourself that telling them some shitty excuse would be ruder than not saying anything at all. 

All you wanted was to talk to Eddie and tell him about how awful your date was. How mean Gertrude was and how confused you were about what the hell you’d done to deserve their scrutiny.

Sighing, you scrambled into the front seat and tossed your phone onto the passenger seat.  Pulling out Eddie’s guitar pick, you tried to calm yourself down. You studied the brand, the tiny tortoise outline with the shell replaced with the Tortex brand name. It read that it was a Dunlop, 50mm. Smooth. Thin. The kind Eddie always said he preferred, always said it hit the strings so magically. Said it rang out the bottom E string, like it was trying to reach the heavens and got there every time. 

And there was your eyeliner, ruining it.

You shook your head, resigning to the fact that you probably should just go home and isolate yourself for a while. Try and figure out how the hell you were supposed to be normal around Eddie and Steve the next time you saw them together.

Is that how it’s going to be now? you wondered, feeling nausea pool in your stomach. Are they going to be a package deal? Is that something I could survive?

For how long?

Before you could even start your car, your phone started going off. As soon as you saw Eddie’s picture pop up, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” he breathed, sounding as exhausted as you felt.

“Hey, hello,” you replied, trying to calm yourself down. “Hi. I was actually about to call you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I just had the worst date ever,” you grumbled, trying to rub the eyeliner off the pick.

“Me, too.”

You sat up straighter, shoving the pick back in your pocket. “Really?”

“God, yeah. I’m never going to Jeni’s without you again.”

“You went to Jeni’s without me?” With Steve, you felt like adding. 

But you were going to be good. Just this once.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Like I said, I’m never going without you ever again.” You let out an irritated huff. “Listen, Weirdo, would you mind if I came over and we took some edibles and, like, watched a movie?”

Thank God.    

“Yes, please.”

“See you in twenty?”

You smiled. “See you in twenty. Traitor.”

Eddie had gotten back to your apartment at the same time as you, both fighting for the closest parking spot with playful honks. You may have almost hit his van. And he could (maybe) admit that he almost deserved it.

“That’s rude,” he said as he hopped down from the van. “That’s just—”

He stopped as he finally got a look at you. Because it wasn’t even fair anymore, the way you just being you flustered him. Just standing next to your car with a simple Joan Jett t-shirt tucked into a short skirt and black Converse. Some sword earrings. And fishnets. Fucking fishnets.

Did he mention that you were wearing a different pair than the night before?

How many do you fucking own?

“That’s just what?” you asked, looking confused.

Eddie had to get a grip. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep losing his focus whenever you were around. Hell, he was already losing his focus when you weren’t. When you were looking like this, it made everything worse. Much, much worse. 

He shook his head before poking your shoulder. “Extremely rude.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away, starting the short walk up to your apartment. “Hey, you asked me to hang and then you tried to steal my favorite parking spot? Where are your manners?”

“I think we both know I lost those years ago.”

“Okay,��weirdo,” you said.

“Uh, what did you just call me?” Eddie asked playfully, clasping his hand over his chest. 

A giggle escaped your lips as you ascended the stairs, making his smile widen.

“You heard me!” you exclaimed as you quickened your pace up the steps. “And I will not be taking it back!”

The two of you bickered like always, going back and forth with seemingly no end to each bit that you started and never truly seemed to finish. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t help himself around you, always excited to hear what you had to say or what you wanted to do. Anything you wanted, because any opportunity to be around you was an opportunity worth taking.

You decided to heat up leftover soup for you both, maneuvering around the kitchen while you complained about the weather and your upstairs neighbor who was taking all the warm water these days despite the scorching heat.

Eddie wouldn’t admit it, but he was having a hard time paying attention to your words. How could he when your hands were waving around the air and putting your hair up? How in the hell was he supposed to pay attention when you decided to run chapstick over your lips? Or when you bent down to take your shoes off, skirt riding up just enough to reveal the lining of red underwear? And how was he supposed to feel normal when you were wearing the cutest fucking socks, with black cats sporting witch hats next to a brewing cauldron? 

“I’m gonna go pick out a movie,” Eddie said suddenly, backing away from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” you said absentmindedly as you fiddled with the microwave. “That’s a really good idea. What’re you gonna put on?”

“No idea,” he lied. “Absolutely no idea.”

After you finished the chickpea and sausage soup, you and Eddie popped 10mg Delta-9 gummies and decided to chill on the couch. As soon as Eddie pressed play on your remote, you immediately knew it was the opening to When Harry Met Sally. Like always. 

But it wasn’t like you were paying attention. If anything, you were talking over it like you were in a crowded room. Small talk here and there until you were unable to keep your questions to yourself.

“So, you said your date with Steve didn’t go well,” you said. “Do you want to maybe talk about it?”

Eddie groaned, throwing his hands over his face. You may have taken the opportunity to stare at him, how his tattoos were visible. He’d shown up in his jean jacket but discarded it as if he was taunting you with only a black tank top and jeans. His guitar pick necklace around his neck. Rings. Threaded bracelets and watch. That fucking nail polish…

Focus, you told yourself. Just focus.

“I don’t know…” he trailed, biting his lip.

“I’ll share mine if you share yours,” you suggested.

A sigh left his lips before he gave in. “He thought it was predictable that I liked black and Halloween.”

“Has he even met you?” you asked, scoffing. “Of course you do. That’s, like, your whole thing. It’s not predictable, it’s just who you are.”

“I know! It was so weird. We’ve known each other since high school. I don’t know how he didn’t know that already. Rob knows more than him, apparently.”

“She’s extremely observant,” you noted.

Too observant.

“That’s a good...observation.” Now it was your turn to groan, making Eddie laugh before he added, “Now’s your turn, Weirdo.”

Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time. So what does that say about me?

“I got absolutely slammed for my shitty 2000s comedies.”

“But Michael Cera is a visionary…” he trailed, confused.

“Well, apparently they’re all problematic and I’m damaging our community.”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. So is everything else. Besides, you don’t even laugh at the bad stuff. It’s like eating around a bad food you like. It’s not like the whole plate is bad, right? Most of it’s good.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaimed, throwing your hand up. “It’s like eating at Waffle House. You know it’s not going to be the best meal you’ve ever had, but damn if those waffles don’t hit the spot every time. Especially when you’re fucked up.”

“You get it! You may be the smartest person I’ve met.”

“Or maybe the dumbest.”

“Nah, you’re pretty intelligent…when you want to be.”

“Ouch!” you said, grabbing one of your throw pillows and whacking him with it. “Take that.”

Before you could take another shot, he took the pillow from you and hit you back. “You deserved that one, Weirdo.”

You fell into gentle laughter, shaking your head at him before you sighed and leaned your head on the back cushion. Eddie readjusted, also leaning his head back so he could make eye contact with you. He wrapped his arms around the pillow, hugging it to his chest.

For a moment, you just kind of sat there and looked at him. Watched his eyes flicker back and forth between yours while you did the same. Studied the brown, the way his pupils dilated as you kept staring at each other. You couldn’t say how long that lasted before you finally said something.

“I just don’t think it’s supposed to be this hard.”

 “What, dating?” he asked, tightening his grasp on the pillow.

“Yeah.”

He nodded, letting out a hum. “I don’t think so, either.”

You looked away from Eddie’s gaze to find him fiddling with the pillow’s black fringe, clearly anxious about something. It was exactly how he played with his lighter or tapped his leg. Rapid, incessant. Finding his bearings through the texture as if it could keep his attention longer than a few seconds.

And then he said your name, bringing your eyes back to his.

“Should I keep seeing Steve?” he asked.

This time you were the one readjusting, feeling yourself scoot even closer to him. Your legs were touching, the blanket seeming to slip halfway off you two. But neither of you moved to fix it. 

“Does Steve make you happy?”

“I…I don’t know.” He let out a staggered breath. “I think so.”

And you tried not to, but your leg was slipping further down his calf. Blanket be damned—you were already starting to burn.

“Tell me something. Why do you always put When Harry Met Sally on?” you asked, trying to steer away from the subject of Steve Harrington. Trying to distract yourself from the heat building inside you. Trying to distract yourself from thinking something stupid. “I thought the second Lord of the Rings movie was your favorite. The Two Towers.”

He shrugged. “No, yeah. The Two Towers is my favorite. I just think I’ve just always related to When Harry Met Sally. Always missing my chances, opportunities. Always just one step away from getting what I want.”

Was Eddie getting…closer?

You raised an eyebrow. “Missing your chances?”

And why was he staring at your mouth?

“Yeah.”

But weren’t you also staring at his?

“Are you, um, Harry?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from doing something stupid. “Or are you Sally?”

Why was he so close to making you do something stupid?

“Depends on the day,” he said, softer this time.

And why was he leaning closer, searching your eyes for some kind of confirmation that this was okay?

And why were you about to let him?

“What do you want?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Eddie didn’t answer, the hum of Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal being the only sound left in the room other than your shared breathing. 

“What has she done? She makes desserts.”

It was growing heavier the closer he got to you, maybe the closest you’d ever been since you met. And it was so strange, the way he affected you.

“You all went to a Met game together?”

Your fingers reached out, searching for his. Found it on his thigh, also reaching for yours. Fingers touching, itching to twine. And it was so strange, the way he moved you.

“But Sally hates baseball.”

And there Eddie was, leaning in more and more, his breath seeming to intoxicate you the more it fanned over your face.

“Harry doesn’t even like sweets.”

But it was dangerous, the way he could break you.

His lips just barely brushed yours before you pulled back.

“No,” you said.

“What?” Eddie asked, leaning back. “Are you okay?”

All you could think about was Steve. Eddie literally just told you he was happy with Steve and then he was going to, what, kiss you? What business did he have doing that? And what business did you have being a homewrecker?

“I think you should go,” you said sternly, throwing the blanket off and standing.

Eddie looked up at you like he was confused. As if he wasn’t just trying to do something incredibly stupid.

“What? Really?”

You walked over to the opposite end of the living room, desperate to stay the hell away from him. Because there was some part of you that was wondering how stupid kissing him would really be. But maybe if you stayed as far away from him as possible, you wouldn’t be tempted. You couldn’t be. 

“Yep.”

Eddie shook his head, standing. “What just happened here?” he asked. “Like, seriously.”

You shook your head. “I just want you to go, Eddie. Okay?”

“No, not okay. Jesus H Christ,” he huffed, throwing the pillow on the couch. “You can’t just kick me out and not even tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You should figure that one out for yourself. You’re probably too high anyway,” you said, maybe a little too bitterly.

“It was only ten milligrams,” he emphasized. “And maybe, just maybe, I need to be given some clear fucking communication.”

“You’ll figure it out.” 

He gave you a hard stare. “Really? Is this really what you’re doing right now?”

“What?” you pushed. “What am I doing?”

Say it, you thought. Eddie, please just say it.

“Maybe you should figure that one out for yourself,” he mocked.

And before you could figure out how to respond, Eddie turned away from you. He stomped over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his keys and wallet before walking towards the door.

“For the record,” he said, turning back to look at you in the eye. “I’m completely sober. You of all people should know I have a high tolerance.”

Eddie opened the door and slammed it right behind him.

Eddie couldn’t stop his thoughts firing at a rapid pace as he nearly sprinted to the van. He was going to pass out, he was so sure of it this time. Hell, he was dying. He had to be dying. There was no way he was going to survive this.

The kiss. The fucking kiss. He was going to kiss you. He was actually going to do it.

Eddie’s fingers trembled as he tried to unlock the driver’s side. But the keys slipped from his fingers, clanging onto the asphalt. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, barely able to fight against whatever was grabbing hold of his throat and tightening its grasp. Shaking his head, he leaned his back against the driver’s side door. “Shit.”

Eddie clutched his chest for real this time, feeling his heart race. The panic was flooding his system, tears pricking at his eyes as he tried to focus on the breeze. The white noise of it moving through the trees. The stupid fucking squirrel nearly getting run over as someone barreled through the speed bumps. Your fucking Halloween socks.

This was going wrong. All of it. Every single last scrap of dignity he had was gone. He blew it. He fucking blew it.

If he was stronger, he would turn back around and bang on your door. Demand that you talk about this and tell you how your shared avoidance was going to be the death of any and all chance at a relationship. Kiss you the way he knew he could, knew he would. 

Because there was no way, no way, that nothing was happening between you two. 

He knew it. You knew it.

If only he was strong enough.

And it was occurring to him that he didn’t feel this way about Steve. If anything, he could never feel this way about him. And, frankly, he was starting to truly understand that it had nothing to do with Steve. It was everyone. He would never be able to feel this way about anyone else.

This time, Eddie couldn’t shake that off.

This time, Eddie knew that something had to change.

You couldn’t help but hope he’d turn back. That he’d walk right back in and kiss you the way you knew he could, knew he would if he wanted you like that. And maybe he did want to kiss you, you couldn’t say. But why would he continue to see Steve, bringing him up in nearly every conversation if he wanted you? What would be the point of that?

You were more confused than ever, finding yourself haunted by the scene playing on the TV behind you.

“What’s the matter with me?” Sally exclaimed.

“Nothing,” Harry said softly.

“I’m difficult!”

“You’re challenging,” he countered.

You fell back on the couch, sobbing as you listened to Harry and Sally go back and forth, nearly taunting you with how fucking accurate it was. How fucking accurate everything around you was, from music to movies and back again. 

“No, no, no! I drove him away!”

This was your fault, and now you had to live with those pesky little consequences you hadn’t thought of. You drove Eddie away and now you had no idea how much longer you had before he would fade into a stranger, a fever dream of what once was. And a reminder of what could’ve been.

[riahlynn101]

FNAF Movie 2 Theory - The BTS Photograph.

For those that care, Mimic Wednesdays will continue next week. It’s only my third week back to school, and it’s already kicking my ass. 

Spoiler warnings - most of this is simple speculation, but I’m also using casting calls and that BTS photo Scott gave us a few days back. 

Today I want to analyze this photo. I’m going to lay out the reasonable evidence first, then I’ll go into my usual rambling speculation. 

I don’t think this photo is of young William Afton. 

While it’s hard finding the definitive date when colored photos took over black-and-white photos, it happened sometime in the late-60s - early-70s. Colored photos had been available for decades before that, but that’s when most, everyday, people started using color in their photographs. 

William is in his 30s in the 1980s (if the casting call is anything to go by). If I’m being generous, I’d put his age at 30 in 1980 (for simplicity’s sake). 

This means he was born in 1950. 

The (very blurry) photo looks to be of a young boy. The age of the boy is hard to determine, but he can’t be any older than eight. 

I’ve tried to play around with the photo to see if I could catch any noticeable features, but it’s way too blurry and out of focus. 

While it wouldn’t be a stretch that it’s of William, the quality of the photograph suggests it was taken not in the 50s. This, of course, could be wrong, but for now I’m assuming it’s not of William. 

What do we know about this photo?

It’s (likely) of a boy. 

It’s (likely) a child, judging by how young they look. 

The boy has dark brown hair (we’re coming back to that). 

It’s hard to make a judgment about the boy’s eye color, but I think they might be brown. 

The photo is located in (assumingly) the Afton household. Actually, it seems to be off to the side, with one other photo. 

Speculation time!

The bite of 80-something. 

I don’t believe in Willcare. I just wanted to make that clear before I continue.

The dark-haired boy is this movie’s stand-in for C.C.

I know we all figured it was Garrett, but what if that’s not the case? What if Garrett was a red-herring?

What if, during a party, at a Freddy’s restaurant (don’t know if Fredbears is a thing in this universe), in 1983, 9-year-old Vanessa is sick and tired of her whiny younger brother. 

Maybe she takes over Michael Afton’s role and torments C.C. 

On this particular day, she, along with a few other friends, causes her brother to be killed via animatronic bite. 

These friends are Jeremy Fitzgerald (maybe) and Mike Schmidt. 

I don’t know enough about this universe’s Jeremy, so for now, I’m not going to say anything else about him. 

Mike, on the other hand, is a year younger than Vanessa at eight-years-old. His parents are expecting another child soon (or maybe Garrett’s already born), and he’s feeling left out and jealous. 

He’s never felt this way before, so he has no idea how to accurately tell someone how he’s feeling. 

This leaves him feeling angry, and his temper is often frayed. 

It doesn’t help that the only one who will pay him attention is his aunt. And that doesn’t always mean positive attention. 

So, when Vanessa asks him to help her torment C.C, he obliges. 

C.C’s dead. Mike, Vanessa, and the other kids are traumatized. 

William uses this event to keep Vanessa from running away. 

Mike’s family moves away, and he decides to fully-embrace becoming a big brother. 

For a while, their life is peaceful. 

Then, in 1987, William kidnaps and kills Garrett as revenge. 

The photo is of Mike: 

Now, this doesn’t mean that Mike’s an Afton. 

I know it seems odd that William would have a random photo of a kid that’s not his, but hear me out. 

Mike is an Emily (or this universe’s equivalent of an Emily). 

Assuming that the casting call for the dark haired boy is supposed to be younger than Young Michael’s casting call. 

It’s hard using height to determine age, as 12-year-old Michael is ½ an inch shorter than adult Mike. 

But they do specify they want someone shorter, around 4’0. 

Mike was kind of tall at 12, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he was tall his entire childhood. 

If we assume that this is 1. Mike 2. The DHB casting is also Mike. 3. Mike was 8 in 1983. 4.  And that he would have been four or five in 1980. 

Then we can start to paint a picture. 

Mike is an Emily (or where I go off the deep end):

The little sister casting specifically asks for a four-year-old. 

If there's multiple flashbacks, who’s to say that it won’t showcase multiple years. 

What if one of the flashbacks takes place in 1979-1980. 

What if Fredbear’s family diner really does exist in this timeline?

The date on the restaurant’s license is 1979-1980. Maybe this is foreshadowing for the actual opening date of Fredbear’s. 

Now, if Fredbear’s opens in 1979 (in the FNAF movie universe), this would place Mike at the little girl’s age. 

I mean, even if they’re asking for a kid that’s a little older than four, it’s not like they’re not strangers to using older kids for younger roles (look at Garrett’s actor, he was six, playing a four-year-old).

Mike and the little girl (which I will now call Charlie, for sake of ease) are the same age.

You might even call them twins….

William’s obsession with Henry and Henry’s humanity is a common theme throughout all of the FNAF timelines. 

Maybe in this one, he tries to push that obsession down.

And, for a while, it works. 

He plays the loving uncle to Mike and Charlie. 

He even takes Mike under his wing.

One, because it means he has something over Henry. 

Two, because Henry, in every universe, is neglectful of his children until it’s far too late. 

One day, in 1980, Charlie Emily is found dead.

Henry is blamed, and he’s sent to prison. 

Mike is so young and so traumatized by the death of his sister that he blacks it all out.

1 of 4 ways this plays out:

Henry’s wife is still around. 

She’s Garrett and Abby’s mom. 

She takes Mike and moves away, starting fresh in a new state. 

She remarries quickly, having Garrett a few years later.

The reason Garrett’s death hit her so hard (besides the obvious) is that she’s already lost two children. 

And she was never upset that Abby was born a girl, though that’s the assumption she left Mike and likely her husband with. She was upset, because for the first time in a decade, she was reminded of her first baby girl. And the guilt finally caught up with her. 

There’s also the chance that she blames Mike, and thinks (irrationally) that he’s the reason that her babies are gone. 

From her POV, Mike was there when Charlie went missing, and he was there when Garrett went missing. 

2 of 4:

Henry’s wife is still alive, but they divorced shortly after the twins were born. 

Mike is sent to live with her and her new husband. 

3 of 4:

Henry’s wife isn’t around.

Aunt Jane, Henry, and Mr. Schmidt are all siblings.

When Henry’s sent to jail, Jane takes Mike in. 

As most young children do when faced with confusing emotions and tense situations, Mike acted out. 

He threw constant tantrums, and for all her faults in the future, Jane tried her very best to make him comfortable. 

But the amount of therapy he’d need was way above her budget, so she asked her brother to take him. 

Mike was then adopted by the Schmidts. 

He may have even gotten his name changed from Sammy to give him a fresh start. 

4 of 4:

Henry’s wife isn’t around. 

Aunt Jane, Mr. Schmidt, and Henry are siblings, BUT they’re all estranged. 

Mike, who’s Sammy at this point, is placed with the Aftons. 

For a few months he lives under William’s roof. 

The photo on the mantle is the only proof that he ever lived there at all. 

He lived there until his social worker got in contact with Mr. Schmidt. 

The reason Vanessa doesn’t (seemingly) remember him (despite his picture still being there) is that one, he looks different. Two, he had a different name. And three, she was told he was taken by the state. 

Mike wouldn’t remember due to trauma, his age, and his parents doing everything in their power to sweep it under the rug. 

They thought by giving him a new name and a fresh start, it would help him.

But it just caused him to have violent temper tantrums, or at least a short temper.

(I might add more to this later).

Sorry for the length, but I’ve been thinking about this for days.

[moodymelanist]

Last anon again, for more of an angsty wlw Nessian maybe Nesta finding out that Mor is Cass's ex and getting insecure about it? Only if that vibes with you of course!

just something quick from when I was waiting for the eclipse to peak earlier 🌘🌘

“That’s your ex?” Nesta seethed the second Mor walked into the party, turning to look at Cass with as fierce of a glare as she could muster up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I didn’t know she would be here,” Cass replied with a grimace. “It’s not like I planned this!”

Cass had invited Nesta as her plus one to Rhysand’s birthday party, and to everyone’s surprise, the ever-elusive Morrigan had been in town long enough to actually show up. Nesta had never met the other woman until just now, although she’d heard plenty about her over the almost eight months she and Cass had been officially dating.

Perfect, golden Mor, with her sunny smiles and bubbly personality. She was the exact opposite of Nesta, and God, did Nesta fucking know it. She was actually personable, people seemed excited to see her, and she had to be one of the most gorgeous women Nesta had ever seen.

What the hell was someone like Cass doing with someone like Nesta when Mor was in her orbit? Nesta was all sharp edges and snarky comments on the best of days, and seeing Mor in the flesh was like a slap in the face. Cass could be doing so much better; who the hell was Nesta to think she deserved someone like Cass—

“Sweetheart,” Cass said, calling Nesta’s attention back to her. Her girlfriend was biting her lip a little nervously, and Nesta would’ve felt bad for worrying her had she not been so caught up in her own head. “You okay?”

“She’s just…” Nesta trailed off, not sure how to answer the question. “I just don’t get why you’d settle for me when you already had someone like that.”

“Settle for you?” Cass repeated with an incredulous little laugh. Nesta’s eye twitched a little at being laughed at, and Cass sighed heavily. “Sorry, sorry. I just — Nes, why would you ever think that?”

“Because she’s actually nice and friendly and a way better person than me,” Nesta grumbled. “So.”

Cass sighed again before guiding Nesta to a more secluded area of the bar they were in. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’d never actually seen her before,” Nesta eventually answered, wishing she was anywhere but here having this conversation about her feelings. “And now I’m just sitting here watching everyone love on her!”

“Not me,” Cass argued back with a little frown. She pushed some of her curls back out of her face before adding, “I’ve been over her for years, Nes. I love you.”

“What?” Nesta blurted out, shocked. They hadn’t said those words yet, and to say it here of all places…

“That wasn’t— I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Cass answered. Her cheeks were turning a little red and she stepped in closer to Nesta. “I’m sorry.”

“But did you mean it?” Nesta asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Yes,” Cass told her. “Sweetheart, come on, how couldn’t I feel that way?”

“You already had the best,” Nesta muttered.

“You’re not a fucking downgrade,” Cass snapped, clearly losing her patience a little bit. “She fucking cheated on me! Why would I want to go back to that?”

Nesta felt like a little bit of an idiot, but to be fair, they hadn’t exactly talked about it. “Oh.”

“And even if she hadn’t,” Cass continued, clearly on a roll now, “you’re way out of my fucking league, and I’m in love with you, so why does this even matter.”

“Just— because,” Nesta answered lamely. It was a little hard to feel insecure when Cass had said twice now that she loved Nesta, but her brain seemed to always find a way. “I’m sorry. This was stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Cass automatically countered. “I just hate that you’re thinking about yourself like this, Nes.”

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Cass leaned down to give Nesta a kiss, her lips warm and soft against Nesta’s. “You ready to go back to the party now?”

“Yeah,” Nesta said, and then was embarrassed all over again when realized she hadn’t answered Cass’ words earlier. “And I love you too, you know.”

“I know,” Cass said back with an easy grin. She offered Nesta her hand and they both smiled a little goofily at each other for a few moments. “Come on, Nes.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

[cloudbersoo]

i like you | zb1 hyung line

synopsis: how zb1 hyung line would confess to you

tags: member x gn!reader, fluff, fluff, just fluff!!

my playlist while writing: dust by seventeen, about you by the 1975

word count: 1.2k in total

a/n: hi again! didn’t think i'd write again so soon but it’s raining and i was bored so here i am. i’d like to thank everyone who read my first fic, the likes made me really happy as i didn’t think that many people would’ve found it in the first place! thank you thank you!!!

kim jiwoong 

i think jiwoong probably approached you with the intent of dating you

so he would be quite straightforward with his feelings right from the begging

he always complimented you and flirted with you, so it wasn’t like his feelings weren’t obvious to you

he’d take you on a nice date and walk you home like a gentleman

would finally confess his feelings to you at your doorstep

your third date with jiwoong was coming to an end as you approached your apartment. every date with him has been better than the previous one. you were comfortable with jiwoong and he seemed like a great guy overall, someone you wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with. you were just waiting for him to make the final move. 

he was still holding onto your hand as you two stood in front of your door. he seemed to be in thought, looking at your intertwined hands. “thank you for tonight” he finally spoke. jiwoong raised his gaze to your eyes, keeping eye contact, as he took a step closer to you. “i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, and would like to keep going” he continued. his hands now finding their place on your hips.

“i really like you y/n, and i would love to be your boyfriend, if you just let me.”

zhang hao

hao wouldn’t make a big deal out of a confession

he’s pretty sure your feelings are mutual (i mean who wouldn’t like him back?)

so he isn’t stressed about rejection

thinks confessing his feelings to you is just one small step in a larger story

he just had to find the right moment to do it

since meeting hao through a mutual friend about a year ago, you have only gotten closer as time went on. people were usually surprised to hear the two of you weren’t dating, as you apparently acted like an old married couple. you never took such comments too seriously, and you would laugh about it together, while still deep down knowing there was something more than friendship between the two of you.

it was another movie night between you and hao, something that has become an almost weekly thing for the two of you. you had chosen a random romcom where the two main leads were friends, hopelessly in love with one another and had no courage to tell each other how they felt. zhang hao found it ironic that he was watching the movie with you, the person he has been in love with for some time now (and was quite sure you felt the same), and never had the courage to actually do something about the feeling you shared. 

“it’s kinda funny isn't it? we’re just like them.”

sung hanbin

unlike hao, hanbin would make a big deal out of a confession

he’d plan for weeks, asking help from his members

hanbin would be very nervous and would barely be able to sleep the night before

he just wants everything to go well

ends up surprising you with flowers and a speech about how much you mean to him

hanbin has been acting weird for a few weeks now, but you were relieved when he finally promised to tell you what had been bothering him lately. he had been very secretive about everything, when he had asked you to meet him in the park at eight o’clock, but you assured him you were going to be there. so there you were, exactly at eight, with yet any sighs of the boy. 

a few minutes later you recognised hanbin walking towards you. he seemed nervous, even from afar. he was hiding something behind his back as he approached you. he greeted you, giving you a sweet smile to hide his nervousness. his hands sweaty, he revealed a bouquet of flowers behind his back, handing them out to you. surprised but happy, you accepted the bouquet as hanbin finally spoke.

“i don’t know where i should even start… you mean the world to me y/n.”

seok matthew

matthew lowkey confessed to you by accident

he would be telling you about his day as normal

then he would blurt out something that would reveal his true feelings to you

and you’d be a blushing mess and be like “what?”

he’d noticed his slip out too late and decides to just tell you everything

it was a normal evening for you and your friend, as you talked about your days. telling each other all the good and bad, relieving stress in each other's presence. matthew loved telling you about his friends' antics at the dorm or at practice, telling you whatever comes to his mind first. he was like that, he had basically no filter around you. 

“...and then hanbin pointed out i always find a way to include you in a conversation, which is true but he had no right to point that out as someone who’s totally obsessed with hao hyung! and then guess what? they started teasing me about how much i love you-” he suddenly stopped, noticing you frozen where you sat, face completely flushed pink. realising what he had just said, his face soon matched yours.

“oh, well… i guess it was sooner or later i would’ve told you anyway…”

kim taerae

would confess to you with a song! (cliche, i know)

there was an open mic event at a local cafe that you made taerae to participate in

he would start his last song by saying it was dedicated to you

the song was the most obvious declaration of love anyone has ever heard

he’d be super shy as he approached you after the show (so don’t keep him waiting for an answer too long or he’ll explode!)

there weren’t often times when your best friend would leave you speechless, but tonight was one of them. he had just sung the most beautiful love song you have ever heard, and he had dedicated it to you in front of everyone at the cafe. this might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done to you, and you doubt it would ever be topped. your heart was racing, you never knew your friend could have such an effect on you. 

“thank you” you heard taerae say to the mic, finally exiting the stage. applause filled the room, a shy smile entering his face. you could see taerae’s friends going up to him to congratulate him. he eventually dared to look at you, still very shy, knowing the conversation that was waiting the two of you. you could hear his friend’s whistling, as taerae finally had the courage to approach you.

“so? did you like it?”

- end

[liminalmemories21]

Fuck It Friday

tagged by @jesuisici33.

Apparently I'm just using this tag as a way to post outtakes.

This is a deleted/rewritten from Knave 2 that eventually became "Then - 7 Months Ago (August)". The two bear almost no resemblance to each other, but it was the same idea of TK's past coming back to haunt him. Also, I'm still kind of playing around with the idea of what exactly Carlos's colleagues think of him, and more specifically him and TK.

“Am I a problem for you?”  TK asks suddenly.

And it feels like such a non sequitur that he’s lost.  “What?”

“At the station, am I a problem for you?”

“What did this guy say to you?”

TK shrugs, “Nothing that wasn’t true, and that’s fine when it’s me.  My sins, my penance.”

“How very Catholic of you,” Carlos says dryly, on autopilot, trying to find the plot thread to this conversation.

TK smiles briefly, but the smile drops away again almost instantly.  "The guy who taught me how to grift, he told me once that you have to get out of the game as soon as you have something you aren’t willing to lose."

And he’s not following, and feels stupid.  TK gives him an unhappy look.  “I thought I’d done it right.  I got clean.  I got out.  But it’s always going to follow me around, I just don’t want it to follow you around too.”

He reaches out, and then stops just shy of touching TK, not sure if he’s welcome.  “I think I’m going to need an actual verb at some point.”

“I’ve heard people talking, at the station, when I drop something off, or if I meet you there.”

“Who?” he asks sharply.  “Garvey?  Because Garvey’s a dick to everyone who isn’t a middle aged white guy.”

TK frowns, “No, not Garvey, although that kind of proves my point.”

“TK seriously, can you start at the beginning and just keep going until the end so I can figure out what the hell is going on?”

TK looks up, startled.  “Shit.  I’ve never actually seen you lose your patience.”  He glances at his watch.  “That took what, eight months?  That has to be a record for me.”

He gives in to exasperation and worry and tugs TK over to the couch and pulls him down.  “TK.”

TK’s smile is brief and humorless.  “Massey - the guy on the our Board - he said he’d been talking about the program over dinner, mentioned my name.  Next day his brother-in-law stopped by his office with a bunch of stories about me - true stories as it happens, although I’m not sure he cared a lot about asking that question.  He said he’d brought it up with Tanya who was,” he makes air quotes, “‘woefully naive’, so it was his responsibility as a Board member to keep an eye on me.”  He waves a hand, “which, whatever, as long as he doesn’t try and get me fired I don’t actually care.”

“But?”

TK blows out a breath, “But then he mentioned you.  Said he’d heard that we were involved.  Said that was the kind of thing that didn’t reflect well on young detective,” he scowls, “dude seriously talked like he was an 80 year old out of Dickens’ novel.”  He flicks a glance at Carlos.  “He said, it was the kind of thing that made people think twice about coming for backup.”

Carlos takes a steadying breath.  “Okay, sweetheart, this is what’s been tying you up in knots?”  TK nods, frowning.  “I’m gay, Tejano, and a legacy hire.  People thought twice about coming for backup a long time before I started dating you.”

TK flashes him a wry smile.  “You’re saying I should get over myself?”

He snorts, “I’m saying that I know who to trust and who not to, and none of that is a calculus that’s changed in the last eight months.  And, even if it had, I still wouldn’t give you up for it.”

“I can’t be the reason you get hurt,” TK says seriously.

“Off the top of my head I can think of five people at the station you might have overheard saying shitty things about me.  They’ve been saying them since I got there.  I worked hard for my job, and I earned it whatever anyone else might think.  And, I’m not giving it up because someone who's living in a fantasy of the 1950s doesn't want me there, and I'm sure as hell not giving you up for them."

“How do you go to work every day if you think that?”

He looks at TK with a straight face, “Well it helps that I’m 99.9% sure that I’m having much better sex than they are.”

TK gapes at him for a moment, and then shoves him, hard and he topples back into the sofa cushions laughing.  “This is your idea of being comforting?”

He straightens up, and reaches for TK’s hand with less hesitation this time.  “I think I can’t change anyone’s opinion by willing it, all I can do is live up to my own expectations for myself and hope that they can respect that.  Giving up someone I love, because someone tells me to, I couldn’t respect myself if I did that, so how can I ask someone else to respect me?”

TK looks at him seriously.  “I think you’re giving other people too much credit, but it’s working in my favor so I’m not gonna argue too hard.”

tagging anyone who has outtakes they want to share, because like anyone who grew up with DVD blooper reels, I love me an extra.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Fourteen.

Wow, besties! You reached that unlock at speed! Something tells me that you’re going to be exactly the same with this chapter, too :D Thanks for your engagement as usual, and I hope you enjoy!

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 1,638

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Ahhh, stories from respective pasts. A fantastic way to get to know someone, and be thoroughly entertained throughout. At that point in the evening, and with the storm showing no signs of abating, they were covering the school years. 

“So I ask her again, and she predictably tells me no, but by this point I feel like my fuckin’ bladder is gon’ burst, so I just said to her, ‘fine, you asked for this’, got up, walked over to her plant in the corner, and pissed right in the pot. She starts screaming at me, I calmly told her that she should have just let me go to the bathroom, but at least with my way, she got to see the fact I had a real big dick, so it was a win win scenario.  

“The entire class went crazy laughing, she reported me to the principal, but it was only the comment I made about my dick I got in trouble for. Turns out the principal’s wife was a urologist, and so because he knew how bad it was to hold a piss in, she got in deep shit for not allowing kids to go to the bathroom.  

“That ain’t even the wildest part of the story, though. I saw her in a bar years later, and gave her hell about what a tyrant she used to be. She just stood there and took it, then said that since I’d grown up to be such a knockout, I should let her make it up to me. I went home with her that night and fucked her until her bed broke.”

Hannah almost choked on her wine. “Oh my god!”

“What?” he laughed, his dirty chuckle filling the room. “She was a bitch, but she was hot!”

“I’d say I can’t believe that you fucked your former teacher, but it’s you after all.” She nudged him with a teasing foot, Manny grabbing her leg and tickling behind her knee, where he knew she couldn’t bear to be touched. “Get off me!” she cried, her giggles sending sparks of happiness through his insides. It had been a while, since he’d been playful like that with a woman.

“Oh and I bet you were nothing short of perfect at school, right?”  

She fought against him, kicking his thigh until he finally let go. “I was, actually. About the worst thing I did was let the fire alarm off to get a guy I liked out of a test. He never really noticed me like that before, until I walked past him when we were filed up outside, whispered ‘you’re welcome’, winked and walked away. I’d like to think that was one of my smoother moments in life.”

“And did it work? Not that you should have needed to resort to such, being as gorgeous as you are.”  

She nodded, dropping her head for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, it worked. We dated for four months before I broke up with him. Me and my poor impulse control struck, the impulse being that the quarterback of the football team asked me out, and I looked at him as a better option.”

Manny leaned forward slightly, arching an eyebrow as he lifted his glass to his lips. “And was he?”

“Nope! I never seem to learn my lesson there. Then again, the last time I acted on impulse, I got something wonderful.” He gestured for her to continue, watching her smile grow. “I got Lola.”

“And you didn’t end up married to an asshole either,” he observed, draining his glass, Hannah hauling herself up to fetch the second bottle from the kitchen. “Anything more there, or is he sticking to his restraining order?”

“I’ve had a few phone calls come through where no one talks, and I know it’s him. I block all the numbers he calls me from just as I always have, but he’s persistent, uses pay phones, I think at one point he was using cheap prepay phones as well. I just have to keep a diary of it, but it’ll be hard to prove it’s him unless he talks. It’s a nuisance, but what can I do?” Sitting down again, she topped up their glasses, setting the bottle down on the table. “I heard through the grapevine that he moved away recently, he’s gone up to northern Cali somewhere, so as long as he isn’t a physical presence in my life, I don’t mind so much.”  

“I do,” he stated with vehemence. “I mind him bothering you. If he ever does turn up again, you tell me, okay? Fuck the police, fuck the courts, you come and you tell me. He’ll leave you alone for good.”  

Her eyes widened a little. “You wouldn’t...” she made a gun motion against her head, her thumb pulling an imaginary trigger, “would you?”

“No! Don’t be crazy, of course I wouldn’t. But I’d make him believe I would.” That was only half the truth. If he ever physically came near his daughter in a threatening way, Michael would cease to breathe, although that wasn’t a truth Manny was quick to share with her mother. “And I’d probably smack him around a little, just for daring to fuck with someone I care about.”

He couldn’t help but add that, the wine getting to him a little. Anything stronger than beer, and it was essentially like giving him truth serum.  

“Manny,” she warned gently, reaching for his arm. “Please, don’t.” It took him a moment to answer, the feel of her hand upon him, her skin on his, even though so innocently placed there making a jolt run straight to the pit of his belly.  

He raised his eyebrows, recovering himself. “He’ll be fine, unless he breaks his restraining order. I saw it, when you broke down and revealed it all, just how fucking stressed out the motherfucker had made you. That don’t happen on my watch, Hannah.” Pausing, he leaned forward, reaching for her face, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t matter how unique it all is, our relationship as parents, what could have been, if the circumstances were different. I meant it when I said I care about you.”  

Perhaps he hadn’t recovered himself sufficiently enough, the blue of her eyes like cloudless skies he wished only to sail through, shining through the candlelight. His mouth felt dry, taking another swig of wine, his heart beginning to pound. No. He couldn’t act. He had to shove it down again, but the lure of her. Oh, the lure, his loins burning at the memory of how it felt, when he was with her. Fuck.  

In turn, the pull she felt to him was intense, like he’d lassoed her insides, as only an accomplished cowboy could, the rope being wound in with every statement that passed over his lips, every compliment, her foundations feeling shaky in the presence of him. Despite herself, her hand covered his, the light of her gaze meeting the dark of his, both paused, perhaps for too long... or not long enough... the wine clouding them, the memories of one another returning. As if that attraction had ever been far from the surface.  

The storm outside swirled with all the potency of what they’d both tried to push down, the sky illuminated as Manny set his glass down, taking hers from her hand, moving up the couch, his hands gripping her knees, opening them enough for his body to slot between them, the boom of thunder rocking the ground as their mouths met.  

Any reservations they might have had were swept away as they fell headlong down the rabbit hole, the tempting promise of what they would experience in their own Neverland of blissful sin tugging at them too strongly, dragging them down, until all that was left was them. There was no Carmen, no time between their only night together and then, no reason why not. Only them.  

A scattered path of kisses scorched her skin, the firm grip of his hands moving to pull at her vest, Hannah suddenly stopping him.  

“I... I look... different.” Her stammered words made him pause, searching her eyes, resting his forehead to hers. “I don’t look as good as I used to, since the baby.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” His kisses landed softer, his haste calmed as he slowly lifted her vest, pulling it from her body, her sweats next to go, Manny sitting back on his heels as he looked down at her, his gaze finding the nerves in her eyes. “This body is beautiful. You know why? It’s the body that grew my child safely for nine months, and if you think just because it’s a tiny bit different to how I remember that it’ll put me off, then you’re crazy. Now, lie back and let me show you just how goddamned beautiful I think you are.”  

She’d be lying if she said her confidence had been truly bolstered in the wake of his praise, no matter how lovely his words were, but still, she felt desired enough to pull him back to her, their mouths locked together, undoing his shirt as kisses of sugared embers grew hotter, the feel of his skin on hers torridly enchanting.  

“Wait.” Sitting up, he lifted her, Hannah wrapping herself around him. “I need more room than a couch has to really fuckin’ enjoy you, darlin’.”

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind them, so did the chapter of them entitled ‘Two parents trying desperately to convince themselves there was only a child connecting them.’ And lord, the chapter they would write together to follow, only legible until the flames that roared between them threatened to burn each word off the page entirely.  

[themculibrary]

Non-Explicit Slash Pairings Masterlist

a developing habit (ao3) - Moransroar steve/tony G, 3k

Summary: Courtesy of having spent years in the ice, Steve can’t stand the cold. Luckily, there is someone who can help him with that.

aim (ao3) - visiblemarket clint/phil M, 61k

Summary: Clint “Hawkeye” Barton takes on a contract for one Philip J. Coulson. It all goes downhill from there.

(And uphill for a while. Then downhill again. Mostly downhill, overall).

all it takes is faith, trust, and a dream (ao3) - Espressosaur, ohstars steve/bucky G, 45k

Summary: A road trip, a fairytale, a prince, and a boy who never grew up, together they make a story filled with magic.

below freezing (ao3) - aftersoon (notboldly) rhodey/tony M, 11k

Summary: When Rhodey crash lands in the Himalayan wilderness, it tests more than just his survival skills.

bless this ink and our souls (ao3) - Akira_of_the_Twilight bucky/clint/steve/tony T, 5k

Summary: Steve and Tony venture to Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law to bless the ink that they will need for their protection spell.

Things get heated between Steve and Tony, and Matt Murdock reveals a secret of Tony’s that leaves Steve stunned.

camping for three (ao3) - hopelessly_me clint/steve, bucky/clint, bucky/clint/steve T, 3k

Summary: Clint plans a camping trip so he can try to learn a little bit more about Bucky and if a three-way relationship is something that can work for everyone.

come on closer (ao3) - Epiphanyx7 steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: [[… porn.]]

Or, the one where Steve wants to talk to Tony about something important.

hand over your heart (ao3) - cherryvanilla clint/phil, steve/tony M, 7k

Summary: If a top secret file on Phil Coulson and Clint Barton’s relationship existed, it would look something like this.

have i changed? (ao3) - katling tony/stpehen T, 141k

Summary: I liked you more before you met the Avengers.

It’s an offhand comment that Tony wasn’t sure he was actually meant to hear. But he did and he doesn’t know what it means. Lucky for him, Rhodey’s got an answer for him.

hey, stephen (i’ve been holding back this feeling) (ao3) - hopelessrdj tony/stephen G, 11k

Summary: Tony Stark and Stephen Strange have never met each other before until the day every student at their university gets forced into attending one co-educative class not connected to their major. Both geniuses end up in the music department and in order to make it more interesting they come up with a competition between the two of them.

it’s been a long, long time (ao3) - darling_highness steve/bucky T, 4k

Summary: Steve and Bucky on vacation…

once lost (now found) (ao3) - Teeelsie bucky/clint M, 40k

Summary: There’s a beat and then Phil says, “Clint, you don’t have anything to prove.”

And that stings, because, “If you think I’m doing this to prove anything to anyone, then you don’t know me half as well as I thought you did.” He hears Phil sigh on the other end of the comm. “Besides,” Clint tells him, “I’ll have back-up. I’ll have Barnes. Hawkeye out.” He reaches up and clicks off the comm, cutting off Phil’s continued objection mid-word.

Eight days these assholes have had Barnes and he’s not going to let them keep him for another hour, much less another day. He doesn’t have anything to prove, but he sure as hell isn’t going to give anyone any reason to question his actions, either.

shelter from cold (ao3) - torchestogether peter/wade M, 7k

Summary: The snowstorm was too severe for anyone to sleep out on the streets. Peter knew it was a bad idea, but even Deadpool deserved to have someone looking out for him.

six feet apart but definitely gay (ao3) - hvllanders ned/peter G, 2k

Summary: or

Five Times Peter and Ned Fail at Telling People They’re Dating and One Time They Don’t

sky is clear tomorrow (ao3) - sketchnurse sam/bucky T, 5k

Summary: Yeah, Sarah was getting a little frustrated with Bucky flirting with her like the old charmer he was and nothing more. There had to be something going on, and Sam was getting asked what Bucky’s deal was whether he liked it or not. Then Sarah figures out that she might not be the only Wilson eyeing up that tree trunk of a man…

space is for the birds (ao3) - hopelessly_me bucky/clint/steve T, 3k

Summary: Clint gets elected by Tony to travel to space with him to repair a spaceship, and all Clint wants to do is get back home to Bucky and Steve.

three men in a vw (ao3) - Brokenpitchpipe steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Steve steps back into the car and closes the door, lips still tingling.

“You don’t like blondes,” Bucky says.

Sam chokes.

trading in on our names (ao3) - pherryt clint/bucky T, 11k

Summary: Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier didn’t know each others identities. Being mercenaries meant secrets both inside and outside of the jobs. That didn’t stop either of them from admiring from afar, resigned to never going any further.

Then Clint and Bucky started dating and life got a little more complicated…

under stars (ao3) - vulcantastic steve/tony T, 14k

Summary: Commander Tony Stark, just kicked off the USS Expedition for mutiny, finds comfort in an ensign wandering the halls of the USS Quinjeti at 0400 hours. Southern comfort, no less.

who we are (ao3) - reclusiveq steve/bucky G, 3k

Summary: When Bucky comes home beat up, Steve is left to wonder why. His search for an answer will reveal a truth his friend may not be ready to share.

[redxpranger]

1/15/2025 🦖

My fondness for animated films is something I don’t often share, especially since I rely on them to help me sleep. These shows comfort me, keeping nightmares at bay and making me feel less lonely. Alongside my trusty pillow barricade, they create a sense of safety that I’ve held onto since I was a child.

This habit of playing animated shows and leaving the TV on until I fall asleep began when I was eight years old. It seems to resurface only during times when I’m not feeling okay. The soothing sounds of the shows and the soft glow of the screen create a comforting and safe space, helping me feel a little less alone.

It all began one early morning on a school day when I was sick, lying alone on the living room couch. Around that time, I first fell in love with the early hours of 3 to 5 a.m., when Hey Arnold! and SpongeBob SquarePants aired on TV. Strangely enough, I actually hated Hey Arnold!—his football-shaped head drove me crazy. Yet, I watched it religiously, purely to amuse myself with how annoyed I got. Looking back, it still makes me laugh 😂

Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about life before streaming platforms existed. Back then, you had to memorize TV schedules and plan your day just to catch your favorite shows. I still remember the sadness of missing a new episode of WWE or the pure joy when my brother and I stayed home to watch the shows we both loved. I also remember the excitement of sleeping over at my grandparents’ house, especially after my parents decided to opt out of subscribing to TV channels at home. I would stubbornly refuse to sleep since all the best shows were aired late at night or early in the morning.

Today, with streaming platforms, we can watch anything, anywhere, anytime. While I’m grateful for the convenience, I feel lucky to have experienced those simpler times, where the anticipation and excitement of “TV time” made it all the more special.

Even now, I stay up-to-date with new animated films, though there are some I can’t stand. For instance, I’ve never admitted this before, but I really dislike Bluey. HAHAHA! Her attitude drives me crazy, and I honestly find her worse than Peppa Pig.

At one point, I remember wanting to study how the shows my younger cousins watched influenced their character, speech, and thinking. I’ve always been intrigued by how media consumption shapes people—it’s a subtle yet powerful way to understand someone or even influence them. It fascinates me because art, in all its forms, holds immense power, yet it often goes unnoticed by most. Unfortunately, that research never happened, as I rarely get to spend time with the kids. Still, it’s fascinating to think about how much of ourselves is shaped by the art we consume. That’s why I find questions like "What films do you watch?" or "What’s your favorite film?" to be so personal—they feel like I’m exposing parts of myself, laying bare things I might not be ready to share.

It saddens me that many children today are missing out on healthy, meaningful animated shows like Go! Go! Cory Carson and Trash Truck on Netflix. These shows exemplify kindness, creativity, and the beauty of friendship and family. They model what it means to own your mistakes and make amends, while also celebrating the beauty of family and the joy of true friendship. I can’t help but wish more kids—and parents—knew about these gems.

I have to confess: I’m still heartbroken over Gravity Falls. When the series ended, it felt like a piece of my world had disappeared. It took me years to move on, and even now, seeing it on Disney+ stirs up old emotions. But with time, I’ve come to appreciate the writer’s brilliance in creating a fitting ending for such an incredible show. 👏🏼

I’m currently experiencing the same heartbreak with Go! Go! Cory Carson. Last year, I even emailed the creators, expressing how much the show means to me and asking if there were plans for another season. Unlike Gravity Falls, this show had no ending—it was just discontinued, and that feels so unfair! 🥺 I even found myself crying at random moments because I love the show so much. I wanted everyone to watch it, to support the talented team behind it, and to help bring it back.

Moments like these remind me how emotional and soft I am, but I think that’s okay. 😏 My love for Go! Go! Cory Carson and Trash Truck runs deep because these shows are truly special. They teach invaluable lessons about family, friendship, empathy, and creativity in ways that resonate with people of all ages. I just hope one day they’ll get the attention they deserve.

[iainwrites]

I did a alpha version of this years ago for a Folklore course and that shows all the skills of a early 20-something student with little writing experience and little life experience. Flash-forward 13 odd years, and even though it was good enough to be published, I'm still not all the way happy with it. Maybe it's the curse of the writer: it's never done well enough. Anyways, Christmas tradition in the style of a Cape Breton family.

It started during a Christmas in the mid to late 1980’s. This would have marked the holiday season where my mother’s family and their in-laws first gathered together.  There only would have been a handful of my cousins around at this time; this is before the family grew into The Clan.  I’m not exaggerating when I call us a Clan.  A mother and father, 11 children, their spouses and partners, close to 25 grandchildren (a number of them with partners and spouses) and a growing number of great grandchildren.  Extended family, friends of family and occasional drop-ins by familiar strangers.  But the story starts before all of that. 

My Dad claims he was the one who coined the name “The Food Olympics.”  An uncle claims otherwise.  I don’t think either would be able to pin down an exact date for when the name came up, but both have an equally creative mind for creating a nickname for an event like this.  The originator of the name isn’t that important, however; just the fact that the event exists is all that matters at this point.  And while you can’t draw a 1:1 comparison to the actual Olympic Games (ours only last for 8 days and see the same hosts year after year) they do share similar aspects.  There may not be any shot-putting or downhill skiing, but there are unofficial competitions like “Who can eat the most fish chowder” and “Who can stay awake the longest.” There may not be any medals, but bragging rights are definitely coveted.  And while you may not be able to predict everything that may happen, there is a definite structure to the whole event. 

So here begins the pattern: On Christmas Day, the clan would converge on my grandmother’s house during the afternoon and start the event with small sweets, tea, coffee, juices and other light foods.  Much like a typical event, you need to ease yourself into anything strenuous.  Someone would always ignore this rule, however, and suffer for it.  It wouldn’t be the loudest of the events, or the best attended, but it served as an excellent Opening Ceremony. 

The actual activities would begin on Boxing Day in earnest.  Families would trickle in during the afternoon, slowly filling the upstairs living room and kitchen, before spilling downstairs into the den, and ultimately finding any square inch of flat surface that could be used as a seat or an impromptu table.  After waiting patiently (some of us were more patient than others, as there is an unnamed family member who always managed to be at the front of the line as soon as the call went out and would receive good natured ribbing in the process), the food would begin to be rolled out and the Food Olympics would officially begin.   

In the process of recalling this part of our family’s history, I’ve been wracking my brains to try and remember the exact combinations of foods that would be available on any given night.  I know for certain that meat balls were on this particular menu because I discovered early on the delicacy that is meatballs sandwiched between Italian bread. I must also note that while we are not officially sponsored, a gathering was not complete without a spread of cold cuts from Horyls. I think there also may have been lasagna on the table at any given time, but those sandwiches were my go-to. 

After Boxing Day, hosting would often revolve around individual schedules, but we would always end up at the same homes during this eight-day window.  Hams, pastas, and sweet and sour meatballs were commonplace regardless of where you were, but each family had their own specialty dish.  My father, for instance, made both chili and fish chowder that had guests scrapping the bottom of the industrial sized pots for “just one more bowl.” An aunt would create a spaghetti and meatballs dish that included short ribs in the sauce.  An uncle-in-law was always greeted with cheers when he would bring in yet another platter of hash-bash (a potent combination of Corn Flakes, hash browns, a cream of “something” soup and mystery ingredients and spices).  Another aunt made (and continues to make) cheesecakes that are a personal highlight for me.  Regardless of where you ended up, you would be sure to leave with a full stomach thanks to a full spread of riches.  The trick, as I and many others learned through trial and numerous errors, was to eat just enough so that your stomach wasn’t overfull.  If you managed to make it to the next night, your plate would be judged by others in the food line, and good-natured ribbing would be expected if you were just looking for a “small bite to eat.”  We all knew what that meant, and while there was no hostility intended, comfortable familial trash talk was expected. 

These would not be “drop-in” events, either.  It wasn’t uncommon for the first guests to arrive before 4:00 PM to offer help and stragglers to leave after 9:00 PM.  Some hosts and some guests would push this from time to time depending on whether a hockey game was on, or the couch was just too comfortable.  From the time you set foot in the door to when you staggered out to your ride home, food and drink would be available to you, and an empty plate was seen to be sacrilegious.  

While there was no set schedule to these middle days of the Food Olympics, New Years Eve would tend to act as Closing Ceremonies.  My godparents would always graciously host this sendoff that sprawled across an old farmhouse.  There were a plethora of punches to sate your thirst, chicken, ham and rolls to fill your stomach and always a flat surface for you to lie down on in case your strength and stamina finally failed you.  Even as my cousins and I grew up, and we started to find our own people to celebrate with, we would stop in or make a point to call so that we would be with the clan in spirit.  This night was the true test of your mettle: could you make it from late afternoon to midnight, all the while eating food.  There were no medals handed out for this accomplishment, but you still received some praise and acknowledgment. 

So if New Years Eve was seen as the Closing Ceremonies, New Years Day could be seen as a victory lap.  Anyone who could claim to still have strength and awareness would be accepted to a final event, boasting a much more “modest” spread.  More ham, more rolls, Russian chicken, that ever-present hash-bash, and a frankly astounding number of sweets that had somehow survived the previous 7 days would be made available to us all. 

This is not to say that these Food Olympics revolved solely around foods.  In later years, the Men’s World Junior Hockey Championships would become a secondary centerpiece for these gatherings.  Usually confined to a basement den, seating was at a premium.  The trouble with this is that the moment you left a seat, some other body would immediately take your space.  You’d be at risk of missing a crucial part of the game, a comfortable space for food eating food or a perfect corner spot to in the middle of any number of conversations.  Here began a complex and ill-defined set of rules and favors that may benefit you one night or inconvenience you the next. 

Amongst the food are the memories. A cousin who set the speed on a treadmill too high and found themselves tumbling backwards and rolling into a wall.  A future in-law being inducted into the family amidst food, drinks and a hockey game.  The chorus of welcomes when someone you haven’t seen in a year walks into the room.  The passing around of a new grandchild, the surreptitious photos taken of family in unsuspecting moments, the catching up with cousins who have moved around and away.  The old joke of “a priest, a rabbi and a minister walk into a bar” can be replaced with “a teacher, an engineer and a health and safety officer cram together on a couch.” Whatever the mix of people, regardless of what was on your plate, there was a place for you during the festivities. 

COVID struck a blow to all of this.  With isolation and family bubbles in place, we weren’t able to gather like we once did.  That weeklong event had to be temporarily suspended to make way for the new regulations.  This wasn’t an easy change.  For younger members of the family, these were regular life events that had always occurred; the fact that they weren’t happening was a major change to their lives.  A cousin, now in university, was confused about what to do during the Christmas holiday. Imagine that: a high school student in the prime of their teenage years, at a loss of what to do during Christmas break. 

But as things changed and disrupted our lives in inconvenient ways, so did things change and bring some fun new wrinkles to an old tradition. Family members would return to the Island after having lived away for a number of years; this gave us a new house to invade and new meals to have. Cousins would marry, bringing their partners into our wonderful brand of chaos; this gave us new “victims” to initiate, indoctrinate and celebrate with. And a new generation of cousins would be brought into our families; a brand-new set of people to help continue traditions that have been going on for close to 40 years (barring some interruptions).  That number is ever growing.  Afterall, why let something like a global pandemic stop a Cape Breton Island Christmas tradition? We’re a hearty sort, and a tradition is done only when we decide that it has run its course. 

We’re not done yet. Our Clan is still going strong and growing in numbers each year. Each generation holds onto the traditions and maintains them, each in their own ways. Houses are still filled with people, food, conversation, laughter and memories.  The older generations looking on while the newer ones take up the torch and carry it forward.  Traditions are maintained by those who believe and remember, and the Food Olympics isn’t something that will be easily forgotten. 

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Strangers To Lovers (2) Masterlist

part one

And Action - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/calum, past michael/luke, michael/ashton E, 24k

Summary: Calum won’t lie about it. His Best Friend’s Boyfriend’s Ex-Boyfriend is super cute.

a new sensation (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum G, 16k

Summary: Calum needs a date for his sister's wedding, and Luke has never been to Scotland.

cake topics (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum E, 39k

Summary: Every morning that week, Calum goes back to the bakery, collects his lemon bar, and sets up on the terrace with his laptop.

And every morning that week, he sees the tall guy with off duty model vibes, right around the same time, always carrying his iced coffee, always wearing a leather jacket. Since he’s all the way across the street, Calum doesn’t really get a good look at him beyond basic shapes, so the off duty model thing is based entirely on his build and the fact that he looks sort of effortlessly put together with his leather jacket and casual sneakers.

That’s probably why Calum waves like a maniac and blurts, “Hey buddy!” when he comes face to face with the guy when he’s in line for his lemon bar the following Monday morning.

cream, no sugar (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum T, 15k

Summary: Calum loves his job.

Travelling so often is just a side effect of his job, and of the promotion he’d been given almost six months ago. One perk of all the back-and-forth he does in order to keep his fancy new title of Senior Project Manager of Copyright & Publishing is: Luke.

Luke is a flight attendant who works for United Airlines. When Calum’s lucky, he’s a flight attendant on the flight Calum is on, to wherever his next hotel room turned conference room is located. He’s been lucky more often than not lately, because Luke has been on every flight that Calum has been on for the past eight weeks.

food porn (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum E, 24k

Summary: Hi Cal,

Is Cal too forward? It feels it but I don’t know if that’s your full name or not so I’m going to stick to it.

I feel like I need to actually craft a proper thank you and I’m sorry if this is oddly personal, I’ve literally never written a thank you email to a blog before, is this how you’re meant to frame it?

I literally can’t cook for shit, I’ve never learnt how. My mum keeps saying that I’ll never amount to anything if I don’t learn (I have a job), so I’m trying but I’m still well, pretty shitty. I feel like I need to thank you for all your service so far in making me a more adjusted man, you have no idea what presence you’ve had in my life over the past six months. I’ve made so many of your recipes I’m basically your biggest fan.

go for miles (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum, michael/ashton G, 11k

Summary: When Calum had bought tickets to Glastonbury Festival with his ex nearly a full year ago, he never imagined he would have ended up going alone. The very messy breakup of a nearly-three-year relationship pushed any and all thoughts of future-plans to the back of his mind. He had almost entirely forgotten about the tickets tucked into an envelope, if he was being honest with himself. It wasn’t until an email dropped into his inbox with the subject: ‘We can’t wait to see you!’, reminding him that oh shit, they had bought tickets together and oh shit, that’s in like two weeks.

He spent the better part of the afternoon sitting on the living room floor trying to figure out what to do with his ticket. It was too late for him to transfer it to someone else, he couldn’t sell it because it had his name printed on it, and he didn’t really want to lose out on the £300 he spent on the damn thing by just not going. So, he decided then and there that he would go alone. Ex-boyfriend be damned, he’d have a great time even if he was by himself.

i let my guard down for a moment (wherever you go, i'll be going too) (ao3) - burstintocolor (anchormate) luke/calum, michael/ashton M, 14k

Summary: or; luke has a career crisis and gets a job at a bakery. calum is a beautiful baker. you know how it goes from there.

just dance (gonna be okay) (ao3) - kingscrossinseptember michael/luke T, 1k

Summary: Michael doesn’t have the fear of elevators falling that so many of his fellow college students have. He understands why the fear comes from; elevators are small and there is the possibility of getting trapped in one, even though it would most likely be for a very short amount of time. But Michael’s done his research and knows that it’s practically impossible for modern elevators to go into free-fall, and he’s pretty sure that considering how many people an elevator is designed to hold, it’d be very hard for anything he does while alone to have an effect. So, whenever he finds himself alone in an elevator while listening to music, he’s more than happy to use the opportunity to have a mini dance party.

low light, no risk (ao3) - bellawritess luke/ashton T, 2k

Summary: “Drinking to new friends and, uh, hot guys,” Luke says ineloquently, eyes skipping over Ashton’s face. His cheeks are so flushed, hair just starting to grow mussed up from the humidity of all the people. The image of Ashton running his fingers through it flashes in Ashton’s mind, and he tries to banish it as quickly as possible. That’s just — that’s unproductive, is what that is.

“Sure,” Ashton repeats, smiling. “New friends and hot guys.”

My tongue gets tied (ao3) - heart_is_gonna_flatline calum/ashton, michael/ofc N/R, 8k

Summary: Calum has always had a speech impediment that makes him stutter, and he hates it. When he meets Luke who immediately assumes he's mute, Calum just decides to go along with the lie.

But you can't lie forever, can you?

not like the others (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum T, 6k

Summary: “Luke?” Something about saying it feels nice, the press of Calum’s tongue against his teeth on the L, the way his lips purse slightly around the U, the satisfying sharpness of the K at the end. Refreshing.

Michael nods, lifting onto his toes to scan the crowd, then pointing towards the fence between Calum’s and Jack’s yards. “Over there. Can’t miss him. Huge, looks like Jack.”

Calum scans the cluster of people by the fence until he zeros in on the one unfamiliar face. He makes a strangled noise and murmurs “holy fuck” under his breath.

off track (ao3) - galacticsugar, kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum E, 113k

Summary: Calum’s bumped into exes before, of course, but not all his exes are Luke Hemmings, who’s the sort of person that Calum had gotten used to the idea of never seeing again. And Calum had long since reasoned that it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t see him in the flesh ever, because Luke Hemmings is an itch in the back of his brain that never quite goes away, that he’s never been able to scratch, the someone that features in his dreams when he lets his subconscious take the reins.

He’s Calum’s the one that got away.

see ya later (ao3) - onewayride luke/calum T, 5k

Summary: Calum and Luke meet at a laundromat with hopes to see each other again, and the universe doesn't disappoint them.

silver lining (ao3) - toddamyanderson luke/calum M, 15k

Summary: “Hey, man. You alright?”

Luke jumps at the deep voice sounding from behind him. He spins around to face it, one hand clutching his camera in case he’s about to get kicked out for being in the wrong section when he is, in fact, meant to be here, as a registered photographer.

But when Luke turns around, there’s just one guy there, lounging on a small stack of boxes with one leg hitched up for him to sling an arm over, exuding calm confidence.

He’s clearly a model.

SOS Hungry night (ao3) - heart_is_gonna_flatline luke/calum, michael/crystal M, 18k

Summary: Or, Calum and Duke meet Luke and his food truck one night, and Luke can't seem to leave Calum's life after that. Not that Calum complains.

trusting you (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/ashton, background michael/calum E, 38k

Summary: He clutches a sparkly acoustic guitar in one hand, baby blue painted nails biting into the strings as he waves at the crowd and settles onto his stool. “Hello,” he says, voice swaying from a deep register to a higher head voice with one single word, elongated through a crooked smile. “I’m Levi Halloway, and I’m here to play a few songs for you tonight,” he says, plucking a chord as he straightens his shoulders. His shirt strains over the length of his wingspan.

Ashton would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued already, drawn in after only a handful of words. He’s seen more random performers than he can count, mostly no name aspiring artists who just want someone to listen to them. Half the time they’re good enough to get a rousing applause at the end, while the other half of the time everyone has left the sitting area before they finish their set.

Other than Ashton of course. He always stays until the end.

voice of reason (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 5k

Summary: Luke’s definitely, absolutely, 100% sure he’s not addicted to the voice of the guy on his sleep podcast. 

when the party ends (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum E, 30k

Summary: Sadly, Calum is going to have to buy this bottle of wine. Is he torturing himself unnecessarily? Definitely. He can’t even really make himself feel pathetic about it, though. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing. Of why he misses Luke so much. Of why drinking this wine alone in his apartment is a bad idea. Even without Luke actually being present, Calum is using him.

a heaven, iowa songfic.

will we talk? (ao3) - strxngersagain michael/luke E, 4k

Summary: Michael tries not to make a habit out of having one night stands.

Sure, he’s had his share of a few no-strings-attached hookups in his otherwise relatively uneventful dating history. But he’s found over the years that it usually just tends to make him feel worse, waking up in the morning to an empty bed at worst, or an awkward conversation and a hasty exit at best. So, Michael has set his sights on not sleeping with anyone until he’s known them for at least 48 hours, at minimum.

So far, it’s gone pretty well.

Until he meets Luke, that is. 

You Know J'adore La Mer (ao3) - heart_is_gonna_flatline luke/calum N/R, 9k

Summary: Luke lived in France for the six first years of his life before moving to London. At seventeen, he moves back to France with his parents, leaving his country and the swing he loves so much. He meets his childhood best friends, and some things might have changed.