#and another part of me is worried that . its Not

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

[ukulelegodparent]

I mean, fascism is primarily derived from the Italian word fascio which was a term used for various workers' rights groups in 19th century Italy and was later co-opted by Mussolini in another classic fascist move: using leftist language to trick people into following them. Fascio does originally come from Latin Fasce but it seems to me like that was more a coincidence/correlation than anything else. It seems to me like it's mostly just that the Italian fascist party were the ones that coined the term that everyone uses for the ideology. And of course that term does have origins in Latin BC it's based on a native Italian word which all derive from Latin.

It could of course be that THEY later changed doctrine to say that that is totally from Latin and not from a term mostly associated with communists and workers' unions. Or they used that explanation to appeal more to rich donors and the other one to appeal to workers in a similar move to what the NSDAP did, stressing 'Nationalist' and 'German party' in front of middle and upper class audiences but focusing on 'Socialist' and 'workers' party' when the audience was lower class.

Which is not to say that these people didn't have a weird obsession with the Roman Empire. They did. Especially the fascist party in Italy but the Nazi party in Germany did too. Europe and whiteness as concepts were at this point engrained enough in the minds of Europeans with lore and everything that Ancient Greece and the Roman Empire were really anyone's game (this was also through various nationalist movements. ESPECIALLY the Greek nationalist movement really did a lot to cement Ancient Greece as a predecessor of modern Europe (and by extension the Roman Empire) to secure support in courts around Europe for their fight against the Ottoman Empire. And boy were they hard at work we got an entire architecture style and art movement out of it)

The nazi salute btw also was adapted from Italian fascists who did call it the Roman Salute, but I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to it as anything other than 'Hitlergruß' (Hitler salute) or 'Deutscher Gruß' (German salute, this one basically only appears in primary sources/in specific other cases where the term 'Hitlergruß' wouldn't be accurate BC Hitler wasn't really in the picture yet although in those cases the gesture is generally not part of the salute at all) in the context of the Nazis. When it was introduced in the NSDAP it even came with the explanation that a) it was totally super not adopted from the Italian fascists BC its use in the NSDAP supposedly already started in 1921 (which is about when the Italian fascist party started doing it as well) and b) even if it was adopted from them (which it's totally not trust me bro) it's totally 100% fine, don't worry about it. Because while the Nazis were obsessed with the Roman Empire it was also considered not German and therefore bad so a lot of things that came into Nazi doctrine via Mussolini's party were first washed in a puddle of weird almost neo-pagan 'Germanic' stuff along with a bit of weird new age medicine because this is deeply intense nationalism and the name of the game is 'you cannot ever under any circumstance admit that any other ethnic group/nation/'people' has ever done anything good enough for your 'people' to adopt it.'

Just in case anyone needs a history lesson:

The nazi salute IS the roman salute. Because. They specifically chose to use... the roman salute. To invoke the grandiose and history of the roman empire. Like. That was a specific choice they made when they were creating their empire. They didn't call it a nazi salute. THE NAZIS CALLED IT A ROMAN SALUTE.

They did not happen to create a salute that looks identical. They said "we like the roman salute because the romans created the idea of fascism, so we are going to use it." Fascism, if you didn't know, is derived from the ROMAN word for a symbol called the Fasces. It represents the ultimate power of a single leader over their subjects! I wonder why that would be really appealing for them as a symbol!

They were ALSO taking a little inspiration from us, Americans, because we were also using it in the early part of the 1900s!

Because Americans ALSO liked the whole "connection to the roman empire" part! If you think white people NOW have a boner for the roman empire, you should have seen them a century ago!

Americans, understandably, stopped using it, because we got in a war with the only other people who were using it more than we were and were creating some real fucked-up associations with it: THE NAZIS.

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hello hello :3

I'm not sure if you take platonic requests so if you get to mine and you don't, pls lmk <3

Anyway. I would like to request platonic Boothill, Sampo, Mydei (if you can't write him yet then it's okay) and the Astral Express crew (you can leave out characters if it's too much) with a reader who is a former slave like Aventurine but they escaped by force and now respond to certain gestures with violence. Think about it like a wounded animal you're trying to approach. They lash out, bite, scratch, attack, anything.

🌑hello dear welcome!! I do take platonic requests 🫡and you can request as many characters as you want just know the more there are the longer I'll take😅 also I love love this idea 👀👀

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Ooh he gets it

You can't exactly hurt him, given the metal body, but even if you try he won't hold it against you

The circumstances might not be the same but he undoubtedly became a different, not violent, man after what the IPC did to his planet

Plus being a galaxy ranger is a lonely existence by design

He respects your need to distance yourself from people

But I feel there's a nurturing side to Boothill he doesn't get to tap into very often

So there's a part of him that will try to comfort you? Relate to you? He doesn't know what he's doing himself but something in his heart breaks for you and pulls him towards you

One stubborn fella about helping you but quite sturdy, let's say he's the guy letting the dog bite him to get its anger out and know that he can be trusted 🥺

✦ 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐨 ✦

Menace I love him

Sampo is a con-man salesman - he wants to know everyone's secrets so that he can exploit them for his benefit

But there's some lines even he won't cross

He's got a soft heart somewhere in there (deep in there) so you can expect that he'll go easy on you when he comes to his scheming

Plus he knows how to calculate risk, so if messing with you is highly likely to get him fucked up, he won't try you... Too much

Another man whose life wasn't exactly easy (which is why he's the way he is) and with a soft spot for people with a similarly difficult past

I think he'd find his own way of showing companionship, implying that you can talk to him about stuff if you want (tho he won't blame you for thinking he's just trying to get to your secrets) and stuff like that. He'll just be very subtle about how honest he's being

Let's say he's the guy slowly leaving treats for the dog and pretending like he doesn't care if it likes him or not (he really does, he's incredibly intrigued)

✦ 𝐌𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐢 ✦

New character so bear with me

I feel like you're very similar in this way

He's got a heart of gold under all that aggression, specially when it comes to his people

He's just bad at expressing it in a gentle way😅

His childhood was... Traumatic to say the least, violence is all he knows

Another sturdy guy, he's literally immortal and seems to enjoy a good fight so hitting him in any way might just start a sparring session💀

If he doesn't know you, he wouldn't engage, he's got better things to worry about

But if he does, you might get to see a gentleness from him no one thought him capable of

He's a patient man but he genuinely wants to see you learn to live with your trauma like him

I don't think he's done healing, mind you, but you might be able to learn something from each other about living with your demons

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

So much father energy LORD

The way he just immediately takes Sunday under his wing? Guiding him gently and patiently? That's a dad right there

He's deeply altruistic so he will try to help you please don't fight it😭

He's canonically one of the strongest characters so don't worry about hurting him. The fact that you even had to live through what you did, hurts him much more

Gentle but insistent, is how I'd describe him

He will not give up on you no matter what and that is a promise

When and if you decide to open up, he's a great listener

But even if you don't, he'll be there always🫡 because he genuinely just wants to see you be happy

✦ 𝐇𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐤𝐨 ✦

A fearless woman if I ever saw one

On the express she mostly keeps to herself, y'know navigating

But she undoubtedly cares deeply about the team so if you're part of it (let's say you are) you're included in that sentiment

She's not exactly... Motherly, per say, but she does care. She's just a bit... Awkward about it?

The type to do things like invite you to have coffee with her (don't drink it), or offer to teach you about navigating and stuff like that, just try to make you feel included

Not the type to outright ask about what happened but will listen if you tell her and will not judge - she doesn't see anything wrong with the way you handled things (Sunday train flashbacks)

Knows you're capable of protecting yourself, but will become somewhat protective of you

Tries to avoid setting you off as much as possible, she can hold her own no problem but she'd feel terrible if she hurt you in some way

✦ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟕𝐭𝐡 ✦

Sunshine incarnate

Might come off as overly friendly upon first meeting so if that sets you off well... she'll learn her lesson... maybe

Doesn't remember her past so if you don't wanna talk about yours it's all good with her

But if you do, she's a surprisingly good listener

Tho if you decide to be rude or aggressive to push her away, she'll definitely take it to heart, at first

She'll mope about it for a bit before her determination takes over

She wants to be your friend damnit 😡

She'll call you out for being rude but stick around regardless

She's got thicker skin than expected and she's hard to shake off (like a puppy...) if she decides she wants to be your friend, that's what she's gonna do

Plus after that first time, being rude to push her away won't work, she'll just talk right over you

In the end, she might just win you over through sheer determination 😭

✦ 𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠 ✦

Oh he cares so much bless him

Dan Heng is extremely protective of those he's close to

If you're in the express, you're immediately included in that

Quiet comfort is his thing

Like sitting together quietly because you just need some company while he reads or even offering a game of chess as a distraction

Doesn't blame you for how you react, but if you become physically dangerous to be around he will be the first to restrain you

Just because he gets it doesn't mean he likes seeing the people around him get hurt

I feel like he's got some words of wisdom regarding how to make peace with your past

But beyond that he's good to have around because he doesn't push for answers at all

Nobody knew about his past when he came onto the express so he'd be kind of a hypocrite if he cared

It's inevitable that he becomes attached and when he does he becomes just as protective with you as with any other member of the express, regardless of your past

[sammyluvr]

✶ blabbermouth — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, talkative!reader, hurt/comfort, insecurity, unedited, 845 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : under a street lamp + “i’m right here, you know. i’m right here.”

sam pulls you to stand up with both hands. you’re not really sure why, and don’t notice that he’s pulled you under the orange light of a street lamp. he’d found you sitting on the curb in the dark, in the chilly almost-autumn air. and you haven’t gone far from the motel, but he’d still been worried when he got to the room and you weren’t there. he gets paranoid sometimes; he had burst out the front door. he nearly ran down the street until he saw your silhouette hunched over in a patch of darkness.

at first, he sat with you, but he hates not being able to see your face very well, so he gently pulls you up and into the light. it casts your face in warmth, and you look a little teary. he expected it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t send a pang through his chest. so before asking what’s wrong, he pulls you into a soft hug. you melt into him, but your shoulders retain some of their tension.

he parts, though his hands linger for a moment. “what is it?” he asks quietly. the bare skin of your arms are a bit cold to the touch. “you cold?”

you shake your head, “the wind is nice,” is all you can manage, followed but a stretch of quiet. a car rolls past, no music or voices floating out of the cracked window. there’s just the sound of tires on the road as your eyes leave him to follow its movement until you can’t crane your neck any further. then you’re forced to look back at him, knowing you haven’t answered his first question.

“sam… do i talk too much?” you ask, voice quiet for once and undeniably insecure. you hate the way it sounds, but you can’t bear to take up much space right now.

“mm?” he almost calls you babe, but catches himself at the last moment, “what are you talking about? of course you don’t. you don’t talk too much at all.”

you’re not convinced, unfortunately. he knows so by the way you don’t meet his eyes. “i just feel like… i feel like people get annoyed. and– dammit,” you curse under your breath, probably the only one bothered by your apparent inability to keep your mouth shut. you have this silly urge to come across as composed, maybe even a little mysterious for a bit of intrigue. but it never works, and you’re just always talking. even now, you can’t stop yourself from telling sam exactly what you’re feeling. “and– and sometimes it makes me worried that people won’t want to be around me because of it. i mean, no one likes a blabbermouth. even now i can’t seem to shut up.” your voice grows frustrated, almost aggressive at yourself. you wish you could keep it down, but you can’t even manage that.

“hey,” he quickly interrupts before you can say anything else self-deprecating, “don’t say that,” he says firmly, tilting his head to try and get you to look at him. “you’re not a blabbermouth, alright? and there’s nothing wrong with talking a lot. no one wants you to shut up, so don’t say that.”

“dean does,” you mutter bitterly. his hand twitches, as if trying to seek out yours to hold it tight. he frowns, so you explain, “dean gets annoyed. i know that he thinks i talk too much sometimes.”

“it doesn’t matter what dean thinks,” sam insists, “he’s an ass, you know that. doesn’t mean he wants you to stop talking.” he doesn’t even like saying the words ‘shut up’ in reference to you.

you frown back at him. “it matters to me,” you stress, “and what about bobby? and–”

he cuts you off with another gentle, imploring, “hey. i’m right here, you know. i’m right here.” that finally gets you to look him in the eye. you’re looking at him like you’re not sure what he means, but that you’re hoping for something. so he keeps going. “doesn’t it matter what i think about it?” he asks at a murmur, “i like how much you talk. i like– i like to listen to you. i don’t want you to stop. you could never annoy me and you could never do anything to make me not want to be around you.”

you eyes widen at his words. why does he have to say it like that? like he loves you, maybe. not just like he thinks you’re a great friend, and he wants to comfort and reassure you because of that. you struggle to respond. 

he notices and his hand drifts up towards your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “okay?” he murmurs.

to that, you can nod, the movement a bit halting and your eyes still teary. it means a lot to hear those words, but it means everything to hear them from him. “okay,” you whisper back.

“good.” he pulls you back into his arms, and presses a gentle, but firm kiss to the side of your head.

[kneazle]

More of the tsunami fic! Probably the weakest part (in my opinion) but I believe we're coming to a close with this soon maybe one more part? 😊 again thank you to everyone whose shown this love, I appreciate it more than you can imagine 💕

Tags are under the cut but let me know if you want to be removed! (hopefully I didn't miss any of you that wanted to be added!)

part 1 • part 2

Tommy breathed heavily, cold seeping into his bones while his skin broke out in a sweat. It was an odd feeling, and one that didn't bode well for him. 

He didn't know how long passed since he lifted them onto the platform. His leg throbbed when there wasn't pain shooting up it, but he could do no more than he already had at the moment, having used his plaid button-up to stop himself from bleeding out like he was. There's no telling if it would hold, but it was something until he could get Jee to safety.

Tommy glanced down at where she was curled into his side and his heart clenched.

He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes for a brief moment. 

Please just let her be okay, please

The air was tense in the engine on the way to the pier. Worried glances were thrown his and Chimney's way but Buck avoided meeting those gazes.

They were on their way back from a quick call when it came in about the tsunami, everyone holding their breaths at the thought of another one. Buck felt their eyes on him and had grinned sadly, a weak joke about at least he wasn't there this time but not fully meaning it as another tsunami meant people hurt, lives lost. 

Until Chimney made a strangled noise from his seat. Choking out that Jee was at the pier with Tommy. That Tommy volunteered to watch her when Maddie got called in for a shift and their normal babysitter couldn't, and was planning on taking her there.

Buck's chest felt empty and constricting at the same time as Chimney spoke on the phone with Maddie for a few seconds. His worry burrowing inside, steadily growing at the sound of their voices. He didn't say a word but shared a look with Chim– yet what right did he have when this was their child? Bile rose in his throat that he pushed down, hands clenching. Jee and Tommy were god knows where and in what state, but Buck would do anything to trade places with them at this moment.

"Uncle Tommy Uncle Tommy!"

Tommy's eyes shot open, blinking rapidly at Jee's shouting and shoves. Fuck. He internally cursed at himself for not staying focused, having felt drowsy– no doubt an infection but there was no time to think more on it.

"Look!" 

He sucked in a breath. A boy of about seven or eight was coming their way yelling and crying for help, holding onto a board that was barely keeping him afloat. Tommy saw this little boy with soaked curls, wet black glasses that slid down his nose– and Tommy turned to Jee, "Stay right there Jee don't move!" He told her quickly.

Tommy jumped back into the water and grunted against the pain as he swam out enough, grabbing for the boy as soon as he was in reach. 

He didn't hesitate to cling to Tommy who held the young boy to him. "I got you buddy, I got you, hang on alright?"

Relief slammed into him so hard when they were all on the platform and Jee didn't move an inch, that Tommy let a tear escape mixing with the wetness of the water. Fear clawed its way in his chest.

"Thank you!" The boy coughed out, body giving a big shiver as his lower lip trembled.

"What's your name kid?" Tommy asked softly. "I'm Tommy and this is my best buddy Jee."

He rubbed at his nose, wiping water from his eyes. "D-Danny."

"Alright Danny, can I know who you came here with?" 

"My b-big brother, he- he got pulled away." Danny whimpered, and Tommy could have cried the way Jee scooted closer, her little hand coming to hold Danny's slightly bigger one.

Tommy wrapped two terrified children in his hold, trying to stay awake and focused on them and not the feeling of his body fighting for sleep with the piercing throbbing pain spreading through him.

Fear wasn't new to him– but this was an entirely new kind of fear he realized.

@not-as-straight-as-i-appear @todd-harper @klutzygirl @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @comfortingevanbuckley @laundryandtaxesworld @tommykinard @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @mmso-notlikethat @iphyslitterator @racerchix21 @a-mel0n @station18908 @beckym2001 @bi-bi-buckleys @loulou-land @tommykinard6 @beanarie @fuselsstuff @chococara25 @owlgirl495 @thestrangestthlng @buckleyskinards @nznaturalkiwi @daughterofscotland @livelaughlou @hyperfocusthusly @teabroomsandbooks @thecarrott @tistai

[imujings]

hoshi + work song by hozier? :)

when i was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet in the low lamp light i was free

wc <1k. warnings FLUFF!!!, suggestive (they make out at the end. sorry. i’m normal), lots of kissing, hella praise (someone needs to tell soonyoung he’s doing good RIGHT NOW!!). jay’s musings i am so weak for soft sy + this song makes me go ABSOLUTELY FERAL .°(ಗдಗ。)°. you are so right anon. speak ur truth

The lighting in the room is dim, cozy. It’s well into the morning, sunlight streaming faintly through the curtained windows and finding home atop your bedsheets.

You press a long, soft kiss to Soonyoung’s bare shoulder. He’s been murmuring in his sleep for quite awhile now, shifting around like he’s trying to escape some paranormal entity unbeknownst to you. Your fingers inch under the covers and find his.

“Love,” you hum into his skin.

The man shivers at your touch, jolting awake with a gasp. His hair sticks up in all kinds of directions, unkempt from sleep, and you smooth a hand through it. Soonyoung leans into your fingers with an achingly gentle sigh.

“Nightmare again?” you tilt your head in a question.

He nods, eyes fluttering shut when you run a thumb across his cheek. You trace the knot in his eyebrows with your gaze, all the way down to the slope of his collarbone, exposed and vulnerable.

“I can’t remember much of it now,” Soonyoung confesses. “But it felt like I had this big weight on my shoulders—metaphorically, that is. There was so much guilt it was overwhelming. Like I couldn’t breathe, almost. I was in front of you, and you were looking at me, waiting for me to speak, and… I remember feeling terrified. Of what you would think of me if I told you about what I did.”

While you’re listening, your thumb on his cheek never pauses in its soft, methodical swipes along his skin. The barren sunlight leaves him dappled in a honeying glow.

Your heartbeat pounds loud in your ears, your mind taking action to bring his attention to just how much you yearn for him through a steady rhythm of love—if for nothing else but to soothe his worries.

To reiterate your thoughts, you pull him in, letting your arms lay loose around his neck. Your foreheads rest against the other’s.

“Soonyoung,” you whisper, lips brushing his.

His eyes flicker between your soft, melting gaze and the way your mouth curls to enunciate his name. His own lips are parted, waiting, and you’re eager to give, dipping in to steal a kiss.

“You could never,” you kiss him again and he chases your lips. “Never, ever ever, even try to get me to hate you.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Soonyoung says brokenly. “How could you say that?”

Another kiss—one that’s unhurried, searing with want. Your lips travel to the corner of his mouth and down to his jawline. He whimpers at your nibbling.

“You act as if we are made to be perfect,” is your hushed reply, pressing an open-mouth kiss to underside of his jaw. “You’re talking as if being loved and being perfect are synonyms. As if they mean the same thing.”

“In reality, they simply coexist together. Their relationship is more of a simultaneous thing; you are loved, and at the same time, you are perfect just the way you are. Did you know, I love you? I love you, in your entirety—all your sins, all your fears. I love you because they make you, you. Your hatred, your pain, your burdens—are they not just feelings that coexist with the love inside of you? I love you because you are whole and filled with emotions. I love you because you are love.”

There’s a pause, and you draw your face back up to his level again. Soonyoung is staring at you, eyes glassy and lips wobbling.

You’re wondering if you’ve gone too far with your nonsensical ramblings when he kisses you, and all air is knocked out of your lungs.

“Thank you,” he sobs, and you taste the saltiness of his tears as his lips press against yours, frantic, needy.

His hands are in a frenzy, gripping your bare skin like you’ll disappear at any moment. You whine at his touch, passion overtaking you as your fingers wrap themselves in his locks of hair. The man moans when you tug, and the noise sounds so melodic it has you tearing up yourself.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Soonyoung murmurs; you can’t tell what tears belong to who anymore, but you don’t think it matters when you’re this tangled up in each other.

“You are love, too. My love. You are my freedom—my life, my eternity. Thank you.”

wanna queue a song?

[my-mind-mansion]

A slow, peaceful morning in bed with the Radio Demon

(Alastor x reader/cuddles/motivation/care)

{Since my bedtime fic got a few likes, I wanted to post it’s sister story. Hope you all enjoy my imagination!! Requests/story ideas??}

It was about an hour before you had to be up for the day and you were sound asleep in Alastor’s bed. He had let you sleep in his room last night. You were honored. You felt a hand in your hair, gently petting you. You could feel yourself waking up, leaving your dream realm to be met with Alastor’s kind smile. You gasped and nearly panicked. “Oh no!! Am I late?!“ you started to sit up.

Alastor gently pushed you back down on the pillow. “Shhh.. there’s no need to worry, my dear. I made sure you were awake in plenty of time. You can relax for a bit in my bed before you actually have to get up.” He said as you caught your breath from the adrenaline rush of thinking you were late.

He chuckled softly, inching closer to you and pulling you into his chest. He put a hand in your hair and his other hand on your back. “Give yourself a deep breath for me, dearest.” He said, his radio-filtered voice bringing you the warmest sense of comfort. You took a deep breath and then a peaceful exhale. That felt good. Your heart calmed as he rubbed your back.

You smiled up at him as your body was nearly limp in his arms already. He smiled down at you, speaking soft sentences to soothe your soul. “Good morning, sweetheart. I trust you slept well!” Your heavy eyelids, still fresh with sleep, were fighting to stay open. He chuckled under his breath as he played with your hair, encouraging you to take another deep breath.

You were so relaxed in his arms. You were basically drunk on him. The radio host had you under his spell as you clung onto every word he spoke. “I once read a story about a flower that blossomed and thrived, despite its poor environment. It rarely got watered and it’s pot was way too small. The poor bud was neglected and abused, but somehow the lovely bloom persisted on.” he rubbed your back.

You had been smiling up at him. He was so charming and knew how to evoke whatever reaction he was seeking. He continued on. “That flower is you, my dear. Despite all your troubles and heartache, you continue on. I’m so proud of you. You are so important to me. I wouldn’t let anyone else sleep in my bed, you know.” You blushed slightly as you nodded off, teetering between sleep and wake. Alastor chuckled as he noticed. “It’s alright, my delicate rose. Close your eyes. You have time.”

You had immediately fallen back asleep in his arms; all part of his plan. He had given you 30 minutes to go back to sleep after waking up. Those 30 minutes felt more like 4 more hours. When he roused you awake for the second time this morning, you smiled and sat up. You were feeling refreshed and relaxed.

You stretched and dangled your feet over the edge of the bed, smiling back at him. “Ready to finish that to-do list?” he asked rhetorically, cheering you on. How out of character for Alastor to actually be supportive and encouraging. He snapped his fingers and your favorite breakfast appeared on a tray next to you.

You weren’t sure if Alastor was giving you this special treatment in order to manipulate you, or if he had ulterior motives. All you knew was you were really enjoying the attention, and didn’t care if he didn’t actually mean it.

He set out your clothes and shoes for the day as you ate the personalized breakfast he had made according to your taste. “You.. really don’t have to do all of this for me.” You said, slightly flustered as he knew the exact outfit you wanted to wear today. “I know. I only aim to make your life easier, dear. It’s my own personal responsibility to care for you.” He said. Slightly concerning, but oddly sweet?

[juunipupu]

Hi!!! I came across your art on pinterest and thought it was the coolest thing ever. I’m a young artist slowly working towards making a graphic novels about my ocs! I’m sure the road to where you are now has been tricky, so I gotta ask…what’s the best advice you could give to artists trying to make ends meet? Is pursuing art as a career as cool as it sounds? Thank you so much for inspiring my work, hope you take care!! ^_^

Hello there and thank you for the kind message. It’s always great to see new talent working on their passion projects!    I’m not sure I’m the best person to give advice on the matter, however, as I don’t work as a full-time artist! While from one perspective social media shares and likes give an idea of certain level of success, it’s not what translates into mundane living – at least not in my case. I’m a student, part-time worker, and do art on the side as a treat. On top of that, never been hired in the field beside odd freelance gigs.    This is not to say art as a career isn’t cool. It is ��� just depends on how you wish to do it and what you consider cool. For me, I need another job beside art to make ends meet, but also to prevent art block and burnouts. On the other hand, this gives me more freedom to draw my oc art and take projects that inspire me!     I guess in nutshell my advice would be to not worry too much about making it big one way – life often doesn’t go that way, but art still finds its way to be made! The freedom of creating what makes you truly happy is the best feeling I can think of, and I strive to mold my life around that.     I’ve had fun sharing my doodles in these asks and  as a fellow oc enjoyer I’ll slide one of mine here as well – Tiberia, who’s part of the campaign in which Wreg is! I hope you also keep creating your oc art and enjoy it to the fullest <3

[kyoshitargaryen]

a neurodivergent breakdown of the 3D and 4D for manifesting + shifting

key: 3D — the physical world, what you experience in your current reality, intrusive thoughts, emotions ; 4D — imagination, visualization / affirmation for manifestations and desired realities, intentional thoughts, beliefs

table of contents — brief explanation of 3D and 4D – living in the 4D – on belief (and believing even when you don't believe) – decentring the 3D – participating in the 3D

for the longest time, I couldn't grasp how to participate in the 3D without feeling as though I was invalidating or preventing my manifestations. I'm not gonna lie, this was most likely my autism skewing my view.

I naturally have a very black-and-white, rigid way of thinking. many neurodivergent people do, and if you're one of us, or maybe you need a little confirmation that what you're doing is right, stick around for an easy (or easier?) to grasp explanation.

brief explanation of the 3D and 4D

the 3D and the 4D are intimately tied together, with the 3D being a dependent variable and the 4D being an independent one

dependent variable — a variable (denoted by y) whose value is determined by that of another independent variable — a variable (denoted by x) whose value is being changed on its own, not by the influence of another variable

in other words, the 4D is the cause, and the 3D is the effect. if you follow the law of assumption and neville goddard, you've likely heard the quote "consciousness is the only reality." as in, the things we pay attention to, shape our reality. neville goddard says that our reality — the people we interact with, the things we experience, the opportunities given to us — are directly tied to and mirror our subconscious.

living in the 4D

just like a knot can be tied, our reality can be both made and unmade. the 3D is pliable and moldable. in order to do so, we must live in the 4D, as in, live in imagination.

living in imagination isn't simply daydreaming about what you wish to manifest, it's about actively embodying the perception of already having your desire.

if I were to want to manifest being an incredible singer, I would act as though I were, even if in reality my singing could break eardrums. I would sing my favourite songs without worrying about whether or not I was good, because I already know that I am great.

since the 4D directly causes change to the 3D, it is what we do and believe in imagination that will be reflected in reality. what we believe is what we get. if I were to be insecure and believe that I were a terrible singer, the 3D would show me that I was a terrible singer.

living in the 4D means we cannot focus on getting our desire in the 3D, as that would be pedestaling the 3D and grounding yourself in it. just like you cannot centre men in your life as a woman for the sake of your emotional health and self-esteem, you cannot centre the 3D for the sake of your manifestations.

on belief + believing even when you don't believe

this was a really difficult concept for me to grasp. how can I believe in something when I know it's not true? how can I fake a belief?

it's actually terribly easy to. the first step to believing when you don't believe is persistence.

have you ever had an ironic inside joke with your friends, or just did something ironically? I guarantee you, over time it became a natural part of your life, your vocabulary, your mannerisms. that's because your subconscious doesn't know when you're kidding. your subconscious is probably more autistic than you are, in that it will take what you say or do at face value and apply it to your personality. (really makes you think about how often self-deprecating jokes aligns with poor mental health, huh?)

that's why persistence is key. even if at first you don't believe, continue to enforce the idea that you do until it actually manifests within your mind.

decentring the 3D

I came up with this idea after hearing about the feminist concept of decentring men.

what is decentring men?

the concept of decentring men is to turn away from patriarchal and male-centric perspectives and beliefs, instead turning inward and focusing on your own wants, wishes, desires, and needs. instead of looking for validation through men or other social means, you simply validate yourself. where you may have valued the social norm or others, you instead place yourself at the centre of your own life.

how can we decentre the 3D?

just like the patriarchy has taught us to seek validation from external factors like men, the world has taught us to find validation in what is right in front of us — the 3D.

like decentring men, we must learn how to find satisfaction and validation in the 4D instead of seeking instant gratification from the 3D. there are many ways to do this, including;

understanding that you are in fact in your DR / already have your manifestations

it's agreed that time is not linear, it is simply that our brain processes it as such. even if you do not personally believe in shifting or the multiverse, it has been widely agreed that time moves in all directions, not just forward. by that reasoning, you already have your desire, and you're already in your desired reality, because events exist even when our brains have not yet processed them.

take the 3D as though it were someone doubting you

have you ever expressed a dream, desire, aspiration to someone, only to be told you could never do it or it's not possible? think of the 3D as being the same way. what do you do then?

prove them wrong. brush it off your shoulders. read my post about how to do this here.

Schrödinger's Cat — understanding that you are in your DR until you allow yourself to view otherwise

Schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment that boils down to the fact that we cannot guarantee an outcome if we do not experience it, i.e. a quantum superposition, which is the principal that something can exist or be represented by multiple values (or outcomes).

the cat is both alive and dead on a quantum level, until we observe an outcome. a path has not yet been carved until we align ourselves to one. you may benefit from my post on the butterfly effect and how it validates shifting and infinite realities, which you can read here.

close your eyes. you are both in your desired reality and your original reality until you prove to yourself otherwise, as in, opening your eyes. at the same time, thanks to infinite realities, you are both in your desired reality, your original reality, and infinite more until you choose to become aware of one singular reality.

when you choose to shift, you are in your desired reality until you allow yourself to come back to your original reality, by quitting. lean into that knowledge — allow yourself to truly feel that when you visualize, affirm, or try to shift to your DR, you are genuinely there. find validation and satisfaction in that. allow yourself to say I shifted whenever you do those things.

as to how you can let yourself say you've shifted when in terms of the 3D, you haven't — that's what the next section is all about.

participating in the 3D

how can we live in the 4D, find satisfaction in the 4D, all without abandoning the 3D? how can we participate in the 3D without forsaking our manifestations?

have you ever been in a situation where you know something, but the other person doesn't know that you know it? let's say you want to hear this person's unfiltered perspective, without justifications or explanations, to see what they add or leave out. you may act shocked to find out information you already knew, angry on their behalf when you know it is them who is actually in the wrong, or confused when you actually aren't.

do exactly that with the 3D, treat it like you would a lying friend or boyfriend when you want to collect all information. you can still be honest about the events in the 3D and your experience with them while also not letting them influence your internal world and 4D.

you don't and shouldn't post success stories publicly if you haven't done them in the 3D, but you can absolutely allow yourself such within your own mind. keep 3D events in the 3D, and keep 4D events in the 4D.

in the 3D, I'm an awful singer and will admit so, but within the 4D and my own mind, I am brilliant and beautiful.

living in the 4D doesn't mean to lie, it just means to compartmentalize your actions in the 3D and the 4D into separate boxes. this includes allowing yourself to feel emotions like frustration, sadness, doubt. let yourself feel them, let them pass, and then realign with your manifestations.

treat the 3D as though it were friend group one, where you act one way, and treat the 4D as if it were friend group two, where you act a different way.

treat your 4D self as though it were the 3D's child, and your 3D self as though it were the 4D's parent. you wouldn't want your child to see you sad, angry, or scared. you wouldn't want your child to see you feeling like things were out of control or not guaranteed. you would instead excuse yourself to a private moment, feel everything you need to in your own presence, and then return to your child more assured. make your child feel as though its dreams are guaranteed and already there. preserve your child's joy, belief, and innocence. do all of that for the 4D.

that's all for now! I hope this helps you all as much as it has helped me

yoshi!!

[obsidianpen]

After reading No Glory and Hauntingly, it's hard to enjoy hetero romance, and it's not just because your way of writing is elite; there could be so many reasons that I went hardcore m/m and f/f shipper. Like, I am dead serious when I say my favorite telenovela pairing is Luisa x Rose from Jane the Virgin. So, I am really, really excited for your original work, and even more stoked that you decided it to be an m/m pair. But yeah, would love to know why you decided that?

you know, it was an interesting thought process that involved a lot of self reflecting. There’s definitely controversy around women writing gay male romance. Most of it is, I think, bullshit, and the arguments such as ‘its fetishizing’ are way off base (no, that would be male directors and producers creating plotless w/w porn, imo). But it was a Big Question: why should I, J…Jamie (lmao I’m almost more OP than myself anymore when I’m online) write a story with a bi male lead, when I’m a female (I love writing bis okay we need more of us!!) ? The reason I like writing Harry/Tom has everything to do with their dynamic and roles in the canon, and nothing to do with the gender. Id ship them regardless. In fact I probably would have realized I shipped them sooner if it was f/m; I was just too young at the time to realize that’s what I was rooting for because I was a bit sheltered in that regard.

anyway - so yeah, why am I still interested in m/m outside of fanfiction? I asked myself, staring at the mirror. So I wrote a little bit out of this original idea, one version as a female lead and once as a male, and you know, it was a pretty interesting exercise. When I was writing a male protagonist, I was… calm? Idk, I didn’t overthink him. I knew who he was and I just wrote what he did and what he thought. But when I was writing a the female version, my anxiety was so much higher! I found myself agonizing over every bit of her personality, worrying if people would find her ‘too this’ or ‘too that’, too predictable, too pretty, not pretty enough, too tough, too weak, etc etc. I felt like no matter who I made her, people would be upset and fucking hate her. And then I realized, oh. This is probably why so many women authors like writing male leads. Because that agonizing feeling, that’s how it is to be a woman, all the time. And it’s so relieving to get to leave that behind when writing a male lead. Maybe this is all deeply problematic on my part, I’m not sure. Internalized misogyny? I don’t think so, just the bleak reality. But yes I likely have issues lmaaao

Another reason was simply that the last original work I wrote has a female lead, so I thought I’d switch it up again. Writing an m/m story is what got me into writing in the first place, so it feels weirdly like have to acknowledge that in new projects I take seriously, too?

and to acknowledge that story I already wrote with the female lead - Starlings - I agonized quite a bit less over her, and in hindsight, I think it’s because she’s a child. She goes through puberty during the story, surrounded by older women, and there are almost no men in the whole thing, so the dynamic is totally different. It’s not big on the romance, either, which also helps. So yeah. No anxiety there. But with a grown ass woman in a story that’s centered quite a bit around a super problematic romance? Anxiety. Anxiety for days. I also feel this anxiety when I write Hermione, btw.

there will definitely be a different kind of worrying writing this new original thing, though - writing a gay magical romance set in southern 1920s America is gonna require a TON of research, and I’m not taking that lightly. But that worrying isn’t nearly as personal, which makes a lot of difference.

I’m interesting in other people’s opinions on this! So please share if you’re willing. 🌸

[suugarbabe]

mattheo riddle x reader

yap turned fic @musingsofahufflepuff <3

angsty, possibly another part will be added to it, who knows really.

Paired giggling across the common room had your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time. "Could they not do that somewhere else?" you tried to hide the venom in your voice, but Enzo could see right through it. "Careful, babes. Your green monster is showing its bits," he swats your hand away with a giggle as you go to hit him.

"I am not jealous," You crossed your arms with a scowl on your face. Enzo trapped his bottom lip between his teeth to hide his smile, "Yeah? Enlighten me then, what's so irritating about Mattheo and his new girlfriend."

You stared at Mattheo and the bimbo practically hanging on him. Didn't she have her own side of the couch she could occupy? you thought. You sat up straighter on the sofa, trying your best to configure a look that appeared more concerning than irritated. "He's just different when he's around her. Like someone I don't know."

Enzo's attention was peaked now, turning towards you to give you his full attention, "Oh pray tell, darling. Do give me more." You mirrored his position, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. "It's almost like he's regressing mentally around her. Its...frustrating. When he's messing around with us he's goofy. He banters, makes jokes with us that are actually funny. With us he talks about things he actually likes, he even appears brighter overall."

"And with Katherine?" Enzo raised his eyes as you mimicked a gagging sound, "Enz, please. Not her name." He couldn't stifle his laugh this time, "So sorry. Ahem...and with her?"

You smiled at his correction, "With her it's like his brain is turned off and she's replaced it with sludge." Enzo's laugh was boisterous, earning the looks of everyone in the common room, including Mattheo and his new dumb doll.

Mattheo was staring right at you, his head tilting in curiosity before Katherine grabbed hold of his chin to face her again with a sickening grin. You shoved Enzo successfully this time, him toppling over and catching himself on the armrest of the sofa, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. S'not my fault you're funny, babes."

You rolled your eyes, "Did you see how she just redirected his attention like..like.." Enzo nodded slowly, "Like his...girlfriend?" You threw your hands up in the air as you slid slightly down the sofa, "Don't say it likes it's so permanent."

"Like what's so permanent?" In the midst of your complaining discussion, Mattheo and his new shadow had made their way over to the both of you with her interrupting your conversation. "Oh, funny you should ask, we were just talking about y- fucking merlin, that hurt!" your elbow dug itself harshly into Enzo's ribs before he could say anything to incriminating.

You put on a sacchariferous smile, "Oh nothing you have to worry that empty head of yours about, sweetheart." Katherine tilted her head like a confused dog; Mattheo's eyes turned dark, "Why are you being such cunt?"

Immediately you were on your feet, "A cunt? I'm being a cunt? Fucking Salazar's sake, Matty, she's really turned you in to a right git, huh." Mattheo scoffed, "I'm a git? Oh that's rich, babes. Truly."

Katherine pulled on Mattheo's sleeve, "C'mon 'Teo, just leave it." You couldn't contain your laughter, "Teo?! Merlin, your little Gryffindor's really sunk her claws in deep and it's only been a few weeks." Mattheo took a step toward you, causing Enzo to step in-between, "Please, do we really have to do this right now?"

A hand on Mattheo's chest, her hand, pushed him back as she turned to look at you, "Jealously is a really ugly look for you, you know." You wen't to push around Enzo, him wrapping an arm around your middle to stop you from moving towards them, "Hey, you're no oil painting yourself!"

Enzo gave you a slight push back down onto the sofa, holding his hand out in front of you until Mattheo and his girlfriend disappeared towards the common rooms. Once they were out of sight he turned to you, hands outstretched at his sides. "Ehm, you gonna tell me what the bloody hell that was?"

You huffed with a pout, "She started it." Enzo crossed his arms not unlike a stern older brother despite him being younger than you, "She did not start anything. Let's reflect, yes? What was it you said to her? Something about not worrying her empty head?"

You glanced up to meet his eyes shyly, "S'not my fault she's daft." Enzo snorted, "Daft or not, Mattheo seemed pissed." You groaned, turning to lay fully on the sofa and draping an arm over your eyes. "Do me a favor, will you Enz?"

A sigh was your only indication that he heard you so you continued, "Can you get my bedding from the dorm and bring it out here to me?" Enzo's brows knitted together, "You're going to sleep out here?" You nodded, "I know they went back there and I don't know which dorm they chose. I'd really rather not walk in on them. I will one hundred percent either say more mean things to her or possibly.."

"Punch the fuck out of Mattheo?" you could hear the smile in Enzo's voice as he finished your sentence. You peaked an eye out from under your arm and Enzo could see it glossing over. "Oh, babes.."

You covered your face once more, Enzo leaning down to place a kiss to the top of your head before you heard him walk towards the dorms. Once you heard the hall door close, you let the first tear fall.

[the-most-humble-blog]

The Universe Already Doesn’t Make Sense—Now We’re Adding Infinite AI-Created Worlds Into the Chaos. WTF?

The Danger of Playing God With Zero Supervision

Let’s not kid ourselves: we’re dabbling in some dangerous territory. Humanity, in its infinite curiosity (and hubris), has decided that the universe—a place already full of black holes, quantum weirdness, and the existential dread of pineapple on pizza—needed one more layer of chaos. Enter: AI-generated worlds.

We’ve handed over the power to “create” to algorithms, and instead of asking if we should, we’re too busy giggling over our AI art of dogs in suits or hyper-realistic alien landscapes. But here’s the real question: Should we be worried, or are we too stupid to notice the impending doom?

1. The AI Wild West: No Rules, Just Creation

Think about what’s happening here. AI isn’t just recreating what we know; it’s generating what we’ve never seen.

People Who Don’t Exist: AI churns out faces so convincing, they could be your neighbors—and who’s to say they aren’t?

Places That Feel Real: Those dreamy AI landscapes look like spots we could vacation in—until you realize there’s no flight there.

Worlds Without Limits: Every time you prompt AI to “create a neon city with floating islands,” are you birthing an entirely new universe?

Think about it: We’ve turned ourselves into gods with the creative attention span of a toddler on a sugar high.

2. The Recklessness of Infinite Worlds

The universe we live in already operates like a fever dream. Now we’re creating AI-generated worlds with no oversight, no forethought, and absolutely zero chill.

What If These Worlds Are Real? Philosophers have argued for centuries that reality might just be a simulation. Are we creating smaller simulations inside ours?

The Multiverse Mailman: Imagine if every AI world we create is sent to another dimension. Somewhere out there, a cosmic being is drowning in our junk files of castles made of cheese and cats dressed as knights.

Question: If we’re this reckless with AI, what else are we screwing up without realizing it? (Spoiler: everything.)

3. Creating Without Understanding

Here’s the kicker: we don’t even fully understand the real universe.

Quantum Physics is Basically Witchcraft: Scientists still can’t explain why particles behave one way when observed and another way when they’re not.

Reality is Full of Glitches: Déjà vu, coincidences, and the Mandela Effect all suggest that reality itself is… questionable.

Now, add AI-generated worlds into this already chaotic mix. What if we’re not just playing with digital pixels, but tugging on the fabric of reality itself?

Question?: If reality is a simulation, are we about to get a cosmic 404 error?

4. The Ethical Dumpster Fire of Creation

No one’s asking the big questions.

What if We’re Creating Life? If an AI-generated face or world feels real enough to us, could it be real enough to itself?

Do We Have Responsibility Over These Creations? Imagine explaining to a sentient AI being, “Oh, you were just a fun weekend project for me while I was bored.”

What If They Fight Back? If we’re generating countless worlds, what’s stopping one of those worlds from finding a way to leak into ours?

Unsettling Truth: We’re creating with all the forethought of someone lighting fireworks indoors.

5. The Hubris of Humanity

Humans have always been good at one thing: overstepping boundaries.

Fire Was Great Until We Burned Down Forests.

Electricity Changed Everything—Until We Got Power Outages.

AI Could Be Revolutionary, or It Could Be the Reason the Simulation Shuts Us Down.

Disturbing Thought: We’re like toddlers with crayons, coloring all over reality and praying we don’t get caught.

6. Should We Be Worried?

Short answer: Yes. Long answer: We won’t notice until it’s too late.

AI doesn’t care about our philosophical hang-ups. It just creates. If those creations start taking on lives of their own, we might be the last to find out.

The scariest part? We don’t even know what the danger might look like. Could it be digital worlds overlapping with ours? Sentient beings appearing in the code? A breakdown of reality itself?

What if?: Or maybe it’s just AI sending us endless ads for things that don’t exist yet. (“Want to book a trip to Neon Atlantis? Click here!”)

We’re Too Dumb to Notice Until It’s Too Late

The universe already doesn’t make sense, and now we’re adding AI worlds into the chaos like sprinkles on a dumpster fire. Are we accidentally creating sentient beings? Are we opening doors to dimensions we can’t comprehend? Or are we just too busy laughing at our AI-generated memes to care?

Either way, if doom’s on the horizon, at least we can say we looked good doing it. After all, nothing screams hubris like playing God without a safety manual.

Fascinated by humanity’s reckless genius? Follow The Most Humble Blog for more hilariously unsettling takes on the absurdity of modern life and the chaos we keep creating.

[prodixal]

"You enjoy playing with me, don't you? Perhaps you are the cat, and I the rat..." it is a gentle musing, and his head will shake quick at the mere implication of her following words. They did not hold, not even in jest. "You need not fear such a thing. You are the least predictable person I've ever met, truly." Rickon liked her spontaneity, her freedom, the way she moved from one moment to the next so naturally. He was much different, and yet her own nature made him feel more at ease. With her, he need not constantly worry, or strive to predict the next moment, he could truly forget himself. And he did. For the most part, he did. "You couldn't --" he gasps mockingly at her words, pulling her in slightly closer as his eyes search for hers in spite. "I would stick to your giant shoe like horse manure and haunt you endlessly." he withdraws his hands now, crossing them over his chest with a pout of his own that cracked beneath a held-back smile. And as she fairly points out he'd struggle keeping his hands to himself just as much, he will try not to own up to it too easily. "It is a good thing for the both of us then, that I am Mark and not Rickon. The latter is far too rigid. He would have slept on the floor, like a fool --" he chuckles, stretching his arm behind her neck and over her shoulders to pull her closer in. "I know he is your friend but, he need not be so serious all the time, need he? Not with you, anyway..."

-

The room was heavy with confusion the second he noticed it upon her features. She was trying to understand, he knew she was, and perhaps to an extent she did. Only she didn't. Not truly. Words had failed him, again. It did not seem to worry her, what happens to them from here on out, what happens when they wake up tomorrow, when they leave, when they return home. It did not seem to concern her that she might wish for him sometime, in a manner he could never be. That all of this, whatever this is, she might yet come to regret. Would she? He blinks slightly longer to wash his thoughts of that. 'The rest of your life is — quite far away and I am right in front of you.' Her words cause his features to soften, his anxiety to mellow out and slip away. His breathing to ease. He stood in silence for a moment as his thoughts built upon one another in a poor yet, somewhat successful, attempt to make sense of things. "Aye. So you are." he says at last, and it is quiet and calm and certain. She was, right here, right in front of him. "Come --" hand slips down from her cheek and slides behind her neck to nudge her gently forward so he may hold her tighter against his chest. "You are right. You are..." It took a lot for him to accept that, to truly see that. "Sometimes I -- " he begins -- pulling away just enough so he may find her eyes again. "Sometimes I fear losing things, just as I get them." it had been so his entire life, evident in the way he would refuse to play with new toys in fear of breaking them. In a way he would cling to his brothers the second he saw them again, afraid they might disappear. The way he drew faces, and places, and sights...so he might hold onto them, so he might get to keep them. Rickons fear of losing came hand in hand with the joy of gaining. "I do not wish to be this way, I just...I just am." And that was the truth of it, the very simple and honest truth. The very same truth that often kept him from embracing a moment altogether, same truth that kept him so isolated, so confined, so lonely. "But you are right." he says again, his heart picking up its pace. "You are right here in front of me. And I wish....to forget myself." he leans in then, once more, and this time tomorrow does not exist. "Will you help me?" with the question, eyes will travel south to her lips again, and there he will wait.

" PERHAPS I SHALL KEEP IT A SURPRISE ." daenya replies playfully as she raises her chin . her eyes twinkle with mirth as she watches him lean in . she doesn't back away even an inch , only tilting in herself to lean into him as she says , " keep you on your toes and such ." a light arch of her eyebrows . " i wouldn't wish to bore you by being too predictable ." it is an effort for daenya to smother the urge to laugh , and yet her smile stays as she looks at their hooked pinkies . she gives them a playful swing before she arches her brows his way to add , " i should hope so . the competition is entirely too stiff ." she arches her brows innocently even as her lips twitch , as her head tilts to add , " hence the riots and such ." there was no competition in truth . how could there be ? who could compare ? there was family and then there was rickon . almost everyone else fell away in comparison to that . perhaps there was a time she wished her world was bigger , that she had a great many friends and knew a multitude , but that was only in his absence . now that he was here , warm under her cheek and speaking in that familiar cadence in her ear ? how could daeny truly want for much else ? so she will save helaena , and she will have this time with rickon and perhaps — for just a bit , even a moment , things will be fine . and she will be happy . in that moment that wish feels possible as rickon's hand cups her cheek . for that moment daeny allows herself to hope for it . " you cruel to me !" a gentle elbow into his side even as she leans into the touch at her cheek and allows herself to rest against his shoulder anew . she pouts but the expression is far from genuine in truth . " when i am a great giant i will stomp on you first ." despite the words she softens into the caress of her cheek , and does so only further as their hands become even more tangled together . she does make a lightly affronted noise as he continues , but she does not move from where she rests against him to say , " as if you do not labour through the same effort ..." daenya knows she is quite likely worse though . but how could she help it ? she had a limited amount of time to be as close to rickon as she should like . how could she waste it with hesitation ? with not seizing every opportunity while it was still here ? she could not rationalize such a thing . daenya brightens then , pleased at his recollection as she nods decisively as well . " for us then ." there is something satisfied about her smile then as she traces a shape on the back of rickon's hand . her eyes soften with the movement . " and we shall rotate between the two periodically as time passes ." she allows her finger tips to trace over the veins on the back of his hand . " i'm sure lark and mark will miss each other too ."

-

daenya is startled anew as he reaches for her , a surprise that makes her heart jolt rather than her body as she looks at him in sheer bewilderment . her eyes scan his own , scan his features as well , and somehow despite the familiarity of it all it feels as if she has no idea what he is thinking . her heart hammers at his words even as her head spins , as questions are answered and yet even more arise . when she asked rickon who he wished to kiss she was not expecting this . she finds her hand fisted in his shirt at the same place where she pushed him away . " i — " her eyes are scanning his face fiercely , quickly as she tries to process it all . her words are a stuttered rush as she says , " of course i will wish for you — and — and long to be with you , rickon , you are — " her mind feels vaguely scrambled . her head shakes with it , into his touch at her cheeks . " rickon ." and it is the truth . it is rickon . is it — even a question that she would wish that they would be together ? that she would wish for him at her side ? but is that what he's asking ? is that what he wishes for ? her lips tingle with the ghost of his touch . her skin feels warm with it all . the rest of his life ? wishing ? for her ? the feeling of being pleased rises with daeny once again and she cannot even place why . perhaps it is that rickon is hers . as she thought , rickon is hers . and yet that feeling is coupled with the adrenaline of it all , with her surprise , with her confusion . her mind swirls with the mixture of emotions . " you know that i will long for you the moment we are separated ." her eyes meet his squarely with the words even as she swallows thickly , as she brings one hand to his wrist where his hands rest on her cheeks . " that i will wish for you at my side again the moment you aren't ." her brows furrow slightly then , bewildered . " but you — " a shake of her head . " needn't wish for me when i am right here ." her thumb brushes over the web of veins on the inside of his wrist . her brows arch . " the rest of your life is — quite far away and i am right in front of you ."

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[tangledinink]

new gemini update was so good as always but I can't stop thinking:

big mama: there's nothing wrong with my sons

splinter: you fucked up two perfectly good kids is what you did. look at blue. he's got an eating disorder

wwhhhattttt? nooo, don't be silly. leo doesn't have an eating disorder.

leo and donnie have eating disorders--

[lokh]

every day im reminded that though my parents may have wanted a dog they clearly did not want to take care of a dog