#and while I can't find anything on it at the moment

[wlwsoccerfics]

Club Support(RenéeSlegersXKyraCooneyCrossXSlegersReader)

Summary: you go to a Game to support your Mom and the team. One of the Girls Starts flirting with you without knowing who you are.

You sat in the friend and family section during the Game against Aston Villa. Your moms Team won 4-1. You were quite proud of your Mom. She was the new headcoach for Arsenal, which always happened to be your favorite Team. Altough you weren't doing anything Football related. You were a firefighter/EMT. You just turned 23 and enjoyed working out. You did Basketball as a hobby.

After the game you walked onto the field. Before you could approach your Mom a brunette showed up right in front of you.

"well hello. Who do we have here? You must have fallen from heaven cause you look like an Angel!" Kyra said with a Mix of flirting and trying to Joke. You giggled a little.

"Not am Angel. Just a firefighter & EMT." You explained. "And my Name is y/n!" You added on. Renée was watching the whole interaction from a few feet away, standing next to Steph & Leah.

"does she know she is flirting with your daughter?" Leah asked.

"nope! She wasn't there when y/n picked me up after practice last time! She was in with the Physio." Your mom answered.

"Oh little pest is in for an emotional Rollercoaster once she finds out." Steph replied with a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Both Leah & your Mom were laughing. You glanced over to them. Knowing exactly what they were laughing about.

You then return to look at Kyra who then proceeded to flirt asking if she can buy a calender of you dressed in your firefighter gear.

"you can't buy a calender but if you play your cards right i can make you one!"you told her, winking at her. The face she made when you said this was priceless and you weren't the only one thinking that cause now your Mom, Leah and Steph where joined by Lia, Alessia, Katie , Caitlin & Beth.

"oh this Is fun to watch!" Beth said. Alessia and the others couldn't help but agree.

"even as one of her best friends i have to agree with you!" Alessia answered.

"this Is comedy gold!" Katie stated.

"can i take you on a date then. Cause i am sure i can Play my cards right!" Kyra let you know.

"i love your confidence!" You answered. Waiting for a few seconds to add something to your statement. "I mean it's so bold of you to just ask me out and flirt with me while my Mom is around!" You let her know.

"where is your Mom?" She asked and looked around. "What does she look like?" Kyra wanted to know. Which was your moms queue to walk over. The Girls from her team where excited about this like it was Christmas Eve.

"i see you have met my daughter." Your mom said and smiled amused. Patting Kyras shoulder and hugging you. You hug her back.

"hi Mom!" You replied. Laughing at kyras face. She stared at the two of you, mouth wide open and her eyes looked like they were gonna fall out of her skull. She was brought back to the Moment by all the Girls laughing. Katie was bend over, hitting her knees with her fists. She absolutly lost it.

"oh pest this Is hilarious!" Steph said in between laughs. Kyra flipped her off, she was about to walk away in embarrassment but you stopped her, gently holding her arm.

"so about that Date? how about i take you out tonight? Or you could come to my place and i can cook for you!" You suggested.

"but Renée, i mean your Mom is my Coach..." She started but your mom interrupted her before things would get awkward again.

"my daughter is an adult. So are you! If you want to go on a date i am all for it as long as it doesn't affect your performance in a negative way!" Your mom told her.

"thank you! It won't!" Kyra said with a smile. You kissed her cheek.

"Take a shower and then meet me in the parking lot. I am taking you home with me right away for Dinner and a movie!" You told her. She walked past the girls, now she was the one grinning and the Girls looked quite impressed that she actually managed to get a date with you after that.

Didn't take long for you to get together and you went to almost every Game. When you weren't working of course. Wearing an Arsenal Jersey with cooney-cross written on the back of course.

[harmonysanreads]

oh to baby the ever handsome flawless hero,,, phainon you deserve to be handfed and get your cheeks pinched and cooed at. i need to cut fruits for him i need to make sure he stays warm in cold weather. please maintain your whimsy if he loses that boyish smile i will END IT ALLLLLL

“You're so... cute.”

Being caught by surprise spells death for a warrior and you are a master at enacting that incantation every time. Phainon would've marinated in the bafflement of it all for a while longer, if his reflexes hadn't acted faster, arms springing forward to catch your figure — deliberately pushed towards himself.

“Haa — mmf?” his must look like a visage worthy of jeer, but his attention is too flighty to focus on anything less important than the press of your palms against his cheeks, mushing the flesh together to your whimsy.

It wouldn't be difficult to push you away, if his left hand hadn't been occupied with securing your balance on his lap, firmly coiled around your waist. But it would be incorrect to assume his wishes lay anywhere in that territory, his very free and very much functioning right hand dangling by the side seemed to provide evidence to his prominent disinterest in severing the contact.

Light falls on your back, veiling your exact expression from his curious eyes. But he can tell that you've leaned closer, feel the absence of heat from where your hand parted ways from his skin and settled amongst the ivory strands of his hair.

“How can a man be this... this adorable?” there's a frightening mix of endearment and frustration in your voice, unless he's losing his mind. Your vigorous ruffling of his hair next, assures him that he has not.

“It should be illegal to be this precious.” the pout that he's most certain exists on your lips bleeds its way to your admissions of how endearing he apparently is. He's unable to force words out of his parched mouth, blood clogged around from his ears to his cheeks — where you deliver a sharp pinch to, rouging the skin further.

His winch is promptly muffled by your skin, the abrupt pull your hand causing him to crash straight into your embrace. He can feel the barely-there weight of your cheek brushing against his hair, utterances of a line of words he vaguely recognizes as abstract terms of endearment bounces off his ears. You try to rock him like a newborn child, he assists by melting further in your arms.

The grip you have around him is by no means strong, but the thought that he could take advantage of it to liberate himself from this embarrassing situation does not once cross his mind. He doesn't even find it the least bit flustering, in fact.

Just as quickly as it started, you pull him away from your arms and all the muscles in his face drop. It does not seem like you thought it vital to be acknowledged either, focusing instead on scooping a few grapes from the bowl of fruit that Phainon cannot even recall you putting down.

“What are you thinking about? Open your mouth.” his jaw slackens at the command, at a speed that'd no doubt give many people whiplash. If wind passed by at that moment, it'd no doubt whistle in his head.

You push one after another piece of mouthwatering fruit, but his braincells scurry away from processing the tastes of them. Bright blue eyes cradle the pleased curve of your lips with utmost caution, caress the purse between them whenever he appears slow in following your motion. He feels moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. Your smile, your warmth, the timbre of his voice, all so heart-wrenchingly ethereal —

“Tsk, look at how messy you are, can't even chew a piece of fruit cleanly.” you suddenly remark, purposefully smearing some pomegranate juice on the corner of his lips. He blinks at the shift in your expression, you tilt your head to address his confusion, nearly burning the remnants of his conscious mind.

Your titillating gaze flits to the scene of your creation next, tracing over the arch of his lips and returning back to gauge his stare — challenging him to speak, to break free, to deny you as you lean closer, fixated on the stain of fruit residue you painted your intentions with.

He answers by decreasing a breath worth of space, the hand that rested so far in serenity on your back pushed you closer, while his right hand wrenched the dagger away from your knuckle tight clasp. Gone is the veil of dew that you cloaked yourself in thus far, expression scrunched in what he can only assume is incendiary displeasure.

He watched as your disgruntled eyes followed the twirl of the dagger now dancing between his fingers, “So close! I must admit, you're getting more and more creative with your approaches, melite!” his energetic response did nothing but worsen your existing disappointment.

You crossed your arms in petulance, no longer interested in keeping that searing eye-contact, “Maybe just poison my food next, eh? Definitely much easier than going through all this trouble.”

The casual lilt of Phainon's suggestion appalls you, compelling you to turn around to face his stupid wide smile, “What are you saying? Didn't you always want a Hero’s death?”

That puts a dent to his disturbing playfulness, he throws away the excuse of a dagger somewhere without care. Eyes glossing over in realization, “You remembered...!”

That earns him nothing but a deadpan.

A boom of laughter fills the air, “Okay, okay, I'll stop ‘messing around’, as you like to say.”

Traces of his amusement linger and gather round to form one last wink, “But I wasn't joking, it really did touch this little heart of mine.” he cradles the mentioned organ in cue, getting a seasoned eye-roll in response.

Now it's his turn to gather you close, you do your duty in pushing against the embrace, like you've done so many times before — losing before his strength like every time.

“And I also wasn't joking when I suggested that you can use more underhanded methods to kill me for good.” he looks directly at you, through you, trapping you in place to match his steps in continuing this charade.

“Why?” you feel compelled to ask and to your bewilderment, Phainon's smile softens.

“Because death by your hand, no matter the way, would be my greatest honor.”

[precure1ove]

he makes me laugh

summary : it's their first time hearing you laugh but it's not at all what they thought it would be..

characters : silver vanrouge , sebek zigbolt

warnings : crack, fluff, reader is the prefect, reader is described as stoic, can be read as platonic or romantic

a/n : i accidentally deleted the ask for this..im so sorry :(( but this request was so fun to do!! <3

You were a stoic person, not one to regularly show emotions except for the slightest shift in your eyes whenever you find something enjoyable or distasteful.

Because of this you rarely laughed, the only sound of appreciation was from a small hum.

silver

Silver didn't mind how you did not react much if he's being honest he appreciates that part of you as it's something he can mostly relate too.

He hadn't even intended to make you laugh but apparently him becoming loopy and accidentally stepping on Grim's tail resulting in a loud girlish scream was enough to set you off.

In one of the worst ways possible.

You start by a small chuckle, seemingly innocent enough before you hunched over then threw your head back, a cackle that could shock anybody or anything followed along. it was like a curse had clawed its way out of your throat to haunt and reign terror over the land for all those who wronged you.

Silver, who was frozen in shock, with an equally terrified Grim clawing onto his pant leg, a good distance away from you in case you struck them down with lighting (reminding him of a certain gargoyle obsessed prince).

Unfortunately, he and Grim make sure to not do anything that can be considered the same amount of comical as that moment again.

Memories of Silver's childhood of a certain fae haunting him during Halloween keeps him on edge for a few days.

sebek

Sebek appreciated your stoic nature, sometimes, while you are a part of the saner portion of the school. (the same can't be said for him despite what he may think.)

He at least wants to see emotion on your face then hear another disappointed sigh again when he's being loud.So when you find him in a rather compromising position of being buried head to toe in custom made malleus merch, bowing to another custom made statue of the fae himself while singing praises.

You couldn't help but laugh.

And it was reality breaking for dear Sebek. You chuckle quietly as if to not be heard, then that was dismissed by you to bring a hand to cover your eyes as a cackle erodes from you, echoing around the dark chamber.

Now, for others, this usually meant trouble, for it meant a glorious reenactment of his beloved waka-sama. You even got the part where lighting strikes behind you ominously perfectly!

Obviously he is also scared for his life, thank lilia for that, but his loyalty and admiration for malleus shines through.

Sebek now seeks your presence more, excited to have someone who also appreciates Malleus like him.

Will you now teach him to laugh like that?

likes & reblogs appreciated

masterlist⠀ — ⠀ request here

[stnkiconverse]

HI ITS YOUR GIRL SWANONNN

im interested in sum....enemies to lovers.... with toby....

-🦢

Enemies to Lovers - Ticci Toby x Proxy!Reader

- You and Toby are oil and water from the start. His sharp tongue and impulsiveness immediately put you on edge, while your no-nonsense attitude only fuels his irritation.

- He has a knack for throwing off your focus, his muttered sarcasm or outright refusal to collaborate during missions always sends your blood boiling.

- "For someone who talks so b-big, you're pretty bad at k-keeping up," he'd mock after outrunning you in the field.

- "And for someone who's so 'skilled’ you sure love making my job harder," you'd shoot back.

- The tension comes to a head during a high-stakes mission.
His recklessness forces you to cover for him, leaving you both bruised and pissed.

- You corner him afterward, chest heaving as you shout, "Do you even care that you almost got us both killed?!"

- Toby's jaw tightens, his usual smirk absent. "I didn't a-ask you to save me." His words sting, but his tone is more defensive than combative, like you've hit a nerve.

- After that mission, something shifts. You start noticing things about him you hadn't before, how his hands shake when he's still for too long or the way he fiddles with a small, battered notebook when he thinks no one's watching.

- One night, you find him sitting alone on the porch, hood pulled low as he stares at the stars.

- Instead of walking past, you sit down beside him. He doesn't look at you, but he doesn't move away either.

- "W-why do you care so m-much?" he asks quietly after a long silence.

- The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard.

- Slowly, the hostility between you softens. Toby starts listening to you during missions (mostly 🥲), and you stop snapping at him over every little thing.

- He begins showing up in your space more often, dropping little jokes or leaning against the wall as if daring you to tell him to leave.

- You catch him sketching once, his natepad open to a rough but surprisingly detailed drawing of a bird. He notices you staring and slams it shut, cheeks flushing slightly. "W-what? Never seen someone d-draw before?"

- During another dangerous encounter, you get hurt protecting him. For once, Toby doesn't crack a joke or brush it off. Instead, he's frantic, hands clumsy as he tries to stop the bleeding.

- "Why the hell w-would you do t-that?" he demands, voice shaking. You can't tell if he's angry or scared.

- "Because l'm not going to let you get yourself killed," you reply, and for a moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable in his expression.

- After that, Toby becomes noticeably more protective. He doesn't say anything outright, but he's always nearby, watching your back during missions and lingering a little longer in your shared spaces.

- The teasing doesn't stop, but it changes, less biting, more playful. He starts calling you nicknames that are just annoying enough to make you roll your eyes but secretly make your chest tighten.

- One rainy evening, he invites you to sit with him on the porch.

- "Y-you're quieter than I thought you'd b-be," he says after a while, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small smile.

- It's not a grand, all-out moment, Toby isn't that kind of guy.

- Instead, it happens during a quiet night in the aftermath of another mission.

- "You kn-know," he says, not meeting your eyes as he fidgets with a loose thread on his sleeve, "y-you're not as bad as I th-thought."

- You laugh. "High praise coming from you."

- He finally looks at you, his expression unusually serious. "I mean it. You... you make all this c-crap a little easier to d-deal with."

- The kiss that follows is skeptical at first, as if neither of you can believe it's actually happening.

- But when he pulls back, there's a fondness in his eyes that makes your heart ache.

- Toby doesn't change totally, he's still brash, sarcastic, and occasionally infuriating.

- But he's also fiercely loyal, sticking close to you and showing his care in subtle ways, like leaving snacks outside your door or quietly patching you up after missions.

- "G-guess you're stuck with m-me now," he says one day, his smirk as annoying as ever.

- But the way he squeezes your hand tells you he means it in a way he doesn't know how to put into words.

SWANON IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING U WAIT THIS LONG😔😔

[kissbyoon]

𖼥ৎ⠀“TRUST ME?” ₍ ⠀𝒌.𝒎𝒈⠀ ₎

── ‘with him by your side, it's gonna be alright’

₍ ... ₎ EXPLORE? ✦ bf.gyu & f!rea ⋆◞ 𝒈. fluff, comfort · 𝒄𝒘. overwork, petnames ⎯⎯ 0.5k ꒱

리자: guys.... I wrote this like in aug 2024 and it's been stored away since then.. SOBS.

Mingyu entered the library near your apartment block, holding onto his breath, looking around.

You had been ignoring his texts for the past four hours, and when Mingyu came by your apartment to ask your roommate about you, she had no idea about your location.

He knew the library was the last place you'd be at, but having checked everywhere else, this was the only other place he could think of.

The library was… empty. And Mingyu's heart dropped at that. But a glimmer of hope spurred him to look further.

Finally coming to a halt, Mingyu breathed a sigh of relief as he noticed a similar tote bag with floral designs—specifically the one he had gifted you for your 3rd year anniversary, while you sat in a chair, your head resting on the desk, making your hair a mess.

He approached you, careful not to make any noise that might wake you up. Slowly brushing your hair away from your face, his hand caressed your cheek. However, when he saw your tear-stained face, his face fell.

“Baby?” His voice was soft as he knelt down, placing a hand on your thigh. You rub your eyes as they slowly open, and when they catch sight of your boyfriend, you gasp.

“Gyu...” you murmur, repositioning yourself on the chair before letting out a grunt from a headache.

“You haven't been responding to my calls or texts, I really—” he said, eyes softening when they met yours. “I got worried.” His gentle words were accompanied by him gently caressing your thigh.

“I'm sorry… I probably dozed off while doing my work.” You sighed, and looked at the paperwork lying on the desk in front of you. Mingyu followed your gaze, noticing the messy paperwork that didn't seem to be an easy task.

“It's just that I—” you groan, and drop your gaze to your hands on your lap. “I don't know why, I just… I just can't get it right.” A tear rolls down your cheek, and Mingyu immediately reaches out to wipe it away.

“I can't even find out what's going wrong, and it's all just a mess—” your voice broke, and you bit your lips to prevent the tears that threatened to fall again.

Before you could say anything else, Mingyu stood up and grabbed a chair to sit beside you. He gently wrapped an arm around your shoulder and rested one on the top of your head as he pulled you against his chest. His fingers gently tapped against your hair as you closed your eyes to relax.

“I know, baby,” he began in a quiet voice. All the softness you craved in this moment, was in his voice and touch. “I know it's not easy, and it's frustrating.” He took one of your hands in his and gently kissed the back of it.

“Do you trust me?” His voice tender as ever, he asked, satisfied upon receiving a nod in response. “Then come on, baby, we can do this.”

You stare at him, taking a deep breath. “You don't have to,”

But he was already looking at the paperwork, figuring out ways to solve it. “Do I look unreadable, because I want to.”

Your smile soon followed with his, and you began working again. But this time, with your love Mingyu helping you with everything.

A pouty, big baby Mingyu always has you smiling brightly—but also a Mingyu who can stand by your side when you're feeling down, makes you grateful for every single moment that you spend with him.

[multifictional]

A court of Burning Seasons || Part 2

— > eris vanserra × archeron!reader, lucien vanserra x elain archeron

• Part 2: at the human festival Elain is enjoying her time with Lucien while dealing with her dwelling emotions. In the meanwhile, y/n finds refuge in her loneliness but someone unexpected interrupts her.

• Summary: Y/n Archeron always felt the pull of autumn, even as a human. The fallen leaves, the warm colours, the spicy sweets, even her birthday. For Elain, it was the sun and the way of feeding her gardens and flowers with its light. Together in the Night Court after being thrown into the Cauldron, they both feel out of place. But while Elain has her growing bond with Lucien, y/n remains an outsider. With her powers still silents even after years, she feels a longing she can't quite place. A mating bond with Eris Vanserra is the last thing she expects and also what she seemed to need. But nothing is ever easy as it seems in Prythian, especially not with Beron impeding presence and courts rivalries always finding a way of creating complications.

• Warnings: an Elucien moment with building tension. Eris appearance is enough of a warning I suppose.

• Word count: 4943

[part 1]

The human lands weren’t as you remembered. It didn’t come as a surprise; after all, you hadn't been there during the war with the King of Hybern. Things had undoubtedly changed, like you always suspected. Years passed, and time always altered things, leaving a permanent mark behind, no matter what.

Staying a few steps behind, you followed the others into the village filled with the familiar sounds and smells that now seemed far too different. Feyre and Rhysand, as expected, led the group, their heads held high, looking like they owned the entire world, untouchable. You rolled your eyes at the sight. Sometimes, you missed the old Feyre, the version that wasn't so blinded by power.

Your gaze softened as it landed on your sister and Lucien, walking side by side, sharing a comfortable silence with their hands tucked together and fingers entwined. Their connection was undeniable, although hesitancy still loomed over them at every step.

You didn’t mind being the one left out, trailing a little behind. Loneliness never bothered you. If anything, the feeling of not being pampered was something you always welcomed with quiet pleasure. And today it felt a rare gift to breath, finally out from the Court of Dreams, even if you knew it wouldn't last more than a few hours.

Elain had been right. It was midst autumn in the human lands. The air smelled of decay and renewal, and as you walked silently, your heart began to thrum heavier than usual, in time with the rhythm of the fallen leaves you were scrounging below your feet.

Damn, how you had missed this sound.

You reached down to pick up a fallen leaf, inspecting it with quite reverence. It was deep brown, with veins of gold tracing the edges, still soft despite its dying state. It had fallen recently, not yet dry, but slowly wilting. Even in death, there was still life, and you always found comfort in that. To you, it symbolized the bittersweet balance between the endings and new beginnings.

Elain’s soft chuckle broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find her watching you with amusement. "Here you go," she teased softly. “I told you.”

“You like leaves?” Lucien asked, surprised.

Even after all this time, he still didn't fully understand you. Nobody did, not even yourself sometimes. You hesitated for just a moment, as much as you trusted your only friend, the question almost felt... personal.

But it was Elain who answered. She scoffed, but there wasn’t malice in her voice, just an affectionate knowing. “She always did. Ever since we were children. Always picking them up.”

Her openness in sharing this little detail you always kept so guarded made you stiffen slightly, a strange discomfort creeping in. But before you could retreat into yourself, Lucien's gentle smile reassured you. “Well, they are kind of magical.”

His voice grew suddenly quiet and his expression shifted into something nostalgic and thoughtful, his gaze clouding into something deeper than memories, taking him to another time, another place. As much as he hated his old court, it was still where he had learned how fragile life could really be, even for a Fae. The forest, with all its towering trees and fallen leaves, had always been his shelter, the only refuge untouched by his father cruelty.

Sensing the shift in the air, perhaps from the subtle tension in Lucien’s body or through the bond she was finally start to acknowledge, Elain squeezed his hand, the gesture grounding him back to the present. His smile returned, small but sincere, with the intention of brushing off the weight of his memories. Elain was too attentive to let go, but still, she didn’t press. If he was willing to give her time and space, then so would she.

"I can show you more than just trees here," Elain murmured, her voice a soft invitation while humans started to gather from their houses to approach the crowd and socialize. "We’re here for the festival, and I want to share it with you."

Lucien's heart thrummed at the idea. Even though the mansion that once belonged to the Archerons was destroyed by the war, they were still in the human lands. He thrived for the little moments he could get to simply stay with her, to learn more of how she saw her world, and of what it was really made of. Just the thought of sharing something new with Elain, something that would be theirs, filled his heart with a joy he never felt before.

Without realizing it, Lucien took a step closer to Elain and, to his surprise, she did the same. For a fleeting moment, the people around them faded away, leaving just the two of them, far away from the real world and on the edge of something deeper.

"Alright, alright, that's enough company for the night," you chimed in, unable to hold back a little chuckle, breaking their bubble. You could feel the tension hanging in the air and you couldn't help but tease. "I will leave you two alone."

You caught your sister's flustered reaction as you gave them an almost too exaggerated shrug before turning away without many ceremonies.

Elain's reaction wasn't lost on Lucien either. He had already promised he wouldn't press her, for any reason at all. So he made himself another promise: he wouldn't let his instincts, or even Elain's for that matter, to get the better of them before she was absolutely ready.

He almost kissed her. The thought sent a tightness through his chest. He had dreamed about how this very moment could happen many times. But he wouldn't let it happen like this. It was too soon. Too fast.

So Lucien found himself thankful for your timely interruption.

It was almost strange to think that, once, you had been among humans. And, more than that, that you had been one of them, living a life that should have been normal but wasn't. Years had passed, and everything changed. Your body, for instance. You were stronger now, a little taller, and sharper than before, in ways that weren't just physical. But you never cared about that. Not the way your sister did.

What would never change, though, was the feeling of not belonging. You still felt it, in every fiber of your body, as you stood in the village square, watching the humans dance beneath the lanterns and remembering how you used to share these same festivals. No matter where you were or how much the world around you changed, you always felt like an outsider looking in.

There was one thing that always felt right, someway. That made you feel less alone. And as the autumn wind brushed against your skin, cool and crisp, you remembered what it felt like. You stopped in the middle of the path and shrugged off your light jacket. Closing your eyes, you relaxed your shoulders, letting the welcoming sting of the wind and the scent of autumn settle something restless in you.

You had missed this feeling.

A familiar spicy scent made you hum appreciatively. It was a mix of spice and fire, deep and rich, but before you could savour it, reality hit you like a slap and your hands clenched at your sides. You perfectly remembered the day Feyre had returned to your family's mansion, asking for help. She had struggled to explain that mortal foods no longer satisfied her.

That's it, you swallowed down the bitterness you felt. I'm here, and I can't even eat the food. Now I belong even less. Amazing.

You exhaled sharply, but you barely had the time to finish the thought when someone brushed past you, his voice cutting through the din of the festival, just loud enough to be overheard.

"Sleeping on your feet in the middle of a party and blocking the path for everyone's enjoyment,” his words were dry of amusement, purposely mocking and laced with something sharper that seemed disdain. "Mortals never learned how to behave properly."

You blinked. Once. Twice. Your first instinct was to ignore him. Whoever he was, he couldn't possibly know that you had once been raised to act like a lady, or that you had been taking a moment to breathe the air that made you feel something, anything, before returning to the golden cage that was the Night Court.

Mortals. That's how he called you. And only a Fae could say something like that. So you found yourself calling him out, your tone calm but sharp enough to cut. Usually, you would have turned around and let people talk. After all, the Mother only knew how many times you had to do this with Feyre and her little Inner Circle.

But something, about his exact words, about him, made you react.

"I'm not a mortal, you asshat," you shot back, not bothering to raise your voice. If he was Fae, he would hear you just fine. "You should be able to recognize the difference instead of mumbling about manners."

You didn't wait for a response, you didn't even care if your words had reached him. You had already decided to walk away with the strange satisfaction of having spoken up after so much time and ready to disappear into the festival crowd.

But the Fae did hear you.

And, as you turned to walk away, a strange feeling made you glance over your shoulder at the exact same time he turned towards you. It was just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Your eyes met.

A flicker of color. Auburn hair, sharp face and an assessing gaze that burned like embers. Something in you tugged, deep and sudden, like a whisper of wind you couldn't quite catch, completely out of reach. It disappeared almost right away and you turned away first, pushing it into the back of your mind before, the moment already long gone.

Behind you, the stranger remained still, standing in the middle of the crowd like you had been before, his body rigid and his vision sharpened as his breath caught in his throat. He felt it, stronger than anything he ever felt. Something snapped right in the middle of his chest. He recognized it exactly for what it was: a bond.

The mating bond.

He didn't call out for you, he could't. He couldn't do anything other than staring at the place where you had been and disappeared before his very eyes. And for the fist time after so many centuries, the stranger was completely, utterly frozen in shock.

Lucien and Elain wandered through the market of the festival, the scent of spiced pastries filling their nostrils as they passed the stands. He glanced between the crows and Elain, her silence louder than the chatter around them. After their almost kiss she had withdrawn into herself again. Not entirely, but enough for him to feel it. He knew they would have to talk about what happened sooner or later, but he wouldn't press her. Not yet, anyway.

“Do you think y/n will be fine alone?” Elain murmured, her fingers twitching over the edge of her dress.

Lucien exhaled quietly and shook his head, seeing right though it. An excuse. A distraction from had nearly happened, perhaps to ease the tension between them, without addressing it directly.

And he let her have it. “You know your sister better than that," he said, turning slightly towards her. "She can handle herself just fine. And perhaps being alone is exactly what she is after.” He approached her with an hesitant a step, lowering his voice just a fraction. “Let’s not talk about her right now, alright?”

Elain’s eyes flickered up to his, uncertain but searching for something. Then, she nodded. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel. On one side, she did realize what would have happened if her sister didn't interrupt, and she felt relieved. On the other side, though, the excitement for the novelty of their relationship lingered inside her. She thrived to discover the depth of what it could really be, without blaming their bond and her trauma for it.

Without realizing it, her hand grazed his arm, a featherlight touch that sent something twist in Lucien's chest. He went still, forcing himself to breathe and to not lean into it too much, although his instincts roared otherwise. Enjoy this, no expectation of any sort, he had to remind himself, do not ruin this opportunity.

They drifted towards a small, hidden garden close enough to the main road, its entrance framed with twisting ivy and golden leaves. Lucien wasn't surprised. In the short time he had truly known Elain, he had recognized her pull towards nature, especially gardens and flowers. It was one of the many things that called him to her. There was something about gardening, a simplicity, that was so Elain.

Lucien felt her hand slipping away and he immediately felt the absence of her warmth. The bond had always been strong for him. For Elain it was quieter, something resting just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to snap into place. But for him, it was a living thing, a force he had to keep tamed so it wouldn't consume him whole. And now, at their first date, he felt it pulling towards her like a non ending force.

He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her, but his smile didn't falter, as Elain walked through the garden and kneeled. When she stood, he was beside her in an instant, not hovering, just curious. She was holding delicately a dry sunflower.

"This shouldn't have been here," she murmured sadly, almost to herself, tracing the petals gently with gentleness, as if it was something sacred, something suffering an atrocious pain. "There wasn't enough sun. It died without it."

Lucien tilted his head. "You like sunflowers?"

Elain smiled despite herself/a small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips. "Y/n showed them to me where we were kids. She had realized they seemed to be around in autumn."

"Your sister has an eye for detail."

She smiled smugly/Elain let out a soft, amused huff. "Oh, she still does. Even if she doesn't seem like it/pretends otherwise," she shook her head, but her smile faltered/faded as she looked back down at the flower. "It soon became my favorite flower."

He studied her, his voice careful. "And why is it?"

Elain hesitated, as if considering whatever or not to answer, but then she quietly responded. She heard the cautious and pure curiosity in his tone, and it warmed her heart. She was glad it wasn't the bond influence, but simply him, wanting to know her as a person first, and later as a mate. In that very moment, she didn't mind either of them.

"They remind me of the sun," there was a strange confidence in her eyes. "And, without it, we wouldn't have flowers of any kind. Nothing would grow. The sunlight feeds the flowers, and it feeds us too."

In the unmistakable silence that followed, something in her eyes shone as she met his gaze. "I know it was you," she said softly, still holding the sunflower. "It was you who told Feyre I should spend time outside. When you came the first time to the Night Court," she turned the flowers between her fingers. "I should thank you for that, because it had worked. You understood what I needed without even knowing me."

Lucien swallowed, stiffening slightly. He hadn't expected her to mention it. His throat felt tight as he remembered. Mother, he did remember far too well how small she had seemed back then. Like a shadow of herself, a shell so close to herself nobody knew how to open even a little bit. He remembered how she addressed their bond without even realizing, how she said nonchalantly he could hear his heartbeat, perhaps even hearing how it has skipped a beat at those very words. It was when his mating instincts flared for the first time.

You reminded me too much of my mother, he thought, but didn't dare say it out loud. The memory of her sending painful stabs into his heart. Alone and trapped in her own court, unable to step out from the shadows, trapped by a cruel a fate she didn't chose.

He had know what she needed. Even then, he had always been the only one who actually did. Even more than y/n.

"You don't need to thank me. Sometimes what we need isn't obvious, even to the people who are supposed to love us," he muttered, making the silence linger for a second. "I just realized how clear it was that all you needed was fresh air and time. That's all."

Elain exhaled, a barely audible sound. "And yet, they didn't. You were the one who realized. Not them. You."

Lucien looked didn't know what to say to that. So instead, he reached for sunflower in her hand and gently took it. "This isn't dead," he murmured, assessing it. Elain saw his mechanical eye concentrating and then, with a flick of his fingers, a golden thinner of magic passed over the petals, before passing it to her with a knowing smile. "It just needs time to reshape. But it's in good hands now."

Elain looked at the flower, then him, understanding gnawing at her. He had used his magic to heal it. For her. It wasn't dead, but it had been at the bridge of dying, but she had picked it up just in time. Lucien had understood what her heart wished without her saying it aloud.

"Or..." Lucien added after some seconds. "You could keep it as a memory from the human lands. To remind yourself that just because your life changed doesn't mean you have to forget who you were. Because it's still part of you." He reached out and tackled the sunflower carefully into her hair. "It suits you. It's radiant, just like you."

A flush deepened on Elain's neck. She was closer now. Close enough for him to see the way her gaze flickered from his eye to his lips. Lucien's chest tightened at the sight, as he felt it through the bond. Her excitement. Her curiosity. Now even stronger than before.

But her wouldn't rush this. He wanted to do this right.

"Shouldn't we check on y/n?" he asked instead. He didn't step back, but he didn't move forward either.

Elain grimaced slightly, glancing at the forgotten festival, not ready to leave the garden behind yet. "Do we really have to?"

Lucien smirked at her quiet tone, startled by the sudden vulnerability in her tone. "You know we do."

She sighed, but the, hesitantly yet deliberately, she reached for his hand. Lucien swallowed hard, trying to push down his instincts that were now in overdrive at her gesture, at her willingness to try, to understand the bond. It was a tortuous dance between patience and restraint, but he would wait, because she was worth it. But even so, walking beside her, hearing her laugh, feeling her delicate and at times hesitant touch, seeing her eyes sparkle with a light that he had longed to see, it was more than he deserved, and less than he craved.

Yet, he wouldn't take it for granted. Not ever. Elain needed this, even if she didn't yet realize it herself. He wouldn't let her excitement rush her into things she wasn't ready for. She wanted to understand things first, she had said it clearly, and for that to happen, she needed time. They both needed it.

Lucien wanted to take things slowly, to get to know her, even if that meant fighting his own nature. But he would do that for her. But he couldn't deny what he couldn't still fully believe. They were together. They were a couple. The word still felt almost foreign to him, unreal. But it was happening. She had given him a chance, and he wouldn't let anything, anything at all, get in between.

He was with her. And that alone, to him, was all that mattered.

You walked between the stands of the human festival, ignoring the chatters that flowed all around you. The deep purple of your dress trailed over the paving stone paths, the hem rustling through the fallen leaves. In the end, you hadn't been able to resist your own urges and you now stood in the line at one of the food stalls.

A few moments later, a warm cinnamon roll sat in your hands, the scent rich with spice. You took a bite, but it didn't taste as you remembered, like you expected. Not entirely bad, but still, different. Like most things since your transition. Yet you had seen it and you couldn't help it. The simple sweet flavor had been a staple of your childhood, a small comfort in a life were belonging didn't exist for you.

But it wasn't enough. The feeling you sought didn't come, and you knew the reason. It was because it wouldn't last long. Nothing ever did. Still, you were determined to steal a few moments of peace away from Velaris, from the suffocating cage of the Court of Dreams.

Then, suddenly, you smelled it.

A scent, faint but unmistakable, that you would recognize everywhere: smoke and burning woods. It made your stomach tighten.

The vendor recognized the wrinkle of your nose and the way you stopped eating. "Is there something wrong, milady?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his careful politeness and the tremble of his voice. Despite all Feyre's efforts, humans still feared the fate, and they didn't bother hide it from you. Or, perhaps, you just observed too much. You didn't cover your years like your sister and her company, you didn't soften your presence, and you couldn't care less whatever they recognized what you had become or not.

It wasn't your problem.

You scoffed. "No need to hide the fear, sir. If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have the chance to ask." The vendor paled, taken aback by your attitude, and you just smirked. "Something is burning around here, anyway," you added nonchalantly.

it was a passing customer that, overhearing the interaction, interjected, clearly oblivious to your nature. "Oh, that's just the fire show right around the corner of the next street."

The shoddy cinnamon roll fell from your hands as your heart jolted. You didn’t bother picking it up, your legs started to move even before your mind could even catch up, the scent guiding you.

Fire show? You nearly laughed at the coincidence. The human festival had dozens of pretty performances: music, dancing, puppet shows, cooking competitions. But this? You couldn’t miss it for the world. Not after so many years, even if it wouldn’t been the same anymore.

As soon as you approached, your breath caught in your throat. Flames danced above some dancer heads, curling, twisting in the night cool air and casting golden lights over the onlookers.

It felt magical, even if there wasn’t magic in it. Not there. Just some tricks to fool the villagers, especially kids. Just (sleight) of capable hands and well placed oil. Just fire. Raw, bright and untamed.

And it called to you, challenging you to come closer. And you accepted the call instantly. Without even comprehending what you were doing, you stepped forward, drawn to the lingering flames, your fingers just about to reach for them.

"I wouldn't do it, if I were you," a voice, deep and edged with amusement, stopped you cold. You blinked, startled, as you realized how the heat of the flames were close to your skin, the fire licking towards your outstretched hand, ready to burn. "Fire burns hotter when it knows it has an audience," the voice continued, smooth as the smoke surrounding the place. "Especially curious little foxes like you. You wouldn't want to be the ash it leaves in behind."

You retreated your hand, but didn't step back. The heat of the fire wasn't bothering you at all.

"Foxes are curious, but they're also clever," you said, hand still hovered near the fire. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

"And perhaps that's exactly what it was," he chuckled.

Not bothering to answer his comment, you brought your attention back to the show, refusing to indulge him further. "Maybe I didn't mind getting burned, and you just ruined my fun."

A growl made you turn, confused rather than scared. The male stood in front of the first line of villagers, several paces away, watching you with open amusement. Yet, no one was close enough to him. It was as if the air around him carried an aura of unspoken warning, a power that unconsciously warned people to stay at by. It was silent, predatory. Even the fire beside you burned hotter, stirred by his presence.

His auburn air caught the firelight, framing the sharp and elegant figures. Russet eyes, keen and knowing. Recognition slammed into you roughly. It was him. The same male who had sneered at you earlier, calling you mortal.

Your lips curled in irritation. "Oh, you're finished complaining about human manners? Or are you here to critique something else? The way I stand, perhaps?" you remarked.

The male smirked, taking an unhurried step toward you while you refused to move. "A mistake on my part," he admitted, his voice like an intentional purr. "You're anything but mortal, are you?" he tilted his head, studying you thoroughly. "And lacking entirely of self preservation, it seems."

"And what would you know about self preservation?"

A shadow flickered across his expression. It was something distant, unreadable and quick. The second later it was gone, replaced by his impassivity. "Everything and nothing."

Your brow lifted. "Wow, how enlightening," you said, turning back to the flames once again. He chuckled lowly, indulgent, in response. You had expected him to lose interest, but instead he moved closer and in a second he was standing so close to you that your arms nearly brushed. A sigh escaped your lips. "Go bother someone else."

He didn't back down. "But I'm enjoying myself," you shot him a glare, but he ignored it. "If you want to see real fire, you should seek someone who really understand its power."

You rolled your eyes, irritation flaring. "This show is made without the advantage of magic. By mortals," you pointed out, mimicking his earlier sneer and gaining just a smirk from his part. "Not everyone can say they could. Not everyone needs magic to wield fire."

"Not everyone is born with it in their veins, but perhaps..." his voice lowered and his eyes flickered with something almost knowing but still unreadable. "Perhaps you're just a little flame waiting to ignite."

You scoffed, but it felt hollow. You faced him, your eyes sharpening, more assessing. Your heart was too loud in your years, too irregular, even for a fae. Something about this male made you think.

And then it all clicked.

He wasn't just some male. His air. His eyes. The sharp angles of his face. He did look familiar. Not because you had met him before the festival, but because you had seen those features before. Not on him. On someone else. Someone closer to you, your only friend. Lucien.

As the puzzle completed inside your head, the gasp that left your throat was unfiltered. Your pulse lost a beat.

Not just some fae, but Eris Vanserra.

Eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court and its legitimate heir to the throne. A male wrapped in a thousand of rumors and stories, none of them kind. Not that you cared, anyway. In your eyes, stories will always be stories, and everyone is capable of making them. Especially someone like the Inner Circle of the Night Court.

Eris expression turned smug, your thoughts given away. "Figured it out, have you?"

You didn't answer directly. "I'm not a little flame. And even if I was, you would never know."

"Oh, I most certainly would."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice called your name. Elain's figure was walking with purpose towards you, a few step ahead from her mate. Lucien's face darkened as soon as he spotted Eris standing too close to you, tension instantly crackling between them.

"Lady Elain," Eris mused. "And my little brother, too."

Lucien's voice was cool. Too cool. "Eris."

"Enjoying yourself?" Eris drawled, his gaze moving to Elain. "About time."

His brother's jaw tensed. "What do you want?"

Eris only chuckled. "I would be careful if I were you, little brother. History has a way of repeating itself."

It wasn't his usual wit taking place. It was a warning.

Lucien stiffened. A silent conversation passed between them, one layered with too much history, too much left unsaid. Then, just as smoothly as he appeared, Eris turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

A silent conversation passed between the Vnserras, one that left even Lucien confused. He knew though how Eris acted, he knew his ways. He knew that there was a hidden meaning behind his words not just his past and the pain that caused him. It was something else. Eris gave his back to the three of them without adding more, glancing a last glance at you before disappearing into the crowd.

Elain scoffed sharply. "He isn't subtle at all."

Absolutely not.

Feyre and Rhysand returned right in that moment, their smug expressions telling you their meeting had gone well. Of course. In one way or another, they always got their way. Every fucking time, no matter the situation.

"We're ready to go," said Feyre, satisfied. "Home awaits us."

Home. Velaris never was that for you. And neither had the human lands. Then why you felt the hole in your chest grew bigger? Why was it so hard to not look back? Why you had to push down the strange tug at your heart, the same one that told you to stay?

And, more specifically, why did it felt as if winnowing back to the Night Court was the greatest mistake of all?

A.N: I apologize for the delay and for the length, I will try to make the next shorter (if I can). I was actually feeling very nervous and insecure about posting this, but I hope you liked Eris first appearance and his first interaction with the reader. Let me know if you liked it and your opinion if you would like, it means a lot to me. And thank you if read until here!

Taglist is always open <3

Taglist: @wrenisrad @antisocial-architect @homeslices @fox-in-flowers @thecraziestcrayon @bunnyredgirl @lizzytish82 @lportes-22 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @iowaladynerd @samuelseoswife @abbott976 @marrass @rcarbo1 @the-fandom-ness @selena-24 @sushijimaaa @elisabethch82

[loop-lover-central]

Go look here for the original idea but uh fanfic yippee!

Thank you all for 300 followers!!! I hope you enjoy chapter 1

Warnings: A corpse(not graphic but it is there), canon typical self hatred, lot of grieving.

(You wake with a start.)

(Why...are you awake?)

(WHY ARE YOU AWAKE!?!?!?)

(You sit up quickly and look around. The meadow. THAT STUPID BLINDING MEADOW!!!!!!!!)

(You stumble upwards as quickly as you can and look around. No, you have to get out of here! You can be here anymore!! It was supposed to be over!!!)

(... Stardust. Where's stardust?)

(You close your eyes and focus, trying to see where they are. But  you cant.)

(Maybe... he's asleep! Yes! Just asleep so you can't see through his eye right now! Hehe always so sleepy, that one!!)

(You'll just... call him and wake him up! Of course!)

(You form your super special secret sign and hold it up to your head. You feel the craft tingle slightly in your digits)

(And you wait.)

(And wait.)

(And wait.)

(You feel a horrible sinking feeling.)

(You take a shaky breath as you drop your arm. Ok. That's...fine! That's ok! Maybe he's just super tired after that little quarrel you two had! Teehee, that was quite the brawl!)

(Maybe you need to be a little more pushy! You focus and try to beam right into their head instead. You've never done this to them while they were sleeping but... It should wake him up in no time!)

(Except you can't find it. You! Can't! Find! It!)

(Why can't you find Siffrin!?)

(... No. No no no no NO!!!)

(Before you even know it your feet are moving. You blitz out of the meadow and rush through the town, not caring about the weird looks you're definitely getting.)

(You leap over the broken bridge and stumble, but you keep going.)

(You skid to a halt at the clock tower, breathing ragged. You almost burst in before realizing you shouldn't. You can't. Not anymore.)

(You start to frantically knock at the door. Please, PLEASE, SOMEONE, ANYONE, ANSWER THE-)

(The door pulls open. And there stands the Researcher- No. Odile.)

Loop: M-madame! Oh thank the stars you- 

(At first glance you couldn't tell anything was wrong but... her eyes are a bit glossy. She's just ever-so-slightly disheveled, which is more than she typically allows. And that almost all but confirms your worst nightmares.)

Loop: ...Where's Siffrin?

(She doesn't look you in the eye. She merely steps aside to let you past her. You hesitate before stepping inside.)

(At the table Bonnie is clinging to Isabeau, crying. He's trying his hardest to stay strong for them but you can see the tears threatening to spill.)

(Your eyes meet. And for a brief moment he looks so heartbroken. If you could you'd probably throw up right about now.)

(He goes back to worrying about Bonnie, without even a greeting towards you, and you head further into the clock tower.)

(You reach the bedroom, the door open just a crack. You hear sniffling inside.)

(You slowly open the door. And there, Mirabelle sat on the floor, face buried into the sheets of the bed Siffrin was laid on.)

(You suddenly feel gravity pulling you down harder than it ever has. Like the very world itself was willing you to stay away.)

(But you refuse. You slowly step over. Mirabelle sits up and quickly turns to face you when the old floor creaks under your weight.)

(How weird. You used to be so light.)

Mirabelle: ... Loop?

(She asks softly through her tears. Hearing that name from her mouth stings worse than anything. Salt and lemon juice and alcohol in your wounds. But you put it aside.)

(You step over and slowly kneel down next to her.)

Loop:... What happened?

(She immediately bursts back into tears and hides into your chest. You suppress the urge to flinch.)

Mirabelle: I don't know! I don't know!! He... He was doing fine when he left to see you but... when he came back he just- 

(Your blood, or whatever it is running through you at this point runs cold. No. No it couldn't be-)

Mirabelle: They just kept getting weaker and weaker and nothing we did would work!! Even the head housemaiden couldn't help-

(You slowly turn to look at him. He looks... So. Peaceful. It makes you seethe. How could he? How could he do this to them! To you! They were supposed to get better!!! Be better!!! Do more than you ever could!!!)

(You reach over and carefully touch his arm. They're. Not. Even. Cold. The universe didn't even wait for him to start cooling off before dragging you back into the fray.)

(It makes you sick.)

Mirabelle: Loop, please tell me you can do something! A-anything! Please-!

(She begs, finally sitting back up.)

Mirabelle: You have some super secret way to help him? That's why you're back, right!? A-and everything going to be ok-

(The look you give her immediately makes her stop talking.)

Loop: ...I'm sorry, Mirabelle.

(The look she gives you is enough to make your own vision blur with tears. You quickly blink them away. No. You don't deserve to cry. This is all your fault. This is all your fault. Everything is always your fault.)

(You useless, useless, useless star! If you'd just ever done just one good thing in your life this wouldn't be happening!)

(If you weren't such a selfish monster you wouldn't have been put in this position. None of you would be here.)

[vampworks]

Playing games you can't win

Pairing: Caleb x Reader

w/c: 1.1K

A/n: me and that chip have beef, also Caleb and dog coded love has me like charlie day at that red string board.

Summary:After three week of Caleb trying to win you over, you finally have enough. He quickly finds that he can't handle it.

Warning: Toxic love, pipspeak as a pet name, mourning, intimacy, angst, Caleb gets very little comfort

The push and pull was far too much. The heat was far too much. For three weeks, the two of you had been 'playing house' in Caleb's sad condo above the city. Your mission was long since ruined by the colonel, so your days were spent watching Wontony float around. You'd ask the poor robot questions about a man it seemed you both had just met.

'The Colonel was a cold, calculating shell of a man you couldn't stand. All attempts to draw a reaction were pointless. A cup thrown and shattered at his chest. His response? Nothing but an empty grin and tease. Caleb on the other hand, was all heat. He is just as touchy as he was when you were kids if not more. When he did appear, he'd test how far you would let him. His large hands carefully tread down your shoulders only to rest above the small of your waist. He stops completely, staring into your eyes and searching (Pleading) for approval. It hasn't come.

The once-narrowed eyes completely softened leaving behind a starved dog begging for anything akin to touch. You could have called him pathetic at the sight of him on his knees; hell, he sure does. The two of you were so close. Caleb was practically vibrating while pawing you in every place he could. Lilac eyes traced the curve of your jaw and neck as if you'd break if he lost even a moment of control. The epitome of every slow-burn romance you had forced him to see growing up. Each of those followed the same pattern. He studied each one just as closely as planes or bugs in the backyard.

meet-cute

build-up

some kind of misunderstanding breaking the progression and the two separate

The problem is resolved, and the music swells.

The big kiss

pg-13 rated makeout scene

and they ride off into the sunset

He had tried so hard to follow the plan. Maybe then you fall for him like he had from the start. Nothing about this "resurrection" has gone right so far, so here we are back at the starting line every time Caleb falls to catch himself. Far too much Far too soon

So he'll wait for you to make the first move. He'll wait like he always has, but now it kills him to know you're finally seeing him as the crazed man he is. No more hiding, no more wishing from afar.

Now is the time to call in reinforcements, so movie night it is. Don't ask how long it took to organize a full weekend off, but for you, it was more than worth it.

'10 things I hate about you' is on the screen before you both. The smell of braised chicken was still in the air from dinner as Caleb slowly inches his way to your side of the couch. By the time Heath Ledger sings on the bleachers, his left arm slowly comes to rest on the back of the couch. behind your head. After bickering over whether Cruel Intentions or Pretty Woman should be next, somehow your legs just fell into his lap. Oh no, guess you'll just have to leave them there because' the movie is starting. It seems 'Cruel Intentions' won while you aren't looking.

you were so focused on his dorky grin and teasing that he won again with his evol. The man chokes down a snort as the title card plays, but you only glare and huff. It's a small thing, but it only sets him back further behind as the memory of him holding your legs down with it comes crawling back up. Seeing red, you storm off. Sure, you're a sore loser, but dear God, can you have one night without feeling weak compared to him? Without the thought of the colonel.

He follows you throughout the apartment with a racing heart. He begs for another chance for you to just see things his way. His words go in one ear and out the other as you pack your things, practically shoving them back into your luggage. He stops you in the doorway, falling to his knees. "Please, let me fix this. I love you more than you could ever know. All of this has been for you." Large trembling fingers grasp around your legs, his head pressed into your waist. "Let go, Caleb." You muttered through gritted teeth. You couldn't play this game anymore. You weren't the kid he left behind, and he was the boy you had spent a year mourning. He only held tighter. "You don't understand, pip. I just got you back. How in the hell am I suppose' to live without you again?" He barked. You scoffed. "That's the thing. You can't fathom the idea of me gone, but I had to bury you. That's why I will always win this little game,huh?" You lift his head with your fingers beneath his chin. He lets out something like a whine. A new dark thought now surfaced: you'd give him exactly what he wanted from the start. You'd be his while you held his leash.

You bend down to kiss him. It's rough and heated. Nothing like those movies before. A disgusting mess of teeth clashing and you biting his lip till it bleeds. Neither of you pulled away for air, now in a game of who would own the other and who was a coward. Caleb seems to break as tears threaten to fall down the apple of his cheeks. Every voice in his head screams out to grab you and never let go, but he doesn't. He told you that any pain you gave him was a gift to be cherished, and this was no different.

Soon enough, the man is a mess, gazing back up at you as you pull away. "Breathe, Caleb. I love you too." Your voice is sickeningly sweet as your hands find purchase in his hair, soothing him. "Bye~." The door slams,

A second later, you're gone down the hall, bring up a finger to swipe away the blood.

There's a gaping hole in my chest. A you-sized hole that aches and calls out to be filled. For years I watched over you as a dog guarding its flock. My teeth and claws protected you from the wolves all around but I was just as hungry as them. I longed for your taste as I kissed your wounds. I dreamt of your touch as you hugged me. My eyes are tearing into your flesh just as they would. I am no better, but maybe You have always known this and loved me anyway. Maybe your love will absolve my sins.

[neege]

i need more!!!!! wolstar + Sirius almost dies <3

And more you shall have!! This was so challenging for me because I usually find it a lot easier to write humor, but I hope I did this justice!!! ❤️

"Remus."

God there's so much blood. How can someone losing this much blood still be alive?

"Remus, baby."

There's so much blood!

And it's not stopping. He's throwing every single healing spell he can at it, but he didn't see the spell when it was cast, and all he has on him is his wand. He doesn't even see anything nearby that can stop the bleeding. His shirt is already soaked in it.

God, he's bleeding everywhere.

"Moony..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry I'm trying everything I can, I know it must hurt-"

"Moony, my love..."

Remus feels shaking fingers skim his cheek. The coolness against his face lets him know that there's now blood—Sirius's blood—smeared where his fingers have touched.

"I'm trying! I'm trying just hang on-"

"Baby, look at me..."

Remus doesn't.

He focuses instead at the gaping wounds carved into Sirius's skin. He's helplessly moving his wand over the body below him, racking his useless fucking brain for anything, anything that will help. That will save-

"Remus, please look at me."

It's the please that finally rips Remus's gaze away from the injuries he's desperately trying to heal.

Sirius is breathing in ragged, painful wheezes, but his eyes are clear. He looks into deep grey eyes, dark like storm clouds, and feels his own well up immediately.

"Have I-" Sirius's voice is weak, "Have I ever told you..."

It looks like it's taking every last bit of his energy to get words out, but he's smiling slightly. Something sad and tired and resigned.

Remus can feel the grip on his fingers get tighter.

"You know, you look so- so sexy when you're freaking out."

Remus let's out a startled laugh that dissolves into a gasping sob.

He collapses onto Sirius, gripping his shoulders, his hair, any part of him he can reach as if he'll be able to keep all the life in him from bleeding out under his hands.

"Sirius, I'm so-" He lets out a broken sound, and it's loud in the empty room. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"My love-"

"I'm so sorry, I can't fix it, I'm so sorry-"

He cries and cries, all the while Sirius is murmuring any and every word of affection he's ever said to Remus; like he needs to get them all out now. Like he'll never have another chance.

Baby-

My love-

Moony, darling-

I love you-

"I love you, I'm sorry, I love you-"

Remus feels Sirius go slack in his arms moments before he's ripped away from him—kicking and screaming and probably doing more damage than anything else.

He sobs into James's shoulder first, still standing in the safe house they were ambushed in just an hour before. He's covered in blood and can feel the rage in James's voice as he screams at Moody to leave them alone for fucks sake!

Then he cries again, this time with Lily. They're sitting in the waiting room at St. Mungos.

He cries now, gripping Sirius's hand while he lays motionless in a hospital bed. He's been waiting here for days, and every time he thinks he's done crying, the image of Sirius bleeding out beneath his fingers flashes behind his eyes.

The only sounds to be heard are from the healers in the hallway outside, and the small brokenhearted noises Remus is letting out as he cries.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're sexy when you're in distress?"

A croaky voice speaks, and Remus whips his head up to stare at the exhausted smile on his boyfriend's face.

"Sirius!" He's climbing onto the bed before he can even think about whether or not it might hurt the other man, "Sirius, oh my god! You were dead Sirius-"

"Well, you can't get rid of me that easy-"

"Oh my god, you were dead and I didn't know what to do, I couldn't fix it, I'm sorry-"

Sirius shushes him gently at that.

There are tears streaming down his face, and Sirius reaches shaky fingers up to wipe them away. They're both quiet for a beat.

"Is it an inappropriate time to mention that you crying gets me all hot under the collar?"

Remus laughs, smiling so big it hurts his cheeks, and leans down to pepper kisses across Sirius's face.

His forehead first. Then his nose. His jaw. His cheeks. His eyelids. His brow.

His lips.

In a moment he'll call in the healers. They'll want to look him over and check his wounds. He'll need to notify James, Lily, and Peter—they'd all gone home for a change and a shower—and the Order will need to be called as well.

Remus doesn't move to do any of that.

For just a little while longer he'd like to feel Sirius underneath his lips—so beautiful and brave, and so very alive.

[your-turn-to-role]

if it helps at all (reblogging directly from you starry bc can't tag you) - as someone who gave up on it pretty early on bc it wasn't really my thing, i have been wanting to look up more positive opinions on the campaign recently, i've just been really busy so haven't had time to respond to anything but what's on my dash, which yeah is a lot of critique, and with what i do know there's definitely stuff i'm not a fan of, sure

but also like. the critical role cast aren't some corporation just trying to squeeze money out of this show, like a lot of the things c3 has been compared to are

while they could have, in retrospect, probably made better decisions to really pull off whatever they were going for, they're also playing the game that makes them happiest (and they're putting it all online for free it's not like they're obligated to follow the fans' ideas of what should happen)

if you enjoyed it all start to finish, you're honestly a perspective i'd like to see round tumblr more! you're seeing what the cast see in this narrative and that definitely doesn't make you wrong or stupid. if there was no value in this story whatsoever they would have stopped a long time ago

as megs said, being able to articulate an opinion well doesn't make it objective truth. god knows i can pull out a million references for any of my essays but when i write them it's always gonna be me shining light on a specific angle of the narrative that appeals to me. other people can choose to pick a different angle and still be just as right, regardless of whether or not it's something i personally would enjoy looking at. and that's even more true in a fandom like this, where every narrative is in fact 7+ narratives that we hope will weave together well, and there's a million things to focus on that haven't all been handpicked by the creators for the sake of telling a singular story

if you're seeing an angle a lot of people aren't focusing on, hell, celebrate that! i love hearing about the moments that genuinely appealed to people, it just feels like there's been fewer and fewer of them focused on bells hells the longer the story went on. but i've also been in fandoms where i truly genuinely enjoyed the ending of a particular story and thought it was well told the whole way through, and then it turned out 99% of the fandom thought the ending was rushed and it ruined the whole thing, so i definitely get how that can feel a bit crushing and like you're fighting a tidal wave

(and hell to your tags about being worried c3 will become an automatic skip in the fandom - i also really love a lot of the c1 episodes before ep24 and think there's some great character stuff there that a lot of people skip bc orion or because the briarwood arc is where it gets 'good', so im with you on that one. it sucks but it doesn't mean i can't talk about, say, trial of the take, there still are and always will be people in the fandom who've watched it, and there will be even more people who didn't watch it but are glad to find out what's in it because they couldn't find out themselves)

so yeah all to say if you ever wanted to write about c3 stuff you loved, im on your side here

if you're just sad that the fandom reaction to stuff you liked has been overwhelmingly negative, that's also fine, and doesn't make you any less a valued member of this fandom

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when no developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

[timbreworks]

Soft Dusk

Glinda lay in bed with her partners, snuggled up to Elphabas chest, her wifes arm around her with Fiyero at her back, one arm holding a sleeping Liir to his chest and the other around Glinda as well.

The blonde caresses Elphabas swollen belly as she lies awake. One would think her thoughts are troubled, but not tonight. tonight she simply couldn't go back to sleep after going to the bathroom. She has the whole next two days set aside to spend time with her partners and Liir, plenty of family activities planned, both indoors and out.

But for now she just lets her hand wander over the smooth, taut skin of Elphabas very pregnant stomach, she can feel their child moving ever so slightly, every now and then gently pressing up against her hand. Elphaba told Glinda she could feel their bond already. How their child soon calmed at her presence.

While Liir was an easy pregnancy for her first one, he was still very active during the later months and there was not much anyone could do about it. not even Fiyero caressing and speaking to the unborn child. but Glinda, Glinda can keep the restless kicks and punches at bay to keep her wife comfortable. and right now that's all she could ask for.

Glinda slides down Elphabas body to kiss over her belly, their child softly touching where her lips rest "My darling little one. Hi. its your Popsicle, you're doing so great for your Mumsie, your brother was so much trouble, but you're nice and calm. I wonder if she was like this, calm, quiet" she murmurs directly against Elphabas belly, caressing up along the sides to her ribs and then back down.

The good witch goes back up to snuggle against her wifes ribs, content to stay under the covers and sleep right here on her. Is she going to overheat? Probably. does she care? Never.

Glinda ends up falling asleep cupping elphabas belly under the navel. Her head under a breast, snoring away. For once its Elphaba that wakes up in a hot flash, trying to sit up, but finding herself pinned under her darling wife, the boys having kicked off the blankets and turned to the far side of the bed where Glindas radiant heat can't touch them.

She manages to sit up enough to caress glindas sweaty head, booping her nose "My sweet" she whispers simply, and Glinda groans awake at just the utterance of her pet name "Darling?" she groans as she stretches and hugs her "Mmmm, warm" she murmurs into her rib, having enough wherewithal to dodge a nipple. "Too warm" Glinda groans, wrestling with the blanket to throw it off.

"You know its bad when i wake up before you. and you chased away our boys" Elphaba teases as she gestures to the other end of the bed "More room for us" Glinda murmurs as she discards the blanket and spoons to her wifes side "I love this…but you're sticky" Elphaba murmurs as she kisses her cheek "I don't care, we can deal" Glinda murmurs, going to kiss her lips fully.

Despite being around 8 months pregnant, Elphaba can still pick up Glinda, even with as long and lanky as she is, taking her to her favorite chase lounge to snuggle in "Here, now we have all the room, a cool surface to lay upon and we won't smother our husband and son" Elphaba teases as Glinda clings to her side "You're right" she yawns "This is much better" she says as she entwines their legs, an arm around the back of her neck, a hand on her belly and her face tucked into her neck.

Glinda is out in moments, leaving Elphaba to caress and watch her wife sleep. Thinking about their future, how much fun this is going to be, how everything paid off. How she did find a place where she belonged, with her partners, their child, soon to be children. With only a few people hating her existence.

Sometimes she wishes her father and Nessa were around to see her flourish, but she knows they're better off dead and gone, because while yes, it would be satisfying to shove this in their faces, it wouldn't do anything, she still wouldn't be good enough for them. However, she is good enough to the two people that truly matter, the two people she shares her heart, her life and her bed with. With them everything is finally right in Oz

[tc9972]

Nils Höglander random textpost

1, A happy place for avid hunter Nils Höglander is quietly stalking a moose in the northern wildness of Sweden.

2, This ten-minute long video is mostly delightful. Höglander is pretty quiet and reserved with the media, largely because he’s dealing with not only a new team, but a new country and a language with which he’s still not fully comfortable. The video gives some insight into his personality and how his teammates view him.

But then, about two minutes into the video, there’s a moment that defies comprehension.

Höglander takes a water bottle and sprays both his socks and the inside of his skate before putting it on.

3, “I guess I have to say hockey is the hardest,” said Hoglander. “But if you’ve never been out in the forest or anything, it’s kind of hard to know what to do. If you bring Petey (Elias Pettersson) he would have no idea what to do, he’s a city boy.”

4, Q. Do you have a hidden talent? Music or cooking?

A. I’m not into music at all in doing it by myself (instrument). I would always say something outdoors. I’m a big unicycle guy. I have one. That’s my hidden talent.

5, Nils Höglander pulled in a decent crop of votes for the team’s biggest Swiftie, as he was nominated by Erik Brännström, Aatu Räty, and Elias Pettersson. He later claimed that “Love Story” was his favourite song by her. Höglander’s history with being a fan of Swift dates back to a TikTok posted last year, in which he said he’d rather meet her than her boyfriend, Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce.

6, Nils Höglander Spotify Wrapped- “Viva La Vida” by Soppgirobygget

I don’t know what I expected but it certainly wasn’t this.

I guess I expected this to be a cover of “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay. Instead, it’s a dance track that interpolates “Misirlou” by Dick Dale, then throws in a bridge that’s basically just the chorus of “Whoomp! (There It Is)” by Tag Team.

This is a straight-up party song and it’s a lot of fun, even if the lyrics are hilariously crass. While mostly in Norwegian, there are a few English phrases thrown in, like “Bitch, make it clap.”

Here are a couple choice phrases from the song translated into English via Google Translate: “Big babes, big drinks, big asses make me happy,” “Shake the bum and I’ll post it on Snap,” and “I have a skull fracture and proven gonorrhea.”

7, Then there are the unicycles. Höglander has a knack for juggling while unicycling, as well as stickhandling while on a unicycle. It’s a talent shared by Pettersson, whose dad could ride a unicycle, so he taught himself to do it as well. 

“The unicycle thing is just for fun,” said Höglander. “I haven’t seen Petey yet, but I will have a match with him.”

“We haven’t had a battle yet,” said Pettersson, “or done it face-to-face but from the videos I’ve seen, he’s better. Sucks to say, but...”

8, There is no doubt about who is responsible for the cooking at the Pettersson/Höglander home.

– I take on the cooking, otherwise it won't be as good on the table, says Pettersson.

– He is careful about that so he has to be responsible for it, says Höglander.

What do you stand for then? – Put away the dishes. Luckily we have a dishwasher so it's easy, says Höglander. (Elias has also said that Hoggy used to cook rice like pasta, not measuring water or anything, b4 he stepped in to teach him better but I can't find the video)

9, "My friend found Höglander on Tinder... guess this means he’s in Vancouver already?"

10, It’s Hoagie, not Hoggy

Note the umlaut. It means the first syllable of the rookie’s name rhymes with brogue or doge, not log or dog.

11, And finally, here’s a fact that is bound to make many of you feel very old: Höglander’s birthday is December 20, 2000, making him the first Vancouver Canuck born after the millennium. Remember the Titans came out before he did; Gladiator and Almost Famous, too.

12, n the northern wilderness of his tiny village of Brocktrask, Sweden — population 20 hearty outdoor enthusiasts — you first have to stalk the very large and imposing moose. And that could take a lot of time.

13, The name “Nyssa” has many meaning, including “goal” (Greek) or “friendly elf” (Scandinavian). It is also Nils’ nickname with his SHL teammates. While Hoglander’s size may make him elf-like, he’s more feisty than friendly, taking a five-game suspension earlier this season for throwing a reverse elbow. Since the suspension ,he has been very productive as a 19 year old in the SHL, scoring four goals and three assists in 12 games.

14, So I was just texting with Nils Höglander and he has agreed to not score any goals against Canada at the World Juniors if we can find him some good fishing spots around Vancouver. — Chris Faber

15,

Achievements

Two-time SHL Goal of the Year (2019, 2020)

Won a bronze medal with Team Sweden at the 2020 World Junior Championship

16, Funny story. A couple of my friends who are into fishing decided to randomly invite Hoglander out fishing on the Vedder river during his rookie year through a DM on instagram. He ended up replying and saying he’d love to go. They ended up meeting up and spending a day out on the water and had a successful trip. They go out fishing still to this day"

17, "It all started back in Skellefteå, in northern Sweden, where he moved at age 11. The forward from Burträsk, who turns 18 on Thursday, spent much of his spare time with wheels under his feet.

”We spent almost every night during the summer playing street hockey. We played at the rink when the ice was melted for the summer, and placed hockey nets on the concrete. We had goalies and arranged tournaments. Sometimes we stayed until way past midnight”, Nils Höglander recalls.

The janitor of the small arena often didn’t know that Nils and his friends were there, they weren’t really allowed to hang out in the building as late as they did. When they couldn’t play at the rink they used a tennis court instead.

“It really was the highlight of the summer.”

18, Pettersson's gaming hobby didn't keep him from having a career year and he's certainly not the only Canuck to spend time playing Call of Duty. His fellow Swede, Nils Höglander, evidently also spends a fair amount of time playing Call of Duty. He proved as much in a collaboration with the Seattle Surge, a professional Call of Duty League (CDL) team that is co-owned by Canucks Sports and Entertainment.

Höglander faced off against Amer “Pred” Zulbeari, who is one of the best Call of Duty players in the world. When the Surge won the CDL 2022 Major III Grand Final, Pred was named the tournament’s Most Valuable Player, then was named Rookie of the Year for the 2022 CDL season.  

With that in mind, it’s at least a little bit surprising that Höglander — decidedly not a professional e-gamer — managed to hold his own in a 1v1 match against Pred.

Höglander, playing under the handle “HitTheDeke,” seemed to legitimately catch Pred off-guard with how well he played, as the power forward matched him kill for kill at first. At the 2:40 mark, Pred looks legitimately taken aback, looking towards the camera crew as if making sure he’s not being pranked by being secretly matched up against another pro.

19,

VANCOUVER – Not only has he a dream job, Nils Hoglander has a dream commute to go with it.

Each morning the Vancouver Canucks are home, the Swedish rookie leaves his 22nd-floor apartment that overlooks the city, gets in an elevator and rides down to the bottom of the Rogers Arena. That’s his commute. No car, no transit, no rain.

This is rink-rat heaven.

“Taking an elevator to get to the rink would be like a dream for Nils,” Chris Abbott, the Canadian general manager of Hoglander’s former team, Rogle BK, told Sportsnet. “You’ll have to turn the lights out to get him to leave. You’ll never find a guy who wants to be on the ice more. I’d be out for a run and I’d see him skating on rollerblades with a bunch of kids in the middle of nowhere. He loves being around the rink and loves his teammates, and I think that goes a long way for him to focus on what he needs to do to stay in the NHL.”

20, Hoglander said he is accustomed to living on his own. He misses the camaraderie of teammates away from the rink, but spends his afternoons FaceTiming his family and friends in Sweden. His mom, Maria, is a teacher and his dad, Anders, a professional test driver for auto-makers.

“Cool job,” Hoglander said.

He also spends a lot of time with friends and teammates playing video games online. Call of Duty is his favourite, and Pettersson and Canuck Adam Gaudette are regular gamers, he said.

21,

When did Nils' interest in hockey arise? (asking Nils' parents) – He was probably no more than two and a half years old when he started skating. He could skate straight away, which is almost crazy. So did Tilda. – Before that, both of them had skied quite a bit, both downhill and cross-country. Both of them competed a lot on skis and we often had to throw them in the car straight from the podium to go to a hockey match.

22,

Nils Höglander seems to be a very strong person and his parents believe that this may be due to the tough times he experienced growing up. – Yes, but if we look back at how he was during his youth, he was, as we say, a “squirt”. He was everywhere and nowhere. Much like he sometimes is on the hockey field, laughs Höglander’s parents and continues: – I think everything he has been through, both with Tilda and the Skellefteå time, has been built on this Norrland-like stability. None of us parents can otherwise put our finger on why he has become so strong within himself, because we also feel that he is.

23,

And always with a smile on his face… – It takes a lot for him not to smile. When he smiles, he has fun. You have to be humble about life and the world. All people are different, but you should try to treat everyone well and not get carried away too much.

24,

When Brännström came to the Canucks, one of the faces he recognized was Nils Höglander.

The two Swedes have known each other for over 10 years and their first memory goes back to a hockey camp in Sweden where Brännström’s dad was the coach.

At that camp, Höglander was playing forward but the surprise came when Brännström told us that he was a goaltender at the time. Brännström said he was either 11 or 12 at the time and he was playing goaltender when he was playing up an age group.

25, Who's more likely to be a cool parent? Elias Pettersson: "I like to think I would be a cool parent, but I'll say Nils Hoglander. He's from up north in Sweden. He's just a very funny guy."

26, Who's more likely to be a cool parent? Elias Pettersson: "I like to think I would be a cool parent, but I'll say Nils Hoglander. He's from up north in Sweden. He's just a very funny guy"

Who's more likely to get lost in a road city? Quinn Hughes:"Probably Hoglander"

27, Who on your team is most likely to get lost on the road? (asking Quinn Hughes) Quinn: "I feel like Hog-man. (You're such a good person!) No, I'm gonna explain myself. He is literally from a town in Sweden with like 15 people. Like, grocery story 2 hours away"

28, Höglander was voted the worst golfer last year…

[bibookdemon]

(MDNI WITH THIS POST!!!)

Thinking of cumplane

Please feel free to message me about cumplane AAAA

Need more cumplane mooties

Also if you're afraid to message first, feel free to comment and I'll message you first uwu

A thought for a fic below the cut:

Thinking of a fic where SQH and SY haven't met yet

Wherein SQH is a horny little beast and one of the things he absolutely loves is being degraded. So after he posts a chapter, he turns off his computer, grabs his phone, and disappears to the couch (that folds down into a bed) and waits for a bit, maybe scrolls through his socials or watches some meme videos

And before too long, he hears the telltale ding of a comment, and he knows it's SY because he's turned off notifications for any of the other comments, and besides, SY almost ALWAYS comments first.

And so he opens the comment and he slowly slips his hand in his pants and rubs over himself

And he's so *so wet* even when he's only a couple sentences in because he knows just how much SY 'hates' PIDW (why does he continue reading it???) and despises the author because it's so 'disgustingly written' and that's really fuckin hot

His most-detailed comment writer, his biggest hater (fan) telling him all about his shortcomings. (He honestly rewrote the entirety of PIDW + gave it an actual ending + updates it occasionally when SY comments to add in smth he said - simply to gift to SY. He just hasn't worked up the courage to message him and tell him all about it. Cause he has a big fat crush. He really kinda sorta super wants to ask SY out.)

Anywho, he imagines he's straddling one of SY's thighs - he doesn't know what he looks like but he imagines some nerdy but strangely alluring and somewhat strict-looking guy - and rutting against it as SY types out a comment on his latest chapter

He imagines SY stopping his typing every so often to direct his words and attention to SQH, just telling him how pathetic he is, how his writing is sub-par, how he must be such a nasty-minded person to write such extensive smut scenarios, how SY doesn't even help him get off, just makes him move back and forth until he finally finds his release.

And probably scolds him for making such a mess, but SQH can't help it, he really can't when someone is speaking to him the way SY is speaking to him-

And it's during his post-orgasmic haze that he exits the comment and decides to message SY (I reckon there's a DM feature and while SY has his DMs set to limited, they're open to authors and friends messaging him)

And he gives SY a time and address for a local cheap coffee shop. Not really fancy, but the only place he can afford at the moment. And he just says smth like: 'Meet up with me here, we can work out our differences.' His brain is too muddled to dwell on the fact that he has no idea where SY is from and that his message is honestly so vague and weird that SY is probably horrified.

He falls asleep pretty quickly, and when he wakes up, he sees the message he sent, regrets it, but then rushes to get ready cause HE GAVE A TIME FOR THE NEXT FUCKING DAY?! He rushes to get the alt version novel printed and grabs his best clothes, then he's out.

He probably takes the train, and he's glancing at his phone anxiously every so often, and he's late, but then he's there, shoving the door open to the shop-

He spots SY in the corner, just sipping on a coffee, typing furiously on his laptop, looking like he hasn't slept in a long while his eyebags are so big. Also his glasses are taped in the middle. (I personally think that SY is such a shut-in that he takes forever to go out and get new glasses despite being perfectly financially stable...)

And he sits down in front of him, and he plops his stack of papers on the table. He doesn't say anything, he's honestly really nervous now and kinda guilty about the fact that he's been getting off to this guy's comments but...wow. SY is actually fucking gorgeous. Well, to him. He has a few acne scars, but his face is otherwise clear, and there's the tiniest bit of chub left in his cheeks, yet his cheekbones are still pronounced. His eyebrows are perfect, his hair is short and silky and frames his hair perfectly. And holy shit he really wishes he could get a look at the body beneath the clothes. Because if the rest of him is like his face...he's totally SQH's type.

But he doesn't say anything. And then SQH goes to open his mouth and say smth and SY stops typing and looks up at him and slowly closes his laptop. He looks strict with the look he has on his face currently: Intense, sharp, tired, but focused.

And then he sighs and it all kinda melts away and he actually looks really awkward/anxious as he looks at the table, and SQH can see him fiddling with his hands. And he just mutters: "Look bro, those comments weren't actually meant to be that mean, and I came because I wanted to say sorry, and I'm sure there are reasons for it...idk bro you seem chill? It's your story, and you're human, and it has nothing to do with my thoughts and opinions and-"

And SQH just slaps the stack of papers and slides them over toward SY. "Dude. I know PIDW is crap. I have to pay the bills." And he's not trying to be mean or anything about it, he couldn't care less what SY thinks (but also he's internally screaming BITCH IF YOU DONT KEEP ROASTING MY STORY IM GONNA FUCKING DIE-) he's just pretty straightforward. (I think when he's nervous he goes quiet, and he'll ramble when he's comfy around someone.)

And SY is just like "???" And he flips through some of the papers and his eyes go wide and there's just this SPARKLE in them (SQH thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever seen and he wants to kiss those beautiful eyes) and he's like "Bro, is this what I think it is?!" And SQH nods and SY just wiggles in his seat with this stupidly huge grin and starts reading through it, and every few seconds he points out smth he likes, or smth he didn't see coming, or etc etc. And they literally sit at that table and make conversation about this alt PIDW and SQH is happy and SY is happy. And then SQH realizes it's been a hot minute and he probably should get home and etc etc

But SY looks absolutely upset about this because he NEEDS to rant about this alt version because he's so fucking in love with it and even messaging SQH his every thought isn't enough

So SQH invites him over (totally a great idea. Did he ever clean up the wet stain on his couch from...?) And SY is immediately like NO I CANT IMPOSE + he doesn't want the vibe to change and mess up SQH's writing, so he invites him to the hotel he's staying at and SQH is so relieved and immediately says YES

And they pack their stuff up and go outside and he starts walking in the direction of the train station when he hears a beep beep, and there's this luxurious-ass car that SY is getting into. And he tries (and fails) to hide his surprise because is SY rich?!

Upon arriving at the hotel, yeah, yeah he's rich. They're at the fanciest place in town, and they go almost to the very top. It's a large suite. And then SY apologizes for not getting a larger room, it was just really short notice, and SQH is just 'dobdoavd9svs9acs9svs9vxozv' malfunctioning.

Anyway, after he gets over it, they start talking about alt PIDW. Hours and hours and hours pass like that. It's a long novel, so suddenly it's 2 or 3 in the morning, and they're not even halfway through (SY is a really fast reader holy shit) and SQH realizes it's time for him to go home. So he goes to get up (when did they end up in the bed together, side by side?) And SY grabs his wrist because he doesn't want him to go yet he NEEDS to binge alt PIDW and suddenly SQH is tumbling down, right onto him.

Their noses are just barely brushing, their eyes are locked onto each other, and maybe it's just SQH but are they both red and breathing a bit harder?

And then SY just asks: "Do you like boys?"

And SQH can only nod once, slowly, and then they're kissing, lips smashing together, and SQH is decent at kissing, and SY is...not but oh well, and they're tugging at each other, and they're breathless, and when they break away from the kiss they're both panting and tousled.

SQH: Please tell me that wasn't just me (even when SY very obviously was a happy participant, he's still worried cause holy fuck is he really...?!?!?!?)

SY: Y-yeah. If you wanna? Or is it weird that like- I never imagined you'd be this...hot, Airplane-Bro. (And he's blushing and can't look SQH in the eyes) I kinda always imagined you to be like...idek.

SQH: Well...I'm not whatever you imagined? I guess? ... I don't think it's weird? I mean, you weren't exactly wrong when you typed your comments (he shudders at the thought) about the fact I'm just a...horny little bastard.

SY: Sorry. Heh. About that. But um. I guess it's a good thing you *are*? Right?

SQH: Right. So you're cool with this?

SY: Yeah, yeah. Definitely. Please. Oh! Uh, I just realized, um, names. I'm Shen Yuan.

SQH: I'm Shang Qinghua.

And then they're pausing awkwardly, briefly, before they're kissing again, and then the clothes are pulled off, then they're figuring out what feels great to the other, and they're just setting up a decent rhythm.

They eventually finish alt PIDW together. And SQH, once again brave in his post-orgasmic haze, asks to date SY. And then he also admits he wants SY to keep commenting with as much ferocity as usual. He explains why and SY just goes bright red, but he's so down.

SY does have to return home soon, but he makes arrangements for SQH to move in not long after (a couple months at MOST, which were spent traveling back and forth by SY) - "Look bro, I absolutely need any updates to the alt, any insights, any brainstorming, to be said aloud IMMEDIATELY" - "You just want the great sex and cuddles" (SQH has become very teasing very quickly, and very confident in his sexuality, tho SY is still rather shy about it) - and SY goes bright red as usual XD

If you've read this far, PLEASE MESSAGE ME OH MY GOD. I NEED TO RANT ABOUT CUMPLANE MORE. And also if I do write fics for them I'll send you snippets. :3

And yeah. *thumbs up*

Have I fed you well, gremlins???

One last note: T4T cumplane my beloved

(SQH is on T and has had a breast reduction, SY is on T and has had top surgery but no bottom surgery, which he's still deciding if he wants or not.)

(ALSO - they do get to degrading eventually but SY is very nervous about it at first aha)

[eddieswritinghell]

I have a request!!

Can you do headcanons and/or a short blurb for König, Soap, and Price with a fem!s/o who constantly gets hate and bullied online for no reason? She hasn’t done anything wrong she just likes to post things that she made and is proud of, like photography, art, edits, etc. They see her reading comments and trying not to cry, how would they be in the moment?

It’s totally fine if you don’t want to or if you need time there’s no rush!<3

Added a read more because I got super into this and the post is very long. Hopefully, this is good to read, definitely had fun writing it! 💚

König:

"What is wrong, mein Schatz?" The man seemed greatly concerned upon finding you with tears in your eyes while looking at your phone.

"Just some... mean comments. Nothing bad." Your hand reaches up to wipe at your eyes but König stops you. He settles down next to you and the pad of his thumb gently caresses your cheek.

"Nothing bad? Anything mean towards you is automatically considered bad. What is it about?" His brows furrow in concern as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear to better hold your face in his hand.

"Just some bad reactions to a photo I posted. It wasn't the best photo, but I was proud of it and I think that's why it hurts a bit more."

"Oh nein, nein, nein. Nothing could ever be bad if it came from you. Creativity should not be judged and ridiculed, no matter the person. And it definitely shouldn't be yours either." He holds out his hand and makes a grabby motion. "Give me your phone. I will get rid of all the comments so you won't have to look at them and I will replace them with my own."

"You don't have to do that. I just need to get over it."

"I am still going to do it. Gib mir jetzt das Handy." He makes the hand motion and you hand over the phone. The man seems a bit upset about some of the comments, but he happily deletes them as he pulls you closer to him with his free arm. "This happens again and you come to me, ja?"

Soap:

"What has you all worked up?" He raises an eyebrow as he sits down on the couch next to you. You gladly lean into the arm Soap wraps around your shoulders.

"It's nothing really. Just... need to get over myself." You sniffle and move to tuck your phone away but he's much quicker. Soap snags it out of your grip as you exclaim at him to give it back.

"Nah. Nope. Not giving it back till I know what has you all worked up. Can't stand to see you upset like this, lassie. You being sad makes me sad, and that's a crime against nature."

You fight back a sniffle as you watch him scroll through the post you had open of a picture of a painting you and posted because you were rather proud of it. "You don't need to worry about it."

"Oh, I absolutely need to worry about it because it's my right to worry over my girlfriend." He begins to scroll through the comment section and his smile drops. "Is it the painting you posted? The comments from the asses?"

Your silence is greeted with a grunt and a few pings from your phone of Soap deleting the comments. You sniffle and press your face into his shoulder.

"Boom. All gone. I'd have a go with them if I could. Smash all their faces in. Your painting was absolutely stunning. Right bonnie like the artist who painted it."

Price:

Price wasn't sure what had you crossing you phone on the nightstand with a huff, had you crossing your arms and deeply sighing with a shaky breath of air. He wasn't as attached to the device like you were, didn't quite understand the importance of it other than for communication. "Did your phone die?"

"No. Still at sixty percent, just... upset over something."

Price hums in acknowledgement as he removes his shoes before sitting on the bed next to you. Rolling to face you, a hand rests on your hip and rubs soft circles into the sliver of skin that showed. "Care to share with the class?"

"It's... I made a post about this edit I made. It was the first edit I made in quite some time. It wasn't the greatest edit ever, not viral-worthy either, but I was proud of it."

"An edit?"

"Like... a series of clips of a TV show or movie or video game set to music. It's... I can't explain it well, but that isn't what mattered."

"Well, regardless of what it was, in sure it was great. You're a creative person, and if it made you proud then it made you proud. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks if you enjoyed it and had fun with it, then that's what truly matters. I'm sure people liked it, but comments usually come from people who are jealous of your abilities. Don't let them get to you, love." He smiles and pulls you closer to press a heavy kiss to your neck. "And certainly don't let them have the satisfaction of knowing they got to you. I'll fight off every one of those... haters? Whatever they're called, they don't deserve to know you."

[watarfallar]

DESERT DUO! *I say staring at the sand on the beach, the people around me questioning my mental stability*

Grian: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Scar: Don’t you have any dignity, Grian? Grian: Uh, no.

Scar: Grian is not allowed to violate the dress code, even on 'casual' Fridays. Scar: No matter how many times you say please, Grian. We won't put any of the hats you've been asking about into the dress code.

Scar, playing a video game: This game is so frustrating! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Grian: Ok, I think it’s time to turn off the game for a little while. Scar: But I’m having fun!

Grian: Did you ever have like a pet run away and find it or anything? Scar: I had a lizard that I burnt.

Scar: They couldn't find their way out of a paper bag. Grian: That's not true! I found my way out of a paper bag yesterday!

Grian: Scar, I think we have a problem. Scar: What, the fire? Grian: No, the- wait, what fire? Scar: Oh forget about it, this sounds more interesting.

Scar: Question. When they shot Bambi's mother, did you find that a sad moment…at all? Grian: I'm sure she's mounted on a nice wall in a fine home somewhere.

Scar: English is CRAZY. Oregano is both a spaghetti leaf topping and a form of paper art! Grian: What is this "paper art" you speak of? Scar: That shit where you make cranes and stuff out of folded paper! Grian: … Scar.

Scar: We are not mad. We are just disappointed. Grian: No, we are mad. Scar: Yes. We are. We are livid. But we are going to let this one slide. Grian: No, we’re not! Scar: I am not a mind reader, Grian!

Scar: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup? Grian: The afterlife, I guess.

Grian: How was your day, Scar? Scar: Yeah, fine, it's anti-bullying week at school. Grian: Oh? And what does that mean? Scar: It means I can't bully anyone for a whole week.

Scar: What's this? Grian, hugging Scar: Affection! Scar: Disgusting. Scar: …Do it again.

Scar: You use humor to deflect your trauma. Grian: Awww, thanks- Scar: That’s not a good thing. Grian: All I’m hearing is that you think I’m funny.

Scar: I need a long word. Grian: T-rex but the long one.

Grian: Just wondering, did you get any sleep? Scar: Did I get any… leap? Grian: What…?

Grian: That's a nice arguement, Scar Why don't you back it up with a source? Scar: My source is that I made it the fuck up!

Scar: Grian, I screwed up, big time. Grian: Scar, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

Grian: closes a cabinet a crash is heard behind the cabinet door Scar: What was that? Grian: The sound of someone else's problem.

Grian: I can't take you seriously wearing that. Scar: Aw, you take me seriously at all? Grian: Fair point.

Scar: And what do I get out of this? Grian: I will give you a dollar. Scar: What do you think I am? A chump? I would never do it for a dollar! Grian: How bout two dollars? Scar: You got yourself a deal.

Grian, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Scar: Other side, Grian…

Grian: As a responsible adult- Scar: chuckles Grian: … As a responsible adult—

Scar: I'm going to take a shower, I'll be right back. Grian: Why are you telling me this, I don't care. Grian, right after Scar leaves the room: I miss them already.

[rookflower]

it's annoying because you can never have a nuanced discussion about those two (brambleclaw and squirrelflight) yes, brambleclaw does, within the text, have noble qualities and is capable of caring for squirrelflight, which is part of why she stays with him. but it is important to take into account the power imbalance within them that existed since the beginning of their relationship, and how squirrelflight's wrongdoings in the relationship are never as personal or reprehensible as bramble's. a lot of people see marriage/romantic love as some all-powerful, moral entity, but i think it's what makes them most interesting as a couple to show that even while he's capable of loving her, it doesn't lessen the fact that he has the capability to hurt her and how that has affected her. i feel like you can be fascinated with them as a couple without necessarily endorsing that dynamic irl idk.

OH yeah, absolutely. Brambleclaw is a really frustrating character to me because I see the intrigue there- intentionally or not, he's very flawed in a way which is fairly consistent and that I would genuinely enjoy as a part of the story, if it has a sense of intentionality or if the books had him face literally any consequences for his actions, but at the end of the day he is ALWAYS framed as a good or understandable person, is never humbled or forced to change, and his actions are never reflected on much past when they happen. I don't think he is intentionally abusive to squirrelflight, I think he is ambitious and self centered and very insecure, and his dynamic with her as older and more responsible -> deputy and warrior -> leader and deputy, combined with squirrelflight 's defiance and tendency to do what she feels is right over his authority makes him treat her like absolute shit. Yes I think he has a *reason* to be furious about her lying about the kits, but I don't think that he has the moral high ground about it especially when you mirror it with the hawkfrost shit in tnp which also involved lying to your partner about a wrongdoing in favour of your sibling. He never tells her about all that, does he.

The reason why I find "they're both as bad as each other" or "squirrelflight is worse" or "squirrelflight is morally grey" or whatever so fucking annoying is because that's what the books ALREADY DO to avoid framing bramblestar as in the wrong for literally anything and I think it is sexist as fuck and lazy cowardly writing. and I also think it is blatantly not true because any time she undermines his authority or lies to him I think she is sympathetic and/or genuinely right in doing so, which I can't say the same about most of his failings LOL.

TLDR I could like brambleclaw if he faced consequences for his actions towards squirrelflight or the text acknowledged his abuse for what it is, but he doesn't and it won't. I think bramblesquirrel is kind of fascinating in its unhealthiness and instability and it's a crucial part of both characters. It's just uh (gestures around to warrior cats misogyny moments that change it from being a tumultuous long term abusive and dysfunctional relationship into a wholesome nostalgic classic couple where they "just bicker a lot" but are perfect for each other)