#such potential

[nerdpoe]

the fic wasn't tagged properly

[knine-nights-loves-ac]

I know we don’t have almost any canonical information on Desmond’s bartending skills but I will always believe he was really good at it.

First of all, you don’t do that kind of thing every single day for years on end and not develop some skills.

Second of all, the only one saying he’s bad is Shaun and I do not trust his opinion on bartenders. He gives off the vibes of someone who would judge every single person in a club regardless of how skilled they are. And also his opinion on Desmond is incredibly biased too.

And third of all, it’s more impactful this way. He learned some skill, something that set him apart and brought him positive attention, that had absolutely nothing to do with the Assassins. He had something that was just him. And it makes it hurt so much more to imagine his dream of returning to that life becoming dimmer and more fragile as the games go on until he finally loses all hope for it.

[alltimecharlo]

yk how there's the "coaches daughter" trope in hockey romances? all this "type of guy you want to marry your daughter" stuff makes me want a coaches son fic

ooo yes!! very interesting au hehe 🩵 fic under the cut!!

Mack first notices Will the same way everyone on the team does: around the periphery. Quiet, casual, always dressed like he walked out of a damn Levi’s ad. He’s usually perched up in the stands during practice or hovering near the boards in warmups, talking to the trainers, or skating a few lazy circles before the team starts for real.

He’s Coach’s kid, and Mack finds that infinitely terrifying.

It’s not like Will does anything to make him nervous. He’s… friendly. Charming, even. Always the one to say hi first, always teasing someone in that effortless, too-cool way, like he’s never had to try to fit in but just naturally does. He’s clearly around a lot. But not in a nepo-baby kind of way. He doesn’t flaunt that he’s the coach’s son. He talks to the rookies like Mack and the vets like Couture with the same casual ease. He knows the sport, obviously, but he seems to love it more as a fan than anything else. Still, Mack’s always hyper-aware of him.

Because Will is pretty. Like, distractingly pretty. Loose golden curls and a sharp, clever mouth, his smile somehow sweet and wicked at the same time. Mack has a hard enough time not being weird around new people, but when it’s someone who’s effortlessly cool and happens to be the son of the guy who controls Mack’s ice time? Yeah, no thank you.

So he does the safe thing: keeps his head down, focuses on hockey. Doesn’t linger when Will’s talking to someone else, doesn’t hang around long enough for conversation. When Will says, “Hey, you wanna grab a coffee after practice?” Mack smiles politely and says, “Maybe another time.”

And then another time comes, and he says the same thing.

He tells himself it’s the right call. He’s new. He has to prove himself. The last thing he needs is to get wrapped up in something complicated. Even if Will’s eyes sparkle when he grins, even if he always seems a little disappointed when Mack says no.

Then one day, after practice, Coach calls Mack into his office. Mack’s immediately nervous, trying to remember if he messed up a drill, forgot something in video. He sits stiffly in the chair across from Coach’s desk.

“Relax, Mack,” Coach says, amused. “You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure,” Mack says, cautiously.

Coach leans back in his chair, crosses his arms. “When are you going to go out with my son?”

Mack blinks. “…What?”

Coach chuckles. “Look, I know Will’s been trying to hang out with you. And I know you keep turning him down. But he’s starting to get all sulky about it. And I like you, Mack. You’re a good kid. The kind of guy you want your son dating. To marry. So—what’s the holdup?”

Mack’s brain short-circuits. “I—I just didn’t want to, you know, cross a line or—”

Coach waves him off. “Mack, I’m his dad, not his warden. If he likes you, and you like him—which, I mean, it’s obvious—then stop overthinking it.”

Mack leaves the office feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. A nice, permission-giving truck.

So the next time Will’s at practice, Mack tries not to stare too long. He does anyway. And when Will comes over afterward, same as always, bright-eyed and warm, and says, “Hey, you wanna grab something to eat? No pressure, just… hang out?”

Mack says yes.

Will blinks. “Wait. Seriously?”

Mack shrugs, trying to act casual, like his heart isn’t beating out of his chest. “Yeah. Why not?”

And Will breaks into a grin so wide and delighted that it makes Mack’s stomach flip over.

“Great. Okay,” Will says, all determined. “You’re not gonna regret it.”

And the thing is—Mack already doesn’t.

♡

[makorragal-312]

My prediction for Buck's storyline in "Masks:"

He tries to put up some string lights in his apartment, but ends up getting tangled in them and ends up hanging upside down, so he has to call Eddie and they spend most of the episode trying to detangle Buck from the lights...

...and they end up almost sharing a "Spider-Man" kiss.

[jimjammio]

Mobius is all of us.

[eosphoroz]

Lestat at the start of any of his books: "I am the Vampire Lestat. I am a six-feet-tall SAINT. Everyone loves me and the ones who claim they don't are liars. Shut up, you know you love me."

Armand at the start of his: "I don't like sharing, but I'll do it because you don't really matter and I'm unhinged. Don't look at me while I talk. I'll pluck your eyes out if you do."

[kanerallels]

Kanera + Wild West AU

(One of the only AUs I ever made for them!)

That is honestly such an IMMACULATE vibe and I love the concept of it! Here's my take:

Dusting off his hands, Kanan surveyed the wreckage of the bar with what was probably too much satisfaction. Still, there was nothing like a good bar fight— not that he’d admit that to Sabine, since he was supposed to be encouraging her to stop causing problems like this. 

There was a click behind him, and Kanan’s blood ran cold. He knew the sound of a pistol being cocked— and he knew he didn’t have enough time to stop the man behind him. Really? After everything, this is it? He thought with a twinge of annoyance, of all things.

And then there was a crash and a cut off yelp, and Kanan found himself surprisingly not dead. He spun around to see the man with the gun on the floor, surrounded by the shattered pieces of a barstool. Standing over him was a woman with piercing green eyes and dark skin. Her hair was twisted back into braids, and she wore a simple shirt and divided skirt, nothing fancy. That did nothing to detract from her beauty, however, and the fact she was clearly the one who’d just saved his life definitely added to that.

Kanan was opening his mouth to thank her (and possibly say something charming. It had been a while since he had flirted, so he was a little rusty, but he figured he’d give it a shot) but she spoke first. “You’re Mr. Jarrus, the hired gun?”

And that voice… it was warm sunshine on a chilly day and the first chords of a piano in a church. It was the singing of the birds when you’re out on a ride and the day is beautiful and everything seems just about perfect, and Kanan was pretty sure he had just fallen in love.

Realizing that he was staring, he hastily shut his mouth and said, “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“Good,” the woman said briskly. “I’m Hera Syndulla, and I have a business proposition for you.”

“Well, then we’d better talk,” Kanan said, glancing around for an undestroyed table. Though if he was being really honest, he already had a feeling he’d follow this woman wherever she wanted to go.