#i should probably stop this is so damn long of a post now

[heshmmity]

i cant even fully explain how much i love bill and mabel's friendship. they paint their nails pink together. throwing sleepovers with candy and grenda, he is like a girl dad but uncle to all of the girls. (including pacifica, shes also a guest on parties when she isnt busy)

bill gives mabel dating tips (poorly. these tips suck.) and all these tips suck bc bill is a pathetic dude. he literally whines to mabel every time ford is busy with researches and ignores him for five minutes. mabel knitted like a million sweaters for him with personal designs (sooo much doritos jokes)

and they dont allow ford, stan or dipper on their sleepovers. bill teaches girls how to play all sorts of gamblings and at first he was like doing all sorts of giveaways to girls but then he realizes that he cant actually win them in damn poker. he lost a lot of sweets that day. sweets and dignity

i have so much headcanons for them helppppp

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Sabo analysis time!!!!

Do you guys ever think about how Sabo didn't visit Dressrosa to see Luffy again? And him meeting up with Luffy was probably his very last option to secure the fruit, otherwise he would probably avoid it? Cuz i do…

Let me elaborate.

So here's what we know from the source material:

We know Sabo and the other revolutionaries were there since the early morning since Hack was already inside the coliseum for RevArmy snooping reasons.

The prize of the Tournament was revealed after the Revs were already there.

Sabo/Koala were not in contact with Robin to know if the straw hats were anywhere near Dressrosa as seen by Koala saying "I hear Robin-san’s here in this country, too."

Sabo confronted Luffy about getting the Mera-Mera No Mi only after Hack lost during Block B and Luffy got out of his own block.

I had always assumed that Sabo showed up to Dressrosa for the Mera-Mera No Mi and meeting Luffy, but that really isn't the case. Idk why it took me so long to figure that out, it’s literally shown in the Episode of Sabo (EOS) explicitly. Although, the EOS isn't exactly source material. I cant find anywhere stating whether its canon or not, but I cant find anything that would have it conflict with the original plot so i see no reason why it wouldn’t be. All that evidence from before is canon though so even without the EOS, this claim still holds water.

Speaking more of the evidence we have from of the episode of Sabo, we see him snooping around the Colosseum during the tournament, we see the moment he realizes that Luffy is participating in the event, and we see the moment he realizes that Luffy cant participate any further.

Like look at him here. He looks absolutely unprepared for what he knows he has to do. And after this in the scene right before he starts talking with Luffy, he’s like literally walking to him as slowly as he possibly can. Taking pauses in his stride to probably think about how much of a bad idea this is.

Plus, at the beginning of the episode when he’s visiting Ace’s grave, he says “I guess both you and Luffy are both mad at me.”

Sabo has had so many opportunities to meet up with Luffy before he actually does, both in Dressrosa and since he regains his memory. But he doesnt. Because he cant. Because he’s terrified of being met with scorn, anger, or even violence from his beloved little brother.

Finally, we see him plucking up the courage to walk over to luffy. All surroundings are silent besides the loud footsteps coming from his approach echoing in the hallway.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

Then he stops.

Its dead quiet.

Sabo has been pretty much deadpan this entire time, but he then smiles before he says

“I wont let you have the Mera Mera No Mi, ‘Straw hat’ Luffy.”

This is a fairly serious thing that he’s saying to this man in a fake beard and outrageous helmet, and he’s terrified of this meeting with his brother, but he cant help but smile when he’s talking with him.

The conversation that continues is very confrontational, but suddenly something clicks in Luffy’s mind. His body relaxes from it’s tense posture, he starts to tear up, his speech slows,

Then he starts to scream with recognition.

That’s his big brother.

He’s alive…

He’s Alive!!!

He’s here! Right here! Right where he should be!

Alive. Living. Free!

Luffy GRABS Sabo’s face and propels himself towards him. Suffocating and probably giving his brother whiplash in that second within that assault-hug.

All of a sudden, Sabo’s fears of scorn, anger and violence all wash away.

Luffy loves him.

They have each other now.

And now, Sabo is on his way to get that god damn fruit.

Sabo absolutely didn’t think he was ready for this re-connection, but he’s so glad he went through with it.

He has his brother back, his other brother’s powers, and the bragging rights of being able to flaunt both.

This is what I'm sayin with the "seems like fire favors these brothers" post I made. The fact that both the mera mera no mi and Luffy and Sabo were all in the same place to come together at once is a crazy coincidence. How many coincidences does it take, for a happenstance to be Fate? Probably that amount.

In conclusion:

Get this man a therapist. Please.

Heres another sabo analysis if you wanna hear more

Thank you for reading my ramblings about a fictional man. I think about him a completely average amount.

[leashybebes]

i was yapping at @sazzynatural about my hurdle headcanon and then my hand slipped and now here we are, i guess!

tweaked a little and posted on ao3 [here]. thanks, y'all!

"Hey, Evan?"

"Yeah?" Buck calls, from where he's checking through his cupboards, making a shopping list. Tommy doesn't respond immediately and he turns back from where he's surveying the spice rack to look at him. "What's up?"

Tommy has that fond look on his face that, as far as Buck is concerned, might as well just be what his face looks like. The way that Tommy looks at him lights him up inside. He doesn't think anyone has ever looked at him that way, the way that he catches Tommy looking, so soft and endeared, like just looking at Buck makes him happy. It's - 

"I love you."

Buck's heartbeat roars in his ears. 

"Y-you - um. What? No, wait, I mean. I heard you. Tommy, that's - "

"Evan." He still looks fond, and that should be impossible, because Buck is screwing up, he has ring-side seats to this, is actively watching himself screw up, and Tommy's still looking at him like - like that. "Stop spiraling. You don't need to say it back, I just wanted you to - "

"No, no, it's not - uh - I, uh. I said I'd meet Maddie for coffee during her shift and if I don't leave now I'm gonna be late, so I, um. C-can we talk about this later? O-over dinner, maybe?"

Tommy's shoulders slump a little at that. "Uh. Sure. If you like."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that'd be great, I'll be back, don't uh - don't go anywhere, I won't be long, I just really - really need to get that coffee with Maddie, I can't be late but uh - that's - that's great, Tommy."

He sees Tommy's eyebrows go up, sees him mouth great, and then he's out the door.

Oh, shit.

***

The drive to dispatch goes in a blur, and he must look pretty freaked out because as soon as Maddie sees him, she quickly finishes her call and drags him into the breakroom.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I - I thought we could get coffee," Buck says lamely, and she gives him the big sister eyebrows. "Really," Buck says a bit frantically. "Can - can we have coffee?"

Maddie rolls her eyes, but she pours them both a coffee and hands him his, putting the table between them and leaning against it.

"I have fifteen minutes. Talk."

"Tommy said he loves me," Buck blurts.

"Buck, wow. That's amazing." Maddie's eyes widen at him over her coffee cup. "Wait. Not amazing?"

"I didn't - uh. I didn't say it back?" Buck says, and feels his heart sink. 

"Wait, you didn't?" Maddie tilts her head, looks honestly baffled. Which - fair. Buck is a little obsessed. "Do you - not?"

Of course I do, Buck thinks. How could I not?

"I - I'm being intentional," Buck says, and it sounds hollow already. "I don't wanna rush it and I had like - a timeline."

"Did - did you tell him about the timeline?"

"N-not in so many words," Buck admits.

"Evan! Please tell me you didn't just run out on the poor guy," Maddie pleads, over the sound of the breakroom door opening again. Buck doesn't even care about a potential audience, he's so suddenly miserable at the way he left Tommy at the loft.

"I - I didn't run," he says although - it was probably a close thing. "I…I told him I had to get coffee with you and we'd talk about it later," he admits, his voice getting smaller with every word.

Maddie's face does the thing - the scrunched up pout like she's holding back on telling him that he's a damn moron. Buck scrubs his hands over his face.

"Is this Buck's hot pilot?" Josh asks from where he's pouring coffee.

Buck hears Maddie's mm-hm. 

"He said he loves me," he says, still hiding behind his hands.

"Con…gratulations?" Josh says dubiously. "Or, how awful for you? I'm really not clear on the desired response here."

"He thinks it's too soon," Maddie says. "He had a timeline. Which he did not share."

"We were taking it slow!" 

"I hate to break it to you, but the way that man looks at you is not slow," Josh says.

"He's not wrong," Maddie says, and Buck hangs his head. Because they're right. They're both right.

"Look, you know me. I stumble into things, I end up too serious too fast and it blows up in my face. I - I really didn't want it to blow up in my face. And then he just goes and - and looks at me like that, and says that, and I don't - guys, I think I really screwed up."

Maddie gives him a sympathetic look. 

Josh gives him a deeply, deeply unsympathetic one. "Oh, I have totally dated a Tommy."

"I'm sorry, what?" Buck glares at Josh who looks supremely unimpressed.

"Calm down, ankles," he tuts, and Buck is absolutely going to kill Eddie. Or Chim. He's going to kill someone. How does everyone know about that? "I said I dated a Tommy, your man's virtue is safe."

"What does that mean, you dated a Tommy?"

"Look, not everyone knows when they're five like me, and not everyone goes from adorably clueless to out and proud as fast as you. Sometimes, and I know this might be a little revolutionary for you, Buck, but sometimes the queer experience? Fucking miserable for a really long time. So sometimes you just want to grab happiness where you can find it, as soon as you find it."

Buck thinks about the things he's learned about Tommy over the months they've been seeing each other, each one a little treasure to be hoarded, a part of the puzzle that makes up the man that he already can't imagine life without - the asshole father, the dead mom, the army, the closet, the loneliness - and he wants to slap himself. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, his heart sinking further at the message Tommy's sent.

Do you want me to cancel the reservation?

Buck turns his phone to show Maddie and Josh the message.

"What reservation?" Maddie asks

"Dinner," Buck says miserably. "Date night."

"Okay," Josh says. "Some of us are supposed to be working and don't have time for your little baby bi crisis. Evan Buckley, are you actually going to fumble that man? Before you answer, be aware that two thirds of the population of WeHo will get a hard-on the moment he's back on the market even if they won't know why."

"He's not going back on the market," Buck snaps. "I just - I just need to talk to him."

"There we go," Josh says, rolling his eyes and disappearing with his mug of coffee, and an idiot called back over his shoulder.

Maddie's a little kinder, hugging him quickly. "Tell him how you feel, Buck. Talk it out."

***

By the time Buck gets back to the loft, he has another message from Tommy.

Hey, I headed back to my place. Let me know if you want to talk, or if you want dinner. I'm sorry if that was too much. It doesn't have to change anything.

"Goddamnit," Buck grumbles, throwing the Jeep back into gear. The drive to Tommy's has never felt so long, and he sits outside for long enough that the neighbor across the street is just openly staring through the blinds. It's enough to propel him out of the car and up to the door.

It takes Tommy a minute to answer when Buck knocks and he looks - surprised to see him, honestly. Buck feels a horrible twist of guilt.

"Can I come in?"

"Evan. Of course. You want a coffee or something?"

"No," Buck says, trailing Tommy into the kitchen. "I - I did have one with Maddie, I'm kinda…vibrating out of my skin enough as it is."

"I'm sorry. That's not what I was aiming for."

"Y-you don't need to be - Tommy, I - "

"Hey, look, it's fine," Tommy says, and it looks like he really believes it. Like it really is completely fine that he told Buck he loves him and Buck's response was to buffer internally for a minute and then run out of his own damn apartment like his ass was on fire. Tommy taps his knuckles on the table between them in what Buck recognises as a nervous gesture. "I know that I'm not - I'm not the forever guy, and that's okay. I didn't say it to make you say it back. I said it because it's true and I wanted you to know."

"What are you talking about?"

"That I - " Tommy honestly looks a little puzzled. "What I said, this morning. It wasn't - there weren't any strings attached."

"You're not the forever guy? What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that - that I know I'm not exactly a…long-term prospect, and that's okay."

Okay? It's so far from okay. It's the worst thing Buck has ever heard.

"How are you not a long-term prospect? That's - that's the dumbest thing I ever heard, take that back."

"Evan. I used the L word and you couldn't get out of there fast enough. It's okay. You don't have to try to make me feel better. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Buck snaps, rounding the table to get closer to Tommy, catching hold of his wrist. "I'm not - look, I had a timeline, which, Maddie pointed out I didn't actually tell you about that, so that's my bad. But it was a timeline for me, to stop me going too fast and falling too hard and - and going full Buck. I didn't expect that you would - "

"Stomp all over this mysterious timeline?" Tommy asks, his eyebrows going up.

"And I'm now realizing how stupid that was. Did - did you mean it?"

"Evan. Of course I meant it." He glances down at where Buck is still squeezing his wrist, not quite holding his hand "I - honestly, I didn't think it would come as a surprise, I'm not exactly - "

"I love you."

Tommy blinks. "Evan - "

"Please believe me. Tommy. God, I screwed this up so bad, but - I do. I do love you. You are the forever guy. You're my forever guy. I promise. I just - I was just scared. But about me, not about you. Never about you. Tommy, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I - "

"Evan. Say it again."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Buck lets himself sway forward, lets his forehead meet Tommy's shoulder. "Not the forever guy. You're a goddamn idiot is what you are."

"I'm your idiot," Tommy promises, and Buck laughs shakily.

They love each other. They love each other.

[pi-creates]

I can’t stop being upset about Veilguard’s writing, and apparently the only way I can get it out of my thoughts is to put it down in words, so here we go…

I’m frustrated, I’m upset, and the longer I think about the way this game was written, the more problems present themselves… and I bloody hate that. It feels like a first draft writing effort, and every time I’m reminded that this game was in development for so many years, I cannot fathom this being the end result. Dragon Age 2 had 16 months of development, and it feels more cohesive and put together writing-wise. I can see the years of polish in the visuals, but the spectacle of the game doesn’t blind me to all the problems in the writing.

Naturally, these are personal opinions, I am genuinely thrilled for people who have played the game and enjoyed it – I wish I could be there enjoying it with you – but clearly these things get under my skin more and spoil the experience for me when they aren’t problems for you. And I also acknowledge there are genuine good parts of the game which I enjoy, but those moments aren’t enough to overshadow the negative experiences that irk me.

And because this post has apparently gotten away from me… I’m gonna put some headings to summarise the problems I’m having, because otherwise this is just a massive rant with no structure.

Show me things, stop just telling it to me.

So much of the game feels like writer’s notes where they put “what the player should take away from this scene” and instead of being creative with how they do that, they just say it verbatim. My immersion in this game was being broken by the game reminding me it’s a video game – which yes, I know it is, but I want to be invested in this world and feel like I’m part of it.

Varric and the game’s own pop-up system is the main problem that’s consistent through the whole game – constantly dropping narration or mission summary where they have zero problem dropping exposition on us and/or spoiling future content. Forget letting me explore these things and reach my own conclusions, the game is going to make sure I know exactly the interpretation I’m meant to have for every moment.

And it’s so damn frequent, I feel like they don’t think I’m paying attention and therefore need to constantly poke me with reminders instead of trusting me to reach my own conclusions. Do they not trust me to have an attention span long enough to go on a walk with Davrin without reminding me at the end of the walk that I did that?

To add to that problem, I absolutely hate how the writing just has people know things – they shouldn’t know this, they shouldn’t be talking to us about this, all evidence points to them not being able to know or be ok discussing this, but for some reason they do.

The Veil Jumpers suddenly just know how to translate and interact with ancient elven artifacts, ignore how the Dalish have been trying to do that since the fall of the Dales (and realistically, even before that) and their efforts over those hundreds of years were a scrap, a pittance of what could be known. But I guess the Veil Jumpers are just better than those hundreds of years in the few years they’ve been active.

Oh, and the scary reputation of the Dalish is just gone? These people just go to the elves they have deemed “savages” because they simply know these ones have good intentions? This world has been established as very untrusting of the intentions of other groups, but that’s simply gone now for this one – I wish I was shown how this started in some way instead of just being told it’s chill now.

And don’t get me started on Strife and Irelin and their seemingly endless knowledge that they shouldn’t have. I read the comics, I get that they’d probably know about the Dreadwolf and have a vested interest in learning more once that particular bit of information was revealed to them – but they somehow also just know about the mask Cyrian is wearing? They know it will influence him but not control his will? Why do you know this with no doubt whatsoever?

Why can’t these things just be presented as theories? Or give us something to find and reference where that information comes from? I want to learn things without just having characters tell me things they know.

And overall, I hate how this game decides to just exposition dump information on us, then we sit around and talk about the exposition dump – it’s overwhelming in magnitude. It feels like such a passive way to have us engage with everything, and this is supposed to be an interactive experience. Instead of being force-fed exposition in big chunks, drip feed details, let us put the puzzle together, let us gather and discuss what we learn with multiple interpretations like the RPG this is meant to be.

And this exposition problem also ruins the stakes in the game for me. Personal interpretation, probably, but the stakes in this game feel artificially inflated to me via having characters constantly tell Rook they are going up against the biggest threat ever. We bring in past heroes of the series to reiterate that, how they think we’re up against worse things than they faced… and I don’t feel that. Telling me constantly how hopeless things are, but every obstacle ends up being overcome relatively easily and without great losses… no, I don’t feel the stakes are real.

Oh, and hearing the talk of how all of Thedas is in trouble, there is so much destruction and only Rook can save them… why don’t you find a way to show me that? Because I’m not feeling that, I’m not seeing it, and I’m starting to think the Inquisitor is making stuff up so Rook doesn’t ask them to get involved again when they’re so busy.

This is a lore problem in the series…

Plot holes and wonky lore can happen, it’s not surprising… especially when there are three games prior to this as well as several books, comics, and other branches of the universe. There have been inconsistencies since the start, and a lot of it doesn’t matter – I don’t care if the second moon is forgotten about, the moon not being there isn’t going to make a problem with the way the story is told since that moon is never something elaborated upon in the plot.

This game though… it has problem that are both related to information in this game not being consistent with previous games, and information within its own contained plot contradicting itself.

I’m not going to beat the dead horse of “this isn’t how the previous games did it/explained it”, people who played the previous games are aware, I don’t see a point of elaborating in detail all the instances of this. Just take some dot points of the one’s I noticed:

The Crows are a horrifying organisation that are suddenly presented wholesome

The Qun offering to rehabilitate Karash is horrifying and it’s presented wholesome

Slaves are meant to be everywhere in Tevinter, but we don’t see that

Racism is supposed to be rampant in Tevinter (and other nations, but particularly here for any non-human), and we also don’t see that

Handling pure lyrium is fine now (unless you’re Harding)

Adult Dalish without vallaslin (Elgar’nan’s captives)

Fenharel’s agents are just gone now – as are all signs of mass elven exodus from cities

Solas’ opinion on blood magic is suddenly negative instead of neutral

Spirits dying is given the same weight as people dying

Flemeth…….just everything about Flemeth and Morrigan

Re-write of the after credits scene in Inquisition to recontextualise the Flemeth and Solas interaction

Isabela’s attitude towards Shathann sending Taash away without their knowledge (the comics make me doubt she’d be cool with this)

Non-Dalish elves knowing things about ancient elves and elven language

Blight sickness and how darkspawn are “born” (some leeway for this one since the blight is overall just different in this one, but it does feel less interesting this way)

Morrigan naming the Crossroads in lieu of the true name being lost to time, but everyone uses the term now

Crossroads looking different through elven eyes

You can’t just make people be magic/not magic (me side-eyeing Illario and his random ability to do magic now)

This is a contained problem in this game…

What troubles me more is the inconsistencies within the same game… that isn’t just deciding “this is how it works now in this iteration”, this is a problem that they wrote into existing, then either didn’t notice or didn’t resolve appropriately. And granted, some of these things aren’t inherently plot holes, but when you put certain aspects under inspection, it doesn’t make things look good.

For starters… I have to talk about Varric. Or more accurately, not-Varric.

I’m under the impression that not-Varric is simply Rook’s memory of Varric being projected for them. I personally don’t think there’s some extra level of Solas interference in what Rook is seeing moment to moment… and I feel the need to state that because Rook’s memory cannot conjure up information that Rook doesn’t know.

So why does not-Varric point out that the ritual dagger is the dagger from DA2?

Rook could not recognise it, there is absolutely no reason for Rook to even theorise that – so not-Varric should not be able to impart this knowledge to Rook. And what makes this worse for me, aside from being an impossible situation as the plot presents it, is that this observation doesn’t matter in the slightest. They put this backstory to the McGuffin Dagger and I don’t know why since all it does is create a plot hole. The only purpose I can see for this moment existing at all is to bolster the illusion that not-Varric is real and trying to help with the cause in whatever way possible.

Then there are other issues with Varric not being alive which makes other character’s lack of talking about him feel awful. Like, it’s not natural the way people avoid mentioning him when it would be very appropriate to do so – and I understand that to an extent, the game’s gotta game – they want to surprise us and therefore the characters aren’t going to blatantly give the surprise away early. But the Inquisitor doesn’t ask after him at all? Doesn’t mention how Kirkwall is coping now that the viscount is dead? Dorian doesn’t say anything after learning Varric found Solas in his city and then died? Isabela has nothing to say about Varric until after the illusion is broken for Rook?

It makes it feel like Varric’s friends (aside from Harding, the only person who seems to actively mourn him at the start of the game) don’t give two shits that he’s gone.

That’s not even accounting for how characters don’t bother to check in with Rook who is constantly talking with the companions about their various issues of mourning, hearing voices or apparitions, and just checking in with them overall – but none of that is seemingly reciprocated.

Frankly, this makes me feel awful. I feel awful for Varric being seen as so disposable that his friends don’t mention him or his absence. I feel awful for Rook who is apparently not worth the direct effort that they offer others.

And I try to think of how a new player to this series would feel about all of this – because Varric was just some guy who walked us through a tutorial in this game. Most of our time with him is fake, any connection I saw form between Rook and Varric in this game isn’t real – but then Rook mourns Varric more than he mourns the companions we have spent most of the game with.

I don’t like it.

And I don’t like the utilisation of returning characters. Morrigan, or as she’s utilised in this game deus-ex-Morrigan, has a new view of Flemeth and therefore she will take on Mythal’s soul fragment so she can again swoop in and save the day by handing us the means to get a reconciliation type ending… it couldn’t be something that characters in this game figure out, just have a returning character provide us with the magic solution. Also ignore how the whole reason Morrigan was afraid of her mother in the DAO and DAI was that her body would get taken over by her spirit… but I guess that doesn’t happen now. We can just create new rules for this iteration because it’s easier to tell the story this way.

Solas is also just… I’m so upset by what was done with him. He was a character in DAI who told half-truths or lied by omission, leaving others to assume false information without him actually saying it – it was never just blatant lies to take advantage of others. And his motivations were about restoration of something he felt he had robbed the world, it was about righting what he viewed as a mistake which lead to such a cascade of problems that he needed to somehow rectify it. Whether you agree with his point of view or his desires doesn’t matter, his principles remain the same in terms of what motivates him.

Then this game happens and he’s just a liar constantly, and not even a clever one if you can apparently just trick him up with a “woopsie, this isn’t the real dagger”, and he also apparently has no insight into the idea that Rook would anticipate that.

They make him act like the worst interpretation someone could have of him, the thing he actively was trying to tell us was a false interpretation in DAI and the comics. But history was written and remembered by those who experienced the negative outcomes of his choices, and they remembered that as the greatest evil in comparison to what else could have been. But apparently in this game, that’s the truth now. His motivation is about his desires and he cares nothing for the people who has hurt or will be hurt. But it’s ok, because just as easily as his motivation changed between DAI and Veilguard, it will be changed again at end game if you listen to deus-ex-Morrigan.

Then there are smaller things, but things that really would have been caught if someone was just paying a little bit of attention…

Like Harding and Emmrich going camping in Fereldan… which if we’re to believe the things the Inquisitor was saying about Southern Thedas, I don’t think you’re going to have a fun trip. But I’m glad they’re able to find some time for a vacation while the refugees are getting blighted all over.

Or Rook actively saying “I should talk to Varric” directly in front of characters in the lead up to end-game, and those characters choosing to completely ignore that.

Or in Neve’s companion story, Aelia deciding to interrogate the witness to the red lyrium deal right next to where it happened. She didn’t need to be in the area, she was puppetting the smuggler, and she clearly has insight into what the person is seeing and doing while puppetting them. So I guess she’s just there so we can figure out she was involved.

Or the game telling us that Anaris need Cyrian to perform rituals for him since Anaris doesn’t have a physical body to do them himself… except he apparently doesn’t because he can kill Cyrian when he disobeys. I still would like to know if Cyrian ever died originally, by the way, and if so how he’s back and seemingly normal – this game likes to answer big lore questions like it’s nothing, but they just gloss over details like this.

Or how in Emmrich’s missions, Manfred’s spirit dies and can just be brought back to life… so I guess spirits dying means nothing if they can be brought back with their memory and personality intact. So that Solas flashback where we were supposed to be appalled that spirits died? Apparently there was nothing lost there, someone just needs to revive them and they can carry on as normal.

Or how the rewrite of DAI’s ending cutscene implies that Solas killed Flemeth/Mythal… before he had the power to do so since the whole reason he has been able to do anything in this game is because he absorbed her amassed power. So Flemeth/Mythal would have to let her power go willingly since Solas should not be able to forcibly take it, but clearly, she didn’t since the dialogue we’re given is her being reluctant. Solas apparently has the power he needs to do things when the plot demands it, but also no power when the plot demands it (aka, when Rook needs to prove they’re better than him).

Or the crew making a fake Ritual dagger near end game. For no reason whatsoever. They just decided to do that knowing it would only be a prop, but they had no plans that even involved a prop at that point – so they just did this because the plot told them they had to.

And speaking of that Ritual dagger… all the old elves want that dagger for one reason of another, but they never seem to try to get it when they can, or they don’t seem too concerned when it’s not in their grip anymore. Solas doesn’t try to hold onto it after Varric gets stabbed. Elgar’nan doesn’t try to pick it up after it kills Ghilan’nain, in spite of him knowing it’s the one thing that can kill him… nope, just leave it there and peace out.

Or my personal most hated thing – Isseya and her stupid motivation making no sense.

I cannot fathom the logic of having Isseya, a warden who was forced to blight griffons, who came to resent this order as she watched the griffons go mad, made it her mission to safeguard a clutch of eggs, takes the blight from the eggs into herself while using magic to put the eggs into status, then goes off to her calling which doesn’t actually end in her death… and somehow, 400 years later, she’s decided that since those eggs have hatched and the griffons are healthy and unblighted, the thing she wanted, but they’re in the hands of wardens which she doesn’t really like, so now she’s gonna go get those griffons to blight them.

Literally doing the thing that made her so mad at the wardens. Because she wants to save the griffons from the wardens and their cruelty… by repeating it… I just… this is nonsense.

If she’s capable of articulating that she’s mad at the wardens for their cruelty to the griffons, then she shouldn’t be repeating it thinking she’s saving the griffons. If she was just keeping the griffons captive to keep them away from the wardens, then I could buy that, but adding the element of her wanting to blight them just makes this nonsensical.

Oh and never talk the First Warden down – it will make the final scenes with Isseya even worse if he tells you about the feather from her griffon and show it to her. Because I don’t even think Isseya dies in that variant of the cutscene, she just says sorry and rolls on the floor while I guess Rook and Davrin let the griffons out…

Who is Rook?

Usually, in a game like this, choices are what make us feel like an active participant in the world. It helps us build up our own character and determine how/why they behave the way they do, and also how the world around them is shaped by the consequences of those moments.

But this game feels so stripped of choice, especially choice which is any way related to morality or priorities that aren’t standard ‘Hero traits’. Rook will always do the right thing, they can’t be motivated by personal desires, excitement, monetary gain, fame, etc…. and when Rook is forced to make a choice, there is no option which would be looked at as unreasonable by companions. They might give us an approval/disapproval pop up, but it never really feels like Rook is capable of being incompatible with anyone, they will always be seen as justified in companion’s eyes. And to me, this makes Rook as the game presents them incredibly bland.

Most of Rook’s unique characterisation happens in the character creator – the game gives us minimal chances to expand or form a personality for Rook that is significantly different from any other person who plays the game. We do the heavy lifting here, we transpose qualities on Rook because the game won’t give us meaningful opportunities to do that.

And not only do I feel like the game lacks choices that would help us define Rook, it lacks decisions that make me feel like I’m having any impact on the world overall. I can defend Minrathous or I can defend Treviso… this is the one choice we make which seems to actually shape the world we play in.

And it doesn’t even come up as something Rook can regret in the sequence about regrets… Rook apparently is faced with only regrets that are the result of other people’s decisions to volunteer to do something. But the one thing where Rook actually has to actively choose something, something they are actually responsible for the suffering on the side they don’t defend… that isn’t something they can regret.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Surely, if Rook should regret anything it should be the thing they feel direct responsibility for, no? But Rook doesn’t. Because Rook doesn’t regret anything they do, because they aren’t written with choices that they can regret since they aren’t seen as responsible for negative outcomes.

Honestly, that sequence might as well have been about mourning or sadness rather than regret, because Rook has to be upset at the loss of companions, we don’t get to influence that. But Rook isn’t regretful – that’s how they get out – but I can’t help but wonder why they didn’t then make us able to actively regret the legitimate choices we make, rather than feeling regret for our companions deciding to risk themselves.

Rook feels like an outside observer to everything that happens around them. They are the mediator, the sounding board, the magic-8-ball for decision making when companions need a push because they’re stuck. Sure, they do things, but for an RPG the way they go about things feels so linear.

And on another note… why is Rook seen as important? They start championing Varric’s cause in his absence, they want to stop the veil coming down and that starts with stopping Solas, then stopping Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. But to the outside observer, Rook is just some guy who says they are on an important missions, and they really need to speak with all these important leaders of factions – just trust them, I’m sure the First Warden is happy to make time for a meeting. And also the First Talon of the Crows, I’m sure they are fine with just some foreign person saying they need to meet your leader.

What I’m trying to get at is that Rook has no title, your group isn’t given any proper title or status which these people can look at and assume Rook is being truthful, trustworthy, or even worth their time. No one has any reason to hear Rook out, but in this game, they either just do, or they don’t and it’s because they’re actually a bad guy.

But Rook is no one special. They realistically shouldn’t be trusted like they are, they should absolutely be struggling to be taken seriously by others but it’s portrayed as unfair when that does happen. But they’re the protagonist, and it’s like everyone in the world simply knows that. I want Rook to struggle, I want them to grow and prove themselves, but it feels like we skip passed that to get straight to the fantasy of being in charge and considered fit for that role. 

Pacing and feeling like something was missing…

The start and ending throw a lot at us and expect us to keep on running – but then the middle portion of the game suffers due to the companions putting a stop sign on the plot so you can do their companion quests. And they aren’t shy about telling you “you need to stop and do our quests or we’ll be distracted at end game”… and again, thank you game for explaining game mechanics to me.

I was going to complete character quests, because if I care about the characters of course I’m going to do that. Having to actually pause the plot and have the characters explain to you that you have to care… I don’t know how to explain this, but it immediately took me out of the fragile immersion I was trying to get into. It makes me upset with the companions for reasons I can’t put into words. Maybe it’s because in one fell swoop it made me see them as checklists to be completed instead of people I wanted to know? I’m not sure, if someone had a similar reaction to this moment and has a better explanation, I would love to be enlightened on what it is that makes me so uncomfortable about this.

But I digress, the problem here is that the plot grinds to a halt. We stop doing things which feel like we’re advancing our plan of stopping the big baddies, we just kind of patter around and make sure our companions feel ok. And most of those missions to help our companions aren’t connected to the enemy we’re facing… Aelia, Anaris, Hezenkoss, Illario, The Dragon King, Isseya – they aren’t agents of the big baddies, they are just enemies that pop up at the same time as the big baddies are around, and are therefore making the situation worse.

So yes, we’re still doing stuff, but it feels like fluff. It feels like a detour while we just hope the world doesn’t burn while we stop to go on another picnic.

This is something that happens in a lot of games, the urgency isn’t real because you can stop progressing plot to go for a long walk if you want to – but in none of the other games did it feel so blatant to me. I still felt like most of the little tasks in the interim of plot advancement were at least advancing the cause in little ways… I don’t feel that with a lot of the things that happen in the middle of the game. It just becomes about companion missions; the bad guys will wait until we sort that out, the blight will stop advancing so we can have family dinners and go for walks.

And I really don’t know how to explain this, but it feels like something is missing in how the story progresses. Like extra things were meant to be happening and they are just not there. Maybe this is another part of how the game often just tells me things that happen in scene transitions, or it’s me really wishing there were more actual plot advancing missions in the middle of the game.

This problem I think also is most evident in the romances. Veilguard seems to take its romance pacing more from the Mass Effect games than the previous Dragon Age games – and while it was acceptable in Mass Effect to have very few romance scenes, and predominantly only having one big scene which culminates at end game, but suddenly introducing it in this series makes it feel like a huge downgrade from previous instalments.

It feels like we’re missing things, we’re given banters by companions commenting on the progress of our relationship and our partner can talk about how close they feel to our Rook – we’re given the impression our relationship is strong and established midway through the game. But with how strong the characters talk, it feels like we should have experienced so many more interactions with our partner to substantiate that.

For comparisons sake, in DAI if you enter a romance prior to going to the Winter Palace, you get romantic dialogue with your partner if they’re present, you get a dance, you get to feel like you’re in a relationship as it’s developing into something deeper. You get more interactions as the game goes on, moving from spoken interest, kisses, and intimacy (in most cases). It’s a slow build, and let’s you feel the build up by giving you glimpses of each step as the relationship develops, and then letting you just experience being in the relationship.

This game feels like it gives us the bare minimum in actual content, but has characters talk about how established the relationship is. The heavy lifting is again left to us to interpret all these blank spaces and fill in how this relationship is developing. The problem isn’t inherently with what the game gives us, it's what it doesn’t.

It lets us choose a relationship in the middle of the game, then it doesn’t give us all the progression – rather it gives us the minimal amount of snippets to meet the checklist of “they express interest, they mutually agree to be in a relationship, the relationship is consummated physically”. Sure, we can continue to pick flirt/love based dialogues, but it doesn’t feel nearly as strong as the banters seem to be telling us it is. And over all, we can go a very long time between each progression point.

I love this franchise, and I so desperately wanted to like this instalment… and instead I feel hollow.

[siffrins-therapist]

🦇 ernrenephandre follow

lordjosephandreispoterianfightme reminded me of THIS batshit ask I got last year, so ofc I now need to inflict it on all my new followers uwu

I'll also go ahead and link my (very correct) meta post about Lady IJK's characterization, and since xe reminded me of this ask, here's Lord's post about why Issue 43.5 should be considered canon, despite what de Plume's forward says. Enjoy!

🫛 howaremysweetiepees follow

[Image description: Screenshot of an anonymous ask sent to ernrenephandretruther that says "Jsyk just BC you're the Savior of Vaugarde, doesn't mean anything you say about The Cursing of Château Castle is canon. Even though de Plume wrote Issue #43.5 with that Thank You in the forward, doesn't mean anything. They just wanted to appease your headcanons about that stupid side character rejoining the team and getting Lady Irene-Janine-Karine all weepy BC you can't handle the complexities of her character!!! I'd say stick to ao3 but if the events of 43.5 are anything to go by you're crab at planning anything, let alone writingg a full meta post or fic. So maybe just stick to your pilgrimage or whatever and spare the rest of us your fangirling." Ernrenephandretruther replies "2/10 anon hate. Too long-winded, de Plume themself says 43.5 is non-canon, and anon, I cannon (sic) stress this enough, I AM NOT MIRABELLE CHEVALIER. I AM LITERALLY MWUDU AND WAS TRAVELING IN KA BUE AND BAKTAN DURING THE FREEZING THERE ARE PICTURES ON MY BLOG, FEATHERS AND THREAD!!! End description]

Didn't like 90% of TCoCC blogs get that copy-pasta last year? Damn, I can't tell if anon's just salty about H. Mirabelle getting a whole-ass book written as a thank-you (FOR SAVING A COUNTRY, WHICH THE AUTHOR LIVES IN, ANON, MAKES CRABBING SENSE TO ME THEY'D WANT TO THANK HER), hated 43.5, or just another Lady IJK white knight who thinks any criticism of her characterization is a direct attack.

🦇 ernrenephandretruther follow

Probably all 3 ngl

🎃 changeoffates follow

Great Change I got the same anon! It's been sitting in my inbox for a year! I am still flabbergasted!!

And jw OP but why's your language set to Poterian?

🦇 ernrenephandretruther follow

Believe me, I'm still confused!

And I'm transferring to university in Poteria so I've been studying the language. I took it in school with Vaugardian but I'm kinda rusty :/ The only reason I know Vaugardian still is cause of ernrenephandre porn LMAO

🧂 lordjosephandreispoterianfightme

Anyone else get this ask since this was posted two days ago???

#fates and wells anon maybe learn to let go or w/e #i dont go here but ist that one of your Change teachings or something? #pretty sure your still going through it and should talk to someone not send out copy-pastas #tbh p sure anon is just a savior mirabelle hater idk why her antis are so fucking annoying #dont you all have anything better to do????

103 Notes

🌠 loop-garou follow

If staff could stop terming me that'd be great

🥐 mysiblinginchange follow

u've literally been posting pictures of squiggles that give everyone a headache????

🌠 loop-garou follow

Skill issue.

382 Notes

☕ hauntedteacup

So was that list where people were trying to figure out which ao3 account belongs to the Savior deleted or...

#cuz i have a theory #dm me if you're interested i don't want to risk getting flagged or something

2 Notes

🎭 anguished-actor follow

Gonna kms that saviorship fic got so popular it was mentioned in the newspaper

🐌snailsforthesnailgod follow

OP don't you live in Ka Bue?

🎭 anguished-actor follow

So you understand my astonishment and horror

🌠 loop-garou follow

Here's the link to the fic for the confused people in the notes :)

🎭 anguished-actor follow

Your never satisfied until my activities page is unusable

🌠 loop-garou follow

You're* :)

#didnt someone print out and bind a bunch of copies of that fic? #and handed them out at cons? #not shocked it got mentioned in the paper ngl #there's even rumors h. euphrasie owns a copy

729 Notes

⚔️ saviors-of-vaugarde-news follow

The latest report from Dormont's House of Change states that people staying there are still seeing ghosts, but most recent accounts put these ghosts mainly in the corridors and common areas. They are no longer being seen in the dorms and classrooms, and reports are becoming few enough that Head Housemaiden Euphrasie told journalists she believes the ghosts should fade by next spring. However, she does admit that she isn't sure why the ghosts have remained for as long as they have but refused to comment on where her first estimation had come from.

-mod castle

🧭 saviorodilewhiteknight follow

"ghosts" when only savior siffrin's ghost is the only one being seen at the house

🏴 chess-cheater-deactivated

Someone posted an explanation here. Basically tl;dr it's Time Craft crab

🧭 saviorodilewhiteknight follow

they fucking got them

#does anyone have screenshots of whatever was in #the link chess-cheater linked? #it's gone now :/ #notes say claude hacked the site and deleted it

2,003 Notes

🧨 defender-offender

Everyone that asks me about Mirabelle is getting blocked. Leave her tf alone, she's been through enough without everyone trying to dig up her meta essays and fics.

#stasis and stagnation i'm this close to deleting everything #claude.exe

638 Notes

🐚 shesellsseashells follow

Disclaimer: I know Savior Siffrin never worked for the K*ng and that Savior Odile didn't actually believe this theory, this is a poll for fun.

#savior posting #voted for he forgot

4,218 Notes

🪭 justafan follow

So. Uh. Anyone else hear about that game coming out? The one about Vaugarde's Saviors fighting the King?

🥚 notreadytohatch follow

Didn't the dev claim to be a vessel for Vaugarde's change god?

🪭 justafan follow

Yeah but. Yeah not touching that one.

🎭 anguished-actor follow

Theres gonna be a what.

#hooboy idc what the game looks like i'll be making popcorn for all the discourse that'll be popping up #is there a kickstarter i wanna donate

🌠 loop-garou follow

🧨 defender-offender

How many accounts do you have?????

🌠 loop-garou follow

You're the one flagging me?? 🥺🥺🥺

🧨 defender-offender

I don't care enough to bother.

🧨 defender-offender

I'll tell everyone to leave you alone if you tell me one thing: Are you the one who gave Euphie a bound version of that fic?

🌠 loop-garou follow

DM me and I'll tell you :3c

🎭 anguished-actor follow

Stars, I swear if that was you...

#this... this is like #proof loop-garou and/or anguished-actor are the saviors #right??? #i'm not insane??? #like it makes sense right??? #and who tf is loop??? who is that in the picture?????? is this some joke from one of the saviorshipping fics?? #are they loop-garou's sona??? #and i swear to change if i only get a bunch of asks that only say 'tee-hee'...

958 Notes

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 2: Werewolf/Werecat

I had a request for the continuation of my last werewolf!boyfriend story for at least a year now... time to make it nasty, ehehe >:3 I dedicate this to all my monster readers, and those that really enjoy knotting. >:3

First Part here!

Prompt: Werewolf/Werecat | Full Moon // Claws // Beastly Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Fem!Reader, Dub-Con, Praising, Degradation, Knotting, Knotfucking, Nicknames, Cunnilingus, Orgasming from pain, Use of pheromones to make darling horny, Mentioning of sexual manipulation, Monsterfuckery (more animal than human in this case), Talking about pregnancy), Violence (Breaking a door, Biting, Blood Mention, Mention of claws), Animal behavior, Monster descriptions, Very long post

"I know... Maybe... But the smell... No, no, no... Ah, I want to..."

Scraps of a conversation—one not held with you—reached your drowsy mind, slowly pulling you out of your dreams, which were almost as grim as reality. Ever since you discovered your boyfriend's true nature on that full-moon-night weeks ago, your depression had grown more and more. You fought at first, reasoned, pleaded to what was left of your sweet boyfriend. But the animal had taken roots too deep for you to tear them out.

And now, there was not much to do other than sleep.

The cottage had never felt like home, but it was suffocating now. When he wasn't around, you were locked up. And when he was home, he was overbearing, doting, and downright creepy. You caught him sniffing the bathroom door more than once just because you hid inside the room for a while. He explained that he just wanted to ensure you were okay, but you couldn't be so sure about it.

Hearing him pace back and forth behind the bedroom door wasn't as alarming anymore as it should have been. It didn't alert you right away, since he always seemed to be around, even when he wasn't. But this night was special, and between depression naps and being force-fed canned ravioli, this time, you did strain your ears after shaking off the initial drowsiness.

"Ah, awake, good, good... No! No, not good, not good! No..."

You sighed, listening to his rambles turning into a soft whine, the longing scratching of his nails against the bedroom door. From your position on the bed you spied the key still dangling from the lock, followed by countless steel locks snapped into place next to the frame. He had advised you to do it, and spending a night alone in your room was more of a pleasure than you cared to admit.

It was another full-moon night.

The first one since you found out, to be exact. And it hadn't been you who raised concerns at realizing it, your ex still remembering the blood bath he left after last time. It hadn't been intentional, but after throwing you across the parking lot, scratching you with his claws while carrying you, and biting your ankle when you didn't want to stop fighting, he had been devastated, wishing to avoid the bloodshed at all costs.

Of course, you wanted to avoid getting hurt again, too, even if your feelings and desires had become relatively meaningless over time. You still wanted to fight, but hiding was your second best option, and knowing he cared just a little about your well-being gave you some hope that not all was lost. One day, you'd escape him, but maybe not on this particular night. All you had to do for now was wait it out, keep quiet, don't alert the beast of your presence.

"Hrngh, mate... need to... mhm, no. Not like this..."

If only he wasn't so damn annoying.

"Just shut up!" you yelled, unable to fall asleep even after trying your hardest. It was bad enough to be in this situation, you didn't need a velcro werewolf to add to your misery and deny you the one thing you liked doing—sleeping in peace.

A soft whine escaped your ex as he halted in his tracks, and you sighed, feeling stupid that you blew your cover completely. Now that he knew you were definitely awake, he'd probably create an even bigger ruckus, especially when you refused to let him in. You heard his body rubbing against the wood, followed by the sound of his sniffing, and you cursed the door for being so poorly soundproofed. Ever since you found out what he was, he didn't hold back the strange mannerism his other form brought with. And you wanted nothing more than to escape the weirdness of this inhuman beast.

He groaned on the other side of the door, and you groaned inwardly as you realized even his breathing had gotten annoying.

"What are you even doing?" you asked him, not needing to yell for him to hear.

"N-Nothing..." he stuttered, sounding dejected and pathetic as he mumbled it into the doorframe. He had always been a lousy liar, but saying this while behaving like a mad dog was almost insulting. Some more hums and sighs reached you ever so often, the creepiness of it all rattling you every time.

"Can you go away?" you asked, annoyed. You wouldn't be able to go back to sleep like this, feeling constantly threatened and grossed out by his presence like this. But your ex merely slumped against the door, letting out a mix of a groan and a growl. It was as if he was on drugs—and not the good kind.

Grabbing your pillow, you wrapped it around your ears, hoping to eradicate the sounds coming from the door. But like so many times before, your hopes were literally smashed as you heard the frightening sound of violently cracking wood.

Immediately, you sat up, staring wide-eyed at the door. It was a small frame of pliable wood, but for some reason, you had felt safe with it separating you from the monster outside. As if it, with all the locks he installed and let you manage, could keep him out. But as you watched the door bend, his body slamming into it from the other side, you realized it had never been enough, not nearly.

"S-Stop!" you called out, and an inhuman growl escaped from behind the splintering wood.

"No stop," the beast growled back, the sounds of claws raking over the wood sent goosebumps down your spine. "My mate..." he sighed in that awful, inhuman voice, and you gulped as you listened to the sniffs. "I know where you are, Mate. So desperate, so in need."

You gasped as his shoulder finally broke through the door, pulling out of the hole it punched through, only to be replaced by his face. You sat completely still as his eyes roamed, taking only milliseconds to find and fixate on you. He had already shifted most of his features, hair growing where it wasn't supposed to, eyes turning from soft green to an intense emerald, his pupils small and digging into you.

Both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours, but you were surprised when he groaned once again, sounding desperate as he withdrew. Before you could say anything, his arm—already fully shifted, with claws for nails and the greyish-brown fur of an animal coating his skin—burst through, getting caught on the splintering wood, yet not caring as it pawed at the locks. Desperate to get it. To get to you.

"Mate," he whined, stopping in his tracks. "Let me in, yes? Let me make you feel good."

You shook your head, unable to voice your thoughts. As if you'd let that thing inside and do harm to you. No matter what it said, that wasn't going to happen.

Another growl, the door shaking while he gripped the first lock, yanking at it. After losing his grip once, he tried again, and before your very eyes, the first lock crumbled in his fist. He wouldn't be stopped by something puny like this, whether you helped him or not. You carefully clambered out of bed, not feeling safe cowering anymore. Desperate, you fiddled with the lock on the window, hoping it would be just as easily removable as your ex made it seem.

Crunch, gone was another lock on the door, the wood bending and creaking further as a body much larger and heavier leaned against it.

Just your lock didn't budge, even as you yanked and begged it to give way. "Come on," you whispered, and the beast growled from behind you, only encouraged by your words to break another one of the door locks.

But suddenly, in the middle of your frenzy to escape before the werewolf could get to you, you heard a whine louder than any before. The arm retracted, and you listened to the chaos unfold outside as the body of your ex slammed into the furniture in the hallway, scraping along the walls.

"No! No, stop! She's scared, she doesn't want this!" This was clearly your boyfriend's voice, begging with something—most likely himself—to stop. Your heart swelled with thankfulness, knowing he was the only one able to subdue the beast. But it was strong, as it had showcased so many times now.

"Yes, she wants," the beast growled. "She's fertile, she's ready. We waited so long to be one. Be one with our mate. Now we have her, and she needs us!"

"But she's not a werewolf! She's not ready for... for this!"

There was so much disgust and hate in his last words, and although you could imagine he meant this situation, you weren't sure if that was truly what he was implying. Maybe there was something more, something even worse, awaiting you that only your ex knew about.

Much to your own shame, your thoughts drifted temporarily, and you were unable to shift them back to focus. Fertile, ready, being one. It suddenly clicked what this monster wanted, and heat flooded your body, causing your core to clench. This had never been about hurting or scaring you.

The monster was, quite literally, trying to mate with you.

A gravelly groan escaped the beast, and you shuddered, feeling caught as the sound raked through your body unwillingly.

"There, she's ready. Waiting for us. Need us," it growled before softly whining, the sound of your boyfriend's voice not reemerging this time.

"I'm ready, too, need to see that pretty cunt, lick up that sweet scent."

Never once since finding out about your ex's secret had you thought about sex with your boyfriend. Depression killed most of your libido, and his touches disgusted you rather than excited. But he, on the other hand, or perhaps that beast controlling him, apparently had.

Looking out of the window, you had a full view of the bright full moon, hanging like an executioner's axe above your head. Even if you could escape this room, you knew you couldn't outrun the monster. Not with his enhanced senses and abilities. You could try to fight him, but your chances of success were slim with his superior strength and the possibility of you freezing up when you were face to face with the creature.

What should you do then? Simply... give up?

You shuddered, another cracking reminding you the monster was again working on opening the door. On getting to you. He wouldn't stop. He didn't when you screamed and begged, didn't when you were obviously afraid. There was no reasoning with an animal, and tears welled up in your eyes.

"Mhm, sad... Mate sad," your ex whined through the gap in the door, his voice mixing into the monster's way of talking. As if to lure you, like the big bad wolf had with little red riding hood. "Soon. I'll be there soon."

You knew it would be.

Surprised, you found yourself in front of the door, watching as the gnarly arm yanked at the second to last lock, impatiently trying to tear it off. There wasn't much you could possibly do to save yourself, but it was all too much to bear for your psyche. Tears fell freely as you reached up, not even realizing you had come so close to the beast, and brushed your hand over his fur. He stilled, letting go of the lock as he reached up instead.

Your breath hitched as you thought he would wrap his paw around your throat, but instead, his palm cupped your face, clawed thumb wiping away the tears. "Open the door," he rumbled softly, commanding it despite the gentle instruction. "Let me come in, mate. Let me comfort you."

His hand fell from your face, brushing down your body. There was something so strangely sensual in this huge paw of a hand gently caressing your body, even if the claws could slit you open at any given moment. You were going crazy, but you didn't move, didn't shove him away as you should have. He drove over the curve of your breast, his knuckles getting caught on your nipple, flicking it one after the other before he moved on to the side of your hip. Then the hand slit around the small of your back, pushing you closer to the door before settling above your ass.

Its presence was like a threat, and you reached up with shaking hands, slowly fiddling with the key to the door before unlocking it. Two more to go.

"Good," it growled. "I can smell your arousal. I'll see to it soon, pretty mate. Open it. Open the door."

Click. Did you want it to? Did you perhaps want that werewolf to get to you, ravage you like the beast it was? Had you gone insane after a month of isolation and depression? Your breath hitched as you reached for the last lock, the steady growling turning into more of a purr as his hand spread over your asscheek, slowly rubbing it, fingers dipping down too low for comfort with his elongated tips. Yet, when he pulled them from between your legs, you followed his touch, chasing the tingles he left in his wake.

Yes. You had gone insane. Fuck, you must have been mad, but your hands acted on their own as they unlocked the last barricade between you two.

"I-I'm opening it now," you announced, and the monster hummed appreciatively.

"Yes... Yes, you open it now, sweet thing. Let me in."

Your breathing ragged, the last lock clicked open much too easily, and you stepped backward as the wood creaked open. The monster's arm retracted after pushing down the handle from the inside, the splintered wood cracking out of the way as the creature's massive body broke through the frame.

There was more growling as it got stuck in the small opening, his body way too massive to fit, but it was too eager to wait. The werewolf jammed into it, shoulder and legs getting caught as he couldn't decide what should go first.

You gasped, noticing he hadn't even shifted fully yet, with much of your ex-boyfriend's features remaining as you caught his gaze, looking at you with desperation and sorrow.

"S-Sorry," he stuttered, his voice the growl of a beast, yet you knew it was your boyfriend talking to you. Telling you he couldn't stop it—no, he couldn't stop himself. You needed to stop differentiating the two when they were one and the same. And you were what they wanted, they desired, even if his rational part tried to protect you from the one that ran purely on instinct. You were prey. Prey that the werewolf wanted to fuck and then devour.

For some reason, that revelation made your heart race faster, and your legs clenched tighter together, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"Pretty mate," he sighed. "Pretty, pretty. So needy, so ready."

"W-What do you mean?" you asked him, and his grimace twisted into a grin.

"I can smell it. You are ripe and fertile. You're gonna take my seed and you will enjoy it, begging to have my cubs."

A gasp escaped you as you were slowly backed into the wall to the side of the bed. It was moments like these that made you regret not caring enough before. Not stealing a knife from the kitchen or asking for silver to protect you. Fuck, how could you have been so stupid as to open the door?! How could you do this to yourself?!

Your core clenched, and the shameful realization finally dawned on you. It had been some time since your period, and that meant... you were ovulating. Your libido may have been off, but nature didn't miss. Especially not if your boyfriend had some weird, werewolf pheromones you didn't notice before. It was your only explanation for wanting this thing anywhere close to you. You two used to have a very active sex life, but you had always used protection, and he had never pressed you to do what you didn't want. Maybe that made you too easily persuaded now, in this situation. A false sense of trust

"Don't be scared," the creature purred, reaching out his fully shifted arm towards you. "I'll take good care of you. I'll start right now."

With that and the terrifying sound of wood breaking, that massive monster plummeted to his knees, more hair sprouting as the full transformation took place. You watched in horror and awe as his snout elongated, teeth sharpening, and ears protruding from the top of his head. You wanted to throw up, but you had no time as the snout leaned forward, landing right between your legs.

The deep inhale could be felt through all the layers of clothes on you, and you felt your own wetness betraying you as it seeped into your panties. The monster was way too huge, even as he knelt, his body bending in what must have been painful for him just so he could kneel before you and sniff your privates mercilessly, driven by the need to satisfy his and your cravings.

Pushing his snout upwards, an electric shock went through you as it flicked your clit, maw splitting to allow his tongue to lap out. It was so damn long, able to easily slip between your asscheeks from his front-facing position. And it moved like a separate entity, a snake able to buckle and twist, eager to taste all you were offering.

Claws hooked beneath the waistband of your pajama, and you squeaked as he rapidly pulled them down to your ankles. His tongue moved out of the way only to let the fabric pass, immediately slinging back between your legs, licking up all the excess wet coating the inside of your thighs. You let out an involuntary moan as the tip of his tongue poked at your entrance through the fabric, and the monster chuckled, his tongue vibrating along to the sound.

It was almost too much. Your body bent forward, the monster's shoulders perfectly in reach to grab onto, and you leaned into his snout. He took it as a sign of your willingness, arms reaching out to support you by the hips, and you whined as the thick muscle pressed into you teasingly. You'd never be able to take it fully, and the fear gave you another pang to your core, making you imagine what it would be like inside you, winding and twisting around.

You felt so embarrassed that you were thinking about these things, not understanding why your body would crave them. But you couldn't stop. Couldn't stop thinking of the ways it could lap at your folds, play your clit, or dig deeper than anything ever had before. Maybe with a tongue like this, your orgasm wouldn't be an every-once-in-a-while thing but a constant, double, triple pleasure that only you got to experience. You were fucking going insane, and the shame almost turned you on more.

"So good," the monster praised, and the deep sound shuddered through your body. You raised onto your tiptoes, realizing you were so close to the edge of depravity. But that was when he sniffed your soaked-through panties, inhaled with a long, deep breath before suddenly closing his maw, leaving you breathless and violently tingling.

"You're ready," the creature announced and you whined as he pulled the last bit of pressure—his nose—from your clit, leaving you with nothing. You didn't know you could be this needy, but your fingers curled into his fur, silently willing him back to give you the earth-shaking orgasm he had built up to.

"You need to be filled up, sweet thing. Need my seed to swell your belly until it bursts and give you what you desire, little mate."

His hold on your hips grew uncomfortably tight, but before you knew it, you were lifted off the ground. A breathless gasp escaped you as you were carried over to the bed, your head hitting your pillow with a soft "Uff!" escaping you. But when you opened your eyes, the werewolf was right there, his legs spread on either side of the bed, one arm gripping the iron headboard that creaked underneath the pressure of his grip.

It felt incredibly threatening to have him hover above you like this. Still, at the same time, you couldn't help but flush with heat as he looked down at you, that massive monster looking at you as if it was either lovestruck or famished, satisfied some inner demons of yours. That was, until your eyes fell below his waistline, seeing the red, angry erection that awaited you there, jutting out of the fur and merrily spilling precum as if it was lube.

With a groan, your ex reached down, gripping his massive cock awkwardly in his clawed hand. More cum gushed from it, and his hips pounded forward into the hold. There was no way you could take that, its girth unimaginable inside your small, human pussy.

Some of the hot spill touched your bare legs, your pants discarded on the floor where you had stood, and you jolted from the heat. It spread like wildfire, the thought of being filled with it almost sending you over the edge right then and there. The idea of your womb filled up with this hot, heavy seed was so enticing to you, although you didn't realize it had been a kink of yours. Something felt so off about your reactions, yet you couldn't determine what. You couldn't turn your eyes away from his cock, not even as his hand slid back, fingers spreading further to envelop the bulbous growth at the base. You swallowed thickly as you watched him squeeze and massage it, the discomfort clear in his movements, yet his tip just wouldn't stop spilling.

"Open your legs," he growled, and you shuddered as hesitation and willingness fought inside of you. It seemed the monster didn't have the same concerns as you had, willing to tear you open just to get his dick wet. And a part of you wanted to be the one wetting this dick, but this time, rationality won.

"N-No, it won't fit!" you squeaked, slamming your legs shut as hard as you could and moving backward until your shoulders hit the iron frame.

"It will," the werewolf snarled confidently. "You are more than ready, little mate."

"No! No, you will hurt me! I can't take it--"

The deep growl that clattered his teeth shut you up fast, and you turned your head away as he lowered his towards yours. His snout ran from your temple to the side of your throat, brushing away your shirt to expose more of the soft area between your shoulder and neck. When he licked over the spot, you felt a jolt of pleasure rake through you, a weird kind of connection developing with this monster.

"You are my mate. I long prepared you for this—longer than you realize. Spread you wide, marked you, let you smell my pheromones. You were always going to be mine, even when you didn't know it. You were ready before you found out about this, but tonight, you'll finally take your place as my mate. Mine."

Pushing his hips down, they connected with yours, and you temporarily forgot to clench your thighs, allowing the monster to rub his cock against your cunt. It was hot, wet, and ready, and with your soft whine, you signaled that you were, too.

With his free hand, he reached down, grabbing your left leg before pulling it to the side. With another sniff in the air, the monster let out a satisfied rumble before stretching out his pointer, slipping the claw under the fabric of your panty.

You gasped as the fabric tore at the smallest of tugs, easily giving way to your bare pussy, and you felt almost the same sense of shame as you had at your first time with your boyfriend. Shy, virginal. Perhaps because, to this werewolf, with his heightened senses, you were much more exposed than normally. He saw, smelled, and tasted everything so much more and did so with the greatest of pleasures.

"Mhm, tight," he commented as he looked down.

"Too tight," you whined, and he snorted.

"Perfect."

Pushing your leg back, he brought his own forward to secure it in place, and letting go of the headboard, he swept your other leg up to rest it above his. You hadn't even noticed the swift lifting of your hips he did, only feeling the softness of your blanket underneath them when he had already elevated you. He was surprisingly considered for a beast, but that wasn't what you should have been thinking about.

"Hold here," he instructed, guiding your hands over your head and to the iron rods that made up the headboard. With shivering hands, you grasped them and looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes not wavering from yours as he reached down to position himself.

"Good girl," he chuckled, and you couldn't help more heat spreading to your cheeks as you looked away first.

Cursing the wave of excitement, only measured against the fear of being penetrated by something so big, you whined softly as you felt his tip press against your entrance, your pussy gaping after this promise of finally getting the orgasm you had been denied before.

His snout leaned down, brushing against the side of your face reassuringly, and you heard that eery purr rumble in his chest again. With his own hands gripping the top of the headboard, you began to realize what you had allowed. You shifted on top of his lap, pulling yourself further away, but his hips followed, caging you between his body and the headboard.

"No, no wait!" you whimpered, panic spreading through you as your body prepared with all the adrenaline it could muster.

"No more waiting, little mate," he replied and his hips snapped forward.

A soundless scream ripped from your throat, your spine arching as the whole shaft of his cock invaded you, split you wide open, and tore your entrance as the bulb tried to follow into your depths.

"It's too big!" you complained, but your words were all but one big moan that only encouraged him more. There were no words to describe the feeling, a mixture of pain that turned into pleasure, that burned with even more pain before finally pressing all the right spots. And you were so full.

You felt your toes curl as you came, overwhelmed to the point of tears. Tears that were licked up by an eager tongue, wet and hot as it found your lips, pulling them apart to invade your mouth as well in an abhorrent kiss to fur-covered lips. His tongue was choking you, fucking your throat as his cock made little juts inside you, guiding you through your orgasm.

It didn't take him long to find a rhythm, his cock rutting into you madly by the time your high was broken, only mind-shattering sensitivity remaining. The headboard creaked and shook as he used it to drive himself forward and deeper into you. Soon, your wetness and his precum pooled beneath your cunt, and when he dragged his cock back, preparing for an especially deep push, the knot at the base slipped inside with it.

This time, you did scream, loud enough to make him jolt, his cock kissing even deeper as your bodies collided. The werewolf growled, pulling his knot free, and your shriek turned into a loud moan, your eyes rolling back. And so he did it again, fucking the mass into you again and again. You couldn't scream every time it spread you open with blunt force, but every time it did, you felt like losing your conscience.

Soon, he didn't even pull it out fully anymore, only moving inside of you. The knot grew, and you squirmed, uncomfortable with the mass spreading inside you. "No!" you whined, but it wasn't convincing when it sounded like a plead for more. You completely lost control as his cock bulged inside you, the beast growling as a hot spurt of cum splashed your inner walls.

And as if the floodgates opened, more spurts followed, spilling all inside you with no chance of escaping. You wished it didn't give you that ugly, fulfilling feeling of yet another orgasm, but you weren't spared. The werewolf groaned as you clenched around him, and you shook violently while more and more cum filled your womb. Just like he promised, he filled you up to the brim, expanding your insides as if he had already gotten you pregnant. You felt both nauseated from the feeling of fluids swapping around inside of you as well as so damn satisfied by feeling full.

Growls and howls escaped him, maw lowering back to settle between your shoulder and neck. You didn't notice him licking the spot over and over while you were still orgasming, as if this was the first time you had ever reached such a high. Groaning, you let your head fall back, arching your body against his, not realizing this had been your biggest mistake.

Pain worse than anything you had ever felt before shot through you, and your scream died down quickly as blood gushed from your shoulder, his teeth burying deeper as you tried to rip yourself away from the monster. He was groaning, lapping at the wounds his maw caused and his cock jerked inside you, causing all the fluids to sway.

You reached around his neck, driving your nails through his fur and into the taut skin on his back. You whimpered and pushed your body into his pleadingly, willing him to stop. It hurt so much, and yet you felt almost back at the edge of your orgasm, your hips unwillingly rutting against his, the knot moving back and forth around your entrance.

Only when you came again did the werewolf stop his bite, howling at the sight of you shuddering violently beneath him. And finally, he was satisfied, your blood dripping from his maw as he pumped his cock into you again a handful of times, making sure you were plugged up well.

"Mine," he rasped. "All mine. My mate, my bitch."

His hand fell to the swollen part of your stomach, and you groaned as he applied some pressure.

"And soon," he hummed, satisfied as you felt another pump of cum fill you up. "You'll bear my pups like a good mate. And I will fill you up again for more like you were always meant to be."

You barely registered the words, but the tears falling from your eyes were proof that you understood. Understood what you had allowed to happen, understood that you were indeed what he claimed you to be. His bitch, his little breeding pet. His.

"Good," he chuckled, and you let out a sob, realizing he could feel your giving up, the despair overwhelming you. But to him, it was only one thing: submission. He didn't need you to voice it to win a battle you couldn't have fought if you wanted to. And you were too helpless to make him think otherwise, too exhausted to argue, too full to deny what you were.

Tugging his knot back, you realized he was slowly able to pull it out, and you whined, feeling the first spurts of seed run down your legs. But he pushed it back the second he noticed it, humming as he seemed to enjoy your warmth.

"You're all mine now, you belong to me," he growled, victorious. But then a whine broke through, and you watched as the werewolf hunched over, one hand gripping his head. Concerned, you didn't know what to do, but when you tried to move, you felt his knot inside, and the pleasure that shot through you made you flush with heat and moan.

"God..." you heard him whine, and you looked up, not in the eyes of a beast, but those of your ex. You saw your own reflection in them, undone, bloody, and sexually satisfied beyond recognition. He whined again softly, but you didn't believe his words when he sobbed them quietly. Not with his knot pulsing inside you still, leaking seed everywhere.

"I'm so, so sorry..."

[mewtwoandme]

I was hoping this would all blow over, but since it's continuing to happen, now with people attacking other artists of the commewnity. I'm putting out my two fucking cents! Cause this whole art/character theft and pointing fingers, who stole what from who bullshit it driving me up the fucking wall!!

Long story short, it started with me and one other blog whose name I won't mention publicly. Despite the horrible light they tried to paint me in, I don't want anyone going to this person and ganging up on them. This person had some serious bitterness towards more "popular" artists and claimed that I've made characters similar to theirs and once used a pose they apparently used before (which was a very common pose, considering it was a reference from the game version of mega Y). Since then, they had desperately tried to conjure up evidence, narrowing down to the most miniscule detail how I've been stealing from them when I hadn't even known their blog existed until I was forcefully thrown into that unnecessary drama with the unhinged call-out posts they've made. With this being said, I'd like to point out that they never came to me or addressed this concern with me in the first place. They had every opportunity to privately DM me if they had suspected I was "stealing," but no, simply because they already made up their mind that I was a thief, that was a good enough reason to lack common fucking sense and decency, making what should have been a private issue public, going on to villainize and dehumanize me. And apparently, it hasn't stopped with me either, cause recently I've been seeing other artists in the community having to deal with this where people are being white knights on high horses, pointing fingers on how one artist's mewtwo looks "the same" if not "totally identical" as another artist's mewtwo. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. But what makes me disgusted is that since TC's post, apparently it's had the opposite effect on some people and they're hopping on this blame bandwagon like it's some damn media trend!!!

This is NOT okay! Nothing about this kind of behavior is funny! It's upsetting to all of us. We dont need you causing problems where there isn't any, thinking you're doing us a favor! The majority of us are adults for gods sake! We are old enough where we don't need other people coming to us being tattle tails saying this person did this and that. That's what little children do! If you suspect any form of theft, I think I speak for ALL creators in this commewnity that we'd prefer you DM us privately saying something like "Hey, I think this person is copying you, might wanna look into it." And if possible, provide a link to the art in question, for which we would kindly thank you for making us aware and we'll handle it ourselves from there. Just a brief, yet SIMPLE interaction...that's all we ask!!! Don't even come at me with "Well, it's scary attempting to talk to an artist that's well known." Or dare I say ~pOpUlAr~ If you claim that taking the first step to send me a quick DM makes you nervous, yet you have no problem making public call outs in posts or asks, belittling and degrading what could actually be innocent artists doing nothing wrong, literally leaving yourself open to all kinds of comments and opinions from all kinds of people....I'm sorry but your anxiety isn't as bad as you say it is then, if being rude and ignorant in a public post/ask is easier for you. If you come to us, shaming someone else who 9/10 probably isn't doing anything wrong, thinking you'll be in our good graces for doing so, sorry, you're not going to be told, "Good job!" with a pat on the back and given a lollipop! You're just being an asshole.

Quick reality check for everyone who's made it this far before I end this train wreck of a rant:

People can have similar ideas that coincide with one another! There's only so much you can do when a whole community is focused around drawing the same character! We mainly draw mewtwos and mews, you're bound to find a plethora of similar colors, patterns, and designs because of it! Creativity only goes so far when trying to stay true to a character and not stray too far. It's not a crime to take inspiration from other artists' characters, we actually encourage this! It makes us feel good that you liked something we've done and you want to incorporate it into your own designs! It makes us happy that we inspired you! The line is crossed when someone does a literal copy/paste of a character down to the exact detail, and they call it their own original creation. That my friends is what stealing actually is!

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | March 10th-24th 2025

Work has just been.... a lot. Feels like the only thing getting me through the week is 9-1-1 Thursdays. Anyway. It's a long one cause you're getting two weeks. Bon appetit.

Complete

it has no name (no guarantee) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,1K | General):

"H-hey, E-eddie." Buck isn't sure why he stumbles over Eddie's name. He's had enough practice over the past few days. Said it enough times in his life that it should be able to slip out seamlessly every damn time. "Hey, Buck." And there's Eddie sounding sure and confident and a little tired and warm and soft and so much like his best friend. Buck aches. "Just finished unpacking. Told myself I couldn't call until I was done. Incentive, y'know?" (or: eddie calls, buck blurts some things out, they're totally normal best friends)

all my life, there you go Chapter 29. Sleeping in by trysetmeonfire (Post-S8E9: Sob Stories, Eddie Back From Texas | 1,2K | Mature):

Buck shuffles a little and Eddie thinks for a moment maybe- but he just snorts a little and keeps dreaming. Eddie tries to tamp down on the kind of sleepover giddiness bubbling up in his chest — wake up wake up wake up — and takes the opportunity to watch his best friend. His- whatever. Whatever they are now that Eddie knows what kissing him is like, quickly and quietly in his parent’s backyard, now that Eddie has stumbled his way through a question — “Why are you- why did you- all of this- do you- do you-“ — and Buck had frowned a little, not in an unhappy way but in his serious way, and had heard the real thing Eddie had wanted to know, and said “Eddie- of course I love you.” 

is it enough now by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,4K | Teen):

“I’m not in love with you,” Buck blurts out as soon as the ringing stops on the other end of the phone. There’s dead air on the other end of the line, but the kind that’s filled with background noise - a distant hum, some breathing sounds, just enough for Buck to know that Eddie heard him. buck finally calls eddie. he's still working through some stuff. he's kind of a disaster, honestly.

city lights, without you (they don’t even shine like they used to) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,5K | Teen):

“It wouldn’t be so crazy,” Maddie said, and she didn’t even sound surprised. Is this something she’s thought about before? Do his sister and his ex really think he’s secretly in love with Eddie? And if Maddie thinks so, does Chimney do, too? Fuck, does everyone think he’s pining after Eddie? ~ buck is not in love with eddie. definitely not.

I’ve pined for you my whole life (morning, noon, and night) by paleredheadinascifi (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,7K | Teen):

“Where did you do it?” Eddie asks in one quick breath. “Hmm?” Buck hums. “Sorry I - - I. Nevermind. Sorry. It’s none of my business,” Eddie croaks, and whatever that is in his voice is what finally clues Buck in. “Oh. Oh,” he gasps. “Where did I - - where did we sleep together?” Or, Buck calls Eddie after 8x11.

sanctioned departures by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S8E10: Voices Coda | 1,9K | General):

Buck gets his sister back and loses his best friend in the same week.

a fool for you by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 2K | Mature):

“You did what?” Eddie asked, his voice sounding faint over the phone. Buck groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I moaned your name! I don’t know why man, I just– Tommy said a bunch of stuff after– after. And I can’t work any of it out, and I know this is probably weird but I really need my best friend right now.” -or- Buck accidentally moans Eddie's name after he bring Tommy back to his place- oops!

keep me by you by euadnes/ @kananjarus (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 2,5K | Teen):

"It's funny you say that," he says. His voice has gone so soft Buck thumbs the volume up, his heart in his throat. "My date tonight ended early because I too would not shut up about the amazing guy I apparently couldn't get over. And he didn't enjoy being used a rebound. Or at least that's how he put it." Buck didn't hear that right, right? He realizes his mouth has fallen open, a few seconds too late. He scarcely dares to breathe. "He -? Wait, you were on a date with a - a guy?" Eddie cocks his head, quirks his mouth. "That's the part of the conversation you're focusing on?"

Buddie Versus The Kiss Cam by explorerofworlds (Basketball Date, S8 | 3K | General):

Buck and Eddie take Tommy’s tickets and go to a basketball game together. While there, they end up on the kiss cam! Or the kiss cam fic.

I just want it to be you by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 4K | Mature):

Five times someone calls Eddie Diaz to talk about Buck and one time Eddie calls Buck instead.

realizations by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Are you okay?” On the ground, his phone screen was still lit, a call with Eddie displayed on the screen. Through the haze of panic, Buck was at least relieved that he hadn’t managed to start a video call. I think I’m in love with you. Oh God, I think I’m in love with you. “Yeah, I– everything’s good, I think I just– butt dialed you, or something.”

loose-tongued, in love by wenttoafortuneteller (Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Get home safe,” Buck says. Then, as always, he thinks: I love you. Eddie goes very, very still. His breathing stutters to a stop. There’s a strange expression on his face, his mouth twisting in that way it does when he doesn’t know what to say. Buck squints blearily at him. “What?” A muscle in his jaw twitches once. Twice. The muted light illuminates the quiet movement of his throat as he swallows. “What’d you just say?” “Get home safe,” Buck repeats, a yawn overtaking the last word. “Why…?” Or: the one where Buck, drowsy and delirious on pain medication, confesses his love to Eddie without realizing it.

24 Hours by xylodemon/ @xylodemon (Post-S8E10: Voices, Getting Together | 4K | Not Rated):

Chimney asks, "Who are you texting?" "Eddie." "Really? He's only been gone… what—? Two hours?" "Two hours and thirty-one minutes." "Not that anyone's counting." (Or, Buck and Eddie in the the first 24 hours after Eddie leaves.)

Coming for you by diazsdimples (Eddie Moves to Texas, PWP, Phone Sex | 4K | Explicit):

The idea of Buck on his bed, in his house, wearing his shirt, while he touches himself really does something for Eddie. It makes the small, possessive beast that’s curled up inside his chest purr with contentment. The beast that shouldn’t really exist, because Buck isn’t really his. His phone pings again with another text from Buck. OR Eddie moves to Texas, Buck moves into his house, and neither of them really know how to handle it. Good thing phone sex solves all problems!

How to supreme an orange by paleredheadinascifi (Post-Chris coming home, Getting together | 5K | Teen):

"I don’t like oranges.” “Since when?” Eddie frowns. “You used to love oranges.” Christopher shrugs. “I don’t like them anymore.” And that’s fine, really. Tastes change. Christopher doesn’t have to like oranges. It’s just that he does. Christopher loves oranges. Christopher has loved oranges since the first time he tasted one, Eddie watching on over a shaky video call from the desert. Or, Eddie knows his kid, and his kid loves oranges. Buck knows both of them better than Eddie realized. He shows it in various citrus-based ways.

stay in the line, stay in the line by Elgney (S4E5: Buck Begins | 5K | General):

"The other firefighters were very kind. We got to hear a lot of stories about you. They seem to like you a great deal." Or: two missing conversations from Buck Begins.

Don’t Think About It Too Much, Too Much, Too Much, Too Much by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @fruitsdontknow (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, Chris Coming Home, Getting Together | 6K | Mature):

“My friend, my…. Eddie’s like that. He’s a single parent, too. Big worrier. He nests. Uh,” Buck dips his head down. “Loves his kid more than anything. That’s where he’s coming from, now. Picking up his son, Christopher.” “Your Diaz boys,” she clarifies, a warm look in her eyes, and Buck feels his cheeks heat up. “Yeah.” *** Eddie and Chris finally come back to Los Angeles. Buck has some realizations, and confessions, to make. Good thing Eddie's got some of his own to share, too.

softer, harder, in-between by mostardent/ @laracrofted (S8E9: Sob Stories, Jealous Eddie, PWP | 6K | Explicit):

“He was hitting on you!” “So? Who cares?” “I care. We’re married!” Buck blinks. And blinks and blinks and blinks. “Okay. Hold on. What?” One of Eddie's potential renters flirts with Buck, and Eddie is super normal about it and doesn't at all lose his mind over the idea of Buck dating the man who moves into his house.

I'll take your chaos and your crooked in a heartbeat by heartbeatdiaz/ @lonelychicago (Post-S8E10: Voices, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 6K | Teen):

He shakes his head, trying to clear the thought before it can settle. Eddie isn’t dead. He’s in Texas, doing what’s best for Christopher. And Buck—Buck has to get over whatever this is. Swallowing hard, he moves to grab one of his own boxes, dragging it toward the hallway. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. A single, forgotten cardboard box in the far corner of the living room. In big, black letters, written with marker, it reads: EDDIE — KEEP. It’s not one of his. He is sure of that. or: Eddie leaves a very important box behind and Buck spirals.

the things i wanna hear by stevesconverse (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Chim's Bachelor Party | 6K | Teen):

— or the one where Buck finds a video of him and Eddie making out at Chimney's bachelor party.

we get back to my house (your hands, my mouth) by weewooforever (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, PWP | 7K | Explicit):

Eddie finds out that Buck fucked Tommy in his house. His reaction to finding this out is perfectly normal.

I missed your skin when you were east by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit):

Maybe Buck had gotten used to people leaving. So much so that it didn’t affect him anymore. His life would keep going even if his best friend wasn’t there anymore. Eventually, he accepted that nothing would feel different. He signed the moving truck away and sat on the porch stairs, one almost warm beer in hand as he waited for Eddie to get home. When Eddie did, Buck almost felt like something was different about him, but then figured it was just his imagination. Buck left his half-drank beer on the porch of Eddie’s former house shortly after Eddie had left him the same way. Half-drunk. Unchanged. OR; Eddie leaves, and Buck's life stays the same. It's when he comes back that everything changes.

That’s what you do (when you love somebody) by scarmaddiewrites (Eddie Moves to Texas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen):

Buck can’t go home. He physically can’t, so he avoids it at all costs, until he doesn’t. Or The five times Buck avoids his house and the one time he never wants to leave

can you see what we are? (it’s all there written down) by kabnd/ @polkadotk804 (Canon, S2 onwards | 8K | General):

April 25, 2019 - Buck, genuinely distressed in the middle of the night in the bunkroom, presumably to Eddie (overheard by me, Chim): “Do you think that cat from the ‘hang in there’ poster is dead? Like how long do you think that little dude really hung in there?” Eddie, who I think was still mostly asleep: “At least he left a legacy.” OR: Maddie starts a shared note to document Buck and Eddie-isms…it gets just as unhinged at you’d imagine and tells their story from the perspective of the 118 & Co…and then Chris comes home!

smiling through it all by stevesconverse (Canon Divergent, S2E1: Under Pressure | 8K | Teen):

“So what’s your real name, then?” Eddie asks, sipping on his own drink—a whiskey he’s swirling around in the glass constantly. “Evan,” Buck says coyly, quickly adding, “But nobody really calls me that.” “Evan,” Eddie echoes, the sound dripping off his tongue like thick honey. “I like it.” It almost makes Buck regret to ever abandon it in the first place, driving a shiver down his spine. Almost. “And what’s Eddie short for? Eduardo?” he quickly shifts the conversation, stirring his drink and popping another peanut into his mouth. Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. “Edmundo,” he corrects him, then winks at Buck with a low, “But nobody really calls me that.” or the one where Buck and Eddie have a one-night-stand two days before Eddie starts at the 118.

think i know where you belong by stevesconverse (Eddie&Chris Go Back To LA, Roommates, Accidental Kiss | 8K | Teen):

“Bye,” Eddie mumbles distantly, and when Buck finally manages to open his eyes again, Eddie is halfway out the door already. Puzzled, he just stands there, listens to the slam of the door and the starting of the truck outside, his mind spinning and his lips still tingling. Eddie has just kissed him. Actually kissed him, like it was the most normal, casual thing in the world, like this was what they always do, a routine they follow, a dance they’ve learned. Except it’s none of that. 

meet me in the afterglow by literalmetaphor (Established Buddie, Hurt/Comfort | 9K | Explicit):

“We need a safe word,” Buck says. “You know, to make things as clear as possible.” “I feel like no works just fine,” Eddie says. Buck lets out a breath, because, sure, it probably will, but he needs assurance here. He needs something straightforward, simple, maybe something easier than Eddie telling him no. Maybe something easier than Eddie saying it’s too much. He’s never been great at that. “Just, humor me, okay? Communication is key with stuff like this.” Eddie’s laugh is soft, kind of incredulous, but he meets Buck’s eyes, and there’s a relenting fondness in them. “You think, what, you’re gonna be so good it’s gonna scramble my brain out of knowing how to say no?” An answering laugh tumbles out of Buck, peppered with the exasperation at the back of his throat. “I think this is new for you, and I think you should have options.” OR Eddie has to use the safe word.

love of my life, can't you see? by wenttoafortuneteller (S8E11 Spec, Crack | 10K | Teen):

“I asked Josh out,” Buck admits. It’s cartoonish how quickly Eddie’s jaw drops; how his eyes bulge out of his head. Buck rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, waiting for him to say something. There’s still silence. Buck frowns at his screen. “Eddie? Hello? I think you froze.” “I’m here,” Eddie says slowly, eyes still comically wide. “I just think I might have misheard you.” “Oh,” Buck says, and repeats himself. “I asked Josh out.” “Okay. So I didn’t mishear you.” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. “Can I ask why?”  Or: Maddie nudges Buck towards Eddie, Buck misunderstands horribly, and Eddie suffers over FaceTime.

I can roll with all the punches (if you hold a couple back) by Elgney (Canon, S1-S2 | 13K | General):

“I need someone like you—someone who can keep up with him, and have his back, and maybe eventually even rein him in, should that be a thing that is humanly possible to do,” said Bobby, smiling warmly over the remaining half of his sandwich. “Oh, I see,” said Eddie. And he did now. That’s what Bobby’s whole hard sell was about—it wasn’t personal, it was about Eddie being the top of this class. “I know the type. You see guys a lot like that in the military.” “Oh, no,” said Bobby, “I didn’t mean to—well, what I mean is, I don’t think you have seen a lot of guys like Buck, to be honest. I don’t think there are a lot of people like him.” ----- Hen & Chim discussing the new probie; Buck's forgotten shield ceremony; Eddie's first shift with the 118. Or: three early impressions of Buck, through the eyes of his future found family.

hopeless, breathless, burning slow by mostardent/ @laracrofted (Post-S6E11: In Another Life | 14K | Mature):

He knows Eddie worries about him. Everyone does, but with Eddie, it’s not the same. He doesn’t look at Buck like he still has one foot in the grave. Eddie looks at him like he prayed for a miracle and God gave him Buck. In the pale blue-green light, Buck lifts his gaze mid-sentence and finds Eddie already looking at him. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders down. He looks at ease, relaxed and peaceful, a fond smile on his face, coaxed from the corner of his mouth. One of his Christopher smiles, except Eddie’s gaze rests steadily on Buck, so maybe it’s a different kind of smile, one just for him. His dark eyes are warm and bright as afternoon sunshine, brimming with happiness, and it’s the most real Buck has felt in weeks. After the coma, Buck struggles to feel real and unofficially moves in with Eddie. (Or, Eddie hovers and Buck burns.)

listen for heaven by marviless/ @marviless (S8, Eddie Moves to Texas | Getting Together | 15K | Teen):

There’s a long pause before Buck answers. “Yeah, I do,” he says. “I felt alone for the first twenty something years of my life.” “What about now?” Eddie asks, and he’s not even quite sure what he means. What about now, right in this moment? or what about now, now that I’m gone? Buck chooses to answer the former. “I’m never lonely when I’m with you,” he says simply, softly. Eddie, Buck, and six phone calls.

Finding You by Sabs/ @memequeme (Soulmates AU, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 16K | Teen):

Eddie leaves for Texas on a Tuesday and Buck feels it in his heart before he even exits the airport. He starts to feel it in his body on a Thursday. Or: Soulbonds are rare, spontaneous bonds are practically unheard, but Buck and Eddie have always been anything but conventional.

🔥been lost for a while by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Canon Divergent, Nurse Eddie, S2 | 17K | Mature):

Eddie's wife has been dead for two weeks. There's a firefighter in bed five. These are not necessarily related facts, but Eddie will have a hard time separating them out, later. — A story, in many ways, about holding hands

you're more than a heart can take by Elgney (Eddie Coming Out, First Date | 19K | Mature):

“Come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t consider sneaking into a storage closet with me?” “Obviously, I would!” Eddie was whisper-yelling now, and Buck wasn’t sure exactly what point he was trying to make, but he was enjoying every second of this. “But one of us is going to have to have restraint and it has to be the—the one with the most experience.” Buck felt his mouth drop open in delight. “Eddie,” he admonished. “Are you calling me a whore?” “No!” said Eddie, looking increasingly flustered. “I just mean—clearly you have the power to do—” he gestured at Buck, “that, so you have the—the responsibility to, like, use it. Responsibly.” “Did you just quote Spiderman?” Eddie propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands, groaning dramatically. “I’m going to die. The first date, and I’m going to die.” “Been there, wouldn’t recommend it.” --- Buck and Eddie and the first date.

under pressure by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Established Buddie, First Time, PWP | 22K | Explicit):

“It’s not funny,” Eddie sighs, knocking the back of his head against the kitchen cabinet as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Oh, come on—it’s a—it’s a little funny,” Buck argues, amusement thick in his voice as Eddie feels his hand curl around his own wrist. Eddie takes a breath, and drops his wrist to rest over his own knee as he turns to meet Buck’s eyes, arching his own eyebrow in question. Or: Buck and Eddie have grand plans for their first time, it's just unfortunate that their bodies don't seem to be getting the message.

🔥 boy, we ain't got nothin' to lose by Elgney (Amnesia, Post-S7E5: You Don't Know Me | 26K | Teen):

“They just follow it around, copying it and helping it and bothering it so much that it's like, worn down into loving the duckling back and looking out for it.” “So,” said Eddie, furrowing his brow. “In this scenario, you are—” “A baby duckling, newly hatched into the world with no idea what’s going on.” “And I am—” “The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.” ---- Eddie has no idea how to cope when a temporary case of amnesia causes the return of Buck 1.0. Buck has no clue why his future self hasn't made the moves on his hot best friend. It all goes pretty well, considering.

🔥 Your Fake Name is Good Enough For Me by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Changeling AU, Post-S8A | 37K | Mature):

When a younger man claiming to be Evan Buckley is apprehended by Pennsylvania police, Buck's past and present are thrown into question. Buck must work with Bobby and Athena to discover who he really is, and what that means for his family.

🔥paving hell with energy by Elgney (S8E9 Spec, Kidnapping, Getting Together | 52K | Not Rated):

Oh, fuck him, did he almost sleep with a serial killer? Distantly, he thought, Hen and Chim are never going to let me live this down. And then he thought, I might not live at all. ----- Buck is having a hard time dealing with Eddie's impending move to El Paso and resorts to some Buck 1.0-style coping mechanisms. Unfortunately for everybody, this backfires in spectacular fashion. Especially for Eddie, who waited until now to realize he was in love with his best friend. OR: Buck and Maddie get kidnapped. Eddie spirals.

Part 1 of not how the damage gets done

You tried to run (I tried to tie your shoes) by Elgney (Established Buddie, Fluff | 6K | General):

“Do I want to know what’s going on here?” Bobby asked. “Normal stuff,” Buck shouted from where he was, back on the couch. Eddie snorted down at his form, feeling fond and avoiding eye contact with Bobby, who must have stared down Chimney instead, because a second later he was fessing up. “We’re making them fill out their HR relationship forms separately, and then we’re going to compare them, Newlywed Game-style.” ---- Buck and Eddie fill out the LAFD's Consensual Relationship Agreement paperwork, Chim and Hen are over them already, and Bobby is just trying to make lunch and commit as few HR violations as possible.

Part 2 of not how the damage gets done

WIP

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 14? | 60K | Teen):

Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of menby euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 17/18 | 169K | Mature | Warning: Violence):

The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Podfic

🔥[podfic] a cold world for such a long life by nuuma // fic by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7 | 1-1.5h | Teen):

Eddie befriends Bobby's estranged older brother in a virtual support group for queer adults struggling to come out. The only problem? He has no idea that's who Charlie is.

🔥[Podfic] Even in Winter There is Eranthis by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit):

Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 [Podfic] Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 5-6h | Explicit):

Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

[allfortheslay25]

Sorry to that one person who asked about more Milo in my inbox. The ask disappeared and has yet to come back after the draft refused to post so I’ll be posting it just like this.

Hopefully you see it🙏

I should probably mention I wrote this chapter years ago but only adjusted some things at the beginning of the year before January

Milo Future Spoilers

There was nothing like the humidity of South Carolina; damp, sweltering, and mouth drying.

Neil smacked his lips and wiped sweat off the back of his neck. No, nothing like it.

The press of something freezing was soothing for a split second before it was alerting. Neil flinched away from the cold glass bottle Andrew pushed against his neck before taking it.

"Thanks."

Andrew squatted next to him, picking under his armbands to collect the sweat building up under them. Neil stared because Neil liked this pair. A shade of white with the thinnest pair of double orange stripes down the inner forearm. Andrew didn't wear them for much. It didn't go with the silver and gold tone of his uniform nor the black of his wardrobe. He hadn't really put them on since Allison gifted them to him back in 2012.

Andrew took Neil's soda from him after watching the man do little to open the damn thing. He popped off the cap, licking the back before pressing it to Neil's forehead.

Neil quirked up a smile. "It's fresh."

Andrew just turned away with his own drink half done.

"Where the fuck is Nicky? It's boiling out here!" Allison shouted from where she was handing out drinks.

Aaron flicked cooler water at Matt when the man attempted to steal the last lemonade. "Probably got sidetracked talking about Germany again. He acts as if we haven't been caught up with him in the last week."

Kevin rattled the doors like a madman. "Let me in.

We're right here, let me in!"

It would have been hilarious, enough to bring smiles and teasing from the old Foxes. But recently, with Kevin's publicized relapse and his alleged divorce from Thea, well, no one was laughing at Kevin these days.

The outer court walls had seen better days too.

The orange paint had faded to a yellow hue, chipped and dusty with tagging unwashed at the corners. Neil knew the Palmetto Foxes had been on a fortunate rise and he knew sometime after his leave did it begin to fall apart. Wymack bit off more than he could chew, they said. Too many scandals, too many suicides and murders, too many delinquents being allowed on a court. But Neil supposes they did well enough to keep those doors open another year.

Neil's drink was promptly swiped from his hands, the culprit? His son, Milo.

"If you're not gonna drink it at least don't let it go hot."

Neil squinted up at the boy. He did that standing too. Milo had hit puberty and outgrew Neil sometime between 12 and 13, but then the growing never stopped. He stood now, at an even 6ft with no chance of finishing his growth spurt.

Lanky and awkward teenage limbs, freckled and messy haired, Milo somehow stopped looking like Neil. Everyone always says his baby face is nostalgic to first year Neil Josten, but if you put the pictures side by side, Milo always had something Neil didn't. There was a sharpness to him, something he couldn't hide better than Neil.

"Kevin, stop playing with the doors, you'll break them." Renee chastised. It was a miracle to have her here with them in the flesh at all. She spent most of their reunions on video chat with low internet. "I'm sure Coach will be here soon with the keys."

Milo, soda long finished, turned to Kevin with an otter pop between his teeth. "Does it bother you that much?" He mumbled.

Kevin let go of the doors with reluctance. "No... I just... I want to see it already."

Milo hummed around his treat before standing and marching over to the doors. He hip checked Kevin—an eerie sight as they stood head to head in height—and pulled something from his pocket.

Milo fiddled with the fence and it sprung open.

The Old Foxes stared in disbelief.

"You had the keys the whole time? Milo!" Dan said.

Milo shrugged, displaying a paperclip and a hairpin. He shoved the fence out the way and marched on to the doors he'd need a code for. As Milo fooled around with it, the Foxes all turned to Neil with faces of amusement and exasperation.

"He's your son alright." They said.

"Little Josten."

"Little Monster." They all cooed.

"That's 'Little Minyard-Josten' to you." Milo announced before punching a button on the door.

It beeped and clicked and Milo turned the handle to allow everyone inside.

"How did you know the code!?" Kevin wondered.

"They just had a baby, no?" Milo pointed out. "It's always been someone's birthday."

The foyer was almost the same as they'd all last seen it. Orange benches were set here and there, and the floor was white tile with orange paw prints. Orange cones were stacked in a corner, three deep and six high. A white door was on the wall to their right, and an orange door was opposite them. Only difference was there was a crack in the wall no one patched up, and the white tiles had muddled down to a moppy grey.

Milo moved past it to the gear closet. As the Old Foxes looked around and chatted about memories a decade old, Milo had suited up and stolen a racquet.

"Should we let him keep doing that?" Allison muttered to the rest.

"Leave him be, this is the most excited we've seen him since before the B R E A K U P call." Dan whispered.

"You know he can spell faster than us, right?"

Aaron whispered back.

"And you know you're a bad whisperer, right?"

Matt countered.

"Cousins!" Anything Aaron was about to say was cut off by Nicky's loud arrival. He raced towards Aaron and Andrew, bringing them into tight squeezes despite the twos wriggling.

Neil smiled because it'd been three years since Andrew had told Nicky he could hug him without asking. Andrew sometimes snapped that he was sick of it, but Andrew had also told Neil years ago that he didn't do regret.

Nicky let out a sharp gasp from his position in hugging Neil. He all but shoved the man into Matt before springing himself onto Milo. "My baby nephew! You've gotten so big! Last time I saw you you were definitely a head shorter! What are they feeding you? Is it Kevin's diet?"

Milo smiled and hugged Nicky as hard as he could despite the pads. "A mix of junk food and Kevin's dietary plan I only follow when I'm bored."

Kevin sent him a glare for that but went back to finding proper gear without a word.

"How did any of you get inside?" Wymack wondered gruffly. Standing in the flesh, was their beloved coach who hadn't seemed to age a day in their eyes. The only thing new was the baby attached to his chest.

Everyone flooded his space in an instant, cooing and awing at the little infant with orange bows in her curly hair. It was a shame Kevin had to be the one to tell them Wymack and Abby were having a baby. He was too excited to remember they wanted to surprise everyone. Sarah was adopted by them as soon as she'd been born, the baby of a previous Fox who didn't want children. None of them knew her from anything other than the tabloids that printed her face everywhere on Exy news the week after her discharge from the hospital. She dropped out of Palmetto soon after and was in the wind before Wymack and Abby could say goodbye.

"Okay you animals, get your diseased faces out of my baby's face. And Kevin, get your face out that closet and hug me dammit."

Kevin paused from where he was pulling a pair of gloves out of the gear closet to sheepishly shuffle over to his father.

"Where's Abby?" Kevin asked as he smiled at

Sarah's squinty face.

"Napping. She wanted to come by but I told her we'd be here all day and she can stop by when she's had at least an hour of sleep." Wymack said.

He tossed the court keys at Neil who used them to unlock all of the doors inside.

Before anyone finished dressing, Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau knocked on the locker room doors. This reunion was special, a chance for Jean to see Renee, and Jeremy to see Kevin in an act of support in these dire times.

Having so many professional exy stars in one room felt charged in a way. Kevin seemed ready to cream his pants, or so Andrew commented.

Jeremy looked good in orange and Jean looked like he'd rather do the scrimmage naked. But Neil only had eyes for Andrew whose old uniform stretched on him like a wet dream.

"Can you even play like that?" Aaron smirked, silently laughing at Andrew's predicament. Aaron hadn't been on his college grind in so long, he'd lost muscle mass but gained a healthy weight that his uniform fit almost perfectly.

Andrew silently knocked Aaron on the shoulder with his racquet and clicked his tongue at the weight of it. Neil understood the feeling. Their old racquets were like feathers, Neil wasn't sure he could play with something so lightweight.

Milo was setting up cones and baskets of exy balls with cheerfulness. He was running around the court with a giddiness that rubbed off onto everyone else.

"Don't forget to stretch," Kevin reminded him.

Milo turned and threw his body into a bridge position before resting into a handstand.

"Show off." Kevin grumbled as Jeremy laughed.

Milo properly stretched afterward, first to finish as he picked up the basket of exy balls.

"I wanna show you something. Miss Renee, may you take the goal for me?" Milo asked.

“My pleasure,” Renee said with a smile. She gave Andrew a friendly pat on the shoulder and took her place in the goal.

“We don’t have all day, Milo.” Kevin complained.

“Let him do what he wants, it’s his first game playing with us.” Dan said.

“My first game playing with you guys was actually in the morning of July 14th, 2006. It was my ‘Unbirthday’ as uncle Nicky put it and Matt knocked me onto my back.” Milo said as he got into position.

“You can’t count that as a real game.” Kevin said.

Milo smiled over his shoulder, one of the ones that made the Foxes refer to him as ‘Little Monster’ at times. “Shut up, Day, and watch this.”

He looked back at Renee who nodded at him and got into position. The stance was loose but almost as sturdy as it’d been all those years ago. Milo took up a ball and tossed it to her lightly, allowing her to hit it back far enough he’d have to chase it down the court. And Milo did. He didn’t want to see where it was headed. With bullet-like speed he took off, throwing himself from the wall, flying down the court before anyone could do much as turn their heads. The ball hit a far wall and came back. Milo jumped, snatching it from the air and landing on his left foot before propelling himself forward. He made light work of the cones and within 10 steps, scored on Renee. Neil didn’t know why but when Milo had taken the ball, he waited for a pass to someone who wasn’t there. It itched at his brain in a familiarity he couldn’t place.

Andrew narrowed his eyes before his mouth quirked into one of his amused expressions.

“What?” Neil wondered a little too loud.

“He’s just doing the most for no reason.” Kevin interrupted.

“He just mimicked Neil’s exact play his first time at a Fox match.” Andrew corrected.

Everyone turned to him in confusion.

Neil looked back, running it through his head but that game had been so long ago he didn’t remember.

Dan's eyes lit up, though. “He passed to me. Neil, you did that same jump thing your first game—back when Seth was taken off and you made your debut. You passed to me because someone was on your ass.”

“There’s no way. We can’t even remember it clearly. No one can say for sure.” Allison said.

Andrew tapped his temple. “I can. Memory like a steel trap, I never took my eyes off him. I’m the one who passed the ball to Neil.”

“It’s a fluke.” Kevin said.

Milo whistled at them to get everyone’s attention. “I’m not finished.” He tossed another ball to Renee. “I’ll call it for you this time; Seth Gordon 2006.” Milo changed the grip on his racquet, hands lower as his fingers gesture higher. He straightened his back and ran a few seconds after the ball flew, watching it with his eyes and racing at a slower yet more desperate pace. Once he’d caught it, he whipped it over his shoulder with such speed and strength, it nearly clipped Renee on the shoulder.

“There’s no way to guarantee that.” Kevin hissed.

Milo tossed another ball and cocked his head at Kevin. “Really? Let’s get more famous. Let’s see…” Milo tapped the button of his racquet against the floor and passed his stick to his left hand and the movement was so specific, Jean and the Foxes straightened in disbelief. “Kevin Day, 2007.” Milo called, once again changing his posture. The ball went and Milo moved, catching it and weaving around cones with such single mindedness it was breathtaking. Renee was serious now as she waited, eager to stop Milo but incapable of accomplishing it. The ball whistled past her ear and the Foxes roared in incredulous excitement.

“Join me, will you, Mister Knox?” Milo asked.

Jeremy smirked and followed onto the court. He attempted to take up a backliner position but Milo moved him into the striker mark. He passed a ball to Jeremy and motioned for him to continue. The Foxes readied for whatever trick Milo held up his sleeve next. He moved his racquet back to his right and hunched his shoulders a bit in a way that left him open for injury. Jeremy moved to get past him and Milo hooked his foot around his and sent him stumbling. Milo then yanked his stick out of his unassuming hands with a simple twist, stealing the ball and sending it across the court to be slammed into the goal wall.

“Jean Moreau, 2005.” Milo said. Jeremy was on his ass behind him, clutching his wrist in surprise.

“That was a dirty move. I had so much faith in you.”

Milo gave him his racquet, using it to pull Jeremy to his feet. “You were expecting Jean-Yvves Moreau, 2009. But I like surprises.”

Jean frowned from his place by the Foxes. “That move is long dead. You can hurt someone with it.”

Milo held up Jeremy’s arm by the elbow, waving it at Jean. “He’s all in one piece. Now I’ve got something special for you all. Get on the court, Miss Renee, Drew, you may wait for my last demonstration off to the side.

As they all took their marks, not for a scrimmage but for shooting on the goal, Milo sauntered onto Renee’s place, tossing his racquet for hers. He spun it around and moved his hands before crouching and staring them down the court. Even with the helmet over his eyes, there was an intensity that boiled the cool air into something claustrophobic to the group. No one had to guess who Milo was mimicking now, but he still called out to them.

“Andrew Minyard, 2016.”

Neil got first dibs as he was the first to line up. He moved past Nicky and shot at the goal with a ferocity he saved for real matches. The deafening crack that boomed through the space as Milo’s racquet connected with the ball made everyone flinch in their spots. The ball sailed through the air like a jet before smacking into the other goal.

“There’s no way you did that!” Nicky screamed.

“That’s Andrew’s move. Do you know how many goalies have attempted to replicate that and succeeded?” Kevin shouted. “Eight! Only six have accomplished it in all exy history!”

“Seven, counting me.” Milo said, tossing the racquet over his shoulder. “But if I’m truly honest, I wouldn’t be able to do it again as accurately. Especially during an intense game. I’ve practiced your moves since I could hold a racquet and I've mastered your techniques in less years than you’ve all been playing. But Drew’s moves are special.”

Kevin was still staring at the ball across the court. “We need that tape. Get us that tape. You’ll need to show it to recruiters—”

“Slow down, Kevin.” Jeremy said.

“You’re turning red.” Jean said.

Kevin seemed close to fainting. When he’d had some water and Wymack promised to send him the security tape, they all got their chance to shoot on Milo who didn’t allow a single one through. After the showboating, they played a real scrimmage. Whoever won got to play with Milo next and even as Kevin lost thrice in a row, he never stopped his giddy chatter about the places Milo would go and the changes he’d bring to the sport.

[firewasabeast]

Prompt: I've been thinking about a mixture of posts on here and I'd really love Tommy going to talk to Eddie because, maybe Eddie isn't being a great friend? I've read some people think Eddie would fall in line with Gerrard (due to being in the army etc.) and I'd love to see a Tommy/Eddie argument!

When Eddie got a knock on his door at 9pm on a Tuesday, he wasn't sure who to expect. He hadn't gotten a call or text from anyone, and he hadn't ordered any food. He figured he'd be arguing with Jehovah's Witnesses, asking them why the hell they were knocking on his door so late? Usually he'd avoid them altogether, but a little piece of him felt like arguing, so he swung the door open with a dramatic sigh.

He was surprised to see Tommy on the other side of the door, hand raised in a fist, ready to knock again.

“Oh. Hey, Tommy. I wasn't expecting you, was I?”

“Um, no. Can I come in for a sec?”

“Sure.” Eddie moved out of the way so Tommy could come inside, closing the door behind him. “Want a beer or something?”

“No, I really can't stay long. I'm heading to Evan's after this.”

Right. Buck. He should've known he'd be getting a visit from Tommy. Buck hadn't exactly left work, or Eddie, on good terms two days ago. Things had been tense for a few weeks now, actually. Everything had slowly been bubbling up until Buck finally burst under the pressure and was sent home early for insubordination. He'd actually been told not to return until he could learn proper chain of command, and if he couldn't learn within a week, he should start searching for a new career path.

“Is Buck the one who sent you?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tommy shook his head. “No. No one sent me.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “So you're not here to kick my ass?”

“Should I be?”

“I don't know,” Eddie answered honestly. “I don't know what you've been told.”

It was kind of a ridiculous sight right now, if you asked Eddie. Two grown men, friends for months now, standing awkwardly in his living room. Neither making any effort to sit or get more comfortable.

“Evan's been having a rough time with Gerrard,” Tommy started. “Sounds like he's Gerrard's main target.”

Eddie shrugged. “Gerrard likes to push buttons. Buck's buttons are easy to push.”

“Last week he asked Evan if he'd like a bra to go with the apron he wore while cooking.” Tommy tensed even as he spoke the words. “That doesn't just sound like pressing buttons to me.”

“He's a wannabe drill sergeant pissed about the fact he never made it through basic training. You do what he says, keep quiet, use your manners, and make him feel like he's the most important person in the room. That's how you get through a shift.” Eddie moved to sit on the couch, but Tommy remained standing. “You know how this works the same as I do,” he added.

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy agreed, although his voice was a bit more commanding now. “Probably better than you do, actually. Doesn't make it okay.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you here, Tommy? I'm tired.”

“To try and stop you from becoming me, you idiot. I've been where you are. I've sat beside Gerrard and watched him treat person after person like nothing but garbage. I kept quiet, I made him feel important, I followed behind him like I was his damn puppy dog. I called him sir, I did whatever he asked, I laughed along with his jokes. You know what that made me?”

Eddie was starting to get annoyed. “What?”

“Him. I was no better than him.”

Eddie's eyes darkened. He stood back up, taking a step toward Tommy. “Are you seriously comparing me to that piece of crap?”

“If the mustache fits.”

“You need to get out of my house now,” Eddie warned. He could feel his body filling with the same boiling rage that got him thrown in jail a few years ago. He didn't need that to happen again.

“You repeat to me what Gerrard told Evan two days ago and I'll go,” Tommy offered. “Tell me what Gerrard said that finally made him explode and I'll leave.”

“Or I can call the cops on you for trespassing,” Eddie replied, moving to the door and opening it.

Tommy made no effort to leave. “Go for it.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Eddie's chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. When Eddie realized Tommy was never going to back down, his shoulders slumped. “Come on, Man, just leave.”

Tommy doubled down. “Tell me what he said,” he demanded, speaking each work slowly and carefully.

“H- He... God, Tommy.” He looked away from him, unable to maintain eye contact as he recalled the event. “Buck fell while we were at a scene, bruised his tailbone. When we were sitting down to eat, Buck moved slow. He winced when he finally got seated... Gerrard saw and said th- that maybe if he... if he spent less time taking and more time giving he wouldn't have so much trouble.”

“But,” Tommy beckoned for him to continue.

Eddie took a deep breath. “But he should have expected Buck to be the woman.”

Tommy nodded. “There it is.”

“Listen, Tommy, I-”

“He could've really used someone sticking up for him. One person to step in and tell Gerrard he'd crossed a line. I get that Hen can't do anything right now. She can't risk not getting Mara back. And I know Howie can't do anything to lose Mara. But you could have said something, Eddie. You could have been there for him, but you weren't.”

And there was the anger again. “Why the hell is it on me?!” he exclaimed. “I've been going through my own crap, and it's not like you or Buck have really been around to help me out.”

“Oh, you cannot be serious right now.” Tommy's posture straightened, his body somehow becoming even wider and taller. It would have caused Eddie to pause and think about what was about to come out of his mouth if he wasn't so mad.

“Yeah, I am serious. I've needed people too, Tommy, but you guys have been too busy with each other to even notice.”

“You made the mess you're in right now, Eddie!” Tommy yelled. “You did that! You screwed up and it's on you to fix it! But Evan didn't do anything wrong. He sure as hell didn't deserve to be talked to like that, and now his job is on the line because you decided keeping the peace with a piece of scum like Gerrard was more important than speaking up for your supposed best friend. So, yeah, that's on you!” Tommy began to make his way to the door, ready to push past Eddie on his way, but Eddie wasn't finished.

“Hey!” He yelled, shoving Tommy back so he couldn't leave. “I've been trying to fix everything on my own! Trying to get my own life back! Hell, I just got to talk to my kid for the first time in over a month!”

“And who you think got Christopher to answer the damn phone?!”

It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of Eddie's lungs. He stood there, his mouth hanging open as he tried to find the right words to speak. “I... Buck's been talking to Christopher?”

“Every day,” Tommy confirmed. “He calls or texts. Facetime's him every once in a while too. He's been telling Chris how you're doing, trying to get him to call you or text you. He even suggested writing you a letter.”

“I didn't know that.”

“He didn't really want you to. Christopher had promised him the next time you tried to call, he'd answer. Evan's been like a kid on Christmas Eve, excited for you to tell him how it went after you two talked.”

Eddie didn't know what to say. He wasn't angry anymore, just incredibly disappointed with himself.

“He's always had your back, Eddie,” Tommy said, making his way out the door. Eddie didn't stop him this time. “It'd be really nice if you had his.”

[callsign-rogueone]

five thirty

Dain Aetos x reader (Love!)

words: 1.0k

🏷️: no book spoilers, no warnings, set the week before fw begins, I decided to split this up so you’ll get Liam in the next one! I just wanted to post something today.

You don’t recognize the pattern of the knock at the door — it isn’t the specific rhythm your friends use to let you know it’s them. No point in answering, then.

The knocking stops, whoever it is outside seemingly giving up. You can roll back over and sleep until ten minutes before formation, like usual.

Then it starts again, louder.

You groan into your pillow, dragging yourself out of bed and grabbing a knife off of your desk before you unlock the door, pulling at Cosa’s power just in case. “…Dain?”

He wrenches his gaze away from the smooth expanse of your bare thighs as he speaks, his cheeks reddening. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

You bring a hand up to yawn, and the sleepy sigh you let out as you exhale stirs something in his chest. “It’s too damn hot for pants,” you answer finally.

He’ll give you that — it’s the second week of July, and the humidity is killer; he hasn’t been sleeping fully clothed either.

You realize he still hasn’t told you why he’s here. “Do you need something?”

“It’s Tuesday,” he responds, as if that should clear things up. “Leadership run?”

“Huh?”

“Every Tuesday and Thursday at 5:30, all the leadership gets together for a group run. Nobody told you about this?”

You really hope he’s fucking with you, but he’s never seemed like the pranky type, too by the book to do anything like this as a joke. “Five thirty,” you repeat, to confirm. “Five thirty in the morning.”

“Yes. Which is in about…” he peers behind you, looking at the clock on your desk. “three minutes.”

You take a deep breath, considering shutting the door in his face and crawling back into bed, consequences be damned, when Garrick appears behind him, also dressed for a workout.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

It’s definitely not a prank. They’d never team up for something like this.

“Told you she’d be pissed,” Garrick says to Dain, grinning. “Now put some clothes on.”

You give him the finger, shutting the door with a gust of air and moving to go get dressed. Stupid fucking deathtrap military school, fucking morale leadership bullshit. If it wouldn’t get you in trouble with Brennan, you’d ask to be demoted just so you won’t have to do this twice a week.

You open the door again, seeing only Dain waiting for you. Of course Garrick would abandon you with him. He probably thinks this whole thing is hilarious.

You move through the hallway in silence, down the flight of stairs and out to the courtyard. The rest of the leadership is nowhere to be seen, but Dain seems to know where you’re going, motioning for you to follow him as he starts off at a steady jog.

You don’t bother to ask how long this run will be, because you know that the answer, whatever it is, is going to be too long. Thankfully he seems to notice that you need a break, slowing to a stop after a quarter mile or so.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” you pant, reaching for your waterskin — it’s only half-full, and a little stale, since you haven’t refilled it in a day, but you’ll take what you can get: you feel like you’re dying.

“It’s tradition,” he answers, as if that’s obvious.

“One that I cannot wait to end next year.”

He bristles. “You can’t just decide to end a hundred year old tradition like that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone did,” you mutter.

You see Dain’s eyes soften, but you pull your gaze away quickly, not wanting to have this conversation right now. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

You swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, not acknowledging the apology. “Come on. We’re behind.”

After another few minutes, you see a pack of at least a hundred headed toward you, likely on the second half of an out-and-back run. “About time you two joined us,” Garrick says, patting you on the back a little too hard as you fall in next to him and Bodhi.

“You were the one who left us behind,” you rasp. “And not everyone is as freakishly tall as you. You’re impossible to make pace with.” Speaking of freakishly tall… “Hold on. Where’s Xaden?”

“Your brother chose not to join us,” Amber Mavis answers, making it clear in her tone that she hates the pair of you — and that she doesn’t respect your self-described relation to the wingleader. As if you didn’t hate her enough already.

You turn your head in her direction, hoping the look on your face makes it obvious how much you despise everything about her. “You’re telling me this is optional?”

“Not for you, princess,” Garrick answers. “When you’re a wingleader, you can decide how to spend your mornings. Until then, you’re here with us.”

Great.

Another knock.

You scrape yourself off the mattress, not bothering with the knife this time: you know it’s Dain, here to wake you up. You’re still sore from the last run — you hadn’t had time to stretch first, and even though you’d missed part of it by being late, it was still too much for you.

“Gimme a minute,” you mumble in greeting, not bothering to close the door as you turn around to find socks and shoes.

“Did you sleep in your running clothes?” he asks, watching your little wisps of air move through the room, straightening up and making your bed.

“Mm,” you reply. “Saves time.”

“Smart,” he comments idly. His eyes catch on the small brown shape floating down onto your pillow — a stuffed bear.

Your cheeks warm as you realize what he’s looking at. “Yes, I brought him with me. He was one of the only things that survived the fire.”

“I understand,” he reassures. “I had a little green dragon for a while. It got lost when we moved outposts. I was inconsolable for a week, apparently.”

“Aw. Did you find it, or just get another one?”

“Neither,” he answers, still looking at the bear. “I just got over it, I guess.”

[shakethediseeas]

NURSE, NURSE!

You've got a high fever! WHICH NURSES SHALL TAKE CARE OF YOU? (not professionals!!!) alien stage x reader i made this randomly and thought i might as well post it ALIEN STAGE CHARACTERS! (this is liek. no aliens au)

MIZI + SUA

10/10, best nurse duo. With Sua and Mizi, you get attention 24/7 and are pampered until you've fully recovered!

When Mizi found out you were sick, she got to you as quickly as possible, asking you frantic questions like whether you were okay and what happened.

Sua was the one to find out since you had been in bed rolling around in sweat so she took your temperature and wham! high fever!

They cancel any plans they have that day to make sure you're alright/

Sua is always checking in on you if you ever need anything, also giving your scalp a soft message.

Covered in warm blankets and a wet towel on your head, you groan and say thank you to both of them since they were so sweet. They just laugh and say, Of course, since you're close to them.

They also make chicken and vegetable soup, which is super good! They talk to you about their day or funny things that happened even though you can only reply with groans.

You recover quickly!

MIZI + IVAN

6/10 treated you like a baby! but forgot a bit of the essentials

You guys slept outside, waking them both up with your constant sneezing and soft groans in your sleep.

They hover over you and make brief eye contact with each other. Sua is the one who usually knows what to do but without her being here, Mizi kind of freezes and panics.

They are kind of stupid at first, but they get the hang of things quickly!

Ah, you do this, I'll do that!! With smiles, they run to get what they need- leaving you to wake up on your own, a bit upset.

Mizi comes back first, hugs you, and rambles on about how worried she is before making you lie down and placing a cold towel on you.

Ivan takes a damn long time, but he holds up the soup he made proudly before making you sit up. He holds the spoon to your lips- "Now say ah~"

Embarrassed, you shake your head, but Mizi nods along, encouraging Ivan as he makes stupid plane or train noises to get you to eat.

When you finally finish eating, they realize they never got you blankets, so instead, they use themselves as blankets! Yay! they got sick later

TILL + IVAN

5/10, with Ivan and Till you get to experience Till yelling at Ivan while Ivan just playfully teases the both of you.

Till actually attempts to help you get better while Ivan is just there to annoy you both is what basically sums this up.

When Till got the call from Ivan that you were sick, not even a minute later, he was barging in with everything you probably needed.

He starts yelling at Ivan about why you were on the floor, and Ivan just says the floors are cold; he thought that would help.

it was like a mother and a father arguing again while you were just there, completely neglected. Once they find out, though, they quickly stop and like lock in or soemthing.

the rest of the day they sit next to ur bed, giving you anything you need, probably watching something together as well.

TILL + LUKA

-10/10 with Till and Luka you experience a hell hole of none stop competition and a nightmare

thats what you thought when they were fighting over which blankets they should put on you.

Till would pick one, but then Luka would say something like oh yeah but this is their favorite and blah blah, Till just threw the blanket at Luka.

When they got to your comfort stuffed animal and which one you would like to have while ur sick, it was even worse; in the end, they just covered you in a pile of your stuffed animals.

and they both made their individual soup were if you picked one first the other was going to get mad, you finished both soups and Luka's tasted like straight up poison, making you instantly throw up.

They both scream in worry, forgetting their competition.

LUKA + HYUNA

if it was only Hyuna it'd be a 10/10 but luka was there poking you and making fun of you the whole time so knock it down to a 7/10

Hyuna is the best at taking care of you when youre sick and she doesn't mind pampering you all day long!

In the middle of you being in heaven enjoying ur sick time with Hyuna- she was away making food, Luka barges in unaware of ur state before saying ew why do you look like that.

Once he finds out you're sick, he doesn't leave, just to make your experience so much more enjoyable. He'd tease you about sweating so much or having snot in your nose, which was horrible.

When Hyuna comes back, she screams at him, seeing him pulling on ur cheeks and making another jab at ur sick state.

in the end, Hyuna had two patients to care for because she wrapped Luka in a cacoon next to you, hoping that would make him sick.

seeinmg him trying to squirm away from ur arms is such a sight for her.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 8, A moment of bliss

Masterlist Word count: 3.5 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Hi everyone. Enjoy Sylus being a switch/bottom for this one. He won't be for every chapter, but he's desperate and you've been waiting for this sooooo... I do want to remind everyone that this is my first time writing a smutty story. I hope it makes sense. <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'And then he slept over,' you tell Zayne over the phone and quickly add, 'we just cuddled. It was nice.' He doesn't need to say anything for you to know he disapproves. Just wait, he'll tell you that you shouldn't invite men you don't know over to your apartment. Especially not types like Sylus. 

'That's nice. He deserves something good in his life.' "What?!" 'Are you still there?' You probably stayed silent with your jaw on the floor a little too long. Maybe you shouldn't be too surprised. When you showed Zayne a picture of Sylus he looked physically pained, but not in a fearful way. It was empathetic. 

'Yes, yes, I'm still here, sorry. I expected you to lecture me on inviting strange men into my apartment,' you admit. 

'I would, but I know this man. I think he's a good one,' Zayne admits, 'I'm glad you ran into him. Seems the type for you.' Fair enough. Zayne has listened to you whine about men often enough to be glad you're finally actually like one. There's a knock at your door and a rush of nerves goes through your system. 

'Oh, that must be him,' you tell Zayne, 'I'll call you later, okay? We still need to set a date for our annual trip.' 

'Sure. I'll talk to you later.' His voice sounds amused, almost like he's smiling through the phone. You feel a little flustered. He probably picked up on your tone change when you heard the knocks on the door. 

'Bye.' You put your phone in your pocket and walk towards the door, stopping in front of the hallway mirror to check yourself one last time. Outfit, comfy but cute. Hair, eh, good enough. Makeup, minimal but nice. You pull the door open to reveal Sylus in a barely buttoned black blouse and slacks. Now you feel awfully underdressed in your jeans. Are you sure you agreed on dinner and a movie at his place? This looks like he's taking you to a 3-star dining and rented the whole cinema. 

But, you should have known he was going to be dressed like that. After all, it was the same outfit he wore in his newest video. The one he posted today, earlier than he usually does. In a way, you feel like he did it to tease you. Especially since it wasn't all that erotic. It was just him sitting back against the headboard of his bed with a book in his hand, reading the most utterly horny smutty chapter you've ever heard in your damn life. It nearly made you fall off your chair running to your room to masturbate, but you decided against it. The night's still young after all. 

The chapter stuck with you though. Because it wasn't all that horny because of the actual sex happening, but more because of the love between the characters. To be desired so carnally, to be loved so openly, is a fucking turn on. 

'You look beautiful,' he notes, taking all of your thoughts away with one look. The way his eyes rake over you, you feel like you're a marble statue in a museum. Loved, admired, valued, but most of all, beautiful. A blush spreads on your cheeks. 

'Thank you. You look nice too.' 

'Just nice?' 

'Stunning.' The nerves don't calm down and you're not sure why. You've already had him in your bed, you kissed him, cuddled him, let him... Why are you blushing at the thought of it now? Is it because this is a proper date? It's not even that serious. It's just dinner and a movie at his place. 

'Ready?' He offers you his arm. You nod and place your hand on his forearm. It's awfully proper, but it does feel very nice to be treated so respectfully. 

'I have to say, I was expecting a kiss,' you admit. He grins and leans down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Nothing special, just a gentle greeting from a lover. 

A lover? No, more than that. It feels like home. Like you've been kissing his lips for years, but the spark is still there. Like this is how it's meant to be. Like he is completely and utterly in love with you, and you feel the same. 

Shit, you're in love. 

Sylus leads you into his apartment. The one time you were in there, you didn't really take in his decor. It's very much him. The whole place is made up of black, white, some dark wood tones, yet it still feels warm. It might be because he has taken a page out of your book with all the candles he's lit around the apartment. The dining table is set beautifully. There's red wine on the table already, along with a beautiful bouquet of deep red roses that look almost velvety. There's some music playing that feels slightly suggestive but not enough to comment on. 

'Wow, you really went all you,' you note. You feel his arm slip from your grasp and around your waist to pull you closer against him. He looks down at you with the lightest flicker of a big smile. 

'For you, I'd rearrange the stars if you asked me to. Now go sit down. Food will be ready in a bit.' 

Sylus stands behind the stove while you take a seat at the table. Of course, you take the seat across from the kitchen so you can watch him work. The way he slightly is swaying and softly humming along with the music is truly a vision to behold. A domestic vision. A vision of a future you'd like to live. 

He looks over his shoulder, seeing you leaning on your palm, elbow on the table, staring at him. You feel your cheeks heat up again but no urge to look away. Instead, you smile at him and he smiles back. He picks up the pan and walks over to the table, setting it down in the middle between the two plates.  

'Pasta alla Norma. Say when,' he says as he starts dishing out the food on your plate. You nod your head to him after a bit, having a very generous portion of pasta on your plate. He does the same for himself and grabs the wine to uncork it. All of it goes so smooth, so fluent, like every motion of his is perfected. 

And so is the food. It's not that special of a pasta dish but it's made so damn well. 'Is there anything you can't do,' you joke, 'I might just have to marry you right here and now.' His lips quirk into a smile. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? We barely know each other,' he teases back, 'what if I turn out to be a serial killer?' 

'Then I'd die a happy death.' Even though you are joking, somewhere in the back of your mind you know that it's true. You've never had a connection to anyone before like you have with him. It's new and exciting, but most of all it feels right. 

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The dinner is mostly uneventful, except that Sylus got some sauce on his clothes. He claimed it was because he was admiring you, but you saw him struggle to get the bite on his fork properly. However, this one time you decided not to tease him because you do want to cuddle up to him during the movie. 

At least, that was the plan. Pure innocent cuddling.  

Seems Sylus has different plans. You're sitting leaned against him, knees pulled up onto his lap, his arm around you, but for about ten odd minutes now his free hand has been tracing figured on your thigh. Each passing moment he seems to get a little bit closer to your inner thigh. 

The teasing gets you hot and bothered, which only makes Sylus smirk. You don't have to look up at him to know. He moves his other hand from your shoulder to your waist, his thumb gently rubbing your skin so that your shirt starts riding up until you feel his touch on your skin. 

That's when he shoves his other hand between your thighs, so close to your core, pulling a gasp from your lips. As you smack your hand in front of your mouth and look up, you can already feel Sylus’ laugh rumbling through his chest. You won't stand for that shit. 

With one swift movement, you sit yourself on his lap. Hands gently draped over his shoulders; hips so close to his but not quite close enough. He hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you right on top of his bulge. The friction makes you gasp, but you try to keep a straight face. 

'We're not watching the movie, are we,' he asks suggestively. You move your hands to the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them slowly, one by one. In response, his hands start roaming over your hips, your thighs, they grace your ass and lower back. You feel yourself start to grind against him ever so slightly. It's almost involuntarily and gets more intense when you see how much Sylus is blushing while trying to keep a straight face. 

'Don't know why you're asking me. You're the one who started it.' Your hands get to the bottom button that you can still see. Instead of undoing it, you splay your hands out over his stomach, exploring all the skin you've freed as you rake your nails over the lean muscles on his stomach. 

'Mmm, I know sweetie, but consent is sexy,' he groans, moving his head towards your shoulder, he presses a kiss under your ear, 'do I have your consent?' 

'You do,' you say breathlessly, moving your hands behind his neck, entangling your fingers in his hair as you grind on him a little harder. He gently bites the spot he just kissed as a reply and grips your hips roughly, guiding you over him while he bucks up at you. His breathing becomes labored as you two dry fuck like a bunch of horny teenagers. 

He moves his head to kiss your lips. It's all tongue and teeth, desperately chasing a high. Somewhere in your mind you had expected Sylus to be cool, calm, collected when it comes to sex, but seeing him this excited because of you gives you confidence the likes of which you have never experienced. 

Suddenly, he drops his head back to your shoulder and bites down as his movements become less rhythmic. He stops moving all together and looks up at you with big eyes, staring up at you like you're made of pure stardust. 

'Did you just-' 

'Yes.' 

'Because-' 

'Because an angel was riding me.' A grin spreads across your face. He came in his pants like a fucking teenager because of you. That's so fucking hot. If he starts praising you any more you might just become a nightmare to deal with. 

'Wanna do it again without clothes?' 

'More than you could ever imagine.' He grabs your ass and stands up with you in his arms. A yelp slips from your lips as you quickly grab his shoulders. There's that smirk again. Shit, this could be the switch Olympics at this point, that way that you keep flipping. 

Being in Sylus’ bedroom is slightly strange. You've seen it from all angels before, even though you've never been there before. He lays you down on his bed and you see yourself looking back on the ceiling. For a second, your mind is completely lost until you realize that there's mirrors on his ceiling. Strangely, that doesn't surprise you in the slightest. 

Then, you see Sylus taking off his shirt. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him as he undoes the button on his jeans. A devious idea pops into your head and you grab his hand to stop him.  

He watches you intensively as you switch places with him so he is seated at the edge of the bed. His eagerness to touch you has a hold on him but he's trying so hard to let you do whatever. You take his hands and guide them to the hem of your shirt. Then, you slide them up. He quickly catches on and helps you take your shirt off, revealing a beautiful black lace bra. 

'Shit,' he cusses under his breath, tossing your shirt somewhere in the corner. His hands move to your jeans and undo the button and zipper. One peek at your matching undies has him groaning. He helps you step out of your jeans and grabs your hips gently, pulling you towards him. You put your hands on either sides of his face. His eyes are on yours, but they keep flickering down to your lips while his thumbs gently rub your hips. 'All this for me?' 

'All for you.' Your voice comes out sultry, seductive. Nothing you've ever sounded like before. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him, and kisses you slowly. 

'You look beautiful,' he mumbles against your lips, drunk off your body and the lingering thought of being inside it. He finally peels himself off your body and switches sides with you again. 'Lay down. I'll be right back.' 

'Don't leave me,' you whine as you grab his hand. He stops for a second, physically restraining himself. 

'Condom,' he says and lets go of your hand, disappearing into the bathroom. You decide to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, eagerly awaiting his return while you soak through your panties. It takes him less than a minute to come back, and when he does his jeans are already off. You eye his bulge with your mouth slightly agape. Sure, you had seen it before, but everything looks smaller on a phone screen. He catches the worry in your eyes as he puts one knee on the bed to be closer to you. 'We don't have to-' 

'Shut up,' you quip, 'I'll be fine. Just go slow.' There's that grin again. With one hand, he reaches behind you and unhooks your bra with ease, with the other he hands you the condom, then he guides you onto your back. You try to take off your bra as you lay, but he grabs your hand and guides it to his hair. For a second, you don't understand but then he dips his head down and starts kissing your chest, slowly making his way over your clothed nipple and kissing it, leaving a wet spot on the lace. With his other hand he pushes the straps off your shoulders.  

Within seconds you are reduces to a whimpering, moaning mess. Your legs spread to make room for him and he gratefully takes his place between them. Sylus finally grabs the bra and removes it, joining it with your shirt and pants on the floor. His hand returns to your breast quickly, his hand gently massaging it while his lips make their way down lower. 

Slowly but surely, he reaches your panties and places lingering kisses just above them. Your hips buck up towards him and you hear the rumble of his rich chuckle. 'Sweetie, you know what you do to me. I fear I might not survive if I spend all my time between your legs.' 

'And I fear I might not survive if you don't fuck me right now,' you groan, giving a firm thug on his hair. You hear him gasp and it goes straight to your pussy. You cuss under your breath as you look down at the smug smile he wears. His fingers hook under your panties and pull them off. They join your other clothing on the floor. 

'You're soaked,' he notes, satisfied. 

'And you're not inside me yet.' Another rumbling laugh as he reaches for his own boxers and pulls them off in a swift motion. Shit, he's big and... are those- 

'They'll feel good. Trust me,' he promises as he watches you look at the two piercings making up his frenum ladder. You reach out to touch it and he lets you. He shivers under your touch as you run your hand over the metal beats on the underside of his dick. 

'One of these days I'm going to make you fuck me raw,' you say, not really realizing what you're saying as you're completely enamored with his dick and piercings. 

'You can't say stuff like that. I'm trying to go slow,' he almost gasps for air with every word and snatches the condom from your hand to quickly roll it on. You watch him lean over you, one of his hands firmly planted next to your head, the other guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

'Fuck slow.' You wrap your legs around him, pulling him towards you. He slips inside easily but goddamn it's a fucking stretch to say the very least. All you can hear is a mixed chorus of groans and gasps. He doesn't move his hips as his eyes study your face, fearing the discomfort he sees might be too much for you. However, you could care less. You feel so incredibly full and ecstatic to be spending the night with him that you might just burst right now. You reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss. 

'Are you alright,' he asks, holding off the kiss until he has your ok, 'I'm all the way in.' 

'I'm fine. Just kiss me and please move. I need it so fucking bad,' you beg. He does as you say, crashing his lips on yours as he sets a painfully slow tempo to get you used to him. You feel like you're going to snap if he keeps this up. 'Please move faster.' Your words sound more like a moan. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? You seem to be enjoying it just fine.' He looks down at you with pure amusement. Seems he's in a mood. You quickly shove his arm and manage to turn him on his back, not that he puts up much of a fight. 

'I thought you wanted me on top,' you tease back, sheeting yourself on his dick in one motion before he can even respond. Sylus lets out a low groan, throwing his head back and clawing at your hips for something to hold on to. 'Are you going to be a good boy for me and let me ride you?' 

'What happens if I say no.' 

'You'll have to find out.' He nods in response and makes himself comfortable on the pillows. You take that as your go ahead and set an absolutely feral pace. He was right about those piercings. They feel amazing.  

The horniest gasp you've ever heard slips from Sylus’ lips as he turns bright red in the face. His hands move down to your thighs, nails digging into your skin. You'll certainly have bruises tomorrow. 

'Does that feel good,' you ask him as you lean down a little, planting your hands on his chest, nails raking over his pecs. 

'Yes,' he moans, looking absolutely beautifully drunk on you. You feel your high approaching, as does he from what you can tell. He's so close to unraveling and it's beautiful. You wish you could capture this moment, keep this feeling bottled up on your nightstand.  

His hands move back to your hips as he suddenly plants his heels against the mattress and starts trusting up into you, hitting new highs deep inside of you. Highs that no one has ever hit before. Highs that you want him to hit each and every day. He's addicting. Your whole body is tingling as you lean closer towards him, trying to keep up with his pace while you kiss him. He seems too focused to kiss you properly. It's a mess of spit, biting, teeth clanking, and it's so fucking hot. You lick down his neck as you feel your high approaching so fucking fast. 

And there it goes. You hear an animalistic groan next to you, feel it rumble through his chest as his motions become sloppier. Your body topples over the edge and in a moment of absolute bliss, to suppress the absolutely vile sounds you make, you bite down on his shoulder. Hard. Sylus moans at the pain, grabbing your ass to push your body down against him, holding you in place speared on his cock. 

Waves of pleasure shake through your body as Sylus presses sweet kisses on top of your head. His hips move ever so slightly, helping you ride it out. Your eyelids start feeling heavy, your body is aching, your pussy is clenching up. 

'Are you alright?' Sylus voice is different now. It sounds almost worried. You release his shoulder from your bite and prop yourself up on his chest. 

'Peachy,' you reply with a hazy smile, 'wanna take a nap and do it again in a few hours?' 

There goes that rumbling laugh of his again. His hands start rubbing your back as he leans up to peck your lips. It's such an innocent gesture if you don't think about the fact that his dick is still inside you, twitching with every single tiny movement you make. 'As much as I would like that. Let's give it a few more hours and do it again in the morning. Deal?' 

'Only if we take a shower together.' 

'I'll do you one better. I have a tub.' 

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[crazybiscuit]

Uptown Girl

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you. Warnings: This is going to be a long fic and the reader will be a bit of a bitch at first. The story will definitely contain violence, excessive use of alcohol, smut and mentions of death. This chapter doesn't have any graphic content though. On side note, this is set in 1983 and sadly, Lily (my wife... 😔) and James are dead. So Sirius is in Azkaban and Peter is "dead". Word Count:  2287 Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider! A/N: Let's pretend I didn't mean to post this yesterday... London was an actual nightmare to map out in my brain and I'm fully aware the title doesn't make total sense considering uptown and downtown is a mostly American concept but I figured it fit the context of the story. So for our sake, Remus will live in East London, closer to the Thames, and you, my dear Readers will live in West London, more North of the city. On a side note, fuck JKR and her disgusting beliefs. Also, to anyone struggling, whether it be personal life or political climate, I hope you're doing alright. Writing is my current escapism and I hope I can help someone else in the process. On another note, chapter 2 should be posted on the 28th!

 

“When is that damned exterminator going to get here?” your father’s gruff voice was muffled by his handkerchief he held to his nose as he walked into the parlour.

“We should’ve just called the ministry,” the woman sat next to you snapped, her head sticking out of the window taking advantage of the fresh air, “No one would’ve ever cared about our little problem. But no, you had the brilliant idea to hire some random man you found in a pub.”

You brushed your damp hair, trying your best to ignore the foul stench emitting from beneath the floor, “There’s nothing small about our problem, so I’d much rather keep this discreet myself.”

You should’ve known better than to oppose your poor, dear mother, as she grasped her chest as if he couldn’t breathe, “Discreet! I don’t care how discreet we are dealing with this! This man will fail to help us, screw up and we will have to call the ministry anyways. Hell! He’s probably a fraud and planning to rob us. Do you have any idea how much worse that will be! People will think we are fouls who can’t maintain our estate.”

You didn’t bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes as you glanced back out to the cloudy sky, which caused mother to rant about disrespect to the old man, now sitting in his recliner.

The fall wind was a welcome guest as you began to carefully style your hair, turning your attention to your faint reflection in the window. The bundimun infestation might have stalled the redecorating efforts of this old dirty hole of townhouse, but it was certainly not going to stop you from looking your best.

“It’s lucky Josephine is still in France. I'm beginning to doubt any amount of magic can revive this place.”

“Enough complaining,” your father cut in, as he cast another scouring charm in an attempt to lessen the smell, “We all know this isn't ideal, but you should be grateful we even found this estate for you.”

You felt slightly annoyed as you finished your hair, frowning at him through the glass reflection. Your hand dropped dejectedly as you glanced back with a sigh. He was right, despite every one of your arrangements falling through due to the war, your parents had still managed to find you a respectable match, “I know, I know… I'm sorry. This is all just frustrating.”

Your parents shared a look but remained silent. However, this didn’t last long as your mother suddenly stood up, “I feel like I might faint.” 

Your father let out an exasperated sigh at her theatrics.

“I am sorry, dear, but I cannot do this anymore. You'll have to deal with the exterminator yourself, I'm going out for lunch with Y/N–”

Before your father could protest in annoyance, you interrupted, “Actually, I still need to finish my makeup, so you can go with Papa.”

They put very little effort into arguing and quickly vanished from the house. The silence would've been appreciated if it weren’t for the disturbing smell surrounding you and you found yourself tilting your head back as you leaned against the window sill. Even upside down, the townhouses that lined the street bored you, and you decided to stare at the sea of grey clouds slowly drifting across the sky instead.

You figured, much to your annoyance, that it would likely rain again today. Your attention snapped to the street when you heard the crunching of the colourful leaves beneath someone’s shoes. You flipped over to get a proper look of the man coming up the street and your interest peaked. He stood out against the pristine houses, his dark clothes seemingly worn from years of wear on his tall, though lanky figure, and he seemed handsome enough even from the second floor.

You quickly grabbed your wand and summoned your silk robe, slipping it over your nightgown. He must’ve been the man your father hired, and with that thought, you grabbed your perfume bottle to apply some.

By the time the doorbell rang, you had grabbed your lipstick and you carefully applied it as you looked at yourself in the mirror against the wall. The bell rang a second time and you sighed, quickly wiping off the colour that was out of place. You smoothen out your silk robe before heading to the front door, opening it and finding yourself faced with a man’s hand frozen midair, ready to knock.

“Oh, sorry,” your eyes snapped up to the face that spoke and you met the man’s slightly startled hazel eyes. He was taller than you expected when you saw him outside and his light brown hair was messy but still made him look rather charming. He seemed a few years older, likely in his mid or late 20s. But what truly caught your eyes were the scars scattered across his face, neck, hands. Any bit of skin you could see was littered with scars, “Hi, you hired pest control..?”

His deep voice snapped you out of your daze and you noted the faint Welsh accent as you stepped aside, opening the door wider for him, “Right… come in.”

The man took notice of your outfit and nonchalant demeanor, but remained professional as he followed you in. His expression remained steady despite the familiar pungent smell filling the house. He awkwardly adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Your father hadn’t told him the exact issue, only promising to pay him nicely, and Remus hadn’t exactly allowed himself the privilege of worrying about the oddity of the situation. However, you did notice his stance relaxed as he recognized the infestation he was handling, “Bundimuns?”

“Unfortunately, that is correct,” you sighed, looking back as you opened the door to the area where the test was the most prominent. You noted his slight hesitancy to walk in as he observed the half-decorated house, “Our house warming party is in a few days and we need this issue to be solved quickly so we can finish the renovations.”

“Right…,” Remus tried his best to hide his expression of confusion and disbelief as he stared at the loud decor scattered around the room, “This seems like it would’ve been easier to report to the ministry.”

“Probably,” you agreed, making your way to the open balcony, “We’ll take our chances though. I’d rather only have one person know about this than deal with official records of the infestation.”

That confused the poor man, who had set his old messenger bag down on one of the uncovered powder blue sofas, but he wasn’t about to push for more answers. Rich, purebloods were always preoccupied with reputation, he knew that very well.

You leaned against the cold, metal railing as you watched him digging through his bag for his notebook, “How long will this take you?”

His gaze met yours for a split second before going back to flipping through the yellowed pages, “It’ll take two or three hours. This is a pretty serious infestation and this building is a lot bigger than it seemed outside…” 

It was clear he had questions but it didn’t seem like he was going to ask. You figured you’d explain the situation to prevent any rumours to spread (though you doubted his words would actually reach any important ears), “This house was built before the ban on extension charms for houses. We have ministry approval to keep it that way.”

Remus smiled a little apologetically, finding the page he was looking for, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. It really isn’t any of my business, so I wasn’t going to ask.”

His passiveness was mildly surprising but you brushed it off. It was nice not having to worry about him talking and clearly he needed the money, so you figured he'd stay quiet. You finally moved and sat at the table on the balcony as he began to read the most effective spells to get rid of the secretions and creatures.

It was fairly cold outside but you figured you should keep an eye on him. To entertain yourself for the next few hours, you figured you should write to your sister and friends back in France. You flicked your hawthorne wand, summoning your quill, paper and other supplies wordlessly.

The two of you worked on your separate tasks quietly, barely interacting for over an hour. You had lost interest in watching him as he cleaned the house out of the green menaces, using spells you had never heard off, and only headed back inside due to the charming British weather. Rain was always such a nuisance.

You carried your stack of letters with you as you walked back into the house. The smell, though still lingering, had mostly vanished from the house, which was a relief, “I'm going to be upstairs. I trust you won’t steal anything. Though I doubt he’d even be able to identify the actual valuable objects.”

The last part was mumbled under your breath but with the context, it was easy for the brunette to infer it was likely an insult. Remus watched you disappear to the third floor, “What?”

“Feel free to ask the house elves for help. They’re in the basement. They’ve been trying their best to deal with the acid,” with that, you shut your bedroom door, completely missing the man’s expression of disbelief and mild offense.

Another hour passed and Remus had done everything in his power to avoid you as he finished up the rest of the house. This would’ve worked wonders if he didn’t have to worry about getting rid of the last few bundimuns in the house, which conveniently were hidden behind the double doors leading to your room.

He sighed. He was never skilled in divination but something in his gut was telling that you were trouble, but he needed the money and he wasn’t about to half-ass his job because of some spoiled brat. So he knocked.

You opened the door and he immediately took note of your outfit change. You were no longer in your silk robe and pajamas, instead dressed in a simple but classy turtleneck and skirt, “I need to charm this room then I’m done…”

You hummed, letting him in as you walked back to your four poster bed, tying the stack of at least 15 letters together so that your owl could carry it. This gave Remus at least a few minutes of peace as he finished up, but it seemed you sensed he was about done as you spoke up, “You know, I know a potion maker in Saint-Brieuc, who is very skilled at Scar-Diminishing Serums.” 

“I beg your pardon?” his Welsh accent seemed deeper now that you’d upset him. The unprompted comment caught the man off guard and he scoffed, unable to believe anyone could be this insensitive.

“I’ve used them a few times and they work wonders. Great way to boost confidence and better your appearance,” you paused, sensing he was upset, much to your confusion, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re fairly handsome, but I think it would definitely hel–”

He suddenly got up after casting one last spell, “I’m done.”

His voice, though composed, made it obvious he was pissed. You hesitated slightly, trying to figure out what you did as you followed him down to the first floor, “No need to be so upset, I was just trying to give you advice.”

He interrupts, surprisingly calm for someone getting insulted every other line, “Well, I kindly reject it, thank you.”

He stopped in front of the front door, almost considering leaving without payment, not wanting anything from you. Before you could protest, he opened the door and your mother let out a yelp, not expecting to see the stranger.

“Oh! Remy, was it?” your father smiled, glad to see the exterminator.

“Remus.”

It finally occurred to you that you had never even introduced yourself or asked for his name.

“Right, right! You must’ve finished! Y/N, did you pay him yet? I left the galleons on the table in the office,” he kept rambling, walking past Remus and you to get the money. Your mother smiled nervously, looking at the man, who she had already predetermined as creepy and untrustworthy, and tried her best to maintain a polite demeanor.

Unfortunately for her, she did a terrible job and her expression visibly relaxed when your father came back to save her from the conversation, “Here’s the 10 Galleons we originally agreed upon, and I figured you could get an extra 5 for–”

“Actually the 10 will suffice,” Remus forced a smile. He wasn’t stupid. It was clear you and your family were hoping to buy his favor to avoid any bad mouthing, and he wasn’t going to do that. Hell, he didn’t even want to talk about you to anyone (not that he really had anyone left), but it was a matter of principle.

You parents were stumped. They had rarely, if ever, met someone so quick to deny their money, “Sir, we insist–”

Remus had stepped out, taking the 10 Galleons, cutting off your mother with a thigh smile, “Honestly, I’m good.”

Your father, in a desperate attempt to get some sort of upperhand spoke words that made your  jaw drop, “Well then, please consider joining us for our solstice party on the 21st.”

Your mother’s expression mirrored yours and you knew they would argue about this later. Remus’s eyes met yours and something awoke in him, a slight sense of amusement he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts. He looked back at your father, adjusting his old bag on his shoulder, and smiled slightly, “I’ll think about it.”

[wendichester]

Hello Darling

Should I be working? Yes…

Have I instead read almost your entire posts about Dean? Maybe…

Do I regret the overtime I now need to work? Absolutely not!

You are so gifted! And I was wondering if I could request a little something… if it’s not up your street that’s totally fine as well!

Maybe Dean knows the reader from way back like high school or something an now he meets her again in a bar that she owns… maybe feelings resurface that both had tried to keep buried and it gets steamy in baby?

Luv ya 🍄

☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ coming home,

summary. there's nothing like coming back to a place where you once felt like home.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 1115

notes. hiya hun! thank you so much for sending this through. honestly had me giggling and kicking my feet with the beginning of this ask. love you! 🩷🍄

Dean pushes the bar's door open, being immediately met by the smell of whiskey and old wood, the low hum of classic rock filling the air. His boots scuffing against the floor as he scans the room. It’s nothing fancy—just a neighborhood joint with a dartboard in the corner and a jukebox that’s probably been there since the 80s—but something about it feels warm. Familiar.

And then he sees you.

You’re behind the bar, hair tied back, moving with easy confidence as you pour a drink. Dean stops in his tracks, the years between high school and now melting away in an instant.

It’s been over a decade since he’s seen you. You’d been the smart, sharp-tongued girl who didn’t take crap from anyone, not even him. And if he’s being honest, he’d had it bad for you back then—your quick wit, your easy laugh, the way you saw through all his bravado. But he’d buried those feelings, just like he buried everything else, and life moved on as his dad forced him into another life; a new start because of yet another hunt.

But now, watching you laugh with a customer, that same spark in your eyes, it’s like no time has passed.

He must’ve been staring too long, because suddenly you glance his way—and freeze.

“Dean Winchester,” you say, a grin spreading across your face as you set down the glass you were polishing.

“Y/N,” he says, a little breathless as he steps closer. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

You lean against the bar, arms crossed, and he tries not to notice how the years have only made you more beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

“Passing through,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, though his heart is pounding. “Heard this place was good. Didn’t know it was yours.”

You laugh, the sound wrapping around him like a warm blanket. “Yeah, well, someone had to turn this dump into something decent.”

“Looks like you did a hell of a job,” he says, glancing around before meeting your eyes again. “How long’s it been?”

“Too long,” you say, your voice softening. “You want a drink, or are you just here to reminisce?”

“I'll take both,” he says with a grin, sliding onto a barstool.

The conversation flows easily, memories spilling out between sips of whiskey. You tease him about his old leather jacket that somehow still fits, and he reminds you of the time you beat him at pool and made him buy you ice cream.

But there’s a weight to the air now, a tension that wasn’t there before. Every brush of your hand as you pass him a drink, every glance that lingers a little too long—it all feels electric.

When the night winds down and the bar clears out, you lock the door and turn to find him still sitting there, watching you with that look in his eyes. The one that used to make your knees weak in high school.

“You sticking around town for a while?” you ask, leaning against the bar.

“Maybe,” he says, standing and closing the distance between you. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you’d wanna go for a drive,” he says, his voice low, his lips quirking into a smirk.

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Still using Baby to pick up girls, huh?”

“Only the special ones,” he says, and the way he’s looking at you makes it clear you’re at the top of that list.

Before you know it, you’re sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala, the engine rumbling to life as he pulls out of the parking lot. The night air is cool, the windows cracked, and the hum of the road beneath you feels like old times.

When he pulls off onto a quiet stretch of road and kills the engine, you turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “This where you murder me?”

“Funny,” he says, leaning closer, his hand resting on the back of your seat. “Nah, just figured it’s been too long since we really talked.”

“Talked, huh?” you say, your voice teasing.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Missed you, sweetheart. More than I realized.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and before you can second-guess yourself, you close the distance, your lips crashing into his.

The kiss is fire, heat, and years of pent-up tension unraveling in one heady moment. His hand slides into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch, while your fingers curl into the leather of his jacket, pulling him closer. The air in the Impala feels stifling, the windows fogging up as his tongue slips past your lips, the taste of whiskey making your head spin.

“Damn,” he breathes when you finally pull back, his forehead resting against yours. His hand slides down to your waist, fingertips tracing the curve of your hip. “Should’ve done that years ago.”

“You’re a little slow on the uptake,” you tease, but your voice is breathless, and your fingers are already trailing down his chest, finding the buttons of his shirt.

“Yeah?” he grins, leaning back just enough to take you in, his eyes dark and heated. “Why don’t you catch me up then?”

You shift, climbing over to straddle his lap, the tight space forcing you to press closer, your knees bracketing his hips. His hands settle on your thighs, the heat of his palms searing through your jeans as his gaze sweeps over you.

“You’re trouble,” he mutters, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice, the way his hands tighten their grip.

“Always have been,” you whisper back, capturing his lips again, this time slower, deeper, your hips rocking against his.

The Impala creaks as you move, your bodies fitting together like a puzzle. Dean groans into your mouth, one hand slipping under your shirt to splay against the small of your back, his calloused fingers drawing shivers as they skim your skin.

“You keep this up, sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice rough and low, “we’re not making it back to your bar tonight.”

“Who said we need to?” you counter, your lips brushing the shell of his ear before you nip at his jawline, making him curse softly.

His head falls back against the seat, his eyes blazing as he looks at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, his hands sliding up your thighs, pulling you even closer.

And as you lose yourselves in each other, the world outside the Impala fades away, leaving nothing but the two of you and the years of longing finally spilling over.

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