#[ idk if it would be the same guy but WHATEVER here it is ]

[bucketbueckers]

mess me up - paige bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[orangeocelotmartyn]

idk but there was something so kind about this moment between Bdubs and xB when Bdubs made xB's dog, Bishop, a doghouse

Bdubs: There-- xB: (gasps) Wait. Bdubs: Yes? xB: (goes over to the doghouse) Bdubs: (cheering) Yeah, baby! Yeah, yeah. Yep. xB: (softly) Yeah. Bdubs: Doghouse for Bishop. xB: Nice. Bdubs: We gotta get a-we gotta get a doghouse down here. xB: That's our baby boy. (giggles) Bdubs: That's-that's the baby boy, right? xB: God, I miss that guy. Bdubs: Is that cool, that we gave him a home down here? xB: (sighs heavily) Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. Sorry, it's just-- Bdubs: Yeah. I know, I know. xB: (sounding choked up) It gets things going. (clears throat) Bdubs: I know, yeah, yeah. I know, man, I know, (xB clears his throat again, as if to stop tears) I had, I had a dog for, uh, (Bdubs sniffs) sixteen years? There's no-- xB: Yeah. Bdubs: --there's--it's one of those weird things in life, that's very hard to explain. They-they are--(the sound of a bee coming out of the hive) xB: Oop-- Bdubs: --just as impactful as humans to us, aren't they? Our pets. xB: Oh, yeah. I would say moreso, sometimes. Yeah. Cause-- Bdubs: Moreso, cause they don't do you wrong! xB: it's-it's so... They're so unconditional. Bdubs: I know, I know it. Yeah. So-- xB: Like, what else--you go just out to check the mail, and you come back in and it's like they ain't seen you in twenty years (xB giggles) Bdubs: Exactly! Yeah! And it doesn't matter if you're in a bad mood, or, or whatever-- xB: (at the same time as Bdubs) Right-- Bdubs: cause they are always consistent in the same-- xB: Ooh. (said in surprise, after a bee in Minecraft flies out of a hive towards him) Hello. Bdubs: You have bees as well. Umm. You won't for long. (Bdubs laughs) xB: Oh no, they're going to be (through laughter) gone--off gone somewhere, I'm sure Bdubs: Enjoy them now in this moment, I feel like they add life, you know? xB: Mhm. Bdubs: They come in, and they get some stuff from the azaleas, and stuff like that, but. There's a good chance...they will drown, or something, soon. xB: Oh yeah. They'll do something dumb. (xB giggles) Bdubs: Yeah, yeah. xB: It's...what they do. Bdubs: But, for now--for now, they're here. (Bdubs laughs)

[starlightkun]

finders keepers ⇢ teaser 1

⇢ teaser word count: 1162 | full fic: 37.8k total (22.7k & 15.1k) ⇢ genre: sci-fi/science fantasy au, soulmate au, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, slow burn, fluff and angst ⇢ warnings: blood/injury mentions (but like, alien blood, if that makes a difference?), a couple needle/injection mentions, if u get secondhand embarrassment this one might hurt in places, a couple crude jokes about alien stuff iykwim (reader’s friends r kind of the worst), this fic is just a rlly sweet soulmate au i swear idk why these tags look horrendous 😭 ⇢ extra info: this will be released in two parts bc of tumblr’s 1000-block limit that was put in place to hurt me personally :)) BUT both parts will be released on the same day ⇢ estimated release: saturday, november 30, 2024, 3:00 p.m. eastern time (sign up for my taglist here)

At your building, Johnny and Jaehyun helped you drag the spaceman up to your apartment on the third floor, and you had them deposit him on your bed. Johnny brought his travel vet kit up from the car, and together, you managed to get the shiny silver jacket off of him. Underneath, he had a fairly plain white top, which was also torn and blood-soaked. Johnny snapped on a pair of gloves before he pushed the hem up to appraise the stranger’s side, where there was a huge gash in his flesh.

“Oh, Christ, okay,” Johnny sighed, inspecting the wound. “I guess I’ll disinfect and suture it up?”

“Just do it,” you mumbled, pressing a towel to the man’s sweat-sheened forehead.

“Jaehyun, mind assisting?”

“You do know the ‘Dr.’ I put in front of my name is just decorative, right? It’s in Poetry—”

“And now you can brag to all your colleagues that you’ve done real medicine like a real doctor,” Johnny snapped back. “Disinfectant, get it.”

With Jaehyun assisting him, Johnny made quick work of patching him up. Pressing the bandages down over the site so the adhesive would stick, Johnny then disposed of his navy-splattered gloves. He grabbed a stethoscope, putting the end up against the spaceman’s chest.

“I think he’s alive?” Johnny announced. “I don’t know. If he is, he doesn’t have a heart because I’m not getting anything.”

He shifted the placement, presumably to listen to his breathing, and an even more bewildered look overtook his features. Sliding the stethoscope over to the right side of the man’s chest, he sat there for a moment, just listening.

“It’s on the other side,” he breathed out. “His heart’s on the right side.”

“But he has a heartbeat?” You clarified.

“Yeah, he does. Faint, but it’s there. He’s breathing, too. A bit shallow, but otherwise normal. I think.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else I can do until he wakes up. If he wakes up.”

“Right, thank you Johnny,” you smiled wearily your friend. “I’ll call you when he wakes.”

Jaehyun and Johnny looked at each other skeptically. Jaehyun spoke up, “You’re going to stay here alone with some rando we literally pulled out of a burning hunk of metal?”

“My couch only fits one person. So unless you two are offering to sleep on the floor to protect me or whatever?”

“Call us if anything happens,” Johnny sighed, packing up all of his supplies.

“Of course,” you nodded. “Thanks, guys.”

You heard the sound of your front door clicking shut as you stayed sitting on the edge of your mattress, wiping the spaceman’s face. He really did look human, two eyes that were now shut, lashes resting on his cheeks, a nose practically just like yours, with an elegant slope to the bridge, and a pair of plush, pouty lips.

He let out a soft sigh, his head rolling over towards you. But then he went silent and still again.

You finished cleaning up his face as best you could, then pulled the covers up over him. Readjusting his bangs that had been stuck together by the damp washcloth you’d used, you gave a final determined nod to nobody in particular before standing up. Grabbing a change of pajamas from your dresser, you got everything you’d need from in here for the night, then went to leave.

“Alright…” You stopped at the threshold of your bedroom, looking over the spaceman’s sleeping figure one last time. “Goodnight, I suppose.”

And with that, you turned the lights out, and quietly closed the door behind you. You were sure to leave it slightly ajar, though, just in case. After taking a much-needed shower and getting ready for bed in your bathroom, you headed out to the living room. You set up a few pillows and blankets into a comfy-enough makeshift bed, then tucked yourself in. Despite the exhaustion in your muscles, the excitement of the night hadn’t worn off yet, and you laid awake for another hour just staring at your bedroom door.

Waking up in the morning to sunlight streaming in through your living room windows, you covered your eyes with a groan and rolled over to bury your face in the back cushions. The sound of your phone buzzing incessantly from the coffee table came, however, and with a guttural groan, you flopped back over to pick it up.

“Yeah?” You mumbled, not even checking the caller ID.

“Y/N?” It was Yuta on the other end.

“Who the fuck else would it be? You called me at whenever-the-fuck-in-the-morning.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Couch,” you corrected him, swinging your feet over as you sat up properly. “I slept on the couch.”

“Gave E.T. your bed? Such a kind hostess.”

The mention of your guest woke you up more. You got to your feet, shuffling towards the bedroom with a yawn. “Yeah, you know me, I’m a fuckin’ peach.”

“So how’s the…” Yuta dropped his voice to whisper into the phone, “Alien?”

The door hadn’t moved since last night, and you cautiously pushed it open to peer inside. You could see the stranger exactly where you had left him, laying on his back under your blankets, chest shallowly rising up and down. Pushing further into the room, you hesitated on whether to try to find a pulse again. You settled for trying once around his wrist, and if it didn’t work, then you’d just have to assume he was fine.

Surprisingly, you found his pulse in one go, and it felt steady.

“Fine, I think,” you answered Yuta quietly, walking back over towards your door. “He’s breathing, he has a heartbeat. He’s just not… ambulatory.”

“Still passed out cold?”

“Yeah.”

“Imagine if he was in one of those comas that you don’t wake up from, and we just had to deal with this comatose alien.”

“Stop, you’re going to manifest that or something!” You hissed.

“Not manifesting, just joking.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Anyway, some of us went back to the beach this morning, because Mark really wanted to see the UFO—”

“Don’t touch anything!”

“We couldn’t. The whole place is locked down. Couldn’t even park on the shoulder, it was swarming with cops. They were still putting out the fire.”

“Do you think any of the ship survived?”

“I have no clue. Doyoung said he’d ask his dad about it.”

Doyoung’s dad was the fire chief, making your participation in the conflagration last night even more dicey.

“Tell him to call me as soon as he finds out anything.”

“I think he was already planning on that, but I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good. Also, I’m sorry for kicking you in…” You trailed off as you turned around to see two big brown eyes staring at you from your bed. “I’ve got to go, Yuta. I’ll call you back.”

“What’s hap—”

You hung up.

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@bee-the-loser @ppddpjdr @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[neptunescore]

Still seeing so much shit everywhere abt both charles and carlos, like it's reaching a peak.

I just don't understand why both fanbases are destroying the other, when the only one to blame is the TEAM. ITS FERRARI. THEY ARE THE PROBLEM!!!

I'm not even gonna talk abt the pitting calls, bc that was just one major fuck up after another. However, I will talk abt the absolute shite communication that ferrari had with both drivers that led to whatever war between fans is happening right now.

On one hand, we have ferrari telling Charles that carlos wouldn't overtake him, and on the other, we have ferrari telling carlos not to pressure Charles. Most of you might think it's the exact same thing, but it really isn't guys. In no way did Carlos pressure Charles. Carlos' tyres were 2 laps old. They were heated up. Charles was PARALLEL to Carlos upon pit exit (NOT ahead). Charles had new, cold, dead tyres, all carlos literally had to do was drive arnd him, there was no pressuring.

A lot of ppl are also talking about how the results for ferrari would've been much better if Carlos had let Charles past... yeah no. They wouldn't have. Mercedes was absolutely on fire this week. There was genuinely no way Ferrari could've gotten any better result than a P3 and P4, and telling one driver to give up a podium position just to try and cement your other drivers standing as SECOND place in the drivers standings?? Um... yh that's just in bad taste.

Also, ppl are arguing over the stat they showed that if the team would've just listened to Carlos' requests about pitting earlier, he would've ended ahead of Lewis. Personally, I don't think that would've happened, BUT I do believe there would've been a much larger chance of Carlos and Charles being closer to the Merc if Ferrari had just LISTENED to their drivers.

And abt this radio msg:

I honestly don't think Charles was even talking abt Carlos here, this is just him talking abt the team. I feel Charles has ALWAYS blindly trusted the team, done whatever they told him to do. Then we have Carlos, he argues back. Tells the team what he thinks would be better. Ignores orders sometimes to do what he thinks would be better, and it ALWAYS is better. This is Charles being over it, and I'm glad. I'm glad he's over it. Ferrari need to get their heads out of their asses and listen to their drivers because it is reaching a point.

Sidenote:

This radio msg mad me laugh so hard (literally as a carlos fan), idk why y'all are talking abt how it's XENOPHOBIC??? LMFAOOO that's a MAD reach. Carlos is literally a slightly tanned European man BWAHAHAHAH, as a POC I feel slightly mad abt all of u losing ur ahit over this yet when it comes to injustices done to ACTUAL POC drivers, everyone stays silent?? Yh shut up.

I feel u guys forget that this is a competitive sport where drivers are filled to the brim with adrenaline, ofc Charles is gonna make some comments when things don't go the way he thinks they will.

Anywayyy, that's my rant done. Just had to get all this shit out. Even if none of this is true or what acc happend I still stand with my drivers rights and wrongs, so Carlos my pookie dw I love you ur so real.

[sticks-stones-sonic-insanity]

Ok idk how plausible this is but like. Just considering the possibility. Let's think about it for a second.

Shadow has Chaos Island on his register for Shadow Generations. In a more meta explanation, we know its because Chaos Island was the least utilised location in Sonic Frontiers: most of its platforming was 2D, and the more interesting locations that players wanted to travel to were either unreachable or off in the distance as set design. Among other things. Shadow himself hadn't actually been there, but he hadn't clocked that since the game's story took place at the same time as 2011 Generations did.

Gerald's explanation for its, as well as that of Sunset Heights' existence in white space was that the Time Eater (or Black Doom?? Idk they don't really make it clear who's controlling what) was pulling from locations in Shadow's FUTURE as well as his past, so some locations that were present were for a future Shadow to experience instead.

Is it at all possible... that maybe we haven't seen that version of Shadow either? Is it possible that Shadow is among a cast who return to Starfall Islands in a Sonic game further into the future than what we know about?

I don't have much to back this, and I'm cool with that. It's just an interesting idea to think about.

The plot of Sonic Frontiers is fairly linear, but the primary story beats within the characters held a very clear message about change. Change, progression, and wanting to move on to become something more than what they believed themselves to be. Amy wants to explore the world and find more places to share her passion and love with others. Knuckles wants to push himself to leave Angel Island and have a life outside of his role as the Guardian of the Master Emerald. Tails wants to be more independent, and spend time honing his skills without Sonic to fall back on when he's in trouble. Sonic is notably excluded from this common desire to change, but they don't touch much on his reaction to this information and he's primarily there to spurr on their motivation anyways. I have my own feelings about Sonic himself in Frontiers, but it's not super important to go into here. Point is, the characters here are looking for growth. An opportunity to give to themselves room for change.

Shadow did much of the same in Shadow Generations, but Gerald's dialogue about his motivation in life being stagnant after he and Maria move on is a nod to the idea that Shadow is very much not done on the development front.

He's let go of his past, and has a drive to keep moving forward in honour of it.

Now what?

I'm not sure how, or when, or if it could happen, but I think it would be interesting for Shadow to find that same kind of time for introspection as (three of) the core 4 did on the Starfall Islands. Frontiers had that softer, more serious tone to it that Shadow's change in attitude would benefit from. His half of generations was able to match that tone, since he made most of the journey on his own. Anyone who interacted with him brought an atmosphere that fit the individual cutscene.

What kind of conclusion could he come to, given the time to think about it? Who would be at his side to help him voice his thoughts?

Does Shadow know what he wants in his life? If not to Maria, where will he look to find the answer to that question?

All of this speculation is mostly shot down by the fact that this game occurs that little bit too far back in the timeline for these things to line up, but I still wanted to consider it. Its interesting to think about, and I've been having fun trying to guess what Sega has in store for these little guys. Whatever comes next, I hope it's got the same love and care in it that went into Shadow Generations, because that way we know we'll be in for something good. Lmk what you think!

[djevelbl]

Alright, so, final thoughts, the short version: gET ON WITH THE NEXT SEASON, CHOP CHOP STORY BOY--

Seriously tho, GREAT story — there's something about it that has made me go existential crisis levels of poetic over it that NOTHING ELSE has made me go which like. props to Evbo, he's doing great! I WILL be going feral over that ending and Parrot and that Clown cameo and Zam and all things I liked and so on so forth, like always. I wanna make character designs but it feels... wrong, I guess, in a sense to give them all designs beyond the cubic space they inhabit — I don't do well with simple and detail-free designs (like Zam's and Wemmbu's like seriously, 5 year old in paint level of detail smh /aff) and I believe that giving them ANY amount of detail they don't already have is doing their characters a disservice?? ESPECIALLY with clothes???? Idk how to say it or explain it, but the fact they don't wear armor is VERY intentional, right? I mean, PVP typically involves armor and the fact that acquiring armor is OPTIONAL is intentional for whatever reason so, again, in my head giving them any more detail than they have (or lack I say as I side-eye Zam and Wemmbu) is a disservice to how PVP Civilization works. But that's honestly just me

More spoiler-y territory up ahead, gonna put in one of those good ol' "click here for more!" thingamabobs that tumblr has. Don't say you weren't warned.

Alright, now that all the cool kids are here, let's discuss details:

When I say I went "existential crisis levels of poetic" over this thing, I mean "I wrote a whole thing about being a spectator willing and wanting to help, but unable to due to the nature of being in different levels of reality" type shit, might drop it on my ao3 (y'all should go by my ao3 i have fun stuff there and might start dropping some other stuff as well wink wink ok. self promo over) and it was honestly fun! Will DEFINITELY do some MORE of that around this new episode! Unironically frothing at the mouth waiting for a new season to start slowly being drop-fed to us like little fish being thrown those fish food chip things idk I'm too drunk to think (not really. but it's fun to say anyway)

I LOVED Zam but tbf I've been loving that motherfucking asshole bastard /aff this WHOLE TIME so like. nothing new lmaooo. I ALSO love Clown's little cameo! (not counting it as a SPOILER spoiler cuz like. it's 2 mins or so in. I won't count that shit as spoilers c'mon) but uh. ALSO nothing new lol I'm a HARDCORE (not really) Clown fan I WILL be bought and EASILY swayed over with the promise of Clown content, I'm REALLY that easy; anyway it was really fun and OFC he's an antagonist smh — he's either a bad guy protagonist or an antagonist, NEVER on the same side as the protagonist/a good guy who DOESN'T wanna murder ppl (I see what kinda theater kid he is. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE MR. CLOWN. YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME)

I said it already but I'll say it again: Tabi had ALWAYS been fucking sus to me from the start, what with being SO AT THE READY to exploit Evbo's respawning ability for her own gain and all that, so her backstabbing him ain't a surprise to me; but what someone (I'm too lazy to get to the computer to give proper credits or quoting. y'all are gonna have to make do with paraphrasing) said in the comments is actually fucking interesting: Evbo respawned; after the cut to black Tabi is seen holding her diamond axe and while that serves to show the audience what she was really born as, it could very well also show that Tabi gave Evbo a mercy — she let him respawn. She — potentially — didn't kill him with The Eternal Sword, and instead delivered the final blow with her diamond axe: an object that would allow Evbo to come back from death. She's gone soft.

That's gonna be her downfall, one way or another. Clown was right in doubting her — while she's physically strong and knows all the techniques, she's not detached enough from her emotions that she's fully capable of pretending to form friendships without actually making friends; aka: she can pretend she doesn't care, but something deep inside of her does care what happens to Evbo. Until proven otherwise I'll take this scene as bEING RIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS, I READ TABI LIKE A FUCKING BOOK LET'S GO--

So all in all I'm gonna be OBSESSED over this for the next while — well done Evbo, well fucking done

The end to the story. whatever happens, I guess it happened — I have hopes, idk where they're placed or what they mean, but I have them.

Whatever happens, I know Evbo is going out with a bang.

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

It's missing my father hours rn so imma just dump a bunch of pictures here and cry

( sorry i don't know the source of anything I just had them on my phone)

(also dont read the tags i just need to let it out lol)

[silkjade]

i haven’t been here much recently, and i’m sorry i’ve only been negative on the off chance i’ve been online, but let me just say one last piece before the end of this month, so that maybe the next might be better….

[idolbound]

Joining The Grey Wardens

Meredith 'Thorne', Your history cannot be evaded; those of us who were there know what you did. The terror you held as you ruled over Kirkwall's mages with an iron fist of fear and punishment was not a necessary measure, but a cruelty. You will serve the Grey Wardens with honour and duty, willing to fight against the Darkspawn until your dying breath - or the Calling, whichever comes first. You lived as a Templar all of your life; I expect you understand nothing more than duty first. It is no pleasure to accept you into our ranks, though you are not the only troubled soul with a bloodstained past to have joined us. I trust you will serve us without question, though I imagine this is as much a last resort for you, as it is a means for redemption. Go forth and be brave in these unprecedented times. - From First Warden Glastrum

As long-standing Knight-Commander, the fateful day that the Chantry was brought to the ground, set forth the spark that would lead to the deaths of most of the mages in the city of Kirkwall, including the Circle's own First Enchanter Orsino, and set the fire of the templar-mage rebellion across Southern Thedas.

Meredith Stannard's long-standing paranoia had ruled the Gallows with an iron first and a blind eye to injustice; her choice to seek out a cursed, blight red lyrium idol in the pursuit of power would lead to her very downfall. As Kirkwall's Champion, Hawke sought to stop Meredith from further destruction, and in calling upon the Maker as His most humble servant, the idol erupted from sheer force, shattering into hundreds of pieces in her face, severely injuring Kirkwall's de facto Viscount. While still alive to face justice, Hawke made a decision to strip Meredith of her titles and to send her into exile out of the city, caring little for where she wound end up or even if she lived.

For three years, Meredith hid herself, struggling through the effects of lyrium withdrawal after spending 30 years addicted to the substance; while she was able to find some here and there, most of her time was spent as a vagrant, trying to survive the horrific effects, surviving with disfiguring scars and gaunt cheeks. While still competent with a blade, she was made weak with no lyrium to supply the templar's magical suppression. For the years of the Inquisition, Meredith thought to find a way to redeem herself, but finding out Cullen Rutherford was in command of its armies, she doubted she could cross its gates (though, perhaps, in another life, she could've).

Desperate, reliant on hunting for food or begging for scraps in small rural towns, Meredith sought one last resort: The Grey Wardens. Known to take in all who were willing - including those with horrific pasts - Meredith sought out a local Senior Warden under a false surname. While certainly aware of who she was, given the events that had transpired, and led to the issues within the southern Warden Order, she was told to write the First Warden. While the response was not warm, it was not a rejection. And so, by 9:42 Dragon, shortly after the Orlesian Wardens were found to have been controlled by the venetori, Meredith became a Grey Warden at Weisshaupt in the southern Anderfels, somehow surviving her joining at the age of 50. While her background enabled an easier training, learning to fight amongst fellow soldiers with a new enemy in Darkspawn was a different approach than what had been expected as a templar against mages.

For years, Meredith learned to fight again; while she had survived lyrium withdrawal, the opportunity arose to retake it from the supply given to Warden mages. While hesitant, it was debated among her commanders that a templar's magical suppression could be useful, and gradually, she too reacclimated to its effects, and like old skills, they returned easily. Classed as both a trained sword and Templar, Meredith rose from recruit to an established Warden in a mere few years.

By 9:53 Dragon, as a Senior Warden at age 61, rumours are heard about blight returning once again, and the Wardens are called into action, with Meredith among them sent into the fray...

[slightlytoastedbagel]

see I have theories in regards to What The Fuck Is Wrong With Whit Young but they aren't the ones involving him being the mastermind or traitor. they're to do with whatever is going on with his mother

[demonbarberofbeepbeep]

not sweeney todd but i'm just realizing how much i love the musical trope of a puckish political radical narrator mockingly describing the events around the female main character's life

[moe-broey]

Sketch I accidentally put too close between other doodles

[talkorsomething]

I have Got to get more transgender

[frecklystars]

I love that all of my friends who have watched Crazy Stupid Love with me will point at Ryan Gosling's character and say "ohhh I see why you like him... he's like your other F/O, Barney Stinson :) except he kinda respects women a little bit more" and I'm like... what. oh... huh.

I see.

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[devilsskettle]

i feel like i’ve been WAITING for the other shoe to drop wrt people’s opinions about watcher for this very reason. not that i think the reaction is completely not understandable but the greater the parasocial relationship, the greater the fallout as soon as public opinion shifts. you don’t have a relationship with these people they’re just content creators, chill