#the thoughts they crowd me thinking gourd

[hitwiththetmnt]

[haddonfieldwhore]

welcome to the party - will borgen

will borgen x fem!reader

summary: after will and a few of the kraken help you get away from your ex at a bar, they invite you to celebrate their winter classic win with them

warnings: shitty non descriptive ex bf, drinking, language

word count: around 1.7k i think

“please, just leave me alone,” you sighed for the thousandth time, you ex continuing to pull on your arm, not getting the hint.

“come on, baby. i know you miss me,” he slurred, drunk off his ass; and you had the unfortunate pleasure of running into him when you were just trying to have a good night.

“as if,” you rolled your eyes, pulling your arm from his grip finally.

“i’m gonna get you another drink, maybe you’ll cool down,” he mumbled, and you shook your head.

“don’t waste your money,” you sighed, but he was already off to the bar, not listening to you once again. you looked around the bar, which was pretty crowded; although it was new year’s day, it was a monday, so you hadn’t thought it would be this busy. you knew that a lot of people here were probably celebrating the seattle kraken winning the winter classic earlier, and as your eyes scanned the patrons in the crowd, you noticed a few of the players were actually here. the group of them seemed to be mostly keeping to themselves, although the corner of the room that they occupied grew louder and louder as the night went on, seemingly joining in celebrating with the fans.

hoping to blend in to the crowd and lose your ex, you slowly migrated over to their side of the room, laughing as one of them, a brunette with curly hair stood on a table with the help of some of his friends. not paying attention to where you were going, you felt your body run into something; rather someone, and looked up at the person.

“sorry,” you both muttered, but the tall man smiled down at you, light brown hair peeking out from under a seattle kraken beanie.

“it’s my fault, i should watch where i’m walking,” you admitted while checking over your shoulder to see if your ex had spotted you.

“hey, i also wasn’t looking, so we’ll call it even,” he laughed, his light eyes slightly glossy from drinking. “are you looking for someone?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“more like someone is looking for me-“

“and you don’t want to be found.” he said, putting the pieces together.

“that obvious?” you laughed, and he smiled.

“you can stay over here with us; we won’t let anything happen to you,” he said with a cute smile, gesturing to the table of other kraken players.

“are you sure? i don’t want to intrude; i assume you’re celebrating winning the game earlier?”

“mhm, and it’s not intruding because i invited you,” he smiled, obviously in a good mood still from the game. “did you watch it?” he asked. you felt his hand softly touch your back, respectfully just below your shoulder blades as he steered you back towards his table.

“i saw parts of it - you scored right?”

“i did,” he smiled wide, and you couldn’t stop one from spreading across your face as well.

“congratulations,” you said genuinely as the two of you approached the table, and he pulled a chair out for you sit before taking one next to you.

“i’m will, by the way,” he said, offering his hand for you to shake.

“y/n,” you accepted it, his large hands dwarfing yours as you realized just how tall he was, even sitting down.

“this is gourde-o, tye, matty, yamo, and that’s dunner,” he introduced the others at the table, pointing at the one stood on the table next theirs. “there’s a few more of us around here somewhere.” they all said their hellos, but your smile dropped as your ex finally found you, setting your drink on the table in front of you.

“so this is where you ran off to,” he said. “i was looking everywhere for you baby.”

“i told you not to get me this,” you said, pushing the drink away from yourself. “and don’t call me that, we broke up months ago.”

“you still love me though, i know you do.”

“please just leave. don’t ruin my night because you can’t get over me,” you were getting frustrated, tired of being polite.

“do you even know these guys? are you some kind of groupie now?” he spat, and will tenses next to you.

“i’m just sitting with them, now please just get a cab and go home-“ you lied.

“which one of them are you sleeping with?”

“leave her alone, man,” wills voice came from next to you, and while you appreciated it, you knew your ex was just gonna target him now. while your ex could be a bit of an asshole when he drank, will seemed to be a happy drunk, and that only pissed your ex off more.

“so it’s you then?” he pointed at will, and you shook your head. standing up from your seat, you put your hands on your exes chest, pushing him away from the table.

“get out of here and sleep it off. before you do something you’ll regret,” you pleaded, and he grabbed at your wrist again, but you managed to get your hand away before he could get a hold of tou.

“why, so you can go get passed around by the hockey team? yeah right.”

“dude, let her go,” will appeared next to you, his hand resting on your hip.

“will-“

“get your hands off her,” your ex slurred.

“just leave her alone,” will spoke calmly, seemingly having sobered up a little bit in the last few minutes. he was a head taller than your ex, and despite his cute demeanour, was ten times as intimidating, helped partially by the large scar across his neck. “come on man.” you looked to the side to see a few people watching, while thankfully most people were ignoring the situation; or they were too drunk to notice over the sound of the blaring music. either way, you really hadn’t wanted to cause a scene, especially now with will and the other guys involved. tye and matty were standing behind will as well now, making sure you were okay, and you appreciated it greatly.

your ex took a step back, and will relaxed a bit as well, pulling you behind his body as your ex stared him down, but decided after a quick look at the three hockey players guarding you to give it up. he cursed at you before storming out of the club, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“thank you,” you said, wrapping your arms around will in a hug, his arms circling around you. “i’m sorry about him.”

“you don’t have to apologize. we’re just glad you’re okay. do you want to come sit with us?” he asked, and you felt relaxed to see him smiling again. you nodded, following him hand in hand back to the table, and quickly shots were placed in both your hands by will’s teammates. will took off his hat, running a hand through his messy hair, clinking his glass against yours before you each downed the liquor.

•

a few hours and a few more drinks later, you found yourself sitting in wills lap as the others had returned to the table and you had quickly run out of seats. his arms held you tight around your waist so you wouldn’t fall. his skin was warm and his face flushed pink from the alcohol, the blush spreading to the tips of his ears. you were sure that you were in a similar state; having lost count of how many drinks you’d had. one look at all of the empty glasses and bottles on the table told you it was a lot. at one point, the guys all had celebratory beers in huge boot shaped glasses, on the house to celebrate the teams win, and you had snapped a photo of will drinking from his earlier.

you found yourself admiring how pretty he was, his light green eyes heavy from the alcohol, but still remained bright and full of excitement as he looked back and forth between his friends throughout conversation. your eyes looked down at the scar across his neck, and you wondered what it was from but didn’t ask, instead using your thumb to wipe away some eyeblack makeup that had been on his cheeks to help with the sun during the outdoor game. once the pigment was gone, you hummed sleepily as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“what’s that for?” he giggled happily.

“just another thank you,” you smiled. “and because you’re kinda really cute.”

“kinda really?” he repeated, and you laughed as you stared at eachother, the alcohol making both of you giddy, oblivious to anyone else in the bar as you looked at his green eyes. the room felt like it was spinning slightly, or like you were on a boat out on the ocean, rocking back and forth with the crashing waves. it was kind of fitting, as the guys had shown you pictures of their arrival outfits, having shown up to the game in bright fisherman’s overalls.

“mhm,” you agreed, holding his chin gently in your hand, your noses almost touching from how close you were. his eyes scanned your face, looking at your eyes, then your lips, and back to your eyes again, and your heart skipped a few beats.

“you’re kinda really cute too,” he mumbled, his words jumbling together slightly from intoxication, and he bumped his forehead against yours as you giggled; your stomach beginning to ache slightly from how much you had been laughing tonight.

“get a room, you two,” matty laughed, but neither of you cared, ignoring him as you returned to the present and out of your own little world.

“more shots?” vince suggested, and you and a few others all shook your heads.

“schwartzy said he’s done setting up the after party, if we want to head over to his place,” yamo said, reading a text off his phone. you checked the time on your phone, seeing that it was only 9pm. you didn’t want the night to end, but also didn’t want to overstay your welcome. hanging out at the bar was one thing, but a house party, presumably full of the teams wives and girlfriends seemed like a bit too much; especially when you were far too drunk to make a good first impression.

“do you want to come to a friends place?” will asked you.

“are you sure? isn’t it like a team thing?” you asked.

“kind of,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“you coming with us?” tye asked you.

“i don’t think i can this time, sorry guys,” you decided, a little nervous about the idea of being at a party with that many strangers, no matter how nice they all had been so far. “but thank you! maybe another time.”

“it’s okay,” will smiled. “can i give you my number so you can’t text me let me when you’ve made it home safe?” he asked, and you nodded with a smile. you exchanged numbers, and called a cab, will and the guys waiting until you got in the car before they left.

you sat in the back of the car, thinking over everything that had happened, from the encounter with your ex to almost kissing will; and wishing you had. you hoped you would see him again, but knowing that he was very busy travelling and also a famous hockey player, you weren’t sure it would happen.

as you stepped inside your apartment, you typed out a quick text to will.

the alcohol was starting to wear off slightly, and you had just enough energy to wash your face and peel your clothes off, throwing on some pyjamas before hopping into bed.

as you scrolled through instagram in bed, your mind drifted to a certain tall brunette. you easily found his instagram from the teams page, thinking he wouldn’t mind if you followed him. you looked through the teams page at all of the pictures from the game, even videos of the goals being scored, including will’s. you’d had a lot of fun with the guys, and found yourself really hoping that the kraken won again soon.

dt: @krakenkrunch

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[haljathefangirlcat]

My dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “Beowulf” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

literal years later, when I least expected it: dude I swear I just saw Cain's spawn lurking in the fens

My buddy the narrator pacing: Hrothulf is plotting against his uncle

The thing about Beowulf is... I never quite got the hype about it. (Yes, we're not Supposed to use words like "hype" about world literature Classics, especially from ancient times, or to make light of them in general. Shut up and contemplate the fact that social media posts expressing nothing more than personal opinions and feelings aren't generally meant to be the same thing as academic work to be shared between academians in an academic context.) Ofc, I understood its historical value, including in terms of linguistics and philology. But in terms of "would I pick this as reading material to obsess and fall into a research hole over"? Despite trying a few times, I never quite got past ALL the references to God every other line. ("Snorri was an Evil Zealot who set out to knowingly and purposefully Christianize Norse mythology For The Evulz" crowd, I will tattoo each and every single one of those all over your body so you can't look into a mirror without accidentally reading one ever again.) The apparently disjointed "Beowulf fights Grendel and then Grendel's mother in Denmark. Years later, after going back to Sweden and becoming king, he also fights a dragon but this time he dies" narrative didn't really appeal to me, either. Nor did the presence of (afaik) exactly one (1) named female character. (Wealhtheow, babe, in hindsight I'm so sorry.)

I'm not sure what changed, exactly. It's just that, some time ago, I finally got around to reading Grendel by John Gardner, and I loved it and thought "wow, this would have made me either bawl my eyes out or stare off into space for like five-to-ten minutes after finishing it, had I read it as a teen." And after that, I found myself thinking "well, now I should probably get to know know the original story," and finally picking up my copy of Tolkien's translation of Beowulf, and realzing there actually was a lot going on in the story, and getting way too engaged in the looming "Hrothulf kills Hrothgar's kids" subplot that doesn't even really resurface in any later material about Hrolf Kraki (though those aren't exactly free from fucked-up family dynamics, either...), and going "!!! Volsungar mention!!!!" at the bit about Sigemund and Fitela despite already knowing about the Sigemund and Fitela bit and the whole "who actually killed the dragon first/in which tradition" question, and losing my mind at the bit about Hama and the "necklace of the Brosings" and "Eormanaric's hate" because, yeah, I already knew about that one, too, kind of, but recently I've gone into a little bit of a Brisingamen deep-dive, and a while ago I read a really interesting commentary and translation of the Hildebrandslied that had quite a lot to say not just about the specific hatred/enmity of a powerful king for an adventurous hero but also about the shift from Odoacher to Ermanric as Dietrich' von Bern's enemy, which ofc (?) got me thinking about Eormanaric/Ermanric/Jormunrek's apparent widespread reputation for being an asshole, something there probably has to be some accessible paper in English about somewhere out there...

Ahem. Anyway, I also found myself alternating reading Tolkien's translation with watching Grendel Grendel Grendel, the weird and very simplified and toned down but still somehow very enjoyable and sad kids' movie adaptation of Gardner's Grendel. And Beowulf & Grendel, the one without any magic where Grendel's a traumatized Neanderthal on a quest of vengeance that's somehow also quite a good watch despite the wonky editing, the cast and crew being possibly cursed by the Norse gods, and ofc, the time-displaced Neanderthals. And Animated Epics: Beowulf, which I might have actually watched once as a child, thinking about it. And Simon Roper and Jackson Crawford's read-along, featuring interesting linguistic, literary, and historical notes as well as Australian!Hrothgar, Beowulf making it exceedingly clear that "some of my best friends are Danes!", and some unforgettable exchanges such as "I used to tell my students the story about that time I almost drove off a cliff when they were worried about their exams to make them undestand that I, too, had experienced the fear of death :|" "I'm glad you didn't perish :)" "Thanks. :|" (I'm on the Fits 8-11 video, btw. Even if, when it comes to Tolkien's translation, I'm already at the part where Beowulf says goodbye to Hrothgar and sails back to the land of the Geats. Look, I remebered thos videos existed somewhat belatedly.)

I think eventually I might also end up rewatching The 13th Warrior (which I'm gonna go out on a limb and say might be the true origin of the ahistorical Neanderthals in Beowulf & Gredenl, but I remember liking that one, too). And Outlander (my beloved "aliens crash-land in Viking Age Scandinavia and fight each other while being Sad & Tragic in their own ways" one, not the Scottish one) but specifically as a Beowulf reimagining this time around (rather than as "the movie that could have totally had the Brooding Hero, Fiery But Sweet Warrior Woman, and Hotheaded Rival-Turned-Friend invent modern polyamory, because that wouldn't have been weirder than having a character called Boromir" like every other time). Maybe that weird post-apocalyptic Beowulf that was the first to do the "Grendel's mom's got it goin' on" thing, too, at least if I can find that snarky review of it on Youtube again. Probably not the Uncanny CGI Desperately Trying To Be Live-Action 20O5 Beowulf where the titular hero keeps screaming "BEOWULF!!" and "I'M BEOWULF!!!" just in case the audience's intelligence levels can't be considered to be above the average rock's, and that also decided to add a foot fetish/body paint kink note to its cover of Grendel's Mom, though, unless I can find any snarky review of it. (I remember reading somewhere that the director actually hated Beowulf, as in the poem itself, and accepting the bit of info without question. The high heels-shaped feet are just one of the reasons why I wonder if anyone ever asked him if perhaps he hated women, too. At least his work supposedly contributed to the writers of Outlander being told "there's already too many Beowulf movies coming out!" and going "whatever, we're gong to do our own thing! With blackjack and hookers aliens and shieldmaidens", so I should probably thank him for that.)

Unfortunately, while I'm pretty sure I'll be able to avoid writing down a list of Adaptations I Absolutely Need To Check Out One Day Or I'll Die (i.e. Every Single I've Ever Heard About) like I did for The Nibelungs In Their Every Possible Form, all of this had the unforeseen side effect of reminding me that, even when I didn't have much if any interest in Beowulf, I used to have a bit of soft spot for Unferth. I mean, how could I not, when I imprinted on Hagen von Tronje when I was eleven-years-old? Give me a guy who knows all of The Hero's heroic deeds and still doesn't find him all that impressive from their very first meeting, and I'll just "👀" at him. Though from what I knew, this guy in particular seemed to go against his character type by becoming more friendly with the hero and lending him his ancestral sword, which seemed pretty interesting. Especially because he was apparently a fratricide, too? And you wouldn't expect a guy who killed his own brothers and got a "... and that's why you'll go to Hell!" by The Hero over it to have any kind of redemption arc/sudden reveal of hidden depths in any positive sense. And there was also that paper (which, ofc, I didn't bookmark at the time, and now I want to kick myself for that until I remember the title or at least the author...) arguing that maybe him telling off Beowulf about the swimming race was less about him as a person and more about him having a specifc role among the thanes in Heorot that included testing strangers requesting to speak with Hrothgar to figure out if they really were who they claimed to be or if they could actually live up to their reputation...

Again, I blame John Gardner, at least in part. He has a really crunchy Unferth, who definitely reawakened my interest in the character. The on in Grendel Grendel Grendel wasn't half-bad, either, though very different in some respects. But the original, too, ended up being actually so much more fun (meaning, so much more to chew on/rotate in my mind) than I could have imagined from my vague memories.

First you've got the iconic "didn't you look like a total loser against Breca, and isn't that literally all there is to know about you?" "shut up, you're drunk, a kinslayer, someone I have never heard anyone tell heroic tales about, and also, maybe if you were braver Grendel wouldn't keep eating you guys" banter, and I'm starting to realize that might be already more juicy, in terms of both Beowulf's and Unferth's characterizations and their interactions together, than I ever thought it was. Then you've got a line that sounds an awful lot like "everyone could see Grendel's severed arm hanging from the ceiling and that shut Unferth up" and seems to imply some sort of lingering bitterness on Unferth's side when Heorot is in the middle of the celebrations for Grendel's death. But then Unferth actually starts being described in much more favorable terms, almost as if the narrator were pointing out that, despite what the audience might think after his first appearance, there's a reason he's close to Hrothgar and has a good place in his hall... even if at the same time Unferth's praised for his "mighty heart" (something quite different from cowardice), wisdom, and the trust everyone in Heorot apparently has in his mind, there's actually another reference to him having had no mercy for his relatives "in the play of swords" in the past. (Fun little detail: that line comes right after one to the effect of "Hrothgar and Hrothulf were there and no betrayal had yet happened between them"...)

Until, finally, you get Beowulf preparing to go fight Grendel's mother and Unferth giving him his family's swords, Hrunting. And all kinds of entertaining things happen in relation to Hrunting.

You've got Unferth not remembering his first words to Beowulf because he was just really, really, really drunk when he said them, which seems to go well with Beowulf himself calling out his speech as a drunken boast but not with the "that shut him up" line I mentioned before. (Which leads me to wonder: was he actually too drunk to know what he was saying? Or did Beowulf give him an easy out in case he regretted it, which Unferth eventually chose to take to try and smooth things over?) You've got Unferth being "mighty of valour" yet not daring to go after Grendel's mother himself and "forfeiting glory" while giving his weapon to a "worthier" warrior, but his sword getting some lengthy praise nonetheless, to the point of being basically deemed infallible, and Beowulf not only not making any more comments on Unferth's supposed lack of bravery but calling him a man of "wide renown", praising his sword some more, vowing to succeed in his heroic feat with Hrunting or die trying, and telling Hrothgar that no matter what happens, Unferth must get it back when it's all over. And after that... you've got Hrunting utterly failing to kill or even harm Grendel's mother.

Except, that's literally the first time it ever fails at anything? And Beowulf can only kill Grendel's mother when, with the help of God, he finds a magical sword forged by giants, which implies there was no problem with it (and, by extension, with Unferth?) as the whole situation simply needed a little something extra to be dealt with?

Then, you've got Beowulf actually bringing Hrunting back, even if it wasn't much use to him when it really mattered. And praising it again, making sure to publicly clarify, while addressing Hrothgar himself, that no, it really is an excellent sword. And, after some more "the monster is dead!" celebration, Unferth himself (unambiguously "bold", now) having the sword brought over again not just to lend it Beowulf, but to gift it to him.... a weapon that is both nothing to sneeze at and, as Beowulf himself has acknowledged while praising it, a family heirloom. (From a guy who probably already has enough complicated feelings about his family without running around giving that kind of stuff away, to boot!) One Beowulf accepts once more, and gladly, already figuring it will be "a good friend in war, a power in battle" and saying absolutely nothing bad about it (the narrator goes "oh he's so gallant!" at him after that bit, which is admittedly kind of hilarious in itself, but still, imho, not really much to go on if you want to think he's not being sincere) right before he announces his intentions to sail back home.

I'm gonna be honest: I had already read most fics tagged Beowulf/Unferth on AO3 before this Beowulf binge. And now, I've gone and reread them. I've actually read the ones I'd missed the first time around, too. Not that it took me much time at all, but still. WildandWhirling has two really lovely ones. This innuendo-heavy one is a delight to read, too.

I think I might end up writing at least one more. Maybe canon!verse, if I manage not to spiral into researching Old English attitudes to homosexuality, or maybe Modern!AU, if I manage to find a good way to transliterate "sailing off to another country to slay monsters" in this century in a convincing way. Even just to have more than six works in the tag itself. But we'll see...

I suppose, in the end, the whole point of this random, almost stream-of-consciousness post (besides freeing up my head from at least some of my recent Beowulf thoughts) might have turned out to be just that, no matter who they are, fangirls will, indeed, always make them gay. (... I say, as if this was a surprise and I didn't already ship a number Nibelungenlied-and-adjacent gay ships I got into way before any of this.) It wasn't its original purpose but *shrug* I'll take it.

Then again... come on. All that talking about swords. *grin*

[starlitangels]

Here. Have a ficlet while I’m still processing the Sovereign State season 1 finale 725 words

—

There he was. The moron. How he managed to wander so far off at the farmer’s market when I looked away for one damn second was beyond me. But his blond hair—gold in the sunlight—inability to sit still, and bouncy personality gave him away immediately. Even if he was somehow already halfway across the park.

The farmer’s market was his idea anyway. Why was he abandoning me around a bunch of strangers?

“Dammit, Guy,” I hissed. I excused myself as politely as I could from the stall selling gourds—that Guy had been the one wanting to look at while rambling about a great recipe involving banana squash he was gonna steal from his mom—and moving to weave through people to get over to him.

I caught glimpses of him over shoulders and around heads. And like a kid trying to doggy paddle to a beach ball floating away on the surface of a pool, he always seemed to be the same distance away from me. Flitting around to whatever caught his fancy.

Finally he slowed to a stop for longer at a stall selling handmade, homemade jewelry. A man about the same height as him—maybe an inch shorter—pulled up beside him and struck up a conversation. I edged carefully around two parents with a pair of strollers, losing sight of him for a moment. When he came back into view—

He was rigid—by his standards, anyway. His thumb was hitting his spinner ring on his forefinger hard, repeatedly. He was anxious.

I swore under my breath and pushed between two people who were in my way before jogging the rest of the way to the jewelry stall. I slowed to a walk. The kind that Guy would describe as stomp, probably.

I went right up behind Guy and glowered at the man who was talking to him. I was a few inches taller than Guy, and definitely taller than the man making him uncomfortable. I folded my arms. “This dude bothering you, babe?” I asked.

Guy whirled around, a broad smile immediately breaking out on his face. “Honey! We were just talking about you!” he exclaimed. I raised a brow and snorted.

“That right?” I asked, looking past his shoulder at the man. Challenging him to pick a fight if he dared, looking him directly in the eye.

I felt more than saw Guy lean closer to me.

The man grunted. “Said he has a partner who makes him happy,” he grumbled.

I smirked. “Damn right.” Even if I still can’t fathom how I make him happy, of all people.

With that, the creep turned and stalked off.

Once the dude was out of earshot and disappeared into the crowd, Guy sagged, wrapping his arms around me. “I am so glad you showed up. He was freaking me out.”

“I could tell,” I said, putting one of my arms around his shoulder. “Why do you think I always tell you not to wander off without me?”

His chest heaved against my side with how hard he was breathing. “Lesson learned.”

“Until you see the next shiny thing that catches your eye.”

He opened his mouth to protest, thought about it, and closed his mouth. I started laughing and bent down to kiss him. He eagerly met me. I kept it brief—we were in public—but I held his shoulders tight. Relieved he was okay. He was still clinging close to me too.

“You know no one gets to mess with you but me, right?” I whispered in his ear.

He sucked in a sharp breath and gave me that suggestive smirk of his. “Should we take this home?”

“In a bit. This was your idea, and I don’t want you complaining that you didn’t get to see everything.”

“Oh! Speaking of. Look at these!” He held up a little cardboard square with tiny holes punched out of it to thread earrings through. On it was a pair of silver ball studs where the earring fastener dangled below the earlobe with an enamel pepperoni pizza on the end of each hook. “Aren’t they cute?”

I chuckled. “You like them, don’t you?”

“Do you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I think if you like them, you should get them.”

His smile widened. “You’re the best, honey!” He popped a kiss to my cheek and turned to the couple running the stall.

[jev-urisk]

A Musing Monday 🎐

Today I am musing on too many things! 😵‍💫

My brain feels crowded by little rabbit holes and I keep catching myself fully lost in them to the point where im getting salty or spicy or sad over imaginary scenarios. Ive been having more nightmares than usual lately, too. So I guess what im going to muse on today is processing things (I'll leave musing on innovation and the way its weaponized against the working class ((one of the rabbit holes🐰))for another monday)

WHY am I circle-thinking about stuff like 'what would I do if I was stuck in the past?' 'why didnt the industrial revolution provide more ease and profit for every class' or 'how would I convince strong people to protect me if I was in an apocolypse situation?' 😣💫

Now take this with a grain of salt, I may have a psych degree but im not a researcher or anything (just a nerd with autism 🤓); my brain is using fictional scenarios to practice processing🎭🧮. It feels the need to practice because there's a LOT within my brain thats unprocessed right now (hello trauma, hello issues with finding a better job, hello feeling very vulnerable lately). 👋😩

Our brains are solving machines geared to find the answer🤖, and when that answer is not immidiatly available we may experience things like nighmares and intrusive thoughts and maladaptive daydreams to try to get an angle on The Thing thats not processed.🔬

Thinking about The Trauma directly often puts the body in a stress mode thats not condusive to creative problem solving📉. Like being stressed is literally counterproductive to solving bc we go into 🔥survival mode🔥where fight flight etc are The Options Available. Imagining yourself in a historical fiction situation is not a 1-1 ratio to 'what exactly happened when abuse appeared in MY past' and but ya know what, its close enough for our brains to bring it up as a substitute. 🤷

And the fact that our brains have this reaction to The Bad Thing is interesting in itself. 🤔 Why are some bad memories just things that happened, and some are so triggering your mind would rather process terrifying nightmares every night than just.. face The Memory? 🫠 Like it's over, it can't get you now, the past is dead, right?

The solution? Well obviously it looks a bit different for everyone, particularly depending on where you are on your path. 🧭 Like if you have nightmares/intrusive thoughts/maladaptive daydreaming and dont uh... dont have any trauma coming to mind that aint my place to tell you whats next 🤐. I can only really mind my own gourd here and MY next step is Accelarated Resolution Therapy🗃, which is often used with war veterans with ptsd, to store my truama memories in a better, less triggering way. ���

Well it turns out that memories like to be filed away by our senses 📂. Like memories sit best and retrieve easier (lets take xmas as an example🎄) if you're remembering the smell of xmas dinner, the sound of wrapping paper, the bite of the cold outside and the taste of hot coco✨️. When memories store poorly, as they usually do with trauma 😔, your body is not just remembering- it is acting as if You Are Still There. 💥📍

Infact to prepare for ART, I have had to purposly bring up all my old memories 😬, which has in turn signalled my brain to circle around pseudo truama thoughts when I'm 'at rest' in attempt to solve whats not really 'solvable' and with that weve gone fuuull circle on my musings here lmao ➿️

I got two weeks until that all important therapy session and until then I figure my brain is gonna keep trying to hampsterwheel 🐹🎡, but perhaps my loop will inspire something within you, or help you out of a loop, or perhaps make you realize you’ve been in a silent loop for awhile now.. 🔄👁👁

In anycase, thank your brain for me! Particularly if its doing these things I described above. It's trying so hard to help and protect you 🧠🫶 My apologies for giving it something so tough to chew on this Monday lmao 😅 Stay safe out there 🫂

(I don't have a taglist for my Monday posts yet, hmu if you want to be tagged on these zanny adventures plz)

[tuxedokit]

If you could relive any of your memories, which would it be?

weve been mulling this over like all day but we have so many good ones from this lifetime its hard to decide. im gonna ask around and we'll compile the best ones here - [AR] Autopilot 💾

last summer on our familys annual beach vacation we did shrooms and saw through the fabric of the universe and befriended The Horrors. that was pretty cool. id like to relive being high off my gourd stargazing in a place with such little light pollution - Starlight 🌌

im gonna say when we were in tennessee like almost 2 years ago. we had flown out to visit our friend (now qpp & partner system) seepy and heart's so small they're shorter than us and i dunno it was the first time doing something like that and she was so small in my arms and i could honestly have just held him forever. i love you seeps ◇ - Carpet ✨️

yesterday for our friend bears birthday we went to an enchanted forest escape room and it was so well put together and ethereal and it was the best 40 minutes of my life in this physical realm ive never felt so at home. there were puzzles and mushrooms and music and gnomes and my bestest friends were right there too!!! oh it was so wonderful - Sayakura 🧚‍♀️

confessing to luci. nuff said. but i wanna say more so im gonna: it was me realizing i was in love at the same time as confessing cause i kinda just asked for advice in a group server w them fdsgjsksl. we were already qpps and apparently my family thought we were already dating (i mean we called beem our soulmate like - ✨️) but like i wound up spending the whole afternoon just thinking about them and being giddy. it was nice - Luna 🌙

mine's gotta be the first time we climbed that abandoned water tower past the ravine. we had spraycans and i wrote trans rights on the side of it. the wind gave us such a thrill, it was incredible. and the view was definitely worth it - Waks 📹

im claiming that time in grade 11 when our gr9 science teacher + gr11-12 bio teacher mr coulter approached me and asked if i wanted to go on a field trip to the science centre that was intended for the grade 12 kids. i didnt know anyone but i didnt care bc mr coulter was there and i wore my new animaniacs shirt and i got to run around the science centre itself during the lunch break and play with genetics stuff (i was such a nerd about punett squares and all that its no wonder he asked me specifically). i think the best part was the feeling i had when i was sitting next to mr coulter on the bus ride there and back. he let me take a selfie with him.... mr coulter was like a father to me, so it meant a lot. - Quinn ✉️

i wanna relive when we were playing with shanny and teagsi and we climbed the big tree near the ice rink by our school. i used to read up there too :) - Little One 👾

the body's nanna flew us out to grenada in march... i would like to relive swimming at that beach, on that little island in carriacou. the water was clear and a such beautiful blue, the air was just a little too warm and humid, and sitting on that beach reminded me of my old home - Riku/Shore ⚔️

mine's gotta be the second year we went to camp mini yo we! specifically, reading the letters mom wrote me for each day of the week. she wrote a little story about me; i was the doctor's daughter but i didnt know it, and i had powers that warped me through space and time seemingly at random. she wrote that i found a place and led a revolution against tyrannical oppressive overlords. not single-handedly taking down the villains, but helping empower the people so they could fight for themselves. by the end of the week we had found a crowd of invested listeners in the other girls at camp. it was nice... i think about those letters a lot - Secret 🧩

we were bodily sitting alone in the grass at a local park, it was right as we were discovering our plurality. i could see all of us all over the park, as if we were all there. the kids were playing tag, some were poking around in the forest right there, quinn was in that big tree we like to sit under... scrooge and quinslap were off smoking a joint, sitting on a tree trunk that had grown a little horizontal before it remembered to grow up. it wasnt in our view but we know the path and it was in the area enough that they could be there while our body simply sat in the grass. it was a fascinating and beautiful feeling. like a family picnic, but with only one person present. - [AR] Autopilot 💾

might add more later

[snowberry-crostata]

Holidays of Skyrim

I’m still trying to get back in the swing of writing, so I decided to go for some low-hanging fruit. I’m currently working on a chapter that takes place during the harvest festival, and it’s got me thinking about holidays in TES. Most aren’t particularly fleshed out beyond a bit of flavor text and some information about what’s on sale that day, which is fine because it lets my imagination run rampant! While I was thinking about it, I decided to flesh out some thoughts about what some of these holidays would look like in Skyrim specifically. I think it would be neat if these were celebrated differently across the different holds as well, but I haven’t thought through that much detail yet.

I’ve noticed that ESO seems to do something that I particularly dislike, which is taking a modern (usually American) holiday and plopping it down into the game with only the thinnest veneer of world building (lookin’ at you, Witches Festival). I tried to take some existing holidays and details from the TES games and mix in some headcanon and some world building to make something that sounded plausible for what I imagine Skyrim to be like.

Harvest’s End

Harvest’s End, celebrated in the final days of Last Seed, is a major holiday celebrated across the Empire. Regardless of where one is from, a successful harvest and the end of the agricultural year is a reason to rejoice. In Skyrim, the harvest is celebrated with feasting and drinking. At this time of year Nords pay their respects to Kyne, the mother of men and goddess of storms. In villages the preparations are a communal effort, with each family pitching in what they can spare from their harvest and often contributing to the feast a signature dish which has been handed down through the generations. In cities, the food and drink is provided by local businesses and paid for through the generosity of prominent citizens or through the Jarl’s coffers.

Homes and businesses are decorated with garlands and wreaths of dried flowers, bunches of golden wheat (symbolizing prosperity and plenty), and paper lanterns. Preparations take place throughout the day; the real party starts when the sun goes down. In many places, large bonfires are lit to chase away the long winter nights. Whole villages gather for singing and circle dances around the fires, which can last for hours. Children try to put flower necklaces and wreaths on the dancers, and often have competitions to see how many flowers they can place in someone’s hair or beard.

Tales and Tallows

It is said that on the third of Hearthfire the spirits of the dead cross back into the mortal realm, wandering the land and pursuing unfinished business. On this day Nords gather with their families and clansmen to recite tales of their ancestors and pay their respects. This is an important holiday for skalds, who are in high demand and put on performances recalling the exploits of the greatest Nord heroes. A popular activity for children is lighting candles inside of carved turnips and gourds, which are tied to trees in order to light the way for the dead.

It is expected that Nords will travel to their ancestral barrow, if they can, to clean the graves and leave offerings. This is an especially important holiday for Falkreath, which sees more travelers to its expansive graveyards on this day than on any other. The inns stay full this night; only the particularly brave or foolish travel after dark when the spirits are at their most restless.

Witches Festival

While most Nords are at home in the midst of Frostfall, finishing their winter preparations or already snowed under in the farthest reaches of the north, there are some who gather in the wilderness to celebrate the wicked ways of the Prince of Secrets. Witches and conjurers— a normally solitary crowd— gather in the wilderness to carry out profane rituals, trade goods and knowledge, or try to summon the Webspinner. Frostbite spiders, who would otherwise be preparing to retreat underground for the winter, are unusually active on this day.

Details of these gatherings are poorly-attested, and they go unnoticed by most folks apart from reports of mysterious lights in the woods or low chanting in the distance. However, for those seeking out curses and other dark magics, these gatherings provide a reliable, albeit risky, location for finding a willing witch to fulfill their request.

[girl-by-the-seashore]

I did not mean to be the daughter that left. Or, I guess I thought it would be different - I have been dreaming of going abroad all by myself for years. I wanted to leave. At the time, my grandmother's musings of "well, sometimes it's nice to stay home, you've travelled and lived on your own, you might like staying home" fell on deaf - or, defiant - ears. I was going to go far and I was going to do great things.

The greatest thing I have ever done and will ever do is be her granddaughter, my grandfather's granddaughter, my parents' daughter.

In the end, I didn't go as far as 13-year-old me had hoped. I'd had dreams of Europe, or, at the very least, the other coast of the country. I worked so hard to be able to do it, dragged myself through hell to protect the opportunities my parents had given me to chase my dreams. When I got there, when it came time to make my choice.... I realized I didn't want it anymore. What I wanted was to be less than a day's travel from my family. I wanted to prioritize my home, the local communities that raised me. And so I left, a medium jump from my original dreams but big enough to get the independence I still so desperately wanted. I left so that I could learn, and grow, and come home with the tools I needed to ensure a home for the generations to come.

My family descended on my new home for thanksgiving and I received them joyfully. There was over 20 of us, plus three dogs, crowded around two massive tables covered with pumpkins, gourds, fall leaves, candles, and heaps and heaps of food. We shared our gratitude for one another, sobbing over the pain of change - we are so far dispersed now, and you can only share so much of your life over email. My grandmother's memory is going now, but she always recognizes me. I have a reminder set in my phone to message her every four days - I send her a photo of myself or whatever I've gotten into, a short update of my day. I live so far away now, but I can't let her forget me. I think it would kill me.

I drove my parents to the airport in the car that I bought for myself. My parents hugged me tightly and told me they were proud of me. I didn't cry until they walked away. They'd gotten me to the point of being capable to live the life I wanted, and I didn't want them to see me cry over how much chasing that life hurt. I drove myself home. I played my music on my radio. I returned to my apartment that I had decorated with my roommates, who had added more fall decorations since I'd been home last, who were cooking in the kitchen and filling our home with wonderful scents. I wrote my to-do list for the week, filled with school assignments that excited me and tasks for a job that I adored. I realized I had indeed built a life here, I had a family of my own choosing, I had things keeping me here. I wanted to stay. My heart was breaking over the distance from my parents, from my grandmother and her fading memory, and my grandfather and his dedicated kindness. But I was in the right place for myself.

I resented my sister when she left. I couldn't imagine how she could leave our family. Ironically, I moved to the same city she did at the time, although she was long gone from it. She had told me I would love it. It is a funny pattern, how I keep thinking my family doesn't know what is best for me. They know me better than anyone, and they routinely correctly identify what will be the best choice.

I really didn't mean the daughter that left. I listen to Noah Kahan's "You're Gonna Go Far" and I sob with the pain of the juxtaposition of leaving my loved ones while simultaneously loving the life I've built for myself, the life that is only the possible because of the opportunities my parents and grandparents made for me.

I think, at the end of the day, I just thought I had more time. I think I thought my grandparents would always be the same - I could go as far as I wanted, then come home and they would still be here. I was okay to leave if I knew they would be waiting for me when I came back. Leaving, knowing my grandmother wouldn't be the same when I came home next, that dementia would continue to take her from us, was a much, much harder choice. Many days I still don't feel like it was the right one, but I know it would hurt her more for me to sacrifice the life I wanted because of her. I can know that and regret every moment I've missed with her at the same time.

Grief only exists with love. We can't stop time from continuing. I can't return my grandmother's memories. I can only do my best to honour my family's hard work by making choices that give me a well-lived life.

Image ID: a black and white photo taken through the windshield of a white car. The street is lined with trees that are bare of leaves.

[blackwldcw]

They awake to the sound of singing. A soft and mournful tune, more of a spell really. Melantha would sing it to them whenever they'd get hurt.

Melantha. The train of delegates. The ceremony.

Their eyes fly open. The muscles in their abdomen tense in a feeble attempt to help them rise, but a wave of pain, and a gentle hand, stays them. With a groan, they fall back into their nest, panting.

Nest?

Their eyes dart around the room in an attempt to make sense of their surroundings. They’re in a medical bay, one of the private ones Starscream makes use of in Iacon's upper district, but instead of laying on a metal slab, they find that they're suspended, gently hammocked, in a web made from another's silk.

Familiar golden eyes stare down at them.

"Mel?" they rasp, throat dry from lack of use and moisture.

She gently shushes them and rests the back of her long black digits against a violet cheek. "I thought we'd lost you again," she intones in their native tongue.

It surprises Blackarachnia, how easily they can slip back into it despite having spoken neo-cybex and nothing but for the last four million years. "What happened? Why are you still here?" They pale. "Is Starscream alright? Is spark zero?" They list off a few more names, before Melantha lays a finger to their lips.

"Rest. Speak only when necessary. I will explain."

It, apparently, was a very poorly planned assassination, and one that was in very poor taste. He was swiftly disarmed and apprehended, but not before one shot left the barrel. It was meant for the Lord Chancellor, but it hit them instead.

Scalpel helped stabilise them for transport while Kalamity placated the crowds, and Melantha and Akantha had been taking turns giving them some herbal remedies and helping them feel comfortable.

“That rusty blade doesn't know everything about us, you know," Melantha adds with a soft huff.

Blackarachnia’s hackles rose. "Yes,” they retort with a glare, “but he's defended me in situations far more dangerous than this. And he is my tribe-brother."

Melantha's eyes widen with understanding. "The marking of the Web on his arm... our language—“

"He has undergone the rite. I had no doubt that he would take care of me. You, however--" Their scarlet eyes peer into the other's own. "Why seek me out now? Why stay? After Chela's death, after my own flight, I thought you'd be furious."

Melantha smiles sadly. "Do you think so little of me?"

"Tch. Well, you were always Mother's favourite."

A flinch, but the elder says nothing. She merely offers a gourd full of something sweet-smelling. Blackarachnia wants to refuse out of spite, but their throat hurts too much for that. They take an experimental sip before taking a few larger gulps. Nectar. A delicacy from their hive-dwelling cousins. Also a surefire way to ease any aching throat.

"Why stay?" Blackarachnia murmurs, wiping the back of their mouth with their inner wrist.

Melantha sighs, secondary legs twitching. "Perhaps... to atone. You were always the strongest and bravest of us, Pro-- Blackarachnia. You stood up to Mother. You reached for the stars. You gave of yourself for the betterment of others, while I-- well, I was terrified, even of getting between her and you.

I heard your cries in the cave, after she dragged you away from the festivities— the festivities held in your honour. I made up my mind to run away with you that day, but when I snuck away, you were already gone. I thought she had killed you, despite her claims. I-I mourned you. Every day."

Their expression darkens. "You could have sought me out after that. I know the tribe witnessed Chela's death. I saw you all skulking."

"Mother was gravely ill, and Venatrix named me her new successor. I had to help calm our people first. I had my responsibilities, and you had yours."

"I do not require responsibilities for happiness or fulfillment. I require connection, and I thought you had severed ours."

"It was not my intention." Melantha glances down at their injured side, fully stitched and wrapped now. Her lips purse. "I should have been a better sister. I realise that now."

Blackarachnia wants to say 'too little, too late' or something along those lines, but they're too tired. The ceremony hadn't gone as planned, and rather than being furious at the assailant, they find themself embarrassed. If they had worn armour, if they had ran through the crowd instead of around it, if they had done anything else-- They would have been able to prove to Melantha that Cybertronians were more than just a quarrelsome and war-mongering race.

Although… if the vases of native flowers and vials of innermost energon are any indication of how much space they take up in Cybertronian sparks, perhaps their sister already knows.

"So, what now? You've apologised. I've acknowledged it." Not accepted it. Not yet. "Will you go back to hiding in the dark?"

A tear traces the outline of Melantha's cheek, and their expression softens slightly. "No. I will do what I should have done aeons ago. Stand by you. Myself and all of us. That is... if you will have me."

Blackarachnia stares at her outstretched hand and then, slowly, grasps it. Melantha brings their fingers to her lips and then, choking back a sob, holds it to her cheek.

[secondhandmckie]

@savedpeople | (continued from x)

“See? I told you we have fun around here!”

It’s not every day that Negan spends a significant amount of time hanging out in the area of the Sanctuary where the workers reside, but the gardeners have finally harvested the pumpkins from the small but surprisingly successful pumpkin patch Negan requested, and he took a couple for himself and one other very lucky someone.

“Work hard, play hard as they say,” he continues as he works on cutting the top off his pumpkin. “And from what I’ve heard, you have been busting ass lately. And that is exactly the kind of shit I like to hear.”

There’s a loose crowd gathering around the table where they sit across from each other, though one “now I know you all have work to do” later and they start to disperse. “– Anyway, so I thought, why not have a little one-on-one to get to know you better, make sure everything’s good with you. I mean, there are other one-on-one activities I can think of that would be way more fun” – He pauses to flash her a grin, chuckling deeply before he resumes scooping out pumpkin innards, fucking gross – “but this is a close second. Be honest, didn’t think you would ever find yourself carving pumpkins again after the world went to shit, right? But here we are. You’re welcome. I’m fucking amazing at this, by the way.”

There wasn’t much that she’d heard when it came to the Sanctuary. Perhaps a passing word here or there within a couple of groups she’d flitted between as she worked her way north. There had only been the tone--like speaking aloud about the group, these...Saviors, would cause them to suddenly appear and bring holy hell down on their heads. Always three names together; Sanctuary. Saviors. Negan.

For the most part, Molly had kept to herself since she’d arrived. Been friendly enough without leaving herself too open for potential tricks or betrayal...been smart enough to keep her head down and earn her way until she decided whether or not it was worth sticking around. It was a small checklist she worked through each morning until her head hit the thin pillow at night. Things she needed to do, things she wanted to find...

Carving pumpkins had, admittedly, not been anywhere on her list. About that he’d been correct.

Apparently keeping her nose down and working her way through had earned her an audience with the big boss...which was precisely what she’d wanted to avoid. But when the man himself approached with the gourds, Molly’d gotten the sensation that saying no wasn’t really a thing here. So, she sat across from him, making quick work of the pumpkin’s top and for the most part, biting her tongue. She was very proud of her self-restraint. He talked enough for the both of them, after all.

When Negan paused, Molly sensed he was waiting for her to reply. Perhaps faun a little. While that was out of the question, she offered a noncommittal sort of smile. Behave, she reminded herself. “You’re...very kind to take the time to do this with me.” She replied after a moment. “I guess I’m just a little surprised that you would, is all...busy as you are. If you did this for everyone that did their job, you’d be outta pumpkins.”

[dogpastra]

oh holy shit how did this thread get this long oh god oh fuck i need to write for the potluck uhhh

pretend im not late. hi heres my addition also (ft pony alex (rusty gourd) and base sitcom alex)

With most of what Rusty understood, they figured they should've been more on-edge than they currently were.

The tall pony was used to looking up to see other ponies now, after they'd met Filch and found themselves quickly outmatched in height. However, not even the magical beast could hold a candle to the casual stature of the creatures now surrounding them on all sides- strange, and oddly bipedal. And the nature of the meeting, too, was food for thought they'd been quietly picking apart to themselves alone.

Everypony here had supposedly brought their "Alex" to "work," and Rusty was decidedly one such Alex. The tone and demeanor of the rest of the others (...Alexi? Alex-es...?) were a perfect match for Rusty's own line of thinking. Mostly. The strangest thing was needing to accept that being a pony was out of the ordinary- that it was a difference notable enough to bring them into the mix. It was their unique branding, almost.

Rusty had decided to spend most of their time quietly listening to the strange chatter of the... Creatures, for lack of a better term, and the conversations were worth listening to, from their perspective. Despite the chipper, familiar demeanor and tone, they were talking about Eastridge. Eastridge- and veldigun, and the facility, and Dr. Lankmann- (well- Lankmarre, as Rusty could put two and two together for who each name referred to. There weren't many, it was just odd that they were different.) All names everypony was far too familiar with for comfort- including their own. The sheer amount of detail each knew was, as Rusty continued to think, incredibly disturbing- talking about things from detached, yet brutally impactful decisions made by themselves. And they were all so eerily casual. The slightest slight against any of them could very well mean their flimsy ire could be cast onto Rusty themselves with barely as much as a second thought.

"...Can you speak?"

The question broke Rusty's train of thought as they blinked, half-realizing they hadn't closed their eyes for a few minutes straight while staring down the crowd. They looked over- er, then up, at the Alex that had approached them. "Sorry- what?"

"Oh- sorry, well, I just wasn't expecting one of me to be a horse. So. I wasn't sure." They nearly stumbled over the words, quickly trying to backtrack and give reason to the question.

"...None taken," Rusty reassured them, "I'm Rusty, by the way. Nice to... Meet you...?"

The Alex paused, before the tension in their shoulders dropped. "Oh my god, this is so awkward. This whole place is insane."

"I know, right?!"

"Maybe I didn't want to know about a fucking- greater multiverse we were all somehow connected to. Is that so bad? I don't know, it feels like my privacy's been breached six times over and then some- I don't," They laughed, "It feels like I'm some part of an exclusive secrets club, and not by choice! I didn't need to know there were so many people watching me!"

Rusty nodded, noting Alex had been probably wanting to say that for a while, now, to anyone who'd listen. "Finally, somepony gets it."

Alex blinked. "Some- pony? Like, somebody? Is everyone, just, a horse where you're from?"

Rusty opened, then, closed their jaw for a moment, trying to decide on what to say. "...Yeah, I guess so."

"...Is that the only difference?"

"I... Don't know. I think so, anyways. I mean, I've been listening for a while... I'm still friends with Brushwick- Mortimer, I work at the facility, I- see all the hallucinations from Smiling Snatch and- and hear them, too, and..." They looked down at their front legs, where dark markings had started to fade in, before lifting their head to scan the room for various Alex-es, a lot of whom were already cloaked in shadows and green stripes. "...And that. I'm starting to turn into... One of them, I think. Uh, is there anything I missed?"

"...No, I think that's about it so far for me, too... Except I haven't turned, but, I think that's just my difference."

Rusty nodded, looking away for a moment. "I think that's a better difference to have, all things considered."

The air was quiet between them, for a bit, as Alex looked around for a moment before deciding to make their presence a little more grounded by sitting down next to the other, crossing their legs. Rusty, now letting the silence hold, as it wasn't uncomfortable, followed Alex's example.

"I've heard in passing that it's not supposed to hurt. Er, the transformation, that is."

"...Yeah?"

"Yeah, close proximity to Clyde- er, your Snatcher, is supposed to stabilize it, and help it go smoothly. I'm still kind of- I don't know, bewildered at how all these people that are supposed to be me, look so..."

"So...?"

"So- alien. Most of them looked like me at some point- in fact, I'm the starting point, and yet..." Alex frowned. "I don't want to change like that. It's possible, but I don't- I don't want to stop being human. I don't want to kill people as a veldigun- I don't want to become a veldigun or whatever a falsie is. Sure, Clyde does, but I'm not Clyde. I don't want to be like Clyde, I just..."

"You won't be."

"...Are you just saying that, or...?"

"No, no, I'm being serious." Rusty cleared their throat. "You won't be a veldigun. Not in the way that you're, describing as it being like losing yourself, I don't think. I mean, if all the others started as you, then you still need to be yourself first, right?"

"I guess so..."

"And you'll still carry that base you wherever you go- it's in you, it's part of you. I... Think it's part of us. Even if I stop looking like myself, I'll still be me, just... Different on the outside. In a different place. And with a different outlook- but, what's important is that won't leave me. It'll never leave me. And- if we're more similar than not, then... It won't leave you, either."

Alex was quiet for a moment, before a smile brought itself up on their face.

"...Yeah. Thanks, Rusty, I... Think I needed that."

The two rested in the quiet, for a time, listening to the idle conversations carry on with varying degrees of worrying detail.

"...Can we be friends?" Rusty asked, looking over at Alex.

"Sure. I don't see why not," they answered.

Take Your Alex To Work

Day

Today was supposed to be a normal day for Alex. Spring was in the air and the other Veldiguns had woken up from their hibernation. Alex was just sitting outside on the porch, enjoying their last moments of peace and quiet for the year. They sat in their beloved rocking chair, listening to the birds. Unfortunately, those peace wouldn’t last long.

A loud thud and groan caught the Veldigun off guard. Ears swiveling to where the noise was, Alex hopped off the chair and ran to where the noise was. Branches tugged at their legs as they ran into the shrubbery. “I need to trim these plants,” Alex growled to themselves. Then, they heard some soft murmurs.

Alex froze in their place as they saw a weird looking creature stand up. She looked like an anthropomorphic displacer beast. Grey fur covered her muzzle and paw-like fingers. A tuff of grey fur puffed from the tip of her tail. Two tentacle heads were attached to her shoulders and they seemed to have a mind of their own. She wore torn up jeans and a black hoodie with red sleeves and a red hood. Plush devil horns were also on the hood.

Alex had no idea what to do. This was clearly not a Veldigun, but they have never seen a displacer beast before. The strange creature looked at them before shaking her head. “Ah! Just the person who I wanted to see!” Alex took a few steps back. “Wha-What do you mean?” The creature tilted their head before smiling, showing sharp, silver teeth. “Oh where are my manners? I’m Silver! Silver Tooth.”

This only confused the poor Veldigun even more. “I’m…Alex. I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?” Silver’s ears slicked back. “I’m here to take you to work with me.” Alex furrowed their brows. “Work? I’m an artist for my partner’s novels.” The displacer beast chuckled. “I mean my work. All the creators have an office we go to. This is actually my first day. It’s also “Take your Veldigun Alex to work day.”

Alex couldn’t help but gasp softly. “Does that mean…you made me?” Silver nodded. “Try not to take it all in. Just try to relax.” Breathing became difficult for Alex as they tried to speak. “Relax? How am I supposed to relax?! I don’t even know if I’m real!” Silver waved her large paws. “You are real, buddy! Just come with me. There are others just like you.” Alex looked up at her. “Just like me?” Silver nodded. “Yeah! Just take my paw and this will be over with soon.”

Not wanting to argue anymore, Alex gently took the displacer beast’s paw. Then, they were suddenly at a strange office building in the middle of nowhere. A strong sense of nausea resting in both of their stomachs. “Please…tell me there’s water here.” Alex huffed weakly. “Don’t worry, bud. There is.” Let’s just go inside.” The two of them sheepishly walked into the building prepared to face whatever may greet them.

It is your turn to write a segment on this story! Have fun!

[vulpes-fennec]

Pumpkin Fields Forever (Part 5) 🎃

Summary: Where are all the pumpkins? On the lake, of course! Elain and Lucien’s eventful day ends with floating pumpkin lanterns. Also, Happy Halloween! 

**I got inspired by the Elucien Tangled-inspired fanart by hachandraws (commissioned by @cascadingmoon) [Tumblr] [IG] and wanted to make a fall eco-friendly alternative for our nature-loving couple.**

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3

“I want to visit the pumpkin field before leaving,” Elain announced, breaking the silent spell. Farmers milled around the faelight-lit pumpkin field, snipping gourds off the vine for those who were purchasing. 

Elain didn’t realize just how many pumpkin varieties existed: dusty gray, orange, white, knobbly green, yellow…she took note of the spacing, the type of dirt, the drainage system, and the pruning. Perhaps growing vegetables would be her new project after she mastered the herb garden! It was only when Lucien tapped her shoulder that Elain realized she was crouching on the ground in her inspection, getting her orange dress dirty. 

He pointed to the lake at the edge of the festival grounds. Small lights floated on the inky black surface. Elain squinted, pushing her Fae senses to their limit. She gasped. “Are those…floating lanterns?!?” Elain took off for the lake excitedly, oblivious to Lucien’s affectionate smile at her bright expression. 

“Ohh, look! They’re made of pumpkins!” she cried. A booth by the water was selling mini pumpkins that had been hollowed out and fitted with small beeswax candles. Lucien elbowed Elain good-naturedly as she eagerly fished for her coin purse, but he did not object to her paying for two pumpkin lanterns. 

Elain protectively cradled her pumpkin in the palm of her hand. A small crowd had gathered on the boat dock to light and launch pumpkins into the lake. Amren, Varian, Mor, and Emerie were all standing there with their pumpkins. Elain frowned in disappointment. “Shall we launch the pumpkins over there?” Lucien asked, gesturing to the secluded end of the lake. 

“Alright.” Elain couldn’t believe she readily agreed. Single ladies and gentlemen were not to be alone together, unless they were courting, and dark corners were certainly forbidden. But the Fae have different rules, and it’s not TOO dark with the moon out, she tried to convince herself.

Elain and Lucien picked over shrubs and rocks with their pumpkins in hand. When Lucien finally undid the bun holding his hair, Elain was entranced by the red, wavy locks falling over the sides of his chiseled face. The moon’s muted light still cast a faint radiance that made his hair seem like liquid fire.  

“There’s a wooden bench we can sit on over there,” Lucien suggested. The lights of the festival were far away, the only sounds being the rustling wind and lapping water. Elain gingerly sat down. We are truly alone out here. Her concerns were not of wild animals lurking nearby, but of how the male would have her undivided attention.

“Is something wrong?” Lucien asked, concerned. Elain stared down at her mini pumpkin, panicking at his straight-forward question. Yes, something is wrong! She wanted to shout into the night. I allow myself half a day with you and now I don’t want this night to end. And I don’t WANT to feel that way…

Especially when I don’t know if you entertained my whims today simply because I’m the advantage you have over the Inner Circle. And I’m confused about how you feel towards me, what you think of me… 

Chaotic thoughts typically triggered Elain’s habit to hide. To make herself as small as possible, to avoid dealing with the thoughts and emotions. But if she managed to be somewhat functional in Lucien's presence today, perhaps she was also capable of confronting other issues with him. “I don’t know how to trust you.” Her voice was a nauseated whisper. 

Lucien’s neutral countenance shifted to alarm. “I shouldn’t have taken you so far out, we can go back—”

“No, it’s not that,” Elain quickly said. “It’s because you’re an emissary. A courtier. You know how to manipulate people.” 

“So you think I’m manipulating you,” Lucien ventured slowly. 

“No! Well, a bit.” Frustration stung at Elain’s nose, threatening tears. How am I supposed to explain myself!?! How does he always misread the simplest things while understanding my complexities? Nevertheless, she continued. “When you bought me that pear crumble…I was confused. Whether you were acting by the mating bond or whether you were being kind. I wanted to believe the latter. But then y-you sprang those questions at me, and it made me think you gave me the dessert to soften me up before you could—” her voice rose higher with hysteria. 

“Oh gods, no,” Lucien sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean to interrogate you, my lady. I impulsively asked the questions because I was curious. You were willfully oblivious to your own feelings. It had nothing to do with the pear crumble…I got it because—” he blushed “—I thought it would make you happy.” 

Giddy warmth soothed some of Elain’s anxiety. “So you weren’t being nice to me…to provoke me later? Or to gain information on the Night Court?” 

“I do like to tease people, but if you don’t want me to do that to you…”

“No, that’s alright. I mean…I don’t mind your teasing, I suppose.” Elain looked away awkwardly. People hardly ever teased sweet Elain. They were only nice, courteous…and often boring. Sure, Lucien was a bit infuriating earlier, but his teasing made her blood run hot. In a good way.

“Well then. You’ve given me the stamp of approval to tease you mercilessly,” he smirked. Elain allowed a small smile, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Lucien’s voice then grew serious. “I may tease you, but I would never manipulate you, Elain.” 

Elain shuddered slightly at the sound of her name in his rich voice. Not “my lady”, but “Elain”. The first time he’s ever said my name. “Alright,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to t-think badly of you.”    

“Don’t feel bad. I’d rather you be honest with me than be stressed trying to spare my feelings.” He said I was willfully oblivious…is he referring to my avoidance of the mating bond as well? He doesn’t want me to spare his feelings…so does he want me to reject the bond because he THINKS that’s what I want…or because he doesn’t want ME as his mate?

The relief she felt from their conversation about trust evaporated into anxiety. “A-are you referring to the m-mating bond?” she stammered. How does Nesta just bluntly say things left and right…I feel sick trying to talk about this. Being agreeable and keeping situations light is SO much easier. 

Lucien hesitated, his gaze darting between her face and his hands. “I don’t want to ruin the night,” he muttered. Frustration bubbled up in Elain. The one time I try to put a foot forward with him, he takes a step back. Was this what it felt like to interact with me during the last two years? 

“Who’s sparing whose feelings now?” she tried to tease, but her voice was shaky. Please respond, please respond, please… 

Lucien gave her a wry smile and cast his eyes towards the night sky. “Alright, you got me there.” His metal eye expanded and narrowed as he considered how to phrase his following words. “I thought today was a massive improvement from the last few years, but I don’t want you to feel…obligated to be around me. And if we are being honest, well…your concerns are valid. I struggle to differentiate between what’s real and what’s caused by the bond.” 

Real or fake, Elain thought sadly. He knows what’s real because he loved Jesminda so dearly. And Graysen…my love for him was real too. Unlike my sisters and their mates, Lucien and I are stuck comparing each other to our past loves. “Me too,” Elain confessed. “Differentiating between real emotions and the mating bond.” Lucien looked at her, surprised. 

“Give me an example?” he asked. 

Elain bowed her head, hoping her curls shielded her flaming face. There were too many moments, each more embarrassing than the last. But now that I think about it, the mating instincts have been quiet for the majority of the day. I only felt it when I was at the petting zoo and when I was playing the game. The realization that the majority of her thoughts and feelings were her own was discomfiting. “When I was playing the toadstool game…I was angry about Amarantha,” she explained. “I was furious, but it felt more than that? Like the bond had intensified my feelings and senses.” 

“What did you feel?” Lucien pressed.

Elain shuddered. “I wanted to destroy her for hurting you.” 

Lucien’s expression was guarded. “No one has ever fought her for me,” he said, more to himself than to Elain. “Even your sister only gave up her name and completed Amarantha’s horrid tasks because my life was held hostage.” 

Elain was aghast. “I didn’t know that,” she whispered. She thought Amarantha had only taken out Lucien’s eye. The Hybern general was more sadistic than she’d initially thought, seeking to harm her mate again and again Under the Mountain. The idea that he’d come so close to death before she even met him…angry tears threatened to spill over her doe brown eyes, but she clamped them down. “But what if it’s just the bond talking? Does that invalidate the act for you?”

Lucien took a moment to respond. “You said the bond had intensified your feelings and senses, so if you were already angry at Amarantha for what she did to me, then there is some grain of truth in the act.” His eyes perked up. “Besides, I thought you looked quite impressive smashing the toadstools. And that’s not the bond talking.” His full lips quirked in the corner as he looked at Elain. 

Was this what he meant by teasing me mercilessly? Does that include flirting? The gears in Elain’s head screeched to a halt at Lucien’s moonlit perfection and crooked mouth. She clutched her pumpkin tightly, trying to contain her nerves.  

Lucien gestured to her pumpkin with his own. “Want to launch these now?” He got up, walking to the edge of the water where dark waves brushed at the shore. 

Elain started. “We don’t have any matches!” 

Lucien chuckled. “You’re with somebody who has fire powers and you’re worried about matches?” He lifted his calloused hand, and a tiny orange flame leapt to life from his index finger. Elain gasped in appreciation; this was his first display of powers in front of her. She was fascinated by the orange and yellow hues dancing harmlessly on his tanned skin. “Come here,” Lucien said in a soft voice that sent delicious tingles down her spine.

Elain crept closer, allowing him to dip his flame into her pumpkin. It was real fire—she could feel the heat emanating from the candle. For a moment they both stood, pumpkins in hand, basking in the warm glow. Elain inhaled his scent, the fresh apple and soft earthiness of dried leaves. She noticed Lucien was doing the same thing to her, though he was trying to keep it discreet. The notion that a male was trying to smell her would’ve sent Elain fleeing, but right now, she was wrapped up in how Lucien’s scent made her feel safe and heady.

Lucien broke away abruptly to set his pumpkin on the water. Elain blinked, reeling at the loss of his solid presence near her. “Don’t push me in,” he warned teasingly, not looking up at Elain. 

His teasing brought out the mischievous side of Elain, for she primly replied, “I wouldn’t dream of doing that…for now.” Elain crouched down and gave her pumpkin a slight push to get it going on the lake. 

The two of them sat back down on the bench, though Elain kept a foot-long distance between her and Lucien. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the bite of the autumn night through her dress. 

“Are you cold?” Lucien asked. 

“Yes, but I’ll be alright,” Elain assured. Give me your jacket, give me your jacket, she mentally chanted. Of course, a lady would never demand a man give her his jacket. So she could only stare at the lake silently and wait for him to offer it to her. To her disappointment, Lucien did not put his burgundy jacket over her shoulders. But a few moments later, she felt the air around her warm precipitously to a comfortable heat. 

Elain looked around in wonder. “It’s a warming spell,” Lucien explained. “I’m the only one in my family who’s able to perform these spells.” There was a hint of a cocky brag in his tone, but Elain didn’t mind. His family, with the exception of his mother and Eris, treated him like shit. It serves them right that Lucien has special gifts. 

“I like it,” Elain commented. She allowed herself to glance at the male sitting beside her, feeling her heart skip a beat. Lucien caught her gaze and held it, the long scar and intricate golden eye lending to his otherworldly beauty. 

Elain understood the myriad ways men and women employed discreet glances and gentle manners in human courtship. In fact, she and Graysen had danced around the pillars of social propriety before falling in love. 

This was different. The tension between her and Lucien was thick, like honey. His scent still making her head spin, his eyes shining bright in the moonlight. And her heart beat so fast Elain was sure he could hear it. Lucien kept a respectful distance, but his face was filled with such longing and softness that it made her throat close up with emotion. Please, let it be his true feelings, Elain prayed to the Mother. Not the bond.

Elain’s eyes traveled to the uneven lock of hair that hung over his broad shoulder. She inexplicably reached out and touched it. Lucien’s hair may have looked like fire, but it was cool and silky to the touch. He shivered slightly when Elain’s slender fingers brushed it, just inches from actually touching his shoulder. “Lucien,” she said slowly, her pink lips forming the shape of his name. “Thank you…for spending the day at the festival with me.” 

“There’s no need to thank me, my lady,” he said gruffly, trying not to let too much emotion show. “Though I wish it didn’t come at the cost of my hair.”

Elain gave the stuffed sheep plush in his lap a little tap on the head. “These pesky sheep.” She smiled down at it. 

“I liked how you were really good with Daniela earlier,” Lucien said admiringly. 

She shrugged. “It’s the least I could do while you were fixing my mistake.” She paused and said, “What you said earlier about me feeling obligated to be around you. It’s true…I was…u-uncomfortable for a while.” She gulped nervously, clenching her fist. “I’m more comfortable after getting to know you today, b-but…I don’t want to mislead you…I still don’t k-know what to do with bond. I’m sorry.” The incoherent words were necessary honesty, but Elain felt horrible for putting more distance between them. She hung her head. 

Lucien wore an expression of simple understanding. “Please don’t apologize, my lady. I know you’re telling me not to get my hopes up. I also need time to sort out my feelings...” He trailed off, trying to gauge Elain’s reaction. Elain was pleasantly surprised at how Lucien was taking her hesitation in stride. She’d expected him to be upset, frustrated, or even sad. So she nodded encouragingly. “I suppose we are both very confused,” Lucien continued, “But regardless of what the future holds, I thought today was fun. And it’s safe to say you’re not as much of a stranger as before.” He smiled broadly at her. 

“Likewise,” Elain replied, glowing at Lucien’s pure expression with a smile of her own. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile like that, and a selfish part of her wanted to be the reason for it. 

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching as their two pumpkins floated out to join the congregation of other lanterns on the lake. The Harvest Festival lights glittered on the other side of the lake, the night was crisp, and she was content. 

Later that night

Lucien winnowed back to the Band of Exiles manor silently, bypassing the intricate network of wards he’d set up. He had just winnowed Elain back to the River House in Velaris, making sure she’d safely entered and closed the door before leaving. He had been tempted to stay in his dusty apartment, but decided against it. As if Elain would be that eager to see him again so soon. Keep expectations low, and you won’t be disappointed. That had been his mantra for most of his life. Still, he couldn’t help but entertain the bud of hope that maybe, just maybe, Elain was open to him. As a mate, a friend, or just another Fae—he didn’t care.  

The icy cold water of his bath failed to keep him from replaying Elain’s giggles in his head. In the almost three years he’d known her, Elain had only offered the barest of smiles in his presence. So even though her laughter was at his expense, Lucien resolved to tease her mercilessly and snarkily crack jokes just to hear it again. 

Lucien flopped onto his bed, holding the sheep plush against his bare chest. Is it creepy if I cuddle this stuffed animal thinking it’s Elain, Lucien contemplated. Yes. Yes, it is. His mind drifted to how beautiful she looked in her creamy orange dress, her brown waves long and loose, her eyes bright and assessing. She was especially charming when she had gotten a bit dirty inspecting the pumpkin field. Lucien hadn’t allowed himself to appreciate her beauty at the Harvest Festival, lest she scent his arousal and run away screaming. 

Lucien tossed and turned, trying to lull himself to sleep. It was unlike him to be so unsettled. He’d met plenty of females before, had courted and bedded them in all ways imaginable. It was different with Elain, though. Most beautiful female I have ever seen. But it was evident today that her beauty was more than surface level: she was beautiful in how she empathetically chatted with Daniela, how she tried to understand the intricacies of gardening and baking, and how she wanted to defend him. 

The last few years, Lucien had mulled over the mating bond with literal crumbs of information he’d gleaned from Feyre and awkward interactions with his mate. Because I barely knew Elain, every feeling I felt, every thought I had of her felt shaky, built on forced mate instincts and speculation. But now. Now that he’d seen the female, understood the good and the bad, his heart only warmed towards her. 

The bond in his chest hummed and glowed. Lucien yawned. It had been a long day. As he drifted off to sleep, hugging the sheep plush, his thoughts were only of Elain. My mate. I am yours, I am yours…

***

Elain had let out an unladylike screech the moment she walked through the front door of the River House. And Mor was standing in the front foyer with a wine glass in hand and a scrutinizing expression. Elain had mumbled an embarrassed “Hello, Mor” before dashing up the stairs to her room. 

She’d gotten ready for bed in a daze, replaying the events of the day in her head. Lucien struggling with the sheep. Lucien reliably leading them out of the corn maze. Lucien’s unmatched skill at darts, but also his clumsiness with the toadstools. 

Her skin burned as hot as his flame when she recalled the way his broad shoulders hovered over her, or how his muscles flexed in his jacket when he threw the darts. Or how his genuine smile made her feel on top of the world. The images burned into her memory. 

It wasn’t just Lucien’s looks or mannerisms, though she’d always known the male was courteous. He was humble, based on his interactions with others who were in awe of him. He seemed to keep his personal problems to himself, like her. But when she opened up to him, Elain felt much better. Like she was being heard. 

It’s like he genuinely cares about me and wouldn’t hurt me. Elain felt the sun pendant weigh on her chest, warm against the beating of her heart. But I need to wait. I gave Graysen my heart too soon and look what happened. Any male would put on his best face in the pursuit of a “worthy” female, just to abandon them after conquest. 

Elain finished brushing her hair and got into her comfy bed, hugging her large stuffed bear. It was perhaps a childish purchase during the postwar months, but the bear’s soft body soothed her during sleepless nights. The autumn night was chilly; Lucien’s ability to create warm air pockets would be handy right now. 

What if…what if I pretend the bear is Lucien? Elain’s breathing picked up as she dared to imagine what it would be like to snuggle in a bed with Lucien. Preferably with his spells—or his body—keeping her toasty warm. Oh gods, she buried her head against the bear. I am undeniably attracted to Lucien Vanserra. Aaaahhhh!!! I can’t jump to conclusions. He’s just a handsome male. Doesn’t mean that I like him, or love him. I need to gauge our next interaction carefully, to make sure it’s not just the bond speaking, Elain resolved. 

Surely he would come to the Solstice party this year. But that was three months away, and far too long to wait. Maybe he would give his weekly emissary reports in Rhysand’s office instead of sending them by letter. Or he could visit Velaris on a whim—he had an apartment here, right?

Gentle waves of sleep began to overtake her. A thread, golden and alive, pulsed inside her chest with the beating of her heart. Before her eyes closed, Elain could’ve sworn she reached for the shimmering bond. 

And that’s a wrap! If you’ve stuck it out towards the end of my very first fanfic, I appreciate you beyond words. I hope the ending wasn’t too much of a let down. I tried to keep this pretty canon-compliant with Elain and Lucien’s personalities, and as much as I love to see them make out in a corn maze or kiss goodbye, I suspect the two angsty lovers wouldn’t rush into the fluff without working through emotional stuff first. But I will definitely be exploring more non-angsty ideas for Elucien in the future!

[vee-is-a-clown]

Carving pumpkins or making cookies for the Halloween prompt!

Thanks for the inspo, Katel! I hope you enjoy!

I know it didn't follow it exactly but this was the best I could do.

-----------

"I don't carve pumpkins."

"What?"

"I haven't carved a pumpkin since I was 6."

"If you think I'm gonna let you off the hook for that, you're wrong. We're doing some pumpkin carving tonight and you cannot change that fact."

Lance had pulled into their surprise date location which happened to be a pumpkin patch. Keith was serious about not carving a pumpkin since he was 6. The day after his 6th birthday, his dad decided that Keith was going to learn how to carve pumpkins. Sadly, Keith's subsequent homes didn't allow pumpkin carving. Shiro was never really into carving pumpkins and the Garrison didn't let kids carve pumpkins anyway.

It was despicable, heinous, inexcusable (if you ask Lance). He was appalled to hear the information that Keith hadn't carved a pumpkin in years. Now it would be his mission to get Keith to carve a pumpkin with him.

"I'm gonna suck at it though."

"Like I said, we're carving pumpkins tonight."

"Ok but while we're here, we're getting snacks."

"First of all, I never said that we aren't getting snacks. And second of all, the kettle corn here is really good."

Lance pointed to a quaint little stand that Keith now realized was the source of the caramel scent wafting through the air. Keith grabbed Lance's hand and walked with him over to the stalls. Lance is the one who talked to the man at the little stand while Keith stood there awkwardly, holding his hand.

"Lance! I haven't seen you in a while! Where's your family?"

"Riley! Hey! I'm only here with my boyfriend this year."

"You have a boyfriend? It feels like it was just yesterday that you and Rachel were babies. Time really does speed up when you're older."

"Yeah, it's been a while."

"So this is the boyfriend?"

Riley vaguely gestured to Keith. The old man looked kind but Keith still felt out of place. He doesn't know old people who've watched him grow up. If he does, then they aren't the type to be warm and inviting.

"Yeah, this is Keith."

Lance shuffled a little to be closer to Keith, not letting go of his hand as he did so. He looked like a proud child who just got on honor's roll. His smile could be classified as a small star with how warm it made Keith feel. Keith is hopeless.

"H-hi, um Riley"

Hopeless at a lot of things. He's a mess. Keith just stayed in his spot while Lance ordered the kettle corn, leaning his head against Lance's shoulder. He listened to them have fun, catching up, and having witty banter while Keith stood there, trying to forget the horrible first impression he just left.

They got the kettle corn and walked away, their boots clicking away on the gravel pathway. Lance started giggling as soon as they were out of earshot. The giggling turned to laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"You ate shit back there."

Keith made an indignant face. How dare Lance mock Keith's lack of social skills! Despicable. Heinous. Inexcusable. Such an evil boyfriend.

"You're so rude."

"Incorrect, I'm charming."

"That's a weird way to pronounce 'rude'."

Lance chuckled under his breath. That's when Keith struck. Keith hit him. Not hard. More like a bop. Honestly, it was funny more than anything.

Lance started laughing more.

"It's not funny!"

"Pff ahahaha, your voice cracked!"

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. You looove me."

"I thought we were here to get pumpkins."

"Yeah, we are."

"Then let's get the damn pumpkins."

They made their way past the small crowds of people who were undoubtedly families picking out pumpkins and getting fall sweets. Keith saw little kids holding candied apples and adults hauling pumpkins back to their cars. To the right, there was a large pen with pumpkins lined up in pretty rows, crates of pie pumpkins and small gourds near the entrance and exit, and a spattering of gravel covering the ground. On the left, there was a small bakery that sold apple pastries and donuts which had a canopy attached to the entire front side. Lance pulled Keith into the pen.

And thus began the torturous process of walking around, Lance holding up pumpkins, and Keith rejecting pumpkins while holding on to the kettle corn for *ahem* safety reasons.There was nothing particularly wrong with any of them but Keith wanted to be annoying. Lance was struggling to find something when he sarcasticly held up a gourd. A gourd as in one of those gourds used to create maracas.

"YES! THAT ONE!"

"You're joshing me right now."

"No, I want the gourd."

"We're not carving a gourd."

"I've already named it Gourdan Ramsay."

"Keith, no."

"Keith, yes."

"Fine but we're getting another pumpkin for you to actually carve."

"As long as we keep Gourdan, I see this as a triumph."

"Where did you even learn that from?"

"Being annoying about something and then naming it before the decision is final? Because I learned that from you."

"I don't do that."

"Last month, you found a stray cat and said that we had to foster it because you already named it Ash Ketchum."

Well he never. How could Keith do such a thing! How dare he expose Lance like that! Keith was equal parts as attached to Ash as Lance! Maybe even more!

Lance moseyed over to Keith and shoved Gourdan into Keith's hands to go grab some "carvable pumpkins". Now, looking at the gourd, it's really pretty. It has a yellow to green gradient from the bottom to the top. Perfect for brutally murdering.

Lance came back holding two medium sized pumpkins. One had a small dent in the side. The other was just slightly bigger. He smiled that warm sunny smile again like he was proud of himself.

"They're like us!"

"Huh?"

"This one's smaller and dented. I tried to find one with a cut and the dent is the best I could do. It's you."

"I see."

"This one's taller so it's me."

"And what's the point of that?"

"How could you not see the point of having pumpkin clones?"

"They'll only cause confusion in the inevitable case that we have to fight them."

"Irrelevant. It'll never happen. Pumpkin Lance would never betray me."

"That's what they all say."

"I'm going to buy the pumpkin clones whether you want them or not. Let's go."

Lance waltzed right by Keith, grabbing his arm as he walked. Not that Keith minded being dragged by Lance but the sudden tug almost knocked him over. It didn't help that he was wearing heeled boots (He likes to feel tall). He quickly readjusted and matched Lance's pace pretty quickly.

So off they went, over to the little checkout booth underneath the canopy attached to the bakery. There, they paid for the pumpkins and grabbed everything to take to the car.

The car ride was chill. It was just thirty minutes of sitting, eating kettle corn, and Lance making way too many movie references. It wasn't really any different than any other time that Keith's gotten into Lance's car.

They got back home and were able to carve the pumpkins. After this, Lance would stop bothering him about pumpkins. Instead it would be finding a suitable Halloween candy to give out. That suitable candy would be entirely Lemonheads by the way. Keith takes great pride in being evil.

They cleared off the table, set down some newspaper, and readied the pumpkins. Keith pushed his knife into the gourd.

"I didn't know you were gonna kill it!"

"I swear, If I hear another Charlie Brown reference, you're going to have to be at the end of this knife instead of Gourdan."

-------------

[mercurialrain]

Day 14: Pumpkin Patch

marinette_fashion : Can you believe he’d never tried apple cider?

“Ok, so I have a theory for how to find the best pumpkin. It has to be the right shade of orange, it has to be big enough to carve and not one of those ones that’s fine on the outside but rotting on the inside, you know?” Marinette rambled about pumpkins while Felix listened, nodding to the asked question. 

He genuinely couldn’t care less about the pumpkin they got, nor really about Halloween in general, but it made Marinette so happy that he found himself starting to like it. She’d already decorated their house within an inch of its life, stringing bats over every doorway and crowding their yard with inflatables. The only decoration he hadn’t allowed was the jack-in-the-box that operated with a motion sensor, because he knew she’d forget that she’d put it there. And when Marinette got scared, she punched. 

Hard.

“Felix! Look at how big this pumpkin is!” Marinette ran to the pumpkin in question, leaning down to pick it up. If he hadn’t known that she had superhuman strength from her stint as Ladybug back when they were high schoolers, he might have worried, but as it was, he simply smiled at her excitement. He fought back a snicker at the expressions of the other people around them watching this tiny woman pick up a pumpkin about half her size, especially the people that looked to be bitterly struggling with their much smaller pumpkins. 

“Is that the pumpkin for us, blossom?” He asked, carefully making his way over to her.

She beamed over the pumpkin. “Yup! I think that we could carve a really cool design onto this!”

“With your creative acumen, I don’t doubt it.”

They made their way out of the pumpkin patch, with Felix acting as Marinette’s eyes, given that she couldn’t see the ground over the massive pumpkin. She only tripped over two vines, but that likely would have happened anyway, so he counted it as an achievement. 

The cashier’s eyes had rounded comically when she beheld the pumpkin and who was holding it, but dutifully rang it up. The price was astronomical for the gourd and quite frankly, it felt like a scam to Felix, but he’d pay any amount of money to see the pure delight on his wife’s face. 

Once they’d loaded the pumpkin in the car, he went to the driver’s side of the car, assuming that they were leaving now that they’d gotten what they’d come for. He felt Marinette tug at his arm and turned, confused. 

“Where are you going? We still haven’t gotten any cider or food.” 

“I thought a pumpkin patch was just for picking a pumpkin?” He’d never done this before, but Marinette clearly had.

“Well, yes, but the rest of it is for after you’ve found your pumpkin and just want to enjoy your time in the fresh country air.”

“So there’s more to do?”

“Not that much more, I promise. Just one more thing you have to try, please?” She linked her arm through his and pulled him along, stopping once they reached what looked like a concessions stand. 

“Hi, can we have two apple ciders and two apple cider donuts, please?”

Once they got their apple ciders, they sat at a nearby bench and she started to drink hers, giving him a funny look when he didn’t drink his. Truthfully, he’d never had apple cider, so he was staring at it suspiciously, wondering how it would taste but not really fond of the idea of putting it in his mouth to find out. 

Marinette grinned as if she knew what he was thinking, then leaned over to kiss him. Her lips were cold from her drink and there was a strange taste in her mouth. It was sweet, but not overwhelmingly so, and it wasn’t a bad taste, in fact, he kind of liked it. 

“Wait, did you just kiss me so that I would taste the apple cider?” 

She put on a straight face, though her eyes twinkled with mirth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can’t a girl just want to kiss her husband without any ulterior motive behind it?”

“If you were normal, maybe.” He hid his smile at her dramatic outraged gasp behind his cup, hesitantly sipping his drink. Even on its own without the inherent intoxication of Marinette’s kiss he still liked it and soon the entire cup was gone.

“Now try the donut!” She pushed it towards him on the little napkin and he had to admit, it looked good. Since he’d liked the apple cider, he figured it could only be better in donut form. Not that it would match the pastries made by Marinette or her parents, but it could still be good in its own way. 

He was right, it was good. The sweetness of the apple cider flavor combined with the fluffy texture of the donut and the crunch of the sugar crystals on the outside made his taste buds dance and he quickly devoured the rest of the donut. 

Marinette had her chin on her fists, watching him try the new things with a small smile on her face. “See? Wasn’t it worth staying just a little longer?”

Felix crossed his arms, pretending to be obstinate. “I’m not entirely sure if it was.”

She rolled her eyes and came over to him, plopping herself in his lap. She held out her phone and smiled, silently telling him to do the same for a picture. He begrudgingly smiled, though the smile turned into wide eyes that quickly closed when she kissed him. He could hear the sounds of her camera shutter in the background, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

All too soon, she slipped off his lap and he stuttered after her. “H-hey! Where are you going?”

She skipped backwards out of his reach, grinning. “To the car. You’re the one that wanted to leave, aren’t you?”

“Oh no you don’t!” He ran towards her and she squealed and turned the other way, dashing towards the car. The sounds of their laughter carried on the wind as other people turned to watch, smiles growing on their faces at the sight of the young couple blissfully in love. 

[newmih]

A bit of liquid courage

Words: 1109

Characters: Minho x reader, mentions of Gally

Request: I would like to imagine about Minho, in Marcus' nightclub, the reader's best friend was Gally but like everyone else she believes him dead. With Minho they ingested Marcus' drink to find Thomas and Brenda and they find themselves half drugged confessing their feelings.

A/N: So... I find myself writing about two people confessing their feelings when it's never happened to me... so I hope it's realistic. /English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistake I made./

Masterlist

Bonne lecture

Y/N looked at the bottle handed to her by a man, looking disgusted. From what she understood, drinking the contents was the only way to get into the building and therefore to find Marcus. But she had very little desire to do so. She didn't even know what was in it and how many mouths before her had touched it. She winced at the thought. Minho, who was at her side, took the gourd and swallowed the contents. He closed his eyes and coughed violently afterwards.

The young woman observed him, wanting less and less to swallow the drink. But she had to do it, she knew. She had to find her friends. It was the only way they would have a chance to start a new life. Even if that chance was tiny, she couldn't afford to let it slip away because she refused to drink something.

Not thinking anymore, she took the bottle in turn. She felt the liquid burn her throat as it passed and tears welled up in her eyes. She thanked herself for not having smelled it before because she knew she would have thrown up directly. The foul taste would stay in her mouth for hours and she hated it. She closed her eyes to try to push through the urge to get it all out and concentrated to save herself a headache. It was nothing. She'd faced grievers before, cranks and escaped the wicked, all without dying. She was stronger than that.

She finally stood up and took Minho, who was still waiting for her, by the arm to join the rest of the group who had already entered. As she passed through the doorway, she heard the man behind them burst out laughing and she knew that this was not a good omen for them. So she tightened her grip on the former runner and continued walking.

The first thing that struck them was the foul odor that emanated from the place. They weren't sure if it was because of the people there or because of what they were eating. But something told them it was probably both. They shared a knowing look and kept moving. How to find the person they were looking for in this crowd when they didn't even know what she looked like, was the question Kyara kept asking herself. Maybe they should split up to cover as much ground as possible. She tugged on the Asian's sleeve and he leaned in to try to hear her. The music was deafening, the volume being so loud that it could be heard from outside.

-I think we should split up! It will be easier to find him!

He nodded and let go of her as she headed to the right and left. She wasn't the tallest or the most imposing so she struggled to make her way through the crowd. Someone jostled her and she fell against a wall. As she looked up, she realized that the room was spinning. Maybe she was supposed to stay on the floor after all. Still, she had no choice, and between getting run over by someone or getting back on her feet, she much preferred the second option.

The noise around her seemed to be getting louder and louder and she couldn't even hear herself think as she made her way through the party, stopping every now and then to ask someone where Marcus was. She still hadn't gotten a straight answer and was seriously losing her patience, especially since she couldn't think straight. What had that drink done to her? Several times in the glade she had drunk Gally's drink and never before had she been in this state after drinking so little. At the thought of Gally, tears welled up in her eyes. She was getting way too emotional for where she was. It was dangerous.

She spotted a chair in a corner and her confused mind asked her to sit down. So, playing with her elbows, she managed to get there and slumped on the piece of furniture which against the weight of the young woman fell to the ground. They were now two to be collapsed. Except that one was physically and the other emotionally. Memories of her life in the labyrinth came back to her without her being able to do anything about it. She felt as if she had no control over herself and that was probably the case. Why else would she be thinking about Minho right now.

She tried to compose herself. She wasn't supposed to think of him that way. She had no right. But she couldn't help it. Despite the fact that he had killed y/n's best friend she couldn't help but love him. She realized how wrong it was, but from the looks of it, you couldn't control your feelings. She wiped away the tears that had rolled down her cheeks without his advice and stood up with the help of the wall. She had to find him and tell him everything, no matter the consequences.

She stumbled a few times, almost fell, but eventually found Minho in the middle of the room. Their eyes met and she felt that what she was about to do was not a good idea but she didn't care. She rushed into the arms of the young man and without even waiting for a reaction from him embraced him as if it was her last day to live. She felt it tense during a few seconds and she was about to move back when he finally returned her kiss. He took her by the hips and brought her closer to him.

They finally broke apart and Kyara, on tiptoe, rested her forehead against the dark-haired man's.

-You don't even know how long I've wanted to do this. -Why did you never do it then?

They were so close to each other that they could hear each other despite the noise that continued around them. Yet they felt as if they were alone. Never in his life would Minho have thought that way, and yet it was so. He promised himself to stop bothering Newt and Thomas about this. He looked at the young woman in his arms and smiled sadly before answering her.

-Because I killed your best friend and there's nothing I can do to change that, ever. And it destroys me to know that the despair I saw in your eyes afterwards was because of me-

She interrupted him with a long kiss.

-Oh Minho, life is too short for that.

Maybe drinking the drink wasn't such a bad idea after all.

[tsukkismoonlight]

Hi hi! Can i request a romantic matchup for Tokyo Revengers please? :D My pronouns are she/her, i identify as a girl, im virgo, 9w1 and pansexual but I prefer to be paired with male characters. I'm 18, I love spending time alone and creating scenarios in my head, but I also don't mind spending time outside and hanging out with my friends. I don't know how to describe my personality but I'll try smwsms- I think I'm a kind and funny person, at least is how the people close to me describe me. I'm very blunt with certain things and I try to be honest; I'm not good at comforting people but I'm always happy to listen to my friends problems, and i think to be a good listener. I'm quite impulsive and goofy smwmssx, not to mention how LAZY i am lmao. I also get bored easily and I'm always daydreaming. In my free time I play video games (rhythm games/random games) or i watch YouTube videos/twitch streams/tv series, and when I'm outside I like to go shopping for clothes.

-Random info: my favourite colours are red and purple, i love dressing in good outfits, i listen to pop/jpop music but im starting to like phonk as well, i hate crowded places and i can come off as shy.

Thank you very much, i hope this amount of information is enough. Have a good day! 💛

You had already read the letter a few times, wondering just where it had come from, and who it was from. Still searching for answers, you pick it up to read it once more…

Hello hello!!! Sorry about the wait, i meant to get this out sooner !! And i feel that on the day dreaming/ creating scenarios,,, i swear its the only thing that gets me through my day sometimes 😩

I think you'd pair nicely with…

chifuyu matsuno !!!

"What about this one?"

You turn to look at Chifuyu, and at the pumpkin in his hands, taking a moment to look at the shape of the thing, before shaking your head slowly, "it's lopsided!"

"You said that about the last three pumpkins!" He sighs, carefully placing the pumpkin down where he had gotten it from, "what even makes a pumpkin perfect or not?"

"Simple, not too tall, not too short, a good round size, a warm orange color, and a good stem," you smile at him, and then focus on a particular pumpkin just off in the short distance behind him.

"A pumpkin is a pumpkin…." He grumbles, toeing the ground with his shoe for a moment before noticing you had already set off to grab the one in your sights.

You had originally asked him to come with you just to help pick out a good few of the things, wanting to decorate your little apartment for the holiday. But the whole patch was more of an attraction than it let on.

Earlier, you had bought two cups of warm cider, one for yourself and one for Chifuyu. Before that, you had dragged him through a corn maze, which he ended up having to find the way out of, as you got yourselves lost more than once.

The more that you did together, the more fun Chifuyu was having than he thought he would. Of course, he had come when you asked, simply because he needed to get out of the house, but also because he was hoping that it would be…a little more than just two friends hanging out.

Not that he'd say anything about it, he might be a blunt and honest guy, but when it came to his mushy feelings, he wasn't sure if he would ever have the guts to tell anyone about it, especially you.

"Hey! Are you listening? I said I found one!" You were suddenly by his side, large grin on your face while holding your prize, "now you just need one and we can finally go home!"

"I thought we were picking ones for you?"

"Yeah well, i can't let you go home empty handed, now can I?" You pause, shuffling around your pumpkin so that you're carrying it with one arm, and then with your now free hand, you take his in yours and start to pull him along.

He could feel his face heat up, even just the innocence in taking his hand in yours, to drag him somewhere, made his heart do flips.

This continued until you found him the perfect pumpkin, though not as perfect as yours of course. And now that you both had your gourds, you finally let go of his hand, and pulled out your phone.

"Let's take a picture ! We have to have something to remember this day by!"

So, you sidled up close to him, still holding the pumpkin with one arm, and held out your phone, trying to get both your faces, and pumpkins in the frame. When you had taken a few pictures, satisfied with the outcomes, he noticed you set one as your lock screen, smiling at it with content.

And for now, that was all he needed of you. He could be happy with this day, knowing that he got to spend it with you, and only you.

Some things to add to your playlist if you don't already have them !!

Coffee Breath - Sofia Mills

Location - Khalid

Humility - Gorillaz ft George Benson

Look at the Sky - Porter Robinson

Thank you sm for sending something in for my event!! I really hope you enjoy it all!!! I know i really liked writing the drabble !! Have a wonderful day or night !!