#because of how much I’ve loved the last two

[justaghostwithbones]

This is so beautifully articulated. I alternate between sprinting forward to moonwalking back… sometimes years. Sometimes I take up residence in that bygone time, and wallow in trying to change it, while imaging I don’t know how that storyline tragically ends. Sometimes I sprint forward then; start building the blocks of the life that I want. I’ll get it partially built… and then… and then… and then… I’m back in the past again, somewhere else this time. Trying to prevent a different moral crime.

But for just about a month now, I’ve held still (with a moment or two of those springs to half-build things; though instead of running backward, I just pause). I’m learning to crawl. I’m building those skills.

(CW: death, grief, suicide, animal death)

Something I’ve learned, so painfully, through so many genuine tragedies—the death of my little family: first my husband of almost ten years… then the first dog we adopted together (and even the people who hate it when others compare human children to pets would fully vouch for the fact that I showed my guys more love and sacrificed more for them than many human parents of human kids), who died spontaneously in my arms from a condition that couldn’t be screened for. He didn’t suffer, it was fast. I wailed when I felt his last breath. I had never felt something die before and it rewrote some of my DNA. I never wanted to outlive my dogs, and I couldn’t believe I had to. I had these primal screams of rage at “God” for everything I had already lost, but my baby deserved peace from me, even if he wasn’t really “there” at the moment, so I swallowed my rage and I held him for over an hour. Talking about everything he was and everything he meant and all of the people he had inspired with his spunky personality as a rescued dog who had done some time in the streets. I pressed my forehead against the top of his head and health my breath, unable to accept he was gone. I listened to songs with his fuzzy, sweet body cradled close to me while I kissed his face.

His “big” brother, whom we adopted a year later than our first guy, but was triple his size deteriorated quickly, and after torturing myself with data and research, I looked into his eyes one day and knew that he was asking me for help. He’d been to veterinary specialists several times in the previous few months, but there was nothing any of them could do for him. It was just age. He was a large breed dog who was at least 14. They kept telling me I couldn’t have done more. I knew the only help I could give him was to let him go. So I made an appointment and planned for him to pass peacefully under a tree my late-husband planted. I took him to the place where my husband and I got married. I gave him all of the carbs he wanted (once he got into the double digits, he felt he earned the right to snag food, and he never met a piece of bread he didn’t love). I took pictures of him against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains in the summer. I slept on my husband’s side of the bed (because he slept in a raised bed my husband built for him there), so I could pet him all night, every night I still had him. That gold-hearted guy ended up passing two days before this wonderful vet service was scheduled to come to my house… he still couldn’t fully let go, so they made an emergency visit, and he ultimately died in my arms on my late-husband’s side of the bed, after a couple hours of me laying with him and telling him stories and playing him songs and mapping out his irises like they would be my compass, because I had to no idea how to navigate life without his protective instincts. Because I didn’t know if my bones had another loss in them. I silently begged for his wisdom and felt so selfish for not being able to stop time and reverse biology and get more time with him. He loved my husband much more than he loved me, in the beginning, and there was some real poetic beauty in where he chose to let go—he didn’t get up on the bed regularly at that point; he hadn’t for years. But for a couple hours, I got to thank him out loud for everything that I could remember to say out loud. He licked tears off my face. His tail wagged when my mom arrived. I whispered to him until I felt his heart stop, and continued after.

In under 2.5 years, I lost my husband, my career, my health (I still am not allowed to work due to my disabilities), and my babies I’d “raised” for 12, and 11 years, respectively. And I haven’t moved forward. The only reason I’m still alive is that… those weren’t my only two babies. Months before my husband died, he fell in love with a puppy we stumbled upon unintentionally while picking up something from a pet store. We didn’t know there was an adoption event held that day. So just over 5 years ago, now, we adopted a puppy. By now, he’s a “legitimate” service dog (cardiac training), and my best friend and confidante. There have been so many nights where I’ve wanted to unsubscribe from earth but just look at him and know he couldn’t live without me. He is my tether to now, and he is how I’ve navigated losing close family relationships (I didn’t suffer the loss of my husband, career, and babies in a way that was palatable for some people. I didn’t do anything crazy, they admit. I just… cried too much. Wasn’t fun to be around. So they didn’t come around. Or call. Or text. I don’t have any real “social media,” so I wasn’t suffering in their face or anything. I just… wasn’t supposed to suffer at all, somehow). He is the reason I’m working so hard in therapy (and have been for nearly 4 years, but REALLY doing painful work for the past 4 months) in the hopes that I will start to want to wake up. That I will look forward to living. That I am determined to find a way to live and not just exist. That I can build a sustainable way to move forward.

But right now, I’m proud of myself for holding still, even when it hurts everywhere and I know all my internal escape routes, all of the ways I can distract myself, all of my hiding spots, all of the ways I can bleed to distract my brain from its selfish existential suffering. But I’m not using them. I’m just holding still, sometimes shakily, sometimes while holding my breath, sometimes through hours of silent tears running down my face.

It’s a kind of poetic irony that I found this person’s beautiful sentiment—that made my neurons start firing in a way that I could write about things I’ve never been able to speak aloud with any level of detail—on the eve of “spring forward” (though I, along with literally everyone else, hates the fact that we can’t stick to either daylight or standard time year round. It’s literally the only thing there’s true consensus about in the U.S.; sincerely); because that’s what I want to do. Maybe in March I’ll only be crawling, but it’s still forward motion. Because I know I won’t make it through 2025 if it’s like 2024. The world is getting worse and I have every excuse to do the same. The world is getting worse so I refuse to do the same. The world is getting worse so I am going to get better.Not perfect. Not perfectly. Tearfully, painfully, tragically, better. I’m going to keep the coffee dates adults pretend to make. I’m going to meet the neighbors I’ve lived near for 13 years. I’m going to learn how to exist among tragedy without feeling tragic. I’m going to learn to tell the stories of what I’ve lost with the aim of learning to gain things, not as an excuse for why I don’t ever even dare to want anything because I know so deeply the pain of loss. I want to grieve, but not be the physical embodiment of grief. I want to learn how to want things. I want to learn how to say that I want things. I want to learn what I like to do. I want to learn how to find joy and not just be busy.

I want.

how do you reconnect to life after being disconnected for so long

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Baby Preparations

Sam and Dean & pregnant little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re pregnant, that’s literally it, that’s the plot

Warnings: short and sweet, pregnancy and tooth-rotting fluff

“Sam!”

Your voice calling out Sam’s name had him doing a 180, heading back from the direction he’d came to find you. You were sitting on the floor of the War Room, and instead of the usual newspaper clippings and lore books, there were dozens of paint sample cards.

“You need something?” He asked.

You held out your hands to him, as if you were 6 years old again and asking to be carried.

“I can’t stand up,” you huffed. At Sam’s light snicker, you scowled. “It’s not funny! I can’t move!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” But Sam couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he helped you to your feet. “How’s my nephew doing?”

“He kicks like he’s a dang Winchester,” you grumbled, rubbing your stomach. “And every time he moves I have to pee, and he—“

“Ok, ok.” Sam stopped you, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get the picture, and I really don’t need to know more.”

“Coward,” you scoffed.

“Hey, when it comes to my baby sister’s pregnancy, you bet I am,” Sam admitted.

“Has anyone seen my pie?” Dean’s question could be heard before he even entered the room, a quizzical and grumpy expression on his face.

“The baby wanted it,” you answered, drawing an eye-roll and a huff from your oldest brother.

“Is that always gonna be your answer?” He demanded.

“Not always,” you admitted. “Just maybe another two months until this guy is eating his own food, not mine.”

Dean face twisted, but he didn’t argue—he never did anymore, and you took full advantage of it. Sam saw right through how you were playing Dean like a kazoo, but he didn’t comment on it; it was too much fun to watch.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I’m gonna go on a run.”

Without a word, you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and handed it to Dean.

“Again?” He demanded. “It better not be full of weird snacks again.”

“Last time wasn’t that weird,” you insisted.

“I’ve never bought so many pickles or marshmallows in my life,” Dean scoffed.

“It’s marshmallow fluff, not marshmallows,” you corrected.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” Dean asked.

“Because my stomach doesn’t fit behind the steering wheel anymore.” You grinned. “And you never let me drive Baby anyway, so you get to make the runs.”

“Fine,” Dean caved. “But if I see orange-flavored beef jerky on here again, I’m throwing the list away.”

…

“Hey Sam?”

Sam glanced up from his lore book to see you still staring at your paint samples.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I can’t pick a color. Can you help?”

Sam shrugged, ditching his book and coming to your side.

“You really can’t pick?”

“I just…” you huffed. “I want it to be perfect.”

“I don’t really think the baby’s gonna care,” Sam argued.

You were quiet for a long moment, and Sam watched as you started to pick at your hands.

“Hey.” Sam’s hand over yours stilled you. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“I mean…we-we never got anything like this. You know, the rooms and—and a house. But Charlie will…and I want it to be perfect.”

Sam smiled—he loved hearing his nephew’s name, the one you’d chosen to honor your best friend—and rested his hands on your shoulder.

“Charlie doesn’t need the perfect room paint to have a happy childhood. He already has so much more than we had—he has a home, and he has a wonderful mother. He’s gonna grow up so happy—it’s not gonna be like how it was with us.”

“Ok.” You took a deep breath. “Ok, thanks Sam.”

“Any time. And you should totally choose the green.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[judesmoonbeauty]

Lover's Contract: Jude Jazza - Bitter END

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

This is the balcony of the lover’s club.

From here, overlooking the harbor across the street, we could see the ships at anchor.

With binoculars, you can even see the passengers boarding the ship…..

Kate: Ah! I’ve found the targets on the ship’s deck.

Jude: Lemme see.

Jude gazes out at the large passenger ship with the binoculars he stole.

Jude: Looks like they’ll ship off fine.

Just then, the steam whistle echoes and the ship leaves the pier.

Eventually, it disappeared like it was being swallowed by the boundary of where the sky and sea melt into each other.

Kate: They’re gone.

Jude: Let’s go back, ‘fore the princess gets carried away by the mood o’ the club ‘n goes into heat.

Kate: Hey…..I’m NOT in heat or anything!

Jude: Really. Can ya promise ya weren’t thinkin’ somethin’ lewd even once?

Kate: Well, I…..

(I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited by the club’s atmosphere….)

Jude: ….Pff- such a liar.

Kate: Nmm….Mmn.

The sudden kiss instantly robbed me of my thoughts -

Jude: Since ya lied ‘n really were thinkin’ indecent things, I’ll hafta punish ya.

My neck gets nipped and a tiny pain runs through me.

It’s a little similar to the feeling of Jude biting my skin when we make love.

Kate: Mnmm.

Jude: Whaddaya feelin’.

My cheeks flushed when I noticed his exasperated gaze.

Jude: Hah -

Kate: Hey, don’t leave me behind. It’d be better if you just insulted me.

Jude: Yeah, then I’ll insult ya later. ‘Til the perverted princess’s had ‘er fill.

Kate: Who’s the pervert??

Jude: Only other person here.

Kate: Oh, come on!

— The next morning, after being thoroughly insulted by Jude on the way home, we returned to Crown Castle.

Ellis: Kate, how’d the lover’s club mission go?

As I sat down to breakfast, I was greeted with a refreshing smile that seemed to erase my memories of the previous day.

Kate: Thanks being concerned, Ellis.

Kate: There were some close calls, but the mission wrapped up safely.

(I was anxious when the targets were on the verge of breaking up.)

Ellis: Was it dangerous? Did they discover you monitoring them?

Roger: Ellis.

Suddenly, Roger taps his neck with his fingers.

When Ellis noticed the gesture —

Ellis: Ohhh…..so that’s what it was.

He smiled like he just realized something, and then Roger and Ellis exchanged a cheerful looks.

Ellis: I’m glad it’s not what I thought it was.

Kate: U-Umm….what are you both talking about?

Roger: Trying to pretend that you didn’t see it, but it’s backfiring, lil’ lady.

Kate: I’ve no clue of what you’re talking about?

Roger: I’m surprised you thought you could get away with sporting a love bite on your neck.

Kate: A love bite?! Where’s a love bite?

Ellis: It’s on your neck, Kate.

(My neck….Ohh, then)

(Where Jude nipped me last night?)

Suddenly embarrassed, I rush to cover my neck with my hands.

Kate: Seriously, it’s just because Jude was doing something weird.

Roger: Oh, so you admit it.

Ellis: So, it was Jude who did it after all.

Jude: ……Dunno.

Kate: Hey, it’s not fair for you to play dumb. You put it there, Jude!

Jude: Don’t tell each other’s secrets. One o’ the three lover’s rules t’keep, innit?

Kate: B-But still! If this keeps up, people going misunderstand.

Jude: Thanks fer breakfast.

Kate: Ah, Jude!

Without clearing up the misunderstanding, Jude got up and left.

Roger: [Whistles], a lover’s spat first thing in the morning. How passionate.

Ellis: The two of you really are so close. I’m glad you’re happier too.

Surrounded by Roger’s and Ellis’ beaming smiles, I just couldn’t bear it….

Kate: I’m-I’m thankful for breakfast too!

Roger: Oh - she ran off.

Ellis: Don’t tease her too much, Roger.

I hurriedly put my plate down in kitchen, and rushed out of the dining room…..

(Ah.)

I spotted Jude at the end of the corridor, who had just left, and I chased after him.

Kate: Jude, because of you there’s a misunderstanding!

Jude: It’s fine.

(What?)

When he turned around, he had a large smirk on his face…..

Before I could raise my voice, he hugs me tightly, and touches the love bite from yesterday with his lips.

Kate: …..[Gasp] Mmn.

He sucks so hard on my skin, that I involuntarily flinched.

Jude: Wasn’t no misunderstandin’. So it’s fine.

The back of my neck where Jude’s lips had touched felt hot.

(It’s not a misunderstanding….It’s a real kiss mark.)

Jude: ‘Sides, if we’re lovers there ain’t any misunderstandin’ or shit.

Not to be confused with the “aijin” as in “an unofficial/adulterous” relationship. Jude is using “koibito” as in "Lover’s/sweethearts/boyfriend & girlfriend.” I could’ve said bf & gf, but this him being cheeky because the prior night they were pretending to be in an unofficial relationship.

Jude chuckled and then turned around.

(Hey…)

As I reached for my neck, which suddenly flushed, Jude glanced back at me and laughed teasingly.

[Event Master List]

Jude is having so much fun with his Kate! And poor Kate, she was so flustered that she had to have Ellis repeat where the love bite was. It's funny because I remember her telling Jude that he isn't good at handling those situations in his BD event, but it seems the opposite is true lmao.

Tag List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway @nawlink

If you wish to be added (and 18+ YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

[zepskies]

Omg first of all, thanks so much for shouting out As Tradition Dictates, my lovely!! I have more Eomer coming in the near future. 😘

But first *rubs hands together* time to dig into this delectable love triangle...

Dear LORD you didn't have to do me like this from the onset with that opening scene of Butcher. 🥵

No man his age should look that good. 

Correct. 👆🏽 Why is it that rugged men in their 40s attract me more than men my own age. 🫠🫠

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

lmfao Eomer, is that you? ("romantasy" ftw! 😏❤️‍🔥)

The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

lol this is one of my favorite aspects of reading/writing in The Boys fandom - everyone's creativity on creating our own fictional supes that cause mayhem for the boys. 😆😆 (Not "a reenactment of the eighth plague" 💀💀💀)

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Can always trust you to give beautiful descriptions of flora and fauna. 🪴💚

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

Sigh. I can deeply relate to that first part, as you know lol.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

Girl stop torturing me lmfao. (But actually don't stop though) "Big hands" indeed. 🥵

Ben saw straight through her though and I'm living for their dynamic! lol

“He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

Oh how magnanimous of him. 🙄 Like yes, let's all jump (literally) on that opportunity to debase ourselves for his entertainment.

...But of course, there's also that whole ridiculously attractive factor that makes Ben difficult to resist, even though he's a complete asshole loll.

You’d tried the usual things… Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation. Gone completely mute when he asked you a question. Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room. Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

OMFg. That last one is so real! 🤣🤣🤣 I feel for her for real. I wonder how Ben's actually going to help her self-confidence. 💗

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-” Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Awww this melted me so much! She's not in love with him yet, but I think he's gonna bring it out of her on accident with stuff like this loll. Also big surprise on how he said she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. 💚💚 I half-expected him to suggest exactly what she could do for him if she was so inclined. 😆

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”  What have I gotten myself into?

Oh my God, YESSS. She's in so deep already and I can only imagine where you'll take this next if you choose! I can say for sure that I'd love to see how this little scheme unfolds lol.

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

@jollyhunter

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

The Wedding Chronicles - Mattheo Riddle (1)

A/N - These can be read as a standalone set or read after the events of ‘Yule Be Mine - Part 3’. Just some cute drabbles about planning the wedding between you and Mattheo to feed my delusion 😂

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Working out the details

The common room was dimly lit, the glow from the fireplace casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. The scent of smoke and firewhiskey filled the air as your group gathered, sinking into the plush green-and-silver couches, laughter and conversation flowing easily.

Enzo took a swig from the bottle and passed it to Theo, who was already grinning. “Alright, let’s talk about the real issue at hand,” he said, nudging Mattheo with his elbow. “When’s the wedding? Because I need to know how long I have to prepare the best best-man speech in history.”

Mattheo, who had been sitting close to you, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders, smirked. “You’re assuming you’re the best man?”

Enzo scoffed. “Mate, if you pick Draco over me, I’ll hex you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t even want to be best man. Too much work.”

Pansy leaned forward eagerly, her eyes gleaming. “Forget the best man, I want to know the real details. Have you picked a date? A venue? And most importantly, have you decided on colors? Because if you make me wear anything hideous, I will hex you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We haven’t even gotten that far yet.”

Mattheo, who had been twirling your engagement ring between his fingers absentmindedly, glanced down at you with a smirk. “All I care about is making you my wife. Everything else is just details.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and Pansy dramatically clutched her chest. “Ugh, you two are disgusting.”

Blaise chuckled. “It’s true, though. It’s weird seeing Mattheo like this. I swear, last year he was cursing anyone who even looked at him wrong, and now he’s—”

“A simp?” Theo supplied, grinning.

Mattheo groaned but didn’t deny it. Instead, he tightened his hold around you, pulling you into him more. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I don’t care. I’ve got everything I could ever want right here.”

Your friends all exchanged looks, half-amused, half-mocking, but beneath all the teasing, you knew they were genuinely happy for you both.

“Alright,” Pansy declared, “so let’s at least start with whether you want a big or small wedding?”

Mattheo exhaled in relief when you suggested a small, intimate wedding. "Thank Merlin," he muttered, taking a sip of firewhiskey. "The last thing I want is a bunch of people I barely know watching us say our vows."

Pansy, who had been ready to launch into a full-scale wedding planning session, groaned. "You two are no fun. A grand wedding would be iconic. He’s the Dark Lord’s heir, you’re practically royalty."

You shook your head with a smile. "We don’t need all that. After everything we’ve been through, I just want something meaningful, with the people we actually care about. I’m not sure Mattheo wants to boast about his heritage these days either.”

Mattheo pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring, "Exactly."

Draco, who had been quiet, nodded in agreement. "Honestly, after the war, I don’t think any of us need some massive, public event. Something private makes sense."

Theo leaned back against the couch, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Alright, so where are you thinking? Because if you say Hogwarts, I swear—"

You laughed. "No, not Hogwarts." You glanced at Mattheo before saying, "What about Riddle Manor?"

Mattheo blinked, caught off guard. “Riddle Manor?”

You nodded. "It's yours now. It’s part of your legacy, but you get to make it what you want it to be. Why not start by making it a place of love instead of war?"

A slow smirk curled at his lips. "You’re brilliant, you know that?"

"I do," you teased.

Enzo grinned. "I like it. Turning the Dark Lord’s fortress into a wedding venue? That’s the ultimate power move."

Pansy huffed. "Fine. I’ll allow it. As long as you let me help decorate."

Mattheo chuckled. "You can do whatever you want, as long as I get to marry her at the end of it."

Your friends rolled their eyes at his lovesick tone, but the warmth in the room was undeniable. After everything—after war, pain, and uncertainty—you were finally talking about a future filled with love and hope.

And it was perfect.

[peachdues]

thoughts/general gratitude

I just want to take a moment to acknowledge and express my undying gratitude for every single one of you. I know I’ve been slow to post updates (especially for Netherwood), and you all have been so, so patient and vocal about your support no matter how long you have to wait. I can’t thank you enough for that.

To be honest, work has been unending hell for the last four or so months. Part of that is client-based, but another part of that is, unfortunately, personal tragedies and horrible circumstances affecting the other attorneys in my office. One of the attorneys I work most closely with (who is also near my age) has been out for three months while he undergoes aggressive chemo. Another has been in the hospital for the last week with his daughter. Another just received a terrible diagnosis.

Being three attorneys down at work is no small thing — that means, in addition to my own case load, I’ve been juggling the case loads for others as well. That’s not something I mind doing at all, because I love the lawyers I work with. But, that means I’m covering more hearings, have more filings to get done, and more client-rearing to do than normal. As a result, by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is write or tackle a project as big as Netherwood. My brain is fried. We’re also in the process of home renovations as well, which take time.

So, thank you all for understanding and not giving up on me. I know I can’t make promises about timelines, but believe me, I try and squeeze in what I can. That’s why this past weekend was so big for me, because I finally had the chance to write not just a sentence or two, but a full, uninterrupted scene.

I sincerely hope things at work get better soon — namely, because I want the people I care about here to catch a fucking break (god knows they need it). But until then, thank you all so much for your continued patience and support. I love you all more than I can say!

-🍑

[slum-eater03]

DESTIEL FANFIC RECS NOBODY ASKED FOR BECAUSE WHY NOT😍😝

let’s just right into this, for number one, with zero regrets, is Exodus 3:2 by Stayawake (i’m placing links at the bottom of this post dw😘)

this is a very well written fanfic, like beautifully done. i love Deans relationship between Cas and i love how the author wrote his and John’s dynamic, same as Deans and Sam’s and plenty of other characters mentioned.

Cas is written pretty close to canon, i enjoy him in this fic just as much as i do in the show.

it’s pretty much abt Cas moving into a small town and being a pastor there (Dean’s POV of written in third POV) Dean is a hardworking 23 year old who’s trying to keep food on his and his schizophrenic dad’s plates.

the two hang out together and generally, i love every interaction i’ve gotten from the two.

there’s smut but it’s not shown all the way through the whole process, but build up is written very well. over all score, 10/10 i wasn’t able to look away until i finished it.

number two on my list is taken by a 8 chapter fanfic, whom i am proud to present on my list, Damn good times (all the people applaud).

this one, out of all my recs, has the best and most realistic writing. the author put much time into this eight chapter series, and i’m feeling a little guilty this master piece only places second. (again, the link is at the bottom of this post😔).

this beautifully written fanfic is abt just graduated Castiel and Dean (whom are best friends) decide to go on a trip before heading to college. this, just like the other, is only in Dean point of view but also 3rd POV.

Dean is shown in a more realistic way, him being homophobic but also growing. this fanfic shows character growth, and this almost pains me to say, but, “i wish you were a girl”.

the ending is happy and i almost sobbed with joy at the very end scene. this fic is also a 10/10 and the only reason it’s placed second is because i like ranking systems😔 (don’t blame a girl for autism) also there is heavy smut, only in the last chapter tho, i love the build up tho😝 i lied, there’s a joinking scene in like chapter 7?? still peak tho.

and for third and with the same author as seconds place, i proudly present, Roshambo.

i love this fic, it’s, again, realistically written and is written so very well. this one is a one shot, unlike the other two, but this one also has almost 20k words. i enjoy this one a lot because, unlike the other two, this one is based in the OG universe.

i like this one sm, it gets me giddy just thinking of it now.

this one is multi-POV, the POV still in 3rd but this time being of Sam, Dean, and Cas. i especially love Sam’s POV, it’s written amazingly for him (i’m just a angst addict and they added angst into his even tho the main focus of the fic is Destiel).

this one is pretty much one bed trope as a whole ass fanfic. still amazing. i love it.

it’s showing different POV’s, Cas’ being how he likes sleeping next to Dean, Dean being frustrated with his feelings, and Sam being happy for Dean for finally getting a lover.

this one is honestly my favorite Destiel one shot, and, just like the other two, a straight (more like gay🤭) 10/10 fanfic. def recommend.

FANFICTION LINKS😍😍

exodus 3:2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62725417

damn good times (all of the people applaud)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38426173

rashambo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41591274

don’t be shy, comment yours😍 (pls i’m desperate😀)

[sunflowersonatas]

TOO GOOD TO BE FAKE: CHAPTER 5

JAMES POTTER X F!READER

a/n: YAYYYY CHAPTER 5 OUT EARLY!!! i've been so so appreciative of all the love for this series 🥹 i figured it was the least i could do to get my ass up and edit the rest of it. hehehehe enjoyyyyy!!! ☀️🌻

series page for prev chapters

wc: 2197

5: Too Good to Be Fake

— 1 —

The next few days pass in a blur, and my real life and my fake life begin to meld all the same.

It’s subtle at first—little things, easy things. James slinging an arm over my shoulder in the corridor, without thinking about it, his hand drifting naturally to my waist when we squeeze through crowds. Me leaning into his touch on instinct, him whispering a joke just for me in class, both of us laughing too effortlessly.

The stares haven’t stopped. The whispers haven’t faded.

But somehow, I don’t care as much anymore.

Or maybe—I don’t care why they’re watching.

It’s not just the school anymore, though. It’s our friends. Alice and Jade don’t even try to hide their amusement anymore. Sirius has started giving James looks. Remus has started watching me.

Lily Evans has started paying more attention, too.

It’s another Saturday when I realize how far I’ve let this go: Quidditch practice.

I would never normally go to these. I’ve never had a reason to sit in the stands, watching a group of sweaty Gryffindors hurl themselves through the sky while screaming at each other.

But today, I’m here.

I keep telling myself it’s for appearances. People have to see me invested, have to see me acting like a real girlfriend. I bring a book, find a spot on the stands, fold my legs beneath me, and pretend I’m not watching James too closely.

I tell myself it’s just part of the plan. Making it look believable.

And then Lily arrives.

She doesn’t sit. She stands at the base of the stands, arms folded across her chest, gaze fixed on the pitch. I know who she’s watching, everyone does.

James cuts through the sky like he was born to be there, all fluid motion and instinct, his windswept hair a perfect mess, his body moving with a confidence that’s utterly effortless. The sun glints off his grin, bright and reckless, like he’s drunk on the thrill of it, and I feel that familiar lurch within me again—something warm, something unsteady, curling deep in my stomach before I can shove it away.

Lily tilts her head slightly.

Then, she glances back at me; and suddenly, it’s not just a game anymore. She’s watching me watch him. A challenge, a test.

Suddenly, I realize—this isn’t about her anymore. It’s not about making her jealous, and it’s not about Simon either. Because the thing unnerving me the most isn’t that Lily Evans is watching me.

It’s that James Potter hasn’t looked at her once.

— 2 —

The courtyard is quiet in the early evening, the last flickers of sunlight stretching long across the stone pathways. The air is crisp, cool enough to wake me up a little, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. I tell myself that’s why I’m lingering here instead of heading back to the dorms.

Not because I’m waiting for him, and not because I know he’ll find me. But then he does.

James’ footsteps are easy to recognize—a little too confident, a little too deliberate, like he’s always walking into a room expecting something fun to happen. But here, now, he doesn’t say anything right away. He just falls into steps beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, like this is normal. Like it’s always been normal.

I glance at him. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed like you wanted company.”

I huff, turning my gaze back to the darkening sky. “Oh, right. I always exude warmth and openness.”

James chuckles, nudging my arm. “You say that, but you haven’t told me to leave yet.”

I don’t respond. Because… he’s right.

The pause stretches, the courtyard filled only with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. For a second, while it’s just the two of us, walking in relative silence, it’s nice. Easy. Comfortable in a way I don’t have time to question.

Then James exhales, a little deeper than necessary, and leans against the railing beside me.

“You know,” he says, “you’re kind of terrible at taking a compliment.” His tone is too light, too airy for the kind of comment he’d just made.

I frown, caught off guard. “What?”

His gaze flickers to mine, and something in his expression softens—just slightly, but enough that it throws me off balance. “I mean, when I do something nice, you just… get awkward and run away.”

I blink at him. “That is— so not true.”

James lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? So last week when I said you looked nice, and you immediately knocked over your drink and changed the subject, what was that?”

I open my mouth— close it.

He smirks. “Exactly.”

I turn my face and look down the path we’re following, blinking, genuinely considering. “You just catch me off guard, that’s all.”

“Right,” he says sarcastically, “because the idea of me being nice to you is so shocking.”

“Yes, actually,” I quip, but the words come out lighter than I mean them to.

And that’s when James does something dangerous.

He shifts closer—just a little, just enough. His shoulder brushes mine, his voice lower now, softer. “You know, I like being nice to you.”

My stomach twists—thrilled, unsteady, completely betraying me. I let out a laugh, too quick, too high-pitched, a little too obviously forced.

James watches me, expression unreadable, but there’s something knowing in his gaze, something patient, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he’s already figured out.

“Alright,” I say, pushing away from the railing, not letting this get any more real than it already is, not letting myself think too hard about it. “This has been fun, but I’m going to—”

“Walk away before you have to acknowledge that you actually like me?” James finishes for me, eyes glinting with amusement.

I huff, already turning on my heel. “Exactly.”

I don’t get very far. James is right behind me, catching up too easily, too effortlessly, like he always does. “Merlin, if you wanted me to chase you, you could’ve just asked. Would’ve saved us both some time.”

I throw him a glance over my shoulder, my lips curving just enough to make his eyes flicker. "Where’s the fun in that? I like to keep you on your toes, Potter."

James huffs, but the way he watches me—like he's already planning his next move—sends something dangerously close to excitement skittering through me.

We’re walking towards one of the large entrances to the castle from the courtyard— there are some more students around now to witness our little interaction. He’s still beside me, still too close, still too smug.

“So what I’m hearing,” he muses, tilting his head, “is that you like me exactly where I am.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t speed up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

James only grins, falling into step beside me like he belongs there. “Too late.”

— 3 —

The castle is cooler in the evening, the last remnants of daylight casting long shadows through the stone archways. The halls are quieter now, but not empty—the low murmur of conversation lingers, footsteps echo in different directions, and clusters of students drift toward their common rooms, pausing now and then to whisper as James and I pass. My footsteps sync with his, the weight of his presence beside me something I’ve stopped questioning. It’s been like this all week—effortless, natural, dangerously easy. And maybe that’s why I don’t notice her at first. Maybe that’s why I don’t realize we have an audience until it’s too late.

Lily Evans is waiting just inside the entrance hall.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, posture relaxed, but there’s something unreadable in her expression. She isn’t blocking our path, isn’t doing anything at all, really—just watching. Watching us. Her gaze flickers between me and James, taking in the casual way we’re walking together, how close we are, the way his fingers brush against my wrist when he gestures absentmindedly.

She sees it all.

James notices her just a second after I do, and though his steps falter, it’s barely noticeable. I feel the shift in his presence, the way something in him tightens, like he’s bracing for impact. But when Lily finally speaks, her voice is light, almost gossiping, like she’s indulging a passing curiosity rather than confirming something she already suspects.

"You know," she says, tilting her head slightly, "you two make sense together. I see it."

And James—James preens.

I see it happen in real time. The way his shoulders straighten, the way his lips curve just slightly at the edges. It’s instinctive, automatic, like some deeply ingrained part of him just got the validation he never even thought to ask for. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t check my reaction. He just moves.

I can’t even react— his fingers tighten around my wrist, spinning me expertly into him. Somehow it feels like we’ve done this a hundred times before, like we’ve been moving toward this exact moment without even knowing it. His free hand settles at my waist, warm and steady, pulling me close in a way that leaves no space, no room for doubt.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not for show. Not a performance. His lips press against mine, sure and unhurried, like he’s settling into something that’s already his. Heat flares at the base of my spine, climbing fast, white-hot flames licking up through my chest. His fingers flex slightly at my waist, like he’s anchoring himself, like he’s making sure I don’t pull away before he’s had his fill of this moment—of me.

The warmth of him crashes through me, a spark to dry tinder, setting every nerve alight. His lips move against mine, confident but measured, and for a second—just a second—I let myself fall into it. I feel the way he’s leaning in, the way he’s holding me there, the way his breath mingles with mine, like we exist in a pocket of air separate from the world.

But we don’t.

The corridor isn’t empty. The world doesn’t disappear. Students slow their steps, voices hush, a ripple of whispers spreading like wildfire. I hear someone inhale sharply, catch the flicker of movement in my periphery as people pause outright, wide-eyed, watching like they’ve just witnessed something they shouldn’t have.

And they have. Because this isn’t a show. This isn’t a play. It’s real, it’s burning through me, and it’s happening in front of everyone.

I break first.

I pull away too fast, too obviously flustered. I’ve probably ruined everything. I should’ve just played along— like he said to me before, enjoy the experience. I could’ve done that. Now I lost my chance.

James doesn’t move right away. He stays close, his breath still warm against my skin, eyes searching mine for something I can’t name. The silence stretches between us, heavy, lingering, filled with something I am not ready to understand.

Lily clears her throat, but she’s smiling now, something small and knowing. She looks between us, her eyes glinting with something close to amusement.

"Yeah," she says, tilting her head slightly. "I knew it. You two are really cute together."

She doesn’t linger. She just gives James one last look—something approving, something almost pleased—before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving us standing there in the weight of what just happened.

I scramble for something to say, but my mind is blank, wiped clean by whatever the hell just happened. My skin is burning, my pulse erratic, my body betraying me in ways I can’t even begin to process.

I force a laugh, light and dismissive, as if my heart isn’t trying to claw its way out of my chest. "Merlin, James," I say, shaking my head, playing it off, forcing the act back into place even as my hands tremble. "You could at least warn me before you go proving a point like that."

James watches me carefully. Too carefully.

And then, just like that, the mask slips back into place.

The easy grin. The effortless charm. The one thing he’s always been good at.

"Where’s the fun in that?" he teases, voice smooth, casual, like he’s not still standing closer than he should be.

The tension in the air is suffocating.

I step back. I need distance, space, air.

"Right," I mutter, my voice too light, too forced. "Well, this has been fun, but I should go—"

James doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his expression unreadable, like he’s waiting for something I can’t give him. The silence between us stretches, thick, heavy, a question neither of us is ready to ask.

And then, because I can’t take it, because my heart is still slamming against my ribs, because the ground beneath me suddenly feels unsteady—I run.

I barely register the students still watching, barely hear the whispers that are sure to follow me. All I know is that I need to get away, to breathe, to pretend for just a little while longer that none of this means anything.

Run run run.

But no matter how fast I move, I already know—there’s no outrunning this.

☀️🌻 requests are currently open!!

[crowsofdarkness]

Vampire!Eric Draven tried to stay away but your blood calls him home.

18+ CW's below the cut( vampire!eric turning you, blood play, dry humping while you sleep, everything is consensual)

Darkness and silence filled your apartment as you slept soundly in bed. It was an unfamiliar feeling, having the darkness blanket you without a sound, so much as a tickling of a clock but it wasn’t because of how you liked to sleep. It was brought about by the man that stood in the corner of your bedroom. 

Eric brought the darkness with him always. Cloaked himself inside of it because it was all he knew. He thought he’d spend eternity in it until he met you. Your soul bringing just a sliver of light into his darkness. 

Now as you slept, he could see the light cascade around you almost like a halo.

His crow. 

His fangs ached with desperation to taste you, to feel your skin rip apart, and your cries of ecstasy fill the room. It had been a long while since he fed from you, the last time causing a rift between you two. You knew all about Eric, what he was, and it never scared you hence why you offered yourself to him. 

In mind, body, and soul. 

Eric refused to turn you, not wanting this eternal suffering for you. Your light was pure and everlasting, he couldn’t allow you to succumb to the darkness. 

Which is why you fought the last time he was here. Nearly six months ago. He tried to find others to fill his hunger, the void deep within his chest, but he couldn’t. No one was you. 

His crow. 

Ever so quietly, he moved about your bedroom and began crawling up your bed towards your awaiting lips. His long hair fell into your face and somehow you never awoke. You slept in a silk camisole and the blanket hung low on your hips, giving him a slight peak at the crimson panties you wore. 

“I’ve missed you, my love,” Eric admitted into the skin of your chest, breathing you in. 

Slumber still took a hold of you, not even the added weight of him on top of you could rouse you. 

 His cock was hard in his jeans as he pressed his hips into yours, a soft moan falling from your lips. 

“I’ve missed your sounds.” 

Another thrust of his clothed dick over the blanket that lay at your hips and he grunted in annoyance. Eric wanted to feel you. Feel the warmness of your skin against the cold dead skin of his. 

Ripping the blanket off of you, he watched as you shifted slightly but still remained asleep. Something low in his gut stirred to life as he watched your chest rise and fall. The way your lips were parted, a soft snore falling from them. The way your hair was a mess all over your silk pillowcase. 

It was also the way the moonlight broke through your curtains that bathed your milky skin. 

It was then in that moment Eric realized he couldn’t live another month without you. You were the light in his eternal darkness. 

He kissed your name into your jawline. “Wake for me, my crow.” 

A noise that was a mix between a groan and a whine fell from your sweet lips making his cock pulsate and fangs ache. The bright vein in your neck was thick, tempting him but he refrained. 

Not yet. 

He wanted you to be awake for this. 

So he spoke your name again before lightly dragging his knife like fangs over your bottom lip, giving it a soft nibble. 

“Eric,” his name came out breathy and he nearly groaned into your mouth. 

“Fuck, crow. I’ve missed the way you said my name.” 

Slowly, your eyes opened, darting around to your surroundings. Surely you had to have been dreaming. It wasn’t possible that Eric was here, in your bedroom. The last words he spoke to you taunting you for months. 

You felt meek compared to Eric. He was this centuries old vampire who walked the earth alone, refusing to sire anymore in his kin. You were willing to give up your dreams of having children if it meant you would be with him. Eric refused to allow you to give up  something you wanted. Not for him. Not for the darkness he carried. 

So why was he here? After all of these months? 

“Eric,” you spoke again while rising to your elbows; the sleep long leaving your bones. “Why are you here?” 

Those dark eyes bore into you as he licked his lips. “I’ve missed you. I tried to stay away but I couldn't. Your blood, it calls to me day and night.” 

Your heart leaped in your throat but you refused to get your hopes up. 

“But you said-.” 

“I know what I said,” Eric cupped your face. “It took scouring the earth these last few months alone to realize that it’s you I want. Your mind. Your body. Your soul. As long as you’d have me again.” 

Even without super hearing like he had, you could hear how fast his dead heart was pounding in his chest. So you lay a hand to it while peering up at him through lashes. 

“Does this mean you’ll stay?” You asked. 

He brushed his nose along yours. “For as long as you’ll have me.” 

“All eternity?” Your question was just above a whisper, afraid you were dreaming. 

Eric’s tattooed fingers dragged through your hair, brushing it over your shoulder to expose the vein in your neck. His eyes flicked between it and to your face, a silent question. One you answered without a second thought. 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

Linking one of your hands with his, Eric tilted your head to the side with his other and exposed his fangs to the lowlight of the moon. For a fraction of a second you wondered if this was a good idea. You were giving up your life to become one of him. 

A vampire. 

You shook the thought from your mind. You weren’t giving up your life. You were getting a new one with him. Two souls becoming one. Both of your flesh become one. Blood forever intertwined with each other. 

Eric bit into his bottom lip, causing it to bleed before finally he sunk teeth into your neck. You screamed with euphoria as the feeling of him pulling your blood from the vein into his mouth. Eric’s grip on your hand tightened and he rutted his cock into you, causing the base of your spine to ignite with a blaze so hot, your orgasm hit you without so much as a build up. 

[cravingrickgrimes]

MY UNPROFESSIONAL SESSIONS WITH DR GRIMES

PAIRINGS: MALE READER X RICK GRIMES

SUMMARY: AFTER A TUMULTUOUS YEAR YOU DECIDE TO TAKE YOURSELF TO THERAPY AND ADMIT YOUR PROBLEMS. YOUR THERAPIST, DR. GRIMES, SUGGESTS AN ALTERNATIVE OPTION TO YOUR LOVELESS PROBLEM.

NOTES: THIS IS AN ARCHIVED FAN-FICTION THAT I WROTE MONTHS AGO IVE TRIED TO IMPROVE IT BUT OVERALL IT’LL BE LESS QUALITY, ROUGH RICK, DOMINANT RICK, THREE-PART SERIES WITH TWO ALREADY FINISHED. HEAVY, DIRTY, SMUT.

WORD COUNT: 781 APPROX.

NEXT PART: 2/3 —>

CURRENT PART: 1/3

“Take a seat.” The strong built man pointed me to the seat. He pushed his glasses up and i couldn’t help but look at the tits practically forcing themselves out of his shirt. “You’re my 8 o’clock?”

“Um. Yep!” I say slapping my hands on my thighs.

“Let’s get right to it. What’s the problem?” He smiles warmly, the kind of smile that makes you want to spill all of your secrets. Fuck, he’s good.

“I’ve had problems with having romantic relationships… Ever since…”

Dr. Grimes read my file whilst i talked “Last year? I won’t ask what happened, it’s not my place. But i do want to know why you think you can’t love anyone.”

“When was the last time you loved?” He had asked me in his beautiful accent.

“Never, that’s the problem.” Tears formed in my eyes. “As a kid, i didn’t have a single crush with anyone my age.”

Dr. Grimes touched my knee and with sympathy he said, “What if i could teach you to love?”

“W-What- How!?”

“Well, maybe, it’s because you need someone older.” His demeanour completely changed. The kind, muscly therapist was gone. In his wake, a dominant, older, experienced man was let out. Maybe he was right because i did enjoy the way he looked. “I know it’s a lot. This is a method i’ve never tried. But i think it’ll work.”

“I want to try.” I said with a nod. Dr. Grimes sprung up from his chair.

“Okay. I want you to turn around and stand up.” I did as he said. I felt him come up from behind me and grab my waist. He whispered:

“Do you like this?”

I gasped from his cold breath on my ear. “Y-Yes.”

His hips shifted against my ass like a perfect sex machine. Where had he learned to hump like this? He grabbed my hips as moved them lower to the, now huge, tent in between my legs.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked one last time.

“Yes Dr. Grimes!” I moaned as he grabbed me in light of my consent. The line of professionalism and unprofessionalism was blurred as Dr. Grimes tore my shirt off. He sniffed my neck so animalistic i thought for a mere second he had turned into one.

“God. You’re intoxicating.”

I turned around and looked at his lips. They were beautifully plump and were the same red as someone who had just had finished a popsicle.

“Kiss me.” The sentence came out like a prayer. He obliged and pushed his lips onto mine with a ferocity that stunned me long enough for him to reach his tongue to the back of my throat. I slowly undid the buttons on his tight suit. Never had i wanted someone’s body so bad in my life. I wanted to lick and smell every single crevice on his body. Wanted my body to know his inside out. His hair-riddled chest popped out and i couldn’t help myself, i started to suck on his nipples.

“Good boy.”I never thought i’d like being called a good boy. But, for some reason, coming from his mouth i enjoyed it so much. I tongued his hairy nipples with the intent to get rewarded. I should have known better than that.

“Go lower.” He commanded in a deep voice. I listened and licked the trail of hair that led all the way to under his pants. “Take them off.” He looked down at my pleading eyes. A grin formed on his face when he saw me pull out his 8 inch hard cock.

“W-Wow Dr. Grimes Where should i start?”

“M’balls.” Hearing his words twist in his southern drawl even more excited. I instantly got lower and sucked on his right ball. My tongue danced around its shape.

He groaned. “Suck my tip.” I tongued from his ballsack, to his shaft, then his tip as i took his thick purple head inside my mouth.

“I want to see your skill boy. Deep throat me.”

I knew in that moment all i had ever wanted to do was please Dr. Grimes. Despite how untrue it might have been, his mere presence had an otherworldly effect on my body. I took in a breath and took him 5 inches deep before i gagged and came back up.

“Good boy. That might be the deepest someone’s gotten in years.” He slapped my ass as i smiled, wiping the small tears in my eyes from feeling him in the back of my throat. “That’s all the time we have for today.”He says as he signals me to get on my knees, he whispered in my ear, “I want you to practice your techniques. I’ll see you next week?” He asked as i put my shirt back on.

“Yes sir.” He grabbed my ass and slapped it when i left the room. I couldn’t lie to myself, i wanted it to go further. But maybe if i please him well enough next week, he will give me what i crave.

[justascrollingghost]

I’m sorry but Onyx Storm is the worst book of the series so far - don’t get me wrong it wasn’t bad but it’s certainly not Fourth Wing or Iron Flame. There was no point in the book that I actually felt anything other than the hype of the book. Fourth Wing was exciting and heartbreaking and Iron Flame was a book I physically could not put down but this one? I could take it or leave it tbh.. Either I’m a complete genius and have the power of unlocking book plots or everything about the book was a predictable filler..

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[clegfly]

The best worst thing about my PMMM x omori au is combining PMMM’s ending with OMORI’s. Yeah I’d like two depressions for the price of one

(SPOILER WARNING IN TAGS!! MOOTS THAT ARE PLANNING ON WATCHING PMMM (I have a few of you hehe) LOOK AWAY!!!)

[fierykitten2]

I realised last night that Eevee Day and the anniversary of the original Japanese release of the original F-Zero game were on the same day so I wanted to acknowledge that in some way. I haven’t had the time to draw a buff humanoid Flareon (well I’ve had a bit of time but it wasn’t much, I didn’t have my iPad with me because I was out all day, I don’t know how to use Ibis Paint X and I hate Krita so when I did have free time I just played Café instead) so I’m gonna update my pairing-the-Original-Four-with-two-Eeveelutions-each because I’ve changed my mind on some pairings since I made the original post

Robert still gets Leafeon just like before only for a different reason (instead of being an easy choice for the token non-combat guy it’s just that you could argue Leafeon counts as being gold and a fox). He now gets Flareon instead of Sylveon (bonus points if the Flareon is shiny as much as I’ve stated my dislike of Flareon’s shiny in the past)

Falcon still gets Jolteon but obviously no longer has Flareon because I’ve given that to the guy I ship him with instead. Vaporeon and Glaceon were the last two Eeveelutions I paired anyone up with for this post I just knew I wanted Falcon to have one of them. By process of elimination he gets Vaporeon even though I would have loved for him to get a Glaceon instead

Goroh gets Espeon again because I said so and also he feels like the kind of person who would randomly have a Sylveon without anyone expecting it so he gets that instead of the Glaceon I gave him previously

Pico of course still gets Umbreon no question and I just felt like Glaceon was just that bit more potentially villainous than Vaporeon so his Vaporeon has been replaced with a Glaceon

[ranger-danger]

Talking about stardew valley romances is so awkward. My friends are like “oh I love [every single guy, and Haley, but Alex]” and I have to go “oh I like Alex and Maru the most.”

[liebgirl]

did i ever tell y’all about my little cousin who i’m very patiently waiting for her to turn 12 or 13 so i can get her to read city of bones as a long term comedic revenge plot against her father