#this could be written way better but whatever

[isaadore]

US THREE QUINN HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing dad!quinn hughes x mom!reader

SUMMARY little snippets of your life with quinn before and after the birth of your son. word count 1.2k

warnings fem!reader, tooth-rotting fluff

notes i haven’t written anything in sooo long, so i’m a little rusty 😓 i apologize if this isn’t the best and a little cheesy. i just got a few ideas while watching titans (i’m in love with dick grayson)

QH43 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

PAINTING THE NURSERY

It was one of those perfect autumn afternoons, the kind where the air felt crisp and colourful leaves danced in the wind. Quinn set the last can of soft pastel yellow paint down on the nursery floor, and as the warm light streamed through the window, the walls seemed to glow. You were perched on a step stool, carefully taping the edges of the room, your growing belly just brushing the ladder as you shifted. Quinn was nearby, his brows furrowed, hovering slightly with one hand stretched out, ready to catch you if you even thought about wobbling.

“You know I��ve got this, right?” you teased, turning to shoot him a playful smirk.

“I know,” he replied, his own grin creeping onto his face, “but just... humour me, okay? I can't help it—I'm not taking any chances.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, hopping down to grab the paintbrush he held out to you. “All right, Mr. Safety First. Let's see if you’re as good with a paintbrush as you are with a hockey stick.”

“Better,” he shot back, popping open the paint can with a satisfying snap. 

As you worked together, it felt like more than just painting. You shared giggles and tossed around baby names, and then, in a moment of mischief, you smeared a little paint right on his nose. He retaliated with a playful swipe of yellow across your cheek, his boyish grin impossibly wide when you squealed in surprise. By the time the walls were mostly covered, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your heart felt so full it was almost overwhelming.

Quinn took a step back to admire the work, his hand resting gently on your back. “I think he’s going to love it,” he murmured.

“I think so too,” you replied softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling all the warmth between you both.

PROUD DAD-TO-BE

The first time Quinn brought you and your soon-to-be son into a post-game interview was completely unexpected. The Canucks had just pulled off an overtime win, and Quinn was still filled with adrenaline as he stood by the microphone.

“Quinn, how does it feel to lead your team to a win like that?” a reporter asked, clearly eager for a soundbite.

He flashed a big grin, running a hand through his damp hair, still buzzing from the game. “It feels amazing. Honestly, though, it’s not just about me. My wife’s at home, seven months pregnant and absolutely crushing it. Every time I’m on the ice, I’m thinking about them. I want to make my son proud before he’s even here.”

The room filled with soft laughter and nods of approval. Quinn’s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and excitement, and back home, you were curled up on the couch with tears in your eyes, feeling every word. He had this incredible way of melting your heart, always reminding you of the beautiful life you were building together.

CRAVINGS AND CHICKEN PARM

A few days later, you found yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, scrolling through recipes on your phone. Pregnancy cravings had hit you hard, and that night, all you could think about was chicken parmesan.

Quinn strolled in, wearing sweatpants and a simple t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. He leaned over your shoulder to peek at the screen, flashing a grin. “Alright, what’s on the menu tonight?” he asked.

“Chicken parm,” you said, setting your phone down with a smile. “And extra cheese, of course.”

“Even better,” he replied, already heading toward the fridge.

Quinn wasn’t exactly a culinary master, but he’d taken it upon himself to whip up whatever you were craving. Watching him in the kitchen was one of your favourite pastimes. He would hum under his breath, occasionally glancing back to check in on you. That night, as he dipped the chicken into the breadcrumb mixture, he paused, a thoughtful look on his face.

“You know,” he said, looking up with a smirk, “if our kid ends up loving hockey as much as chicken parm, we might be in for some late-night games and a lot of takeout.”

You laughed, shaking your head at the thought. “He’s going to have your work ethic and your heart, so I think we’ll manage just fine.”

Quinn’s ears turned a light shade of pink at the compliment, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he got back to layering the mozzarella and marinara with a focus that made you smile. When he finally set the plate in front of you, there was a look of triumph on his face.

As you took that first bite, Quinn settled in beside you, his hand instinctively resting on your belly. Just then, the baby kicked, and both of you froze before bursting into joyful smiles.

“Looks like he approves,” Quinn said softly, his thumb brushing gently against your skin through your shirt. 

“He definitely has good taste,” you replied, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

LULLABIES

It was well past midnight when Quinn heard the soft sound of you humming from the nursery. He had just wrapped up reviewing game footage in his office, but the gentle melody drew him out. Quietly, he padded down the hall and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of you swaying in the rocking chair.

At first, you were lost in your own world, your hands resting on your belly as you sang a lullaby barely above a whisper. The dim glow of the nightlight cast a warm, golden light around the room, and at that moment, Quinn thought you’d never look more beautiful.

“Can’t sleep?” he murmured, stepping inside and breaking the stillness.

You looked up, a smile brightening your face. “Just practicing for when he gets here. Thought I’d get a head start on lullabies.”

Quinn knelt beside the chair, his chin resting on the armrest as he gazed up at you. “You’re going to be an amazing mom,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s so lucky to have you.”

You reached out, your fingers gently stroking his dark hair. “And he’s got the best dad in the world. We make a good team, don’t we?”

“The best,” he replied, leaning in to place a tender kiss on your belly. “Hey, buddy, you’re going to love it here. I promise.”

FIRSTS

On the morning of Quinn’s first game, after the baby was born, the house was buzzing with energy. You darted around the living room, stuffing essentials into the diaper bag while Quinn wrestled with the car seat straps, frustration written all over his face.

“This thing is impossible,” he grumbled, tugging at the straps.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

With a little teamwork, you managed to get the seat secured, and Quinn let out an exasperated cheer. “We did it! All right, now we’re all set!”

As you carefully strapped your son into the seat, Quinn knelt down, his face breaking into a wide grin as he gazed at the baby. “Okay, little man. It’s game day! No pressure, but we’ve got a streak to uphold.”

You gave him an amused roll of your eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Just focus on being adorable.”

Quinn leaned over and planted a kiss on your cheek, his excitement radiating as he headed toward the door. “Best cheer squad ever!” he called back, his voice full of warmth.

When you got to the rink, the atmosphere was electric. Quinn scored a goal and immediately turned to look at you in the stands, where you sat cradling your son. The pride lighting up his eyes was everything, and in that moment, everything felt just right.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ QH43 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[askshivanulegacy]

That tweet is on point. This is exactly why "Democrats don't do anything." Because they (the voters) don't. And despite the message that voting works, these people STILL don't bother to vote. The most affected populations not voting is why Trump won the first time, and here we are again.

We like to think Republicans are stupid, but honestly, Democrats are the same brand of stupid. You look at the Republican talking points and you think that no one with half a brain would believe that nonsense, that any basic Google search for information would give you reality.

But then you look at the Democrat despair points and it's the same thing. Who TF would believe that nonsense? Anyone with half a brain could do a Google search or simply vote just in case.

But that's all you hear from all the lefty sjws. "Oh no, America is so evil! It's so terrible!! Capitalism bad! I hate it here! I won't vote because Palestine exists! My non-engagement is totally a message! Whine whine cry cry sob."

The truth is so obvious: America is NOT bad or evil. It's a landmass with a government like any other country. If you want better living and working conditions, if you want it to be YOUR country the way you like it, you VOTE. Change the government. If you want a government that will help your special little blorbo country, then you VOTE. Change the government.

Capitalism is nothing more exciting or evil than any other economic system. It works. It's not going away! What's bad about it is unregulated capitalism. It's the absence of perfectly logical social programs that the people of any country deserve and government has an obligation to provide. And how do you change that? You vote for the government that wants to regulate it and provide protections for the people! You vote for the government that places people above billion-dollar corporations!

But nobody wants to hear that. They want to cry in a corner about how everything's evil, and anyone ever who "participates" in that "evil" (aka dares to run for office to make whatever positive change they can) gets kicked to the curb for not being a perfect little angel and immediately magically fixing everything perfectly, even though the nature of democracy is compromise. They want to attack each other for buying a chicken sandwich at a problematic restaurant or enjoying a children's book written by an author with bad opinions.

Democrats are just little purity babies with no grasp of reality. If "both sides are the same," they're the same because the voting populations are equally stupid, not because the policies are the same.

The Democrat party needs a real come-to-Jesus meeting about their propaganda. Clearly, the Republican style of messaging works. They need to adapt it. They need to stir up existential panic and selfishness. We know panic by itself won't work (see Harris' "I'm not Trump" campaign). They need to tap into the inherent sjw selfishness, because that's what the non-voters and the sjw platform truly runs on. It doesn't run on the sympathy or compassion for other people. Purity politics is all about being better than the next guy and looking good. It's not about intelligence or logic or science or reality.

And honestly, that's why Republicans and Democrats are the same - not the party platform, but the voters themselves. Same motivations, same selfish desires. The Democrat party just needs to figure out how to push the right buttons.

[simp-ly-writes]

Dating Drummer!Jayce

─────── · · Arcane Band!AU

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, written in second-person POV, reader mentioned as shorter than Jayce, nicknames/petnames, fluff, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 888

─ · · A/N: and then I ask myself, why can't they be REAL 😫‼️

─────── · ·

Drummer! Jayce who is part of the band 'arcane' and just won their first music award runs over to you, picking you up in his arms and spinning you around with a large grin on his face- eyes just begging to hear your praise.

Drummer! Jayce who always supplies you with the most recent and custom band merch (signed by his-truly of course).

Drummer! Jayce who gets special messages from your favourite bands for you just to see the way you look up at his so excitedly every time (god he wants to kiss you badly).

Drummer! Jayce who want to teach you how to play and is the most patient teacher that never tells you that you did it wrong... just that you both can, "do better than that, sweetheart. Lets try again." His chest is warm pressing against your back as he walks you through step by step.

Drummer! Jayce where if you know how to play the drums without telling him is equally impressed, practically jumping in his spot to listen to you play more (and is jealous that at some point someone taught or got to hear you play before him).

Drummer! Jayce who either has too much adrenaline after shows or is absolutely knackered- there is no in between.

Drummer! Jayce when he is tired is so whiny for you, will fall asleep standing or leaning against you and is always apologetic afterwards yet his teasing eyes sparkle otherwise when he see's you blush underneath his arm- seeing how perfectly you seem to fit there.

Drummer! Jayce when he is still full of energy is dragging you away back to your hotel room without any further explanation, only his calloused palms rising up your thigh with a smirk as he talks with the driver feeling you squirm beneath his touch.

Drummer! Jayce who looks at you during interviews with a small smile, often going into his own word as he observes your outfit, recalls your conversation that morning and wonder's if you would want to be something together one day rather than... whatever you both are working through currently (but he would take anything you give him). He also gets called out every time during these interviews, pouting before answering the question he was half-listening to (there's a whole compilation on the internet of these moments).

Drummer! Jayce who gets hella jealous when a member to their opening group takes interest and all your time away. He tries not to say anything about it the first few times he observes it but by the night he is playing his hardest while looking for you in the crowd.

Drummer! Jayce who always bunks across from you on the tour bus so that in the morning there is a chance you are both the first person the other see's and talks to.

Drummer! Jayce who gets teased endlessly by the band for not just asking you out.

Drummer! Jayce who is sick of people throwing themselves at him, stepping away as quickly as possible and watching you quickly look away every time. Who does not want to date that guy for PR, does not want to do that photoshoot with some model when it could be you...

Drummer! Jayce who is terrified that you'll reject him, that you won't want every string and tie linked to dating a member of the worlds most popular band (and he wouldn't blame you... just potentially be broken hearted for the rest of his life and stay forever single in the hope that one day when he becomes old and irrelevant you would finally give him a chance).

Drummer! Jayce who nearly passes out when you agree to date him and then goes on to have the best motivation to work on an entire new album and individual works.

Drummer! Jayce who uses your laugh as the into and outro to his self-entitled album yet never admits in any interview as to who it is (but everyone guessing the right answer anyways).

Drummer! Jayce who always allows you to hear the tracks first and foremost, respects your opinion with musical knowledge or not, and quote "wants to make something you can both feel proud of releasing."

Drummer! Jayce who takes you on month long vacations with him away from the band when on tour breaks and proposes to you during one night walk at some early morning hour where the streets were all empty and for the first time in a long while you both could just live in that bubble, enjoying the moment.

Drummer! Jayce who agrees not to post anything about your relationship until your first wedding anniversary and the whole internet blows up over night.

Drummer! Jayce who cannot contain the smile on his face during his first interview back with the band for a reunion tour who just shrugs his shoulder, waving his ring-cladded hand in front of the camera proudly, "proud to be their husband."

Drummer! Jayce who teaches your kid how to play the drums as soon as they are able to walk, he always reminds them that there is no pressure for them to follow in his footsteps (yet he would also find it super cool if they did).

Drummer! Jayce who dedicates every song and preformance to you and your family.

─────── · ·

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz @hellokittyluvr69420 @mommymilkers0526

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Catch Me If You Can | Chapter 20 Chapter 20 | EPILOGUE: the thief and the messenger⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Weeks later, you found yourself perched on the slanted roof of your favorite hideout—the very one spot in town where you felt truly invisible. It was also the same place where you had once laid out your bold plan to rob a god.

Now, you sat cross-legged, a freshly swiped apple in hand, watching the sun dip lower in the sky.

The fading light bathed the horizon in hues of gold and crimson, streaks of orange blending into soft purples that hinted at the coming night. Above, the first stars began to twinkle, tiny pinpricks of silver against the deepening blue.

You bit into the apple, the crunch loud in the quiet. The faint scent of smoke and rebuilding filled the air, mingling with the sweet tang of the fruit.

Below, the town bustled faintly—quieter than it once had been, but alive in a way it hadn't been for a long time.

You watched as lanterns began to flicker to life, dotting the streets like fireflies. The people were rebuilding, healing.

It wasn't perfect, but it was better.

Life had returned to normal—or at least as normal as it could be for you. A small smile played at your lips as you thought back to everything that had happened.

You were richer from the experience—not just in the extra gold that mysteriously appeared in your satchel after you parted ways with Hermes, though that certainly helped. It even came with a note written in an elegant, teasing hand: For your trouble. Don't spend it all in one place, little thief.

The tyrant who had taxed your town into despair was gone now, driven out by the unexpected surge of wealth that allowed the people to reclaim what was theirs.

The Sunstone had done its part, not as a stolen artifact, but as the spark that inspired change.

And though you doubted Apollo would ever forgive the theft, he hadn't come back to smite you yet. Small victories.

You glanced up at the stars, their light growing brighter as the sun's warmth faded.

Your fingers brushed against the faint, golden mark on your wrist—the lingering proof of Apollo's judgment. It no longer burned, but it tingled faintly sometimes, a reminder of the divine forces you had crossed. A reminder that you had survived.

Taking another bite of the apple, you let your thoughts wander back to Hermes. You hadn't seen him since that night, but his parting words still echoed in your mind, as did the maddening, fleeting warmth of his kiss. "But if you do... well, you know where to find me."

You shook your head, letting out a soft huff of laughter. Typical Hermes. Always leaving you guessing, never giving you the full story. But even so, you knew you'd see him again. Trouble had a way of finding you, and he was never too far behind it.

For now, though, you allowed yourself to savor the moment—the peace of your town rebuilding, the quiet triumph of surviving a brush with the gods, and the soft glow of the stars above.

Whatever came next, you'd be ready.

For now, your thoughts wandered to the mundane, grounding you in the moment. What should I eat later? you mused, chewing the last bite of your apple. Maybe head to the bar for some stew... or catch the baker's stall before it closes. That honey bread is—

"Awfully quiet, little thief. Miss me already?"

The voice cut through your thoughts like a knife, smooth and teasing, laced with unmistakable amusement. Your heart leapt into your throat, the familiar timbre as jarring as it was strangely comforting.

Slowly, you turned, and there he was—Hermes.

He lounged casually on the edge of the rooftop like he belonged there, his wings faintly visible in the soft light of the evening, shimmering faint gold at the edges. His grin was as maddeningly smug as you remembered, his golden eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and curiosity; his posture relaxed like he didn't have a care in the world.

Your chest tightened for a moment—a small, fleeting reaction that you quickly shoved down, replacing it with a blank, unbothered expression. "Look what the wind dragged in," you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the roof. "What do you want, Hermes? Last I checked, I haven't stolen from any gods recently."

His grin widened, the kind of grin that made you want to throw something at him. "Oh, I don't doubt that. Not yet, anyway." He leaned closer, balancing effortlessly on the slanted roof as his wings folded neatly behind him. "But who's to say you won't? I thought I'd check in, you know, keep you out of trouble."

"Keep me out of trouble?" You snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that your specialty, oh mighty god of mischief?"

"Guilty as charged." He placed a hand over his chest as if accepting the title with pride. "But let's not forget—you're my favorite little troublemaker now. Makes me feel responsible." His smirk softened, just a fraction, and for a moment, his gaze lingered on you. "Can't have you running wild without supervision."

You rolled your eyes, but there was no stopping the small twitch at the corner of your lips. "I'm doing just fine, thanks. And for the record, I'm not planning on any heists anytime soon."

"Good," Hermes said, his tone lighter but with a faint undercurrent of something deeper—something you couldn't quite place. "That's a start." Then, as if unable to resist, he added, "Though I have to say, the world's a little duller without you stirring the pot."

Your heart raced again, but you masked it with a huff, tossing the apple core off the roof and watching it disappear into the shadows below. "Well, sorry to disappoint. I'm retired from participating in big jobs."

"Retired?" Hermes laughed, a sound so rich and warm that it almost disarmed you. "Well, that won't do at all."

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. "What won't do?"

Hermes crossed his arms, leaning lazily against his staff. "You. Sitting here. Pretending you're done with all the fun stuff. That's not the little thief I know." His wings shimmered faintly before disappearing once more, leaving only the faintest ripple in the air behind him. "As it happens, I've got something for you. Bigger, shinier, and far more dangerous than the Sunstone. Interested?"

You raised a brow, lips curving into a skeptical smirk. "And what if I don't want to? As you can see, I've got a reputation of simple thievery to maintain here." You gestured down at the bustling town below, the marketplace still lively with traders and customers.

Hermes' smirk widened, and before you could blink, he floated forward, his sandals skimming the edge of the roof. He plopped down in front of you, so close that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. His golden eyes gleamed as he leaned just a little too close for comfort—or maybe too close for your own good.

You hated the way your heart stuttered at something so simple, so deliberate.

"Oh, on the contrary, little thief," he purred, his voice low and smooth, sending a small shiver down your spine. "I apologize if I made it sound like you have a choice. I'm merely here to cash in a deal I'm owed... or did you forget?"

You maintained your snarky look, raising an eyebrow as if unfazed, but inside, you were screaming. Forget? How could you forget? You'd practically replayed the deal on loop every day after you parted ways, trying not to admit—even to yourself—that the silence left behind had felt... lonely.

Finally, you pursed your lips, determined to hide the smile threatening to creep onto your face. "Why are you so insistent on that deal? I know I'm not the only human you've made a deal with. What's in it for you?"

Hermes tilted his head, his grin lazy and entirely too self-assured. "Entertainment, of course," he said with a wink, his tone dripping with charm. "And maybe your charming company."

You rolled your eyes, but the flutter in your chest refused to be ignored. "Charming, huh? Sounds like you're buttering me up for something."

"Always," Hermes said with a playful shrug, standing to his full height and stretching his arms overhead, his grin never faltering. "But come on, little thief. You can't tell me you've been satisfied with the small-time cons down there. Where's the thrill? The excitement? The chaos?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn't entirely wrong. Life had returned to normal—or as normal as it could be—but part of you missed the wildness of the journey, the danger, the feeling of being alive.

Hermes must have caught the flicker of hesitation in your eyes because his grin widened, triumphant. "See? You're already considering it."

"I didn't say anything," you shot back quickly, crossing your arms. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" Hermes' voice dropped slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. "Tell me this, my little thief—when was the last time you felt like you were really living?"

You huffed, turning sharply on your heel. You hated how easily he could read you, but you also couldn't deny the truth in his words. "I don't know," you drawled, keeping your back to him for effect, pretending to mull it over. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. Hard to say."

Behind you, Hermes chuckled, the sound low and teasing. You heard the faint rustle of his sandals against the roof as he moved closer. Too close. The air shifted, and you could feel his presence just behind you—warm, magnetic.

Slowly, you turned, only to find his face mere inches from yours.

His golden eyes lidded slightly, their usual mischief softened into something more dangerous. His lips curled into that infuriating smirk, and the faint breeze ruffled his hair, catching glints of gold in the strands.

He tilted his head, his gaze flickering to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking back onto your eyes.

"Come on~," he murmured, his voice a low, teasing hum that sent shivers down your spine. "Admit it. You missed me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to let him win. This time, you leaned forward, closing the gap. Hermes' smirk faltered, his eyes widening slightly as you pressed a teasing kiss to his lips—light, brief, but just enough to leave him stunned.

When you pulled back, it was with a smirk of your own. "Maybe a little."

For the first time, Hermes seemed caught off guard. His eyes blinked rapidly, like he was trying to process what just happened. Then he threw his head back and laughed, the sound bright and full of life, echoing into the night.

"You're going to be the death of me, little thief," he said, his voice still carrying that unmistakable amusement.

You tilted your head, feigning a thoughtful expression as your lips curved into a playful grin. "Well, if you die, who's going to provide me with all that 'entertainment' you promised, huh? Don't go making empty threats, Hermes."

His laughter faltered, the smirk on his lips twisting into something sharper. Before you could blink, his hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist as he pulled you closer. The sudden movement sent your heart racing, and the teasing retort you'd been crafting evaporated as he tugged you flush against him.

"Empty threats, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and molten, golden eyes locking onto yours with a heat that made your breath hitch. His free hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was consuming—fierce and unrelenting, his mouth moving against yours like he'd been waiting for this moment far longer than you could've guessed.

His lips were soft, yet the pressure was firm, claiming, stealing your breath as his hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer.

His tongue flicked against your lips, coaxing them apart, and before you knew it, he was deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a skill that left you lightheaded.

Your hands instinctively shot up—one gripping the front of his tunic, the other bracing against his chest. The faint hum of his laughter rumbled against your lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

When he finally pulled back, you were gasping for air, your head spinning. "W-Wow," you breathed out, your voice unsteady. One hand pressed lightly against his chest as if to put some distance between you, though you couldn't bring yourself to push him away completely. Your fingers brushed against the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric, and it was enough to send another jolt through your already frayed nerves.

Hermes' grin returned, cocky and entirely too pleased with himself, though there was a softness in his golden eyes that hadn't been there before. "Sure you're not the one who's going to be the death of me?" you teased, managing a weak smile despite your flushed cheeks and racing heart.

He snorted, the hand on the back of your neck sliding up to cup your cheek. "Nah, I've got it all figured out," he said, his voice warm and rich with amusement. "If you do die, I'll just bring you back to life. I've got a few connections in the Underworld, you know. I can even make a cozy little alcove just for us if you want—eternity's a lot less dull with you around."

You leaned back slightly, still catching your breath as the warmth of his touch lingered on your skin. "Alright, enough flirting," you said, though the teasing edge in your voice didn't quite mask the fluttering in your chest. "What's this little 'job' of yours anyway? If I'm risking my life again, I'd at least like to know what I'm getting into."

Hermes' grin widened, full of mischief as he tilted his head, watching you like you were the most entertaining thing in existence. "Ah, now there's the spirit I love to see. And here I was worried you'd grown boring."

You arched a brow, waiting, as he clapped his hands together and began patting his pockets. "Let me just grab the details..." His voice trailed off as his golden eyes flicked downward, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "Huh. I could've sworn it was—"

When he looked up, his words faltered, his gaze narrowing as he spotted the slip of parchment pinched between your fingers. You held it up with a sly smile, shrugging innocently. "Sorry. Old habits die hard," you said coyly. "You really should keep a better eye on your stuff."

For a moment, Hermes just stared, and then that infuriating grin spread across his face. "Oh, you little—" He didn't finish. Instead, he reached up, pulling his cap off and plopping it unceremoniously onto your head. It tilted slightly, too big for your head, but it only made his smirk grow wider as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you flush against him.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and warm, "I think you're going to be my favorite assistant. Try not to let it go to your head."

Before you could respond—or swipe the cap right back off—he unfurled his wings in one smooth motion, the sudden rush of air making your hair whip wildly. His grip on you tightened as he launched into the sky, the ground vanishing beneath your feet.

You let out a surprised yelp, clutching onto his shoulders instinctively, and Hermes' laughter echoed in your ears.

"Hold on tight, little thief," he called over the wind, the stars stretching out like a glittering blanket above you. "The world's wide open now—ripe for chaos, a little adventure, and who knows? Maybe even a bit more love if you're up for it?"

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you tucked your face into his neck. The night swallowed you both, the endless horizon promising more than you could ever imagine.

With Hermes at your side—or rather, holding you aloft—you were ready for whatever came next.

A/N: AHHHHH, y'all!! it's finally finished! i had a lot of fun with it, and it also taught me that i don't have to go wild and every book i write gotta have 30+ chappies.... i als tried my hand here at a faster-paced romance (which was hard asf because it takes me hella long time to even realize i like someone, let alone wanna kiss them lolol---sighs, life of a demisexual) enough ramling, hope you lovelies enjoyed this! my apollo or telemachus short fic should be dropping soon~ in the mean time, while updating KNE and Godly Things oneshots will be drpping as well ❤️

[the-haven-keepers-collective]

Unreasonably long post about plural shit

So I'm gonna be honest and uncharacteristically vulnerable for a second because I think people might relate or have internalized similar things. My name is Pyre; at least that's what I'll be going by on Tumblr. I'm a fictive, some of you might've already seen me sign off on comments or something using my source name but I don't really care. Also I'm not Techno, he's open about his source. Thought I'd get that out of the way for those of you who know us. Pyre is a very Techno name though and I just stole it faster.

Anyway, to the point: We've seen posts shouting out systems/collectives who are "too similar," particularly median systems and such who experience a lot of internal fakeclaiming and imposter syndrome because of that. This is for the non-median systems who are "too similar," though. This is part a post to point out their validity, and part a post talking about my own experience so far with that.

In my source, I'm kind of a badass. I was admittedly an asshole, and very misguided, but at least within my canon (within the shows canon is questionable, we never did finish it rip) I was fighting for what I believed was right. Fighting for those who fall through the cracks for no good reason, for those that get hurt for things they can't control. If I were brought here, in this world, in my own body, I wouldn't afraid of shit. I'd gladly punt a transphobe. I wouldn't shy away from conflict; sometimes conflict is how progress happens.

In reality, I don't have my own body. And one of the things about our body is, well, its nervous system is wired to treat any small amount of conflict as a threat. We're incredibly risk averse, and this isn't a personality trait, it's built in. No one in our collective is likely to ever take an opportunity, no matter how well laid out, to call out someone being an asshole or have some witty comeback to a transphobe or whatever. We won't even think of one. That's wired into our nervous system, it's just how our body reacts to danger. We stumble over ourselves if we try to do anything other than freeze.

This isn't a fault. This wouldn't be overwritten by sheer personality and willpower in a "real system." Some systems, maybe, but not all. So for those of you who feel like you "should" be a certain way and just can't because it's built into the body you're in to act differently; you're not any lesser for it. Whether you're a fictive, sourced in some way, have a certain role that "should" be different, your personality is just like that, or some other reason I can't think of- don't be too hard on yourself for things you can't control. The body you're in just wants to protect you.

Even if sometimes, you (and I) strongly disagree with it on what exactly that means.

-Pyre

[right-there-ride-on]

Gyjo in the fandom

cw: light discussion of ableism

Gyjo… what am I thinking about gyjo…

I like them. I like them a lot, actually. They have paralleled narrative arcs, they complement each other nicely, the romantic subtext is incredibly obvious to the point that even the most homophobic fan you know will admit they understand why people ship it… so why do I also have a problem with it?

There’s a lot of good fanart. Hell, I’ve reblogged plenty. Maybe it’s just something that’s more pronounced in fic.

I’m trying to word this correctly. My issue with gyjo has nothing to do with the text itself. I think my problem is just how people portray it in the fandom.

Maybe it’s because it’s so popular, or maybe it’s the sheer prominence of applying ‘Character A’ and ‘Character B’ dynamics without considerable regard for the characters involved, but I feel gyjo is very prone to flanderization. I believe the intersection with how ableist people are toward Johnny (intentionally or not, subtly or not) and the old tropes these two get shoved into makes it so I have trouble enjoying fics in the fandom.

I’m not saying it’s bad to enjoy certain tropes. I’m not saying headcanons are bad either. What I am saying is that writing is hard, but if you’re going to write fanfiction please have consideration for the characters you’re writing. The arcs of these two are complex and multilayered, which is why I think they have such staying power, but I also think they also provide a good opportunity for us as writers and artists to examine our biases when it comes to the portrayal of certain groups, personality types, mental illnesses, queerness, disability, etc. and maybe come out better people for it.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Now that we are being followed by people, we need to make some thoughts and opinions clear so that people are not later Shocked And Disgusted or whatever by thoughts we have held for many years. We think it's weird and also bad to treat queer people like they're a different species from cishet people, and we think that treating things like Having A Sexuality makes a character better than if they have a different sexuality is bad no matter what way you put it.

We also think that, if in your setting queer folks are widely accepted and straight isn't a "default", it may be worth noting that, say, a straight woman might need just as much self-discovery to work out she's straight that a lesbian does nowadays. In the same manner that, in Ace Attorney, Larry Butz needs to tell Phoenix that no matter how many photos of handsome men he shows him, he's tried, he's just not attracted to men,

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[longagoitwastuesday]

I have learnt things about Geto that I wish I could unlearn

[beanghostprincess]

When Robin was first introduced, she had been working with Crocodile in Alabasta for the past several years, so I could understand her skin tone being a little lighter than it used to be, but not this bad.

It's extremely fucked up. I would understand the "it was an animation error" argument if it wasn't because it happens with all the characters (not only Robin) and they're whiter and whiter each episode (even the characters that should be black).

If we follow irl reasoning as you say, then all of them should be tanned because they're pirates. They're constantly under the sun. But no, they go backward and instead, they lack melanin every episode. It was already bad, but Egghead fucked up big time.

And don't get me started on Usopp because people could use that excuse on any other character, but Usopp?? I truly, really, don't think it takes too much thinking to get that he's black and Toei just keeps making him paler than Sanji. It's ridiculous and racist and people who ignore it or say it's been talked "too much" (because people say it and apparently there's a limit for them as to how much you can complain about racism) always get on my nerves.

What Toei is doing is just disgusting and people defending it are always the ones who refuse to see any mistakes in the things they like. News flash! You can like something and admit it has mistakes.

[autistic-katara]

there r fics that make u insane (so amazingly good it’s removed ur sanity) and then there’s fics that make u insane (you need to fistfight the author for how they did a specific thing that caused u to rant for hours)

[yeshallbeasgods]

Godly End time!

As expected, this branch feels more bittersweet from the start. Kureha's got more concrete plans and Misa is more self-aware. Him spelling out that he just wants Misa to be able to see him, even if they can never touch,

Kureha's transformation is still very good. Just saying.

Misa's dreams are still shattered, even though they were so much smaller in this version... poor girl. The two of them promising to pray for each other's happiness even if they can't see each other or interact is really painful. It's definitely a rushed and not particularly healthy romance, but it is a sweet one.

I still want to know where Kureha's elaborate kimono getup came from. It feels like it should be plot-relevant. Did something get cut? I'm half-suspecting that Kureha was originally meant to be the final victim (or Isao Tsukigami). Oh well, the nice part about being a writer means I can learn from these sorts of mistakes.

And sure enough, the main thing separating these two endings is that Godly End Misa refuses to stop fighting. She wants to live more than she wants to be with Kureha. Good for her.

Oh noooo, Hinagiku remembered Ghost Boy's name. That's even more painful.

Kureha has a whole plan for their second attempt. So reliable~

Hm. As nice as the second Hinagiku confrontation is, it rings a bit hollow. Kureha doesn't feel like he was written to be a big brother. The thematic weight is lacking.

What the hell, Hinagiku doesn't get a better sprite than a floating orb?! She deserves better even if she is a retcon!

...Misa saying goodbye to Yui would hit better if they kissed. Just saying.

Hibiki is just gone. I'm worried about him now.

And then the game's main theme kicked in! Kureha is so smooth in this sequence.

Misa's mom abruptly changing her mind and letting Misa go to whatever school she wants feels forced. And rushed. All that build-up and Misa doesn't even get to confront her mom? What a disappointment.

I'm now worried about Sayaka. What's your deal, girl?

Overall, I think Kureha's route was a good introduction to the themes and tone of 9 R.I.P.. Kureha himself is a very sweet character, though perhaps not as memorable or tragic as he could have been, and he has good chemistry with Misa. I kinda think it would have been more dramatic as Yui's route with Kureha as the wraith stalking them, but I'm aware I am biased. And I expected a little more from him with such a striking design. Seriously, all that build-up about the kimono used in the murders, Kureha's wearing a kimono over something weird, and it's not plot-relevant at all?

Maybe the sequel will give him a more interesting route. As it is, I can safely say I like Kureha a lot... but Yui/Misa and Kureha/Hibiki would still be better than the Kureha/Misa we got.

That said, I adore the A Strange Time, Again ending. It even opens with Yui appearing in the same way Kureha does in Eight Flowers, Blooming. My ship! Everyone gets a cameo! We finally see Kureha's friend! No idea why this is listed as a normal end, I think it's clearly the best ending Kureha has.

New post for Kureha's route!

KUREHA CUT THE ONRYO'S ARM OFF. AND WE DIDN'T GET A CG? THIS IS UNFAIR. I AM BEING DISCRIMINATED AGAINST. HOW COME HIBIKI GETS A SPOOKY FIGHT CG AND KUREHA DOESN'T?

I am starting a petition to get Kureha a fandisc entirely dedicated to him cutting up ghosts with a sword. Please sign in the interests of me getting many CGs of Kureha cutting up ghosts with a sword.

[talkorsomething]

want to cut my hair again like you wouldn't believe. What are the possible consequences of going bald

[theradicalace]

i just think it's so funny that when *i* lash out and start bitching *about* management to my coworkers because of a stressful day at work, i get pulled into the office to discuss my attitude, but when a manager lashes out and bitches *at me* because of a stressful work day, i get a halfassed "oh sorry, but-" and i'm expected to roll over and take it.

[starlight-bread-blog]

Alright now let's go back to blaming Viv for this shitty writing in the latest episodes.

[animecreator3000]

Every time I rewatch some episode of Boueibu HK I wonder again how the staff even planned this season. Like. Almost nothing meaningful happens with the characters

TLDR the characters with the most developement in HK are the monsters

Kyoutarou is there as a complete contrast to Yumoto while keeping the battle speeches so his characterization doesn't make much sense. Nanao is mere fujoshi bait. Taiju and Taishi have random bits of dialogue that hint at possible arcs for s2 but not enough to tell us what it really is. Maasa has an unfinished arc in his episode, where supposedly he's putting fatty butter in his cookies to make everyone else overweight because he resents Ichiro not defending him when they were little, but then his friends tell him it's fine and then he can move on??? This would work with Ichiro's theme of not wanting to be immature or dense anymore, except they only ever used this theme as a gag (misunderstanding the meaning of whatever the others have said) or to straight up humilliate him (ep4) and continue treating him like a stupid baby. At the end of the season Maasa and him have made peace somehow and that's it. Ata gets in my opinion the closest thing to a complete arc, even if it's just staring angrily at Kyoutarou for ten episodes, then explaining his problem while fighting him and finally getting his apology and reconcilliation. At least it's something. And poor Ryouma is just there to be the butt of a few jokes about how he lets Nanao and Kyoutarou use him, be in a couple of cute shippy scenes, and also for Ata to completely dismiss him from the flashbacks to the point where if they had first met in high school nothing would've changed.

The relationships barely have developement either. Love had anime episodes and manga chapters dedicated to the different close friendships solving their conflicts and becoming closer. There were also many instances of seeing how close the Hakone brothers-defense club and Beppu brothers' relationships were, and even though they didn't have any conflict between themselves, they made them strong sides for the final fight. Yumoto didn't get a character arc but through the entire anime he was revealed to be strong, considerate, forgiving and mature, willing to kindly befriend the Beppu twins for his brother but not let them walk all over him; contrary to how he was presented in the first episodes, like a stereotypical magical girl protagonist. Anyway in HK there's no meaningful conflict between any of them besides Kyoutarou and Ata. Taishi and Ichiro argue constantly but don't show to genuinely like each other after all like IoRyuu or EnAtsu did. Ichiro and Maasa never make any progress to be together again, Maasa hints once at liking Taishi and nothing comes from it, and Nanao and Taiju have the most artificial friendship in the cast that I just do not understand. They just ran an ice cream shop once with again unexplained success and make sassy remarks at each other ever since. And I guess Karurusu and Furanui had a bit of developement thanks to Kyou and Ata in ep12. Idk about the aliens, this time it's like they didn't do it completely well but also not as bad as with the rest of the cast. Maybe bc they didn't appear as much as the humans in most of the episodes

I'm realizing now that a few of these complaints are related to Nanao acting weird

Idk where to put this but I'd like to point out Kinshiro's principles of halting the fight with the Battle Lovers as soon as he finds out that the s1 conflict was set up for a reality show and actively defending them from an attack because they're Binan students, despite still not having received his apology from Atsushi. Ata might've done the same if the HK finale's events had gone in the same order (travelling to Honyalaland to fight Wao, then Kyoutarou apologizing to Ata), but he doesn't feel as a character as deep as Kinshiro in that sense bc they didn't really show him to be in other ways.

Love feels more like an actual group of people while HK feels like they were filling in friendship group roles or something