#It's like this with every game not going to lie

[cjlouwho]

“The team is off this year, and you are too, so I’m going to show you what a real Thanksgiving looks like.”

That’s what Buck had told him a month ago, a late night discussion in bed at the loft, Buck’s shoulder healed enough to lie down but Tommy making no effort to leave him.

Being off for Thanksgiving was rare, both of them being off was practically a miracle. Buck was determined not to waste it.

He’d asked Tommy about what his Thanksgivings were like growing up. Tommy had told him, the first few he could remember were his dad yelling about something not being done right and his mom ending up in the bedroom crying.

After she died, there was no more Thanksgiving at all. The only thing Tommy would do, more for his mom than anything else, is make her “special homemade dressing” (a box of Stovetop), and cranberry sauce. He’d eat it alone in the kitchen while his dad downed one beer after another in his chair in the living room, watching whatever game was on.

And once he was an adult, he worked pretty much every Thanksgiving, so he didn’t think much of it.

Buck had kissed him hard after that, promised this year would be different. They’d all be at Maddie and Chimney’s place, but everyone was going to pitch in with the cooking. There would be kids running around, and games, and way too much food, and maybe once everyone else left they’d watch a Christmas movie.

Tommy played it cool, but he felt like a kid on the inside. He was so excited. He’d get to be with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s family, which were his friends too. There would be laughter and embarrassing stories told. The kids would be getting excited for Christmas and he’d ask Jee what she was wanting so he could get her present sorted out. It would be perfect.

Tommy cleared his throat as he turned off the stove, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He set the stuffing on the back burner, letting it sit while he scooped two spoonfuls of cranberry sauce on his plate. From the fridge he grabbed a beer and set it at the table. Then he went back to the stuffing and stirred it, satisfied with the thickness. He added a bit more than a regular serving size to his plate, then walked back to the table.

From his seat he could hear the game on in the living room. If he pretended enough, he could imagine his dad in there. At least then he wouldn’t be alone.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Hii there!! Can you write something about George Weasley where he and the reader have been really good friends for a while but start secretly dating because of some stupid rule like quidditch players can’t date during the season or something like that? And they get caught by their friends being intimate after a game?

Ps: love your writing style so much, your fics are so easy to get into and beautifully written💕

thank you for the request! hope your enjoy 🫶

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| George Weasley x fem!reader

cw: light smut (heavy petting/making out), sneaking around/secret relationship, jealous!george, assault via bludger, oliver wood is a cock block.

MDNI 18+

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You were walking down the hall with Luna, chatting about the results your divination exam, when a hand shot out and yanked you into a dark, empty classroom.

“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.

“You can't just kidnap me, Weasley.” You cross your arms over your chest, jutting out a hip.

“Kidnapping is a bit dramatic.” George’s hands slide around your waist. “Can't a bloke want to spend a few moments with his girl?” He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.

You craned your head back for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. But still, some warning would be nice.”

His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.

You breathed a content sigh, taking your fingers through his ginger hair while he peppered featherlight kisses along your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. The last few weeks had been so challenging thanks to Woods new rule about dating during Quidditch season.

You and George had been circling one another since fourth year, waiting for the right moment to dip your toes into something more than friendship. And of course, when the stars finally aligned, Wood had to throw a wrench in your new relationship. So now, instead of basking in your honeymoon phase, you were forced to sneak around, hiding your relationship from everyone.

But Fred, obviously. George couldn't lie to his twin even if he wanted to.

“You're in your head, darling,” George murmured, pulling back to look at your face in the dim light.

“Am not,” you argued, dragging your hands down his chest and sliding them under his robes. The sweater beneath was soft and thick, warm from his body heat.

“What are you thinking about?” He kissed your temple, across your cheekbone, beneath your ear…

You hummed, leaning into him, soaking up his heat, his unhurried affection.

“Love?” He prodded, nipping at your ear.

“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.

A smile spread across his freckled face. “My sweet girl,” he cooed. “I like you too.”

You pressed your lips to his, brushing your tongue along his lower lip, and his hands tightened on your waist. He parted his lips for you to delve deeper, matching every stroke of your tongue with his until you were panting, clawing at his sweater to get closer.

He backed you against a desk, his hand sliding under your skirt to squeeze your ass, notching your hips against his. A gasp squeaked for your throat when he ground himself against you, already growing sensitive.

He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”

You nodded, clamping your lips shut.

The Quidditch season was only three months. How hard could it be?

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Quidditch practice ran late for the third night in a row, and you were desperate for some attention from your boyfriend.

You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.

But player after player trailed out of the locker room, and no George. You were getting impatient, shifting form foot to foot when you spotted Fred walking with Ron, chatting animatedly about the match this weekend.

You grabbed Fred’s wrist and yanked him to the corridor you were hiding.

“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”

“Ew, Fred! No! Where's George?”

Fred snickered. “Still in the shower. Pitch was muddy and he got a face full from Thomas.”

You grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.

You scampered down the corridor and into the locker room, following the trail of steam until you found the only drawn curtain. George was humming to himself, tapping his feet on the tile floor.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to avoid laughing and ruining the surprise, and perched on the bench across from the curtain to wait.

A few moments later, the water cut off and his hand poked through the curtain, grabbing the red towel off the hook.

The curtain ripped open, and George yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the towel slung low around his hips.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You grinned.

“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.

“Were you?” You giggled as his lips moved down your neck, sending tingles skittering across your skin. You dragged your nails cross his bare back, admiring the way his muscles jumped at your touch.

“Couldn't stand another night without you,” he admitted. He started undoing the buttons of your blouse, clearly feeling as desperate as you did based on the tent in his towel.

“Eager, are we?” You teased, hiking your leg over his hip as his hand slid into your skirt.

His middle finger swiped through your slit, teasing your clit with small circles. Pleasure pulsed through you, maling your eyes roll back. “Someone is. Already soaked for me, love,” he groaned, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as he toyed with you.

“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.

“Merlin, I missed you.”

“Weasley, you still in here?” Wood called his voice echoing around room.

“Bloody fucking—stall, now.” George slipped his fingers from you and into his mouth, ushering you into the shower stall he just vacated. The air was still humid and scented by his vanilla body wash. No, your vanilla body wash, you realized, spotting the bottle you'd been missing still sitting on the shelf.

“Still hangin’ around, Wood?” You heard George say.

“I wanted to talk to ya’ about somethin’,” Oliver said, and you saw his boots enter the shower room from under the curtain.

“Can I put trousers on first?”

Oliver snorted. “Sure, mate.”

You heard George shuffling around, pulling on his clothes.

“Fucking trousers don't hide shit,” he grumbled to himself and you had a stifle another laugh. “Alright, Wood. What's on your mind?”

“You've been distracted, Weasley. Missing bludgers, ignoring plays, it's not like you to not take Quidditch seriously,” Oliver said, and you frowned.

George sighed. “It's, ah, there's an assignment in Herbology that's gone tits up. Damn plant won't grow,” George said.

“Uh huh,” Wood answered, clearly not buying it. “Well, maybe it's time your sort out your priorities, mate. Not sure a plant is worth throwing the season, if ya’ know what I mean. We need our best Beater, yeah?”

Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?

“Understood, Captain.” George's voice was cold, a stark contrast to his usual chipper demeanor, and it raised goosebumps along your arms.

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder and left the locker room, evidently oblivious to the shift in George. The door clicked shut behind him, echoing around the empty room.

George tugged the shower curtain open, startling you from your spiralling thoughts. He immediately clocked the distress on your face, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Oh, lovey—”

“I didn't know I was impacting the team,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes.

George tilted your chin up, his other arm wrapping around your waist. “Baby, the teams fine. Wood just has a stick up his ass. I played great today, and always do when you're in the stands watching me.”

It was true. Some of his best games had been in the last month you'd been together.

“And besides, I don't need to sort out my priorities.” He bumped his nose against yours. “You always come first, y/n.”

Your heart soared, heat creeping up your neck. “Before Quidditch?” You asked, curling your hands into his hoodie.

“Before everything.” He kissed you softly, with no real pressure, just feeling you against him, and all your anxiety fell away. “C’mon, Freddie's going to a Hufflepuff party tonight, so we've got my dorm to ourselves.”

You kissed him again, smiling. “Sounds perfect.”

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Brooms whizzed over your house’s section, whipping your scarf around your head.

“Go George!” You cheered, when he drifted nearby, twirling the bat in his gloved hand.

He flashed you a wink before banking left, whacking the snot out of bludger that was hurdling straight for Ron. It rocketed across the pitch and directly into the other houses Seeker, giving Harry the advantage.

“Woohoo!” You cheered with the rest of the student body. “Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

“Good game, aye?” A guy sidled up next you, leaning against the railing. You sort of recognized him from your Potions class, but couldn't be sure.

“Great game,” you replied, turning your attention back to the match and your boyfriend.

“Are you fan? Of Quidditch, I mean?”

“Mhmm—go Ron!” You cheered, tuning him out.

“I'm Gus, by the way. We're in the same Potions class?”

“Hi, Gus.” You give him a tight smile, hoping he takes the hint.

“Y’know, maybe we could study together sometime. Merlin knows Potions isn't my strong suit, but you seem pretty smart—”

“Get after it, Harry!” You roared as the Seeker flew overhead, the snitch just a few feet out in front of him.

“What do you think, y/n?” Gus prodded.

Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”

Gus’ smile faltered. “Well, what about the next match, then? Maybe we could sit together.” He scooted closer you, infringing on your already limited space.

You squirmed closer to your friend on the other side of you, who was too wrapped up in the match to notice your discomfort. “No thanks, Gus.”

“Oh, c’mon. I promise I'm a nice guy.” He dropped his hand on your knees, and you wrenched yourself away.

“Don't fucking touch me—”

A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.

You jumped back, falling into your friends laps, and Gus shrieked like a banshee, his face blanching white at how close it had come to taking his head clean off his shoulders.

An ear-splitting whistle interrupted the resulting chaos.

“Weasley, out!” Madame Hootch hollered.

You straightened in alarm, finding George hovering at the center of the pitch, his bat gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were locked on Gus, dark and smug, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“George, land!” Wood bellowed, and George finally floated back to earth. You could hear Oliver shouting, but couldn't see George from your seat.

You fought your way out of the stands, trying to push your way towards the locker room.

Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.

Your mind raced from the adrenaline. Did George do it on purpose? And if he did, why would he jeopardize the match like that?

You found him in the locker room, undoing the ties on his robe. He was still in his uniform, sweaty and smeared with dirt, his hair flat from the helmet.

“George,” you said, and he looked up.

“Love, what are you doing down here?” He frowned, reaching for you, but you held your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. His frown deepened.

“Did you do that on purpose?” You demanded.

“Of course I did,” he responded, not a trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Why? They won't win without you!”

“I don't care about the bloody match, y/n.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

George walked over to you, cradling your face in his gloved hands. “That guy was bothering you, yeah?”

You almost denied it, but found yourself nodding, unable to lie to him.

“And you thought I was going to sit back and let someone make you uncomfortable? My girl? Fuck no.”

You giggled, his protectiveness spurring a wave of affection and dissolving your anger. “I think nearly killing him was a bit much,” you snickered.

“Are you questioning my aim?”

“Just your sanity.”

He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”

You swatted his hands away before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for kiss. He tasted of salt and peppermints, his skin smelling of turf and fresh air, with a hint of that masculine musk that made your head go a little fuzzy.

He kissed you back, catching your lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. You moaned against him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and taste you.

“I'm done hiding,” he murmured when you both came up for air. “And Wood can bugger off.”

The mixing shouting of the crowd filled the quiet air around you. “Ravenclaw scores another twenty points!” Lee declared, his voice notably unenthused.

George shook his head with a smug chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours. “See? They need me.”

“Weasley!” Oliver shouted, startling you both. George looked up, tightening his grip around you. Oliver didn't even bother to act surprised. “You're back in,” he sighed.

A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.

“Good man,” he replied, dropping a peck onto your lips before doing his helmet and running back out onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd.

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

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Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[illbegottenfaith]

lucky pt 3 - theo nott x reader

Theo doesn’t seem to care about you, and you can only lie to yourself that it doesn’t bother you for so long

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - the final part! so happy to finally write a happy ending :’) wasn’t planning on writing this until my finals were over but um here we are 🙈

tropes/warnings - tw smoking, a lil slapstick comedy ft the other slytherin boys, slight platonic hurt/comfort, angst, soft ‘smut’ (quite mild idt it warrants an 18+ tag)

word count - 3.4k

Two can play a game.

A week had passed since you submitted your Potions project, and after that one night of Theo staying up to help you, things went back to going from bad to worse. What were once paltry tiffs had now disappeared altogether. Theo attended and left lessons as if you didn’t exist. And you supposed you didn’t. At least, not to him.

Ivy worried over you, bless her. She’d noticed how listless and distracted you’d gotten, how much more prone you were to staying holed up in your room, how exhausted you seemed by the most mundane tasks. But this was something even she couldn’t help with. No one could help, you decided mournfully, resting your head against your dorm’s cool window pane. So here you were, staring out the window at 6.30 am on a Monday morning with irritated and aching eyes after a restless night of tossing and turning.

That was when you decided that the only thing there was to be done in a situation like this was to do what you did best - going head-to-head with Theodore Nott. He wasn’t the only one who could play at being emotionally avoidant, and it would be a cold day in hell before you let Theodore Nott best you in anything, including this.

And ignore him you did. You didn’t know or care if he noticed, but soon your already limited interactions became highly unabsorbing and apathetic. You barely acknowledged him in your shared classes. You matched every careless toss of his head with one of your own. As little as Theo cared, you could care even less. 

Finals came and went. The morning after your last paper Ivy came barging into your room, demanding you come for an end-of-semester gathering by the Great Lake the next day. No amount of begging or burying your head in your pillow seemed to deter her. She was determined to see you there even if she had to drag you out herself, the recluse that you had become. She finally left after you very unsportingly relented and unsuccessfully tossed a book at her head.

You were already regretting being worn down by the next morning when you were deciding what to wear. Was Theo going to be there? Not that it mattered. You weren't about to pick an outfit around a guy who may or may not be present.

You met Ivy and Katie near the castle entrance and once you started walking down to the lake, you started feeling better about your decision. The weather was surprisingly cooperative and it was perfect picnic weather, if a little windy. It was a little early, only shortly after breakfast, and the refreshments were still being set up. From the few that had already arrived, it seemed to be a rather intimate gathering of mostly familiar faces. If you were especially lucky, Theodore Nott might not make an appearance at all.

You watched a group of Slytherin boys flail and struggle to set up a folding picnic table and put a sheet over it. Enzo Berkshire had flopped onto the table to stop the sheet from flying off while the table groaned underneath his weight. Draco Malfoy was crossly telling him off and trying to get him to stand while Mattheo Riddle stood a little to the side, still frowning over the table's instructions. Draco had now moved onto threats when there was a terrible creaking sound and the table collapsed under Enzo.

"I was just about to say," Matheo started offhandedly, while Enzo moaned pitifully, "I don't think we put the table together right."

"I told you we should have waited for Theo."

Speak of the devil.

“Ladies,” Theo drawled from behind, in his appealingly lazy accent. You turned to see Theodore in a relaxed button-down folded at the elbow, wearing a simple but likely designer pair of black sunglasses, holding a red solo cup. You instinctively glanced at his tanned forearms before snapping your gaze back to his face. Did he notice? It was hard to tell with the sunglasses.

“Hi, Theo,” Ivy said awkwardly when you stubbornly refused to respond. “What's that you got there?”

"Punch. Enzo had me taste test it."

"Oh. Is it good?"

He gave a wry smile. You wanted to roll your eyes. You had no patience to tolerate his irritating posh affectations.

"A little strong for my taste, but it'll do."

"Have you seen Ivan?"

He waved his hand carelessly. “He’s…around.” He turned, peering in the distance. “Right. There he is, by the steps. He’s bringing the drinks.”

“I’ll go help him!” Before you could reel Ivy back in and threaten her to stay with you, she was already halfway down the path, heading straight for her boyfriend. You scowled, your impassive mask shattering. You turned back to see Theo grinning at you with his stupidly mysterious sunglasses and you shot him a dirty look. 

“Nice weather we’re having, hm?”

You schooled your features and shrugged noncommittally. The silence stretched unbearably between the two of you. Theo vaguely gestured to the boys with his cup.

“I should help them with the table."

You stayed tight-lipped, refusing to give in to the sense of camaraderie he seemed to be trying to foster with you. After all, you weren't friends. He made sure of that.

As he set his cup down and started looking over the instructions with Mattheo, Ivy returned, drinks and Ivan in tow.

“Punch?”

You raised your eyebrows. Even from a distance, the bowl reeked of booze. Still, you accepted a cup, downing it even as your eyes watered. You pulled a face.

“Merlin, that’s awful. Pour me another.”

You ended up sitting in a cluster of lawn chairs around a picnic blanket with Ivy, Katie and some other girls in your year. You were all giddily tipsy and in very silly moods, gossiping and swapping terrible first date stories.

The drunker and drunker you got, the harder it was to pull your eyes away from Theo. After all, as your inhibitions dissolved, what was there to stop you from glaring a hole into his skull?

Not that he noticed. He was sitting some distance away with his own friends, examining the bottom of his red Solo cup disinterestedly. The other Slytherin boys were absorbed in a spirited game of Exploding Snap. In the unassuming midday sun creeping up on them, he was a refreshing sight, sleek and cool in ways mere mortals could only dream of wishing for.

You scoffed under your breath. What, were his childhood friends too boring for him? Was that it? Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? You had half a mind to strip naked and run into the lake. Maybe that would finally be captivating enough for the oh-so-hard-to-impress Theodore Nott. 

How many other girls did he help write essays for late into the night, letting them doze, holding their hand? You shook yourself. He never held your hand. He helped you with your project, brought you breakfast, and that was it. Still, your gaze stayed fixed on the back of your hand. Whatever possessed you to think he held your hand?

The sky had gotten a little cloudy. Theo pulled off his sunglasses, blinking, and cast his eyes around, looking for a place to put them. Finally, he settled on hooking them on the open collar of his shirt and looked rather pleased with himself. It was almost endearing.

Your gut told you to avert your gaze, but you didn't, and the next second his gaze was on you. For the first time in weeks, his eyes met yours, intense and unforgiving. You told yourself it was just his gaunt complexion and bruise-like eyebags, but that didn’t stop your throat from seizing with some inexplicable want. Even when he moved away to rejoin his friends, your skin tingled; your body positively thrummed with it. Any hope of playing at sanity was out the window at this point. No, you just had to accept that the two of you would always be unfinished business.

But that was it - he wasn’t playing at this like you were. This was all a pretence for you; the unaffected stares, the nonchalant nods, the afterthought smiles. This was all just you pretending you weren’t watching his every move. Pretending your attention wouldn’t stay fixed on him in a room full of burning bodies.

But he wasn’t pretending. Not for one second.

All of a sudden, you felt queasy. You were going to be sick.

"Y/N?" Ivy was saying, looking concerned as you unsteadily got to your feet. You could feel the back of your neck prickling with Theo still watching you.

"I'm - I'm fine," you slurred, fanning yourself weakly. "Stay - I'm okay. Just...s'hot. Need to -" 

You put your cup down somewhere, stumbling back to the castle as fast as you could, your head spinning as the ground wobbled dangerously under you. You weren't sure how but you somehow made it to your dorm, flung open the bathroom door and reached the toilet just as your stomach started emptying its contents. 

You vaguely registered that you had never been this drunk - it felt like you were slipping in and out of consciousness. You were only distantly aware of a familiar pair of hands holding your hair back, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you heaved. It was a cathartic kind of release, a purging of all the toxic anxiety that had been festering inside of you. And just like that, a dam broke. You started crying, sobbing like the world was ending, slumped against your best friend.

“Oh, Y/N…”

“I don’t understand,” you choked out, leaning your forehead against the tiled bathroom wall. “Why doesn’t he like me anymore? Why does he h-hate me?”

Ivy delicately smoothed some of your unruly hair down. “He doesn’t hate you, honey.”

“I’m not a k-kid, Ivy," you hiccuped. "You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings.”

Ivy hugged you close as you sniffled. “I’m going to kill that asshole if Ivan doesn’t beat me to it.”

“No,” you said in a shaky voice, gingerly sitting up. “Promise me you won’t tell Ivan.”

“Y/N - “

“They’re friends! I don’t want to spoil that for him.”

“Trust me, if he knew what Theo was doing, he wouldn’t be feeling all that friendly.”

“Don’t, Ivy,” you pleaded. “This is just…it’s just between us. I’m fine, I swear.”

Ivy looked highly unconvinced. You let out a frustrated sigh.

“Look, at least give me a week to work through this on my own, alright? Then you can sic your boyfriend on Nott.”

“You’ve already had your week. Weeks, in fact.”

“Ivy.”

She pursed her lips. “Fine.”

You felt a lot more sober after throwing up. But you still weren't feeling up to returning to the party, so once you finally managed to shake Ivy off, you wandered the deserted halls of Hogwarts. Just like that one evening lifetimes ago, when Mattheo had insinuated Theo might have a thing for you in the library, you ended up at the Astronomy Tower.

It was peaceful. You could see why Theo liked to come up here to think. You looked up as you heard a scuffling sound from behind one of the pillars, near one of the stone arch windowsills. You walked over to find Theo sitting there, smoking, his long legs barely fitting across the length of the window. He didn't expect to see you either, if the way the cigarette was dangling from his lips was any indication.

“Put that out.”

It was the first thing you had said to him in weeks. You felt almost as surprised as he looked. He started, as if he had forgotten about the cigarette, and took another puff.

“I said,” you started again, half-heartedly raising your voice, “put that out.”

It was weak and unsurprisingly ineffective. If Theo picked up on what it truly was, a plea for normalcy, he didn’t let on.

Your already thin patience snapped. You stalked over, stealing the cigarette from his lax fingers. What you weren't expecting was Theo's fingers closing around your other wrist and firmly pulling you down to press his mouth hard against yours. It was a clumsy mess of teeth and tongues as you ungracefully reached for his arms to steady yourself. His grip lessened when he got the inkling you weren't about to pull away and sock him in the jaw. His hands drifted to your waist as the two of you fumbled for a more proper kiss. You could taste the lingering salt of the cigarette and your senses felt overwhelmed by the distinct feel of Theodore Nott.

“Tesoro -“ he wheezed, twisting away from where your hand had dropped to his bicep, the smouldering cigarette having singed through his shirt.

“Shit, sorry. How do you -?”

Theo plucked the cigarette from your hand and dropped it on the floor, grinding it with the heel of his shoe. He looked up to where you were still hovering above him before pulling you down into his lap by your hips. He grabbed your wrists, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you had to bite back a smile over how adorably particular he was.

“Telling me where to place my hands? And I thought I was the bossy one.”

Theo quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm just sick of waiting." He tipped his head back against the rough stone wall. "And...wanting."

You smoothed a thumb across his collarbone, not missing the way he shivered under your touch. “So what do you want, Nott?”

He tipped you forward, kissing you much more properly this time. You didn't bother pulling much away as you broke apart, whispering with your faces inches away.

“We're actually doing this.”

“Seems so.”

He cupped your face, swiping a thumb under your eyes as his expression flickered.

“Were you…crying?”

You sniffed, dragging his hand off your face, and looking away. "Just - allergies."

Theo blinked, watching your face with a stunned (and slightly dumb) expression as if you hadn't said anything.

“But you never cry.”

You gave a bitter smile. “Congratulations, Nott. You’re officially the first person to ever reduce me to tears.” You desperately hoped he would drop the subject. Just talking about it was enough to make you want to start sobbing again.

"Did someone say something to you? I swear I - it's not because of me, is it?"

Your face crumpling was the only confirmation he needed. “It was like you - I don’t know. Like you hated me, or something.”

Theo captured your hands in his own where they had slid down to his chest. “I….hate you?”

“Or something. Probably the something.”

“But - why? How? If anything, I’d say you hated me.”

Your lips parted as your brow furrowed. “What gave you that idea?”

“What gave me the - I don’t know, all the scowling? The glaring? The snide remarks? The bodily harm?”

You flushed at the memory of the Potions storeroom incident. You could kind of see his point. “That was one time.”

“You owe me new pants, by the way. New pants and a new di-“

You muffled his rant with a kiss and instantly felt him relax beneath you, the tension and annoyance draining from his limbs as he moulded your body to fit more perfectly against his. So eager, so insistent, so different from the past couple of weeks. 

“I don’t know," you started once you pulled away. "This felt worse than hate. It felt like…like you couldn’t even be bothered to hate me." You swallowed hard, eyes fixed on where you were fidgeting with the edge of his shirt's collar. "As if that was how little you thought of me.”

"Mia cara," he sighed, almost dejectedly. "Small is the last thing I think of you." He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly, searching for the right words.

“I’m not good at expressing…fondness.”

“No. You don’t say.”

He wet his lips. You could see the smile he was holding back.

“I’m not good at being honest or direct. Everything - my mind, it’s a mess, it’s always about what I want, and how to get what I want, I never - I never meant to make you feel that way."

Maybe it was still all part of some elaborate scam. But sitting there with the rough stone arch digging into your sensitive skin, the distant scent of holding Theo's face in your hands like he was moonlight, you believed him. You didn't even have to try. You just did.

“I’m not used to playing the part of the fool, bella. But when I see you smile, or read, or fiddle with your hair…" He reached out to free the lock of hair you were nervously tugging on, "...I never feel more foolish.”

"I don't think I've ever hated you either, for the record," you said, smoothing out his shirt where you had crumpled it in your fists. "I might have thought I did, but..." you trailed off, looking into his mesmerisingly blue eyes. No, you decided softly, you never could hate the boy.

"I never thought anything could come of us. You were - you are - so brilliant. You're on the road to brilliant things. I was only going to get in the way. And...I don't think I could live with myself if I did." He glanced up and, seeing the crestfallen look on your face, hastily amended his statement.

"That, and you had no patience for pretty boys.”

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I have no patience for you, either.”

Theo grinned, shifting you up his lap, as if you could never be close enough to him. He looked so carefree you couldn’t hold back a small smile of your own. “You keep me so humble.”

“I try.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tracing burning expanses of skin, staring at each other like you could never get your fill. You’d occasionally press soft kisses down his neck and jaw while his hands would drift up your ribcage or down your thighs. Both of you moved at an unhurried pace, because now you had all the time in the world to have and hold each other.

“It’s getting late,” you murmured, hours later, now tucked into Theo’s side as you lightly traced shapes on his chest. It was pleasantly warm and given the late hour, you could feel your eyelids growing heavier. When he didn't respond, you lifted your head.

Beneath you, Theo breathed deeply and evenly, looking half-asleep. You rolled your eyes and gave him a hard jab in the ribs.

“Hey. Nott.”

Theo grunted, stirring, swatting your hand away. You grinned to yourself - annoying Theo would never lose its appeal. Eyes still closed, his hand haphazardly searched for you to once again pull you against him. You ignored his efforts, deliberately unhelpful.

“You need to pick another name, y’know. This whole last-name business isn’t going to fly as my girlfriend.”

You felt yourself unreasonably perk up over his words. “Your girlfriend? Me?”

He cracked an eye open. “I thought the exclusivity thing was obvious. You're a serial monogamist.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

Theo groaned, too tired to keep up with you. He rolled you onto your back and propped himself up with a forearm. You giggled softly, flustered by the heat in his gaze.

“Then I guess you’re lucky I like kissing you the best, amore.”

He dropped his head, and you got the distinct impression you could never tire of the feel of his hands and lips on you. 

“What were you saying before?” Theo inquired, while his hands continued their distracting exploration under your clothes.

“It’s late.”

“Right.”

“You have Charms right after breakfast. We should,” your breath hitched, “um, go to bed.”

Theo grumbled something in the crook of your neck, sending the most delicious vibrations down your spine.

"Fine," you sighed, encircling your arms around his neck. "Five more minutes."

He barely made it in time for Charms the next morning.

[walkietalkiemaniac]

giggling cuz I just saw that Drake is trying to sue over Not Like Us, saying it was because of the bots. how dumb could he be. the entire internet was clowning on him for months. Brands, sports teams, entirely unrelated corners of the internet. It was catchy as all hell. I need to go relisten now to reexperience how funny Not Like Us was. he's just refreshing it for so many of us

hes so fuckin stupid its fascinating. like im sick of talking about how evil he is, knowing hes not getting anything close to the consequences he actually deserves, but besides his legitimately bad character hes also so fuckin stupid.

like EVERYONE knew from the day it dawned on us he lost the biggest beef very embarrassingly, that all he had to do was to lie low and wait till it faded out of the immediate public attention and just come back with "good*" party music. EVERY reactor advised him the same thing, me and the anons here lamented the fact that he could just do that and be relatively fine. but hes addicted to pissing and pooping his pants in public idk.

i think kendrick is done with him though. i feel like hes going pretty parallel to my "Kendrick Is A Professor Explaining His Thesis" post and hes pretty much done with the example of drake. he'll have his fun abt how that all went down and laugh abt how he telegraphed BOTH his own moves and his opponents moves in Euphoria, but his focus shifted to the bigger game and lecturing the viewer on hiphop as an art form, and as a culture. so curious to see how he moves from here.

*no drake music has ever been good tbh, depending on the criteria of course.

[0lliecl0wn]

PUNCH OUT HEADCANONS: Clueless Friends Edition

so i showed my friends the punch out cast and asked them to make up headcanons for them (they have never seen nor heard of punch out outside of me rambling to them about it)

so uh

here it is

GLASS JOE

-Wet the bed as a kid

-Probably still does it

-Denys it

-Goes honk shoo honk shoo when he sleeps

-Had a mullet in middle school

-Has to draw on his eyebrows

-Mouth Breather™

-Wears a cap and nightgown and holds a candle at night

-Can’t swim

VON KAISER

-Bartender

-Screams into his pillow at night

-Screams like a little girl

-Wore light-up Sketchers in middle school

-Got bullied for it

-Goes to the gym to cope

-Fucking YEETS the dumbells

-Flexes on people (also to cope)

-If he is told to sleep on the couch, he will sadly sulk there like a emo person (cue sad hamster music)

DISCO KID

-Babygirl

-Zesty

-Took ballet/gymnastics

-Optimist

-Accidentally broke a trampoline

-Was the popular kid in school

-THE sweetest guy

-Cat person

-Owns 4 cats

-Wears fluffy robes

KING HIPPO

-Plays League of Legends

-Tweaks out HARD at Angry Birds and Super Mario Wii (friend is totally not projecting)

-Really good at board games

-Gamer

-Patrick Star kinnie

-Does NOT cackle. He giggles

-Has Live Laugh Love framed over his toilet

-His snores have caused earthquakes

-Heavy sleeper

PISTON HONDO

-”He did WHAT in his Honda?!”

-Behaves like that one English teacher you had in middle school

-aka the ”Never in my 15 years of teaching have I seen a substitute report this bad” teacher

-ponders

-Dances to animation memes

-Worked at Burger King once

-Constantly pissed

-Goes honk mimimimi when he sleeps

-If he ate a cheeseburger he would explode

-Was the guy who made the post that just says “everytime a new chicken sandwich releases”

BEAR HUGGER

-Smells PUTRID

-Real name is Cleetus

-Lumberjack

-Has a lisp

-Gets food in his beard

-Eats it (EWWWW 🤢)

-His theme song is “Entry of the Gladiators” (aka clown music)

-Wouldn’t survive a day in the military

-Plays Microsoft Flight Simulator

-Goes “weeeeee!” as the plane flies

-Has a poster that says “Eat Slur Game Repeat”

-Redneck

-Has a shirt that says ”These Fists Are Rated E for Everyone”

GREAT TIGER

-HOT

-Has the most beautiful hair but hides it

-Binged My Little Pony

-Binged Twilight

-Plays with Barbie dolls

-Listens to Kpop

-AMAZING at Just Dance

-Also good at DDR

-Plays Pikmin

-Loves the Stone Pikmin

DON FLAMENCO

-Once got addicted to cough drops

-Uses really bad pick up lines

-Does really bad trickshots to impress girls

-Slips like a cartoon character. His shoes go flying every time

-Watched MLP with Great Tiger

-Watches Mean Girls

-Kins Regina George

-Cried when she got hit by a bus

-Zesty

-Scoliosis

-Can pick my friend up with one hand

-Would lean on a wall, say “hey cutie, you free tonight?” and immediately have a coughing fit

-Took an Am I Gay? Quiz. It said yes and refuses to believe it (internalized biphobia)

-Likes big butts and he cannot lie

ARAN RYAN

-Menace

-Actually very lightweight, refuses to admit it

-Bullies kids on ROBLOX

-Keeps getting censored in chat

-Plays Dress to Impress

-Would hit you if so desired

-Uses Joker quotes

-Bakes pink cupcake in spare time

-Would make a balloon animal for a kid and then pop it like Gru

-The guy he tickled in his character intro was Don Flamenco

-Killed someone, steals, graffitis, takes candy from babies

-Should be in jail

-ADHD

-”Ya prob’ly got cheeseburgers in those gloves, have ya Mac?!” “well you have horseshoes”

SODA POPINSKI

-Dropped on the head as a kid

-Nicknamed ”Pinhead Larry”

-Oiled up

-Naturally loud

-Skipped leg day

-Mr. Krabs walking sound when he tiptoes

-Speedruns Hello Neighbor

-Hands are too big for the keyboard

-Makes dad jokes and laughs at himself because no one else laughs

-Gets bullied by Aran Ryan for his dad jokes

BALD BULL

-Someone threw a bowling ball at his head

-Peak Male Performance

-40% chip (context for this is in comments)

-Watched game shows, was in one once

-Blurts out the answers at the TV, gets pissed every time they get it wrong and screams

-Screams like the ash baby

-Shakes randomly

-Ate lead paint

-Ate a glow stick

-”ladies, ladies, calm down, theres enough of me to go around” (stolen from don flamenco, difference is this actually works)

-ash baby coded???

-Teeters on the line of being ugly and hot

-Gets beauty sleep

-20 step skincare routine

SUPER MACHO MAN

-”he looks like a founding father”

-Shrimp posture

-UGLY??

-Listens to phonk unironically

-Has jiggle physics

-Uses his chest to type on keyboards

-says “eureka!” when he as an idea

-FAKE chain

-wears speedos (canon)

-its his only outfit

-played five nights at freddys and shit himself

-Pimp

-GILF

-Looks 72, is 27

MR. SANDMAN

-Drag Queen

-Chappell Roan listener

-Once tried to wax his nose but got q tips stuck in it

-REALLY into horoscopes and gemstones

-NAPALMED a homeless shelter

-Dances like the dame tu cosita guy

-fucken BUSTS IT DOWN to every song

-Throws gang signs in his boxing gloves??

-Does the Omni-Man squat sometimes

-Ate a lightbulb and that's why his skin glows

-Skips to the song “Mr. Sandman” because he’s babygirl like that

LITTLE MAC

-Floats in the air when he smells pie

-Anime protagonist

-Loves Ben 10

-Had a greasy mohawk

-Ate a bug

-Sticks his head out of the car window

-Gulps and goes “EEEYIKES!!!” when he has to fight a strong opponent

-Listens to Mitski

-Loves the movie Ratatouille

-His favorite character is Remy’s brother

-Makes kandi bracelets

-Asserts dominance by T-posing

DOC LOUIS

-Wears yoga pants

-Has asthma

-Runs up the stairs on all fours

-Maximum silly

-Watches romcoms and cries

-Draws watches on his wrist and looks at it when someone asks him for the time

-Watched Skibidi Toilet AND knows all of the lore

-Doesn’t know what a tampon is

-Listens to the song that goes “once I was seven years old”

-Mama’s boy

-HORRIBLE driver

[oneshotnewbie]

Hi, can I request a one shot regarding JJ finding out Y/N (her GF/Wifey) was in the videos of the BAU Gate as well. Though she tried to hide her fear behind her smile, JJ saw through it.

Y/N excused herself and went to hide out at the roof, crying silently as memories of her past abuse came back to her, and JJ went to her knowing she would be there.

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes spoilers for Criminal minds evolution and the topics/mentions of abuse, pornographic videos and swearings. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The meeting room was silent, except for the quiet hum of the laptop in front of you. Jennifer Jareau sat at the table with a tense posture, her fingers firmly on the touchpad. The files on the screens seemed like a dark abyss that she had to venture into. Next to her, you, her wife and colleague at the BAU, sat back in only a seemingly relaxed manner. But JJ noticed the subtle tension in your posture, the barely perceptible trembling of your fingers that you hid in your lap.

The "BAU-Gate" was no ordinary case. Elias Voit, the psychopathic perpetrator, had not only targeted the team members, but distorted their intimacy and identity in the most cruel way. Animated pornographic videos, designed with a disturbing precision, were distributed in the darkest corners of the Internet - videos that degraded their personalities and touched on their deepest fears. JJ had never worked on a case where she felt so vulnerable and personally attacked.

"You don't have to do this alone, JJ. Let the others help." You said gently, placing a hand on her upper arm. Your voice was calm, but the blonde could hear the tension behind it.

JJ looked at you briefly before looking back at the screen. "I'm not alone," she said quietly. "You're here with me. That's all I need."

You kept your eyes on her as if you were looking for a way to dissuade JJ from this plan. But you knew that was impossible. Once JJ had made up her mind about something, she wouldn't be dissuaded.

She clicked on the first file. The video began with a still image of her face in a grotesque manner. Even after seeing it several times, it still hurt her to see herself in such a position - dehumanized, degraded. She pressed her lips together in a thin line and fast-forwarded.

"JJ.." your voice sounded cautious. You had leaned forward a little, as if you wanted to prevent JJ ​​from doing this to himself again. "I'm okay," she answered briefly. But that was a lie. She wasn't okay. Nobody would be. But she had to be strong and go through it to finally put that bastard behind bars - for you, for the team and for herself.

She paused the video, clicked it away and opened the next file. This time her breath caught and her heart skipped several beats. She could hardly breathe. A figure appeared on the screen that unmistakably represented you.

"What the.." your voice died away and you stared at the screen as if the ground had been pulled out from under you. There was no sign of your relaxed posture anymore. JJ could feel the cold anger that ran through every fiber of her body and rose up inside her like a volcano about to erupt.

"That is you," she said quietly, disturbed and yet full of anger. Her voice was dangerously calm, but inside she was seething. "Voit has it in for you too."

You laughed dryly, but it sounded forced. "It's just an animation, JJ. Nothing that could harm me, a total fake. You know he..." you paused when she looked at you - with that piercing look that disarmed you every time.

"Y/n," she said urgently, turning her upper body towards you. "Don't try to downplay it. You are, and you know it. He's using you, your face, your... body for his disgusting games with us."

You looked away, your smile remaining like a fragile mask. "It's not important. Really. I know it makes you angry but... Let's just move on, okay?"

But JJ was not fooled. She knew you too well, you weren't her wife for nothing. She saw your jaw clenched, your fingernails digging into your palms just to calm yourself down. And most of all, she saw the fear in your eyes - a fear she had rarely seen in you in all these years.

"Y/n, talk to me," JJ said, gently touching your shaking and sweaty hand. "What's going on in your beautiful and brilliant head right now?“ You pulled her hand back, suddenly stood up and turned to the door. "I... I just need a moment, okay? Fresh air. I'll be right back."

"Babe..." her voice was full of concern, but before she could say anything, you were already out the door with quick steps and out of her sight.

JJ knew exactly where you were going. As she walked down the long hallway, she felt a mixture of worry and anger. Anger at Voit for putting her, and especially you, in this situation. Worry for you, for having to go through this. JJ took the stairs up every other hour, her steps getting faster the closer she got to the roof.

As she pushed open the door to the roof, the cold wind of the evening hit her. She spotted you immediately. You stood with your back to her, near the edge of the roof, your arms wrapped around you. JJ saw your shoulders shaking. It was a sight she found hard to bear and never wanted to witness. Her wife, the strong, indomitable agent, was crumbling before her eyes

"I knew I would find you here. You've always loved the view from up there," she said, stepping closer cautiously. She spoke calmly, but firmly enough for you to hear her.

You don't turn around. "JJ.. please. Just go. I just need.. I just need a moment alone."

"I'm definitely not," she said firmly. She had promised you years ago that she would always be with you - for better or for worse. And this was a bad time that you would both get through. Together. "I'm not leaving you alone, Y/n. Not now."

JJ paused in her step, only a few inches away from you when you spoke again. Your voice was soft, a nearly toneless whisper that was swallowed by the darkness around her. "This brings everything back, Jayje... Everything I've tried to forget."

The blonde stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, like a fragile porcelain figurine that could shatter at any moment. "Baby, what do you mean?" Her words were gentle but insistent, her eyes searching your features for answers.

You backed away, as if you were afraid of the question. Your shoulders shook under an invisible weight, your hands gripping the edge of the parapet. JJ cast a worried glance at the dizzying depths below you.

"I can't," you whispered, your voice shaky. You turned to her, your eyes red with suppressed tears. "I can't explain this to you. You'll see me differently."

JJ's heart skipped a beat. She had never seen you like this before - so small, so vulnerable, so full of fear. It was as if a wall that JJ had never noticed had suddenly cracked and behind it lurked a pain that she had never suspected. She took another step closer, but kept a cautious distance. "Y/n, I'm your wife. You can talk to me about anything. I love you. There's nothing that can change that."

You snorted bitterly, tears running down your cheeks. "Nothing? Do you really think you could still love me if you knew what I am? What I was?" your voice broke on the last words, and you looked away again, as if you couldn't bear to look at JJ.

"What you were?" JJ's voice was a whisper, but her insides were practically screaming with worry, escaping into the slightest tremor of her entire body. "Babe, what do you mean?"

"It's not important," you said with a forced smile that was more like a grimace. "It's over. I should just be over it. But now... now Voit has brought me back there." Your voice got rougher, the words came faster. "His videos. Those perversions. They... threw me back into the past. It feels damn similar, at least."

JJ stood frozen. She knew she had hit upon something central, something deeper that you had hidden all these years. "What feels similar? Please, talk to me." You suddenly turned back around, your eyes filled with tears and anger. "I know what it's like to be used, like a thing, an object! I was... a victim of violent things. For years!"

The words hit her like a blow. Her breath caught and her mind was spinning. She searched for something to say, but your voice now cracked as you continued. "I was young. Naive. Ignorant of my sexuality. And my ex... he forced me to do things you couldn't even imagine existed. He destroyed me, JJ. And I... I let him win. I let him win because I was too weak to fight back. Until I finally left him."

Your voice broke and you gripped the railing tighter, your knuckles turning white.

JJ felt her heart being torn apart, piece by piece, as your confession washed over her. Tears welled up in her own eyes, but she blinked them away. You needed her now - not as an agent, not as a colleague, but as her wife. As someone who could catch you if you fell.

"Y/n," she finally said, her voice quiet but firm. She stepped closer until she was standing right behind you. She carefully put her hands around your waist, letting you know she was there. "What happened to you... it wasn't your fault. Never. You weren't weak. You survived. And you're here. With me."

You laughed bitterly, a sound that broke JJ's heart. "Survived? That's called surviving? Look at me, JJ. I've been hiding my whole life. From myself, from memories. And now... now this sick psychopathic guy is using me as a toy for his power games. And I... I can't breathe, Jayje."

JJ pulled you suddenly and tightly into her arms, holding you as if she wanted to hold together the parts of you that were threatening to fall apart. "But you can breathe," she whispered in your ear. "You're stronger than you think. And Voit has no idea how strong we both are together. But I know it and you know it too. And I'm going to hold him accountable, babe. For what he did to you and us."

You shook in her arms, and eventually the tears continued to burst out. She turned you around when she heard the sobs, your head leaning against her shoulder, and JJ just held you, stroking your back soothingly while she waited for your storm to subside.

When your sobs finally subsided, she gently lifted your face and looked you in the eyes. "We're going through this together. Like always. Everything. You're not alone, baby."

You looked at her for a long time, your eyes still wet, but something in your gaze had changed. A spark of relief, maybe even hope. "I love you, JJ," you whispered. "But... what if I'm not good enough for you anymore? With all the baggage you now know about?"

JJ rested her forehead against yours. "You are more than enough. For me. For our lives. For everything. Even more now."

The night air was cold and the wind whistled around you, but in that moment everything felt perfect. For the first time in a long time, you felt free to have shared your closed past with someone you loved more than anything.

[benjaminvox]

"Loss is loss," Benjamin shrugs his shoulder, huffing a distant sound. Nowhere near a laugh, but more of an acknowledgment. "You shouldn't have had to go through that, anymore than I shouldn't have had to go through the things I did. Fuck, man. We were kids." watching as the beer arrived, and tilting his head in thanks.

The difference between the two men though? Benjamin's anger. That darkness that had been bred, and then honed. Living with vengeance was the only way he'd found any modicum of peace.

'You think it might right a wrong, give you closure — it won't'

Benjamin doesn't agree, and it says so as he shifts in his seat, causing the upturn of the corner of his lips. "Did you seek revenge? For your parents?" a pause. "Or are you guessing that it won't make me feel better?" There was a reason he'd been likened to Johnathan...that unwielded rage that most hadn't yet seen. The need to serve. The need to hurt. It lay under that young boy smile, the yet to age face.

And he needed somewhere to direct it. Finely educated, the only credentials he had was working for Melissa Lin. A title, and a fine reputation in itself...he'd bore quickly. He needed this.

'Whose fault is it then, Benjamin? Hers or yours?'

Benjamin doesn't answer immediately.

He sits on it. Traces condensation dripping down the glass in hand, cold seeping into his fingertips. His first instinct is to deflect, throw some biting comment back at Gideon that might force the conversation in some other direction, but the weight of it all, that fucking question settles heavily on top of him. His life, Melissa, his parents, Étienne...his brothers.

Benjamin felt like the world was weighing down on him, and he was it's sole bearer. It's not the first time he's wondered about it, too many times has it found it's way into his thoughts, his dreams...but having someone like Gideon ask it so bluntly strips away any excuse he might've leaned on.

Any chance he could escape those nightmares.

He's fucking lost. Staring. Like the young boy he was still, rummaging to the surface.

Benjamin hadn't quite lost that to his years yet.

"Both," he finally says, eyes vacant, blue a vast nothingness. He doesn’t look at Gideon, can't bare it, honestly: instead, his eyes finds the drink in his hand. "It'd be hers for pulling the trigger. Mine for giving her the reason to, I guess."

Loyalty was a dog: and he was her hound. Benjamin knows it’s not the answer Gideon wants, not the clean division of responsibility he'd probably hoped to hear. And he wouldn't lie to him, his mind had been moulded to Melissa Lin's tactics some eleven years ago...there was no changing his heel. But it’s the truth as Benjamin sees it. Melissa isn’t without her flaws, but she’s always been clear about the stakes. He accepted them the day he stepped into her world.

Into the Rutherford name. And while she commanded it, he obeyed.

He leans back, letting the chair creak under his weight. "Look, I’m not saying she’s perfect. Far from it, fuckin' hell...I'm meant to be smart, right. But... I owe her. A fuckin' lot. Not just for keeping me alive, but for making me into something. Someone. And yeah, that comes with risks. But doesn’t everything?"

Jabbing a finger over his shoulder, he shakes his head -- aware that there were parts of Melissa that Gideon refused to see. To acknowledge. "My parent's killer is here...drinking, laughing...and Melissa's checked in on me every two hours." The side eye, shoulders shrugging. She was his family. Benjamin knows he's justifying, fuckin' rationalizing. Gideon can probably see through it, but it’s the only way he’s ever been able to make peace. "I know you think I’m just another pawn in her game. And maybe I am. But...I chose this life. I know exactly what I signed up for."

Raising his glass, he huffs. "So if she shoots me one day? At least I’ll go down knowing I didn’t sit back and let the world tear me a-fuckin-part." He leans forward, his elbows on the table. "What about you? You’ve seen the same shit I have. What made you realise you'd never want...this" he knew Melissa well, knew a lot of what went on in the Rutherford's -- it was his job to know.

After everything Benjamin reveals about his past, it's less what he says and more how his voice breaks hoarsely over that single word, 'yep', that coaxes Gideon's begrudging sympathy for him. Silently, he hails the bartender, ordering another round of beers for them. Tonight, Benjamin can acquire his own, compliments of his allocation to the rich tents, but there's some goodwill hidden in the gesture nonetheless.

"It isn't all that similar, and I won't pretend that it is." He replies, concerning the demise of both their biological parents. "A car accident doesn't quite leave the same scars as death by unnecessary violence, and I certainly wouldn't have wanted to see what you stepped into, that day you found their bodies." No, it'd be insensitive to claim that he understood what Benjamin had experienced.

But he does understand loss, through and through. Time and time again.

'I can't let it go.' — That's what he's afraid of, that's the part that will consume the boy, if he lets it. Because the Rutherford's seen that too. Time and time again.

"There are plenty of occupations that don't involve breaking the law, Ben." Lest the young man feel he's trying to step into the role of father, unsolicited, Gideon adds;

"I'm just saying. And the thing about anger, is that there's no end to it. Your anger won't bring them back. Murdering Étienne won't bring them back. You think it might right a wrong, give you closure — it won't." He's seen it play out too many times among other members in his father's mob. Recruited with the sweet promise of vengeance, only to find it hollow once they'd sacrificed everything to obtain it.

'And if I die for it, then... That’s on me.'

Gideon takes another sip of his beer. "You haven't answered the question." The bottle settles back on the table, and the surgeon fixes him with a scrutinizing look. "I'm not asking if you die out of bad luck. I'm saying imagine a scenario where you change your mind. Where you decide 'to hell with it, I don't want to work for Ms. Lin anymore', and she shoots you point blank in return. Whose fault is it then, Benjamin? Hers or yours?"

[northwest-cryptid]

I totally realize there's someone out there who is going to be like "ugh you don't get it fucking weeb" but the soundtrack to Baldur's Gate 3 is so bland and generic and bad in my opinion. The tense moments don't feel tense, the hopeful moments don't have that sting of hope. They're just [Generic High Fantasy Battle Music.Wav] and I kinda hate it.

Like when my partner and I seamlessly worked together fighting literally back to back against a whole camp of goblins horribly outnumbered and using our wits and teamwork to come out victorious I don't want some generic high fantasy background music I want my dramatic EMOTIONAL music with the string instruments and horns section coming in with bright triumphant chords to signify that our heroes are pressing an advantage but uh-oh another wave of stronger goblins showed up and what's this? The music has now shifted to dark dramatic tones with organs and vocal choirs signifying our struggle has turned drastic, now you know our heroes have their backs to the wall, surrounded on all sides and will need to fight tooth and nail to come out in one piece. Only to have that same motif from earlier usher in a hopeful and climactic finale where the whole thing comes together to really sell the impact of this life or death situat-

What do you mean "they're just goblins calm down"? Isn't this supposed to be immersive? Isn't my character's life supposed to be on the line? We're outnumbered 4:1! They have us backed into a corner! Yea I know they only have like 8 HP a piece but- Well no you wouldn't know that if it was real would you? IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE IMMERSIVE OR NOT? PUT THE RULESBOOK DOWN THIS INSTANT! OH FUCK THIS I'M MUTING THE GAME OST AND PUTTING ON MY OWN.

[meamiki]

Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading this link right here to the rb!!)

[stiffyck]

What if people started saying "I need to exercise more" or "I need to eat a bit healthier" instead of "I need to lose weight"

You can be healthy and fat

[itsdefinitely]

do you think boy jerry contemplates clawing his eyes out sometimes

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[deus-and-the-machina]

ffxiv garlemald discourse is so funny because people will go "ugh people just cant stand it when things aren't black and white" and then you look at how the empire are portrayed in stormblood and shadowbringers and its like hm. that seems like a pretty intense and accurate display of violent imperialism to me! Wow I wonder why people in this day and age may find it hard to feel sympathy for them or even hate them on principal. god its such a mystery.

the games like 50/50 to me on how it tackles these themes because I actually like the garlemald arc in EW, I think it has a lot of horrific and powerful scenes depicting how self destructive fascist propaganda and beliefs are, but I also think it doesn't go far enough on some fronts. the garleans' xenophobia is most notably and obstacle to getting them to accept the contingent's help, which is what they're there to do,

but there's never an admission of harm from any garleans on the uuuuuuuuh massive amount of war crimes the nations around them are still suffering from they're just kind of like "we misjudged you...but you actually wanted to help us all along" like yeah thats great now can we get you all some deprogramming because you keep talking about returning to your prime and glory days and I think we need to unpack some stuff you really SHOULDNT return to. im not even really talking about EW proper but the patches where things are a bit more chilled out and people are recovering.

It feels like they wanted to have their critique of imperialism and also have things end with the beauty of human connection and reaching out and these things just don't mesh well because hey a lot of your modern day audience is not gonna like having to treat people yelling xenophobic things at the cast and your character with kid gloves after you showed them hours and hours of the awful things these people's beliefs have done. especially in the present day hoo boy.

[hulloitsdani]

The ways in which I can make book 4 a bad time for Kiran Fire Emblem

[opheliasam]

im actually going to kms will someone get him out of there…

[6ebe]

most annoying usamerican I know just moved back to the states and made an insta story abt how much nicer the atmosphere is at us sports games compared to English football games 🤔🤣

anyway. Just reminded me that there’s so much classicism endemic to criticisms of English football fans. I have plenty of issues myself but football crowds are rowdy bc tickets are cheap. US sports price out the majority of people like I’m sorry that being in proximity to working class people is so terrifying for you </3