#pen pals over 30

[mostlynatur3]

Hey there! I am looking for a penpal or two to write to and talk all things books, movies, theater, travel, camping, taylor swift, skiing, hiking, anime, disney, peloton/biking, pets, podcasts, crafting, crochet, knitting, outlander, Dr. Who, video games, etc etc...

I live out in the country on 5 acres and love being an introvert, but also really like sitting down with a cup of tea and writing to my friends. I'm 32 and live in Washington State. I still mail a lot of my high school friends letters to keep in touch but would love to meet new folks from different background as well.

I speak English, but am trying to learn spanish and irish. I also took Chinese in high school so I could also brush up on those skills as well.

I'd also be willing to send little crafts teas or treats back and forth as well, but mostly writing and stickers and things that fit in an envelope.

:) Have a great day, message me here

[cravingpepsimax]

since he’s beginning to spread, here’s a rough timeline of events for the fujo bill au:

bill is defeated and is put in the theraprism

after who knows how long, bill begins coping with his spite and rage towards stan and ford by doing/making stuff that he thinks they’d hate.

he begins “shipping” stancest. bill doesn’t really GET the incest taboo, it seems pretty much entirely arbitrary to him, but he knows it exists and is something humans are REPULSED by. thus, he starts making stuff involving stan and ford dating each other. theraprism staff thinks it’s odd but him writing books about stan and ford kissing is significantly better than him writing books in an attempt to escape.

over time, bill starts getting actually invested. it may have started as pure spite, but he begins to remember things that, oh boy, sure do seem pretty incestuous, now that he thinks about it. at first, it’s funny — “HAHA, WOW, SIXER REALLY IS A FREAK, ISN’T HE?” — but then it becomes real.

since bill’s calming down and is no longer talking about wanting to murder the entire family 24/7, theraprism staff decides to move onto the next step in bill’s karma program: becoming pen pals with one of the people he used to terrorize. mabel’s a lot like bill, but not evil, so the theraprism staff choose her.

meanwhile, a 13 year old mabel gets a Crazy Paranormal Experience, in which she is told what’s going on. mabel agrees to be bill’s pen pal (he won’t be able to do any actual harm, and, worst-case scenario, it’d be funny to mess with him (note that, even though mabel’s 13, well over a year has passed for bill — time is merely a suggestion for beings as powerful as the theraprism staff)

bill HATES being made to do this stupid pen pal stuff. he can’t use it as a way out — the theraprism staff have been keeping a VERY CLOSE EYE ON HIM ever since the book, and it’s gonna be hard to trick mabel into doing ANYTHING for him. so, his first few letters are him insulting and trying to upset mabel, who doesn’t really seem to care at all.

eventually, in one of bill’s pieces of hate mail, he says some shit like “SIXER AND HIS BROTHER ARE REAL FREAKS, KID! WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY’RE DOING ON THE STAN O’ WAR II? I’LL GIVE YOU A HINT: THE ANSWER’S ‘EACH OTHER’!”

mabel promptly ignores the rest of the letter entirely, and makes a GIANT response excitedly going “oh my gosh, you noticed, too??”, and listing everything romantic she’s ever noticed about them.

bill responds, filling in some gaps here and there, telling her about some incestuous stuff from 30+ years ago, pointing out things she missed, pointing out things he missed (“WOW, THEY DID WHAT? TALK ABOUT NEEDING TO GET A ROOM, YEESH.”)

they become stancest gossip buddies from there. mabel fujopills him in other regards (bill never thought he’d watch a show called “ouran highschool host club”, much less at the request of a 13 year old who thinks the pair of twins kissing would be hot/cute, but hey, afterlife’s full of surprises, ain’t it?) but his main love is and always will be stancest

they eventually become close enough and the theraprism staff trusts them enough to get interdimensional phone call privileges. any time anything happens mabel calls him and goes “oh my gosh, you’ll NEVER guess what just happened!” and they gossip for like an hour

stan and ford are completely clueless as to what’s going on at all. i like to imagine they find out eventually but it takes awhile LMAO

[wildrangers]

This Town is Fake, But You're the Real Thing // Matt Smith

This is based on an anon ask from a few weeks ago requesting a story with Matt and a HOTD costar with an age gap. For context, reader is just shy of 30 to Matt's 41. It ended up being longer than expected but that's not shocking🙂

Tropes & Topics: miscommunication, mutual pining, will they/won't they, age gap, resolved angst, fluffy end

Word Count: 2.8K

You’d been dreading and anticipating this filming day for weeks now. You’d been cast as Alys in Season 2 of House of the Dragon and anxiety has been your primary emotion since you received the news. On the obvious side, the show’s massive and will ideally propel your career forward with dizzying speed after toiling away for a decade on small projects. A less obvious, more personal element of the matter is your equally long crush on Matt Smith. You’d first seen him as Doctor Who when you were a teen and you’d become madly infatuated. You nearly drove yourself mad while waiting for filming to start, trying to get your emotions under control before stepping on set. It helped and hurt that he’s such a lovely person in real life.

Within a week of signing your contract, a beautiful gift basket had arrived at your door. You’d curiously brought it inside and nearly dropped the champagne bottle when you found the note: Cheers to being scene partners soon! Can’t wait, Matt. Your first course of action was to tear into the chocolate covered strawberries and your second was to frantically call your manager to yell at her for hiding this surprise from you. You’d sent back a thank you note, which is how, somehow, you two became pen pals in the months leading up to filming. 

In your letters, you two discussed the show and your ideas for your character’s relationship dynamics all while Matt kindly provided guidance when you shared your anxieties about joining such a well-respected and beloved show. By the time you arrived on set, you felt more settled–Matt would be a professional support and colleague, your childish crush left in the past. After all, you’d had feelings for your teenage self’s idea of who Matt Smith was. This Matt is real, kind, your coworker, and 12 years your senior. 

All of this logic dissipated when you heard his painfully familiar voice calling your name across the set you were exploring before filming began. He quickly approached you, grinning broadly as he pulled you into a warm hug. You, thankfully, recovered your senses swiftly, returning his hug before somehow carrying on a normal conversation with him. Several months into filming now, that first day is a blur but you’d left a good enough first impression that you two became close throughout shooting. 

You clung to your logic, desperately fighting back the crush that was rapidly developing into actual feelings throughout this time. Your chemistry on set was palpable and mercurial but in your trailers or sharing a drink after work, your relationship was filled with laughter, stimulating conversation, and affection. You’d bonded over your love for horror movies, jokingly plotting one to star in together in the future. You respected him, this project, and yourself too much to risk all that you’d built for a relic from your teenagedom.

Or, at least that’s what you repeat in your mind as you pace nervously in your trailer, practicing your lines quietly to yourself. Today’s scene is the last for you two to shoot and it’s by far the most daunting for you mentally. Alys and Daemon have a tense relationship, clearly drawn together despite Daemon’s suspicions and Alys’ blurry intentions. This scene is the culmination of that tension and while nothing physically occurs between them, an emotional vulnerability is needed for it to be satisfying for the viewers. 

You hear a knock on your door as the PA summons you to set. You take a deep, steadying breath before following her onto the lot. Harrenhal’s lot is constantly damp and by the time you’re on the actual set, your dress is clinging uncomfortably to you. 

“There she is! How are you feeling, love?” Matt questions, squeezing your shoulders soothingly. 

“Nervous, you?” you admit and his smile turns downward.

“What’s making you nervous? How can I help?”

“It just feels like a big scene, that’s all.” 

“Darling, we’ve done so many big scenes. What else is going on?” he pushes and you sigh, nervously fidgeting with the ends of your wig. 

“I guess it’s weird this is it, you know? It’s been months of us working together and after today we’re basically done. It’s daunting, I want to make sure the relationship feels right at its conclusion for the season.”

“It will, I promise. You’re brilliant and we’ve worked so hard to cultivate this dynamic–we know exactly what to do together, yeah?”

“But do we?” you question and immediately regret it. His brows furrowed as you kick yourself for letting your confused personal feelings get in the way of the work. “Never mind, I’m just psyching myself out. You’re right, as always.”

Matt opens his mouth to reply but the director calls you to your marks and all you can do is squeeze his hand before going to your spot, closing your eyes and banishing yourself from your mind–you are Alys, he is Daemon, you two are fighting because tensions are coming to a head. 

You two do several takes but something feels off. You’re both hitting your lines and your marks but there’s something missing, which you’re obsessively trying to solve as shooting’s paused for lunch. As you finish up your smorgasbord of snacks, your favorite craft service meal, Matt approaches, his eyes focused on you. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes tunneling into yours with an intensity you’ve never seen from him off camera. 

“Of course” you reply without hesitation and he nods. 

“I’m doing a slight improv, will you follow my lead?” 

“Of course” you repeat, just as the director calls you back to set. 

Your nerves have returned but you’re eager to see Matt’s idea play out–you’ve both improved different moments over the course of filming and they often lead to your best takes. 

The director calls action and your lines repeat as they have all day long. You’re lost in the moment, noting Matt approaching you much more closely than previously. This must be it–he wants more physical tension in the scene and you kick yourself for not thinking of it yourself. Suddenly, Matt’s hands roughly grab your arms pulling your chests flush together. 

Your gasp is real, as is the way your own hands rise to grip his shoulders as he towers over you. Your Alys brain kicks in and you switch to struggling against him, eager to get away from this man who could easily overpower you. 

“Don’t leave” he breathes out quietly, a line not in the script, his eyes earnest and glossy with emotion.

“You know as well as I why I must, no matter what we may…sense in one another” you ad-lib and though it fits Alys’ intentions, your own desires easily bleed through. 

“And what is it you sense in me?” 

“Danger…lust” you sigh, eyes instinctually dropping to his mouth. Your heart’s in your throat, this is the most you two have leaned into the characters’ sexual tension. “And what do you see within me?”

“Temptation…damnation” he replies fervently. You two hold each other’s gaze and you feel your eyes growing misty as are Matt’s before you. He begins to lean in and as much as you desperately want to give in, Alys would never, so you forcefully push your hands into his chest until a few feet separate you. 

Your breathing is labored, your face feels flushed, and you nearly forget the final scripted line that concludes the scene, “I told you you’d die in this castle, Daemon…I refuse to die with you.” 

A single tear escapes Daemon’s eyes and you turn on your heels, head high as you leave the room before the director yells “Cut! Holy shit you two, thank god we had coverage on both of you. That was perfect. I’m going to call Ryan to review the changes but that was brilliant. Hang tight for a few minutes, okay?” 

You nod, dizzy with emotion. You can’t force yourself to look in Matt’s direction, the vulnerability and intensity of the scene making you feel exposed. Instead, you stumble over to craft services asking for a mug of tea to settle your nerves. You take a deep swig and feel some of the tension leave your shoulders but the butterflies in your stomach refuse to follow their lead. You hear someone approaching and know before you hear his deep voice saying your name that it’s Matt. 

“Are you okay? Was that too much?” he questions and you force yourself to turn around.

“I’m fine, it was brilliant.”

“Then why do you look so shaken?” he questions, hands going to rest on your shoulders, as they have countless times over the last few months. You find yourself stepping out of his hold, feeling too raw to stomach being touched right now. Your thoughts are racing and your heart is pounding and being this close to him is too much. 

“It was just intense, that’s all.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” he agrees, his eyes boring into your face despite your refusal to meet his gaze. You simply nod, taking another sip of tea. 

“It felt real” you breath out and immediately regret it. “Sorry, that’s silly, I didn’t mean…” you trail off, unsure how to express all that you’re thinking and feeling right now. 

“I don’t think it’s silly” he replies quietly and you shut your eyes. You have to be imagining things, he can’t possibly be admitting to feeling similarly to you; it’s impossible, for countless reasons. You’re saved from responding by the director calling you back to set and you quickly walk past Matt, mug firmly in your grip as you try to steady yourself to appear professional.

“Ryan loved it guys, that’s a wrap on Daemon and Alys at Harrenhal for season two!” he cheers and the crew bursts into claps and whistles. You force a smile and express your gratitude towards the director and crew before quickly excusing yourself to your trailer, not waiting around to see what Matt has to say to everyone. 

Your team must feel your anxious energy because they get you out of costuming, hair, and makeup in record time. You say your farewells, frantically getting into one of the waiting cars that will whisk you away to your hotel. You regret, on some level, not saying goodbye to Matt but you promise yourself you’ll text him in the morning and meet for breakfast. 

As the elevator rises you text Emma, Hey, crazy day, room service together tonight?

You toss your phone on the bed without waiting for a reply, peeling off your clothes and jumping in the shower. You just need to wash this day away. Once you feel yourself fully reinhabiting your body again, you turn off the water, dry yourself, and do your skincare before changing into sweats. A knock sounds from your door and you feel more tension leaving your body as you go to answer it, assuming you’ll find Emma on the other side. 

Your heart stutters when you’re instead met by Matt’s anxious gaze, his hands feverishly running through his hair. “Matt?” 

“You just left” he replies, voice tight with an emotion you can’t place.

“I…I was tired, I just wanted to unwind” you say, offering this half truth. His intense stare makes you fear you aren’t convincing him. 

“Can I come in, please? Just for a moment. I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong.” 

You nod shallowly, stepping to the side before closing the door behind him. An awkward silence descends and you perch nervously on the foot of your bed. Your phone buzzes beside you and you glance over to see their reply Can’t sorry, I’ve got a night shoot–tomorrow?

“Do you need to get that?” Matt’s voice draws you back to the moment in front of you and you watch as he paces the floor.

“No, Matt, but can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.” 

“I’m sorry, I just…I keep replaying that final take and what you said afterwards and how you disappeared and I can’t help but feel like I’ve crossed a line or upset you.”

“Matt, you heard the director, it was a brilliant move. It worked beautifully, why would that upset me?” 

“Because it felt real” he replies and you freeze at your own words repeated back to you. “But it couldn’t have been, could it? We were both in wigs and calling each other different names.” 

You don’t know what to say so Matt plows ahead, “Not when we’re friends and colleagues and I’m old enough to be your father.”

You're surprised by the snort that erupts from you, “Matt, that’s a little dramatic. You are not old enough to be my father for Christ’s sake.”

“Well I’m certainly too old to be your partner” he replies quietly, finally stopping his pacing with his back to you. “Far too old to kid myself into thinking you’d be interested in me that way.” 

You freeze, your breath stolen from your chest at his words. “Matt?” you question tentatively, rising to place a gentle hand on his shoulder blade but he moves from your touch. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. See? I knew this was stupid and unprofessional and putting you in an uncomfortable position and I value our friendship but still went ahead and blew it up and–”

“Matt” you say firmly and he turns at the stern tone of your voice. His eyes are sad as they meet yours and the slump of his shoulders is so un-Matt-like that it breaks your heart a little. You step forward and place your hand to his cheek, a thrill racing through you as he closes his eyes, nuzzling into your touch. You stay like that for a moment, each of you seemingly nervous to break this fragile moment. Finally, he releases a deep breath and his hands land on your hips as his eyes open again. “This isn’t a good idea.” 

“Why?” he questions, stepping closer until your bodies are flush together.

You raise your other hand, gently moving a strand of hair out of his face, “Because I’m just…me and you’re…you’re you, Matt, and you’ll realize that quickly. You’ll also realize that even though I seem to have my life together, I’m ultimately just shy of 30 and still trying to figure shit out. You’re settled, you know who you are and what you want. I can’t offer you the same in return and that’s unfair.” 

Your admission hangs in the air between you for a long moment, “But you’d want to? If I told you I’m not remotely concerned about anything you just said?” 

“I would but only if you believe me when I tell you I think what you said before is bullshit too.” 

He smiles fondly at you, his calloused thumb rising to skim your cheekbone down to your chin, before raising to faintly trace the shape of your mouth. Your heart’s in your throat as you rise on your toes slightly, offering your parted lips to him in offering. His hand curls into your hair as he painstakingly slowly joins your lips together. 

Your heart settles at the rightness of the kiss, the care with which he handles you. He allows you to lead the way, your mouths learning the feel of each other before you brush your tongue against his mouth which he gladly opens to you. As your tongues twine, you surrender to the moment, fully leaning your weight into him as you pull him as close as humanly possible. He returns your eagerness with his own and you’re pleased at the soft groan that falls from his lips into yours. When you finally pull away, he drops his forehead to yours as you catch your breaths that mingle in the air between you. 

The peaceful moment stretches onward, neither of you wanting to end it. However, your stomach finally does as it rumbles loudly causing Matt to laugh. “I always tell you, just snacking all day is not enough, darling.”

“It’s not snacking, it’s a personalized charcuterie board” you protest, chuckling at this long-standing disagreement. 

“Room service? I can’t bear the thought of not being within two feet of you the rest of the night” he says and you nod, chuckling at his admission. 

“First Omen?” you question and he scoffs, pulling you onto the bed with him as he grabs the remote.

“Absolutely not, we’re watching the original first” he insists and you hum your assent, curling into his side and you’re struck by how natural it feels. “Youth, these days” he sighs, jokingly. 

“You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you Matthew?” 

His only response is to giggle and place a soft kiss to your temple before picking up the phone to order you both a feast.

Matt taglist (message or comment to be added!): @slayraxes-blogs @littlehorrorlover @decaffeinatedparadisepost

Side note: Part Three of my ongoing Matt series is written, I'm just editing and planning what comes next before posting

[yuyan]

To my darling

A/n: Merry Christmas and have a happy new year! I hope you enjoy it @pavo-ocell-me! This was a very fun event that I loved taking part in @2023gisecretsanta

Pairing: Lyney x gn!reader

Tags: Pure fluff! Modern au, implied school/college setting, penpals, pre-established relationship, reader is learning French, where reader lives doesn't have snow, one curse word just one ^^

"Take intermediate French they said. You'll be fine they said," you muttered to no one in particular as you read the Google translation over and over again. "My French teacher is going to kill me."

You rubbed your eyes, peeking out of makeshift pillow your arms made. Standing tall at the front of the class with a booming voice was your French teacher. She held a small, clear glass jar with folded bits of paper inside in one hand while placing a stack of letters on her lectern with her other.

"Speaking with natives is an excellent and necessary way to develop your language skills (unlike this soon to be 30 minute speech) so due to the cancellation of the exchange program for this year and the long dragged on meeting, we have decided to give you all pen pals!" she announced. Her arms held a wide stance, awaiting for something you were unaware of.

Some whispers and small squeals echoed through the lecture hall. Others groaned and put their head on the desk, waiting for celestia, perhaps even an archon to take them. You did neither.

"I wish I could turn back time," you sighed. After contemplating for an hour whether your teacher would ever find out that you used Google translate to write half your letter or not, you started handwriting it on a stack of fancy paper you really shouldn't have been able to afford. "Shell never know. It's not like he can tell her anyways."

As you dragged your pen along the piece of paper, you remembered the speech about how necessary this was, the small piece of paper you pulled out of the bag and the letter that came with it. With a small smile playing on your lips, you signed off and stuck the small paper that read "lyney" just below your name with a paper rainbow rose you made yourself. It had its imperfections but it's similarity to the fresh ones he sent you left you content.

"Oh my god why did he reply so fast?" you asked yourself. Not even 3 days later and you received another letter from lyney. You traced the grooves of the red wax seal made you shiver. He wouldn't ever know you used google translate right? With pursed lips, you opened it. Perfume immediately muddled your senses as you opened up the envelope. Your peers hadn't even sent their first letter, let alone receive their second.

As you skimmed over the letter, you took down some notes like where he's from–which was so uncessary–what he likes to do and some of his contact details. You hummed, giving yourself imaginary pats on the back for reading a whole three sentences before typing the other two paragraphs into Google translate. You really needed to switch classes, desperately.

It was only then you spotted that a sentence in french came out the same in the translation. "You really shouldn't be using Google translate for these letters," written at the very bottom. Well fuck.

"You are friends with your penpal? Well that's lovely (name)," your French teacher clapped with bright sparkles in her eyes. It blinded you for a second and you had to look away before you lost the ability to see forever.

Instagram

(potato_name):lyney sent a reel.

(potato_name):lyney sent a picture.

(potato_name):lyney sent you a mes...

I didn't use Google translate for this one. Are you proud of me? You wrote at the bottom before slipping the letter into its envelope and sealing it with the new wax stamp set you bought recently.

You rushed back home. You winced at the clatter of your laptop in your bag hitting the floor, deciding it was a problem for future you. Ripping open the envelope and skimming through the letter, you read at the very bottom 'I am proud of anything you do, mon Cheri."

A smile broke out onto your lips as you neatly kept it away in a small box your mother got you from Fontaine when you were little. The small box was made of white marble with gold outlining its edges and gathering in a few swirls in the middle where the golden clasp rested.

The Sun shone brightly despite it being the middle of December. Rays of Sunlight squeezed through your closed curtains and you wondered if it was snowing in Fontaine right now. Did Lyney like playing in the snow?

Letters became less and less frequent as your peers lost motivation in writing long drawn out of paragraphs with nothing but small talk. A year and a half had passed yet your teacher held a strong morale despite the head of languages not enforcing this penpals program anymore. Even they must have gotten tired of the back and forth.

A few days until Christmas holidays. Opening your phone, you checked to see if lyney had texted you anything. Nothing...

Your eyes kept glossing over your texts from Friday 11am. Its been a week. Pictures of him and his two siblings who added you back on Instagram. Even Lynette had texted you today, showing some new tea she bought from inazuma last week.

Lynette

My brother has been writing non-stop for the past few days. Are you guys still doing the penpals thing?

You

No, maybe he is writing to someone else?

Your stomach dropped as you reread your message. "Writing to someone else...I need fresh air." You took your phone and wallet and headed out the door.

"Where are you going?" your roomate called out but you were already heading to the lift. You ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face with a sigh. It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter but this is the fifth time you've checked your phone this morning and its been a week with only a read tag.

"I seriously need to ban myself from my phone."

Lynette

Oh...nevermind. I'll ask him then.

Sent Friday 10 : 39am

"The christmas carnival was so much funner this year," your friend said, laughing. Then one hiccup escaped from her mouth. And then another one. Until you and your other friend bursted out laughing. "Not funny!"

"Yeah yeah. I still can't believe (Name) won that plushie from that shooting stall," your other friend said. He tossed another chip in his mouth, after finally calming down from his laughter.

"I'm surprised too. Those games are typically so rigged, I mean did you see the look on the owner's face though?" you said.

Holding up the little classic brown teddy bear, you admired it at all angles. Its red bow had a little bell hanging from the centre, jingling as you walked.

Its silly smile matched yours and then you noticed it. The small teddy's bowtie resembled the one Lyney wore in one of the pictures he sent. And the small envelope the size of your palm that the teddy held was a real one made of paper.

"(Name)? Whats wrong?"

"Nothing! I just realised my parents wanted me back at 10 and well its 11 so I have to go," you said with a bright smile, "Bye!"

"You live in a dorm though?" your friend countered, "(Name)!" But you were already walking out of the festival gates.

Picking out the small envelope, you brushed your thumb over the grooves of the wax seal. The same wax seal that you used for the last letter you sent. Did he really get the same stamp?

A mini rainbow rose fell out. The vibrant colours provided a stark contrast to the humid summer night. One letter. Five words. I love you, Mon cheri.

Your eyes widened and you nearly dropped the letter, fumbling with it for a bit. Taking in the cool nighttime breeze, you looked up only to see the person you hadn't talk to in a week standing only a few metres away from you.

Lyney held a bouquet of vibrant rainbow roses in one hand and the other behind his back.

"How are you..?" You took as step back, your gaze falling to the floor then back up at him again.

"I told you I'm a magician in one of my letters didn't I?" Lyney started, "I would appear anywhere if it was to be with you."

[naamahdarling]

Revelations during tonight's dinner conversation with my dad:

His father was a top secret class engineer at a big aerospace company who worked on the Echo satellite program. He was highly placed enough that several times during the cold war, the infamous "men in black" came and removed him from the house to (presumably) Cheyenne Mountain in case of nuclear strike. They were fine leaving my grandma, uncle, and dad to die, though. 😨

The "men in black" came to talk to my dad's teen brother one day out of the blue and demanded all correspondence from his stamp-collecting Norwegian pen pal with whom he had been trading stamps and boys' magazines. His pen pal was a 58-year-old Russian spy. 😧

My dad was a courier in the Vietnam War with top secret clearance, running communications through active combat zones. I did not know this. He once risked his life to deliver a mislabeled order past a firefight - an utterly trivial order for flags on the base to be flown half-mast that had been labeled top secret. Heads rolled for that. 😬

The park across the street from the house I lived in my whole life and he lives in still was at one time partially a cemetery containing about 30 gravesites. They were supposedly all moved, but you know how it is. You can't be sure they found or bothered to remove everything. This explains why the park was so creepy, why the perfectly ordinary 50s-era ranch house had vibes so septic and haunted even my dad could sense it, and why I felt watched, always, from every window in the house that faced that park. 😱

None of this is touching the time he and his group of coworkers were mistaken for bank robbers and almost killed by small-town cops, the time his twin prop plane lost an engine and almost crashed over the Sea of Japan, the time he caught a several million dollar accounting mistake for his company before it tanked their international branch, or why he is partially responsible for why swipe-to-pay credit card machines were for a short while RADICALLY different, not standardized, and very frustrating to operate (but he saved thousands of regular people from potential fraud).

[corporatefrog]

꒦‧₊ ꒷ HEADCANNONS: Kenny, Kyle, Stan, and Butters saving you as superheroes/villains when you're in danger! ✧.*

✧.* tags: college au, superhero au ✧.* Characters: kenny mccormick, kyle broflovski, stan marsh, butters scotch a/n: another amazing anon request! i always love the suggestions and they lead to such fun scenarios (and ways to zone out during class lol)

masterlist

Kenny/Mysterion: 

Literally the scene from the beginning of Megamind where they’re in the observatory

Except he bursts in and saves you 

You were just trying to get footage of mysterion’s press conference then suddenly you’re tied up in the storage unit- sorry, the LAIR OF CHAOS

(he gets sad when you don’t call it that)

“Ah mysterion! It is I, your greatest foe-”

“I wouldn’t say greatest”

“Professor chaos- wait what?”

“I’m just saying I've literally fought cthulhu. He’s probably the greatest”

“Well, Cthulhu was an eldritch horror ! He doesn't count!”

“Yes he does”

“No he doesn't!”

“Yes he does!”

“No he doesn't-”

“Guys I really got to piss, can we speed this up?”

Mysterion shows up a few minutes later but you don’t get ‘rescued’ for another 30 minutes because him and chaos kept arguing

He walks you home and says he’ll always be there to save you

But you know the same thing is going to happen next week

Kyle/Human Kite

You were at the park with kyle to visit the pet adoption fair being held by the south park animal shelter

But Professor Chaos had other plans. 

Suddenly all of the animals were let out of their pens and were running through the park 

It was the most adorable stampede to ever exist

You turned to tell ky that you guys had to help but he was gone?

The text he sent: “allergic to cats. Sorry.”

BRO WHAT??

You get absolutely DOG PILED

By actual dogs. 

Chaos is evilly laughing while blowing a dog whistle while General Disarray points laser pointers at people’s feet 

You were ready to give into your death by puppy

But you’re pulled out from the dog heap by human kite! 

He flies??? Over to chaos and slaps the dog whistle out of his hands and starts lecturing him

You almost feel bad for the guy

But then again, there are cats running up trees and dogs running into the street so animal safety comes first

You help them take care of the animals 

(and definitely end up adopting a furry friend :) )

Stan/Toolshed

Professor chaos has stuck you in a small cell surrounded by glass with a 2 hour timer ticking down towards an unknown demise

Usually it wouldn’t have been an issue for tool to grab a sledge hammer and take care of it 

But the cell was made of impact proof glass 

That didn’t stop Toolshed from trying to break through the glass for 30 minutes while professor chaos monologues from a tv screen in the corner

“HAHHAA! I bet you’re wondering how I managed to trap-”

WOMP

“You won’t be breaking through that glass anytime-”

WOMP

“H-Hey! Let me at least get through my-”

WOMP

“WELL GOSH DARN IT LET ME DO MY SPEECH FIRST!”

And the only way to unlock it was to complete an escape room and find a key

But professor chaos seems to have forgotten that stan loves complex board games

And what is an escape room if not a complex solo board game? 

“You need to use the cipher from the map to decode the encyclopedia for the safe code!” 

“Oh yeah, I’ll definitely do that. If I were an idiot.”

“Okay now you’re just being mean” 

“It’s obvious that the map cipher is used for the chess board to give you the steps for the dance dance revolution machine!”

“...yeah totally. I definitely knew that’s how it works.”

He has you out in like 5 minutes 

And you make a mental note to never play Settlers of Katan with him. 

Butters/Professor Chaos

The freedom pals kidnapped you to try and get information out of you since you act as tech help for chaos

Well it was really just the coon

“I thought that kidnapping was a villain thing”

“Yeah because when a superhero does it, it’s taking a villain into custody”

“I really don’t see the logic there”

“WELL YOU DONT HAVE TO SO SHUT UP”

“I thought you wanted me to talk?”

“AHHHHH”

Really you were just giving cartman shit for a few hours

Until the basement suddenly fills with smoke!

Professor Chaos threw smoke bombs into a small enclosed basement (not a good idea-)

You both barely manage to get out while coughing through the smoke

But you do it!!

Yippie!! 

Chaos insists on getting you ice cream as an apology for getting wrapped up in everything

“I mean, if I had to deal with that dickwad everyday, I’d want to cause chaos to piss him off too. I only was there for an hour and i never want to see him smile again” 

You just became the coolest person ever to him

[tortoisewithoutashell]

Dancing with Shadows: Chapter 2

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/tortoisewithoutashell/769268842263347200/dancing-with-shadows-chapter-1?source=share

Maître Johnson incessantly tapped his foot against the hardwood floor. Steve wanted to ask him to stop, but he was already so deep in the man's shit list that he didn’t want to set him off.  

“ Steven Harrington, ” he sighed, and the tapping stopped. “ I don't know what I’m going to do with you ,” he had a thick French accent, but it seemed thicker when he was upset. “ You have so much talent but no drive, none! So sad!” Maître Johnson’s hands flew everywhere, emphasizing every word with his gestures. “Steven, you must no longer come to class 30 minutes late, rude to me, rude to the other dancers!”  

Maître Johnson went quiet, his eyebrows furrowed. Steve swore he saw a drop of sweat slide down his forehead; the tension was palpable. Steve gulped; the silence dragged on, and a wave of anxiety washed over him. He couldn’t afford to be kicked out of the academy; he had put so much time and effort into this career, going against to fulfill his dreams! Fuck!  

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I don’t feel as passionate about dance as I once did. I love it, but—” Steve slumped in his seat; he hated being vulnerable, but this was probably the only way to keep his position.  

“Steven, non, you do not have to tell me, this is your issue. I give you one month: find passion, find drive, and you come back and try again?” Steve tilted his head inquisitively; his maître was going to let him take a month-long break? Right before Nutcracker season? He couldn’t believe his ears.  

“Maître Johnson, no—” he started to protest but was interrupted by the older man. “Non, Steven!” He leaned over his desk, grabbed both of Steve’s hands, and looked him dead in the eyes. “You take one month, come back, try again!”

Steve shook his head in agreement, and tears began to stream down his face.

**

Steve sat on his bed, his journal on his lap and his favorite pen in his right hand. How does one get their passion back? Probably not by sitting on their bed or aimlessly staring out of the window at the New York brownstones. He threw his journal across the room and sighed.  

Maybe he could find something online. He turned on his desktop, forgetting that the last website he had visited was findapenpal.com. How incredibly embarrassing, he thought. Could his life get any lower? He should probably delete his profile to salvage any dignity that he had left.  

Just as he moved his cursor to click on the settings tab, he noticed that he had a message in his inbox. It was probably one of those mass messages that the website sent out occasionally, but his curiosity piqued.  

He clicked on the message inbox icon, expecting nothing more than an update about some rule change or a new feature, but to his surprise, it was something entirely different.  

Subject: Hi  

From: WilliamH1999  

Message:  

Your profile stood out to me. I’ve never met a professional ballerina! What’s it like?  

Steve gasped. Somebody was interested in being pen pals with him? He clicked on William’s profile and scrolled to his biography.  

William, 25  

Stereotypical California boy; I love the beach, the sun, and surfing.  

Not much to work with, but Steve smiled to himself. He went back to William’s message and hit reply.

[triptychcryptid]

I know alot of people are doing GF au's with little Stan/Ford and 30 something Stan/Ford, but hear me out: 50's Stan and 30's Ford. Like Stan's just SO happy to see Ford, and hugs him and Ford's like still pissed at him over the science project thing, but hasn't learned to fight yet, so he goes to punch Stan, but Stan basically has him on the ground in seconds and just sits on him. Then he's like "...Jesus Ford, you smell terrible! Don't you ever shower?"

But like...he kindof explains that something terrible happens in the future but knows Bill's here and watching/listening and Ford's ego won't let him listen anyway, so he kindof just crashes at Ford's house while trying to think of a way to dispel the evil triangle without letting Bill know what he knows. And he gets to see first hand how crazy Ford's become and some of the possessions and whatnot, and see how this all affected McGucket too. And how isolated Ford's been.

Meanwhile, 30's Stan ends up with 50's post weirdmageddon Ford and Ford sees him snd just starts sobbing and hugs him and Stan's like "who the hell are you? Some weird uncle mom and dad never told me about? Why the hell ya cryin'?" And Ford's like "No, Stanley, it's me! Ford!"

"Yeah, I'm not an idiot, pal. My TWIN brother is 80 years old? I don't think so."

"80?! I'm 58!" I don't look THAT bad, do I?" And the kids both shake their heads. XD Stan sees the kids and is like "Who are they?"

" They're...Shermie's grandkids...Mason and Mabel." Stan just bursts out laughing.

"SHERMIE. My TWELVE YEAR OLD BROTHER. Now I KNOW you're full of shit!"

And goes to leave, but Ford grabs him "No, wait, please!" And he grabs a pen and paper and writes basically a letter in their secret code that says

"Stanley,

I am so sorry about everything. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you or stick up for you with Mom and Dad. I'm so sorry I didn't contact you or try to find you. I'm so sorry I left you on your own. I'm so sorry I didn't help you. It took me 40 years and a whole mess of shit to make me grow up, but I see now how smart you are. How resilient, resourceful, creative. How much you care. I've missed you all this time, even when we weren't talking because I was too arrogant to forgive you.

I love you, Stanley."

Stan would sit down halfway through it, and that letter would be enough to convince him. He'd just stare at Ford and tears would well up "Ah...somethin' in my eye. We got bugs in here?"

Ford would wholeheartedly offer to let Stan stay until they could get him back home, and while Ford was setting Stan up in his room, he's be like "You can get coffee or whatever's in the fridge whenever you want, if you need anything, my study's just down the hall, that's where I'm sleeping right now. Oh, watch out for Glitter. Mabel's managed to get it EVERYWHERE." He goes to leave "Oh, and DON'T TOUCH MY VHS TAPES! It took me forEVER to find another copy of Into the Night, LadyHawke and Temple of Doom! They were missing when I got back from the portal, and I KNOW it was you, Stanley!" Leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Stan just stands there "...What the fuck?"

[arxxq]

CHAPTER ONE — SILLY NICKNAMES?

The soft glow of dawn filtered through Y/N’s curtains, casting the room in gentle hues of pink and orange. The city outside was still quiet, save for the occasional hum of early commuters. To her own surprise, Y/N found herself awake at this ungodly hour, blinking in disbelief as her phone’s alarm flashed 5:30 AM.

“Ugh, I actually woke up on time,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn’t the type to rise before the sun unless absolutely necessary, but today? Today was different, like the universe had aligned to make sure she had more hours to conquer. Maybe it was the adrenaline from yesterday’s debate, still fresh in her system, or the looming deadlines she had to finish by the end of this day? Who knows?

Dragging herself out of bed, she headed for the bathroom, hoping the warm shower would shake off the remnants of sleep clinging to her like a fog. The water cascaded down her back, a soothing reminder of the calm before the storm—a storm called ‘highschool deadlines.’ the girl groaned in the showers having reminded of the large pile of things she has to do today.

Once dressed and ready, she padded out to the kitchen, where the smell of frying eggs and toast wafted through the air. Her roommates, Izumi and Haruka, were already up, bustling around the kitchen like two chefs preparing for battle.

“Morning, sunshine,” Izumi greeted, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she flipped a pancake in the pan.

“You’re up early, for once,” Haruka chimed in, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “What, did hell freeze over?”

“Ha ha,” Y/N deadpanned, sliding into her usual seat at the kitchen table. “I have deadlines, okay? Thought I’d be productive today.”

She took a chair and shoved toast into her mouth. She reached for her laptop, which had been sitting untouched since last night, and flipped it open. The bright screen illuminated her face as she took a bite of toast, scrolling through the various tabs she had left open. There were assignments she needed to finish, readings to catch up on, and… an email notification. Her heart did a small leap as her eyes caught the subject line.

From: Anonymous.

Her mysterious pen pal had replied.

They've been talking once in a while, it's mostly just Y/n talking about her day since of course her mysterious pen pal had already told her they weren't amazing with words.

Y/N’s lips curled into a smile, her curiosity piqued. She hadn’t expected to hear back so soon, but here it was. The email she had been half-expecting, half-forgetting about amidst the chaos of her life.

She clicked on the message, her fingers lightly tapping the keyboard as she read:

---

Hey,

Sorry for the late response. I’ve been swamped lately with practice and classes. I hope you’ve been well.

I still liked the idea of keeping things a little mysterious between us. Makes it more interesting, don’t you think? Not that I haven't mentioned this multiple times but now...

Y/N snorted softly, amused by his dry tone. He—or whoever this was—seemed to have a similar sense of humor to her. She liked that. Leaning back in her chair, she pondered her reply, her fingers hovering over the keys before she began typing.

Hey there!

No worries about the late reply—I get it. Life’s been chaotic on my end too.

Also, since we’re keeping things interesting, how about we drop the whole ‘pen pal’ or ‘anonymous’ thing? It feels kind of... detached, you know?

I had this embarrassing childhood nickname, “Honey.” Long story short, I used to smear honey all over myself as a kid—don’t ask. It stuck. Why don’t we use nicknames instead? Could be fun!

Looking forward to hearing your story,

— Honey (I can't believe I'm actually owning up to it HELP)

Y/N smirked as she hit send, the adrenaline of the moment leaving a lingering excitement. Of course, she didn’t expect an immediate reply; whoever this was seemed just as busy as she was. Still, the conversation was a nice escape from the usual university grind.

“Was that your mystery email person again?” Izumi asked, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of Y/N.

Y/N glanced up with a raised brow. “Yep. I think I suggested the nickname thing just to see what he comes up with.”

Haruka, who had been sipping her coffee quietly, chuckled. “Watch him come back with something worse than ‘Honey.’”

“Can’t be worse than yours,” Y/N shot back, making the girls laugh.

As they chatted, Y/N noticed the time ticking by faster than she expected. She glanced at her laptop again, realizing she had spent way too much time enjoying breakfast and procrastinating on her assignments.

“Crap!” she exclaimed, bolting upright from the table. “I’m gonna be late for class!”

Izumi smirked, unimpressed by the sudden rush. “Told you not to get distracted.”

With her backpack hastily thrown over her shoulder and one last gulp of coffee, Y/N was out the door, racing against time. As she hurried down the bustling campus paths, she couldn’t shake the feeling that today held more than just deadlines. There was something about her anonymous pen pal’s email that lingered in her thoughts, like a thread connecting them in ways she couldn’t yet understand.

But for now, she had to focus on getting to class. Everything else could wait.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

Meanwhile, Rin's POV:

Rin sat on the sidelines of the soccer field, a towel draped over his shoulders as he watched his teammates run drills. His mind, however, wasn’t entirely on the game for once. His phone buzzed in his bag, reminding him of the email he had sent last night. He had taken a chance responding to his pen pal, though he had kept his message brief and to the point.

With a quick glance to make sure no one was paying attention, Rin pulled out his phone, checking for any replies. When he saw her message—Honey?—a faint, amused smile tugged at his lips.

Honey, huh? he thought, rolling the word over in his mind like a soccer ball at his feet. I wonder what kind of person smears honey on themselves as a kid.

His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, contemplating a response, but the weight of practice still lingered. Sliding his phone back into his bag, Rin let out a quiet sigh and shifted his focus back to the field. His body was present, but his mind still wandered, the image of this mysterious “Honey” now stuck like a sticky note in the back of his thoughts.

Who even calls themselves that?

“Yo, Itoshi!” a voice broke through his daze, pulling him back to reality. Rin blinked, looking up just in time to see Bachira waving his arms wildly, his grin as infectious as ever. “You zoning out or what? Come on, we’ve still got drills!”

Rin frowned, his focus snapping back like a rubber band. He hadn’t even noticed that the drills had moved forward without him. A few of the other guys—Isagi, Chigiri, and Reo—were glancing in his direction too, clearly picking up on his distraction.

“Get your head out of the clouds, Rin!” Chigiri called, tossing a ball in his direction. “We don’t have all day.”

Rin caught the ball with ease, his fingers curling tightly around it as a subtle flush crept onto his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered, shaking off the lingering thoughts about the email. His focus narrowed as he stood up, tossing the towel aside and joining the rest of the group.

But even as he moved into the next drill, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to Honey. The distraction was fleeting, but it was there, simmering just beneath the surface, like a puzzle piece he couldn’t quite fit into place yet.

13:15:

It's afternoon now, Y/n was currently in Mrs Rei's class, History class. History wasn't bad it's just that she hated how the next class she has to go to next was calculus with the most annoying and boring Professor ever. By boring, she meant he was strict asf and she had no clue exactly why he had a stick up his ass. Sighing softly the girl pulled up her phone from her pockets when she felt vibration from it. No doubt it was Nagi being so lost as usual.

'well that certainly helped!" The girl tried to cheer herself up. It didn't. She knew who Rin was but not that much. He was intriguing but cold and harsh hence why Y/n tries not to approach him to get on his bad side. All Y/n knew about him was that he was part of the soccer team and the Blue Lock program, people fawn over him and that he was this so called prodigy that Isagi and almost everyone in Blue lock probably wanted to beat.

As the morning dragged on, Y/N focused on her assignments and the lectures, occasionally glancing at the clock. The bell rang, and she gathered her things, heading to her locker where her roommates, Izumi and Haruka, were waiting.

“Did you see Nagi’s last goal? It was like he was dancing on air,” Izumi said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Yeah, and Bachira was practically bouncing off the walls after it,” Haruka added, leaning against the lockers. “It’s a good thing they’re all on the same team—Blue Lock is really making them shine!”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she unlocked her locker. “They’re just having fun out there. I wouldn’t call it dancing. It’s more like… organized chaos.”

“Organized chaos?” Izumi echoed, laughing. “You mean like how you navigate your life?”

“Exactly!” Y/N replied with a grin, tossing her textbooks into her bag. “Chaos but somehow still getting things done. That’s the dream.”

The girls continued chatting about their friends on the soccer team, and Y/N found herself rolling her eyes at their playful admiration. “Honestly, it’s like you two have a crush on every guy in the program,” she teased.

“Can you blame us?” Haruka shot back. “Have you seen how cute they are? Especially Chigiri and Isagi! And then there’s that Itoshi Rin guy—they say he’s basically a god on the field.”

At the mention of Rin, Y/N fell silent, trying to hide her disinterest. She had heard plenty about him—how he was a prodigy, a genius with a reputation for being cold and unapproachable. Still, she felt a twinge of curiosity. “He’s just another player,” she said dismissively, trying to keep her tone casual.

“Just another player?” Izumi said, raising an eyebrow. “Have you seen his highlights? He’s unreal!”

Y/N shrugged, closing her locker with a firm click. “Yeah, but I’m not here to fangirl. They’re all like brothers to me.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to appreciate the talent,” Haruka added, nudging her playfully.

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and light. “I appreciate them for their skills, but it’s different when you’re friends. They’re just a bunch of goofballs to me.”

As they talked, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful for her friends. They were a solid crew, supportive and endlessly entertaining. However, as the bell rang again, the lightheartedness of the conversation faded into the background as they made their way to class.

The day passed in a whirl of lectures, notes, and the occasional side-eye at her phone. Every time she checked it, she reminded herself that the world outside was alive with soccer, but her friends were busy grinding on the field for Blue Lock. Her thoughts drifted, and she caught herself wondering about her pen pal again. Did he play soccer? What would he think of her suggestion? Would he laugh, or roll his eyes? She was both excited and nervous about his response.

As she headed toward her next class, her mind was interrupted by a familiar voice calling her name. It was one of the teachers, and her heart sank slightly as she approached.

“Y/N! The principal wants to see you in his office,” the teacher said, a serious look on her face.

“Me? Why?” Y/N replied, confusion washing over her.

“Not sure. But it sounded important. You should head there now.”

“Great,” Y/N muttered under her breath, her mind racing with possibilities. What could the principal want with her? As she walked toward the office, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something unexpected.

Just as she reached the principal’s office, she took a deep breath. Whatever was waiting for her behind that door, she would face it head-on, just like she tackled every other challenge in her life. Little did she know, the principal had a proposal that would link her closer to the Blue Lock program—and perhaps lead her down a path she never expected.

→ really sorry for the short chapter, I've been busy since I just finished exams and my national debate competition

→ extra info: your author does not have a schedule to post this. I'm very busy with my life off screen which makes it difficult for me to make one. I'll only post when I have time

→ about y/n she sort of sound like an oc, I get it but that's a guide for her backstory that I have for her to add conflict in future chapters. Not much to complain about this tbh but if you are you know you're just one click away to just not read it right? you didn't need to waste your energy complaining 😭 plus I did it as y/n because it's to make people imagine easily. Don't know if this makes sense

→taglist: @mizyu98 @imraespace @bestboileeknow

→comment or message if interested to be in taglist

→ TWO/PROLOGUE/BACK TO NAVIGATION/ABOUT Y/N

[crazyfoxfur16]

In Love with a Criminal

I found this story on Twitter and had to share. Credit goes to @black_targloyal on twitter. 

#Lucemond modern au where Aemond is in jail for murder and Luke, at his cousin’s insistence, enters a penitentiary pen pal program. Serial killer Aemond finds himself desperately wanting the sweet boy who writes to him every week to the point that letters are no longer enough.

Luke was just helping Rhaena with her new college project. He was definitely not charmed by that dangerous man (or at least, that’s what he tells himself).

Until the news began to announce Aemond Targaryen’s escape from Oldtown’s maximum security prison.

Luke is fucked.

No, take that back. Lucerys Velaryon is dead.

He knew the moment Rhaena came to him with those puppy eyes and a pamphlet in hand, that nothing that came after would be good. But damn, who would have thought it would be this bad?

His heart echoes in his ears as the voice of the morning news anchor continues to announce the disaster right in front of his eyes.

“Aemond Targaryen is a convict with over 30 kills to his name and an unprecedented escape record,”

“Authorities managed to catch him early last year, after the perpetrator was found breaking into the Kingsland’s mental hospital, where sources say his mother is held...” 

Luke tries not to remember all the paragraphs where Aemond talks about his mother and how much he misses her.

He tries to bury the wave of pity he felt when he read all the stories of Aemond’s not-so-happy childhood that came with tear stains on the pages.

“Targaryen managed to escape from the maximum security area of the Oldtown prison in the early hours of yesterday,”

“His escape was followed by the death of most of the jailers and even an inmate who shared the same area.” The reporter remains unmoved by Lucerys’ internal conflict, “The few belongings in his cell were left mostly intact, according to the police.”

“The only objects taken were a packet of letters and a book to which the fugitive had a great emotional attachment to.” 

Yep, that’s it, Lucerys is dead.

The letters he’d sent, the book he’d given him for his birthday after Aemond had complained about how much he missed reading. If that wasn’t a sign of imminent death, Luke didn’t know what was.

What if Luke had offended him? What if he had said something wrong? They’d been writing to each other for six months, how much shit could Luke have said without realizing it? What if the photo he sent in his letter was the last string of Aemond’s patience?

His head kept spinning as Luke paced nervously up and down his living room. He kept turning in his mind over each letter he had sent, trying to find his sin. Maybe it was that time he wrote about how handsome Aemond looked in his mug shot?

When suddenly three strong knocks echoed in his small apartment, almost knocking a small painting from the wall. Someone was at the door.

If you asked anyone about Lucerys you would get the same answer: Luke was always a good boy. Kind, studious, he was never much for parties or any trouble. His reputation was as clean as could be, so it must have come as a shock to his neighbors to see the police on his doorstep.

Apparently they were looking for any sign of Aemond everywhere that he had ties. As Luke had been exchanging letters and gifts with him for six months and his letters and book were the only things Aemond took. He was one of the first to be interrogated.

His house was also searched from top to bottom, but of course they found nothing. Yet they seemed reluctant to leave. Luke was ready to give them anything as long as they would go away, until the investigator asked for the letters Aemond had sent him.

Even though Luke was 87% sure Aemond was coming for his head, those letters were his. In them, just as Luke had put in his own missives, Aemond put his heart. And then he decided to bestow on Lucerys. 

Each tear stain, each small doodle and origami made of candy wrappers, even the declarations and impossible promises. Every secret and confession, laughter and pain, all of it was just for him. Aemond wrote only for him. Nobody else.

So he lied. He looked into the investigator’s ugly, bearded face and lied with a sweet smile and innocent eyes.

“I don’t keep them, sir,” His lie sound so genuine he could feel how proud Daemon would be if he saw him at that moment, “I burn them that moment they arrive. Why would I keep a murderer’s letters?”

The officer didn’t even dream to doubt his word, they’d already searched the house and there is not a single sheet of paper in Aemond’s pretty handwriting in sight. It was easy to convince him that they all turned to ashes.

But then again, he would have failed his stepfather if he hadn’t known how to hide a couple of incriminating evidence from the police. What can he say? Being Velaryon or Strong never changed the fact that after all he was also a Targaryen.

Aemond would never feel anything better than the euphoria and satisfaction of killing his own father, but he had to admit that watching Lucerys sleep is really fucking close. 

His pretty, round face completely relaxed and soft was a sight he couldn’t see himself getting tired of any time soon.

And by the photo he received, Luke’s awake, smiling face wouldn’t be something he’d take his eye off either. And that face, awake or not, was why he escaped.

It still feels a little unreal to be there. Kneeling on the floor of Lucerys’s room, in the low glow of his little night light, gazing at such perfection. He dreamed, of course, of the day he could finally see firsthand. 

He spent nights thinking about touching that rosy skin of his cheeks, hearing the soft breathing of his lungs, feeling the strong beat of his heart. And now he was there. With his sweet boy just a touch away.

Slowly, avoiding any unwanted noise, he takes of his latex gloves. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to have the whole experience.

His hands are calloused, of course, after so much time washing toilets in that prison hell they couldn’t be any other way.

Mentally he apologized to Lucerys for the harsh touch, but if he holds back a second longer, Aemond might as well explode. As gently as possible he reached out for the long awaited contact. Aemond was slightly shivering, but it all made sense when his fingertips found the silky skin. His world made sense there. 

He felt grounded, like he hadn’t in a long time. As if that single contact was the only thing holding him back in the real world. The letters did a good job for a while. Reading every clumsy word and energetic thought of Lucerys while imagining him sitting in his room writing words only he could read was wonderful. But not enough.

Now he was there with the boy at his fingertips, feeling his warmth, hearing his breath and it was heaven. But it still wasn’t enough. He wanted everything. Everything Lucerys had and more. Every hour of every day from morning to dawn. He wanted from his kind eyes to his red lips, from his velvety skin to his sweet taste. From his head to his toes. And only the gods above knew what he would do to get it.

For the first time since get into college, it wasn’t the unwanted sun hitting his face that woke Lucerys in the morning, but someone making breakfast in the kitchen. The clatter of pots and the smell of coffee brought back memories. He remembers waking up to his father Laenor frying eggs and singing the most generic song with the radio. It was good. 

In a persistent drowsy bliss, he turned over and snuggled deeper into the pillow. His bed smelled of burnt wood and cinnamon, it was divine. What else could he ask for? He was warm and comfortable, his bed smells like heaven and someone is making his coffee! A second passes before he realizes it.

Startled, Lucerys sits up in bed at the speed of light. Wide-eyed and frantic as all the sleep rushes out of his body in one fell swoop. His turbulent mind lists all the errors it can find.

First: He doesn’t remember going to sleep, his last memory is being on the porch ready to call his mother. So how did he end up in bed?

Second, his hands grip the sheets, no one in Lucerys’s life smells like burnt wood and cinnamon. How did that smell get on his pillow?

Third, and most important, Lucerys lives alone. His family lives 12 hours away, Rhaena is on an internship in another city and none of his colleagues have a key. Who was making coffee?

Trying not to make a sound, Lucerys got out of the bed with light steps. Only then did he remember to check on himself. He was wearing only a giant green T-shirt and boxers, barefoot and smelling that unfamiliar perfume. Fucking suspicious considering the last thing he remembers wearing were jeans and sweaters, and that he didn’t have a single green piece of clothing in his wardrobe.

Putting that information to the back of his mind, Lucerys returned to his quest. The house was small and compact, it didn’t take more than a few steps to reach the small kitchen. He crept into the doorway waiting for anything. And for a moment he thought he was still asleep. 

It was a guy. A very hot guy with long hair and no shirt, was in his kitchen making pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, Lucerys’s favorites. 

Was it abstinence? Okay, it’s been a while since he’s had anything but his own hand and the bottom drawer of his nightstand, but getting to the point of hallucination? The vision looked so much like something straight out of one of his teenage wet dreams, that he pinched himself just to confirm. 

The small pain in his arm confirmed it: it wasn’t a dream. And now he had good news and bad news for himself. The bad news is that he had an unknown intruder in his kitchen. The good news was that the invader is a Greek god with blonde hair and very pleasant back muscles. 

Aemond stood as still as he could when he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. Lucerys was clearly doing his best to be unnoticed. A mocking smile formed on his lips at the feeble attempt. His little boy has so much to learn. 

Aemond flipped another pancake and headed for the counter where the coffee machine had finished. His lips shaped around a happy whistle waiting for Lucerys to snap out of his poor investigative skills and speak up.  

When five, ten, fifteen minutes had passed and nothing had happened, Aemond decided he would have to take the course of their first meeting into his own hands. “Maple syrup or whipped cream?” His voice was soft, as if he were talking to a small, frightened kitten. With his back still turned, he tried to make his posture as open and inoffensive as possible. But even with his best efforts his words were still met with a reaction of alarm.

Luke’s little feet skid across the uncarpeted floor and his body made a loud bang as it hit the wall. Worried, he turned around to check that everything was okay and end up drowned into puddle of caramel.

Those bright, living eyes looking at him made a shiver go up his spine. It was as if every new part of that wonderful boy he discovered gave him another reason to live. He needed to see those eyes every morning to be human once more.

“Aemond...?” Lucerys’s cautious, trembling voice, instead of pulling him out of the whirlpool his beautiful had eyes sent him into, only caused a bigger fall into an even greater abyss. His voice. Gods, his voice was, for lack of a better word, perfect. That silky, childlike tone, as if an angel had come down to earth to whisper in his ears. He didn’t see himself saying no to that voice, he didn’t even see himself denying those eyes. He was trapped, bewitched, an eternal captive to his nephew’s charms.

“Yes, Lucerys” He forced himself to answer, when he saw that his silence was  making the poor thing uncomfortable “If you prefer something else on your pancakes, I can try to find some chocolate sauce...”

Aemond turned to the counter again, trying to give Lucerys some room to compose himself. He couldn’t do anything crazy like run away or call the police, Aemond made sure of that. A part of him was expecting that once the stupor of seeing a convicted murderer in his kitchen wore off, Lucerys would start screaming from the rooftops. He had contingency plans for that, of course, but things would get a lot more complicated.

Discreetly, Aemond reached for the sedative he had prepared in advance. If the gentle facade didn’t work, he could go for the tougher approach and beg for forgiveness once Lucerys could rebel no longer. 

“Your hair..!” Aemond couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his mouth. “My hair?” “It’s long!” Not holding back any longer, he turned around and leaned against the counter to face his boy again. “Ah yes, in the only photo that was available to you it was still quite short” Aemond raised his hand to his face to hide his playful smile “A photo that, as I recall, according to you I was “hot as fuck:

It was with satisfaction that he watched that lovely face turn as red as an apple. Aemond should be trying to be gentle and inviting, but with that reaction he couldn’t help but tease a little more. Leaving the counter, he approached the boy with a slow pace. Smile increasing with each step to see Lucerys melting more and more against the wall. “I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

When he was close enough to feel Lucerys’s uneven breaths he stopped to lean a hand against the wall. “Tell me, did I do the picture justice?”

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I was looking for a fic that was like the "Leave the Light On" fanfic maybe?

I got so invested in the plot and the slowburn but I didn't check It wasn't finished and now I can't find something like It.

I love the idea that they already know each other in real life but don't know that they're almost dating in the phone/internet world, so something like It could work too.

Thank you so much for your hard work with this page, I love It 💜

Hello! There are quite a few fics like this, mostly AUs of She Loves Me and You've Got Mail. Here are the ones I found...

Will Wonders Ever Cease by sielu (G)

Aziraphale Fell, a parfumarie clerk, is in love.

She knows what her beloved likes, the way her beloved thinks and is absolutely sure they are perfect for each other, she hasn't just met them yet. They've been penpals, writing each others constantly, for over 8 months and tonight they will finally meet.

She just hopes whoever her Dear Friend is, they have a better attitude than the parfumarie's supervisor, Miss A. J. Crowley.

(She Loves Me AU. I just coulndn't not write it).

A superstore and the end of civilization as you know it by IntoTheMiddleDistance (T)

The Arrangement never happened, Aziraphale and Crowley went their separate ways. Aziraphale owns his bookshop in London and it doesn’t really matter that he never has any customers – until the big chain shop Eden Books moves in down the street, bringing Aziraphale’s old foe Crowley with it as manager. Crowley and Aziraphale clash face-to-face, but neither of them realizes they’ve been pen pals for the last 30 years – until Crowley puts it together and is faced with an important decision.

Also Gabriel is there occasionally to bother Aziraphale, and Beelzebub sometimes checks in on Crowley.

The You’ve Got Mail AU no one asked for.

i was so tempted (i wouldn't dare) by rubyknowbys (T)

It’s a message delivered to the wrong number that brought Antonia J. Crowley and Aziraphale Fell together and, even in anonymity, a friendship inevitably made something deeper flourish amongst shared texts. Antonia started working at Medium’s Bookshop, they finally scheduled a date, and Aziraphale was thrilled to know that she’s going to meet the owner of the irresistible words, which made her fall in love so quickly. But the bookshop supervisor didn’t imagine that their new employee, who she detested even more each day, is the same woman who has been sending her those anonymous darling messages all along.

And when she found out, the information created a new dilemma inside her mind, while her most powerful impulse became to try to win Antonia’s heart smoothly: should Aziraphale tell her?

Dim the Lights and Sing You Songs by Polaris (E)

A few months prior to leaving the Dowling household, Crowley had downloaded Grindr for the sole purpose of catfishing randy morons. He was not expecting a paragraph that began with: ‘hello. I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but I couldn’t help but notice you have the most lovely nipples.’

Crowley keeps trying to meet his Grindr fuckbuddy. Aziraphale keeps showing up at all his meeting spots. This is terrible.

He Loves Me by EveningStarcatcher (T)

Anton Crowley and Azarel Fell don't get along at work, but little do they know they've been falling in love through anonymous Lonely Hearts letters...

Loosely based on the musical She Loves Me

Phoning It In by wife27 (E)

Aziraphale enjoyed her day job immensely. Tadfield University was a small, but respectable school. Imparting a love of literature on her undergraduates was extremely rewarding, as was her restoration work that the university sponsored. That being said, she found her night job much more interesting.

- 

Aziraphale is an English professor by day and a sex line operator by night. While at the university, she has to contend with the insufferable Professor Crowley. At night, she enjoys the company of her clients, like the kind and exceeding romantic Toni. Maybe someday she’ll be able to meet her mystery woman in person.

The Grindr Logo Doesn't Even Have a 'G' In It by indieninja92 (E)

After the Apocalypse, Aziraphale ventures into a new space in the gay milieu - Grindr. There he starts talking to a charming young man who certainly doesn't bear any resemblance at all to a certain long streak of demon, not one bit, no thank you.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley navigate their friendship after the world failed to end. There is much drinking and silliness, but could it be that there are other feelings lurking underneath?? Of course there are, this is fanfic.

And the likely abandoned WIP you mentioned...

Leave the Light On by killerqueer & VentureTrain (E) (WIP)

The You've Got Mail But With Phone Sex AU that nobody asked for.

Azra's life is turned upside down when his partner of two years breaks up with him, seemingly out of nowhere, and kicks him out of their shared flat. Well, Gabriel's flat. Left to start over on his own, he ends up living above the bookshop and below his incredibly rude landlord, who seems to insist on having incredibly loud intercourse at all times of day.

Meanwhile, in a moment of loneliness, he finds himself doing something he has never considered, and calls a phone sex line. Oh, and he might just be falling in love with the operator.

- Mod D

[genericpuff]

Alright, update on the tablet situation, I do NOT have good news but there are some silver linings.

First off, thank you all so much for your patience. That one week I took off to relax seemed to be an invitation for the universe to fuck with my shit because my tablet literally chose the worst time to get on my nerves ( This is totally not something I'm gonna bring up with my therapist as proof that I'm not allowed to rest /s) I've tried just about everything to get it working again, I got a replacement 3-in-1 cable and even that didn't do anything, so I've ordered in a new pen, but that's not due to show up for another week or two.

However, I do not want to wait a week or two on the off chance that a new pen even solves the problem.

So the GOOD NEWS in all this is that I do still have my iPad. It wasn't setup with Clip Studio Paint because I own a perpetual license for my PC, but seeing as how now I can't use it on my PC (at least not with my tablet pen) I've gone ahead and setup the mobile version on my tablet, thankfully I got a discount because I already own a perpetual license but it's still gonna cost me $10/month so that's yet another subscription to slap on the 'ole credit card.

Now that does mean I have to go through the painstaking efforts of moving everything from my PC onto my tablet, but thankfully that issue is easily solved with cloud backups and transferring. Really all I need to be able to do is draw, I can still do speech bubbles and text input and texture overlays and all that post-production stuff on my PC, but anything that requires actual drawing I'm gonna be using my iPad for. So please, don't mind if you notice some weird little art differences between Episode 30 and 29, I'm adjusting to a new workflow! It shouldn't be too bad because I'll still be using the exact same brushes and textures and all that fun stuff that I do on my PC, it just comes with the adjustment of drawing primarily on iPad, which I don't normally do (I usually only draw on my iPad for tattooing and that's in Procreate which I still suck at using outside of lineart LMAO)

This is a very stressful situation that I'm hoping will only be temporary until I get that new tablet pen, and if THAT doesn't solve the issue, then I'm gonna have to start shopping for a new tablet entirely, and that's not something I can do immediately because I'm already starting to struggle financially due to the slow season creeping in at work and I'm still paying off that new PC I put down on layaway (which I'm regretting already). All that said, if you want to help a pal out, please consider tossing a dollar or two at me on my Ko-Fi, it's all gonna go towards a new drawing tablet if I need it (and if the pen solves the issue, then you'll be helping me stay afloat so I can keep bringing you guys the good shit LOL)

What's wild is that in all my Google searching, I found a thread from two months ago with literally the EXACT same issue, under the exact same conditions, in which OP's tablet pen unexpectedly stopped registering with their Huion Kamvas 22 Plus that they had owned for two years. According to them, it did start working again, after resetting the PC and re-installing the driver over and over again, but I've already done that myself a ton of times and I'm tired of being let down and that doesn't seem like a "real" solution beyond luck, so I'm gonna take a break from doing that while I get my iPad set up. I have the sneaking suspicion this might have to do with some recent Windows updates that just rolled out, my PC had definitely gone through a couple leading up to the malfunction. This wouldn't be the first time Microsoft has fucked with my tablet functionality so I literally wouldn't be surprised if it was something like that. Either that, or the '2' in Kamvas 22 stands for "will only last for 2 years before stopping entirely" LOL

Anyways, that's all for now. Thank you all so much for your patience and understanding through all this. While I don't want to have to reduce the quality or frequency of what I put out for you guys due to technical issues, I also don't want the comic to stop entirely, so if this turns into one of those desperate situations where I'm delivering you guys episodes of Rekindled drawn on a Nintendo DS, so be it. I'm not gonna let this beat me.

[djangodurango]

for the WIP ask game... The Future Is Still Silver and Black? (original train fiction from you two sounds really interesting!)

So last year, I went up north to visit Ray. Ray lives in Chicago, which just so happens to have the largest railway museum in the United States, the Illinois Railway Museum.

At the IRM, we saw the Nebraska Zephyr, which is a streamlined stainless steel articulated trainset. Each of the cars in this train are named after Greek/Roman goddesses. Venus, Vesta, Minerva, Ceres, and Juno. It's really quite striking. And the train is pulled by an EMD E5 (the only surviving E5 in fact) named Silver Pilot.

The next day we went to the Museum of Science and Industry. There we saw the Pioneer Zephyr, the first of the Burlington Zephyrs.

So after we get out of the MSI, we're sitting in the Metra station, waiting for the train, and we're doing Independent Research on our phones. Because the concept of the Nebraska Zephyr is great, right? Five beautiful cars all named after goddesses. And that is when we learn that Silver Pilot did not originally belong to this train.

"Those aren't even his bitches," Ray said to me.

So over the next few months, we did more Independent Research. And every new piece of information we found about Silver Pilot just made his story even better. The whole thing is fuckin' wild and we had to DIG to find almost all of it. It's insane because the engine has this amazing story - a story that Ray often points out would sound contrived if it wasn't true - and apparently no one has cared until a pair of fucking cunt dorks went to the train museum.

Comparatively, the Pioneer Zephyr was easy to find more about. Its history is extremely well-documented and lots of people in the past have been fucking cunt dorks about that train. The thing about the Pioneer Zephyr though is that it was made in the early 30's, right? And Burlington promoted this train in a way almost... vaudevillian. It broke the land speed rail record on its way to its debut at the 1934 World's Fair (outdoing its competitor from the Union Pacific, M-10000 only a couple months after it broke the record), it went on an exhibition tour, there were commemorative letter covers given for its service milestones, there was a ride-on children's toy made of it, it starred in a movie!

So me and Ray were now thoroughly enthralled by these two separate but related trains and how different their service lives were - and continue to be - when we get an idea.

We'd considered the idea of trains writing letters to each other before, but it's a little human for them in general, particularly for working engines who are busy. Although I was quite pleased when I was able to report to Ray that there was indeed an episode of TTTE where Thomas sends Percy a postcard.

But these guys are both preserved and while Pilot still works, the IRM is only really open on weekends. They got time. They have people with hands who can read and write who also have time.

DJ: Oh, what if they send each other letters? Ain't like they've got anything else going on. Ray: c2c. I was thinking about them being pen pals. Especially since they live so close, the letters don't take long to arrive. They can be short and sweet. DJ: Gives them something to look forward to. Ray: You can send some a few times a year and not be overwhelming with the information.

Which was all well and good, but then I found something practically serendipitous. A sign that this was the way to go.

So remember how Pioneer had all these publicity stunts and events done for it? On its tenth anniversary, they made a six foot birthday cake and rigged up an eight-foot-long knife such that the train could pull forward, break a ribbon, and cut its own birthday cake.

Most of this cake was given to veteran and child hospital patients, but individual pieces were also sent off to each of Pioneer's "brothers" and a hundred-ish other fellow streamliners across the country.

With a letter.

DJ: Raymond. There's a train letter IN the Pioneer Zephyr book. FROM the Pioneer Zephyr. About his birthday party. Although he does say in it that he only has brothers. Ray: OH MY GOD. How did we know??? Are we just that fucking good???? Do we just know and perceive the truth THAT well. DJ: It's too fucking cute. Ray: The fact that he is a he and also says he has brothers is revolutionary. That almost strains the limits of credulity, knowing how Train Guys are about calling engines "she". But I know you would not lie to me about this. Can you scan it?????

The fucking train actually, canonically, wrote a letter.

So yeah, the trains are pen pals. And they write to each other about their past and but moreso about their present. Because as it happens, their history post-preservation is interesting too (as I'm sure you can relate) and there's far less said about it already.

The first batch of letters are done, we're just getting some other materials together before we can publish.

EDIT: people are reblogging this again so just editing to add that you can read the train letters here.

[purpleprincessonfyre]

OUAT AU - Electric Touch

Ib: @jackiequick

Characters: Liane Felton St. James, Ethan Lensherr Long, Rick Banner, Cassandra Ashfield Sean, Belladonna, Sherrif Erik Lensherr

Ship: Ethan x Liane

Being a mother is hard. A role your body never builds you for specifically, that you take on nevertheless, is always more special and beautiful when you choose it for yourself. At least, that's what Liane St. James was telling herself as she paced on her lawn, trying not to blow her stack in front of the Sherrif, her neighbour Rick and her best friend Cassandra Sean who was trying to say soothing things.

"She could have already gotten on a plane and flown to another country by now!"

"Be reasonable Lia, Bella is a smart girl."

"Yeah too smart! I'm such a bad mother! She could be dead in a ditch and I wouldn't know...why didn't I give her a cellphone for her birthday..."

"She would never have used it. Trust me, she won't have gone far."

Liane's temper cooled but never fully disappeared. It was a flaw of hers that she had a rather hot temper and if looks could kill she could've hurt many people with a single withering glare. Cassandra was one of the few people who could handle Liane's temper and she was a great friend to her when her rage started to bubble over.

"We can't put out a missing person's alert yet, Miss St. James, its still too early. Besides, she's a teenager. They rebel more than most." The Sherrif scoffed, really wishing he wasn't there. The adults continued to argue as the sound of tires were heard from up the road as an unfamiliar blue car was heading towards the house. Liane was still pacing as the car pulled up and her daughter Belladonna stepped out along with a man who looked to be in his late 20s, perhaps early 30s, with dark hair, green eyes and a clean shaven face. Rick was still grilling his daughter Riley before they realised Belladonna had returned.

"For the eighth time, where is Belladonna?"

"I'm right here."

Liane turned around to see her daughter standing on the lawn and instantly she ran to embrace her intelligent little girl, tears rolling down her cheeks as her heels clacked against the concrete.

"Oh my God you scared me half to death!"

"You can be so dramatic Mother."

"Where did you go? What happened?! I was worried sick..."

"I found my birth father and an uh pen pal.."

Liane looked up and saw a man with her daughters hair and her nose staring back at her, letting go of Bella to greet this stranger who felt oh so familiar to her in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. He approached nervously and smiled, hands stuffed in his pockets, shrugging.

"Hi."

The Sherrif gave Liane a look before introducing himself to the newcomer and taking Belladonna inside so the adults could talk. Liane looked up at Bella's father trying to look confident but was tapping her nails on her knee the way she did when she was nervous.

"Liane St. James, I'm her adoptive mother."

"Ethan. Ethan Long. It's nice to meet you."

He held out a hand for her to shake and she took it, a crackle of electricity seeming to pass through her as they touched, something seeming to spark inside her as they shook hands. The silence was awkward after they let go of each other and Liane tried to break the ice a little.

"Well I guess I should thank you for bringing her back. Would you like to come inside? I don't know how far she travelled to find you but I wouldn't want you to get back on the road so soon after that...revelation. Uh, drink?"

"Uh.. yeah yeah that would...yeah. Thanks."

Liane smiled and led him inside of her house. The house was very obviously decorated with femininity in mind, pastel shades on the walls, bursts of pink and purple scattered throughout the decor and furniture and a few items that belonged to Bella in shades of jet black or grey showed that their tastes very clearly differed.

Ethan took a seat in the kitchen as Liane busied herself looking for supplies, rummaging through cupboards for cups and such to make him feel welcome.

"Tea? Coffee?"

"Uh coffee is fine thanks."

"Black?"

"Yeah Uh two sugars thanks."

Liane got to work making drinks, dumping coffee into a mug that said Fighter-Town, Maine on it and brewing a vibrant tea in a dainty tea cup covered in flowers for herself.

"So Ethan, where did my elusive girl find you?"

"Uh Boston actually so not...not very far."

"Oh I see, is it just you then?"

"Yeah uh...yeah it's just me."

Liane brought over the mug of coffee and her tea and sat at the table with him, taking off her dark blazer to reveal a pink frilled blouse and kicked off a pair of pink kitten heels as she sipped her tea. She loosened her long blonde hair from its tight chignon and it cascaded down her back, instantly looking at least ten years younger.

"So what happened to Bella's mother, if that's not too personal a question?"

"Uh well its sort of complicated I guess. Messy breakup, neither of us felt ready, it wasn't really my decision but we were young and foolish."

"I know what that's like...." Liane responded, stirring her cup listlessly. There was sadness in her eyes as she gazed just past Ethan at the window overlooking the town, clearly trying not to dwell on the past but not quite being able to escape it.

"Uh so what about you? Is there someone in your life?"

Liane laughed but there was no humor. She put the teaspoon down and looked at Ethan directly as she spoke.

"Not anymore. There was someone, started out like a dream and then turned into a nightmare. I've never been very lucky with love. I tend to attract the wrong type of person. Lucky for me Bella has her head screwed on right. She sees through those men quick as anything, her opinions are harsh but she's never been wrong. If she comes up to me and says 'Mom, that man is dangerous' I listen good and get out of there fast. She's a smart girl."

"So I've heard..." Ethan quipped, trying to lighten the mood. Liane smiled, starting to relax. She was beginning to see flashes of her daughter in him, the way he spoke, his mannerisms, the way his eyes moved as she spoke, it was eerie but strangely comforting.

"So how does one end up in Fighter-Town eh?"

"I was born here, it's all I've ever known. Never wanted to go anywhere else, never tried either..." she said, once again gazing out the window. This seemed to take Ethan by surprise, a slight air of suspicion coming over him as her eyes seemed to cloud over for a moment before returning to him.

"What never? Not even on vacation? Disneyland? Niagara Falls? Yellowstone? Hell, NYC?"

"Nope. Never really felt the need to go anywhere. Besides this place isn't that bad. We do have a beach!"

"A beach? What color is the sea?"

"Depends on the time of year but its almost blue?"

Ethan laughed at that, making Liane chuckle too.

"It's not much but, it's home I guess. Always has been."

They fell silent again after that, not really sure of what else to say. Liane traced the lip of her cup carefully while Ethan just sat there awkwardly, checking his phone every so often.

"Damn, reception up here is kinda lousy."

"Eh you get used to it. Internet comes and goes and sometimes phone calls get cut off but yknow."

"So uh well, what do you do? For work I guess."

"Oh uh I'm a lawyer. Self-employed which is easier said than done. Doesn't pay...that well I suppose but it makes me happy and keeps food on the table. And people tend to trust you when you vouch for them."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting to hear that but pleasantly surprised to learn his daughter was being raised by an intelligent woman. As he finished his coffee, the Sherrif poked his head into the room, saying his goodbyes.

"I'd best be off, I'll be at the station if you need anything else, Ms St. James. Bella seems alright, you take care of yourselves now."

"Thanks again Sherrif. I'll see you around."

The Sherrif nodded, touching his hat and headed out the door, leaving the two alone.

"So...the decor, Bella's idea?"

"Oh no! Not even a little bit. She hates it all, pastels, pinks, fluffy and cute is not her style. But she respects my love for it. On her ninth birthday she very politely informed me that my taste didn't match her own and she would prefer to wear darker clothes and have a bedroom that suits her style from now on. And that she would like to play the violin. So we went out and got her all those things and she seemed content."

"Wow she just asked that? And you weren't offended?"

Liane chuckled, picking up a lavender leather jacket off the back off Ethan's chair and hanging it on a hook by the door.

"I always treated Bella like a person when raising her. Never used baby talk with her, never spoke down to her, told it like it is, she was the one who told Me Santa wasn't real so that tradition died early on, never believed in the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny but she's a hell of a reader. Her shelves are covered in fantasy stories, I guess she likes the escape."

Ethan smiled and the light seemed to dance in his eyes as he did, bringing a warm smile to Liane's face in turn. She felt comfortable around Ethan for some reason, but she wasn't quite sure why yet. She noticed his cup was empty and went to reach for it to put it away and accidentally grabbed his hand instead, the two of them suddenly locking eyes as that feeling of electricity suddenly ran through Liane again, that warm spark that made her question everything.

"I'm so sorry..."

"I was reaching for the-"

"No you're good I-"

"Wow, your hand is warm-"

"Well I-"

They were cut short by the sound of Belladonna clearing her throat by the door, her arms crossed over her chest as her large, dark eyes landed on Liane's.

"Your show about insipid doctors and nurses wishing to fornicate with one another has started. Your love for it dictates that you wouldn't want to miss it."

"Forni- oh Grey's! Of course, thanks sweetie, thank you for the reminder."

"Grey's Anatomy?"

"Yeah the characters are intriguing. Oh judge me, I could care less, I'm allowed to like dumb things."

Ethan laughed and the flicker of a smile appeared on Bella's face briefly as well. Liane rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she got up and walked Ethan to the door.

"It's been a pleasure, uh I would suggest if you plan on sticking around you find a room at Grandpa's Diner up the road, I don't really have the space to accommodate you unless you were okay with the couch?"

"No uh, I'll go check out that diner place and..."

"It's okay if you need space after all this. Take as much time as you need. Really." She smiled, seeing the sun start to sink in the distance, the sky now a burning pink and purple as the day drew to a close.

"Here uh, take my number if you want to come and see Bella at all, just in case you drop by and we're not in." She offered, handing him a pink business card with her details on. He smiled and wrinkled his nose, noting the scent of freshly cut roses on the card.

"Scented?"

"It leaves an impression, yknow?"

"Sure does. See you around St. James."

"Welcome to Fighter-Town, Ethan." Liane smiled, waving him off as he left. As she shut the door she saw his car pull away and watched him go, feeling that tug in her chest again, and sighed.

"You are the least subtle person I know."

Liane jumped, turning around to see Belladonna stood behind her, her face as always impassive but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

"Don't. It's only natural to try and connect with someone so closely linked to your family. Do you want to stay in touch?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, but he's your Dad, what's your verdict, my little raven?"

"I'd like to see him again. Ask him questions. Tell him about myself. Fix things. And other stuff."

"Duly noted. Please tell me you paused the TV."

Bella reached into the pocket of her dress, holding out the TV remote.

"It boggles my mind that you still doubt my intellect to this day."

Liane smiled, taking the remote from her and headed for the lounge, a strange warmth now lingering on her heart. Ethan Long was now occupying space in her mind. Here we go again.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks again to Lor for restarting my OUAT obsession and getting my mind into the world of fantasy..again

@jackiequick @gcthvile @blueboirick @mallowbee4 @meiramel @ask-starrk @ask-missparker @askstevella @wizzzardofoz @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @finlayholmes @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh

[time-keepers-blade]

The droning echoes of the car’s engine were the only noises heard in the vehicle. Save for the occasional sniffle, the shuffling of fabric, the crinkling of paper, the sounds of soft breathing. The four college-aged adults lent their banter and ribbings to the sun, and as it went down, so too did the energies in the car.  

In the front seat, driving, was Raylin, though she fought to keep her eyes fully open and her wrists begged for a rest. Sat next to her was Nathaniel, dubbed as the “chief navigator” by Dustin (who currently sat slumped over against the car door in the backseat.) Nate’s eyes were constantly darting from the paper map sprawled out across the dash and in his lap, to the road, the signs, the few and far buildings. He was the most situationally aware in their group, a beast at back-road navigation. 

In the backseat, both slumped onto their respective car doors, are the troublesome duo: Dustin and Zakariah. Better known as “Dusty and Zak, the 10-year-olds trapped in young-adult bodies”.  

Just beyond the car’s glass, the view of darkened trees and a black sky lulled the quartet of students to slumber. 

The drive was long, each member of the group taking their respective turns behind the wheel in increments to allow each person some sleep. After countless restroom stops and gas fill-ups, plus the occasional bite at a random fast-food place tucked just off the closest exit, Nate’s old green Tahoe turned its tires around the curb leading into the Princeton Airport. With Ray driving and Nate scanning the parking lot for an empty space, the car was parked after only a short drive-around. Ray pushed the gearshift into park and immediately threw her arms up, bracing against the ceiling of the car in a strange sort of stretch. She groaned as her back popped in segments, sighing as she unbuckled herself and grabbed for the door handle. Nate qroggily pushed open the passenger door and stepped out, stretching his back as far as it would go as soon as his foot met the ground.  

Ray busied herself with grabbing her makeup bag from the back of the car and digging for her hairbrush, while Nate tapped on the glass of the back passenger door, attempting to wake Zak. Zak slowly roused, groggily making eye contact with Nate before scanning his surroundings, recognizing the undeniable airport parking lot. He leaned forward, stretching his arms past the shoulder of the passenger seat in front of him before twisting around to pop his back. He then leaned over the pile of snacks and blankets next to him to gently shake Dustin’s shoulder.  

Dustin quickly roused with a start before relaxing upon seeing Zak, then got straight to stretching, twisting his head and back in attempt to pop out all tension.  

Eventually, the quartet was out of the car and on the crosswalk leading up to the airport’s front doors. Ray hopped onto a call with her pen-pal of several months, the owner of the house the quartet would be moving into. Dustin and Zak immediately took to searching for the nearest bathroom while Nate trailed behind with Ray, listening in on the phone call to see where to meet the house owner. Within 30 minutes, after all four members of the friend group were properly cleaned up and full of snacks, they approached a trio of men resting in chairs in the airport lobby. Ray was the first to pipe up, greeting the trio by their YouTube channel’s name: EveryManHYBRID. 

[aeligsido]

[MASTERLIST] Wolfstar Microfics, July 2024 edition.

for @wolfstarmicrofic

AO3.

Prompt 1 — Western. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 2 — Thriller. [Rating: T; TW: stalking, implied kidnapping.]

Prompt 3 — Dark fic. [Rating: M; TW: kidnapping, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, kind of forced relationship and captivity (at least implied for the future).]

Prompt 4 — Monsters. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 5 — Whump. [Rating: T; TW: blood, injury.]

Prompt 6 — Suspense. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 7 — Soulmates. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 8 — Teenagers. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 9 — Hurt/Comfort. [Rating: T; TW: minor character death.]

Prompt 10 — Pen pals. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 11 —Over 30 years old. [Rating: G; TW: mention of alcohol.]

Prompt 12 — Recovery. [Rating: T; TW: past character death.]

Prompt 13 — Supernatural. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 14 — Secret Identity. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 15 — Afterlife. [Rating: T; TW: major character death.]

Prompt 16 — Crime fic. [Rating: T; TW: mention of murder (very light).]

Prompt 17 — Slice of life. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 18 — Illness. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 19 — Fairytale. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 20 — Hurt/no comfort. [Rating: T; TW: major character death, implied suicide.]

Prompt 21 — Drama. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 22 — Grief/Mourning. [Rating: T; TW: character deaths.]

Prompt 23 — Rescue. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 24 — Kid fic. [Rating: G; TW: Snape being is delightful self.]

Prompt 25 — Angst. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 26 — Sickfic. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 27 — Fix-It. [Rating: T; TW: war and its consequences on the survivors.]

Prompt 28 — Outsider POV. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 29 — Crack Fic. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 30 — Missing Scene. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

Prompt 31 — Fluff. [Rating: G; TW: none.]

-

I cleaned up the fics for AO3 so there's less spelling mistakes and so on over here. I'll keep it the way it is on Tumblr bc shame doesn't have a hold on me.

Also, if I need to remove the @ do tell me plz ksksjsk

It was fun to do, I'll definitely do it again ❤️