#also i remember when people really loved waffles back then

[hdra77]

Nyaworld designs part 5: gourmand!! + a comic????

originally this simple comic was supposed to be joke but then it slipped... now im not planning to actually make a full on comic series about this (since they'll be in an amv format) this AU has NO proper lore whatsoever and i just threw this in..

[sea-jello]

hong kong miku,,,

[cvrnelians]

emerald

Michael Berzatto x reader: It's the first Christmas since the death of your boyfriend, and you try your best to honor his memory.

angst // warnings: suicide, minors DNI.

There is a ring you once wore, not for any particular purpose. It was not an engagement ring, or a wedding ring. It was not a gift or a family heirloom of any kind. It held no meaning of any real significance, an impulse buy from a local flea market–for you, from you. The ring was relatively inexpensive, so much so you couldn’t even remember what you’d spent on it. It had been in your possession for a grand total of two years by the time you met Michael; an emerald oval with a silver band. By his life’s end, you had it for five.

If this thing had eyes, it would’ve seen it all. 

The start of your relationship. Holidays, birthdays. Late nights where you and Michael stayed up talking for hours. You could envision images of the ring as you ran your fingertips along his chest, his face, as he smiled and laughed and kissed your knuckles. Early mornings with your hands wrapped around a mug, eager to drink the large cup of coffee made especially for you. Afternoons at the restaurant, wiping salt and grease off your fingers as you polished off a basket of waffle fries. You could picture the ring as you talked (or rather, yelled) with your hands in the midst of an argument, of which there were many towards the end.

“Pretty,” he had said, the last time you saw him. He held your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over it. “You’ve had this thing for like, forever. I think of it when I think of you. Have I ever told you that?”

You shook your head, pushing his hair away from his face. “You look tired.”

He avoided the subject, as he so often did lately. 

“These things, these little diamonds or whatever—”

“Gemstones, you mean?” you chuckled. 

He rolled his eyes. “Gemstones. Sure. Those.”

“And you sound tired.”

“I’m not finished talking, you little brat.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes this time. “So sorry for being concerned about your wellbeing, Michael.”

“I’m fine. But these little guys, Sug told me they mean different things. She’s got a book about them.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I mean, I know they’re birthstones. But I don’t really care about that, I just kind of like what I like. I bought it randomly.”

“No no, I know that. But they’re apparently also like…symbols. Like, they all stand for something. And different people are drawn to them for different reasons.”

You smiled warmly at him as he came towards you, wrapping his arms around you as you leaned back against the countertop. 

“Did you know that?”

Every once in a while, Michael would learn some random fact and throw it at you. His day-to-day routine could be a bit of a grind, and even in spite of all the yelling and commotion, he would often get bored. He felt starved for knowledge and liked to learn new things, useful or not. “No, I did not know that.”

“I wonder what that one means.”

You shrugged. “Emerald? Not sure. We should ask Sug.”

You could vividly recall carefully studying it as you listened to Sugar’s voice sobbing and stuttering through your office phone. It was well worn by that point–or as Mikey said, “well loved.” The gemstone was marred with scuffs and scratches, the shape of the band slightly warped. You could only make out a few words through the screaming. The image of the dark green oval blurred as your eyes filled with tears, as your hands began to shake.

“It’s Mikey…he…oh my god. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

Ten months have gone by since then. They’ve managed to pass like both minutes and years at the same time. 

You carefully study the ring as you hold it between your pointer finger and your thumb, overlooking the river below the State Street Bridge. The tears pricking your eyes hurt far more than they typically would. It’s freezing, so cold you can see your breath. You don’t mind. You barely even notice. 

You’re used to it by now.

It’s Christmas. The first Christmas after. You haven’t left your house in days, not even to see your own family. Not until today. 

You were greeted with a package on your front porch the night before, a gift from Sugar. You haven’t seen her since the funeral back in February, but she still went out of her way to reach out to you. She would send you little gifts periodically, reminding you she was still there. You were shaking once again as you opened the box to find it: a book about all the different gemstones. A card was wedged between the pages. 

Happy holidays, my beautiful sister-in-law. Thought you might enjoy this. Please try to call me when you can. Miss you. Love you. 

Words and images and thoughts and memories are racing through your mind as you balance your elbows along the bridge’s railing.

You had eagerly flipped through the pages of the book the night before, searching for an answer to a question long forgotten.

Emerald—a conduit for peace.

Maybe that was why you were so drawn to it. Maybe some part of you knew you would need some peace going forward. Or maybe it was always meant for someone else entirely.

Rest in peace.

The expression sounded so generic and cliche to you before. But now, the saying was beginning to make sense. Especially for Michael. All you could hope for at this point was that he was resting peacefully.

There is a ring you once wore, not for any particular purpose. It was not an engagement ring, or a wedding ring. It was not a gift or a family heirloom of any kind. It holds a great deal of meaning and significance, a container for a pain you can never forget. An emerald oval with a silver band. 

A conduit for peace, something your late boyfriend needed.

Something he deeply deserved.

“Merry Christmas, Mikey.”

You clamp your eyes shut as you drop it into the water below.

-

“To live in the hearts of those we love is never to die.” 

[authoreetea]

10 days of you

pairing : rafe cameron x reader

summary : part 3 to losing you, final part. where rafe had 10 days til christmas, and in those ten days, he is determined to win you back.

note! i am so sorry this took so long, i've literally been so busy with uni stuff. hope u like!

p2 p1

The cool air engulfed the people of the outer banks, carrying the promise of holiday magic as figure eight was decorated in festive lights. I found myself caught in the undertow of emotion, remembering the ten days of Rafe trying to "win me back"

I can't help but bite back a smile, It made me feel all warm and I could feel the butterflies fluttering in my body. The first day, I awoke to a large bouquet of my favorite flowers with a note from Rafe.

it read; "Good morning, doll. I have a surprise in the living room.

love, Rafe."

I felt my cheeks warming up, I looked at my phone to see what time it was, and it was exactly time for breakfast. Walking down, I could already smell the fresh coffee and some sweet waffles.

"Hi darling, you sleep well?" Rafe asked, greeting me as I walked down the stairs.

I smiled at him, "Yes, I did. Thank you for the flowers by the way, you remembered my favorites. " in turn, he smirked at me and bent down to my height.

"Of course I did, I could never forget anything about you." Rafe said, in a semi raspy and quiet tone that makes me wanna jump him

"Anyways, I made you some coffee and waffles. Eat up! I have a lot prepared for today." He says, leading me to the dining table.

There were two plates of fluffy waffles with bacon and syrup on the side with a cup of coffee in the same christmas mugs I bought years before.

"This looks so good!" I say, my eyes wide with excitement. "You cooked these?" I asked, looking at him.

Rafe chuckles and nods, before pulling out a chair for you. mhm, gentleman.

I say a soft thank you and he sits in front of me. I dig in and instantly am greeted with pleasure. "So, what're we doing today?" I say, my mouth still half-full with some waffles.

He grins at me, "You're adorable. You'll see when we go to the living room."

After breakfast, Rafe guided me to the living room all while covering my eyes. "I really hope you like this."

He uncovers my eyes and I am met with our christmas ornaments and decorations that we used the last christmas we celebrated together.

"Are these-?" I start, but Rafe already answered.

"Yup. The same exact ones. I didn't decorate again after that, it felt wrong, without you." He said, and I almost teared up.

"Oh, Rafe." I say, in a soft voice. He smiles, redirecting the conversation.

"I also bought those ugly christmas sweaters you're obsessed with, look! we can match." Rafe says, showing the neatly folded ugly sweaters on the couch. I grinned, he knew me too well.

"These are so adorable, I love it!" I say, rushing to the couch to immediately wear the one intended for me as Rafe chuckles at my eagerness and wears his as well.

"I'm glad you like it." He says, before walking closer to me. "Will you, y/n, accept my invitation to decorate this house, that even Saint Nicholas himself would be jealous?" Rafe says playfully, holding his hand out for me to accept his invitation.

I accepted his hand as I chuckled like a little kid on Christmas Eve.

Almost hours later, We decorated the whole living and dining area with festive and warm decorations. "It's beautiful!" I say, looking at Rafe with a big smile.

"Just like you." He says, his eyes twinkling from the christmas lights as he looked at me so fondly. My cheeks started warming up, my heart beating faster.

Is it bad to admit I already feel like I'm falling in love with him all over again, on day one? I won't tell him that though, he needs to work for it.

Day Five

Days have passed and everyday I woke up with a handwritten note on the bedside table and a bouquet of flowers. I was curious as to what he had planned this time.

I read the note, it said ; "Hey beautiful, I went out for a while. Work stuff. Meet me at the front door by 11? Wear something casual, I'll see you.

love, Rafe."

It was already 8 am, I stood up and made my bed and had some breakfast. After doing my routine, I wore a simple sundress that I know Rafe loves, and a white knit cardigan cause it gets really chilly during December.

By the time I finished, it was almost 11 which was when Rafe arrived.

He walked in by the doorway, before he saw me, and his eyes were wide in admiration and his mouth slightly parted. "Hi, you look lovely." Rafe said, in a sigh as if he just got his breath taken away.

I smiled at him. "Thank you, you look nice." I say, taking note of his white button dow shirt and navy blue pants.

Grinning, Rafe opened the door "You ready?" He asks. I nod, walking out as he trails behind me. He opens the door to his Bentley and we sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"So, where are we going?" I ask. Rafe looks at me for a brief second, and smiles. "You remember, one of our first dates when we were sixteen, we had a really spontaneous picnic under a lighthouse by tannyhil that we only had candies and chips as our food?" He says, the memory clear as day as he talked about it.

I gasped and grinned, turning to him. "Oh my gosh, yes! I remember, we kept promising we'd come back next time more prepared."

He chuckles. "Yup, and I'll finally fulfill my promise." Rafe says, looking at me briefly again. He had his hand on the wheel as he drove, and his sunglasses hanging by the pocket of his shirt.

I took a minute to admire him, completely forgetting we were having a conversation. He smirks, looking at me again before looking bsck at the road.

"You alright?" He asks, a faint tone of teasing evident in his voice. I playfully roll my eyes.

Few minutes later we've finally arrived at the place. There was a red and white picnic blanket set on the floor, with pillows and fairy lights around, and Rafe got the basket filled with food from his car.

"This is so adorable, Rafe." I say in awe. He smiles at me and sets the food down on the picnic blanket.

"I got you all your favorite food. and for old times sake, I got the same gummy candies we had years ago." Rafe said, smiling as he took out the bag of candy and shook it.

I said down on the blanket, smiling as I looked at the food he got. He did have everything I liked, from fruits to my favorite pastries and meals.

I was in awe, he really still remembered everything I liked.

"Come, let's eat!" He says, handing me some chocolate covered strawberries. I take it from him and almost sigh at how absolutely delicious it was.

I looked around, this place still looked and feels exactly the same as it used to. I feel myself start to tear up, the nostalgia getting to me. Rafe notices and stopped what he was doing.

He looked at me with concern as he saw tears pooling in my eyes. "Darling, what's wrong? did I mess it up? We could do something els-"

"No, Rafe. It's perfect. I just feel nostalgic, It still feels exactly the same way it did when we were sixteen, I miss it." I say, my nose sniffling and turning red.

He looked at me with adoration in his eyes as he cupped my cheek, making me look up at his soft blue eyes.

"It's alright, doll. It's normal to miss things sometimes." He says, pausing to wipe a stray tear that fell with his thumb. " Do you remember? That night, we carved out initials on the bottom of this very lighthouse. " He said, pointing at the lighthouse, as he tried to distract me from my tears.

I smiled through my teary eyes and stuffy nose, and nodded. "Yeah, I wonder if it's still there?" I said, wiping of my eyes.

Rafe grins, standing up before pulling you along with him. "It is, look." He says, pointing at the wooden exterior of the lighthouse by the very bottom and it read his initials with a heart between yours.

"Awe, I can't believe it's still here, all these years." I say in shock, bringing my hands to touch the engraved initials.

Rafe smiles and says, "Just like I'll be. I'll be here, with you in all the years to come."

Days have passed and it was finally Christmas Eve. The previous days have been perfect, Rafe surprised me to a candle-lit dinner by the beach, a beautiful day on his boat, and more.

I felt myself falling deeper and deeper. This was the Rafe I originally fell in love with, and he was finally back.

Christmas Eve dawned with thick anticipation. Rafe, adorned with determination, stood by the tree we decorated on the first day, a single rose in hand.

"It's Christmas Eve, doll. Wanna open your gifts?" He says, greeting me with a hug.

I hug him back, inhaling his warm and comforting scent. "Yes! I got you some things too. Let's open together"

Laughter and joy was in the air, it felt lively. Rafe got me four gifts, a photo album with pictures from our teenage years, a beautiful dress, some designing equipment, and a really cute mug with those 3d tulips on the outside.

I was really grateful, we shared stories over hot cocoa as he opened all the gifts I got him. We celebrated the night with some cheesy hallmark Christmas movies and delicious christmas snacks.

Rafe looked incredibly nervous though, halfway through one of the movies. I don't know why, I assumed it was that he drank one to many hot cocoas.

He cleared his throat, taking me away from my thoughts. He gave me a sheepish smile.

"I actually... um" He started, pausing again, "I have another gift for you." He said, his voice quiet and shy, not the usual way that he is.

My eyes widen, "Really? You already gave so much, Rafe!"

He smiles at me, standing up to grab it from one of his drawers.

"I think this will top all my other gifts." He said, sitting back down. I looked at his hand and saw a ring box. I felt my heart skip a beat and my jaw dropping to the floor.

He looks at me with sincerity in his eyes, opening the box, revealing a beautiful ring that's exactly how I like it.

"Look, many years ago... I was really scared. I didn't have the best example of a good marriage growing up, and I didn't want to give that to you in fear that it'd be too hard." He says.

l feel myself tearing up again, damn christmas season always makes me emotional.

"I should've done this years ago, y/n. I shouldn't have let you go, I regretted it day after day. Now that I have the chance, I don't wanna wait for years anymore. What do you say? Have I won you over, darling?" Rafe says, he himself tearing up.

"Will you marry me, for real, this time?" He asks, his body inching closer and closer towards me. The room felt incredibly warm and my heart was beating crazily, Rafe was breathing fast and I could feel the anticipation in the air.

Tears finally fell down my eyes in waterfalls, and I looked like a blubbering mess. I threw my arms over his neck, attacking him in a hug.

"Oh, Rafe. This was all I ever wanted, Yes I will marry you!" I say, pulling apart to look at his face. He was also tearing up, and he had a smile on his face that looked like mine.

"I am so glad you said yes, darling. You won't regret this, I swear on my life. I love you." He says, wearing the ring on my ring finger.

"I love you too, Rafe." I said, crying tears of joy before his lips met with mine.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Prerequisite

Masterlist

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, power imbalance, blackmail, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You attempt to move on from your time with Professor Hansen, but can't seem to shake the past.. (plus sized reader)

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, some Lloyd Hansen

A note on reader characters:

For clarity,  each reader will have a defined nickname when appearing in any installment not their own. This is Flora, previously featured in Below Average. This fic also features characters from various installments.

Note: Finally got this on paper.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You cross your arms as you narrow your eyes at the front of the lecture hall. It's your last choice in elective but the only one you could get to pad out your schedule. Law. Hardly riveting stuff.

What's more intriguing is the professor. No, no, you haven't acquired a taste for them, if anything Hansen taught you to be wary of them. The very lesson that has you glaring down at Professor Barber, waiting for his first slip.

You're not clever by any means, you're just the only one looking for the signs. The same ones you saw in Tweed at your first meeting, those that you catch in yourself, and the other girls who won't say the truth aloud. 

Brownie, that's the one. You see the way he looks at her and you note how she stays after class, every week. Only three weeks so far but a pattern is a pattern.

You twist your pen, the nib poking out, then do it again, retracting it. The clicking noise forms a tempo at your listless fidgeting. You have a study date tonight with the girls, what’s one more? You’re forming a habit of taking on lost souls, yourself just another wisp floating in the void.

You scribble down the date for your next quiz, your mind hardly processing the words as you guide the pen. You’re trying to plot your approach. You think you have an idea.

As Professor Barber dismisses class, you slide your notebook into your bag and hike it up onto your shoulder. At the edge of the row, as usual, you quickly descend as Brownie stays in her seat, waiting and watching her feet. You catch the small glances aimed in her direction from the man behind the podium.

You take out your phone and quickly text Cookie; ‘you got room for one more?’

You don’t wait for an answer. You don’t care. You’ve made up your mind, it’s a warning, not a question.

“Hey,” you come around the front row. The girl doesn’t seem to hear you. Or she’s ignoring you, “um, Brownie?”

She looks up, startled. She sends a look towards Barber but you ignore him. You cross your arms and sway, your skirt stirring around your legs.

“Remember me?” You ask, “you lent me your pen?”

“Oh, uh, I remember,” she squeaks, her voice thin and raw, as if she never uses it, “hi.”

“Um, so,” you try to sound casual, “I’m not really a law student. English,” you touch your chest and smile, “and I think I could use a study buddy, if you’re interested?”

“Er, oh?” Her brows draw together, “I don’t know…” she scratches her neck, another peek at the professor, “I–”

“Do you have plans? Or maybe you already have someone to study with,” you look away and frown, “sorry, I just figured I’d ask. I need someone to help me make sense of all this. I’m totally lost.”

There’s a subtle rumble, a noise you likely wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know to listen for it. You don’t even glance back at Barber as you hear him packing up. You sit in the chair next to Brownie and smile.

“I just figured you’re like, the smartest person in the class, and I need this grade to bring my average up. Please?”

She chews her lip and plays with the high collar of her turtleneck. She hides beneath her lashes, shrugging before she manages a tiny nod. Her fingers flutter and she shivers nervously.

“I can help,” she presses her fingers to the ribbed fabric of her shirt, “sure, I…”

“Me and my friends are meeting tonight, we’re getting pizza,” you chirp, “wanna tag along?”

“Friends?” She bats her eyes at you frightfully.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re all super friendly and they’ll love you.”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not very…” she speaks so quietly you have to lean in to hear her.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say much,” you assure her, “Cookie always bakes way too many brownies. You could help us finish them, huh?”

She looks terrified. Her mouth scrunches and shifts back and forth as she measures her options. You know exactly what she’s thinking. That man will be disappointed. Well, let him be. Unless he wants to step forward and admit that he’s fucking a goddamn student.

“Hm, okay, but… just for a little. I can’t stay very long.”

“Just until I figure out what actus reus means, alright?” You stand and send a sharp look towards the professor. He quickly dips his chin down in feigned concentration as he looks over his notes. Not today, fucker.

“Okay,” she gets up and lifts a crochet bag, her hand shaking as she tucks away her laptop in the slouchy purse, “um, I’m sorry, but… I forgot your name.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you wait for her to pass you before walking at her side towards the door. She’s still hesitant and reluctant as she looks over her shoulder, “Flora.”

💮

“This is Brownie,” you introduce the mousy addition to the girls as she tries to fade into the blue wall, “she’s in my law class.”

She doesn’t move. She just looks up with round eyes as the others cheerily call out their welcome, already clustered around the table amid coffee cups, laptops, and a few baked goods. The scent of cinnamon mingles with the stale caffeine.

“Welcome, Brownie,” Muse gives both of you a start as she appears at the girl’s other shoulder, “I’m Muse! Oh, you have wise eyes.” She flutters around the girl, a boa around her shoulders, “you would look wonderful in jade. Yes, it would highlight your undertones.”

Brownie frowns and mutters, but you can’t tell if it's a thank you or just a whimper.

“She says I’m a sapphire type,” you remark as you wave her away from the door, “you can toss your coat with ours,” you motion to the bench bench piled with outerwear, “then I’ll introduce you to the rest… they’re not as bouncy as Muse.”

Brownie gives up her dark gray coat and steps out of her plain boots. She dresses in a very simple way. Turtle necks, corduroys, nothing with much shape or structure. Her style can be best described as part of the wall.

“So,” you walk just ahead of her. She stays behind you as if trying to hide, “Tweed, Foxy, Sunny,” you point out the three girls at the table, “you met Muse,” you look at the artsy wraith fluttering around the counter, “and Cookie, our host.” 

The woman in question puts down a plate of sugar cookies, “hi, nice to meet you! I’ll find an extra chair.”

Brownie doesn’t say a word. You realise it might be a bit overwhelming. She reminds you of Tweed in that way. You point her to a chair and assure her you’ll take whatever Cookie comes up with. She sits, hugging her bag in her lap as she stares at the table.

Foxy gets up as you head for the counter, you pause and look back at Brownie, “you want some tea? Something to drink?”

She chews her lip before she answers, “water, please, if that’s okay.”

You nod and go to the cupboard. Foxy comes up next to you and leans on the counter as you shift to pull out the water jug from the fridge. You come back to her as she keeps her voice low.

“What’s up with that one?”

“Law professor, I think,” you mutter, “could barely get her here.”

“Fuck, another one, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, you know, shitty men everywhere,” you fill the glass, “I brought her here to try to forget all that. Like the rest of us.”

“Sure thing,” she taps the countertop with her nails and pushes off.

You put the jug back and take the water over to Brownie as Cookie emerges with a small white stool. You accept it, the seat lower than the rest so that you feel like a kid at the table. You pull out your laptop and open it up. Your phone slides out with it and you catch it as notifications flash on the screen.

You tap your thumb to expand the preview; Insta, emails, and a text that neither surprises or interests you. Professor Dillhole’s message is swiped away without reading a single word. You got your grade and now you’re done with him. He doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“So, Brownie, you’re in law? Are you going to be a lawyer?” Foxy asks.

Brownie shrugs and nods. You wonder for a moment how she’ll manage a courtroom when she can barely give a vocal answer. Well, she has lots of time to figure that out.

“That’s really cool,” you say, “you know, I don’t have the mind for all that. I can’t really sort out one act from the rest. I’m more into bigger narratives than the tiny details.”

She looks at you, still hugging her bag. She’s ready to leave at any moment.

“Why don’t you stay a while?” You poke her bag, “how about we compare notes? I’m sure I missed all the important stuff. This tort gibberish is doing my head in.”

She puts her chin down and slowly lifts the flap of her bag. She slides out her laptop and gently lowers the bag between her feet. She opens the lid, almost reluctant, and her desktop comes to life. You see the email in the corner right before the notif flicks away. A.Barber… Mmm.

For a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. You hope your impromptu invitation doesn’t cost her anything. That he doesn’t hold it against her. You should’ve thought of that sooner.

“Let me find…” she trails off, her finger running over the trackpad.

You wait patiently. No, you don’t feel bad. She deserves this. Like the rest of you, she needs a place to get away. Just a single space where she doesn’t have to be crushed under his thumb.

💮

You sit outside of Dean Drysdale’s office. His secretary types away at her keyboard and you twirl your phone in your grip. It’s mostly a paperweight these days as you ignore almost every message that comes in. Blocking didn’t work on that jag off.

You jiggle your foot anxiously. This meeting is important. You really need this scholarship and through the grace of your hard work, and the regrettable cooperation of a particular professor, you’ve met all the requirements. The last piece, an interview with the dean.

The clock ticks, drawing your attention in the stagnant office. It’s five after. The dean is running late. That doesn’t really matter, he can do whatever he wants. But you’re early and that can only help in his consideration.

You hear muffled voices near the other side of the door. Shadows darken the frosted glass emblazoned with the dean’s name and credentials. You sit up straight but try not to look too eager. The door opens and your heart falls into your ass. Fuck, not this guy.

“Friday,” Dean Drysdale claps Lloyd’s back as they emerge from the office.

“Can’t wait,” Lloyd returns but his eyes are on you, “ah, sorry,” he says to you, “didn’t mean to keep him so late.”

“No problem, professor,” you stand and grip the strap of your bag, masking your disgust with a smile, “Dean Drysdale,” you greet the other man, “nice to meet you. I’m Flora.”

“The one and only,” he doesn’t offer his hand, “looks like you’re running behind so better get started.” He points you into his office, “later, Hansen.”

He tosses the last remark over his shoulder as he turns to follow you through the door. You enter and hover across from his desk. You hate to be presumptuous. He shuts the door with a click.

“Sit,” he orders tersely as he rounds the desk and falls heavy into the leather chair.

You lower yourself. Your nerves are wily, especially after seeing Professor Hansen. You had no idea he was close with the dean.

“Hansen speaks highly of you,” he begins, “as do the rest of your professors.”

“Oh, I, that’s great.”

“So, I have thirty candidates. Why should I choose you?” He leans back, elbow on the armrest, posture nonchalant as he swivels.

“Um, well, I work hard. I keep my average up where it needs to be. I have gotten involved in quite a few extracurriculars, I helped with the library bakesale and–”

“Boring. Got it. That’s all in your application,” he dismisses, “just like all the other ones. Bunch of filler. But why you?”

You’re speechless. You prepared for this but you feel as if you fell into this from thin air. You don’t know what he wants to hear.

“How many parties have you been to?” He asks suddenly.

“What?” You can’t help your surprise.

“Come on. You’re a young coed. I know how it is. So, let’s narrow it down. Fall term, how many?”

You squint and look at the wall, thinking. You’re not much of a partier. You twiddle your fingers and count in your head.

“Four, maybe,” you push your shoulders up. “I don’t really… I mostly just spend my spare time with my friends–”

“Are they hot?” He chuckles and sits up, your mouth falling open. “Relax, I hate these things. So uptight,” he rolls his shoulders as he wheels closer to the desk and plants his elbows, “at least you're honest. The last six freshmen that sat there insisted on a big O. Think they would see the plaque and realise I’m not stupid.”

“Well, I… yeah,” you chew on the tip of your tongue. You really don’t know how to proceed. “I brought a portfolio of my essays–”

“No time for that,” he waves his hand at you, “think I got the picture.”

“Oh,” you frown.

He stares at you, poking his cheek with his tongue as his brows draw together. He hums and sits back, once more swiveling back and forth. He tilts his head and clucks.

“You’ll hear from my secretary,” he declares at last.

“That’s it?” You gulp.

“Yeah, whatever, I got about five more of these today and I need a fucking coffee,” he lifts his feet onto his desk. “Be a doll and send in Sienna when you leave.”

“Um, okay,” you stand slowly, “thanks for your time.”

He doesn’t respond as he takes out his phone. You hide your unease and leave. As you emerge you see the name card on the secretary’s desk. Sienna.

“Er, he told me to send you in,” you approach.

She looks up at you and snaps her gum, “great.”

She gets up as she rolls her eyes and you swiftly march past the desk. You don’t understand what just happened. Did you fuck it up? What did Hansen say? Oh my fucking good, you swear if he–

Your thoughts race ahead of your feet as they carry you without intention. You find yourself in the stairwell, stunned and confused. You turn down the first flight only to dodge out of the way of a figure coming up. You yipe as you find yourself shoved into the corner, Lloyd’s arms outstretched to pen you in.

His hands brace the painted brick as he smirks down at you, “hey, sweet cheeks, long time, no suck.”

You curl your lip at him and snarl, “get away from me.”

You shove on his chest and he retracts his hands, grabbing your wrists. You struggle with him but he easily pushes your hands up, pinning them to the wall. He leers as looms in front of you, his eyes scanning down your body.

“Damn, I forgot how good you look in those skirts. Panties or nah?”

“Fuck off–”

“Always looked better around your waist–”

“I said get the fuck off of me. I’ll scream–”

“I’d love to hear it,” he snickers, “what happened to us, flower? We were doing great. Living life, fucking hard.”

“You’re an animal–”

“We had a good thing, the whole professor-with-benefits gig worked for us, didn’t it? It sure as hell loosened you up. Look at you, all wound tight–”

You snap your teeth at him and he recoils, barely saving his nose from the chomp. He cackles and keeps you trapped, squeezing your wrists tighter. His laughter rolls out to a growl.

“You know, if you get that scholarship, they need two professor’s to sign off on it… but you know, I don’t just put my name on anything–”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I fucking am when I got blue balls, honey,” he scoffs, “just touch em. A little bit.”

You grit your teeth and throw your knee up. You yank your hands free and shoulder past Lloyd as he bends and grips his crotch. He chokes on his breath as he leans against the wall. You bluster away as quickly as you can.

“Not like that,” he gurgles as you charge down the stairs, dizzy as you turn down the next flight. 

So much for that scholarship.

💮

You stare at the C circled in red on your last quiz. Law isn’t your forte, that’s clear. Your GPA and hopes for that scholarship are dwindling in that simple little letter. You look up at the front of the lecture hall as Professor Barber reclaims the podium, preparing to take up the answers as he does every other week.

You sit closer than before. You’re always sure to take the seat next to Brownie and she has yet to tell you to stop. Something about her though suggests that she won’t ever do that. No has been erased from her vocabulary.

You don’t miss the Professor’s eyes as they flit up to your study buddy but quickly meet your own. He darts them away, caught. You wonder, however, if your middling grade has something to do with that. Oh well, you won’t regret doing the right thing.

As you open your laptop, an email pops up in the corner. ‘On Behalf of Dean R. Drysdale’. You click on it before you can stop yourself. You’re holding your breath. You read it slowly.

‘Schedule a follow up for the dean’s decision’.

What? That’s not an answer. Fuck. Why can’t they just put it right there? Yes or no. You have to stop yourself from slamming your laptop shut. You grab your quiz and rest it over your keyboard. You look over at Brownie, she stares at the paper in her hand. She got an A, as always.

“Good job,” you whisper.

“Mmm, yeah,” she returns as she drops the quiz onto her folding desk. “He’s a good teacher…”

“Sure,” you accept dryly.

She glances at you but says nothing. You hate to be sharp with her but it’s pretty obvious what’s going on. You’re just smart enough to know to be cautious. You can only be there for her when she needs you. It would be too risky to do anything else. And not fair to Brownie, that man could destroy her career. You’ve been her, you just hope she finds her way out.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Barber calls out, quieting the class, “it seems we need a lot of review on case law.”

💮

The hour is unexpected but you don’t think much of it. A dean is busier than most and you can’t help but imagine that Drysdale is even less elated to be meeting at such an off-time. Seven in the evening on a Friday is prime time, even for those outside the coed population.

You show up to an empty office. Sienna is gone, the place desolate. The vibe is off. Something about it reminds you of another meeting. No, this isn’t Hansen. Still, you’re on edge, vigilant as you approach the dean’s door, an amber glow through the frosted glass.

You knock and cross one arm over your chest, clutching your upper arm. You sway as you wait. Deja vu paralyses you on the spot. It can’t be. It can’t happen twice. This is about the scholarship.

The door opens and Drysdale steps back as he gives a flippant greeting, “come in.”

He has a glass in hand, a dark brown liquid in marbled crystal. He sips as the door falls open. You step inside and look around the office, the framed degree behind his chair and the several photographs placed around them; a previous dean with his imperious features, and a large house with a rustic landscape crowded around it. You hover at the threshold.

“Close the door,” he sits heavily, “these old buildings are drafty as–” he stops himself and smirks. 

He drains the last of his drink, liquor by your measure, and puts it on the marble coaster. You shut the door and sit, just like last time. You can’t help but be slightly irked to think he brought you all the way here to issue you a rejection.

“So, top three,” he points a finger gun at you as he slumps in the same lackadaisical way, “Flora… you’re a star. Shining reviews. Can’t say my professors ever said anything nice about me but you… you even got Hansen singing your praises.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“I’ve known him a while. We were in the same frat, you know? He was a senior when I was a freshman, hazed me real good but look how things turned out,” he leans an elbow on the armrest and cradles his chin. He watches you. “All these years and I never heard him say anything nice about a fucking student.”

You’re put off by the obscenity. Further, upended by his history with Lloyd. What does that have to do with anything?

“You know, he’s all about self-discipline but you get a few scotches down his gullet and he’s like an open book. Also…” he raises a finger, “leaves his phone unlocked.”

You try not to let that suspicion turn to panic. He can’t know. Even if he did, it’s not your fault. He should be talking with Hansen, not you. He’s the one abusing his position.

“You let him fuck you in his car,” he sits up and laughs, his hand on his stomach, “looking at you, I never would’ve guessed.”

“What? How–”

“I mean, he was hitting it from quite the angle so I don’t blame you for not noticing the phone in his front pocket…”

“No.”

“Yes,” he cackles. “Listen, sweetie, it’s not the first time it’s happened. Some girls just don’t have anything else to offer, so who am I to be mad if they use what they got.”

“I’m not– I’m not like that. He made me–”

“Oh, I’m sure the promise of an A plus helped,” he scoffs as he lets his hand drift down his stomach, “so what can a scholarship get me?”

He gropes himself through his russet coloured pants. Your throat constricts as you clutch your purse tight in your lap. You’re rigid, alight in horror and shame. Of course Lloyd didn’t walk away without something.

“I’ve waited twenty years for this,” he plants his feet.

“No, I’m not– I’m not doing this again.”

You stand and Drysdale rips his hand away from his crotch, snapping his fingers, “with that video, I could take you to the review board and have you kicked out. Not only that, all your credits would be invalidated.”

You swallow and wince. No, this can’t be happening. Again. You’re stronger than this. You’re worth more than these men’s dicks.

“So, sweetie pie,” he reaches forward and takes his phone off his desk, “we’re gonna make a nice little video for Hansen and show him how it’s really done.”

You shudder and hug yourself, “I…” your throat is dry, your heart hollow. What other choice do you have? You’ll lose everything. “I’ll do it, but no video. Please.”

“My rules. I am the dean and you are… the slutty coed.” He tuts, “mmm, classic Pornhub fodder.” He taps the screen of his phone, “let’s go. Get your clothes off.”

He aims the lens at you. You look at the floor. You can’t move.

“Please, turn it off.”

“Get your fucking clothes off,” he repeats, “I want to remind that fuckface what he’s missing out on.”

You dig your nails into the back of your arms then let go. You keep your head down as you lift the strap of your purse over your head and throw it in the chair behind you. You unzip your coat and shrug it off. The room rings in your ear and blurs in your vision. Your breaths are shallow and painful. Your skin is buzzing.

Your coat falls and you pull down the straps of the denim dress you wear over a flowered blouse. You shimmy it past your waist and peek up for just a minute. Drysdale bites his thumb as he records you.

You quickly tear away your gaze and continue. You unbutton the blouse and turn as you fight to free your wrists from the cuffs. Goosebumps speckle over your skin. You close your eyes and ball your hands before pushing your fingers wide. You touch the top of your stockings.

“You can leave those on, cheeks.”

You gulp and retract your hands. You pause and turn back to face the desk.

“Tits out, ass out, go on.”

No wonder he’s tight with Lloyd. Birds of a feather. You reach back to undo your bra and sling it onto the chair. You hook your thumbs in your panties and step out of them.

“I always liked an extra helping,” Drysdale taunts, “her cups overfloweth… is that Shakespeare?”

You don’t answer. You fight the urge to hide behind your arms. You raise your head. You have a morsel of dignity left in you.

“Come here,” he demands, “I wanna fuck those tits.”

You cringe but obey. If Lloyd taught you anything it was to just get it over with. You round the desk as he opens his fly. He pulls himself out above the zipper, playing with himself, rolling his thumb over his tip as he growls.

“Knees, baby, I’m sure you know the drill,” he snickers. You get down as he wiggles his dick in your direction, “push those things together.” You grab your chest and smush it together. He taps your tits with his tip and laughs, enjoying his mocking.

He guides himself down under your tits and slides between. He cups a hand around yours as he refocuses the phone on you. He rocks the chair back, moving his pelvis as he slowly starts to thrust. He groans at the friction. You clench your jaw tight, dreaming of biting off the end of his overinflated worm.

His breath hitches as he fucks faster, the bottom of his wolly sweater rolling up his muscles stomach. You could just punch him right there. You could grab him by his balls and twist. No, that would only assure you of your scholarly doom.

“Look at me,” he demands.

You snap your eyes open as he shoves the phone in your face. You shy away but he keeps fucking, turning the lens down towards your tits. He gives a breathy laugh and it trickles into a moan. Weak and pathetic.

“Shit, yeah, that’s good,” he groans, “give it a kiss, baby.”

You grit back your disgust. You bend your neck and kiss his tip as it pokes through.

“With tongue.”

You force your tongue out as his tip pops up again and you swirl around it, planting a sloppy kiss on the salty flesh. He twitches and hisses. He pulls his hand away from yours and grips the chair.

“That’s good, get up,” he snarls, “turn around.”

You suck in a chestful of air and do as he says. You get to your feet and turn away. He grabs your hips and rolls closer. 

“Bend over.”

You bend and rest your elbows on the edge of the desk. He angles you down into his lap, your body stretched between the two. He rubs his dick against your ass, once more tapping. He kneads the flesh. You shake your head as he tilts you further down.

He prods at your cunt and you can’t help but clench. He pushes against your entrance, tight and burning as he grunts, bulling his way past the resistance with a slap against your thigh. He latches onto your hip and pulls you down another inch.

“It’s all you. You just gotta fuck that scholarship outta me.”

You bite your lip and force yourself to take him. You hip down until you reach your limit but before you can pull back up, he grabs on and holds you in place.

“More.”

You sink your teeth in deeper, urging yourself lower until it’s unbearable. You take him in fully and let out a shaky breath through your nose. You raise your ass as he lets you go. He lets out a raspy noise and you repeat the motion. You keep your motion mechanical and slow, trying to adjust.

“Faster. I wanna see you jiggle.”

You roll your eyes and claw at your arm, arms crossed over the desk as you rock your weight over him. The flesh claps loudly as his chair squeaks with each descent. He groans and gulps, hand wandering over your flesh, along your thighs, across your ass, up your back.

“Fuck, look at her go,” he snarks, “you work that dick. Just like that.”

You close your eyes and let the scowl mar your features. You speed up. He’s almost there. You can feel the tension, you can hear it in his voice.

“Ah,” he pinches you meanly, “stop!”

You try to keep going but he pushes you off of him. He growls and the chair jars as he sits up. You puff and peek around your shoulder at him.

“I’m cumming in your fucking mouth,” he cradles his balls, half-keeled over. “Open the fuck up before I blow–”

You get back to your knees and glare at him. You won’t falter. You have nothing over these men but that. You lean your head back and open your mouth. He lets himself go and holds the camera over you.

“Well, not gonna finish itself.”

You grab him, roughly, and he grunts. A warning. You ease up and stroke him, placing your mouth by his tip. 

“Look into the camera, cheeks.”

You glare at the camera, you hope it can catch the sheer loathing radiating from you. You stroke him, squeezing harder and harder until he spasms and mewls. He spurts all over, missing your mouth and streaking up the bridge of your noises and across your brow, a few strings over your cheek. 

He gasps and clings to the chair as if he might slip out of it, the camera drooping with his arm. You let him go and wipe your slimy hand. You stand and snatch a tissue from the box on his desk and wipe the mess from your face. His heavy breaths fill the silence.

“Can I go?” You ask flatly.

“I got nothing else for you,” he spits out.

You refuse to look at him as you dress. He chuckles. You fight not to turn around and throw every single thing on his desk at him. You hate him. You hate Lloyd. But more, you hate yourself.

“Congratulations,” he says as you pick up your purse, “did I mention, paperwork went through yesterday.”

You whip around and stare at him. You quake with anger, eyes hot with unspent tears.

“Hey, even I got deadlines. Had to make the call last week.”

You take a step back. What the fuck? You stumble away, ready to scream, ready to strangle this man. For now, you’ll settle for never having to see him again.

[aclowntiny]

🦉 Seventeen as Hogwarts Students 🏰

This picture filled me with so much serotonin 🥹 y’all can refer to these headcanons as the basis for all the Hogwarts AU fics I’m going to be writing 😌👀 get ready I can’t believe I held out this long 😂

S.Coups

☆ When the sorting hat was placed on his head, it paused in thought for a moment as it decided between Slytherin and Gryffindor. In the end, though… “Must be Gryffindor!” His caring heart won out the ambitious houses’ battle! At least, that’s what the hat said, and Seungcheol is determined to prove it right!

☆ Seungcheol is a Half-Blood, but both of his parents are wizards, so he grows up pretty chill on all the purity stuff but not knowing much about how people with no powers live. It’s definitely a curiosity for him, though.

☆ His favorite subjects are Defense Against the Dark Arts because he likes the idea of being able to protect others from harm and Charms because he likes small, quick, useful spells.

☆ He signs up for Ancient Runes because it sounds cool then highkey regrets it. It just kind of goes over his head.

☆ Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team right here 😌 Athletic and a great leader, Seungcheol is honored to receive this role even though it’s so obviously well-suited.

☆ Intimidating AND adorable. Seungcheol’s Patronus can do it all! His guardian takes the form of a Rottweiler dog: brave, loyal, protective, sweet to those who it cares for 😌

Jeonghan

☆ When the Sorting Hat hits his head, it immediately rumples in confusion. “Oh, you’re an interesting one, aren’t you?” It waffles between Hufflepuff and Slytherin before finally declaring… “Can you hear him trying to bargain? Must be a Slytherin!” Jeonghan, for his part, just laughs.

☆ The Yoons are an old wizarding family and their son knows next to nothing about the Muggle world. Thusly Jeonghan makes up a bunch of bullshit at school about Muggle life to convince everyone he totally does. It works every time…so long as no Muggleborns are present at least.

☆ Jeonghan adores Charms class because it paves the way for so many useful spells and gives him a whole arsenal of things to use. He also loves Divination aka bullshitting class because he thrives, duh 😌 the professor loves him, too, because he participates so much and knows what to say, but somehow it escapes his notice how often his predictions are actually accurate.

☆ History of Magic is a lot to remember and not an interesting enough class to give him the drive to study hard, so it’s his hardest subject.

☆ He plays on the Quidditch team because his friend convince him to, but man does it turn out he’s a skilled Beater. This man is a menace with a Bludger.

☆ Thinking of his happiest memory, Jeonghan exclaims “Expecto Patronum!”, unsure what to expect until he sees the burst of light come flying out, taking the shape of a little crow that lands on his shoulder. Not what he was expecting, but the bird charms him immediately with the way it playfully tries to get his attention.

Joshua

☆ “Oh, aren’t you a fun one?” Joshua, frankly, isn’t sure how to take that. Try and be more fun? “What are you planning?” The hat chides, bringing a slight flush of embarrassment to his face. “Lot of crafty ones this year, eh? We have another Slytherin!”

☆ Joshua’s a Muggleborn, so sometimes he feels like a fish out of water, but man is he liking the air. He wants to see it all, understand all that’s moving around him, and use magic to his advantage and enjoyment as much as possible!

☆ Being skilled at languages, Joshua takes up Ancient Runes as an elective and actually really likes it. Decoding is fun and it could prove useful if he decides to become a Curse-Breaker. He also likes Potions because it’s a nice, calm class.

☆ Transfiguration lowkey stresses him out, like what if he goes to transform his stuff and it never comes back??? Or a person?

☆ Slytherin’s Keeper. Good luck trying to score when Joshua is on the pitch 😌

☆ A bunch of other students ooh and ah at Joshua’s stag Patronus because that’s the one famous people get. Or something like that. The tall, antlered figure is elegant, imposing, and yet with a gentle side as it bows its head to its caster regally.

Jun

☆ “You spend a lot of time thinking about others.” Junhui’s eyes widen- he wasn’t expecting to have so much revealed through the hat. “I- I try to,” he replied modestly, at which the hat chuckles. “An innocent mind. Hufflepuff it is!” He’s still trying to wrap his head around how the hat read him and what it meant as they help him off the stool.

☆ He’s a Half-Blood, his mother being a witch and his father a Muggle. He got more experience with Muggle culture than his brother did, so he ended up getting to bond over showing him non-magical inventions 🥹

☆ Care of Magical Creatures is absolutely his favorite class, like Jun gets so excited every day they meet wondering what amazing being he’ll interact with next. The day they had a kneazle cat was pretty much his favorite day at school ever. He also enjoys Muggle Studies because it gives him lots of materials for letters home to his lil bro 🫶🏻

☆ Doesn’t really have a class he hates, but Arithmancy takes the most work so 🤷🏻‍♀️

☆ He tries out to be a Hufflepuff Chaser, but doesn’t make the cut 💀 avid fan and watcher of Hogwarts matches who sometimes tries to follow the commentator up to his post.

☆ Can’t suppress a grin in Defense Against the Dark Arts when a cute little striped cat bursts from his wand, turning around to rub against his legs.

Hoshi

☆ “Bravery aplenty!” Exclaims the Sorting Hat, which makes Soonyoung grin even wider, his excitement growing, “Eager too. A hard worker, sure, but this one’s too daring for Hufflepuff. Better be Gryffindor!” “Yes!” Soonyoung knew he’d be happy anywhere, but he wanted to be sorted with the lions and it looks like he got his wish!

☆ Soonyoung is a Half-Blood. Pretty much all of the Kwons are wizards, but somewhere up the family tree are some Muggleborns, maybe even a Muggle or two. All are welcome in Soonyoung’s family, so he grows up with little understanding how anyone could care about things like that!

☆ Loves to fly! It’s his favorite thing ever, like good luck getting him out of the sky. He also likes Defense Against the Dark Arts because it’s an active class, one where he can move, duel, and practice being in a real-life situation.

☆ Feels like History of Magic is all in one ear, out the other 🤕 that class is a cram before the test vibe for sure.

☆ One of Gryffindor’s Beaters. A little too excited about it, so some accidents have nearly happened but hey, it makes for an exciting game 🤷🏻‍♀️

☆ When that time comes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a bunch of his friends tease him that he’ll have a small Patronus like a hamster or something, but he insists it’s going to be a powerful tiger, and he’s right 😌 is too overjoyed at the sight of the glowing tiger to rub it in their faces, though 🐅 big memories and emotions = big Patronus??? Not guaranteed, but in Soonyoung’s case certainly!

Wonwoo

☆ “Smart kid,” the Sorting Hat comments when it’s set upon Wonwoo, “sure, you’ve got a bravery about you, you’re kind, but you’re a Ravenclaw!” Wonwoo just nods, thanking the hat- he agrees with the verdict, happily joining his table.

☆ Being a Muggleborn, Wonwoo has a drive to learn about how magic works. Why do some people have it? Why don’t witches and wizards seem to know this or care, especially if they care about bloodlines so much? He also wants to be one of the best just to put the people who doubt him in their place.

☆ One of the few Hogwarts students who actually enjoys Arithmancy and History of Magic. To him, they’re just calm subjects he can focus on and pore over, which is kinda his study method anyway tbh. It kinda works out though because then they go to him for tutoring.

☆ Boy is good at everything, none of the classes are really a struggle for him. Divination seems like the biggest waste of time, though, once he gets in there.

☆ Joins Quidditch as one of Ravenclaw’s chasers. He isn’t sure how much he’s going to like it, but he loves being part of the team! Quite an adept scorer.

☆ People all assume it’s going to be a cat, but Wonwoo casts a polecat Patronus. So, you know, he gets it in the name even though it’s more rodent. Polecats are crafty, comfortable in their home groups, and probably more similar to their caster than everyone might have originally suspected.

Woozi

☆ “Someone’s a hard worker,” comes the Sorting Hat’s teasing comment upon touching Jihoon’s head, “you’ll study well, won’t you? But that dedication…that’s Hufflepuff for you!” Jihoon is a bit surprised, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the news, but he likes to think the hat is right: he’s dedicated to his dreams, hardworking. Maybe that is his home.

☆ Being a Muggleborn, Jihoon has a bit of a tough time adjusting to magic. In some ways, he’s almost a bit resistant simply because he doesn’t want to rely on waving a wand for every little thing he could handle himself.

☆ There’s something so inspiring to him about looking at the stars, so he looks forward to Astronomy class. He also enjoys Transfiguration, the ability to make something new totally amazing him. He wonders what it feels like to transform like that.

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts is kind of a boisterous, stressful class in his mind. All the running around and fighting isn’t really his style.

☆ Has enough other extracurricular stuff going on that he passes on Quidditch tryouts, but enough good friends play that he tries to make it to every game he can!

☆ At first, he isn’t sure why a bat Patronus would suit him, especially when everyone thought he was going to get a cat, but bats are known for using their voices to guide their way. They rely on their music and take time to trust, and Jihoon sees that as he bonds with his little guardian. Both of them take time to themselves, but thrive best in their circles when they come out of their shells.

DK

☆ “Bad thoughts don’t often cross your mind, do they?” The voice of the hat muses upon its placement atop Seokmin’s head. “And you’ve a big heart, yes, indeed… most definitely a Hufflepuff!” Seokmin claps, happy to be in a house with some friendly-looking people and a bit shy to hear the hat say such nice things.

☆ Seokmin is a Muggleborn, both of his parents so proud to have magical children. He thinks it’s super cool too and always says he knew all along his family was magical 🥲 all the magical stuff absolutely amazes him, even the most tedious things are things he wants to experience!

☆ He loves Care of Magical Creatures because omg look! A unicorn! A real-life hippogryph!!! Bowtruckles! It’s all so unbelievable, yet so real, like dreams have been laid out before him. That’s the same reason he looks forward to Herbology, like where else can you see sentient plants?

☆ Loves every class! They are all exciting! *Ancient Runes has entered the chat* Ok, maybe classes can be stressful.

☆ He wants to get over his nerves on a broomstick, so to do that he tried out for Quidditch and makes Seeker. He likes that position because it’s a little removed from the pandemonium of the game and he can think like a Snitch 😌

☆ He’s honestly expecting a small animal, not feeling very brave as he shouts “Expecto Patronum!” but well aware he’ll just be ecstatic if he gets any animal form. Imagine his surprise when he gets a magical creature, a beautiful unicorn leaping from his wand! “I- I made that???” He grins, immediately reaching up to try to stroke its mane, awestruck at the beautiful, pure creature even if he doesn’t realize how perfectly it suits his heart.

Mingyu

☆ “You’re a bit bold, aren’t you?” Mingyu nods, thinking he’s supposed to answer the hat. “Not exactly the most courageous…” “Hey!” “Confident, confident certainly…” “M-hm,” he nods again. “You believe you have skills to offer Hogwarts.” “Yes,” Mingyu agrees. “Send this one to Slytherin!” The hat chuckles.

☆ The Kims are an long line of wizards, Mingyu one of many Pure-Blood sons. He doesn’t know much about Muggle culture, frankly, but has more privilege in lifestyle than he does prejudice against people with different blood.

☆ Potions ace. So good at it sometimes the other students are salty at him, but he just shrugs. It comes naturally for him, whether it’s preparing the ingredients or knowing just how much to add. He also likes Divination just because it’s fun. What do his tea leaves say? He legitimately wants to know.

☆ He does have a fear of flying, so broom lessons are not his favorite 😅 he’ll stay on the ground, thank you.

☆ Obviously does not join the Quidditch team, but is on the stands cheering super loud at every game!

☆ Everyone can’t help but tell Mingyu how perfect his husky Patronus is once it manifests, the goofy, vocal, affectionate dog running around practically looking like his twin!

The8

☆ As if drawn in by his aura, the hat muses as it rests upon Minghao’s head. “An artist, eh? Kind, forgiving, wise, and very calm too. A bright one. Ravenclaw, certainly Ravenclaw!” Between what he felt was a suitable sorting despite telling himself he’d be happy with anything and all the attention, Minghao practically glows at the hat’s words.

☆ The Xus are a Pure-Blood family, but Minghao’s parents are both avid Muggle Studies enthusiasts, so their son grew up with lots of knowledge and no prejudice. They all see magic as a chance to help others with less.

☆ Nature is important to this boy here, so Herbology is where his gifts lie. He’s so gentle with the plants and genuinely appreciative of them all, it’s a rewarding class to be able to track their lives. Following the movement of the stars is another joy of his as well as sketching the sky and making star charts, so Minghao does great in Astronomy too.

☆ There’s no class he really hates, but his magic isn’t as Charms-suited as it is focused on creative magic, so those quick spells actually take him more time.

☆ Because he likes flying, he tries out to be Ravenclaw’s new Seeker when the position opens up and earns it 😌 he’s so calm yet fast as he flies, it looks like he always knows exactly where his little gold friend is!

☆ People make jokes about his Patronus being a frog or something of the like, but they’re sure proven wrong by the beautiful swan that slides out, skating gracefully on the air around Minghao.

Seungkwan

☆ The moment the Sorting Hat hits Seungkwan’s head, it shouts out “Oh, we have a loyal one here. This one is a Hufflepuff!” A very decided ceremony for Mr. Boo 😌 he’s both shook at how little time it takes and happy the hat thinks he’s loyal.

☆ A Half-Blood! His mom is actually Pure-Blood, his father a Muggleborn. He loves magic, but also really enjoys learning about the Muggle world. Totally open to differences. Would even consider marrying a Muggle.

☆ LOVES Care of Magical Creatures. One of the students who almost always volunteers for demonstrations because he wants to touch all the animals! Unless they’re, like, giant bugs or something that’ll try to kill him, of course. Muggle Studies is really fun because it’s a way to connect with a part of his heritage and understand others. It gives him social ground with Muggleborns and even non-magical people he’ll interact with in life.

☆ Who made Arithmancy a class??? It stresses him out just to look at 💀 You’re allowed to drop electives, so he straight-up nopes out of Arithmancy and signs up for Divination instead.

☆ He enjoys flying, but being up that high and being chased by sporting goods that want to break your bones? Nah, he’s good, thanks. It’s much more fun to watch and offer comment, so Seungkwan becomes the school Quidditch commentator…and often gets chastised by professors for sassing rival times and whining about missed shots that were so easy, come on.

☆ Really really hopes his Patronus is strong enough to take an animal form, so when it comes out looking big he’s kind of proud yet shook. The light forms a dolphin that bobs back over to his owner, leaping in circles in the air around him and bringing a smile to his face.

Vernon

☆ “Interesting mind on this one, eh?” Those are the first words the hat speaks when it’s set on Vernon’s head. “A perfect fit for Ravenclaw, this one!” He’s proud. His mother was a Ravenclaw during her Hogwarts days, part of the most artful and creative-minded house. He can’t stop smiling all night!

☆ He’s a Pure-Blood wizard, his maternal grandmother having actually attended Beauxbatons before settling down in England. His father’s side always attended Hogwarts, so the school is really what joined his family. People tend to assume Vernon’s a Muggleborn, though, just because he looks so spaced out or amazed sometimes.

☆ Yet another lover of magical creatures right here! They love him right back too 😌 other students get jealous of how much they approach Vernon. He’s also quite good at Arithmancy, there’s just something about it that clicks in his head.

☆ Accidentally set something on fire in Potions class once. Enough said.

☆ Enjoys playing Quidditch for fun with his friends, but doesn’t try out for the formal team. He’s happy to support Ravenclaw alongside his classmates.

☆ Can’t help but laugh when his Patronus comes out as a small turtle. It’s cute, though, he and others defend it, a good embodiment of happy memories.

Dino

☆ Another pretty fast sort. “You’d make it in Gryffindor, sure,” the hat mutters, “but I believe your place is in Slytherin!” And with that, Chan is off to his table! He’s a bit surprised, having expected Gryffindor, but hey, Slytherins are ambitious, so the hat’s probably right. He’ll do anything to succeed.

☆ The Lees have a whole-ass family tree on display- they’re Pure-Bloods. A little proud of it, but frankly Chan himself doesn’t care, almost feeling that much more like being the one to break the line just to shut them all up about it.

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts star! That one kid that always gets called up to show everyone how to do it right 😤 such a natural dueler and just really good at dispelling negative vibes 😌 he also enjoys flying a lot, it just helps him feel free to soar into the air!

☆ Conversely, he has a lot of difficulty in Potions class, which makes him want to double down on it so he’s no longer stressing about it!

☆ Slytherin’s Seeker 😌 he’s such a nimble flyer with great control, Chan was born to play this role!

☆ He lowkey wants something big and intimidating like a dragon or a rhino, so when a small burst of light appears he fears he’ll be disappointed. The moment the otter slides into view, though, all he can do is smile and reach for it, taking its hand to run after it and play, too.

[bonefall]

could fern leaf be a former park cat or something that clear sky sends to spy on tall shadow & then defects? or, since she’s important to the rescue of star flower in the books, maybe she could be involved with one-eye somehow…? even though star flower is totally different now, so she doesn’t really Need rescuing from any situation she’s in that you’ve talked about so far. guess it depends on which aspects of the character best serve the story, and whether she would work better as part of DOTC proper or thunder’s SE

i also genuinely can’t remember if bb!clear sky’s original M.O. for his group is Tribe Cats Only, or if he is willing to take in anyone who kisses his ass enough. could make sense if fern leaf (or more accurately, any tom willing to vouch for her) appeals to clear sky enough. hell, maybe she could be a mole on one-eye’s behalf instead?

(Follow up ask to this post)

The new rub to the formation of the groups in BB is that there is two distinct cultures in the forest: Park Cats and Tribe Cats. They're divided by a language barrier, with the Park Cats speaking Parkmew and the Tribe cats speaking what we now call Old Tribemew.

So Clear Sky doesn't have the same "options" like canon. These ""rogues"" don't speak his language and he simply would not learn even if the chance was offered to him. It doesn't even really cross his mind that these are full people to reach out to; in his mind they're intruders. The flavor of bigotry in the modern era hasn't quite evolved yet, so he has the most straightforward kind of xenophobia you can imagine.

He only starts changing his mind after the First Battle, after his revelation, when he's back on his bullshit in Thunderstar's Justice. In my head it's kind of like... a mockery of Thunder Storm's way of life, that allowed him to live in defiance of him for so long. "See, now I do what you do. Since Gray Wing approved of you so much." kinda thing

There's two park cat groups; The River Kingdom, and The Wind Coalition.

The first conflict the Sun Trail Pioneers run into is with WindCo up on the moor, who chases them down into the forest! The Park cats who lived in the forest weren't united, just various individuals that had little "homestead" territories.

The conflicts with them start after the Shadow/Sky split that follows the death of Jagged Peak. Shadow's Clan moved eastward into the caves at Snakerocks, where no one bothered them, but Sky's Clan started getting hostile towards the little homesteads and pushing cats westward, back to the River Kingdom.

SO with that recap out of the way...

I have two and a half-ish cats already that I'm heavily interested in using to turn on Clear Sky for Thunder's Clan. So I'm not sure how to slot Fern Leaf in there.

1: Snake. Snake is the only cat in-canon who said that maybe Clear Sky shouldn't be their leader after letting One Eye into the Clan against all warnings, and then he gets DOGPILED for it, and the very next book shoves him into the arms of Slash to undermine the fact that they accidentally gave him a good fucking point.

I'm RIDICULOUSLY fond of him because of this. I love him out of spite. I've spoken before about how I plan for him to be a Tribe-descended cat, and a lot of that is because I want to keep his goon roles serving Clear Sky. One of which is that he is going to badly injure Sunlit Frost in the First Battle.

So thinking about it... it makes the most sense for Snake to turn on Clear Sky in Thunderstar's Justice. Still unsure when. But if I have any roles where a cat needs to get help, stop a battle, or call Clear Sky out for making a really bad decision, it's gotta be him.

I'll keep him in my hand for a while; this feels like a piece that will fall into place.

I'm also unsure of what family he's going into. I keep waffling on it. I'm leaning towards the Claw family and possibly the son of Fox, since he's going to be living a bit longer. He's going to be about the same age as Thunder Storm, maybe a bit older.

2: Red Claw Since Acorn Fur is now Acorn Swoop, and she's not nonsensically going to go join the guy who killed both of her parents because it would be too sad to go home where they're not alive, her love interest has to end up in Thunder's Clan.

I'm already pretty committed to making Petal into Petal Claw and Fox into Fox Claw, so it follows that Red Claw would be in the family. Thinking about it, maybe Red should be the son of Fox instead...

Especially because he could defect earlier. Moth Flight's Vision is totally overhauled anyway and I'm planning to shift a lot of the original plot to something for another character anyway...

Plus, enemies-to-lovers is fun and I haven't really had a chance to do it yet. Acorn Swoop is absolutely the kind of punk who would nab one of her worst enemy's best soldiers, and the type of nerd who would frame it like her biggest catch yet.

("OI THUNDER!! LOOKIE WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN")

And most relevantly... this is leaving Fern Leaf's backstory up in the air. Him leading a dog pack into the heart of camp and getting Beech and Frog killed is what kicked off the Bunny Bones plot of the original MFV that I like so much, and I feel like it's an important part of Fern Leaf.

So not only am I here planning Red Claw as a high priority for being someone to turn against Clear Sky, but also, he complicates Fern Leaf a bit.

Maybe I should step back a bit on the two and start from scratch with them, and replace their backstories with new ones that preserve the "emotional core." I'll have to think about it.

That 1/2 Cat: Alder or Birch The kits that are stolen from Misty, that queen who was murdered by Clear Sky and whose kits are given to Petal. In BB, that's something I want to examine for how fucked up it is. It becomes the basis of Kit Stealing later, an awful practice that the Clans will struggle with for many generations.

These ones are SUPER important, but I say 1/2 because it doesn't have to be Thunder's Clan they turn for. But I do want one of them to eventually learn their origin, and end up finding their family in River Kingdom or the Wind Coalition.

I mention them because I keep going back and forth on if they're going to get combined with other characters. Basically imagine me next to a big conspiracy chart and I'm connecting a big red line between possible plot threads back to Fern Leaf. Maybe her? Maybe she can be one of the stolen kits?

I could even make it so Birch is actually an older sibling, or a half-sibling, or one from the same litter who was saved... maybe even end up making it a litter of 4. Slots in well with her canon story, too, where she mentions her mother abandoned her.

The truth can be that it was a lie. Her mother didn't abandon her. One of them was murdered and the other was chased off.

And, of course, I could save her to be a "One Eye Cultist." None of my drafts so far have brought in any extra followers of One Eye who will follow him from place-to-place besides Star Flower herself. I would like to add some, and that's a fine place for Fern Leaf, but somehow I feel like I can do her better.

[shiro-s2e2-erukinzu]

Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 90... You have been warned...! 👌

[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]

What an adorable little chapter today!! It sure was a sweet one...!! 🤗

Honestly, nothing too crazy happened in today's chapter, but there is still quite a bit that I wanna talk about...!! 😁 So let's get to talking about it, shall we...? 😊

The chapter begins with Anya tagging along with Yor, who's taking Bond for a walk...!! 😁

AND THEY'RE GOING TO THE SAME PARK THAT THEY CUT OUT OF THE ANIME THAT ONE TIME...!! 👌😆

Once there, Anya's having the time of her life until she overhears some kids talking about this old man...:

And when I first saw this man, my theorist brain started thinking of all the possible people who this man might be...! 🤔

Is he possibly one of the scientists that experimented on people and animals to give them powers? (Like Anya and Bond... 🤔)

Does he have powers like Anya? (Maybe to read minds or something else...! 😲)

Is he a long lost relative of one of the Forgers? (Most likely to Anya, but Yor and Loid are also possible...! 😌)

Honestly, out of all the possibilities that I thought of, being a long lost relative to one of the Forgers is what I think is the most plausible...!! (But for now, he's just a random old man.)

Anyway, because of what those kids were saying about him, Anya thought that the old man was a spy, but he just wants to go home to his wife...!! 💗

So, Yor, Anya and Bond decide to help the lost old man find his home...!! 😊 But since he mumbles a lot, Anya uses her powers to, um... Varying degrees...! 😅

OH MY GOD ANYA!! 🤣That is NOT at all what the old man was thinking...!! 😂

Yor, Anya and Bond take the old man to the market because he remembered that he was gonna go do some shopping...! 😄 And as they walk through the market, the old man remembers how it was during the war... 😔

Every time when I see stuff about the war that took place in this story, it always makes think about all the horrible conflicts that are happening out in the world right now and how I hope that one day no one will have to suffer through things like war ever again...

...

Anyway, Yor, Anya and Bond try to figure out where the old man lives, but they end up back at the park...! So they try again and...:

THEY ACCIDENTALLY RUN INTO SOME THUGS THAT START SHOOTING AT THEM...!! 😱

After running around some more, they stop near a place that sells waffles and the old man offers to buy Anya one...!! Then, Yor has a thought:

Oh, my heart... 💔

Honestly though, this is probably my favorite moment in this chapter...! 💗 Just the fact that Yor thinks about if Anya misses something that she never had, it makes me wonder how Yor will feel when she finds out that Anya didn't really have anything until the Forgers came to be...

Then, the gang gets a lead as to where the old man might live thanks to a coupon that fell out his pocket and Anya recognizing where it's from...!! And then...:

They end up at their apartment building...!! But, all is not lost because this IS where the old man lives!! 😆 We see Twilight helping the old man's wife with moving because they are going to be living next door to the Forgers...!! 😊

Lastly, the old man and his wife properly introduced themselves as Sigmund and Barbara Authen...

...and two of them get real lovey dovey with each other after being reunited...!! 💗🤗💗

And that was Mission 90, and it was such a sweet little chapter...!! 🤗 I am loving the recent focus on showing more of Yor and Anya (and Bond) together, their relationship just makes me so happy...!! 💗 Something else that I'm wondering is if whether or not Sigmund and Barbara are gonna show up again in the future (and if they'll have a secret connection to Anya in some way) because I both love them and are quite intrigued by them (especially since they were actually given names...!! 😌) I also wonder if the Authens' relationship is a possible hint as to how Loid and Yor will be like to each other in the future...!! 💗😏💗

Something that I just realized is that ten chapters from now, we'll be at Mission 100!! 😆 I don't know if Endo will do something special for this milestone, but I sure do hope that he does!! 😊

Anyway, that's pretty much all I wanted to say about this chapter...!! 😁 So until the next Mission... Take care, be safe out there and be kind to one another...!! 👋😄

[ananke-xiii]

“Regarding Dean” is an okay episode, the perfect episode to place between “Lily Sunder has Some Regrets” and “Stuck in the Middle with You”. It feels filler-y but it’s totally not because it shows us where Sam and Dean stand as far as s12 main themes are concerned: family&love.

To the surprise of probably nobody, we find out that Sam is struggling a lot when it comes to how he positions himself within his family and around the people he loves. Dean, on the other hand, is walking on a much safer ground (which seems like a joke since the ep is literally about Dean slowly losing his memory but I’ll get there), he’s ready to move on to the next chapter of his life, a chapter where his relationship with his brother is not his only&main focus.

Who are the other members of Sam and Dean’s family? This episode tells us it’s Mary and Cas. Even though, so far in the season, Mary has come and gone, Cas has spent a considerable amount of time with none other than Crowley and the brothers have spent a couple of months in prison, the episode explicitly highlights multiple times that Mary and Cas are their family, no matter the amount of time they all actually spend together: what matters is the infamous bond between them.

And who’s feeding this bond? Who’s actually keeping in touch with Mary and Cas? Who’s the primary point of contact? Dean, of course. At the beginning of the episode, when Sam meets Dean at the waffle joint and realizes Dean is maybe drunk and his smartphone is dead, he says: “All right, well, I'll text Mom, make sure she knows to get a hold of me in case of emergency. And Cas, in case he tracks down Kelly”.

So it’s safe to say (and it is because we’ve already seen in past episodes that Sam is definitely not the one playing games and texting with Mary, nor the one calling Cas or receiving calls from him: people in this family know who to contact and it’s not Sam) that Sam is somehow detached from this family dynamic and, we’ll later discover, doesn’t really know what to make of this.

After Sam discovers that Dean is not hangover but hexed, the first thing Dean says is: “Look, we could figure this out, okay? Don't go callin' Mom or Cas with this”. Mmmm, interesting. We’re back to Mary and Cas. Again. And why shouldn’t Sam call them? And, maybe more importantly, why Sam doesn’t call them anyway? So maaany questions :P

The last time Mary and Cas are mentioned together again is in the mirror scene. Dean is regarding himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to remember who he is and he defines himself as follows: “Ahh. Okay. My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Uh, Mary Winchester is my mom. And Cast—Cas is my best friend”. So Dean defines himself based on his relationship with the different family members: brother, son, best friend. Once he starts forgetting who these people are he also starts forgetting himself:

“My name is Dean Wi—Winchester.

My name—My name is...

My... My... I don’t know”.

This is crucial. The scene is quite tragic but it’s telling us an important truth: what matters to Dean, what’s important to him to the point that it defines who he is, is his relationship with his family, with the people he loves. I said that it’s quite tragic because, at least to me, it’s a bit bleak that Dean doesn’t know who he is without other people. But I’ll come back to this point later.

So who is Dean? The reply comes right after the mirror scene from Rowena’s mouth: “Oh, you're a killer, Dean Winchester”. And this is super interesting because  just before we had this dialogue:

Rowena: You can really remember nothing, can you? What a gift not to recall the things you've done.

Dean: What have I done?

Are people the things they have done? Rowena could’ve said “You kill people, Dean” but no, she says “You are a killer”. And okay, the use of the verb “to kill” can start a debate on morals&justice&law (what’s the difference between killing and being a killer etc) but not the point here. The point here being that Rowena, regarding Dean, is confusing being and doing but Dean is not. He replies: “Wait, I... I kill people?”.

Rowena continues in her “misunderstanding”:

Rowena: But... but... though you may be a stubborn pain in the arse with the manners of a Neanderthal and the dining habits of a toddler, everything you've done, you've done... for the greater good.

Dean: Oh, and that's supposed to make it okay?

Rowena: I wouldn't know. You help those other than yourself. But me, I've done horrible things, and I told myself it was fine. It was the price of power. And power's what matters, right?

Then I met God and his sister. The two most powerful beings in the universe, wasting it on squabbling with each other. I thought, if—if they can't be happy, or at least satisfied, how can there be any hope for me?

Okay, so now we maybe have a clearer picture of who Dean is: he’s a killer (or he kills people) but he does so for the greater good. To help people other than himself. This is not exactly news to us, I mean, this episode is not telling us anything actually NEW about Dean but the catch is that it’s not about him, it’s about regarding him. How people perceive him and how he perceives himself. The last being the most important thing, we’ll have the answer at the end of the episode.

Rowena also drops the “happy” bomb. She’s talking based on the assumption that she must do things in order to be happy, even if these are horrible things, things she tells herself she's fine doing them because it’s the price of power. We’re starting to see the old theme of the “price of happiness” and Rowena thinks she’s paid it but she’s still unhappy and she’s becoming hopeless.

(Cas' love declaration in s15x18 echoes Rowena's dialogue, apart from the Dean thing (you're not a killer aka you're not how your enemies regard you, you're the most caring man aka you're how the people that love you regard you etc), Cas' words circle around the same concept: happiness is not in the having, is in the being or, maybe even more importantly, is in the giving oneself permission to be your true self)

Now we need to talk about Sam. While Dean is having an existential crisis in the bathroom, Sam drops another fucking bomb: “You know, I've seen my brother die, but watching him become... not him... This might actually be worse”.

Excuse me, sir? I mean, this is a very very loaded thing to say. To Sam Winchester seeing his brother dying might be better than watching him become not him. Which is also incorrect, because Dean is not not becoming him, he’s just Dean without "the weight" of the past on his shoulders. (btw, will somebody please give a hug to this giant man who's lived a life where death is o-kay and what's worse is living and not knowing how to move on? Please??? He needs it!) I think this says more about how Sam feels about himself than about how he feels about Dean and his relationship with his brother. And I think I’m right because at the end of the episode Sam explicitly says he was jealous. Sam really should be the one regarding himself in the mirror (and it’s a fucking shame that we didn’t get something like this for Sam because god, it’d be bomb) trying to remember who he is because Dean might be losing his memories but Sam is totally lost and in the dark.

He doesn’t call Mary or Cas because ??? but he does call Rowena for help, Rowena magically teleports and immediately arrives (okay she has an agenda but she does come super quickly, let’s give her that), she agrees to help them and to all of that Sam says: “I obviously don’t trust you”. Which, to be honest, fair, Sam I approve your long-lasting distrust of everything that has to do with Crowley because you have real reasons to do so. But it’s also time for you to learn to create meaningful connections and you cannot do so if you’re not willing to trust people. (important: Rowena tries to steal the Black Grimoire in this ep, the same book that she’ll try to steal in s13. Sam will then give her the one page she needs for her spell, so, you know, way to go Sam! It takes him one whole season to trust Rowena with one only page of the book but, progress).

Okay, time to wrap this rambling up with the final scene. We have this dialogue right here and it’s so gooood:

Sam: So how you holding up after the spell?

Dean: That thing kicked my ass.

Sam: You know, I gotta be honest. I was actually, uh, a little jealous at first.

Dean: Of what? The curse that nearly killed me?

Sam: No, just, you know... some of the things we've done, we've had this weight for... forever. And seeing it gone, uh, you looked happy.

Dean: Huh. Well, look, was it nice to drop our baggage? Yeah, maybe. Hell, probably. But it wasn't just the crap that got lost. I mean, it was everything. It was us, it was what we do, you know? All of it. So... that's what being happy looks like? I think I'll pass.

Sam and Rowena were a little jealous at first. Because Dean showed them life without the weight of the things they carry, the things they’ve done. Dean looked HAPPY. We can infer that Sam and Rowena are not happy, they do feel the weight of the things they’ve done and they would like OUT. They still have a long walk ahead of them to discover who they are apart from what they do and decide what’s next, what they decide to do, who they want to be and what are the actions that can lead them there.

But Dean, Dean is almost there, people. He’s not lost at all, even though he was the one with the brain almost gone. “It was us” and “it was what we do”. The distinction for him it’s clear. And he has weighted the pros and the cons and he has decided that IF that's what happiness is, if happiness is just forgetting about the crap, forgetting about the past, he will pass. He’s not willing to pay the price for a happiness where he doesn’t have a connection with his family, where the people he cares about (and for whom he does very bad things) are not there. The price for the supposed happiness is not worth Sam, Mary and Cas.

Earlier I said that I thought it was bleak, you know, not knowing yourself apart from other people. But the last scene where Dean is riding Larry (and he’s not yet under the spell so he’s Dean-Dean there) gives a lot of unexpected hope.

The song in the background is nostalgic and, frankly sad:

“So dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy

Dream while you can

For soon, you'll be a dreadful thing

My son, you'll be a man”

But it’s appropriate. Dean has accepted that, for him, caring for the people he loves is what constitutes his happiness. He has accepted that “horrible things” have been done and maybe will be done in their names. Acceptance is key: he’s on the right path to discover new parts of himself. He doesn't want to lose "the crap" because losing it means he'll also lose the people he cares about. And without the these people, without Sam, Mary and Cas, he doesn't yet know who he is. But he wants to find out. He wants to move on. And he wants to move on with the people he loves, doing "the good and the bad", not alone, oblivious and fake-happy. It’s bittersweet as all changes are but it must be done. He’s ready to grow up, ready to be a man, ready for love, ready to start a family, guys :").

(unfortunately it'll all go to pieces when Cas dies and Mary disappears in the AU (OF COURSE Dean will lose his will to live after that, because he was still in the process of differantiating himself from others, but he was SO there ffs) so thanks for nothing s12)(s14 "Lebanon" thankfully comes back to this theme and there Dean finally says, again and out loud for the people in the back, that he's okay with the choices he's made because they resulted in this crazy-ass, totally weirdo, supernatural family and he loves it and he's good with that. PERIOD)

[blubushie]

Hey Blu! I just saw one of your old asks on how the mercs designs are good because they look like normal everyday people you can see out on the streets. And that just reminded me of my favorite tropes in fanfic that I don't see that much in today's TF2 fics which the mercs have an uncanniness to them because of their regular looks. Like I remembered it popped up more often in the fics that where publish when I was in high school. Not complaining bc I just appreciate it more when it pops up. Like there's a ficlet still circulating here where while in jail, before comic 2 happens, Scout basicly beats up most of the inmates in jail for ciggs for Spy. It sets up how intimidating Scout is when an inmate twice Scouts size couldn't even move him and how the inmate was jarring reminded that despite his size, Scout is One of the infamous 9 mercenaries.

Like bc of this trope I developed headcanons that the mercs are actually the closest things to super soldiers bc of 1.) Constant fighting/training 2.) Mad science/experimentation of Medic 3.) Respawn keeping them at near top shape/slow aging. So regular looking guys + intense fighting near daily + mad science/magic + random weird shenanigans that happens to them = an uncanniness and uneasiness around the mercs in public when they move in away /do stuff no average person can do or is expected to do of their appearance.

Sorry if this makes no sense it's 7:14am and I literally JUST woke up, do not expect lucidity from me yet

I love this shit and it features slightly in my fic, both in Jesse's fighting ability but also Mundy's. Primarily it's Mundy's—he gets in more fistfights in the fic than Jesse (though not for her lack of aggression).

I don't think RESPAWN would do much via muscle training—every time they die, any muscle progression is just reset. So the physically strongest of the mercs would be those that don't die often. Heavy, because of his health bar, and maybe Medic, because everyone protects him (and he lugs around the Medigun which must weigh a fucken tonne). This is supported a little by Medic outright lifting Soldier off his feet in Expiration Date.

But there's gotta be some shit they're feeding those cunts if Spy can one-handed fire his stock revolver, a .357 Colt Python; the Big Kill, a S&W Model 29 .44; and the Ambassador, a Dan Wesson PPC .357 (THAT WEIGHS 3.6kg MIND YOU—ALMOST AS MUCH AS MY RIFLE WITHOUT HER SCOPE). This is without mentioning that the Russian translation of the Sniper VS Spy update states that the Ambassador actually fires .50AE like it's a fucken Deagle. Spy's grip strength must be INSANE.

Mostly though I reckon it's mental fortitude over physical. Believe me, you train harder in combat situations than ACTUAL training scenarios because trauma makes shit stick in your brain better. You learn lessons when there's risk better than when there's no risk involved. And with often the mercs die and engage each other physically, I'm fully on the boat of "they look normal, but they're not".

The freakier is that I think they actually blend very well into public environments. Sometimes Sniper walks to the shops in SST minus the thongs and looks like any other bloke off the street you'd see at a servo. Sometimes Scout goes in to the local diner for their all-you-can-eat chicken and waffles deal. Sometimes Engie visits the local tack shop "just for a look around", Soldier and Demo go fishing together, Medic goes to the pharmacy and looking at any of them you'd never suspect a thing.

They all have an almost uncanny ability to look like they entirely belong whereever they are and blend into their environment, so really the only time you even get a hint that they aren't your average person is when there's a situation where they need to showcase their skills. Scout catches a flyball while walking past the local baseball field practically without looking and tosses it back. Soldier can jump down stairs while in a rush and stick the landing with no injury. Demo recognises the sulphur of a gas leak before anyone else can smell it. Spy can lift things his scrawny frame shouldn't be able to lift, Engie can notice any shimmer or shiny thing regardless how small, Sniper has a hawk's eyes and can pick out movement from a half a click away in the dark where other people just see black.

Their jobs have made them very effective professionals—it's a pity the general public so rarely gets to see it.

[g-xix]

RANKING the BETA SQUAD + HC's

Ranking from 1-10 on the who i find most to least attractive out of the beta squad and co! This includes Harry Pinero, Filly, Johnny Carey, Gib and Darkest on top of the beta squad, also.

Kinda just realised after writing this that I didn't rank them on attractiveness but just how much I'd wanna date them + dating headcannons... But either way, onto the rankings:

10. Johnny Carey I gotta give it to him, he's SHREDDED which is a big positive, but his content j isn't relatable or accurate to me which is probs bc the target audience is boys... Still feels a bit dodgy though, not a massive fan of that + the fact I feel like he'd be kinda mean in the relationship and expect you to take a joke is he ever just says smth blatanly rude, which is not it for me. I'll give it to him though- he's really physically attractive and the accent is lowkey kinda hot

9. Filly Felipé He's such boyfriend material. Like, he's so cute and I feel like he'd be so touch-needy and loving, but at the same time he's so energetic I would NOT be able to keep up. And the laugh could probs shatter my eardrums because of the ultrasonic metro-boom it emits. I'm waffling- basically, I think he'd be a great boyfriend but he's just too friendzone-y for me

8. Chunkz  Like Filly, I feel like Chunkz'd be so cute when he's touch-needy and just wants to chill and spend time together... But I feel like he'd be onesided...?? Like, if he wanted to just spend some time cuddling n watching a movie then that's be fine... But if you patted the bed n asked him to come spend some time he'd say "Nah not in the mood"- j like blatantly shut it down which i probs couldn't take, as a very touch-dependant person

7. Darkest This place where "I would deffo date and I think he's so cute" starts on the list. This guy deffo wouldn't turn down some quality affection whether that just be hugging or chilling with his arm around you, and I can imagine him being endless entertainment. Just coming into your room, asking what you're doing before launching into random conversation for approximately two hours before he remembers he came to let you know dinner was ready and on the table. He may be bald, but he's proof that boyfriend material isn't measured in hair follicles 🫶

6. Gib He's probs quite high on the list, but he'd be such a vibe honestly. He'd make fun of you in the way that's easily laugh-off-able and he'd not get offended if you threw a comment back. Definitely says no whenever you ask whether he wants to go out or spend time together, but when you go to leave he says "JOKING, JOKING, OF COURSE I DO" and then plans out the most amazing date or just general thing to do.

5. Sharky I know people might think he's proper low on the list but idk i just grew out of my finding Sharky hot phase within like two weeks... I think it has something to do with the fact someone called him a variation of Paul Breech on TikTok and that altered all my perceptions of Sharky. That being said, I feel like if he even looked at me for a SECOND I'd fold. Undeniably, this man is attractive, and I feel like he'd be so good in a relationship. He'd happily oblige to touch and cuddling and organise such cute dates even once he's asked you to be his gf. He's a Pinterest-core boyfriend I reckon <3

4. Harry Pinero I SEE EVERYONE PUTTING PINERO SO LOW. NAH. HE'S... Annoying at times but fine. I have conflicted feelings about his personality, but when he's that fine I can let being slightly annoying slide. I think he'd be so touchy around friends because he wants to show you, the gf off. Absolutely, unbelievably proud to have you as a gf and always has his arm around your waist, or your shoulder, or is bending down to whisper something into your ear with a grin. Also this might be a bit out of pocket, but I feel like sex life with him would absolutely be one of the most exciting- you all heard the story about him getting head in the back of the taxi, right? Yeah, sex life w Pinero would be WILD. 

3. Niko He's fine but it feels wrong bc he has a gf- ever since I found that out I've been HEARTBROKEN- LIKE SOMEONE THAT'S FRESH OUT OF BEING DUMPED, I'VE BEEN TRYING TO AVOID HIM AND NOT CATCH FEELS AGAIN 😭.  That being said, he's undeniably fucking gorgeous and he's funny and... He's everything. He is the moment. He is... not mine :( . He's got the full package though fr, and putting him any lower that top 3 on this list would be a VIOLATION.

2. AJ Honestly broke my heart having to choose between AJ and Kenny for top spot because they're BOTH. SO. FINE. Aj's hair is so attractive and his eyes are just so UGH. Man's out here proving the triangle really is the strongest shape. He's such a mix of golden-boyfriend-material and would-be-super-annoying, but I would cherish this man either way. I may be taller than him, but he's just too fine- his style, his hair, his eyes, his triangle-head- he's too hot for this world.

1. Kenny Of course, this man had to be number one. The hair when it's fresh is absolutely gorgeous and either way, he's so fine with the durag on. And the glasses as well?? Completely weak in the knees. He screams confidence because he just knows he's hot and that somehow makes him even more attractive. Plus him being a boxer but also being so soft and touchy just makes him 100% boyfriend material. Don't try convince me otherwise. Also strikes me as the type of guy to just know what you want... Like, he'd just come home randomly with ginger nut biscuits and you would finish them before the end of the day because they're just exactly what you needed. And he'd plan dates so perfectly. Once again, this man is fresh out of Pinterest, the way he'd organise the cutest picnic dates and activity nights <33

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I'm not too sure who you're meant to tag in tag lists but I'm gonna tag @lia-wrld who's also done this (check out her list) and @kennysboxergf who I first saw do this!

Thanks for reading n hope everyone enjoyed :)

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

[multifandoms27-blog]

Hello there!

I just stumbled across your blog and I love your posts! And when I saw that you also write for Creepypasta, I just had to send in a request, especially considering that there's barely anything there!

So may I ask for some general and romantic headcanons for Toby? I really love this guy!

I hope you have a wonderful day and remember to stay hydrated!

(Also, apologies if there are any mistakes, English isn't my native language ^^)

See ya! :D

Hi! Thank you, Vero, you stay hydrated and have a wonderful day as well! I'm so glad you love my stuff <3 I was just thinking about doing something for Toby, so you're in luck hehe

(Also, your English is amazing my friend. No worries <3)

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Content: Toby general and romantic headcanons with gender neutral reader

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, implied murder, implied violent bipolar episodes, obsessive behavior, toxic jealousy, toxic relationship, and implied familial trauma.

Notes: I come from the era of creepypasta where everybody believed Toby was very obsessed with waffles, and was horribly misinterpreted in fanfiction. That was about eight years ago now though, and from what I've seen the fandom has been getting better with representation of Toby.

I've put a lot of thought into this. Might use this as inspo to revamp my Jeff headcanon list.

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(art by Lynnarty on Deviantart)

❥General

I want to start by saying: I know almost nothing about Tourette's syndrome and don't know anybody who has it. If I get anything wrong, please please please correct me. I wanna get this right for you lovelies. Thank you <3

Now, what I do know about Tourette's, is that there are two types of tics: motor and phonic. I believe Toby has more motor tics than phonic. I know he's portrayed as stuttering and twitching/moving rapidly at the same time, but I don't think he has as many phonic tics as we think

I do however, think he has a natural stutter. He was bullied in grade school, and as a fellow bullied child, I can confidently say that he developed the stutter then. I will die on this hill.

His personality is also not at all that of a child, who spends all his time screaming and laughing just for the hell of it. He's unhinged, yeah, but not in the oblivious child way. More of the sadistic way for very obvious reasons.

He's more so reserved, just kinda comes and goes. There will be points in time where he decides to be super obnoxious and fuck with other pastas in the mansion, but that's moreso purposely picking fights and intentionally being annoying than whatever the hell fanfic writers wrote in the early 2010's.

He does have bipolar disorder, so he'll lose his shit when he decides to fuck with people and they fuck with him back. It turns ugly really fast.

With his CIPA (Cognitive Insensitivity to Pain), obviously he cannot feel when he gets injured on missions, or if his motor tics cause him any pain. He won't really give a shit if he finds an injury, and won't really take any steps to go to Eyeless Jack either to get patched up. Either someone else will have to bring him, or Jack will have to hunt him down himself.

Speaking of Jack, he was able to fix up the left side of Toby's mouth when he came to the mansion. Fixing Toby's injury and Jeff's face were the first two things he did.

Toby still chews on his hands and the insides of his mouth, just out of habit or if he's stressed/upset about something.

He doesn't have a reaction to fire, really. He doesn't like dwelling on the past + he's ready to just keel over and die at any moment, so it doesn't really matter to him.

Being called "Ticci Toby" angers him to no end. You will die if you call him that, no exceptions.

• ───────────────── •

❥Romantic

Toby didn't really look for love after joining the mansion

Like I mentioned above, he's ready to die at any point, so he finds it kinda pointless to get a partner if he's just gonna die soon

He noticed when you joined the mansion, but he didn't actually say anything to you until you'd been there for some months. He doesn't particularly associate himself with people in the first place, let alone people he newly "meets."

He's not very friendly at first, but being nice to him even through his obnoxious moments and horrendous mood swings and even going so far as to try to help him (he won't let you in the moment but he'll reflect on it later), it'll get you in his good graces

Being blindingly nice won't just get you in romantic territory. If he sees you being an actual person around others while just being super nice with him, it's going to make him think you're not genuine.

Just be yourself around him. When he sees you treat him the same as the others (with genuine kindness and respect) and not like he's some freak, it'll get you brownie points.

Toby doesn't realize he's insecure and thinks it's normal to get super jealous super easily. His parents didn't have the best relationship and most internet media of relationships is toxic in itself, so you'll have to be the one to sit down with him and lay out your boundaries. Even then, he'll frequently cross them.

It's not because he doesn't respect you or love you. He does. Just sometimes he wants to move the relationship a little faster, or he's impatient and wants kisses when you're with the others, or he's just plain forgetful.

Again on the jealous point though, he's going to get very upset if you don't notice he's jealous. In his mind, it's very obvious. Eventually he'll get so upset that he yanks you away from the people, cusses them out, then storms off with you and slams every door he goes through for extra measure. He's then going to cry as he holds you, apologizing and saying he didn't mean it and he was just scared you were going to leave him.

He doesn't let you be with your other pasta friends without lurking in the background, watching yours and their every move. He loves you and just wants to make sure you're okay. Happily accepts you back into his arms when you're done.

The only time you'll be able to hang out with friends outside the mansion (without him watching you) is when Toby is away on missions. If you befriend the right pastas, they'll cover for you. If he's not away though, he's very likely going to be stalking you and your friends in the background.

Toby doesn't care if you give him PDA or not, he just wants to be near you and do what he wants in the moment. Once he realizes he has feelings for you, he's going to be clinging to your side.

Loves when you show him physical affection and attention without him asking.

He also loves when you involve him in things you like. He might not participate in it, but the fact that you thought of him makes him happy. His favorite thing is eating some snacks while cuddling on his bed and watching some show you love.

Toby by himself just kinda exists. Toby in a relationship with you just kinda exists, but he wants people to know that you only exist with him.

For obvious reasons, Toby is a fucked up individual, and a relationship with him will always be toxic in some aspect. Everyone in the pasta mansion is fucked up, and very few will have healthy relationships. Yes, we love the pastas anyway, but we cannot fix them, so just keep that in mind lovelies <3

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

[bisexual-horror-fan]

uhh i think this may have been asked before but do you think you could do anything with the Sinclairs for multi may? they just own my heart, soul, an brain.

Well of course you can have this Anon! Since you didn’t give me a prompt, which is fine, I went with one provided by @early20sfailingplenty, sweet Eri baby gave me the idea of a reader who sees Bo in particular being hurt and just fights back for him. It’s a really good idea! Plus a way to do some angsty, hurt, comfort sort of thing! That is important to me because I love Multi-May and I love showing all sides of polyamory, giving it depth and showing it isn’t just about the fucking. Like this piece, it’s also about killing for the killer, you know?

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.7K. Bo Sinclair And Vincent Sinlair And Lester Sinclair X GN! Reader. Poly!Hinge Sinclairs. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Comfort. Murder. Kidnapping. Stockholm Syndrome. Violence. Blood. Gore. Reader Is Hopelessly Devoted. Crying Reader. Hard Emotions.

—

Yes I Can.

—

You remember the day that you knew you’d do anything for any of them and that day was after you had been in Ambrose for exactly a month, you were sure by that point that you weren't going to die by their hands. 

Maybe that was ignorant, perhaps downright fucking stupid to think that but you did, some deeply held feeling that clings to you, as if it was bone deep and settling into your marrow, you were thoroughly steeped in the belief that you would be okay with them. You were more than okay honestly, you considered Ambrose your home, it was infinitely better than your old one, you were happy here, you felt shockingly free even considering the fact that you literally were not allowed to leave and still live. 

You never entertained the notion of a polyamorous relationship before them, but how were you meant to choose just one? It wasn’t fair, and all of them gave you different things, that was the beauty of the setup, hardwired into the whole very concept of it, trying to get everything out of one relationship and one person is unrealistic, with them you more than had all your needs met. 

Such a shift took more time to establish, Lester was the first and easiest, he really took to how kind you were, wanting to talk with him, spend time with him, genuinely get to know him. Times where you just sat with him and talked meant more than he thinks he could say, the easy physical affection and that you didn’t lean away from him or when he tried to touch him was huge, the fact you initiated contact just as much as he did was everything. 

Vincent came next because you were so into his art and honestly because you poured a ton of effort into cooking, the three of them frequently got so fucking busy that proper cleaning, care and good food fell by the wayside, but now with you here that was a thing of the past. Having actual good meals, not toaster waffles that were burnt on the outside but somehow still frozen on the inside, did wonders not just for his mood but his creative drive and overall well being. The times you would bring a steaming plate to him and tell him to stop working were the highlights of his days.

Bo had not yet been won over. No matter the sweet things you said, the things you did for him, and no not even as enthusiastically you gave into whatever game he wanted to play or offered yourself up, he wasn’t moved. If anything it made you try harder. You had gotten closer with him, sure, in the physical sense and he wasn’t quite as asshole-ish to you overall, which you took as a plus and that you would get him the rest of the way there with time. You weren’t in a rush, you had all the time in the world, didn’t you? 

You cared a ton about all of them and would do just about anything for them, you thought maybe if you proved that one day to all of them you could be a true equal and really earn your place in Ambrose. 

The idea struck you one day when some people rolled through Ambrose, you did as instructed, stayed out of the way. You didn't let yourself be seen and watched what happened, took in the view as the group of people met the fate that you almost had. 

The trio were all totally brutal, but you knew that when they killed your friends who didn’t survive like you had, still seeing it once more, against this group of strangers, fresh in your mind, it makes you scared. Not for your own life! God no, far from it, you were worried for them. Bo and Vincent and Lester were all very capable and had been doing this for a long time without issue, but what if the day comes where they are not so lucky? Everyone has an off day now and again. It was sweet, you were concerned, it was preventive, you took your new life here very seriously and you would make them see it eventually, no matter what, you’d show them. 

You approach Lester to try and make what you had in mind happen. He had just come back from his usual daily work out at the pit, it was afternoon, it was hot as hell but you were downwind and didn’t have to contend with the smell, thank God. You loved Lester but post pit he smelt awful, especially during the summer months. 

“Hiya Les!” You greet enthusiastically and his head jerks up, a smile spreading across his face, he says your name in kind and in greeting before asking, “How ya doin’?”

“Oh just fine, wanted to check in on you.” It was honest, and he said, “Ain’t that sweet of ya?” 

You came over and he pressed a kiss to your cheek that made you smile, “You want some lunch?”

“I’d love some. Back to the house?” He asks and you nod your head, “Mmhm, either way you gotta get washed up first.” 

He holds up his hands, smeared with dirt and God knows what else, “You’re right, s’ prolly best.” 

You start your walk back up to the house, you already made lunch earlier on, and you start the conversation you wanted to have along the way, “So I wanted to ask maybe a small favour.”

“A favour, huh?” He asks but the tone is still light as air and you say, “Yeah, you think that might be okay?”

“Ain’t illegal to ask but doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” He teases and you laugh, “True, alright, so I was thinking the other day and I was wondering if maybe you wouldn’t mind teaching me some uh, self defence skills?”

He laughs, “Self defence skills? What? You don’t trust all a’ us to look after ya?” He asks, his shoulder nudging yours and you roll your eyes in amused exasperation, “No, it’s not that, it’s more the opposite.”

“Tha opposite?” He inquires and you affirm, “Yeah, I wanna do my part, you know? What if some asshole gets the drop on you or Vin or Bo and I’m near enough to do something about it but don’t have the know how. I dunno if I could ever forgive myself.” 

He stops, his hands are on your shoulders, effectively stopping you as well and making you turn to face him, you are both in front of the house at this point as he asks, “Ya wanna protect us?”

You avert your gaze and nod, the admission is small yet heartfelt, “Yeah, I do.”

“So why are you comin’ to me?” He asks and you fire back with a shrug, “Why not?”

“Pffft, Iunno, Bo’s and Vincent are bigger than me, pretty tough an’ strong, going to them makes sense.” You cross your arms and assert, eyes still on the ground, “You make sense too! Especially for what I want-”

“An what do you want?” He asks and you finally meet his gaze again, “Help me with learning some knife skills?”

He laughed, his hand fell away and he turned and started up the steps. You rush after him, confused, “What’s so funny?” 

A look over his shoulder and he sighed, “You. Yer too much.”

“Why? Why am I too much?” You ask as you catch up with him as he opens the screen door, “Cuz you think I’d willingly give ya a knife? If Bo finds out? Shit, taint worth thinkin’ about.” 

“Lesterrrr, c’mon! Why not? I won’t do anything to any of you! I want to help you all!” You argued and you were both striding through the living room now, “An’ how do I know that? Could be all kindsa pretty talk till I hand it over and than whoops I’m stabbed and you run off-”

Your breath catches and you stop. He hears it, the small sniff, he turns in the doorway to the kitchen to see you stopped a few feet away, you say softly and apparently on the verge of tears, “I’d never do that to you. Any of you.” 

He groans, hat off, back of his hand wipes over his forehead and smears more dirt, he replaces it back onto his head and comes forward, “Don’ cry.”

You wipe at your eyes, you know Lester likes it when you cry, just not in this particular context, it wasn’t fun for him and made HIM feel bad more than anything positive. “M’ sorry, I know you don’t li-like when I do, I can’t help it though. I just love you all so much and I’m worried.” 

Your shoulders were still shuddering and he cursed before asking, “I know, I know ya love us. Just…You mean it? You won’t do nothin’ less absolutely necessary?”

A nod as you wipe at your eyes, breathing starting to even out, a deep inhale as you try to compose yourself and he says, “Alright but keep it quiet! I mean it, if Bo finds out he’ll-”

“I won’t say anything! It’ll be our secret, and I won’t do anything unless absolutely necessary.” You plead, repeating his exact words back and he says, “Aight. M’ trustin’ you. Don’ make me regret it.” 

“I won’t! Thank you Les! You won’t!” You throw your arms around him into a big hug and he laughs, “Fine, we can go over some stuff but first, lunch.”

“Yes, lunch.” You agree and soon you are in the kitchen, he washes up and you both eat, conversation on lighter things, and afterwards he did just as he said he would. You go back to his space and he shows you the knives he had countless times before and instructed you how to use them the most effectively.

“Now you can’t stab someone too hard, ya hear? You just gotta put your all into it, an’ go for it. Try for the throat if you can but if not the gut ain’t bad neither, you get it deep enough and reef it up an’ it’ll stop just about anyone.”

You listen with rapt attention, trying to absorb absolutely everything he said and after all that, he gifted you one that you could safely keep on your person at all times. You thanked him and tried not to cry for the second time that afternoon, at least this time the tears that threatened to spill over were happy ones. You told him you were going to treasure it always and assured him, you’d never use it on him or Bo or Vincent. 

“Ya better not, cuz if ya try I might just have to turn it back on you.” He teased but you could hear the edge undercutting it and you nodded, “I’d expect nothing less.” 

That wasn’t all of it, you made sure to watch whenever Vincent used those twin knives, really tried to focus on the brutality he displayed as well as the technique. You just hoped that you would never have to actually put the decently sized folding knife concealed on your person to actual use. 

As the days bled to weeks and turned to months you started to relax, you felt like maybe you were being silly, that your fears were unfounded. People would come to town and they would fall with minimal issue, life kept on going and you thought everything would be just fine as it always had been.

One day some more people came into town and you went about your regular routine, as you always did, made yourself scarce. You knew the safe areas you needed to keep to and where to avoid, during times like this you didn’t do much, hold up in your locked room and usually read a book. It wasn’t unusual to hear some sounds, some screams, some scuffle, it was natural, easy to tune out and you stopped getting so nervous as you used to. 

Tonight was different. It was loud, unbearably loud, more than you had ever heard previously. You did something you shouldn’t have, you peeked out your upstairs room window and gasped at what you saw. Bo, mid-scuffle with some guy and currently taking what looked like a terrible punch to the jaw, made him unbalanced and then, someone else was sneaking up behind him that he was clearly not aware of. You did what you definitely never, ever should do and that was, break one of the biggest rules, you got involved. You busted out of your room, you ran down the hall and the stairs were taken two at a time until you were coming out the front door, knife in hand and it wasn’t until Lester was shaking your shoulders that you came back to yourself. 

“What?” You ask and Lester repeats himself, “I said are you alright? You hurt?” 

You look up at him, brows furrowed and you ask, “Why would I be hurt?” 

“Cuz you’re covered in blood?” He sounded just as confused as you did and that is when you looked down and holy shit, yes you were. It all hit at once, you were sticky, a complete mess, gripping the knife in your hand so hard that your knuckles were aching, you felt sore but overall fine. 

“I guess I am.” You admit still dazed, you are in the kitchen of the house, you don’t know when you got from the outside back into here but you were now and you see Vincent working on patching up a pretty rough looking Bo. You were in a chair and Lester was crouched in front of you, “What happened?”

You think hard, you remember seeing the fight, Bo getting hurt, and someone else about to jump him, you remember running out to him and then the rest comes into focus.

You took out the knife from the waistband of your shorts and you tackled the person who had wrestled Bo’s shotgun from him, driving the knife right under their ribs as you did so. You crashed to the ground, landing on top of them, the force of the action causes the blade to go deeper still, you are pretty sure by the way they wheezed you punctured a lung. Blood pours from around the embedded blade and you sit up quickly, ripping out the knife, your fingers on your opposite are tangled in sweat soaked hair and you slam their head back onto the concrete with a wet sounded crack. 

They weren’t moving any longer. You let them go. You are heaving when you get up and turn to see the other person staring you down, your hands are coated with blood as well as it soaking into your shirt and smearing down your legs. The other person who punched Bo looked terrified and you didn’t waste time, you took them down in a similar fashion, that one ended with you also getting a pretty bad punch but with the other body below you with his throat slashed open. After you were sure neither were getting up you stayed next to Bo and the next thing you really remember is this, now, being in the kitchen with them.

You tell them, “They hurt Bo and I just…Had to do something.”

To say they were all shocked was an understatement. Bo got up, and Lester got out of the way, he was staring you down, a hand on his bandaged ribs and he said, “You were pretty sadistic back there.”

You almost waited for him to scold you, but that didn’t happen, “You really did that for me?”

A nod, nervous as you admit, “Yeah…Told you, I love you, all of you, don’t want anything bad to happen to any of you.”

“Seems you really do belong here. And maybe it’s the delirium talkin’ but, M’ feeling so generous that I won’t even ask where you got the knife.” You feel happy, you smile and ask, “So I did good?”

“Very good. It was stupid as all hell and risky but shit if you didn’t do it well.” That had to be one of the nicest things he has said to you so far. You feel nearly giddy and hold your arms out and ask, “Can I uhm…Have a hug?”  

He laughs, a shake of his head, “Well if you haven’t earned it by doin’ this then you never will.” 

“Not just you but uh…All of you? Please?” 

Vincent saunters up, a sign of, “I think we can manage it.”

Still blood soaked and sweaty, shaking and sore you are wrapped up in three sets of arms and you feel more at home than you ever have. 

[magicalrocketships]

First of all thank you so much for the deaged fics.

They both made my day and little Max is especially close to my heart 💙

I have some questions if you have the time?

Do they remember what has happened to them in their childhood up to the age they age down to and do they know their adult life?

What made Max go to Daniel when he aged down? Did he remember Daniel’s promise to take care of him or was it something else?

What is Max and Daniel’s favourite thing to do together when Max is small?

I have about a million more but I’ll stop there🤣

And again thank you thank thank you ☺️

Little Max is also very close to Daniel's heart, if that helps.

Some waffling thoughts under the cut :)

okay, so if you think back now to being seven, those memories are pretty fuzzy or have gaps or feel quite far away? That's what it's like to age up after being small. I guess some people might have very good memories for when they're little irl so might remember things better, but Max when he ages back up just remembers things in a gently fuzzy kind of a way. And it's the same going the other way. Like, baby Max asking for his cats isn't because he remembers being grown up and having cats, it's because he knows that when he's small and with Daniel, that they go and get his grown up cats and bring them to Daniel's and he gets to play with them. But also, he fuzzily knows of these people - Charles and Christian etc, they're not strangers, but he also doesn't know them, know them. And he knows that he's supposed to go to Daniel when he first gets small but he doesn't know him like he knows him as a grown up. (Of course, not being able to fully remember what it's like to be small and have Daniel love you/love him in return is very confusing/strange/weird for a grown up Max, SPOILER)

He remembers that he's supposed to! And I'm making it so that they still live in the same building so it's not that difficult. People are supposed to make contingency plans and have ICGS contacts in their phones (in case of going small) so they can ask someone for help but baby Max in particular is not really able to ask for support, which is why he goes to Daniel's place by himself like a very, very scared but really very brave tiny person. He also has it written on a little card, a little message from grown up Max to him. It's in English and Dutch.

Max doesn't like bedtime stories so they read his flag book together instead, and Daniel knows it upside down and back to front, so he tries to widen the collection to include another geography book and a different flag book. They also have some flag jigsaw puzzles and one of maps. Max likes to tell Daniel all about all the Pokemons and he also likes to look at pictures of grown up Max and Daniel and ask Daniel a lot of questions about if Max is happy in this picture or if Daniel is happy in this picture or if Daniel thinks that grown up Max would like him. Mostly Max likes to talk a lot and Daniel likes to indulge him.

[vale-isei]

While I'm feeling nostalgic and waiting for my brownie waffles to cool down (do NOT microwave brownie waffles for two minutes I am a professional idiot.)

The new Days Union fans have no idea what they missed out. Back in 2019, everything was peak and very very community-based. The OLD server was a hellhole of chaos and fun. Remember the late nights where operatives came on for like a millisecond and people freaked tf out? Remember that one phase where everyone was hellbent on making songs for the operatives? Remember the Arsenal game night with the operatives????? If you're a new fan, you were absolutely ROBBED of these experiences. It's like taking the candy store from the kid. I literally would not know who I am to this day without those chaotic experiences.

Since the fall of the old Days Union, I've been in and out of different fandoms. BUT LIKE. I always circle back to Days Union. It's like a comfort even though it's 99% dead now. I like the forever war, the compelling characters, the politics and all that shit.

But is it the same? No, absolutely not.

I think what made the Days Union so special for me was the community. Just a bunch of idiots conversing and talking about lore and freaking out when operatives come online. Also just the operatives actually existing. Lawl. Those two things made the Days Union special. Every interaction I've had was 90% positive.

Now, do I wish for the community to come back? Yes and no.

There were obviously some really bad people in the community (AND NOT JUST THE OPERATIVES' ADMIN STUFFS). I wouldn't want to regather the old community. Instead, just make a new community out of the current survivors who now have actual brain cells. Survivors who are grateful for just a sliver of Days Union content. Survivors who won't be weird. Y'know?

Anyway my brownie waffle is finally cooled down. Have a lovely day! 😭👍

[grey-sides]

Hi! Not sure if you’re still taking prompts, but I’d love to read about billy and steve post-starcourt, but with the pretext of them having broken up for some reason before the whole mindflayer business, and how they deal with the aftermath! (Or post-s4 too! Up to you!)

Hi! Another ancient anon, I am so sorry. I hope this satisfies you. Billy is present physically, but not speaking because we're just not there yet. Enjoy!

(Post S3, Billy survives)

They had broken up at the beginning of the summer, after only a couple of months of whirlwind romance. Steve had waffled about meeting a girl to settle down with, and Billy had insisted that he was California bound as soon as possible.

So the best thing and the worst thing had ended. And Steve was okay to see it go.

Of course, it's not easy breaking up with someone. Even when you feel justified, Steve still thinks of him. Of nights slowly warming up and potential just beginning. Of what going to California together might have looked like.

But there was also the arguments, the fights back and forth about something or someone else. So he doesn't miss that part.

But he does miss Billy. A lot. Often. It makes flirting with girls hard. It makes planning for a future hard. It makes it all...hard.

And despite a month and a handful of change of days in between their breakup and now, it's not easier. Steve finds himself wondering if it will ever get any easier.

It is easier to forget in the basement of Starcourt. Kind of. Not as easy when he's waiting for the end to come and he's thinking about how he never told Billy that he was just waiting for permission to make it into something more.

That girls were nice and marriage was a dream, but his dreams could change, they had before. He would have followed. Or he would have lead. He just wanted Billy's permission.

It's a damn miracle they make it out of the basement and back to society. Another miracle that he and Robin survive whatever the hell they were stabbed with.

Steve's feeling good, confident, ready to take on world when they get onto the second floor. Lucas has firecrackers and whoever is controlling the flesh monster he's heard bits and pieces about is going to be blown to bits when he gets through with them.

It's less of a miracle when Steve sees who it is. Wearing a tank top and jeans, looking like hell warmed over.

Billy.

The thought of his dreams. The person Steve would have taken to his grave, a piece of his heart, nestled up towards his soul.

Steve can't get his feet under him to look down at Billy on the first floor, carrying El. She's saying something to him which Steve can't hear over the roar of his heart and the roar of the people and the roar of the words he's never going to have the chance to say.

Billy does what he does best. He holds back the tide. Like the emotion Steve swore was swimming in his eyes, an ocean of feeling he could never really let go.

He falls and Steve watches. And the monster falls too and the world rights itself but it will never be right again.

The words he's never said are choking him up and Robin is ushering him away so they can be seen.

The ceiling is coming down, or maybe the floor is falling, Steve can't tell. And the parking lot doesn't feel stable when he steps out into it.

His chest is a cavernous hole, the size of the monster Billy controlled and held back.

Steve goes to the hospital and Robin holds his hand. Their group, all of them, are given a section in the emergency department to be looked over.

And while Steve's holding ice to his eye, he hears snatches of conversation between Joyce and a singed Hopper.

Something about a stretcher, emergency surgery, he was still breathing when they picked him up.

Steve remembers hearing that JFK was still breathing when he arrived at the hospital, but it didn't matter. He can't let himself hope.

When he gets discharged with a prescription for painkillers that he won't touch and a quiet house because his dad is away again. Steve waits to hear something.

It's Max who calls him. He doesn't know what she knows or if she's just making calls because she's Billy's closest family member.

"Unconscious, still, but...I guess they think he might wake up," Max says, voice raw from probably the twenty phonecalls she's made. "Fourth floor, trauma ward, room 421."

Steve almost snorts because Billy would probably find that funny. But he suppresses it, writes down the information on a half sheet of paper.

"Thank you," Steve says, clears his throat. "Thanks, Max."

"He can have two visitors at a time and there's no one there right now, so..." Max trails off and Steve knows what she wants.

"I'll head over soon."

When they hang up, Steve doesn't even change. He's wearing sweatpants, but he doesn't care when he grabs his car keys.

He drives just at the limit to the hospital and he's sure Hopper would give him a pass now after all that happened. But he stays safe, as safe as he can. So Billy is the only one who has to lay in a hospital bed.

He's not ghostly pale when Steve sees him. Maybe a little pale, but he looks alive and warm. Steve lingers in the doorway for a moment.

He knows they broke up. For a hundred reasons and Steve thinks all of them were stupid.

And he doesn't want to take Billy's choice from him, but he doesn't know what he would choose either. He doesn't even know if Billy is going to wake up.

So Steve takes a breath and picks up a chair. His face is still fucked up and his ribs hurt a bit when he does breathe deeply. But he's standing.

He takes a seat and reaches for one of Billy's hands. It's still warm and he brushes his thumb against the callouses on it.

"Hey," he murmurs. "I don't know if you can hear me or if you even want me here, but I'm going to be here. Sometimes. And I just- I miss you. And I still love you. I hope you wake up so we can figure this out."

Steve doesn't know if there is anything to figure out. If Billy won't want to touch their relationship with a ten-foot pole or not.

But Steve has seen real monsters and survived. He's beaten a demigorgon with a baseball bat. And now he's survived fucking Russians.

So he lets a little hope in and he opens his mouth to speak over the roar of the words still unsaid.