#goat writes words and sentences

[goatanarchy]

Confession

Notes: hurt and comfort, erotic, Warden/Duncan, Warden is he/they!, AU where Duncan doesn't die and is a companion because I want to, probably very OOC but who cares.

When he let his wardens go that morning, he knew the risks, he did. To rescue the queen right from under the gaze of her father was no easy fit. But when only the queen and Alistair came back, Duncan’s heart sank. 

Arl Eamon didn’t let him go to Fort Drakon - so he swallowed his anger and waited. If Duncan too gets caught, he said, the political unrest it would cause would destroy all the hard work they put into this endeavor. Loghain would call him a cowardly deserter and a traitor for not dying at Ostagar. So be it, Duncan thought, he could be a deserter if it meant his wardens were to live. If Sarikh was to not be hurt again… 

They were brought back in the end and yet Duncan still felt helpless. Sarikh's deathly pale figure reminded him of a paper doll ready to softly fall onto the ground at any moment. And Duncan’s hands were in such a tight grip they’d bleed if it weren’t for the gloves he was wearing.

“Don’t worry the cell wasn’t too bad and the guards didn’t do anything bad either…” - the mage smiled meekly at him.

“I’d worry more about what our dog did to the guards, really. Those bites are going to be healing for a while.” - Alistair half joked, but there was an awkward guilt in his eyes. The kind that eats you up slowly like a caterpillar eating a leaf. Before Duncan could form a comprehensive response Sarikh was taken away from him to be doted on by Wynne. It was probably for the best, they needed to heal and rest. 

He spent that day discussing preparations the group needed to make before the Landsmeet… well he tried. Truly, he couldn’t care less for any of the nobles or their little quirks and anxieties at this moment. When Ferelden was being consumed by the Blight all they did was bicker and fight each other. What use were they to the people?  “Your mind is wandering today, my friend.” - Riordan told him as they left the Arl Eamon’s chambers.

“What makes you think so?”

“You have been sighing like an orlesian duchess that has been stood by her lover on a rainy afternoon.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow turning to the warden. Riordan only shrugged in return.

“I counted at least 10 sighs. I think even the Arl has noticed your ailment.”

“It seems you weren’t paying much attention either then.” - Duncan let out a tired laugh and looked out to the window under the ceiling. The sun had already set and he could barely see the moon shining sickly behind the clouds.

“Ahh, all of that political bullshit is the same everywhere. I am more worried about the Archdemon.” 

Riordan looked at the moon as well.

“I assume you still haven’t told Alistair and Sarikh about how we need to slay it.” - the warden said. The statement weighed heavily in the air and Duncan let out another sigh.

“Ah, eleven now.”

“It seemed much easier before I- well I-...” - Duncan tried to explain, but words got stuck in his throat. Before he… “what”? He was too soft? Too selfish? Before he loved too much? He felt Riordan’s hand pat his shoulder.

“It is alright, friend. You don’t have to do it if you can’t. I can talk with them after the Landsmeet.”

Duncan closed his eyes and swallowed. The thought of his wardens finding out from someone else made him feel disgusted.

“No. It would not be fair to either of them.”

“Ah, I understand.” - Riordan smiled sadly. - “Well, then, I will leave it to you.”

Duncan gave him a short nod and sighed again.

“That is twelve now.” - Riordan teased as he was leaving for his room. - “You might want to get that checked with your healer.”

Duncan let out a groan.

“Oh, for Maker’s sake, Riordan.”

—

He couldn’t help it. 

Instead of going to sleep Duncan kept wandering around the dimly lit halls of the estate. There was nothing good waiting for him in the Fade anyway. 

Genevieve would probably call him childish if she could see him right now, spoiled even. Or, perhaps, she would just give an iron cold stare and silently sit somewhere in the corner, judging. As a warden it was his duty to be in best shape. To be ready to jump to fight the darkspawn hordes at any moment… not to count how many dogs there were in the frescoes of the main hall.

Duncan leaned his forehead on one of the supporting beams in the hall that had a remarkably realistic mabari etched into it and almost sighed again, but caught himself in the middle and scoffed.

“I shouldn’t bother him right now. He is resting.” - the man whispered. He stared at the dog for a few minutes before giving it a little pat.

“You are well mannered, sir. If only Tiger was as quiet as you are.” - he said to the dog.

“...”

“What am I doing here, acting like a fool, hm?” 

“...” 

Once again it was deathly quiet. Maybe Duncan could take a page out of Oghren’s book and drink himself to sleep…. Tempting.

Duncan wasn’t sure how long he was standing there feeling oh, so silly about himself. He finally decided to just go back to his room, so that at least no one else would accidentally see this embarrassment. But as he turned his gaze to the stairs he saw a ghostly shape on the other side of the hall. It was moving past him slowly and silently, clearly not wanting to be heard. Duncan ducked behind the beam and took a closer look at it, thinking it to be a maid maybe, but then realized the person was covering themselves in a thin white blanket from head to toe. Duncan couldn’t see who it was but he did feel a faint presence of the darkspawn… A warden.

“Sarikh?” - Duncan called before even thinking it could be anyone else. The person jumped and made a sharp turn to the source of the sound. And lo and behold it was indeed Sarikh’s surprised face sticking out of the blanket. Good. Because if it was anyone else Duncan would have died of shame.

“D-duncan?” - They whispered loudly in return. Duncan came out from behind the beam under the faint light of the torches. Sarikh immediately ran to him but stumbled over their own blanket and fell forward.

“Oof! Sorry!” - the mage apologized as Duncan swept him into a hug preventing the fall.

“Are you alright?” - the man asked with a chuckle.

“I am now.” - Sarikh said with a smile. Their voice barely a whisper, but to Duncan it was as sweet and clear as the sound of a creek in a summer grove.

"You know, the blanket really doesn't help your stealth."

"Oh well, it is still very fun though. I am haunting the estate."

"Scaring all the maids." - Duncan smiled and lightly tugged on the blanket to pull it down off Sarikh, who didn't protest and only hugged Duncan closer. They had no shoes and were only wearing a nightshirt barely reaching their knees. He shivered from the thought of having his feet bare on stone at this time of the year. There weren't any new scars or bruises, so the healing magic must have worked well.

"What are you doing here so late?" - he asked, wrapping Sarikh back into the blanket. - "I thought you were recovering after the escape."

"Oh, um…" - they hesitated, a visible blush on their cheeks. - "I was… I am… I slept all day and now I'm… hungry. I don't think Wynne expected me to be awake so quickly. She was asleep in the chair near the bed." 

"So you sneaked away to catch a cold instead of asking. What if you got hurt?"

"I didn't want to bother, she needs rest too." - Sarikh mumbled with visible disappointment in their voice. But as they caught Duncan's worried gaze, they softened.

"I am not that fragile you know."

Duncan could only sigh in defeat.

"That is true, yes." 

But I might be, he almost said and cringed at his own thoughts. Sarikh wasn't even injured and he felt his heart would run off and wither any moment now. It had been so long since he cared about someone so deeply. 

It was all too easy to bury a warden when you both have promised to give away your whole lives for the blight. How does he keep his cool now? When he doesn’t want to die anymore… A cold touch of Sarikh’s hands on his cheeks brought Duncan back to reality.

“You are a mess.” - the mage stated. Soft and without accusation. Their red eyes pierced his every thought.

“And you are not?” - the man said back lightheartedly. Sarikh laughed and pinched both of Duncan’s cheeks. 

“Well, right now - I am very hungry. And I would really love not to be.”

“How about we haunt the kitchen together then? I could do all the sneaking.”

“Hmm, maybe….” - Sarikh said as if he was deep in thought on such an important decision. “The cook is… very intense. I wouldn’t want to get scolded by her.” - they continued and then nodded in agreement. - “Yes, you do the sneaking.”

Duncan took their hands off his cheeks and placed a tiny kiss on the knuckles, which made Sarikh giggle, their face flushed.

“It will be an honor to steal some soup for you.”

—

Together, they sneaked into the dining hall. There wasn't anyone to hide from, not really, but Duncan enjoyed leading Sarikh on their little heist. They would get to hold hands and whenever the shadows from the dim lit torches would move a little too fast Duncan would pull them both into a dark corner to shield Sarikh by hugging them, obviously, from an imaginary guard passing by. Sarikh would only laugh at him quietly and Duncan would feel their warm breath tickling his chest. Truly, love turned them both into fools.

There was no one in the dining hall either. 

 “And that's how you sneak.” - Duncan proudly announced.

“Those imaginary guards are certainly none the wiser now.”

Duncan motioned for Sarikh to wait and disappeared into the kitchen. Sarikh climbed onto one of the chairs, put their feet up as it got too cold and wrapped himself in the blanket as much as he could. They really should have at least put the shoes on but the hunger got the best of him. Being a maleficar one should never ignore their appetite. Constant blood spilling comes at a cost.

Before they got too comfortable though, a bowl of soup and a sizable chunk of bread was put in front of him. 

"Woah!" - The mage exclaimed, not anticipating Duncan to be back so soon. He looked up and saw him looming over with a chunk of cheese and an apple in one hand. 

"How did you?- That was so fast!" 

"Trade secrets" - Duncan smiled and bit into the apple. He winced for a moment as he wasn’t expecting it to be bitter, but continued to eat it anyway and sat down on the chair next to Sarikh.

"Ah, you do have the most nimble of hands." - Sarikh stated casually.

Duncan choked on the apple.

"Eat. Your. Soup." - Duncan hid his burning cheeks behind the apple but his usually firm and confident tone cracked under Sarikh's teasing.

“Hee-hee. I am not wrong.” 

Sarikh gave a little sniff to the bowl’s contents. It smelled hardy and the broth was pretty chunky with all the meat and vegetables in it. The only problem was that the soup was obviously cold. So they put their hands around it and a warm orange glow grew under the skin that touched the bowl. Half a minute passed and Duncan could feel the smell of the hot broth all around them. It made him yearn for soup even though he just had supper a few hours ago and was snacking on other things. There can never be too much good broth out there. 

Sarikh gobbled up the bread and soup like there was no tomorrow. Duncan wasn't sure they were even chewing, but he did feel relieved seeing them eat with a healthy appetite.

“They didn't… feed you there did they?” - he asked after mulling his anxieties over for a bit. Sarikh finished drinking and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Nope. They thought I’d bewitch them if they got too close. I would probably bite their fingers off instead though.”

“Always exceeding the expectations.”

“Mhm.” - they smiled and moved their bowl to Duncan. It still had some soup left in it.

“Here you go. I know you wanted some too.” 

“No, you need it more.” 

“I’m full. Besides, You can always sneak back in if it's not enough, right?”

Duncan sighed and gave Sarikh a look but finished the rest of the soup nonetheless. It was warm and hearty and he almost felt normal again.

As Sarikh propped his cheek and leaned on the table, he studied Duncan’s face with a soft gaze. He had the eyes of someone who should have collapsed a long time ago, dark and heavy and tired. Wrinkles were growing on his forehead from all the worries he was trying to hide. Not at all the brave and stoic Warden Commander he was when they only met.  Still, he was softer than before, more honest, with crow feet proudly showing off how much he laughed and smiled now.

“So what were you doing here in the middle of the night?” - Sarikh booped Duncan’s nose and he averted his gaze shyly.

“Oh. I uh- um. I was counting dogs on the walls.”

“How many did you find?”

“Around a dozen.”

“A good amount of dogs.” - Sarikh nodded in agreement and let out a big silent yawn. 

Duncan stood up and offered his hand to Sarikh.

“We should really go to bed now.” 

Sarikh took his hand - warm and weathered, but hesitated to stand up, their cheeks turning red again as they looked at Duncan.

“We should but umm… can I-... can I sleep with you tonight?”

They felt his grip get firmer and suddenly they were up in the air and then in Duncan’s arms.

“Wah!” - Sarikh gasped in surprise. Smug, Duncan whispered into their ear. - “As if that is even a question.”

As cheesy as it was, it made their heart beat faster. Sarikh nestled their head on Duncan’s shoulder and let themself be carried out of the dining hall.

“Good. Because I don't want to sneak back past Wynne and Morrigan and Shale who probably knows I left anyway.”

“Everyone was worried about you.”

“I know…” - Sarikh said, feeling guilty. - “Would it be too bad to say that it makes me happy that you all were?” 

Duncan let out a soft laugh and readjusted the weight in his hands to hold Sarikh closer.

“Only if you promise to not make getting caught a habit.” 

~~~

The bedroom was lit only by a tiny flame of an old candle. Duncan stood by the bed, letting Sarikh take off his armour for him. And even though he would have to put it back on in a few hours, he let Sarikh take the time to slowly untie the tabard. To loosen the leather clasps of the metallic shoulder pads for him. To carefully take it off. This way the day didn’t have to end so soon for them.

Tomorrow, I will tell him about the Archdemon. Duncan thought, lost in his own head. I will. Another sigh must have escaped him because he heard Sarikh say: “Is everything alright? Are you still worried about that whole prison escape?” 

Duncan was now sat down onto bed and Sarikh took his boots off and then neatly folded everything by the bed, where Duncan could easily access the armor at any moment if needed be.

“I-... No.” - he tried to sound calm. There was a pause between them. Sarikh looked at him and Duncan looked at the almost burned out candle.

“Alright then. Well, I’m done.” - Sarikh said as they climbed onto the bed under the blankets. 

For a moment Duncan thought he might have upset his dear friend with this dishonesty. Yet as soon as he laid beside them - Sarikh was all over him, cuddling and hiding their face in the nook of his neck. It caught his breath. He never felt so warm as when he was with Sarikh. How could he give this away? Ugh. 

The flame on the candle went out and Duncan found it hard to fall asleep. He suspected so did Sarikh as he could feel their thumb rhythmically caressing his right cheek.

“You are not falling asleep are you?” - he whispered.

“No. I’m too excited.” - Sarikh said and Duncan could hear it in their voice. He turned to face them but could hardly see anything but shapes in the dark.

“About what?”

They moved closer.

“Being here with you. I missed you.”

A little peck on the lips no more than a second, burned Duncan like fire. It broke something in him and he pulled Sarikh in for another kind of warmth. He placed kisses on their cheek and under the ear and down the neck.

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry.” - Duncan wept in between. -  “I should have been there with you at the fort.” 

His hand cupped their face and he felt Sarikh nuzzle into it.

“My dear, my sweet, there is nothing to apologize for. You didn't know. I didn't know.”

Duncan took off their shirt to place more kisses on their chest. And in return Sarikh scratched the back of his head, over the neck and down the spine with their nails. Just hard enough to make Duncan shiver. A sharp breath escaped him, his muscles tensed and he bit Sarikh on their left breast. 

“Ah.” - he heard Sarikh sigh in delight.

Sarikh helped him lose his shirt tugging the fabric so that it tickled Duncan even more before exposing him to the night coolness of the room. They didn’t have to see his face to know that he enjoyed it. The way the cold burned his skin and heightened his senses, made his hair stand on ends. His grip on Sarikh grew firmer, he had to have them closer.

Duncan turned them over to be on top, holding them by the hips. He wanted to feel the weight. He wanted to remember that it was real.

“There is- There is something I haven't told you. You and Alistair…” - he said as they found each other's lips. The warmth and softness of their kiss almost made him drunk.

“What is it my dear?”

Duncan’s breath faltered as he tried to put his thoughts into words and fight back his own tears. He didn’t want to die. But he didn’t want his friends to die either. It wasn’t fair how they always had to choose.

“You don't have to say it if you aren't ready yet.”

“You could make me.”

“It won't be fair to either of us.”

Duncan embraced them again, hot tears streaming down his face and onto Sarikh’s shoulder. 

“I adore you, you know.” - he pleaded this and many more sweet words to them. He didn't know what he was saying anymore, he might have confessed right at that moment that a sacrifice is needed for the archdemon to be slain but couldn't remember, overtaken by desperate need to hold and be held. 

In the end Sarikh could only stroke Duncan’s hair and listen.

[gothamphantomgoat]

[fallingformatt]

SINCE WE’RE PLAYING GAMES M.S.

Matt x fem!reader

summary: what happens when you try to cheat your way to win a game of twister?

warnings: SMUTTTTTTTT! unprotected sex, slight bdsm.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: Yall are some freaky fucking fucks… over a thousand notes on my post? Yall are insane, im so thankful for yall dirty minded ass people. I truly did not expect that to happen on my second post ever. And thank you all for almost 300 followers yall are the GOATS!!!

Let me know if I should write a pt. 2 for FIRST GLANCE M.S. available here

post is not proofread

➽───────────────❥

I'm currently at the triplet's house. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange hue to the living room where we all are sitting, drinking some drinks, and just talking. The music in the background isn't loud but I can hear it clearly.

"I'm bored, let's do something fun," Matt says looking down into his half-empty cup. "Well I don't have any ideas," Chris shrugs his shoulders. "I have an amazing idea," Nick yells, startling me. "Nick, you scared me, I almost spilled my drink," I say out loudly slapping his shoulder. "Please ask me what my idea is, please, please, please," Nick tries to plead to make us ask him what his idea is.

"So what is ur 'amazing' idea?" I ask looking at him with a serious face. "We're all gonna play twister," Nick says ecstatically clapping his hands together like a kid. "No Nick, we are not playing twister, we're not five," Matt says annoyed. "Oh look I'm Matt, I'm so tuff and boring, I don't like to have fun," Nick mocks Matt, making me and Chris laugh.

"Well I don't know about y'all, but I'm tipsy, there's no way I could play twister right now," Matt says tugging on the collar of his black t-shirt, his eyes from across the room to meet mine, sending butterflies to my stomach.

I've always had a little crush on Matt, but I never really did anything about it, because I didn't want to ruin the friendship between us. I mean yeah, sure I would sometimes tease him, wearing something revealing, making his eyes wander to places they shouldn't, for example, today, I was wearing short, low-waisted shorts and a small leopard print baby tee, but I knew that, me doing something with Matt would probably change the dynamics of the group as a whole, so I left it as is, hoping my crush on Matt would sooner or later die down.

"You're just scared that you'll lose, so I have a proposition, whoever loses takes a shot of vodka," Nick says proudly. "That's the dumbest thing I have heard in my life," Matt says crossing his arms. "Well, as far as I know, five-year-olds can't drink vodka, so who's the five-year-old now huh?" Nick defends his idea. "We all are a bit tipsy so the chances of you winning are fair, you're just a pussy," Nick says trying to provoke Matt. "Yeah Matt, don't be a pussy," Chris joins in. "Okay, that's it, we're playing, and I'm going to win," Matt says and smiles confidently. Nick claps his hands excitedly as he stands up and walks to the pile of board games that are stacked on a shelf above the TV.

"Found it! Y'all are going down, I hope y'all like the taste of losing, because y'all are gonna be licking the L's shortly," Nick says with a devious smile. "Okay, this one's clearly had more than enough to drink," Matt says as he facepalms.

Nick sets up the game, laying the playing pad down on the floor and placing the spinner next to the mat. "So, who wants to go first?" Nick says grinning. "I'll go," Chris answers and bends down to spin the indicator. "Right foot on red." He says out loud and steps on the playing mat. We all take our turns and the game is starting to get intense.

"Nick you are going to lose," Matt says his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence. The poses we are in are criminal. We are four, grown adults standing on this little mat, meant for children. At this point in the game, the slightest movement could make us all fall down. "Chris, you look like a deformed frog," I say as I'm laughing, almost snorting. Chris's right foot is still on red, his left foot is on blue, his right hand on blue, in front of his left leg, and his left hand is in front of his right leg. Nick is chilling in a comfortable position, meanwhile, I'm stretched out, so close to fall.

We all spin a few times. When all of a sudden Chris loses his balance and falls. "Hah, it wasn't even your turn, you're out, take a shot," Nick yells, happy that he's still in the game. "This is so annoying, 100 bucks on Nick falling next," Chris says as he takes a shot of vodka. I'm now in a compromising position, both of my hands are on red and my feet are on green and yellow, my position is leaving my ass high up in the air. Nick is now barely staying in the game.

"Nick it's your turn," Chris says out loudly, the alcohol he's had, making him unaware of the volume he's speaking in. Nick spins the spinner, "right hand green," Chris says. As Nick tried to move his hand, he lost his balance and fell. "Fuck," he yells out as he stands up. "Where my money at?" Chris says as he hands Nick a shot of vodka.

"Spin it," I say to Matt, and he does. "Left hand red," I say and Matt starts to move his left hand. Now both of his hands need to be on red and the only place in order for him not to fall is on either side of my hands. As he moves over me he brushes against my ass making me lose my balance slightly. Placing his hand next to mine, his head is now next to mine, "sorry," he says quietly, his hot breath brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It's now my turn and if I don't think of something quickly, I'm going to lose. I look over my shoulder to see what Chris and Nick are doing, they are currently in the kitchen getting some drinks. My lips move making a small grin, this is perfect.

As I reach for the spinner, I pop up my ass, making it brush against Matt's crotch. "Right hand red, looks like I'm safe for now," I say as I turn to Matt, a smirk appearing on my lips.

After taking my turn, I move back, again brushing against his crotch, now feeling something hard. "Don't do that," Matt says in an almost moaning tone. "Do what?" I say looking at him. "Don't try to act all innocent," he says in a serious tone. "It's your turn," I say, a smile plastered on my face.

Matt takes his turn and spins the spinner, "left foot green," He says, looking at the spinner. As he tries to move, I once again pop up my ass, making him brush against it once again, the tension on his crotch getting too much for him, making him lose his balance and he falls. "Ha, I win," I say as I stand up clapping my hands together. Nick and Chris rush over to the living room.

"Did Matt lose?" Nick asks. "Yeah because she cheated," he says, anger and frustration can be heard in his voice. "What did I do, that counts as cheating?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, as a smirk creeps on my lips again, knowing he can't say anything without explaining him further. "Nothing," Matt murmurs. "What's that? I couldn't hear you," I tease him. "I said, nothing," Matt raises his voice, standing up and storming off to his room.

"I am too drunk for this," Chris says throwing up his hands as he turns around and heads to his room. "Can you help me clean this up?" I ask Nick, and he nods kneeling down.

We cleaned everything up and put the game back in its place. "You ready to head to bed?" Nick asks. "You go, I'm going to come later, I'm going to check on Matt," I say as I start walking to Matt's room. "Goodnight Nick," I say smiling. "Goodnight." He answers.

Without knocking I open the door to Matt's room. "Hey, you okay?" I ask as I look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight at me. "I was waiting for you to come in, want to play a game?" Matt says. "Sure, what game?" I ask unsure what game he had planned.

"Since we're playing games, let's play a game you can't cheat in," he says a smirk creeping on his lips. "Simon says, close the door," Matt says. Oh shit, we're already playing. I close the door not moving an inch. "Simon says turn around and lock the door," his voice getting deeper. I do as he says. "Simon says turn back around and stand in front of me," he says. As I turn around, about to walk in front of Matt, my eyes meet his, his eyes grow dark and his lips form a slight grin.

"Simon says strip," he says his tone getting even deeper, a hint of lust accompanying his voice. "What?" I ask, my voice slightly trembling. "You heard me, Simon says strip," he repeats. I start off by taking off my baby tee throwing it on the ground leaving my upper body fully naked. I slip out of my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles before stepping out of them. I pick up my head to look at Matt, he stares me up and down licking his lips.

He stands up and walks closer to me, his hands move my hair to one side of my shoulder, then proceeds to leave a wet kiss on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand reaches over my body, touching my neck as he stands behind me "Left hand red." He says as slides his hand down my neck stopping at my breast. He massages my boob, pulling on my nipple making me moan.

"You like that?" He whispers in my ear. I don't answer. "Simon says answer," Matt says as his other hand slides down into my panties, pressing his finger against my clit before rubbing circles, making me moan. "Yes Matt I like that," I say as I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder. He pulls out his hand, "Simon says turn around," Matt says and as soon as I do, he smashes his lips onto mine.

Matt wraps his hand around my waist taking small steps, leading us to his bed without breaking the kiss. I brush against his clothed cock, rubbing it slightly before I feel a slap on my hand making me break the kiss, I look up. "Nuh uh," Matt says shaking his finger, "Simon didn't say," he smirks and pulls his black t-shirt over his head throwing it to the ground next to my clothes.

He removes his belt, sliding it out of the belt loops of his oversized jean shorts, making them slide down a little, revealing the band of his boxers. He looks at me before moving his gaze to my hands.

"Simon says, extend your hands." His voice was demanding, I brought out my hands, and he grabbed them and put them together before wrapping and tying them together with his belt.

Matt puts his hand on my hips pushing them back, guiding me backward. As I take steps backward, I eventually fall on his bed. He crawls on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee, making space for himself.

He yanks up my hands by the tied belt, pinning them above my head, immediately, Matt attacks my neck with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts, he kisses softly, slipping in a few bites. His hand slides up my thigh, stopping at my heat, his thumb starts to draw circles on my clit.

"Matt," I moan out. "Shhh, we don't want Nick or Chris hearing us do we?" He says looking up at me, taking his lips off of my breast. I shake my head in response and he smirks, "good girl," he says as he continues to rub circles on my clit his lips now moving back from my breast to my collarbone to my jaw before meeting my lips.

"Matt," I moan out as I try to pull my hands out of his grip. "Matt what?" He says as his hands push harder on mine, making sure I can't move. "Please, I need you," I whimper. He lets go of my hands and pulls away from my clit, making me let out a whimper from the loss of contact.

I immediately bring my hands down to my clit and start rubbing circles on my clit, pleasuring myself. As he unbuttons his jeans, he notices my hands, he grabs and pins them above my head again. "Are you gonna make me punish you?" He says his voice filthy and dark. "No," I say, shaking my head and looking at him. "Yeah, be a good girl for me," Matt says practically growling.

I move up and down my hips trying to get some relief as I watch him undo his jean shorts pulling them down, his boxers with them making his cock spring out, hitting his lower abdomen, precum glistening on his tip. Matt looks at me, "see what your little strategy to win did to me," he says raising his eyebrow.

"Please Matt, I can't take it anymore," I say as I scoot closer. Matt moves on top of me pinning my hands again, his other hand sliding my panties to the side before aligning himself with my heat. He pushes his cock in slowly before pulling it out almost completely, then pushing back in hard. "Oh- my- god- Matt-" I moan out between thrusts, his hand moving over my mouth to muffle my moans.

Matt fastens his thrusts, with each thrust going in deeper, making me moan out loud, he leans into my ear. "That's it, sweetheart, take my cock so good," Matt growls, pushing in me deeper than ever, his tip hitting my g-spot with every thrust. "Mmmm Matt you feel so good, I'm close," I moan out feeling my climax creeping up tension building in my stomach.

Matt moves his elbow next to my head, positioning himself so he's able to thrust even deeper. I arch my back as the pleasure takes over my body. His quiet moans landed in my ear, his hot breath sending me over the edge.

"Matt, I'm about to cum," I moan out. He smashes his lips onto mine in order to contain my moans as he plants a few more thrusts before I feel my walls tighten around his length, feeling the knot in my stomach releasing, my climax coming over me, I moan into the kiss. His hips continue to move as he thrusts in me a few more times before planting his cum inside me groaning, breaking the kiss.

He pulls out falling next to me, turning his head to look at me. "Who won?" He says smirking. "I did," I answer smiling, knowing this will piss him off. "Can you untie me?" I say as I shake my hands. "You didn't say Simon says," Matt answers teasing me back. "Simon says round two," I say as a devilish smirk appears on my lips.

I guess I won't be heading to Nick's room tonight.

[mrsbarnesblog]

wakanda

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18 ‼️ smut, sex in Bucky's hut, he has one arm, woman on top, unprotected sex, dirty talk, insecurity.

Author's note: posting my old fic, while I'm working on that tattoo artist x bookshop owner one👀 If any of you have smut ideas (with some kinks maybe), feel free to write your requests

You finally got permission to visit Bucky in Wakanda again since he was permanently living there to get rid of the Winter Soldier program and learn how to live a normal life again. Unfortunately, Princess Shuri and Ayo insisted that too much contact with other people might distract Bucky, so you weren’t allowed to see him.

The last time you were there with Steve and, even if you loved him to death, you couldn't deny the disappointment that you barely spent any time with Bucky alone. He was your best friend since you and Steve saved him in Bucharest, and you had the biggest crush on him for about the same amount of time.

At first, you had to visit Shuri and TChalla to talk through some moments, and that whole time you were bubbling with nerves and anticipation to finally see Bucky. 

You jumped right into his arms as soon as you walked down the hill and saw him standing near the lake. He hugged you back, burying his face in your neck, and it was truly the moment that you never wanted to end. Bucky smelled like fresh air mixed with some kind of seasoning, not to mention that he looked fantastic. In traditional Wakandian clothes that were covering his missing arm too, a low bun on the back of his head with a few springs of hair around his face, and smooth and tanned skin from the work under the sun.

You two rushed to his hut with the food you had bought from a local cafe owned by a kind old man. And somewhere after that, when you were eating on the floor covered with many blankets and colorful pillows and talking about your lives, everything went downhill. 

Bucky talked about his goats and the way he felt better living in Wakanda, while you unconsciously moved closer to him, needing to fill the void that formed while you couldn’t see him. Bucky just stopped in the middle of the sentence, as if he realized that you were too close, looking at him with your big, pretty eyes. 

Food was forgotten. Somehow, you ended up sitting on Bucky’s lap while you were connected in the most passionate and hot kiss you had ever had. Your hands were tightly holding his face, and his right one had a strong grip on your waist to keep you close.

“Bucky…” You moaned in his mouth; your hips were grinding into his hardness, which was so obvious through the clothes. You both were so lost in the moment, sharing a desperate kiss. Bucky couldn’t get enough of your taste; he bit your lip, then licked it with his tongue to calm down the delicate skin.

It felt so natural, like it was meant to happen a long time ago, and now you could not keep all of your emotions inside.

Bucky couldn't help but groan under his breath when your hand slipped into his hair, completely destroying his low bun. Your nails on his scalp felt majestic, and his brain became fuzzy with your gentle yet confident touches. Bucky moved his hand from your waist to your thigh, squeezing the soft and warm skin a little bit lower than your shorts. 

When he pulled away, you tried to follow his mouth, almost addicted to the taste and feeling of his lips on yours.

“Fuck, doll, that’s not how I imagined it.” His face became sad and almost apologetic, and you saw that the corners of his red lips moved downward in disappointment. “Not here, not with only one arm... Fuck, I can’t even touch you the way I want to.” His hand tightened on your hip, and you gave him a sad smile. Not that those things mattered to you, but your heart still hurt because Bucky felt that way.

“I don’t care about it. I just want you, Bucky, if you want me too, of course.” Your voice was soft and gentle, soothing his nerves a little bit.

“You can’t imagine how much I want it, but I can’t do much with one hand; fuck, it’s so bad, I’m so sorry...” Bucky’s eyes closed and his head fell lower, but you could still see a pink blush on his cheeks.

"I want it, Bucky; I want you, and your hand is not a problem, okay?" He deeply inhaled when your hands took his face and your lips were back on his. The kiss wasn’t so harsh and desperate; it was more deep and passionate, like you both tried to express your unsaid feelings. “Why don’t you just lay back on the pillows, and I’ll do everything?” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, and put your right hand on his chest, pushing Bucky back on the pile of pillows behind him so he was sitting in a reclined position.

You saw the hesitation in his eyes, and you waited a few seconds, gently rubbing your fingers over his beard, so he could process your idea.

“Okay.” 

You got closer, sitting more comfortably on top of him. One of your hands pressed onto the pillows near Bucky’s body, and the other one landed on his firm chest, playing with the red clothes that he was wearing. Bucky lifted his hand, gently grabbing your face and kissing you again. His soft lips and slow movements of his tongue inside your mouth made you moan.

“Can I take it off?” You mumbled, slightly pulling down the red material. More of his soft, tanned skin was shown, and you tried to hold yourself together and not overstep the line. Bucky’s pupils were dilated, almost completely hiding your favorite blues. He was closely watching your moving lips, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

“Mhm, but— please, can we leave this on?” He pointed to his shoulder, covered in blue material.

“If you feel more comfortable that way, then we can. But we don’t have to, if you suggest it only because of me.” You started to untangle his clothes, still watching his face to notice any signs of discomfort. 

“Just leave it on, okay?” 

“Okay.” As you removed the clothes from his chest, leaving the cover on his left shoulder, allowing you to see his perfectly sculpted body, your lips left soft kisses on Bucky’s cheek, going down to his neck and to his abs. You stopped there, feeling how the body underneath you tensed, and his hand gripped the duvet so hard that his knuckles became white. “Bucky?” 

“‘M okay, it’s just been so long for me. Didn’t get used to feeling that way. And I want you so bad, doll, I can’t even explain it.” He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. You felt that his cock was painfully hard underneath you, and just thinking about touching it made you ten times wetter.

“You can have me, Bucky. Do you want me to take the rest of our clothes?” You moved your hips a little bit, getting an almost desperate whine from Bucky. He looked stunning with his slightly disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, red lips, and lustful and needy eyes. And he was completely yours, fuck.

“Yes, please.” 

You placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up. Bucky’s eyes were following your every move as you took off your shorts and t-shirt, staying in the cooling air only in your simple black underwear. But Bucky was looking at you like you were the most delicious and precious thing in the world, like he wanted to make love to you and completely destroy your body at the same time. 

“Doll– fuck, everything else too, please.” He licked his lips, unconsciously moving his hips from the lack of attention. Your eyes slipped to his crotch, seeing how his cock was very visible through layers of clothes.

You just smiled at his desperation but still reached to the back to unclip your bra and then slide your panties down your legs. You didn’t waste any more time, going back to Bucky and finally completely taking off his clothes. 

“Holy fuck…” Your mouth went completely dry when you pulled down his black boxers. You never found this part of a man’s body that attractive, but it was the prettiest dick you had ever seen. Thick and long, with a vein going around it and a slight curve towards his press. The shiny drop of pre-cum on the head made you instantly want to lick it, but the mumble of your name and calloused hand on the lower part of your back brought your attention back to Bucky.

“You’re going to kill me, doll. C’mere, please, I want– need to touch you. Need to kiss you.” Before you could even say something or move, his hand slipped under your ass and, without much effort, lifted you on top of him. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I want to worship you and make you feel good; I’m so sorry that I can’t.” 

“Bucky,” you said, laying down on his chest. “I promise that when you get your new arm, I’ll let you fuck me however and wherever you want to, okay? But for now, I want to take care of you.” The feeling of your hard nipples pressing against his firm chest sent shivers down your spine, and the hand on your back made you want to grind on Bucky like a bitch in heat. “Please, touch me, baby.”

“You shouldn’t say shit like this to me, doll. I won’t let you go until you can’t even fucking think straight. Shit–  how are you so soft…” Bucky's hand was now exploring your body, gripping your ass, tracing your stomach, and reaching for your sensitive nipples. He never wanted to have both arms as much as he did at that moment—to touch every curve of your body and find everything that makes you feel good.

“Bucky!” Your hands pressed against his chest, and your head fell back with a moan when he pinched your nipple in between his fingers. He chuckled softly before sliding his hand down, right to your dripping core.

“Doll, look at you.” His eyes were glued to the place where his fingers traced your folds. “Is this all for me?” 

“Y-yes, Bucky, please…” You almost cried at the feeling that he gave you. Even if it was a long time for him, Bucky definitely didn’t forget how to please a woman. Your legs desperately wanted to close from the stimulation on the clit, but since you were spread on top of him, you couldn’t do anything but whine and dig your nails into the hot skin under your hands. “Don’t tease me, just—fuck!” 

“Taking my fingers so good, doll.” You knew that he was smiling because of your reaction as two thick digits slid inside of you, filling you so well but not enough at the same time. “You’re already ready for my cock, huh? Wanna feel how this pretty pussy stretches around me. C'mon, baby, help me.” Bucky moved his hips upward, and you felt how his dick was pressing on your ass.

“You have a dirty mouth, Barnes.” You laughed before reaching behind you, grabbing his cock, and lifting your body at the same time. You put the tip at your entrance, running his length through your folds and letting the head bump your clit as he collected your wetness, until you both couldn’t handle the teasing anymore. Bucky placed his hand on your ass, pressing on top and allowing you to slowly take him inside.

It was too much. The burn of him stretching you was slightly painful, but it made you feel so full, as if the two pieces of puzzles finally added up. You both moaned, your head fell back, and you tried to go slowly and adjust to his size.

Bucky’s hand tightened on your hip, probably leaving red marks. He breathed deeply to control his fast-beating heart. You felt so fucking good, all wet and tight for him, that it was hard not to move his hips into you. But it was obvious that you needed some time based on your tensed body and slightly opened mouth.

“Bucky…” Your eyes were flattering, and you were not able to completely focus on his face. You thought that you could just fuck him and take control, but you didn’t expect to be this cock drunk before either of you even made a move.

“So pretty lookin’ like this baby.”

“‘M so full…” You moaned, gripping Bucky’s hand and interlacing your fingers. 

You found a comfortable position, holding yourself with one hand on Bucky’s chest. The first movement of your hips was shocking, sending goosebumps all over your body. You both loudly moaned when you moved up, until he almost slipped out of you, and then down, burying his cock deeply inside. 

Bucky’s lower half slightly moved up when his non-existent left arm wanted to grab your hips, and you must’ve noticed the disappointment and anger written on his face because you leaned a little bit lower and freed your hand from his grip, moving it to his face. 

“That’s okay, Buck, just relax, please? Don’t worry.” You cooed in the softest voice. Your hips started to slowly move at a stable pace.

“You’re so perfect, baby.” He mumbled, and you felt that his body started to thrust into yours, so his cock perfectly touched your g-spot.

It became more intense with every minute. The little hut was filled with the smell of sex and the sound of your moans, as well as skin slapping against skin. You were too desperate for each other, trying to reach your climaxes but not wanting this moment to end. 

Bucky tried to touch you as much as possible; he wanted to make you feel good, give you satisfaction, and fulfill his own needs in your presence. He moved his hand from your ass to your stomach and boobs, then to your face, drawing you in for another hot and passionate kiss. He was all over you, hungry to get more and to remember every centimeter of your perfect body. 

You two moved in perfect rhythm, meeting each other's movements.

“Please, Bucky– it’s so good, fu-uck, I’m gonna cum.” You cried out loud, feeling that your body was starting to go numb from your approaching orgasm. 

“Such a good pussy, takin’ me so well. ‘M close too, baby; ride my cock, c’mon. Get what you need.” He slapped your ass, encouraging you to move faster. “So pretty wrapped around me. Can I cum inside you, hm? Will you let me feel you up?” 

Your head quickly nodded while you didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of you. Bucky bit his lip, trying to control himself and get you to the finish first, but you looked so fucking good on top of him, with your boobs jumping up and down, that he knew he couldn’t hold himself any longer. So he brought his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit. 

That was the breaking point for you. You completely lost control over your body, barely being able to stay still when the waves of pleasure were breaking through you.

“Good girl. You can almost feel me in your stomach, yeah?” Bucky was feeling every thrust of his dick with the palm of his hand, and it felt fucking insane. “Fu-u-uck, you’re squeezing the shit out of me; ‘m not gonna last longer.” He moaned, losing his rhythm too, while you fell down on his chest, too overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

You felt the last movement of his hips until he froze, moaning into your ear, and emptied himself deeply inside of your spasming pussy. You unconsciously continued to squeeze around his cock, getting every single drop, as if your body was greedy to get more of his load.

“I don’t feel m’ body…” You mumbled, already feeling sleepy, and wrapped your hands around Bucky’s body. 

“Sleep, baby.” The soft material fell on your back, covering your naked bodies. You felt a light kiss on top of your head, and Bucky’s arm hugged your back, holding you closer to him. 

You weren't sure, but right before you drifted to sleep, you heard something that weirdly sounded like “I love you.” 

part 2

[yoursweetdxll]

HI HIIII KURO

Can I request Academic Rival x Male Reader?

The academic rival, let’s call him Alistair, gets jealous upon watching the reader be all cutesy on a date with a member of the football team

Cue an angry, foul-mouthed confession from Alistair. THEN cue an equally foul-mouthed session of cock sucking (courtesy of throat goat reader), to the point where the reader have fully turned the table on Alistair and reduced him to a shaking, whining mess.

Rivals..?

ofc you can lovelyy

Rivals to lovers(?) Rivals to fuck buddies(?),Not proofread, I don't remember the rest I'm so fried rn, kinda ass don't jump me

How did you even end up in this situation? You were down on your knees deep in your rivals, Alistair, legs sucking his dick?!?! "ff-fuckk your m-mouth is so ttight.. " As he kept babbling on about how good your throat felt you were recalling how you even got to this point. You we're on a date with Devlin, the linebacker of the team, and you two were having a pretty good time he bought you lunch and you two were just walking around when... Alistair came out of nowhere looking pretty pissed.. And he started yelling on and on about something you don't remember and when you yelled back at him he just grabbed you ignoring your protest and threw you in the nearest restroom stall and kissed you...? The both of you started slowing making out completely forgetting about the screaming match you both we're having. And as the make out session got more and more heated you lost your train of thought when you heard him whining. "m-mmh.. why did you stop.. more please.. I want more of your warm sweet mouth on me...please I'll do anythi-" before he could let him get another word out of his sentence you deep throated his thick cock all the way down to put yourself nose deep in his dark oh so sweet pubes. "OH FUCK OH n-NGHH FFFUCK♡ " his sultry moans just make you suck on him faster and harder. As you kept sucking you felt his dick twitching in your mouth. You then popped his cock out of your mouth and started giving him a sweet handjob with your warm hands. "mm-mh c-c-cumming..! C-CUMMING♡ " he says as he cums all over your face. His sweet substance has a little bit of a salty taste but, nothing you wouldn't get used to. As you licked the cum off your hands you swear you saw his dick twitch again as he looked down on you. "You know if you wanna go again, we should go some place more quiet.. And, you know. Clean. " After saying that without letting him even answer you drag him out the bathroom stalls and too your car. You two have a very long night ahead of you. <3

someone ban me from writing smut I can't do this I'm so bad at it

anyway tiny taglist !

@darlingminjin @mailmango

yeah that's it and be ready for two specials coming up hurrayy ! <3

[uhohbestie]

There Are Monsters Nearby [Chapter 42]

🏜 Pairing: Grian/Scar

🧟‍♂️ Tags: zombie AU, zombie apocalypse, lovers to exes, slow burn, eventual reconciliation

📖 Summary: The day after Scar breaks up with Grian, the dead come back to life. Knowing that venturing out alone is a death sentence, the sudden onset of the apocalypse forces them to stick together despite their tensions. In the wreckage of the world, they're forced to survive side-by-side, coming to terms with the fact that—try as they might—there's still no one they trust more than each other.

Chapter 42 - The story of There Are Monsters Nearby concludes as Scar and Grian turn away from their past and look towards the future.

📝 Words: 11,088

🔗 Link: Read Chapter 42 on AO3

—

“I want you to get Pop Tarts,” Grian says, his attention cast to the side while Scar works, looking towards the settlement in the distance. It’s a fair ways off, looking more like a grey-brown smudge from where they stand— a collection of RVs and camper vans clustered close together in the lee of a grassy ridge, the surrounding hills fringed in sparse junipers and hardy looking spruce saplings. There’s an open space between them, dotted with small lumps that Scar knows are grazing cattle and a clustered herd of goats.

The ruins of a city lay further off to the east, the handful of buildings not blackened from fire standing empty and abandoned. It’s from there that the zombies have been drifting out, a perpetual source of mindless, wandering horror. Though now, thanks to Scar’s aim and Grian’s tenacious knack for violence, the tide will hopefully have been stemmed to some degree.

“And whatever milk and cheese they’ve got. I saw all their animals, there’s no way they don’t have dairy to spare.”

It’s an endearing quirk that Grian has adopted ever since it became clear his diet was permanently changed. He likes to pick things for Scar to eat now, planning and suggesting his meals with whatever they scavenge, hunt, and barter. He’s never been a good cook, not even before the world fell apart, but it’s been sweet the way he's applied himself to improving, the two times he gave Scar food poisoning already becoming fond memories in their own way.

When the last zombie’s head has been separated from its body, Scar yanks a glove onto his hand and begins gathering them all, shoving each one into a canvas sack that he uses for the sole purpose of demonstrating their worth to any sceptical marks they come across. Once he’s done, he sets the bag down, putting out his arm and drawing Grian in close.

“Good work out there,” he compliments, pressing a kiss to the top of his partner’s head. Grian’s hair is clean and smells incredibly good—like sandalwood and something crisp—everything about him well-maintained, despite the state of the world around them. “You really treated those googlies like you had a score to settle.”

Without hesitation Grian leans into Scar’s touch, the easy return of his affection still a novelty, despite how many weeks Scar’s been allowed and able to enjoy it.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he offers, his words mumbled sweetly into the thick flannel of Scar’s shirt. “You’re getting to have a real hawk-eye with your aim, you know.”

“I love it when you say I’m a hot guy,” Scar preens, deliberately mishearing him. “Got a real nice ring to it.”

[ read more ]

—

Chapter 42! 380k words and ten months later, we are so happy to announce that we've come to the end of our story. While there's still so much more of TAMN left that we plan to write and share, this portion is over, and we couldn't be happier. Thank you so, so much for going on this journey with us, and we hope you enjoy the epilogue and ending of There Are Monsters Nearby 💜🧡

You can read the whole fic thus-far in the link below ↓↓↓

You may not rest now, There Are Monsters Nearby (on ao3!)

[emeritusemeritus]

I have a request for you if it’s all right! May I please request a George Weasley x muggle girlfriend reader where they met while in a muggle park, and have been dating ever since? They have been bf and gf for a couple years now, and have managed to keep it a secret from everyone besides Fred, who is the only one who knows of George’s muggle gf’s existence. Now the Yule Ball is going to happen soon, and there’s no one else in the world that George would rather bring than his sweet girlfriend… Problem being that she’s a muggle and the Yule Ball is at Hogwarts. Him and Fred devise a plan to sneak Y/n into Hogwarts to go to the dance with George, and it’s all going well until Dumbledore catching a very muggle Y/n giggling with her wizard Bf George as they start to dance at the ball.

The couple would be panicked at first, thinking Dumbledore will Obliviate Y/n, but he just raises his eyebrows, winks at the couple, and lets them go on their merry way😂

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for this request, I had a lot of fun writing it and I’m so very sorry it took so long to post. Hope you are well and I did your idea justice 🖤

Cool Yule

Warnings: None really? Muggle!Reader x George Weasley. Slight angst in parts, troublemaking, we’re ignoring the international statue of secrecy completely. Multiple Disney references, references to soulmates but no actual discussion. Dumbledore is the GOAT. Probably spelling and grammar errors but I’m way too lazy to check again.

Word count: 3.1k (I got carried away, I blame the long hair)

Your boyfriend was a wizard.

An actual, honest to god, spell casting wizard with a magic wand, who attended a school for other magic users.

That was a sentence you'd never been able to say out loud since meeting George Weasley all those years ago, a secret you could never divulge to anyone and probably never could. You'd fallen for the sweet, ginger boy in the handmade knitted jumper all those years ago at the park that you'd accidentally barrelled into, dizzy from the swings and the laughter. He'd been kind, thoughtful and unbelievably gorgeous, three qualities of his that had only grown and developed with time.

His world was different to yours, a little behind and archaic in it's methods overall but it seemed quaint and sweet. He didn't have any understanding of technology and the only way to communicate was via letters that often arrived via an unreliable owl, a novelty that never wore off even after years of correspondence. You'd meet at the park nearly everyday during the summer when he was home from his boarding school, with your relationship quickly developing into a love story even the cheesiest Rom-coms couldn't portray accurately.

The downside, was that your relationship had to remain a secret. He didn't care that you were a 'muggle', his world's word for a non-magic person and was certain that his family wouldn't be displeased by it but admitting your relationship on your end would only bring on an account slaughter of questions that you couldn't answer. You weren't technically allowed to know about his magic use but George being the sweet boy he was, couldn't keep a secret from you any longer, feeling as if he was deceiving you somehow.

He also couldn't keep the secret from his twin brother Fred, unable to avoid the knowing looks and incessant questioning he was receiving from his perceptive twin. Fred was the only person in the world that knew about you and George's relationship, but he became a valuable ally who often covered for George to allow you both to meet. You'd never actually met Fred, though you'd heard many, many tales from George about their shenanigans, home life and future plans, it was like you knew him already.

Everything was going brilliantly between you both until his sixth year at the school, when you received the first letter from him since he went back to school.

He'd excitedly told you all about the Tri-Wizard competition and the two other magic schools that had joined together in the championship to compete. He'd told you of how he was frustratingly below the age restriction but that he and Fred were devising a plan to sidestep around the rules, as per usual, to put their names in for the chance to compete. But then he mentioned the Yule Ball, a great gathering between the three schools on Christmas Day that would be somewhat of a dance. He told you about his younger brother Ron's complete inability to find a date and Fred's ease at scoring one of the 'better' choices in their friend Angelina. He hasn't mentioned a date for himself but had joked about a lad called Neville that would probably end up going alone with a disparaging tone. Was George going to take a date? So not only would you not see him over Christmas break but now you had visions of him dancing the night away with another girl, how festive.

You hadn't replied to his last letter, unable to finish your response whilst your stomach knotted about the discovery of the ball. You couldn't get past the idea of George taking someone as his date, someone more like him, that fit in his world- someone that was everything that you weren't. It was inevitable really, your relationship breaking down due to the overwhelming differences between your worlds.

When Errol came banging into your window early on the following Saturday morning, giving you an almighty fright, you knew that it could only be a follow up letter from George. You opened your bedroom window and reached out for the heap of feathers that had unceremoniously slid down your window and collapsed into an owl-shaped puddle on your windowsill. You gave him a drink of water and allowed him to rest on your window whilst he lazily pecked at the window frame before he fell asleep.

You opened the letter against your better judgment, secretly wishing it away even as you opened the haphazardly sealed envelope. He was checking that you were okay, that he hadn't messed up the dates with your family's holiday and that you'd received his last letter; knowing Errol it was very likely that it might not have reached its destination.

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes and took a seat at your desk to quickly write a reply, ignoring the other ten drafts you'd started.

"Hi George, sounds like a lot of fun, I hope you have a wonderful time, who's your date? No you were right, we're going away over Christmas. Send my love to Fred as always. Talk soon. Love y/n."

Short, sweet and it got the point across. You looked at the writing, specifically the closing of 'love' but it was an unbroken habit that you instinctively had written- you still loved him so it was hardly a lie.

You gave the letter to Errol, scratching his little fluffy head to wake him up and told him to take it to George- with no rush. He huffed, chirped lightly and off he went with an almighty kick off, almost slipping off the ledge.

George's reply came later than night, though it wasn't Errol that arrived this time but rather an immaculately white owl with piercing brown eyes and a black beak that tapped at your window in an almost human like fashion. You accepted the letter and gave the owl a timid stroke, finding her completely beautiful.

"My sweet girl, why would I take anyone to the Ball when you're the only girl I want? Fred and I have been thinking and there might be a way to sneak you in, if you would accept the invitation? It's dangerous but so, so worth it to see your beautiful face. You'll need a dress of course and I've made a bit of money taking bets against the competitors so I can help out a little but I'm not sure how I'd get it to you or how I'd be able to change it to muggle money. I'd do anything to have you here. Please reply and let me know if you'd be my date. I love you and miss you so very much. Fred sends his love too, he's dying to meet you.

All my love, Georgie."

It took you less than five minutes to decide and to fire off a reply via the beautiful snowy owl.

It would be dangerous yes, but to hear how much George wanted you to be there, to hear the honesty in his words had made you realise how intensely you missed him and that it would all be worth it.

Secretive letters began to arrive, with codes and directions you were to follow. You'd told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to part with a single penny of his money, which you'd found out was a 'knut' in wizarding money. You had a little money saved from your birthday and from some extra chores and had managed to find a nice dress on a shopping spree with your best friend that you thought looked nice in George's favourite colour.

The issue would be slipppng away from your family on Christmas. How the hell would you manage that? As it turned out, it was easier than you thought. A big family Christmas with your siblings, step and half siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins galore meant that there were so many people around that you seemed to slip into the background anyway, a lost sheep amongst the herd. Your older brother knew something was up as soon as you arrived at your granny's house on the 22nd of December, ready to start the festivities. You'd packed your dress, along with the letters from George and the money you'd taken from the now broken piggyback from your childhood.

How you found yourself in a cold, damp tunnel at 7pm on Christmas Day, dressed up to the nines in your new dress was bewildering to you. You'd followed George's instructions exactly as they'd been written, trying not to question the often ridiculous requests that seemed so foreign to you and had inevitably ended up in exactly the right place... or so you hoped. After crawling through the dark and dreary tunnel for some time, you had begun to doubt your abilities and George's intentions, at least for a brief moment. Surely this dark tunnel couldn't lead to the marvellous castle George had described time and time again.

You let out a quiet sigh, heart pounding as you saw a brief flicker of light up ahead and began to panic, thinking you'd be caught. But then you listened, your entire body freezing in fear as your senses heightened.

"I told her to come this way, seemed like the best idea at the time," you hear a muffled voice whisper.

"Oh yeah drag your girlfriend through the darkest tunnel there is," the second, similar voice argues.

"Maybe she decided not to come?"

"Don't think like that mate, she'll be here."

George and Fred. It had to be.

You slowly moved forward, putting the fear behind you as you walk towards the light source and the hushed voices.

"George?" You say timidly, approaching the pair.

"Y/n?" He says, lowering his wand that was illuminated at the end.

The smile that shines from his face is enough for you realise that it had all been very much worth it, even traipsing through the dank tunnel for much longer than you'd have liked.

The castle was just as magnificent as George had made out, maybe ever more so, as he and Fred gave you a quick tour of the magical place. It was decorated with elegance and opulence, with an entire grotto's worth of fairy lights and garlands, though you were certain you'd seen the lights move more than once but didn't question it. Snow covered Christmas trees created a beautiful path throughout the hallways towards what was called the Great Hall. It was a sight to behold with silver tinsel and wall hangings adorning the walls, hanging from high up beams and some even just floating there as if levitating in mid-air. There was a huge ice sculpture in the corner of the room, filled at the base with refreshments and a selection of opulent desserts.

It was all so unbelievably beautiful, but yet it still didn't compare to George.

He wore a long black robe with a bronze coloured waistcoat with little golden stars all over the material, which complimented his fiery red hair in the most wonderful way. His shirt was white with little stripes and a bow tie that was slightly imperfect, only adding to the charm. Fred was wearing a very similar outfit and as you looked between the two, you couldn't believe your luck that you were here to experience this with your beloved.

Fred was incredible, a real jokester just as you'd imagined him but he was polite and very friendly, as was his date Angelina who you'd been briefly introduced to. George had pointed out more people who's names were familiar to you throughout the night but hadn't introduced you, to keep your little secret safe.

You'd danced and spun for what seemed like hours, the brightest smile beaming across your face as you giggled and laughed the entire time. Fred had taken over and had spun you around like you weighed as much as a feather, before he'd dutifully handed you back to your boyfriend with a cheeky wink. The music had suddenly slowed and a very romantic song came on, something you'd never heard before l, and it was only natural for you and George to move closer. His hands naturally fell to your hips, holding your body closely to his as you encircled your own arms around his shoulders, despite the height difference.

"You look so beautiful," he says in a low voice, looking down at you with a look that completely takes your breath away for a moment.

"You've said that already," you tease, keeping your voice equally as low and sultry, feeling as if you were in your own bubble entirely, barely swaying to the music as you held on to each other.

"I'll tell you as often as I can," he says cheekily, "you take my breath away."

"You look so handsome," you reply, feeling as if you were gushing with adoration for this boy.

His hand slips a little lower on your waist as you move ever closer, your hand slipping down from his high shoulders to clutch at the collar of his robes, both of you still gazing into each other's eyes as he leans down to kiss you.

You can’t verbalise it, or even begin to fathom how exactly it makes you feel, but for a brief moment in time, it feels like you’re surrounded by an invisible yet very permanent thread, like you were being bound together soul to soul. It envelopes you in its mist, entwining you and George together in a way that feels all-consuming. It’s peaceful and exhilarating all at the same time; but before you can even begin to realise what was happening, it all seemed to fade away, leaving you feeling nothing but warmth and love.

Pulling away, George dramatically twirls you around, dress flexed out around your legs, using your hand and you both giggle together. The laughter dies in his throat the second that he sees a figure moving towards him, the light and shimmer in his eyes dying like an extinguished flame.

An old man moves beside the pair of you, adorned in his finest silver robes with a beard longer than you'd ever seen. He looked almost comically like what you'd envisioned a wizard to be, so unlike how George has presented himself all these years; he looked like an archetype of Merlin himself, like Disney's imagining of ‘The sword in the stone’. He carries the air and grace of someone who is significantly important to the people around him, a commanding figure amongst the sea of joyous people. He meanders over to you and George with a knowing, yet ambiguous expression and he stops in his tracks to look over his half moon shaped glasses at you. He can see right through you and you are painfully aware of it. He knows you do not belong here, that you were a muggle amongst wizards, the little ugly duck amongst swans.

You swallow nervously, realising that this might be it for the two of you, that you could be in very real danger now. George’s hold tightens on you, wether out of protection or his own fear and you can’t help but squeeze back, sharing in his fear.

Fred and Angelina stop twirling beside you, two pairs of frozen bodies in the middle of the dance floor. You can feel Fred’s gaze cutting into you, no doubt carrying the same fear as his brother. What would happen now? You’d been caught.

To your utter amazement, the old man doesn’t cause a scene by cursing you out, doesn’t re-enact the scene in Lion King 2 when Simba banishes Kovu but without the singing giraffes and zebras. There’s no anger, no malice in his expression, only a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a slightly raise of his eyebrow. He looks between the pair of you, as if he’s seeing something that isn’t there, that the two of you cannot see.

His lips upturn into the tightest of smirks and raises a long, somewhat crooked finger to the side of his nose, tapping it twice gently against the curved nose. He winks from his left eye and begins to walk away, almost chuckling under his breath to himself as he saunters over to a woman in vibrant green robes who had begun to notice that something wasn’t right. He whisks her onto the dance floor, ensuring that her back is turned to the two twins and their dates and leads her away through the sea of dancing couples under the pretence of leading the dance.

George audibly let’s out the breath he’d been holding under the scrutiny of the man and let’s go of his right grip on your waist just slightly, still clutching you protectively.

“Who was that?” You ask quietly, loud enough that only George would be able to hear.

“Dumbledore… headmaster,” he replies, though his voice is a little shaky still. He casts a glance to the large clock on the wall above everyone’s head and you see the slight frown pulling between his eyebrows.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, reaching for your hand and beginning to pull you away from the dance floor, shooting a glance to Fred out of curtesy, silently communicating that he was stepping away. He doesn’t give you time to reply nor question his decision as he leads you by the hand through the crowd and out of the large wooden doors, leading out into the courtyard that is just as beautiful as the hall. He takes you to a nearby, unoccupied bench where you take a seat, adjusting the poof of the dress beneath you as you sit. The air is cold out here but you hardly notice, welcoming the slight chill after your little run in with the headmaster.

“Thank you,” George says quietly, almost absently as he watched you faffing with your dress. You look up at him in confusion, not quite sure as to why he’s thanking you.

“For everything, for trusting me and for coming here tonight,” he adds. “When I sent that first letter, I never considered you’d think I could spend this night with anyone else because there’s no one else for me. Never imagined that you would come, that you’d fit in so brilliantly.”

“It’s you I should be thanking,” you say, looking up to him with the sweetest, most adoring look you could muster. “You’ve introduced me to this whole new world and I’m so thankful I got to spend this night with you. I feel like Cinderella going back to her regular boring life after this.”

“Cinderella?” He asks, completely oblivious.

“I’ll tell you another time,” you smile warmly.

“No rush. We’ve got a whole lifetime.”

[nyx-is-missing]

hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

[constantly0lost]

Okay I haven't written in literal months, but i was inspired by the little blurb about otter harvey at the bottom of @sashiavi 's goat Harvey post, so enjoy a ramble. Alot of my sleep tired brain escaped into this, sorry for how sloppy this is, i just wanted to vocalize my thoughts or my head would have exploded. I would carry 19 of Harvey's children if asked, peace.

CW: bit of a breeding kink, i reimagined/softened the mannerisms of otters during sex cause MAN, male otters SUCK, other otter things (harveys hydrophobic hair), lactation kink, me being a simp for this man, UHHh, shitty writing :)

Otter Harvey who gives you special things that made him think of you. From rocks to acorns to mushrooms to flowers to leave and so on, and being so blushy when he gives them to you, because its just acorns but it means so much to him. And he swoons when he finds out you kept them all.

Otter Harvey who holds your hand while y'all sleep, even though you're as close as two people can physically be without fusing together. He knows logically that you can't go anywhere, and even if you did, you'd be right back in his arms, but it feels so nice to have his hand on yours.

Otter harvey who eats sea urchins in secret, not because of someone finding out he eats them, but because he has to yank one out of Vincents mouth after he saw Harvey eating them, and he didn't want to cause anyone any extra undue stress.

Otter Harvey who has to take showers with slightly more intense temperatures so that he can actually wash his hair, otherwise it rolls right off of his hair. The only time he won't is when you take a shower with him, because he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable because of him, and even then, after you get out he'll change the temperature so he can actually get clean.

Otter Harvey who, if you end up having kids, is the best fucking dad. He teaches them literally anything and everything, and sits at the table responding to their toddler gibberish with full blown sentences. He takes them to school, plays anything they want, and is a total pushover sap for them, no matter what happens. (He is also 110% a girl dad)

Otter Harvey who bites higher up on you than he probably should, but he can't help it when you make him feel such mind numbing pleasure. So now you have hickeys on your cheeks, lovebites around your nose and mouth, along with all the marks he leaves along your body.

Otter Harvey who has such a rampant breeding kink that on "bad" days, he'd fuck you over and over until he's so drained he's lightheaded and overwhelmed, and he feels guilty for fucking you like that, even though he's still inside of your puffy cunt.

Otter Harvey who can't help but moan and whimper as he fucks into you, digging his nails into your hips as your pussy seems to suck him deeper, your walls clenching around him in a downright mean way as he bites and sucks anywhere he can get his mouth to.

Otter Harvey who often and loudly verbalizes how he wants to stuff you full right as he's about to cum, drilling the head of his cock harder into your spongy walls.

Otter Harvey who, when he gets jealous, will hold you down by your neck, or might even just hold you down by your hair, as he drills into you, harder than he normally would dare. His mouth turns downright filthy, spewing the nastiest words you'll ever hear in your life, as he hefts your leg over his shoulder.

Otter Harvey who can, will, and has spent hours buried with his face between your legs, looking up at you with those pretty eyes in search of your approval. He wants you to pull on his hair to guide him, wants you to pull until his scalp burns.

Otter Harvey who whines so damn pretty when you ride him, his cock kicking on your hand as he eyes roll back, his nails digging into your thighs. He mumbles whispered gibberish, which could almost be pleas, but are too garbled to fully make out.

Otter Harvey who will suck on your tits until you produce a few beads of milk, which he gratefully laps up and swallows like it's heaven on earth. Of course afterwards he gets anxious, wanting to make sure it's not galactorrhea, and wanting to make sure you're healthy.

Otter Harvey who would bend over backwards to make sure your happy, who would wait on your hand and foot so that you feel properly appreciated. He loves you, and knowing you love him back is all he needs.

FUCKING OTTER HARVEY IM GONNA RIDE HIM IN MY DREAMS TONIGHT AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

[positively-peachy-143]

Things I'm noticing on my reread. Chapters 1-2

Darry was captain of the football team in school

Soda knows how to lift one eye-brow and he learned it from Two-Bit

DARRY APOLOGIZES TO PONYBOY IN CHAPTER ONE

Ponyboy has to put a stupid bandaid on the cut he got bc Darry told him to.

when asked about school at the end of chapter one, Soda redirects to talk about Sandy instead

could be wrong but Dally is waiting to meet Johnny and Pony under a streetlight at the beginning of chapter two, would be kinda cool if it's the same one he dies under

Hinton always avoids going into detail about what Dallas is saying when Ponyboy talks about how good he can swear or how dirty he can talk.

PONYBOY CALLS DALLAS OLD IN CHAPTER TWO D:

Cherry ate with "too bad you can't ride a bull half as well as you can talk it" no crumbs

Cherry apologizes to Ponyboy when he says he's friends with Dallas. I just thought that was funny.

TWICE HE CALLS DALLAS OLD IN CHAPTER TWO

slightly off-topic but a couple times Pony will explain something they do and go "don't ask me why, I don't know why" meaning he knows how shitty some things they do are, but it's just the way that it is, and if he felt like he had a choice, he wouldn't say or do those things.

Two-Bit is good at voice imitations!! I feel like we moved past that one too quick

GUYS CHERRY IS SO FUNNY I LOVE HER SM.

Two bit jokingly goes "who's this? your great aunts?" and Cherry (the GOAT) Valance goes "Great-grandmothers, twice removed" THAT WAS SO FUNNY.

Two-Bit does the eyebrow thing when he's puzzled or confused <3

GUYS THE CHEMISTRY BETWEEN TWO-BIT AND THESE GIRLS.

Guys even Two-Bit called Dallas old.

okay but "Mr. Timothy Shepherd and Co." was one of the funniest things Two-Bit ever said.

I feel like the sentence "He sure put things into words good" was bad on purpose. Like Pony you're writing a BOOK wtf are you talking ab

TWO-BIT HAS GREY EYES <3333

It's interesting to me how the Socs attack on Johnny effected him more than a whipping from his father with a two-by-four

Also Dallas looked sick at seeing Johnny all beat up, despite having watched, yunno, murders back in NY

guys off-topic but Cherry is such a girlboss

anyway

Sylvia tried to make a move on Johnny while Dally was in reform school >:(

Chapter two ends with "I know better now." which actually like stabbed me through the heart bc AGH

Lmk if you want more updates and lists like this as I reread. This was only chapter one and two D:

[endeus]

really really think the author of that article wouldve benefited from reading crossing the line. i think its a better more nuanced & more complete look @ masculinity machismo & men in hockey and that book was written in 1998 & was focused on sexual violence in canadian jr hockey. bit graphic but i would absolutely seek it out. you can borrow it on archive.org, or buy it on betterworldbooks, thriftbooks, or amazon. shoutout 2 the goat laura robinson! i have more gripes though

anyway here is me trying to engage with the article on the article's terms

"this new generation of nhl players [...] expect a greater level of autonomy and respect than previous generations" <- THATS JUST LABOR RELATIONS!!!! THAT;S THE UNION!!! the difference between hockey players re: trade requests, contract disputes, etc then vs now is that the nhlpa is staffed with people who are qualified to run the nhlpa. rather than being staffed by alan eagleson.

nitpick: too mny bridge words. "Not only that, but barriers that once existed to particular performances of masculinity have become less infallible in recent years." <- coulda started the sentence at barriers; that's not what infallible means. infallible = incapable of being wrong. 'barriers have become [more prone to being wrong] in recent years' <- see how tjat makes no sense?

"...shorter, non-traditionally masculine players are finding their place in this sport at the elite level." <- immediately after talking about how there are more non-physical players in the league like gaudreau, qhughes, caufield, garland, etc. would love an investigation into why youre linking size-physicality-masculinity. like. i know why & you know why but the point of an article like this is to fucking look at it. to look at the things we know about hockey. and to look at the things we know about masculinity. your discussion is not complete unless you discuss your subject!!!!

& just. sidestepping discussion of race & the racial dynamics at play in hockey to talk about the swedes Ok. if you were gonna write an article about racial dynamics in hockey, i would want you to talk about the way european players are viewed cause i do think thats an important piece of it. but if you're gonna brush over 90% of the subject i don't think you get to talk about people thinking swedes are all prettyboys. tbh.

also "Boeser's been nicknamed 'Mr Sensitive' by teammates, a joke in good fun that he's playfully balked at..." <- brother did you see the video of boeser being told his teammate called him "mr sensitive." (clip --- archived clip; ~1min in) that was not playful balking he was pissed. that is the exact type of macho behavior you are supposed to be writing about!!!!!!!!!!!

sure okay talk about mental health and progressive politics and players getting emotional in press conferences. WHY are these things breaks from traditional models of masculinity. WHY are these things important. WHY do they show progression in the culture of the game. the point of an article like this is to fucking LOOK at the things we know about hockey and the things we know about masculinity. investigate it!!!

& before anybody says anything about how this is part 1 of 3: the right place to lay the foundation of what traditional masculinity is and what it means and the way it relates to hockey is BEFORE you start building the house of how players are breaking from it.

[goatanarchy]

Little Rat

Summary: A spirit wakes up in a body of a mage, to take his place and his name. Notes: Warden/Duncan(implied), Warden is he/they!, AU where Duncan doesn't die and is a companion because I want to, probably very OOC but who cares. I wanted to finish more scenes before I post this one but I have been struggling for months, maybe even a year to write, so here is at least a very short part of it that is done.

The mage was looking at the rat. The rat was looking at the mage.

The deal was made, he is finally free. Both of them.

“Promise me one thing…” - the rat whispered.

“Anything!” - the mage smiled so brightly, the rat felt weird. He could never make this face in the mirror.

“Escape. See the sun, eat some good food.”

“I will. I’ve always wanted to.”

“Good.”

The rat disappeared and the darkness came.

Then gasp of air. The first one! And light, so much light, softness and muscle, the loud beating of heart inside his veins. His veins… filled with warmth and blood and tingling pain inside his head. But even the pain was exciting! It was the first one they felt…

“Are you alright? Say something, please…” - they heard an anxious voice. It welcomed them into the world as they jumped off the bed and looked around abruptly, like a wild animal ready to run.

“Jowan?” - they called out a bit unsure. Lots of memories buzzed in their mind and the mage hid his face in his hands. Cold. Poor blood circulation. Yes it was a friend, they remembered. Not his, but the one before him. Sarikh. He liked that name. He will carry it too.

Sarikh opened his eyes and saw a human… man? Yes. A scrawny one, in heavy dark robes and with sad anxious eyes. Sarikh brought his gaze to other things: walls of stone - cold to the touch, the wooden beds, the closets, big doors, his heavy robes (that he decided he didn’t like) and other people… humans and elves…real ones… Just like him! They were staring at Sarikh from afar with curiosity. Sarikh too was curious, but couldn’t tell what they were thinking about him. He tried to reach for their thoughts but could only catch blurred echoes of their emotions and feelings. Confusion, fear, envy.

“How weird!”, he thought to himself. It used to be so easy to just know.

“They carried you in yesterday and I was so worried… I’ve heard of apprentices who never came back from Harrowing. What was it like?” - Jowan asked.

“It was… harrowing.” - Sarikh answered absently, squeezing the sheets of the bed he was sitting on, wondering at the feel of the rough textures he never was able to feel before.

“And that’s it?” - Jowan asked and Sarikh could see the wrinkles on his forehead come together sculpting his face to look…. sad? Yes. That was the emotion Jowan was feeling. Sarikh smiled apologetically.

“You know I can’t tell you about it.”

“I do. I just wish I knew when they will call me for it already…” - there was frustration in his voice and fear in his mind. Not something Sarikh could fix. He knew Jowan was afraid of becoming a tranquil, as did most mages in this tower. Tranquil or dead - who knew which one was worse?

“Although Irving wanted to see you after you wake up.”- Jowan added after realizing Sarikh wasn’t gonna tell him anything else.

“I should… probably go see him then!” - they said, jumping off the bed and leaving sad Jowan behind. They felt bad for not knowing how to comfort their… new friend.

Sarikh didn't pout for too long and got distracted easily. He touched the cold metal gratings shaped in beautiful spirals and looked through the books in the library. Which he didn’t know had a smell! The knowledge could smell and it made Sarikh giggle. It also made people stare at him but he once again wasn’t sure why.

He looked into every open room and listened to every word. Maker, demons and blood magic - it was all a blur of useless words for Sarikh. The only thing he wanted to find was a window or a crack in the walls that would let him see what the real sun and sky look like.

Instead he found old men arguing. Ah, he knew them. The angry templar, the old Enchanter he was supposed to meet and the hmm… this one was new. Sarikh couldn’t remember him, which meant he was from outside the tower. Exciting! He was a human - clad in shining armor, dark in skin and hair, broad and tall. His eyes were almost black, but bright and determined under the scarce light of the heavy chambers. A knight perhaps?

“Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you.” - The man from the outside interrupted and everyone turned to Sarikh. They might have stared at the knight a little too long because the templar, Greagoir, coughed to break the awkward silence so he could leave:

“Well Irving, you are obviously busy. We will discuss this later.”

Irving sighed, tired, but still gave Sarikh a warm smile inviting them to come into the office. Sarikh froze in silence, not knowing what to say. The First Enchanter bore many a memory in the mind of his late friend. Stern and appraising in ways that have made the old Sarikh miserable… He felt a prickle in his heart and had to blink a few times to back down the tears. Another thing he cannot fix.

“H-hello.” - Sarikh pressed out of himself.

“This is?..” - the knight asked. He studied Sarikh with as much interest as they had, maybe just a tinge more dignified in expressing it. Sarikh was an elf, much shorter than most, pale as paper, a poof of dark red hair and red eyes to match, a friendly smile resting on his lips.

“Yes, this is he.” - Irving confirmed, warm and proud. - “Congratulations are in order to our new brother in The Circle.”

“Thank you!” - Sarikh said a lot louder than they anticipated and turned their gaze to the knight to hide the anxiety. The knight only gave a polite smile in return but they could feel his interest spike.

“I see you are much curious about our guest. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens. ” - The First Enchanter said.

“A Grey Warden? In the tower?” - Sarikh… vaguely knew of them. In the Fade he has witnessed all kinds of legends and tales from the dreams and the spirits. He couldn’t always understand them but he knew that humans loved heroes and deeds that felt larger than life. And Wardens were one such a thing.

“Grey Wardens go wherever duty sends them.” - Duncan said and it felt like he meant it.

“You’ve heard of the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king’s army at Ostagar.”

Sarikh’s eyes went wide with excitement, his hair poofed up.

“I want to defend our kingdom!” - he blurted out. That would get him out of the tower, wouldn’t it? Duncan let out a hearty laugh and Sarikh’s cheeks burned red.

“What an eager little fellow, you have here.” - Duncan teased.

“He was always very diligent.” - Irving confirmed more to himself than to anyone else. - “But you mustn't be so hasty Sarikh, you only just passed your Harrowing after all. Have at least a little levity before thinking of war.”

“Yeah-yeah… I will.” - Sarikh mumbled disappointed, looking at the floor. Irving, seemingly satisfied, waved at him to go.

“For now, enjoy your day, rest, and be so kind, show Duncan to the guest quarters… I have some things to discuss with Gregoir.”

“With pleasure!” - Sarikh said, again, way too excited.

—-

“So you wish to be a Warden?” - Duncan asked as they walked through the tower. Sarikh was marching him around every chamber, choosing the longest way to get around. One might think that they were doing this on purpose, but Duncan couldn’t help but notice how confused the young mage looked every time he would open a door and it would be a broom closet or someone else’s quarters entirely…

“I do!” - Sarikh turned to Duncan, his bright red eyes almost sparkling. They didn’t want to sound desperate but - “Would you take someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” - Duncan wondered. Sarikh let out a nervous breath.

“Well, from what I’ve heard about The Wardens…. You are strong and-and… heroic warriors that can take on a legion if you wanted to. And I’m just well… me.”

“A lot of people are just people at the end of the day, Sarikh. Strength doesn’t always come in abundance of muscle or magic power.”

“Oh.”

“Sometimes it’s about being persistent and very very stubborn.”

Duncan watched Sarikh open another door, look inside, blush and close it immediately.

“Well, I hope it doesn't also require a good sense of direction then.” - Sarikh said in a most pathetic tone.

“That’s why you bring the king of Ferelden with you.”

“What?”

“Hm.” - Duncan smiled at something distant in his thoughts.

“Are you going to have the king with you too?” - they asked, not sure if the man was joking or not.

“Hopefully, only for an inspirational speech. Do not worry, though, we have maps if the need arises.”

“Good, good.” - Sarikh nodded satisfied. They opened the last door in the hall and it was an empty and unlived bedroom. - “Ah! These must be the guest quarters.”

“And what if it is not?” - Duncan asked. What little confidence Sarikh had, immediately left them.

“Umm.. finders keepers?” - they said after thinking really hard for a minute. Duncan let out a laugh.

“Well. I can’t argue with that logic.”

[hermit-lover]

Hello! I love your writing so keep up the good work :D

I would like to request Ren, Doc and Scar (Separate or not) with a ftm reader, preferably platonic.

It's completely fine if you don't want to though!

(Also if you end up doing it, may I please be ✨️ anon?)

A Moment Of Calm

--------------------------------------------------

Character: DocM77 x Reader, Rendog x Reader

Type: Blurb (1.8k)

Theme: Platonic, Comfort

Summary: The grind of Season 8 and The Octagon have been wearing you thin, so you take a moment to recuperate after a great success.

TW: Dysphoria

A/N: Welcome ✨(Sparkle) Anon! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy. :)

It’s been a loooooooong couple of weeks, and that's almost an understatement. You thought joining in on Doc and Ren’s shenanigans this season would be entertaining, but didn't account for Doc’s affinity for shooting for the moon (heh). Seeing his projects in seasons past you should’ve guessed it would be equally as crazy, but something in you rationed that maybe he would take it easy. Big mistake. Considering it started with somehow creating a super-chunk of a horrifying amount of spawners. You have been endlessly grinding copper and logs to fuel the shops, hearing shulkers grumble in your sleep, and building up the centre of your new base of operations. The Octagon. It was honestly huge, with complex corners and shape lending to the mechanical aesthetic you’ve leant into this season. It wasn't one you typically built in, unlike the mad scientist, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't miss the ease of terraforming. Soft dirt and plants under palm instead of gritty redstone that has long since dyed your nails. But being part of this team was rewarding in its own right.

You settle into the wooden seat sat on the floor, grunting as your knees crack with effort, and your ribs protest. How long has it been since you’ve taken off your binder?- ah no matter. A sigh pulls from your lips at the chance to relax, a crackling campfire soothing your nerves. The seat isn't necessarily the most comfortable, but after a long day's work you were looking forward to the staple of your meetings. A barbeque. Stretching your shoulders against the tight fabric under your shirt, you look to your teammates as they arrive, chattering animatedly. Ren’s voice carries first, agreeing enthusiastically to something Doc was explaining. Ever the enabler, or hype man as he would prefer. An arm is strung across the goat-hybrid's shoulders, half tugging him into a hug. Doc responds, waving his prosthetic hand to help visualize the words- a habit of his you noticed finally being close to him this season.

“Then if we attach the redstone to the power core as shown in the blueprints-” Upon coming to the crest of the hill, Ren’s gaze catches your own, and his grin widens.

“Hey dude!” The werewolf waves exaggeratedly with his free arm, completely interrupting Doc mid-sentence. He sputters out something about manners, but rolls his eyes and nods in greeting. A rush of warmth splits your own face into a grin. It was nice to have them as friends.

“Took you long enough. I was about to dig in without you.” You tease, earning a playful swat from Doc as he moves to settle in the seat beside you, Ren already taking his place as ‘the meat master’ as he would insist the title be. Laying perfectly seasoned steaks on the grill over the fire.

“You say that as if you weren't late to our last meeting.” Doc grumbles, unable to hide his smug smirk at being able to hold it over your head. Groaning dramatically you flop further into your chair.

“It was one time! You try being on time when Scar has filled your starter base with pandas-” Ren snorts, and you shoot him a glare. Doc hums in debate, he of all people understands Scar’s menace. Doesn’t mean he won't find it funny. “We still have to enact revenge for that.” You remind the pair, causing Ren to perk. A dangerous glint in his eye.

“We should infest Boatem with those bot guys Doc designed.” He suggests, “Cover their landscape with mite-bots!” Arms swooping in a wide arc, you can picture it vividly; The tailored landscape of the builders covered in clicking, scurrying bots. Like chickens but harder to kill. Not a bad idea at all. Your so caught up in the visual it takes a second for it to click what exactly Ren has just called the bots-

“Mite-bots?”

“MITE-BOTS?!” Doc’s cry overlaps your own, so suddenly all you can do is blink. “They aren’t mites! I’ll have you know I modeled them after viruses- which happen to look very cool.” The goat’s instant defense of the odd robots makes you stifle a chuckle, especially when Ren simply flicks his tail sassily. Void, they were so childish sometimes. For as much as Doc tries to seem mature and scary, it wasn't hard to wind him up.

“Mites-viruses same thing my dude. ” The werewolf shrugs, flipping a steak casually with his bare hands. It sizzles loudly and your stomach clenches with hunger, gurgling in protest. The scent of cooking meat making your mouth water. Doc grumbles unintelligibly under his breath- but you get the gist of his complaints for ‘respect’. A common thing he insists upon, despite secretly enjoying the banter. Glancing back to Ren, his gaze is already on you, smiling slightly in knowing. “Hungry?” He asks gently, eyes twinkling with affection despite the bags. He was so chipper it was hard to tell he was as tired as you are. You’d guess having his body be mostly robotic this season meant he likely felt the effects less, but there was still evidence of wear-and-tear. His metal body was scuffed and dirty, not being polished like it should be, pale skin also covered in a thin layer of grime. The evidence of hard work across the three of you is a testament to how hard you were working to complete the project before the end of the season. It was a grind, all hands on deck as you all knew it would be a shorter one.

Blinking back to reality, you realize you’ve simply been staring back at him, neglecting to actually answer the question. You stumble to answer quickly-

“Ah- yea, it smells good.” You manage out, smiling sheepishly back to his patient look. For a brief moment Ren accepts your answer, and you all lapse into peaceful silence. The crackling of fire and sizzling meat overlaid the chirping of crickets and waves lapping on the shore as the sun descended over the horizon. You truly think you can be happy here- friends, good food, enjoyable projects- and then Ren clears his throat.

“I don't mean to nag at all my dude, but I’ve gotta ask…How long have you been wearing your binder?” You inhale sharply, suddenly aware again of your aching ribs and strained breathing. Ah, shit. Of course he would notice-

“Mm Ren’s right, I haven’t noticed you without it- or taking enough breaks for me to assume you’ve removed it.” Doc agrees, sitting up a little further to watch you carefully. The pressure from both of their gazes is almost a physical weight on your skin, prickling an embarrassed heat on your face. Deep down you knew they only cared about your well-being, but the thought of being without it- “Breathe. We wont force you to change if you truly don't want to, but it isn't safe to wear it for so long.” Doc’s reassuring rumble soothes your nerves a tad, as a clawed hand rests gently on your shoulder. Lingering just-barely there as to not spook you, but there enough to ground back to your body. Realistically you know you should change, but the thought of having to exist looking so unlike your true self-

“Here.” You tune back into the present, face-to-face with a plaid ball of fabric. There's a moment of silence as your brain lags behind- then it dawns on you what it is.

“Your shirt??” You glance mildly horrified at Ren- and see much to your relief he is still currently wearing clothing. He chuckles, waggling the shirt ball enticingly.

“You wish I was showing off my abs, baby” He teases, not taking to heart the disgust you can't stop from flashing across your face. Doc huffs a laugh at your reaction, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “But I don’t want to attempt to out-man the ultimate man, my dude.”

It's clear he's trying to flatter you, but you let yourself take the compliment. After all, it was clear he simply cared deeply. Finally reaching out, you grab the flannel being dangled in your face. It's impossibly soft and plush, clearly well loved. The deep red fading away slightly with how many washes it's been through. Ren smiles at that, placing both hands on his hips. “It’s even oversized on me, so I figured it would be comfortable for you to lounge in- if you want.” The offer makes your heart clench- they notice, and more importantly they care enough to try and find a solution where you can all be happy. This server is going to be the death of you- and you already feel a little choked up with emotion. After a moment of debate you nod, and Doc gently removes his hand. You miss the warmth of it, but he smiles reassuringly.

“You can change in the van, we’ll save you a steak.” He jokes lightly, and you scoff.

“You better!” Pointing a finger accusatorily at him, you rise from your seat. “This better not be a ploy to eat my share of the food.” Doc chuckles deeply, choosing to not answer as Ren pretends to look guilty. Feigning annoyance at their lack of an answer, you stalk to the van, nerves building with every step took away from them.

Stepping into the rocket-van the door clicks shut behind you, plunging you into an eerie silence. If you listened closely you could hear the fire- and the low voices of your friends just outside. If you truly wanted, you could just leave now and not change-and they would ignore it because of your emotional comfort- even if they did worry. Or…you could be comfortable physically with minor emotional discomfort. And they would be happy.

… That doesn't make it fair, huh? You pull off your shirt quickly, opting to rip it off like a band-aid. The struggle out of your binder was always a little embarrassing- but you shrug on the soft flannel in no time. It hangs on your frame, doing its job at hiding any shape of body beneath. Instead creating the illusion of one solid shape. You still knew your body was under there- but…it was as comfortable as you could get. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the van and trail back towards the campfire. Doc and Ren are talking in-between bites of food, both their gazes flicking to you at your approach.

You brace for a comment, of any mention of you wearing the flannel and accepting their offer- but Ren simply extends a hand out, holding a steak.

“Dig in! It's not getting any fresher.”

It's that simple moment of acceptance that solidifies it for you; Doc and Ren are true friends.

[shrimshrim4fun]

May you please make a part 2 of "Sinners Reacting To you using GenZ slang"?

This one starring Eirene, Thistle, Luvia(and Ray), Lady Pearl, Adela, and Enfer?

Yeah but it might be a bit out of character for Enfer cause I don’t know her (also Luvia Ray) but I hope you enjoy.

Sinners Reacting to you Using GenZ Slang Pt2:

Eirene:

-Confused. Looked at you with an arched eyebrow and asked “Could you elaborate the meaning of….those words you just said?”

-Listened to you very intently like it was a fucking business meaning but at the end she still didn’t get the point of your “meaningless” jokes as she would like to call them

-Though even as she says that she actually once researched what your slang meant, and as she realized what she was doing her face turned red as she shut her computer

-Will sigh when she hears you say it near her or over text. But in private you once caught her practicing it by herself. “I just fanum taxed this company” you once heard her say in her room when she thought you were out

Thistle:

-She probably have heard some of the Sinners her age say it but doesn’t get it. It’s just made up words but you seem to like it

-Notes down the certain things you say in her journal every day. For example, she’ll have little things like: Sigma is a phrase to define someone is superior in looks or appearance. Can also be used in forms like “What the sigma” or “He’s so sigma

-She gets really red if you ever find these small snip its in her journal if you go through it. Stating it’s nothing

-Actually tried a few times to fit in with the younger Sinners by saying stuff like “Let her cook” but always get red afterward due to her straight forward expression and others just looking at her dumbfounded

Luvia Ray:

-Luvia doesn’t really know how to react, so Ray steps in. Ray is more cautious about how you use your words. “What does that mean? Is that a new term to call somone?” She would ask harshly but you quick explain it’s just funny slang and nothing to be took in seriously

-She is skeptical at first but finally accepts it. Luvia doesn’t really use it, but Ray proabably uses it to call creeps that look at Luvia. “Im gonna crash out on that dude if doesn’t stop glaring…”

-Luvia doesn’t really say it but sometimes she’ll talk to herself and when you ask about it she’ll answer with “Sorry…I’m being a bit delulu…is that how you use it in a sentence?”

Lady Pearl:

-Is curious about what you’re saying to say the least. “What are you saying, dear?”She’ll ask curiously as you explain to her

-Sometimes when she’s writing scripts for plays she’ll add in these “new words” she has discovered due to you

-She also sees this as a way to make you go to the plays with her. “But my dear, they are highly inspired by the words you have introduced me to, they are-” you halt her before she continued knowing if you argue any longer she’ll drag it for hours to persuade you.

-Sitting in the seats as the plays roll, a smile on her face as she wanted to see your reaction on how she put the words into the play.

-Though at the end of the play she’ll clap and exclaim loudly “They cooked didn’t they?” You had to stifle a laugh but she didn’t get why

Adela:

-Probably heard it before from the younger Sinners when giving them a haircut. Only chuckled at their words but never really asked

-Started asking because you started to say it around her. “What does that mean exactly?” She asked curiously after some time of you using it. After explaining she finally decided it’s just a way that younger people now have fun

-She’ll sometimes tease you about it but nothing serious. And she’ll also indulge in it a few times before. Mostly when you look stressed she’ll ask “Is the tea pipping hot?”

-Also the type to use the slang to compliment you (more like teasing) Started calling you “her goat” or “the goat” out of nowhere for a few days but stopped after you told her it was a bit embarrassing due to her calm demeanor when she said it

Enfer:

-She views your words as a new form of “art” Though you never got why she explained through a long almost 3 hours of how these words combined through the social class of the “sigma” being timid though reaching and beyond the levels of beauty of wealth while the “alpha” was less timid though the same. How the two contrasted…..yeah you forgot the rest

-Has made several of these words to show as art. All of them somewhat eerie and creepy but she stated “This shows the dynamics between the sigma, alpha, and the goat. The sculpture shows how they all bend together to create the dynamic.”

-Doesn’t care about why other people laughed at her words when she explained to them why the sculpture was influenced by. Would go rant for hours about how the words expanded our imaginations and influenced the way of thinking for us now.

-Probably has a notepad to write the phrases and the meaning/definition it means to her. If you ever flip through it you’ll find the small drawings to help her make sense of the word and other definitions for the word she thinks made sense. “Could you continue to list off some of the words that you have been saying? I find them very intriguing to say the least” She’ll ask 

Sorry if some of them are a little OOC I wasn’t there for some of the events 😞 If you have any thirsts, drabbles, or requests please feel free to interact with my inbox. I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you want a part 3 just ask for characters and I’ll write for them ><

[prodigaldaughteralice]

So, I was tipped off a while ago by a post that’s probably still in my queue (I have a long reblog queue u_u;; ) that a few words were changed in the US edition of Monstrous Regiment. As it’s my favourite Discworld book, and I’d only ever read the US edition, I tracked down a second-hand UK first edition online and had a re-read as soon as it came, with my battered old US edition next to me so I could check when anything pinged me as ‘off’. Here’s what I found, not counting minor UK->US spelling changes like turning “girlie” into “girly”.

(There may be more that I missed, I didn’t have both copies open the whole time, but I’m pretty familiar with this book. As my sister teased me about when I mentioned I’d done this comparison, I did have it in my bed for several years as a teenager so I could reread it whenever my insomnia was hitting particularly hard.)

Spoilers from here on out, of course.

The first two are just kind of pointless? Changing “coprolite” to “coprolith”, which is just a less common word for the exact same thing, and changing “riff-riff-raff” to “riffraff” feels like they forgot Jackrum was playing drunk in that scene. Whatever. These don’t bother me.

There are a few UK->US type changes in the next one (“wooly vest” to “woolen undershirt”) which similarly feel pointless to me, but what really gets my goat is the last word. “The man’s bare chests,” plural, being changed to “the man’s bare chest”. Because that’s foreshadowing, but it’s not a giveaway, because on a heavier (cis) guy they do hang separate. It’s a nice little touch, and they took it out.

The next one is the one I’d been tipped off to, and it’s the change I’m the most annoyed about. “Turned her chair to the fire/around him the kitchen worked” -> “turned her chair to the fire/around her the kitchen worked.” I’m sure whatever editor changed it didn’t do so with any kind of malice or agenda, they just weren’t paying enough attention and thought they were fixing a continuity mistake, but it’s just such beautiful writing that they removed.

Because they’ve just had this incredible, delicate, vulnerable conversation about the girl Jackrum left behind him, and that that girl was him, and that he has a son out in Scratz and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s leaving the army. Polly cries. And it’s Polly who suggests that he really can remain Jack Jackrum, he can go back to his son in medals and braid and be his father, and Jack gets to really settle in to the idea that he can be happy that way. Both those pronouns being “her” doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily; I always read it as Polly processing. But the switch between the two sentences is so beautiful. It’s a gentle closing of the conversation, it’s that girl being fully put behind him, and Sergeant Major Jack Jackrum (retired) getting to go on with his life.

The last one is just… odd. Inexplicable, and it’s the hardest to explain as just an editorial accident. They added a word that specifies something that was not previously specified. “One of them was Maladicta, in full uniform” becomes “one of them was Maladicta, in full female uniform.” I was thinking about it on this reread, and Mal is the only member of the squad who wasn’t publically outed at the Keep. Mal wasn’t involved in the actual raid— too busy gibbering and sucking on a sack of coffee beans— and at the trial Mal kind of stood in the back vibrating from caffeine overdose. Even Jackrum said “with vampires, who cares”. Only Polly knows about Maladicta.

And what that means is that Mal is the only member of the squad who could reasonably remain presenting as male in the army. Polly encourages a couple of young recruits in the very end that it’s their choice to enlist as men or as women, with Mal right beside her, and I think the original ambiguity there is really lovely— it doesn’t matter if Mal has an ‘a’ on the end at the moment, because Mal is there to help Polly fuck shit up, and that’s what matters. By adding the specificity, they just… took away a really nice bit of subtext, a really nice effect.

So yeah, I’m ticked off as a queer person about the (minor) subversion of the book’s general gender fuckery, but I’m almost more ticked off as a writer. Pratchett was so talented, and we talk about it a lot on a large scale of themes and motifs and characters, but he was also just so fantastic on a sentence to sentence level. This is craft! This is really beautiful, delicate writing, elegantly put together and perfected, and some US editors just. Took out some of it. And it’s still an incredible book! As I mentioned, I had it in my bed for years as a teenager so I could reread it over and over, it means a ton to me, it’s my favourite of his work and I love his work! But it hurts to see these little places where it was originally even better.

[positivelybeastly]

Goats Gremlin Gibber-Jabber part 2:

Oh we’re so back baby

Ahem ahem. First thing on the itinerary: Welcome back! Missed youuuu <3

Second thing:

HANK PUT EMMA BACK TOGETHER WHEN SHE WAS SHATTERED????

Hi in this session of my gibberish thoughts, my friend and I with our blogs made hank and Emma a thing, and there was something about them that made us so ill for them together. Granted my hank isn’t exclusive, but something with Emma clicked. And then. AND THEN

The fucking shattering of Emma, Hank discovering it after he had planned to try and cheer her up?

And then him DEDICATING himself to put her back together. And like like he got so far???

HE GOT CRAZY FAR BEFORE JEAN INTERVENED WITH THE PHEONIX.

I’ve been lost in the sauce from that moment on.

The fact that when someone said “Oh nobody liked her.” So everyone was a suspect, and he went “I liked her.” And then the fact he was convinced she couldn’t actually be dead, and then spent that time putting her back together even when the pieces were in the hundreds of THOUSANDS.

I’ve become ill from this (/pos) and I wanna hear your take on this section cause I just aaaagh.

Sincerely,

that weird fucking goat that keeps popping up and biting people.

Adding your addendum here so I can answer all in one go. :)

So, like . . . okay.

Hank and Emma's friendship is really special to me, and it all ties back to the way that Grant Morrison conceptualised Hank, when they came on to write New X-Men. It's worth noting that neither Hank, or Emma, were actually meant to be on the team when Morrison first pitched their story, they were originally going to be Colossus and Moira MacTaggert, but both had recently died. This is why Emma gets her diamond form secondary mutation - she's acting as the bruiser of the team in absence of Colossus.

So, how does Grant Morrison conceptualise Hank?

No dark secrets. Nothing to hide. The sweetest guy. The best heart.

These are the architects of modern X-Men, by the way. Morrison and Hickman. This is how they see Hank McCoy, and though they may have many flaws in their writing styles and their stories may fumble certain things, I think that they have an opinion worth noting. Their effect on modern X-Men is undeniable.

So, Emma and Hank meet, and they already have chemistry. They are both incredibly sharp, incredibly brilliant, incredibly witty, incredibly cultured individuals, and though they may (at this time) have very different moral compasses, it's very clear that there's a spark of friendship already, especially when you compare Hank's immediate sympathy to how Jean treats her literally a page later.

Something that's underrated about Morrison's Jean is that she's kind of not very nice a lot of the time, but you understand why. She's going through some shit in this series, and she has a very, very, very valid reason to hate Emma after Dark Phoenix, so her trying to reach out is what she thinks she should do, but calling her a bitch is what she wants to do, really - and Emma doesn't give a fuck. Or at the very least, she's very good at making it look like she doesn't give a fuck.

This is another aspect of why I think Hank and Emma have such good chemistry: they are both masters of control and appearance. They both spend so, so, so much time cultivating a specific image so that they can't be hurt - Hank obfuscates and hides behind big words, big concepts, big gestures, while Emma snarks and affects cool, sniping at anyone who might dare get close.

Like recognises like. I almost think it's a sort of game for them, to perform and poke at one another, knowing that they each know each other's secrets, but with an unspoken agreement that they won't go too far.

Emma jabs and pokes and prods, and Hank shuts her down in three sentences. If there were any malice or anger in this interaction, it wouldn't stop the way it does. There's no lingering animosity between them, there's no heat. It's two theatrical bitches in superhero clothes pretending that their personal lives aren't a mess by being extra bitchy at one another, and I think that they love that.

It's also worth noting that Hank, at this stage, is still an extremely moral presence, an unquestionable good guy (Threnody revisionism notwithstanding, don't at me, I've heard it before), and Emma is very much not. She's still the woman who was part of the Hellfire Club, who worked against the X-Men, who was part of Genosha, Magneto's regime - but Hank doesn't browbeat her with it. It only ever comes up when he's convinced that she's turned on them.

A moment of panic, but Emma doesn't take him to task for it - if anything, I like to think she might have actually been a bit grateful, because it made her plan seem all the more authentic, to have someone screaming that she can't do this. He then immediately apologises, and compliments her. It doesn't come up again. He judges her by her current actions, not by her past, and this is something that's very consistent with Hank, if you look at the wider tapestry of his life, because who else does he judge by his current actions and not his past?

Oh yeah. Hank forgives. Hank understands.

And I always find it interesting how he takes Scott and Emma's affair. He doesn't criticise Emma for it, but he does take Scott to task. Why? Well, it could be Morrison's take on who's responsible for the affair bleeding through, but I think it's more that Hank knows that Emma is still working on herself, still improving her behaviour, still in the process of becoming better, and he's willing to give her the space to do that, but Scott?

Scott, I think Hank believes has less of an excuse. But again, he doesn't make a thing of it until it comes to a boiling point. He warns Scott, and Scott doesn't listen. And when it's all said and done, Hank makes it clear that Scott and Emma's lives may be their own, but he has his own feelings on it, and he's capable of holding multiple emotional viewpoints at once.

Like, this is a lot of leeway and a lot of grace that Hank is affording Emma here, considering she was just as guilty of initiating the affair as Scott was, if not more so - but again. He expects better of Scott. He knows Scott knows right from wrong, and where his obligations lie, and he expects him to be faithful to his wife. Hank knows Emma is flirting, being very sexually open, but he knows that that is partly affectation, partly bait, partly exploration, and partly a fuck you aimed at Jean, who she just plain doesn't like. Harping on at her about it will not make her stop, and will only drive her not to trust Hank. And it becomes increasingly clear, as the series goes on, that Emma does trust and value Hank, quite a lot, actually.

Now, it's not like Emma needs an excuse to be cruel and to make a scene, but that's not really what this is, is it? Look at the order in which she addresses the journalist. She's offended - "I beg your pardon!" - but what at? "This man is a world-renowned scientist!"

She doesn't take offence to the idea that people hate mutants because trouble follows them where they go. She takes offence to her being insulting to Hank specifically. She elevates Hank, and degrades her opponent. This is not something Emma does often, she usually just skips to the degradation! Hank doesn't even expect it! Look at the little lines around his head in the panel with Emma blown up large in the psychic landscape! He was absolutely going to let that comment go by, and not make a thing of it, and Emma chose to make the moment about standing up for him, and he did not expect it.

But he values it, nonetheless. And he puts his paw on her, and thanks her.

Reminder, this is how she reacted to another man putting his hands on her just a few issues before.

Now, granted, we don't see where Logan's hand is, but the man's generally a gentleman, despite his reputation, so I think she just doesn't like to be touched . . . generally. But she doesn't mind it when Hank touches her, and thanks her for standing up for him. Something which she does not do for many people. Reminder, this is how she reacts to Jean having a straight up psychic fit in front of her.

Like, there's a degree to which this is bravado and humour, because Emma is tending to Jean here, but I guarantee you that this is not how she would have acted if Hank had been the one to fall in distress.

And going back to the panels where Logan is helping her up - I don't know if it's just me, but there's something very purposeful in the fact that Emma and Hank are both on the right hand side of the page, with Emma engaging her diamond form so that she doesn't have to feel, denying her own compassion, while Hank stands in shadow, looking mournful, defeated, quietly furious, unable to do anything but feel his compassion.

Perhaps that's something that Emma admires in Hank. The fact that he has no dark secrets, that he does, in at least some ways, wear his heart on his sleeve; that he has no choice but to feel. He is a good man. And it's easy to forget, in a world where cynical media and cynical people surround us, but there is something charismatic and likeable and warm about good people. Even if you might consider them foolish, people who fail to be good often envy those who try, even though they might face insurmountable odds.

Hank's refusal to accept that the world has to be a place of cruelty and disbelief and skepticism and fear has a way of rankling the cynics around him. It's one of my favourite things about him.

It has a way of paying off.

How often does Emma Frost listen to someone again . . ?

And then . . . yeah. We come to the assembly.

"Fuck you, I liked her."

She listened. She laughed. She spoke Byron back to him. Do you ever think about just how often Hank gets that? Fucking never, I bet!! It must just be so refreshing to quote, and for the other person to know.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Of course it's a romantic poet. Of course it's Byron.

And then, the assembly . . . ouuuuuuaghhh . . .

Like, people love for their characters to have feats, right? People love that Storm was the Regent of Arakko, and faced down the Horsemen. People love that Cyclops put the Void in a little box in his mind and told it no. People love that Jean chased down Enigma all the way through space and time and destroyed him. People love it when all the things that epitomise a character come together in a moment that speaks to the truth of them - their strength, their control, their refusal to give up. It's not just about power, it's about what that moment says about their personality, right?

What's Hank's?

It's putting together a 11,100,277 piece puzzle of a human body. Not with textbooks and screens around him, but by memory - and why? He says it's because he always loved jigsaw puzzles as a child, but that's not the real reason, is it? It's because it's important to him that she be complete, that she be afforded respect. It's important to him that someone showed that they cared.

It's because he thinks that there's a chance.

It's hope. It's sheer, bloody minded hope. 11 million pieces. It's insane. And yet. He did it, and it worked, and she was whole again.

Roses and wine and a good book and a baritone rendition of Gluck's Orpheus and Eurydice . . . oh, Hank. He even calls himself la bete, the Beast - a codename we know he doesn't really care for all that much, especially in light of his recent mutation - just so that he can affect playfulness and brightness and infectious good mood.

He really cared for her. And she really cared for him.

I seriously miss this dynamic. It was really very beautiful.

And thank you for the welcome back! It's good to be back!