After living in your new home for a couple of days, you’ve discovered an annoying bird that chirps outside your window all day and all night. After yelling at it for the hundredth time, the bird turns, and yells back.
thinking about kent or jack getting tradef to the others team and tbqh im., pain is good
Okay but actually can I rant about this for a sec because like? It doesn’t have to be sad.
Like I’ve seen people talk about/write fics where Kent goes to the Falcs, but what if it was the other way around? (Not that I think either team would trade Jack or Kent because they’re too valuable, but let’s ignore that for the sake of this AU.) So Jack gets sent to the Aces, and everybody who gives half a shit about hockey is holding their breath because in a way, this is Jack coming full circle. He’s back on a team with Kent, he’s on the team he would have gotten drafted to if he didn’t overdose, and he’s surrounded by a level of party culture that he hasn’t really had to confront since his addiction. Nobody knows how well he’ll handle any of these things, much less all at once.
But the Jack that goes to the Aces is not the Jack that existed back then, so he handles it surprisingly well. He isn’t on a line with Kent at first, because things change and people change and there’s just too much history to throw them back together on the ice and expect it to go well. But the Aces love Jack, even if Swoops is a little protective because Kent is his best friend, and Jack adjusts well because above all else, he’s good at hockey. They figure out a line that works for him, and he builds chemistry with the team, and it’s going well, everybody’s excited. Kent still has a lot of emotional baggage, but he’s a professional, and he’s the damn captain, so he realises he needs to leave the past in the past, and he and Jack finally talk it out and get the closure they need. Their relationship is still tentative at first, because they’re re-learning each other, but Kent is the only person who saw Jack’s struggle with self-medicating firsthand so ultimately, there’s a level of closeness there that can’t be ignored. They get more comfortable, they grow closer, and they’re better for each other this time around because they’ve grown up a lot since the Q. Plus, Jack is happy. That’s all Kent really ever wanted for him.
And Kent’s happy too, because this is it. This is what he wanted, to go pro with Jack and share a line in the NHL and maybe win a Cup or two together. And even though they aren’t linies yet and haven’t even approached the playoffs together, it’s a start, and that’s all Kent wanted. Just a chance to be a part of Jack’s life, and to see him play the sport he loves and not feel pressured to do anything but enjoy it. He knows they aren’t right for each other, not like that, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still play amazing hockey together. And it’s different than it used to be, because they’ve grown up a little and moved on a little and learned a lot, but Kent is slowly realising that different doesn’t always mean bad.
SO I was just reading another fic where Bitty was looking for cans of pumpkin and I just thought... I wonder how Bitty reacted to the news this past fall that cans of pumpkin actually contain very little pumpkin? That like, it's mostly other squash?
“Yo Bitty, we’re back!” Ransom and Holster stomped the snow from their boots and tramped into the kitchen where Bitty was prepping a whole line of pie dishes with their bottom crusts.
“Perfect timing! I was just finishing up with these.” He reached out to take a ag from Ransom and start unloading it into the pantry. “Thank you boys again, I just could not hoof it all the way to Stop & Shop in that weather.”
“We got your back, bro.” Holster slapped him on the back and started pulling out bags of nuts and fruit for the Hausgiving pies.
“Where’s the pumpkin?” Bitty asked, looking around at the pile of groceries. “I should get started with that since it’ll take the longest.”
“Oh, I think it’s in here,” Ransom said, giving one of his bags a shake. It made a metallic clunking noise as cans of soup knocked against each other.
“Yeah. I know, I hate when they bag all the cans together too. This thing’s fuckin heavy. Like, we get it, it’s organized, but it’s -”
“Y’all got canned pumpkin?” Bitty looked at him with wide eyes, a bag of pecans dangling from his other hand. Ransom cut his eyes over to Holster, who was staring back at him, fear clear behind the lenses of his glasses.
“That’s not what the list said. I wrote one pumpkin.”
“Like…an actual pumpkin? Like for Halloween?” Holster asked. Bitty whirled around to face him.
“YES like an actual pumpkin! That canned junk ain’t real pumpkin, it’s mystery squash.”
“Oh.” Holster scooted back to the door, carefully keeping the table between himself and Bitty. He remembered the Beyonce album release fit and did not want to find himself the target of Bitty’s next rage. “Um, should we go back and get one then?” His voice squeaked a little and Ransom would usually chirp him for days for a crack like that, but he honestly couldn’t blame him.
The happy ding of Bitty’s phone getting a text from Jack saved them. Bitty just sighed and shook his head as he pulled out his phone and read the message. “No, y’all just go upstairs and don’t bother me ‘till these pies are done. Jack’s almost here, so I’ll have him stop. Clearly y’all were not ready for Hausgiving errands.” He waved them away, and neither argued as they turned and scampered up to the attic, Ransom carefully snagging the bag of Doritos off the table as they left.
Jack showed up twenty minutes later with his overnight bag over his shoulder, a bag of extra butter and flour, and a beautifully round pumpkin tucked under his other arm. Bitty kissed the pumpkin and his boyfriend, in that order.
“Honey, this is perfect. I should’ve just sent you from the start, I dunno what I was thinking letting the boys go on their own.” Jack smiled in that fond way he did when Bitty was being ridiculous.
“Come on Bits, they tried.” Bitty hummed and Jack tipped his chin up for another kiss. “Just think, when you met them, they would’ve come back with a Marie Calendar’s and a case of pumpkin-spice flavored beer.” Bitty laughed through the pained groan that thought elicited.
“Oh lord, is that was passed for Thanksgiving here?”
“No,” Jack said, setting down the groceries and suitcase so he could wrap Bitty in his arms. “That would’ve been them trying.”
“Mmhm.” Bitty pressed his face into Jack’s chest. “And look how much they love you. Jack picked up the bag of cherries from the table. “These are organic. Do you know how huge that is for these guys?”
“Cherry’s my favorite,” Bitty mumbled.
“…Maybe I was a little harsh earlier.”
Ransom and Holster woke up from an afternoon nap to the smell of a mystery squash pie sitting on top of Ransom’s Orgo textbook and figured they’d been at least partially forgiven.
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You said your house was haunted by "parakeets and Amish Satan" EXPLAIN
…I don’t remember posting about that on here omfg how deep in my personal tag are you? 😂 Those are two different stories so this is probably gonna be long.
Alright, so I was always that freaky little ‘I see dead people’ shithead when I was a kid. You know, that asshole kid that gives detailed descriptions of relatives that died before they were born and says they see them on the ceiling or some shit? That was me. Important to the stories. I’ll start with the parakeets.
Okay, so when I was like…Maybe 5 or 6, I really wanted to get a pet. We had a dog, but I was not the dog’s favorite person, and I was in that whole ‘I wanna prove I’m responsible’ stage of childhood, so I ambushed my parents with the pet question when we were out to dinner. (Which was a strategic move, as I knew all the waiters at the restaurant liked me and would maybe throw in a pity “Aww, get the girl a pet” comment as a guilt trip if they over heard the conversation. It totally worked lmao)
So, after a long debate about animals, my parents decided to get me parakeets. Which, I had not been aiming for (I wanted something cuddly, and I like birds in theory, not in practice) but I was not in a position for arguing when I was about to get a pet, so I agreed and we headed off to PetSmart and got two birds.
Now, over the course of my childhood, I only had three birds- Blueberry, Banana, and Snowcap. You can probably figure out what they looked like, I was not the most creative child. So, in our old house, which was, frankly, a better house, they had a great life! We kept them in the living room, right next to the huge glass doors that lead to the backyard so they got a lot of sunlight and fresh air, we were great about cleaning up their feathers, they didn’t feel attention starved so they weren’t too loud or annoying. It was great.
Then we moved to our current house, and that’s where it starts getting complicated.
See, my mom and I were both on a depression battle, and if you know anything about that, it made it very hard for us to do things. Energy wasn’t there. So while we were obviously still feeding the birds and everything, we definitely let the cage get messy and stopped cleaning up feathers. We had them on the bay window in my living room, so it looked like a mess, which really pissed my Aunt Gail off. Gail was a psycho bitch, for reference, but she had moved in with us to help pay bills and insisted the birds were taken out of the living room, which I wasn’t really down with, but I also wasn’t down with her locking me in a closet, so I listened to her. So Blueberry and Snowcap got banished to the computer room, where there was very little light, always loud music playing, and barely any attention for them. I remember they’d get so loud and we’d just throw a sheet over the cage or turn the lights off or yell for them to shut up. As it stands now, I realize we definitely ended up mistreating the birds, and I feel incredibly guilty about that, but as a little kid with very little patience and a fear of birds, who was mostly following her mother and aunt’s actions, I didn’t understand. I got pretty detached from them because of where I was mentally, and I remember when they both died (separately- Blueberry held on for a while, so she was sadly alone for a while), I like, forced all emotion about it away and just didn’t focus on it. Do you know what I mean? I was pretending like I wasn’t effected, like it was a non-issue, and like tbh I didn’t even let myself focus on how effed up that is until a couple years ago. But that was just the headspace I was in.
Okay, so anyway, birds: I always hear them outside my window during the day, chirping up a storm, but at night? It’s usually dead silent, with the occasional hoot from an owl who’s literally only there to make me think about the movie “The Fourth Kind” in the middle of the night. Fuck that owl, I don’t want to think about that movie.
Sometimes, though, when I’m having an Insomniac Episode ™ , I’ll be in the computer room (there’s no wifi in my house, we’re still in the 90′s) late at night, messing around, and for a short amount of time I’ll hear birds, like, screeching. And I never really thought much about it, because like, nature can do whatever it wants, but it started getting a little odd. Like, I’d leave the computer room to go downstairs for a bit, and I’d hear absolutely nothing. Dead silence, even though the kitchen is directly below it and thus has the same trees, or even if I leave the door open, it’s just quiet. But the second I step off the step and into the room, it starts back up. Weird, right? I started feeling really eerie about it, and started purposefully leaving the computer room whenever it started up.
And then, that lead me to noticing when it started up…It was always at 3:00am to 4:00 am. Which is, you know, The Witching Hour. The Ghost Hour. The Demon Hour. Plenty of names, but all the same concept. Any self-respecting paranormal fucker knows that things get weird at 3:00 am. The veil’s a little thinner then.
And that in itself freaked me out, but I always feel pretty freaked out at that time anyway, because as mentioned, I’m That Asshole Kid who hears disembodied voices and sees things out of the corner of my eye and always feels like something is right behind me. That’s only gotten better and worse with age in different ways- but anyway, while the bird stuff was freaking me out, I had yet to put together what it was, because frankly I’m just a wimp and I thought it was overall anxiety making me hear things.
So then, a little under a year ago, I’m watching some show about the paranormal and animals, and some dude is recounting a story about a ghost cat or something, and I remember being like…what the fuck, animals can be ghosts? What? Because that’s not something that ever occurred to me before, and not something I had heard of. And the guy went on to say something like if the animals were mistreated in life, they have as much chance to come back as a person-ghost who died tragically or something. And I just like, had a flash, of realizing how we had definitely mistreated the birds, and how I only hear screaming birds in their room, at 3:00 am, and it was just sort of an “everything clicked together moment”, and I was like, shit. I’m being haunted by my old pet parakeets.
I still hear them all the time, but I mean, I’m not turning out lights or telling them to shut up anymore, because honestly? They definitely have a reason to complain and make their voices heard over that. Like, if they need to let out frustration from beyond the grave, they definitely have my attention.
Okay, on to Amish Satan.
So in…Fifth grade, my class took a field trip to Lancaster, to tour some old coal mines and see some donkeys and stuff. It was nothing special, honestly, but it was a fun trip. So anyway, they had a little gift shop the let us go into because what’s a field trip without souvenirs? And they were mostly selling coal related stuff- I’ve got a little statue of a mouse made out of coal on my nightstand that I got there. But they were also selling these little Amish dolls, right? So as a young girl with a great love for dolls (I used to have a huge collection of all kinds), obviously I had to get one.
So I picked out a guy doll because I loved the shade of blue they used for his shirt, he had little black suspenders and a black hat, it was cute. Paid the store owner, got on the bus with my new little friend to head home.
(Completely unrelated to the story, but back then I was anime trash and decided to name this poor thing Kiyo after the main character from Zatch Bell lmao)
So anyway, on the bus home, I started getting slightly…unsettled by the fact he didn’t have a face. Like, it didn’t bother me when I bought him, but now it was starting to really freak me out. I kept asking the teachers why Amish dolls didn’t have faces, but no one had answers for me, which was frustrating, because I thought if I could understand the reasoning, it wouldn’t freak me out as much.
I was starting to regret buying it, but when we got back to school, my friend Rachel whipped out a sharpie and said “It’s yours anyway, just give him a face yourself!” which sounded like a relatively good idea. I drew the least intimidating face I could- two simple big eyes, point for a nose, big goofy smile with his tongue sticking out. It’s cute and dumb. Seriously, I still have the doll, you don’t look at this thing and think “Satan” at all.
So, me and my friends played with this doll all the time. We’d use to make him do tricks and flip him around and stuff- I remember one year we accidentally got him stuck on the Christmas tree and left him up there with all the decorations because we thought it was the funniest thing ever. This was like our go-to doll. We loved the thing. And sure, I’d have a weird experience every now and then, but I had absolutely no reason to think it was connected to the doll, because the things weren’t that out-of-ordinary for me.
So, in sixth grade, I had to start going to this free children’s hospital in the city called Shriners, and there were always a lot of Amish people there, because it was free and they have higher risks for birth defects and problems. And I was a super shy child, but at the same time I didn’t want to sit quietly in a waiting room for a millions years, so I’d usually quietly bond with a kid over some of the toys the waiting room had out, or if I was just reading I’d still make a point to smile politely at everyone I made eye contact with. The adults always seemed suspicious of me, but I figured it was just a whole ‘Amish vs The English’ thing, or because my health problems were a lot less physically obvious than their children’s and they were upset about that. It made me feel uncomfortable, but it was nothing serious.
Except one day, I was making small talk with one family and the little girl had a doll out, and I just said something like “Oh I have one of those dolls! It has a face on it though.” And her mother got all wide eyed and dragged her kids to the other side of the room while talking in their language (I don’t know the name of it) and I was just like???? Oh shit what did I do??? Like it was strange omg.
So anyway, time goes on. I get older, I stop playing with dolls, and actually end up selling or trashing most of them. I kept the Amish doll around though, but it wasn’t like me and my friends were playing with him every day anymore. He was just there. Something inside of me couldn’t bear to get rid of him, but I wasn’t doing anything with him either.
And after a while, it started to feel weird. Like…uncomfortable. Sort of a ‘why don’t you play with me anymore’ vibe, which sounded so stupid, because I was in high school at this point, I could not justify thinking an old toy was sad. This isn’t fucking Toy Story, you know? (Incidentally, while I love the Toy Story films, they’re also lowkey my worst nightmares).
I remember edging around him. Like, he still has the same dumb, cutesy face drawn on, but something was making me uncomfortable to be around him. I felt watched and guilty and nervous. At some point he ended up on the staircase leading to my computer room, just laying there for a couple years. Neither me or my mom ever bothered to touch him.
Okay, so then I go away for my only semester of college, and one day I was in the group chat with my friends and we were talking about creepy things that have happened to us. And I brought up this doll, and they were kinda interested and I remember saying “Watch me come home for break and he’s not gonna be wear I left him” as a joke.
I get home from break…Guess who’s not fucking on the steps like he’d been for the past 3 years?
I was cracking up, I remember texting my friend Zoe who started freaking out, but I was like “Okay, creepy coincidence, but obviously my mom must’ve just moved him or thrown him out”.
…Except my mom had no idea what I was talking about. She had no memory of this doll, let alone walking past it all the time for three years while it sat on the steps. She swore she didn’t move it.
So I was like…okay,
So then I’m back home officially and I still can’t find it. I searched everywhere- not even because I wanted the doll, just because not knowing where it was was making me feel even more nervous and anxious than having to tip-toe around it. I had random scary thoughts pop up in my head of it appearing in my room suddenly, or moving on it’s own. I was really freaking myself out- being paranoid is what I’m best at.
Okay, at some point down the line, one day I’m on my couch just flicking through channels, and I come across a marathon of a show called “Amish Haunting” (Honestly, check it out if you like ghost shows, it’s pretty cool). The episode that happens to be playing is feature a segment called “The Faceless Doll” and the paranormal experience that family had when an English neighbor gave their young daughter a doll with a face. Shit got fucked up for this family. Real shit guys.
They explained within the episode that the reason for faceless dolls is because the Amish believe that fake faces- like on dolls, in photographs, what have you- are an invitation for the Devil into your home. They believe he can use the fake eyes to see into your life and watch you and grow stronger and mess you up, basically. So, when 10 year old Molly drew that face on, not only was she accidentally disrespecting the Amish’s beliefs, she was basically unwittingly inviting Satan into her house, and then using him as a best play mate with her two other Catholic School Girl friends. Iconic.
I have since found the doll- mind you, in a place where he literally never should have been- but things seem…Calmer? I do occasionally feel a little watched, but honestly I feel like now that I’m aware my doll is potentially housing Satan, we’re on better terms? Allegedly a couple of my friends have had weird experiences after insulting him, but I wasn’t around so I can’t confirm or deny. Like, I definitely still get creeped out by him, but not as much, and I don’t feel a weird sad aura around the doll anymore.
So, now I’m just kinda hoping we stay on these chill mutual grounds and I don’t, like, get possessed or anything. But yeah, that’s the story of Amish Satan, you just gotta be a little respectful with him.
Plot: You loved Chanyeol with everything you had; but after many broken promises, it may be time to let him go
Genre: Total and complete angst
Pairing: Chanyeolx Reader
I woke up with a start. I felt sweat beaded on my brow; I wiped it with the back of my hand and slowly opened my eyes. I could see the beginnings of a sunrise creeping in through my blinds, a few birds chirping to start their early day. ‘What time is it?’ I couldn’t find my phone. I lazily pawed at the other side of my bed, startled when my hand hit something warm.
He’s here. Chanyeol is here.
When did he arrive? He surely wasn’t here when I went to sleep at 2am. He had promised me he’d be home by 11. He said he would make me popcorn, and we could finally watch that cheesy drama I’ve been begging him to watch with me. He said we could finally have time together, alone.
But as usual, Chanyeol broke every single one of his promises.