#He also has to hope they never find out what it actually is

[doeeyeseddie]

Piaaaaaa "brushing their arm against the other's, hoping the other would finally catch their arm and hold it close" please, we already know they constantly brush arms anyway!

fridaaaa this took me, once again, many months to get to and i sort of only vaguely filled the actual prompt, but i hope you still enjoy it <3

5+1 things, rated t, wc: 4k

[read on ao3]

I.

Eddie’s first day as a probationary firefighter is…interesting. Captain Nash welcomes him with the same warm smile he gave him the first time they talked, then leads him inside and shows him around the app bay.

“We’ll give you the full tour later,” he promises, “after you’ve met the rest of the team. You’re the first one here, if you want, you can change into your uniform now.”

He points towards the locker room – which has glass walls for some reason – and Eddie nods.

He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when Captain Nash ushers a group of firefighters inside. Eddie runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s tidy and smiles as Hen and Chimney introduce themselves to him with warm smiles and handshakes, welcoming him to the team.

There’s a third person with them, hovering in the background and glowering at Eddie. He’s young, probably around Eddie’s age, tall and very built, and despite his hostile expression, he doesn’t give Eddie the impression of being an asshole. It’s like the expression doesn’t fit on his face, like he’s not used to wearing it.

Chim grabs him by the arm and pushes him forward, giving Eddie a commiserating smile.

“And this guy is Buck,” he says. “He was our probie before you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie says politely, stretching a hand out to offer a handshake. “You’ll have to show me how things work around here, then.”

Buck glowers down at his hand, and when he finally grabs it, he squeezes it too tightly, like he’s trying to prove something. Eddie squeezes back, amused by the pretense this guy is clearly putting on.

Behind Buck’s back, Hen rolls her eyes, but she’s also wearing a fond look, which only confirms Eddie’s assumption that Buck isn’t half as bad as he’s pretending to be.

From Captain Nash, he knows that they’re supposed to work together a lot of the time, so that’s gonna be interesting. He doesn’t know why Buck is acting like this, but he’s gonna find out, and then he’s gonna figure out a way to work with Buck anyway.

He didn’t come here to make friends, but he’ll be spending 50 hours a week with these people, and he has to trust them with his life for a lot of that time, so they at the very least need to bury whatever hatchet Buck is carrying right now.

Eddie lets go of his hand with a nod and a polite smile, and gives himself a week to figure Buck out.

II.

The days between the accident and the funeral are kind of a blur.

There’s too much to do and think about, too many decisions to make, too many people to call, too much to organize. He has help – Abuela, Pepa, the entire 118, but it still feels too much.

Shannon was 27, she didn’t have a will, they never talked about any of this. How is Eddie supposed to know how she would like to be buried, or if she’d rather be cremated? What kind of music she would want them to play at her funeral? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for a very, very long time.

But it did happen, and now Eddie is somehow supposed to know all this about her, his wife, the woman he’s only just let back into his and Christopher’s lives, the woman who asked him for a divorce and completely pulled the rug from under his feet just a day before she died.

Sometimes, he feels like he didn’t know her at all.

His parents are here “to help”, which should be a relief but really isn’t. They never liked Shannon and aren’t making a secret of it, even now that– now that she’s gone. So Eddie can’t involve them in the funeral planning, and he can’t even leave Christopher with them because he’s scared that they’re gonna take the opportunity to grab him and run, and someone needs to make sure that Shannon’s memory is honored, but she didn’t have any family except him and Christopher, and Chris is seven, so Eddie has to be the one to make this funeral beautiful, something she’d deserve, but he doesn’t know– there’s so much–

“Eddie,” someone says next to him, snapping him out of his spiral. “Come on, breathe with me.”

Eddie stares at Buck’s chest as it rises and falls with exaggerated breaths, trying to match him. When did Buck get here? He doesn’t remember letting him in, doesn’t really remember what he was doing before he started hyperventilating on his couch.

“Chris,” he gasps when he realizes that also means he’s not sure where his kid is. And of course he’s the kind of father who would do that only days after his kid lost his mom, maybe his parents are–

“Is with Hen and Karen,” Buck says firmly, grabbing his forearm. “He’s gonna spend the day with them and Denny, probably getting spoiled rotten. I borrowed Pepa’s key when we went over there so they could pick him up, she told me you might not open – sorry for barging in here, but I’m glad I did. I know you– I wanted to– Bobby and Athena are running interference with your parents. And I’m here to help you with all that.” He gestures towards the couch table that’s covered in forms, leaflets from funeral homes, and cards from grief counselors. “After Abby’s mom– I helped plan her funeral. So I’ve got some experience.”

Eddie just stares at him, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from crying. He trusts Buck, but he still doesn’t want to cry in front of him, doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone. But he does think that maybe he should give Buck his own copy of a key, so he won’t have to borrow Pepa’s next time.

Buck squeezes his forearm and gives him a small, sad smile. “We’re all here for you, Eddie. I got your back, remember?”

Eddie blinks against the tears in his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat that’s keeping him from saying anything.

Instead, he twists his arm from Buck’s grip and grabs his hand instead, squeezing it in a silent thank you.

Buck squeezes back and keeps holding on.

III.

Buck gets to go home earlier than anyone expected, but Eddie has been to his new apartment, so he isn’t surprised when Buck texts him a picture of his couch with a sad face. It’s not ideal, but at least he has a bathroom downstairs and a girlfriend who can help if he struggles with anything.

Until he doesn’t have that girlfriend anymore.

Eddie doesn’t find out until after his shield ceremony, days after, actually, once his parents have finally gone home to Texas.

Buck says he’s fine, obviously, but Eddie starts going over every day he doesn’t have a shift anyway, because he knows Buck and can see how much he’s struggling with the whole situation, with the uncertainty of when and how he can return to work.

He brings Christopher most of the time. They’re not having the best summer either, Eddie still worries that he’s not doing enough to help Christopher deal with his grief, when he can barely keep his own head above the water of grief, guilt and fear.

Carla is doing what she can, watching Christopher whenever Eddie’s working, she found him a grief counselor and is even looking into more permanent therapists.

None of it changes the fact that they’re grieving. 

But when Christopher gets to hang out with Buck, he lights up every time, and so does Buck, which makes this a two birds with one stone kind of situation. Hanging out with Buck helps them both, too, makes their grief not the first thing on their minds for a little while.

Buck can’t move much, so they play board games and try to find one they all enjoy equally – it’s not easy, since Eddie likes luck-based games (he plays poker with his abuela and tía whenever he can), Buck prefers trivia and games relying on knowledge, while Christopher likes strategic games most.

But everyone gets to pick sometimes, and when they don’t want to play board games, they switch to video games instead.

Eddie knew that Buck and Chris get along well, they have ever since the first time they met, when Buck drove Eddie to Chris’ school after the earthquake during Eddie’s second week at the 118. But with how much time the three of them are spending together now, he can see them growing closer every day – and he loves it.

Buck is his best friend, and he genuinely cares about Christopher in a way that feels completely independent from Eddie.

One evening, while they’re playing a few rounds of Christopher’s current favorite video game after dinner, the kid falls asleep between them on the couch.

Buck smiles down at him and lowers the volume of the TV, which means he loses even more clearly to Eddie, but he had the win in the bag anyway, he’s sure.

Buck rolls his eyes at him when Eddie celebrates his victory with big, silent gestures, but he’s smiling, too.

Eddie grins at him, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind Chris, and Buck twists a little to face him. His leg, resting outstretched on the couch table in front of them, moves with him, and Eddie slides Christopher’s glass of water out of the way in a practiced move.

“I know you’re here to keep an eye on me,” Buck says, “and I should probably be annoyed. I– I was kind of annoyed, at first. But it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s here, right?” He nods down at Christopher. “And I guess you’re okay, too.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie says, but he knows his glare isn’t convincing. “To be clear, we’re all keeping an eye on each other.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, still on the backrest between them, and squeezes it – just for a moment, like he’s trying to get Eddie’s attention, like he doesn’t already have it anyway. “Thanks.”

IV.

Everything sucks.

It’s the uncertainty that gets to Eddie most, the not knowing how to help, how to stay safe, how to keep his loved ones safe. How long this is gonna last.

Every day, they have to see people die from a virus they know nothing about, and can’t do anything against.

And afterwards, they can’t even go home.

Christopher is part of a high risk group, and Eddie risks exposure at work every day, so obviously, he can’t endanger him by living with him. Chimney feels the same way about Maddie, and Hen also wants to keep her family safe, which is how the three of them ended up at Buck’s apartment, where they’ve been camped out for the past three weeks.

It’s generous of Buck to let them all stay with him, but the loft is not made for four people to live there, and they’re all feeling it.

Eddie loves his friends, but spending every minute of every day with them is starting to wear on him. They all try to give each other space, using the balcony as an extra room or going for runs outside, but there’s only so much they can do. 

He hates being separated from Chris, it makes him feel like he’s breaking his promise to never leave him behind again. Christopher says he understands, but Eddie worries anyway. He trusts Pepa, who’s working fully remote and offered to stay with Chris, and they talk every day, but it’s not the same as being there.

Whenever he talks to Chris on the phone, he feels better in the moment, but worse the second they hang up. While they’re talking, he can almost pretend that things are normal, but it all comes crashing down afterwards.

He hasn’t hugged his son in weeks, and he has no idea when he’s even gonna see him in person again.

Buck joins their calls most of the time, at least for a few minutes, and he sits next to Eddie on the bed now, shoulders slumped where they’re touching Eddie’s. In a world where he has to keep his distance from almost everyone, except the patients he’s treating and the people he’s living with, touching and being touched by Buck is a real comfort.

“This won’t be forever, Eddie,” he says, almost desperately. 

“But for how long?” Eddie asks, and it comes out sounding a little wobbly.

He’s not embarrassed by it anymore – Buck’s seen him in all kinds of situations, and they’re currently sharing a bed, so he’s seen him cry anyway.

“I–I wish I knew,” Buck says. “I wish I could– fix this.”

Eddie wipes at his eye and laughs a little. “The whole pandemic?”

“If I could, yeah.” Buck shrugs.

Eddie presses even closer to him for a moment, a gentle pressure of their shoulders, arms and thighs against each other. “I wish you could, too. But even if you can’t – I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” Buck smiles at him and places his hand on Eddie’s thigh, palm up.

Eddie smiles back and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight – you ready?”

“Ready when you are,” Buck says, but he doesn’t let go until Eddie does.

V.

After Chris has gone to sleep, after Eddie has finally stopped crying, after Buck has wrapped his knuckles and cleaned up the worst of the mess in Eddie’s bedroom – the shards, the pieces of drywall, the fallen furniture, he makes up the couch for Eddie to sleep on. Eddie wants to help him, to tell him that he’ll just sleep in his room, but he can’t seem to move from his seat at the dining table.

Everything feels like too much, his hands hurt and his head worse, and he can’t stand the thought of Buck leaving. He’s exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep if Buck goes home now.

But he can’t ask him to stay, not after Buck already dropped everything because Eddie couldn’t keep it together. He probably had plans, and Eddie ruined those too.

He can already feel the hot burn of tears behind his eyes again and drops his forehead onto his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

Buck’s hand lands on his back, warm, then travels up to squeeze the back of his neck gently.

“You ready to sleep?” he murmurs, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. “Come on, you must be exhausted.”

Eddie shrugs and Buck’s thumb brushes along his hairline.

“You don’t have to go in there, I can get you anything you need,” Buck says quietly. “And I’ll be right next to you in case you have a nightmare.”

“You’re staying?” Eddie asks, lifting his head. Buck’s hand stays where it is.

“Of course, Eddie,” Buck says, like it’s that easy.

And maybe it is that easy, Eddie thinks when they settle in next to each other in the living room, Eddie on the couch and Buck on a makeshift bed next to it. He’s pushed the couch table to the side to make room for it and it looks like he’s dragged Eddie’s mattress here, so at least Eddie doesn’t need to worry about him sleeping on the floor.

They’ve been by each other’s side through so much shit, maybe it’s not such a surprise that Buck wants to be here now too. He’s just not sure he deserves it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Buck. “You had plans– I’m sure you didn’t want to–”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Buck says firmly. “Of course I’ll come whenever Christopher calls. O–or if you need me. I’m here, okay?”

“I keep thinking about her,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning eyes. “Mills. Last August– I should’ve– if I’d picked up the phone earlier–”

“This isn’t on you.” There’s rustling and then Buck is gripping Eddie’s forearms, trying to gently pull his hands away from his face. “I d-don’t know what Mills was going through, but I know that you couldn’t have known how bad it was. It’s sad, and it’s unfair, but it’s not your fault. And I know you’re feeling all these things now, but Eddie– I’m so happy you’re still here. I need you to– know that. Okay?”

Eddie finally lowers his arms, but instead of letting go fully, Buck just grabs his right hand and holds on. His eyes are wide and scared, and Eddie has scared too many people he loves tonight.

“Okay,” he says, even though– well. What makes him special? Why should he be the only one to get out? He’s not a better person than any of them, he doesn’t have a right to happiness or whatever he’s been deluding himself into believing he could have. 

But he knows that he can’t tell Buck that now (or ever), knows that it’s a dark road to go down.

Maybe for tonight, with Buck by his side, he can keep the thoughts at bay for a little bit longer. After that– he has no idea. But Buck is still holding his hand, and Eddie may not deserve him, but he trusts him.

He thinks it may just give him enough hope to get through this night.

+ I

“This was nice,” Buck says, holding the door for Eddie as they leave the restaurant. “You, uh, you really didn’t have to pay, though.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie says with a smile, glancing right towards their cars and then left to where the beach is only a short walk away, and finally back to Buck’s face, finding him already looking back. “How do you feel about taking a walk?”

Buck grins, turning left. “Let’s go.”

They’re not on a date, or at least they haven’t called it that, but Eddie has been thinking that it feels like one all night. Technically, they’re two friends trying out a new restaurant together. They drove here separately, no one pulled anyone’s chair out, they talked the same way they always do.

But Eddie spent half an hour picking something to wear tonight, Buck is wearing a shirt that looks new and gorgeous and fit for a date, and every time their eyes caught across the table, Eddie thought that maybe, Buck wouldn’t pull away if he reached out and took his hand.

It’s not the first time Eddie has thought that. Ever since Buck and Tommy broke up, it’s felt like maybe they’re heading towards something, familiar touches lingering and turning into something new, gazes catching and then holding instead of looking away.

Buck was upset for a little while afterwards, but he admitted to Eddie that it was more about another failed relationship – and his first one with a man, after he thought he’d finally figured out what was missing, than about Tommy as a person.

He went on a couple of dates, with men and women, but nothing ever stuck.

Eddie was going through his own stuff at the time – he eventually came out to Buck a week before Chris finally came home, and Buck hasn’t been on a date since.

Sometimes, Eddie wonders (hopes), if the two things are related.

Still, neither of them has called tonight a date – yet.

Eddie glances at Buck’s profile while they’re walking, and wonders what he’s waiting for.

Yes, it’s scary because Buck is the most important person in his life right after Christopher, but it’s also not, because this is Buck. Who has been by Eddie’s side through the worst, most painful, most humiliating times of his life, and is still here. Buck, who Eddie trusts with his life, and his son, and his heart.

Buck smiles at him and Eddie smiles back, heartbeat picking up. He’s doing this, he’s gonna tell Buck how he feels. Any minute now, he’s gonna be brave enough.

“Hey,” Buck says, “it’s just me.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and his heart thumps against his ribs. He lets his fingers brush against Buck’s on their next swing and watches as Buck bites his lip, smiling down at the ground. Hushed, like a confession, he adds, “Are you nervous, too?”

Buck looks back up at him then, eyes glittering in the dark. “Y-yeah. I am.”

They’ve reached the edge of the beach by now and bend down to take off their shoes without having to talk about it.

When they start walking again, they’re even closer than before, the backs of their hands, their elbows and shoulders all brushing with every step.

Eddie keeps stealing glances at Buck, and almost every time, Buck is already looking back.

There aren’t many people at the beach at this time of day, so they don’t come close to anyone else, and all they hear is the sand beneath their feet and the waves crashing a few feet away. The moon is big enough to be reflected on the sea, a beautiful sight, but Eddie still can’t look away from Buck for long.

“So, this is, uh, kind of romantic,” Buck blurts out after a few quiet minutes. “Right? I–I’m not misreading that?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I mean– you’re not misreading it.”

“But you’re nervous.”

When their knuckles brush again, Eddie stretches out his fingers and catches Buck’s, holding on. Buck’s own fingers tighten immediately, and it gives Eddie the last bit of courage he needs.

“Well, yeah. Buck–” He stops walking, and Buck follows, turning so he’s facing Eddie. He’s close enough that Eddie can see his expression despite the dark, and he looks terrified, hopeful, nervous and excited at the same time, all of which Eddie feels, too. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous because– nothing…no one’s ever been this important.”

A smile spreads out across Buck’s face, slowly deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “So this was a date?”

“Did it feel like one to you, too?”

Buck’s smile widens. “Yeah, i–it did. And I’m–I’m nervous too, of course. Eddie, if we do this, there’s no going back for me. I can’t– lose you. You and Christopher, you’re too important.”

He pulls on Eddie’s hand a little, and Eddie takes another step closer, drops his shoes in the sand and places his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting against his collarbone.

“It’s the same for me,” he says quietly. He shivers when Buck grabs his waist, the warmth of his hand seeping through Eddie’s shirt. “I– We don’t know what’s gonna happen. But, Buck– I love you. I love you so much, I have for…way longer than I was aware of it, and I just don’t see that going away. And I don’t think it’s fair to us to deny ourselves when I really think we could make each other– so happy. I know I can make you happy, and I want to prove it to you every day of my life, Buck.”

Buck is just staring at him with a dazed expression, his lips slightly parted, and Eddie suddenly can’t stand not kissing him for a second longer.

He slides his hand from Buck’s shoulder to the back of his neck, watches Buck’s eyes flutter shut and feels his fingers tighten on his waist, and then he’s finally, finally closing the distance between them.

Buck makes a soft sound against his mouth, like he’s still somehow surprised this is happening, but he gets on board very quickly, and Eddie stops thinking entirely.

When they pull back breathlessly, Eddie’s hair is a mess – he can feel the loose strands on his forehead – his lips are still tingling, and Buck’s got both arms wrapped around him tightly.

“In case that wasn’t clear,” Buck gasps, and lifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s chin and caresses his lower lip, and Eddie presses a kiss to the pad of it. “I love you, too.”

[shadowsviper]

Hello! Here to say hi! Your post appeared on my scroll and I noticed you have just one, so I figured you might be new around here! Welcome to Tumblr! I hope you find your crowd soon enough! 💖

In the meantime, do you mind telling me something about Jason Todd? I've never been too deep into DC, but I recognize his name. I'd love to hear your headcannons/thoughts about him! 💖

Hi! Thanks for welcoming me :) I've actually been lurking on tumblr for a while before I finally got the confidence to start writing.

Here's a short basic rundown of Jason: Jason Todd is the second person to take the mantle of Robin after Dick Grayson. Batman caught him stealing the wheels off the Batmobile in a dark alleyway one night and took him in. He was more rebellious and he didn't like Batman's moral code. Fans actually voted to kill him off in the series. Jason would be beaten by the Joker with a crowbar and left to die with his mother inside a warehouse with a time bomb. He would later be resurrected by Talia Al Ghul in the Lazarus Pit and took the mantle of Red Hood. He would use guns and violence when it came to crime fighting. When he found out that Batman didn't avenge him in any way, he felt betrayed and let his anger out on Gotham's criminals. He believed that they deserved a worse punishment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jason Todd Headcannons

He loves to bake, especially cookies. He'll bake other pastries every now and then, but his go to is cookies. It's something he'll never admit to his family, other than Alfred. He'll drop off some to his brothers sometimes with an insulting note; he would say they're poisoned just to mess with Tim

Whenever he has free time, he's in the library. Sometimes he'll be at the public library if he doesn't want to see his family. Other times he'll be in the Manor looking at whatever new books Alfred and Damian bought

It's actually canon that Jason likes to read books like Pride and Prejudice, and The Art of War, among many others

He loves to bother his brothers whenever he can

He loves to swing by GCPD when Dick is working just to mess with him. He might even go as far as faking an emergency just for the emergency to be him wanting to say a quick fuck you

Dick has banned him from coming within a 20-foot radius of GCPD. He also threatened to arrest him if he got close

It doesn't stop Jason. He has yet to be arrested because they technically can't arrest a dead man

He'll mess with Tim at any time. His things will slowly go missing; his mugs, coffee, important papers, you name it.

One time when Tim left his place unattended, Jason moved everything an inch to the left. It drove Tim crazy. More crazy than he already was considering he hadn't slept for the past two days. He'll get Jason back one day

What he does with Damian is a 50/50. Sometimes he'll spar with him for fun. Just a quick training exercise or he's actually trying to kill the demon spawn, who knows. Other times they're both reading silently in the corner of the library.

They won't talk about it after

Definitely broke into Wayne Enterprises way too many times

He had no reason to go in. He just wanted to bother Bruce or Tim. Or both

Definitely both

Has been escorted out multiple times with Bruce watching with his head in his hands

That man is stressed lmao

Definitely picks up Damian from school with white girl music blasting at full volume. The bass is cranked up to the point where you can feel it inside the school

Damian hates it so much because his classmates find Jason pretty cool and they keep trying to talk to him about Jason

Later banned from picking Damian up from school

[baronessvonglitter]

would you ever consider writing a deeper romantic relationship for the lovely couple from Daddy can fix it??💖 it’s sooo good

I hope you didn’t think I forgot about you 💕 I was so pleased to receive your ask. From one hopeless romantic to another, I hope you enjoy!

Daddy Does Drilling

Handyman! Joel x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: what happens when you and Joel blur the line between business and pleasure..

I invite everyone to also read "Daddy Can Fix It" 🩵

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears apron and dress. Reader's age not mentioned so there is as much or as little of an age gap as you want. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped). Oral (f receiving). Sarah and Ellie are mentioned but not named. Divorced Dad!Joel 🤭Slowly falling in love and not realizing it until it's too late. Mention of reader wanting a divorce from her husband. Also catty book club bitches.

"You're crazy, y'know that?" Joel whispers in your ear, his harsh whisper tickling your skin as he guides you up and down on his cock.

You grab the back of the sofa, nails digging into the soft upholstery as he plunges into your soaking wet pussy. "I had to do it," you giggle through your panting. "I couldn't stand my idiot husband doing all the work that you do better."

That earns you a slap on the ass, Joel's large hand giving it a firm grip after. "You're an insatiable lil' thing," he growls in your ear. "'Bout to wear me out."

You smirk up at the patched-up drywall, perfectly smoothed over by Joel's industrious and talented hands. Hands that are now grabbing your curves and molding your body to his. "Can you blame me? I'll never get enough of this cock!" Your sentence ends on a loud moan as he holds your hips steady and thrusts up into you hard and deep so you feel the steady brush of him up close to your cervix.

"Come on sweet thing, ya came twice already, you ready for a third?" Joel rasps in your ear. "Got my lap all fuckin' wet with this juicy pussy."

The moment he'd finished up with the wall you'd pounced on him, crushed your lips and your hips to his, delighted to find him already hard and ready. In the shortest amount of time ever, you both had shoved off and pulled aside whatever clothes were unnecessary and fucked right there on the sofa.

He's working you to your third orgasm, spoiling you, actually, holding back from his own pleasure because it's too much fun giving you yours, watching the beautiful expression on your face, the way your body shakes and trembles.

"There she is," he whispers as your sugar walls convulse around him, rhythmically squeezing his rigid cock, and that's when he lets himself explode, your pussy milking him for every drop he's got.

He's at your house every week, then twice a week, three times a week, until he's just there to fuck you and make you scream his name. No fixing of anything required.

Neither of you notices when things take a turn towards the soft, the sweet. He spends hours between your thighs, tasting and teasing you until you come multiple times, not just trying to get you off but trying to know you. Your time together is marked not by the quick, productive thrusts in positions you haven't tried since college, but in the lingering kisses and knowing stares, the confessions that spill from your lips, the honesty that is born of such intimacy as you've shared.

You find out that he's divorced, has two grown daughters, one married and the other away at university. He loves to work with his hands, that he has a natural knack for figuring out a solution to every problem, and persists until said problem is fixed. That's how he started his company.. and one day the ladies just started coming onto him.

Being older and single, he didn't let those chances pass him. The women he helped were lonely like himself, and if he could give them a bit of something to keep them happy even for a moment, he was glad to do it. It became a well-known secret among the housewives of the community of Royal Hill that he would provide good service at a decent price and give you the fucking of a lifetime if you asked politely.

He liked women, found their husbands to be idiots, more often than not. White collar limp dicks who think a G-spot is street slang for money. Some of them he got to know well: Amirah with the flawless umber skin and always smelled of jasmine; Isabelle who tip-tapped around her tiled home in impossibly high heels with ostentatious feathers on the straps and wore hardly anything under her sheer hot pink robe, also bedecked in feathers; Becky who was quite demanding and rude but submissive once she had a dick inside her.

Then came you. And you threw him for a loop.

You were more than you appeared: sweet, shy, pretty. Once he got you in bed you were a goddess, and the amazing thing was you already knew you were. You gave without asking anything in return.. but how could he ever deny you his strong hands, eager mouth, throbbing cock?

No one else had struck this feeling within him, no matter how many lonely housewives he visited, no matter how hard or rough or passionately he'd fucked any of them, they were just fun. Side quests, as his gamer brother would say.

He liked getting to know you, finding out who was the woman underneath the apron and the rosebud-patterned dress. You told him secrets no one else knew, and he found himself doing the same. You would call each other just to talk, to hear each other's voices when you couldn't be close.

What you didn't know was the impact it would have on the other housewives.

"He doesn't even come over himself anymore. His brother Tommy came by to fix the sink instead."

"Don't get me wrong.. Tommy's cute, but I wanted Joel."

"Daddy Joel."

You ignore the little group that's once again near the dessert table. You grab a couple of cucumber sandwiches and a chocolate-dipped madeleine, oblivious to their prattle.

"I don't know," Becky says pointedly. "His truck has been seen outside a certain someone's house a few days a week." She stops you before you can go back to your seat. "With the amount of time Joel's been at your home, you ought to have the most restored, revamped, upgraded home on the block," she says, brimming over with restrained attitude.

"What's going on?" she asks under her breath.

You can see the others are waiting for you to answer her, but for the first time ever you feel absolutely no need to appease them. You need to win them over like you need a hole in your head. "I don't know what you're talking about," you tell them, lying with ease.

"It's not nice to take up all his time," Becky says with an icy tone, staring you down as if looks could kill.

"Becky, is it just me, or are you jealous over a man you have to pay to fuck you?"

The others are stunned. No one has ever put Bitchy Becky in her place before. Not even she knows what to say.

"I think I'm done with this book club. I can read on my own at my house.. waiting on Daddy to fix whatever I need him to." With an angelic smile you drop the plate of treats back onto the table as you leave.

Walking out into the late afternoon sun you feel more free than you ever have before, as if a whole new chapter has started. The short walk to your house is pleasant, even more so when you see Joel's work truck in your driveway.

"Thought I missed ya," he says, his hands in his pockets as he walks from your front door.

"Fridays are for the book club," you explain, heart racing as you come close to him, and his arms go naturally around your waist. "But I quit. Can't really stand those snobby bitches."

You inhale the clean cotton scent of his red flannel, nuzzling your nose in his shoulder as he kisses the side of your head. "I don't want to do anything ever again that doesn't make me happy."

"So, lil' thing, what's gonna make ya happy right now?" he asks, a small grin playing across his lips.

Looking up at him, you realize Joel is the best choice you could have made. "I think I'm going to leave my husband. No.. I'm definitely going to leave my husband. But there's something else I want right now.."

"Good idea." His arms tighten slightly around you, as if to tether you to him. "And what would that be?"

"I want you to come inside.. you've got some drilling to do," you lead him by the hand and into your home.

dividers by @saradika 👑

[jillsandwhichs]

Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 6 , Beer and Sex

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You, Joel and Tommy are at an event in Austin that includes being outdoors, drinking & games! Well, long story short, you and Joel end up heading back to his place for some indoor fun

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Friends

WC: 3.0k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: No outbreak (AU), Usage of alcohol, Buzzed sex, Dirty talk, Making out, Breast play, Living room sex, You ride Joel, Unprotected sex, Choking kink, Clit rubbing, Denial of orgasm, doggy style & you ride him

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You sat back down whilst laughing. Picking your beer back up, you sipped it and put it back down. You haven't drinken in a while, it's nice to finally do it again. You're usually so busy with work that you never have the time or energy to get some alcohol in your system. Your friends Joel and Tommy convinced you to go with them to this event in town though and when you saw there were drinks, you couldn't refuse.

The only reason Joel and Tommy are here is because Maria is hosting this event. She's very big with the city council and hosts events like this from time to time. You don't mind coming. You're actually enjoying yourself. Just a bit ago you were playing darts with Joel and then tether ball with Tommy. You're slightly buzzed too. You can't get full blown drunk though, you need to still drive home.

As you watched some of the younglings run around and play, you felt the weight of the table increase as Joel sat down. It's a muscular man. He weighs a good bit. "Hey." You said in a friendly tone. "Hello." He replied, sipping his tall boy. "You got another one? Shit, don't make me go get another one too, I still have to drive home." You joked, resting your head in your hand. Joel chuckled. "My house is just a few blocks away and I walked here so I ain't even bothered." Joel stated.

That's right, he lives in the suburbs. That's not something you'd expect from a country boy like him. Then again, being country is defined by where you live. "Where did Tommy and Maria go?" "No fuckin' clue," Joel snickered, "Probably fuckin' in the bathroom or something." He teased. You laughed and nodded. "They are newly weds, what can you expect?" You said whilst giggling. Joel nodded. "True that."

Joel was once married, he even had a daughter with the woman. Joel has been single for years now though. Everyone jokes he's out of commission but he just says he's waiting for the right lady. Sarah, his daughter, is almost twelve. She's getting older and cuter by the second. You've met her quite a bit, even babysat her, she's a dear. Joel told you she's with her mother right now, so he's free.

"At least Maria is getting some. It's been a good few months for me." "Months? Try years darlin' and it ain't by choice." You cackled at his words. He isn't wrong. He's celibate from what you've heard. "Sorry Joel, that has to suck." "It sure fuckin' does." He took a shot of his beer. You nodded and sipped off of yours too. The beer was getting warm. Gross. You sighed deeply. "I'm going to go get a new beer, I'll be right back."

You stood up and headed towards the cooler. This cooler was brought by Tommy himself. He decided to provide it for everyone. It's the good stuff too. You bent over and picked up a new one. It was ice cold to the touch. "Hell yeah." You murmured, cracking it open. You're currently wearing a black tank top and short jean shorts. It's hot during the summer, you have to stay cool somehow.

When you turned around, you saw that Joel's eyes were on you. He looked like he was trying to play it off as if he wasn't just checking you out but he totally was. You can't lie, you've checked him out too. Those big muscles and that handsome face are a sight for sore eyes. He's a hottie, admittedly. You giggled and sat back down beside him.

"You were totally just checking me out, weren't you?" You said with a laugh, tipping your beer into your mouth and drinking it all while looking into his brown eyes. He snorted and nodded. "You caught me." Oh, so he was? You don't mind. You knew Joel would be there and that did somewhat take part in what you're currently wearing.

You've always thought he was sexy. The day Tommy introduced you to him you though that. That was only two years ago. Your guy's friendship has been great but you're awfully surprised the two of you haven't hooked up yet. You've definitely flirted and hit on one another. You've even went as far as to having him lick salt off of your stomach before taking a shot of tequila and that had you soaked.

It is very surprising.

"But you can't deny you were checkin' me out earlier." Joel whispered to you with a husky voice. You giggled. "Guilty as charged. You've also caught me red handed." This isn't just the beer talking. You totally were. When he was putting the cooler down earlier, you were indeed gawking at his veiny, buff arms. You giggled and bit your lip while looking up at him. "How drunk are you?" You asked him. "Not drunk enough." You rolled your eyes at his words.

You looked around the area. You still have no clue where Tommy and Maria are. "I'll shoot him a text. Let's get out of here." He whispered to you. You scoffed and breathed in deeply. "Alright." You giggled. He got off of the picnic table and took your hand in his, helping you out of the table as well. You smiled at him. Your guy's hands stayed interlocked. Is this actually going to happen? Are you going to fuck Joel Miller? After all this time?

"My house ain't too far from here." Joel said to you in a deep voice. "I know." You smiled, walking alongside him. You don't feel drunk. You do feel buzzed. It isn't anything you can't handle. You're a heavy weight. It takes you time to really hit the drunk point. The trees around you and Joel brought you two shade, but you're already too hot, in more ways than one. He looked down at you and chuckled. "I can't wait to fuck you." He admitted. You huffed out. "Good." You bit your lip to hold back a big grin.

You glanced over your shoulder. You hope no one will wonder where you two are. You'd rather keep this between you and Joel for now. "Will we come back once we're done?" "We'll have to, I left my goddamn brother back there." You laughed loudly. "That is true... He'll be fine, right?" "He's a grown man, he's fine. Like I said darlin', I'll text him." You nodded. You just don't want them to come looking for the two of you.

You'd rather not be in the middle of getting fucked when Tommy and Maria show up.

-

As Joel opened his front door and locked it behind him, he chuckled and grabbed you, smashing his lips against yours. You kissed him back. His messy beard scraped against your face. "Mmph." You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He picked you up into his arms like you were a feather. You giggled and continued to kiss him. His hands were on your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he took you two to the living room area.

"Baby?" "Hmm?" "Bedroom or living room?" You snorted at his question. At least you get a say in this. You thought for a moment. "Let's keep it fun-living room." "Glady." Joel smirked, kissing you again but this time, his tongue found it's way into your mouth. You didn't mind. It made you even more horny. Your guy's tongues fought for dominance. You wanted to explore every crevice of his mouth. You moaned loudly as he sat you down on him. You could feel his erection through his stained work jeans.

You giggled and kissed him before reaching your hands down to the end of your tank top and pulling it off. Joel just stared in admiration. He thinks you're gorgeous. "Look at you," He purred, "You're beautiful." He whispered. You grinned. "You're handsome, and so sexy." You spoke seductively before licking his lower lip and kissing him again. His hands went to your tits, he squeezed them gently. Joel is more of an ass guy though.

After making out for a little bit, Joel finally pulled away to take deep breaths. "I'm fuckin' twitchin'." He sighed deeply, looking down at his bulge. You think that's the sexist thing ever. You love when a man is vocal about how he feels or what you're doing to him. "I'm so wet for you, wanna feel?" You whispered against his ear. Joel's breath shuttered. "Badly." And his hands went to your shorts, undoing them and helping you out of them as well.

Stepping out of your shorts, you climbed back into Joel's lap and sighed. "Feel." You whispered, kissing his neck and jawline. Joel brought his finger down to your core and pulled your panties to the side. As he dipped his fingers through your folds, he let out a low groan. "So fuckin' wet, just for me, hm?" He whispered, nibbling on your jawline. You giggled. "Just for you." This surely isn't the first time you've gotten wet thinking about Mr. Joel Miller.

Joel swiped his fingers through your folds, picking up all of your juicy wetness. You continued to kiss him. He seemed desperate, like a wild animal. He's hungry for you. You bit his lower lip and once again swiped your tongue along his. You moaned so quietly, it was more of a whimper.

He pulled his finger away and grunted. "Need to feel you from the inside." He murmured as he pulled his cock out of his jeans. Oh yeah, he's big. You're excited. It's been so long, especially for him. You hope you're as good as he'll be to you. Grabbing his member, you yourself pulled your white panties to the side before you then sat down on his dick. Both of you made sensual noises as your folds and cunt enveloped him. He was already so deep inside of you. It feels so good.

"How's that?" You chuckled, your arms around his neck. He snickered and gripped your ass tightly, landing a smack onto it which caused you to jolt slightly. "You feel so good. Now fuckin' ride me." He began to squeeze and slap your ass and you started to ride him. You went slow at first. Your movements were just simple grinds back and forth but you'd occasionally lift your ass up and back down, literally bouncing on his cock.

You wanted to savour this. You haven't felt this good in awhile. Having sex with Joel tonight was not on your agenda of plans but seriously, it is a welcomed surprise. He feels amazing. He knows what he's doing too. Each time he pinches your ass cheeks or spanks you playfully, it either makes you moan or kiss him even harder and more passionately.

Now, Joel is holding your hips. You began to ride him faster too. His dick is so deep inside of you, you can hardly believe it. "I've wanted this for a long time." You moaned out, looking him in the eyes. His eyes got darker and even more full of lust. "Me too babygirl, me too." He then swatted your ass again before going back to squeezing your hips. You're sure you'll have red marks all over your cheeks by later in the evening.

Bouncing on him, each thrust was just a mark bringing you closer to your climax. His member is deep inside of you and is shoving itself against your tight walls with each movement. "Yes baby." He groaned, kissing and licking your neck. He thinks you smell amazing. You did put on your perfume before going to the event. You're glad it's doing it's job.

"Babygirl, turn around, cowgirl, y'know?" You giggled at his words. "Yes sir." You teased and lifted yourself off of him slightly to turn around. You were surprised he asked you to switch positions, but you aren't complaining. You pushed yourself down onto his dick again and you both made whimpering noises. He seems to be feeling good. That's all you want. It's been years for him, you better make it good.

Once you got comfortable, you moaned loudly as he started to thrust up into you. "Joel!" You practically screamed, tossing your head back against his broad shoulder. He cackled and kissed your neck, leaving numerous bites and hickies onto it too. How are you supposed to go into work on Monday? You're sure these'll last a few days, hopefully not. "Need to make sure I still got it." Joel grunted, now he is the one fucking you and man, it's heaven.

Joel noticed your head was still tilted back against his shoulder. He smirked. He brought his left hand up to your neck and held it, choking you now. You moaned and turned your head slightly, kissing his messy hair and giggling. "You're so deep inside of me." You panted. "Yea? You're takin' it so fuckin' well too baby." Joel replied, kissing your cheeks numerous times, making you smile and chuckle.

His free hand, his right one, was one your lower stomach, holding you in place. You wanted to look down to see him moving inside of you, but you couldn't. With his hand on your neck, there's not much you can do with your head. You aren't complaining. You think it's hot to be choked. He does it so well too. "Been thinkin' about fuckin' you for awhile now," He whispered against your ear. His breath was warm. "You feel better than I ever could've imagined." That made you whimper in pleasure.

You felt his right hand slither down from your waist and to your clit. You whimpered. "Oh God!" You whined out as he began to rub your clit fast and with pressure. It felt so good. He works well with his fingers. He continued to thrust up into you, which made the experience a million times better. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered to him. "No baby, not yet, hold it in." What!? How are you supposed to just hold it in? "What?" "You heard me babydoll." He licked behind your ear and bit on your lobe. "Do not cum yet." He sternly stated.

"How?" "Just do it."

How are you supposed to hold back your orgasm? No hookup has ever asked you to hold it back. Actually, they need you to cum quickly or else they'll finish before you. You whimpered and bit your lip. No, you're going to cum. "I can't," You panted, "I just can't." Joel didn't respond. "Joel!" You moaned out, reaching your hand behind his head and tugging on his hair. He grunted and bit down on your neck.

"Cum for me."

That was it. You moaned softly as you coated his cock in your fluids. You let go of his hair. Shaking in his lap, Joel continued to rub your clit until you came down from your high. It overstimed you even. "Holy Christ." You moaned. You went to turn your head to kiss him but he lifted you up and chuckled. "I still haven't finished." He then pushed you down onto the couch, doggy style, and began to pound into you.

You moaned loudly and gripped the couch beneath you. Your knuckles even went white. He moved so skillfully inside of you. Each pump was one of excellence. "Wish I could cum inside of you." He whispered, running his hands up and down your back before he ultimately rested them on your rear. Joel gripped your ass, squeezing it tightly before leaving multiple slaps onto it, all of which made your moan or squeal.

With just a couple more thrusts, Joel finished. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself. He finished all over your ass and lower back. "Fuck sakes." Joel groaned, caressing your ass as he came. You pushed your ass against his manhood and giggled. He spanked you again and snickered. "One sec." He leaned over and grabbed a random wipe, cleaning your ass and back off. He tossed the rag to the other side of the living room and you chuckled.

Joel heaved deeply and lifted you up by your waist and pulled you back into his lap. You were basically completely naked, only in panties whereas he was fully dressed. So unfair. "Was it good?" You asked him, resting your head against the arm of the couch. He glanced down at you, still breathing heavily. "You're a funny girl." He leaned down and kissed you softly. "It was fuckin' glorious." He then nibbed on your jawline, making you giggle cutely.

You hummed and looked up at him. "You're the only man whose ever denied me of finishing, by the way." You snorted. "That's because you've only done slept with boys who finish too quickly. I think it's sexy to see a woman be restricted of her pleasure." You giggled at his words. "It felt better." "That's the point babydoll." He caressed your cheek and you brought yourself closer to his face, kissing him gently.

He breathed in deeply and cupped your face firmly, holding you in place. "Don't convince me to fuck you again." He said with a smile against your lips. "If you can't handle it..." You bit your lip. You acted like you were about to get off of his lap and you suddenly squealed as he tossed you back onto the couch and put you in missionary. Your legs went over his shoulders and you smiled.

"Oh I think I can handle it."

That was where the next of many rounds began.

[letsgofullpogue]

I don't usually share my thoughts on the season here, I try to keep it more of an archive than anything, but this shit was a mess and I need to unpack it somewhere. Thoughts on season 4 below the cut.

Groff being JJ's father doesn't make any sense.

Before part two even came out, this little kernel of story rang so false for me. How does Luke wind up with a kook baby who "died" at sea? And the obvious answer is he had an affair with a kook, they had a baby, and, sure, she dies and he has to take care of the baby, leaving him bitter and alone and resentful of JJ. This is a reasonable expectation based on what we know of Luke thus far. But that's not what they're selling. Luke is a good-natured groundskeeper for the Genrettes, forming a light friendship with Larissa and bringing her little baby flowers to light up their days. Chandler, the baby's actual father, lurks in the background, seemingly jealous and controlling and not a fan of Luke. This completely stomps all over what we know to be true about Luke from the beginning, and really wipes out all the beautiful, horrifying work that Rudy and Gary did to build their relationship up until now. What a tragedy.

Why would Chandler kill Larissa and hand off the baby, pretending that he died? Was he hoping that Wes would take him under his wing and he would become the Genrette heir? Why not just keep his own baby with him, who would presumably be the real Genrette heir, coming into the money and property by way of guardianship when he inevitably killed Wes anyway? What's the deal with Chandler and Larissa? Did he marry her for money since he was a Pogue (more on that later)? Is this Foghorn Leghorn accent put on? Did he marry her specifically for her Blackbeard connections? Was it on the order of the Lupine Corsairs? Did he start working with them before he hooked up with Larissa? Was this all part of the plan? Why did Larissa keep her last name? Why in god's name do I care?

Watching Chandler play JJ the whole time requires us to believe that JJ is stupid, and JJ is not stupid. Impulsive, sure. Acts before thinking, absolutely, but not stupid. He's not going to get played this way (especially by a Kook), letting Chandler lock him in a mausoleum, giving him the necklace, giving Chandler his phone. It's insane. And driving around town in the Twinkie while being wanted? Still using their house and surf shop as home base for planning? Stupid stupid stupid.

The retread of scenes we've already done

Pope and Sarah in the tunnel with the rain is Kie in the sewer with the water flushing her out.

JJ and Chandler in the Twinkie is Big John and John B in the Twinkie, and just as bad. I thought they understood that was too much time away from the group, but what I've come to is that they don't actually understand anything.

Wasting too much time with a band of villains, see also last season. At least Singh had an interesting story that somewhat wove into the quest. These guys are just hired grunts. They're not on this hunt for themselves, they were hired to find the crown. Hired by who? And why do we care? They have a code that they live by, but we don't care that one of their faceless guys got killed and that they're out for revenge while pursuing the treasure. They get way too much screen time for us only have ten episodes.

Pope running from the Marines is Pope running from his scholarship interview, with higher stakes consequences that'll never be addressed, I'm sure.

Pope, John B, Cleo, and Sarah in the garage is John B in the garage in season one.

JJ wounded and floating in the water, just like in season two.

JJ and Kie talking about wishes while on watch is surf trip again. I was like, oh wow the chemistry is totally back here, and then I realized that it's fully leaning on the cadence of something that's already happened.

These are not parallels, this is bad writing. Or lazy writing. Or both.

High-stakes actions with no regard for consequences

Speaking of, they're constantly writing themselves into situations they can't get out of at this point. Last year, with JJ making deals with Barracuda Mike, big-time drug dealer, a thing that should have had huge consequences for reneging on the deal, but wound up with none. And in an even bigger 'this doesn't matter', he goes to Barracuda Mike's house this year and demands things of him? Wild and unbelievable.

This year, with JJ assaulting cops and destroying the town, for reasons that don't even really make sense. Wanted and on the run. How do you come back from that? (And a side note. JJ wasn't ever really a physically destructive presence, moreso destructive in the way that he has impulse control issues and acts before he thinks. But JJ has always been the type to take the beating, not start it. Happy to defend himself and his friends, but out of a feeling of usefulness and purpose in the group, not for funsies.)

Also this year with Pope, assaulting a cop, slipping his ankle monitor, and running away from the Marines. THE MARINES. Consequences should be looming, and who knows if we'll get there. But why set these kids on the run for the rest of their lives? The point is this place, the point is these kids. These beautiful idiots with bad luck and good hearts, just trying to get a win. What win is left? Evading jail? Revenge killing? What happened to our little boat show? This is a mess.

A family way

It's insane to me that they would chose to make Sarah pregnant in these circumstances that they've written them into, but then again, it's written by men who seem to have big-time mommy and daddy issues, so why am I surprised? I do feel like the best part of the season is that before John B even knew about the pregnancy, he was basically like I want to be done with this shit. He is not his father, he doesn't yearn for the adventure of it all. He wants to build a life, a normal life, and I wish we had had more time to sit with that and explore it for him.

The dialog

I don't know if it's that they're not improving as much anymore because of ~*reasons*~, but the dialog has gone completely down the tubes. In the last episode of the season, Kiara says "JJ hurry" over and over, at least 5 times in the span of like 15 minutes. When John B, Sarah, and Cleo are running from the Kooks, it's hurry, hurry, hurry. It's either that the writers simply aren't trying anymore or so much of the dialog was filled in with improv that now that everyone hates each other (she says casually and not addressing it at all), they're unwilling to play. Either way, that's their jobs. This show should be so fun to watch and it's becoming a drag.

The filters

I know everyone has complained about the colors of this show the whole time, but it's becoming unforgivable. The blue nighttime filter? I want to throw something at my tv every time they use it. Shoot at night??? Or on a stage? There are options that aren't the most awful fake-looking filters in the world, which, by the way, make watching on any smaller screen completely impossible. I miss those season one South Carolina sunsets. It feels like we've replaced most of those with a really harsh yellow filter that makes lighting people impossible.

Pogues vs. Kooks

That was the setup for this show, right? The haves and the have-nots? Two tribes, one island? Well, now almost every Kook is a Pogue and every Pogue is a Kook. They're muddling the message with bad results, because they still seem to want the tension and the storylines that result from it, but Chandler is a Pogue turned Kook, Ward was a Pogue turned Kook, so is Mike. JJ is a Kook turned Pogue, Rafe, RAFE of all people is working with the Pogues and engaged to one? With season five being the official last season, what will we be left with at the end of all this?

Interviews

So much of what they intended for this story, or what they want the audience to take from this story is told in interviews. I don't know if they're flat-out lying or they really think they nailed it in the telling. They say JJ is freaking out because he finds out he's a Kook, but that's not really what happened on screen, it seems more like he freaks out because their land is being taken from them and Luke's back and betraying them for a deal to keep him out of jail (yeah, not enough time spent on that). That JJ dying was the plan from the beginning which I don't believe was the case for one single second. "JJ is super jealous", where? Show me where because he barely glances at Kiara the entire second half of the season. They're two unsupervised children, dating, living in the same house, who barely ever touch, nevermind kiss. You're making this shit up to get the fans in a frenzy about it and not delivering in the telling.

The biggest fuck you

JJ dying. If talk is to be believed (and I do believe it) Rudy asked to leave and the Pates granted this request by killing him. I'm pissed as hell that the Rudy/Elaine/Madison/Mariah whatever it was ruined a truly great character and couple (the thing that brought me to this show in the first place) and I'm also pissed that it was written this way. Their right as writers and showrunners, I guess. BUT. There is a way to do this and have it make narrative sense and spur the story on and it is their job as writers to figure that out. What they did was strap him with an insane storyline about biological parents that makes no sense, act completely out of character for much of the season, have him pick up a drinking problem that he's never had before (becoming a liability for his friends), and have his new daddy kill him with a 1-inch blade in retribution for *checks notes* not letting him out of a well? Oh, and having his friends bury him in an unmarked grave in a land far from home, a home that they really can't even return to without some of them going to jail for a long time. And now they're out for revenge, as suggested by Rafe.

What is season five going to be? Losing JJ (and Jiara by extension) is a devastating loss for this show. Saddling John B and Sarah with a kid on the way while on the run and actively pursuing very bad people is irresponsible. How can we bring it on home in a way that honors these characters and makes sense of the mess they made of this story? How can we bring it on home at all? I'm not sure, but I guess we'll find out when the time comes. Lord knows, I'll be here until the bitter end.

[yanmuffins]

asks 3.

more asks i'm answering in a bulk about p&f! reader! there's two for vampire! reader at the end of the post, though.

@amethystjellyfish

jon better keep an eye out for selener.

ok, to be fair, damian knows the family's gotten pretty overbearing at this point. father was not at all pleased to discover the stunts they (damian included) pulled over the course of the summer. and he, too, knows that his sibling is feeling cooped up with all the excessive supervision. but.

but.

just who does jon think he is to try and take their sibling away from their home? he was supposed to be damian's friend, and it is for the sake of their friendship he'll overlook such an absurd suggestion and not tell his family on the condition jon never says anything like that again. let's just hope tim wasn't listening, else he would rat them all out since he (and everyone else in the family) has zero issues with kicking jon out the manor if he keeps putting those ideas in p&f! reader's mind. poor jon (╥ ω ╥)

@akatsukki677

the referenced scene!

one of my favorite candace moments.

also, why is this so in-character for them? i am begging someone please draw this.

NOT DAMIAN SECRETLY LIKING DUCKY MOMO!!! you are all so big-brained. you know, dick would ask p&f! reader about it next time they bumped into each other. and he will find out about damian's love for ducky momo one way or another (not that reader would snitch, but dick is dick. he would notice).

i don't much to add, but here are some more gems (jason being cute with perry, though, i love it sm):

i have a sinking feeling that if jason somehow came to know of perry's secret identity as agent p before everyone else he would have so much fun gaslighting tim. yeah. he's a platypus. just a platypus, tim. chill. go to sleep.

... then he fistbumps perry when tim's not looking.

p&f! reader and damian bringing in cryptids and magical creatures into the manor like it's another ordinary day seems like something that would absolutely happen, yes.

the horse with fins is just what they salvaged from their very succesful trip to atlantis, they'll find horsie a good home eventually. and for every unlikely creature and plant they stumble upon, they just blame it on damian. they're his thing, after all! i don't think it would happen often, but damian still wouldn't enjoy getting scolded for animals that aren't his. nevermind that he may or may not be connivent in finding those animals, sneaking them into the house and finding them proper homes. that's not relevant.

trying to blame it on reader will just get him incredulous looks from his family. no, reader did not find a dodo bird, that's impossible. there's no way they could do that.

@amethystjellyfish

not only is he trying to convince p&f! reader that their pet platypus is secretly evil and plotting tim's demise specifically, he's trying to convince the entire manor. he has a powerpoint presentation. he has flashcards. he has become damian 2.0 but instead of reader's, he's trying to bust the platypus. obviously, p&f! reader thinks it's silly. damian straight up laughs at tim. bruce is too tired to even sigh.

"it's just a platypus, tim, they don't do much", they say. fools, the lot of them. there's something off about that semiaquatic egg-laying mammal and HE'S GOING TO PROVE IT.

yup, he's p&f reader's isabella! and yes, i think besides damian and jon, they very much have a group of friends from metropolis. damian wouldn't get along with them too well, at least at first, but jon integrates fine into the friend group.

@randomlyappearingartist

good question! i guess we'll just have to chalk it up to p&f! reader's cartoonish luck that they haven't come across any actual evil villains who want to user their genius for their own nefarious purposes.

it would be interesting to just see a bunch of villains arguing and fighting between each other to offer p&f! reader an internship or kidnap them so they can build evil contraptions. but, in the end, reader never gets kidnapped, never becomes aware there are villains out there wanting to scout them, because the villains keep thwarting each other before they even reach p&f! reader. so something like this:

evil goon: hey kid, kid! i gotta talk...

evil goon from another villain: immediately tackles him to the ground and they start fighting. reader is none the wiser.

one of my favorite gags is people who shouldn't have guns pulling out guns at dramatically appropriate times. and it makes sense! i mean, p&f! reader is bruce's kid, so them being prepared for every possible situation just feels natural.

although... i reckon they'd be more creative than just straight up having a gun. probably a more creative non-lethal item of their own making that was meant as a weapon but could absolutely be used as such, which would also be so, so funny.

like this:

vampire! reader try to hide her vampirism (impossible)

the asks i've gotten about reader being terrible at hiding that she's a vampire in the manor (and the implications that her family is kinda brushing it off and accepting her excuses) are so great. yeah, sure, reader fell and that's why she's covered in copious amount of blood, stephen king's carrie-style. it does make them very suspicious but like.... what else would it be?

and honestly, tim and steph have no idea how relieved they should be that reader is staring at crime scene photos when there's two human beings full of blood right there with her. i'm surprised no one has sent in a bruce scenario where she's being completely erratic and he's just sitting there, perplexed, unsure on how to proceed

[geekgirl101]

More 8x06 thoughts. Still processing

I've been trying to express my feelings about 8x06 on paper, and there's still so much swirling in my head. So apologies if this is too long and ranty.

The GA isn't happy for a lot of reasons. One was that Tommy did fit with the 118, he was friends with Eddie and Chim. Two: they were happy Buck was in a relationship, and it seemed like (at least in season 7) that he was finally off the hamster wheel. And they like Eddie and Buck's friendship and don't want to see them together. After all the BS takes I've seen from you-know-whos, I can't say I disagree at all.

It's like neither Buck nor the writers have learned anything from past love interests. Tommy is the one with the most potential because of how well he fits, and he clearly has a lot of abandonment issues. Hey, so does Buck. That could have been a great point to explore.

I don't think Buck needs to sleep around to explore himself. But I do think Buck never fully processed anything.

It's wild that Buck and Tommy dated for six months and NEVER had any real conversations about exes? Tommy does strike me as the kind of person who keeps people at arm's length, who maybe doesn't say much about his past unless he has to. He could have also held back because he was letting Buck set the pace. I know Tommy isn't a main character. But they could have done so much more with this and with him. Hopefully its not the end.

The show also did nothing to show Buck's growth in a relationship, aside from the fact that he kissed a boy and liked it.

8x01 showed us that Buck was competent, professional, and mature, and stupidly I was hoping that would extend to his relationship too.

I think Buck has to figure out what he wants out of a relationship, I hope we see more of Buck talking to Josh or Hen and then he and Tommy work on making a relationship that's lasting, honest, and full of love (if we're grudging up Abby, we can continue the red string here and make that nod too)

What also bothers me is they took 3 episodes to build Buck and Tommy and show us that they have chemistry and that Tommy shows up for Buck, they had two more moments where it was clear they were getting to know each other and were solid in season 7.

And then it took them 1 episode to tear it all down without ever showing Buck showing up for Tommy. They were supposed to be getting to know each other. But six months in, it's like they didn't even know each other at all... or actually. It's like Buck didn't know Tommy at all.

I find it frustrating that we got to see so little of them, and most of it was Tommy doing things for Buck, showing up for Buck, complementing Buck, and taking care of Buck. A relationship has to be a two-way street. You show up for me, I show up for you.

And I'm glad Tommy showed up for Buck. Buck deserves love. But so does Tommy. Tommy was clearly looking for love, IDk if he was looking for a family or anything long term. Maybe he was dealing with a bad breakup and Buck was adorable, and he thought, maybe this could be a thing for now, but he ended up falling for him, clearly, and panicked. But I think on some level he was looking for someone to show up for him too, even when things got hard. And maybe this is foreshadowing. I hope it is. But I refuse to get my hopes up about it, or about Buck's love life ever again.

[kaleidoscopiodeluz]

Imagine you are in your lowest point ever in life, you live alone in a nice house, but you're extremely lonely and sad. One day, a cat appears in your backyard. He's clearly malnourished and hurt, and he's unconscious when you find him. You can see that he actually has a collar with a nametag, but no phone number. You know he has a family, a home somewhere, but you can't really take him there and you also kinda think you can take better care of him. You actually pour all your ability to love onto this little fur ball, and you do save his life, so who cares if sometimes he cries while looking out the window? You know he's safe inside, you are doing everything in your power to make him happy and safe because you love him, he gave your life meaning. You buy him the best food and toys and a comfy bed, everything. About a year goes by and then, out of the blue, someone comes to your house and tells you that you have to let the cat go because he wasn't yours to begin with, he misses his family and has to get back home. What's more, they tell you that you can't take him there, that he has to face all those dangers that first brought him to you in the first place all by himself. You cry, you are angry and frustrated, you don't understand why this little baby doesn't want to stay with you when all you ever did was love him. But you let him leave. And now everyone hates you because you kept him from his home, and yes, maybe it was a mistake, and maybe it was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong at the time, you had the power to give him a great life, so why would you think he would choose the risk?

This is about Calypso in Epic: The Musical btw. She was definitely wrong for keeping Ody in the island, but she is a fucking goddess, in her logic it was within her power so why wouldn't it be within her rights? Again, she's definitely in the wrong, but Odysseus himself has done worse in the name of love and yet he's just a mere victim? That's not fair. Calypso is as complex a character as he is, she is very lovable and naive, and deeply wishes for Ody to love her and be thankful that she saved him and gave him everything he could ever want or need. She could make him immortal, she would do anything for him. She believes him wanting to go home to his wife is just a human whim that will go away once he sees everything she's willing to give him. And seven years is nothing when you're immortal, so she can wait it out patiently.

Also, Ody knows how pure of heart Calypso really is. He knows she hasn't done anything worse than the lengths he would go for Penelope, and it's been seven fucking years. Of course he loves her, not romantically, but he does love her. For the last seven years of his life she has been his everyday, she's been comforting and sweet and offered him love and luxuries. He loves her and he still sees her as an antagonist and that hurts them both. Leaving definitely wasn't easy for him either, but he had one goal in mind. One.

Also if someone comments anything about Calypso SAing Odysseus, NO SHE FUCKING DIDN'T. Even if the song didn't make it to the final version, Apetite shows us that she never actually forced him!

Anyways if you actually made it this far, I hope you have an amazing day, and remember: if you hate a morally grey character when is a woman of color but love it when is a white dude maybe the problem is not in the morality of the character. Ok, love you! Thanks for reading, byeeee

[dashing-disaster]

"Buck doesn't like basketball but basketball got him Tommy so it's actually a sweet gift" might be the most self centered arrogant take I've ever had to read - and in that, it makes perfect sense that that's the kind of logic Tommy, who constantly condescends and patronizes Buck, would use.

I see how the line can be interpreted that way if one doesn't like the ship, yeah. But it's not how I meant it and I think that comes across well enough in the rest of the post so I'm not too concerned about this.

Now, I wouldn't necessarily call Tommy condescending or patronising as that implies some degree of willfulness and his behaviour towards Buck up to the moment of breaking up is never deliberately unkind.

Quite the opposite, Tommy shows up for Buck, even if he has to go out of his way to do so, he compliments him, he takes care of him when he's hurt and he listens to him. Does he perhaps not always get it and is fondly exasperated? Absolutely. Just like Eddie, as we saw in the Halloween episode. Those two were on the same page about the curse there, but they still indulged Buck because they both love him.

Honestly, after 6 months the occasional eye-roll or 'sure honey' at your partner is a given because that person might be an idiot but they're your idiot.

That's not to say that Tommy isn't still a deeply flawed individual and that is unfortunately reflected in the way he handles conflict. There are two things specifically that form a pattern: Tommy assumes to know what other people (Buck) feel or think or how they will react in a situation and he runs from his problems. Both of those things are a defense mechanism and something people learn to do as a result of trauma.

Now, is it a healthy defense mechanism? Hell no! It's one that I'd advise anyone who detects these patterns in themselves to unpack with a therapist or, if that's not possible, at least be aware of the issues and try to find coping strategies to prevent self-sabotage.

Also let's be real, if it comes to unhealthy coping mechanisms he's found his people at the 118. Everyone at that station has had a go at those at some point I think. And thank God for that otherwise this show would be dreadfully boring.

And that's also where I would have loved to see more of this relationship. I'd have loved for Buck, who still has so little self-worth that he simply accepts it whenever someone leaves him, to fight for this relationship because they're both worth it. And at the same time with Tommy, who apparently would rather blow up a good thing without cause or reason just so he can be the one to control it, I would have loved for him to take that leap of faith and trust Buck.

It could have been a beautiful story about growth. I actually think it still can be, if the TV Gods are willing.

So, long story short, is Tommy arrogant, condescending, and patronising towards Buck? No. But he's not perfect either. He's a three-dimensional character with past trauma, fears, flaws, and many layers that we unfortunately only scratched the surface of.

And it's okay if you see things differently. It's okay if you don't like Tommy and your opinions and feelings about him are perfectly valid, just as mine.

Anyway, thank you for your message, anon, I hope you have a good day.

[incomingalbatross]

Thoughts on Ghost Days by Jim Butcher (and possibly the earlier books, if they spill over into this post)

All of this is, as Harry observes, absolutely typical of his existence. Of course he can't just die, he gets sent back as a special unknown type of ghost to solve his own murder. And of course he shoulders like three different new obligations, makes a new friend, and adopts a criminal teenager within his first 24 hours of unlife.

Kinda love how quickly and understatedly he's incorporated the very latest familial revelation into his narration. He says something like "I'd lost the scar on my arm that I got while skinning a fish on my grandfather's farm" and it's so casual it almost slips by.

(Side note: I need to see his grandfather and his brother find out about each other now. I realize there has been no opportunity and these aren't exactly Harry's secrets to tell anyway, but please.)

Mort going "all cats can see ghosts, they just don't usually care" checked out completely, of course, but it was also perfect setup for Mister's "HELLO YOU'RE BACK MY HUMAN HI." Which. Oof.

Ways you can tell it's really Harry Dresden: 1) Mister hits him in the invisible shins, 2) he opens the conversation with a Star Wars quote, 3) he's talking a teenager into turning his life around.

Love all the Bob content in this one. Harry got to see how the other half lived and everything. (Though his amorality credentials are slightly tarnished by that heroic last stand of his. Which he'd better have survived.)

Everyone here seems like they're an inch from cracking, and I'm concerned for all of them, but they're DOING THEIR BEST. (Butters isn't an inch from cracking. He seems to be doing great, I'm very proud of him.)

Very glad and also a little amused that the Super Secret Safe Witness Protection Home for Maggie is... the Carpenters. I mean it absolutely should be, but it's also funny.

Of course Mouse exists equally in the physical and spirit world. I'd be more surprised if he didn't.

I DID have several moments where I went what about Thomas. why isn't your narration even mentioning Thomas, but the payoff of "I couldn't stand to face even the thought of what I'd done to him" made it make sense.

More general/Thematic thoughts:

Uriel and/or the narrative really said "You're going to take a good, hard look at the unintended consequences of your actions. And you're going to do it disembodied so you can process a little better."

There was something that really struck me at some points in the Lasciel period, and it's back again now: I love that when Harry crosses lines, not only is he capable of seeing it, but the reaction of the people around him is, "yeah you sure did cross a line! you did wrong. so stop doing it and get better, because you can. this isn't a slippery slope unless you decide it is."

He has! Free will! Contrition is always meaningful! Change is always possible! Harry is never allowed to write himself off. He is always told that he's capable of picking himself up and doing better - because he is. He's alive and human and that means he has as much hope as he chooses to hold onto.

That said, I also really appreciated the weight his choices in the last book are given here. It's so easy to just go along with "it was for Maggie, it was his JOB" (and it was his job), but this book made Harry and us stop and linger on both the lines he crossed and the unintended harm he caused.

(Though he is taking too much weight on himself. Martin maneuvered a lot of this into play, not to mention the ACTUAL Red Court. And there is something to be said for the SG-1 approach of "stop worrying about ramifications and just kill the ancient evil first.")

(Oh, now I remember! I was also thinking of Hunger Games re: this. Katniss and Peeta's defiance of evil was personally motivated and sparked a lot of unintended harm to others - but it was also the only spark that could have destroyed the machinery of evil. Not quite the same but made me think of it.)

ANYWAY. Speaking of crossed lines and harm caused: I was NOT prepared for the murder reveal.

It DOES explain so much about this whole book, especially in combination with the (not as shocking :P) reveal that he's only mostly dead. He NEEDED to know this. He needed to know and understand all the choices he made, and their results - and the lie that influenced him - if he was going to be allowed back to his body.

First, he needed to know there was no outside killer to worry about. He also needed to know that HE did this. All of it. Part of accepting culpability and facing his choices meant facing that there was a third murder on his account - because that is how he frames it - what he did to Molly and what he did to himself and everyone who loved him.

He also, most crucially, needed his free will reasserted, both by the manipulation being revealed to him and by Uriel balancing the scales.

Because a Harry Dresden who had given up on himself as the Winter Knight is a nightmare the world's not ready for.

Instead he's ready to give Mab new problems. :) She gets what she paid for.

Closing thought: If, when he finally gets back to the world of the living, he does not make at least one "mostly dead" and/or "really most sincerely dead" joke, I will be very disappointed in him.

[alleiradayne]

I haven't said much personally about Veilguard besides sharing my Rook and a few other silly things, but I do have a couple thoughts now that I'm so very far into my playthrough (halfway at about 50 hours).

I know the music hasn't hit like some hoped it would. I agree that it is not as good as Inquisition. That's still my favorite OST of the series. I understand BioWare wanted a new composer for the next game because each game has had a different composer. But given how very connected Inquisition and Veilguard are, I disagree with that premise and thought they should have stuck with Morris, and not only for that reason. He's a fucking musical genius.

All that said, I do enjoy Zimmer's and Balfe's work on this OST. It's not bad. I was shittalking the main theme for weeks after it came out but when you mash it up with the actual opening of the game, it fits. And I like all the softer versions of it, the less complicated takes with less instrumentation. And there are other tracks that call back to Inquisition. No, I'm not referring to the cameos where Morris's actual tracks were used. I'm talking about Zimmer/Balfe's new content where they threaded callbacks to Inquisition. Once I finish the game, I'm going to do a much deeper analysis of the Veilguard OST, but for now, I'm enjoying it as I play the game (I don't want to listen to the OST before I finish the game itself).

A couple other thoughts in shorter form:

The combat is fun. Compared to previous games, it's dynamic enough that, while there are patterns, you still have to be on your toes. Yes there's the rock, paper, scissors of get rid of armor, get rid of barrier, then spam left click/spells. But you know what, compared to the previous games, I'm enjoying that. It's a nice change of pace. I'm also playing a Mourn Watch Death Mage, so there's some nice flavor there.

Skin texture sucks. It's too smooth. It gives everyone a cartoonist look. I hate it.

Hair is fucking gorgeous. I just wish there were more styles I liked.

The story and quests are fantastic.

I find the dialogue to be a fun balance between seriousness, camp, and exposition.

Now on to my biggest fucking complaint about the game so far and given what I've read (without spoiling anything), I'm ultimately going to be disappointed in the long-run by the romances. My mage committed to Emmrich and I love him. He's wonderful. Read on for some spoilery-ish facets of his romance.

SPOILERS

He's an artist. Both with his magic and his words. He's sophisticated and overly romantic in such a respectful way. Rook's interest in him takes him by surprise because I believe canonically there's an age gap (that I headcanon away), but it's adorable. Plus, graveyard dates. He's very Gomez Addams but without all the public displays of affection (which I also headcanon away because fuck that noise).

END SPOILERS

My last point in the spoilers section about Emmrich's romance is my biggest complaint of the game. There's very little actual romance! And it's because you can't roll up to your companions at any given time and open a dialogue with them. There's no open conversation option. You only get to talk to them if they have a time-sensitive marker or a quest marker on their icon on the map. No free smooches on the ramparts!

And the romance moments we do get are so few and far between in a game that is absolutely massive, not in terms of map size this time, but in terms of content. There is so much good content (as opposed to the shit side quests of collecting 10 bear asses in the Hinterlands of Inquisition). The side quests all feel directly tied to the area's story so they all feel worth doing. We're never doing dumb shit like drawing constellations in the sky or finding shards through tranquil mage skulls (don't ever forget that they used the skulls of mages forced into tranquility specifically for this purpose).

Now I'm not through the whole game yet, but I'm hearing and seeing that there's next to no nudity. Given that on top of the lack of open convos and sparse romantic content, I'm bummed. I still love Emmrich, and I know I'll enjoy the others when I do get to them (because I plan on it). But damn. I was hoping for Desk Scene (iykyk) levels of spice outta this crew.

That's it. Halfway through the game and this is how I feel so far. I'm thoroughly enjoying the game and will continue to binge it. I have Rooks planned for the rest of the companions, too. Femme elf rogue crow to romance Davrin, femme qunari warrior lords of fortune to romance Harding, femme human shadow dragon rogue to romance Neve, femme elf warrior veil jumper to romance Bellara, masc elf mage grey warden to romance Lucanis.

I'd like to see your thoughts!

[evanhereonearth]

Banal Nadas

I wrote this literally years ago, but it actually became canon, so beware spoilers for Veilguard. (I feel powerful, lmao.)

Ilaana Lavellan meets a spirit in the Fade in a moment of anguish--a spirit with a lesson to help her save her beloved.

***

“It was not supposed to happen this way,” the spirit breathes, and it sounds so like him that I am rooted to this patch of the Fade.

“His words,” I say softly, looking around as if I will see his eyes upon me, as I so often have.

“Yes,” the spirit says. “You are here now, and it has happened this way.”

“This is also correct.”

I am in a vast forest, the Brecilian Forest, I think, though I have never seen it in life.

“To find interesting parts of the Fade, one must be interesting.”

“Also his words.” I look at the spirit curiously. It hovers between two enormous ironbarks, titans in their presence, the two trees so close they should never have grown to such size.

The metaphor sinks in a moment too late. I wince.

“Ar lath, ma vhenan.”

Curiosity will quickly become annoyance. I move onward, trying to hold tight to my purpose tonight. I’m running out of time. I’m running out of time.

“Var lath vir suledin!” The spirit is anguished, as I was anguished when I said the words.

I stop. “My words. Why?”

“In another world.” Something of this spirit clearly relates to me and Solas so strongly it seems to want to regurgitate much of our most painful conversations.

“I’ll bite,” I tell it. “Why not this one?”

“You are asking better questions,” the spirit says.

It turns away, in a different direction than I planned to go, but I have made friends with Acceptance, Compassion, Wisdom, Hope. I have even soothed Despair into Resolve. Apathy into Purpose. I am a Dreamer, now, in full. If I am not so skilled as Solas, well. Empires and nations rose and fell while he learnt what I have tried to cobble together in a handful of years with a ticking clock ready to explode the world. Demons come to me to find themselves. Sometimes they try to kill me. Usually I reach for them, and they change. Sometimes they change me, bit by bit.

If this spirit wants me to follow, I will follow.

It moves down a path between trees, and it gains form as I watch, but it holds nothing for long. It looks like him for a moment, then it looks like me. I see him as I saw him in Redcliffe, in Haven, in the ruins, over the broken fragments of his orb. I see myself with my vallaslin, without it. I see myself and Cullen, eyes full of love, under an arch at Halamshiral with Mother Giselle there to marry us. I am wearing a white dress, such a human dress, such a human thing, but with my long-gone vallaslin clear on my face. I am dressed as a sentinel, a Sha-Brytol, a Keeper, a scout. I am resplendent in robes of gold and silver, my hair sparkling with diamonds like stars. He stands proud, Fen’Harel, a rebel god who loves me. My freckles are gone. My freckles are darker, my skin tanned and weathered by the sun. Scars cut through my face. I am missing part of an ear. Solas is scarred with red lyrium that clouds his eyes.

I want to ask, but not yet.

Instead, I simply follow.

The trees give way to the Arbor Wilds, miles and miles away. I know this place. This is where I met Mythal.

“You should not have given your orb to Corypheus, Dread Wolf.”

The spirit looks like her for a moment, and then she is him, as I last saw him before the Qunari plot. He must have traveled by eluvian from Skyhold immediately after we vanquished Corypheus.

He is a broken man, for a moment. He still wears the jawbone I now carry around my neck.

“I wish it could, vhenan.”

This spirit seems to want to speak with our words, so I will let it. With a thought I am crosslegged in the grass, my fingers feeling the blades. They are so green here, as green as they are in life. The Black City is beyond, over the tree line, waiting.

“Tell me you don’t love me!”

“I cannot do that, vhenan.”

I thought I was somewhat prepared, armoured. But that—

Solas stands in front of me in Crestwood, his hands twitching between looking as though he wants to simultaneously crush me to him and fend me off. He is frightened, flighty, two things Solas seldom is.

The spirit reflects that moment, showing me again the precise moment my heart broke, when Solas decided to be Fen’Harel and not tell me himself.

“You do not have to destroy this world! I will prove it to you!”

My voice, thrown by the spirit, echoes through this bower.

“I will treasure the chance to be wrong once again,” it says sadly.

“Foolish wolf,” I mutter myself.

“There is a place where you can build, grow.”

I am growing weary of whatever games this spirit is playing. I relive these words in my mind every day, every grain of sand that ticks through the hourglass counting down to the moment I will have to face…I have no words for what Solas is to me. Some days I trace the lines of magic that remain in my severed arm, feeling out for the Anchor. Those days I hear him ask if it has changed me, my…spirit, as he hesitated to say with the sun setting behind me on my Skyhold balcony.

What if it did? What if the Anchor is the only reason I love him?

“You are you, old blood older than old. Like calls to like even without a cord to bind them.”

The spirit has resumed its state of formlessness, floated closer while I sat in my pool of constant grief.

“Very well,” I tell it. “Why have you brought me here?”

“Banal nadas,” it says, hovering directly in front of my face like a challenge. It is not Solas’s voice I hear, but mine, gentle. I have never said those words, not like that.

“Banal nadas!” The spirit bellows it at me with my own voice again.

My skin tingles like I am in the waking world in a place where the Veil is thin. I have never felt such a thing whilst walking the Fade, not as such.

“I want to help him,” I tell the spirit fiercely. “Our people have suffered enough.”

“Who are your people, Ilaana?”

“That is the question, is it not?” This time it is I who bring Solas’s words to life, another sentence from a Crestwood heartbreak under the watchful gaze of Ghilan’nain. My lips quirk with a cynical smile. “Solas is my people. Cullen is my people. Cassandra and Cole are my people. My friends on this side of the Veil are my people. You, as well. Dorian, my beloved friend. Varric. The Iron Bull. Sera and Vivienne and Thom. Krem and Maryden, Dalish and Grim. Svarah Sun-Hair and Skywatcher. They are my people, spirit. All of them. Abelas is my people. Mythal is my people. Clan Lavellan is my people. Briala. Charter. Samson. Leliana and Neria and Merrill and Hawke. Alistair is my people. The Wardens I exiled are my people. The templars I condemned are my people. Ser Barris. Belle. Gaspard. Mihris. That bloody piece of self-loathing nugshit Michel is my people. Felix and Alexius. Gatt and the Viddisala. Elera and Dagna and Valta and her titan friend. Rage and Despair and Pride and Wisdom and Acceptance and Justice and Vengeance. They are all my people. All.”

I am angry now, angry enough that I feel the energies blazing off me like a pyre. If Solas is walking the Fade just now, he will certainly see me, feel me. We never have had to try hard to find one another here, and I am screaming in an echoing hall loud enough to wake Elgar’nan himself. That stupid prideful Evanuris who likely started all of this, he is my people too, for all he’d scrape me off the bottom of his gilded fucking boot.

“Do you hear me? Do you hear me, Dread Wolf? Dirth ma, harellan, vhen’an’ara—ane emma!” I yell the words into the Arbor Wilds, at the Black City, at any spirit who will listen. “You are all my people, and I am trying to save your foolish, thoughtless chunks of Fade-stuff and meat from yourselves!”

The spirit in front of me looks suddenly pleased.

“An answer a long time in coming, Inquisitor,” the spirit says, almost preening.

“Who are you?” I ask it bluntly. “I am tired of trying to help those who are determined to cut off their own feet because they don’t like the shape of their toenails.”

“Vivid, as always.”

“I asked you a question.”

“You asked a good question. I brought you here to hear, to listen, to scream. Has it helped?”

“A bit,” I admit. I feel lighter. Apparently my quiet footsteps through the Fade were possible because I’ve been bottling up every part of me for so long.

“Good,” says the spirit. “You asked my name, and I will give it. But first, you need to understand the most important thing I have said to you.”

“Which is?”

“Banal nadas,” the spirit says again.

“That one isn’t leaving my memory any time soon,” I say. “Your name, if you please.”

“You carry a heavy weight, as you have for so long, Ilaana. Your name, Ilaana. In the place of sacrifice. How much have you sacrificed?”

“Enough,” I say. My arm twinges. That is the least of it. I am no less than I was for a foot or so of missing flesh. The words I said to Ameridan. It takes everything from you.

“You look ahead with purpose, and you look ahead with grief, because the weight pressing upon your shoulders does not let you breathe.” The spirit looks like me, now. My face, without my vallaslin, with my freckles, the new scar on my nose from some Qunari Sten or another. My dimple. “You cannot see a way out.”

We are back in the forest, a different forest, and the trees are oppressive. They crowd around us, leaning over my shoulder, draping their leaves over my neck. I can almost feel their breath.

“You are telling me everything I already know.”

“You may remember the words, but you need to know, truly know. Eolasas, da’len.”

It changes to Solas’s face in Redcliffe, his eyes pulsing with red lyrium. Its voice repeats his words.

“You would think that such understanding would prevent me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.”

Anger flares again. I am surprised that this place has not been swarmed with spirits. The trees could very well be rage demons, every one.

“I couldn’t stop him,” I tell the spirit, and with those words, my anger cracks in half. In its core is only sorrow. “He left. He left again. He left again, and he called me vhenan.”

“Yes,” the spirit says. “He has done these things. Over and over, he has done these things. He is as trapped as you are. But the trap is of your own making. Time is no flat circle, da’len. You are thinking in too few dimensions.”

I sit in silence for a time, feeling at the edges of my hurt. I long for Cole’s comforting presence. He is somewhere in the Fade. I suspect he is with Solas. He told me he had to go where he was most needed. Or perhaps Cole is simply with the other spirits, sharing himself with them, preparing them. Where he is most needed. That would be a very Cole thing to do.

Everything that has happened has happened. I could not stop it.

“Banal nadas,” the spirit says again, insistently. “You make a tragic mistake, Inquisitor. Ilaana, da’len, da’lath’in. You must listen. You must see. What are all of these voices, save one?”

The one the spirit is speaking of must be my own, yelling its words. The rest are—

“Memories,” I say flatly. “Reminders of my own failures. I should have told him in Crestwood that I knew—”

“He would have fled. Likely, anyway. Banal nadas,” the spirit says, this time almost as if a joke. “Your instinct held your tongue because you knew him to be afraid. You yourself were afraid, thought you could keep him near a while longer, that it would give you time you had no way of knowing was running out.”

“Yes,” I say. “And then he was gone.”

The weight of the jawbone against my chest is usually a comfort, even in the Fade. Not now, not really.

“What is a memory?” The spirit asks me this as if it is speaking to a very dense rock instead of a person.

“A fragment of perception rooted in a moment in time that has passed,” I say.

“Time that has—” the spirit leads.

“Passed.” I stop, looking at it. It looks like me again, hopeful. It looks like I looked when he asked me to dance at Halamshiral, that horrible night, that wonderful night, that night that gutted me from the inside and built me anew all at once.

The night I learned my lover's true names.

“Before the band stops playing, vhenan, dance with me.”

His hand outstretched to me, his smile full of love. Moments before, the easy pressure of his hand against my shoulder, a comfort, knowing I needed his touch more than anything else.

“The past,” I say slowly. “Banal nadas.”

“Yes,” the spirit says, and the trees pull back from their crowding, letting through a burst  of air, cool air, memory of a spring breeze. “You carry the weight of it, and you let it lead you, but you are letting it press you into the ground, da’len. You are like him. Like calls to like. His past weighs him as well, and it will crush you both, the past, if you let it.”

“You make it sound like…” I trail off.

I’m being obtuse, now. Of course I’m being obtuse.

It is easier to believe I cannot prevent whatever happens. It is easier believing, accepting, resigning myself to fatalism. Whatever will be will be. I remember what Acceptance said to me so long ago, that it could see many paths for itself without becoming any one of them. I have forgotten that wisdom. I have let myself become the one thing I cannot bear because some part of me thinks it is easier than believing I could build it better instead.

“I am frightened,” I say. “He said he walks the din’an shiral. He chose for me, and I am furious at him. He said he could not do this to me, but he will do it to himself. He says he will, and he condemns me to accept it. But what he accepts, I do not have to.”

“Yes, da’len, continue.”

“I am afraid.” Afraid does not even come close to what I feel. I am half a breath from shaking to pieces.

“I know, da’len.” The spirit looks like Keeper Deshanna now. It sits in front of me wearing June’s vallaslin.

“I have said I will save him, that I will prove to him, but I haven’t believed it. I haven’t been able to believe it.”

“Your love for him is so deep that it reached me in the farthest depths of the Fade,” the spirit says softly. “You are on the shore watching a hundred-foot wave threaten to crush you, and you believe if you run, if you fight, if you try and do something, it will wash you away no matter what. It is easier for you to believe that what is past will dictate what is future.”

“Yes,” I say. “You are correct.”

“But that is not how anything works, da’len. It may seem it sometimes, but do you know what it took for him to see you at all? How many ages he lay sleeping in sorrow, walking paths with friends but seeing nothing of himself wherever he looked?”

I shake my head.

The grove around us is quiet, peaceful now. It is the grove in the Dales, the one where we once moved together with our magic, our mana, our staves. It is the grove where he gave me his glyph-chilled water and I wiped a droplet of it away from my cheek and he told me that he had yet to see my indomitable focus dominated.

I wonder if it has been as fascinating as he expected, watching me crumble under our combined pasts.

“A thousand thousand variables, a weave of time and circumstance more delicate than the Veil itself,” the spirit says. “You are real, and it changes everything, but it can’t. Do you not hear the contradiction in his own words?”

“Yes,” I say.

“You are real, da’len. You are real, and you change everything.”

His words, and the spirit’s. They mould to something in me that I have not felt in months. I have felt this future bearing down on me like the wave in the spirit’s metaphor, ready to crush the life out of me, out of my people—our people—and the person I love enough to save. I have waited for him enough. Atisha, Ilaana.

I breathe slowly, my mind clearing. His words, to me. In hindsight they feel both inevitable and deeply cracked, waiting to be moved in another direction.

“Yes,” I say, this time because it is the only right word to say. “Thank you. Thank you, hahren.”

“Nuvu lasa su ma enaste, da’len.”

“Why have you done this for me?” I ask. It still has not told me its name.

“You are not the only one who loves him,” the spirit says simply. “I would not watch him suffer more. I would not watch the weight he carries grow. And he is not the only one who loves you, da’len. I would be remiss if I did not try.”

“You are saying—”

“I am saying banal nadas.”

Yes. Yes.

Banal nadas.

Nothing is inevitable.

“Thank you,” I say again. “Ma melava halani.”

“Sathem lasa halani,” the spirit says. “And now you must go. You have a great deal of work to do.”

“Wait,” I say as the spirit rises, once again formless, shifting every time I blink. “You promised me your name.”

I wait for a moment, wondering if it will be Hope. Faith. Even Love, something as simple as that.

The spirit looks like him once more, and it reaches out to touch my cheek the way he so often has. It tugs his favourite curl.

“Possibility,” the spirit says.

I wake.

***

Lavellan: Banal nadas. Ar lath, ma vhenan.

[nanoa1foryou]

Some points from Johannes' interview on the Arto Nyberg show on 10.11.2024

Johannes was asked what makes him nervous anymore, since they've had quite a lot going on already.

He said trying things for the first time and those moments where he "kind of doesn't know" how things will go. He also said it's what keeps live shows interesting, as things are never quite the same between shows.

They showed him a small compilation of some of the things from last year

His topmost reaction was that in the first and last clips they showed, he was nervous and still remembers that. Also that the moments showed feels like a forever ago, despite having happened last year.

"We've talked about it with Jonttu and Aarni that it feels like one year has fit at least three years."

Johannes was also asked about his songwriting process

He said he on average writes something down every other day, and that these sporadically compiled notes are what becomes the song texts. He also said he does this to take pressure away from the actual moments when he's supposed to write.

He also noted when asked further about themes or messages of the songs that that's not something they intentionally pick going into it, but that he has been very happy to see people for example finding and connecting with the message of hope from their last album and the comfort it has provided.

Johannes was asked to sum up the time after UMK, and this is what he responded:

"Well, maybe just that, that a lot of everything has happened. We've gotten to do the kinds of things that we've like nine years ago dreamed of and everything has actually been just as wonderful as we've imagined. That has been in my opinion like very wonderful that often you hear this narrative of 'when these things happen you won't be happy and you'll feel hollow and you'll be somehow tied up' but my experience has been the opposite. Sure, there have been long days and exhaustion and all sorts of things but we've had an incredible few years here."

Johannes was also asked about the very immediate success of the band from the start.

Johannes responded by saying that they've been and continue to be very lucky, and that from day one it has been a group effort. He said he acknowledges their privilege of having such skilled people around them that they get to work with.

The habits and routines of the band, such as the fiilisrinki were asked about. Here's what he said about all that:

"Well, we spend with Aarni and Jonttu horribly much time together. Like probably on average 6 days a week and then we've just noticed, that so that our collaboration and friendship that are in this kind of happy mess together all the time stays aerated* if we make time for talking about our feelings, were they small worries or big or whatever, the communication is really important."

*He literally said oxygen-rich. Meant essentially the same as fresh, aired out.

(Follow up question: What do you tell each other?)

"Well there are different kinds of days so it really depends on what is going on but usually band practice or sessions start with that we kind of force our selves into that moment, that now is the moment we talk about feelings. And then usually it clears the air a lot."

They asked Johannes about his career as an actor as well, such as how different it possibly feels to take the role of a singer vs actor and so forth

He said that making music happens for him just as easily when someone orders him for a job as for when he's under no requirement to make music, saying that he has more of a need to make music as opposed to acting, which he says he's gladly do it when asked. He also noted that performing a character is in some ways much easier that performing yourself.

Finally Johannes' family background was brought up

Johannes noted that maybe the biggest effect it has had was the freedom to fulfill himself in a safe and encouraging environment, and that the creativity was fostered in his family but never pushed onto him or any of his siblings.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Star

Okay, so a quick disclaimer, I can't exactly tell you how I got here from Star. It made perfect sense when I started writing, and by the time I got to the end it very much did not. I think it was maybe about being the star of the wedding? Star musicians? A mystery lost to time.

TAZ Bingo!!! From @taznovembercelebration

Barry hated weddings the most. Not every single one, some of them were sweet, he loved how the swell of music could leave the masses misty eyed, how he could accentuate beautiful moments and help build memories, all from his perch way above the crowd. But weddings brought demands, and this one had brought the most of all. When both sets of parents turned up to the initial meeting with the couple and all of them had a lot of thoughts, Barry had decided to triple his usual price to ensure they didn’t hire him. They did anyway, but at least he could think of the money while he played the same entry music over and over again so that the bride’s parents could yell at her about getting the cue right. He’d feel sorry for her, but she had also been a nightmare and frankly, Barry hated everyone in this wedding. He hoped they never got divorced because he didn’t want to deal with any of them ever again.

Apparently they ‘needed’ some strings ‘to round everything out’ as if the organ wasn’t enough. The violinist was “stopping by” tonight. Barry hoped they weren’t as awful as everyone else.

“Lup, you’re late, the musicians go up there. You’ve got the music, yes?” If they were speaking to them like that then Barry assumed he might at least have an ally, he lazily played the entry queue again, stopping to allow more yelling once the cue was, once again, not quite right.

He felt someone plonk down onto the stool next to him. “Yo, Barold, right? I’m Lup. I hear you’re responsible for swelling organs right across town.” Lup smirked suggestively and waggled her eyebrows. Barry felt every inch of his stupid skin flush red.

“I… yep. Organs.” Great. Good. Yes. Excellent first impression. Nailed it.

“Barry. From the top again.” Came a voice from the lower part of the church.

Barry quickly sat up straight and flexed his fingers.

Lup clicked her case open. He did his best to ignore her. “So…” She whispered in his ear. “You do everything they tell you? Never considered just, playing the wrong piece? I’ll give you a tenner to play the Imperial March instead.

Barry stopped as more yelling commenced below. “Look, this is my job, I can’t fuck it up… as much as they deserve it.”

Lup rolled her eyes and muttered “nerd” under her breath.

“What, you’re just going to play whatever you want are you?” Asked Barry.

“Babe, they can’t control genius. And they also can’t fire me without paying because I saw them coming and triple checked the contract with my lawyer, so if I fancy a quick burst of La Cucaracha no one can stop me.” Lup said, smiling wide.

Barry rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to get peer pressured into misbehaving.

“Barry! We’re not paying you to warm the stool, play the song! There’s plenty of two bit organists we can get to take your job if you don’t want it.” Yelled a voice from below them.

Barry began to play. It took Lup a few bars before she started sniggering. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Barold.”

Barry ignored the confused voices below and continued to play a slow and elegant version of Motorhead’s Ace of Spades.

[heyclickadee]

Okay but for all we know Saw and his buddies picked Tech up (alive) on Eriadu.

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in