#not for good or bad - just the gooeyness

[warcats-cat]

Ooh okay for that ship or not ask game! Let's do a twofer, Remus/Virgil aaaand Roman/Patton?

Mmmmmmmok gonna start with the popular:

Royality: Ship It!

I mostly ship Royality because I ship LAMP. Roman and Patton work well together as the more emotionally driven and outgoing of the core four. It's not a ship I actively seek out but it's a ship I enjoy content for when it crosses my dash.

I think they would be the obnoxious couple that has a couples Instagram and tiktok and talk all the time about the dumb things they do together and gush endlessly about XYZ cute/thoughtful thing the other did for them. They're very close and their relationship is very strong.

Unpopular Opinion: not sure if it's "unpopular" but these two are an emotional time bomb waiting to happen. Roman's intense self esteem issues and Patton's self-sacrificing tendencies plus pushing down his own feelings in favor of others would go into overdrive in this relationship. I can see it turning unhealthy into codependency if they're not careful. And if a fight we're to happen, it *happens* and is loud wailing and yelling and crying and lots of self loathing and regret afterwords for both parties.

Inrtuxiety: Don't Ship It

What is their actual ship name? Why am I just now realizing I don't know this?

Starting with Unpopular Opinion - I just don't like canon Remus. He squicks me out pretty bad, even setting aside his "character" and what he supposedly represents being kinda all over the place. This isn't one of the four that I actively block, but I tend to skip over it if I see it in a fic.

To be brutally honest I don't think there's anything currently in canon that would make me ship them together, and I doubt I would find much of any in fanon/fics. I can see them as friends and/or estranged family, but not in a romantic sense. (Also idk if it's just association with the color green but I tend to see/headcanon Remus as Aro anyway...)

I think it's cute when it's a familial relationship! It's fun to wonder about how they were in the past, both based on canon references to their shared history and in fanon interpretations. I tend to generally like Remus in fanon interpretations a lot better anyway, so that also helps.

[velourfant]

phoenix wright is really fucking hot.

and i mean, objectively, sure, he’s pretty attractive, but i’m more so talking about everything he does in the og trilogy. spoiler warnings for aa1, aa2, and aa3!

he’s supposedly a self insert character but that assumption loses all credibility as soon as edgeworth comes into the picture and the player is forced to contend w the fact that yes, phoenix wright actually DOES know him—you’re the one who’s left out. i don’t even mean this in a shippy way (i do ship them but i didn’t start raising my eyebrows until phoenix’s “let me defend you” line at the detention center and i didn’t actually acknowledge i shipped it until phoenix’s “nobody knows the real edgeworth” monologue in his office). i just think that, regardless whether takumi meant to, he established phoenix’s cageyness so early into the game and it works SO FUCKING WELL!

you might think i’m overthinking it but in jfa, phoenix does this again by not letting the player or maya know what became of edgeworth. i’m also going to cite him never telling anyone about dahlia—which IK happened bc JFA and T&T weren’t originally meant to be games—as evidence he’s a cagey piece of shit. even tho aa1 was supposed to be a standalone game, phoenix’s character is so consistent throughout the first trilogy that you would never know otherwise.

i also think the music direction was 10/10 whenever phoenix and someone of importance to him was involved. it’s part of the reason i was so moved by narumitsu, and also why i was INCREDIBLY moved by his reuniting w iris in 3-5.

side note but did i ever mention i actually really fucking like feenris? i am not immune to subtext. i am not immune to good storytelling.

t&t was also perfect for furthering my phoenix wright brainrot because he treats his ex so fucking well. soooo fucking well. when he and dahlia were dating, he treated her like a queen. and even when he became incredibly cagey, he still has that charisma and genuine care for folks he trusts and he’s also so so good w kids and he j makes me wanna explode into a pile of hearts and gooeyness. i love him.

when i finish SOJ DLC, i plan to replay the trilogy just to let everything sink in + feed the part of my brain that actually does ship narumitsu now…and i will definitely be spamming abt it!

i’m writing a think piece abt his character on my main blog but i just think he’s so attractive in a way i didn’t expect him to be. when he broke down the kurain manor channeling door in 2-2, i was ..listening. then he gets pearls to open up to him and i’m thinking oh wow. 2-4 comes and i’m like OH WOW. the final straw was 3-5 when he crosses the bridge for maya. sir, you are so fucking fine. i need you BAD.

[forthegothicheroine]

One of my favorite negative reviews

I can’t find a full text of it online, so I’m going to copy out some big chunks of Stephen Hunter’s retrospective on Gone with the Wind, which apparently resulted in lots of angry letters to the editor.

Long, stupid, ugly and, alas, back for the sixth time (in theaters, innumerable television showings have preceded this rerelease), it is probably the most beloved bad movie of all time, as its adjusted box office gross of $5 billion makes clear. If you love it, that is fine; but don’t confuse its gooeyness, its spiritual ugliness, its solemn self-importance, with either art or craft, for it boasts none of the former and only a bit of the latter. It is one of the least remarkable films of that most remarkable of American movie years, 1939. In fact, far from being one of the greatest American films ever made, I make it merely the twenty-eighth best film of 1939! It may not even have been the best movie that opened on December 15, 1939! It is overrated, overlong, and overdue for oblivion.

Of the various characters and actors:

It’s profoundly misogynistic...the secret pleasure of the film is watching Scarlett O’Hara being punished for the sin of selfhood. The movie delights in her crucifixion, even to the point of conjuring the death of a child as apt punishment for her ambitions. Her sin, really, is the male sin: the pride which goeth before the fall...

Leslie Howard was a great actor and a brave man, who raced home to join his unit when World War II broke out, thereby missing the famous December Atlanta premiere. He was killed in 1943 when the Nazis shot down a plane he was in. Let us lament him as we lament all the men who gave their lives to stop that evil. That said, the truth remains that on screen, he was a feathery creature, best cast as the foil to Bogart’s brutish Duke Mantee in The Petrified Forest, where his cathedral-abutment cheekbones gave him the look of an alabaster saint in the wall of an Italian church. But he was about as believable as a sexual object as he would have been as Duke Mantee...

The wondrous Olivia de Havilland was an actress of spunk and pizazz, and she gave as good as she got, even across from such hammy scene stealers as her longtime costar Flynn. But she, too, is trashed by Gone with the Wind as sugary Melanie Wilkes, a character of such selfless sweetness she could give Santa Claus a toothache.

Of the film as art:

Too much spectacle, not enough action. David O. Selznick, who produced the film and rode it to immortality, didn’t understand the difference between the two. Thus the film has a fabulous but inert look to it; the story is rarely expressed in action but only in diorama-like scenes. It is curiously flat and unexciting. Even the burning of Atlanta lacks dynamism and danger; it’s just a dapple of flickering orange filling the screen without the power and hunger of a real fire. And the movie’s most famous shot- the camera pulling back to reveal Scarlett in a rail yard of thousands of bleeding, tattered Confederate soldiers- makes exactly the wrong point. It seems to be suggesting that Scarlett has begun to understand that the war is much bigger than she is. And yet she never changes. The shot means nothing in terms of character; it’s an editorial aside that really misleads us.

Of the film’s message:

From its opening credits, which characterize the South as a lost land of lords and ladies, to its final images of Tara nestling among the Georgia dogwood, the movie buys into a myth that completely robs the region of its truth. Love it or hate it, it’s a land (as Faulkner knew) in which the nobility of its heroism lived side by side with the ugliness of its Original Sin: slavery. I’m not attacking the South here, just Margaret Michell and Selznick’s version of it. Other movies or 1939 were beginning to find the courage to express some subtle ideas. One of them was John Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln.

Of its comparison to other 1939 movies:

I found 797 titles from the year 1939, had seen fewer than a tenth of them, and even on that small list there were 27 that struck me as fundamentally better than Gone with the Wind, movies that I would watch again with utter delight. They are: Allegheny Uprising, Another Thin Man, Babes in Arms, Beau Geste, Confessions of a Nazi Spy, Dark Victory, Dodge City, Drums Along the Mohawk, Golden Boy, Gunga Din, Juarez, The Light that Failed, Made for Each Other, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Ninotchka, Of Mice and Men, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, The Real Glory, The Roaring Twenties, Stagecoach, The Story of Alexander Graham Bell, The Three Musketeers, Union Pacific, The Wizard of Oz, The Women, Wuthering Heights, and Young Mr. Lincoln.

Dammit, my dear, I’m just being frank.

[myloveisinthefood]

vegan nachos!

When I’m having a bad chronic pain day but I don’t have any pre-prepped meals in the fridge, vegan nachos are my go-to for something that is filling, nutritious, and doesn’t require much effort. It’s all about that layering! Everything comes from a jar or packet, no chopping required.

My nacho layers are:

“Mexican” rice from a pouch: yes, one of those 90 second rice pouches! I just get whatever’s cheapest. Some of the alleged Mexican flavours have beans in them too — extra protein! Heating the rice up will separate the grains, which will make it easier to spread a thin layer on the bottom of your baking dish.

Tortilla chips: I prefer yellow corn plain/salted/original tortilla strips. Strips layer a bit better than rounds or triangles, I find! Just a single layer will do ✌️

Salsa: a chunky tomato salsa of your preferred heat level is the best! For this one, I dolloped a chunky salsa around and then drizzled a mesquite sauce over it as well.

Vegan cheese: smoked vegan cheese is the best for this! I just go for whatever’s cheapest usually. If you’re particularly struggling, pre-shredded vegan cheese is obviously an option!

Vegan sour cream dip: I’ll usually get whatever sour cream-ish dip I can find that has corn or something added, and just dollop it randomly.

Jalapeños: pickled jalapeños from a jar, as many as I feel like!

And then layer it all again! I’ll put it in the oven at around 190C for 20mins-ish, or until the top is browned. Vegan cheese doesn’t typically melt the same as dairy cheese, so I just look out for crispiness. The sour cream dip is what gives the gooeyness 👏

After it comes out of the oven, I’ll garnish with coriander and chives (or spring onions if I’ve got them and feel up to chopping!) and just dig in with a fork once it has cooled a bit 😂 I usually get two meals out of one dish, and it’s still good when cold!

I try to stay stocked on these ingredients so I’m always ready to go if need be! And because things are in jars and packets, they’ll make a few batches. If I have it, I also dollop some guac over the top when it comes out of the oven.

And obviously, if you’re not vegan, dairy cheese and dip will work just the same! I’d still recommend a smoked cheese though, for extra flavour.

I made these ones when I had my last flare up, served them with a no-alc mojito, and felt a lot emotionally better even though my body was betraying me 🖤

[valsverse]

━━ "BE MY ONCE IN A LIFETIME."

✦ synopsis: love is portrayed in vastly different ways, yet its charm endures, weaving its unpredictable spell through hearts and minds alike. in other words, how do they love? ✦ featuring: percy jackson, annabeth chase, leo valdez, clarisse la rue, jason grace, & luke castellan.

percy jackson, who continues to love through the pain. it's a sight to see, how effortlessly he places his trust in you, despite the scars of betrayals, heartaches, and afflictions that he carries on his own. he opens his heart to you with ease, cracks and bruises and all, yet remains unguarded; trusting you to cradle and protect it with delicate hands, those same hands that tenderly run through his hair as night descends, and gently stroke his face to rouse him at dawn.

in the depth of your embrace, percy finds sanctuary—a haven from the monsters he's battled and the smiles of loved ones he can no longer see. despite a lifetime of experiences urging caution in trust, he feels his heart soar in your presence unfailingly. percy jackson, who almost struggles to maintain composure around you, masking his vulnerability behind an utterly content smile that seems ready to ascend to the heights of clouds at any moment.

annabeth chase, who typically prioritizes facts over feelings, finds herself in a paradoxical state when it comes to you—where the boundaries between the two quickly blur. she wrestles with the sensation of her heart quickening its pace in your presence, a feeling she dislikes yet is inexplicably drawn to when it comes to you. the way her typically meticulously crafted sentences seem to dissolve into uncertainty when she's with you, a feeling she dislikes, contrasted with the admiration she holds for your patient gaze, which waits for her to regain composure.

to annabeth chase, love represents an expanse of uncertainty where the wisdom and knowledge she so often relies on, often falls flat. an area of vulnerability where her feelings, something she feels less adept at navigating, reign supreme. but for you? for you, she's willing to try.

leo valdez, who is, in short, piteously romantic.

he sees you as nothing short of an angel, a divine reward for every good deed he's managed in his life, though he humbly doubts it's enough to deserve you.

leo spares no effort in treating you like royalty, albeit within the constraints of a teenager's budget and his remarkably adept pyrotechnic skills. he carefully saves those free pizza coupons for the new italian joint down the street, and spends his spare time in the forge carefully adorning your mirror with lights to accentuate your beauty to its fullest potential. with skilled finesse born of his pyrokinesis, he expertly toasts marshmallows over the campfire, achieving the perfect balance of crispiness and gooeyness just for you. (yes, this is romantic to him.) in other words, leo valdez is down bad. and he knows it.

clarisse la rue who, much to her dismay, can't seem to shake the thoughts of you from her mind. ever since the daughter of ares gained some semblance of reason and logic, she's seen herself as driven by ambition alone. but next to you—someone who never confines their love within mere actions—she suddenly feels small.

it's a bitter truth to swallow, the depth of her love for you matched by her struggle to reveal it. nevertheless, she draws a deep breath, gathering courage from the core of her being. she's prepared to confront any obstacle if it means your hearts could beat as one. even as she wrestles with conflicting emotions, clarisse la rue reluctantly acknowledges that your presence alone possesses the power to stir her soul.

jason grace, who loves like out of a novel. gentle, deliberate, and profoundly understanding. his love speaks through shared looks, softly held hands, and tender touches—words often unnecessary. to him, you are the reassuring anchor in life's tempest, the safe harbor in life's turbulent waters. you embody both the virtues and quirks that stir his heart to love without restraint. why wouldn't he adore an angel in motion? jason grace, who embodies the chivalrous knight in shining armor, the quintessential boy next door, every cliché imaginable, yet remains blissfully unaware his own charm.

luke castellan, who engages in a delicate dance with vulnerability.

he craves it desperately yet fears the consequences of embracing it fully. his love often morphs into frustrating turmoil. in his mind, he imagines a parallel universe where he can hold you close without considering the shared burdens it might bring.

is it love or a form of harm to so easily accept someone's flaws? to pursue romance means to also confront deep pain and lifelong challenges.

but would any of that matter if it meant just one more second with you?

some might view it as romantic, how he weaves you into his daily existence, yet he apprehends it. love cruelly compels him to notice resemblances between what he cherishes and what he detests.

luke castellan, who wrestles with the fear that one day, he'll wake up harboring resentment towards you, not because of any fault of yours, but because his own inner turmoil could poison what he holds dear.

©heartss4val — do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[sukei-dot-exe]

I once described these frustrations to a coworker of mine. He said, “Wow, you don’t really like eating, do you?”

And I just stayed silent because I didn’t know how to explain how much I hated putting in effort, cooking, disparaging over the healthiness of the meal, checking ingredients for my allergy, weighing it against my texture issues, feeling dizzy enough to risk my consciousness, scarfing down a dry and boring granola bar in the back room, and just everything else that made it bad.

Yet I also loved going out with friends or family for meals, using it as a distraction during conversation, enjoying the sleepiness of a full stomach, the simple yet satisfying taste of something like toast and butter, the strangely satisfying gooeyness of raw fish, marvelling over trying something new and actually liking it, eating cold pizza for breakfast, and just everything else that made it good.

It’s just,,,, hard.

do you guys ever get annoyed that like. we have bodily needs.

like, sure, I don't mind eating a lil snack or drinking something tasty, BUT it annoys me that I have to do that in order to live.

like, I can't have little treats all the time, no, I have to eat regular meals, because otherwise the body will get upset. and most of the times, the body will also get upset if you eat something in particular, because it's dramatic like that

I like sweet fizzy drinks, but I gotta drink way more than I would like to in order to stay hydrated. and best way to do so is to drink water & that does NOT spark joy, the flavor usually is off, boring and annoying. not to mention if you drink enough, you gotta go to the bathroom so often, such an annoyance

like. do you guys get me.

[yuichi-ro]

holding tora’s legs open for puppy baji to eat his fat pussy 🥺

why stop with holding them open? Encourage Tora to get on Baji's pretty face 🥺💖 cw: fem!Reader, pussy boy!Kazutora, idk maybe pussy boy!Baji too, threesome, face sitting, oral, fingering got a thirst?

Baji's so good with his mouth. It's why it's one of the prettiest features on him. You and Tora both know this.

The hunger Baji will eat either of you out. Tongue ravishing your core with almost endless stamina. Or abusing Tora's swollen little clit with the same kind of resilience. Baji eats you both out like a man starved for every meal of his life. And while you take full advantage of this. Tora sometimes gets a little embarrassed to have his best friend between his legs.

And that's why you're there ♡

Cooing and sweet talking Tora up onto Baji's face. Tora fidgeting and nervous. All while Baji's licking his lips and grabbing his best friends thighs. Lowering Tora onto his face before either you or Tora say anything. Delving into his folds and lapping at the juices clinging to his beautiful puffy cunt. Swiping his tongue along his entrance until Tora is a writhing moaning mess with fistfuls of Baji's hair in his hands. Baji only taking that as an invite to utterly violate his insides with his tongue. Feeling Tora clench and grind down on him for more of his tongue inside him.

All the while Baji is too engrossed in eating Tora out to even properly close his legs.

Slick with wetness. Teasing him that eating his best friend out has turned him on this bad? Baji unable to defend himself or make a comeback with the way Tora is suffocating him in his cunt. Leaving you to have more than just a little fun.

Baji's beautiful pussy. Maybe a little overgrown but oh so sensitive. Pulling his glistening cunt lips away a little to reveal his wonderfully hard clit. Knowing that his clit is just a little bigger than average but makes it so wonderful. Soaked in his juices, peaking out of its hood begging to be sucked. And that's exactly what he gets.

While Baji is devouring Tora and swirling his tongue inside him. You're delicately taking Baji's clit between your lips and nursing it until it's hard as a rock. Sensitive even to your breath when you blow on it a little. Baji's hips utterly having a mind of their own when you keep teasing him with a light touch on his clit. All soaked and ready to cum. But instead slipping your fingers down to his entrance and watching Baji nearly shove his face in Tora's cunt to hide his moan. Of course Tora all but overstimmed on Baji's face at this point.

The second you slip your fingers inside his velvety walls. Feeling his gooeyness milk your fingers like they're going to get something from it. Baji moaning beautifully under Tora. And of course Tora moaning just as much on Baji's face. Pumping your fingers slowly in and out of him to watch Baji grow more and more desperate. It's an awfully good thing you have to hands. One to finger Baji and the other to rub your own clit all while you watch two best friends have the time of their lives.

With your help of course.

[cevans-seb]

Started with Coffee

Pairing: Actor Chris Evans x Author OC

Warning: none

Word Count: 2.8k

A/n: My first story on this account that involved gooeyness from Chris’ character and OC. Also to reiterate, all of my characters are P.O.C’s and plus size! 

Nikita stretches out her knots and kinks after staying in her cubicle longer than required.

“Nikita, I have to lock up soon.” Danny, the custodian, informed. 

“Gotcha Danny, I just need to finish these last few sentences.” 

“I’m serious. I went on my rounds four times since I last stopped by and I need to get home.” he ran his fingers through his graying hair. “My wife is already calling my phone as is.” he rambled while toting his mop bucket with him. 

This deadline is hanging over her head like a Jigsaw trap. Her boss, Stefan, bombarded her with an assignment involving her new story; the same story that has yet to be written by her. He requests that she submit a rough draft and have it on his desk Monday morning which is what leads her to an overnight cafe on a Saturday night. A caffeinated induced stroke of genius has her typing away on her laptop. Envisioning her character frolicking and roaming around green pastures, her protagonist being a wild-eyed, afro wearing scholar being unapologetically her. A happy soul that thrives off of peace and rainfall. Nikita was almost done with her final paragraph until her chair was bumped into, causing her coffee to spill onto her laptop. 

“No,no, no,” she kept repeating as her laptop died, completely erasing everything she typed. 

“I’m so sorry.” a man with a thick Boston accent apologized. 

Nikita whips her head to find the culprit and a sexy culprit he was. Standing a smooth 6’1, tattoo peeking out of his low v-neck shirt, and a beard she knew would tickle her face if she kissed him. He also looked like Chris Evans. 

“Wait, you’re Nikita Galstone? I’m a big fan of your work.” he beamed. “Chris Evans,” he held out his hand. 

Something similar to a screeching tire went off in her head when she realized this was actually Chris Evans. Chris Evans knew who she was and liked her work. He was also the one who ruined her latest story that probably was going to be a pain to rewrite. 

“Yeah, that's me. Nice meeting you, Mr. Evans.” 

“No need for formalities!” his chipper voice seemed to make this whole encounter less awkward. “Want me to replace your laptop? I have a habit of breaking my own stuff and I guess I’m just prone to destroying technology.” Chris confessed. 

Nikita laughs while shaking her head. 

“Nah there’s no need. Perks of being a writer: I have like two laptops and a PC at home, so I think I’ll be okay.” she sips the little remains of her coffee. “Well, how about I get you a new cup of coffee.” he bargained. “I feel bad that I ruined your laptop.” 

Chris scratched the back of his neck, nervous of her reply. 

“This was a Venti, Matcha latte.” gesturing towards her cup. “You can throw in a few cookies for the trouble.” she smirked. 

Chris agreed and they went up to the cashier. The barista, who was once starstruck, huffed as we approached her. She smacked her gum as Chris gave his order, barely paying him any attention when she lazily jotted them down. “I’ll be right back with her order.” her sickly sweet tone annoyed Nikita, but she ignored it when Chris peered down. He gave a genuine smile that made Nikita's heart race. 

“So, what were you writing?” he asked after paying and receiving his items. 

“A little short story. My boss has been grilling me for days now about it.” 

“What’s the story about?” 

“I don’t want to give too much away, but it’s about a black girl that lives as freely as she wants. A none wavering being that’s nomadic in her travels and thrives off of rushing winds dancing off her skin. She finds happiness in being alone. Self-solitude.” she answered with a fiery passion shown in her eyes, something Chris seemingly enjoyed seeing.

“Sounds good to me, do you have a release date yet?” he asked with piqued interest. 

“Nope, which is why he’s on my ass so much. I have been in a brain fog for a while now and my writing took a hit because of it.” she confessed. 

“I don’t want to overstep, but what has been bothering you?” 

“Life, mother asking when I’m coming home, dad wondering when I’m done with this fantasy and actually finding a ‘real’ job, and my friends just ringing me up for a link up.I never knew how hard it was to socialize. For so long, I thrived off of being by myself. I managed better that way, but I’ve come to realize it’s deeper than anything I’ve ever known. It’s nice to find balance, and I’m still struggling trying to find it.” 

Chris brows furrowed. He understood the frustration. 

“I get it. This is shit is never easy.”

“Yeah, sorry if I went too deep.” She apologized. 

“I asked, Nikita. I wanted to know what was going on in that pretty head of yours.” 

Nikita’s eyes bucked like a chameleon. Did he call her pretty? Was she reading too much into this? Why was she hearing wedding bells? 

“True, do you want a cookie?” She offered a macadamia nut cookie to him. Without thinking, he leaned down and bit into it, causing her to gasp. Chris sputtered an apology which made her giggle when he turned red. “ I guess I’m just overstepping boundaries today.” 

“ I don’t know. It’s kind of cute seeing you turn into a tomato. Give me very much Veggie Tales.”

“Hm, does that make you the cucumber because you were very green up there.”  he smirked. 

“Please I wasn’t jealous. Annoyed? Yes. Jealous? No.” she defended, crossing her sweater covered arms. 

“Eh, sounds like something a jealous person would say.”

“Jealous of what?” 

“You didn’t see the barista flirting?” he mocked, dramatically gasping. 

With an eye roll, you walked out of the cafe. Chris was quick in trailing you, guffawing behind you. 

“Let me call up the academy because you deserve an award for that performance.” she softly chuckled. 

“Do you want this night to end?” he rushed out.

Nikita stopped in her tracks at the question. On one hand, she needed to complete her story, but she was enjoying her time with him. 

“What’s one more hour?” she finalized. 

That hour became three with Nikita and Chris laughing and conversing about random topics one of them thought of. She tried a Boston hotdog while Chris tried lemon salt and hot fries-both of which decided that those foods weren’t for them. They were now lounging on a park bench sharing cotton candy. 

“No way you think Friend’s is a good show. Living Single is way better. No competition.” Nikita argued. 

“I didn’t say Friend’s was better, I said I couldn’t fairly judge because I never watched Living Single.” he pleaded his case.

“That's worst, Christopher!” she laughed. 

“Well, how about we watch it this weekend? I don’t have to fly out until next week.”  

Chris has been ballsy all night, and Nikita was utterly speechless. Chris Evans intruding in her 1 bedroom condo did not seem like the fantasy she imagined she would be in. Now, if she lived in a penthouse with butlers and maids galore. Maybe she would consider that more appropriate, but she doesn’t have that nor does she want that. Reality felt like it was settling in because she felt out of her element being around Chris. Her rose-colored glasses were shattered and seeping was this fluke of an encounter. A fluke. Something that came off a whim.

“So, what do you say?” 

Monday morning

“Good morning, everyone,” Nikita greeted, nursing a headache from doing another all-nighter. She finally completed her short story to her boss and spent the remainder of her weekend icing her sorrows. Chris' shattered face still plays vividly in her head after she rejected him. Her sour mood worsened when her landlord shut off all of the tenants power, so he could repair a faulty wiring he caused.  At least Chris didn’t have to see her living condition now, and he probably never will because she won’t see him again outside of her Disney + and AppleTv. Glancing at her planner, she noticed a newly added meeting planned for her today. 

“Danica, did you add this meeting?” Nikita inquired, her confusion stayed when Danica denied adding it. 

“It probably was Kiera. I saw her over here when I first came in.” she shrugged while sipping her green juice that smelled like rotten cabbage. 

Kiera. Stefan’s assistant was on Nikita’s desk and added an impromptu meeting that no one decided to inform her about.  Something was fishy and it wasn’t Danica’s breath. Nikita sighed before scrolling through the clusterfuck of emails she forgot to respond to last week, but one stood out to her. It was an email from a talent agency. Nikita didn’t know much about the entertainment industry and honestly never dwelled too much into the subject of it. She was blase towards it, but this email intrigued her. It came from a woman named Meghan. Meghan who seems to be the manager of Chris Evans and she seems pissed off in this email. 

Good Morning Ms.Galstone:

My name is Meghan Clarke and it has come to my attention that you and my client, Chris Robert Evans, had an interaction last weekend. An interaction that caught the attention of paparazzi. My phone has been blowing up non-stop with notifications from almost every news outlet and social media about your escapades. It would be with great interest from both parties that you promptly respond back to me, so we all can find a common resolution to this problem. 

Best Wishes,

Meghan C.

What the fuck? Was this even real? Panic soon seeped in as she frantically searched her name on Twitter and much to her dismay, Meghan was right. There she was. Plastered all over twitter with pictures of them eating cotton candy. She foolishly went through the comment and almost puked at some of them. They were either making edits of them or spewing obscenities that even she wouldn’t repeat to her worse enemy. The age gap seems to be the main topic. Some were questioning whether or not she was a sugar baby or if Chris groomed her. It wasn’t that bad of an age gap, but the grooming tweets made her very uncomfortable. So she would hate to see how Chris would react to them. She was literally 25 years old. When someone posted her socials under one of the tweets was when she shutted off her phone. 

“Fuck my life.” she mumbles with her head mushed to her desk. 

Nikita paled at the realization that she was now outside of her little bubble. People were perceiving her in a way she never thought was possible. Yeah, she has five New York best sellers, but it’s the work people love, not the person.  This whole thing has shifted her reality to something she doubts she can revert back to. There’s now a face people can see and right now that face is paired with Captain America. Her phone interrupts her mini break down. 

“Hey mama,” she answered in a hushed tone.

“Why did Aunt Felicia tell me you are dating a white boy?!” Nikita’s mom screeched into the phone. “I told you when you went up there to leave them boys alone but no you decided to not only ignore that, you go and date a white one.”  she could feel her mother’s icy glare through the phone, something she does when she’s five seconds away from beating Nikita with a clothes hanger. 

“I’m not dating him.” Jesus, she felt like she was in high school again. “We were just hanging out and paparazzi took pictures. It was all friendly.”

It was so surreal to her. Her dating Chris Evans is apparently headline worthy? 

“Mhm, well bring your lil friend down here with you the next time you visit. We want to meet him.” she hung before Nikita could tell her mom  that Chris and her weren’t even friends. 

“Ms.Galstone, my office right now.” Stefan was peeved. His jaw was clenched and he held that constipated look he always got when deadlines were being pushed. Nikita wished someone could save her from his stern staring, but alas she isn’t in a fantasy and her hero isn’t draped in shining armor. He was actually wearing a navy armani suit with a more clean cut facial hair. 

“Take a seat, Ms.Galstone.” he offered me a seat. “Mr.Evans and Mrs. Clarke have brought some pictures to my attention. Did you and Mr.Evans mingle with each other last weekend? Did you two get coffee, food, and cotton candy last Saturday? Please tell me these are all photoshopped by some shipper.” he clicked his tongue when Chris and Nikita stayed silent. 

It feels like being caught holding a lighter at the scene of a fire. A mantra of excuses flooded her brain but nothing came into fruition. Nothing but a quiet shell sitting next to another even more handsome quiet shell. 

“They aren’t fake. Chris already confirmed it with me. How he could be so careless is beyond me?”  

“It was all harmless. We were only hanging out, nothing more.” Nikita defended.

“Harmless or not, they found our publication and you know how I feel about bad press, Ms.Galstone.” he leg didn’t stop shaking with each word he spat out. “This could be bad for business,”

“Nikita didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did. We had a great Saturday doing what we wanted. I don’t regret any of it because it was harmless until paps decided to intrude on our lovely evening.” Chris rose from his chair, irritation clearly visible. “People can think what they want, but it isn’t fair to punish us for only living.” 

Meghan and Stefan both rested against his desk. They were in deep thought about this situation. A gentle hand brought Nikita out of her head when she turned to him, he already had a reassuring smile gracing his face. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’ve had better Mondays.” she teased. “Not everyday I get paired with a celebrity, much less an A-lsiter.” 

“Hey at least it’s with me and not someone like Pete Davison.”

“I mean I heard Pete was slanging some d-” 

“We decided what we are going to do about this!” Meghan bellowed. “I’ll have them write this off as old friends catching up.” 

“Old friends? We are 16 years apart where in life outside of now would this make sense?” Chris questioned. “We’re not doing that. You’re not gonna make me look like a perv.” 

“I agree. Why can’t we be honest and say we met at the coffee bar. It’s nothing to it.” Nikita  added.  

“Because that still leaves this window for dating rumors.” 

“I don’t care about dating rumors.” Chris shrugged. “I’ve had a plethora  of them and they aren’t slowing down. What’s one more?” 

“This one would be different.” Stefan interjected. 

This lost us. Collectively, Chris and Nikita raised their eyebrows quizzically. Nikita was scared to ask because she had an idea on what made this situation different. It was a hunch but Chris Evans didn’t get a lot of rumors dating a black woman. He even less gets rumors about dating a plus size woman. Nikita was 2 for 2. 

“And how the fuck is this different?” It was the first time she actually heard Chris curse since meeting him. 

“C’mon Mr.Evans, you seem like a man who has a particular type. A very blonde hair, blue eyed type if you get me.” Stefan nudged his shoulder. 

“None of my exes were blonde nor did they have blue eyes. My type is someone who knows what they want in life and grabs it. A dreamer who dreams of a nomadic lifestyle and loves silence, rain, someone who’s into self-solitude.” This made Nikita avert her eyes from the burly man as he rehashed her short story to describe his type. She was his type. Nikita Galstone was Chris Evans’ type. 

“ This is getting us nowhere!” Meghan exasperated. “Can you two just promise us to keep whatever this is lowkey? We don’t want any more paparazzi sleethering their way into this and blowing this out of proportion.” 

We both agreed. Stefan and Meghan left them alone in his office. Chris let out an exhausted breath while Nikita still had stars blinding her vision. She was his type and essentially told his manager and her boss that he liked her. Why did she reject him again? This man was amazing, almost like he was written by a minority woman.- a black, minority woman. 

“So,” she drawled. “You get a lot of dating rumors.” 

“Yep,” 

“Hypothetically, how many would you say you get a day?”

“More than I can see, Nikita. Although, none of them will ever be true.” 

“Is there some you want to be true?” 

He gave a soft smile and hunch. 

“Maybe one, it was one with this beautiful author that caught my attention at a cafe. I accidentally spilled coffee on her laptop though”

[feralandmoonstruck]

Falling In Love Will Kill You Pt. 2

WC: 1185

Tag list: @adie-dee @pheita @kainablue @jezifster @aschlindartroom

“See?” she burst into a grin, “It’s good, right?”

    “It is…not bad. But what is the point of it? Does it provide something you mortals need?”

    “Yep! It provides joy and it tastes damn good. You want another?”

    He raised a brow, “I have one now.”

    “If you finish that one you can have another,” she said in a sing-song voice.

    “I do not appreciate your witchery, mortal. You cannot escape your fate with mere useless snacks.”

    “What witchery? It’s just a brownie. It tastes good, no magic needed. Not that we have magic. Would be cool if we did though.” She turned back to the pan and scooped out another square.

    When she turned back to Caldizaar she caught him licking crumbs from his fingers. She smirked and shimmied her shoulders. “You can have more,” she held out the piece in her hand.

    Caldizaar reached out, “I’m not impressed by you or your mortal food,” he said as he took the second brownie.

    She laughed. “Well it’s just us and there’s a whole pan. Even if you’re not impressed, one of us needs to eat them.”

    “Our agreement was one.”

    “And here you are on your second one. I haven’t even had more than a bite. I’m getting a whole square before we go.”

    “Then do so quickly.”

    “You know,” she said, “there don’t seem to be any brownies in hell. Nowhere to get more except for here.”

    “I’m getting tired of your games, mortal.”

    “Well fine. Here, have a third one and I will have my one, then we’ll be done with it.”

    “Do not think that you can trick your way out of this.”

    “Oh my goooodddd. How many times do I have to say it? I have my brownie, you tear my soul out, you yeet my body, and then we’re in hell. I’m not trying to trick you. What did you say your name was? I kind of missed it, what with the breaking of my front door and all.”

    “It is Caldizaar.”

    “Okay, Cal. Just chill with me for a second.”

    He looked down at himself, “I’ve done that already.”

    She burst out laughing. “No, no, I mean to wait. Here, I’m taking a bite, see?” She took a large bite from her brownie.

    “Why do you mortals not simply say what you mean? What is the purpose of these word games?”

    “There are no ‘games.’ This is just how we talk. There’s slang and implied meanings and whatever.”

    “I do not like this ‘whatever.’”

    “See,” she took another bite, “you keep putting air quotes around your words.”

    Caldizaar tipped his head to one side, “I’m sure I’m not putting anything in your air.”

    She chuckled around the rich gooeyness of the brownie. “It’s just the inflections you make when you say stuff. We all do it from time to time.”

    “You’re nearly out of time, mortal.”

    “Fine, fine. I’ve made you wait long enough.” She shoved the rest of the brownie into her mouth and licked the crumbs off her fingers. “So how does this whole soul-ripping thing work anyway? Do I lay down, do I stand? What’s the process here?”

    Caldizaar opened his mouth to speak but paused and closed it again. “I’ve never had a mortal ask me that before. I typically take them in whatever position I find them in. It’s usually on the floor.”

    “So, does that mean I need to lay down? Dying on my kitchen floor next to a pan of half-eaten brownies. Not the way I thought I’d go, but here we are.”

    “I suppose you could go out in whatever way you wish. It does not matter to me.”

    “You said it hurts, right?”

    “I’ve never died, but the amount of screaming that happens makes me assume it hurts. I’ve never considered it to be anything else.”

    She took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, uh, I really hadn’t ever thought about this before. Like, everyone’s dying, but I don’t think it’s like this. I mean, I assumed that it would be another fifty or so years before I died. Okay, okay, this sounds really dumb and childish, and I can’t believe I’m even asking this, but could I like, hug you? When you do it, I mean. So that I’m not just dropping dead in the middle of the floor. It sucks bad enough that I have to die in this damned apartment at all. Better than having to pay for repairs though.” She gave a weak chuckle, “And then, like, I’m already in your arms so you could just carry me outside and whoop, yeet me like a pop can.”

    “You are rambling, mortal, but if that is the way you choose to go, then so be it.”

    “I can’t believe I’m shaking so bad. I’m going to hug a fucking demon and just let him kill me. What in the hell?” She shook out her hands and arms, trying to get rid of the jitters. She closed the space between her and Caldizaar. She squeezed her eyes shut. Nevertheless, tears escaped one by one. “Okay, here goes.” She threw her arms around him.

    “What are you doing?”

    She opened her eyes one at a time and looked up at him. “I’m hugging you. You said this was okay?”

    “I assumed it was something else. I’ve never experienced a ‘hug’ before.”

    She stepped back, laughing a bit through the tears. “There’s those air quotes again. What do you mean you’ve never had a hug?”

    “That is not something demons do. We’ve never had a use for it. Is this one of those mortal things similar to brownies?”

    Her laugh was louder, if only for a moment. “I guess you could say that, in that they bring joy and they feel good.”

    “I see. Would you like to do it again?”

    “Ooh did you like it?”

    “I never said that.”

    “You didn’t like brownies before either, but you’ve already had three!”

    Caldizaar sighed, “If that is the way you wish to go, then do it.”

    She nodded and wrapped her arms around him again. “You know, Cal, hugs are so much more than brownies. They can be a greeting or a good-bye, they show affection and love, I heard they can even heal you a little. I’m sorry you’ve never had a hug before.”

    “Why do you apologize?”

    “I can’t imagine a life without hugs. I guess your first one is my last one.”

    Caldizaar lapsed into silence. After a moment, he gingerly put his arms around her. “I suppose it is,” he said quietly.

    She squeezed him tighter, “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

    Caldizaar didn’t respond. She could feel the way the tension left his body as he drew his arms closer around her as well.

    “Cal?”

    “Your last is my first,” he repeated softly.

    “You alright up there?”

    “I can’t explain it, but I do not want this to be my first and only. I,” he paused again, “This feeling has infected me and I don’t think it will be easy to get rid of.”

[wagner-fell]

“So then Catra writes on this note ‘hey Adora’ and Adora is like ‘grrrr’ and so they do this whole passive aggressive dance where you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Oh, and then-”

“I. Hate. History. Class.” Mari slammed their plastic lunch tray onto the table.

“Oh thank god,” said Kevin. Listening to Mari rant was much preferable to hearing about the Princess Prom episode from Astrid. Again.

Blessica hit Kevin and gave him a pointed look.

“I mean it’s bad enough I have to write essays about fucking colonizers. But now I have to sit next to this white-ass American boy? No thanks.”

“You know,” began Astrid, “if you wanted, I could kill this new guy for you with, oh I don’t know, werewolf po-”

“No!” they all shouted in unison. Astrid was mundane with the gift of the slight but she didn’t think of it like a gift. What was the point of being able to see this fantastical reality if she couldn’t be a part of it? What was the point of having three werewolves as your best friends if they refused to turn you into one?

Blessica tried to tell her that, as a downworlder, she would face a lot of discrimination. But what kinda excuse was that? Astrid was a Korean lesbian who, for most of the time, lived with her single mother. At least this branch of marginalization gave her freakin’ superpowers. The only superpower Astrid currently had at her disposal was not having to date men.

Astrid angrily took a bite of her cinnamon roll and Mari followed suit. Blessica tried to pat her arm but Astrid swatted her away.

“American?” Kevin asked. “I don’t remember any Americans. Is he new?”

Mari nodded through a mouthful of baked goods. She tucked her tie into her black-and-white uniform sweater vest so they didn’t stain it. Normally she wouldn’t have bothered but laundry had been a living nightmare lately. They promptly realized that her sweater vest was also going to get food on it. In removing it, their stomach flashed briefly. She stuffed it in her bag and set an alarm on her phone so they wouldn’t forget to put it back on before the lunch bell rang. Like that time Miss Yang made them jelly doughnuts and she got detention for a week. Mari really hated this school sometimes.

When she looked up to see half the surrounding area staring at them, they looked down at her collared shirt to see if she had gotten fresh cinnamon bun gooeyness on it already.

Astrid laughed. “It’s because you exposed your six-pack.” She moved her fork around in circles, making sure the ranch covered each piece of lettuce in her salad. Astrid loved ranch. She kept a gigantic bottle of it in her bag at all times. “You know, one time this guy asked me if you got them tattooed on. Cause girls can’t have abs and all that bull.”

“And what did you tell him?” asked Mari, amused.

“No.”

“Thank go-”

“I told him the truth. That the only tattoo you have is of Consul Lightwood’s face on your ass.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“The world deserves to know.”

“You're a hazard to society.”

“Awwwww. Mari! I love you too.”

Astrid smiled and shoved a mouthful of salad into her mouth as Mari rolled their eyes.

“Holy shit,” said Blessica, staring at something over Mari’s shoulder. “That is the second hottest man I have ever seen.”

Kevin glanced in the direction she was looking at then back to her. “What? Who?” he asked at the same time Mari drawled, “second hottest, who’s the first?” with a single eyebrow raised.

Blessica blushed as Kevin continued his search. “M-magnus Bane. Obviously.”

“Riiiiiiiight,” said Astrid, looking between her and Kevin.

Blessica blushed deeper. “Shut up.”

“Wow,” said Kevin. “That him?” He pointed and this time Mari turned around…to face Kit fucking Herondale.

Blessica, still red in the face, nodded.

“Wow indeed,” agreed Astrid.

“Aren’t you a lesbian?” questioned Blessica.

“Blessie, darling, I may rather suck on a cactus than suck on a dick but hotties can admire their fellow hotties. Gender is irrelevant in this scenario.”

Mari slammed their hands down onto the table. “Ladies! We are better than simping, even just hottie wise, over an American, white boy! We have standards! And Kevin! I know that” disgust dripped from her voice, “is your type, but resist!”

He rolled his eyes. “Jesus. You hook up with two blonde nephilim and suddenly it’s your type.”

“Yes,” said Astrid slowly, as if explaining something to a very dim child, “that’s how it works.”

Mari felt like they were missing something. Her three friends began discussing where they wanted to go tomorrow for Blessica’s birthday but they were stuck on Kevin’s statement. Something about it wasn’t quite right. It took her longer than she was proud of to figure it out.

“Wait, hold up, did you say nephilim? Kit is a Shadowhunter?!”

They all exchanged a look. “Uh, yeah. Didn’t you see the Mark on his hand?”

Mari turned back to him again. He was sitting by himself at a few tables, scrolling away. And on the hand holding his water bottle… was a voyance rune, clear as day. How did they miss that? “What is a Shadowhunter doing here anyway?”

Kevin shrugged. “Perhaps he’s here to check out London’s up-coming werewolf. I hear she’s a hazard to society.”

Astrid’s head shot up. “Really?!”

“No, sorry sweetie,” interjected Blessica. Astrid finished her cinnamon bun with an annoyed ‘hmph’.

They chatted more about Blessica’s upcoming sixteenth birthday before Kevin came up with the dumbest idea ever. Which was an extremely difficult title to earn amongst the 11th years at St. Lucy’s Academy.

“We should invite the Shadowhunter.”

Mari scoffed. “The whole pack’s gonna be there! Like hell they would let a Shadowhunter crash it.”

“Oh please. Once they lay their eyes on McDreamy, they’ll all forget about his angel blood.”

Astrid gasped. “Is that a Grey’s Anatomy reference? Are you finally watching it?” They all ignored her.

“I think it might be fun,” said Blessica. “And it’s my party so…” She stood up and walked over to Kit’s table, Kevin right behind her.

Astrid picked up her salad with one hand and her second cinnamon bun with the other. “Come in,” she said. “What’s the worst that can happen. You fall in love?”

“Haha,” said Mari, slinging her bag over their shoulder and joining the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @adoravel-fenomeno @im-not-ruined-im-ruination@thechangeling @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @sofiatheskeleton @cncnbr @its-taff @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @maxboythedog @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @book-dragon-not-worm @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers Lmk if you want to b adde/removed from the tag list!

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Pumpkin Carving (Negan x Reader)

Prompt: 14. Warm Hands • “You’re carving a dick into your pumpkin, aren’t you?” • Goofiness

Word count: 778

A/N: Alright, this is my entry for @thewalkingdead-imagines 's "Negan's Spooky Writing Challenge". I just enjoy her challenges a lot and couldn't resist to join since this is actually my 3rd time participating!

This was taking longer than you expected, who would have thought how much seeds were inside the big pumpkin in your hands. Hollowing out your pumpkin you observed Negan on the other side of the table: the soft golden light of the autumn slipping through the dusty windows painted the room in orangey warm tones that matched perfectly with Negan’s hazel eyes. He looked beyond handsome in his white shirt and though it was almost strange seeing him without his leather jacket, you loved seeing him without it.

The table was full of spoons and gooey pumpkin guts as you tried your best to scoop all of it outside.

It almost felt like Halloween.

You didn’t celebrate holidays, at least not since the world went to shit. Couldn’t remember when was the last time you actually celebrated something or the last time you saw pumpkins as anything other than food.

The many years of running and surviving made you forget what it felt like to decorate for a certain holiday, the way even the air felt different in autumn, it had alway been your favorite season and Negan knew it.

The supply run had been one of the best in months, they had found enough food to feed the whole Sanctuary for at least a month. Negan was satisfied with all the supplies they had found but what really made him happy was to find a pumpkin patch good and ready to be harvested.

When he came back you couldn’t help but laugh as he showed you the ‘little present’ he brought you, because there was not such thing as ‘little’ in the pumpkins that were already placed on the table of the kitchen, but rather they were the biggest pumpkins you had seen in a long time. It was his idea to carve them like people used to in the past.

You saw how his concentrated features suddenly seemed to light up as a wide grin spreaded over his face and a throaty chuckle left his lips. You immediately knew exactly why he was smiling like that.

"You're carving a dick into your pumpkin, aren't you?" you said, sure as hell he was doing so.

"Shit, am I that predictable?" He chuckled.

“Yeah, sometimes.” you laughed. “So, how’s the dick looking?” you regretted your poor choice of words immediately but Negan clearly enjoyed them as his wolfish smile took over his face.

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself, sweetheart?” he told you with a teasing tone.

“Not what I meant, Negan.” you chuckled, shaking your head. “The one in the pumpkin.”

“I know, I’m just messing around with ya.” he said with a sincere smile. “Although the offer still stands.” he winked at you.

Negan’s eyes went to the pumpkin and then back at you.

“It's actually not going good, it's so damn hard to carve this shit out. “ Negan told you running a hand through his face. “I think it's actually easier to kill some rottin’ walkers.”

“I agree.” you said. “I can even finish hollowing it out.”

“My fault, I brought these big ass pumpkins without thinking.” he said before a new grin appeared over his face as he walked towards you. “Why don’t you let your man give you a hand with that, baby?”

You nodded and moved aside so he could have free access to the pumpkin. Negan's hands traveled to the pumpkin, immediately taking some of the gooey guts, he gave you a curious look.

“No.” you told him, already figuring out his intentions. “Negan, don’t you dare!”

Too late.

With a swift move of his hand all the seeds and gooeyness of the inside of the pumpkin flew through the air and landed over you.

“Oh, this is war.” you said throwing some of the slimy things over him.

You lost count of the time with all the laughing and throwing. The kitchen surely ended like a mess. It was a strange scene, almost surreal to see the fearless leader of the Saviors laughing around, relaxed. For a moment you even forgot about the world outside, about the walkers, the bad people out there, all of it just seemed to fade away. It was just him and you in the end of the world.

When the game was over you felt Negan's warm hands wrapping around you, the warm sensation of his hands and his scent surrounding you made your body relax more than ever yet, it made the heat grow in your body.

“Let’s just ditch the pumpkins and do something a bit… funnier.” you whispered in his ear, winning a smile from him.

"Of fuckin' course, baby."

[when-they-write-stuff]

Can you pretty please write a #14 sterek Or maybe a #24 for Lydia or Allison

14. I'm gonna end up breaking your little heart in two.

- -

It was another usual stakeout. 

‘Usual’ meaning Stiles had gone through his snacks two hours ago and his stomach was starting to growl again. Derek hadn’t touched his protein bars and when Stiles’s stomach made a particularly loud noise, he sighed and pushed one over. Stiles crowed in triumph and took it, peeling off the wrapper.

“You know, Sourwolf,” he said, taking a large bite. “These aren’t terrible, but you should let me pick out your snacks next time.”

“You went through a bag of skittles, hot cheetoes, and a packet of Reeses in twenty minutes. I don’t want to corrupt my arteries, so no thanks.”

“But dude! The corruption is the best part!”

Derek gave him an unimpressed sideways glance. Stiles sighed and slumped deeper into his chair, peering out against the night. They were alone on the street. Nothing else moved.

“Tell me again, what are we here for? You know, other than stuffing our faces and getting bored out of our minds.”

“Jackson thinks his new neighbor is a supernatural of some kind. It’d best to check and make sure.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, scratching at his nose. “Why are we listening to Jackson again? The douchebag probably just thinks his neighbor isn’t good enough to live on his block, so he’s setting the pack on the poor guy.”

Derek grunted noncommittally. Stiles sighed.

“Can we play music?”

“No.”

“Not even some of that eighties that you like so much? I’m drowning in my own thoughts, Sourwolf, this is serious. Do you know what it’s like to be stuck in my brain?”

“I’d imagine it’s a lot of bagpipe noises,” Derek said drily. “Playing all the time as loud as possible.”

Stiles glared at him. “For your information, it’s much more festive than that. Imagine dance music and flashing neon lights.”

“That sounds even worse.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and slouched down deeper into his seat. He moved to prop his feet up on the dashboard, but froze when Derek shot him a murderous look. Lowering his feet back to the ground, Stiles sighed again. Loudly. Derek’s face tightened a fraction and Stiles found that hilarious, sighing one more time.

“Stiles,” Derek said, his jaw ticking. “I’m going to gut you.”

“That’s rude.”

“I can literally hear you thinking of ways to annoy me right now. You’re not smooth.”

“Excuse me, Sourwolf, but I am thinking nothing of the sort.”

“Why did I bring you with me again?”

“Because of my charming personality and witty banter. You know the rest of the pack would let you down on both ends.”

Derek grunted. But it wasn’t a sound of denial and Stiles thought that was saying something. He grinned and tossed an arm behind his head, cracking his neck from side to side. Derek winced at that.

The werewolf was a total baby when it came to popping bones. During the time they’d spent together, Stiles had started to realize that. And he exploited every part of it.

Suddenly, the man sat up. Stiles flailed around until he was straightened too.

Coming down the driveway of the house was a shadowed figure holding a couple of large trash bags. Stiles leaned forward, but couldn’t get a good look at him. The guy looked up and down the road before dumping them into his trashcan, and then hurried out of sight. Stiles blinked a few times.

“Okay, that seemed a little suspicious.”

“He was throwing away trash.”

“He looked like he was getting rid of a dead body. Oh! Derek! What if he was getting rid of a dead body?”

Derek just rolled his eyes and turned the keys in the ignition. He kept the headlights off and drove slowly past the house; Stiles jumped out when they got close enough and flipped the trash can lid opened. Except, instead of a dead body, he was looking at… what seemed like animal entrails. A couple candles burned all the way down. And something that smelled suspiciously like wolfsbane.

Stiles gagged and stumbled back into the Camaro. Waving for Derek to start the car, Stiles breathed in and out of his mouth for a few seconds. He felt nauseous for a little longer.

“What was it?”

“Animal guts, candles, and wolfsbane. Nothing good,” Stiles said. Derek’s face tightened and he cursed.

“Warlock.”

“Dude, seriously? That’s what we’re dealing with?”

“Those things must’ve been from some sort of ritual. Nothing good comes out of warlocks and their spells.”

Nothing good came out of them for the poor animals Stiles had seen, that was for sure. He tried to shake those images from his mind, resisting the urge to gag again. Derek cast a concerned look over.

“You alright?”

“You know, it warms my heart when you care, Sourwolf.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do and I adore it,” Stiles said. Derek’s face tightened and Stiles snorted, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m fine. Tired and a little nauseous, but fine.”

“I’ll take you home,” Derek said. Stiles waved a hand through the air.

“Dad’s working a nightshift. Lemme crash at the loft.”

Derek gave him a dubious look. Stiles only rolled his eyes and shifted into a better sitting position. The wrappers of his snacks crinkled underneath his feet. 

He crashed at the loft more than he did at home lately, with his dad being loaded with longer and longer shifts. Stiles knew he was proving his worth for his badge, but he still hated coming home to an empty house. It was just too quiet.

Derek didn’t say anything, shifting lanes and heading in the other direction. Stiles grinned to himself.

He was half asleep by the time the Camaro rolled to a stop. Stiles blinked blearily against the darkness and before he knew what was happening, Derek had moved around the side of the car and opened up his door. Stiles huffed as Derek helped him out, leaning up against the man’s side.

“You’re such a softie, Sourwolf.”

“Shut up.”

“You are,” Stiles said. “The softest Sourwolf in all of Beacon Hills. No one could ever rival your gooeyness.”

Derek grunted and Stiles could practically hear him rolling his eyes, but the man didn’t say anything else. He just wrapped an arm around Stiles’s shoulder and guided him toward the loft. It was so dark out, Stiles could barely see two feet in front of him. But Derek didn’t let him trip over any of the stairs.

“Are the rest of the betas here?”

Derek tilted his head and listened for a second, then slid the loft door open. “Asleep.”

“Next time, make Isaac and Erica do the nightshift.”

“They’ll tear each other apart.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be so hilarious. I swear, they bicker like literal kids. Literal kids with claws. That’s an accident waiting to happen.”

Derek chuckled, leading him around the couch and down the hall. Stiles could hear faint snores coming from behind closed doors and for some reason, that made him smile. He nearly stumbled over his own feet, cursing loudly, and the snores paused for a second. 

Then they started again.

“You know,” Stiles said as Derek led him into the last bedroom. “If you’re not careful, I’m gonna start thinking you care about me.”

“Of course I don’t care about you. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Cause that’d be bad for your reputation, wouldn’t it?”

“Fatal.”

“You’re a real catch when you sarcastic, Sourwolf,” Stiles said sleepily. “You should be sarcastic more often.”

“But then it’d lose its charm.”

Stiles laughed quietly to himself. He’d never admit it out loud, but he treasured nights like this. The nights when they’d done too much research, stayed awake for too many hours, or chased after a monster for too many days. The nights when Stiles nudged at Derek’s walls and Derek let them down.

When Derek tucked him into bed and said soft things that he never seemed to realize Stiles listened to.

“Guess the warlock’s a tomorrow problem,” Stiles said, dropping onto the bed and burrowing into the mound of blankets and pillows. Derek climbed into bed on the other side.

“Guess so.”

“You know,” Stiles said, eyes already half-closed. “One of these days, we’re going to get out of here. A nice break from everything, when there’s no monsters or witches or warlocks to go after.”

Derek didn’t say anything. Stiles sighed into his pillow.

“Like a road trip or something.”

“A road trip.”

“Or something.”

Derek chuckled and Stiles felt gentle fingers stretch out and touch his own. He sighed in contentment and didn’t pull away; he never did. He never did and never would, and Derek knew that.

The silence passed for a long moment. Stiles steadied out his breaths and heard Derek shift around. He could feel the man’s eyes on him for a second. Lingering, quiet. He could almost taste the sadness of the man on nights like this. When sometimes he would just watch until dawn came.

“I'm gonna end up breaking your little heart in two,” Derek whispered into the darkness. Stiles’s heart twisted and after a moment, Derek settled down again.

One day, Stiles was going to prove him wrong. He’d promised himself that before and he’d keep promising until it came true. Because his heartbeat hadn’t skipped earlier; one day, they were going to leave this place. Him and Derek. Derek and him.

A road trip. Or something.

- -

I started this unsure where to go with it, but ohhhh, the soft feels hit unexpectedly. Thank you so much for the prompt, my friend, I totally loved writing the end of this one!

(Support your overcaffinated (so much so) student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[botherkupo]

Fictober, Day 28

Pairing: Adrienette

Day 28: "Enough! I heard enough."

"They look really good," Adrien says.

Tikki licks her lips. "Did she put extra chocolate chips in?"

"Looks like it."

They both stare at the plate of cookies on the bench. The warm, chunky, chocolate chip cookies that would be so sweet and gooey and just melt in the mouth. Ugggh, he wants one so bad. Too bad Marinette has forbidden him or Tikki from having any. (The cookies are supposed to be a gift for Nadia and Manon.)

Tikki clears her throat. "Maybe …"

His gaze flicks to her.

She shakes her head, turning the other way. "No, no, forget it. We couldn't."

His brow creases. "What?"

"I just … I just wondered if maybe we could share one."

"Tikki," he gasps with exaggerated shock. "Are you suggesting we go against Marinette and steal a cookie?"

The rosy colour of her cheeks deepens. "Well, the cookies are right there! And they're still warm, and she didn't make us our own batch this time, and she put extra chocolate chips in!"

He tries very hard not to laugh. Tikki is normally such a stickler for the rules, but her sweet tooth has always been her downfall. (Plagg, no doubt, would have many things to say about Tikki's desire to become a cookie thief had the cat kwami not been sleeping off a camembert-induced coma in the bedroom.)

"Okay," Adrien whispers, putting his face closer to Tikki's and covering one side of his mouth like a true conspirator. "We take one. I'm sure Marinette won't notice."

Tikki nods grimly, though she stops him with a red paw when he reaches for one of the cookies. "Don't tell Stinky Sock."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He mimes sealing his lips.

Knowing that his girlfriend could come back into the kitchen at any moment, he breaks one of the cookies in half and gives Tikki a piece. They greedily eat their treasure, crumbs spilling in their haste, and sharing small grins. The cookie is just as good as imagined. So much chocolatey gooeyness.

Tikki licks her lips when she's finished, and her big eyes shift back to the plate. "Hey, Adrien …"

"Mm?"

"Don't you think it looks a bit out of balance now?"

He frowns at the plate. "You're right. It's obvious one is missing."

"Maybe …"

Their eyes meet and their lips form identical grins.

"Just one more to balance it?" he suggests.

"Exactly what I was thinking."

oOo

"They're all gone," Tikki says in wide-eyed horror as they both stare at the empty plate in his hands. "Adrien, what have we done?"

He swallows. "You can't use your powers to bring them back, can you?"

"You know it doesn't work that way!"

Marinette's voice drifts to them, calling Adrien's name. He and Tikki share a panicked glance. Oh no. The door handle to the kitchen rattles, and then Marinette is standing in the doorway. Her gaze zeroes in on the crumb-littered plate.

"It was her idea," Adrien blurts at the same time Tikki claims he stole the first cookie.

"Hey!" they cry, giving outraged looks at each other.

"You were the one who suggested we share one!" he accuses.

"Well, you kept going back for more!"

His jaw drops. "That was you! You were like a cookie-thieving gremlin! And here I thought Plagg was the only one who vacuums up his food!"

"What? If anyone was vacuuming up those cookies, it was you!" Tikki says, poking him in the forehead. "And you—"

"Enough!" Marinette cries.

"But—"

"I think I heard enough to know you're both at fault here," Marinette says, planting her hands on her hips.

Adrien and Tikki hang their heads.

"I can't believe you two! I told you those cookies were for Nadia and Manon."

"Sorry," Adrien says, shoulders slumping.

Tikki lets out a huge burp, then squeaks and clamps her hands over her mouth. Adrien's eyes widen. He shoots her a horrified look, as if to ask if she wants to get them in further trouble. (Everyone knows you don't burp in front of the person you stole food from.) Tikki winces.

A soft, snorty sound draws their attention back to Marinette. She bites her lips. Her cheeks puff out and redden, and then she's suddenly hunching over and laughter is spilling free of her lips.

Adrien blinks. "Uh …"

"Y-you should see your f-faces!" Marinette says, still giggling.

Tikki and Adrien share a confused glance.

"Then �� you're not mad?" Tikki asks.

"Oh no, I'm mad. Should have known better than to leave you two sweet tooths alone with the cookies."

"We really are sorry," Adrien offers, rubbing the base of his neck. "We only meant to share one, but they were just so good."

"So good," Tikki agrees dreamily, and then pulls herself together with a snap. "Though of course it was very wrong what we did."

Marinette shakes her head with a smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just help me bake a new batch, and this time don't steal any."

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: With Wax Melted III

---

The table was somehow not crowded at all as the sound of cutlery scraping, requests for platters to be passed and the quiet background music filled the kitchen. It had been a while longer before Jo announced dinner was prepared and she’d gently coaxed the group into moving. Grey was almost certain she’d made the table bigger somehow but that was a thought for later, when he wasn’t having to negotiate exactly how to fit everything on a plate together.

“Hun,” Jo murmured as she leaned over his shoulder to take the bowl filled with the home made pasta dressed in the pesto and fresh rocket leaves and dish out a small pile onto his plate. About half the size he had been trying to negotiate onto the plate. “You realize the bonus of family-style is that you can take seconds, right?”

“Oh, true.” Grey let out a quiet laugh as he sat back in his seat. His plate could be filled again if he wanted it to, and as he took a forkful of the zesty pasta and enjoyed the slight lemony finish, he knew he’d be taking a second helping of pasta if not everything. “This is so good, Jo.”

He wasn’t kidding though - the taste was just right with the pesto he’d been talked through tasted like a truly basil bliss. The lemon offset it perfectly and the pasta itself was al dente and Grey was going to never get over how quickly and efficiently Jo had whipped up the fresh dish. The yellow strands were beautiful and were delicate in a way he’d never attempted to make of his own nor were they as thick or too perfectly made as the store bought where it lacked the rustic and obvious care and love that these ones did. It was perfect.

“Of course it is, you helped.” The blonde chided him back, tapping the back of his head with the handle of the serving spoon before she rounded the table to help the other blonde in the house sort out her meal. “Hey, lemme help, Ombre!”

“You helped make the meal?” The question came from Grey’s right, and the curious look on the elder’s face was veiled slightly more than the curiosity in his tone. Amon glanced between his plate and the shadow before giving a slight nod. “It’s very well made.”

“Oh, well, I helped. Jo did a lot of it.” “Really?” “She’s definitely under playing how much is her work-”

“Multitalented, hmm?” Amon turned from looking towards Grey down towards the other end of the table where the two blondes were talking and Jo was dishing up not only the pasta but encouraging the younger girl to try a little of both the vegetarian and meat options - “If you haven’t tried meat, you should and see how you feel, Ombre” - before he turned back towards the man beside him. “I have to stop underestimating her, perhaps.”

“Don’t do that,” Grey grinned a little, taking the plate of caperese salad that Harry handed him to add a few of the fresh tomatoes onto his plate. “She likes being underestimated.”

“Yeah, and she also likes shooting you in the back when she gets the chance.” The researcher piped up as he let out a laugh of his own, tucking into the crumbed beef parmesan that had both the gooey cheese layered on top and the thick tomato sauce Grey’d made layered between the still crisp beef schnitzels. Jo must have only heated that through enough to brown the cheese under the griddle so that the crumb wouldn’t get soggy, and if the eggplant version wasn’t so delicious, Grey’d be tempted to give it a try himself. The sauce had been thick when he’d last seen it, and he almost had thought when he left it it had been a little chunky still - but the sauce that filled the layers between the umami-rich eggplant slices was instead thick in a silky way with no graininess. The béchamel white sauce and golden brown cheese on top had the right level of gooeyness to it, pulling in a long string of golden deliciousness with each slice. That Jo’d made both options was going down well, as both Grey and Shada appreciated the meat-free alternative and Harry and Ombre both had a bit of each on their plates, while Amon had been advised with a sly look from Jo she’d made sure to make their beef version a little bigger. Harry grinned around his mouthful before adding. “I mean, it’s good when she’s on your team but sucks when you play for the opposition.”

“I’ve seen that being on her bad side is not a good idea.” The slightly deeper tone in Amon’s voice piqued Grey’s interest before he found himself blushing to realize exactly how true that was, and the veiled intent behind the man’s words. That was something they couldn’t see eye to eye about, but Grey found himself appreciating that the other had put that aside, as usual, on his behalf. There was a pause before the older man asked carefully, the cool tone disappearing from his words. “But what do you mean by team?”

Grey half listened in as Harry appeared to go onto one of his famous, disjointed stories explaining the whole concept of first-person-shooters and gaming; eyes darting on occasion to see that Amon seemed to have known exactly what he was doing getting the other distracted and babbling away. It took the pressure off both Grey and Amon to do more than nod or mumble encouragingly while getting to enjoy their meal, and Grey did always find Harry’s passion for their shared hobby to be fun to experience second hand.

As he chewed on a piece of his garlic breadstick (which was somehow pillowy and held a sweet nuttiness from the browned garlic, and he almost felt proud at his contribution to this part of the dinner at how well the garlic and herbs had been balanced), Grey turned his attention past the two other men down to the other end of the table where Jo had finally sat down and was now caught between his two sisters talking about some shopping trip they hoped to do. It was fast paced, and Grey watched on as Jo’s eyes darted back and forth between both other women like a tennis match trying to follow the flow of conversation and getting horribly lost. After a few moments of observing, the blonde finally seemed to notice his observation - brown eyes fixing onto his instead for a moment before he could see her cheeks turning bright red around a bite of her dinner at being caught and the wink Grey delivered her. Jo quickly swallowed her mouthful and jumped right into the middle of the conversation, a tiny twitch to her lips letting Grey know it was just as amusing to her.

“Brother?” “Hmm?”

“Can you please tell Cupcake that I will entirely behave myself this year for Christmas. Please?” Shada’s voice singsonged across the table as she had spotted his watching the three women’s conversation. “I won’t even try to sit in Dean’s lap if he forgets to ask me to.”

“Oh like I believe that, Shada.” Grey chuckled, shaking his head at the other. “Anyway, if we’re having Jo’s family for Christmas then-”

“Then we get to come too, right?” Ombre chirped up happily, tossing her hair in a hilarious mimic of her older sister. “Oui?”

Grey shook his head for a moment and found himself sighing deeply as Jo chimed up with that teasing look on her face. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure we’re doin’ anthin’ for Christmas. At least, not with anyone else.” The eyelash batting from the blonde did nothing to stop the embarrassed groan that got from him. “Just kiddin’, but I really don’t know if everyone will be around this year.”

“Perhaps we’ll have a relaxed one this year.” Grey added, shrugging a shoulder at the deflated looks he was receiving from both sisters. It was still a month away, they could work something out closer and perhaps they’d be distracted or busy anyway. The approving look he was receiving from the man beside him helped a little, as did the way Harry quickly jumped in to explain his plans for the holiday season and changed the topic along with it.

Dinner flowed well though, and Grey found himself in awe at just how comfortable it felt for him to be sat there surrounded by the group that had assembled. Even Amon was convivial and Grey had watched eyes wide when Ombre had tried to convince the demon to ‘do the pretty eye trick’ only to have her distracted by Jo’s suggesting they go feed Nana her dinner since they’d finished early. The look of relief on the demon’s face though at nobody else daring to use the phrasing or to bring it up was priceless though, and a gift of itself to Grey.  That it was comfortable for three monsters, a demon, a hunter and a hunting researcher to be sharing bread - quite literally when Harry and Shada squabbled over the last roll before Jo offered half of hers to the loser, Harry - and it feel like a regular family occasion felt both surreal and perfectly normal for Grey. Normal was whatever his life with Jo was shaping up to be after all, it was normal for the sun to rise in the east and for his world to warp itself to neatly match with her rising times that perhaps it should feel equally normal for her world to wrap and bend itself to match his.

---

When the idea of dessert had been brought up originally, with everyone splayed around the lounge room in different levels of satiated from the amazing meal already served, there had been a round of denials and claims that another mouthful would make them explode. Jo had tutted quietly behind her teeth and suggested she’d just bring in a little something in case anyone got pekish - and with the arrival of the large serving platter covered in delectables, those denials got far far quieter.

There were the small pastries from earlier of the salted caramel tartlets that were so perfectly sweet but bitter with the mix of salt and dark chocolate cutting through the sugary sweetness of the rich, buttery caramel, lemon meringue pies that had even been decorated with small pearls of ruby red pomegranate seeds that added to the sweet tartness of the cirtrus bites and meringue kisses which had swirls of colors both blue and yellow throughout to make small flowers of sugary whiteness that Grey had seen crafted beautifully, and that tasted like heaven the moment he tried any of them. There was fresh fruit with strawberries and blueberries and delicate mandarins sitting beside lovingly prepared slices of plums and pears, with halved figs that appeared to be drizzled with honey sat proudly next to walnuts, and almonds, and grapes. There was a small pot of what looked to be whipped, sweetened ricotta for dipping right beside another bowl of melted chocolate also awaiting the dip of a delicious morsel. There were cut up pieces of waffle and tiny doughnut balls sitting and waiting for their time to be enjoyed, and finally what looked to be a few shards of very quality chocolate decorated throughout. The whole platter was as vibrant and inviting as breakfast and dinner had been, and while Jo disappeared back into the kitchen in search of drinks, Grey was surprised that everyone held back enough for her to get out the door before the first few pieces picked and enjoyed.

“Ah ha!” Jo cried proudly as she came back in, a tray held in one hand that held the drinks for the group like the seasoned bartender she was. She pointed a finger around at everyone, not missing at all the sticking fingers or the half eaten evidence of their snacking already. “I told you you’d all find room, didn’t I?”

“It isn’t our fault,” Harry was the first one to speak up, licking the cinnamon sugar from his doughnut ball from his fingers before grabbing one of the serviettes that Jo’d left out. “You made it look all pretty. And I, for one, know what it’s like to miss out on your baking. So I clearly had to eat something.”

“Oh clearly.” The sarcasm rolled off Jo’s tongue quickly but it was obvious she was as amused as everyone else as she handed the researcher a milky looking glass with his Bailey’s and milk. “What are the rest of your excuses?”

“I never claimed I was full!” Ombre chirped up from where she’d opted to sit on the floor between the coffee table and television facing everyone. She had floofed her skirts out and was extremely excited that Nana had come downstairs during dinner and was laying on the rug nearby her. Grey’d watched the cautious look the dog gave the newcomer and was so proud to see how little reaction she had given other than an uncertain tail flip. “Besides, the tartlets are si doux - so so cute! I must try!”

Shada leaned forward from her spot on the couch beside Harry’s armchair with a small smirk all her own as she popped a grape into her mouth. “Can’t let it go to waste when you’ve put so much work in, Jo.” The smile Grey caught from her slowly shifted as if an idea had crossed her mind and he felt himself shaking his head right as the brunette added, “Surprised there aren’t any cupcakes, Cupcake.”

“Made them the last few times, and I had pastry on hand.” “Oh? So bought then?” “Nah, just made a pumpkin pie last week and made a double batch.”

The cups of tea were sat down quickly in front of the two other women from her tray as Jo shrugged a shoulder, before she moved around to the large armchair that the eldest in the room had taken up. Grey had happily suggested that his friend have the comfortable armchair nearest the spot on the couch that he’d taken for himself beside his sister, and watching as Jo handed off the glass, Grey had been amused at how accommodated for the demon had been. As well as everyone else. There’d been Guinness available as well as the regular beer line ups Jo kept about for hunters and herself, there had been a bottle of Baileys cooling in the fridge to make Harry a creamy after-dinner-drink, there had even been some specifically chosen Irish whiskey and liqueur that was what filled the glass that Amon was swirling carefully with a considered look. Grey couldn’t help the rush of warmth he felt realizing how much Jo’d taken everyone’s preferences in mind with even the dessert platter and the bourbon and coke she slipped into his hand; his sunshine making sure that everyone felt the same amount of warmth and hospitality throughout the whole night.

“And you, hunny, what’s your excuse?” Jo caught his attention from his musing with a wide smile as she perched herself on the arm rest beside him. Grey blinked uncertain what she was asking for a long moment, before she took pity on him. “You said you were full, and I come back in to see you dippin’ three waffle bites into the fondue.”

“Well, you know me. I fondue.” “Do you? Fondue?” “Sometimes.”

“Oh stop flirting you two.” Harry chuckled, breaking the joke as Grey tugged on the end of Jo’s hair playfully before turning back towards his friend. “Didn’t you spend enough time doing it today, huh?”

Grey found himself shaking his head as he laughed and tried to fight the blush from making itself known on his cheeks. “Hey, there’s company around, Harry. Besides, we were busy with preparing dinner all day.”

“Oh, totally,” Jo gushed on top, and Grey saw her shifting to sit on the rug between his end of the couch and Amon’s armchair with the same bright red threatening her cheeks. “We were slavin’ over a hot stove all day, ain’t nobody had time for anythin’ else.”

“I find that hard to believe.” The growled comment from the other end caught everyone’s attention before the blush came rushing up full force as Grey caught the knowing look in the other man’s eye. Amon’s brow jerked up for a moment in a way that was so familiar to the expressions possible from him usually, and Grey felt himself letting out an awkward but amused laugh at recognizing exactly that look. “Though I do hope you had an enjoyable day, Grey.”

“Thanks, Amon.” Grey murmured the response out as he scratched at the back of his neck and tried to fight the blush down. It wasn’t hard to appreciate the at least jump from Harry’s teasing, but it didn’t escape him that the same was still happening.

He was saved from trying to work out how to change the topic as he watched in almost sickeningly slow motion as Jo’s hand moved from popping a meringue in her mouth to hitting out at the demon’s calf. “Oh, don’t you start teasin’ him too.” Jo chided around the mouthful of sweets, and tossed her head back to pin the other with a look. “He’s been very busy day - we took Nana for a walk down by the lake to chase the ducks and got lunch out. Ain’t nobody got time for much else when the pup wants somethin’ - as you know very well.”

“Ah yes, you did seem to raise a very demanding pup.” “She is a goddamn princess - she can be demandin’ as she wants.” “That says so very much.”

“Why thank you.” The glowing smile that was directed up towards the other from the blonde made Grey laugh at how carefree it was before Jo’s look transformed into a smirk and she crawled around the edge of the coffee table to sit next to the pup in question and give the slowly wagging dog a large amount of happy pets alongside the other blonde. “You’re such a good girl aren’t you. Don’t listen to grump ol’ Amon, he forgets what it’s like to be young like us.” The cooing was as gentle but clearly loud enough for everyone to hear and get a good laugh out before Jo and Ombre disolved into a quiet conversation over the dog.

Grey leaned forward to rest a hand over his friend’s forearm though, the corner of his lips twitching into an uncertain smile. “Jo just spoils her, I guess.”

“You might have to watch out for that one day. Unfortunately if you let your... pup make too many calls early on, you’ll have trouble helping them make good choices later.” Amon’s words sounded more bemused than annoyed, and the slight worry that Jo’s teasing might cause a problem disappeared at catching the other man’s eye as he took a sip of his drink thoughtfully. “Though perhaps you too will luck out.”

Grey swallowed a sip of his own drink trying to loosen his throat as he smiled across at the other, before his attention was grabbed by Shada demanding he explain some movie plot line Harry was talking about but couldn’t remember the name of the film for. That took almost everyone to work out that the researcher had completely mixed the plot lines of Venom and Upgrade which turned into an argument on which was better, and then why posession is so over used in Hollywood and before Grey knew it, Ombre was shouting loudly while Harry was teasing her about living out the intention of the Lazarus Effect, and everyone was laughing in their own way at the ridiculousness before diverting into just how wrong movies are about practically everything which lasted late into the evening.

---

“Thanks again for coming, Harry,” Grey said as he pulled the other man in for a quick hug and back pat before they stepped apart. Harry was smiling wide and Grey met it equally pleased as he’d accompanied the other to the door. It had gotten very late, and Grey hadn’t even known where the time had gone. “We’re catching up Sunday for brunch?”

“Yeah, man. There’s a burger joint down the refurbished docks I wanted to check out.” “Burgers sounds good. They got outdoor seating?” “Totally. You can probably walk Nana down and then we can actually have beers.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Grey nodded repeatedly and wasn’t surprised to be pulled in for another quick hug from the other before Harry made his way down the steps and towards the van parked out front. It always felt good to catch up with the other, and getting to find somewhere new to enjoy in town would be good for both of them. “See you!” He called out a little quieter than needed as he waved a hand after the other.

“We’re headed off too,” Shada said, getting a jump out of Grey when she and Ombre appeared to pop up behind him without his having noticed. The cheeky grin at catching him off guard was printed across both women’s faces as they moved in to hug him in conjunction. “Tell Jo we’ll be around to get her next week for shopping-”

“If she doesn’t have a, uh, for her it’s called a hunt right? Not a job?” “That’s right, Ombre.” “Ah, droite! I got it right!”

“I’ll make sure to remind her, but what do you mean tell her?” Grey smiled widely at both his sister’s as he pulled them both in after a moment for a hug each. Ombre swished her skirts as she shrugged a shoulder and waved a hand at the other to talk when Grey and Shada finally pulled back from their tighter hug. “Sis?”

“Your gal tired herself out. Again.” Shada replied with a smirk, dark eyes glittering with amusement as she jerked her head back towards the lounge. “You left for all of two seconds with Harry, and she did a repeat of last year.”

“Huh?” Grey frowned in confusion for a second before he shook his head and couldn’t help the impulse but to get a third quick hug from each of his sisters instead. When Ombre wiggled in against his side, an amusing feat given not only her height but her chunky heeled shoes, Grey finally held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, you two stay safe and have a good night, yeah?”

“Totally. It’s just in time for breakfast croissants in Paris after all,” The brunette said cheekily as she ushered the youngest out the front door, sharing a roll of the eyes with their brother as Ombre let out an excited squeal at the idea. “I do hope you’ve have a good day, brother.”

“With you guys, and Amon, and Harry, and Jo?” Grey said gently as he held onto the door and saw the blonde dash off down the steps excitedly before he caught his sister’s eye again. “How could I not?”

There was a pause as the dark haired woman seemed to pin him for a second, as if trying to discern if there was something she had missed, before the smile on her lips grew wider and almost as bright as his favorite kind of smiles. “Oh good. We’ll be around soon, Grey. I love you.”

“Love you too, Shada.” Grey couldn’t help the impulse then to quickly tug her into another hug, bringing a loud laugh out of the other at the tight squeeze, before they both finally pulled back and gave a gentle wave as Grey shut the door and Shada ran off after their younger sister.

He had completely forgotten Shada’s confusing commentary until he made his way into the lounge and had to bite back the laugh at spotting Jo’s head dropped where she was leaning against the side of the armchair, seemingly fast asleep, with their dog’s head laid equally asleep over her lap. In the chair, Amon was seated but seemed to be completely ignoring the dozing pair as he simply held his glass, staring at it considering.

“Oh no,” Grey finally managed to get some words out without laughing as he moved around the back of the couch towards the small group. Nana’s head slowly lifted, showing she had been merely dozing and her tail began to thump softly and sleepily against the floor. “Sorry that I left you with the boring pair, Amon.”

“It’s fine, Grey. I am sure that you’ve had a very eventful day, and she was-” There was a pause as the other appeared to pull his attention out of the slowly melting ice in his glass to look between Grey’s face and where the hunter was clearly fast asleep. Amon appeared to take a moment to select his words, brows creased slightly as the words took time to come to him. “-clearly very attentive and stressed this evening.”

“Stressed?” “Perhaps not, but she was far less relaxed than your usual evenings.”

“Oh.” He found himself nodding as he moved closer to sit back into his spot on the couch, eyes not once moving from looking towards the dozing blonde. She did seem to have deeper bags under her eyes than usual that evening, and Grey had noticed she had had a relatively small dinner - more on her feet fetching this or that for others, or focused on adding to conversation and including everyone than on her own meal - and hadn’t even finished her whiskey and coke given it was almost entirely full in it’s spot on the coffee table, water floating atop where the ice cubes had melted. “Well, she... Jo does like to be a good hostess I guess.”

Amon quirked a brow up as he took a long sip of his drink, and Grey found his eyes darting from Jo’s face up to the other’s knowing look but unable to meet it for long. “She cares about you, boy. At least in that she has improved.” Amon growled the words out quietly as he swirled the last of his drink in his glass. “If she did not care for making you happy, do you think she’d have made the effort it takes to include myself?”

Grey couldn’t help the warmth that spread to him thinking about that. The other was very correct in that his very presence, sitting as he was in the form he was in the space he was, was something that required time and thought. And on top of that, coming from the blonde hunter, something extra to make that choice and trust - let alone the extra care to accommodate the other’s tastes for dinner and drinks. The amount of effort in that alone blew him away without even taking in that, as was slowly becoming tradition, she had trusted Grey’s trust in the demon enough to lower her guard such that she’d dozed off again in his presence. He shook his head sharply to try to stop the prickling feeling he felt in his eyes at looking at the image before him that tugged at something sharply inside.

“Well, I’m very lucky then.” He finally found the words himself, the depth of meaning only barely scratching the surface as he finally looked up to catch the other’s eye. Shrugging a shoulder as he finished his own drink, Grey sank back, boneless, into the couch with a sigh. “I.. I really have to say thank you, not just to her, but you too Amon. This was... a fantastic surprise. I really, really have to thank you for coming.”

“No need, boy.” The demon said carefully as he lifted his drink to his lips and finished the last of it with a worn sigh - the honey-infused whiskey the traditional post-dinner drink but one less common on this side of the pond - before he slowly pushed himself to his feet careful not to disrupt the sleeping hunter even as the dog got to her feet with a wag of her tail. Amon let out a quiet, warning growl as the dog moved to step onto Jo to jump at him and held the pup’s eye until Nana sank back down into a sit. “It was a pleasant evening. Far different than the last few times I had taken such a form up here, at least.”

Grey tilted his head to look up at the other as he set his empty glass down on one of the coasters on the coffee table. “Oh?”

“Definitely. However, I do find this a lot more restrictive so I will be heading off.” “Oh. Yeah, let me walk you out.” “Of course.”

The pair both slowly moved out of the lounge quietly, and Grey was not surprised to see Nana shuffle along quietly behind them as intrigued as she was by seeing the wolfish friend as he was that evening. He gave a gesture towards the stairs towards the dog as they reached the hall, and was pleased to see that with only minimal bouncing and weaving between his and Amon’s legs that Nana headed off to her bed without a fuss.

“Don’t forget to repaint those traps before bed tonight, Grey.” The taller man said quietly as he moved through to the threshold, looking up at the ceiling carefully. “Most was left in tact so it simply requires a touch up on the scratched areas.”

“Thanks, I’ll get to it right away.” Grey nodded as he glanced up and could thankfully see clearly even in the dim lighting the exact spot that needed repainting, before he moved forward to wrap a tight hug around the other for a moment. It was somehow strange to do this when it was a hard, human chest he had his face pressed against rather than thick, black fur, but it was as comforting and felt almost as natural before he pulled back with a smile at the same on the other man’s face. “Thanks again. For... For everything, Amon. I hope you know the importance you have, especially today of all days.”

There was a pause before the other man gave a nod, his eyes veiled but obviously aware of the significance despite the time since. Grey wasn’t sure if it was because he remembered specifically dragging him almost kicking and screaming from under that burnt out wreckage or not, but even if he didn’t - Grey was glad to acknowledge it to the other. That as much as Jo had given him on that day, she hadn’t been the only one nor was she the one that had been there with him the longest in that darkness. She was the sunshine that broke through the rain, but the demon shrugging a shoulder before him had been the rock that he’d clung to to avoid being washed away. At the thought, Grey quickly jerked forward to deliver another, brief but tight hug, before he pulled back.

“Again, thanks.” Grey smiled widely as he got a firm nod from the other, before Amon turned and began to step off the stairs, following the same rules to get away from the house before disappearing as Grey closed the door.

The rug was quick to replace, and as Grey turned about he moved as quickly as possible to replace and protect the house again before he headed back into the loungeroom. Jo was right where he’d left her, slumped up against the armchair and still fast asleep, her hand curled softly around where Nana’s paw had been.

He moved quietly over, and sank down to a knee beside her. “Jo, pretty one, wake up.” Grey gently shook her shoulder, softer than he probably need to to rouse her but enough that she should wake, only to have two hands reach out to grab his shirt instead. He tilted his head but could see her eyes still closed over and with a sigh, he shifted to slide a hand under her legs and his other around her shoulders. It took a moment before he moved to lift her, letting out a shocked breath when her arms went around his neck and he could feel the warm breath on his cheek. “Okay fine, we’ll get you upstairs then, huh?”

“Nuuhgh?” The vague noise came from the other before the hands around his neck held tighter and wound their way into his hair, before Grey gave his own sigh in response. Holding tighter, he slowly made his way out of the lounge, closing the door behind him and glad that Jo’d cleared away the dessert tray earlier in the night that he didn’t have to worry about anything but the lights as he slowly made his way upstairs. “Huungh?”

“Bed time, Jo.” “Uuh?” “Don’t worry, everyone’s already gone home, pretty one. Now its time for bed.”

“Mmmmokay.” Jo groaned the word out quietly, tucking her head against his chest as they got up the stairs and Grey navigated through the bedroom door. This was possibly the most unexpected end to the evening for him, but as he laid the other out on the bed and moved to tuck her in, he was unsurprised to find the two hands holding him tug gently to pull him down too. “Mmnoo.”

“Okay, Jo, but jeans off.” Grey chuckled quietly at her fussing and fighting to keep him near, shifting to kick his jeans down quickly before stripping hers off her legs too before climbing into bed behind her.

Tucking in against her back, Grey found himself tugging Jo back against himself and curling in against her to relax. It had been a long day, but as the other twisted around and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, Grey couldn’t hold back the laugh knowing that the day had been practically perfect for him, and his night was setting up to be just the same watching over until the sunrise and his sunshine would wake up.

---

[smokeinsilence]

#2

1. Driving with the windows down the wind rushing through your hair, ocean roaring at the coast, saltwater smiles and sunburned skin; asking for a kiss that is sweet like cherry popsicles melting on your tongue, like the innocence of the first heart to beat in time to yours; reaching for the sun even though you know you will come back burned, being swallowed by a wave and washed up to shore, gasping smiling, laughing with seaweed tangled in your fingers, reaching for their hand for the first time and blushing like you are five again, but this time you don’t scream cooties and run to wash off your hands but instead wish they will never let go; the sand under your feet as you walk amongst mermaids, swimming in the vast expanse of the ocean at midnight, and feeling safe among the unknown; the feeling of being somewhere you know you shouldn’t be but you want it even if it hurts.

2. Touching fingertips through chainlink fences, bleeding from scraped knees when you both tried to ride a skateboard at the same time, it was bittersweet to pick gravel out of our skin together; the hard part about everything, but the sweetness that comes after, like cracking the top of a creme brûlée with the back of a spoon, breaking everything but somehow making it better when you melt it all back together, a place that isn’t perfect but it’s you; an abandoned merry go round after the sun sets, the lights twinkling under unfettered growth, as it groans slowly turning, hindered by tendrils of ivy; something good that is hidden and broken but you know where to find it, and you know you don’t need to fix it to enjoy it.

3. The secret spot between their ribs and their lungs where the light lays, where you find god and scripture in their veins, the crackling of electricity between fingertips; wanting to let go but being afraid to jump, even though you know you have wings and letting them unfold because when they are outstretched and your feathers intermingle with theirs it tastes like heaven; having everything taste like heaven when you are with them, suddenly even ice-cream is better, and water tastes like honey; painting the ordinary into unordinary with a single touch, a watercolor painting unfolding over canvas, the art of kintusgi, put me back together with gold; the feeling of a cloudless endless blue sky, wanting to build a home in their hands, thinking about the heaven of their chest as you lay in the back of a truck watching the sun unfold it’s golden rays, and ambrosia hues over the light blue horizon; the cold breath of a new morning; the feeling of knowing no matter what it is going to be okay and that everything is beautiful, but nothing more than them.

4. Giving but with boundaries, fences lined between hearts, the fear of being too much or too little; that sinking disappointed feeling in your heart when your dandelion blows away before you can make a wish, getting the smaller piece of cake, dropping your ice-cream after only eating half; being afraid of giving because you aren’t sure what you are getting back; being okay with being picked last because you still get to play, getting a shirt you didn’t want but love anyways, the warmth and sweet gooeyness of underbaked brownies; knowing that some may find you too much or too little but finding the one that knows you are just right; not being afraid of taking a leap but instead of flying through the air getting a mouth full of dirt and laughing anyways; knowing you will get hurt but finding the good in it.

5. Wanting someone so bad it hurts, it burns more than that time you spilled hot coffee on your lap, more than sunburn and scrapes, more than that cut on your lip or that bruise on your thigh, it hurts so much but you can’t put a bandaid on it; going to grab their hand but them turning away, and just barely touching their fingers, smiling but you just get a frown back, opening your heart but being told to close it; wanting to give anything for affection, infatuation, everything you got, just knowing they would like you if they gave you a chance, but you aren’t getting a chance; getting a no back on your love note, getting your valentine returned; crying in a dark bathroom stall wishing you were not alive, calling yourself a fool, but you aren’t a fool because opening your heart isn’t foolish, but brave; giving all the good and getting all the bad, being selfless; the burning pain of unrequited love.

6. To be mortal, with your head in your hands and your heart in your throat.

[goblin-gardens]

@grimark replied to your post “although she is the only one who is currently a literal goblin, i think there’s actually a strong argument to be made about each member of the M9 being actually more Goblin than Nott is”

if you get the time/inclination i would Love to hear about the goblin energy of the rest of the m9

anything for u grim. and anything to tempt you further into the world of Critical Role. i see you liking my “Caduceus Clay is a twink” posts and the good good fjanart i reblog. i see you.

come. stay a while and listen! read my very long and very scientific essay! i will not be disclosing how long this took me, but there are almost 2500 words under the cut.

okay okay okay so the first thing we need to do in this very serious and scientific endeavor is separate Sam Reigel’s MASSIVE Goblin Energy from his character. that man’s Goblid Quotient is OFF THE CHARTS.

when we look at Just Nott (and Veth, which would be a whole nother section but we don’t actually know anything about her??) does she express clear Goblin Traits at a higher rate than the rest of her party? they are generally a pretty gobliny bunch, or they wouldn’t be killing strangers to take their gold, but do they have true Goblin Traits?

Some key elements of Goblinry: 1) Collection Of Crap 2) Chaos 3) Minionhood 4) Gooey Center 5) Laser Pointer Focus 6) Furious Devotion and 7) Hideous Cackling. what’s that? these seven qualities match up with the seven other members of the Mighty Nein, past and present? what a coincidence!!

1) Collection Of Crap, epitomized by: Caleb Widogast. a fairly self explanatory goblin trait. okay so yes, this is a trait Nott has in spades, and is specifically and canonically an aspect of her goblinhood. Caleb, however has chosen to Collect Crap to be a wizard, filling his pockets with spell components including, but by no means limited to, sulfur, molasses, honeycomb, bits of copper wire, and literal bat shit. it’s all just. in his pockets. being slimy. he has also been Collecting the Crap of trauma in his brain for many years, and no fantasy therapist has been around to help him KonMari some of it into healthier boxes. he has also Collected a whole new family to care about, and in many ways, he views that as kinda shitty. (runners up: Jester, with the animals and haversack of holding, Beau, with her constant wanting to know shit, Fjord, with his balls)

2) Chaos, epitomized by: Jester Lavorre. another Goblin trait Nott shares, but Nott hasn’t built a religion out of chaos. she’s not a high priestess of drawing dicks on things. her magic powers don’t some from a divine mandate to fuck shit up. honestly, i feel unconvinced by the assertion that Nott has a Chaotic alignment, while Jester’s CG status is unassailable. pets also up the chaos meter, though this Collection can be attributed to Laura Bailey and this has been taken into consideration. Jester’s childhood in the Lavish Chateau was sort of like a pandora’s jack in the box getting wound tighter and tighter and tighter past all physical comprehension, and though the lid has been lifted, the spring is only just starting to sproing. we haven’t even reached the Zenith yet! (runners up: Molly, with the egg dick incident, and Fjord, with his need to always....... touch..... things......)

3) Minionhood, epitomized by: Fjord “No-Name” Swordvjore. in CR, goblins will work together to target weaker and easy opponents, but aren’t prone to individual heroism and rarely, if ever, go out of their way to save a friend. in their villages, little value is placed on familial relationships or education, they’re not big team players, and everyone has a terrible sense of humor. what do they have in common with Fjord? NOT A WHOLE FUCKING LOT, ACTUALLY. Fjord shows the other side of the coin, like how tactics that don’t rely on using yourself as canon fodder are more successful, or like how the power of friendship and diverse skill sets makes your team stronger. though he is currently examining the negative aspects of his own Minonhood, Fjord has spent much of his life content to be a minion. on a merchant ship, climbing ropes and battening hatches as he was instructed, and now a minion of a mysterious and powerful creature. however, he’s realized this arrangement no longer suits him, and he is looking for other options (like being a paladin??) (runner up: Caduceus Clay, committed WildMinion)

4) Gooey Center, epitomized by: Yasha Nydoorin. the Gooey Center is protected by a spiky, brittle, intimidating, crunchy, and/or off putting exterior.  Yasha is our big, scary, tenderhearted wlw. our giant soft-hearted, angelic, full-of-boiling-murderous-rage, lightning-punching, funeral-not-having runaway who loves her wife and makes us cry. she shaves her arms with her sword. she uses books in non-traditional ways. she vanishes into the night sometimes in a very mysterious and tragic manner. she is our most Romantic player character, and she is super ripped and super queer, which are all aspirational goblin qualities. in practice, most goblins connect with their gooey center by being squished by someone like Yasha, maybe with a giant hammer. (runners up: Caleb, known glass canon with a very crunchy exterior, Beau, puncher of feelings, and Molly, who rudely showed us just how how close that center can be to the surface)

5) Laser Pointer Focus, epitomized by: Caduceus Clay. related to Minionhood, this is the aspect of Goblinry that the leader uses to achieve goals. the dogged focus of a True Goblin is powerful and direct, but can be redirected with the proper pressure or leadership, or lost when a cause or leader is not compelling enough or doesn’t provide adequate payment. the Laser Pointer Focus has an investigatory aspect as well, gathering little bits of info from every which way in moments, though the information gathered is rarely put to use immediately. Caduceus, who sees all but doesn’t always act on it, and is content to support the Nein and follow their meandering path to his goal, checks many of these boxes. (runners up: Fjord, spiritually chasing a laser pointer at all times, Jester, whose laser pointer always points at chaos, and Caleb, a cat)

6) Furious Devotion, epitomized by Beauregard Lionett. also going hand in hand with Minionhood, this is the trait that makes goblins actually willing to die in battle against adventurers and town guards and shit. but it doesn’t require any comfort with or willingness to follow authority, it’s the more feral side of love that is reigned in by Minionhood in true Goblins. this is the part of the Goblin that drive the Collecting of Crap because it genuinely loves all the shit it finds. Beau is a prime example of this trait, especially because as she gets more and more invested in a person or ideal, her willingness to let go, even in the face of likely death, decreases dramatically. see episode 55 for reference, among others. she also has a rather Goblinish inability to effectively communicate the depths of her feelings, though this is sort of an aspect of her defense of her Gooey Center and something she’s actively working on. (runners up: Yasha, very good at using the Fury to pursue the Devotion, and Caleb, even less able to discuss his feelings than Beau)

and finally 7) Hideous Cackling, epitomized by Mollymauk Tealeaf. this is what a Goblin does when surveying their Collection of Crap and the Chaos they have caused. this is how they communicate with fellow Minions in the know, how they react to seeing someone else’s Gooey Center, to catching the Laser Pointer. this is the easiest way to express their feelings of Devotion. the Hideous Cackle of a True Goblin is un-selfconscious and entirely for the benefit of the Cackler. Cackling Hideously is an act of self love. you can find your goblin group by listening to the Discordant Chorus made by Cackling together, and when you’re all reveling in the cacophony, there you are. it’s a little hedonistic and a little punk and a little queer, disregarding conventional expectations of beauty or family or polite behavior, and all about diving deep into the things that you are and the things that make you happy. an extremely Molly philosophy, truth be told. (runner up: Jester, gleeful agent of chaos)

Now lets use a quantifiable rubric to measure these attributes in each member of the M9. these will be X out of 11 because 77 is more of a Goblin Number than 70.

Nott The Brave Collection of Crap-- extremely.  9/11 Chaos-- FLUFFERNUTTERRRRRRRRRR!  8/11 Minionhood-- not really! her love of Caleb is much more protective (of him and his future abilities) than anything else.  3/11 Gooey Center-- ehhh she’s secretive, but her tender spots are other people, not actually her.  5/11 Laser Pointer Focus--  her main goals are all inwardly motivated and have not changed during the campaign.  2/11 Furious Devotion-- her love is extremely powerful.  10/11 Hideous Cackling-- a surprisingly low score due to her great potential for growth in the self-love department.  3/11 total score: 40/77. not a bad score, but not Extremely Goblin!

how does that stack up against every one else?

Caleb Collection of Crap-- keeps everything in his pockets except for his cat, which is in his heart.  11/11 Chaos-- absolutely creates it, but lacks proper conviction and glee.  3/11 Minionhood-- while formerly a Minion, he has developed his own purpose, and is no longer eager to follow authority.  1/11 Gooey Center-- easily smashed by any large or medium-sized hammer, but maintains staunch denial of inner Gooeyness.  8/11 Laser Pointer Focus-- has goal, will travel. difficult to redirect.  5/11 Furious Devotion-- literally willing to break the world for people he loves.  10/11 Hideous Cackling-- this man has not once consensually Cackled in his  whole life.  -4/11 total score: 34/77. Not Especially Goblin!

Yasha Collection of Crap-- does have a whole book of pressed flowers! Collected Molly and then stuck with the Nein out serendipity/stubbornness.  6/11 Chaos-- she doesn’t really revel in it :/.  5/11 Minionhood-- serves a higher power and follows along the decisions of others in the group, even when not super enthused about them, like going to Xhorhas.  8/11 Gooey Center-- all the Gooeyer for being well protected, and though her emotional walls are not the most formidable in the party, the amount of protected feeling was unexpected  11/11 Laser Pointer Focus-- loyal to two guides, the Stormlord and the M9, though the Stormlord can pull her easily away from the group.  9/11 Furious Devotion-- very very angry.  10/11 Hideous Cackling-- could stand to be a bit more open about it.  4/11 Total score: 53/77 Actually Pretty Gobliny!

Fjord Collection of Crap-- collection is limited in scope and volume, but high in Strangeness.  8/11 Chaos-- a troublemaker, for sure and certain.  7/11 Minionhood-- Literally A Minion right now, summons demonic minions on occasion.  11/11 Gooey Center-- he is a twunk and he is mad about it.  6/11 Laser Pointer Focus-- this man cannot resist pushing buttons, be they physical, emotional, or likely to end the word.  9/11 Furious Devotion-- still figuring out where his passions lie, but he cares a lot about his friends.  5/11 Hideous Cackling-- too self conscious! loosen up! needs to Cackle in his own voice.  3/11 total score: 49/77 a respectable Goblin showing.

Beau Collection of Crap-- wants to know everything, is building a family. some points lost for minimalist monk aesthetic.  9/11 Chaos-- aspiring member of Nott the Best Detective Agency, punches people to learn about them.  8/11 Minionhood-- would destroy me for even suggesting it.  -6/11 Gooey Center-- just! wants! everyone! to! get! along!  7/11 Laser Pointer Focus-- has no clearcut Mission To Complete, tries to be a voice of reason.  2/11 Furious Devotion-- JUST! WANTS! EVERYONE! TO! GET! ALONG!  11/11 Hideous Cackling-- doesn’t give a fuck what anybody thinks, but is still learning to give a fuck about what she thinks.  5/11 total score: 36/77 second-least Goblin!

Molly Collection of Crap-- behold the coat. 8/11 Chaos-- he has that certain je ne se quois.  10/11 Minionhood-- the Moonweaver in not a fan of her followers following anyone’s orders. also he has his own minions and doesn’t want them  3/11 Gooey Center-- loves openly and without reservation. and also……………………  8/11 Laser Pointer Focus-- Molly’s focus is loving his friends and knowing fuck all.  5/11 Furious Devotion-- found a tall sad lady and made his circus adopt her. gives money to orphans.  7/11 Hideous Cackling-- genuinely personified this action for two years.  11/11 total score: 52/77 not too shabby!

Jester Collection of Crap-- while most of her random shit has potential uses, it’s also a whole lot of random shit. some of its weasels.  10/11 Chaos-- spreading discord is a religious mandate for her. Her powers come from chaos.  11/11 Minionhood-- has limits in what she will support, but is pretty devoted to her friends! easily swept up in other people’s excitement.  8/11 Gooey Center-- physically well-defended, she has the luxury of wearing her heart on her sleeve. 6/11 Laser Pointer Focus-- it might seem like she’s easily distracted, but that’s actually because her surface level attention is secondary. her primary goal is actually Fucking Shit Up.  7/11 Furious Devotion-- gets attached and does. not. let. go.  10/11 Hideous Cackling-- the end goal of everything Jester does is Cackling With The Traveler, and she often succeeds.  10/11 total score: 62/77 Pretty Fucking Goblin!

Caduceus: Collection of Crap-- dude has a swarm of bugs living in his staff.  8/11 Chaos-- NOT a fan of stuff that disrupts the proper order of nature.  4/11 Minionhood-- of all the M9, the one with the guiding principles most defined by another being. a bit of a zealot, by word of Taliesin.  9/11 Gooey Center-- encourages everyone else to talk about their feelings, yet doesn’t talk about his own in the same way. very fragile. please protect this firbolg.  10/11 Laser Pointer Focus-- has a well-defined goal, but not a well defined path. constantly looking for the answers. 11/11 Hideous Cackling-- Cackling is a more intense action than thinking something is nice, but he’s on the right track. 5/11 total score: 47/77 more than a little Goblin!

final ranking (out of 77) 34, Caleb 🐱 36, Beau 👊 40, Nott 🏹 47, Caduceus 🐞 49, Fjord 🗡️ 52, Molly 🎴 53, Yasha ⚡ 62, Jester 🦄

now, 40/77 is by no means a LOW Goblin Quotient, but this single, not peer reviewed study shows that Nott is not, in fact, the ultimate Goblin of the M9. as a goblin of science myself, i absolutely invite further discussion and welcome any additional research into this matter. who do you think is the most Goblin?

happy goblining, friends! it’s thursday!