#and i can't think of any possiblities other than them

[five-rivers]

Little thing inspired by various Justice League summons Danny posts I've seen about.

.

Interdimensional travel was hard.

It was a true statement, and one that, in retrospect, was obvious. Of course interdimensional travel was hard. It was reaching out of your reality and into one that had an entirely different set of rules. However, having an interdimensional portal in one's basement tended to skew one's understanding of these things. That was why it took Danny so long to realize that the Observants were actually worried about him.

"Wait," he said, looking up from the (admittedly very passive-aggressive) report the crowd of Observants had just dropped on his (already crowded) desk. "You want to change my summoning ritual because you think other dimensions might hurt my human half?"

"Some of them certainly will," said one of the Observants, testily.

"I didn't know you cared about that," said Danny, still somewhat stunned.

"We normally wouldn't," admitted the Observant, "but although the position of Ghost King is, politically, a figurehead, you are metaphysically vital to the Realms as a whole. Damage to you is to be avoided, when possible."

"Uh huh," said Danny, looking back down at the summoning ritual change paperwork. Although, through a combination of Danny's own nature and the nature of time across dimensional barriers, Danny still looked fourteen and spent a great deal of his time going to school in Amity Park, he had years of experience interpreting the Observants' paperwork under his belt. "Yeah, it's just that I don't think this is the best way to, like. Do that."

"It is the best way to protect you!" said the Observant who had, apparently, been selected as the group's spokesperson.

"Maybe," agreed Danny, who wasn't entirely sure that was true. "But I feel like some of these modifications would kind of be a problem for wherever I wound up."

"Then they ought not to summon you."

While Danny agreed with that sentiment in spirit (getting summoned was almost always inconvenient and annoying), in practice, he wasn't so sure. "I don't think there's any way to communicate that to the guys who are summoning me. Like, some of them get me with old Pariah Dark rituals. And most of them don't really care if their mistakes screw over other people, so..."

"Next to the well-being of the Realms, that is a minor concern."

Danny didn't disagree with that, but he wasn't about to waste time arguing with the Observants about it. They just didn't get it. He tapped his finger on another section that was bothering him. "Also, this seems to keep me from getting out of the summoning circle at all. If someone is summoning me to ask for help, that's going to keep me from doing much."

"It will also keep you from inadvertently exiting into a hostile environment."

"Even in my home universe?" asked Danny, pointedly. "This seems like something more geared to imprisonment than protection."

The Observants were silent.

"Oh, come on, guys, really? Again?"

The Observants scattered.

Danny sighed and picked up the paperwork. He didn't think it was all bad ideas, honestly, but he needed a second opinion that hadn't tried to stuff him in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep Mark 2.

Maybe Clockwork would look it over for him.

.

"It isn't an entirely terrible concept," said Clockwork, "except for the obvious drawbacks."

"The whole being trapped in the summoning circle bit," said Danny.

Clockwork nodded. "To be fairer than they deserve, there is no way to modify that portion of a summoning ritual in some types of universes but not others. Not from our own side of things, in any case."

"And I mostly can't get at the other side," said Danny with a groan. He perched on the back of Clockwork's chair. "I do want to make sure that I, I don't know, fit with other universes enough that I won't completely demolish them just by existing."

Clockwork hummed. "There are some ways to do that. There are drawbacks, however."

"Bigger drawbacks than accidentally nuking a planet because my radiation is different than theirs?"

"It depends on your perspective, I suppose."

Danny sighed. "Go ahead and tell me, then."

Clockwork picked up a pen. "You are a shapeshifter. You have multiple forms, one of which cannot be harmed through any normal means and which similarly would have little negative affect on the environment unless you acted to cause negative effects. Change the current ritual so that a summoning puts you in that form, and then further change it so that you cannot leave the circle unless you are in a form that will not automatically cause harm or be harmed by the laws of that universe."

"You mean my Ghost King form."

"All your forms are your Ghost King form."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," said Clockwork, smiling.

"It freaks people out, though."

"Your current form might, as you say, freak people out," said Clockwork. "If your summoners were, say, ants."

"Is that likely?"

"Not particularly. But consider the multiverse. Not all of your summoners will be human."

Danny crossed his arms, frustrated that there wasn't an easy solution. "I guess I could always shapeshift into something nonthreatening after. Hard to see if it's something safe without running into

"You can do more than that."

"I can?"

"Yes," said Clockwork, setting the pen to paper. "Let me show you."

.

The summoning circle shimmered and shivered as Constantine and Zatanna recited the chant, their voices rising and falling. Batman and other members of the League stood by, watching, waiting.

This, this ritual, wasn't their first choice. It wasn't their second, third, or fourth choice, either. But nothing else they had tried worked, and the entire world was at stake.

They were summoning the King of All Ghosts. An eldritch monstrosity that had once tried to conquer all realities. But the alternative was worse. Much worst. At least, with the King of All Ghosts, there was a chance that they could negotiate and that it'd want the Earth more or less intact for the sake of conquering it. At least, with this kind of summoning, they could offer a sacrifice, a bargain, a deal.

And if Constantine was good at anything, it was deals.

The lines of the summoning circle flared green, then pure white, and, without any other fanfare, the King of All Ghosts was there.

It filled the circle with starry darkness, struck with nebulae and aurorae. The clouds rippled as a star died near its heart, fiery cataclysms spreading throughout the being. A crown like the accretion disk of a black hole burned around its highest extremity.

Something like a voice, echoing and many-layered, emanated from the being. "Nghftùsh phlarûm âzgûm (1)." It paused, and the League felt it examine the area more closely. "Ko wgâ âzgûm nghftùsh derza. Ko gok hubhûfh fhtù gâh mglwnuh...(2)"

Constantine swore. "Oh, bollocks, I don't know that one. Would it be too much to ask that one of these things speak English? Just a little?"

"Nghftùsh ak. Ko ngngi. (3)"

"Zatanna," said Batman, "could a spell let us understand one another?"

"Kù-nghînku bùr fùmúu umni snîgûrip. (4)" It seemed to bend closer for all that it didn't move. "Nghftùsh laglúfhâk krîk ko phlî ak phlorza. Chthe nî hîhnâ, ka. (5)"

"I think I understand a little," said Captain Marvel, raising a hand. "I think it understands us just fine."

"Hagthu. Nghftùsh ngngi ùk nî chthe kûmpù nû gâ. (6)"

"It wants to get out of the circle," said Captain Marvel.

The veils of green light that shrouded the being rippled. "Dal phlù. (7)"

"Not without an agreement in place, you're not," said Constantine.

"Gagthashîzgathg. (8)"

"God," whispered Flash, "that hurts my throat just hearing it."

Batman shot him a glare, then stepped forward. They'd prepared a list of demands. Most of them were negotiable, but it was better to start something like this with things you were willing to remove or throw away. It took several minutes for Batman to read the whole thing.

"Ku. Chthal lohúfhâk hagthu. Fhta nghftùsh kâk phlorza ko thru. (9)"

"What did it say?" asked Batman.

"I'm... I think it said it'll do it, but it needs something from us in return."

Batman nodded. They'd expected something like this. Whatever it asked for, it would, without a doubt, be exorbitant. Then, they'd go back and forth, reducing each of their demands until they'd reached a deal both sides hated, but could accept. Constantine had bet that, at minimum, the King of All Ghosts would want the entire population of Earth as slaves.

"Nghftùsh kâk hû ko mglwno nî phnglâ gho-lobi. (10)"

"Uh," said Captain Marvel. "I think he said one of our lives."

"Hik! Rlo phlarâk kruk nîk ghû. (11)"

"Not just any of us," said Marvel. "It has to be someone who's a parent."

A tension fell over the room. They'd known they'd have to sacrifice something. A single life wasn't much, but for the King of All Ghosts to specify a parent...

"But are you sure it's just one?" pressed Constantine.

The King of All Ghosts gave off a sense of... exasperation? "Úzg, hû. (12)"

"One," said Captain Marvel. "Just one."

"And just us, not our kids or anything?"

"Nghftùsh ngngi ùk e nghuu. Gù phlarâk fush ko du? (13)"

"No, it doesn't want children. They're... wrong, somehow?"

"And it's not a sex thing?" Constantine sounded... strangely hopeful.

"Hik! Fhtùl! (14)"

"No," said Captain Marvel. "And... something about fat, maybe?"

"Oh, we're definitely getting eaten, then," said Constantine, with forced cheer. "I volunteer, then. It's not like my kids are sitting up waiting for me or anything."

"Hik nuk. Ngngi ko. E hâta phlarâk lerzaolûm. (15)"

"Not you, there's... something wrong with your soul."

"Oh, he's a picky eater, too, huh?"

"Let's not antagonize him, okay?" said Flash. "He's kind of-- He's kind of looming, right now."

And so it was. Somehow. Without moving.

"Who will... satisfy you?" asked Batman.

The entity did not move, but it managed to indicate Batman anyway.

"Very well," said Batman, before anyone could even attempt to talk him out of it. After all, his life for the lives of everyone in this universe was a very good deal. "Take me."

For the first time, the King of All Ghosts moved, all that darkness, all that light, rushing towards Batman.

There was a burst of blinding light.

When everyone opened their eyes again, a boy with black hair, blue eyes, and a jawline that bore more than a passing resemblance to Batman's was stepping out of the summoning circle.

"That's much better," he said, stretching. "No offense, dude, but you kind of suck at Ghost Speak." He turned to Batman. "What I was asking for was a template so I could exist in your universe and do what you want without accidentally blowing it up because of incompatible physics, but whatever. Not sure how you guys got me eating you out of that."

"You wanted a human appearance so you could better conquer this world?" asked Batman.

"Uh, no? You've got a pretty strong clause against conquering the world in your paperwork there. You're probably thinking about Pariah Dark, but he's old news." The boy smiled widely. "Let's get started on your problem, okay?"

I've been summoned.

You haven't summoned me before. You have a nice space station here...

I can. You can't.

Inter-dimensional language differences are so annoying.

I hope you can do something. This will be difficult, otherwise.

Good. I don't want to be in this circle forever.

Close enough.

Figures (literally, 'certainly').

Okay. That sounds good. But I need something from you.

I need one of you to be my template (literally, life-pattern).

No! It's like being a parent.

Yes, one.

I don't want your children. What is wrong with you?

No! Gross!

No way. Not you. You're crazy (literally, your soul is cracked).

[zombii-writess]

ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

summary: ever since you've woken up in Twisted Wonderland, you've been in awe. i mean how could you not? magic was everywhere!

your friends just shrug it off, thinking that there was nothing special about this world, but you, oh you can't help but giggle like a child whenever something explodes, whether on purpose or accidently, in potions class. of course, someone has noticed the joy at the smallest things in your eyes, and he can't help but admire that.

characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus,

type: fluffy / gn reader / romantic / bullet points + lowercase intended / reader is yuu

a/n: had this in my head for a while but whenever im given the chance to write i forget everything, some characters might be ooc and like most of the stuff i just searched up lol

unedited

✁-----

[ⅰ] riddle rosehearts

riddle likes your enthusiasm about wanting to learn things. so when you came up to him with a bunch of questions regarding his world, you bet he pulled out a stack of books and plopped them on a nearby table.

"i hope your free for the next hour, [name], because we aren't leaving until your curiosity is satisfied."

he thinks you're going to whine and make an excuse to leave, but he's left silent when you nod and plop down on the chair, back straight and ready to learn at whatever knowledge was going to be thrown your way.

it ended being longer than an hour. you couldn't help yourself asking questions about certain things like wars, how magic came to be, how it was possible to for dorms to have their own dimensional pocket for its location, and blah blah blah.

and riddle couldn't help himself to answering your questions, which led to more questions and again blah blah blah.

finally, you guys get a break for snacks and refreshments, riddle decides to ask you about your world. is there truly no magic in your world? ...magicians? they give the allusion of magic without being able to use it? interesting.

and break ends without both you realize it, but this time, riddle's the student and you're the teacher.

[ⅱ] leona kingscholar

usually, leona doesn't care if you're around him whenever he's sleeping, he likes napping on you. as long as it's quiet and there's no ruggie bugging him about any assignments, he's a happy lion.

but he can't help flicking his tail in irritation at your constant staring at his tail and furry ears when he's trying to sleep. he knows you probably want to touch them.

yeah, leona knows he's good looking, but could've you done your sight-seeing when he's more awake and ready to tease you?

"hey, herbivore, is there something on my face?" leona opens an eye and stares at yours with his green one. he notices you eying his ears and with a loud sigh, he repositions himself to rest his chin on your belly. "only for 3 minutes"

giggling, you immediately reach over and stroked at his fuzzy ears. then comes the questions. "do you use different shampoo for your tail?" "how do you wear headphones?" "your tail is very pretty!"

while you chatted away and messed with his ears and hair, leona fell deeper and deeper into slumber. he'll answer your questions when he wakes up.

[ⅲ] azul ashengrotto

why did he agree to this? why couldn't he just tell jade and floyd to take and show you the beauty of the deep sea? but knowing them, they might pull something and that something was this!

stuck in a sunken ship, with you, in his octopus form! but he can't help but flush at your gentle petting towards one of his many arms, the appendage wrapping itself around your fingers. he curses at the twins under his breath.

azul tries to focus your attention on other things he has found in the ruined ship, "look at this jewel, isn't it shiny?" "no? well, uh, then what about these shells? don't they look prettier to look at?" but the more he brough items using his limbs, the more amazed you are.

"wow, your arms are useful, not to mention very beautiful." azul pauses, soaking up your words, heart fluttering. "this shade flatters you so much, i bet you look good in any color"

azul and you didn't realize how close you had gotten to each other, chests touching and eyes locked like nothing else mattered. "azul, you're very beautiful."

his heart clenches at your words, swallowing a bit and murmuring a small 'thank you.' azul's limbs tightening their grip around you. "thank you, [name]..."

[ⅳ] kalim al asim

he's a yapper like you, poor jamil is seconds away from slamming his head into a wall from your ramblings.

you're amazed at some crystal lamps he has? guess what's sitting on your desk in your dorm. what do you mean there's no such thing as enchanted jewelry in your world? don't worry [name] he'll cover you head to toe in enchanted jewelry.

but then kalim has an idea. what if he took you on a magic carpet ride? you liked it last time surely, you would want to do it again. you beam at the idea and before jamil could get a say in, kalim scoops your hand in his and drags you to the treasury where he keeps his magic carpet.

squealing in delight, the air smacked your face to which you buried yourself in kalim's clothing as you clung to him. kalim laughs with you as he guides his carpet up into the clouds. '[name] check out this view!'

you gasp at the sight; the moon was full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkled in the dark dome, the air was crisp and cold. kalim feels his face warm up at the sight.

he'll take you anywhere you want as long as you stay by his side

[ⅴ] vil schoenheit

you remind him of rook in a way, always admiring the simplest things and always impressed by the tiniest things. he's seen the way you look at him with stars in your eyes whenever he makes sparkles fly in alchemy and potions class.

vil knows your curious and he absolutely thrives at your constant attention on whatever he's doing. be it doing his make-up, skin care routine, or doing schoolwork. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind your attention behind cameras.

currently, he's doing your daily skin care date night while you yapped away about potions and his skin care.

"you make your own skin care products right? that's amazing, i couldn't trust making my own and expect my face to come out as clear as yours." you laugh

vil huffs as his pinky scoops up some lip balm, then holds your chin gently with his pointer finger and thumb and applies the product to your lips. which he totally didn't need to do all of that when there was a small stick.

"that's why i'm here, [name], i could show you some tricks i've learned through trial and error."

[ⅵ] idia shroud

after over blotting and apologizing to everyone, idia expects his life to remain the same, occasionally having interactions with his peers, you have shown up to his dorm, thanks to ortho, and expressed your curiosity in his hair.

idia stutters out an incoherent explanation, tips of his hair burning a pink from the concentrated look in your eyes, and once he finishes, idia goes to close his door but jumps at your hand gripping onto the door. you weren't satisfied.

eventually you invite yourself inside and after countless questions about him, you mention technology from your world and that catches his attention.

he listens to your explanation, occasionally snickering at the outdated technology your world had. when you ask about the technology from this world, idia comes out a bit more from his shell and goes on a 3-hour rant about technology from Twisted Wonderland, with you occasionally asking questions.

idia hopes you don't notice the tips of his hair turning pink, but of course, you ask him, admiring the color.

[ⅶ] malleus draconia

he admires that about you. for someone who'll live for a short time, you always cherish what little time you have. malleus has lived for a long time; he's seen things come and go, and over the years, he seems to have lost the passion to seek and explore what life offered.

but being with you with your daily late-night walks, with your rambling of how you found potions being able to heal injuries and sicknesses absolutely mindboggling.

malleus listens attentively to your speech on mythical creatures back in your world, how dragons were your personal favorite, and how in your world, in fae mythology, it's rare for a fae to choose to become mortal. that certainly catches malleus' attention. (i literally just googled this so idk if this is accurate)

he's certainly never heard of this statement, but it does intrigue him. now your speech leads to questioning him or questioning about his title as one of the top five powerful mages. how do you get that title? are you born with it or do you have to prove yourself to professionals? can anyone receive this title?

malleus just smiles and answers your onslaught of questions, heart fluttering at your attentive gaze

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[rotationalsymmetry]

I do think the "realistically, the gaang must have already been killing people" thing is being genre-oblivious. This is a children's cartoon show, and you gotta roll with the conventions of children's media. For the most part, unambiguous death doesn't happen. When Katara freezes people in ice, they're fine, just immobilized, even though it's *ice*. When Fire Nation soldiers get dumped into the ocean, we see them at least temporarily treading water, which allows for the possibility of an off-screen rescue. When an Earth Kingdom general is trying to convince Aang to join the war, we see *injured* Earth Kingdom soldiers, with no coffins or anything. An implausibly large number of people are captured rather than killed by the Fire Nation -- we don't know of one character on the heroes' side who died on the Day of Black Sun even though they lost, it's not that big a stretch to imagine that worked both ways.

Even Yue doesn't really die, she turns into the moon.

And you can't make an argument that the show is treating ordinary characters like red shirts while giving the leaders "real person" status, because it doesn't! The show humanizes minor characters and people who don't have much in the way of power at every turn. There's Fire Nation soldiers and guards and students with individual personalities. Ordinary people in the Earth Kingdom have their own struggles and losses and moments of happiness. In the Avatar Day episode, Aang makes friends with the other people in jail and in the Boiling Rock episode the heroes work with other prisoners -- people with their own priorities whose crimes are left ambiguous -- to escape. There's no stormtroopers in this show, no faceless mooks. Everyone's a person.

And the show spent INCREDIBLE amounts of time on showing Zuko's redemption arc. So much that I think some people think of him as just being ontologically on the heroes' side from the beginning. The show put so much effort into humanizing and redeeming Zuko to convey that other people in the Fire Nation have that potential, including his father, who was a teenager once too. (Was a child once. Aang sees a picture of Ozai as a child.) Picture a Zuko who grew to adulthood as the prince of the Fire Nation, surrounded by people who were sure that the Fire Nation's imperialism was right and correct, and never directly interacting with any people the Fire Nation harmed. Are you sure Zuko couldn't have turned into someone like Ozai under different circumstances?

And it's not rushed. It's set up in The Southern Raiders, if not earlier. It's a theme over multiple episodes; the method is introduced late but the conflict is not, and the method is not the important thing. (Steven Universe was very much rushed, unfortunately, due to executive meddling. And also. If you're going to be mad at the show, you have to be mad at it starting with the Pink Diamond reveal, and that part wasn't rushed, that part came off perfectly.)

(It's also thematically consistent with, eg, Paku getting in the way of Katara learning water bending at first but being a temporary adversary, not a permanent one, or the guy Yue was engaged to being a total jerk, and Jet's story and Hama's. Sometimes people are complicated, sometimes people have conflict with people basically on their side, because whatever side of a conflict people are on, they are still people. With positive qualities and flaws. On whichever side. This is the core thematic message of the show, for crying out loud. Objecting to that means you wanted a completely different show.)

Sometimes I think about how and why some people had such a *bad* reaction to the end of Steven Universe, specifically in regards to the Diamonds living.

Even though they no longer are causing harm to others and are able to actually undo some of their previous harm by living, some folks reacted as though this ending was somehow morally suspect. Morally bankrupt, even.

And I think it might be because so many of us were raised on a very specific kind of kids media trope:

They all fall to their deaths.

Disney loves chucking their bad guys off cliffs. And it makes sense- in a moral framework where villains *must* be punished (regardless of whether their death will actually prevent further harm or not), but killing of any kind is morally bad for the hero, the narrative must find a way to kill the villain without the protagonists doing a murder.

It's a moral assumption that a person can *deserve* to die, that it is cosmically just for them to die, that them dying is evidence that the story itself is morally good and correct. Scar *deserves* to die, but it would be bad for Simba to kill him. So....cliff. (edit: yes, cliff then hyenas. But cliff first. Lol.)

Steven Universe, whatever else it's faults, took a step back and said "but if killing people is bad, then people dying is bad", and instead of dropping White Diamond off a cliff, asked "what would actual *restorative*, not punitive, justice look like? What would actual reparations mean here? If the goal is to heal, not just to punish, how do we handle those who have done harm?" And then did that.

Which I think is interesting, and that there was pushback against it is interesting.

It also reminds me of the folks who get very weird about Aang not killing Ozai at the end of Avatar. And like, Ozai still gets chucked in prison, so it doesn't even push back on our cultural ideas of punitive justice *that much.* and still, I've seen people get real mad that the child monk who is the last survivor of a genocide that wiped out his entire pacifist culture didn't do a murder.

[thewertsearch]

@krixwell asked: I think it's general theory summary o'clock. Broadly, what are your expectations for the rest of Act 5 and its ending?

I'm a little late answering this one - but hey, better late than never!

I can't predict the rest of the Act anymore, but I can try and predict the ending. Here are my predictions for what'll happen in Cascade, organized by character.

Rose & Dave

The Derse twins, who have dispatched DD together, meet Aradia at the Green Sun. The Tumor detonates as planned, but Aradia is able to save them somehow, possibly by spiriting them away with time travel...

...or, by telling them how she cheated death.

Aradia was able to resurrect herself without a backup body, from a pedestal hidden within the moon of Derse; the very moon the kids are currently piloting. Doc Scratch has already hinted that Rose might ascend on 'another quest bed somewhere', and I think this is how she - and Dave - could do it.

If Rose and Dave died destroying the Sun, it would almost certainly count as Heroic – but that doesn't actually matter. If the twins die on Quest Slabs, they won't die as God Tiers - they'll die as mortals, and resurrect as God Tiers. They should reincarnate safely, as the Sun collapses for good.

The Meteor Crew

To be honest, I don't think the trolls will have much of a role to play in the endgame. All the action is happening in the kids' session, and now that the Scratch has started, they can't even contact that session.

In any case, these kids are planning to follow the Green Sun's explosion to a predetermined rendezvous point. I'm not sure how they're going to get there - but Kanaya is a wielder of the Space Aspect, so maybe it's her time to shine.

...I mean, shine even more brightly than she already does.

Jack

After he absolutely kills CD, Jack is destined to travel to the troll session, but I still have no idea how. Perhaps the dimensional instability created by the Scratch will start to rip holes into other sessions, and he’ll be lured into one? Who knows.

I'm as stumped as I ever was. Only one way to find out, I guess!

John

Once he's triggered the Scratch, this kid's going to need an out. He'll need to make himself scarce in order to avoid being erased...

...or, perhaps he won’t. Perhaps, as the Heir of Breath, he’ll be able to use the Breeze to conceal himself from whatever force is destroying the session, the same way he hid his scent from Jack.

Either way, he'll probably be fine, while the same cannot be said for...

Jade

The greatest of Fs for our girl. Jade's been killed in an extremely tense situation, without leaving much hope for her resurrection before the Scratch.

The Sprites are still around, but I don’t know how they’d revive her- like, sure, Nanna has a healing beam, but I don’t think she can heal death. Plus, Jade made a Choice with Echidna to locate her Final Frog - and it seems that accepting a Choice will inevitably lead you to sacrifice your life. If Jade's death was immediately undone, would it really count as a sacrifice?

I don't want to call it too early, but... it isn't out of the question that Jade is gone for good. Especially when she's already got a replacement, waiting in the wings.

Jadesprite

I think it's genuinely possible that Jadesprite could take over Jade's role as one of the 'main' four kids.

She's about to lose her First Guardian powers, but she should still have time to fulfil Echidna's request in her realself's stead, simply by shrinking the entire session, and teleporting it to the Furthest Ring, where her allies can captchalogue it. Hell, this would be easy for her.

I really, really don't want Jade to be dead. But, well... she made a Choice.

The Endgame

Finally, we see the consequences of the Green Sun’s destruction, which I’m sure are as cataclysmic as they are unexpected. Rose realizes how badly she was played, as Scratch's full hand is finally revealed. All of Paradox Space shakes from the impact. Scratch and Snowman die, and English consumes the troll universe.

Everyone meets up on the exiled Lands, and they resolve to travel to the reset session, once it’s spawned.

Act 6?

After we're done, I’m hoping for the Guardians-as-Players to get the Hivebent treatment – by which I mean, I’m hoping Act 6 gives us the full story of the Scratched session, right from kid Nanna standing in her bedroom. It’s also possible, though, that we’ll join their session in medias res, as our protagonists' teenage parents face hitherto unknown challenges in a new Medium. I'll talk more about my specific predictions for the Guardian session in their own post, once Act 5 has fully concluded.

The adventure continues, as the kids slowly realize that English, and the Paradox Space twisted to suit his ends, is the true enemy, and they begin to make plans to confront him directly.

[olderthannetfic]

Actually, sorry, nevermind with the pro ship stuff ! Did my research and I'm more informed abt it :) you dont need to post either of the asks I sent abt it (and I'm lowkey scared if coming across as a close minded purist prude whose disillusioned about being by one.)..either way ty!

--

*giggling*

The reality is that any new, viral thing from thirty seconds ago spreads easily on TikTok, most especially misinformation. Instagram is another pretty terrible platform just in terms of algorithms and how it's run. I wouldn't expect the prevailing understanding of such-and-such from within one bubble on either to necessarily be well informed.

The concept of "antis" under that name is pretty new, and the concept of "proshippers" is even newer. It has always meant "not antis". Some people have started mutating it to be about specific dark content, but it was always supposed to be about opposing censorship-happy idiots.

I don't find incestuous ships any freakier than other common fantasies people have. Same with adult/minor ships. You're seeing them in a distinct category because they upset you in particular. The feelings are fine, but they don't actually mean that these kinks are darker than all the other ones antis go after.

I know you think someone will be able to interpret "proshippers DNI" as "only the actually bad people should stay away", but that simply isn't what's going to happen. First, DNIs are moronic. Curating your online space means that you need to be the one blocking and avoiding. You can't ask random strangers, possibly your enemies, to do it for you. Second, people are going to have all kinds of opinions on which content is Bad Enough to count even assuming they share a similar definition of 'proshipper'.

This kind of "Well, we all know what the Bad Stuff is" attitude tends to have a chilling effect on a space. People are all paranoid that their kinks might count and self-censor far beyond what the person who said it expected.

Honestly, aside from the constant misuse of the terms, my assumption is that public proshippers on Instagram and TikTok are mostly into extreme things because anyone less extreme wouldn't have the balls to be public. The amount of death and rape threats from antis wouldn't be worth it.

--

As for my "rules", I don't have any. This is my personal tumblr, but since I leave anon on, people send me lots of things. I post most of them, but I get so many now, that I'll sometimes cut off a topic that has dragged on boringly. I usually don't post the threats I get unless they're funny and I want to mock them.

--

Re teens in fandom, I got into fandom at 13 on Usenet and set about reading all of the freakiest porn available. I read far worse stuff outside of fandom. I was curious, as many people that age are. It never did me any harm, and it won't do any harm to current 13-year-olds to read dark shit.

The people who get fucked up already have a lack of decent mentors in their offline life, are reading things as self harm, are actually being harmed by the social side of fandom where they've found some creep for horny roleplay, are the subject of a public hate campaign, etc. That sucks, but it's not something I can control or that will get better if we exclude them from fandom.

Teens would be better protected by their parents removing TikTok from their phones than by anything to do with fandom. Its short form makes it ideal for poorly fact-checked soundbites that sound good on the surface but discourage critical thinking or nuanced engagement with a topic. Youtube et al. are also cesspits, but TikTok has elevated predatory algorithms and viral misinformation to a whole new level.

Now back to rewatching miniminuteman. Hahaha.

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

You can't imagine what a pleasure it is to be back!!! Yey! Welcome back to the abyss that is my mind. As today is New Year's Eve, there's nothing more fair than posting the day before the first chapter, right?

Well, this theme (Wanda as Scarlet Witch) is still very recent for me, so if you read something wrong or nonsense, please forgive me

Feel it <3

Paring: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Prologue

The void of the multiverse was an unfathomable place, an infinite tangle of possibilities where dreams became realities, and nightmares hid behind every fold in existence. Wanda Maximoff — the Scarlet Witch — was a traveler in this abyss. Her steps echoed through fragmented dimensions, her magic pulsing with the fiery red of determination.

Since losing everything — her children, her family, her peace — Wanda had only one purpose: to rebuild what was taken from her.

“Tommy. Billy.” Their names were a whispered mantra between the cracks of space and time. In every universe she visited, she searched for them, for any glimpse of their laughter, their faces, their hearts she longed to feel beating against hers once again. But the multiverse was cruel. Some realities were shattered, others seemed like false promises of happiness. In all of them, something was missing.

Until she found this one.

When Wanda crossed the veil of the new dimension, the air shifted. There was no chaos here. No ruins or remnants of a lost battle. Everything seemed calm, absurdly perfect. The sound of children’s laughter came from a house in the distance, and for a moment, Wanda hesitated. Could it be them?

She moved closer in silence, cloaking herself in an invisible barrier to remain unseen. Her eyes scanned the blooming garden and settled on the window illuminated by the warm light of the setting sun. There, two boys were running through the garden, laughing loudly as a woman tried, unsuccessfully, to get them to stop.

You.

Time seemed to freeze as Wanda watched. Your smile, your presence... everything about you was so natural, so full of life. But what truly stole Wanda's breath was the detail she hadn’t expected: your rounded belly, carrying a child.

You gently caressed your stomach as you laughed, calling the boys inside for dinner. There was something so extraordinarily simple about that scene, yet so unattainable for Wanda, that a lump formed in her throat.

And then, the door opened.

The Scarlet Witch stood motionless as another woman stepped out of the house — herself.

It was like looking into a mirror, but it wasn’t the reflection Wanda anticipated. This version of herself was... different. There was a brightness in her eyes, a lightness in her step, an unassuming confidence. This Wanda didn’t bear the shadows of the Darkhold, nor the weight of losses etched into her face. She wasn’t just a mother. She was whole.

Wanda watched as the other version kissed Tommy and Billy on their foreheads before approaching you. What happened next made the Scarlet Witch’s heart stop.

The other Wanda knelt before you, her hands resting tenderly on your belly as she smiled. “And how’s our little girl today?” she asked, her voice so soft it sounded like music.

You laughed, the sound light and full of joy. “I think she’s trying to play soccer in there. She hasn’t stopped kicking.”

The other Wanda laughed too, leaning in to kiss your belly before standing to wrap her arms around you.

Hidden in the shadows, the Scarlet Witch felt envy swell like a storm in her chest. This life should have been hers. Tommy and Billy. You. The child yet to be born.

She wanted it more than anything.

And then, she decided.

If this universe couldn’t be hers, she would make it hers.

Red power radiated from her hands as her eyes burned with intensity. And deep down, despite all the consequences her decision might bring, Wanda knew she would never give up.

And deep down, she knew she would do anything to claim it.

As night fell, the Scarlet Witch remained in the darkness, watching like a shadow. Every laugh, every touch, every moment of happiness inside that house felt both out of reach and dangerously close.

She clenched her fists, red energy beginning to pulse in her hands.

With a single motion, she opened a small portal in time and space, slipping inside the house. She was no longer an observer.

Now, she was ready to take what she believed was hers.

And no one, not even another version of herself, would stand in her way.

~*~

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 2/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE<

Turn me into something tragic, just for you I let it happen.

General Warnings: after the first part you're probably thinking how could there possibly be more snark? you're about to find out. same with idiotic shenanigans, they're not quite finished with those!! fluff, cursing, sexual references, and fade to black type smut!!

A/N: DON'T HATE ME FOR MAKING IT 3 PARTS I'M JUST AN ADHD GIRLY WHO CAN'T READ 30K IN ONE GO BUT APPARENTLY CAN WRITE IT??? part three will be tomorrow I pinky promise!! I was nervous about splitting this whole thing up bc I really did write a whole romcom lmao!! I know long fics aren't to everyone's taste but I know no way of life other than the art of yapping!! Sorry that this took a little longer than expected there were a couple of scenes I couldn't get right but I hope you guys like this half as much as you did the first part!! and again I'd love to hear any thoughts!! reading your messages and your reblogs and your tags made my month and ily a lot!! like I said, I promise part 3 will be tomorrow, I didn't want to force so much at you in comparison to the first part!!

“I’m bored.”

Luke hadn’t thought he would regret staying at home when he had told Jack he wasn’t feeling well enough to drive out to Detroit for the Zach Bryan concert - if anything, it was an effort to push him and Ellie a little closer. She took Luke’s place, roomed with Jack in their hotel and everything, and they seemed to be having the time of their lives in all the videos dispersed into the group chat. But that was all before he came downstairs, eyes on the pictures of the all-you-can-eat breakfast the group were partaking in before coming back, and opening the kitchen cupboards to see them bare, with a few protein bars and boxes of granola tossed in like they’d been ransacked for the apocalypse. 

He’d had fun last night, though.

Even after the movie had ended, when the two of you had stayed up on the couch, talking about life - about hockey, about school, about his brothers, about your mom - if he’s honest, it had been the closest he had felt to another person that wasn’t one of his brothers in a really long time.

He really felt like you were connecting.

So much so that he’d retired to his bed for the first time all summer with a big, dopey grin on his face. Had laid awake scrolling through astrological compatibility after the two of you had drifted onto that topic after the movie finished, talking for maybe two hours before you had yawned so big he thought you might swallow him whole.

He had thought he knew you, before.

Had thought that those brief observations made from back in college, about your coffee preferences, your perfume collection, your taste in music, had painted a somewhat blurry picture of who you were - of all the things that blended together to formulate you - but he had been so wrong. 

And he had laid in bed last night thinking much deeper about the girl who was laying only a couple rooms down the hall - a few walls away. 

The girl who had come downstairs, bare feet padding softly into the kitchen, and had poured out two glasses of juice and handed one over to him without even asking. 

“Hi Bored, I’m Luke,” he smiles as he accepts the drink from your hand, the expression deepening as you roll your eyes back at him, this time with a glimmer of fondness slipping through the surface of your facade. 

You reach past him into the cupboard for the box of granola, and he grabs one of the protein bars before closing it, your bodies moving around each other in tandem like a well choreographed routine - easy and effortless in a way that calms whatever nerves he might have had around this new development in your relationship being one-sided.

You had never seemed uncomfortable in the house, or around the rest of the guys, but you had never been like this. 

“I was thinking,” you drag out, voice sweet and alluring, like you even have to put it on to convince Luke of anything, “we could go out on the boat,” you glance back at him as you pour out your cereal, lashes fluttering to complete the act, “You have your license right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, settling himself down to lean at the kitchen island as you cross to the other side, taking one of the stools, “But I’m not really supposed to take it out on my own.”

You hum as if you’re thinking, crunching your food before asking, “Is that brotherly advice or is that the law?”

“Advice, I guess,” he shrugs, pushing forward ever so slightly onto his forearms, where he can feel the tense of his muscles, and can see the diversion of your attention. 

“And you always do what your brothers tell you?”

When you tilt your head, the sun shining through the kitchen window reflects on your irises, making them sparkle, and he can see all the different hues in there, as if you’re using the elements to try hypnotise him into compliance.

You’re so pretty, you don’t even need the special effects.

“I’m a good boy,” he smiles teasingly, with a tilt of his own head, driven by infatuation and admiration, keeping your gaze and trying not to shudder visibly when your eyes drop to his lips. 

“You wouldn’t be on your own, though,” you pout, “I’d be there. I was a lifeguard for the past three summers, you know.” Of course he knows. “I promise I’ll save you if you get thrown overboard.”

You don’t have to say the following sentiment that the two of you share - that if he were to be thrown overboard, it would undoubtedly be by your own hand. 

“Yeah, you’d give me mouth to mouth?”

You scoff, leaning down onto your forearms and mirroring his position, careful not to knock your bowl. “Unfortunately for you, Hughes, they don’t advise the use of that method, anymore.”

“And you always do what people tell you?”

It’s one of his favourite things to do with you, he’s noticed - turn the tables, use your own wit against you. It gets him a reaction, every time. A rush of something real that washes over you, has you fixing your shoulders and biting back a smile. 

Although you don’t bite this one back. Luke doesn’t think that you could, even if you tried. Your eyes even crinkle a little in the corners, and Luke doesn’t see the danger in it - too lost in the way they reflect the glorious sunshine back at him in dazzling sparkles - until one drops in a wink as you retort, “I’m a good girl.”

Touché.

He thinks his heart might have skipped a beat. He can all of a sudden feel every last crumb of the previous bite he took from his protein bar lodged in his throat, and he needs a drink, so he pushes himself up from the counter to try at least gain a height advantage over you, and forces down some gulps of his juice.

The look you’re giving him isn’t doing him any favours - the height difference working against him as your eyes look up to meet his, round and pleading despite the cunning genius he knows is buried within them. 

“Fine,” he huffs, rolling his eyes as your smile grows wider, “But we need to be back before my brothers so I don’t get a lecture.”

“Yes!” You squeal, pushing up from the stool, “I knew you weren’t as boring as you seem!”

He frowns, despite knowing you’re just teasing him for this exact reaction, and watches as you clean up your bowl, discarding of the mushy granola and rinsing it out. 

“I just need ten minutes to get ready and then we can go!”

“You have five.” He grumbles, watching as you rush out the room and listening for the stomp of your feet up the stairs. 

He’s probably going to regret this. 

—

The bikini had been your first strike - baby blue, the type that ties with strings around your neck and back - when you had come down the stairs, the slap of your slides echoing against the wood and diverting his attention from his phone to your emerging figure. Your t-shirt was clutched in your hand, your tote bag in the other, and he had just stood there, mouth agape, until you rolled your eyes and stormed straight past him, calling, “Thought we were on a time crunch, come on,” behind you.

Your second strike had been the way you had waited until you were on the boat to apply your sunscreen, sat next to Luke, who was trying to keep a steady hand on the wheel as he drove his way down to a clear spot further out on the lake. Luke who was biting his tongue from offering to help you, and could smell the sweet melon scent of the lotion as it sank into your skin. 

And the third had been the way you had been smiling down at your phone, distracting him with the pretty curve of your lips as he steered over the water. 

Three such minor infractions already had him regretting the decision to bring you out here alone.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” He asks, trying not to sound as jealous as he feels at the thought of it being another guy.

“It’s Cole,” you tell him, eyes still on your phone.

“You and Cole text?” The boat jolts slightly as his hands tremble, and he diverts his attention to you.

“No, he’s got Ellie’s phone.” You type something back before turning the device to show him a selfie Cole had taken in the hotel lobby, Jack asleep on one of the benches in the background and Ellie posing in front of his sleeping figure.

“Why’s Cole texting from Ellie’s phone?” Luke asks, eyes back on the water as he steers the boat, long fingers curled around the wheel and muscles flexing. 

“They’ve been hanging out,” you tell him, “They were together when we got back from the club the other night, he was in our room.”

“And you’re only just telling me this now, because?”

“Oh, my bad, control freak, didn’t realise you needed the whereabouts of everybody in the house,”

“Jack’s been off all week,” Luke mutters, remembering his brother’s reaction when he had told him he was staying at home instead of going to the concert. He had called him out on staying home just to be around you, saying he’d regret missing out on such a huge experience, like there won’t be a hundred other concerts in his lifetime, and that you wouldn’t even appreciate him doing it. “Making all these passive aggressive comments,”

“No way! Jack Hughes? Passive aggressive?” You gasp, shuffling in your seat to give him more of your attention, “What next, is he gonna start acting like the world revolves around him too?”

“Don’t get cute,” Luke rolls his eyes. It’s starting to make sense, him chewing his ear off like that - even though the two of you had literally caught him out on a date, if he feels like Ellie is moving on with his best friend, he’s bound to feel some sort of way about it. “If they were together when he came home from that date, maybe he saw them,”

“They were hardly getting it on with the door wide open, Luke, they were playing cards.” You scoff, “Plus, he has no right to be upset, he was literally on a date he told nobody about.”

“He gets in his head about stuff like this,” Luke reasons as he slows the boat, bringing it to a stop in the middle of the water so he can focus, “Talks himself in circles until it makes him so dizzy he does something stupid.”

“You think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t like assuming the worst of my brother, though.”

“Alright, let’s say Jack is only being a dick because he thinks Ellie and Cole are hitting it off,” you stand up now that the boat is steady, kicking your slides off and ambling over to the benches at the back, out from under the cover of the roof. “What are we supposed to do about it, we can hardly keep them apart, keeping track of Jack and Ellie is hard enough without throwing Caufield into the mix. He's sneaky.”

“We’d only technically have to follow Ellie, still,” Luke says as he follows you to the back of the boat, thankful your back is to him when you start to push your skirt down your legs, and you can’t see the way his eyes go three times their usual size, he’s almost anticipating a swat to his chest for when you turn and notice. “They can still hang out, just not one-on-one, one of us could keep an eye on them, take it in turns.”

“That sounds an awful lot like hard work, Hughes,” you huff, taking a seat on the leather bench and stretching your legs out before lounging back, “Can’t your brother just grow a backbone and ask her out? It would save us both a lot of hassle.”

“I’m working on it,” he throws himself onto the bench opposite yours, thinking of all the times he’s tried to cut the conversation with his brother short by just telling him to grow a pair. “I guess you’re right, we can’t stop them being friends, it would be hypocritical.”

“Hypocritical?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re friends.”

“You think we’re friends?”

“You don’t?”

“We watch one movie together and now all of a sudden you think we’re besties?”

“I think we’re friends ‘cause you like my company, you wouldn’t have asked me to bring you out here if you didn’t like being around me.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re deluded.” You smile, pushing your sunglasses down from the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and relaxing back. “I like tanning and being on the water. You’re a glorified chauffeur at this point. Not a good one, either.”

“I got us out here no problems, didn’t I?”

“I had to hold on the whole way, you were throwing me around like a loose can in the trunk of your car.”

“Yeah, well the water was choppy,”

“A good workman never blames his tools, Hughes.” You smile over at him, and the innuendo makes his cheeks go hot. Definitely regretting bringing you out on the water with no escape about now.

“Did you really ask me to bring you out here just to lay out in the sun?” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, watching as you angle your neck to face him. 

“Is that a problem?”

“It is if you’re gonna be a grouch about me being here.”

“I thought you’d be all quiet and brooding like you usually are.”

“Me?” He laughs, “Quiet and brooding?” He doesn’t think anyone has ever used the word quiet to describe him in his life. He knows you can’t be serious - all you’ve done for weeks is blast him for getting on your nerves.

“I’ve literally seen you talk once before this summer.”

What the hell do you mean by that? You barely knew who he was that day he approached you in the club. 

“That’s ‘cause you’d have to notice me to see me talk.”

“You’ve never talked to me.”

He did talk to you. Several times, in fact. That day outside your dorm with Ellie’s gift basket, a couple times in class - but they’re all insignificant, minor exchanges of words he would quite like to forget, if he’s honest. Mumbling and stuttering and, quite frankly, embarrassing, to say the least. A far cry from the confident man he’d like to think he has become. “Why would I talk to you?”

“That’s rude,” you pout, and he straightens up immediately.

“No, I just mean, like,” he waves his arms out in between the two of you, gesturing over and shaking his head. “You’re you. We were never really on the same level for me to be talking to you.”

You bring your glasses back onto the top of your head, pushing your hair out of your face and squinting against the sun to level him with a glare. “Aren’t you a big time athlete?”

“I am now. You wouldn’t have given me the time of day back then.”

“You never gave me a chance to.”

“You could have approached me.” He thinks you’re just biting back for argument’s sake, if he’s honest - there isn’t a chance in hell you ever spared a thought for talking to him or giving him the time of day. You barely even looked his way - and he definitely would have noticed. 

“So could you.” You frown. 

“I tried once.” He distinctly remembers the one time he did approach you, away from class and apart from the first time he met you, dialled up with liquid courage and driven by the way you were dressed as a sexy Patrick Bateman, and he finally felt like having the right conversation starter around his love for American Psycho might have helped him kick something off with you, or at least got you to acknowledge his existence. He would have even taken you calling him Lu again. “At a Halloween party in Freshman year. You blew me off. I barely got a word out before you were storming off.”

“When you were dressed as Scooby Doo?”

His lips part and close repeatedly like a fish bobbing it’s mouth, blinking slowly at you as he realised just what you even having that memory meant. “That’s a weird thing to remember for someone not interested.”

“A giant dork in a dog costume is a pretty hard thing to forget.” You grin satirically, “I never said I wasn’t interested, you just caught me at a bad time and never tried again,”

“You wanted me to try again?”

“I want you to be quiet. Aren’t you due a nap or something?”

“You can’t seriously tell me you asked me to bring you all the way out here just to lie out in the sun and do nothing,” he groans, watching you return back to your previous position, body bathing in the sunlight and sunglasses pushed back down onto your nose. 

“What, did you think we were gonna play mermaids?” He can’t see the roll of your eyes anymore, but he knows when it happens by now, just from your tone of voice. 

“You can do that back at the house, we have loungers out by the pool,”

“It’s not as peaceful as this.” You sigh, “Plus, the trees around the back block the sun this time of day. I’m getting pale cooped up in the club all week, I have catching up to do.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Lay back and relax,” you advise, nodding toward the bench he’s perched on the edge of, reaching your hand down into your tote and blindly tossing the bottle of sunscreen in his general direction, “You could use some sun, too. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you do my back later.”

Luke, surprisingly, folds - doing as he’s told and lounging back into the leather, and he begrudgingly thinks a little too much about how right you are. This is peaceful. The soft whoosh of water against the boat, clear blue skies, no yelling or arguing or people competing around him. Just you, and the sunshine, and the smell of melon-scented sun lotion seeping into his skin.

It isn’t long before he drifts off, his head resting on his folded arm, the heat of the sun warming him like a blanket, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close is your head turned his way, lips parted slightly as you sleep, yourself, skin glistening and your chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. 

When his eyes open again, you’re sat up, holding your hair up with one hand and fanning yourself with the other.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, voice thick with sleep as he sits up, his skin peeling uncomfortably off the leather. 

“I’m hot.” You whine, turning to him with a pout.

He scoffs, resisting the urge to say something corny like, I know you are, before he points out over the side of the boat. “If you look to your right, there’s a large body of water you can cool down in.”

“I’m not getting in there!”

“Why not?”

“Lake monsters, for one,” you scoff, releasing your hair and he watches it fan out over your shoulders in soft waves.

“They’re only native to Scotland, I heard.” Luke stands, looking over the side and into the steady waters to gauge how safe it would be to go in without a vest. The water is still, he’s never had any problems in this part of the lake, and he’s confident the two of you could at least take a dip without there being any concerns - you were a lifeguard, after all, and he’s always been a strong swimmer. 

“Aren’t there fish in here?” You ask, beside him now as you peer over the edge yourself. 

“There’s actually a cool hack to check, do you want me to show you?”

You eye him sceptically but nod, anyway, and he holds his hand out to help you walk to the back of the boat, stepping down onto the stern where it’s easier to reach into the water. 

You’re careful not to let him fall behind you, clearly cautious of the fact that he could push you in. Instead, he stands beside you, squats to reach down over the edge and run his fingers through the ripples that form. He stands back to full height and you squint to look up at him, the sun blaring from over his shoulder and reflecting off his sweat-slicked skin. 

It makes your eyes sparkle again, and it’s almost enough to make him change his mind from what he’s about to do - only, before your powers of hypnosis can work on him for the second time in a matter of hours, he quickly grasps onto your hips and launches the two of you into the water. 

He has the same misguided confidence he had when he squirted you with that hose - a burst of energy that he immediately succumbed to before he could think rationally about it, and it’s the same energy that forces deep and hearty laughter to rumble from his chest as you squeal on your way into the lake. 

The two of you land with a big splash, and emerge simultaneously, you running your hands through your wet hair to push it back out of your face.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“You said you were hot, I was trying to help!”

“You are so dead!” You exclaim, splashing him with a swat of your hand against the water.

“Oh, look, a fish!”

“Ew, no!” You yell, squirming forward to try and dodge it, unintentionally leaping right into Luke, the heat of his firm chest under your flattened palm, an arm curling over his shoulder to steady yourself. 

His arms curl around your body by instinct, wrapping around your waist and holding you against him until you realise his trick, and your hands press on the top of his head until you’re pushing him under the surface with a yell of, “So dead!”

Laughter ripples out of him, from the pits of his stomach to the parting of his lips, and comes out in bubbles against your skin as you hold him down, your body thrashing to get away from his until you break free from his hold, and he rises back from under the water.

“Get back here, you’re not getting away with that!” He calls after you, launching himself forward to catch you.

“No,” you squeal, trying to gain momentum as you leap away, only for his arm to curl around your waist, pulling your squirming body back against him with a splash. “Let me go, you brute!”

“Tell me you’re having fun or you’re getting dunked,” he commands, lips beside your ear as your back is held flush to his chest, your skin still warm from the sun and smooth against his. 

“You dunk me and I’ll leave your ass to the lake monsters,” you warn him, still squirming in his hold.

“Like you could drive the boat, you need me,” your body seems to still the lower his tone gets, succumbing to his hypnotising powers, and he can feel you square your shoulders against him. 

“Yeah right,” even Luke can tell how much your denial is forced from the shiver down your spine, “Jack can do it, how hard could it be?”

“You’d really hijack the boat just to avoid admitting you like my company?” He asks as he lets you go, and you turn immediately in the water to face him. He tilts his head when your gazes meet across the water, and your eyes flicker between his as if trying to read him like a book.

“Today’s been nice,” you admit, with a dramatic roll of your eyes, “Last night, too. Not specific to your company. Just being away from everybody else."

“So that’s the key?” He dares to swim a little closer, just enough that you won’t notice him reducing the proximity between the two of you. “You wanna get me on my own?”

“You-,”

“Wish,” he finishes, your eyes meeting in a steady gaze despite the bobbing of your heads to stay afloat. He’d like to think it’s more than the water that has brought you back this close to him, legs kicking beneath the surface, his hands itching to hold back on your waist to help, “Yeah, I do.”

If he has managed to stay more or less in place while treading water, then it can’t be the current drifting you toward him, and you’re so close now that he could hold you, if his brain could just link to his hands to give them the courage to do so. 

You like being alone with him - you’ve pretty much just admitted so - feel comfortable enough that you change your plans to fit him into them - just like you had last night - you wanted him to talk to you in college, you noticed him, even, enough to remember the fact that he never did. 

There has to be some base level of interest there for you to be this close, in the first place. To move into his house, to agree to spend your summer in his company, to spending more time with him than he’s noticed you spending with your supposed best friend. 

And just as he convinces himself of it, and his thoughts link to the movement of his hands underwater, inching closer to grip at your hips and pull you all the way toward him, a shrill ringing carries all the way from the boat to Luke’s ears, turning both of your attention back to the vehicle.

“Shit, that’s Jack’s ringtone.” He groans, “They’re probably back by now.”

The two of you swim back toward the boat, and he pulls himself up onto the stern before lending you a hand to get up, yourself. 

There are a bunch of texts from his brother.

Where are you at?

Did the demon get you in your sleep?

Where’s the boat?

Please tell me you’re dumping her body and she’s not dumping yours.

You’re dead either way when you get back!

“Shit, we better get back,” he grumbles, rushing to the front of the boat to get it started again. Before you sit beside him, he feels the draping of a towel across his shoulders, and his heart thuds at the small smile you give him when his eyes meet yours.

“Sorry if I got you in trouble.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, nonchalant despite the rampant beating in his chest, and the thought of his brother chewing his ear off when the two of you get back. “You’re worth the headache.”

He winks, teasingly, and his eyes go back to the water before he gets the chance to see your cheeks flush. You’d probably just blame it on sunburn, anyway.

You don’t speak much on the drive back, but Luke can feel your eyes on him, can practically hear your mind whirring with a million thoughts - only because his is doing the same. 

Why does he has to have a brother with the world’s worst timing?

He would have kissed you.

At least, he thinks he would have.

His hands were reaching out. He would have pulled you in by the hips, held you against him, raised so that your faces were finally level, and he would have made a move. He can feel it in his bones, still thrumming with almost-arrogance. A knowing, sure feeling that he can’t shake - one that tells him you would have kissed him back.

But he’ll never know, now.

When the two of you get back, Jack is waiting on the dock, and you gather your things before Luke helps you off the boat. He ushers you past his brother, knowing you’d be down to argue all afternoon, if necessary, but he can take this one on his own. He doesn’t want you hearing the sort of venom he knows his brother can spew out when he’s mad like this.

You brush past Jack on the edge of the dock, who thankfully waits until you’re back at the gate and out of earshot to start on Luke.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

“What, I’m not allowed to have fun when you’re not here?” Luke scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother’s theatrics.

So he took the boat out, it’s really not that deep, he thinks. He’s an adult, he has his license, there really shouldn’t be a problem.

“I know you’ve seen Jennifer’s Body, you shouldn’t be out on the lake on your own with her,”

“Implying she’s a demonic serial killer might be a little over-dramatic, even for you,” Luke huffs as he starts to make his own way back.

 “Trust me, it’s not.” Jack stops him with a hand gripping at his elbow. “Whatever trick she’s pulling on you, Luke, you need to wise up,”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She isn’t interested,” Jack tells him, “She’s using you to pass the time until someone better falls into her lap, and you’re falling straight for it. Letting her convince you to stay behind and miss hanging with the rest of us, taking the boat out on your own, don’t you think it’s weird how she never had any interest in talking to you before it started benefitting her? Before you made it to the big leagues?”

Luke narrows his eyes at his brother, shoulders slumping as the words seem to weigh on them, like a heavy towel draped across to dry him and rub away all the affections you had blessed him with over the past 24 hours.

But it isn’t Jack’s words that are ringing around his head, this time. It’s yours. 

You never talked to me.

You never gave me a chance.

You never tried again.

Maybe you did have some level of interest before. Maybe his intuitions earlier had been right. Maybe it’s still there. 

“It’s none of your business, Jack,” he grumbles, not allowing him a second to rain on this parade. “You don’t even know her.”

“Don��t come crying to me when she breaks your heart, then.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

If you’re thankful for any rule at the house, it’s the rule for knocking before you come into any bedroom. Quinn knocks most mornings to let you know breakfast is being prepared, or before he goes on a store run to ask if there’s anything you or Ellie need. Jack knocks for Ellie, and now Cole does too.

You can always tell when it’s Luke though.

Repeated and incessant, a constant rapping of knuckles against the wood until you answer, instead of any sort of pattern or rhythm.

“Can I come in?” He asks as soon as you open.

“No.” You tell him every time, but to no avail. 

“Thanks,” He swerves into the space beside you, careful not to shove past as he makes his way into the bedroom. “We have a problem.”

“Yeah, they’re called boundaries, Hughes.” You scoff, slamming the door and following him. “You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place.”

“I do.” He frowns, “Own the place. This is my house."

“Your brothers own it, actually.”

“What are you, Michigan Census Bureau?” You mimic the words back to him, your face scrunched tight and your voice as whiney and annoying as it can go, and he pushes his hand in your face, just light enough to cover it and not actually smack you because he doesn’t have a death wish. “The problem. You have to focus,” he clicks his fingers in front of you, and you swat his hand away with a frown.

“Click at me like a dog again and I’ll bite your fingers off.” The look on your face is one he should probably fear, but there’s a nagging instinct he can’t fight to keep pushing your buttons. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but it feels wrong to ignore.

“Is that supposed to turn me on?”

“The problem, Luke, get on with it.”

“Right.” He sighs, throwing himself down on the bed, “I can’t find Cole and Ellie anywhere. I think he took her out.”

“What?” You reach forward and push at his shoulder, “You had one job, Hughes!”

It had been his turn to take watch, as the two of you had agreed the other day out on the water, but it was really starting to get tiring, having to play third wheel to a situation he really didn’t understand, and he needed a recess. Five minutes just to recuperate, he didn’t expect them to make a break for it so quick. 

“I left to make a sandwich! I’m allowed to eat, you can’t expect me to starve it goes against my rights!”

“You’re such an idiot,” You scoff as you rush toward the closet to find something to wear, your plans of a self-care day now flushed down the toilet thanks to Luke’s insatiable appetite. “You couldn’t watch them for an hour without succumbing to malnutrition?”

“Why can’t you be on watch for once?”

“I was doing my nails,” You retort, wiggling your freshly painted fingernails in his face, crimson red to match your toes, and the colour Luke feels his cheeks turning at the sight of them. “Because thanks to someone the gel started lifting after spending my entire afternoon the other day with my hands in a soapy bucket.”

“You’re the one who took the detour to beat Jack home and got my car all dirty.”

“Whatever, turn around.” You’re already lifting your tank over your head before Luke gets the chance to comply, his mouth falling agape before he can control it at the sight of you stood in just your bra and pyjama shorts in front of him. The instruction only registers when your tank top hits him in the face, dropping into his lap so he can look up at your scowl and swivel in his place on the bed. “They’re probably at the mall, she was saying she wanted to go to the art supply store there.”

“So what, we’re gonna just bump into them? Won’t they think it’s weird we’re showing up there after we both said we were staying in today?” He tries not to look into the corner of the room, where he knows the mirror placed there will show him the reflection of you changing - although what’s the use in hiding anything, now? He’s already seen it.

He’s also seen you in your many different bikinis over the past few of weeks. Has been up close and personal, even, holding your body against his out in the lake. 

But your bathing suits aren’t slightly sheer and frilly around the edges, and don’t push up on anything - not that they really need to.

But thinking about that isn’t gonna do him any favours. 

Old men playing chess, animals in the shelter, getting slammed into the boards at high speeds - thinking of those should get his mind back on track.

“Nope, we’re gonna follow them.”

“I thought you said that spying on people is childish.”

“It is when you’re talking about lurking in bushes and hiding behind menus, Luke.”

When he sees you come around the front of the bed to grab your sneakers, he decides on his own terms he can turn back around, careful not to let his eyes linger too long on the expanse of your legs beneath the skirt you’ve now changed into. 

If it wasn’t for the other afternoon spent working together to wash his car, or the evening spent watching movies, sharing a bottle of wine and indulging in those sticky face masks or the way you had quite literally drifted into his arms in the lake the other day, he would probably feel like a creeper for the way his one track mind has persisted. But, despite your efforts to convince him otherwise, he isn’t deluded. 

There’s something brewing between the two of you. 

It’s in the twitch of your lips that now follows every time you roll your eyes, and the magnetised force in which your eyes track him whenever he enters the room, where you had been entirely indifferent before - you’re warming up to him, he can sense it.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I wanna see what it is they keep running off together for,” you shrug as you braid your hair into pigtails in the mirror, your gaze flickering back to him, “Every time we interrupt them, they just keep sneaking back off again. Maybe if we find out what it is they’re doing, we’ll be better at keeping them away from doing it.”

“And how are we supposed to stay hidden?”

“Easy, we have to wear something we usually wouldn’t be caught dead in.”

“I’ve seen you in that exact outfit like twelve times.” He gestures with a lazy hand to the outfit you have on - white t-shirt, navy skirt, socks that go just above your ankles and the same pair of sneakers he must have seen you in every day the last year you were both in college together. 

Not that he was paying that close attention.

“I know. Can I borrow that quarter zip you wore the other day? You know, the one that’s the colour of baby poop? Super hideous, really gross-,”

“Har har, real funny,” he whips the tank top he’s still, for whatever reason, clutching in his hands at you before throwing it onto the bed, and storming toward the door, calling out a, “Let’s go,” over his shoulder and not bothering to check if you’re coming when he starts to make his way downstairs - the echo of your giggling laughter following him down the hallway tells him as much.

—

“Are you sure she said the art supply store?”

Luke’s neck is starting to hurt from craning it above the shelves in search of Ellie’s curls, this being the second art store the two of you have checked. Somehow he’s the one looking out while you peruse the shop, now cooing at a section of crotchet animal kits and pointing them out until he mutters out some half-hearted cute, or nice.

“There aren’t many things I could have confused it for, Luke, unless you know of anything that rhymes with art supplies?” You pick up one of the kits, turning it to assess the difficulty by the pictures on the back before putting it back on the shelf.

“Maybe she said she had parts to buy?”

“Alright, smartass,” You scoff, shouldering past him to make your way toward the exit, clearly having no luck in finding them here. She definitely wouldn’t have parts to buy for anything, she’s hardly Fix-It Felix. “You can buy me lunch and we’ll see if she’s put anything on her story yet.”

“I’m starting to think they’re not even at the mall and you’ve lured me out of the house under false pretences for free food.” The diffidence he’s giving is entirely forced as he drags his feet behind you, following you out of the store. “If you wanted me to take you on a date, you could have just asked. It was probably the stop for a smoothie that had us missing them in the first place.”

You gasp, and before he has the opportunity to retort with something just as annoying, you grab his hand and tug him with you behind one of the giant plants that are beside the coffee stand, keeping a hold of him as you poke your head around the corner.

“There they are,” you whisper back, your fingers still clutching at his as he crowds into the same space to make sure he too is hidden behind the sprawling leaves.

“Oh so hiding behind bushes is alright if it’s your idea?”

“Shh,” you frown, your hand releasing his and pressing over his mouth, “They’ll hear you, Loud Mouth,” and his eyes follow the pointed finger on your other hand to where Ellie and Cole are walking together toward the store you and Luke just left - side by side, sodas in hand, smiling and laughing and nudging at each other. 

In better circumstances, he’d be thinking about how he’s pressed to your back, bending to accommodate for the height difference, your head tilted to make room for his to lean in for a better look, and your hand still resting on his face, not really covering his mouth but more caressing his jaw in an absentminded fashion as you watch the two of them. 

But all he can think about, disturbingly enough, is his brother - and how hurt he’d be to see what’s happening between his supposed best friends. 

“We’re following them, right?” He asks lowly, his face not too far from yours, and when you turn your head to the side to look at him, he feels like your gaze is softer than usual when it takes in how hardened and dark his is.

“Definitely,” you agree, stepping away from him and turning to face him properly. “If you saw me out of the corner of your eye, you wouldn’t know it was me, right?”

Wrong, Luke thinks, but that’s only because he’d be able to pick you out of a line up in a pitch black room by now - blind folded, spun around a few times for good measure and facing the wrong way.

When he had found a Mets jersey on the rack in the Goodwill you had dragged him to in search of a disguise, and your words from earlier about not being caught dead in something had rang in his head, he had thought it was perfect. And then you had waltzed over with the same jersey, and your eyes had lit up.

“We can’t wear the same thing,” he frowned, unable to hold the weight of the expression for too long when he saw just how excited you were getting. “That’s hardly blending in."

“No, it’s perfect!” You exclaimed, “Ellie would never expect me to match anyone!”

He had thought the shirts were too much before you threw in the identical orange baseball caps you had found, and at that point he was cursing whatever scorned woman it was that dumped all her ex’s shit into the thrift store.

The two of you look cute in your matching gear, he can’t deny that, he just wishes you could have found something that made him feel a little less dirty, maybe Wolverine blue and yellow, if you were gonna dress up as a couple.

Luke doesn’t like how you still make his throat dry in Mets gear.

He reaches out to adjust the cap on your head, pulling the bill down to cast more of a shadow over your face, and combining that with the way your braids, the ones you said you’d never usually wear but seem to suit you anyway, come out the bottom of either side of the cap, he figures anyone else would have a hard time immediately placing you. “Probably not,” he shrugs, making sure to keep an eye on the apparent lovebirds still hovering in the entrance of the art store. 

“Great.” You smile victoriously, “Put your arm around me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” You scoff, “I’m hardly asking you to ravage me outside the Pretzel Peddler, Hughes, make haste,” you shoo him forward, taking control of the situation and forcing yourself under his arm as the two of you stumble back toward the art store. 

Remaining incognito isn’t entirely hard when the two of you are moving as one, you stuffed under his arm and him able to hide his face in the top of your head if he thinks either Cole or Ellie are likely to see you.

Following them is easy, able to maintain a short enough distance that you can both eavesdrop on their minimal conversation, and there isn’t really a problem until they break apart. 

Ellie goes toward the back of the store, Cole towards the front, and you whisper to Luke that it might be best for you to break apart, too - if you both follow one of them, the other is more likely to catch you - and so you drift after Cole, and he drifts after Ellie, and while the two of you can still see each other, there are a lot of unidentifiable hand gestures in place of where you can no longer talk. That is, until Cole heads further down the other end of the store, and you slip completely out of view.

It’s less fun, spying this way, watching as Ellie browses the shelves, looking over all the sketchbooks until she finds the right one - as if he hasn’t seen a stack of around 5 of them in their room back at the house - swerving so fast on her feet that Luke stumbles on his own to get away, rushing around the bend before she can see him. 

When he rounds the corner of the aisle and sees you heading straight for him, eyes wide and step rushed, he rushes, too, tripping forward until the two of you collide, your stance thankfully much sturdier than his. You grab him by his shirt to make sure he’s steady on his feet before you pull him with you as you fall against the shelf behind you, standing on your tip toes and tugging him down to meet your lips with a surprised grunt.

What the fuck?

Your hands move up to cup at either side of his face, holding him in place as you angle to slot the bill of your cap to the side of his so they don’t bump and fall off, and he loses himself in the warmth of your kiss before he even realises that he’s halfway gone. Your hands cover both of your profiles, and Luke thinks that if you are caught, there’s no way for them to identify the two of you unless Ellie has the orange-red colour and long, supposedly almond - or so you had told him - shape of your nails memorised. Because who would pay such close attention to something like that?

A hand falls to your hip, another to your waist, and he’s teasing your back into an arch with his touch, only distantly hearing surprised exclamations of oh fuck, and sorry, from either side of the aisle.

He pays no mind to the sound of rushed, retreating footsteps, trying to press his tongue between your lips for a further taste of very berry smoothie and sugary balm that he can feel the stickiness of, that he wants his lips to be coated in forever.

He savours the seconds after, where you drag out the show just to make sure Ellie and Cole have actually disappeared, and he pushes his luck one more time, deepening the kiss until you pull away, your hands on his chest shoving purposefully. 

“What was that for?” He asks, breathless and dazed as he takes in your appearance, lips swollen and wet by his doing, pupils dilated.

“PDA makes people uncomfortable, right?” you shrug, like it’s the most obvious explanation for the way you just kissed the life out of him. Like there was nothing else you possibly could have done to get out of that predicament. And his heart thumps as he remembers that those are his words, uttered in a tease way back in the restaurant at the club. “They were hardly gonna stick around and watch, I don’t have Caufield down as a voyeur.”

Luke watches as your eyes drop briefly to his lips, and he swears he sees the flicker of a smile twitch at the corners of your mouth. His fingers come up by instinct, pressing tentatively at the sticky residue that coats the outline of them.

“You tell anyone I did that and I’ll gut you like a fish, Hughes.”

He nods, still in a daze, if he’s honest, and stays in place while you nudge past him to follow in the direction where Ellie and Cole disappeared. 

When he does finally come to, shaking his head to pull himself out of the way his brain is trying to relive the last few minutes, he follows, too - maybe less discreet in his movements, this time, in the hopes that another close call might just gain him another kiss, too.

You’d like to think you have good intuition when it comes to others and their actions. You can see straight through people, a shift in their expression, a twitch in their smile, a glint in their eye - it makes you protective of the people you surround yourself with, keeping only a close-knit group of friends, and keeping everyone else at arms length. 

Friends who you know when they’re upset, or down, need someone around, or need space. It’s how you know Luke has been avoiding you all week, and how you know even more just to leave him to it. 

Not that you’re friends.

It started with long days at the rink - not that you lament his training, but you know he hadn’t been that deep into his regimen so far this summer. Quinn had been the one to drop you off at the club that last couple of days, and Luke hadn’t joined the group when they had played a round of golf and stopped by the bar for some refreshments after.

You’ve seen him around the house still, usually shooting off to God-knows-where, eyes locking in the hall as he passes you like a ship in the night, until he shifts his gaze with an awkward smile.

If he wants to be childish about one stupid, meaningless kiss, you have no choice but to let him.

You’d hardly forced yourself on him. He could have pushed you off if he didn’t want it. Instead, he’d pulled you even closer, even tried to slip you some tongue! And it had kind of been his suggestion in the first place.

You wouldn’t be so bothered about it if you had something to do with Ellie gone for the next week - her little sister’s birthday taking precedent over your summer plans, and the family taking a trip out of state. You can’t even go out, trapped inside due to the unforeseen storm - and you hate thunder, it reminds you too much of all those tumultuous nights locked in your room, listening to your parents fighting, the wind and rain doing little to drown it all out.

But all you have is the house, and with the house comes the movies - the ones he had promised to watch with you.

You had both written down your top ten, yours in his notes, and his in yours, and the damn page has been haunting you every time you unlock your phone. And that’s how you’ve given in so easily. It has nothing to do with the fact you miss him - it’s just pure boredom and curiosity that has you watching Happy Gilmore on your own on a Friday night.

You don’t miss him.

That would be ridiculous.

Luke Hughes is annoying. 

His taste of movies is annoying.

The fact that won’t talk to you is annoying.

“Hey, I thought we were gonna watch this together.”

Or not.

Luke leans against the doorway, possessing the kind of casual indifference that only a man could, frowning and pouting as if he’s not the sole reason you’re cooped up on your own watching a damn movie about golf of all things.

“Thought you were avoiding me,” you bite back, arms crossed over your chest and brows furrowed in frustration. 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” He asks as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him, your eyes darting straight to long, slender fingers wrapped around the handle. 

“Because you kissed me, and then all of a sudden started acting like I don’t exist to you.” You accuse with a pointed glare, figuring one of you has to have the guts to talk about it. 

“Actually, you kissed me,” he smirks, perching himself on the edge of your bed, “And then told me in graphic detail you’d pretty much murder me if I ever spoke about it again, so I,” he frowns, “Didn’t.”

You can’t help but scowl at how stupid that sounds. He can’t seriously think you would murder him. If you were the murdering type in the first place, you’d have done it long ago. You even tell him as much.

“I don’t know, you had this scary look in your eye, kind of didn’t want to test that theory,” he shrugs, reaching in the pocket of his hoodie and throwing a bag over to you. 

M&Ms. Your favourite.

“You gonna scoot over?” He asks, raising a brow and widening his eyes as if he’s pleading, as if you’ve been the one giving him the cold shoulder.

You roll your eyes and shuffle across the bed, making room for him beside you that he occupies way too quick, legs stretching out in front of him, all the way down the bed, as he gets comfortable.

You try to focus on the movie, as if you have any clue what’s been happening so far, anyway, but you can see him out of the corner of your eye, an arm tucked behind his head, his chest stretched out, and his jaw tensing as he chews on the candy he’s already stealing from you.

He’s had a haircut. Shorter on the sides, and it makes his face look a little more defined. Still curly - maybe even curlier - and softer than before, in a way that you’d want to run your hands through it, if you were a crazy person, of course.

And he smells good, too.

You’re starting to think this has been his plan all along - for distance to make your wretched heart grow fonder, or whatever - and you find yourself tensing your own jaw as you grind your teeth and try to tune back into whatever Adam Sandler is yapping about. 

“I sort of was avoiding you,” he admits, and you can still see him out of the corner of your eye, looking down at you, now, although you don’t look back.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, shifting a little to face you more, “I thought you might have felt weird about kissing me.”

“I didn’t.” 

“Okay then.”

“Alright.”

“We can talk about it, if you want?” He suggests, and that’s finally when you look at him, with his lips twisted nervously and his brow raised, anticipating your response. 

What’s there to even talk about? You kissed him as a distraction. He knows that. You know that. 

“I’m good.” You tell him, a short, forced smile to ease the tension before he smiles back.

“I know something we can talk about,” he leans in, “Considering how little you care about this movie.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“How you had a big fat crush on me in college,” he smirks, eyes darting between yours, the flash from the tv screen highlighting all the different hues of blues and greens in his irises.

He’s not gonna catch you out, though.

“You’re delusional.” You tell him, your own eyes narrowing, almost like a defence mechanism. He seems to be quite good at reading you, and you’re not letting him in that easy.

“So you keep saying,” he pouts, pensively, “But then it’s you never talked to me, Luke, and I remember small random details about you, Luke!”

“I don’t sound like that,” you frown, taking slight offence to the squeaky voice he puts on, more than likely to distract you from the closing distance. He speaks again before you can realise you really should be putting more effort into denying such ridiculous accusations, before he completely slanders your good name. 

“You’ve been avoiding me all week and I missed you, Luke-,”

You don’t know why your mouth is all of a sudden on his, but if you take a second to think about it, you’ll spiral out. His lips are soft, and your noses slot perfectly beside each other - no painful bumps or clumsy collisions. Just a plain, normal kiss between two people who tolerate each other. That’s all.

When you part, his eyes drift open softly, his lashes - infuriatingly long as they are - flutter open, and his irises glaze over as if he’s under a spell. 

“That was-,”

“To shut you up,” you mutter, rolling your own eyes and forcing a scowl. “You were starting to give me a headache.”

He nods, that dumb look still in his eyes, and you feel your jaw clenching almost achingly at how it makes you feel.

“And I care very deeply about Gilmore’s happiness, so if you could cut it out with your yapping, I’d really appreciate it.”

“His name is Happy-,”

“I didn’t ask.”

When Luke is on the ice, most of the noise around him usually tunes itself out. Aside from the scrape of his skates, and the thudding of his heart, he can usually dial out the crowd, the chanting, the booing, the chirping, whatever it may be - all distractions to the end goal.

The one noise he never can ignore, though, is that of the goal horn, blearing throughout the arena, bouncing off of every corner until it hits him like a freight train, and he thinks they ring a little louder when it’s him that scores.

And with that horn, he can fine tune himself back into his surroundings. To shouts and cheers and applause, a sea of red and white jerseys jumping up, the Devils logo brandished across their chests, and his work being praised by the masses.

He somehow has the power to zero in on you, too. Arms raised, up a little in the stands, not too far that you’re just a speck, but not too close that you’d be a distraction.

A wide smile on your face, adoration in your eyes, and 43 on your arm. 

“Luke!” Your lips read, drowned out by the crowd, but he can still make it out, calling out to him like you’re the only other person in the room. “C’mon, Luke!” 

He smiles, as big as he ever has before, and points straight at you, dropping a wink like you could possibly catch it from out in the stands, and taking a bow.

“Hughes, you big lump, wake up!”

He groans as he’s shaken from his sleep, soft hands gripping at his arms and jolting him awake.

“What?” He doesn’t open his eyes, not yet, but he thinks it’s the weight of his furrowed eyebrows keeping them closed. 

“I need a favour,” you whisper.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s 2am. I don’t do favours before 9.”

“C’mon, please?” He opens one eye to your pleading face, and then another, when he catches the teary reflection of the moonlight in your eyes.

“What is it?” He straightens up, rubbing the sleep from his eyelids and straining to make the rest of you out in the dark. 

“I need you to look at the window in my room, it’s whistling.”

“It’s just the storm, it gets like that when it’s windy,” he sighs, sinking back down a little into his pillows. He had thought you were in danger, or something.

“Can’t you fix it?” You plead, soft fingers still squeezing a little at his bicep, and his chest starts to feel heavy just from the tone of your voice - but it’s 2am. You had him up until midnight watching Wall-E, and he has a morning skate with his dad at 6am. 

“Do I look like a handyman?” He huffs, also a little aggrieved at the fact you had disrupted his rather nice dream. “Just go to sleep and ignore it.”

“I can’t.” You whine, “I can’t sleep if there’s a storm, they freak me out. And I can’t ignore it when it’s literally screaming at me through a broken window. And I’m on my own in there, it’s scary.”

Luke presses his palm firm into the socket of his closed eyes, trying to rub away the exhaustion that is urging every fibre of his being to fall straight back asleep. 

He can’t fix the window. It’s been like that for as long as him and his brothers have lived here - always the dud room left to whoever rocks up last to the house - and even if he could, he’s comfortable, and warm, and if his bare feet touch the cold, hardwood floor, he won’t be able to get himself to drift back off. 

He sighs, shuffling beneath the sheets before grasping them and flipping them over, making room beside him and muttering a grumpy, demanding, “Get in.”

“Luke,” you whine, and he can see your pout even through his closed eyes - lips plump and plush and if he gets even a glimpse he’s going to start thinking about kissing them, again. “You’re really not gonna help me?”

“I don’t offer my super comfy bed up to just anybody,” he reasons, making a little more room, “C’mon, you can barely hear the rain in here, it’s this or the couch downstairs.”

“Can’t you take the couch and I take your comfy bed?”

Luke opens one eye to look at you, eyes glimmering nervously in the crack of moonlight that sneaks through the curtains, lip tugged between your teeth, and relents, immediately. “Do you want me to take the couch?”

He could probably go sleep in your bed, if you’re really that bothered. He doesn’t do too well with noises while he sleeps, but he will if he has to - if that’s what makes you feel better. But you had just said it was scary being alone, and he’s counting on that to make a case for himself to keep his super comfy bed in his whistle-less bedroom.

“No,” you grumble, shoving at his arm, “Move over a little more.”

He relents, making as much room as he can for you to crawl into his bed before he flips the sheets back over on top of you, waiting for you to get comfortable before he melts back into place.

His legs extending into yours is purely accidental, but he doesn’t move them when you don’t flinch away, taking a second to adjust his positioning until he realises something. 

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“Neither are you.” You mumble back straight away, turning to face him, the bare skin of your calves brushing his as you move.

“It’s my bed,” he shrugs, his body on its side and his arm beneath his pillow, the space cramped now that you’re both squeezed in, and he’s trying to give you room, but he swears you have space on the other side. “I don’t wear pants to bed.”

“I don’t either.” 

“What if there’s a fire?”

“I think I’d rather succumb to the flames than let your brothers see me in my panties.”

He just hums, sleepily, trying not to overthink how you wouldn’t mind him seeing you in them. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the press of your skin to his. 

“Do you want me to go put pants on, Luke, would that make you happy?”

“Don’t ask such a ridiculous question.” He huffs, sinking into his pillows and getting himself back into the right position to drop back off into a deep slumber. “Go to sleep.”

The soft patter of rain against the window lulls him, and he slowly feels you relax beside him, a few minutes of silence settling between the two of you - comforting and still - before you break it. 

“Luke?” You whisper, this time barely audible, like you don’t even want to be heard - and it’s that thought that has him ignoring you, sleep clutching his eyes closed anyway, so close to drifting back off. 

He feels your body shuffle against the mattress, still not enough to lure him back into full consciousness, but he’s aware enough to know your every move.

And he’d like to think he can predict them, imagining you shuffling to get comfy and hoping he’s too deep in his sleep to care if you nudge him while doing so.

But he could never predict the soft press of your lips to the corner of his mouth, and the gentle, almost non-existent muttering of a thank you against his skin. 

He only lets himself smile when he can feel you settle back into the bed, body laid beside him, bare legs brushing against his under the sheets.

You are so welcome, he thinks, that soft smile curving into something much deeper as he succumbs to sleep, body melting into an oozy, gooey, consuming mess beside your own. 

Luke should have known you’d get your own back on him for the whole avoiding thing.

The two of you had been sweet for a solid week, movie nights every other night, especially after you had shared his bed, you’d even made him lunch to come back to the day after. And he had started driving you to and from work, again.

And it’s the drive home from work one day that he sees something in you switch.

“It’s just gonna be a couple people, you’ll probably even know some of the girls from college.”

“It’s your house, Luke, you don’t have to explain your parties to me.” You shift your knees back to face the dash, where they had just been angled toward him, and you cross your arms against your chest. 

“We can pick back up on movie night tomorrow, I don’t have any training all day so we can do a marathon, if you want.”

“Ellie’s back today, so I don’t know.”

He frowns, tightening his fingers around the wheel as he watches you retreat all of a sudden, like you’re annoyed with him, or something.

And then as soon as he pulls up outside the house, you’re climbing out of the car before he even has a chance to come around and open the door for you, storming up the driveway and disappearing inside.

He tries not to let it get to him. Tries to lose himself in the festivities of the night - a house party thrown on whim at the discovery that most of the brothers’ mutual friends were in town. He was excited to see his boys from Michigan, Ethan, Dylan, Luca and Jacob, who all climb out of Ethan’s truck with a 6-pack in hand, and crowd around Luke, embracing him with brotherly pats on his back and ushering him into the kitchen to partake in their pre game ritual - a round of shots to line their stomachs. 

He still keeps a close eye on you once the party is underway. Watches you and Ellie, watches when Cole joins the two of you, and you laugh at whatever dumb jokes he’s trying to tell you. Watches your gaze flicker his way throughout the night, and leave just as quickly, and he has to shrug off the chirps of his friends when they notice, too.

He later watches you catch up with a couple of the girls coming from your sorority, and that’s around the time he loses you, lost in a round of beer pong that fills his bladder quicker than he could have anticipated.

He excuses himself up to his room, the music dying down the further upstairs he gets, and relieves himself with an inebriated bop of his head to whatever melody he can still hear blasting through the floorboards. 

He zips his jeans back up, and ambles over to the sink, washing his hands under the faucet until the sound of his door opening has his heart falling into the pit of his stomach. 

“Jesus,” he gasps, shutting off the water and turning to face where you’re stepping into the room and closing the door behind yourself. “You ever heard of knocking? What are you doing upstairs?”

“Was just checking you weren’t like jerking off in here or something,”

“What if I was, were you planning on watching?”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pulling a face to feign some sort of offence, but Luke watches as you fidget, tucking your hair behind your ears and shuffling on your feet. 

“Like you’ve been watching me all night,” he smirks, tossing the towel he had used to dry his hands back onto the hook and taking a step into your space, backing you against the counter, your shoes no longer shuffling along the floor. It feels like it’s been days now that you’ve been off with him, even though it’s been a mere few hours, but in those hours, he’s had a lot of time to think about your relationship, or lack thereof.  “Think I haven’t seen you? Can’t take those pretty eyes off of me, can you?”

He’d first noticed when you came downstairs with Ellie, earlier, pinned to her side and gossiping about something, no doubt catching up on her week away. You kept glancing his way, subtly at first, eyes darting over and shifting back just as quick to your best friend, faking interest and nodding along until you looked back over. Your efforts were more noticeable as the two of you moved around different corners of the room, interacting with different groups and still meeting eyes across the expanse of space between you and him. 

His heart jumped every time.

And then Victoria had arrived, just before he had been recruited to play beer pong - an old hookup from his college days. She had always been more of a friend than anything else, and Luke had no interest in reigniting whatever dampened spark they once had, she has a boyfriend now, anyway, but when her hand grazed his arm, and he looked over to see your glare zeroed in on the exact spot she was touching him, he thought he’d have a little fun with it.

Nothing too extreme, a few loud laughs, a little longer spent with her than initially anticipated, but she had been more than happy to regale him with stories about her new relationship, so pretending to pay attention didn’t seem like such a bad idea if it was going to make you do something.

He had a sneaking suspicion as to what had turned your mood, earlier, and he was about to have fun testing his theory - that you had been jealous at the mere mention of other girls being at the house.

He didn’t think it would culminate in you following him all the way up to his room, confronting him in his bathroom with nobody else around, but he’s hardly mad about it, now.

“Shut up,” you scowl, but your tone is weak, and Luke knows he’s got you. Chin tilted up to meet his eyes in defiance, gaze locked on his as he moves closer, and he’s thankful, for the first time tonight, that the boys had forced him to take those shots when the party started.

He wouldn’t have the courage to challenge you like this, otherwise - an inebriated cockiness taking over, puffing out his chest and filling him with the same sort of misplaced bravado he’s been convincing himself to muster all week.

“You already know how to make me.” He mutters, lowly, the proximity of your face to his giving his tone a breathiness that he hopes comes across more seductive than slurred. His mind is stuck on that kiss from the other night, when he had apparently irritated you so much that you felt that was your only option. 

You blink slow, eyes dropping to his lips, and before he can blink, himself, you close the distance.

This is different to before - incomparable to a kiss given just to hide your faces, one just to stop him from talking and another when you had thought he wasn’t conscious. 

This is heated, and intentional, and intense. 

Dainty fingers clutch at the front of his shirt, pinching slightly at his skin before taking a hold of the fabric, and there’s no possible way for you to play this off as something less.

Your lips are firm, slotted against his, and moving before he knows it - his tongue licking at the seams until they part, and you grant him access to the sweet taste of fruity liquor inside your mouth. 

Large hands take residence on your hips, sliding daringly backward until he’s gripping at your ass, long fingers stretching down to trace the hem of your skirt, denim thick but not immune to his absentminded efforts to chase the feeling of more. 

He’s expecting you to come to your senses, anticipating the grip of your hands to turn into a shove, and the sweetness of your taste to turn sour when you start to yell at him, fire in your eyes and venom on your tongue - but all he hears is you moaning into his mouth, all he feels is the press of your torso against his as your back arches into his touch, his fingertips grazing the top of your thigh as your skirt moves in his hold.

He’s greedy with the way he touches you after that, hands cupping, fingers kneading, nails scratching even just to leave his mark, and he barely notices yours slipping down, down, down until the cold press of your fingertips grazes his abdomen, stomach tensing at your touch. 

He groans a little, his movements halting as you manage to distract him from his ministrations, using the leverage you have on his body to press and push until your lips part - swollen and wet with his spit.

His heart thuds in his chest, thump thump thump echoing in his head as he watches you - holds his breath and stares at you with his own lips parted, the taste of you lingering in a way he doesn’t want to swallow too soon. 

He waits for your face to turn, for that hypnotised look in your eyes to turn into a glare, the distance between you bringing some much needed clarity - but the shift never comes.

Instead, you push yourself away from the counter, and he finds himself looking straight down as your hands make their way back to the hard ridges of his stomach.

“What are you doing?” He stutters as your fingers start to tickle lower.

“I wanna give you a hand.”

“Give me-,” he splutters, his own hand stopping yours in its tracks. “Am I dreaming right now? Is this a trick?”

“No,” you persist, pushing your hands despite his weak, half-hearted efforts to stop them. “You did me a favour, why can’t I do one back?” 

“Because that’s not-,” He can’t believe he’s trying to turn this down, the lump in his throat protesting the words that try to come up. You just kissed him. You just let him hike your skirt up and push you against the bathroom counter, let his fingers go so far beyond the realm of reality that he thinks he’s still lost in a dream - and he can’t figure out why he’s even questioning it, anymore. “There’s a pretty big difference between me letting you sleep in my bed and you jerking me off,”

“It’s only a big deal if you make it one, Luke.” You shrug, pausing at the waistband of his pants. Every nerve from his ribs to his toes tingles, the teasing touch of the tips of your fingers sparking something unshakable within him. “Do you want me to help you out or not?”

“Are you high or something?”

“No,” you chuckle, meeting his eyes again - sparkling and beautiful, a hidden vulnerability flashing across them at the insistence of his hesitant rejection. “Are you? You’re really gonna turn me down to just jack yourself off in here on your own?”

“Please don’t call it that.” He pleads, the last thing he needs right now is any sort of reminder of his brother. Not when you have your hands on him. Not when you could conceivably get on your knees right before him. Not when his deepest darkest fantasies could play out after so many years of pining after you. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He lets out a panicked stammer. “Not no. I meant no, like no to your question, not no period.” 

“What?” You step back with a frustrated huff, taking your hands away, close enough still that he can reach out and grab them, holding them between the both of you.

“I want-,” Good lord, he wants a lot. He can still taste you on his tongue, still feel the press of your kiss on his own swollen lips, and his head is spinning so far out of control he doesn’t think he’ll be able to knock any sense back into it any time soon. “Are you sure?”

“Oh my God, Hughes, just pull your pants down and let’s get on with it.”

Luke pulls you in for one more kiss before he relinquishes all control, and hums and whines as you work his zipper down, the sound bouncing off the tiles and reverberating around his skull.

He doesn’t know how you can so easily go back to normal after. 

He can’t understand how you could just lift yourself back onto your feet when the two of you were finished, adjust your skirt around your hips, and leave him alone in the bathroom, panting, flushed and barely coherent, all evidence of your tryst swallowed down like the moans you had forced him to suppress - all except the faint bruises on the lowest part of his stomach that you had sucked into his skin, the ones he hopes grow darker as the days go on, the ones he feels pulsing as he rejoins his friends in the kitchen. 

He had once again promised not to utter a word to anyone - but it doesn’t stop the thousands of them that swirl around his brain after, the ones that linger there all through the night, resurface through the week, and etch themselves into the very core of his being. 

Thousands of words in hundreds of languages, mixing to form romanticised poems he might never understand.

All he does understand, is that he’s so far gone for you now, it isn’t even funny. 

Far gone is starting to seem like the understatement of the century.

Luke can’t get enough of being around you, and it’s so detached now from the two of you only ever hanging out to scheme about Jack and Ellie that he can’t even remember the last efforts you made to do anything about their relationship.

He’s now just focused on whatever relationship the two of you are building between yourselves.

Watching movies in his bed, comparing commentary on your favourites, asking for his opinion, and him asking for yours. And he likes how gentle you are with the things he loves. Movies are kind of his thing, and sharing them with someone else - sitting and watching them and waiting for some kind of reaction, good or bad - could be intimidating with anyone else. 

But you’re so attentive. You ask questions, you remember things, and you try to understand why he might love a film, and try to see things from his perspective, rather than stamping your own opinion over his and ruling anything out.

You’re open-minded, even though you pretend not to be. You’d given Happy Gilmore a second chance, even, and Luke never had you pegged as the second chance type.

You talk a lot more to him on your drives to and from work - not that you didn’t talk before, but this is different, entirely. You have actual discussions, around more than just what’s happening at the house, or what’s happening at work. 

The two of you talk about college, about your major, your plans for after school. You talk about hockey, about Jersey, about his friends and teammates back there, and the life he’s built away from the one you pretend you never knew. 

And the way he feels about you starts to consume him in ways he never thought possible. In ways that make him sort of understand where Jack had been coming from all those years, when he’d never shut up about his feelings for Ellie, and how he thought about her all the time, and wanted to be with her 24/7.

It’s what has him hovering around at the club after he and Quinn had played a round of golf, waiting outside for Quinn to give the keys back for their caddy, and spotting you chatting to Cara at the side door to the restaurant.

He waves as soon as you see him, and his heart jumps when you immediately excuse yourself to skip over, a bright smile on your face that he never thought could be directed his way.

“Hey!” You greet him, cheerily, ponytail swaying behind you as you come to a stop in front of him. 

“What time are you getting off?” He asks, foregoing any small talk and cutting straight to the chase. 

“I’m on the lunch shift today, so 3,” you pout, checking the watch on your wrist that he knows reads just past 1. “You don’t have to wait around though, I can catch a ride from somebody else,”

“No, I’ll take you home.” He assures you, “I need to go to the mall, I’ve got to get a present for a baby shower, I was hoping you’d help me.”

“I don’t know how much help I’d be, babies give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, same,” he chuckles, “Maybe we could grab dinner or something, instead?”

“I was gonna pick up a dress for the party next week, so maybe we could do that first?”

“And then dinner?” He asks, a hopeful raise of his eyebrows that is spurred on by the way you’re biting back a smile.

“Yes, Luke, then dinner.” You chuckle, beaming up at him when his face breaks out into a full-blown grin.

“Sick,” he replies, “Yeah, cool,” he nods as he watches you step away, amusement gleaming in your eyes, “I’ll be out here at 3.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Luke watches as you make your way back to the side door of the restaurant, meeting your eye when you look back at him and relishing in the way he can catch the flush of your cheeks all the way from the fountain. 

He smiles to himself as he turns on one foot, light in his step and light in his head, nodding to the guy who is painting the railings leading up to the club foyer and swinging on his feet as he waits for his brother.

If he had a little less self-awareness, he thinks he could start leaping and swinging from the nearest lamp post like a scene straight out of Singing In The Rain.

He hasn’t felt elation like this in a long time.

He hadn’t uttered the word, exactly, but this is as close to a date as he might get, and his entire body is buzzing at the thought of it. 

“Are you coming?” Quinn calls out as he descends the steps at the front of the club, keys in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

“Uhh,” Luke drags out as he not-so-subtly looks back to where you and Cara are talking by the side door. “I think I’m gonna check out the gym.”

“You know it’s just a bunch of old guys on machines in there, right? Plus, I thought we were going in the morning with the rest of the guys?”

“Right,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I meant the pool.”

“You hate indoor pools.”

“The sauna?”

“Your little crush is getting out of hand, huh?” Quinn chuckles, elbowing at Luke’s side to get his attention back.

“It’s not a crush.” Luke huffs, lips pouted as he tears his eyes away from you with great effort. 

“I think we’re past the point of you denying it, Luke,” his older brother gestures to the wall Luke had been staring at when he came outside, “You’re literally watching paint dry to pass the time until she finishes work-,”

“No, I mean like I had a crush on her,” Luke sighs, “Before this summer, when I just thought she was pretty and hot and I could never pluck up the courage to do anything about it. It doesn’t feel like a crush anymore. Or maybe it does, I don’t know, I kinda feel like she’s crushing me, to be honest.”

He gives a nervous laugh when he says it, but it’s not enough to cover up the way he really feels - not when it comes to his big brother, who puts his keys back in his pocket just so he can spare a hand to reach out and pinch at Luke’s cheeks, teasing, “Lukey’s in love,” before he swats him away.

“Hardly,” he scoffs in denial, although he doesn’t really understand why he’s fighting the thought of it so hard.

It’s not exactly a preposterous idea. Love might be an overestimation - you haven’t exactly let him all the way in - but like seems like an understatement. Obsessed seems dramatic. Infatuated?

“I don’t know, I like spending time with her, like talking to her, is all,” he shrugs. He likes a lot more than that, but confiding in Quinn after how his last encounter with Jack about the whole thing had gone has his back up, a little. “I feel like she might like me too.”

It’s the first time he’s said it aloud to anyone else. He’s chirped you about it enough - taken note of the various shades of pink he can flush your cheeks when he does, darker and darker as the days go on - but he’s been abiding by your request of staying quiet about any of the specifics.

And it’s been hard. Oversharing is kind of his thing, usually, and keeping information from his brothers isn’t exactly something he loves doing, not when he’s been cursing Jack all summer for doing the same.

“Jack thinks she’s using me. He doesn’t like her.”

“Jack doesn’t like that he can’t beat her. Like he can fire a thousand shots at her and nothing goes in, he isn’t used to that.”

“Oh, but I am?” Luke scoffs, although he isn’t entirely sure if he is offended. “Are you calling me a loser?”

“No, Luke, I’m not calling you a loser.” He chuckles. “It’s like hockey, right, you and me, we chase people down. Don’t give in until we’re caught up and we can disarm someone. That isn’t Jack’s game. He’s usually the one being chased, you know? Usually the one ahead.”

“He’s not that bad on the other side of the blue line,” Luke scoffs, although he gets where his eldest brother is coming from. He hasn’t really thought about it in that context - that you and Jack don’t get along because you’re alike - but it makes sense now that he thinks about it.

“He’s not like you, though. You get some weird thrill out of going after people you have no business going after, you have since you were younger, taking down kids 4 or 5 years older than you and twice the size for fun. Makes sense you’d want someone so far out of your league.”

Luke looks back over to where you’re still stood with Cara, and just manages to catch your eye before you look away, pretending he hadn’t caught you. The smile erupts slowly onto his features, close-lipped and soft, but he feels the joy of it all throughout his body. 

“I think I’m wearing her down.”

Stolen glances across whatever room the two of you happen to be in, smiles that you’ve only ever sent his way, feather-light but purposeful kisses on the corner of his mouth when you think he’s asleep, seeking him out in his bathroom after seeing him with someone else - yeah, he’s getting there.

“Good for you, Luke,” Quinn chuckles, patting his brother on the back, “As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He does. At least he thinks so. 

You feel weird.

It’s the only word you can think to describe the mood you’ve been in for the past week.

Well, weird and off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, either, but it’s throwing you off your game. 

There had been a second the other day where you had thought you might have gotten to the bottom of things - when you’d come inside from sunbathing with Ellie and had found Luke in his room, packing a bag for his trip to Vegas for some award ceremony he and Quinn were nominated for. 

Clarity had hit you like a brick to the head, panic swirling in your chest at the thought of him being gone for a whole week, but then he’d looked up from where he was perched on the ground, had given you a lopsided grin, and had ushered you over to help - and the speed in which you had started to feel normal again quickly diminished any thoughts of Luke being the cause of your weirdness.

But it has been hard to shake, even as unidentifiable as it may be, and the longer you feel this way, the worse it gets, bubbling up like anxiety that keeps your jaw tight, and your lips pressed together.

It culminates the night of the boys’ party - a celebration of Quinn and Luke’s nominations, and a good luck send-off of sorts that Jack had wanted to throw before they left. 

You had started the night off fine - kind of attached at Luke’s hip, him muttering teasing remarks into your ear about you clinging to him ‘cause you’re gonna miss him when he’s gone, and catching up with a couple of the guys from Michigan. You might have even been having fun at one point, smiling into the red cup Luke had placed in your hand at the beginning of the night that you still hadn’t drained, as you watched him shoot pool and he kept smirking up at you as he leant over the table.

You shouldn’t be feeling anxious when he looks at you like that, but God, do you feel something.

And then your phone starts to buzz in your pocket, and assuming it’s Ellie, who, once again, is away with her family - this time in Europe for a couple of weeks - you pull it out.

But it isn’t Ellie.

It’s your dad.

And the heart that had been thudding in your chest at the mere capture of Luke’s attention just moments ago, is now dropping out of your ass.

It isn’t a call, thank God - you don’t think you could handle that, feeling the way you currently feel - but an email.

Your dad hasn’t called in a while. He rarely texts, either.

This is how it is, now. Emails and Facebook posts you happen to come across, like you’re some distant co-worker or an old family friend.

Not his only daughter. Not the kid he abandoned in search of a better life.

When you open it up, there’s no subject, no body either to the email, just an attachment. 

A family photo, him, his new wife, and their two boys, stood in front of the Eiffel Tower, edited into a postcard that reads, Wish You Were Here!

And resentment bubbles within you.

I could have been, if you’d have invited me.

You shove your phone back into your pocket and do a quick glance around the room to check if anyone might have noticed the tears welling in your eyes, but you’re safe. 

Luke’s attention is on the table, the rest of the boys’ attention is on him, and you slip away before he has the chance to meet your eye - to see straight through you in the way only he knows how, and make your way to the kitchen in the search of something stronger.

When you push your way through the door, whatever weird feeling that has been consuming you for the past week culminates into something bigger.

Something darker, and heavier, and angrier, like a tornado of emotions tearing through your very core, picking up every last bit of restraint on it’s way as your eyes narrow onto it’s next target.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jack pulls back in a daze from the blonde who’s face he was just suctioned to, brows furrowed as his intoxicated gaze zeroes in on you.

He slurs out your name, glaring like he’s trying to get his eyes to focus before they roll dramatically, and he runs a hand through his messy hair.

“Jesus, what do you want?”

“Maybe for you to have some respect, or is that a little too much to ask?”

“Could you give us a minute?” He asks the girl in front of him, who scowls at you before walking off, shouldering past you to exit the kitchen as you stare Jack down. “Why are you being such a psycho?”

“I’m sick of you messing Ellie around, Hughes, I’m not gonna just stand around and let you play with her heart like she means nothing to you anymore.”

“She’s not even here,” he scoffs, “She won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“And you think I won’t? She’s my friend, Jack, we tell each other everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you how she’s into Cole?”

“No. Because she isn’t.” You’d cleared that up with her a while ago, asking her straight up if something was going on - and she had said no. She wouldn’t lie to you.

“Then why do I keep getting told that she is? Why is everyone seeing them out together all the time? Why is she texting him tonight and not me?”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re making it your mission to stick your tongue down other girls throats all the time. This entire summer, you’ve done nothing but avoid your feelings so much that maybe she thinks you’re not into her. Maybe you need to pull your head out of your ass and talk to her like a grown fucking adult and stop playing stupid games with her heart.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“And you should be fucking listening. If you keep messing her around, you’ll lose her for good,” you threaten, with a jab of a pointed finger into his chest.

Jack looks flushed, cheeks pink, lips puffy, eyes red-rimmed and hair a mess as he looks back at you - and it’s like he’s functioning in slow motion, you can practically see the cogs turning in his inebriated brain as he comes up with some way to jab back, some way to make you hurt the way the thought of Ellie leaving does to him, just to avoid admitting you’re right.

“What, like how you keep messing my brother around?” 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, stepping back when he jabs a finger at you.

“You heard me,” he snarls, “Leading him on like some lovesick puppy while you couldn’t care less about him.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No, funnily enough he won’t even talk to me about you,” Jack’s glare sends a shiver down your spine, one that overrides the buzz of pride at him following your instruction - you know this level of animosity comes from the swirling of intoxication and frustration, he doesn’t actually hate you, the two of you have gotten on somewhat in the past couple of weeks, despite him making out otherwise, but this is different. This makes you feel small, like a speck of something fragile, ready to be stomped and crushed under his irate foot. And it’s not the kind of small you usually like. The kind of small where you compare yourself to the bigger picture. No, this hurts. Aches. Itches in a way that you need to relieve, immediately. “But I bet that’s your doing, because that’s how toxic you are, making it so he can’t even confide in his brother about his feelings. Feelings that you just want to stampede all over like they’re nothing. Break his heart like it’s some kind of sport.”

That isn’t true. 

That’s not who you are.

That’s not what you’re doing, not what you want.

You know how it feels to have someone break your heart like that, you’d never do that to Luke.

“Go fuck yourself, Jack.” Is all you can mutter out in defence of yourself before you’re shouldering past him, barging through the uninterested crowd and stomping out of the kitchen.

You think it’s the need to feel bigger that has you poking your head into every room in search of him - the person who had ingrained the notion of needing to feel bigger to feel better to your memory - only able to find comfort in a mop of messy curls that sits on top of a head higher than the rest. It’s what has you grasping at his hand when you do find him outside on the deck, dragging him wordlessly - and thankfully enough, without protest - back through the rest of his house, and to his room before you push him down onto the bed, instructing him to move up and sit against the headboard before you straddle his lap.

You kiss away his questions, fingers clumsily working at the buttons of his shirt until you can tear it off, swallowing down his confusion into your own mouth as he shrinks into your advances.

When you start to grind down into him is when he gains back some level of consciousness, large hands grasping at your waist and pushing until your lips part with a loud smack. And you’re both breathless, panting against each others mouths as he tries to figure you out, looking up at you with a furrowed brow and swollen lips.

“What’s going on?” He asks, eyes darting around you in concern.

Concern that makes you feel larger than life - makes your chest expand and your heart swell and your lungs fill with so much air that you feel like you might float away. To have someone look at you like that, care about you like that, want you for more than what bare bones you’re offering to him, what everyone else wants you for, it makes you feel gigantic.

Like a hot air balloon, carried to far away lands by the flames of his affections.

And if they shut off, you’ll drop into oblivion. Breaking suddenly from the airy mechanics that keep you afloat, plunging at great speeds until you inevitably hit the earth with an almighty, painful splat.

You never did like falling.

“I want you.”

His face scrunches a little as he thinks - thinks a little too hard for someone who’s been pursuing you all summer - and before he can question it, you reach for the hem of your top, pulling it off until you’re left in just your lacy bra, your skirt riding up as your legs fall to either side of his hips.

It’s the most you’ve ever given him aside from being around him in your bikini and the one time you had changed and he hadn’t turned around quick enough, and before you can feel self conscious about it, you feel his eyes rake down the long expanse of your bare skin.

And the way he looks at you now makes you feel even bigger - a hunger in his eyes that tells you he could spend the rest of his time on earth working his way through every inch of you, savouring whatever parts of you that you’ll let him get a taste of, and he’ll never let you go.

“Please?” You’re already technically on your knees, what harm can begging do if it just makes him do something?

You don’t want to talk about it like you know he’s about to ask, don’t want to have to explain why you sought him out, why, for once, you didn’t care that people might see the two of you holding hands, you marching him to his bedroom and him following like exactly what Jack had said - a lovesick puppy.

You just want him. Want to feel bigger. Want to feel wanted. 

Want to give in to the part of you that has been dying to fold to him all summer, to let him close that gap, to break down the barriers you’ve been desperately guarding.

He cranes his neck to press a sweet kiss to your lips - one lacking the intensity from before, but not the adoration he always manages to pack in there - the kind that twists at your gut until you can’t take it anymore.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, kissing him again. “Give me something to hold onto when you’re gone.”

You figure if you use his own words against him - words uttered teasingly, but truthfully, earlier - he’ll give in.

The thought of losing this, of him leaving and finding something better, of distance being wedged between you for the first time all summer and finally giving him clarity, making him see you for what everyone else thinks you are.

Maybe if you give him what he really wants he’ll hold on a little longer.

It’s not like you don’t want it, too.

“You only had the one drink?” He asks, responding with fervour, the pressure of his kiss starting to build. “The one I got you?”

“Didn’t even finish it,” you kiss him again, “Stone cold sober,” and again, fingers trailing between you to work at the button on his jeans, “Want you now.”

“Yeah,” he lifts his hips and helps you pull his pants down, a clumsy shuffle to temporarily part while he wriggles them off, “Want you, too.” He mutters before leaning in to kiss at the corner of your mouth, “Wanted you for so long.”

There’s a voice inside that itches to tell him, I know, but it’s quickly shut up by another - a voice that’s louder, a voice you can’t ignore anymore when it comes to Luke.

A voice that tells you, you know nothing.

[dinosaurswant2rule]

The trouble with Galadriel and Sauron (what the show won't admit)

Before I get hate, I fully love these two as a couple, I ship them so hard as Sauron and Galadriel and Halbrand/Galadriel (although I would have loved it if Halbrand was just a "dude" with a tragic past not the source of evil incarnate)

Anyway my rant/analysis

I've read a lot of META analysis about TROP/Galadriel / her mistakes/not spotting Sauron for what he is etc / the mistakes blah blah blah

And while it's also fascinating, my big issue with the show and to a certain extent the analysis around her is that and I'm going to say this SUPER LOUD

SAURON IS RIGHT (in a way that doesn't for Celebrimbor or any of the other character he interacts with)

Yes Sauron absolutely manipulates Galadriel and she refuses to acknowledge a whole series of things.

But, for Galadriel, everything he says to her on the raft is absolutely true in a way that's not really true for anyone else.

Galadriel IS cast out by the elves for wanting more soldiers, for hunting an enemy that they think is gone even though she is TADA right as well. Sauron is not dead (Gil Galad grhhh) They don't listen to the commander whose hunted him for decades and led them across the battle field, they just say go away crazy cat lady - we'll just ship you off to Valinor.

And it just annoys me so much, that it's never really acknowledged EVER in the second series that she actually has a point

Sauron WAS NOT DEAD

That they put her directly in the path of someone when she is angry/damaged/still mourning a brother she lost a long time ago

And when they find out she is right, they have GALL to blame her for it utterly

Elrond AND Gil Galad both lay the blame entirely on her shoulders, no one ever really openly says, sorry Gal we put you in a super awkward position where you could have been open to Sauron's manipulation, that's on us and sorry for not believing you first time around.

Elrond - twat that he is (although I love him) sorta says sorry in between make out kisses at the last possible second, but it would have been nice for him to actually acknowledge it that Auntie Galadriel actually had a point.

He also has the nerve to say that she had the darkness calling to her/ that basically she was just an idiot falling for Sauron's tricks / is possibly corrupted herself

And Gil Galad never admits it either - still vaguely regarding her a sparkly flea he can't quite swat

And that she's somehow created another problem he's got to fix

While I totally admit that it's partly her fault, I just don't think the show is written as desperately fair to Galadriel and the second series suffers a lot from it.

After building her as the angry/damaged/virtually invincible soldier in the first series, the second series determinedly knocks her down a peg or two and the men folk take over (this is not helped by the fact that she no female relationships in the series) even though t hey are partly to blame for this mess.

I guess it frustrates me that the writing /the way the cast describe it - they tend to just go with the Galadriel made a horrible mistake and look at the consequences / she really did want what Sauron offered line

Anyway, back to Sauron, HE IS RIGHT, she is dumped by the elves and he is the only one who vaguely sees her as AN EQUAL, he actually finds her determination and obsession APPEALING rather than a turn off.

And it's seen as this monstrous thing, he's saying, but it's not really because he's being absolutely true

I SEE YOU AS AN EQUAL, AS MY MATCH (romantic or otherwise)

LET'S WORK TOGETHER

BECAUSE YOU'RE AMAZING

It's hardly a shock that Galadriel found this appealing because literally no man in her immediate world has ever really acknowledged in this way before and by the end of the series, he stills wants her!

(and in my opinion even after the roundhouse kick to the face)

(this might be one of the reasons her connection is so deep with him)

Celembrimbor on other hand, Sauron plays on his vanity/his desperation/his loneliness? as well as his basic good nature, but he doesn't really ever hit the nail on the head in terms of his situation (cause frankly Brimby is living a decent life)

Sorry this always bugs me when I watch it/read it

Just had to ran this out, much love to the TROP fandom and HALADRIEL and SAURONDIEL too, you're all amazing

Elsa out x

[genderqueerdykes]

It feels so exhausting to be on this app sometimes because some queer people genuinely are incapable of looking at anything with even an ounce of nuance and take everything that doesn’t personally align with their experience or their knowledge and immediately assume it’s in bad faith and therefore deserving of ridiculous amounts of ridicule. You can come on here and go “hey as an *insert identity here* person this has been my experience” and someone else will go “well I’m *insert different identity here* and this hasn’t been MY experience therefore you’re lying and I get to be mean to you”. It just feels like a lot of queer people online cannot fathom that the universe doesn’t revolve around their specific queer experience and that people are inherently diverse and different! This also leads me to the ignorance portion of this. It seems all too often that queer people with a level of ignorance to something (which we all have no one’s all knowing or perfect!) will see an identity or term they’ve never heard before and will go “hm… well *i* was told that a lesbian is exclusively a woman who exclusively likes women so therefore you identifying as a male lesbian or other complex lesbian identity HAS to be in bad faith and I get to tell you that you’re undeniably wrong” instead of simply asking what this identity means to this person or where they can learn more. it’s like no one cares to listen to anyone anymore and everyone is so stuck in their own ideas of what queer identities are supposed to be that they’ve created their own rules for us and it’s exhausting. I’m sorry if this is long winded or hard to understand I’m very tired.

it's genuinely extremely exhausting, i agree with you 100%

it's why i've had to tell people that they're not the protagonist of whatever communities and situations they're in. i can't describe it in any other fashion than so many people believe they're the protagonist, or the owner, or the CEO of the spaces they want to occupy. holier than thou sort of nonsense. people who engage in this behavior really are treating those around them like NPCs who have no thoughts or feelings. it's one thing to suggest something, and another to tell. people are genuinely opposed to seeing others' ways of thinking because they're convinced this is their world and we're just living in it.

honestly, it reminds me of the 2000's when a lot of goths were obsessed with calling newbie and mall goths "posers". it feels the exact same way. people online are treating queerness as an exclusive club where you have to hit all the checkmarks or you're a poser. people are missing the point that it's open to all experiences. people are focusing on a definition a given term has and making it as exclusive as possible to weed out the posers. i swear, maybe if we change our verbiage to something more petty, people will finally understand just how petty this behavior really is.

anyways, i hope this behavior clears up soon because it's exhausting and pointless. if people want to create exclusive clubs, they can easily do that... with their own terms. i don't know why people choose to occupy spaces that don't suit their needs like this. create your own spaces that don't involve fighting with the vast majority of its occupants. thanks for stopping by, take care

[caffinated-squid]

The Eltingville club- consumerism, control, and how they relate to Josh Levy

So initially I wasn’t going to talk about Josh because I have seen his archetype multiple times and it felt self explanatory, as well as not really having much to say on him as a character, but I still want to give it a shot. So I am going to talk about 2 things: what Josh represents in fandom, and how that intersects with his relationship with his parents.

Starting with the basics, even though all the characters collect figures and memorabilia, Josh is the most obsessive about it, which can be seen in how he goes to several fast food stores for toys to complete his collection, later tearing through several loaves of wonder bread for a card in Bread and Suck Asses, and refusing to eat anything other than Batman Kraft Mac n cheese in the hopes of getting a new figurine.

On surface level, a lot of Josh’s behaviors reflect the overconsumption aspects in toxic fandoms, the need to spend everything to finish a collection, even if it is something they don’t even like. But I also think that its a way for Josh to have something that he doesn’t have a lot of in his life: control.

As much as Josh owns and collects, as much as he knows about trivia, he is unable to control how other people view him, which becomes more of an emphasis when taken into account that Josh (next to Jerry) is usually bullied the most. He has no control over the club, as Bill constantly reinforces his status through making sure that he gets to decide how the day is planned and what they are going to do. No matter how much he knows about comics and sci fi, he will never get hired at Joes because Joe sees him just as another source to get money out of.

I think the collecting allows Josh to have some say in how things go, same with his writing of superhero fan fiction, it gives him the ability to decide what will happen without being questioned.

*This can also apply to how he treats people in customer service, considering how he talks to them and how he treated the seller from As Seen on TV. These people can't lash out because if they do, they will get fired, and only exist to Josh as someone who he can tear into without consequence.

In this case, it is probably why Josh never got better as a writer, along with his own entitlement, he probably saw any criticism as an attack on him, and he already gets shit on daily by pretty much everybody. The only way he could find a way around this was to force people to have to deal with it out of spite, which can be seen in the epilogue as he goes on a whole speech on how when he finally gets in with the desired group of people, he can finally force people to accept his work as canon.

Josh’s parents also play a role when it comes to his consumerism and how he interacts with people. Although they are never seen, the pieces of information given (Josh having the most money to spend on memorabilia, their willingness to let him keep spending money and continue his terrible diet, giving him punishments for his behavior but still being very forgiving as they still let him interact with the club even though that’s usually how he gets into trouble) give more context for why Josh is so quick to anger and entitled, he is used to getting what he wants with little to no resistance which is something that Bill constantly challenges.

Though there is definitely a shift in this behavior after the events in This Fan, This Monster. Out of all the characters that get yelled at, I would say that Josh’s is one of the worst. You can see that his parents have reached their breaking point, and possibly have a lot of built up resentment towards Josh that is finally being let loose as they tell him they would rather be dead and blame him for his mothers heart attack.(as well as their own regrets of how they raised Josh being blamed on him) It is a personal attack that is directed towards Josh, and this is one of the only times that he doesn’t respond with hostility.

The one thing that Josh lacked which he needed the most to improve was some degree of self-reflection, as well as needing to accept that he can be wrong. The epilogue shows he did neither of these and instead doubled down. He may have gained more power, but has not gained any sense of self or respect to others, and will probably be treated as just another disposable piece in the comic industry.

[sangreprince]

Em's Big Long Sappy New Year's Post Under The Silly Cut©

Hey y'all, I wanna say thank you so much for sticking around this year. It's been a wild ride, and this blog has gotten WAY more love than I ever thought possible. I still have yet to start working on the big post I wanna do that shouts out all of my moots, but still I'm so incredibly thankful to all of you who have been here this whole time.

And I know this is supposed to be a positive thing, but I also want to be real for a second here. This year's been tough.

I don't talk about it a lot but I've been really struggling with stuff, and it's things I don't hear talked about a lot. So here goes. I wanna talk about some mental health stuff I've gone through and where I'm at now. Maybe it'll make somebody's 2025 easier than my 2024. It'll end when the orange lines do.

─────────

I'm not a terribly social person, I prefer one on one interactions much more because it gives me a lot more energy to give people and makes me a lot less anxious than group stuff. I have to be pretty exceptionally comfortable to reach the same level of comfort with a group that I can easily find with individuals. And this year what I've really come to understand is how that happens.

I find that when I introduce myself into a group setting, I compare myself to others a lot. And that really sucks. It's not fair to me, or the people around me. I think a lot of it comes from coming from a 'pull yourself up by the boostraps' type household where failure just isn't an option, and I still think I struggle with the idea that I'm 'failing' if I'm not the best at a certain thing. And if I compare myself with other people, I'm never ever gonna be the best at everything because naturally somebody else is gonna be better at some things than you.

For me this habit has been a really big issue in my relationships in 2024 because I've gotten more involved in friend groups. I don't think I'm over this bad habit, but here's what I've learned: You can't compare yourself to others, because you're not them.

You can't be everybody's best friend because people don't need that. I don't think I could even handle more than a few very close friends ( But I don't think I'm necessarily super 'close' with anyone as I think most people only see what I want them to see, and I have immense trouble with actually showing people every side of who I am just because I'm still struggling with feeling comfortable with being truly vulnerable around people and not comfortably vulnerable )

This is hard to admit even as I'm writing it, but I think deep down I learned this year that I have an intense need to prove myself to somebody that doesn't exist. An idea of this 'perfect' version of myself I've conjured up in my head. And to those close friends who've seen me lose it damn near self-flagellating myself because I wasn't the best friend somebody has or best player on the team: Thank you. For being honest with me. For grounding me and splashing the proverbial water on my face and taking me out of my own headspace. This kinda growth is hard, and overnight change is... Unrealistic at best but I try and take your grace and trust that you place in me every day and overcome one step at a time.

And I hope that one day, I can repay the kindness and patience you've shown me. I'm not used to having friends, frankly. I didn't have any, not really, until about 2019/2020. I've always been a recluse, somebody who shied from getting close to anyone as a consequence of abuse. This ( I theorize ) has affected me down to my sexuality, identity, and habits I've taken into other relationships. I've only had true, close friends for about four or five years of my life total.

I am not used to it. And I fear, at times, this is painfully obvious. So to those who I call close : Thank you. You are what keeps me going. You are what I work towards and what I carry with me. I hope that one day I can get out of my own head about this stuff, about this notion I feel to constantly prove myself in some way or another. And I want you all to know that you're the reason I'm determined to make this change, no matter how hard it is or how long it takes.

─────────

Anyway... Now for the shoutouts. This is less heavy than all of the above and in no particular order of significance as I'm just going off the top of my head: I would include everybody I love talking to but oh my god I would be here all day and besides y'all are getting that in the future anyways so. This is just the short list of personal thank you's!!!

@espelharr You, much like the radiant Viktor you write, have been a catalyst of change for me in a lot of ways. You've helped keep me honest, and been honest with me. We're pretty close and I'll admit, it makes me a little quiet and a little nervous because I'm really not used to having somebody I would consider a friend like that. You are among a very small group of people that I can confidently say I dearly trust. I admit it's kind of alien to me. I honestly don't know what to say with regards to it because I'm not entirely sure I've developed the social skills to develop a relationship beyond what we have.

In other words, you've maxed out my friendship meter and exhausted my dialog. Well, not actually. I never shut the fuck up and you know that perfectly well. I know we're both goin through out shit but if I could give you one gift as a token of my appreciation, it would be to let you see yourself for one minute how I see you every second of every day of every year that's to come.

And that's coming from somebody who has no idea of what's to come. But if you'll have me, I'd like to be a part of it. Through thick and thin, wind rain and snow.

Thank you, friend. I am proud to call you this. You get the long post because it's the last bit of Em "I wanna step out of my comfort zone and be vulnerable" before I retreat into my ball again.

@lronwilled Shep I'm still so confused how you infected my friend groups and became so close to me LMAO LIKE IT JUST KINDA HAPPENED AND I can maybe pinpoint like. One or two instances of maybe where it began but I still honestly have an immense amount of appreciation for all the patience and kindness you've shown me. I'm incredibly glad to have met you and started to actually talk more and I hope in 2025 I can maybe finally give you more than one reply a year and oh my god I haven't replie-

@untoldwithin / @avatarwithin YETI... I adore having got to know you and plot stuff like we have. Your portrayals conjure the voices of those you portray to my mind, and talking with you about ideas is always such a blast?? I love seeing you on the dash and love doing things just as much. Here's to a 2025 filled with a LOT MORE of all of the above, I'm so ready for it!!

@plasticsouled / @fearedelight Sal I hope you know how much I love seeing your silly little self on the dash. Even your main blog with muses I know nothing about are stuffed full of life and so much passion that it makes me so glad to be here and be a part of it. You're a fantastic writing partner and I'm so thankful to have met you in the last quarter of this year, and I really hope we can expand on everything we have and more in what's to come!! I love our silly lil shippy stuff and being able to talk is always such a joy and I go pspspsppsp for you to give me any and all thoughts whenever you have them because I can't get enough.

@primegrim / @mirkc / any of your other blogs PICHU I'm so glad to have met you this year and had somebody to ramble with. You write like a thousand blorbos but I'm grabbing each and every one of them with both my hands. Being able to talk and plot and do whatever else is such a blessing and I'm so glad you're here with us. if possible I'd take all your characters and raise them up like Simba, I'm such a fan 24/7 no questions asked.

@jinxe RAY MY BELOVED you have been here with me since the Volibear days and I'm so thankful for it. I've made this known several times but your lil meow meow will always be at my heart and you alone have made me appreciate her as a character so much more than I ever thought possible. I wish you were here more because I would be GRABBING YOU at all possible times.

Honorable Mentions:

You guys already know I love and appreciate you so much, and this is by no means all inclusive. If you're not on here I probably just forgor because this post is already long and emotional for me so skdjhfsdkj here goes!

@rotdame / bloom @soulcluster / NERD (I had to) @luxcruor / sailor @curscdtm / nathy @decaeys / my favorite stinky goth irl toreador @venstm / Ray :3 @hexsreality / Itzel @edgymuses / Jolyne @nameaprice / Xena @pompedia / POM @erobret / FERGIE :D @blueheals & @heirashari / Evie @avernusfuries HANNNN- gets slammed through a wall @spiderwarden & @coldjustness Melody @lunaetis / Hina @blackrosesmatron / lucy

Thank you.

All of you.

Here's to a good 2025.

[devildevotee]

you're entitled to your opinion but in my own opinion (and you're fine to disagree with me on this) it's a little christianity-adjacent to see gods and humans as completely separate from each other and one is the untouchable holiness and we are inherently lesser than them. it just smells of the unsinable pure god and the sin-ridden impure worshippers.

additionally, what are you planning to gain from saying gods can't do these things with those who revere and worship them? are the people who are claiming to spend time with their deities doing you any harm? i fail to see how saying they can't do something benefits you, the worshipper, or the deity in question. it genuinely does not help anyone.

if a worshipper finds joy in spending time doing mundane things with their gods, i really don't see how this is offensive to anybody. it's one of the most harmless things you can possibly say. "i went for a hike with artemis today to practice some exercise", "i played some games with hermes and it made me happy" "i blew a kiss to aphrodite's statue to show her i loved her" i think it's time we put down the villainising and looked at this as something better, or at the very least, not wrong or evil. it's really not disrespectful to do something for a deity be it a huge feast in their name or just taking your meds to honor them.

the gods are not your besties or your friends or your babygirls, they are GODS. their nature is transcendant and immaterial. they deserve love, reverence and worship. they are good, and pure, and just, but they are not your imaginary friends you can just chill or play games with.

[mlbigbang2024]

ML Big Bang 2024 Fic Recs

Miscellaneous

This collection of fics were recommended by the contributors of the @mlbigbang2024 for their favourite fics of 2024 (posted in between Nov 2023 and Dec 2024)

General and Teen and Up Fics

What If... Ladybug and Chat Noir had to go on a Miraculous scavenger hunt? (Rated: G)

By Booksforthelost

Tags: What-if, AU - Canon Divergence, Turtle Master Fu | Jade Turtle

Summary: When Master Fu is robbed, Ladybug and Chat Noir find themselves in a race against their enemies to recover the Miraculous.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It displays what happens when nobody knows each other's secret identity but work together to stop Hawk Moth. Also, scavenger hunts are very fun!

A Swing and a Miss (and a Kiss) (Rated: T)

By @coffeebanana

Tags: PRPR, mutual pining, canon divergent

Summary: Adrien derails a game of ping-pong with a single sentence: “If I make this next point, my lady, you have to kiss me.”

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Just two kids being super awkward and kissy kissy meow meow.

The Terror (Rated: T)

By @gaussiansphere

Tags: psychological horror, la terreur au, using a miraculous has side effects

Summary:

Something is rotten in the city of Paris.

A general lockdown has been imposed as the entire world scrambles to make sense of the images of magic and monsters trickling out. Here, all powers have a price, whether they come from the ring on your finger or the voice in your head.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Based off the Tumblr comic by @sillysiluriforme , La Terreur, of the same name but in English. Fleshing it out and adding more psychological horror. Things are bad (but it’s okay! (I think))

Meditations (Rated: T)

By @bittersweetresilience

Tags: experimental style, poetry, epistolary

Summary: Félix reflects on fathers, and on monsters, and on dying.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: I cry thinking about this. It’s so rare we have something so experimental in the fandom. Poetic, epistolary, reflective. It’s a treasure

The Best Worst Day Ever (Rated: G)

By @fandomofone

Tags: awkward flirting, Plagg is so done, fluff and angst

Summary:

Riding high after Hawkmoth’s latest defeat, Adrien’s promising day begins to unravel when he arrives at school and discovers that Chat Noir is apparently a laughingstock following the previous day’s fight against Malediktator- and he has no memory of it. Feeling somewhat hurt and embarrassed, Adrien questions Plagg and is shocked to learn that the source of all his woes may be… his Lady? As if that’s not bad enough, Marinette unwittingly gets roped into his miserable day, and a misunderstanding between them leaves Adrien anxious about the future of their friendship. Can this day possibly get any worse?

Well, there is still patrol duty with Ladybug to look forward to...

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is a cute little Adrienette fluff piece that fits snugly between episodes! It occurs after Maledictator, and I just love the adorable idiots. 

Not Quite Right (Rated: T)

By @ladynoirfanao3

Tags: Marichat, protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, identity reveal

Summary:

When Marinette wakes up one morning, she can’t help but feel that something is just a little bit… off. No one else around her seems to feel the same, however, and she is forced to shake off the strange feelings.

It proves to be more difficult than she imagined, especially when an akuma attack leaves her feeling helpless as she watches Chat Noir and Ladybug arrive on scene.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It's like it's on the tip of your tongue, but you can't tell what it is

Mature and Explicit Fics

Voyage! Tales of the USS Miraculous (Rated: M)

By @uptoolateart

Tags: AU - Star Trek Fusion, But can be understood even if you don't know Star Trek, PTSD

Summary: Almost four years since the brutal battle at Wolf-359, Captain Marinette Dupain-Cheng – one of the youngest Captains in Starfleet history – has been assigned command of the USS Miraculous.

Her first mission with her new crew is to investigate a distress beacon from the most dangerous region of the Alpha Quadrant – the Neutral Zone. But what they discover is just the beginning of an exploration into the strangest world Marinette has ever visited – her own heart.

* A Star Trek crossover written to be understood even if you aren’t familiar with the Star Trek universe *

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Such a fun and clever crossover with Star Trek - it fits perfectly in the ST universe, and can also be read fandom-blind. The characters have such different histories but are still so clearly /them/. It's funny and cute, with a healthy dose of angst and hurt, too. There's a very interesting undercurrent of mystery, adventure, and discovery. 

Revealing Commission (Rated: E)

By @katieykat513

Tags: Aged-up, smut, identity reveal

Summary: Marinette: I'm poor! Adrien: I have money! Marinette: I can't take your money! what if I made fanart? Adrien: I can pay for fanart! Marinette: Uhhh what do you want? Adrien: NSFW ladynoir for no specific reason! Marinette: What is my life?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: The premise alone is enough said, but it also had some sweet fluff mixed in with the hilarity.

Mamma Mia! (Rated: M)

By @ladynoirfanao3

Tags: Cat Walker, unplanned pregnancy, aged-up, identity reveal

Summary:

When Marinette discovers she is pregnant, she is distressed to realize any of the three men she slept with in the recent past could be the father; Chat Noir, Ladybug’s partner and ex with whom she had gone through a tearful breakup - the mysterious Cat Walker, Ladybug’s rebound - or Adrien Agreste, Marinette’s current boyfriend.

But does she quickly discover all three potential fathers are, in fact, the same man? No, of course not; where would be the fun in that?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: What a better way to play with all the different tropes! Identity shenanigans galore. 

What We're Made Of (Rated: M)

By @uptoolateart

Tags: I have spent the last two years thinking of nothing but sentibeings, I'm taking the sentibeing idea as far as possible

Summary:

Humanity has just survived the apocalypse – with a little magic, and the help of several hundred senti-soldiers. Now, they need to figure out what to do with them…and what to do with the news that the Mayor of London is a sentibeing himself.

Meanwhile, Hugo, the twins, and other children of sentibeings have developed magical powers. But with the trauma of the war still fresh in people’s minds, prejudices are forming and tensions are riding high.

Now, Adrien, Marinette and Felix – and some unexpected friends – must band together again to face old demons and find a way to move forward at last.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Cerebral, emotional, inspiring, and always inventive. I love it when a well-written story expands the lore in a creative, yet plausible way. There’s a direct line from canon to what this story and its siblings in the Breaking Free series do, and it’s a gift to the fandom.

[taldigi]

Ur post about yui going to face adachi alone also adds a lot to yosuke being there when she comes back out, cause like it’s now as much as the canon explanation as it is fear that he might try something (she might be his reliable partner but she’s also still a girl going to face a creep)

I can just as easily see adachi forgoing the gun scare and just approaching her instead

It's good old fashioned misogyny. He thinks girls are weaker, stupider (yet somehow more cunning), lazier, and inherently more evil then even the most brick headed of guys. Girls are for cooking dinners and not much else. He thought that he deserved a relationship of any kind with Yamano and became personally infuriated when she had the affair.

"If only they did what I wanted, I wouldn't have to have killed them." and- he expects his worldview (at least in this particular scenario) is something that "everyone understands, at least on a subconscious level". Heck, even Kanji admits to brushing off info about Adachi calling out to high school girls because "thats how cops are, y'know?"

It's a card he plays on Yu constantly. A large amount of his social link is him expressing this on some level and asking you to agree. If the "right answers" are ones that net you social points, then you are playing (or possibly even letting Yu be groomed) into being a person just like him.

even some of the non-social pointed options are... very very not Yu-like at all. Yu is blunt. But he's not cruel.

I just wish the game didn't punish you (locking you out of achievements and persona) for rejecting these ideas or not desiring to finish it (like the game locks at 8 if you don't go in after him alone or taking the accomplice route- as well as making Yu have flashbacks of good moments as a justification for chasing him down) You can't even talk to your friends about it, or ask them to back you up, or at least have a scene that lets you rank up the link without betraying your friends trust in you/yu.

But, I guess that's the point.

IMO IT should be furious- Yosuke should be furious-- if you want a reversed magician event, then here it is (and even tho the game does do an event where he confronts you, he forgives you way too easily). But the game doesn't dole out consequences for this & Golden tries really hard to sell Yu and Adachi as a fated set of opposites (when, cough, Yosuke is a better opposite to Adachi than Yu, I think.) as if they aren't supposed to be a trio with Namatame or at least acting as an antithesis to the IT as a whole. It's a dynamic that is done so much better with Ren and Akechi it's almost comical.

So Yui approaching him alone is thrice as stupid and thrice as dangerous. Even in the scenario where Yui is a stronger person than Yu- in which she COULD single-handedly whoop his ass multiple times over- Adachi can never and would never consider her a threat or something remotely meaningful on the same level as he would Yu.

.. and I'm sure that Yui being Dojima's niece is the only thing keeping him from doing the same things he did to those other girls to her. And who knows, hopped up on enough power- he could do it to Nanako too. That's usually how things like that go.

in NG+: Girl Edition, she does not follow after him. Adachi gives her really bad vibes because he treats her differently too. He treats her like she's kinda stupid, and exacerbates her anxieties about the roles she chooses to fill. Instead, I like to think instead of Yosuke confronting her after the encounter, he catches her at the TV and they just talk for a bit about it. (the au is a vehicle for Yuiske after all lmaooo)

I think there are people with heavier Adachi brainrot than I ever will who can dissect this better than I. In the end, I think he's an excellent villian for P4, but I really am not a fan of the woobification Golden gave him LMAO.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere!Aemond vs Daemon concept with dragon rider!darling who’s dragon is close with both of their dragons.

Hope this is good-

-🌊 anon (assuming this isn’t taken-)

Far as I know, it's not! I should've added your Anon once I saw this so you're good >:) Also, sorry if this is bad, Vhagar made this oddly difficult. I'm going to be honest, I think I butchered it.

Yandere! Aemond vs Daemon with Dragon Rider! Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Potential targcest (Darling is a dragon rider so they have Targaryen blood somewhere), Violence, Kidnapping, Medieval marriage practices, Mature themes (Brief mention of bedding), OOC characters obviously, Forced companionship/relationship.

I assume this is based on my HC of riders reflecting their rider's emotions.

When it comes to these two who haven't had their dragon hatched beside them... The emotions don't always show.

However... Caraxes has shown to reflect some of Daemon's emotions, so his can work.

Aemond and Vhagar are a bit more complicated though.

Vhagar has often gone against Aemond's word and doesn't seem fond of any other dragon.

She's the oldest dragon alive by this time period.

The only way I can see her fond of another dragon is if maybe they are from a clutch of hers?

Even then, I don't think dragons are the best parents.

Despite this, Vhagar would have some sort of respect for Aemond's obsession.

Now, I feel you could be on either side for this obsession to happen.

You're bonded to your dragon who is no doubt from a clutch laid by Vhagar.

Daemon and Aemond are rather similar to one another since they are both warriors for their side...

But they are not quite the same.

Daemon is fierce, unpredictable, brave, yet ruthless and bloodthirsty.

He tends to solve issues with force and violence alongside Caraxes.

Although... He does care for his family.

Aemond is serious, ambitious, yet also ruthless.

However, his violence is more due to duty or personal ambition than Daemon.

Vhagar is a tool to him to keep his family in power.

I feel both of them would have connections with you if their dragons did.

Aemond had never seen Vhagar friendly or tolerant of any other dragon.

Yet with yours, Vhagar doesn't snap or grumble much.

She doesn't even seem to mind your own presence much.

Granted, she isn't affectionate, but I doubt she was rather affectionate even in her prime.

Caraxes, however, is much more social.

He is more likely to reflect his rider's emotions towards you and your dragon.

While Vhagar is more like an... apathetic parent to your dragon, Caraxes can act like a mate to your dragon or just protective.

It depends on Daemon's feelings towards you much more than Aemond and Vhagar.

Now in terms of how Daemon and Aemond act around you...

If you want to go the romantic route, Daemon is flirtatious while Aemond seems more...refined yet oddly calculating?

If they're platonic, you have them both protective of you as family... as tension increases, they both try to convince you to join their own side...

But both routes are a competition, things are always a competition between the two of them.

It's all a game to them to see who can get you to be theirs first.

Both of them happen to enjoy the competition.

I feel your dragon being connected to theirs would be a bigger problem during the war.

Your dragon isn't typically sent against theirs because the dragons tend... avoid confrontation unless forced.

However... I can definitely see Vhagar and Caraxes more eager to take on each other since their rider's competition makes them... territorial.

I feel this pairing is surprisingly harder to do because of Vhagar.

With Caraxes, he definitely reflects Daemon's hidden obsession by nuzzling your dragon and wrapping around them.

Vhagar... can't do that.

However, for this, maybe Vhagar is aware of how close you are to him.

Not only that, but you are bound to her hatchling.

In that case, maybe Vhagar will listen to this kid ramble about you...

Then maybe she'll go against Caraxes and his rider to keep you and your dragon closer.

Vhagar just sort of follows her own rules though.

So, even the men's dragons are into this competition for their own reasons.

You, on the other hand, keep watching your family fall apart while Daemon and Aemond try to coerce you by using their dragons as an excuse.

You'd most likely never fight these two on your dragon anyways.

They keep you out of their games... until there's a victor, at least.

It's scary how far these two are willing to go to get you to be theirs.

Murder, duels, all sorts of bloodshed...

These two are quite ambitious men.

A rivalry on their own is pretty bad WITHOUT their dragons, since I haven't written about that yet, I can probably put a more general version here.

Aemond acts like a stoic and calculating gentleman.

He'd either be an overprotective sibling or try to court you slowly.

Aemond likes to plan things, he wants to make sure his plan works.

Daemon seems like he plans too, but he's more impatient.

If romantic he more intends to bed you before properly courting.

That, or he intends to be an overprotective parent or uncle who doesn't intend to hand you over to The Greens... and he plans to make that final.

Both of them are tactical and can create plans.

So to them, most of their rivalry is one big mind game.

One they plan to have come to a head by the time of the war.

Now, the dragons being more invested in this game may make things... worse.

Both dragons would essentially... threaten you to their side.

Caraxes is growling and not allowing you to mount your dragon unless you side with Daemon.

Vhagar doesn't need to do much, a roaring grumble tells you enough as she watches you and Aemond talk.

Both riders are fully aware that they can use their dragons as... ways to negotiate.

One way or another, you're going to join a side.

Up to you what dragon you're going to end up dealing with... not that it matters to the two riders.

They fully intend to finish their game bathed in fire and blood...

Them getting rid of one another and their dragons may just be a mercy to you.

[dardinan-ingellvar]

Learning The Sad Truth

After a decade with Emmrich, it's become apparent to Dardin'an that they've truly stopped aging. They had already thought it strange that they looked like they did in their mid twenties with no real change by the time Solas' ritual was stopped, but with Emmrich reaching 60, and looking just that much older, Dardin'an doesn't look 40 at all. Not a thing has changed, and it's beginning to scare them. After learning the truth about their life - that they were a wisp who had taken human form - they'd often wondered if there were side effects. Now, it seems they have their answer.

To be certain, they call upon Keepsake and Curio in private, needing that certainty. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Rook" Keepsake says.

"Thank you. It is always an honor to see the both of you. Hail the Dead...But...I have questions. I know I am not truly an Elf. I was a wisp. Am a wisp, I suppose...And I seem to have stopped aging. I look no different than I did when I was 25 or so...How is that possible?"

Curio nods "I am afraid you are not mortal. We have been observing you, Rook. Your state of being is new to us, but we've seen it too."

"But you are no less fragile. You can still fall in battle no differently than any other. I'm afraid, however, unless that happens, you will far outlive Emmrich...Farther than you perhaps previously planned" Keepsake chimes.

Dardin'an pales and has to take a seat on one of the steps of a tomb to keep their head from spinning quite so much "So...I was right...Shit...I should have let him turn Lich...but Manfred..."

"If it is any consolation, it means he can, in theory, return to you...in time. As you did for him. We may be able to guide that, now that we know more about your condition" Curio remarks

Dardin'an winces "I...I thought I could face his death with my head held high. But I thought I'd grow old with him, relatively speaking. I didn't think-...This is cruel! What am I supposed to do? How do I tell him?"

"He is an observant man, Rook. He already knows. That you love him still has kept him from speaking up." Keepsake's tone suggests this isn't the first time they've had this talk

Dardin'an stands and looks horrified "He figured it out...?! How long ago?"

"Six years...He came to us needing to know why you never seem to change. We had realized by then that you were more unique than previously believed"

With years forming in their eyes, they turn from the spirits. "Thank you...I need to speak with Emmrich..."

Dardin'an send Keepsake and Curio back to rest and goes to find Emmrich in their room. He is grading some projects, so he doesn't look up from his work. "Ah! Rook, dearest! Pass me that tome on the desk beside you, will you? I believe one of my students stumbled on something..."

Dardin'an sighs, and does as asked. They let Emmrich make his notes before they speak.

"...So...You've known for six years..."

Emmrich sits up and turns to finally meet Dardin'an's gaze "Oh...my love, I had hoped you wouldn't realize so quickly...Elves seem to age so gracefully...I thought-..." He sighs. "...Well, I knew you'd find out eventually. I just wanted our time together to be less fraught with concern."

Dardin'an shakes their head. "It's not right! You should be immortal too. I robbed that from you...I should've-...!"

Emmrich stands and hugs Dardin'an close "You gave us a son we could raise together...And what a wonder he is! I'd be so broken without that. Losing Manfred would never have been worth immortality...Even if we could share in it after all. And I haven't been entirely inactive since I realized...I'm trying to find out if, perhaps...I could become a wisp myself after-...Well...after the end. If I can possess a form like you did, or even one like Manfred, and grow into my own again...You won't have to bear eternity alone..."

Dardin'an tenses "I can't-...Decades without you...."

"...Will be a blink of an eye, dearest. And then you'll have me again. Though, I may be a tad different...But if I find away to lock my mind within the wisp form I take, I wouldn't be quite so different as you are to my first love. I'd essentially be me, reborn"

Dardin'an kisses Emmrich and hugs him back finally "Please find a way. It was one thing when I thought I would only have a few years without you before I could rejoin you...Forever?...I can't face that."

Emmrich melts a little at the kiss and smiles with a melancholy glint in his eyes. "I understand, darling, I truly do...If not for my own mortality, I believe I might have spent all my time worrying over you...Yes, you're immortal yourself, but as a Lich, I would be much harder to kill. You are not. And in our line of work, beyond the Necropolis, there is no reality where neither of us is in danger of passing before the other."

Dardin'an groans "I suppose...I just wish we could stop finding salt to pour in our wounds. Every time we get comfortable, something new comes along that hurts...I came into this relationship knowing odds were high I'd lose you one day. But I knew I'd die eventually...Then I find out I'm a wisp that possessed an infant's corpse, and I'm still not able to really wrap my mind around that...But on top of it all, I'm immortal because of it? Now, I get to lose you, like you lost the person I once was? Get me off this runaway cart...I need a break..."

Emmrich strokes Dardin'an's cheek and sighs "Oh, Rook...Such is life. But we have a good life together, and so many happy memories, adventures, stories to tell...Let's focus on that, while we seek solutions to the problems that arise. It's the best way around all that stress."

Dardin'an nods against Emmrich's chest and pulls him to their bed for a desperately needed distraction to aid in working on moving on from this revelation.