daytime-soaps

anonymous asked:

with the topic of marriage coming up on that last ask how would the proposal go

For davekat I have like 1,000 different scenarios in my head for it so this is by no means my be all end all hc for this but I always liked THAT ONE ROMCOM TROPE, WARNING THIS ENTIRE THING IS TROPEY AS HELL of them independently deciding It’s Time around the same time, and then stealthily trying to figure out the method on their own. Karkat would agonize over it, poring over human cultural material and quizzing kanaya relentlessly on how her and Rose’s proposal went down, how she felt, throwing ideas at her, referencing movies and romantic novels and all of it, while Kanaya just kind of sits there bemused like Karkat. I get this is important. But it’s almost kind just a formality because the answer is a given?? You know Dave he doesn’t need much I think you’re way overthinking this please stop pacing back and forth because your pacing is making me want to pace and I’m nebulously anxious just watching you ._. 

And Dave is just kind of like. Flippant about it externally to people. He drops it as a joke when Karkat isn’t around obviously to people to gauge their reactions in a “safe” way like haha what if I just dropped the question unceremoniously in the middle of some totally inappropriate place obviously I won’t I’m not even thinking about that OBVIOUSLY but wouldn’t it be funny if. And everyone is increasingly suspicious, Dirk is carefully like oh yeah, that would be… hilarious … totally, and roxy is like no you need to make it shittier and more ironic and lavishing ideas for this totally not actually going to happen but everyone knows dave is actually thinking about it proposal

They kinda sneak around it gathering opinions from their friends and family until basically EVERYONE knows this is coming any time now, one of them just has to break, everyone is dropping smug hints and anticipating the moment. Dave nad Karkat are getting increasingly nervous because they’ve now built this up into this big production in both their heads and are terrified of messing it up and meanwhile they’ve kind of been avoiding each other and each one is kind of worried about what THAT means from the other person because they can’t fathom the thought that the other one is doing the exact same thing they are

So finally Karkat is probably the one that breaks first and he sets up this whole romantic date night and dave is a fucking Idiot that can’t put together what this is leading up to because he’s too preoccupied by his own shitty plans and he spends the whole amazing heartfelt well put together date totally distracted and barely experiencing it at all and Karkat is kind of upset and like hey if this is totally awkward and sucks can you please just tell me so that I can call this off instead of enduring the excruciating reality of it a second longer than necessary, I knew this was way too much, god, Kanaya TOLD me this was way too much I am such an idiot!!!! 

and dave is like ??????????? no dude I’m just distracted by my own illogical existential terror sorry I’m shitting up your night, and Karkat puffs up all idignantly like ABOUT WHAT???? what could you possibly be existentially terrified by right now what the fuck is going on??? b/c he’s thinking about how weird and distant they’ve been and half worried Dave is about to like actually break up with him or something catastrophic and Dave is fiddling around with the ring in his pocket and is finally just like well fuck it if I wait another second to do this I’m going to die so sorry this is so shitty but uhhhhhhhh do you want to like???? and he pulls out this ring and Karkat is just GOBSMACKED

like are you fucking joking you spent this entire elaborate lead up I worked on spaced out because you were too preoccupied with how you were gonna do it to notice that I was in the PROCESS OF CONDUCTING MY OWN??? 

and dave is like oh…………………………………………shit and all the lights click on and he’s like oh god I ruined everything TWICE, incredible, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I could possibly ruin everything about this moment from BOTH SIDES SIMULTANEOUSLY holy shit and he’s just kind of standing there and he puts the ring back in his pocket and Karkat is wait what are you doing, I’m pretty sure that’s mine, are you rescinding your offer???? and dave is like wait are you accepting it??? 

and Karkat is like JESUS CHRIST that’s it

we’re starting this over

none of this ever happened

and he takes a deep breath and takes out his OWN ring and gets down on one knee and does the whole thing and Dave starts nervous-laughing halfway through but Karkat grits his teeth and pushes on and asks the question

Dave is just like in this southern belle accent, why mr vantas this is just all so sudden, I don’t even have permission from my family, what WILL my mother say??? and he pulls a very bewildered Karkat up back onto his feet just so he can swoon into his arms all theatrically and is like I guess we’ll just have to run off together and elope! I hope we can find an understanding minister somewhere out there….

Karkat figures out this is just some human bullshit and is deadpan like so that’s a yes. And dave drops the accent and is like uhhh yeah. yeah dude. very yes. And Karkat just melts with relief and is like oh thank fuck and they kiss a bunch and never ever ever ever ever tell anyone the whole truth about how it all actually went down and people needle them and speculate for months but nope, no one needs to know how terrible they are, thanks.

Playing Civ 5

When you decide to play as a peaceful culture/science sort but then the first person you meet is Shaka or Attila or Monty or Genghis or any combination thereof

When someone offers a Declaration of Friendship and IMMEDIATELY starts begging for free luxury resources

When someone inevitably starts plopping down their cities right in your goddamn face

When someone finishes building that Wonder literally one turn before you do

“An Unmet player has lost their original capital!”

When all you can really do is ‘Denounce’ someone you don’t like because they’re too far away to actually threaten

When your Denouncement gets everyone else to denounce them as well

When your rivals end up going to war with each other instead of you

When you win your first war

When you end up an entire tech era ahead of everybody else

When your ranged units finally get that “Range +1″ promotion

When youteam up with someone to take out an asshole Civ

When someone you have a Declaration of Friendship with  declares war on you

When you FINALLY meet the Civs that spawned on the other continents and find out one them has become an unstoppable behemoth runaway Civ

When people start suggesting luxury resource bans in the World Congress

When you choose the Freedom Ideology even tho everybody else chose Order

When you’re winning and every other Civ tries to fucking dogpile you

Patience

Ah I am so relieved that I got to finally finish this and share this with you all! I also want to apologize for anyone who has been waiting on me; thank you for your ‘patience’ (; haha. Thank you and I hope you all enjoy! - M x.

Harry was grumpy.

And he had every right to be, he thought. It started when he was woken up to the sound of your alarm and your body constantly shifting underneath him. He frowned because you didn’t accept his kiss as you rubbed at your tired eyes. “Morning gorgeous,” he mumbled, his eyes blinking so fast as they were desperate to awaken.

His arms pulled you closer to him as he rolls you over onto your back. The vibrations of his deep hums tickled your neck as his lips lazily traced your skin. You laugh at the pecks of kisses that press all along your jawline. “Oh, Button. Dreamed of you all night last night and I want ya’,” he whispers along your collarbone. Your hands find themselves tangled into his hair as you watch him lift his Stones shirt that you wore to bed. A giggle comes from you as he cups your breasts under the fabric, you shake your head as you see the smile that appears on his face. “Babe, we can’t, not right now,” you say, your fingers massaging his scalp as he continues to give you gentle touches with his mouth.

“Why not?” he whines as his mouth continues to give your body wet, hot kisses.

“Got lots to get done today, you know this.”

Harry shakes his head, “Just a few more minutes, Bug. Wanna love on you.” He pulls your body even closer to him. The smile that was planted against your neck disappeared as you start to wiggle your way from his grasp. “Not now, Harry. Maybe after, but we have lots to do today,” you whisper, planting a small kiss on his forehead before you  completely wiggle out of his hold.

He groans as he watches you make your way to the master bathroom, pouting to himself because he couldn’t convince you to stay longer. And by the way you walked so nonchalantly and closed the bathroom door shut, he knew that there was no sign of invitation for him to join you in a steamy shower.

So yes, Harry was grumpy.

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Baby Daddy (Series)

PART I | PART II | PART III |  PART IV | PART V | PART VI | PART VII | PART VIII | 

PART IX

Why was it so hard for life to give you the most basic of your wishes? Were you such a bad person that you were constantly being given a hard time? Were you too selfish that you almost always had to fight for the things you wanted? Or was it just plain bad luck and bad decision making?

You stared at Chi Ah who was scanning a picture book. He wanted a pet fish this morning and when you asked him what kind, he grabbed his aquarium book and has been busy looking for the one he wanted.

“Can daddy buy me this?” he asked you pointing to a tiger shark.

“I think he can. But that one’s too big.” You chuckle.

“We can put it in the tub?” he asks cheerfully.

“I don’t think a shark would like living in a tub, baby.” You tell him petting his head.

“Oh.” He says sadly but proceeds to scan for other fish.

You had made a deal with Jay to let him clean the mess he’d made. You knew that it meant he would have another thing to take care of aside from the million ones he already has on his plate. But he had insisted to prove himself innocent of your accusations.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you write more kit and junior + parswoops maybe?

“It’s called a date,” Kit explained, seeing the confused expression on Junior’s face. He was camped out by the doorway, hoping Kent would rub his belly again.

“What does that mean?”

“It usually means there’s someone he wants to impress,” Kit said, nodding his head towards where Kent was shaving through the open door of the ensuite bathroom.

“Who?” Junior asked predictably.

Kit shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“It looks like he’s just getting ready for a game,” Junior said as he watched Kent.

“Kent doesn’t wear cologne during pregame,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And he hardly wears this shirt either,” she said as she flounced across the sheets to roll on the blue shirt that had been neatly laid on the bed. “Oooh, it’s so soft!”

She got in a couple of rolls before Kent came out of the bathroom to shoo her off of his shirt. “Kit!” He groaned at the cat hairs all over it. “I don’t have time for this.” He threw the shirt in the laundry basket and went back in his closet. Kit followed him and watched him as he went through the rainbow of shirts on his hangers. He pulled one out to consider, but she nipped him gently. “Hey,” he warned, shaking his leg.

“Don’t wear that one,” Kit said. He wisely put it back, and after several minutes, he finally settled on a dove grey shirt that Kit approved of.

“Tie or no tie?” Kent asked, holding two different ones up to his neck in the full-length mirror. “Is it too much?”

“No tie,” Kit meowed

“Tie!” Junior barked at the same time.

Kent decided to forgo the tie in the end.

“Ha! I win,” Kit crowed in victory. She smiled smugly at Junior who seemed like he couldn’t really care less, but Junior had grown to be bigger than Kit these days, and she had to get find other ways to reassert her dominance as top cat.

Kent, oblivious to their antics, suddenly swore and took off running down the hall and the stairs with his pets racing after him.

Kit and Junior dashed in the kitchen  just as Kent was opening the oven. He took out the salmon that Kit had drooled over earlier. “Shit,” Kent muttered as he half-threw the hot pan on a spread towel. “Shit,” he repeated again, which was never a good sign. Junior, ever the empathetic one, rubbed his head against Kent’s calf and barked softly at him.

“What’s wrong?” Junior asked when Kent had given him a quick pat. “What happened? Why is he sad now?”

“He overcooked the salmon,” Kit replied, washing a paw calmly.

“Does that mean he won’t have any food? What if I share mine?”

Kit rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother to reply. Apparently, according to Junior’s logic, if Kent shares his food with him, then Junior should be able to share his food with Kent. Junior still hadn’t learned the dogs were the only ones who seemed to enjoy dog food.

Kent was already on the phone, by the sink, and this was Kit’s chance to jump on the stool before hopping on the island counter. “Hey, yeah, hi, could I order two of your salmon steaks with the works, potatoes, beans, and a throw in a salad too,” Kent said distractedly, but unfortunately, not distracted enough. He snaked an arm around Kit’s middle and grabbed her before she could reach her delicious prize.

“Just a little bite,” she protested, kicking her hind legs uselessly. “It’s not like you’re going to be eating it for dinner.”

“And I’ll pay you double if you can get that to me in the next half hour,” Kent said to the person on the phone, ignoring Kit’s irritated yowls.

Twenty-eight minutes later, the doorbell rang while Kent was vacuuming the couch and muttering about Kit’s shedding. Three minutes and forty-six seconds later, the doorbell rang again, and Kent looked up with wide, panicked eyes. “Shit! Shit, shit shit.” He finished dumping the foil tin of potatoes onto a nice platter before wiping his hands on a dish towel.

Kit waited for him to leave, but Kent was smarter than she gave him credit for because he kicked her and Junior out of the kitchen. Junior was already two steps ahead of Kent as he ran full speed ahead to the front door, yipping excitedly. Kit begrudgingly followed, only because she wanted to see who Kent had dressed up for.

She was disappointed to find Swoops standing on the other side with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his basketball shorts. “Never mind,” Kit muttered to Junior. “It’s not a date after all.”

“It’s not?” Junior cocked his head and looked up the humans.

“It’s just Swoops,” Kit said as she stalked away with her tail in the air. “And he’s dumber than a box of rocks.”

“Oh, was I supposed to dress up too?” Swoops asked in confusion, taking in Kent’s outfit.

“Uh, no. I just haven’t had time to change yet. I just got back from my…um… accountant,” Kent replied.

Kent made some half-hearted excuse as he dashed back upstairs to change, and left Swoops in the living room with Junior and Kit. Swoops and Kit regarded each other warily. She was considering jumping on him just to rile him up, but he already knew the tricks to avoid her claws. Junior, on the other hand, was currently trying to show Swoops his new toy.

When Kent came back, he was wearing faded jeans and a grey t-shirt that Kit had seen him wear countless times before. “So, uh, food?” he asked.

Kit sat on the island and watched while Kent and Swoops ate. Normally, at this time, she would probably be napping, but the suspense of whether the two of them was going to going to admit their mutual attraction was too riveting to miss. It reminded her of the daytime soap operas she watched with Kent when he’d sprained an ankle and was forced to stay home for weeks while it healed. The only thing missing was the evil twin bursting in, or something to that effect. Maybe, Swoops had a crazy ex-wife that everyone thought was dead.

Swoops certainly looked shifty enough as he stared at the food that was laid out. Finally, part way through dinner, he set his fork down. Junior, who had camped out on the floor, waiting for food to “accidentally” fall, perked up.

“Is everything okay?” Kent asked.

“Uh,” Swoops replied as his gaze flickered between Kent and the bottle of wine. “Parser, is this a date?” he asked. His tone was light and joking, but Kent’s eyes widened.

“Uh,” he said as he started to panic. “I–”

It was Swoops’ turn to freeze, and for a long moment of silence neither of them did anything. “You should have told me,” Swoops finally said, wiping his mouth on the napkin one final time before getting up.

“I didn’t– I mean– wait!” Kent caught up with Swoops before he opened the front door. Kit and Junior followed them. “Jeff,” he said softly. Kit could hear that hitch in his voice which meant her night was probably going to be busy licking and cuddling Kent if this didn’t go well. “It doesn’t have to be. I mean, it’s not. It’s not a date.”

“It is though. I should have realized it sooner,” Swoops sighed. “I’m sorry, Kent.”

This time, Kent didn’t stop him when he left. He stood there for a long time, not even responding when Junior whined sadly and nudged him. Eventually, he moved stiffly in the living room. Junior dropped the remote on Kent who automatically turned it on and stared at it blankly. Kit sat in his lap and cuddled up to him, but it even that wasn’t cheering him up.

“I fucked up,” he said a moment later with no emotion.

“The next time I see him, I’m going to bite him,” Kit promised cheerfully. Kent didn’t reply; it was too bad he didn’t understand her because he would definitely smile at that. “Also, I’m going to claw him.”

The light gradually dimmed until the living room was only lit by the flickering TV and the streetlights outside. Junior and Kit could hear the sound of an engine long before Kent could. Junior was the first to jump off the couch and climb up on the arm chair that Kent had pushed against the window. “Swoops is here?” he barked.

“What?” hissed Kit. “He came back!?”

“He’s back,” Junior confirmed.

She sat up quickly in anger and agitation as she tried to think of a word to properly express how she felt. “Fuck!”

Junior looked back her curiously. “What does that word mean?”

“I have no idea,” Kit admitted. “Kent says it all the time when he mad, or sad, or… excited?”

The doorbell rang, but Kent made no move to answer it. It wasn’t until the banging started that he started push Kit off. “No,” Kit meowed. “Don’t answer it. Stay here with me!” She gave her best approximation of her “cute” face, but it didn’t have the effect she wanted on Kent.

In the front hall, Kit was ready to spring as soon as Kent opened the door. This time, she wouldn’t hold back her claws on Swoops. This was what he deserved for upsetting Kent. However, when the door opened again to reveal Swoops again for the second time that evening, he was wearing a suit. Kit was momentarily thrown, but Junior was already barking angrily up at Swoops.

“Stop,” Kent ordered. He held onto Junior’s collar and rubbed his back until Junior was calm enough to shut up. “What are you doing here?” Kent finally asked.

“I brought you these,” Swoops said, pulling out a bunch of flowers from behind his back. Kent’s jaw dropped, unable to come up with another reaction. “I know they’re not great, but the flower stand on the way here didn’t have a great selection.” After another pause, Swoops thrust them further towards Kent.

“You brought me flowers?” Kent said slowly, accepting the half-wilted blooms.

“Don’t accept them. It’s a trap,” Kit meowed. Everyone ignored her. Even Junior was glancing back and forth between Swoops and Kent.

Swoops scratched the back of neck. “It was a date. I didn’t realize it, but now I do.”

“Yeah, and you left,” Kent snapped.

“I was going to come back,” Swoops said, his brow furrowing. “Didn’t I say that?”

“No!”

“Oh, well, I’m back now,” he said with a sheepish laugh.

“Why?”

“Because it’s still a date,” Swoops said slowly. The duh at the end of the sentence was heavily implied.

“What?”

Swoops stepped closer and hesitantly reached out to touch Kent’s cheek. Neither of them spoke as they drew closer until they were kissing.

“Aw,” Junior gushed.

“Gross,” Kit complained,

She decided this was her cue to give them some privacy. “Let’s go,” she said to Junior. They went around the corner back to the living room. It was far enough away that she didn’t have to suffer through watching them make out, but close enough that she could still hear what was going on.

“Now, go get dressed. I’m taking you out,” Swoops said.

“But, we already ate.”

“Well, then I’m taking you out for dessert.”

“I’ve got a better idea for dessert,” Kent said. There was a slam of the door and heavy footsteps running up the stairs.

“Should we–” Junior started asking.

Kit immediately cut off that thought. “No! We are not going anywhere upstairs tonight.”

“But–”

“Trust me on this, kiddo. You do not want to know how dates end.”

Find more Kit and Junior adventures here!

Power Rangers (2017) headcanons I thought of at work (Part 1 - Moms):

Billy and Zack’s mothers are both the best.  The team loves both of them and both of them love their kids’ weird friends right back.

Billy’s mom is socially awkward and hangs back instead of really interacting with them, but she always lets them be there when it seems like they need to be, even if it’s 2 am on a weeknight, and she stocks the fridge really carefully with them in mind and leaves little notes on the junk food like ‘Eat some veggies first!  There’s a tray in the fridge!’  They’re not sure how she works out their favorite snacks so quickly or how she knows when they need some quiet space or are going to end up sleeping on her couch, but she always does.

Zack’s mom interacts with them a lot more.  English is her second language, and she speaks it well, but it clearly takes a lot of effort.  Sometimes when Zack’s around he translates for her because it’s fast, but if he’s not around, she does her best, and if something’s clearly really wrong, she’ll send him away and make do without him so she can help the other Rangers with their problems more privately.  She’s a good listener and asks lots of questions so they always feel really understood, even if it takes a while to explain.  When she answers to give them advice, she speaks slowly and thoughtfully, and she always finds the right thing to say, even if she has to do it with a lot of little words and metaphors.  Sometimes they use Google translate on a smartphone when she has the word in Mandarin and no set of multiple laborious English words will do.

(When Trini asks her whether she thinks she should come out to her parents or not, she says that if they kick her out, she can live with her and Zack.  Trini knows Zack and his mom can’t afford to take care of another person, but she also knows Zack’s mom is completely, 100% serious about that and would take her in in a heartbeat.)  (When Billy tells his mom about it, not realizing quite how private a thing that is, she says the same thing, but can’t figure out how to actually make the offer to Trini without making her uncomfortable.  She makes a pact with herself to invite Trini to stay if it comes to that, though.)

The first time any of them met Zack’s mom, it was because Zack had gotten in trouble at school and been held back for after-school detention.  Billy knew he usually went home to check on his mom and decided to go make sure she was ok until Zack could get there.  He explains that he’s there because he loves Zack and Zack loves her, and because Zack’s mom is using her second language and Billy can’t follow social cues, neither of them realize that this explanation has been misunderstood.  Billy means that he and Zack are friends, but particularly close, emotionally intimate ones.  Zack’s mom can’t understand why her son hasn’t mentioned his very surprising but, once she gets to know him a little, thoroughly adorable boyfriend.

Billy reports back to the group that Zack’s right.  His mom IS the best.  (Well… the second best.  She’s the best of the moms that aren’t Billy’s.)  He explains how she beat him at chess and let him fix her old busted tv set and remains blissfully unaware of the whole boyfriend mix-up, which Zack and his mom had laughed about extensively and which is making Zack make weird amused faces he refuses to explain.

The second time Zack gets after school detention, Kimberly goes along with Billy to check on her, and then Trini shows up 15 minutes later having not said a word to anyone about checking on the woman and is graciously welcomed inside.  By the time Zack gets there, all four of them are reasonably invested in a daytime soap opera on the crappy tv Billy fixed.

For a while, one of the kids or another will pop in every few days to catch up on ‘their soap’ and see how Zack’s mom is doing, and they gradually start coming more often and getting more invested in the show and by the end of the school year, all five of them troop over there after school nearly every day to watch it together.

Zack translates for his mom when things get going too fast and she gets confused, and Billy asks constant questions about why everyone’s doing what they’re doing, because it doesn’t really make sense, and Kimberly tries to draw out a family tree to help, and Jason buys the soap opera digest at the grocery store while he’s picking up his favorite protein power nonsense from when he was still on the team, and they’re still not totally sure what’s going on sometimes.  Trini’s secretly the only one who can keep track of everything, but she’ll only wade in and give them the right answer if they’ve been debating something for over 5 minutes.  Mostly they enjoy giggling together over it and the ways everybody’s misunderstandings make the show 1000 times better.

Anything Can Happen In The Next Half Hour - Nine

The questions started almost as soon as Y/N reached her apartment door to see Garcia sitting on the floor outside it. For once she wasn’t wearing her trademark pretty dresses and heels. She was still in pink, but it was pink sweats and her hair was pulled up into a pony tail. She wore sunglasses on her face and Y/N knew that underneath would be the remains of last night’s make up smudged around her eyes. Hungover Penelope was someone that she’d had the pleasure of meeting a few times before.

“Who was he?” Garcia reached her hands up and Y/N grasped them, tugging her colleague and friend up off the floor and unlocking the apartment door. They both entered, Penny carrying take out cartons, the smells of fresh coffee and bacon permeating the air. Y/N ignored her question, kicking her heels off by the door and rummaging in her bag for her cell phone.

“Who was he?” Penny asked again and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“The dude from the chat room, okay. Lemme get changed into my sweats and plug my cell in. Batteries almost dead. Set the food out and put the TV on.”

Twenty minutes later and the two girls were curled up at opposite ends of the couch, under the soft throw blankets that Y/N kept in her living room. An omnibus of a daytime soap opera that they both pretended to hate but secretly adored was playing on the TV and they were hungrily scoffing down pancakes and bacon.

“So…..what happened? You didn’t even tell us you were leaving, neither did Spencer. I was beginning to think that you’d sloped off together somewhere until Rossi told me you’d left separately.”

Y/N choked on her pancakes, using the hot coffee to swill them back down.

“Spencer left ages before me. I walked out with Hotch. And… erm.. We started messaging again two weeks ago and I just decided to go for it. A girl has needs that sometimes she can’t sate herself.”

“And were those needs sated?”

Y/N was in two minds how to answer this one. Because.. well it was Spencer she was talking about here, but Garcia didn’t know it was Spencer. But it still seemed weird.

Penelope was raising her eyebrows, waiting expectantly, her food now finished and the containers discarded onto the floor.

“Well?”

Screw it. “Yes my needs were sated. Three times.”

Penelope summoned up enough energy to gleefully clap her hands together. “Are you seeing him again?”

Well technically they’d see each other on Monday but that wasn’t what Penny meant.

“I think we’re gonna see how it plays out.”

“So do you like him then?”

“Penelope it was just sex.”

“But you’re thinking about seeing him again?”

Yes, yes she was.

“Just for sex.”

Penny had removed her shades and Y/N could see her eyes narrowing momentarily.

“I mean it Pen. If I see him again it’s solely for the sake of orgasms. Don’t you dare go reading into this.”

“Will you at least tell me his name? Or his user ID.”

“Not a chance in hell. Same reason I won’t tell you mine, because you would somehow hack it and find out exactly what I’m doing or saying and there’s some things that even best friends don’t want to share. No offence like.”

She did looked offended, her lips turning down into a frown.

“Pen… Come on. I really don’t want you knowing some of the filthy things I’ve said in that chat. And you know you’d look, don’t even try to deny it. I love you and all but there’s some things that I need to keep for my own.”

Y/N reached across the couch and squeezed Penelope’s hand lightly.

“Just…. If anything else happens, if this person becomes more important to you, then you’ll tell me?”

“You’ll be the first to know, I promise.”

Garcia smiled at her and the two girls settled back into the cushions and spent the rest of the day watching movies and gossiping idly, ordering takeout in the evening and cracking open a bottle of wine. Penelope ended up stopping over that evening too, Y/N excusing herself for a quick bath at around 8pm and taking her phone with her.

Spencer hadn’t messaged her all day and she wasn’t sure whether to message him either. Now they’d done the deed she wondered if they’d stop hiding in the chat room and switch to conventional texting. She logged in quickly to check, seeing a message left around two hours after she’d left his company this morning.

Dr: Erm so. This is all kinda new to me. Sleeping with someone I know and all that when I’m not actually dating them. But I just wanted to say that last night and this morning was pretty amazing. And I hope things with Penelope weren’t too awkward. Or that things will be awkward between us on Monday.

She grinned to herself, wiggling her body under the bubbles.

Raising her arm out, she snapped a photo and pressed send, choosing to send via WhatsApp rather than the chat so she wouldn’t have to wait until he logged on. She sent a message along with it.

“Penny is still here. She accepted the story about it being the guy from the chat which technically isn’t even a story. And yes, it was pretty amazing. I believe I’ve said this once before but you’re full of surprises Spencer Reid. It won’t be awkward, it’s not been up until now and we’re both adults here; we both know this is just sex.”

She rested her phone on the chair she kept at the side of the tub for towels, hearing it vibrate around five minutes later as she was shaving her legs. She picked it up when she was done.

“You have said it before. I could give you the date and time and the conversation if you’d like without even having to check, lol. But yes, we’re both adults. Have fun with Penelope, and thanks for the pic and the underwear under my pillow.”

“Just to keep you going until next time, yeah.”

“Yeah, until next time.”

When Y/N climbed into bed later that evening next to a tipsy Garcia, she lay there thinking. When exactly would the next time be. And how many more next times would there actually be?

Across town Spencer was wondering the same thing.

The events of The Exorcist (film) exist in The Exorcist (tv show) so in this universe the iconic film The Exorcist never happened, but Chris MacNeil did publish a book about it and she was a famous actress so there was a lot of publicity, WHICH MEANS–and this is canon, I assure you–there was an extremely hokey tv movie called The Demon In My Daughter that was very bad, and not good, and just very bad, and it’s Marcus’s favorite film. He has a VHS of it. He likes quoting the exorcists in the film, who are very cool and sexy daytime soap actors who vow to do anything to help Reagan, who is played by an actress who was never in anything and whose possession was depicted by a little green tint to her skin and a delicate forehead cut. 

Lend Me Your Jacket

A/N: I know a bunch of people have already written about what Betty and Jughead’s conversation would be after he ran out of the Homecoming dance, but here’s my take on it 

Summary: It’s the morning after the Homecoming dance and Jughead is still upset with Betty after everything that happened, but even through his anger and their fighting, he still remains to be a gentleman

Betty rubbed her bloodshot eyes as she leaned against the outside of the Jones’ trailer, smoothing down her dirt-stained dress with her shaky hands while she watched the sun begin to nudge its way over the tips of the trees, giving way to early signs of morning. Her head snapped up when she heard the door unlock from inside the trailer, watching with hopeful eyes as Jughead stepped out into the chilly morning air, still in his formal attire from the night before just as she was. Jughead barely glanced in her direction before trudging down the path away from the trailer park, and away from the girl who he believed had betrayed him. 

“Jug, please talk to me,” Betty begged, shuffling her feet along the snow-covered dirt road in an effort to keep up with his quick pace. “Let me explain to you why-”

“Go home, Betty,” Jughead shot back, his eyes locked on the path in front of him as he continued forward, completely determined to get as far away from her as possible. “I didn’t want to talk to you last night, and believe it or not that hasn’t changed in the mere eight hours since I last saw you.” 

“That’s not fair, Jughead, you know I would never do anything to hurt you,” Betty reminded him. “So why won’t you let me at least explain my side of the story?”

“You want to talk about fair?” Jughead spat, spinning around to face her for the first time since their fight in the school hallway the night before. “Okay, let’s talk about how my father, who was finally starting to get his life together, got arrested for murder last night even though it’s virtually impossible for me to believe that he could do something like that. That’s not fair. And in case you haven’t figured it out by now, life has been particularly less fair for those of us with the name Forsythe Pendleton Jones so we have that going for us too.” 

“I know it wasn’t your dad,” Betty told him, her eyes pleading with him to believe her as she took a step in his direction. “I know he didn’t do it. I believed you when you told me that in front of your trailer, and I believe you now. I would never lie to you. I would never break your trust like that.”

“But you did lie,” Jughead pointed out, his brows drawing together and contorting his face into a look of hard disappointment. “You didn’t tell me the truth about the Jones/Cooper dinner from hell that I should have known was doomed from the start. That counts as lying in my book.”

“I’m sorry,” Betty breathed, her shoulders dropping forward in defeat and her eyes beginning to prickle with unwanted tears. “I’m so sorry, Jug, I don’t know what else you want me to say. The way I feel about you - it’s making me want to protect you from getting hurt and I sometimes forget that there’s a right and a wrong way to go about things.” 

Betty took a step forward to close the gap between them completely, her hands instinctively flying up to caress his cheeks and to her relief, he didn’t pull away. 

“I was wrong, and I’m sorry,” Betty whispered, her thumb moving gently across his cheek before her hands dropped to her sides and she slowly backed away from him. 

Jughead’s face softened ever-so-slightly when he saw Betty’s hands reach up to rub her own bare arms as a shiver overtook her body in the chilly morning air. 

“You’re cold,” Jughead noticed, his eyes dropping to take in the sleeveless dress that she had worn to the dance and her jacket-less shoulders.

“No, no, I’m fine,” she assured him, but the chattering of her teeth gave her away and Jughead narrowed a pair of skeptical eyes at her. 

“Bets, you think I don’t know you well enough to be able to tell when you’re freezing,” Jughead reminded her, already beginning to shrug his suit jacket off his shoulders and handing it out for her to take. “Here.”

“Jug, you really don’t have to-”

Before she could protest, Jughead was stepping around her to drape the jacket over her delicate frame, his breath tickling the back of her neck as he leaned forward to adjust the fabric around her shoulders. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, pushing her arms through the sleeves and pulling it tightly around her body. 

“It looks better on you anyway,” Jughead admitted, pulling on the collar of his white button-down shirt and undoing the top two buttons. 

“Always the gentleman,” Betty mumbled under her breath, smiling sheepishly up at him as the sun shone all around them, creating a brilliant glow along the perimeter of the trailer park. “Just like your Dad said.” 

“Yeah,” Jughead muttered, his gaze dropping down to the road as he kicked at a pile of snow with his smudged dress shoe. 

“We’re going to clear his name, Juggie,” Betty promised, reaching forward to place a reassuring hand on his elbow. “We’re going to figure out who framed your Dad and how they were the ones who really killed Jason. I promise.”

“Making promises you can’t keep is a dangerous game, Bets,” Jughead told her, not unkindly. “We’ve learned from literature and history books and various reruns of daytime soap operas, that traveling down that path leads you off a cliff of which you can’t return.” 

“I believe in you, just like I told you before everything got all messy and complicated,” Betty assured him, her eyes shining hopefully up at him as he tilted his chin to meet her gaze. “And I believe that together we can do anything. Do you?”

There was moment of silence that lingered between them in which everything they had gone through over the past few weeks flashed across his mind. And after every memory, good or bad, made its way down the assembly line, his thoughts always came back to one lingering notion that he could never seem to shake - it had always been, and always will be, Betty Cooper who he could count on to be there for him. No matter what. 

“Yeah, I do,” he whispered, his breath coming out in cloudy spurts in the cold air as his eyes tentatively flicked down to meet her knowing gaze. 

“Alright, then let’s go solve this murder,” Betty declared, gesturing for Jughead to lead the way as she started to pull his jacket off her body by one of the sleeves so she could return it to him. 

“Keep it,” Jughead insisted, grabbing her arm before she could shrug the jacket off completely and adjusting it upright on her shoulders. “It’s a long way back to your house and I know how sensitive you are to the cold so in case we get stuck out in the snow like those people in that movie about the ski lift, I’m not taking any chances.” 

Betty gave him a grateful nod, biting her bottom lip to hide her relieved smile as they began walking side by side back to the Cooper house. She wasn’t naive enough to believe that a jacket alone was meant to symbolize that he had forgiven her for keeping the truth hidden from him, but it was that jacket she would cling to for warmth and hope and any inkling that he might feel the same way about her that she did him, until they were in each other’s arms again. And for now, that was enough for her. 

RICHARD BOETH
APRIL 29, 2017

The WGA’s master contract with Hollywood’s major studios is set to expire at midnight on Monday. If no new agreement is in place, striking writers could be marching with picket signs the next morning — instead of writing TV shows.

A writers strike would not mean that all television would suddenly be thrust into reruns. But some effects would be immediate, and a lengthy walkout could have a huge impact across the dial.

Late-night
Late-night, where writers’ rooms are open year-round, would be the first television sector affected. “The Tonight Show,” “The Late Show,” “Jimmy Kimmel Live,” “Conan,” and “The Daily Show” would go dark immediately — though they might not stay dark for long. David Letterman, whose Worldwide Pants production company owned “Late Show” and “Late Late Show” a decade ago — cut a separate deal with the WGA that allowed him and Craig Ferguson to return to the air during the 2007-08 strike with their writing staffs intact. But that’s not an option this time around as CBS has owned its late-night franchises since’s Letterman’s departure in 2015.

Letterman’s return to the airwaves on Jan. 2, 2008, forced competitors at NBC, ABC, and Comedy Central to follow suit, only without writers. Jay Leno, Conan O’Brien, Jimmy Kimmel, and Jon Stewart were forced to ad-lib their way through their shows. Jimmy Fallon, Stephen Colbert, James Corden, and, once again, Kimmel would face the same pressure to go back on the air amid an extended work stoppage — a challenging decision since all four hosts are also WGA members. “Saturday Night Live,” however, would be unlikely to air without writers on board. The NBC sketch comedy series would see its 42nd season come to a halt. “SNL” is scheduled to deliver three more originals this season, starting May 6 with Chris Pine as host.

Daytime
There are roughly half the number of daytime dramas on broadcast now as there were at the start of the 2007-08 strike. Another work stoppage would send the surviving soaps quickly off air, and likely be the death knell for some, if not all of them. Daytime soaps are expensive endeavors in perpetual production. Once those productions are stopped, and replaced with less expensive nonfiction programming, not restarting them becomes an easy choice to make. Daytime syndicated programming ranging from Ellen DeGeneres’ talk show to “Jeopardy” would also be affected, although those shows tend to bank episodes well in advance.

Award Shows
The 2007-08 strike turned the Golden Globes into a press conference with no stars in attendance. It also threatened, but ultimately left unscathed, the Academy Awards. The next major awards show this year is the Tony Awards, scheduled for June 7, set to be hosted by Kevin Spacey and air on CBS. But the newly rechristened MTV Movie and TV Awards, scheduled for May 7, would be the first live awards show to be impacted by a strike. Even if much of the writing for the show is already completed, stars would be unlikely to attend the show, as they would have to cross picket lines to do so.

Summer TV
In drama and comedy, cable and streaming shows whose writers rooms are up and running as well broadcast summer series will be affected by a strike that lasts more than a week or two. Writers rooms would be shut down and production halted shortly after completed scripts run out. Among the series currently in or heading into production that could be impacted are AMC’s “The Walking Dead,” FX’s “American Horror Story” and “You’re the Worst,” and broadcast dramas such as CBS’ new “Salvation.”

Fall TV
A strike that lasts only a few weeks or a month will have little effect on the traditional September to May broadcast season — unlike 2007, when the Nov. 5 start date of the strike shuttered writers rooms on shows that premiered in fall, with some shows never returning. But if a work stoppage extends into July or August, it will start to infringe on the seven to nine weeks of writer prep that broadcast series need before heading into production. That could mean orders for new and returning shows would end up shortened, and fall premiere dates could be pushed into later in the year.

Good short synopsis of what happens if the writers strike from Variety.
more concepts:
  • yuuri and victor hosting dinner parties for all their skating friends all the time

“I’ll break out the wine!” “Ooh, where’s my pole???” “Christophe no!”

  • visiting hasetsu whenever they can to check up on the family (and because makkachin misses everyone so much)

“Yuuri, Vicchan!!! Please come in, I have katsudon ready!!” “Can I take a picture of you kissing??? The skating otakus will love it!” “Victor, please get your dog off of me.” “Oops, sorry Mari-chan.”

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a crack in the wall.

It was a Tuesday in May when Beatrice Porter found the crack in her wall. Right in the far corner of her upstairs hall closet, behind the old coats and dusty umbrella stand full of unused tennis rackets. She couldn’t see the crack, but she could feel a cold air coming from it—and sometimes there were sounds.

For the first week or so she ignored it. She rarely frequented the second floor of the house, especially since Charlie died. There was just no need to. Nothing up there but bedrooms for long-nonexistent guests and an attic full of antiques. Besides, she preferred to avoid climbing any extra staircases.

But one day she’d been dusting upstairs when she heard the sounds for the first time. A whistling, like a strong wind, and a sort of faraway growl. She set down her duster to investigate. She still couldn’t see the crack, but the umbrella stand and its tennis rackets were missing.

She found one of the rackets a week later while putting new soap in the upstairs bathroom. She decided to store it on the top shelf of her bedroom closet until the umbrella stand showed up.

It never did.

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Hurting

Hey guys- so I had a long hiatus whereby I watched PP and occupied myself with real life. But now, I’m ready to get back into the writing groove! :D

This is a continuation of the latest episode of Grey’s, 13x12. I just can’t bear to see Amelia withdrawing and distancing herself from Owen like that on the show. And it’s really painful to see Owen hurting. I hope Omelia can have a heart to heart talk and sort things out!

 Anyways, enjoy…and my apologies in advance if my writing is a little rusty- I haven’t written for quite some time after all….:P

p.s Special thanks to dear Susie @hurricaneawelia for helping me to proofread this- you’re the best! <3

Disclaimer: This is written before 13x13 airs.

 The pepperoni pizza tasted so delicious as Amelia closed her eyes to savor its taste in her mouth.

‘ He said to tell you he’s not gonna wait forever.’ her mentee Stephanie interrupted the blissful moment.

‘ What?’ Amelia mumbled in reply, her mouth still full of pizza. She didn’t realize that she was starving until she took the first bite.

‘Before he walked away, Dr Hunt told me to tell you that he’s not going to wait forever.’ Stephanie repeated in a clearer tone. ‘It seems like he’s losing his patience.’

Amelia didn’t reply, choosing to take another bite of her pizza instead. Lately her appetite had increased, and every food she took tasted heavenly.

Stephanie sighed, internally debating on whether to probe Amelia further. Amelia was her mentor and superior, she had no right to interfere with her personal business. On the other hand, watching Amelia withdraw from Owen and avoiding him at all costs was getting painful to watch. She didn’t know exactly what happened between them, but she could see that it was eating Owen up inside. She noticed that he had this sad and worried expression permanently stamped on his face since Amelia moved in to stay with her a couple of days ago.

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etherealbatwing  asked:

Hello! May I please get some HCs for the chocobros and how they would react spending the night with their S/O for the first time? The thing is it was completely by accident that they end up having to do so~

OKAY OKAY, SO I’m bad at this s/o thing bc i much prefer character/character shippy things, so it’s very neutral and if you close your eyes it works for any ship really. BUT I did it?? I think? I DON’T KNOW GUYS. 

After being fussed over by royal attendants all day, then dragged around the Citadel to blocks of princely meetings he paid little mind too, Noctis only wants to feel some semblance of normalcy again. So when he’s had a long day, Noct usually finds himself making evening visits that end with him on their couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, suit jacket slung over the armrest and tie hanging loose against his chest. Popping a few of the buttons open on his dress shirt lets him feel like he can breathe again. He makes a passing mention of having a massive headache, but apparently finds himself well enough to stare at flashy pixels for the rest of the evening; he gets up to turn on the gaming console and grab the two controllers off the entertainment center, tossing the second one at them (the one that will give them the 2nd player screen, because even though it might be their house, he is the prince and he’ll use that as leverage— but only for important things, like making sure he’s got the 1st player, top screen view).

It’s a small activity, filled with sitting close enough to bump shoulders, playing dirty to get ahead, and cursing at each other with a smile on each of their faces, but Noct just wanted this. To come over, play some video games with his favorite person, and unwind— and he does. So much so that when they get up to grab something to drink from the kitchen, they return to find Noctis laying across the couch, controller loosely still set in his hands, head resting where they were previously sitting, out cold. In short, it ends up being an impromptu sleepover.

He’ll wake up, long eyelashes fluttering, with his head in their lap and their hand brushing through his hair. Noctis has a moment of tired deliriousness where he’s trying to figure why the ceiling looks nothing like the one in his room before he catches the other’s gaze. Oh. Right. He shifts in their lap and makes a move to sit back up, only to be gently kept against them. A blush rises against his cheeks as he tries to apologize, his voice a low, sleepy rumble in his chest. They can tell he’s trying to play it off with a cool attitude, but the redness tingeing his ears says otherwise. He’s probably asking a million self-conscious questions in his head, most of which come across as a blow to his imagined nonchalant-ness— he’s worried about snoring too loud, sleeping with his mouth open, drooling on them— but he manages to ask what time it is. 3am. With their hand still in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and his eyes closing as he tucks his face against their stomach and sighs, there’s no argument. He might as well stay the rest of the night.

With Prompto, accidentally staying over the first time is unquestionably because of an accident. This boy tries so hard to impress the one he likes and what better way to do so than help them make dinner? He comes over prepared: finds the recipe that morning, picks up all the necessary groceries, and arrives at 6 o’clock sharp to get started. He’s only a little mad at himself for forgetting his “Kiss the Cook” apron at home. Nonetheless, Prompto insists that he do it all himself, arguing that they do too much for him as it is—and maybe he feels a little guilty over the fact that they paid the quite substantial bill for their last diner date at Galdin Quay in its entirety. The least he can do cook a small meal for the two of them. Except it’s not small. And it’s exceedingly more complicated (and expensive) than anticipated; but it’s fine! He’s been watching a lot of cooking shows lately, that’s definitely gonna pay off tonight.

Except none of it is much help when he’s quite a bit flustered being around someone that makes his heart flip in his chest just from meeting his eyes, let alone actually laughing at his stupid puns (‘Penne for your thoughts?’ he said, pouring the penne into the boiling water. And they had actually giggled, like, a real one! Not out of pity!) But the combination of being nervous and jittery while trying to be a literal Bobby Flay, causes him to forget to put the lid on the blender. There’s a quick pulse, a decisively girlish screech, and then silence. There’s now homemade spaghetti sauce splattered over the walls, down the counter, and, mainly, all over Prompto. Down his chest, in his hair and across his face. He thinks for a moment that they’ll be peeved, but when he’s greeted with the sound of laughter and a finger swiping at the line of sauce down his freckled cheek to take a taste, he’s relived if not extraordinarily embarrassed. 

By the time they’ve got his clothes in their washer, him in the shower, and dinner finally done, it’s late; his clothes still need to dry and food still needs to be eaten. When Prompto comes out of the bathroom, hair damp and drooping without any gel, wearing some mismatched amalgamation of their clothes he borrowed, it’s natural to suggest that he spend the night. He agrees, perhaps a bit too eagerly, laughing and watching them break out a jar of spaghetti sauce to replace the one now slowly drying against the wall.

Gladiolus tends to pride himself on being smooth— in some part, it’s the charm that got him in this relationship in the first place— but, damn, is he so much more sweetly conniving than they initially gave him credit for. Usually he finds himself planning dates on the weekends, but when he calls them on a weekday to let them know he’s dropping by their place for a visit after work, they know something’s up. It doesn’t hit them until they’re cuddled up on the couch, hand-in-hand and stomachs full after a junk food filled night of Cup Noodles and a couple beers, watching the nightly news. “A strong storm front moving in bringing periods of light snow throughout the evening, ending in a combination of sleet and freezing ra—“ A dusting of snow had the entire city of Insomnia shutting down, let alone a whole inch. “It is advisable that people stay off the roads if possible and take caution to avoid—“

Gladio pulls them closer to kiss the top of their head and smiles into their hair, “Guess I’m spending the night then?“ And that’s all it takes. Honestly, how had they not seen this coming? He’d planned this since he heard the weather report two days ago; he knows what he’s trying to set up. They have to resist laughing with a roll of their eyes when he excuses himself to grab something out of his car and comes back with a small, pre-packed sports bag filled with spare clothes, a toothbrush, a razor… he is not trying to hide this at all. Talk about over-confident. Yet still strangely coy enough to have never outright asked to spend the night without an excuse? Cute.

The night is spent doing lot of shitty movie watching, finding the worst direct to television productions possible and binging them— everything ranging from one about supernatural sharks, to another about a scorned housewife that plays off like a daytime soap opera. Gladio’s infectious laugh makes them both more than giddy and they find themselves making fun of every little corny line and botched CGI until the credits roll then the early morning block of infomercials start playing. Gladio stands up, back and arm muscles pulling his tattoo taut as he stretches and yawns before hoisting them up too. Tossing them a wink, he declares himself ready for bed and saunters on into their room, shedding his shirt on the way. It’s like he’s lived there the whole time, like this wasn’t something new. The casualness of it all is more than welcoming. 

The shops began closing their doors and the plaza’s usual throngs of people were thinning when Ignis suggests calling it an evening; it’s getting quite late after a long night of a reserved, high-class dining and walking the city streets together, popping in and out of small boutiques and sitting on park benches, watching daring street performers make their living. It’s painfully obvious that Ignis doesn’t often find time to unwind— and, gods, does it take an hour or so to whittle the advisory persona down— but from the way his shoulders slouch far more than usual, the way his lips curve into a smirk instead of a tight line of concentration, the way he backtalks and quips, anyone can see the ease the night has brought him. Being nothing short of an extraordinary gentleman, he’ll offer to drive them back to their place. He outright refuses to let them take the Insomnian subway system at the dead of night.

So the plan was to end the night at their doorstep— walking them up the steps, leaving a chaste kiss against their lips with a promise to see them again soon— except when he retreats, leaving them floating on air in the doorway, watching him get into his car with an almost dorky wave goodbye, Ignis can’t get his stupid royal car to start. Gods, it’s making the saddest little stalling noise and it’s nearing midnight, and Ignis is a little panicked when the ‘check engine’ light turns on. When he’s asked to come inside their house to figure out what to do next, he agrees, a tad defeated. Once inside, they ask him to stay the night— not for sleazy intentions. It’s simply that Hammerhead is far away and overnight towing is expensive. Despite the fact that they know he can pay for it, it seems senseless. Stay the night and wait until morning? 

Ignis feels alight with nerves. He clears his throat and tries a few excuses as to why he shouldn’t stay— it’s not out of ungratefulness, he assures them. Most of what he says is trivial, nervous talking that stems from not wanting to sleep in his clothes, or not having clean clothes to wear the next morning, or disturbing their sleep. He plays it off as being a bother, but, really, he’s reluctant to let them see him not at his best; as if this will change their whole view of him if they see him so undignified in the morning, with his horrendous bedhead and un-pressed clothes. It’s a level of personal that Ignis is not used to anyone seeing. But when their hand is on his, and their waving off his excuses, he’s convinced to stay.

Regardless, they can’t stop him from being so apologetic for imposing on them, acting as if he sabotaged his own car. And, wow, he is so awkward when he crawls into bed with them, murmuring little apologies when his legs, bare from stripping down to his briefs, brushes against theirs. They convince him it’s more than fine by tangling them together to guide him closer into their arms, where he’ll find that he spends the rest of the night.

End Up Here (Asa x reader) [smut]

pdiddle01 said: hey can you make me a super smutty “ I meet asa in the streets but his body guards are all around him, but i manage to give him my hotel and room number while i stay in london”?

Hey! So… this proved to be a challenge for me (I had too many ideas and too little time). I incorporated the whole vacationing in London thing and meeting Asa in public, but minus the body guards. I hope you like it though! x

Originally posted by save-my-soul

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Vancouver Crew Headcanons

Koh
-The baby of the group
-Just the sweetest, most adorable guy you’ve ever met
-170 cm in cleats 
-Not the best soccer player but he tries. The Aglionby soccer team isn’t exactly going to regionals (the crew team is really good for a team from the mountains)
-Koh is one of the three Vancouver crowd members not actually from Vancouver (the others are Rutherford and SickSteve). He’s from Incheon, outside of Seoul, and only learned English in school
-The worst at foreign languages. It’s amazing he speaks as much English as he does. Very noticeable and cute accent. Can’t pronounce anyone’s name correctly. The VC rolls with it
-Will probably end up following in his dad’s footsteps and working for LG Chem 
-Loves Ryang. LOVES Ryang. He finds the pretentiousness funny. Most of the time

SickSteve
-Going head to head with Adam Parrish and one other dude for valedictorian
-Film buff. Obnoxious film buff. Only Ryang can top him for obnoxiousness
-Such an asshole. The VC highkey love it. SickSteve is very good at pinpointing the crux of an issue and confronting people about it. Don’t debate SickSteve. Don’t. Also don’t say ignorant shit unless you’re prepared to get your ass handed to you
-Dealing with a lot of issues, including internalized homophobia, due to a Baptist upbringing and strict parents. Not the only one in the VC with strict parents but definitely the only one with super-religious parents and the threat of losing an entire community if he goes against them
-Is definitely going to elope with Lee-Squared at some point 
-Koh’s bestie primarily because SickSteve is first generation. They largely speak in Korean. Koh makes fun of SickSteve’s Jeollado and SickSteve makes fun of his aegyo, and both just find the relationship really comforting

Lee-Squared
-Puts up a good front of being incredibly nice and supportive but agrees with SickSteve on basically everything
-Chubby. Struggles with his weight. His family doesn’t help
-Probably the only one completely and utterly unafraid to tell Henry his mind
-Will almost certainly go into immigration law or a similar field
-Along with Koh, Henry, and SickSteve, fluent in Korean 
-Has the hots for SickSteve like woah. Talk about slowburn

Ryang
-Slightly nasal voice
-Trans boy
-Art snob hipster. Black and white photos are his fave. He’s actually pretty good but his pretentiousness outweighs it
-Koh tries to gush over his photos but it’s more feeling than words
-Mom is a semi-famous daytime soap star; dad is her former personal trainer. Has an older sister who is a niche underwear model
-Guess who hates paparazzi
-Third generation. Ryang speaks almost no Korean and he’s more than a little sensitive about it 
-Doesn’t fall for Koh nearly as fast as Koh falls for him
-Insecure. His insecurities tend to come out as criticisms of Koh and his intelligence (it scares Ryang that the only guy who’s into him is a dumb foreign guy who barely speaks English. It scares him that Koh accepts him so easily- does he just not understand? Does he think Ryang is something he’s not? -Ryang doesn’t know because his Korean is miles worse than Koh’s English)

Rutherford
-Cryptid and conspiracy theory king.
-Thinks he’s the weird, anxious one but he’s actually kind of unrecognizedly awesome?
-Dirtbikes, skateboards, surfs, probably a sick snowboarder. His sports friends think his cryptid obsession is hilarious. The VC tends to ignore it
-Considers Cheng and Cheng2 his closest friends
-Is under so much pressure to make the family proud. Will end up going to Johns Hopkins and his dad will still think he could do better
-Dad’s (black and white) side of the family is from Georgia/South Carolina area. Mom is Teochew (Chinese) from Singapore. The Singaporean is strong. Rutherford is almost completely fluent in Teochew
-Cheng2’s roommate and conscience

Cheng2

-Friends with everybody
-Except Kavinsky, obvs
-Look, no one is going to like this but I have a headcanon/AU thing where Cheng2 messed around with Prokopenko back when Cheng2 was going to substance parties and racing and that shit did not go good for either of them
-Prone to saying stupid shit
-Has a tendency to speak in a mixture of stupid frat boy, social media star, and SAT vocab list
-When he’s really upset and/or angry, he slips into his native Appalachian (he grew up splitting his time between his bio dad and stepdad in Pigeon Forge and his not bio-dad in BC)
-Mixed Chinese/white. The product of a biracial gay relationship, Cheng2′s bio-dad is white and his not bio-dad is Chinese. They searched a really long time to find the perfect egg donor. Then Cheng2′s bio-dad cheated on his husband when Cheng2 was five and now Cheng2 only sees his not bio-dad during the summer and on holidays. It’s a big story and no one at Aglionby cares (it’s not even close to the biggest amount of family drama to grace the halls, the Lynch clan’s not included)
-Has a massive, completely obvious crush on Henry and a much less obvious crush on literally every other member of the Vancouver crowd. Is somewhat married to Rutherford
-So good at Econ. So good. This boy is going to do great at Berkeley