#i've been trying not to call him ten in my head bc that's a dumb name but maybe i should just roll with it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[teencopandthesourwolf]

so i'm supposed to be working on my sterek wip—and i am! i wrote about 1k today—but bc of all you lovely mutual's and folk i follow now also into buddie (main culprits being @inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius and @angela-feelstoomuch) and ofc bc of bi!buck confirmed, i've started ploughing through 911 over the last few weeks like a bloodhound chasing a rabbit through the woods and have consequently, inevitably, started a buddie wip. fml. anyways, it's all your lot's fault so here, have just under 1k of my first buck pov buddie quarantine wip and everyone pls forgive my adhd writing brain lol.

.

Eddie was so fucking drunk. And it wasn't really either of their faults.

Because daytimes? When they weren't on shift? They were easy.

In the daytime there was just so much stuff to do with Christopher. So many games to play and so many cool things Buck was finding he could teach the little guy. And there were things that Christopher was teaching Buck, too, like, did you know that a crocodile can't stick out its tongue? Because Buck didn't, not until Christopher told him. And how cool is that?

The three of them—Buck, Christopher and Eddie—had started a Strip Jack Naked tournament and they now played it every night that he and Eddie were home, just before bath and bedtime stories. Turns out Christopher loved card games, and loved the rude name given to Buck and Maddie's childhood favourite even more, because what ten year old wouldn't? There was obviously zero stripping involved; Buck didn't even know why it was called what it was called, only that it was super fun, and just about easy enough for Christopher to learn but not so easy he'd get bored too fast, y’know? And what was funny was that the little dude hadn't even won a single round yet, and that somehow hadn't seemed to deter the slugger in his efforts one bit. Quite the opposite, actually. He'd warned, “Just you two wait,” and had this look on his face that said he was determined to become a grandmaster and beat Buck at his own game—or, even better, beat his Dad and win the prize of Eddie having to tidy Christopher's room for a week (a suggestion of Buck's that Eddie had not been overjoyed about).

In turn, Buck and Eddie had now lost countless games of Mario Kart to the kid; been repeatedly humiliated at Pictionary (the kiddie version); and each had the least amount of kudos points for Misfits, a game that Eddie apparently used to play with his sisters. It was another drawing-type one, where each player took a body section on their turn—head, torso and arms, or legs and feet—and then folded the paper over to hide the result until everyone was done and Christopher would unfold the paper and they'd all cry with laughter at the results. Misfits didn't even technically have any winners or losers, but hey, try telling Christopher that.

Evenings, though? The few hours left between Christopher's bedtime and Eddie and Buck turning in for the night? They were tougher.

Tough on Buck, at least.

See, he'd had this dream, a few weeks back. A dream about—well.

About Eddie.

In the dream, Buck had been washing the dishes in Eddie and Chris's apartment after Eddie had made another attempt at cooking his abuela's delicious Barbacoa recipe (Buck had tasted the real deal once when Isabel had come to stay and Eddie had invited Buck over to dinner), and Eddie had suddenly crowded into him from behind, crushing the length of his body up against Buck's back and reaching around to circle soft but firm hands around Buck's wet wrists. Startled and confused, Buck had open opened his mouth to say something when Eddie had placed his hot mouth onto the sensitive spot on Buck's neck, just below his right ear and—

Buck had woken abruptly, writhing and twitching and groaning, jizz spilling all over his freshly changed bed sheets.

After that, evenings were a challenge.

They were now made up of all the usual fun and dumb stuff that Buck and Eddie got up to, plus the occasionally deeper topics in their lives that they both seemed to struggle with but tried their best to share with each other, but there was also Don't look too long at Eddie's hands, and Don't look at Eddie's mouth while he speaks, and Don't check out Eddie's ass in those jeans I'd told him he should definitely buy when the shops were still open and the world hadn't yet gone to shit and I wasn't losing my damn mind.

Buck had moved into Eddie and Chris's place when Quarantine hit because it had just made sense, and over the course of the last six months he had somehow managed to fall in lust with his best friend.

So, times when they both had tomorrow off work, and when the confinement got to be a little too much, they would drink. Sometimes a little too much. One of them always stayed relatively sober though, just in case Chris needed something in the night, and tonight, Buck had been allowing Eddie to enjoy himself because the guy hardly ever really let his hair down, and he deserved to.

Eddie got giggly when he drank Tequila, Buck noticed.

They'd already sunk a few beers prior to cracking open the bottle of Cazadores Reposado, and after Buck had stopped at two shots but Eddie had continued, Eddie had become progressively loose and was now starting to giggle like a frickin schoolgirl. Which, embarrassingly, seemed to be doing things to Buck—not that Buck had a thing for school girls, jesus no, it was just that Eddie sounding so soft and vulnerable and happy was something that apparently really did it for Buck.

Fuck his life.

The guy also got very touchy-feely on tequila, too.

They'd migrated from the kitchen table to sitting so close to each other on the sofa that they were permanently touching, as well as all the times Eddie kept nudging his shoulder further into Buck's and squeezing his hand on Buck's knee. Then his thigh.

Seriously, fuck Buck's life.

The way Eddie had gotten so comfortable with touching Buck was becoming a majorly uncomfortable situation for Buck to have to deal with. Not because Buck didn't want the attention, but because he really fucking did.

And that was a problem, for a few reasons.

Reason one was that Buck wasn't gay, and didn't really understand these feelings he was having.

Reason two was, as far as Buck knew, Eddie wasn't gay either.

Reason three (and Buck's biggest fear) was Buck being terrified of losing what he had with Eddie. He loved Eddie, and Christopher, and he was pretty sure they loved him back—and he certainly wasn't about to let his rabid and confusing libido ruin any of that.

Drunk Eddie, though? It seemed Drunk Eddie really had it in for Buck tonight.

.

fingers crossed i can finish it before buck goes insane! xp

[unfixablebabyyy]

oml it took me so so long to finish this bc i basically had to rewrite every other sentence to make it work it was a struggle from start to finish so imma just post it so i can move on and stop rereading it 4000 times 😭

love u all sm ty for all the support i've been getting ❤️ hope u like it- just more of dennis being cringey and insane bc that's how we like him

tw: cnc, manipulation??? idk i mean i feel like this man comes w his own warnings so reader discretion

18+ minors DNI

1:00 AM on a Saturday.

I can feel the smirk on my face slip as I realize that what I just said to you isn't exactly landing like I thought it would. You frown and grab for your keys as my alcohol-soaked brain scrambles to salvage this.

"Hold on," but it's too late, you're already halfway out the door and there's a loud bang and I'm alone in the bar. The panic is paralyzing- I know I should run after you, apologize, perform some romantic gesture to reassure you that I'm just another dumb guy who says stupid shit so you'll forgive me for whatever the hell that was. Instead I stand there like an idiot, ten seconds away from ripping my hair out. It's too quiet and I'm so overwhelmed and there's still beer in my bottle that splashes out as I hurl it at the wall and it explodes into glass shrapnel.

"FUCK!"

If I could crawl out of my skin I would. I really feel like I'm going to have a heart attack but I'm sure as hell not lucky enough to drop dead right now. Why the fuck did I say that? I act so fucking weird around you- anyone else and I would be able to keep it together but you make me so nervous and sick it's pathetic. I clench my fists as my vision tunnels and I think I might be hyperventilating so I try to take a deep breath. And then I try again. And again. And then I snatch a bottle of whisky off of the bar and pour a hefty shot and slam it back. And then I do it again. And again. And my head is swimming. The shot glass hits the wall, too. I groan and run my fingers through my hair and think about how cooked I am. I'm going to fuck this up. Maybe I already have.

After a few minutes and a few more shots, I pull out my phone with shaky hands. It rings twice before sending me to your voicemail. So I call again. /Pick up/. Voicemail. Four rings. Voicemail. One ring. Voicemail. Voicemail. What the fuck? I slam my phone down on the counter and pull out the pack of Reds Charlie thinks he's hidden beneath the bar. I tap the pack hard against my palm, flip open the lid, and yank out a cigarette. My fingers fumble for the lighter he usually keeps next to the pack, and when they finally close around it, I bring it to my face- cigarette already between my lips- and strike the wheel. I take a long, hard, angry pull that puffs out almost a millisecond later. Another hard pull that burns my throat and lungs. Another. I almost cough and I'm so light headed I have to lean on the bar. I take a deep breath, put the cigarette to my lips, slowly breathe in, and close my eyes. I let the smoke roll in my lungs for a moment before releasing it through my nose. And I begin to think as I smoke.

You're probably just being a bitch, but what if your phone is dead? What if you're driving home and your phone just died and you can't find parking close enough to your apartment so you have to park a block away? I check my watch. What if some creep sees you and decides to follow you home? What if he puts his hands all over what's mine? What if he takes you away from me? The world is a dangerous place for a dumb little bunny like you, and the way you look tonight is just asking for it.

I'm out the door, in my car, and down the street so fast I remember to lock the bar three blocks away, and by then I'm already pushing 50mph so I don't turn around. I hope I put out my cigarette. Just a few more blocks and I'm at your place. I fly through stop signs- honestly, I barely see them. It starts to rain and I huff as I flip on the windshield wipers because I know it's going to fuck up my hair. Phil Collins pleads for one more night on the stereo. I'm not sure how I'm going to fix this. I hate myself. I don't know what I'll do if you leave me. I almost imagine you with someone else again, but even the suggestion makes me ill. That can't happen.

My recklessness has earned me five minutes off of the regular time it takes to get to your place, and when I roll up, I see your car right out front. Thank god. I park next to it, blocking the lane, but it's so late, no one is out. I throw on my hazards and jump out onto the sidewalk, where I make it to your door in a few long strides. I ring the buzzer about 50 times, and despite seeing the light on in your window, you don't answer, so I call your name. Nothing. Fine. Be that way. I head back to the Range, slamming the door too hard when I climb in. I roll down all of the windows- despite worrying about the interior in this shitty weather- and turn the volume on the radio all the way up. I have to take a breath and remind myself not to be too obnoxious, you wouldn't like that. So I pick a Donna Lewis CD and skip to "I Love You Always Forever". Perfect. The music echoes awkwardly down the empty street, haunting and ethereal mixed with the patter of the rain. A few dark windows here and there are suddenly illuminated, but no one comes to look. Including you. A dog barks in the unit below you, someone shouts. A window flies open and a disembodied voice yells, "Turn that shit off!" Uh oh, your neighbors aren't too happy, better come down and stop me before I embarrass you.

As the song picks up, more lights come on, and I'm not about to throw rocks at your window like a teenager so I call, "Hey, uh, I don't mean to be an asshole but it's fucking freezing out here, sweetheart."

And that's when I see your beautiful face appear in the window, softly lit by the warmth of your lamp. You look like an angel. The window is thrown open and you lean out.

"Are you fucking crazy? Turn that down," maybe a little. Crazy about you.

"I'm- I fucked up," goddamnit I drank way too much. If I was twenty years younger it might be cute, but I'm not sure this looks so good at my age. I turn the music down and you roll your eyes.

"You're fucked up or you fucked up?" You raise an eyebrow and something's got my tongue.

"Yeah."

"And you drove here like a lunatic. In the rain." Yes! See how much I care?

"I was worried about you."

"Oh, jeez thanks," you're so cute when you're mad, arms crossed over your chest, all huffy and defiant. I really didn't think you had it in you to act like such a brat, but I have to say, I like the idea of a challenge.

"You're welcome," I know that's going to make you angrier, but I chase it with a smile and you look away because it gives you butterflies.

"Call a cab, Dennis," you spit back.

"I'll call you a cab if it'll get you cunts to shut the fuck up!" a neighbor cuts in from somewhere above you, and I can see your skin flush all the way from here.

You sigh, "... I'll buzz you in," you whisper-shout, and then you're gone. God I love the people of this city. I turn the car into an alley and shut off the engine and pray I don't get towed as I jog up the sidewalk. A few seconds later, the old metal gate at your front door buzzes with the loud, low hum of outdated technology and the lock pops out of place. It takes me less than a minute to race up the stairs and down the hall to your door. I don't even have to knock- when you hear me panting down the hall, you open up and I'm met with a warm burst of pleasant smelling air as I stand before you.

"Hey."

"Hey," you look me up and down and I'm beginning to worry that you're actually going to send me home.

"I'm not that drunk," I wish I sounded convincing.

"Uh-huh," you step aside and wave a hand, "Whatever, come in, just take your shoes off."

I do as I'm told and close the door behind me and you walk over to the couch so you don't see me flip the lock, just in case. I can't believe you let me into your apartment. Just like that. I've never been in here with your consent. It smells so overwhelmingly like you when you're here in it with me. It was warm before- all those times I broke in- I mean popped in- to do my research- but your presence in it makes it feel like home. I could die here.

"Ok, give me your keys," you hold out your palm as I come over to sit next to you and I pull them out of my jacket pocket and they're in your little hand. I wish I could kiss you. I know you don't want to kiss me right now, which is fair, but I don't care. I want to wrap my arms around you and pin you to the cushions and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until you realize that you do want it- want me. You just look good enough to eat, so cute and comfortable in your domain. So vulnerable. I wish you would walk around my apartment in your panties. And you're definitely not wearing a bra under that...

"Is that my shirt?" It is. Without a doubt. You flush. The buttons are undone just above your cleavage and the skin there is rosy, too. And your nipples-

"Uh yeah, sorry. You can have it back, I'll wash it." Don't you dare. I scoot a little closer and take the bottom hem between my fingers, toying with the fabric.

"No, you look too cute in it," my heart jumps into my throat when you smile a little. "Look," it takes all of my restraint not to force you down and take your forgiveness, "Things got outta hand and..." I'm not good at this.

"Yeah... what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, I-... I've just had a lot on my mind." I can tell you're not buying it.

"Right," you pull back a little and the shirt slips from my grasp.

I cringe.

"I'm- listen, I barely remember what I said but I whatever it was, I didn't mean it."

"Right," god you're stubborn. I have to do something to disarm you, so I scoot even closer and invade your space and now we're so close our thighs are touching.

"Why don't we start over?" I ask, reaching up to cup your cheek, but you hesitate.

"Depends," you push my chest gently, but I don't budge- I don't even drop my hand- I won't let you do that to us.

"On what?" I'll play, whatever you want princess.

"Are you gonna apologize?" Except that. Not fair.

"I just did," I smile, but you shake your head and my hand falls to your lap.

"No, for real," you try to scoot back, but I snake my arm behind your back to hold you in place. Fuck, I hate this game. I really really hate this game.

"Fine," so you'll feel better, "I'm sorry you misunderstood my words."

You just roll your eyes and I knew I wasn't getting off that easy but I had to try because did I mention how much I fucking hate this game?

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry..." you're really backing me into a corner here. The longer I pause the more impatient you seem to be getting so I just suck it up and the words come out, "that I acted so..." Stop looking at me like that, "Look, I don't usually do this."

"Do what?"

I gesture between us, "This."

You raise an eyebrow, and when I don't immediately elaborate, you move to stand, and I grab your arm a little too quickly and rough and for a tiny fraction of a millisecond I see fear flicker in your eyes so now I have to cave.

"Feelings. I don't- they don't exactly come easily to me. Can we just fucking start over please?" I feel so exposed. You grin.

"Fine," you concede, and I sigh because the relief is overwhelming. It's all the consent I need. It makes you gasp how hard and fast I grab you.

"Oh, thank god," I'm not sure if I say that out loud or not. Sorry, I've simply lost my patience. I use my body to tip you back onto the seat of the couch and climb on top of you, pinning you down like I've been wanting to all night. Your body feels so good in my hands. You giggle a little and try to squirm away because you think this is part of the game, which is for the best, I can't have you knowing how close I am to traumatizing you every time I touch you.

"You gonna let me make it up to you, baby girl?" I don't wait for an answer, too caught up in the feeling of your throat against my mouth. Not that it even matters. Even if you said no, it wouldn't stop me from duct taping you to this couch. I've been dying to use that tight cunt all night- in fact, this is the longest I've gone with anyone without sealing the deal- and you've given me all the consent I need to not completely ruin your faith in me. I have to admit, though, it's getting harder and harder to care. All this foreplay- all hands and mouths and light touches over our clothes for weeks has driven me to the edge and if I don't fuck you soon I might commit a felony.

You moan a little when I slip my hand up your shirt (my shirt) and grope your bare breasts, and when I tug on one of your nipples, you yelp and try to wiggle away, but I've got you. I slide my knee between your thighs and you grind against me like a good girl, panties already wet. You'll let me do anything to you- even when I make you cry, you still let me violate you. I don't know if that makes you stupid or a whore or the best thing that has ever happened to me.

You drape your arms around me and your fingers curl around the back of my shirt. The feeling of your nails raking against my skin as you pull my shirt off only adds to my desperation, and when I rip off your panties and shove two fingers into your little hole, you cry out from the pain, so I slap my hand over your mouth and for a moment I feel like I've gone too far, but then your eyelids flutter. I take a breath, try to steady myself, but you feel so good wrapped about my fingers. I want to be inside of you- all of you. I want to taste your breath and hear your thoughts and feel your heartbeat with mine.

I should be gentle- I did just make you mad enough to ghost me- but I can't help myself. I just want to tie you up and cum to the smell of your fear as I bruise your cervix. You whimper as I curl my fingers against your walls and drag them out of you. When I slide them back in slowly, you're practically gushing. I take my other hand off of your mouth and you let out a soft breath that makes me shove my thumb between your lips, hooking it and holding you by the cheek.

"I oughtta slap this pretty face raw for ignoring my calls," I coo and you clench around my fingers and I can't help but smirk a little because you're just so pathetic it's adorable. I lean down close, releasing your cheek to press the pad of my thumb against your tongue, "Whadda ya think, princess?" I purr nice and low, and you close your eyes and moan as you suck on my thumb which makes a cute little pop as it's pulled from your mouth, followed sharply by the crack of my hand against your face. Your eyes go wide- and I'll admit, I didn't mean to hit you so hard- but your cunt pulses as my fingers continue to move in and out of you.

Your cheek is bright red, and when I hit you again, your eyes begin to water and you let out a sob. It feels so good to be in control again. Your hips buck into the palm of my hand, forcing my fingers deeper and you sob again. Your chest is rising and falling like a trapped animal's, and I imagine the heart pumping inside is just as hot and soft and slippery as this pussy but I have to stop thinking like that so I lean down and kiss you hard. You shove your tongue into my mouth which was a mistake because I instinctively bite down hard enough to taste the sweet, metallic tang of your blood, but you don't pull away, you just moan into my mouth. I think I moan into yours, too, but I'm too busy coming down from the head rush of you bleeding against my teeth. It scares me how much I like hurting you. Something deep inside of me stirs. I try to ignore it.

Your fingers are tugging down on the waistband of my jeans and when I realize what you're doing, I sit up and use my free hand to finish taking them off, along with my boxers. The whole time, you're watching the fingers I have still pushed inside of you- three now- your lip between your teeth.

"You like that?" it takes your foggy little brain a moment to hear my words, and when it does, all you can do is look up at me and nod. You gasp as I pull my fingers out of you, but I have your attention again the moment I say, "Then taste."

I bring my hand up to your face and you open wide like a good little girl, taking my cunt-drenched fingers into your mouth. Your eyelashes flutter as you taste yourself. I push my fingers in further and further and further until your wiggling uncomfortably against the cushions, gagging on me. I take the opportunity to line myself up against your hole, and when you feel the head of my cock slowly begin to plug it, your eyes roll back and you moan against my fingers.

"Good girl," I whisper and grunt as I bottom out, my tip brushing your cervix. You feel so good wrapped around me it takes my breath away. You're so warm and soft and so so tight since I didn't give you any time to adjust. I take my fingers from your mouth and you suck in the sweet air I'd been depriving you of.

But your reprieve is short lived and the first few hard thrusts of my hips against yours have you gasping, face twisted in pain as I brutally fuck you. Your back arches up from the cushions, and I wrap my arm around your waist for more leverage as I pound into you. Your fingernails undoubtedly leave deep red lines on my skin as they rake across my back and down my arms and I shiver so hard I lose my pace. You wrap your legs around my waist and just as I'm bringing my hips back to meet yours, you grind into me and it makes my arms weak and I groan into your neck. You smell like your soap and alcohol and perfume and me. You haven't washed this shirt since you wore it home.

I slam my hips into you and you let out the sweetest sound- like a fawn caught in the jaws of a wolf. You're driving me crazy with how quickly you went from a raging cunt to this pitiful, wet little mess, all because I refused to let you behave like a brat. Because you're mine. Allowing me into your space, wearing my shirt, being so ready and willing to take me after I tore you apart. You pretend to be independent but the fact is you just want to be owned.

"I swear to god if you ever walk away from me again, I'll put a fucking leash on you," I hiss into your ear and you whine, "Say, 'Yes Daddy.'"

"Yes Daddy," there isn't even a hint of hesitation. You're so desperate to please me. You whimper as I graze my teeth along your neck and it's so pathetic I almost cum inside of you- I would if I didn't think it would get me into trouble. I'm not wearing a condom. I rut into you and I'm beginning to slip and I just can't get deep enough inside of you. It's throwing me into a sort of frenzy and I can't stop, even when you scrunch up that pretty little face and your breath hitches and you try to readjust. I'm so much stronger than you, and it's just so easy to pin you down and carve into you.

"Shhh, I know baby, I need it," the words tumble from my lips- fast and breathy- out of my control as my brain begins to melt and I feel my orgasm building in my base, "My sweet girl. I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

A tear squeezes out of your clenched eyes and rolls down your face and I can't stop myself from licking it off of your temple just to taste what's inside of you again. Your eyelids flutter and I can see your eyes rolled back in that pretty skull. I wish I could see your brain- know what you're thinking- live inside of you- control you.

You inhale sharply as your body tenses up and I swear I can feel your walls clench around me and suddenly you're so much wetter and I remember the taste of your blood in my mouth and- thank god- I pull out and cum against your asshole and you're sucking in air and your cheeks are so pink and I can barely breathe and when you open your eyes and look at me I feel dizzy because you're not scared or angry or hurt that it was the first time we had sex and I lost control... You're smiling at me.

You hum and tilt your head back as I stand from the couch, reach for my boxers that landed on the coffee table, and pull them on. You drape a leg over the side of the couch and I can't take my eyes off of the mess I've made between your thighs and I'm overcome by the urge to push it all inside of you- to bury my cum-covered fingers so deep into you that I knock you up anyway and then you can't leave me. Ever. A judge would make sure of that.

Instead, I make my way to your bathroom for a clean towel that I make warm with water from the faucet. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I wring out the towel and I hate the way I can see every single pore in the fluorescent light. I make a note to come back at some point when you're away to change the bulb.

[honeymouthedtales]

i don't think i've seen other people asking about this fic here but i wanted to say i've been thinking about "call it true, call it magic" (hc witch au) and i remembered that i love that story sososososo much could you perhaps share some lore/tmi about this story? 🥺

so technically that's one of my favorite aus and i just love loved the idea, but then i had kind of a bad experience with a beta reader telling me the part about dh trading secrets was dumb and it's been so hard to come back to it later bc i'm super sensitive and i liked the idea and now it gives me anxiety ;;

but in my original plan mk and dh don't get together for a long time, they start as friends with dh helping by draining the bad luck out of mk with his own presence (but they're not roommates). and i have a snippet of a later chapter where mk has been introduced to dh's gang and he's like part of that group of friends at that point and he wakes up one day after they went drinking and someone (rj) has been turned into a frog for losing a drinking game and mk crashed in dh's tinbox room because he was too drunk to go home and when he wakes up dh is drooling on the pillow wih the cat sleeping curled around his head and mk thinks omg i love him. and that becomes a very big thing because you know they still do the secrets thing and that's a secret mk is not willing to let go unless dh offers something very juicy in exchange.

there's been some details of this fic that have bled into other fics, for example dh's bad relationship with his sister worked as an inspiration for him and chwn in iotol.

i also really loved the secondary ships bc it was noren with renjun being a vampire webtoon author and jeno a werewolf whose sister is addicted to that webtoon and so jeno knows him by fame but doesn't know it's him when they start dating. there was also a jaemin ship that had a smut but we're not gonna talk about it because the other side of the ship is now not... someone i'm comfortable talking anymore, and idk if i should just trash the entire thing or trying changing it to another ship idk. also johnten with herbalist ten and jhny who has a tattoo parlor but he only does magical tattoos like runes or stuff like that to help protect wizards and warlocks, so the magical version or the florist tattoo artist thing.

[sylvaridreams]

snipping messages re: Alba at the end of EoD and leading into What Lies Beneath/What Lies Within/burning low (burning out & tiger tiger) and then after the end of that arc - I don't know if I'll ever get a chance/take the time to write any of this out for real so It's Goin Here. recommend reading at the link above First if you intend to at all bc obviously this is spoilers for it. here we gooooo:

at the very end of EoD he's very very fragile and vulnerable. I mean. He had Aurene in his brain and affecting him physically during that battle. Then she withdrew and it RATTLED HIM hard, like he was not coping well with that….. gaping hole where an elder dragon has been in his mind fully. he left feeling empty and just. Torn open exposed and VERY VERY LONELY And needed something to fill it in and not make him be all on his own in this vast open dark spot in his mind. I think he figured this out that he hated being alone in his head and. Kind of looked at his tiger. No, that's not possible… I don't know how to even do that…. (he'd never HAD soulbeast training. He was aware of their abilities, but….) looks at his tiger again and it lays its head on his shoulder. Well maybe I can just…. :grab2:

And ten minutes later his tiger is clawing its way back out and shits broken and Alba is bleeding and the tiger is snarling and growling and they're Both scared. What did he do, how did he do it so wrong. Neither of them LIKED that. His head aches. I think he tried it repeatedly. Kind of desperately, trying to fuse with a few things, different animals. Some took it better than others. by the time he tries the tiger again he has Ideas of how to work this power and handle it. And he feels like he needs it to Be the tiger, his one consistent pet since maguuma… And four hours later he's regaining conscious control of his body in the middle of Echovald. No idea how he got here. Who he encountered on the way. Blood on his face. Not his own. And this horrible taste of copper in his mouth. And he feels gross and sore and he has a migraine so bad he's seeing like auras around the few people he passes, but… he feels better too. Powerful. With this animal inside his head.

But he has to be careful. Show restraint, he learns how bad it hurts if he doesn't let the tiger out, so it's just. A couple hours here and there, of this RUSH of control and power that fills his mind. All these awesome super addictive happy chemicals in his brain! Then tiger gets hurt outside of his mind, bad, and he panics and just. Grabs and doesn't let go. You'll not die on MY watch. Which means he can't let the tiger out ever. This has to be a forever, permanent solution, because if he lets the animal go it dies. So they share control. The tiger hurts but it can live through his body. Alba hurts but he can survive, he can cope with this beast in his brain. And he's never certain what day it is, how long he's been out here. he thinks about a week. Maybe longer. And he should probably go home soon…

And then he gets a letter from Rama inviting everyone to sushi

Comes to the "party" and Rama and Gorrik are kind of like wow he lives! O_O same kind of tone as "well look who came out of his cave!" Rama takes him aside as they're saying goodbyes and is like "hey uh. Dude. What the fuck." :teensie: "what's wrong Rama" "Don't play dumb, where the hell have you been? You know how many letters and calls I've had asking me to track you down since you left? You can't just vanish for half a year and then show up looking like this and act like nothing happened, people were worried about you, man." Alba "🧍���♂️ ah."

(Imagine 6 months of assuming the Commander is dead or being a cunt in his "I'm melting down and I want it to be everyone else's problem" kind of way and then the comms suddenly connects and Gorrik is like I just had dinner with Rama. And the Commander. And everyone at once is like HE'S ALIVE? and Gorrik is like yes but frankly he looks bad. 6 months and he's been aware and conscious for maybe 10 days of it. Tiger has been running wild. He's covered in cuts and bruises and sprains and his leggings all torn and his shoulder leaves are just wilting and lifeless. His foliage is the same. He just looks unwell. And he's become essentially a local Echovaldian cryptid. Weird guy who will attack monsters and gangsters on site)

(discord message snippets end here)

and then obviously things progress, everyone goes to the MINE to explore the mystery and figure it out and Alba is. weird and exhausted and twitchy and off putting the whole time. events of the fic above take place, and afterwards Canach takes Alba back with him to the Isle of Reflection, where he has kept a house since the guild captured it and Meisi FOOLISHLY offered "if anyone wants to lay claim on a house here," and FAILED TO CLARIFY that he didn't mean "and Canach too." (Joke. they hate one another but it's a mutual joke.)

And it's a slow... not so steady... one step foward, 3-10 steps back at times, attempt to rehabilitate Alba. Because the tiger is by then OUT of his brain and gone somewhere safe to recover. he lets it go (not out of want, not out of lack of trying, but because they force him.) and at times he's completely lucid, able to hold conversation. exhausted, but himself. he's.... okay.

and then at times it's like the switch flips, and some kind of beast is back in his brain. Canach doesn't say a thing about it for a while, cleans up whatever broken filthy mess he's created, repairs the paper doors, the walls, bandages him up. whatever it takes for Alba to get back to his baseline. maybe it just takes time. maybe he HAS to knock expensive antiques off of tables to get back to normal.

and then one night he wakes up and Alba's not in bed. and there are noises in the kitchen, snarling, growling. his instinct is not fear (he'll be fine, he can defend himself, Auru can defend himself too) but worry for Alba, that he might be doing something that'll hurt him-- so he tells Auruim to stay in bed, he'll be right back, grabs his sword and makes for the kitchen. finds Alba naked on all fours, tearing into the last of four raw chicken breasts that were in the jade fridge, eyes wild and not there. not Alba at all. and he kind of just stands there in shock, watching him choke down the meat, until Auruim tries to sleepily approach, asking what's going on, and he has to act. go back to bed, don't worry, he's just sick. go to bed. gets his comms device and stares at it for a long moment, listening to Alba snarl and lick whatever is left off the plates and finally calls someone. "Meisi. I need your help." "....Do you know what time it is?" "it's Alba. he's. not well."

and shit has been SO rocky between Alba and Meisi since... basically since Meisi came back from the Mists... Their relationship never recovered, never got back to the baseline where it was before Meisi died. They were never best friends or brothers again.

5 paragraph side note on what I mean by this:

[(a huge part of this being Alba sustains a major head injury at the end of LWS3 and suffers amnesia for a while. doesn't REMEMBER anyone, doesn't know who Meisi is, so when he shows up a week later Alba's reaction isn't to cry and hold onto him and let it all out and REUNITE, it's to say "hello! good to see you again." he fully did not know who this asura was or why he'd been gone or why it mattered. Canach yanked Meisi aside and tried to explain, "hey here's the situation with the commander, head injury and amnesia, it's him not you DON'T take it personally. he's trying." and it was like this for every person, reintroducing him to allies multiple times a day sometimes until his brain started to recover, by which point (as memories started to click back into place) he assumed (had to, he didn't remember that time period where he'd been injured) that he had already DEALT with all that stuff. Meisi's back! well I'm certain we fully reunited and I invited him to the guild and he joined. :) YAY!)

but FRANKLY, Alba also recoiled from people for a long while. he has some longstanding "ok he's always kind of dodged that kind of closeness" issues (see: hiding injuries, not allowing any friends close enough to know he's disabled and how badly it's fucking up how he lives) but at the end of LWS4 he hid. he vanished and stopped answering letters, turned his comms fully off for months, (and only let it be on after a while because Taimi was able to remote in and forcibly bring it back online to talk to him, but he'd hang up if someone called and asked something he didn't want them to) and he went and found a spot to pitch a tent in the middle of nowhere and HIDE. he had a lot of sorrow and pain to sort through and told himself he could work it all out, out here, and then he kind of didn't do any of that. he avoided the work. typical. but where else would I go, he kept asking himself. nowhere felt like home, and he couldn't go back to the Grove. (it's fair to say that by the end of LWS4, he is soundless and would absolutely hate being called that. how repulsive, how could you say that about him, etc.) No one was able to locate him until 6 months after the end of LWS4 when Aeris showed up at his camp and told him (lying) "you're not that hard to track" as if she hadn't been actively hunting for him for over half that time. at that point people were WORRIED but also trying to respect that Alba seemed to want distance. he wanted loneliness. he did not want to be approached or found, so we left him out there.

and then through Icebrood Saga, and afterwards, everything was so rocky. most of the guild was like uh.... this could be the end of us, huh.... Meisi wasn't interested in rebuilding anything with Alba and at best, cold shouldered him throughout that arc. Braham broke Alba's spine at Dragonstorm and wrenched his bad leg out of socket, and frankly he was lucky to survive the battle, let alone walk again after back surgery. there wasn't a lot of in-group talking afterwards. everyone drifted. there was just way too much to try to bridge all at once. it was very much... "alright, i'll have my comms, call or write me if another dragon wakes up..." from every side. the guild.... took a break.

they're only both in Cantha at the same time because Alba crashed with the airship, and Meisi is there with Kasmeer for diplomatic reasons. Meisi is not Dragon's Watch and does not represent the guild. he can speak on behalf of them as an allied faction (Vigil) when Alba fails to convince Empress Ihn that he's capable (he's just woken up from another coma (how many more of THOSE do you have in you?) after crashing an airship into a closed country and being kept on life support for (weeks?) and then Rama made him go workout!!!!!! CRUEL!!!!! and frankly he is in a lot of pain!) but he isn't DW. he has never considered himself DW because Alba didn't invite him!

and I think we've determined that Alba apologizes at some point and tries to bridge this gap, like. I'm sorry that we never discussed this, the period of time when you came back from the Mists is so blank for me that I don't remember you returning, and I always thought that we HAD to have had all these conversations. I always assumed I'd invited you and you'd accepted, but people have told me that's not the case and I'm sorry. I wanted you in Dragon's Watch, I STILL want you in Dragon's Watch. You're my brother and I hate this feeling that we're not really allies to one another. I'm sorry. The offer stands, no matter how much time passes. (and then Meisi tries to say something, to take the offer or at least reply, and the communicator goes off like GUYS EMERGENCY HELP NOW RUN HURRY AAAAAAA and he loses the chance. and they never discuss it again! there's just no easy time to bring it up. eventually it felt weird to be like back to this convo! and then EoD wrapped up and that may have been a good time, but Alba DISAPPEARED.)]

but Meisi is Trying to give Alba a chance. Again. he needs help to recover so that he can even HAVE that chance, so he goes over in time to see Alba choke it all back up like a sick cat and faint, and is like ah. well. awesome. I see he's doing well. that's wonderful.

it basically. takes time. to get Alba back to Alba. because frankly he was backseat to a wild beast for half a year, and he didn't handle it well (although how well would anyone handle it, really.) there's got to be a lot of positive reinforcement... and negative. like hey! no treats unless you stop biting through the corner of the wall. Alba! no trea--I'm getting the squirt bottle. bad, bad Alba. and some days Canach has to let Meisi know, "he's outside and he thinks the bamboo grove is "his territory" again, so be careful if you head that way." and Meisi is like "no, I'm going to get the hose. I'll spray him." and Canach is like "you're going to make me deal with that. ugh. I'll get the bad towels out I guess." Alba is the YAMEROOOOOOOO wikihow coyote picture for a while until he starts relearning personhood.

and eventually he can get there again but I think there's... still some lingering issues? that Canach and Meisi are aware that he has. abnormal behavior. And Canach doesn't want him around anything he can fuse with, pets, mounts, any animal he can potentially take into his mind to go beastmode again. and the Isle is Meisi's skyscale reserve, so frankly that's not like... possible. there'll be animals. it's a matter of monitoring Alba to ensure he doesn't try to fill that slowly healing tear in his mind again. he knows how to do it and they can't force him to forget it, they can't make him unlearn that ability, but the hope is that if we keep an eye on him for long enough and keep him isolated from his pets, his mounts, he'll forget it naturally, and the empty spot in his mind will heal and he eventually won't even NEED to do it.

but frankly the SotO folks don't necessarily know allllll of that, or rather don't really care a lot about whatever progress Canach and Meisi had made on Alba's mental state by the time SotO started and he got "unwillingly" scooped up into another adventure. so they're likely handing him pets and mounts immediately like here use these in battle or to get around we don't caaaare.

anyway that's my long winding essay about alba before and after burning low. :) my little freak of a man is out here rotating wild cats in his mind and unlocking unlimited power forever because he misses his dragon baby so so so so so so so soooooooooooo muuuuuch!

Burning Low (on ao3)

hiiiii I'm finally posting a bunch of my finished stuff :) here's my "get worse" remix of What Lies Within in which Alba..........gets worse.

[lady-of-the-spirit]

I am this close to just naming the second protagonist in Ryoko's story "Ten" because I cannot think of a name for them and can't think of a name that would suit them better AND for the hilarity of the ageless immortal former Queen of the Heavens warrior death god Ryoko to be like "this is my traveling companion, Ten." And point to the tall scrawny person beside her who just waves and smiles and is happy to be here.

("I'm her best friend," Ten says.

"You are my traveling companion," Ryoko says stubbornly, glaring at them. "At best you are a colleague."

"I'm her best friend," Ten grins and whispers to the person they're speaking to. "She'll admit it one of these days. Yesterday she actually gave me a glass of water instead of telling me to get it myself or getting a glass of ice.")