#you might want to maybe at least watch like- a clip of what the ice king is like

[gin-juice-tonic]

in your opinion. can you watch Fionna and Cake without having seen adventure time? or are they too connected. I know nothing about either but it keeps coming on my dash so I’m curious

Now Fionna and Cake has only had 4 episodes so far, so bear in mind my response to this might not hold up once more come out, but

I've only seen sporadic episodes of the first 4 seasons of adventure time (out of 10) like, a decade ago, and I'm having a pretty good time.

You're gonna be out of the loop of quite a few things, but so far there is context sprinkled in the show through flashbacks and stuff that will help you a little. You wont be able to like, make predictions as well as people with the full context of the show can though obviously.

If that wouldnt damper your enjoyment then i say go for it. I dont think there's anything wrong with starting in the middle of everything. It's like how Star Wars starts with episode IV.

[winged-self-indulgence]

No Point in Running (STNAF)

Little fic for @stnaf-vn , a yandere VN. Hopefully I got Friend's personality down okay. Minors DNI. Get off my lawn! For context, this fic takes place after Day 1. Enjoy!

The bar crowd is thin this evening, a perk of coming in on a Tuesday evening instead of a Friday night. You’d managed to finagle a day off work after picking up one too many shifts for a co-worker, and Friend pretty much made his own hours, so you’d invited him out for drinks. It was the least you could do after ghosting him all weekend.

No, you correct yourself sternly, even as you fiddled nervously with the cork coaster resting on the bar table. You hadn’t ghosted him. That would be super rude, and mean, and extremely immature of you. You had just…needed a little bit of space. He understood that. You’d texted him about it and Friend hadn’t seemed that upset.

Of course, he wouldn’t. He was your best friend! You’d known each other for nearly forever! Just because you’d nearly hooked up on your couch one night, riding high on endorphins of requited love, only to wake up feeling like someone had just poured ice-cold water down the back of your shirt because oh god you almost had sex with your super hot childhood best friend oh shit and then hid in the bathroom like a dumbass until he’d left…Friend wouldn’t hold that against you…right?

Right?

The thoughts flee your mind when you glance back at the door for the fifth time in half as many minutes and perk up when you spot Friend walking into the bar. As always, his gleaming eyes lock on you instantly, and he begins to approach. A bit redundantly, you lift your hand and wave.

"Hi, I was waiting for you!"

"You're such a sweetheart,” Friend responds, hugging you a tad too tightly for comfort.

Oof, so he was upset. You let him squeeze you, inhaling the warm scent of his skin and hair where it brushes against yours and makes you dizzy with the memory of his naked skin against yours. You want to pull away, to apologize for hurting him, but before you can even say a single word Friend had already released you and settled next to you at the bar.

“Speaking of, I’ve got a surprise for you," he grinned.

“A surprise?” You echo, watching bemusedly as he reached down and pulled a small paper-wrapped box out from behind his back. “It’s not my birthday. You know it’s not my birthday. Or at least I hope you know when my birthday is-”

“Obviously I know when your birthday is,” Friend interrupted, rolling his eyes as he offered it to you. “Jeez, give a guy a little credit sweetheart! Just open it and tell me what you think.”

Partly suspicious, but mostly excited, you rip apart the paper to uncover a small wooden box. Opening it reveals a brass vintage locket, polished to a mirror shine. A clasp on the side pops the hinges, and you almost tear up at the pictures inside.

Friend is rubbing the back of his head, eyes on the top shelf as though the bottles of liquor were the most fascinating things in the room. “I repaired and restored it to how I imagine it would have looked years ago. Figured you might like to have it. It seemed just right for you."

"Aw, Friend, you spoil me!" You take the locket out and admire it, still cooing over the tiny picture of you and Friend making stupid faces on either side. The moon softens into something honeylike and sticky-sweet, and you immediately feel that flicker of inexplainable panic.

Abort. ABORT.

"You sap,” you force a casual laugh that wouldn’t have fooled a five year old, let alone your best Friend. “Are you trying to butter me up for something?"

"Maybe," he grins at you. His tone shifts until it resembles that of a child asking for a piece of candy. "I have a favour to ask. My dearest sweetheart, may I see you put it on?"

As always, his teasing puts you at ease, and you can’t help but laugh. "Only if you help me with the clips," you reply and turn around, putting your back is to him. The silver necklace settles around your neck, cold but quickly warming up the moment it made contact with your heated throat.

Friend carefully secures the locket of silver chain around your neck. As he lets go of the locket, you feel his warm hand resting against your skin. It’s only for a second, maybe less, and yet the brief touch makes you shiver in your seat.

"There. Perfect," he murmurs, spinning your seat back around so he can admire the way the brass pendant lies in the centre of your chest, dangling right above your heart. “I knew it would suit ya.”

"Thank you, Friend," you give him a fond smile, reaching up to play with the oval weight. "Still, don't you ever get tired of buying me stuff though? I mean, I barely know where to put all the stuffed toys you've gotten me."

Friend laughs, leaning back in his seat. "Is that all you think I do, buy you stuff? I just get you things that remind me of you. Nothing wild, just all sentimental things."

“Right,” you roll your eyes playfully. “And this is pure sentiment? Buying and fixing up Victorian era brassware for me?

Not answering immediately, Friend instead reaches his hand out to touch the locket around your neck. "You like it? It's a real antique, you know. Not your typical locket. Just thought you deserve something special, that’s all."

And of course, he needed something you wouldn’t want to take off. An earring was far too small and an actual ring would have frightened you off entirely (not that he would have let you go far) but Friend couldn’t afford to lose you. Preparations were still being made, but until everything had been finalized he couldn’t afford to lose sight of you for a minute.

Friend smiles sweetly at you, satisfaction oozing through his body as he watches you coo over his gift. In his pocket, the GPS app buzzes with new, up-to-date coordinates.

You would understand. He loves you so, so much, and one day you would see that there was no reason to run. That there was no point in running. All you had to do was say yes.

[karlkapri]

I am in my Kyle Dubas era!!!!!!! 😩🥵💦🔥 who has written about him on ao3?? Who is he with? Who do I need to start obsessing over to be with him?! 😭 are the pens worthy? I do not want him to go there and fail!! (I’m a baby hockey fan just finding my feet)

Hi hockey baby!

You probably know about as much about Kyle Dubas as I do. I follow hockey from Europe, and there is very little interest for anything but the Scandinavian players over here.

(We don't care about the OG 6 teams at all, but we like the Swedes and of course Mats Zuccarello makes the national news every time he gets even a single point in an NHL game. It's kinda cute. We're proud of our boy.)

If you want any Actual Information you might be better off asking a Maple Leaf blog, but I can try to answer a few of your questions based on what I've learned trough hockeyblr osmosis and by watching the Maple Leafs docuseries like.. 5 different times..

So who should you obsess over him to be with?

AO3 says William Nylander, and based entirely on that one clip in the Maple Leafs All or Nothing documentary series where Dubas says Nylander is "SO FRUSTRATING" I'm inclined to agree with that.

There's also.. um.. this..

Which: hot.

(asked @sidcrosbrainworms and they said Nylander and maybe Matthews so.. peer reviewed)

Dubas is close friends with Jason Spezza and there's some speculation about Spezza potentially joining him in Pittsburgh. Could be cute. I'm also linking this post by himbeaux-on-ice about the relationship between Dubas and coach Keefe because I found it interesting.

RE: Dubas and the Pens

Josh Yohe seems to have decided that it's Fanfic o'clock:

And not to slutshame or anything, but Sidney Crosby is the easiest person in the world to write fic about, so I have 0 doubt that there will be Crosby/Dubas content published within the next few weeks, it just might take the fanfic girlies a few days to catch up on the news.

Here's Pens twitter making a case for a Dubas sandwich on pens bread:

I personally would love for Sullivan/Dubas/Crosby to become A Thing on pensblr at the very least.

Now:

Are the Pens worthy? Sigh. I mean, I love them, they're my little guys. The core 3 are still playing very well and I think there's definitely potential for this to be a good season if Dubas can scrape together some support for them. Goaltending has been an issue though, and Dubas has already spoken about the need to address it:

(check out this website if you're curious about our cap situation & feel free to just message me if you have any questions about how all of that works or drop another anon ask & I'll get back to you)

I obviously don't want Dubas to fail either, but even if the Pens aren't immediately in contention for the cup, even if Dubas makes a million mistakes, our previous GM was fairly awful so like.. the bar is literally on the floor.

Things Can Only Get Better

I think Kylie Dubes will be fine 💛

I hope you enjoy your hockey-watching-experience, and if no ones told you yet: welcome to hockeyblr!

EDIT: check the replies for Sheldon/Kyle notes provided by @pptiny

[dragonsinkwell]

The Day Michael Myers Learns the Horrors of Dark Chocolate

So... I might have fallen into some slasher stuff over my hiatus. I might have finally started watching movies I never saw and my... curious choice in fictional men might have shown up. Maybe. Perhaps. Okay so yeah, turns out I've got a thing for Michael Myers is that really strange of me? This definitely isn't his most in character piece but also, lbh, IC Mikey is just killing people and we can do that another day because if I can get myself writing again after this he's definitely showing up again around here.

There is no chocolate in his cupboard.

There is not a single ounce of chocolate in all of his snack stash and Michael isn't having this.

While there are still quite a few treats left, mostly a variety of candies and a couple clipped bags of chips, none of them contain even a trace of chocolate and that is what he wants more than anything at this moment. He's run through it so quickly this week it takes him by a modicum of surprise; usually, he's more balanced in his unhealthy eating habits than this.

But no amount of stoic staring helps his plight. The half-eaten 'family size' bag of Skittles is unappetizing, none of the flavors of Fruit By The Foot strike his mood, and he knows that even though it's sitting in front of him, there are no S'mores Poptarts left in the box he never bothered to throw away. None of the chips are worth a second glance and for all that Michael does love those Rice Krispies, they're just the normal kind, so there is nothing of worth in them currently.

Michael can't restrain a silent huff of frustration as he lets the door fall shut, not at all interested in doing so quietly as he's the only one in these walls at the moment. He should have shown you before you left for work today, so you would at least be coming back with more. Instead, now he's stuck here hungering for something that isn't here.

And he knows that all too well. This isn't his first desperate attempt to have something manifest in front of his masked eyes in the last hour. His stash is bare of its usual chocolate content, he finished off all his ice cream last night, there's no more syrup to at least make chocolate milk with, and not even a single chocolate chip is left over from your last baking spree. The closest thing to what he wants that exists is your tin of cocoa powder and he is not that desperate.

Not yet, at least.

Unsurprisingly, this lack of abatement for his sweet tooth's cravings is driving Michael to blood lust, which while isn't actually a hard thing to do given his natural bias for it in the first place is a frustration he prefers to nurse under the cover of darkness and it isn't even proper afternoon. He can, and has gone on his 'walks' during daylight before, there is nothing to stop Michael if it pleases him, but he's never as satisfied with his work while the sun is up.

Although perhaps a little breaking into homes might not hurt, Michael thinks, given this is hardly the only home that would ever have chocolate. A two-for-one walk for some blood and treats would certainly scratch the itch quite nicely. But then, would it even be the stuff he wants? Nobody else caters to his tastes as succinctly as you do, and rummaging through any other kitchen would be a full gamble, and putting in work only to find the wrong stuff would only worsen his mood.

Before Michael can decide if this plan would be worth the effort that would go into it versus sucking it up to wait for your return and having you solve the problem, he remembers one specific place he hasn't looked: your snack stash. Normally he never touches it, for a small mix of reasons, the main one being that you've only ever told him that the treats you keep there are ones he isn't going to like and, for the most part, anything he's seen going in there seems to fit that label. Compared to what he always knows is in his cupboard, yours isn't ever worth bothering with.

However, he knows what he saw you take back into your room on the last grocery day. Sitting among those bags of spicy chips and strangely flavored cookies were a small handful of chocolate bars. They hadn't graced his attention then, as he had a whole buffet of his own to play with and Michael isn't an unmerciful man, he's let you live this long, after all, so allowing you some chocolate of your own is hardly a bother when you keep him appeased, but today, today is another matter.

It should come as no surprise, then, that the sweet-toothed killer makes a beeline straight to your room. Generally, he respects your privacy here so long as you can forgive his interesting takes on what the word 'privacy' means, but here in the heat of the moment, Michael doesn't care. You're not here and it isn't like he's going to rummage through all of your belongings; he's only here for your hidden chocolate bars. Plus, if you get testy he'll do what he normally does: nothing. What can you do about it?

Well, perhaps that's untrue, he thinks as he barges in heading straight for where your desk sits and the little mini-fridge and drawer on top of it that sit beside the desk he knows contains your stash. He might at least bring you back an extra something from his next kill, to make up for the loss of candy. Again, Michael likes to think there is some grace in this strange relationship you two have and he knows how he'd take the news of you stealing his candy. Worse than you can, for certain, but it's the thought that counts... or so you always say.

He still doesn't know what it means, but you say it quite a bit directed at him so it must mean something.

Michael yanks the drawer open, not here to play around and to his pleasure there they sit, a stack of three whole, untouched chocolate bars. He's even gotten lucky with them, attention locking on the presence of caramel inside. If there was anything that could ever improve chocolate it's extra sugar and now he's got that in spades. His choice to stay home truly was his best move. Time to indulge himself.

And yes, for this he's certainly going to bring you back something sparkly.

~x~

"I'm home!" you announce as you cross the threshold into your home, on habit more than anything. If Michael is still here and not wandering about the town with a knife in hand he already knows it's you. Still, you have no interest in somehow accidentally startling him, not when he could very literally tear you limb from limb. You haven't seen his 'surprised' reflex and you don't want to. Let that be some other poor fool's fate. "Brought home some stuff from a quick swing by the store!"

The house is silent, not that you were expecting any sort of verbal response, but for a moment you think your killer boyfriend is out doing what he does best: haunting Haddonfield. It wouldn't be particularly strange, so you never dismiss it. If he isn't sitting on the couch watching something, in his room making masks, or just staring ominously out of any visible window, then he's likely out in somebody's hedges creeping about.

However, after living with Michael for so long, several years now, you've picked up a spider sense for him and it is telling you that he remains within these walls. In these walls and, if you're not wrong, definitely unhappy. Dang it. It's gonna be a long night, isn't it?

Without turning to look, you lock the door behind you with your free hand while scanning the front of the house, just to see if you missed him. It's happened more than should be physically possible for a man of his build. But he isn't here, not that you can see.

"Hey, Mikey, where ya at?" You risk using a nickname, a gamble on even the best days, but it's worked in the past when a stalk or kill has gone wrong, the usual culprits for his sour moods on days not associated with anything specific. "Are you hurt?"

You're pretty certain he isn't, mostly since you can't see any blood tracked across the tiles. Curious. If there's no blood, then did he even go out? Michael isn't a man to really care about keeping things clean and if he's got blood on him, it's on your floors and walls, too. Maybe someone got away? It's happened before, just bad luck on Michael's part. Someone else shows up right before he gets to move in and he has to call it off simply because of an interruption. Given his desire to stay out of sight, but never out of mind, that blows his plans more than anything else could. It's not that it has to, but you're not going to question a killer's choice of modus operandi.

Makes you wonder if those people ever know how close they came in that moment to death. Also makes you wonder if Michael goes back for them, specifically. You'll never ask. You aren't truly interested in knowing.

As you pick through the house you're cautious, curious if he's in his room, perhaps. You don't think he'd kill you like this, an ambush in the house, but you're not stupid, either. Every day left alive around Michael Myers is by a very specific choice on his end and you don't have much say on that. You'd like to believe he's something akin to fond of you, after all, he's not exactly living and occasionally sleeping with anyone else, but there's a clock ticking on it. Always has been, and always will be.

But you reach the hallway and his door is left cracked open. You don't peek into the room, but just knowing it isn't closed up tells you Michael isn't there. He's not in the bathroom across the hall, either, so says the lights being off and the door not being fully closed. Which leaves your room or the garage and you're willing to bet good money you know which one of those he'd sulk in.

"Michael? What's up?" you question softly as you push your door open with the hand holding the reusable grocery bag that you never bothered to put down as it's not very high on your mental priority list. "Did something happen?"

Even expecting him to be here, when you step into your room and see Michael standing in the middle of it, still as a statue, you can't stop the shiver down your spine. You didn't believe in auras before meeting him but now you're not so sure. For being entirely non-verbal, there is never any mistaking when Michael is displeased with something, it lingers in the air like smoke, and today he is very unhappy.

Luckily, he doesn't have a knife in either hand, meaning this situation can be salvaged. Or, so you hope. Michael hasn't needed a weapon to kill a person for a while and he doesn't need one now. He is, however, holding something in his right hand, but what it is you cannot tell at all.

With a caution used normally around wild animals, you take a couple of steps forward, keeping your eyes on Michael the whole time. "What've you got there?" you ask, careful to maintain the closest thing you can call eye contact while the mask is on. It's odd how much better he reacts if you look him right in the face when he's in one of his moods.

All it takes Michael is a single step towards you to close the gap, putting himself a shred too close for general comfort, though you've grown used to that behavior from him by now. He doesn't stalk as a hobby for nothing. It forces you to tilt your head back to an awkward angle, but you don't step back to correct it. Michael's testing you.

Interestingly though, now that he's this close you catch a whiff of spearmint. Odd, as he doesn't like mint as a flavor. What happened while you were gone?

Seemingly satisfied with whatever he was trying to do in invading your space, Michael offers you the mysterious object clenched in his hand. You wait another moment, making sure he is going to let you take it, and when you're certain you turn your attention to it, reaching out with your free hand for him to give it to you.

What greets you when Michael drops the item into your grip has you biting your tongue in a desperate attempt to not start laughing. Really? Really? This is what set him off into a mood so foul? You know you can't laugh because if you do it's only going to exacerbate the situation but at the same time you can hardly believe it. Does that make the spearmint... your mouthwash?

All it took was a dark chocolate candy bar.

"I told you," you manage to wring out while doing everything in your power to maintain an even voice and not smile. "You won't like my stuff in here. Do you even know what this is?"

Unsurprisingly you don't get any verbal answer, but his body language tells you that he is very displeased with it and that you'd best have a solid explanation for why it was here.

"You're right in that it is chocolate, which is what you were looking for, but it's a bitter type called 'dark chocolate'. It doesn't have as much sugar or milk in it as the kind you like." A simple explanation but one that Michael would hopefully understand. It was rarely worth getting into specifics with him if he wasn't trying for them. "I figured you wouldn't like it and I wasn't wrong."

Michael looks down at the paper sitting in your palm and if looks could kill you're pretty sure your hand would be vaporized.

Now that you're aware of what happened, you don't mind taking your attention from him, walking over to the little trashcan by your desk and throwing the wrapper away. No point in keeping it around. While you're there, you can't help but spot the other two candies in there, crushed into ruin and left behind. Oh well, no point making a fuss for them now. You'll buy yourself some more another day.

When you turn back toward Michael, you can tell his focus is on the bag on your other hand, though the mood in the air is still quite sour. This you can let a small, light laugh at as you put the bag down on your bed. "Well, good news for you!" you chime, reaching in to pull out a handful of milk chocolate bars. "I saw you were running low on chocolate this morning and picked some up along with a couple of other little things on the way back. If you'd waited a bit for me to get home, you'd-"

Unwilling to wait any longer for what he's wanted all day, much less listen to you chide him, Michael snatches the candy out of your hand and immediately starts stalking off, earning a barked laugh from you. Honestly, for a serial killer built like a wall, he is exceptionally childish at times, you think.

Well, at least that has bought you another day in the neighborhood.

[asirensrage]

Find The Words!

I got tagged by @residentdormouse in this. Thanks! This is going to be fun! I tried to keep it to things I haven't posted or shared yet.

The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you're given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story of you want. But honestly, guidelines at best - do what you want.

My words to find: White, Cold, Snow, Frost, Ice, Gloves, Hat, Cocoa (or Tea), Blanket, Snuggle/cuddle (or any variation of this)

No pressure tags: @chickensarentcheap @ninjasawakenedmystar @mabonetsamhain @arrthurpendragon @faithfire-writes @starcrossedjedis and anyone else interested.

Your words: Deception, Ship, Register, Bike, Chair, Leather, Record, Dog, Cream, Gun.

White - (from my Demon Slayer wip The Sacrifice....)

“Apologies,” a woman says. “You did not hear me.” The woman is tiny, dressed with a white coat and a large butterfly clip in her hair. It’s easy to assume she’s the doctor but she looks as though she could blow away in the wind.

Cold - (from my Tokyo Revengers wip Saudade)

Takara ties the laces together and tries not to wince as her feet quickly get cold. She hangs the roller blades around the back of her neck, letting them rest just under her arms. It’s not going to be comfortable, but since Mikey had basically demanded she comply, he could deal with them digging into his back for all she cared. 

Snow - (from my original wip for a Divergent isekai oc Quest)

Since Groucho won’t talk to me, I whistle as we walk. If it happens to be the whistle song from Snow White…well that’s on Groucho here.  A muscle in his jaw is twitching by the time we reach the kitchen.  “Hey Ram! How much did these people eat today?” I call out. The not Steve Rogers looks over at me. He still looks like he’s going to cut me. 

Frost - from the wip part 3 of Unexpected Company - my oc Emma and Eddie Munson)

 “You’re not half bad.” “No?” “I didn’t attempt to pierce my eardrums with a fork, so no.”  “Well that would be a shame,” he says. “Might not be invited back with that kind of trauma in the audience.”  “You could say it was visual effects.” “Even when you’re in the hospital?”  “All part of the act.”  He laughs at that. “Quite an act, Frost. Maybe you should head to Hollywood.” “Can’t,” she says. “Banned. Too many deals with the devil there.” 

Ice - (I just wrote this earlier today for my Tokyo Revengers oc Takara)

She eventually skids to a stop, feeling more like herself. Her mother had forced her into ice skating in return for playing hockey. She never thought it would work like this. The repeated motions work better than any therapy. 

Gloves - (from my My Hero Academia wip Dig My Grave (take my hand))

Sayuri sits on the ground, letting the cold seep in through the floor. Eri is fast asleep on the bed, drained from the experiments done on her. Every time she closes her eyes, she hears Eri’s screams. She sees the way the girl was bound in that chair, Kai leaning over her and taking his gloves off as his man drew blood. Fury rolls through her. She’s getting the kid out. No matter what.

Hat - ...apparently the only mention I've ever written of a hat was Hoppers in Tammy Thompson Takes on the Upside Down and I already posted those scenes...

Cocoa (or Tea) - (I also don't write cocoa...but I do write about tea. At least in my MHA fic...)

Sayuri stares at the small animal that makes up UA’s principal. “Yes, please.” She watches carefully as he pours out tea for both of them before he takes his cup and sits back. Sayuri picks her cup up with her left hand and carefully sips it. It’s light.  “How are you finding your accommodations?” 

Blanket - (from a Sons of Anarchy fic I started and haven't gone back to yet lol)

The phone was ringing. Again.  Her hand shot out from under the covers, smacking down on the nightstand before rummaging around, trying to find it. She yanked it free of the charger as she pulled it under the blanket and answered.  “Hello?” she asked, wondering who the hell was calling her.  “Dad’s dead.” That woke her up.  “What?” “Dad’s dead. Police just called. Apparently, he still had me listed as an emergency contact.”  “God damn it.” She shoved the blanket down and sat up. “Okay. I’m up. Sort of.” She pushed her hair back before running a hand down her face. “Now what?”

Snuggle/Cuddle - (I could only find this in a SPN fic I wrote AGES ago and only posted on ffn, so here...)

"Alright! Magic Fingers!" Dean exclaimed and I turned to raise an eyebrow at him before moving to the bed furthest from the door. "Right, have fun snuggling on that bed." I tossed my bag on the bed and turned to see Sam and Dean sharing awkward looks before playing rock paper scissors. "Son of a bitch!" Dean muttered with a longing glance at the bed. Sam won.

[eusuntgratie]

Okay updates on my hockey ~descent~

I've been reading a bit of bennguin and that was pretty good, I've been looking at some vids and I swear when Tyler got into a fight after someone took a cheap shot at Jamie 😭 like why do I care so much about that?? Anyway I have also just finished reading closed fracture by lightgetsin and it was so lovely <3 so looking for some more recs for sidgeno if you have them! (also why are there (((( all over the place sometimes? I've seen a few in fics and in tweets?) I do really like the Penguins logo and jerseys so maybe I'll follow them closer when things get moving a bit more, its the off season now right? Some other ships I'm a fan of is sterek from teen wolf, Sirius/Remus from hp, Macdennis from iasip, steve/bucky - just pretty basic ones lel 😬

oooooh i'm so excited to answer this okay okay. thank you for the update i love this!

tyler seguin is everyone's favorite slutty bisexual. go bananas in his tag (just #tyler seguin or #seguin) on tumblr and you'll find some great shit. that ship doesn't get as much attention anymore bc benn isn't fandom's favorite. i don't know enough about the stars to know all the reasons, but he did a very dirty and unneccessary hit on the vegas golden knights captain in the playoffs this year and that was enough to make me not like him. i can rec some stars blogs if you want - they are a great team with a solid fandom presence and a lot of young amazing players. and they have seggy :)

um, if you love boys being overprotective on the ice, i can definitely give you some pens moments but ALSO you should look into tknp (travis konecny/nolan patrick). i think i have a #protective tk tag on here you can browse bc the boy goes batshit insane anytime someone touches his boy. one of the big reasons a lot of us fell for that ship. you don't have to be a flyers fan to love them; tk is a fandom darling bc he's so tiny and fighty and wonderful.

also, any decent player is very protective of their goalie, so if you love that dynamic, you might enjoy some defenseman/goalie pairings or there's just some fun clips and gifs out there. i'll try to reblog some stuff for you. give my poor followers a break from the rwrb posting and tzp thirst 😂

DON'T GET ME STARTED ON SIDGENO OH GOD. okay i'll reblog a few posts for them because the things they say about each other are just. alright. you're in love. we get it. okay.

King and Lionheart is the fic that made me fall for sidgeno. There is an excellent podfic available as well.

I could give you a billion sidgeno recs and writers and blogs to follow. What kind of fic do you like? Fluff? Whump? PWP? Kink? ABO? Monsterfuckery? Sidgeno is the most popular hockey rpf ship at least by numbers on ao3; we got it all, baby! I read a lot of angst and porn, so I don't want to throw a bunch of recs at you without knowing what you like :)

((( and )))))))) are russian smileys... so you're probably reading Geno texting. So instead of texting (or tweeting - you can see these in some of his old tweets): i'll be there soon :) he would text i'll be there soon )))

we ARE in the offseason but hockey comes back (relatively) soon. preseason games (exhibition games that don't count towards playoff standings) start at the end of september and the season kicks off in October. The Penguins season opener is vs the Chicago Blackhawks which should be a VERY fun game to watch, bc Chicago drafted Connor Bedard this year, one of the best hockey prospects since Sid himself. Bedard is insanely talented and we are all very eager to see how he does in the NHL. Sid was Bedard's favorite player growing up (he is so many players' favorite player growing up) and they've met and they are both very sweet boys and anyway it will be an interesting game.

Stucky was my first ship since really diving into fandom and I spent a ton of time in Teen Wolf fandom! There's a ton of teen wolf on my ao3, mostly sterek, but i mostly write hockey these days.

feel free to keep sending me questions! there's a lot to learn when you first dive into hockey but i love the sport and love this fandom!!

[snxwflxwers]

ic task 004: Interrogations

Jiwon wasn't surprised she'd been called for a follow up interview. She was, after all, Greer's cousin, and they had a very public rivalry that she had severely downplayed to the police. She knew she wasn't believable. In fact, Jiwon was surprised they hadn't called her out sooner. Her steps as she walked in were of a martyr, simply resigned to what was soon to happen. No point in delaying it.

The officer's unkind eyes didn't quite fit his fakely sympathetic smile, but then again, Jiwon's blank expression wasn't right either. It was uncanny scene, with her lawyer sitting right beside her, analyzing the situation. "It's finals week." Jiwon said, simply. "Let's make it quick, shall we?" The officer nodded.

“Can you talk about your time capsule video? Give us some context for the clip that was leaked?”

Jiwon's eyes were piercingly cold. She had a lot to say about the damn video, and she would. She just had to measure her words to come across the right way. "Well, first of all, I find it ridiculous that the police is asking me that. I've nothing to hide. I'll send you the full video, if you want. I'll submit it as evidence, or whatever." She arched an eyebrow and stole a glance at her lawyer. Being cooperative was good. It'd make her look less guilty. "I would like to know, though, why we're being interrogated about a privacy leak." The detective's eyes mirrorred hers. He didn't trust her, and she didn't trust him either.  

"Were you aware that Greer Morrison had submitted a video at the end of last year?”

Jiwon shrugged. "I'm sure we all imagined it. She might have mentioned it, even." Another glance at her lawyer. They'd talked about the possibility of this question being asked. Jiwon's answer came off as rehearsed, fake, but it was inconspicuous enough to fly under the radar. Or at least, she hoped so. "But if you're asking me if I knew she'd fly off the handle lke that, I didn't." That was true. She was as in the dark as everyone else.  

“Had you ever heard of anything regarding THE NAIVE NEWCOMER using steroids?”

She shook her head. "No. I know very little about him." She could see the office was gearing up to ask a question, but she answered it before he could have a chance. "Yes, I know him being Greer's boyfriend should mean he's close to the family. We didn't have anything in common, so we barely talked, if ever." The detective was running low on patience, she could tell. The lawyer's presence was not helping his opinion of her, but it didn't really matter. Her statement being airtight was.  

“Had Greer brought up breaking up with him ever? Or anything of the sort, like she did in her video?”

Jiwon shook her head again. "You're asking the wrong person. She wouldn't have told me about it, even if she was considering it." She shrugged. It was nice to have a break to tell the full truth. She had a feeling, though, that the detective didn't even believe that. 

“Do you have any reason to believe THE GOLDEN GIRL would want to leave Ogden College?”

The lawyer clearly considered intervening, but Jiwon answered before he could. "No." She said, simply. "She was adventurous. Maybe she just got bored." The officer seemed to buy that one, but there was o way to be sure.

"Were you aware of Greer planning to travel to Portugal this summer?"

Once again, she shook her head to say no. "I guess I knew she liked the idea of going to Portugal, but I don't know why she wouldn't just get her parents money to go." She shrugged, and the officer once again seemed ready to ask another question. "If I had known, I'd have said so during he first interviews. She's my cousin. I'd do anything to bring her back." That one was an obvious lie, but one that'd look good in a court room.

"Were you at the party on June 4th in the Hamptons that Greer is pictured attending on Riley Vanderford’s social media?"

She shook her head again. "I barely know Riley, and Greer rarely invited me to her stuff." Her lawyer watched attentively. Although he'd said more than once that she wasn't there, not even her parents fully believed her. No one was home that day to verify her alibi, though there was security camera outside her house to prove she hadn't left. She had, in fact, been tucked away in her studio, hands busy with melting metal.

"Is there anything you know that you’re not sharing?"

"No." Her voice was strong and confident, a subtle threat that she'd make a scene if they didn't let her go. "Can I go now? I have to study." The detective answered that she could, and in seconds, she had gotten her backpack and was stepping away with her lawyer. "Tell my parents that it went as expected." She said to him, still walking. "I have a feeling there's something off, so it's better to be prepared."

In normal circunstances, she'd never work with her parents to keep herself out of trouble, but there was more at stake here. She was genuinely terrified, even if her face only ever expressed boredom and neutrality.

[chelleztjs18]

Hello you mrs. writer of good stories honey nut cheerio lefty eyebag 😌

Oh to have a kid means never having a neat house. I remember going to my friends house to visit. My niece's room was so clean and tidy, then when she wanted me to play with her, she would just start moving the toys out of her room and make a big mess 🤣

So is the food you just had the first and last thing you'll have for 4 hours and then fast again for another 20? Are you able to drink water or coffee at least?

Woot! Finally part 4 coming out soon! I'm excited for the ending! Then are you gonna start with other stories? Like maybe 10 days? Ahahahaha just kidding no rush no rush.

So my headache is still there. I had a short power nap during my lunch break, but it didn't help any. I thought it was maybe just my eyes are strained, but I guess not. So I don't know what is going on.

Oh no, when I first moved here, it was in CA. Then we moved to FL then to GA. Then when I met my ex, she was in Canada. But then we met friends in NE, and decided to move here.

Ah I know what you mean with the shoes and wet socks. Even though they make water shoes! You goose. But I hate those too just because the splash is so cold lol

Yeah, CA has so many Filipino stores now. I am so sad I don't live there. There is this one place that sells bbq stuff and you can grill it yourself outside.

Hahaha yeah, I'll be bringing back lots of snacks definitely. There's also this one cereal that's been my favorite since I was a child, I might bring back boxes of those.

Ah so when you cook noodles for yourself, what kind do you make?

Thats funny you brought that up, because I was just watching clips of Gloria and how she speaks. Ah so your husband is from CA originally then? How much taller is he than you? Did Emily get half and half of your guys genes then or is she more white?

I stay quiet too when I am around someone I don't like. But if they keep pushing, I just walk away. Cause I don't want to say anything that I would regret. But I avoid those people anyway.

Has a stranger ever changed your life or made an impact?

-CuriousGeorge

Aaw that was a sweet nickname for me.. thank you so much.. i appreciate ur support n thank u for reading my stories.

Oh yeah thats so true.. it can change from clean n tidy to a mess in a second.lol. thats why we call her the hurricane Em or tornado Em.lol.

Well, actually i can eat whatever i want in 4hours window. i eat after 20hours fasting n then usually i eat something else around 30minutes or last minutes before the eating window ends so i wont get hungry too early.

Yeah u can drink water, tea or coffee that's plain. No sweet at all. I drink water and iced tea the whole day.

Haha yeah, pt. 4 is done.. i might start putting it in the tumblr n post it tonight. So stay tune! Hahaha.

N maybe after this i will focus on last chapter of my lost in assistance series, ten days n lesson learned. Or some of my old requests.

I know what u meant with water shoes but it usually for swimming or surfing or water activity. 😆 i wouldnt wear it all day at the park.lol.

Talking about a "water" ride. I remember this one ride that i tried once n i will never do it ever again. I forgot what it's called but i think it's the Nemo Submarine or something. It's in disneyland. Gosh that one ride is a torture to me.

It's just a submarine ride that take u under the water n u can see like robotic fish n coral n sometimes underwater screen that shows nemo movie. What bothers me is it's a long narrow submarine-like ride n they put a lot of people sit along the submarine n face to face pretty close. N then goes under water n it moves slow. It's so narrow that it started to give me anxiety n panic attack. Plus it's gross me out because i imagine the air in it is not clean with that many people breath in it. It feels weird n imagine what kind of germs that comea out of other's breath. Also it feels so weird with that many people in it n u dont know what to do, i felt like people watch me or something even though they all watch the window n dont even care about me... thank god when it starts to get harder to breath for me, the ride ended. So yeah imagine 3 of my fear or anxiety triggers combined in one confined place. Claustrophobic, germphobic and my social anxiety. Lol. Just google or youtube the ride so u'll see.what i meant. 😁

Oh no, im sorry.. maybe because u look at the screen too much? Did u take medicine or anything?

Wow u moved a lot.. that must be hard.

I like any thinner noodle. Panfried or soupy..doesnt matter, as long as it's spicy.haha.

Yes. He was born n raised in CA. He's like 6ft, blue eyed, his hair is light brown. N i'm 5'2 lol. So i think im about a little bit under his shoulder. I think Em is mixed pretty good but looks a little more white.lol. my friends n family say that she looks like the white version of me 🤣🤣🤣

For me, she looks just how i want it. U can see the asian in her but more dominant in the white looks. Good color on her eyes n hair. N she is definitely gets his height genes. She is more than half of my height. Lol. When she was born she looked very very asian n she changed A LOT. 😅 my husband wanted her to look more asian. Lol.

Ah i see..thats true. We r kinda similar.

Hmmm i dont really remember. I think someone help me to get me out of the pushing n crazy crowd in linkin park concert. Otherwise i might be dead from getting stomped.lol. u?

Next question?

Cheerio!

[phantomenby]

Stalkers

Poly!tlb x reader x star x michael

TW// stalker themes, yandere, idk general creepy vamp shit

It started a month after you moved to Santa Carla.

The notes that is. And the gifts, the sounds of footsteps on your roof top, flashes of faces in the corners of your vision, the feeling of being watched at every moment.

You dreaded the night. The sun was your only solace.

You hadn't wanted to move here, having grown up in Alaska where it was significantly colder and known more for its amazing forest views than anything. But work had dragged you out here, and so you traded your snow for coarse, dry sand.

At least food was cheaper.

The house you had been given was quaint, you couldn't think of a better way to describe it. Set just half a mile from any other civilisation, the garden lush with grass and vegetatio despite how dry the land was else where. Your favourite was the large trees which built a wall around most of the property, giving you some shade from the sun when you were still getting used to the head.

It was a bungalow, of sorts. The attic had been converted by the old couple who used to live there, and naturally the upstairs was all your own private space, a bedroom-office combo with a beautiful round window that let the light shine in.

After a week you were settled, and you could see it becoming your very own paradise. You were young after all and there was no point in fretting over a home that you might be dragged out of in a few months.

Then, one Sunday, May twenty-second, the first of them arrived.

-

You never wanted to leave your bed. I mean, it was a cheap mattress you had bought on sale at some shoddy store, but it was just so so soft.

That was down to the bedding you had - sweet cream coloured brushed cotton, even your teal toned quilt and pillow covers were made of it. If a sheep was kept clean all its life you were sure it would feel like this.

But alas, your dumb human brain wouldn't let you mooch for too long without guilt.

The house was still and you could hear birds chirping in the morning hours as you climbed down the narrow, steep steps from your upper floor abode.

It was still a little messy since you had been on a little shopping trip the day before. But you needed new clothes since you had few things for this kind of heat, nor anything of real fashion.

You didn't really care for fashion, if you liked how it looked and the feel of it didn't make your skin crawl you were happy. But your new and only friend, Gina, had insisted on taking you to some of the cheaper shops she knew you would be able to find a few nice pieces in.

Now your bank account crying at you.

Instinctually you went to the coffee pot in the kitchen, prepping enough for the day and turning it on, enjoying the scratchy broken sound the ancient machine made as you went to open the backdoor and let air through.

"What to do, what to do..." putting away shopping was the furthest thing from your mind, it was the last day of the weekend before you had to go meet clients all week. You wanted to do something fun.

The machine stopped and you went to the freezer, pulling out an ice tray from the top shelf and bringing it to the counter. You grabbed a glass and began prepping your chosen beverage, sweet iced coffee with condensed milk and cream. You were bound to die before you reached thirty but by god, your taste buds would be satisfied.

As you worked you glanced out the window towards the driveway, your boxy yellow beetle still safe and sound, albeit covered in dust and sand but still cute.

You grabbed a spoon and muddled the ingredients together, heading to the front, it wasn't mail day but you also hadn't checked since Wednesday. Maybe you'd recieved something fun from your boss, she was known to send you silly magazine clips that she thought looked cool, it was a good thing she was an office gal and not someone in control of the arts department.

It was already hot outside, the summer months would be worse. At least you'd never worry about rickets. A small win in the murder capital of the world.

Taking a sip you nearly moaned. Recently you had been visiting a little market stall that came round the other side of town every Tuesday, some sweet old man called Tom bought beans of every variety with him, but this was a special brew and tasted like heaven in your morning cup. And your midday cup, and your dinner cup, thinking on it you might have a problem.

Oh well.

You could make sight of it now, your little blue mailbox, still standing proud now that a metal beam connected it to the ground. It was the only way to get those dreadful skaters to stop knocking into it with their cars as they headed down the backstreets.

And it was most definetly there before you moved in, yes thats right officer its not funny that their car wrapped around it.

It was very funny, you would happily do it again.

"Oh hell yes," there was something there, a small bundle and a few tiny envelopes, they were new. Maybe Marie was trying a new thing, maybe she was becoming human at last and learning to communicate like one too. Wouldn't that be a sight.

You didn't spare another glance at them as you strolled back home, regretting the decision not to wear a hat as the sun blinded your poor corneas.

Pushing the door open you gave yourself a moment to enjoy the heat leaving you, fortunately, the house had good airflow, could have done with curtains too but oh well.

When you placed down the letters you immediately went for the thick stack you recognised, inside was enough clippings to make a whole new magazine, and you were particularly enjoying some of the more colourful clothing hidden within. One thing about this part of the US was how eccentric things could be in terms of style.

It didn't take long to sort through them, and by the time you were done your coffee was almost void of ice so you added some of it black to help with the wateryness, the dark liquid now alot cooler than before.

What next caught your eye was the small number of light, dainty letters. They were pretty, the paper thin and almost seethrough to the point you doubted you needed to do more than hold them up to the light to know what was written on them.

Though, there where were stickers holding them closed. Flowers, kiddie shaped ones, even one made to look like melted wax.

This was...most unlike Marie.

You opened one with a daffodil sticker on it, feeling the smooth edge as you lifted the cover and pulled the letter out.

It was one sided, glancing at the envelope you saw the words 'our love' written, scrawled in beautiful calligraphy.

"What the hell..."

Maybe this wasn't for you, maybe the old owner. No. You shook your head. They were dead, passed almost a year ago and having lived in the house for half a century.

You unfolded it, eyes raking over the words a thousand times.

It was, poetry? It was beautiful, but you hated poetry, your grandmother made you recite it to her every Sunday after church and you despised how obsessive people became over words which could hold nothing, or everything. It was always too hard to decipher, to analyse. Never something you saw as affectionate.

My carnation,

the air in my lungs,

I wish to breathe.

Wont you come home to me?

What the fuck.

You reached for another, one with a pink heart sticker. Christ.

There was a lipstick print, still rosy and smelling faintly of chocolate, thick and plump.

I will be your starlight,

your moonlight,

your sunlight,

your lifeline.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. No thank you.

You didn't touch the other two, leaving them on the counter and stepping back.

-

It took an hour of pacing and another cup of coffee before you opened the final ones.

One held some dried pressed flowers, and the other with the words 'we'll be waiting for you, our little love'.

Your little paradise was now a prison, more letters came and things unexplainable kept happening.

Thing got better after some time, after you went to the police. They were basically useless though, telling you they couldn't do anything unless your stalker(s?) threatened to harm you.

Which the letters never did.

At one point they stopped. And you thought you might finally be left alone to recoup your mental state. But no, instead, when they started again they were werse.

Obsessive. Deranged.

They talked about personal things, what you had been up to, the changes you made in your home, everything you wore, when you cut your hair, when you changed roles at work.

One time there was money in one of the envelopes, a thick stack of twenties with a note saying it was for your car, which had been hit by someone why you were down at the boardwalk with it. The damage wasn't bad but you had been pretty bummed by the large scratch and dent marring the pretty pale yellow paint.

You supposed that was the only positive thing to come out of it.

But in the end you couldn't do it. You couldn't take the money and fix your sweet little bug, choosing to look at the dent sadly each day as you continued to work.

Soon enough you would get paid anyway.

Then you would fix it.

Today you had headed out into town, wanting to pick up some groceries since your fridge and cupboards were pretty bare and the last thing you needed was to be a grumpy rat while taking calls for the rest of the week.

The sky was already growing dark and you decided to be as quick as you could, hating the idea of driving down the pitch black roads late at night.

When you arrived at the 24-hour-has-everything-you-could-ever-need store it was almost desolate, just a truck driver and some bikes parked out front.

Walking in soothed you, but the AC kept making an awful rattling sound that made your spine tingle.

The trucker was talking to the attendant, clearly happy to have someone to mellow out with for a small while before he had to get back on the road.

In the back by some drinks fridges was who you assumed to be the bikers, a tall blonde with wild hair and a long dirtied coat, his smaller counter-part adorning much more colourful attire.

As you walked around with your cart they kept glancing at you, their wide, bright eyes burning into your back.

Your cart was already pretty full by the time you had made it halfway through the store. Stacked high with snacks and cupboard food that would last you a long while.

Honestly, you probably should buy some plants, you were going to be here a while and it wouldn't hurt you to grow some of your own food, maybe even start a little garden.

"Something catch your eye sugar?"

You jumped with a squeak, dropping the can of coffee in your hand, watching as it was caught by a pale hand just before it hit the ground.

"Gotta be careful hun, gonna make a mess."

Looking up you were met with pale blue eyes, wide and bright like a puppy's with something darker shining within.

His brow was arched as you continued analysing him, leaning down closer to you til his lips met your ear, "I think you dropped this."

Before you could respond the cold can was pushed to your chest, your hands instinctively coming up to hold it.

He left you with a smile, yanking on his friend's jacket as he brushed past you.

What the hell

-

A week later, there was $56.23 in your mailbox.

The exact amount you spent at the grocery store.

[thisismysecondrodeo]

that swop gifset got me thinking....ted punching someone to defend his love??? we need your take on that pretty please??? and they being the only one that gets him to take a step back??? so beard is like....wait...you're down bad, my friend.

AN: An excuse to watch clips of SWOP again? An excuse to dream of Jason Sudeikis saying “that’s for my girl!”? An excuse to pine over the perfect man that is fictional Ted Lasso? Done, done, and done-er.

Rating: Teen

Tags: Roy Kent/Keeley Jones (background), Coach Beard/Ms. Bowen (background), One Shot, Sleeping with Other People themed, light Violence but with Romantic Intention, Referenced Emotional Abuse, Getting Together

Fic masterlist

-

No one was more surprised than you at how quickly you’d opened up to Ted Lasso. When you took a job at AFC Richmond you certainly thought it would be a job like any other. Nice people and a cool venue, maybe, but a job nonetheless. You did what was needed and you went home and hung out with your real friends, not your work friends. 

But Ted didn’t seem to distinguish between work friend and real friend, and he convinced you time and time again to join him and the coaching staff for a drink or dinner or karaoke, and you started to return the favor inviting him out to your own favorite haunts for coffee or lunch or window shopping. It only took a few weeks of Roy and Beard saying, “maybe next time,” until the default was just you and Ted. You and Ted going to the movies, you and Ted eating ice cream and talking about your families, you and Ted going for a walk on the green and discussing past relationships. You and Ted on his couch making your way through a Rom Com Competition Bracket.

But they weren’t dates. At least, neither of you had ever said they were dates. 

One Saturday in particular, Ted invited you out to a new bookstore/wine bar that had opened across town, and the two of you ran into Keeley. She was scoping out the venue for an event for a client and practically flung herself into Ted's arms. Ted saw it coming and stood up from where he sat in order to brace himself before returning to his seat with a grin.

“Babe,” she squealed when she saw you, “I can’t believe I’ve been THIS out of the loop, exactly how long have you two been shagging?!” 

Your cheeks warmed immediately and you wished she was using her inside voice but you weren’t sure she had one. You looked over at Ted and tried to see what Keeley was seeing: 

tiny table (there were bigger options but Ted picked this one because it was near a window)

both of you on one side so you could read the same book (Ted holding it open while you turned the pages)

two glasses of wine (you had gotten a sangria and he had gotten a white wine, but you didn’t like yours and he happily traded) 

a shared stack of books in between you (the two of you picked out books that you both wanted to read so you could pass them back and forth)

So, yeah, it certainly looked like something was going on. You had paused so long Ted thought you were floundering and he responded for you. “Oh, Y/N and I, we’re not—”

“I’m meeting Roy for dinner at the Crown & Anchor in a couple hours, you two should come! Double-date!!” Keeley hadn’t heard a word and was looking down at her phone so she also wasn’t picking up on the visual cues that something was amiss. You and Ted looked at each other and you shrugged with a small smile, “yeah, sure. We’ll come to dinner.” 

Keeley was out the door with a squeal and cheek kisses for you both and you laughed at the whole situation. 

“Sorry, Ted, I probably should have done more to correct that.” 

“No, no,” Ted waved a hand and smiled, “I’m certainly not upset bein’ mistaken for someone that could be datin’ you.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly at Ted’s sentiment. The two of you were flirty sure, but that was as direct as he’d ever been that he might be interested in something more than friendship. 

“Should we chug this chapter and read these drinks and head that way,” Ted joked, either oblivious to your emotional turmoil or changing the subject for his own benefit. You laughed and nodded, picking up your glass and turning the page. 

Roy and Keeley were already at the Crown & Anchor when you and Ted arrived, chatting with Beard who you didn’t expect but you were happy to see all the same. 

“Five of us then,” you asked as you walked over to the group, Ted just behind you, a polite hand on your lower back. 

“Ah, six actually,” Beard said with a sheepish look that was unlike him. 

You looked at him quizzically but it was Roy who explained, “Seems like everyone’s in a surprising fuckin’ secret relationship. Beard and Phoebe’s fuckin’ teacher, you and Ted...” 

Beard quirked his eyebrow at ‘you and Ted’, but you shook your head, “Misunderstanding, we’re just friends.” 

“No fuckin’ way,” Keeley and Roy responded in unison, and then gave each other a cheeky smile. Ted said nothing, just lead the group over to a six-top as Ms. Bowen joined from the bathroom, a pint already in hand. 

“I was just at the bar, and that bloke over there is a right arse,” Ms. Bowen clucked her tongue, teacherly even on her night off. “He’s already sloshed and it’s barely 6:30.” 

“Did he say something to you?” Beard immediately made like he was going to stand up, but Ms. Bowen stopped him with a hand to the arm and a kiss to the cheek. 

“S’fine darling, just annoying,” she replied and Ted craned his neck.

“He looks annoying,” Ted responded, and you looked too and gasped. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered and Ted looked at you immediately. The rest of the group got on with their conversation, so you felt comfortable leaning into him and to privately say, “that’s Ben.” 

“Ben…,” Ted looked at you confused, and then his eyes widened, “BEN, Ben?”

You nodded emphatically. Ben was your ex-boyfriend and your last relationship. You and Ted had spoken about him extensively. The ways he had manipulated you, the reasons you stayed with him for so long and how much you regretted it now. Ted, more than anyone else knew the emotional toll the man at the bar had taken on you. 

“Do you.. Do you want me to go talk to him,” Ted whispered and you could see a vein in his forehead flexing. 

“No, no, I would much rather have a good time,” you patted Ted’s hand in a way you meant to be reassuring, but you realized your own hand was shaking. You weren’t scared of Ben, he’d never harmed you, but you were embarrassed and anxious that you’d have to deal with him in front of your friends. 

You managed to ignore Ben’s presence even as he antagonized people at the bar and made a ruckus by the dart board. Keeley and Roy begged off first after dinner, having to go pick up Phoebe from Roy’s sister’s. You, Ted, Beard and Ms. Bowen could have moved around now that there were fewer people at the table, but you chose to stay tucked into Ted’s side and he didn’t seem to mind. 

“One last pint,” you asked Ted and he agreed, so you stood and he made to follow you. “No, it's okay, I’ll grab them on my way back from the bathroom.” 

It had quieted at the bar, so you had truly forgotten that Ben was even there, but as you stopped and asked Mae for two more pints you knew it was him who had sidled up behind you. Sure, you and Ted flirted, but he would never grab you by the hip like that, quick and aggressive. 

“Loveyyy,” Ben droned low in your ear, “One of those for me, yeah?” 

“Fuck off, Ben,” you responded quietly, accepting the pints from Mae and making to return to the table. 

“Ben, you know you’re cut off and if you keep acting an arse in my bar, I’ll have to ask you to leave," Mae said sternly. Ben held up his hands in a gesture of innocence but as soon as you took a step he blocked your path. 

You sighed, “Ben, seriously? I don’t want to nor do I have to play your silly games. Pardon me.” You stepped to the side and so did Ben. He loomed over you and was just drunk enough that although he’d never hurt you before, you couldn’t quite trust his intentions. 

Ted appeared at your elbow, his hands in the pockets of his khakis. You knew because you always checked his hands first when things were tense. He was looking only at you, not Ben. 

“Need a hand, I can grab one of those,” Ted offered and you handed him one of the pints with a smile. He stepped back so you could walk in front of him and he could keep Ben away from you, but Ben wouldn’t be put off so easily. 

“Oh, what not even going to ask after me mate,” Ben asked aggressively, shoulder checking Ted so his beer sloshed to the already sticky floor. 

Ted chuckled but it was a humorless sound. You quickly sat your beer on the table with Beard and Ms. Bowen who were so lost in each other they hadn’t noticed anything going on. You hurried back to Ben and Ted to try to keep the peace. 

“Ah, no need to ask after you,” Ted responded, “I  know who ya are. And we ain’t mates.” 

“You’re shaggin’ this old man now, Y/N? Best you could do after me?” 

You rolled your eyes, expecting Ted to shake his head and walk away but you were surprised when he sat his beer down and shook his hands out before putting them back in his pockets, the vein in his forehead flexing again. You’d never seen him so agitated. You picked up Ted’s beer, and pulled one of his hands out of his pocket and into your own, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. It seemed you were getting through to him because he looked at you and this time his small smile seemed genuine. 

He turned to follow you, his hand firmly in yours but then Ben pressed a rough hand into his shoulder. “I bet she’s blowing your fuckin’ mind, isn’t she mate? Does she do that thing with her tongue? She’s always been such a little sl—”

Ben was cut off by Ted’s fist hitting the side of his chin, and he went down, hard. Ted had pulled himself from your grasp in order to hit him and now he stood over him, chest heaving with rage, the bar silent around you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped and Beard was near you in an instant, pulling you away in case things escalated, but Ben just sat up and didn’t move to continue the fight. Ted grabbed him by the collar of his shirt anyway. “You didn’t deserve her, ya hear me,” Ted said quietly. 

“It’s okay Ted, s’alright,” you called to him, and Beard tugged him away, giving Mae an apologetic wave and hustling all of you outside. As soon as the cold air hit, Ted turned remorseful. 

“Ah jeez, I’m sorry,” Ted said looking down at his feet as he walked next to Beard, you and Ms. Bowen behind. 

“Don’t need to apologize to me,” Beard grunted. “But I also don’t think you and Y/N are much of a 'misunderstanding'. We’ve been friends for many years and I’ve made many enemies, and I’ve never seen ya like that.” 

“Well, Beardo, you can defend yourself…” 

“Sure. Rupert’s still unpunched though. He just got a game of darts.” 

Ted chuckled and Beard patted him on the back reaching for Ms. Bowen’s hand to lead her away from the pub. “Just talk to her.” 

You walked up behind Ted, looping your arm through his as Beard and Ms. Bowen disappeared into the night, having heard none of their quiet conversation. The two of you started walking towards Ted’s in silent agreement and quiet contemplation.

 Ted stopped outside of his apartment, “You’re welcome to come up, but I understand if you, ah, need some space. I’m so sorry, Y/N, that was… I should have controlled myself better.”

“That was probably the best thing anyone has ever done for me. And incredibly hot,” you slipped in the last part quickly and Ted smiled as he turned to meet your eye. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you responded. “Makes me wonder how else you might…lose control.” You trailed a bold finger down the buttons of Ted’s shirt and watched as he blushed. 

“Well in that case,” Ted inclined his head up towards his apartment and you nodded. “I’ll do anything for my girl.” 

You grinned at that, and hooked a finger in between the buttons of Ted’s shirt, stopping him before he could walk up the stairs and pressing your lips to his, trying to impart everything you felt for him. He met you eagerly, a gentle hand to your jaw to tilt your face and properly slot your lips together. You pulled away just enough to make your way safely up the stairs and not embarrass yourselves in front of Ms. Shipley. 

The heat cooled a little when the two of you made it in the apartment, the gravity of the shift in your relationship really settling over you. But you smiled and so did he as the two of you sat on the couch, barely a breath of space between you. 

“I know this is going to sound crazy because Ben and I broke up a year ago, but god, that felt like closure. I feel like I owe you, Ted.” 

Ted took your hand in his and you met his gaze, surprised at the amount of emotion you saw there, “I love you for free, Y/N.” 

“I love you for free. Ted.”  

[mlmxreader]

Keep A Close Eye | Corinthian x nb!reader

Anonymous asked: Corinthian x angel!reader

He thinks he can fix the Corinthian but uno reverse he ends up falling (in multiple ways) for him :)

summary: sent to keep an eye on the Corinthian, you can't say you're exactly surprised when you develop certain feelings that an angel should never feel for a nightmare.

tws: mentions of murder and violence, swearing, smoking

You were assigned to keep an eye on the Corinthian, as a being with similar phsyical power to the Endless - although not quite as strong as them - it was easy for you to get in his good books; he has you down in two seconds. An angel with a soft spot for the mortals' rock and metal music and their horror films. Corinthian had you pinned down to a T in seconds; he didn't mind you hanging around, though, he quite liked your company and he thought it was funny to tease you here and there. He liked having you around, he liked it when you sat in the passenger seat of his Mustang and you felt the wind between your fingertips and sang along to CDs he had in his car; he didn't think he would ever hear 'Girls, Girls, Girls' by Mötley Crüe sung so beautifully ever again. He didn't think he'd hear the words with such passion and joy that it made him grin.

You weren't just there to keep an eye on him, though, admittedly, you had always had your curiosity about the nightmare; you had always been quite curious about humanity, too. You felt more at home with the term nonbinary than their other terms, and when you told Corinthian, he immediately switched to what you liked; maybe humanity was rubbing off on him, maybe he wasn't as much of a dick as everyone had told you. He was... good, really; you were certain that if he was given the time and patience and kindness... maybe he would actually stop killing. Maybe.

Still, those nights where you wandered around the empty streets and holding onto his arm and leaning into his side and sharing earbuds, listening to Mötley Crüe - he seemed to really like that one band - were probably some of the best nights you had ever had; the nights where he would pull you under a bus stop and he would sit on the red bench with his legs spread and keep you between them, his hands on your sides as he watched you so closely, so carefully, as you lit up a cigarette. "My angel," he would whisper under his breath, not wanting you to hear it, "all mine".

You wished. You really, really, wished that was the truth, but you knew it could never happen; he was a nightmare, he killed for pleasure, he killed because he enjoyed it and he liked it. You were an angel, you were meant to protect, you were made to keep things safe and sound. You weren't like him. But you helped him in the end; you managed, at least, to steer him towards those who deserved it. Such as the prince who had been hanging around with child abusers. You pointed him towards those who really did deserve it, if you couldn't get him to stop, you could at least make sure he wasn't going after people who didn't deserve it.

Your wings were clipped, so to speak, as when you were asked when you were going to return, you couldn't give a straight answer; you didn't want to leave him. You couldn't. He was... he was good. He was good, really. You just had to rewrite an ending that would fit; you had to change the story. You couldn't give him back to the Endless.

Still, you weren't shy, not really, and as you laid on your stomach on the bed, you stretched your wings out; great brown feathers a stage for the dancing golden light that streamed in through the cracks in the curtains. Some old rock song on the speaker as you watched the Corinthian.

"Y'know, angel," he started, "we make a pretty good team."

You dared to laugh a little as you shrugged. "Not a likely duo is it, though? An angel and a nightmare? Might as well be a dog and a snake."

"We still make a good team," he told you, coming over and pressing a glass of iced coffee into your hand as he dared to smile. He never could stop looking at you. The way you looked when you were so relaxed... that was his favourite.

When you were relaxed and your wings were out and he could run his fingers along the brown feathers, reminding him of a long eared owl in both looks and texture, knowing he was the only one who was allowed to do such a thing, knowing that you only trusted him to touch your wings; the way you groaned and squirmed into his touch. The lazy smiles. That was always his favourite.

"Maybe I ought to stick around," you mused. "If we make such a good team."

Moving to kneel in front of you, Corinthian didn't waste time, his hand on your jaw as he cleared his throat and groaned softly. "I never thought I'd meet an angel I actually liked."

"And yet here I am," you chuckled. "Although, I never thought I'd meet a serial killer I actually liked... a lot."

"A lot?" He quirked a brow, pouting his lips a little. "Did I just hear an angel say that they like a nightmare a lot?"

"Oh, shove off," you laughed, playfully shoving his face with your free hand as you moved to sit up, the ruffle of your feathers creating a slight breeze like someone had left the ceiling fan on its lowest setting for a moment. "You have any idea of how much fucking shit I could get into if I was..."

"Who cares?" Corinthian scoffed. "We're not there. We're here, with the mortals. Who's gonna know, angel?"

"I guess you got a point," you nodded. "Are you sure that you can stay tied down, though? I know you have an appetite for-"

"I'm sure," he nodded, gently tracing the top of your wing just to make you shiver. "If you are."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[honklore]

invisible string | dreamwastaken

(requested plot by red string of fate soulmate au, dream is still a streamer, reader has commitment issues, dream just wants someone to love, chat is the best wingman, sapnap and george try but they suck, reader is timid but dream makes them feel brave, taylor swift references, this is not very deep or poetic at all, i don’t like typing y/n so after this i’m going to move to ___)

listen to: invisible string by taylor swift

In kindergarten, red strings were simply a crafting tool, and teachers never mentioned how much pain they would eventually bring.

Because when they appear, from a child’s eighteenth birthday and beyond, they tighten like a godforsaken high school ring that came in one size too small. Like the universe is a child tugging their mother towards the ice cream truck, you’re pulled around central Florida, passes faces you can’t memorize and voices too garbled to hear.

The string knows where you need to go, and when.

And you’re at the park, feeding ducks and trying to ignore that incessant pull that tugs at your pinky, when you hear it.

It’s a voice you know only because it’s a voice that’s been in your house before. At least, through your brother’s tablet screen. Some gamer online — a streamer, with a distinct wheezing laugh that you’d recognize anywhere.

And you do. Behind you.

You risk a small peak, and your heart drops into your chest. He’s tall. Too tall to not intimidate you. And his sandy hair is wavy, curling at the collar of his sweatshirt, falling perfectly into place when he runs his hands through it. When he does, you see it, the red string.

Which means he could see it too. All he’d have to do is turn around.

But you’re not ready. You haven’t been, not since you watched your cousin get rejected on her eighteenth birthday. Since you watched a string of fate get clipped in front of you, like the three fates had finally had enough of your cousin’s happiness.

It was enough to make you curl into yourself, and reject the natural pull set before you. So you run, and you try not to think of what would’ve happened if he saw you before you saw him. You try not to feel the clippers, but the blade feels tangible against your skin.

You don’t stop running until you arrive home.

“Hey chat, just wanted to do a few practice runs and catch up with you guys,” Dream mumbles into the mic, already restarting his game after deciding he didn’t like his seed. The donos begin rolling in, even before Sapnap and George have unmuted, so Dream flits his eyes to the display screen, subconsciously reading along with the text-to-speech voice, “Dream, what if we shared a string of fate? Ahaha, just kidding... unless... love you bestie.”

Dream chuckles, “Actually chat, I felt a tug today! Isn’t that weird? I was actually reading up on what that could mean, and it seems like either my soulmate is in a lot of distress, or they were in my vicinity. I’m hoping, for their sake, it’s the second one. How would you even comfort a soulmate if all you can do is tug on a stupid string?”

“Simp!” George finally unmutes just to be annoying, and Dream knows soulmates are a touchy spot for him, considering he wasn’t given a string on his eighteenth. Which is strange, but not impossible. Of course, chat doesn’t know this, because it would give them more hope of becoming George’s metaphorical soulmate, but it certainly makes for awkward conversations once Dream and Sapnap get into their own soulmate bonds.

“I’m not simping, George!” Dream feels a bit defensive, because he’s genuinely just curious. He has no interest in meeting his soulmate right now. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He has his streams, and his friends, and chat. He’s fine.

[abbywastaken donated $10: dream why don’t you go back to where you felt the pull and see if you feel it again? that’s how i found my soulmate. okay luv u bye.]

“Thanks, Abby. Love you, too. Um, honestly I was in a pretty public place, so I don’t know if they would even come back anytime soon. Also, this is Orlando, right? Tourists are everywhere.”

Sapnap snorts, and Dream thinks it’s funny, since he’s in the other room. “Just say you’re a coward and go.”

“I’m not!” Dream says. “It was just a small pull, okay? It wasn’t even a big deal.”

He feels another lurch when he says that, but this one is in his chest. It taps against his heart, a quick reminder that it beats for someone else, and he needs to watch his words. “Okay, it was a big deal. Sort of. I’ll go tomorrow, okay chat?”

Chat is spamming all types of messages, from encouragement to jealousy. Dream manages to read off a few donos and create his first nether portal of the stream. He answers as they appear, eyes scanning for a fortress. “No, I didn’t see them… I’m not telling you guys where I was, that’s weird… I’m wearing a sweatshirt and jeans… Hi, Sarah and Patrick…”

He trails off as the donos do, and works at getting blaze rods. George is talking about a riddle he just learned, and he’s trying to trick Sapnap into saying something stupid.

Lost in his own thoughts, he finally closes the stream after a hasty goodbye. “What if I missed my chance?” He asks the two boys on the other line.

“It’s a string of fate, Dream,” George says. “You didn’t miss your chance.”

“Maybe they saw how ugly you are and ran away,” Sapnap says, completely joking, but the thought lingers in Dream’s head.

Did they feel the tug, and run away?

You pour cereal for yourself, and when your brother shuffles into the kitchen, you make him a bowl as well.

He’s eleven, and as little brothers go, he’s pretty chill. Aside from the inappropriate jokes and hogging the bathroom when you have to get ready for work, you like hanging around with him.

You pass him his bowl, and he grins. “I’m gonna watch Dream’s new video on the TV, since mom’s not home.”

You furrow your brows. Dream must be one of the dozens of streamers he likes. Maybe one of his friends will be in chat with him, and you will be able to connect a voice to a face. “Can I sit with you?”

He gives you an odd look, and it’s true, you don’t ask to watch videos with him often. “I guess.”

You eat a spoonful of cereal and settle into the couch while he gets everything ready. He clicks on a lime green icon of a little white blob man, and when the first video appears, you’re taken aback by the voice.

That’s the voice you heard. It’s this one, out of all the random men yelling about a block game. It’s Dream.

“Why doesn’t he show his face?” You manage, wanting information about the person that shares your string.

“What?”

“Like, he’s handsome, right? Why doesn’t he have a facecam?”

Your brother snorts. “Handsome? He’s never shown his face, Y/n. Don’t you know who Dream is? He’s like, super famous.”

“Oh.” You think of his golden hair, as sunny and soft as the glow around his entire being. His voice right now, joyous as he gets chased by his friends. “I mean, I don’t keep up with streamers.”

He begins to explain Dream and his friends, along with lore in their role play server, and it’s all interesting enough that you sit and listen, holding on to the little bits of information you can collect about your soulmate.

You file these facts in a secluded corner of your brain and try to make a whole person, along with the hair and the laugh and the intense music he plays as he gets hunted by his friends.

By nightfall, you’re following all of his socials and binge-watching his old streams, holding on to the way he speaks to his friends, and the fond way he replies to donos.

[dreamwastaken is live!]

You click on it, bundled underneath your covers as if someone might see you and find out your secret.

“Hi, chat! I know I was just live yesterday, but I cut it too short and wanted to come talk to you guys.”

He uses his avatar to wave at the screen, and it’s kind of an adorable sight.

[gogysimp donated $25: did you go see your soulmate?]

Your heart stops. Does he know? Did he see you? Or even worse, has he already found someone else, and he just hasn’t severed the tie?

“No!” Dream’s laugh pulls you out of your worries. “I was busy with meetings today, actually. And I was too nervous. Sapnap also refused to come with me, so I’m just going to go another day.”

So he didn’t see you. He just knows you were there.

You click the donate tab before you can stop yourself.

[y/n donated $1: would you reject your soulmate if you didn’t like them?]

Dream mumbles the question, and you try to ignore the way your heart deflates when he skips saying your name. “I don’t think so,” he states plainly. “I mean, logically, a soulmate would be your other half, so I wouldn’t not like them. But I know some people just don’t click, or there are other issues. So, I don’t know. I guess the only thing I can say is that I don’t want to reject them. And I hope they don’t reject me. I mean, imagine finding out your soulmate is a Minecraft Youtuber. That would be pretty weird…”

You giggle to yourself as he trails off and answers another donation. So he’s against rejection. Okay. Maybe you have a chance.

[kyra donated $60: i’m your soulmate.]

“Meet me where you felt the tug, then,” Dream says sassily. “Chat, don’t be weird, okay? I can’t control who my soulmate is, and I don’t want you guys to exclude them if they become a pat of my life.”

Oh, you think. So his chat is vocal about their opinions, and apparently they mean a lot to him. You shiver despite your warm position and imagine how annoying you might seem to his loyal viewers: someone who only knew about him because of their brother.

Insecurity pushes against your chest, so you close the stream and push your phone away, hoping to forget this ever happened, that maybe you won’t have to deal with the inevitable if you don’t think about it.

Yogurt Barn isn’t the first place on your list of dream jobs, but it has decent pay and helps you pay off student loans, so you appreciate it nonetheless. The teal sweatshirt they gave you as a uniform keeps you warm as you scoop the frozen treats.

Your coworker, a girl named Madison, is busy manning the counter, so you check each flavor and refill the ones running empty.

“Can I ask you a question?” Madison met her soulmate, Anna, only days after she got her string. It was a textbook romance, two people meant for each other, no doubt in anyone’s mind. She might be able to help you now. That is, if you can even admit to who your soulmate is.

“What’s up?”

“I felt the tug,” you say, avoiding her eyes in favor of restacking the medium cups.

“No way!” Madison is perky in a way that makes you want to be included. You like this about her. “Did you see them? Did you talk to them?”

“He—” You want to say that the part of him you saw was perfect, enough to keep you up when you should be dreaming. But reality is nothing if not disappointing. “I ran.”

“Y/n…” Madison gives you a stern look — like a mother finding out their child didn’t defrost the chicken in time. “Why would you run?”

“I don’t want to be rejected.” The magenta swirls painted onto the walls are a stark change to the clay sidewalks of the strip mall. ���And before you say he wouldn’t… It’s happened to my cousin. It’s possible.”

Madison frowns. “But that can’t be the only reason, right? I mean, we all know someone who has been rejected. It’s usually not the end of the world for them.”

“He’s a famous streamer,” you blurt, and you’re thankful the shop is as empty as it is. Just the words themselves sound fake.

Madison snorts. “Like, gaming? That’s what’s holding you back? He’s a gamer?”

“I don’t care that he’s a gamer!” You hiss. “I care that he has a loyal fanbase who more than likely all want to be his soulmate!”

“You can’t say that for certain,” Madison says. “I mean, everyone knows about the soulmate system. If you watch someone and don’t feel the pull, you know they aren’t your soulmate, right? So why wouldn’t they accept you?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I’m just scared. I mean, he’s got this huge following and everything and I’m just me. I work in a yogurt shop for goodness’ sake.”

You head into the back to grab more cups, and the bell rings, signaling a new customer.

“Welcome to Yogurt Barn, what can I get for you?” Madison’s customer service voice pricks your ears.

You sift through the boxes to find the smaller cups and listen to the customer’s order. “Can I have a strawberry cone?”

Your string pulls, that same familiar voice filling your head, not on the screen but once again just a few feet away. He’s infiltrating your life, so close you could reach out and touch him, but it’s such a terrifying thought that you set down the cups.

You tear off your apron, and run into the break room to grab a water and calm yourself down.

It’s ten minutes before Madison comes back to find you. “Hey, are you okay? You disappeared.”

You take a deep breath and stare at the poster on the wall. It’s brightly colored, with a walking yogurt cup waving and reminding employees to wash their hands before scooping. “That was him. The guy— the pull— Dream— I can’t— Does he know? Is he following me?”

“It’s okay,” Madison runs her hand down your back. “It’s okay. He isn’t following you. When the pull starts it tends to draw the couple together until they meet. He probably doesn’t know it’s you.”

You nod and take your breaths in gulps. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you go home early, okay?”

Dream is live again.

Fresh out of the shower, you pull a t-shirt over your body and burrow into your blankets. Earbuds in, you try to focus on the sound of his voice, ignoring every ounce of anxiety that’s been riddling your mind.

“Hi, chat. I’m gonna practice speed runs again. I think George is joining soon.”

You open the chat and scroll through the emotes, clicking the ones you like and sending them, just to calm yourself down.

[kylo donated $5: did you find your soulmate?]

Dream laughs. The sound makes your chest tighten with longing. Your fingers ache. “Actually, I went to the place I felt the pull again. I dunno what I was expecting, but they didn’t show up. But after that, I was running some errands and I felt it, chat! I felt the pull again.”

He trails off while his character starts to look for a lava pool. “I feel discouraged but I don’t want to like, chase them, you know? I don’t want to scare them off.”

You click the donation tab again.

[y/n donated $1: maybe your soulmate heard your voice and got scared of you because they watch your videos.]

It’s not the total truth, but it might help him sleep better. You don’t want him to feel discouraged, but you can’t bring yourself to follow the pull.

“That could be a possibility…” Dream crafts a portal and sends his character through. “But I wish I could talk to them. I wish I could tell them that it’s okay. Like, we don’t have to rush into anything.”

[y/n donated $1: They probably wish they could talk to you too]

“Thanks, Y/n.” He sucks in a breath as soon as he says your name. The Minecraft pause screen appears and the sound of a discord call can be heard.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Something about him saying your name just solidified everything. Your arms feel hot and cold all at once, like you’ve just been thrown in a frozen lake. He has to be feeling it too.

“Chat, I gotta go, okay? I’ll try to stream again soon.”

“Hello?” A sleepy voice comes in through Dream’s earbuds.

“George! Their name is Y/n!” Dream is so excited, his voice raising a few octaves as he talks. “Someone donated with that name and I felt like, super weird. I didn’t feel it until I said the name out loud.”

“That’s crazy,” George says, monotone but supportive. “Do you think the dono is actually them?”

“I don’t know,” Dream scrolls through their past donos and quickly screenshots each one. “I mean, they definitely could be.”

He shares the pictures in their group chat.

George hums. “It sounds like they’re trying to tell you how they feel without admitting that it’s them. Where did you say you felt a pull?”

“At the park, and at the yogurt shop down the road.”

“So go there again. Maybe all they need is a little courage. If you feel the pull this time, you should follow it.”

Dream thinks about it for a moment before finally agreeing. He changes the subject to their next jackbox stream, and George is now happily talking about how they’re going to team up against Sapnap.

He goes into Sapnap’s room that night. He sits on his desk chair while Sapnap sits cross legged on his bed, scrolling through his phone. “Do you wanna get frozen yogurt tomorrow? My treat.”

“Hell yeah!”

The new strawberry-lemonade custard is a hit. Not only are the colors aesthetically pleasing for the teenagers who want a nice snapchat story, but there was a promotional coupon in the mail that has people lining up to the door.

“It’s not even that good,” you tell Madison while the two of you are on break. You’re both using a sample spoon to try out the new summer flavors, and in your opinion, strawberry-lemonade isn’t even the best one. “Blood orange is better.”

Madison wrinkles her nose. “No, blue raspberry is best.”

“It’s sour, though,” you say.

“Guys! Break’s over and you’ve got a line!” Your manager stares disapprovingly at the cups of custard the both of you are indulging in.

“We’re coming.” You toss the cup into the trash and walk out, scratching at the sudden itch on your pinky finger.

Pulling on your gloves, you grab a scoop and address the first customer, “Welcome to Yogurt Barn.”

“Hi!”

You still like you’ve been caught stealing on camera. You look up, hand clutching the scoop so tightly you can feel the cold steel through your gloves.

It’s Dream.

It’s him. He’s tall, and his hair is a sunshine blond, dark at the roots and curling beneath his ears. And his freckles… little spots all across his cheeks so endearing that you get a little distracted staring at them.

Then he’s talking, and you have to focus on his jade-green eyes, not his lips, which are a warm pink. “It’s you.”

You blink. Fear strikes your spine and you drop the scoop. “I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Dream calls, just as Madison shouts your name.

You exit out the back door again. Your heart is pounding against your chest, ribs expanding, and all you can hear is the sound of your name coming out of his lips, just last night through a screen.

“Y/n?” Only it’s in front of you, a few feet away, and he’s searching your eyes for any reassurance that you won’t run away again. That you won’t reject him. “That’s your name right?” He keeps talking, a nervous smile flitting across his face. “The donos? That was you?”

You can see the string now, red and blaring, tightening with each step Dream takes. It’s signing off your fate, for better or for worse, and you can’t fathom why he’s trying so hard, why he cares so much.

It’s hot in Florida but you feel cold, chilled to the bone. You straighten up. You figure you owe it to him to look up in the eye.

He leaves you breathless, eyes shining in the sun. “It was me,” you say. “You’re Dream.”

“Clay, actually,” he says. His smile widens, and it’s magnificently bold. He’s triumphant, just from your reply, and that alone gives you the slightest bit of hope.

“Clay,” you say. “I’m— I’m not— I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to be.” Clay is quick to reply, hands open and palms up. It’s a complete surrender — putting it all in your hands. “We don’t have to announce it. We don’t have to be anything at all, if you need time. But I would like to be your friend. If— If that’s okay.”

But you want to be close to him. The draw of your strings pulling each other closer and closer makes you want to wrap your arms around him. If he hasn’t rejected you, maybe you can do this. “I– I want to be more than friends, but I’m terrified of you rejecting me. I’m afraid of the string getting cut.”

Clay set his brows, “I won’t let that happen. We’re connected. Fate, ya know?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and it’s a sigh of relief. “Okay. Maybe I’ll give you my number?”

“I’ll give you mine!” Clay is animated, holding out his hand for your phone. “That way you can text me when you’re ready.”

The red string shines like gold in the Florida sun, and when your fingertips brush, it burns with a satisfying warmth.

[doodle-do-wop]

The Sunset(a Tina x Mick dabble)

Tina sighed as she rested her head in her arms. She and Mick had been in the library for hours and other than a few soft whispers not much had been spoken between the two. It was honestly driving Tina up the wall(though no actual wall climbing would be done, this time at least)

She turned her head to look at the girl beside her. Mick had her hair up in a ponytail(a very rare occasion) though her bangs were far too short to be kept away from her face with the elastic. She was laser focused on the paper in front of Tina worried it would catch on fire from the pure intensity of her stare. Occasionally Mick would look up slightly and blow a small puff of hair to sway her bangs away a fraction before looking down as her bangs fell back into place. It was honestly kind of amusing, watching as she decoded and translated while fruitlessly blowing her bangs away. 

Tina snuggled into the nest of her arms and watched, entertained as the cycle went on for a while more and the sun started to set in a blazing fire of orange. Tina hated orange, it never looked good on her though Mick could totally pull off orange. She had the right skin tones that the bright color would compliment her just right. Oh! And if Mick let her do up her hair and tease it she could totally have a hot look for a nice date. Or maybe Tina could take Mick out herself, they could go to town or Saturday, see a nice movie, get some ice cream or hit up that funky diner down by West St or-

“You’re staring,” Mick spoke and it honestly startled Tina for a moment. Really, it was kind of embarrassing, she was a future spy. 

“What’s on your mind?” Mick continued and Tina shrugged her shoulders, a smile pulling at her lips. Though Mick hadn’t turned to look at her Tina knew she saw the gesture, Mick always kind of saw her in that awesome super spy way she had. 

“Just think ‘bout orange.” Tina replied and Mick twirled her pencil in her large, strong hands, erasing some miniscule line as a soft chuckle rippled through her well toned body. 

“Orange?” She quipped, raising an eyebrow. She really had nice eyebrows, not that Tina didn’t like hers. Mick just had really nice ones was all. 

“Orange.” Tina confirmed and Mick shrugged her shoulders. 

“It’s a nice color.” Mick spoke softly, Tina always loved it when she did. Mick had such a strong voice that could bark out an order like a drill sergeant but when she whispered or found no need to speak so strongly she sounded so gravely and pleasant. 

“I think it would look really pretty on you.” Tina replied without missing a beat. Mick paused her writing and stared down at her paper. 

“You think so?” Mick turned slightly to look at her, her brown eyes catching the shining sun and Tina almost forgot how to speak(it nearly happened to her mom once in Barcelona but that's like top secret).

Mick’s eyes turned into an array of oranges and yellows with the light of the setting sun. It was like a glorious blaze of color Tina thought the sunrise could be snuffed out by Mick Morrison and her gaze alone. 

“Yes,” Tina whispered so softly for a moment she worried Mick might have actually not heard her but when she let show the slightest of nods Tina knew she was heard, with Mick she always was. 

Mick reached her fingers up to play with the tips of her bangs and Tina pulled her favorite hair clip out of her hair and sat up slightly, reaching forward with a rush of boldness and gently clipping Mick’s bangs back. 

“Though, pink looks very nice too.” Tina murmured, sweeping the rest of Mick’s bangs to the side and trying to tuck them behind her ear.

Mick reached up, her fingers slightly brushing the hair clip and she looked down at her page and then looked farther away from the smiling girl beside her. Covering her mouth to repress her own smile as her lips began to betray her. 

‘The color looks better on you’ She wanted to say so badly, the words practically burned her throat as the begged to be set free. 

[meliorist-midoriya]

to you, to the world, to my love (you’re all three)

synopsis: midoriya has always had too much love to give in a world that loved to take. you’re just hoping that he has enough left for you in the end.

pairing: midoriya izuku x reader

genre: fluff with a touch of angst

warnings: some insecurity

word count: 2.5k

notes: happy valentine’s day, everyone! this is my contribution for the pocuties server collab, based off the greek types of love, of which i had the honor of receiving izuku and decided upon agape  please help yourself to the box of chocolates they’re offering for valentine’s, there’s a wide selection of chocolates handmade by talented creators, so i’m sure you’ll find something to your taste! tbh i only managed to finish this fic because i was watching chan’s valentine’s vlive and i was in a super soft mood ;3;

extra: agápe - the ancient greek concept of selfless, universal love.

“Making his debut in the pro hero scene, Pro Hero Deku is blazing a trail straight out of UA—”

“—Pro Hero Deku solved an astounding 30 cases in the past month—”

“Deku’s popularity is skyrocketing, rivaling that of—”

“Hero Deku—”

“Deku—”

“Pro Hero Deku has swept the hero rankings to come out on top as Number 1!”

With a resolute ‘click’ of the remote, the reporters’ overlapping voices cut off as the TV screen faded away, your lonely reflection staring back at you from the blank screen. You, curled up on your empty couch, in your empty apartment with the clock striking what should have been dinner. The TV was only there in an attempt to drown out the crushing silence, the white noise—hellbent on filling the space his presence had left—was deafening.

That attempt failed.

Horribly.

If anything, it just made the sense of wrongness permeating the air even worse. 

(That TV recap of his best moments didn’t help as much as you hoped it would.)

Being alone in this apartment felt… off. As if someone had gouged out what should’ve been there, the ghost of a presence settling a chill into your bones that ran far deeper than just plain loneliness. The foreboding grief of what could be, the fear that you’d resigned yourself to the moment you agreed to follow him on this path, the selfishness gnawing at your conscience every time you saw him run out the door to save the next person, to solve the next case. 

Things like an All Might coffee mug sitting primly next to yours on the drying rack, garishly yellow “tufts” staring back at you with a cracked vengeance. (You’d apologized profusely to him that day, promising to buy him another one. He’d just smiled over his cracked cup of coffee, telling you not to worry about it for the hundredth time.)

Things like his haphazard mess of notes and scrawl spread out on the kitchen counter, the pen sitting next to the half finished page. (You’ve long since learned to leave his notes be, they’ll be tidied up once he’s done… if he’s ever truly done.)

The filled queue of movies and pile of DVDs you’d picked out together, giddy over plans to watch the next time he had a free night. (You remember pretending not to notice him trying to slip another hero documentary near the bottom of the pile, distracting you with talks of popcorn and the night that was supposed to be tonight.)

Deku. The man the world adored, clinging to his promise like a lifeline in times of need. 

Midoriya Izuku. The man you loved, who promised you the world.

“It’ll be okay, I’m here.”

His soft promise echoed both in the battlefield and in your darkest hours, a close mirror to a hero of a generation past, yet it was different. It was his own. Comforting, personal, and wholly him. The public, weak and grasping for new support, latched on to the small sliver of hope his hand offered and he just kept giving, giving, giving. It never seemed to stop, and you were scared. 

He was a man with a bleeding heart with all the love to give and more. To the civilians, to the villains, to anyone in need.

Now, you needed his promise more than ever. A reassurance whispered into reunions and the thousandth hospital visit, over fresh scars and searing kisses. A promise that he would come home. You didn’t want to think of all the times he came so, so close to breaking that promise, even before you two had made it, before you two had even promised yourselves to each other in your UA days.

You pulled the blanket a little tighter around you, staring down at your phone with no real intent in mind as you scrolled. The video playing one of his interview clips (bashfully reciting his “catchphrase,” how cute) cut his voice short as you scrolled past to move on to the next, wincing at the next tweet on your timeline. Him, battered and bloody, as he pulled a child from the aftermath of the battle he’d just won. 

You still need to wrap that new mug you got him as a gift. You still had to listen to him bounce his ideas off of you. You still had to move that hero documentary to the top of the pile. You still—

“Hero Deku saves 30 people, no casualties,” A soft murmuring of the headline shattered the silence, and you smiled to yourself, giggling at all the replies joking of how he threw himself into the fray a little more responsibly and singing their praises.

It’ll be okay.

“Ugh, those reporters are at it again.” 

At your best friend’s exasperated groan, you followed their gaze over to see— ah. 

A small swarm of reporters had worked their way into the fans crowding your boyfriend, their press badges reading every tabloid magazine on this side of the city and prying questions falling off their tongue like poison. From what you could hear over their overlapping clamoring, they were trying to dig into his private life.

Again. 

Deku, the darling of the masses, all sweet smiles and sincere words amidst his strength. Deku, the number one hero with the tightest lock on his private life, which came as a surprise to both everyone and no one.

It was a given, considering his position at the peak of hero society.

It was also a complete shock, considering his tendency to ramble into tangents that had his PR team withering.

Which seemed to help in times like these, now that you thought about it, laughing to yourself as you watched the reporters’ expressions darken in defeat the longer he continued to talk around their questions. Quite a long stretch from stiffly standing on the practice stage at UA all those years ago, frozen from nerves. You idly mused to this to yourself, taking a sip of your drink as you dragged your gaze back over to your best friend.

“Did you choose this cafe because it’s right along Izuku’s patrol route?” They stiffened, and you couldn’t help but laugh at their obvious intentions.

“Maybe, or it could’ve been just a coincidence.” The next teasing jab was halfway off your tongue when they cut you off before you could give into the urge, the words dying in your throat. “When was the last time you saw him anyway? I know you two live together but Todoroki told me he practically lives at the agency with how swamped they are. Are you okay?”

You purse your lips, staring down at the ice swirling around in your cup as you idly stirred it round. As if the sloshing liquid could whisper the answer you wish you knew.

“...Yeah.” They cocked a brow, and you took another sip to try and delay your time. “It’s not like either of us can help it. Izuku’s number one, so this was bound to happen.”

(The clamoring from the reporters grew ever louder. Persistent, that bunch.)

Their expectant (doubting) gaze was met with your own steady one, and you smiled. Whether it was out of consolation or resignation was anyone’s guess.

“We’re okay, I promise.”

You should really be getting to sleep. 

Really, you should.

At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past several hours, tossing and turning in your bed with nothing but winter-cold sheets and a gnawing loneliness to keep you company. You know you should be sleeping when the clock on the bedside table reads an ungodly hour and there was work to be done in the morning. You know you should be sleeping when the moon disappears from the night sky and leaves you with nothing but the city lights to dimly illuminate the dark room.

You really know you should be sleeping when you hear the front door click open, Izuku shuffling around the apartment to get ready for whatever minimal amount of sleep he’d get before he had to be up and running soon after.

Despite this, sleep still refuses to come, and you don’t bother pretending to be asleep when he slides into bed next to you. Instead, you turn over and curl into his chest, stifling the guilt that bubbles up when he jumps in surprise.

“Something keeping you up?” Oh, he sounds so tired, and part of you wishes you could just make it all go away. The weight of the world rests heavy on his shoulders, and deep down, you wonder if you’re part of that burden. You curl a little closer, as if trying to smother the thoughts that crashed upon you, spilling over the crack in the dam that only widened the more you spoke.

“Jus’ a little lonely, is all.” Your voice is too quiet, brittle, and you pray to every deity that would listen that he would drop it. That he wouldn’t take on yet another burden when he was already carrying Altas’s share of the world.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Of course, the gods are hardly ever so merciful—to them you are just another wishful mortal in the realm of the holy and damned—and Izuku’s hand rests on your cheek with a tenderness that makes you want to cry.

“...Why?” 

The confusion that falls over his expression (gaunt, tired, and God, should you even be doing this right now?) is immediate, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze with yours, like he could find the answer in city lights dancing over your face. His thumb strokes soft patterns over your cheek—as if brushing off the layers you’d built to protect your soul—and you lean into his soft touch with a sigh.

“Why what?”

The words spill from your lips unbidden, your hesitations softened by the comfort of his touch, the sudden drowsiness, and the emotion that near overwhelms you.

“Why do you still try to do everything yourself? When there’s so many people out there, ready to support you?” His breath hitches in shock, but it’s too late to go back now. You reach up to hold the hand cradling your cheek, distantly remembering a time when he was too insecure of his scarred and crooked hands to even hold your hand.

He’s come a long way, indeed.

“I love you, Izuku. I just don’t know if that can hold up against your love for the world.” 

Something in his gaze softens, to your surprise. His smile is even softer.

“What would you do if you’re both?”

“Wh— Izuku—”

He continues, and you listen, raptured by his words spoken into the glow of the blue hour.

“Yes, I know that at the end of the day, peace and safety has to come first, but—” His smile widens into something bashful, a smile that never failed to send butterflies scattering through your heart. “—who says you can’t be right along with them?” 

He bumped his forehead with yours, smiling emerald eyes gazing into your own with such love—dizzying and overpowering and so, so warm. With the steady thrum of your heartbeat matching his, you found yourself falling even deeper once again.

“You know me, I can never compromise when it comes to what’s important to me.”

You laugh, something watery, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, temple, cheek, with a last, smiling kiss on your lips.

“How greedy.” He laughs into your lips, pulling away to hold you closer.

“Just for you.”

There’s so many things you could’ve said, as you watched the rest of the night sky fade into the deep blues of dawn. But, you decide, the comforting silence was best left as is, only broken by one resounding comfort.

It’ll be okay.

“You know, it would’ve been nice to know that you had taken the day off before I had that whole guilt spiral last night.”

“It turned out okay though, didn’t it?” He turned back to flash you that cheeky grin of his, half-hidden by his winter coat and backed by the glow of the setting sun. You just rolled your eyes with a laugh before jogging to catch up to him, slipping you hand out of your pocket to interlace your fingers with his.

“Yeah, it did.” 

The walk was silent as you two strolled down the familiar path, winding down after a whole day spent with each other. It was romantic of him, now that you thought about it, to take the whole Valentine’s Day off just for you. You hummed as you leaned onto him, giddy and content at the thought. 

In love, if you were to be so bold.

(Granted, he had to wear a mask and a cap the entire time to hide from the prying eyes of the public, but you made do.)

The sight of aged, familiar scenery pulled you from your musings, and you tugged at his hand to grab his attention, pointing at the quaint bench surrounded by bare gingko trees.

“Hey, wasn’t this the park where you confessed?” At your words, he froze and glanced over at the familiar scenery, eventually burying his face into his free hand with a groan once the old memories clicked in his head.

“Oh, don’t remind me. It’s still embarrassing to look back on.”

“What? I thought you were cute!” You laughed, nudging him to follow as you led him over to the small park, brushing off the dust to sit on the bench before patting the space next to you. Izuku obliged, and you almost automatically curled into his side, as if by habit.

“Did we really walk all the way here from the station?” His disbelieving tone made you look up at him, his expression one of nostalgic awe, before casting your attention back to the aged scenery, humming in agreement as you idly picked out what’s changed and what’s stayed in the years that have passed.

“I guess we never really forget, huh?”

“I forgot the sunset looked the best from here.”

“I hope you didn’t forget all the memories we made here.” He tore his attention from the sunset to gape down at you, scandalized.

“Of course not!” 

“Really?” He arched a brow at the teasing lilt to your voice and the mischievous grin playing at your lips, “So you didn’t forget accidentally firing an Air Force shot at me when we first met because you were training?”

He buried his face in his hands again with another embarrassed groan.

“I hoped you would forget that, at least!” You just laughed, hugging him closer as if to console him from your teasing. Before long, the atmosphere settled back into a quiet reminiscence, indulging in the nostalgia of memories past in this little park. The silence that was once deafening alone, now softened by the comfort of his presence at your side.

“We’ve made so many memories in this park, huh?” At your soft hum of agreement, he continued. Was his voice shaking? “It wouldn’t hurt to make more, would it?”

“What do you me—”

Your question cut itself short as you saw what he held out to you. 

A little velvet box, sitting open in his hand. You dragged your suddenly watery gaze back up to Izuku, his once bashful smile now wobbly with nerves. 

So familiar in this little park, yet so new.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It was just a small walk down memory lane, the street lights blinking on one by one in the wake of the fiery sunset as you two walked the familiar path together. Yet there was something buzzing anew in the air, humming through your soul as you held out your hand to the sun, admiring the way the gem on your ring finger sparkled in the fading sunset. In the other, you interlaced your fingers with his.

Yeah… 

You caught Izuku’s soft gaze, smiling and in love.

We’ll be okay.

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Ch 4

Previous | Next

E chapter 4 is here. This one is longer than the previous chapter I think anyway enjoy this chapter!

Then Nino whispered to Alya "Do you think she likes Luka again?"

"I..don't know, but I'm gonna find out one way or another"

————————————————————

The trip went smoothly. Surprisingly, Lila hadn't done anything at all. Maybe she admitted to what she had done. Her loyal 'minions' had avoided her slightly today but Marinette knew they would come crawling back to Lila tomorrow, as if this never happened. Though, Marinette was grateful to have Alya, Nino and Adrien by her side. And Marinette was also surprised at how Chloe came to her defense, kinda. When the bluenette was getting her bag from her locker, she overheard Chloe confronting Lila.

"You were the cause of Marinette's late appearance weren't you? Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! The only one allowed to mess with Dupain-Chen's is me, got that?" The blonde said. "If I ever find you bullying her in anyway I'll have you expelled!"

Marinette was thankful that Chloe had come in her defense, in her own way. Marinette was about to catch up to her friends, who were getting closer to the exit, when she felt a vibration from her phone in her pocket. She took her phone and saw a message from 'Uncle Jagged'. She opened it and read it.

Uncle Jagged: Hey Nettie! Sorry about the late notice but I've been called for an interview. We'll need to reschedule

Marinette began typing

Marinette: It's no problem Uncle Jagged! I'll be free for more less the rest of the week

Uncle Jagged: Yeah I'm free tomoz, you can drop by then

Marinette: Kk

Marinette but her phone away. 'I can spend more time with Damian' she thought with a smile on her face.

"Hey Marinette! You free later?" The voice of her best friend echoed in the near empty school. "We were planning on going to Adrien's later, his father finally allowed us to come over!"

"I'm afraid I can't" Marinette said, feeling a bit guilty. "I'm busy, actually-" she glanced at her phone for the time "I gotta go! See you guys later maybe!" Marinette then ran out the building.

"Oh that's...fine" Alya said while her best friend ran by. "I wonder what's so important that she passed up going to Adrien's"

"You guys sure you don't wanna join me in the car?" Adrien asked.

"It's fine dude! Alya and I can walk"

"If you say so" Adrien answered, unconvinced. As he got into the car, he used this silence so that he could here his own thought clearly. 'I...I think I like Marinette, no I'll admit it. I know I like Marinette but does she like me back?'

~~~

Alya and Nino were walking down the street together, hand in hand, before Nino started a conversation. "Do you think Marinette has stopped crushing on Adrien?"

Alya shook her head vigorously "There's no way! She has nearly every photo of him in existence and she memorized the boy's schedule boy heart don't forget!"

"But then how do you explain how she was acting earlier?" Nino stated, firmly believing his own theory. "She didn't trip on her words at all! Even when she was tired she would always stammer while talking to him"

Alya then thought about what her boyfriend was saying. "You're right! And to think Adrien just started showing signs of liking her". Alya sighed in sympathy for the blonde boy. "Do you think she likes Luka again?"

"Who else could it be?" Nino asked but didn't wait for his (rhetorical) question to be answered as they reached the gate to Adrien's house.

~~~

Marinette rushed home to change and to drop her designs in her room. She's gotten a lot better at designing and making her designs, so much better that everything she would where would be her original designs and she was proud of it. She quickly got changed into a light cream top with long sleeves, the cream top was so light in colour that it could basically be passed off as white. She also had a pair of jet-black leggings to match. "What do you think Tikki?"

"You look great Marinette!" The kwami yawned.

Happy with her outfit, she grabbed her sketched book, put it in her bag, grabbed her shoes and ran downstairs. "I'm going to a friend's place, I'll probably be back in the evening. Bye Maman! Papa!"

"Bye Marinette!" Sabine shouted, luckily Marinette's parents were too busy working on a cake to notice how Marinette was dressed purposefully to impress. Marinette also noticed how Tikki looked tired so she tried not to run so the little kwami could get some sleep.

She soon arrived at Le Grand Paris. She felt very out of place as the doors opened for her but she walked without fear to the reception. 'Here we go'.

"Yes Miss, how may I help you?" The female receptionist asked.

"Hi, um I'm here to go to Mr Damian's room"

The receptionist nodded "Alright just give me one minute" she seemed to brace herself to call the room's phone which Marinette didn't understand. True Damian isn't that great with expressing his emotions but he wasn't that bad. Well, not to her at least. She blushed slightly at this realisation "Sir? There's someone here to see you"

"Ask for their name" a voice from the telephone said.

"Excuse me miss what's your name?"

"Marinette" the bluenette said.

"She says her name is Marinette, sir" the receptionist said with a slightly shaky voice.

"She may come in" the voice from the telephone rang.

The receptionist put the phone down and told Marinette the floor and room number. Though she already knew the room number, she didn't know what floor he was on so the information was useful. Marinette then walked to the lift and pressed the button that would lead her to the floor Damian was on. When she reached the door she had to breathe in a little before knocking on it. Surprisingly it opened right away, by Damian of course.

"Hi again, Damian" Marinette said switching to English. When she opened her eyes she saw that Damian was examining her. 'Did I put something on that didn't match? No it can't that' Marinette then blushed a little. Though she didn't even know the guy for a full day, her crush for him had blossomed, tremendously.

Damian glanced at Marinette's outfit, it complimented her personality and physique perfectly. He then realised he might had been staring for some time now and shook his head to snap out of the trance. "Yes, hello again. Please, come in" and he opened the doors for her. Damian watched as she looked around the suite, examining her surroundings, while Damian went back to examining, well, Marinette.

"Wow, You got one of the big suites" Marinette said, her eyes outshining anything bright in the room.

"Yeah" Damian mumbled and he could tell that the girl seemed pretty self conscious about her outfit. 'Because of me staring no doubt'. So to cheer her up, he said "You look lovely by the way"

The girl's face turned into a bright red. "You really think so?"

Damian nodded. "That hair clip suits you. If you're top was pure white, I would've been convinced that you were an angel, not that you aren't one already" Damian thought of something. "Actually, Angel is not a bad nickname for you. Is it ok if I refer to you as that from now on?"

Marinette was consumed by happiness. "Thanks for complimenting my outfit at being able to pick out all the little details" On her face was now a look of pure love and joy. "And since you'll be calling me 'Angel', I think it's only fair if I call you 'Shaytan' from now on" This made Damian laugh.

"Courtesy of my brothers no doubt" Earlier, Damian had told her that his brothers usually called him 'Demon Spawn' and she laughed, not seeing why they call him that. He knew that Marinette was aware of his 'ice-cold' personality but she never judged him for it. "And is it ok if we watch this Jagged Stone interview? My brothers and I are quite big fans, Tim and Jason are even bigger fans for MDC. Full out fanboys"

Marinette giggled, "Sure I don't mind! I'm a fan of Jagged Stone too". Damian then went to turn the TV on while Marinette wen to out her bag somewhere, but she kept her phone with her. She then sat next to Damian on the sofa, leaving about a pencil's width between them. Damian was fine with this, actually, he would be fine if Marinette full on hugged him with sitting there. He didn't mind.

Then, Nadja Chamack's voice echoed in the more or less quiet hotel room. "So Jagged Stone, many of the viewers, myself included, Have been all wondering the same question: Who is this MDC?"

Jagged Stone chuckled. "Well I'm not going to reveal her name yet but I can tell you, she is honorary my niece."

"Interesting, very interesting" Nadja said. "Is it possible if we could have an interview with her?"

"If she's willing to pick up her phone then sure" Jagged chuckled again while reaching for his phone and dialing a number.

Then Marinette's phone rang. Damian did get a bit suspicious at first but didn't want to invade her privacy. That was until Marinette's voice echoed through the TV's speakers.

"Hi Uncle Jagged!"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster

[nightlight-firelight]

Hi everyone, I’m really hoping you guys like this one! I’m hoping to continue this story, if you all like this. I’m not used to writing for other people, so please give me some feedback on how I could make this more enjoyable.

“Small Things Come With a Awkward Price”

Chapter 1

Getting home was a nightmare and getting back into your room is the top priority in your mind. The trip from Walmart had you exhausted due to the unexpected heat. Looking at your phone, you swear that today was only supposed to be in the seventies. You drop off your grocery bag onto your bed and pull out the item you have been waiting to open up. The Sonic Boom season one DVD set came with Sonic and Dr.Eggman figures. Even though the box was banged up, you bought the set anyway. The thought crossed your mind that a kid tried to open the box to get the figures but luckily didn’t succeed. You opened the banged-up box and pulled the figures out and set them on the bed. Then, taking out the two DVD cases, you set those on the bed and take a walk to the kitchen with the busted box and the excess plastic.

On the way to the kitchen, your thoughts began to wonder why you had picked up the box set to begin with. It was a good price and with the addition of the figures, you thought yourself lucky to get the last one they carried. Looking back, however, you did remember that this box was just under one of the shelving units next to the videogame isle, not even covered by a speck of dust. You had only seen the box when you went to look closer at a price tag, seeing the corner of the disheveled box and its contents. Pacing your dominant foot on the small peddle of the garbage can, the lid lifts from its closed positions and you gently toss the trash into the bin, only seeing a slip of paper glide out of the now trashed box.

You groan in annoyance that you have to take care of the fallen slip and pick up the small piece of paper after a try or two keeping it slightly stick to the floor. You take a closer look at the paper and see that it had some writing to it.

‘Hope you like my surprise!’

Staring at it puzzled you. Who was this for? I wasn’t meant for you to find, at least that what you believe. Was this put in here as a joke or an accident or-,

‘Clack!’

You jump ever so slightly from the odd noise that had pulled you away from your thoughts. The noise appears to come from your room, from the way the sound was only slightly distant and lightly muffled by the walls. You take more of a pep in your step and get to your room to investigate the noise. Taking a look around your room, you find after a minute of looking to see your Sonic figure on the floor. Picking him back up you take a look at him and see that his paint job was really impressive for a small action figure. You rolled him around in your hand and were impressed that the figure, all around, was correctly put together and made. No chip marks, no lack of paint, or extra paint where it shouldn’t be. No mistakes. You smile a bit at the thought and set Sonic on your small table next to your bed. You see that the Dr.Eggman figure, however, was almost to the edge of the bed, laying on his tummy, and had his arms pushed out in front of him. ‘Looks like he pushed Sonic off.’ You laughed at that thought of the plastic toy throwing its plastic arch-nemesis over the edge of the bed.

You pick the doctor up and examine him as well. He just like Sonic with the most impeccable paint job you’ve seen. You blush a bit and hold him more gently. You won’t lie and say that you may have had a crush on the doctor for a while now, not trying to deny it anymore. The first time that you had seen him on screen when watching the cartoon, you had butterflies swarming inside of you. The way he spoke was like music to your ears, and the way that he got when he thought he was about to win was so cute to you. You wished that they had made a third season to keep going with the cute doctor, but alas, good things must come to an end.

Taking the doctor and placing him onto your mountain of pillows you take a new pair of clothing into your bathroom and get cleaned up again, remembering that the heat had not been kind to you earlier. Once done, you put your old outfit into your laundry hamper and grabbed your portable DVD payer from the corner of your room. You had gotten this for the holidays and once you had gotten it, you never put it down for more than a few hours. You open up the player and take the first DVD case and open up the side of it up to show you the contents inside.

Your mood changed to a sour one when you saw the DVD itself. A plain disk with the words ‘Sonic Boom Season One, First Disk.’ repaced what would have been the official disk. You were upset that this was a false product and went to look at the second case. When you opened that one you were greeted by the bootleg copy of the second disk. You set both cases down and head to the kitchen you grab your favorite drink.

‘Really should have grabbed this earlier when I went to throw out the box.’ thinking bitterly as you swing open the fridge door and grab a bottle of your elixir that would of relax the current mood you were in. Opening the cap and dowing a few gulps of the drink, you realized that maybe you might have had gotten a copy that may have been a gift to someone or a factory error. You put the cap back on and take a deep breath. You had wanted to watch the show and still hope that the disks were holding the content you crave.

You made your way back to your room again to find your DVD player’s disk tray opened with the first seasons stuck in the correct spot. You freaked. You KNEW that you did not put the disk is the try, not even taking it out of its case, what is it ended DOING out of the case? You panic for a second and take a look around your home to make sure no one was in the house with you. After a check of the windows, rooms, closets, and even checking under furniture, you concluded that no one could have been in your house. You take a calming breath and sit down on the edge of your bed. You try and come up with some sort of explanation. Mabey you had put the disk in your DVD player and forgot about it. You were a bit sleep-deprived due to the last week of finals, so maybe you may have forgotten? You try and relax and after a few minutes you calm down enough to stop thinking of making scenarios of how this could have happened. After getting a grip, you push the lid down of the DVD player and start up the system. Sitting on your bed, you get to the main menu and sigh of relief that it was a copy of the show and not a knock-off. “So this must be a prototype or an unreleased version, cool.” Speaking to no one in particular. You press play on the first episode, ‘The Sidekick.’ and lean back the ride.

At first, the episode appeared normal. That ended when it got to the scene where Dr.Eggman got the poster for the sidekick tryouts and when the fourth wall gag kicked in and dropped the camera away from the doctor’s face, when he picked it up, however.

“Lousy security camer-.” he had stopped and looked dead into the ‘camera’. His eyes widened and he gave off a soft gasp, and you swore he was looking dead into your eyes, however, the scene quickly changed into the next stop before he could react. You pause the clip there and lean back.

NO WAY that happened. Your brain at the moment was fried and you KNEW he looked at you. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute and you had to take a few deep breathes to make sure you didn’t hyperventilate. ‘Breath,’ You keep telling yourself. ‘Breath!’ After few minutes of reconciliation, you looked back to the paused screen and ponder on what you should do. This has to be edited or who knows what. You were too far into this to give up now. First, the way the box was hidden was now becoming way too suspicious, second the way the figure looked way too good to be sold in a box set like that, and now this? You realized that this might be bigger than what you anticipated. Your eyes connect with the figure on your bed. You wanted to see where this goes. You had to see where this leads. You press play again.

You kept watching and when it got to when the doctor was introduced it was normal until it got to the Doctor entering the try-outs. He would keep going with the same dialog but kept taking glances over to you. The episode kept playing. The ending was different, however. Once BurnBot was destroyed via growing in the ice lake, Sonic and Tails didn’t kick the doctor away from the area. Instead, they did kick the Egg-Mobile out into the distance, but the doctor jumped out, landing in the area around the lake, letting Sonic and Tails leaving the scene. The camera focused on Eggman again as he lifted himself from off the ground and into the camera’s range. This time there was absolutely no way that the Docter did not see you as his expression look of that of confusion and worry. You decided to test out to see if you were going insane or if this was just an amazing edit. You wave to him. He hesitates for a moment. “Who-” But before he could finish that sentence, a very large light appears from the screen, blinding you. You cover your eyes and try to maneuver your body away from the small screen, only forgetting that you were seated in your bed and had just flung yourself off of it. You yelp out of fright and waited to hit the floor. You felt something grab you by the waist and pull you back up on the bed slowly. Uncovering your eyes you were met with something that happens only in fanfiction. A, very real, Dr. Eggman holding you in his hands, keeping you from falling off the bed.

“Hello.” His voice wavers from either the awkwardness of the situation or the fact that he just showed up into your room.

This is awkward.